In defense of Two and a Half Men

The Internet's most unpopular title card.

I can feel the bullet wounds already.

Somewhere between the time Two and a Half Men became the highest-rated sitcom in America and to the time Two and a Half Men remained the highest-rated sitcom in America, it has become cool to hate the show.

In a recent bout of depression, I finally watched a rerun in its entirety. I pretty much live on syndication. And it wasn't too bad. In fact, I watched other episodes and they weren't completely horrible either. I don't even remember why I hated it so much in the first place other than the fact that, while channel-surfing, it seemed really stupid. I am about to swallow my words.

Let's acknowledge what most of the Internet (15 to 35 year olds) and I agree about this show: It's not brilliant, it's not groundbreaking, it's not special, it's probably aimed at ordinary, middle-aged men and 10 year boys (your parents and your baby nephew), it's surprising that it's the number one sitcom in America, and it has more cheap potty humor than it should have.

But here's what we disagree on: I find it rather endearing, entertaining, full of potential, and occasionally, very funny. Shoot me, please.

I don't understand how anyone can fault the actors in the show because they are not the problem. The Emmys seem to agree with me.

Sheen was painfully bland in his Golden Globe-winning (?!) performance as Michael J. Fox's replacement in Spin City, but in his own vehicle, he is a reliable lead. His acting style epitomizes the title of Jason Alexander's book in the Curb Your Enthusiasm episode, Acting Without Acting. Having said that, Sheen does a very good, effortless job of playing himself, minus the more controversial aspects of his real-life self. Comedians have been playing caricatures of themselves for years and while Sheen is not a comedian, he is pretty funny in the show by being a self-centered, often drunk, irresponsible, lazy bastard, commitment-phobe jingle writer with some sort of questionable heart.

Considering all the negative reaction to Jon Cryer's Supporting Actor Emmy win last year (and nomination this year), I wonder: Has anyone actually seen Jon Cryer's performance in Two and a Half Men? Cryer, as Alan, Charlie's divorced chiropractic brother, is technically co-lead, but submitting himself in the supporting category is basically a stroke of genius. While the point of being a "supporting actor" is to impress the audience with limited screen time, Sheen will always be seen as the real "star" of the show. Especially since Cryer's paycheck is almost half of Sheen's.

So back to my original question: Is the quality of Cryer's performance really so much worse than Jack McBrayer (30 Rock), Tracy Morgan (30 Rock), Kevin Dillon (Entourage), Neil Patrick Harris (How I Met Your Mother), and Rainn Wilson (The Office)? I've seen all the performances except for Dillon's in Entourage, and Cryer's doesn't pale so much in comparison. While Harris was widely considered to be robbed that year, and yes, Harris is a fine actor, but his performance doesn't strike me as so much more superior than the performances of his fellow nominees. Harris now has two Emmys, anyway.

However, Cryer's performance conveys all the anguish of a desperate, self-pitying, middle-aged loser trying to cope with the dating scene and the antics of his playboy brother. A George Costanza with morals.

Angus T. Jones as Alan's son, Jake, is very good. In the earlier seasons, Jake is pretty much there to be confused about the sexual double entendres, but he watches and learns. Is that appropriate? Well, Jones' parents seem to approve. Jones is much more natural than most Disney child stars and has chemistry with all the actors in the show, except that as he ages, he seems to lack an essential father-son rapport with Cryer. As Jake ages, his dialogue is dumbed down to miserable potty humor, but Jones manages to surprisingly deliver his lines with an odd deadbeat charm.

This show has often been criticized by many for its portrayal of women. Yes, the women who comes in and out of Charlie's life are often shown as bimbos. Guess what? Bimbos exist. And there are also men who objectify women. Charlie is one of those men. And these women voluntarily, willingly sleep with Charlie. Those kind of women also exist and those kind of men certainly don't mind.

But the other regular female characters on this show are far from being bimobs. Yes, they are flawed, but again, who isn't?

Judith (Marin Hinkle), Alan's ex-wife, is probably the most unsympathetic recurring female character. Judith divorces Alan because she's questioning her sexuality and after the divorce, she makes Alan pay for everything because she doesn't seem to have a job. But besides her obvious bitchiness, she does seem like a good mother who cares about what is best for her son.

Evelyn (Holland Taylor), Charlie and Alan's promiscuous mother, is a strong, independent woman. Evelyn's dominance of the Harper household--after her husband's suicide--is probably what sways her sons to weaker, more docile women. It makes sense. Taylor's multiple Emmy nominations are due to the fact that she's a masterful scene stealer. Her false attempts to spend time with her grandson, only to roll her eyes at an episode SpongeBob SquarePants and proclaim that "Life's too short" is the stuff comedic wonders are made of.

Berta (Conchata Ferrell), Charlie's housekeeper, is also a strong, independent woman who is able to get the job done and keep the family in place. And some people believe Berta's character is demeaning because she's a unpleasant, overweight maid. While she's not a young hot thing, she's sensible and cuts all the bullshit. Ferrell adds a dose of magic to even the simplest line readings. Even to something as simple as "Bite me."

I am particularly impressed with Melanie Lynskey's performance as Rose, Charlie's stalker and Jake's occasional babysitter. While Rose is probably one of the most manipulative, disturbing characters that has ever graced television, I don't think I can ever hate her. Lynskey plays her with such innocence, sweetness, sharpness, and wonderful comedic timing that it's a surprise that the writers never bothered to expand her role. Every time she is on screen, she brings the best out of all the actors. Lynskey (and this show) manages to make a stalker work as a character and a potential love interest.

The story lines for the episodes has often been criticized as being "unoriginal," "repetitive," and "formulaic." Here are some sample story lines:

- Charlie meets up with an old flame, only to find out that she has undergone a sex change (and is now Chris O'Donnell). They agree to be friends. When the ex-girlfriend--now a man--meets Evelyn, they end up dating. Charlie and Alan need to decide how to break the news to their mother.

- Chelsea, Charlie's girlfriend then fiancee, sets Alan up on a blind date. Charlie and Alan soon realize at the restaurant that Alan's blind date is Rose. Rose proceeds to pretend that she doesn't know the men and Charlie and Alan play along.

- At first, Rose's father (Martin Sheen) seems like an authoritative man. When he becomes too attached to Evelyn, Rose comes in and deals with her father, who seems to show the same mental instabilities that Rose possess.

These are arguably solid sitcom story lines. Sure, these story lines aren't complex or clever, but they're mildly creative, simple, and fun.

The jokes are a different story. Some of the jokes are sometimes just tasteless, many are predictable. There is a conversation in the season seven finale where Jake describes what he does to his butt and compares it to a hot dog; Sheen's disgusted reaction looks extraordinarily genuine.

Creators Chuck Lorre and Lee Aronsohn are above that kind of humor. I know that because the story lines are occasionally creative, the dialogue is occasionally witty and sharp, and I see random bursts of brilliance in this show all over the place. But its good qualities are not being embraced or harvested. It's like CBS comes in and tells Lorre and Aronsohn that the show is a big hit with a particular demographic--the mainstream blue collar/middle-aged men and 10 year old boys--and as condescending douchebags, they convince Lorre and Aronsohn to add in a penis joke here and a fart joke there. Because apparently, the mainstream cannot live without those.

But I don't know what 10 year boys like. Maybe 10 year boys do like fart jokes. I don't know.

The thing about Two and a Half Men is that it's one of the few network sitcoms right now that's not "cute." It doesn't aspire to be cute, unlike Lorre and Aronsohn's other project, The Big Bang Theory. Two and a Half Men appeals to the beer-drinking, working class forty-something and the sons of those beer-drinking, working class forty-somethings. That's a large part of America, if ratings prove anything.

Still, it breaks my heart seeing all the potential go to waste. This is a show that could be about a goofy, modern family unit that could only exist in sitcom-verse--the matriarch, the polar opposite brothers, the son of an unconventional family, the ex-wife, the ex-wife's husband, the maid, the stalker, the occasional new girlfriend, etc. While the show isn't clever, it certainly has a clever set of characters.

