In keeping with franchise tradition, not one of them appears to be an actual housewife.
At least so far, any casting office hopes that Paul Wharton might emerge as DC's answer to Da-wight have been stultifyingly dashed. He comes off more like a 5th Housewife version of last season's Alex McCord: so abysmally lacking in skankitude that you wonder if he signed up for the wrong show by mistake.
Or maybe he's there to tell Mary ("Michaele was in her perfectly coiffed riding jodhpurs and boots.") that clothing items do not sport a hairdo.
Clicking around the internets, "Cat," the one who kept bragging about her husband being the Lord High Photographer was just sad. She reminded me of Kelly on RHNY, who seems to get way too much of her sense of identity from having once been married to a famous photographer, who in turn, reminds me of Brody Jenner, who reminds us every 15 minutes that his biomom once dated Elvis.
She seems to be one of those love her or hate her characters - her admiration for a beloved political figure was appreciated by the predictable half of US viewers, while her comment that "all British children aspire to be American children" seems to have resonated a little less with the rest of the world, some even going so far as to disagree with her outright, asserting that British children are quite pleased to be British and do not long to be another nationality.
I tend to agree with those who have questioned whether the show will really be a good cultural fit.
In fact, I predict it will require extensive post-production to keep it from being labeled as "inflammatory," which might not be good for either the franchise or the network.
Stacie has already made herself a mess of enemies.
For a person of color to mention the existence of racism is extremely displeasing to many US white folks, who receive a very real psychological benefit from the belief that both slavery and apartheid happened some time during the early Pleistocene era, and have long been completely absent from the heart of all white Americans with the possible exception of a couple of toothless crackhead Aryan gang members who are now safely behind bars now anyway, so African Americans should, if I may quote approximately 7 squillion internet comments "get over it."
In fairness, people, including white folks, watch these shows for the skankiness and schadenfreude, not to be reminded of bandaids on sucking societal chest wounds or herds of elephants tromping around the TV, both tall orders for any show set in Washington, even if the only cast member with any claim to a "political connection" is the dude that takes PR stills of the current on-camera talent.
I guess Bravo gets props for going there at all.
My guess is that they were maybe targeting an older audience, and hoping that the prevailing viewer reaction would be more in accord with an offline comment I overheard: a polyester-clad matron in a small southern town referred to the DC ladies as "real classy," and went on to declare that they represent her "ideal America."
I'm skeptical that any generation will bestow upon these Housewives the mantle of "ultimate aspirational character" bestowed on Lauren Conrad and The Hills gang.
At least we jaded Snark extremists get our usual helping of the delicious characteristic Real Housewife staple of people with dramatically annoying personalities acting really trashy while tossing around not-so-subtle insinuations about how superior they are to everybody else. ;)
Cat and Stacie may have their share of fans and haters, but the unquestioned stars of the show are "The Salahis."
We may not know the name of the covert Bravo operative who returned from that 1st reconnaissance mission into the mean salons of Washington with orders to sniff out Hamsters Most Likely, who discovered this pair of prizes, but we do know that whoever s/he is, that will be one hard-to-top career triumph.
Ditto for the marketing genius who thought up Operation Party Crash, and double ditto if the same person cast the Salahis in it.
It was a Cultural Fit Powerball, with just the right Golden Drop of subliminal Retsyn (ouch. Obscure allusion to 60s breath mint commercial? Really?)
And now, a moment of silence to acknowledge the awesome power of television - even really bad television. No other force, man-made or natural could so instantly transform a couple of lacklustre practitioners of petty sleaze to Defcon 5 Level Public Enemies.
He, whose principal resume bullets include a spurt of short-term employment related to implementation of business decisions on behalf of some US "key industries," and an equally non-stellar attempt to run the family wine business, the latter culminating in a lawsuit-embellished family squabble, appears to excel only at playing polo.
Michaele, a retail cosmetics counter clerk by profession, had hoped to obtain wealth and fame by becoming a fashion model, but believe it or not, not every blonde ectomorph who auditions is cast, and she will be neither the first nor the last pretty girl who, after an accurate evaluation and assessment of her own natural talents and aptitudes vis a vis the marketplace, accurately determines that her best chance of acquiring a large bank balance is marriage to an already-wealthy man.
The current chorus of US viewers flooding the internets with outraged calls for their imprisonment, tarring and feathering and extermination by live burning are predictable (and I'm gonna guess also predicted) and consistent with the culture, but that any two people of such spectacular mediocrity would inspire such a tsunami of any sentiment among any population is such an incongruous absurdity - and such a monumental feat of marketing, that I predict it will be the opening chapter in textbooks on the subject unto the 7th generation.
It's also, judging from these first episodes, anyway, the DC franchise's one chance at getting high enough ratings to placate the suits in the accounting department.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
The Bachelor/ette: Is Roberto Really Hot? Ethnic Ambiguity, Demographics, & Beauty
Call me a love-grinch if you will, a jaded Debbie Downer of romance, an old fuddy-duddy who just doesn't understand the young folks and their new-fangled ways, but even setting aside my somewhat limited capacity for suspension of disbelief with respect to reality shows in general, I have just not been able to jump on the rainbow-and-My-Little-Pony-festooned bandwagon of misty-eyed wonder at the latest candidates for the Great Lovers of All Time Hall of Fame.
Judging from the media and prevailing chatter, online and off, the level and intensity of admiration and adulation for this couple is unprecedented in Bachelor History!
The range of opinions, the ongoing battle between belief and suspension of disbelief, the pragmatists and the faithful, invariably plays out into a much more full-bodied entertainment experience than actually sitting there watching it.
Full disclosure: Although I do have it as a tivoid timer, and dutifully make a sincere effort to watch every episode in its entirety, I admit that I have, on more than one occasion, fallen asleep.
The human mind - or at least my allegedly human mind - can only endure a limited amount of helicopter rides and pageant-worthy comments about the importance of family and being real, and the phrases "here for the right reasons" and "one on one time" can cause my eyes to close and my head to fall faster than Pavlov's pet pupdog.
Maybe I don't enjoy actually watching the show much, but I do enjoy listening to people who enjoy watching it, I think I called it a "cultural phenomenon" in the previous rant.
The Bachelor is one of the most thoroughly and unapologetically ethnically and culturally homogeneous shows produced in the US today, clearly targeting an ethnically and culturally homogeneous audience. And that's OK.
I have no intention of going off on any lofty tangents about the myth of multiculturalism in the US of Modern Today, I'm just saying that it's a network show, with the potential for some high-dollar ad rates, and business is business.
Everything we see - or don't see - on the show is the result of a business decision. From casting to story arcs, to wardrobe and makeup, as with any commercial entertainment product, it's about the money.
It's also, as RealitySteve pointed out in his season wrap-up, about the drama.
Previous years had made it very clear that the future of the franchise depended on the show's ability to compete with the increasingly popular trashy reality shows, many of which were, ironically, actually inspired by The Bachelor, according to Mark Cronin, who, in an interview a few years ago acknowledged that the whole "Skankapalooza of Love" franchise was inspired by his wondering:
Fleiss et al responded by ramping up the drama - and the sleaze - accordingly, with the MesnickDump Heard Round the World, the lame but nevertheless effective Rozlyngate, and even going so far as to insert an "insurance policy" early in Ali's season - the famous Jake vs Vienna bout, which predictably raised viewer interest in the show to unprecedented levels even as it dashed whatever hopes Jake might have had for "ever working in this town again."
Anyway, back to viewer reaction. This season, I was especially struck by the division of opinions about Ali's options along demographic lines.
Generally, girls and young ladies of the "mainstream" US demographic were going wild over him, while their counterparts in the rest of the pie chart, well, weren't.
US mainstream demographic viewers seemed to perceive Chris as more "husband material," often referring to him as "real," and "family-oriented," while Roberto was seen more as the "fling," an embodiment of an thrilling fantasy of sampling strange fruit, so that one will have lived a little before settling down and nesting oneself in that weathered-wood-picture-frame-and-matching-dadface environment, the idealized version of the culturally familiar, featuring a less physically attractive but more "realistic" partner.
