Showing posts with label stars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stars. Show all posts

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Dancing with the Scars

What would we ever do without Tom Bergeron and Samantha Whatsherface to keep us entertained between the Paso Dobles and the Cha Chas on “Dancing with the Stars?” His sometimes witty patter and her inane interviewing style are all we need to keep our brains nice and mushy during the entire two hour marathon. That is, if all the stars are actually able to make it to the taping of the show. Because this season in particular, it seems like there is a new devastating injury a week that will either hinder a contestant, or throw them out of the competition altogether.

The cynical side of me even wonders if perhaps the accidents are now built into the contracts, as a sure fire way to keep ratings up and viewers interested. If you twist an ankle, you get featured in a special segment and sympathy votes are sure to come your way by the millions. Especially if you manage to keep yourself upright for the entire minute and a half routine, or faint right afterwards like Marie Osmond did so cleverly a few seasons back. When octogenarian Cloris Leachman was on the show, she never sustained an injury. Well, not a life-threatening physical injury anyway. But her ridiculous antics and constant need for attention forever changed my view of her as a consummate professional.

And even though the casualties keep coming, there’s never a fear that the dancing will be over any time soon. For waiting in the wings is a never-ending collection of has-beens, wanna-bes, and whotheheckaretheys to step in at a moment’s notice to take their place. I mean, honestly, the nude guy from the shower scene in the “Sex and the City” movie? Does he really qualify as a star? Does anyone even know his name? I mean, I know the term “star” is totally overused for contestants like that Jilted Woman from “The Bachelor,” but when one nude scene qualifies you for stardom, there’s something definitely wrong with our value system.

But that’s just me. What do you think about the current crop on “Dancing with the Stars”?

As a special added bonus, I have included a “Dog Days” clip that features one dog’s dreams of someday being on the show. To watch the one minute video, please click on the photo below.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Does a Desire for Dance Denote a Decade of Depression?

There has been a very interesting phenomenon taking place in the last few years which is both encouraging and disturbing. I’m speaking of the reemergence of dance into our national psyche. With a slew of shows, from the ever-tacky and totally addictible “Dancing with the Stars” to the more exciting “So You Think You Can Dance” to the horribly dull “Dance Wars: Carrie Ann vs. Bruno” (should have been renamed “Dance Bores”), America has been lapping up dance shows with a hunger I’ve never witnessed before.

When I was a child, I loved to dance. I would put on my records and dance around the living room as if I were Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire. It wasn’t until later, when I tried dancing around my first grade classroom that I discovered this was not acceptable behavior for a boy. The unfortunate consequences I experienced later on the playground further solidified my realization that dance was something best left to the girls. Of course, when I was in college and started going out to clubs, dancing was an acceptable part of the dating ritual. (Though I also learned you should never look like you’re enjoying it too much. Just bob your head and move your body, and keep a slight grimace on your face. That was acceptable dance protocol in my neck of the woods.)

But now dancing has come back with a vengeance, with unlikely support from macho sport stars like Emmet Smith and Helio Castroneves. It almost feels like “opposite day,” because even ballroom dancing has become “cool” again. But why is this phenomenon occurring now? Why are Americans so thirsty for talent, and entertainment, and a good pirouette? Could it be that the last four or five years have been so stressful, and the current state of the economy so scary, that we are harkening back to the days of the Great Depression when big Hollywood musicals were the best escape from the harsh reality of life?

Seems plausible. Only this time it’s different, because there appears to be a new respect for dancing, fueled by wild new moves of energetic street performers and new dance forms like crumping and hip hop. So though I am very happy that dancing has become “cool” again, I’m afraid it points to a much bigger problem. Depression. When people are depressed, or when there is a depressed economy, people naturally turn to something that is out of the norm. They gravitate towards fantasy or romance stories, and find comfort in the energy and talent they observe in extraordinary individuals. No wonder talent competitions of all kinds have emerged over the last few years. We need someone to root for. Someone to throw our support behind. Someone who will ultimately unify as a country. How appropriate that we turn to an art form that is the ultimate expression of man’s strength and versatility, of his creative and emotional capacity, of his triumph over challenges and difficulty. If only our country’s leaders had a little more of those qualities, we might not be in the current state we’re in.

