Great Book, Great Movie

I had the strangest encounter yesterday. I was out and about doing errands -- usual stuff, you know, Target, car wash, grocery store -- and at one of my usual pit stops, I had an older guy (read: Dad-age) ask me if my tee shirt was promo'ing the new Baz Lurhmann movie, The Great Gatsby, since I was wearing my Gatsby tee shirt. To which I said, "no, I'm promo'ing the book.  I'm all for literacy!" His reaction? To look at me like I was weird. Dear Reader, I ask you, who was being the weirdo? A girl who is wearing an obvious ode to F. Scott Fitzgerald's greatest novel featuring the jacket illustration from the Scribner edition, or a guy who is my dad's age staring at my chest asking me if I'm promo'ing a movie that has been moved from Christmas 2012 to May 2013 starring Leo DiCaprio and Carrie Mulligan (and which I freely admit, looks pretty fantastic and I will see opening weekend probably wearing said tee shirt)? This is the kind of thing that is only confusing in Hollywood...

Anyway, if you want to promo the movie or the book or just plain literacy, I highly suggest out-of-print clothing. I own both the Gatsby and Pride and Prejudice tee shirts and will be probably be purchasing The Color Purple because it's both an excellent book and movie not to mention that purple v-necks look exceptionally good on me. But it's also a pretty good spot to find a little Christmas/Hanukkah something for that one literary friend or family member. If you live in the L.A. area, Out of Print clothing is carried at the Los Angeles Central Library! Awesomeness all the way around. (Except for the guy staring at my chest in the produce aisle. Creeper.)

Her Holiday

If we took a holiday
Took some time to celebrate
Just one day out of life
It would be, it would be sooo nice!

Oh, I'm sorry. I can't write the word "holiday" without having a Madonna flashback, lace gloves, neon yellow pants, and my favorite round brush-microphone included.  Whatever happened to those pants? I could've used them today.  Hm...anywho! It's Halloween which has grown into the second largest consumer holiday in America after Christmas. And I noticed this year that TV has doubled down on the action. Meaning, you can't turn on a show the week proceeding Halloween (or any holiday for that matter) without your favorite sit-com surrogate family doing an ode. I'd like you think back, o'dear Reader, to a time before Friends Thanksgiving specials starring Mr. Jennifer Aniston when the only special episodes were of the "very special" variety like when Matthew Perry was Carol Seaver's alcoholic boyfriend on Growing Pains or Blossom teaching us all about teen sex. (Jersey Shore has made all that moot, hasn't it?) And while many of the shows did the obligatory Christmas epi and a random Valentine's special, for the most part, the other holidays got short shrift. According to Wikipedia, The Cosby Show did two Halloween episodes in their eight years, but I can't remember 'em. How about Family Ties? Anyone...? Modern Family, however, set it up very early in the series that Halloween was Clare Dunphy's favorite holiday, so now we can look forward to Modern Family Halloween specials every year.  However, something else happened within the landscape of TV: a spike in shows created, written, and show-run (ran?) by women. What happens when you mix Halloween with Girl Power? See if you can spot the trend...

Did you see:

New Girl? The star of the show dressed as Zombie Woody Allen. The model was dressed as an angel. The third female was dressed as "Reigning" Cats and Dogs. Nick as "Bee" Arthur and Schmidt as Young Abe Lincoln or Matthew McConaughey in Magic Mike.

Suburgatory? I thought Barbie and Ken and little sister Skipper was funny, loved the shout-out to the Scooby gang, but the feminist/witch was hilarious!

Ben and Kate? Babe Ruth Baders-Ginsberg? As Kate would say, "wha...t?" Madame Curie and the billion princesses with one particular princess causing BJ to rush to Maddie's bedside to tell a story about the importance of not following the crowd.

The Mindy Kaling Project? Mindy showing up at the last minute as Diane Chambers from Cheers after being told that she had to "bring it" to the ESPN costume party.

Give up? First, shout out to all the meta costumes. They were all over the Halloween specials. Even Modern Family had it's "Sugar Daddy" and a very cute "Angel" and Devil pun. I think Raising Hope made a tongue-in-cheek joke about Shannon Woodward's height (again) when they dressed her as a gnome not mention the "is it a costume or is it a sex toy?" wink they threw in. Which brings me to point number two: The obvious mocking of "sexy" Halloween. New Girl didn't address it all. Suburgatory went for the juggler and scoffed at it. "I'm thinking of going as 'sexy skunk.'" Is it just me or is there one vowel difference between "skunk" and "skank"? Coincidence? I'll leave that up to you. Ben and Kate flat out said that the costume choices for females go from princesses to whores. And poor Mindy knew that bringing "it" to an ESPN party was code for hot and sexy which caused a mini-Mindy breakdown. "Cut a cleavage hole in my crayon costume." And where did all the sexy costumes go? Well, if they showed up at all, they ended up on the men. Schmidt in his red Speedo and black socks. Burt dressing as the gay Mailman from the Village People (you needed to have seen the epi to understand it). For the most part, the shows were just funny. Halloween was utilized to explore emotional arenas for Nick (the Haunted House was code for commitment), Mindy's own insecurities, Kate's fear of bringing up a daughter in a society that objectifies women, and even an opportunity for the Chance family to get their gay on. All in all, kudos all around! If they keep this up, I might overlook the fact that we're being forced to a consumerist mind-set pre-holidays.

