toni toni toni

Thanks to The United States of Tara, I start each week with thoughts of Toni Collette. What is it about her? I mean, yeah, I know what it is — she's gifted, she's gorgeous, she's hilarious — but there's something extra going on. Allow me to ponder the evidence for a moment.

I first saw her in Muriel's Wedding. This movie is one of my faves (laughter, tears, Toni AND the very sexy Rachel Griffiths?! Yes, please!), and it's a perfect example of the way Toni can keep you in stitches while tugging at your heartstrings. And the "Waterloo" scene is a surefire remedy for a bad day.

Next came Cosi and Emma, and the excellent Clockwatchers and Velvet Goldmine. She was the darling of indie films when "indie" still meant something.

Then, of course, she "made it big" in The Sixth Sense, and in many other fairly small but very memorable roles in big-budget movies. And then she really hit the jackpot: The Hours. Oh, how I love this film. (I think my main reason for writing this post was to watch the Toni-Julianne kiss another dozen times — and I'll replace this clip with a better one later so you can get the full effect!)

And then she found the perfect amalgam of everything indie and everything big: Little Miss Sunshine.

She even made parts of Evening tolerable. And that's just a sampling of her career, of course. But let's get back to her current project, The United States of Tara (my new Sunday night addiction). Creator Diablo Cody knows what she's doing: the story lines are fascinating, the cast is exceptional (more on Rosemarie DeWitt later this week), and Toni is breathtaking in every way — from her sculpted physique to her finely honed acting chops.

Playing a woman with dissociative identity disorder means playing a lot of characters — sometimes four different characters in the same 30-minute episode. When Tara "transitions" to a different identity, I feel like I'm about to plunge down a hill on a roller coaster. Toni's eyes flutter closed, her face goes blank, and it's clear that something incredible is going to happen. (Hmm, that sounds sorta like a different event, doesn't it? Ahem.)

I don't know how she does it week after week — bringing to life not one character but five, one of which (Gimme) is little more than a bundle of primal instincts. And one of which is a man. Yeah, Buck is a redneck and kind of a jerk, but I still find it sexy when Toni gets her swagger on.

And isn't it amazing that she's able to make Alice (a '50s housewife) so very different from the similar character she played in The Hours?

Somehow, she makes each identity a full character, while also making it clear that the character is just a part of Tara — who's way more interesting despite being less "colorful." In every episode, there's so much going on in Toni's eyes, her body language, her voice ... I don't know what to pay attention to. So I just let myself get caught up in all of her.

I guess that's the "extra" thing she offers: depth. Funny is sexy, smart is sexy, and talented is sexy — and all of them at once? As they might say on SNL, "Please, my little friend, it's too sexy! Too sexy!"

So this week, I'm just going to continue to revel in the Toni-ness, and ignore the news that Tara's showrunner has quit. It may mean nothing, and as the Tara theme song says, we'll be just fine if we learn to love the ride.

Natasha Richardson, 1963-2009

Almost exactly two years ago, I was in the front row for a performance of The Year of Magical Thinking, a one-woman show starring Vanessa Redgrave and capturing Joan Didion's experiences and emotions after the loss of her husband and daughter.


Redgrave was, as always, luminous and intense. She's a true theater actor who connects with the audience directly: by holding individual gazes, by talking to (not over) the faces before her, by inviting you — pleading with you — to feel what she is feeling, not as a spectator but as a witness.

Her eyes landed on mine at one point, and stayed there for several lines of dialogue. I felt a jolt of energy, almost a kind of fright. I lost track of the words she was speaking, but their meaning was indelibly imparted: You think this won't happen to you, you think this will never happen to you, you think you're immune. You're not.


Despite her ability to convey that desperation and pain, Natasha Richardson's mother (which is what she really was on that stage — not Vanessa Redgrave, not Joan Didion, but Joely and Natasha's mum) may herself have thought or hoped she was immune and would never feel the anguish of the loss of a child. And embodying grief on the stage is nothing like getting kicked in the gut by it in real life, real death. But I think she'll be able to draw some strength from being in The Year of Magical Thinking, and from her eye-level connections to the audience. Transforming individual experience into something universal — making us all feel human and connected — is the best of what art can do. Even when the experience is the worst of what life can bring.

I can't know how it feels to be Natasha Richardson's mother or other family member or friend. All I can do is hope that they all know, somehow, that a lot of us in the "audience" are feeling the pain too. It's smaller and shallower, but it's akin: it's the loss of a part of all of us. Natasha added so much to what Meryl Streep recently called the "aggregate human attempt," and losing her (in the aggregate, in the abstract, at every level) just hurts.


I guess I'm feeling that thing people try to express with the phrase "our hearts go out to you." At least, something's gone out of my heart today.

Thank you, Natasha, for bringing your unique art and magic to the stage and screen. We miss you already.

the sun'll come out of justice scalia's ass

I'm sure that's not her. But what if it is? Does Andrea McArdle, aka the original Annie, spend her free time reading Supreme Court opinions?


Someone who goes by that name asked NYT reporter Linda Greenhouse a question about the readability of Supreme Court opinions.

Yeah, it's probably not her. But if it is her, she is officially soooooo hot.

 

supreme beings of mode magazine

I love the Supreme Beings of Leisure. I have been listening to their latest album, 11i, all week. I'd forgotten how awesome they are (and yes, they still sound like an episode of Alias, but is that a bad thing?).


But today my ears have been pricked by something startling: I have realized that lead Supreme Being singer Geri Soriano sounds like Vanessa Williams. Now all I can think about is that "Flying" train wreck from this year's TV Land Awards (which, btw, what are those awards about, exactly, other than a rather morbid brand of nostalgia?).

Get off my groove, Wilhelmina!

Supreme Being Geri even sorta looks like Willie, doesn't she? A teensy bit.

Geri. Great, now I'm thinking of Cousin Geri from The Facts of Life. Save me from this pop-culture-association spiral.

At least nothing can sully that phenomenal bass line on SBL's "This World." Or the general brilliance of "Strangelove Addiction," from their eponymous debut album: