‘Drop Dead Fred’ and the Gendering of Comic Anarchy

There is a deeper truth here: by setting high expectations of men and offering models of liberated behavior that can be imitated, a strong male role model can be a young girl’s best mental defense against patriarchal conditioning. In the absence of one, Elizabeth has created an imaginary friend who models her mental resistance, gendering her own inner anarchic impulses as male.

Drop Dead Fred

 

For the uninitiated, Rik Mayall is what happens when you take a classic English punk from the Sex Pistols era, and tool him up with the comic attitude of Bill Hicks and the comic style of Jim Carrey. Though part of a wave of “alternative comedy,”  it was always Mayall who had the Hicksian snarl and the burning, Goatboy-style obsession with his own abjection. A major reason why Hicks found overnight comic stardom in the UK, after years struggling to gain acceptance in the USA, is because Rik Mayall had cultivated the British public’s taste for ferocious comedy anarchism. Mayall and Hicks are products of convergent evolution: unrelated creatures evolving resemblance from environmental similarities. Specifically: Rik Mayall and Bill Hicks were politely raised, intelligent, articulate, straight, white boys of above average height and looks, who spontaneously combusted into epic, punk rock guiltsplosions of belligerent basic decency and self-satirizing privilege, while feeling kinda bad that their raging libidos tempted them to objectify women. Add a feverish energy homaging his beloved Wile E. Coyote, that can only be compared to a punk Jim Carrey, and you’ve got the slapHicks, Rik Mayall. In 1991’s Drop Dead Fred, Mayall starred in a sharp deconstruction of the early-onset socialization of girls to reject their own anarchic impulses – one that films like Seth MacFarlane’s Ted have recycled into a far duller exploration of a man’s choice between his loudly celebrated childish impulses and his Mommy-lover-lady. In Drop Dead Fred the heroine’s own anarchic impulses, comic sense and anger at her mother have been more acceptably regendered as Mayall’s “Fred,” while she herself can be squeezed into an icon of servile ladylike behaviour.

Phoebe Cates

 

Drop Dead Fred opens with Marsha Mason’s patriarchal mother reading a fairy-tale to the young Elizabeth, telling her that the princess received her happy ending “because she was a good little girl. If she had been naughty, the prince would have run away.” Young Elizabeth considers for a moment, then fires back “what a pile of shit,” healthily immune to social pressures to value herself by a man. Flash forward to adulthood, and Phoebe Cates’ Elizabeth has become pressured into the ideal Mommy-lover-lady of patriarchy, wearing demure floral gowns and fussing over her paternalist, condescending husband’s clothing and shaving. Gradually, we learn that Elizabeth’s mother had blamed her anarchic, destructive behavior in childhood for making her distant father run away, like the prince of the fairy tale who abandons naughty princesses. With her imaginary friend, Drop Dead Fred, being sealed away in a jack-in-the-box on the very day that her father departs, and with her father sharing Fred’s English accent in an otherwise American cast, the film wears its Daddy issues on its sleeve.

Drop Dead Fred is a Dream Father who is a radically present, anti-materialist, anti-provider, implying criticism of the traditional role of fathers, in the same way that the film challenges the traditional conditioning of girls to passive and submissive “goodness.” By standing up to Elizabeth’s mother in all the ways her own father fails to, Fred models self-assertion to her, rather than grooming her to self-sacrificing compliance. There is a deeper truth here: by setting high expectations of men and offering models of liberated behavior that can be imitated, a strong male role model can be a young girl’s best mental defense against patriarchal conditioning. In the absence of one, Elizabeth has created an imaginary friend who models her mental resistance, gendering her own inner anarchic impulses as male.

