Life Moves Pretty Fast. If You Don’t Stop and Look Around Once in a While You Might Miss It.

So I’ve been reading this book called Don’t You Forget About Me.
Basically, it’s contemporary writers talking about how the movies of
John Hughes changed their lives.  When I saw it at the bookstore, I
totally freaked out.  I mean, John Hughes movies defined much of my
youth and now these people, who are no doubt, more eloquent and
thoughtful that I am are writing about John Hughes.  I bought it right
away and got to reading.  I was about five essays in when I
realized…I can write a better essay about John Hughes than this.
They were all superficial, save one about the virgin/whore (molly
ringwald/ally sheedy) dichotomy.  None of them said anything all that
profound.  Needless to say, I was dissappointed.

Now, for those of you, who, unlike me, are not completely crazy and do
no aspire to be writers, you may not understand the need to write
essays.  But I assure you, though I never thought I’d assign myself an
essay after college, I can now think of nothing I’d rather do.  So
here it goes…How John Hughes changed my life.  By Julia Rose
Callahan

I guess we should start at the very beginning (a very good place to
start).  My first John Hughes movie, which also happened to contain my
first celebrity crush, came out when I was about seven years old.  A
little film called HOME ALONE.  That’s right, Macaulay Culkin alone in
the house, beating the crap out of Daniel Stern and Joe Pesci, plus
Catherine O’Hara and John Candy…can’t go wrong.

The thing about Home Alone was that it actually empowered the kids.
In a time when we were dealing with Richard Allen Davis and Polly
Klaas, a film where kids took control and fought off a potential
threat, was actually a very positive (though perhaps a bit too
hopeful) role model for young kids of my generation.  It gave us hope.
 This was really some of the first we were hearing about what
potential threats could be for us as youngsters and Home Alone showed
us that we didn’t have to take it lying down.  John Hughes was the
Leni Reifenstal of our generation (Leni Reifenstal with a much more
humane message, and without all the Nazi hoopla).

Mr. Hughes and I took a little break until my early adolescence.  When
I was in Junior High, my mom used to do this thing where she would go
to the video store on her way home from work and pick out movies.  It
always bugged the crap out of me that she did this because I didn’t
want to watch the movies she picked out (of course, they were
inevitably all great and I always loved them, but still…).  So one
Friday night my mom brought home a movie called The Breakfast Club,
and my life was forever changed.

These kids were me.  They felt what I felt, the dealt with the same
crap I dealt with.  I knew them.  And I knew assholes like Principal
Vernon.  Needless to say, all of us at a certain age have felt awkward
and out of place, even the most “popular” people have, at some time,
felt like they didn’t belong.

I really think the thing that got me about The Breakfast Club is that
I was a little of each of those people.  It didn’t matter what labels
they had, they all had similar problems.  I mean, who isn’t a little
bit of a basket case sometimes?  Ally Sheedy’s character most
resembled who I was when I watched that movie.  No, I wasn’t eating
Cap’n Crunch, Mayo, and Pixie Stick Sandwiches, but I was a total
loner, with few friends and no real way to relate to most of the
people I was in school with.

But a little part of me was Emilio Estevez as well.  I mean, I wasn’t
wrestling or really playing any kind of sport (except basketball), but
I knew what it was like to be under so much pressure you would do
anything to alleviate it.  I, like Emilio, blamed my parents, but
unlike Emilio, I did realize that I was actually the one putting
pressure on myself…his parents were actually putting pressure on
him.

This is also how I related to Anthony Michael Hall.  He gets an F in
shop because he can’t make a fucking lamp.  I never got an F in
anything, but I understand the sentiment because in my house a C was
like a D, which was like an F.  So if I got a C, I actually got an F
and then bad things happened.  And let’s face it, who hasn’t thought
of killing themselves (I mean, not necessarily with a flare gun).  Who
can’t relate to his plight, especially in High School?

Judd Nelson (who I met on Saturday, and who might actually be crazy)
was the Criminal.  He came from a broken home and acted out because of
it.  Now, my family was normal (well, not normal, but my parents are
semi-sane and still married), but I did act out because of certain
things.  I actually acted out because of all the pressure I felt.  Was
I as fucked up as John Bender?  No.  But I could relate to wanting to
act out.

I guess the person I related to the least was Molly Ringwald, but her
story includes the most pertinent/poignant part of High School life,
especially for women.  She’s the center of the Virgin/Whore dichotomy.
 Now, any UCSC people want to kill me because it seems like every
class you take at Santa Cruz (be it Chemistry, Feminist Studies, or
Underwater Basket Weaving) someone always has to bring this up.  I
think that now (thank you Sex and The City) we’re moving a little bit
away from that, but in the ’80’s it was still going strong.  In the
big moment where Molly Ringwald screams, ‘NO, I NEVER DID IT!’  She is
really screaming out of frustration.  What is she supposed to do.
She’s a prude because she’s a virgin, but if she wasn’t a virgin,
she’d be a whore.  As a modern woman, I ask, who hasn’t felt this way?
 You’re in your 20’s, you’re sexually active, you get drunk, you have
a one night stand, you inevitably feel slutty.  Sure your friends, who
have all done the same thing, assure you that it’s okay to just have
sex, but you can’t help feeling a little slutty…this feeling is even
worse when you’re younger (please don’t read into that…or do,
whatever).  It’s funny because I was watching the Breakfast Club last
night and I actually totally relate to Molly Ringwald’s character now.
 But, when I first saw The Breakfast Club, it was a different story.

So The Breakfast Club, in its more serious look at High School power
dynamics and sexual proclivities, introduced me to the concept that I
still carry to this day.  High school sucks, or as Angela Chase puts
it in My So-Called Life, ‘High School is a Battlefield for your
heart,’ but it’s also where you learn to survive in life.  It’s where
you learn to deal with pressure and lonliness and sex.  It’s a place
where you can make mistakes that (hopefully) won’t haunt you for the
rest of your life.  It’s a place where acting out will get you
Saturday School, but maybe you’ll meet people who are going through
the same things you are.  Maybe, you’ll stop seeing people in the
simplest terms and the most convenient definitions, and figure out who
people really are.

Plus, it’s got some of the best quotes in movie history.  So just
remember that screws fall out all the time…the world’s an imperfect
place and always remember to show dick some respect.

Where the Breakfast Club deals with the more serious, real problems
behind High School kids and the politics they are forced to adhere to,
Sixteen Candles deals with the most talked about problems in High
school…boys, dating, and being the middle child.  In one of my all
time favorite movie lines ever, Molly Ringwald sums up the plight of
the middle child ‘THEY FUCKING FORGOT MY BIRTHDAY.’  Her delivery is
impeccable, her expression is priceless, and the sentiment behind it
is so much more that a simple declaration of a forgotten 16th
Birthday, it’s a battle cry.  She’s not fucking around anymore.

I think Sixteen Candles is the most accessible of the John Hughes
Movies because, on the surface, there is not that much darkness in
this movie.  Unlike the Breakfast Club or Pretty in Pink, Sixteen
Candles doesn’t tackle suicide or deadbeat parents.  It doesn’t tackle
all of the pressures of high school.  It does tackle boys and dating
though.  And, for anyone who has lived through high school, we know
that this does take up a lot of time and energy where you’re a high
school student.

Sixteen Candles is the fantasy that we all want.  The hottest guy in
school (who also happens to be two years older than us) decides to
drop his shallow hottie of a girlfriend and date the frumpy, sophomore
who has more going on in her head than in her bra.

Now, let’s be realistic, even if Jake Ryan dumps the dumb blonde and
dates us, the movie ends before happily ever after falls to shit.
Because in reality, Jake Ryan goes to college and starts hooking up
with the college girls and his high school girlfriend gets left in the
dust.