Outside that mainstream demographic, while the numbers might be lower, perceptions were predictably the opposite, with Roberto viewed as only modestly handsome, at best, and about as interesting as a pile of sawdust, certainly no competition for the exciting and cinematic dream of Chris and Ali, stereotypical blonde couple, living out a charmed life in an eternal - and yes, "exotic" - Norman Rockwell painting.
As one viewer put it:
As a rule, I am not a big fan of critiques and comments on peoples' physical appearance, and I intend no unkindness to Roberto in saying this, but it is simply a fact that - well, let me try to present it a little more politely:
Just as many mainstream demographic young men expressed the view of Ali as attractive in a "girl next door" kind of way, while their sisters viewed her as having an "accessible" kind of beauty, Roberto tends to be perceived by the larger chunk of earth residents as very "boy next door."
But return to that US of Modern Today context, with seismic demographic shift in full swing, and Roberto has a "look" that is extremely popular with one of, if not the major viewer segments - those mainstream demographic females 18-35, who tend to view him as "exotic," the stereotype of the "Latin Lover," yet assimilated to a fault - "diversity" in an acceptable dosage, as highlighted by the remark about his mother cooking "Spanish things I don't know the names of."
It's that demographic shift, the ologists would tell us, that is responsible for the corresponding shift in the prevailing "standard of beauty" embraced by that mainstream demographic.
While the society is still largely socially "segregated" along ethnic and cultural lines, that has to do with a purely cultural change, and cultural change tends to prefer a slower pace.
When we talk about things like "standards of beauty," we're talking about something that goes a little deeper, even less likely to reflect any conscious choices, something that touches on primordial proto-caveman instincts.
Here's how the ologists would, and frequently do, explain it (and believe it or not, using even more words than I am):
In the case of the US population, it simply means that as a larger percentage of the population becomes more ethnically heterogeneous, peoples' ideas of what is beauty changes in order to increase their likelihood of finding a mate and reproducing sooner, thus preserving the species.
The US/Western European standard of beauty is currently in the process of widening to include what has become a currently popular advertising buzzword, the "ethnically ambiguous" look.
Now of course the preservation of the species does not really depend on this event. It is just one of those sort of leftover things we don't really need anymore but are still there in or biochemistry, kind of like the way some populations have body hair.
Originally its purpose was to keep them warm - the same reason their even more pre-historic ancestors had it - and many other species of mammals still have it today.
But many ologists believe that the reason some humans hung onto it for a few more million years was because they got into stuff like more organized societies, written language, science, etc, a few millennia later than the other boys and girls and thus continued for a longer time to need something to protect their skin from thorns as they wandered around in the bush gathering berries or hunting bison or something.
Others point out that the only people who still have it tend to be from colder climates, so it was always about keeping warm, and that the later adapting of all that stuff was coincidental and/or weather-related, but whatever.
The point is, they still have it now, and they don't need it - any more than they need any unconscious and/or involuntary perceptions of blondes or "ethnically ambiguous" people as more or less attractive in order to prevent human extinction.
It's that kind of thing - against the backdrop of that vortex of change - that makes all this interesting.
Plop the whole thing down into another population, one that is NOT in the throes of a major demographic shift, and there's nothing to see. In a traditionally heterogeneous population, you'll get some of the same "split" along those old lines of "my tribe bestest," but you'll get that today and 150 years from now, and in a solidly and eternally homogeneous population, anyone who did not conform to that single standard of beauty would never be cast in the first place.
But with a population in transition, we get stuff like this:
While the current twin ideals of blonde and ectomorph still hold sway, with both blonde AND ectomorph being almost a guaranteed winner, even though Ali is blonde, we did not hear her referred to as "hot" by male and lesbian viewers of that mainstream demographic anywhere near as much as we heard their sisters and gay male brothers use that adjective when referring to Roberto!
If the viewer-expressed adulation of the undisputed audience favorite set me to musing and pontificating on relative standards of beauty and changing faces of a population, and clearly it did, since I seem to have gone on about it for several pages, watching the undisputed Queen of Roberto worship, Ali herself, fawn over her Chosen One should have been more fun than it was.
So enchanted was Ali by her perception of Roberto's physical appearance that on more than one voiceover occasion that she expressed misgivings about the possibiliy of a relationship with him on the basis of his being so much more attractive than herself that she felt insecure, as if he belonged to some kind of higher aesthetically-pleasingness-based caste.
Once I got past the sheer sadness that anyone would feel that way about themselves, I could not help wondering what Roberto thinks about that.
Even if she didn't say it directly to him during shooting, he will surely have heard it by now.
Every viewer who was ever asked to prom, or worse, proposed to, because someone thought they were "exotic," or even that they were so nice to look at that they didn't really give a damn about the rest, is going to be asking the obvious question with me:
Just who is more likely to break whose heart here? I'm just sayin'...
We have no way of knowing whether their post-show photo-ops, some of which reach Speidi-adjacent levels of sheer cheesiness, actually reflect a sincere mutual attraction.
Internets, checkout lines and water coolers alike are positively trembling with an unprecedented groundswell of certainty expressed by such an overwhelming swath of (mainstream demographic) viewers that Ali and Roberto are not like all those other Bachelor/ette couples, that their feelings for each other are not either superficial, they are in Real Love with a capital L, and they are going to live happily ever after.
I certainly hope they are right. I hope that happens to everybody. Who doesn't?
But let's face it. One of the primary sources of amusement afforded by this show is the wild absurdity of the premise best illustrated by the episode (at least in Bachelor seasons) where this dude buys an engagement ring, and tells us that he intends to propose marriage to somebody tomorrow, he just doesn't know yet to whom.
By season's end, the couples have, with luck, spent a total of a few hours in each other's company without the chaperonage of a camera crew.
With the understanding that most romantic relationships do begin because one of the parties feels some degree of physical attraction for the other, and that millions of people live out perfectly happy lives without having a single relationship, romantic or otherwise, that millions of other people would not call "superficial," what chance do any of the Bachelor couples have?
Have any of the ones who are not Trista and Ryan ever wondered how their stories would have played out if they had met each other at a friend's house or a cooking class or the neighborhood gym?
Do any of them ever wonder if they might have "made it" if their romance had not started out as a "showmance?"
Judging from the media and prevailing chatter, online and off, the level and intensity of admiration and adulation for this couple is unprecedented in Bachelor History!
The range of opinions, the ongoing battle between belief and suspension of disbelief, the pragmatists and the faithful, invariably plays out into a much more full-bodied entertainment experience than actually sitting there watching it.
Full disclosure: Although I do have it as a tivoid timer, and dutifully make a sincere effort to watch every episode in its entirety, I admit that I have, on more than one occasion, fallen asleep.
The human mind - or at least my allegedly human mind - can only endure a limited amount of helicopter rides and pageant-worthy comments about the importance of family and being real, and the phrases "here for the right reasons" and "one on one time" can cause my eyes to close and my head to fall faster than Pavlov's pet pupdog.
Maybe I don't enjoy actually watching the show much, but I do enjoy listening to people who enjoy watching it, I think I called it a "cultural phenomenon" in the previous rant.
The Bachelor is one of the most thoroughly and unapologetically ethnically and culturally homogeneous shows produced in the US today, clearly targeting an ethnically and culturally homogeneous audience. And that's OK.
I have no intention of going off on any lofty tangents about the myth of multiculturalism in the US of Modern Today, I'm just saying that it's a network show, with the potential for some high-dollar ad rates, and business is business.
Everything we see - or don't see - on the show is the result of a business decision. From casting to story arcs, to wardrobe and makeup, as with any commercial entertainment product, it's about the money.
It's also, as RealitySteve pointed out in his season wrap-up, about the drama.
