An Animated Essay on a Titillating Tag

For those of you who’ve read my blog in the past, you might remember that I am a huge fan of animated films. (With a special concentration on the Disney brand.) So when Matthew Urdan of Meltwater Torrents Meanderings Delta sent me a tag asking me to list my favorite animated films of all time, I was rather intrigued. Not intrigued enough to actually respond to the tag, mind you, but intrigued enough to write a blog entry about why I feel this tag is a particularly hard one for me. (Sorry, Matt, I know this wasn’t what you were expecting, but perhaps you’ll understand after I start pontificating.)

The truth is I love all animated films, even the earliest Betty Boop and Popeye cartoons. I appreciate all the time and energy that goes into pulling off such an amazingly labor-intensive achievement. And I marvel at all the creativity and imagination used to bring the story and characters to life. So to answer a question about my top ten favorite cartoons of all time is not only unfair, but also downright sadistic. What if I pick the wrong ten? What if, while assembling my list, I completely forget about one of my all time favorites? Say, Snow White, for instance. Then later, Snow finds out about my oversight and decides not to be friends with me anymore. And even worse, she forbids me from ever playing leapfrog with the Dwarves again, which as you all know is a favorite pastime of mine. Or what if Monsters, Inc. goes bankrupt because I did not include them on my list, and therefore they don’t have the full emotional support they need to survive? I even hesitate to think what Bambi’s mother might say if I don’t include her son as one of my favorites. It would just kill her!

But wait. That is not even the extent of Matt’s tumultuous tag…no, my dear readers, it gets much worse. For not only did he command me to list my top ten favorite animated films, but he also forced me to choose a character in each film that most resembles me. Horrors! Can you imagine the inner turmoil I’d be suffering while trying to work all that out? Not to mention the angst I’d endure wondering if anyone was making value judgments about me based on what characters I happen to identify with.

Or what if I couldn’t find a character, so I chose one at random, and then was stuck with that moniker for the rest of my life? (“Oh, he chose Ratatouille, so he must be a real rat.” Or “Do you think he chose Pinocchio because he’s a liar, or because he has appendages that grow to unusual sizes?”) And what if I identified with various aspects of a certain character, but not the whole person? Like, I had the independence of Belle, the vanity of Gaston, and the misunderstood personality of the Beast? Would people consider me schizophrenic?

No, I’m afraid this tag is much too difficult for someone as devoted an animated connoisseur as myself. I simply cannot compare one film to another. How can you compare the brilliance of the Evil Queen’s transfiguration into the Old Hag in the original full-length animated feature “Snow White,” with the technical wizardry of something like “The Incredibles” or “Toy Story.” You can’t. They are completely different animals. And yet I love and appreciate them both. As well as everything that came in between.

Well, with maybe one exception. “The Black Cauldron” was a definite low point in Disney animation, and temporarily turned me off to the genre for a period of time. Plus, I was in high school and animation was just not cool any more. Except maybe Saturday morning cartoons, which somehow passed as quality entertainment amongst the cool crowd. But once “The Little Mermaid” came along in the 90s, I was not only hooked again, but an even bigger fan than I was as a child.

To this day, I make my annual sojourn to the “homeland” every year (Disney World) and have my office completely covered in animated statues, posters, and figurines. It allows me to work in an environment that is happy and colorful and just a little bit “off.” Would it work for everyone? No. But for me, someone who grew up constantly escaping into the world of his imagination, my office is a colorful little retreat from the often-grey colors of the real world.

Plus, I wouldn’t want to cause any animosity among the figurines if I should choose a movie that represents some but not others. (The Queen of Hearts and Captain Hook statues can be particularly nasty when they want to be.) All I’d need is for a few of them to get a little jealous, start a feud, and the next thing you know I’m cleaning up huge piles of porcelain and resin off the floor. So to avoid that, I’m going to remain neutral like Switzerland on the topic.

But that’s just me. What are your top ten favorite animated films of all time, and what character would you identify with in each? (Go ahead, you try it….!!!!)

Creative Quips on Qualifying Quirky Qualities

I have once again been tagged by Roxy of Roxiticus Desperate Housewives to carry out one of her humiliating tasks of self-evaluation and public exposure. I don’t know why she feels it necessary to unload her particular requests upon me, but for some reason I feel the need to comply. After all, the latest “homework assignment” involved publicly revealing my special quirks or idiosyncrasies, as if I had any of those to begin with. To me, this was a big assumption on Roxy’s part, because I personally view all of my personality traits as normal extensions of my being. And should some of my habits happen to be a little different than the average person, I certainly wouldn’t call it a quirk. I think of these individual attributes as “qualities” rather than quirks, but perhaps that’s because I’m just more advanced than some people. (i.e., a certain Desperate Housewife.)

Nevertheless, I will try to assemble what I consider to be some of my most interesting “qualities,” several of which may have been referred to at one time or another as a “quirk.” Certainly not by me, of course, but by other people. After all, aren’t your quirks really pointed out by someone other than yourself? Because without their input, you might think everything you’re doing is perfectly normal. Unless one of your quirks happens to involve strange rituals with pig blood and dead chickens, in which case you might actually be displaying cult behavior rather than a quirk. But I digress.

