Why Is Understanding Mandatory?

Over the last few days—against my own better judgment—I've engaged others on a few friends' Facebook timelines on the subject of Trump's transgender ban earlier this week. To say that some of the responses I've gotten are disheartening is an understatement. So much fear (which leads to hatred) of that which we don't understand.

When cornered by logic, some of these respondents went radio silent, others lashed out with that underlying transphobia you knew was there the whole time bubbling under the surface. Some finally acquiesced in frustration to just "not getting the whole thing." And here's the thing: Why do we have to understand something to exhibit kindness and human decency?

I'll readily admit that I don't understand every facet of transgenderism. That's largely because I am not transgender and have therefore not experienced what it feels like to have a gender identity or gender expression that differs from my biologically assigned sex. I likely don't always get the preferred idioms correct or readily identify with every nuance of the transgender experience. But I try to learn by interacting with trans men and women, by reading more on the subject, by listening to the experiences of others. And still I don't understand every aspect of someone who is transgender.

But I don't have to. I can still choose—and make no mistake, it is a choice—to be compassionate and kind and to consider the totality of the individual with no judgement or malice. If I feel uncomfortable with some aspect of someone's gender identity or expression, that discomfort is mine and mine alone. It's based on some deep-seeded bias within me and has nothing to do with the other person. I try to push myself through that discomfort or aspect I don't understand and try to expand my mind...to try to figure out the reasons and origins of that discomfort. What I don't do is make a trans man or woman feel less than because of any shortcoming of mine. That's cowardly and morally wrong.

All human beings deserve to be loved and to be able to express love. They deserve to be treated with kindness and respect— what we've come to know as basic human decency. I may never know or fully understand what it feels like to be born into the wrong body, but I can treat people who do with empathy and compassion. It takes nothing away from me to do so. I subscribe to the philosophy of inclusive humanism, which embraces the idea that all human beings matter and deserve equal respect and dignity, regardless of geographical region, age, achievement, ability, appearance, ethnicity, religious beliefs, nonreligious beliefs, sex, sexual orientation, or gender.

This is not rocket science, folks. People are different. Some of those differences will be easy to understand and accept; others may prove more difficult based on our biases and preconceptions. Work through them...or at least try to. There are no pitfalls to doing so and an expanded world and worldview are among the many benefits.

Top Albums of 2015

Another year of great music has passed, and 2015 was a banner year for this consummate mélomane. My annual year-end list of favorite albums (15 for '15) is once again dominated by women, but three solo male artists, one band, and even a "various artists" compilation crept in this year. So, without further delay, following is my list of the best albums of 2015 in descending order from #15 to my #1 pick (which will be a surprise to no one).

#15 – Various Artists / 80’S RE:COVERED

Ok, I’ll admit it. This one’s an odd choice to kick off my annual list of favorite albums. A compilation album…of covers…by 80’s artists? But, yes, it’s just that good. If names like Curiosity Killed the Cat, or Johnny Hates Jazz, or ABC, or Go West, or Wang Chung bring back great memories of zipper shirts and parachute pants and binge-watching MTV (like, when the network used to play music videos 24/7), then this album is your nostalgic wet dream come true. The concept is simple: 80’s artists—with their original production teams—covering their favorite songs from any other era…in their distinctive 80’s style. Fun, huh? Oh, it’s lots of fun to hear Samantha Fox take on Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls” or Heaven 17’s version of Elton John’s “Rocket Man” or Kim Wilde’s take on The Captain and Tennille’s “Love Will Keep Us Together”. It’s a glorious throwback and contemporary treat at the same time to hear Belinda Carlisle cover Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” and Kim Carnes take on The Rolling Stones classic “Under My Thumb”, while Go West goes modern with its take on The Killers’ “Human” and ABC covers Radiohead’s “High & Dry”. Making this albums of covers even more eighties-tastic is that following the dozen newly-recorded covers are twelve remixes of the same songs!

80’S RE:COVERED is, like, totally tubular…to the max! Pop it in your Walkman and listen to it while you work on your Rubik’s Cube.

#14 – Hurts / SURRENDER

Three albums in and you’ve likely never heard of English synthpop duo Hurts – and that’s a shame. Despite the fact that singer Theo Hutchcraft and synthesist Adam Anderson had top ten success with their first two albums – HAPPINESS and EXILE – in their native United Kingdom (as well as Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Poland, and Finland), the duo’s closest thing to a US connection was a gig supporting Scissor Sisters on their UK arena tour in late 2010. On their third album, SURRENDER, Hutchcraft and Anderson craft a set of hooky and infectious pop songs with a distinctive, synthetic orchestra sound. The result is a euphoric collection that calls to mind the highly-stylized aesthetic of 80s artists like Johnny Hates Jazz, Go West, and – on slower moments – Swing Out Sister. 

#13 – Kelly Clarkson / PIECE BY PIECE

Terrible cover notwithstanding, Kelly Clarkson's PIECE BY PIECE is a first-rate pop-rock collection and solid addition to her growing catalog. While highlights for me include the decidedly 80's retro vibe of "Nostalgic" and "Good Goes the Bye", the sassy soul of "Bad Reputation", and the Sia-penned bombast of "Invincible", the standout here is "Run Run Run" with John Legend. On the first half of the latter, the production is stripped way down with Clarkson's award-winning pipes taking center stage accompanied only by Legend on piano, reminding us of why she was able to rise above her televised singing competition roots to the rank of a true artist.

