Blythe Spirit

This is It

We interrupt your regularly scheduled bad hair photos for a post about Michael Jackson. Which is only appropriate, since most of the bad hair was styled while listening to the Thriller album on cassette tape in my bathroom.

I haven’t had much positive to say about MJ over the past decade or so. He was so, well, strange, and whenever it seemed like he might finally fade into the background and raise his kids, he would do something creepy or bizarre that confirmed how troubled he was and that he was passing that trouble along to his children. And as much as I love to dance around my living room to Beat It, all the available evidence suggested that the plastic surgery and the financial and legal problems and the rumored drug use had combined to sap his health and his talent. I wasn’t even that sad when he died because the part of him I loved, his magic, appeared to have evaporated years ago.

But I did love him once upon a time, and I’d heard “This is It” was worth seeing. So I saw it.

And it made me sad and happy. It was the closest I’ll ever get to seeing a Michael Jackson concert. It reminded what a genius he was. It made me question the news reports about his health. It made me think of him as a man and a professional, not just an over-the-hill singer who had had way too much plastic surgery and dangled his baby over a balcony.

If Michael Jackson had allowed the world a glimpse of his life like the one I saw in “This is It,” things might have been different for him. He seemed capable, physically healthy, in tune, and professional. I’ve read that he wished he could live his whole life onstage, and I can see why. He was skinny and his nose looked weird, but he knew exactly how to act up there, and exactly what he wanted, and he was humble but directive. He danced and sang like a gracefully aging pop star, not like the slightly crippled and over-dubbed skeleton he seemed in the press. It’s true, he couldn’t move like he did in 1983, but neither can I, and neither can Madonna.

Unfortunately it seems like he was incapable of living a happy or normal offstage life. He hated the press so he became a recluse, which only made him seem incapacitated and strange. He made his kids wear masks and he left the country and then held cryptic press conferences. He spent a lot of time with “spiritual advisors” who then sold their stories to the tabloids. His relationships with women were, well, inexplicable, and his relationships with young children were, at the very least, suspicious. His family and his upbringing were probably partially to blame.

But it seems to me that he had one main problem, which was also his gift: he was simply a vessel for his art, and outside that art, he absolutely couldn’t figure out how to function. (Bear with me here for the artsy fartsy section. I just can’t think of this in any other way.) Michael Jackson’s body and his life offstage were seriously flawed, but his art was close to perfect. And when I say his art, I mean the whole package – the songwriting, the charisma, the singing, and of course the dancing. The film makes clear that it was all of a piece for him. He didn’t write a song, then learn to sing it, then choreograph a dance. It all came to him at one time, and when he sang, it appeared that he had to move; he couldn’t imagine music without song, without dance. And I can only imagine if he lived his whole life knowing the perfection of that feeling, he was flummoxed by the imperfection of every other aspect of his existence.

I wonder if that’s why he was enamored with the innocence of children, and why he kept searching for spiritual fulfillment, and why he took drugs to help him sleep, and why he couldn’t stop shaving off parts of his nose.

So “This is It” was great fun because it reminded me how much I love to listen to Michael Jackson and to watch him dance. And it was sad, not because there was a big tragic ending where his dancers wept over his death (though I’m sure that happened, they kept it tastefully off camera), but because it seems like reports of his demise had been greatly exaggerated.

I wonder if he was poised for something magic once again.

Was I right?

So, was I right?

Yes and No.

The Good:
Mya and Donny both did well. And Mark was all right. If he can get over the Kung Fu poses he’ll do well.

The Bad:
Chuck Liddell was not good, but he has that sincerity of purpose that it’s hard not to love. I practically had to turn off the TV when Tom DeLay came on, if only due to his practice wardrobe. And what can you say about Macy Gray? It almost feels mean to criticize her – she seems like she’s living in some far-off wonderland.

The Surprising:
Kelly Osbourne was very good! And she’ll get even better with practice. I guess Louis really is a genius teacher. She’s also got the personality lacking in everyone else but the snowboarder hobbit. He’s charming but I’m not sure he has anything in his bag of tricks besides those backflips.

Aaron Carter was even more annoying than I thought he’d be. Ick. I also had hope for Ashley Hamilton and there’s no denying he’s attractive but man, he hasn’t an ounce of rhythm.

Joanna Krupa could be the next Brooke Burke. Unfortunately that means we’ll also being seeing Derek again, week after week.

Who knew Kathy Ireland was so tall? And poor Tony, he really deserves to win, but this is not going to be his season.

