One in red scrubs, the other in black.

These women, they are attractive. Around thirty, they look like they’re used to getting hit on in bars, to knowing what it feels like to have a man watching carefully as she leans over the pool table to take a shot. Neither woman makes eye contact or acknowledges anyone else in the elevator. There is an unspoken hierarchy. We all know it.

My level of celebrity has gotten to the point where people are digging up my ancient Tweets.

Several of mine, written way back in 2008 when I was only 42, have surfaced. Now that the fires of controversy, anger and hurt have subsided a little, I would like to address these Tweets. First of all, the Tweets themselves:

“More like No Country for Old Mansplaining! Can’t believe that piece of shit won best picture! Tommy Lee Jones was the worst, and there were no nude scenes!!! Zero!! #OscarsSuck!”

“ But it’s true, those goddamn orientals do work like dogs! How can we keep up! I really like the potential of this young buck of a councilor! Look out for Rob Ford, Toronto, he tells it like it is! #Orientaldogs”

“ I wish some great hacker would steal all the private, nudie photographs of hot movie stars and then release them to the general public! #EspeciallyJenniferLawrenceSweetJesusSheismyJesusMySexySweetJesus!

“I don’t know. Just something I don’t like about Barack O’bama. Maybe it’s the ears. Such a Ferengi. And we have no idea where he was born. #WhatAreYouHiding!?

“The blacks sure dominated the Olympics again!” #Beijing2008

***************************

Although it’s difficult to apply the cultural values of one era to another, I categorically apologize for my Tweets and to anybody whom they brought pain. I want to be clear that in no way do I endorse hatred, racism, homophobia, xenophobia or any form of bigotry or intolerance. When I made those Tweets I was young, immature and stupid, but regardless, there are simply no excuses for any of them.

In the fullness of time I have come to realize that No Country For Old Men was a great movie, in spite of Tommy Lee Jones talking an awful lot about weird things and there being no nudity. Women are not purely sex objects. I see that now. I am sorry I didn’t see it earlier.

I had no idea a hacker would take my Tweet as inspiration and that The Fappening would one day occur. I am sorry that I was an unwitting party to this sex crime. In the wake of #MeToo, I have come to understand the constant sexual harassment and intimidation that woman daily suffer, and women out there, I want you to know that not only do I hear you, but I am listening.  Thank you.

The Obama family were exemplars, and I am very sorry to have doubted them, particularly the girls. But perhaps more importantly I want to apologize to Star Trek fans and the fictional race of the Ferengis. It was not my intention to imply anything negative about this great and proud and kind of greedy species. In no way was I trying to say that they were Jews, and by assocication that Obama was a jew. That was not my intent. I was drinking heavily that year. I think Jews are great.

Lastly, I want to apologize to the all the blacks of the world. My words were insensitive and ignorant, and I now understand that not all blacks are good at sports. Just look at the Mets. I want to thank you, black people, for this gift of awakening. You have changed me.

I appreciate all the constructive criticism I have received. I’ve genuinely learned so much about how to be a better person and wish everyone all the best.

Namaste,

Michael Murray

PS: Please buy my book A Van Full of Girls. It’s the only chance I got.

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Westminster Dog Show just happen in New York City.

Big deal in canine world.

Westminster is for dogs what Academy Awards is for two-leggers. Everybody hate show and think stupid, but all like to sit around and make fun anyway!

Good times.

These Heidi thoughts on some of dogs at Westminster:

Mearle

Mearle very stupid dog. Tell by eyes and moron flop to ears. Not much upstairs for Mearle. No way could catch squirrel and probably no understand beg. Think Mearle maybe hit by car and that why so dumb. Probably looking at ceiling fan.

Lucy

Lucy big slut. Tongue out like trying to be all seductive while throwing innocent, come hither look. So fake! Slut Lucy just want treat, she no love you!! Lucy not even that good-looking. Heidi think maybe 6 out of 10, and collar she wear show she trying WAY too hard. Heidi hate Lucy. Whore dog who sex with cats.

