So, regular readers already know that Uncle P is a "Gleek." And while this past Sunday's post-Superbowl episode may not have been the best ever, it sure ranked among this season's best so far.
The taunting and Slushie-dumping has gone too far, so Mr. Schuester (Matthew Morrison) and Coach Beiste (Dot Jones) join forces, making the dissenting members of the football team join Glee Club for at least a week to participate in the Championship game's half-time show. Of course the football players, led by the closeted Dave Karofsky (Max Adler) rebel at first, thinking Glee Club is "gay." Meanwhile, Cheerios' coach and series villain Sue Sylvester (the always brilliant and hilarious Jane Lynch) hatches a plan to shoot poor, dimwitted Brittany (Heather Morris) out of circus canon during the Cheerleading Championship.
In the end (Spoiler Alert) the jocks relent, proving the joy of performing far outweighs the price of winning. Brittany, Santana and Quinn abandon Sue for Glee; Rachel, Mercedes and Tina take one for the team and Sue is left fuming over events completely (for once) out of her control. It was nice to see the good guys win for a change, though to be honest, in the real world Sue Sylvester would have been fired ages ago. And there was the extra-special schadenfreude of Sue getting a back tattoo of herself with her name misspelled. "It's Slyvester, right?"
Meanwhile, over at the private boys' school, Kurt and his adorable crush Blaine (Darren Criss) chime in with a completely unrelated cover of "Bills, Bills, Bills," which only went to show that Ryan Murphy and company still have a few surprises up their sleeves.
Of course, "Glee" is hardly representative of the "real world." In my high school, the football team participated in the musical (they were the Seabees in South Pacific my senior year) and I can remember the Captain of the football team (my understudy as Emile) telling me he was terrified at the prospect of going on in my place.
The 70's were a weird time and while I can't imagine a conversation like that taking place today, I certainly hope that modern high school jocks and performers have the same kind of respect for one another. And I look forward to the day when Murphy allows Karofsky to acknowledge his sexuality in a healthy and supportive way. Until then, I'll continue to enjoy "Glee" for what it is: the first ever successful musical TV series.
So... while making my daily commute this morning, I came to the conclusion that inebriated rhesus monkeys could probably drive better than 50% of the idiots that were on the roads in southeastern PA this morning. This is not exactly a new observation for Uncle P, but rather a concern about the lack of common courtesy in my fellow human beings.
This is something I have observed not just among drivers, but in almost every aspect of daily life. When I visit my local grocery store, I am constantly amazed by the shoppers who leave their carts in the middle of the aisle while they go in search of what they are looking for, without a care about the other shoppers they may be inconveniencing by doing so. While searching for a parking spot at my local strip mall, I am stunned by the ruthlessness with which other folks will steal the spot which I have patiently for, turn signal be damned. And speaking of turn signals - please use them. And put them on before you brake, so I know why you are braking. And if you call me to ask a question, please let me answer that question before you interrupt - I'm about to finish a sentence that will address your question in full.
Would you like me to move, so you can reach the perfect lemon? Then say "Excuse me," as you elbow your way towards it. Do you want to borrow something of mine? No problem -- as long as you return it when you are finished with it (unless its the thirtieth cigarette you've bummed without offering me a single one of yours). Need a ride home? Okay - just don't ask me to stop for a quick moment and then spend an hour at the Quickie Mart while I grow increasingly impatient in the parking lot. Has the light turned yellow? Then let the person who has patiently waited to make a left turn go, rather than gunning your engine through the intersection because you don't have the patience to wait two minutes for the next green light. Does the person behind you in line at the checkout have one item while you have twenty? Let them go ahead... you'll both benefit. Does a co-worker smile and acknowledge you as he passes you in the corridor? Then do the same, rather than stare at the floor and ignore him.
None of these things are particularly difficult to do. And they make the world just that much more a pleasant place in which to spend one's life. You may well think that you are the Center of the Universe (and for all intents and purposes, you are), but that doesn't mean you are the ONLY person in that Universe. Like it or not, we have to share the planet with one another. Imagine how much nicer and easier your life would be if you were treated with the most basic of courtesies.
Sadly, try as I might, more people are far more concerned with their own Universes than the one which we are forced to share.
Sorry for the lecture (I had a day). Those of you who already practice common courtesy know I'm not talking to or about them and those who don't are already lost causes... but maybe, just maybe, one of the latter group will recognize themselves and decide to make a change for the better. Of course, those who are so unaware will simply assume I'm talking about someone else and go about their lives being a**holes without knowing so and completely miss the point of the post in first place.
"Uncle P, why are so so cranky tonight?" Honestly - it's because the a**holes seem to be outnumbering the decent folks and that is simply not acceptable. The next time you find yourself in public, ask yourself how you want to be treated and do the same to for everyone you encounter. I believe It's called "The Golden Rule."
It's not easy coming up with pithy and amusing things to write about every day. I'm still working on the promised but delayed Ariel Awards for this year and while I could probably prattle on about some subject or other which has significance to myself and a small circle of my friends, I'd rather wait until I have something I think is significant to say to everyone.
Of course, it's not that I imagine anything I have to say has any real significance at all. I'm not quite that arrogant (or at least I a hope I'm not). Still, it's unfair for me to expect you to hang on every little thing I write. Indeed, all of us probably have better things to do.
