comedy

Vag Magazine

mandy — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 10:00:00 +0000

I didn’t think it was even figuratively possible to shoot yourself in the foot while disappearing up your own behind, but the characters in Vag Magazine have proven otherwise. This eerily well-observed sketch show from the women of the Upright Citizens Brigade is watchable and rewatchable by third wave feminists and those who love them—or who love to laugh at them—especially since every episode is available on the web.

The six-episode, internet-based series of shorts shows what happens when a trendy, glossy women's magazine is taken over by a group of hardcore third wave feminists who revamp it by firing all but one staff person then change its name to Vag Magazine. The newly minted mag is a hipster-heavy haven of hypocritical hilarity that describes itself as such: "Not your grandma's feminist magazine, though we support her as a woman."

I have to admit that, as the editor of a comedic zine about menstruation, I was terrified Vag Magazine would have me crying instead of cracking up. And I'm relieved to report that the show is really very funny. The humor is devised from improvisation at its finest. The overall concept covered all my pet peeves about feminism, an ideology to which I subscribe, despite the kind of annoying behaviour on display in Vag Magazine. I offer the following dialogue as evidence.

Hierarchical Hypocrisy: "We don’t believe in hierarchies, but we also don’t have time to get our own coffee."

Capitalist Conundrum: "I feel like the idea of advertisers is really un-feminist." Swiftly followed by, "It's just that we need advertising dollars if we’re gonna be able to tell women what to do."

The biting observations are dead-on, down to the last detail: roller derby, cloth maxipads, ironic bunting. The writers leave no handmade, vegan, Zapatista-solidarity stone unturned. You’ve gotta be in that scene, or very near to it, to be able to poke so much fun in such glorious detail, and to my satisfied delight.

How did these awesome comedians have time to spy on self-righteous feminists and put together an outstanding sketch comedy show? Perhaps a future season of Vag Magazine will tell us.

Written by: Chella Quint, April 16th 2011

It’s Kind of a Funny Story

mandy — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Ryan Fleck, Anna Boden

Focus Features

It’s not very often that people take the time to explore the mind of a teenager and it’s even less frequent that this exploration takes place on the Silver Screen. In the current cultural climate, teenagers are nearly an endangered species; 1.6 million are homeless, and those fortunate enough to have a roof over their heads face daily struggles with bullying, body image, sexual predators, and the intense stress of a failing educational system. Even, or maybe especially, those of privilege, who come from stable homes and elite educational institutions are crippled by an overwhelming expectation to succeed.

In It's Kind of a Funny Story Craig (Keir Gilchrist) is one of the latter: a white, upper class, sixteen-year-old whose anxiety level is so unbearable that he checks himself into a psychiatric ward out of fear that he may commit suicide. Merely moments after being committed, Craig is faced with the reality of his decision—a schizophrenic wanders the halls shouting, his roommate hasn’t left his bed for weeks, and hospital policy requires Craig stay for a minimum of five days. Except for the presence another young patient, Noelle (played by the charming Emma Roberts), Craig is certain he doesn’t belong there. Yet, over the course of a school week, Craig receives an alternate education in life, love, and self-discovery. And believe it or not, it is kind of a funny story.

Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, who co-wrote and co-directed the film, have an exceptional ability for constructing emotionally vibrant stories that focus on what are often perceived to be deviant relationships. In 2006’s award-winning Half Nelson, the duo chronicled the cathartic friendship between a meth-addicted middle school teacher and his adolescent student. It's Kind of a Funny Story also utilizes this dynamic to further explore the invisible barrier between youth and adults when Craig befriends Bobby (Zack Galifianakis), a fellow patient more than twice his age. And just as Half Nelson created a space for the unheard voices of addicts and an inner city youth, It's Kind of a Funny Story breaks the silence of another pair of marginalized groups: teenagers and the mentally ill.

Gilchrist is effectively genuine in portraying Craig’s awareness of his inner turmoil while lacking the ability to articulate it. Instead of weighing down the script with gratuitous dialogue, the film’s journey into Craig’s mind through the use of flashback, animation, and one kick-ass rock 'n roll fantasy provides a subtle testament to arts education. Though his role in The Hangover has practically guaranteed Galifianakis a career as the peculiar yet hilarious sidekick, It's Kind of a Funny Story offers the North Carolina School of the Arts alum an opportunity to transcend typecasting and delve into a more nuanced and dimensional character. Galifianakis nails it. Without saying a word, he has the ability to be both hilarious and touching while offering Craig a chance to do what he was unable to on the outside: just live. Free from confines of parental expectations and a highly competitive peer group, Craig liberates not only himself, but those around him.

Ultimately, the lesson in this film is one of perspective. It's Kind of a Funny Story is a heartfelt reminder that even flawed adults can be role models and the minds of the youth are worth inhabiting.

Written by: Alicia Sowisdral, October 15th 2010

We Have To Stop Now

barbara — Sun, 10 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Directed by Robyn Dettman

Dynakit Productions

We Have To Stop Now is freakin’ hilarious, excruciating, and perfect. You have to watch it. Convention dictates that I now tell you why.

It all started in 1994 when I watched the Out There Comedy Special on Comedy Central while I was in college. Suzanne Westenhoefer had a ten minute stand up set on that one-off queer comedy show, and I was hooked. So when I saw her name on this blog’s list of review items, followed by the words “lesbian” and “comedy tv series,” I requested that I be the one to review it. I was Lady Request, the Grand Duchess of Request Land, in the country of Requestshire. It soon arrived in the mail and I decided to watch it in bed one Saturday morning with my lovely wife Sarah. She asked, “What’s it about?” and I didn’t know. I told her about seeing “Suzanne Westenhoefer” and “lesbian comedy tv series” and the requesting, and said that was as far as I’d gotten. So I grabbed the leaflet that came with the DVD, and realised it was about a lesbian couple who are both psychotherapists, who are splitting up in couples therapy after a very long relationship, with the added complication that they’ve just written a bestselling relationship manual together. Delightful breakfast viewing, I assured her, and pressed play.

