NYCweboy

Don't Ask, Just Tell: Sh*t Gay Guys Say

I love me some internets!

 

 

 

Although I haven't said all of this... I've said a lot of it. Or something a lot like it. :)

The Hangover 2: The Hurt Looker

The Hangover is one of those films I initially resisted, despite various positive reviews. I skipped it in theaters, and only the insistence of my boss that it was that good got me to add it to my Netflix queue (where, despite suggestions of a wait, I managed to get it pretty quickly.

The only way I can explain my urge to rush out, today, and see The Hangover 2 is that I, too, was convinced after one viewing: The first Hangover was a rude, dirty, outrageous joke of a film.

The good news is that The Hangover 2 convincingly follows up on the first film's promise, every bit as rude and crude, with an even more dagerous edge. But if the premise of the first one turned you off... this one is surely not going to change your mind.

Sold as a fairly brazen filthy paean to the hedonistic misbehavior of randy bachelors, both the Hangover films are, to my mind, not quite that at all. Instead, they're actually caper films, that age old genre where solving a mildly intriguing mystery allows for the unfolding of a complex tale, usually in flashback, to explain How We Got Here and What Really Happened. In these films, the shameless, filthy hedonism is really window dressing to a much sturdier plot device: how do these idiots reconstruct a hazy night of debauchery while coming out of a drunken stupor?

By making the debauchery a series of ever more outrageous reveals (One of them got a tattoo! One of them stole a tiger! One of them married a stripper! They got into a fight with a drug kingpin!), The Hangover actually plays a game of Can You Top This, while stringing the audience along to find out what happened to one hapless victim. In the first film, it was the groom. In this one, it's the bride's brother.

Hangover 2 takes up a couple of years after the first, with the wedding of Stu, the dentist (he married the stripper in the first one, and subsequently broke several of his teeth) to a woman he met after the first failed Bachelor extravaganza (he broke up with his then fiancee at the end of the first). His new bride is Thai, and the wedding is being held at a coastal resort outside Bangkok. And the other guys are along, but there's a promise of "no bachelor party" and no repeat of the first film's antics.

That edict lasts about 20 minutes into the film, when a post rehearsal dinner "just one beer" leaves the film's orginal three protagonists in a filthy motel room in Bangkok, once again facing a bewildering array of messes and that missing brother (who happens to be a teen prodigy, top cellist, and premed at Stanford). Last time, they had a tiger in the suite; this time it's a small monkey.

Also in their Bangkok hotel room is Mr. Chow, the first film's nominal antagonist, who basically tops even the 3 main characters in shameless excess. In this film's first of many out of the blue turns, after telling them he can reconstruct the previous night's events, he takes one hit of cocaine and promptly drops dead (this, I have to say, was just about pitch perfect). Leaving the boys to both dispose of his body, and try to figure out what the heck happened.

From here the film basically takes off on a breathless chase across the crowded streets and less savory alleys of Bangkok, stopping at a tattoo parlor, a Buddhist monastery and a strip club, just to name a few. Along the way they acquire and return a Buddhist monk (to his monastery, natch), they find out the back story of the monkey, and they even return to discover that Mr. Chow is very much alive - and cold, having had his body stuck in an ice machine.

Though it's fair to argue that The Hangover films glorify a kind of ugly male behavior that deserves no celebration, I suspect the real appeal of the films is that they're in on the fact that this behavior is odious, and the lead characters aren't so much heroic as assholes the audience can't entirely dislike. In part, the film makes liberal use of torturing, abusing, and even disfiguring it's main characters (Bradley Cooper's Phil gets shot at one point, Stu gets a face tattoo much like Mike Tyson's), so that their suffering and humiliations are very much the joke.

Indeed, the film's real hero is Zach Galifianakis as Allen, the sad boyman who still lives in his parent's upscale mansion in middle age. Galifianakis is no pretty boy, and he plays Allen as an off-kilter, slightly shambling nerd boy who doesn't quite get the world of grown-ups. As a result, he ambles pleasantly through both films, causing trouble, getting hurt, but not nearly so much as the others. It's the survival of Allen, really, that both films deliver, much to the audience's relief (and if the producers have any brains left, they'll make The Hangover 3 his wedding).