Another interesting assumption of Roxy’s request was the requirement of listing six different quirks. As if everyone had six basic quirks they could easily assemble at any given moment. Like having six senses, your six quirks were as obvious as your eye or hair color. (The proverbial sixth sense being your ability to see dead people, like Bruce Willis’s career.) But what if you had seven quirks, or a hundred and eight? Or what if, God forbid, you only had two? And you had to make up the rest just so you wouldn’t be embarrassed. Or even worse, what if one of your “quirks” was the fear of actually having to talk about your various quirks? What then, Miss Roxy, what then?

So now that I’ve successfully drawn out my sarcastic introduction to a fourth paragraph, I think it’s time to tackle the issue at hand: the public pronouncement of my most interesting “qualities.” And here they are:

One of the major “qualities” that distinguishes me from the masses is my obsession with anything animated. Disney animated movies are my favorite, but I also like classic Saturday morning cartoons like Scooby Doo and Bugs Bunny, as well as the more artsy Japanese animation from Hayao Miyazaki. I believe that in a former life (if there is such a thing), I probably started out as an animated character. Perhaps a pencil drawing or a sketch on a napkin. (You may even have seen me as a forest animal in “Snow White” or as one of the puppets in “Pinocchio.”) Animation is magical to me. I am literally drawn to the colors, the characters, the stories and the overall feeling that “everything will be all right in the end.” If this is a quirk, I gladly accept it with all the candy-coated optimism such an attribute implies. After all, without optimism we have nothing.

A second quality of mine is that animals love me. I’ve been told by many pet owners that their dog or cat is usually hesitant or fearful around most people, but feel immediately at ease around me. I’m not sure if it’s because I smell like a butcher shop or I remind them of a fire hydrant they once peed on, but I definitely have a kinship with our four legged friends. And I don’t mean in a Horse Whisperer sort of way; more like an understanding of what it’s like to be the underdog. (Literally) My black cat, Trey, who appears in the Cat Clips videos, sleeps by my head every night as if there to protect me.

I’m addicted to chocolate chip cookies and peanut butter. (Not at the same time. Although I have tried mixing them in the past, and rather liked the results. Though my waste and teeth do not.)

I don’t drink coffee unless it has some kind of flavored creamer in it. And I don’t mean the powdered kind, which never really provides the fatty creaminess one requires in their cup of coffee. (For more on my coffee requirements, please refer to My Quest for the Perfect Cup of Coffee)

I sleep in the nude. This isn’t really a quirk. More of an advertisement.

I love the glamour and mystique of Old time Hollywood. From the silent comedies of Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, to the Film Noir classics of the thirties and forties, to the big MGM musicals of the fifties and sixties, I’m a classic film buff. (I also like movies produced after the sixties, but there is something very special about the older films that I truly appreciate. ) Hitchcock is one of my personal favorites.

And finally, and probably most significantly, my constant need to “create” is one of the driving forces in my life. It doesn’t really matter what form it takes (playwriting, drawing, singing, blog writing, making movies, etc.), as long as it gives me the opportunity to express myself. That is what gives me the most pleasure, and is probably my biggest quirk. Though I think of it as more of a gift. And if others happen to like what I create, that’s just icing on the cake.

But that’s just me. What are your six “qualities” that people might consider quirky?

Mouth Organ Karaoke--MAMMA MIA!

To help celebrate the upcoming new movie "Mamma Mia!," The Rubber Duck Players have come up with their own interpretation of ABBA's classic song. So please click on the photo above to watch this short one-minute movie from the popular Mouth Organ Karaoke series.

Mouth Organ Karaoke--Summer Nights

Please click on the photo above to watch a short one-minute film from the "Mouth Organ Karaoke" series. In this video, the Rubber Duck Players perform their rendition of "Summer Nights" from the hit musical "Grease," accompanied by the Hohner Organ in my mouth.

Deer Droppings--Celebrity Obsession

Please click on the photo above to watch a short one-minute film from the "Deer Droppings" series called "Celebrity Obsession." The video is a song parody of "Supercalifragilistic..." from "Mary Poppins," lampooning America's obsession with celebrity.

Putting Peeling Personalities Out to Pasture

When I was in elementary school, I remember reading about an Indian tribe that had a pretty distinct way of dealing with their elderly. They would take them out into the wilds of the forest and leave them there to die. Because in this particular culture, any person who became feeble or needy was considered a burden to the rest of the tribe. So instead of caring for these aging individuals through their “Golden Years,” they cut their losses and ran. I even remember the colorful illustration used to demonstrate the idea. It was of a young Indian boy pulling his Grandmother on a sleigh through the snow. In the distance, we could see a dense forest where the young man would presumably deposit his cargo. I can only imagine how uncomfortable that kind of good-bye would be.