Despite the excruciating premise, this show is hysterical. Cathy DeBuono, who’s new to us but whom we gather is very well known to our fellow lesbians across the Atlantic (particularly for a couple of films she’s produced and starred in that are getting rave reviews, that we also now plan to check out), commands the small screen with some serious intensity. Jill Bennett plays her highly-strung and emotionally hyper-literate partner with the comic foil stylings needed to balance things out. The couple could be any couple, queer or not, therapists or not. Their quirks, foibles, habits, and anxieties were heightened enough to reassure us we had nothing to worry about, but had that grain of truth that made us recognise ourselves and the kinds of things we argue about as well. Suzanne Westenhoefer plays their wonderfully incredulous therapist. During their sessions, her facial expressions alone should have had her running to supervision—the acting in the silences is some of the best I’ve seen on screen from all three main performers (on a par with hit British series The Royle Family—our gift to you). The fourth character is a mooching stoner sister-in-law of doom who never shuts up, so I can’t assess Ann Noble’s ability in this area. But I can certainly vouch for her writing skills—she wrote the whole thing and it’s absolutely brilliant.

There’s a lot of stuff going on, despite the series being so brief (only six episodes in season one). There are many surreal tangents, creative stretchings of coincidence and reality (there ought to be be an entropy meter in the corner of the screen) and a real life deus ex machina or two.

I’m a pay-per-view web series virgin, but, like my early forays into sexuality, I’m curious enough to try it. Twenty-four dollars sounds like a lot for the privilege of watching one show (although the second series has sixteen episodes), but it’s cheaper than a monthly cable subscription, so you might want to consider it. If you’d rather delay your gratification, you can buy each season on DVD after it’s finished airing.

You should definitely do one or the other though, or you’re missing out. It’s beautifully produced, very funny, scathingly well written and observed, and I highly recommend it.

Written by: Chella Quint, October 9th 2010

Cho Dependent Tour (9/23/2010)

mandy — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Margaret Cho

Anaheim, California

Margaret Cho's hour-long set at The Grove began with a story about her recent experiences as a contestant on Dancing with the Stars that parlayed into a story about using a vocal coach from American Idol while touring in support of her newly released album Cho Dependent. Apparently her vocal coach made her drink shots of olive oil when she developed a sore throat, and as a result, Cho suffered from uncontrollable flatulence and diarrhea. This was a reoccurring theme of the night (I actually wasn’t aware Cho had such a penchant for poop jokes), and while I spent half of Cho’s act loving her intensely and laughing out loud, the other half I found myself wondering if she’d lost her edge.

Shitty stories aside, I’m convinced that Cho and I have the potential to be best friends. During her set I learned that we have many of the same concerns (like who will fuck us when we’re old) and interests (e.g., gay men and the American south). I’m considering a move to the south, in fact, but one of my biggest concerns is the lack of multicultural and LGBT communities, two things that are vital to my happiness here in Los Angeles. Cho touched on the south many times, as her Lifetime show Drop Dead Diva is filmed in a small suburb of Atlanta where Cho now spends a great deal of her time. Besides picking up a southern boyfriend with a massive dick (her words, not mine), she’s made a few gay friends as well.

Cho revealed that while living in Georgia she’s encountered many people who feel the need to share their opinions about homosexuality with her, a majority claiming it’s in opposition to their religious beliefs. She says her standard response to this and other statements made by close-minded folks has become, “Well, fuck you then.” I mean, really, when no amount of philosophizing or arguing will get through, what else are you able to say?

Sexuality is always a major part of Cho's performances, and as always, I applaud her candor. At the Anaheim show she expressed her love of the now-defunct Craigslist casual encounters ads, and joked about her many sexual conquests, her desire to be fucking well into her seventies, and her recent attempts at having a baby with a drag queen sperm donor. (Maybe that last one wasn't a joke?)

While listening to Cho, a woman who seemed so badass and ballsy when I was younger, I realized that the forty-one-year-old comedian may very well be less edgy. Although she may be more apt to discuss topics pertinent to her changing lifestyle, her mainstream success, and her audience’s changing demographics, Cho's biting social commentary, brazen sexuality, and championing of the LGBT community will always be enough to keep me coming back for more.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, October 6th 2010

Easy A

mandy — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 16:00:00 +0000

Directed by Will Gluck

Screen Gems

Remember when Superbad was released and everyone was freaking out about what a great teen film it was? Did you wonder why the story didn't include the ways girls break the rules in high school? I did. But the film did have a minor yet interesting female role, Jules, who was made memorable by the candid humor of newcomer Emma Stone. In Easy A, Stone effortlessly tackles her first starring role, and presents a realistic story of teenage identity, friendship, and the challenges of self-discovery.

Olive is a smart and funny, albeit socially invisible, high school student. After being badgered for details about her weekend by her potty-mouthed best friend, Olive lies about losing her virginity to an imaginary guy. One lie leads to another and soon Olive is supposedly sleeping with half the school—mostly misfits and outcasts excluded for being gay, fat, or anything else that doesn’t align with the heteronormative high school experience. Emboldened by her reputation, Olive embraces martyrdom and actively plays into the role she’s inherited. She hypersexualizes her wardrobe and stitches a scarlet letter “A” to her chest. However, while the reputations of the fellas she claims to have provided favors to blossom from the fruits of imaginary intercourse, Olive’s life becomes more complicated and lonely.

