Is it just me or is there anyone else out there who like me, thinks Julia Roberts is an OK actress, but hardly a Hollywood goddess?
She just isn’t pretty in my opinion. Her head is huge, her mouth goes ear to ear. I’m sure she’s a nice person and a perhaps even quite talented with a script in hand, but physical beauty? Only if you’re really into Pez dispensers.
Otherwise, I’m just not seein’ it.
I was skimming through the satellite this weekend and stopped on the Disney Channel. Hannah Montana was on. I watched it for a while, embarassed by the horrible writing and even worse acting. That’s when I decided to regard series lead actress, Miley Cyrus as strange. For starters, she’s been 16 for the past four years and her voice has a creepy timbre to it. I had a deep voice as a child and young woman, but she’s vying to be the next raspy talking Brenda Vacarro, Suzanne Pleshette and Rose Marie in terms of vocal stylings.
She’s a woman child in the strictest sense.
Did I mention that I find her completely annoying, too?
So, I was watching something on some channel Sunday afternoon and up flashed Barbara Walters on the screen. I was startled at what I saw.
You see, when an esteemed actors or newsperson (especially for those with XX chromosomes seething throughtout her DNA’s doube helix) starts to age physically, the Director of Photography will often try to help out the magicians in make-up by filming the woman through a soft filter or gel screen which attempts to soften the facial lines and wrinkles. You can tell if a lens of this nature is being used in the shot. It has an almost ephemeral quality to it.
In Babs’ case, I could barely discern it was a human being, much less her specifically. I found the whole attempt to make this octogenarian appear young and vivacious quite funny.
She just looked out of focus.
Well obviously, this is a case of ‘Vanity, thy name is Barbara’ and I would suspect the image of her on our TV screens will only get worse in the future. I imagine that by spring of 2011, she’ll simply come across on camera as ectoplasm.
So come on, Barbara—suck it up like fellow journalist, Helen Thomas. Helen don’t care about her looks no more. She don’t go for no Vaseline schmeared on the lens. Helen is open and honest about her hideousness. Gravity and age (and apparently political heat from Obama love) are combining to contort her face into sort of odd Picasso-esque face melt.
Case in point:
This is a photo of Helen from 2000.
We can see evidence of face melting back then; some nine years ago.
Here’s Helen in present day, photographed not long after she attended a White House Press briefing:
I like your moxie, Helen though I suggest you do something about that eye popping thing that’s happening. I’d suggest having your physician check your thyroid.
Dakota Fanning is also kind of creepy. I don’t think she has ever been a child. She had such an adult-like countenance about her. I doubt if she ever played; pretended to run a store, a hotel or a brothen as we did when we were kids. I’ll bet her memories of childhood consists of nothing but sound stages and craft services.
Sadly, that could contribute to some fairly strange behavior as an adult. Oh, you know…Michael Jacksony stuff. Perhaps she’ll some day collect llamas, sleep with Eric Stolz’ facially mishapen mask used in the movie of the same name; buy Allen Funt’s bones (anyone??) and pal around with a large Rhesus monkey named Soapy Orbs.
This is quite possible since Dakota’s father’s full name is actuallyJoseph Jackson Fanning.
I am no longer a fan of Brad Pitt. I thought he was the cutest thing next to squeezing my ass into size 6 jeans when I first saw him in Thelma and Louise back in the early 90’s. I thought he was a decent actor, too but then I saw him in the movie, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. You know that scene in which he comes back to the hotel room with breakfast after he and Anjelina’s character spend a night of debauchery together? She’s just woke up and still in bed, a flower in her hair and he’s standing by the window looking at her. As he does, his nostrils flaring like some scent horny simian preparing to pounce on a nest of tasty, tasty termites.
Haven’t been able to look at him since.
Finally, I can’t get into the show, Desperate Housewives. I can’t trust a situation (real or from Tinsel Town) in which the females characters are all thin, decent looking, perfectly coiffed, expertly made-up and wearing amazing clothes that don’t possess ANY elastic around any waistband at any time.
Ah yes…to someday be able to walk through a door at the same time my stomach does.
Oh, the pain. Oh the pain!!