#12 – Adam Lambert / THE ORIGINAL HIGH

The one-time AMERICAN IDOL runner-up continues his career winning streak with this third album, his first under the Warner Bros Records banner after parting ways with original label RCA (reportedly over creative differences after Lambert balked at the label’s insistence on him recording an album of 80’s covers). Longtime fans will relish the glam-rock theatrics and booming vocals that remain intact here, while appreciating that the extravagance and excess of previous efforts have been markedly toned down in the capable hands of Swedish producers Max Martin and Shellback. On the sets softer moments, Lambert croons longingly about sex, drugs, and James Dean, suggesting that he’s capable of slipping on the same hazy Hollywood summer-tinted sunglasses as Lana Del Rey. But, ultimately, Lambert is a house diva at heart – and his producers know it judging from the throbbing basslines of standouts like “Evil in the Night”, “The Light”, and the title track. The album’s best – and most unexpectedly satisfying – moments come when he blends his penchant for carrying a rhythmic thumper with some restrained sultriness, as evidenced on “Underground” and the deluxe edition bonus track “After Hours”.

 #11 – Madonna / REBEL HEART

Madonna proved (once again) that rumors of her cultural irrelevance were grossly exaggerated with her (lucky) thirteenth studio album. Using “Living For Love” as the bridge to leave the cold EDM sound of the HARD CANDY and MDNA era behind, the music icon wisely grounded REBEL HEART in a decidedly more pop-oriented landscape and the results are nothing short of dazzling. There’s a surprising delicacy at play here reminiscent of her softer BEDTIME STORIES days on tracks like “HeartBreakCity”, “Joan of Arc”, and the stunning “Ghosttown” (easily her best track in a decade).  The album seems divided thematically between Madonna’s softer and more rebellious sides and the stark juxtaposition works surprisingly well despite all the hands in the production pot here. Framed by simple folk guitars and churchy piano strains, the melodious “heart” tracks contrast sharply with the contemporary electro grooves of “rebel” tracks like “Best Night”, “Holy Water”, and “Inside Out”. Mixed in for good measure—and harkening back even further into the Madonna catalog—are the bubblegum levity of “Body Shop” and the reggae beat of the No Doubt-ish “Unapologetic Bitch”. The title track is the most revelatory—and possibly most authentically biographical—glimpse into the real Madonna we’ve ever had, with her singing clearly and confidently with unabashed nostalgia about the price she’s paid for her non-conformity.

A few missteps like groaners “Bitch I’m Madonna” and the unlistenable “Illuminati” kept this one just shy of my year-end Top-Ten but it’s in no way a snub. With REBEL HEART, Madonna proves that she’s a pop artisan of the highest caliber who delivers her most satisfying music when she focuses on structured pop arrangements. She seems to have finally learned that her continued relevancy will come from remaining true to her genuine artistic self instead of importing trendy chart styles from hot production teams.

#10 – Grace Potter / MIDNIGHT

Relegating bandmates The Nocturnals to the sidelines for her first solo outing, Grace Potter impresses with this slick pop-rock collection. Having proven herself as the dynamic lead singer of the aforementioned rock-soul outfit, Potter belts and struts with gleeful abandon on this terrifically fun set of smart, rhythmic AOR confections. Wisely, producer Eric (Queens of the Stone Age) Valentine keeps Potter's powerhouse vocals central against the musically eclectic palette he creates for her. Even amidst the overblown propulsive percussion and New Wave funk, Potter still manages to howl and growl with a gritty rawness that should keep fans of the Americana authenticity of her work with The Nocturnals happy. While highlights include “Hot to the Touch”, “Alive Tonight”, and “Delirious”, the standout track here is the uber-funky “Your Girl”.

#9 – Jess Glynne / I CRY WHEN I LAUGH

You’ve likely first heard this English powerhouse fronting Clean Bandit’s international hit “Rather Be” (included here for good measure) last year and—if justice prevails—you’ll be hearing a lot more of her in the coming year. Stepping out into her own with this relentlessly uplifting debut, Jess Glynne seems poised for stardom with this piano-centered collection of musical optimism. There’s a decidedly happy, gospel-like feel throughout I CRY WHEN I LAUGH with tambourine-shaking, hand-clapping, and backing choirs packed into each song, most of which fall thematically into the idea of one’s inner strength overcoming tribulation. Glynne’s husky alto is nicely contrasted against the effervescent disco strings and jaunty piano riffs on the majority of the songs, while the Adele comparisons are inevitable on the slower tracks like “Take Me Home” and the acoustic “My Love”. Standouts include the ebullient “Don’t Be So Hard On Yourself”, bouncy “Hold My Hand”, house-thumping “You Can Find Me”, and the so-sappy-but-somehow-it-works ballad “Saddest Vanilla”, in which she and duet partner Emeli Sandé play two women whose hearts get broken in an ice cream parlor.