I'm still fighting my annual battle with S.A.D. but hoping that the upcoming reunion dinner with my amazing Top Girls cast on Saturday will bring some relief. And thoughts of my usually annual trek to the Sunshine State (delayed thanks to last year's forced Home Improvement debacles) is looming. It's amazing what 10 days of 80+ degree weather can do for one's spirits). And hopefully, something will come along to alleviate all the terrible news coming out of Egypt and other Middle Eastern nations. Or maybe something incredibly and fabulously gay will come along to make me laugh and want to share.
I'm still trying to get the JTMF regulars together to make an "It Gets Better" video for The Trevor Project before it becomes passe, a task proving equal to herding cats. And I'm starting to work on pre-production for JTMF's upcoming production of Charles Busch's Die Mommie, Die! for our annual June fundraiser, but that seems so far away...
The winter will end and Uncle P will rebound (at least I hope I will). And I am often amazed at how therapeutic blogging (i.e. bitching publicly) can be. I thank all of you for hanging in with me and promise I'll have some funny and (hopefully) thought-provoking things to say soon.
Maybe something out-and-out silly will help:
Goooood Niiiight.... a ding-a-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!
A dearth of anything truly interesting to say combined with a particularly nasty bout of Seasonal Affective Disorder have left your Uncle P in a rather dour mood of late.
I'm still keeping my Dream Journal though, and hope that my most recent bizarro dream about Alien Hands (don't ask, just yet) will result in another full-fledged screenplay, though I have to wonder where that particular scenario might lead. The dream itself involved dismembered alien hands that turned into feet which grew legs that developed into a torso... And no, I didn't eat anything strange, spicy or greasy before bed last night. I'd detail the entire dream here, but I don't want to risk your thinking I'm completely insane (as if you don't already think that, anyway).
I am still feeling rather trapped by snow (and not at all happy to hear that another major storm may be headed our way this coming week), despite having done some grocery shopping today (parking was a literal nightmare, thanks to the 8+ feet high piles of snow in the stores' parking lots). Give me a day or so to cope and I'll be back to my usual shenanigans. Or not.
In the meantime, I encourage the less squeamish among you to check out Bugcrush, a short, gay-themed horror film from 2006. Suggested by J.A. at My New Plaid Pants and posted on Post-Mortem Depression, this short (31 minutes) but effective film captures gay teen angst in a way that few modern filmmakers have been been to do. It's also probably NSFW.
So, the Oscar Nominations were announced yesterday. I, like many film fans out there, am stunned by some of the glaring omissions on the Academy's list this year.
First and foremost, Christopher Nolan (L) was not nominated for Best Director for Inception, despite the movie's nominations for Best Picture and Best Original Screenplay. Really? Did this "Best Picture" nominee direct itself? It certainly didn't write itself. Inception was also snubbed for a Best Editing nod. I ask anyone who has seen the film: How did the amazing last 40 minutes of it come together so brilliantly? Was it luck? Or maybe magic. I think not.
Also ignored: Matt Damon in True Grit. This was really a slap in the face for an actor who has grown by leaps and bounds in every film he's in. His performance as Texas Ranger LeBeouf was one of his best ever. And since I'm already talking about True Grit, why was the amazing young Hailee Steinfeld nominated as Best Supporting Actress? As in the Charles Portis novel, the Coen Brothers' film was the story of Mattie and her journey, where Rooster and LeBeouf are the supporting characters. Surely Steinfeld deserves to be recognized for her amazing debut, but she was the leading actress in the movie, not a supporting player.
My mother, bless her, has complained for many years that the Oscars are no longer really about 'The Best" but rather about the studios who spend the most money promoting their nominees. And sadly, I am inclined to agree with her. I mean, come on... Crash won over Brokeback Mountain? A serious reality check is needed among Academy voters. Hey AMPASS members - 'Gay' no longer equals 'Evil' and 'Excellent' still equals 'Excellent.'
At the risk of repeating myself, here are the trailers for 10 nominees for Best Picture:
May the actual Best nominees win!
My predictions, anon (though as always, I advise against betting on my predictions....)
Okay... the end of the month of the January is approaching, the Golden Globes have been awarded and the Oscars are about to be announced. Last month I posted my 5 Best and Worst movies of 2010, but I've seen several more movies from last year and I suppose it's time to finally list my Top Ten; a difficult task in a year of many, many bad films. Some of these films have been reviewed previously (a few even recently), while others were not reviewed because I had other things on my mind. If your personal favorites' on the list, yay! If not, get over it and go write about them on your own blog -- Sorry. I had a pretty crappy day at the day-job and it seems to be spilling over here. I'll try to keep that in check for the rest of this post, if you promise not to hold it against me. So, without further ado, here are Uncle P's picks for the Ten Best Movies of 2010:
#10: Kick-Ass
Director Matthew Vaughn (Stardust) takes on the indie-Superhero genre with his hilarious adaptation of Mark Millar's story about an average kid who dreams of being more than he is. With break-out performances from Aaron Johnson and Chloe Moretz, Kick-Ass was the most fun I had at the movies this year.
#9: The Kids Are Alright
Anette Bening and Julianne Moore star as the lesbian parents of kids who seek out their biological father in this touching and often amusing story about what 'family' truly means.
#8: Despicable Me
"The Office" star Steve Carrel is the voice of wannabe super villain Gru in this hilariously delightful film from the guy who made Ice Age, that also redefines 'family.' "It's so FLUFFY!"
