Last night I attended a small-business forum organized by Manhattan's Community Board 4 that addressed the problematic future of New York's small businesses. The meeting was held in conjunction with a screening of Virginie Alvine-Perrette's documentary, Twilight Becomes Night, in which she recorded the gradual disappearance of several mom-and pop stores in the city. I first met Perrette while interviewing her for an Inc.com article (you can read it here).
The panel discussion included council members, academics, and high-ranking representatives of various organizations serving the city's small businesses. The occasion may have been neighborhood-centric, but most panelists agreed that New York, with its bodegas and small boutiques, could be the last frontier for independent business in the U.S. More than 200,000 small-businesses still exist in New York. But as chain drug stores and banks begin dominating Manhattan's avenues--it's no longer unheard-of to spot two branches of the same bank in one block--this frontier may be closing soon.
"There's a potential loss of the city's uniqueness," said Jonathan Bowles, director of Center for an Urban Future, a local think tank.
As with national bailout plans, any rescue incentive for mom-and pop ventures is bound to awaken the question of government responsibility. To what degree should politicians interfere, and how much should be left up to the community? Would a rent-abatement law be a feasible solution?
"This is almost a mini-version of the conversation that's going on in Washington," said Ester Fuchs, Columbia University professor.
Perrette's documentary may span the first half of this decade, but the film takes on a new degree of poignancy in today's economic climate. If the big, bad banks are in need of government help, shouldn't the bodegas be asking for their share?
Twilight Becomes Night will be shown tonight at the Richmond Hill Historical Society in Queens. For a schedule of future screenings, go to http://www.twilightbecomesnight.com/.
The depressing economy may be prompting us to keep our wallets shut, but so far it's doing very little to curb our fashion obsession. Amidst widespread corporate layoffs, our nation elected a new president, and the subsequent fashion coverage follows: This is how you can get Michelle Obama's look, and this is what you should purchase for your next job interview.
Not that there is anything wrong with it--I like admiring Mrs. Obama's nicely tailored wardrobe just as much as the next pop culture connoisseur, but there is something inadvertently amusing in The New York Times telling me that "a beautiful, chic tote" and a brand-new white shirt are requirements for a job interview. What if we don't have the cash to replace our frayed shoulder bags or our slightly yellowed button-ups during these economic times?
Assuming that the average American will never be able to forego shopping entirely--and that the economy is hungry for their contributions--most media outlets are focusing on affordability.
"You can look like you are wearing designer for not a lot of money,” designer Arthur S. Levine told The Times, and made reference to the less-than $200 suits of his that Sarah Palin wore during the campaign.
Affordability is, of course, relative.New York Magazine, for example, included a $145 J.Crew cashmere sweater under a headline that read: "Embrace Low Fashion."
Sameer Reddy of Newsweek, however, suggested a solution beyond just opting for cheaper fall looks; perhaps we should, in an effort to be truly conscious of the times, stick to our personal styles rather than rushing to buy the latest "must-haves."
"Get ready for a chirpy stream of annoying advice on "how to get 'The Look' for less" and tips about "fabulous finds for less than $50"," Reddy writes. "Given the shock we're about to go through on a global scale, it seems a little strange, if not downright delinquent, to continue doing things the same way as in the days of overtly conspicuous consumption."
"Perhaps a more appropriate philosophy for these soon-to-be-hardscrabble times is the uplifting mantra of personal style, which is based in confidence about who you are and what you find beautiful, as opposed to adopting an external prescription for fitting in," he continues.
Reddy continues by pointing out several fashionistas with famously eclectic styles (Vogue Italia contributing editor Anna Piaggi, for example), but the piece ultimately encourages us to wear what we always have and not let the whims of the fashion world dictate our self-worth.
Even more importantly, these tough times might give us the perfect opportunity to look inside our closets. Our wardrobes from last season may lack the peep-toe boots and mustard-colored cardigans of this fall's fashion pages, but they should do just fine.
After witnessing two years of emotional wrangling and finger-pointing, most of us are relieved to put the election season behind us. But as the nation transitions from the erratic, divisive Bush-era into the historically momentous presidency of Obama the rhetoritician, some journalists are declaring crisis mode on a flourishing art form: the political satire. Bush-impersonations have gone past the point of cliché, but no comedian is yet to figure out how to nail the uniquely relatable stateliness of Barack Obama. And most importantly, would audiences even respond if satirists like Jon Stewart mocked the messiah-like figure of so many Americans?