Gracie

Oh, look at St. Gracie! She so holy her likeness should be on a cushion! What miracle you do today, Gracie? Gracie pee! ? Oh Gracie, surely you agent of God! Ha! Gracie saint of snobbery! She think she better than everybody, but she just a pretentious faker! Hope she get head caught in wall and everybody in world forget about her. Stupid dog, bad dog!!

Selah

Selah look nice, I guess. Friendly, like probably share toy.

Bug

Bug think he all macho and handsome Alpha stud. Heidi agree. Bug have perfect coat, Heidi just lose herself in rich, yet symmetrical tapestry of colour! And Bug eyes?! Dreamy. Such a strong and muscular dog! What Heidi would give to have Bug’s tongue lick her coat! Oh, Bug can be Heidi’s best in show all night long! Bug can pull Heidi’s sleigh any day of week! Golly, Heidi having spell, feel hot and need to run in circle a bit!

Eisous

This is completely retarded dog. Almost feel sorry for it. Very serious mental illness. Heidi don’t even understand name. Eisous? WTF? Heidi stay away from that dog, cross street to avoid it. Might be possessed or addicted to bad drug and Drano. Has self-harmer written all over it, probably bites off own fur. Show business very dangerous, many pitfalls and temptations for celebrities!

For the vast majority of my life I believed in the general sincerity of our governance. I mean, I didn’t accept everything that they said, I knew that they’d obfuscate to suit their own political agendas, but on the big stuff, when push came to shove, I trusted that we were led by people who would not directly lie while looking you in the eyes.

Now, I don’t want to suggest that I believed in a rigid, black and white Cold War dichotomy.

I understood that there were nuances and that the truth was round, rather than two-sided, but I did think that Western Democracies abided by some immutable principles and were to the best of their ability, “good.”

Well, when the US government cynically lied to it’s own people about Iraq having Weapons of Mass Destruction, and then went ahead and invaded the nation, resulting in the death of perhaps one million Iraqis, all the while knowing that Saudi Arabia was actually the country that nurtured the 9/11 terrorists, my child-like faith was forever shattered.

It was simply astounding to me that something so calculated, something so evil, could take place, and take place without a revolution of protest erupting in our streets.

I now view authority with a level of skepticism that I did not before, understanding that those in power always have more to protect and gain by lying than those outside of power. And so it was that I went to see the documentary Citizenfour last week.

It’s actually more of a living historical document than it is a movie, I think, as it’s a real time presentation of Edward Snowden, over an eight-day period, as he leaked NSA documents to some journalists and the film-maker in a hotel room.

It’s a startlingly media-savvy and perhaps unprecedented way to conduct a leak, and that alone gave the movie a surreal, kind of theatrical feeling. Snowden was very consciously “presenting” himself and his motives to the world. He was, in a sense, acting and this struck me as odd.

Snowden always seemed to be suppressing a small, self-satisfied smile, as if trying to conceal his delight in being a gravitational figure that was setting a great narrative into motion, and I was astounded by how articulate he was, speaking in unbroken, virtually literary paragraphs when describing his intent and circumstances.

Isolated, without legal counsel and unsure of what was to happen to him and everybody he loved, he did not betray any anxiety, but seemed, calm, confident and even rehearsed in his manner.

Now when I see such a thing, I don’t suspect Snowden of fabricating the leaks, which essentially reveal to the public that the NSA is an omnipotent entity that has access to absolutely all our communications and actions, I suspect the NSA of fabricating Snowden. He was a CIA agent, after all, and what’s the use of a grand surveillance apparatus unless the people beneath it are conscious of it and feel its weight pressing down upon them daily?

I don’t have an opinion on the matter at this point, and there’s no way I can gather enough information to make a lucid and truly informed judgment, but my faith in our institutions is at such a low, that like a mad man in an alley, I find myself given to question everything that they prepare for my consumption, and you know, it doesn’t feel very good.

We’re related, although the mechanics of this familial connection remain distant and unknown, and we only met once at a huge wedding about 15 years ago in Chicago. I thought we got along entirely brilliantly, but he proved reluctant to continue any sort of correspondence or relationship with me after the fact, growing more and more biting and bitter–as many aging actors who have never won an Oscar do– as the years passed and my career took off while he played the voice of Garfield in some movies.