Fred & Elizabeth

 

The adult Elizabeth must finally learn that the sealing away of Drop Dead Fred represented the sealing up of the part of herself that society had coded as masculine: namely, her assertiveness, her anti-conformity and her anarchic disdain for social norms. When her unfaithful husband boasts that he has Elizabeth under control, he feeds her green pills to kill her “imaginary friend” and force her back into tranquilized Mommy-lover-lady perfection, pills that represent rewarded conformity as much as the blue pills of The Matrix. While its patriarchal mother is a figure to be resisted, Drop Dead Fred also showcases positive female friendship and solidarity between Phoebe Cates’ Elizabeth and Carrie Fisher’s Janie. Janie unquestioningly accepts Elizabeth’s accounts of Fred and seeks to fight him on her behalf, curtly telling her older lover that this is “girl stuff.” Yes, apart from the imaginary Fred, all the men of this film are the stuffy, unimaginative equivalent to mainstream cinema’s Mommy-lover-ladies, while battling your anarchic imaginary friend is “girl stuff.” I would say that Drop Dead Fred is “Ted for girls” or “Fight Club for kids,” but it predates both.

Rarely has a showbiz marriage been more divinely inspired than Drop Dead Fred‘s between Elizabeth Livingston’s story of imaginary, anarchic male role models, and Rik Mayall’s self-deprecating punk. A man whose entire career was founded on savage interrogations of toxic masculinity, Mayall was offered a chance to reimagine himself through Elizabeth’s perspective, as a being whose natural anarchism was a liberating force for women. It is impossible to overemphasize how intensely Rik Mayall’s self-authored (or any male-authored) image of Rik Mayall lacked all sense that Mayall’s characters could be good for women. He blossoms visibly in Drop Dead Fred. Watch his interactions with the young Elizabeth. Yes, it’s manic Mayall, but see how wholly his energy is focussed on responding enthusiastically to whatever the little girl gives him? See how visibly thrilled and emboldened that little girl is by his attentive encouragement? See how Phoebe Cates reveals entirely unexpected comic talent as a mime, when wrestling an invisible Fred, and even the brilliantly brassy Carrie Fisher gives her wildest comic performance in a knock-down, drag-out imaginary fight with exactly the physical humor that women are routinely, subtly discouraged from? Rik Mayall was finally cast as a catalyst for female self-expression, so he catalyzed every actress in the film to gleeful unruliness.

Anarchy is a state of mind, not a material state, as many Marxists learn when attempting to enforce their materialist philosophies of antimaterialism (so much devastating humanitarian tragedy that could have been avoided if communist regimes carefully studied “Rik the accidentally authoritarian anarchist snot” from Mayall’s sitcom The Young Ones and cultivated a sense of thunderingly obvious irony). The point is not to sink a houseboat, but to value the adventure over the boat. Not to chop a little girl’s hair, but to teach her that it is irrelevant to her worth. Note also that, while playfully childish sexuality is part of his persona, Fred never sexualizes Phoebe Cates’ Elizabeth. Not ironically. Not jokingly-not-jokingly, to subtly put her in her place. He is her anarchist Dream Father, and he Dream Fathers her with wholehearted focus on her personhood and self-assertion. Rarely, if ever, has a larger-than-life comedian given a performance more generously dedicated to the actual purpose of his role. If you can see Rik freaking Mayall, decked out in hideous fashion and wildly clashing hair that is as classically punk as it is childish, earnestly mentoring a little girl in the joys of antimaterialist, anarcho-punk self-actualization without being moved, then surely you have a heart of stone. Far from selling out, Rik Mayall’s Hollywood family film was the most truly punk statement he ever made.

 [youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgh27gCgiQw”]

Drop Dead Fred finally justifies the endlessly abused loyalty of women like me to male comedians like Rik Mayall, Richard Pryor, Bill Hicks, Monty Python, Trey Parker or the Farrelly Brothers. Like the character of Drop Dead Fred himself, each combines an off-putting, abrasive surface sexism with more profound lapses in empathy for female perspectives, but their comic purpose remains egalitarian mental liberation. As women, we are conditioned to express admiration for such men by rewarding them sexually, rather than by identifying, imitating and integrating the qualities we are actually drawn to. As little Elizabeth might say, what a pile of shit.

