Giving Away The Skim Milk For Free

Done well, a film trailer can be almost as satisfying as full-length film. Ideally, it captures your attention while giving away just enough information to leave you wanting more. In the case of a flick like "Watchmen," the trailer was apparently far better than the movie it was attached to.

My issues with the average romantic comedy have been well documented here, but I'm always surprised by how bad the trailers are. You'd think the studios would be at least savvy enough to not give the entire plot away. The first time I noticed this was when the trailer for "No Reservations" — the Catherine Zeta-Jones/Aaron Eckhart chefs-in-love movie — aired in 2007. She's a hard-charging chef caring for her dead sister's adorable daughter! He's the fun-loving, hot new guy in the kitchen! Their styles clash, but will he be the one who shows her how to embrace life — and love? Gee, do you think? Unless you're a big fan of either actor, why would you pay 8 bucks or more to see it when the trailer tells you exactly what's going to happen?

Not to harp on Eckhart, who really is an appealing actor, but he's starring in another movie ("Love Happens") that's guilty of giving away most of its milk for free via trailer. He's a successful self-help expert in pain. Enter the beautiful florist who has sworn off men. Can these two wounded souls find love again ... together? For real?

In the same week, I saw the trailer for "All About Steve," in which Sandra Bullock's wacky, unlucky-in-love character stalks a TV cameraman played by Bradley Cooper. OK. I can see stalking Bradley Cooper, and Thomas Haden Church automatically elevates any movie. But I hate it when a trailer indicates that a morally ambiguous character is going to redeem him/herself, and is inspired to do so because of some potential love interest who "isn't like anyone I've ever met." No. Also, major points off for the use of Sara Bareilles "Love Song," which is just insulting.

Maybe the real problem is my suspicion that neither of these movies are going to be very good. Sure, there were some expected moments in the "Sex and the City" movie (Did anyone doubt that Carrie and Big would get back together?), but the journey was satisfying and too complex to be reduced to a two-minute trailer. Give me something to look forward to.

Seriously. Enough.

I realize that vampires had their fans long before "Twilight," and if I owned a store with any vampire-themed wares, I'd be promoting the heck out of them right now. I totally get it. OK?

But when I walked into Borders this weekend and saw a huge display dedicated to the Gen Y vampires of "Twilight," "Blue Bloods," etc., I was overcome with exhaustion. Maybe it's because, for the umpteenth time this year, the cover of my beloved Entertainment Weekly is devoted to some permutation of the "Twilight" saga — this time, the "New Moon" sequel. Or maybe it's because I can't walk through a checkout aisle without a publication telling me that Robert Pattinson (Edward) and Kristen Stewart (Bella) are in love/breaking up/just pals/totally doing it. And didn't I just see a commercial for the CW's new teen drama "The Vampire Diaries?"

Again, I understand that Stephanie Meyer is but one of several writers who happened to write a series of books about vampires. Hers is the biggest, and she's certainly doing her part to help keep food on booksellers' tables. (And to be fair, when the "Harry Potter" books were at their peak, bookstores were pimping every children's series that looked like JK Rowling might have had something to do with it). "New Moon" will probably be a huge hit this fall, and as I've admitted, I haven't exactly been immune to Pattinson's charms as Edward Cullen. HBO's "True Blood" seems like the kind of show I would love, and I'm looking forward to renting the DVDs and getting acclimated. But for the love of God. I feel we're at the beginning some cosmic shark-jumping moment that will end in a Disney vampire musical featuring songs by Demi Lovato.

Target, You Disappoint Me

Dear Target:

I am madly in love with you. You know that. Most days, I would crawl on broken glass past a Wal-Mart to get to your beautiful Thakoon T-shirts and Method body washes. The only way Wal-Mart could get me to switch teams is by hiring greeters who look like Idris Elba and Simon Baker - and maybe not even then.

That being said, Target, mixing the plus-sized clothes with the Liz Lange maternity wear is an asshole move. And do I really need to point out that the LL outfits are better looking? It's like someone at corporate said, "Fat is fat. Plus-sized, pregnant, who cares? But let's put the big girl clothes slightly behind the maternity wear, since pregnant women are only fat temporarily."

