Oscars 2013

Three-peat!

That's out of the way...

Yes, I'm still excited about it. I'll have more later in the week, once I've processed everything.

D Essentials: Family Matters

I've got family on the brain. Makes sense since my school work is focused on learning and writing about my family. Between thinking about (and doing) the writing, reading, my full time job and other obligations (Mason's Road, two different community boards and two City committees), it's no wonder I've been a bit sleepless. You know what helps? Lists.

Instead of counting sheep, I make alphabetical lists (authors, actors, books) to quiet my mind. The last time I did this, I started with actors. Astaire, Bridges, Cooper, Day-Lewis...you get the idea. That got me thinking about acting families (or dynasties, depending on how you look at it). Then I started thinking about signature films for each family member. I know, how can this possibly help me sleep? It does. So here's a list of great film families and my favorite movie(s) from each member.

Note: There is nothing even remotely scientific or sanctioned by any Academy or Institute here. These are based on my personal (and occasionally cheesy) taste. Feel free to disagree with me.

Fonda
Henry Fonda
Yours, Mine and Ours. He's got ten kids, Lucille Ball is his love interest and she has eight kids. Comedy ensues!

On Golden Pond. "You're my knight in shining armor. Don't you forget it." Tears. Every time.
 
Jane Fonda:
Nine to Five. "Judy Bernly, please hold. Judy Bernly, please hold. This is Judy Bernly."

Peter Fonda:
Easy Rider. Badass. And he wrote it.

Bridget Fonda:
Singles. "Somewhere around 25, bizarre becomes immature." Oh, the 90s.

Bridges
Lloyd Bridges:  
Cousins. "You've got only one life to live. You can either make it chickenshit or chicken salad."

Airplane. "Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit amphetamines"

Beau Bridges:  
The Fabulous Baker Boys. Down on his luck, playing piano and sparring with his brother.

Jeff Bridges:
The Contender. The Dude plays the President.

The Last Unicorn. Watched it every time it was on TV. Come on, she's the LAST one!


Leigh/Curtis
Tony Curtis:
Some Like it Hot. Still can't decide if I like him better in lady drag or Cary Grant drag.

Janet Leigh:  
Bye, Bye Birdie. Because watching her dance with Dick Van Dyke is infinitely less scary than watching her get stabbed to death by Tony Perkins.

Jamie Lee Curtis:  
Amazing Grace & Chuck. I know you've never heard of it. It's an 80s movie about a kid who gives up baseball in order to stop the threat of nuclear was. Yes, really.
 
Garland/Minelli
Judy Garland:  
The Wizard of Oz. Was there ever any doubt on this one?

Vincente Minnelli:  
An American in Paris. Kelly, Caron, Gershwin, Paris. Perfect.

Liza Minnelli:  
Arthur. When she steals the tie from Bergdorf's and goes off on Chester the store detective? Brilliant.

I know I've got more of these in me. Favorite ensemble pieces, dynamic duos, bad movies I can't stop watching...suggestions are welcome. Making lists plus thinking about movies equals enough brain unscrambling to allow me to get back to the big project feeling somewhat relaxed.

Now...back to work! I've got a packet to finish!

Issue of Diminishing Return

I received the 2011 Vanity Fair Hollywood issue. Based on what I've seen in this magazine, I'm surprised Vanity Fair bothers to call it "The one and only Hollywood issue." I have purchased every Hollywood Issue since 1995. I've saved them all and still enjoy looking at them. I refer to this collection as "the archives." I'm sorry, but this is no Hollywood issue.

The Cover

From left: Jennifer Jason Leigh, Uma Thurman, Nicole Kidman, Patricia Arquette, Linda Fiorentino, Gwyneth Paltrow,
Sarah Jessica Parker, Julianne Moore, Angela Bassett, Sandra Bullock. Photo by Annie Leibovitz.

 

 

 

  

 

The cover of the first Vanity Fair Hollywood Issue (1995) featured a group of up-and-coming actresses  photographed against a white backdrop and referred to as the Class of 2000. Yes, Gwyneth is the only one fully dressed here, and that caused a stir, but VF hit the mark on calling these ladies actors on the rise. All of them have since been nominated and/or won the Golden Globe, Oscar, Emmy, Tony, Screen Actor's Guild and Independent Spirit Award. 

Vanity Fair continued to put rising stars (some rising higher than others) on the cover of the Hollywood issue until 2000, when it was time for a Master Class.

from left: Nicole Kidman, Catherine Deneuve, Gwyneth Paltrow, Meryl Streep,
Cate Blanchett, Vanessa Redgrave, Kate Winslet, Chloe Sevigny, Sophia Loren, Penelope Cruz. Photo by Annie Leibovitz.

It's a gorgeous cover and all but one of the four women who didn't have an Oscar at the time the photo was taken now have one. Chloe Sevigny, the pressure's on now.

This year's cover? It's fine.

A promising group of Young Hollywood stars looking glamorous in an old Hollywood way? Yep. The four most famous of the group under the masthead to get you looking and hopefully buying? Yes. A little skin showing in fold out panel two? Sure. Robert Duvall behind the bar? Wait. What? Why is Robert Duvall behind the bar? The "behind the scenes of the photo shoot" page reveals nothing. 

The Portfolio

Scarlett Johannson & Javier Bardem recreating a scene from Rear Window. Photo by Norman Jean Roy

Early Hollywood Issues feature portraits of everyone from George Burns to Johnny Depp, group shots of writers, directors, producers and a closing reunion shot, a tip of the hat to a classic film (To Kill a Mockingbird, American Graffiti, Fast Times at Ridgemont High). The 1995 spread includes Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis in full drag makeup reliving the Some Like it Hot days. Oh, speaking of hot:

Daniel Day-Lewis. Photo by Annie Leibovitz.

Yeah. I went there.


Follow up issues were a mixed bag, but there were still some standouts. The 2006 salute to film noir, entitled Killers Kill and Dead Men Die, and the 2008 tribute to Hitchcock with recreations of scenes from Psycho, North by Northwest and Rear Window.(see photo above) gave the photographers and actors a bit more room to play. In 2010, the scope was smaller and the focus was on collaborators, directors and actors. Penelope Cruz and Pedro Almodovar, Lee Daniels with Mo'Nique and Gabourey Sidibe. They were trying something new. This year, I feel like VF didn't try. The 2011 portfolio is much smaller. How small? The 1995 issue had thirty portraits. The 2011 issue has twelve. Twelve. You're telling me Vanity Fair couldn't find enough actors and filmmakers to fill an issue? If you're only going to focus on nominees, fine, but how about ALL of the nominees. The acting categories alone give you twenty people to photograph. Throw in the directors, producers and screenwriters and you easily clear thirty. Something to consider for the 2012 Hollywood Issue. 

