Many women (including my wife) enthusiastically agree that actor Timothy Olyphant is incredibly hot. As Marshall Raylan Givens in FX channel’s Justified, he is as dangerous as a heart-throb as he is with a gun.
When portraying Marshall Givens in dangerous situations, Olyphant uses his eyes and sly smile to convey the feeling that Givens is coolly sizing up the opposition. Marshall Givens usually seems less prone to rage than the sheriff Olyphant played in Deadwood. Nonetheless, Olyphant makes us feel that Marshall Givens will kill without a moments hesitation, if justified. And since Justified is set in a contemporary rural Kentucky environment filled with dangerous criminals, guns, and drugs, Givens’s expertise with a handgun does frequently come into play.
A number of things seems to make Olyphant particularly attractive to women. He is tall and lean-muscled, with a body like a fashion model. He is boyishly handsome, with a lush head of hair. As Marshall Givens, Olyphant’s intense, dark-eyes sometimes narrow into threatening slits as he looks out from under his cowboy hat. But a sideways glance from those dark eyes, combined with a sly smile, seems to make many of his female fans go weak in the knees.
Olyphant has been talked about as one of the new male actors who have a notable flair with style. GQ magazine recently named his Raylan Givens character as the most stylish man on TV (their site has a great photo of Olyphant in costume). In a December 2011 GQ article Sarah Goldstein wrote that even some men have crushes on Marshall Givens. And Olyphant himself admits that he enjoys playing a badass character like Raylan.
I don't follow Dancing with the Stars, so when I saw J.R. Martinez on the cover of last week's People I didn't realize he'd been in the news lately.
Isn't that the guy Charles Oliver wrote about for DeepGlamour? I asked myself. And, sure enough, it was. For those of you who missed it, here, straight from J.R.'s hometown of Dalton, Georgia, is that 2008 guest post about how an injured veteran turned himself into a soap opera actor.
The Academy Awards show is ridiculous. Guests arrive in broad daylight wearing the most formal of evening gowns. Presenters, including some of the world's most accomplished performers, read their lines with the studied cadence of high-school commencement speakers.
In contrast to the Super Bowl, a beauty pageant or "American Idol," nothing happens on stage that affects the outcome of the competition. The production numbers are just padding. And, of course, the speeches are boring, the show is too long, and comedies never have a chance.
Yet the Oscar ceremony somehow manages to be compelling. In a good year like 2010, its U.S. audience tops 40 million, according to Nielsen Co. In a bad year like 2008, it tops 30 million. By contrast, the recent Grammy ceremony, which offers far better musical numbers, won its week with only 26.7 million viewers.
The Oscar show's appeal can't just be the fun of water-cooler criticism. You can get all the information you need for that from Twitter or the next day's newspaper. You don't need to sit through the awards ceremony.
In fact, as the marketing efforts of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences suggest, the glamour of the Oscars lies not in the movies the show ostensibly celebrates, but in the "Oscar moment." Watching the Oscars gives viewers the chance to imagine being singled out before the whole world as special, beloved and really good at their jobs.
To promote the show, the Academy is giving fans in New York City two different chances to pose holding Oscars, either virtual statues or, at Grand Central Terminal, real ones. There, "the big payoff is that you get to go on stage and have your Oscar moment," says Janet Weiss, the Academy's director of marketing. Some people, she says, even show up in gowns and tuxes.
Read the rest here. That's my photo to the right, taken on Friday in Grand Central.
Digital special effects are now used so frequently in films and television that we tend to take them for granted. Photoshop is so widely used to manipulate digital photographs that we seldom notice the changes, sometimes even when “realistic” advertising photos have missing, wrongly sized, or misaligned parts. (The website Photoshop Disasters adds funny comments to miscalculated images.)
The theater has always dealt in illusions, and we are perfectly capable of imagining that a bare stage or an abstract set (such as the one shown in the photograph) represents a fictional world. Shakespeare’s plays were first performed on bare stages: thus the characters often speak of the time of day and place.
With experience we also sometimes take theatrical conventions for granted. A proscenium stage is described as having an invisible fourth wall through which the audience views the sets and action onstage. A movie or television screen serves much the same purpose. We forget that we are looking at a flat picture plane once we begin looking “through it” to see images that seem to have dimensional qualities. The addition of 3D further heightens our feeling that we are seeing a dimensional reality, rather than the illusion of one projected onto a screen.
Stage and screen illusions depend partially on an awareness that what the audience will be able to perceive is limited. The fourth wall, for example, does not reveal what is going on above, behind, below, or to the sides of the stage. Cameras reveal only what is in front of the lens, concealing even the person operating the camera.
When actors and dancers perform onstage, they know where the fourth wall is, and they sometimes “cheat” by turning their bodies enough to insure that their speeches and actions are audible and visible to the audience. Dance studios have large mirrors so that dancers can develop some sense of how their bodies, costumes, and movements will look to the audience. In film and photographic work, actors and models learn to maintain an awareness of where the camera is, as well as the light.
In most dramatic productions, the prevailing convention is that the actors act as if the audience is not there, even though actors need to retain some awareness of them. In most film situations, such as the dining room set shown in the photograph, it is impossible to ignore the presence of the equipment. The ability to perform effectively while aware of the presence of an audience, or a camera and a set full of equipment, is a difficult skill, but one that actors must master if we are going enjoy the fictional illusion that they exist in a “real” world.
[The abstract set was built for a production of Sara McKinnon, an opera by Mark Medoff and Randall Shinn. Photograph by Carol Shinn. The photograph “Film set in the dining room” is by Flickr user ricardodiaz11. Used under the Flickr Creative Commons license.]
When tonight's episode of Covert Affairs airs, most fans of the USA Network spy drama will be looking at sexy leading lady Piper Perabo, who plays rookie CIA operative Annie Walker. I, however, will be wondering what sort of sleeveless outfit her boss Joan Campbell, played by Kari Matchett, will be sporting.
Unless she's on assignment, Annie dresses like a typical Washington professional--in suits (though not in the clip below). Joan, however, never covers her arms. Is this a new form of power dressing? Is it Michelle Obama's influence? Or is it yet another Hollywood fantasy? (They've been putting female detectives in tank tops for years. But at least they also have jackets.) You'd think that Langley's air conditioning alone would dictate more coverage.
Here are a couplemore YouTube clips. Apparently I'm not the only one wondering about these outfits. There's a whole thread on IMDB.
John Hendricks, founder of the Discovery Channel, was already captivated by automobiles by age five. He knew the names and model years of all the cars on the road. He would sit behind the wheel of his father’s parked 1952 Plymouth Cranbrook, and instead of being in the mountains of West Virginia, he would look at his father’s maps of Colorado and Utah and imagine himself driving in the wild West.
As an adult, John loved to watch documentaries and didn't think enough were available on TV, so in 1982 he founded the Cable Educational Network and, three years later, the Discovery Channel. Over time, while doing work that he loves as chairman of Discovery Communications, he and his wife Maureen have become wealthy.
Keep in mind that most entrepreneurial ventures fail, but imagine success. Imagine yourself with a multi-million dollar net worth. Would you imagine continuing to work, starting new ventures, and spending some of your earnings on your personal interests? Or do you see yourself leading a life of leisure, perhaps traveling the world on some fashionable circuit?
John and Maureen Hendricks have realized the first fantasy: Their interests and personalities haven't changed. They aren't flashy, and the luxuries they spend their money on aren't designed to impress the world. John, like many entrepreneurs, continues to work hard at various ventures, and both he and Maureen are involved in charitable activities, including establishing two foundations. But their wealth lets them live the dream of indulging their lifelong passions.