Cooper's pretty-boy asshole performance made the first film, and he remains the second film's emodiment, such as he is, of the cool dude who can handle almost anything (it makes his reaction to getting shot all the more priceless). And Ed Helms does a weird, wonderful job of turning hapless Stu from victim to participant in his humiliations. And, too, Ken Jeong's Mr. Chow, which could easily be dismissed as ugly stereotyping, refuses to fit into any easy label. Justin Bartha, on hand again as the film's first groom, now brother in law to Allen, has little to do, and misses the night's fetivities.

The point, really, is that the combination of solid plotting and well realized, three dimensional characters is what separates The Hangover both 1 and 2, from other, more derivative comedies that mine the same territory. Rather than celebrate hedonism, the films remind us that "wild party nights" are, in fact, kind of sleazy, small, and sad. The film doesn't avoid the results of misbehavior, and doesn't glorify them, so much as  say "if you are going to be this kind of jerk... own it." Take your medicine, face your music, live with your tattoo.

Director Todd Phillips continues to give all of this a fresh, gritty feel that revels in excess, but doesn't lose sight of the seedy, tacky edges (the first film really gets Las Vegas in all its sonagles and seediness). Bangkok, in turn, fares better than one might expect - seedy, in places, but also energized and exciting.

It would be easy to suggest that Hangover 2 is more of the same... but the point, I think, is that the first film's premise worked well enough that returning to it yields yet more payoffs. And the wide appeal of the film - the first was a mcuh bigger than expected hit, this one may well match similar expectations - is probably proof, too, that straight white men are funny when they can be seen as ignorant assholes. It's a disservice, of course, to stright men to make such a blanket pronouncement, much the way humor that still finds gay people effemtinate or fat people worthy of ridicule carry a cruel, unkind edge. The Hangover, Parts 1 and 2, are probably a sign that this joke shows no sign of growing old. And not when the results are sick, wrong, and as flat out funny as this film turns out to be.

 

The Charlie Sheen Story Is Not A Comedy

In the contest for "America's Most Prominent Public Mess" (recent previous title holders: Whitney Houston, Lindsay Lohan, Robert Downey Jr., Tara Reid), it's clear we have a new winner: Charlie Sheen.

Sheen's problems are, as they say, "legendary", which mostly means tales of his partying ways have been with us pretty much since he arrived as a public celebrity, in his late teens. Booze! Drugs! Prostitutes! Pornstars! It's no wonder, really, that Sheen's exploits have been tabloid fodder for so long and in such detail.

It's hard to say what changed of late - though the sheer length of time is itself probably a good reason - but sometime in the past year, pick your point, the story of Charlie Sheen and his messy exploits went from comedy to tragedy... though it's taking a while for the media and the public to catch up.

Certainly, a string of arrests for drug possession and erratic behavior are part of it, as is the fact that Sheen's been enjoying a modest comeback as the star of Two and a Half Men, which benefits considerably from Sheen's droll delivery of outrageous, party hearty mindset as dialogue.

But I'm sort of less fascinated about the spectacularly public nature of Sheen's meltdown as I am with the way people are watching it, because I think the misture of humor and revulsion that's driven the story much of the way thus far is a good indication of the problems we have as a nation, socially and culturally, of dealing with addiction issues.

If that sounds terribly serious for such a frivolous story... well, there's the problem in the nutshell.

It's well past the point to face the reality that Sheen's personal problems aren't funny. Friends, family and his employers have all gone public with their concerns that he has a considerable substance abuse problem and needs treatment. His most recent collapse in Los Angeles led to revelations by one of his companions, an adult film actress, of his disturbed behavior and the large quantities of cocaine and other drugs present in his home. His TV show was put on hiatus so Sheen could get treatment. Sheen now claims to be just fine, and this past week lashed out at CBS and his show's producers, saying he was fine and ready to work.

Almost all of the preceeding paragraph has been presented as hilarious, and given to the public largely as entertainment.

I've been thinking about this topic for weeks; those who know me well can guess as to why this might resonate more with me than most stories. But what got me off the dime to finally write this down was this post from Melissa McEwan, in its entirety:

I'm not inclined to give unsolicited advice, but I'm going to make an exception just this once.

Charlie Sheen: Take a nap.

Shhhhhhhhhh. It's sleepytime now.

