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"Tinsel and Lights" by Tracey Thorn - The Complete Package

2012-12-03T00:10:00.000-08:00

I literally just banged my head on both sides because I just cannot believe what I am hearing. It is 12:10am and I am up trying to catch up on, well, everything. Email, bills, posting for my goodblacknews.org website, CDs I’ve purchased weeks ago but haven’t listened to yet. After getting my family holiday card safely ordered via Shutterfly (had to take advantage of that “40% off by Sunday” e-coupon!) I decided to get a jump on making the Holiday Music Mix for the inevitable Christmas gathering at Chez Hutcherson, since there were veiled rumblings about the quality and tenor of my “Thanksgiving Mix” just a mere 11 days ago. So I clicked on iTunes and realized I hadn’t listened to Tracey Thorn’s (of Everything But The Girl fame) “Tinsel And Lights” yet, even though I made an effort to special order it - both the CD and the vinyl directly from her U.S. label, Merge Records, as she no longer records for a major anymore.

I should note now that there are some singers whose voices just do it for me (Stevie Wonder, Aretha Franklin, Billie Holiday, Karen Carpenter, to name a few) - Ms. Thorn is among them and has been ever since I sat in a restaurant on Larchmont Avenue having dinner with friends in the early 90s and heard “Protection” over the restaurant’s sound system. I don’t remember the restaurant’s name or even which friends, but oh, do I remember that song and that voice. Thorn’s ability to evoke simultaneously strength, courage and vulnerability with her voice (and let’s not forget to factor in that gorgeous range and timbre) made me feel like my chest had been cracked open and my heart made to beat outside of it. From that night, I bought as much Everything But The Girl I could find (some singles I found on Napster - this was the 90s, mind you - and spent whole days downloading just one or two rare songs). Although not every track from Thorn and partner Ben Watt was perfect (even though much of their dance music remains sublime to this day - though best known in the U.S. for the “Missing” remix from their “Amplified Heart” CD, the “Temperamental” CD is THE ONE. “Lullaby of Clubland” or “Hatfield 1980”? FORGET IT.), Thorn’s voice always captivated me, bathing me continually in astonishment and awe. “Why is this woman not the most popular singer in the world?” I often wondered. Is it because she’s a Brit and never got enough traction on the U.S. pop charts? But there are/were other Brits who had HUGE pop success stateside in the 80s and 90s, and I find myself buying Japanese imports of Swing Out Sister or Lisa Stansfield CDs to keep up with them… so maybe it’s an age thing? A chick thing? I don’t know, but I am so glad I stick with singers I love and don’t care where or how I have to find their new music because it’s ALWAYS worth it.

Caution: I Can Sing Your Heart Out

Which brings me back to why I was BANGING MY HEAD ten minutes ago. I was listening to “Tinsel and Lights” and my mind was just exploding. Even though it’s a “holiday” CD, it’s easily one of the best CD’s I’ve heard this year, regardless of genre. I mean, it’s right up there with Fiona Apple’s “The Idler Wheel…” masterpiece. (Yes, MASTERPIECE. Listen to “Hot Knife”, “Valentine,” “Werewolf” and then every other track and tell me I’m wrong. Hash arrests be damned, she backed that beauty up big time in concert, too.) Not only are the original Christmas songs gorgeously written and arranged, they sound traditional yet current at the same time. I’m too hyped up to even find the CD to see who produced it, but if it’s not her or Ben Watt, it’s some other musical genius. The first track, “Joy,” immediately takes you there - it feels cold, snowy, yet warm - like white lights seen through inclement weather. The simple piano and her voice blend so well it sounds like one instrument. The next track, “Hard Candy Christmas,” is equally amazing and already one of my all-time favorite Christmas songs. This tune manages to be delightfully sardonic, sad, hopeful and mischevious all at the same time. “Hard Candy” nails perfectly what it feels like to be single during the holidays - so much so it seemed like I stepped into a time machine because I felt every second of it, even though that’s not my life anymore. That’s how good and special this song is. My favorite lyric? “Maybe I’ll sleep real late / maybe I’ll lose some weight / maybe I’ll clear my junk / maybe I’ll just get drunk on apple wine / Me? I’ll be just fine…” And it keeps going on like that. Awesome.

So okay, I’m two songs in and I’m grooving. Thinking I’ll find a way to include both on my mix for the fam, separate them with some Tony Bennett and Donny Hathaway, etc. but definitely get both of them in there. Only problem is, the CD just keeps GETTING BETTER. I could go on about every song, her vocals, the beauty, purity and warmth of approach, but it’s only getting later and the kids have school tomorrow, so I’ll just hit on my absolute favorites. “Maybe This Christmas” - country-style feel, mid-tempo - lyrics about reconnecting with loved ones - a stunner. And then there’s her cover of my all-time favorite popular Christmas song, “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” (as opposed to my all-time favorite traditional one, “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”). Anyway, up until 40 minutes ago, my favorite version of "Have Yourself" was by Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders. Tracey Thorn took it to the place Chrissie took it to (aching, melancholy, saturnine-yet-sanguine), paused for a second, dusted off her Jet Pack and then ROCKETED into the stratosphere with the song. And again, this is with a very simple-yet-creative arrangement of piano and strings that lets her subtle, plaintive, evocative vocals hang the shining star upon the highest bow. When she goes into the second verse, her emotional commitment to the lyrics and meaning of the song even cause her to choke up and drop a word. Wisely, she uses this take and CRICK CRACK there goes my heart out of my chest again. And if you know the history of this song, you know the original lyrics are “Through the years, we will all be together/ if the fates allow / until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow” instead of the “less depressing” “Hang a shining star upon the highest bow” version that has supplanted the original in most remakes. Well, Thorn honors the song by singing the lyrics both ways, wisely placing the original ones last for maximum impact. I could keep going on about her version of this song, but I suppose I should move it along if I don’t want to go into a drop sleep behind the wheel of the mini-van tomorrow.

So, briefly - the other two pieces of EXCELLENCE on this incredibly cohesive, well-planned and sequenced CD of holiday music: Thorn’s immaculate, inventive cover of Joni Mitchell’s “River.” Joni Mitchell, another of my favorite musicians, (I mean, who can write a song like Joni?) KILLS “River” and kind of can’t be paralleled (even though Corinne Bailey Rae’s 2007 cover with Herbie Hancock is definitely on the right side of sublime) so what Thorn does is sing the whole thing backed by, like, French Horns. JUST French horns! And it’s GORGEOUS and it WORKS and it makes it its own thing totally. (*NOTE: I just looked at the liner notes to confirm what I thought I heard and actually, there’s tubas, cornets and trombones mixed in, too - but it is just brass she sings with. Which takes some BRASS.)

The last song I’ll palaver about - though penultimate track “Taking Down The Tree” featuring Green Gartside is the biznass, too - is my other favorite new classic, “Sister Winter.” Written by Sufjan Stevens, I’m not sure if it’s new for this CD or a cover, but regardless, it’s responsible for the HEAD BANGING I mentioned at the beginning of whatever you want to call this piece of writing is. There’s a lot more production on this track than most - very current-sounding, in the Goyte family of sonic experimentation, but so seamlessly employed on this Christmas song, I almost couldn’t take it. But I’m so glad I did. And if my family rags on me for having every other song on this year’s Xmas Mix be from “Tinsel And Lights,” I’ll happily take the shots, because I'll know I’m the one giving them the ultimate gift by sharing Ms. Thorn’s incomparable one.

Pass The Plate Of "Happiness" Around: A Quick Review of "The Happiness Project"

2012-09-14T13:22:00.001-07:00

The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

What's not to like about an upbeat, well-written and thoughtful book about the esoteric and practical ways one can make themselves more happy in their everyday life? Not much is my answer. Gretchen Rubin proves to be a wonderful guide through her year-long search for ways to be happier, without uprooting her whole life for some magical, spiritual quest to some faraway land, as she is married with two young kids. "The Happiness Project" is chock-full of great tips, anecdotes, quotes, research and experiments gone right and wrong that ultimately lead to Rubin feeling and believing her life was improved by taking on the quotidian task of finding big and little ways to increase joy. I only take one star off because about half-way through the book, unfortunately, one of Rubin's happiness resolutions ("start a blog") results in her sharing pages upon pages of replies she got from followers of her blog. I hope Rubin sees it as a compliment that I wanted more of her words and less from her blog legion. Other than that bit of tiresomeness, I enjoyed this book thoroughly, found myself immediately applying some of the easier happiness tips to my life ("sing in the morning," "smile," "cut people slack") and felt better for it. A fast, accessible (and also exceedingly literate) read, and I do recommend it highly.

