Big Screen Little Screen

Starting out as a short film, then produced as a pilot for the Oxygen network that was never picked up, Illeanarama - Supermarket of the Stars almost made it to television - via E!, but hit more snags. Rather than throw up her hands and walk away, creator/star Illeana Douglas went the route of YouTube. Not to knock the bedroom webcam superstars or penniless young filmmakers on the come that have made the site what it is today, but the current incarnation of Illeanarama (a remixed concoction of the original short with slices from the pilot) has the makings of a show that needs a more traditional home.

When I first viewed episode 1, the first thing that came to mind was another comedy that hasn’t seen the audience (or media chatter) that it rightfully deserves: Laura Kightlinger’s The Minor Accomplishments of Jackie Woodman (thank you, IFC TV). Not for the parallel satirical views of Hollywood trappings, but for their whip-smart but loose, rough around the edges feel that harken back to the days when indies (films) were indies. Before every major studio had it’s own “specialty division” to lay claim on what was left of the old aesthetic, not before sanding down the splinters (charm or true bite). And save for premium cable, we’ve come to expect even less risk taking from the networks. The Office never would have seen American screens if not for some baseline expectations for success set by it’s across-the-pond predecessor. The case for Arrested Development is moot now, as it is for the oft-compared to, even less watched ABC’s Sons and Daughters (2006 - 2006). Are viewers not ready for alternatives to spoon-fed laughs, or are the networks not ready to hand them over?

The one benefit that Illeanarama does have in it’s current home is the time and breathing room to build on it’s humble beginnings (few start-ups are born without flaws, this is no exception) while putting famous friends of Illeana’s to work, on the cheap. From the looks of things, along with Justine Bateman and Ed Bagley Jr., future guest stars Jeff Goldblum, Andy Dick, Courtney Cox and Noah Wyle aren’t looking to get paid (much).

Watch Episode 2.

You know, I’ve seen enough of Sacha Baron Coen’s The Ali G Show to know exactly what I’d be missing if I excluded myself from this weekend’s festivities, with the film pulling in great numbers (a reported 26.4 million) for a limited release - on about 800 screens. I enjoy Sacha’s antics in short stints, but can’t be bothered to sit though Borat’s 84 minutes. Maybe if I would have felt more compelled to join the hordes if the film hadn’t been rammed down my throat over the past two months.

Not that my tirade last week about the over aggressive marketing of the film was intended to change anyone’s mind, or that I’m foolish enough to believe it would, but I’ll take small comfort in the minuscule contingent of contrarians out there that haven’t been fully bowled over by the Borat effect. Take this article for instance, which documents the less spontaneous side of Coen, who “asked print reporters to submit questions to Borat via e-mail, even went so far as to read from a Teleprompter at his TV press junket ‘interviews’”. Perhaps it’s just a bi-product of the non-stop hard-sell that sapped the improvisational spirit from the comedian.

Former Cinematical editor Karina Longworth (video review below) is also less than enamoured, claiming, “as comedy and social commentary, Borat fails more than it succeeds”. She also points out that most of Borat’s schtick has been worn out over the course of the promotion - “If you’ve seen Borat on Conan or The Today Show, or if you’ve ever been on Myspace or YouTube, or if you like, live in the world, you’ve seen 75 percent of this movie.” But hey, she also says the other 25 percent is worth the price of admission.

Previously: Borat: Let’s get it over with

Borat: Let’s get it over with

Look, Sacha Baron Cohen, one of the most subversive comic minds since Andy Kaufman, has talent to burn, and based on advanced reviews alone, Borat is sure to be a smash hit. But this ambush style of comedy, utilizing the bait and switch interview, faux-fish out of water routine, is two evolutionary steps removed from middle-school crank calling, and one step from Punk’d (all apologies to Candid Camera’s Alan Funt). Sacha’s alter-egos - Ali G, Bruno, and now Borat, (previously relegated to imported DVDs or HBO specials, now ready for wide-scale box office) all have had their moments of brilliance. And yes, in the past I’ve giggled appreciatively as some of the worst living examples of American ignorance, bias, and celebrity have received their comeuppance (however obliviously to them in the moment) at Sacha’s very hands. For myself, the effect wears down in repeated viewings. The social commentary is well understood, but as a stealth operation, the laughs come off as cheaply gained.

Now, considering Borat’s big-screen debut, it’s not so much the finished product that I find myself loathing (because in fairness, I haven’t viewed the movie in full, though at some point, I’ll be dragged to the theater by a friend, or will pop the DVD in, when no one is looking), it’s the promotional means to that end.

You Sacha, with the limitless improvisational genius at your command - you’re better than this - the weeks upon weeks of scripted “in character” press conferences, the international “incidents“, the shameless stunts and hucksterism. The over-hype, now reaching dreaded Snakes proportions, can’t be solely laid at your feet, I know. No hard feelings - I eagerly await your next project, as long as it excludes this overwrought formula.

But to whom it may concern: be it 20th Century Fox, or otherwise - I’d rather sit this one out, fast forward past the Borat premiere on November 3rd, and the following weeks as middle America joins in on the joke (due to “lack of awareness” in non-coastal regions, Fox has opted for a smaller, initial release of 800 screens, then looking to build on that number as word of mouth spreads), and this whole gravy train ignites the inspiration for countless silkscreen press entrepreneurs to toss their “Vote for Pedro” shirt designs in favor of slogans boasting a new and improved Kazakhstani flavor, primed for the local mall kiosk or souvenir stand. Besides, there’s another Borat themed (now confirmed as Bruno) creation just around the corner. So book it - we can do this all over again, in a year or so. As we should know by now, there’s no shortage of village idiots to skewer.

