American Idol Update: Week 7

Well ladies and gentlemen, we've reached the doldrums of Idol. As you no doubt are aware, I couldn't even muster the gumption to recap last week's show. It was Motown Week you see and nothing makes me feel like the Angel of Death is nigh like two hours of white people (and one Indian guy) trying to sing soul music.

This week wasn't much better. As the contestants droned on through inane song after inane song, I couldn't help but wander why I continue to watch this tripe. I lack personal discipline. Or have too much of it. I don't know which. Do I continue to watch it because I can't decide on anything else to do at 8pm on Tuesday nights or because I'm so dedicated to this humble blog that I can't stop this thing I started? Now there's an underrated Bryan Adams classic one of these asshats should sing.

Anyway, week 7. WTF Week as far as I can tell. The contestants could pick anything that is a popular download on iTunes. Anoop started off the show reasonably well, but it was pretty much downhill from there. The judges have finally turned on Megan, but Vote for the Worst will likely keep her around awhile longer. Christ. As I write this, my mind is wandering. I can't focus on this today. The deep questions of life require pondering and Adam Lambert's shrill cats fucking musical style can only distract me. Fuck you Idol. I want you out of my life.

That said, tune in next Tuesday for American Idol Update: Week 8. Smother me with a pillow please. LOLZ!!!!!

Twilight: The Longest 73 Hours of My Life

Those of you who have been living in Amish country, or have taken a vow to avoid all contact with teenagers, might not be familiar with this latest teeny-bopper sensation Stephanie Meyers has puked into our pop culture. Until Governor X gave me the novel for Christmas, I had been only vaguely aware of the movie's existence, and little more. After several painful hours of page turning, I finished the "novel." It was not the worst writing I had ever seen. Planet X, a book I once read on a dare, holds that honor. I imagine that at the age of thirteen, I might have found Twilight entertaining. It would have blended well with my days of writing bad poetry and fantasizing about Wil Wheaton.

The movie, however, managed to take a dull, contrived novel and make it into an abysmally rotten flick. At slightly longer than two hours running time, "Twilight: The Movie" felt as though it lasted three days. As Governor X stated after our viewing, "That movie has been on since 'Nam."

Edward Cullen, played by Robert Pattinson, is a teenage vampire. He was 17 when he was "turned" and is now about 80 years old. Bella Swan, played by some pale chick, is a whiny teenager who has to move to Washington to live with her father. Bella smells tasty to Edward, but he is a "vegetarian vampire" who only eats animals, not people. (I know that makes absolutely no sense, but the book itself uses that term.) Edward and Bella fall into a teenage infatuation they call love and stare at each other all the time. Edward saves Bella from a car accident, a roving horde of rapist frat-boys, and a vampire stalker. He does not get to bone her for all his trouble. Not yet, anyway.

The movie is filmed almost entirely in a grainy, gray, sad manner, working off the assertions of Ms. Meyers that the sun never shines in the state of Washington. The vampires of this fantasy universe do not burst into flames when exposed to sunlight; they sparkle and shimmer like junior high lip gloss, revealing their paranormal nature. While one could hope this black and white imagery would give rise to some very creative and interesting artistic opportunities, one would be setting oneself up for disappointment. The camera simply jerks around for two hours, back and forth between characters, using extreme close-ups at an almost perverse frequency. Does this director have a nostril fetish?

Bella and Edward are deeply, irrevocably, forever, super-duper, zomgcallme in love with each other. We get it. The movie spends at least 90 of its 122 minute running time hammering this fact into the audience's heads with footage of the protagonists staring at each other intensely. The remaining thirty minutes of movie is full of terrible clichés. We have the token black guy who calls Bella "guuuurl.". The local Native-American tribe provides the story with the necessary "sage old person of origins exotic to suburbia." All of your typical high school cliques happen to be present, despite the fact that a town of 3000 could scarcely provide a student body so diverse.

Then we have the acting. Whether the acting is terrible, or the direction is terrible, or both are terrible is up in the air for me. The constant close-ups and dragging pace of the movie indicate that the direction is floundering. At the same time, Mr. Pattinson's previous role in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire does not indicate anything positive about his acting abilities. A ridiculously pregnant pause before each and every line is a bad habit that Mr. Pattinson needs to shake before he can ever hope to be the next Orlando Bloom. The young lady playing Bella Swan was so unremarkable, I haven't bothered to look up her name. She was neither terrible or great. She was meh. Her performance was wooden and useless. A puppet could have delivered her lines with more feeling and presence.

I never held much hope for the content of the movie, though I could not have predicted it would be as bad as it was. I had hoped the special effects would, at least, make the movie remotely interesting. Again, I was wrong. How could any film, especially one so "anticipated" use effects that look like they were ripped from a 70's sci-fi flick?

Whatever happened to movies like "Lost Boys" and "Brahm Stoker's Dracula" where the vampires were only a little effeminate? Now, instead of turning into bats and eating people, vampires are wearing designer jeans and becoming vegetarians. I thought vampires could not get less manly after the works of Anne Rice. Twilight has proven me wrong.