Eschewing just enough raunch to earn a PG-13 rating, first-time screenwriter Burt V. Royal’s script subtly navigates the tenuous relationship between reputation and reality, while attempting to leave its protagonist with agency. One brief yet poignant scene calls into question teen dating violence, male privilege, and the commodification of the female body. The painful relevance of these moments is cushioned by the accessibility of the dialogue and Stone’s fearless goofiness.

Director Will Gluck could have easily relied on his leading lady’s searing wit and deadpan delivery to carry the film; instead, he enabled Stone's performance with a dynamic supporting cast of positive, if flawed, role models. As Olive’s trusting yet concerned parents, Patricia Clarkson and Stanley Tucci offer consistent comic relief, and Thomas Hayden Church and Lisa Kudrow make welcome returns to the big screen as faculty members battling their own deviant behavior.

Stone is also equally matched by her peers. Amanda Bynes’ ironically pious villain is a refreshing turn away from the predictable good girls of her past, and Gossip Girl’s Penn Badgley is an adorable reminder of the exciting innocence of first love.

The bottom line is you either like teen movies or you don’t. If you’re like me, or my friend Sabrina who sat next to me squealing every time John Hughes was referenced, you grew up with the teen classics of the eighties and spent your twenties believing that quirky outcasts, like Pretty in Pink’s Andie, transcend high school politics, and Mr. Right is a unique hybrid of Lloyd Dobbler, John Bender, and Happy Harry Hard-On. With Olive, Gluck and Royal have given a new generation of female viewers a different kind of teen fantasy: the girl they want to become instead of the boy they want to date. This makes Easy A a teen film representative of its time.

Written by: Alicia Sowisdral, September 23rd 2010

Cho Dependent

mandy — Sat, 11 Sep 2010 10:00:00 +0000

By Margaret Cho

Clownery Records

To call comedienne Margaret Cho’s latest endeavor, Cho Dependent, a comedy album seems like a disservice. Though songs like “Calling in Stoned” (featuring the ever-stoned Tommy Chong), “Your Dick,” and “Eat Shit and Die” do little for my argument, Cho Dependent is completely unlike her six previous comedy albums. This, my friends, is Cho’s foray into the music world, and a damn fine one at that.

I accidentally began following Cho’s career thanks to the short-lived television series All American Girl. I didn’t have cable television until I was twenty-three, so I would watch just about anything on the “regular” channels. From what I recall All American Girl wasn’t spectacular by any means, but I knew it was unprecedented for a television show’s focus to be on a Korean family. By the time high school rolled around, I spent weekends lying in bed with a friend watching VHS tapes of Cho’s standup. I ultimately fell in love with her wit, her hilarious take on sex and race, and her devotion to issues surrounding the LGBTQ community.

Cho’s wonderfully offbeat humor is present in nearly every song on Cho Dependent, and an impressive collection of musicians are along for the ride. The album is a mishmash of the alt-country and pop sensibilities of such talent as Ani DiFranco, Ben Lee, Brendan Benson, Jon Brion, and Grant Lee Phillips who providing the backbone for many of Cho’s songs. On opening track “Intervention,” featuring Tegan and Sarah, Cho admits to an obsession with the television series from which the song’s name is derived. Much like the show, “Intervention” features a nervous Tegan unsuccessfully reading a heartfelt letter to a drunken Cho who barfs on Tegan’s jack-o-lantern. The sisters then break into a chorus of “No more hugs ‘til you give up drugs. I know it sucks, but for once think about us.” I had no idea Cho has such a lovely, lilting voice, nor was I aware of her knack for songwriting.

Amid the dick jokes and songs about vaginas is the standout track “Hey Big Dog,” co-written by the amazing Patty Griffin. According to Cho, the song is about conversations she’d like to have with her (now deceased) dog Ralph, if only Ralph could speak. Cho imagines telling Ralph (played by Fiona Apple) there’s no reason to be afraid of the wind—as he was his entire life—and Ralph would respond that Cho should stop waiting for a certain man to call because he probably isn’t going to and the guy was no good anyway. As I write this I’ve become aware that this is a silly concept for a song, and I’m embarrassed to say the sincerity and soulfulness of the song made me cry: “Hey big mama, why you let that man come around? I don’t like the way he looks. I don’t like the way he sounds. I didn’t tell you, but he stepped on my tail. And he smells just like he’s fresh out of jail.”

A lot has changed for Cho since I spent lazy weekends watching those hazy VHS tapes. She’s become a gay icon, a burlesque star, a clothing designer, and an author. Most importantly, she’s comfortable in her own skin, a large part of which is now covered by tattoos, which is no small feat for a woman who once starved herself to the point of suffering from kidney failure and descended into a drug- and booze-fueled downward spiral. In other words, Cho has lived through a lot of rock star clichés, only now she has created an album to respond to the bad behavior.

If you were expecting a conventional comedy album, Cho Dependent will not deliver. But if you’re interested in seeing a slightly sweeter side to one of the ballsiest female comedians to ever grace the stage, this album will not disappoint.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, September 11th 2010

The Owls

admin — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Cheryl Dunye

Parliament Film Collective

The anticipation for Cheryl Dunye’s latest feature, an experimental narrative entitled The Owls (Older Wiser Lesbian) was high as information about the project has been accessible for some time. The filmmaker and actors belong to the Parliament Film Collective, a matrix of lesbian and new queer cinema creativity. The film cost $22,000 to make, and seems to fit in with the challenge made by Maya Deren to make good affordable films. (She said her films cost what Hollywood spends on lipstick.)

