Become a SNARKOTIC fan on 
bizhooligan
calvinstowell
deadbeatdavid
christinaparrella
kanev
dee
ashlified
janedaniels
anijen21
accordingtoalannaFiled under: Celebrity News, Music, Popculture | Tags: concert review, fearless tour, madison square garden, taylor swit
We’ve all held grudges longer than necessary. I’ve fallen victim to that more times than I can possibly imagine. I’ve forgiven, but not forgotten; I’ve gotten mad and then even; I’ve killed them with kindness; I’ve even reverted to my belief of karma as my only hope for revenge. Eventually though, I get over it and move on. Taylor Swift, on the other hand, doesn’t. Instead, she builds an entire persona, or brand, if you will, around her grudges. She calls it ‘fearless,’ but I just call it bitter (with a hint of overkill).
Taylor Swift performed at Madison Square Garden on August 27, 2009 to a sold out crowd of 20,000. The concert was part of her ‘Fearless’ tour, which has been one of the most sought-after tours for females this summer — sort of like what Lillith Fair was in the 90s, except with more shaven armpits and cowboy boots with sparkly skirts.
Despite my lack of appreciation for Taylor Swift and her music, I attended her concert in support of my friend who is a huge fan (but I won’t judge her, since I like some really questionable things myself). And believe it or not, I found myself knowing more Swift songs than I’d like to admit (when I was actually able tell them apart).
Taylor Swift definitely knows how to get girls riled up and cheer for the underdog, which in this case, are themselves. With a full back-up band and two back-up singers to boot, she sang her broken heart out for an hour and a half while reminding everyone every chance she could that boys do indeed suck.
In between each song, Taylor took a long deep breath – gazing out into the sea of estrogen – and told one of four poignant tales: the one where she was ignored by her High School crush, the one where she was cheated on by her boyfriend, the one where she burned his pictures (which I highly doubt she actually did; she probably just untagged him on Facebook), the one where he will get what he deserves, or – my favorite — the one where she still believes in fairy tales, but realizes that “prince charming isn’t as easy to find as [she] thought… and in real life, the bad guy is actually really, really cute.” (Oh, I see… Thanks for the heads up, girl.)
Ya know, it’s pretty ironic (and hard to believe) that she has been screwed over by so many guys in the past, considering she is only 19-years-old, takes pride in being wholesome and is a firm believer of fairy tales. But, at least all of this supposed heartbreak inspires her to write mediocre songs in hopes of empowering former sluts, current prudes and those who are still resentful about the one that got away… And because of Taylor Swift’s redundant rants and words of wisdom (I get it, it’s her gimmick), they now know better than to get involved with bad boys. (Or at least nice guys who happen to buy you a toaster for your birthday, as shown in “Crimes of Passion,” a sketch video that played during a set change depicting Taylor’s many male muses. It was an obvious joke, but I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.)
Swift’s stage presence was very endearing and definitely better than I predicted, but it was still quite theatrical and contrived (not like I expected any different from such a huge production). She strutted her stuff, booty popped, head-banged, fluffed her hair, batted her eyes and paused in “awe” of the crowd at the most precise times during the show. “I will remember this night for as long as I live. I will never, ever, forget what you just did for me,” she said in sheer amazement as the crowd went bananas for almost two minutes (apparently 30 seconds longer than at most of her shows – wow, weren’t we the lucky ones). I have to say though, those two minutes were awesome to witness, even if they weren’t entirely authentic – I love attending concerts at Madison Square Garden for that very reason; seeing musicians get overwhelmed with emotion standing in such a historic stadium gives even me chills.
There were two outstanding moments of the show that I would go as far as to say were my favorites of the night. One was when Taylor went into the audience (all the way up to the second mezzanine, which at MSG, is pretty high) and performed a couple of songs from that section and then moved her way down to the floor (with four bodyguards surrounding her, prepared to tackle any single white female that got in their way). It made being in such a huge arena intimate and sincere (and also hooked the people in the nosebleeds up with a pretty good view).
My second favorite moment was at the very end of ‘Should’ve Said No’ when it began to “rain” on stage with Taylor underneath it — getting soaked and wet — as the water spelled out words like “No.” (see this video for the visual.) Funny, The Jonas Brothers also make it “rain” on stage at their concerts, except with hearts engraved in the water. I hope Taylor gets the memo and bitches about it at her next show. (Oh, those heartless bad boys!)
A memorable mention: The many costume changes — The show kicked off with Taylor and her crew dressed as a High School marching band and chearleaders ala the ‘You Belong With Me’ music video and later went back in time to the Rennessaince period ala ‘Love Story.’ Even on top of the extravagant costumes, Taylor’s personal wardrobe changed a good five or six times during the duration of the concert. I felt like I was watching Sarah Jessica Parker host MTVs Movie Awards circa 2000 all over again. (Don’t get the reference? My apologies, I’ll try to be more dated next time.)
