When you visit YouTube, do you ever look at the three videos the site has "Recommended for You," based on your search history? I didn't think there could be anything more mortifying than what popped up at the top of the recommendation list this morning: "Jensen Ackles sings! Pictures of Jensen Ackles shirtless, set to two short clips of Jensen singing." (I am not that much of a horndog, YouTube. Did I watch it?...Not the point!)
But then, I visited YouTube again, and not only did I get "'Chihuahua' Star Discovered in Dog Shelter" (I watched the Beverly Hills Chihuahua trailer once for work, okay!), but also "olive's home birth/water birth." You could not pay me to press 'play' on that. Just because I searched for the Bill Cosby: Himself bits on natural child birth -- to send to my sister who's freaking out about her impending labor -- does not mean I want to watch a baby be delivered in a kiddie pool!
What YouTube recommendations have horrified you?
P.S. That Jensen Ackles video is embedded after the jump.
The answer, dear downstairs neighbor, is not 7:30 a.m.!
In a dream world, I would never be forced to hear my neighbor's music: I find any noise I can't control annoying, and, frankly, the verdict is still out on his taste. But, life isn't perfect. So I need to know: How early -- and how late -- can you play music loudly without hearing my passive-aggressive stomps on your ceiling?
I think 9 a.m is the earliest you should start on a weekday, 11 a.m. on a weekend. I'd cut you off at 11 p.m. on a weeknight, and 12:30 a.m. on a weekend (though you should know I hate you for interfering with my prime-time viewing, period).
Earlier this week, my friend Megan programmed a back-to-back block of Bon Jovi into a jukebox: "Wanted Dead or Alive" followed by "Livin' on a Prayer." Now, when you're the only customers at a Wildwood, NJ Pizza Hut, on a Monday night, in the off-season, and you pay to hear Bon Jovi, it's because you want to rock. Not because you want a recreation of Jon and Richie's unplugged performance at the 1989 MTV Video Music Awards. That magic won't be recaptured.
Let's start a list of songs that should never be effed with, even by the original artist. I nominate "Livin' on a Prayer," which, as previously stated, should always rock. Unlike the maudlin "Prayer '94" version below.
Reasons I went to an 11 a.m. showing of Beverly Hills Chihuahua today:
1. It's the No. 1 movie in the country. 2. It's a slow news day, and I have a blog shift. 3. I'm fascinated by bad ideas, and I was certain this film was one. (Read EW's official review.) 4. I hadn't thought about how I'd feel handing my ticket to an usher.
That is the story of how I ended up being one of eight adults, each sitting alone, in a theater in Times Square, watching a film starring live-action talking dogs and Coyote Ugly's Piper Perabo. But here's what's really unfortunate: THE MOVIE DIDN'T TOTALLY SUCK.
I suppose there are still some aging punk purists who will tear their last tufts of spiked hair out over John Lydon's gleefully crass and pandering ad for Country Life butter. (Watch it here.) What an utterly shameless sell-out for the antiestablishment icon who used to call himself Johnny Rotten! Still, I think if you look closer at the Sex Pistols' (tiny) body of work, you'll see that the impulse to sell out and cash in on their fame was present all along, from the take-the-money-and-run ethos behind the song "EMI" to the self-congratulatory movie title The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (we self-destructed quickly, but we suckered everyone and made a bundle along the way), to the Filthy Lucre reunion tour a few years ago. Besides, what could be a more defiant gesture than spitting in your fans' faces by doing an ad for a product this prosaic? Anybody can sell out, but to sell out with such deliberate, stubborn banality? Now, that's punk rock.
Oh no! From the mixed-up files of Mr. Michael X. Ausiello: Andrea Bowen will return to Desperate Housewives as Julie, Susan's one-note, usually inconsequential daughter who started off the series in an awkward phase and then we realized the awkward phase was going to last her entire life. Julie will tow home a much older boyfriend in the form of Steven Weber -- for just one episode. (Hooray!)
This got me thinking: Why do I hate Julie? No apparent reason! Nothing about her is villainous; she's just...there, and I don't like it. It's the same way I felt about Crystal from Roseanne. It's not like Natalie West couldn't act. I probably just hated that the character was so pathetic. I remember watching Roseanne and mentally deleting Crystal from the Conners' kitchen all the time. It wasn't easy. Thank god we have Photoshop for that kind of thing today.
Quick, name the TV characters you irrationally hate!
As I write this, my DVR is a few short hours away from taping The CW's Privileged and CBS's The Mentalist and not Fox's Fringe at 9 p.m. ET. I have my reasons, but I've been second-guessing the decision all day. Were I a sane person, it wouldn't matter: I know I can watch Fringe tomorrow on Hulu, and I'm not a Nielsen family, so I don't have to feel guilty for affecting the show's ratings and betraying Joshua Jackson. Still, I feel... anxious. What if at 9:15 p.m I realize I made a mistake? It'll be too late to change the channel. I'll still have to watch Fringe tomorrow.
Here are my questions for you:
1. Now that so many episodes are available online the day after they air, do you still find yourself stressing over timeslot traffic jams?
2. If you answered yes, which timeslot war pains you the most and which show is the casualty?
I was thinking yesterday about suspending my blogging to deal with the mortgage meltdown, but instead I'll just continue making snarky observations about pop culture while the very soul of capitalism spontaneously combusts or whatever. Like this: I've been wondering for a couple weeks now how all the insanity on Wall Street will affect Money Never Sleeps,that misbegotten Wall Street sequel that was supposedly in the works last year. And guess what? Some actual "journalists" have gone ahead and given us all a sneak peak of how Money might play, by cornering Michael Douglas and requesting some sort of in-character comment as Gordon Gekko about the financial crisis. Yes, not one but several professional reporters seem to have followed Douglas to a U.N. event where he was speaking about nuclear test bans, all so they could ask him insightful questions like: "Are you saying, Gordon, that greed is not good?" Hoo boy. Who cares about limiting nukes when that kind of Pulitzer-worthy scoop is within reach?