There are sitcoms that are as good as they ever going to get. This show could be so much more than the cheap, disposable humor wasteland it sometimes is. Take away all the potty humor and here's a show with tons of potential. Yeah, I like this show for what it could be more than what it is. But haters can hate. And I know there are a lot of you guys out there.

Seinfeld vs. Friends vs. Frasier

30 Rock and The Office may be critical darlings, but are they Must-See TV material? They got nothing on the powerhouses that are Seinfeld, Friends, and Frasier. Just sayin'.

When you're an unemployed recent high school graduate, like myself, you will most likely be spending your weekday nights watching syndicated reruns of Seinfeld, Friends, and Frasier on your local FOX affiliate, instead of partying it up with booze and blowing your parents' money off at the local cineplex. Right? Yes, absolutely! Nineties sitcoms are so in!

Moving on from socially acceptable norms, I want to talk about what I've been doing to occupy all the free time I have. I've been doing mostly nothing but mindlessly watching television and filling out applications for minimum wage employment. The former is much more enjoyable and a better topic for discussion.

So every night from 9pm to 11pm, I watch Seinfeld, Friends, and Frasier, in that order. It is arguably the most amazing two hours of comedy on television right now. In a way, it's almost like a time capsule that brings the golden age of NBC's Must-See TV to 2010. Unfortunately, this comparison would be much more clever if Seinfeld, Friends, and Frasier ever aired on the same Thursday night (only Friends and Frasier did).

I'm just living in the past and I'm not ashamed of it!

It is only natural to compare these shows. In my world where nothing is ever fair, there is always a clear-cut winner.

For anyone following my Twitter, they know I love the f--- out of Seinfeld. So there's already no competition. But I'll try to keep the discussion alive the best I can.

Greatest show ever...if you're part of the Baby Boomer Generation or Generation X. Or you're just part of it in spirit.

Seinfeld is one of the most original, unique, inventive sitcoms I've ever seen. In the last twelve years since it has gone off the air, no other show has had such a spectacular cultural impact or an eye so keen for clever social commentary. It relies on no reliable formula. It's completely unconventional. The characters are all bursts of wondrous comedic creativity and so brilliantly played by Jerry Seinfeld, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Michael Richards, and Jason Alexander (ROBBED SO BADLY FOR AN EMMY). It's so witty, so quotable, and almost always hysterical.

Not only do I tune into Seinfeld at 9pm, but also at 7:30pm, and sometimes at 11pm, where they rerun the episode that aired at 9pm. There are some episodes that are so funny that they demand to be seen twice in one day.

It hasn't always been like this, though. I used to find Seinfeld loud and obnoxious, unfunny and unamusing, and generally tasteless. But, for some absurd reason, I would always tell my fellow friends that I preferred Seinfeld over Friends. I think that was the rebel inside of me at work, trying desperately to be different. But truthfully, as much as I enjoyed Friends, I've always found it overrated--more on that later.

I sympathized with Seinfeld, though, even though it's a show with complete and utter cultural relevance and is one of the most successful television sitcoms ever made. But I sympathized with it because my dear ol' Generation Y just didn't get it. I, for one, wished I did.

That was just fate at work, of course, because after my numerous declarations of a preference for Seinfeld over Friends, I actually began to enjoy some of the episodes that I would often catch while channel-surfing. (I guess this is a prime example of becoming what you say you are.) I remember thinking that "The Handicap Spot" and "The Bizzaro Jerry" are absolutely hilarious and brilliant. The episodes that truly got me hooked were "The Fusilli Jerry," "The Pitch," and "The Engagement." There was no turning back after seeing those episodes. The structure is brilliant--everything just ties together in the end, in the most unique, unpredictable way possible.

Seinfeld is notorious for being a self-labeled "show about nothing." And in a way, yes, George Costanza knew what he was talking about. But in the finale, George sums up the show perfectly by telling the NBC executives, "I really don't think so-called relationship humor is what this show is all about." And surprisingly, George is once again correct. While Friends is about marriages, divorces, hook-ups, break-ups, pregnancies, babies, and other genuinely emotional life events, Seinfeld is about muffin tops, pudding skins, soup, man-hands, puffy shirts, big salads, and ultimately, itself.

In Seinfeld's most thoughtful seventh season where George--the jackass, the loser, the Average Joe--gets engaged to a relatively decent woman, yet he spends the rest of the season trying to get out of the engagement so he could pursue other women. The show takes the entire relationship formula and throws it out the window.

But that is the core of Seinfeld: it's about selfish, miserable people whose plans often get destroyed by karma. That's why Jerry and Elaine were never meant to be, though they were perfect for each other (I'm not the only fan who thinks this, right?). But the characters are incredibly human and surprisingly warm (at times) to those in their inner circle.

Jerry Seinfeld said it best: "There's a great warmth beneath the surface of these characters. Just the fact that we forgive each other shows you that."

Those are all the qualities that made Seinfeld click with me, and perhaps the 76 million people that watched the finale (and the many that hated it). The show addressed things that are universal and often made it one giant inside joke for the fans that tuned in week after week (and oh how I wished I could have experienced that).

However, it's also a beautifully nihilistic reflection of the minituae. While some believed the show epitomized New York, it's a fine representation of misery, frustration, and disappointment from any part of the world. And there's the absurd humor ready to be dissected from it all.

There will never be another show like Seinfeld. Some people believe Curb Your Enthusiasm is the present-day Seinfeld and it's definitely comparable, being the brainchild of Seinfeld co-creator, Larry David, but it's a little too formulaic to be "better" than Seinfeld.

Seinfeld is inimitable. And I even liked the finale.

Greatest show ever if you're a fifteen year old girl. Just kidding!

Speaking of imitation, I believe that every generation needs their own Friends. I mean this is as a compliment. I believe that every decade or so, Friends should be remade. So while How I Met Your Mother is technically Friends, its unoriginal premise is not offensive because every generation needs a Friends! (But honestly, I can't care for How I Met Your Mother because I've already seen most of the last ten seasons of Friends. Does anyone else feel that way too? Or do you think How I Met Your Mother's quirks, wits, and Neil Patrick Harris make up for the fact that it's basically a pseudo Friends rip-off?)

I have a love-hate relationship with Friends, as you might have guessed. Friends is the first sitcom I fell in love with. My mom used to watch it in syndication and on Thursday nights on NBC. I would watch it with her and I thought it was relatively funny and cool because when you're ten, funny and cool pretty much makes a show gold.

Unlike Seinfeld, Friends is a certified "relationships show." The show often hinges on whether or not Ross (David Schwimmer) and Rachel (Jennifer Aniston) get together in the end or when will the whole group find out about Chandler (Matthew Perry) and Monica's (Courteney Cox) secret relationship, etc. It's a show that centers its whole existence on the idea of life's great emotional events.

But that's exactly why it's popular. That's why it's still many of my friends' favorite show ever. I get it!

Watching Friends as an eighteen-year-old, it's like watching the show with a brand new pair of eyes. I notice the infantile humor, the unacknowledged, uncalculated, accidental emotional immaturity of the characters (Seinfeld's characters can be immature, but Friends' characters are just plain stupid sometimes), the unbelievably moronic tendencies of its male characters (I know girls like it when they feel dominant towards the opposite sex, but do you really like guys who just don't have a clue?), and the emotional manipulation. Friends feels like a chick flick exclusively made for fifteen year old girls.

Yet I feel incredible warmth when I hear the iconic "I'll Be There For You" theme song and see the cast frolicking in the fountain. I feel completely nostalgic whenever I watch an episode because here is a show I used to love--it's like visiting an old friend.

I saw "The One Hundredth" the other day and there was that moment in the end where Phoebe (Lisa Kudrow) looks at her triplets and tells them how much she wishes she could see them everyday. And while I may hate Friends for its blindly cartoonish, immature antics, there are certainly some very sweet moments that just hits all the right notes.

I remember watching the finale live back in 2004. It is one of the most crowd-pleasing television finales I've seen. While the Seinfeld finale remains controversial to this day, the Friends finale left its fans with just the right amount of smiles and tears. I knew twelve-year-old me choked up at the sight of the empty apartment. At the time, I already spent the past three seasons watching Friends every Thursday night at 8pm. I actually feel chills just thinking about the last scenes of Friends.

