CAMP: Having deliberately artificial, vulgar, banal, or affectedly humorous qualities or style.
– American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition

There was one point in this week’s season finale of Nip/Tuck where I almost started to believe that the episode was going to end with Christian – whose dream sequence started this disaster of a television season – waking up from the nightmare that was this season. Like claiming virgin birth, after Newhart saying “it was all a dream” isn’t really something anyone else can do. But still, for a moment there, I was convinced it was the only explanation.

The entire episode – truly the whole season – was pretty goofy. But always in a way that suggested bad writing, lazy scripting, and a show that basically blew its wad back in its first season. It had never before occurred to me that the thing was deliberately bad, purposely surreal.

Until we got to the final confrontation scene, really two scenes, both with hostages and forced torture. Both utterly, unspeakably dumb. And both backed by an insipid, almost circus-like soundtrack. I’ve no idea what the song was, actually I’ve no desire to find out. It was upbeat and silly, almost. Entirely inappropriate for the brutality of the actions taking place on screen. And it occurred to me: Wow, it’s all been a scam. Christian is going to wake up with some bimbo next to him wondering why he’s making such strange noises in his sleep. It’s the only explanation. Professional writers can’t possible be this bad. Professional actors wouldn’t stand for it. Professional directors wouldn’t direct it. A network wouldn’t put this on TV unless it’s all a joke. It was all camp. I was sure.

But no. The joke was on me. It really was that bad. It was camp, just the writers didn’t intend it that way.

Somewhere there is the person who made the decision to play that song over that scene and he or she almost certainly believes the scene is a spectacular success in the tradition of Reservoir Dogs.

I’ve not yet decided what shocks me more: How bad a debacle this season was or, as I heard today, that there are those who think the season finale was a spectacular cap to the show’s finest season. Pardon me while I puke.

Irony

What was my first spoken (though I was alone in my car, I often talk back to the radio) reaction when I heard on Tuesday evening about this decision handed down in the Pennsylvania "Intelligent Design" trial?

"Thank God."

I already had one response to Lisa's comment that I added as a comment on the previous post, but I had another thought about what she said and it's better as a separate entry than another overlong comment.

Lisa pointed out her lack of tolerance for conservatives who overvalue their own importance, and while I can certainly agree with that point, I tend to think the problem is perhaps not so much with those (probably relatively few) who have the opinions. The problem is the journalism that leads us to believe such opinions are valid, common, and worth discussing.

At least for me, the problem with journalism isn't that there's so much "bad news" out there or that I don't find them credible. The problem to me is the horserace. It's conflict. Journalism is built around conflict to some extent, sure, but most issues (especially the opening of a movie for crying out loud) are nowhere near as divisive as media coverage would have us believe.

Any lazy journalist knows he can reliably get a spicy quote from an extremist on either side of an issue. It's an easy story, but it's lazy journalism. It's writing about issues like horseraces (who wins and who loses) rather than like actual issues with subtexts and complexities and consequences that have nothing to do with "who wins."

It's pretty inexcusable that our elections and wars are reported in this way, but it's an especially sad commentary that even entertainment news now gets the horserace treatment.

Bearing that in mind is how I have managed to stay sane over the past few years. Is it miserabe to have to hear over and over again about Cindy Sheehan? God yes it is. And is it awful to have to hear unending griping from "the Christian right" about the decaying values of Halloywood? Indeed so. But those who make the loudest noise are generally furthest from the actual crowd. That doesn't excuse the incompetence of those people, but remembering that has kept me from pulling my hair out over the past couple of years.

A meandering and (toward the end) sentimental post

Here's the poster you've probably seen for Brokeback Mountain.



So, then, what's this?



According to this site it's a new ad for the movie. But I had never seen it before. And it really pissed me off. I was all fired up to write this blog about the idiocy of trying to de-gay a gay movie and misrepresentation of potentially offensive topics in general.

And then I thought, "You know. I'm not sure even Hollywood executives are stupid enough to try to promote a gay movie with a poster of a nuclear family." Besides, it didn't really look like a poster, or even a traditional ad.

Turns out it's not a traditional ad, but it's one of several industry promos being sent out to Academy voters with the Oscar package. And since both of the females are supposedly contenders for award nominations it's only natural to put some pictures of them in the promo packs.

Which means that those who are showing off the second ad and screaming about hypocrisy are either (a) irresponsible and stupid or (b) hypocrites themselves. In this case, it's probably A, but even the possibility of B annoys the heck out of me.

From conservatives who rail against abortion but really don't want Roe v Wade overturned lest that disappear as a campaign issue to liberals who denounce the war in Iraq but nonetheless see the loss of American lives there as a chance for political gain, there are far too many examples of dishonest hypocrisy in the world today.

