The first trailer for Rob Marshall’s film adaptation of Nine has arrived online, and I think as of this writing it’s already received 13 Oscar nominations. Yes, that is the trailer, not the movie. I think we have to wait until November to find out if the actual film is any good, but it’s probable that it too will be nominated for at least as many as Chicago, if not also as many as 8 ½. If it wins as many as both those films put together, that’s only 8, though, and it would be far more appropriate that it be awarded 9 Academy Awards. One thing is for certain: it unfortunately will not win everything it’s up for, because only one of the five actresses from the film nominated for Best Supporting Actress will be allowed to win. Wait, no, I do believe there’s a chance of a five-way tie. Otherwise, I’m hereby predicting Dame Judi Dench gets the trophy for sporting Catherine Zeta-Jones‘ Oscar-winning bob (only grayer).
I must admit that at first I thought I was watching a music video for Daft Punk’s “Aerodynamic.” I know, the tone of the bell chimes isn’t the same, but it’s close. After that, though, I was in heaven. Who knew that remaking Fellini as a Fosse-like production could be so gorgeous? And, sure, I mostly mean the women — even Nicole Kidman looks beautiful again — but I also mean everything else. Of course, all I really remember is Penelope Cruz’s legs, Kate Hudson’s shake, Marion Cotillard’s neck and, sure, even Fergie’s cleavage. Could this be the movie that gets straight men (besides me) to go see a musical?
There’s apparently a new Batman movie out? And it had the best weekend opening ever? Hmmm. The things a girl misses when she goes on vacation! Meanwhile, Meryl Streep continued to prove her insane drawing power at the summer box office, as Mamma Mia! withstood the Dark Knight onslaught to scrape up a totally respectable $27.6 million.
Cinetic Media is developing a “multimillion-dollar film-finishing fund”, with the help of an injection of cash from Aver Media.
Time Warner Cable has struck a deal to carry Fearnet, the horror movies on-demand service of Sony Pictures TV, Lionsgate and Comcast.
If my Twitter stream is to be believed, I was the only female, 20-something writer in New York City who was NOT invited to the Sex and the City premiere last night. (Could it have been because of this? Or this? Or this? Hmmm.) Certainly, each picture Julia Allison staged at the event offers up at least 1,000 word on the matter, but who has time to do all that reading? Jeff Wells‘ take is much more succinct:
The film is another Taliban recruitment film — a grotesque and putrid valentine to the insipid “me, my lifestyle, my accessories and I” chick culture of the early 21st Century. Guys everywhere — if you’re in a brand-new relationship, take her to see this thing. If she even half-likes it, dump her and walk away cold. Save yourself!
Funny side note: I remember the moment when, as a senior in college, I decided that I could no longer in good conscience watch Sex and the City. It was, I think, the premiere of the first season to air after 9/11, and there was a scene where Carrie announced that she was going to help rebuild downtown by going shopping. It was such a direct aping of George W. Bush’s commerce-as-opiate for the troubled masses prescriptive of the time that it seemed like the ultimate sign that the show had cut loose the thread of critique that once seemed to be woven into its pornographic depiction of excessive consumption.
We obviously couldn’t have hoped that the movie would have transcended the worst aspects of the show––at least, not after having heard Fergie’s theme song––but I honestly didn’t think it was going to go as far as this, to become the embodiment of not just what *I* hate, but Why They Hate Us.
The theme song for the Sex and the City Movie, performed with heavy pitch-shift assist by the girl from Kids Incorporated who wasn’t Martika, is the embodiment of everything that has become loathsome about the franchise.
The aesthetics are godawful––the theme song from the television show is injected with helium and then laid over a beat borrowed from various hip hop hits of the early oughts, then finally zapped with that radio-friendly glitter sound that I think has been scientifically proven to melt brains––but it’s the vapid lyrics, and Fergie’s roboticized delivery of them, that truly turn the song into a celebration of the zombification that the show devolved into celebrating in its last few years. It’s straight-facedly about consumer gluttony in place of human connection, a fashion-forward Dorian Gray story in which women appear younger as they become richer and actually older. Life as a VOGUE spread with no end is a fairly sick fantasy, but at least in terms of “women’s pictures”, it has historical precedent (The Women, anyone?) and is thus cinematically tolerable. But you’ve got to wonder what’s on the screen if the brand geniuses think they need a plot song dance anthem to drive the message home.
We’ve had a bit of trouble getting this episode to go through the iTunes feed, so we hope this re-post will fix the problem. The original post, with episode description and embedded player, is here.
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There’s apparently a new Batman movie out? And it had the best weekend opening ever? Hmmm. The things a girl misses when she goes on vacation! Meanwhile, Meryl Streep continued to prove her insane drawing power at the summer box office, as Mamma Mia! withstood the Dark Knight onslaught to scrape up a totally respectable $27.6 million.
If my 