Call it emotional manipulation or pulling of the heartstrings or whatever you want, but Friends has a damn good finale, which makes watching the reruns more satisfying because I know everything will turn out alright.

But then again, there's Joey, starring Matt LeBlanc. Which I find underrated, but still relatively lame.

Some say that there are two different types of people in the world: Those who prefer Friends and those who prefer Seinfeld. But I wonder if there is a certain type that prefers Frasier, or is Frasier the one show that unites all...?

Greatest show ever if you're a senior citizen. Or if you appreciate wisdom. Or both.

I just started watching Frasier a month ago, so I'm not a Frasier Expert yet.

Up until recently, I thought Frasier was a show made exclusively for old intellectuals who read Proust, Shakespeare, and Joyce on a daily basis. I've never seen an entire episode and every time it came on, I just switched the channel immediately. Well, I recently decided to give it a try and thought it was just hilarious. So lesson learned: Never judge a book by its cover.

While the so-called warmth in Friends can feel shallow and superficial at times, the writing in Frasier is so crisp, so clever, so witty, so touching that no wonder it's one of the most awarded sitcoms of all-time. While the humor is intellectual, it's not inaccessible to the ordinary person.

The sibling rivalry between Frasier and Niles Crane is often hysterical and they are even more hysterical when they have to work together. I was watching "The Show Must Go Off" the other day and the chemistry between Kelsey Grammer and David Hyde Pierce (who, along with Michael Richards, stole all of Jason Alexander's Emmys, but who can blame him?) is unbelievable. Not only do they have an uncanny resemblance, they really are convincing as brothers. And, of course, David Jacobi is excellent as an ex-Shakespearean theater actor turned sour.

The on-and-off relationship between Niles and physical therapist Daphne Moon (Jane Leeves) really is the sweetest thing. While Ross and Rachel may be the king and queen of the television on-and-off relationship of recent times, Niles and Daphne are so endearing, so sweet that Ross and Rachel can't even hold a candle to their relationship. Niles' nerdy longing for Daphne is funny and heartbreaking, wonderful and romantic.

The rest of the supporting cast--Peri Gilpin and John Mahoney--are a charming pleasure.

I can definitely see Frasier as a no-contest favorite in the future, but for now, I am just enjoying the journey of spending my weeknights with these wonderful, funny characters.

But right now, Seinfeld is the clear-cut winner. Its warmth is subtle. Its frustrations and comedy are blatant and endless. For a show that lets all romantic relationships slip through its fingers, it's a show I relate to and feel for the most. It's the show I feel the most affinity for. And I'm not even a lifelong New Yorker, though I was born there. That must be why.

So I direct this question to those who trespass: Seinfeld, Friends, or Frasier? And why?

If I Were a Rich Man

Andrew is hosting a musical blog-a-thon at his awesome blog, Encore's World of Film & TV. He sent me an e-mail several weeks ago informing me about it and due to some healthy procrastination, it took me a while, but here it is...

Bruce Springsteen once described hearing Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" for the first time as "somebody'd kicked open the door to your mind," and while I can't agree more, that's also precisely the way I feel about Fiddler on the Roof.

Underneath all that moronic suburban glitz I grew up with, I always had great respect for traditional values of my own and others. They may be wrong or right, but they exist. It's all very inevitable and very much in need of toleration.

That said, Fiddler is often tragically forgotten by movie musical enthusiasts.

While its professions of faith, family, and Jewish traditions may not be the rule of thumb of twenty-first century cynicism, there is a overwhelming warmth to Teyve's (Chaim Topol), the protagonist, eagerness to keep on living the way life has always been and when he realizes that life cannot always simply be, it's a moment of the cold, hard truth that is worthy of sympathy.

There are few films that combine humor and drama as brilliantly as Fiddler does. Teyve's conversations with God are funny, simply because they are so honest and so human. When Teyve rejects her daughter for marrying a Russian Orthodox, it's particularly heartbreaking because Teyve loves her so much, yet he feels a duty to preserve a tradition he cares so deeply about. He's not always right, but I feel for him.

The film is ultimately about love. The love between a father and his daughter. The love between a husband and his wife. The love between two young lovers. The love between a man and God--and that's touching, whether you believe in God or not. There is just something so pure and simple about the musical's message about love, and it's a shame that modern films seem to over stuff the love message with a glow of shallow boxes of chocolates and bouquets of roses.

However, it's also a film about tradition crackling under the pressure of a escalating revolution. A revolution that is plagued by the sorrows of destruction and injustice. There's definite cynicism in the film, especially when homes are being destroyed.

Yet, in the end, there is hope. It's not overdone. It's not ridiculous. It's an authentic feeling of hope. People are forgiven. The future is full of endless possibilities. The film doesn't shove sentimentalism, but makes its point in a rather quiet, touching way.

Director Norman Jewison's musical numbers are not splashy, technicolor extravaganzas, but they are nevertheless electrifying. Topol demands attention. The camera is drawn to his powerful persona. This is most apparent when Topol must break the fourth wall--he's traditional and extremely personable.

And I'll leave with Topol's legendary "If I Were a Rich Man" scene:

Bees in New York

Almost expected Simon & Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence" before this happened. I mean, really now?

For anyone who has been following me on Twitter, I've been frequently fangirling Seinfeld and watching as much of the reruns as possible on television syndication because that's the best way for Seinfeld newbies to become accustomed to Seinfeld. It's pretty much on television four or five times a day.

I've never quite thought about it before, but it is arguably the greatest American sitcom ever. It's well-written, funny, compulsively re-watchable, wonderfully acted, and all that nothing has directly contributed to the nihilist and existentialist thought in pop culture's mechanical consciousness. Seinfeld is a grand "f--- you" statement to and about life but at its best, an oddly profound and instantly relatable collection of scenes from the awkward simplicities of living and breathing.

However, Seinfeld is woefully underrated in my demographic. While I did not grow up watching the new episodes, I did grow up watching the reruns and I'm sure others have seen it during their moments of channel-surfing. And it is certainly an acquired taste: Until one could actually get in touch with one's feelings of misery, Seinfeld will seem like a cruel, unsophisticated reflection of smug, selfish, superficial New Yorkers.

Yet everyone prefer Friends, which usually plays before or after Seinfeld on a one-hour or two-hour sitcom rerun block. Well, I actually love Friends, since I grew up watching it on a regular basis and saw the last three seasons when it was still on NBC. Yeah, I, too, would love to be one of the six, frolicking in a fountain and being cute and cheerful all the time, but as I know and you know, sometimes karma is a vengeful, inescapable cop.

This leads me in to the DreamWorks animated family movie, Bee Movie, which is honestly a ridiculous film that I would have never bothered to watch if I were not a Seinfeld fan. While I do realize Larry David is the main brainchild behind Seinfeld, Jerry Seinfeld has also co-written some memorable episodes and is a gifted comedian and, in my humble opinion, a fine actor. Seinfeld co-wrote, co-produced, and voiced Barry B. Benson, the hero of Bee Movie.

I am sorry to say that Bee Movie seems to take its inspiration from the weakest episodes of the ADD-induced world of Seinfeld's final two seasons (after Larry David left the show). It is a weird animated feature about a bee who recently graduated from college and has to find a lifelong job. As he explores the possibilities, he encounters a piece of the real world, the human world, I should say. He realizes that humans steal honey from humans and decides to sue the human race, with the help of a lovely florist. This all ends on a rather absurd, pseudo-socialist message and makes me wonder how the hell any child is supposed to enjoy the film.

Bee Movie reminds me of another semi-obnoxious DreamWorks product, Shark Tale, which is also another star-studded animated feature which boasts a voice cast that range from Will Smith to Martin Scorsese.

I don't personally know anyone who has seen Bee Movie, but I have a desire to have a discussion about it. Bee Movie has almost everything I dislike about some modern animated movies, aside from its unattractive animation. I can't say I hated it because I did laugh once or twice and I do praise its courageous appeal to the often loopy possibilities of animation, but I did hate how it tried so damn hard to appeal to the adult masses with self-consciously neurotic Seinfeld-esque dialogue and pop culture references.

