After today, I will never think about Camp Rock again

Until the sequel, anyway. Which will probably come out in, like, two weeks.

Did you guys watch it? Did you? Did you squeal at the Jonas brothers doing… nothing of particular importance?

Let me make it clear that even though I hate the Jonas brothers and their shitty music, I was completely prepared to like Camp Rock. I like cheesy stuff when I have a healthy buffer of vodka in my system.

But seriously, how the fuck did four different people write Camp Rock? How did one person write something, show it to three different people, and each of those people said, “Nice! No need for a second draft of THIS baby”?!

I actually ended up watching Camp Rock again when it aired. With my sister and brother-in-law. It was actually pretty great watching it with them, because things would happen in the movie and one of them would say, “Oh, that’s obviously a set-up for later,” and I’d say, “Actually… no. That never comes up again.”

First off, Demi Lovato needs to stop smiling. For serious. It hurts.

Anyway, she plays Mitchie, this girl who is poor but yet IS SOMEHOW STILL TALENTED (I know). I love how she makes this big deal about how she only has one friend at school, yet she is undeniably pretty and doesn’t appear to have any problems talking to new people. The movie starts off with the world’s lamest wardrobe montage – really, there are two different outfits, one of which is shown twice – and with her singing and trying on different pairs of sunglasses and… I guess she’s just a really fun girl who loves life. Except that she has no friends. Yes, because so many unpopular 14-year-olds are totally thrilled about everything.

So Demi really wants to go to Camp Rock, but her parents can’t afford it, except WAIT THEY TOTALLY CAN if her mom becomes the camp cook and forces her daughter to perform menial labor for no pay. THANKS, MOM!

Then we see – from a conveniently-placed news report, like, way to use intelligent plot devices, guys – that some guy (played by Joe Jonas, and his character has a name, but please, we all called him Joe Jonas) has pissed off his band members by storming off a music video set, so the rest of the band… cancels their tour? And forces Joe Jonas to go teach at Camp Rock? Are they allowed to do that? I don’t think their music label would be like, “Yes, we fully support not earning millions of dollars while Joe Jonas spends several weeks not really doing anything.”

Mitchie arrives at Camp Rock and while she initially makes friends with the sassy, independent Caitlyn, Mitchie instead tries to fit in with the cool-girl group. Except the cool girls only like girls from rich parents, so Mitchie LIES and says that her mom is the president of some music company. Yes, the same mom who is EMPLOYED AT CAMP ROCK AS THE COOK. Yeah, I can’t see that biting her in the ass. At one point, Caitlyn says, “Well, my parents are – ” and then is cut off by one of the cool girls.

Brother-in-law: Oh, so it turns out Caitlyn’s parents do something really cool?
Me: No.
Brother-in-law: What do they do?
Me: We never find out. This never comes up again.
Brother-in-law: I think you’re wrong. You just forgot.
Me: I will bet you a billion dollars that I’m right.
Brother-in-law: …No.

I think the funniest parts of Camp Rock are the songs, because I can’t figure out if their tactics were smart or stupid. The only time anybody sings in the movie is when they’re actually performing for other campers, which means that, sometimes, people are singing songs that have nothing to do with the plot. I honestly have no idea whether this works for or against the movie. I do like that every song comes complete with back-up dancers. At a CAMP for ROCK.

Joe Jonas finally shows up to teach his class, which is… hip-hop dancing? The fuck? Isn’t he a guitarist/singer? I have no idea what’s going on. He shows up and just says, “Everybody grab a hat and a mic,” because there are randomly boxes of trucker hats and microphones just standing by. And then comes the wonderfully intricate dance number, because all these kids already know how to dance in sync. Wow, Joe Jonas is a good teacher.

Oh, but there’s a drummer guy in the dance class – we know he’s a drummer because he has his drumsticks with him all the time, EVEN IN DANCE CLASS – who is a bad dancer. So Joe Jonas, even though he was a jerk five minutes ago, is all, “I’ll help you get the rhythm from your sticks and into your feet, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.” And you know what? WE NEVER VISIT THIS PART OF THE STORY AGAIN. We never see drummer guy dance – or, if we do, it’s in the background with all the other kids as part of a different storyline.

Now, even though they make a big deal about how shy Mitchie is onstage (except we don’t really ever see any evidence of this beyond her saying “oh, I’m nervous” and then doing it anyway, LIKE EVERYBODY DOES), she apparently has absolutely no problem flirting with Joe Jonas. At all. She’s all stammering in front of the cool girls and then Joe Jonas shows up and she’s like, “HEY BABY GRAB MY BOOBS.”

