Todd Levin

I learned a few hard lessons during this evening’s broadcast of the 75th Annual Hollywood Awards. Here’s my official wrap-up:

1. Acting as a frank (if slightly graceless) pundit on the very confusing state of international affairs will earn you empassioned jeers from your formally dressed audience; being an exiled pedophile and alleged rapist, however, gets you a standing ovation.
2. Adrien Brody – mournful eyes and an asshole’s mouth. “Bet you didn’t expect that in your gift bag,” he offered smugly, after gripping and frenching halle berry. Later, he shut up the orchestra for an extended personal moment onstage and then proceeded to tell the world that it took acting in a movie about the Holocaust to understand that people are actually suffering in the world – and not just because the doorman at Jet Lounge didn’t recognize you from your amazing performance in A Thin Blue Line.
3. And yes, that ‘suffering’ comment will also earn you a standing-O.
4. Steve Martin, a generally dignified man (outside of his film oeuvre) with sharp comic timing, still sounds like a cheap Vegas whore (or worse – like billy crystal) when he’s telling someone else’s dirty old man jokes. Yes, Steve – J.Lo is hot! Please write a play, and quick.
5. Hollywood proved it doesn’t hate black people last year, right? It turns out that Hollywood just hates urban culture. Phew! There’s a difference, of course. Mr. Tibbs is in! But where was Eminem’s performance of “Lose Yourself”? It won an Oscar this year, but I guess that doesn’t mean the Academy has to rally behind it. Still, I would have felt better about that fairly inspiring song being performed than the U2 song. Not sure. Something about a song that celebrates the “hands that built America” doesn’t quite sit right while American hands are tearing down another country right now, brick by brick. [addendum: i was informed that eminem actually boycotted the oscars because he’d already been warned that they might have to edit his live appearance if he had any swears in it. there’s a story here.]
6. Rush a tribute, even for an event as lush as the Oscars, and it will look rushed. Did anyone see that montage called “A Tribute to the American Spirit”? It had all the shine of a PowerPoint presentation at a tile flooring conference. What font did they use? Was that a tribute to the spirit of Zapf Chancery?
7. Pre-emptive award for fastest professional and personal downward spiral: Adrien Brody
8. Award for most clever camera work: when the producer of Chicago was reminded to thank his wife during his acceptance speech, the director of the Oscars cut to Hilary Swank and Chad Lowe, like some kind of historical lesson. [addendum: i’ve also been told that hilary herself was the person who yelled out, “thank your wife!” as a single tear rolled down chad lowe’s cheek.]
9. Award for best decontextualization of a shitty scene from an even shittier movie: Backdraft, during the tribute to the American Spirit. What could be lower?
10. Oh wait, I know what could be lower. How about seating Mickey Rooney in the last row, behind the sound board while Cuba Gooding, Jr. enjoys a 10th row seat. I guess he was running a dress rehearsal for next year, when he accepts an award for Boat Trip. Do they have an award for “Most Quickly Squandered Potential?”
11. Connect the dots. New category: Feature Length Animated Film. Network broadcasting the Academy Awards: ABC. Corporation that owns ABC: Disney. Nominated for an Academy Award in the category of Best Feature Length Animated Film: Disney’sTreasure Planet. Worst animated film since Rover Dangerfield: Treasure Planet.
12. Most spiteful introduction: “…Academy award winner and star of Daredevil, Ben Affleck.”

(i actually liked adrien brody before this evening. almost as much as i like the chub chubs. curse you, brody, you insufferable prick. and bless you, chub chubs.)

*thanks to denise for intrepid fact-checking and clarification on some of my complaints. it’s nice to have an uninformed opinion anchored by some actual information. sometimes.

Since the inception of the first Patriot Act, over 18 months ago, I’ve begun playing this curious game with myself. What words, transmitted through my personal emails, will raise red flags with our government and cause them to generate a file on me? Stab? Bomb? Holy Terror? Zionist? Beard? Junior Bush? Scud? Bud the C.H.U.D.? Dracula Powder? Allah #1? It’s hard to know.