The Owls should turn queer cinema in a new direction, away from big budgets and narrative construction with rising falling action and resolution, following the old Hollywood premise. It's not about coming of age stories of lesbians or coming out or first romance. It’s a more authentic look at lesbian and queer lives with an authentic form to match. The short film category is pretty much saturated by lesbian filmmakers because of budgetary constraints, and even the documentary format with lots and lots of donors and sponsors. This film, too, had donors and sponsors, but was made collectively, and that is the difference.

The Owls is an odyssey about lesbian/queer personal politics and features actors that continue to put lesbian filmmaking on the map. With a smart script by Sarah Schulman, the premise of the film concerns four middle aged dykes whose lives didn’t turn out really they way they wanted, and who cover up the accidental murder of a provocative baby dyke. The initial moments of the film blast footage of the riot grrrl band The Screech with captivating music set to feminist political lyrics and jarring imagery to boot. With this the veteran director pulls you in from the first seconds.

The film seeks to unite today’s nuanced lesbian-queer-butch-transman movement with no labels, but enough signposts that reveal a collective language known to the audience it primarily caters to. The rich iconography of images, in your face closeups with gut wrenching confession, and split screen anecdotes interspersed with clever dialogue makes this an exciting film. The fragmented narrative and cinema vérité encounters with the actors, and the collective nature of the venture cooks up a fresh kind off story telling.

Cross-posted from Movie Magazine International

Written by: Moira Sullivan, September 4th 2010

The Other Guys

admin — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 13:22:00 +0000

Directed by Adam McKay

Columbia Pictures

Adam McKay is one of a million: a writer and director who can put together a great trailer. Too bad the feature presentation of The Other Guys is so long and boring that it chokes on its own machismo.

The underwhelming tragedy of The Other Guys is that Saturday Night Live veteran McKay is the same fellow behind the hilarious Funny or Die short The Landlord and Anchorman. Then again, he’s also the guy behind other Will Ferrell flops like Talladega Nights and Step Brothers. Clearly, the McKay and Ferrell duo is destined to be hit-or-miss.

The Other Guys starts off promising. Two over-the-top cop heroes (Dwayne Johnson and Samuel L. Jackson) barrel through New York City chasing teenagers who are in possession of a negligible amount of marijuana. They destroy millions of dollars of property and endanger dozens of lives, but they do it to the soundtrack of their own gunfire and acerbic quips. These two men get the glory—and of course, the trophy sex-with-women that goes along with it. The other dozen New York Police Department detectives—they get the paperwork.

This film is the story of two NYPD “other guys.” Desk-ridden detective partners Terry Hoitz (Mark Wahlberg) and Allen Gamble (Ferrell) don’t get out from behind their computers much, because one accidentally shot someone and the other craves safety. These two uncover a fishy financial deal, but for reasons completely unexplained (there’s no corruption involved) the police chief and district attorney thwart Hoitz and Gamble’s every move to investigate.

What follows is 107 minutes that will seem like an eternity of you’re-like-a-woman-and-that’s-bad jokes. Because, you see, there are apparently no women in this film’s NYPD (aside from a counselor), and the men basically only insult each other about being effeminate. What defines ladylike in The Other Guys? The way one’s urine sounds hitting a urinal, talking about shooting someone without bragging, and driving a Prius (bonus points for equating environmentalism with emasculation). And what defines manhood? Learning to dance just to make fun of homos, lamenting the fact that your son is bisexual or saying the word bitch ad nauseam. And the thing is, you don’t particularly care if Gamble and Hoitz catch the bad guy (Steve Coogan), because Gamble is an accountant at heart, and Hoitz is just an unrelenting asshole. The bad guy is much more entertaining.

But even if you were following the plot, the barrage of woman-hating language and themes in this film is hugely distracting, although frankly there’s not much to distract from. Aside from the language, there’s the classic (and somehow never not endearing in the world of film) side plot about a girlfriend who went from restraining order to marriage vows in about fifteen minutes since, really, stalking is flattering in romantic courtship.

And then there’s the whole Gamble’s ugly wife jokes. The twist here is that his wife (Eva Mendes) is objectively hot, if you’re into the whole American-beauty-standards ideal. Ferrell’s character spends the whole film lamenting, to her and to others, that she’s an ugly duckling and sucks at cooking. The ways he seems dissatisfied are the things that are traditionally valued in women—beauty and domestic aptitude. Hoitz and the audience wonder throughout the film: What’s the reason for Gamble’s odd point of view? Well, Gamble later confesses that he doesn’t feel he deserves such a wonderful, beautiful wife so he understates her attributes (to say the least) to keep her from leaving him. How sweet, and how unlike real-life domestic violence.

Hands down, the best part of this dud is the credits, which graphically show how a Ponzi scheme works. (I guess all of a sudden this film considers itself to mostly be about finance?) These credits will cool you down from being pissed that you heard the best jokes a month ago when you saw the trailer before Inception. You’ll realize while watching the credits that the inexplicable narration voice you were trying to place is Law & Order’s Ice-T. You’ll also realize you should have lobbied harder to see The Kids Are All Right earlier that evening.

Please, stay away from this drivel. Even the above examples don’t fully capture the constant onslaught of absurd fodder this film gives even the most casual feminist (or person who thinks that women are full humans). Let’s wrap this piece of crap up with a few words of wisdom, courtesy of The Other Guys: “She overreacted… she’s a woman.”

