for 17 April 2001. Updated every WEEKDAY.
The Inland Empire Strikes Back!
Your articles on Hollywood usually are very provocative and interesting, or at least they have a point. Today's article sounds like a teenage dateless girl ranting about how she didn't want to go to prom anyhow. There are several interesting talking points about the upcoming strikes, you managed to miss them all, opting instead to rehash tired cliches and broad stereotypes to serve no apparent end. Isn't printing drivel to decry drivel kind of ironic? Leave the Hollywood columns to 40th Street Black and Bertolt Blecht, they have a much better grasp of it.
By the way, love the column, keep of the good work.
Hugs and Kisses,
Oh Michael, I can tell you live in LA because you used the term "talking points." You poor little guy.
AnyHOO, these, um, "talking points" which you refer to have appeared in countless publications thus far, will appear in countless publications henceforth, and most importantly, they don't interest me at all. Nor do they seem to interest anyone who's not a Hollywood writer or actor as achingly difficult as that may be for many Hollywood writers and actors to comprehend. Hence my decision to skim over those, uh, "talking points" which you so blithely skimmed over yourself, in your coy little note.
Hey, we Angelenos are GOOD at speaking without saying anything, aren't we? I'm proud of us! Let's grab lunch and celebrate!
Since you're a Hollywood kind of a guy, I'm surprised you don't agree that rehashing tired cliches and broad stereotypes always serves the common good. At any rate, rest assured that the last thing I'd want to do is to "decry" anything let alone to "decry" drivel, since it's my life's work. I do enjoy decrying Algebra II and the sudden unavailability of the "Ryan Phillipe" issue of TeenBeat at my local Sav-On, but what else would you expect from a teenage dateless girl? Gah!
p.s. Have an AWESOME summer!!!!!
A city of beggars masquerading as choosers. One of the best opening lines I've ever read.
Prof. Glenn Harlan Reynolds
Thank you, professor. The beggars around here don't seem quite as impressed, but maybe when I tell them that a professor liked my work, they'll change their little minds.
But just for the record, would you say that you're an "absentminded" professor, or do you think you're more of a "nutty" professor? I'm not sure they'll understand your position otherwise.
Rehashing tired cliches since 1970,
The Glamour Crisis
I was just surfing on the way to your site when I found this www.roopooco.com
It's the funniest thing I've seen in years. It's an Aussie site where they sell earrings made from Koala bear poo. The wording is very funny.
Contacting me about jewelry made from kangaroo shit in reference to a Suck piece on glamour is one of the strangest ways I've encountered for anyone to try to promote his website and his product. I admire your pluck. That's why I hate to break the news to you: Your venture is doomed. Maybe a few tourists who visit The Land Down Under would pick up a few of your trinkets to take back to their relatives, but overseas sales? Forget it.
Furthermore, I'm sorry to say that in my experience Australians are among the least glamorous people on the planet. Just look at the list of leading actors Australia has exported to this country. In addition to this year's Oscar winner, there's Mel Gibson, there's Paul Hogan... Hey, where's Paul Hogan's Oscar?
The presence of a trio like that on American screens inevitably calls to mind one question: Why do you keep doing this to us? Or maybe two: Why do we put up with it?
Wait. I take it back. If guys like that can make millions off Americans, kangaroo shit jewelry has a chance. A pretty good chance. Probably better than 50-50. Have you looked into setting up franchise stores in US strip malls? That's where they show the movies those Australians are in, too.
As they say in acting, break a leg.
Slotcar H. (for A.Y. Chahine)
Glamour has been on the decline for a couple of years now. It reached its selling point about the same time suddenly lucrative dot comer's traded in their UNIX books and Jolt colas for martini's and stinky thick cigars. Weren't those the days? Soccer moms wore kinky lingerie under swanky dresses and flirted with bisexuality while Project Managers donned suits and ties that color coordinated with their new SUVs and hoovered nose candy like rock stars. Jay Gatsby would have been right at home in pre-millennium Austin. Style, the yin to glamour's yang along the cultural axis, is making a big comeback. Given the southern direction of our economy thrift store chic is starting to look all the more attractive (although in some circles it never stopped). With any luck fashion will recycle itself back to the early days altculture.com has chronicled. Then all that flannel and the Doc Martins in the back of the closet won't be out of style crap. It'll be vintage, man!
Suddenly feeling vintage myself,
Dear Vintage Clay,
The difference between style and glamour is worth exploring, it's true. But as the dot-com bust slowly fades into legend, you can be sure that its accouterments and furnishings will be revived as surely as the look of the 1920s was recycled in the 1950s and beyond. In fact, one of the hallmarks of the '70s Glamour Crisis was a renewed interest in the flapper-era look that culminated in the 1974 film version of The Great Gatsby with, unfortunately, Robert Redford in the lead and, more happily, that '70s duo of evil, Karen Black and Bruce Dern, in supporting roles. The '74 Gatsby won an Oscar for costume design, so I expect to see another film version any day now. And then it's only a matter of time before the late '90s dot-com boom becomes the raw material for a Hollywood version of those glamorous days and nights in the Bay, with the 2012 versions of Dern and Black as Anuff and Havrilesky. That's something to look forward to, isn't it? So stop whining about all the soon-to-be vintage flannel in your closet and get to work on a novel about Suck so someday in the not-to-distant future a Coppola can write the screenplay for the movie, just like one did in 1974.
Slotcar H. (for A. Y. Chahine)
Hi Ali "Fear" Youssef Chahine
Check this the physical result of a lifetime of lapping up the likes of Suck, beginning with bootleg copies of Mad and 'Lampoon, surreptitiously consumed right under the nose of Colonel Profitt, Hugh (Skeeter) Profitt's father who never guessed what was hidden beneath those sheets he bounced a quarter off of every morning. Those were the days. Must admit, the brain is controlling the body, though. Geronimo!
The "Dali Ali"
You showed me something, all right. Thanks for the smack, in French no less. I don't know what Andre Breton would say about the survival of surrealism in Charlottesville, but your manifesto is OK with me, why not?
Maintaining the brain/body split since last Friday,
Slotcar H. (for A.Y. Chahine)
Whoa, I've never seen a reference to Hampton Beach, NH in print anywhere. Are you a former resident of NH?
Wild man, wild,
Subject: Hampton Beach NH reference ?
No, Dave, I'm not a former resident. I'm just a sometime visitor to New Hampshire's spectacular collection of state-run discount liquor stores. Driving through the Granite State as a child on my way to summer visits in Alton Bay, you see, I was always fascinated by the combination of cheap booze and the ready availability of lottery tickets at highway rest stops there. Now, as an adult, I go back from time to time to help out the tax-free local economy. Where I live they don't sell gin or bourbon in 750 ml plastic "travelers," as that practice is illegal here for some reason.
Did you notice I included Seabrook in "Scenes from the Life of the Death Row Film Critic"? Check that out for another cheap Granite State thrill.
Live free or die,