The Most Egregious Thing You'll See This Week

I was a sophomore in High School when Annie made it's Broadway debut (look it up and do the math). The comic-strip on which the musical was based debuted in 1933 and was still in syndication when the musical first arrived on the Great White Way. It's ubiquitous anthem "Tomorrow" is one the late 20th Century's most recognizable songs and without it, we wouldn't have Sarah Jessica Parker.  The show has had two revivals, one in 1997 and another in 2012. It was made into a not terrible movie in 1982, starring a local gal with whom my mother shared 1 degree of separation, Aileen Quinn (Mom worked with Aileen's mother back in her Playground Monitor days). Carol Burnett and Tim Curry were the villains in director John Huston's fairly faithful version.

News of a new version slated to star Willa Smith arose about three years ago. Last year it was announced that Smith was out, replaced by Beasts of the Southern Wild Oscar-nominee Quvenzhané Wallis.All seemed well and good until we found out that Cameron Diaz (Bad Teacher) and Jaimie Foxx (Ray) were slated to play Miss Hannigan and the updated version of Daddy Warbucks, Benjamin Stacks (get it? -- ugh!). Okay. Fine. Maybe an update is in order. Urban orphans are certainly VERY different today from those of the Great Depression. I have no problem with making older works relevant to modern audiences. I've set both Much Ado About Nothing and Romeo and Juliet in the 20th Century. A timeless story is just that, right?

Wrong.

Look at this trailer for the 2014 Annie and tell me it doesn't make you want to pull your hair out by the roots.

UGH! It's everything I hate about the treacly original show, combined with every unoriginal thought put to paper by modern, corporate filmmakers. Directed by Will Gluck (best known for teen sex comedies like Easy A), this shameless POS is a perfect example of everything wrong with Hollywood and the U.S. film industry today. The trailer makes it clear that this movie will undoubtedly be the miserable flop that it is destined (and deserves) to be.

More, anon.

Prospero

PS - A special thanks to my friend Sally, who first shared that clip.

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What's That Spining Sound?

Miley as Hannah Montana

Despite the persistent rumors that he had himself crygonically frozen, I can assure you that Walt Disney was interred at Forest Lawn Cemetery in Glendale, California., along with dozens of other Hollywood legends.

And even though I said on Facebook that I wouldn't watch Miley Cyrus' performance at last night's VMA's, the great cry and hue about said performance pretty much left me feeling like I had to watch it and comment further. And so I did. Now comes the further commenting.

All day I've been wondering why I heard spinning sounds from the west. Having watched Cyrus' performance, it has become apparent that whatever remains of Mr. Disney is spinning fast and hard enough to be heard nearly 3000 miles away. The man who once asked Annette Funicello to keep her navel covered in her Beach Blanket movies must be vomiting ectoplasm all over the place.

As I am sure you must know by now, I am hardly a prude.I like sex as much as any other red-blooded American male. And it honestly takes a lot to offend me. Still... when America's Sweetheart turns herself into America's Slut, even Uncle P has to take notice. 

It's not that I am opposed to a young woman growing up and reinventing herself. Nor am I opposed to any young person's sexual awakening. Far from it. Go for it! I certainly wish that at 20 I had had the balls to be myself (though 20 for Uncle P was well into the last century - a very different time). Still, I don't think I would have been nearly as overtly sexual as the former Disney star was last night. If you haven't seen it (and I may be the last American to actually subject myself to it), here's the clip:

WTF?!?!

I don't blame parents who are upset that their children's idol gave such an exploitative performance. I don't even blame Robin Thicke (though he was obviously complicit) for his part in Cyrus' lascivious performance. Cyrus is legally an adult and can do whatever she likes, as long as it's legal and doesn't harm anyone else. Still, I have to wonder how all those tweens and teens who watched Cyrus' wholesome Disney show and expected an equally wholesome performance from their idol (not to mention their parents' reactions) reacted to her rather lascivious performance. Were I a parent of a 12 to 15 year old girl, I imagine I'd be rather incensed, myself.

Here's the thing: Your television's remote (or when I was a kid, dial) has a button that allows you to change the channel if you see something you don't like or don't want your children to see. If you didn't change the channel last night, you have no right to complain about what was aired. If you let your children watch that mess, you have no right to complain about its overtly sexual images. If you let your children play violent video games, you have no right to complain when they act violently in their social play. And if you take your 8 year old to see an "R" rated horror movie, you have no right to complain when said 8 year old wakes you up because he or she had a nightmare.

