Wishful casting: People Magazine would like to see Eddie Redmayne as Prince Nicholas in the film adaptation of the novel, The Royal We. They’ll get no argument here.
Prince Nicholas: Eddie Redmayne For The Royal We’s answer to Prince William, there are plenty of choices. But really, does anyone top the adorably sweet (with a serious streak) Redmayne? The Brit has more than proved his acting chops (and he’s got the hardware to show for it it), plus there’s just something about his angular cheekbones that’s so regal.
IF THERE IS ONE THING I HAVE LEARNED IT’S THAT WOMEN LOVE BACKPACKS, Y'ALL. SO I’M LIKE, LET’S GIVE THE LADIES ALL THE HOTNESS OF A BACKPACK, WITHOUT THE PACK. LET’S SAVE THE HUMP FOR THE BEDROOM, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN? DAMN. I AM GOOD. I AM GOING TO INVENT A SEX BACKPACK.
“I could also protect you from terrorists. If any of them happened to show up, like, right this minute while I’m holding this giant gun. I’m basically like if Kiefer Sutherland in 24 was a young, hot, British prince. BUY THAT SHOW, HOLLYWOOD.”
I truly think that if “Livin’ On a Prayer” were played at my funeral, I would rise from the dead to throw my hands in the air once we got to “OH OH WE’RE HALFWAY THERE!” I will literally crawl out of my grave to gyrate to the chorus of “Livin’ On a Prayer.”
The Fug Girls (in this post), who I’m pretty sure can either see into my soul or are my spirit animal(s).
“Look! I am GREY SWAN! She’s just…you know, kind of regular. No stabbing. Lives with a couple of roommates. Gets kind of cranky sometimes, but hasn’t tried to murder anyone yet. Steers clear of the weird ballet company director because she knows he’s a skeeze.”
“And Pacey! From the neck down, he honestly looks quite dapper. From the neck up, he does look like he’s in the middle of filming an ABC Family Christmas movie about a down-on-his luck hunky handyman who starts living in the shed of the local single mom – a scenario which will eventually lead to love and bespoke cabinetry for all.”
Maybe it’s true that 30 is the new 20, and 20somethings these days are still living out their teen angst. Maybe it’s Heather [Cocks] and Jessica [Morgan]’s lack of condescension, or our reality TV-fueled addiction to the kind of dramatic treasure trove that’s only unearthed in young adult and romance genres, but “Spoiled” is as easily read as a razor-sharp comedy about Hollywood’s over-important youth culture as it is as a big hug for teens with peer problems.
I don’t necessarily agree with their choices—they like patterns far, far more than I do—but it’s fun to click through. I love the blog in general, because they get like EVERY dress from every awards show, even the obscure ones, and they’re also very funny.
My prediction? At least two bitches are gonna be stepping out in Rodarte. We’ll see a Jenny Packham, because Catherine Duchess of Cambridge loves her, and also, her dresses are pretty. Prada has a big retrospective coming up at the MET, so someone fashion forward might have their finger on that pulse. Someone will do McQueen because they didn’t get the memo that he was so last year (unfortunately, because I love him). And we’ll see so many mermaid hems that I’ll fall asleep.
I’ll be live blogging the red carpet, so get ready for it!
She’s dressed like an unholy hybrid of Liza Minnelli, Wynonna Judd, Dorothy Zbornak, and an interplanetary overlord. If she’s being this melodramatic about her bump when there barely IS one, then by the time she pops she’s going to be in full Jedi robes. I can’t wait. And I have never said that before with regards to anything a Kardashian has done, so you KNOW I’m expecting divine insanity.
Nothing will make me watch Glee again — recently, one of our readers compared quitting Glee to seeing the ocean for the first time, and it’s true that I do feel very happy now that I’m not spending two hours a week complaining about it (almost as happy as the people to whom I was complaining).
It. is. amazing. Possibly the best review written on anything ever.
A (long) tease:
We begin with nebulous shots of a fire, and before you get excited that I am actually recapping that episode of Dynasty where Claudia lit her hate candles and accidentally burned down La Mirage, it is actually a church.
The little brother is gazing at Kelly Preston and thinking, “I remember you from What A Girl Wants. How come Amanda Bynes isn’t in this movie?” And he’s right. Amanda Bynes really should be in this movie.
It’s at this point that we know SOMEONE is going to die, because Nicholas Sparks would never end an estrangement without death. It’s just not proper.