Previous years had made it very clear that the future of the franchise depended on the show's ability to compete with the increasingly popular trashy reality shows, many of which were, ironically, actually inspired by The Bachelor, according to Mark Cronin, who, in an interview a few years ago acknowledged that the whole "Skankapalooza of Love" franchise was inspired by his wondering:
"... what if the Bachelor was actually a big character? The Bachelors tend not to be big characters. They tend to be nice, eligible men. Hunks, maybe, but that’s not character. A good character is someone who says funny stuff and who has a weird, whacked-out lifestyle. So, really, we wondered, “What if the bachelor were a crazy lunatic?..."That's when he and partner Cris Abrego decided to call Flavor Flav...
Fleiss et al responded by ramping up the drama - and the sleaze - accordingly, with the MesnickDump Heard Round the World, the lame but nevertheless effective Rozlyngate, and even going so far as to insert an "insurance policy" early in Ali's season - the famous Jake vs Vienna bout, which predictably raised viewer interest in the show to unprecedented levels even as it dashed whatever hopes Jake might have had for "ever working in this town again."
Anyway, back to viewer reaction. This season, I was especially struck by the division of opinions about Ali's options along demographic lines.
Generally, girls and young ladies of the "mainstream" US demographic were going wild over him, while their counterparts in the rest of the pie chart, well, weren't.
US mainstream demographic viewers seemed to perceive Chris as more "husband material," often referring to him as "real," and "family-oriented," while Roberto was seen more as the "fling," an embodiment of an thrilling fantasy of sampling strange fruit, so that one will have lived a little before settling down and nesting oneself in that weathered-wood-picture-frame-and-matching-dadface environment, the idealized version of the culturally familiar, featuring a less physically attractive but more "realistic" partner.
Outside that mainstream demographic, while the numbers might be lower, perceptions were predictably the opposite, with Roberto viewed as only modestly handsome, at best, and about as interesting as a pile of sawdust, certainly no competition for the exciting and cinematic dream of Chris and Ali, stereotypical blonde couple, living out a charmed life in an eternal - and yes, "exotic" - Norman Rockwell painting.
As one viewer put it:
"She shd hav a afare w Roberto so she wil have sum memoris cuz he is HOT n SPICY but don get carid away cuz he wil so brake her heart, Chris is the 1 she shd marri cuz he wil aprecate her"Variations of this sentiment abounded among Ali's demographic sisters, even among the Old School contingent who spelled most of the words right, with the phrase "not that into her" bandied about quite a bit.
As a rule, I am not a big fan of critiques and comments on peoples' physical appearance, and I intend no unkindness to Roberto in saying this, but it is simply a fact that - well, let me try to present it a little more politely:
Just as many mainstream demographic young men expressed the view of Ali as attractive in a "girl next door" kind of way, while their sisters viewed her as having an "accessible" kind of beauty, Roberto tends to be perceived by the larger chunk of earth residents as very "boy next door."
But return to that US of Modern Today context, with seismic demographic shift in full swing, and Roberto has a "look" that is extremely popular with one of, if not the major viewer segments - those mainstream demographic females 18-35, who tend to view him as "exotic," the stereotype of the "Latin Lover," yet assimilated to a fault - "diversity" in an acceptable dosage, as highlighted by the remark about his mother cooking "Spanish things I don't know the names of."
It's that demographic shift, the ologists would tell us, that is responsible for the corresponding shift in the prevailing "standard of beauty" embraced by that mainstream demographic.
While the society is still largely socially "segregated" along ethnic and cultural lines, that has to do with a purely cultural change, and cultural change tends to prefer a slower pace.
When we talk about things like "standards of beauty," we're talking about something that goes a little deeper, even less likely to reflect any conscious choices, something that touches on primordial proto-caveman instincts.
Here's how the ologists would, and frequently do, explain it (and believe it or not, using even more words than I am):
In the case of the US population, it simply means that as a larger percentage of the population becomes more ethnically heterogeneous, peoples' ideas of what is beauty changes in order to increase their likelihood of finding a mate and reproducing sooner, thus preserving the species.
The US/Western European standard of beauty is currently in the process of widening to include what has become a currently popular advertising buzzword, the "ethnically ambiguous" look.
Now of course the preservation of the species does not really depend on this event. It is just one of those sort of leftover things we don't really need anymore but are still there in or biochemistry, kind of like the way some populations have body hair.
Originally its purpose was to keep them warm - the same reason their even more pre-historic ancestors had it - and many other species of mammals still have it today.
But many ologists believe that the reason some humans hung onto it for a few more million years was because they got into stuff like more organized societies, written language, science, etc, a few millennia later than the other boys and girls and thus continued for a longer time to need something to protect their skin from thorns as they wandered around in the bush gathering berries or hunting bison or something.
Others point out that the only people who still have it tend to be from colder climates, so it was always about keeping warm, and that the later adapting of all that stuff was coincidental and/or weather-related, but whatever.
The point is, they still have it now, and they don't need it - any more than they need any unconscious and/or involuntary perceptions of blondes or "ethnically ambiguous" people as more or less attractive in order to prevent human extinction.
It's that kind of thing - against the backdrop of that vortex of change - that makes all this interesting.
Plop the whole thing down into another population, one that is NOT in the throes of a major demographic shift, and there's nothing to see. In a traditionally heterogeneous population, you'll get some of the same "split" along those old lines of "my tribe bestest," but you'll get that today and 150 years from now, and in a solidly and eternally homogeneous population, anyone who did not conform to that single standard of beauty would never be cast in the first place.
But with a population in transition, we get stuff like this:
While the current twin ideals of blonde and ectomorph still hold sway, with both blonde AND ectomorph being almost a guaranteed winner, even though Ali is blonde, we did not hear her referred to as "hot" by male and lesbian viewers of that mainstream demographic anywhere near as much as we heard their sisters and gay male brothers use that adjective when referring to Roberto!
If the viewer-expressed adulation of the undisputed audience favorite set me to musing and pontificating on relative standards of beauty and changing faces of a population, and clearly it did, since I seem to have gone on about it for several pages, watching the undisputed Queen of Roberto worship, Ali herself, fawn over her Chosen One should have been more fun than it was.
So enchanted was Ali by her perception of Roberto's physical appearance that on more than one voiceover occasion that she expressed misgivings about the possibiliy of a relationship with him on the basis of his being so much more attractive than herself that she felt insecure, as if he belonged to some kind of higher aesthetically-pleasingness-based caste.
Once I got past the sheer sadness that anyone would feel that way about themselves, I could not help wondering what Roberto thinks about that.
Even if she didn't say it directly to him during shooting, he will surely have heard it by now.
Every viewer who was ever asked to prom, or worse, proposed to, because someone thought they were "exotic," or even that they were so nice to look at that they didn't really give a damn about the rest, is going to be asking the obvious question with me:
Just who is more likely to break whose heart here? I'm just sayin'...
We have no way of knowing whether their post-show photo-ops, some of which reach Speidi-adjacent levels of sheer cheesiness, actually reflect a sincere mutual attraction.
Internets, checkout lines and water coolers alike are positively trembling with an unprecedented groundswell of certainty expressed by such an overwhelming swath of (mainstream demographic) viewers that Ali and Roberto are not like all those other Bachelor/ette couples, that their feelings for each other are not either superficial, they are in Real Love with a capital L, and they are going to live happily ever after.
I certainly hope they are right. I hope that happens to everybody. Who doesn't?
But let's face it. One of the primary sources of amusement afforded by this show is the wild absurdity of the premise best illustrated by the episode (at least in Bachelor seasons) where this dude buys an engagement ring, and tells us that he intends to propose marriage to somebody tomorrow, he just doesn't know yet to whom.
By season's end, the couples have, with luck, spent a total of a few hours in each other's company without the chaperonage of a camera crew.
With the understanding that most romantic relationships do begin because one of the parties feels some degree of physical attraction for the other, and that millions of people live out perfectly happy lives without having a single relationship, romantic or otherwise, that millions of other people would not call "superficial," what chance do any of the Bachelor couples have?
