Aaaah, the fickle vagaries of the Song Choice . . .

Aaah, song choice. You temperamental bitch. You got ‘em good last night, didn’t you? You sweet talked them into choosing Songs Of Death, lulled them into tweaking with the rhythm, screwing with the arrangement, dared them to cut whole verses, and then danced merrily on their freshly self-dug graves. Last night - I swear - I could almost hear you cackling hysterically as one after the other, the Wildcards danced with the devil and lost BIG time. Why is this so hard? Isn’t it fairly obvious that you pick either a current well known song, or - if you pick something that is quite obscure - make sure that your voice suits it soooooo well that no-one even remembers that they didn’t know the song. Prime examples of this is both Chanel (wonderfully singing Portishead’s ‘Glory Box’. Sigh. Love!) and the CourtJester (a better version of ‘She Will Be Loved’ by Maroon 5 than Maroon 5's own version) in their Top 30 performances from last year. And I know I carry on about Chanel looooong past the point of everyone’s patience, but don’t you miss her? And the CourtJester? Not ONE Wildcard got it right last night. Not. One.

Idiots.

(The only thing that gave me joy last night was the first sighting of Marcia – Marcia dressed in the dark again!! And the fuschia lipstick made a reappearance, I think that might be my favourite Marcia lipstick EVA!! I hope she wears it always . . .)

Chloe (Who? The foetus in the short-shorts.) Finally Chloe goes and does something to make us remember her, but it’s the wrong thing. I’d like to think that Chloe’s mum immediately grounded her 16 year old daughter upon her first appearance on our screens wearing those tiny things. Even I felt like a dirty old man for perving on her and only one of those adjectives actually describes me. (And its not dirty or man.) If only her singing had been memorable. Or her choice of song. Or her outfit. I mean less memorable. Dirty Old Man Vote will not be enough.

Lindsay (Do you wanna punch him in the mouuuuuuthhh, ohhhh yeah!!!) Get off my tv screen. Go. Git. I don’t mean to be rude . . . actually, yes I do. Fuck off. What a crapfest of a song, sung with way too much gusto and teeth. *shudder* Screaming Metal Deadhead Vote will not be enough.

Roxane (Please, not another Ngairre) One of the two decent performances tonight, Roxane started off way too shaky but she picked it up by the second quarter of the song and RIPPED the glory note – hallelujah! She picked a crappy song – initially I thought that wouldn’t be a problem because her first song choice wasn’t great either but she sang that beautifully. She still deserves to go through, she was one of the best last night and if the audience doesn’t pick her (shame on you Australia!) then the judges better, because why should Chris Luder be the only Idol to get through based on stronger previous performances? Bridget Jones Vote should get her through.

Michael (Quelle surprise) I take back what I said about Michael last week, coffee is NOT the only thing he’s good at. If we assume that last weeks incredibly poor performance was nerves based then he must have been on valium last night, because he was really good. Lovely, haunting quality to his voice that served the song well. Poor song choice still though – I don’t remember a thing about the song, only that he sang it well. Barista Buddies Vote probably won’t get him through – maybe Judge’s Choice number one??

Lauren (Hey Big Spender) Why did 17yr old Millie get kudo’s from the judges for singing some old jazzy cabaret number, but then OLDER Lauren practically got spat on? Not that we’re not used to (SHUTUP) Marcia not making any coherent kind of sense from minute to minute, let alone from week to week, but still?? Lauren can really sing and it sucks that she keeps hamstringing herself this way. I loved the verbal smackdown she laid on the judges and then the extremely articulate undercurrent of ‘fuck off’edness she had whilst discussing song choice with Mathieson and G. For that alone, I would love her to get through but its doubtful. Harry Connick Jr Vote won’t get her through, he’s too busy in N’awlins.

Josh (check out my hook while the DJ revolves it . . .) Ew. Just . . . ew. I wanted to call Vanilla Ice and tell him all was forgiven and hey, when can we expect a new album, bro? Ick song, ick delivery, monumentally sucky. Stupid Teeny Girl Vote might get him through. Horrid thought, isn’t it . . . ?

Irene (She’s a red dye job away from being the star of a wacky, zany, antic laden sitcom.) PdiddyCakes loves this girl. Not her singing (although she doesn’t suck too terribly at that) but her Lucille Ball-ness. I like her singing. I don’t like her song choice, not now, not tomorrow, not when I’m 64, not EVER. The children may be our future but will they ever forgive Whitney for the schmaltz? Oy, the schmaltz. Zany Dead 1950’s TV Star Vote won’t get her through and I have doubts the judges will Choice her. (Yes, I meant to write Choice her)

James (Get him the number of a good orthodontist. Stat) Heeee, fricking awesome, my favourite performance of the night. But TallulahBelle, I hear you say, you HATED this guy last week, right? Yes, yes I did. And I hated him this week, but he was AWESOMELY bad. Soooo very very bad. He was flat, he can’t dance (ShutUP Marcia) and he tanked. Beeeeeeeewdiful. Also? Get your hands OFF Mathieson or Fosse will get very medieval on your ass dude. Greek Mama’s Vote may not be enough, but I fear he is a possible Judges Choice.

Emily (Its called Staying In Time. Look into it.) Seriously, did . . . she . . . start out of time? ‘Cause that’s what it sounded like to me. And the three other people sitting at Chez LulahB watching the crapfest that was Idol Wildcard. Strident. Out of time. Song about Zion? Yeaaaaaaah . . . . buh-bye Emily. People Who Know What Zion Is Vote will number exactly three.

Dan (Gimme the tune, gimme gimme the tune) Dan, a tip from me to you. Its not singing if you SHOUT THE WHOLE SONG. I know you and Lindsay wanted to do the same song and you couldn’t because he got there first blah blah blah – but at what point did you decide that if you can’t sing the same song as Lindsay, you could at least sound like Lindsay? Because that? Ain’t good. You were doing okay, even with the SCREAMING but the fear, oh, she got you good. You stared fear in the eyes and she kneed you in the crutch. Sympathies dude. Barnes-y Nolls-y Mills-y Vote might surpise us, stranger things have happened. If not, I’d say you’ve a good chance to JC because the Idiots, sorry, the Judges like you.

I’ve tipped Roxane, Dan and Michael because I think the Judges will choose two boys to try and even up the sexes for the Top 12, although I think only Roxane and Michael deserve to go through and any of the girls, but particularly Lauren and ComeOnIrene. None of the other boys deserve it based on last nights perfs. But Wildcard always surpises me, shocks me and makes me want to put my head in the oven. If Roxane doesn’t get through I will be hoarse tomorrow from my screaming fits of disbelief.

(Oh, and props to Red for last nights first ever Shut Up Marcia in the Chez Red household. You go girl . . .)

Ooops, I did it again . . .

Oops. I know, I know, I’m late. But I’ve been sick! Unable to type a word, let alone actually be semi-clever about it. And I couldn’t have predicted a different ending to the one that happened. The three singers I chose to go through in my Official Aus Idol Tipping Comp are the three who did – Lee, Natalie and DreadyDan. (If I’d set my tipping up in time – damnit – I would have been 8 for 9. As it is, Eupholoofo is leading the comp and FYI for those who haven’t met her in real life, she’s about the cutest thing ever.) But none the less . . . here ‘tis in all its glory (if I don't get too distracted by the cute boys of Fox8's Manhunt and lose my train of thought . . . )

Nat. Nat, Nat, Nat, Nat. Man, I hate that song. Light My Fire makes me hurl. (Ooh, maybe that’s why I’ve been unwell?? Shut up Jim Morrison.) I don’t care who is singing it. And then the arrangement? Gah. Double gah. I wanted to like her soooo much. I didn’t. She absolutely looked like a drag queen (not the last of the evening) and the saddest thing is she has a fabulous voice, but song choice sank her goooooood. No surpise she wasn’t top four and didn’t get a Wildcard.

Jeremy. Dude could not have looked more nervous. Before he went out to sing, Jeremy was sitting next to Mathieson on the couch and he was blinking frantically, a sure sign of stress and anxiety. No surprise that he then tanked with his song. Second worst performance on AI this season (after the hideous Laura. Fuck. How did she get through?? HOW??!!). He was flat and off key. He doesn’t have any charisma, none, nada, zip. I did a little dance of concern when they were handing out the Wildcards but I’m so glad Mark waved him buh-bye. Later, dude.

