The Foreman

The death of director extraordinaire Milos Forman this week makes one remember a time when movies were movies.

What do we mean by that?

Well, quite simply, he didn’t have a genre. He wasn’t an actor’s director. And his films weren’t all about how they looked, or how they were edited or how they sounded.

He didn’t really have a STYLE.

His movies were not all about the MESSAGE they sent.

Once upon a time, in a world that grows farther and farther away, movies were simply stories. About people. Who wanted something that was difficult or near impossible to get.

Tell em Norma!

They had real and imagined obstacles to get these things and whether they did or did not get them it was usually, at the end of the day, only about a handful of simple things: love, family, justice, or simply finding a place to belong where they could feel less alone.

This is generally why we tell stories. Yes, to be heard. But mostly, to feel less alone.

Oh you know.. just these little known films

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975)

Hair (1979)

Ragtime (1981)

Amadeus (1984)

Valmont (1989)

The People vs Larry Flynt (1996)

Man on the Moon (1999)

Every one of them was about a recognizable person living on this planet. NONE of them had superpowers or were set safely in a dystopian future or reimagined past.

This is not a knock to sci-fi or action or horror or even the Marvel Universe. They can make for great stories on both the big and small screen. Heck, they’re even the setting for some cool books. Anyone remember those?

Allow me to get out my sweater…

These days we have a ton of imagined worlds and past, future and parallel-present imposing end-of-the-universe experiences. There is no lack of people who have cyborg-ish limbs which can throw an object the size of, say, the Empire State Building, from one coast to the other. Or perhaps even THE Empire State Building.

What we don’t have anymore are future movies from filmmakers like Milos Forman and very many film studios or large production companies willing to finance them.

Every detail indeed

One can argue every film creates its own pushed reality and exists in an alternate universe with larger than life characters not entirely of this world. Certainly Mr. Forman’s movies did just that.

I remember very distinctly seeing Hair at the Cinerama Dome in Hollywood and being transported into a 1960s universe in Central Park exactly how I wished it could be – but probably never was – with the help of sound, editing and great music that enabled a group of joyous actors to simply do their thing.

Sing it with me now…. AGE OF AQUAAAAARIUS

Or the anger and rage at the government that The People vs Larry Flynt gave voice to at what still felt like for me to be the height of the AIDS crisis.

Not to mention the comic hysteria and sheer tribute to artistic will expressed in Man on the Moon that somehow became oddly healing to a generation of us moviegoers still idealistic enough to believe somewhere deep down that iconoclastic comedian Andy Kaufman had not really died of cancer at the age of 35.

Or how the behaviors of all the supposedly insane characters in One Flew Cuckoo’s Nest exactly mirrored what all of the rest of us normal people on the outside saw or even exhibited on any given day in the 1970s.

Me then, and let’s be honest, me now

And, finally — the way the same group of petty, racist and haughty rich, straight white people manage to show up generation after generation, in decade after decade in various modes of dress illustrated in films like Amadeus, Ragtime and Valmont – films that managed to give many of us OTHERS hope because they showed us categorically that the Haughties will always be defeated either by themselves or some other group of more thoughtful and ingenious OTHERS. People who were, more or less, just like us.

Mr. Forman made just seven major studio movies in over 24 years where he managed to win two best director Oscars for himself, another two best picture Oscars for his producers and countless other nominations in pretty much every other category of excellence offered by the Academy and elsewhere all over the world.

Thanks Milos

These films also generated enough revenue, attention and critical acclaim for him to be given subsequent chance after chance (nee $$$) by the powers-that-be to produce the kind of work that would change the lives of several generations of filmgoers, many of them aspiring artists themselves who would go on to inspire still others, in the process. (Note: And if you think those facts are being overstated, just read the endless tributes on Twitter).

Point being, this was all done without EVER having to leave the planet, imagining a dystopic and/or end of the world scenario, inventing a superpower or coming up with a single tacky line, scene or sequence offensive enough to alienate any one marginalized group of people.

Some might say, Well, everything was different back then.

To which we all might consider the one question that all of Mr. Forman’s films did manage to ask – and answer:

Were they, really?

