It’s Graduation! Or at least the run-up to it. I watched this episode with mixed emotions. I was frustrated that Kyle and Tyla weren’t there – especially when Kyle admitted he wished he’d stayed.
It was a hell of a week on Dream School. When this whole project started, I wondered if all the kids would stick with it – or what would happen if things hit the skids. And this week, we found out. Kyle opted to leave in the most infuriating, sad way – walking out because he didn’t want to deal with his self-admitted anger management issue. But what killed me was his Dad let him. The dad – a former Marine – is so wracked with guilt over the issues Kyle and his brother Sean have due to their parents’ divorce, he kowtows to Kyle… when what Kyle really needs is a good kick in the pants. Or an actual Marine.
After watching this episode, I felt like I just needed to take a hot second and love on Mary. While I like all the kids, Mary I love.
For the past three episodes we’ve seen someone like Kyle – who got kicked out of several schools, the last of which for punching a principal – give up at the drop of a hat. In this episode he comes to school hungover and admits to smoking something, which I suspect is weed. He fools around in class, doesn’t pay attention, and then blows up if anyone objects. As the head teacher, Scott, notes: Kyle is his own problem.
This episode starts on a low note. The grades are posted from the students’ first test – and almost everyone’s failed.
A moment later, Ellie says, “People said I was stupid… I started believing it. I started becoming it.”
In Episode One, almost every kid in the school said they didn’t study or that they didn’t care – in effect striving for failure… to be the person that they think everyone thinks they are.
They were reaffirming themselves as stereotypical dropouts. Ironic as Soledad O’Brien, their teacher this week, immediately digs into the question of, what do people assume about you when they look at you? And then she asks, “who are you really?” – and the answers are diametrically different from the previous ones.
There always comes a time in an interviewer’s piece when she realizes, “Dangit – that was good. But It just doesn’t fit…” And with the Push Girls there’s always more good stuff. So we decided to give you a bonus chapter if you will – full of fun facts and random answers to questions that may or may not have even been (verbally) asked.
Let’s not muck around, shall we? No one wants a little Lord Fauntleroy in the sack, gingerly prancing about. Remember, just because a Push Girl can’t walk doesn’t mean she’s a flimsy little flower.
“Most guys who are with us for the first time don’t want to ‘break’ us again, so they’re really delicate,” says Auti, rolling her eyes. “They think we’re fragile – so we have to be like, ‘No, dude – watch what I can do,’ and then they’re like, ‘Oh, okay. I got it from here.’”
From left to right: Josh Sapan (Rainbow Media), Martin Katz (Prospero Pictures), Lynne Kirby (Sundance Channel), Sir Elton John, Evan Shapiro (IFC/SUN), Mala Chapple (Sundance Channel) Sarah Barnett (Sundance Channel) and David Furnish.
I usually have a rule: If you love someone’s work NEVER meet them. Seriously – I’ve suffered too many disappointments over the years. And really – if you know someone’s a walking septic tank – how can you enjoy their work afterwards? It’s like Pearl Cleage wrote in Mad At Miles, “How can you celebrate a genius in the face of a monster?” But this week has proven the rule wrong. Twice. First Danny, now Elton John.
Last night, Rainbow Media and the Sundance Channel held a big dinner at the Stein Erickson Lodge and my Tiny Dancer was there (he executive produced SPECTACLE ELVIS COSTELLO WITH… along with David Furnish) with hubby David Furnish – who once came to my 30th birthday party with Cornelia Guest at the Sunset Tower. He didn’t remember, but who cares? I got the pics to prove it!
La Pieta is in Park City, sort of (replica)
I’m gonna take a break from the booze, the nightlife and the parties for a second an delve into the world of Sundance Film Festival Art. Because it’s just that spectacular.
The Sundance Film Festival attracts the most random things. Beyond the psychotic gifting suites, the MySpace lounges, the Bing Bar and the Music café (which, by the way, may have nothing to do with movies but has had an INSANE roster of people playing including the Fray, Leeann Rimes, Joey+Rory, Lady Antebellum, etc.) – the randomest of the all prize goes to the “Have You Seen Michelango’s La Pieta?” exhibit (and let’s use that term loosely) at the Caledonian Hotel.
