Jamie Lynn's blog

The Australian TV industry just held its annual awards, the Logies (named after a guy we can all thank — or sometimes hate — who made television a workable medium). Some of the faces from the red carpet should be familiar to AfterEllen.com readers outside of Australia. Here's one: Demi Sorono, the out lesbian who made it to the final four of Australia's first season of So You Think You Can Dance. This was the final four:

The references to Demi's sexuality disappeared after the first few episodes, but the subtext was there the entire season. Speaking of shows with gay themes, some of the ladies of Satisfaction made the ceremony.

No Logie for the lesbian prostitute (possibly because her character was constructed entirely of clichéd craziness), but Alison Whyte took home a Silver Logie for Most Outstanding Actress.

In a desperate attempt to save itself from eviction, Big Brother Australia has been leading up to this year's show as something new. This week revealed exactly what's up. But first, can I just take a minute to bemoan the passing of Gretel Killeen as host?

I miss ya, Gretel. As hosts of reality TV shows go, you were about the only one I could stomach. Sometimes your flirtation with the house boys made me queasy, but Kyle's ogling of a certain busty female housemate last night nearly brought up the chuck. But ratings drop, and so it's out with the too "mature" and in with the young and new.

Except. This year, Big Brother picked a handful of the normal firm-bodied 20-somethings, but also assembled a wacky lot including a UFO nut complete with Roswell tattoos and — hold on to your seats for this one — a grandmother. I know, crazy.

Like that pink bunny, franchises keep going, and going, and going. But before we even have a chance to gauge Maria Bello's success in taking over the role of Evie in the Mummy movies, Bello revealed in an interview with MTV movie news that she's committed to another trilogy in the franchise.

Not that I'm complaining too much. I was a fan of the first movie in the Mummy franchise (though not so much that my ex-girlfriend spent fifty bucks to get a Brendan Fraser haircut after seeing it). If The Mummy's tongue-in-cheekiness wasn't enough to win me over, it was also my introduction to Rachel Weisz.

As I've lamented previously, I'll be missing Weisz in The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor, even though one could do worse for a pinch hitter than Bello. I do like the looks of her in the production stills.

Filming commenced this month, the first images are out, and here's the proof; Beyoncé really is playing Etta James in the upcoming Cadillac Records. This film is not a biopic of James (though that's not a bad idea), but a chronicle of the fortunes of Chicago record label Chess Records and its musicians. The cast includes Adrien Brody as Leonard Chess and Jeffrey Wright as Muddy Waters.

So here's a look at Beyoncé and the original.

And here's the first image off the set.

Even though this is not a biopic, the casting, you can imagine, is a topic for fairly ugly debate (even NPR had a blogger roundtable partially devoted to it). I do wonder about the wisdom of the role as a career move, at least for the negative press it's generating, including the inevitable references to the supposed Beyoncé/Jennifer Hudson rivalry following Hudson's Oscar win for Dreamgirls. And much (annoying) speculation about whether Beyoncé will be gaining weight or wearing prosthetics to look more like James. Can I take this moment to say that the young Etta James was no Twiggy, but she was certainly not fat?

Two years nearly to the day after 300 arguably ushered in a new era of CGI and impossibly chiseled male abdomens, the numbers are getting higher (even if the bar is falling lower). I'm talking, of course, about that anachronistic prehistoric spectacle, 10,000 B.C. The movie has the makings of the kind of action movie I'd love: historical settings, ambiguous prophecies, and a pretty girl.

But come on, Roland Emmerich. Mammoth-hunting cavemen leaving their frozen homeland to chase pirate slave-traders through the tropics by way of the pyramids to save the damsel in distress? That's beyond suspension of disbelief. (Although I may have spun a similar yarn as a kid in my sandbox. Sadly, my plastic dinosaurs looked more realistic. Also, my damsels occasionally had interesting dialogue. And occasionally saved themselves.)

But the movie gives the perfect opportunity to reflect on the history of women in pre-history. EW.com has posted a list of 10 prehistoric hotties to honor the genre. Or, in some cases, to honor actresses who braved bad costuming and worse dialogue for movies that should probably stay buried in the past. More women than men made the list, which is not really surprising, since cinematic prehistory is populated by svelte, bikini-clad women. (Possibly to attract present-day Neanderthals to the box office?)

First up, Daryl Hannah in Clan of the Cave Bear (1986).

I'd rather remember her as a mermaid or an android. No amount of revealing cavewoman dress could possibly distract from the grunting or truly Neanderthal makeup.

Next, as if this list could exist without her: Raquel Welch in One Million Years B.C. (1966).

Last fall, scribegrrrl assessed some of the most bizarre casting news ever, Drew Barrymore as Little Edie in Grey Gardens. That's the documentary-turned-musical about the relatives of Jackie Kennedy whose lives, dreams, and house decay in one of the most truly uncomfortable things I've ever seen. I wholeheartedly agree: I don't see Barrymore — whose on-screen presence is brilliantly suited for cutesy-romantic and cutesy-badass roles — playing Edith Beale without coming across as, well, just cutesy. For those of you who aren't familiar with the crazy-making documentary-turned-musical, here's some perspective.

In a more comprehensible choice, Jessica Lange, you might recall, is playing the mother. Personally, I'm still trying to understand why we need a dramatized version at all, when you can just rent the documentary. (That is, if you feel like being depressed. Or are depressed, and want to make yourself feel better by comparison.)

But Barrymore and Vogue have been working to convince the skeptics that she's up for it and, in fact, grown-up enough for it. Among other revelations, director Michael Sucsy recounts how Barrymore hunted him down, making her case accompanied by an inches-thick binder of her personal Little Edie collection. I do understand the fascination with Edie, a S-T-A-U-N-C-H woman:

For her part, in the interview Barrymore discusses the process of the film, from makeup to accent to mental readiness. Since Edie has about two decades on Drew, it took five hours of makeup, wigs, and prosthetics to transform her. She also signed on for months of dialect coaching to master the speech cadences of a Long Island debutant from the 1930s. This, she says, was the hardest part for a Valley Girl: "In those days, there were no R's. I talk out of the side of my mouth, and she talks from the back of her throat. It's really a different language."

It's hardly a news flash that misogyny is as American as, well, American Pie. Still, it's refreshing to stumble across a rant from a like-minded film fan to reassure myself that I'm not the only one who didn't find Knocked Up charming and funny. Or cry a little when Jack Black hooked up with Kate Winslet in The Holiday. Or, heaven forbid, see myself on-screen in Renée Zellweger's boy-crazy, insecure Bridget Jones.

And so I bring you highlights from a piece over at Radaronline.com, aptly entitled “No Country for Fat Chicks,” a snarky roundup of some of the most misogynist movies of the past decade. I'm just listing the past two years here, but here's the rest of the article for your entertainment.

The 2007 prize for sexism goes to Superbad.

Here's Radar's reasoning: “Seth is not cute. His cluelessness is not charming. He's a cretin. And the worst kind of cretin: a cretin who is afraid of vaginas.” It begs to be said: That is just super bad.

A runner-up for 2007 was Hostel: Part II.

I'm not going to pretend to understand the legalities here. I suspect that like most of us educated in the U.S., my knowledge of Canadian politics and history is sorely lacking, but I have that nostalgic liberal (and that's not a four-letter word, Fox News!) American tendency to view Canada as a little more sane than the land of my birth. You know, health care, gun control, laws that occasionally recognize LGBT citizens as human beings.

But it looks like more than my delusions of utopia could be at risk. Working its way through the Canadian government right now is a bill that would give the Canadian Heritage minister the right to ax promised funding for any film project it deems “offensive.” This apparently includes “gratuitous violence, significant sexual content that lacks an educational purpose, or denigration of an identifiable group.” That would seem to include films like these:

When Night Is Falling

Exotica

Last weekend at at WonderCon, a few lucky souls in San Francisco witnessed the trailer for the new X-Files movie. It remains to be seen if this is a movie that should happen — I am not a huge fan of the first — but catching a glimpse of it over at Cinematical.com, I'm sure I sat at my computer with an dorky fangirl grin on my face. Anticipation is sweet.

Retrocrush.com was on the scene to interview Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny afterward about the movie and their post-X-Files perspectives. Duchovny talks a lot (why am I not surprised?), but Anderson managed to get a few words in. Here are some highlights. And a snap judgment: Duchovny needs a haircut.