At any rate, as some sort of promotion associated with the Toronto International Film Festival, Friday was declared Bill Murray Day and I was asked by a local publication if I would use my “special access” to the faded star to secure an interview. This is the result:

Dear Bill:

It’s your cousin Michael here, the funny Murray. Remember me? I was the one wearing the bowtie at the wedding in Chicago in 1998. I requested I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing by Aerosmith at the party and because you were a really big ham and sang it to the wedding couple in that cheesy-we’ve-all-seen-it-a-million-times-way, it became “their song” and everybody thought you were a hero.

Nice one, Bill. Anyway, it didn’t end well for that couple. Botched murder-suicide. Not that you’d care.

I have some questions that a newspaper wants me to ask you, okay?

Here they are:

1. What was it that attracted you to the role of Garfield? Was it because you were horny for Jennifer Love Hewitt? She’s less than half your age, you know.

2. What do you think of the massive nude celebrity leak? Was it a good thing for democracy?

3. Why wouldn’t you ever enter any of my fantasy baseball leagues?

4. Are you sick of making movies with Wes Anderson yet because an awful lot of people are sick of seeing you in movies by Wes Anderson?

5. Do you know any of the details regarding Traci Murray’s alien abduction back in 1987? She didn’t have any tattoos before, but three after—very puzzling. It is a great family mystery and you should perhaps consider making a movie based on it once you’re finished with the Garfield trilogy.

6. You’re a big golf fan. Would you say that’s your greatest embarrassment? If not, please explain.

7. Are you “above” correspondence? My mother always said that your side of the Murray family always thought they were “special.”

8. Did you know that I won the New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest?

9. Have you won the New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest?

10. You made some pretty controversial remarks about Jewish people back at the wedding, would you care to take this time to elaborate upon them?

August 15, 2014

Dear J-Law:

It’s me, Michael Murray again, just writing you a quick note to wish you a most excellent and happy birthday! It must feel incredible to be just turning 24, having already won an Academy Award and been nominated for a few others, all the while being utterly adored by absolutely everybody on the planet, including the Chinese, who are known to be cautious with their affection.

Chinese people never seem to like me. I don’t know why but I’m starting to think it might be because I’m really good at ping-pong and that they’re just a really insecure people. Any thoughts?

I would like to play ping-pong with you- we’d be a great match! ( I am gifted at puns)

At any rate, I have to say, I’d really like to feel incredible like you must feel all the time. It must be pretty cool, that feeling. Sometimes I feel depressed. Like right now, as I think about the insecure Chinese and how they hate me, I’m also realizing that I’m old enough to be your father! Funny, that, because it really feels like there’s great chemistry between us. If we starred in a movie together I think we’d become the next great couple.

Jennichael.

Do you know what helps depression? Touching. If you were to touch me I would feel less depressed. It’s a medical fact. It’s called Touch Therapy.

There’s also Sensual Touch Therapy for the people who really care.

It was a real shame about Robin Williams, don’t you think?

Anyway, I don’t want to be a drag on your big day, my depression isn’t that bad! I only get down because I’m sensitive and feel life more than most people! I just wanted to give you a big shout-out and wish you an incredible birthday full of much happiness, health, joy and success, and to let you know that Touch Therapy really works. It does, it saves lives. You are beautiful, staggeringly beautiful, and I bet you have cool, soft hands that smell like poems.

I would love to hang with you if you’re in Toronto for the Film Festival next month!

Michael Murray

PS: Bradley Cooper (pretentious name) is much older than you. Did you sleep with him when you made Silver Lining Playbook? I have seen that movie 24 times, once for every year you’ve been alive.

Like Andy Kaufman before him, Ford has the ability to create and live in the Venn Diagram overlap between the fiction circle and reality circle. Ford seems happy there, with the rest of us staring on in bewilderment, uncertain if what we’re witnessing is self-aware performance art or the Frankenstein id of some moron bully unleashed upon the world. Currently, Ford’s in the midst of what might be his masterpiece, his descent (with brother Doug and brother Randy) into Hollywood where he was rumoured to be attending the Oscar’s and is to appear on the Jimmy Kimmel show on Monday night.

