TV Spot-Check: Glee

If there’s one show that seems to be the pop culture zeitgeist hit of the new television season, it’s Glee, and with good reason: the show is entertaining, engrossing, funny, and it’s got killer music. It’s also one of the most frustrating shows on television right now.

I think what’s so infuriating about the show is that it hasn’t decided with any consistency what it wants to be. High school satire? Full-on musical TV show that’s super campy? Pitch-black comedy? A showcase for some great natural singing? The show’s biggest problem is the style of music jarring with the style of the program. Nearly all of the songs arise in a natural manner (like they’re singing in rehearsal or are supposed to exist in a real-world environment). They’ve hired talented singers to fill the roles, but they can’t make the music feel organic at all (it’s all an Auto-Tuned hell, and they’ve picked good songs that usually do a really great job from a narrative standpoint, but they have so much gloss and production on them that it’s distracting). It’s what made “Ride With Me” such a treat, ’cause it sounded like they were all in a classroom joyously singing together. These people have the chops, for the most part – let ‘em sing.

Then, of course, there’s the dreaded fake-pregnancy storyline, which doesn’t work at all. God bless Jessalyn Gelsig, though, as the crazy “mom” to be – as she so loonily proved on Nip/Tuck, she does crazy about as well as anyone working in the industry. The Will/Emma/Ken triangle is working pretty well (now that they’re acting like adults about it and everyone seems to acknowledge that there’s chemistry between Will and Emma). Most importantly, the acting is consistently impressive, primarily from Jayma Mays (can we get her and Anna Faris playing sisters in something soon?), Jane Lynch, Gelsig, and Dianna Agron as pregnant cheerleader Quinn. Agron is the one who constantly blows me away. There are so many moments where you can just feel her getting it and bringing depth to what is probably the most stereotypical role on the show.

Though Glee has been all over the map and back again, there’s some quality that I can’t quite pinpoint that makes it work, even in its current flawed state. But I suppose I will take this as improvement, as a handful of episodes ago, I was tweeting that there was something nagging at me that was a gaping problem in the show. The show has only improved as it’s unfurled more episodes, which bodes well for the rest of this season. It’s a good sign that there seems to be so many fans and critics alike talking about the show’s flaws and pulling for the show to overcome them and become something great. It definitely has the potential.

Music Moment: Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel

Let’s just stew, for a moment, in some gem lines that Mariah Carey graces us with on her new album, Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel:

“It’s goin’ down like a denominator.”
“Love you like a frost pop, love you like a milkshake.”
“This is for real, for real, for real. / Oprah Winfrey whole segment for real.”
“Not even a nail technician with a whole lotta gel and acrylic could fix this. If we were two Lego blocks, even the Harvard University graduating class of 2010 couldn’t put us back together again.”
“Seein’ right through you like you’re bathin’ in Windex.”

On “More Than Just Friends,” after Mariah sings “I wanna be all on your lips like gelato,” we get a helpful backup rapper exclaim “ICE CREAM!” in case we were unaware that gelato (which fits with the rhyme scheme) is ice cream.

There’s also a song called “Candy Bling.”

All said, this is Mariah doing Mariah. Same ridiculous lyrics. Same bizarre 80’s cover song (this time around, it’s Foreigner’s I Want To Know What Love Is). Same penchant for proving that she does indeed have a really awesome whistle register by using it on every goddamn song’s climax. Same font that her name’s been scrawled in for every album except last year’s E=MC². Same vocal acrobatics all over the damn place. Same catchy, easily-digestible pop/R&B goodness. (All that’s missing, really, is a one-word title that would be better suited to a Lisa Frank line of products: something like Meadow or Breeze or Sunshine; hell, I wouldn’t put it past Mariah to have an album named French Braid.)

