Leaf Brief: Treeing Red

Dress: Arizona Jeans, JCPenny; Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily; Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's  Red and yellow bangles: B Fabulous; Orange bangle: Mixit, JCPenney; Maroon bangle: Iris Apfel for INC, Macy's

Maple Mix Barrette Brooch

Autumn Ornament Barrette

Top: Nine West, Kohl's; Skirt: Candie's, Kohl's; Shoes: Nine West, Amazon; Bag: Nine West, ROSS; Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Fancy Foliage Barrette Brooch

Fall may seem like an odd time to review a show that takes place during summer.  Then again, Red Oaks is an awfully autumny name for a comedy cured in warm weather.  So as with most of life's contradictions, I'll accept that the truth lies somewhere in the middle and get the heck on with it.

The Amazon Prime original Red Oaks (2014-2017), not to be confused with Twelve Oaks (although both have some Scarlett, ha ha), is about a Jewish North Jersey country club in the '80s.  Our hero is David Meyers (Craig Roberts), the club's twenty-year-old assistant tennis pro.  In the first scene of the first episode, David's dad (Richard Kind) has a heart attack on the tennis court during a discussion about David's future.  But Oaks isn't always as serious as an ER trip -- even if pompous club president Doug Getty (Paul Reiser) does tangle with Johnny Law.  It's summer, it's fun.  And David is at least sometimes carefree as he navigates the do's and don'ts of country club life along with his stoner-slash-secret-genius bud Wheeler (Oliver Cooper) and cartoon character of a womanizing tennis pro Nash (Ennis Esmer) one entitled member -- and love interest -- at a time.  

Because true to form of the age of angst, David has girl problems.  And parent problems.  And what-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-life problems.  All of which he battles from his bicycle.  That's right.  What we have on our hands here is a classic manchild.  Not only does David lack wheels, he lives with his parents instead of at NYU.  Still, despite his failure to launch, he wants more from life than a wife and a desk job.  Even if his high school girlfriend Karen (Gage Golightly) is content to remain in their hometown forever.  

As an emissary from the '80s, Red Oaks offers music somewhere between New Wave and the background track on an after-school-special.  And then, of course, there's the fashion.  Although more realistic than the Day-Glo sweat bands and leopard leggings that come prepackaged as Halloween costumes, it's nonetheless iconic, with bowler hats, striped leotards, and Laura Ashley-esque florals swathing the artist, aerobics instructor, and costumer that they respectively represent.  What's more, Jennifer Grey, Gina Gershon, and Josh Meyers (yes, Seth's brother) round out the "adult" cast.  Although the maturity level of Meyers's cheesy photographer is debatable.    

Red Oaks brims with life's big and not-so-big questions but leaves plenty of room for funny.  Introspective and bittersweet, it's a character-driven joy ride that takes a nostalgic look at coming of age in the '80s.     

So, fall.  Get out there and jump in a pile of leaves.  Just look before you leap.  

There are worms in there.

Jost Post: The One About Colin

Like most Saturday Night Live fans, I assumed that Colin Jost was 1) spawned from the spotless teak of a yacht anchored at a Connecticut country club, an idea that was only fueled by those Izod ads he did with Aaron Rodgers, and 2) a bro.  But it turns out that he's 1) a fat kid from Staten Island, and 2) a guy who got beat up by bros.  That's right.  He's from New York City's most undesirable borough, i.e., Pete Davidson's brother from another mother.  In retrospect, I should've seen this coming.  Because bros don't become comedians.  They become fry cooks or investment bankers.  I learned these tidbits and others about Jost after reading his book, A Very Punchable Face.  And that's when I began to really like him.  

