BAMBOO NATION BY PRINCE GOMOLVILAS

Romanian Karma; or: How I Became an Authority on South East European Cinema in a Matter of Days

2012-05-08T01:36:00.000-07:00

When I wrote "Romanian Cinema Is the Worst Thing to Ever Happen to the Romanian Tourism Industry" a couple years ago, I never thought that post would become the Internet phenomenon that it's become, still driving a healthy amount of traffic to this blog and still compelling people to leave remarks in what has become the longest comments thread here—a lot of it fueled by a blend of national pride, anger, and a severe misreading of my text. That post—which dared to ask, jokingly, if Romania is the shithole that Romanian cinema makes it out to be—was not so much a criticism of Romania or even Romanian cinema; it was, rather, a criticism of an industry, an international system, that only allows certain types of movies from places like Eastern Europe to cross over to the United States. Festival programmers and film distributors, you see, seem to like their Eastern European movies served up bleak, with a side of depression. That's why the only Romanian film that the average moviegoer has maybe heard of in the last few years is 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, which I also affectionately call "that Romanian abortion movie" in order to drive home my point.

Imagine my surprise when I was contacted by the Director and Founder of the South East European Film Festival, which screens movies annually in Los Angeles. She stumbled upon me via the Internet—when you Google "Romanian cinema," my blog appears on the first page of results. Seriously. So, surely, this woman—who hails from the former Yugoslavia and who is a champion of films from South East Europe—wanted to tear into me like so many Romanian commenters have on my blog, right?

Well, it turns out that she appreciated my sense of humor (and, I'm guessing, my being sophisticated enough to even want to go see films from Romania—I mean, seriously, do you know anyone who says they look forward to the newest Romanian export?). She asked me if I would be involved in her festival in some way, and that's how I ended up on two festival juries—one to determine this year's Best Short Fiction Film and one to choose Best Short Documentary—which means I had to screen 14 films, some of which were from...Romania! And although those shorts did not make Romania out to be as much of a shithole as the features I've seen, I still don't want to visit—it's a country where cops accidentally shoot you, and mothers try to marry off their daughters by placing jugs on fences as code for "Romanian Bride Available in This House! Come Right In!" No, thank you.

The idea that I could be recruited to act as some kind of authority on South East European cinema is patently absurd (I mean, I've never seen a Marvel movie I didn't like—even Daredevil!—don't judge me!), so I decided to take my duties to their illogical extreme and become as participatory in SEEFest, as it's also called, as much as possible.

I looked at the festival program and discovered that the opening night film was not only from Romania but it was also a romantic comedy! You read that correctly! They were going to screen a Romanian romantic comedy! And not only were they going to screen a Romanian romantic comedy, it was titled (say this in a thick accent) Hello! How Are You? Ha ha ha ha ha! If you're not laughing your ass off right now, you're not hearing it right. Imagine me doing a horribly offensive Romanian accent, smiling, and declaring, "Hello! How Are You? Is Romanian romantic comedy! Hello! How Are You? Is romance and comedy from Romania! Hello! How Are You?" I mean, I didn't know Romanian romantic comedies even existed. In fact, it's been reported that there hasn't been a Romanian romantic comedy since 1990! That's more than 20 years! For more than 20 years, romance in Romania has never been funny! For more than 20 years, love is something you simply don't laugh about! I mean, cops accidentally shoot you, and mothers place jugs on fences, remember?!

When I arrived at the festival location, the Goethe-Institut, in Los Angeles on Thursday, I headed straight for the free wine. You see, I still have the sneaking suspicion that "that Romanian abortion movie" is considered to be a comedy in Romania, so I needed to be fully prepared (read: liquored up) in case Hello! How Are You? was replete with horrifying imagery, say, lingering shots of dead fetuses (see: 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days).

Before I could get too drunk, I was approached by the enthusiastic and strikingly elegant festival director, who showered me with praise about my work, and introduced me to a number of people in rapid succession, before leaving me to be cornered by a Turkish reporter who wanted to interview me on camera because, you see, I am, apparently, an authority on South East European cinema! I managed to slither away because the program was about to start, but one of the reporter's Turkish colleagues assured me that they would track me down later. A promise? A threat? Drink up, Prince, it's going to be a long night!

Hello! How Are You? (Buna! Ce Faci?) is about an undersexed married couple who's lost that romantic spark after 20 years and their oversexed teenage son who can't seem to find contentment despite being quite the ladies' man. Sex is a problem in contemporary Romania—too little of it and too much of it—but the characters seem to be afflicted by something deeper—yup, an existential malaise that Internet chat rooms (the husband and wife unwittingly start an online relationship with each other) and a career in porn (the son attempts to break into the industry) can't alleviate.

