Chicago celebrated gay pride over the weekend with a parade, a “queer prom,” and enough inordinate self-esteem and alternative lifestyles to choke a Clydesdale. You go, gay people! I absolutely adore what you’ve done with the Bravo network, and your secret invasion of the Republican party these last few years has been faaaaaaabulous! Unfortunately, there was a party pooper in your midst on Saturday afternoon at the corner of Halsted and Addison, a man wearing a sandwich-board sign bearing the slogan PRIDE LEADS TO SHAME. But what does Evelyn “Champagne” King’s “Shame” lead to on my iPod if I press play and then use the shuffle option? “The Fool on the Hill,” by the Beatles.* (I love the shuffle option. It’s the Magic 8-Ball of the 21st century.)

Now, pride is one of the seven deadly sins, and if God would get off His duff and revise His original list, I’m sure He’d add a space for homosexuality at number eight, as fundamentalist Christians have requested via prayer and daytime talk shows for years now. (In a recent e-mail God told me, “Rob, I got paperwork that stretches back to the 1400s — and I’m talking B.C., my friend — so don’t expect any amendments or late additions anytime soon. Also, you should probably get that mole on your neck checked out.” I don’t like when He calls me Rob, but He’s God, so I let it slide. And it’s a skin tag, not a mole.) But until that day it’ll have to remain a nonfatal sin, and if something like a gay pride parade offends you, just call it a “double whammy” parade and see if that suits you better. We’re never going to be able to make everybody get along with everybody else, but as long as we can find nonviolent ways to help each other ignore the people we can’t tolerate, then that should be good enough.

(more…)

Popularity: 4% [?]

“If I had to label myself in some way, I would describe myself as a kind of traditionalist, I suppose, in terms of cinema. Clearly, I’m a victim of the films I saw as a child — which were not so much art films as pop entertainment. I’ve never been a chic director in the sense of art movies, if you will, or an auteur type of director — an innovative director like an Altman, or someone who’s more responsive to the totality, like Francis Coppola. My work is generally in the middle area of popular entertainment — large-budget commercial Hollywood films with stars, which were essentially the kinds of films I saw when I was a kid.”

–Sydney Pollack, from Judith Crist’s Take 22: Moviemakers on Moviemaking (1984)

I was 17 when The Firm came out in the summer of 1993. My girlfriend wanted to see it because she was a Tom Cruise fan and had read the John Grisham novel. I had neither of those things going for me, but I figured director Sydney Pollack’s adaptation might be somewhat entertaining. I was wrong. The Firm was enormously entertaining.

First of all, there’s the cast — sturdy, reliable veterans like Gene Hackman and Hal Holbrook, applying just the right mix of paternal guidance and intimidation to Cruise’s character; Holly Hunter, Ed Harris, and David Strathairn giving funny, memorable supporting performances; Wilford Brimley as a heavy, which is perfect casting in my opinion since the “World’s Scariest Grandpa” coffee mug was made for guys like him; and Gary Busey in a caffeinated five-minute cameo that takes full advantage of his offbeat talent. Pollack plays to his actors’ strengths, even bringing out the best in Cruise by hammering home his character’s no-way-out dilemma. The Firm also boasts a crackerjack score by Dave Grusin, a longtime Pollack collaborator (Three Days of the Condor, Tootsie, Random Hearts), that uses only one instrument — the piano — a rarity in big-budget Hollywood films. Though The Firm is a little too long at two and a half hours (Pollack said in 1995 that he wished he’d had more time to edit it before it was released), the energy of the performances, the music, and Fredric and William Steinkamp’s editing, as well as the changes that Pollack and the film’s writers — David Rabe, Robert Towne, and David Rayfiel — made to Grisham’s story to condense it for the big screen, add up to a terrific suspense thriller.

(more…)

Popularity: 5% [?]

Soft rock. For many people it’s a mellow, relaxing subgenre of pop music. But could it be harmful to your health? Morgan Fairlock has the story …

Popularity: 8% [?]

I saw Iron Man today. It was the first time I’d paid to see a movie at a multiplex in almost eight months, mostly because I haven’t motivated myself to go to any movies since September. As I said a few weeks ago, I used to go on Thursdays when I had that day off from work, but in late September I started working five days a week, and since I don’t like to brave the crowds on weekends, my only option was to see movies on weeknights right after work. Back when I was 20 I could get away with popcorn for dinner every once in a while, but my metabolism is less forgiving these days.

