Sensation huh?

Just when you though there could never be another Ricky Martin, fresh out of a Saturday Night Live skit comes Sergio Badanicci. I'm absolutely terrified at the thought of it but you know as well as I do in a world where Borat led the box office and Right Said Fred convinced the ladies he was "Too sexy for his shirt" this Sergio guy is going to sell and likely sell BIG!

I have a feeling we are going to be seeing alot of this Sergio character and the more we hate him and try to resist.... The larger he'll become!

Somebody stop this madness!!!

Sergio Badanicci "The Sexman" is going to annoy me faster than Ryan Seacrest and the "new" 90210 combined.

As always tell me what you think.

Steve Flanagan
www.HardLifeStyle.com

Yesterday I decided to find out what it was like to be blind, not permanently, you understand...I'm not that committed to new experiences. So I took a look around my room and house so as to remind myself where everything was and then put a weird plastic eye cover on, it's actually a cosmetic eye thingy but it has gel in it and fits over your eyes perfectly and allows nothing but a weird glowing light through, you can't make anything out at all so your blind but there's light (if its light that is). Now within 10 seconds someone had come into the house and moved every fucking thing around. I could find nothing...no doors, furniture found me, I didn't find it and stairs, oh no that was a scary, slippy, tumbling experience. So, after nearly killing myself I decided I'd have a cup of tea. Building and exploding a nuclear bomb in my toilet would be a less dangerous exercise. After pouring boiling water all over the place I thought perhaps a sit down would be a safe and sensible thing to do - so I sat on a bit of chair and floor and the vacuum cleaner. How that arrived I'll never know. I had originally decided to be blind for an hour - which I reckon had already passed so I thought I'd take off the blindfold only to find that a mere 20 minutes had passed. Shit to that, blind people are hard and tough and I'd take off my hat to them only I squashed it when I was blind. Tomorrow I'm going to be an Astronaut...

all.

I am surrounded by brown envelopes as I mail out entries to film festivals and send copies to distributors ( who are going to ignore them but what the hell). I thought I might send one to Obama to see if he can see the similarity between his freak show and mine .....Here comes Gustav, do you think they named the hurricane after the painter or the composer? They always have such romantic names, why is that?

22 year old from Kazakhstan !!!

Never thought this could happen, but is it sad that the first thing that came to my mine was Borat?

Wonder what he looks like.........

-D

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*insert Borat accent ;)

So, at first I was going to post this picture because I happen to think that Isla Fisher and Sacha Baron Cohen's daughter Olive is one of the cutest celeb babies out there! But, as I looked closer I thought I recognized the woman pushing the baby carriage in the airport with the happy couple, who were on their way back from a Hawaiian vacation. With some help from my friend Google, turns out that woman is Deborah Carroll, who you may recognize from Fox's TV show Nanny 911.

Not sure if Nanny Deb is going the solo route now and nannying for celebs or if Olive's proving to be a handful...interesting nonetheless.

The film ( you know which film...) is screening in Liverpool as part of a disability arts festival. That's fine though I have reservations about being labeled a disabled filmmaker, makes it sound like my films are crap and like I'm trading on political correctness to try and make a living. Still should be good for an argument with some uptight and cross cripples. There's a Q&A with me after the screening, I'm looking forward to that in a perverse sort of way. Anyway it's on the 4th sept in Liverpool at the DADA festival so come along if your in the area...

Wouldn't it be great if these things didn't pretend they spoke anything but broken English?

Someone had already thought of this. Lo and behold, what for I found the perfect voice for my personal GPS device. For whenever I get to where I'm going, now I hear, in a thick, eurotrash accent:

Oh! Here we are, at destination. You drive like you are drinking fermented horse urine, very nice. High five.

Very nice, indeed. Next up: Stephen Hawking.

Postscript: Suddenly, I feel like a little piece of my soul died. It's almost as if I had wrote:

Gone are the days of stilted telemenu voices, friends. Let us put new use to and make much light of English learners and the disabled.

It's like I'm Jerry Lewis.

Maybe I'll go back to the default voice. It, at least, doesn't damage me morally.