Well, guess what? Although it's not as hysterically funny as the Romanians in the audience thought it was (the Consulate General of Romania was there—can you believe how crazy my life is?!), Hello! How Are You? is actually quite charming (and unexpectedly sexy). Screenwriter Lia Bugnar and director Alexandru Maftei keep the narrative light and the characters sweet for as long as possible—before boldly betraying genre and offering up a (mostly) unhappy ending. You see, the film is inspired by a true story that ends in divorce when the husband and wife finally discover they are chatting with each other. (Hey, you don't expect a Romanian movie to end happily, do you?) Although its conclusion is a bit downbeat, it's disarmingly affecting. And considering the film is about middle-class (is there a class system in Romania?) Romanians, there's nothing about the movie that screams "Romania is a shithole!"—so Hello! How Are You? has tons of good things going for it.

This trailer may be NSFW because there's a very quick boob flash:

After doing a bit of research, I discovered that I am not crazy. The film's Romanian screenwriter told a blogger:

Most Romanian films are about misery. [Hello! How Are You?] is actually a nice film, so we are already starting with friendly adjectives when describing a Romanian film.... Ever since Romanian cinema started to have international success, many films made us well-known all over the world, but we know that Romanians do not watch them because nobody wants to see the mess in his own place. Maybe this is something they will want to see.

The blogger then asked the director, "How did you manage to make our so-unattractive Bucharest into such a romantic place?" The blogger actually asked that! Maftei replied:

You must look for the beautiful Bucharest to find it. Of course, you also need to wait for the proper light.... Some of the things we did ourselves. We paved a street in front of the car wash. The city hall helped us. We said: 'We want to shoot here, and it does not look good. Please pave the street.' And they did. That street is called George Vraca. So, I think you can find a beautiful Bucharest.

I managed to leave opening night without the Turkish reporter grabbing me and without having to face the Consulate General of Romania and answer for my crimes.

...I just got back from attending closing night of SEEFest at the James Bridges Theater at UCLA, where I headed straight for the free wine as soon as I arrived—but there was no free wine to be had! They were saving it for the after-party, which means I was left wondering how I was going to sit through a Turkish political documentary about Turkey's effort to join the European Union and a Turkish art film about a woman who travels the country to collect depressing elegies. Not only that, I had been tapped to co-present the awards for Best Short Fiction Film and Best Short Documentary. No. Seriously. I had to get up in front of an audience—because I am an authority on South East European cinema! (Two films tied for Best Short Fiction Film: a wicked and psychologically perverse Slovenian drama, The Visit, written and directed by Miha Mazzini, and a simple and heartfelt Hungarian piece about cultural prejudice titled Cold Shower, written and directed by Osri Nagypal. Best Short Documentary went to A Murder Revisited, Milan Miletic's engrossing exploration of hooligan violence in Serbia.)

After barely making it through the two Turkish films without falling asleep (to say the movies were glacially paced is an understatement), I headed for the free wine. Before I could pound it down, I was cornered once again by the Turkish reporter and his colleague, and I discovered that this interview they wanted to do was for Turkish National Television!—because I am an authority on South East European cinema! A list of excuses to aid in my escape flashed through my mind.

But because the reporter was hypnotically handsome and smiled a lot, I was lured in front of the camera, where he pulled the old bait-and-switch and fired a series of politically charged and historically probing questions at me, and I had to do my best to not sound like a complete idiot and to make sure to say a few nice things about the Turkish films I had just ~~suffered~~ sat through. I mean, I was on Turkish National Television!—what was I supposed to do?! I didn't want to end up in a Turkish prison! I saw Midnight Express—I know how unpleasant that could be!

Standing before the camera, a microphone in my face, I felt like I was in some kind of nightmare because what the hell do I know about the politics and history of the region? All I know, from living in Glendale, California, which is heavily populated by Armenians, is that you don't go into a restaurant and order a Turkish coffee anywhere within the borders of this city. That's it. That's all I know. (Oh, also, it's Istanbul, not Constantinople.)

Near the end of the evening, they announced the winner of the Audience Award, which was given to—are you ready for this?!—Hello! How Are You? (Is Romanian romantic comedy!) During an award-acceptance photo op, a Romanian actor yelled, "Romania is good!" Am I paranoid, or was he looking directly at me when he said that?

This surely marks the end of Romanians' Internet war against me—Turkey can now officially pick up where they left off. Don't worry. I can handle it. (In case any Turks misread my text, I can assure you that I love you and your country! Your reporters are handsome and smile a lot!)

All in all, being a part of SEEFest was a lot of fun. I hope they invite me back next year. How could they not? After all...I am an authority on South East European cinema!