Lauren. Best. Shoes. Ever. So-so dress. CRAPPY song. Lauren’s performance reminded me why some people dismiss AI as nothing more than a mere national karaoke competition. (I usually point those people in the direction of ANY of Chanel’s performances and then dare them to call her karaoke, I'm such a fangirl!!) Watching Lauren’s performance was like watching one of those shows where taxi drivers from Manchester dress up like Elvis and sing Heartbreak Hotel. It was total impersonation – which is what Kyle then told her, causing me to scream at the tv for him to get out of my head. Seriously, starting to freak me out. Glad she got the Wildcard because she has a good voice. She rocked the glory note but she should sing Lauren. Not that she’ll get through Wildcard either.

Leah. Going to the adbreak before her performance, Andrew G called her the ‘magnificent Leah’. Yeah. Can someone give G a dictionary and a thesaurus and also a WordADay calendar? Thanks. Leah’s range is just too limited. All I could think was that she was going to struggle horribly with some of the categories they get them to sing if she made it through. Thank goodness she didn’t. Another nice glory note but the rest was out of tune and pitchy.

Joe. Haircut. Joe, please I’m begging you. Alternatively, put the beanie back on. Hair like that just begs to be made fun of, you big girl. Joe’s singing was blah. It wasn’t great, it wasn’t bad. It just . . . was.

Natalie. This girl has a bad case of The Mariah Complex. At least she didn’t trill the fuck out of too many notes. She started shaky but picked up fairly quickly and didn’t suck. Going into it I thought she would have to be really really bad not to make it through because she has the kind of voice that FM radio stations dig. She’s this seasons Ricki-Lee. Mean of Holden to give her the faux-touchdown, but I think he’s still pissed about the Laura thing (whyohwhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhyy?) and is taking it out on everyone. I’m a little okay with that.

Lee. Squeee! Is it wrong that I find him strangely attractive. Yes, even with that hair. He’s infectious, he has a gleam in his eye that I find compelling, sexy, hottttttt . . . sorry, I lost myself there for a bit. His song choice was great. Although it didn’t really showcase his voice, it did give us a sense of identity which is important at this stage – people want someone they like, to vote for. Boyfriend isn’t just a pretty, multipierced face, y’all (and watch G with him next time he’s on because G totally has himself a little same sex crush).

DreadyDan. Another song I just hate – the Commitments soundtrack has a lot to answer for, they totally ruined this song for me. I can’t listen to anyone sing it. Neil Finn could serenade me with it from below the balcony on which I would be reclining on a lounge chair with a Long Island Iced Tea in one hand as Tim from BB peeled and fed me grapes, and it could be the most beautifully sung masterpiece and Tim could be slowly undressing me with his eyes and I would rather hear Achy Breaky Heart and take a nap. I shit you not. Hate this song. Dan made me hate it slightly less. Nice use of the vocal cords oh dreaded one, I look forward to seeing what you do in the Top Twelve.

Emily. Ladies and gentlemen, our second drag queen of the night. This song did nuttin’ for me. It was choppy and made her voice sound a lot weaker than it is. She deserved the Wildcard, she can do much better than that. Although if she did make it through to Top Twelve, she’d be in direct competition with the diva we already have, Anne. With Anne and now Natalie, I don’t think there’s any more room left, we are chockful of Diva's. We have a Diva Overload. Heeee.

James. Gaaaaah, enough of the Callea freaking wannabes already! None of them have been anywhere near as good as the pint sized one and James is another example, although I think nerves got the better of James too. FINALLY! – Kyle and I disagreed on something tonight, because no Kyle, James could not win this thing. I wouldn’t have given him a Wildcard, but then I wouldn’t give him the time of day either (badoom chink - thankyou thankyou, I'm here all week, please remember to tip your waitress, try the fish).

So, yay for Lee and Dan, no surprise with Natalie and bring on the Wildcard show and Roxanne actually getting through . . .

A pox on both their houses.

The dreaded Vocal Gymnastics has been joined by its evil brother, Key Change, on my list of things to have hunted down and killed. Death, say I, to the Key Change. (I am taking a stand on this, shocking isn’t it?) DEATH. Why oh WHY do some of the Idolees feel the need to partake in this silly, show-offy grandstanding style singing? I remember last year when Emelia (sobbed) that she didn’t know you could do more then one Key Change in a song – after Anthony did about five billion one night – and then the very next week she (sobbed) four in one song. Gah. The only decent thing about that was that the sound of Emelia Key-Changing was also the sound of her death knell resounding around this great land of ours. Good times, kids. Good times. The Key Change got a couple of them last night too. Not Laura though, noooooo she was dead in the water well before Key Change got out of bed, shaved, had a coffee, looked around the room and decided to fuck with some kids’ future.

Milly – Girlfriend has a great voice, but she was cabaret all the way. Understandable, being that cabaret is what she does for a living, but lets not do that again Milly mmkay? She still sounded great and is a foregone conclusion to tonights top three. In fact, its not even about the top three tonight, its about which two got the most votes after Milly – even though I don’t think she was the best last night. Oh, and will someone give her a crash course in How to Sit on a Sofa Wearing a Short Dress and Not Flash the World Your Knickers. Thanks.
Ben – the two of us need look no more, we both found what we were looking for. And it wasn’t Billy freaking Joel. Look, he sang this well – give him the telephone book and he will sing it well. Give him Memories from Cats and he will somehow make it not sound like the absolute crapfest of a song it is (BACK OFF FOSSE). But Billy freaking Joel?? If he makes it through it will be like WiggleChris last week and will be on the strength of previous songs. Doubtful. See you at Wildcard.
Laura – I . . . just . . . sigh. This is so sad. On the one hand I want to crucify her for sounding the worst I think anyone has ever sounded on this show. I want to talk about how much pain Pattycakes and I were in listening to her. I want to marvel that even listening to Emelia I never wanted to turn the tv off as much as I wanted to when Laura was on, but duuuude. I think we broke her. That is to say, I think Kyle broke her. She should NEVER have gotten to this stage. Mark was absolutely right telling Kyle off for making excuses for her. She missed a lot of notes, she started in the wrong key and then good god almighty, she massacred the Key Change. She left KC lying in the middle of the room in a pool of blood and spittle. But I BLAME THE JUDGES and the PTB for not talking her out of that song. If I was her, I don’t know that I’d even bother showing up tonight. Buh-bye.
Victoria – my first thought upon seeing Vicky was ‘thank god someone else got to her make-up before she did’, my second was ‘va-va-va-vooooooom’ about her dress and my third was ‘oh dearie dearie me’. She wasn’t great, she didn’t suck as much as some of the contestants last week and it is an incredibly hard song to sing without sounding nasal and annoying. She missed some notes but she hit the big ones. I want to like her, I do. But I don’t. Possibly has an unfair X-Factor advantage – making it to Kate’s Top Five might have won her some exposure that might . . . oh, who am I kidding. No-one watched X-Factor. Might make it Top Four. Maybe.
Bald guy. Um, David. Just a tip David, could you NAIL YOUR FUCKING FEET TO THE GROUND. He twitched and futzed around on stage aimlessly and it frustrated me so much I didn’t listen to him singing, but I do remember thinking he sounded a little weak and that he should have done something by Stevie Wonder. Not a chance in hell. I think.
Roxane – you DON’T need to put out the red light, you will have a singing career. She was awesome (even in that shite outfit). Best bit? Fosse had spent the couple of minutes of her pre-song 'Lets Get To Know Roxane' bit slagging her off, but two seconds into her song he turned to Pattycakes and myself and declared his undying love. She nailed that song, she made sweet, sweet love to it, she took KC out for dinner and did him up against the wall in the restaurant. Awe. Some. Top three, or someone must die.
Kate – the love child of Renee Geyer and Sting. Nice husky vocal chords. Kate lulled me into thinking she was just another Queen of Mugging and then she shazaam-ed me with her song. Just great, but she needs to stop bollocksing around with her hair and letting them turn her into too much of a girl if she’s that uncomfortable with it. Deserves to be Top Three, but with Tarni making it through last week there may not be enough room for her.
Michael – I’ll have my coffee to go, thanks. He has a ‘nice’ voice. A weird accent, but a ‘nice’ voice. He is a prime example of 'the judges should have realised at the Seymour Centre that he needs a year with a good vocal coach before he’s ready for this kind of thing'. Which is almost exactly what Mark then said to him. I hate it when he reads my mind. Back to the barista-ing sweetheart, sorry.
Catherine – Call of the night goes to my homies :
Fosse : She’s very tall.
Pattycakes : Statuesque, would you say?
(awesome pause for best comic affect)
Fosse : Horsy.
We almost didn’t hear her sing at all we were too busy laughing but you may have had to be there. She was pretty okay, touch of the nerves but she still did well. Another example of the girls being much MUCH better than the boys but poor song choice letting her down. Not that it isn’t a great song, I love it, but it wasn’t for her. I’ll be surprised if she makes it through over Kate.
Rocky – oy. The Callea-isms. They just keep coming, don’t they? He did them all, the Anthony Callea Patented Closed Eye Head Tilt, the twitchy Side Leg dance move, the BoyBand Hand Reach and the WORST of them all, the Microphone Fluting. Callea-isms galore. Am I being punished? He wasn’t great, I don’t care how cute he is, or how buff his arms are – he was NOT great. He and Ben are the two guys most likely to get through, but he is the one who doesn’t deserve to.