“Nice visiting with you, Grandma. Hope you don’t get eaten by the wolves. Bye!”

The practice seemed so outlandish to me that I thought it was a joke. And yet, sometimes I wonder if a slightly altered version of this idea might not be beneficial in today’s celebrity obsessed society. For example, wouldn’t it be great to never have to see Paris Hilton again? True, she’s a little young to be put out to Pasture, but could we please put her out of the spotlight? Take her out to some forest somewhere, drop her off, and be done with it. And if the wolves get her, so be it.

I bring this up, because I recently witnessed Christopher Walken host an uncomfortably long and unfunny episode of “Saturday Night Live” in which he read off cue cards for the entire show. Not only that, but he didn’t even read them well. And he rarely, if ever, turned to the actor he was supposed to be talking to. The fact that you could literally see him reading all his lines made me wonder why they ever allowed him to host the show in the first place. Was someone else too busy? I know Mr. Walken has been very successful hosting SNL in the past, but it seems the genre should no longer be a part of his resume. (To add insult to injury, SNL showed the same horrible episode two weeks later, as if a repeat of the disaster might warrant it an instant classic.)

While it’s true I’ve never really been a fan of Christopher Walken, I understand why other people might find his odd, disjointed delivery of dialogue fascinating. However, if you’ve ever worked with the Meisner Technique in an acting class, you’ll realize Mr. Walken never progressed past Lesson One. Just because you put a pause in a weird place in the middle of the sentence does not make you an exceptional actor. Especially if you use the same tired technique in every role you’ve ever played. Which always made me wonder—is Mr. Walken really talented, or is society just desperate for a new method of speaking?

At any rate, I would put Mr. Walken on my list of actors needing a little trip to the forest. Not that I’m suggesting anyone leave him there to die, but perhaps enrolling him in a nice Summer Camp for Seniors or committing him to a Rest Home for the Syllabically Challenged might be good alternatives.

On a completely different note, does anyone really know what’s “Straight Up” with Paula Abdul? After her recent “mishap” this week on “American Idol,” you have to wonder if the paint isn’t beginning to crack a little on this well-known celebrity. For years, there’s been speculation about Paula’s mental health, as well as her “alleged” reliance on drugs and/or alcohol to keep her going. But Tuesday night’s “weirdness” reached a whole new level of bizarre. When Paula began critiquing singers on their second song before they’d even sung it, the credibility of both the star and the show were brought into question. Was she confused? Was she drunk? Or did she have some kind of out-of-body experience that magically projected her into the future? (I’m betting on the latter.)

Whatever the case, Paula was not on her game that night. She appeared particularly distracted and confused, and even more “Lost” than the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815. Perhaps like Christopher Walken, Paula is ready for her sled ride to oblivion. After all, it’s always better to go out when you’re on top, than when people get tired of your antics. Unfortunately, in both of the above cases, the celebrity in question is totally oblivious to their own oblivion. (Maybe Hallmark should make a card for such an occasion. Like a “Happy Retirement” card with a projected expiration date. That way, we can put fading celebrities out of their misery long before they make us miserable watching them fade.)

But that’s just me. What celebrity would you like put out to pasture?

The Light and Fluffy “Cry Baby” Packs a Powerful Dancing Punch

"Cry Baby," based on the 1990 movie starring Johnny Depp, is the second John Waters movie to be turned into a Broadway musical. Though currently in previews, I decided to catch a recent performance of the musical to see how it compared with "Hairspray," Water’s first Broadway outing. And while it’s not really fair to assume these shows would be similar, it’s inevitable to compare them because the writing team is the same for both. The musical elements of the show, however, were written by somebody else. And while the music is fun and peppy, it's not as crisp and laser-perfect as the score for “Hairspray” was. The show also doesn’t include an underlining social commentary, except maybe Rich vs. Poor, a theme so uncomfortably prevalent in today’s society that it almost comes across as passé.

This is not to say that “Cry Baby” isn’t a lot of fun, because it is. Like Cotton Candy, it’s light, airy and full of fluff; a colorful calliope of sugary confection. But also like Cotton Candy, you know as soon as you take a bite of it, you’ll be left with nothing but air. In other words, there is nothing particularly original or ground-breaking about the story, the characters, or the so-called plot of the show. It’s the tried-and-true tale of the socially elite good girl who falls for the morally ambiguous bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Grease meets West Side Story meets Happy Days. But who cares? I doubt anyone is going to see this show for intellectual stimulation. And for those non-discriminatory people, “Cry Baby” delivers whole-heartedly. The stars of the show are pitch perfect in their campy characterizations, including “Frasier” alumni Harriet Harris as the prim and proper Aunt.

But the one element that sets “Cry Baby” apart from other musicals on Broadway is the amazing display of athletic and energetic dancing by the supporting cast. Rob Ashford’s choreography is truly incredible. His first-rate dancers appear to be made of rubber, as they bounce, jump and fly across the stage. It’s almost animalistic at times, even primeval. Or at least that’s what I assumed as I watched one particularly nimble male dancer shake and gyrate so aggressively, it appeared as if he was auditioning for gay porn. (Or maybe he already has.)