Oh, and the picture of Christian Bale? Obviously from a red carpet event. Don't you have some of the best photographers in the world on the payroll? You couldn't get Christian Bale in a room with Annie Leibovitz or Bruce Weber? OK.  

Summer Session

This weekend I met Carl Kurlander, a screenwriter, director and producer. He wrote St. Elmo's Fire. Yes, that St. Elmo's Fire. He was in town promoting his documentary, My Tale of Two Cities: A Comeback Story. Nice guy. Good movie. I helped plan the premiere and post-screening discussion at the Criterion Cinemas. We had a small screening room, but it was packed, so I felt good about my role in the whole thing. After living in Hollywood for years, Carl packed up his wife and daughter and left Los Angeles to return to Pittsburgh and live "an authentic life." This is not to say that one cannot live an authentic life in LA (although I've never tried) but it might be a tough thing to do when you are in "the industry." The movie is about his journey home as well as Pittsburgh's journey from industrial giant to punchline to one of the most livable cities in America. Carl is funny, smart, talented, a little neurotic (aren't we all?) and really passionate about the work. Not the work of making movies, although I have no doubt that he is passionate about film making, the work of making a difference, which movies can do on occasion and this movie definitely did on this occasion. Carl's film resonated with everyone in that screening room on Friday night. The discussion lasted an hour and people lingered after that to talk to him about it. They weren't just asking questions, they were sharing their stories. That's pretty great. The Chief and I spent about two days with Carl, showing him around the Have, introducing him to people, talking up the movie, hearing stories about famous people...it was exhausting (but fun) for everyone.

I had a little one on one time with Carl on Saturday night after the final weekend screening. We had beers at Richters and talked about how the screening had gone. He asked me about my story, how I got here, etc. I told him about my family leaving Cuba, what my Dad had gone through to get us here, how I ended up in New Haven, all that stuff. He said I had a great story and asked if I ever considered writing a screenplay. That's right. The guy who wrote St. Elmo's Fire asked me if I had ever thought about writing a screenplay. Um, no, I hadn't considered it. But it's nice to be asked.

Super Sunday

Ever wonder what would happen if a comedian didn't host the Oscars? Me neither, but someone must have considered the possibility because it happened. And the results were...not bad! Let's recap, shall we?

Sparkle...Magic: In case you were wondering, the sparkly curtain at the front of the Kodak Theater? Swarovski crystals.

Nice to meet Hugh: Still a little on the fence about Hugh as host, don't know why. Maybe because he was so relaxed and seemed to genuinely be having a good time. I'm not accustomed to the host not having at least one moment where things go wrong and they to want to be swallowed whole by the stage or played off by Bill Conti (who, by the way, was not missed by ANYONE).

Close to Hugh: The big show felt a little smaller, a little more intimate. The orchestra was moved and the audience got to be a little closer to the action. The good news is some winners had a shorter walk to the stage. The bad news is everyone in the front row got to see a whole lotta Beyonce.

And the winners were: I may be in the minority, but I really loved the whole "welcome to the club" presentation of the acting categories and the montages introducing those segments. I know some people thought it was too much mush, but think about it, people...you're nominated for an Academy Award, it's the biggest night of your life and instead of having to watch that same clip of yourself (the one you have now seen at the SAGs, the Globes, the BAFTA's and the Spirits), Shirley MacLaine or Robert DeNiro or Eva Marie Saint or Alan Arkin walks out and talks about how awesome you were in your movie. How are you NOT thrilled? How do you NOT get emotional? And if your name happens to be called when that envelope is opened? BONUS!

His and Hers: Last year, Javier Bardem became the first Spaniard to win the Academy Award. His co-star (and lady love) Penelope Cruz is now the second Spaniard to win. For those of you who do not speak the Spanish: All of the loyal people of Spain, now they share this moment with me and feel that this (Oscar) is theirs also, so I dedicate to them. To all of the actors and actresses of my country, Thanks a lot.

Que Viva Espana!

Kate, so great: Sixth time is the charm for our girl Kate, the youngest person to be nominated that many times for an Oscar. This was totally worth the wait, if only for that sweet moment when she said, "Dad, whistle or something, 'cause then I'll know where you are." (He whistles.) "Yeah!" (Waving to him.) "I love you." My sister and I agreed that our dear dad would have done the same thing...and then he would have started sobbing.

Bonus: This is what it looks like when it really hits her backstage.

Milk Men: What a beautiful speech by Dustin Lance Black. Heartfelt, genuine, lovely. Well done, sir. Well done.

About that dress, briefly: Penelope Cruz in vintage Balmain Coutoure. AWESOME. Natalie Portman in Rodarte? SO Audrey. Taraji P. Henson in Roberto Cavalli? Amazing (and that necklace! Love it.) I could have done without the feathers on Nicole Kidman's dress, but she looked good. Diane Lane? Perfect and lovely, as usual. Anne Hathaway in Armani Prive? Sparkly and gorgeous! Sarah Jessica Parker in Dior Haute Couture? Only person who could get away with it. You know who couldn't get away with it? Jessica Biel in Prada. As my mother would say, "No goo." On a brighter, hotter note...

Let's hear it for the boys: Damn, the men looked good in their tuxedoes. They combed their hair, wore ties, some of them even shaved! Even Mickey Rourke, in his white Gaultier suit looked good for Mickey Rourke. My favorite? Craig, Daniel Craig. Damn.

Two words: Slumdog Millionaire. Eight Oscars. Effing Brilliant. Haven't gone? Go NOW.

Seeing Things

I went to see Ghost on Sunday with Heather. Yes, dead Patrick Swayze, teary Demi Moore, psychic Whoopi Goldberg Ghost from 1990. It may surprise you to know that it was nominated for an Oscar for, wait for it...BEST PICTURE. I know, crazy right? It still holds up almost twenty years later. Swayze and Demi look gorgeous, Tony Goldwyn is the perfect evil best friend and the story is engaging. The special effects are dated, but overall, not a bad flick for a Sunday morning. The mimosas probably helped.

In preparation for Oscar Sunday (aka My Superbowl) I've seen Ghost, Roman Holiday, Pat & Mike, Say Anything, the Age of Innocence, Gigi, and most of Funny Face. Heaven bless Robert Osbourne, TCM and their 31 Days of Oscar. I might have a crush on Osbourne. He's such a gentleman, with his white hair and classic clothes. It also helps that he has an encyclopedic knowledge of film. The man loves his job and I love him for it.