Miley goes walking on the beach in her jeans and combat boots, and we can tell she is Not Like The Other Girls because The Other Girls give her a look that says, “You are Not Like Us.”
This is Liam Hemsworth, and this is the expression he makes through 90 percent of this movie. He greets every plot twist with a mix of amusement, confusion, and vacant good humor. It’s like his version of Blue Steel, except it’s supposed to have depth of feeling. Blue Feel.
[The character] Blaze has red hair, of course, because nobody in the world named Blaze has raven hair. (I should point out, though, that she does say her real name is… wait for it… Galadriel. And that’s how IMDb lists it, even though nobody uses that word for the rest of the movie.) Galadriel-Blaze also has a boyfriend who is kind of scummy.
So Liam gets fired and then drowns himself in this little enclave and the town puts up a sign that says, “HERE LIES LIAM. THIS’LL LEARN YOU.”
They make out in the ocean! (Memo to Sparks: Missed shark attack opportunity.) They lie on the beach while he makes a corpse outline of her limp form with seashells. (Memo to Sparks: Would have been much more moving post-shark-attack.) They sit in truck flatbeds that apparently used to carry sand, fertilizer, and toxic pool chemicals. (Memo to Sparks: Missed opportunity to give kids a PSA about how if you have The Sex in the back of a truck that hasn’t been washed since 1982, you could die young of Genital Poisoning.)
Nothing says forever like writing a “forever” in Sharpie on somebody’s dirty shoes, although if I were Miley, I would be concerned that his lack of even ONE capital letter means he is not fully committed to this. Especially because it’s so nonspecific. In like six months he can be like, “Oh, you thought I meant US? I just meant, ‘This word will be here forever,’ and, ‘Converse will be around forever,’ and, ‘My handwriting will look like a 14-year old girl’s forever.’” Also, this is totally the cover of a YA book. If Judy Blume ever decides to update and reissue Forever (translation: please remove the main dude’s stupid mustache), I hope this is what she goes with.
It’s like, we’re waiting and waiting and WAITING for this girl to show us a spark of something that explains why Liam likes her, other than her flat abs and ability to breathe almost solely through her mouth.
She snits that she’s FINE with him being ashamed to take her to his sister’s wedding (YOU HAVE BEEN DATING FOR AN HOUR) with a bunch of people she doesn’t know (EXACTLY) because his perfect rich family doesn’t need Her Kind (um, your dad has a BEACH HOUSE; you are not poor).
It’s something about how miserable his parents are because of his tragically dead brother and they want him to go to Vanderbilt even though HE wants to go to Columbia and zzzzzzzzzzzzz first-world problems.
Et voila: The Great Room. This movie would have won me right here, right now, if Liam had been like, “Finally, someone who will understand my respect for the mighty harp,” and pulled it over for a classical duet. Instead, he just moons over her. Boring.
She pretends to ask him for fatherly advice about being in love, and he pretends to say something — I seriously have no idea what it was. I don’t think it was even advice. I think she was just like, “I, like, more than like him. I LIKE-like him. I like-like-LIKE him, like him,” and Greg is all, “Yippee, don’t get pregnant,” except without the pregnant part, because he has read the script and he knows that doesn’t happen.
Enraged that Liam knew the truth but let her father think he was guilty for so long, she kicks him out of her life and brazenly tells him to go to the school his parents picked for him (Vanderbilt, probably fairly unhappy to have been dragged into this) and have a nice life and she WON’T wish him a great summer and she WON’T see him next year and she doesn’t CARE if he stays sweet and doesn’t ever change. She has signed his emotional yearbook in POISONED PEN.
She plays and plays, and it’s very slow and kind of boring and depressing — which fits, actually, because there’s no sense in writing Miley an upbeat song when she’s been such a massive pill — and then she finishes it in a triumph, and peers out to the balcony to see what Greg thinks. What he thinks is, “Listening to this make me want to die.” So he does. Her music killed him.
A sunbeam passes through his stained-glass window. “Hi Daddy,” she says, although I think he was just trying to avenge the Death By Music by giving her a sunburn. Then she sits down to play her murder piano. “We’re all going to die!” someone screams, and everyone evacuates the church as fast as they can. The End.
YOUR DAD DIED. DO YOUR HAIR.
Imagine all the complex emotions one would feel in this moment: grief, yearning, confusion, regret, hope. Liam eschews ALL of them in favor of treating this scene like he is watching an episode of South Park. Parenthetically, this movie would make for an EXCELLENT episode of South Park.