In fact, Bee Movie is dressed to the nines with pop culture references that are amusing, but rarely laugh-out-loud hilarious or even necessary. This all starts with the title itself. Ha-ha?

Here we have Ray Liotta honey, a Sting cameo (get it?), a send-up to The Graduate and the downfall of the Saddam Hussein statue, a rather mean-spirited scene where Winnie-the-Pooh gets tranquilized, blatant sex and incest jokes, a creepy man-bee-woman love triangle, a possible sociopath, a Larry King cameo, and many other things that are borderline creepy and eye-roll inducing.

This makes me wonder how animated movies sometimes try really hard to cater to both children and adults, especially DreamWorks. I've heard some fantastic things about How to Train Your Dragon, which I haven't seen, but I've seen many previous DreamWorks animated features, and they are over-the-top with pop culture references that adults probably aren't even going to care for and young children will simply not understand. The beauty of Disney and Pixar is that they rely on the old-fashioned mechanisms of good ol' storytelling and great animation and in the end, there's a wonderful movie to be cherished by audiences of all ages.

I winced and squirmed throughout Bee Movie, though I do realize that it is ultimately a good-intentioned animated family comedy about the benefits of working together. However, being a fan only goes so far. C

Discussion: 1) What do you think about supposedly family-friendly animated movies that tries to cater to both children and adults? 2) Have you ever watched a movie you wouldn't usually watch just because it's somewhat related to something you love?

Teen Movie Trailer Showdown: Eclipse vs. Twelve

Since it's spring break, I have more time to spend my days viewing movie trailers that are relevant to the near-future of my generation.



I just finished viewing the trailer to Eclipse. Is anyone kind of annoyed that Taylor Lautner tells Kristen Stewart that he's going to fight until her heart stops beating? I mean, shouldn't he fight until his heart stop beating? If fighting means keeping her alive?

And is anyone kind of annoyed that neither Taylor Lautner or Robert Pattinson has enough charisma to burn up the screen in a swoon-worthy way? Yeah, I'm sure they go to the gym and work out enough to keep their jobs, but I don't feel any grand magnetism radiating off either of these boys.

Okay, whatever, girls. I didn't even bother to see New Moon, which I'm sure is a great romance about the kind of life-or-death supernatural love triangles typical teenage girls can easily relate to. And Kristen Stewart, I'm sure, is great eye candy, too.



There is also the new trailer to Twelve, a small film that premiered at Sundance to mostly negative reviews. It is directed by BISTF favorite, Joel Schumacher, who also made the unforgettably hysterical (and oddly touching) St. Elmo's Fire and is the brainchild behind the riveting hot mess that is Batman & Robin. However, not to ignore his legitimately finer works, which includes The Phantom of the Opera and Batman Forever.

I spotted the Twelve at a Gossip Girl LiveJournal community because it stars my favorite Upper East Side deadbeat, Chace Crawford. While in Gossip Girl, Chace Crawford plays a clean-shaven slut, in Twelve, he plays a not-so-clean shaven Upper East Side drug-dealer who seems to be constantly haunted by a moderately laughable narration by Kiefer Sutherland. Plus, Twelve is technically Gossip Girl, only darker and more about drugs.

Here, Chace Crawford is in love with Emma Roberts (uh, okay) and deals drugs to the kind of Upper East Side teenage slut that his character in Gossip Girl would love to date, but here, that girl has sex with 50 Cent (no, I'm not kidding) in exchange for drugs? And she gets high around her large collection of stuffed animals (she's so rich!!!), which can actually rival my large collection of stuffed animals? Oh yeah, Rory Culkin is also in this movie.

"Kids" by MGMT plays in the awful trailer. MGMT feels used.

Both Eclipse and Twelve are based on young adult novels.

Eclipse is the third book of the Twilight series (duh). The Twilight series was conceived when author Stephenie Meyer had a dream, which is actually kind of interesting because Mormonism, the religion that Stephenie Meyer is part of, is also conceived from a dream (or vision). Just an interesting parallel I realized, that's all. Completely insignificant to the rest of the post.

Twelve (the book) was written by a 17 year old. Awesome! This is what dreams are made of. I'm sure the book is better, though.

Eclipse will be released on June 30 (a Wednesday) and Twelve will be released on July 2 (a Friday). Of course, Eclipse will dominate the July 4 box-office, so there's no use trying to pit an unnecessary battle between two teen movies of completely different genres aimed partially at the same demographic, but not really.

Anyway. A gun to your head: Which movie (Eclipse or Twelve) would you rather spend your wonderful fireworks weekend watching and why?

Post ends. Just felt like blogging and asking a pointless question.

A Comparison: The Age of Innocence vs. Dangerous Liaisons

A truly beautiful shot. I really wanted her to turn around.

I just finished watching The Age of Innocence for the first time. It is an achingly beautiful period piece about a romance that is simply not meant to be.

Director Martin Scorsese has once again proved (to me, at least) that he is a fearless director who possesses endless versatility. Whether it's a biblical epic or a gangster shoot 'em up, Scorsese seems to live and breathe cinema.

The Age of Innocence is no different.

Newland Archer (Daniel Day-Lewis) and Ellen Olenska (Michelle Pfeiffer) are two very compatible people who can't live happily ever after because they fall in love in the wrong time and wrong place. However, Archer is engaged to the young, traditional May Welland (Winona Ryder) and the Countess Olenska is contemplating a socially unacceptable divorce from her Polish husband.

What results is an aesthetically gorgeous feast and a compelling and lightly satirical look at the romance and drama of those who dwell in the gossipy obstacles courses of New York high society of the late 1800s.

What a lovely cinematic couple. Day-Lewis and Pfeiffer should make another film together someday.

And, not to mention, Daniel Day-Lewis, in this film in particular, is incredibly handsome. I thought of how well he is able to wear the period garb in this film and how attractive he made those insane, flamboyant costume pieces in Gangs of New York look. If I were a man, I would want Daniel Day-Lewis' physique. Just sayin'.

Just looking at this picture reminds me of the electricity between Close and Malkovich. What chemistry.

But as I watched The Age of Innocence, I was reminded of another period film (and Pfeiffer flick), Dangeorus Liaisons, directed by Stephen Frears. Frears, for the most part, is almost as versatile as Scorsese but doesn't seem to get the same level of undivided attention.

In Dangerous Liaisons, you have John Malkovich, fearlessly and successfully tearing through a conventional lothario role with his unconventioinal looks. And that impeccable last shot of Glenn Close is simply haunting.

While The Age of Innocence takes place a century later in an entirely different continent, there is the same discreet, hush-hush mentality regarding uncontrollable feelings that deviate from the norm. Yet, strangely enough, everything feels so much more liberated in Dangerous Liaisons. Perhaps that's due to the naturally manipulative nature to the characters in Dangerous Liaisons, in contrast to the characters in The Age of Innocence, who, deep down, just want to do the right thing.

I personally prefer The Age of Innocence, yet I also adore the exciting games played in Dangerous Liaisons, despite the fact that the film does feel too theatrical at times. These films would accompany each other well in a double feature.

So, which film do you prefer: The Age of Innocence or Dangerous Liaisons and why?

Art Imitates Life, Literally

Welcome to the anti-western. It's a sad, sad genre. No more glorious John Wayne justice around here.

I ask pointless questions all the time: "Where did you buy this?" "Why is the answer to number five 6.52?" "Why did Pip end up with Estella, even though she totally ruined his life?" It annoys many people around me. They accuse me of thinking too much into things that don't matter.

So obviously, this brings me to how I simply don't understand why McCabe & Mrs. Miller is such a revered film. This is what Roger Ebert had to say in his Great Movies entry:

Robert Altman has made a dozen films that can be called great in one way or another, but one of them is perfect, and that one is McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971).

I am clearly missing something. I haven't seen many Altman films, but I guess I don't need to watch another one if McCabe & Mrs. Miller is as good as it gets.

So, I think the movie is about this gambler named McCabe (Warren Beatty)? And he ends up in the testosterone-ridden middle of nowhere? And he wants to open a saloon and whorehouse? And he becomes partners with a prostitute named Mrs. Miller (Julie Christie) because she understands women better than McCabe does? And McCabe falls in love with her, but she cares more about her opium? And some men want to buy McCabe's property and he refuses and the men decides that it's time to kill McCabe because this is how justice works in the unestablished west?

Um, okay...

The film is blurry. I can't hear the conversations half the time. The actors mumble their lines. A billion conversations are going on in a single scene. And apparently, that was the point?

I do like the part where McCabe delivers that monologue where he confesses his feelings for Mrs. Miller. That's really a sweet, lovely moment, especially when he turns and looks at the whorehouse. Almost a little too hopefully sentimental for the film's desperately cynical atmosphere.

Beatty and Christie's performances are terrific in this film, I just don't care much for the world their characters inhabit. Christie is the perfect firecracker here, though I wish her character belonged in an entirely different world that isn't nearly as grim and depressing. And as for Beatty's McCabe, I wanted him to win at the end of the day. Even under all that beard, Beatty is still pretty darn charismatic.

I understand this is a "slice of life" picture. Yet I've seen documentaries more engaging than this film. When I see a movie, I want to see a movie. Not a lifeless portrait filled with too much Leonard Cohen at random intervals.

So enlighten me, please. Explain why McCabe & Mrs. Miller is "perfect," or close to perfect. Ebert had his say. Not even the film's IMDb page includes any disgruntled viewers to refute. C

Nora Ephron and the Art of the 90s Romantic Comedy

Nora Ephron directs one of the most shamelessly happy endings on this side of the rainbow. And you can't stop her because it already happened.

Notice the obnoxiously pink aisle at your local grocery store? Yep, it's February. And yep, Valentine's Day is just around the corner.

And while it's the month where single women love to talk about how much they love being single, it's also the month where those single women rent An Affair to Remember against their better judgment. Or because Sleepless in Seattle told them that An Affair to Remember is the best movie of all-time. Little do they know, they would probably be better off watching Sleepless in Seattle.

Whenever I proclaim my love for 90s romantic comedies, I'm typically just thinking of Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail. There are several rare occasions that I include Jerry Maguire, My Best Friend's Wedding, As Good As It Gets, Notting Hill, Much Ado About Nothing (credit goes to Shakespeare, though) and Sabrina in my statement, but most of the time, I'm just actively thinking about Nora Ephron's cinematic fairy tales.

On a side note, I do think Jerry Maguire is a better film (not necessarily a personal favorite, though) than both Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail combined, since it's deeper than mere fluff. It's not generic. It's cynical, frustrated, and absurdly authentic on an emotional level. It's not even on the same level as other 90s romantic comedies. So there is technically no comparison. While most people seem to hail Almost Famous as Cameron Crowe's magnum opus, Jerry Maguire strikes a chord with me that goes beyond any bright-eyed anthem about sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll.

I felt compelled to write this post because of my recent viewing of Joe Versus the Volcano and the numerous times I've recently encountered Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail on basic cable. While I am not favorable towards Tom Hanks and Meg Ryans' first cinematic outing, I've fallen head over heels over their adorable selves in their iconic films together. I don't have any particular purpose for this post, though I do think I want to comment on the current state of romantic comedies or how I don't mind generic romantic comedies or how awesome it is to randomly catch Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail on E! or Oxygen. This post may result into a pointless rant, so I apologize in advance.

Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail make me feel nostalgic. There are sentimental reasons behind my adoration for these films. They remind me of a time when I was 10 or 11 and I started keeping a notebook for movie reviews. I wrote about movies I watched on Saturday nights on television--most of the movies were 90s romantic comedies. Not my favorite genre, but certainly a genre I don't mind watching and talking about. There hasn't been a genre that has evolved so much, yet kept its roots firmly pressed with both formulaic storytelling and sometimes, unquestionable originality, if you know what I mean. It's a versatile genre that's constantly evolving in a billion directions.

Ephron is a pioneer in the constantly evolving sphere of romantic comedies. If she isn't now, she certainly was one. In 1989, she penned the fairly entertaining, adorable, and endearing Rob Reiner-directed romantic comedy, When Harry Met Sally and her screenplay was soon nominated for an Academy Award. Several years later, her screenplay for Sleepless in Seattle was also nominated for an Academy Award.

Ephron has an incredible knack for making extremely witty, pleasant films. Don't scoff this talent--I highly doubt Martin Scorsese or Quentin Tarantino, who both possess legitimate filmmaking talent, can ever achieve, or even attempt, Ephron's feats. (Nor would they want to, but just sayin'.) Ephron's films are several steps away from pure fantasy, yet they are so grounded, in a this-can-happen-to-you kind of way. In addition, Ephron knows how to cast her films well. Her actors, often Hollywood superstars, can play characters with relatable human desires and emotions.

Take Meryl Streep in Ephron's most recent film, Julie & Julia, for example. Streep, a Hollywood superstar, plays Julia Child, a cooking superstar, as this strangely relatable woman who just wants to share her love for French cuisine to American housewives! Streep's Julia Child is determined and ambitious, just like the rest of us.

Ephron's cast of characters are simply people we just want to hang out with. The characters that inhabit Ephron's romantic comedy universe are often upper middle-class folks who are well-read, culturally informed, and rarely make their own coffee in the morning. If we weren't already like them, we wouldn't mind being them.

Back to Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail. They are films that rely on a generic formula. You've Got Mail more so than Sleepless in Seattle. They are also films that are inspired by classic films, again, You've Got Mail more so than Sleepless in Seattle. You've Got Mail is essentially a modern update of The Shop Around the Corner while Sleepless in Seattle is a happy-go-lucky love letter to a rather depressing romantic tragedy, An Affair to Remember. My point is, 90s romantic comedies are, Ephron's films in particular, old-fashioned at heart.

Sleepless in Seattle is a dream with an ending that feels right. You've Got Mail skews to a point where it's almost dangerously cynical. But that's part of Ephron's charm. She's aware that the real world exists and she profoundly acknowledges it in an often hysterical and oddly insightful kind of way. These pieces of surreal realism may be why Ephron's films appeal more to my friends' mothers than my friends themselves.

This brings me to the current state of generic romantic comedies. While many recent romantic comedies succeed by skewing the standards of their genre, the generic ones suffer miserably. Conventions are comforting, but not when they feel like a 12-year-old girl's short story. I am not going to defend those films, though. Made of Honor is a slow-burning embarrassment that comes off as stupidly cute in its own moronic oblivion. The Ugly Truth is perhaps one of the worst movies of the past decade and it's a shame that it did not garner any Razzie recognition because it's a truly horrible, offensive film (more so than innocent Razzie nominees Obsessed or Hannah Montana: The Movie combined). Love Actually, though not an awful film, is awfully cavity-inducing. I am sure the list can go on.

Although I did enjoy Dan in Real Life for one reason or another that I can't even specify, I do think future filmmakers of the romantic comedy genre should turn to classic Hollywood for advice, especially those eager to make the generic type. Ephron did so, with excellent results. I'm not advocating mindless remakes, but I'm advocating the charm that was ever-so-present in the battle of the sexes between Hepburn and Tracy or the lovingly screwball antics between Hepburn and Grant or the clever back-and-forths between MacLaine and Lemmon. Charm is the key. Desperately hoping the two lovers will end up together is the key. Finding two stars who can act toe-to-toe with each other is the key. Being ridiculously chaste doesn't hurt either. Then there you have a fine, though perhaps overly conventional, romantic comedy. But formula can be awfully charming sometimes when done correctly, don't you think?

So remember the classics. Aside for Ephron's films, the Sabrina is a genuinely sweet remake of a 50s Billy Wilder romantic comedy, Everyone Says I Love You feels like a dreamy musical from the 40s or 50s, and Only You is probably loosely inspired by Roman Holiday.

This entry has has gone nowhere, though I do think I have expressed my thoughts in a modestly abstract rant, a mixed bag of sorts. It kind of makes no sense. I guess many can argue that Judd Apatow has done the world of generic romantic comedy genre some favors or how Juno (absurdly overrated) and (500) Days of Summer (a film that I have not seen?! so I can't really comment aside from what I've heard?) satisfied your indie hipster appetites, or how Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind really is a romantic comedy, despite the fact it's totally depressing (I've only read the script, strangely enough), or how 13 Going on 30 and The Proposal are awesome (and they're fun, I guess), but those films simply don't contain the same DNA as a typical 90s romantic comedy, though I might be just being notalgic and have gotten all my emotions terribly confused. Perhaps we should go forward and not back.