So I talked to my local former "zeta" and she said...It's Zeta Beta Something ...they would never let that happen. So this is off the preview. It soo says ZTA but the "e" to spell zeta is missing.

In a classy display of sportsmanship typical of communist countries, Fidel's pet taekwondo athlete Dionysiatys Rodriguez or whatever kicked a referee in the face after losing a match to Arman Chilmanov of Kazakhstan, a free nation formerly of the Soviet Union. His coach, Rolandito "El Karateca de la Canción" Gonzalez, stood up proudly for his athlete, claiming that the referee, Chakir Chelbat of Sweden, was too harsh for disqualifying him, citing Swedish stereotypes of cruelty and very bad 90s dance music. Chelbat disqualified his athlete after Rodriguez decided to sit on the floor and wait for the referee to call victory- hey, if not doing any work and sitting around constitutes victory in socialism, why not in sports? The referee disqualified him for being lazy, and was swiftly kicked in the face. He attempted to attack several other officials before Olympics organizers could properly intervene. The Communist Cubans are accusing Kazakhstan, a nation with three radio stations popularized by British actor Sacha Baron Cohen's character Borat, of having enough money to bribe the judges, something that communists obviously haven't been doing all these Olympics.

For more on this story, check out Yahoo! Sports.

This is the way Communists behave; with total disregard for the Olympic Spirit, in fact, they hate everything that is about peace and fair competition:

Graças a você, finalmente passamos o Cazaquistão!

Toma, Borat!

Além do Borat, ficaram pra trás Azerbaijão, Zimbábue, Coréia do Norte e os "assholes" do Uzbesquistão. Yey!

E minhas esperanças de terminar na frente da Argentina foram renovadas.

No caso de Zohan - O Agente Bom de Corte, é difícil não achar graça de muitas situações. O roteiro (de Adam Sandler, Robert Smigel -- de Saturday Night Live, e que faz uma ponta -- e Judd Apatow) é bem interessante, e direta ou indiretamente goza de filmes de ação como James Bond e o recente "Hancock", onde os mocinhos são super-heróis ou quase. Difícil não lembrar em alguns momentos do humor retratado no também recente "Borat", em especial no que se refere à relação Israel-Palestina -- melhor não levar muito a sério, já que o tom é de exagero em cima do extremismo. Mas "You Don't Mess with the Zohan" (título original) quer mesmo é fazer rir, e consegue de forma tão eficiente que duas pessoas tiveram que sair da sala escura passando mal de tanto rir.

Mesmo contracenando em poucas cenas, o trunfo principal do filme é o trio formado pelos irreconhecíveis (no ótimo sentido) John Turturro e Rob Schneider e um Adam Sandler numa hilária e excelente interpretação: mais um grande acerto, portanto, deste ótimo ator. Destaque também para Lainie Kazan (de "Casamento Grego").

Há participações especiais e divertidíssimas de Chris Rock, Mariah Carey e John McEnroe, entre outros, interpretando a si mesmos, sem medo de pagar mico. Mas as distribuidoras americanas mais uma vez mostram sua faceta falso-moralista ao evitarem, na divulgação e cartazes do filme, destacar os "atributos" do personagem principal: um 'detalhe', trocadilhescamente falando, que só após assistir ao filme dá para perceber.

Entre o pastelão e o irônico em meio a algumas piadas inteligentes, outras nem tanto, o filme Dennis Dugan evita o grotesco e o escatológico: é uma excelente pedida para quem quer "desopilar". Com pitadas (literalmente enormes) de sexo e bons efeitos especiais, compre logo sua pipoca e divirta-se. E aproveite para cortar o cabelo.

At one point in "Tropic Thunder," the new comedy from writer/director/star Ben Stiller, co-star Robert Downey Jr. plays and Australian Method actor portraying a black southern soldier pretending to be a humble Asian rice farmer.

Downey Jr. treats his high-wire performance with such dignity and devotion that he spends almost the entire film in blackface without once seeming condescending or racist.

But let us back up a bit, shall we?

"Thunder" is not only a scathing little indictment on the film industry, but, minute for minute, one of the funniest films released this year, overcoming the third-act slump that befalls so many big-budget comedies released today (I'm looking at you square in your bloodshot eyes, "Pineapple Express.").