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Try A Little Tenderness: Why I Had To Listen To Otis Redding Right After Reading "Lady Chatterley's Lover"

2012-05-30T19:16:00.000-07:00

Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I'm kind of mixed up about what I want to say about this novel, which is a good thing. Of course it's best-known for being a scandalous, banned novel for its sex scenes, and I suppose for 1928, this was rather racy. I read the modern restored version and by today's standards, some scenes and language are graphic, but not pornographic or even titillating, just sensual, and respectfully so. (And even quaintly goofy - Lady Chatterley's private parts are oft described as her "mound of Venus.") Lawrence actually believes sex and sexual desire aren't purulent or shameful, but the highest expression of life and living. He also is decidedly disgusted by technology (in 1928, coal mines, deforestation, the Industrial Revolution and its ramifications were his chief complaints) and people who chase money, status, success and celebrity. In that way, the novel is both classic and contemporary. Though there are parts of the book that can be repetitive - not with the love plot, but with Lawrence expounding his philosophies via the characters' thoughts or his descriptions of his characters - his way with words and phrases make the journey through it all worth it. And once the love affair commences, it's all extremely engaging and absorbing, because you can't help but root for this impossible love affair to become possible - for real life to bloom and for the rest of the man-made madness and societal restrictions to fall away in the face of true tenderness between men and women (hence, the Otis Redding reference in the title). And it's romantic because it's not sentimental - this book is hard and the characters are very aware of the realities they face and the sacrifices they'll have to make to even start to make a go of it. The machine of civilization will go on but humanity will survive it if there is love. Even though there are some racist bits in there that do date it (I could put these down to the characters instead of the author but I'm sure that would be charity on my part) I highly recommend it - because they don't mar the core thoughts and ideas expressed here. All in all, good stuff.

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Lite Pop: Reviewing "Teen Classic" "Forever..."

2012-05-20T11:39:00.001-07:00

Forever by Judy Blume
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Even though I read and enjoyed many of Judy Blume's other books when I was a kid, I never read "Forever," so I thought I'd check it out and fill in that hole (no pun intended, but you see how I left it there anyway). I'm glad I didn't read it as a teenager because I'd hate to think that I would have been influenced by it. I'd always heard what a mature book it was and how it was all about a girl's first time and was so explicit. Okay, some of the sex descriptions are specific, but I wouldn't call them graphic or even titillating. The girl and boy in question are so gosh gee that there is a lack of realism permeating on every page that portends to have some. There is no plot to speak of, and all of the supporting characters are types - meant to have depth (the suicidal boy, the stroke victim grandpa, the know-it-all best friend, the gifted younger sister, etc.) - but don't. When the lead girl takes a self-motivated trip to Planned Parenthood, the author's PSA is glaring. I see on IMDB there was a TV movie made of it in 1978, and I suppose for that time, the subject matter itself was controversy enough to warrant adaptation. But it's not a timeless story, and even as a story of its time, it suffers from banality on most accounts. I suppose it deserves some snaps for even tackling the subject at a time when a lot of youth fiction, especially by popular authors didn't... thus two stars instead of one. Oh, and it was also upgraded by me for one memorable exchange between the main character Katherine and a random uncle at her high-school graduation that showed real depth and promise:

The uncle picked something out of his teeth, examined it, then flicked it off his finger. "So tell me," he said. "What do you want to do with your life?"
"Do?" I repeated.
"Yes... you've thought about it, haven't you?"
"Sure."
"So?"
"I want to be happy," I told him. "And make other people happy too."
"Very nice... but not enough."
"That's all I know right now." I turned and walked away from him.

If only the whole book had been as wry and observant as that! But alas, it wasn't. So I've got to find something better to hand my daughter when the time comes - I've just got to.

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The Revolution WAS Televised

2009-01-20T18:05:00.000-08:00

As much as I love the Gil Scott-Heron song "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," I'm glad to live in the era where he was proved wrong. At least I'm pretty sure he was, because I saw the Revolution this morning on my flat screen Sharp, along with hundreds of millions of other people who watched their TVs, their computers, their iPods and their cell phones, all across the globe.

(If you don't know the song you can get a taste of it on You Tube by clicking here: The Revolution Will Not Be Televised)

Ironically, the one way Scott-Heron got it right in the lyric -- "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised / The Revolution will be LIVE!" -- he could have never fully imagined in 1970. It was "live" all right -- live on every news channel and network, live on the internet via CNN.com among others, live on chat pages, blogs, cell phones, landlines, texts, e-mails and oh yeah, live in person. This was not just a political, cultural and historical revolution, it was a revolution in communication.

I myself watched it on TV as I posted status updates on Facebook, and that was a wondrous way to share, get instant feedback (from friends as close as down the street to as far away as Ireland), and read what was other people's minds as it was all going down. For instance, I learned exactly where to look for my friend Dena's brother Jay in the melee -- bass trombonist for the Air Force Band, front row, third from the left (saw a lot of big brass, but alas, never saw him). My sister Lesa called from her cell and we chatted as I got emotional -- she was on her way to pick up our mom Joyce to go to an Obama party. As it got to oath time, I ran downstairs, interrupted my son Xavier's therapy and turned on the TV so me, my husband Warren, Xavier and his vision therapist Sandy could all watch THE MOMENT. I teared up -- Sandy got chills -- Warren held Xavier and smiled at his two year-old. His smile seemed to say, no matter what the challenges, anything is possible. Xavier cooed and drooled.

Then we listened to THE ADDRESS -- I can't remember it well now, other than the impression it left. It was quietly celebratory, intelligent yet accessible, encompassing and pointed ("Time to make hard decisions / not to compromise ideals for safety / restore science to its proper place," etc.), patriotic but expansive. Then Warren, Xavier and I drove to Xavier's speech therapy. I texted in the waiting room with my friend Stacy and learned that Obama (like me) is a lefty. Just when I didn't think my pride in this man and his accomplishments couldn't soar any higher, it found a new level. Sorry, but I'm a sucker for a southpaw.

When we got home, two e-mails were waiting for me: one from my friend Susan Shaffer in New York who e-mailed from her iPhone; another from my friend Vanessa inviting me to an impromptu Obama party that I obviously missed. Back on Facebook, lots more updates -- on CNN and CNN.com, more footage, photos, updates. Even the reporters were in the crowd with Flip Videos, uploading "man on the street" bits to Twitter and Facebook, just like the man on the street was doing! The Revolution was most definitely televised -- because EVERYBODY had a way to televise it!

BUT, even more important than the technology and communication revolutions we took part in today, was the realization of the Revolution Martin Luther King, Jr. "dreamed" of forty-six years ago, a dream the majority of this nation helped turn into reality last November the old-fashioned way: by getting up, getting out and walking into voting booths all across the land.

Not only did a "black man" become President of the most powerful nation in the world today, a young man became President, a biracial man became President, a son of an immigrant became President, an intelligent man became President, an inclusive man became President, a humble man became President, and a loving husband and father became President. This list, I'm sure, could go on and on, as it should, because there should never be anything finite about Revolution. After all, it changes everything. Especially when it's televised.

LLH out.

Deep Pop. We love it.

Lite Pop: Squeeze That Lemon!

2008-11-01T17:53:00.000-07:00

I don't know about everybody else, but as much as I look

forward to Tina Fey's Sarah Palin impressions on SNL, what I've really been waiting for finally came Thursday night -- the third Season Premiere of "30 Rock." From episode one this show has been a tantalizing mix of character comedy, industry parody and social commentary and episode 37 is no exception.

http://www.nbc.com/30_Rock/video/episodes/?vid=800161

Tina Fey's intrepid alter ego Liz Lemon ranks in the top five, maybe even three female television characters of all time. Not only is she funny and smart and persevering even when mightily challenged by the powers-that-be (in the forms of Alec Baldwin as her corporate boss and Tracy Morgan as her unpredictable, uncontrollable star), she is also selfish, self-destructive, corruptible and mean-spirited. In other words, she's an actual human being. And her love interest isn't ever really in the form of a guy -- it's in the form of her job, her friendships and her lame attempts to overcome (sometimes) her baser nature.

No need for me to gush when you can check it out for yourself (if you are new to this show, treat yourself and watch all of the episodes on NBC.com), but how many shows have lines as loony as "She was wearing Dora the Explorer panties that were meant for an obese child" and as highbrow as "We're not the best people, but we're not the worst people. The worst people are graduate students" in the same episode? Par for the course on "30 Rock," as are sight gags, cutaways, wordplay, political jabs and celebrity jokes. It's a veritable comedy grab bag almost every episode and totally gets away with it.

Why? Because Tina Fey, her writers, actors and directors are, I think, out for more than ratings or Emmys or even a good belly laugh (even though they've consistently gotten two of the three). I think they are out to tell the truth of the people and the place they are presenting, no matter how wacky, ugly, venal or petty they get. As Liz Lemon says (after tons of shenanigans and half-truths) to the woman who is evaluating her to become an adoptive mother: "Yes, this place is not ideal but these weirdos are family to me and so if this job is a deal breaker, you tear up my application and I will start someplace else." Moments like these, and the undercutting ones that follow are why this show has heart as well as humor and why I think we all should squeeze that Lemon and keep her around for as many seasons as she'll give us.

LLH out.

Lite Pop. We Like It.

The First Black Anybody

2008-10-22T19:33:00.000-07:00

Everyone has "that one" in their life right now, right? That one friend or relative who sends you every article, video, blog or humor item that has anything to do with Obama, making your e-mail inbox swell from 10 to 100 messages on a near-daily basis? If you don't, you probably are "that one" and if you are, I salute your commitment to political spam... I mean, getting the word out. For me, "that one" is my Auntie Brenda, so whenever I see a have e-mail from blakin, I skip over it because I know it will be long and/or time-consuming. But I recently found a moment to hack through my blakin e-mails and read a piece by Frank Schaeffer of the Huffington Post entitled "Obama Will Be One of The Greatest (and Most Loved) American Presidents."