The Art of the Vajazzle; or: How to Bedazzle Your Vagina; or: I Am Addicted to "The Only Way Is Essex"

2012-01-11T12:00:00.000-08:00

People say that you should try to learn something new every day. Well, I for one will never forget the day that I learned about the "vajazzle." I was watching the first episode of The Only Way Is Essex, a reality show that has become somewhat of a cultural phenomenon in the U.K. (and that's currently only available on Hulu in the U.S.). A significant portion of that first episode is dedicated to discussing and demonstrating the practice of women who decorate their nether regions with the same kinds of bedazzling jewels that teen girls use to pretty-up their cellphones. Believe me when I say the whole ordeal is absolutely mesmerizing—and it's stuff like this that has gotten me hooked on The Only Way Is Essex. The New York Times, which refers to the show as a "British Jersey Shore," explains it best:

Not...everyone would see the show's arrival here—a kind of homecoming, given its roots in MTV reality spectacles like The Hills and Jersey Shore—as a cultural milestone. The Only Way Is Essex...has been reviled in Britain as a pestilent example of depraved New World values and a leading indicator of the apocalypse.

...If it were on television, and you happened to tune in while channel surfing, you would not be able to tell right away, and perhaps not for several minutes, that you were watching a nonfiction show.

Dropping any pretense that the action has been accidentally captured on camera—an opening title announces, "the people are all real, although some of what they do has been set up purely for your entertainment"— Essex is staged, shot, and lighted the way a drama series is, from the multiple camera angles to the too-good-to-be-true reaction shots to the choreographed entrances. No one wanders through a shot accidentally in Essex. Everything extraneous has been removed from the frame, just as in fictional filmmaking.

More centrally, the beach-house dodge—ostentatiously creating an artificial environment within which you then pretend that what's happening is real—is dispensed with. The characters in Essex enact normal lives, if wildly shallow and materialistic ones, in such an obviously artificial way that you find yourself not giving a moment's thought to what's real and what isn't. Which somehow makes it seem more authentic, rather than less.

The Only Way Is Essex has the familiar narrative rhythms of a reality show (nothing much actually happens), but every scene is so strikingly framed, composed, and edited that you know there were multiple takes and a lot of producer-meddling going on. The effect is a bit disorienting at first, but once you're sucked into the vapid world of these pretty people it's really difficult to leave—which explains why I've lately been up until three in the morning. I mean, I was completely sold when one of the characters hesitated in her vajazzling duties by explaining, "I'm not good at art." That solid gold comedy, people!

Here's a vajazzling clip:

And here's a trailer for the series—the first two seasons are on Hulu, and the third season in airing in the U.K. now:

On My Playlist: "White Van" by David Fridlund; or: Further Down the Swedish Rabbit Hole

2012-01-11T06:00:00.000-08:00

Speaking of English-language Swedish indie rock, my other big discovery is David Fridlund, who's now navigating the music scene in Austin, which means he's close enough to almost touch. And I don't mean that in a stalker-ish sort of way. (Well, okay, I do, but he doesn't know that.)

My favorite song of his at the moment is the infectious "White Van," which prompted me to leave embarrassingly gushing messages on his Facebook wall. Here's the cool music video:

Kiefer Sutherland (Almost) Confirms "24" Movie; or: I Now Have a Reason to Live Again

2012-01-09T12:00:00.000-08:00

As you know, a Kiefer Sutherland-sized hole was ripped out of my heart when 24 went off the air. I've publicly stated before, in many of my posts about the Fox action series, that 24 "is pretty much the only reason I have to live." How I'm still alive is a miracle.

So imagine the ~~boner~~ thrill I felt when news broke this past weekend about the feature-length 24 movie, which will hopefully start shooting this Spring, according to Kiefer. From Aceshowbiz.com:

"The status on the movie is that, hopefully, we will be shooting the end of April, beginning of May," stated the 45-year-old actor. Explaining about the film's plot, the Emmy winner said, "I see it as a continuation. The script that we've got right now, which I'm very, very excited about, is relatively a direct continuation. It's within six months from the end of the last episode. We'll see where it goes from there."

My mom called me within minutes of this news breaking. Isn't she a good mother? Isn't she?!

I can now pull my authentic Jack Bauer bag out of storage. (Seriously.)

On My Playlist: "Waiting for Kirsten" by Jens Lekman; or: A Song About Stalking Kirsten Dunst

2012-01-09T06:00:00.000-08:00

2012 might very well be the year that all the worst Mayan prophecies come true, but 2012 is also the year that I've been listening to a lot of Swedish indie rock. What those two things have to do with one another, I don't know. What I do know is that my journey down the Swedish indie rock rabbit hole (of songs thankfully in English, by the way) began when I accidentally stumbled upon Jens Lekman on Zune.

My favorite song of his so far is "Waiting for Kirsten," an amusing and sometimes introspective tune about celebrity stalking and, curiously, the social welfare of Gothenburg.

Jens explained the inspiration for the song at a concert: "Now the thing with Kirsten Dunst is that she said in an interview once that she liked my music, and I've been trying to be not too impressed by that. But I grew up next to a potato chips factory in the suburbs of Gothenburg. And so what can a potato chips factory boy like me do when Kirsten comes to my town except obsessively stalk her through the night?" Listen:

If you're like me, you promised yourself to never again see another Lars Von Trier movie after watching Breaking the Waves and Dancer in the Dark and wanting to stab yourself in the eye with a wooden slate (in natural lighting)—but I have to admit that Melancholia, starring Kirsten Dunst, looks moderately intriguing....

