Tuesday, without a cluesday.

Well, first, there’s this:

from here and here.

Wow. That’s just a terrible picture. But it’s an instant classic example of FAIL, right? I’ve really grown tired of FAIL and the people who say FAIL ad nauseam, but this time, it’s justified. FAIL. An equal amount of fail to me, actually, is this picture:

ScarJo and Sandra Bullock sharing a calculated kiss at an MTV something or other? Fuck, could there be anything more boring?

Of course, it’s hard to get too excited about an awards show that’s seemingly calculated and concocted just to test the waters for a spin off movie starring a character that was a silly throwaway cameo in a previous comedy film and was assayed by an actor who had had some problems in recent years. Well, I guess the experiment worked.

I miss the classic train wreck celebs. Otherwise known as the genuine people tossed into the world of the glitz and glamor and stumbling magnificently in front of all of us. Too often celebs are no different from whatever brand of jeans or laundry detergent you’re buying. They’re just another product. Their lives are delicately planned and coordinated PR campaigns, as thoroughly put together as your average storyline in professional wrestling. And who’s the more remembered wrestlers usually?

The villains.

Who gives a shit about the heroes?

I’m tired and it’s hot and it’s 2010 and right now, I just don’t give a shit about all the goodness and sunshine in the world. Maybe I will later when it cools down and the stars come out and I’ve had a cocktail or three or four, but right now all I want to see are the naughty bits.

Or the crazy fun bits, I don’t know, maybe.

Or maybe I’m only happy when it rains?

I don’t want to see the super heroes today. I want to see the super villains, the ones who crawl their way out of their comic book storylines and snort a few lines between the panels of art and story.

from here.

The Sandra Bullock/Jesse James story… I have nothing to add to this. America’s Sweetheart and the motorcycle guy with tattoos and he cheats on her with a girl with neck tattoo and Nazi-esque leanings. It’s fascinating on the surface and the more you dig, it’s sad. And weird. Like a perfect soap opera storyline that’s mutated and crawled it’s way into real life.

And granted, these are people’s names being dragged through the mud and vilified and hearts are being broken and it’s making somebody somewhere money. A lot of money.

Actually, it’s probably making everyone in this situation a lot of money, in different ways. And it’s just one of billions of celebrity headlines that I feel like I’m bombarded with on a weekly basis and it only leaves me hollow. And more and more, I feel like it’s just people playing a role, filling a requirement that’s out there.

In an easy “no duh” statement, are celebrities are doing the work of our pornographers, but we look down on one (aspect of ourselves) and seem to praise and adore another.

This has nothing to do with anything, I just thought it was funny.

I’m not really going to dissect it because I really have nothing to add to it. Complaints, maybe, but it feels pointless to complain about it, like maybe I should be saving my breath for something else, something important. Between Sandy and Jesse and Heidi and Spencer and Tom and Katie (and Suri/L. Ron, Jr.) all the other potential Bennifers and Brangelinas out there, the last one that really made feel anything (and it was laughter) was some headline about how the thing that attracted Brad to Angelina and broke up his marriage to Jennifer was that she (Angelina) gave really great rimjobs and apparently that’s what Brad is into it. I mean, that’s so surreal and absurd and I absolutely hope it’s true because, as ridiculous as it could potentially be, it at least feels human to me. And I miss that, and I really wish that I could turn on the TV and see a bunch of humans doing something…

I mean, look at this: The Queen of England knighting Patrick Stewart. That’s just great. And yet, I look at it and all I see is an old robot being plugged and marching out of her crate to do some ceremonial animatronics on the king of Shakespearean Sci Fi.

The other night I was talking to Maria and I threatened to do a blog post of nothing but pictures of celebrities drunk because I was feeling low and that would give me a temporary laugh.

And Maria, the classic enabler that she wonderfully is, merely said, “DO IT!”