I felt an overall lack of pizzazz. Even in the glare of the sequins. It’s why Kelly Osbourne stood out so clearly and why Donny did well. Where is the sex appeal? Where is the passion? WHERE IS GILLES? (Excuse me, I’ve started channeling Bruno.)

Dreaming with the Stars

I hate to follow up a post about a dance-themed reality TV show with another post about a dance-themed reality tv show, but…I don’t really hate to do it. I love it.

Did you see the new cast of Dancing with the Stars has been announced? And, according to the headlines, its most exciting member is Tom DeLay. Wha? I can’t wait to see what John Stewart has to say about this development (don’t tell me, we don’t get to watch him until a day later).

My predictions:
-Final three = Mya, Marc Dacascos, Donny Osmond.
Mya and Donny both have dance/performance backgrounds. She was in the move musical Chicago, he was in Joseph & The Amazingly White Teeth (or something). Somehow it doesn’t seem fair to pit a professional dancer against, say a snowboarder or a rodeo cowboy but then again, Lil Kim didn’t get voted off because she was a bad dancer. I’m most excited about Marc Dacascos who plays the Chairman on Iron Chef America. He is a martial artist and I really hope they pair him with someone besides Karina because she scares me.

-Possible spoiler = Aaron Carter
Also has a performance background. But, based on his bizarre family reality TV show, might be kind of a jerk. Which could hurt him. He’s no Cody Linley in the wide-eyed ingenue department, is all I’m saying.

-First to go = Macy Gray or Chuck Liddell
Have you seen Macy Gray move? Yikes. And I just don’t have much hope for the Ultimate Fighting Champion. I’d say DeLay might get kicked off early but the Republicans are fired up and like to get out the vote.

-Other possible nightmares: Joanna Krupa and Kathy Ireland
Models seem to have a hard time with rhythm and movement on this show. Except for Brooke Burke, of course. Because she was BORN TO BE A DANCER!!! according to the judges.

Now I’m on pins and needles, wondering which professional dancers will be cast with the celebs. Any predictions? Hopes? Dreams?

So You Think You Can Come Up With A Better Name For This Show

I try not to be embarrassed about the number of hours I spend watching reality television, but sometimes it’s hard. I have sworn that I will not get caught up in The Biggest Loser this fall, not because it’s emotionally manipulative (even though it is) but because it consumes four full hours per week of my precious post-bedtime evenings. I’m just not that committed to America’s weight loss trials and triumphs. I’d all but sworn off American Idol until Paula Abdul went down in a blaze of glory and now, well, I might have to watch. But NOT during the audition rounds. At least not all of them. I wish I could quit Dancing with the Stars but I’m not sure I can resist. I’m not proud of my weakness for the Paso Doble.

I am proud, however, to announce that I am a huge fan of So You Think You Can Dance. When I saw it for the first time I couldn’t quite believe that real dance – not fake ballroom, not Michael Jackson video ripoffs, not the Nutcracker on PBS – was on network prime time. I loved it but I was sure it wouldn’t last. Was the country that made The Swan a hit really going to support choreography starring electronica and a crash test dummy narrative? Would anyone tune in to a show with such a cumbersome title? Would we get it?

But, apparently, we do. The gorgeous host, Cat Deeley, manages to seem geniunely sweet and goofy and like the anti-Seacrest. The judges are nerdy and over-Botoxed but do seem to know what they’re talking about and generally don’t sound like they are on drugs. Well, except Lil C. The contestants are jaw-droppingly talented, and instead of being sold mainly on their back stories (The Widowed Church Guy! The Country Girl Whose Daddy Is In Prison!), they are featured for their talent. The prize, though nothing to sneeze at, matters less than the performances and the exposure the dancers receive. And, most thrillingly to me, the choreography is sometimes strange and inaccessible but always interesting.

Don’t tell anyone, but I think we, as a television-viewing public, are appreciating Art. And it’s on Fox. Please make every effort to keep this development from Rupert Murdoch, because this is a slippery slope. What’s next? Opera?

P.S.
I wanted Janette to win. I think Kayla was thwarted by her own weak choreography in her solos, but she absolutely rocked the stage whenever someone else gave her something to do. I believe it’s unfair that they split the competition along gender lines until the end, because at least three of the women should have made it to the final four. I loved the Butt Dance. Mia Michaels needs a new makeup artist. I’ve downloaded half the music from this season. I can’t wait until the new season starts.