Now that the government has revamped its old, far too permissive efforts, and passed Patriot Act II (which allows federal agents to deny any information about the nature of the arrest to captured suspects. no one has to know their rights, or their wrongs, now.) I wonder if they’ve gone through and added more “red flag” words to monitor potential terror or dissent in our correspondences? Like “Michael Moore”, “Dixie Chicks”, “Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences”, “Wavy Gravy”, “sandals”, “liberal arts”, “falafel”, “ambivalent”, “worried”, “I hope my boy is safe”, “dove”, “small world”, and “croissant.”

I will say this. I’m glad our current Executive cabinet is DOMINATED by older men, because there’s no way women could seriously consider cool names like “Operation Enduring Freedom”, “Decaptitation Attack” (LIU KANG WINS – DECAPITATION ATTACK!), “bunker buster”, “Operation Liberty Shield”, and “Molly Hatchet.” Female military officials would ruin our bloodlust instantly with campaigns like “Barbie’s Dream War”, “Unicorns are for Real”, and “How the U.S. Got Its Groove Back.” FELLAS, AM I RIGHT????

First of all, if I hear anyone say anything even resembling, “can people please stop talking about the war for a second,” I will punch them in the nose, even across state lines.

Here’s what my last few months have been like. Even though I live in a two-floor walkup brownstone with nothing but poured concrete at my feet I’ve somehoiw been channeling the experience of a suburban dad each and every morning. Picture, if you will, a suburban dad stepping outside, fresh as a daisy, ready to fire some immigrants at his factory, and his first image of the day is a cache of steamy dog poop on his perfectly manicured lawn.

I have an almost identical experience every morning. However, in my case, instead of a lawn I’ve got sidewalk. And instead of poop I’ve got the front page of someone else’s NY Post sullying my step. Each day the Post telegraphs another dangerously unilateral, aggressively idiotic declaration made by our President or some other member of his cabinet – things like “We’ll fight two wars at once!” or “We’ll do this one alone!!” or “Play Ball – US Troops bored silly and tired of waiting for bloodshed.” And when I see it, I go into full suburban dad/ dog poop mode. My face steams red, I rub the color out of it with the palm of my hand, and I catch myself making statements like, “Oh, for the love of God!” “No, not again!” “Come on now!!!”

And then I step gingerly around the newspaper and slouch toward the office, dreaming of firing my gardener.

Right on the heels of returning from my hometown, this story was brought to my attention. In summary, a local lawyer was arrested – torn from his stuffed baked potato and jiggly fries^tm at the food court – for wearing a “GIVE PEACE A CHANCE” T-shirt he’d purchased in the mall. Really? Just for wearing the T-shirt? I can understand a great deal of human stupidity, but I can’t imagine why someone would arrest a man for wearing a peacenik T-shirt. UNLESS! Is that all he was wearing? Was this citizen Porky-Pigging it in the mall? The details are still hazy.

The mall security officers ordered this peace-loving and shirt-buying dissenter remove the shirt and justified their demand by comparing the shopping mall to “a private home” where Mr. Wavy Gravy was acting poorly. A private home? Filled with cops? Where baked potato fixins are free? Sign me up!

I was actually in this very same mall over the weekend, visiting my folks. (who rent a room out of this private home, on the second floor, right next to “Hot Topic”) There is a store in the mall called “As Seen on TV” where you can actually purchase all of the horrible things advertised on television. That is the only unifying theory behind the store, and I love it. I spent the afternoon there and, in retrospect, I’m glad I escaped persecution. Perhaps I was legally protected by my “KILL EM ALL AND LET GOD SORT EM OUT LATER” jersey and “RAPE-A-HOLIC” cardigan.

Do you remember that band Live? Me neither. Thank God.

Ugh. Thanks to some new and horrific change my webhost made this evening, a good part of my site – namely, the part built through Movable Type – has completely disappeared. I have no idea what happened but for now, this is all you get.

Maybe today is a good idea to start over. Careful what you wish for, Witold.

[p.s. strange. when i created and published this post, it fixed everything. everything!!! i will not take it down, though, for it is a part of history. the part that paints me out to be a crazy, disgruntled creep.]

