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Showing posts from November, 2007

Full of It

I am thankful for the tree that stands outside my Westwood apartment complex.

It's a reminder of the authentic autumns I left behind on the East Coast. Its orange leaves have fallen onto our driveway like rose petals carefully strewn across the pathway, welcoming us home every night and sending us off into the unknowns of every smog-tinged morning.

It gives me hope that Los Angeles is capable of a real autumn during which layers can be worn, actual foliage can be enjoyed, and pumpkin scones can be eaten during morning commutes.

My first Thanksgiving in Los Angeles had been a depressing one. During the November of 2002 I had been a barista at Starbucks. It was around the corner from my Spanish-tiled one-bedroom on 7th Avenue in Venice. It was the first time in my 22 years that I had woken up in an empty house, to no delicious smells coming from the kitchen, no turkey roasting in the oven. I had to go to work. Scarfing down a bowl of Cheerios, I had caught ten minutes of the Macy's…


Southland Tales

It seems like I am the only person I know who had been heavily anticipating Richard Kelly's ambitious, apocalyptic follow-up to one of my favorite movies of all-time, Donnie Darko. This all-star epic has been so under-the-radar, I assume that a good number of you who read this are probably hearing about it now for the first time.

Blame the publicity nightmare of a reaction (the questionable casting!) that came out of Cannes...in 2006. Blame the writers strike; there's no sign of a press junket, and there are hardly any talk shows on which its stars can promote it. Blame the delay due to the constant retooling the young writer-director had to endure (remember, this was supposed to be in theaters over a year ago).

Whatever the obstacles, however many warning flags were raised to hail this as one cinematic hot mess, it's out now...and I frickin' loved it.

The nutshell: Dwayne Johnson plays a movie star with amnesia who teams up with a porn star (Sarah Michelle Gellar) an…

Invasion of the 80s Remakes

They're here.



Apparently Hollywood has moved on from Japanese ghosts and torture porn.

The next subgenre du jour? 80s horror remakes. Or as I like to call it, The Neverending Rape of My Childhood Memories.

New Line is about sign the guy who did the Texas Chainsaw redo to direct the re-imagining of Friday the 13th (Jason's back, and Camp Crystal Lake is open for business again). MGM has lined up a new Poltergeist (sans Craig T. Nelson and JoBeth Williams, but bet on that same crazy-scary clown doll). And the guys who wrote 2008's Prom Night (starring Brittany Snow) got chosen to pen the 21st-century version of The Stepfather starring Dylan Walsh (Nip/Tuck), Sela Ward and Gossip Girl's Penn Badgely.

Why won't I be surprised if I see a new Scream hitting theaters in 2010?

I don't think my eyes can roll back far enough.

H.P.M.

Writing the Wrong

Today is Day 5. Right now hundreds of picketers are clogging up Pico Boulevard at Fox Studios near my old neighborhood, making it the biggest gathering during the strike so far.

The drama (or lack thereof) continues.



Okay, we get it. Y'all hope it doesn't last too long either:



'Tis an interesting yet frustrating time. As the days go by, the more dire this looks. As one who wishes to someday be a part of this very union, I can't help but imagine myself lining up with the rest of them had I randomly sold a pilot a year ago and become another one of those "promising, new" showrunners for network television. But that is not the case, and already I have friends and acquaintances whose jobs have been compromised by the whole mess. I sympathize with my industry brethren, especially those in the production arena, and wish them well. I realize I am fortunate to still be able to function in this cocoon of an office. I just hope the fallout doesn't reach us too soon.

I…

Quarterlife

"A sad truth about my generation is that we were all geniuses in elementary school, but apparently the people who deal with us never got our transcripts because they don't seem to be aware of it."

So opens what promises to be a poignant new series coming soon - not to TV or cable - but to MySpace.

Premiering on November 11, quarterlife (that lowercased title just screams with irreverence and woe) follows the lives of several twentysomethings learning how to come to terms with a world that has no clear terms. Our cyber-savvy protaganist is Dylan, a vlogger who vents about those closest to her and stirs up drama among her circle of friends. Produced by the wonderteam of Marshall Herskovitz and Ed Zwick (poetic angstfest My So-Called Life), this new made-for-the-Web show features a refreshingly non-flashy cast (no CW model-actors here) and painfully real dialogue that manages to avoid being too whiny.

And who knows? With the current writers strike threatening to shut down all …

Christmas Comes Early

Another red carpet to walk...Corey and I attended the Fred Claus premiere in Hollywood over the weekend.

Check it out.