# 8 – Rob Thomas / THE GREAT UNKNOWN

The consummate pop-rock craftsman returns with a third solo outing and he comes bringing hooks aplenty. From swelling, insistent anthems to contemplative power ballads, Thomas delivers a cohesive set of toe-tapping, head-bobbing AOR guaranteed to have you singing all the way to work and back again. Thomas excels at that middle-of-the-road classic pop formula, from the catchy hooks to the universal lyrics, all wrapped up in a slick and well-polished production. It’s ear candy through and through, with a sincerity and familiarity that’s the equivalent of musical comfort food. And no one does it better than Thomas, his vocals always strong and clear, emoting and emphasizing on all the right notes. Highlights from THE GREAT UNKNOWN include his gorgeous duet with new vocalist Rooty on “Paper Dolls”, the disco pulse of "Things You Said", the electronic horn stabs of “Absence of Affection”, and the jaunty midtempo rocker “Not Like You Told Me”.

 

#7 – Lana Del Rey / HONEYMOON

Wistful catatonia reigns supreme on Lana Del Rey’s sublime third album. This first-rate set remains awash in the moody musical equivalent of film noir that captured fans’ hearts on the songstress’s first two efforts, with tortured lyrics, melancholy string arrangements, and Del Rey’s now-trademark slurred vocals ably setting a mood of faded glamour and unhappy Hollywood endings. Gorgeously languorous, HONEYMOON seemingly combines the worlds of Del Rey’s BORN TO DIE and ULTRAVIOLENCE to create a hybrid world where the musically murky soundscape is best heard through a dreamy, auditory gauze. Whether she’s reciting a specifically abstract passage from T.S. Eliot’s poem “Burnt Norton” over a sparse, science fiction-like score during the interlude to “Religion” or covering Nina Simone’s “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” to avant-garde perfection, Del Rey is taking chances here on HONEYMOON unseen on earlier efforts. That those musical gambles are so subtle as to be easily missed by the casual fan is what makes them feel like rewards for our loyalty to the hardcore fatalist femme fatale. An excruciatingly exquisite addition to the gloomy chanteuse’s growing songbook. Highlights include: “Music To Watch Boys To”, “High By the Beach”, “Freak”, and “24”.

#6 – Jimmy Somerville / HOMAGE

Somerville has never sounded better vocally or more in his element musically than he does on HOMAGE, an unabashedly ebullient collection of pure old school disco goodness that feels completely authentic but never outdated. Worth digging out the bell bottoms and platform shoes for such highlights as "Back to Me", "Lights Are Shining", and "This Hand". Easily gives Jess Glynne’s I CRY WHEN I LAUGH a run for the most shamelessly happy album of 2015.

#5 – Seinabo Sey / PRETEND

If Mary J. Blige and 80’s Brit-soul ensemble Soul-2-Soul had a lovechild, her name would be Seinabo Sey. PRETEND is a genre-defying debut, an enticing fusion of transatlantic pop, soul, and EDM that reflects the singer’s Swedish and Gambian heritage. Drawing from her dual musical roots (her late father was the renowned Gambian musician Maudo Sey), the 25-year-old singer and songwriter creates an evocative sound that’s wholly and uniquely her own—no small feat in the crowded and highly imitative pop landscape of today. Combining deeply introspective lyrics with ambitious, pop-friendly arrangements (courtesy of Magnus Lidehäll, who’s done work with Madonna, Kylie Minogue, and Britney Spears), PRETEND is an eclectic collection drawing from a grab-bag of influences and adorned with trip-hop beats, EDM and Afropop flourishes, and ghostly choruses. It’s simultaneously soulfully accessible and dramatically boundary-pushing. Sey retains marvelous control of whatever musical background she’s placed up against, demonstrating an enviable versatility and ease singing everything from stomping gospel-tinged anthems to sweeping piano ballads alike. This album (and artist) are true discoveries meant to be savored in their entirety. Highlights for me include the poetically soaring “Burial”, Sey’s musical response to the death of her father in 2013, the percolating title track with its killer bass-like synthesizer punches, “Poetic”, the somber “Sorry”, and the dizzying musical frenzy of “Words”. Oh, hell…they’re all standouts. Devour this one whole.

#4 – Andra Day / CHEERS TO THE FALL

Looks like we’ve found the missing link between Adele and Amy Winehouse in this 30-year-old San Diego native and one-time Stevie Wonder discovery. On her sterling debut, CHEERS TO THE FALL, Day’s jazz-trained vocals wrap effortlessly around soulful pop melodies and the result is downright intoxicating. Although the effect is akin to being transported back to a smoky, 1950’s cabaret with the raspy-voiced, pompadour-coiffed Day wearing her influences – namely, Nina Simone, Billie Holiday and Etta James – proudly, her sound is awash in nostalgia without ever feeling dated. NPR’s Katie Presley aptly characterizes the juxtaposition: “[Day] cultivates an aesthetic with clear reference points in the past, but she tells stories firmly rooted in her present. It's a jarring and compelling combination.”

Indeed it is. This is the one debut of 2015 that must not be missed.