Because I didn't -- like him, that is -- when he first appeared on Weekend Update.  I was like, "Who is this clown?  He's no Seth Meyers!"  And the husband was like, "Um, he's exactly like Seth Meyers, only not blond."  But I wasn't alone in my rage disappointment.  In Face, Jost parodies the bad press he received after landing the gig (196):

"I rarely use the word 'hate' and I rarely put words in boldface and underline them and italicize them, but I hate Colin Jost." -- USA Tomorrow

"I'm finding out where Colin Jost lives and I'm going to murder him." -- That Stalker Who Came to My House and Tried to Murder Me

"Two Stars." -- My Aunt in Her Annual Christmas Letter

Still, I began watching Update more closely.  Maybe the husband was right; maybe Jost wasn't as pompous as he seemed.  And his subtle, admittedly wry wit was reminiscent of Meyers's.  Over time, I grew to laugh with him instead of at him, and after a couple of seasons, I couldn't imagine Update without his boyish charm (or without Michael Che's snarkiness).  But it wasn't until I read Face that I found out what was really going on behind the man mask.  He's just a regular guy who just happens to have the perfectly coiffed hair of a Ken doll.  What's more, he wasn't some rent-a-rando who crashed SNL to oust Meyers.  He was good friends with Meyers and had been writing with him for years.  Which just goes to show that even after reading countless showbiz autobiographies, including several by SNL alumni, I still don't know how anything works.  

A Very Punchable Face is very funny.  And not just because it's a book-long joke about the scrappy yet eager-to-please, never-say-die bookworm behind Jost's tennis-anyone? kisser.  But because it includes an entire chapter about an adult Jost pooping his pants.  (See?  I told you he was regular.)  Jost also shares his travel adventures, revealing himself to be a bit of an adrenaline junkie.  Then again, you don't get your mug punched without seeking thrills and, intentionally or not, provoking the locals.  

Here's a passage that I particularly liked, partly because of my own past phone phobia, partly because I get the giggles whenever anyone mentions Omaha Steaks:

"I even get scared when the phone rings because I think, I'm not ready to speak yet.  I haven't figured out what to say.  But when I push through that fear and start saying words, I'm instantly relieved.  That's why answering the phone and talking to another human still feels like a huge psychological accomplishment.  (And that's why I currently have 254 un-listen-ed to voicemails.  The oldest is a call from Omaha Steaks in 2007!*)

*My credit card was declined for the "Surf and Turf Sampler" I bought my grandparents for Christmas." (5)

It's hard to imagine the seemingly sophisticated Jost WHO SPEAKS FOR A LIVING as tongue-tied.  Or spending his years at Harvard consorting with cape enthusiasts.  Or getting kicked out of a Russian nightclub, then leaving his host family their requested teddy bears before slinking back to the States.  Or routinely ordering a cheeseburger and nuggets as side dishes for his McDonald's Extra Value Meal.  And those are just the wholesome parts.  But it's all true (despite the husband's belief that every word in celebrity memoirs is fiction).

As for his relationship with wife Scarlett Johansson, Jost doesn't spill much (way to keep it classy).  But he does say that he and Scarlett first met on the set of SNL when he was just twenty-three and she twenty, which was more than a decade before they'd start dating.  Awwww!  

So, yeah.  I liked this book.  And I can't wait to watch Weekend Update again.  Because how can you not laugh with a guy who's so willing to laugh at himself?  

Still, I don't think I'll ever be able to see Jost without thinking, Get this guy a Porta-Potty!

Movie Moment: I Don't Know How She Does It

I Don't Know How She Does It made me a little bit nervous.  As I'm sure it was meant to.  According to Mindy Kaling's list of romantic comedy stereotypes (even if this movie isn't exactly a romantic comedy), its heroine Kate Reddy (Sarah Jessica Parker) is a cross between the beautiful klutz and the busy working woman who is obsessed with her career and never ever has any fun.  As a finance executive, wife, and mother of two, Boston-based Kate is relentlessly plagued by a never-ending to-do list that catapults her into one fiasco after another (enter beautiful klutz syndrome) and makes her the subject of smug stay-at-home-mom Wendy Best's (Busy Phillips) barbed commentary (delivered documentary-style from a treadmill at the gym).  Although Kate's freelance architect husband Richard (Greg Kinnear) is mostly understanding, we sense that he is one play date away from a meltdown.