#7: Toy Story 3
Pixar once againproves they're the best in the business with this sequel that drove grown men (myself included) to tears.
#6: Let Me In
A box-office disappointment, Let Me In is the Americanized version of the Swedish vampire film Let the Right One In. Chloe Moretz and Kodi Smit-McPhee are the vampire and her thrall-in-training in this dark tale that features Salon.com's "Best Scene of 2010."
#5: The King's Speech
Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush star in this true story of King George VI, his speech pathologist and their struggle to overcome George's stammer on the eve of the most important speech of his Regency. With similar themes to The Madness of King George, Tom Hooper's film reminds of that royalty are still very human beings.
#4: The Social Network
Director David Fincher is best known for his explorations of the darker side ofthe Human Condition (Se7en; Fight Club; Zodiac) and his take on the story of Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg, while far less grim than his usual fare, is yet another fascinating take on the same subject.
#3: True Grit
Westerns will never be at the top of my Favorite Genres list. Still, the Coen brothers' version of the Charles Portis novel is not only brilliantly acted and gorgeously filmed, but it bears the kind of emotional impact that only the best movies can, reminding us once again of the universality of the Human Condition.
#2: Black Swan
Darren Aronofsky's film about performance and obsession is dark, fanciful and plenty disturbing while featuring the year's most amazing performance from seasoned veteran and Golden Globe winner Natalie Portman as a dancer who'll go to almost any lengths to achieve the performance of a lifetime.
#1: Inception
I always think the Best Film of the Year should be the Most Entertaining and Thought-Provoking movie of the year, and for me, that film was Christopher Nolan's Inception. A Sci-Fi espionage thriller with amazing visuals, terrific performances and an amazing score from the always brilliant Hans Zimmer, Inception was the movie that intrigued, excited and provoked me the most this year. A great ride from beginning to end, Inception was simply 2010's Most Entertaining (and therefore Best) movie of 2010.
Agree? Disagree? Have other choices? Let me know. I always love to hear what you have to say.
I took myself to the movies today to finally see Black Swan, Darren Aronofsky's psychological thriller set in the world of professional ballet. While I am hardly a dancer by any means, I did spend four seasons acting for the NYC Ballet and have performed in that magnificent Lincoln Center theatre, so I'd like to think I have a little insight into the subject matter.
Ballet dancers are very unlike actors in that while they understand technique and performance, they have no clue as to how to access character. And such is the problem with Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman), a featured soloist who so very much covets the role of the Swan Queen in the company's upcoming production of 'Swan Lake.' Company director Thomas (Vincent Cassel) sees great promise in Nina, whose technique is nearly perfect, but who has no idea how to access the passion required to dance the role in which she has been cast.
That may well be because her insanely over-protective passive-aggressive mother (Barbara Hershey) has kept her sheltered in their cramped apartment for most of her life. When new dancer Lily (Mila Kunis) joins the company, the stakes are raised and Nina begins to push herself harder than ever. So hard, in fact, that she becomes obsessed to the point-of-no-return.
Nina soon begins to exhibit signs of instability, starting with a series of scratches on her back and leading to... well, see the movie for yourself. Needless to say, Nina's descent into madness is a harrowing thing to watch. It doesn't help that the company's bitter former Prima Ballerina (Winona Ryder) attempts suicide, resulting in an ugly wound to her leg which ensures she'll never dance again.
Portman's performance here is simply breathtaking and she certainly deserves every accolade she's been given, including last night's Golden Globe win. It actually saddens me that her follow-up is in what looks like a completely lame romantic comedy, No Strings Attached. Cassel is appropriately creepy as the pompous director and Kunis has come a long way from her "That 70's Show" roots, embodying the role of the calculating upstart in a dance version of All About Eve. Hershey gives the most over-the-top performance as the smothering Mother From Hell. Ryder isn't given much to do other than to play bitter, but she does so with a certain panache only she could bring to the role. Aronofsky's direction is spot on, even if he is a bit heavy-handed with the black & white imagery and the proliferation of swan figures in as many scenes as he could manage. One can only imagine how much darker (and it's pretty dark) this film could have been in the hands of say, David Fincher or Christopher Nolan. **** (Four Out of Four Stars). Black Swan is rated "R" for Strong Sexual Content.
And now on to the second part of this post - Movie-Going Etiquette:
I may well have enjoyed this film much more than I did if it weren't for the neanderthal seated directly to my left. The auditorium was crowded because it was both a holiday and Portman's win at the Golden Globes. The person (I refuse to use the word 'gentleman') seated on my left was the worst kind of movie patron. He spent the first half of the film grunting and snorting his way through his bag of popcorn, poking me in the ribs with his elbow every time he reached into his bag. He gabbed to his companion constantly, commenting on the movie and questioning things he didn't understand. When he finally set his empty popcorn bag on the floor, he made much of wiping his hands on about a dozen napkins, before toting out his Smartphone to check his messages.
So - a note to movie-goers everywhere. YOU ARE NOT AT HOME! You are sharing a film experience with people who have paid the same amount as you to see a movie. The rest of us don't care what you think (or don't understand) about the film. We don't want to listen to you eating like a sow at the trough; we don't want to be poked by your elbow or blinded by the light from your phone. We want to see the movie without you intruding on it like some annoying gopher spoiling our gardens. If you cannot be civil in public, then stay home and burp and fart your way through movies on DVD or Pay Per View. We paid to see a movie, not listen to your bodily functions.
