Surreality Star

I'm no square. I'm pretty hip to what the kids like these days, even if my interests do tend to skew toward the more nerdly aspects of popular culture. So it was a humbling, surreal experience to march in the Gay Pride Parade alongside a celebrity I'd never heard of and listen to the frantic screams of her many fans.

The Voice sometimes partners up with other companies and sponsors for big events like parades and ritual bull slaughters. Our partner this time was Bethenny Frankel, who through a failed experiment with gamma radiation morphed into a creature who is both a woman and a brand. As far as I can tell, she uses her powers to sell low-calorie Skinny Girl Margaritas and garner ratings on her many Bravo reality shows, though whether that makes her a hero or a villain is anyone's guess. All I know is that while the Street Team was roasting on 38th Street for three hours, waiting for our turn to enter the parade, SHE was sitting in a nice, air-conditioned restaurant. Out of a mixture of jealousy and overheating, I decided to cultivate a simmering loathing for her. As a reality TV star, I expect she's used to it.

Seriously though, for someone I've never heard of, this chick was really, REALLY popular, to the point that people on the parade sidelines were screaming at me to get out of the way so they could take her picture. They wanted her picture more than they wanted her brand-sponsored free beach balls and frisbees. Even the cops, that's the NYP-freaking-D, were almost inappropriately happy to see her in the parade.

And the weirdness doesn't stop there. Frankel's fans knew stuff about her. Like, intimate stuff that I suppose you have to broadcast when you're a hybrid human-commercial property, but still: they knew she was getting married, that she'd just had a baby, the names of her friends and family--you wonder how the real stalkers distinguish themselves from the regular fans at this point. Well, maybe YOU don't wonder that, but I do, because I'm sick and twisted on the inside like a knot hidden deep in a bundle of yarn that you don't find until you're halfway done knitting your sweater and it pops out at you like the second little mouth inside the big mouth of the creature from "Alien."

What was I going on about now?

You know what, I don't even care. Screw reality TV stars. I'd actively hate them if I hadn't been to a reality show taping at the Knitting Factory a few weeks back and seen for myself how sad and miserable their lives are. Man, talk about twisted knots of humanity.

Oh, and speaking of the NYPD, a cop stopped by our booth after the parade and was hitting on Brian. It was awesome.

Be Italian

Last night, I got to attend the New York premiere of the movie "Nine," starring DanielDayLewisMarionCotillardPenelopeCruzKateHudsonJudidon'tcallmeDameDenchSophiaLorenandFergie. Whew. Lot of star power in that picture. Everyone except Sophia Loren attended the screening, and for those curious about how much celebrititis I was exposed to, I did get within touching distance of Judi Dench and Marion Cotillard, and within spitting distance of Penelope Cruz and Nicole Kidman. According to my good friend and fellow blogger RiskingHemlock, I was also seen passing by Daniel Day-Lewis on the red carpet, but I must have been too distracted by how pretty my shoes were, because I didn't notice. Seriously, look at my shoes! Plus, I got to walk down the red carpet twice; there was an issue with our tickets, so we had to go back outside to confer with the publicists and then walk the whole gauntlet again. Nobody paid attention to us, but I felt a little sorry for all the big stars who couldn't walk three steps without having to stop and pose and be blinded to the point of seizures by the flash bulbs. Let me say, sometimes it's nice to be nobody.

Of course, those who remember my trip to The Daily Show already know my views on celebrities: they look just like they do in their movies, only more real lifey. Not that I'm one of those I-don't-care-about-meeting-celebrities-because-I'm-too-cool-and-secretly-jealous-of-them people. I might have squealed and hopped about like an idiot if I'd actually gotten to meet any of these people, but since I just SAW them, I managed to keep my composure and not embarrass myself or the BF's family.

I was more excited about getting to sit next to Uncle G--- in the theater, one of the BF's hanai relatives, because he knew all the good gossip about the non-movie star celebs in the room and kept up a running commentary in my ear about who produced what Disney movie, who directed which Broadway hit, who gave money to which hospital and why, and of course, who was sleeping with whom. We also talked about arms dealing, and then he showed me a picture of his dog. Good times.

As for the movie "Nine," it was excellent. As good as "Chicago" and way, way better than "Memoirs of a Geisha," (which, much like the "Matrix" sequels, I just pretend never happened). The songs were great and eminently hummable--I've been crooning "Be Italian" to myself all day--and get this, it was honest and emotional, a thoughtful, intelligent musical that's also a big budget star-packed extraveganza. When they sang, I cared. It seems to come from some Bizarro version of Hollywood, where movies are sumptuous, sensory delights that have something sad and important to say about love and the human condition, and DON'T use 'splosions to say it.

Needless to say, "Nine" will do much better in Europe than here in the U.S. Not to trash the motherland, but the masses tend to have piss-poor taste when it comes to entertainment. The last time I was in Amsterdam, I went every day to the movie theater because it was colder than a witch's tit outside and there's only so much Dutch television I can watch in a hotel room smaller than a Manhattan studio. And all of the movies I saw were studio-funded Hollywood movies with mainstream actors--no foreign or arthouse or even indie flicks--but they were just so GOOD compared to the studio-funded Hollywood movies shown here at home. They were intelligent, character-driven, witty, and thought-provoking, like nothing I'd heard of in the States! Admittedly, at the time I was still living in Honolulu, and we don't get much besides Asian cinema and 'splosion-fests from the mainland, but still yet--it felt like all the movies I would have wanted to see were made for export.

That's why I'm way happy and feel very fortunate to have gone to the premiere of "Nine." I'm glad to know that people are funding this sort of project, and that other people are watching it, and that movies can still be magic with nothing but great actors, great costumes, great music, and great scenery (CGI, I'm glaring at you across the room).