So, I'm watching Funny Face last night and I am struggling to believe that Audrey Hepburn would fall in love with Fred Astaire. Richard Avedon, sure (Astaire's character, Dick Avery, is loosely based on Avedon), but Astaire? Not buying it. I can buy her falling for Bogart and Holden in Sabrina, Peck in Roman Holiday, Gary Cooper in Love in the Afternoon and especially Cary Grant in Charade (who DIDN'T fall for Cary Grant in Charade?). I'm just not feeling Fred. It's not that he's too old, most of Audrey's leading men were considerably older. Maybe he's too smooth, aloof. I know, I'm biased. I'm a Gene Kelly person. Always have been, always will be. I can't help it. Astaire, is absolutely an icon in his white tie and tails, but give me Gene in a polo shirt, khakis and some loafers any day. Oh, what do I know? Judge for yourself and watch Fred and Gene rock it out in The Babbit and the Bromide.

Midnight Rambler

1. My earliest memory: Gene Kelly dancing in the fountain at the end of An American in Paris.
2. I wrote a fan letter to Gene Kelly when I was seventeen. A year later, I received an autographed photo. I have it framed in my office.
3. There is no simple answer to the question, “What’s your favorite movie?”
4. Movies I watch whenever they are on TV: To Kill a Mockingbird, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, Auntie Mame, The Philadelphia Story. Notice anything?
5. I love a good “wink,” in a movie. For example: In His Girl Friday, Cary Grant says, “Listen, the last man that said that to me was Archie Leach just a week before he cut his throat.” Cary Grant’s real name was Archie Leach. I think that’s fantastic.
6. The older I get, the more I dislike chick-flicks, especially ones that have been released in the last five years. I want to shake my fist at the screen and shout, “We are not all desperate for a husband! Some of us just want to have sex regularly with someone who is not a total jerk!” I’ve pretty much stopped going to those types of movies.
7. I have never walked out of a movie. Not even to go to the bathroom. Once I’m in, that’s it. I’ve made the commitment and am sticking with it.
8. Based on numbers 6 and 7, I have become more selective about which movies I see in the theater.
9. I own ten little black dresses. I can’t stop buying them. I like to fancy myself the Cuban Audrey Hepburn. I am delusional.
10. I try to be a lady, but I'm more of a broad. I love to swear (the F word is so versatile). I love a project where I can do some heavy lifting (although my back is not a fan of that). My best friend's parents call me Mighty Mouse...small but strong.
11. I like to think I'm good at bringing catch phrases into my friends' lexicon. Perhaps you have heard (or spoken) some of my work? There’s sweet cracker sandwich, that's SO Audrey, and batshit bananas. My most recent creation? Random Act of Hotness. I may also be responsible for bringing back "douche." Yeah. Sorry about that.
12. I used to eat ice cream for breakfast while watching Saturday morning cartoons.
13. My mom and I would watch Tarzan movies on Sundays after she got home from church. She thought Cheetah was a riot.
14. Sometimes when I am falling asleep, I hear the voices of deceased loved ones. I find it comforting and scary at the same time.
15. Years ago, my best friend’s family cat died. I was upset for her and when she told me it was OK, because he was 19, I said, “Rose Kennedy is 104 and she is still alive.” Rose Kennedy died a few days later. I have since “killed” Bruno Kirby, Estelle Getty and was an accomplice in the death of Luther Vandross. Ever since, whenever someone says, “Is so and so dead?” I know it’s only a matter of time.
16. I celebrated my twenty-first birthday in Dublin, Ireland. I sat outside the Norseman Pub and had a pint with my best friend. Best. Birthday. Ever.
17. I was a late bloomer and didn't have a boyfriend until I was twenty-one years old. In retrospect, I'm glad for the experience, but I should have waited a bit longer.
18. I fell in love at first sight when I was 22. It was across a crowded room. It didn’t last, but man, it was something. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
19. I still think of him.
20. I like to refer to that time before a summer storm, when it’s warm but blustery and the sky is getting dark, as “sexy weather.” Because it is.
21. It took me thirty-four years to realize that if I am reading a book and it’s not interesting to me, I don’t have to finish it. You have no idea how freeing that is for someone who studied literature.
22. Based on the kind of food I grew up eating (rice, beans, fried meat, fried plantains), my mother’s style of cooking (lard played a large role in most meals), and my father’s penchant for bringing a candy bar home for me every night, I’m truly amazed I didn’t grow up to weigh a thousand pounds.
23. When I feel like I’m losing control of my life (personally or professionally) the secret switch inside of me flips and I stop eating, sometimes for long stretches of time. The last time it got really bad was when my relationship ended. Yes, it's a disorder of the eating variety, and yes, I keep an eye on it.
24. If I could go back and change one day, it would be my first day of high school. It was epically bad, but not for the typical reasons.
25. I keep a list of encouraging things people have said or written to me over the years. It’s called Self-Esteem Check. It helps.
    
    
    
    

Golden Ticket

Is it just me, or did this year's Golden Globes seem a wee bit...meh? Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to have them back. Last year's press conference was depressing and downright unwatchable, but really, this year's just seemed long. Take the following comments as highlights or lowlights (and take them with a grain of salt, these are only the opinions of one avid viewer). Your choice.

Kate for the win: Kate Winslet might be the actress of her generation. She's got the range, the chops and whatever else it takes to make everything she's in better for her presence (Sense and Sensibility, Finding Neverland, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Iris, etc, etc.) Not to mention that she is well-spoken, smart, funny and seems to be a genuinely lovely person. Thank goodness someone finally recognized her for it. Not once, but twice! Good job, Hollywood Foreign Press Association. Let's hope this is a sign of more shiny objects being handed to her in the near future, like, oh, I don't know...an OSCAR. She's been nominated for an Academy Award five times, which is very impressive, especially considering that she is a mere thirty-three years old. Oh, and she has manages to look flawless every time she hits the red carpet. Some people are not as fortunate. For example...

You OK, Renee?: I refuse to believe that Zellweger was wearing Carolina Herrera last night. The bottom is classic Herrera, but the top (if you want to call it that)? So wrong. I know that I have said before that Renee should take a fashion risk from time to time, but this is not what I meant. She looked a little Sharon Stone on a bad day to me.

Someone call the Police: Dear Sting, what the hell happened? You know I have loved you since I was ten years old. You know that you can do no wrong in my book. You know I still think you're totally hot. But if you ever, EVER, show up at an awards show looking like that again, well, I just don't know what I'll do. That look may work on Colin Farrell, but even he's cleaned up his act. You are a Commander of the British Empire now, buddy, show your Queen a little respect and button your shirt.