This week, New York Magazine outlined survival strategies for The Daily Show (according to writer Dan Kois, this may signal the start of a Colbert-dominant era for Comedy Central), while NPR criticized SNL cast member Fred Armisen's awkward Obama impersonation.
In his article, Kois said he wasn't worried about the survival of SNL, a show that just this year revived its dwindling ratings with the help of Tina Fey's turn as Sarah Palin. Rather, he wrote, Stewart's show depends on a viewership that's disappointed in its leadership.
"In one eventful day, the prototypical Daily Show viewer has been transformed: Once disaffected and angry at Washington's power structure, he's now delighted and hopeful about the new president and all that he symbolizes," Kois wrote. "And if you're an Obama fan — eager to give Barack the benefit of the doubt, and proud and excited about the change you've helped bring the nation — do you really want Jon Stewart sitting on the sidelines, taking potshots at your hero?"
In an NPR segment aired on Election Day, Hollywood Reporter editor Andrew Wallenstein praised Tina Fey's Palin, while calling Armisen's performance as Obama "horrible" and "painful."
While Armisen may have approached Obama from the wrong angle, Wallenstein also credited some of his failure to the difficulty of his task: When it comes to the president-elect, there is very little unintended humor to grasp onto.
"[Obama] is so measured, he doesn't really have any traits to exaggerate," Wallenstein said.
Today's New York Times included a story on the fifth annual New York Comedy Festival that focused on the comedic possibilities of soon-to-be President Obama. A festival panel that included writers for The Daily Show and Late Night With Conan O’Brien, as well as The Soup host Joel McHale and comedian Tracy Morgan, wasn't worried about a potential comedy drought. Many were planning to focus on mocking the media coverage itself--CNN's bizarre use of Star Wars-esque holograms, for example.
Obama's aides have already expressed some concern over the astronomical expectations that await the president-elect. Better times lay ahead, but some frustration may be inevitable--and opportunities for comedy closer than we might imagine.
As the effects of the financial crisis ripple beyond Wall Street, there has been much talk about how various demographics will be impacted. You may have read the account of one dismayed cab driver in New York Magazine, for example, or a New York Times piece detailing the dimming of New York's culture of greed (think lavish restaurants, pricey hotels and exclusive clubs).
Just recently, when rents skyrocketed and luxury chains gave a glossy tint to previously edgy neighborhoods, it was members of the indie music scene who declared a cultural crisis. And now, on the opposite end of the money-and hipness spectrum, classical music is being caught in the latest economic wave. Because this cultural segment relies on wealthy donors and audiences for its survival, opera houses and philharmonics are forced to cut back, Daniel J. Wakin of The New York Times reported on Monday.
"As it has everywhere else these days, the economic crisis has hit classical music, a particularly fragile corner of the nonprofit world that depends as much on donations as on ticket sales. Most managers are only in the fretting stage, but the plunge in stock prices, the credit squeeze and feelings of diminished wealth among donors and ticket buyers have begun to have concrete effects in a few places," Wakin wrote.
These effects seem to be visible nationwide: New York City Opera, The Chicago Symphony Orchestra and the Pasadena Symphony Orchestras have all taken cuts, whether it be in the form of canceled performances, crunched payrolls or increased borrowing costs. Some establishments, like The New York Philharmonic, saw their ever-crucial endowments drop this year.
So how are classically trained musicians, those who already work in a shrinking and brutally competitive field, affected? After all, only a small percentage of professional instrumentalists occupy a year-round orchestra seat.
Earlier this week, I exchanged emails with New York-based trombonist Marshall Gilkes, who maintains a busy recording and performance schedule domestically and abroad. Jazz is his main trade, but with a Juilliard degree under his belt, he is close to the city's circle of classical musicians.
"Musicians always complain," he wrote. "As a younger musician in New York, I have been hearing ever since I got to town how many gigs there used to be back in the "day"."
Other than high gas prices increasing touring costs, he hasn't yet felt any direct effects, Gilkes added. "Most of my gigs I have had on the books for months, and the stock market didn't really tank until August. I think that if I see a decline in work, it will be down the road."