Happy Halloween, Readers! I hope you're able to enjoy the holiday.  (ooo, yeah! ooo, yeah!... uck, damn Madonna.)

I Need a Hero

During Comic Con weekend (July 12th to 15th), I wrote a post, but did not post it as I felt that my thesis was flimsy. The post was about the rise of the comic book movie and why we as a society flock to see these films at a time of moral and patriotic discontent. I posited, in this unseen post, that We, the People have suffered a decade-long war effort in the Middle East and the corroding effects of a never-ending economic downturn which have necessitated our need to believe in something good, and that the current socio-economic zeitgeist has turned us all into cape crusading believers.  Unfortunately, I am too well-read for my own good and began to think about the Great Depression and Shirley Temple, and the rise of comic books by Jewish immigrants in response to Hitler's rise in Nazi Germany, and realized that my argument was specious: People have always just gone to the movies and turned to comic books for escapism and, quite frankly, just something to believe in.  In other words, this was nothing new.... But then Aurora, Colorado happened, I began to think about comic book movies all over again.

This is not a screed about the violence in comic book movies. Nor is it a petition to revisit the Second Amendment and what our Forefathers really meant about arming a militia. But it is a request to reframe the psychology that seems to be at play. First, we need to stop calling it "The Batman Shooting." I do not work for Warner Bros., D.C., or any affiliation thereof.  I do not know, nor am I affiliated with, anyone that worked on the movies.  But calling it the "Batman Shooting" or the "Batman Killing" is salacious. It was a tragedy. We don't have to link it to a major movie franchise to get people to tune-in at eleven. Yes, it did happen during a screening of the new Batman movie. Yes, James Holmes did identify himself as "the Joker." But the movie was a conduit for Holmes to express his psychosis not the motivation. So, please stop.  (Additionally, there's the Kent State Shooting, the Virginia Tech Shooting, the Columbine Shooting, and even the Amish School Shooting. This, sadly, is not a one-off. In each and every one of these massacres, we've tried to figure out the pop culture motivation -- bullying! video games! too much pressure on students to succeed! gun culture! -- and the fact of the matter is: these men were mentally ill. If we keep trying to reduce and simplify mental disorders into broader cultural issues that we can legislate, regulate, and detect with metal detectors, we will never get this under control.) The news that weekend, however, couldn't get enough of the "Batman Shooting." Would it harm ticket sales?! What does the NRA have to say?! What was the last thing Jessica Ghawi tweeted?! The line between Life and Art and the imitation of one of the other started to blur indecipherably for all of us. What was real? What was news? What wasn't? A little boy dressed as Batman being ushered out of the theater while there was a real "Joker" with real guns inside felt like theater of the absurd.

I did not go to see THE DARK KNIGHT RISING opening weekend. Not because I was worried, but because despite the shootings, I knew the theaters were still going to be packed. So I waited a week and went with a friend to a small theater that's situated to a much larger, IMAX theater, assuming that it wouldn't be quite as jammed. I was right. There was about thirty of us in the theater. The movie began to roll and during some of the louder explosions, there were flashes of light that seemed to be coming from behind us. Was this something to do with the projection? Were people coincidentally coming in-and-out of the theater letting in the outside light? What the hell is that?! I suddenly realized that I felt nervous which was absolutely ridiculous. (Full disclosure: I'm an ex-cop. The chances of a copy cat shooting on that night in that theater was probably more than a million to one. I know this. And yet....) I realized that the Holmes shooting did play into my enjoyment of the film. I'm usually all for surrendering my disbelief and sinking into the world that the movie makers have created for me. But, I couldn't. Not in that movie, not on that night. And maybe because of it, I suddenly realized how absolutely ridiculous Batman is. And once that happened, I couldn't help but to watch the rest of the movie with a skeptic's eye. Christian Bale's black eye makeup, the way the rubber rippled on the Bat suit, Tom Hardy's Darth Vader-like mask and how ADR must have been a bitch on that. As I walked out the door, I asked my friend what she thought. She shrugged her shoulders. I shrugged mine.  But then I started to think about my unpublished blog post. What did I write about the rise of the comic book movie and our unending appetite for them? I went home and checked it out.

I wrote something about nihilism, something about comedy, and a bit about platforms, and after listing the current movie titles -- which included MAGIC MIKE, TED, and SPIDER-MAN -- I wrote this on July 14th:

"It's the last [movie title, SPIDER-MAN] that made me think about this trend, especially as my Facebook Friends are at Comic-Con and posting about THE DARK KNIGHT RISING and SUPERMAN and how Wonder Woman might make an appearance in THE MAN OF STEEL (which would be awesome! Let screaming casting skirmishes ensue) in preparation for the JUSTICE LEAGUE film, DC's answer to Marvel's AVENGERS. Not to mention all the IRONMAN 3, CAPTAIN AMERICA 2, and THOR 2 articles that grace Variety and Hollywood Reporter. 

