Tornadoes In Brooklyn, Earthquakes In LA
by Molly Lambert
And now this hits, seriously the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen. I know Alex is up on this because he writes Gilmore Girls fan fiction (I have always found his obsession with the show slightly troubling and Morton Bartlettesque).
Granted FOX TV is known for squeezing every ounce of dignity out of its performers, but I really feel embarrassed for everyone involved in this well intentioned horror show. Also, this was already a whole fucking plot arc on Friends! Not one of their better plot arcs, as were so many of those designated to poor Pheebz. But they were using it to explain her real-life pregnancy with the guy she married after dating Conan O’Brien (until he moved to New York, to do his show).
I’ll try to make it up to you with this actually funny video without a laughtrack. This does bring up an eternal debate. Whose writing and corresponding acting style is more stilted, the Boys from Stella, or the Girls from Gilmore?
“Match me, Sidney“
My favorite thing about Mad Men is how not stilted/stodgy the dialogue is. It’s the fifties of Sweet Smell of Success and A Face in the Crowd. What Deadwood did for the West, Mad Men does for Fifties America. There are no seatbelts, characters smoke and drink while pregnant. A guy hits another guy’s kid for breaking a vase and when the dad hears about it he asks the kid if he wants another one. This shit is way more brutal than Rome (where Deadwood was originally set). If you haven’t watched Deadwood, here’s three excellent reasons to put it atop your Netflix Q:
1. Molly Parker is awesome as opium-addicted widow Alma Garrett. She also once starred as a stripper in an erotic film about voyeurism written by Miranda July and directed by Wayne Wang where Peter Sarsgaard is a computer geek who pays to talk to her or something. I don’t know. I haven’t seen it. It sounds like that one Billy Idol video.
2. Sweet tableau scenes and Major Dad as an evil newspaper tycoon.
3. If your attention span is really short, just rent Season Three, the last (sob!) season, with Brian Cox as a lovable Irish gadabout who brings theatre to Deadwood. What I’d give to hear that drunken Mick tell one more rambling story about acting to Al Swearengen. Curse your immortal soul, John From Cincinnati.
Molly Lambert is Senior Editor of This Recording, and she doesn’t even know any more.