Last night, while the Academy Awards were taking place, Ford was at the Kimmel party blogging fashion commentary on what the stars were wearing:

Pharrel

Look how small Pharrel is! I tell you, he never would have made the high school football team and if he dared to show up at school in that sissy outfit, we would have beat the crap out of him. I love that Robin Thicke video he’s in, though. Crazy hot.

Jennifer Lawrence

She’s a pretty girl, this one, but I have to say I’d have preferred if she passed on the Dior gown and wore that naked blue get-up she had on in the X-Men. You know what I loved about the name of that character, Mystique? Name of a stripper, and as she was always nude, it was perfect! Mystique was way hotter than any of the chicks from Avatar! Anyway, even with clothes on JLaw definitely deserves an Oscar for best boner!

Jared Leto

Okay, this guy played a sort-of-girl in a movie, so that’s why he has the long, Jesus hair, but that red bow tie? Trying WAY too hard. Why not a simple NFL tie, say a good working class team like the Cleveland Browns? That way he could make a statement, “Yeah, I might have long hair and play a rainbow in a movie, but I still like football!” and could still be an action hero or a guy who steals cars in his next movie. It’s weird what actors will do. You couldn’t pay me enough money to play a woman, even though I have tremendous respect for them and really value them as people and hope that they come out to vote and support Ford Nation on October 27^th!

Glenn Close

Has the appearance of a retired tennis player, somebody who would make you take off your ball cap when you went in her house. A real buzz kill. Looks like she’s going to a funeral, but she might be holding a flask in her left hand so maybe she’s still cool.

Lupita Nyong’o

She’s a string bean, but look at those arms! Really toned. I bet she’d make a great wide receiver or defensive back. She probably runs just as fast as hell. I’m glad that slave movie did well. Many of my voters come from slave people.  Looks like she’s wearing Prada to me.

The home-viewing options, although imperfect, are vast, and nothing could be easier than staying at home and watching Netflix at 8:00 or whatever other time might make my life simpler. Of course, Netflix is actually pretty lame, but in my life convenience now trumps quality, so instead of watching a movie I actually want to see like 12 Years a Slave, I end up binge-watching a TV show like New Girl. Such is the world that we, or at least, I, live in.

At any rate, Rachelle and I reached deep and mustered together enough will to go and see American Hustle at the theatre. This movie, directed by the successful but widely-despised-by-actors, David O. Russell, has been receiving all sorts of praise and is already a favourite to win the Oscar for Best Picture.

I liked the movie fine but was far from swept away. It’s a professionally crafted Hollywood film that features some big actors doing big acting in appealing wardrobe. Everybody is good, especially Amy Adams’ cleavage and Christian Bale’s hairpiece, but it’s one of those movies that actually looks better than it is.

The truth, I think, is that the movie was kind of incoherent, like a series of improvisations by talented actors that had later been stitched together by a director. It was as if Russell wasn’t thinking about how character and story fit together, but how each, individual scene would come across on it’s own. All the primary components of a film were showcased, without a film actually being composed from them, if that makes any sense.

Still, it was a pleasing enough experience, and in that regard it reminded me of Argo. Watching it, you felt like you were getting your money’s worth, that middlebrow Hollywood was functioning exactly as middlebrow Hollywood was supposed to function. The idea in Hollywood is to give the audience what they’re looking for, not to startle or elevate them, and movies like Argo and American Hustle are perfect examples of this—well made products where performance, the visible effort of performance, will always trump content. Regardless, the movie didn’t ask too much of us, and it didn’t give us too much either, but it was attractive and distracting, and on a cold, winter’s evening, well, that’s exactly what we want.

That’s an awful lot.