 


Brigit McCone loves her some comic anarchy. She writes and directs short films and radio dramas. Her hobbies include doodling and clicking this link

Meg Griffin vs. Tina Belcher: A Feminist’s Take on Beanies and Butts

The primary difference between Meg and Tina is that Tina comes from a loving and supportive environment, whereas Meg does not. Tina’s parents accept her unconditionally, despite her displaying much of the same repressed eroticism as Meg. She writes “erotic friend fiction,” eagerly shares fantasies of dating an entire zombie football team at once, and does little to hide her attraction to the family dentist. Hell, her defining characteristic is an obsession with butts, an obvious manifestation of tween lust that has inspired a spectacular increase in pro-butt artwork across the internet.

meg_griffin
Meg Griffin
burgers_tina
Tina Belcher

Written by Erin Tatum

One of my favorite things about fall is watching the majority of my favorite shows come back from hiatus. I’ve been a loyal viewer of Fox’s Animation Domination Sunday night lineup for years. Naturally, I was excited when I heard that Family Guy was doing a crossover with The Simpsons for their season premiere.

I watched it and I was underwhelmed for the same reasons that I was surprised that the crossover was happening in the first place – the tonal discord between the bumbling yet endearing Simpsons and the aggressive and insensitive Griffins was palpable. What followed was a particularly uncomfortable 45 minutes of television.

Lisa encourages Meg to find her hidden talent by offering to let her play her prized saxophone.
Lisa encourages Meg to find her hidden talent by offering to let her play her prized saxophone.

I was especially bothered by the decision to pair Meg with Lisa for a cringe-inducing B plot. Basically, Lisa takes pity on Meg after witnessing her rock-bottom self-esteem and spends the episode trying to convince her that she’s good at something. It turns out Meg is an even better saxophone player than Lisa, causing Lisa to feel threatened and dismiss Meg’s talent in a moment of uncharacteristic cruelty.

Lisa is a much more three-dimensional character than Meg will ever be. She has incredibly well formulated views on feminism and politics at the age of eight, whereas Meg is more or less a human punching bag for just about everyone in the Family Guy universe. There’s really no comparison, so the plot fell flat.

I’ve been debating breaking up with Family Guy for quite a long time. The jokes are offensive, the plots are merely filler in between cutaway gags, and every single character is terrible. I remember thinking it was cutting-edge satire as a young teen and being absolutely thrilled by it, mainly because it was by far the raunchiest show that my mother (begrudgingly) allowed me to watch. But times have changed. Above all, the one thing that has consistently repulsed me as an adult is the show’s treatment of Meg.

Lois, Meg's mother, shows little sympathy or patience when dealing with Meg, who often turns to drugs and self-harm to cope.
Lois, Meg’s mother, shows little sympathy or patience when dealing with Meg, who often turns to drugs and self-harm to cope.

Meg is a 17-year-old girl who’s not conventionally attractive. That’s the entire punchline, which creator Seth MacFarlane apparently thought was substantial enough to make Meg’s abuse the most prominent running “joke” season after season. Oddly, her character started out as a pretty generic teenage girl, but I guess it’s not funny without misogyny! Meg is belittled by not only her family, but the entire town. Her sense of self worth is frequently eroded by negative remarks about her appearance and weight. Most notably, her sexuality is treated with absolute disgust. You can count on anything related to Meg and sex or romance to be handled as gross-out comedy.

Meg kidnaps Brian after becoming infatuated with him following a drunken make out at prom.
Meg kidnaps Brian after becoming infatuated with him following their drunken make out session at her  prom.

While we’re on the subject, let’s talk about more of Meg’s lowlights. It’s implied that she uses hot dogs to masturbate. She makes out with Brian (yes, the dog) and briefly becomes his deranged stalker after he refuses her further advances. She has a short-lived boyfriend that’s committed to abstinence, only to have him dump her at the end of the episode after seeing her naked body.  Peter, her own father, attempts to molest her during a cutaway gag and it’s played for laughs. Meg even unknowingly makes out with Chris (her brother) during a costume party. Following the revelation, Meg plays up the previous night to her oblivious parents, saying that she hopes the boy will call. Standing next to her, Chris unenthusiastically replies “Don’t count on it.”

Meg is horrified to realize she's been making out with chris.
Meg is horrified to realize she’s been making out with Chris.