First, the news is that the movie will be a throwback to the beginning of the series; there will be mythology (as is hinted at in the trailer) but the film will be a standalone project for those who've never seen the series. And for those who stopped watching during the last two seasons, when even Annabeth Gish wasn't enough to compensate for Scully's annoyingly endless weeping.

Teri Polo, who did a stint on West Wing a couple of years back but is best known on the big screen for comedy, love interest, and comedic love interest (e.g., Meet the Fockers), is finally set to star in a movie that will not be a comedy. At least not intentionally. According to The Hollywood Reporter, in the indie film The Beacon, Polo's character, Sally Helppie, and her husband move into an old apartment building while mourning the death of their young son. Sally begins seeing the spirit of another dead boy, and with the help of her college professor husband and his college professor friend, they try to save him.

Save him from what undead dilemma, I know not, and I'm really not sure I care. If I wasn't over the “I see dead people” phenomenon after all of the ghastly copycats riding the ghostly coattails of The Sixth Sense, trying to watch a season of The Ghost Whisperer did me in. (The things I do to catch Aisha Tyler.)

Anyway, the movie's really not my point. Musing about the film, Cinematical.com's Monika Bartyzel pointed out the almost magical abilities of college professors in film to do everything from exorcising spirits to helping people figure out that the little voice in their head narrating their day might actually be Emma Thompson and not a condition requiring heavy medication. This is a movie cliché I could have mentioned last week.

As in the hallowed halls of academia itself, the guys usually bag the big roles, whether it's an action flick like Indiana Jones (where knowledge is power) or a Dead Poets Society, one of those inspirational teacher movies that are a genre unto themselves. But occasionally we get a woman professor. In Mona Lisa Smile, a free-thinking arts teacher tries to change her students and society. Julia Roberts fared a little better than Robin Williams, though. Lower death toll.

So you're watching a scary movie, and the expendable female character, who is probably blonde, is about to die. You know this because of (a) the Psycho-esque shrieking music, (b) the food, either in the microwave or stove, that is beginning to burn, or (c) it is starting to rain outside, and said female is trying to escape from her car but cannot hold onto her keys. The correct answer? Any or all of the above.

Ah, movie and TV clichés. We all know the things that happen only in the movies or on TV. If you've ever lived in a large city, you know that the Sex and the City girls had to be wearing some sort of taxi-attracting pheromone. That is, unless they were in danger, or having a bad day, or needing rescue by a man, in which case no cab would be available. Then they would have to walk, most likely in the rain.

This month, TVsquad.com and its readers have been tracking some favorite clichés. The lists made me chuckle enough that I thought I should share. Here are some of my favorites and my nominations.

Here's one that's bugged me for a while: “In bedroom scenes, men have sheets that reach their waist, but women have L-shaped sheets that come up to their chests.” No kidding! This is especially true on American TV. Heaven forbid we have a wardrobe malfunction and expose the country's children to the evils of the female body. (I know, some of this has to do with actresses who won't do nude or charge for it. But still. Double standard.)

I sometimes dread reading interviews with actors. You know what I mean — you're taken with that rare strong, intelligent female lead on a TV show or movie, and then you hear her interviewed on Letterman. She simpers. Or she voted for Bush, both times. And watching her act is never quite the same again. But this is never the case with Ellen Page, lately of Juno fame. (If you missed it, you can, in fact, see her smart interview with Letterman here.)

Page gave an interview over the weekend with WashingtonPost.com, and the only person who made me cringe was the interviewer, who couldn't resist a Canadian joke or obvious question. One subject was the critical “backlash” against Juno that began its multi-pronged attack after the film picked up four Oscar nods. Nobody around here is guilty of that crime, but some critics have been trash-talking the film.

Comparing siblings is never fair, is it? But here goes. When it comes to the Jacksons, I'd have to say I prefer Janet.

But that's a recent phenomenon. Back in the more innocent days of 1983, long before the freakish media obsession and allegations of child abuse, it was Michael all the way. That's the year Thriller hit the record stores, bringing a slew of hit tunes to the radio and red pleather jackets to the retail market. I didn't own the jacket, but Mary J. Blige and Beyonce did, or so they confess over at Amazon.com. Amazon is promoting the 25th anniversary re-release of the Thriller album, which includes special collaborations with current artists.

