2011 Irwies

Oh snap! Ya’ll need to hide your kids, hide your wives, and hide your husbands because it’s time for the Third Annual Irwie Awards! (Sadly Antoine Dodson refused to attend the ceremony because he was upset at being nominated in the “guilty pleasure” category. The Irwie officials meant no disservice and wish Dodson nothing but the best of luck on his entrepreneurial career.) For those unfamiliar, the Irwie awards acknowledge those who have made an impact in popular culture over the past year in honor of the iconic Steve Irwin. Let’s get to the awards!

Honorary Gold Star Recipient: Brett Favre

Favre has put up with a lot this year—injuries, struggling team, further tainted public image—but no one deserves an A for effort more than Minnesota’s public enemy number one. At a time where many his age struggle to change the channel on their new digital televisions, Favre has entrusted technology with his most personal messages (and appendage). Though most members of his generation would be limited to faxing or snail mailing pictures of their genitalia, the elder statesman of the quarterback position successfully sent a picture message of little Brett using his mobile phone. I don’t know why he’s going through so much trouble to deny his feat; his generation could sorely use that success story.


Guilty Pleasure of the Year:

“Who Dat Girl” by Flo Rida featuring Akon

All the objectification of women makes me sick, but I can’t deny a catchy song. Plus, I’ve got to give Mr. Rida ups for being honest with his lyric “I imagine her topless.” Most artists wouldn’t go there. And before the music video descends into “generic party video” mode, it boasts a pretty creative set-up.


Man of the Year: This guy. Words cannot describe why. You must watch.


Disappointment of the Year: How Do You Know

It was tough coming to terms with a Max Weinberg-less Conan. It was also disheartening for a Potter fan like myself to see the most recent installment eclipsed by Tangled in the box office because of a certain British dime piece. I’ve got to give this one to How Do You Know, though. I was really looking forward to it. The film, especially Paul Rudd’s character, was bogged down by wooden, pretentious dialogue. Not only did the trailers contain the film’s best jokes, but they also exhibited better comic timing than the awkwardly edited motion picture. I haven’t seen Spanglish, but from what I can gather, this is Brooks’ second straight disappointment (because The Simpsons Movie doesn’t count).


Stone Cold Fox of the Year: Robyn

Robyn also wins the artist/human being of the year award as far as I’m concerned. Body Talk, a collection of the best tracks across the terrific three-part EP series, is the catchiest thing since post 9/11 xenophobia. Never before has an artist released so much music that I like in a single year. She’s also a ferocious performer. She has more stage presence in one of her cups (which she always fills, and has no need to supersize), than most people have in their entire bodies. She delivered a rendition of “Hyperballad” that nearly brought Björk to tears. She also brought the house down at the Nobel ceremony for the second time in three years (here’s the first time). And on top of all that, she is so unapologetically herself that one can’t help but see her for the fox she is.

The Streets on Fire

Mike Skinner insists that his final album as The Streets, Computers and Blues, will be "dark and futuristic" and though neither of the first two releases have displayed that, it looks promising. The first single "Going Through Hell" is a triumphantly rockin' good time. But I've been more impressed with the second song released.

You know how if you send a facebook relationship request your facebook will read "in a relationship" while the request is in limbo, even if it has not been agreed upon?Well Skinner turned that phenomenon into a really clever and catchy song called "OMG". Needless to say, I'm excited.

A Continuation on 'Ordinary People?'

I have continued to break ground on the topic I opened up yesterday so I will continue to post my thoughts in hopes of further revelations. In my last post, 'Ordinary People?' I spoke of being attracted to characters without defining that attraction. So I will attempt to work towards that definition.

I can comfortably state that a romantic comedy's success does not depend on having a crush on the characters. I have enjoyed several romantic comedies without those feelings. And the one character that I do harbor crush-like feelings for--Glee's Rachel Berry--did not have my best wishes as she neared her relationship with Finn Hudson.

However, I cannot recall enjoying a single romantic comedy without finding the primary characters likable. I can't recall ever thinking, "Those characters rub me the wrong way, but I really hope they get together. They could use each other." Even those who have earned my pity have done so with some kind of charm (Little Children, Me and You and Everyone We Know). Have you ever found yourself invested in a fictional romance between two unlikable characters?

Ordinary People?

I've seen a couple romcoms this holiday season: Morning Glory and How Do You Know. I found neither to be satisfactory. One of the reasons is that I found neither films' bumbling-yet-appealing character to be the latter. Rather than being awkwardly adorable, both Rachel McAdams and Paul Rudd were so obnoxiously grating that I was not able to feel for either of them. As a result, I had little to no interest in their stories.

I could not understand why their respective love interests were interested in them at all. Don't get me wrong, I don't think attractiveness necessitates elegance. I have been attracted by the quirks of others (and I hope that there are those who don't find my awkwardness to be completely repellent). Is it possible that the characters simply weren't my types? Were any of you loyal readers won over by the characters?

Neither film garnered many favorable reviews so I don't think the dissatisfaction was completely due to my taste in people. However, I'm left with the question: do the characters of a romantic comedy need to be attractive (in appearance, behavior, spirit, etc.) in order for the film to be a success? If so, that spells doom for any hope for diversity in the genre.