So that’s it. Top Three If Tallulah Had Her Way would be an all girl Top Three of Milly, Roxane and Kate. I woudn’t be surprised though if Ben pulls a Pete the Pig Farmer and edges Kate out.

And ‘tis lovely to see Marcia took my advice of last week and let someone else dress her, although that dress/shirt/tent thing she was wearing was still ugly, it didn’t make me want to gouge out my eyes and replace them with olives. And however much people loved Mark’s purple velvet jacket it didn’t go with his shirt or the self-satisfied aura he exuded as Laura crashed and burned. I still can’t really talk about Kyle too much. He’s making too much sense. When my therapist and I have worked it out, I’ll let you know.

Better Top 12 then last year? I think not.

Last night definitively confirmed for me that to judge a reality show you must sell your soul to the devil. What other explanation can there be for Marcia’s ensemble last night but that due to the lack of soul residing in her body, she can no longer see herself in the mirror. Blood red blouse and nails, fuschia (pink) lipstick, the most hideous ugly bright blue necklace and a jacket that looked like it was left wet inside the Herald Sun. Ugh. (I spent most of the night yelling What Are You Wearing? at the tv screen every time she appeared and was therefore unable to issue many Shutup Marcia’s, mostly because I didn’t hear much of what she said. But I’m sure it sucked. Shutup Marcia.)
I am also almost certain that Channel 10 must have had Dicko held hostage in a back room with a gun to his head and a microphone to his mouth that led directly to Kyle’s ear, because some of the stuff he said sounded just like Dicko. It made sense. And yes, that makes me sad. Pattycakes hypothesised that Kyle had been asked to ‘tone it down’ for the first week, but that he may have taken it too far this time, but would no doubt be back amongst the scummy and mean next week. (Sidenote : Pattycakes would also like to report that he is slowly getting used to my screeching like a banshee during reality tv but would also like me to get over THE TRAVESTY that was BB05 and freaking move on. I have taken this under advisement.)

Ahem. Boy oh boy, or rather girl oh girl, because the chicks kicked the dudes collective ass last night. Yes, even Irene and Chloe. However due to the fickle, fickle, FICKLE voting public I feel sure that only one girl will get through tonight – most likely RockGrrrl Tarni. Possibly Anne will also have sweet sung her way to top three (wasn’t she lovely??) and I hope to be pleasantly surprised to find that to be the case. Anyway. To recap (in order of singing and not in order of awfulness although don’t think I wasn’t tempted) :

Dan : (Dan? Shannon Noll called and he wants his facial hair back.) I quite like this guy so I was a little disappointed that he didn’t totally rock out his song. He was quite obviously nervous and had the sucky job of going first, but still. Not great. He picked up towards the end of the song and hit his strides but I think it may have been too little, too late. Prior to the perf I thought he would be a shoe in for top three being that he’s cute and has the whole Shannon Noll vibe about him that people inexplicably liked in Shannon Noll but I think he may have to be wildcarded.
Jade-Lori : (I want to see JL and Julia Roberts have a Mouth Off. Biiiiig mouth, I mean the shark from Jaws big.) One Thing is one of my fav boppy teen pop songs at the moment and JL did okaaaaay with it. She didn’t make me want to dance so much but I was singing the chorus for about an hour afterwards so she may have stuck in people’s minds. However she has the unfortunate double barrelled name and most people can’t be bothered texting in the hyphen. No top three for her.
Lindsay : (Could join the Mouth Off, but only if he wears the Kiss makeup at the same time because that would be cool.) I don’t like this guy, don’t like his voice, don’t like his attitude, don’t like his song choice BUT I think Mark was UNFORGIVEABLY rude to him and will have landed him a few sympathy votes. His presenting of his arse to Mark for kissing may have struck a nerve with the same people who voted for Daniel Belle last year when he slapped Dicko and Mark down verbally. Potential to slip through despite icky song/performance.
Chloe : (Who?) Yeah, exactly. The chick who did the Kelly Clarkson song and seems completely devoid of anything that might make us remember her except for the fact that she has a good voice. Needs to mug more for the camera, she should spend more time with Irene, the Queen of Mugging. Pretty song, pretty singing but what was her name again? Doubtful.
Seth : (Thankyou, but we already have a Guy Sebastian) He did all the things I hate, vocal gymnastics, microphone finger fluting and he has a mullet. The Mullet That Ate 1987. He sang a blah song blahly. So of course Marcia loved him. Shutup Marcia. The girls may like him. Potential to slip through also.
Anne : (Damn gf, why are you wasting your time in this competition, someone sign her up NOW) Lovely, lovely voice. Perfect song, beautifully performed – she has the same problem as Chloe in regards to rememberability but unlike Chloe, she nailed her song and was great to watch. People will remember the voice. One of the two girls who should get through.
Joshua : (Craig David’s lawyers have contacted Channel 10 to ask Josh to cease and desist his Craig-lite impersonation. I heartily congratulate their speed and wish them well.) Absolute crap. Not a note was hit correctly, he was in the wrong key and looked like he wanted a cuddle from his mum. Too young. Too too too young. But the Brit accent and the admittedly, very cute smile may work with the girls. Another boy who doesn’t deserve to get through but who might. Gah.
Irene : (The Queen of Mugging - seriously, I checked I still had my purse and keys after she performed) This was not as bad as I thought it was going to be, but you can tell she’s done that song at karaoke a THOUSAND times. She also hit her stride by the middle of the song. The dancing was a bit much but if she doesn’t get through tonight - which I suspect - then she at least deserves a wildcard with Dan.
Chris the Wiggle : (Please get a haircut. I’m begging you.) The biggest disappointment of the night. I thought this guy was going to SAIL through to the top 12 but after last night I’m not so sure. I still liked it, but it was bland next to the perf he did to get into the top 30. He should buy as many rabbit feet as he can find and keep his fingers crossed. He can still make it into top three if people go off previous perfs.
Tarni : (Sweet Child of Top Three, here I come) The performance of the night. I made notes last night and next to her name I have written ‘pretty damn good’. The judges said she was holding back too much for her rockgrrrl image but I think she may have done that deliberately, trying not to freak out the mainstream audience too much. She deserves to be top three.

So there you have it, I want the top three to be Chris, Tarni and Anne but I don’t hold out hopes. The girls were two levels above the guys and deserve to make up the top three entirely but they probably won’t which is incredibly unfair. But I’ll just sit here in my own I Can’t Believe Tim Didn’t Win BB05 pool of bile, and fester bitterly - thanks very much.