Haha! Because it’s an insult that even your brother wouldn’t want you sexually! Bizarrely, incest is routinely used to highlight just how undesirable Meg is. Why? Who knows. Meg is supposed to represent even lower standards than incest, I guess.

The Griffins' creepy pervert neighbor, Quagmire, repeatedly attempts to seduce an unwitting Meg with various acts of kindness.
The Griffins’ creepy pervert neighbor, Quagmire, repeatedly attempts to seduce an unwitting Meg with various acts of kindness.

The audience is encouraged to mock Meg for being an insecure teenage girl. She is the only female character who can’t be treated as a traditional sex object, which invalidates her right to be treated with respect. Plus, you know, that whole perception of teenage girls as emotional and frivolous and silly and therefore that makes it fair game to trivialize their thoughts and feelings for like seven years. Too bad Meg is permanently stuck in adolescence.

This already paperthin premise is further validated by the fact that everyone else is an awful human being with no motive  for any of their actions beyond their own self absorption. It makes no sense to put so much effort into treating Meg like shit when all they care about is getting whatever they want. There’s nothing to gain in keeping her down. And, barring several neglect fueled outbursts of depravity, Meg arguably has the greatest sense of empathy and compassion out of the entire cast (albeit that the bar isn’t high) due to her low self-esteem. It’s misogyny for misogyny’s sake.

Tina takes a part in 'Working Girl' in the S5 premiere to try and get closer to her crush.
Tina takes a part in ‘Working Girl’ in the S5 premiere to try and get closer to her crush.

I watched Bob’s Burgers premiere the following Sunday and was, as usual, charmed and utterly delighted by the Belcher’s 13-year-old daughter, Tina. I realized that Tina finally offered me a framework to articulate all the things that were wrong with Meg and how she’s portrayed.

Unlike Lisa, Tina’s characterization is fairly similar to Meg, at least on the surface. Tina is socially awkward, frumpy, and uncomfortably sexual on occasion. She’s voiced by a man (Dan Mintz) who makes no attempt whatsoever to make his voice more feminine. If this were Family Guy, that alone would be the catalyst for an onslaught of sexist and probably transphobic jokes. However, about 97 percent of the women on Bob’s Burgers are voiced by men. Baritone is clearly en vogue for the ladies. It’s never used as a punchline and the show pretty much naturalizes it. By the end of an episode, I forget that almost all the women have male voice actors because no one is gunning to designate them as less feminine.

Words of wisdom.
Words of wisdom.

And there’s the kicker: everyone in Bob’s Burgers acknowledges that everyone is weird! Femininity or female sexuality is not a source of shame because gender isn’t a spectacle! They’re all quirky for their own reasons that have nothing to do with how well they conform to gender expectations or the way they express themselves sexually. Bob is friends with a number of transgender escorts and takes their flirting in good stride, even enjoying the attention. He’s propositioned by a male grocery store worker at Thanksgiving and bashfully declines, adding that he’s “mostly straight.” There’s not a superiority hierarchy among characters because they all know that they aren’t in a position to judge anyone else, nor do they have any desire to.

Linda cheers Tina's decision to write erotic friend fiction.
Linda, Tina’s mom, cheers Tina’s decision to write erotic friend fiction.

The primary difference between Meg and Tina is that Tina comes from a loving and supportive environment, whereas Meg does not. Tina’s parents accept her unconditionally, despite her displaying much of the same repressed eroticism as Meg. She writes “erotic friend fiction,” eagerly shares fantasies of dating an entire zombie football team at once, and does little to hide her attraction to the family dentist. Hell, her defining characteristic is an obsession with butts, an obvious manifestation of tween lust that has inspired a spectacular increase in pro-butt artwork across the internet.

Tina has a deep admiration for butts.
Tina has a deep admiration for butts.

The Belchers never shame Tina for her desires or try to bully her into changing her behavior. She’s not grotesque, it’s just who she is and her family embraces her regardless. They respond to her momentary teenage dismay and heartbreak with gentle encouragement. If anything, her idiosyncrasies make them stronger as a family. They gather strength from the individual uniqueness of each family member, rather than seek out a black sheep to vilify and take focus off everyone else’s flaws. Tina feels comfortable in her own skin and has an incredible sense of confidence for a 13-year-old.

