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Name: Jing
Birthday: 10/13/1986
Gender: Female
Interests: Writing. Watching movies. Sleeping. Sex.
Expertise: Writing. Yelling. Being obnoxious. Pedanticism. Idealism-bashing. Most things.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Medical
Message: message me
Member Since:
10/17/2002
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| The undeniable cluttering
and the inability to breathe
is overcoming him and his
naivete. It is masked
behind the reasons which he
considers to be honorable,
acceptable, romantic. But he
knows as well as I that it is fear
that is flooding his heart.
When he is lying not alone, not cold;
when he is not upholding the decaying
structure of delapidating love,
may he be cursed with the memory
of me. May his belief that destined
lovers will one day reunite eat him
alive. | | |
| “Hey, Lois,
diarrhea!”: Family Guy and the
Evolution of the TV Family
On May 1st, a phenomenon little known to viewers and rarely
considered by networks is about to sweep the nation. Family Guy will
once again grace our TV screens with rude banter and hilarious non-sequiturs.
This is only the second time in television history that a series has been
re-aired after its cancellation due to huge audience demand. The popularity of Family
Guy is undeniable: Its reruns on Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim have robbed
both Leno and Letterman of their late night male demographic, while the DVDs of
all previous episodes have flown off the shelves. FOX has picked up on the
cues, and made the very wise decision to resurrect a show with a cult following
that could rival The Simpsons. But why is Family Guy so popular
with the American audience? This can be answered by looking at the evolution of
the TV family and tactics of entertainment from idealistic portrayals of the
American Dream to scathing social satires, littered with pop culture
references.
As I recall from my childhood, shows about families were
very different from the comedic spectacles that they are now. The very first TV
family that I was acquainted with was the Seavers from Growing Pains, an all-American conglomeration of wholesome family
fun and upstanding morals. The family consisted of a mother and father very in
love and children who were supportive of each other, though of course they
fought. Parents were real role models, well-rounded people who were successful
and compassionate contributors to society. Problems were triumphed over by the
enduring love and morals that the family upheld, and everything was resolved by
the end of the show (unless it was one of those “to be continued…” episodes).
This is foundation of our generation’s family shows, shows
that we were all familiar with at one point or another in our lives. It’s
undeniable that we turn to them as the paragon for any typical family. After
all, shouldn’t kids respect their parents, get along, and learn lessons? This
what shows like Growing Pains and The Cosby Show, another grand slam of
family shows, are telling us: they are perfect families with perfect lives. And
we eat it all up because they’re light-hearted and fun, yet they still instill
in us a serious sense of comfort because we’re safe with their tolerance-ridden
and love-infested ideology. Somewhere along the way, the hypnotic effects of
television culture had us replacing our realistic values with these ideal
values what are often inapplicable in the real world, as lovely as they may be.
Sometime in the late 80’s, the networks began to recognize
the complexities of the American family. Shows like Full House, Step by Step,
and Roseanne strayed from the typical
TV family dynamic. In the cases of Full
House and Step by Step, the
fairly novel idea of the blended family was approached with some reasonable
skepticism, but maintained the general charm of the middle-class, suburban,
white-picket-fence archetype. We begin to see subtle accuracy in the portrayal
of family conflicts, though they are handled with a comedic flare, which
renders these situations as harmless. Although the Lambert and the Foster
children fight, their arguments are littered with jokes, gags, and other
gimmicks that serve to entertain the audience. Because it would be paradoxical
to take a joke seriously, these shows are essentially denying the crucial role
animosity often plays in families.
On the other hand, Roseanne took a completely different
approach to poking fun at family antagonism. Although the Connor family is a
quintessential family of mother, father, and children, they are unusual in the
world of TV because of their social status and defeatist attitude. An otherwise
depressing premise is pronounced a hit when humor replaces the gravity of
blue-collar poverty and irresolvable bickering. Suddenly, we realize we like
discord because discord is much funnier and more realistic than hugs and
morals. Simultaneously, we love it because it validates our own family
squabbles, which are really not so bad in comparison.