And let’s take out the if.  From my high school experience, people in
high school are, on the whole, too superficial to ever dump the hot
blonde with huge boobs.  Would the real life Jake Ryan have sex with
Molly Ringwald?  Yes.  Would he date her? No.

But that’s why we love John Hughes, right?  He gives us hope.  Sixteen
Candles is the Sleepless in Seattle of high school movies.  In
reality, this scenario would never ever work, but we can dream.  So I
guess we owe John Hughes a little thank you for getting us to dream.
(we also owe him a thank you for casting John Cusack who then went on
to star in Say Anything…lord love Lloyd Dobbler).

When I was in middle school and our shop teacher would be out for the
day (usually to surf because it’s Santa Cruz and he’s a professional
surfer), we always got to watch a movie.  One name always sprang up
and one day we got to watch it; it was Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.  And
my life was never the same.  I never heard Danka Shoen the same way.
I never saw Leiderhosen in the same light.  I never could listen to
Twist and Shout without wanting to be on a parade float in Chicago.

Sure, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is every kid’s fantasy.  A day off
where you do anything and everything.  Not the harsh reality of
ditching class where you just go and do the same thing you would do on
the weekend.  Beach, watch t.v.  maybe, once or twice you might have
snuck off to San Francisco on a self-appointed day off, but never did
a day of ditching class ever lead to anything as awesome as Ferris
Bueller’s Day Off.

While, on the surface, the film is just a fun romp, we actually dig a
bit deeper into the psyche of high school through the role of Cameron.
 Cameron is one fucked up kid, he’s got asshole parents who ignore him
and by the end of the movie he’s primed to stand up to them (only
after crashing his dad’s 1961 Ferrari 250GT California).  Cameron
becomes his own man after a day off with Ferris.

Did this movie effect me in the same way that The Breakfast Club did?
No.  But it’s still one of my favorites, and still gives hope that we
can play hookey and have the time of our lives.

The last of the John Hughes films that I saw was another of the darker
ones.  Pretty in Pink tackles the class divide in high school.  Later
explored in much more depth in a little show called Veronica Mars,
Pretty in Pink was really the first to explicitly portray the Rich vs.
Poor divide so prevalent in many high schools.  I guess my high school
was a little better with this divide than most because I never really
noticed that big of a divide.  Maybe that was because we were divided
(as most high schools in the Santa Cruz area) by race.  Though, once I
saw Pretty in Pink, I did start to notice that the people who drove
brand new cars all seemed to hang out together.

Of course, I’m sure that divide is much more prevalent in places like
Los Angeles or San Francisco or New York.

Of course, as a total nerd magnet, I think that Molly Ringwald
should’ve picked Ducky instead of Andrew McCarthy at the end (which
was the original ending) but Ms. Ringwald didn’t want that to happen.

It actually gives a good message that she ends up with Andrew McCarthy
because it does sort of show that class divides can be overcome, but
really, he treated her like shit and he doesn’t really deserve her.

Anyway, I set out trying to show how John Hughes Changed my life.  I
don’t know if that was achieved.  I guess it’s harder than it looks.

Peace, Love, and John Hughes,

Julia

Up Front Season

So a couple of weeks ago I wrote about how hard it is when you and
your favorite t.v. show break up, and a few months ago I was writing
about awards show season and how it is my favorite time of year.
Well, right now we’re in my least favorite time of year.  It’s called
Up Fronts and they hurt me.

Basically, up fronts are where each network goes to new york and
announces their fall lineup.  Then, advertisers buy advertising space
from the shows that they want to advertise on.  And that shit can be
expensive.  A 30 second spot on the series finale of friends was
something like $500,000.

The Up Fronts are the time of year when I remember much of what
television is actually about.  It’s not about the great writing and
great acting, it’s not the complex story lines involving multiple
flawed, but charmingly loveable characters.  Nope, now is the time of
year that reminds me that television is about ratings because ratings
equal more advertisers and more advertisers equal more money.

So the shows with the not great ratings (a.k.a. the good ones) are
usually cancelled this time of year, and thus this is my least
favorite time of year.  Not only am I reminded that this business is,
in fact, a business, and as such, great works of art are often tossed
by the wayside for hopes of a bigger paycheck.

The fact of the matter is that many times the networks get it wrong.
They cancel shows that then go on to sell millions of DVD’s, they
don’t give shows time to come into their own (because sometimes it
takes a little while to really get the swing of things…look at the
first season of Gilmore Girls or even Friends, it takes them about a
season before they really hit their stride).  I mean, shows like My
So-Called Life or Freaks and Geeks are now lauded as some of the best
shows of all time, but they didn’t make it past one season.  Bosom
Buddies only lasted two seasons and is now known as Tom Hanks’ first
real start in the business (and they sell millions of DVD’s).

So this week, instead of breaking up with my t.v. shows where you’re
certain that though it hurts right now, it’s for the best, I have my
shows ripped from me.  Basically, it’s like that break up that comes
out of nowhere.  That break up where all of a sudden ‘it’s not you,
it’s me’ and ‘I’m just really busy right now’ and you’re left in
shock, not really knowing where to look or what to do with your hands.

That’s right folks, this week is the week where Julia’s heart get’s
ripped out because I have to part with shows I’m not yet ready to let
go of.  This season has been the most brutal because after this past
weeks up fronts I was left with one, that’s right one, show left on
network television.  Studio 60, which had been put on hiatus a few
months ago, has been officially cancelled and yes, there are still 4
mystery episodes that may or may not be aired (but will hopefully
appear on the DVD).  And most painful of all, my favorite show,
Veronica Mars, was cancelled as well.  So it seems that the shows that
don’t play it safe this season are the ones that will no longer be
airing.  And as much as I try to be optimistic before the up
fronts…as much as I try to have faith in the industry that I am a
part of, this week usually takes a little peice of my youthful hope, a
little peice of my innocence.

The one ray of light is that there will be a new show on the horizon.
A new pilot, that will capture my heart and mind, that will marry
great acting with great writing…and hopefully, hopefully will not
get cancelled in just one or two seasons.

Peace, Love, and Up Fronts,

Julia

Let’s Talk About Sex (and the City) Baby!

So last week, after my John Hughes email, I was talking to a friend who will remain nameless and she had an interesting take on what I was saying about the Virgin/Slut dichotomy that Molly Ringwald dissects in The Breakfast Club.  My friend posed a very interesting question:  As women are ‘allowed’ to have sex without being called a slut, what happens to the Virgins?  Interesting. 

We, as women, are so quick to be excited that we’re not considered slutty for having sex or wanting to have sex, we forget that now choosing not to have sex is looked down upon.  And I will be the first to admit that when my friend brought this up I hadn’t thought about that scenario.  As a woman of the 21st century, I always took pride in the fact that I am able to have sex and enjoy sex without being looked down upon. 

This started being true in the ’80’s.  Sure, the sixties and seventies were all about free love, but there was still a stigma attached to women who had sex with multiple partners.  But the eighties changed many things.  The late seventies and early eighties saw the teen sex comedy come to the big screen, where men set out to loose their virginities, but with movies like Little Darlings (starring Oscar Winner Tatem O’Neal and teen favorite Kristy MacNichol), women were cast in roles that had them searching to Lose it.  Of course, as a woman these movies always had dire consequences.  Rape, pregnancy, the ‘I should have waited’ excuse.  Sex was rarely good for women UNTIL…drum roll please, SEX AND THE CITY.  Sure, there were instances beforehand where unmarried women had sex and the world didn’t end, but those instances were few and far between before Carrie, Charlotte, Samantha and Miranda graced the small screen and changed womanhood.