It is a little disheartening to compare her to Meg because that’s when you really see all of the latter’s wasted potential.  Meg could have and arguably should have been Tina, but MacFarlane was too easily seduced by the promise of cheap laughs. Tina is certainly a source of comedy, but in a way that’s endearing. She reminds you of middle school awkwardness and the time you felt like your heart “pooped its pants” because your crush didn’t like you back. Whenever Meg comes on screen, I feel like I’m either about to witness harassment or a sex crime.

Dear Seth MarFarlane
Dear Seth MarFarlane

Forget mingling with the Simpsons. Once Meg turns 18, she should get the hell out of Quahog and move in with the Belchers.

...and they all live happily ever after.
…and they all lived happily ever after.

_________________________________________________________________________

Erin Tatum is a recent graduate of UC Berkeley, where she majored in film and minored in LGBT studies. She is incredibly interested in social justice, media representation, intersectional feminism, and queer theory. British television and Netflix consume way too much of her time. She is particularly fascinated by the portrayal of sexuality and ability in television.

 

5 People Who Should Host the Oscars At Some Point

When Seth MacFarlane was picked to host the 2013 Academy Awards, my esteemed colleague Robin Hitchcock wrote a list of preferable hosts, including the Oogieloves, the Romney sons, and Jennifer Aniston handcuffed to Angelina Jolie. I share many of Robin’s criticisms of him and his mean style of comedy that continually marginalizes already-marginalized people. Occasionally, his jokes can make me laugh very hard (such as the “Fuck You, Thunder!” song from Ted), but those occasions are increasingly rare. I also can’t understand the logic behind picking MacFarlane even from a ratings standpoint; are fans of Seth MacFarlane’s comedy really going to tune into the Academy Awards instead of Seth MacFarlane’s animated shows that air at the same time? Even if the episodes are reruns that night?

A rare inspired bit of MacFarlane comedy

Anyway, MacFarlane’s hosting is a done deal, and I’m going to watch the ceremony no matter who’s hosting. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be a pleasant surprise. For future ceremonies, though, I’d like to see the Academy stop trying to appeal to a younger demographic (remember that disaster with James Franco and Anne Hathaway?) and stick to picking people who will just do a good job. Here are my suggestions for future Oscar hosts, presented in no particular order.  

1. Tom Hanks
I would love for the Academy to break its pattern of picking straight white guys, believe me, but I’ll make an exception for Tom Hanks, because Tom Hanks needs to host the Oscars.Tom Hanks is a national treasure. He’s a very good actor, personable, hilarious, and willing to take the piss out of everyone and everything, especially himself. I still remember Steve Martin’s joke from his first hosting gig: “There’s been an update in the plot to kidnap Russell Crowe, and all I have to say is – Tom Hanks, I’m very ashamed of you.” Martin’s joke was funny enough on its own, but then the camera cut to Hanks in the audience looking shame-faced and mouthing, “I’m sorry,” which made it hilarious and memorable.

Also, he did slam poetry about Full House on Jimmy Fallon’s show.

Tom Hanks is a likable guy, and his humor is very surprising and unpredictable without being obnoxiously “edgy” in a “look at me, I’m so edgy because I’m un-PC!” way. Make it happen, Academy.

2. Emma Thompson

Homer Simpson once said about Daniel Craig, “Is America ready for a British James Bond?” (Oh, Homer. Never change.) Others may have a similar question about Emma Thompson: “Is America ready for a British Oscar host?” Well, this American is. Emma Thompson is a multi-talented, classy lady, a renowned actress (and my personal favorite). Sometimes people forget how funny she can be. If you need a reminder, check out her Golden Globes acceptance speech for Sense and Sensibility, where her speech was written in the style of Jane Austen.

Sure, Jane Austen-related humor isn’t going to appeal to every Oscar viewer, but Thompson is versatile in the type of comedy she can do (and has done). She’s charming and witty, and she’d probably completely outclass the joint, which is why the Academy would never pick her, but they should.