#3 – Brandon Flowers / THE DESIRED EFFECT

The Killers’ frontman once again proves he may have come to musical prominence in the wrong decade, wearing his 80’s influences proudly on his artistic sleeve on this second solo album. THE DESIRED EFFECT is a masterclass in that era’s wonky production artifices and lyrical heavy-handedness – and it suits Flowers to perfection. Most impressive, for all the album’s chugging piano lines, orchestra hits, hand-clap snares, and New Wave synth-disco flourishes – all musically equated with the signature sound of a past decade – Flowers and producer Ariel (Haim, Charli XCX) Rechtshaid make it sound contemporarily relevant and authentic. Lyrically, Flowers is still all Springsteen-esque wanderlust, shift work, open highways, and small-town imprisonment, a theme hammered home when he generously samples Bronski Beat’s classic SMALLTOWN BOY (which, if it didn’t sound 80s enough, includes a brief spoken-word cameo by Neil Tenant of Pet Shop Boys) on the standout track “I Can Change”. THE DESIRED EFFECT is lyrical earnestness intersecting with production grandiosity, and the result is an entirely organic sound in which the charismatic, eternally-optimistic Flowers has never sounded more in his element. Highlights: “Can’t Deny My Love”, “Lonely Town”, and the rollicking “Diggin’ Up the Heart”.

#2 – Melanie Martinez / CRY BABY

Generally not a fan of the concept album, but Long Island native Melanie Martinez's brilliant CRY BABY is an easy exception. Loaded with childhood metaphors and similes, this bitingly insightful, surrealistic musical fairy tale plays like a maniacally macabre children's storybook. Martinez is a mesmerizing blend of Lana Del Rey and Lorde, and her debut collection of songs set against a pastel-Goth backdrop of growing up amidst familial turmoil makes it one of the best alt-pop bows in recent memory. Musical incisors for the brain. Color me officially infatuated with Ms. Martinez.

#1 – Adele / 25

Adele’s career pause may have seemed interminable but as her much-anticipated new album proved, good things come to those who wait…and wait. And then wait some more. Luckily, the intervening years between her juggernaut 21 and the new (juggernaut-ier) 25 have been kind to Adele. Her magnificent voice actually improved following that nail-biting laser microsurgery on her throat in 2011, adding four additional notes to the top of her mezzo-soprano vocal range. On 25, she cements her reputation as a musical old soul, with songwriting and vocals that belie her age (now 27). All the pathos that defined 21 remains intact with plenty of nostalgic piano-bar ruminations to accompany almost anyone’s future break-up or life’s regret. While the smash “Hello” has already inspired countless cover versions, among the album’s other highlights are the jubilantly syncopated gallop of “Water Under the Bridge” and the soulful Danger Mouse collaboration “River Lea”. Adele remains one of the few contemporary vocalists whose voice can elicit actual emotion from recipient ears, as future tear-jerking classics like “When We Were Young” or “Million Years Ago” or “All I Ask” prove. Welcome back, Adele. We’ll likely be celebrating your return through 2016 and beyond.

Women in Hollywood: Clear Skies and Good Visibility

Ladies, start your engines. I’m calling bullshit on the myth that Hollywood discards women of a certain age – namely, the forty-plus set. Internet obsession over Renée Zellweger’s recent red carpet appearance and the endless dissection of her did-she-or-didn’t-she cosmetic surgery choices have dragged up another well-worn hot topic: The purported invisibility of women over 40 in Hollywood. What was once an upwardly trending reality is now nothing more than a myth used – both conveniently and erroneously – in bigger (and more important) discussions on feminist topics.  

It’s an easy fallback for folks to trot out the same old adage about women over 40 in Hollywood being dead, invisible, or [insert your own adjective here] in our (largely) ageist society. But it’s an assertion with little evidence to back it up these days and an old, misleading headline that needs to be retired.

In fact, the opposite is true. Women of a certain age aren't merely enjoying greater visibility on the screen – they’re dominating the field. What’s even better is that these demographic-defying actors come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and ethnicities. Some come au naturel with their marvelous character-defining lines and wrinkles intact, others nipped and tucked and plumped to varying degrees. But they’re here and ever-present – not some forgotten castoffs relegated to background scenes. These women are proving that they've got the acting chops and audience appeal to carry their own shows, and even those in supporting roles are increasingly being elevated with juicy material that renders them veritable scene stealers, in comedic and dramatic arenas alike.  

In ten minutes of free association, I was able to compile the following list of over seventy-five actresses, age 40 and above,  who are currently either headlining or featured as series regulars on TV shows within the past season or two: Juliana Margulies, Téa Leoni, Jessica Lange, Viola Davis, Kathy Bates, Jane Lynch, Bebe Neuwirth, Christine Baranski, Halle Berry, Linda Gray, Vera Farmiga, Margo Martindale, Octavia Spencer, Laurie Metcalf (headlining two shows), Judith Light, Susan Sullivan, Angela Bassett, CCH Pounder, Frances Conroy, Mariska Hartigay, Madeline Stowe, Julia Ormond, Gillian Anderson, Heather Locklear, Dame Maggie Smith, Famke Jensen, Melissa McCarthy, Swoosie Kurtz, Toni Collette, Tina Fey, Debra Messing, Alison Janney, Madeline Stowe, Wendi McLendon-Covey,  Jackie Weaver, Edie Falco, Holland Taylor, Robin Wright, Laura Linney, Laura Dern, Amy Brenneman, Betty White, Valerie Bertinelli, Fran Drescher, Jane Leeves, Wendie Malick, Connie Britton, Kate Burton, Bellamy Young, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Katey Sagal, Anna Gunn, Elizabeth McGovern, Linda Hunt, Jessica Walter, Patricia Heaton, Courtney Cox, Laura Leighton, Elisabeth Shue, Frances Fisher, Joan Cusack, Ann Dowd, Sherry Stringfield, Sophia Vergara, Julie Bowen, Susan Lucci, Rebecca Wisocky, Roselyn Sanchez, Mary McDonnell, Jada Pinkett-Smith, Stockard Channing, Marcia Gay Harden, Carrie Preston, Virginia Madsen, Mädchen Amick, Nancy Travis, Kate Walsh, Andrea Parker, Dee Wallace, Conchata Ferrell, Courtney Thorne-Smith , and Mimi Kennedy, with Alfre Woodard, Melissa Leo, and Carla Gugino slated to soon join them. And this was without trying; there are likely more.

