Spike Lee vs. Madea

If you find it impossible to keep track of all of the celebrity feuds, let me draw your attention to one that's gained my attention - that between director Spike Lee and Madea, actually the creative spirit behind Madea, actor/director/empire builder Tyler Perry. Spike Lee has accused Tyler Perry of peddling the worst in racist stereotypes of African American culture, calling Perry's Madea movies tantamount to the old "Amos and Andy" routines. And at a recent press conference to promote the latest installment of Madea's misadventures, when asked about the criticisms leveled against him by Lee, Perry answered, "Spike can go straight to hell!!" Not the level of discourse you'd expect from a man who has Oprah on speed dial!

The war of words between the two directors has placed many people on the fence. As the box office receipts tell it, audiences have a soft spot for Tyler Perry's movies. His films have grossed half a billion dollars, a testament to the loyal, mostly African American audience who flock to his films. But while Perry spins hard knocks inside of sentimental sweetness, Spike Lee has always been more art-house in his approach to the dilemmas of everyday existence for African Americans. Perry will give you a lump in your throat, but Lee will give you a bump on your head. Tyler Perry writes in the language of R&B, while Lee gives you a symphonic tone poem fused with Charlie Mingus.

I grew up watching Spike Lee's films. They were events and my generation remembers the day that we waited in line to see Do the Right Thing, School Daze, and Jungle Fever. His films made us angry, yes, but they also made us think about race in a way that was different from how our parents thought of it. He managed to make poetry out of the violence and frustration of a generation. When you left the theater after a Spike Lee movie, you felt introspective and reflective. There was no happy Hollywood ending, there was only the beginning of a new day. We'd spend hours in the dorms dissecting his films, looking for the moral and ethical threads that tied the characters together, and confronting the myriad ambiguities that Lee seemed to throw in our path at every turn.

I first learned about Tyler Perry at the hair salon when someone popped in a bootlegged performance of one of his stage plays (back in the days before camera phones and YouTube, the bootlegged concert tape was how things went viral!). The whole shop erupted in squeals of laughter and "oh no he didn'ts".  Tuning in to Black radio stations, I'd hear the commercials blaring the upcoming performances of the latest Tyler Perry production, but I was resistant to his charms. I held out until 2001 when Diary of a Mad Black Woman hit theaters and my mother insisted that I see it with her, my sister, and the aunties. It was the craziest roller coaster I'd ever ridden, from a pot-smoking, gun-toting, mumu-wearing six-feet-tall transvestite named Madea to the final scene ripped straight out of An Officer and a Gentleman, with the Richard Gere character swapped out for the hunky Shemar Moore. I was hooked - but I had to keep my affections on the down-low.

Both of these men tell the truth about the African American experience because there isn't just one Black experience. If the British, with their nobility, can still make room for the low-budget sci-fi world of Doctor Who and the dirty-minded slapstick of Benny Hill, then why can't I have my Spike Lee and my Tyler Perry? If the French, with their haute couture and haute cuisine can barely suppress a chuckle when confronted with the antics of Jerry Lewis, then why can't I have a little Brooklyn and the ATL?? And if Utah's biggest export of Donnie and Marie can be both a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll, then I declare that both Mr. Lee and Mr. Perry have dual citizenship in my heart and head. There - case closed! I'm just saying:)

Hollywood's "Daddy Issues"

So now it's official - 26-year-old actress Scarlett Johansson and 50-year-old actor/activist/abuser of paparazzi/ex-husband of Madonna Sean Penn are dating. Creepy though this is, it's also troubling, as we now have clear, incontrovertible proof that Hollywood has Daddy Issues. I know, you're wondering how can Hollywood have Daddy Issues? Usually, this term is flippantly reserved for ladies in clear-heels dancing for cash tips and implies that these young girls, so unloved and rejected by their fathers, will do anything to score an older man's attention and simulate that missing dynamic. What I mean, though, is that the rulers of Hollywood - the men who produce, direct, and star in films - love this myth, and if you're an actress with success on her mind, then you'd be wise to get with the program. Think I'm Just Saying is off her rocker???Let's apply this methodology to Scarlett.

