One day … ONE day after gushing over how exciting the recession is now that those forced to work jobs they hate or who have lost them entirely can focus on their passions, Natalie Portman bought herself a $3 million castle-like estate.
Natalie, whoever’s advising you … fire them. If no one’s advising you, find someone who doesn’t carry a small dog in their purse or dates someone who does. Look to the real world for help. Look to someone who’s spent a few years in a land where the zip codes don’t start with “9-0.” Someone who cares enough about you and your career to say (without any “Honey, babys”):
“Nat, past the gates of your community and away from the hills of Hollywood losing your job doesn’t fuel passion, it fuels despair, and working a job you hate is almost as bad because of the big black permanent ball of dread it plants in your gut. I know you dig Barack, I did too before he targeted my children and health care, but you can’t flak for his recession. That’s what the mainstream media is for. You have to empathize with your audience, build goodwill. Besides, you’re closing on that castle tomorrow, so today wouldn’t be a good time to get all gushy over how exciting Barack’s recession is. And if you do, I quit.”
Now I don’t mean to pick on Natalie (much), but this goes to a larger problem facing both Hollywood and those of us who love movies: The death of the movie star.
One of the big entertainment stories this year is how well starless films like “Star Trek,” “Up,” “The Hangover,” and “District 9” did while Johnny Depp, Christian Bale, Denzel Washington, Julia Roberts, John Travolta, Jack Black, Eddie Murphy, Leonardo DiCaprio, Russell Crowe, Will Ferrell, Jamie Foxx, Steve Martin, Robert Downey Jr., etc… fizzled in blockbusters and mainstream films aimed at a wide audience.
Once upon a time stars worked as a kind of insurance. No matter how good or bad the product, a strong opening weekend or two was assured followed by home video sales that pretty much guaranteed the film would at least break even. Once upon a time people wanted to see a INSERT NAME HERE movie.
No more.
Some will float excuses like the “Twitter Effect,” but that doesn’t explain crashing DVD sales or historically low ratings for the Academy Awards’ telecast. Spin it any way you want, thanks to a decade-plus of arrogant unforced errors and self-inflicted stupidity, we are no longer enamored with … The Movie Star.
The problem isn’t each individual star – who doesn’t love them some Denzel? – the problem is those damaging the brand as a whole. Airheads and insulting big mouths like Portman, Julia Roberts, George Clooney, Alec Baldwin, Streisand, Matt Damon, Sean Penn, Susan Sarandon, Tim Robbins…
Year after year after year the bad apples have so soured so many of us that we no longer look at the name above the title. We don’t care who’s in it. Instead it’s, “What’s the concept, is it safe or familiar?”
In other words, “I’d rather have my intelligence insulted than who I am or what I believe in.”
For those of us in love with the movies, this is an awful trend. We love being in love with movie stars. And we don’t care how they vote or live their lives… There were all kinds of liberal stars during the Golden Age who supported all kinds of causes. No one cared. I don’t care now.
The difference between John Garfield and Sean Penn isn’t talent or politics … it’s a little thing called “class.”
Just shut up and be awesome.
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