My least favorite part of the show (besides the constant reminder from Taylor Swift that she will write a song about you if you so much as break up with her in a 27 second phone call, or just not like her back) was this bizarre pseudo-drum duel between her and the violinist during the encore. The drums were designed to look like stacked garbage cans, but were completely irrelevant to not only the song they were leading up to (‘Should’ve Said No’), but the entire theme of the show. To make matters worse, they weren’t even actually drumming! They each would bang once on the drums then dramatically fall to the floor or sway their heads in slow motion while creepy background music played. (Like oh-my-god, maybe the violinist was playing the chick that TayTay’s ex cheated on her with and the garbage drums were representing like—wait, no, you lost me at garbage drums.) The light scheme during this performance was blue accompanied by clouds on the screen, signifying only what I can assume is… I have absolutely no fucking idea! If they were trying to gain street-cred with this segment, they failed. Not even Oscar the Grouch would be amused. It left me absolutely perplexed, but perhaps someone can enlighten me on its significance… anyone… anyone? Bueller?
I do want to say that I was thoroughly entertained by the entire spectacle and liked the experience of seeing the number one selling artist of 2009 live in concert. My friend — who I went to the show with — said to me afterwards, “Where was Taylor Swift when I was growing up?” And that’s when it hit me; Swift is representing bubble-gum tween angst for the Z-generation… I can only just hope these girls graduate to Fiona Apple when their broken hearts and unhappily ever after fairy tales are all grown up. But for now, I guess they’ll just have to idolize a run-of-the-mill songstress whose entire shtick is to hold miniscule grudges for the sake of selling out places like Madison Square Garden.
I really don’t know what’s funnier: Josephine, an angry grandma who keeps yelling obscenities while trying to find her bottle of whiskey from last night, her grandson who is behind the camera instigating like the sassy son-of-a-b*tch that he is (or a “f*ckin’ sissy bastard,” as Grandma Josephine calls him before doing a little jig to further emphasize that her grandson is a sissy and perhaps dances like a girl), the fact that I had the time to notice the empty shelves and large Fed-Ex box in the living room and wonder why said shelves were empty and what was in that box (my guess is a sweet TV set that Grandma Josephine probably destroyed during another one of her tantrums), or an appearance from Grams Jo’ at the end of the video shamelessly asking people to subscribe to her YouTube page? (I’m pretty sure her sassy girly-dancing grandson threatened to hide another bottle of whiskey if she didn’t do it.)
And while I was laughing at this video and feeling awful all at once (terrible clusterf*ck of emotions right there), I wondered just how long it would take for an intervention to kick in; there are just so many starter jackets that Jo can keep throwing at her grandson to shut him up and hand over the bottle.
Call me selfish, but I would love this woman to grace A&E’s Intervention. How absolutely epic would that episode be (alright, maybe not epic, but awesome – yes)? They don’t even need to hire a camera crew! They can just ask Sassy McSasserson to film it.
Man, I’m by no means supporting alcoholism, but if it gives me good TV, I’m all about it!
(Just kidding guys, I only support those with addictions to computer dust removers.)
Filed under: Advice, Arts & Culture, Celebrity News, Lifestyle, Popculture, Style | Tags: bette midler, beyonce, cher, christina aguilera, cyndi lauper, gay icon, gays, joan crawford, kathy griffin, madonna, rosie o'donnell, sasha fierce
If there is any group of people who are kicking 2009 off on a good note, it’s the celebrities that gays go absolutely bat sh*t crazy over. Example: Lady Gaga went from being a drag queen-looking chick with allergies to pants to a legitimate #1 artist, Liza Minelli went from being married to an ogre and having a semi-anti-climactic comeback on Arrested Development to being a Broadway star all over again, Beyoncé went from being herself as Beyoncé to being herself as Sasha Fierce (quite possibly the most unnecessary alter-ego since Chris Gaines, but at least this b*tch provided us with the fiercest viral phenomenon yet) and Oprah is back on the weight loss bandwagon and there ain’t no stoppin’ her! It might be too soon to say, but gosh darn it I’ll say it anyway: Gay Icons could quite possibly be having the best kickoff to a New Year ever!!!
But what does it take to actually be embraced by a community that is not only fabulous, but also picky and willing to turn their backs on you if you just so much as peep a negative word about Britney’s comeback? I decided to put on my faux fur parka and silky weave and hit the streets of the Internet to figure out exactly what it takes to become a Gay Icon, so you can be on your way to becoming this:
1) Fashion Don’ts Are Your Best Friend: Seriously, if there’s a warrant out for your arrest by the fashion police, then keep on hiding from the po-po, because the gays need you in their lives. Remember, being a hot mess is still a compliment.
2) Hard Knock Life: It seems as though many Gay Icons were outcasts as children (see: Oprah, Christina Aguilera, and Victoria Beckham). If you were once an ugly duckling or jumped by your entire 4th grade class, then wipe those tears away because honey, you’re almost there!
3) Potty Mouth Trained: Bette Midler, Cyndi Lauper, Cher, Joan Crawford, Kathy Griffin, Rosie O’Donnell and Madonna are all broads who have put many Sailors out of business with their impressive swearing skills. Practice using f*ck, sh*t and motherf*cker in the same sentence and you’ll be on your way.