Even Paul Abdul, not the brightest lightbulb in the lamp, seems to have hit upon the current collective thought with her appropriately titled "I Want to Dance Like There's No Tomorrow." I'm hoping the song isn't also prophetic as well.

But that’s just me. What do you think of the current dance craze?

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Bird Bits--Future Star

Please click on the photo above to watch a one-minute video from the "Bird Bits" series entitled "Future Star." In this episode, two male birds discuss the star potential of a singing Bluebird.

What can I say? I have a lot of time on my hands.

Friday, May 2, 2008

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?

Thursday, April 10, 2008

"Filler Television" Pads Programming with Unnecessary Bulk

How dumb do television producers think we are? Apparently pretty dumb, based on the growing phenomenon known as “filler television” that seems to permeate a number of very popular TV shows. And I don’t even know if “filler television” is the correct term for all the “padding” producers use to extend their lack of content into longer programs; but it seems like an appropriate moniker.

If you’re not sure what I’m referring to, I will give you some examples. “American Idol” is the biggest and most popular abuser of “filler” television, especially when they extend a two-minute elimination ceremony into an hour-long event. (Or a two-hour event, in the case of the overly hyped season finales.) Having little original content in which to fill the time slot, they regurgitate footage of the last episode over and over again until our brains are turned to mush. To me, this is insulting. Why would I want to sit through highlights of a show I saw only last night? Do they really think I won’t remember what happened unless they replay it for me? Am I really that vacuous?

I also think it’s ridiculous when the show comes back after a commercial break and before we can continue the program, we must sit through five minutes of recap on what we just saw before the break. This is not only insulting, but degrading, as the producers are clearly indicating that we can’t even remember what happened five minutes ago. Which makes me wonder if television is still geared toward the lowest common denominator, or we’ve all just become “the lowest common denominator” because we watch television.

If I want to watch a TV show again, I’ll wait for a rerun. I don’t need you to show it again the next day in bite-size pieces as if I’m suffering from Alzheimer’s. It only contributes to the dumbing down of America when you have to give a recap every twenty-four hours to make sure we're paying attention. Imagine if that convention spilled over into “real life,” and someone would have to remind you the day after your wedding that you’d actually gone through with it.

“Last night, the couple fought for their relationship in a nail-biting matrimonial ceremony that can only be referred to as ostentatious. Hearts were joined, wine was spilled, and the Best Man ran away with the new Mother-in-Law. Yes, it was an exciting evening of thrills and surprises. But it’s nothing compared with what the Honeymoon might offer. Stay tuned for upcoming scenes.

All I can say is, Thank God for DVR. It used to be that I would only use it this helpful recording device to fast forward through commercial breaks. But now I’ve found that I can actually fast forward through most of the shows, too. Last night, I watched the results show for “Dancing with the Stars” in a record-breaking four minutes. And you know what? I didn’t miss a thing. And today, I feel like some of my brain cells are actually started to regenerate themselves.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Celebrity Mystery in London--LOST FOOTAGE

Please click on the image above to watch a short sequence that was cut from Fritz Freewhenever's latest news report, "Reality Stars on a Rampage."

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Celebrity Mystery in London

Reality Stars on a Rampage? Click on the photo above to watch the latest humorous news report from Fritz Freewhenever on yet another "shocking celebrity mystery." This time from London, England.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

The Totally Corny and Thoroughly Addictive World of “Dancing with the Stars”

By now, you’ve no doubt seen the very uncomfortable footage of Marie Osmond fainting into a messy slump on this week’s “Dancing with the Stars.” As millions of people watched on live television, America’s former Princess of Paper Roses did what every professional dancer hopes never to experience—loose her footing.