Lately, I’ve been discovering a surprising number of my acquaintances have participated in The Landmark Forum. By “surprising number” I mean, of course, two. But even two seems like a big number, considering the first I’d heard of this program was approximately four months ago.

I don’t really know how to describe the program, but I suppose it’s like one of those self-actualization seminars. If you watched Six Feet Under religiously, as I did – instead of “working on yourself”, of course – you might remember the seminar Mrs. Fisher attended halfway through last season. That was perhaps a slightly loopier version of The Forum, but I’m sure both the real and fictional seminars leave the same fuzzy taste in the mouths of cynics. In fact, that taste might be familiar to some of you. If you roll it around on your tongue for a bit you’ll find it tastes almost exactly like bullshit.

To be fair, I can’t say for certain The Forum is bullshit because I’ve never really investigated it, and right now I don’t have a better plan for self-actualization. It’s not like my rigorous program of existential crises alternating with bourbon and Snickers binges is getting me any closer to “Illuminlightenment!™” or whatever The Forum promises. I can say that it confuses me a bit, though. I’ve noticed several unusual things that come up in people’s discussion of this program. First, no one seems to have had a bad time. It’s like hypnotism – if you’re suggestive enough at that moment, you’ll believe in it. Fine. I would hope it would result in a good time. I have no interest in knocking down people who are actually benefitting from their particular belief system. But here’s the funny thing…

Whenever you ask friends how the program helped them, the answer is never really satisfying. No one has ever told me The Forum helped them save a puppy or buy a Camaro. The victories are always smaller, weirder. Like, “I finally started a blog!” or “Just three weeks after The Forum I was honored as ‘The World’s Greatest Grandma’ with a commemorative nightshirt.”

The Forum also seems to lack the advertising punch and celebrity weight of Scientology. On two separate occasions, I learned of a friend’s involvement with The Forum because they let it slip that they had begun hanging out with a really low-rung celebrity. In one instance it was the nerdy character from Saved by the Bell, but it wasn’t Screech. It was the other nerdy character – the one who only appeared in cut scenes by the lockers. Another time, I had a friend tell me she’d just went to a party with The Unknown Comic, The Real Roxanne, and the guy who provides the voice for Charlie Tuna. This inevitably led to a discussion about The Forum, and made me both curious and skeptical. And let’s not forget deliciously horny!! (wink!)

As long as it doesn’t cross legal or ethical lines, I try to fully support my friends’ decisions. But I can’t help being somewhat taken aback when someone confesses to completing The Forum. I usually read a sense of bottled-up excitement (with perhaps a shade of guilt, too) coming from them when the news comes out, and I cannot help but react with both shock and embarrassment. It’s like being friends with someone for ten years and suddenly discovering he or she is “swings”. Or, even worse, it’s like suddenly discovering a friend “swing-dances”. From that moment forward, you’re going to see him slightly differently and you’re always going to wonder, in the back of your mind, “is this person trying to get me to join him? Do I have to buy a zoot suit now?”

Are the Webbys broke now? I think web sites are great fun, although I’ve never felt especially indebted to the Webbys for their garish presentation of awards for web sites and their creators. In my experience, most web developers and authors are more compelling on paper, and no amount of manufactured fanfare or c-list celebrity presenters are going to change the fact that you’re forcing a live audience to listen to a speech by the personality behind “recipedatabase.com”.

In an act that could be read as either marketing savvy or complete disdain for their nominees, the Webbys made an interesting switch a couple of years ago – they created a strict rule limiting awards recipients to an acceptance speech no longer than five words. That means more time for drag queens!

This year I noticed the Webbys require a $85 entry fee (now $95, as the deadline gets closer) to nominate personal and non-profit sites, and $100 (now $150) for other site categories. Compare this fee, and the five words you get to say to an audience who, in this sagging economy in a country on the verge of war, now tends to look at the web as a disgusting example of recent excesses, to the award itself. A petrified slinky, its total retail value couldn’t possibly exceed $15. This means nominees are funding the ceremony, and the honored web sites are basically paying for the privilege of receiving their awards. Well, Tiffany Schlain finally got her wish: the Webbys are officially exactly like the Oscars™.