Some day I’m worried that I might. Out of desperation, fatigue, or boredom, I don’t know. Reiterating from yesterday’s post

…but either way: Internet, give me something new. Please, I beg you. Show me something with flash or sparkle, something that’ll make me laugh or widen my eyes, and I’ll potentially follow you anywhere.

Here We Go.

Roman Polanski: Art is not enough.

Alan Moore’s new fanzine: Dodgem Logic.

Illusions: What’s in a face?

James Ellroy’s American Apocalypse.

Why do women have sex?

Autism may be more common than previously thought.

Top court overturns Italian prime minister’s immunity.

On sex and marriage.

Here We Go.”

Gay men in danger in Iraq.

Man’s skull grows back after 50 years.

Teenager details rape by Joe Francis.

Afghan Taliban say they pose no threat to the West.

Tyler Perry reveals that he was abused as a child.

Pierre Chang does not like being lied to.

Archaeologists unearth 17th century bottle used to scare off witches.

10 reasons not to bring someone back from the dead.

Franken passes bill to help contractors raped abroad.

I’d like to say that I’d like to see less rape in the news, but really what I mean is I’d like to see less rape in the world.

Major breast cancer breakthrough announced.

Want to switch your biological clock around?

Indian shot for public urination.

“Everyone is everyone. The specifics hardly matter.”

The other day I finally got around to watching Charlie Kaufman‘s directorial debut, Synecdoche, New¬† York.

I don’t so much want to review it as just talk about it. In fact, when I do “reviews” here, that’s usually the strategy I try to take: Just talking. Maybe get some things off my chest, out of my head, possibly even start up a conversation down the line with someone who has something interesting to say. That’s hard to do on the internet. Everyone’s an asshole, myself included, too busy trying to be cool, trying to put others down to make themselves look better in comparison hopefully. But, like a character says in this film, “everyone is disappointing… when you get to know them.”

So, that said, at some point soon, I want to talk about this film. Have you seen it? You should.

Please do.

Fiona Apple and Jon Brion.

Here’s a link to the ending, not because I want you to click on it and watch it without seeing the movie, but for myself. Just for myself. It’s an amazing, note perfect ending. More on that soon.

Instead, for now, here’s Charlie Kaufman talking a little about the film:

It’s interesting that the interviewer here makes him “defend” a certain comment he had made earlier, that “theater is alive and film is dead,” meaning that you can go to watch a play every night, five nights in a row, and it will always be different. It’s live, it’s real, and no matter what, it will happen differently in some way. You can go to see a film every night for five nights in a row and it will always be the same. It’s you that’s different. And Kaufman made his comment about how he was trying with Synecdoche, New York to make a film that blurred those lines, that did seem to happen differently to you each time you viewed it. And to an extent, it works.

from here.

In a brief aside, you need to watch this. You need to. You claim to like movies and films? I’ve heard this called by a beautiful title: My God, It’s Full of Movies, and you need to see it.

But before I go: music. Brilliantly, Jon Brion’s music in Synecdoche, New York is almost invisible. I remember the song from the end credits, I remember just the faintest little bits here and there, but for the most part, I don’t recall his score at all. Which works perfectly here.

The always wonderful Kate Winslet in Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind.

I don’t always love his music in films, in fact, I prefer his music that ends up outside of movies more, but I tend to enjoy how he works his music film into the film. That’s a combination of both himself and the director, but he tends to work with some of the best of the commercially experimental directors out there: David O. Russell and Michel Gondry and P. T. Anderson, and now Charlie Kaufman. For example: Take the train scene in Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind. The music is fine, a little silly and goofy, but fits. But what makes it really work is that the music only plays when the characters are talking and interacting with each other in their first meeting here. When they stop talking, the music stops, and you feel the awkward silence grow between them.

But for more of his music from films, I give you the track “Here We Go,” written for Punch-Drunk Love, but was unused because P.T. Anderson felt it was a little too on the nose lyrically:

And lastly, from the Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind soundtrack, the song “Strings That Tie To You,” because I think it’s a lovely song and a fitting one: