Friday Buzzkills: Feuding ourselves to death
You know it’s a bad week when even arguably the greatest Super Bowl in history—capped off by an in-your-face look at Bruce Springsteen’s “Jungleland,” no less—somehow fails to lift our spirits. We should all be celebrating our collective fortitude, renewed patriotism, and the fact that Kurt Warner didn’t get to spend all week talking about how Jesus is his running back, and yet here we are on another Friday evening, watching the heart of America sputtering its way toward bleeding out. In fact, it seems as though morale is so low that the purpose of this column has completely shifted: Chances are you’ll find most of the so-called “buzzkills” contained herein strangely comforting in their absolute pettiness, which makes us feel strangely impotent. Although we suppose you could look at it another way, which is that by distracting you with meaningless quibbling and empty schadenfreude, we’re actually providing something of a service. In fact, you could say we’re national heroes. Frankly, we’re touched by your candor. We absolutely could not have done it without you. Friday Buzzkills is America’s team, and we will never lose sight of the fact that we’re all in this together. Unless you need a job or something. That’s all you.
– Ho ho, poverty jokes… They’re funny because they’re true. But how bad is it, really? Well, only in the sense that jobless claims are the highest they’ve been in more than 30 years and most economists are predicting that we could hit a 10-percent unemployment rate by 2010. But those are just so many numbers; to put a cartoon face to the crisis, look no further than the fact that Disney recently posted a 32-percent loss in net income for this quarter. You know we’re fucked when happiness factories are faltering. Disney isn’t alone, either: Rupert Murdoch’s News Corp. reported a $6.4 billion loss, surely saved from even deeper ruin by its sole box-office hit Marley And Me—which is probably the best anyone can say about that film. (Other than giving us a nakedly desperate Jennifer Aniston and the “[Owen Wilson walks out]” meme, of course.)
Then, today came reports that Steven Spielberg’s DreamWorks became so hungry for cash that it reneged on its partnership agreement with Universal and began secretly negotiating for a bailout from Disney (great timing!). Unfortunately, DreamWorks’ strategy of playing the two studios off one another blew up in their face once details leaked to the press, and Universal basically told them to, er, go fund themselves. This means that the production house’s much vaunted deal with Bollywood financiers is likely to fall through as well unless Disney—which we just told you isn’t exactly swimming in Disney Dollars these days—ponies up, and that’s probably bad news for its current underperforming subsidiary Miramax, which would most likely have to be sold off to make room.
Got all that? We don’t blame you. Hollywood shuffles are so boring when Robert Townsend isn’t involved. Allow us to break it down: The movie industry is in such dire straits right now that Steven Spielberg can’t get funding. The top-grossing director of all time and the model for every wannabe filmmaker with dreams of making it in La La Land has to beg for money. Yes, we can go back and forth all day about how Spielberg “sucks now,” how he should have to pay for his hubris on Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The You’ll Watch Anything, Huh?, or how Hollywood itself has pretty much been rotting from within ever since $20 million started being tossed around as a perfectly reasonable number for a “low-budget, independent picture.” But the cold, hard fact is that the General Motors of modern moviemaking basically just went belly-up. Much as we’d like to, it’s hard to be flippant about that.
– Or then again, maybe it isn't. The Wall Street Journal reported this week that these troubled times have spawned a new cottage industry of musicians writing “recession songs,” mostly independent artists who have garnered unlikely Internet fame by picking up the rhyming dictionary and searching desperately for something to go with “Goldman Sachs.” But while hard times have produced great music before—Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan… uh, Phil Collins’ “Another Day In Paradise”—the latest crop of would-be fascism-killing machines seems more concerned with making groaningly specific references that are sure to get them YouTube hits, but mostly just make us want to set up our own bailout fund to ensure that these people never pick up a guitar again. Take Kevin Rockower’s “Bernie Madoff Song,” which strives to be flash-in-the-pan topical, over-the-top punny, and Christmastime ubiquitous simultaneously:
Mr. Santa, help me if you can, sir
I've nothing left in my portfolio
For Christmas can I have my Christmas bonus
Cause good old Bernie Madoff with my dough