"All I Want Is Megan Fox For Christmas" by LeBon LeBon; or: David Cope Is "Too Backstreet Boys for the Backstreet Boys"

2012-01-05T06:00:00.000-08:00

In case you just can't get enough of the holiday season (I mean, really, why would you want to let go of all that reckless boozing?), take a look at this very funny and irresistibly danceable music video from LeBon LeBon, the brainchild of David Cope and Demian Mason. "All I Want Is Megan Fox for Christmas" is as delightfully absurd as Wham's "Last Christmas"—but this time it's intentional. (One would hope.) Watch:

One of the most painful Jukebox Stories shows that Brandon Patton and I have ever performed was probably in Philadelphia (don't ask), but I did get to meet David Cope, who is the super-talented musician we opened for and who had a stockpile of terrific original songs to prove his super-talent. I've written about him (and his idiosyncrasies) before here, most notably about how the Backstreet Boys' manager once told him that a song he wrote was "too Backstreet Boys for the Backstreet Boys." How freaking cool is that? David Cope, you're Philadelphia's saving grace!

Can't get enough David Cope? Here he is on ukulele. Ukulele!:

Put the Word "Naked" in Every Post; or: Bamboo Nation by the Numbers

2012-01-03T18:00:00.000-08:00

Exactly who read Bamboo Nation in 2011? Yes, like you, this question has kept me up many a restless night. Thanks to Google Analytics, I have all the answers!

What are the top ten countries/territories that visit Bamboo Nation?

United States
United Kingdom
Canada
Australia
Germany
Philippines
Indonesia
India
France
Brazil

By the way, Romania (responsible for the longest comments thread on this blog) came in at #18, and "my homeland" (Thailand) came in at #25.

What are the top ten United States that visit Bamboo Nation?

California
New York
Texas
Florida
Illinois
Pennsylvania
Massachusetts
New Jersey
Ohio
Virginia

What are the top ten American cities that visit Bamboo Nation?

New York
Los Angeles
Chicago
San Francisco
Irvine
Dallas
Houston
Santa Clarita
Seattle
Washington

And, finally, what are the top ten keyword phrases typed into search engines that brought new visitors to Bamboo Nation?

john corbett
drake bell naked
anderson cooper naked
grand view topless coffee shop
michael phelps naked
beautiful asses
grand view coffee shop
michael phelps nude
most beautiful ass
channing tatum naked

[src: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Michael_Phelps_wins_8th_gold_medal.jpg]

Cat Pushes Another Cat Down a Ladder

2012-01-03T12:00:00.000-08:00

No cats were seriously injured in this video, according to the owners. Which means, yes, you can laugh. Because there's no reason you wouldn't find an attempted mafia hit funny. Watch:

To truly get the fully effect of this video, you have to imagine me, watching it and laughing hysterically and hitting "replay" repeatedly.

Not Here So Much, but There, There, and There

2011-10-10T13:02:00.000-07:00

As you may have noticed, content output on this blog has slowed down. (Channing Tatum demands that I cook for him, so it cuts into my writing time.) While I'll continue to check in here when I have something long and drawn out (and undoubtedly riveting!) to express, you can still keep up with me on a regular basis through other means of 21st century communication:

Sign up on my e-mail list for occasional event announcements (worldwide!).

Follow me on Twitter.

Subscribe to my (and Pork Chop's) YouTube page.

Wendy Wasserstein, Julie Salamon, and an Uncracked Spine

2011-09-07T11:00:00.000-07:00

Because this blog is pretty well-trafficked, people with something to promote often try to grab my attention—I get invited to movie screenings and plays; I get press releases about anime conventions and human-rights fundraisers; I get sent pairs of underwear to review. (Seriously. No. Seriously.) But because I'm almost always immersed in writing scripts or reading scripts (or compulsively watching past seasons of Hell's Kitchen), I often turn things down.

So when a publicist offered to send me an advanced copy of Wendy and the Lost Boys, an epic (anything over 100 pages is epic to me) biography of Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Wendy Wasserstein, I naturally had to say no. But something in the press release caught my eye: the book was written by journalist Julie Salamon. So I gave the publicist my mailing address and agreed to review the biography.

You see, Julie Salamon wrote one of my favorite books of all time: The Devil's Candy, a juicy behind-the-scenes expose about the making of The Bonfire of the Vanities, a famously disastrous movie based on the famously successful Tom Wolfe novel. The Devil's Candy is chock full of insider insight into Hollywood machinations, and serves as an excellent primer for anyone who wants to be a part of the Hollywood establishment. I learned things about how mainstream movies are made that were never even touched upon in my four years in film school. (Perhaps it was one of the reasons I shifted academic paths and pursued an MFA in Playwriting instead?)