Written by: Hannah Moulton Belec, August 17th 2010

Masquerades

admin — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Lyès Salem

Global Film Initiative

The first feature film of Lyès Salem, Masquerades is a lighthearted and quirky comedy about an Algerian gardener, Mounir Mekbek, who dreams of a life beyond the confines of his sleepy village. His arrogance combined with his “responsibility” for a narcoleptic younger sister, Rym, make him the laughingstock of his community. He is a misunderstood dreamer who has aspirations, but can’t quite seem to pull himself together to meet the goals he has set for himself. He blames his humiliation on his sister’s illness and dreams of using the prospect of finding a good match for her to improve his standing in his village.

Following an incident at a wedding, an inebriated Mounir declares to the entire village that he has promised Rym to the wealthy foreigner. As a means of damage control, the family leaves town, in order to return and state that Rym was not interested in the gentleman. However, in order to motivate her sweetheart, Khliffa, to propose to her, Rym declares her intentions to marry the stranger.

Thus, the entire village becomes involved in the exciting lie as everyone wants to be a part of, not only planning the wedding, but the new fortune of the Mekbek family. Salem does a great job of portraying the views and reactions of the village, as well as the aspirations of the other villagers. It becomes evident that Mounir was not ridiculed for his sister, or lack of material wealth, but because of his haughty attitude towards his neighbours. Mounir is swept away in the newfound respect that he earns for commanding the regard of such a highly regarded foreigner. The introduction of the wealthy foreigner is an effective device to show the hypocrisy, but ultimately the desire Mounir has to make a better life for his wife, son, and sister.

The female cast definitely makes the movie more powerful. The character who shines the most is Habiba, Mounir’s wife, played by Rym Takoucht. She sees right through Mounir’s cocky façade, and brings him back to reality from his schemes to gain respect from the village. Her relationship with Mounir represents the realities that she has had to face, despite having been very in love with him at the time of their courtship. I was grateful that the film did not depict her as a bitter hag, but as a woman who is discontented in a sense, but keeps her family grounded in reality. Their relationship provided an interesting parallel to the courtship of Rym and Khliffa. I became disappointed towards the end of the film, because the lie about the wealthy foreigner simply goes away, and Rym ends up with Khliffa, thus providing a clean and happy ending.

Overall, I really enjoyed this film, and I thought it was a great depiction of the restlessness that comes with wanting something more in the face of socioeconomic hardship—something that I feel that many can relate to. It was also refreshing to watch a film in which an Islamic community was not depicted as the barbaric site of oppression of women, but rather showed the complex nuances of life in a small village in a changing world.

Written by: Sara Yasin, August 15th 2010

Dinner for Schmucks

admin — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Jay Roach

Paramount Pictures

In the formulaic plots that have developed in mainstream comedies over the last several years the re-occurring theme seems to be male idiocy. The Will Ferrells and Steve Carrells of the comedy world have delighted in creating man-children characters who don’t exist on the normal plane of human intelligence. They come equipped with stock sex jokes, like not understanding the female anatomy, or overconfidence that their incorrect knowledge of basic vocabulary is accurate. As audience members we then feel forced to laugh at their idiocy as we revel in our own perceived genius.

In the latest formulaic mainstream comedy Dinner for Schmucks the stupid culminates into a festival of idiots. It’s as if a team of Hollywood screenwriters and comedians have been sitting around with these amusing character creations that didn’t fit into any film and they devised a shaky story just to insert them into a film. The plot for Dinner for Schmucks is essentially non-existent featuring moment after moment of nonsensicalness and a finale that leaves the viewer wondering what the exact message was. Despite all of that, the film manages to be hilarious enough to keep any schmuck’s attention.

Paul Rudd stars as Tim, an eager business analyst for a major financial planning corporation who has just come up with the proposal that could give him the promotion he’s been waiting for. His soon-to-be fiancé, Julie (Stephanie Szostak), has just been asked to curate a major art exhibit and things couldn’t be going better for the couple. Tim is asked into the head of his company’s office and told about the proposal that could land him the promotion he deserves–he needs to find an idiot and bring him/her to dinner at his boss’s house so that all the other employees can make fun of him/her.

Enter Steve Carrell as Barry, an IRS agent and mouse taxidermy enthusiast who doesn’t know what “curate” means and is unable to detect sarcasm. Against Julie’s adamant declinations, Tim decides to take Barry to the infamous “Dinner for Winners” and use him as the catalyst for his promotion. Along the way Barry gets intertwined in Tim’s personal life, straining his relationship with Julie and his opportunities to look good at the office causing Tim to question his career choice and his values.

Unlike other mainstream comedies where the stupid characters are ever-present and unbalanced, Dinner for Schmucks creates two teams right from the start–the idiots and the everyday characters. Each time a new character is introduced you find out which side they are on–if they’re quirky and interesting, they’re a schmuck; if they’re plain and undeveloped, they’re probably a “normal” person.

Paul Rudd is his usual sardonic and sensitive protagonist, similar to his roles in I Love You, Man and Role Models. His natural sweetness makes his predicaments with Barry almost unbelievable as he attempts to act like a self-important asshole. Rudd isn’t as natural at that type of role as say Ron Livingston, who ironically has seemed to play nothing but corporate jerks since his breakthrough role in Office Space.

Steve Carrell is only mildly funny in one of his worst performances of his career. Unlike in many of his other comedies, he doesn’t find any layers to give to Barry and even the subplot about his broken heart over his ex-wife is easily forgettable.

The comedic highlights of the film are Zach Galifianakis who plays Barry’s faux-telepathic IRS boss and Jemaine Clement who plays a self-absorbed artist. Galifianakis is the new king of stupid. His humor is better suited for sketch comedy than feature films because of its lack of depth, but he’s so hilarious that it is easy to forgive his misgivings. Clement’s background in improvisation shines through as you sense the other actors trying to hold back laughter with each witty and unpredictable line that he delivers.

