May 12, 2005
Good Cop, Bad Cop: Wherein Josh Jabcuga dogs some recent comments made by Harvey Keitel, and cops out to his own latest addiction, the A&E Channel’s reality show Intervention.
“Are you going to let your six-month-old son play with the action figure of your Reservoir Dogs character, or do the two guns that are included make it too violent?”
I objected to the guns, but the power of the dollar is more powerful than me.
“But what about all those gun-toting miscreants you’ve played?”
I will not sign pictures of me holding a gun. If you saw one, it was from a long time ago.
Harvey Keitel, being interviewed by Jason Matloff, from the article “Who’s afraid of Harvey Keitel,” published in the March 2005 issue of Premiere magazine.
Red Dragon. Cop Land. City of Industry. From Dusk Till Dawn. Clockers. Pulp Fiction. Bad Lieutenant. Reservoir Dogs. Bugsy. Mother, Jugs, & Speed. Taxi Driver. Mean Streets.
Do I have to continue? Isn’t this the same actor that played a character who was a crackhead cop in Abel Ferarra’s Bad Lieutenant? The same role that required Keitel’s corrupt-cop-seeking-redemption lead to jerk off in some girl’s face after forcing her to pull her car over to the side of the road in the name of official police business? And he’s embarrassed about autographing a few photos?
To quote Keitel’s Mr. White in Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs, “You shoot me in a dream, you’d better wake up and apologize.” Is that all this was, Harvey, a dream, because I’m having trouble following you on this one. How can an actor give an audience so many great performances, own so many violent roles, yet be able to deny the fact that any of it existed? Essentially, that’s what you’re doing, you’re denying any of your past work by not supplying your signature to photos showing yourself holding a gun. I know there are celebrities out there who refuse to sign any autographs period, and while that may be for entirely selfish or even personal reasons, the public has to respect those wishes. But to pick and choose, to sign some photos of yourself, but not others…well now I’m just plain confused. For those of us that can’t put two and two together, you did the math for us, or at least your financial advisors and personal assistants and agents and manager did: it’s the sum total of the almighty dollar, as you stated yourself.
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Maybe that’s why it’s called acting. Perhaps that’s why the audience is never supposed to believe in what they see on the silver screen, no matter how real it may seem, because it’s all a lie, it’s all a big act, a con, it’s make-believe. Suddenly you’re not proud of your work though, is that it? You’re embarrassed of past roles? You don’t think your fans can distinguish the real you from the you they see on the big screen? That would make you nothing more than a glorified song-and-dance-man, Mr. Keitel, would it not? Furthermore, what’s with this revisionist history plaguing Hollywood? Should we thank Lucas and Spielberg for that one, those fat cats licking their chops, too stuffed to remember how they were able to pay for that meal in the first place.
But Harvey, oh, Harvey, maybe you are the sleeping dog that’d better wake up and apologize. After reading your interview in Premier magazine, how could anyone take your act seriously? (Okay, you were in Sister Act with Whoopi Goldberg, but let’s just keep that one out of the equation, our little secret.)
I have nothing wrong with sell-outs, since, hey, a fella’s gotta make a living somehow. I can even go so far as to understand why you may not want to license your likeness to a toy company that manufactures action figures that come boxed with something promoting violence, like, say...a toy made to resemble you holding two guns (although to be honest, it’s no revelation that only parents reserve the right to censor their own children, and anyone else can butt out. While I don’t know too many kids in the preteen set who would be well versed in Tarantino’s-see-and-say sadism, somebody out there has to be shelling out the cash to buy these suckers. My suspicion is that the “toys” were marketed toward the 18-34-year-olds demographics. (I picked up the Michael Madsen “Mr. Blonde” figure myself…”twenty points of attitude articulation” as the box reads, and “authentic movie accessories” such as a gun and the infamous ear-slicing switchblade. Now that’s a cool friggin’ toy I wish I had as a kid.)
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Harvey, your action figure from the Reservoir Dogs line does, in fact, include guns. (Unlike the Tim Roth action figure where the guns are conspicuously absent. Guess not everybody could sell out to the almighty dollar.) If you had no problem signing that check from the toy company for your royalties, why the problem with lending your John Hancock to an 8 by 10 glossy of yourself playing a character with a gun from one of your movies? Last time I checked there was a reason why it was called acting. And those who perform such skills in public displays for a paying audience (or even for free, and even those who are simply practicing in front of a mirror sans audience) are called actors. Thespians. Movie stars. Highly compensated liars. And now, perhaps you can add hypocrite to that list.
It’s really no big deal. Plenty of actors sell their likenesses for an extra dime, small compensation to augment their income and, er, vices. So what if their mug is plastered on a, uh, coffee mug? So what if their likeness can be found on everything from mousepads to t-shirts? It doesn’t make them any less of an actor, regardless of what Sean Penn tells you. If your fans want it, if you’re cool with it, then go for it. But if you’re going to sell out, man, the least you can do is own up to it, that’s all I ask.
Harvey, why don’t you grow a set of globes, ‘cause if it’s bullshit you’re selling, you’re no longer a thespian making art. You’re simply a brand name in the business of selling toys. Now shut up and sign the damn photos.
Feel Good Hit of the Season
“Nicotine, Valium, Vicodin, marijuana, ecstasy and alcohol.
Co-co-co-cocaine.”
Contrary to popular belief, none of the above played a factor in my activities from last weekend. The closest that I came to an unnatural buzz were the two consecutive Diet Vanilla Cokes that I guzzled down while watching a DVD on Friday night. Now that’s life on the edge, lemme tell ya. “Nicotine, Valium, Vicodin, marijuana, ecstasy and alcohol…co-co-co-cocaine” are the complete lyrics to the song “Feel Good Hit of the Summer” by Queens of the Stone Age.
They’re also a few of the things you’ll see on A&E’s highly addictive reality show, “Intervention.”
Now, before you get all, “Oh boy, not another reality show” on me, shut up and take a chill pill, if you will. I’m not a big TV watcher. I view a ton of DVDs using my television, sure, but to say I actually tune in week-in and week-out for a regularly scheduled show, well, those are few and far between. The last time television got me to sit through all those damn commercials was ABC’s “Lost,” the perfect blend of Twilight Zone-genre style writing and superb acting. It’s also the perfect antidote for all those damned reality shows that seem to make up about 90% of the big three’s rosters (NBC, CBS, ABC, and okay, make that the “big four,” counting Fox. And if you’ve read Moviepoopshoot.com’s Editor-in-chief Chris Ryall’s recent ranting over the cancellation of Arrested Development, along with his disdain for Fox’s The Family Guy, the executives there at Fox must have been on nicotine, Valium, Vicodin, marijuana, ecstasy, alcohol, and co-co-co-cocaine to behave so, okay let’s just say it, fucked up in their decision making. Me? I’m over it; I knew Fox consisted of a bunch of crackwhores when they axed Futurama after just four seasons. What are you? High?)
We all know that reality shows have overstayed their welcome. Their half life should be out of everyone’s system by now, but when I turn on the TV, I still see Paris Hiltons (nice to look at, but that’s all folks) and SuperNannies and Donald Trumps and everything else that claims to be reality yet is closer to something Rod Serling might have imagined back in the day than the kind of reality I’m familiar with. What does it say about our culture when pro wrestling is just about the most realistic show on television these days, and the evening news consists of more pure fiction for the dollar than the afternoon soaps?
So reality TV has jumped the shark so many times that they are now making a reality show about TV executives jumping sharks, literally. (Rumor has it that upon hearing this, another rival network, both whom shall remain nameless, is upping the ante by producing a show about sharks jumping the TV executives who are jumping sharks.) Well, you get the point. Even the phrase itself, “jumping the shark,” has overstayed its welcome.
And if you’re unfamiliar with the phrase, check out the episode of Happy Days when the Fonz literally jumps a shark on his water skis, all the while wearing his trusty leather jacket. Television historians and other people with no lives claim this is the point when Happy Days reached its lowest point, and have since used the phrase “jumping the shark” when referring to pivotal points in other TV series’ histories where the shows cease to be original. Looking inward, actually, when I look in the mirror every morning after shaving and slapping on some hair gel, I ask myself, “Has my own life jumped the shark?” But let’s save that for next week’s scheduled fifty-minute-hour at the shrink’s office, shall we?
Or not. You see, maybe your life, like mine, isn’t so messed up after all. Just turn on A&E at 10pm on Sunday nights for my second favorite television show, a reality show, nonetheless, called Intervention (second only to ABC’s Lost, of course).
A friend of mine once observed that there’s something reassuring about watching train wrecks, when you’re not on board yourself. Pretty callous, but dead-on.
A&E’s Intervention is a take-no-prisoners, balls-to-the-wall television experience. Oh, and I did mention that the show is highly addictive, right? Think of it as an after school special, as directed by Boogie Nights’ maverick writer/director Paul T. Anderson or Happiness helmer Todd Solondz. Watching an episode leaves you feeling dirty. It makes you squirm in your seat. It makes you feel as if someone ripped out your heart and stepped on it like an empty juicebox. But you can’t turn away. Somehow, you leave feeling as if you’ve just had a cathartic experience, or maybe even a really bad trip.