And suddenly it occurred to me that contemporary Art -- in regards to film, anyway -- is really about waiting for someone to come and save us."

Hmm....

On July 20th, James Holmes shot up a movie theater. Is it ironic that we continue to pilgrimage to the cinema waiting for a movie hero to come and save us, and the thing that showed up was the villain?

The Future of Hollywood

A couple of girlfriends and I went to see MAGIC MIKE on Independence Day. Because what says American patriot more than sexually exploiting Channing Tatum? Not much, in my book! About a third into the movie, Andie leaned over and asked if the lead actress was Elvis Presley's granddaughter.

"No," I replied. "Her daddy is the head of a studio."

Her being Cody Horn, and "her daddy" being Alan Horn, chairman of Walt Disney Studios.

About twenty minutes later, Riley Keough appears on screen as a pink-haired party girl. Riley's mom is Lisa Marie Presley; Lisa Marie's daddy, of course, is Elvis.  This got me to thinking about all the other Hollywood kids that are shaping the current movie industry landscape, and the ones that always come up in casting sessions as being "so-n-so's kid."


A trailer in front of MAGIC MIKE that looks like this year's (500) DAYS OF SUMMER is entitled RUBY SPARKS.  Ruby is being played by Zoe Kazan. Zoe is the granddaughter of Elia Kazan and daughter of screenwriter Robin Swicord.

Another Zoe who is being rumbled about is Zoe Kravitz. She, of course, is the daughter of Lisa Bonet and Lenny Kravitz. Lenny being the son of actress Roxie Roker and news executive Sy Kravitz.

Kazan also reminded me of Kasdan, Jake Kasdan son of Lawrence Kasdan -- whom "everyone" was rooting for when BAD TEACHER came out. It bombed, but I don't think we should be worried for Jake. Hollywood kids always get a second chance...and a third...and a fourth...and a, well, you get the picture.

Jake reminded me of director Jason Reitman, son of director Ivan Reitman. Jason gained some indie cred with THANK YOU FOR SMOKING before scoring big a couple summers ago with JUNO and then was up for an Oscar with UP IN THE AIR because Hollywood loves nothing more than a dynasty. (Drew Barrymore will get an Oscar. She just isn't trying hard enough. One Holocaust movie, Drew, or a bio pic that isn't on HBO. They will throw rose petals for you on your way to the stage.)

Jake and Jason reminded me of Jeffrey Jacob Abrams, better known as JJ.  JJ is the son of producer Gerald Abrams. If you haven't heard of JJ, you're dead.

There's Lily Collins who starred in MIRROR, MIRROR this summer with Julia Roberts (whose brother Eric helped her get her start, and who is helping Eric's daughter Emma in return). Lily doesn't like to mention it, but her daddy is Phil Collins. Against All Odds?  Not likely. Her co-star was Armie Hammer.  Armie is the great-grandson of Armand Hammer. I know this because we were looking at him for a role before THE SOCIAL NETWORK came out and the casting director made sure that we knew that he was a Hammer of the Los Angeles Hammers. Speaking of Money...

Rooney Mara, the newest of the new It Girls, is NFL royalty. Great grandpas Rooney and Mara were founders of the Steelers and the Giants respectively. You might argue that the NFL isn't Hollywood, but I would say, "have you seen the SuperBowl ratings?" Entertainment is entertainment, and more importantly, money is money, darling. This is the USA.

Speaking of It Girls, this entry wouldn't be complete without bring up GIRLS, the new HBO comedy coming to an Emmy show near you. Lena Dunham's mom is Laurie Simmons. Allison Williams is the daughter of NBC news anchor Brian (who is rumored to be friends with GIRLS producer Judd Apatow, but we have been assured that Allison had to audition).  Jemima Kirke's dad is the drummer for Bad Company. Zosia Mamet's father is none other than David Mamet.

And the list goes on and on: Kristen Stewart is the daughter of a producer dad and script supervisor mom; Blake Lively's dad is actor Ernie Lively; Keira Knighley's mom is playwright Sharman MacDonald and dad is stage actor Will Knightley. Rashida Jones, of course, is the daughter of music producer Quincy Jones and MOD SQUAD actress Peggy Lipton. Chris Pine's dad was on CHIPs. Mamie Gummer and Eva Amurri Martino are the daughters of Meryl Streep and Susan Sarandon respectively. But these guys are sooo last year, I shouldn't have even brought them up. 

Occasionally, I'm called upon to give advice to people trying to break into the industry. I give them all the same crap advice I got when I was trying to get my first job. Look at the UTA job list. Make friends. Make more friends. Network. Be thin and pretty/hard bodied and hot. But really, it comes down to good old fashioned nepotism. If you got a family member in the business, then you can get into the business...how else do you explain Jim Belushi?

21st Century Television

I have seen the possible future of television, and it's exciting, and well crafted and well acted and strikingly produced...and it's airing on PBS.