The Devil's Candy is not so much a takedown as it is a cautionary tale and a look at how artists—actors, directors, costume designers, editors, etc.—navigate through vicious terrain simply because they love what they do.

Which brings us to today. The day I'm supposed to post a review of Wendy and the Lost Boys. It's been a month since I've had the book, maybe two...and I haven't even opened it. It's not that I don't want to. I mean, if The Devil's Candy provides a wealth of knowledge about the film industry, this biography certainly provides invaluable information about theatre, a world that I know and love and would welcome knowing and loving more.

But, obviously, I can't write a review. All I can do is tell you that I saw a small production of Wasserstein's An American Daughter many years ago in the San Francisco Bay Area, and I've used excerpts from that play in my playwriting classes. I can also tell you that Wasserstein wrote the screenplay for the underrated Paul Rudd/Jennifer Aniston comedy/drama The Object of My Affection, based on the gay man/straight woman novel by Stephen McCauley. The film is an astute exploration of modern-day friendships and an excellent showcase for Rudd and Aniston's more subtle comic acting.

As for Wendy and the Lost Boys, I hope to post a full review soon. And by soon, I mean check back next year. You see, it's easier to put on a pair of underwear than to read a book.

[Crossposted at The Gamut.]

You've Been Begging for This: "Asian Internet Forum Song"!

2011-08-27T10:31:00.000-07:00

Even though we live on opposite coasts, Brandon Patton and I managed to collaborate on a new music video. (Well, actually, Brandon did everything and I just came in at the last minute and took half the credit—but who's keeping track?) One of the most talked about pieces at the National Asian American Theater Festival, where we performed our Jukebox Stories show to hugely enthusiastic houses, "Asian Internet Forum Song" is sure to go viral among the Asian-American community. But white people will dig it too. (Because I know white people, I like people, I've slept with white people.) Watch:

By the way, Brandon just released a fantastic new album!

A Music Video! Of Pork Chop! Walking for Kisses!

2011-07-25T23:57:00.000-07:00

By now you've watched the viral sensation known as "Walking for Kisses" over and over again and understood its tremendous power and influence. But nothing—nothing, I tell you!—has prepared you for the "Walking for Kisses" music video, which cements Pork Chop's reputation of adorableness and Brandon Patton's musical genius. I love them both. And here's why:

Yes, yes, yes!

Download a free MP3 of Brandon Patton's "Walking for Kisses (The Ballad of Pork Chop)" here.

The Power and Influence of "Walking for Kisses"; Plus, a Behind-the-Scenes Exclusive

2011-07-11T09:47:00.001-07:00

I always knew that Pork Chop's "Walking for Kisses" routine would go viral on the Internet, but I didn't quite anticipate how far and wide and crazy it would spread.

My favorite mention is on The Huffington Post, but the video has also been featured on The Animal Rescue Site, Buzzfeed, Tosh.0 blog, The Daily What, and the front page of AOL (!), among many others. Google "walking for kisses," and you'll see what I'm talking about. Pork Chop and I turned down offers to air the video on the G4 cable network and the Fox News Channel—I mean, what?, give them permission to run the clip so they can mumble "that's f*ckin' gay" and laugh cruelly? No way. (Chalk it up to paranoia, but those are the instructions I received from Pork Chop.)

Anyway, I did an exclusive interview for the Catsparella blog, where I give some insight on how "Walking for Kisses" came to be. Check it out.

Read my interview on the Catsparella.

Walking for Kisses [Starring Pork Chop]

2011-06-28T17:54:00.000-07:00

I am well aware that I am on the precipice of losing absolutely all street cred. In the following video, my beloved cat Pork Chop and I go...WALKING...FOR...KISSES! Pork Chop simply doesn't get more cute and lovable than this. Watch:

Oh, the Horror!

2011-06-22T00:51:00.000-07:00

I wrote a new post for the You Offend Me You Offend My Family blog.

Read "Oh, the Horror!"

Jukebox Stories and the PR Campaign That Just Won't Die

2011-06-21T15:17:00.000-07:00

I don't want to brag (okay, I do, but don't tell anybody), but my theatrical extravaganza, JUKEBOX STORIES: THE GREATEST HITS / B-SIDES / BONUS TRACKS / REUNION / FAREWELL / COMEBACK TOUR, looks like it's going to have some rockin' good houses this weekend at the National Asian American Theater Festival. I've been stoking the fires of a red-hot publicity campaign, and the latest piece of that is this interview with me (in my home office!) talking about how gay High School Musical is and about how this very blog feeds into my live performances. Watch:

Thanks to Christine Balance (from UC-Irvine) for expertly conducting the interview and to Gary Gabisan (from the Center for Asian American Media) for expertly producing.

If you're in Los Angeles this weekend, Jukebox Stories is the place to be! Click here for tickets and more information.

The Top Five Music Videos That "Honor" Women's Butts

2011-06-03T09:00:00.000-07:00

I wrote a new post for The Bilerico Project.