But all these ridiculous attributes are what make Mariah appealing. She’s campy and she’s over the top, but she seems to at least realize that she’s putting on a persona. Take, for example, the laughing that comes in at the end of that aforementioned ridiculous line about the entire Harvard University graduating class of 2010. Mariah at least isn’t oblivious, which makes this music go down easier. We’re laughing with her, not at her.

Where Memoirs falters is in variety. Her previous albums have been compilations of collaborations with several different producers, leading to albums like E=MC² where you’ll get a reggae-influenced song, a straight-up gospel ballad, a T-Pain abomination, and a retro-inspired upbeat number all on the same album. Here, everything sounds generally like Butterfly-meets-Rainbow. Butterfly isn’t a terrible album, but Rainbow certainly is, so you get some of Rainbow’s monotonous generic R&B background droning on some tracks like “The Impossible.” As the whole album is streamlined from a production standpoint, you get a lot of the same style thrown at you – count how many songs feature a really strong snare on the 2- and/or 4-count of the beat. It’s not detrimental, but the album is on the longer side at just under an hour, so you can’t help but wonder if a couple of the songs or at least the handful of reprises or interludes could’ve been ditched.

All said, though, it’s clear that Mariah will remain relevant for at least a few more years. After the disastrous post-Glitter years, it’s nice to see one of our perennial divas in fine form for three albums in a row. (Hell – she’s courting Oscar buzz for the upcoming Precious. Who would’ve thought that would ever be possible?) I don’t know if Mariah will ever rise above the task of putting out a merely competent record and make a defining artistic statement – she certainly hasn’t yet. But on each of her albums, you see glimmers of the possibility (here, it’s probably on “Up Out My Face (Reprise),” which out of nowhere, re-contextualizes a song as a boisterous marching band instrumental – it’s kind of awesome). For now, though, we have another album of largely-enjoyable tracks to tide us until Mariah decides to push herself that extra step to make a truly great album. B+

Music Moment: “Ellipse” by Imogen Heap

Full disclosure first: Imogen Heap is without a doubt my favorite musical artist. Frou Frou’s Details is my most-played album in iTunes (Imogen Heap is one half of Frou Frou with producer Guy Sigsworth), and “Hide and Seek” is my most-played song. The song in second place has almost half as many plays as “Hide and Seek” (though in my defense, I liked it before it was used on The O.C.). So I was bound to like Imogen’s latest, Ellipse. And, surprise surprise: I do quite like Ellipse.

If the album is at all anticlimactic, it’s because Imogen’s been so thorough in her use of various social networking during the creation of the album. There’s a 40-episode VBlog on YouTube that spans the last two years, chronicling the renovation of Imogen’s childhood home where she now lives, including the creation of a dream studio where she eventually recorded the album. The whole thing will eventually be edited down into a feature-length documentary to be released at a later date.

What strikes me about the endeavor now, having rewatched nearly all of them in light of the album’s release, is how similar the experience was to watching Shut Up & Sing, the wonderful documentary about the Dixie Chicks, which followed them, in part, as they made their last album. Both video projects were great in terms of seeing the creative process play out and track how songs evolved and changed and eventually ended up at their finished iterations. The by-product of the VBlogs is that, having been a part of Ellipse’s creation for over a year now, however indirectly, I feel attached to Imogen’s new album being a success (and I’m sure it’s telling that I feel it’s only appropriate to address her on a first-name basis in this review).

Thankfully, it is a success, though it isn’t without a couple nitpicky details I might change. Imogen’s music has always masterfully balanced the coldness that is inherent to electronic music with the warmth and passion of her vocals and lyrics. Ellipse is more than successful on this front. In an album full of synthesized sounds, the clear emotional strength of Imogen’s style comes through loud and clear. Songs like “Wait It Out” (about the inevitable end of a relationship) and “Half Life” (about unrequited love) are emotional standouts, but the upbeat songs fare just as well. The peppy “Tidal” and cheeky “Bad Body Double” are practically giddy.