The first milestone in the modern portrayal of the TV family
is an animated series created by a caustic comic book author named Matt
Groening. His cartoon, The Simpsons, brought a new element to the table:
a satire of the everyday life of Americans. Perhaps this is best explained by
the fact that The Simpsons sprang from Groening’s own Midwestern family.
His own mother, father, and sisters were named Marge, Homer, Lisa, and Maggie.
Bart was based on himself, his name a clever scramble of the word “brat.”
Groening is persistent in making them oddly realistic, though they are
undoubtedly comedic extremes. Homer is a lazy blue-collar worker at the local
nuclear power plant who frequently gets drunk and behaves idiotically. Marge is
a borderline disgruntled housewife who makes do with a low income and
mischievous husband and kids. Together, they raise Bart, a troublemaking demon
child with a buried conscience, Lisa, the child prodigy who will never reach
her potential because of her family, and Maggie, a baby whose capabilities are
hidden by her ever present pacifier. A lot of their problems seem similar to
those of the classic TV family, but the approach Groening takes is completely different.
They experience the troubles that can plague any American family: Homer gets
accused of sexual harassment; Marge campaigns against violent children’s
cartoons; Bart gets a tattoo; Lisa protests against the misogynist talking
Stacy doll; And Maggie, Maggie shot Mr. Burns. Though often in the end they
come to a resolution, this resolution is frequently stems from their acceptance
of they own wacky inadequacies.
The best example of this is when the family decided to get
family therapy together. To the chagrin of the psychologist, they ended up
electrocuting each other until the building lost power. Later, after trying
another technique of hitting each other with foam bats, the doctor found
himself on the floor with a good blow to the head. And what was the solution to
the Simpsons’ problems? No, therapy did not help, but the television set
purchased by the money refunded to them did. Groening realizes, not without
derision, that TV is the emollient to all conflicts.
But the Simpsons are still an ideal family in many aspects.
No matter how dysfunctional they may be, they still go to church every Sunday,
even if it’s begrudgingly. Every holiday is spent together or with extended
family in a very traditional fashion. Though they may not hug whenever someone leaves
the room, they are always loyal and supportive of each other through alien
abductions, physical illnesses, and moments of fame. Perhaps Groening is
telling us that the family values which TV shows often advocate are not the
ones that are important. Dysfunction is realistic, even common, but that
doesn’t take away from real family values of love and loyalty.
Many of Groening’s messages would not be perceived without
the magnified possibilities of animation. The notion of dysfunction is further
enhanced by the absurdity that can be created through his medium. Many
resources unattainable on sets can simply be created by drawing them. This way,
it is easy for Bart to become a fly, or for the family to travel to the future.
Without the artificiality of a cartoon, scenes of violence and inappropriate
abuse could not be shown in an acceptable manner. If Homer and Bart were
actors, then Homer could not possibly strangle Bart onscreen without causing
great alarm and controversy. Real people can’t act this way, but cartoons
aren’t real; cartoons are funny when they’re violent as American animation
would have us believe (Bugs Bunny, Tom & Jerry, and many
others).
Most importantly, animation makes satire both easier to
execute and accept. Never before had a series been so blatant in their
recognition of cultural trends and the popularity of brand-name products.
Franchises such as the 7-11, Bush beer, McDonald’s, and Disneyland had all been
spoofed by the razor sharp wit of show’s writers in the Qwik-E-Mart, Duff beer,
the Krusty Burger, and Itchy & Scratchy Land. Lisa plays with Malibu Stacy,
the cartoon version of Barbie, while Bart idolizes Krusty the Clown, a parody
of Bozo the Clown. The satire does not stop here. Stereotypical roles are
fulfilled by every character: Mayor Quimby, the corrupt mayor, Principal
Skinner, the pathetic educator who still lives with his mother, Ned Flanders,
the annoyingly cheerful hardcore Christian and the Simpsons’ neighbor, Mr.