Read "The Top Five Music Videos That 'Honor' Women's Butts."

More Cool Book Trailers

2011-06-03T06:00:00.001-07:00

I wrote a new post for The Gamut.

Read "More Cool Book Trailers."

F*ck 3D--"The Room" Is the Only Movie You Truly Have to See in a Theater

2011-06-02T12:00:00.000-07:00

Surely, you've all seen trailers for The Room (2003), which is considered to be one of the worst films ever made, a passion project produced, written, and directed by a mysterious, probably Austrian "visionary" named Tommy Wiseau. In case you don't know what I'm talking about or need a reminder, watch this:

Some friends and I went to a midnight screening of The Room last weekend (it plays every last Friday and Saturday of every month at the Laemmle Sunset 5 in Los Angeles and all over the world), and I'm not exaggerating when I say that it was one of the most fun and gratifying experiences I've ever had going to the movies.

Yes, the film is bad—and, subsequently, unintentionally funny—but audiences over the last seven years or so have been able to perfect the brilliant stream of audience-participation bits—yelling hilarious commentary at the screen, acting out the movie's weird football sequences, throwing plastic spoons in honor of the framed spoon artwork that appears much too often, and at one point marching out of the theater in mock indignation and protest. Sure, The Rocky Horror Picture Show is the granddaddy of audience-participation films, but, since people are laughing AT The Room, it's a mind-bending experience. (By the way, don't feel bad for Tommy Wiseau, he's savvy enough to laugh at the film too—all the way to the bank.)

The fact that theatergoers could collectively shape the MST3K-like commentary (which, I presume, continues to evolve) gives me faith in humankind. No. Seriously.

Do not watch this movie on DVD—even with a group of people! Go to a screening!

Visit The Room website for screening information.

Read about the history of The Room and its cult status among Hollywood celebrities. (Michael Cera was there the night I went!)

The Crazy Nastyass Honey Badger [NSFW?]

2011-06-02T06:00:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are tired of "Sassy Gay Friend" (I mean, when this stuff is showing up on Comedy Central it's time to hang up the scarf, isn't it?), "Randall's Wild Wild World of Animals" should keep you sufficiently occupied and laughing. It's just some dude named Randall—who has a swish in his voice that could stop traffic—narrating National Geographic videos of animals in the wild. Watch this one [NSFW because of some foul language]:

See more of "Randall's Wild Wild World of Animals."

[Crossposted at The Bilerico Project.]

Amusing Inner Monologues + Yummy Chinese Cooking = "Romance of the Three Kitchens"

2011-06-01T12:00:00.000-07:00

The brainchild of sometimes-musician Scott Tang and often starring the sometimes-musician Quincy Surasmith, "Romance of the Three Kitchens" is a unique web series that blends introspective, often funny inner monologues with enticing, meditative shots of Chinese cooking. What's more, if you're sufficiently inspired by watching regular folks make meals, the series' official website provides actual recipes—the show is a gift that keeps on giving! (Me? I can throw a frozen dinner in the microwave with the flick of a wrist!)

One of my favorite episodes riffs on one of my fondest childhood memories: The Greatest American Hero. That lead character's signature clumsiness and outsider status are things an Asian-American kid growing up in Indiana like me could identify with. Even back then, I was prone to turn blankets into capes to prove it.

Anyway, watch:

Visit the "Romance of the Three Kitchens" website for more videos and (presumably) tasty recipes.

I was hoping to break this news to you, but KCRW's food blog beat me to the punch. (But I bet my readers can generate more views than their readers! Yeah, that's right! Gauntlet thrown down, KCRW!)

I Love "Disaster Date"; or: Why Do I Delight in Such Cruelty?

2011-06-01T06:00:00.001-07:00

Because I'm going through Celebrity Apprentice withdrawals, I have to find pleasure wherever I can get it. So that means I'm obsessively watching episodes of MTV's Disaster Date, a funny prank show that sometimes crosses the line into psychological cruelty. (The segment in which a woman being pranked is tricked into believing that her wacko date accidentally sets another man of fire? Yeah, that's fucked up.) Here's the Season 4 trailer:

Which friends of mine deserve to get punked? Don't think I won't do it! Don't think I won't do it!

Meat Loaf Goes Batsh*t Crazy (Like a Bat out of Hell); or: "The Celebrity Apprentice" Is Over, but I Still Dream About It

2011-05-31T09:00:00.000-07:00

The Celebrity Apprentice is the only show I watch as it airs, instead of recording it on my DVR and watching it later while doing something else at the same time, like, you know, lifting my eight-pound weights during a vigorous home workout session.