It Don’t Get Better Than This

During the Tony awards, Bret Michaels wraps up a rollicking performance of “Nothing but a Good Time” with his Poison bandmates. Bret gets a little carried away taking his bow. The Tony show producers are hyper-aware of their schedule, considering this is the lowest-rated of the low-rated awards shows, and they need to get on with things to keep their advertisers happy. So they cue the scene change, assuming that Bret will notice there’s a giant piece of scenery barreling down from the ceiling at him and get out of the way. Bret, suddenly realizing he’s supposed to be exiting upstage along with his bandmates, turns around and makes a leap for the drum platform. C.C. DeVille tries to give him a hand. Bret almost makes it, but he’s on a collision course, and the audience cringes as he is clotheslined by a huge mural of the Manhattan skyline. Stockard Channing, gripping a fur stole, belts out “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” stage left.

That whole scenario sounds like a SNL sketch from the 1980’s, and I’m quite sure that until a couple of weeks ago neither Poison nor Stockard Channing could ever have imagined they’d be sharing a stage. But that’s showbiz, right?

Following the mishap, Tonys host Neil Patrick Harris takes the stage, makes a joke, and says, “Oh, he’s fine!” and gets on with the show. Because that’s what you do in the theatre. If Bret had been knocked unconscious during a swordfight in Romeo and Juliet (“Starcrossed Lovers’ Bus?”), they’d have dragged him offstage and his understudy would have appeared seconds later. He probably would have worn a little SuperGlue on his bruised nose during the next day’s matinee. That’s it.

Back in 1986, while promoting Look What the Cat Dragged In, Bret probably got beaned in the head by C.C.’s high kicks once or twice. Considering the way liquor hinders one’s reaction time, it’s inevitable. But I”m sure he just went right on singing “Talk Dirty to Me” while wiping the blood out of his eyes, no harm done.

But now that Bret’s a reality TV star and a blogger, he posts pathetic photos of his injuries. He blogs about how it’s not his fault, mentioning that Liza Minnelli rushed to his dressing room after the accident. He whines.

And though my fifteen-year-old self who thought hair bands were all badass would be sorely disappointed, I have to admit I’m not completely shocked by this turn of events. Just take a look at that album cover and tell me those guys weren’t ultimately headed for musical theatre. Or, possibly, the circus.

Bret, it don’t get better than this.

Current Playlist

Smooth Criminal by Alien Ant Farm
This is a rad remake of a rad Michael Jackson song and who doesn’t love a band called Alien Ant Farm?

Viva La Vida by Coldplay
Makes me want to jump around the room, flailing my arms. In a good way.

Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard and Market Irglova
I’d sort of forgotten about this until I saw it again on American Idol. It’s lovely. I’m still trying to forget that the singers met when she was like nine and he was thirty-five and they’re now a couple.

My Maria by Brooks & Dunn
Apparently all that country music in my past is seeping to the surface. (This is a ridiculous video but the audio is the best I could find.)

Chasing Pavements by Adele
She performed at the Grammys in her stocking feet which bugged me a little but after I heard her voice I didn’t care.

Renegade by Styx
Did you ever see the Styx episode of Behind the Music where Tommy Shaw made fun of Dennis DeYoung and Dennis DeYoung got all miffed and Tommy just continued to mock him? It’s right up there with the Leif Garrett one.

Ruminations on the Tabloids in the Grocery Check-Out

OBAMA’S GAY LOVER TELLS ALL: Apparently this is what happens when we get a president with some dress sense.

ASHLEY TISDALE GOES BRUNETTE: Who is Ashley Tisdale? And that looks like her natural color to me.

MELISSA JOAN HART SHOWS OFF HER BIKINI BODY: Isn’t she a witch? Shouldn’t she have magicked a bikini body long ago?

INSIDE JON AND KATE’S MILLION-DOLLAR DIVORCE: I’m waiting for their hairstylist to get her own reality show. Or to be sued for the bad publicity resulting from Kate’s hairdo and Jon’s plugs.

Fabulous

I’ve admitted before that I have a conflicted impression of Gwyneth Paltrow. On one hand, she’s elegant and interesting and has a hot husband and cute kids and you don’t see her slouching down the red carpet with her nipple hanging out. (Indeed, these are our standards for decent celebrity behavior nowadays.) On the other hand, she has fashioned herself into a kind of lifestyle guru and speaks in public about how great her macrobiotic diet and personal trainer make her feel, and how everyone should give them a try.

So, depending on my mood, I react to these kinds of statements in one of two ways. When I’m in a pro-Gwynnie state of mind, I sort of appreciate her candor. She says she likes to drink wine and eat cheese and therefore must work out for two hours each day. She does not try to tell us she maintains her figure on a diet of French fries and milkshakes and tranquil walks on the beach. She talks about how she’s chosen not to work as much as she used to because she doesn’t like to leave home in the morning when her kids are asleep and come home after they’ve gone to bed. She doesn’t pretend she’s One of Us. She admits that she has two nannies.