Change the channel. Hire a sitter. Don't buy 'Street Murdering Pimps' for X-Box. Don't complain when you allow your children to be exposed to things which you find offensive.

Get over it, already.

More, anon.

Prospero

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Sterotype Schmereotype

Seriously?

Word is, people started lining up in front of the Supreme Court Building Thursday evening in order to attend the arguments in both the DOMA and Prop 8 cases, next Tuesday and Wednesday. If I could afford to spend 6 nights camped out in unseasonably cold weather, it would be on vacation with a hot, fuzzy companion to help keep me warm while Aurora Borealis shone above our heated tent.

But seriously, the next week may well prove the turning point for Marriage Equality on a national level. It's truly conceivable that the United States may actually progress into the 21st Century and join the planet's other progressive Democracies and acknowledge that not only is sexuality innate, but that Civil Rights belong to everyone. 

There are of course, many in the U.S. who (because of fear, ignorance and superstitions passed down from their parents and clergy) believe that LGBTQ people are perverted, evil sinners who flaunt their sins and try to entice intrinsically straight people (especially children) into homosexuality. These folks (probably gay, themselves) use extreme examples to perpetrate the lies they espouse. Sure, hot guys in leather ride floats in Pride parades. But hot girls with big breasts serve wings in tight T-shirts and cut-offs at Hooters, too. 

But I digress. Long-time readers know of my disdain for so-called 'Reality TV.' Manipulative; sordid; soul-sucking drek, shows like "The Bachelor;" "Survivor;" "The Apprentice;" "The Jersey Shore" and their ilk, pander to the lowest common denominator and insult all of our intelligences by their very existence. Tabloid TV seems to have taken over, making TV programming far worse than it ever was.* Unfortunately, Canadian cable channel Slice ("... the juicy channel women have been waiting for.") has lowered the bar yet another notch with their newest 'Reality' show, "Golden Gays."

Yes, this is the image we want to project to the rest of the world. Woo-hoo! We survived the plague! Yeah! We wanna get it on! Wee-haa! Viagra! This kind of crap is exactly why the Rednecks, religious radicals and Repugnicans hate us. Now, I'm not saying you shouldn't let your freak flag fly. By all means. I have no business telling anyone what to do, say, watch or participate in. I'm just saying that the sore thumb may get the most attention, but the other nine fingers end up doing all the work.

Yes, I know - this whole post comes off as an internal homophobic rant, but I swear it's really about the intentionally exaggerated circumstances created by the producers of these exceptionally horrid shows. And while I will happily admit to watching the Food Network's "Restaurant Impossible;" "Dinner Impossible" and "Chopped," those are more about my love of food than the sort of Schadenfreude in which most 'Reality' shows seem to revel.

More, anon.

Prospero

*Thankfully, scripted television has recently upped the ante with cable shows like "The Walking Dead;" "Breaking Bad;" "Dexter;" "Mad Men" and a few others.

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Redefining "Train Wreck"

LiLo as Elizabeth Taylor

I don't honestly don't understand the fascination with the downward spiral that is Lindsay Lohan's career. The Disney princess who fell from grace, Lohan showed promise as an adorable moppet in the remake of The Parent Trap and actual talent in Tina Fey's Mean Girls. Then, something awful happened. 

The product of two completely dysfunctional parents and a group of toadying sycophants who don't know how to say "No," Lohan has been reduced to a sad pop culture joke, which even she doesn't get.

Multiple arrests for drug and alcohol offenses; several traffic accidents; a failed lesbian relationship; a shoplifting scandal; a very public fight with her mother; a father who behaves like a child and her most recent arrest for a brawl in a New York nightclub are all signs of someone in desperate need of an intervention.

This past Sunday, Lifetime aired Liz and Dick, starring Lohan as the iconic Elizabeth Taylor. Universally panned and reduced to a drinking game, the TV movie may well be the nadir of Lohan's film career (though I Know Who Killed Me comes in at a close second). Not that anyone really expected a Lifetime movie to be good... 

Of course, Lindsay has yet another film on the horizon, The Canyons. Written by hack novelist Bret Easton Ellis; directed by Paul Schrader (Cat People) and co-starring porn star James Deen, The Canyons is supposedly a thriller set among life in modern L.A. The trailers have been nothing short of ridiculous, much like Lohan's life of late.