Douglas, to his credit, refused to take that reporter's bait, adding, "My name is not Gordon. He's a character I played 20 years ago." You can watch the whole sorry spectacle below. And I'm heartened to hear Douglas' reply. Does this mean maybe he's no longer on board to play Gekko in that sequel, as was reported last year? More importantly, now that the clever little Woodwards at that press conference have gotten this out of the way, can we please agree as a nation to stop trying to get Michael Douglas to say sentences that include the words "greed" and "good" from now on? This meme must die! Or, hey, maybe Douglas should give up and agree to take John McCain's place at the debate tonight. What do you say?
So I'm watching the best-of Cybill Shepherd's '95-'98 CBS sitcom Cybill on DVD, and at the end of the final episode, "Ka-Boom," Cybill (Shepherd) and her newly broke best friend Maryann (Emmy winner Christine Baranski, doing Karen Walker before Megan Mullally) are arrested for the murder of Maryann's ex, Dr. Dick. (In their defense, they didn't think he was in his car or his boat when they blew them up.) "To be continued..." the screen read. Only there's a problem: It wasn't. The series got canceled.
We all know the pain of an unresolved cliff-hanger. Five years ago, for one of EW's Guilty Pleasures issues, I actually phoned a creator of the Olsen twins' canceled sitcom Two of a Kind and demanded that he tell me whether the father (Christopher Sieber) would have gotten together with the live-in babysitter (Sally Wheeler). That led to minor ridicule around the office, of course, but also to a recurring item in EW called What Would Have Happened, where I asked creators and executive producers of TV shows taken too soon to resolve the questions their cancellations left unanswered. After I got to the bottom of Cupid, John Doe, Wonderfalls, Popular, and Miss Match -- click on those links for much-needed closure -- the magazine's TV review section underwent a redesign and there was no longer a home for WWHH. Well, we're bringing it back. Hopefully in the pages of EW, but definitely on PopWatch, where we'll be able to give the resolutions the space they deserve and you the opportunity to weigh in on them.
How do we begin? You tell us the cliff-hanger mysteries you'd like solved, and we'll try to find producers willing to talk. The shows can be recent casualties (note: sometimes the show runners are still, understandably, in the fetal position and not ready to dish) or older ones that continue to consume you. In the meantime, I took the liberty of phoning Cybill Shepherd to chat about the drama-filled end of Cybill. The interview after the jump.
At least Candace Bushnell herself is writing the SATC book (working title: The Carrie Diaries). Of course, the whole franchise has strayed so far from her original conception that it's not like having Bushnell herself return to take another whack at it is going to make much difference. Back when Bushnell was writing SATC as a newspaper column, it was all about status, with Manhattan as a grid where power, money, talent, fame, sex appeal, and real estate intersected, a Monopoly board where, if you had one or more of those commodities, you could leverage it to acquire the others, and where, as a result, hookups were almost entirely mercenary and devoid of romance. In other words, it was Gossip Girl for adults. So maybe it'll work fine as a teen coming-of-age story.
In contrast, Douglas Adams is not writing the next HHGG book (entitled And Another Thing...) because he is, inconveniently, dead. Instead, the job is going to Eoin Colfer, author of the Artemis Fowl books. I haven't read them, but no matter how good they may be, they cannot transform Colfer into Adams, and the Hitchhiker series was all about Adams' voice -- that absurdist logic, wild imagination, wicked eye for sci-fi conventions worthy of parody, and cosmic indifference toward mankind, an utterly unimportant species on a backwater planet his books referred to merely as "mostly harmless." Colfer is already celebrated for his own unique voice; how easy will it be for him to suppress that and channel someone else's?
Show of hands, PopWatchers: Are you more alarmed by the SATC prequel or the HHGG sequel? Or can you muster more optimism toward both than I can?
Last night, I bought a last-minute ticket to see Celine Dion at Madison Square Garden with my friend Robb, his friend Louis, and Louis' boyfriend Jorge. (This sounds like a Kathy Griffin bit...) I took notes:
• Robb: "I don't believe I'm here." [Note his IM from earlier in the day: "There will be moments tonight when we're all scarred from embarrassment. But have you ever seen her live? You will be amazed at the voice. It's perfect."] • Opens with "I Drove All Night." Standing on the piano in the first song!She has great legs... • Me: "I just got chills. Goddamn it." Robb: "Write that down." • Robb turns to give me a knowing nod as she holds the last note of "The Power of Love." • Ten years since she's played the Garden. Feels priviledged to still be singing for us. Has her 81-year-old mother and 7.5-year-old son on tour. Thanks us again on behalf of everyone onstage. Robb: "It's genuine." I agree. • New song "Taking Chances." "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" [Squeal!] "Because You Loved Me." [Boo.] People like that song? • "To Love You More." Still no chest-pounding. Four kids pulled from our section because they've been standing and doing interpretive dance during every song. Robb hopes they get better seats so they can act crazy right in front of Celine. "She'd love them." • "Eyes on Me." New song. Like it. And the black thigh-high boots. • "All By Myself." Robb nudges my leg as if to tell me to "get ready." One light chest slap, but definitely not a pound. When is she going to pound?Goes a cappella for the big note at the end. Falls to her knees and leans back with her arms over her head. [Note that this is starred, twice, in my notebook. It was such an amazing/awesomely bad sight that I got tears in my eyes. I also started thinking that maybe people who diss Celine are secretly afraid that they would do the exact same moves if they had her voice and those dramatic ballads.]
I had high hopes for The House Bunny, perhaps because I hadn't read Lisa Schwarzbaum's generous B- review of it. But when I finally saw it this weekend, I laughed approximately four times. (I say "approximately," because I think I would've laughed at the Simon Cowell joke if I hadn't seen the trailer, embedded below, so often.)
What about you? Tell me I haven't officially lost my sense of humor and that Anna Faris just deserves better material.