The only other commendable performances come from the limited female roles in the film. The drop dead gorgeous Stephanie Szostak has one of her largest feature film roles as Julie and she makes the character easy to fall for. Lucy Punch also has a limited, but hilarious role as the off-the-rails Darla, Tim’s stalker ex-girlfriend who throws a wrench in his plans.

As the film approaches the ending one wonders what the message is as every attempt at meaning or depth was bungled by director Jay Roach and screenwriters David Guion and Michael Handelman. However, you may just leave the cinema quoting your favorite lines from the ridiculousness that just ensued.

Cross-posted from Film Misery

Written by: Alex Carlson, August 9th 2010

Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work

admin — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 00:28:00 +0000

Directed by Anne Sundberg, Ricki Stern

In the previous millennium when I was an idealistic young thing attending Barnard College, the women’s college affiliated with Columbia University, there was a lot of talk about who before us had walked the hallowed halls: anthropologist Margaret Mead; writers Edna St. Vincent Millay, Zora Neale Thurston, Francine du Plessix Gray, Patricia Highsmith and Ntozake Shange; recent United States ambassador to the U.N. Jeanne Kirkpatrick; musicians Laurie Anderson and Suzanne Vega (whose song “Luka” was then on all the airwaves); NPR’s Susan Stamberg; nationally syndicated columnist Anna Quindlen; choreographer Twyla Tharp; and a pre-Omnimedia Martha Stewart, whose daughter had also recently attended.

We students looked up to these women, our heroes. No trivia about them was too slight to swap and discuss. But I can only remember a couple of times when the name Joan Rivers was mentioned, and then only with a smirk. It seemed unbelievable that someone like her—brash, crass, undignified, disfigured by plastic surgery even then—could have once been part of our very serious undertakings in academia and feminism. Above all, we were earnest, and serious, and she was not.

The truth is that we failed to recognize Rivers for the pioneer she was. Those were the early days of Seinfeld. The backstage world of stand up comedy was still a mystery. There was no Comedy Central. We had no idea how brutal the world was in which she had risen. What a boy’s club. We were feminists, but we still thought we had to be ladies, or at least decorous. We disapproved of Joan Rivers.

Well, what did we know? Martha would go on to rule over all things female: weddings, entertaining, flowers, crafts, cooking. But the surprise is that Joan Rivers, now seventy-five years old, who seemed even then to be on the wane, continues. And the entertaining new documentary, Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work shows the incredible scrappiness and determination it has taken her to survive.

Born in 1933, Joan Rivers grew up Joan Molinsky in affluent Larchmont, NY, a dark-haired girl with a big nose. Her mother, as she relates, continually assured her that “looks don’t matter.” Meaning that she was ugly and they all knew it. “No man,” Joan says, at one particularly poignant moment, “has ever told me I looked beautiful. Oh, they say, ‘You look great!’ But never beautiful.” And so the plastic surgeries began—very early, from all appearances. By the time of her first TV appearances, in the mid-1960s, her nose had been transformed into a ski slope, although not yet the snub it is today.

Part of the fascination of the film is the grotesque state of her present face, with eyes slanted to cat-like angles from numerous lifts and lips and cheeks so swollen she can sometimes barely speak. But despite her obsession with her looks, Joan is, in an interesting way, completely without vanity. The film opens with her bare face, shot closer-up than any of us would allow for ourselves. One can see the veins in her eyelids and hints of scar tissue around her eyes and nose. She looks old, unhealthy, fragile, almost dead. Gradually, thick stage makeup is slapped on, in a healthy golden shade that gives no hint of the ashen, ruddy skin beneath. Heavy eye shadows and liners, lip liners and lipstick, until the Joan we know from photos finally emerges. It is a complete transformation. Joan has really let us see the real her underneath.

She even allows the camera to run right after she returns from a session at the dermatologist, where she’s been all “shot up.” Her face is splotchy from the needle, her cheeks puffed up so high it looks as though she’s suffering a horrible allergic reaction. But what Joan needs more than anything, far more than dignity, is attention. If the camera wants to roll, she’s game.

In the same way she is completely open about the ups and downs of her career, her relationships with her husband and daughter, the humiliations, anger, fears and needs that drive her. She even agrees, for the money, to a celebrity roast she finds mean and hurtful. She needs the money to fund her unbelievably lavish lifestyle. She has ridden in only limousines “since 1986.” And she lives in insane palatial comfort. Her manager says it’s like “the Queen of England.” Joan says it’s like “Maria (sic) Antoinette.” Let’s just say poor Bernie Madoff lived like a pauper compared to Joan. But she is also generous to her numerous staff. They are paid well, and Joan takes care of their children’s private school tuitions too. No wonder they are devoted. Good thing. It looks as though her staff are the only ones celebrating her 75th birthday. And one of the saddest moments in the film is when she says she has probably only three friends whom she can call to share a piece of good news.

And so it’s work, work and more work for Joan, who is perhaps just as driven as the legendary Martha. From Florida to Connecticut to the backwoods of Wisconsin, from plane to plane, convention hall to casino to QVC to shill the jewelry that makes her millions, despite the indignities, humiliation and exhaustion, Joan soldiers on.

Joan is all the things we young Barnard women abhorred back in the day: rude, obnoxious, offensive, freakish. But she is also a woman who recognized what she needed and went out to get it. Self-made, self-perpetuating, hard-working and indefatigable, Joan Rivers is a force to be reckoned with, indeed a piece of work.

