We've all seen one famous face after another tumble down the rabbit hole of peer pressure, cultural expectations, show business demands, sheer vanity, fear of death, revulsion of aging and the simple miscalculation that the only beauty is youthful beauty. It's a heavy burden.
Perhaps follow Roeper's implicit advice: Read the Gospel of Luke.
Have you noticed that these events have gotten so much more human? The quest for viewer engagement and the inclusion of the viewer in the viewing has made these events not only so much more fun, but also more real.
Yes, it can be appalling to see people aging ungracefully, even desperately. And duck lips and smooth but unmovable faces can look disturbing. But what I find even more appalling is ageism. The dread of losing youth and looks, projected into disgust with those who try to fight it.
"My Brother's Keeper" frames education and jobs, as the way to equality and that is simply not the case. It will not protect them from White fear emboldened by guns on street corners. It will not erase minstrel-like narratives reproduced in media.
In more recent months, an uprising has begun to form at long last. In a society where shows like Fashion Police are celebrated for cutting people down, isn't it time we take a stand?
If you watched the Oscars, you could not help but notice and be moved by the spirit of optimism and positivity that was pervasive throughout the ceremony.
I came to a realization on Monday morning, after the Oscars: I don't think I have what it takes to be part of the two-screen world. Which, increasingly, is what we seem to be living in.
It's now been nearly 18 hours since the last Academy Award was handed out, which makes it an old story in today's hyper-accelerated news cycle. But here's a final observation -- a question, really -- before Sunday night's relatively unmemorable gala fades from memory forever. Why were the only two films to deal with financial scams also the two surprise shut-outs of the night?
I was really surprised by Matthew McConaughey's Oscar acceptance speech at the Oscars. I've attended a handful of the award shows, most recently the N...
Have you ever wondered how A-listers celebrate after the event? Who throws the parties, who attends, where are they at?
This career about-face fuels the perception that McConaughey has entered a realm untouched by any thespian, ever. Recent chatter places him in the same league as cinema's titans -- Hollywood's Mount Rushmore -- individuals who helped pioneer acting as both a craft and a calling, not merely a profession.
I won't dispute the fine work that McConaughey and Leto did in Dallas Buyers Club, but I can't shake the feeling that their intentions as artists were more about winning Oscars and less about telling the story of people dying from AIDS.
Another over-long, self-aggrandizing paean to itself is over, and today we're blearily cleaning up after last night's party, washing dishes still thick with themed leftovers (12 Years a Beer, Filotomena, Star Trek into Meatloaf), wondering what actually happened. And why.
Usually, you root for your favorite films and actors, and if you're interested -- the writers and directors. Now, that you have some time to kill until the next award show, it's time to school yourself about the other, less glamorous categories.
Most SoCal residents are sedate, middle-class people with just a hint of craziness to them -- that quiet spark that drove them long ago to pack up and leave the East Coast/Midwest/Deep South to pursue their pot of gold right here in the Golden State. And this brings us to It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.