Scarlett Johansson, with her throaty voice, plush lips, and curvaceous body has been compared to a latter-day pin-up girl, and a real-life Jessica Rabbit. She made her big-screen debut when she was only nine years old, encouraged by what looks to be a large, supportive family. But soon, like Britney and Miley, Scarlett the little girl became Scarlett the woman, and the Hollywood Hyper-Sexualization Machine was in full throttle. It was like the dirty old men that inhabit Tinseltown had been lying in wait, anxiously wringing their hands over what they would do once this precious little thing reached the legal age of consent! And while the rumor mill linked Scarlett to names such as Benicio del Toro (a.k.a. the Puerto Rican Brad Pitt) and Justin "[Junk] in the Box" Timberlake, her actual connections with older men show an interesting pattern.

Her role in Sofia Coppola's "Lost in Translation" had her playing the romantic lead opposite Bill Murray. Look, I loved him on "Saturday Night Live" - I even liked him in "What About Bob", but the fact that this man was 34 years old when Scarlett was born??? That's creepy!

Let's move onto another movie starring Scarlett - "Girl with a Pearl Earring," where she plays a young maid and inspiration for the Dutch painter Vermeer's 17th Century painting by the same name. Colin Firth was cast as Vermeer, and the story takes on the rather traditional turn of the older man teaching the young woman and guiding her to understanding her blossoming sexuality. Sounds rather sweet, doesn't it - until you realize that Colin Firth was 24 years old when Scarlett was born!! That's one more point for the creepy side.

And then there was Scarlett's three-movie arc with Woody Allen ("Match Point", "Scoop", and "Vicky Cristina Barcelona") - she may have earned a PhD in the Creep Factor with that! I'm sure that he and his ex-stepdaughter/wife Soon-Yi Previn, and their 34 year age gap, served as constant sources of inspiration for Scarlett! In one of the creepiest quotes ever, Woody Allen, when asked about his impressions of Scarlett during the filming of "Match Point" described Scarlett as "sexually overwhelming." She was 20 years old at the time. That's Double Creepy!!

By the time Scarlett announced she was getting married to actor Ryan Reynolds, who is 8 years older than her, we thought "great!!" Yes, he was older, but we were thrilled that the age gap hadn't hit double digits. This is progress people!!

But soon that progress was put to the test when Scarlett headed to Broadway to play yet another sultry, under aged seductress to a hard-edged, older man in Arthur Miller's, "A View from the Bridge." The chipmunk-cheeked actor Liev Schreiber was 17 years older than his leading lady, and while the critics heaped praise on the inspired casting of this production, all I could think was YUCK!!

Last year brought with it the end of Scarlett's marriage to Ryan Reynolds, and now she's back in the saddle with yet another Old Raisin! Hollywood's old coots must be beside themselves with joy for their Lolita myth has been restored. Maybe she and Sean Penn can do a remake of "Love in the Afternoon", with Sean Penn in Gary Cooper's role and Scarlett replacing Audrey Hepburn. Don't know what the story's about? Well, an older, more sophisticated man meets a younger woman who discovers her blossoming sexuality.....I'm just saying!!

Hey Ladies, Where's Our Hall Pass??

At some point, between the first time and the second time that the ad for the movie, "Hall Pass," I started to feel a slight twinge in my right forefinger. That twinge became a persistent poking that had spread to my entire right arm by the fourth or fifth viewing of the "Hall Pass" ad, and by the seventh viewing, I figured that I'd have to either change the TV channel, or scream my head off. "Hall Pass" stars an ensemble cast of c-list actors from television sitcoms, including that guy who looks like that guy from "The Hangover", but who's on "Saturday Night Live" in that red Adidas track suit doing the Running Man in that skit with that guy from that show that was on Nickelodeon. But I digress! "Hall Pass" is about a group of men who are given permission by their wives to indulge in a voyage of debauchery, with the understanding that after their romp, they'll return home to their significant others, fully sated.

What the wha??!!

I wish that "Hall Pass" was unique, but, sadly, it's just a carbon copy of "The Hangover", which starred that guy who's not Josh Lucas or Matthew McConaughey. And you might as well add in "Cedar Rapids" while you're at it, which, from its trailers, appears to be a mash-up of "Porkys" and "The Office"! In each of these movies, the men folk are free to roam, set loose on an open prairie populated by scantily clad ladies and a convenient and abundant supply of booze, snacks, and stripper poles. There are some ladies in these films who manage to keep their clothes on, though, and these women are called The Wives. They pop up at the worst possible moments, like when their husbands are having a good time with the scantily clad ladies, booze, snacks and stripper poles!

