Short and to the point

Maybe it’s just the cosmopolitan hepcats with whom I so often roll deep, but lately I have heard more than one person express their opinion that shorts, in general, are an immature and silly article of clothing.

My feelings about this phenomenon are quite clear. If it is a very hot summer day, I am going to wear shorts. If it is ever a hot summer day and I am wearing shorts and you are judging me for wearing shorts, silently or otherwise, I hope that you drown in the acrid grundle sweat pooling in your fashionable trousers.

Mother: The Finale

iamachilles:

Mother is having its final show on September 27th, 2008. For the uninitiated, Mother is the longest running New York improv team and one of the best improv teams ever, period. With Mother moving on, that means the “Big 4” house teams — The Swarm, Respecto Montalban, and Monkeydick are the other 3 — will have retired from the UCB stage.

Mother was one of the first longform improv teams I ever saw, and they are a huge part of why I fell in love with the UCB Theatre and its approach to improvisation. As a sophomore in college in 2004, I ventured down to NYC with my Syracuse improv friends to explore this mystical “longform” thing. Mother’s show had me in tears from start to finish, and not only that, it was a different kind of laughter - a deep, surprising, wholly fulfilling release. The whole show was pervaded by this wild sense of discovery that was, at the time, totally new to me. Mother showed me the door to a house I love to play in, and they will certainly be missed.

How many times can you "return to form"?

With Vicky Cristina Barcelona doing well, The Hollywood Reporter ran an insightful article pointing out that every time Woody Allen makes a good film, critics hail it as a “return to form.” This cliche backhanded compliment does seem like lazy journalism, especially since he made Match Point in 2005, and that was also hailed as a “return to form.” If a guy writes & directs 30 movies, and twelve of them are really good, well, he’s written and directed twelve really good movies (twelve more than most people). Cut him some slack.

I think it’s particularly interesting that Woody is hounded by this phenomenon, given that he’s vocal about the fact that he never watches his own films after they’re released. He’s passionately against becoming nostalgic about his own work, which stands in stark constrast to the critics who can’t stop referencing his past. Of course, it’s possible that both patterns of behavior cause each other to continue in perpetuity.

On the internet, we deal with a similarly amusing phenomenon on a much smaller scale - every time CH creates something successful, there’s a massive public expression of surprise. I suspect that the brand name is at the root of the problem, but how many times can people say “I usually hate CollegeHumor, but this was actually good!” before someone ventures to postulate that we’ve done more than one good thing? In other news, I just compared CollegeHumor to Woody Allen.

As everyone from Numa Numa Kid to Mike Myers will tell you, you’re only as good as your last product. And I suppose that’s what keeps us on our toes.

"I'd like that."

I have a theory about the phrase “I’d like that.” I think it exists only in romantic comedies, and if it is used in real life, it’s only because the person saying it is consciously imitating a romantic comedy.

You know the “I’d like that” I’m talking about. It’s the one that happens when two potential lovers have been through some trying shenanigans, only to emerge from them wiser and stronger and arrive at a tender moment in which Lover A asks Lover B if they would like to do something trivial, like “get some ice cream,” that actually indicates the beginning of something much more meaningful. And Lover B looks up at Lover A with that twinkle in their eye, and says: “I’d like that.”

It’s a unique line of dialogue that occurs constantly in TV shows & films, and nearly always in the exact situation described above. Understandably - it’s understatement, it’s subtext, it’s charming. And I’d be willing to bet that many of us are unconsciously aware of it, and have used it at some point in our lives (in romantic circumstances, that is - after all, when your friend says, “Want to do come with me to do laundry and grab a Filet-O-Fish,” you’re not going to look up at him with just a hint of a smile on your lips and say “I’d like that.” Your friend would likely recoil and say “Let’s not be so fucking tender about it.”).

But perhaps it’s not so bad to imitate a romantic comedy, if & when you have the chance. With one hand holding another and that twinkle in an eye, maybe it’s better not to worry about sounding cliche and just enjoy the fact that for this oddly specific moment, there exists a cheesy, breezy, perfect little phrase.

My Kind of Marathon