Fresh Air Interviews Shepard Fairey

Click HERE to listen to Terry Gross’ interview with Shepard Fairey

Tuts my Barreh

Thanks Citadella for sending me this.

New Documentary about TED HAGGARD

I’ve always been very fascinated by Ted Haggard. He was that super popular Evangelical Christian pastor, who preached that homosexuality was evil and then surprise surprise, turned out to be gay.

He did crystal meth too.

He said the DEVIL made him do it.

The most intersting part of the story, has been his congregation’s response to the scandal.

The LA Times wrote a great review of the new documentary, “The Trials of Ted Haggard,” which I can’t wait to watch.

Read the review HERE.

And here’s a trailer for the documentary, directed by Alexandra Pelosi (yes, she’s the daughter of Nancy)

Slumdog Millionaire

Interesting article from Slate Magazine:

What, Exactly, Is Slumdog Millionaire?Is it a) a portrait of the real India, b) a Bollywood-style melodrama, c) a fairy tale, or d) a stylishly shot collection of clichés?

By Dennis LimPosted Monday, Jan. 26, 2009, at 6:19 PM ET

Slumdog Millionaire“You wanted to see the real India? Here it is,” the young Indian hero of Slumdog Millionaire tells an American couple, right after they find that their rental car has been stripped for parts. The winking come-on of Danny Boyle’s Oscar-nominated hit is precisely that—see the real India—but this is a movie with a conveniently fluid notion of reality. In this fairytale vision of squalid poverty, the slums of Mumbai are bathed in golden light, and hardscrabble lives are energized by jacked-up camerawork and the cool, cosmopolitan pop of M.I.A. on the soundtrack. We see the real-world horrors that might befall a kid from these parts—begging syndicates, religious violence, abusive cops—but experience them simply as plot contrivances, hurdles to be cleared as we wait for him to get the girl and go from rags to riches while he’s at it.

Slumdog is nothing if not a transglobal movie—funded with British and American money, shot entirely in India by a British director with a largely Indian cast and crew, from a script by a British writer adapting a novel by a London-born Indian author—and it’s instructive to compare the reactions from around the world.

Premiering at the big North American film festivals at Telluride and Toronto last fall, Slumdog was crowned an underdog Oscar contender, a film that could go from barely getting a release (its original distributor, Warner Independent, folded last year) to the ultimate Hollywood jackpot, just as its hero, Jamal, makes his way from the slums to the biggest prize on Who Wants To Be a Millionaire.

While the film won near-unanimous praise when it opened here in November, in the United Kingdom, thanks perhaps to residual colonial guilt, there were a few more dissenting voices. A columnist at the London Times called it “poverty porn,” bringing up the question of exploitation that has largely been elided in stateside discussions.

And in India, where Slumdog opened last week, the debate has been vigorous. Bollywood superstar Amitabh Bachchan, the focal point of a key scene in Slumdog (he doesn’t actually appear), wondered on his blog if the film would have received as much attention had it been made by an Indian director. Some locals have questioned its selective portrait of Mumbai, which ignores the middle class. Some slum residents, meanwhile, have taken exception to being called “slumdogs” (a term invented by screenwriter Simon Beaufoy; the original novel, by Vikas Swarup, is called Q&A). Despite all this pre-release publicity and mostly positive reviews, Indian audiences have so far stayed away.

It is understandable that the conversation has taken on a more serious tone in India, which has long been sensitive to depictions, by Indians and outsiders alike, of its lower socioeconomic classes. The great Indian filmmaker Satyajit Ray was criticized in Parliament for “exporting poverty.” When the BBC aired French director Louis Malle’s Phantom India, an epic travelogue that sought to capture the contradictions and complexities of Indian society, it led to a minor international incident, culminating in the expulsion of the BBC’s New Delhi bureau.

The slums in Slumdog Millionaire are brighter and livelier than any we’ve seen before. Boyle is a gifted stylist and, for better or worse, an indiscriminate sensualist, the kind of filmmaker capable of finding tactile pleasure wherever he looks, from the junkie deliriums of Trainspotting to the cosmic reveries of Sunshine. For Boyle the director, the slums are above all an endless source of motion and color. The scene that best sums up his attitude comes early in the film, when young Jamal, stuck in an outhouse but determined to obtain Amitabh Bachchan’s autograph, holds his nose and (in a nod to the famous toilet-bowl interlude in Trainspotting) gleefully dives into the outdoor latrine.

Some would argue that Boyle is guilty of aestheticizing poverty. That’s a loaded charge, with its own problematic assumption about what poverty should look like. I would contend that the movie’s real sin is not its surfeit of style but the fact that its style is in service of so very little. The flimsiness of Beaufoy’s scenario, a jumble of one-note characterizations and rank implausibility, makes Boyle’s exertions seem ornamental, even decadent. Beaufoy has suggested that Mumbai itself inspired this narrative sloppiness: “Tonally it shouldn’t really work,” he wrote in the Guardian. “But in Mumbai, not for nothing known as Maximum City, I get away with it.” This is a corollary to the all-too-easy defense that Slumdog is awash in clichés because it is an homage to Bollywood movies. The resemblance, in any case, is superficial. Some of Slumdog’s melodramatic tropes are Bollywood (and Old Hollywood) staples, but the limp dance number that closes the film lacks both the technique and the energy of vintage Bollywood.