The film, centering around a bunch of whiny actors who sign on for an epic war movie, begins with a wonderfully ingenious way to give us all the back story we need about its leads.

Whatever you do, don't arrive late to this movie. Three previews begin the film, one featuring past-his-prime action doll Tugg Speedman (Stiller) who's milking his once-popular franchise, "Scorcher," for its very last drops of testosterone. It's a well that Speedman has reluctantly returned to after an ill-advised attempt for acting legitimacy while playing a mentally challenged man in "Simple Jack."

It's followed by "The Fatties," a comedy in which its chubby trainwreck star, Jeff Portney (played by Jack Black), dons various fat suits for a number of roles as a flatulent family.

Rounding out the trio of trailers is a phony "prestige" picture, "Satan's Alley," starring five-time Academy Award-winning Lazurus as a monk who longs to taste the forbidden fruit of a fellow man of the cloth.

In that brief setup, we know all that is needed about the three main actors of "Tropic Thunder," the name of a Vietnam opus in which each of the actors will share the screen for various career-enhancing reasons.

After a series of prissy meltdowns delays production, first-time director Damien Cockburn (played by Steve Coogan) is threatened by a maniacal producer who plans to abort the film altogether.

In a last-ditch effort he drops off the leads -- with co-stars Alpa Chino (played by newcomer Brandon T. Jackson) and Kevin Sandusky (played by Jay Baruchel) -- deep in the jungle leaving them to their own Blackberry-less, Tivo-less devices.

It's a comedic plot that harkens back to "To Be or Not to Be," with a lot of "Three Amigos" thrown in for good measure, but Stiller takes the time along the way to slaughter cow after sacred cinematic cow. "Thunder" has countless throwaway gags, none wearing out their welcome like the director sometimes did in his previous effort "Zoolander." And when it's not chucking those at the screen, a number of big-named actors whoop it up in secondary and cameo roles.

And while Stiller deserves credit for both crafting and capturing the film, it's Downey Jr. who brings "Tropic's" thunder.

It is a role that could have sunk the film faster than a "Soul Man" sequel, and required the utmost respect in its execution to avoid any hint of racist intent. But in an industry that celebrates the mere weight loss or gain actors undergo for a role just as much as performance itself, he captures the pomposity and disillusionment that some actors embrace for the sake of their "art" with equal amounts wit and warmth.

There are other surprise pop-up performances that, if you have not heard about yet, you should try to witness firsthand before receiving lame line-readings from friends.

There is no doubt "Thunder" steps over the line from time to time, but, like "Borat," it's still refreshing to witness a big studio comedy that is willing to stick it's neck out once and a while for a funny, rather than resort to the toothless "yuks" from the wretched parodoic parasites like "Meet the Spartans" and its hell-spawn ilk.

Not since 1999's "Bowfinger" has Hollywood taken such an intelligently staged skewering, and Stiller has returned to the same biting satiric edge he once sp gloriously displayed in his short-lived television show.

After seeing "Thunder," it will be hard to hear the about the heavily supervised "hell" actors claim they undergo when prepping for a role without being reminded of one of Downey Jr.'s blisteringly amusing monologues of what it takes to earn one of those prestigious little statuettes Hollywood likes to hand out to one another at year's end.

These Rock of Love chicks really get around. Motley Crue drummer, Tommy Lee, is now dating one of Bret Michaels' former love interests from Rock of Love 2: Daisy De La Hoya (above). So sayeth E! Online.

Isn't this the girl who tried to be erotic by sucking her fingers? (sources say that there was a lot more going on than holding hands with Bret)

But really, how many girls can Tommy Lee date? No he's going after Bret Michaels' rejects.

And no more Pam Anderson for Tommy. She's moved on ... dating some rich Arab guy from the United Arab Emirates (silly me, I thought she'd be dating Borat!).

As one person commented on blabbermouths post: "More people will now have hepatitis and syphilis." Ouch. Sad but possibly true.