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/frank-schaeffer/obama-will-be-one-of-the_b_132843.html

I don't know why, but of all of the Obama fodder in my box, this one made me more than a little "Yes, We Can" -- it actually made me weepy, emotional and (dare I say?) hopeful. Not only because this self-described life-long Republican and Christian is so eloquent about the virtues of Obama, but because it's the first time the simplest argument to vote for Obama occurred to me. He will absolutely be the best president this generation has ever seen - -because he HAS TO BE.

The First Black Anybody, it hit me, is always superlative whenever he or she crosses lines that have not been crossed before. Not only are they preternaturally gifted in their field of choice (Jackie Robinson, Arthur Ashe, Ralph Bunche, W.E.B. DuBois, Leontyne Price, to name a few), they also possess the demeanor, will power and acumen to earn the respect even of those most resistant to their presence in a heretofore homogeneous field. The First Black Anybody knows everyone is watching him or her, some with fingers crossed, some with eyes askance, and if they "mess up," it becomes painfully unlikely that The Second Black Anybody will get their proverbial turn at bat.

Obama, put plainly, is a man without a net, so he must cross the high wire intact, or perish. Does old boy McCain have that kind of pressure on him? Um, not so much. Of course, The First Black Anybody theory isn't the only reason I'm voting for Obama, but I must say, I do love that he's the guy who's playing "all in" because he does not have the luxury of hedging his bets. And that's the guy who for damn sure knows how to play his cards. And since I have no other metaphors to mix, I will close by saying feel free to use this argument with any undecided friends of yours because even though there is a level of facetiousness and whimsy to it, it's really kinda true.

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Lite Pop: The (Old) Girl Can't Help It

2008-10-08T19:11:00.000-07:00

This will be brief, because it is filled with shame. The shame of guilty pleasure. But I can no longer contain it -- I must share it and let it fly free, because perhaps then I can let it go. I watch "Dancing With The Stars" and have since season two (believe it or not, we are not at the shame part yet). But never have I enjoyed a season or contestant more than right now. In case you don't know, Cloris Leachman (of "The Last Picture Show," "Mary Tyler Moore" and "Phyllis" fame) is one of the celebrity dancers this year, and at 82, the oldest to ever compete on the show.

I never thought anything would top the embarrassing-but-real anticipation of one-legged Heather Mills' prosthetic popping off in Season 5 (it never did, but she did keel over once) but oh my, how it has been topped. (Insert aforementioned shame here.) Cloris Leachman is completely insane and her dances are beyond Billy Ray Cyrus horrible but THEY ARE SO ENTERTAINING! With her archangel of a partner Corky Ballas, Cloris is SHAKING HER TA TAS:

WHO NEEDS AN AARP CARD WHEN YOU'VE GOT THESE?

STICKING HER LEG ON THE JUDGES' TABLE:

BRUNO THE JUDGE, NECROPHILIAC-IN-TRAINING

GETTING HER BOOTY SLAPPED:

SO WRONG, BUT SO WHAT?

and this week in the middle of her "jive" to "The Girl Can't Help It" she even GETS HER WIG YANKED OFF AFTER SMELLING CORKY'S FARTS. Oh yes, you read right. Farts. Proof that I am not kidding? Click below:

http://video.aol.com/video/get-wiggy-with-it-dancing-with-the-stars/2269230/?icid=VIDURVENT04

Fortunately, Cloris is in on the joke (my conscience won't let me think otherwise), so even when she rambles semi-coherently to the judges and the camera, you can tell she is just doing her best to entertain. And because of said entertainment value (low-brow and wacky as it may be) it's the first time I've ever considered picking up the phone to vote. Click below if you need another taste of the shame/hilarity (this is after her first dance):

http://video.search.yahoo.com/video/play?p=cloris+leachman+dancing+with+the+stars&ei=UTF-8&fr=yfp-t-501-s&fr2=tab-img&tnr=21&vid=000199692733

WIGGIN' OUT!

So, if you are looking for a jaw-dropping controlled car crash to watch next Monday, tune in to ABC at 8pm to check out the latest stylings of the incomparable Cloris. Phyllis Diller, gird your girdles -- there's a new octogenarian clown in town!

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A Sacred Institution Between Two Unwilling Teenagers

2008-10-06T22:09:00.000-07:00

Video Recaps | Full Episodes | Webisodes

Y'all know what I'm referring to, right? The third in the most-awesome series of SNL political spoofs ever? You know -- the Joe Biden/Sarah Palin debate parody from Saturday night. Tina Fey and gang were on fire and never did they shine more brightly than with the single line above. If you want to catch the full context, watch the video above. It will show you the whole segment but if you just want to hear the line (the whole sentence is actually "I believe marriage is meant to be a sacred institution between two unwilling teenagers") scroll about six minutes in.

The reason the above joke/sentiment made me laugh out loud and almost damn-near cheer my TV (it got the most live-audience applause, too) is because I can't stand that neither the republicans NOR DEMOCRATS will support gay marriage. I'm not so sure about Palin or McCain, but I know Obama and Biden know better -- two men so knowledgeable about history and civil rights have to know how unfair it is to deny ANY citizen ANY right. But they choose to pander because they feel they can't risk the political backlash in so close a race. Though I rarely start a sentence with the following because I feel it is reductive, I can't help it in this case. As a black person (that's the sentence starter right there), it is unconscionable to me to ever deny any law-abiding citizen the right to participate in any government-sanctioned activity. I think about voting rights, property rights, housing rights, hell, even marriage rights (first for blacks -- the broom jump developed because it wasn't legal for slaves to marry -- and interracial marriages were illegal until 1967) and in every case, the people who wanted them were denied such rights because the majority perceived them as "less than."

So they can say all they want about tolerance and "a civil union is just the same" -- but it's not. It is NOT the same. Does 1896's Plessy vs. Ferguson "separate but equal" ring a bell for anyone? Or that it had to be undone fifty-eight years later by Brown v. the Board of Ed? (I didn't even fact check the dates -- they have been seared in my brain since high school because they've always struck a deep chord with me.) Come on, people, let's spare ourselves the decades-long anguish over this and do the right thing now. Does it make any sense to you that two "oops, we got pregnant" teenagers who don't even want it can get all the rights and legal protections of marriage? That prisoners like Erik Menendez who murdered his parents can get married? But good, loving people like my friends Ray Lancon and Sara Washington (I've been feeling your recent pain over this one, girl) can't? If that's not calling somebody "less than," I don't know what is.

California Voters -- No on Prop. 8. Voting any other way says you are against liberty and justice for all. This is not my opinion, this is fact. And it is also a fact that those against gay marriage will be proven wrong and one day gay marriage will be as commonplace as seeing a woman vote (an abomination in 1919) or a black person in a public swimming pool (cause for a lynching before the 60s).

Okay, so... this is a screed as well as Deep Pop. But we still love it.

April 7, 2009 UPDATE: As everyone knows, Obama/Biden captured the White House on November 4, 2008, shattering a ceiling most felt would take several more generations to break through. But even with that huge leap forward, California took a huge step back by passing Proposition 8. The matter is still in the state Court of Appeals, and hopefully justice will prevail. In happier news, Vermont and Iowa approved gay marriage this week, bringing the total of states that sanction same-sex matrimony to four (the other two are Connecticut and Massachusetts). Four down, forty-six to go!

Lite Pop: Seat Jumpin' Classic #1

2008-10-04T17:53:00.000-07:00

*LITE POP ALERT* Although this website/blog is dedicated to exploring the deeper meaning in popular culture, sometimes you can love something just because, well, it makes your eyes pop. Or your ass move. So every once in a while, we are going to write shorter pieces about such. Hence, "Lite Pop." Here's a piece originally posted on Facebook:

I don't know if this will become a regular, but I threw a #1 on the title just in case. In my never-ending effort to get rid of all of the crap and clutter I've accumulated since high school (left L.A. with four boxes, came back from college with thirty four and they've been making babies ever since), I'm paring down my super-sizeable record/CD/tape collection. Still on the CDs... going through those early mix-CDs made with .WAV files (remember those behemoths?), trying to see what I can trash. I'm not as sentimental about the CD mixes -- the tapes though, those are going to hurt. Maybe because they took so much planning and effort and you had one take to get it right. So when they came out well, they were like gold. But the CDs? Eh, just reshuffle your playlist and burn again while you drink a latte -- no real time, hours-long commitment.

Perhaps as a result of the ease of CD-mixing, a lot of my CD mixes aren't that good. So on my way home from Whole Foods, I was confident I could trash the one I was listening to. I had all the cuts on iTunes and I could definitely get some better sequencing going than the hodgepodge of Ashanti's "Foolish" (so of its time, the song bores me now) to the Blow Monkeys' "Digging Your Scene" (still love that 80s underplayed classic) to Blu Cantrell's "Hit Em Up Style" that so didn't work. A few more late 90s/early 00's cuts played (Ja Rule, you are off the hip hop map for good reason) but then -- BAM! The horns and drums from Kool Moe Dee's "I Go To Work" kicked in and I was literally jumping in my seat. I know most people love Moe Dee's "Wild Wild West" or "How You Like Me Now" but "I Go To Work" has never failed to make me want to move my body. But now it makes my mind explode too because the lyrics and phrasing are so intricate, propulsive and creative. In my opinion, it's probably his best rap ever. It's great conceptually, rhythmically, musically -- it hits on all cylinders and is a true hip-hop classic -- it would definitely be on my top 10 all-time hip hop song list. Hell, that song is so good it not only makes me want to boogie or write my own rhyme -- it makes me want to exercise! Trust me, that's GOOD.

