My Weekend Crush

Back when I first saw Marlee Matlin in “Children of a Lesser God,” I remember being impressed. How could you not be? In her film debut she pretty much blew the doors off in a raw yet vulnerable performance that earned her an Oscar at the age of only 21. Through the years she has worked steadily. She had her own TV series for two seasons, “Reasonable Doubts,” and regular roles on “Picket Fences,” “The West Wing” and – of course – “The L Word.” While at times Jodi Lerner was a difficult character to like (like all of the sixth season), Marlee is immediately likable. Energetic, passionate and resolute, she has a positive outlook that can be infectious. Marlee reminds us that our limitations are not our limits. Yes, a deaf actress can go on “Dancing with the Stars” and not just do well, but be impressive. Marlee also continues to champion causes she believes in from The Children Affected by Aids Foundation to Red Cross (which she has been promoting heavily along with other relief efforts for Haiti on her Twitter feed). All that and she got to make out with Jennifer Beals. Like I was saying, impressive. Happy weekend, all.

God bless the child

When the homes fall down and the hospitals fall down and the presidential palace falls down, it puts everything in our lives in instant perspective. The earthquake that ripped through Haiti this week has left rubble, dust, blood and tears in its wakes. The call for help has gone out across the globe, though every technology available. Literally, you can now just lift one finger to help by texting 90999 with the message “HAITI” to donate $10 to the Red Cross. It’s so easy, it almost feels like cheating.

Celebrities have rallied support, the President has pledged support. Hillary Clinton called the level of devastation “biblical.” I don’t pray to any particular god, but I’ve asked the universe to help those hurt, scared and alone. More than 100,000 souls feared lost, maybe some 3 million more in desperate need.

In times like this when the enormity of the world’s suffering come crashing down around us, I’m reminded why I look to entertainment in the first place. Diversion. Joy. Meaning. Beauty. We can’t always find one, let alone all of them, in the things we consume. But sometimes, if we’re really lucky, the art we enjoy takes us through a rabbit hole of imagination and back again to the other side to make our waking lives more vivid and clear. We can’t ever escape the world’s problems, but maybe we can understand them just a little bit better.

HOW TO HELP.

I’m with Coco

Look, middle-aged white men aren’t the focus of this blog. I know that. That has not changed. But this Conan/Leno late night clusterfuck is so crazy and absurd and, in a way, insulting that it begs comment.

First, let us establish the ground rules. I am on Team Conan.

I’ve always enjoyed his brand of off-kilter, geeky smarts. Also, that hair. But now that he has given a definitive “No!” to NBC’s lunatic idea of pushing “The Tonight Show” to 12:05 a.m. (which would no longer make it “Tonight” and instead need to be called “Tomorrow”) to accommodate a half hour of Jay Leno, I’m on Team Conan for life. That has to be one of the one of the classiest “Fuck Off” letters ever written.

What I can’t understand, even for a moment, is how NBC would trade its past for its future. Johnny Carson, who held the chair for 30 years, retired at age 66. Leno, who hosted the show for 17 years, will be 60 in April. Conan, who had the job for seven months, is 46. Squeezing maybe five more years out of Jay at the expense of decades worth of comedy with Conan is, well, idiotic. Beyond idiotic.* This is no short-term investment.

But then, NBC is a network that defines every cliché of dumbassery. Putting Leno on at 10 p.m. five nights a week was an experiment we all knew would end badly. The same old thing but earlier is not a successful programming strategy. But now, instead of admitting failure they’re doubling down on a time machine to solve their problems.

Granted, the new Tonight Show wasn’t totally clicking with me yet. L.A. Conan had lost a certain edge and unpredictability. But it’s really hard to judge something like this after only half a year. “Late Night with Conan O’Brien” wasn’t an immediate hit either. But he grew into it and I had every confidence he’d do the same with Tonight.

But now, I guess not.

Look, Jay Leno signed a contract with NBC until 2004. He could have demanded a longer contract. He could have left the network after his reign ended. But he stayed and in the process helped to bring the whole damn house down.

I watch three shows on NBC: “30 Rock,” “Parks and Recreation” and “Chuck.” Sure, I catch the ever-present Law & Order” now and then, but almost exclusively in rerun. It as far as the rest of their primetime lineup goes, it’s a wasteland (apologies to “The Office & “Community,” – you’re good but Thursdays are brutal and I can only catch up on so much). Even after this whole sorted mess is over, I will still watch those shows.

But it’s just another reminder that if we wait for big corporations to do the smart and ethical thing, the only things left of our once mighty civilization will be cockroaches and Jay Leno.

[* Offending idiot comments removed with apologies.It was not my intent to be hurtful to anyone but the idiots at NBC.]

p.s. Thank you for indulging my pop culture philosophizing on dumb boy drama. To express my gratitude, please enjoy Olivia Wilde in her underwear. It’s the least I could do.

NOTE: Olivia has been very active since the earthquake happened in Haiti, raising awareness and relief funds to the devastated area via her Twitter account. Hot and socially conscious. Score.

