This article is from the source 'guardian' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.
You can find the current article at its original source at http://www.theguardian.com/culture/2014/jun/21/from-dwayne-johnson-to-mrs-browns-boys-we-defend-the-indefensible
The article has changed 2 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.
Previous version
1
Next version
| Version 0 | Version 1 |
|---|---|
| From Dwayne Johnson to Mrs Brown's Boys, we defend the indefensible | From Dwayne Johnson to Mrs Brown's Boys, we defend the indefensible |
| (2 months later) | |
| Dwayne Johnson is the Marlon Brando of our age | Dwayne Johnson is the Marlon Brando of our age |
| In 1947, a young Marlon Brando very nearly missed out on the starring role in A Streetcar Named Desire because director Elia Kazan wanted an older, less attractive star for the part. Today, that prejudice remains in an entertainment industry reluctant to acknowledge the acting chops of such similarly studly thesps as Channing Tatum, Ryan Reynolds and – above all – Dwayne Johnson. Ever since he cast off his petrological wrestling persona with a revelatory turn in Richard Kelly’s bizarre, oft-misunderstood Southland Tales, Johnson has taken on a succession of challenging roles and challenged them right back. In Tooth Fairy, he created (where Vin Diesel failed in The Pacfier) the first sympathetic bodybuilding babysitter in Hollywood. In The Other Guys, his 5-minute cameo as a farcically reckless NYPD detective proved funnier than Will Ferrell’s entire two-hour grandstand. And last year, in Michael Bay’s Pain & Gain, a criminally underrated satire of capitalism, he delivered a complex, emotional character study that also saw him grill a man’s hands on an outdoor barbecue. | In 1947, a young Marlon Brando very nearly missed out on the starring role in A Streetcar Named Desire because director Elia Kazan wanted an older, less attractive star for the part. Today, that prejudice remains in an entertainment industry reluctant to acknowledge the acting chops of such similarly studly thesps as Channing Tatum, Ryan Reynolds and – above all – Dwayne Johnson. Ever since he cast off his petrological wrestling persona with a revelatory turn in Richard Kelly’s bizarre, oft-misunderstood Southland Tales, Johnson has taken on a succession of challenging roles and challenged them right back. In Tooth Fairy, he created (where Vin Diesel failed in The Pacfier) the first sympathetic bodybuilding babysitter in Hollywood. In The Other Guys, his 5-minute cameo as a farcically reckless NYPD detective proved funnier than Will Ferrell’s entire two-hour grandstand. And last year, in Michael Bay’s Pain & Gain, a criminally underrated satire of capitalism, he delivered a complex, emotional character study that also saw him grill a man’s hands on an outdoor barbecue. |
| Charlie Lyne | Charlie Lyne |
| Structured reality TV opens a window on to the human soul | Structured reality TV opens a window on to the human soul |
| Skinny lads messing with kestrels. TFI Friday with Chris Evans. Every age has a realism to suit its reality. “Is it scripted? Why are they so dead behind the eyes? How does this bequiffed idiot have such a deeply nectarine complexion?” Such griping misses the point. The risible acting and dramatic editing of structured reality shows make them form-expanding masterpieces. The inauthenticity of shows such as Made In Chelsea and the, ahem, seminal Towie expose the half-reality of our own mediated, self-conscious Instagram existences. I think. | |
| Rhik Sammader | Rhik Sammader |
| Mrs Brown’s Boys is comedy as it should be | Mrs Brown’s Boys is comedy as it should be |
| “Crass, backwards-looking and unfunny,” goes the critical consensus on Brendan O’Carroll’s feck-flecked sitcom. But what if the critics are on the wrong side of history on this one, like they were with Zeppelin, or the Opal Fruits to Starburst name change? What if Mrs Brown’s Boys is actually the platonic ideal of what comedy can and should be? Consider the evidence: here’s a show that recognises that a man being assaulted with a rectal thermometer is funnier than any long-winded witticism could ever be; here’s a show that offers up a truly progressive family at its centre: a matriarch in drag whose eldest son is out and proud and whose youngest is a model example of the rehabilitative qualities of prison (he’s married and has found gainful employment dressing up as a penguin); here’s a show that started out on stage and moved to screen, and as such is, arguably, the closest thing our generation has to Play For Today; here’s a show that exhibits a flair for fourth-wall-breaking self-awareness – fluffed lines left in the final edit, Mrs Brown directly acknowledging a camera that has strayed into shot – that meta wannabe Arrested Development would kill for; most tellingly, here’s a show that regularly attracts 9m viewers at a time when TV audiences are dwindling. Have 9m people ever been wrong? I mean, that’s probably the same amount of people that voted for Ukip. | |
| Gwilym Mumford | Gwilym Mumford |
| Vloggers are brilliant! | Vloggers are brilliant! |
| Human instances of the American Dream, Vloggers have YouTube as their dusty ochre frontier. It’s a place where anyone, no matter how mundane their opinions, or how terminal their humour, has a chance to make a bit of money from ad revenue, and travel to California every year for VidCon. Sure, people might say “Vloggers are disgusting, their works just extended audiovisual selfies, the hallmark of this culture of homogenised narcissism”, and those people are absolutely right. But without Vloggers how would we know? Want to find out what’s in someone’s bag? Head to Beckie’s page. Want to hear songs about Doctor Who by a band who specialise in Doctor Who songs? Head on up to Charlie McDonnell’s profile. Truly, Vloggers are David Attenborough in the foggy jungle of twee bollocks, and we must preserve them, lest we all open our eyes and watch something worthwhile. | |
