Facts: In 2001, the world was finally able to compile a list of Mariah Carey's talents. On the list were skills such as singing, wearing tight pants, smirking, and being bootylicious. Note what didn't make it onto that list: acting. The noble profession of thespianism took a great leap backwards at the inception of Mariah Carey's "acting" career. Five minutes into this movie, and Ang & Crabs were ready to ditch blogging and take up alpaca farming instead. Starring the aforementioned songbird, nominal rap star Da Brat, some guy named Max Beesley, and Tia "I Was in Better Movies, I Swear" Texada. Oh, and Terrence Howard, for some reason.
Plot summary: Little Billie (Carey) is forced onto the stage by her neglectful, has-been drunk of a mother. Their idyllic life together is shattered when Mother of the Year sets their house on fire from an unattended cigarette and loses her job. The logical solution: to send her daughter to an orphanage and never speak to her again. Many years later....Billie is toiling in obscurity waiting tables or somesuch. Timothy (Howard) coerces Billie and her friends (Da Brat, Texada) into becoming backup singers for his talentless girlfriend. But Billie's stratospheric talent is not to be denied. She meets the sleazy Dice, who, upon realizing that Timothy's girlfriend is lip-syncing, and that Billie is actually singing, buys out her contract from Timothy. (And by buys out, we mean writes an $100k IOU that he never pays). After a brief fame montage, she's the hottest thing going on the NYC radio stations, and she and Dice are firmly ensconced in domestic bliss. He wears leather pants a lot. Who could resist? To our dismay, Billie becomes a bit of a diva when she lands a record contract. She has to betray her two long-time friends, but at least she has Dice. For awhile, anyway. They disagree about the direction in which her career is going. Timothy breaks into their apartment and reveals Dice's shady business dealings, and threatens to hurt her if he doesn't pay up. Always a gentleman, Dice beats him up and gets thrown into the slammer. Always a strong woman, Billie leaves this pile of male charm (Dice rolls a snake eyes) and promptly meets a hot dreadlocked producer. So it all works out. Billie finally realizes her dream of playing Madison Square Garden (she books a gig, at least), and then both she and Dice somehow independently write the same sappy song for her to sing that night. But these star-crossed lovers are not to be, as Dice finds himself on the wrong side of Timothy's gun. As Billie is about to go on stage, she finds out about Dice's tragic demise, and she performs their song as a final tribute to his greasiness. Then, of course, she finds her mother, who we've mercifully forgotten about. Roll credits. Thank god.
Key moments of interest:
Gimme another martini, Bill, and let me at that mike. I'll sing my way into your hearts.
Oh, did I mention my daughter's quite a talent, too?
Cute as a button Billie wows the crowds with her precociousness.
Billie and Jane Beam are somehow short on cash, and weasel some out of Billie's father.
(Mama needs the money to buy her gown for the Mother of the Year gala.)
Billie tucks her mom into bed, and then herself.
But her mother's cigarette has a mind of its own, and their house goes up in flames. Fwoosh!
Firemen must be on vacation because the house is a total loss.
Get in the car with the nice lady! Tearful farewell ensues.
Fast forward 20 years or so, and we find Billie scraping by with her friends working as a waitress. (Or a pole-dancer. Hell, we don't know.)
Timothy slimes his way backstage with a proposition.
Unfortunately, it's not of the hooking kind.
At the recording session, Mariah ends up providing the vocals for some no-talent hack.
The always savvy Dice realizes that the vocals are a fraud.
Dice makes a deal with the devil. Like most business transactions, it's cut-and-dried. I'm sure we'll never hear from Timothy again...
Dice and Billie cut her first single. A star is born!
Billie embarks on an adrenaline and body-glitter fueled promo tour.
Strictly managerial Dice invites Billie into see his musical instruments.
Two-backed beast sighting in lower Manhattan!
Billie's record deal is a sign she's finally hit the big-time.
Movie over. Roll credits. We wish.
Timothy and Billie have a tense heart-to-heart in the apartment.
Roll down the intense heart-to-heart checklist: Emerging from the shadows, check. Thinly-veiled threats of violence, check.