With extra money to spend, John Hendricks began to collect autos in earnest. And to share his love of automobiles, he created the Gateway
Colorado Auto Museum to exhibit his growing collection of more than 40 vehicles. This beautifully designed museum provides both an educational and aesthetic experience. John’s statement about the museum reveals his intense passion for automotive design.
The video above shows the prototype of legendary auto designer Harley Earl’s 1954 Oldsmobile F-88 on display at the museum. General Motors decided against producing the F-88 car partly because they were concerned it would compete with the Corvette. Only four prototypes were built and only this one survives. Hendricks purchased it at auction in 2005 for $3.24 million.
The Hendricks's shared love for the American Southwest led to their latest business venture, Gateway Canyons, a luxurious resort in a remote, spectacularly beautiful location in Western Colorado. The resort is now open after Phase I development, and includes the Experius Academy, a retreat for “introducing the most curious learners to the most passionate experts.”
Maureen Hendricks is avid quilter and art-quilt collector, and the Gateway Canyons facilities display numerous large art quilts, many of them by Katie Pasquini Masopust. Katie used to hold an annual quilt symposium Alegre
Retreat in Santa Fe, which Maureen attended each year until rising venue expenses made it too difficult for Katie continue the symposium. The Gateway Canyon resort has given Maureen a way both to enjoy herself and to support other enthusiasts. With the resort’s support, Alegre Retreat now holds its workshops there. Staying at a luxurious resort to study and interact with some of the world’s best-known art quilters remains an expensive retreat for the participants, but Maureen’s passion for quilting is so strong that whether or not the quilting retreat becomes profitable is not her primary concern. She wants the aesthetic rewards of the Alegre Retreat to continue to be a part of her life.
Meeting them when my wife taught at Alegre, I was impressed at how inner-directed John and Maureen Hendricks are. If we fantasize about how we might spend multi-millions if we had them, would our choices likewise remain true to our preexisting passions? (Reflecting on this makes me consider my own passions.) Or do our fantasies revolve about living a life of luxurious leisure dictated by the images we see in fashion and travel magazines? (Such images definitely have appeal for me.) What about you? Imagining that you had some extra millions to spend, DG invites you to comment on how you might spend them.
Unless you’ve been hiding in a cave, you’ve probably heard of Fox’s new crazy big hit show, Glee. The show, which is one part Freaks & Geeks, one part musical theater, and one part Saved by the Bell, has 3.1 million fans on Facebook (I am one of them), has spawned countless blogs and YouTube tributes, and is typically the first or second most watched show in its timeslot, especially among the coveted 18 to 49 demographic. We are, it appears, a “Gleek” nation.
The show’s website calls Glee, “a musical comedy that follows and optimistic high school teacher as he tries to transform the school’s Glee Club and inspire a group of ragtag performers to make it to the biggest competition of all: Nationals” – a description so understated it’s almost funny, considering that Glee is a show that involves Hammer pants, Lady Gaga, and Jane Lynch in a tracksuit. Glee understands how to use theatricality to amuse.
Plus, Glee understands the power of glamour, and this is why it – a show about the geekiest kids at a suburban Ohio high school – really works. It’s funny and over the top, but viewers relate to the characters in their insecure high school kid incarnations, so those same viewers experience the elation when the kids start singing and transform into glamorous stars of the stage.
So what is it, exactly, that Glee does right when it comes to glamour? At least five things:
Clothes (and hair) matter. In the Power of Madonna episode, Jane Lynch’s character, Sue Sylvester – a ball-busting cheerleading coach – is made over in the image of Madonna, the Vogue years. In the blink of an eye, Sue transforms from butch gym coach to Madonna at her most Old Hollywood. She’s got the same face, but thanks to her new clothes and fancy hair, a whole new persona.
Good lighting is important. Many of the show’s musical numbers take place in a bright classroom, or in the hallways, but when the story requires some drama, they get on the stage. The creators of Glee understand the power of a well-placed spotlight, and they use it.
Music can transform.Lea Michele’s character, Rachel, is a familiar one: the kid with big dreams who’s so ambitious she’s annoying. But when she opens her mouth – to sing, not to talk – she transforms from an obnoxious girl into a desirable and glamorous woman.
There’s power in belonging. One of Glee’s central conflicts is between Sylvester’s “Cheerios” (the cheerleaders) and the geeky glee club. In some ways, the show mocks traditionally powerful high school cliques, exposing the insecurities and faults of the cheerleaders and football players. However, Glee isn’t just a high school geek’s revenge fantasy – in this show, the cheerleaders do win a lot and nobody apologizes for wanting to fit in.
Glamour has multiple faces. Yes, there is power in belonging and the Cheerios, with their ponytails and uniforms, are glamorous in a pretty, typical way. But they’re only one image of glamour on the show – each character has his or her own brand of glamour. Take Kurt and Puck, for example. Kurt is a dramatic and flamboyant gay guy, while Puck is a football-playing, cheerleader-bagging badass. They’re wildly different male characters, but they’re viewed through the same lens, so they’re equally glamorous.
Tuesday’s finale, in which the kids compete at Regionals, promises to be standard Glee fare: lots of heart from the kids, attitude from Sue Sylvester, a few cheerleading uniforms, and a handful of soaring song-and-dance numbers. And glamour, of course – on the surface, underneath, and twisted throughout.
Writing in the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, William Loeffler proclaims the end of the Metrosexual:
The man's man is back. And he's had enough of unisex salons, simpering emo music and the emasculating kryptonite of the Oprahsphere.
Or so say a spate of ads, books and websites that hail the emergence of the retrosexual, whose attitude and style hearken back to the strong, silent type of the '50s and early '60s.
The retrosexual keeps things simple. He does not own more hair and skin care products than his wife or girlfriend. He does not "accessorize."
Think Don Draper, the dapper, jut-jawed executive played by Jon Hamm in the AMC series "Mad Men." He may be a philanderer, but you won't find a pink shirt in his wardrobe. Like the dark hero characters of ex-spy Michael Westen in "Burn Notice" and U.S. Marshal Raylon Givens in "Justified," "Mad Men" presents alpha males who live unapologetically by their own code.
Loeffler's is the latest in a string of articles on the so-called Menaissance (see for instance this 2006 Boston Globe piece). What struck me, however, was the juxtaposition of Don Draper and Michael Westen (I've never seen Justified)--both exceedingly stylish figures. They may not own a lot of grooming products, but they do accessorize. Westen's sunglasses are, in fact, one of the show's signature props and have sparked much online discussion from viewers who want their own versions. (That'll be $400.)
The real contrast isn't between these guys and overgroomed Metrosexuals but between both groups, with their grown-up polish, and the beer-bellied American male in comfy shorts and untucked oversized shirt. On my recent trip to research glamour in Shanghai (more on that later), I talked with author and marketing consultant Paul French who, among many other interesting things, commented on why, with a few exceptions, American apparel lines haven't been terribly successful in Shanghai. U.S. companies are too attuned to the sloppy casualness of the American market, and Shanghainese like to look sharp. They want Banana Republic, he said, not The Gap--something that apparently escapes the parent company of both. (Instead of BR, there's a local knockoff called Urban Renewal.)