"From what I've heard, live music flourished during the Great Depression, but I think that these times are different. It would be great if that happened again, but in New York it is expensive to go out and hear music. $20 cover often plus a $10 minimum. If people are pinching pennies, I don't know if you'll see them forking out to go hear music," he wrote.
The U.S economy may be in shambles, but for the movie industry, the next two months seem to signal a nice upsurge. Not only does the most universal form of escapist entertainment tend to fare especially well during economic downturns, but the end of October also signals the unofficial peak of the yearly Academy Awards-race.
Today's lineup of releases indeed runs the gamut, from High School Musical 3, the presumptive golden child of this weekend's box office, to the latest entry in the uber-grisly Saw franchise, and Oscar-tickets Synecdoche, New York, Changeling, and I've Loved You so Long. High School Musical is the perfect franchise for escapists, and while Synecdoche, screenwriter Charlie Kaufman's directorial debut, is unlikely to reach blockbuster-status, its overwhelming critical praise is likely to draw in those who are in the mood for more highbrow fare.
If history is any indication, this fall's economic disaster may set the perfect stage for a fruitful end-of-the-year movie season. Hollywood has long been considered a recession-proof industry.
"When times are tough, people want to escape to somewhere fantastic without having to pay actual escape-to-somewhere-fantastic cash," said John Ridley of NPR, in today's Morning Edition. "And offering a couple of hours away from the ordinary is what the movies do best."
Ridley also cited 1981 and 1973, other recent slumps in our economy that also turned out extremely profitable film hits like Raiders of the Lost Ark ($209 million), and Jaws ($69 million).
Based on this year's box office tallies, audiences seem to be overwhelmingly preferring escapist over perplexing. Last weekend's top-grossing movie nationwide was video game adaptation Max Payne, followed by Beverly Hills Chihuahua (the title says it all). The Dark Knight, Iron Man, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and Hancock top this year's total box office.
It's unlikely, however, that Hollywood will be entirely immune to the recession. Home video sales are slowing down, while studios like NBC Universal, Warner Bros. and Paramount are making budget-and production cuts, the International Herald Tribune reported. The number of movie releases in two or three years may be notably smaller, and eccentric projects like Little Miss Sunshine or Juno are less likely to be picked up by major studios.
Moviegoers should thus expect the current superhero-streak to continue.
Multiple Oscar-winner Oliver Stone may be adapting new tones as a filmmaker, but he has certainly not lost his ability to surprise those who claim to understand his style and artistic motivations. After the director adapted a shockingly apolitical approach to the events of September 11th and instead turned them into a small-scale tale of survival in World Trade Center, some expected his biopic of George W. Bush to signal a return to the fearless societal criticism that made Stone famous.
Instead, as both the filmmaker's own comments and today's reviews suggest, W. continues on a gentler, subtler path. The toned-down satire has impressed some and bored others, but the film's intentional lack of outward aggression towards the outgoing president has been the primary focus of almost every review of the film.
"Oliver Stone isn't being evenhanded exactly, but this isn't the hatchet job some may have expected," wrote Bob Mondello of NPR, calling W "a surprisingly unsurprising film."
"[This] unexpected take on the life and times of our 43rd president will surprise a lot of people, especially those not used to seeing the words "Oliver Stone" and "carefully modulated" in the same sentence," wrote the L.A Times resident movie critic Kenneth Turan. "Those yearning for a red meat entree, a kind of "Natural Born Killers" meets "JFK," will be disappointed," he continued, going on to praise Stone for taking an empathetic approach to the coming-of age tale of a tragically flawed character.
"Considering Stone’s reputation and Bush’s vast unpopularity, [W. is] a relatively even-handed, restrained treatment of recent politics," Todd McCarthy of Variety wrote.
Critics may have expected a more unapologetic tone from the filmmaker, but Stone's own promotional efforts of the film should certainly have prepared viewers for an experience much different from JFK or Nixon.
"I tried to be fair and balanced and compassionate," he told the Chicago Sun-Times last week. "I don't take sides. I don't take political sides. I'm a dramatist, and this is the movie I've made."
