"Coyote
Ugly" is so ridiculously unrealistic in its portrayal of the music business,
New York life and bar work that it should've been made as a cartoon instead of
a live-action film. We know, we know — it's not supposed to be realistic. But
honestly, if Violet would've had a talking cockroach (in her "dive" NYC
apartment that everyone we know in the city would give their front teeth to
have) giving her career advice, this movie wouldn't have had any less
verisimilitude. Then there's "Glitter," 2001's Mariah Carey vehicle (let's
call it an SUV with a loose axle). Set in the early '80s, the movie tells of
the rise of Billie Frank, a backup singer who is discovered by a DJ and rises
to the top of the charts. Savaged by critics, a dud at the box office,
"Glitter" (like "Showgirls" and "Can't Stop the Music") makes you wonder if
those responsible didn't know from the green light that they were making the
kind of stink bomb that can only find success as an unintended cult
experience. Biographical looks at real musicians — think "Selena," "Coal
Miner's Daughter," "The Doors," "Sid and Nancy," "Bird," "What's Love Got to
Do With It" and even "Amadeus" — tend to be a little grittier than the purely
fictional fantasies that screenwriters concoct. Still, it's easy to imagine
Hollywood producers suggesting that maybe Patsy Cline's plane ought to miss
the mountain in "Sweet Dreams." Music certainly isn't the only road to fame,
but to listen to Tinseltown tell the tale, you'd think dancing was just as
much a rocket to riches. "Flashdance" (1983) is to modern dance movies what
"2001: A Space Odyssey" was to sci-fi and "Babe" was to films about pork. Set
in clanky Pittsburgh, the film tells the
intentionally-torn-rags-to-more-upscale-rags tale of welder/exotic dancer (not
at the same time) Alex Owens (Jennifer Beals), who yearns to get into ballet
school. But her wild and crazy ways are not appreciated by the stodgy
admissions board — at first! Remembered mostly for its soundtrack and for
Jennifer Beals' bra-removal technique, "Flashdance" has nonetheless become one
of the most iconic films of the 1980s. One of the first movies to take its
visual style from music videos, it's influenced every dance film from "Save
the Last Dance" to "Dance With Me," "Strictly Ballroom" and "Center Stage."
And then there is the silver screen, the most coveted and elusive branch of
fame. The tale of the aspiring starlet has been told a zillion times, from "A
Star Is Born" to "Waiting for Guffman," but maybe never more surrealistically
than in David Lynch’s "Mulholland Dr." (2001). The aborted
TV-series-turned-film is the twisted fairy tale of innocent ingénue Betty Elms
(Naomi Watts), fresh off the bus and wide-eyed to the glitz of Tinseltown
until she becomes intertwined with glamorous amnesiac Rita (Laura Harring).
Extreme identity crises mirror the insecurity and extreme narcissism that
define the drive for fame. We side with those inclined to believe that much of
what David Lynch puts onscreen is surrealism for its own sake, so to put too
much effort into figuring it out is a waste of time. But this movie is rife
with powerful metaphors for the blows to self-esteem incurred by becoming an
actress (or rather, trying to become an actress). Come to think of it, maybe
instead of banning "Fame" (since we're really not in favor of censorship), we
should just make "Mulholland Dr." mandatory post-"Fame" viewing. But isn't it
kind of sad that most of these movies aren't so much about a passion for
creativity as they are a drive for celebrity? While some indie films like
"Shine" and Woody Allen's "Sweet and Lowdown" may trumpet the artistic spirit,
tales of hard-working artists who pay their dues and slowly build careers
don't pack the crowd-pleasing wallop of the rocket ride to superstardom.
Still, wouldn't it be nice to see a dramatization of Neko Case's career
instead of Mariah Carey's? A little integrity can be inspiring, too.-