Sunday, February 10, 2008

No Country For There Will Be Bloods, Homeskillet

To begin with an aside, I think it's funny that the first Oscar telecast in many years in which I actually care about a large number of films in contention (There Will Be Blood, No Country for Old Men, Sweeney Todd, I'm Not There, Eastern Promises) (well, I guess five seems like a lot when they're hurtling toward the black hole of Middlebrowpalooza), will probably not even take place due to the writer's strike. Now how can I justify drinking 15 beers and eating four pounds of cheese dip on a school night?
But what I really want to complain about is the marketing for a movie I haven't seen: Juno. This Entertainment Weekly cover gets at the problem succinctly, while also providing more clear evidence that American journalism is advertising's handmaiden. Ignoring for now the horribly disingenuous cover pose ("What's up, niggas? I can say that because my adopted cousin is black. See how little I care about anything? I just walked down the street, all fucked up and shit, and ended up in a movie. Now it's making bank, muthafuckas! Didn't even try to act. I don't even give a fuck about sticking my hands entirely in my pockets or tying my shoes because I'm a sassy teen. What a ride.") This is not the fucking "little movie that did." If it was the little movie that did, you would not have been subjected to 12,000 multimedia promotional bombardments about it before it hit your local theater. (And it did hit your local theater, in wide, wide, wide distribution. It played rural Nebraska several weeks ago, according to my mother, even though No Country for Old Men is not playing until next week and There Will Be Blood is not scheduled to play at all.) Without making the slightest effort and without even purchasing cable TV, I've seen the trailer and several TV promos for this film (weeks before the film opened) more times than I've seen parts of my body. This film was directed by the son of a famous Hollywood director and has been the constant source of buzz since it hit the festival circuit, where it was promptly snapped up by a major studio with major distribution dollars. I try not to give my money to brazen liars, which is one of the many reasons why I haven't purchased a ticket to this "underdog" yet. At least buy me dinner before you donkey-punch me. Although I must admit, the trailer hits home. When I thought I was pregnant, I immediately shared the news with a wise-cracking convenience-store clerk. He later informed me that men could not get pregnant, and eventually became the star of an inferior remake of a fantastic British television show.

1 comment:

casualninja said...

Through some odd combination of awkward posturing and badly fitting jeans, that picture looks to me as though her lower half is on backwards... like her feet point behind her as she holds her front-ass. Am I insane?

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