Now, there is another person in my life that will also remain nameless who loves to argue with me about sex and the city.  Now, in all fairness, this person is married and has not had to date for multiple decades, so I believe that he/she  doesn’t really have the authority to comment, but that doesn’t stop him/her.  This person claims that Sex and the City is a depressing, and unrealistic version of single life.  But I see it differently.  Sex and the City makes it okay to be single…a revolutionary notion in this day and age.  I mean all four of these ladies are single for some prolonged period of time, none of them stay with a man who treats them like shit (I mean Carrie breaks up with Big because of this more than once), and when they are single there is not pressure between them to be in relationships.  There are multiple episodes of Sex and the City where Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda are the only single people at a party and they support each other, when their snooty married friends are looking down on them.

Not only did sex and the city change how single women felt about themselves…it changed how we viewed ourselves.  For the four ladies (even in the end) it is always about them first.  It’s about their friendship, not their relationships with men.  Though their relationships with men are important (and some are much better than others), their friendships with each other is what gets them through life. 

But Julia, you started this email talking about sex…where’s the sex?  Well, young ones, Sex and the City is (in more than just my mind) responsible for a HUGE change in women and their relationship to sex.  Okay…I’m going to warn you now, put the young ones to bed…and if you don’t want to hear your neice, daughter, granddaughter, friend, talk frankly about sex then stop reading right now because here it goes…and I’m not censoring it.

Sex and the City made it okay to have sex with lots and lots and lots of people (both men and women) and not be ’slutty.’  Enter a woman named Samantha Jones.  Samantha has tons of sex, and she has it in such a way that one could consider slutty, but in the show she is never seriously judged by any of her friends.  Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda are definitely not doing it as much or with as many people as Samantha, but they never seriously call her a slut, and they never put Samantha down for having tons of sex.  I’m going to make a claim that you all are free to argue: Samantha is the first woman on television who has lots of sex and isn’t made to feel bad about it.  Samantha loves orgasms (who doesn’t?), she loves dicks, she loves her vibrator, she is open, she is experimental, she is probably one of the best role models women have ever had…and not just in regards to sex (the fact that she runs her own P.R. firm is pretty awesome as well).

And now we women refer to are more sexually active friends as ‘the samantha of the group’ instead of ‘the slutty one.’  But Samantha isn’t the only lady who gets her groove on on a regular basis.  In fact, all the women of Sex and the City are pretty active, and that’s what is so great.  As long as there have been groups of female friends (after the 1950’s) there have been, as Margaret Cho puts it, The Sweet One, The Smart One, And Then There’s The Ho.  But really, in Sex in the City those labels dissappate.  Sure, Samantha has more one night stands, but all four of the women participate in many of these themselves.  Sex and the City not only does not judge the one ’slutty’ friend, but it shows that even the non-’slutty’ friends can be pretty ’slutty.’  And ladies I have to say…ain’t that the truth.  We all have give and take with our friends on which one’s the Sweet one (okay so this isn’t always negotiable), which one’s the smart one, and which one’s the ho.  

But, our new outlook to sex isn’t the only thing that rocked about Sex and the City.  Sex and the City (and I fully intend to hear back from my little friend who likes to argue about this show with me) showed dating as it really is.  It didn’t show some sweet, romantic, candlelight, 90210, Dawson’s Creek dating, no, no.   It showed the horrid,  we have nothing to talk about, he wants me to pee on him, you want to stick that where? kind of dating that anyone who has been single in the last 10 years or so has probably experienced.  It showed dating how it really is…a battlefield.  There are landmines, and undetected attacks, and more landmines.  People now date for so long that they have emotional baggage that would easily sink the Titanic yet again, and, they try to hide it.  But really, you can’t hide that much crap and sooner or later it all comes to the surface and you find out how fucking freakish everyone is.  Before sex and the city, that was never really spoken about.  Sure we told our girlfriends about the first time we touched it, the first time we licked it, the first time.  We talked about how bad certain things taste, we talked about how weird certain experiences were, and we definitely talked about how bad certain experiences were, but before sex and the city we didn’t have the assurance that every other woman was dealing with the same shit we were.  Until the funky spunk episode, how were we supposed to know that sometimes that shit just doesn’t taste right?  And that it’s okay to say, this tastes like ass and I’m not gonna take it anymore.

I warned you folks…it’s getting raunchy in here.  And you know what, you all have Sex and the City to thank for that.  For me personally, before I watched that show, I was never as up front and frank about sex as I am now.  Now, I have no problem talking about fellatio and cunnilingus (in much cruder words) and I have no qualms about having these conversations over lunch.  Thank you ladies  of the city for letting us live our lives and for letting us talk about our sexual proclivities, sometimes even in public. 

So, Julia, what of the virgins and the women who choose not to participate in copious amounts of copulation who you started off this increasingly loquacious email talking about?  Well, Sex and the City actually addresses that in an episode that takes place in the Hamptons.  Carrie looks on in a bit of Horror as her 25 year old shadow confesses that she is, in fact, a virgin…and is saving herself for marriage.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe in saving yourself for marriage.  I don’t care who you are…that is a terrible plan.  You have to test drive the car before you buy it.  In any case, Carrie, though shocked, handles herself quite well before deciding that  ’And then I realized, twenty something girls are just fabulous until you see one with the a man who broke your heart.’ 

I guess I’m not doing a very good job of standing up for the not so sexually active, but let me take another route.  I agree with my friend, now the women and men not getting busy are stigmatized, and yes, to a certain extent they shouldn’t be stigmatized for waiting…as long as they’re waiting for the right reasons.  Yes, I am making huge moral judgements right now, but from my experiences those who decide to wait until marriage to get busy, usually get married much too young and they are almost always divorced shortly after (hello, Jessica Simpson anyone?)  Sex is not a good reason to get married, though, it seems like in certain red areas of the country this is the norm.  No wonder the divorce rate is so high, no wonder people are fucking miserable.  Still, I don’t think that choosing not to sleep with a large variety of people is something to be stigmatized or something to be looked down upon…as long as people choose to wait for the right reasons. 

We’ve come a long way from having sex meaning you get pregnant, killed, or take some sort of dramatic fall, but let’s not lean too far in the opposite direction either. 

Peace, Love, and Safe Sex,

Julia

Summer Movie Season

Yes, it’s true.  The time is upon us.  Cue music, roll credits.  It’s Summer Movie Season.  Can I get a what what?

Okay, so I’m a little late, seeing as three, no wait, four of the biggest summer movies are already in theaters, but I can give you a little review, no?  Plus, there’s still more to come in the summer movie madness.

Well, I guess I have to go with Julie Andrews and start at the very beginning (it’s a very good place to start).

So the big kick off this year (much better than last year’s DaVinci Code, I might add) was none other than Spider-Man 3.  Though it was plagued with bad reviews, it went on to break the record for the biggest opening weekend of all time by making $151 Million, domestically.  Now, I read all the bad reviews, but I couldn’t stay away.  I love comic book movies and I won’t miss any of them (unfortunately, that means I have watched Ghost Rider).  Now, I’m the only person on earth that didn’t really like Spider-Man 2 (which is shocking, seeing as my favorite author, Michael Chabon, wrote the script).  It was a great movie until the end.  Spider-Man gives up his secret identity, and not just to Mary Jane…He gives it to a whole subway full of people.  What is that?  The comic book lasted for 40 years on the premise that Spider-Man had a secret identity, that’s what drives the story.  He can’t have real relationships, he can’t be with M.J. because he’s got a secret identity and he can’t be there for her.  Needless to say, I was skeptical when walking into Spider-Man 3.  But as I sat down, a miraculous thing happened.  The third movie actually made peace with the second movie.  In other words, I understood in the third movie, why it was imperative that M.J. find out that Peter Parker is Spider-Man.  The third movie explores their relationship in way that is so new and refreshing: even though M.J. knows that Peter is Spider-Man, they still can’t have a normal relationship.  He can’t be there for her in the way that others could because he has to save New York City…over and over again.  Now, the movie itself…could they have cut out the Sandman?  Yes.  I would have loved to explore the genesis of Venom (Venom is awesome because he knows Spider-Man’s weaknesses…the venom’s been in Spider-Man and thus knows him).  I would have loved to explore Gwen Stacey because in the comics she’s not the dumb blonde she’s portrayed as in the movie.  She’s actually a very real, potential threat to M.J.   But really, all in all, Spider-Man 3 was great.  And it achieved it’s purpose…it entertained me.

