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Margo Howard and Franklin Foer

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from: Franklin Foer

Go, Times, Go!

Posted Wednesday, Dec. 8, 1999, at 12:23 PM ET

Margo,

I am in no mood to mini-boycott the Times this morning. (Perhaps I will have a change of heart tomorrow.) In fact, as I write this I am turning toward 43rd Street and saluting in the direction of culture editor John Darton and the family Sulzberger. I am ecstatic about their appointment of Elvis Mitchell and A.O. ("Tony") Scott as tag-team replacements for outgoing film critic Janet Maslin. (See this morning's New York Observer.) Allow me to write the press release: This may be the best--and certainly the most interesting--lineup of film critics that the Times has ever fronted. Daily film critics are generally a sorry lot. They have to contend with so much Hollywood hokum that they're driven to overuse of overwrought literary pyrotechnics and banal humor. (There are exceptions, such as Roger Ebert and the Wall Street Journal's Joe Morgenstern.) But I am guessing the new-look New York Times crew will be the bright shining lights in their dim profession. Mitchell, currently with NPR and the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, has the perfect sensibility for writing about a steady profusion of disaster movies and romantic comedies. He's a hipster with a canny understanding of the popular culture. It's hard to imagine him praising every Steven Spielberg flick that comes his way, but it's hard to imagine him dismissing them outright either. Plus, he can write wonderfully scathing pans. Scott, on the other hand, brings intellectual heft. As far as I know, he hasn't done much in the way of film reviewing. But this is a plus. It will be fun to watch him get his legs.

There are other reasons for a rosy cultural outlook this morning. (Be cheery, Margo!) A piece in the Washington Post notes the demise of rap impresario Puff Daddy--the Skip Gates of hip-hop. Fans have backlashed against Puffy, accusing him of exploiting the death of his friend and collaborator, the Notorious B.I.G. Recently, record sales have been disappointing. It's a deserved fate. This is not to diminish his career. His work with B.I.G. was slick yet irresistible. (If Notorious had lived, perhaps their partnership would have flourished into the rap equivalent of the Miles Davis-Gil Evans relationship.) And his rap empire is a great success story of capitalism. But Puffy's career has been, well, puffy. His music does dwell on his friend's death in a way that feels disgustingly hollow. And the rest of oeuvre consists of forgettable, not very catchy ditties. In other words, he's commercial without being listenable. And that makes him merely crass. Finally, I think that the existence of the Boring Institute in Maplewood, N.J., is a reason for optimism. I am not sure what they do, and I don't agree with their choice of Hillary as most boring celeb. For that category, I nominate Puff Daddy. I have an idea, dear Prudie. With your expertise in etiquette, I propose that we put out a special millennial edition of Breakfast Table--Best-Mannered Celebrity of All Time. We're now accepting nominees. (I have begun creating a set of criteria and my own list of choices, which I will submit later.)

Your friend with the pompoms,
Frank

the breakfast table
entries
12345678910111213141516
from: Franklin Foer

Go, Times, Go!

Posted Wednesday, Dec. 8, 1999, at 12:23 PM ET
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Margo Howard is "Dear Prudence," Slate's advice columnist. Franklin Foer, a former Slate staff writer, writes about politics for U.S. News & World Report.
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