Rant over. If you have yet to see Black Swan, then I urge you to do so. It's certainly one of the most disturbing and brilliant films you'll see in a long time. Just try to see it as far away from an idiot as you can.
Tonight saw the 68th Annual Hollywood Foreign Press Association's Golden Globe Awards, which supposedly honor the best in both movies and television. Since they are the first awards given during "award season," many people consider them to be indicators of how the AMPAS voters will choose the winners of the Oscars. To which I say: Feh!
Why do I say this? Two words: Pia Zadora. Yes, Pia Zadora. Does anyone remember her? Way back in 1982, Pia won a Golden Globe as Most Promising Newcomer (an award which is no longer given, by the way) for her work in the truly awful Southern potboiler Butterfly. A true stinker of a film, Butterfly is basically about the incestuous relationship between an Arizona farmer (Stacy Keach) and his daughter (Zadora). A wretched train wreck of a film, co-starring Orson Welles as a bellicose judge, Butterfly had yet to be screened by anyone when Zadora won her award. It turned out that her husband Meshulam Riklis (who was 31 years older than she was when they married), actually paid members of the HFPA to vote for her. The scandal nearly scuttled the Golden Globes for good.
So tonight, while I watched the first two hours of this year's Golden Globes (mostly to see just how catty host Ricky Gervais would be), I couldn't help but think of Pia Zadora and her completely undeserved award. And of course, Gervais delivered the goods, taking jibes at certain Scientologistsnot in attendance and the most recent scandal involving tickets to Cher's show in Vegas.
Still doubting? Then take a gander at Zadora's "Award-Winning" performance:
Zadora would go on to be in the film adaptation of Harold Robbins' The Lonely Ladyand later make a hilarious appearance as a beatnik artist in John Waters' 1998 Hairspray. She also had a small role in The Naked Gun 33 1/3, but has since gone on to be a rather minor footnote in Entertainment History. I should also point out that as a child, she appeared in the horrendous Santa Claus Conquers The Martians, though the hilarious folks at MST3K have already skewered that movie - My favorite line? "Pills for breakfast? What are we, Judy Garland?"
So, while favorites like "Glee," The King's Speech and The Social Network may have won Golden Globes tonight, I'll wait until the real awards are given out later this year.
Do you remember Chris Crocker? Chris was the androgynous Vlogger who posted the infamous "Leave Britney Alone!" video on YouTube, which currently has over 36 million hits. He cried and ranted and sobbed and generally made a fool of himself for all the world to see.
Uncle P, for one, was actually embarrassed for the poor thing. That a fan could get so caught up in what other people thought of his obsession he would post such a ridiculous video seemed to me the ultimate in time-wasting and attention-grabbing.
Well, I guess the joke's on me, because Crocker is back with a music video of his own (via). "Freak of Nature" is Crocker's personal diatribe on accepting him for who he is. And while I have never been the kind of person to flaunt my sexuality (the people I love and who love me accept me already), I suppose I can't fault him for trying to extend his Fifteen Minutes, no matter how ridiculous he makes himself look in the process of doing so. Watch the clip and then tell me you aren't still embarrassed for the poor thing (possibly NSFW):
Seriously. Is it me? Or are you as embarrassed for this young man as I am? Now I realize that posting this clip only perpetuates Crocker's presence on the Web, which is exactly what he's hoping for. But it is my hope that by commenting on it's ridiculousness (not to mention how bad the song is), people will see this little fame whore for exactly what he is, and he will remain a very minor footnote in entertainment history. If you're planning on sharing this, share in the context in which I have - derisively calling a whore a whore and hopefully helping to put an end to the kind of undeserved "Instant Celebrity" that exposure on YouTube has managed to create.
Today was the Holiday Party at the Day Job. We boarded the buses and headed to the usual venue (a popular local club/restaurant) where we were treated to a delicious buffet and an open wine and beer bar. We danced, made fools of ourselves and left early after the buses deposited us back at the building. I've said it before and am happy to say it again: I work for a wonderful NPO that treats its employees like family and I consider myself quite blessed to a part of that family.
Anyway, I got home about 2 hours earlier than usual and had every intention of using that time to its best advantage. So, what did I do? I plopped down on the sofa and watched reruns of "Law and Order: SVU" on cable. I had planned to work on my almost finished screenplay and make notes on an idea I had for a novel. Instead, I got caught up in Chris Meloni and Mariska Hargitay investigating the sexual assault a young girl who. along with her unsuspecting parents, was the victim of a car accident. o creativity on my part, whatsoever.
I did manage to make a few notes for the novel, several hours later, but by then, the idea of expending energy on either project was little more than a distant memory. I watched some more DVR'd TV; checked Facebook and my email; played a game and came here to bitch about how little I'd actually done today. Sigh... sometimes I hate my lack of discipline.
So, what does the picture of NBC's "The Cape" have anything to do with anything about which I've talked tonight? On a scale of 1 to 10: 1. Though I will be posting about it as soon as I've actually seen it. I guess that's something...or not. I just ask that you hang in until I actually have something worth saying.
Wow, it's been a long time since I watched TV on a set like the one on your right.
I had one of these in my bedroom for many years, though these days TV viewing is limited to my living room on my Vizio 32" LCD HD flatscreen. It's a good TV with excellent picture and sound. I can't imagine what my grandparents would have thought of a TV that weighed less than ten pounds and delivered movies On Demand or recorded shows without setting the timer on a VCR.