Well, this season, which has brought me so much unbridled joy, had wrapped, and I am seriously going through withdrawals. I know some people boycotted this season because Donald Trump went politically bonkers, but the show has never been about him. It's about genuine rock stars like Meat Loaf (who, incidentally, goes by "Meat") unleashing an explosion of anger and expletives at the genuinely crazy Gary Busey, in a segment that will surely go down in Apprentice history as the greatest (and, by the way, most unwarranted) freakout ever. Not since Melissa Rivers's "whore pit vipers" meltdown have we be treated to such entertainment. Watch:

To cope with The Celebrity Apprentice's absence, I am currently listening to Meat Loaf albums obsessively (Bat out of Hell II: Back into Hell is epic, indulgent, rocking-good fun—all hail, songwriter Jim Steinman!), and I've got country singer John Rich and crunk king Lil' Jon's albums waiting in the wings.

Please, NBC, please please please bring The Celebrity Apprentice back!

(An additional, unexpected benefit of the series? The always funny, sometimes sublime Entertainment Weekly recaps of each episode written by Dalton Ross. Dalton Ross, I love you! No. I love you. No. What I mean is, I looooove you!)

Chris Mintz-Plasse and Dave Franco Verbally F*ck Each Other [NSFW?]

2011-05-31T06:00:00.000-07:00

In this delightfully vulgar game of verbal gay chicken, Superbad's McLovin' and James Franco's younger brother go head to head in a battle of wills. What is it about (presumably) straight guys who ~~finger~~ play around with their sexual comfort zones that I find so damn hot? I don't know! I just do. The following video is not safe for work—unless you work at a porn studio in Chatsworth. (Chatsworth is where it all happens, don't you know?) Watch:

You're So Hot with Chris Mintz-Plasse and Dave Franco from Dave Franco

[Crossposted at The Bilerico Project.]

I Almost Never Use the Word "Groundbreaking," but I'm Using It Now: "Krunk Fu Battle Battle" at East West Players

2011-05-21T03:22:00.000-07:00

This post may get me in a bit of hot water because, when I've talked smack about the Los Angeles Times before, the forces of darkness have come after me. But, hey, a boy's gotta do what a boy's gotta do.

First thing's first. Krunk Fu Battle Battle, which is currently enjoying its world premiere run at East West Players in Los Angeles, is the first Asian-American hip-hop musical—with book by Qui Nguyen, lyrics by Beau Sia, vocal music by Marc Macalintal, and dance music provided by Rynan Paguio and Jason Tyler Chong. Performed by a crazy-talented cast of veteran actors and nimble newcomers, Krunk Fu is also perhaps the most energetic and loudest show ever staged by the 45-year-old company.

The visually stunning B-boy choreography by Jason Tyler Chong challenges the actor-singer-dancers to bust moves that are incredible feats of the human body—stunt work in the name of dance—and everybody's more than game. (I myself can barely not trip over myself and onto my ass when I play Dance Central on my XBOX Kinect, so what these people do amazes me to the point where I have to convince myself that what they're doing is real and that I'm not just dreaming it—and, by the way, I've already seen the show twice.)

The dance numbers (blending old-school breaking and new-school hip-hop) and music numbers (blending rap, R&B, and traditional musical-theatre ballads) are framed by the story of an Asian-American high school student who dance-battles the best B-Boys in Brooklyn's Chinatown for control of the campus and for the heart of a girl. Under the direction of Tim Dang (who knows his way around a Sondheim musical, but embraces a surprising and fresh vision here), the entire production is infused with the spirit of hip-hop—from the colorful set to the highly stylized, animated performances that evoke contemporary, urban commedia dell'arte. (I mean, is there such a thing?!)

Krunk Fu is anchored by irresistibly charming performances from lead actor Lawrence Kao and Blas Lorenzo as his mentor; a comic tour de force by Matt Tayao; the powerful, reaching-to-the-back-of-the-house pipes of Joan Almedilla; the delightfully showboating acrobatics of the lead villain played by Leng Phe; and muscular acting, singing, and dancing support from Cesar Cipriano, Liza B. Domingo, Evan Moua, Megumi Tatsumikawa, and Troy Terashita.

Okay. Is it time for me to get in trouble yet? Here we go....

While the Los Angeles Times review of Krunk Fu Battle Battle is mostly positive and acknowledges the dance numbers, the cast, and the director, reviewer Charlotte Stoudt takes a quick swipe at the show by calling it "after-school special material"—which goes to show you the sometimes willing naivete of white intelligentsia. It's right that reviewers consider plays in a larger context—but simply using the lens of the broad "American theatre" to view a show like Krunk Fu does a disservice to her readers and suggests that she is unable (or unwilling?) to understand the context in which a show like Krunk Fu has come to be.

After-school specials are typically didactic TV programs for children and teenagers that tackle social issues and hit audiences over the head with messages. While the underdogs in Krunk Fu Battle Battle stand up for themselves in the end and make nice with the bad guys, that's not the message. That's not what this play is doing. I'm reminded of Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio's memorable line in the James Cameron movie, The Abyss: "You have to look with better eyes than that!"