By way of illustration, French recounted what observed when two jet-lagged Americans came into the McDonald's where he and his 10-year-old son were having breakfast:
I noticed the Chinese were giggling at them. And then I looked at them. These guys were about my age. They’re in their 40s, right? And they had T-shirts, baseball caps, shorts, and then sort of sports shoes that looked like they had some tractor tires on the bottom of them. And I looked at them and then I looked my 10 year old who was not quite as casual as them.....If you put them on a bus and drove them around town, people would think they were retarded and going to the special place that they’re looked after for the day. I mean just isn’t it a shame? They never grew up mentality but they did physically.
No one would say that about either Michael Westen or Brad Pitt. What makes Retrosexuals seem manlier than Metrosexuals is their sprezzatura. They hide the artifice it takes to achieve their look. But the popularity of both models suggests that at least some American men want to escape the pressure to be sloppy.
In a minor victory for age-inappropriate hipsters everywhere, Seth Aaron Henderson took the title of reigning champion of Project Runway last night in a collection inspired by "1940s Russian-German military style." (Oh what I would have paid to see the look on Michael Kors' mother's face for that gem! You know he took hell for that one at seder in the Hamptons.) This year's finale theme was "trends that everyone else discovered a few years ago." Patent leather? Gasp! Mustard yellow and bright blue? Don't tell Mr. Jacobs. He'll never think of it.
Ah, to return to those halcyon days when Wendy Pepper was sending gowns down the runway to the dramatic strains of "A L'Infini," or to have but one glimpse of another ombre feathered creation by Christian Siriano. Drama! Music! Sizzle! At certain fabulous workplaces, fashionistas would scramble to the water cooler the morning after a Runway finale to dissect every last button on the final collections and defend their designers to the death. But Season 7 not only failed to inspire, but it may have achieved the unthinkable: to de-glam the notion of showing at Fashion Week. This season's collections were, to quote one of Padma Lakshmi's best lines of all time from reality television, "pedestrian at best." This is saying a lot after Season 6, where the unlikeable Irina Shabayeva proved that one really can escape the doldrums of bad taste with a rescue ladder made of pleather and fur, and Season 5, where the milk-toasty Leanne Marshall designed a collection so forgettable that I had to Bing it to remember the signature piece.
So how did Project Runway jump the sharkskin pump and lose its glamour? DG offers 3 reasons:
1. The move to Lifetime. Notwithstanding the great strides that "Television for Women (and Gay Men)" has made over the past few years, this used to be the network that considered re-runs of Supermarket Sweep and The Golden Girls to be its anchor programing. Watching Runway in high definition on Bravo gave the show an air of cool, current relevance, but Runway on Lifetime feels like wearing a Dior gown for a coffee date at Wal-Mart. I can't see a commercial break for Drop Dead Diva and then return to a program purporting to show me haute couture.
2. The heavy hand of the marketing department. Frankly, the Bluefly.com accessories wall, even when used thoughftfully under the watchful eye of Uncle Tim, is an eyesore. (Remember when Kara Saun got into a throw-down with the producers in Season 1 over those fantastic shoes that may have put her over-budget? Can you imagine telling Kara, "but look at those lovely metallic flats on the Bluefly.com accessories wall!") Models on the Runway was another misstep. Does Lifetime not watch the CW? An ANTM rip-off may have been timely a few years ago, but not when Tyra's girls are now just as likely to end up in (or under) the Rock of Love tourbus with Bret Michaels. But perhaps the lowest point of Season 7 was watching Vivienne Tam hawk an HP TouchSmart PC in somewhat broken English as part of the "fashion meets technology" challenge. Even the designers were visibly unethusiastic about such gross product placement.
3. Judging fatigue. Could Nina Garcia possibly be any more bored with the show? We used to live for Nina's caustic critique, but after career demotion and new motherhood, Nina seems to lack the energy to muster much more than a raised eyebrow for an unfinished hem. Inspired by Michael Kors, I live for an opportunity to describe an outfit as looking "like a dinner napkin just crumpled up" or "a paper brioche." Where were the zingers for this season that brought bitchy fun to the last 10 minutes of the show?
What could bring back the glamour to Season 8? Give us your thoughts in the comments.
Barbie's been busy lately with brand extensions. Just a few weeks ago, we met Video Girl Barbie, with her tiny camera that lets girls see the world through Barbie's eyes. Yesterday, the world through Barbie's eyes got a little saucier, when Mattel announced its plans to produce four Barbie dolls based on characters from the TV show Mad Men.
These dolls aren't really designed for kids, of course - they're part of the Barbie Fashion Model Collection and will sell for $74.95 each. But it will be interesting to see if the show's entry into toyland has an effect. Will little girls start dressing their Target-bought Kens and Barbies in natty suits and tiny Betty Draper-style dresses?
In the New York Times article announcing the deal between the show and Mattel, Lionsgate president for television programming and production, Kevin Beggs, comments that Mad Men is tricky to promote, saying, "It's not 'Cougar Town' or 'Desperate Housewives,' where you get it in one line." Beggs says this to explain some of the rationale behind the partnership, which is just one more step in the show's non-traditional branding approach, which has included a line of Mad Men-inspired suits at Brooks Brothers and in-store promotion at Banana Republic.
I wonder, though, if the show's complexity makes it difficult to translate its characters into dolls. When I first saw the dolls, I recognized their characters, but focused on the ways they differ from the "real" people (from left to right in the photo, they are: Joan Holloway, Roger Sterling, Don Draper, and Betty Draper). In doll form, Roger looks a bit like Eric Ripert, Joan is a whole lot less Joan, and Don is nowhere near as handsome as Jon Hamm. To be fair, Betty looks pretty good, though her hair is a tad on the poufy side.
In her post about Video Girl Barbie, Ingrid Fetell wrote that girls enjoy playing with Barbie because they can explore glamorous fantasy worlds through the Barbie character. Adults can do the same when they buy a Mad Men suit. I wonder, though, whether the dolls can provide grownups any of the same type of satisfaction. Do they offer a glimpse into a fantasy world? Or are they just slightly stilted artifacts of that fantasy?
Back in the olden days, before cable gave us entire networks for children's shows, we kiddos were pretty darn bored during primetime TV. Except, of course, during those extra special Christmas programming hours.
Now, I know what you're thinking: “But Paige! The Mandrell Sisters wasn't a show on just during the holidays, it actually had a two-year run! And Paige, besides the Mandrell sisters, IMDB says that the stars were also Truck Shackley & the Texas Critters, a group of Krofft puppets that included five musicians and a dog!” Yes, yes, sure. OK, but for some reason all I can remember are the holiday specials. The hair, the costumes, the terrible skits with long pauses in between canned laughter. *Sigh.* Those were the days. (BTW, apparently Louise Mandrell is playing the Gaylord Opryland with her "Joy to the World: Christmas Dinner & Show" through Dec. 25)
And then, after years without this country truly embracing a blonde country singer with mediocre comic timing and a penchant for sparkly gowns, what do my wondering eyes see?
Carrie Underwood and her very own Christmas Special right there on Fox TV! Carrie tells E! Online: “This was kinda my first real experience with acting at all and I honestly don't think I'm very good, but I think it totally works for what we're doing because, I don't know, it's probably more funny if you're not the best actor in the world.”
YES, CARRIE! She nailed it! THAT IS WHAT MAKES CHRISTMAS VARIETY SHOWS GREAT! TERRIBLE ACTING! BAD SKITS! DULCET SONGS! SEQUINS!
Banana Republic sponsored a photo competition for people dressed in the style of the TV show MadMen. The prize is a walk-on role for an episode of the show, and the semifinalists and now the winner have been announced. Among the semifinalist photos we see portraits of wives and airline stewardesses, but secretaries (now titled “administrative assistants”) and interns seem underrepresented.
