This Is Us: Coming Out as a Directioner

Demographically speaking, I am the anti-Directioner. At 25, what confused days I spent fawning over pre-pubescent boys are well behind me, or at least, they should be. But between catching a few One Direction tunes (“Tunes”? That’s how old I am.) on the radio and enjoying Morgan Spurlock’s documentarian work (yes, even Mansome), I unironically watched One Direction: This Is Us — in 3D. And fuck you all because I loved every minute of it.

It’s the prettiest, glossiest, most overtly-promotional documentary I’ve ever seen — and that’s including Bieber’s Never Say Never. The audience is granted an intimate, but contained-access look into the road lives and meteoric rise of a global music phenomenon. For what has become the holy grail of cross-continental success, One Direction is this generation’s Beatles. America’s pre-pubescent and menopausal audiences alike have flocked to the vocal talents of five incredibly hardworking and charming young men. The universal appeal of Harry, Niall, Liam, Louis and Zayn is easily definable: they’re talented, gel and jam well together, and kind of don’t give a shit about much else, lending them the badboy nonchalance that is teenage-girl Viagra, as captured by the hilariously sad fan reaction shots throughout.

This is Us neatly packages the boys’ Cinderella story, from their humble hometown beginnings, through their meteoric X-Factor rise, to conquering the world’s biggest arenas. It’s as superficial as the subjects of their pop-rock catalogue, but with enough edge to entertain even the most ardent I-can’t-believe-what-has-happened-to-music-these-days curmudgeon. They’re certainly not the Best Song(s) Ever, but the multiple full-length live performances — complete with inventive 3D use — are pretty fuckin’ fun. I dare you to keep your legs from bouncing in more than one direction.

Orange Is the New Black Is the New TV

A woman watching “Orange is the New Black”
(Caption By: someone who doesn’t watch “Orange is the New Black”)

If you’re not already watching, prepare to sentence yourself to thirteen hours of house arrest to marathon-watch Netflix’s fourth original full-season release, Orange Is the New Black.

Based on the jailhouse memoir by Piper Kerman—a Yuppie blonde, Smith graduate who served 15 months in a minimum-security Danbury, Conn. facility—the show is a smartly outrageous dramedy from “Weeds” creator, Jenji Kohan.

Rivaling cable in content and surpassing it in distribution, the graphic prison comedy follows Piper Chapman (Taylor Schilling)—incarcerated in connection with her ex-girlfriend’s international drug-running, and details the day-to-day lives of her fellow inmates—as well as the fiancé (Jason Biggs) and life she’s left on the outside. Yet, Piper is intentionally white-washed, her perspective paling in comparison with the rest of the impressively diverse ensemble, not often—if ever—seen on television.

Piper’s plight as the beige fish-out-of-water in a hellacious penitentiary pond is a luring device for viewers to explore and empathize with the other inmates, fulfilling its ambitious tagline: “Every sentence is a story.” Bravura performances abound: Natasha Lyonne has effectively rehabilitated her career as the ex-druggie, Nicky; Kate Mulgrew captains the kitchen as Red, the Russian chef; and Laura Prepon is flawlessly deadpan as Piper’s aforementioned girlfriend, Alex Vause. And that’s just the Caucasian talent. (“It’s not racist, it’s tribal.”) Michelle Hurst is riveting as the no-nonsense Miss Claudette; Uzo Aduba elevates Crazy Eyes/Suzanne beyond caricature; and Laverne Cox is a welcomed presence as the male-to-female transsexual, Sophia.

Orange avoids prolonged Oz comparisons by eliminating the temptation and expectation of gratuitous violence (though it’s still susceptible to shock value). Instead, it relies on the heartbreaking backstories and experiences of these murderers, thieves, and drug addicts, who are neither weak nor subhuman. They’ve found themselves behind bars due to a series of unfortunate circumstances. As Lauren Lapkus’ Officer Fischer intimates to Piper, they’re not that different, the prisoner and the officer: they’ve both made bad choices, but only one of them was caught.