Kool-Ass Kool Moe Dee

I'm still gonna trash the mix CD, but it was such a nice surprise and reminder of how good songs can be that you haven't heard in a while and how revisiting the past can make you appreciate certain things you may have missed the first time around. So even though the clutter and the crap absolutely have to hit the bricks, sometimes there are benefits to sifting through slowly. Perhaps I have found my anti-clutter theme song? I'll put it on next time I'm trashing things, see if it helps and let you know.

LLH out.

Lite Pop. We Like It.

Pregnant With Juno Schadenfreude

2008-04-24T18:59:00.000-07:00

Has it happened to you? Has something or someone in popular culture driven you nuts? Not the garden variety “This song is horrible, when will they stop playing it?” nuts (R.I.P. “Macarena”!), but the anaphylactic shock “This person/thing is making me irrationally angry and sick and I want him/her/it to fail fail fail” nuts? Well, it’s happened to me, twice, each time with other female writers. Want to take one guess why? No, you're right, you don't have to, you already know why -- jealousy.

The first time it happened was in 2005 when “Grey’s Anatomy” debuted and became a monster hit for ABC. I knew immediately why I was peeved -- the creator of the show, Shonda Rhimes, was having the career I wished I had. Our paths first intersected in 1998 -- I was a Vice President of Production at Twentieth Century Fox and bought a movie pitch from her a shortly before I summoned up the guts to quit my suit gig and become what I beheld -- a writer. That particular project went nowhere, but soon thereafter, Rhimes wrote the lauded HBO movie “Introducing Dorothy Dandridge” (which won Halle Berry a Golden Globe), the Britney Spears debut (read: debacle) “Crossroads” (the DVD commentary by Shonda and director Tamra Davis, however, revealed the creative intentions behind it were as good as the acting was bad) and “Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement.” (Okay, at this point, you may be wondering, "What’s with the “Juno” poster? This is all about Lori hating on Shonda Rhimes." But truly, it’s not. I’ll get to the “Juno” of it all in a moment, promise.)

Shonda Rhimes, from the start, was an obvious talent -- her unproduced script, “When Willows Touch,” was her calling card to Hollywood and a lovely piece of writing -- so B.G. (Before “Grey’s”), her successes made me cheer her on from a distance because she deserved them. But as soon as she blew up in television -- the medium of writing where I had the most traction and she had no previous experience -- I found my eyes quickly transmuting from brown to green. Not only was she becoming the most successful black female show runner ever in terms of audience and ratings, she was doing it the way I wanted to -- without race pigeonholing her casting or her subject matter.

I was envious of her and angry with myself. I’d known Shonda all those years ago -- why hadn't I nurtured or protected that relationship? If I had, would I be riding the zeitgeist to writer heaven (awards, fat development deals, syndication), too? But these "If I'd only stayed in touch with her" moments were cracker barrel, too. I’m not a good networker, never have been and hindsight hasn’t changed that. I realized, in my saner moments, the negativity, self-directed or otherwise, was coming from my ego and had nothing personally to do with Shonda. Bottom line? I was coveting what Shonda had and, like a fiend, wanted it to be mine. I couldn’t even watch “Grey’s” the first season it aired, even though it was right up my TV alley -- soapy and sarcastic with super-verbal characters and underpinnings of good intention. Who willfully ignores such affinity for a self-created world of isolation and delusion? Say it with me, folks -- a fiend! A jealous fiend!

SHOULDA BEEN ME, NOT SHONDA!!

Fortunately Oprah helped me break through my cloud of envy -- she anointed Shonda and “Grey’s Anatomy” on an “Oprah” episode and who am I to dismiss the teachings of the great and powerful Oprah? So I started watching (and enjoying) “Grey’s Anatomy.” Good thing, too, because shortly thereafter, I saw Rhimes at a Writer’s Guild function for NAACP Image Award nominees (my husband Warren was a nominee for his work on “The Bernie Mac Show”). During a break, I approached Shonda, reintroduced myself and congratulated her on her career. Facing my demons like this not only did a world of good for my peace of mind, but as the words came from my mouth I realized they were, in fact, the truth. In my heart I wished Shonda well and knew her success was my success. Shonda thanked me and asked me what I was up to. I told her I was writing on a show called “All of Us.” She then told me to call her for lunch, implying she might be needing some writers soon.

I called her office that Monday -- our lunch became breakfast and then got rescheduled four times before her assistant called and said Shonda’s schedule was too hectic and he would call me back when time opened up. Translation? GRAB A MUFFIN AND SOME STARBUCKS BY YOURSELF, HONEY, BECAUSE IT AIN’T HAPPENING WITH SHONDA. Which, oddly, was fine by me. My conscience was clear -- I had done the right thing -- I had taken “right action,” put my ego in check and followed up on a friendly offer for a meal. That it didn’t happen was not on me and I could only wish Shonda well. (By the by, we are careening toward the “Juno” connection in the next two paragraphs -- for real this time.)

About a year after the unrequited lunch, I got a jubilant call from my agent saying the Shonda Rhimes camp wanted to meet with me. (My agent’s genuine disbelief at my ability to score such a meeting over so many other well-seasoned and better-credited writers made me chuckle -- I guess my unproduced screenplays, short-lived series and UPN/CW gigs make me a hard bag of goods to sell out there on the mean streets of Tinseltown.) She informed me Shonda was doing a spin-off of “Grey’s” called “Private Practice” and Marti Noxon (the marvelous writer/executive producer from “Buffy, The Vampire Slayer” who, coincidentally, was an old poker buddy) would be running it. The seeds of good karma were finally being sown -- Shonda hadn't forgotten me and was offering me something much better than a meal -- a chance at a career-changing job.

THE GOLDEN TICKET?

The meeting went well (at least I thought it did) with Shonda, Marti and executive producer Betsy Beers (a connection there too -- I was a writer’s assistant on “True Colors,” an early-90s Fox TV show on which her ex-hubby was a producer), but I didn’t get hired. I felt bad about it for a while but when I thought about why I was feeling bad, I realized it was my stupid ego again -- I felt bad because I thought I should feel bad, not because I really did feel bad. My life had changed so much by then -- I’d just given birth to a son who had several medical issues and the guilt of possibly leaving him for full-time work was already plaguing me. Also, my awareness about the fleeting nature of things like the popularity of television shows had expanded to the point where the part of me that was not my ego was beyond the rejection the moment my agent told me I didn’t get the job. When I looked at the situation for what it was, I saw I’d had the opportunity to spend half an hour with three seriously-talented, successful women, we weren't meant to work together at that time, and hey, guess what, there was no pen or paper shortage -- I could still write.

So after going through all of that, thinking I’d conquered jealousy and filled my professional heart with benevolent good will, imagine my shock when the same exact feelings -- more intense and more irrational this time -- surfaced around “Juno” and its writer, Diablo Cody. I didn’t even have a personal connection to this writer and I certainly (until “Juno”) didn’t want her career. I first came across the Diablo Cody phenomenon when I read an article in Entertainment Weekly about her rise from stripper to blogger to screenwriter with a super-hot project at Fox Searchlight (“Juno”), a TV project with Steven Spielberg (“The United States of Tara”) and a column in the very magazine I was reading (the only other guest writer EW employs is Steven King -- mighty high cotton for The Little Stripper That Could to shimmy in, one might -- and did -- think).

I was immediately disgusted with myself -- why was this happening again? What did Diablo ever do to me? Nothing -- except maybe get a movie project made at the company where I once had three. The script I had at Searchlight dearest to my heart, the character-based romantic comedy “The Facts About Kate,” had long been dead, but clearly my emotions around it weren’t. In development since 2000, “Kate” had gotten as close to becoming a movie as most movies that don’t become movies ever get: the awesomely awesome Forest Whitaker was attached to produce, stylish and soulful up-and-comer Kwyn Bader was hired to direct, Sanaa Lathan (of “Brown Sugar,” “Disappearing Acts,” and “Raisin In The Sun” fame) was offered the lead with start dates in mind, and Peter Rice, then President, now King of Searchlight, told me he was going to make the movie -- in front of a witness not directly under his employ, no less. But after several stops and starts “Kate” fell apart in 2004, and then the other “almost movie” I worked on for Searchlight, “Fast Girls,” was given the greenlight... twice... but went all red light in 2006. So in 2007, when I read the story of the ease of how “Juno” went from script to screen at Searchlight, what I felt went beyond jealousy, beyond envy. I wanted “Juno” to go down. I wanted Schadenfreude.

As the Rolling Stones famously put it however, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” Especially when a multi-billion dollar corporation is marketing the hell out of and the public is eating up what you want to sink down the drain and become as forgotten as the Sacagawea dollar. Instead, the joke was on me -- “Juno” exploded at the box office and went on to major critical acclaim, Golden Globe and Oscar nominations, and, curse of all curses! -- an Oscar nomination for Diablo Cody her own damn self. Was my spite going to make me boycott the Academy Awards, my own personal Super Bowl (I haven't missed them since fifth grade when Dustin Hoffman won for "Kramer vs. Kramer" and made the funny speech where he thanked his parents for getting busy), just so I wouldn't have to see "Juno" and Diablo strut off with the gold?