So if you’re looking for pure escapist fun, with a fun rock and roll sensibility, “Cry Baby” will knock your socks off.

Celebrity Mystery in Madrid

Please click on the photo above to watch another episode in the "Celebrity Mystery" series. In this installment, Fritz Freewhenever travels to Madrid, Spain to investigate another series of bizarre celebrity sightings, including Antonio Banderas and Penelope Cruz.

Mouth Organ Karaoke--TWO SHOES, ONE BOOT

Please click on the photo above to watch a short film from the "Mouth Organ Karaoke" series, which seems like a perfect fit for April Fool's Day! (Not to be confused with the other YouTube series which began with "Two Girls, One Cup.")

The Anemic and Apathetic Acting of Nicholas Cage

Could someone please tell Nicholas Cage to wake up? Or at least express some kind of emotion other than boredom. Lately, it seems like he’s walking through his films with an indifference one might interpret as condescension—as if he believes his talent is far better than the material he’s appearing in. (Which frankly doesn’t say much about either.)

I recently saw two of Mr. Cage’s more recent movies “The Wicker Man” and “Next,” and couldn’t believe how similar the characters were. Not only that, but they also both shared the same bad hairstyle, which looked like a cross between Bozo the clown and Gene Wilder from “Young Frankenstein.” (Or even Frankenstein himself.) I’m pretty sure Mr. Cage is losing his hair, or has already lost it and is now attempting to cover it up with some kind of rat’s nest. But no matter how follicly challenged he might be, the Albert Einstein inspired hairpiece is not a flattering alternative. Better to be bald than run around looking like the male Amy Winehouse.

In both films, Mr. Cage plays the typical Nice-Guy-Next-Door with a quiet determination to be the dullest Sad Sack you ever witnessed on screen. His non-committal acting style comes across as arrogant and self-indulgent, as if he doesn’t even have enough energy or desire to say his lines or show any emotion other than apathy. His facial expression appears to be permanently frozen in a sour semi-frown, perhaps indicating his distaste for the crappy material he must constantly appear in to maintain his A-List status. What happened to the happier days of “Birdy” or “Moonstruck” or even “Leaving Las Vegas”? Those were inspired Nicholas Cage movies, before he began taking himself too seriously and literally “checking out” from his films.

Because other than trying to turn a quick profit with a mediocre product, there is simply no other explanation why a piece of crap like “The Wicker Man” ever got past the editing room floor. It is not only boring and contrived, but the “shocking” ending is more of a relief than a tragedy. At least we didn’t have to watch Mr. Cage try to “act” anymore. (That is, if you can actually call what he was doing “acting.” Because to me it didn’t look like he even showed up for work. His body was certainly there, but I’m not sure where the rest of him was.) If you haven’t seen the film, don’t bother. It’s pointless. He dies. And guess what? You won’t even care.

Which brings me to the other Nicholas Cage vehicle, “Next,” where Mr. Cage once again plays a mopey Nice-Guy-Next-Door, who also happens to have a special power--he can see two minutes into the future, so he knows everything that’s going to happen right before it does. And you know what? So does the audience. Except we know what’s going to happen twenty minutes before. Or perhaps an hour. So maybe the audience has special powers too, and it’s really Mr. Cage who needs to catch up.

And don’t even get me started on Julianne Moore’s ridiculous interpretation of an FBI Officer in the film. (Or whatever she was.) Her scowl-ridden performance is not only a complete contradiction to her wrinkle-free image as a spokesperson for Revlon, but it’s also incredibly similar to other roles she’s played in the past. Only this time, she’s blended them all together into a Stepford version of herself, showing even less emotion than Mr. Cage (if such a thing is possible).

In conclusion, I hope if Mr. Cage continues with his acting career, he picks projects that he’s actually excited about doing, so that we’ll finally see some of that energy on screen. Because right now, I feel like I’m watching the video game version of his character, rather than the actual three dimensional person.

But that’s just me. What do you think of Nicholas Cage’s recent acting endeavors? (Or even his hair?)

The Brilliance of the Broadway Bound “Billy Elliot”

Just got back from London for a quick trip with my friend Celia. While we were there, I decided to take in the British smash hit musical, “Billy Elliot” which is based on the critically acclaimed movie of the same name. It was my second time seeing the Elton John/Lee Hall musical, and I was equally impressed upon a second viewing. The brilliance of the book and score, which intermingles the tragic plight of poor mineworkers in a Northern England town with the artistic awakening of a young boy, makes for a very exciting and moving theatrical experience.

But what makes the experience even more fascinating is the unique casting process for the main character. For there is not just one “Billy Elliot” playing the role at any given time, but rather five different boys. So depending on what night you see the show, you might be seeing a slightly different performance. Because while each “Billy” is equally talented, his choreography and individual dance numbers are catered to that particular boy’s strengths, giving the audience a rare glimpse into the life of that particular boy. It also makes each performance unique and exciting, as the rest of the ensemble always has a new interpretation of the character to play off.