Yesterday afternoon I decided eight months was long enough, so I went to see a movie today. More specifically, I went this morning to a 10:05 showing of Iron Man. Maybe I should’ve gone to church instead, but aren’t superheroes sort of like gods? And isn’t a movie theater sort of like a church? Whenever I do go to church I like to tell my fellow parishioners about my theories during the sermon. They’re too polite to tell me to shut up, face forward, and pay attention, which gives me an opening to remind them how no one in a movie theater ever tells anyone to shut up, face forward, or pay attention either. I don’t think that’s because moviegoers are polite, though — most of us are just used to the extra noise in this day and age, plus we’re not sure which psychos in the audience are harmless and which are on furlough from prison.

(more…)

Popularity: 10% [?]

On Thursday, May 1, Representative Vito Fossella (R-NY) was arrested for drunk driving in Alexandria, Virginia, after running a red light, and was released into the custody of a former Air Force officer named Laura Fay. The New York tabloids started to raise questions about Fossella’s past, which led to the married father of three admitting on May 8 that he is actually a father of four — an affair with Fay, who lives in Alexandria, produced a daughter who’s now three years old.

I … am … shocked! Not because another Republican congressman revealed a damaging secret that could cost him his job — we’ve all seen this rerun before — but because a DWI arrest could force such damaging secrets out into the open so quickly. I mean, everybody’s been arrested for a DWI or three in their lives, right? The cast of ABC’s Lost have racked up at least three dozen all by themselves since 2004. But then, working on a hit show while living in Hawaii would probably drive anyone to drink. The intricacies of the Emmy nomination process alone — madness!

Last week I was arrested for impersonating a police officer while jaywalking. See, I like to take my time crossing the street, even when I’m crossing on a red, but most drivers don’t think I deserve such a luxury. Luckily, I saved my “Village People motorcycle cop” costume from last Halloween, and now I use it to stop traffic whenever I want. (You could argue that the assless chaps that came with the costume are what’s really stopping traffic, but you really should see my hand signals — they’re authoritative yet nonthreatening.) But when I stopped a police funeral procession last Wednesday so I could pick up a quarter in the middle of the road … well, I’m sure you can imagine how well the 37th precinct took it.

My girlfriend, Aimiee (she says it’s a French spelling), bailed me out, and my lawyer/friend Dave-o has agreed to represent me in court or at least pay me $100 if I represent myself and somehow get the charges dropped. But I’m nervous — will all of my dirty secrets become public knowledge once those jackals from the media start cross-referencing my various police reports? I admitted last week that I’m the serial killer who murdered 3,100 record stores over the past five years, but there are other dark corners in my past, and I feel it’s my duty to shine some light on them if I want to stay one step ahead of the media.

(more…)

Popularity: 8% [?]

Late last week news reports began to appear stating that pop diva Mariah Carey had married actor Nick Cannon in a secret, i.e. paparazzi-free, ceremony. My first thought was that her new album, E=MC², must need a sales boost as it enters its second month on the charts. Crass and cynical of me, yes, but I did defend Tom Cruise when he declared his love for Katie Holmes on Oprah back in 2005 by jumping on the talk show host’s couch. (But was it a couch? The picture below makes it look more like Siamese chairs.) I thought it was a genuine, if shame-free, show of affection, not a publicity stunt to promote Cruise and Holmes’s upcoming summer blockbusters (War of the Worlds and Batman Begins, respectively).

Last Friday Cruise was interviewed on Oprah for the first time since ‘05. One news item about his appearance mentioned that PR experts had analyzed the interview and determined that he came across as “serious” and “thoughtful,” i.e. not communicating with a miniature version of L. Ron Hubbard that floats above his left shoulder. Tom, one of my goals since I was a young boy has been to win the respect and complimentary fruit baskets of PR experts all across this great nation of ours. You’ve set a fine example for me, and I’ll do what I can to add to your legacy.

I’m also one of the few people I know who defends Cruise’s heterosexuality. Since 1996 I’ve written hundreds of letters to the toothy megastar requesting a romantic dinner date, and I’ve never gotten a single response. Disappointed, gossip hounds?! Move along … nothin’ to see here. As for Mariah Carey’s potential publicity stunt, she has good reason to marry a guy 11 years her junior just to sell more copies of her new album, because music retail ain’t what it used to be. Do what you have to do, Mariah. No pressure, but the fate of the compact disc is in your hands.

(more…)

Popularity: 8% [?]