SHERLOCK aired here in the U.S. on PBS as part of Masterpiece Mystery (Both Season 1 & 2 are now viewable on the PBS website). Season 2 was a three-part series (something we Yanks would erroneously call a mini-series) timed at 1:30 a piece. I don't want to get side-tracked about the smart programming strategy that the British have institutionalized on their side of the pond, but I think it's something that the programmers here in the U.S. should revisit as we go through television's shifting paradigm (I.E. the steady move of content to the internet as well as the ratings-disruptive habits of the audience who now prefers TV on demand to appointment viewing).  As we gather more and more outlets for viewing -- HULU, YouTube, Yahoo, Netflix, Amazon Prime -- more content is going to be needed. If you shudder at the thought of more "reality," be prepared for the heebie-jeebies because less and less money is going to be available for upfront costs which means less development, fewer professionals, and basically no production value.  At least, not until we effectively monetize the web. How its going to shake out is anyone's guess right now, but my money continues to be on the creative side with odds favoring the person who can do more with less. Which brings me back to....  Where was I? Oh, yes. SHERLOCK. Blergh! I knew I was going to be side-tracked.

The series is genius not because they took arguably the best known PI ever written and slapped him back on TV. No. Anyone can tune in to CBS after 9PM and get a procedural, and anyone can take a character in the public domain and re-craft him to investigate a mystery (E.G. HOUSE, MD and NBC's upcoming ELEMENTARY). However, the lure here is usually in the sensationalism. How gross can we make a dead body? How lurid can we make the crime?  But the Brits have foregone the Ick Factor and decided to go for...shall I say "innovation?"  Perish the thought that a television show can be described so, and yet, there it is. Season 1, Episode 1 of SHERLOCK starts with a police inspector giving a press conference on a murder. Instead of having our devastatingly, detailed detective standing in the back of the room, poised to dramatically reveal himself and mock and question the officer, the audience hears numerous text alerts.  The sound your phone makes when you have received a text. All the journos look to their phones. As they look at the screens in their hands, floating above their heads, bobbing along with the actors heads are the text type written words, "He's lying." Text!  In Film!  Without the actor looking down, then cutting to the phone screen to give you a crappy reproduction of a cell phone screen shot so that you can read the text, too! In Season 2, John Watson, MD, has started a blog about Sherlock's exploits. Instead of blandly showing Watson typing then explaining what he's typing to Sherlock, we get another long shot with the type marching across the screen as Watson's fingers fly over the keypad. What he is typing is not important expect that a throw-away joke is made about Blog titles (how I suffer over them!). But we go further than just showing technology in use. We actually use technology in informing the character! What?! Is that possible?! It is, it is! As Sherlock looks at person, we see the character from his perspective. We are in Sherlock's head. Along a lapel line, the words "$400 suit" may appear. As he looks across a vista, a measurement might be taken. The film makers do not stop the motion of the camera, the text resides within the shot like a natural extension. They trust their audience to follow along because they force their audience to actually watch the screen. As someone who has texted or commented on FB photos or -- forgive me -- played Soltaire on an iPad while "watching" other TV shows, I must put down my techno gadgets if I want to follow the story. I can't just listen, I have to pay attention.  And by paying attention, I'm rewarded. In Season 2, Episode 1, "A Scandal in Belgravia," we are introduced to Irene Adler who drugs our dear Sherlock. Again, we are given Sherlock's perspective. A dreamlike encounter happens between the two. No, not sex -- keep it clean, people! Instead, Sherlock falls onto the floor and into his bed until he suddenly finds himself in a car that was featured earlier in a crime he has yet to solve for the audience. But it's not Sherlock who explains it to us, it's Irene Adler who reveals herself to be just as clever as Sherlock...and who consequently reveals that the writers of this series are quite clever themselves. Earlier, we are teased with a sight gag of our Sherlock in a deerstalker cap while Watson dons a driver's cap. But further, SHERLOCK's technology is used to immerse the viewer in the experience. As Sherlock stays home, Watson brings his laptop to a crime scene and uses the laptop's camera to show Sherlock the evidence. As Watson walks, the camera bobs along with his gait. When Sherlock sits down, it's like you're Skyping with the man. While 3D tries to deliver the experience of being in the room, SHERLOCK allows you to be a part of the process.  And let's face it, it doesn't cost the producers a ton of money. Not when you look at the costs of CGI'ing something like TERRA NOVA. 

As the end of the current television season closes, we have been treated to some interesting upfronts for next fall.  I look forward to the new Fox line-up which seems to have used THE NEW GIRL as a template. I will schedule a viewing of REVOLUTION on NBC and NASHVILLE on ABC, but nothing so far matches the feel of something that has been as thought out and crafted as SHERLOCK. Not even the new ELEMENTARY. It all feels like pop and fizz.  But if SMASH and GLEE taught us anything, it's that pop and fizz goes flat. You must engage your viewer with more than just great sets and big named actors. You have to give us something that feels fresh. You have to give us a story and if you can give us an immersive experience while you're at it, you might just have the next TV game changer.