Overall, the movie was the most horrible pile of steaming crap Governor X has ever forced me to smell. To put this in perspective, the man has made me watch Time Bandits and Mamma Mia. If you are emotionally thirteen and believe true love occurs whenever a weirdo with large eyebrows in tight black jeans tells you that you smell tasty, then this is the film for you. If you are a grown woman or a male in possession of a pair that you hope to some day procreate with, avoid Twilight at all costs.

American Idol Update: Week 5

Country week always leads to a night of unparalleled trainwrecks on Idol. If they had had "Sing Irish Folk Music After Drinking Half a Bottle of Jamesons Night" in honor of St. Patrick's Day, tonight couldn't have been any worse from a musical standpoint. Then again, if not for the awful spectacle of it all, would there be any reason to watch?

Not surprisingly, no one was particularly good tonight. Even the sagely advice of Randy "Frankenstein" Travis couldn't guide this island of misfit toys to country stardom, or even country competence. Anoop Desai was probably the best with his mind numbingly slow rendition of Always on My Mind. Lil Rounds and Alison Iraheta, two of the more talented singers on the program, probably showed enough to survive but it was painfully obvious that they were out of their element.

You would think when everyone is bad it would be hard to pick the worst, but Megan and Adam took care of that. Megan did a half-talking off key version of Walking After Midnight. If this were the gong show, she would have been gonged off the stage, but since its Idol, the judges gushed over her and praised her for her bravery for singing with the flu. Flu or not, she was so bad again I remain convinced she is tanking so she can go home. Adam also butchered a country classic, Ring of Fire, but did it in a unique way. Imagine karaoke night at a Tehran gay bar in the 70s and you might come close. Its mostly a blur now, but there was a lot of shrieking and sitar music.

If you're voting for the best, go with Anoop. If you're voting for the worst, stick with Megan. Adam will get through anyway since the girls love him, even though based on the pictures What Would Tyler Durden Do? dug up, its clear he doesn't love them back. GOVERNOR X OUT.

American Idol Update: Week 4

Last week I promised the American Idol Update would be shorter to please the focus groups, which continue to tell me these posts are as popular as a double feature of Norbit and Meet Dave. Even though Idol unexpectedly continues to drone on for two hours, I will keep my word bringing only the highlights and lowlights to you, the dear reader and Idol Addict.

It was Michael Jackson week which promised to provide lots of awful performances and it certainly didn't disappoint. Out of thirteen performances, I absolutely loathed ten, tolerated one, and liked two. The two best were Jasmine who did I'll Be There and Alexis who sang Dirty Diana. Naturally, the judges were lukewarm at best to both performances. They don't like Jasmine at all for some reason. I suspect they, like Cap Anson, hate black people. Yes, this includes Randy. He's an Uncle Tom. Seriously, what self respecting black man would have played bass for Journey and the Divinyls?

There were so many bad performances, but one really stood head and shoulders above (or below?) the rest. Megan's rendition of Rockin' Robin was so awful, she's already been chosen by the Vote for the Worst crowd. The song itself is something I would expect to hear at a elementary school talent show, and she shrieked and gyrated her way through it like she was hopped up on drugs. To cap off the truly awful performance, she yelled CAW! CAW! when it was over. Her intro video was all about how much she missed her kid, so I think she may have been tanking it so she can go home.

R.I.P. U2 1978-2009

Let me start this post by saying I love U2. I'm not the casual music fan who will tell you "I like old U2" because I owned a cassette of The Joshua Tree back in the 80s. No friends, I am a true believer with a collection of B-sides and bootlegs and Bono-glasses who has looked forward to the release of each new U2 CD like Christmas morning. Achtung Baby was the first CD I ever bought, I made it a point to visit the Zoo Station while in Berlin, and yes Virginia, I thought POP was brilliant. That is why it pains me so much to tell you this:

The band I have loved my entire life is dead. Something calling itself U2 released No Line on the Horizon yesterday, but its not the U2 you and I have known and loved for so long.

U2, who once produced an unappreciated masterpiece called Zooropa in a couple of months on a tour bus took five years to give us this disc of pointless recycled rock. The sad track by track rundown:

No Line on the Horizon – The album starts off pretty strong with fresh sounding guitar rock. The fact that this song actually sounds different from U2’s previous work distinguishes it from nearly everything that follows. Only after listening to the album in its entirety can one truly appreciate this fact.

Magnificent – The second track starts off trippy enough and then rips into pretty standard U2 fare. In the end, its good enough to excuse the fact that it could have been written during The Unforgettable Fire sessions.

Moment of Surrender – For the first time in the band’s history, Bono’s voice sounds truly wretched on this track. Vocals aside, I feel there is a solid foundation of a song here, but they certainly didn’t find it. Its sleepy, directionless, and pointlessly long.

Unknown Caller – The ripoffs begin in earnest with a little Where the Streets Have No Name-ish intro. They should have stuck with that because it’s all downhill from here. Bits of lyrical drivel left over from the last two CDs get mixed in with tedious group chanting to produce some sort of deformed Frankenstein of a song. Yes, there are horns and organs too.