Cross-posted at Frothygirlz.com

Written by: Grace @ Frothygirlz.com, August 3rd 2010

Soul Kitchen

admin — Sat, 31 Jul 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Fatih Akın

Corazón International

Soul Kitchen is a lot like cotton candy—sweet but, ultimately, not very satisfying. Like many festival favorites, the plot of this independent German film revolves around a cast of lovably quirky characters who get themselves eye-deep into trouble.

Zinos (Adam Bousdoukos), a German of Greek descent, has a lot of stuff on his plate. He’s the proprietor of Soul Kitchen, a struggling eatery in a rundown section of Hamburg. The tax people, led by Frau Schuster (Catrin Striebeck), are knocking at his door. His ne’er-do-well brother, Illias (Moritz Bleibtreu), seeks employment at the restaurant wanting “to go through the motions” of working so that he can make parole. Neumann (Wotan Wilke Möhring), a shady real estate agent, is sniffing around in hopes of acquiring the property. An uninsured Zinos makes the mistake of trying to move a heavy dishwasher by himself and gets a herniated disk for his trouble. On top of all this, Zinos is pining away for his girlfriend, Nadine (Pheline Roggan), who has hightailed it to Shanghai.

Attempting to revamp the restaurant’s simple cuisine, he hires the temperamental Shayn (Birol Ünel), a culinary snob who lost his last job for pulling a knife on a paying customer who asked for hot gazpacho. Things start looking up for Zinos when Shayn’s gourmet creations take off with the hip crowd. Eager to reunite with Nadine, Zinos makes plans to move to Shanghai, leaving Illias to manage the place. Illias gambles the restaurant away to Neumann. And poor Zinos discovers that Nadine has been cheating on him and aggravates his back injury on the same day. Zinos burns down his apartment in a fit of painkiller-induced pique. Homeless, loveless, jobless, and broke, Zinos has to figure out a way to get his restaurant back.

The script, co-written by the director and the leading man, is chock full of sly jokes and the dialogue is genuinely inspired. The filmmaker wisely decided not to let the food upstage the story. The problem is that the characters, with the exception of Zinos, are mere stereotypical sketches. Too much of the plot rests on contrivance—the romance between Illias and the surly waitress Lucia (Anna Bederke), for example—and things wrap up a little too neatly at the end. I never could root for the burgeoning relationship between Zinos and Anna (Dorka Gryllus), the physiotherapist who treats his back injury; the two don’t spend enough time onscreen together for me to care.

Full of whimsy, Soul Kitchen is definitely a film I would watch again. I can also see how it won the Special Jury Prize and the Young Cinema Award for Best Film at the Venice Film Festival. It should enjoy a respectable run on the art-house circuit when it’s released in the States later this summer; however, the film is much too flawed to ever make any “best of” list, and it definitely isn’t Fatih Akin’s best work.

Written by: Ebony Edwards-Ellis, July 31st 2010

A Parallelogram (7/1/2010)

admin — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 18:57:00 +0000

Steppenwolf Theater

Chicago, Illinois

In Euclidean geometry, parallel lines never intersect. In post-Euclidean geometry, all parallel lines under specific conditions—for example, placed on a globe—will converge. In Bruce Norris’ new play, A Parallelogram, parallelogram is the term used to describe a window of sorts in space and time. The protagonist’s future self visits her through such a passage and discloses details of her life and the world to come. The intersecting lives—that of Bee, her boyfriend Jay, and the garden worker J.J.—are sharply critiqued by future Bee (henceforth referred to as “Bee 2”) to comic effect. The relentless quality and sharpness of the playwright’s words counterbalance the poignancy of Bee’s predicament: informed of the future, she rallies her will to intervene, with results that are futile at best.

Marylouise Burke plays Bee 2 and wins the audience over with her depiction of the idealistic young woman transformed into a bespectacled, chain-smoking, oreo-gobbling, sweatsuit clad pile of cynical resignation. The primary benefit of aging, she confidently yet conspiratorially announces, is no longer giving a shit. Younger Bee (Kate Arrington) becomes an increasingly engaging character, moving from annoying to genuinely concerned and of concern as the origin of her conundrum emerges and is further complicated by Bee 2’s interventions. Tom Irwin plays Bee’s boyfriend Jay, a man buffeted by his personal relationships who breaks off the relationship under the weight of Bee’s apparent insanity. J.J.—the sincere and ultimately unassuming lawnboy—is portrayed by Tim Bickel.

Big ideas are bluntly addressed—Is there free will? Is love real? Does life hold any meaning whatsoever?—but the play’s most engaging moments lie in its precise comic timing and repartee. Norris shares explications of men falling in love with folding chairs, or individuals saved by parrot’s bites, and these specific sights brace the sides of this quadrilateral form. Anna D. Shapiro’s direction deftly renders repeated scenes gripping instead of tedious, and keeps baldly comic elements fresh. Todd Rosenthal designed a splendid set, a standard middle class condominium that spins to show a hospital room and back again. The quandary of the play is presented on its programs: "If someone could tell you in advance exactly what was going to happen in your life, and how everything was going to turn out, and if you knew you couldn’t do anything to change it, would you still want to go on with your life?" If my reiterated existence included another outing to the Steppenwolf to see A Parallelogram, I would.

Written by: Erika Mikkalo, July 13th 2010

Grown-Ups

admin — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Directed by Dennis Dugan

Columbia Pictures

Every year, one of my nieces comes to visit my husband and I for a week over the summer. This year we took her to a couple of art museums, a jazz concert, and her first comic book store. We also did fun things at home like painting our nails and playing video games. On the last day of our visit, we decided to see a movie, and she wanted to see Grown-Ups. I did too, as a matter of fact.