A Woman's Man

Writing is hard. Anyone can come up with a concept, a hook, or a gimmick to sell to someone. But once that little gem of an idea is bought, someone needs to execute it. And nine times out of ten, it's probably not the person who had the originated it. Hence the ghostwriter in books and the script doctor in screenplays. But I have to tell you, I'm totally gobsmacked by Matthew Weiner, the creator and writer of MAD MEN, who not only concept'ed MM, but is infamous for driving the carriage at the tip of a whip. And when you seem to be this good of a creator, I can't blame him. I hate to call people brilliant, gifted or genius, because it's usually just a one-off and no one is Midas and everyone in Hollywood loves to throw those words around just to stroke egos, but in this case, I'll make an allowance. When it comes to this series, Matthew Weiner is quite something to behold. Each episode is like a polished jewel and I lay the complement squarely at his feet.

Warning: If you do not like slow plotting, regardless of fantastic character development and dialogue, you will not like this show. I, for instance, am not a fan of dick jokes and treating women like a punchline, so I don't watch TWO AND A HALF MEN. No judgements. To each their own. But if you like well-scripted film or television, and you are not watching MAD MEN, just skip on over to Netflix and start streaming the first three seasons to catch up. It is currently in Season 5. Last night's episode (4, "Mystery Date") might be this season's "The Suitcase." While "The Suitcase" episode was a risky drawn out sequence of just two actors going deep into Don's identity crisis, "Mystery Date" was an incredible commentary on feminist rhetoric, more pointedly, rape in the cultural conscience. And when "rape" is being thrown around by actresses comparing it to being stalked by paparazzi or a song that was composed for her movie being used in the current Oscar winner, it's about time someone try to put it back into its appropriate context. Just about every character had something to say about female sexuality and power last night. It was incredibly insightful and was written -- wait for it -- by two men, Matthew Weiner and Victor Levin. What really intrigues me about MAD MEN's writing is that it is wonderfully complex, authentic, and intentional. Everyone talks about the "attention to detail," but that usually refers to the set design, costume, make-up and language choices. Which makes for great visuals and fun brain-teasers, and I do enjoy those elements, trusting that someone at MM is verifying all of those nuances. But from a development stand-point, the arc of the characters and the psychological depths that the writers plumb, are probably the most intense on TV. (Film isn't even allowed to go there any more, unless you're talking foreign film or some down-and-dirty indie.) This is what episodic television can do. Which brings me back to "Mystery Date." If you didn't see it yet, don't read any further if you don't want to be spoiled. (Though with MM, it's not exactly Spoiler Alert viewing.)

The clever angle that the writers decided to use was to intersect the 1966 rape, torture, and murder of eight nursing students in Chicago with a popular board game of the time, Mystery Date. If your female fear of rape isn't tingling yet, you're probably a man. Just about every character plays out the psychosexual victimization of women. Early in the episode, the new copywriter, Ginso, is appalled at the pictures from the Chicago crime scene while his counterparts seem titillated by them. It is stressed that the ninth girl got out alive by hiding under the bed. Later, Ginso dry-runs an idea for Don for a pantyhose account which devolves into a pitch idea featuring that comely lass Cinderella and her missing shoe. Too cliche, says Don which prompts those other female icons Snow White and Sleeping Beauty to peek up for a minute before being deemed "narcoleptic." Are you seeing the parallel yet? If not, let's skip right ahead to the actual pitch to the pantyhose honchos where Ginso -- earlier, so offended by his co-workers salacious gawking -- pitches an extraordinarily dark and disturbing Cinderella scenario in which Cindy is running from a shady male character down a dark, cobblestone street, only to be caught...and grateful that her pursuer is the prince! Oh, thank god, I thought you were a rapist! The honchos love it, of course. Need I mention that everyone in the room is a man during this presentation? Men, getting wrong for... well, forever. Just in case, you think that every woman wants it, let's flip to all our female characters for a counterpoint, shall we?

First up, poor little Sally Draper who is calling her father to save her from her wicked step-grandmama! How perfect was that set up?! Did you notice that they played up the Gothic mansion bit, too? Don, of course, tells her that it's not his weekend and to suck it up. Sally's Daddy Issue just grows by leaps and bounds every week, doesn't it? Sally, who is in the prime of her sexual development and wants to be treated like an adult while whining like a child, wants to know about the murder. Step-grandmama refuses to talk about it. But little Sally fishes out the newspaper from the garbage and reads it under the covers that night like the horror story it is....then freaks the hell out! Who can blame her? Especially when Mystery Date is being sold to little girls just Sally's age to socialize them to open the door to any guy bearing flowers. Knock, Knock. Who's there? Could be prince charming...could be a rapist. How lucky do you feel? Sally wearing frilly, blue, baby doll pjs creeps out to step-grandmama who is sitting around reading a romance novel while keeping a butcher knife on the couch next to her (BTW: HA! Brilliant!). Step-grandmama makes the bad decision to tell Sally about the case in the most awful, gossipy way possible. Then...gives her half a sleeping pill. Sleeping Beauty, indeed.