In imagining a walk-on role, a temporary secretary or someone interviewing to be an intern would seem to have great potential. Such a walk-on role could be little or no dialogue, and a lovely young woman could provide eye candy for the show’s viewers. Surely a lot of contestants felt this would be the case and submitted photos of themselves as secretaries. One of these is shown at right.
An attractive, unattached female is inevitably the focus of considerable male attention in an office, even if it is limited to looking and fantasizing. The image at right captures such a moment marvelously. The woman who is the subject of her boss’s admiring appraisal no doubt realizes that he will study her figure as she walks away, and she accepts it, though from her expression we can’t tell whether she welcomes it or not.
Back before issues of sexual harassment made office relationships more hazardous, secretaries were often involved in affairs with their bosses or other men in the office. So I find it surprising that photos of secretaries didn’t turn up in the semi-finalists. However, the semi-finalists and winners were determined by public voting, which always make the outcome of a contest unpredictable. A long-standing issue for the TV show Dancing with the Stars has been how its predominately female viewers vote. After the first few seasons the producers feared that no woman contestant would ever win because so many women viewers seemed to simply vote for the man they would most like to have as their dance partner.
The winning MadMen photo is shown at left, and an interview with winner Porter Hovey can be found here. Hovey is a freelance photographer, and she and her sister staged the photo. She portrays a well-dressed suburban mom, sunglasses and all, who is sitting on the steps next to her vintage stroller. One of the questions her interviewer asks is whether she sees herself as a Marilyn or a Jackie, though there doesn’t seem much doubt which one she emulates in the photo.
Contests in which the winner is whoever crosses the line first are easy to understand. The same with sports like basketball where points are scored when the ball goes through the hoop, and the team with the most points wins.
Contests involving subjective judgments are often puzzling. Looking at the photos of the men who are semi-finalists, only the first had a suggestion of narrative. The rest seem like straightforward photos—no feeling of story. Some of the women’s photos are more interesting in a narrative sense, particularly the first, the last, and the winner. In these, the women are seen in staged action. Surely that made a difference in how voters were able to relate to photos.
Perhaps the majority of voters in this contest were women, and if so I can imagine them relating to a wife with responsibilities who is forced to wait for someone, perhaps her late-as-usual husband. A scene like this invites us to imagine what the story is. The photo looks like it could be a genuine street shot, and people were actually stopping and peeking in to see the baby (which turned out to be camera gear).
It would be interesting to know the demographics of the voters. Did women vote for images of women that they identified with? Returning to the lack of secretary photos among the semifinalists, were women voters less inclined to vote for images of women who look as if they might put a married man’s fidelity to the test? I didn’t vote, but as a male I confess that I understood why the man in the first photo was mesmerized.
[Photo of the woman in blue is from Suchacyn’s Flicker Photostream, and is used by permission.]
This Saturday is the 49th anniversary of the first presidential debate between John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon. The debate marks a turning point in American political history—the point when television caught up with (and surpassed) newspapers and the radio as the most influential element media through which to campaign.
Nixon famously underestimated the visual power of TV. He refused makeup, against the advice of his television advisor, Ted Rogers, even though he'd just regained health after a two-week illness. As a result, he appeared tired and run-down.
Kennedy, on the other hand, was the picture of health, tanned and ready after campaigning in California—a "bronze warrior," as Rogers described him. The perfect picture of mid-century strength, youth, and masculine glamour.
The radio audience considered Nixon the winner, but unfortunately for Nixon, that moment coincided with a shift in the public's behavior. Kennedy's youth and vigor appealed to the television audience, who thought he won the debate.
The momentum Kennedy picked up at that first debate proved too much for Nixon, in 1960, anyway. The lesson Nixon learned the hard way - never underestimate the visual impact of health and glamour—was burned in every rising politico's brain.
In recent years, we've seen another shift in media and glamour, as the particular charms of the Internet force candidates to learn how to respond quickly and effectively to a constituent base made up of citizen journalists. Being able to adeptly manage messages is even more difficult now than it was in 1960. But the importance of glamour is still there—just ask will.i.am. Even today, politicians hope to capture the healthy, young, exciting energy that Kennedy so effortlessly projected back in September 1960.
A look at the Nixon/Kennedy debates and the impact they had on the election:
Editor's note: Kate originally published this post on October 16, 2008, but recent events make it worth a new look.
Jeffrey Goldberg at The Atlanticspeculated about a Sarah Palin reality show, but you can tell he's not really familiar with the parameters of the genre. (Ophelia Swims came closer.) For a really successful series, you need an attractive protagonist (because they come into your home, every week), a lively and diverse supporting cast, and a location or situation in which conflict, resolution, and emotion can bloom.
North of 60 with Sarah
In this new reality series, former candidate for Vice-President, Alaskan Gov. Sarah Palin, a forty-ish, flirty mother of 5 (!), juggles affairs of state, lost homework, disgruntled constituents, injunction-waving lawyers, wedding planning, and putting meat on the table. Think docu-drama meets C-Span, shot on location in the wilds of the frozen north.
In the first episode, spunky Sarah vetos anti-gill net legislation and an extended curfew for Willow with equal aplomb. Piper stows away on a float plane, but a quick thinking state trooper has her home for dinner.
Future episodes include a show-down between Sarah and Putin over fishing rights that's soon eclipsed by the furor raised by Bristol's determination to have a vegan wedding buffet.
Later, French premier Sarkozy shows up for a fly-fishing lesson--without his wife! Thanks to an emergency international call, the First Dude saves the day.
Sounds almost real, doesn't it? Have your people call my people. (Looks like cameras are rolling!)
Guest blogger Sean Kinsell can usually be found at WhitePeril.com, where he writes about popular culture, Japanese politics, the gay marriage debate, and other topics. Visit his blog for current thoughts on Michael Jackson and Madona's inevitable old age tour.
When I was living in Tokyo, a Japanese buddy of mine complained that Americans were hard to get to know. I found that strange, given how famously guarded the Japanese are when they meet you. But his point was that what made it hard to navigate with Americans (and Australians and Canadians—“Maybe it’s a former-colony thing,” he giggled) was that we seem completely open. We’re friendly and inquisitive and forthcoming about things Japanese people would never discuss in a million years with someone they’d just been introduced to. You can walk away from that first meeting thinking you know everything, a misjudgment you’d never make after a single conversation with a Japanese person. You think everything’s on the surface, my friend explained, and only afterward do you realize that your gabby, fun-loving American friend’s personality actually has hidden spaces.
That was the kind of image Farrah Fawcett embodied when she became famous: frankness rather than reserve. Quick action rather than contemplation. Playful sass rather than misgivings. The impression of full visibility. She conveyed the sense that she had nothing to fear from letting you see all the way in because her coolness and sexiness and confidence went all the way down. It was the illusion of no-maquillage attractiveness, the opposite of the geisha who has to spend years of training and a half-day of being dressed before she’s ready to walk out the door. Women saw her as a woman who could look pulled-together and radiant even while wearing a basketball uniform or sprinting in a ball gown. Men saw her as a woman who would be ready to look great on their arm at dinner without spending an hour in front of the mirror; they could touch her wonderful hair without feeling sticky hairspray and her cheeks without getting blusher on their cuffs.
This week's Fashion Show challenged contestants to design an outfit based on the work of one of eight fashion icons: Coco Chanel, Christian Dior, Gianni Versace, Madame Grès, Emilio Pucci, Halston, or Yves Saint-Laurent. It was surprising to see how little fashion history many of these designers have absorbed, since a littlewebsurfing or the occasional visit to a museum or bookstore is enough to give you a basic education—no formal schooling required. The episode also demonstrated how much the show could be improved by a tie-in with FIT (a rival to Project Runway’s Parsons or FIDM), especially its outstanding museum. It would be great to see the brainy Valerie Steele replace deadwood host Kelly Rowland.