Now, since i’m going in order, the next Big summer movie opening was the ever-loveable Shrek.  Shrek The Third, made by the studio I am currently employed at, is funny, but overall it was a pretty big dissappointment.  Definitely not as funny as the first two, but it’ll do.  The one thing I will say is that Antonio Banderas as Puss in Boots is constantly hilarious and the Dreamworks Animation team certainly has a knack for making the feline very cat-like.  Shrek’s a good one for the kids, but really, the only reason I’ll buy it is because I have the first two, and it only costs me $4.

So the next Big movie was the most swashbuckling adventure of them all…the one I was most looking forward to:  Pirates of the Carribbean: At World’s End.  Who doesn’t love a good adventure with swordfights, cannons, and the ever-delightful to gawk at, Johnny Depp.  Now, this, like the other two trilogy movies, got horrid reviews as well, but like Spider-Man, I loved it.  It is true that it’s not the Johnny Depp show.  It is also true, that there is alot of talking.  I’ve never really understood this complaint.  There’s a lot of talking in a movie, okay, what’s the problem?  I get that you want sword fighting and swashbuckling, but you’ve got to get somewhere.  Without talking there’s no story.  There’s only one place I’ve seen a story work with little to no talking and that was in an episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer (hello, it’s like 45 min. long and part of a larger narrative) and there was some freaky shit going on.  But I digress, so yes there’s a lot of talking in Pirates.  But let me say a few things…talk a little bit.  Actually, there’s only one thing to say about the beginning of Pirates: Chow Yun Fat.  What a genius casting decision that was.  For real, he’s a badass and he plays a badass pirate and he does it with gusto.  I loved him.  Let me say another thing about the movie.  Pirate council, fucking genius.  I love that.  I love the ancient ritual part of the movie, it seems so realistic, even though it isn’t.  I like that they called back to the Pirate Code from the first movie.  And one more thing I’d like to say: Keith Fucking Richards.  Pure Genius.  He plays the guitar all aloof and weird and just totally Keith.  I actually kind of wished Mick had made a little cameo as well, but alas, can’t always get what you want I guess.  Now, one of the major complaints about the movie is that it focuses a lot on Keira Knightley and Orlando Bloom and that relationship.  But I liked it.  You finally got to see that it wasn’t all happily ever after, the end, tra la la, skip off into the sunset.  There was miscommunication and non-communication.  There was hotness, there was anger, there was sadness, in sum, there were all the elements of relationships and relationship problems.  I loved that Will and Elizabeth’s relationship was explored so thoroughly.  Also, the main talking part of the movie is the first hour or so, then we get into the action, and I have to say, there’s some great action.  Lots of boat battles, lots of cannons, and swinging across a whirlpool to swordfight.  It was great.  The ending, which I won’t give away, was the perfect amount of bitter and sweet, and of course, there was an opening for a fourth (which is already in pre-production).  In short, it wasn’t the first two movies, but I loved it anyway.

Now, the big, non-action movie, non-animated hit of the summer is sure to be KNOCKED UP.  And with good reason: it’s awesome.  I laughed the whole time, but it’s surprisingly heartwarming and hopeful.  The thing is, Judd Apatow, who wrote one of my favorite shows, Freaks and Geeks, and who wrote The 40 Year Old Virgin, is a master at working in a really and truly sweet story to an outrageously funny comedy.  He’s basically the best of both worlds: he can make a movie that takes the best of Wedding Crashers or Something about Mary and combine it with Sleepless in Seattle.  The end result is pure, comic genius that makes you feel good at the end.  I must say that Seth Rogen is a great leading man.  He’s totally the kind of guy you have a one night stand with and then go, what was I thinking, but he pulls off this sweetness that makes you go ‘oh yeah, that’s what I was thinking.  Go me.’  And Katherine Heigel.  I have to say, she’s an actress I want to hate (mainly cause she’s a bitch in real life), but I love her in Grey’s Anatomy and I love her here.  She’s the perfect blend of highly emotional (she is pregnant for god’s sake), intensely vulnerable, and a great guys girl.  Basically, she’s every man’s fantasy, but she’s also the kind of girl you want to be best friends with, and she’s not annoying about it.  Knocked Up is the one movie you shouldn’t miss.

Now, as for the preview part of this email…

Unfortunately, even though I work in The Biz (as some douche bags say), I’ve not had any sneak peaks at the movies coming up this summer.   What I will say is this: Friday, Ocean’s 13 comes out.  In all honesty, I couldn’t really care less.  I might see it if it plays for free at Paramount.  I liked Ocean’s 11, but didn’t see 12.  I get that these movies make A LOT of money and I get that everyone loves seeing George, Brad, Matt, and all the rest, but really, I’m not really a fan.  They’re usually fun though, so don’t let me discourage you. 

I feel the same way about the Bourne Ultimatum.  I haven’t seen any of them, I know people love them, but in all honesty, I really have no interest.  I will say this.  Doug Liman, the director, directed some of my favorite movies, including Swingers (with Vince Vaughan and Jon Faverau) and Mr. And Mrs. Smith (the movie that created Brangelina).  I have no interest, but I’m sure it will be good.  I have faith in Mr. Liman.

Now, I’m SUPER excited about the Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer.  I mean, I love comic book movies as it is, and I’m one of the only people who really loved the original Fantastic Four movie.  I thought it was very true to the comic book, and it’s one of the only comic books where the identities of the superheroes are known.  This makes it a little interesting.  The Fantastic Four, unlike Spider-Man, have to deal with fame.  They deal with being recognized on the street, they deal with being a group of Superheroes, they deal with the fact that they are all related (except for the Thing, but he’s like family).  They deal with much different issues than most superheroes and that makes them interesting.  But that’s not the only reason why I’m excited, no no.  Growing up in a little surfer town makes you prone to liking little surfers.  So it is not shock that the Silver Surfer was my favorite comic book character when I was growing up.  I absolutely love him, and I can’t wait to see him on the big screen…hopefully, he’ll get his own movie out of it, and not in an Electra kind of way. 

There’s a couple animated movies coming out : Surf’s Up and Ratatoullie.  I’m not big on the animated movies, but I might see the rat one, who knows?  Surf’s Up could be good, but I’m so damn sick of penguin movies that I think I’ll skip it.  I get that March of the Penguins was good, but seriously it seems like every movie that’s come out since then is about Penguins.  Just stop with the damn Penguins already.  People went to see that movie because it was good.  Make a good movie about some other kind of animal so that I don’t have to see the fucking penguins anymore. 

Evan Almighty might be saved by Steve Carrell, but I don’t know.  Did anyone see Bruce Almighty?  Didn’t think so.  It was crap.  This one might be ok, but I’m going to skip it.  It’s got a pretty funny premise: Steve Carrell as a modern-day Noah has to build an arc, whatever.  I feel like this is one of those situations where it could be good, or it could be really really bad.

And on to the last of the summer movies I’m not all that excited about.  A little movie called Hairspray.  You know why I’m not that excited about it?  Because John Waters already made it and it was one of the best movies ever.  Ricki Lake, Divine, Debbie Harry ( a.k.a. Blondie), fabulousness.  Now, I’m not a big fan of remakes, sometimes they’re good, but mostly no.  I mean, the only reason people remake a movie is because the original is so popular, but really, this makes no sense.  Why not remake all those movies that could have been good, but were really really awful.  I mean, I know the reason why.  Basically, who’s going to go see a movie that was originally really awful, but there are a lot of great stories out there that got made into crappy films.  Anyway, the thing that I think is kind of stupid about this Hairspray remake is that John Waters isn’t involved at all.  The thing that made the original hairspray so good is that it had John Waters written all over it.  He used the freakish looking people, he filmed in Baltimore, I mean Ricky Lake and a drag queen starred in it…and I’m sorry, John Travolta is no Divine.  I get that this has become a big broadway musical and I’ve seen it and it totally works, but rerelease the original into the theatres, don’t make a new one.