But oddly enough, that’s far from the most shocking thing we’ve ever witnessed on this television show. How about macho football stars like Jerry Rice and Emmitt Smith prancing around in sparkly outerwear? Or Beatles extortionist Heather Mills doing the quickstep with only one leg? But my personal favorite was witnessing Mario Lopez pull himself up from “Saved by the Bell” obscurity to emerge as one of television’s hottest hunks. (I still think he was robbed of the title, though.)

When “Dancing with the Stars” first premiered several years ago, I greeted it with all the enthusiasm of a root canal. The cast list reminded me of the formula they would use on the old “Love Boat” or “Fantasy Island” shows, when they would stuff as many TV and movie has-beens into an episode and hope someone would remember them. The term “Star” had eventually gotten so tarnished from over-usage that anyone who appeared in even one national commercial could be featured as a major talent.

So I gladly skipped the first few episodes, not wanting to waste my time witnessing such an obvious train wreck. But then something weird happened. I turned in one day when nothing else was on, and found myself fascinated with the process. Not only did we observe stars humiliating themselves while learning the Tango, but we also caught glimpses of them tripping and falling down in the rehearsal rooms. I wouldn’t call it ground-breaking television, but it was certainly captivating. To see these B or C list celebrities showing such raw vulnerability while learning to do the Cha Cha provides some of the best behind-the-scenes exploitation since Madonna’s “Truth or Dare” in 1991.

After that, I was hooked. I even ventured into watching “So You Think You Can Dance” during the summer hiatus just to get my fix of sweat and adrenaline. And what I realized was that these two shows had single-handedly taken dancing out of the dark ages and given it a fresh new spin for the 21st Century. Not only that, but the often maligned art of Ballroom Dancing was suddenly cooler than Krumping. Dance studios across the country that were once in danger of cobwebs and wrecking balls suddenly saw a resurgence of eager novices dying to learn the intricacies of the Paso Doble.

And that’s what I find so entertaining about the show. It not only gives us weekly lessons on proper form and technique, but it’s also taught us a very valuable lesson--Dancing is not just for Sissies. There’s a lot of hard work and effort that goes into making it look so easy, and I have to admire anyone who attempts doing it. Even if I’ve never heard of them before. Because it doesn’t matter to me whether it’s a celebrity, a quasi-celebrity or someone like Mark Cuban learning the dances, I will gladly cheer them on for their bravery and determination. After all, it takes a lot of guts to wear spandex and sequins with a straight face on national television. And if it weren’t for “Dancing with the Stars,” I might never have known who Drew Lachey and Sabrina Bryan were. (Who?)

And don’t even get me started on the judges. Forget Len and Bruno, who seem to squabble more than an old married couple, the real star of that panel is Carrie Ann Inaba. If for no other reason than her name, which is so much fun to say. (Try saying it five times fast and you’ll begin sounding like a native Bostonian.)

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Pardon Me Boys, Is that the LindsayBritneyParis?

(Sung to the tune of "Chattanooga Choo Choo")

Pardon Me, Boys,
Is that the LindsayBritneyParis?
All clubbing at Hyde,
Boy, can you get me inside?

I want to see…when they start dancing on the tables,
Snorting up Coke,
Or maybe taking a toke.

They cause immediate sensation when they go on the town,
The paparazzi treat them like they’re some kind of clown,
Photos are a mainstay,
Even of Vajajay,
Nothing is off limits with these girls around.

When the party’s over and they go to their cars,
Inebriated bodies that won’t get very far,
Someone drops a doobie,
Someone shows her booby,
Boy, these girls are better than a stripper bar.

They’ve gotta be…the favorite train wreck of the nation,
Six o’clock News,
Their stories give me the blues.

Hearing them speak, you’ll think they all came from the same damn clone,
Oh LindsayBritneyParis, won’t you please just stay home?