The contestants who wound up in the bottom two, Haven and Reco, were assigned Yves Saint Laurent and Halston, respectively. Although Haven professed a great admiration for YSL’s work, she failed to capture its feel, while Reco knew nothing about Halston.
Unfortunately, as judge Fern Mallis noted on her blog, the samples provided by the vintage shop—just one per design icon—"were not in all instances great representations of those iconic designers' most important or influential looks." Better than a poor vintage selection would have been a tour of the Met’s current Model as Muse exhibit (see earlier post here). Haven and Reco in particular might have learned from this recreation of a Studio 54-era “VIP Room.”
In the Either/Or section of DG Q&A interviews, we ask, “Armani or Versace?” In the 1990s, those two designers represented contrasting aesthetics, both associated with but not the same as glamour: the elegant, understated luxury of Giorgio Armani (who, unlike Fashion Show's icons, is still living) and the flash and sexuality of Gianni Versace. Each is glamorous in the eyes of some audiences, not so to others. The Met’s ’70s tableau offers another contrasting choice: Yves Saint Laurent or Halston. It’s a great demonstration that glamour can take many different stylistic forms, even in the same historical context. (The tableau also reminds people like me, who tend to think of ’70s fashion as a glamour-free zone, that those who associate the decade with glamour aren’t entirely nuts.)
Here we see two contrasting, but equally glamorous, visions, both offering escape and transformation. YSL’s plays with exoticism, ornamentation, and idealized peasant forms—mythical historicism. Halston, by contrast, promises to make the wearer streamlined and modern. Both aim at seduction, YSL with flowing fabrics that brush the body but don’t display it, Halston with elegant but body-conscious fit. In keeping with the times, both styles appear to require few undergarments and permit easy removal. (The bizarre head gear is part of the museum display.)
I received the following unironic pitch from a publicist who shall remain nameless:
New York is out, and New Jersey is in—or so the viewers seem to say. Bravo has hit ratings gold with its latest reality show Real Housewives of New Jersey, garnering more than 3.5 million viewers for the show’s season finale—the highest-rated finale in the Housewives franchise history. The popularity of the show has sparked a national interest in New Jersey, and has succeeded in re-branding the state as a place in America that can be undoubtedly filled with glitz and glamour.
From the opulent mansions to the housewives’ toned, tanned bodies, this latest installment of Housewives has made Jersey hot again. And with help from [client's name omitted], a New Jersey-based plastic surgeon, anyone can get a Housewives body. Dr. [omitted] offers a full selection of services, from the minimally-invasive Jersey Mini Tummy Tuck to breast augmentation to thigh lifts.
I would love to set up a time for you to speak with [client] to further discuss his New Jersey-based services, as well as other trends in plastic surgery. I look forward to hearing from you.
Call me crazy, but I don’t think the popularity of Real Housewives is based on a longing to be like them. Alessandra Stanley's description, “a buzzkill for viewers hooked on the free-floating vulgarity,” is more apt. These women are ridiculous, not glamorous. A plastic surgeon who thinks they’re role models is a plastic surgeon to stay away from.
Men and women, being from Mars and Venus and all that, often perceive glamour in different ways, and seek glamour in different types of stories. However, one type of tale that appeals to both sexes is that of international intrigue – dashing men, beautiful women, dazzling jewels, high-tech tools and exotic locales. These elements have been incorporated into thousands of stories, from The Thomas Crown Affairto the entire James Bond collection.
We’ve written a lot here about princesses, fairy tales, and the roots of little girl glamour. Little boys construct their own worlds full of glamour, often drawing on cars and buildings and superheroes to tell their stories. Like their grown-up counterparts, the two narratives have things in common–they share themes of self-reliance and aesthetic beauty and the joy of escape–but they look pretty different from the outside.
It's not surprising then that children’s programmers, in an effort to develop shows that appeal to kids of both genders, turn to 007 himself for inspiration. A few years ago, the creators of the Nickelodeon show "The Backyardigans" produced an hour-long movie called The Backyardigans - Super Secret Super Spy. It came complete with a dramatic villainess and juice boxes that are shaken–never stirred. My son was a baby when it aired, too young for TV, but I loved it.
Recently, The Disney Channel has picked up where Nick left off, with “Special Agent Oso,” an animated series chronicling the training missions and “special assignments” of Oso, a stuffed bear who moonlights as an international special agent, helping kids solve problems like learning how to play hopscotch or tie their shoes.
Every element of the series draws from Bond, from episode titles (“Carousel Royale,” “Live and Let Dry” ) to swirling graphics and classic “spy” music to Oso’s reliance on cool gadgets. The show’s creator, Ford Riley, was inspired to create Oso after his young son was entranced by his first glimpse of a real James Bond movie, making me wonder if we’re all hardwired to be thrilled by certain types of glamour.
Special Agent Oso and other kids’ spy shows bridge the gender gap, but they also span another gap that might be just as important–the generational one. Most parents I know have a fairly low threshold for kids’ TV. There’s only so much Dora one adult human can take. But Oso is somehow different. Even as a grown-up, I connect with that little stuffed bear.
Sean Astin, who voices Oso, says, “I should probably be embarrassed by the fact that I feel that by some extension, secret agent status has now been conferred upon me personally.” I know my son, now 2 1/2, feels the same way. And, come to think of it, so do I.
As DeepGlamour’s newest mother (my son is two and a half), I do a lot of thinking about the way having a child has affected my capacity for glamour – usually at the same time I’m worrying that my jeans are veering rapidly into “mom” territory.
Like DG interviewee Maureen Kelly, I find myself paying close attention to the glamorous moms out there.
A while back, Virginia wrote about the original glamorous mom, Mary, full of serenity and grace. A generation ago, mothers like Jackie Kennedy captured the public’s imagination. Kennedy’s iconic beauty and elegance stood in sharp contrast to other glamorous female icons of the era, most noticeably, Marilyn Monroe (Mad Men’s fictional ad wizards immortalized this difference in their proposed campaign for Playtex bras, asking ‘Are you a Jackie or a Marilyn?’).
Today’s noticeably glamorous mother figures, celebrities like Angelina Jolie, Halle Berry, and (my favorite) India Hicks, are less pure examples of saintly motherhood and more reallife mixtures of fabulous woman and loving mom.
With all of these ideals of glamorous motherhood, it’s difficult to choose one as best, though I do lean towards the modern mix. For me, having a child has sharpened the distinctions between real life and glamorous fantasy. Where in my pre-kid life, dressing up for dinner or a night out was a regular, run-of-the-mill event, these days, on the occasions I have to dress up, put on heels and makeup and something other than eau de Play-Doh, I’m especially conscious of how I look and feel. I lay it on a little thicker. My heels are getting higher and my perfume’s getting stronger – but my skirts are getting just a little bit longer, too.
Maybe that’s the luxury of being a modern mother – we get to be Jackie, but have our Marilyn, too.
[Image: Dyna Moe's depiction of the Jackie vs. Marilyn campaign. Used with permission.]
Guest blogger Peter LiCalsi is a screenwriter in Los Angeles who has done work in production design and art direction. You can contact him at peterlicalsi-at-gmail.com.