It seems to me, what Lohan really needs is someone to hold her hand and guide her away from all the negative influences in her life, including her ne'er-do-well parents. Fame is as dangerous and addictive a drug as meth or heroine and despite the many slaps in the face Lohan has had of late, I must admit that I won't be surprised when her premature death is announced in the next few months. What a sad waste of a life which showed so much early promise. A truly beautiful young woman with so much potential shouldn't end up as a comical footnote in Hollywood history.

More, anon.
Prospero

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The Worst Music Videos You'll See This Week

Lexy and Stephany

If nothing else, Uncle P tries to be entertaining. Sometimes that means gorgeous, smart and inspiring. Other times it means hideous, stupid and just plain awful. From the reviews I've read, the Lindsay Lohan as Elizabeth Taylor Lifetime Movie "Liz and Dick"* falls into the latter category. As do the videos I have posted below.

The lunatics at BoingBoing pointed me to the "Teen Sensation" duo of Lexy and Stephany, who have apparently been causing some sort of commotion on their YouTube channel. Longtime readers know that Prospero is a bit of a music aficionado and I love introducing people to new and interesting singers and musicians. They also know that I love to point out all sorts of terrible things, so my readers might avoid and/or seek them out. Make no bones about it, Lexy and Stephanie are terrible! And by terrible, I mean bottom of the barrel. I'd rather listen to Rebecca Black's "Friday" for a year than hear anything by these two. If given a choice by gunpoint, I'd rather see a Coldplay concert than Lexy and Stephanie. In fact, if given a choice, I'd rather swim in a pool full of snakes, scorpions and spiders...

See and hear for yourselves:

And then there is this:

Are your ears and eyes bleeding, yet? 

Mob mentalities and Black Friday riots at Walmart aside, I think I'd rather get punched in the face than listen to another song by Lexy and Stephany. How did this happen, people? How have two  untalented, prepubescent, braces-clad teens with rich Daddies infiltrated modern pop culture? One can only hope that their fifteen minutes will be mercifully short. And yes -- I can be a bitch, sometimes. But only when warranted.

*Full disclosure: John Elliot is a friend and I have no problem linking to his hilarious review.

More, anon.

Prospero

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Turkey Thursday on Saturday: Shark Bait

Seriously?

I can't believe that Thanksgiving is this coming Thursday and I've only done one Turkey of the Week post. I'm blaming Sandy, which screwed things up for so many of us in the Central Atlantic states these past few weeks. Thankfully, Uncle P received an unexpectedly expedient (say that 3 times, fast) check from my homeowner's insurance and I was able to start restocking my empty fridge and freezers today with the largest grocery order I've purchased in a very long time. I know there are folks within driving distance who don't even have a fridge to fill, so I am exceptionally grateful that I do. I urge you to continue to provide support to the American Red Cross and other local charities who are helping those most in need. Food, baby formula and warm clothing are still desperately needed by thousands affected by the storm.

Now I'll hope you'll allow me a moment or two of levity. Last night, Uncle P posted about my personal Top Ten Spielberg films, among them: Jaws. Universal made three sequels to Jaws, none of which included Spielberg and each of which is more ridiculous than the one before. Jaws II was okay at best, while Jaws 3D was just plain silly, despite the presence of the hotness known as Dennis Quaid as the adult Micheal Brody. Most egregious of all, 1987's Jaws: The Revenge delves very deep into the waters of ridiculousness, appearing on more "Worst Movie Ever Made" lists than anything directed by Ed Wood, Jr.

Convinced that her husband's fatal heart-attack was prompted by his fear of sharks, Ellen Brody (Lorraine Gary) knows that the shark which quickly kills her son Sean has a personal vendetta against her family and flies Micheal (now played by the decidedly less-hot Lance Guest) and his family to the Bahamas in an attempt to escape it (though why she doesn't go somewhere land-locked like Kansas, remains a mystery). Pilot 'Hoagie' ( Oscar winner Michael Caine) and his pal Jake (Mario Van Peebles) also happen to be marine biologists (?) who decide to track the shark (which has apparently followed Ellen from NY to the Bahamas) with a device that monitors its heartbeat. Ellen has flashbacks to events she didn't witness, while experiencing some sort of psychic connection to the shark that wants to eat her family because her husband killed it's brother or father or something. Eventually, Ellen decides to sacrifice herself to the shark to save Michael and his family, but Hoagie and Jake save her by impaling the Great White on the prow of the their boat, after driving it crazy with electrical impulses from the device they attached to its heart. What? Yes. That's really what happens in this epic PoS sequel to one of the best movies ever made. Most of those involved in the making of Jaws: The Revenge disavow it as the garbage it is. In full disclosure, Gary was married to the head of Universal at the time. I hope she has divorced him, since.