I can wear quite a few things in your Misses section now, but since my bottom half refuses to go quietly, I still need stylish, plus-sized stuff to cover it. But it's not just about me. You're better than this. You're the discount retailer with good breeding, remember? This is not behavior befitting a store that brought Thomas O'Brien to the masses, and I expect more from you.

Hopelessly devoted to you,
EDP

The Princess And The Peeved

So far this week, I’ve read two essays about America’s princess problem. They aren’t the first I’ve read on the subject, but this piece at The Root is the only one I’ve seen from an African-American perspective. Disney is debuting its first black princess, Tiana, via “The Princess and the Frog” later this year.

Like any good feminist raising a daughter, I’ve noticed that the princess culture, popularized by Disney, is absolutely everywhere — and it’s annoying. A few weeks ago, I took C. to a full-on princess birthday party and nearly went blind from the room full of sequins, sparkles and bright pink flotsam and jetsam. Nails were painted and dusted with glitter. Feather boas and satin slippers were donned. PrincessMania ’09 wouldn’t have been my choice for a party theme, but C. and the rest of the guests had fun.

Of course, I’d love for film studios to make more animated features about spirited girls who don’t wear ball gowns. It was a little depressing to see intrepid tomboy Dora the Explorer get the princess treatment a few years ago. And yet, I can’t work up a lot of outrage over the unveiling of the unveiling of another princess movie. As I’ve said previously, it’s a big deal for black girls to see themselves in the Disney tiara for once. Adults can have valid debates about vapid, man-dependent representations of women, but from where I’m sitting, black females haven’t exactly had the luxury of being stereotyped as fair damsels in distress (See: “Snow White”).

Besides, if you’re a 5-year-old girl, chances are that you like slightly tacky things that sparkle. This is the age when kids are acutely aware of gender differences, and some of them embrace the most obvious symbols of those differences — like princesses — with a vengeance. It would be nice if popular culture would help us out, but it’s up to parents to teach our children to get past that — and that it’s more important to be competent, confident and kind-hearted than to look like Sleeping Beauty (or Zac Efron). I’m much more worried about the bullshit yet to come, like when she turns 10 and hears her friends talking about going on diets and wearing whatever junior trollop gear the stores are peddling.

I’d prefer it if my daughter didn’t like pink quite so much, but that’s more my problem than hers. She loves her some Cinderella and Belle, sure, but she also swims and does gymnastics. She digs Wonder Woman and Supergirl — her costumes of choice the past two Halloweens — and she is far more self-assured than I was at twice her age. I seriously doubt she’s growing up with the idea that sitting around looking pretty adds up to a meaningful life.

My daughter has plenty of time to learn that being a princess is a fantasy that has little to do with being a woman. For now, I'm OK with her enjoying the sparkle.

How About We See The Movie First?

When we took the kids to see "Up" this weekend, we got a look at the trailer for Disney's upcoming animated film, "The Princess and the Frog." This is a big deal, because the movie features Disney's first African-American princess, Tiana. Having grown up in the Obama era, my children have no idea how significant this is. But I couldn't help sneaking glances at my 4-year-old daughter C. to gauge her reaction. She didn't say anything about the princess being "brown" — her term for herself — but she was clearly stoked. C. is all about the princesses.

Old Disney movies, products of their time, have had some howlingly racist moments in them. But the company isn't stupid, and it wants Tiana & Co. to make lots and lots of money. Think of the dollars to be made in merchandising alone. Disney needs black parents and their daughters to like "The Princess and the Frog."

That's why I'm a little annoyed that people are already branding the movie racially insensitive (See the New York Times story here.) Critics say it's wrong to set the fairy tale in New Orleans because of the Katrina tragedy and — Jesus Christ — that the prince is too light-skinned. Seriously.

True, the prince isn't easily racially identifiable, as he has straight hair and tan skin. But that makes sense, given that New Orleans has long been a multicultural city. And so what if he's not black? I hate to invoke Barack Obama (again), but given that our president has a white mom and an African dad, isn't a bit silly to demand that the prince look a certain way? To be perfectly honest, it's more important that Tiana herself has clearly African-American features and dark brown skin. The female beauty standard in this country still skews Caucasian, so when the person wearing the tiara doesn't, it matters. The powers at Disney (or at least their consultants) seem to understand this.

