Yes, "American Idol's" little dred-head made a mockery of Bob Marley's "I Shot the Sheriff" this week, but he forgot the words to "Mr. Tambourine Man." That floored me. OK, so I was offended enough to hear him massacre the great Bob Dylan, but Castro claimed to be such a folk junkie. I'm glad he was sent packing tonight.
If you can bear to watch it, the link is here. Sacrilege!!
Can one love L.A. any more???
Read about my Monday night at the Academy screening here at Pajamas Media. The tidbits offered by Tarantino and company afterward were, as I write, juicier than a Big Kahuna Burger!!
Heston was great in "The Ten Commandments," "Ben-Hur," et al. But the news obituaries written about him are interesting: Noting that he marched for civil rights (as seen in this 1961 photo outside a whites-only restaurant in Oklahoma City) and led the Screen Actors Guild, press reports then note his leadership of the National Rifle Association took him in some sort of right-wing direction. But it seems to me that he was just being consistent in his defense of constitutional rights, right?
So I was on the phone earlier with pal, D.C. correspondent, and GOP-V poet laureate Cheryl Felicia Rhoads earlier, and she was filling me in on the upcoming GI Film Festival on May 14-18 in Washington. (Speaking of that, "Platoon" is on TV right now, the charming scene where they're ordered to empty the latrines... T-minus an hour and a half until Willem Dafoe dies and I start tearing up and sniffling.) Anyway, Cheryl said that James Franco of Spidey fame (yeah, he won a Golden Globe for being James Dean) will be at this year's fest, getting a Heritage Award for portraying GIs onscreen. Other Hollywood folk there will include Gary Sinise and Jon Voight (hopefully with the white scarf).
The first deadline for submissions has passed, but the late deadline is March 15 and the extended deadline is April 1 (features and docs accepted).
Check out Cheryl's write-up of last year's inaugural GI Film Fest!
(Current "Platoon" scene -- I'm singing along to "Tracks of My Tears"...)
What with all the drama happening in the political arena, the Academy Awards were something of a snooze this year. In fact, I JUST woke up from the ceremonies, because despite Jon Stewart being the master of ceremonies, it was duuuuull. But a few comments on this years proceedings:
1. Despite the fact that two Brits, a dashing Spaniard, and a lovely French lady swept the acting categories, we did NOT get Ellen Degeneres raving how this is the "most international Oscars ever". When she hosted last year, I wasn't sure if there were difficulties in the broadcast, or if she actually did say that as often as I heard it.
2. Best acceptance speech hands-down was Tilda Swinton for starting with "Oh, no. Happy birthday, man. I have an American agent who is the spitting image of this. Really truly the same shape head and, it has to be said, the buttocks." Most gushing and shocked goes to Marion Cotillard, who was almost as shocked as we were.
3. Diablo Cody: Totally thrilled that you won, being the spoiler from outside of the establishment rebel that you are, but seriously, hideous dress. There is a difference between Wild-N-Crazy Dress and Flintstones-Reject Tunic. Perhaps you thought your leopard trumped Bjork's swan?
4. Despite being nominated for so many things, Juno was never going to win more than Best Screenplay. Simply put, any movie that has an adoring 13 year-old fan following is unlikely to make a clean sweep of the awards. I'm of the jaded opinion that the noms were a ploy to get new blood hooked on watching the show, which did NOT work.
Writers strike or not, this was pretty ho-hum fare, though at least they got rid of the damned shadow dancing Pilobolus Dance Troupe from last year. Until they can pare down the ceremony to shorter than three hours, the Academy Awards will cease to be putting anyone asleep, as we'll all be tuned into American Idol.
Is the fact that, during an election year, so little preachiness was heard from the Oscar podium a good sign? Have they decided to get back to the business of making movies? Or is it just that so few Americans won that the winners just don't give a rip about American politics?
I write about this in my Los Angeles Daily News column today:
"Out here in Los Angeles we've known for a long time that there are fewer degrees of separation between Hollywood and politics than there are between Kevin Bacon and, well, anyone.
People running on a platform of change? Yeah, they're called independent filmmakers. The entrenched liberal establishment? It's called Babs and the Weinstein brothers. A town frozen by endless gridlock? It's Capitol Hill 24-7, but L.A. during the writers strike.
And though ostensibly home to more fiction than The New York Times, Hollywood actually has lobbyists who behave inappropriately: We call it the casting couch.
When it came to politics as usual, Sunday's 80th Academy Awards resembled the United Nations General Assembly. And the Best Supporting Actor is... Spain! Best Supporting Actress goes to Britain! Best Actor, Ireland! Best Actress, France! And the Best Picture Oscar goes to the country of ... Texas? Well, thank heavens Russia didn't veto Austria's Best Foreign-Language Film win.