Peggy, in the meantime, gets less money from Roger for working all weekend then Harry did just to switch an office. (IE, Peggy's time is less valuable than Harry's ego.) Then Peggy finds Dawn, Don's African-American secretary, sleeping in Don's office (Dawn, don't sleep on that couch. There's a lot of DNA in that couch). Dawn is afraid to go home to Harlem after dark since there's been all sorts of riots and every woman in the U.S. is currently terrified of Cinderella's shadowy male pursuer. Peggy takes Dawn back to her apartment in a show of sisterhood where Peggy is all mentor'y and asks Dawn if she acts too much like a man, and they both agree that if you're a woman in a man's world, it's best not to be too girly-girly...because then they will have to pursue you, have sex with you, strangle you and then stuff you under their bed. Or not. I don't know. I'm not Don. Anywho, Peggy then takes our feminist fairy tale script one step further and goes deep into the feminist schism. White women never understand why black women don't join the feminist front lines. After all, we're all after the same things, right? Equality! Liberty! Men are the enemy, not your sisters! Until, of course, Peggy remembers she has $410 in her purse and her repressed racism comes rearing its ugly, little head. You see, black women cannot be Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty or Snow White. The cultural mythology (based in reality) of African-American women have always been about slavery, rape, and otherness. Try to pantyhose peddle that to women. Even though Peggy tries to cover her prejudice, Dawn's sees Peggy's pause and all Peggy's comradettes-in-arms goes right into the garbage with the beer bottles.

And if all that feminist theory went right over your head, let's go to the one character who has been both raped and saved: Joan. Our darling Joanie Holloway is married to an upstanding, military surgeon who gets saluted in restaurants...and who we all remember raped her right there on the floor of the office. After hubby took off for Vietnam, Joan and Roger get their flirt back on, and after they are robbed on a dark street by a shadowy man, Joan allows Roger her defender to take her right there on a street corner...impregnating her in the process. If Sally is our innocent Sleeping Beauty, Joan is our Cinderella after her shoe has been returned. Neither one of these scenarios is working out well, is it?

And if our women are terrified of the Cinderella myth, and the men are selling it, our darling protagonist, womanizer Don Draper, is hallucinating the male psychosexual conflict for us. He's got a gorgeous, young wife who is coming to grips with Don's sexual past and on-going sexual appetite. Don, for his part, seems to be battling the flu. In his fevered dream, he is confronted by his libido in the form of a former paramour who keeps insisting that Megan has not changed Don. At first, Don resists. Then Don gives in. Then Don, angry at his own inability to keep it in his pants, must kill the object of his sexual desire, trying desperately to hide it before Megan sees it, but -- like all nightmare scenarios -- can't quite hide it all the way.

Even though MW and Co. had eighteen months to develop this particular season, the sheer construction of this episode alone would take most writers months to nail down especially with this level subtlety. So kudos to the writing staff. But a bigger curtsy to Matthew Weiner who either took feminist theory or just absorbed it at Wesleyan. Very few writers can write women as authentically as he can, and even fewer would take on rape as a topical theme for an episode. Writing is hard, but when it's this good, it doesn't look it.

Make It Better

It might have been mentioned before, but to refresh, I work in Development. For those of you who do not know what Development is: It is the department department that resources the concept for a film or television show whether it's a book, original script, play, article in a magazine, some fluff piece on internet, or a writer or actor or director saying over lunch, "I had this idea about a girl with a polka-dot skirt and a cupcake store who meets a guy with a striped tie and dog...and they HATE each other, but she's pregnant with his baby. I'm thinking Michelle Williams and Jason Segal" and crafts it into a pitch or treatment to be shopped around to the money people. If the piece gets the backing, then the Development person starts looking for a screenwriter and then holds the writer's hand through the process so that the producers, writer, and engaged talent come to a coherent consensus on the finished draft. The Development person usually works for a producer, studio, network, or "talent" who have shingles. Not the kind that comes from dormant chicken pox and brought on by stress (BTW: Yuck). But a director, actor, or writer who is established enough in the industry to get a movie or show financed based solely on their reputation and establish their own production company where they mold material they like. (See: Smokehouse, Plan-B, Amblin, and about a gazillion others.) When people find out what I do for a living -- basically, get paid to read and make suggestions so that other people look geniuses by spotting that Award winner -- they want in. But I'd like to take a moment to relive with you something that happened to me recently. I will take liberties with the timeline just a bit as part of my job is to prolong the suspense so that the climax feels cathartic.

About a year and a half ago, I read this book which I felt fit the current the mandate of the production company that employs me: A Christmas piece with family drama -- but not too much -- and a romance that targets the female demographic between the ages of 25 and 54 taking place in the contemporary time frame, preferably in a beautiful Americana locale (that Canada might easily double for if tax incentives for that American state aren't comparable). And, yes, this is how specific it can get. I have three bosses, overall, and while there is a hierarchy, it's a pretty casual one. The first is the Director of Development whom I call DD (prosaic? I know). Then the Producer who I'll call "Chip" and the Executive Producer whom I'll call "Bobby." In the beginning, DD totally saw what I saw in the piece, which makes sense because we are females in the target demo. One might want to listen to those voices, but as in D.C. and the GOP talking about women's health, why should we listen to the the people we want to support us? Chip "didn't get it." I admit, the book was a bit of a mess, but I wrote a treatment that reconciled a lot of the plot holes. Bobby got it, but Bobby often loses focus on Development and unless Chip is on-board some material can get put onto "the backburner," meaning that it's not a Pass per se, it's just Chip's hope that the mandate will change, and I won't bring the piece up a billion times more. But the mandate hasn't changed, and I keep banging my drum. (Do you like all these cliches? Welcome to Hollywood.)