I’ve made plenty of bad choices, so prison feels like an eventuality, with an 80-20 split between insurance fraud and murder. As a white girl without cornrows or a neck tattoo—but a deep desire for both—I imagine I’d be a Piper, in terms of acclimation: wifed (and possibly knifed) early. With a “get ripped, not raped” mindset, I’d have taxpayers subsidize my six-pack, in lieu of wasting $30 a month on unused gym Groupons. I’d try to find God, but He won’t make it easy, since everyone wears Waldo stripes behind bars. Though, once I find Him, I’ll pray for Taryn Manning’s Emmy win for her portrayal of Tiffany “Pennsatucky” Doggett, Piper’s Christ-loving nemesis. I recited a similar awards prayer for Manning after her heroic turn as “Friend” in Britney Spears’ Crossroads in 2002; I lost my faith shortly thereafter. In addition to bible study and working my way through the classics, Piper Kerman’s memoir will undoubtedly be at the top of my prison reading list, as both a study aide and spoiler source. So, to whomever’s waiting for me on the outside, feel free to break our TV promise and watch the last season of Breaking Bad—I know how OITNB’s second season ends.

Fruitvale Station: The Trayvon Martin Prequel

The riveting Sundance jury prize-winner, Fruitvale Station, opened in limited release last weekend to an audience primed for tragedy and social injustice.

Based on the true story of Oscar Grant—a 22-year-old African-American man—fatally shot by an Oakland transit authority police officer in 2009, the film jarringly opens with shaky iPhone footage of the night’s tragic events. The gunshot rings out, the screen cuts to black, and the sold-out crowd of New York’s Angelika gasps in unison. What follows is a complex and passionate portrait of a human being—not a headline—in his last 24 hours, before his untimely and unjust death.

The compact film (84 minutes of stifling tears) is a celebration of Oscar’s imperfect life, not a posthumous martyrdom. Rising star, Michael B. Jordan (Chronicle), deftly embodies a flawed man, simultaneously capable of kindness and spite: a father, a partner, a son.

Fruitvale adeptly balances its evocation of heartbreak and anger, but is a distracting societal relic of prejudices past—a virtual implausibility in 2013. Grant’s killer, Officer Johannes Mehserle, served 11 months (of a two-year sentence) for involuntary manslaughter, after claiming to have mistaken his gun for his Taser. For those of you keeping score at home, that’s exactly one guilty verdict more than George Zimmerman, who mistook his neighborhood-watch post for the Bat Cave when he shot and killed 17-year-old Trayvon Martin. Moreover, we’re living in post-racial America, where our President isn’t constantly hounded for his birth certificate; where a fundamental part of the Voting Rights Act wasn’t upheld because nine historically-discriminatory states pinky-swore they’d behave; where even Chris Tucker can be cast in an Academy Award-nominated film.

Thematically, Fruitvale Station is awash with antiquated race relations, serving as the fictionalized backdrop for forthcoming franchise installments. Outside of the film’s universe, four years have passed since that fateful New Year’s Eve and progress has steadily marched on. Now, Jay-Z’s 99 problems consist mostly of popularizing Tom Ford as a lyric, Kanye West sells $120 T-shirts, and somewhere in post-racial America Miley Cyrus is (still) twerking.

Monsters University: Lesson Learned

A monster.

The Pixar machine has churned out its fourteenth feature with Monsters University. Even as a prequel, MU falls easily into the Pixar library, bolstering the CGI house’s universal adoration and undiluted creativity.

It’s Pixar’s relentless pursuit of timeless storytelling that enables Monsters University to (surprisingly) stand on its own while also marrying it to Monsters Inc. MU is an excellent reintroduction to a universe whose novelty has yet to wear off, as we explore a new corner with familiar inhabitants: Mike (Billy Crystal) and James P. “Sulley” Sullivan (John Goodman).

We’re reunited with Mike and Sulley, bearing witness to the formation of their partnership and unconventional evolution into the premier Scarers of Monsters Inc. The film immediately establishes a narrative of following the unexpected path; checklists and family legacies are null and void. The first act ends with the pair failing their first semester final at the very thing we know them to be best at (scaring) and getting dropped from the program. The high-stakes act break–a satisfying 180° from a threatingly-formulaic franchise film–was roughly when Leah stopped giving a fuck.

Enter Leah: the five-year-old Boo incarnate sitting directly in front of me. While literally every other moviegoer, diapered or otherwise, was enchanted by the Mickey Mouse’d representation of the collegiate lifestyle, Leah was calculating the trajectory of her seat-cum-catapult. She was unconscious of the welcomed vocal talents of Nathan Fillion, Josh Gad, and Bobby Moynihan, as she masterfully matched the movie’s volume with her own brand of surround sound. This tantrum machine was so intrusively disruptive, I’m conflating lines of the film’s dialogue with her mother’s admonitions.