On the night I saw it, a black actor was playing Billy. There have also been Asian “Billys” and perhaps even Hispanic, but it matters not. The essence of Billy is in everyone, and by casting talent over authenticity, the producers are wisely capitalizing on the mass appeal this character has.

I believe the training process for the character is pretty long and fairly extensive as well. Potential “Billys” must go through a year or more of dance, vocal and acting lessons before they can even attempt to do the role. (Or some such rigorous timeframe.) And once you see the show, you can understand why. The role is demanding, both physically and emotionally, and the show would not succeed if the performer did not have incredibly strong acting, singing and dancing chops. And for someone so young to be able to perform such a feat is truly amazing. By the end of the show, you have fallen in love with Billy, his family, his dancing coach, and indeed the town itself, and you also leave the theater feeling energized by hope. The juxtaposition of this long-suffering town of mineworkers with Billy’s emergence as a naturally-gifted talent is an incredible piece of theater to experience, and there are moments in the play that will simply take your breath away.

So with that being said, I am both anxious and nervous for “Billy Elliot” to make its debut on Broadway this Fall. I have heard they may change it to appease the American sensibility, perhaps even moving the local from a British town to one in Pennsylvania. To me, this would be a mistake. The charm of the show is that we are viewing a way of life that is foreign to many of us anyway, and by Americanizing it, I think they change the story. I would hope that American theatergoers are not so superficial as to require major rewrites or different accents to make the show more accessible. It is what it is, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

So here’s hoping the Broadway Bound “Billy Elliot” brings as much joy to American audiences as it has to the London theater crowd for over two years now. It is simply Brilliant!
But that’s just me. What did you think of London’s “Billy Elliot”?

Secret Society of Celebrities

Please click on the link below to watch another humorous report featuring Fritz Freewhenever investigating mysterious celebrity sightings in Plainfield. The link will open up a new window on YouTube. 

Secret Society of Celebrities

Enjoy!

A Tepid Taste for Technology

I have always been a little behind the times when it comes to accepting new forms of technology. After all, I’d barely mastered the computer before the Internet suddenly became a staple of our lives. And without any sense of vision on my part, I never thought the World Wide Web “fad” would actually catch on. How wrong I was.

I was much the same way when it came to purchasing a cell phone. For years, I was convinced I didn’t need one, and would never fall victim to this new fangled contraption. But of course, my job soon made the purchase a necessity, because without a cell phone you really don’t exist in the business world. Or anywhere, for that matter. (My ten-year-old niece even has a cell phone, though I can’t even imagine who she might need to call on a regular basis. The Hannah Montana hotline?)

My point is, when did technology become so accelerated that tomorrow’s discovery is already yesterday’s news? How fast do you have to be to actually stay ahead of the curve? Or is that even possible any more?

The reason I bring this up is because I recently needed some accessories for my Sony HD camera, but was having difficulty finding my model number listed on the Sony website. So I called their Customer Service Hotline for assistance, only to discover my camera was already considered an “older model” and therefore no longer listed on the main site.

“It’s not an older model,” I said. “I just bought it last year.”

“Here at Sony, the technology changes so fast,” the Customer Service Rep said with a giggle. “Even if your camera is a year old, it’s already been updated and enhanced so many times by newer versions, that it now falls under the older model classification.”

“Stop calling it old,” I practically yelled. “I bought it last year when it was supposedly the hottest camera on the market. And now you’re telling me that within the space of a year it’s already become obsolete?”

“No. But a year is like a decade at Sony,” the female rep offered. “We’re always on the cutting edge of innovation, so what’s new today is already old by tomorrow.”

I was shocked. Did that mean that every piece of technology I owned is already considered an antique? Could the iPod I bought six months ago already be eligible for Social Security? Maybe I should try and get on a show like “Cash in the Attic” or “Antique Roadshow” to discover just how much these popular relics might fetch in the modern marketplace. (I’m thinking not much.)

Technology has gotten so advanced that the evolution of a product from First Release to Tenth might happen within the space of a month rather than several years. The need to somehow “top” the last version with a whole new set of “bells and whistles” is enough to drive the average consumer crazy. (Or at least me.) How can we possibly hope to keep up? And why do we need to? Is it really necessary for me to see a movie in such crystal clear digitalization that I can spot a nose hair growing out of Jack Nicholson’s nostril? I think not.

(And don’t even get me started on the whole BlueRay BS. I have no desire to purchase one of those, because I know in two years it will be replaced by something even better. And I am not about to start my DVD collection all over again in another format. I already made the expensive transition from VHS to DVD, and I won’t be suckered into that again.)

Manufacturers are supposed to be reliable when it comes to replacing parts for all their models, especially if those products are released within the last five or ten years. But now products are developing so quickly and advancing so rapidly, manufacturers no longer see products as long-term purchases. So the support we once counted on might also become a thing of the past.