This is why I more and more admire people who at least truly believe in their convictions, even if I don't happen to agree with their opinions. John McCain is the best example. In reality, he and I disagree on far more issues than we share common ground on. But I don't care, really. I think more highly of him than I do of virtually any other politician. I voted for him for his senator position (as if that mattered) and would honestly be tempted to vote for him for President. Even though I don't like his politics, for the most part.

But I'm digressing, because this wasn't meant to be a political discussion. My real point is, in this year when I've read roughly 3,462 articles about how Hollywood is hurting the box office slump goes on, I can't recall reading a single article that suggests the main reason things are going badly: bullshit.

Most articles talk about absurdly high ticket prices (true) and bad product (true). But people always complain about prices and there have always been shitty movies. The problem is the great extent to which we are now aware that even Hollywood executives know they're putting out shit. And yet they still promote it. Does anyone really believe that there was a single person involved in the making of "Stealth" that thought it would be (a) a good movie and (b) a successful one? Of course not. And yet the budget to promote that piece of trash would have been front page news if it were a lottery prize.

So Hollywood is full of shit. We've all long suspected this, and now we have proof. Indeed, as the example I used to start this blog proves, we now tend to think Hollywood is even more full (?) of shit than they really are.

Cynicism is healthy. But a bleak world view isn't. I still believe in convictions and faith and being willing to trust others, even strangers. I think that used to be typical. More recently, it was at least something we all tried to encourage at this time of the year. Now even Christmas is regarded with a skeptical eye. It's a shame.

"The opposite of war isn’t peace – it’s creation"

You know, I think there’s far too little dancing on tables. Seriously, wouldn’t life just be a little more exciting if from time to time some people on the street, or in the restaurant on the corner, or in your apartment building just burst on in full song and dance? Tell me that wouldn’t rock. (So long as it’s not induced by a demon, right Xander?)

That’s just one of the things I loved about Rent. (Yes, I saw it last night and so, yes, I’m going to write about it. Again. Just let me do this, though, and maybe I’ll get it out of my system.)

I loved the way everyone seemed to be a part of the real world, even when they broke out in song. It was charming and also seemed to work with the whole “we’re bohemian artists” thing that Rent tries so hard to champion.

I really liked the movie overall actually. There were some things I didn’t like, but virtually all of those were things that are problems with the musical – not really the movie’s fault. (Which is to say, the ending still sucks.)

I got a kick out of the dialogue, which was virtually all from the actual play – except in the play they would sing it, not speak it. Sometimes it was awkward and I really wanted them to be singing it, but I still got a kick out of it. Like a big in-joke for people crazy enough to actually recognize it. I wonder if, as dialogue, those lines seemed poorly written or forced to people who don’t know the play that well. Then again, I doubt very much if this movie succeeds at all for people who don’t already know it. That’s normally a big problem for me – generally I think movies need to be movies and not be overly concerned with their source material. But here it didn’t bother me. Maybe because I am a big fan of Rent. Maybe because I frankly doubt if the audience for the movie is much beyond those who have seen the show already anyway.

The only other thing wrong with the movie, I thought, was the strange section where the first half of Act 2 should have been … except suddenly we were no longer in a musical at all and we had that completely pointless scene with Alexi Darling. Stupid. And for that we get denied “Happy New Year,” “We’re OK,” and “Contact”? Harsh.

Otherwise, wow. So many of the songs were done so well. “Rent” is not really a song I love that much but by the end of that song I was sold on the project completely. “One Song Glory” was amazing. “Tango Maureen” kicked my ass. (I wasn’t much for the way “Out Tonight” started in the club, but it was redeemed at the end). And, of course, “I’ll Cover You” was just amazingly perfect – the reprise especially. God that part of the story just kills me. Someone explain to me how the same writer who could write that scene, which is so perfect, could also massacre the ending and Mimi’s death/recovery so badly? I’ll never get it. (Maybe if Larson hadn’t died it could have been tweaked and made better?)

Putting “Seasons of Love” at the beginning was a great decision, too. I already wrote about how much I love that song as a sort of Greek Chorus and to have the cast singing it to an empty theatre as the opening scene … it just worked.

And the cast was excellent. Pretty much the entire original cast was back, except for (I think) Mimi and Joanne. Rosario Dawson was so-so as Mimi but I thought Joanne was wonderful. The woman can sing. And of course the original cast is the standard, not to mention the voices everyone is used to hearing from the CD. Best of all, of course, is Jesse L Martin who frankly has the voice of God.

And I was afraid I wouldn’t like it. Sheesh.

Addendum:

It was so hard to sit in the theatre and not sing along and, at times, to not applaud some of the really great song numbers. It's a musical, you're supposed to applaud. The singing thing was especially awkward. I propose an idea to whoever has the rights to the show and might want to try a new twist: "Rent" as rock concert. Perform the show not as a musical, but as the singalong fest it so often years to be. I know I would go.

