What a rip!

I’ve always been amused by rip-offs. In a popular culture filled with derivative crap, these are some of the most blatant examples—and sometimes the most perversely enjoyable, for their sheer “oh no they didn’t!” awfulness. The first rip-off I can remember seeing was Mac and Me. For those of you unfamiliar with this little 1980s gem, its sole purpose was to promote McDonald’s… while ripping off ET. (Well, that’s not entirely true; Coca Cola backed the movie as well, so numerous references to them pop up.) A boy in a wheelchair (gag me) befriends a grotesque little lost alien and nicknames him “Mac” after his favorite Mickey D’s sandwich. (Great, as if the kid doesn’t have enough to deal with being in a wheelchair, now he’s a prime candidate for childhood obesity.) The two have adventures… or something. I honestly can’t remember a thing about this stupid movie, besides one scene with the mom getting dropped off at Sears (product placement #3!) and a later scene in which the boy’s female friend, dressed in her McDonald’s uniform, gives Mac’s dying mother a sip of Coke from a McDonald’s cup. According to IMDB, the film ends with the onscreen legend “We’ll Be Back,” but since it bombed, they, well… weren’t. What follows is my loose and by no-means-complete list of other notable rip-offs.
Battlestar Galactica—Calm down fanboys, I’m not talking about the critically acclaimed new version, which is apparently some of the most brilliant TV around. I mean the atrocious cheesefest original, which according to some was “like Star Wars every week!” even though it lacked that film series’ quality acting, writing, special effects, or anything. (Yes, there was a time when the Star Wars franchise was well written and acted.) The similarities to Star Wars were so glaring that George Lucas and co. supposedly considered taking legal action. Which is understandable, because we all know Lucas would neeeeever allow his Star Wars legacy to be tarnished.
Friday the 13th—Perhaps no horror film has inspired as many imitators as Halloween, the 1978 horror classic whose massive success ushered in a new era of “slasher films” with holiday based titles: Mother’s Day, April Fool’s Day, Happy Birthday to Me, New Year’s Evil, Graduation Day… the list went on and on. But the first was this slapdash concoction, a dull and irritating film that somehow managed to become a “classic” in its own right. Once again we’ve got killer POV shots, a mysterious stalker, and a creepy “holiday” setting, plus lots of promiscuous teens and one plucky virgin. Audiences were so starved for another Halloween that they flocked to this film, despite the fact that director Sean S. Cunningham and star Adrienne King were a far cry from John Carpenter and Jamie Lee Curtis.
Sunset Beach—Okay, I confess, I loved this show. But in the grand tradition of daytime soaps, which have ripped off everything from The Exorcist (Days of Our Lives) to the death of Princess Diana (the kooky Passions, which was forced to scrap that storyline because of the uproar it caused), this sadly short lived sudser ripped off with abandon. The two I remember the most were its aping of MonicaGate, with an intern/politician affair and prosecutor Ken LaMoon (har, har); and a Scream-ish “Terror Island” storyline, with a masked killer stalking the cast. But it didn’t stop there; in a late-in-the-game bid to jazz ratings, the show had an earthquake and a tidal wave, which capsized a cruise ship filled with characters enacting their very own Poseidon Adventure.
Dawson’s Creek—Even nighttime soaps have a tendency to rip things off, as evidenced by this teen melodrama (another favorite of mine). In Season 2, the characters enacted kinky Titanic-esque scenarios like a nude portrait session (“Except, I’m Jack and you’re Rose,” Joey remarked to not-yet-out Jack) and steamed-up car make out session. In Season 4, a dramatic Perfect Storm take-off served as a larger-than-life backdrop for the deathless Dawson/Joey/Pacey triangle (cause hell hath no fury like horny, jealous teens!) and a goofy Blair Witch episode was less than successful.
Lipstick Jungle/Cashmere Mafia—Is it possible to rip off yourself? Seems that way, given that these two Sex and the Wannabes are from Candace Bushnell and Darren Star, the minds behind the original single gals in the city series. Viewers saw through one of these duds (the cancelled Cashmere Mafia, which deserved to die for the title alone), but Lipstick Jungle is back with the beyond-bland tag line “Bright lights, big city, best friends.” Personally, I prefer Saturday Night Live’s pitch perfect parody, Lady Business: “Now that I’m here there are gonna be some changes. Meetings are no longer mandatory—they’re womandatory!” At least the creators of that sketch acknowledged just what it was they were ripping off.