Last Thursday actor Wesley Snipes (U.S. Marshals, Undisputed) was sentenced to three years in prison after being found guilty in February of three misdemeanor counts for willfully failing to file his tax returns from 1999 to 2001. Snipes and his lawyers had hoped he could avoid prison time, even if he ends up doing that time at a minimum-security “Club Fed”-style prison camp, and went so far as to present three checks totaling $5 million to Judge William Terrell Hodges at the sentencing hearing. Judge Hodges said he didn’t have the authority to accept the checks, and the prosecution wouldn’t accept them either. Was anyone in the courtroom bold enough to cash Blade’s checks? Suddenly, a kindly IRS employee stepped up and said he’d give them a good home at the Treasury Department. Crisis averted.

Snipes’s legal team also presented the court with letters from his family and friends, including former costars Woody Harrelson (White Men Can’t Jump) and Denzel Washington (Mo’ Better Blues), in the hopes that their defense of Snipes’s character could influence Judge Hodges’s decision. Thanks to a friend of mine who works for Homeland Security and owes me a favor, I’ve obtained the transcript of the wiretapped conversation between Snipes and Washington that led to the writing of the two-time Oscar winner’s letter.

DENZEL: (picks up phone) Hello?

WESLEY: Denzel? Hey, this is Wesley.

DENZEL: (pause) Clark?

WESLEY: No. Snipes. Wesley Snipes.

DENZEL: Oh! Wes! Sorry, the reception was bad for a second there, so you sounded like a former military hero who made a failed run at the White House four years ago.

WESLEY: Yeah, I get that a lot. Listen, Denzel, the reason I’m calling is because I’d like to ask you for a favor.

DENZEL: Sure, what do you need? Bruckheimer’s home number? I think I’ve got it right here. Yep, here it is. You got a pen? It’s—

WESLEY: Thanks, but I actually need a bigger favor than that.

DENZEL: Alright. Name it.

WESLEY: Well, as you know, that jury in Florida found me guilty of not filing my taxes for a few years.

DENZEL: You call six years “a few”?

WESLEY: I know, okay? Geeez! Seriously, don’t start, alright?

(more…)

Popularity: 9% [?]

I didn’t mean to take a three-week vacation from writing Sugar Water, but here I am with my first post for the month of April, which is already on its way out the door. But did you see that interview I did earlier this month? And those record reviews? And that Chart Attack! I wrote while Jason Hare’s in detox (again)? Those things didn’t write themselves, you know. (Or at least that’s what the computer program that actually did write them told me over and over again, but then I reminded the computer program that it doesn’t have emotions and shouldn’t be complaining.) I was also out of town last weekend, and I was in detox myself the weekend before that, but not because I have a drinking problem like Jason does — my problem is that I swallowed some toxic waste (again).

I also did my part for Record Store Day yesterday by going to Laurie’s Planet of Sound in Chicago and buying Office’s A Night at the Ritz and David Cross’s It’s Not Funny on CD. Then I set fire to an Apple Store to kill all the Apple computers that have iTunes on them, because iTunes is killing record stores. You should’ve heard those computers cry out in pain — until I reminded them they can’t feel pain. Anyway, Sugar Water had to be put on hold for a while.

Two weekends ago I went AWOL from detox for a few hours to attend a screening of the documentary Movin’ On Up: The Music and Message of Curtis Mayfield and the Impressions at the Chicago Cultural Center. Movin’ On Up will be released on DVD next month by Reelin’ in the Years Productions, which specializes in music documentaries that include full, uninterrupted performances, either from decades-old concerts or TV shows, by the artist or artists who are being profiled. Movin’ On Up is worth seeing if you’re a Mayfield fan, though it would’ve been nice to see more archival interview footage of Mayfield, who died in 1999, talking about his songs.

Before I attended this screening of Movin’ On Up, the last movie I’d seen in a theater was David Cronenberg’s Eastern Promises, way back in September. I used to have Thursdays off from work, which is when I would usually see movies, but my schedule changed at the end of September, and I’m a little too claustrophobic and agoraphobic to brave the local cinemas on weekends, plus I can hear everything that every single person in the theater is saying. If there’s a pill I can take to turn down the volume of those voices for two hours, let me know.

(more…)

Popularity: 10% [?]

Last week I discovered that David Caruso has more fans than I could’ve ever imagined. To borrow a phrase from a recent episode of his hit show, CSI: Miami, he’s a huge “cyber-lebrity.” Caruso also attracts his share of non-fans who think he’s a bad actor, but they seem more interested in his string of ex-girlfriends and ex-wives and his past struggles with alcoholism.

I regret mentioning in last week’s post how the actor’s appearance has changed noticeably over the past few seasons of CSI: Miami and then guessing that it’s because he’s in his 50s now; I was merely making an observation about Caruso looking different as his character, Horatio Caine, has become more peculiar. Rob McKenzie of Canada’s National Post said last August that Horatio has “a dash of the supernatural,” and thanks to one of the people who left a comment last week, I found the New York Post’s recent Page Six gossip item about Caruso, in which a CSI: Miami “insider” said that Caruso “once asked the director of photography to make it seem like he was flying to the crime scene, explaining that Horatio is actually a mythical superhero. For real.”

