by Stacey Fearheiley
I know there are some who do NOT like to sit through the previews of movies when they go out to watch films. I get that. I even understand the logic. But it's not me. I LOVE TRAILERS. Movie trailers. Good ones and bad ones.
Why? Dunno! And I don't even WATCH 1/3 of the movies of the trailers/previews I see. One reason this podcast about holiday movie previews was so long was because both Eric and I appreciate a well done and entertaining trailer. We like watching them, and talking about them.
We discussed a little about what makes good trailers and what makes bad ones. Even in 2017, there are still producers who don't know how to get a good trailer made. But this got me thinking...this comparing of good vs. badly made movie previews. And I started remembering the ones from back in the day that really hit the mark.
So, below are some examples of "old school" trailers...AND, a great way to waste time. Enjoy!
They run the gamut. And these are just a few, but I could watch these all day...a rabbit hole I would never come back from.
So, what are you going to see this holiday season? Do you base it on previews? Or do you hate the waste of time these little 3 min vignettes are?
Wherever you stand, you have to admit, the trailer is an art form unto itself.
I hated myself for staying up and watching the Emmys until the end. After all, I had a busy day at work the next day, and could have used the sleep. And yet, it's not like this was a typical Oscars show that flirted with midnight (Eastern Time) before the awards were all handed out and the L.A. after-parties could begin.
And I was liking the show. No, the Sean Spicer cameo didn't sit well with me. First of all, I could have written that joke. Secondly - and perhaps more importantly - he doesn't deserve a warm welcome anywhere after facilitating the complete destruction in Americans' faith in our own government for six months. Finally, I could have written that joke. But I was liking the rest of it.
Aziz Ansari & Lena Waithe win an Emmy
I particularly enjoyed the diversity of the winners. I didn't enjoy the television industry's love letter to itself with regard to how inclusive they were. Because whatever. But the folks who actually walked up to receive trophies were a diverse bunch, and that was cool. Lena Waithe was the first black woman to win an Emmy for writing a comedy series. Aziz Ansari (an "Indian kid from South Carolina" was how Waithe described him) shared that award. Donald Glover was the first black person to win an Emmy for directing a comedy series. Sterling K. Brown was the first black actor in over two decades to win for Best Actor in a drama series. Reed Morano was the first woman in over two decades to win Best Director for a drama series. Riz Ahmed, a British actor of Pakistani descent, was the first South Asian actor to win an acting award at the Emmys.
Of course, some of my warm and fuzzy feelings about the rainbow of honorees were dimmed slightly when the producers of the Emmys cut off Brown's microphone before he finished his speech. Sure, this kind of stuff happens, but Nicole Kidman had just delivered what seemed like a lengthy list of thank-yous moments before, and the orchestra didn't make a peep. And moments later, they let Elisabeth Moss finish. Just sayin'.
But I liked the show, even though I haven't seen a lot of the shows and performances that were nominated. My own ignorance on this point was on my mind, because two days before, Variety published an article called, "Almost Nobody Watches Most Emmy-Nominated Shows," and that knowledge made me feel less alone.
And, it also seemed completely normal to me. There's just way too much television today for any one viewer to consume everything that might appeal to them unless they are lucky enough to get paid to watch television.
And, it also reminded me of the one reason why I like awards shows. Despite the fact that only 5% of television-watchers in America have ever watched Master of None (for which Waithe & Ansari won a writing Emmy), The Handmaid's Tale (for which Morano won her directing Emmy), or Atlanta (for which Glover won his directing Emmy) -- they might, now. If it weren't for Emmys or Oscars or Tonys or Grammys, or Pulitzers, the only television (or movies, or plays, or music, or books) that we'd ever see would be that which is explicitly designed to make the most money. Basically, every movie would be aliens blowing up the halls of Congress, every TV show would be cheaply made reality television, and every book would be Twilight. The fact that these awards shows exist make it somehow profitable for networks and studios and Broadway theaters and publishing houses to invest in quality. Because after a show or a movie or a play or a song or a book wins an award, there's a sizable audience out there who buys tickets or pushes the "download" button. And hopefully, quality art continues to be made by industries for whom the ultimate incentive is and always will be money.
So no, I'm not going to stay up to watch every award show until it's over. When I do watch, I will rail at the foolish choices of those voters and pontificate loudly upon why their choices were so, so wrong (still not over Brokeback Mountain losing - but that's another post for another day). But I'm ultimately glad that these shows exist.
Now, if you'll pardon me, I need to go watch that episode of Master of None. It just won an Emmy.
by Stacey Fearheiley
So, why DOES Netflix have a whole category dedicated to stand up comedians? Why do the ratings of comedy shows like Saturday Night Live, Late Night, Conan and the Daily Show surge when tragedy hits? Why are the biggest laughs in movies often in a scene at a funeral?