But when I’m feeling cranky, I want her to dial it down. Is life really so difficult for someone who has two nannies and a cellar full of wine and a cupboard full of cheese and a Pilates studio in her back yard? Five days last year she had to work and didn’t get to see her children at bedtime. How often does that happen to the average working parent? About once a week. Now I realize I’m sitting here in my comfy chair at 3:49 on a weekday afternoon, typing away on a nice laptop and wifi, which probably puts me closer to Gwyneth on the scale of most- to least-annoying complainers than to your average hard-working grocery store employee. But still! She’s advising us to buy a jumpsuit? Seriously?

So, tell me, is it better for celebrities to be out of touch with the way most of us live but at least to admit it? Or do you prefer the Fabulous People who swear they still do their own grocery shopping?

Why I am Going To Hell

Last week, while surfing the CNN website for ways that I can make a difference in the lives of starving orphans and a detailed breakdown of the latest stock market fluctuations (by which I mean skimming the entertainment section for the previous night’s American Idol results since I missed it and forgot to set the DVR), I saw this headline:
Another racy Prejean photo emerges; site promises more

And I was surprised that Sister Helen Prejean, the human rights activist brought to my attention (as are so many important humanitarian heroes) by Susan Sarandon, Tim Robbins, Sean Penn, and a touching but probably somewhat overblown biopic, was posing for racy photos. So of course I clicked through and learned that Miss California has the same last name as Sister Helen (no relation). Miss California, incidentally, feels it’s very important to provide scantily-clad photos of herself to the public in order to convert The Gays to heterosexuality before they try to get married. Or something like that. Like I said, I was just trying to make sure Adam hadn’t been voted off.

Honest mistake, right? Same last name, read the story, got a little chuckle out of my misinterpretation. Well, that’s not why I’m going to hell.

For the following day or two, I’d see the name in headlines, and every time I would first think of the nun, and then remind myself that it was the pageant contestant. And I chuckled and figured I couldn’t be the only person making this connection, right? So I decided to share the laugh! Of course! So I told Jeff, and he said, “huh!? Oh yeah. Funny.” Which was not particularly satisfying.

So of course I posted it to Twitter:
Shocked that Sister Helen Prejean (of Dead Man Walking fame) would take “racy photos.” Also, wouldn’t have pegged her as a pageant type.
Kind of funny, no? Not my very best tweet ever, but if anyone else had made the same mistake, maybe they’d laugh! I would have laughed if someone else had posted it. And even that probably wouldn’t have sent me straight to hell.

But then, just a few hours later, I got this reply:
playproject@Blythe – where did you see this about Sr. Helen?
And I clicked through to the Twitter account, and then to the website.

And yes, indeed, it’s an organization that works with Sister Helen to produce the play “Dead Man Walking” in schools and they thought I’d actually read somewhere that their heroine had been competing for a pageant title AND had released nudie photos to the media.

And I had to reply and tell them I’d been making a lame joke at a nun’s expense. And they were nice and gracious in their reply and now they’re following my updates. Either because they like my sense of humor or so they can monitor my tweets for more evidence that I’m defaming Sister Helen.

And that’s why I’m going to hell.

Oscar Pool 2009 P.S.

As requested, here’s a post-script to the Oscar pool results.

People who guessed all eight of the “major” award winners correctly:
Melanie
B.

(By major awards, I mean Picture, Director, Actor, Actress, Supporting Actor, Supporting Actress, Original Screenplay, Adapted Screenplay.)

Others who did a bang-up job:
Sandi-7
Kari-6
Hollie-6

14 people got five right
10 people got four right
5 people got three right
2 people got two right
1 person got one right

Most people were tripped up on Best Actor, which was widely predicted to go to Mickey Rourke, but we were all spared his chihuahua speech thanks (ostensibly) to Prop 8 protest votes and great acting by Sean Penn. (Personally, after seeing Frost/Nixon, I think Frank Langella should have gone home with the Oscar.) Best Director was apparently a tough prediction as well, although that might have been skewed by a Portland-heavy pool of entrants who have been rooting for Gus VanSant for all these years. Meryl Streep was the spoiler in Best Actress voting, especially from people who had low scores overall – I’m guessing that those of you who didn’t see many of the movies hedged your bets and (wisely, based on the odds) voted for her because she is, well, The Best Actor Ever. Best Supporting Actress was a tough call for many of you as well, probably because there was no real front-runner.

Thanks again for playing!