4) Drink Up: The classiest Gay Icons were also closeted drunks. Go raid your grandma’s liquor cabinet for that old sh*t; you’ll instantly feel like an incarnation of Judy Garland (R.I.P. baby girl)
5) Here Comes the Bride… Again: Either they’ve been married more than once or they’ve been in long-term relationships that are all shades of what-the-f*ck (if Chris Hansen existed in the 80s, he would’ve been telling Celine Dion’s manager-turned-husband to “have a seat”). If you prefer to be an independent woman, go get yourself a Stedman.
6) Don’t Give a Rats Ass: After struggling with a stint of hardships, the key attitude to have is one that doesn’t give a f*ck. If you have to shave your head and release an album whilst in rehab or talk smack on other celebrities whilst moving up from the D-list, just do it.
7) Get What You Want: Not all gay icons have to automatically be divas, but many are (J.Lo, I’m looking at you, homegirl). If you need that dressing room to be covered in chocolate, dandelions or horse urine, you demand that crap until some poor helpless underpaid shmuck gets it for you!
8) That’s Fat, Yo!: You have to go through some chubby/overweight/child-bearing hips stage at some point in your career. So grab the Cheetos now and worry about being sponsored by Jenny Craig later.
9) Fierce is Not a Word, it’s a Lifestyle: If you call yourself fierce, then you’re everything but. Wait until others coin you “fierce” before you start throwing that word around like you’re a Tyra Banks with turrets.
10) Talent or Bust: You MUST be talented in your field of work to actually even be given the time of day by the gay community. You can have as many rehab stints, divorces, tacky outfits and weight issues, but if you’re not a true performer, you’re ass is dunzo.
Do you hear that? I’m pretty sure it’s the sound of Kathy Griffin’s gays knocking on your door.
Filed under: Books, Movies | Tags: book, catherine hardwicke, kristen stewart, movie, movie review, robert pattinson, stephanie meyer, twilight
DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE BEEN LIVING UNDER A ROCK!
November 22, 2008 @ 12:34PM
I was introduced to Twilight earlier this year when the movie began filming and the psychotic Twilight moms began stalking the set on a daily basis with their infants and toddlers fully in tow. I had absolutely no idea what the book series was about, nor did I really care; I was just amused by the fan base the film was attracting: Housewives and Fat chicks. And not just ANY housewives and fat chicks, but FUCKING CRAZY housewives and fat chicks! The kind of crazies that read fantasy novels and write slash fiction on LiveJournal. The kind that live vicariously through fictional characters that embody perfection and everything that their husbands (or lack thereof) do not possess. The kind that devour anything with a fluffy soft-core premise that provokes absolutely no thought or profundity, because THAT is the kind of shit that gives them a small inkling of hope for simplicity, happiness, weight-loss and a cure for that pesky drinking problem that began when little Jimmy was born… And that hope lied in Twilight (which I was later informed was like a 9th grade level Anne Rice novel).
Slowly but surely, the book series began to spread like wildfire (even beyond the original demographic), and I found myself with a bunch of friends (neither fat, moms or crazy) who had jumped on the bandwagon as well. These said friends even gave me the first two books in hopes of converting me into one of them. I was hesitant at first, but decided to cave in and give this human/vampire love story a chance. I mean, after all, something with this much craze must be brilliant, right?
Well, after reading book 1, it not only reconfirmed that there will always be trash that will be praised no matter how unsubstantial it is, but I realized that I wasn’t like the Twilight fatties at all; I actually preferred to eat fluff rather than read it! I kept turning each page waiting to feast on some depth, but by the time I forcefully turned to the last page, I found myself still hungry, but reluctant for seconds.
I was disappointed in myself for not loving this book and knew that in result, my friends would probably disown me. But luckily, there was still a chance – the movie had a lot of buzz, which gave me some anticipation and a little bit of extra time to savor the memory of what it’s like to actually have friends. Despite the shitty trailers and questionable casting, I was PUMPED! I mean, after all, something with this much craze must be brilliant, right? RIGHT?!
Wrong. Oh, so, so, so very wrong…
November 22, 2008 @ 4:56PM
It is actually taking me all day to write this damn Twilight movie review. I originally got distracted by Newsies, which was playing on Showtime (I forgot just how good Christian Bale was in this movie), but then when I mustered enough energy to turn the TV off to begin my writing, I didn’t even know where to start. Usually when I am heated about something, the words spill out in one sitting, but this time I was experiencing something beyond writer’s block… This time, it was second-hand embarrassment.
I began to pity everyone involved with the production of the movie, including the lovely people who catered on the set and the poor PA’s who took the gig thinking this would be their ticket to Hollywood. I especially began feeling awful for the tens upon thousands of fans who gathered in the freezing cold Thursday night – dressed to the nines with their “Team Edward Cullen” get-up – in order to get prime seating at the midnight showing, because they had absolutely no idea that their beloved Twilight was turned into a glorified after school special.
Hold that thought; I have to go out for dinner. BBL.
