Alc-O-Vision
In an amusing recent New York Times dining column, Wendell Jamieson writes about his predilection for drinking themed cocktails while watching DVDs. His pairings tend to be a bit highbrow (Sabrina-inspired martinis, absinthe for A Very Long Engagement), so our writers have added a few YIL-worthy options for the lower-falutin among you:
Kate:
A spiked Orange Mocha Frappuccino when watching Zoolander. At Starbucks, this beverage is known as a Mocha Valencia – you can pick one up there and then add a shot of Absolut Orange vodka. The film’s star, Derek Zoolander (played by Ben Stiller), and his three male model friends enjoy virgin versions of the beverage while cruising around in their jeep listening to Wham right before his pals are killed in a freak gasoline fight. Drinking a spiked Orange Mocha Frappuccino numbs the pain of their loss while watching the film. Make the drink a double if you feel particularly saddened by Rufus, Brint, and Meekus’s demise.
The Aviator follows the life of influential movie producer and aviation magnate Howard Hughes from the late 1920s to 1947. What better way to celebrate the life of this daredevil pilot, played expertly by Leonardo DiCaprio, than by sipping a classic Aviation cocktail? Dating back to the 1920s, the Aviation is a delicious mix of gin, maraschino liqueur, and fresh lemon juice, shaken and served in a martini glass (maraschino cherry optional). Both the drink and the movie recall the daring and glamor of flying in the 1920s, before it became the commercialized practice it is today.
Being a Wisconsin boy born and bred, I naturally feel the pull of the White Russian. Dairy drinks are in my blood. Couple that with my Jeff Bridges obsession, and all signs point to a match made in Lebowski heaven. While the Dude may call his drink of choice a “Caucasian,” we’re talking about the same booze-meets-cream concoction. Next time you’re enjoying a night in with your pals Sobchak and Kerabatsos, don your finest bathrobe and slippers and pour yourself a Caucasian on the rocks.
Should you be weary of drinking on an empty stomach, don’t forget to check out these movie-inspired food recipes as well.
In case you’re looking for even more ways to incorporate hard liquor into your everyday activities, check out HOW TO BOOZE: EXQUISITE COCKTAILS AND UNSOUND ADVICE which promises “The Right Drink for Every Situation,” including stalking your ex (Pisco Sour), reading the Good Book (Angel Face) and the last drink before AA (the Hudson Monarch or Arsenic and Old Lace).
And the winner is …
Coffee! For being the only thing that kept me awake during the 7-hour snooze-fest that was that 2010 Oscars.
The hosts, the ceremony, the presenters, the clothes … trite, trite, trite, trite. I’m never one to shy away from snark, so here goes:
Most of the dresses left me wondering if there was an open call for the Featherduster in the Broadway tour of Beauty and the Beast.
Zoe, you’re a lovely girl, but this dress. We almost saw your goods as you were walking down the steps to present the award.
Zoe Saldana
Re-visiting The Door in the Floor
Thursday’s New York Times features an eloquent love letter to Jeff Bridges, written by my favorite contemporary film reviewer, Manohla Dargis. Her rhapsodic prose makes me want to lock away my keyboard and retire from this whole wordsmithing gig, but, alas, I must put bread on the table.
Bridges has long been one of my favorite actors–an avuncular leading man whose characters would be a hell of a lot more fun to hang out with than any Clooney-portrayed slickster. And unlike most of his out-of-touch peers, you get the feeling the man himself would be a great guy to (political cliche notwithstanding) have a beer with.
Dargis’s piece did a fine job of capturing those very same qualities that make Bridges such a compelling actor, and her graceful words do him justice better than mine can. Yet in her short career retrospective, she left out my favorite Bridges’ performance: as children’s book writer/illustrator Ted Cole in 2004′s The Door in the Floor. The film–an adaptation of the first third of John Irving’s novel A Widow for One Year–didn’t make much of a splash commercially, and I only learned of it from my much better informed filmmaker friend Joel. But there’s something really special in Bridges’ character that has stayed with me more closely than his other fantastic roles.
In her piece, Dargis quotes the legendary film critic Pauline Kael as saying, “Jeff Bridges is enough to make a picture worth seeing.” This certainly holds true for The Door in the Floor. What could come off as a melodramatic (children have died, parents grieve, beaches are wind-strewn), mediocre film is elevated to must-see status by the complexity of Jeff Bridges’ performance. He’s a man employed to write books less than 100 words in length, yet he hires an aspiring writer as an assistant–ostensibly to type and retype his brief manuscripts, but in actuality to act as his chauffeur since he has a suspended license. He plays squash in a caftan in a converted barn. He’s a fucker and a fighter, but you get the feeling it’s only to conform to the stereotype of the aggressive, masculine artist pioneered by his Hamptons’ predecessor Jackson Pollock. In other words, this is The Dude, if only recreational bowling and pot smoking paid as well as writing blockbuster children’s literature. You get all of the nonchalance and unforced coolness of his classic Lebowski role, in a setting that’s much more relatable to your average viewer.
If you haven’t seen The Door in the Floor, and you’re looking to brush up on your Jeff Bridges’ oeuvre, add it to your Netflix queue for an excellent pre-Oscars primer. Then when he finally gets his long-deserved Academy Award on March 7th, you’ll have even more reason to cheer the Academy’s good sense.
Celebrities: Lent me your ears!
Ash Wednesday (aka “Night of the Living Ash-Cross Zombies” to the non-practicing) is upon us. While everyone else is giving up chocolate, reality TV and cussin’, we’ve turned our attention to what other people should give up for the next 40 days. To wit:
Kevin Smith: Give up flying coach (or at least Southwest). If, as you say, you “have enough money” to buy two seats, why, perchance, don’t you just fly first class?
Celebrity Mags: Give Up the ‘Celebs Without Make-Up’ features—nothing about 
seeing a star breakout (not to be confused with a breakout star) is pretty.
Betty White: We’re giving you a pass this year—never give up an inch. Everything you do makes us laugh.
Jeremy Renner: You gave a riveting performance in The Hurt Locker, but give up the Oscar—it’s Jeff Bridge’s turn! We see more noms in your future anyway.
Mr. Clean after Rogaine
“The Bachelor” Producers: Give up casting watching-paint-dry-boring bachelors, floozies, and pregnant gals. Okay, fine, keep casting the floozies and pregnant gals, otherwise why would we watch?
Robert Downey Jr.—you’ve given up enough vices for all the Lents to come—just never give up acting. And never give up that muse you married!
John Mayer: Do yourself, more than anyone else, a favor and STOP GIVING INTERVIEWS. Forty days might not be enough for this one–40 years might be a better plan. Exhibit A and Exhibit B.
