Freelancette

My apologies. I haven't Strip-Rocked in a while because I've been recovering from the debilitating laugh-attack brought on by last week's "30 Rock." Oh man, the "Jack-tor" episode was funny stuff. I haven't cackled like that since watching season one of "The Office" (the British version). You know, I thought Tracy Morgan/Jordan was the comedy powderkeg of that show. He still is, but last week, he was joined by Alec Baldwin's Jack Donaghy and Jane Krakowski's Jenna Maroney, who totally blew things up.

The highlights:
Tracy's chronic tardiness, lack of commitment and refusal to study his lines leads Liz to fear that he can't read. Her suspicion is bolstered by a hilarious "clip" from one of Tracy's hit movies, in which he delivers several lines of pure gibberish (which sounded as meangingless on the fourth listen as they did on the first) with hilarious earnestness. But after days of Tracy using his newly-discovered "learning disability" to leave work early, Liz tricks him into revealing that he's not illiterate -- he's just lazy. Take that, you silly white lady!

Speaking of silly white ladies...Jenna, feeling overshadowed by Tracy, is whipped into career paranoia by the other writers. She becomes convinced that Jack is about to fire her. In an effort to save her skin, she resorts to her tried-and-true-weapon, her "sexuality." She tries to seduce a man she believes to be Jack's boss with sultry come-ons and a heaping teaspoon of... non-dairy creamer! It's priceless.

Back in the writer's room, Jack has asked Liz and the rest of the crew to start incorporating product placement into their skits through positive mentions, or "pos-mens." After winking their way through the obvious yet still funny follow-up (gratuitous Snapple name-dropping), they come up with an idea to write a semi-satirical sketch about product placement, starring Jack Donaghy as himself. Here's where things go off the rails. Despite his cool-as-a-cucumber demeanor and his seemingly successful debut in a company film, Donaghy is hopeless. In an effort to save his boss's ego, Donaghy's assistant shows Liz the secret outtakes from the company film. Stiff and suited, utterly serious, Donaghy trips, he stumbles (literally as well as figuratively), he mangles his lines (I think at one point he actually called for "racial segregation"), he even has trouble walking naturally on camera. It takes over 100 takes to get a few minutes of usable film, and I tell you, I could have watched every last one of them. Baldwin's Donaghy is cringe-worthy and hilarious. He's his own straight man, and he appears to be as surprised as we are at how bad of an actor he is. But he persists in trying again and again. And again. And...

Like "Studio 60," this week's "30 Rock" took on big social issues like bigotry, white/leftist guilt, the power of female sexuality, and the uneasy symbiosis of art and commerce, but it did it with a light touch. Instead of hitting us over the head with a lesson in political correctness (like "Studio 60" did that Monday), it knocked us out of chairs with great skits, brilliant comedic acting and sly puns. And isn't that exactly what both of these shows are about: using television to hilariously spoof contemporary American culture?

Posted by Corrie at 9:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It’s a sad day for journalists, critics, progressive thinkers, feminists and women in general. Ellen Willis, a bold and highly-original feminist writer who is generally acknowledged as being the first female rock critic, has died of lung cancer at the age of 64. Ellen was the director of the NYU Cultural Reporting and Criticism program I attended in 2003-2004. She acted as an advisor and mentor to many of us students, and taught one of my third-semester classes, Sex and Politics.

I’d heard about Ellen before NYU, and she was definitely one of my motivations for enrolling in CRC. But in person, Ellen could be underwhelming. I first met her while researching journalism schools. She seemed quiet and reserved, almost sleepy, not the epithet-wielding rabble-rouser who exhorted women to fight for personal and political change, who led the backlash against man-hating anti-sex feminists who knew only “loveless fucking,” who railed against the lazy intellectualism of the left as well as the easy-target right. I guess I expected some lean, hard, angry Patti Smith look-a-like, and was surprised to find Ellen so soft and soft-spoken.