I'll admit that I love TV, especially now. For as much crap as the networks put out (Survivor; The Bachelor/Bachelorette; Two and a Half Men), there is often enough good stuff to counterbalance it. So, for my first big post of the new year, here are my picks for the best TV shows of the past decade:
10. 24
24 was the show that almost wasn't. Debuting not long after 9/11, it was a story of a terrorists plotting the assassination of the first viable black candidate for President, and only our hero Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland) could stop it. Oh - and it was told in real time. Each episode equaled one hour in time, giving us one day in a 24 episode season. The plots were ridiculous (Kim and the cougar?); Jack's survival was preposterous and the story lines were often recycled (how many moles could CTU have?), but there was nothing like it before or since, and it was the best action show since Mission Impossible.
9. Modern Family
The family sitcom had almost been officially declared dead when ABC premiered it's faux-documentary Modern Family, featuring three branches of the family, including a gay couple raising their adopted daughter. Brilliant writing combined with an astounding ensemble cast give is one of the best sitcoms since Friends.
8. Psych
USA continues to provide funny, interesting shows, and Psych is the best since Monk. When Sean Spencer (James Roday) returns to his hometown of Santa Barbara, he teams up with his childhood friend Gus (Dule Hill) and uses the observational techniques taught to him by is father (Corbin Bernsen) to establish himself as a "psychic" detective. Irreverent and often downright silly, Psych is one of TV's most enjoyable hours.
7. How I Met Your Mother
CBS may have the worst sitcom on TV (the repulsively unfunny Two and a Half Men), but it also has one of the best. Terrific writing and ensemble acting (not to mention stand-out Neil Patrick Harris) once again combine to make this tale of a rather unlikeable architect's search for the girl of his dreams, so likable.
6. Arrested Development
This Fox sitcom, produced and narrated by Ron Howard, told the story of the Bluth family, whose father was imprisoned for selling housing that didn't exist (or existed only in Iraq). The show gave rise to the career of Michael Cera, resurrected the career of Jason Bateman and lent a whole new meaning to the term "frozen banana." Sadly, the show was too smart for the average TV viewer and was cancelled after only 3 brilliant seasons.
5. The Closer
Kyra Sedgwick finally won an Emmy last year for her role as Los Angeles Deputy Chief Brenda Johnson, a woman with fierce determination and the ability to elicit a confession from the most cynical of murderers. Her struggles to gain acceptance among her peers; her tenacity when working a case and her love for her FBI agent husband all add up to one of the most endearing characters in a procedural drama in a long time. It helps that Sedgwick is joined by one of the best casts on TV, including J.K. Simmons and hottie Jon Tenney.
4. Six Feet Under
The story of the Fisher Family and their mortuary business was an instant hit for HBO, and producer Alan Ball made sure each episode was filled with black humor and human drama. An amazing cast, terrific writing and a fearless producer gave us a TV classic. Of course, it helped that it had the single best series finale of all time. As Claire made her way East to New York, we got to see just what happened to every character. Only one series finale ever made me cry more... Brilliant.
3. The Walking Dead
Envelope pusher AMC took a huge gamble in producing a very graphic series based in Robert Kirkman's graphic novel about a group of people trying to survive in a world gone mad. Produced by Frank Darabont and Gale Anne Hurd, The Walking Dead is the rare modern zombie story that's more about the living than the dead. And boy, is it good!
2. Pushing Daisies
Series creator Bryan Fuller has had several quirky, funny series, none of which have lasted beyond a season or two. And the best of these was one of TV's best shows ever. In Pushing Daisies, adorable Lee Pace plays Ned, a fellow who can revive the dead with a single touch. The catch? If he touches them again, they die for good. Hilarious, touching, romantic and oh so dark, Pushing Daisies was probably a little too quirky for mainstream America, but it pushed all the right buttons with me.
1. Lost
ABC caught America's collective imaginations with the J.J. Abrams series about a group of plane crash survivors marooned on a mysterious island. The show, with its complicated mythology, time-jumping plot lines and characters that blurred the lines between hero and villain was at once the most fascinating and aggravating series, ever. And it's Season Six finale is still the cause of debate, 6 months after it aired.
I'll be back tomorrow with my Top Ten Horror Movies of the Decade.
The next time I post, it will 2011. Can you believe it? This year sure flew by, didn't it?
I, for one, am not really sorry to see 2010 go. Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of great moments in 2010. I made some wonderful new friends; got to directthreeshows; got my third tattoo and spent my birthday at an iconic amusement park with several dear friends. I saw a few really terrific movies and even more really bad ones. I watched some groundbreaking TV, was crushed (and eventually glad) to find that Sharktopus was more interesting to SyFy than Army of the Dead and got that much closer to completing a script I think is even better than Army of the Dead. My sister made a rare trip North; my parakeet finally learned that I'm not a threat (we even play a game with one of his toys, now); I finally realized how unfair it would be for me to get a boxer, even though I desperately want one and I had delightful year-end holiday experience (so far, anyway). I was part of my first YouTube video (and am about to instigate another*); I was lucky enough to spend my 8th year as a board member of the JTMF and managed to convince our founder to add The Trevor Project* as one of our beneficiaries with our recent production of It's a Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play.