Okay, enough negativity, let’s get on to the good stuff.  Live Free or Die Hard.  Guarantee this will not dissappoint.  Bruce Willis is doing what he does best, entertaining.  Lots of explosions, lots of action, it’ll be great.  Plus, you’ve got Timothy Olyphant (from Deadwood) as the bad guy, and what a fine sick bastard he makes.  You’ve got John’s daughter to tug at your heart strings, and you’ve got the famous line.  So when you fall through the ceiling, landing on your comfy theatre cushion, be sure to yell it out to the world.  ‘Yippee Ki Yay Mother Fucker.’

Next up, The Simpson’s Move.  Okay, so it’s like 10 years overdue, but this will be awesome even though I stopped watching the Simpsons like 8 years ago.  I have a friend that works at this company that screens movies before they come out.  She said that they’re getting great feedback about it.  I’m super excited, and what more is there to say than The Simpsons in a movie?

And now for another movie that’s 10 years overdue…Transformers.  Yep, you probably remember the cars that transformed into a pterodactyl looking robot.  You might have watched the cartoon on Saturday Mornings and now, the great Paramount Pictures is bringing this experience to the big screen.  It’ll be awesome.  Great visual effects, great action, and Shiah LeBouf.  Now as much as it pains me to say this Shiah LeBouf is actually a really funny actor and he has a way of charming and winning over an audience (and not just an audience of 13 year old girls).  This will definitely be one that you’ll want to see on the big screen. 

And of course, the one we’re all waiting for because not only is the movie coming out, but the last book is coming out like three weeks after…it’s HARRY POTTER.  The movie coming out is the Order of the Phoenix (for those who aren’t total freaks, it’s the fifth in a seven part series).  This is my favorite Harry Potter book.  And everyone takes a collective gasp of air.  Yes, it’s true this is my favorite book.  And I’m excited about the movie (in case it didn’t come through the email that ‘excited’ was sung in a high pitched voice, it was awesome, too bad you missed it).  Plus, let’s just stop for a minute to talk about the casting.  We all know the leads are the leads.  Yes, to all the Brits, we here in america love Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and those who play them.  But Alan Rickman as Snape, awesome.  Helena Bonham Carter as Bellatrix Lestrange, brilliant.  Ralph Finnes (who i’ve met and is super nice and not creepy at all…this must mean he’s a good actor…ponderous) as He Who Must Not Be Named, genius.  And my favorite actor of all time, Gary Oldman as the ever-wonderous Sirius Black, fucking amazing.  This is going to be GREAT.  And if it isn’t, you only have to wait three weeks for the seventh book to come out and then you never have to think about it again….until the next two movies.

Peace, Love, and Happy Summer Movie Season,

Julia

Bittersweet Symphony

The Santa Cruz that I grew up in is much different than the Santa Cruz
that most of you all know.  It wasn’t the gorgeous, open-minded,
paradise that most people see it as.  Though it is one of the most
physically beautiful places on earth (I’m not arguing that point),
being young in Santa Cruz is somewhat like being in a war.  People,
many more than you anticipated, are lost along the way, and people
don’t come back, the way they left.  The Santa Cruz I grew up in was
one where my first friends got addicted to crank at age 13 (I was 12).
 The first person who died in my circle of friends OD’d on Heroin at
the age of 15 (I was barely 14).  It was a place where I was a late
bloomer, starting to smoke cigarettes at the age of 13, starting to
drink at 14, starting to smoke pot at 15…we’ll stop there.  But the
Santa Cruz I grew up in afforded kids who didn’t fit in, a sort of
respite.  A place where we freaks could be ourselves.

For those of you who knew me then, you probably remember the different
colored hair every few weeks.  Chain bracelets, chain necklaces, and
studded belts.  The now infamous jacket covered in safety pins and
patches.  The dickies, the converse, the black band t-shirts.  I was
soooo punk rock and thought I was pretty damn awesome because of it.
Living in Santa Cruz exposed me to drugs and sex at a very very young
age (among other things), but getting involved in punk rock, believe
it or not, steered me away from taking part in too much of that stuff.
 Sure, I experimented.  I drank myself stupid.  I did things I
probably shouldn’t have, but as I got more and more in to the punk
rock scene, I actually started doing those things less and less.

My first real Punk Rock Show was at the now defunct Palookaville.  It
was a show for the release of a CD called Santa Cruz Sucks.  Pretty
fitting, I think.  Basically, this was the beginning of the end of a
punk rock scene in Santa Cruz because all the hippie liberals who were
sooo accepting didn’t want these scary looking kids with spikey hair
and chains playing their loud music and dancing in those freaky mosh
pit things where they just slam into each other hanging out around
their town.

Anyway, at that first show at Palookaville, a little band named Good
Riddance played, and my life was forever changed.  Okay, so it wasn’t
that straight forward, but I did learn alot at that first show.  I
learned that you don’t stand right next to the stage because when you
get slammed into from behind by one of the guys in the mosh pit, you
end up with bruised ribs.  I learned that people who had cars would
always drive you home because your parents didn’t want to come pick
you up that late and the nice guys with cars wanted you to see the
rest of the show…they were staying for the whole thing.  I learned
the rules of a circle pit (watch your face because there are alot of
elbows and they hurt when they hit you in the nose).  But mostly I
learned that these freak kids, though some of them would end up strung
out or pregnant, were mostly smart, politically conscious kids who
didn’t fit in with the Water Polo players and surfers who ruled the
school in Santa Cruz, just like I didn’t fit in with the dumb girls
who didn’t care about anything but drinking and having bonfires at the
beach.

At first, I didn’t really know what I was doing, but as I started
getting more and more into this scene I started learning the major
players…everyone listened to Fury 66, Good Riddance, and Riff
Raff…they were the local Santa Cruz bands.  Everyone listened to the
Sex Pistols, Crass, and the Ramones…they were the classics.  And
everyone listened to A.F.I. (before they sold out to capitol records).
 It was a great time: shows happened one, two, sometimes three times a
week.  They usually didn’t cost more than $5, and I went to every
single one.

Over the years, shows became harder and harder to put on.  Cops
cracked down on us poor punks, Palookaville closed, thursday night
showcase (where local bands played at the catalyst for $3) stopped.
There were very few shows.  There was, however, one constant
throughout my time in Santa Cruz.  A band named Good Riddance.

I can’t even count how many times I’ve seen them, but they seem to
have been around throughout my young adult life.  I remember seeing
them when A.F.I. jumped onto the stage and played about three songs
while waiting for Good Riddance (whose van was experiencing technical
difficulties).   I remember seeing them right before the fateful
election of 2000, when Russ, the lead singer, reminded us not to vote
for the lesser of two evils just because he’s the lesser of two evils.
 I even saw them in London when I was there.  But it’s not just that I
got to see them a million times.  It was also that the music they sang
was exactly what I believed.  They sang about respecting women, about
being anti-war, about not getting in fights in the middle of a mosh
pit, they would stop playing if people started fighting.  Good
Riddance, in a very big way was responsible for a huge part of my
political and social awakening.

Okay, I’ll get to the point.  On Saturday night Good Riddance played
their second to last show in San Diego.  On Sunday night they played
their last show in Santa Cruz.  On Saturday night I saw them for the
last time.  And I have to say, I was a little choked up.  Okay, I was
more than a little choked up.  It was one of the most bittersweet
nights of my life.  It was one of those nights where one part of your
life comes full circle.  Of course, my friend and I got lost and ended
up at the Mexican border (in a maneuver that can only be pulled by a
Callahan I actually got lost and ended up in another country).  We did
manage to get back and watch the show.