If there’s one disappointment with the album, it’s that there isn’t too terribly much innovation going on with Imogen as an artist. This is basically Speak for Yourself, Part II. Now, I love her previous album. But seeing the process of making the album for so long hinted at more innovation than what is ultimately on display here. And of course, at a base level, you just want to see your favorite artists develop their talents. “Swoon” is the most egregious example of this stasis on the album, with a backing beat that sounds sucked directly out of “Daylight Robbery” or “I Am In Love With You” from Yourself. “Canvas” and perhaps “Little Bird” are the album highlights, creatively-speaking, because they sound unlike anything Imogen’s done before (though “Little Bird” lacks some oomph). And while I’m nitpicking: the song order isn’t quite what I think it should be (“Tidal” sounds like a second-to-last song, and “The Fire” is more of a bonus after-the-last-song bit).

Ultimately, though, I’m ecstatic that Immi’s back making and releasing music. It’s so great to see an artist utilize the Internet so effectively (I’m following her on Twitter, too) to keep fans engaged even in the down time between projects. I can’t wait to finally see her on tour, and I can’t wait to wear Ellipse out on my iPod (can you “wear out” an MP3, though?). I’m confident there’s a groundbreaking album in Imogen yet (to use the common comparison to Björk, Immi’s definitely got a Homogenic in her), but with Ellipse, she still hasn’t made it. Yet. A-

Cannonball #7: Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon

I really really really really want to like Wonder Boys the movie more than I actually do. It’s about writing (which I love), it has gay characters (why wouldn’t I love it?), one of said gay characters is played by Robert Downey, Jr. (who I really like), he’s in his underwear for some of the movie (RDJ is hot!), it takes place over a weekend where it’s super drizzly and cloudy out (LOVE this kind of weather), it’s super pretentious and literary (like me!), and it has a lot of actors I really like in it (like Frances McDormand, Michael Douglas, aforementioned RDJ, and Katie Holmes – back when we had NO idea she’d end up where she is today!).

But the movie kinda fell flat for me. Oh well, it happens: dust yourself off and move on. I tried my hand at the book because I’d heard nothing but great things about it (though that sort of recommendation didn’t work out with Chabon’s last that I read: The Mysteries of Pittsburgh), and because I was curious to see how things differed in the book from the movie. Like I said: a lot of the raw ingredients were there for me to really like this story, but the movie couldn’t coalesce these together in a way that resonated with me.

In fact, the book is quite like On Chesil Beach, a book I adore and am now required, it seems, to use as a comparison to every book I read from here on out. But it’s applicable here, I swear! Namely, in that both books seem to drag on for an inordinate amount of time but then blindside you with the catharsis and reasoning behind all that meandering. With On Chesil Beach, this was so effective because the book is essentially novella-length and this meandering doesn’t go on too terribly long, simply long enough for effect. In Wonder Boys, though, the biggest problem is that the book is clearly novel-length, and there comes a point where you just want Chabon to start putting the pieces together. Luckily, he eventually does, but he takes too long to get there.

Wonder Boys chronicles a weekend in the life of Grady Tripp, creative writing professor at some liberal arts college in Pittsburgh. He’s in the midst of a 2,700-page-plus follow-up to his mildly successful last novel and his editor Terry Crabtree is in town to read a first draft of it, as well as for Wordfest that the college is hosting for the weekend. Shenanigans of course ensue, involving the accidental shooting of a dog, stealing baseball memorabilia, the pregnancy of Tripp’s lover, the kidnapping of one of Tripp’s students, a transvestite, a tuba, copious amounts of pot, a brood of adopted Korean Jews, etc.

Actually, typing all that out, it sounds like the book should be a mess. And it totally isn’t. So kudos on Chabon for keeping it all cohesive. But the book drags, namely in the middle chunk of the book, wisely excised from the movie because it has absolutely no bearing on anything, where Tripp and his student James go to a Shabbat dinner with Tripp’s extended family. The whole time I couldn’t help but think “we get it Michael Chabon: you’re Jewish.” Chabon gives minor narrative justification for this chunk towards the conclusion of the novel (hint: it’s all very very meta), but that doesn’t fly for me.

