Paul O'Donnell: February 2007 Archives

Jennifer Hudson's Oscar win was everything we tune in for: a handsome leading man (George Clooney) welcoming a young actress to the Hollywood fold and a teary speech punctuated by gasps of gratitude and sheer terror (and featuring a grandmother). Another beauty of the moment was the lack of mention of Hudson's race: In recent years, wins by Denzel Washington, Jamie Foxx, and Hallie Berry have celebrated, rightfully, the emergence of great roles and corresponding awards for African-American actors. With Forest Whitaker, Will Smith, Eddie Murphy, and Hudson all up for Oscars, one couldn't be race-blind at this year's ceremony ("It's a wonderful year to be an African-American actor," Beyonce Knowles said on her way into the Kodak Theater). But both Hudson and Whitaker accepted their awards without calling attention to the color of their skin.

Except, of course, in her simple statement, "Here's what God can do." It's hard to imagine a Caucasian performer leading with this in their acceptance speech. As in pop music, where Aretha Franklin can sing at church without causing anyone to wonder about her politics, or rappers like Mos Def can proclaim their Muslim faith without it defining their, uh, profile, African-Americans bring God naturally into mainstream events, without risking their popularity. Why? I've often thrown this question out to black and white performers alike, and few even attempt an answer.

Hudson's easy touch with Godtalk also allowed her to slip effortlessly out of a ridiculous exchange with E! reporter Ted Casablanca. Pressed by Casablanca for a few words of advice for fellow pop diva Britney Spears, Hudson said, "All I can do is pray for Britney." Amen.

Business is booming at Body and Soul, the tattoo parlor where Britney Spears stopped on her much-reported breakdown last weekend, according to celeb tracker andPOP. Tattoo artist Max Scott says he expects many of the new bookings will be asking for the cross the shop put on Britney's hip.

That Britney's lost weekend would result in a proliferation of cross tattoos is another strange spiritual note in her recent slide. Never mind the shaved head that made her look like a novice nun in the wilds of the San Fernando Valley, or the Manichean name of her tattoo parlor of choice. The star began her tear by shaving her head at Esther's Hair Salon, named for owner Esther Tognozzi, but resonant for anyone familiar with Britney's spiritual journey (see Holly Rossi's informative post below): the biblical heroine Esther is the spiritual alter ego of Madonna, who is said to have introduced Britney to the Jewish mysticism of kabbalah.

The press this week about Britney Spears has centered on a single puzzle--what's going through that newly bald head? For a while, Britney's life has been "The Truman Show" meets "Real World." In the past week, reports from the disaster-in-progess have come so frequently we seem to be watching in real-time. The few remaining gaps in the news cycle only give the car-wreck that authentic slo-mo feel. Late-night talk show host Craig Ferguson punctuated her most recent slide when he swore off the Britney jokes because he didn't want to pick on someone who is so vulnerable.

The question is, when did Britney become so vulnerable? Not last weekend, when she buzzed off her hair in a San Fernando Valley hair salon, then went for a couple of new tattoos. Only Americans, it seems, can repeatedly be shocked when a child star--who, after all, has everything we'd need to be happy, right?--makes a bumpy transition to adulthood. None of us are responsible for what's happened to Britney--or Judy Garland, Liz Taylor, or lesser lights like the now cleaned-up and Oscar-nominated Jackie Earle Haley. But maybe the Craig Fergusons of the world could clue in earlier when the next generation of wealthy, wattage-weary teenagers begin their swoon.

Redemption appeared to be the theme of the night at the Grammys, from the Dixie Chicks' triumphs to Mary J. Blige's gracious acceptance speech to Carrie Underwood's win for the spiritual surrender anthem, "Jesus Take the Wheel."

Not everyone handled their redemption with grace. After the Dixie Chicks took their first Grammy--for best country vocal performance by a duo or group--it seemed clear that record-industry voters, if not all country fans, had sided with the Chicks in their red-state/blue state set-to over their comments about the Iraq War. By the time they won their second award--for country album--it was clear Chicks' lead singer Natalie Maines was ready to gloat. "To quote 'The Simpsons,' 'Heh, heh'," sneered Maines in accepting the Grammy.

It took her bandmate Martie Maguire to thank the fans who had stuck with them, and allude to the fact that their best-country album honors had come from liberal industry folk, not Nashville proper. "It's a very strange place to be sometimes... without a genre necessarily," said Maguire.

Maines later chimed, "I'm ready to make nice!" and called herself "humbled" by the group's Record of the Year award, but it was literally too late--only the die-hard Red Hot Chili Pepper fans were waiting up to see their guys perform by that point in the over-long show--and too political. I don't begruge Maines her freedom to speak. Anyone with a microphone that big has the duty to speak truth to power. But if you're going to be a protest rocker, Natalie, be cool. Take your redemption, such as it was, as a gift, instead of sounding like a member of the newly ascendant congressional Democrats.

Underwood put a point on Maines's chatter when she accepted her second Grammy, for best New Artist, immediately following the Chicks' second appearance. She began, "I love country music, first of all." How nice was that?

Ladies and gentlemen, Daniel Radcliffe will take his clothes off onstage when the play he's starring in opens in London later this month. So who cares? Ladies and gentlemen, Daniel Radcliffe also plays Harry Potter in the Warner Bros. film series based on the J.K. Rowling novels.

Since his casting was announced, parents have funnelled their anguish in emails to the many Potter fansites, complaining mostly that he's a role model for their children. The controversy boiled anew this week when publicity photos were released showing Radcliffe in sexy poses with a horse and his co-star Joanne Christie.

Sexy as the photos may be, it's not as if Radcliffe is making pornos. The play, "Equus," is a time-honored and much revered (not to say a tad outdated) standard in the English theatrical repertoire that concerns a mentally disturbed teen who badly mixes up his love for horses and his lust for women. The young actor playing the boy has taken takes his clothes off since Peter Firth debuted the role in 1973.

But even if Radcliffe were doing something dirtier, isn't it the parents' responsibility to keep their kids away from objectionable material, or even adult material like "Equus," not Radcliffe's? "We are very disappointed and will avoid the future movies he makes," wrote one parent about the nude scenes. Fine, but couldn't you simply avoid West End plays intended for grownups?