Yes, the almost counterintuitive melding of traditional musical theatre, hip-hop culture, and Asian America can rightly be called "groundbreaking," but there's so much more happening here.

As Asian Americans continue to make progress in terms of positive representation in the mainstream media, Asian-American males have always been behind the curve. In my play, Model Citizens (which was Runner-Up for a National Play Award in 2000), an Asian-American character succinctly states his biggest social gripe: "The feminization of my entire culture, especially in the mainstream media.... As in, Asian American women and men—and men—are overly feminized. Our women become girls, and our men become emasculated." While a lot has changed since I wrote those lines more than a decade ago, Asian men are still struggling (rightly or wrongly so) with their place in this culture, as evidenced by the unusually epic essay, "Paper Tigers," by Wesley Yang in a recent issue of New York magazine. (Honestly, I still haven't read the whole thing—I mean, this?! Again?! Still?!)

Given this information—this necessary context—to see a stage full of hot, masculine Asian-American men aggressively asserting their sexuality through the art of dance (seriously, people, these guys are so scorching hot I ALMOST WENT OUT OF MY FREAKING MIND) in a show that's running for seven weeks in a 240-seat theater in a major metropolitan city is groundbreaking. No matter that it's an ethnic-specific theatre company—the fact that it's happening anywhere at all is pretty amazing. Sure, we've seen Asian-American men wow the masses on America's Best Dance Crew on TV, but with Krunk Fu at EWP we're in complete control of our own "story" and we call the shots on how our history is shaped and redefined. See the difference? (By the way, not to worry, potential straight male and lesbian audience members—there's plenty of B-girl and MILF eye candy to go around.)

You know what else is groundbreaking? Seeing Asian Americans populate a story about high school kids. Our collective vision of the teen genre—be it in theatre, TV, or film (but especially film)—is saturated with Caucasians. I mean, hell, the most memorable Asian face in a high school story in any medium is Long Duk Dong in Sixteen Candles. Krunk Fu Battle Battle presents male characters on the other end of the spectrum. Yeah, you won't see this on television or at the movies any time soon.

You know what else you won't see? A remarkably pan-Asian cast: B-boys of Cambodian, Chinese, Filipino, Hmong, and Japanese descent bounce around stage—some of whom are actual B-boys who had to receive vigorous acting training to convincingly play their roles (which they do!).

Finally, I have to ask: was the "after-school special" comment written because Krunk Fu Battle Battle dares not to be yet another play about "white people problems"? Or because the show aims for a specific audience of middle- and working-class minorities, as well as young urban non-theatregoers who need to be eased into a new form? I mean, after all, the show's book writer, Qui Nguyen, is the co-artistic director and co-founder of the Obie Award-winning Vampire Cowboys in New York, a company whose audience demographic is the exact young demographic that theatres around the nation are begging for, form committees to get.

Okay, while I'm at it, I'm going to wag my finger at Charlotte Stoudt's last review of an East West Players production, namely Paul Kikuchi's Wrinkles—because it's relevant to what I'm discussing here. Again, her review is mostly positive, pointing out how funny the play is, but she undercuts it by comparing it to a "sitcom" and calling it "a TV pilot on stage." Some may take that as a compliment, but when it comes from theatre critics? Nope. It's a dig. It's always been a dig, and it always will be a dig.

Yet again, though, she ignores the context, the history. (Are you detecting a pattern here?)

East West Players, the nation's premiere Asian-American theatre company and the longest-running theatre of color in the United States, was founded by Mako and friends 45 years ago, not as alternative to mainstream theatres—EWP was formed as a reaction to the way Asian-American actors were stereotyped in film and on TV.

All this is to say that, even if Wrinkles truly embraced sitcom form, that's the goddamn point. On television, Asian Americans had one season of Margaret Cho's All-American Girl in 1994-1995, and that's it. In the entire history of television, that's it! We had one program that could truly be considered "Asian American." (NBC's Outsourced doesn't really count—it's got a white lead, and to think that the South Asian media-representation struggle and the Asian Pacific struggle is the same is a bit naive.) So what I'm saying is, I'm surprised there aren't more Asian-American sitcoms on stage. There should be Asian-American sitcoms on stage all the time, 24 hours a days, 365 days a year! (And this point here parallels the point of Krunk Fu taking ownership of a high school comedy. This is the John Hughes movie we never had. Except it's on stage—perhaps elsewhere later...? By the way, don't mistake what I'm saying. This production isn't a play longing to be a film. It's smartly and highly theatrical, a live performance that can't be experienced in any other way. Form and content are two different things.)

All right. My work is done here. Go see Krunk Fu Battle Battle.

Krunk Fu Battle Battle runs through June 26, 2011, at East West Players in Los Angeles.

For those of you on a tight budget, go with a group to get a discount. Or check for cheap tickets on Goldstar and LA Stage Alliance. Or call the theater about its rush-ticket policy or usher one night and see the show for free. You see? I really want you to see this thing.