Image and Word

If watching this season of America’s Next Top Model has taught me anything, it’s that Tyra Banks’ commitment to effecting positive change in the world is growing as steadily as her resemblance to a drag queen. Sadly, however, she is far more convincing as a cross-dressing diva than she is as an earnest do-gooder.

It all started off innocently enough, with the inclusion of one or two “plus-sized” girls among the aspiring models over the last few seasons. When one group of finalist models travelled to Thailand shortly after the tsunmai of 2004, there was a poignant moment when Tyra urged them all to meditate for a moment on the enormity of that tragedy.

This season, however, she takes it to new levels. Early on, the 13 finalists were introduced to the vehicle in which they will be chauffered throughout the season, a “green” people-mover bus not entirely dissimilar to the one in which I went to my senior prom. The modelettes’ first photo shoot was for a public service “campaign” on the subject of how smoking is, you know, like, bad for you and stuff; as an added bonus, during panel Tyra announced that smoking by contestants would be banned this season. Add to this the requisite woman’s department model and a contestant with Asperger’s for a fully rounded portfolio of social conscience. I would be only mildly surprised if next week’s challenge involves putting together the perfect look for dishing out reheated canned goods at the soup kitchen: “You want to look fierce, but not too light-hearted.”

This season’s bent towards the socially responsible would be more admirable, if the show didn’t so desperately want to have it both ways.

It wants to embrace a positive body image for women of all shapes, yet it wants to punish those who carry around a bit of a gut. It wants to project an image of environmental-friendliness, yet it wants to carpet the inside of the green vehicle with fake grass–a more telling symbol pop culture may never have offered. It wants to tell us how brave Asperger’s sufferer Heather is for competing on national TV, yet it certainly doesn’t want to bother to learn how to pronounce the name of the disorder. It tries to claim that the model-making process is empowering for the girls on the show, yet doesn’t hesitate to do a photo shoot depicting the aspirants as murder victims, taken down by their own jealous rivals.

Without this pretense of activism, America’s Next Top Model could certainly have been called anti-feminist or degrading. This new shallow veneer of moral impetus, however, is even worse than none at all. It says that doing the right thing is neither more serious, more arduous, or more lasting than striking a pose for the camera.

Turning 30 is a very reflective time. And, being myself, I used the opportunity to reflect on my own petty quirks and preferences. I am sure I missed plenty of things I love in this compilation, so consider what is assembled here to be a pretty good estimation of the best 30 cultural and media items to cross my path lo these 30 years.

30. Danger Mouse: This droll British cartoon about a secret agent mouse and his cowardly hamster sidekick was the television equivalent of training wheels, preparing young funnybones for future enjoyment of Monty Python.

29. Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me: I have no argument for the impact or profundity of this weekly radio quiz show, but it is like audio-comfort food, and you just can’t argue with macaroni and cheese.

28. The first sentence of One Hundred Years of Solitude: “Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.”

27. Screenwriter’s Blues, Soul Coughing: This song is aesthectically pleasing, in other words, “fly.”

26. Bird Books, in general: Ever since I was very young I could easily spend a good hour or so paging through these field guides, mentally catalouging the birds I have encountered, admiring the drawings and photographs, attempting my own sketches. Why? No idea. But I just bought a new bird book yesterday so clearly my obsession lives.

25. Heroes: It has only been one season, but even if it goes wildly downhill come the fall, Heroes will have been the brilliant meteor shower that you got up at 3 a.m. to go watch with your Dad when you were eight and remember forever as the one of the most amazing and entrancing things you’ve ever seen.

24. From Here to Eternity: This movie is more than the classic embrace-in-the-crashing-surf scene. Try not to tear up when Pvt. Prewitt (Montgomery Clift) plays a bugle salute to the fallen Maggio (Frank Sinatra) or not to hold your breath through the tempestuous first meeting between Karen Holmes (Deborah Kerr) and Sgt. Warden (Burt Lancaster, embodying the term ‘barrel-chested’).

23. The State: Among many other reasons, for bringing us monkey research. No wait. “Research is such a restrictive term. I feel I’ve opened up a whole new arena of experimentation which I call ‘Monkey Torture.’”

22. No matter how many times I see it, I will flip to the channel showing A Few Good Men, just to hear this: “Son, we live in a world that has walls. And those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago and you curse the Marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Santiago’s death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives…You don’t want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall.”

21. Network, specifically the dialogue: The script of this movie is clearly the work of someone who simply loves the sound, the meaning, the rhythm and cadence or words.

20. Crazy, as sung by either Patsy Cline or Willie Nelson: Plaintive heartbreak at its most elegant. This song is spare, simple, and nearly perfect.

19. It Happened One Night: Once upon a time in Hollywood the double entendre was a finely-honed craft. Here, Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert elevate it to a sly and sexy art.

18. Spongmonkeys: They have a pepper bar.

17. Cracker: If the crime-drama gods told me that, for the rest of my life, I could have one episode of Cracker, or the entire catalogue of all three Law and Order franchises the choice would be clear. The subtlety and the complex characters (and the British accents?) make even a little bit of Cracker infinitely more filling than an entire season of any American production in the genre.

16. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe: I am still looking for the magic closet that will turn me into a mythical queen. In the meantime I will have to settle for regular re-readings of this first and best of the Narnia books.

15. Leaves of Grass: Just because.

14. Northern Exposure: If Northern Exposure were a new show today, would I like it or would I find it too full of self-conscious quirk? No matter, the talking trees, errant satellites, and especially the bohemian local DJ/armchair philosopher were irresistible to me in high school. And with that unique variety of nostalgia that high school obsessions can induce, I love it to this day.

13. This line of the American President: “My name is Andrew Shepherd and I AM the president.” Hey, I dig righteous indignation, especially as written by Aaron Sorkin (see also #22).

12. Ten: The 80s are in right now; grunge must be making a comeback soon. I am dusting off my flannels and army boots at this very moment.

11. The Green Sky Trilogy: In later years, I have come to find the books’ veiled politics a bit wearisome, yet the exquisitely sketched alternate world where the denizens glide from tree branch to tree branch on silken wings has never failed to captivate me.

10. Automatic for the People: It’s 1995. I’m feeling angsty. Lying on my bed in the dark, listening to Michael Stipe croon, “I will try not to breathe, this decision is mine…”

9. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock- “Let us go then, you and I…”

8. 10 Things I Hate About You: Unlike many other teen movies in which an outsider protagonist finds love and suddenly starts acting and dressing like his or her more mainstream classmates, in this high school-based adaptation of the Taming of the Shrew the character of Kat (Julia Stiles) gets her man, but never loses her fierce sense of non-conformity. Score one for the outcasts.

7. New Partner, by Palace Music: Just ask my college roomates if I ever get sick of this song.

6. Clue: The movie that taught us that the chief duty of butlers is to butle, and that “Monkeys’ brains, though popular in Cantonese cuisine, are not often to be found in Washington D.C.”

5. Colin Firth’s performances in Pride and Prejudice, Bridget Jones’ Diary, Love Actually, Girl With a Pearl Earring, and What a Girl Wants: No other actor in movies today is undone by love quite so well as Colin Firth. He plays it steely and distant and yet always clearly telegraphs the affection (whether paternal or romantic) that simmers beneath his icy surfaces. And when, in most of these films, he finally submits to his passion it is with a headlong rush that is all the more satisfying because of his previous sternness.

4. The Princess Bride: Yes, Fred Savage, the story on which this movie is base is indeed a kissing book. An awesome, awesome kissing book.

3. Sonnet #18: I probably shouldn’t even try to bother elaborating on why this most famous of Shakepeare sonnets is, you know, good.

2. Nature, by Ralph Waldo Emerson: I am indeed a transparent eyeball.

1. Pride and Prejudice: The mini-series, the movie, and, above all, the book. “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on the subject forever.” Sigh.

Gather round my children to hear a story of an unimaginable time, long ago, when Ozzy Osbourne spoke coherently. Yes, it’s true: at one time, the marble-mouthed rock star was able to enunciate and string together entire sentences.

How do I know this?

It is all thanks to the Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years, the astoundingly entertaining Penelope Spheeris documentary from 1988 that I just stumbled upon on IFC. The movie is mostly composed of interview clips and performance footage and some contrived tableaux that foreshadow the reality TV craze of our millennium in which so many of the film’s subjects have attempted to resurrect their careers. The musicians featured include established stars like Osbourne and Alice Cooper, as well as a host of aspiring metal bands.

There are no melodramatic voice-overs or transparent narratives of redemption; there are only the subjects, talking about themselves and their craft, prodded on by sporadic questions from off-camera.

The musicians are all big hair and oversized ego as they ponder the wonders of groupies (“I like sluts. I like slutty girls. I like girls who will take off all their clothes and dance in my face. That turns me on.”) and muse on the role alcohol, drugs, and Satan (“I like death and destruction and frenzy and hatred. Not doing it, like reading about it.”) play in their lives. As they tackle these topics, however, their uncertainty slowly bubbles to the surface and the result is a portrait of a poignant blend of youthful confidence and faltering insecurity, with an occasional soupcon of skilled musicianship and thoughtful philosophy.

In one particularly gripping scene, W.A.S.P.’s Chris Holmes floats in a pool, drinking a screwdriver and sharing stories about frolicking with naked women in his hotel room. Beside the pool, his mother sits making the occasional wry osbervation (“He’s only drunk when he’s awake.”) and mostly seeming uncomfortable with her son’s behavior. Holmes for his part tries his hardest to maintain a veneer of enthusiasm for his lifestyle, but the moment devolves into a stunning show of self-destruction as he discusses his alcohol dependency and tries to avoid thinking about why it is his drinks. His voice cracks and he evades questions, before he chugs half of a bottle of vodka and pours the remainder over his head.

Though Spheeris finds the cracks in the glamourous rock star surfaces, she also captures the energy and appeal of the heavy metal scene. Cooper and Osbourne both make rather cogent defenses of their oeuvre and the fans that are interviewed exude an almost palpable passion. The picture that emerges is complex and compelling.

And now, while I wander down to my local CD store to find some used Megadeth and Poison albums, I will leave you with the excellent advice offered to aspiring rock stars by Mr. Steven Tyler: “Be real careful, wear a rubber, and don’t do drugs.”