Have any of the ones who are not Trista and Ryan ever wondered how their stories would have played out if they had met each other at a friend's house or a cooking class or the neighborhood gym?
Do any of them ever wonder if they might have "made it" if their romance had not started out as a "showmance?"
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Questions We're Not Asking About The Fergie Sting
For some of us, $500K is beyond a lot of money. For some of us, it's more money than we'll earn in our lifetimes, more than anyone we know will earn in their lifetimes.
It's so huge, it might as well be expressed in one of those generic terms for "more money than I can conceive of," like a gazillion, a squillion.
But that's just some of us. For others, $500K is a reasonable price for a nice house, for a year's work, for still others, it's about what they'd expect to spend on a wedding, a piece of jewelry, a vacation, what they'd pay to buy a small company, to educate their children.
For the Queen, $500K is the daily interest earned by some of her holdings.
What am I suggesting? I'm not sure. I'm not really suggesting anything. Just pointing out the fact that $500K has a very different meaning, is a very different amount of money, to the Duchess of York than it is to most of the people reading about the News of The World's Excellent Adventure, and to to some of the people writing about it.
But how much is $500K to Fergie? While the sum would buy a whole new life - a whole new identity - for some of us, exactly how far would $500K get the Duchess of Debt? It's hard to believe that she owes LESS than $500K. So as a one-time lump sum, it's hardly likely that it would even get her out of the red.
Nor is it likely that she would be able to use it to just dump her Princess daughters, get a little strategically placed "work done," and start a whole new life for herself in a small Sri Lankan village, in a cozy little ancient dwelling with 50s-era electric lighting, a big ugly satellite dish in the front yard held together with duct tape and coat hangers, a hand pump in the sink, a household staff consisting of an illiterate 12-year-old, and a passport that says "Agnes Higginbotham."
Are we to conlcude that this was not a one-time result of the Duchess having enjoyed one cocktail too many with her Prozac, but a regular practice, a sort of Royal cottage industry with which she and perhaps also the Duke, have supplemented their incomes? Prince Andrew's annual income starts with around $335K every year from mom, plus revenue from his own business activities from Dubai to Kazakhstan, about which little is known, so we can be pretty sure they didn't conspire to do this one time and split it and both go off to live in a Sri Lankan village. It does not seem like the kind of sum a Great Game playa like Andikins would have much interest in.
And if it were something that they did every 3rd Tuesday, may we not assume that they both have enough sense to vet potential clients at least enough to determine that they are not being paid by News of the World?
That's the thing about $500K. It is a high enough figure so that the price of a private detective is not an unreasonable amount to spend in the obtaining of it, but it is not such a huge sum that either Fergie or Andy are likely to regard as life-changing, worth betting the farm for.
And what happens now? Will Andy evict Fergie from Royal Lodge? How much does she know about those business activities of his? Is she in danger of being considered, like Diana, a "loose cannon" that could potentially jeopardize business activities worth sums that would be considered in the gazillions even by those who pay $500K for homes or weddings?
Where did the idea for the sting operation come from, anyway? Which News of the World employee thought it up, who approved it, funded it? And to what end? To discredit the Duchess of York? Was she, before this, all that "credited?" No pun intended, but hey.
Let's just say that if she were my close and personal friend, I would strongly encourage her to consider the benefits of becoming that new-nosed Agnes Higginbotham, enjoying the roses, fresh air, and promise of long life in the humble safety of her rural Sri Lankan home.
It's so huge, it might as well be expressed in one of those generic terms for "more money than I can conceive of," like a gazillion, a squillion.
But that's just some of us. For others, $500K is a reasonable price for a nice house, for a year's work, for still others, it's about what they'd expect to spend on a wedding, a piece of jewelry, a vacation, what they'd pay to buy a small company, to educate their children.
For the Queen, $500K is the daily interest earned by some of her holdings.
What am I suggesting? I'm not sure. I'm not really suggesting anything. Just pointing out the fact that $500K has a very different meaning, is a very different amount of money, to the Duchess of York than it is to most of the people reading about the News of The World's Excellent Adventure, and to to some of the people writing about it.
But how much is $500K to Fergie? While the sum would buy a whole new life - a whole new identity - for some of us, exactly how far would $500K get the Duchess of Debt? It's hard to believe that she owes LESS than $500K. So as a one-time lump sum, it's hardly likely that it would even get her out of the red.
Nor is it likely that she would be able to use it to just dump her Princess daughters, get a little strategically placed "work done," and start a whole new life for herself in a small Sri Lankan village, in a cozy little ancient dwelling with 50s-era electric lighting, a big ugly satellite dish in the front yard held together with duct tape and coat hangers, a hand pump in the sink, a household staff consisting of an illiterate 12-year-old, and a passport that says "Agnes Higginbotham."
Are we to conlcude that this was not a one-time result of the Duchess having enjoyed one cocktail too many with her Prozac, but a regular practice, a sort of Royal cottage industry with which she and perhaps also the Duke, have supplemented their incomes? Prince Andrew's annual income starts with around $335K every year from mom, plus revenue from his own business activities from Dubai to Kazakhstan, about which little is known, so we can be pretty sure they didn't conspire to do this one time and split it and both go off to live in a Sri Lankan village. It does not seem like the kind of sum a Great Game playa like Andikins would have much interest in.
And if it were something that they did every 3rd Tuesday, may we not assume that they both have enough sense to vet potential clients at least enough to determine that they are not being paid by News of the World?
That's the thing about $500K. It is a high enough figure so that the price of a private detective is not an unreasonable amount to spend in the obtaining of it, but it is not such a huge sum that either Fergie or Andy are likely to regard as life-changing, worth betting the farm for.
And what happens now? Will Andy evict Fergie from Royal Lodge? How much does she know about those business activities of his? Is she in danger of being considered, like Diana, a "loose cannon" that could potentially jeopardize business activities worth sums that would be considered in the gazillions even by those who pay $500K for homes or weddings?
Where did the idea for the sting operation come from, anyway? Which News of the World employee thought it up, who approved it, funded it? And to what end? To discredit the Duchess of York? Was she, before this, all that "credited?" No pun intended, but hey.
Let's just say that if she were my close and personal friend, I would strongly encourage her to consider the benefits of becoming that new-nosed Agnes Higginbotham, enjoying the roses, fresh air, and promise of long life in the humble safety of her rural Sri Lankan home.
Real Housewives of New York Channel Harold Pinter
I was all set to do a nice little recap of this episode. It looked so promising. Ramona has been in the throes of a major Renewal this whole season, and she has invited the Housewives on a Caribbean getaway to celebrate it.
At first, it was what you'd expect. The girls get tipsy. They bicker. Alex gently tsk-tsks, her role on the show has been reduced to Den Mother, the token grownup. Ramona proudly displays her bikini collection. Bethenny gives everyone little swag bags of beach-appropriate personal care products. This displeases Kelly, who feels it is impersonal. Actually, Bethenny's very existence appears to displease Kelly more by the minute.
Perhaps seduced by visions of reality show fame on a scale like that enjoyed by Real Housewife of New Jersey Teresa Giudice, Kelly proclaims that Bethenny is a ho-bag.
Bethenny excuses herself and accompanies the Renewing Ramona, liberally fortified with Pinot Grigio, to the neighboring Hooters boat where the two ladies enjoy some Turtle Time.
Sonja announces that she smells cat pee and retires for the evening.
Meanwhile, back in New York, Jill and The Countess, who did not go on the trip, have dinner. Jill announces that she will go down to the Caribbean and surprise Ramona. The Countess declines to join her.
Kelly takes photos of the girls on the beach. Bethenny cooks dinner, and at some point during the dinner, the spirits of Pinter and Ionesco descend and possess them.
They all mount the loa and are subsumed in a whirling vortex of non-sequiturs, the most intelligible of which is Kelly accusing Alex of being a kabuki-dancing vampire and revealing that she threw up because Bethenny is trying to kill her and went after her girls and Gwyneth Paltrow.