Charlie Sheen doesn't need "a nap." He needs treatment for a significant substance abuse problem. It's cute, and cheeky, to see his trials and travails as a public meltdown happening in front of us, for our amusement. But it's that failure to take addiction seriously - as we do most issues around mental health - that's helped make it harder for addicts to get access to treatment and for family, friends, employers and coworkers to find the support they need to help someone they care about. It's a ghastly, ghoulish aspect of American culture that so much of our need to be entertained is satiated by gawking at the antics of the intoxicated. It's not new, it's not healthy, and it's not helping Charlie Sheen. And maybe we won't figure that out until he's dead. But even if that happens, I'm pretty sure we'll just keep staring, wondering, in our sweet faux-naive way, how this could have happened. Because drug addiction leading to overdose is so unexpected... and so funny.

 

Friday Morning Fa La La La Fell

 

jinb

Spoken Repetition Of My Apology, Girl

Okay... I have to get off of this.... but as I was checking out "Title of The Song" yesterday, I tripped over a number of guy's glee clubs (Think Ivy League traditions like the Whiffenpoofs and Dunster Funsters) that actually incorporated the song into their repetoires - after all, they've had to do boy band material, too. This is a clip of The Friars of the University of Michigan from 2009. Once you get past the fairly convoluted intro, their version is strikingly pretty. And well received.

 

 

Girl on Girl on Girl on Girl on...

Okay, I can't entirely stop... after exploring for some more info on Da Vinci's Notebook (they're from Maryland! Of course!), this was the very next song I chose. I now think they are all that and the bag of chips. Without further ado... Internet Porn.

 

 

Naive Expression Of Love (Title Of This Post)

I have just laughed longer and harder than I have in quite a while from something I found on the web.

Via Melissa's Question of the Day, a link to DaVinci's Notebook and "Title of This Song", perhaps the most genius sum-up of everything from Boyz II Men to N'Sync, with a little 98 Degrees thrown in just for good measure. Especially the key change at the end. :)

 

 

 

R.I.P. Lorene Yarnell

jinb

Remember That Girl Who Sat Next To You In Third Period English And Told You All About Some Popular Girl You Didn't Know And Some Boy On A Sports Team Who Was A BMOC?

... well apparently she, like, grew up and became, like totally, what we call a "journalist":

By contrast, Barber says Levi handled the news that he had gotten together with Bristol rather well. “It really surprised me. When Levi did find out, he was very mature about the situation. He was more happy that it was me with Tripp and Bristol than someone he didn’t like. I still wanted to be friends, but Bristol wouldn’t let me do that.” Barber admits that he then dropped Levi as a buddy. “I feel pretty low as a friend for doing that,” he says, adding he doubts he’ll be asked back as a groomsman this time around. 

Well, it sure beats "school board meets to discuss budget cuts that may affect students arts programs", doncha think?

Come on... she uses quotation marks and everything.

It's not that I'm opposed to gossip or that I don't think the ins and outs of the Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston saga aren't (mildly) interesting; but this is beyond "life is like high school." This is high school, literally; all the kids from Wasilla High, playing Gossip Girl on the national stage, with Shushanna Walshe happily transcribing every petty detail.

All we need to know now, Shushanna, is who you plan to take to Prom. Because I hear that boy on the soccer team can be such a dick.

It's Not A Woman Problem... It's A Funny Problem

The thing about the "there aren't enough women on camera or writing The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" brouhaha that developed this week is that it's really kind of beside the point. Anyone with a passing interest in feminist issues and TV comedy could give you 25 years of the exact same argument in relation to Saturday Night Live, David Letterman's work in late night across his whole career, or any number of others. This whole "Dudes Are The Ones Controlling Sketch Comedy" line is utterly true, utterly depressing, and the exceptions tend to prove the rule.

So why is Jon Stewart suddenly such a bellweather of sexist intolerance?

Apparently - to read the Jezebel piece which provoked much of the drama - the argument is that Stewart, somehow, represents some sort of liberal, progressive ideal on TV; that since The Daily Show (so I've heard) is popular with lefty leaning progressive types (who, we now discover, are mostly dudes) we should expect some sort of "higher standard.

And also, apparently, they hired some very attractive woman who's been doing these sort of odd sexually humiliating bits on other shows and on the web. I'm soryy... I just don't really keep up with the kind of stuff that makes it into Maxim or onto Spike TV or is really popular with straight teen bvoys who really like video gaming.