One of my guilty pleasures is the "reality" show, The Hills, in which a cadre of vapid beautiful people (the millennial Bright Young Things, though not all that bright) are given the skeleton of scenes which loosely resemble events actually unfolding in their own lives, and improvise accordingly. We are meant to believe that the scenes played out are the actual lives of those stars, or personalities. What unfolds can be a banal and trite soap opera, but more often than not the scenes themselves are surreal and voyeuristic. The fourth wall is never broken, yet what remains--or rather, what is allowed to remain--are the awkward pauses, the stuttering, the bizarre locutions and facial gestures, the run-ons, and the fragments that are rife within, yes ... reality.
In film, the vérité technique has been used to great effect to illustrate that a subject needn't be editorialized to be compelling. Much of the most famous vérité work has sought to depict the mundane. The Hills, by contrast, uses a vérité lens to examine traditionally "glamorous" subjects. The young, beautiful, and affluent are seen in all their glory--attending nightclubs, buying expensive clothes, staying at resorts, and jet setting to Vegas one weekend, Cabo the next. Yet they are robbed of an essential element of glamour: grace.
This combination of glamorous subject matter and graceless presentation is derivative of many of the films from Andy Warhol's Factory. Indeed, much of reality television seems to be Warhol's legacy: Warhol's famous “15 minutes of fame” idea is predicated on the notion that fame per se is a cultural commodity, with value independent of any deeper association. The rise of the reality show, the faux-reality show, YouTube, etc.--these owe a great deal to Warhol's insistence that simply focusing the eye toward a subject can imbue it with artistic and commercial value.
Among these, The Hills is quite special. It dispenses with the grace, eloquence, and comportment that are typically granted to attractive, affluent characters in western pop culture. In doing so it confirms, intentionally or not, Warhol's point that beauty validates itself indefinitely. And fame validates beauty eternally. Perhaps we miss the point when we agonize that Lauren, Audrina, Brody, and The Whole Sick Crew probably couldn't master long division, and are thus not worthy of mass adulation. They are works of art to be observed, nothing more--the descendants of the Campbell’s Soup Can.
More pointedly, it’s difficult to watch Warhol's Poor Little Rich Girl, the hour-long film of heiress Edie Sedgwick preparing for a party, musing on about her reckless spending habits, rock and roll, and fur coats, and not recognize some happenstance lineage to The Hills. Warhol expanded upon Keats's "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” making beauty an acceptable tenet of art after the deconstructionism of the previous half-century. The Hills is one of the many chapters in the battleground of glamour and reason, one that says we can have our cake and look at it too.
Paramount recently released the poster for the new Star Trek movie, opening May 8. The black and white composition and almost abstract suggestion of speed make an interesting contrast to the clear forms and primary colors of the original show.
Long-time DG readers may remember this quotation, comparing James Bond and Mr. Spock, from Jeff Greenwald's 1999 book Future Perfect: How Star Trek Conquered Planet Earth. Like Ayn Rand's novels, Star Trek traffics in glamour that appeals to people who generally think they're immune to such frivolous nonsense (and, conversely, whose obsessions seem decidedly unglamorous to most of the fashion crowd). Greenwald's book has a number of good passages that deal with Star Trek's glamour, without using the word. Here's one of the best, which follows his girlfriend's insight that the book "is about longing," the subject of all glamour:
When I began this book, I naively imagined that everyone I spoke to would echo my own intuition: that Star Trek has become successful because it awakens a collective human yearning to get out into space and explore the “final frontier” in earnest. A number of people on my list did indeed feel this way—but they were in the minority. Star Trek, I learned, inspires longings of many kinds. It’s a mirror that people tune like a radio, focusing on the aspects that attract them most.
Star Trek invokes an almost primal wanderlust—a hardwired compulsion to break away from the familiar, and plumb the depths of outer and inner space. It inspires a desire to build a society where technology is partnered with conscience. It evokes a yearning for family and friendship, which is played out in a thousand different fan clubs and Web sites around the world. And it fulfills a deep and eternal need for something to believe in: something vast and powerful, yet rational and contemporary. Something that makes sense.
One of the trailers for the new Star Trek movie features someone’s voice telling young Jim Kirk, “You’ve always had a hard time finding a place in this world, haven’t you? Never knowing your true worth. You can settle for something less, an ordinary life. Or do you feel like you were meant for something better? Something special.” In the trailer, that enticing suggestion accompanies this evocative shot, which beautifully captures both the centrality of the individual and the longing to belong to something larger than oneself:
The promise of becoming someone special is at the heart of much glamour, from the allure of beautiful dresses to the appeal of the U.S. Marine Corps. Particularly for people who feel out of place in their surrounding community, the idea of belonging to an ideal fellowship (Camelot's Round Table, Ayn Rand's Galt's Gulch, the Enterprise crew) is particularly powerful—and, as Greenwald documents, able to sustain real-world fellowship among devotees who share the same enthusiasm.
According to Page Six, movie star/trophy wife/waterglass warrior Ellen Barkin will executive produce and star in a pilot for HBO. Somehow, execs there set aside thinking "out of the box" and decided that Barkin's considerable talents are best used by having her play herself. The premise:
A woman, "famous for her high-profile marriage, who divorces and re-enters the singles market"
And who better to help navigate these waters? Shauna Cross, writer of the novel Derby Girl and subsequent movie, Whip It, starring Drew Barrymore. Writers fall in and out of fashion faster than Opi polish colors, and Cross can't be blamed for taking everything that comes her way. (Diablo Cody is busy, thanks.) No doubt, dating in Manhattan is like roller derby.
Seasoned actresses are be grateful for small favors, though, and the idea of a woman over 50 on TV who's not clutching a dish towel is a reason to rejoice. Barkin's best when she's a sort of updated Lauren Bacall, all low tones and tawny tresses, but she's got an edge like cracked concrete. Seems a pity to waste her on a character who's all too reminiscent of Sex in the City, Lipstick Jungle, Cashmere Mafia et al.
I'd rather see her as--oh I don't know--the tough head of an interstate trucking company (High Heels and 18 Wheels) or an ex-wife of an outed politician (Arianna McGreevey!), or a much-loved symbol of a beleagured food conglomerate (Mrs. Butterworth Fights Back) or the widow of a rock idol, fighting his kids for his musical legacy (Priscilla vs. the Love Kids). Anything but a woman dating.
In Sunday's NYT, Manohla Dargis and A.O. Scott offered up a seemingly comprehensive dissection of the ways in which Hollywood has, since the days of Sidney Poitier, given us archetypes of the black male hero: the Black Everyman, the Black Outlaw, the Black Provocateur, the Black Father, the Black Yoda, and the Black Messiah.
But they forgot one important recurring role: the Black Techie or, if you prefer, the Black Geek. These guys are everywhere in TV shows and movies, programming computers and setting explosives. (I'm not even counting the many doctors.)
With all due respect to Geordi, the greatest black techie was, in my estimation, Dr. Miles Hawkins, the Reed Richards-meets-Tom Sowell protagonist of the short-lived superhero series M.A.N.T.I. S., who played by Carl Lumbly. (Now that the surprisingly glamorous white ubernerd Gil Grissom has left CSI, maybe Laurence Fishburne has a shot at at creating a new prototype of the black supergeek. Given his character's medical training, however, it will be hard to beat Omar Epps on House. And I did say I wasn't counting the doctors.)
Now black nerds are hardly a cultural stereotype. What gives?