Variety columnist Anne Thompson has written an interesting piece titled "U.S. short on tough guy actors." "Where have the manly movie stars gone?" she asks. Why do directors, who could once turn to Steve McQueen (left), now need to look outside America for a macho man? (Hello, Russell Crowe, Jason Statham, and Gerard Butler.)
She deems Johnny Depp "fey" (at least in the Pirates trilogy), Brendan Fraser "goofy" (that's just his dual citizenship with Canada), Tom Cruise "out of his league" (Lions for Lambs) and comic-book superheroes Brandon Routh, Edward Norton, and Tobey Maguire all "boy-men." She acknowledges that we do have some actors — over the age of 50 — with enough balls weight to play the U.S. president (Harrison Ford, Bruce Willis, Morgan Freeman, Samuel L. Jackson, and Tommy Lee Jones). And that a few men are "seasoning well" (Will Smith, Matt Damon, Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and Nicolas Cage... just go with her on that last one). And yet, we still need to outsource many of our most rugged roles.
So, help Hollywood out: Are there "manly" American actors they're overlooking?* Thompson offers up Mad Men star Jon Hamm, and argues that his "laconic, mysterious, and masculine" presence is one explanation for that show's success. I concur. I find it curious that she didn't bother to address Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson (right), who can certainly kick ass and take names (and wear a suit). Or even Matthew McConaughey, who had the weightiest role in Tropic Thunder. It's because macho men don't really have that white of teeth, isn't it?
Yes, PopWatcher Leo once mentioned a Center Stage 2 in the comments section of a post, but I thought he/she was kidding!
Yesterday, my friend Eva (who not only saw Center Stage with me in theaters but also danced her way to the ladies' room afterward) forwarded me this link to the New York Post's GenPop blog. According to it, Center Stage: Turn it Up — love — will debut on Oxygen in November, before hitting DVD in January. Reportedly, Peter Gallagher (pictured, as Jonathan) returns long enough to enroll a self-taught prodigy in the American Ballet Academy, then give her the boot. Luckily, the young woman meets an ex-hockey player/ABA classmate — love — who gets her a job at a New York City club. GenPop predicts "an amazing dance-off to end all cinematic dance-offs." But how do they top the motorcycle's entrance? (Love. Watch it after the jump!)
Last January, PopWatchers called out certain networks for their questionable editing of feature films. Now, we'd like you to file charges against networks that are unintentionally inflicting bad editing on good TV. I'll go first…
The Perp: Logo. I first saw all five seasons of Showtime's Queer as Folk on YouTube, so I was looking forward to watching the late-night Logo repeats on my 26" flatscreen. That is until I saw episode 202. Spoiler alert circa 2002, that's the one where Brian (Gale Harold) has to help Justin (Randy Harrison), who'd been bashed at his prom in the first season finale, remember the near fatal attack so he can begin to move past it. The whole point is that Justin won't touch or allow himself to be touched, so it's a big deal when he finally tells Brian "I want you inside me." Only Logo cut it to "I want you." Then, the network cut the entire sex scene, which angered me not as someone who'd just started the weekend with multiple mojitos and would've been pleased to see a nude Brian Kinney, but as someone who knew that they'd trimmed a love scene that had actual character development. It's the first time we see Brian — who doesn't believe in love or romance — be that tender. The first (and maybe only?) time we believe that hedonistic Brian's primary concern in bed is his partner.
We asked Logo to explain what gives, and Marc Leonard, SVP of Multiplatform Programming, was kind enough to respond: Obviously, any show that goes from a paid cable channel such as Showtime or HBO to an ad-supported network like Logo will have to be trimmed to make room for commercials. "Of course we strongly avoid editing out the scenes that most significantly advance the story," he said in an email. "Some material is also edited for content. Audience expectations for content on ad-supported television channels are different than for paid TV channels, so basic cable and network outlets edit paid cable shows for this wider audience. Ad-supported channels edit content to exclude explicit sexual dialogue, nudity, expletives and gratuitous violence. And MTV Networks, Logo's parent company, is proud of its long-running tradition of applying the same policies across all channels equally, and treating LGBT sexual depictions the same as heterosexual ones."
When it comes to treasured childhood toys, I don't like change. Just ask anyone under seven in my family who has to deal with my constant complaining regarding the fact that Polly Pocket is no longer pocket-sized, thus making her whole name maddeningly misleading. So upon hearing the news that Hasbro decided to update its Clue board game to attract younger audiences, I was as red as the carpet in the library after Miss Scarlet was killed by Professor Plum with the revolver. Some of changes that make me cringe: The now-excessively pimped-out mansion will boast more rooms — including a spa and theater — and Colonel Mustard will shed his military garb in favor of a football uniform as a former sports star. And prepare to say goodbye to the lead pipe, which has been replaced by three new weapons — a trophy, a baseball bat, and an ax.
For me, the reason I stayed home on Saturday nights to play Clue loved the game was because it was so archaic. It was far more fun and silly to solve the crime when you imagined it being committed with such ridiculous turn-of-the-century objects as a lead pipe and a candlestick holder. (Michael Slezak, on the other hand, likes the addition of the ax, making his case with the irrefutable rebuttal, "Axes are hot.") Plus, Hasbro's going about this all wrong. Come on, if we're really going to make Clue modern, shouldn't Miss Scarlett — now with a first name: Cassandra — have a sex tape and her own E! reality show? And Hasbro should at least include a pair of sunglasses so players can tear them off David Caruso-style when they say, "Mrs. White, in the hot tub, with a bottle of Cristal. Looks like she showed her true colors."
So I'm at the movies yesterday and I order a medium Diet Coke. I get a little distracted by the Beverly Hills Chihuahua display behind me, and when I turn back around, the woman behind the counter is handing me a cup that's the approximate size (and weight) of a newborn baby.
Me: This is the medium?
Her: Yep.
Me: Seriously?
Her: I know… it's a little crazy.
Me: If this is medium, what's the large?
Her: We're out of large right now.
Me: [Pointing to a large bucket of popcorn.] Why not just use those?