Chabon does wrap things up, though, and he does so quite effectively. Tripp is essentially an adolescent doofus stuck in a middle-aged man’s body and to have him as first-person narrator for so damned long becomes frustrating. You want to shake this guy and tell him to grow the fuck up. He finally comes to this realization, and it’s to Chabon’s credit that this happens in the narrative at the exact moment when you’re ready to give up on the book. There’s certainly more method to Chabon’s madness than in Pittsburgh (which only festers in my memory the more distance I get from it); while it helps this time around to at least get what Chabon’s going for, it still doesn’t add up to a truly great novel. A good one, yes, but not a great one.

Cannonball #6: The Elephants of Style by Bill Walsh

I’m a dork. I admit it. Exhibit A: I just finished reading a book all about the nuances of grammar.

Yeah, dork.

So if you’re into that sort of stuff, this is a totally enjoyable light read. It covers all the gray areas of grammar (like gray vs. grey, etc.) and then explains what to do in these scenarios, as well as the reasoning behind the option writer Walsh puts forth. There’s not much more to the book than that. It’s not even about the basics of grammar, because Walsh assumes a base level of familiarity with basic grammar before picking up this book. Walsh’s style throughout admits regularly that these are nuances for the most part, and he’s key to point out the important points and the more nitpicky stuff he addresses, so there’s a kind of self-deprecating I-realize-everything-I’m-saying-will-only-appeal-to-a-select-group-of-people tone that makes it an enjoyable read. If grammar excites you, you could do worse than this little refresher on grammar.

My roommate, however, kept rolling her eyes at me the whole time I was reading it. You be the judge.

Music Moment: “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey

Campy song title and concept? Check.
Silly song opening? Check.
The vintage Mariah font back in play? Check.
Heavy beat with Mariah going vocal crazy at the end? Check.
Mariah in her underwear in an overly sexy pose on the cover? Check.
Absolutely ridiculously awesome album title (Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel)? Check.

Mariah: never change. B+

Movie Moment: Fired Up (2009)

Given the reviews for Fired Up, you’d think it’s a total trainwreck. Having now seen it, I must say that anyone who hated it has no sense of humor. I mean, of course it’s fluff – it’s about two high school football players who go to cheer camp to score with girls. But as my roommate and I decided, it’s kind of a borderline parody of all these cheerleading movies. There’s a scene where the entire cheer camp watches Bring it On and everyone at the camp enthusiastically talks along with the dialogue word-for-word. Funny stuff, while also totally acknowledging that this is basically every other cheerleading movie you’ve seen.

Basically, there are only about 5% of the jokes that aren’t funny, and everyone and every aspect of the film is at least twice as good as you’d expect. If you just roll with the fact that it’s fluff and that it’s got a predictable storyline, it’s a really good time. Totally funny one-liners, surprisingly strong chemistry from the cast, and just all-around a surprisingly decent film. Manohla Dargis of The New York Times called it “a kind of dumb but also kind of smart-about-being-dumb comedy.” Spot-on. B

Movie Revisit: Synecdoche, New York (2008)

I promised in my original review to revisit this film on DVD and I had the chance to catch it again. It’s still kind of all over the map a bit, but knowing what to expect going in this time around allowed for a more nuanced viewing and there’s a lot of stuff going on beneath the surface, as well as right there on the surface with this film. It’s full of ideas, full of a love for the possibility of film as a medium, so credit for Charlie Kaufman there. The cast is a magnificent group of actresses supporting a wonderful lead turn from Philip Seymour Hoffman, and the film provides several striking visuals.

My main point of admiration for the film, as well as my main frustration is that the film feels like you need a decoder ring or a cipher to piece the film together. It was kind of like Mulholland Drive (one of my very favorite films of all time) where you could spend days piecing the film together and coming up with some sort of thesis. Whereas David Lynch would probably have an unspecific answer for what Mulholland Drive actually means, I think Kaufman knows exactly what he’s doing here with Synecdoche, which is probably why I find the complexity and obfuscation in Mulholland Drive more interesting than here. Mulholland Drive is open for interpretation, whereas Synecdoche invites interpretation but with a definitive correct interpretation, something that equals slight frustration for me.

It’s still an incredibly interesting film, something that won’t get boring upon repeat viewings. And there are so very few of those films around these days. B+

Movie Moment: Gray Matters (2007)

Ooh… this one’s gonna be rough, guys. This went straight-to-DVD (I think – if it didn’t, it got dumped in LA/NY theaters then yanked after a week or two) and it shows. Heather Graham and Tom Cavanagh play siblings who are like Will & Grace in their co-dependency but with the gay reversed – turns out Graham is a lesbian, which she slowly discovers over the course of the film after a drunken make-out with Cavanagh’s fiancée (played by Bridget Moynahan).

Potentially interesting premise, yes? Of course. However, writer-director Sue Kramer, in her first feature, can’t milk an ounce of verisimilitude out of this film. Every single moment in the screenplay rings of contrivance and plot necessity, from the quickee Vegas marriage that Cavanagh and Moynahan get after only knowing each other a week to Graham’s wacky therapist (Sissy Spacek, clearly in this film because she lost a bet) holding therapy sessions at random venues, let alone the therapist character itself, who doesn’t behave in any manner remotely close to an actual therapist. For example: I doubt therapists react to their mid-30s client’s coming out of the closet with an emphatic “YOU’RE NOT GAY.” Ugh. Even the stuff that does work just seems rehashed from stuff we’ve seen before. Graham’s character, for example, has a trait straight from Sally Albright in When Harry Met Sally…: the complicated and specific orders when eating out was cute and charming on Sally, here it feels rote, regardless of how well Graham tries to sell it.

It’s all just depressing, mainly because Graham and Cavanagh are kind of good in the movie. You can see them trying hard to sell the horrible screenplay, and they’re wholly believable as the co-dependent siblings. I spent a lot of my time watching this wishing that they had been in a better movie together.

This is just another in a long chain of disappointing gay-themed films. When the Precious trailer came out (which you should all totally watch, by the way), a blog I read mentioned how rare it is to find good films made about realistic black characters, and the same is totally true of homosexuality in film. Yes, there are progressive portrayals of gay characters and great films that deal with homosexuality, but there are so few films that are about homosexuality, like this film. What an interesting premise we have here, dealing with a woman who realizes at her sexual peak that she has been playing for the wrong team (to borrow a horribly overused analogy). Pair this with an interesting brother/sister dynamic and this should have been a great launching pad for an interesting film. Alas, we’re left with odd stereotypes, a handful of jokes that land, and two charismatic leads flailing around for something to do. A real disappointment. D+

Movie Moment: The Prestige (2006), knowing the twist

I had the twist for The Prestige ruined for me. Thus, the movie was ruined.

Part of me doesn’t want to fault the film for this, of course, but I’m reminded of a film like Matchstick Men where even though there’s a HUGE twist at the end, the film still offers something upon subsequent viewings. With The Prestige, knowing the twist took away anything to glean from the film. It’s 130 minutes and felt about twice as long, and the film is paced and structured so oddly that it was kind of needlessly confusing.

There’s some really lovely cinematography, though, and the acting is uniformly solid (less so from ScarJo, but she’s still alright), but honestly, when the only thing a film has to offer is a twist at the end, well… knowing that twist going in kind of sucks the fun out of the movie, yes? I have to ultimately grade this a C-, though I’ll never know what I might have thought going into this knowing nothing.