3. Neil Patrick Harris and Jane Lynch

Two obvious choices, as they’ve both hosted award shows in recent history, but why not have them host together in an awesomely funny LGBTQ duo? They both know how to sing and dance, they had comic chemistry in the one episode of Glee they did together, and their stars are both on the rise without any sign of stopping.

I want to see this pair in action. Harris is halfway to a hosting EGOT already (if there were such a thing), and I still laugh when I remember this joke from Lynch at the Emmys: “People have often asked me why I’m a lesbian. Ladies and gentlemen, the cast of Entourage!”

4. Samuel L. Jackson

Everyone likes Samuel L. Jackson. If I meet a person who dislikes Samuel L. Jackson, I automatically find that person untrustworthy. I haven’t seen him in any kind of hosting capacity, but he’s got a great sense of humor and natural charm, and he’s one of the few potential Oscar hosts that could appeal to the stuffy Academy snobs and the populist youth demographic the Academy desperately courts every year.

Also, consider this: if Samuel L. Jackson hosts the Oscars, we can have a montage of Samuel L. Jackson movies at some point, because why not? (Side note: he totally should’ve been nominated for Django Unchained, by the way.) 

5. The Muppets

You think I am kidding. I am not. I don’t care if the pupeteering logistics would make this difficult. Kermit would be the best host ever, Miss Piggy could try to steal attention from the other actresses, Fozzie could write all of the awards patter, and Gonzo can choreograph stunts and chicken dance numbers set to the Best Original Score nominees while Statler & Waldorf heckle them. We can even have the Sesame Street Muppets make an appearance so there can be an actual Oscar at the Oscars.

This needs to happen.

Lady T is an aspiring writer and comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at The Funny Feminist, where she picks apart entertainment and reviews movies she hasn’t seen.

5 People Who Should Host the Oscars At Some Point

When Seth MacFarlane was picked to host the 2013 Academy Awards, my esteemed colleague Robin Hitchcock wrote a list of preferable hosts, including the Oogieloves, the Romney sons, and Jennifer Aniston handcuffed to Angelina Jolie. I share many of Robin’s criticisms of him and his mean style of comedy that continually marginalizes already-marginalized people. Occasionally, his jokes can make me laugh very hard (such as the “Fuck You, Thunder!” song from Ted), but those occasions are increasingly rare. I also can’t understand the logic behind picking MacFarlane even from a ratings standpoint; are fans of Seth MacFarlane’s comedy really going to tune into the Academy Awards instead of Seth MacFarlane’s animated shows that air at the same time? Even if the episodes are reruns that night?

A rare inspired bit of MacFarlane comedy

Anyway, MacFarlane’s hosting is a done deal, and I’m going to watch the ceremony no matter who’s hosting. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be a pleasant surprise. For future ceremonies, though, I’d like to see the Academy stop trying to appeal to a younger demographic (remember that disaster with James Franco and Anne Hathaway?) and stick to picking people who will just do a good job. Here are my suggestions for future Oscar hosts, presented in no particular order.  

1. Tom HanksI would love for the Academy to break its pattern of picking straight white guys, believe me, but I’ll make an exception for Tom Hanks, because Tom Hanks needs to host the Oscars.Tom Hanks is a national treasure. He’s a very good actor, personable, hilarious, and willing to take the piss out of everyone and everything, especially himself. I still remember Steve Martin’s joke from his first hosting gig: “There’s been an update in the plot to kidnap Russell Crowe, and all I have to say is – Tom Hanks, I’m very ashamed of you.” Martin’s joke was funny enough on its own, but then the camera cut to Hanks in the audience looking shame-faced and mouthing, “I’m sorry,” which made it hilarious and memorable.

Also, he did slam poetry about Full House on Jimmy Fallon’s show.

Tom Hanks is a likable guy, and his humor is very surprising and unpredictable without being obnoxiously “edgy” in a “look at me, I’m so edgy because I’m un-PC!” way. Make it happen, Academy.