I remember several weeks after my father, to whom I was very close, died, I was reading an article in a magazine and there was a statement made that looked weird to me. It didn't seem accurate. I wasn't sure I believed it. I sat there for a quick minute and realized that there was one person who would know about the accuracy and so I picked up the phone and started dialing my dad's phone number.
I believe I got about 3 numbers in when I realized what I was doing. I stopped dialing. I hung up the phone and I said aloud, " I don't have that area code." There was a beat. Then I giggled. And I knew my dad would have chuckled as well. But my question is, why didn't I burst into tears? What made me think that bizarre thought and then laugh at it?
Maybe it's because laughter and tears, happy and sad, comedy and tragedy are but 2 sides of 1 coin. Without one, the other isn't as understood.
As this world has seemed to be exploding and imploding, literally and figuratively for about a year, we have, as a society, been turning more and more to our comic entertainers. Colbert has never been more popular. Samantha Bee has soared and SNL hasn't had a season like their last one in YEARS!
But this need to laugh through tears, to find humor in the abysmal isn't a new thing. Bob Hope was successful in his career before WWII, but his legacy that endures will be how he entertained the troops overseas through several wars. How he made GIs laugh in the literal middle of war, with bombs sounding in the background, knowing that many of those young men would never make it back to the U.S.
In my lifetime, I'll never forget Jon Stewart talking to the camera for the first time after the attacks on September 11, 2001. The Daily Show after 9/11
What he said was exactly the answer to my questions. The need to feel after we think we couldn't feel anymore. To feel something better. To feel like there is hope.
Why do we have so many comedians? Because we need them. Especially when it feels like there isn't one reason to smile.
When comedians talk about going back to work after tragedy, they talk about timing. It is a thin line between the "right time" and "too soon." In politics there doesn't seem to be "too soon", but for natural disasters and man-made terror the line is more blurred. For the victims of the hurricanes and earthquakes, it may still be too soon to joke about the storms themselves as they are dealing with the nitty gritty of the aftermath.
But, Conan will still do his "Clueless Gamer" routine, Colbert will drop some "Midnight Confessions", John Oliver will talk about "How is this still a thing?" stuff and Netflix will keep adding to its comedian show catalog. Because we need it. Even if it is temporary. Now more than ever.
I had a chance to see a bit of Comic Relief's Hand in Hand fundraising telethon last night, as it raised money for the victims of the hurricanes, etc. Not a lot of funny, but a lot of good spirit. And we need that too. Music was in abundance. And while we need the comedy, we also just need the arts in general...it keeps us human.
In the past few weeks in America, oh now let's see ...
Actual neo-Nazis marched through the streets of Charlottesville and killed someone.
Transgender servicemembers are being banned from the military for seemingly no reason.
Hurricane Harvey became the single largest rain event in our country's history, burying our fourth largest city in a trillion gallons of water.
Recipients of the DACA program have learned that the program is being ended, and if Congress takes no action, they'll likely face deportation.
Hurricane Irma has strengthened to a Category 5 storm and is headed straight for Florida.
It's times like this when I sometimes pause and wonder why Stacey and I spend so much time watching movies and TV shows so that we can meet on the weekends and have long extended conversations about them. I mean, the nominal "leader of the free world" is a spray-tanned toddler and the planet is apparently trying to eat us alive, and this is what's important to us?
And you know what? Yes. Yes, it is.
For starters, I love movies. I love good television. Additionally, I love books and theatre and music. I have a love/hate relationship with awards shows, but I still end up watching them and caring who wins. I grieve (in my own way) when young artists die too soon and older artists leave behind a stunning legacy of work to inspire the next generation. I believe that pop culture is art. And I believe that when art ceases to be important, we're in real trouble.
Your hosts. And wine.
Also, if you haven't already noticed, most of the POPeration! episodes we record are basically me laughing hysterically. Stacey has always been able to make me laugh, no matter the topic, and so no, I won't give up the hours we spend together planning the next episode, fighting over which movies and TV shows we need to watch the following week, and recording our conversations; it's just too much fun.
And I need a little fun right now. I need some joy in my life. I suspect I'm not alone.
It can be very easy during troubling times to resist those things that bring you joy, but I believe it's a huge mistake. Yes, you should watch the news, if you can stand it; I do. Yes, if you feel so moved, you should protest; I did, and I probably will again before too long. But no, you should not stop doing things that make you happy. Walk your dog. Watch the game. Knit. Play a round of golf. Lose yourself in a good book. Travel. And if you're like me, see a movie you loved as a child or binge the latest must-see show on the streaming service of your choice.
Above all, laugh. If you don't have a Stacey in your life, you should get one. Vent about the state of the world if you need to, but at least tell a joke while you're doing so, and then change the topic eventually and do something that makes you happy.
Also, podcasts. Podcasts are good. I know of a really excellent one you should try; we're on Apple and Stitcher and Google Play and iHeartRadio and YouTube and ... okay, you get my point.