Randy Newman, “Theme from Ragtime”

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That Girl

This week, The Chair finds himself off recruiting young minds for the resistance (what else?).  But fear not! Pop culture criticism must go on!

In a fascinating example of film reconsideration, Molly Ringwald (in a piece for the New Yorker) revisited her classic film The Breakfast Club — a film that just recently entered the highly sought after Criterion Collection shelf space (like I didn’t already order my copy? please). Her reassessment of the film in light of the #MeToo and Time’s Up movement makes for a provocative piece. With the Chair’s blessing… here’s a critical read that does not feature a porn star or a President (can I get an Amen?!):

Click here for Ringwald’s article!

Let’s Hear it for the Boy…cott!

I won’t watch the reboot of Roseanne on ABC. This does not mean I am close-minded, want her removed from the airwaves or in any way prefer she is silenced, censored or modified.

It doesn’t even mean I am angry that 18.1 million people tuned in to watch her in actual real time – an unheard of number for the premiere of a prime time network show these days.

Nor does it say I want to opt out of the national conversation or give up my status as an incurable, inveterate culture vulture.

Wink #hehehe

It simply means I want no part of a woman who in March 2018 basks in the glory of a congratulatory phone call from Donald J. Trump, enthusing of the exchange the day after her ratings triumph:

It was pretty exciting, I’ll tell you that much…They said, ‘Hold please for the President of the United States of America’ and that was about the most exciting thing, ever. It was just very sweet of him to congratulate us. 

I find nothing about Trump exciting, and certainly never sweet. I believe he is destroying our country, and democracy along with it, by his corruption, his racism, his incompetence and his vile treatment towards anyone or anything that opposes him.

Oh is that all???

I believe deep down that if he got his way we would not only be under the thumb of Russia, we would BE RUSSIA.

I also find everything the actual Roseanne is pushing under the guise of her fictional doppelganger to be disingenuous. Like Trump, I am convinced she is first and foremost out for herself – using our red vs. blue divide as a way to once again be relevant and earn wheel barrels full of money.

Roseanne is definitely hitting the slopes

The thought of giving her 150,000th of one single penny is even more nauseating to me than eating a side of the watery canned peas and carrots my mom used to serve to us at dinner every week – and that’s really saying something. (Note: DM me on Twitter for my sister’s handle and she will confirm).

The same cannot be said about Fox TV host Laura Ingraham and what I hope is her curtailment at her network and elsewhere after she chose to bully and gloat about David Hogg, high school student and Parkland school shooting survivor, NOT getting into four of the colleges he applied to.

By consistently demonizing the teenager, not to mention his friends, who had just witnessed 14 of their friends shot to death before their own ears and/or eyes on Valentine’s Day, Ingraham and her colleagues at Fox have been the leaders of a right wing media assault of ADULTS hoping to make these TEENAGERS the subject of national ridicule by millions more of their viewers by fanning the flames of resentment that will implicitly urge as many of their acolytes as possible to go on virtual attack.

Nothing would please me more than seeing Ms. Ingraham’s ambitions flattened and watching the fire-breathing flames of hate she espouses daily turned directly back at her. And with the help of Mr. Hogg and others far more powerful than me and my tweets and my blog and my blah, blah, blah, I might be getting my wish.

Oh I’m not enjoying this… not even a little bit

Thanks to Mr. Hogg and his fan base, so far she has been dropped by these ELEVEN sponsors:

Hulu, Nestle, Johnson & Johnson, Trip Advisor, Nutrish, Stitch Fix, Expedia, Liberty Mutual, Wayfair and Jos. A. Bank.

Panicked, she issued a faux apology that read:

On reflection, in the spirit of Holy Week, I apologize for any upset or hurt my tweet caused him or any of the brave victims of Parkland…

Notice there was no regret about any of her words, which she obviously stands by (Note: And presumably believes Jesus would, too). Ms. Ingraham obviously understands what her base wants. But so does young Mr. Hogg, who wisely called her out on her B.S., noting it was due to a loss of revenue and not any real desire to change her or her network’s behavior.