As for getting the parts I need for my camera, perhaps I’ll check the local “Big Lots Close-Out Warehouse” to see if any of the accessories have reached the bargain bin yet. Or maybe I should search eBay under “limited editions” or “rare collectibles.” Yet no matter what I do, I know it's not a long-term solution, as my camera’s life expectancy seems to be shortening by the day. By next month, I'll probably have to start searching for its cemetery plot.

But that’s just me. What’s your take on technology?

Celebrity Mystery in Plainfield NJ

Hit the play button above to watch a humorous story about celebrity sightings in my hometown. Just another example of the strange things happening around here.

The Key to Kyle XY

How did a show about a boy without a belly button become so intriguing? And I don’t mean because the storylines always contain a nice blend of science fiction and soap opera. I’m intrigued because some of the topics are pretty risqué, especially given that it’s an ABC Family Channel show. For example, past episodes have included pretty frank discussions of teenage sex, pornography, infidelity, pot smoking, alcohol and drug abuse, cancer and even masturbation. Not the typical subject matter you’d expect to find in a Disney produced vehicle. But there it is nonetheless, cleverly mixed in with mystery and adventure, so you don’t notice as much.

Granted, these issues might not be new to network television, but they are somewhat new to family television. Except that ABC touts itself as “a different kind of family,” so I guess that means we don’t have to pretend we’re living in the 50s anymore. But does that also mean that Disney might try to instill this new kind of honesty into their other iconic stories? Imagine an updated version of “Cinderella” where the stepsisters complain about nothing but menstruation and cheating boyfriends. Or a modern day “Pinocchio” where the little wooden puppet is put in jail for executing indecent acts with his nose. And I shudder to think what might happen between Snow White and those seven little men.

Don’t get me wrong. I like this honest approach to such mature subject matter; I’m just surprised the producers haven’t gotten a lot of flack for doing it. Maybe it’s because the show is partly Science Fiction, so the conservative family organizations don’t give it much attention. They figure since there’s no such thing as a genetically created human being, there must also be no such thing as masturbation and drug abuse? Or maybe because Kyle has amazing powers and super-human intelligence, not to mention great eyes and a killer smile, they equate him with another immaculately conceived human being? (Oh come on, you don’t think there are some pretty heavy Jesus overtones in Kyle XY?)

At any rate, I like this show. The various members of Kyle’s extended family have grown on me; particularly the brother, who has matured into a good little actor. Some of the most poignant moments from last season were scenes when he and his “girlfriend” were going through the hardships of talking about her Cancer.

And then there’s Matt Dallas, who is unabashedly charming and innocent as Kyle. He was a good choice for this role, because there is something almost inhuman about him. His line readings are sometimes mechanical, and his facial expressions somewhat limited, but that only lends to his credibility as a manufactured object. Though, for the entire first season, I thought maybe he was wearing a wig because his hair always looked the same. Even in a windstorm, it had that “fresh-out-of-the-package-and-glued-to-the-head” kind of look. But in Season Three, it looks like he’s progressed beyond that style.

Too bad he can’t also progress beyond his annoying girlfriend, whose pouting and prissy personality is as bland as Tilapia. After two years of playing the martyr, I think it’s time she moved to college for good. And took her mean old mother with her.

But until that happens, I’ll still tune in to see what taboo topics the show plans to investigate this year. Maybe Kyle’s female counterpart Jessie will decide she really wants to be a transsexual or a cross-dresser, or both. Or Kyle’s supportive adopted parents will start a weekly “key party,” where they begin swapping more than stories with the neighbors. Whatever the major themes might become, you can bet that Kyle XY will explore them with honesty and integrity. Because that is the key to Kyle XY. The show has heart. And with heart, you can conquer anything.

But that’s just me. What do you think of Kyle XY?

The Dark Comic Genius of Alec Baldwin

Alec Baldwin has always been a favorite of mine, ever since I first saw him in “Married to the Mob” oh so many decades ago. And despite his many embarrassing scandals in the press, I still consider him to be a great comic talent. His deadpan expressions and masterful delivery are one of the best things about NBC’s often hilarious, “30 Rock.”

On the show, Alec is basically playing the same arrogant and twisted character he played on “Will and Grace,” and several other sitcoms. But here he has elevated the persona to iconic status, forever insuring his place among television’s great comedic characters. Unfortunately, his problematic personal life threatens to undo all this. (I still cringe at the embarrassing phone message he left for his pig-faced daughter. Or rather, the daughter he called a selfish little pig, which is not exactly a term of endearment.)

Ironically, I’ve actually witnessed this darker side of Mr. Baldwin, when I happened to see him several years ago as he was coming out of the Equinox Gym on the Upper West Side. Dressed in a very unflattering grey sweat suit, and sporting a white towel around his neck, he looked like a pasty-faced donut maker rather than a Hollywood Leading Man. As he brushed past me talking on his cell phone, I couldn’t help but overhear his rather loud conversation. That’s because he wasn’t actually talking. He was sort of yelling. Screaming, actually. At someone I assumed must be his manager or agent, because the conversation sounded something like this:

“Don’t they know who they’re dealing with? Do they seriously think I would work for that? If they want Alec Baldwin, they’re going to have to come up with more money. I don’t do charity work.”

