People and things that are over
Here’s an analogy for you: A cherry Slurpee on a hot and steamy summer day is refreshingly cool. That very same Slurpee sucked down too enthusiastically is (wince, shudder, suppress that scream) so very painfully cold. Not familiar with the sensation? Spend too much time with anyone on the following list and it will come to you.
That death aria you hear isn’t Opera Man singing. It’s the fat lady. And she croons for annoying, puerile comedians who mug incessantly.
Macho journalism was losing its muscle. Mailer’s muddled, wimpy ITALIC “Oswald’s Tale”] knocked it flat.
Beverly Hills, 90210:
These teenagers are looking a little crusty. Word is Dylan’s long-lost younger sister shows up next season. She’ll be played by Lauren Bacall.
That’s Stone. As in ”Success isn’t written in.”
Stay tuned for The People’s Choice Presents the Essence Awards at the Kennedy Center for Lifetime Achievements in Flimsily Contrived Shows Celebrating Moderately Talented People Who Make a Lot of Money. On CBS.
Since its programming Can’t Be Sloppier and it Couldn’t Buy Sports, what did it do? Added a bunch of Crummy, Boring Sitcoms. It Couldn’t Be Sadder.
You can never be too rich or too thin. But if you are, get out of our face.
Beavis and Butt-head:
Even they’d agree: Their show sucks. Huh-huh.
Beethoven pined, Jefferson whined, and Cobb maligned. But when it came to feature films about them, audiences declined.
Quentin Tarantino, actor:
Take a tip from another inspired director, Alfred Hitchcock, and limit your on-camera attempts to five seconds. At most.
Trashy disco glamour:
The homage to ’70s sluttishness favored by young Hollywood — matted hair, pencil-thin brows, greasy skin, and shrunken satin clothing — is a look even Drew Barrymore can’t pull off.
Forget Paris? Forget Mr. Saturday Night; forget about directing and concentrate on hosting the Oscars.
Bad guys with accents:
Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? Well, if Die Hards I and III, True Lies, Cliffhanger, Passenger 57, and Blown Away are any indication, it’s someone who smokes Gitanes and speaks in foreign tongues. Time to admit that bad guys don’t have to carry passports.
Tired gags, predictable format, smug demeanor. It’s not just his hair that’s wearing thin.