Right before the Oscars aired, I had a serendipitous lunch in old Hollywood with my old friend Teddy. We got to talking about movies (we’re both writers and that fall had received more free screeners from the studios than ever -- ironic since we were on strike at the time) and Teddy asked me if I’d seen “Juno” yet. I admitted the truth to him: I couldn’t bring myself to watch “Juno” because of my irrational feelings towards it and Diablo Cody. Teddy smiled knowingly, laughed to himself, then spiritedly said, “She’s your nemesis!” I balked, saying how could Diablo Cody be my nemesis, I don’t even know her! Teddy replied that it didn’t matter if I knew her because she was an archetype -- someone who symbolized all of the negativity, hatred, jealousy, pettiness, etc. that I had within me. This bit of unexpected wisdom floored me. I couldn’t see the complete truth of it in the moment, but what I glimpsed made me realize I needed to deal with the issue right away. Teddy then mentioned a song from the musical “Avenue Q” called “Schadenfreude” he thought I should check out. He said it talked about how wishing misfortune on others actually makes the world a better place. I told him I’d get to it, but first things first. I had to watch “Juno” that night. Because I couldn’t let myself be that crazy.

Well, it turns out I was okay with letting myself be that crazy because it took me a few more days to suck it up and watch “Juno.” I knew I would feel even worse if it was bad, because then, in my mind, my petty ill will would be justified. Thankfully, “Juno” turned out to be, in my opinion, a very good movie with excellent acting, directing and characterization. Yes, a lot of the dialogue was stylized, but as I intimated when talking about “Grey’s Anatomy,” I dig that. Yes, if the tone had been off a hair it would have been a disaster. But it wasn’t and the movie really, really worked for me and I got why it connected with so many people. It was fresh, quirky, uplifting and life-affirming. And that ending duet between Ellen Page and Michael Cera of that Moldy Peaches song just killed me. So when I watched Cody walk up to accept her Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay, I actually felt happy for her. She seemed genuinely pleased and humbled by the occasion and thanked her family in a way that was charming and heartfelt.

But even as I made my peace with "Juno" and Diablo, I felt uneasy. What Teddy said was still with me. Would my darker side always seek out an archetype through which to express itself? What new form of popular culture would emerge and unleash the beast within? And what if next time the material wasn’t of quality and my sense of “what’s good is good” wouldn’t allow me to quell the nastiness? Or maybe there was no way to quell it -- perhaps I should just take solace in the progress I’d made -- it took me much less time to kick my Cody jones than my Rhimes one.

And then it hit me -- perhaps this was yet another deep function of popular culture -- to reflect and reveal not only the best within us but also the worst. If we can face the weaknesses mirrored back to us via pop movies, television, music, artists, etc. instead of hide, resist or succumb to them, we can transform them into compassion and a higher consciousness -- the kind that can release us from the inherent folly of human nature. Simply put, acceptance of my untoward feelings would be the only way for them to dissipate. With this in mind, I recalled Teddy’s suggestion and downloaded “Schadenfreude” from “Avenue Q” on iTunes.

From first listen, "Schadenfreude" made me laugh out loud -- of course it was all about acceptance of our own nature, bad, good or otherwise. On its surface the song may seem overly clever and snide but really, it’s a celebration of the thoughts and feelings we all have and must acknowledge before we can overcome them. “Schadenfreude” as a piece of music also manages to be blissfully snappy, so as we listen and identify with it, we not only get to feel good about having bad feelings, we get to hum a few bars, too! Just like “Grey’s” and “Juno,” this song got me to take some looks within I might not have bothered to otherwise. It almost makes me look forward to my next bout of ego-driven lunacy, so it can dissolve from say, the size of an Oscar to say, the size of a Sacagawea dollar. Which I would then forget about altogether because who ever thinks of a Sacagawea dollar? In fact, hmmm... Tina Fey... how YOU doin'? I've already got child care lined up so I can check for you in "Baby Mama," Homeslice. Like seriously, Meredith...

Deep Pop. We love it.

The New World Oprah

2008-03-05T15:54:00.000-08:00

In all fairness, I have to begin by saying I love Oprah. I drink the "O"-flavored Kool Aid regularly and I love the taste. So what you are about to read is admittedly biased because I believe what Oprah has been doing, particularly in the past five years with her show, her media empire and her life, is nothing short of awesome. And I don't mean that in a "Whoa, dude, check out Oprah, she's awesome!" kind of way, but literally -- for me, Oprah inspires awe. From launching a magazine devoted to helping people "live their best lives," to an XM satellite radio network with the same conceit, to building an Academy to educate young women in South Africa, to her new television network, to launching the ABC reality show "The Big Give" where people win by giving to others -- one would think that Oprah has done it all. Well, it turns out Oprah is just getting started.

Oprah's latest, and perhaps greatest awe-inspiring feat happened just a few nights ago when she hosted a live, ninety-minute, free, worldwide webcast discussing Eckhart Tolle's latest book (and Oprah's current book club selection) "A New Earth: Awakening To Your Life's Purpose." I picked the book up as soon as she announced the ten-week class (a pop culture happening, in my opinion, not to be missed), and "good student" I believe myself to be, went online and I reserved my "seat" in class, downloaded my Chapter One Workbook (Professor Oprah does not play -- she gives us homework!) and began to read the book, even though all I knew about it was that Oprah said it wasn't a typical pick for her.

The title of the book intrigued me (who doesn't want to awaken to their life's purpose, or at least check to see if they've got it right?), but it didn't give me a clear understanding of its contents. I thought the book would be akin to a Dr. Phil-ish experience -- it would annoy me then help me see what's dysfunctional in my life so in the future I could make better choices. But from the first page, when Tolle writes about the first flowers on the planet and how they had no purpose other than to be messengers from the spiritual realm, I realized "A New Earth" was going to offer so much more than a bald Texan in a bad suit. Oprah had picked a "deep" book, a "new age" book, a (dare I say it?) "spiritual" book.

As I read on, the book immediately moved me. It was reminding me of everything I have been learning over the past few years through personal experience or through Taoism, the spiritual path I am currently exploring. The coolest ideas to me in "A New Earth" were these: 1)the idea of God/the universe/ consciousness as an absolute truth with the different paths towards it being secondary (Jewish, Christian, Buddhist, etc.) and 2)the identification of the individual ego and the collective ego as the culprits behind dysfunction, destruction and madness. The first idea is pretty clear but the second is a bit esoteric, which is why it takes Tolle some 300 pages to explain it.

The bottom line, as I understand it, is that when we make our thoughts our identity and value things and ideas over our inner god/spirit, we get out of whack in our personal and collective lives. Tolle gives examples of this by citing, on the personal level, anger, anxiety, depression, guilt and the like. On the collective level, wars, murders, genocides -- all justified by the "you're wrong and I'm right" mentality needed by the ego to survive. I'm sorry if this is even more confusing -- I only mention it to give a glimpse into what the book talks about and why it was such a daring choice for Oprah to put out there to her legion.

So anyway, Monday night, I'm all ready with my Chapter 1 workbook, my pen (plus several extras) and I log in, "take my seat" early (still in "good student" mode) and watch celebrity testimonials, Oprah clips, and promos from sponsors Chevy and Post-It. Class begins with a big close-up on Oprah. She looks tired, but excited. Sitting across from her on the ethereal, white-and beige colored set is author Eckhart Tolle.

As Oprah keeps talking my mother Joyce (who I turned on to the book) arrives when I imagine all the cool kids do, a few minutes after the "bell" rings. She sits and watches with me. The first question Oprah is asked via interactive computer phone system Skype (another sponsor) is from a woman who wants to know how to reconcile Tolle's ideas (which draw from Buddhism, Hinduism and Taoism as well as the Bible) with her Catholic faith and wants to know how Oprah reconciles them with her faith. Oprah, not realizing the question was going to be directed to her, admits to thinking she'd be able to take a rest, but quickly snaps to attention and answers.

On her daily show, Oprah has spoken about being raised in the church, but always seemed to steer clear of definitively labeling herself as a practicing Christian. Well, that day has passed because not only did Oprah identify herself as Christian, she also proclaimed to a world-wide audience that she does not believe "Jesus Christ came here to start Christianity." Wow!! Officially, this class was now dynamite. And not in the J.J. Evans "Dy-no-mite!" way, but the "this is explosive, blowing up the box" way. Oprah officially transcended from well-meaning talk show host to ersatz webevangelist.

Taken out of context, I can see people having a field day with Oprah's Jesus statement and her later statement that "God can't be contained in a church." But what she was saying (in context) was that Christ's purpose on earth was to show people "Christ consciousness" -- how to be awake and present in the world and how to tap into the Christ within. She also mentioned a few books ("The Seeker's Guide" by Elizabeth Lesser and "Discover The Power Within You" by Eric Butterworth) that helped her reconcile her Baptist teachings ("Old Spirituality") with non-church based teachings ("New Spirituality") like Tolle's.