Lucky for me, I was splitting the beverage in question with my husband, but still, by the time we left the theater, I couldn't shake the outrage (or was it carbonation?) in the pit of my stomach. Instead of tossing my cup in the trash, I lugged it home and photographed it alongside a half-gallon container of milk and a 750 ml bottle of vodka. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE?
The time had come to upgrade to a high-definition cable box/DVR, so yesterday afternoon the well-meaning folk at my cable company sent a guy over to do the swap for me. I was so busy admiring the shiny new piece of equipment atop my TV that I didn't bother hitting "List" button until he left, and that's when it struck me. I saw -- nothing. A big mess of blue where my roster of saved shows should've been. Everything I had recorded over the last few months was gone. Oh, the horror of it all. To quote my colleague Michael Slezak (who recently suffered his own cable-company indignity), "They figured out how to replace the human heart -- why can't they figure out how to transfer the contents of your cable box?"
What makes this so much worse than it should be is that I rarely watch shows when they air. Much like Annie Barrett is part of the slow movie movement, I am part of the slow TV movement. This also makes me a gorge-watcher: I wait until a rainy weekend, and watch 10+ hours in one sitting to catch up. Things that I lost in the trade: a half-dozen Wire episodes from season 5, four eps from season 4 of Lost (I'm not proud), all eight eps of the PBS doc The Great War, the first ep of Project Runway's fifth season, (and, erm, a half dozen from season four), two eps of Burn Notice, plus a severe Daily Show and Colbert backlog... oh, I can't go on. I thought writing this would be cathartic, but I just feel like I've been kicked in the solar plexus.
Have you ever lost your cable box, or an entire season of a show, and (temporarily) lost your mind? (And I know a lot of shows can be streamed online, but whatevs, it's just not the same thing!)
I thought I knew plenty about how the movie ratings board operates, but this interview in the Stanford alumni magazine with ratings board chair Joan Graves featured some admissions about board policy that were news to me, and that do not paint the system in a flattering light. Graves offers the usual disclaimers that the board is not about censorship (though when filmmakers and studios rely on your leniency in order to release and market their movies, that excuse rings hollow), but she does acknowledge for the first time that I've seen that there is "ratings creep" (that is, that the board has become more lax over the years about certain content, notably, gross-out humor), and that the board now looks at screenplays and tells filmmakers and studios what will and will not pass muster before even a single frame of film is shot. How does that differ at all from the censorship of the pre-1968 Production Code, when studios had to submit scripts to the Code censors before they could shoot? Graves does not say (and the interviewer* does not ask her).
Graves also implicitly acknowledges the longstanding complaint that the board is friendlier to studio films than to indie films by suggesting that the studios are better at gaming the system because they have full-time liaisons in place to deal with the board. She does say, however, that the board is now more likely to talk directly to the filmmakers than to go through a studio intermediary, so that's a positive step.
It's National Cellphone Courtesy Month, and my cellphone, Mr. Bilbo, which I'd had since like 2000 (named after a Kids in the Hall sketch, not Baggins), celebrated by going AWOL last week just long enough for me to think that I'd lost him. He knew that would be the only way I'd actually get off my butt and replace him. (I searched for him for two days before I agreed to upgrade. After I made the purchase, I found him on my kitchen floor.) While my friends initially thanked Mr. Bilbo for his sacrifice, some of them might now be having second thoughts. I'd never texted before I got this phone (ever), and I went a little finger-happy over the weekend. Apparently, I misjudged who needed to know asap that I'd just seen Tom Cavanaugh (pictured) on the street.
Me: Just saw tom cavanaugh on 8th ave. Heart him. At least he didn't see me twist my ankle. That happened well before then. Jim gaffigan almost got to see that. Michael Slezak: Whose number is this? Me: Lol. Mandi's. Slezak: You have a text prob...
I guess these first few weeks will be trial and error as I figure out my friends' individual text styles. (Celeb sighting + possible humiliation isn't worthy for everyone?) From now on, I will only expect my friend Eva to receive any and all texts from me without complaint. We never judge one another. Some texts she's sent me: "Paradise Hotel marathon yesterday -- missed the first half. Boo!" and "Just rode the elevator with Janice Dickinson."
So, what are the rules you follow? (You will never catch me texting during a movie -- how do people not realize that the light on the phone is distracting?) And what is the stupidest pop culture-related text you've sent? Granted, I've only got a week's worth to choose from, but I'm going to go with either "Watching I survived a japanese game show. They're gonna do the velcro wall. Yes!" or "Reading free copy of us mag. Did we know that your dave navarro is dating rock of love's daisy? How do we feel about that?"
Who else but Warren Beatty could garner tributes at his AFI Life Achievement Award ceremony, in the form of a stoner joke from Robert Downey Jr., a rap performance from Pras, and a pat on the back from Bill Clinton?
The Splendor in the Grass star brought some Old Hollywood glamor to the gala in his honor at the Kodak Theater, which aired Tuesday night on the USA network. There’s no question the man’s got charisma; his charm is the only remedy for watching even but a few moments of Ishtar. And his passion to get Bonnie and Clyde made is almost as legendary as its heroes -- apparently, Beatty knelt at the feet of studio boss Jack Warner and begged to get the film made.
But as much as I admire Beatty’s contributions to cinema in the '60s and '70s, he surely must have the thinnest filmography of any star of his stature -- he’s only made eight movies in the last thirty years. Compare that to Robert Duvall, who’s made almost 65 films in the same period! Of course, Beatty’s versatile as an actor and as a director, able to take on such diverse projects as Reds, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, and Dick Tracy.
But look at some of these other titles on his resume: The Fortune, Ishtar, Love Affair (I will never forgive him for making Katherine Hepburn say “F--- a duck”), Town & Country. And even going back to his Hollywood golden-boy days of the '60s and early '70s, we find such forgettable entries as Promise Her Anything, Kaleidoscope, The Only Game in Town, and $. Call me a film snob, but I’m even a bit of a skeptic when it comes to Bonnie. Part of me thinks the film just rips off French New Wave movies that did it better, such as Breathless,Jules and Jim, and Pierrot le fou.