Bed head: Um, were people getting frisky in the limos on the way over? I'm only asking because I saw a lot of people with seriously mussed hair. Not the Gisele Bundchen beachy waves, mind you...Messed. Up. Hair. Cameron Diaz, Amy Adams, Vanessa Hudgens, Blake Lively all looked a bit wind blown as Miss Clairee would say in Steel Magnolias. Only Mickey Rourke and Drew Barrymore appeared to have crazy hair that seemed intentional.

Demi, De-Mom: I love that Demi Moore called her daughter Rumer out for slouching. No one wants to see Miss Golden Globe all hunched over like she's so over the whole thing. This is Hollywood's biggest party, and you are wearing a very expensive gown, so the least you can do is stand up straight. It's about time someone told those It girls to how to present themselves. At least Demi opened with a compliment.

Who wants to be a Millionaire: So happy for Danny Boyle and everyone involved with Slumdog Millionaire! If you haven't seen this one yet, go now. And stay for the closing credits!

I'm Latin, let's party: The President of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association spared us all the long speech about how the awards work and opted to encourage everyone in the room to have a good time. Another reason to love my people.

OK, I do like him: Colin Farrell won me over last night with his sweet speech. I have never been a fan of the guy, but he just seemed so genuine, so moved by his win...fine, he's adorable. There. I said it.

No, you can't: That's my answer to Steven Spielberg's eternal film making question. To be clear, a little boy finds and befriends an alien? Yes. Richard Dreyfuss sculpting mashed potatoes and then being swept away by aliens? Yes. An island of dinosaurs? Yes. Whatever the hell is going on in Minority Report? Yes. The ending of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of Crystal Skull? No. The man is indeed one of the greatest film makers of all time, but I will not give that last one a pass.

Oh, shit, I forgot to hit the seven second delay button: Darren Aronofsky giving the finger to the world (OK, just to Mickey Rourke, but the world saw it). That moment is now up there with Bono dropping an F-bomb on the Globes a few years back. It's that sort of unpredictability that makes this show worth sitting through. But it would have been nice if someone's name had been called while they were in the bathroom.

Another View

I went to see the Curious Case of Benjamin Button tonight. It was good in that escapist, get out of the house for three hours kind of way (yes, it was three hours long and although it didn't feel like it was long to me, I recommend you use the bathroom before you commit to it). It is also one of those movies that I will put on the "I saw it on the big screen and will probably never watch it when it's on TV" list. Titanic, The Talented Mr. Ripley and The English Patient are all on that list too.

The thing that got me about the movie was Cate Blanchett. Granted, she is always luminous, always perfect. The woman played Katharine Hepburn for crying out loud. I would watch her read the back of a cereal box. But there was more. There was an aspect to her character that was, how do I say this without sounding like an ass? Me. Let me clarify. There's the obvious bit about her character being called Daisy. But then, she's a dancer...like I once dreamed of being. And then, she teaches dance at her own studio...like I once dreamed I would. It was weird. There's a lot of other things that happen that I won't give away, and obviously the Brad Pitt factor is not something I expect in my life (I'm more of a Daniel Day Lewis/Javier Bardem kind of girl). But...still. What are the chances? What are the chances that I would go to a movie on a whim and see a portrayal of someone with my name doing the things I dreamed of doing as a child? It made me think about what my life would have been like had I been able to pursue those dreams. Just seeing it on screen made me wonder "what if?"

Curious indeed.

Screen Gems

Best thing to happen all week: I went to the Criterion on Sunday morning with friends to see the Movies and Mimosas feature (that's a classic film shown on the big screen for a mere five dollars. Two more dollars will get you a tasty mimosa). This is one of my favorite things about living here. How many people my age get to say that they saw Casablanca for the first time on the big screen? Not many. If you're looking for me on a Sunday morning, start at the movie theater. This week was extra special. One word: Travolta. Two more: Newton-John. Yep, they showed Grease. And it's as good as I remembered.

Grease is not only the word, it's the first movie I ever saw in a theater. I was six years old (give or take, the movie opened three days before my sixth birthday) and my sister took me to the Mayfair Theater on sixty-fourth and Park Avenue to see it. It was love, instant perfect love the minute I saw Danny and Sandy frolicking on the beach. I'm pretty sure I saw it at least once more in the theater before that summer was over. And then...someone gave me the album. Remember that album? Sandy and Danny in an embrace on the cover, with Olivia's awesome hair rivaled only by Travolta's sideburns and cleft chin.
The pencil's a nice touch, don't you think? Gives it that yearbook feel.

The soundtrack was a double album (four sides of music!)and featured big hits like Sandy and Hopelessly Devoted to You, as well as songs played during the big dance (Those Magic Changes, Tears on My Pillow...anyone?). As if that weren't enough, the album jacket opened to reveal stills from the movie. I wore that thing out, as I'm sure most kids did. I know you know all the words to Rizzo's big solo, There are Worse Things I Could Do, no need to be ashamed. Do you think Stockard Channing was ashamed to be playing a possibly pregnant high school senior at the tender age of thirty-four? No sir, she was not!

That summer and for many months to follow, my friends and I would spend our afternoons acting out all of the big numbers (Summer Nights, We Go Together, Greased Lightnin). We'd take turns being Sandy. You always wanted to be Sandy. She was so pretty and sweet and she had that cool accent...then she got that tramp makeover (she had to be sewn into those pants) and you wanted to be her even more! By the way, there's an entire generation of us who grew up singing the dirtiest lyrics this side of an R. Kelly song. Seriously. Greased Lightnin? Filthy. But it does have a good beat and you can certainly dance to it (I dare you to listen to that song and not do the signature move. Impossible). What did we know? We were kids. Innocent children singing songs from our favorite movie. A movie that referenced teen pregnancy, underage drinking and stealing car parts to soup up your sin wagon so that you could bang the foreign exchange student you met over the summer. Ah, the Seventies!

Next up at M&M is Breakfast at Tiffany's, starring Audrey Hepburn as a call girl (she gets fifty dollars to go to the powder room) and George Peppard as the kept man she falls in love with in spite of herself. Did I mention she does all wearing clothes by Givenchy. If that doesn't take care of the mean reds I've been experiencing lately, I don't know what will.

I'd Like To Thank The Academy

Sorry for the delay on this one, I've been burning my candle at both ends and am now paying for it with another cold...OK, it's the flu. Let's get to it, shall we?

Welcome to the make up sex: I was really nervous that the big show was not going to happen or that it would be another glitz-less press conference. Or worse, the show would go on without writers. That would have been, to use a technical term, a sh*t show. Jon Stewart did a good job of staying on top of things, keeping things moving and reacting with the class I've come to expect from him (you know, like noting that Jack Nicholson being the room could mean more women end up pregnant by show's end). Not an easy job for someone standing in the shadow of Carson, Hope and Crystal.