2. Emma Thompson

Homer Simpson once said about Daniel Craig, “Is America ready for a British James Bond?” (Oh, Homer. Never change.) Others may have a similar question about Emma Thompson: “Is America ready for a British Oscar host?” Well, this American is. Emma Thompson is a multi-talented, classy lady, a renowned actress (and my personal favorite). Sometimes people forget how funny she can be. If you need a reminder, check out her Golden Globes acceptance speech for Sense and Sensibility, where her speech was written in the style of Jane Austen.

Sure, Jane Austen-related humor isn’t going to appeal to every Oscar viewer, but Thompson is versatile in the type of comedy she can do (and has done). She’s charming and witty, and she’d probably completely outclass the joint, which is why the Academy would never pick her, but they should.

3. Neil Patrick Harris and Jane Lynch

Two obvious choices, as they’ve both hosted award shows in recent history, but why not have them host together in an awesomely funny LGBTQ duo? They both know how to sing and dance, they had comic chemistry in the one episode of Glee they did together, and their stars are both on the rise without any sign of stopping.

I want to see this pair in action. Harris is halfway to a hosting EGOT already (if there were such a thing), and I still laugh when I remember this joke from Lynch at the Emmys: “People have often asked me why I’m a lesbian. Ladies and gentlemen, the cast of Entourage!”

4. Samuel L. Jackson

Everyone likes Samuel L. Jackson. If I meet a person who dislikes Samuel L. Jackson, I automatically find that person untrustworthy. I haven’t seen him in any kind of hosting capacity, but he’s got a great sense of humor and natural charm, and he’s one of the few potential Oscar hosts that could appeal to the stuffy Academy snobs and the populist youth demographic the Academy desperately courts every year.

Also, consider this: if Samuel L. Jackson hosts the Oscars, we can have a montage of Samuel L. Jackson movies at some point, because why not? (Side note: he totally should’ve been nominated for Django Unchained, by the way.) 

5. The Muppets

You think I am kidding. I am not. I don’t care if the pupeteering logistics would make this difficult. Kermit would be the best host ever, Miss Piggy could try to steal attention from the other actresses, Fozzie could write all of the awards patter, and Gonzo can choreograph stunts and chicken dance numbers set to the Best Original Score nominees while Statler & Waldorf heckle them. We can even have the Sesame Street Muppets make an appearance so there can be an actual Oscar at the Oscars.

This needs to happen.

Lady T is a writer with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at www.theresabasile.com

Damning ‘Ted’ with Faint Praise

Mark Wahlberg and Mila Kunis in Ted.
As I’ve written on Bitch Flicks before, I’m not a fan of Seth MacFarlane’s work. I must admit, when I selected his feature-film debut Ted for my in-flight entertainment during my long trip back to the States for Thanksgiving, I was expecting it to be a diverting “hate watch” that would give me fodder for an easy-to-write negative post for this site, something I could quickly crunch out in between turkey and pie without missing too much family time.
But, alas, I sort of enjoyed Ted. It made me laugh out loud over a dozen times, even though I was watching it through headphones surrounded by hundreds of strangers probably watching The Amazing Spider-Man, and even though every time I laugh at something Seth MacFarlane is responsible for I feel like a hypocrite at best, if not a morally reprehensible enemy of human decency and storytelling itself.
Then again, Ted proves that Seth MacFarlane is capable of presenting jokes within the confines of a meaningful narrative, and of deriving comedy from plot and character interaction instead of meaningless cutaways to pop cultural name-checks. This is a huge step forward for MacFarlane, finally putting him on par with, well, pretty much everyone who has ever told a story or a joke to any level of success, including your Uncle Morris at last night’s dinner when he regaled the family with the tale of how he almost got arrested during last year’s Black Friday.
Unfortunately, the story that Ted tells is an uninspired and sexist Apotovian tale of man-child John (Mark Wahlberg), whose failure to launch into adulthood threatens his relationship with a Good Woman (Mila Kunis). The “twist” is that John’s connections to his immature life of hedonism are represented by his relationship with his lifelong best friend and roommate, Ted (voiced by Seth MacFarlane), a plush teddy bear come to life from a childhood wish. [DO YOU GET IT? John can’t be an adult because of his relationship with a CHILDHOOD TOY.]
Perhaps I’m so enchanted by MacFarlane’s ability to stick to a narrative to begin with because I’m so tremendously BORED with the pedestrian sexism of his chosen narrative. The Man-Child’s struggle to adapt to the demands of his Mature and Responsible Woman who Improbably Tolerates Him is soooooo 2007. There is nothing more to say about the sexism of this trope. I’m falling asleep thinking about it.
Which leaves only semi-positive notes like, hey, that Mark Wahlberg sure is charming, and Mila Kunis really is doing all she can to redeem this crap role; and wow, this CGI is pretty great, at least on a 3-inch screen on an airplane seat back. It’s so astonishing to me that Ted is a competent film it becomes all too easy to dismiss its entirely expected and uninteresting sexism. So I won’t do that. Ted is sexist. But I’m still impressed and surprised that it isn’t entirely terrible.

