Tuesday, January 29, 2013

"ZOMG BEYONCE LIP SYNC SCANDAL!!!"


Sasha Weiss from The New Yorker wrote an article last week titled, Why We Care About Beyoncé. In her article she assess the reasons why the American public was simply shocked (!!!) that the diva would dare to give an unauthentic performance on the day of the Presidential Inauguration.

One reason Weiss gave was that juxtaposed with "the earnest idealism" of the event, Beyoncé's supposed fakery "implies some larger fakery at the heart of the entire enterprise."

But isn't the Inauguration, too, just a performance? "How else can we explain that it is through the recitation of scripted words in a ritual call-and-response that the President assumes his position of power?" Weiss asks.

The debate surrounding Beyoncé's performance speaks to America's obsession with "authenticity." Why is it such a scandal if Beyoncé played a scripted version of herself during a performance? Isn't that what all celebrities do? Isn't that what Obama did when he memorized his Inauguration lines?

Just yesterday I read a piece about the growing of trend of fake Facebook weddings. Fake. Weddings. What?? The Internet is just one of the many mediums, where people can and will blur the lines between reality and fantasy. Reality T.V. is another.

Applying these ideas to our journalism class, what does this mean for us when we review a performance? A movie? A book? How do we navigate the authentic and the unauthentic in our reviews? Does it really even matter?

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Documentary Review: The Queen of Versailles


Directed by Lauren Greenfield

Featuring David Siegel and Jacqueline Siegel

Running Time 100 minutes

When director Lauren Greenfield began her documentary “The Queen of Versailles,” in 2007, she intended to record the construction of the biggest home in America, funded by Westgate timeshare mogul David Siegel and his trophy wife, Jackie.

The first part of the film is flecked with absurd and impossible-to-relate-to images of the 90,000 square foot French-chateau-style Orlando mansion, affectionately nicknamed Versailles, where the couple and their eight children planned to host lavish balls, attend the theater, play baseball, and oh, live.

But when the housing crisis hit in 2008, the film took an unpredictable and humbling turn, transforming into a story that resonates with households across America. Greenfield brilliantly and candidly illustrates how no one, not even the one percent, is immune to the devastating effects of a national market crash.

The documentary presents Jackie, the 40-something former Miss Florida, as a shopaholic mom who’s lost touch with reality. She reigns over her children and pets from afar. Her live-in nannies take care of both. Despite her airy personality and R rated cleavage, Jackie’s loyalty to her husband, for richer or poorer, is endearing.

It’s also painfully tragic. To David, his wife is just like any other designer accessory he owns: beautiful, but replaceable. 31 years her senior, David regularly jokes he’ll trade in Jackie for two 20-year-olds.

One evening she asks her husband, “Why are you in a bad mood?” The camera catches Jackie peeking through the den door, like one of the kids.

“Maybe this month I won’t pay the electricity bill,” he responds, upset the front door was left open. “When they shut off the lights you’ll appreciate the electricity.” One of his daughters enters. David doesn't turn to her as she speaks.

The close ups of his haggard face and the long shots of a room flooded with unnecessary clutter, show that money presses on this self-made billionaire’s mind. Almost overnight, his American Dream turns into the American Nightmare as he watches his company crumble.

He lets 7,000 Westgate employees go and cuts his staff at home in two. David’s financial problems speak loudly to the harsh realities of America’s unemployed. 

Greenfield paints a sympathetic, though satirical portrait of a financially overextended family trying to stay afloat. Minus the limos and $17,000 Gucci crocodile boots, it’s a tale that speaks volumes to the American public.   



Sunday, January 20, 2013

Revised Movie Review: Django Unchained


Directed by Quentin Tarantino

Starring Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, Leonardo DiCaprio, Samuel L. Jackson

Running time 2 hours, 45 minutes

Rated R

Django Unchained, directed by Quentin Tarantino, is offensive, quixotic, and unforgivingly violent. At its heart lies a villain so despicable and greasy that recalling his leering, half-rotted smile sends chills up the spine. 

But while that eerie shiver symbolizes fear and contempt, it also reflects unrestrained delight.

Leonardo DiCaprio’s performance as Calvin Candie, a wealthy plantation owner who forces slaves to fight for sport, is deplorably delightful. He moves fluidly from charming host to vile slave hater.

One moment DiCaprio offers his guests dessert, the next he slams down his hand, crushing a crystal glass and spurting blood everywhere. (According to Variety, the blood is real and DiCaprio actually required stitches.)

Like DiCaprio, Samuel L. Jackson's performance as Stephen, a grumpy and sharp-tongued house slave, also leaves a lasting impression. His semi-crippled shuffle and sardonic expressions reveal more about his character than do his words.   