Burns, the town’s millionaire, and Nelson Muntz, the schoolyard bully. We
relate to these things that we recognize, and we laugh at and accept their
exaggerations because in cartoons, anything is allowed.
Then again, for the network, the best part of it all is the
sheer marketability of an animated series. No one would seriously buy a t-shirt
with the face of Bob Saget slapped on it, but to buy a shirt that proudly
displays Homer saying, “What’s the number for 911?” is not so farfetched.
Cartoons are legendary for their horizontal extension in stuffed dolls, hats,
t-shirts, mugs, lunch boxes, almost anything. And the use of these products
always includes a touch of irony because The Simpsons aren’t hesitant to
recognize their own ability to sell-out.
From the beginning, The Simpsons have acknowledged
their own marketability. They dryly satirize themselves through occasional
spoofs on behind-the-scenes shows, mostly hosted by fake television
personality, Troy McClure. This is essentially a primitive form of post-modern
self-deprecation humor that is the foundation of Family Guy. After the
success of Family Guy, The Simpsons significantly boosted their
use of this sort of comedy. The most memorable instance was the spoof on VH1’s Behind
the Music, Behind the Laughter. This episode featured the Simpsons
as a family who began starring in their own TV show, and eventually became
corrupted by fame. Not only did it ridicule celebrities, but also the show
itself, especially the marketability: Supposedly, Marge’s line of diaphragms
was not a big hit.
Family Guy
works on much of the same premise. In fact, many of the elements are incredibly
similar. Peter Griffin, like Homer Simpson, is a lazy, corpulent man who is
prone to stupidity. Lois is the levelheaded and skeptical housewife who is
constantly wary of her husband’s antics much like Marge. Throw in two misfit
teenagers, a maniacally bloodthirsty baby, and a cocktail-sipping, bon vivant
dog, and you have Family Guy, which in many ways is a parody of The
Simpsons. Like The Simpsons, Family Guy explores the spoof of
the dysfunctional American family, but at the same time, it realizes that the
family dynamic is only the groundwork for a successful show. In a way, it is
super-humorous because it satirizes something already hilarious when standing
alone. Family Guy would not be Family Guy without The Simpsons.
It takes full advantage of the fact that it is animated to
push the limits of absurdity. Seth MacFarlane, the creator, is frank with his
motives; in the opening sequence, Lois and Peter sing All in the Family style to a piano, “It seems today that all you
see is violence in movies and sex on TV. Where are those good old-fashioned
values on which we used to rely?” Split seconds later, the quaint domestic
scene bursts into musical glory as the family croons on a Broadway-esque stage.
The idea is simple: old values have given way to a family circus, on TV that
is. MacFarlane is not hesitant to exploit of this.
Though at first sight Family Guy appears to be a show
about a TV family, this is just a specious disguise. While The Simpsons
uses humor to reveal an accurate family dynamic, Family Guy uses the
family dynamic to create comedy since The Simpsons has already ingrained
in us the association of TV family with incredibly humor. This is the main
difference. MacFarlane does not have such noble intentions: MacFarlane is here
to makes up laugh, not teach us lessons. There are neither implicit nor
explicit morals to any of the episodes. In fact, when we expect to come to an
ethical conclusion, the show steers us into a gray area of hilarity. One
particular episode was on the brink of accentuating the dangers of smoking,
when we are suddenly led to a routine of making ridiculous racial remarks that
ends with “Canada
sucks.” But there is more to MacFarlane’s brand of obnoxious humor.
While The Simpsons was funny because it reminded us
of reality, Family Guy is funny because it reminds us of The Simpsons.
The real triumph of Family Guy lies in its ability to satirize the
biggest part of pop culture, which has mostly been ignoring itself until now.
The series is an interesting case of television mocking television mocking of
real life. It is a virtual pastiche of TV, movie, music, and celebrity
references that scoffs modern culture. MacFarlane shamelessly flaunts his
scatological wit with a constant bombardment of random allusions to mass media.