Montage me: The first montage, introduced by the Cloon, totally got me, especially the part with all those mega-stars tearing up. Here it is. You know what else was good? The montages that led into the major awards (acting, directing and picture). I'm a sucker for sentimentality and the Academy clearly recognizes that there's nothing like punching a sucker like me with a barrage of images designed to pull at my heart strings. Oh, and please note: the Oscar moment between Rob Lowe and Snow White, the one I know all of you don't believe happened? It's in there. And it's still a little horrifying.

My favorite mama's boy: OK, we knew Javier Bardem was hot (in spite of the haircut), but can you believe how sweet he is? A good Spanish boy always thanks his mother...in Spanish! Here's the translation, in case you missed it.

Mama, this is for you. This is for your grandparents, for your parents Rafael and Matilde. This is for the comic artists of Spain who have brought dignity and pride to our work. This is for Spain. And this is for all of you.

Yeah, that totally made me cry.

Eye Candy: That might have been the hottest collection of Best Actor nominees ever. Clooney, Day-Lewis, Depp, Mortensen and Jones? Yes, even Tommy Lee Jones has a rugged hotness to him. He's no Hal Holbrook, but still. Throw Javier Bardem into the mix (the hottest Spaniard since Antonio Banderas) while you're at it and all those other fine fellows hanging around the Kodak Theater. Is it any wonder they were all kissing each other? Cat said it best when Josh Brolin and James McAvoy took the stage: "Double yum"

Once in a lifetime moment: As I said in my Critic's Choice recap, I loved the movie Once, so I was super excited to see Glenn Hansgard and Marketa Irglova beat the Disney juggernaut (really Academy, three for Enchanted? Three for Enchanted and none for Into the Wild? Wow). Even better, Jon Stewart, classy guy that he is, brought Marketa back out to give her acceptance speech after that damn Bill Conti played her off before she could say anything. Do you think there's a gang of disgruntled Oscar winners somewhere waiting to catch Conti in a dark alley without his Academy Orchestra for back-up? I wouldn't be surprised.

Speaking of speeches: Good speeches all around, yes? Kudos to Tilda Swinton for being gracious and humble first, then going in for a kill on the Cloon at the end of her speech:

And Sydney Pollack, and George Clooney, you know, the seriousness and the dedication to your art, seeing you climb into that rubber bat suit from "Batman & Robin," the one with the nipples, every morning under your costume, on the set, off the set, hanging upside-down at lunch, you rock, man.

My guess is it takes a lot to make Clooney blush, but damn if she didn't get him. Payback for every prank he pulled on the set. Nice.

You know who else was amazing? Marion Cotillard. She was so genuinely overcome with emotion, good thing she had Forrest Whitaker to hang on to when she got up there. And yet, such a lovely speech once she pulled herself together. Again, tears. If you haven't seen La Vie En Rose, please do so immediately. She earned that Oscar but good.

One for the history books: Please keep in mind that Oscar facts are to my brain what baseball stats are to my friend Davis. It's all just in there, processing away, waiting for the moment at Liffey's trivia when I can use bits of information to prove my worth as a team member. this was a pretty good year for keeping track of things. Ready?

• This was the first time since 1964 that all four acting awards went to Europeans.
• Javier Bardem is the first Spaniard to ever win an Oscar (he was also nominated in 2000 for the film Before Night Falls, playing a Cuban. Yes, I love him more.)
• Marion Cotllard is the second actress to win Best Actress for playing a non-English speaking role (Sophia Loren was the first). She's also the second French woman (Simone Sigornet came before her)
  
• Daniel Day-Lewis is one of only eight actors in Academy history to win Best Actor twice (he is now in the company of Marlon Brando, Spencer Tracy, Dustin Hoffman, Gary Cooper, Tom Hanks, Jack Nicholson and Frederick March)
• The Coen brothers are only the second team to win for directing (Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins won for West Side Story)
  

There's probably a ton more ( like the one about the guy who has yet to win after being nominated nineteen times), but that's probably more than enough for you right now.

And then, there's this: I swear, for a hot second I thought they were going to call someone else's name. Not that I doubted the performance, but I know how unpredictable the Academy can be. You think your guy's got a lock on something and then BAM! They call somebody else. I would have been happy with any of those other fine gentlemen being called to the stage, but this is what made me happiest. (photo: getty images)

And, who are you wearing?: I would write about the clothes, but honestly...YAWN. Everyone looked good, but no one blew my doors off. The usual suspects showed up in the usual designers (Zellweger in Herrera, Kidman in Balenciaga, Diaz in Dior) and they all looked nice, but these are the women who used to raise the bar. You watched to see what they would be wearing. What the hell happened? Where's the Nicole Kidman of the Asian-influenced poison green Dior or the controversial lilac Prada? Where have you gone, Renee Z ,in your lemon yellow vintage Jean Desses? Remember? I do. That was your big moment. I know people change and style evolves, but please, please don't become complacent. Even Audrey mixed in a little Valentino, Mary Quant and Ralph Lauren from time to time. Your fashion moments aren't over! You're still relevant! You're still icons! Call Proenza Schuler or Donatella Versace or Zac Posen...hell, call the boys at Heatherette, I don't care. Don't be mad. I love you, you're perfect, now change. See, I told you I didn't have a lot to say about the clothes.

Overall, a good showing, except...Here's what I missed about this year's spectacle, but am willing to forgive the Academy for not including it because it would have made the show four hours longer:

Round up the usual suspects: Every time the Oscars reaches a milestone (an anniversary ending in a zero or a five), the producers like to have a "class photo" reunion moment. Every living Oscar winner (acting categories only) is invited to the show and trotted out on stage. I thought we were in for one when I saw Mickey Rooney on the red carpet, but no! He only has an honorary Oscar. I should have known something was up when I didn't see Ernie and Tovah Borgnine.

One final thought: Gary Busey? On the red carpet? At the Oscars?: Poor Jennifer Garner! Where the hell was that husband of hers? Thank goodness for Laura Linney! In case you missed the craziest moment on the red carpet since they banned Isaac Mizrahi, Kathy Griffin and Joan Rivers, click here.

There Will Be A Recap

I'm very excited, too excited to write a full recap right now. I am thrilled that everyone I was pulling for did win and that the evening was full of funny, sweet and truly touching speeches. Stay tuned for my full report later in the week. Until then, let's hear it for my boys!

Sick & Tired

In the literal sense, of course. I have whatever is going around. You know the sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy-head, fever thing, minus the fever (I'm not going to count 98.9 as a fever). My body pretty much succumbed to the running around, taking trains, being up late, eating and drinking too much that was my holiday break without a break. Being that busy had to come back and bite in me the ass somehow.