Please please PLEASE, I've been EVER so good

In a few scant hours we shall know if Australia values intelligence and wit above a good body and the kind of ‘nice’ that your mother hopes you’d bring home, as Lefty Tim battles Gregarious Greg in a battle to see who will cross the Big Brother finish line first. (Actually, I’d like to think that my mother would be well chuffed if I were to bring young Tim home with me. I know my dad would be ecstatic for a labour, lefty son-in-law.)
My fingers are tightly crossed, my hopes are high and I will be MOST ANNOYED if he doesn’t win. Its been such a good time for reality television recently : first Casey won AI, then hunky NY Fireman Tom won Survivour, Kendra kicked Tana’s ass in The Apprentice and Uchenna and Joyce narrowly won The Amazing Race (also awesome just for the looks of defeat plastered across the faces of Rob and Amber.) Although there was only one of these winners who wasn’t what could be classified as an ‘underdog’ (who didn’t think that if he got to the final two that Tom wouldn’t win??!! It was practically written in the stars. Lordy, I miss that man . . . sigh), all of them were what I would classify as worthy winners who have had fabulous success and generally a really fun time. (Poor Casey. Poor, poor, poor Casey).
Tim is another worthy winner for me. Without a doubt my favourite Tim moment was the infamous Dean Slapdown (both rounds one and two), in which our hero Lefty Tim singlemindedly battled the vainglorious Doodoo Dumper of Evil with nary a thought for the fact that physically Dean could have snapped him in two. Instead Tim used his wits, his very big vocab and the fact that his toenail clippings have shown higher signs of intelligence than Dean, and verbally pounded him into the ground. Twice. On national television. With Dean's little piggy eyes flitting left to right in terror and fear spraying across his face as he slowly realised he had taken on an intellect he couldn't browbeat into submission.
Fucking. Gold.
If he doesn't win, I will cry. Lots.

Much. Very very much.

We’re not really off to the most auspicious of starts, are we? How exactly do they have 150 people after the auditions? They put only EIGHT people through from my hometown Perth – in theory I don’t have a problem with this, the less semi-talented kids who have their spirits broken in Sydney, the better – but they still ended up with 150? Just watching some of those final NSW auditions Pattycakes and I were aghast. A-ghast. At least 75 of them won’t make it through the first day at the Seymour Centre, hell they won’t make it to the mid-morning BREAK. Why waste their time? Tell them at the get go, at that first audition “Yeah, you can sing, but you need training first – go find yourself a vocal coach, train for a year and we’ll see you in ‘06”. Its what should have been said to Cosima before she butchered her vocal cords and ruined her chances in Season One and it’s a variant on what should have been said to Emilia last year. (Actually what should have been said to Emilia is a hearty “sod off you talentless gormless git and for goodness sake, STOP CRYING”. And yes, I still hear Dicko’s voice saying these snarky things. Man, I miss Dicko.)
I see no Chanel’s this season, I see no Ngairre’s, no Courtney’s. Dude? I don’t even see a Callea – say what you will of his taste in music, his appalling Johnny Young Talent Time-isms and his unwillingness to alienate his teen-y fan base by owning up to the Gayness That Is Anthony ( . . . allegedly), the little man has a good and technically proficient voice.
And I get that they don’t want another Casey, another too young winner with an awesome voice but no immediately discernible marketability who probably won't sell a bazillion badly written first single(s) and that THAT’S why they didn’t let through MultiPierce Girl in Perth (whom I personally thought had one of the best voices I’d heard audition ever, let alone this season.) I understood, I waved Casey Mk II bye-bye and only allowed myself to be mildly outraged, consoling myself with the thought that they were doing what they thought was best for ‘the competition’. I do not accept however, that pleading your case to God in front of the apparently easily swayed Marcia (as long as your name doesn’t contain the following letters, L C N A H and E), whilst being in possession of an, at best, mediocre voice and then being allowed through (??!! GAH.) as being good for this competition. Nor is singing Jimmy Barnes style at the top of your lungs with not even a passing thought for my speakers. Nor giving it the old Ricki-Lee Shriekerama treatment and having no regard for any and all dogs in the immediate vicinity. And if you’re young and pretty and look fine in a dress but don’t really sing terribly well, then the line to Australia’s Next Top Model starts over there. Just follow the trail of Kyle’s drool. But this? Is a SINGING competition.
In short : Judges, you need to drop the dross, of which there is sooooo much so far and let us see some actual singing. Contestants, you need to step it up (and in some cases step it off a tall building.) Before we even hit the Seymour Centre last year I had favourites that I retained all season, like water – Chanel and Courtney, take a bow - but this year? So far, it is much with the meh. I’m hoping they’re hiding someone’s light under a bushel, otherwise it's PigGirl and Mullfawk Milly all the way for me.

(and yes, you DID see Jakey B the Rock Kid from XFactor in the final 150. Don't be scared, I'm almost positive he won't be around for very long . . .)

I love Tim. Oh yes, I do.

Dear Australia,

It isn't often that we agree on something. I really liked Chanel last Idol season and you liked Casey (although as it turns out, you actually liked Anthony more, you just didn't want him to win, but that's okay - you're fickle, I've come to expect that) and I'm really quite vocal about my dislike of John Howard, but you seem to enjoy the little man so much you just can't resist keeping him around. Also, I think Nicole Kidman is shite and Cate Blanchett is awesome, but you only ever seem to want Nicole over for dinner.
I've gotten used to having a different opinion to you. Sometimes I don't even question it anymore, its just the way things are. I say potato, you say potato (you need to imagine that we vocalise it differently).
So why do we seem to agree lately on who needs to go from Big Brother? Glenn, Hotdogs, Dean, Rita, Kristy and now Kate. Brilliant.
I mean when this season started, I don't think I could have given you the name of even one person that I liked. You could have held a gun to my head and still I would have struggled. Eventually I think I might have muttered something along the lines of 'that chick from WA who seems to have a brain and doesn't get her kit off every five seconds.' But then I started to hear strange things about her, Margaret Thatcher love, Liberal Sensibilities . . . and I began to notice the funny looking thin guy with the strange upper lip. Words of more than two syllables spilled from his lips. He made . . . sense when he opened his mouth, he seemed not to join in with as much of the coarse behaviour and he tolerated the bullying asshattishness of the other males around him. Granted, he lusted after and then loved the right wing chick previously mentioned, but he still made it seem to make sense that a guy like him might like a girl like her.
I liked him. And then . . . without even noticing when or how . . . I loved him.
Now, it looks like he might actually win this thing and I need to know, dare I actually believe it? The only intelligent, modern, halfway decent human being in the house might win? Someone deserving? Sensitive? Forthright? I don't know what to say. I mean I'm grateful that we've finally agreed on something - not that it makes three terms of Howard** any easier to swallow, but hey! Its something, right??!! Its a start.
So I've contacted my lawyers and asked them to put a halt to the divorce proceedings and I'm moving back in. I think we might actually have a chance to save this relationship.
And I for one, am happy about that. I would have missed you terribly, opposing viewpoints and all.

love and kisses
TallulahBelle
xx

** I don't count the first term as a mistake, just the consequent three following . . .

Get your hate on kids, it's Australian Idol 3

Ahem. Let me get this out of the way upfront. I dislike Kyle Sandilands. Quite a bit, in fact. He frequently fills me with bile. I avoid his radio show at all costs and I wanted him to spontaneously combust when he was on Celebrity Big Brother. I find his attitude towards women appalling – he is a cruel, opinionated chauvinist (and I only find one of those qualities attractive – a pretty ribbon to the first person who guesses which one). Suffice it to say, I’m not a big fan. I am concerned at the damage someone like Sandilands might do to the first naïve, not so attractive, big boned seventeen year old who strays into his line of sight during the audition process. This is my extremely roundabout way of saying that should the planets align and Atlantis rise from the sea and I actually compliment or agree with something he says in the next however many months of Idol, then I really really agree with it. Cross your fingers that doesn’t happen . . .

Well. The first weeks auditions were twee, hideous, brave, foolish, hopeful, hopeless, sad and - at least two - were pretty damn good. And by pretty damn good, I mean I actually remember them two nights later. One of the good auditionees was QLD’s Pig-Girl (who hopefully will get enough screen time once we hit the top 150-odd that I will remember what her name is and can stop calling her Pig-Girl.) She gets extra points for pretending to stab Kyle, something I had screeched at the telly for her to do the instant she said she had killed pigs before.
Kyle? Meet your maker. Heh.

Second was Millie from Tassie, cute as a freaking button but with the worst fauxhawk I’ve seen in a while. It was like a mullet crossed with a fauxhawk . . . what would you call that? A mull . . . fawk? Luckily, her voice was awesome. Ditto Pig-Girl. They are quite literally the only two singers I remember clearly from the auditions without going back and rewatching.
I’m not going to do that. Gah.