The goal of virtually all films is profit. This is accomplished by attracting the greatest possible audience. So it would follow that studios (unless supremely altruistic) would only pick up romcoms that featured characters congruent with modern notions of beauty and acceptability. It's not breaking news that most films feature beautiful, white, thin/muscular, heterosexual characters but I personally never factored personalities into that equation.

Perhaps there is a general "type" to win over movie goers or Oscar voters. If so, what incentive would producers have to feature any other type of character? Are we subjected to a parade of characters that not only look the same but embody similar essences? Which types of people and personalities are ignored by mainstream entertainment? Which people are ignored in reality as a result? These questions stem from a thought that I am far from articulating, let alone concluding, but I am fascinated by it. Any thoughts? Am I making sense?

My Semester at The Onion

So this past semester I interned with The Onion, writing for the Chicago A.V. Club. I got to write some neat stuff, so here is my semester in review.

Here’s the first piece I wrote. Only one of my sentences was spared by supervisor’s editing. Guess which one and you’ll win a hug from me!

Only my second month into my internship, The A.V. Club knew where to find a writer with some street cred for this one.

2010 was apparently a big year for creative burlesque shows in Chicago. I wrote pieces on Burlesque shows inspired by Pink Floyd and Super Mario Brothers.

I got to write about some really cool things that I never would have heard about. A charity Rock Band tournament and a restaurant masquerading for Halloween.

My supervisor told me to “have fun with this one.” I knew that meant, “you better make this one funny.” Guess what? She liked it! Hooray! Easily my favorite piece.

And on my very last day, I had the pleasure of writing about a tribute screening of one of the silliest men of all time.

Their was some pretty boring stuff in there too, but all in all I had a good experience.

Number One with a Dull-et

So just about every “Best Albums of the Year” list has Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy at number one and I don’t like it.

The album’s first single, “Power,” is really groovy. Whoop-da-dee-do. One good song. “Runaway” is one of the worst Kanye songs I have ever heard. I want to puke every time I hear it. Kanye’s lyrics are ridiculous. Normally I can get past his self-important spewing of hot air because he has such a good ear for what sounds good, but not this time.

I can already hear the dissenters asking, “But isn’t ‘Monster’ a great song?” No! It’s not even the best song with that title.

And I’m sick of all the credit he’s getting for “working” with Bon Iver. He’s just taking an artist that all white people like (what ethnicity are music critics?) and including several minimal contributions by him. Name dropping. Shooting fish in a barrel. Call it what you want, either way it’s uninspired.

Do you know why “Lost in the World” sounds good? Because “Woods“ is a great song. Kanye just threw some drums and rapping (that don’t even sound that cool) over it. It’s like a school cafeteria serving In N’ Out burgers for lunch. “Mom, lunch was awesome today! On my list of top 20 school lunches of the year, it was number 1!” Of course it was. It was great when that lumberjack-looking cafeteria worker from Wisconsin did it last year. Now some hot shot from Chicago decides to wrap those same burgers in shiny rapping and he’s being hailed as the greatest chef in the world.

I’m almost tempted to wish that Kanye would just write another “Jesus Walks”, but I know that he would just negate it’s refreshing message with another public display of narcissism.

You want to hear something that was gradually released throughout the year without a nauseating culmination? Check out Robyn’s Body Talk. I may be biased but I have never found so many toe-tappers on one album before.

How Emma Watson Ruined Harry Potter

In her Harry Potter fantasy saga, author J.K. Rowling describes the character Hermione Granger as bushy haired and bucktoothed. In fact, young Granger’s teeth are so fugly that after Draco Malfoy enlarges them as a prank (in Goblet of Fire, I believe), Hermione instructs the school nurse to shrink her teeth to a more normal size, rather than their hideous original appearance.

The casting director for the Harry Potter movie franchise apparently has never picked up one of the books because he or she cast the stunning Emma Watson as Hermione. Nearly all viewers have come to acknowledge Watson’s beauty, though the most perceptive were able to detect her sublimely good looks back in the Sorcerer’s Stone days. In the series’ finale, The Deathly Hallows, the romantic tensions have moved to the forefront of the drama, making Hermione’s miscasting a much more obvious distraction.

In The Deathly Hallows, Harry and Hermione journey through the countryside. Just the two of them. Two heterosexual seventeen year-olds of opposite sexes traveling alone in the woods (staying in the same tent no less) is just about the perfect hook-up scenario. The catch: Harry’s got a fiery redhead at home and Hermione’s jonesin’ for a Weasley of her own.

The Deathly Hallows Part 1 film attempts to play off this tension by inserting a scene of Harry and Hermione flirtatiously dancing with one another while the world around them goes to hell. I’m sure the intent of the scene was to get the audience to think about the characters' motives—especially in light of their respective ginger romances—but my mind was nowhere near that.

If I were reading the book I might have thought, “But aren’t they just friends?” But after an hour or so of watching Watson majestically glide across the screen, all I could think was, “Why wouldn’t Harry try to hit that?" Sure, Ginny’s blossoming into a fine young woman, but Harry’s got a bona fide ten in his own tent! I’m sure director David Yates wanted suspense, but what he got was an entire audience muttering, “It’s about time.” The only thing that took me by surprise was that I had been replaced by a short, spectacled British boy in the fantasy I have enjoyed for years.

I may not even bother to see Deathly Hallows Part 2. I may, instead, opt to imagine myself inserted in the nude make out scene with Hermione for two and a half hours. I would save ten dollars and be far more prepared should the situation ever arise in reality!