One of many reasons Thanksgiving break was great this year

I’m not really a big fan of biopics. Partly this is the result of my previously expressed affection for the power of fiction to be more true than reality. Partly it’s because I think even the most interesting lives lack any kind of engaging narrative arc. So, even though they look to be good and worthwhile films and even though I’m not uninterested in their subjects, I have never seen Ray, or Ali, or Gandhi, etc etc. I rented The Aviator which was interesting to watch (mostly thanks to Cate Blanchett) but excruciatingly boring as a movie. And I want to see Walk the Line because I’m a Johnny Cash fan but I don’t ultimately expect it to be one of my favorite movies.

But despite all that I want to plug a biopic that I saw over Thanksgiving, because I’ve seen a lot of movies this fall and most were high quality but so far this was the best: Capote.

It’s different than a typical biopic, which is part of why it worked so well for me. It’s based on a full length biography of Truman Capote, but the film focuses exclusively on the three or so years he was working on his masterpiece, the “non fiction novel” In Cold Blood.

Disclaimer: I’m a sucker for this story. Like The Insider or Good Night, and Good Luck (both of which are amazing movies in my book) I feel a little uncertain in recommending Capote because part of why I like it so much is because I’m personally so interested in it, and I’m not certain that everyone else would be so naturally fascinated. (In the case of Capote, my fascination is based on writing in general and In Cold Blood in particular, in the other two movies it’s my interest in journalism.)

I read In Cold Blood in high school and until seeing the movie remembered little of it specifically. What I did remember was the reaction it provoked in me: I mean, the book just floored me. Stunned me. It’s such a masterpiece. I had only a short time earlier read the famous account of the Manson crimes Helter Skelter and while that’s a fine book, reading it was like reading a lengthy piece of journalism. It didn’t engage me emotionally. This is part of why In Cold Blood is so spectacular – it really is like a novel, and is written by a writer who at his best is as good as any American writer of the last century. But the story itself is also just shocking. Even in the late 90s I found myself just stunned by the brutality and the senselessness of the crime. I remember thinking: If this book feels like a punch in the gut to me now, what must it have been like to read it in the comparatively innocent 1960s?

Although it doesn’t tell the full story of his life, Capote really is a biopic. In showing us a mere three years of his life, it somehow manages to tell the full story of his life. We see Capote in New York, famous, worldly, flaming. We hear bits and pieces of his background. And we see the pain and the start of the depression and alcoholism that would ultimately cut his life short. Writing In Cold Blood essentially killed Truman Capote. Even though he lived another 20 or so years he never published another book. He was never the same person.

The movie makes it clear why. Primarily, the movie likes to focus on his very complicated relationship with one of the killers, who is awesomely portrayed by the guy who was the drug dealer in Rules of Attraction. He felt an affinity for the man, who had a haunting background that reminded Truman of his own. But he was also terrified of the killer, with good reason. And he needed him, too, and used him in a very deliberate and conscious fashion to get the information he needed for his book.

Now I’m re-reading the book and it’s interesting to see that he must have had a similar (if surely less painful) conflicted relationship with Kansas, the setting for the book, the scene of the crime. Capote was a flamingly gay, completely urban snob. If we’re to believe the movie (and it makes sense) he laughed with almost a sneer at small town Kansas and its conservative values. And yet, the book seems to celebrate those values as sincerely as if Truman had been born and raised and lived there all his life. It’s an effective narrative device (the narrator of In Cold Blood doesn’t seem to really be Truman Capote any more than it would be in one of his fiction stories). But it’s also scary, because after getting very close to this small town and the people in it, he exploited them. Some of his depictions and descriptions of the people in the book are downright cruel. Others are caring. That’s the way it should be with characters – except these were real people who, inevitably, had to read what this man had written about them.

Anyway, Philip Seymour Hoffman just inhabits Capote. They always say that about actors portraying real people, don’t they? But he does. Like I said, I don’t see a lot of biopics, but let me give you the example of one I did see recently. In The Aviator, Leonardo DiCaprio played Howard Hughes. But I always saw DiCaprio on screen. Blanchett played Katharine Hepburn and she was Katharine Hepburn. She inhabited her. I watched the movie and saw Hepburn there. Hoffman does that with Capote. He’s not like himself at all. It’s not just his voice, or his mannerisms. It’s everything. I know he played a gay character in Boogie Nights, too, but you could hardly believe he’s the same actor. Bravo to him. (I though Catherine Keener as Harper Lee was also great and I’ve never seen Chris Cooper in anything I didn’t think he was great in.)

Diana said she thought it dragged in parts and she’s probably right (she did seem to really like it despite that note). I can’t insist you go see it. It’s a quiet and deliberate movie. There are scenes (one in particular comes to mind) that really do drag on, but they left me utterly transfixed. But if you’re not engaged they will seem overlong and boring. There aren’t many flashbacks or cinematic devices. There are a lot of POV shots. It worked for me. If you don’t go in wanting to see the movie, though, it may well leave you uninspired. But for me it was the best thing I’ve seen in quite a while.