I’m happy to report that I genuinely liked the movie. Though it has some foibles, that we’ll get to in a moment, the film is genuinely family friendly. Not only that, but it’s also family-centric. It’s enjoyable to see these guys, who are obviously friends in real life, working together on screen. On top of that, this is honestly the perfect summer movie. There’s a lake, a lake house, a rope swing, a picnic, and a vacation vibe that makes it the perfect movie for the upcoming Fourth of July weekend.

In Adam Sandler movies from years past, women were typically just there to serve beer in a bikini or reward him with sexual activity for academic or sports-related progress; here they get to be actual people with a more three-dimensional and emotional story. Though Grown-Ups is definitely a movie written by and made for men (nothing wrong with that), one senses that Sandler and company are genuinely trying to be more respectful and inclusive of their female characters. They don’t always hit the mark with that intended change, but their effort seems sincere.

We do get some of the stereotypical “nag” jokes, but hey…those are funny in small doses. I'm not one of those feminists who thinks you can't make any jokes out of female characters at all. I'm more in the Tina Fey school of "anyone is fair game," along with any subject matter as long as there's a level playing field of mockery. The men in the film seem to be at a time in their lives when they are feeling emasculated, but their problems stem from their own lack of action, not from the action of their wives. Though the story teeters around blaming the women for the men's problems, hallelujah, it never really does. I had characters to identify with that weren’t simply present to be pleasing to the male gaze, and filmmakers take note: non-sexist plots will make you more money at the box office.

Okay, so there was one slow-mo cheerleaders running scene, but it was of the wives cheering on their husbands, and quite frankly, I'd rather see the camera trained on the wife characters as being the visually appealing ones than some random girl bending over a car. (See the next paragraph.) In fact, there was almost a sweetness to this scene, although my fellow feminists may hunt me down for saying so. Part of any healthy relationship is finding your partner attractive, and I don't want there to be such a feminist backlash where we say any woman who wants to be attractive, or is, is a traitor. That just doesn't seem fair.

In all fairness, there were still several parts of the film that made me wince, especially with my 14-year-old niece by my side. In one sequence, you’ve seen it in the preview, a clearly under-aged girl, dressed far too scantily, leans over a car in a highly suggestive manner so that the older, married men can gawk at her. Kind of gross and definitely not realistic. We’re not stupid. We really don’t care to get hot oil or steam burns all over ourselves while tinkering with our cars, and we don’t lick our lips and make come-hither eyes at an engine. Oddly, I found myself forgiving these clearly exploitative moments, and my niece simply got through it by looking at me and rolling her eyes.

If you have a young daughter, the film might be a good gateway to discussing the portrayal of women on film. After all, if we censored what our kids watched based on sexism alone, they wouldn’t see much of anything at all. Better to watch it with them and talk about it. And this film is a great introduction to talking about lots of things: texting, video games, playing outside, marriage. In fact, I'd like to see a sequel since the cast had such genuine chemistry. If you can’t get your inner critic to shut up, Grown-Ups might be just the thing.

_Excerpted from Born for Geekdom

Written by: Audrey M. Brown, July 1st 2010

Lizzy the Lezzy

admin — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Ruth Selwyn

Sundance Channel

To celebrate Gay and Lesbian Pride Month, the Sundance Channel has released five digitally animated Lizzy the Lezzy short films featuring the irreverent stand up comedy and musical humor of their title character. Who is this Lizzy the Lezzy – besides an Internet and television phenom who’s been featured on AfterEllen.com and Logo TV’s Alien Boot Camp? Well, as she puts it: "I’m Lizzy the Lezzy and I am a dyke." (I guess it’s okay when she says it.)

For your information, she also goes by “muff munching freak,” among other deceptively self-deprecating labels. In reality, lesbian pride is her thing. If you’re not shy about lesbian, gay, or heterosexuality, you’ll want to check out Lizzy’s films as soon as possible for a good laugh or two…or nine (I counted). Even though Lizzy uses these often disparaging labels to identify herself, she quickly dispenses with the formalities and basks in happy banter about the joys of being a lesbian, and the joys of sexual intercourse between all people: "Love is bi. Love is queer. Love is shoving things in your lover’s rear." But also: "Love is for all wherever you are."

Whether she’s lamenting the fact that women aren’t allowed to walk around with bare breasts exposed in most industrialized parts of the world—something people of both sexes and most sexual orientations might complain about too—or the unfortunate smallness of the out and proud lesbian community, Lizzy is a cute, singsong-y presence of simple animation who makes for a good few minutes of enlightenment here and there. Accept her humor or don’t: it’s unapologetic and refreshingly matter of fact, even if it doesn’t cover any new turf. Though Lizzy has a tendency to sexually objectify women—admittedly so—she also professes to love women in their natural glory; some of her comic stints are as much celebrations of womanhood as they are lesbian identity.

Two things that might alarm some viewers are Lizzy’s high-pitched voice and childlike appearance; she somewhat resembles an extra from an episode of South Park. This demeanor aligns nicely with the open-minded awe and wonder Lizzy employs to examine the world around her, and allows for her witty stand up to seem fresh. She’s not a child, though she is somewhat babyish, and those who find the likes of South Park difficult to stomach are hereby cautioned to stay away.

Fans of The L Word will want to seek out Lizzy’s shorts that critique and celebrate the show and its characters. Even though she can’t remember all the lyrics to the show’s theme song, it’s fun hearing her take on its mainstream, Hollywood-packaged lesbian ideals. The Lizzy the Lezzy digital shorts were created by Ruth Selwyn and can currently be viewed online at SundanceChannel.com and LizzytheLezzy.com.

Written by: Rachel Moehl, June 23rd 2010