hollywood kid

Honestly I don’t get all these bare-minimum breadcrumb gay moments in movies because, like, homophobes will be like “the what? gay?” and boycott the movie over Craig Ferguson The Viking saying “ha ha that’s why I never got married! That and one other reason!” so like, if you’re in for a penny go in for a pound, clearly you want to tap into the lucrative market for content with same-sex relationships, and the Homophobe Market is going to pitch a hissy fit and boycott whether you toss in a few breadcrumbs or the entire loaf. Anybody who’s gonna boycott over gay stuff is probably already boycotting stuff where characters just wink-wink-nudge-nudge but never explicitly confirm anything so there’s no reason to hesitate. You could put in an entire gay wedding and it would be no different, from a homophobe’s point of view, than having a woman in your movie roll her eyes at a male character’s advances and say “sorry, you’re not my type if-you-know-what-i-mean!”

It’s like how my old high school marked you as tardy starting from one minute after the beginning of the school day (7:46 AM) through to 10:30 AM, at which point you’d be marked absent. The punishment was the same whether you arrived at 7:46 or 10:29, so if you were running late and couldn’t make it to school by 7:45, you’d essentially been given a free pass to skip first and second period and go get breakfast at McDonald’s because you’re already in the same amount of trouble regardless of when you actually show up, so long as you do so within the next two and a half hours

Don’t skip school, kids, but hollywood, take note, go big or go home on the gay stuff because the homophobes are already boycotting the movie even if you just put in a blink-and-you-miss-it nudge-nudge hint-hint background reference and you could be making a lot more money by giving the Yellow Ranger a gf in the sequel

Lin-Manuel Miranda on His Lifelong Oscars Obsession and Why the Show Still Matters (Guest Column)

The Hollywood Reporter
February 20, 2017

During college, Lin-Manuel Miranda and a friend used to improvise interpretative dance tributes to best picture nominees at their annual Oscar party. “It was a lot of breathing and rolling around,” recalls the creator of the Broadway smash Hamilton. “We had a great Seabiscuit dance one year.”

For the New York-born son of Puerto Rican parents — his father a political consultant, his mother a psychologist — it was just another phase of a lifelong fascination with the Oscars that began when he was growing up in the Inwood section of Manhattan, playing and replaying the telecasts that his family recorded on their VCR. At 37, Miranda is about to cross the threshold from superfan to participant: “How Far I’ll Go,” which he wrote for the Disney film Moana, is nominated for original song, and on Feb. 26, Miranda (with his mother) will attend his first Academy Awards.

It’s an auspicious step in a career that will see him star with Emily Blunt and Colin Firth in Disney’s 2018 Mary Poppins Returns and collaborate with composer Alan Menken on the studio’s live-action The Little Mermaid, one of Miranda’s favorite films and, he reveals here, the gateway to his Oscars obsession.

My brain is a compendium of Oscar moments: Tom Hanks’ beautiful acceptance speech when he won best actor for Philadelphia in 1994. Roberto Benigni climbing over chairs and wanting to make love to everybody in the world when Life Is Beautiful won best foreign-language film in 1999. Kim Basinger presenting in 1990 and telling the audience that one of the best films of the year, Do the Right Thing, was not nominated. For her to take a stand, 25 years before #OscarsSoWhite, was incredible — and impressive because time has shown the prescience of that film.

I expect we’ll see more of that this year. It’s a political time, so I imagine the Oscars will look exactly like your Twitter or Facebook feed. Why should we ignore for three hours what we’re talking about 24 hours a day?

The Oscars were always a family affair when I was a kid. One sort of unintentional tradition we had every year was during the “In Memoriam” part of the show. My family called it the “She died?” section because my dad, who is pop culture-oblivious, would always go, “She died? He died? She died?!” the whole time. So, it was very sad and yet also very funny watching my dad catch up.

When I was a kid, the Oscars felt like this impossibly larger-than-life thing. The first time I felt like I had a horse in the race was in 1990. I was 10, and The Little Mermaid was up for best song and best score. They did that crazy “Under the Sea” number with the late, great Geoffrey Holder and dudes in scuba outfits tap-dancing with flippers. We had a tradition of recording the show on our VHS, and I must have watched it a million and a half times.

There was also an amazing Chuck Workman montage at the beginning of the show that depicted 100 years of filmmaking with classic scores. I was already in love with movies, but this was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.