November 22, 2008 @ 10:05PM
While sitting at Applebee’s and munching on my mozzarella sticks (they were quite delish, thanks for asking), the thought of writing this review kept lingering in the back of my mind and I knew I just had to get it over with in one sitting when I got home… So without any further distractions, here it is:
The Acting
Kristen Stewart looked like she was about to either fall asleep in every scene or have an asthma attack with the heavy breathing she kept doing. Her portrayal of Bella lacked the awkwardness and sense of humor that I actually kind of liked about her in the book, and the delivery of the very few jokes she did have was monotone, to say the least. It was like watching a poor imitation of MTV’s Daria.
Robert Pattinson hurried through many lines (like the cafeteria scene by the salad bar) and delivered the rest like a stoned James Dean. The charming Edward Cullen from the book was not present at all in the movie. The only thing Pattinson delivered with was his devilishly cute grin… oh, and his overall hotness. I guess all of the females on the set were too busy swooning to pay attention to how stiff his performance was (that’s what she said). In other words, he did not dazzle me as much as I thought he would.
The acting was wooden and unemotional. I felt little to no chemistry between the two actors. It was as if they were just reciting their lines so they could get paid and move on to an indie flick to gain some street cred.
The Script
Screenwriter, Melissa Rosenberg combined many scenes and even added new ones to the mix, but she forgot the most essential piece of the story: THE POINT! Even though there is very little character development in the book, I slightly understood why Bella and Edward were so enamored by one another, however in the movie, the die-hard love was so sudden that it was tough to understand where the worship came from and WHY Bella HAD to stay with Edward. Rossenberg clearly wrote this script with only the people who read the book in mind, which is a big no-no for theatrical releases. But hey, this woman also wrote several episodes of The O.C., so I shouldn’t have expected a Gone With The Wind from her.
Also, can I just add that if one of Bella’s reasoning’s for Edwards’ vampire-esque behavior is because he talks like he’s from another time, then why exactly would you have Edward reference GOOGLE in an earlier scene? Not every vampire can be as timely as Count Dracula!
The Direction
Catherine Hardwicke is a nutjob. She needs to realize that not every movie is going to look cool with a shaky camera and extreme close-ups. Almost every scene consisted of a moment of silence while the camera zoomed slowly on the characters’ faces, which was meant to imply their desire for each other, but instead looked more like the beginning of a sex scene in a porno (sans the “bow chicka bow wow” music, although the music playing during those scenes wasn’t any better).
Hardwicke also took it upon herself to create the most heinous flashback scenes I have ever seen. They were sepia-colored, skewed and just really cheesy attempts at trying to be serious business. It was all so corny and ridiculous that I missed the dialogue because I couldn’t stop laughing. She also inserted several montages that were neither here nor there. My favorite ‘flashback’ was probably the one that consisted of Bella and a guyliner-wearing Edward dressed in Victorian outfits while staring seductively into space. This was shown while Bella was researching vampires online. Was it supposed to be Bella’s imagination or just a random montage thrown in for dramatic affect? Even if it was either of the two, it still failed to be necessary. If you’re going to have a flashback of Bella and Edward in a specific era while Bella is reading about all of the various worldly Vampire myths, why not flash through several periods of time rather than focus on the one that is the most cliché? Uh-huh, Hardwicke, think about that while you cackle all the way to the bank.
The Other Stuff That Really Bugged Me
-I don’t care how great of an actress Nikki Reed is, she should not have been Rosalie. There was no way you could successfully turn a chick with very dark features into a pale blonde bombshell. With the caked-on powder, Reed looked more like one of the Wayans brothers in White Chicks than the most beautiful girl in the world. (Don’t even get me started on how ridiculous Jasper looked and acted.)
-I’m all about diversity, but when you have a token Asian and African-American in a movie that is supposed to take place in a bumblefuck town with a population of 3,000, it’s really hard for me to see the difference between Forks and Phoenix, where Bella is originally from. I also spotted a goth playing a waitress in the movie! Hey Forks, New York City called, they want their residents back.
-Now, Bella is supposed to be a very dry-humored character whose jokes often got brushed to the side and misunderstood by her fellow classmates, but Justin Chon, who played Eric and the token Asian, stole her thunder! He was obnoxiously funny, but boy was he quite the comic relief! I was waiting for him to look into the camera and tell us that the he’ll be here all week and to try the veal.
I will end my blotchy review with one last peeve: the Score. It reminded me of the generic and dramatic guitar-induced music that you’d often hear on shows like Beverly Hills 90210 and Melrose Place. And this brings me to my final thought…
Twilight felt like a made-for-basic-cable-TV movie. The entire vibe was cheesy, wooden and insignificant. After watching the movie, I now have a newfound appreciation for the actual book (but don’t get your panties all twisted, I still am not a fan). It’s a shame this movie was made by a predominantly female crew, because these broads give aspiring filmmakers like myself a bad rep.
November 22, 2008 @ 10:49PM
…and there go most of my friends.
