Rants and Raves

The Gutsy Mr Lambert – Methinks the uproar over a “racy” performance of Adam Lambert at the AMA is a bit of overkill. The show was such a downer a grotesque act was much needed. To the uninitiated: that’s what we call entertainment! Mr. Lambert definitely lived up to the name of his album. I would have been disenchanted if he performed it rather safe and generic. Query: When Britney and Madonna made out at the VMA, people hailed it as cool but for Adam’s he was inundated with condemnations? Fuck all the homophobes!





Meryl, The Incredible – I recently watched Julie and Julia written and directed by Nora Ephron. A lovely film, indeed. But my attention gravitated towards the impeccably glorious portrayal of Meryl Streep as Julia Child. She’s definitely a lock for a Best Actress nomination come awards season. And she has the props to back it up: the charming French accent, the Susan Boyle-inspired hairdo and the infectious mannerisms. If Ms Streep doesn’t win this coming Oscars (she was robbed big time in The Devil Wears Prada), AMPAS members should be decapitated! And oh, did I mention that Amy Adams was delicious as usual!





A Plea to Gemma - I am quite disturbed over Gemma Ward’s recent weight gain. How could such a ferocious doll-beauty overlooked her burgeoning body? After Heath Ledger’s death, the model seemed to traverse a rather disastrous road of coping stress: binging out! Prior to the “transformation”, Ms Ward was the fiercest supermodel who “looked awesome in everything from basic prêt-a-porter shoots to some pretty unusual avante garde creations.” Today, the modeling scene is a sea of déclassé mannequins (save for Chanel Iman and Natasha Poly) and I am hoping that one day Gemma contemplates on returning to modeling. Ms Ward, hit the gym now and bring fierce back!

New Moon = New Yawn

Dark, gripping and provoking: The trailer almost duped me. But, as they say, the devils were in the details.

Where do I begin: Robert Pattinson’s distracting, over-the-top make-up? Kristen Stewart’s annoying facial antics (someone tell her to relax that freaking mouth! Calling Ms. Tyra Banks to demonstrate the trick!)? The ensemble’s sophomoric, one-dimensional acting? The dragging and sleep-inducing first few scenes? Or the irrelevant soundtrack?

But flaws are inconsequential when the oh-so-potent tween power salvages to the rescue making Twilight saga a crazy global phenomenon. They mobbed to the theater oblivious of the long queue and mostly, by sheer force, they dictate the decibel sound in the theater. When Bella and Edward kissed, they shrilled. When Edward took off his shirt, they squealed like hell. And the kicker: When Jacob flaunted those sculpted muscles (my erstwhile Convergys’ colleague, Macon, surmised the steroids did the wonder), the collective shriek almost lasted like an eternity.

New Moon’s Achilles’ heel lies on its clichéd-ness. Its run-of-the-mill plot is devoid of depth and substance. Watching it was an insufferable ordeal through and through. But nothing could be further from the truth: in times of a post-global crisis, we do not need “grainy, rasping, and bleak” (to quote Newsweek’s Joshua Levine) movies, we need a good kick, no-brainer film. And if watching it is your way of unwinding after a weeklong of a mentally strenuous job, fleetingly, New Moon sucks you out from the void and whets your appetite!

Kick-Ass Songs for November

Empire State of Mind (Jay-Z feat. Alicia Keys) – Usually, a song about a place is a hackneyed act of overpatriotism and a humdrum namedropping routine you wish that place never existed. Enter the antithesis of it, Empire State of Mind: blustery, thuggy, appropriately proud and grand. From Jay-Z’s The Blueprint 3 album, the track is so well-crafted it feels glorious to be New Yorker. But credit should be given to whom it is due. Although Jay-Z, the self-proclaimed “new Sinatra”, is at his usual excellent rapping repertoire, the song’s ne plus ultra is Alicia Keys’ strong vocals and lusty shout-outs of the chorus enticing it to ubiquity. Overall, when such two powerhouses collaborate, the song could never go wrong.



Try Sleeping With a Broken Heart (Alicia Keys) – Alicia Keys’ Try Sleeping With a Broken Heart is a much-needed saving grace after the disappointingly mediocre Doesn’t Mean Anything, the first single from her upcoming studio album, The Element of Freedom. Quite a new turf for Ms. Keys, the track which is synth-doused has this nostalgic 80s appeal almost reminiscent of Pat Benatar. Nevertheless, Alicia infused the song with her signature edginess making Try Sleeping With a Broken Heart a winner track.



Fireflies (Owl City) - When the words fireflies, lightning bugs, foxtrot and disco balls are all present in a song sans the mawkish awkwardness, one is toted to a chimerical world. Fireflies with its intelligent electronica tricks by Owl City, thank goodness, is a welcome relief amidst the nondescript sounds bellowing on the radio right now. Whatever inspired Adam Young on this song, it has an inevitable universal effect: “a smile creeping across your face.”

This Is It?

Adoring Michael Jackson with superlatives isn't an overkill. It could hardly even be classified as a prejudiced gesture. A connoisseur could only agree that it is just a germane worship to a virtuoso that changed the pop music landscape and inspired a multitude of wannabees.

Watching "This Is It" is an initiation for me. Though, I've witnessed the King's flawless executions onstage, the documentary unleashes Michael's humanity and vulnerabilities as a pop icon. The audience is transported into the dramas of rehearsal and the raw making of a perfection. Here, we witness Michaels's intelligence as an artist. His suave and full control of the entire spectacle - from the perfect timing of the fireworks, to the minutest element of a bass sound to the handpicking of the dance crew - is a vindication: That he knows his music to a t, after all, isn't an exaggeration.

But the snapshots of Michael's humor was the ultimate icing on the cake. His child-like gestures and naive predilections are mesmerizing to watch. A perfect antithesis of a diva, Michael is quickly apologetic even to his smallest blunders. With such tenderness, I'm still convinced that his child molestation cases went overboard and a total sensational crap.

My friend, Joie, and I agree that Michael's untimely demise was, in fact, a perfect exit. A real icon dies on top of his game not when he becomes a total loser and a complete bore (usually occuring in the latter part of his life). With that, longevity is secured, major fuck-ups stalled.

As the credits of the film rolled, my brother, a big fan of Mr. Jackson and adamant of his belief that the whole shebang is a major hoax, asked me: "This is it?"

Caught unawares, it got me thinking: A film of almost three hours, after all, isn't enough to capture the genius of Michael. But Mr. Ortega, it was a good try!