I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight – In the city of blinding lights… Oh wait, it’s a “new” song. Yeah right. At least the City of Blinding Lights guitar ripoff sounds good. The lyrics and vocals are the real problem here. If Bono had written these lyrics when he was 15, he would have been ashamed of himself.

Get On Your Boots – The first single off the disc is a mélange of 80’s songs too numerous to list. There’s an individual line here and there that sounds OK, but the end product is too confused and pointless to be worthy of a spot on a U2 CD, much less as the lead single.

Stand Up Comedy – Bono's attempt at rapping may distract you from the fact that the music is nothing more than slower wannabe bluesy versions of Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me and Holy Joe. Truly a dreadful track.

Fez – Being Born – The first part, Fez, is basically Bono saying “let me hear the sound” over some spacey mood music. Being Born gets going with some serious guitar work, moves into Bono pining for something like its 1991, and eventually arrives at a bizarre Low-era Bowie conclusion. I like it, partly because by the end I can’t remember what a waste of time Fez is.

White as Snow – Its no coincidence that when they take a break from stealing their own music, the band can still turn out a gem like this slow ode to a dying soldier. Definitely one of the high points on the album.

Breathe – This song is pretty bad, but to grasp just how bad you needed to see them perform it on Letterman. For the first time ever, they look like an old band going through the motions. Musically it’s no different. They’re just filling out an album here.

Cedars of Lebanon - U2 has always had a little trouble wrapping their albums up, and not surprisingly, No Line is no exception. The title promises something preachy and epic (which U2 can do better than anyone), but instead we get lazy lyrics laid over even lazier drums and guitar.

Did you notice the theme? We've heard almost all of this done better before. That is the ultimate problem with No Line. It isn't the change in direction promised after the half-hearted corporate rock pre-packaged for Grammy voters and the editors at Rolling Stone that made up the previous two discs, All That You Can't Leave Behind and How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb. At best, it feels like reworked leftovers from those discs that left me with the impression that the band is either out of ideas or simply doesn't care anymore. Four good songs out of eleven isn't going to cut it. I could forgive something experimental that didn't quite work, but I cannot forgive U2 for giving up on themselves and their fans.

May they rest in peace.

American Idol Update: Week 3

I've seen the polls and the American Idol Update is about as popular as Rush Limbaugh's Russian mobster outfit at CPAC, but I press on. Why? Well, it's this or more recipes. Don't worry. This is the last two-hour Bataan Death March Idol for awhile, so after this week they'll be mercifully brief. Allison, Kris, and Adam survived the crap gauntlet last week. Let week three's waterboarding begin:

Von Smith - Von looks like a lesbian pig. Aside from that, and I really don't want to beat a dead horse here but, white people need to promise not to sing soul songs ever again. Just stop that already. You're white, you have no soul.

Taylor Vaifanua - The nice Mormon girl from Utah attempts Alicia Keys. The nice Mormon girl fails. She's going to make someone a great sister wife when she turns 18 though.

Alex Wagner-Trugman - He sings like a middle aged woman after too many drinks, but he has a little war with Simon that's mildly entertaining. I'd keep him around for that alone.

Arianna Afsar - I'll give her this, she sings ABBA better than Pierce Brosnan does. Take that for what its worth.

Ju'not Joyner - I really wanted to hate this guy for singing Hey There Delilah, one of the most grotesque perversions of music in the last decade, but his soulful rendition actually sounded really good. As usual, I am completely floored when someone on this show has real talent.

Kristen McNamara - She was so boring I've already forgotten what I was going to say about her.

Nathaniel Marshall - So that's what a flamboyantly gay man singing Meat Loaf sounds like. No thanks.

Felicia Barton - Another girl tries Alicia Keys. Another girl fails. The voice cracking halfway through the song is never a good sign.

Scott MacIntyre - Blind Guy bores us to tears with a little Bruce Hornsby. At least he started the high five with Ryan tonight.

Kendall Beard - This girl is just a boob job away from a playboy spread. She can't sing, but fortunately for her she wants to be a country star. Talent isn't necessarily a requirement to be a modern country singer, particularly if you're a hot blond. *cough*Carrie Underwood*cough*

Jorge Nuñez - Jorge is from Puerto Rico, which is not a country. Apparently it isn't an island that produces good singers either. Muy muy malo.

Lil Rounds - If this singing thing doesn't pan out, at least she has her stripper name ready to go. I guess she can sing okay, this just isn't my type of music.

And that's it. Is there anything more sad than Kara "it's not delivery it's" DioGuardi busting out the little hip hop slang? Why yes, yes there is. The women this week were terrible, but most of them were hot, so its an OK trade off. Lil Rounds was probably the best. The stand out among the men was Ju'not, and I don't think he'll be having any difficulty making it to the next round. Vote for the Worst has selected Alex, and I'm not going to argue. Paula was disturbingly coherent this week, so the best Paulaism I could collect was this bit of vaguely sexual innuendo:

You know when to pull back. You know when to push forward.