Do you want me to seduce you

So, my suspicions have been confirmed. “Chloe” does look good, like mindfuck and the more, um, traditional kind of fuck good. From its first (and French) trailer, the Atom Egoyan drama featuring Julianne Moore, Liam Neeson and Amanda Seyfried is quite promising. And not just for the very special naked time Julianna and Amanda appear to spend together. [Note: That means its NSFW folks, so watch appropriately.]

Normally, I’m not that into the other woman kinds of thrillers (think “Obsessed,” otherwise known as the movie where Beyonce headbutts a bitch). But with a cast this caliber and Egoyan’s penchant for dark, thoughtful material, I’m sold. Granted, the aforementioned very special naked time does help.

And, as I also mentioned before, I’m excited about the chance to see Amanda be bad – as in “you’ve hired me to seduce your husband to catch him in an affair and report back on each encounter in increasingly graphic detail while I also seemingly get it on with you”-bad.

Even though I have a sneaking suspicion this will all end very badly, it’s going to be a heck of a ride getting there.

Fuck it

Do not let those motherfuckers fool you; sometimes you need to swear. That’s right, goddammit, I’m talking about cursing. It’s natural, necessary even. I’ve always thought that purposely exchanging perfectly good profanity with sanitized substitutes in the company of other adults is kind of, well, bullshit. Around kids? Keep it clean. At work? Probably not appropriate. But otherwise, shit yeah. Piss off, puritans. Granted, there are words I don’t use. Hurtful, hateful words. Sexist, sadistic language. No thanks. But there is something so satisfying, so supremely expressive about just saying fuck when you really mean it. And on a day like today when the full reality of being back to work (that first week after a vacation is a blur of catching up and settling back) and the long, cold, gray slog ahead before the next break becomes all too apparent, you’d better believe I mean it. In substitute, please enjoy Portia de Rossi and the rest of “Better Off Ted” really meaning it, too. Mondays, they can fucking suck it.

[Clearly, language is NSFW so, headphones.]

And, just in case you didn’t watch the two-hour premiere of “Chuck” last night, here is one more reason to swear. I know. Fuck.

That, my friends, is the 1:14 mark of last night’s episode. So you won’t miss anything equally juicy, be sure to tune in tonight for a new episode as the show settles into its regular timeslot of 8 p.m. Mondays on NBC. Right about now a fuck yeah would be in order.