Pass the Purell

Had Mr. Hogg done a little more research (Note: Though perhaps he has) he would know the full story. Yes, he called her out for tweeting at basketball greats LeBron James and Kevin Durant to shut up and dribble when they gave an interview and dared to express support for fellow players taking a knee during the national anthem, but she has also:

– Said Mexican immigrants have come here to “murder and rape our people.”

– Called Planned Parenthood employees “heinous, Hitlerian freaks.”

– And said the NAACP is “a push organization for racist sentiments.”

More importantly, this goes further back than that – all the way to her college years.

In the eighties, as editor of the Dartmouth Review, she called her campus’s Gay Students Association “cheerleaders for latent campus sodomites” and sent a reporter to secretly tape the meeting because she disliked they were treated as any other student organization where the campus would provide an activity fee ($100 per student) for them to operate.

Oh yes she did

So much so that she then went on to print the names of gay students present at the meeting, outing some of them in the process. All this occurred at the height of the AIDS crisis in the 80s. #WWJD.

A decade later she did go on to write a 1997 editorial in The Washington Post explaining her past and to admit her views were somewhat modified when she found out her brother Curtis was gay and that his lover was dying of AIDS.

She also asked not to be judged about things she did in college – which somehow seems to presuppose she learned her lesson about hurling personal attacks towards young people who represent causes she disagrees with.

But well, clearly she hasn’t.

She definitely hasn’t #tellemjessica

Though maybe this would be different if David Hogg were her brother with a girlfriend who had sustained life-threatening injuries from gun violence that she could then see David caring for up close and personal.

Oh, and for the record, she is still NOT A SUPPORTER of gay marriage.

Roseanne does support gay marriage and was one of the first to feature out gay characters on network television in a more than casual way. Does this somewhat temper my personal line in the sand?   Perhaps a little, though not entirely.

Not impressed #whatever

There is a difference in choosing to personally boycott the work of someone with whom you disagree and don’t respect vs. urging the national boycott of someone who bullies minors, rages against non-white and non-straight minorities and eggs on her millions of followers to do the same.

There is free speech but also the free market. They simultaneously co-exist and there is a cause and effect to each.

One last word on Ms. Ingraham –

Do we have to?? #OKChair #staywithme

While so many of her contemporaries have evolved through personal experience she has remained her same strident professional self as she pursues, what exactly? Personal fame and fortune? World domination? If either is true, and they seem so, the most dangerous, real-life comparison that quickly comes to mind are the actions and/or motivations of our current Electoral College president – @realDonaldTrump.

So no surprise that she is not only one of his most ardent supporters but the name that is most often at the top of the list to become his new White House Communications Director.

Pass the advil #notanad

With her just announced one-week vacation hiatus, that might happen sooner than later. Or, it may not. Though as someone tweeted this weekend, another similarly deposed right wing Fox firebrand, Bill O’Reilly, is still on the one-week vacation he took more than a year ago.

Hope springs eternal. Roseanne notwithstanding.

Meghan Trainor – “No Excuses”

A Storm is Gathering

Here’s what we now know about Donald Trump that we never wanted to know:

1- He doesn’t use condoms, even when he has sex with porn stars.

2- He actually enjoys being ordered to drop his pants so he can be lightly (or perhaps wholly, who knows?) dominated.

3- He often tells women he flirts with and/or bones that they remind him of his daughter.

EWWWWWW

All that and more was revealed when adult film actress/director/writer and stripper (I love all those monikers together!) Stormy Daniels sat down with Anderson Cooper for her 60 Minutes interview Sunday night.

Great get, CBS!!!

And…gee thanks, Stormy!!!

Of course, we either knew or could intuit most of the above. Even the separate bedrooms with Melania, the elaborate apparatus of pay-offs, legal maneuverings and physical threats were not shocking.

Yes, granted, the Las Vegas thug who came up to Stormy in the parking lot some years ago when she was carrying her infant daughter and was told to leave Trump alone because it would be a shame if something happened to her beautiful daughter’s Mom – okay, yeah – that was a surprise.

Sort of.