More to the point, I wish people would wait to see a movie before condemning it or accusing it of all kinds of offenses. Maybe the movie will make me cringe in horror when I see it, or maybe it'll just suck. Until then, I'm going to assume that Disney wants Tiana to take up residence in my home alongside High School Musical and Phineas and Ferb.

I Have A Bad Feeling About This

My husband claims that I'm a movie snob, but I really don't know enough about film to qualify for the label. While my tastes tend to skew Miracle 5, I will not turn down a well-executed blockbuster or mainstream movie. Plus, I own "Twilight," so that's a blow to my credibility right there.

However, there are certain kinds of movies that I almost always refuse to see. Anything overly earnest that beats me over the head with "uplift" is a non-starter. But even worse are movies whose promotional posters might as well say, "You're a chick, so you'll like this." I might make an exception if I really like the actress (Isla Fisher's "Confessions of a Shopaholic" comes to mind), but not even Ann Hathaway could persuade me to see "Bridal Wars." Kate Hudson was in it, and she seems to specialize in the kind of films I'm allergic to.

Which brings me to "My Life in Ruins," a rom-com starring Nia Vardalos of "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" fame (Never saw it). My friend M. sent me a link to the trailer with the note, "I dare you not to throw up." Wow. It's like someone put "How Stella Got Her Groove Back," "Under the Tuscan Sun" and "Hope Floats" in a blender and added an extra helping of cliches. I knew it was headed downhill when Vardalos' wacky heroine revealed, "I came (to Greece) to reconnect with my soul. Find my mojo." For real?

By the time the trailer faded out to the strains of Natasha Bedingfield's "Pocket Full of Sunshine," I did feel a little queasy. But this movie will probably make gobs of money, so what do I know?

Can The Jonas Brothers Get A Little Respect?

I Like The Jonas Brothers.

There. I said it.

Like a typical, cranky Gen-Xer, I had a negative first reaction to the squeaky-clean brothers when they became megastars in my household last year. I assumed that they were pretty Disney androids who were being propped up by killer marketing and Casio keyboards. This came on the heels of "High School Musical" and "Hannah Montana," so I was not in a charitable mood.

But I was wrong. Has anyone noticed that they play their own instruments, like, pretty doggone well? Or that Joe (the "hot" one) is a great frontman, especially when he ditches the whine at the end of a note? Or that the lead songwriter, Nick (the "cute" one) is only 16 years old? Paul McCartney wrote "Love Me Do" when he was that age, and while it was not exactly the Beatles' best tune, it's on all the "Greatest Hits" compilations.

I listened to a lot of music last year, and their CD "A Little Bit Longer" is just plain good. I defy anyone to listen to "BB Good," "Burnin' Up" or the Chris Isak-y "Lovebug" and tell me with a straight face that those aren't swell pop/rock songs. OK, maybe their Grammys jam with Stevie Wonder wasn't awesome, but the fact that a) they know who Stevie Wonder is and b) cite him frequently as a musical idol ought to count for something. I guess you could argue that their song lyrics are a little on the shallow side, but I wasn't exactly thinking about fair trade when I was 16.

Some of my friends are shocked that I keep coming to the Jonas Brothers' defense, or that I can even tell them apart. But I think they're judging them based on things other than their music, and assuming that musicians associated with Mickey Mouse can't possibly be good. (For the record, I was kind of annoyed with Russell Brand for making fun of their purity rings, though I suspect Nick, Joe and Kevin will come to regret giving the public that kind of information. See: Spears, Britney.)

It's early yet, so it's entirely possible that the Jonas Brothers will morph into assholes or fail to grow as artists. But I'm optimistic. In the meantime, I plan to enjoy that 3-D movie of theirs with some young fans I happen to know.

Morons Are Ruining The Theater Experience

At some point during last night's viewing of "Dark Knight" at the IMAX, I decided that I am %$#@ing done with movie theaters, unless I absolutely, positively cannot wait for the DVD. I used to love the theater experience. Ever since my first life-changing, big-screen film ("Star Wars" in 1977), I have been an avid cinema lover. I still love movies. But I hate what stupid people have done to the communal experience of enjoying them.

I admit that I am easily distracted, so when someone comments incessantly during a film, it takes me out of the moment. It's the same with the glowing, blue screens of cell phones, even if they are silent. To go to a movie these days means dealing with this constantly, though the indie/Miracle 5 crowd tends to be much better behaved. I don't understand the point of paying upward of 8 bucks to have a conversation you could have had for free in your living room. Is it really necessary to text the equivalent of " 'Sup?" 10 times in the middle of a pivotal scene? Again, you're paying for this. This isn't a generational rant, because I enjoy a good text conversation. Just not while I'm at the movies.

But to me, the most egregious thing a moviegoer can do is to bring a small child to a thoroughly inappropriate film. At this point, everyone knows that "Dark Knight" features a brilliant and deeply disturbing portrayal of the Joker by Heath Ledger. People are shot at point-blank range, impaled with pencils, found dead in body bags. Oh, and we haven't even gotten to the part where Aaron Eckhart's Harvey Dent has half his face burned off. On what planet would it be OK to let your children, approximately ages 6 and 8, watch this - especially on a big-ass IMAX screen?

I tried to give the couple the benefit of the doubt. They were speaking a foreign language, so I thought it possible that they weren't as aware of the content as an American filmgoer might be. And then I decided that was ridiculous. This is a global blockbuster. And it's not like they left after the first, second or 14th act of violence on screen. At one point, the oldest girl was crying in her father's lap, her head buried in his shoulder. He was comforting her, but as I glared daggers at him, I longed to scream, "Why in the hell are you still here? Take this poor, frightened child home immediately!" Or as Christian Bale might say, "What don't you *%$&ing understand?!"

I was annoyed by the kids' high-pitched chatter, but it was almost impossible to enjoy the movie knowing that these girls were going to be exposed to so much scary stuff. And it's not like complaining to the manager would have helped, because small children are allowed to see a film like this as long as they're with a guardian.

The chattering, texting teens a couple of rows in front of us paled in comparison. But I kind of wanted to kill them, too.

Unless you have a high-tech home theater, I still think that nothing can replace the shared experience of seeing a great movie with others. And let's face it; some movies are made for talking back to the screen. But this kind of clueless, naked self-absorption has become noticeably worse in the last decade. I feel old saying that, but it's true. Just one more thing for the ailing movie theater industry to worry about.

I Want This Girl To Be Famous

Why isn't Fefe Dobson a household name like Rihanna? More to the point, why didn't she exist when I was 15 years old? A Chucks-wearing brown girl who rocks and channels Joan Jett? Who lists Guns 'N Roses, Bob Marley and Depeche Mode among her musical influences? Are you kidding me? That would have changed my life. At the very least, it would have made me aware that, somewhere outside of my hometown, there were other young women of color who spoke my language. I kinda didn't figure that out until college.

When I first noticed the biracial Dobson a few years ago — around the same time fellow Canadian Avril Lavigne's star was rising — I was certain her profile was about to blow up. I'm not the only one, because Kanye West said something similar a while back.

I'm practically old enough to be Dobson's mother, so I'm a wee bit out of her demographic at this point. Nevertheless, I love her style, and she's still out there performing some mighty catchy songs like "Watch Me Move," which is my new jam. She's also still very young, so maybe she'll be a big star by the time my kids are old enough to buy their own music.

Until then, rock on, Fefe.

Would You See This Movie?

This is a nifty, fan-created poster for the the live-action Wonder Woman movie, which, apparently, is never going to be made. The image is a little static for my taste, but the poster is proof of WW's passionate fan base. Meanwhile, Hollywood yawns.

Warner Bros. is releasing a direct-to-DVD animated Wonder Woman movie in February, and while I'll probably buy it, my excitement has waned considerably. Stiff-looking animation and a reheated storyline (From princess to warrior!) are a long way from "Dark Knight."

I admit that much of my affection for Wonder Woman is rooted in childhood nostalgia and the fact that she's a positive female character in a genre not known for its progressive treatment of women. I still feel like I don't know much about her beyond her fierce warrior status, beauty and desire to protect mankind. But for the right writer, that could be a good thing. Wonder Woman lacks the baggage of characters like Superman, who is tethered to an annoying love interest and a back story most people could recite in their sleep. (Maybe the next Superman flick can focus on the implosion of the newspaper industry, which forces Clark to take a buyout from the Daily Planet!)

At this rate, Hawkman will have a big-screen film before Wonder Woman does. Not that I'm bitter or anything.