Even with all the amazing and good things that happened this year, the terrible things seemed to have weighed more heavily. There was the Great Kitchen/Bathroom Disaster of January, followed soon after by the Great Health Scare of February. Then the most repulsive movie ever made was released and my faith in good Horror movies was reduced to ashes... May saw the end of TV's most intriguing drama in years; and the scandal that should have (but didn't) blow the lid on religious hypocrites. June gave us not only JTMF's Sordid Lives, but my pick for the Worst Movie of 2010. July may have given us the Double Rainbow and my amazing birthday celebration, but August extended the Summer of Suck, as far as movies were concerned. September saw me battling my continuing struggle with depression, though Top Girls helped me through a lot of that (not to mention the addition of several new friends). Then Fall suddenly came, slip-sliding into the Holiday Season without any warning at all, and Uncle Prospero found himself with his faith in humanity curiously renewed, as he seems to do every year.
Still, I want to know where my jetpack is; where my flying car is and what other lifeforms are living on Io. Is that really so much to ask in this, the start of the second decade of the 21st Century?
In all seriousness, I wish all of you the Happiest, Healthiest and Best of New Years. Be safe, sane and most of all, kind in the coming year. I hope your dreams come true (or at least closer to it) and that you find your bliss. I hope you know the kinds of friendships with which I have been blessed and that all of your endeavors end in nothing less than success. Thank you for reading. Thank you for commenting. Thank you for caring about what I have to say. I hope 2011 is better or all of us.
Merry Christmas, friends! I know there's a bit of geek in all of you, or none of you would read a damned thing I had to say. So this (originally intended to be) short post is for the geek in all of us.
My sweet, crazy sister apparently spent three months looking through every 'trading post' that Disney had set up for their Vinylmation Park line of figurines. Earlier this fall, she sent me an article about the Steampunk Mickey figurines and I responded by hinting very broadly (and several times) that Christmas was coming. Every time they went to the park (which is a lot - they have a timeshare on property) my sister and brother-in-law searched for one of them. Sis said that in some places when they asked about it, the 'Cast Members' looked at them like they had three heads. Finally, in an unlikely Trading Post the 'Cast Member' said "Yeah. Sure. You have to trade up for it." So the B-i-L went and bought a random figure to trade up for the striking and oddly sinister Steampunk Micky 3" Vinylmation Parkfigurine you see in the picture at the top of this post. And as an added bonus, she literally stumbled upon the T-shirt with a graphic of the very figure, itself. Double-plus Good!
Now, I have to be honest and tell you how conflicted I am about Disney some day, but you have to admit, these are an aging Film/Sci-Fi/Animation Geek's perfect gifts, sent by a self-professed Disney Dork (no that's not her blog, but I know she reads it). Santa bought some very excellent stuff (like the Tom-Tom with infinite map updates; a new pair of my favorite "comfortable" shoes and an exceptionally clever and useful tripod LED flashlight) and I really loved them all. Still, Sis also got the number three and four spots with my (shamefully) first personal copy of Evil Dead II on DVD and an astonishingly soft and luxurious faux-lambskin throw. I'm telling you, this thing is softer than a baby's cheek and cozier than a snuggle with a teddy bear. My presents to them were good but their presents to me were better. I love getting toys for Christmas and I hope all of you got at least one, yourselves!
Today is Boxing Day, but I didn't get any gloves this year... Sorry, lame pun attempt... I'm on a carb high followed by an Asti Spumante chaser...
Anyway, if this post comes off as bragging, it's bragging about my little sister who spent three months looking for a 3" piece of useless plastic because she knew it would geek me out and make me smile. Double-plus Double-Plus Good.
And there was (thank goodness) only one case of this last night (via):
Though I won't tell you who had it.
I have every intention of attempting to finish the first draft of the screenplay I've been working on for almost a year while I'm off from the day job this week and we're supposed to get some significant snow here in the Delaware Valley tomorrow into Monday, so it's a good time to sequester myself a bit and figure out the rest of Act II and the segue to Act III. If I don't post over the next few days, it means I'm toiling. If I do, it means I'm flying along, happy with every word I write... (as if).
Okay, so spill. What is/are your favorite present(s) this Christmas? Make me jealous so I stop thinking these exceptionally geeky gifts are complete "geek chic" and more than appropriate for a man old enough to have witnessed Nixon's resignation.
And now a private message to my sister - you may skip a paragraph ahead, if you like :
Love ya, Sis! Miss you lots! See you in April! Remember what kind of cake I want (and yes, it can be low-carb, as long as it's delicious). Simi-tata; bwooouussccchh; "Canons to the left of me!" and Owl Hootsey to you, Silly Girl. Never stop making me laugh and smile and I'll never stop making you. Oh, one more thing - "CAMILLE!!!!!!!!!!!"
Now to those of who did read the above paragraph: You're undoubtedly shaking your heads and completely agreeing that what you have suspected all along is true and that your dear old Uncle Prospero is completely bonkers (which I have never denied, btw). But I promise you all, Uncle P's sister will probably be convulsing in laughter when she gets back to her day job and finishes reading that paragraph. I could have gone on with at least several dozen more non-sequiters and nonsense words that have meaning to her and me only. Of course, when she reads the Revenge, she emails her responses directly to me. Let's all encourage her to reply here, instead. She can be pretty funny when she wants to be...
I hope you all had a Merry Christmas! Tell me what your favorite present(s) was/were and tell the little baker lady to speak up. I know she has a Gmail account, so it's not like she can't... (Think she's getting the hint?) By the way, she can even create a secret identity to reply and I'll know it's her, because she'll use the other Pee Wee quote (on Letterman) that has equal effect on both of us.
