Californication isn’t just Sex and The City for men

Straight and/or superficial men have something to new rave about. Again.
And its not the latest issue of FHM or Maxim.
Nor is it a stolen sex video of a starlet giving the waiter a generous tip.
It’s Californication, a television show that has given the words “boob tube” a more literal interpretation.
The series — featuring the life and times of novelist Hank Moody, played by David Duchovny — offers what appears to be campy soft porn on cable, a gratuitous T&A show that is just a few shots short of an X-rating.
Of course its not for everyone.
Not especially if your idea of entertainment involves a writer who dreams about receiving oral action from a nun, accidentally sleeping with a minor, or having his young daughter stumble upon a naked girlfriend in his bedroom.
All three incidentally take place during the pilot episode, introducing audiences the world over to Moody, who, from all appearances, is a lucky bastard.
He possesses everything any man from eighteen to eighty would presume to want — a lovely, loving wife (Natascha McElhone as Karen), a cute, quirky daughter (Madeleine Martin as Rebecca), and a successful, lucrative career in the arts.
And that’s just for starters, proving once more that television shows are a fantasy and that life is unfair.
But that’s another story.
The novelist, who drives a beat-up black Porsche, also happens to be charming and good-looking, making him popular among women, including those outside his status, age range, income, citizenship, and hell, even religion.
With just a wink and a smile — and sometimes a little less than that — every other hottie (or cougar, as the case may be) drops their panties faster than anyone can say vajayjay.
And that’s when the good parts, voyeuristically speaking, begin.
Moody, the babe magnet, hooks up with Jackie, a stripper and college student, played by Eva Amurri, who is unafraid to show off her upper body advantages.
Same goes for Madeleine Zima.
As Mia, Moody’s ex-wife’s stepdaughter, Zima refuses to be outdone, proving that she is as privileged as anyone else to offer her puppies up for public scrutiny.
In the meantime, Laura Niles, a generously-endowed model, refuses to hold anything back, displaying what may well be an unforgettable performance while in an unconventional three-way with Moody and his agent, Charlie Runkle, played by Evan Handler.
However tittilating, sex alone does not a good show make.

Laura Niles – CalifornicationThe funniest bloopers are right here

Although it deals with the complications of a man who appears to have everything, Californication also offers literary one-upmanship in generous amounts.
The wordplay and the witticisms come quick, fulfilling viewers’ literary expectations since the show, after all, is about a writer.

“At the end of the day, if you can do anything else telemarketing, pharmaceutical sales, or ditch-digging, major league umpire I would suggest you do that because being a writer blows: Its like having homework for the rest of your life,” Moody says, addressing a high school class of would-be writers.

Californication also gives a nod in the direction of Dorothy Parker, by way of recognizing the contributions of Kathleen Turner, who appears in the third season as Runkle’s boss, Sue Collini, who “always gets her wienie.”
After witnessing Runkle enduring Collini’s mocking yet funny tirade, Moody asks him: What fresh hell is this?
Besides being an original gem from writer Dorothy Parker, it is also the same line uttered by Turner more than two decades ago when she played Barbara Rose in War of the Roses.
Turner may have lost some of her looks, but as Collini, she is as spunky as ever, providing an exciting dimension to a show that has pushed the limits of television.
With quirky characters like Collini, partnered with an clever script, Californication is more than just Sex and the City for Men — it is entertainment, however risque, at its finest.
From the Gratitude Dept. Some words of inspiration came from Karl Kaufman. Photo of Laura Niles astride David Duchovny from, which says it was taken by Randy Tepper.

Entourage: A Review

Entourage screen grab

ENTOURAGE is a wet dream.
Which explains why male teenagers and middle-aged men are falling all over themselves just to follow the misadventures of Hollywood’s fictional Gang of Four—Vincent “Vinny” Chase (Adrian Grenier), fast-rising movie star; Eric “E” Murphy (Kevin Connolly), his best friend and manager; Johnny “Drama” Chase (Kevin Dillon); Vinny’s lesser-known and somewhat down and out actor brother; and a fellow which goes simply by the name of “Turtle” (Jerry Ferrara), Vinny’s driver and man Friday.
While James Bond appeals to the typical male fantasy of saving the world and bedding distressed damsels, Entourage—with its babes, booze, big bucks, and belyando spruce—touches their inner Hugh Hefner for reasons both wrong and right.
Featuring cameos of pornstars Jesse Jane and Devon, and other hotties such as Emmanuelle Chriqui who plays Sloan, E’s girlfriend, Entourage has gained a popular yet predominantly-male following despite what appears to be the subject matter’s self-indulgent content: Hollywood contemplating its own navel while taking the audience along to appreciate its excesses.
However, no one’s complaining, even if the Gang of Four—all born and raised in Queens—is sometimes tempted to ditch its New York state of mind.
Despite its displays of conspicuous consumption, unbridled one-upmanship, adolescent power-playing, and gratuitous sex, the show has emerged as one of the most entertaining programs on television.
Too good to pass for reality TV yet too risqué for regular programming, Entourage has proven that a fast-paced, well-written script with a thoroughly conceptualized storyline even without big name stars can attract loyal viewers, boost ratings, and win awards. (But then again, what else can they expect from a roster of brilliant writers which include Larry Charles who wrote for Seinfeld?)
Besides countless nominations, Entourage—whose alternate title is Superstar in my House in Taiwan—has bagged two Golden Globes and the British Academy Television Award as Best International Programme just for this year alone.
And from the looks of it, the awards are not going to stop, if Entourage’s third season—set to premier locally on HBO Signature this July 30—is any indication.
Take the season’s first episode entitled “Aquamom.”
The gang finds no difficulty in looking for a suitable date for the hotshot actor whose movie Aquaman is about to premier in Hollywood. The woman—the most beautiful in the world, according to Vince—is his mother, played by Mercedes Ruehl. Unfortunately, Aquamom, who has never left New York for 30 years, refuses to fly to the west coast to attend the event.
Using his charm and fame, Vince is able to finagle his mother into getting on a plane to Los Angeles for his movie’s premier.
However, once the premier has come and gone, her mother’s fear of flying will be the least of Vinny’s problems.
As he struggles to find a balance between his superstardom and his dedication to the acting craft, Vinny’s agent Ari Gold (spectacularly played by Jeremy Piven) will always be a thorn on his side, pushing him into accepting mind-numbing blockbuster projects.
But with his crew’s support, Vinny would be strong enough to reject scripts from big-time studios, proving that while you may take the boy out of Queens, you can’t take Queens out of the boy.


