How appropriate a way to start Big Brother 11: with an endurance competition in which the 12 new house-guests hung in the air in giant diapers, clinging onto toilet seats for as long as possible. This just about sums up the grotty appeal of the summer's goofiest reality-game-show. Crudity is its own reward on this share-the-shower-mold series, and the season premiere did not disappoint.
As Craig Ferguson said to BB host Julie Chen on his own show Wednesday night, this is "a whole new batch of skanks and hos." I'm not just talking about the bikini model who referred to herself as "this sweet bitch," but also the neuroscientist who said she was "afraid that being smart would make me a target. In both cases, they proved that self-respect is the first thing that goes out the fogged-up window on Big Brother.
There's nothing guilty about the pleasure I take in BB. This is junk-TV that always ends up revealing a lot about how people behave in groups, with cameras trained on them 24/7. And those revelations often surprise the players themselves as much as they do us.
Here's the sole SPOILER I'll reveal about tonight if you haven't watched already: one twist this season is to allow one contestant from an earlier season to re-enter the household. Tonight, of four possible candidates, muscle-bound Jessie, from last season, was the one who lumbered back into the house, clutching his bag like a gorilla about to pounce. Since we know Jessie's self-delusion is nearly limitless, I look forward to seeing him try to fit in with newbies like the mixed-martial-artist and the tae kwon do expert, both of whom will probably threaten his grinning superiority-complex.
Be sure to read the always-superlative Big Brother TV Watch written by my colleague, Jocular Josh Wolk, right here at EW.com starting tomorrow morning. In the meantime, sound off below: Did you watch? Who are your early favorites, and the ones you want to see evicted as soon as possible?
So now there's a 1,500-word resolution before the House Foreign Affairs Committee to declare Michael Jackson "an American legend and musical icon" and a "global humanitarian." It was introduced by Representative Sheila Jackson Lee of Texas, who also spoke at this week's Jackson memorial.
Now, I'm really glad Jackson is getting the credit he deserves as a musical genius. But I don't like the casual use of the word "icon" for the same reason that a former Managing Editor of Entertainment Weekly didn't: As he used to say, "An icon is 'an object of uncritical devotion' and usually a religious image. Stars aren't either of those things." In fact, he banned the use of the word "icon" from EW for a while.
I think the government has a lot more on its collective mind right now than having to pass a resolution about Michael Jackson. I say, let Michael continue to be lauded; let the rediscovery of his music flourish. But having the government declare him an "icon"? Not necessary, distracting, and maybe even a bit embarrassing. What say you?
Last night, Craig Ferguson reverted back to his would-be pop-star days, with a get-down, get-funky lip-synch to Duran Duran's cover of the Grandmaster Flash hit, "White Lines":
Really, what more is there to say, other than, contra Flash, "Do it!"
Here's a clip from the near-legendary 13th episode of Dollhouse, "Epitaph One," that never aired during its first season. It'll be on the season one DVD to be released July 28. It features Amy Acker not in her Dr. Saunders role, but in her alternate "Active" identity as Whiskey, which means she's carrying a big gun and is surrounded by some folks with bigger guns:
So, Dollhouse fans, start dissecting this scene. What does it mean? Where does it fit into the Dollhouse mythology? How enthused are you for the DVD release (lots of Joss Whedon commentaries, kids) and a second season of Dollhouse?
Bravo to Neil Patrick Harris for proving himself the master of yet another TV genre: the television cooking show. As the special guest hosting a dinner at Los Angeles' Magic Castle, Harris was more tartly critical than many other celebs have been on the Top Chef shows. Good for him: who needs a wishy-washy diner on a show like this?
The four competing chefs were given their challenge via a card trick performed by magician Max Maven, and you won't catch me making fun of his pulled-tight ponytail and hocus-pocus airiness: I'm a magic fan, and admire Maven's skills. (As cornball as it looked, I'd love to get invited into that invitation-only Magic Castle, wouldn't you?)