A very Merry Christmas to all of my readers. Thank you for stopping by now and again to indulge my take on film; theatre; music; politics; LGBT issues; life; assorted nonsense and of course, zombies. I wish you all the joys of the holiday season and many, many more.
My life may be far from perfect (really, whose is?) but I can only hope that all of you are having as much fun as I seem to to be and that you are surrounded by as many loving friends as I am blessed to be. I hope that Santa is wise and generous; your turkey (or ham) is moist and flavorful; your children are well-behaved; your brother-in-law doesn't drink too much and that you won't have to wait long in return lines on Sunday.
"At Christmas play and make good cheer, for Christmas comes but once a year." ~ Thomas Tusser More, soon. Brian
Added about 2 hours later, (via) some Christmas gratuity (or weirdness,depending on your POV):
Apparently, everything old is new again. OMG Blog has posted their list of the Top Ten Gayest Songs of 2010 (via). Among them is 'Somebody to Love Me," sung by Boy George and produced Mark Ronson (who I must assume is related LiLo's ex, DJ Samantha Ronson - please correct me if I'm wrong). The video features a young (and presumably female) Boy George look-alike, though I can't for the life of me figure out why a 25 year-ago androgynous pop-star's image is still relevant in the 21st Century. Especially given his recent prison stint and failure on Broadway. Bitchy? Maybe. Relevant? Hardly.
By signing the repeal of DADT into legislature this morning, President Obama took yet another step toward moving counter-culture into the mainstream. No longer are Americans shocked by images of effeminate men, masculine women and/or the androgynous in-betweens. Gay icon Cher has a transgendered son; America's most popular sitcom features a pair of gay dads; one the most critically admired films of the year features a lesbian relationship and the number one daytime talk show in America is hosted by a woman who is legally married to another woman.
Here's the thing: I personally cannot wait until the day when my "Gayest Thing" posts are no longer relevant. We are on the verge of the second decade of the 20th Millennium (according to the Julian calendar). We should have long ago gotten past this issue. Gay, straight, bi, transgendered should all be terms which have long fallen out of use, especially when music is concerned.
As an audiophile since I first discovered the power of music, I have long thought that music transcends race sex and class. If it makes you move, if it inspires you or if it relaxes you, then it shouldn't matter who wrote, sang or interpreted it. Like any art form (or maybe even more so), music is the one thing that should unite us. Why then, should we give music labels?
I suppose labels are somewhat important, so we can make distinctions between genres and types. Still... do we really need o classify 'gay' music? I, for one, look forward to the day when 'gay' is no longer a special classification, but simply an adjective applied without prejudice, used to describe people who are not in any way abnormal. Is that too much to ask?
I think I may have gotten a bit off topic, tonight. But that's what happens when I'm tired, cranky and ready for an upcoming vacation. Don't look for anything new or pertinent from Uncle P in the next few days. I'm off to celebrate the Holidays. As I've said before, I'm tired. Rant over...
I miss my mother's mother. "Grandmom Cookie" (so named because she always had a cookie jar of goodies for us)* was a barmaid. She was funny and salty and did everything she could to make my father crazy. She had Tuesdays off, and she would come over and take my mother and I out shopping, often buying my sister and I anything we wanted, which drove my father absolutely bonkers. One day, after a particularly generous trip, my father said "Jesus Christ! You'd buy those kids the world, if you could!" The next week my sister and I came home with globes. I never really wondered how I ended up with such a sarcastic sense of humor.
Cookie would come and spend the night on Christmas Eve and my sister and I would open her presents that night and presents from Santa on Christmas morning. One year, after a particularly prosperous season, we opened a few gifts from Cookie, only to find about a hundred more from her the next morning. the entire house was filled with presents. The living room; the hallways; the kitchen and even the bathroom were piled high with toys. I can still see my father, steam practically pouring out of ears, unable to say a word because it was her prerogative to spoil us rotten if she wanted to.
The first Christmas after Grandmom Cookie passed away (just a few moths earlier, in October) was rather sad. Mom, deciding we needed some cheering up, let us open one present on Christmas Eve. The following year, we opened all our presents on Christmas Eve. Neither my sister nor I believed in Santa any more, and it seemed a fitting way to honor Cookie's memory. The tradition has remained and we always open our presents on Christmas Eve, leaving Christmas Day as a day of leisure. We sleep in, I make an awesome brunch and we just relax for the rest of the day.
Of course, Grandmom's generosity has spilled over to me, and I often find myself buying too many gifts for those I love. That doesn't mean that I equate Christmas with tons of gifts or that I'm obsessed with 'things.' But I did learn how to shop for holiday gifts that have meaning to the folks about whom I care. And seeing their faces when they open those gifts gives me more joy than any present I might receive, could.
This year, I tried to restrain myself. A few of my dearest friends decided we should set limits on our spending, and I did my best to abide by their wishes, though went overboard as usual with everyone else. And while the money I spent this year was probably less than lest year, knowing I got gifts that will bring smiles to the faces of those I love is what matters to me.
So, what's the point of this post, you may well ask? I suppose it's only to remind you that giving is the best part of Christmas (whether or not you are a 'believer') and that having people in your life for whom you want to buy gifts is far more important than the gifts you receive from them.
I hope you have as many people you love in your life as I do. I always feel blessed for those in mine. Without them, I'd just be some opinionated jerk with Internet access...
