Tina Fey’s ridiculously quotable comedy sees Cady Heron (Lindsay Lohan) adapt to life in an American high school after being homeschooled in Africa. There she meets outsider Janis (Lizzy Caplan), who enlists her in a scheme to bring down bitchy Regina (Rachel McAdams). It is, effectively, Heathers meets She’s All That. Continue reading →
Oh, LiLo, where did it all go wrong? TMZ reports that Lindsay “lied to cops Friday by telling them she was NOT driving the Porsche that slammed into a truck on the Pacific Coast Highway, and as a result she could be prosecuted and her probation could be revoked.”
This is another frustrating setback for someone who is an extraordinarily talented actress who really ought to be tearing up Hollywood in a good way right now. Let’s remind ourselves of happier times, eh? Continue reading →
Before they switched off Pandora in the UK, I found its deliberately anti-genre stance interesting because it would place frivolous ‘pop’ songs next to ‘credible’ artists. It’s probably stretching it to call any of these ‘rock’, but they’re of the type admired by people who don’t generally buy records by Beyonce, etc.
Stripped of the genre tag, note for note, there’s really not much difference between the songs. Wallace Wylie pointed out what’s wrong with the package of pop. If you take that away, you’ve got some great music that the middle-aged chin-strokers would probably like if they just started thinking of it as music. For example: Continue reading →
“Mostly only art created by women has any validity. The male experience has been created and recreated so often” – Everett True, 1992
That is such bulls***. It’s like saying that only Tuvan throat singing/rock hybrids have any validity because you don’t get much of that, either. (And, f***, it’s good stuff.) I don’t flip the sleeve over to check the gender before I’ll listen to the record, any more than I’d think too much about whether they were, say, Turkish. And, yes, a Turkish act does bring a certain flavour to the mix that you rarely get with non-Turkish acts. It’s informed and shaped by its Turkishness but not wholly defined by it because it’s more than that and to reduce it to that is to insult it.
Take Aylin Aslim, for example. I don’t know who she is, but I love her. I don’t have the slightest clue what she’s singing about (though Google translate tells me it’s called “ghoul”). There’s definitely a Turkishness to what she does, but I don’t set out to listen to Turkish folk. I just like this one – her – because she has such a don’t-give-a-f*** attitude and playful energy that makes her an absolute joy to listen to.
I can say without a shadow of a doubt that this is the first time I’ve ever seen a man crash through a window swinging on the “rope” of another man’s intestine. That was unnecessary, I thought between shocked giggles. But then, Robert Rodriguez’ Machete isn’t renowned for its subtlety.
The comment sliced through the internet forum like a knife. People had been giggling at photographs of fans at a sci-fi convention posing awkwardly with their idols. The jokes – some cruel, some offbeat – focussed on how socially awkward each autograph-hunter looked with the actors in their practiced poses. Nerds laughing at nerds.
The forumite raged that the kid clearly had learning difficulties – what kind of monster laughs at that? You could almost hear the shuffling of feet; almost see the downcast gazes of shame.
So, last night, Ricky Gervais presented the Golden Globes. He’ll likely never work again – in Hollywood at least – but that’s not the tragedy here.