Obviously, this has nothing much to do with the quality of the films and everything to do with the marketing of the films. In order to feel invested and fully participatory in the event, we, as audience, go out to see as many nominees as possible– even if the movie happens to be Lincoln. It’s kind of like Black Friday for movies, only without discounts. What’s particularly funny about this cynical display is that one of the prime motivators for the audience in seeing the movies is to simply confirm  that we have MUCH better taste than the Academy. In fact, we will later Live-Tweet about what a horrible, self-congratulatory and vulgar spectacle it all is. But of course, we end up paying them for the privilege of doing so, rendering the ironies so plentiful that it actually gets tiring to think about them.

No matter, this year, the movie that most people are expecting to win for Best Picture is Argo. The film, for those of you who haven’t seen it, is based on the rescue of six US diplomats during the Iran Hostage Crisis of 1979.

Personally, I think that the movie is fine and little more. The one thing that really stood out for me was the opening, a graphic novel kind of prologue in which the historical background for the movie was efficiently and elegantly set. I’d give them an award for that, but for the rest?

Meh.

But Argo probably will win.

Here’s why:

First off, the Academy has always favoured the historical, and this one is appealingly set in an era that all Academy members can vividly recall (they’re at the center of history!)– so for them the movie is kind of like flipping through an old high school yearbook. It’s a story told through the experience of white people, about the vulnerability of white people isolated by impenetrable dark-skinned people, getting rescued by white people.

In short, Argo champions idealized versions of the audience that’s watching the film.  This is a relatively typical Oscar construct though and should be considered practically boilerplate. Where Argo really scores with Academy voters is in embedding Hollywood into the core of the story.

In Argo, for this whole scheme to work, the CIA has to recruit Hollywood to make a fake film, one that will serve as cover so that the hostages can be rescued. Suddenly, people working in Hollywood get to see themselves in a kind of romantic, even noble light. Competent, funny and successful, they have brash, cynical exteriors, but pure hearts. Working in secrecy behind the scenes and out-smarting everyone they meet with impressive sangfroid, they’re the coolest people in the room—the work they’re doing important, rather than self-serving and shallow. And this speaks directly to the Academy voter, allowing them to imagine themselves  in the best possible light, so yes, if I had to bet, I would bet on Argo for Best Picture.

However, soon enough I found myself distracted, focused more on placing the actors in their previous incarnations than whatever was unfolding on the screen.

“Look, there’s the guy from Parks and Recreation!”

“There’s Coach Taylor from Friday Night Lights!”

“I think the guy from The Sopranos is wearing a fake nose.”

“Man, that Jessica Chastain looks exactly like a young Julia Roberts!”

I don’t typically do this sort of thing when I’m watching a movie, so I figured that there must be something about Zero Dark Thirty, in particular, that was calling forth such a response. It was simple, I guess, the actors seemed more real to me than the characters that they were playing.

There was nobody in the movie that I liked or was particularly interested in, everybody seeming little more than a collection of suits doing their jobs. This might have been the directorial intent, but it kept me at an emotional and visceral distance, and the entire movie seemed procedural rather than human.

It was hard not to think of the TV show Homeland while watching, and how much of a better, deeper exposition of similar terrain it was than Zero Dark Thirty. I mean, I really, really liked Homeland, and had all sorts of feelings about the characters in the show, rather than about the actors hired to be those characters. Cable TV, with long narrative arcs, has become like reading a novel, while movies, with just 90 minutes or so, (or in the case of Zero Dark Thirty, 157 minutes) has to tell you a kind of hieroglyphic story, one that has to have an immediate commercial punch. And so TV shows, now digested slowly, as seasons rather than episodes, are like novels, and movies are more like an episode of a TV show, bound by all the limits of the prime time formula. It’s ironic, this, but such is life, and it is funny to observe that the consensus best movie of the mainstream this year, pales in comparison to one of the best TV shows of the year.

Sententious films like Lincoln and Zero Dark Thirty–arguably made for critics and awards shows– rarely end up serving the audience, whereas films like Pitch Perfect or The Perks Of Being A Wallflower, that are built to serve the audience, are actually much greater critical accomplishments. When the intent is to create something serious for an audience, or the critics that hover above the audience, rather than something authentic or organic within the artist, the results are always distant and insufficient, a suggestion of intent rather than the realization of it, and that artifice will always keep the true audience at bay.