Filed under: Lifestyle, Movies, Random Shit, Style | Tags: friends, haircuts, high school musical 3, hsm3, vanessa hudgens, words of wisdom, zac efron
It has been awhile since any of the contributing snarks have graced this blog with their presence, but I will break this silent treatment once and for all (or at least until I run out of things to write about)…
During my last entry – nearly a hundred years ago, it seems – I promised a High School Musical 3 review. Unfortunately, I can’t say that I followed through with my promise on a promptly matter. And even more so, I can’t say that I actually come bearing a HSM3 review right now… What I can say is, it was campy, ridiculous, dramatic and lacked the following: acting skills, Sharpay, a shirtless Zac Efron, a consistent time-line, sense of time and proximity and catchy songs. What it didn’t lack: Shimmy dance moves courtesy of Zac Efron, unnecessary characters, Vanessa Hudgens’ shitty acting, homo-erotic innuendos and a whole lot of LOL-worthy moments.
Anyway, today I feel compelled to briefly rant about something very very important… No, this will not be about Pop 8 or President elect Obama, but about something a lot more crucial: FRIENDS WHO DO NOT TELL OTHER FRIENDS THE MOTHAFUCKIN’ TRUTH ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCES!
Let me elaborate. Let’s say, hypothetically, you’re about to go for your long overdue haircut and you’re thinking about getting a very different cut than what you normally get. Let’s say, hypothetically, you want to get a funky bob cut (and you’re a girl with ass-length gorgeous wavy hair). That’s a HUGE change, am I right? Now, let’s say you send out a mass e-mail to all of your dear friends with pictures of several celebrities who are sporting the same haircut that you want. You tell these friends “PLEASE REPLY BACK IF YOU THINK THIS WILL LOOK GOOD ON ME!” Only 3 of these so-called “friends” reply back and out of the 3, 2 tell you to “OMG GO FOR IT! YOU’LL LOOK SO GOOD!” and the other friend (let’s call this friend the best friend you’ll ever have) tells you to not get the cut because it will not only accentuate your already round face, but it will make you look like a fool, because you have such puffy hair. You opt to listen to the two jackass friends who are either blind, have no sense of style or just don’t want to hurt your feelings.
So, you get the haircut and of course, just like the best friend you’ll ever have predicted, you look like a fucking fool.
You feel too crunchy to admit that you look awful, so you start posting pictures of your new haircut on all of the social networking sites you’re a member of in attempt to get your sugarcoated friends to comment on them with jargon like, “OMG YOU LOOK SO AMAZING! THAT HAIRCUT LOOKS SO HOT ON YOU!” And you succeed. Lots of shmucks reply praising your haircut as if it was like the second coming of Christ. You know you look like crap, but this does not stop you from soaking in all of the phony compliments. However, the best friend you’ll ever have, on the other hand, is looked down upon for being a jerk for not loving your haircut from the get go.
My point is, if you consider yourself a true friend, you will tell your friends the damn truth; enough beating around the bush and worrying about hurt feelings. You guys are good friends, feelings will not get hurt, they will only be taken into consideration.
Even if you or your friends will only take the advice with a grain of salt, at least the advice was honest.
Words of Wisdom: While friends don’t let friends drink and drive, they also shouldn’t let friends get shitty haircuts (or unflattering outfits)!
Filed under: Movies | Tags: august rush, freddie highmore, hbo, jonathan rhys meyers, kerri russel, movie review, robbin williams, terrence howard
Oh God, it’s Sunday evening and instead of writing my highly anticipated review of High School Musical 3 (have no fear, it’ll come by the end of the night — that’s what Zac Efron said… OOOH SNAP), I find myself channel surfing to no avail. I stumbled upon August Rush on one of those family HBO channels and even though I kept attempting to avert my attention to something else on TV, I just couldn’t stop watching this train wreck knowing very well that only a few months ago I put myself through this torture already. So, while I gain enough momentum to conjure a review of HSM3, here is an oldie but goodie movie review of August Rush…
August Rush is about an orphan prodigy named Evan (Freddie Highmore) who is the spawn of two musically inclined love birds. Lyla (Kerri Russel) is a renowned concert cellist and Louis (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) is an Irish-import lead singer of a rock band. Both meet for the very first time at a party overlooking Washington Square Park when Lyla goes outside on the balcony to catch a breath of fresh air and Louis is already outside listening to the echoed sound of a harmonica playing in the park. The two engage in small-talk, which could not have possibly exceeded more than five minutes, and before we know it, they whisk each other off their feet. Whether it was Louis’ puffy pillow lips or seducing Irish accent, or Lyla’s innocent demeanor, the two engage in sexual relations on said balcony, which happens to be attached to an apartment that is currently hosting a big classy party. Wow, I never knew a balcony was such an aphrodisiac!
And of course, as anyone who has had a one-night love-fest with a very seductive Irishman knows, no matter how many contraceptives you use, the super Irish semen will still find a way to impregnate you. So, pregnant and in love, Lyla opts to keep the baby, but an accident sends her to the hospital where she prematurely has the baby while unconscious. Her father tells her the baby has died, but instead gives the poor kid up for adoption before his daughter is awoken. Oh, and somewhere in between the love affair and the accident, the sexy Irishman leaves New York City to tour with his band. I think.