One explanation is simply imitation. The Ur-black techie was, of course, the original Mission Impossible's immortal Barney Collier, played by Greg Morris, who reprised the role in three episodes of the remade 1988 series (which featured his son Phil Morris, who, like Lumbly has also played Martian Manhunter J'onn J'onzz). Maybe Barney was so memorable that he imprinted Hollywood with a new casting stereotype, à la Louis Gossett Jr.'s Gunnery Sergeant Emil Foley in An Officer and a Gentleman.
But where did Barney come from? Why, in 1966, would a TV series feature a black man as its team's technical expert?
I suspect Barney came from the same impulse that in 1977 led my high school's senior class play to cast a black student as the boss in Meet Me in St. Louis. That selection wasn't an attempt at verisimilitude--not many white professionals had black bosses in 1903 St. Louis--nor was my South Carolina drama department devoted to color-blind casting (though the student in question did a fine job). No, the reason was that the boss had no visible family: no wife, no kids, no romantic entanglements. He was non-threatening because sexually neutral.
And who could be more non-threatening and sexually neutral than a techie?
That makes Joe Morton's Dr. Miles Bennett Dyson a breakthrough role. Not only does he create (and destroy) Skynet. He actually has a wife and son.
Now if only they made that horrible Terminator 3.
(In The Sarah Connor Chronicles, the TV spinoff of the Terminator movies, Miles Dyson appears only in a photo, where he is portrayed by Phil Morris. So he, too, is a son of Barney.)
The world will soon have its first gay superhero. I know, I thought that was Tom Ford, too, but this is the fictional kind. Or rather, the graphic novel kind. (Did I mention going to an estate sale and buying a copy of Suckin' Truckin' Super-studs? Remind me, sometime--it's graphic as hell.) Actually it's the comic book kind.
Stan Lee will unveil his newest creation, high school basketball whiz and closeted crimefighter, Thom Creed, in a series for Showtime, based on Perry Moore's novel, Hero.
The Gay League forums aren't exactly buzzing about this, but maybe it's old news to them. Creed's superpowers include the ability to heal people and an uncanny way with accessories.
Elle has hired Creative Artists to help insinuate the glossy rag-mag into more TV and film productions. As if whoring the staff on CW's Stylista wasn't enough. Since Project Runway's Nina Garcia isn't on the masthead now and Stylista isn't likely to come back, what's a public-conscious editrix to do?
Magazines on TV aren't all that new--the National Enquirer tried, a zillion years ago, and TV Guide has its own lonely little cable channel. Gourmet and Real Simple have PBS shows (your tax dollars at play), and Seventeen, Rolling Stone, and Car and Driver have all hosted reality shows, Elle's publishers must think there's still room at the trough. And the mag isn't likely to follow Sport's Illustrated's Swimsuit edition lead.
Personally, I think the best bet for Elle is through writers and production designers, rather than suits. Instead of going for the obvious--Gossip Girl, Ugly Betty etc., work the name into unexpected shows. On My Name is Earl, Jason Lee's character could pick Elle as his favorite bathroom reading matter. Or shooting a little higher, maybe Turtle of Entourage could get a gig writing a dating advice column?
America's Next Top Model might have jumped the shark last night. Winner of cycle 11, McKey is a 6 foot tall, 20 year old from Lake Forest, Illinois. (Born Brittany Sullivan, which is so not a a model name.) She might actually be a real model.
Television Without Pity readers pegged her right from the start.
(And to complete the whole cycle, Tyra's giving Isis sex re-assignment surgery, which should be good for another special or maybe even a whole series.)
On April 5, 2003, a landmine exploded beneath a U.S. Army convoy in Iraq, tossing a truck into the air and burning its driver, Cpl. J.R. Martinez, over some 40 percent of his body.
The Army transported Martinez to a military hospital in German, then to another one near San Antonio, Texas. In all, Martinez spent more than 34 months in the hospital, much of it with his mother, Maria Zuvala, by his side.
Martinez told his hometown newspaper, Dalton, Georgia's The Daily Citizenthat while lying in his hospital bed he developed a storyline in his head about a man who is the victim of a terrible accident and the gorgeous girlfriend who comes to the hospital to see him. When she arrives, she finds Martinez lying in the bed. It was a dramatic scenario right out of one of the many soap operas his mother watched while caring for him. Martinez admits he finally got caught up in the shows and joked to his mother that he'd be on one of them one day.
I first met Martinez several months after that accident, on his first trip home since he joined the Army. I found a young man deeply touched that thousands in this small town had come out to greet him after his arrival. As Martinez spoke to them, seemingly trying to personally thank each person there, the scars on his face could not hide his buoyant personality and easy smile.
The Daily Citizen kept up with Martinez over the next few years, it seemed that everyone--from Oprah to People magazine to fellow Daltonian Deborah Norville--wanted to talk to him and tell his story.
By 2008, Martinez had left the Army and was working as an activist for veterans and their families. He heard from a friend that the daytime soap All My Children was looking for a real-life Iraq vet to play the love interest of one of the female characters on the show, Taylor Thompson.
After several interviews and a screen test, he learned in September he had gotten the part of Brot Monroe. Monroe and Thompson met and fell in love while serving in Iraq. Thompson believed Monroe had been killed in battle. But Monroe shows up one day, alive but badly scarred, and all of the usual soap opera complications begin.
Obviously, the world of daytime soap operas is one of glamour and drama. But Martinez says his presence brings a dose of reality to the show.
“We’re educating and building awareness for veterans that are actually day to day experiencing these obstacles and slowly just trying to get their lives back into one piece,” Martinez told his hometown newspaper. “It’s not easy to do. The fact that we’re able to do it in a way that’s not in your face, in a way it’s a nice love story, but at the same time it’s reminding people that, ‘Hey, that J.R. guy isn’t in makeup. That’s real.’ And what’s going on in the world is real as well.”
Style Network has an unexpected hit in Ruby, the story of a 457 lb. woman and her journey through weight loss. The series debuted on Sunday with 545,00 viewers, making it the the network's highest-rated series debut ever.
Ruby Gettinger the star of the series, is a genuine Southern charmer. Living in Savannah, she's got friends, (one of whom, actress Brittany Daniel, sold the series to Style), two cute dogs, a nephew, and an ex-boyfriend. And a nutritionist, therapist, doctor and trainer. Gay Rosenthal is the executive producer, and her company gave us Little People, Big World, another unscripted series with unlikely but sympathetic subjects.
Considering how often Style and sister-net E! come close to soft-core (Girls Next Door, Kardashians), Ruby is quite a departure for the cable channels. She's probably the only Sunday school teacher to get a reality series. Television Without Pity regulars like the show, but predict that she'll get surgery.
Glamour means different things to different people, which might account for this opportunity of a lifetime: New York Comic Con and MTV want to cast a fanboy or girl for a segment in the True Life docu-series.
Applicants, who must appear to be 16 to 28 years old, can express their love for comic books, anime, fantasy or manga by dressing up as a favorite character at New York Comic Con and letting themselves be stalked by an MTV True Life production crew. (Emphasis on appear--as well as appearing normal, but not over muchly so.) Apply here.
Applicants need to think long and hard about the effects this appearance might have upon future employment and romantic relationships. Dressing up as Hellboy or King Leonaidas could do wonders for even the biggest geek; parading around as the cancer patient from Fanboys will ensure a lifetime of misery.
Speaking of Hellboy--you know what they say--big hands, big gloves.
Stylista, the newest reality competition show on The CW, debuted last night. Humiliated hopefuls vie for a lowly job at Elle. Fashion mag editors are now obligated to be imperious, capricious, and talk funny. Anne Slowey made the role her own by her amusing inability to walk in high heels.