So what is Intervention about anyhow? “Interventions” you say. No shit Sherlock! The basic premise for the show is addicts of various substances and otherwise unhealthy behavior or habits are led to believe they are being filmed for a documentary show about, you guessed it, addictions. What they don’t know is they are about to face an intervention staged by their family and friends, or so the show’s tagline reads.
Sure, the show is exploitative (what isn’t these days?). But it’s exploitative in a good way, in the kind of way where you say to yourself, “Whoa, I need to show this to my niece or nephew or son or daughter” or whomever you care for that may be at an impressionable age (which doesn’t necessarily mean that an impressionable age has to be under the age of thirteen; there are many people who don’t begin using drugs until their twenties or later, as the show documents).
Not that we condone drug use here at the site, but Intervention is not about the person who drinks the occasional six pack or takes a hit from a joint once in a blue moon. No, these abusers on the show are hardcore; they’re out of control and in dire need of immediate attention and support. And it makes for damn fine captivating television.
The producers of the show and the A&E Channel deserve mad props for their unflinching yet still somehow tasteful look at drug addiction (or even compulsive, addictive behavior like gambling or video games. Yes, video games. One recent episode featured someone hooked on video games! And no, the show has not jumped the shark with that episode).
From the episodes that I’ve seen, Crystal Methadone is all the rage these days. The producers of the show seem big on spotlighting that, since more than one episode has featured a meth addict. One sad story involved a twenty-something gay male model who was hooked on Meth. Apparently the Meth made him horny whenever he was high, because he then became addicted to calling those #900 number date lines. This poor guy would use Meth, then start hooking up with random people to abate his, uh, sexual drive. He claimed to have slept with over five hundred partners and only used protection twice! It was fairly jarring material, and to A&E’s credit, they didn’t shy away from much. Maybe a lot more than I expected to see, or wanted to see, but I suppose anything less would have come off as watered down and then, what’s the point? Luckily, this young man had friends and family that cared enough for him to stage an intervention and get him on the road to recovery.
Another fascinating and deeply moving episode involved a young lady who was a self-mutilator, or “cutter.” Her arms carried so many scars that she had to use make-up on them. At one point, she is shown etching a pyramid into her very own skin, just above the pubic region, with a razor blade.
And perhaps the best episode, if you’re looking for sheer train-wreck-spotting, is the story of the boy prodigy who grew up to become a maladjusted misfit, and felt compelled to gamble every last penny (even his own family’s money) at the local casinos. He’s seen arguing with his mother, insisting that she provide him access to funds so he can continue to feed his addiction to gambling. At one point, he’s literally jumping up and down in public throwing a temper tantrum like a three-year-old child amped up on a case of Twinkies, denying he needs help, even though he’s in debt by literally hundreds of thousands of dollars.
A&E’s Intervention is reality, after all, which means that not every episode ends with a happy ending, nor are all loose ends tied up. That’s a lot more than can be said about most TV shows, reality or scripted (or even, for that matter, movies, since the demise of fatalism in Hollywood in the 70s).
Of the episodes that I have seen since stumbling across the show, I’ve seen everything featured from meth, gambling, coke, videogame playing, gambling, self-mutilation, and sex addicts. Not your typical Sunday night stew.
I’m not sure of A&E’s plans and where they plan on going from here, if anywhere. I hope there will be a second season. I also want them to toss in some curveballs: maybe huffers with their gasoline-soaked rags, plastic surgery addicts, religious fanatics (I’m so of the belief that religion can be an addiction, but that one’s a fine line), soap opera junkies (or substitute that with reality show junkies), and lastly, rock star groupies (like those people that used to follow around the Grateful Dead and then Phish and now the Dave Matthews Band…tell me that isn’t some kind of addiction).
To paraphrase that golden oldie of clichés, A&E’s Intervention is the most fun you can have without being arrested. I know I’m hooked on it, that’s fo’ damn sure. And maybe, just maybe, the show will save a few people. At the very least it’ll save a few people from wasting an hour of their lives watching bad television, like say a block of Fox’s The Family Guy and American Dad.
Praise for the writing of Josh Jabcuga, who pens Squib Central with ink made from his own blood, published every Thursday, exclusively at www.moviepoopshoot.com:
"You’re a bad influence on them, I’ll tell you right now." -Max Cavalera, lead singer of Soulfly, former lead singer of Brazilian death metal icons Sepultura.
I read your article and you my dear are a true
ASSHOLE!!! Wonder how you landed your job, desperation???"-Angie (last name unknown; article mentioned...unknown).
“Josh Jabcuga can take the 26 measly letters of our crude alphabet and capture the bi-polar soul of all that is classically yet disturbingly American. Then, when his typewriter is left to cool, he can turn right around…completely ready to trounce any drunk punk that’s got me backed into a corner.” –The Colonel J.D. Wilkes of The Legendary Shack*Shakers.
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