But for this Valentine's Day, I do encourage you all to rent Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail because they are fabulously fun films and the chemistry between Hanks and Ryan will not disappoint. These films will make you smile, a core quality that is necessary in every romantic comedy. But I'm sure you know that already. I remain optimistic about the future of romantic comedies, the generic ones in particular. Hollywood will continue making them and I trust that eventually, the genre would hit another jackpot. Or, better yet, Nora Ephron will return to the genre that she once dominated and surprise us all. Bewitched was a decent enough starting point.

If you would like to read an expert strut his stuff, A.O. Scott from The New York Times has written an excellent article about the current state of romantic comedies, A Fine Romance, My Friend, This Is, published in 2008. The article continues to be relevant and brilliant. While I was Googling for some Nora Ephron information, I stumbled across Kid in the Front Row's hilarious post about how awesome Nora Ephron is. So make sure to check 'em out.

And I would like to open a discussion: What are your favorite conventional romantic comedies (happy endings, etc.) of the past 30 years? What would you like to see in future romantic comedies?

The Prettiest (and Bitchiest) Girl in Town

"Hey, Timothy Bottoms, why do you look so much like Nick Jonas? You don't know about him? Well, he'll be famous in 40 years. But by then, you'll hardly care."

There are film performances that simply resonate with you. They are few and far between, but fortunately, they exist.

For me, one of those performances is Cybill Shepherd's pitch-perfect portrayal of an attention-whoring, shamelessly manipulative small-town rich girl, Jacy Farrow, in Peter Bogdanovich's sexually-fueled coming-of-age story, The Last Picture Show. You may have heard of it.

The Last Picture Show is essentially American Graffiti, with more despair, anxiety, and nudity. That statement might be a slight exaggeration, though. It's a film I hated when I first watched it when I was 14. But here's a suggestion: Don't watch The Last Picture Show if you're a typical 14 year old. You'll hardly care, if you were anything like me. You'll hardly "get" the film, though whether or not you "get" a film depends on your cognitive development. Wait a couple of years, anyway.

It's been several years since I first watched The Last Picture Show, and boy, I'm surprised how much I don't hate the film anymore. Just say the title: The Last Picture Show. It's a beautiful title, isn't it? All the credit goes to writer Larry McMurty. The title itself strikes full-speed nostalgia and longing. A love letter to yesteryear. But really, it's one helluva title.

Enter Anarene, Texas, 1951. It's a classic small town. Everyone knows who's who. Yet the roads are empty. Tumbleweeds roll. Teenagers occasionally drive up to the local cafe to catch a burger. Or meet their dates at the local picture show. The local cafe, pool hall, and cinema are all owned by Sam the Lion (Ben Johnson).

Sonny (Timothy Bottoms) and Duane (Jeff Bridges) are best friends. Duane is dating Jacy (Shepherd), the prettiest girl in town. And of course, you really believe Jacy is the prettiest girl in town, despite her insane antics for attention and admiration. Shepherd illuminates the screen, like a black-and-white beauty. She's absolutely gorgeous. Even Sonny is smitten. Because Jacy is unavailable, Sonny begins an affair with the coach's wife (Cloris Leachman).

But back to Shepherd's performance. Even when I hated the film, I appreciated Shepherd's performance. Whenever the film's engines are about to slow down, Shepherd appears, prepared to steal the show. When Jacy tries to lose her virginity to Duane in the motel room, Shepherd voices her furstrations in such an anxious, funny, and uncomfortable way that I didn't know whether to laugh or cringe.

If portrayed by any other actress, Jacy would be just another snobby rich girl who toys with all the boys in town. But Shepherd makes Jacy something much more than that. Jacy is another insecure teenage girl. She wants approval from everyone she meets. She wants people to think she's fearless, even when she's not, as indicated by the pool party scene. Really, who doesn't want people to think they're the bee's knees? In a way, Shepherd even makes Jacy oddly relatable.

However, Jacy thinks that she can go through life with her looks--not an entirely universal concept, so, not so relatable--but she realizes that sometimes, the situation goes beyond mere looks. And that frustrates her because she almost feels vulnerable and worthless.

But that's what makes Shepherd's performance so admirable. Jacy is a queen bitch--an alluring one, indeed--yet there are so many emotional layers to dissect.

After the filming of The Last Picture Show, Shepherd got Bogdanovich (a doomed love affair) and Leachman won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress. While Leachman was fine in the film (I have a feeling her last scene cemented her Oscar win), Shepherd pinched me on the shoulder whenever she showed up on screen. I know not everyone feels the same way as I do about Shepherd's performance, but it's a performance that seduced me. Shepherd should have been at least nominated. What a snub.

As for the film itself, it's rather slow. Sometimes I wonder why the town won't just go ahead and implode already. It's Edith Wharton's Starkfield without the snow. While it's beautifully shot in black-and-white, with a lovely soundtrack, the film is mostly character-driven--perhaps a little too character-driven. But Bogdanovich illustrates the feeling of desperation with just the right mood and tone. It's a feeling that is most proactive after the age of 14, trust me. Perhaps that's why I felt like I understood The Last Picture Show better in my second go-around.

But no matter. Watch The Last Picture Show for Shepherd's performance--along with Johnson, Leachman, Bridges, and Ellen Burstyn's performances. But mostly for Shepherd's. Because she's just pure electricity. Shepherd's Performance: A, The Last Picture Show: B

The 2000s, A Decade in Retrospect...I discover The Godfather

[from The Godfather: Part II]

The 2000s, A Decade in Retrospect is a series where I will be professing my love to the pop culture wonders that I discovered during this decade, but not specific to this decade.

When I was eleven, the only legitimate live-action "classic" I've seen and loved, released before 1990 was Rain Man. I loved the movie to pieces. Thought Dustin Hoffman was fantastic. Tom Cruise as well. The ending touched my tremendously. I still think positively of that film, though repeated viewings have diminished my heightened adoration.

But The Godfather was the film that turned on my curiosity for the realm of cinematic classics. I'd like to think that, without The Godfather, I would have never touched It's a Wonderful Life, The Philadelphia Story, or Roman Holiday with a ten-foot pole. Anything before the 80s would still be, sadly, off-limits for me, as far as my interests go.

I saw The Godfather by accident.

I was surfing the TV Guide website on my old dial-up Internet connection, looking for a movie to watch with my mom for the remaining duration of a lazy Saturday afternoon. I told her that The Godfather was going to be on network television today later in the afternoon. While I may have been bored, sitting in front of the television for four hours watching a single movie didn't sound very inviting.

But my mom managed to live forty years of her life avoiding The Godfather movies altogether. She said she wanted to see it. I told her I was uninterested.

I remember seeing The Godfather movies on the shelves of the local video rental store and while I was curious about them, a 70s mafia epic was never supposed to suck me in. I still preferred Mary Kate and Ashley movies at the time.

But I was really bored. When the movie started, I decided to sit down and give that sepia-tinted world a whirl. I knew I could leave at any time. But I didn't leave, unless you count in the occasional bathroom breaks.

While I wasn't too impressed with the first half-hour or so (I have learned to appreciate those scenes by now), the iconic scene when Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) goes to the restaurant and shoots Sollozzo and McCluskey to prove his allegiance to his family pulled me right in.

There aren't many scenes like that and even less that are so well-acted and well-directed. The intensity boils at such a high temperature that the moment everything cracks, it feels like someone just kicked open that imaginary cinematic door for the film and the audience become one.

Pacino's performance was the reason I stayed around to watch that phenomenal scene. He is simply an incredible actor. While his recent film choices have been questionable, Pacino has unquestionable screen presence. I couldn't leave my seat, not after the moment where Michael tells his girlfriend, Kay (Diane Keaton) about who his family is and what they do.