Now, I need a little flashback.  Think back to the Election of 2004.
This is really one of the first times in my life that I changed over
night, Literally.  I had just spent a year of my life defending
america to many a Briton who had a good question.  Why on earth is
Bush the president?  And I told them…He stole the election.  That
was the only explanation.  So in November of 2004 when he was elected
by this country, I lost it.  I lost all my idealism.  I pretty much
lost hope.  I became a little more bitter, a little more angry.

But you know what, on Saturday night, I gained back a little bit of my
youthful hope and idealism.  It’s hard to be in a room of people,
mostly young people, all of whom throw their fists in the air and
chant, ‘I STILL CARE,’ at the top of their lungs, and not gain some
hope.  Maybe if we all start caring, and I mean really caring again,
things can change.  And in the immortal words of Good Riddance:

I’LL BE THE LAST BELIEVER AS LONG AS I STILL CARE.  AND I STILL CARE.

Peace, Love, and Good Riddance,

Julia

Bad Breakups

When you have a bad breakup it feels like the world is ending.  And
the moments leading up to it are some of the worst.  The Denial:
We’ll be fine.  It will get better.  We just need time.  The
Negotiation:  Maybe we’re just moving past the honeymoon phase.  I
miss the constant euphoria, but it had to end sometime.  And the
Acceptance:  I just can’t do this anymore.  We’ve both changed.  It’s
not you, it’s me (read: actually, it’s totally you).

Yes, we’ve all been through it.  The different feelings, the wanting
to die, the not eating and not sleeping.  When it stops working with
someone we love, intense, intense pain occurs.  Pain that is all
consuming.  Pain that clouds our every action and every thought for a
certain period of time.

No.  I did not just go through a bad break-up.  But, in fact, there
are certain break-ups that we don’t talk about.  We’re embarrassed to
admit that we feel similar (if exponentially less intense) feelings
when other things we love stop working for us.

I’m talking, in particular, about T.V. gone bad.  You all know this
feeling:  your favorite television show, the one that is so brilliant,
completely falls apart.  You keep watching because you feel some sort
of obligation to your friends at West Beverly High or Central Perk.
You feel obliged because you’ve spent so much time with them.  You’ve
had great moments together.  Pregnancy scares, drug addiction, smelly
cats, weddings, losing your virginity.  But even after all those great
and sometimes emotional moments.  Even after your weekly trysts that
you’ve looked forward to for years.  Something is missing.  And you go
through the steps.  The Denial:  It will get better.  They can’t all
be great.  It happens to everyone.   The Negotiation:  Well, it’s not
as good, but it’s still better than most t.v. shows.  Maybe I’ve just
gotten so used to how great it is, that it doesn’t seem as great.  And
the acceptance:  What am I going to do on Thursday nights?  I miss
Brenda.  I just can’t do this anymore, it’s too painful.

When you finally hear it’s going to be ending, you always tune in for
the last episode.  I’ll admit it, I cried in the last episode of 90210
even though I hadn’t watched the show in years and didn’t know who
half the cast was.  But usually, you realize that the breakup was a
good decision.  I’ve moved on.  My thursdays are filled with something
new and different:  Interns at Seattle Grace Hospital.

It’s like when you see your ex at the grocery store or the coffee
shop.  You inevitably look like total shit.  You’re not with the new
guy your dating (of course) because why would things go right like
that?  You have the awkward how’s it going conversation.  And you
inevitably realize that you are way happier now that you’re dating
your own personal McDreamy.  You walk away from that last conversation
(hopefully the last one ever) feeling like you made the right
decision.  And yes, the decision was hard at the time.  Maybe the most
difficult decision you ever had to make, but now…Now, you realize
that it was the right one.

Now you realize that your thursday nights are better spent with the
real McDreamy than by Ross proclaiming yet again that they were on a
break.  Now you realize that maybe thursdays are better spent in
Seattle than in The O.C.  Then, it was painful.  You felt betrayed.
You felt like you were betraying Dylan McKay…and who wants to betray
Dylan?  He was so dark and brooding and sexy.

But really, you couldn’t do it anymore.  And it had to end.  And maybe
it ended bad…in gunshots and amnesia.   But now that it’s over and
you’ve had closure, it was the right decision.

It’s okay people.  I know your pain.  Sometimes it doesn’t work out.
And you know what…it’s a painful prolonged decision to stop watching
something that’s so much a part of your weekly life.  But sometimes it
has to be done.  And eventually, the void will fill, you’ll move on.
It’s okay to grieve…to go through the phases…to have a bit of
closure.  It’s okay.

Peace, love, and the good kind of closure,

Julia

Unspoken Agreements

In Los Angeles there are unspoken agreements.  Unspoken agreements
between sales people and famous people.  When you’re famous, it’s not
like you can just hibernate in your ginormous mansion when you’re not
working.  Famous people are still normal.  They grocery shop, they
walk up runyon canyon with their overly primped dogs, they even go buy
books and clothes and shoes.

But in Los Angeles, there is this unspoken agreement.  We, the sales
people, agree not to call the tabloids when we see say Drew Barrymore
come in with a little director named Spike Jonze.  We, the sales
people, agree not to call the paparazzi when they kiss in the
photography section of a certain bookstore on Sunset Blvd.

And they, the talent, agree to be nice to us and not get mad when we
have to help other customers.  We keep our end of the bargain, and
they keep theirs.  We get to meet people that we’ve idolized since
they first started screaming in blonde curls and little jean overalls
when the friendly alien was hiding in the closet.  We get to be face
to face with people we’ve loved since she posed in playboy and took
off her top on David Letterman.

We get to meet people who directed the beastie boys’ video
Sabotage…oh yeah, I think the directed a little movie called Being
John Malcovich as well.

We, the sales people of Los Angeles (the vast majority of whom are
hoping to someway be involved in ‘the industry’ as we so adoringly
call it) come face to face with our idols on a daily basis.  We keep
their secrets.  We know who’s dating who before US weekly does.  We
know who buys what to keep themselves looking happy, healthy and
skinny.  We know who buys the dirty magazines.

Those of us who split our time between certain high up executive
offices on the Paramount Pictures studio lot and the retail selling of
books know that two certain people are about to start shooting a movie
together.  Hmmm, director dating his lead actress…shocking!!!

But coming face to face with people you have such profound respect for
can be a little scary.  When you don’t live in L.A. the odds that you
will run into Drew Barrymore and Spike Jonze together is slim to say
the least.  But when you live in L.A….especially when you work in
retail in West Hollywood it is a very distinct possibility.

Now it may seem to you like I freak out about famous people alot.  But
the truth of the matter is, I see a ton of celebrities on an almost
daily basis and I couldn’t care less.  But just like any of you in any
of your respective professions have people that you look up to as
masters of whatever craft you are in, I do too.  Of course, the
business I’m in just so happens to be one that is viewed all over the
world by hundreds of millions (if not billions) of people.  People
whose names are known the world over.

Really though, I freak out about the little people.  I freak about the
writers (who would’ve guessed).  When I met the, now acadamy award
winning, writer of Little Miss Sunshine my palms got sweaty and I was
a little shaky.  This man wrote a movie that I could only hope to come
close to some day.  That movie is perfectly written.  There’s not a
flaw that I can see in it.

And yes, I’ve loved Drew Barrymore since I used to sit at home and
watch E.T. on our ancient VHS player as a kid.  I was in awe of
someone so free when I was 12 and saw her flash David Letterman.  And
let’s just talk about the wedding singer for a second.  Thanks to Drew
I’ve been called Julia Goolia since I was 14 years old.