I just finished watching the Critics Choice Awards on VH1, the first in what I hope and pray will be a long and fruitful awards season, though right now it might just be wishful thinking. The Golden Globes have already been transformed from the "party of the year" to a press conference and that makes me really sad and scared that if this thing isn't settled soon, the 80th Annual Academy Awards may not happen. I support the writers, I really do, and I hope that the strike ends soon. We wouldn't have any awards to give out if it weren't for the writers doing what they do, so as the Cloon said tonight, "When the strike happens, it's not just writers [affected]," "Our hope is that all the players will lock themselves in a room and not come out until they finish. We want this to be done. That's the most important thing." Well said, George. I'm starting to realize that there is only so much "reality" television a girl can watch.

On a brighter note I do have some highlights from tonight's show:

Nikki has two Mommies: Hairspray's Nikki Blonsky's genuine excitement upon winning her award and then thanking "my mommy who's sitting here crying and my other mommy who's at home, John Travolta." That's going to be the sound bite of the night.

Blame it on her effing nerves: Leslie Mann getting bleeped when she said "Before I walked out here my husband said 'Daniel Day-Lewis is out there' and I said 'Great now I'm f&*^ing nervous.'" But the censors didn't move fast enough to bleep her when she said "Can you say f&*^ing on cable TV?" Classic.

Trifecta: (1) George Clooney, Javier Bardem AND Daniel Day-Lewis all in the same room, beautifully dressed and groomed. (2) Javier and Daniel won in their respective categories. (3) All three gentlemen were not only handsome, they were eloquent and funny at the mic! I could stand to see more of this, so let's hope for the best.

Dark horse for the win: Falling Slowly, from the movie Once winning the award for best original song. Great song, great movie. I know I am one of a handful of people who saw this movie, but I encourage you all to rent it. It's small, made on the cheap in something like seventeen days and has no big name stars in it, but damn, I really loved it.

You've got a point there, Ed: Eddie Izzard's introduction of the nominees for documentary film "Okey dokey from WGA came during teatime, so some speechy talk not so good as other mans," he said. "This was wrote in toilet, so only first draft and a bit la-la." A reminder that we need the writers to come back soon. Do you think that if an American had read that it would have come across as endearing? No, people would have said that person was on drugs or drunk. An Englishman does it and it's adorable. That's just how it is. Sort of the Hugh Grant effect.

A quick word on the fashions: Everyone looked great and that makes me happy. This wasn't the kind of show where I expected to see a train wreck, but you never know. Katie Holmes looked downright fierce in her (I'm assuming here) Armani dress. Good hair, makeup and shoes all around. Kudos to you celebs and your stylists for the effort. One note, though. Allison Janney: I love you in every movie and you were my favorite thing about the West Wing. The dress you had on tonight was beautiful, your kicky new haircut was...kicky. But why, WHY were you wearing flat shoes. They were nice flat shoes, but still, why? I know you're probably six feet tall in heels, but you usually OWN it and you should continue to do so. Hell, Katie Holmes wears heels all the time and, well, you know who she stands next to all day long. If it's because you are injured in some way (back issues, bunion surgery, messed up knee), then I completely understand. Otherwise, embrace the fact that you are statuesque. Girls like me would do anything to be as tall as you are. Thanks!

I'm off to bed, visions of a tuxedoed George, Javier and Daniel dancing in my head.

If you believe…

There’s a lot to be said for unpacking Christmas ornaments by yourself when you’re slightly exhausted and Do They Know It’s Christmas (Feed the World) is playing on the radio. It's a cocktail for tears. To be honest, I was fine until I found the stockings. But, then I pulled out the stockings. I eventually got myself together, blew my nose, hung the wreaths, put out Yukon Cornelius and Hermie (I know you thought it was Herbie, but it’s actually Hermie who wants to be a dentist) and started on my cards while watching back-to-back episodes of Designing Women (I admit to being a fan of Julia Sugarbaker…who isn’t?). I’m not quite full of the holiday spirit, but I’m sure I’ll get there. You know what helps? Maureen O’Hara and Edmund Gwenn.

I watched Miracle on 34^th Street on Sunday. It's so freaking good. Not familiar? First of all, for shame! And secondly, here’s the IMDB synopsis: When a nice old man who claims to be Santa Claus is institutionalized as insane, a young lawyer decides to defend him by arguing in court that he is the real thing. How can that NOT be great, right? I think this is Natalie Wood’s first film and she’s just fantastic. The whole cast is spot on, and the overall message is good and Christmasy. “Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to. Don't you see? It's not just Kris that's on trial, it's everything he stands for. It's kindness and joy and love and all the other intangibles.” That’s what Fred Gailey says to Doris Walker before he walks out on her for not believing in him and in Santa. It helps that Fred Gailey is totally hot in that 1940s pipe-smoking, fedora-wearing, sensitive lawyer with a heart of gold kind of way.

By the way, I’m the dork you hear sniffling in the theater when Santa starts speaking to the little Dutch orphan girl in…wait for it…Dutch! Her adoptive mother is all, “I told her you wouldn’t be able to talk to her, but she insisted on seeing you, and she’s been through so much…” and then, BAM! Kris Kringle speaks Dutch. I cry. Every. Single. Time. How can you not? It’s the classic example of finding that one other person who gets you. That’s what we all want. To connect and be understood and not feel isolated. And if you can't feel that way at Christmas, well what's the point?

Boy Story

You know that line in As Good As It Gets? Helen Hunt says "Why can't I have a normal boyfriend? Just a regular boyfriend, one that doesn't go nuts on me!" and her mom says "Everybody wants that, dear. It doesn't exist. " Women nod and smile when they hear this line because, in a way, it's true. It doesn't exist, except in the movies.

OK, clarification: Plenty of people have normal boyfriends. Lots of my friends have normal boyfriends and husbands. My point is that in the movies, boyfriends/husbands are either wack job serial killers, wisecracking sidekicks or so incredibly perfect that they ruin it for all the perfectly sweet, somewhat normal men out there. You know, the way Halle Berry and Jessica Alba have ruined it for so many of us perfectly nice, somewhat normal women. I've been thinking about this a lot because I spent Saturday night with one of these incredibly perfect men. His name is Lloyd Dobler. Yes, that Lloyd Dobler. Trench coat wearing, kickboxing (sport of the future), boom box blasting Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes to win back the girl he loves Lloyd Dobler of Say Anything . OK, maybe you don't think Lloyd is perfect. He's a character in a movie, so he's not even real. But think about it for a minute. Think about all the little things he does. He writes her a letter after they make love for the first time and all it says is "Dear Diane. I'll always be there for you. All the love in my heart, Lloyd." Simple. Perfect. The kind of letter we all dream of receiving. And guess what. Even after she gives him the pen, he's still there for her. (If you haven't seen this movie and have no idea what I'm talking about, go watch it right NOW, if only to see Eric Stolz in a chicken suit). Basically, John Cusack in this movie ruins it for every normal guy out there.