Un"Forgett"able

On Friday night I caught a showing of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, the Judd Apatow-produced comedy written by and starring Jason Segel. I had a feeling the movie would be a good one, and I was right. In addition to being very, very funny, the film has a tremendous heart. It owes much of its appeal to Segel, who takes his excellent script to the next level with his brave and endearing performance. (No, he's not a conventional hottie. But after seeing Sarah Marshall, I kind of have a big crush on him. I probably won't be the only one, either.) The movie follows Segel's Peter Bretter, a television composer whose bombshell girlfriend (Kristen Bell) dumps him in the opening scene-- while he's nude. (The movie has a surprising amount of full frontal male nudity for an R rated picture. They probably get away with it because it's played for laughs.) Peter wallows in despair and meaningless one night stands (some of which are hilariously bad) before his stepbrother (Saturday Night Live's Bill Hader) convinces him to get out of his rut by taking a Hawaiian vacation. Of course, once Peter gets there he realizes this attempt to escape his ex's shadow has a fatal flaw: she's there, too, with a flamboyant Brit pop star boyfriend (Russel Brand) in tow. Luckily, an incredibly cute, charming hotel staff member named Rachel (Mila Kunis) is there to help him realize there's more to life than Sarah Marshall. But can Peter finally let go before he alienates his new flame, too? Key to any comedy's appeal is its cast, and Marshall is blessed with an impeccable ensemble. Bell is wonderful as a potentially unsympathetic character; she's able to convey her character's cold nature without dehumanizing her. Kunis is utterly charming as Rachel, a woman miles away from her bratty That '70s Show persona. She actually acts here (and while I'm sure she always could, her role on that series didn't really require her to) and helps anchor the film with her convincing presence. Brand steals the show as the wacky rocker, Aldous, who somehow manages to be both a tool and a likable fellow, after all. (Even Peter can't help liking the guy, much as he doesn't want to.) Meanwhile, Seth Rogen pops up as a dork hopelessly enamored with Aldous, and 30 Rock's Jack McBrayer plays an awkward newlywed overwhelmed by his bride's lust. Ultimately, though, the reason I loved this film was because it manages "to render love convincingly" (to steal a phrase from an old Armistead Maupin review). Segel has fantastic chemistry with Kunis, and their courtship was delightful to watch unfold. Rachel's gentle encouragement causes Peter to take chances and to begin to actualize some of his own dreams (after years of doting on his starlet significant other). The movie really hit home for me; see, I've been trying to forget my own "Sarah Marshall," and in the course of watching Peter's story I realized that as tough as it is to get over a relationship, it's absolutely necessary. Otherwise you might just miss out on the next great phase of your life. For the multi-talented Jason Segel, meanwhile, that next phase looks especially bright.

Over it

Can we please declare a moratorium on men wearing scarves indoors? The trend has gotten reeeally old. It was kind of silly to begin with; sure, guys look cute and stylish in scarves sometimes, but when they wear them inside it's so obviously affected and pretentious. I really started to get fed up with the whole thing when Vampire Weekend appeared on Saturday Night Live recently, and one of the members wore a scarf so enormous it dwarfed his body. How is this cool?! I wondered. Then, when Ashton Kutcher hosted the same show last weekend, he also wore a scarf (though mercifully not one so large). It's been pretty warm here in New York the last few weeks, so I can safely say that Ashton didn't have cause to wear a scarf that he somehow "forgot" to remove once he got inside. (As for the shirt Ashton wore, which lifted to reveal his taut stomach every time he put his arm in the air... yeah, I was fine with that.) If only I could somehow deliver the final nail in this overdone trend.