In that first meeting, she seemed distant, and I couldn’t really tell if she was listening to me. There was no good reason to believe that she was: here was one of the certifiably coolest chicks of all time, a fierce intellectual whose passion and sexuality had captivated the likes of Robert Christgau (and had once compelled him to throw a pie in her face!), sitting face to face with a former cheerleader, a sorority girl, a musical ignoramus who at that point had never even heard of Robert Christgau. If I were Ellen, I don't think I would have paid me any mind.

But she did. She asked me questions that I didn't have immediate answers to. She pushed me beyond pleasantries. Our interaction was stilted and awkward, but after leaving her office, I wanted to read, write and start fights with my friends. And I wanted to take my conversation with Ellen further.

In class, Ellen took a “bait-and-see” approach, where she’d drop a controversial idea on the table and wait patiently to see who bit. And man, could she wait: all fifteen of us would sometimes sit silently for what felt like forever, staring at our hands and biting our lips, until inevitably someone piped up. But then for the next couple of hours, we’d be off and running, sharing opinions about political correctness, pornography, anti-porn activists, art, youth, family values, fetishes, priests, presidents and marriage (gay, straight, and otherwise). Often, when things got especially heated, I’d glance over to the head of the table to see Ellen smiling to herself. She clearly enjoyed a debate.

After we’d cooled off, Ellen would offer her own insights, which were usually so much more profound than anything else we’d heard or said that we’d need a moment to think. But we weren't through: she expected --she demanded-- a reaction, albeit in her quiet way. I came to realize that Ellen’s deceptively calm exterior belied a furiously churning mind. She wasn’t ever humoring us, or tuning us out –- she was actively listening to us, thinking about what we’d said, and considering her own response. She took our opinions seriously. Ellen was one of the most powerfully intelligent people I’ve ever met, but she was still able to make you feel, if not smart, then capable of becoming smart. She was inspiring. You wanted to rise to her challenge, to make talking to you worth her time.

I really value the time I spent talking to Ellen, in class and in her office. Friends and family members who are frustrated with my newfound penchant for arguing, my endless questions and my delight in confrontation have her to blame.

The world needs more critical thinkers, debaters and listeners like Ellen Willis. It's fitting that in addition to her writing, the educational program that she designed to cultivate critics will now serve as part of her legacy. However, it won't be the same without her.

Ellen, you rocked.

Other tributes to Ellen:
Karen Durbin for the Village Voice
Donna Gaines for Salon.com
Sasha Frere-Jones for The New Yorker
Sasha Frere-Jones' blog
Emma Pearse for New York Magazine
Several writers (including Ellen's daughter, Nona, and her husband, Stanley) for The Nation

Posted by Corrie at 1:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I used to think that the typical maternity leave in America consisted of about three months of paid leave (that's what I've been counting on, at least). Then I happend to read M.P. Dunleavy's sobering Opinion piece in Business section of this Saturday's New York Times. As Dunleavy explains, the Family and Medical Leave Act (our country's basic blueprint for maternity policy) provides up to 12 weeks of unpaid leave for men and women, provided they've worked "basically full time" for at least twelve months at a mid-sized company. According to Joan Blades, the co-founder of MomsRising.org, 40% of working women don't qualify for leave under the F.M.L.A. Since I've only been at my current job since May, I'd fall into that unqualified group. And since many of my friends work for themselves or for very small companies, they'd be with me.

Sure, those private companies are free to develop their own maternity policies, but they don't seem to be stepping in: the number of U.S. employees who get paid maternity leave of any length has been dropping, from 27% in 1998 to 18% in 2005. The article says that only 7% of employers offered at least six weeks of maternity leave with at least some pay. Interesting, especially when you consider that the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that moms breast feed for at least six months!

There's clearly very little financial support for new moms. “A lot of women don’t understand these policies, and they are very surprised by how little protection they offer,” Debra L. Ness, president of the National Partnership for Women and Families, told Dunleavy.