Pair that with Spike Jonze, who directed all of my favorite music
videos (sabotage, buddy holly by weezer, the fatboy slim videos).  I
mean, as a kid in the 90’s those were what it was all about.  (And the
music was still good back then).

So here’s to meeting the people that inspire you to do great
things…whoever those people are, we salute you.

Peace, Love, and Inspiration,

Julia

P.S.  That annoying kid from last week came in again.  This time he
wanted a book that was made into a movie.  (he wanted me to point out
all the books that were made into movies…again with the almost
smacking him).  But I’m growing…I wasn’t as big of a bitch this
time.  I gave him some Philip K. Dick.  Do Androids Dream of Electric
Sheep?  (A.K.A.  Blade Runner)   and A Scanner Darkly.  He paid with a
Black AmEx.  God love Los Angeles.

A Battle of Epic Proportions

I come from a long line of teachers.  Granparents, aunts, parents, all
are in the field of education.  And I know from personal experience
that they are all great at what they do.  I have the utmost respect
for educators, especially educators that work with kids that don’t
want to learn.

I’ve dabbled around in tutoring and training, but it wasn’t until
yesterday that I actually came face to face with what teachers are
actually up against.  And it’s not like I experienced the brunt of it,
just a frustrating little faction of how unmotivated kids can be.

I was working at the bookstore yesterday and a kid who couldn’t have
been more than 13 came up to me asking about bestsellers.  He wanted
to know if we had a section of bestsellers.  Now, like any bookstore,
the bestsellers are near the front of the store so I showed him where
they were, but that was not the end of this little terror.  Three
minutes later he asked again for bestsellers.  I got the feeling that
he wanted me to show him exactly what the bestsellers were.

Now, I don’t know how many of you have actually looked at a book
(apparently that kid hadn’t ever seen the cover of a bestseller)
because they advertise the shit out of the fact that any particular
book was or is a bestseller.  So I took this kid, who, judging by his
parents, was a spoiled little you know what, and started grabbing
every book that said bestseller on it.

Now here’s where I actually laughed out loud in the kid’s face.  Yeah,
I know I’m a bitch.  I have no problem laughing in a kid’s face when
he’s being ridiculous.  Hell, I have no problem laughing in anyone’s
face when they’re being ridiculous.  I know that being ridiculous is a
sort of L.A. thing, but I don’t buy into it and find endless amusement
in how damn seriously people take themselves (in all fairness, I had
no problem laughing at the same kind of people in Los Gatos or Aptos
or any other self-important group of rich people when I lived
elsewhere, so it’s not exclusively a trait specific to Los Angeles,
but it does seem abundant in the West Hollywood/Beverly Hills area).

But I digress…this kid actually scoffed at the books I handed him.
And, to tell you the truth, I did put some thought into the books
before it became obvious that this kid couldn’t care less what the
book was.  This revelation came when the kid scoffed, and then noted
that all the books I was handing him were ‘too long.’   Now, I’m not
feeding this kid War and Peace.  Hell, I didn’t even give him John
Irving.  I was giving him books that were around 300 Pages long.

I’m sorry, but I can read that in a day.  I know that not everyone
can, but 300 pages is not that many even for high school.  I swear, it
took all my might not to just slap the kid. Like I said, I did laugh
out loud at this point.  And promptly gave him a novel that was about
150 pages long.

So I said earlier that I’m a mean nasty bitch.  This is probably the
reason that if I ever go into teaching, I’ll be teaching college.  I
have not one ounce of patience for that shit.  I almost walked away
and just said find the damn book yourself.  Then it caught my eye.
Just released on paperback in a nice aquamarine colored cover.

I gave the kid Everyman by Philip Roth.  Have fun with your short book kid.

Peace, Love, and Vindictiveness,

Julia

P.S.  Thank you to all my teachers and my family who are teachers for
putting up with that kind of shit.  I would just slap them.  You’re
better people than I am and my deepest thanks for molding the minds
that will allow you.

Just a Good Old-Fashioned…

MOVIE REVIEW.

That’s right folks, it’s movie review time.  Cue Music, roll opening
credits and sit back and relax because we’re doing multiple movies
this week, and believe you me, I’ve got a bit to say about each of
them.

We’ll start off light then get to the heavy stuff.  So, I lied a
little.  I don’t have much to say about this one.  Blades of Glory,
Paramount’s figure skating movie starring Will Ferrell, is exactly
what it seems to be…a Will Ferrell movie about figure skating.  I’m
not a huge Will Ferrell fan, as I think that he’s at his best when
he’s not in the starring roll (hello, Austin Powers anyone?).  But as
Will Ferrell movies go, this is one of the better ones.  I was
laughing the whole time, much thanks to Will Arnett (from Arrested
Development) and Amy Poehler (from Mean Girls).  The problem I had was
that Will Arnett and Amy Poehler, who are infinitely more funny than
Will Ferrell and Jon Heder (I’m one of those that HATED Napoleon
Dynamite…let the mad email responses ensue), were underused to say
the least.  They are two of the funniest people living right now, and
even when they are used, they’re not used that well.  It’s nothing to
do with their acting, the script is unkind to them.

Anyway, the point of this little ramble is to say, if you like Will
Ferrell, you’ll love Blades of Glory.  If you don’t like Will Ferrell,
you’ll hate it.

Now, on to the Disturbing.  On Monday, I got to see a sneak peek of
Paramounts ‘update’ of Rear Window called Disturbia.

Okay, I know what you’re thinking because I was thinking the same
thing.  What the fuck is an update?  And why the hell are they doing
it to Rear Window?  That film is close to perfect and directed by
Alfred Hitchcock, why are we updating it?  Plus, who, in this day and
age is going to fill in Jimmy Stewart or Grace Kelly’s shoes?  Answer,
No one.

Disturbia is exactly as it sounds…an UPDATE.  It is in no way, shape
or form a remake.  I think they learned they’re lesson from the Psycho
remake.  I was skeptical to say the least, when I walked into the
theater, but I decided I wouldn’t compare it to Rear Window unless
they had remade Rear Window.  In which case, I would have walked out
of the theater.

I was more than pleasantly surprised by the fact that this movie was
not a remake, instead it took the great story of Rear Window (person
who can’t leave the house starts watching his neighbors and realizes
that one is a murderer) and made an entirely different movie out of
it.  And it’s amazing.  Disturbia is quite possibly one of the best
thrillers since the Sixth Sense.  This is a little embarrassing, but
at one point I literally screamed out loud and jumped about 3 feet in
the air.

Really, it was just a great movie that bared little resemblence to the
film it was based on.  I definitely reccommend it.  It comes out
friday.

And for the finale.

Last night I went to see GRINDHOUSE.  Let’s get a few things out
there.  Yes it is 3+ hours long, yes it is over the top violent
(hello, Quentin Tarantino…what did you expect?)  Yes, it is two
seperate movies.  And you know what?  There’s a vast difference
between the two.

The title Grindhouse refers to the b-movies that played at grindhouse
cinemas.  They usually played in double features and were seperated by
ads for movies of the same ilk. The B-movies or Exploitation films as
they are sometimes called, are characterized by excessive violence,
gratuitous nudity, and usually one mysterious hero that dies as he
saves the world.  In other words, it’s great fun.

The actual movie Grindhouse is a joint venture between Quentin
Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez (directed Sin City).  Each of them
directed a movie and they are both shown one after the other.  The
movies are seperated by ads for other exploitation films.  It’s great.

The first film, Planet Terror, is Robert Rodriguez’ film and I must
say…it’s amazing.  Zombies with blisters that boil out of their
faces.  Rose McGowan with a machine gun for a leg (hello, best thing
ever).  Bruce Willis as the bad guy.  Tons of cheezy lines, over the
top gore, Said from Lost as the man who takes other men’s testicles
instead of say scalps.  And on top of it all, it’s actually a pretty
scary movie.  Not to mention the fact that it’s possibly one of the
most badass films I’ve ever seen.  And has the best lines ever.  This
is a must see.