Coincidentally it was around this time, as Oprah got a call from a Baptist in Germany, that my feed started stuttering and stammering as if it were 1969 and Oprah was broadcasting from the moon. When I clicked on the "if you have problems with this webcast" link, the whole thing crashed. I re-entered the class several times over the next forty minutes, but only got glitchy images, then two-second sound bites that were impossible to follow. Eventually the web geeks managing the site apologized on the main page for the technical difficulties and encouraged people to come back tomorrow (Tuesday) to watch the video on Oprah.com or download it through iTunes. I did the latter and just finished watching it in its entirety before I started this blog.

Other highlights from the class were Oprah saying everyone blames the media and movies for negativity but she thinks they are a cultural reflection of where we are as human beings. She then said look at the movies nominated for Oscars this year -- that tells you where we are. I don't think Oprah was trying to rag on the filmmakers but in a way she seemed to agree that movies do play into the collective psyche and ego. She then turned to Tolle and prompted him to quote from his book where he says humans are the only species who watch violence for entertainment. Will these comments make it harder for Oprah to host her Oscar party next year? Prevent certain studios from having their stars appear on her show? Answer: OPRAH DOESN'T CARE.

Oprah also had one of her signature "A-ha" moments as she reveled in the coolness of the technology that was allowing her to host the event. She said she realized the acceleration of technology could accelerate the destruction of mankind if we don't "wake up" to our consciousness. Tolle confirmed this and quoted from his book about the destruction in the 20th century and all that can be accomplished in the 21st if the collective ego continues to go unchecked. Did Oprah alienate her technology sponsors with this commentary? Answer: OPRAH DOESN'T CARE. Oprah ended the class on a note of enthusiasm, clapping her hands together gleefully with anticipation for next week's class which will focus primarily on the ego.

So, in sum, what is so "deep" and "pop" about all of that? Well, it's pop because Oprah's anointment of this book shot it to the top of every bookseller's list and it has now shipped 3.5 million copies. It's also an interactive, worldwide event (free live or for download!) that I suspect will only grow in audience over the next nine weeks. It's "deep" (besides the "deepness" of the subject matter) because Oprah has, with this bold act, made the intention behind her popularity clear: she is using it to awaken people to their consciousness (i.e. "the God within") and thus has positioned herself as our nation's (and planet's?) newest (and perhaps most powerful) spiritual leader. No wonder Oprah doesn't want to be the President -- to paraphrase Prince, she'd rather be the Pope! Not in the ring-and-mitre sense, but in the sense that she wants to lead the masses from all corners of Earth to God.

Oprah no longer cares if she alienates her audience, religious leaders or her sponsors -- not because she is too rich to care (even though she is) but because she is on a mission, and over the web on Monday, that was obvious. Oprah, ever inclusive, made a point of saying she does not believe Christianity is the only way to God, but that there are several paths to God with six billion people on Earth. She also affirmed you don't have to give up your current belief system to achieve the kind of spirituality she's touting, and that Tolle isn't trying to be your next guru. Oprah shot Tolle a quick look when she said this, then moments later asked him point blank if he wanted to be a guru. He said no and sort of laughed. Perhaps because he knew he was in the presence of our latest one? Stay tuned... I know I will.

Deep Pop. We love it.

"Cruisin'" For A Bruisin': In Defense of Tom Cruise

2008-02-06T20:50:00.000-08:00

I was on the phone with my friend PJ a few weeks ago and the topic of Tom Cruise and his recent YouTube Scientology video came up. I'd heard about it of course (who hadn't?), but wasn't interested enough to check it out until PJ went on and on about how "over-the-top crazy" Tom was in it. Having seen the famous "Jumping-On-Oprah's-Couch" incident as it aired in 2005 and its numerous spoofs on television and the internet, I figured maybe it was time for me to check out the latest pop-culture brouhaha inspired by the formerly untouchable Cruise. I decided to look it up while on the phone so PJ and I could have a proper conversation about it. (By the way, I find cable modem/DSL/video streaming to be particularly satisfying internet advances -- you can instantly have a conversation with someone about something they insist is fascinating and not go "I didn't see it. Can you get me the tape?" By the time you get the tape, watch it and bring up the topic again, everyone has moved on. In a weird way, fast connections and video capability allow us to have more complete discussions, even though conventional wisdom says people are more disconnected because of the internet. But that's another topic. Right now, I'll stick to Tommy Boy.)

As I watched Cruise talk to an unseen interviewer about what Scientology meant to him, P.J. supplied unsolicited commentary. "Do you see his eyes, Lori? Looking all glazed and freaky?" Personally I'd choose the adjectives "intense" and "focused" but potato/potahto... who was I to disagree? I still had eight minutes of video to watch and the "glazed freaky" could be lurking just around the corner. So I watched... and watched... and only saw more intensity and focus -- two qualities often present in Cruise's better acting performances. About seven minutes into the video I said to my friend, "I don't know, PJ. If he replaced 'Scientologist' with 'Born-Again Christian' I don't think there'd be much difference. Except someone would nominate him for President." PJ conceded this point but continued to insist that Cruise was "out of his friggin' mind" and the scarier part of the video (which was forcibly removed from the internet) where he gets a medal in front of a big image of L. Ron Hubbard and salutes undoubtedly made him look like a lunatic. Since I couldn't see this part of the video, the conversation shifted into a brief discussion of Scientology, of which I know close to nothing about, moved on to lighter topics (travel, makeovers), then PJ and I said our good-byes.

Off and on during the following weeks, I thought about Tom Cruise and how the pendulum of general opinion on him had in two-and-a-half years swung from super-likeable, talented megastar to complete-and-total nutbag -- and stayed there. Then today when I walked into Barnes & Noble to buy the latest Oprah's Book Club Selection "A New Earth: Awakening To Your Life's Purpose" by Eckhart Tolle so I could prepare for Oprah's "live class" (a pop culture moment I do not want to miss), the first thing I saw was an unavoidable display of Andrew Morton's unauthorized biography of Tom Cruise. Where was Oprah's book in relation to this? Crammed behind the discount DVDs, off to the side of the register. Clearly, the "Tom-Cruise-Is-Fucking-Insane" crowd is more valued than the "I-Want-Oprah-To-Help-Me-Live-My-Best-Life" crowd, at least at this particular store. On the ride home, I thought about Cruise some more. Really, what had he done other than overzealously proclaim his love for his now-wife Katie Holmes on TV (most of us are lucky to have our similar moments preserved only in the minds of a select few, not the whole world) and profess his devotion to his chosen religion?

I'm sure the fact that Scientology is a "new religion" (founded in 1952) with what people believe to be cultish tendencies plays a factor in the anti-Cruise shift, but religious intolerance ultimately does not keep Americans from enjoying their favorite entertainers (think the Osmonds, Richard Gere, every Jew who ever was and still is successful, including glass-eye-having, Swedish-model-dating-very-short-black-man Sammy Davis, Jr.). Besides, Cruise has made no secret of his religion for well over a decade, so why would it cause a backlash now? The more I thought about it, the more I realized the deeper reason for the switch from TomKat to TomHate is because before the couch jumping and the Brooke Shields attacking and the L. Ron Hubbard saluting, for a vast number of people, Tom Cruise represented the quintessential American man.

Cruise, particularly in his movies, was so every guy (who can forget him in "Risky Business" lip-synching and sliding around in his underwear as we all do?), so patriotic and heroic (in "Top Gun" or "A Few Good Men" or even "Born On The Fourth Of July") or so selfish-but-ultimately redeemable ("Rain Man," "The Color of Money," "Jerry Maguire"), that every guy wanted to be him and every woman wanted to be with him. He was a successful, handsome, wealthy and charming self-made individual. But then he threw that image into turmoil on "Oprah," then into an incinerator when he argued to Matt Lauer on "Today" that psychiatry was essentially quackery and taking medication for mental health issues was unnecessary. Cruise is far from the only person who believes psychiatrists/psychologists/therapists are con artists (the term "headshrinker" didn't invent itself and certainly wasn't invented by Cruise) or that his or her religion can save people in distress, but the fact that in the process he slagged Brooke Shields, an American sweetheart, well, that was akin to having the captain of the football team chop up the head cheerleader and fertilize the end zone with her.

Even though Cruise later apologized to Shields and mended that fence well enough for her and her husband to attend his wedding to Holmes, as far as America was concerned, it was too late. Tom Cruise had already become "The Other" -- someone who is not "us," not of the majority, no longer a reflection of the collective American self-image. Fear and hatred of The Other is rampant in our culture -- there are examples of it everywhere, from the politics that led us to the current war in Iraq, to every racist or sexist joke you've ever heard, to classic Disney movies. (Think about what's going on in "Snow White" for a moment -- everything is cool when the Queen looks into the mirror and sees herself as the fairest. But as soon as that image isn't reflected back to her, she goes insane and wants the heart of The Other cut out and brought to her in a box. Yikes, right? But it's this pathological desire to stamp out The Other that terrifies and fascinates equally because we all have it within us. In fact, everything truly memorable in "Snow White" is motivated by the twisted actions of The Queen. Watch it again and you'll see -- the dwarves, the prince, even Snow herself -- they don't hold a candle to Queeniepoo.)