(I have this fear that these will be my nephews in  few years. Oh God, the fear and shame.)

In any case, I'd let this one pass, but I do think the problem - the point everyone is getting beside - is in the premise: this notion that Jon Stewart, or The Daily Show represent something wonderful for lefty politics and thus should be held to some sort of standard of expectation. In truth, and I said this back in 2008, I think The Daily Show has struggled since Barack Obama's election to figure out how a show written for sarcastic liberals can find a way to be both thrilled and critical of a Democratic Presidency... much the way Bill Maher's Politically Incorrect was brilliant satire... until just after 9/11.

I know lots of bloggers (Talking Points Memo is especially guilty of this) who let Daily Show pieces stand in for actual commentary on this or that issue of the day, and I generally think it's lazy and kind of weak to lean so heavily on the writing of someone else's professional staff; but I'm struck, very often, by the way that much of what Stewart's been doing lately is... not very funny. And also, more sadly, not necessarily all that insightful or deep on the politics we're living through, these days.

It may seem churlish and old fashioned to point out that what the Dauily Show does is not news, but I think that reminder is often necessary and not laid out frankly and clearly enough. Jon Stewart isn't journalist and what happens on TDS is not news and informational program - even if, which I also tend to look askance at, the claims that many people go to him first for information is true (at this late date, I think not).

Indeed, Stewart is no more news, and not all that different from, what passes for "prime time news and opinion" on MSNBC, meaning both Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow. All three have perfected (*along with, arguably, Ed Schultz of the earlier "Ed Show" as well) some sort of bizarre antidote to the rise of deeply cynical, sarcastic commentary that started in earnest from the right under Bill Clinton - Stewart et al now offer a similar, snark-filled, but somehow "factual" reading of the day's events meant to make conservatives look foolish and lefty opinions look brilliant. And as lefties do, they've struggled to figure out how to be both thrilled and unhappy with Democrats who don't quite live up to every (unrealistic) expectation. Which, as Obama's increasingly muddled Presidency wears on, is getting more and more challenging.

What we need, really, is more news, and better news content, done by reporters who will follow stories where they lead, not trying to protect one side or another or preserve a simplistic left/right view. We need less snark, less sarcasm, and less "why be so serious." We could use serious. And maybe it's unsexy and maybe it isn't funny and maybe it doesn't sell; I remain convinced that done right, serious can be interesting, even sexy, and still manage to inform.

I've never particularly seen the need, or the popularity, for the Daily Show. Stewart is, clearly, a charmer of a host, as cool and with it as Johnny Carson at times, or more likely, Jack Paar. But the show itself is little more than an extension of the news segment bit of SNL which itself is little more than the topical bits scooped up out of Laugh In. I'm more impressed, still, by the kind of smug seriousness in the satire of Stephen Colbert's Colbert Report which really climbs under the puffery of Bill O'Reilly types and finds the joke without dropping the facade. Stewart, really, has never managed to satirize the kind of puffed up solo anchor at a news desk seriousness he trades on to give himself authority, not enough to undermine it.

Given its progenitors, I don't then find it surprising that The Daily Show is like them: traditional joke writing done, as these things mostly are, by a bunch of guys - and pretty much only guys - mining familiar topics and setting up similar punchlines. Some of it is funny, always has been, always will be; and a lot of it, over time, is getting less funny, as fat jokes and fag jokes and much of what involves smugly feeling superior over an inferior other becomes mostly insulting and demeaning to someone. There are other ways to be funny. We could use more creativity in seeking that out.

But still. If I have a problem with The Daily Show - and I do - "you don't have enough women on staff" is really the least of it; not because the inherent sexism isn't so obviously a problem, but because the problem with The Daily Show goes really to the heart of what's been making it so popular, the snarky, sarcastic dismissal of so much of what we're dealing with in government and politics. Or maybe it's just that we're seeing the limits of topical political sketch comedy... or maybe, as with other shows, it's just the Daily Show moment has passed. I'm not sure we need to figure out which of these truest to know it's time to move on to something else. And maybe the solution is not a Daily Show with more women, but actually developing that new show whewre funny women rule. I know I'd love to watch that one.