I am choosing not to discuss in depth or detail the remarks made by the judges – there’s no point at this juncture, there were too many auditions, too many nasty things said and, quite frankly, too many freakin’ mediocre singers put through. And its going to be that way for a while, at least until the top thirty. The LulahB loungeroom was chockful of raised eyebrows and askance glances at some of the judging choices. Many a ‘huh?!’ was tossed around each time a prêt a porter/Kmart version of Beyonce was put through. And for the third year in a row, can we get a moratorium on vocal gymnastics?? They seem to get more pronounced and hysterical every year. Not to sound like Marcia or anything but SING THE FREAKING SONG. Just the song. Not the notes around the song, or the notes you can see in the song or the notes that Mariah and Whitney invented, just the song. The. Actual. Song.

(Speaking of Marcia, I clocked in at 7.48pm Tuesday night with my first Shutup Marcia of the season. I can’t remember why or how it came about, but may there be many, many more.)

Oh, and a HUGE thankyou to whoever loves me at Channel Seven – this Sunday night, a 90 minute MythBusters special about – squeeee - sharks!! and then a special anniversary screening of a film I’m kinda fond of. The only sucky thing is it will clash with the lovefest that is Tim on BB - huzzah for VCR’s, say I, huzzah.

To Do List

1. Compile list of epithets, curses, adjectives and ingeniusly composed phrases in preparation of slammin’ Kyle Sandilands on Australian Idol. Am actually looking forward to not hating Marcia so much this season. Bring it ON Sandilands, you talentless hack!!
2. Do taxes. Use money back on taxes to buy something pretty.
3. Research way to make Tim from Big Brother fall madly in love with me. I am WAAAAAAY better than Kate, Timmy!
(It occurred to me last night that maybe it might be better if he doesn’t win, that way when Smart Women of Australia – or S.W.A., I'm starting a club – THROW themselves at him, he will know its because he’s kind and lovely and is much with the wordage, as opposed to thinking its just because he won a million dollars. Which is what he will think!! - because he’s lovely that way and self deprecating and doesn't realise how great he is and how any woman would be lucky to have him and I'm worried he won’t appreciate that this is because he’s WONDERFUL. Ahem.)
*rushes off to refill valium prescription*
4. Relax, safe in the knowledge that I currently have no lines to learn for anything. Then run out and rent Educating Rita to brush up on Liverpudlian accent for upcoming audition.
5. CALL YOUR GRANDMOTHER.
6. Update and write new blog for recently terribly neglected site . . . huh.

Well. Will you look at that . . . *tick*

Just when you thought it was safe . . .

I’ve had many loves in my time. Some are new (the nieces E & I), some are steadfast and continual (the rest of my family, a good latte, sleeping in and the entire back catalogue of Crowded House), some are constantly renewed (George Clooney – sigh, be still beating heart, be still) and some are just . . . inexplicable (American politics. Don’t ask. I can NOT explain it.) One of the largest and most influential of my life is my love of films (and no, I didn’t intend this blog to be about movies every single time I wrote, its just what I’m usually most passionate about) and there are two movies that I can absolutely name as the source of origin. The first was the Empire Strikes Back. It had George Lucas before it seemed like he hated his fan base, a great love story, an awesome bad guy and some righteous heroes. The sheen has tarnished slightly on Episode Four with the First Three movies – only Ewan MacGregor has saved those for me – but I will still watch Empire with girlish, childish glee, loving the whole Leia/Han thing and digging the asteroid scenes. Even the updated version doesn’t terribly bug me. Empire will always be a great film in my eyes.

The other is my all time favourite movie - even though it has had some so-so sequels and one realllllllly awful one, let me tell you, a LOT of time has had to pass for me to forgive Michael Caine and Lorraine Gray for the fourth film – and it has sat at the top of my extensive and ever changing list of fav films for nigh on sixteen years and doesn’t look like giving up its spot anytime soon.
Jaws. *shudder* JAWS!! (In my head, I hear the theme music . . . )
My love affair with the Great White started with the book by Peter Benchley. It sat on my grandparents book shelf, this tattered little paperback, and the back cover proclaimed that the first six pages would keep you up all night (or words to that effect). I think I read the first six pages of that book a dozen times over the years of seven to ten, whenever we stayed at their house I would sneak it into my lap and surreptiously read. Let me tell you, the first six pages of that book are awesome. The death of Chrissy (stuntwoman Susan Backlinie in the movie) is told in grim, horrid detail. It gave me goosebumps.
By the time I was eleven, I was reading at an advanced enough age that my mum didn’t notice when I picked up Jaws and sat determinedly reading it cover to cover, one Christmas holiday in my not so mis-spent youth. (You would have thought that the black/blue cover with the massive shark aiming at the body of a teeny tiny female swimmer would have rung some warning bells but hey, I was reading all kinds of crap, everything I could get my hands on and I think it took me a day to read it anyway so she didn’t get much time to notice - hola mamma!!) I loved that book. I loved that book so much I took it home with me and read it again and again and again. I read it so much that the spine cracked and pages started falling out. I almost cried when I threw that book in the bin - but I didn’t because I already had another copy. Then another. I’m currently on my fourth copy of Jaws. The constant rereading slowed somewhat after I saw the movie when I was 15 but I still enjoy the book immensely. (The movie is slightly more satisfying in that Hooper isn’t such a butt head and doesn’t *spoiler* die in the movie like he does in the book – although you kind of want him dead in the book because he’s screwing Brody’s wife and Brody ROCKS.)
Book. Love. Movie? Freakin’ love.
I was fifteen when I first saw the Best Movie Spielberg Ever Made In My Opinion Thanks. I don’t know why I waited, I don’t remember if it was my parents who put their foot down about me seeing it (mostly because if I watched it, then my little brother and sister would want to see it also) or if I didn’t want to ruin the book, I don’t know. But my sister and I were babysitting some kids (also infamously known as the night of But He Looked Old Enough To Sit Up On His Own Without Me Holding Him) and my parents friends had left us some video’s to watch. Jaws was one and I leapt at the opportunity. I don’t think my sis was too pleased at my choice but by dint of oldest, choice was mine!
I sat on the edge of my seat as Chrissy went spiralling through the water pulled by the massive great white, I pulled my feet up onto the chair as young Alex Kintner came to a nasty end on a rubber yellow floatie mattress, I scrunched my nose when Quint scratched his nasty fisherman nails down the chalkboard at the press conference and I jumped pretty damn high when Brody was chumming and that big head comes out of the water leading to the immortal line (ad libbed by Roy Scheider) ‘You’re gonna need a bigger boat’.
DUDE. Spielberg took hold of my head with both his hands, cracked it open and poured in a love of films in the first 25 minutes of that film. The editing alone is SUPERB. Almost without equal for its time - especially since it was edited in Verna Fields summer house and done mostly by hand. Jaws was massively over budget, they kept waiting for the studio to shut them down because they were only getting an hour or so of filming done each day and Spielberg was convinced it was going to be a horrendous failure. Not the most auspicious start for the young 27 year old. He could not have been more wrong.
Instead, it was the first of the big blockbusters. It creamed the opposition in the box office and heralded the dawning of a new moneymaking Hollywood era. I have the 25th Anniversary edition and I hear that the 30th doesn’t have a lot of new stuff – but if you get a chance, the extra’s on the DVD are pretty cool. Lots of tales about how the shark was constantly broken . . . poor Bruce, he didn’t move too great, he looked plastic and he almost never worked properly but! the fact that they had such problems with him is why the shark is hardly ever seen – which adds fantastically to the atmospheric quality of the film.
I can rave on for ages about this film, about the scenes shot in a backyard pool, about all the adlibbing Robert Shaw did, including that brilliant scene where he talks about being on the USS Indianapolis. I can go on and on about shark triva, I can tell you the story of the two actors who played Mrs Kintner and her son meeting accidentally at a restaurant owned by one of them years later, I can point out Peter Benchley in a cameo appearance in the film. I can blather about how much I love the cheesy Jaws 3D - hee! and that I quite enjoy Jaws 2 as well for its teen horror feel. I can (and most likely will) rave about how the underwater shark scenes (live ones) were shot in the Great Australian Bite by Ron and Valerie Taylor. I can tell you how freaking angry I got the first time I watched Jaws The Revenge (gah) and Sean Brody died in the first ten minutes. The scream of 'but Brody's don't DIE' must have been heard all over the neighbourhood.
Sigh.
I love the bollocks out of this film.
Happy 30th anniversary Jaws. Thanks for all the memories.
Love Tallulah
xx

We're revoking your citizenship . .