More, anon.
Prospero
* That is almost the exact cookie jar Grandmom had, BTW
The image on the left is what the so-called 'Religious Right' would have you think about when you think about the repeal of DADT. Truly, this is what they want you to believe is going to happen when gay men and women are allowed to finally serve openly in the military. The Religious Right must watch a lot of gay porn.
When I think about gay soldiers; marines; sailors and airmen serving openly, I picture folks like Lt. Dan Choi; Major Mike Almy; Sgt. Darren Manzella; and Major Margaret Witt. All of them were discharged under "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." And every one of them was willing their lay their lives on the line for the country they love.
After promising to end the outright ban on gays and lesbians serving in the military, Bill Clinton came under fire from the conservative right and thought DADT was a workable compromise. Today, the former President regrets that decision. More servicemen and women have been discharged under DADT in its 17 year history, than under the outright ban, itself. And while most members of our military forces will admit to knowing a gay or lesbian comrade, they will also tell you that they don't care. And while a devout pacifist, I understand the need for effective protection against those who would try to destroy what America stands for.
"Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness." That applies to every American citizen: Black; White; Hispanic; Asian; Christian; Muslim; Buddhist; Taoist; Hindi; Shamanistic; gay; straight; bi-sexual; transgendered; asexual and anything else (within reason) one can think of. If you are willing to die for my right to those precepts, why should I (or anyone else) care who you sleep with? I shouldn't. And neither should anyone else.
Now that DADT has been repealed, I can only assume the "Religious Right' will take on same-sex marriage, stem-cell research and abortion. And I also assume that those of us who can think rationally will continue to expose those people for the liars they are. I recently commented on a friend's blog that while I was against publicly outing those people (celebrities, in particular) who choose to remain in the closet, I was all for outing religious leaders and politicians who decry homosexuality in the pulpit and on the dais, but practice it in their bedrooms. Liars and hypocrites should (and deserve) to be exposed for who they really are, especially when they spread their hate, fear and ignorance among those who trust and believe them.
The repeal of DADT is just the beginning of social justices for the LGBT community and I hope that it adds impetus to the so-called "Gay Agenda." LGBT rights are simply Human Rights, and anyone who thinks otherwise is not (and never will be) a friend of mine. It's been a while since I talked politics, but recent events and the Right's response has gotten me a bit worked up.
Okay. Another rant over. Go about your business. But watch (and listen) to people like Rachel Maddow and Anderson Cooper, Dan Savage and Michelangelo Signorelli. Fight the good fight against ignorance and intolerance. Let the liars know we aren't about to let them win.
I was going to do a "Forgotten Gems" post tonight but after my usual round of surfing, I came across a couple of other things I wanted to talk about, first.
Does anyone else remember 1979's Star Trek: The Motion Picture? That's Iranian model Persis Khambatta as Illia, a character who is killed and replicated by V-Ger in the movie. While essentially an expanded (and exceptionally boring) episode from the original series, the first 'Star Trek' movie posits that Voyager I went to the furthest depths of space where it essentially became a sentient being after encountering a silicon-based race of aliens. Because of space wear-and-tear (I guess), it called itself "V-Ger" and demanded to be reunited with its creator. Illia became V-Ger's avatar aboard the Enterprise and eventually she/it merged with Stephen Collins' ("No Ordinary Family") character in cinema's first intergalactic orgasm. Damn! Collins was sure pretty then, wasn't he?
So, what does that have to do with anything? Well, launched by NASA in 1977, Voyager I is now poised to become the first man-made object to actually leave the Milky Way. Discover Magazine is reporting that Voyager I, while no longer propelled by solar winds, is about to move into deep space, potentially fulfilling it's cinematically prophesied destiny. This story has restored my fascination with deep-space travel and everything we don't know about Life, the Universe and Everything (which I doubt actually adds up to 42, which non-nerds should look up).
Okay. On to other sort-of related movie news. Take a deep breath, boys (and str8 gals). The Sexiest Man Alive is single again! Salacious gossip site TMZ (via) is reporting that Ryan Reynolds and his wife of two years Scarlett Johansson, are divorcing. I, for one, would be more than happy to console the poor boy. Anyone care to join me in that effort? I mean after Alanis and Scarlett, surely he must be looking for something different, no?
And since we're (okay, I'm) already talking about movies, (also via) New York Magazine has posted this gallery of the best film performances of 2010 that will not be winning any awards. Surprisingly, I agree with most of their choices.
And finally, (via) comes the trailer for the Most Unnecessary Sequel Ever, Pirates of the Carribean: On Stranger Tides. Johnny Depp and Geoffrey Rush return, joined by "Deadwood" alum Ian McShane; Dame Judi Dench and the oh-so-creepy* Penelope Cruz in this fourth installment in Disney's ride-turned-into-a-movie. This time, directorial duties are taken up by Chicago director Rob Marshall. May God have mercy on them all. Though I will give it a shout out because it does it does feature zombies...
*I'm glad I'm not alone in my assessment of Cruz's creepiness, as my oldest friend Q thinks she's creepy, too. It's her mouth, I think. It looks like it was badly drawn by a child with a crayon or something. Of course, she's now married to Javier Bardem (and with child), so maybe her "creepy" quotient will decrease after she whelps... Ooh - that was kind of cruel, wasn't it? Still, she makes me throw up in my mouth a little, every time I see her. Maybe it's just me.