Each chef's playing card revealed his or her theme for the main-competition dish: Surprise, Mystery, Spectacle, and Illusion. This was a tad unimaginative on the part of the producers. I mean, when it comes to cooking, is there really much difference between making something that's a surprise or an illusion?
Anyway, Harris was as articulate a judge as any of the professional ones surrounding him, pronouncing, for example, chef John Besh's icky-sounding horseradish and creme fraiche sorbet "executed as [well as] he had probably imagined."
I have to say that the winner [spoiler alert!] made a dish that looked -- well, chef Anita Lo covered up most of her "illusion" with another plate, so it didn't look like much to me, but Harris and the judges were impressed with her braised daikon with kombu caviar and steak tartare. Lo described it as "a seascape that if you listen really carefully will crackle," because she'd coated it with something like Rice Krispies. Personally, I think someone in charge of sound on Top Chef Masters should have put a microphone right on that plate, and if it didn't make a crackling sound, I'd have docked her a few points.
But once again, Top Chef Masters worked its overall charm: the competition brings out the best, not the worst, behavior in the competitors, making this one of the most civilized and pleasant of all summer reality-competition shows.
Mariah Carey apologized for her performance at yesterday's Michael Jackson memorial, saying she "wasn't able to pull it together and really do it right," and that she was "sorry." She made the comments via her Twitter page. Check out her version of "I'll Be There" and I'll tell you why I think she's being too hard on herself:
I don't think Carey has anything to apologize for. In fact, at a time when so many singers are trying for the kind of note-for-note "perfection" that shows like American Idol have convinced too much of the population is the way singers should sound, I found Carey's emotionally jagged performance all the more moving. Indeed, this is what first-rate pop singing is truly about: emotion expressed through the grain of the voice, not impeccable, often sterile, pitch and timbre.
Well, I guess it was only fitting that a cable channel with a goofy new re-branding should premiere a goofy new series: Syfy's Warehouse 13 is not, I think it's safe to say, the series that is going to replace Battlestar Galactica in the hearts and minds of us old Sci Fi network fans.
Did you watch this thing? Some unholy cross between The X-Files, Bones, and Raiders of the Lost Ark, Warehouse 13 gave us a couple of supposedly-mismatched, but we knew made-for-each-other, federal agents (Eddie McClintock and Joanne Kelly, looking at each other as if to say, "How many episodes of this did you sign up for?"). These two were teamed up with the caretaker of a storehouse of supernatural objects, played by the usually-fine actor Saul Rubinek.
There's a lot of talent here, both on and behind the camera. CCH Pounder, so great in The Shield, is an officious officer of some sort; she huffs and puffs without much effect. And the series was co-created by writer Jane Espenson, who's done such terrific work on BSG and Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Warehouse 13 lacks both chemistry between its stars and a clearly-defined "hook" beyond its vast acres of secret, fantasical items.
I suppose Syfy is hoping Warehouse will tap into the soft-sci-fi audience that enjoys Eureka -- which returns July 10 with new episodes -- but so far, Warehouse doesn't possess anything like Eureka's often-witty whimsy.
Bill O'Reilly launched a strikingly hostile "Talking Points Memo" attack against Michael Jackson this evening on The O'Reilly Factor. Announcing he was "fed up with the adulation" and "phony platitudes" of the Jackson memorial service, he labeled the sentiments expressed by the participants as "pathetic in the extreme."
O'Reilly criticizes Jackson for "spending millions of dollars on himself while singing 'We Are The World.'" Huh? Would O'Reilly say the same thing about other wealthy singers who performed on the original 1985 recording, such as Bruce Springsteen or Bob Dylan or Paul Simon? I doubt it. What happened to O'Reilly the ardent capitalist? Aren't we supposed to make and spend as much money as we want in America, and is charity work also "pathetic"?
