Red Band Rant: An Open Letter To Nia Vardalos
I just read your impassioned op-ed over at the Huffington Post. You know, the one where you cry wolf on the big, bad studios trying to rid the women of America their voice. Pretty impressive how you found time to shamelessly promote your own film in the midst of discussing the larger social ramifications of marginalizing women in the motion picture industry. Unfortunately, the whole dipping your own film in the societal gender debate sort of makes you come off like a disingenuous harpy trotting out a moral compass to inflate your own wallet. Or a self-absorbed cunt who hasnít realized her shitty film isnít the end all be all indicator of ethics, patterns of thought and sweeping societal change.
For the sake of debate, letís assume the former is closer to the truth. Letís assume you wrote this call to arms purely for the financial dividends it could reap. Fuck you. Thatís low, like poison the communal food and tell everyone youíre not hungry low. The majority of films are written by men and about men. Now, this could be due to a lot of reasons I probably shouldnít speculate on: the old boys club, a never-ending, self-perpetuating cycle of men producing art which inspires other men, a difficulty portraying the average emotional complexity of a woman on screen, women not wanting to watch other women, men not wanting to watch women, or simply just a phenomenon weíll never understand. Regardless of the rationale behind this disparity, it is an issue worthy of exploration by credible minds; not a fucking reason the average person should go see your movie, just as the deluge of f-bombs in this letter isnít a reason for people against censorship to read it.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. See how Cinema Blend is letting me swear here? Most of the big, bad internet conglomerates would make me put little stars in place of the uís. So, I guess if you donít forward this letter to all of your friends, you must be in favor of an across the board squelching of free expression. Shame on you. Donít you know a world where artists and free thinkers arenít encouraged to express their opinions without judicial, editorial or governmental review is doomed to grow stagnated, weak and cultureless? See--two can play this game, you penny-slurping Charybdis.
ďIt's called show business for a reason. The theater owners want to make money, and understandably so. My Life In Ruins is the highest testing movie in Fox Searchlight history so we've been given a chance. And, the theater owners said they'll keep the movie in their theaters if people go. So, women: can we speak up with our wallets?Ē
Really, Nia? You want the women of America to speak with their wallets? To show what exactly? That youíre not a one, tired ethnic-joke wonder? Wait--probably not since you cleverly made sure to include a reference to Greek food. ďbetter than the sound of potatoes being dipped into a fryer. (Almost)Ē Haha. Thatís so cute how you included ďalmostĒ in parenthesis so people would insinuate you like making movies but wouldnít choose the business over your family or the culture you grew up in. Letís have a big group hug. Inside the theater, of course though, since youíd clearly want to mix warmth with ticket sales.
Let me clear a few things up. Youíre not Meryl Streep or Judi Dench or even Julia Roberts. Youíre not a particularly exciting actress or a groundbreaking comedienne. My Big Fat Greek Wedding was the pogs of 2002, the Tamagotchi, the pet rock of brief relevancy. Your seven years later follow-up isnít a seismograph to decide whether women will support themselves on film.
The Rotten Tomatoes rating for My Life In Ruins: 13%. Thatís lower than Dance Flick. How exactly did you think attendance for a film savaged by almost nine out of ten critics would tell movie producers anything? But thatís right. Your piece of shit film was the highest testing movie in Fox Searchlight history. Must have been the same audience members who liked Obsessed, a horrible, idea-less disaster you cited in your op-ed as an indicator female-lead movies could succeed.
I donít know why you wrote this editorial, Nia. Youíre either the girl who laughs at jokes which arenít funny to get a dinner paid for or a misguided idiot who canít see the a tree through the forest, the forest itself, or anything beyond your own big fat Greek ass. Next time think before opening your fucking mouth.
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