A repeated offender of intensifying and ridiculing well-known shows and
commercials, he never fails to point out the faux pas of old images and plots
that we are familiar with. In one parody, the classic Mentos commercial, which
usually features a cunning escape from a misdeed, is given an interesting spin
when the assassination of Lincoln becomes the butt of the joke; after John
Wilkes Booth shoots Lincoln at the theater, he runs away carefree while
flashing his refreshing pack of “Mintos” to the audience. It is self-deprecating
humor like this that keeps the viewer interested. After all, it is not enough
in our age of sophisticated comedy to just be funny; humor has to be taken to
the next level by the acknowledgement and ridicule of the comedy (a quality
that The Simpsons are desperately trying to pick up). And MacFarlane
does not let us down. Never hesitant to point out the show’s own social
blunders, he creates a setting where it’s okay to laugh because there’s no
moral to the story. That’s pure entertainment.
Networks have gotten wiser over time. With every flourishing
generation, TV shows would have to reflect the rebellion against the old ways
of life and the old ways of television life. In this sense, Family Guy is not just a funny show, but
actually a revolt against the revolt, reflecting our contemporary need to
recognize and ridicule our past naïveté. Family shows can no longer be confused
with family values: We all know we can’t have a white picket fence and a
perfect life. The fact that we ever did, quite frankly, is hilarious. Family
Guy has shown us that family shows are no longer about families; family
shows have become a mockery of families. Yet, perhaps they have always been
making a mockery of us. Were those “good old-fashioned family values” really
family values? As Peter Griffin put so deftly in words to his wife, “Ah, c'mon,
Lois, isn't ‘bribe’ just another word for ‘love’?” Yes, it is on TV. And kudos
to those who prosper from this realization. | | |
|
Why Sin City was really messed up:
I had gone to the
movies that evening, honestly, with relatively high expectations. Sin
City had looked quite promising (stylistically, at least). The opening
credits was the first step towards the the wrong path. Tacky,
unsuitable for the flavor of the film, the text roled across the
screen. At the mention of Michael Madsen, I perked up, hoping to see
much of him since he was introduced as if he were a central character.
The rest of the cast, mostly flashing in cheap film glory, was
nominically impressive, but lacking in substance.
Marley Shelton
slinked on a rooftop seductively as a dashing Josh Hartnett came up
behind her, babbling trite, pulp nonsense. The dialogue, to use
layman's terms, was corny and poorly executed.
Confusingly, the
plot shifts to a timeworn and sparse good-cop who is played dryly by
Bruce Willis (the role on him is ridiculously overdone like a dead
horse beat to post-mortal exhaustion). We meet Madsen's Bob briefly,
and are disappointed. Random violence ensues, and we catch our eye-full
of the first event of castration, which occurs at repeatedly at random
intervals throughout the film.
Again, the plot takes a drastic
turn to a grotesque, yet terrifically portrayed (by Mickey Rourke)
Marv, the epitomy of the city's grimy underbelly. Surprisingly, I
recognize his angel-whore from the teen movie, Slackers, in which she
played a sweet, blond girl-next-door (she's put on pounds and years
since). The story is played out rather absurdly. Yet, it is undeniable
how chilling Elijah Wood's role as Kevin the cannibal is. The
choreography is mediocre, but the gore is exceptional. Miller evidently
relies on shock value to capture the audience.
Clive Owen is the
next victim to Miller's lunacy. An actor who falls short of praise for
Arthur and Closer, is frankly horrible in his role as Dwight, a random
murderer. This reminds me of how horrendous Brittany Murphy is as she
never fails to be. Benicio del Toro, on the other hand, was amazing as
Rafferty, and later the corpse's head.
The scene shot by
Quentin Tarantino stands out painfully from the rest of the film. There
is more spark and whimsy in his fight sequences and character
interactions. Move over, Rodriguez. You're the wrong man for the job.
Tar pits, dinosaurs, Rosario Dawson in disgusting clothes. Shooting,
shooting, shooting. And a brilliant Michael Clarke Duncan. Finally, the
resolution.