My face after hearing literally ANY trump news.

Still, that’s hearsay (not heresy, not yet anyway) and has nothing to do with Russia. Or does it?   Well, the ethnicity of the big guy was held back so who really knows for sure?

Well…who knows about anything for sure anymore?!!

Do you? I certainly don’t. And I’ve spent most of my life thinking that I did – know something, that is.

Okay, so I DO know a few things.

One is that Stormy on CBS was just one teensy portion of the bad weather that is brewing in the soap opera/reality show we now like to call The Homeland.

I will probably have to use this meme in every post until the end of the Trump administration

Not only do she and her very credible and powerful attorney Michael Avenatti (Note: He’s the guy who beat the NFL at their own game for millions of settlement dollars AND in his spare time races cars and, well, has dreamy blue eyes – there, I said it!) dangle the carrots of upcoming secret recordings and DVD images, each of them looked into the camera sternly and pretty much ORDERED Trump and his legal team to quit lyin’ about them (and their intentions) or else.

Sue me…. wink

So now that we do know for a fact that DT (or is it DD?) enjoys being ordered – well, according to credible/incredible Stormy anyway – it’s anyone’s guess what could happen next. I mean, he might defy them just in order to be punished, right?

You most certainly DON’T KNOW and NEITHER DO I!!

Meanwhile back on the other end of The Homeland in Washington, DC – which is also LITERALLY Trump country even if he did spend this weekend, as he usually does, at his lavish Mar A Lago Resort in Florida golfing – a different sort of storm broke on every one of the broadcast networks.

About 800,000 people flooded the streets of the Capitol to #MarchForOurLives –meaning a mass demand for stricter gun control – led by the a small group of teenagers who survived the recent mass shooting that killed 17 people (14 of them their classmates) and wounded 14 more at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Fla.

They were joined by millions more in cities across the country and all over the world as far away as Tokyo, Berlin, London and Paris. No, this is not #FakeNews. Take a look:

A sea of humanity

Yeah, and sorry, CBS – no exclusives, here. Everyone already knows!!!

Sure, there’s a debate about the numbers. The organizers say 800,000 in D.C. but the official government estimate is 200,000 plus – the latter estimate being as reliable as the government (Note: See 60 Minutes nee #Fake/#Real #News).

Nevertheless, it was hard to watch those kids on Saturday and NOT realize that the weather is shifting, and not in a good way, for all those elected officials who chose to take this weekend off and leave town to play golf. Or to just, well, play.

a different storm that is coming…

By next year the millennial generation (ages 20-35) will number 73 million vs. the Baby Boomers’ 72 million (and decreasing, because, um..some of us are going to…well…die?) and this group overwhelmingly disfavors the current D.C. majority, not to mention its policies. That being the case, you can imagine what and whom the Parkland high school survivors and their millions of followers favor.

If not, look at some of their live statements at #MarchForOurLives. They were abundantly clear AND moving, which is really saying something since:

  1. The youngest speaker was 11.
  2. The speaker who wrote the tribute poem literally THREW UP mid-rhyme beside the podium yet, comforted by another fellow survivor of a different shooting and of a different race, kept going with even greater verve and an even greater response.
  3. The final speaker, Parkland senior Emma Gonzales, the 17 year old viral sensation with the shaved head who just a short few weeks ago after the Florida shooting was the first person to break through ALL THE NOISE and literally CALL B.S. on all the powers-that-be who offered her thoughts and prayers but NO plan for legislative change – dropped the mic on all of us with four plus minutes of dead, stone cold silence.

The real deal

Years ago an acting teacher told my class that one of the strongest stances you could take in any scene you were in was to be still, say nothing and just react. When you are really present, committed and fully in the moment your power is undeniable, she said – to your scene partner, to your audience and to the camera. It will be the best piece of acting you will ever do because it won’t be acting. You will merely be.

Ms. Gonzales was not present that day all those years ago because she is only 17. But when the political becomes personal, when the hurt is undeniable and when words are indeed inadequate, every affected generation finds a handful of their peers who can crystalize what they want, feel and believe into a series of historic political actions. Ms. Gonzales is one such person for her group and this is one such action.

Check your local forecasts. There will be many more to come. And while you’re at it, buy a new umbrella.

Rihanna – “Umbrella”

The Porn Prez

Everything about Donald J. Trump is pornographic – his language, his actions, his lifestyle and even his appearance.

This is not so much a judgment as an observation.

Personally, I have nothing against pornography. It can be fun to observe or even to actively indulge in – but with moderation. Much like a great bottle of wine, a pitcher of margaritas, or an episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians. 

Me, but with trashy reality shows #sorrynotsorry

But to indulge in any one of them on an endless loop daily would profoundly affect one’s psyche – not to mention one’s physical self – and ultimately not in a good way.

For instance, I know I’d put a gun to my head in you strapped me in a chair for hours at a time seven days a week and forced me to stay current (kurrent?) with Kim, Khloe, Kourtney, Kylie, Kendall and mom Kris.

Still never gets old #momager

The fact that I even know all of their names makes me want to shoot myself.

This is what Trump is doing to the country. Well, half the country.

Okay, 3 million more than half.

Maybe 4 million at this point. Though I might be overestimating. A diet of pornography will do that to you. Everything feels…well, bigger. Or at least more orange.

The point is, the majority of us do want to shoot ourselves. Or someone.

Don’t deny it. The thought has crossed your mind and more than once. Where the (metaphorical?) bullet goes depends on whether you are a masochist or a sadist, a pessimist or an optimist. But the perverse urge to misbehave in some very, very VERY obscene way is there. How could it not be when every day we’re treated to a new episode of Donald Does _____XXXXX_____.

well we know the storm is coming…

Stormy?

Comey?

McCabe?

Mueller?

The FBI?

The Dreamers?

The Justice Department?

High School students?

Or just any Woman in his way or with whom he has had his way? Or not.

Who will be eliminated next? #staytuned #dowehaveto?

Though certainly not the NRA. That much we can take to the bank(s). Which are doing just fine, and probably financing a whole new group of American made steel and aluminum McMansions even as we speak.

Do I sound bitter? Certainly, not! Why would I be? I have health insurance, a job, a 401-K and better interest rates than my parents ever dreamed of. And I’m in the top percentage of earners in the country. What more could I possibly want?   And, have you listened to yourself lately???

Okay, I will admit to some rage.

Nothing to see here

I carry it with me in traffic as I curse the person with Arizona plates driving in front of me in beautiful urban Los Angeles, sure that they voted for Donald Does while living in their own aluminum and steel faux McMansion – which is nestled on the corner of a golf course that doesn’t let in Jews or Black people.

I’m not proud of this. But at least I’m aware. Though I’m not sure if that means anything. Certainly not that I’m even close to being fully #woke. Or want to be.

More than one person in the last year and a half has told me the Trump presidency feels like a dream – either in the sweet or nightmare scenario, depending on what their political stance was at any given moment.

so like.. when can I move to Mars? #hurryupElonMusk

Well, that makes sense. There have been studies that say pornography can greatly increase and/or influence our dreams – even boost our fantasy libidos – because it stimulates dopamine in our brain.  That’s the neurotransmitter responsible for giving us a high. Like a good bottle of wine or a pitcher of margaritas or….

Okay, I wont say it. But I will say this —

In some cases this is a good high and in others this high is WAY TOO GOOD and makes us an addict.

You may say: But Chair, this doesn’t make any sense. Donald Does gives me no pleasure. He doesn’t make me high. He makes me angry. It’s not the same.

Really??? So you never…hate watch???

YES RU

Now I’m not saying our/my addiction to hate watching every move on Donald Does is making us/me into what we/I have become. (Note: And oh yes, reading episode and/or weekly recaps counts too).

Nor am I saying hate watching Keeping Up with Donald Does is NOT making us into just that..

I am only observing/actively indulging in the idea that the Opioid epidemic is not the only insidious addiction currently ripping apart the fabric of our country.

And that we might consider in this newest class of Opioids, the only solution is to refuse to buy it. And then come together to take the damn thing off the market, at which time it will be destroyed (Note: Either by us or by self-immolation) and/or put under lock and key for good

Think of it as a human assault weapon, not a toxic reality show, that has somehow managed to cleverly masquerade itself as porn.

Florence + The Machine – “Kiss With a Fist”

My Second Coming Out

It wasn’t easy to come out the first time.

I was so nervous my friends would hate me, my peers would shun me and my family would either not understand or just decide not to deal with IT or me at all.

That was the late 1970s and though times have changed quite a bit for the LGBTQ+ community, nothing about coming out – then or now – is particularly easy.

Most of us say we enjoy being different and perhaps we do, but it is also human nature to want to belong and not feel like or be like…well, my favorite expression is the cheese stands alone.

Think of me as this sad cheese while you read on…

Still, we all need to live in our truths in order to be truly happy.

That is why I find that all these decades later I need to come out for yet a second time. It’s painful because I’m afraid this time you will hate me and shun me. At the very least, I am absolutely certain you will lose respect for me and behind my back call me all kinds of names.

It’s about to happen…

But I can’t pretend anymore.

The truth is ––

I didn’t like Get Out.

OH CHAIR

I know, I know, I know!!!

I’ve tried so hard to listen and to get on the bandwagon. Yes, I’m a white guy of a certain age so OF COURSE I benefit from the WHITE PIRVILEGE the film is lampooning. But that’s NOT why I don’t get it!!! Seriously!!!

I mean, you’d be hard pressed to find ANYONE who DISLIKES WHITE PEOPLE more at this point in our history than I do.   Even though my 401-K profits from what’s going on in Washington, I live in a deep, dark blue state (in so many ways) and sometimes back away from telling off one of the far right crazies the way I used to for fear of being arrested for strangulation, I still DO side with the values of JUSTICE AND TRUTH for everyone.

It’s just, well…..

It didn’t work for me.

Or maybe I should say.. sorry not sorry?! #donthateme

I loved what it was ultimately saying and I wanted to see THAT film.   Strap me in MY chair and play me that movie – that everyone’s writing about. I want to see an original seamless screenplay that constantly has me laughing and intrigued by characters and a plot that keep me on the edge of my seat – or even far back into my seat, nodding my head at how the inevitable will happen based on the people and events the filmmaker has unfolded.

What I don’t enjoy in my movies are deus ex machina explanations of characters I’ve been watching for three quarters of a film do bad things. Who thought I would ever yearn for a Michael Myers-like reason?

stay with me here!!!

The opening was sick, fun and promising. The act one set up was creepy and believable. The end of the first act worked. I mean, something was up, right?

Then there was:

– The Second Act boredom. A series of sometimes amusing events and set pieces – some clever set pieces but too many other perplexing scenes that didn’t move the story forward with any discernable dramatic purpose – for me, Okay? For me! At least throw me a slightly more than microscopic breadcrumb so I can play along– or two or three – and I would’ve been satisfied, thrilled even, to join the crowd. #DontDunkirkMe.

Having a sinking feeling here

–Catherine Keener spinning that effing silver spoon in that teacup and ice tea glass and… Arghhh, don’t me make relive it for the 1000th time. I crave to see the queen of indie movies pre and post millennium play this kind of character – if I had any sense of who that character was during most of the narrative.

— That reveal at the beginning of act 3 that I had to wait for-EVAH for to make any sense of why, or how or for what reason can I care when no one is making any sense to me for so long. Even when what was really going on was revealed it felt imposed and cheap, reminiscent of a device from some low budget 1950s horror flick I might have watched long before I came out on Million Dollar Movie but turned off before the end (Note: Million Dollar Movie — A showcase for old, often n.s.g films on NYC television in the 1960s).

Sorry but not even a Keith Haring style homage to the movie is going to do it for me.

You might reject all of the above as ill-informed but just know at least I’ve stopped making silly, ridiculous arguments for my case like the one I made just yesterday on social media — Hey, I really enjoyed Black Panther!

Um, right – So because you liked A Black movie that proves…what exactly? It’s like DJT telling a rally in Pittsburgh he’s the least racist person you know because Don King is one of his best friends and he gave Omarosa…her career?