That was the period when Billy Crystal was hosting, and I would memorize his musical spoofs of the year’s top films. He did them with Marc Shaiman, whom I’m working with right now on Mary Poppins Returns… I was a huge fan of those moments and musical numbers — they showed a genuine love of movies while still poking fun at them. I may also be the only person in America who laughed his ass off to “Uma, Oprah. Oprah, Uma.” David Letterman’s commitment to that bit was enough to put it over the top for me. He didn’t care if no one got it. In his head, it was funny.


Hosting the Oscars is not a thing I would ever want to do… You always have to do this dance as a host: You’re playing to a billion people at home, and you’re playing to anxious contestants in a room, and that’s an insanely hard thing to divide. It’s the most thankless task in the world. I have a pretty healthy ego, but it does not extend in that direction. I’d much rather be the guy writing the opening tune than having to deliver it.


Another Oscar moment that really stuck with me was when Whoopi won her best supporting actress for Ghost. I’ll never forget, at the top of her acceptance speech she said, “Ever since I was a little kid, I wanted this,” which is so rare. Then she said, “As a little kid, I lived in the projects, and you’re the people I watched. You’re the people who made me want to be an actor.” For me, it was like she was saying, “If you want this, you can get it, too. I’m proof that you can.”

I had been seeing myself in this world since I was old enough to do anything, and it was as if she reached through the screen to talk to me. I was that kid. Even my mother used to say, “Remember what Whoopi said.”

That speech was the inspiration for the opening song I co-wrote for Neil Patrick Harris, “Bigger,” for the 2013 Tony Awards:

There’s a kid in the middle of nowhere sitting there, living for Tony performances singin’ and flippin’ along with the Pippins and Wickeds and Kinkys, Matildas and Mormonses / So we might reassure that kid and do something to spur that kid  / ‘Cause I promise you all of us up here tonight, We were that kid and now we’re bigger


Another of my favorite moments was in 2005, when they had Antonio Banderas sing “Al Otro Lado Del Rio” from The Motorcycle Diaries, which was nominated for best song. And then when Jorge Drexler, who composed it, won, he went onstage and sang it, like, “This is how it really goes.” It was so funny and ballsy and great. I’m happy whenever Latinos win anything, so I was thrilled by both performances.

I can’t tell you what it feels like in that room because this will be my first time at the Oscars, but I can tell you why the Oscars matter. It’s a night when the arts and artists are formally honored, and this recognition is seen by millions of people across the country and around the world. The show inspires people to keep pursuing their craft, or to seek out the nominated films or the overall body of work of the nominees, and through that exposure, people gain a greater appreciation of what the art of filmmaking brings to our culture.

An Open Letter to Hollywood on the ‘Sick Kid’ Narrative:

Be chronically ill as a teenager or young adult is not The Fault In Our Stars or Everything, Everything or any other cinematic variation of that narrative.  Being sick as a teenager is not romantic. It’s not poetic. It’s doesn’t lead to pretentious relationships and lavish vacations. It doesn’t lead to quirky friends and fun outings. It isn’t a beautifully tragic plot device.

It’s watching people you used to be friends with move on without you. Learning to drive without you. Graduating high school without you. Going to college without you. Dating without you. It’s growing up and, the moment you have some independence, losing it. 

It’s having months and months of overdue school work. It’s having to pick between a passing grade and a flare up, or failing the class but maybe having some stability. 

It’s watching missed milestones pass you by. Watching your life pass you by.

It’s a constant fear of the future. “Will I get sicker? Will I ever be able to work?”

It’s never going to homecoming or prom. It’s not walking at graduation - either because you didn’t graduate or you can’t walk. Or both. 

It’s not chewing unlit cigarettes for the ~metaphor~, it’s going through Morphine withdrawal at 15 and taking the SATs with a drug-clouded brain. Hell, it’s watching people you know smoke pot on rooftops while you lay in bed high on Triptans and Tramadol. 

It’s not a John Green novel. There isn’t any glory in being a sick kid. There’s no scamming Make-A-Wish and sexy lovers. There’s no empathy from teachers or even from parents.

There is something innately alienating about only seeing your experiences portrayed in an unrealistic, romanticized light, especially at that age.   

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Christian Combs, Cordell Broadus, Diggy Simmons and Myles O'Neal walk the runway at the Dolce & Gabbana show during Milan Men’s Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2018 on June 17, 2017 in Milan, Italy.