Fast forward to eleven years later, and the offspring, Evan, is in an orphanage seeking a way to leave in order to find his parents that he swears he can “hear.” After meeting a social worker (Terrence Howard) who visits from New York, Evan flees to New York City without a penny to his name. How he figured his parents would be in New York City is beyond me, but he arrives to Manhattan and begins to follow the music in his head.
He manages to find Washington Square Park where he was conceived (although he doesn’t know it), and befriends a feisty young busker who plays guitar in the park and gives his earnings to a crazy guy named Wizard (Robbin Williams) in exchange for food and shelter. Basically, Wizard is like Fagin (of Oliver Twist), and from what I gather, August Rush is supposed to be a modern-day play on the Oliver Twist tale… I think.
To get to the point without giving too much away (although, there is not much to give away if you have any inkling of common sense), Wizard discovers that Evan is a musical prodigy and sends the kid off to the park to play guitar under the stage name “August Rush” (hence the title of the movie. Ooooh… Ahhhh…), all while the social worker is on a prowl to find him. And then somewhere in between Evan running away from Wizard, and the sexy Irishman, Louis, becoming a bigwig sell out who returns to New York City to look for Lyla after more than a decade being MIA (why now, buddy?), Lyla finds out that her son is actually alive and begins to look for him.
So, let’s recap: August is searching for his parents, the social working is searching for August, Lyla is also searching for August, and the sexy Irishman is searching for Lyla.
In the midst of this search fiasco, Evan discovers that he can miraculously read music and write Juilliard-worthy compositions after quickly being taught a silly mnemonic from a seven-year-old. There is no denying that Evan is a prodigy (the boy picked up guitar in 0.5 seconds without any former training), but even if you’re Jimi Hendrix and Mozart rolled into one, it does not mean that you can teach yourself how to read music notes without a single tutorial handbook insight! It’s like quickly reciting the alphabet to someone who is illiterate in a language that they can only speak, and expect them to know how to read and write after that… Oh wait a second, I almost forgot that August Rush is a fairy tale. Phew!
Although August Rush is completely unrealistic, I didn’t expect much from a movie that was clearly advertised as a fairy tale. There are fantastic scenes that show just how powerful the role of music plays in the movie, which for the A.D.D. generation might have lagged. My favorite of those were the intertwining scenes of Lyla playing cello at a Lincoln Center-esque hall and Louis rocking out at an underground venue; these two different sounds blended together to form a whole new sound that was so oxymoronic it was actually pretty damn good. This made me realize that the only character that I actually cared about in August Rush was the actual music; everyone else was so melodramatic that anything they did or say was mediocre, to say the least.
Since music plays the ultimate role as the compass in August Rush, everyone “follows the music” until they find each other in the end. Blah Blah Blah, let’s kiss, marvel at the boy wonder, play some more music, shed a few tears, and live happily ever after.
I recommend this movie to the demographic that August Rush is targeting: children under the age of 15, adults over the age of 65 (preferably female), pregnant females who are hormonal and awe at the sight of anything sweet, chicks who like cheesy movies, and all of you Jonathan Rhys Meyers fans who have been waiting patiently for something new from the sexy Irishman.
Filed under: Politics, Television | Tags: Election, political debate, Project Runway, Tim Gunn, undecided, vote
While perusing through my buddy list whilst watching Project Runway‘s Season Finale (I just love multi-tasking like that; it’s a skill that very few have perfected), I noticed that all of my uber political friends were “away” watching the debate (and most of their away messages consisted of something smart alecy about the candidate their against). My first reaction was “OH SHIT, I CAN’T BELIEVE I AM MISSING THE DEBATE! HOLY FUCK, WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? I DIDN’T EVEN DVR IT!” but then it hit me: CALM THE HELL DOWN, ALANNA! You already know who you’re voting for come November 4th. The debates are meant for the undecided, and since you’re far from that, go ahead with your decided self and enjoy the fashion show consisting of clothes that you will never fit into.
So this is where I went from being pissed off at Kenley Collins for giving Tim Gunn yet another attitude (what a condescending and pretentious bitch), to being pissed off at my friends. (Man, I’m either hardcore PMSing or hardcore drinking the hatorade for no apparent reason.) I’m sorry, but if you’re already adamant about who you’re voting for, why the hell are you torturing yourself watching a debate that will not only piss you off, but not benefit you what-so-ever? Unless, of course, there is a small inkling that you’re slightly unsure of your choice… or you just think Obama and McCain are dreamy to look at.
I really dislike people who plop themselves on their couch to watch the debate — wearing their “Vote for __insert candidate of your choice__” memorabilia — and then yell about the candidate they dislike for being a “moron.” No shit they’re a moron, Sherlock… THAT’S WHY YOU’RE NOT VOTING FOR THEM! So, before you stuff even more cheesy puffs into your mouth in hopes that this will comfort you, turn to BRAVO and watch some reality TV full of rainbows and sass to calm you down. I’m serious. Just fucking stop trying to prove to others that you’re a politico and start proving to yourself that you secretly want Tim Gunn to be your bff.