The heat is turned up on Kate's pressure-cooker life when she scores an account designing retirement fund plans for hotshot New York financier Jack Abelhammer (Pierce Brosnan).   Far from being put off by Kate's klutziness, the widowed Jack is charmed by it, a feeling that grows as Kate shuttles between Boston and New York for their meetings.  Kate is soon in the precarious position of forging a workplace friendship with a colleague who has a crush on her, a situation that causes her to unwittingly serve as emotional caretaker for Jack.  In this way her career resembles an illicit affair, not because she reciprocates Jack's feelings, but because it usurps her time and attention from her family.    

Of course, Richard lands a plumb design job just when Kate begins traveling, creating the kind of intense conflict for which movies like these are made.  Now, Richard is a pretty good guy.  Certainly not some stereotypical tyrant who would lighten the load of Kate's dilemma by way of his sheer awfulness.  It's his very mild-manneredness that complicates things, echoing the mindset of the husbands in those Second Shift studies.  Which is to say that he seems to think that it's fine for his wife to work - as long as it doesn't get in the way of her real work, which is in the home.

It should be noted that not every part of the movie is serious.  The plot is laced with classic Carrie Bradshaw-style narration that "Sex and the City" fans will enjoy, if only because it reminds them of Parker's plucky appeal as an authority on angst.  There is also plenty of witty dialogue, punctuated by well-placed jokes.  Finally, the spoiled and catty Wendy Best is funny.  Yet at the heart of her quips is a bitterness that I can't help but feel channels the movie's central message, which is this: Kate may travel a treadmill of never-ending conflict between work and home, but Wendy is trapped on a treadmill of catering to her kids and in-laws.  She's angry because she's jealous of Kate.  Although stressed and conflicted, Kate never comes off as angry.  The comparison between Kate and Wendy poses the question: What do these women really want, and how stressed are they willing to be to get it?  At first I had trouble answering this question.  During most of the movie, I just wanted Kate to quit her crazy-ass job already.  But ultimately I understood that for her, her job was her identity and therefore worthy of fighting for on her terms.

So, a lot of deep thoughts swirling around here.  I Don't Know How She Does It, by the way, got terrible reviews. (It closed fairly quickly after opening this past September.)  I admit that it wasn't great.  But I don't think it was as bad as people made it out to be either.  It was just up against the challenge of tackling an unpopular topic and falling somewhere between light fare and full-fledged drama in the process.

Movie Moment: New Year's Eve

Like Valentine's Day, Garry Marshall's other holiday-themed, star-studded extravaganza, New Year's Eve features eight intersecting vignettes about people searching for hope, and yes, in most cases, love. 

Here's the rundown.  (I'm not going to bother using character names; when a movie has as many celebrities as this one, they become sort of superfluous.)  Josh Duhamel is hoping to meet the "extraordinary" woman he met last New Year's Eve by chance at a pizza place.  Michelle Pfeiffer is a bored office worker who hires bike messenger Zac Efron to make her New Year's resolutions come true.  Jessica Biel and Seth Meyers are competing with Sarah Paulson and Til Schweiger for the $25,000 awarded to the first baby born in the new year.  Hilary Swank is orchestrating the Times Square ball drop and encounters technical difficulties that can be solved by only eccentric electrician Hector Elizondo.  Sarah Jessica Parker is a single mom trying to prevent her teenage daughter, Abigail Breslin, from spending midnight in Times Square with a boy.  Wise guy Ashton Kutcher and perky Lea Michele get stuck in an elevator.  High-profile caterer Katherine Heigl, whose sous chef is Sophia Vergara, has her heart broken by rock star Jon Bon Jovi (who, oddly, does not quite play himself).  Robert De Niro is dying in a hospital, and Halle Berry is his nurse.  All of this drama is sprinkled by wise words from Ludacris, who plays a cop and, ostensibly, Hilary Swank's work husband.

Although the plot (or, rather, plots) moved a little slowly at first, New Year's Eve is ultimately fun and frothy, spiked with the kind of gentle twists that you (okay, I) loved in Valentine's Day.  High points included commentary on Sarah Jessica Parker's shoes, Seth Myers's comic timing, Sofia Vergara's silliness, and an appearance by recent "Project Accessory" contestant Shea Curry.  Oh, and the Christmas decorations backlit by the glitz of Times Square.  As always, the flashier the better.