Ironically, the next time I crossed paths with Mr. Baldwin was at a rather swanky charity event we were both attending. Actually, he was the one attending it, and I was there to work. I was hired to play Batman for the event, which is not my specialty or anything; I just happened to be good friends with an event planner and he used to throw me these side gigs every now and then. Put on a costume, parade around a party for a couple hours, and go home with three hundred dollars. Humiliating, yes. Lucrative, sort of. Rewarding, no.

At one point during the evening, Alec breezed past me on his way to the V.I.P. area, and I saw him look at me for a moment. Was he about to say something clever or witty? Or perhaps engage me in a little friendly repartee? Dream on. I think he may have smirked at my costume, but that’s about it.

Later, I saw him sitting at the top of the stairs behind me, perhaps frowning down at my very existence. (See top photo, me in Batman suit with Alec sitting at top of stairs. Bottom photo, horribly pixilated close-up of Alec sitting at top of stairs. Is that a camera he’s holding? Is he actually taking a picture of the back of my costume? Yikes!)

Despite all this, I am still enamored of the man and his talent. His comic skills have been highlighted over and over again on “Saturday Night Live” and other TV shows, in films and theater, as well as his current brilliance on “30 Rock.” And though his personal life may be in constant turmoil, his life in front of the camera is nothing but winning.

But that’s just me. What do you think of Alec Baldwin?

Dear Disney, Make Mine a Magical Menken Musical

When I was growing up, I loved to escape into the fantasy worlds of Disney animated features. There were Heroes and Magical Creatures, Princesses and Villains, Talking Animals and Enchanted Puppets, and lots and lots of singing and dancing.

Then there was a long stretch of time when Disney animated films seemed passé, and going to horror films and serious drama was all the rage. I began to think of Disney as kid’s stuff and didn’t care about seeing those G-rated movies any more. After all, I was in college and wouldn’t be caught dead at a kiddie film.

Then "The Little Mermaid" hit the scene in 1989, and ushered in a new era of Disney animated films, featuring the music of Alan Menken and the lyrics of Howard Ashman. Finally, after decades of tuneless toons, characters were singing and dancing once again. In fact, with the emergence of “Beauty and the Beast” a few years later, musically enhanced cutlery replaced talking animals as the Toon Du Jour. And I found myself loving these movies. They again allowed me to escape into a fantasy world that was safe and happy and musical. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Then Mr. Ashman died in 1991, leaving Menken to work with other lyricists. He finished the musical elements for the movie “Aladdin” with the help of Tim Rice, and then worked with Stephen Schwartz on “Pocahontas” and “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” My personal favorite was the technically brilliant “Hercules,” which has a wonderfully upbeat score that I find myself singing even today.

And what was really cool is that the openings of these movies became major events. “Pocahontas” premiered in Central Park, “The Lion King” premiered at Radio City Music Hall, and “Hercules” premiered at the newly renovated New Amsterdam Theater, along with a huge electrical light parade and live stage show. The Disney animated cartoon had suddenly become the trendiest ticket in town. Everybody was going to see them.

But then it all of a sudden it stopped, and the Disney cartoon suffered a backlash. People complained of formula scripts that catered to singing and technical wizardry rather than the story and characters. And, of course, computer animation suddenly became the rage, and people began looking at Disney’s 2-Dimensional offerings as archaic.

So Alan Menken went on to write other things, and Disney stopped making musicals. Other than a few songs for the easily forgotten “Home on the Range,” there hasn’t been a big Disney-Menken effort in over a decade. And that is much too long.

I guess all this rambling leads to one thing: I want another big splashy Disney animated movie with a score by Alan Menken and lots and lots of singing and dancing furniture. Or whatever the latest inanimate object to come to life might be. An iPod? A Gameboy? A Blackberry? I don’t care what it is, as long as they burst into song for the big “Be Our Guest” type number, and shoot pixels fireworks all over their keypads.

Okay, enough rambling. Anyone else out there agree with me?

The Case of the Dueling Frankensteins

This season, Broadway audiences have two versions of the Frankenstein story to choose from. Both are musicals, and both ironically, star one of the famous Foster children, Hunter and Sutton. And while each production is an original interpretation or reinvention of Mary Shelley’s classic novel, I don’t think either lives up to the hype surrounding it.

First, let’s start with the Off-Broadway production of “Frankenstein,” which was developed as a “bold new theatrical experience.” I think they’ve since dropped that tagline, calling it simply a “musical” instead. (After all, “Bold” and “Experience” is a lot to live up to.) The first thing one notices is that the set is constructed of what looks like wrought iron and piping. It is very stark, black and unnervingly dull, a foreshadowing of how the rest of the evening will play out. For this musical is not your typical uplifting songfest, but rather a bleak, stripped down version of a book that “tells” us more than it “shows.” So in a sense, the actors are reading us the book rather than actually showing us anything that happens.