Did you note that O'Reilly also ridicules CBS' Katie Couric for interviewing Kenneth Babyface Edmonds? He called their talk "surreal" because... well, as far as I can figure, for no reason other than to sneer at the producer-writer's nickname, Babyface. Bill O'Reilly thinks it's "bizarre" for a network anchor to interview an expert on Michael Jackson's music: Why? He probably could have used an expert on Jackson's music in his own studio this particular evening.
In one sense, it seems odd to review a memorial as though it was a television show. On the other hand, that's exactly what Michael Jackson's televised memorial was, and, really, what else could it have been, given the kind of born-in-his-blood entertainer that Jackson was?
With that in mind, and knowing that it's not just me who sat in front of the TV screen making value-judgments about various performances and testimonials -- you know you were, too -- here's what I thought were some high points, and some lesser moments.
• Smokey Robinson and Berry Gordy's spoken remembrances of Michael's abilities -- both of their senses of history and humor and affection -- were tremendously moving, particularly Robinson's songwriterly analysis of how Michael performed a definitive version of Robinson's own song, "Who's Loving You."
• Jermaine Jackson may not have given the most technically "perfect" performance of the memorial -- Jennifer Hudson, Usher, Stevie Wonder, to name just three, turned in superlative vocal efforts -- but I nonetheless found Jermaine's performance of what Brooke Shields told the assembled audience was "Michael's favorite song," "Smile," not just moving but a passionate R&B interpretation of a classic pop song:
• The Rev. Al Sharpton on Michael's life? Say what you will about the man, he knows how to coin a phrase: "It's not about the mess, it's the message." That may not always prove true as the years go by, but it was a rousing sentiment this day.
• Poor Queen Latifah spoke her own sentiments eloquently, but then was obliged to recite a perfectly dreadful piece of Maya Angelou poetry written for this occasion, called "We Had Him," which included the lines, "In the instant we learn that Michael is gone we know nothing," and "Though we are many, we are achingly alone," and "We had him, and we are the world."
• The best use of humor on this sad day must surely have been Magic Johnson's funny anecdote about visiting Jackson and being so happy to learn that Michael liked to tuck into a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken now and then. It was one of those down-to-earth, non-reverential moments that make a memorial vivid.
All in all, this was a remarkable, mostly-dignified event that still managed to capture the ordinary humanity of a great, complicated musician. What did you think?
Leading up to this afternoon's Michael Jackson memorial service, TV was doing its usual job when a mass-culture event such as this occurs: reporting with a mixture of accuracy and inaccuracy, sincerity and cynicism, knowledge and ignorance.
Some moments that caught my eyes and ears:
• NBC's Brian Williams reporting that Elizabeth Taylor had used Twitter to say she wouldn't be present for the "public hoopla" surrounding the memorial held at L.A.'s Staples Center. I did not know Liz Taylor Twittered.
• ABC's Martin Bashir boasting in one breath about his "unprecedented access" to Jackson, and in the next breath, whining about how he was "demonized" for his career-making interview with Jackson, Living With Michael Jackson. I felt a bad taste in my mouth. Click!
• On Fox News, sly Shepard Smith was noting reports of various celebrity attendees being seen in different places at the same time and adding, "Who knows? It's Michael Jackson's funeral: People may come with body-doubles." You gotta like Shep.
• Of course, Fox being Fox, another correspondent could not resist pointing out that the funeral procession to Forest Lawn included "10 Range Rovers sponsored by a local dealership," thus simultaneously giving a plug for Range Rover and implying there was something craven about the Jackson family using those cars, if indeed any of this was true.
• ABC's Charlie Gibson was the anchor whose calm demeanor I appreciated most. He didn't pretend to be a Jackson expert, and his questions were nearly always ones the average viewer would ask, seeking facts about attendance, security, and the mood of the crowd outside the Staples Center.
• On MSNBC, attorney Gloria Allred summed up 10,000 ignorant statements made over the past few days about Jackson's various controversies with this pearl of non-wisdom: "His fans could see [Jackson] singing and dancing, but of course they could never see what went on behind closed doors." And neither could you, Gloria, so put a sock in it!