Week in Review: Sacha Cohen promotes movie, important people have taken offense. The locomotion of action/reaction will plug on until the barnburning November release. One year from now, Borat will be spotted at a costume party near you, where slurred words will quote him like so many Austin Powers utterances - Yeah Baby.

Opening this weekend (trailers) - controversial creepfest Jesus Camp (limited), Billy Bob Thornton accompanied by an unnamed actor in School For Scoundrels, and Forest Whittaker in Last King of Scotland (limited).

Kung Fu Hustle, American Psycho, and Memento mentioned in A.V. Club’s Midnight Movie List.

30 Rock buzz - Tracy Morgan (as T. Jordan) in faux-film one-sheets for Who Dat Ninga (sic) and Black Cop, White Cop (via EW).

Studio 60 - Where’s the comedy? I’ll cop a guilty plea for perpetuating the hype (maybe YouTube makes everything look better, like leaked pilots) and I’m ready to eat my words, because NBC’s pride and joy is losing steam at this early juncture - it’s (not) funny because it’s true. With a different creator working behind the scenes, the bar wouldn’t have been set as high, but the show needs more than a few touches to prove that Sorkin’s not at a loss for post-West Wing relevance. Drop Stephen Webber as the flaccid network chairman, along with Sarah Paulson - and if you’re going to go on and on about how hilarious this “Crazy Christians” skit is for two episodes, have the balls to show it, in lieu of sadly anticlimactic opening musical numbers.

Saturday Night Live premieres this weekend. Dane Cook, The Killers, an all out Boregasm - predicts Goldenfiddle. True.

Pregnant - Lauren Ambrose, six months in, while most of her other Six Feet Under castmates are back out there, trying to put food on the table. Not like I need an excuse, or would allow anyone to forget about Michael C. Hall in Dexter, premiering Sunday on Showtime.

HBO announces the future adaptation of UK production Suburban Shootout (trailer). Snap analysis - Desperate Housewives in a gun-toting Battle Royale.

If David Spade (signed to new sitcom gig) falls in the forest, and nobody’s watching, would he make a sound?

Commenting on another’s blog remains a snotty diatribe akin to reading someone’s diary and whispering the details behind curled fingers at the prom. Except that blogs aren’t a book of secrets with a silver lock and key, and cyberspace is not an empty gymnasium filled with ambient music and papier mache. Yet, in both locales, people want to know dirt. Online, people are either addicted or lazy, so it is in this spirit of obsessive-compulsive passivity (have I coined a new term?) that I offer my
insights on the blog of Malan Breton, wunderkind designer of Project Runway 3.

If you’re not familiar with Mr. Breton’s pedigree, his blog will do nothing to illuminate this dilemma. Is he gay? Is he German? Is he putting us on? At least one of those quandaries should be to the affirmative. As Tim Gunn warned us in the “Road to the Runway” casting special, Breton auditioned thrice, entering initially as a ennui-OD’d performance artist (though, in New York, one can urinate in a can of Rockstar and make the cut; Laurie Anderson would be so chagrined), then offended Gunn and his posse of Vogue demigogues before turning them down (wait, they wanted him after that? Vogue really IS for straight women!). Still, Kors and crew know a thing or two about marketing: bitchy sells, but weird bitchy sells bigger.

Breton has big dreams: “I have suddenly thought of something I want to work with Baz Lurhmann (on): maybe he could direct one of my shorts or better yet he could direct and produce my show at Paris couture, what an amazing dream to work towards.” Yes, Baz Luhrmann wants to work with you, Malan Breton. First of all, google his name if you’re unsure of the spelling. If you want his attention, this is sort of obvious from an employment standpoint. Secondly, I’m fairly certain Baz and his production designer wife Catherine Martin have found their niche together over the past decade and aren’t starved for inspiration, but do go on: “I am sitting watching Moulin Rouge perhaps the most brilliant display of art, colour an orgasm for the senses, etc.” Yes, yes. Thank God you fell short at etcetera. “I remember after 9-11 having nothing not even a job, my grandmother (my best friend ) had died, and seeing this film and realising that if i put my mind to it i could accomplish what I set out to.” His nana was his best friend. Enough said: “They say we only use 5 percent of our brains potential, try to learn something new every day, I speak seven languages, I learned to dance , sing, act , to sew, design, play piano, tuba, flute, and violin, write, photography, I learned it all by being aware of what was around me, taking chances. Never be afraid to talk about what your doing with anyone and everyone, its called networking.”

Still, after achieving all he had, Malan Breton gave up his cater-waiter job and dove headlong into the vast cesspool that is reality fashion television, willing to wend his way like those pioneers George Hamilton, Liberace, and Halston did before him! And without a spellchecker, no less! Mein Gott! Sincerely, after all these digs, it’s really the textural orgasm of Malan Breton’s couture that impells me to laud his name. After all, the internet is not where we find knowledge or even information, so much as it is a fodder mill for third-hand rumor reported through the proper gauzy gaze. That’s how Baz would see it. After all, it’s so much to do nowadays with networking.

Related - Project Runway Recap: Season 3 Premiere

Tags: malan breton, project runway