It plays to no one in possession of their own brain, #GetOut pun not intended.

hehehe

Oh, And just know it really doesn’t help to add, I liked Mudbound, too!

Or give a laundry list of your fave POC films starting with Sounder and then going on through Cleopatra Jones, Lady Sings the Blues, Mahogany (yes, Deal with it!), Do the Right Thing, Boyz n The Hood, Bamboozled, Malcolm X or I Am Not Your Negro.

NO ONE CARES. And a case could be made for every one that I only responded to them because they didn’t challenge MY white privilege.

I suppose that may be right. Who are we but an amalgamation of our lived privileges and denials when you come right down to it?

On the other hand, it could just be that it wasn’t my cup of….tea?

Groan.

Childish Gambino – “Red Bone” (Get Out Movie Soundtrack)

Two Words

It’s not enough to say this year’s Academy Awards was all about diversity or representation or #TimesUp.

Because what it really was all about was the inclusion rider.

This is a provision in an actor’s contract that can ensure casting in films be more diverse and provide percentages by which to achieve it (e.g. gender parity, people of color, LGBTQ, disabled). It may also extend to ALL CREW MEMBERS on any given film.

In an electric speech near the end of the ceremony, Frances McDormand did many things but the most interesting among them had nothing to do with her best actress win or performance in Three Billboards Outside Ebbings, Missouri.

her moment

It was the I have two words to leave with you tonight, ladies and gentlemen – inclusion ridera line that went from getting a blank stare from tens of millions of viewers to almost instantly becoming not only the #1 trending topic on Twitter but the Merriam-Webster dictionary website’s top search for the night.

There are ribbons and there are movements but at the end of the day there are really only CONTRACTS.

This is not a Hollywood thing. This is a business thing. ALL BUSINESSES.

Ms. McDormand makes it clear with each public appearance that it’s no accident she’s gained her greatest acclaim playing no-nonsense, complicated women.   But with that last line, specifically those two words, she’s not playing. She’s instead employing an extremely savvy use of a very public platform towards a really specific CONTRACTUAL REQUIREMENT to diversify.

It’s the iteration that follows the movement, which followed the ribbons, which channeled the marches – but this time on paper and in a court of law, if it comes to that.

Or put another way – the less kind and gentler version of you are the change you’ve been waiting for.

Her second most interesting moment was that, after thanking her family, she requested EVERY FEMALE NOMINEE in EVERY CATEGORY stand up for the world, and more importantly, the Hollywood patriarchy in attendance or watching, to see. She then admonished all those in power (aka many of the straight white guys of a certain age who claimed to be shocked by actions of guys like Harvey Weinstein – my editorial comment, not hers) that each and every one of these women have stories to tell and projects we need financed and instead of talking to them at a party that night to meet with them in an OFFICE (Note: We’ll go to yours or you can come to OURS) in a few days where we’ll tell you about them.

Who run the world?

This was not just the actors and the female writers and directors and producers she was pointing to. This was the female cinematographers, songwriters, composers, designers… Well, you get the picture.

Sure, there were other MOMENTS. Jimmy Kimmel was funny, charming really. Presenter Sandra Bullock made some hilarious remarks about dimming the lights so she could look 35 again, and 89-year-old James Ivory finally got the Oscar that eluded him as director of such classic films as Howard’s End, Maurice and Remains of the Day for his brilliant screenplay adaptation of Call Me By Your Name.

Oh and that shirt! #legend

Not to mention cinematographer Roger Deakins actually winning an Oscar after FOURTEEN nominations for his work on Blade Runner 2049 and Mexican-born Guillermo Del Toro’s two heartfelt acceptance speeches about the value of youth, art and American immigration as the best director and producer of this year’s best picture, The Shape of Water.

All of them were good, if not great. In fact, so were all the musical numbers. (Note: Yes, we were surprised too!).

But nothing captured the desire and mood of what’s really going on in the industry like the inclusion rider. Nothing.

Let the buyer beware.

Frances McDormand Oscar 2018 Acceptance Speech