For most kids, two hours is, understandably, too long to sit still for anything; for Leah, twenty minutes was her Zero Dark Thirty breaking point. The second act twist and fulfilling climax bridging the two Monsters movies were lost on her as she vacillated between high-pitched yelps for Mom, for soda, for fuzzy and the consequent sugar-induced rampage up and down the aisle–her light-up sneakers guiding her path of distraction. While I was trying to spot the notorious Pixar Easter eggs, Leah was watching me. Granted, I understood her confusion: with a toothy smile and unbrushed hair, I’m a passable Sulley.

Leah aside, Monsters University was not without its lessons. Firstly, don’t confine yourself to a path you’re too fearful to stray from–you’ll be pleasantly surprised where you end up. And secondly (but most importantly), NEVER confine yourself to a midweek matinee screening with children who don’t belong to you. To quote the eloquent Mike Wazowski: “Leah, shut up and watch the damn movie.”

Paula Deen to Star In “Racy” New Comedy

The horrifying promotional poster for “Behind the Times”

For some celebrities, using the dreaded n-word in the public eye can be a death sentence. But for a select few celebrities who have committed the ultimate faux pas, things may be looking up.

“People love shows about second chances,” said John Landgraf, president of FX. “We gave Charlie Sheen a second chance, and now we’re giving a whole cast of celebrities their opportunity to think twice before saying something they’ll regret.”

The show, titled “Behind the Times” is aptly named. The show will be about a small family from Savannah, Georgia in the year 1810 who gets transported to the future and has to learn to cope with modern day standards. Delilah Ann Cromp (Paula Deen) and husband Jeremiah Cromp (Michael Richards) must adjust to 21st Century living with their daughter Anna Ann Cromp (Gwyneth Paltro).

“It gets pretty heated,” said Landgraf. “They relocate to Atlanta shortly after they come to the future, and that’s when it’s time to fasten your seat belts.”

Every publicist in Hollywood has announced that none of their clients will be involved in the project, limiting opportunities for guest stars.

“They’ll see… once the pilot airs, everyone will want to be in the show. People love comebacks,” Landgraf insisted.

The show, set in Atlanta, will be shot in Wisconsin, for safety reasons.

5th Grade Drama Teacher Snubbed at Tony Awards, Again

Cornelius Pinbottom, drama teacher at Chester A. Arthur Elementary School in Pocatello, ID, sits in a wood-paneled teacher’s lounge and looks wistfully out the window. Behind him, a trash can is overflowing with past production photos of the Pocatello Pipsqueak Players. In front of him, a cup of coffee with the not-so-subtle scent of whiskey.

“You spend your whole life believing that if you work hard enough, someone out there will notice,” he says. “Show business is a bitch.”

Pinbottom, 57, has been the drama teacher at Arthur Elementary and director of the Pocatello Pipsqueak Players for 35 years and was runner-up for the Bannock County Teacher of the Year Award once, as well as winner of Arthur Elementary’s school spirit award in 1997 for the production of his original hip hop musical, Idaho, You Da Ho, Too.

Such accolades have gone unnoticed by the Tony Awards Nominating Committee, however.

“It’s all politics,” Pinbottom continues. “You’ve got to have an ‘in,’ somehow, know people… actually put up a play in New York City, that kind of thing. Nobody cares about regional elementary school theater anymore.”

Pinbottom made headlines in the Idaho State Journal for his shocking production of the Pulitzer Prize-winning play Angels in America: a Gay Fantasia on National Themes using his class of 5^th grade students. However, because he didn’t purchase the rights, slight adjustments were made.

“Angels in Idaho should have won ‘Best Play’ at the Tony’s that year. People in the big apple just don’t care about the Idaho arts. We sold out the theater doublewide-annex for three straight days.”

But those days are over for one teacher who never caught his big break.

“I’m hanging up my hat. I’m too old for showbiz. It’s a young man’s game now… I just hope the next guy gets luckier than I did.”

***

Since announcing his retirement, Pinbottom is rumored to be in the running for this year’s “Golden Potato” award for the arts, Idaho’s most prestigious theatre award.