You know who ruins it more? Jake Ryan. Fair-Isle sweater vest wearing, Porche driving, undies retrieving Jake Ryan. Jake Ryan who leaves the Carolyn none of us could have ever been in high school for the Samantha we all were and probably still are. How bad do women have it for Jake Ryan? There's a whole Washington Post article about it. Seriously. There's even an "I heart Jake Ryan" t-shirt. I have one. I wear it proudly. But only around the house. Ever since I wore it out once and the kid (OK, he was 25) at the pizza place asked "Who's Jake Ryan?" I haven't had the strength to wear it out.

OK, so while those are probably the top two culprits, there are plenty more where those came from in the movies. It just depends on your taste. Here are some other "ruiners" I could watch all night long (in no particular order).

Don Lockwood (Gene Kelly), Singing in the Rain: We should all be so in love we dance in a downpour.

Paul Varjak (George Peppard), Breakfast at Tiffany's: Another guy who looks great standing in a downpour. Also, he's a writer and he's beautiful.

Atticus Finch (Gregory Peck), To Kill a Mockingbird: A good father, a good lawyer, a great man.

CK Dexter Haven (Cary Grant), The Philadelphia Story: It takes a real man to create an elaborate ruse just to win his girl back.

Macauly "Mike" Conner (Jimmy Stewart), The Philadelphia Story: How did Katharine Hepburn ever choose?

Crash Davis (Kevin Costner), Bull Durham: "I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days." Me too! What a coincidence!

I could go on here. I didn't even mention Day-Lewis and Clooney (if you know my track record, you know it goes without saying). Is it unrealistic? Totally. Do I care? Not so much these days. Nope. You know the song Where the Boys Are? For me, the boys are on Turner Classic Movies, American Movie Classics, and about seven other movie channels. And that's as good as it gets.

What a Glorious Feeling!

Can't sleep. I had a late dinner (mistake), washed it down with a Coke (bigger mistake) and then watched Singin in the Rain in its entirety (and the opening number of On the Town). So, I guess that is my equivalent of being hopped up on goofball.

I don't even know how many times I've seen this movie, but it still gets me. The singing, the dancing, an 18-year-old Debbie Reynolds holding her own with Kelly and O'Connor, a young, nearly unrecognizable Rita Moreno as Zelda (she has Cuban red hair in this one), Cyd Charise of the endless legs and scowling puss, the snappy patter between supporting players:

Lina Lamont: Gee, this wig weighs a ton! What dope'd wear a thing like this?
Rosco: Everybody used to wear them, Lina.
Lina Lamont: Well, then everybody was a dope.

Yes, I love it all. But mostly, like everyone else, I love the moment. You know, the moment when it's raining and Gene's singing. Like Leonard Bernstein said, "that's an affirmation of life." Tonight at the end of the number, when he's strolling away, all swagger and style, I got a little choked up. Maybe because it reminded me of how sweet life can be, or maybe because it took away the sting of a somewhat crappy day. Whatever it was, it came along at just the right time. I guess I'm just a sucker for a man in a rapidly shrinking grey wool suit singing his heart out because he's so in love. Who isn't?

Click here to enjoy the moment and try not to smile. You feel awesome now, right? I knew it. Gene Kelly totally had powers and he used them for good. Lucky us.

Global Morning

What is up with the Golden Globes? Gone are the days of people winning awards while they are in the ladies room (Christine Lahti, 1998), winners giving up their awards to the old guard (Ving Rhames giving Jack Lemmon his Globe, 1998) and people acting all, oh I don't know, happy to be there (yes Angelina, I'm talking to you). When the woman who once jumped into the pool (wearing this Randolph Duke number, no less) at the Beverly Hilton to celebrate her win (1998 again, damn that was a good year) can't crack a smile, despite the fact that she is practically married to Brad Pitt, we got troubles people.

Ok, so I don't have too much to say (yeah, right), but I do want to hit some points of interest here:

Not enough of the Cloon for my taste. In fact, it was barely a taste. He came out, gave Jennifer Hudson an award and then, poof, he was gone. Didn't even see him on the red carpet. Um, yeah, not pleased. I was able to tell, however, that his hair looked awesome. So handsome, he is. Well, that's out of the way.

You know what's nice about the Globes? No host. It just flows without someone onstage to guide things along. No 17-minute monologue that hits and misses, no weird jokes to fill the time, no awkward laughter and reaction shots. People just walk out on their cue, do their thing and move on to the next thing. Also, no musical numbers! The only constant we see on the stage is Miss Golden Globe (Jack Nicholson's daughter, Lorraine). I think that's nice. Let the celebs loose, don't have another celeb try to wrangle them, let them roam free! Free range celebs! I like it.

As far as speeches go, thank God (or is it thank Britain?) for Hugh Laurie and Sascha Baron Cohen and their strange senses of humour. I thought Forrest Whitaker was going to pass out, but he recovered nicely in the end. Alec Baldwin was random, but in a good way (thanks for sharing about the hernia!). I feared that Kyra Sedgewick was going to forget Kevin Bacon, but how could anyone forget Kevin Bacon? Meryl Streep continues to win me over with her wacky ways. I guess when you are considered the greatest actress of your generation, have 13 Oscar nominations (more than Kate Hepburn even!) and TWENTY ONE Golden Globes under your belt, you can be as goofy as you want to be when you win, but always in the best of taste. Jennifer Hudson and America Ferrara had me close to tears and Helen Mirren is, well, she's a classy dame who forgot to thank her husband, director Taylor Hackford, BOTH times. I'm sure he's fine with it.

Dear Tom Hanks: What in the hell were you talking about? I didn't know you even knew Warren Beatty, much less were so buddy-buddy that you could present him with the Cecil B DeMille Award. Yes, your speech had some high points and you took some risks. Ballsy risks. And by balls I mean "artistic vision." Obviously Rita wasn't there to keep you in line. You know who might have been a more appropriate person to do this tribute. Warren Beatty's sister. She's an actress too, you know. I think her name is, oh what is it? Oh yeah, I remember. It's SHIRLEY MACLAINE. Where the hell was she? She would have kept all those boys in line, for sure. Would have ripped those sunglasses right off of Nicholson's face and told him to "Grow up, that's your daughter up there!" Come on, people!