Even vets like Shirley MacLaine, Linda Lavin, Jamie Lee Curtis, Tyne Daly, Dame Diana Rigg, Lili Taylor, Megan Mullally, Elizabeth Perkins, Margaret Colin, Veronica Cartwright, Mare Winningham, June Squibb, Carol Kane, Rita Moreno, Shohreh Aghdashloo, Morgan Fairchild, Patricia Kalember, Gail O’Grady, and the late Elizabeth Peña have shown up recently in meaty guest roles on hit TV shows.

Women in the 40+ demographic were also well-represented in the 2014-2015 pilot TV season, with Jamie Lee Curtis, Rosie Perez, Paget Brewster, Sharon Gless, Molly Shannon, Felicity Huffman, Tracy Ullman, Meg Ryan, Margaret Cho, Marcia Cross, Mary-Louise Parker, Patricia Wettig, and Ellen Burstyn (who’s nonetheless been a visible TV presence in adaptations of two V.C. Andrews’ novels for Lifetime) all attached to shows vying for slots on the network’s fall and midseason schedules.

Women are faring well in feature films as well, headlining blockbusters and dominating nominations throughout awards season. Sandra Bullock, Cate Blanchett, Jennifer Aniston, Cameron Diaz, Glenn Close, Dame Judi Dench, Dame Helen Mirren, Emma Thompson, Julia Roberts, Melissa McCarthy (again), Naomi Watts, Nicole Kidman, Tilda Swinton, Sigourney Weaver, Susan Sarandon, Diane Lane, Helena Bonham Carter, Julianne Moore, Marisa Tomei, Bette Midler, Jodie Foster, Sally Field, Diane Keaton, Joan Allen, Sela Ward, and, of course, Meryl Streep – all viable, all working.

Even in a traditionally male-oriented market like horror, women of a certain age are being afforded great reverence and opportunity. Lifetime’s recent adaptation of Stephen King’s novella BIG DRIVER featured a mostly female cast, all over the age of 40: Maria Bello (47), Joan Jett (56), Ann Dowd (58), and Olympia Dukakis (83). TALES OF POE, an anthology film by Bart Mastronardi and Alan Rowe Kelly, features genre vets Adrienne King, Amy Steel, Lesleh Donaldson, Desiree Gould, Debbie Rochon, and Caroline Williams – all actresses well into their 40s and 50s, some of whom have worked only intermittently since their earlier heydays. Or there’s THE SURVIVORS, a project currently in development by William Butler, which is slated to feature a veritable who’s who of final girls and femme fatales, all of whom are 40-plus.

In horror-themed series television, Ryan Murphy seems to be the pied piper of actresses over 40, creating attention-grabbing dream roles and single-handedly making last names like Lange and Bates water cooler-worthy topics of conversation. Arguably, THE WALKING DEAD’s most popular character right now is Carol Peletier, a strong, pragmatic zombie-survivalist who’s kicking ass and taking names – played by 49-year-old Melissa McBride. To note, THE WALKING DEAD is viewed by upwards of 15 million people per week.

But, admittedly, there are roles that women over the age of forty are routinely being locked out of: The ingénue. And that’s because (wait for it) they’re no longer ingénues. There’s a difference between realism and relevance that gets muddied when these misguided laments start. No, Goldie Hawn can’t pull off the ditzy ingénue anymore like she was lucky enough to do well into her early 40s in films like PROTOCOL, WILDCATS, and OVERBOARD. No filler or lifestyle lift can bring those offers back to her. Jamie Lee Curtis can’t likely perform a striptease like she did in TRUE LIES again and expect to achieve the same effect on audiences that she did at the age of 36. No amount of Activia or clean living is going to contradict that fact. But neither of these actors is less than because of those age-related realities, nor is either rendered less relevant because of them. As mentioned earlier, Curtis – at age 55 – was the lead in a CBS pilot this past year, and she remains attached to an ABC Family pilot. She guested on three episodes of FOX’s THE NEW GIRL in 2014, shot a film with George Lopez and Marisa Tomei, and showed up in a cameo role in the VERONICA MARS movie. She’s far from irrelevant.

Bringing it back full circle to the topic that started me down this road of thought, Ms. Zellweger is a seasoned Hollywood player, not a naïve ingénue. She knew exactly what she was doing when she stepped out onto that red carpet and what kind of reaction it would elicit when she did so, smiling and posing for photographers. Unless she's lived under a rock, she knew exactly the kind of scrutiny her appearance would bring and what kind of media trolls it would summon. Now she's getting more media attention and sympathy for the vitriol hurled by the Internet hobgoblins than she's had in years. Sorry, but she (and her publicist) knew exactly what they were doing and have played their hand exceptionally well. When was the last time Renée Zellweger was a top-trending topic anywhere?  PEOPLE, VANITY FAIR, THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER...almost every major entertainment media outlet is spinning this in a Zellweger-positive direction. You couldn't buy this kind of publicity. In our celebrity-obsessed pop culture, the haters are going to hate anyway...at least exploit that hate and gain some seriously good PR for a talented actress who stepped out of the limelight a long time ago.