I mean, really. It all just goes down hill from there. They all take turns being Stanley.
Alex and Bethenny try to resist, but only succeed in dissolving in a fit of helpless giggles.
In intermittent flashes of lucidity, all agree that Kelly needs help.
"You couldn't write it," declares Sarah Jessica Parker, who is inexplicably this week's guest on the Aftershow. "Not even the finest actor..." she trails off, and Andy shows us a preview of next week, when Jill will arrive on the island to surprise the Renewing Ramona, and no one will be glad to see her.
At first, it was what you'd expect. The girls get tipsy. They bicker. Alex gently tsk-tsks, her role on the show has been reduced to Den Mother, the token grownup. Ramona proudly displays her bikini collection. Bethenny gives everyone little swag bags of beach-appropriate personal care products. This displeases Kelly, who feels it is impersonal. Actually, Bethenny's very existence appears to displease Kelly more by the minute.
Perhaps seduced by visions of reality show fame on a scale like that enjoyed by Real Housewife of New Jersey Teresa Giudice, Kelly proclaims that Bethenny is a ho-bag.
Bethenny excuses herself and accompanies the Renewing Ramona, liberally fortified with Pinot Grigio, to the neighboring Hooters boat where the two ladies enjoy some Turtle Time.
Sonja announces that she smells cat pee and retires for the evening.
Meanwhile, back in New York, Jill and The Countess, who did not go on the trip, have dinner. Jill announces that she will go down to the Caribbean and surprise Ramona. The Countess declines to join her.
Kelly takes photos of the girls on the beach. Bethenny cooks dinner, and at some point during the dinner, the spirits of Pinter and Ionesco descend and possess them.
They all mount the loa and are subsumed in a whirling vortex of non-sequiturs, the most intelligible of which is Kelly accusing Alex of being a kabuki-dancing vampire and revealing that she threw up because Bethenny is trying to kill her and went after her girls and Gwyneth Paltrow.
I mean, really. It all just goes down hill from there. They all take turns being Stanley.
Alex and Bethenny try to resist, but only succeed in dissolving in a fit of helpless giggles.
In intermittent flashes of lucidity, all agree that Kelly needs help.
"You couldn't write it," declares Sarah Jessica Parker, who is inexplicably this week's guest on the Aftershow. "Not even the finest actor..." she trails off, and Andy shows us a preview of next week, when Jill will arrive on the island to surprise the Renewing Ramona, and no one will be glad to see her.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Real Housewives of New York: An Epic Episode!
Jill fears that a member of her household staff, the little chihuahua dog she employs to deep clean her sinuses with its tiny, prehensile tongue, has a digestive ailment, so she calls a veterinarian to come look at it while she wipes chihuahua dog mistake off her furniture and the paravetic shoes.
The doctor examines the trembling exploited little thing, and declares it to be in good health.
Bethenny goes to Alex's house for lunch. She says that Alex, who has made a quiche, is a relief to her because she is low maintenance and does not have any citrus. While the girls make salad dressing, Bethenny reveals that she is engaged. She says it is hard for her to commit and she will keep her pregnancy a secret for now.
Meanwhile, in the Hamptons, Kelly and her daughter share trying to understand the instructions on a box of pancake mix.
Ramona and her daughter go to a sidewalk cafe for dinner. Avery, the daughter, asks for foccacia with prosciutto, ricotta and truffle oil. It's not on the menu but she wants one. Ramona says that the restaurant is her home away from home. She can't remember the name of what she wants, but thinks it has eggs and may be something like an omelette.
She reveals that she is going through a general renewal process and wants to renew her marriage vows. She wants her daughter to be her maid of honor. The daughter says she would rather just watch, but reluctantly agrees. Ramona says that although Avery is only 14, she has become a woman mentally.
Without warning, the New Jersey Housewives appear and warn the public that menstruating women must not be allowed to make pasta sauce because they will spoil it.
Back in New York, the Countess, with Kelly in tow, is looking at "permits."
(Note: a subsequent viewing with subtitles turned on revealed that she was looking at apartments).
The Countess reveals that she is accustomed to a sophisticated lifestyle after being married for 16 years.
She is surprised by the price point of even small, insufficiently Countess-like downtown apartments in the 7-8K rent range, but Kelly tells her that it is a more fun than the Upper East Side because you can wear a baseball cap, but the Countess says she prefers to be among people who make an effort.
The agent shows her a larger apartment, on Madison Avenue, with a rent of $14,500, but she is displeased because there are so many buildings in the area, some even visible from the windows, and it does not have a doorman.
The Countess' surprise turns to shock and disappointment because she was expecting something else. She feels she is better suited to be uptown.
Jill has written a book with her mother and sisters, called Secrets of a Jewish Mother. They and the sinus-cleaning Chihuahua dog all get in the bed to choose photos to illustrate the book. Jill explains that they are called the Bed Family because they always like to get in the bed and are very cuddly.
Jill's mother Gloria, revealing a sample Secret, warns the public not to wear chiffon on Christmas.
Jill says that her mother has done a good job of giving them that message repeatedly for over forty years.
Meanwhile, back in the Hamptons, Kelly, Sonja, and the Countess have cocktails. Sonja remarks that her friends who take Adderall have lost weight but are very snippy. She would like to lose weight but does not believe that Saggitarians should take Adderall.
Kelly says that Ramona is like that. She is on fire and told her to shut up.
The Countess reveals that she calls Ramona "crazy eyes," and explains that the three of them have a lot of love to give.
Sonja reveals that having regular sex is very important. Kelly says the guys in the stables are all Argentinian and gay. She reveals that she wants to get married and have more babies because she loves kids. The Countess tells her that is because she is a child, the Kelly Child, woo-hoo.
She tries to make the "woo-hoo" a Countess-appropriate version of Real Housewife of Orange County Vicki's signature "Woo-Hoo." Kelly and Sonja stare at her, quiet for a minute.
Sonja says she would like a man that doesn't cheat. "Did your husband cheat on you?" Kelly asks. "Did yours?" retorts Sonja. Kelly confesses that she is not sure why Sonja asked her that, unless maybe she wanted to talk about something that happened to her.
The Countess asks if they have to talk about that. She says she doesn't think she had that problem. Again, Kelly and Sonja stare at her, quiet for a minute.
Sonja confesses that she is sure that the Countess has her share of suitors.
The Countess reveals that Italians are great as lovers, but not to marry, because they want to marry their mothers and grandmothers.
The girls attend a Gotham magazine party for the 100 Most Eligible Bachelors.
Jill reveals that Ramona ruined her Kodak event and she can barely refrain from bitch-slapping her.
The Countess confronts Ramona's husband about calling her "Countless." She speaks to him in halting, high school Italian. She explains that she does not want to air her dirty laundry.
She reveals that she does not think Bethenny's blouse is appropriate.
Bethenny reveals that this is the party where they were all supposed to wear a square of toilet paper, that she doesn't have a top on, and Kelly's vagina and Alex's ass cheeks are hanging out and it like a yard sale of body parts.
Jill tells one of the Eligible Bachelors that if he will stick his tongue down Sonja's throat maybe she will let him sit at her table. "Wow," he murmurs politely.
Bethenny announces her engagement. Jill reveals that it is very awkward because all these things are happening that she and Bethenny talked about laying in bed.
The Countess stifles a yawn.
The doctor examines the trembling exploited little thing, and declares it to be in good health.
Bethenny goes to Alex's house for lunch. She says that Alex, who has made a quiche, is a relief to her because she is low maintenance and does not have any citrus. While the girls make salad dressing, Bethenny reveals that she is engaged. She says it is hard for her to commit and she will keep her pregnancy a secret for now.
Meanwhile, in the Hamptons, Kelly and her daughter share trying to understand the instructions on a box of pancake mix.
Ramona and her daughter go to a sidewalk cafe for dinner. Avery, the daughter, asks for foccacia with prosciutto, ricotta and truffle oil. It's not on the menu but she wants one. Ramona says that the restaurant is her home away from home. She can't remember the name of what she wants, but thinks it has eggs and may be something like an omelette.
