Here in the etherworldly state of Serious Pop Culture Fandom, Internet division, it’s traditional to set impossibly high quality standards and then smite with mighty (and snarky) blows any album/film/novel that isn’t up to snuff. But sometimes you happen upon an artist whose work gnaws away at you, even though you know it’s not all that great — maybe because you can respect the intention behind it, or maybe because you can spot a glimmer of greatness buried in what’s really only a pretty-good vocal. And sometimes you just want to cut an artist some slack.

For me, Mandy Moore is such an artist, and I’ll tell you why: Because she’s making an effort. From humble, frankly questionable origins — she was part of the constellation of starlets plucked out of Orlando, Fla., in the post-Britney-Xtina-Justin-Jessica hysteria of the late ’90s — Mandy has managed to build truly interesting careers in both music and movies. In each field she has evolved from a generic teen star into a mature performer who is as comfortable taking detours as she is with mainstream fluff. (Hey, if she can land a gig playing herself as Vincent Chase’s love-obsession/Aquaman co-star, she’s gotta be doing something right.)

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Ladies and gentlemen, the best music-movie moment of 2007:

Now, don’t get me wrong: I’m not loony enough to think that Music and Lyrics was the best music-related film of the year. Indeed, there’s no real competition on that score: Once was not only the best film that used music to propel its narrative, it was quite simply the best film of the year. Are you listening, Academy?!? Once was the best film of the year!!!

Ahem …

That being said, last Valentine’s Day I got those familiar goosebumps when the screen flickered to life and there was Hugh Grant, getting his Wham! on with Scott Porter as ’80s superstars Pop! The music video for “Pop! Goes My Heart,” which opens Music and Lyrics, is a perfect faux-’80s confection — the hair! the pirate shirts! the keyboards! — and it’s matched by the song, which manages to channel both George Michael’s frothiness and Spandau Ballet’s pretentiousness. (Porter, by the way, gets bonus points just for standing up — his day job is playing paraplegic fallen QB Jason Street on Friday Night Lights.)

When I say “those familiar goosebumps” I’m referring not so much to Grant, or to Wham! for that matter. I’m talking about the excitement that overtakes me when my two favorite obsessions (well — cough — two of the three) come together: movies and the music biz. I’m a complete sucker for a well-told tale about pop musicians and the star-making machinery. In fact, here’s a quick top-ten list of my favorite music-related films, not counting anything released this past year: (more…)

If you were a GenXer coming of age in the 1980s, moviegoing meant heavy doses of Harrison Ford, too much Tom Cruise, an occasional journey into the unhinged eraserhead of David Lynch…and multitudes of Molly Ringwald. John Hughes’ hugely successful teen flicks were hit-and-miss in quality — with the exception of Sixteen Candles and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, they all play better in the memory than they do in real time. Still, without them we might never have grown to loathe the Brat Pack — and Hughes did manage to give some early-career screen time to several young people who went on to more interesting acting careers (John Cusack, Alan Ruck and Gina Gershon, to name a few). (more…)