It's called a silver lining.

Mark my words: There’s a new movie or TV role announcement forthcoming that will welcome yet another actress of a certain age back into the fold. Bet on it. 

Own Your Inner Homophobe

Michele Bachmann is, quite simply, a twat of exponential proportion. Now, before the feminists go wild, I mean that in the British sense of a derogatory insult, a pejorative meaning a fool, synonymous with the word twit and not the more vulgar euphemism for a certain part of the female anatomy. And she is. And I challenge anyone to argue the point.

All one had to do was watch Bachmann’s little performance on Sunday’s Meet the Press, during which she evaded nearly every direct question on LGBT issues raised by host David Gregory, to fully grasp this concept. Repeating what must be the new Republican mantra of “I am running for the presidency of the United States” over and over again like a stoned Stepford wife in answer to almost every question posed by the journalist, Bachmann came across looking like a bona fide caricature of America’s other favorite conservative sound bite whore, Sarah (“I can see Russia from my house!”) Palin.

But, please, don’t take my liberal-leaning word for it. Watch for yourself:



Now, setting aside for a moment the contemptibility of the few comments she did make and what her refusal to answer specific questions communicated, it’s her caginess that really irks me. Listen, if you are going to be a bigoted, gay-hating, homophobic hypocrite with a closet-case husband who runs a clinic that engages in conversion therapy (and accepts government dollars to do it), then (wo)man-up and own it. Don’t sit there with that smug little plastic grin on your face and pretend you’re getting one over on the American people – well, at least the ones with an ounce of critical thinking skills. Sadly, there will undoubtedly be a handful of supporters (from the Westboro Baptist Church, no doubt) who will buy into her shtick, but the majority of conservatives must have winced during that segment of Sunday’s show. Seriously, while I’m tickled as pink as Sherlock from The Magic Garden that someone as outrageously inept as Bachmann has sashayed onto the national stage in her Manolo Blahniks, you got to ask yourself: Is this really the best that the Republican Party has to offer?

And, just so there are no claims of partisanship on my part levied, I’ll go on record as saying this tendency of our politicos – regardless of their party affiliation – to dodge, hedge, and sidestep questions has risen to the level of an art form and needs to stop. We need to demand real answers to our real questions. Journalists need to practice journalism again and not worry about incurring future favor with the public relations machines that bring guests – and thereby ratings – to their shows. Media outlets need to worry less about making journalism sexy and bring back hard-hitting investigative reporting. Most importantly, we, as news consumers, need to stop accepting the journalistic drek that we’re fed through the mainstream network news outlets.

As for Bachmann, we needn’t worry. Even with the shortcomings of modern journalism, you can smell the excrement of her message from a mile away wearing nose plugs. Her campaign will implode once hubby Marcus is caught in a public restroom sting or the photos of him and one of his rentboy travel companions come to light or – as they always do. Or she’ll choke on her next corndog and no one at the state fair will know the Heimlich Maneuver.

Either way, this woman will never make it near the White House. Count on it.

Corndoggin' with the Bachmann's

Sometimes a picture really is worth a thousand words.

Best of the Rest - 2010 Edition

Over the past few days, I’ve shared with you my picks for the ten best albums and songs of 2010. But what about the rest – movies, television, and books? I had to do more in 2010 than just listen to music, right? So here a few of my other “Best of…” selections that colored last year.

BEST MOVIE: It was trippy, hallucinogenic, artfully directed, and buoyed by a pair of stellar performances. I’m speaking, of course, of Black Swan, Darren Aronofsky’s brilliant psychosexual suspense thriller revolving around a young ballet dancer performing dual roles in Swan Lake. Natalie Portman catapulted herself onto Hollywood’s A-list with her powerful turn as Nina Sayers, the driven ballet ingénue who finds her rise to stardom within a New York City ballet company complicated by one hell of a nervous breakdown. Barbara Hershey turns in a career-best performance with her role as Nina’s stage mother-from-hell, a relentless, driving force of maternal over-protectiveness who’s sporting some serious baggage of her own. Filmed with a stylistic franticness by cinematographer Matthew Libatique, Black Swan is an outlandishly melodramatic throwback to 70’s-style giallo that’s visually arresting, intellectually captivating, and just plain nail-bitingly good.

BEST BOOK: It was hard to make a call on a “best” book this year. There were so many great titles in 2010 that I really enjoyed, making my third year of book reviewing duties at Dark Scribe Magazine more of a pleasure than ever. There was Sparrow Rock, Nate Kenyon’s seriously creepy apocalyptic chiller about teens trapped in a bomb shelter after a nuclear attack. And Lisa Morton’s spooky debut, The Castle of Los Angeles, about a haunted theater and the ghost of a serial killer who decides to upstage a production based on his crimes. There was The Wolf at the Door, Jameson Currier’s gorgeous elegy to gay midlife wrapped within a traditional ghost story narrative set at a haunted New Orleans gay guesthouse. In the same vein (albeit a different genre), there was Stephen McCauley’s Insignificant Others, another beautifully rendered look at gay men at the crossroads of their lives and the myths of monogamy. John R. Little continued his trend of making me cry at the end of every one of his brilliant time-slip novellas with Dreams in Black and White. Peter Straub and Stephen King both added to their impressive – and ever- expanding – bibliographies with A Dark Matter and Full Dark, No Stars, respectively. Needless to say, neither was a disappointment.