I'm pretty sure I have the dusty vinyl tucked away somewhere in storage, but I'm seriously tempted to get this album. Not for Michael, but because of the collaborations. Truthfully, if you could imagine Michael Jackson collaborating with any current artist, would this woman be the one?

Fergie. That's just weird enough that I might spend money to hear it. She's on the track for “Beat It,” and reviews I've read online suggest that if you are a Michael purist, you'll hate it, but if not, it's kind of fun.

That's the headline over at Eonline.com, anyway. We all know that Reese Witherspoon doesn't hesitate to speak up about women's issues from a feminist perspective, and this time she's addressing women's roles in Hollywood. She's been promoting her upcoming quirky little film called Penelope.

If you missed the 9 out of 10 movies that manage to pigeonhole talented actresses into tiny, underutilized roles or stereotypes, here's her take. Witherspoon wants a shot. At playing a badass with a gun, that is. And she's annoyed with shoot-'em-ups that feature some dude gunning down the baddies and saving the day. Or the woman, or the world, or any combination thereof. (I think I've seen the trailer for that movie under three different titles this week.) Her words:

"Why does the guy get to shoot him? I want the girl to shoot him! I love watching Angelina Jolie kick ass in Mr. & Mrs. Smith, and I can't wait to see her in Wanted. I would love to shoot someone. In the kneecap or something, just to stop them!"

Well. Hardly the words of a steel-nerved gunslinger. It's true she's no Angelina Jolie, but maybe I can see it. But even after gunning somebody down, you know Reese would end up looking more innocent and wholesome than before she drew the gun. Even leather chaps and a motorcycle helmet make her look petite. The stills from Penelope just make me want to pat her on the head.

In honor of Black History Month, Time has compiled a list of 25 influential movies starring, about, and/or for African Americans since Paul Robeson made his first silent films in the 1920s. I say "list," but it's really an article; Time offers a thoughtful (and at times nicely sarcastic) look at the films and actors in their historical and cinematic context.

As the article points out, in a day when Morgan Freeman plays God and Will Smith beats George Clooney as a box-office draw, times have improved. Hollywood has come a long way since setting Lena Horne's performances as vignettes that could be excised for screenings in all-white communities. (No wonder she gave up on the business.)

So here are a few of the titles (i.e., movies starring women) I found interesting. Some I've seen, some I need to.

Imitation of Life (1934)

At the heart of this adaptation of a Fannie Hurst novel is the conflict between Delilah (Louise Beavers), a maid and single mother, and her light-skinned daughter Peola (Fredi Washington). Finding she can pass for white, Peola decides to leave her family to live as a white woman, telling her darker-skinned mother, "Even if you pass me on the street, you'll have to pass me by." When Delilah dies, presumably of a broken heart, Peola is overcome with guilt.

The moral dilemma of passing to achieve social success but leaving behind one's family is its own subgenre in literature of that time, and the movie was one of the first films to offer a (somewhat) sympathetic view of a protagonist stuck between family and a whitewashed American dream.

Gone With the Wind (1939)

I was a little surprised to see this one on the list, given the subject matter (former slave-owners and the former slaves who love them). But it makes sense that Hattie McDaniel made the list for her role as Mammy, “the movie's moral center and the stern arbiter of Scarlett's strategies and whims.”

Or perhaps that should be "to glow in the moonlight." The protagonist is, after all, a human in love with a vampire. For those of you not familiar with the series, Twilight will follow in the footsteps of the Harry Potter and Chronicles of Narnia franchises in attempting to turn a bestselling young adult fantasy series into a multimillion-dollar cinematic spectacle. Kristen Stewart will star as Bella Swan, one half of the starstruck lovers.

She's done some growing up since playing Jodie Foster's daughter in Panic Room.