Here's what the late Gene Siskel and the now-silent Roger Ebert had to say about the movie upon its release:

More, anon.
Prospero

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Never Make Plans for Money

A 2006 Hyundai Santa Fe VERY Much Like Mine

I got a pretty decent refund from the IRS this year and had planned to do so much with it. I was going to pay down some credit card debt, buy some new clothes and maybe even take a trip into NYC to see a show on Broadway.

I own a 2006 Hyundai Santa Fe. It's really good on gas; has room for my friends and the many props, costumes and set pieces I transport; is fairly attractive and very comfortable, especially for a big gay bear like Uncle P. Since I bought it, I've only had to replace windshield wipers and tires. Until this weekend, that is. 

Sunday morning, as I attempted to venture to a local convenience store for some breakfast food, 'Mean Josephine Green' didn't want to start. And after she finally did, it felt like she wanted to stall and it was all I could do to make it around the block and back to my house before she actually stalled out completely.

With Monday being a holiday, it wasn't until yesterday morning that I was able to have her towed to the shop. And today I got the bad news... a cable integral to Jo's electrical system had gone bad and required replacement. Of course, said cable is not part of the car's power train and therefor not covered by her 10-year warranty. The total cost of the repair came to more than half of my tax refund. I'll be picking Jo up in the morning and plunking down the money, because I need her to be functional, but I'll be damned if I'm happy about it. It seems like every time I think I might get just a little bit ahead, something comes along to say "F*ck you, Uncle P! Hahahahahaha!"

The point is, don't make plans for money you don't have yet. You never know when the gods are going to melt those wax wings and send you plummeting back down to Earth.

More, anon.
Prospero

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The Lamest Thing You'll See This Week

Mia Sara, Matthew Broderick and Alan Ruck

I am by no means a John Hughes fan. Yes, I know his films defined the youths of many Americans who were teens in the '80's. But I was already in college in the 80's and found most of his movies to be just annoying. Of course, Sixteen Candles and Home Alone have their charms. And even Trains, Planes & Automobiles has its moments. Personally, I hate The Breakfast Club (so sue me) and actively despise Uncle Buck. But there's something about Ferris Beuller's Day Off that makes me forgive Hughes for his other crappy movies. 

The thing I love most about it is young Matthew Broderick's self-assured performance as the title character, elaborately faking a sick day in order to spend a day playing in the big city with his friends while making fools of all of the adults he encounters. And I love how the performances from Alan Ruck (then already in his 30's); Mia Sara; Jeffrey Jones; Jennifer Grey and Edie McClurg all just add to the fun. And Hughes makes my beloved Chicago have even more appeal than it does in The Blues Brothers.

Ferris... is probably Hughes' best film and certainly the movie that made a star out of Broderick. Add appearances from Charlie Sheen, Kristy Swanson and Ben Stein and you have what may well be the quintessential 80's teen comedy. 

When a 10 second teaser featuring Broderick in a robe and a snippet of Yello's iconic "Oh, Yeah" made its way onto the 'net a few days ago, folks were going crazy over the possibility of a Ferris Beuller sequel. Needless to say, many folks' hearts were broken when they discovered it was just a clip from a Honda Superbowl commercial which featured Broderick parodying his career-defining role. And even worse, the actual (terrible) commercial was released today, sending waves of shock and resentment among the film's many fans. 

See for yourselves:

Ugh! A lame, unfunny sellout, which only goes to prove that most so-called "stars" are only interested in making a buck. Broderick may have found additional fame on Broadway in shows like How to Succeed in Business... and The Producers, but this commercial for a generic soccer-mom SUV does nothing to for him or his career. And that's a shame. He already has to live with SJP. Isn't that punishment enough?

More, anon.
Prospero

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