Closer - Perto Demais

Quando eu assisti Closer, eu saí do cinema sufocada, sem ar, sem chão... Estava sozinha. E enquanto eu caminhava para o estacionamento eu me sentia à milhas de distância de qualquer ser humano. O que havia acontecido com os finais felizes das comédias românticas? Conhecer alguém, se apaixonar e a partir dali a sua vida passar a fazer sentido. No fundo é isso que queremos, não é? Um sentido para nossas vidas. Estamos todos perdidos... E um dia nos disseram que esse sentido estava no amor. E vários outros passaram a repetir essa ideia em músicas, livros, filmes... que fazem muito sucesso. Principalmente se são lançados perto do dia dos namorados - a segunda data mais lucrativa para o comércio. Transformaram o amor em um produto, tão vazio de sentido quanto qualquer outro. Se não satisfaz suas expectativas, você simplesmente joga fora e procura outro. Esse é o jogo. Inverteram a ordem das coisas. Primeiro idealizamos o nosso futuro relacionamento, depois listamos os requisitos de nosso competidor, depois realizamos alguns test-drive para encontrar algum que preencha boa parte deles. Só que ao mesmo tempo que estamos testando, também estamos sendo testados. Então, os dois jogadores resolveram adotar a mesma estratégia: manter as relações o mais superficial possível. Assim, evitam dois problemas: correr o risco de deixar transparecer algum de seus defeitos e constatar que o oponente o considera inaceitável ou correr o risco de se apaixonar por alguém que não preenche seus requisitos. Desse jogo só há dois finais possíveis: cansar de jogar e se desiludir completamente com o amor ou cansar de jogar e se contentar com um que não preencha os requisitos para poder continuar com o sonho. Até que um dia o sonho acaba. Isso quer dizer que o amor não existe ou que perdemos nossa capacidade de amar? Nenhum dos dois... Eu fui ao cinema sem saber o que esperar... na primeira cena, um casal caminha um em direção ao outro com uma música na qual só consegui prestar atenção no trecho "I can't take my eyes off you", que se repete incessantemente enquanto os dois não conseguem mesmo tirar os olhos um do outro. Até que, por esse mesmo motivo, ela é atropelada. Algumas feridas. Dói. Mas ela vai sobreviver. No final, a mesma música. Mas após um casal desfeito e outro unido pela comodidade e a covardia, passamos a prestar atenção em outros trechos da música: "life goes easy on me, most of the time" e "no love, no glory, no hero in her sky". Quem consegue encontrar o chão depois disso? Onde poderemos nos segurar? É isso que acontece quando se chega perto demais. Quando nos envolvemos, nos entregamos, nos tornamos vulneráveis. Quem vai querer isso quando se pode ter a segurança da superficialidade, dos sonhos pré-fabricados? Eu quero! Talvez eu seja um pouco masoquista. Mas precisamos ser um pouco para querer viver. Dói, mas a gente sobrevive. Evitar a dor é evitar viver. Eu vivi por muito tempo no meu mundinho, meu refúgio. Construí do jeito que eu quis. E construí também um senso de self. Eu sabia exatamente quem eu era, do que eu gostava, o que me deixava triste, o que deixava alegre, o que me trazia certezas e o que me fazia duvidar. E sem sair de lá eu só observava o jogo superficial, preferia só sonhar... era mais seguro ainda. Até que resolvi brincar um pouco... mas não sei jogar esse jogo... ganhando ou perdendo eu sempre perdia... perdia a chance de sentir alguma coisa. Até que um dia, sem perceber, fui parar em um relacionamento como o de Closer e percebi o efeito que a vulnerabilidade tinha em mim. Descobri sentimentos que até então desconhecia. Experimentei raiva, rancor, ódio, dor, muita dor. E vi que poderia ser tão egoísta a ponto de ferir sem perceber. E quando eu percebia doía muito mais em mim. Mas ao mesmo tempo eu ia descobrindo também a enorme capacidade que eu tinha de me doar. De colocar a felicidade do outro antes das minhas vontades - e descobrir que isso me trazia muito mais felicidade do que satisfazer as minhas vontades. De acreditar na humanidade. De poder fazer absolutamente qualquer coisa. E entre expectativas e decepções, meu humor oscilava em uma velocidade incrível. E alguém que sempre teve dificuldade para expressar os sentimentos passou a ter uma enorme dificuldade para escondê-los. Minha vida era um turbilhão de emoções e eu não tinha mais nenhum controle sobre elas. Mas, Drummond estava certo, a dor é inevitável, o sofrimento é opcional. A gente sofre até quando a gente se permite sofrer. Eu sofria porque eu estava cega. Eu não tinha entendido ainda. O que eu sabia sobre mim era muito pouco... "Só através dos olhos dos outros posso ter acesso à minha própria essência, ainda que temporária" (Sartre). Eu preciso do outro. Só no meu mundinho, eu não consigo ter acesso a quem eu sou e o que sou capaz de fazer pelos outros. Eu estava aprendendo a amar. O amor não é esse produto pronto que cabe numa caixa de bombons. O amor é um sentimento forte, poderoso, que nos deixa totalmente expostos, nos obrigando a aprender a confiar. Confiar que o amor por si só já vale a pena... não podemos esperar algo em troca, não podemos ter certeza que não nos deixarão, não podemos esperar satisfazer nossas expectativas, não podemos esperar que façam sempre o que faríamos naquela situação, porque não sabemos ao certo o que faríamos em qualquer situação... o mundo que funciona na nossa cabeça, só funciona na nossa cabeça. Não devemos acabar com o nosso mundo, mas descobrir como conhecer o mundo dos outros pode transformá-lo... sem medo... a gente sobrevive sempre... e cada vez melhor... o amor vem acompanhado de uma série de outros sentimentos que só com muito treino a gente aprende a controlar. E é isso que quero. A oportunidade de poder treinar. Talvez eu passe a vida inteira para aprender a amar. E quero encontrar várias raposas querendo ser cativadas e vários pequenos príncipes querendo cativar. Não para nos completarmos e vivermos felizes para sempre, mas para juntos aprendermos a amar. De várias maneiras... Há tantas formas de amar e tantas formas de demonstrar esse amor. E construiremos mundos juntos... Há vários mundos possíveis também... Mas isso só é possível de perto... bem de perto.

My Weekend Crush

If you judge a person by the company she keeps, then Amanda Seyfried is critically-acclaimed, funny and hot. Hmm, guess you can judge a person by the company she keeps. The 24-year-old actress has shared the screen with Meryl Streep, Julianne Moore, Vanessa Redgrave, Robin Wright Penn, Holly Hunter, Tina Fey and Megan Fox. Granted, that last association is probably most notable for the kissing. In 2010 she has not one, not two, not three but four films coming out – “Chloe” (with Julianne), “Letters to Juliet” (with Vanessa), “Dear John” and “Marmaduke” (yes, as in the dog – they can’t all be award contenders).

There is an inherent sweetness behind those big eyes. But as much as they could out doe a doe, there is also a flicker underneath that speaks of so much more. I’m particularly looking forward to the new dramatic thrilled “Chloe.” First, it’s by Atom Egoyan whose movies are always arresting and was also one of the first to introduce the world to Mia Kirshner – and in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit no less. Second, it co-stars Julianne and Liam Neeson. Third, it stars Amanda as a prostitute who just might seduce them both. And finally, it’s got this poster. See what I was saying about a flicker? Happy weekend, all.