The Oscars also have a storied history of turning the film canister on its side, stepping on top and turning it into a political soapbox.
Michael Moore - who lost this year for his 'socialism rocks!' docudramedy 'Sicko' - has always provided ample reason for the orchestra to crank it up.
Moore wanted Comrade Fidel - who has a freer schedule these days, save for his duties as the wizard behind the curtain - to be his Oscar date: 'If I could talk to (Oscar Producer) Gil Cates and maybe get Castro in a dance number at the beginning of the show?' Moore mused to AP Television. At least if Fidel tripped again and broke his knee, he'd actually get some good medical care at Cedars-Sinai.
But in this, an election year, it was particularly fascinating to see what proclamations would come from the podium, who would try to 'Barack the Vote' from the red carpet or denounce George W. Bush (which was sooo three years ago). ..."
Well, besides not stealing drug dealers' hard-earned cash, of course.
I write at Pajamas Media today about the unambiguous, black-and-white good and evil seen in Javier Bardem's infamous character Anton Chigurh, and how important it is to see that unfold onscreen when we face similar enemies -- maybe not armed with cattle guns and page-boy hair -- in real life.
"...In one of my favorite films, Pulp Fiction, the hitman duo of John Travolta as Vincent Vega and Samuel L. Jackson as Jules Winnfield are arguably the film’s most likable characters — and characters whose fates are molded by the concept of redemption. After believing that God stopped a hail of short-range bullets from striking either he or Vincent while out on a job, Jules decides to give up the hitman life and go straight. He then puts this talk into action by deciding to spare a pair of restaurant robbers in his 'transitional period.' Vincent mocks Jules’ conviction about divine intervention and his decision to give up contract killing. The moral of the story? Vincent is killed in a most inglorious way. Jules lives.
But Chigurh is a character who would have unceremoniously killed Pulp’s Pumpkin and Honeybunny robbers, along with the blustering restaurant manager and maybe the waitstaff, then would have enjoyed the rest of Vincent’s bacon before hitting the road. (Just nobody ask him where he’s headed, friendo.)
You leave the theater after No Country realizing the central message, intended or not: We may spend so much time trying to figure why people are bad that we fail to accept that some people are just bad — and should be dealt with accordingly. Like Ed Tom Bell wakes up from his dream, we, too, can wake from a false sense of security, difficult as it may be to understand the changing world around us..."
The
hate-filled Westboro Baptist Church -- you know, that scruple-less
group that stands outside soldiers' funerals with signs declaring that
the deceased is in hell because America tolerates gays (I think that's
the seven degrees of separation excuse, anyway) -- plans to protest Heath Ledger's funeral:
"Members of the Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kan., are trying to find out where the 28-year-old actor's funeral will be held and have already made signs to hold outside the Oscars that read 'God Hates Fags and Fag Enablers,' 'Heath in Hell' and 'Mourn for Your Sins,' Shirley Phelps-Roper, daughter of the church's controversial founder Pastor Fred Phelps, told ABCNEWS.com.
Though Ledger was not gay, the church believes he 'misused the giant megaphone given to him by God Almighty to speak the truth about fags,' Phelps-Roper said, and instead 'used his position of prominence to say God is a liar and that homosexuality is not an abomination.'"
Rumor has it the funeral will be held in Ledger's native Australia, so if the Westboros can figure out where that is in relation to Topeka, I hope they meet with a few well-aimed boomerangs.
More on Heath's death from our entertainment guru Greg Hernandez at Out in Hollywood...
Congratulations to Paul Thomas Anderson, whose Signal Hill (though filmed in Texas) oil saga "There Will Be Blood" snagged eight nods at the Oscar announcement this morning, which puts the film in a tie with the equally brilliant "No County for Old Men." I've been a fan of PTA's ever since the genius Valley saga "Boogie Nights," but while he was nominated for Oscars for that and "Magnolia" this is the first time he's been nominated for best director. "Blood" and "Country" are clearly the best films of the year, so it's nice to see the Academy respond accordingly. Daniel Day-Lewis and Javier Bardem were both amazing.
And this is a year that I've actually seen many of the films, including "Atonement," which should win for Hottest Scot in a Leading Role for smokin' James McAvoy. I saw "No Country" last week the perfect way -- in a one-screen, 1947 theater on Main Street in Seal Beach, with popcorn that had real butter drizzled over the top. Bardem's character was fascinating because Hollywood has been full of hitmen with scruples -- case in point, the likable Jules and Vincent in "Pulp Fiction" -- but Bardem's character has absolutely none.
Maybe, in Strikeland, there should be a new rule this year: If you don't show up to get your award, the Academy will go to envelope B...
Egads!! Well, she has had many close shaves as of late...
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Change is good
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