Recently, we were doing our big Christmas push. This happens about five times a year as Christmas material is consistently derivative of A Christmas Carol, It's a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street, or someone seeing/being Santa Claus and -- unlike their progenitors -- not good. It's difficult to find honest Christmas material. For years, we used to do material that just took place around Christmas, but focus groups have now told us that audiences want Christmas to be the center of the storyline. (Focus groups -- taking creative out of Hollywood year after year!) I took it upon my self to pitch the book one more time to Bobby. I told him that I thought I could refocus the pitch.

Bobby: Can you make it good?

Me: I can make it better.

Bobby: Well, if you can get it to me by Friday, I'll put it in the pitch packet.

Me: *running to my office*

I reopened the treatment from 18 months ago and remembered it was eight pages. A year and a half ago, eight pages was about the norm. At some point, someone decided that we should do two-page pitches instead of longer treatments. It took the whole day, but I did a complete re-write, got it down to a page and half, refocused it from the child's point of view, and handed it to DD.

DD: I still love this concept. I thought there was a dog in it?

Me: Yes, there is, but I didn't want it to be too long, and the dog thread isn't imperative to the overall narrative.

DD: *Nodding the way women do to state that she understands your position while not necessarily agreeing with you*...still. It kinda gave it a little something, don'cha think?

Me: *Nodding while going back to my office*

I put the dog back in and it was two whole pages. The next day, I gave it to Bobby. On the third day, Bobby called me into his office.

Bobby: This is better!

Me: Thanks! *Big smile*

Bobby: I like the kid, and there's a little mystery now.

Me: Yep!

Bobby: And the dog is funny.

Me: Good!

Bobby: ...but...

Me: ......

Bobby: ...the guys kinda come off as...weird.

Me: Weird?

Bobby: You know, not like men.

Me: Um...

Bobby: Just make 'em funnier. They're supposed to be funny, right?

Me: Yeah! Totally. It's not supposed to be literal.

Bobby: Then just make sure that I know that they're funny.

Me: *going back to my office.*

To help get the male protagonists to seem funny, I throw in some dialogue and a bunch of adjectives and adverbs. But now the pitch is three pages. I bring it back to Bobby. The next day, I get called into his office.

Bobby: This is much better!

Me: Good! I'm glad. *Big smile*

Bobby: The ending is kinda...

Me: ... down?

Bobby: Not 'down,' exactly. Just...flat.

Me: Okaaay.

Bobby: *looking at me*....

Me: I can make it not flat. I just don't know, um, --

Bobby: ...*looking at me*....

Me: -- it's just that, uh, that's how the book ends. I didn't want to go to far afield from the source material.

Bobby: I don't care about that. Just make it not flat.

Me: *going back to my office.*

I come up with an idea that still holds true to the spirit of the novel while making the piece feel a bit more of a Happily Ever After. But it's just over three pages now. I give it back to Bobby. An hour later, I get called back into his office.

Bobby: There's a typo here.

Me: *going back to my office*

I fix the typo and bring it back to Bobby. The next morning is Friday. Bobby calls me back to his office.

Bobby: I'm sending it in.

Me: Good! *Big smile*

Bobby: Just show it to Chip then email it.

Me: Okay!

I bop into Chip's office and tell him that Bobby wants to put the treatment into the Christmas pitch packet, but wants him to look it over first. Chip sees the title of the pitch and groans. About an hour later, I get called into his Chip.

Chip: It's better, I guess. But it's long. Can you get it to two pages? Maybe cut back on the dog and this goofy shit with the guys.

Me: ...but...

Chip: .....

Me: *going back to my office.*

The sad fact is, this is nothing. Once we pass this on to the money people, they have their own ideas, and then once a writer is engaged, I have to start the negotiation phase all over again as s/he often can't figure out how the hell I got to where I did when the source material is nothing like my treatment. Then s/he has her/his own idea of how the material should play out...then the director gets involved...then the actor! It's a never ending tidal wave of "ideas." Let's just put it this way, I spend a lot of time in my office just trying to make it better.

Is SMASH a Smash?

Three things I like about NBC's new show SMASH:

1) Debra Messing with a gay guy BFF!

2) Anjelica Huston stalking around like Joan Crawford!

3) Broadway-like vignettes!