What do you think, PopWatchers? Is Beatty all that? Or do you think there was another overlooked icon more deserving of the award? Maybe I’m just bitter that Woody Allen still hasn’t been honored.
I've been living in New York for almost six months now, but I still get a little nervous when someone asks me where I'm from. I know exactly what their reaction will be: a quizzical frown followed by a hardy chuckle. Would someone please tell me what is so funny about the great town of Walla Walla, Washington (the place so nice they named it twice)?
After the laughing subsides, I usually get one of two responses, depending on their age. If it's someone in their 40s or older, I usually get an, "Oh yes, like that 'ting tang, walla walla, bing bang' song!" But if it's someone closer to my age, I get a much more irksome reply.
The first time it happened was during a summer study tour in London. I ended up chatting with a fellow American I met in my dorm, and when she heard where I was from, she affected a semi-disgusted frown and sneered, "You mean like Tonya from the Real World?" Yes, my town's pop culture claim to fame is its brightest celebrity star, the trashtastic Tonya Cooley from Real World: Chicago (pictured).
The Limewire blog has compiled a collection of YouTube clips that capture rock stars' less-than-composed moments. But before you peep, be forewarned — angry rock stars are more likely than not to use unladylike language, so very few of these are SFW. A few choice vids: Fall Out Boy's Pete Wentz gets embroiled in a mob scene that looks — and sounds — downright scary, while KISS's Paul Stanley segues from a ballad (he ends it with a sincere "God bless you all!") to, "Hey schmuck! Take the laser out one more time and I'll put it right up your ass! Promise." (The "promise" is my favorite part — as if anyone would question a threat posed by a man wearing Spandex and platform boots.)
One PG-13 exception here is Björk, captured below in an infamous 1996 incident at a Bangkok airport. She's greeted by a British journalist, who tells the pop star, "Welcome to Bangkok," and Bjork's reply is a left uppercut, followed by some hair pulling. (Björk's record label later claimed that the reporter had been pestering her for days.)
Have you ever witnessed a rock star meltdown? Or a brawl at a rock show? Share!
Passionate people can be demanding, as we established when we confessed our pop-culture relationship deal breakers. But I do believe that we are also, at least occasionally, capable of extraordinary acts of kindness.
For instance, last night, at the end of a phone conversation with my mother, she said there was something that she wanted my opinion on...
"What do you know about that new Justin Timberlake movie?" she asked.
Instantly, I panicked, because I'm going to be vacationing with my mother next week after that film opens. "The Love Guru?" I answered. "I know I haven't laughed at any of the trailers."
Silence.
"You want to see it, don't you?" I said, with a huff not heard since she told me that we wouldn't be waiting around for the second Air Supply show at DelGrosso's Amusement Park following the rain-out of the first.
"I've never seen Justin Timberlake in a movie. [That's him, pictured, in The Love Guru.] I'd like to see him act."
I must really love my mother — or have had too much wine to drink at dinner — because I said I'd see The Damn Love Guru.
What entertainment-related sacrifices have you made in the name of love (or friendship)?
I was all set to write a scathing PopWatch post this morning about how that skateboarding dog in the ads for CBS' Greatest American Dog should not be allowed on the show. He was on Oprah, and I only want to see amateur dogs compete for the title. Fortunately, however, I just learned that GAD's skateboader is named Tillman (pictured, left), while Oprah's was Tyson (pictured, right). Controversy averted. Whew.
Meet the contestants for Greatest American Dog, premiering July 10, below. (Let me know if any of them are famous.) And tell me: How wrong is it that the loser of each canine challenge has to sleep in a doghouse in the backyard? It's only cruel because you know that none of those dogs has ever seen a doghouse before, and it's not like they chose to be on a competitive reality show.
Currently, there is an email chain clogging the inboxes of EW's TV department, and it began with a link to Tom O'Neil's Gold Derby awards blog and the question, "She's trying to get out of the show, isn't she?"
The she is Grey's Anatomy Emmy winner Katherine Heigl, who was asked by Gold Derby to explain why her name wasn't on the TV Academy's list of Emmy contenders. Her response: "I did not feel that I was given the material this season to warrant an
Emmy nomination and in an effort to maintain the integrity of the
academy organization, I withdrew my name from contention. In addition, I did not want to potentially take away an
opportunity from an actress who was given such materials."
Was this selfless act noble, presumptuous, or a clear attempt to piss off the Grey's producers so they'll send her far, far away (to a place where she can pursue that film career year round)?
Ever get pissed at one of those "In order to love you, I have to let you go" endings? (See: The Bodyguard. There's no reason that Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner couldn't be together since he's no longer protecting her, and we've already suspended belief enough to see them together in the first place.) Or, maybe there's an ambiguous ending that's always annoyed you. (They start conversations, yes, but sometimes what we're saying is, "We've followed your vision for two hours, Mr./Ms. Director. Don't wimp out at the end. It's your story — make a choice.")
Well, now you can address those resolutions — or, at least whine about them to people who might second your frustrations — in the comments section below. "Endings" can mean the actual final moments of a movie, TV series, or book, or the sign-off of a particular storyline or character throughout. Two rules: (1) Please list the name of the show, movie, or book you're altering first, IN ALL CAPS, so spoiler-phobes can decide whether or not to read your entry. (I figured The Bodyguard was a safe enough example to picture since "I Will Always Love You," below, is kinda self-explanatory, and famous.) (2) Do not get mad at PopWatch if you can't stop yourself and read something you shouldn't.
... canceled movie plans Saturday night because there was nothing that I needed to see badly enough that I would go down into a New York City subway tunnel, wait for a train, and sweat. Instead, I stayed home and Hulu'd seven episodes of Vanished, the "Smoking" (below) and "Rat Funeral" episodes of NewsRadio, and the pilot of Remington Steele.