Dice goes Tonya Harding on Timothy's ass in some back alley.
Billie bails him out of prison, with the paparazzi in tow.
This all leads to a huge fight in the limo, and Billie must make a choice between leather pants and lifelong friends.
Cue a semi-abusive fight, and Billie is out of there, soul-searching montage (introspective walking through the city, long periods staring out windows, drinking) and all.
Billie immediately finds another, better-looking man: Dreadlocks McSteamy.
Dice decides to express his reptilian feelings through the power of song.
We learn that Dice is not bulletproof, and yet somehow it's hard to feel sorry for him since he was a jackass, a liar, and a cheat.
Billie captures our hearts with her stirring performance of Dice's last will and testament (aka, a shitty song).
Cue perky publicist: "Oh, by the way! We found your mother!"
Driver, take me to my mother right now!
With nary a smirk and a hug, mother and daughter are reunited. All past transgressions have been forgiven.
Cue glorious future.
Snarky movie discussion:
(Note: Ang & Crabs are going to redefine intellectualism and do a little genre-blending here. Since this was the culmination of Mariah Carey's career, we can relate every song she's written to one of the movie's heart-rending scenes.)
ANG: Let's start with Mariah's first hit, "Vision of Love." Do you think Billie has, in fact, a vision of love, or is her talent so impressive that she is destined to be alone?
CRABS: Clearly, Billie's talent is so great that it eclipses not only every aspect of her personality but every facet of her life. Case-in-point: her only expressible emotion is that of a confused smirk, which seems to be her emotional response to everything that happens to her. I would argue that she's actually a victim, or prisoner, of her own greatness, and as such, has no true vision for her life, but merely rolls with the punches when she finds herself in new circumstances. Her tawdry romance with Dice is not something that was intentional, but something that could be seen as in intelligent career move on her part. And while the couple themselves are quite a heavenly vision, we learn that their love is nothing more than ego-driven, fame-seeking delusion.
ANG: What about the song "Make it Happen" from Mariah's classic second album? Do you see this song as an anthem for all young girls struggling in dysfunctional families, and would you argue that it is Billie's sheer force of will that allows her to triumph over her upbringing?
CRABS: I would argue the opposite, in fact. Her consistently emotionless response to everything that happens to her seems to imply that she is nothing more than a dolt, or an idiot savant, if you will, whose sole purpose in life is to sing. Surprisingly, she demonstrates very little ambition, and is not really the catalyst for any of the good things that happen to her. Instead, she relies on her hot pants and ample cleavage.
ANG: I'm sure you remember the inspirational anthem "Hero" which came out in 1993. Who, if anyone, would you argue is Billie's hero in the movie?
CRABS: We'll certainly lead to believe that her mother is in fact her hero. But the movie makes an unconvincing and utterly contrived attempt at driving this point home. I would argue that she has no hero, and in fact is living a capitalistic nihilist's dream by exploiting the system to her own advantage, and yet espousing no clearly-defined creed or well-developed belief system.
ANG: Let's discuss "Always Be My Baby." Are we to believe that Dice is, in fact, Billie's baby, or is this just a red herring designed to distract us from Billie's inner strength?
CRABS: The fact that Billie was so prompt and willing to leave Dice after his angry outburst leads me to believe that in fact he was not her "baby," but merely her sugar daddy. If anything, I think we could say that Billie is the baby of the music industry. After signing her contract, she's promptly coddled, swaddled, and pampered in every way. And yet like most children, she grows to resent her corporate "parents" and starts to rebel against them as their relationship matures. I see this story as ultimately a prophetic tale of the future of industrialized society which values ephemeral things like notoriety and success over core values like family and commitment and apple pie.
For next time: Sound the trumpets! Ang & Crabs are finally going to watch the granddaddy of all bad movies. That's right, kids! It's Showgirls time! (We're reluctant to do this for fear of compromising our fond memories of Saved by the Bell, but it must be done.) Plus! Dustin Diamond (aka Screech) is stopping by to guest blog!
Rating: eight sticks in the eye (and some leather pants).
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