Oscar Hosts Preferable to Seth MacFarlane: An Abbreviated List

Seth MacFarlane, unpleasant person and recently-announced host of the 85th Annual Academy Awards 
Seth MacFarlane has been tapped to host the 85th Annual Academy Awards next February.  MacFarlane is the creator of The Family Guy and several other animated television programs (American Dad, The Cleveland Show) known for their blatant hostility toward women, people of color, the LGBTQ community, and the basic tenets of comedic storytelling.  MacFarlane’s first motion picture, Ted, was a box office hit last summer.  He can sing and do funny voices and he looks pretty good in a tux.  The producers of the Academy Awards ceremony are hoping he can bring in his lucrative young male demographic to boost the declining ratings for the Oscars telecast.  [And I guess they already forgot about that whole debacle with Brett Ratner and Eddie Murphy last year.]
While it’s possible MacFarlane as host will bring in droves of 18-year-old boys to watch montages celebrating old movies they’ve never heard of interspersed with awards being granted to movies they’ll never watch, the Academy Awards have alienated at least one lifelong die-hard Oscars fanatic: me.  
It’s hard for me to think of someone I’d be less excited about seeing host the Oscars than Seth MacFarlane.  Instead, I humbly present an abbreviated list of potential Oscar hosts I think would do a better job:
1. Miley Cyrus

2. Billy Ray Cyrus
3. James Franco in a wig made from Anne Hathaway’s Les Mis chop
4. Tom Brokaw after half an Ambien
5. A brigade of mimes from Cirque du Soleil
6. Ben Affleck and Matt Damon [The 90s are BACK, people!]
7. On that note, how about reuniting the dynamic duo of the 1994 Oscars:

Oprah. Uma.
8. The Oogieloves
9. Anne Curry
10. One of the lesser Kardashians
11. A fully-articlated Oscar statuette, played by Andy Serkis in mo-cap, IN 3D
12. The Romney Sons
13. The cast of The Avengers dressed as the “Let’s All Go to the Lobby” snacks
Sam Jackson can play the popcorn.
14. The cast of Magic Mike in fat suits, because LULZ 
15. Jennifer Aniston handcuffed to Angelina Jolie
16. Suri Cruise with a Speak & Spell
17. Mrs. Knerr, my first grade teacher
18. This guy:
That blue bodybuilder dude from Prometheus
19. The reanimated corpse of Bob Hope
20. The reanimated corpse of [insert non-dead previous host, but not Billy Crystal, I like him]
21. Clint Eastwood, live via satellite from an empty furniture store
22. The Fandango lunch bag puppets
23. Daniel Day-Lewis in character as Lincoln and Bill Murray in character as FDR
24. The last five hosts of the Sci-Tech awards, mud wrestling
25. Jay Leno. I mean it: Jay. Leno. I would rather watch Jay Leno host the Oscars than Seth MacFarlane. Let that sink in. Think about what that means. Jay Leno would be better. Did you ever think those words would appear on the internet? Well there they are, and they are true.
    Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town, South Africa. Her actual proposed Oscar host is Paul Rudd.