An edited version of this review was published in the August 2007 issue of Personal Fortune, a magazine of BusinessMirror.

The Producer


EVERYBODY loves Raymond, everybody hates Chris, but no one knows exactly how to handle Larry.
Which is understandable.
After all, Larry David, co-creator of Seinfeld and star of HBO’s Curb Your Enthusiasm—a mockumentary about his life as a semi-retired TV producer—is an acquired taste.
So why even decide to spend half an hour watching a rich, self-loathing, white Jewish male kvetch his way through middle-age when other sitcoms can easily tickle funnybones with a lot less angst and effort?
Simple: Curb Your Enthusiasm—now into its sixth season—is worth it.
If Seinfeld took the traditional sitcom format to the edge—an award-winning episode, The Contest, deals with self-gratification without even mentioning the M word—Curb, which is shot without a script, pushes the envelope all the way.
With no less than David doing all the heavy lifting—conceptualizing, producing, acting, and editing—Curb has its misanthropic anti-hero lie about sexual molestation in group therapy, discuss his wife’s numb vagina with a Native American gardener named Wandering Bear, and suggest a name for a lesbian couple’s adopted Chinese child (“How about Tang… It’s not a name, it’s a juice.”).
But critically-acclaimed Curb is more than just provocative storytelling.
Although most episodes feature a story arc—in which widely disparate events at the beginning come together at the end, a concept David used to great effect at Seinfeld—the series also offers a similar Seinfeld-like inventiveness, a characteristic generally credited to the show’s executive producer.
After Seinfeld introduced “Yadda yadda yadda,” and “master of your domain,” among others, into popular culture, Curb refused to be outdone and volunteered its own samples. These include “a big bowl of wrong,” used by Jeff Greene, David’s manager, to describe his misadventures, and concepts like “the stop and chat,” a social convention which forces David to exchange pleasantries with people even though they have nothing to talk about.
Nothing ever seems sacred to David and, by extension to Curb.
True to his nature, the show’s executive producer has made fun of HBO’s slogan more than once.
“‘It’s not TV’? It’s TV. What do they think people are watching?” he says in the second season.
Besides providing top-notch, unconventional entertainment—at least to viewers who can wince while laughing—the series has also successfully crossed the line between television and theatrical reality.
In the fourth season, David is asked by no less than Mel Brooks, who appears as himself, to play one of two leads in the New York production of The Producers. Originally a 1968 movie of the same title, the Broadway show and its more recent movie adaptation, all produced by Brooks, centers on two con artists who intend to produce a flop so they can swindle their investors.
Except for Brooks and his wife, Anne Bancroft, no one knows that David was deliberately hired to fail.
Weary of The Producers’ commercial and critical success since it opened in 2001, Brooks and Bancroft—like the two leads in the musical—sought to end production to terminate the show’s tour across the continental US. “No more dirty beds in Pittsburgh,” Brooks tells his wife, as he toasts to their well-executed plan.
Little did they expect that David, playing Max Bialystock, would actually become the king of Broadway. After he flubs his lines during opening night, David does stand-up, cracks a joke about a Sikh’s turban, and becomes an instant hit with the audience, which includes Jerry Seinfeld.
As a result, the episode, which features David singing two songs from the The Producers, is transformed into a play within a play; the two separate realities of the mockumentary and the Broadway production intersecting in a cable TV show called Curb Your Enthusiasm.
Meanwhile, despite heavy involvement with tinseltown and the Great White Way, Curb has done the real world one good turn.
In 2004, unused footage from the fourth season’s The Carpool Lane was used to release a wrongfully accused man from prison. When David received this news, he said, “I tell people that I’ve now done one decent thing in my life, albeit inadvertently.” Spoken like a true master of his domain.


An edited version of this piece came out in the June 4, 2007 issue of Personal Fortune, a magazine supplement of BusinessMirror. Mediocre photo taken with the Treo 650. Apologies for going overboard with the links.