Most
movies these days—like 90 percent—are unwatchable.
Roughly 97.2 percent of biopics are boring. (Characters aren’t
storylines and the best stories have an element of surprise.
If they’re making a movie about your life, we already
know the twists and turns.) A full 100 percent of films directed
by Madonna are cringe-fests. One reviewer described W.E. as
‘embalmed.’ This is how Guardian film
critic Peter Bradshaw described her first film Filth and
Wisdom:
Madonna
has made a film so incredibly bad that Berlin Festival
goers were staggering around in a state of celestial shock,
deathly pale and mewing like maltreated kittens.
Like
alcohol and antibiotics, combining ‘Madonna’ and
‘movies’ is contra-indicated. Apart from Desperately
Seeking Susan and Madonna: Truth or Dare, films
featuring Madonna range from ‘sorta OK’ to ‘abysmal.’
She
put the ‘bomb’ in the Guy Ritchie abomination
Swept Away. (Remakes, like biopics, also tend to
be mediocre). I’m not sure his career ever fully recovered.
The only thing it swept were the Razzies, taking home five
awards, including Worst Picture of 2002. Critics had a field
day: ‘a cinematic shipwreck,’ ‘waterlogged’
and ‘please do not rescue.’ A Rotten Tomatoes
super reviewer called it the biggest man-made disaster since
the Exxon Valdez.
Getting
any movie made is a minor miracle. Though not yet in production,
Madonna’s vanity project is already showing signs of
tension. Co-writer Diablo Cody has moved on already, hinting
Madonna’s too difficult to work with. Auditions for
the leading role apparently call for grueling, 11-hour song
and dance sessions. My advice to any of the ingenues under
consideration: be careful what you wish for.
Will
nobody inside Madonna’s inner circle tell her? Is she
too surrounded by supplicants and lacking that one essential
straight-shooter to play superego to her id? According to
reports, once upon a time, that person was her publicist Liz
Rosenberg. Alas, Liz retired in 2015. Were she still around,
perhaps she’d sit her client down for some real talk
. . .
Liz:
wait [pained expression] you’re directing?
Madonna: who better to make a movie about my life than me?
(Actual quote).
Liz: literally anyone.
Madonna: it will be a spectacular tribute to all my remarkable
accomplishments.
Liz: it will be a spectacular shit sandwich.
I wonder if there’s anything else Liz would like to
get off her chest? How about . . .
—Before you leave the house, look at yourself in the
mirror and remove at least one accessory. Alternately, if
you’re wearing this, don’t leave the house . .
.
—Don’t go moaning on Twitter about patriarchal
oppression when you’re among the richest, most celebrated
women on the planet . . .
—Don’t post pictures of yourself playing tonsil
hockey with your boytoy on Instagram . . .
—Also . . .
Madonna: what?
Liz: it’s weird.
Madonna: why?
Liz: because you qualify for a discount at Walgreens. While
we’re getting things out in the open . . . that milky
bathtub Instagram share during Covid lockdown made you look
bonkers. Your tribute to Aretha Franklin at the 2018 VMA’s
was an elliptical journey back to your favourite subject:
you. Oh and for for the love of God would you lose that gimmicky
eyepatch?
Don’t
get me wrong. I admire the hell out of Madonna. Her moxie,
determination and raw talent are all ingredients of a life
worthy of a biopic. But now, like Icarus, she’s adding
‘hubris’ to the mix. And we know what happened
to Icarus.
I’m
surprised nobody at Universal Pictures has put a stop to this
madness. Sounds like Universal Pictures is badly in need of
its own Liz Rosenberg. In the corporate world, they call that
person the Black Hat.
When
the boardroom gets swept up in a wave of enthusiasm, the Black
Hat steps in and bursts the bubble. Essential to any organization,
the Black Hat distrusts consensus, values intellect over emotion,
thinks strategically and asks difficult questions. If only
there’d been a Black Hat in the room at Google when
this dorky contraption was first proposed.
In
possibly the most unintentionally hilarious ad in history,
Kendall Jenner stars as a taciturn super model drawn away
from her photo shoot by the exuberance of a passing protest,
joins the fray and somewhere in between trades her modeling
clothes for a stylish ensemble of denim separates.
The
intended message of unity hit its mark: the entire twitterverse
— left and right — was united in mockery, scorn
and outright loathing. Progressives bristled at the tone-deaf
trivialization of progressive causes. Conservatives were giddy
with schadenfreude that this corporate lecture disguised
as sappy woke messaging embarrassed the crap out of Pepsi.
Luckily
there was a Black Hat in the room when the US Air Force proposed
nuking the moon to show the Soviets who was boss at the peak
of the Cold War. Sadly, there was no Black Hat in the room
when G. Gordon Liddy proposed wiretapping the Watergate building.
Black
Hats are rare because who wants to be a wet blanket? Also,
what if they’re wrong, like the investors who turned
down Spanx billionaire founder Sara Blakely? The world is
full of such regrets, like when Yahoo declined to buy Google
for a million dollars. We never hear about the ones who said
‘that’s a terrible idea’ about an idea that
ultimately went down in flames. There’s no third act
to that story.
So
maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Madge will pull a cinematic triumph
out of her hat. Either way, does it matter? Another key ingredient
to becoming biopic material — along with the aforementioned
moxie, determination and raw talent — is boundless narcissism.
One key component to narcissism is an allergy to self-blame.
When the world revolves around you, failure is the world’s
fault. Recall the trenchant exchange between luckless screenwriter
Joe Gillis and long-forgotten silent film star Norma Desmond
in the early moments of Sunset Boulevard:
Joe: “You used to be big.”
Norma: ‘I am big. It’s the pictures that got small.”
If
the Madonna biopic is a flop or worse — merely forgettable
— she can always just pin it on the patriarchy.