Leave the debates for the undecided; let the candidates attempt to win those people over, instead of unintentionally giving you more material to rant about.
And on that note… Some words of wisdom to go by for the undecided and decided alike:
Filed under: Popculture, Television | Tags: dr. drew pinsky, fatman scoop, love line, man & wife, mtv, sex with mom & dad, shanda, trl
Now that TRL got canned, MTV is officially music video-free (aw, bummer). With an array of quality reality shows vying for attention (Paris, meet Heidi, Heidi meet Paris), MTV decided to also sneak in two shows about sex… Right, because those who listen to music also have sex and a music television channel should cater to those people, or else they will write angry e-mails complaining about the lack of sex shows on a music channel that stopped airing music videos years ago. Yes, that’s exactly fucking it! BRILLIANT, MTV, JUST FUCKING BRILLIANT! So, now instead of an hour of TRL, we are now blessed with Sex… With Mom & Dad and Man & Wife.
Let’s start with Sex… With Mom & Dad. Not only is the title cringe-worthy, but the premise is just as equally cringe-worthy. Basically, hot ass Dr. Drew Pinsky (of Love Line and Celebrity Rehab fame) teaches parents and their slutty offsprings how to talk to one another about sex. Apparently, it’s part of Think MTV’s sexual-health campaign entitled “It’s Your (Sex) Life,” but I don’t know anyone who is sexually-active and would tune in for this half-hour gem and want to approach their parents about sex afterwards. Aw, what a precious PSA that could have been summed up in less than two minutes and aired as a commercial. But instead, it’s like a fucked up episode of Full House. Not to mention, how many more episodes can you produce before this subject becomes redundant?
I’m barely ever home in time to watch Sex… With Mom & Dad anyway, so I don’t even feel like I should keep bitching about it, but what I was at home in time for the other day was Man & Wife, and Jesus-fucking-Christ, how I wish I wasn’t.
Synopsis from MTV.com:
“Man and Wife break new ground as the first married couple in the hip-hop genre discussing sex, money, sex, relationships, sex, jobs, sex, politics, sex, marriage, and yes, sex! Inspired by Scoop and Shanda’s www.ManandWife.tv, one of the most popular video podcast shows across the internet and a podcast that consistently tops the charts on iTunes, Man and Wife, the TV show, is one of those rare programs that boldly goes where no show has gone before. But make no mistake; this is not just a show about talkin’ dirty.”
No, MTV, it isn’t just a show about “talkin’ dirty,” it’s also a show that we can all do without. Honestly, just because this did well on the internet, doesn’t mean it will do well on basic cable… with a live audience, nonetheless.
First of all, I don’t need to see Fatman Scoops’ man tits and back rolls seeping through his wife beater right before I go to sleep; this is how nightmares are formed! And what the hell does fierce Shanda, and her crazy ass weave, see in him?! He looks like he smells 24/7. (I can only assume he is good in the sack, since their entire forte is talking about it, but still, not an image I want to envision… ever.)
And they lay in bed during the entire show! NO, JUST NO. I understand it may look “innovative,” and it may fit perfectly with the theme, but not only is it fucking awkward as hell, but having the hosts of the show lay in bed for the entire duration is going to bore the A.D.D. demographic the is attempting to target.
Oh, and the best part is when Scoop and/or Shanda make a corny sexual innuendo and the camera cuts to an audience member laughing their fucking ass off. I can almost guarantee that they shoot the audience members’ pseudo reactions before the show even begins so they have reactions to insert into the show when needed. Sort of like an applause meter, except not. And you wanna know why? BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT FUNNY!!!
And the fucking questions that people ask… LOVE LINE ALREADY ANSWERED ALL OF THEM…10 YEARS AGO…BY DR. DREW (geez, with all the fucking sex-related shit that he has done, I hope he’s like the second coming of Christ in bed)!!! And just because this time around the questions are being answered by a sassy bitch and her loud and obnoxious spouse, doesn’t mean it’s any different or ground-breaking. It’s just awkward and contrived as shit. It’s more awkward than watching Sue Johanson – who is a little ol’ grandma – not only talk about sex, but talk about sex while holding the newly released sex toys with her little ol’ grandma hands. And I was also about to say it’s more contrived than anything Diablo Cody could ever write, but that’s actually not true at all.
MTV: totally irrelevant, one show at a time.
Filed under: Movies | Tags: dvd, forgetting sarah marshall, jason segel, jonah hill, judd apatow, kristen bell, mila kunis, movie review, russel brand
It has become almost a tradition that as soon as the weather gets warm and the flowers begin to blossom, the frat pack would release a movie of truly perverse and epic proportions. In 2003, we were introduced to the original frat pack with the April release of Old School, and five years and a few new inductees later, Jason Segel (with the producing help of fraternity honcho, Judd Apatow) brought us, Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Now the movie is a day away from being released on DVD (in blu-ray too… ZOMG!), so I come bearing a movie review…
Peter Bretter (Segel) is in the slumps after his television star girlfriend, Sarah Marshall (Kristen Bell), breaks up with him in the most awkward and nudist of ways (let’s just say, after this scene, you will know exactly what religion Segel is). With the help of his quirky step-brother, he decides to take a lonesome trip to Hawaii to take his mind off of Sarah (hence the title). However, as luck would have it, Sarah and her newest squeeze, British rock star and self-proclaimed playboy, Aldous Snow (played by Russell Brand, who in my opinion, steals every scene that he is in), are staying at the same hotel. Instead of running away, Peter decides to stick it out and make the most of his makeshift trip. With the help of front-desk receptionist, Rachael (Mila Kunis), Peter befriends an array of characters that bring even more comic relief to the film — including some excellent cameos– which eventually becomes just the help that he needs to destroy his memory of Sarah Marshall.