Dear Russell,

Stop being such a wanker. Stop thinking you're sooooo fucking brilliant and come to grips with the fact that you need swift anger management classes. Someone please show this man the way to an intervention. Because dude? YOU'RE EMBARRASSING US. Keep making brilliant films that showcase your outstanding talents, have some more babies and maybe even take up Scientology but STOP with the rudeness and the fighting.
NO-ONE THINKS ITS COOL.
Just because you've won an Academy Award doesn't give you the right to be unforgiveably assy to those who work in the service industry. On the other hand, feel free to beat the living daylights out of all the paparazzi you can get your meaty fists on.

Regards,
TallulahB

The Nostromo leaves tonight at 20:45. Anyone wanna join me?

Everyone’s life is a movie starring that person. Maybe it’s Love Story or From Here To Eternity, possibly it’s Gone With The Wind or Bridget Jones (the first good one - unless you’re Schapelle Corby, in which case it’s the second not so good Bridget film crossed with Bangkok Hilton). If you’re lucky it resembles a great Katherine Hepburn/Spencer Tracey flick, full of scenes resplendent with great sexual chemistry and a crackling wit and intellect. If you’re unlucky, chances are its . . . well, Chances Are (Cybill Shepherd and Robert Downey Jr. Don’t try to picture it, it is JUST as horrid as you can imagine, this is a film that would have benefited greatly from Mr Downey doing a little speed).
Personally, I would relish the opportunity to say the Movie Of My Life is a less gory Pulp Fiction (where everyone references the pop culture minutiae that I love so terribly terribly much at the same speed as a Season Two Gilmore Girls episode - which . . . dude, is FAAAAST - whilst I harness the fuck off coolness of Sam Jackson.) I would even be excited if it was a watered down While You Were Sleeping (sigh - Bill Pullman - yummy) or a tepid One Fine Day (which, lets face it, was a tepid film to begin with, George baby, I'm sorry but it was). Hell, at this point I’d take a Woody Allen film, where a neurotic older man chases me. Or even Alien, where a man in a creaturefeature suit chases me.
However, it has become glaringly apparent that in the Movie Of My Life I am not the romantic lead, nor am I the revolutionary kick-ass 70’s heroine blasting wee murderous beasties into outer space. I am, in fact, the romantic lead’s Sassy Single Best Friend (SSBF). I am the buddy. I am the comic relief. (Good grief, am . . . am I Rob Schneider? No. NO. Noooooooooo, if I am anyone in the romantic comedy schtick oeuvre, I am PATENTLY Janeane Garofalo. Right? Blackly cute with lashings of bitter sardonic selfeffacing wit. Right? RIGHT?)
This sudden and startling insight was afforded to me at a recent outing with two of my dearest girlfriends to see The Wedding Date (Don’t see it. Do not go pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Read the book instead – Asking for Trouble by Elizabeth Young. Vastly superior, adorable little chicklit book. The movie? Oy, the suckage was astounding.) Sitting on either side of me was Red - who, with the recent purchase of Property has officially become Old Married Woman – and Gnomes, whose partner just got down on one knee and asked her That Question (to which, the answer was a resounding YES. FYI, I’m a bridesmaid – yay!) And watching this awful film version of a book I’m quite fond of, I realised that my single status has now been sufficiently long enough for me to consider myself properly cemented in most people’s eyes as 'that nice single girl that we work with who never seems to have a date’.
Which is not to say that the SSBF doesn’t quite often get a guy by the end of the film, as exampled by one of my favourite romcoms, When Harry Met Sally - Princess Leia and Bruno Kirby fall in love welllll before Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan get their act together in the final stages of that film. Another personal fave is The Truth About Cats & Dogs, where the SSBF (our girl, Janeane) is actually the lead of the film AND gets Ben Chaplin to boot. But the majority of the time the SSBF is either left in the wings with no real ending to her story (Bridget’s gfs don’t merit any romantic storyline at all – except for the odd mention of Vile Richard) or they get rushed into something with someone (see The Wedding Date’s SSBF TJ who at the end of the film is suddenly paired up with the lead’s exBF who we saw for about two minutes during the course of the film and has suspicious personal hygiene. Well, DON’T see it actually, but take my word for it, she deserved better.)
And I say, ENOUGH! The SSBF deserves more! She's Sassy, she's Spunky, often she's the only one who seems to have a sense of humour. Maybe she doesn't dress as well as the lead and often she's not the slimmest or prettiest girl in the world (once again, parallels people) but she usually has more fun. So if this is the film I live, then I want the SSBF Movie Of My Life to be the kind where I actually get the guy (and not two hundred cats and a reputation). Where is MY Ben Chaplin, hell, where’s my Bruno Kirby (he’s not so bad, let me tell you, the little guy is a cutiepie and has that Noo Yawk accent that I find so damned attractive). It is time for the SSBF to take back Date Night and make it hers again!
Alternatively, can someone point me in the direction of the nearest deep space mining vehicle in the process of answering a distress call? I feel the need to kick some alien beeeeeeehind . . .

SOB! Don't cry out louuuuuuuud . . .

Janice Dickinson gone from 'Model'
Contentious judge being replaced by Twiggy
NEW YORK (AP) -- Janice Dickinson is no longer in the running to judge who will become "America's Next Top Model." The loudmouth supermodel and author has left the UPN reality show and will be replaced by Twiggy Lawson on the upcoming fifth season.
"We would like to thank Janice for bringing her talents to the show and for everything she did to help us build 'America's Next Top Model' into its current success," executive producer Ken Mok said in a statement Thursday. "We wish her well in all of her future endeavors."
Dickinson, author of "No Lifeguard on Duty: The Accidental Life of the World's First Supermodel" and "Everything About Me Is Fake ... and I'm Perfect," was the most outspoken member of the model hunt's judging panel, dishing harsher-than-harsh critiques to contestants and getting into spats with fellow judges since the first season.
Also gone as a judge is stylist Nole Marin. He'll be replaced by runway expert J. Alexander, a former model who's taught catwalk technique and guest-judged in previous seasons -- or "cycles," the show's term for each installment.
Lawson rose to fame in the 1960s with her doe eyes and pixie hairdo, appearing on the covers of magazines such as Harper's Bazaar, Vogue, McCall's, Seventeen and Newsweek.
Dickinson will star in the next season of VH1's "The Surreal Life" with the likes of Jose Canseco and Bronson Pinchot. According to UPN, Dickinson also has a television production deal and is working on a new book.

I . . . but . . . huh? . . . whyyyyyyyyyyy???!!!!
*unfurls from foetal position and wipes tears from face*
How can this be? ANTM without Janice? I don't think I can go on. Who's going to bitchslap Nigel and Tyra? Who will be willing to throw their head on the judging desk in disgust risking post surgery damage? Who else could POSSIBLY say the things she says? Will Twiggy have had the requisite amount of plastic surgery and done enough drugs to render her brain the same scarily brilliant random place as Janice's? My dream that one day Janice would just tear Nigel's clothes off and engage in raw sweaty drunken ANTM sex is over. Shattered. I am so terribly sad.

Sorry? Nole's leaving too? Oh, well thats sad also, he's rea . . .lly quite insightful . . . nooo, he isn't. Hmmm. All I can muster for him is meh. But I will miss Empress Minnie.

Janiiiiicce . . . . *sob*

Mr Stipe?? I don't feel fine . . .