After reading the comments on my post mourning CBS' cancellation of Moonlight (pictured), in which some viewers vow to boycott the network, and those on Abby West's Bones season finale preview and postmortem, in which a handful of fans threaten to abandon the Fox drama after its rushed resolution to the Gormogon case, I'm wondering how often people actually follow through on such promises.
So, tell me: Have you ever boycotted an entire network? Or gone cold turkey on a show because you felt it did you wrong? And how long did you hold out? I'm fascinated.
Slezak: Mandi, I just came out of the Idol Cave to discover that ABC canceled Women's Murder Club (with Angie Harmon, left) this week. How am I supposed to go on? Slezak: Maybe it wasn't a hit in America, but it was a hit in my home. I am distraught. (Seriously!) Mandi: I'd tell you to take comfort in the best-when-bare arms of Moonlight's Alex O'Loughlin (right), but that show got s---canned, too. Mandi: If Mick and Beth don't get it on in Friday night's season finale, you will see me distraught. Why did I let myself get sucked in? (Pun not intended. But enjoyed!) Mandi: By the way, I sat through the entire season of October Road, too. Now we'll never know who that kid's father is. And worse, Geoff Stults has no reason to leave me voicemails offering to dance shirtless in my office. Just cruel. Slezak: What is wrong with this country? Slezak: And if the Moonlight producers didn't shoot a little wah-chicka-wah-wah in anticipation of potential cancellation, what is wrong with THEM? Slezak: Clearly, this was not a good week for middling programming that's very fun to watch with the brain shut off. Slezak: I'm going to go find a mojito... you in? Mandi: Can't. I've got to catch up on seven seasons of According to Jim.
Which cancellations are you mourning? After the jump, we list the major casualties for quick and easy reference.
Is today Superfluous Day? From the Dept. of Sequels and Remakes No One Asked For, we have trade reports today of follow-ups to Point Break (presumably, sans Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze, pictured) and Fahrenheit 9/11 (this time, Michael Moore will offer a subtle, nuanced critique of the Bush presidency... heh, just kidding), as well as a remake of Bad Lieutenant that will star Nicolas Cage in the Harvey Keitel role. No word on whether Cage will duplicate Harvey Keitel's notorious full-frontal scene in that movie, but all three of these projects sound like displays of things no one wanted to see. Still, in honor of another Keanu movie, let's play devil's advocate for a moment and ask: is there any way these films might actually be good? Any way they might actually explore areas that were sadly neglected in the original films? (And what might those areas have been?)
My current nominee for the four most annoying words in the English language: "Dramatization: Do not attempt."
Yeah, yeah, I'm sure there's some very important legal reason Quiznos needed to slap said disclaimer on its new ad showing the old woman at the laundromat devouring a five-dollar bill, but if someone is actually dumb enough to attempt such a shenanigan at home, doesn't he or she deserve a few troubling digestive side-effects?
Similarly, do we as a society need to protect LG buyers who run over their outdated washing machines with steamrollers? ("But the pretty lady in the ad made it look so easy!") And I know Dennis Haysbert has a really commanding speaking voice, but I don't think it should be grounds for a lawsuit if some loony watches dude's Allstate "People, Not Drivers" spot and gets the idea to hook up her treadmill in the middle of a freeway overpass. (Where would she plug it in, anyway?)
Come on, PopWatchers, tell me I'm not the only one who gets a little overdramatic about the prevalence of "dramatization" disclaimers in today's ads. Next thing you know Geico's going to have to hold a press conference to announce that the gecko's not really talking.
It's been nearly 48 hours since I last touched the dead grass of the Empire Polo Fields in Indio, PopWatchers, but after two consecutive weekends of music festival goodness, I'm having a hard time letting go. Specifically, I can't get over the pained reactions from several of you Pink Floyd fans to my dismissal of Roger Waters' set at Coachella. It seems you come out in force to defend your rock gods: My friend and picnic-table companion Maura faced the same rage after her post over on Idolator, and even Willman's informed, articulate critique here led to howling.
So I got to thinking: Surely I'm not the only one who can't make it all the way through the pretentious muddle of Dark Side of the Moon (pictured), thought "Another Brick in the Wall Pt. 2" was barely listenable even before classic rock stations beat it to death with the over-programming stick, and never once spent any time staring at a blacklight poster while playing "Mother" on repeat and crying a little because it's just so deep, man. Of course, from an objective standpoint, I can recognize the talent/craft involved; I can even occasionally tolerate "Wish You Were Here" — although nine out of ten times I mistake it for "I Wish It Would Rain Down." And yes, I understand the Pink Floyd influence on several of the groups I legitimately enjoy today. But do I have to actively like and/or be exposed to Pink Floyd in order to have this understanding? Ugh. Please. No.
Your turn, PopWatchers: What seminal band (or solo artist) can you not stand? Now's the time to get it off your chest. And hey, you can be anonymous, so one ever need know you secretly harbor a passionate hatred for the Beatles and everything those demented Liverpudlians* stood for! Let it out!
Thanks to The New York Post, we saw this piece in Broadcasting & Cable that suggests producers are thinking of tweaking specific components of American Idol next season. According to B&C, a recent online market research survey asks several key questions, including “Suppose the first few weeks of American Idol started in Hollywood with flashbacks of the auditions; would that increase or decrease your enjoyment of American Idol?” (My answer: Increase! Am I in the minority?)
Among the other questions, which B&C paraphrases, are: Is there too much or too little
banter between the judges? And is there too much or not enough Ryan? (Considering I fast-forward through any "banter" and any "Ryan," I'm guessingmy answer is too much. Though, full disclosure, I also fast-forward through anything that's not one of the contestants singing on stage.)
So, let's help Fox out. Answer those questions below. And feel free to mention any other areas you'd like producers to target. It's a broken record, at this point, to say that the results show needs to be overhauled... but go for it.
