So It Goes: Still Blogging

It’s August 28.

I started this blog post just after midnight on August 11. At the time I was on the last bus to New Jersey after seeing Blue Jasmine. I’m was and still am completely obsessed with Cate Blanchett’s performance. She’s getting another Oscar. But that’s not the point of this post. In fact I’m not really sure where I’m going with this. Bear with me. Continue reading “So It Goes: Still Blogging”

The Realities Of Being A Film Actress

The Heat
Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy are both over 40 and big movie stars. Just don’t ask them to try and sell a magazine cover.

Hollywood actresses are at a strange crossroads. Or that is what two articles published in the last week would lead one to believe. The first “On Newsstands, The Allure of the Film Actress Fades” (New York Times, June 5) focuses on how film actresses cannot compete with the likes of the Kardashians and thus cannot sell magazines. The second, “Revenge of The Over-40 Actress” (The Hollywood Reporter, June 14) suggests that actresses over the age of 40 are in the midst of career boom. Here are the main points we can take away from these articles.

  • Movie stars are less revered.
  • Magazine covers with films stars are not guaranteed to outsell those with TV or music stars.
  • Movies don’t appeal to women.
  • The film audience is aging.
  • Television is in the midst of a boom.
  • Actresses who were A-list as 30-somethings are still A-list as 40-somethings..
  • Women over 40 are no longer expected to look matronly.
  • A TV role can nurture and enhance an actress’s career.
  • Melissa McCarthy’s career success at age 40 is something to marvel at.
  • Angelina Jolie is more than a film star. Continue reading “The Realities Of Being A Film Actress”

The Day After


My father and I went for a walk today. I had to go to the post office and the bank; he wanted to leave the house. So we walked and as we walked, we talked about simple things: the weather, gas prices, potholes, a neighbor’s magnolia tree. He told me not to waste money on a cup of coffee; he would make some when we returned home. The conversation became even more mundane when we entered Walgreens and he made a passing comment about how he should avoid the candy aisle.  And then we walked home.

It was a perfect walk.

My father is a character. I frequently make fun of him, his non-sequiturs, and his inexplicable love for Notting Hill on this blog. But I do it out of love and respect. Every so often, I’m reminded how the things I have come to appreciate about my father, the things I didn’t appreciate about him until after he retired and I moved back home, could very easily not exist.

Days like yesterday, when the city I used to call home is devastated by the first act of terrorism in the US since 9/11.  After checking in with my sister and friends, my only reaction was to observe my father as he watched the news coverage. I was reminded of being 12-years-old, sitting in the same TV room, watching the news coverage on 9/11 and waiting for my dad to call. This is a strange memory I constantly live with. It’s an uncanny feeling and one that I’ll never fully grasp.

The experience of observing a terrorist attack from a distance is equally profound. When bombs go off in cities overseas – it doesn’t matter whether it is in Kabul or London – there is a false sense of security.  We tell ourselves that because the attacks are happening over there and not here, we are safe. Because there hadn’t been a domestic terrorist attack since 9/11, we were safe. I sometimes think that since I experienced a terrorist attack in one of the worst imaginable ways, nothing else can happen to me. This is my own futile, self-preservation tactic.

But with Boston it is different. The city has been one of my second homes.  I escape there as often as I can. My sister and many of my friends live there. Family and friends have run in the Boston Marathon.

There is also the fact that I am now old enough to process and understand this attack. Unlike 9/11, which forced me to realize that the world existed beyond my self-involved pre-teen self, I can see a bigger picture.

So I’m met with an overwhelming numbness, a sense that “Okay this happened. Now what?” I’ll be supportive when I need to be. I’ll follow the news. Maybe I’ll be more observant of a stranger’s behavior when I’m in public. But mostly I’ll just go about my day.

My father and I won’t discuss what happened in Boston yesterday. We don’t need to. When something of that magnitude happens, there is an understanding that once the initial shock wears off we are to continue with our lives. We don’t analyze the event and we don’t watch the news. Tomorrow my dad will give a tour of the National September 11 Memorial as he does every week and I will go to work as I do every day.

And I’ll continue to cherish the simple act of going to Walgreens with my father as he debates what mouthwash to buy. (He always picks the discounted store brand.) I know all too well how it couldn’t be happening like this.

“We’re Going Home With Jodie Foster”: Quick Thoughts on The Golden Globes

As someone who consumes pop culture as if my life depends on it, there is always something to snark about after every awards show. But something remarkable happened during and after the Golden Globes last night: I was left with nothing to complain about. (Well, I could go on a rant about Argo but I won’t bore you with that.)  When the Golden Globes ended last night, I immediately reached the conclusion that it had been the most feminist awards show I had ever seen. Here’s why.  Continue reading ““We’re Going Home With Jodie Foster”: Quick Thoughts on The Golden Globes”

Movies That Make Me Irrationally Angry: Les Misérables

I dreamed a dream that I don't want this to happen.
I dreamed a dream that I will hate this movie.

Okay. I have a dilemma. Since October, I have been struggling (struggling) to write about Les Misérables. This post has gone through multiple drafts. First, I attempted to mock the character posters, which are awful. Then I called it “My Inability to Give Two Shits About Les Mis,” which fell through because obviously I do give a shit. Now I’m hoping to write this post without seeming like a bitter bitch who hates Anne Hathaway, which is an easy trap that some people apparently fall into. (Hating someone’s face is an absurd reason to dislike an actor/actress. But I digress.)

So why does everything associated with Les Misérables make me irrationally angry? I honestly don’t know. We are in the middle of the full Les Miserables publicity onslaught. Red carpets, talk show appearances, magazine covers, everything. All of this has me convinced that Les Mis will be a massive disappointment. This is really bothering me.

Let me go down my list of grievances and maybe work through my issues. Continue reading “Movies That Make Me Irrationally Angry: Les Misérables”