"In many ways, this is a classic father-son tale," he went on to say. "For W it's about saying, 'I'm stronger than Dad.' "
The film's release date, two and a half weeks before the Presidential Election, certainly implies that Stone is looking to send a political message to voters. But more importantly, the film--if successful--could provide context to these absurd times. Despite our freedom to choose our rulers, the fate of the world can still be decided by characters whose powerful narcissism is simply a cover for deep-seeded, personal insecurities. We haven't come so far from Ancient Rome after all.
The idea of comparing Barack Obama to Paris Hilton may be preposterous, but the Democratic Candidate's status as a full-fledged cultural icon is undeniable. While Che Guevara used to be the most likely political figure to end up on an Urban Outfitters shirt, stylized Obama-graphics now represent the trendiest in T-shirt design. Thanks to Obama's youth-friendly image, catchy rhetoric and comfort with the digital realm, he's the first candidate in decades to authentically appeal to the primary consumers of pop culture. It's no surprise that celebrities have made his cause their own as well, with an enthusiasm last seen with Lance Armstrong's Livestrong-campaign. Are there any Facebook users out there who didn't see an embedded video of Yes We Can?
The most recent celebrity-driven Youtube message is 5 Friends, a joint effort from Leonardo DiCaprio, Halle Berry, Forest Whitaker, Ellen DeGeneres, Dustin Hoffman, Sarah Silverman and others. The assortment of celebrities on screen is effective, ranging from universally recognizable icons (Berry, Hoffman) to rulers of the most recent comedy wave (Silverman, Jonah Hill). The message isn't outwardly pro-Obama--instead, it encourages viewers to vote by mocking the public's ignorance--but its style fits directly into the paradigm of this election. These figures, to whom many of us pay more consistent attention than our politicians, now appear as themselves on a grainy web video screen. That they are using their position of power to show concern for our choices has a potentially magnetic effect. I certainly enjoyed it.
Many of their target viewers, however, don't seem to be amused. Celebrities have always been targets of interjecting feelings of admiration, hatred and curiosity, but the world of TMZ seems to have extinguished much of the public adoration we are still presumed to possess. Meanwhile, our feelings of hatred and curiosity have shot through the roof; just consider the success of gossip magazines. Recent comments on the L.A Times blog, for example, oozed animosity. " This is typical silly Hollywood idiocy," one reader wrote. "Why the hell would anyone listen to them? They think they are so influential on Main Street. The arrogance is astounding," another stated.
Although the list of negative comments on Entertainment Weekly's Popwatch blog wasn't quite as long, the overall note was sour. One reader called the spot "extremely patronizing and waaay too long," while another demanded for a stop to the "trend of getting 40 celebrities together to support a cause."
Although I was entertained by the video--and appreciate public figures bringing attention to issues beyond product endorsements--it may just be that politicians as appealing as Obama don't need movie stars to get young people to pay attention. At this point, his cool-factor is way beyond Leo DiCaprio's.
Last Sunday's Emmy awards, like the night's big winner, Mad Men, failed to attract the desired fan attention; at 12.2 million viewers, the awards show's ratings were the worst since 1990. But unlike the decorated and critically praised AMC series whose viewership has crawled in the 920,000-range since last season, the telecast received almost universally lukewarm responses from critics (USA Today called it "hideously awful"). In both its disappointing ratings and negative feedback, the unofficial pinnacle of the year's TV season recalls another glitzy affair: The most recent Academy Awards broadcast.
Hosted by Jon Stewart, this spring's Oscars suffered their lowest ratings ever--embarrassingly, on the awards' 80th anniversary year. Like the Emmys, the telecast featured a slew of critically hailed but otherwise unpopular films, including No Country For Old Men, There Will Be Blood and La Vie En Rose. No Country, this year's Best Picture winner, totaled just slightly over $74 million in domestic box office--before and after the Academy Awards aired--while There Will Be Blood grossed $40 million during its entire theatrical run (as a comparison, the frightening embarrassment that was Norbit brought in more profits than either film). Perhaps not surprisingly, a survey conducted after the Academy Awards aired revealed that 76 percent of viewers hadn't seen any of the five films nominated for Best Picture.
I venture to guess that Heath Ledger will indeed get his posthumous Oscar nomination early next year--but not for his inventive Joker portrayal alone. Academy Awards organizers must be itching to reclaim their popularity, even at the risk of overlooking lower-budget films. And despite the awards glory enjoyed by 30 Rock and Mad Men, there's still a reason to fear for the future of intellectual on-screen entertainment. As it seems, acclaim is less relevant for business than ever.