While I wasn't completely sucked in yet, but I was already partially invested in Michael Corleone. I tend to forget about Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando) altogether. I haven't seen many Brando films, but from what I have seen (this and A Streetcar Named Desire), I don't care for him, but that might as well change in the future.

That said, Michael Corleone is my favorite film character of all-time.

This is perhaps why I love The Godfather: Part II. I saw it two years after I've seen the original (I don't know why it took so long) and thought it was absolutely brilliant. In the winter break of eighth grade, I watched The Godfather: Part II four times. And considering it clocks around 3 hours and 20 minutes, I believe I achieved something fantastically awesome. Or that I have no life. But either way, it was worth it.

Parallel storytelling has never been done better. Robert De Niro is intimidating, touching, devastating, cunning, and self-assured as young Vito. The scene where Vito kills Fanucci is a powerful scene, the kind that you watch and gasp for breath afterward. And when Vito joins his family and tells baby Michael that he loves him very much, we get a telling glimpse into the Vito-Michael dynamic.

We realize that Michael's destiny has always been to inherit Vito's crime empire. While Vito may have respected Michael's initial wishes to not be part of the bullet parade, Vito knew, deep down, that Michael was the only son with the potential to keep things in order.

We see Vito's rise juxtoposed with his son's modern personal downfall. Michael has everything a mafia don desires: Intelligence. Power. Success. Michael is sucking up the American Dream with a vacuum. But his personal relationships are crumbling.

Michael's wife, Kay is pregnant and unhappy; Michael has failed to keep his promise to make the family business legitimate. Michael's brother, Fredo (John Cazale), is jealous and angry of his worthless and easily replaceable position in the business. Michael's sister, Connie (Talia Shire) is still mad at him for what he's done to her husband and tries to distract herself with escapades with randon men.

While Vito was loved and respected by his family, Michael is too cold to be embraced by anyone. He can get the job done, but no one close to him is going to bother to congratulate him at the end of the day.

The Godfather: Part II also features two of the most criminal Oscar snubs of all-time: John Cazale and Diane Keaton. Sure, Lee Strasberg is an interesting antagonist and Talia Shire delivers a good performance, but Cazale and Keaton's performances are explosions in epic proportions. I think of Cazale in the boat house scene. I think of Keaton in the hotel room scene. The fact that their performances were dismissed by the Academy back in 1973 was, and always will be, blasphemous. I can't think of better examples of Academy injustice.

But it goes back to Pacino, who is brilliant in every frame of the film. I have never felt so much sympathy for a fictional murderer in my life. I think of the person Michael was, and the person he became. He didn't want any of this. But he's completely capable in fulfilling his duties. He's incredibly good at the job he unwillingly (and over time, willingly) does. Somewhere down the road, he got lost. He doesn't know if he's doing this for his family, his deceased father, or for himself. But he's constantly keeping everything together when he so desperately wants it to all shatter.

The last scene is heartbreaking, every time I think about it. It masterfully creates the desolate state of loneliness. Michael has lost everything he cares about. He has become the man he feared he would become.

But the transformation is complete and there's no going back.

Yet he does in The Godfather: Part III. I love that movie and will defend it when necessary. I even wrote a self-titled "love letter" to the film this past summer because I wanted to.

Pacino is, once again, excellent in The Godfather: Part III. Michael is softer now and more like Vito. But his ex-wife, Kay, still doesn't respect him. Michael's family business is still not legitimate, although he really is trying this time around. It's a riveting portrait that is indeed crumbling, yet everything still feels so alive.

It is an inescapable spiral that never ends.

I became obsessed with The Godfather for a while. I went on GangsterBB practically everyday to read the posts. I watched films that Godfather fans enjoyed (Scarface sucks, GoodFellas rocks). I watched a crapload of Pacino movies for a period of time because damn, the man's thrilling to witness as any character in any movie. I even read Mario Puzo's novel, which pales in comparison to the films.

While the choice trilogies of my generation usually included only The Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean, I rebelled and embraced The Godfather. Because there is no other story in cinema quite like it.

The 2000s, A Decade in Retrospect...Gossip Girl

[from the "Vanity Fair" August 2008 photoshoot]

The 2000s, A Decade in Retrospect is a series where I will be professing my love to the pop culture wonders that I discovered during this decade, but not specific to this decade.

Teen drama has never been so sensationally addictive and relentlessly glamorous until Gossip Girl entered my life in the summer of 2009.

When the ultimate Upper East Side teenage high society queen, Blair Waldorf (Leighton Meester) and the sunny, charming "it" girl Serena van der Woodsen (Blake Lively) finally meet eye-to-eye on a rainy day in Central Park, I was sold. Blair spills her heart out to Serena: Blair's father left her mother for a male model, her boyfriend has been acting weird...and her best friend wasn't there for her as all this unfolded.

Bitching, back-stabbing, and uncomfortable confrontations. All that comes to an abrupt halt. Instead, we see Blair and Serena as who they really are and who they really want to be: best friends. Could Gossip Girl be a show with a...soul?

After years of rejecting the glitzy teen phenomenon, I became a fan. Gossip Girl turned out to be less shallow than I initially thought it was. Oh, yes, it may take place in a delusional universe of impeccable fashion sense, poreless skin, lovely make-up, drool-worthy shoes, and last but not least--perfect hair! served with a fair share of teen drinking and sex. But it's also a show with surprisingly likable characters and a cast with young, attractive talents who can deliver surprisingly engaging performances.

And to top it off, the picturesque New York cinematography and hip-chic soundtrack is literally to die for. Kristen Bell's narration as the mysterious title blogger adds to the scandalous! factor to the show, just like sugar and spice does to any dish.

On an aesthetic level, Gossip Girl completely dominates.

But underneath all those fabulous designer items, it's really, a superbly entertaining television show. Especially season one. I'm sad to say that it has gone slightly downhill, or, slightly crooked, in terms of quality. But season one is blessed with so much pure, melodramatic fun to a point that it's deliciously irresistible.

I was familiar with Gossip Girl producer, Josh Schwartz's previous project, The O.C., a teen soap focusing on the privileged youth of Orange County. I didn't watch the show religiously, so naturally, I didn't have high expectations for Gossip Girl. I also knew that Gossip Girl was adapted from a series of books by Cecily von Ziegesar, but trashy teen novels were never my style. If I had to spend time pouring over hundreds of pages of words, I prefer to read something that would stimulate my mind, thank you very much.

(I did admittedly finish the first book in the series recently. So why are people complaining about Twilight being a literary atrocity when Gossip Girl exists? Thanks for the idea, von Ziegesar, but thank goodness Schwartz and co-creator Stephanie Savage came in, like the TV superheroes they truly are, and reconstructed von Ziegesar's ridiculous UES world from an annoying toxic wasteland of robotic idiots to a world that's a little more...human.)

The pilot episode of Gossip Girl drew me in immediately. Peter Bjorn and John's "Young Folks" always remind me of that alluring opening sequence. The entire cast is fueled with endless chemistry.

The fairy tale romance between middle-class loner, Dan Humphrey (Penn Badgley) and redeeming party girl, Serena van der Woodsen is the most endearing romance since the mini love story in Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl" music video. Their romance was briefly threatened by the arrival of Dan's blatantly boho-styled friend Vanessa (Jessica Szhor), but then Dan and Serena just continued being awesome. Too bad the refreshing take on the Ross-and-Rachel concept only lasted one season until it all went downhill.

The troubled golden couple, Nate Archibald (Chace Crawford) and Blair Waldorf added some tension to the seemingly pitch-perfect landscape of lovely penthouses and sparkling martini glasses. While I originally thought Serena may be the continuously threatening corner of the central love triangle, it turned out to be the notoriously boozed-up local bad boy, Chuck Bass (Ed Westwick), who has his hard-to-crack heart set on Blair.

Then there's Dan's ambitious, social-climbing little sister, Jenny (Taylor Momsen), who tries to fit into her snobby private school--especially Blair's inner circle--without a pricey outfit from Bendel's. And it wouldn't be a proper teen soap opera without some middle-aged romance added into the mix: Dan's ex-rocker father, Rufus (Matthew Settle) and Serena's socialite mother, Lily (Kelly Rutherford) were once old lovers in their wilder days. They inevitably reconnect.