Il giornalista più famoso del mondo è arrivato sui nostri schermi. Antisemita, maschilista, volgare, reporter in un America macchiettistica e sottosviluppata, Borat Sagdiyev promette fuoco e fiamme. E invece è un piccolo cerino che presto tutti dimenticheremo. Certo, di fronte a un film del genere, sorge spontanea una palese constatazione. Cioè che i media e la pubblicità potrebbero venderci qualsiasi cosa raccontandoci qualsiasi cosa. Assieme a questa banalità, però, va anche detto come e dove nasce Borat: per capire di cosa si tratta bisogna infatti contestualizzare e sapere che Sacha Baron Cohen – il creatore del personaggio – è un attore comico televisivo e Borat è una delle sue creature, apparsa in parecchi show made in Usa come il David Letterman. Baron Cohen è un tipo eclettico: inglese di nascita, laureato in storia a Cambridge, si è trasferito in America dove è diventato celebre con il personaggio del sottoproletario londinese di origine giamaicana Ali G., e con il programma “Da Ali G. Show”. In questa trasmissione sono comparsi prima l’australiano Bruno, omosessuale esperto di moda, infine il giornalista kazako Borat, specializzato in volgarità scatologiche e pornografia. Insomma, è come se a un certo punto Paolo Hendel avesse fatto un film su Carlcarlo Pravettoni o Corrado Guzzanti un film su Quero. Andare a vedere Borat è come andare a vedere il film di Mister Bean… Infatti il problema di Borat è che non è poi così divertente, proprio come spesso non sono divertenti i film tratti da gag nate per la tv. Se non che l’America è l’America, e uno starnuto del continente fa venire l’influenza all’intera comunità globale, quindi tutti nel mondo vanno al cinema a vedere il viaggio del giornalista kazako negli Stati Uniti, dove il governo lo manda per apprendere i segreti di quella cultura superiore.

Nel film ci sono idee buone e idee meno buone. Prevalgono le meno buone. L’idea migliore è il “mischione balcanico” utilizzato per raccontare il Kazakistan: musiche di Bregovic, macchiette alla Kusturica, zingari e casino. Per l’americano medio, che differenza volete che ci sia tra la Macedonia, il Kosovo o una repubblica del Caspio? Si tratta pur sempre di popoli selvaggi che stanno là, oltre le colonne d’Ercole dell’Occidente. Pertanto la confusione e l’idiozia geografica sono una scelta perfetta. Ecco, magari gli autori potevano inventarsi uno stato inesistente per non offendere i poveri kazaki… ma andiamo avanti. Oltre a questo, il film è un susseguirsi di episodi e sketch che dovrebbero mettere alla berlina le idiosincrasie della società americana, passandone in rassegna gli stereotipi. Abbiamo i neri con i pantaloni calati che dicono “Ehi fratello”, la confraternita del college, le femministe, i pentecostali fanatici, e ovviamente il sogno d’amore con la donna americana per eccellenza. Pamela Anderson. Alcuni episodi sono solo imbarazzanti e orrendi. L’arrivo a New York gioca sui più triviali meccanismi delle commedie trash (tanto vale vedersi Porky’s o American Pie), mentre altri momenti funzionano. In particolare quando Borat si trova sul camper della confraternita di un college, o l’incontro con la prostituta Luenell, oppure funzionano certe trovate veramente stupide ma talmente eccessive da far ridere (l’acquisto di un orso per difendersi dagli ebrei o l’incredibile, oscena ed esilarante sequenza della lotta nell’albergo). Quel che proprio non si capisce, è dove il film voglia andare a parare. Borat si identifica e si trova a suo agio nei contesti più squallidi della società americana. Negli altri casi fa semplicemente delle figure di merda ben superiori alla piattezza intellettuale dei suoi interlocutori. Quindi? Alla fine, il taglio e la logica del film sfuggono del tutto. Né corrosivo, né sufficientemente intelligente, Borat è un’operina molto, ma molto esile. Insomma, se non fosse arrivata da oltre oceano, non ci saremmo accorti della sua esistenza.

Borat: Studio culturale sull'America a beneficio della gloriosa nazione del Kazakistan, di Larry Charles, USA, 2006, 84 minuti

Cast: Sacha Baron Cohen, Pamela Anderson, Ken Davitian.

Uscita: 2 marzo 2007