Two things I think SMASH needs to reconsider:

1) That worn-out chestnut of the dewy faced, wide eyed innocent fresh off the bus who has big, Big, BIG dreams of making it on the Great White Way because she was so pretty and so talented she locked all the leads in her high school productions...in Iowa. (And, in this case, luckily lands in the bed and heart of a British-speaking Mayoral assistant who has plenty of money to care for her while she's being turned down at auditions because otherwise, she would be living in a studio apartment with three other girls in Astoria, but instead gets to live in a HUGE ASS apartment somewhere in Manhattan. One would assume in Tribeca.) This might have worked before the advent of the internet, but when Justin Bieber and Rebecca Black can become part of the zeitgeist for a couple of YouTube videos, Kim Kardashin and Paris Hilton can have whole careers based on nothing but sex videos, and reality TV has given 5% of Americans 15-episodes of fame, the naive waif from Nowheresville is just kinda ridiculous. Even Iowans have the World Wide Web. Don't condescend, Hollywood.

2) Debra Messing's home life. I'm not sure what's going on there. Unfortunately, Brian d'Arcy James gets the awful character position that is usually left to a woman to play as the wife, but here we get the groundbreaking, role reversal of a man as husband taking on the trope: The shrill spouse who married an obsessive, but who now erratically swings between encouraging the raging workaholic in her endeavor and yelling at her for never being available, listening, paying attention, forgetting, etc. "Oh, fame-inducing, money-making success! Why must you exact such a price on the family life?! It's a curse - a CURSE! - I tell you! I preferred it so when we had no money and you were just a neurotic shell of a person and only MY love could salve your wounded vanity...." Stop! Please, stop. If you want to do something innovative, take this trope and really, psychologically dissect it and give the actor something to do.

One thing I think SMASH did disastrously wrong:

1) Casting Katharine McPhee. I know. I know that Steven Spielberg suggested her, his royal self. However, Bob Greenblatt, you are not "introducing" Katharine McPhee to anyone. I know you've been toiling over there in cable and probably looked down at network -- which was kinda evident when all you could do was talk about cable at the recent TV Critics Association -- but, you see, Katharine McPhee was on the only television show outside of the SuperBowl that Americans watch. It's called American Idol. And Ms. McPhee did very, very well on that show. And after she did that blockbuster show, she decided to dye her hair blond and marry some Hollywood player twice her age before being cast in a successful movie called The House Bunny. But let me tell you something about Katharine McPhee that you don't know and perhaps should have used a focus group to figure out before pulling the trigger: Katharine McPhee is bland. Seriously. Evidence?

Exhibit #1: She lost to Taylor Hicks. Taylor Hicks! Despite how successful she was on American Idol, she cut an album and it flopped. (BTW: Starting the show with "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," her AI breakout song? Passe. Don't ever do that again. All you did was serve to remind us that we saw this girl already...six years ago. When she lost to Taylor Hicks.)

Exhibit #2: While I remember she was in The House Bunny, I don't remember her actually *in*House Bunny. Do you know who I remember? Emma Stone and Kat Dennings. Hell, I even remember Rumer Willis, vaguely. But I don't remember Katharine McPhee.

Exhibit #3: When the cast of SMASH was announced, everybody's reaction was the same: Debra Messing! Anjelica Huston! That guy from Pirates of the Caribbean! ...Katharine McPhee? Then people started laughing about the "introducing" tagline. Then Bob Greenblatt tried to say how wonderful it was to "introduce" Katharine McPhee *again.* Reader, have you ever been to a dinner party where you've met everyone, but some people have forgotten who you were so you had to be introduced *again*? It's embarrassing. No matter how you spin it, and they've been spinning it, it's weird. You should be "introducing" Megan Hilty.

While SMASH does not want to be compared to GLEE, I think it's relevant to point out what GLEE did right: They hired Broadway vets to portray the leads. Who knew Matthew Morrison before GLEE? Well, I saw him in the Tony-winner A Light in the Piazza up at Lincoln Center. Who knew Lea Michele before GLEE? Anyone who saw Spring Awakening. These people could sing and act and dance. But unless you were living in New York and taking in the theater for the last ten years, you wouldn't know 'em. Which is why I think Megan Hilty will do gloriously on this show if they would only push Katharine McPhee and her big, brown eyes to the side to let the woman shine. And, by the way, I think it's fairly obvious that McPhee is going to "get the role" after that weird pyramid where Oscar-winner Anjelica Huston is at the bottom(!) while McPhee is holding it all together. If you had two unknowns portraying Karen and Ivy, I might be willing to go all fifteen episodes to find out Who Will Get The Part?! But, I kinda know, don't I? You're not going to give it to the real Unknown, you're going to give it to the unknown that we all know.

Is it a smash? That's hard to say. Ratings were good last night, but dropped a chuck of The Voice's lead-in, and will probably drop further next week. They can't afford to drop much, however, especially not with the overhead that a show of this size -- with these kinds of names both in front of and behind the camera -- must cost (pilot was 7.5 million). I, for one, don't know if I'll be checking-in back in long term. I might watch for the next four or five weeks on DVR, but I'm going to need more than what I saw in the "upcoming" package that aired at the end of last night's episode. If SMASH goes the way of GLEE -- hoping that the musical numbers are enough to keep eyes glued to the TV while we watch warmed-over plotlines -- then my days are numbered. And if you lose too many women and gay men, this one will go the way of the original "Marilyn" Broadway tuner.