Ever since Annie Barrett posted an open letter to her ultimatum-giving DVR/life partner a year ago, I've been living in fear that my DVR would one day develop a mind of its own. On April 7, it happened. It was set to record the return of Samantha Who?, which I was particularly psyched for because it appeared to be a Barry Watson-heavy episode. My recorded shows list said the episode was waiting for me, but when I tried to play it, all I got was a dark screen. Hell no. After a few more failed attempts (it turns out that screaming calmly pleading "plaaay," as you select play from the beginning doesn't help), I gave up and just wanted the listing gone. My DVR/life partner wouldn't let me delete it. It was as though it wanted it to sit there in the queue — like some severed head skewered on a stake in the middle of a medieval town square as a warning — to remind me that it could, in fact, crush me whenever it wanted to. And I realize I got lucky this time: It wasn't a show that I write a TV Watch for. It wasn't a series premiere or a season finale. It wasn't an episode that couldn't be viewed on the network's website. But the next time, it could be. (Shudder.)
So, because we're all about the group therapy on PopWatch, I think it's time we all share our most painful DVR mishaps. I've got a friend in L.A. whose DVR just decided not to tape America's Next Top Model for the third week in a row. She's not amused. My coworker Gretchen Hansen says her DVR fought back recently, also around the time of a scheduled Top Model recording — could the machines be working together? — by "blinking like it was picking up signals from outside our solar system. Then it started playing the toe pick scene from the movie The Cutting Edge, and THEN it died." ("Wait, you have The Cutting Edge on your DVR, Gretchen?" "It's on my DVR twice. Why? Don't ask me. Ask my DVR.")
According to early results of our homepage poll, 43 percent of you are worried that Project Runway will change if the show does, in fact, move to Lifetime this fall as planned. I have to say I'm surprised: Last night, at my friend Robb's birthday party, people seemed far more concerned about The Golden Girls leaving Lifetime for Hallmark Channel in spring 2009. Apparently, a lot of people like to fall asleep to "The Girls," which Lifetime plays from 1 a.m. to 2 a.m.
How do you feel about that move? I've already had to learn what number Hallmark is on my dial (it was that Andrew McCarthy/Teri Polo movie Straight from the Heart that got me), so though I don't like change, I can deal. I just hope Lifetime knows what it's doing by focusing on original programming...
On this week's October Road — yes, I'm still watching; no Geoff Stults hasn't danced shirtless in my office yet — Physical Phil got mad at Pizza Girl when they were screening The Dirty Dozen (featuring Robert Ryan and Charles Bronson, pictured) and she didn't ask him to press pause when she left the room to get more salsa. To Phil, her not asking for "pause-press" meant that she didn't get the movie, doesn't value what's important to him, and may not care when he tells her that the girl he liked when he was 10 years old just died. While that last part is somewhat of a leap, I'm guessing we can all relate to points No. 1 and 2. Which got me wondering: What are your friendship or relationship deal breakers when it comes to pop culture?
Maybe there's a TV show, movie, album, or book that you need someone to "get" if you're going to be close to him or her. (Buffy the Vampire Slayer anyone? I actually have friends who haven't seen it yet, but none who haven't seen it and dare to dismiss it as a kids' show.) Or, maybe your deal breaker is something more philosophical, like the "pause-press" issue. l, for instance, know that the man I marry will need to want a cable package comparable to or better than my current one. He'll also agree to give any show or movie a try if it really means that much to me. Because it does.
This weekend, I was walking behind two men who were discussing Varsity Blues, one of their favorite "college movies." I thought about correcting them, but didn't, because (A) I knew I wouldn't stop at telling them that it's actually set in high school. I'd also have to share how, when I saw the film on opening weekend, the entire row I was sitting with said the "I don't want your life" line along with James Van Der Beek. And (B) These gentlemen appeared to appreciate the film mostly for the whipped cream scene, and quickly launched into a conversation about their preferred cup size.
But back to the question at hand: Have you ever been tempted to correct a factual error you overheard a stranger make in a pop-culture conversation? And if you did, how was your input received? I've piped up when I've heard people struggling to name a song or movie or TV show. That's just being helpful. But I've never had the cojones to correct them on something they think they know.
Even if you're not stuck at work in snowy New York City, you can still play along, I'm sure. At this moment... I could really go for a Grumpy Old Men double feature. I suppose this fuzzy montage of Burgess Meredith's finest (foul-mouthed) moments from the films will have to do.
During this week's Project Runway Great Drape Debate — was Rami wrong to design yet another Grecian dress for the judges? — I resurrected an internal debate of my own. Should contestants on talent-based reality series be forced to do something that in no way represents what she or he will do in real life, post-show? I haven't looked at the photos from last week's Project Runway finale fashion show in Bryant Park because I don't want the spoilers, but it'd be a shame if Rami designed his entire collection — an opportunity to establish his identity in the industry — without his signature look just to make Nina Garcia happy. Before you slap me, know that I, too, was bored by Rami's dress this week. I just think there had to have been a way for him to stay in the Greek and Roman gallery and still wow the panel like he did with his first Runway dress (pictured, left).
Of course, I get that shows need drama for good TV, and most often, that involves pushing people outside their comfort zone. But sometimes it seems wrong to force them there, then turn around and say, "You suck." It bothers me infinitely more on American Idol, when I have to sit through a rocker singing a standard or a country song poorly, and then listen to Simon and co. say that it wasn't his best night. Really? You could argue that true artists find a way to make any genre their own, and I can buy that. But these are not established artists we're seeing. Occasionally, couldn't they have the chance to perfect something, instead of being forced to try everything? What do you think?
Question: Do you ever search YouTube for a particular scene from a TV show or movie, think you've found it, then find yourself watching a crap montage set to an even crappier ballad and needing to slap someone?
In general, I'm not a huge fan of videos that set scenes to music.* (Though I will occasionally sit through one, if the creator's literal interpretation of the song's lyrics proves amusing enough.) That said, I can happily coexist with them if their posters would always label them clearly as a montage — and preferably with the song selection in the title or About This Video description. Too much to ask?