The dramatic highlight of such a show might be the moment where the monster first comes to life, seeing how the doctor achieved such a feat. But in this version, that pivotal moment is glossed over with little more than a song telling us it happened. (And don’t expect any great make-up on the Frankenstein monster, either. He looks more like a bald leather man you’d see at a local gay bar, his green pallor traded in for a shaved head and some fetching chaps.)

The color palette for the show is black and grey, with a little white thrown in to make sure we can see the actors. The lighting is stark, the sets are dark, the costumes are dull, and the music is tediously slow. I will never understand why a musical interpretation of a gothic novel means the songs must be slow and plodding as if the only thing people sang in centuries past were ballad songs and funeral dirges. I’m not saying a musical about a living monster has to be upbeat, but at least throw in a tune once in a while that will keep us awake. With the black set, black costumes, slow music and little action, the show offers little to keep audiences in their seats. (At the preview performance I attended, many people left at intermission, including myself.)

Am I being unfairly mean to the musical? After all, it’s Off-Broadway. You can’t expect it to have the lavish production values of its older, bigger sister. But you can expect it to be entertaining. Or at least riveting. And though the stage was filled with talented performers, Hunter Foster and Christiane Noll among them, they couldn’t rise above the dreariness of the production.

That leaves us with “Young Frankenstein,” Mel Brook’s big sparkling new musical adaptation of his classic movie. The show has generated a boatload of hype, as anything connected with Mr. Brooks tends to do, and is easily one of the most anticipated shows of the season. So I went to see it expecting to be blown away, or at least have an evening full of laughter. And that is, I’m sorry to say, what’s sadly missing from this huge Broadway extravaganza. While it’s undeniably a lot of fun to watch, it’s just not that funny.

The sets are amazing, the costumes are great, the actors are all very talented, and the show is guaranteed to be a huge hit. Especially with out-of-towners. But the classic lines we’ve heard so many times in the famous films tend to sound flat when delivered on stage. The audience still laughs, but it’s more out of obligation. After all, there is nothing subtle about this production. The actors try very hard to punch the lines, deliver the gags and keep the action moving. But with little heart underneath it, there are long sections where the show is actually rather dull. Even with all the high tech scenery and effects to distract us.

Roger Bart is fine as the lead, though at times he seems to be channeling Mario Cantone with his high pitched screeching. Everyone else in the cast is also very talented, and sometimes there are moments of sheer brilliance (the hay ride scene and “Putting on the Ritz” number are highlights of the show). But the overall effect is like eating cotton candy. There’s a lot of fluff to look at, but not much substance when you actually begin eating.

But that's just me. If you have a different opinion about either of these shows, feel free to share it.

You Have No Idea, I Think I Peed a Little, and Other Overused Jokes in Film and TV

Ever since Jeremy Irons uttered the famous words “You have no idea” in the movie “Reversal of Fortune,” the phrase has become a standard punch line in hundreds of movie and television scripts. It’s an easy joke, as you can put almost any question in front of it and you’re guaranteed a laugh.

“You’re a rather odd person, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea.”

“Is your mother a bad cook?”
“You have no idea.”

“This phrase is horribly overused, don’t you think?”
“You have no idea.”

You’ve probably heard this expression many times without even realizing it. Maybe you even laughed at the reference in every single sitcom it’s ever been employed in. But now that you’re aware movie and television writers use it repeatedly, you’ll be more tuned in to how many times you actually hear it.

Another phrase/joke that has been drummed into our heads is “I think I peed a little.” I can’t even remember what movie or TV show this first appeared in. But soon after that, the joke was used so many times it wasn’t funny anymore. The saying usually occurs when someone is laughing very hard and can’t seem to stop long enough to control their urinary functions. The first time it was used, it was very funny. The second time, it was mildly amusing. But now that it’s become a standard expression in pop culture, I’m beginning to wonder if our nation has a much more serious problem on our hands. Since so many people seem to be affected by Uncontrollable Bladder Syndrome.

My point is, I’m tired of writers going for the easy joke. When I hear the same kind of dialogue and jokes used over and over again, it’s an insult to my intelligence. It’s like saying “You’ve heard this joke before, but you’re so dumb, you won’t realize it’s the same joke if I change the words around a little.” Well, guess what? We’re not that dumb. We know when someone is ripping off an old joke to fill a space. It makes for boring television.

Sitcoms are the worst examples of repeated dialogue. The same writers tend to be moved around in Hollywood, shuffling from one sitcom to another, or one drama to another. So it’s understandable that they bring their same style with them from project to project. But do they also have to bring the same jokes? Can’t they come up with something original they haven’t used before? No wonder there aren’t many sitcoms on television right now. The writers have obviously run out of fresh ideas, and the public is tired of the same recycled material.

But that’s just me. What overused phrases have you noticed on TV or in films?