If Slumdog has struck a chord, and it certainly seems to have done so in the West, it is not because the film is some newfangled post-globalization hybrid but precisely because there is nothing new about it. It traffics in some of the oldest stereotypes of the exoticized Other: the streetwise urchin in the teeming Oriental city. (The success of Slumdog has apparently given a boost to the dubious pastime of slum tourism—or “poorism,” as it’s also known.) And not least for American audiences, it offers the age-old fantasy of class and economic mobility, at a safe remove that for now may be the best way to indulge in it.

Eager to crank up the zeitgeist-y significance, the marketing machine at Fox Searchlight, which ended up buying Slumdog, told New York magazine that “the film is Obama-like,” for its “message of hope in the face of difficulty.” (Other journalists have since picked up on the meme.) Slumdog has been so insistently hyped as an uplifting experience (“the feel-good film of the decade!” screams the British poster) that it is also, by now, a movie that pre-empts debate. It comes with a built-in, catchall defense—it’s a fairy tale, and any attempt to engage with it in terms of, say, its ethics or politics gets written off as political correctness.

A slippery and self-conscious concoction, Slumdog has it both ways. It makes a show of being anchored in a real-world social context, then asks to be read as a fantasy. It ladles on brutality only to dispel it with frivolity. The film’s evasiveness is especially dismaying when compared with the purpose and clarity of urban-poverty fables like Luis Bunuel’s Los Olvidados, set among Mexico City street kids, or Charles Burnett’s Killer of Sheep, set in inner-city Los Angeles. It’s hard to fault Slumdog for what it is not and never tries to be. But what it is—a simulation of “the real India,” which it hasn’t bothered to populate with real people—is dissonant to the point of incoherence.

Read the full article HERE.

My New Favorite Salad

Mesculun Greens

plus Thinly-Sliced Fennel

topped with Mandarin and/or Satsuma slices

and tossed with Balsamic Vinagrette and Olive Oil.

Toss tip: put all your salad ingredients in a large tupperware, cap and shake furiously. This is the most effective way to evenly coat all the pieces with dressing.

11 Things: Ali Wong

There’s a little picture of me on the cover of the 96 Hours section of the Chronicle. I wrote about 11 things that make me laugh. Chiggy check it HERE

Kanye West Sneakers for Louis Vuitton

Um, these are just another take on Sperry’s Topsiders:

I guess Kanye’s tassle details are a nice touch and the fact that they’re all white and sneaker-y, make them Air Force One-ish. But the dood reminds me of musicians who try to tell jokes over the microphone in between songs. Just stick to what you do best.

Dating Tips for Grown Ass Women: Part 7

Find someone with similar tastes in food. Eating together is a huge part of bonding, especially if you’re a foodie. A man who knows a lot about food and is down to try anything is SO SESSY. It’s fun to say “Mmmmmmm” in perfect synchronicity, while looking at each other in the ojos. I derive a lot of pleasure from sharing the wonderful delight of a tasty exciting dish, and would be very disappointed if some dood responded to my offer of a nicely crafted bite with “Oh, I don’t eat pork.” If he can’t handle the fermentation, the spicy or the seafood, then peace out. But if he introduces me to new and exciting vegetables, meats and method of cooking, then peace in.

Favorites from the Golden Globes

Slumdog Millionaire’s Freida Pinto in Christian Lacroix Haute Couture. Her face is to DIE for so I don’t really care what goes underneath her neck. I wonder if the main gorgeous Indian lady with the green eyes is starting to feel threatened and jelly.

Sexy, sultry Eva Mendes in Christian Dior. I love her skin color with this white. And that necklace is amazing.

Olivia Wilde KILLIN IT in Reem Acra. It’s a little Barbie dress-esque, but in the best, most tasteful way possible.

I love Mad Men. Don’t love January Jones. But this Versace dress is dizzope.

Dr. Bowden's Healthiest Foods

Here are 11 of the most accessible ones:

1. Beets: Think of beets as red spinach, Dr. Bowden said, because they are a rich source of folate as well as natural red pigments that may be cancer fighters.
   How to eat: Fresh, raw and grated to make a salad. Heating decreases the antioxidant power.
2. Cabbage: Loaded with nutrients like sulforaphane, a chemical said to boost cancer-fighting enzymes.
   How to eat: Asian-style slaw or as a crunchy topping on burgers and sandwiches.
3. Swiss chard: A leafy green vegetable packed with carotenoids that protect aging eyes.
   How to eat it: Chop and saute in olive oil.
4. Cinnamon: May help control blood sugar and cholesterol.
   How to eat it: Sprinkle on coffee or oatmeal.
5. Pomegranate juice: Appears to lower blood pressure and loaded with antioxidants.
   How to eat: Just drink it.
6. Dried plums: Okay, so they are really prunes, but they are packed with antioxidants.
   How to eat: Wrapped in prosciutto and baked.
7. Pumpkin seeds: The most nutritious part of the pumpkin and packed with magnesium; high levels of the mineral are associated with lower risk for early death.
   How to eat: Roasted as a snack, or sprinkled on salad.
8. Sardines: Dr. Bowden calls them “health food in a can.” They are high in omega-3’s, contain virtually no mercury and are loaded with calcium. They also contain iron, magnesium, phosphorus, potassium, zinc, copper and manganese as well as a full complement of B vitamins.
   How to eat: Choose sardines packed in olive or sardine oil. Eat plain, mixed with salad, on toast, or mashed with dijon mustard and onions as a spread.
9. Turmeric: The “superstar of spices,” it may have anti-inflammatory and anti-cancer properties.
   How to eat: Mix with scrambled eggs or in any vegetable dish.
10. Frozen blueberries: Even though freezing can degrade some of the nutrients in fruits and vegetables, frozen blueberries are available year-round and don’t spoil; associated with better memory in animal studies.
    How to eat: Blended with yogurt or chocolate soy milk and sprinkled with crushed almonds.
11. Canned pumpkin: A low-calorie vegetable that is high in fiber and immune-stimulating vitamin A; fills you up on very few calories.
    How to eat: Mix with a little butter, cinnamon and nutmeg.

How Thin Foodies stay THIN

I definitely consider myself a Foodie. I totally won’t eat anything if I don’t love it. I refuse to put Taco Bell in my mouth but I still love In and Out. Dieting drives me up the wall and never worked for me anyway. So my Foodie self can freely frolick in the flora and fauna of all the deliciousness I desire, I exercise for at least 30 minutes per day.

This article from the December 2008 issue of W magazine really spoke to me and you’ll see why.

Waist Not, Want Not

Meet the Thin Foodie: a curious new breed relishing these gastronomically decadent times.

By Jamie Rosen
Photograph by Jens Mortensen December 2008

It hit me when a previously picky friend dug into an appetizer of ramps and mozzarella at Bar Blanc, a restaurant in New York’s West Village: Almost everyone I know has become a full-blown foodie. My husband orders bone marrow as casually as he does chopped liver. Another girlfriend, who could once be counted on to wolf down such pedestrian snacks as spinach-artichoke dip, now indulges with a few slices of pork belly—a dish that is becoming as ubiquitous on Manhattan menus as the once exotic tuna tartare. Even I, who subsisted on grilled cheese and buttered noodles for the first 16 years of my life, have started making my own chicken stock and frequenting the Union Square Greenmarket.

But all these culinary revelations are not without caloric consequence. For every pound of pasta that’s fatto in casa, a girl’s skinny jeans go up one size. Thirty bowlfuls later, those jeans aren’t so skinny anymore. There seem to be some women, however, with both a yen for offal and an ability to wear Hervé Léger bandage dresses. They are what I like to call the Thin Foodies—those who, against all odds, can have their sweetbreads and eat them too.

Gwyneth Paltrow.

Gwyneth Paltrow embodies the type. In September she appeared on Oprah to discuss driving and eating her way through Spain with Mario Batali. “I eat everything,” she gloated, her macrobiotic days long gone. “I eat wild birds…. I eat cheese…. I’ll immediately gain five pounds just by thinking about cutting out dessert.” Before dismissing her as too genetically blessed to count, Paltrow admitted that her indestructible appetite is countered by the two-hour-a-day, six-day-a-week workouts she does with her “pint sized miracle,” trainer Tracy Anderson. “I just cannot diet,” she told Winfrey.

Neither can food writer Melissa Clark. On the afternoon we meet, I notice that Clark, despite being eight and a half months pregnant, has the sinewy arms of a teenager and a size-two frame. “I care too much about food [to follow a diet],” says Clark, who has written cookbooks with David Bouley and Daniel Boulud and spends her days testing recipes for Bon Appétit and The New York Times. She even cowrote a personal bible of sorts, The Skinny: How to Fit Into Your Little Black Dress Forever. Her eating philosophy breaks so many tried-and-true dieting rules that I wouldn’t believe a word of it if she didn’t claim that she’s stayed within the same four-pound weight range for the past decade. While eating out, Clark enjoys bread (“Only homemade bread, with homemade butter and fleur de sel”) and gets salad with the dressing (“You’ll eat much less if you just let them toss it in the kitchen”); she advises ordering what calls out to you the most, whether it’s osso buco or macaroni and cheese, as long as it’s accompanied by a generous side of vegetables. The trick, she says, is learning to recognize when you’re “just full enough” and then putting down the fork for good. “You don’t actually get full in the moment,” she explains. “You get full 10 minutes later, and you can do a lot of damage in those 10 minutes.” Most shocking of all, though, is that she recommends getting doggie bags from even the finest of dining rooms. “I’ll take home food from Daniel; I’ll take home food from Alain Ducasse,” she says without embarrassment. “And in fancy restaurants also—a lot of people don’t know this—you can take the petits fours home.”

You can read the rest of the article HERE

LOST!

The premiere is Wednesday, January 21st. Can’t WAIT.

A Clip from the Dec Onion Show