I've never read the Twilight series, which is a recent phenomenon (the first book came out in 2005), but here's the premise, according to MTV.com. Teenage girl Bella falls for what she thinks is a normal boy, but finds herself in an abnormal situation: The object of her affections is a vampire. But not just any vampire, according to Stewart:

“He's so good and he's so soulful and he's just not a liar — you can feel pain from him. The cool thing about the story is that it's a seemingly wonderful fantasy — let's fall in love with vampires and live forever — but it's so much harder than that. Imagine living forever. Living one life is hard enough.”

If you were paying attention to TV in the 1990s, you've got to be thinking the same thing I am. Is the author of this series paying royalties to Joss Whedon?

Here's a true Hollywood story. A successful and smart female filmmaker wants to write a film about her experience as a female in a male-dominated business that doesn't always want to hear her voice and relegates women to the supporting cast once they pass the age of 40. The movie deal is eventually picked up, but by a cigar-smoking ex-con who runs his indie film company into the ground and changes the terms of the deal so much that it looks like the film will never be finished.

And there's no happy ending here, even for filmmaker Amy Heckerling. Here she is with daughter Mollie, who was one of the sources for material in the little film that couldn't: I Could Never Be Your Woman.

If you don't recognize Heckerling's name, you probably know her work: She's responsible for Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Clueless. So it's hard to understand how I Could Never Be Your Woman will end up in the depressing bin of straight-to-DVD film releases sold in a big warehouse store near you, especially considering the stars. Michelle Pfeiffer, for one.

Last year, globalgrrl called the perfection that is casting Zoë Saldana as Uhura in the new Star Trek movie.

This year, Saldana spoke with blackfilm.com about the role, as well as her indie film, Blackout, which is released on DVD today. I'd heard a little bit about that project, and the IMDb.com synopsis promises as much drama and tragedy as the day the lights went out in Brooklyn back in 2003: “It examines the nature of man to take advantage of his own fellow man outside of normal conditions, in times of weakness and vulnerability.” You can catch clips from the film here, but here's a taste.

I'm only a casual fan of the Star Trek beast, but I found it interesting to hear from Saldana about stepping into a role practically trademarked by another actor, and her career to come.

This weekend, Super Bowl XLII went down as one of the biggest upsets in football history, and I came in for one of the biggest shocks of my own recent history: I actually cared. It might make me a bad lesbian, but I'm normally the one who goes to the parties for the Cheetos and party favors (not to mention the real competition — who can score the craziest commercial). This time I found myself obsessively checking in online. I blame being overseas: As an expat, I find myself being called upon to explain everything from sloppy joes to Mitt Romney, so I sometimes feel a little nostalgic for the things I never really understood in the first place.

But Popsugar.com has posted something in a football spirit that I can understand. I personally like the ref outfit.

Yes, Brooke Shields recently posed in a pinup-style football spread for Parade magazine. The photos took me for a pleasant stroll down memory lane; I still remember her early Calvin Klein commercials. I mean, wow.

In an accompanying article, Shields discusses being fortysomething in life and in Hollywood, after growing up as a child star. I'm morbidly fascinated by stars discussing aging in a business (heck, a culture) that worships youth and beauty, so this article didn't disappoint.

For those of you not familiar with the accent, that's moi with an exaggerated Australian o in the back of the throat, sort of a “mioye.” And here's a bit of wackiness that doesn't need translation. A couple of months ago, the linster informed us that the Australian comedy Kath and Kim will be remade by NBC for U.S. audiences, with Molly Shannon starring as Kath. Well, now she has her Kim. Meet the mother-daughter pair:

You're not imagining things. That is Selma Blair. She's just landed the role of Kim. To put this in perspective, let's take a look at the Australian originals.

Even though I've been happily catching up on the originals here, I'm sorry I'm going to miss the U.S. debut. The weirdness of the pairing with Selma Blair is reason enough to tune in, at least for a start. Originally, Joan Cusack was set to play Kim. Picking Blair instead is taking, well, a slightly different direction. I only hope she has the comedy chops to keep up with Molly Shannon.

With apologies to Ace and Marcia Brady Maureen McCormick, I'm going to be honest: In general, I can't stand popular country music. It comes from growing up in a farming community, mixed with memories of farm boys driving super-sized trucks up and down the parking lots for fun. (I do like Bonnie Raitt, who is generally considered a country singer, for her music and politics. But even that was spoiled, back when she showed up at a Lilith Fair and brought her fans. When I say two worlds collided, that's literally; my then girlfriend and I almost got jumped outside the port-a-janes. Yeah, ugly.)