| Joe Bish | Joe Bish |
| The Manic Pixie Dream Girl is a feminist role model | The Manic Pixie Dream Girl is a feminist role model |
| The Manic Pixie Dream Girl (or MPDG) is often accused of being a one-dimensional character: a hot, hipster, wide-eyed cool girl who falls for losers and never gets her own story. How can people say this? The original MPDG, Kristen Dunst’s flight attendant in Elizabethtown, was inexplicably drawn to Orlando Bloom’s suicidal businessman. Mysteriously sexy stalker, or career woman taking control of her own life? I know what I think. There’s more. That bit in Garden State, where Natalie Portman tells Zach Braff the song on her Walkman will “change your life”? OK, it was playing the Shins at that moment, but how do you know she wasn’t listening to a mix CD, and Bikini Kill’s Rebel Girl had just finished? Final proof can be found in serial MPDG Zooey Deschanel’s sitcom New Girl, about a dumped schoolteacher who moves into a houseshare and invests all her emotional happiness in men. Jess sees herself as equal to her male flatmates: equally responsible for picking up their mess, equally likely to have a meltdown if faced with any problem more complex than “picking something up from the post office”. And that bubbly, available exterior, like a Labrador wearing eyeliner, is probably a complex comment on the patriarchy. I can’t believe you idiots were fooled by that! | The Manic Pixie Dream Girl (or MPDG) is often accused of being a one-dimensional character: a hot, hipster, wide-eyed cool girl who falls for losers and never gets her own story. How can people say this? The original MPDG, Kristen Dunst’s flight attendant in Elizabethtown, was inexplicably drawn to Orlando Bloom’s suicidal businessman. Mysteriously sexy stalker, or career woman taking control of her own life? I know what I think. There’s more. That bit in Garden State, where Natalie Portman tells Zach Braff the song on her Walkman will “change your life”? OK, it was playing the Shins at that moment, but how do you know she wasn’t listening to a mix CD, and Bikini Kill’s Rebel Girl had just finished? Final proof can be found in serial MPDG Zooey Deschanel’s sitcom New Girl, about a dumped schoolteacher who moves into a houseshare and invests all her emotional happiness in men. Jess sees herself as equal to her male flatmates: equally responsible for picking up their mess, equally likely to have a meltdown if faced with any problem more complex than “picking something up from the post office”. And that bubbly, available exterior, like a Labrador wearing eyeliner, is probably a complex comment on the patriarchy. I can’t believe you idiots were fooled by that! |
| Issy Sampson | Issy Sampson |
| The world needs more superhero movies | The world needs more superhero movies |
| Speedball, Squirrel Girl, Dazzler, all these superheroes are not yet movies. Captain Britain, Savage Dragon, Turok The Dinosaur Hunter; neither are these. What’s going on Hollywood, have you been on the wheatgrass smoothies again? I’m looking at my Google Superhero Release Schedules calendar here and I can see a spare week in October 2015 where Moon Knight: The Movie would fit in perfectly. The thing about superheroes is that they are powerful allegories for people’s real-life experiences. Yes, it’s the same allegory about how it’s really important to believe in yourself, but without that we wouldn’t have a generation of self-important nerds. And nobody wants that. | |
| Paul MacInnes | Paul MacInnes |
| No pitbull no party | No pitbull no party |
| The role of the international statesman has never been one of glamour. Boutros Boutros-Ghali never got to say “get the London look”. Kofi Annan never got to bang an Olsen. And, for Pitbull, life should have taken a similarly drab path. He’s an appallingly dressed man with zero musical talent who most resembles a slimy yacht salesman you might see being busted by Matt Allwright in a Portuguese port. Yet Pitbull has overcome these afflictions to become not only a figure of global unity – he’s on the official World Cup song – but also a sleaze and the self-proclaimed Mr Worldwide, a feat Annan could only dream of. Pitbull’s success relies entirely on a piece of global diplomacy that makes Maastricht Treaty look like an Argos warranty. In each territory he is a chart-topper: USA, latin America, Mexico, Europe, UK. But on each occasion he has only got there by convincing the audience that some other part of the world was already treating him like a deity. The British blame him on the Spanish, the Spanish on the Brazilians, the Brazilians on the Americans. Pitbull has become popular everywhere because he is popular nowhere. Which is why he must be venerated. In times of increasing global tensions and distrust of politicians, Pitbull has found a way to overcome factions and turn the world into a sort of global foam party. He is beyond democracy, he is global unity, he is the great leader, HE IS MR. WORLDWIDE. Suck on that Nato. | The role of the international statesman has never been one of glamour. Boutros Boutros-Ghali never got to say “get the London look”. Kofi Annan never got to bang an Olsen. And, for Pitbull, life should have taken a similarly drab path. He’s an appallingly dressed man with