She reveals that she is going through a general renewal process and wants to renew her marriage vows. She wants her daughter to be her maid of honor. The daughter says she would rather just watch, but reluctantly agrees. Ramona says that although Avery is only 14, she has become a woman mentally.
Without warning, the New Jersey Housewives appear and warn the public that menstruating women must not be allowed to make pasta sauce because they will spoil it.
Back in New York, the Countess, with Kelly in tow, is looking at "permits."
(Note: a subsequent viewing with subtitles turned on revealed that she was looking at apartments).
The Countess reveals that she is accustomed to a sophisticated lifestyle after being married for 16 years.
She is surprised by the price point of even small, insufficiently Countess-like downtown apartments in the 7-8K rent range, but Kelly tells her that it is a more fun than the Upper East Side because you can wear a baseball cap, but the Countess says she prefers to be among people who make an effort.
The agent shows her a larger apartment, on Madison Avenue, with a rent of $14,500, but she is displeased because there are so many buildings in the area, some even visible from the windows, and it does not have a doorman.
The Countess' surprise turns to shock and disappointment because she was expecting something else. She feels she is better suited to be uptown.
Jill has written a book with her mother and sisters, called Secrets of a Jewish Mother. They and the sinus-cleaning Chihuahua dog all get in the bed to choose photos to illustrate the book. Jill explains that they are called the Bed Family because they always like to get in the bed and are very cuddly.
Jill's mother Gloria, revealing a sample Secret, warns the public not to wear chiffon on Christmas.
Jill says that her mother has done a good job of giving them that message repeatedly for over forty years.
Meanwhile, back in the Hamptons, Kelly, Sonja, and the Countess have cocktails. Sonja remarks that her friends who take Adderall have lost weight but are very snippy. She would like to lose weight but does not believe that Saggitarians should take Adderall.
Kelly says that Ramona is like that. She is on fire and told her to shut up.
The Countess reveals that she calls Ramona "crazy eyes," and explains that the three of them have a lot of love to give.
Sonja reveals that having regular sex is very important. Kelly says the guys in the stables are all Argentinian and gay. She reveals that she wants to get married and have more babies because she loves kids. The Countess tells her that is because she is a child, the Kelly Child, woo-hoo.
She tries to make the "woo-hoo" a Countess-appropriate version of Real Housewife of Orange County Vicki's signature "Woo-Hoo." Kelly and Sonja stare at her, quiet for a minute.
Sonja says she would like a man that doesn't cheat. "Did your husband cheat on you?" Kelly asks. "Did yours?" retorts Sonja. Kelly confesses that she is not sure why Sonja asked her that, unless maybe she wanted to talk about something that happened to her.
The Countess asks if they have to talk about that. She says she doesn't think she had that problem. Again, Kelly and Sonja stare at her, quiet for a minute.
Sonja confesses that she is sure that the Countess has her share of suitors.
The Countess reveals that Italians are great as lovers, but not to marry, because they want to marry their mothers and grandmothers.
The girls attend a Gotham magazine party for the 100 Most Eligible Bachelors.
Jill reveals that Ramona ruined her Kodak event and she can barely refrain from bitch-slapping her.
The Countess confronts Ramona's husband about calling her "Countless." She speaks to him in halting, high school Italian. She explains that she does not want to air her dirty laundry.
She reveals that she does not think Bethenny's blouse is appropriate.
Bethenny reveals that this is the party where they were all supposed to wear a square of toilet paper, that she doesn't have a top on, and Kelly's vagina and Alex's ass cheeks are hanging out and it like a yard sale of body parts.
Jill tells one of the Eligible Bachelors that if he will stick his tongue down Sonja's throat maybe she will let him sit at her table. "Wow," he murmurs politely.
Bethenny announces her engagement. Jill reveals that it is very awkward because all these things are happening that she and Bethenny talked about laying in bed.
The Countess stifles a yawn.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
High Society: Watch Out, Kardashians! Move Over, Tila Tequila!
At last a show for those of us who just can't stop wondering:
"But what about the girls who didn't make the cut for Rock of Love Bus?"
"High Society" is all about the doings of the creme de les beaufs in New York.
This show may not be suitable for viewers who are sensitive about international smiles-behind-the-fan when the subject of US culture pops up (pun soooo intended).
You know what I mean - people who just don't get that there is no such thing as old oil money.
For We the Authentic Bad Reality TV cognoscenti, however, it's a true treasure trove o' trash, featuring the arch-rival of Adam DiVello discovery wannabe Olivia Palermo, a girl named Tinsley Mortimer, who despite her positioning as an East Coast product, adheres strictly to the Stereotypiconic Indistinguishable SoCal Blonde style template, from corn-colored hair to strippalettos.
Tinsley claims to despise "being flat-footed" so much that she walks on tiptoes even when barefoot.
She is considered by some to be an aristocrat because of an ancestor who was very good at cleaning carpets. (I guess those same people would consider me a-list royalty. I have several ancestors who were really good at designing and weaving carpets).
Other cast tropes include PJ Calderon, in the role of quintessential spoiled brat, steadily partying away his trust fund, villainess gossip-monger Devorah Rose (who I believe gets a catfight scene with Tinsley in an upcoming episode), and Jules Kirby, the mandatory bigoted bus station skank who enjoys abusing hotel staff, and hates everybody but thin heterosexual white protestants. (Jules has since issued the mandatory post-production statement to the effect that CW forced her to say she hates everybody but thin heterosexual white protestants, and the network has duly responded that they didn't).
But the One True and Undisputed Star of the show is Tinsley's mom.
Dale Mercer was born for reality TV. She steals every scene she's in, and the one where, positioned at the foot of a grand staircase, she genuflects to dab at her eyes with the diaphanous hem of her red evening gown qualifies as a Great Moment in Television.
Although sadly, we are unlikely to be blessed with a second season of this train wreck of vapidity (its premiere received the lowest ratings in CW history), we are almost certain to get more of Miss Dale. Producers have got to be fighting over her as we speak.
Hey! I just realized something - Dale has been divorced from Tinsley's dad for like forever, which means she is single, which could mean - O please Mr Cris Abrego, if you are reading this - Socialite Bus of Love???
"But what about the girls who didn't make the cut for Rock of Love Bus?"
"High Society" is all about the doings of the creme de les beaufs in New York.
This show may not be suitable for viewers who are sensitive about international smiles-behind-the-fan when the subject of US culture pops up (pun soooo intended).
You know what I mean - people who just don't get that there is no such thing as old oil money.
For We the Authentic Bad Reality TV cognoscenti, however, it's a true treasure trove o' trash, featuring the arch-rival of Adam DiVello discovery wannabe Olivia Palermo, a girl named Tinsley Mortimer, who despite her positioning as an East Coast product, adheres strictly to the Stereotypiconic Indistinguishable SoCal Blonde style template, from corn-colored hair to strippalettos.
Tinsley claims to despise "being flat-footed" so much that she walks on tiptoes even when barefoot.
She is considered by some to be an aristocrat because of an ancestor who was very good at cleaning carpets. (I guess those same people would consider me a-list royalty. I have several ancestors who were really good at designing and weaving carpets).
Other cast tropes include PJ Calderon, in the role of quintessential spoiled brat, steadily partying away his trust fund, villainess gossip-monger Devorah Rose (who I believe gets a catfight scene with Tinsley in an upcoming episode), and Jules Kirby, the mandatory bigoted bus station skank who enjoys abusing hotel staff, and hates everybody but thin heterosexual white protestants. (Jules has since issued the mandatory post-production statement to the effect that CW forced her to say she hates everybody but thin heterosexual white protestants, and the network has duly responded that they didn't).
But the One True and Undisputed Star of the show is Tinsley's mom.
Dale Mercer was born for reality TV. She steals every scene she's in, and the one where, positioned at the foot of a grand staircase, she genuflects to dab at her eyes with the diaphanous hem of her red evening gown qualifies as a Great Moment in Television.