The film is set on the cusp of the U.S. Civil War and opens "somewhere in Texas." It tells the story of an unlikely business partnership between a well-to-do white bounty hunter named Dr. King Schultz (Waltz) and a quick-witted black slave called Django (Foxx).

Django Unchained offers a refreshing alternative to pre-Emancipation Proclamation scripts of white power. For once, the black guy is the hero and idealized for "killing white folks and getting paid for it." (Though the question begs to be asked, is this a white director’s story to tell?)

The guts and gore that have earned Tarantino his reputation are as explosive and goopy as ever. Handguns and rifles are the weapons of choice, yet hammers, whips, and flesh-eating dogs make appearances as well.  

Despite the serious subject, the script is sprinkled with unfiltered humor that is both uncomfortable and hilarious. A scene of silly banter among the KKK wagon raiders on the impracticality of masks with tiny eyeholes, for example, is side-splittingly funny. These comedic scenes, the zingy one-liners, and the eclectic soundtrack, make the 2 hour and 45 minute film move.

The sets are unassuming and the costumes are modest, except for Django's brilliant blue suit. The movie’s X factor is really the talented cast and crew, including cinematographer Robert Bridge Richardson. The magnified takes of beer foam and gun barrels give depth and breadth to everyday objects.

It’s no secret that Tarantino is a master of his craft. Django Unchained proves he’s done it again.

Friday, January 18, 2013

A Secret History of Women and Tattoo

Maud Wagner, tattooist, 1911.
The third edition of Margot Mifflin's book, Bodies of Subversion: A Secret History of Women and Tattoo,” was released on Tuesday. The book examines the history of female tattoo culture in the US which, surprisingly, dates back to 1851 when white Native American captives were inked by their captors. 

“Tattoos appeal to contemporary women both as emblems of empowerment in an era of feminist gains and as badges of self-determination at a time when controversies about abortion rights, date rape, and sexual harassment have made them think hard about who controls their bodies—and why,” Mifflin writes in her book's introduction.
The New Yorker's Maria Lokke points out in her slideshow that Mifflin's work and photos are particularly relevant as today marks the 40th anniversary of Roe v. Wade.

To view the Lokke's complete slideshow, click here.

Photograph from “Bodies of Subversion: A Secret History of Women and Tattoo,” by Margot Mifflin, published by PowerHouse Books.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Movie Review: Django Unchained

Directed by Quentin Tarantino

Starring Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, Leonardo DiCaprio, Samuel L. Jackson

Running time 2 hours, 45 minutes


Rated R


His latest film, Django Unchained, will offend some, amuse others, and once again prove that Quentin Tarantino is an over-the-top director who knows his craft exceedingly well.


Set on the cusp of the U.S. Civil War and opening "somewhere in Texas," Django Unchained tells the story of an unlikely business partnership between a well-to-do white bounty hunter named Dr. King Schultz (Waltz) and a quick-witted black slave called Django (Foxx).

The movie offers a refreshing alternative to pre-Emancipation Proclamation scripts of white power. For once, the black guy is the hero and idealized for "killing white folks and getting paid for it." 

Yet many aspects of the film are quixotic and predictable.      

The guts and gore viewers have come to expect from Tarantino are as explosive and goopy as ever. Handguns and rifles are the weapons of choice, yet hammers, whips, and flesh-eating dogs make appearances as well.  

The ending is also nothing revolutionary- the evil white miscreants are gruesomely killed, the damsel is saved, and the hero and his lover ride off together into the night.

The acting, however, is predictably excellent. Tarantino's reputation for creating particularly despicable villains (think Hans Landa from Inglorious Bastards) is met with vengeance. DiCaprio plays Calvin Candie, a greasy plantation owner, who moves fluidly from charming host to contemptible slave hater. 

One particularly powerful scene occurs at the dinner table when DiCaprio slams down his hand, crushing a crystal glass and spurting blood everywhere. (According to Variety, the blood is real and DiCaprio actually sliced open his hand.)  

Samuel L. Jackson's performance as Stephen, a grumpy and sharp-tongued house slave, also deserves accolade. His semi-crippled shuffle and sardonic expressions reveal more about his character than do his words.   

Despite the rather serious subject, the script is sprinkled with unfiltered humor that has some viewers chuckling uncomfortably and others giggling uncontrollably.

The silly banter among the KKK wagon raiders on the impracticality of masks with tiny eyeholes, for example, is side-splittingly funny. Without these comedic scenes, the zingy one-liners, and the eclectic soundtrack, the 2 hour and 45 minute movie would drag.

The sets are unassuming and the costumes are modest- except for Django's brilliant blue suit. The movie's X factor is the incredibly talented cast, both on screen and off.

Tarantino's films have a way of growing on the viewer long after the credits have ended. Django Unchained is no exception.