Season two happened. The sometimes-frustrating, sometimes-interesting will-they-won't-they cat-and-mouse game between Chuck and Blair commenced in a style that even John Hughes would have found to be too angsty. Then Jenny destroyed her pretty face and hair with a heavy load of eyeliner and a constant bad hair day. Then Dan had an unnecessary affair with an English teacher that I didn't give a damn about. Yet Nate was useless (as usual), until we met his horrifically devious family that happens to include the most badass grandfather ever.

There goes a completely unbalanced season. Ended on a fairly high note, though.

Unfortunately, the first ten episodes of season three didn't do any favors for the show. But with the amazing mid-season cliffhanger, there may be hope for Gossip Girl after all. The most recent episode brought back what I loved about the show in the first place: blackmail, back-stabbing, bitching, the great relationships, and the surprisingly good acting.

Ed Westwick continues to be criminally underrated, simply because he's on a CW teen soap opera. He has convincingly molded Chuck from the bad boy/date rapist he was back in season one into this mature, caring young man who is destined for great things. There were moments in season two, despite the overly angst-up writing, where I just thought, damn, why doesn't Ed Westwick get major award recognition for this? This is character development done right. His achingly touching performance in "The Debarted" (3x12) proves that he can strike gold twice. Just like any good actor would.

While I wouldn't call myself a super-duper "Chair" (Chuck/Blair) obsessive, I do like their scenes together. Westwick and Leighton Meester have this electrifying, passionate chemistry that I can't deny. Their unforgettable limo scene in season one, ingeniously set to Sum 41's "With Me," has been etched in my memory forever. But I prefer to see Meester's Blair as a lone warrior, fearlessly tackling her enemies on her own, with vulnerabilities to boot. That is when Meester is the most fierce and interesting. The funny thing is, Blair's a bitch, but she's just too human to fill us with despair.

Another thing I adore about the relatively impressive latter half of season three (so far) is Taylor Momsen's Jenny. She may have the drabbest outfits (and isn't she supposed to be rich now?), but her gradual rise to teenage queendom is completely enticing. I love that Jenny is becoming a bitch--a drug-dealing bitch, no less. I love that she practically has no friends since she alienated her gay stepbrother Eric (Connor Paolo) from her queen bee lifestyle. And since they called truce, it makes you wonder: Did they really mean it? In short, I love Jenny's storyline this season and I don't care if you disagree.

And...who knew Chace Crawford had such good comedic timing? The days where Nate constantly looked stoned, confused, and clueless are officially a thing of the past. I welcome the randomly lovesick Nate who learned to emote and do heroic deeds that I actually want to root for.

While season three may be looking up, season one is still one of the most perfect seasons I've ever witnessed, especially by teen soap opera standards. Even if Gossip Girl never returns to its former glory, it will still hold a certain place in my adolescent heart. Every teenage girl needs a show in her life that's totally corrupt, full of random love triangles, and acted out by gorgeous people. Gossip Girl successfully fills that void to the very brim. With sin, squalor, and lots of xoxos.

The 2000s, A Decade in Retrospect...ION airs The Wonder Years

[images courtesy of The Wonder Years]

The 2000s, A Decade in Retrospect is a series where I will be professing my love to the pop culture wonders that I discovered during this decade, but not specific to this decade.

"Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, the next day you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place, a town, a house like a lot of other houses, a yard like a lot of other yards, on a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is, after all these years, I still look back, with wonder."

In the uneventful summer of 2007, I stumbled upon the late-eighties coming-of-age half-hour dramedy, The Wonder Years. The show delicately chronicles the adolescence of Kevin Arnold during the escalating confusion and violence of the Vietnam War.

I was immediately hooked. ION played three cycles of the entire show, thankfully. I was able to consume all six seasons in a very short period of time. I was completely in love with a television show for the very first time.

The performances. The script. The amazing soundtrack.

Fifties, sixties, and seventies pop never sounded so cool and timeless. I used to listen to The Stylistics' "You Are Everything" and Bob Seger's "We've Got Tonight" back-to-back because those songs always reminded me of the scenes in the show and how much I wished my adolescence was filled with that kind of innocent puppy-love romance.

While I've always love nostalgia when used effectively in every artistic medium I've ever encountered, I've never seen it done like this. The show is, and always will be, a sweetly sentimental masterstroke of television genius. You don't have to live and breathe knowledge of mid-twentieth century Americana to completely relish the hormonal antics of The Wonder Years. It simply the best television show I've seen about the process of growing up in suburbia.

Fred Savage's brilliant turn as Kevin showcases an adolescent under the influence of angst, infatuation, humor, heartbreak, brattiness, and confusion. Savage is a natural; the obvious crux of the show. Season four highlights Savage's capability to believably deliver the most heartbreaking moments of adolescence.

Speaking of season four, it is perhaps one of the best seasons of any television show ever. I was left speechless when I watched the captivatingly dramatic, achingly devastating two-parter, "Heartbreak" and "Denial." I got teary-eyed when Kevin discovers the necklace Winnie Cooper (Danica McKellar) leaves on his bus seat, shortly after their break-up. I got even more teary-eyed in the aftermath of the break-up when Winnie tells Kevin that she wants to be friends and Kevin insists he doesn't want to be friends. He honestly believes, in his achingly fragile teenage heart, that he loves her. And we believe that too.

To me, Kevin and Winnie are the ideal sweethearts, simply because they aren't perfect. Their relationship is confusing, like all relationships are. But they keep coming back to each other because well, they can. I've always wanted a relationship like Kevin and Winnie's, but I'm already at the latter edge of adolescence, so I guess it's a little too late.

Being a Kevin and Winnie fan, I embrace season six with opens arms, which is my second favorite season of the series. Some fans may feel cold towards season six, but after those random missteps in season five, season six is a refreshing surprise. But it's the most human and consistent season. It makes me wish there is indeed a season seven. But thanks, ABC and the TV gods for annihilating the existence of a season seven for me. My life is sorrowfully imperfect without it.

I especially like how Kevin and Winnie matured into two teenagers who can be a steady couple and work out problems together. Kevin is no longer pining for Winnie because he doesn't have to. And Winnie isn't playing games with Kevin anymore because she knows that Kevin cares for her--always have been, and always will. Winnie may not be the most likable character, but McKellar's performance makes us see her the way Kevin sees her: flawed, yet a desirable object of affection.

And in one of my favorite episodes (from season five, amazingly enough), "Double Double Date" shows the chemistry between Savage and McKellar at its most electrifying and fantastical:



It's good to be a teenager, right?

While I may adore The Wonder Years for the adolescent romance between Kevin and Winnie, the supporting characters are also memorable.

Jack (Dan Lauria), a middle America breadwinner, who is, I believe, what 80% our fathers really are like. Jack Arnold is the anti-Bill Cosby because fathers like Jack are real, not products of the laugh tracks of sitcom land.

Wayne (Jason Hervey), is another character that strikes a chord with me. He's a bully of an older brother, but he's also human, susceptible to all kinds of vulnerabilities. One of the great things about season six is that Wayne matures into the kind of man who can be relied and trusted. The New Year's episode shows Wayne at his most authentic; he's more than a caricature of childhood or a comedic stereotype--he has a heart that can be broken.

Daniel Stern's narration as the "older Kevin" is also one of the grander highlights of the show. The lines that hit home and choked me up are mostly in narration, a role that Stern plays wonderfully.

The Wonder Years is not a perfect show, though. There are episodes that are terribly preachy. There are several rotten episodes (mainly in season five) that I try to weed out of my memory. Kevin's best friend, Paul Pfeiffer (Josh Saviano), always annoyed me. Thank goodness most of the episodes does not focus on the Kevin and Paul friendship because I couldn't care less. I was actually glad when Kevin found new best friends in season six because well, people change.

But despite these minor flaws, The Wonder Years is still amazing. There is so much emotional authenticity to the very best episodes that most shows of its kind can barely achieve or even come close. I feel like a thorn get stuck in my heart every time I re-watch some of the scenes on Youtube. Now, all they have to do is release the damn show on DVD...and perhaps this is just wishful thinking, but I'd like the original music on it too, please!