OK, I have to talk about the clothes. While some people have recovered nicely from previous awards fashion debacles (well played, Naomi Watts, you're almost there! don't give up, keep taking tips from Nicole), some people continue to leave me baffled as to why they are considered fashion icons (Sienna Miller, I'm sorry, I just don't get it and I don't know if I ever will. I will say this: that dress, though not my fave, is probably the best thing I have ever seen you in. Ever). And then, of course, you have the people who are consistently wonderful and make you happy to see them. May I present Exhibits Armani, Blass and Dior: Jada Pinkett Smith in a perfect coral Armani, Rachel Weisz in gorgeous red Bill Blass and Slammin Salma Hayek in a white Dior. (you can go to style.com for photos of all of these beauties). And of course, J-Lo shows up wearing all of her own jewelry and fox fur fake eyelashes and channeling Liz Taylor, right down to the adoring husband. And Renee Zellweger is all perfect, if not a wee bit pinched. I would love to see that dress she was wearing on Julianne Moore. Her coloring is perfect for that type of thing. And Hilary Swank and Reese Witherspoon show up with their brave Oscar-winning divorcee faces on to show how strong they are in the face of adversity. They both looked great, in spite of their struggles.

I have to say that one always hopes, if not for a Bjork swan-dress moment, then at least for a little bit of Cher out there. Everyone can't look perfect, right? That would be boring as hell. Well, I thought it was bad enough that Charlie Sheen was wearing the most ill-fitting jacket I had ever seen and that Philip Seymour Hoffman was incredibly rumpled and that Clint Eastwood was wearing a funky goldish tiny bow tie (Clint and I have an unspoken pact: He shows up to win awards wearing ties I hate and I stay home and watch him win in those ties I hate. Very simple). And even Beyonce's Mackie-esque gown could be reasoned out one of two ways: either her mother made that dress for her and forced her to wear it using mother's guilt or she's taking the Miss Diana Ross thing too far. But no, someone I like had to show up looking like hell. Someone I like had to make me say, out loud to my television, "Ooooooh Noooo!" Not only is this someone I like, someone who's Golden Globe winning show I thoroughly enjoy, this is someone I've seen in person, from not too great a distance. Someone who is, for her age, hell for any age, absolutely stunning and can pull off almost any outfit. Almost. So I ask you this: Why Vanessa? Why? When Tim Allen was on stage with her (by the way, why was he there...oh right, Santa Clause 3), he gave her the up and down and said, "Man if looks were a minute, you'd be a loooong day." Yes, Tim, a very long day indeed.

Blond Bondshell

(This is the second version of this post. The first one disappeared into thin air when I tried to publish it. Thanks, blogger!)

Let me open by saying that I love Sean Connery as James Bond. ML and I went through a Bond phase where we rented all the Connerys and they were wonderful. Nobody can match the Great Scot in his signature role. It's a perfect fit, he's perfection and no one who's followed (Lazenby, Moore, Dalton, Brosnan or the new guy, more on him in a moment) will ever live up to that performance. Even in Never Say Never Again, he was still The Man. That said, I think Daniel Craig did alright as Bond. Let's face it, this guy's up against a lot...filling Connery's shoes (impossible, but I think he knew that and just went his own way with the role), being a relative unknown (in the States, because if you check his list of credits on IMDB you will see it's as long as my arm) and, of course, being blond (this is a real bone of contention for some, along the same lines as Renee Zellweger, a Texan, playing the veddy British Bridget Jones). Did you know there's a Daniel Craig is not Bond web site. There are some hard core people out there.

Although I've seen a lot of Bond films, I don't consider myself an authority by any stretch of the imagination. Here's what I'm basing my opinion on: all the Connerys (Goldfinger rocks), the one Lazenby (On Her Majesty's Secret Service with Diana Rigg. Saucy!) and one Dalton (I caught The Living Daylights on cable once. I think he was better in Flash Gordon, with the green tights). I've tried to watch Moore, but it just doesn't work for me. I fell asleep during Moonraker and simply could not get through A View to a Kill (Tanya Roberts! Christopher Walken! Grace Jones! Oh my!). As for Brosnan, I can't get past the whole Remington Steele thing. I keep expecting Stephanie Zimbalist to walk in and yell at him for something.

So, about Craig. He's not as suave as Connery, not as cheeky as Moore and not as dark haired as any of the other ones. He is rugged as hell and quite possibly the fittest man I have ever seen. (I realize that his body might have been a bit of a distraction for me, but as ML said "it's about time you chicks got a bit of beefcake.") Granted, it was clear that he did not seem at ease in The Suit, but how many guys truly feel like themselves in a tux. I'll tell you how many. Four: Connery as Bond, Cary Grant, George Clooney and my Dad. I'm not counting Fred Astaire because he always wore tails. I'm talking about your basic, classic, timeless tuxedo. Craig seemed most comfortable in those swim trunks, which is ok by me. By the way, am I the only one who thought of Ursula Andress in Dr. No the first time Craig burst out of the waters? Intentional or not, that was a good wink.

Other notes on the film: this is supposed to be the prequel, the one where we find out how Bond became Bond, right? Right. That would explain the dearth of fancy gadgets. All we got in this one was a car (not even an Aston Martin) outfitted with a very large gun, a syringe full of God knows what and a defibrilator. Sad. But I love, love, love Judi Dench as M, so much so that I think she should be given a franchise all her own, complete with a young boy Moneypenny. Are you listening, Mr. Broccoli? You can't give this woman enough screen time. The villain? Yeah, ok, he was alright with his inhaler and his bloody eye (literally bloody, not English "oh bloody hell" bloody.) He totally monlogued when he should have simply gotten on with the business of dispatching Bond. They always do, don't they? (best Bond/Villain exchange ever? Bond: Do you expect me to talk? Goldfinger: No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to DIE!"). Vesper Lynd? She sure did wear a lot of dark eye makeup. Her name should have been Smokey Eyes. She's no Pussy Galore, I'll say that much.

Did I walk in to Casino Royale with expectations of how true it would be to old school Bond? Not really. Like I said, I love Connery, but I'm not a rabid fan. I didn't grow up watching Bond films, I actually came to them a bit late, but I do understand how some people might feel upset or betrayed. The only thing that comes close to that for me is the Superman franchise. ( I did go see Superman Returns, but no matter how many new movies they make, Christopher Reeve will always be Superman to me. Sorry, Brandon Routh.) I will say that this film had a lot of great action and exotic locales (London, the Bahamas, Miami, Montenegro, Venice) to keep me interested, even if it did run a bit long (no thanks to the series of commercials shown before the actual previews. Capitalist bastards.) My point is this; if you want Connery, gadgets, babes and Q, then watch one of the Connery Bond films. However, if you want to see a well-built guy stripped naked, tied to a chair and tortured in a most unusual fashion, then by all means, this Bond's for you.