But the best book of 2010, hands down, was also the weirdest and hardest to categorize. With magicians and sorcerers (here referred to as “hexslingers”), gods and monsters, western shootouts, and more audacious gay sex than anything you’ve likely read last year, A Book of Tongues by Gemma Files is one of those novels for which no number adjectives is adequate in describing it. But I’m going to try! That this ambitious, wildly imaginative, Aztec mythology-laden slice of genre-defying speculative fiction set in the post-Civil War American West is a debut novel makes its merits even more noteworthy. Everything here in Files’ debut is carried out with sheer precision – language, dialect, setting, mythology. The very definition of enthralling. Best part: This is part one of a planned trilogy.

BEST TELEVISION SHOW: Yes, True Blood and Dexter continued to deliver with stellar new seasons this year. Modern Family continued to make me howl with laughter, while freshman comedies Hot in Cleveland and Mike & Molly harkened back to a time when sitcoms were actually funny. And, yes, even an old(er) ratings stalwart like Desperate Housewives showed what a quick trip to the ladies powder room (in this case, the cast addition of the delectably slinky Vanessa Williams) could do to freshen up a tired face starting to show its age. But it was a gory, plot-light little survival drama on a basic cable network that gets my vote as last year’s Best Television Show.

The Walking Dead – based on the long-running monthly black-and-white American comic book series of the same name – turned out to be the water cooler show of the year and the most watched show in AMC’s history. The story is simple: In the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse, a group of survivors travel across a ravaged American landscape trying to dodge the shuffling, flesh-eating undead while attempting to wrap their heads around immense personal losses and their own seemingly insurmountable odds. While the former offers nothing new – we’ve seen and read about the decaying dead noshing on the living ad nauseum since 1968’s Night of the Living Dead – it’s the latter that makes this show the unlikely hit it has deservedly become. While the show – the brainchild of frequent Stephen King adapter Frank (The Mist, The Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile) Darabont – has taken some heat for its uneven writing, this is still a surprisingly engaging, moving drama about people and their relationships with each other and the (in this case, quickly dying) world around them.

A few unfinished pieces from the music-oriented “Best of…” lists:

BEST MUSICAL RETURN: Jennifer (The Power of Love) Rush returned to fill the power-diva void left by the late Laura Branigan and Celine Dion, who has unwisely opted to curtail her vocal acrobatics on more recent recordings. Although the material on Now Is the Hour – her first album of new material in more than thirteen years – may be Euro-generic in spots, Rush’s distinctive throaty warble is like the return of an old friend.

BEST GREATEST HITS COMPILATION: After releasing eight albums and selling more than 57 million copies of them worldwide, it’s a head-scratcher why the UK’s Robbie Williams isn’t a bigger draw here stateside. He’s got photogenic, boy-band good looks, possesses a terrific, multi-octave singing voice, oozes charisma and that British wink-wink wit we seem to gobble up, and has that outlandish bad boy image that keeps him in the media spotlight for myriad vices and oddities including chain smoking up to 60 cigarettes a day, prescription pill addiction, alcoholism, and drug-induced UFO sightings. By all accounts, the guy’s the male equivalent of Amy Winehouse. So, if you’ve yet to experience the former Take That member’s solo efforts, may I humbly (albeit strongly) suggest that you pick up a copy of his superb second greatest hits compilation, a comprehensive, marvelously packaged three-CD set called In and Out of Consciousness: Greatest Hits 1990–2010? Includes 39 songs that explore William’s diverse pop sensibilities, his ear for clever hooks, and his talent for some of the most witty, engaging lyrics in the modern pop era.

‘Shutter Island’: Stylistic Hot Air

Watching the bewildering box office hit SHUTTER ISLAND this weekend, I was reminded of the lyrics from British group Talk Talk’s 1982 eponymous song:

I'm tired of listening to you
Talking in rhymes
Twisting round to make me think
You're straight down the line

All you do to me is talk talk
talk talk, talk talk
All you do to me is talk talk

Ok, so maybe Martin Scorsese has earned the right to engage in an indulgent mess of a film like SHUTTER ISLAND. After all, this is the guy responsible for classics like TAXI DRIVER, RAGING BULL, GOODFELLAS, and CASINO. But, understanding that Scorsese knows his way around a tight suspense thriller (CAPE FEAR, anyone?) makes this exercise in cinematic excess all the more puzzling – and, ultimately, disappointing.

Scorsese directs from a script by Laeta Kalogridis (pulling double duty here as an Executive Producer) based on the novel by Dennis (MYSTIC RIVER) Lehane. It’s 1954 when the film opens on two US Marshals, Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo), making their way through the Boston Harbor Islands to the titular location, where a hospital for the criminally insane and a MIA murderess await. Investigation into the missing female inmate’s whereabouts ensues as a hurricane bears down on the island and the increasingly ominous hospital shrinks thwart the federal lawmen’s access to pertinent patient records. DiCaprio, who spends the majority of the film furrowing his brow, reveals some personal motivations of his own for wanting this assignment in the first place, while the mostly venerable cast including Ben Kingsley, Max von Sydow, Michelle Williams, and the always-outstanding Patricia Clarkson imbue the proceedings with a sense of prestige and solemnity despite the trench-coated silliness that abounds.