All of that considered, I really think I'll be buying a country CD at some point this year. That's because Jewel — yes, that Jewel — has made a country album called Perfectly Clear, due out in June.

She's already charting the country markets. Her nicely titled new single called “Stronger Woman” scored the Hot Shot Debut at No. 50 on Hot Country Songs this week. You can hear it on her MySpace page.

The perpetual list-makers over at listverse.com have posted a new list I found appealing to my geekish tendencies: the Top 20 Geek Movies of All Time. I was relieved to see that these were movies for geeks, among whom I count myself, and not about so-called geeks, which is a totally different beast. (And the appeal of which I just don't get. I was in a house this weekend where Superbad was playing, and I still feel like the inside of my head needs scrubbed.)

The criteria for the list are a little hard to gauge, but there are a few things in common: space, or computers, or other sci-fi themes, or a combination of the above. Also, the 1980s spawned most of the geeky classics. One of my favorites made it: Short Circuit. Ah, Ally Sheedy circa 1986. My girlfriend says you look like somebody's mother here, but I say what's wrong with that? (Also, she was crushing on Sally Field in Places in the Heart, so I say her judgment may be questionable.)

A more recent film that made it was The Matrix. Again, I agree. The sequels were unwatchable, but I'll never forget seeing the fight sequences at the theater; this was a movie that changed the way movies are filmed. (Er, does saying that make me a geek?) Oh, and there was Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss).

Another good call: Serenity. I sort of think anything written by Joss Whedon qualifies for geekdom on that basis alone, and this one also has Jewel Staite, Summer Glau, Morena Baccarin, and Gina Torres fighting the good fight on the big screen. Enough said.

I remember my first visit to an independent bookstore. This was after slinking around the library in my small hometown for any gay/lesbian material and coming up with The Well of Loneliness. Walking into Dreams and Swords in downtown Indianapolis, Ind., with my first girlfriend was like walking into an alternate universe. One subtitled “Feminist Family Bookstore.” And for the first time in my life I could walk into a gay and lesbian room, instead of sneaking over to leaf through one or two queer books tucked into a corner of shame. That day I bought my first book by an out lesbian author: Zami by Audre Lorde.

Dreams and Swords went the way of too many independent bookstores over the past 15 years, casualties of the age of Wal-Mart and online retailers who can sell at 20 percent below retail price. Unfortunately, during the beginning of this year, D.C. area communities have to bid farewell to an African-American community institution, Karibu books. As the stores close its doors, African-American writers and audiences (and anybody who appreciates generally excellent writing) are losing a community icon. Karibu was one of the largest Afro-centric bookstores in the U.S., with the slogan ‘‘books by and about African people, 365 days a year.”

And with that question, film critic Joe Queenan isn't questioning movies like Beowulf or 300, with CGI background or characters. I might have been with him on that.

No, Queenan is lamenting what the advent of the information age has done to movies. His case in point: Psycho. If it were set in today's world, TripAdvisor.com and her PDA could save Janet Leigh from that fatal shower at the Bates motel.

I sort of see his point: I'm as tired of post-Matrix computer-age drivel as anyone else. But the pre-cell-phone-era films Queenan applauds, such as Beowulf, American Gangster, and No Country for Old Men, have something in common (aside from limiting cutting-edge technology to spear manufacturing or bolt pistols): a decided lack of strong female roles. You might as well call the Coen brothers' movie No Country for Women at All.

It's true: A musical version of The Diary of Anne Frank will hit the stage in Madrid next month. And that is a first. Although the story of the Jewish girl who hid with her family from the Nazi occupation in Amsterdam has been depicted in theater and in film, it's never been told in song.

I'll give them one thing: Isabella Castillo, the 13-year-old Cuban-born girl who will play Anne Frank, is absolutely adorable. And she has spoken of the moving experience of visiting Anne Frank's house and the Anne Frank Foundation. Here she is in front of the Anne Frank tree.

And it is impressive that the musical's producers even have the blessings of The Anne Frank Foundation. Those are the same people who once rejected Steven Spielberg.