Esther Kustanowitz: August 2007 Archives

Owen Wilson, star of "The Wedding Crashers" as well as every Ben Stiller movie ever created and bona fide member of what some have dubbed "The Frat Pack," was rushed to the hospital via ambulance on Sunday. The Star and the National Enquirer, which were the first to report the story, said Wilson had cut both wrists and taken an "indeterminate amount of pills."

A Boston Globe report also mentioned that the actor was single, and proceeded to tell a story about ex-girlfriend Kate Hudson being in Boston but somehow avoiding an approaching reporter.

So welcome back to the game of celebrity hospitalization and "journalistic" speculation. Do we trust the accounts of the Star and the Enquirer, known in the past for stories of alien births and celebrity weight gains/infidelities? Are they reporting the seamy side of truth, or edging toward fiction? Was this a suicide attempt, or a grossly misinterpreted accident?

In case we don't trust the two aforementioned sources (and to be clear, I don't), we can go to more reliable outlets: The AP adds a descriptive element, saying Wilson was found "bloodied and dazed after a blow-up with a close friend."

We all have those television shows which serve us as utter escapism, which help us transcend our bodies and our daily lives. Often they even become true guilty pleasures worthy of repentance--that's how guilty and self-indulgent they are. But some of these shows also irk as they transport--they panic viewers even from within the vantage point of inspiration. And that's what the love-hate relationship is about.

It's like being in love with someone who occasionally does something really helpful, but from any outsider's perspective is otherwise destructive. Some more recent shows ("Prison Break," and "Heroes") are still growing on me, and we'll see which way they go. But here are five shows that have me so alternately jazzed and jittery that I just had to share them with you.

1. "Lost": John Locke's crisis of faith, the leadership battle between Sawyer and Jack, and burying Nikki and Paolo alive ... awesome. And then there's last season's "Doc Brown/Marty McFly" conversation of an ending ("We've got to go back to the future, Marty! I mean, Kate!"), which I alternately love (because I didn't see it coming) and hate. (no new shows until February 2008? That's just mean. Thank goodness Lostaholics at Beliefnet are taking control, and creating an online forum to talk about religious themes in the show.

In case the name wasn't a big enough tip-off, the opening of "Californication" (debuting tonight at 10:30 p.m. on Showtime)--with a most unholy visit to a church (cue the cigarette in the holy water and the hot nun) while the choral prelude to "You Can't Always Get What You Want" plays--tells you that things are about to get raunchy. And then there's the parade of undressed women.

Hank (David Duchovny) is living what should be the American dream for writers--he's had his book, "God Hates Us All," made into a (sellout) movie titled "A Crazy Little Thing Called Love." The disparity between the titles signifies the dissonance between the writer’s work and its subsequent slaughter by Hollywoood. Hank is a writer whose ego is so desperately in need of a lift that he goes to book stores to check out how many copies they have and to hang out in front of the stack until he’s recognized by reading fans. (But what author doesn’t do that these days, whether it’s visiting stores or sitting at home and Googling ourselves to see if the work is resonating and/or selling?)

Hank is a womanizer. But the only woman he really wants is his ex-wife (Natascha McElhone), who of course is unattainable because she’s due to marry someone else. The "non-couple" is trying to raise their daughter in an altercation-free environment, although Hank's promiscuity leads to a rather unorthodox experimental education for the young girl.