Even though it's typical for The Other to have different skin, a different religion, a different nationality or a different sexual orientation, in Snow White and Cruise's cases they are reviled all the more because they appear to be just like "us" but they are not "us" (although they are because really, when you go even deeper with it, there is no "Other." But to remain in existence, our egos take our worries and insecurities and fears and make our psyches give credence to the idea of The Other.)

So instead of forgiving Tom Cruise for having the human moments we all have (misguided, strident, glazed, freaky, real -- whatever you want to call them) we say, "How can the guy we nailed Russian MIGS with, agented football stars with, solved impossible missions with, shook cocktails and shot pool with -- a guy we thought we knew -- how can he be a guy we no longer know? And if we don't know him, how can we know ourselves?" And when we turn the mirror on ourselves like this, we react like The Queen in "Snow White" -- we try to cut Tom's heart out.

As an alternative to heart-cutting, we might want to take a longer look in that mirror -- past our anger and our hatred and ask ourselves why we are reacting that way. Cruise, like everyone else, carries the best and worst within him. Instead of reviling and ridiculing him, consider defending him, even if just as an exercise. I have and I have found that at the end of the day, I just want to give Tom Cruise a break. Not because I love his work (and I do) and not because I'm trying to "be cool" (and I do try) and not because I agree with him on basically anything, but because simply, if it were me, I would want the same break. There's a major opportunity for preciousness right here -- I could quote "Do unto others..." and wrap this all up very piously and quippily -- but that's not my bag, at least not today. Because even with all of this said about Cruise, I still think Mel Gibson is the biggest sack of the nuttiest nuts ever to come from the planet Nut. (Perhaps because of his intolerant, sexist remarks and his consistent perpetuation of the idea of The Other?) Something else to think about...

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Do You Sudoku?

2008-01-28T22:32:00.000-08:00

When I asked my husband Warren what he wanted for Christmas last December, I expected his typical sweet-but-infuriating answer: "I want you, baby." We fall into our routine -- Me: "You already have me." He: "Then I have what I want." Then I say be serious and he says he is serious and we go around like a co-dependent Abbott and Costello until I give up and secretly swear to get him underwear. This time, however, Warren had a different answer: "I want brain games." "Brain games?" I ask. "Yeah. Something to keep me sharp." Okay. He wants to keep his edge -- that I can respect. So I go in search of brain games and come home with crosswords, books actually entitled "Brain Games," and, you guessed it, Sudoku. I never thought much of Sudoku -- I sized it up as just another craze that would go the way of "Where's Waldo?" or "The Magic Eye." I tried it once or twice in my LA Times, but could never get into it. It reminded me of those irritating, little plastic number puzzles that were (and still are) popular party favors for kids, but even more annoying because Sudoku numbers don't slide around or make cool clicking noises. But when I read the forward of the handy-dandy purse-sized "White Belt Sudoku" book, I realized I never understood the rules of Sudoku. So, after years of ignoring this pop culture phenomenon and knowing my mommy brain could also use some "sharpening," I, too, sudoku'd.

For those who don't know (all three of you), the object of sudoku is to fill in every row, column and 3x3 box with each of the numbers 1-9 exactly once. I knew about the rows and columns, but the box info was new to me and obviously crucial. So I tried a puzzle armed with proper instructions and it was like a shot of adrenaline to my brain -- I instantly loved Sudoku. This shouldn't have surprised me as it did -- I've always been a puzzle person. Give me a pencil and some good light and I'll cross words and connect the dots with the best of them. But no puzzle had captivated me so immediately and completely as Sudoku and I started to wonder why.

I went through all of the obvious reasons -- it's simple, it's quick, everyone likes the feeling of building towards something and getting something right. As Will Shortz, current king of the New York Times Crossword Puzzle (r.i.p. Eugene T. Maleska!), says in his introduction to "The Joy of Sudoku":

"Sudoku... can be easy, moderate, or hard... And the amount of time needed to solve one -- generally between 10 and 30 minutes, for most people for most puzzles -- is about perfect in order to feed a daily addiction. If sudoku took less time, it wouldn't pose enough challenge, and if it took more, you might lose interest... Like crosswords, sudoku puzzles have blank squares that are inviting to fill in. It's said nature abhors a vacuum. We as human beings seem to have a natural compulsion to fill up empty spaces... Sudoku also provides an appealing rhythm of solving. Generally, the first few numbers are easy to enter. Then... you may get stymied and maybe a bit frustrated. Once you make the critical breakthrough (or breakthroughs), though, the final numbers can come quickly, giving you a rush and a heady sense of achievement -- often tempting you to start another sudoku immediately. Hence the addictiveness of sudoku, which is the "crack cocaine" of puzzles."

So was that the answer? Was Sudoku merely puzzle crack and I its latest strawberry? Yes, I was addicted and yes, I always want to solve another one right away, but I still sensed there was something deeper going on with Sudoku and its massive, worldwide and lasting appeal.

As I thought further, I realized there was something inherently democratic about sudoku -- most everyone at every age can count from 1-9 and it takes little to no money to get into sudoku -- there are plenty of free puzzles online and in newspapers. But there is still more to it than ease and price, more to it than simplicity and the quick high of achievement -- Sudoku manages to challenge those who attempt it to bring out the best within themselves.

How, you may ask, does a grid half-filled with numbers manage to guide us to a nearly (or sometimes complete) transcendent experience? Well, think of the skills involved in solving Sudoku -- first and foremost, you need patience and perseverance. Once you get the initial rush of numbers pencilled in, as Shortz points out, there is a moment where it seems the puzzle is impossible to solve. You search and search and search for another number but you can't seem to come up with anything. You are as lost as Newt Gingrich at a Wu Tang concert.

It is when you are lost like this in your Sudoku that you must rely on logic. Every number has its own place in Sudoku and even when you feel like taking a stab and guessing, logically you know the best strategy is to employ discipline and find the only number that can fit in a certain place. Too often in our every day lives we abandon logic for ease or comfort or short cuts (think of how we act in traffic -- honking and lane-switching does not get us to our destination any faster though it gives us the illusion it does). Sudoku does not allow you to ditch logic without consequences -- like having to start the puzzle all over again when you get a double number because on the whole, short cuts don't work in Sudoku. Which leads us to discipline. Sometimes when you can find no possible next move, you have to suck it up and scan every row and every column and every box counting from 1 to 9 until you find the number to build on.

This process, while challenging, is also calming, even meditative. I Sudoku before I go to bed because unlike a book, magazine or crossword, Sudoku allows my mind to clear itself of everything but Sudoku. Sudoku requires a kind of concentration that words do not command. You can't rely on your memory the way you do with words because the variables are digits and they have no meaning except an unexpectedly pure one -- they are the tools in service of your brain's (or dare I say mind's?) ability to think in, around and outside the box. No puns, tricks or double entendres to sort out -- just numbers and the holes to fill with them. And, although it seems contradictory to everything I just said, Sudoku also relies on intuition. I can't tell you how many times I look at the same line of numbers again and again and again and then all of a sudden I see something. What makes the difference? Once you start to get into the rhythm of a sudoku puzzle, into the heart and soul of it, the logic, patience, discipline and meditation all converge and damn if the puzzle doesn't start to reveal itself to you. Under normal circumstances, I think this is where I would lose most people. But fortunately since most people do Sudoku, you know what I'm talking about! (You know you do!)

Sudoku, lastly, is a cyclical puzzle. Even though it appears to be a linear game of method and elimination, the mental process of solving it is similar to the one we have when we approach anything new in life. You first think, this is exciting, I can do this, it's a piece of red velvet cake. Then you hit a wall, you think this is impossible, I want to give up, why did I start this in the first place. Then, because of your perseverance, discipline and intuition, you find a way to power through and then you think, wow, I got through it. And that's how we learn and how we grow.

Kind of a lot for a little puzzle, huh? Well, don't take my word for it -- test it out. You can start with the puzzle above. It may not seem like it, but Sudoku is more than just a "brain game" -- it's a life game. On a subconscious level, we want to reaffirm our life process in everything we encounter, even in the seemingly little nothing puzzles we do to pass the time at the dentist's office. This, I think, is what Sudoku has captured. And every time we do one of these puzzles we are saying, "We can be patient. We can persevere. We can problem solve. We can use logic and intuition. We can learn and we can grow." Why? Because we can Sudoku!

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"If You're A Bird, I'm A Bird": Why We Love Romantic Movies

2008-01-27T17:30:00.000-08:00

FROM 4/14/2006: Did anyone see "The Notebook" when it came out in 2004? You know, the romance movie based on the Nicholas Sparks novel of the same title? Well, I didn't, and a cursory look at the box office receipts tells me at $81 million domestic, I might be alone. Its apparent success, coupled with its fundamental romantic core, destined this movie to have a never-ending cable shelf life akin to that of a Twinkie in a bomb shelter. No matter when you turn on your TV, somewhere, on some channel, you're likely to find "The Notebook" or one of its romantic brethren serving up a comforting and familiar (if sometimes stale) taste.