I realize that’s supposed to make Caruso sound like a nut job, but to me, it just reinforces that he “gets” what the show is these days — a live-action cartoon with candy-colored cinematography and a lead character who wears the same dark suit and sunglasses week after week much like a comic-book character would. (I did see a second-season episode the other night on A&E in which Horatio was wearing an olive-green suit and didn’t put on his sunglasses once during the last 20 minutes. CSI: Miami hadn’t become a cartoon yet, and although Horatio was already addressing suspects while standing at a 90-degree angle, he did eventually turn toward them and make eye contact for more than 1.4 seconds.) You could also call his performance self-parody: Caruso gets the last laugh at his own joke, but like I said last week, the joke can wear thin since I know he’s capable of much more as an actor, which is one reason why CSI: Miami is just empty calories. Still, I can’t look away when he’s playing his superhero robot ghost cop.

I also regret mentioning last week that I know someone whose brother appeared on the show, an actor who said there may be “some undiagnosed madness in Caruso’s method.” I couldn’t resist the play on words of “method in his madness, madness in his method,” okay? I love the intricacies of the English language, just like William Shakespeare or the writers of CSI: Miami.

And since I said “It’s just that his face seemed to fall so freakin’ fast” in a reply to a reader’s comment and that reply was then used in an anti-Castro — sorry, anti-Caruso (Miami … Cuba … it’s easy to get confused) — blogger’s own post, may something similar happen to my timeless beauty. In fact, I’ll offer up a curse myself: may all my hair fall out by the time I’m 35. Oh, wait, that already happened. Okay, here’s an alternate curse: may all my back hair fall out by the time I’m 35. That seems fair.

It is a cheap thrill, though, to be quoted out of context on someone’s all-Caruso-all- the-time blog (especially when the blogger leaves out completely irrelevant sentences like “Then again, ain’t we all a little crazy?”), so I’d like to see if I can make it happen again. Caruso player-haters, please take the following bait:

It may seem like DAVID CARUSO’S life is fabulous these days, but let’s FACE facts: LOOKS can be deceiving, and life can very easily get REALLY REALLY BAD.

Now, find the key words in that quote and string them together on your blog. Don’t you love receiving free content this way? It’s win-win all around!

(more…)

Popularity: 11% [?]

CSI: Miami, now in its sixth season, returns with a new episode Monday night, the first one completed since the writers’ strike ended in February. CBS’s top-rated crime drama is the most popular TV show in the world according to international ratings, just as Baywatch was the world’s most popular show in the ’90s. (Here in the U.S., A&E leans on the syndicated reruns pretty hard, showing nine-hour marathons every Wednesday.) The two shows have their similarities: beachfront locales, lots of sun, pretty girls and muscular guys, and murder-mystery storylines for those who aren’t interested in the eye candy. But while Baywatch had beefcake mannequin David Hasselhoff as its lead actor, CSI: Miami has David Caruso, whose performance makes the show endlessly watchable. (Of course, Bruce Fretts of TV Guide said in January that Caruso is “rapidly turning into the new Hasselhoff.” Please, Bruce, don’t piss all over my thesis just yet, okay?)

I’m not trying to argue that there are hidden depths to the carrot-topped actor’s portrayal of Horatio Caine, the police detective who heads up the Miami-Dade County police department’s forensics team, but I am defending the method in his madness. (According to someone I know whose brother has appeared on the show in a guest-starring role, there may actually be some undiagnosed madness in Caruso’s method. Then again, ain’t we all a little crazy?) Many people think Caruso’s a terrible actor, which just isn’t so. Instead, he’s a good actor who’s gotten lazy, although I do think he’s keeping himself entertained as he goes through the motions week after week. He could still turn in a solid performance if he wanted to, but for now he’s content to deliver his stone-faced one-liners and throw a bunch of quirks into his role as “H,” like positioning his body at a 90-degree angle in relation to another character and only turning his head to address him or her, and adding lots of odd pauses into his dialogue, possibly as an homage to one of his idols, Christopher Walken, or, as a friend of mine has theorized, because he can only memorize five words of dialogue at a time and then has to look off-camera to locate the next cue card. Caruso’s character isn’t like any of the others on CSI: Miami, which helps set him and the show apart, but he’s so different that he almost seems like he’s on another show altogether.

(more…)

Popularity: 17% [?]