Forgetting Sarah Marshall is laugh-out-loud funny, but that is to be expected, since it is written by Freaks and Geeks alum, Jason Segel (think Seth Rogan only taller and more charming). The premise may sound silly, and at the same time slightly stupid (you might be asking yourself, “Why would he want to go on vacation alone?”/”Why doesn’t he just find another hotel?”), but what is a frat pack movie without silly and stupid?
The only suggestion I have for those who enjoy nitpicking at movies with little to no substance is to just not analyze anything about it! Yes, there are scenes that completely contradict each other, and characters that are not fully developed, but the point of Forgetting Sarah Marshall isn’t to bring the audience an Oscar-worthy cinematic masterpiece (no offense, Jason), but to bring genuine laughter to the home front instead.
This is a great date movie when you’re feeling too cheap and lazy to go out and want easy access to your room in case the sex scenes excite your partner, and an even better remedy for those whose summer happiness is a few degrees away from becoming completely nonexistent for the rest of the year. So I suggest you start switching the order in which your movies on netflix are in, because you will definitely want to make room for Forgetting Sarah Marshall. (The complete third season of the Partridge Family can wait, trust me.)
For more of Alanna’s movie reviews, please visit www.accordingtoalanna.com
Filed under: Movies | Tags: alexis dziena, ari graynor, kat dennings, michael cera, nick and norah's infinate playlist, veronica mars
I attended a private screening of Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist last week and unbeknownst to me, the movie was receiving major comparisons to my favorite movie of all-time, Juno (*sarcasm* teehee). I feel like the shitheads who are comparing Nick and Norah to Juno are only doing so because of the sheer fact that both movies have Michael Cera in them. Genius guys, real fucking genius. That’s like me comparing Good Will Hunting to Gigli because of Ben Affleck. Or Scary Movie 1 to Scary Movie 4 because of Anna Faris (wait, was Anna even in the 4th installment?). Luckily for me, I knew what I was going in for because not too long ago, I decided to put my difference with books aside and actually read the one that Nick and Norah was adapted from.
I enjoyed the book (titled the same as the movie) and it was quite a short read, which was even better! However, I always pictured a more ‘rocker’ type to play Nick. Michael Cera put a different tone of humor to the character and delivered amazingly, but I still wasn’t fully buying him as Nick. Adam Brody or Joseph Gordon-Levitt would have been better picks, but hey, I don’t blame Columbia Pictures for wanting to cash in on the Michael Cera fandom. (Hi I’m Alanna and I’m a Michael Cera fangirl.)
Either Cera was miscast, or his ‘love interests’ were; call me shallow, but I just couldn’t buy the whole idea of both Alexis Dziena (who played ex-girlfriend Tris) and Kat Dennings (Norah) falling for him. Sure, Nick is in a band and has an amazing sense of humor, but those two attributes do not fully make for a ladies’ man. Cera is just a little TOO awkward, self-conscious and boyish-looking to be Nick, or Dziena was a little TOO ‘sexy’ to be one of his former girlfriends. It also did not help that Tris’ new boyfriend and Norah’s ex were polar opposites of Cera; confident and masculine. But the one thing that neither d-bags had that Cera prevailed in, was personality, which I guess in the long run, can win even a supermodel over (see: Heidi Klum and Seal).
Norah’s “bff” and complete and utter lush, Caroline (played by Ari Graynor), was given a much bigger role in the movie, which I have to say, was surprisingly well constructed. All of her scenes were vomit-inducing hilarity (naturally) and she was easily the biggest comic relief of the film (besides so many other things like the cameos made by two SNL feature players and Nick’s amusing gbff’s).
So, aside from the minor casting error (it’s so minor I’m actually completely over it by now), I did manage to look past it enough to actually really like this movie. So much so, that I am pegging it the new Garden State. Hipsters will EAT this fucking movie up with a Pinkberry spoon. This will put Dennings on the map (move over Ellen Page, THANK GOD) and insert Michael Cera into even more indie-induced movies about awkwardly funny guys, cute girls and lots of rad music.
For a full synopsis of Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, please head on over to its wiki page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nick_and_Norah’s_Infinite_Playlist
And lookie what I came across: a 2006 episode of Veronica Mars with MICHAEL CERA! And better yet, he is playing a COLLEGE STUDENT! Let’s just hope he savored every moment of that experience, because it might be awhile before he graduates from High School roles.