There are many signs that the four riders of the apocalypse are currently saddling up their steeds as you read this post. The death of the pope, the current crop of nuffnuffs (TM SuzieB) inhabiting the Big Brother house this season, Britney Spears/Kevin Federline breeding and the strange correlation between the success of alumnus from Saturday Night Live depending on the appearance of Drew Barrymore in their movie**. But perhaps the biggest sign for me is the fact that perennial Razzie Award winning director Michael Bay is reportedly re-making Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds.
Warning! Warning! Danger Will Robinson!!
“But Tallulah?” I hear you ask, “Whats so bad about re-makes? Everyone’s doing it – look at Amityville and Dawn of the Dead and Ocean’s 11.”
This is an excellent point. With the exception of Amityville Horror (which I haven’t seen even though Ryan Reynolds is currently THE SHIT and is so hot that he replaced Clooney in my heart for a WHOLE TWENTY FOUR HOURS after I saw Blade Trinity) Ocean’s 11 and Dawn of the Dead are pretty damn good re-makes. In certain area’s they even improved upon the original film. Jake Weber and Sarah Polley are flat out awesome in DotD and the whole cast of Ocean’s 11 deserved some sort of Cool Award, because that film was so cool that I got frostbite. Hee.
However, these were re-makes of cult classics. Not everyone knows/has seen the originals of these films – in fact, I have to cop to never having seen the original DotD in its entirety and quite frankly the original Ocean’s 11 is just baaaaaaaad - Academy Award winning performance in From Here To Eternity aside, Sinatra just wasn’t a great actor. So these were good re-makes that were only potentially going to step on a few geeky toes.
But I just don’t understand the reasoning behind re-making The Birds. It’s a great film (if slightly dated in its look, but that’s to be expected with special effects laden films, even Jurassic Park looks a little dated now) and it isn’t just a cult classic, it’s a Classic. Capital C. You don’t fuck with the Classics. I mean, are we to expect a Godfather re-make in fifteen years?? Jaws? Alien? Gone with the Wind?? (Seriously, if someone tries to re-make Jaws or Alien I will personally get medieval on their bottoms). You don’t re-make a Classic, which I believe all concerned in the Psycho re-make now realise.
Oh, sorry. Psycho homage. Shut up, Gus Van Sant.
The Birds isn’t Hitchcock’s best – not by a long shot. That spot is reserved for Psycho (although my brain just flashed to Vertigo and Rear Window and is now arguing fiercely and pointlessly with itself) and if the re-make – oh alright – homage of that film didn’t work, how is re-making The Birds going to work? If Gus Van Sant directed, it would be closer to okay because he is still a pretty great director but it would still reek of the Hollywood Cash In. But MICHAEL FREAKING BAY?? The man is a hack. Pearl Harbour was a ridiculous, hideous mess of a film and he doesn’t deserve the opportunity to remake my BED let alone this Classic film. Erk. Double erk. And excuse me whilst I revisit my lunch, because MICHAEL BAY!! – aaaaaaargh.
So bring on the apocalypse and make it quick, before this travesty hits my local Cineplex and I have to waste a months wages on buying eggs to pelt at the screen.

**One day I plan to make a chart of some kind, because seriously? Adam Sandler and Jimmy Fallon + Drew Barrymore in The Wedding Singer and Fever Pitch respectively = good films and box office success. David Spade needs to hook up with this chick (and we as a collective audience need to forgive him for all those awful films with Chris Farley. And also, Dickie Roberts, because . . . duuuude). Will Ferrell seems to have been the only one to have reached the dizzying heights of making movies with Nicole Kidman without the aid of Ms Barrymore - and I’m not sure if that deserves our congratulations or our sympathies, because I’ve seen the trailer for Bewitched and I can smell the stink from here.

Happy Birthday

Sigh - to my sweet sweet sweet George. Happy 44th birthday. Don't get too drunk out with Brad, Matt, Ben and Julia - remember she has twins at home now so she can't stay out too late. And if Who Weekly and New Idea report that you were cavorting around with some young, nubile blonde thing at some garishly hip and trendy nightspot, I'll try to remember that its really me you love . . .

PS - Umm, while we're chatting. Oceans 12 was okay and I loved the Tallulah shoutout from Bruce Willis, but? Don't push it. Please pick a really good next film.
Love and Always Your TallulahBelle

You really don't like her that much, do you?

I’m not entirely sure what I’ve gotten myself into.
Let me explain.
I’ve eagerly agreed to be in a play a friend is directing through a fledgling theatre troupe. The fledgling is not the issue, neither is the directing friend : but I’ve now read the play and Holy Camole! I’m on stage for the whole freaking thing.
A rough outline : it is approximately 68 pages long, after I subtract the five pages where I don’t interact with the other two characters (although I am still on stage), we’re sitting at 63 pages. Approx 33 lines(ish) to a page translates to roughly 2244 lines in total. At least a third of those belong to the other two characters, which leaves me with 1496 lines to learn. Now, for anyone who has never tried to learn lines for a play? This. Is. Scary.
Scarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry.
Don’t get me wrong, this is an amazing role and (so far) a fabulous cast/crew that I’m working with. They’re mostly known quantities because I’ve done stuff with them before, and recently. But the Daunting, oh, the Daunting. And I’ve learnt significant chunks of Shakespearean dialogue in under three weeks so I can handle a bit of pressure (you know, not to toot my horn or anything – hee, toot toot!), but this? Ohhhhhhhh, the Daunting.
Normally, I highlight the text to help me with learning lines but I’m thinking it might be more useful at this point just to highlight the other characters lines. (Not to waste highlighter fluid needlessly or anything, bearing in mind that we’re currently experiencing an epidemic of global proportions.) And I’ll still do my usual tricks ie leave it until the last minute/in the car on the way to rehearsals/taped to the non-wet side of the glass shower partition/forcing people in the lunchroom to run lines with me.
But hey. It’s a challenge. And ultimately that’s what I look for when I audition for a part. You don’t want every character you play to be the same, unless you’re Gwyneth Paltrow, and then apparently it doesn’t matter because they’ll give you an Academy Award regardless of the tripe you make rather than give it to the incredibly worthy Australian chick playing a Virgin Queen who didn’t have the advantage of growing up calling people like Spielberg and Michael Douglas ‘Uncle’ (I’m just guessing).

Heh. Line learning with a side of bitter, anyone??

The death of a legendary character - Hunter S Thompson

One of the saddest things about my generation (and the generations to come) is that the majority of under 35's have never read a Hunter S Thompson story (or Kurt Vonnegut or Erica Jong or Virgina Woolf or Ernest Hemmingway - the list goes on). The closest they've been to one (and I count myself amongst that number and will repent at the first opportunity as I've always meant to read Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas and Fear & Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72) is a slightly above average - at least I think it is - movie starring Johnny Depp. The only gen xers who even noticed the passing of HST are entertainment whores (like myself, who hang off the CNN webpage) and the ever shrinking literati who prefer their Profound Important Literature with a short black macchiato and a goatee. (I'm so jealous of them.)
Such a sad sad sad indictment of my generation that we prefer Stephen King (who, to be fair, is a great fixture of popculture for my gen) and gameshows to a writer who provokes real discussion.

These quotes prove that Hunter was a man after my own heart . . .

The Fix is In,' Nov. 27, 2000
"There was one exact moment, in fact, when I knew for sure that Al Gore would Never be President of the United States, no matter what the experts were saying -- and that was when the whole Bush family suddenly appeared on TV and openly scoffed at the idea of Gore winning Florida. It was Nonsense, said the Candidate, Utter nonsense. . .Anybody who believed Bush had lost Florida was a Fool. The Media, all of them, were Liars & Dunces or treacherous whores trying to sabotage his victory. . . Here was the whole bloody Family laughing & hooting & sneering at the dumbness of the whole world on National TV. The old man was the real tip-off. The leer on his face was almost frightening. It was like looking into the eyes of a tall hyena with a living sheep in its mouth. The sheep's fate was sealed, and so was Al Gore's."

Fear & Loathing in America,' Sept.12, 2001
"The towers are gone now, reduced to bloody rubble, along with all hopes for Peace in Our Time, in the United States or any other country. Make no mistake about it: We are At War now -- with somebody -- and we will stay At War with that mysterious Enemy for the rest of our lives."
"It will be guerilla warfare on a global scale, with no front lines and no identifiable enemy. . . We are going to punish somebody for this attack, but just who or what will be blown to smithereens for it is hard to say. Maybe Afghanistan, maybe Pakistan or Iraq, or possibly all three at once. Who knows"?
"This is going to be a very expensive war, and Victory is not guaranteed -- for anyone, and certainly not for anyone as baffled as George W. Bush. All he knows is that his father started the war a long time ago, and that he, the goofy child-President, has been chosen by Fate and the global Oil industry to finish it Now."

The Bush League,' Sept. 9, 2003
"Why are we seeing George Bush on TV every two hours for nine or ten days at a time, like some kind of mutated Mr. Rogers clone? Something is dangerously wrong in any country where a monumentally-Failed backwoods politician can scare our national TV networks so totally that they will give him anything he wants."


Bat country indeed . . . rest in peace Mr Thompson.