Paula Froelich and Celine Rattray, producer of THE ROMANTICS
Is it terribly wrong that I find Lyle Lovett insanely awesome and hot? So the other night I finally got to hang with my pal Celine Rattray, who produced THE ROMANTICS and another flick here. Fun Fact: Celine started her career at HBO and then started Plum Pictures with her pal Gault Niederhoffer (whose daddy Jimmy was in foreign exchange and blew up the Thai Baht in the 90’s) and other friend Daniella – they kicked ass and now Celine is leaving to partner with Peter Fricking Guber. I mean – that’s amazing. (Gault will focus on directing now and not sure what Daniella is doing. I mean – I don’t even know her last name, so…). Celine always makes me feel like I need to revise my 5 year plan. (which currently consists of curing Karl Froelich the wonder dachshund of his grudge-pooping habit, nursing my liver back to life and trying to avoid turning into a complete stereotype).
So Celine and I decide to catch up, get a drink before hitting the Variety party at the St. Regis at Deer Valley.
Paula Froelich and Utah Trannies in Park City to support 8: THE MORMON PROPOSITION
I feel like a gang of roudy elephants held a party in my head last night and forgot to clean up. Some musings after the jump…
From Left to Right: Fisher Stevens, Danny McBride and Jon Gosselin Sundance is getting more surreal by the day. Or I should say night. Last night involved Danny McBride and his band of North Carolina brothers, Fisher Stevens, a bad basketball game, a choking man, a quart of booze, two feet of snow and a…
Repeat after me: no good happens after 1 a.m. WHEN WILL I LEARN??? I pinched a nerve so badly I can’t turn my neck. At all. I look like one of those freaky wooden dolls where you push a lever and their bodies and necks turn with their heads while the lips move. I am creeping myself out. That and I have a zit. Which pisses me off as my mother told me when I was 14 that I’d stop getting zits when I turned 18. But then again she also told me I could get pregnant by sitting on an unprotected toilet seat, so there you go.
Still from HOWL.
So, I’m doing my schedule for this week and at one point I was wondering if Sundance was a film or a music festival. Seriously. ASCAP has a music series with LeeAnn Rimes, Joey + Rory and the Fray, along with like 20 others. Lyle Lovett is here, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, John Legend, you name it. And I am in heaven.
The festival has finally started – slowly. By tomorrow you wont even be able to walk down Main Street without thinking horrible, dark thoughts about the couple in front of you who insists on strolling slowly down the narrow sidewalks, holding hands – and therefore holding up the foot traffic for miles. And the weather ain’t helping. Eight inches of snow dropped last night and they are expecting at least another six more tonight. Thank God for waterproof boots! Although, the amount of high heeled snow boots I’ve seen already is astonishing. I mean, seriously? Who the hell wants to be sexy at Sundance? It’s like picking up someone on the treadmill. Yech.
Main Street in Park City, UT during the Sundance Film Festival.
I have two words for you: Lyle Lovett. My Mason-Dixon reared soul is all a flutter over this year’s Sundance Film Festival.
I will be honest: I haven’t gone to Sundance in four years. I used to cover it when I was the deputy editor for Page Six at the New York Post. For a gossip columnist, it was like shooting ducks in a barrel. Celebrities abounded, bad behavior – thanks to alcohol consumption, high altitudes and a distinct lack of spousal companionship – was everywhere, and I was in heaven. I would see some great movies, interview some actors, and then go to premiere and agency parties, collecting information all along the way. It was fun and I got some good work done.
Thank God Park City is too cold for PETA protesters. (Seriously – you ever notice how PETA works out of kind of cold places like NYC or not so cold places like LA, but they leave Chicago and Utah alone?). In preparation for Sundance, I went on weather.com and almost cried for my imaginary abuelita when it informed me that this year’s festivities fall directly in line with a snowstorm.
There are only two things I know for sure — it’s social death to wear white after Labor Day and no one should ever attempt to recreate the legendary Algonquin Round Table.
I recently found out the latter when I was asked to join a panel trying to attain just that vainglorious feat. It was the 90th anniversary of the “vicious circle” consisting of Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley, Alexander Woollcott, and company—writers and actors who on a daily basis throughout the 1920s had bon mots for lunch and each other for dessert. These people put the “it” in witty–and they wanted little old me from south Brooklyn to recreate their legend?