Although sadly, we are unlikely to be blessed with a second season of this train wreck of vapidity (its premiere received the lowest ratings in CW history), we are almost certain to get more of Miss Dale. Producers have got to be fighting over her as we speak.
Hey! I just realized something - Dale has been divorced from Tinsley's dad for like forever, which means she is single, which could mean - O please Mr Cris Abrego, if you are reading this - Socialite Bus of Love???
Monday, August 3, 2009
200 Pounds Beauty: Not Just a Rom-Com
This movie was actually released in 2007, so I'm late to the party, but it stuck with me so much for days after watching it that a rant was inevitable.
The plot: Hanna (Kim A-Jung) is an incredibly talented singer, but because of the societal stigma of overweight, she is relegated to the position of "playback singer" for Ami, the hottest new pop princess.
Stuck backstage in a stuffy little booth, Hanna belts it out while Ami, dressed up in typical pop princess stagewear and surrounded by the usual conglomeration of backup singers, dancers and special effects, lip-syncs.
When not recording or lip-syncing for Ami, Hanna moonlights as a phone sex worker, where thanks to her gifts of compassion and patience with her troubled clients as much as her creatitivity and "evocative" skills, she has a loyal following.
Hanna is in love with Ami's producer and boyfriend, Sang-Jun, (played by Jin-mo Ju), who is the only person who is even remotely nice to her.
Western audiences will be shocked by the way BFF Jung-Min (Hyeon-sook Kim) treats Hanna, so much so that the one scene where the girls get matching tattoos and giggle and squeal like actual friends is jarring and out-of-place, and in fact the tattoos are central to a needed plot element, so it is possible that the scene really was "stuck on."
Hanna should face facts and forget about love, Jung-Min tells Hanna, because as far as men are concerned, there are 3 kinds of women in the world, the pretty girls, who is a treasure, the ordinary girl, who is a gift, and then there is the reject. Hanna, of course, is a reject.
Although Sang-Jun's friendliness to Hanna is clearly only that, Ami is jealous of his sincere appreciation for Hanna's talent, and resentful of the fact that she has none herself.
She sets Hanna up with a cruel trick, sending her a dress, supposedly a gift from Sang-Jun, to be worn at his birthday party. Of course the dress is all wrong for Hanna, she looks awful in it, and then Ami shows up in the same dress. She actually looks pretty awful in it too, but that is just my subjective judgment and has nothing to do with the plot.
While a humiliated Hanna hides in the bathroom, she overhears Sang-Jun telling a fretful Ami that they must both be nice to Hanna, or does she want to go back to backup dancer days, because if Hanna walks, Ami's career will end.
In despair, Ami attempts to end her life, but is saved by a call from one of her devoted phone sex clients, who happens to be a famous plastic surgeon.
There follows a funny scene in the surgeon's office, where he is about to throw her out after she asks about getting the miracles he describes done on credit, but quickly changes his mind when Hanna cleverly reveals her "other" identity.
Hanna disappears for a year, during which time Ami's career predictably crashes and burns, and when her Extreme Makeover is complete, she erases her old identity completely, and returns to the world as the slender and beautiful Jenny.
Meanwhile, all the expected drama has been going on behind the scenes as the recording company is losing money by the day, having had to postpone Ami's much-awaited second CD, and a desperate search for a replacement "voice" is underway.
Hanna, as Jenny, auditions, the company (including San-Jun) goes wild, and plans are made to launch Jenny, the new pop princess, while Ami is left out in the failing sitcom pasture of the has-been.
The only person who knows Jenny's secret is Jung-Min, and that only because of the tattoo, which is a big old scoop of artistic license, as it would not have survived a makeover as Extreme as Hanna's, but hey, it's a comedy.
Jung-Min still sucks at being a BFF, though, telling Hanna that women who have had plastic surgery are considered "monsters" by mainstream society, and that even the most forward-thinking men may think it is fine for girls to get work done, "just not MY girl."
When Sang-Jun himself confirms this, using the same words, and her interaction with Sang-Jun continues to be as one-sided and painful for her as it ever was - if his earlier remarks to Ami about only using Hanna were a clue that Sang-Jun is no prize, in his most dramatic scene with Jenny, a raw, tear-your-heart-out moment when Sang-Jun finally understands just how much the woman who stands before him now, the woman who is Hanna, loved his sorry ass, just how sorry an ass that is is brought home to us as as hard as it is to her, and the more hopeful among us may even think we see a clue-stick hovering above the head of Sang-Jun himself.
Jung-Min needed the tattoo to recognize Hanna, but her father, institutionalized due to Alzheimer's or some other non-specified, or at least not understood by me, illness, does not need a tattoo, and when the movie, according to Korean comedy tradition, gets to "the serious part," it is through the scenes involving her father, (Hyon-shik Lim) that we feel the profundity of Hanna's anguish and the extreme emotional effects of the identity crisis in which she now finds herself.
But the one scene that is at once the most Spielbergian wipe-a-tear and bounce-up-and-down-howling-with-delight absurd takes place at Jenny's first concert, where everything hitting her at once, she is unable to perform, and confesses, whereupon the crowd all hold up stick-lights and chant "It's OK! "It's OK" reassuringly as a giant screen behind her fills with the image of Original Recipe Hanna, singing the song that she wrote "while just looking at the stars."
It is during these climactic scenes that Jung-Min finally redeems herself and starts acting like BFF material, and by movie's end, as a new SuperStar is born, and new posters and CD covers that say "Hanna" replace the ones that said "Jenny," even Sang-Jun seems to be trying on a bit of introspection for size, sadly realizing that to the extent his superficial ass may have ever been capable of real feelings, it was to the person Hanna is that his heart has always been drawn, as much as his mind has been drawn to the artist, no matter what she looks like, and that this nascent epiphany is several dollars short and about a year late.
Although especially the first third of the movie contains a lot of frankly offensive lame "fat" jokes and slapstick, as well as plenty of expected standard rom-com content, 200 Pounds Beauty is no ordinary romantic comedy.
Reportedly several famous actresses turned this role down. Maybe they were skittish about donning a "fat suit" Or maybe they read the script.
This would be a difficult role for any actor, but Kim A-Jung steps up, and while she plays nicely off the other actors in the comedic scenes, it is the dramatic moments where she gets the chance to show her chops.
This is an actress who works on her craft, and that someone who is -let's be honest here - NOT a natural comic in the classic sense of the term, nor with decades of experience and training to fall back on - can capture, to any extent, some of the subtleties of "what it would be like" not only to get used to a completely different body - but the instant turnaround in societal attitudes - is pretty impressive.
After a lifetime of being the butt of snickers, cruel jokes and rejection, when she emerges from the seclusion of recuperation from her surgeries, Jenny learns overnight just how different reality is for girls who are considered beautiful. In every situation, from the most casual encounter to potential catastrophe, the treatment she receives, the way people respond to her, is diametrically opposed to everything she has known.
For viewers looking for social commentary, it's there, but the mixed message element nearly obscures it.
I guess if we want to wax philosophical, we could argue that this accurately reflects cultural reality. While on the one hand, lip service about the importance of inner beauty, acceptance and self-love, has become obligatory, a cursory glance at any magazine or screen, large or small, tells a different story.
The wisp-thin girl who conforms to the current standard of beauty, near-universal in the global village that is Modern Today, continues to enjoy a very fat advantage over her older, plumper, different-featured sister, everywhere from the workplace to the lunch counter to the social and dating arena
I know I have just left out whole chunks of this movie, for instance, there is the element of family business drama - Sang-Jun's dad owns the record company, which also employs his brother, and one scene in particular, with a slightly hokey but very effective use of blood as a symbol of, well, blood, is certainly worth a mention, but I have totally failed to praise Hyon-shik Lim sufficiently for his excellent portrayal of Hanna's addled but loving father.
If nothing or no one in 200 Pounds Beauty makes you cry, Hyon-shik Lim will!
If you like pop music, or even if you don't, the songs in this movie will stay in your head for days, and one way or another, find their way to your iPod.
Western viewers will enjoy Kim A-Jung's cover of the old Blondie song "Maria," and a totally new take on Ben E. Hill's R & B classic "Stand By Me" will make you first go "huh?" and then "Yeah!"
The plot: Hanna (Kim A-Jung) is an incredibly talented singer, but because of the societal stigma of overweight, she is relegated to the position of "playback singer" for Ami, the hottest new pop princess.
Stuck backstage in a stuffy little booth, Hanna belts it out while Ami, dressed up in typical pop princess stagewear and surrounded by the usual conglomeration of backup singers, dancers and special effects, lip-syncs.
When not recording or lip-syncing for Ami, Hanna moonlights as a phone sex worker, where thanks to her gifts of compassion and patience with her troubled clients as much as her creatitivity and "evocative" skills, she has a loyal following.
Hanna is in love with Ami's producer and boyfriend, Sang-Jun, (played by Jin-mo Ju), who is the only person who is even remotely nice to her.
Western audiences will be shocked by the way BFF Jung-Min (Hyeon-sook Kim) treats Hanna, so much so that the one scene where the girls get matching tattoos and giggle and squeal like actual friends is jarring and out-of-place, and in fact the tattoos are central to a needed plot element, so it is possible that the scene really was "stuck on."
Hanna should face facts and forget about love, Jung-Min tells Hanna, because as far as men are concerned, there are 3 kinds of women in the world, the pretty girls, who is a treasure, the ordinary girl, who is a gift, and then there is the reject. Hanna, of course, is a reject.
Although Sang-Jun's friendliness to Hanna is clearly only that, Ami is jealous of his sincere appreciation for Hanna's talent, and resentful of the fact that she has none herself.
She sets Hanna up with a cruel trick, sending her a dress, supposedly a gift from Sang-Jun, to be worn at his birthday party. Of course the dress is all wrong for Hanna, she looks awful in it, and then Ami shows up in the same dress. She actually looks pretty awful in it too, but that is just my subjective judgment and has nothing to do with the plot.
While a humiliated Hanna hides in the bathroom, she overhears Sang-Jun telling a fretful Ami that they must both be nice to Hanna, or does she want to go back to backup dancer days, because if Hanna walks, Ami's career will end.
In despair, Ami attempts to end her life, but is saved by a call from one of her devoted phone sex clients, who happens to be a famous plastic surgeon.
There follows a funny scene in the surgeon's office, where he is about to throw her out after she asks about getting the miracles he describes done on credit, but quickly changes his mind when Hanna cleverly reveals her "other" identity.
Hanna disappears for a year, during which time Ami's career predictably crashes and burns, and when her Extreme Makeover is complete, she erases her old identity completely, and returns to the world as the slender and beautiful Jenny.
Meanwhile, all the expected drama has been going on behind the scenes as the recording company is losing money by the day, having had to postpone Ami's much-awaited second CD, and a desperate search for a replacement "voice" is underway.
Hanna, as Jenny, auditions, the company (including San-Jun) goes wild, and plans are made to launch Jenny, the new pop princess, while Ami is left out in the failing sitcom pasture of the has-been.
The only person who knows Jenny's secret is Jung-Min, and that only because of the tattoo, which is a big old scoop of artistic license, as it would not have survived a makeover as Extreme as Hanna's, but hey, it's a comedy.
Jung-Min still sucks at being a BFF, though, telling Hanna that women who have had plastic surgery are considered "monsters" by mainstream society, and that even the most forward-thinking men may think it is fine for girls to get work done, "just not MY girl."
When Sang-Jun himself confirms this, using the same words, and her interaction with Sang-Jun continues to be as one-sided and painful for her as it ever was - if his earlier remarks to Ami about only using Hanna were a clue that Sang-Jun is no prize, in his most dramatic scene with Jenny, a raw, tear-your-heart-out moment when Sang-Jun finally understands just how much the woman who stands before him now, the woman who is Hanna, loved his sorry ass, just how sorry an ass that is is brought home to us as as hard as it is to her, and the more hopeful among us may even think we see a clue-stick hovering above the head of Sang-Jun himself.
Jung-Min needed the tattoo to recognize Hanna, but her father, institutionalized due to Alzheimer's or some other non-specified, or at least not understood by me, illness, does not need a tattoo, and when the movie, according to Korean comedy tradition, gets to "the serious part," it is through the scenes involving her father, (Hyon-shik Lim) that we feel the profundity of Hanna's anguish and the extreme emotional effects of the identity crisis in which she now finds herself.
But the one scene that is at once the most Spielbergian wipe-a-tear and bounce-up-and-down-howling-with-delight absurd takes place at Jenny's first concert, where everything hitting her at once, she is unable to perform, and confesses, whereupon the crowd all hold up stick-lights and chant "It's OK! "It's OK" reassuringly as a giant screen behind her fills with the image of Original Recipe Hanna, singing the song that she wrote "while just looking at the stars."
It is during these climactic scenes that Jung-Min finally redeems herself and starts acting like BFF material, and by movie's end, as a new SuperStar is born, and new posters and CD covers that say "Hanna" replace the ones that said "Jenny," even Sang-Jun seems to be trying on a bit of introspection for size, sadly realizing that to the extent his superficial ass may have ever been capable of real feelings, it was to the person Hanna is that his heart has always been drawn, as much as his mind has been drawn to the artist, no matter what she looks like, and that this nascent epiphany is several dollars short and about a year late.
Although especially the first third of the movie contains a lot of frankly offensive lame "fat" jokes and slapstick, as well as plenty of expected standard rom-com content, 200 Pounds Beauty is no ordinary romantic comedy.
Reportedly several famous actresses turned this role down. Maybe they were skittish about donning a "fat suit" Or maybe they read the script.
This would be a difficult role for any actor, but Kim A-Jung steps up, and while she plays nicely off the other actors in the comedic scenes, it is the dramatic moments where she gets the chance to show her chops.
This is an actress who works on her craft, and that someone who is -let's be honest here - NOT a natural comic in the classic sense of the term, nor with decades of experience and training to fall back on - can capture, to any extent, some of the subtleties of "what it would be like" not only to get used to a completely different body - but the instant turnaround in societal attitudes - is pretty impressive.
After a lifetime of being the butt of snickers, cruel jokes and rejection, when she emerges from the seclusion of recuperation from her surgeries, Jenny learns overnight just how different reality is for girls who are considered beautiful. In every situation, from the most casual encounter to potential catastrophe, the treatment she receives, the way people respond to her, is diametrically opposed to everything she has known.
For viewers looking for social commentary, it's there, but the mixed message element nearly obscures it.
I guess if we want to wax philosophical, we could argue that this accurately reflects cultural reality. While on the one hand, lip service about the importance of inner beauty, acceptance and self-love, has become obligatory, a cursory glance at any magazine or screen, large or small, tells a different story.
The wisp-thin girl who conforms to the current standard of beauty, near-universal in the global village that is Modern Today, continues to enjoy a very fat advantage over her older, plumper, different-featured sister, everywhere from the workplace to the lunch counter to the social and dating arena
I know I have just left out whole chunks of this movie, for instance, there is the element of family business drama - Sang-Jun's dad owns the record company, which also employs his brother, and one scene in particular, with a slightly hokey but very effective use of blood as a symbol of, well, blood, is certainly worth a mention, but I have totally failed to praise Hyon-shik Lim sufficiently for his excellent portrayal of Hanna's addled but loving father.
If nothing or no one in 200 Pounds Beauty makes you cry, Hyon-shik Lim will!
If you like pop music, or even if you don't, the songs in this movie will stay in your head for days, and one way or another, find their way to your iPod.
Western viewers will enjoy Kim A-Jung's cover of the old Blondie song "Maria," and a totally new take on Ben E. Hill's R & B classic "Stand By Me" will make you first go "huh?" and then "Yeah!"
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