But this flashback-laden, dialogue-heavy talkfest quickly overstays any welcome Scorsese is able to establish with cinematographer Robert Richardson’s opening shots of the imposingly creepy titular island. He’s heavy-handed with his clues and red herrings, giving away the film’s big SIXTH SENSE-style twist ending within the first ten minutes of the film from DiCaprio’s first headache to his early maniacal chain smoke on the deck of the boat transporting them to the island. Scorsese spends the bulk of the film (clocking in at a hefty two hours and eighteen minutes) moving DiCaprio from location to location around the island engaging everyone from psychiatrists to psychopaths in endless conversation.

It’s all overplayed to the point of tedium so that by the time the competently executed finale rolls around, we’re checking our watch trying to calculate the remaining running time while mulling over the Applebee’s menu in our head.

SHUTTER ISLAND is not without its bright spots. Ted Levine makes a memorable appearance playing the institution’s sinister warden. Mainstream audiences will recognize him as serial killer “Buffalo Bill” from 1991’s THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, while savvy genre buffs will note that Levine was the uncredited voice of Rusty Nail, the murderous trucker in 2001’s JOY RIDE. His appearance is so welcome among the seemingly endless dialogue that one half hopes he’ll ask DiCaprio to “put the lotion in the bucket” with his man bits tucked inconspicuously between his legs. Comeback kid Jackie Earle Haley (so achingly brilliant in 2006’s LITTLE CHILDREN) also shows up briefly as a bruised and battered patient.

Other highpoints include Dante Ferretti’s atmospheric production design and longtime Scorsese collaborator Robbie Robertson’s decision to eschew an original soundtrack for an eclectic selection of modern classical music that’s as bold as it is beautiful (albeit irritatingly thunderous at times).

Visually, SHUTTER ISLAND hits all the right marks – from set design to costumes. It’s the convoluted script and anemic pacing that makes this one trip worth putting off until the DVD arrives. If you like psychological thrillers heavy on the psychobabble and light on the actual thrill, however, catch the next ferry to your local multiplex.

Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Say It Ain’t So, Fango!

So, like the rest of our plastic surgery-obsessed culture, Fangoria magazine has apparently decided to give itself a facelift. Seemingly gone is the iconic 35mm film strip image running along the left-hand border – complete with near-satirical captions – replaced by one center image flanked on either side by generic blurbs about what’s inside the magazine. It’s like someone hit the snooze button on the magazine’s cover design. Visually, it’s boring and the design does nothing to set it apart from its competitors.

Now, in the interest of disclosure, I have to admit my bias in considering the new cover. Like many horror fans in their mid-life years, I grew up with Fangoria. I have vivid memories of the anticipation of the bike ride over to the local comic book store – snowy afternoons and summer mornings alike – hoping beyond hope that the latest issue had arrived. I remember trying to guess which film from the previous issue’s “Things To Come" would warrant the coveted central cover, and which films would earn a place in the filmstrip. I remember the joy over arriving at the comic store to find the magazine stacked a dozen deep on the shelf and the disappointment when I didn’t. I remember the build-up during the bike ride home, simultaneously torturing myself with the delayed perusal and willing my feet to pedal faster with the expectancy of that glorious feeling once I allowed myself to fully delve in. I remember how I savored each and every full-color shot of Tom Savini’s latest gore effect, how I gazed in awe at the lavish four-page spread reverently bestowed upon the latest obscurity-destined Canadian slasher film. It would be no understatement to say that Fangoria shaped my love for horror, cultivating my particular tastes within the genre.

But one of the central aspects of this thirty-year love affair with Fangoria has been its staunch refusal to change even when everything else around it did. Horror magazines came and went, trends in horror films were born, died, and were resurrected. Yet Fangoria has, in large part, been the one and only constant in the horror genre’s cyclical evolution, as reliable in its distinctive look as in its mission, focus, and content. The Fangoria cover has long been the proud bearer of the magazine’s unique brand, one it took great pains to create, nurture, and sustain for thirty years. The magazine’s cover spoke to that, telling the market and its competitors that it was a force to be reckoned with and that the loyalty of its readers could sustain the consistency of its product. Maybe it’s a sign of the times when a business seeks to redefine itself, and perhaps it should be no surprise that Fangoria appears to be doing just that.

But it’s damn sad. Sad because the magazine has bucked the trend for so long. Sad because the magazine has never needed to, its reputation as the premiere horror entertainment magazine remaining intact for three decades under the steady, guiding hand of longtime editor Tony Timpone and crew.

Tweak the cover to keep it fresh, but don’t change its essence. The new logo with its fang-slanted bottom tips, for example, is particularly effective because it builds on what preceded it; it doesn’t throw the baby out with the dishwater.

Maybe this is a test to gauge reader reaction, a temporary design nightmare from which we’ll all wake up to find ourselves safe and snug in our own beds. Let’s hope so because the Fangoria cover spoke volumes for thirty years. Now, it’s a mere whisper of its former self.