Not just surprised -- shocked! And bummed. I knew the U.S. had much less realistic childcare and maternity policies than other developed countries, but I didn't realize just how family un-friendly our country really was. Thanks to Dunleavy, a journalist and financial columnist for MSN.com, for spelling it out for me. That's just another reason to encourage women to work for change at the polling station, at the office, and in the community.

Posted by Corrie at 8:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I just had a chance to watch the November 1 episode of 30 Rock ("Jack the Writer"), in which The Girlie Show crew is thwarted by both Liz's boss, Jack Donnaghy (who insists on sitting in on the brainstorming meetings, distracting the writers), and Liz's assistant, Cerie (who insists on wearing ridiculously slutty clothes to the brainstorming meetings, distracting the writers). It was really funny! And smart! Liz finally cracks and begs Jack not to attend the meetings and Cerie not to waltz around the office without a bra. Both discussions backfire. The episode was full of Fey's trademark quick, hilarious lines (Jack: "Sorry I'm late -- I was at a luncheon for Ann Coulter's 60th birthday." Cerie: "I don't want to be taken seriously. I want to marry rich and start a handbag line."), and there was even a subtle jab at Studio 60 towards the end, when Liz and Pete catch themselves in a Sorkinesque "walk and talk" around the studio. Maybe it's just because "that other show" wasn't on this week, but 30 Rock was really great.

But you know...while we're focusing on 30 Rock...it could be even better if they would drop the lame jokes about Liz's age, looks and weight. I liked how Liz confronted her own insecurity when she confronted Cerie about her clothing choices, but did Cerie have to make the crack about how she figured Liz "must be" married with several children, because she always has food stains on her shirt? Did Frank have to say that he just threw up in his mouth (!!) after Liz showed up wearing the clingy dress (as a joke)? And did the episode have to end with Jack telling Liz to "go easy on the pizza"? I mean, come on. Liz is an attractive woman with a fantastic figure. And she's what -- 35? 36? Not old! At least, not in New York, where Liz lives and works. These sexist/self-deprecating comments aren't only annoying, they're not even true. The show needs to move beyond them.

Posted by Corrie at 10:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Who are these new LOST characters, where did they come from, and why do we have to care about them?! I would have assumed they were Others, but their line readings are so wooden, they must simply be new (and hopefully temporary) survivors. The blond girl-–whose name is Nikki, spelled the annoying way--has dewy-fresh skin, petal-pink lips, and perfect barrel curls that could only have been achieved through the use of a curling iron and styling crème. I didn’t realize there was a Sephora on the island – maybe it’s in the one of the hatches?! Until now, the show’s hair and makeup people have been really good about grubbing up the characters. Everyone sports a patina of sweat and grime, and their hair seems to be getting progressively longer and rattier (except for when they “cut” it with their jackknives). Jack, Sawyer, Sayid, Charlie, Locke and especially Kate accurately resemble people who have been stuck on a deserted island for weeks, with only the occasional rinse in a hatch shower or a dip in the ocean to clean themselves off. Then in waltzes Miss Nikki looking like she just came from lunch with the ladies of Wisteria Lane, not like she's been scrounging for nuts and berries in 100-degree heat. I realize that Shannon was also able to keep up appearances on the island, but she only had to do it for a short time – certainly she would have run out of nail polish or spilled some papaya juice on her miniskirt by now. If they won't take Nikki out of the show completely (please!), the least they can do is make her look as realistically bedraggled as everyone else.

Posted by Corrie at 3:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Oh no! Rumor has it that Studio 60 is not long for this world: "'Studio 60’ Cancellation Imminent" screams FOX News. "Lights Dim Hope For Studio" threatens the NY Post. Ratings are lower than expected, and "Friday Night Lights" performed slightly better when it was sneakily slipped into Studio's time slot this past Monday. NBC has reportedly ordered three more episodes, but the speculation is that this is a "contractual" move, and not all three will actually make it to the screen. The show's web site promises at least one more episode next week. Aren't the NBC execs reading my blog?! I think the show just keeps getting better.

Posted by Corrie at 2:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)