* If faced with a montage, I prefer slideshows, like the NINE-MINUTE tribute to David Boreanaz below.
Enough time has passed that I can watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding again, and actually enjoy it—which is what I was doing this weekend until TBS cut short the scene where Toula (Nia Vardalos) and Ian (John Corbett) are sitting on the floor of the travel agency. It's a romantic comedy, which means you don't tamper with the part where the guy asks the girl out on their first date. (The scene ended with Ian's mispronunciation of Toula's last name. Awkward—as opposed to awkward yet endearing, like the original cut.) Am I wrong? What other edits-for-time have annoyed you lately?
According to a new survey (cited by The Hollywood Reporter), 38 percent of people watch TV shows online. This seems like:
a) news that the WGA might be interested in.
b) an opportunity for me to post about how annoyed I am that Boston Legal (starring James Spader and William Shatner, pictured) isn't among the shows wit
When you visit YouTube, do you ever look at the three videos the site has "Recommended for You," based on your search history? I didn't think there could be anything more mortifying than what popped up at the top of the recommendation list this morning: "Jensen Ackles sings! Pictures of Jensen Ackles shirtless, set to two short clips of Jensen singing." (I am not that much of a horndog, YouTube. Did I watch it?...Not the point!) 
Reasons I went to an 11 a.m. showing of Beverly Hills Chihuahua today:
I suppose there are still some aging punk purists who will tear their last tufts of spiked hair out over John Lydon's gleefully crass and pandering ad for Country Life butter. (Watch it 
Oh no! 
As I write this, my DVR is a few short hours away from taping The CW's Privileged and CBS's The Mentalist and not Fox's Fringe at 9 p.m. ET. I have my reasons, but I've been second-guessing the decision all day. Were I a sane person, it wouldn't matter: I know I can watch Fringe tomorrow on Hulu, and I'm not a Nielsen family, so I don't have to feel guilty for affecting the show's ratings 
So I'm watching the best-of Cybill Shepherd's '95-'98 CBS sitcom 
Which of these two in-the-works books sounds worse, 
Last night, I bought a last-minute ticket to see Celine Dion at Madison Square Garden with my friend Robb, his friend Louis, and Louis' boyfriend Jorge. (This sounds like a Kathy Griffin bit...) I took notes:
Variety columnist Anne Thompson has written an interesting piece titled 
Yes, PopWatcher Leo once mentioned a Center Stage 2 in the comments section of 
Last January, PopWatchers called out certain networks for their 
When it comes to treasured childhood toys, I don't like change. Just ask anyone under seven in my family who has to deal with my constant complaining regarding the fact that Polly Pocket is no longer pocket-sized, thus making her whole name maddeningly misleading. So upon hearing the news that 
So I'm at the movies yesterday and I order a medium Diet Coke. I get a little distracted by the Beverly Hills Chihuahua display behind me, and when I turn back around, the woman behind the counter is handing me a cup that's the approximate size (and weight) of a newborn baby.
The time had come to upgrade to a high-definition cable box/DVR, so yesterday afternoon the well-meaning folk at my cable company sent a guy over to do the swap for me. I was so busy admiring the shiny new piece of equipment atop my TV that I didn't bother hitting "List" button until he left, and that's when it struck me. I saw -- nothing. A big mess of blue where my roster of saved shows should've been. Everything I had recorded over the last few months was gone. Oh, the horror of it all. To quote my colleague Michael Slezak (who recently suffered his own 
It's National Cellphone Courtesy Month, and my cellphone, 
Who else but Warren Beatty could garner tributes at his AFI Life Achievement Award ceremony, in the form of a stoner joke from Robert Downey Jr., a rap performance from Pras, and a pat on the back from Bill Clinton?
I've been living in New York for almost six months now, but I still get a little nervous when someone asks me where I'm from. I know exactly what their reaction will be: a quizzical frown followed by a hardy chuckle. Would someone please tell me what is so funny about the great town of Walla Walla, Washington (the place so nice they named it twice)?
Passionate people can be demanding, as we established when we confessed 
I was all set to write a scathing PopWatch post this morning about how that skateboarding dog in the ads for CBS' 
Currently, there is an email chain clogging the inboxes of EW's TV department, and it began with a link to 
After reading the comments on 
Slezak: Mandi, I just came out of the Idol Cave to discover that ABC canceled Women's Murder Club (with Angie Harmon, left) this week. How am I supposed to go on?
Is today Superfluous Day? From the Dept. of Sequels and Remakes No One Asked For, we have trade reports today of follow-ups to 
It's been nearly 48 hours since I last touched the dead grass of the Empire Polo Fields in Indio, PopWatchers, but after two consecutive weekends of music festival goodness, I'm having a hard time letting go. Specifically, I can't get over the pained reactions from several of you Pink Floyd fans to 
Thanks to The New York Post, we saw 
According to early results of our homepage poll, 43 percent of you are worried that Project Runway will change if the show does, in fact, 
On this week's October Road — yes, I'm still watching; no Geoff Stults hasn't 
This weekend, I was walking behind two men who were discussing Varsity Blues, one of their favorite "college movies." I thought about correcting them, but didn't, because (A) I knew I wouldn't stop at telling them that it's actually set in high school. I'd also have to share how, when I saw the film on opening weekend, the entire row I was sitting with said the "I don't want your life" line along with James Van Der Beek. And (B) These gentlemen appeared to appreciate the film mostly for the whipped cream scene, and quickly launched into a conversation about their preferred cup size.
During 
Enough time has passed that I can watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding again, and actually enjoy it—which is what I was doing this weekend until TBS cut short the scene where Toula (Nia Vardalos) and Ian (John Corbett) are sitting on the floor of the travel agency. It's a romantic comedy, which means you don't tamper with the part where the guy asks the girl out on their first date. (The scene ended with Ian's mispronunciation of Toula's last name. Awkward—as opposed to awkward yet endearing, like the original cut.) Am I wrong? What other edits-for-time have annoyed you lately?
According to a