Earlier this week, I attended the New York premiere of filmmaker Joanna Rudnick's first-person documentary, In the Family, at the Paley Center for Media. Scheduled to run on October 1st on PBS, the film chronicles Rudnick's efforts to explore the psychological effects of a genetic mutation (BRCA) that dramatically increases the risk of breast and ovarian cancer in its carriers. Rudnick herself was tested positive for the mutation in her mid-20s, making her a central figure in the resulting narrative.
Rudnick says she only made a decision to appear on camera after realizing that almost no young, unmarried BRCA-carriers were willing to discuss their condition publicly. Nevertheless, her first-person approach not only brings an instantly stirring quality to the final product, but offers insights into the nature of journalism as well.
The film's arc focuses on Rudnick's dilemma about whether to continue close cancer monitoring or opt for a more drastic, and less risky, choice: undergoing a mastectomy and removing her healthy ovaries as a preventative measure. As she researches the impact BRCA has on relationships between boyfriends and girlfriends, mothers and daughters and husbands and wifes, she also turns to activist organizations, lawmakers, and a company that owns the patent to the BRCA genes (and consequently controls the cost of the genetic test).
In her work, Rudnick sheds light on modern-day healthcare dilemmas and includes several heartbreaking moments within individual families. On a professional level, however, I was most fascinated by her approach to the project. While she interviewed her subjects, from cancer survivors to geneticists, with impeccable professionalism (she is trained in science journalism and works as a full-time film producer), she also included several scenes in which she had literally turned the camera on herself and spoke to it, confessional-style.
She isn't an on-camera natural, but Rudnick's undeniably personal attachment to the subject she covers gives a new perspective to journalistic work: Had she not let the viewer see her own struggle as a BRCA-carrier, she would have unnecessarily left the viewers in the dark about her drive to tell this story.
When Disturbia, the pre-Transformers Shia LaBeouf-vehicle hit theaters last year, most critics made reference to its similarities to Hitchcock's universally hailed Rear Window. Both featured a murderer next door, an intently curious neighbor who sees something not intended for his eyes, and a neighborhood that's slow to catch on to his suspicions. Perhaps most importantly, both feature main characters who are somehow immobilized (one by an injury, the other by an ankle bracelet). These heroes' confined positions both fuel their fascination with the world beyond, and make them vulnerable targets for the killer--it's a clever plot device that heightens the stakes in both films. Calling Disturbia a teen-centric adaptation of Rear Window is by no means a stretch.
For some inexplicable reason, however, executive producer Steven Spielberg didn't deem it necessary to obtain rights to reuse the story, and this week got slapped with a lawsuit from Sheldon Abend Revocable Trust. The estate owns the rights to Cornell Woolrich's short story, on which Hitchcock based his film. He and Jimmy Stewart obtained rights to the story in 1953.
According to the lawsuit, Spielberg had conceived Disturbia in hopes of updating the story for a young audience, Dow Jones reported. Dreamworks had also conducted several hundred test screenings of Rear Window to evaluate teenagers' and twenty-somethings' familiarity with Hitchcock's work. The two films were also shot on the same soundstage.
Read the rest of Chad Bray's Dow Jones story here.
As of now it's unclear why the Abend Trust waited for so long to demand its share of the wealth. Some bloggers have mocked the plaintiffs' slow response time, while others have derived that the estate decided to act only after Disturbia became a worldwide hit.
"The news that Steven Spielberg is being sued…doesn't come as a major surprise in the legalistic world of Hollywood. Even more so when the movie itself is one that became rather profitable," wrote Maxim Jakubowski in his blog on the UK's Guardian web site.
The trust may also have chosen to sue just as Spielberg's and LaBoeuf's latest collaboration, Eagle Eye, is about to hit theaters, wrote Geoff Boucher of the L.A Times.
Even before his 2003 death, estate representative Sheldon Abend was quick to fight for his rights via litigation: In 1974, he sued Hitchcock and Stewart for copyright infringement after the director failed to ask for his permission before scheduling network TV showings of the film.
The most recent mess may just inspire Hollywood producers to focus more on finding original story lines. Or not.