This is how "The Notebook" and I crossed paths, during a 4am channel surf brought on by a wakening wave of nausea from my nascent pregnancy (six weeks in, it's rock and roll.) My husband Warren was back to sleep quickly -- I was wide awake, hoping to find something on TV that I'd seen before, something I had a shorthand with, something pop and easy that would lull me back to a happy, nausea-free slumber. But instead, I found "The Notebook," not quite at its beginning but close enough for what I assumed was a standard romantic movie. It was the BOY MEETS GIRL scene. I made a mental note of it and kept flipping channels. Nothing but bad police dramas, action movies, and lite cable porn which made me wonder for a second if there was an expectant father out there looking to be lulled, too. (The cable universe, I noted, was much better prepared for such an occasion. James Brown knew what he was talking with "It's A Man's Man's Man's World.") So, true to gender stereotyping, I passed up "Busty Cops 2" and flipped back to "The Notebook."

What plays before me is pleasant enough. Rachel McAdams -- the young actress who I like from "Mean Girls" -- does well as the female lead. She is convincing as a 1940s rich, Southern girl. Ryan Gosling, on the other hand, I only know form his annoying performance in "Remember The Titans," so I wondered how far I'd get with this romance since one half of said romantic couple wasn't appealing to me. But as Gosling's character grew on McAdams' character, so did Gosling grow on me. The clincher came about halfway through the BOY MEETS GIRL dance -- Gosling and McAdams are out on a lake and McAdams looks at the birds and starts talking about how she feels like a bird and wants Gosling to be one, too. He then turns to her and wins over her, me and every other living soul watching in a late-night nausea-induced stupor when he says... "If you're a bird, I'm a bird." Now, nakedly put out of context, I realize that line can sound nausea-inducing on its own. But the intention behind it in the movie -- the intention to love wholly and completely in a transformative manner -- well, this is what makes it one of the many amazing and surprisingly deep moments "The Notebook" has to offer.

The movie then gets even better -- it turns out that all of this young folks "first blush of love" stuff is being told in flashback. In the present, James Garner is reading to Gena Rowlands from the titular "Notebook" as they spend the day in an old folks' home. It takes a millisecond of thought to realize they are the aged version of the young couple -- this isn't a spoiler, it really is that obvious -- even though the movie is cloying about it for some time. Which, somehow, is liberating to me. I already know the young'uns end up "happily ever after" -- what I don't know is why we are spending time with them as old folks if that's truly the case. I reason that obviously there is going to be something new told about their love story in the present but I didn't know "what" or "how" and this ultimately hooks me deeply into "The Notebook."

By the end of the movie, the "why" had tears falling from my face. I was trying to be quiet for Warren, but I failed, caught up in an uncontrollable volley of sniff and sob. Warren groggily asked if everything was okay. I choked out a quick, "Yes. The. Movie." He went back to sleep as I muzzled up and thought about the final moments of "The Notebook" where Rowlands and Garner completely earned the right to call themselves the World's Best "Romeo and Juliet": Geriatric Division.

Though the ending is admittedly another recycling of Shakespeare (and who knows where old Willy boy got it from) it was the IDEA behind the old lovers that moved me -- the same IDEA behind the young lovers -- WE LIVE FOR LOVE. We only feel complete with true love and at our cores, we strive to have our duality become unity and romance is the vehicle of that driving force. The Gosling/Garner character has dedicated his life to love and because of that he and McAdams/Rowlands are able to connect against all odds, financial, familial, medical or otherwise. This IDEA was so well captured by this movie it's no wonder it connected to so many people. And it's no wonder why I blubbered.

A few days later in an unrelated conversation with Warren (about the deterioration of his first marriage of all things), I asked him if he thought things were good between us. He replied, "Yes, very good, though I was worried the other night." I asked which night and he said when he saw me crying so hard over "The Notebook," he wondered if I was crying over some long lost love and felt like I'd made a mistake in my life. This made me laugh -- why couldn't I just be crying that hard over the movie? Especially considering the extra shot of hormonal imbalance involved? He admitted his paranoia, which is why he didn't bring it up in the moment.

I asked him if he'd ever seen "The Notebook" and he said he'd seen bits here and there on cable (further proof of my "Twinkie" theory). He saw many of the same surface things I saw in the movie -- romantic cliches (rich girl/poor boy; missed communications, etc.) and obvious plotting -- but to him they were just that. To me those were things "done right" and executed with the intention of awakening the romantic nature within the viewer and connecting us to love's transformative power. I argue to Warren that this is the very function of romance in movies (and in life) -- it's supposed to move and overwhelm us, to bring us to tears and cause us to go beyond ourselves to express a "larger than life" type of love. Warren agreed the parts with the old couple impressed him, especially when Rowlands had an attack of dementia that made her forget Garner after he spent the whole movie laboring to bring her back to him. Even still, Warren found the last moments of the movie, where Garner and Rowlands die holding hands as birds soar over the lake, sappy and overdone.

Me? I found those same moments to be deeply moving and significant. Not because I fantasize about having such a romance myself (maybe this was Warren's worry -- that I might be angling for a murder-suicide pact as a 50th anniversary gift) but because I loved the idea behind it. Now I wish I'd remembered to remind Warren during this talk of another moment that happened during that 4-6am night/morning/"Notebook" viewing. After I'd calmed myself and dried my tears, I woke Warren up once more to kiss him and say I love you. He mumbled, "I love you, too, baby" and kissed me back. The we finally fell asleep holding hands as the birds outside our window began chirping in a new day.

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3:10 To Yuma - A Potboiler With Purpose

2008-01-27T14:55:00.000-08:00

So it's Saturday night -- "date night" for me and my husband Warren. But because we have a 13-month old son, "dating"means scrounging up whatever time we have after The King has deigned to sleep. King Xavier reigned until 10:30pm, getting us off to a very late start on our date night (anyone with a kid knows that 10:30 is no longer the start but the end of an evening. Lame, yes, but it's all there in the parenting contract -- read the fine print). We were supposed to watch "Juno" but I was so tired I secretly wanted to watch a movie I had little interest in so I could fall asleep and not care, but also get the credit for selfless compromise. So if I throw "27 Dresses" into the mix next week, what can he say other than "pass the popcorn"? (Knowing Warren though, he can say a lot -- I'm still reeling from his "Sweet Home, Alabama" commentary from six years ago -- a movie I dragged him to early in our courtship. As a professional comedian though, his screeds are FUNNY. And deserved.) Anyway, I assumed because "3:10 To Yuma" is a remake of an old potboiler western it would be easy to zone out on -- as they were moving cattle or whatever, I'd be counting sheep. Little did I know how engrossing the movie would be on a pop level (tense action, slick violence, cool bad guy lines like "even bad men love their mamas") as well as a deeper level (good v. evil, heroism, devotion to family, camaraderie, transcendence).

To be truthful, when we finished watching my first and only thought was "cool movie." But, seeing as how I was on a "date," I decided to have the post-movie "So what did you think?" conversation. I thought it would go, Me: "I liked it." Him: "Yeah, me, too. Good acting. Cool setpieces." Me: "Yeah. Love you, good night." Instead, my husband took a beat, reflected, and as he began to speak the deeper levels of the movie were revealed to me. Warren surmised that Ben Wade (Russell Crowe's charismatic bad guy) started off the movie believing he was "rotten as hell" and willing to kill anyone in his way including members of his own gang, but his ultimate respect for his captor Dan Evans (brilliantly played by Christian Bale with a desperate, feral morality) caused him to recognize the potential goodness in himself, so much so that he metaphorically murders his bad side and honors Dan by getting on the 3:10 to Yuma (a train to prison) instead of taking the easy road of escape. The ending also implies that Wade will be a free man again, but will he be a free man who forms a new blood-thirsty, soulless gang, or will he be a man who becomes a loving father and husband like Dan? I think he'll lean towards the latter because the Ben Wade who gets on the train is at least willing to take the implied journey to rehabilitation and redemption. Or will it be a stop gap and lead him to a life like Clint Eastwood's William Muny in "Unforgiven"?

(If you haven't seen "Unforgiven" or it's been a while, I recommend checking it out -- it's a fantastic thematic companion piece to "3:10 to Yuma.") Either way, the concept that being true to your heart (as Dan was) can influence even the coldest of killers (Ben) to search for his own elevates the movie for all viewers, even those (like myself) who were not initially looking beyond its slickly satisfying pop surface.

Warren then broke down the subtext of the father-son relationship between Ben Wade and his right-hand henchman Charlie Prince, who is effectively played by Ben Foster as a 19th-Century Terminator (Robert Patrick's T-1000, please, not Schwarzenegger) and juxtaposed it to the overt, pop father-son relationship between Dan Evans and 14-year-old William (Logan Lerman of the defunct WB's "Jack And Bobby"). Among all of Warren's insightful, scholarly musings (always nice to be reminded how bright your spouse is, even at 1am when you kind of want him to shut up and let you sleep), I managed to point out the unrequited homosexual undertones of Charlie Prince's attachment to Ben Wade (elegantly expressed at the time as"Um, I think there was a gay thing happening in there, too"). Warren trumped me again by informing me that dynamic is a typical staple in many westerns and the documentary "The Celluloid Closet" devotes a large segment to gay subtext in oaters.

As Warren continued to support his thoughts with specifics within scenes and spot-on dialogue quotes (I only remembered the slick stuff like the "mamas" line quoted above), I realized I really didn't "see" "3:10 to Yuma" and that I should watch it and probably every western I ever saw at least once more (with the exception of "Unforgiven" which I managed to "get" when I first saw it in 1992 and in subsequent cable viewings). Because, probably more than every once in a while, you can lift the top off a potboiler and see something's actually cooking.

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