I worked at a fashion magazine one summer. Actually, I'd entered the MademoiselleGuest Editorcontest, but as I'd worked in the rag trade (receptionist/fit model for a 7th Ave. firm) the summer before, I was disqualified. Luckily, Mary Cantwell read my stuff, liked it, and offered me a real job, which by summer's end, convinced me that fashion journalism was not my calling. But that was long ago, in another country, and besides, the wench is dead. (For the record, I frequently fetched coffee, but never breakfast, and certainly not breakfast with a little scented candle on a tray.)
Stylistacompetitors aren't any worse than those on any other shows. There's the Ugly Betty chubby girl with actual style, a boutique-owning bitch, a guy with a Brit accent who dresses like an extra in Oliver!, and a bunch of others. One blond is named Cologne, and I was waiting for the "Oh, Duh!" moment, but it never came.
Last night's episode should have killed any lingering ideas about women dressing to attract potential partners. Kate, an ex-law student, sports a decotellage that distresses some of her fellows (unsurprisingly, no straight men appear on the show) and Elle's fashion director. You'd think someone would have the wit to suggest she go into ad sales. She gets all weepy about covering up. Who says big boobs aren't a means of self-expression?
Like the Rolling Stone show, the Car and Driver show, the Seventeen magazine show, and MTV's student newspaper show, watching would-be journalists isn't very exciting. (To be fair, the student paper show did have great characters, full of venom.) The producers here downplay the process and stress the bitchy interaction and asides. Why PBS doesn't produce a "I Want to Edit The New Yorker" reality series is beyond me.
Considering all the downsizing in the magazine world, perhaps the lucky ones get cut early.
Can "television for women" tell a story about science? Tonight, Lifetime tries with Living Proof, the story of my hero Dr. Dennis Slamon, the UCLA oncologist behind the biotech drug Herceptin. Based on the melodramatic trailer, I'm not optimistic. But since I may owe my life to the drug--it raised my chances of surviving breast cancer from 50% to 95%--I've got the Tivo set. (The movie repeats Sunday and Monday nights.)
But the LAT is not encouraging: "'Living Proof' is good only in a moral sense." I'm not even sure about the moral sense, since, if the LAT is to be believed, the movie gratuitously bashes Genentech, the company whose extremely risky bet on Herceptin turned research into reality (and a lot of profits--but that's with benefit of hindsight).
The Boston Globe is kinder: "Of course it's earnest. Of course it lacks subtlety. Of course you'll shed a tear at some point....[A]ll Lifetime movies about major illnesses are required to move the viewer at all costs. It's TV law.
Variety sums up my expectations: "'Living Proof' rises above most Lifetime movie fare." But it still "attacks its subject matter with unapologetic sentimentality."
Project Runway's season finale aired last night, to a sort of general meh? attitude. The Minx has the funniest thought balloons.
Portland-based designer Leanne Marshall won, with a collection inspired by waves, which was pretty enough, but what woman wants more fabric around her hips?
Winner of the first season, Jay McCarroll hints that leathah girl Stella and her beau, Rat Bones, might get their own series.
Keen observers noticed ANTM's Bianca Golden on the runway. She's facing assault charges in conjunction with a weird airplane incident involving her family and Nikki Blonsky. If only she'd punched someone in the front row. WWF meets PR?
Jeffrey Goldberg at The Atlanticspeculated about a Sarah Palin reality show, but you can tell he's not really familiar with the parameters of the genre. (Ophelia Swims came closer.) For a really successful series, you need an attractive protagonist (because they come into your home, every week), a lively and diverse supporting cast, and a location or situation in which conflict, resolution, and emotion can bloom.
North of 60 with Sarah
In this new reality series, former candidate for Vice-President, Alaskan Gov. Sarah Palin, a forty-ish, flirty mother of 5 (!), juggles affairs of state, lost homework, disgruntled constituents, injunction-waving lawyers, wedding planning, and putting meat on the table. Think docu-drama meets C-Span, shot on location in the wilds of the frozen north.
In the first episode, spunky Sarah vetos anti-gill net legislation and an extended curfew for Willow with equal aplomb. Piper stows away on a float plane, but a quick thinking state trooper has her home for dinner.
Future episodes include a show-down between Sarah and Putin over fishing rights that's soon eclipsed by the furor raised by Bristol's determination to have a vegan wedding buffet.
Later, French premier Sarkozy shows up for a fly-fishing lesson--without his wife! Thanks to an emergency international call, the First Dude saves the day.
Sounds almost real, doesn't it? Have your people call my people. (Looks like cameras are rolling!)
Anthropologie, the retail chain, will be a series on Sundance. Or rather, Keith Johnson, the store's found goods buyer, is the subject of Man Shops Globe. Produced by World of Wonder, the series follows Johnson as he wanders the high ways and buy-ways of the globe. Jeremy Simmons is directing the series, and blogs about his adventures:
In Keith's world, everything is available for purchase. Its not just
the bracelets that the lady is selling, but maybe her sari, or perhaps
the shelves on which they lay. Where most of us direct our attention
to what is displayed in a store, Keith sees it all. He buys signage
used to advertising a sale, lighting fixtures, carts used to haul the
merchandise - anything is potentially a new product. It's the ability
to see things that one would normally edit out - and envision it in a
totally different way. Keith thinks of his job as an editor -
distilling down a mountain of merchandise to the very best of the
best - but really, he is opening up my world. I had been
subconsciously editing things so many things out.
Are you trying to glamour me? --Sookie, episode 103, Mine
Alan Ball's new series for HBO, True Blood, is sort of Buffy meets Black Snake Moan, as imagined by the love child of Truman Capote and Tennessee Williams. It's steamy down there on the bayou.
Vampires glamour their prey by a sort of hypnosis method, or something like that--it's an inexact science. Our heroine, Sookie, is immune, but not to the other charms or a certain vampire.
If you're not watching Whatever, Martha!, you're hopeless, to be frank. This Fine Living series is the mashed up version of old Martha Stewart shows --MST3K for the silver-polish set. It's hosted by Stewart's daughter, Alexis, and her radio-mate, Jennifer Koppelman Hutt. Andrew Goldman's piece in NY mag has the whole saga, with the best quotes I've read in ages, from Alexis Stewart on various topics, including her mother's deal at Sirius radio:
I said if they would hire Howard Stern, then they would hire a felon.
Rachel Ray:
She’s annoying, and she eats shit out of a can.
and Nina Garcia:
Pretending to know everything about beauty, meanwhile looking like this weird chinless monster.
Lifetime offers up a Chanel MOW which got bad reviews a month or two ago. All you need to know is what Lifetime's website tells you:
"Coco Chanel" is the rags-to-riches tale charting the rise of one of the most influential fashion icons of the 20th century. From her humble childhood in a French orphanage, through her early days as a young dressmaker's assistant, to her passionate and tragic love with a dashing Englishman, and ultimately to her success as a pioneering icon, "Coco Chanel" is the story of a glamorous woman who was hard to love and harder to ignore.
Somehow, I think I can ignore this with little or no effort.
Shirley MacLaine's a natural choice as she'd played a French streetwalker in Irmala Douce and thus, could manage the lingo. According to the NY Post, her accent slips like a supermodel on the catwalk.
MacLaine, ever the sensitive one, launched her own jewelry line, after being inspired by Chanel's jewels. Although I doubt that Mlle. ever said this:
The jewellery goes on the tops of the fingers, and these are all reflections of the chakras and our inner power.
DeepGlamour explores the magic of glamour in its many manifestations, from movies, fashion, advertising, and cars to real estate, politics, sports, and travel.
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