By the end of these films, the boys return home from their lost weekends, with a renewed and profound love for their wives. Sounds great, huh? HELL TO THE NO!!

So here's my question: where's my hall pass????

Answer: ask Thelma and Louise.

You all remember the film, "Thelma and Louise" don't you?? It's about two girls gone wild, out on a crazy tear after one of them suffers physical abuse at the hands of her significant other. Of course, this film doesn't include a cameo by boxer Mike Tyson, and the two titular heroines choose to hurl their car into the Grand Canyon rather than be caught alive! So here's the "takeaway" for us ladies - no hall pass for us!

You won't see "The Hangover Part 3: The Book Club Hits the Strip Club" anytime soon, or "Soccer Moms in Vegas" or "Bunko Gone Bad" at the local cineplex. You see, the sad truth is that when we think of women getting together and letting their hair down, we confine our thoughts to chardonney, shopping, and the spa.  We don't get a hall pass because why would we need one? We are the Thing Planners, the Schedule Keepers, the List Makers, in short, the responsible ones. While men will be boys, women will always be women, at least that's how it is in the movies. But maybe that's not really what bugs me about these films. Maybe, it's that these movies are telling a truth, all be it from one point of view. I'm just saying!

Baby Mama Drama during Movie Night!

Silly me, thinking that a late movie on date night would be a child-free zone! I found out 15 minutes into the film how wrong I was when the first "wa-wa-wa's" erupted from the nosebleed seats. The outburst lasted for 3 minutes, that's 180 seconds - an eternity in movie years! A secondary eruption followed 20 minutes later, this one accompanied by the hurried steps of Baby Mama darting towards the exit carrying the irritated infant. I could see the outline of Baby Mama and child, as she attempted to rock the baby into better humor. It seemed to work, and so Baby Mama and child began their assent back up to their seats.

All was quiet, save for the rustling of hands into tubs of buttery popcorn and the onscreen happenings of Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston, when the little one had another meltdown, exploding into a torrent of tears and ear-splitting shrieks and that's when the Mothership LOST. HER. MIND!! Only, it wasn't directed towards her baby, rather it was aimed at someone else in the nosebleed section who must have made a comment about the baby because Baby Mama responded with a very loud, "Well, just MIND your damn business, then!!"

Now this isn't the first time a stranger has sought to intervene when a baby has gone nuclear. We've all been there when a pint-size terror throws a toddler tantrum while mommy and daddy stand stricken and humiliated. Some of us coo at little Kiddie Kaboom in a vain attempt to quell their madness with kindness, but there are times when, frankly, no one wants to hear your child.

There are different schools of thought on how best to deal with a child-gone-wild. Some opt for immediate removal and containment, taking the little one out of the situation at the first whimper. You'll notice these people, as they'll insist on sitting nearest the exit with their coats on, in a perpetual state of high alert. These, I must admit, are some of my favorite people!

There are others, though, who take a more wait and see approach, preferring to let a few whimpers and unhappy gurgles go unchecked, and using a mixture of techniques, including rapid leg bouncing of the tiny tot and shifting the little one between parents. They'll stay until the frequency of nasty looks and the chorus of throat-clearing from observers drives them into sudden awareness that their child's behavior might be a bit annoying.

But the worst are those who dig in, and, even while their child is in the midst of an epic foot-stomping rage, they are steadfast and immovable. They seem dulled to the hysterics of their child, or maybe they've become so accustomed to it that they're like the Borg from Star Trek: "resistance is futile!" 

One of my friends who's a mother of two falls into the immediate removal and containment category. Her philosophy is that there are certain situations where it's not a good idea to have baby on board. During the toddler years, she and her hubby had a no fancy restaurant policy - unless they had a baby sitter at home with the little one. Kids were left at home with one parent while the other made the weekly grocery store trip - in fact, the same policy was in place for mommy's hair dresser appointments and trips to the mall and the movies. I'd tell you her name, but she doesn't exist:(  But maybe, just maybe, she will one day. In the meantime, when you find yourself staring down a one year old on a mission to ruin your trip to see the latest R-rated thriller, just make a note of the nearest exit - you're going to need it! I'm just saying:)