I am relieved when we return to Hartigan's (Willis)
story. Madsen is back for the second and last time. Jessica Alba
prances in leather pants. She is remarkably dumb and useless. Quite
seriously, she is the character that stands out the least. The classic
damsel in distress is too easy to play. Nick Stahl is refreshingly evil
and rotten as Yellow Bastard (if only he had won the fight..). Not to
ruin the film (it does a fine job of that itself), but the old guy
saves the girl, and yadda, yadda, yadda, he dies. Thank God it's over.
Now,
what I really appreciated about the movie was the innovative style that
was used in cinematography. Honestly, I expected to be more dazzled,
but the undertaking was still admirable. A fair fraction of the acting
was solid: Mickey Rourke, Nick Stahl, Elijah Wood, Benicio del Toro,
and Michael Clarke Duncan. The cyclical pattern of narrative that occur
at the beginning and end also added a nice touch.
My problems
with this film were... numerous. First of all, Frank Miller should be
Freud's patient. His obsession with castration is a little more than
disturbing. Not to mention, all women were portrayed as hookers and
strippers, with the exception of Shellie, the dumb waitress. Heroes
were hard, jaded, imperfect characters. Now, after looking at Frank
Miller, it is safe to say he is insecure in his masculinity which led
him to create a world where the flawed man is noble and popular with
ubiquitous sex-ham girls. Real women are topless, chaps-wearing whores.
Rodriguez
was far from the ideal director for the film. Tarantino would have made
a better choice. The whole atmosphere had a specious quality to it;
though emulating pulp novels, it also seemed to unintentionally mock
it. Mostly, the dialogue was horrible, if not laughable, because of the
way it was approached: realistic and coldly serious. With the pop
culture savy of Tarantino, the film would have been gracefully executed
in a fashion that speaks to us of the dated aspects of the narrative,
along with the modern spectacles, with a whimsical flare.
In
conclusion, Sin City was poorly organized, poorly executed, and poorly
acted. But all in all it's a good show if you like demeaning women and
mindless violence. The novelty of Tarantino's brand of honest brutality
has been completely tarnished by the clumsy hands of Rodriguez. | | |
|
Eau de Parfum Rose
I am sniffing at the dry down
Beneath the dramatized notes
Of lilted roses and taffeta gowns
And happy love myth goats.
The first time that it happened,
Reprieve met decadent desire;
Second time that it happened,
Vacant blood boiled fire.
A vagueness beyond transcendence
Stabs jauntily in the heart
As your doubt in attendence
Tends to permeate into us apart.
I take your pallid hand in mine
And insert them in a vice;
Opaque tears cling at pain
No matter what frigid price.
My ardor for our adjacency
(Darling, do understand)
Rings true with specious decency;
Your wish my hedonist command.
If love were a matter of setting free
My affable blindness restirring,
But my last endeavor forcing me
To acerbic reality deferring. | | |
| Jezebel
In morning light, I must recall
Such events of the night before,
When my fair morals did befall
To such a delicate little whore
(Though I doubt I ever wanted more).
The silky velvet of summer night
As she slithered into quiet room,
And I breathing slow without sight
Was not aware of lascivious doom
That wafted in with her perfume.
Her quiet steps hushed by my bed
When she exposed and rested next
To my naive and dreaming head.
Not a thought or touch did I suspect
Of the her hair shining dark complex.
No sooner did I turn to her
Did she mount my quivering form
And I astonished felt her purr
As the world outside whirled in storm,
And the plush air enveloped us so warm.
Now stop me, friend, before revealed
Are the slight imprudences I committed
With a slinky girl and abrupt squeals
For all this debauchery cannot be admitted;
My sins I attempt to keep omitted.
I suspect when she descends the stair
Her salacious blush will stain her dress
And all will look upon her despair
When she fathoms my subtle disinterest.
She will regret her mistakened guess.
Carefully watch as she graces the chamber!
I have to concede my heart does flutter
When she breezes past without any anger.
My blunder forces my heart soft as butter
As she a zephir looks on without stutter. | | |
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