Good Works

It has been reported by CNN and other news media outlets that in the wake of the tsunami disaster in Asia, people have been donating money to charities in droves. One American charity featured on Foxnews said they had received more money in one hour then they normally receive in a six month period. People are emptying their wallets, their bank accounts and their piggy banks to donate to this incredibly worthy cause. The general public in Britain has donated more than their own government is forking out. Australian donations have been both meteoric and record shattering. In the first few days Jackie Chan donated $65,000, rockers Linkin Park donated $100,000 and yesterday Sandra Bullock donated one cool million dollars to the Red Cross Tsunami Appeal (the same amount she gave after 9/11). The sheer numbers being donated are eclipsed only by the horrific number of dead that also keeps rising. People are for the most, trying to do good works. Unfortunately for every white hat worn in the wild wild west, there is usually a black hat on the horizon. A Canadian student tricked a freelance journo in the US to donating the domain name tsunamirelief.com by purporting to be from a non-profit organisation. The journo was subsequently a little taken aback to see that the same student was auctioning the name on Ebay for $50,000. (His mother has come out and said he always intended to donate the money to one of the charities, however he has since withdrawn the site from auction). There are unsubstantiated reports of child trafficking in some of the remote regions, stories of people walking into hospitals and taking children with them. (I sincerely hope this turns out to be false or one of those urban legends that pops up in times of disasters but MSN are reporting that a Swedish boy may have been taken by a pedophile). And the blank resignation I see on the faces of the survivours, I am also starting to see reflected by the journalists sent to these areas. Hardened men and women - who have seen the worst we can do to one another – are visibly crumbling under the sheer weight of the day to day horror and devastation they are witnessing.

For those of us not in the trenches, who watch from the sidelines and the relative safety of our couches and who can do nothing else except review our budgets and see if we can give just a little bit more, do these numbers actually mean anything? Do they really hit home? Or is the sheer hugeness of the number of dead – almost one hundred and fifty thousand – too abstract for us to conceptualise? I can ruminate on that number and by itself it almost means nothing. It is tragic but it doesn’t really hit home. It’s just this really big hideous number. It isn’t until the tragedy is personalised that we feel an immediate emotion – usually gut wrenching sadness - in the heroic stories of people risking their lives for strangers, the shots of orphaned children in hospital beds and the shellshocked expression of the Swedish Prime Minister as he struggles to hold back the tears at a news conference. Our sub-conscious protects us from a true understanding of that number, because if we could process it we wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning. Instead, it instructs us to be a little nicer to our kids, smile more at strangers on the street or on the train and to give until it freaking hurts. And with the dollar figure Australians are projected to give currently thought to end up over 100 million, our good works can be said to be very good indeed.


Oxfam – 1800 034 034
Red Cross – 1800 811 700
Care – 1800 020 046
World Vision – 13 32 40
UNICEF – 1300 884 233

Australian Idol - And The Winner Is (23rd Nov, 2004)

Several things struck me about the grand finale and I wonder if I’m the only one.
1. It was way too freaking long. Come ON already guys just BLOODY WELL TELL US who won so they can put Criminal Intent on – its not going to be Chanel so bring on Det Goren.
2. Too many performances were either dull or just plain bad. I would personally rather watch the Duffy sisters (whom I think are magnificently taking the piss) interviewed on 60Mins than be subjected to Flynn EVER AGAIN. (In fact, could someone give those two girls their own tv show?) The ‘supergroup’ of Ngairre, Liza, Carlos, Adrian and Guys less talented doppelganger - were just plain sucky – out of key, out of sync with each other, no-one was backing the other up adequately and basically? . . . no. Just get off the stage. Now. Oh god – no, don’t come back, especially not with Maaaaaarcia!! (Dislike of Marcia aside, she is still a great live singer – so okay, she can stay. And Ngairre too. The rest of you? GET OFF. Have they announced the winner yet?)
3. I really honestly truly don’t feel like I need to watch Casey/Anthony’s Idol Journey again. (And AI producers, if you’re going to crown her Our Idol, best not to show her fucking up Eleanor Rigby again. Until Mike Munro interrupts the final rehearsal of Casey Donovan's Comeback Tour of 2034 for a This Is Your Life Idol Special, we don’t want to see it again. Possibly then we’ll be able to laugh about it - but I doubt it.)
4. Please find following a list of words/phrases to be struck from next years format :“awesome journey” “girlfriend” “boyfriend” “after the break” “touchdown” “unforgettables”New phrases to be implemented include:“Dicko’s replacement, our new judge Chanel Cole” and “ following the unexpected disappearance of Marcia” (In the probable eventuality of not being able to raise the funds nec for this, an acceptable substitute of simply Shut Up Marcia will suffice. Is it Anthony or Casey!!?? Oh, its another ad break.)
5. Emelia has been taking singing lessons. Amali is still just about the cutest thing ever to come out of Tassie. Dan was never really very good, was he? Angie should have made it to at least the top five. Ricki-Lee has a secret, I suspect it’s a signed recording contract. Daniel still desperately needs a haircut. Marty has somehow gotten quirkier. Hayley adores Chanel and vice versa. Courtney still has one of the sexiest finest voices I have ever heard. (Nothing new struck me about Chanel, she still sounded great, looked wonderful & was the most interesting thing about the fifteen hour finale. Seriously. Do we know who won YET?)
6. . . . did Guy Sebastian win again?
7. The lesson is “less is more” (ah, the irony for Substantial Response Girl). Less Marcia (please god), less waffling and cut the Monday show to half an hour and stop torturing these poor kids!!
8. Aaaah Detective. Now who killed this man? Really? His wife’s hairdresser’s boyfriend’s son’s third grade teacher? Interesting - and you solved the case in under an hour you say? Can you host Australian Idol next year????

Australian Idol - Mediocre Midget Vs Bohemian Belle

Animatronic Ant Vs Gorgeous Goth?
Boring Boy Vs Divine Diva?

I could go on, but I think you might be able to guess who I preferred last night. I can forgive Casey the forgotten lines in her song (although as a performer I find it unforgiveable, I give her a break on this one because she had to do three songs and unlike Anthony, she also has school to go to) but I refuse to forgive mediocrity.

Hellllllllllo . . . . Anthony. Its finally hit me who Anthony reminds me of. The robot boy that Haley Joel Osment played in A.I. His emotions have been programmed in and don't ring entirely truthfully - the reason he never forgets HIS lines is because he has them scanned onto his retina. It also explains why he does the same moves over and over again. He hasn't received the Justin Timberlake Version4 upgrade yet. Honestly. He IS a much better singer technically, but I'd rather scoop my eyeballs out of my head with a dirty soup spoon than listen to an entire album of that level of schmoopy. He did three songs that were almost exactly the same. Three ballads. THREE. For the love of mike why didn't someone STOP HIM - hang on - no, my mistake, he did sit on a stool for one, so they were slighty different. And I may have blacked out for a second from the horror, but WAS HE SINGING THE SONG FROM KARATE KID TWO? Ohmigod he was. In the immortal words of Summer from the O.C. - ewwwwwwwwwwwwww. He bored me. Bored me STUPID.

Casey. Okay so I'm a little Casey biased now due to the fact that I now have to take insulin shots from listening to Anthony all these months. She's Obiwan Kenobe in Star Wars (Episode Four) - she's my only hope. The first song was great and raw and powerful, the second was insightful and sung quite prettily, and good god, she actually made that AWFUL Dianne Warren song sound like it wasn't written whilst Dianne was in the midst of a diabetic coma (and don't question how someone could write whilst in a coma, if you've ever had the misfortune to catch the theme song to the new Star Trek series Enterprise, then you know she does it all the freaking time).

So I voted for Casey. Several times. Annnnnd I also voted once for Chanel. Just in case. She can still win, right? (Did you see Chanel sitting next to Daniel in the audience? Aaaah, young love. And Fosse noted that Ricki-Lee still looks REALLY REALLY REALLY angry. Get over it princess.) And James Mathieson Freudian Slip'd Courtney's name instead of Anthony's in the final two at the end - guess we know who he was voting for . . .

As an end to my musings I leave you with one final Shut. Up. Marcia. Dicko, please take her with you when you go and drop her into the shark pool at Underwater World. They're just nurse sharks, they'll only bite her a little bit . . . (Go Casey. Kick his tiny little robotic ass.)