The only complaint is that Tarantino makes a guest appearence.
Tarantino needs to be told that he is a horrible actor.  Stick to film
making Quentin.  The only role he was ever good in was his role in
Pulp Fiction and I’m sure that was a fluke.

Now, the second film in Grindhouse is called Death Proof.  This is
Quentin’s movie.  So you may remember a while ago when I wrote about
how I hate to love Quentin Tarantino.  Well, he’s finally made a movie
that is crap and I find myself heartbroken.  Even though I’ve been
waiting for this to happen for close to a decade I was totally crushed
by the fact that he made an almost unwatchable film.  There’s too much
talking.  I know, it’s shocking, a Tarantino movie with a bunch of
talking.  But it’s not the awesome Royale with Cheese type of talking
that is what everyone loves about Tarantino films.  It’s uninteresting
and not all that nicely written talking that turns out to be just
plain boring.  Were it not for the awesome chase scene at the end,
Tracie Thoms (played Joanne in Rent), and the powerhouse kick to Kurt
Russell’s face by Rosario Dawson, this movie would have been fucking
awful.  As it was, the first hour or so sucks and is followed up by
one of the best chase scenes in cinematic history.

I guess I was just crushed by the fact that Tarantino finally failed.
I mean it was bound to happen sooner or later. And you know what?  I
thought I would love it, but it’s like when the Pope was declared
fallable.  I mean, we all knew he was, but when you come out and say
it, it’s still a bit devestating.

Also, Quentin makes another cameo in Death Proof.  Again,
Quentin…stick to film making because, you suck as an actor.

I guess the conclusion is you should definitely go see Grindhouse, but
be sure and bring some cards or something for the first hour of the
second film.  Believe me, you’ll need them.  But put them away when
the chase scene begins because it rocks.

Alright, cue exit music, roll end credits.

That’s all for this week on useless information with Julia.  Thank you
for listening and writing in.  Next week be sure to tune in for the
telethon.  It’s your donations that keep this place going.

Peace, love, and good movies,

Julia

Just A Small Town Girl…

So I’m having a torrid love affair.  No, not that kind of love affair
(this email does go to my mother, and more importantly my father).  It
all started last Sunday night.  I got off work at 9:30 as usual and
headed to my apartment.  I made myself a small snack, went on the
internet for a little while and got into bed.

I usually fall asleep with the T.V. on because I hate silence (I guess
that’s why I’m a big city girl through and through.  Perhaps it has
something to do with my ridiculously, awesomely loud family, but who
knows).  Anyway, I curled up to go to sleep and I waited to fall
asleep, and waited to fall asleep, and waited to fall asleep.
Finally, around midnight I crashed….only to be awoken by my least
favorite thing in the world at 1 am, complete and utter silence.
That’s right, in the middle of Hollywood, right off of Franklin Ave.
there was silence.  No traffic, no sirens, no loud armenian music.
It was creepy to say the least.

Finally, one single dog began to bark.  Now those of you who know me
know that as much as I hate silence, I can’t fucking stand dogs.  They
bug me with their happy trusting slobbery ways.  And the barking makes
me want to shoot someone…or something, as the case may be.

Anyway, I turned the T.V. back on and tried to go to sleep, but, to my
dismay, I couldn’t do it.  Not only was I not tired, I was so not
tired I could have gone out and run a marathon (if I was sure my heart
and lungs wouldn’t explode….which they would).

Finally, Finally, at 4 am I fell asleep.  Only to be awoken by my
alarm at 7 telling me it was time to go to work.

Unbelievably, I was not tired.  I was alive, alert, awake,
enthusiastic.  I even went on a nice long walk into West Hollywood
(from Hollywood and La Brea) on my lunch break.  On this fateful
monday, I was working at my third job, as a Production Assistant.
Basically, that means I’m the office bitch, but instead of just having
to do copying and filing, it means that on a moments notice I’m sent
to every and any corner of Los Angeles to pick up or drop off some
minor, usually insignificant piece of crap.

So at 3:30 last Monday, I was driving back to the office from the nice
bank in Beverly Hills when it all came plowing into me like a freight
train.  I was freaking exhausted.  I almost fell asleep in the car
(thank god for showtunes).  So when I left work at 6 I thought, I’ll
eat a little, watch a little T.V. and go to bed early, since I had to
get up at 6:30 the next morning.

So when 9:30 rolled around  I curled up into bed turned off the
lights, and proceeded to stare at the wall wide awake for an hour.
Now thoroughly pissed off, I tore off the covers, turned on the light
and popped in none other but the Bollywood Dance Workout Video (you
read that right.)  I had figured out the problem.  Thank you mom, but
now it seems that one, Julia Callahan, cannot sleep unless she gets a
certain amount of exercise each day.

This may seem like a blessing to many of you, who, like me, hate
working out.  The idea of jumping on a treadmill makes me want to
gouge my eyes out with a spork.  Now, I am forced to work out on a
daily basis.

No, it’s not a blessing in disguise.  It’s a fucking curse when you
work anywhere from 8-16 hours a day.  On days when I work 8 hours it’s
fine, but when I work 16, the last thing I want to do is go on a walk
or exercise.  I want to fucking sit on my ass and watch ’80’s movies
and drink beer before sleeping for 10 hours (okay so usually it’s 6).

Even still, this new development in my life, no matter how unwelcome
has let to some rather awesome revelations.  And this is where my
little love affair comes into play.  I’m going to come right out and
say it.  I know all of Northern California (and most of New York) will
groan at the sound of this but here it is.

LOS ANGELES IS THE BEST CITY ON EARTH.   That’s right.  I said it.
Feel free to argue, but you won’t sway my opinion.  Here’s how I came
to that realization.  I walked.  This is the problem.  They’ve even
written a song about it.  No one walks in L.A.  When you get the hell
out of your car long enough, you can see what a supremely awesome city
this is.  I walk 15 minutes in one direction and I’m walking up
Beachwood Canyon, past some of the most beautiful houses I’ve ever
seen…and if I walk another 20 minutes I’m at the base of the hill
that holds the Hollywood Sign.  If I wasn’t afraid of wildlife
(another reason I live in a city…I hate nature), I would/could
trespass on private property and go chill at that Hollywood Sign.  A
little farther down, I can walk up to the Bronson Caves (where George
Lucas filmed some of star wars and where Star Trek would go on a
regular basis…it’s one of those L.A. secrets that everyone knows
about but not a lot of people really go to.)

However, if I walk 15 minutes in the other direction from my house, I
end up on Vermont Street in Los Feliz.  The cutest little shopping
street I’ve seen in a while.  And If I keep walking I’ll hit
silverlake.   Teeming with hipsters and pretentious literati (yes L.A.
has them too)  Silverlake can actually still be a very cool place to
be.

To the north there’s Griffith Park (otherwise known as ‘Seattle’ for
you Grey’s Anatomy fans).

From my office on Hollywood and La Brea I can either walk into West
Hollywood (the gay area…you know I’m at home there.  All the pretty
men, none of which want anything to do with me.  It’s like mecca), or
I can walk up Runyon Canyon, which provides the best view of Los
Angeles in the world.

For those of you who still aren’t convinced.  Here is my offer.  Come
see it through my eyes.  I’ll get you out of the car, I’ll take you
out of the Beverly Center, and we’ll go see the real L.A.  The true
wonderful city, where mountains meet ocean, meet every culture
imaginable.  The offer is on the table.  Give me 2 maybe 3 days, and
I’ll make you love L.A. like I do.

And if you don’t love it, then maybe I’ll buy you a coffee…make it
worth your while.

Peace, love, and smog-loving fun,

Julia