John Furia, Jr. - 1929-2009

In terms of modern celebrity, there are two kinds of artists: those of widespread fame and those who are subjectively famous, known primarily to students of their particular field and/or work.

Screen and television writer John Furia, Jr., who passed away on Friday, falls firmly into the "subjective celebrity" category for me. Had I not the privilege to know the man personally as well as to be taught by him, it's likely that I wouldn't know his name.

But I did, so I do...and I will remain forever grateful.

Here's to you, Professor Furia.

Honest to Blog, Our Standards Are Low

Its merciless public relations onslaught aside, Juno is not a horrendous film. Off the top of my head, I can think of a dozen movies released in 2007 to which it is considerably superior.

Nonetheless, it is an extremely unlikable film, for both the well-documented, fingernails-on-a-chalkboard faux-hipster dialogue that permeates it and, concurrently, the slobbering praise it has been receiving since even before its release. Public Enemy Number One on both counts is ex-stripper Diablo Cody, as skilled at self-promotion as she is overrated as a screenwriter. With the help of her hardworking publicist, she has positioned herself as the cool-kid commodity du jour in Hollywood (at least for the next 14 minutes or so)--and one need look no further for evidence that she is more image than substance than her ridiculous self-applied moniker. "Brook Busey" apparently didn't ring false enough for our lady's tastes, so she became "Diablo Cody"--a name so obnoxiously stupid for a human being that it might as well be "Crunchwrap Supreme".

On Saturday, Crunchwrap disappointingly won the WGA Award for original screenplay, proving that even writers have not remained immune to Juno's ubiquitous PR snowblower.

Everyone involved with Juno--especially those on the marketing side (and I include Crunchwrap in that group)--wants us to believe that it's an "outsider" movie that defiantly bucks tradition with an unlit pipe clenched in its teeth and a jug of Sunny D hanging loosely from its fingertips. But the truth is that simply eschewing explosions and Sandra Bullock in favor of the Moldy Peaches and hamburger phones does not classify unconventional storytelling. Beneath its surface, Juno is just as much of an assembly-line product as a piece of crap like Transformers is, only it came off a line of a different sort: the realm of cookie-cutter quirk (much like its equally overpraised predecessor, Little Miss Sunshine). I did not find a single moment in Juno to be unexpected (except for, perhaps, the discovery that I had it in me to want to slap a fictional 16-year-old pregnant girl for talking like a fictional 29-year-old screenwriter), right down to the red-alert copout of turning Jason Bateman's otherwise likable character into a lecherous would-be pederast for the sole reason that Crunchwrap couldn't figure out what to do with him. You'd think most voting members of the Writers Guild of America would have least keyed in on that--alas, they did not, and the phony-baloney Crunchwrap Supreme train rolls on toward the Academy Awards with a full head of steam.

Crunchwrap winning a WGA Award is equivalent to Mira Sorvino winning an Oscar. Should Crunchwrap win an Oscar, it will be equivalent to Milli Vanilli winning a Grammy. And just like the Recording Academy did with Rob and Fab, one's only hope in such a scenario will be that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will later realize that they were had and revoke Crunchwrap's undeserved prize.

In the meantime, let's just sit on a stoop and expeditiously commence an acoustic duet. 'Cause that's real, homeskillet. That shit's real.

Golden Globe Awards Canceled; Streets To Be Choked With Blood of AMPTP Negotiators

Now you've gone and done it, Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers.

It's no secret that you don't give a rat's ass about the needs of the hardworking men and women who write the films and television shows that stuff your bottomless coffers with unimaginable amounts of cash; otherwise, the Writers' Guild of America would never have been forced to go on strike to begin with--or, at the very least, the work stoppage would be over by now instead of at nine weeks and counting. You've all but spit on the reasonable demands put forth by the WGA since day one, mockingly forgoing counter-offers in the name of jousting gay porn stars and cruel sociological experiments that test the limit of how unfunny a human being can possibly be (as well as some things that aren't on NBC), growing ever more confident in your belief that television--the medium more immediately impacted by the strike--doesn't need writers, that the world will lap up whatever regurgitated gruel you serve it with a smile on its face. (As for movies, you likely figured you wouldn't have to worry about those until the end of the summer.)

You almost got away with it, too...but you failed to consider the impact of the strike on a product near and dear to the consumers of popular entertainment: awards shows. Now that the official stance of the Screen Actors' Guild to not cross WGA picket has led to the cancellation of the Golden Globe Awards ceremony, your goose is cooked.

There's a lot that the masses will do without by way of entertainment (quality, logic, any sign of effort)...but if the AMPTP thinks it can take away their "famous people getting dressed up to stand on red carpets and talk about what they're wearing" and not face repercussions, it is in for a very rude--possibly violent--awakening.

I predict that, following a series of bloody protests enacted by average citizens against the AMPTP that will cost many lives, the writers' strike will be over by next Friday.

The Internet? Never Heard Of It.

If there is one upside for me personally to the Writers' Guild of America Strike (currently at eight days and counting), it's that it has given me a perfectly reasonable-looking excuse for not updating this blog. It's a phony excuse, sure, but it's reasonable-looking nonetheless.

In lieu of any original content (unless you're counting this paragraph and the one previous), enjoy the above video from unitedhollywood.com, which quietly suggests that the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers maybe are being something less than completely honest with their claims to the WGA that there is no money to be made from online content.