zero musical talent who most resembles a slimy yacht salesman you might see being busted by Matt Allwright in a Portuguese port. Yet Pitbull has overcome these afflictions to become not only a figure of global unity – he’s on the official World Cup song – but also a sleaze and the self-proclaimed Mr Worldwide, a feat Annan could only dream of. Pitbull’s success relies entirely on a piece of global diplomacy that makes Maastricht Treaty look like an Argos warranty. In each territory he is a chart-topper: USA, latin America, Mexico, Europe, UK. But on each occasion he has only got there by convincing the audience that some other part of the world was already treating him like a deity. The British blame him on the Spanish, the Spanish on the Brazilians, the Brazilians on the Americans. Pitbull has become popular everywhere because he is popular nowhere. Which is why he must be venerated. In times of increasing global tensions and distrust of politicians, Pitbull has found a way to overcome factions and turn the world into a sort of global foam party. He is beyond democracy, he is global unity, he is the great leader, HE IS MR. WORLDWIDE. Suck on that Nato. |
| Sam Wolfson | Sam Wolfson |
| The V Festival is a vital British institution | The V Festival is a vital British institution |
| Who has their finger on the nation’s pulse? The UK’s third most satisfactory broadband provider (Ofcom, 2012), that’s who. Traditionally, the British festival season has been a place of rough edges and unwashed dreads. But Virgin Media knows which way the wind is blowing. The future lies with the great washed: the Hollyoaks youth with their waxed six-packs and spotless Hunter wellies. The genius of V Festival is its ruthless application of market forces, populism distilled until it resembles the Great British High Street trowled up and scattered over a field in Chelmsford/Shropshire. This is the weekend for people living for the weekend. Pop your collar. Have it. | |
| Louis Pattison | Louis Pattison |
| Rihanna is in no way overexposed | Rihanna is in no way overexposed |
| Rihanna’s bum is the Loch Ness Monster of modern-day pop culture. Many have dedicated years in pursuit of a rare snapshot of that enigmatic derriere. But like the Barbadian Kate Bush, she retreats at the very glint of media glare. She lurks in the shadows of obscurity like the female Syd Barrett, runs at the first sign of commercial showboating like a scrubbed-up John Frusciante. She’s the major-label Jai Paul. I literally have no idea what her arse looks like. The media take RiRi’s privacy so seriously that she makes Meg White look like the royal baby on 23 July 2013. Talking of birth, did you know that her sister’s just had a baby? Probably not, because she’s so intent on keeping her barely born family member anonymous that she certainly would never live-tweet its first 48 hours post-womb. She’s a masked crusader, a publicity dodger. A right old bit of hush. Rihanna, team Rihanna and the Daily Mail: down with all this secrecy. Give us what we want (stoned selfies, the gorgeous Chris Brown, and arse. Loads of arse). | Rihanna’s bum is the Loch Ness Monster of modern-day pop culture. Many have dedicated years in pursuit of a rare snapshot of that enigmatic derriere. But like the Barbadian Kate Bush, she retreats at the very glint of media glare. She lurks in the shadows of obscurity like the female Syd Barrett, runs at the first sign of commercial showboating like a scrubbed-up John Frusciante. She’s the major-label Jai Paul. I literally have no idea what her arse looks like. The media take RiRi’s privacy so seriously that she makes Meg White look like the royal baby on 23 July 2013. Talking of birth, did you know that her sister’s just had a baby? Probably not, because she’s so intent on keeping her barely born family member anonymous that she certainly would never live-tweet its first 48 hours post-womb. She’s a masked crusader, a publicity dodger. A right old bit of hush. Rihanna, team Rihanna and the Daily Mail: down with all this secrecy. Give us what we want (stoned selfies, the gorgeous Chris Brown, and arse. Loads of arse). |
| Harriet Gibsone | Harriet Gibsone |
| In-game purchases make gaming better | In-game purchases make gaming better |
| In-game purchases allow me to buy new swords with which to cleave dirty great chunks out of goblins’ faces, or snazzy outfits that make fellow players so envious they die a little inside. Both mean I win. People – idiots – say IGPs are just ways to rinse money from customers, but what they do is facilitate superiority without any actual ability, because gaining ability takes time which those of us with rent to pay and trousers to buy do not have. Yes, there are horror stories of kids racking up astounding credit card bills by clicking on “Purchase Now”, but look at it this way: they had the acumen to commit serious credit card fraud in the first place. | In-game purchases allow me to buy new swords with which to cleave dirty great chunks out of goblins’ faces, or snazzy outfits that make fellow players so envious they die a little inside. Both mean I win. People – idiots – say IGPs are just ways to rinse money from customers, but what they do is facilitate superiority without any actual ability, because gaining ability takes time which those of us with rent to pay and trousers to buy do not have. Yes, there are horror stories of kids racking up astounding credit card bills by clicking on “Purchase Now”, but look at it this way: they had the acumen to commit serious credit card fraud in the first place. |
| Luke Holland | Luke Holland |
Previous version
1
Next version