Also, am I wrong, or is Joe Jonas an INSTRUCTOR AT THE CAMP and yet still FORMING A ROMANCE WITH A CAMPER? I don’t care how close in age they are – there has to be some kind of rule against that. Well, there would in normal life.

Oh, yeah, so earlier, Joe Jonas was hiding in some bushes (go with me on this) and he hears Mitchie playing her shitty song on a piano, but by the time he gets inside the building, she’s gone (which makes even less sense since he was literally hiding RIGHT BESIDE THE DOOR – in fact, if he had simply TURNED AROUND he could have seen her through the window). So he spends the movie trying to find “the girl with the voice,” like, maybe you want to be a little more specific, there, Kojak.

Eventually, one of the cool girls finds out Mitchie’s secret and forces Mitchie to tell everyone that her mom is just a cook. So Mitchie learned an important lesson about lying – DON’T LET ANYONE FIND OUT. Joe Jonas gets all mad at her for some reason and her life is ruined. RUINED.

Then, when Joe Jonas is by himself, he’s playing Mitchie’s stupid song, and the cool girl hears him and recognizes it as Mitchie’s. So cool girl goes and steals Mitchie’s song book. AND THEN THIS PLOT POINT IS NEVER MENTIONED AGAIN. I’m not kidding. You think she’s going to steal Mitchie’s songs? No. No she doesn’t. Instead she frames Mitchie for stealing her bracelet. Yeah, I have no idea.

At the Camp Rock press junket, I was talking to one of the producers about this part, and he was like, “Nooo, you just misunderstood. She wasn’t stealing the songs, but when she saw that Mitchie had written the song that Joe liked so much, the cool girl didn’t want Mitchie to be able to perform the song, so she framed Mitchie in order to get her kicked out of the final performance.”

Oh. THAT IS SO MUCH CLEARER, THANK YOU. (Also, every single other person I talked to about this was like, “Oh, no, I thought they had just screwed up the storyline, too.”)

Anyway, when the cool girl performs, her rock star mom is in the audience, but then her mom takes a phone call in the middle of the song, so cool girl trips and cries and thus is totally redeemed. Actually, she doesn’t cry so much as do the most amazing fake crying you will ever see in your life. Even with the horror that is the rest of the movie, Camp Rock is almost worth the whole thing just for the fake crying. She apologizes to her lackeys for being so mean, and then she’s like, “Hey, Mitchie, I told the camp director you didn’t really take my bracelet.”

Gosh, that certainly sounds like something WE WOULD HAVE LIKED TO SEE.

Yeah, anyway, Mitchie performs her stupid song, Joe Jonas realizes that SHE’S THE GIRL, and then they all dance together and don’t kiss.

Did they just write this script when they were high on shrooms? After all that and THEY DON’T EVEN KISS?! What the fuck, Disney channel? WHAT THE FUCK?

Oh, wait, I forgot my favorite part of the story. The reason that Joe Jonas is such a jerk? It’s because his label wants him to play this lame, cookie-cutter music that will sell. But now that he’s at CAMP ROCK he can finally make the music HE wants to make. So he comes up with the LAME, COOKIE-CUTTER MUSIC OF THE CAMP ROCK SOUNDTRACK. And he’s all, “Oh man, this music is SO RAD! But the label will NEVER go for anything THIS edgy! CURSE MY AWESOME EDGINESS.”

And, of course, the label does go for it. It’s not even an issue.

So, in conclusion, I thought Camp Rock would be cheesy but entertaining, but it was cheesy and DIDN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE. Every time you thought they were setting up a hackneyed plot device, it turns out that if they were, they completely forgot about it later. AND THEN THEY FILMED THE ENTIRE THING.

Come on, guys! Just show the drummer guy dancing a solo at the final performance! Have the mean girl perform Mitchie’s song and have Joe Jonas all disappointed because he doesn’t actually like her! Then have Mitchie get over her stage fright (and actually have her have stage fright to begin with) to sing her song properly and Joe Jonas realizes that she’s really the girl of his dreams. Then have Caitlyn’s parents show up, and it turns out THEY ARE THE PRESIDENT OF EVERY MUSIC LABEL OF ALL TIME and they’re all, “We’d like to make Mitchie super famous and rich, while Cool Girl will be blacklisted for the rest of her life.” Then Mitchie and Joe Jonas kiss and girls all over the world faint.

Seriously. I just wrote that in two minutes. Good lord, Camp Rock. Two minutes of rewrites! Could you really not postpone your daily 2 p.m. trip to the bar for TWO MINUTES?

…Okay, I can kind of sympathize with that. But STILL. Camp Rock serves as proof that if you’re desperately trying to recapture the success of something else, slow down a little bit to make sure you’re not screwing the whole thing up. Or, failing that, throw a bunch of money at a subpar boy band and hope that people don’t notice your crappy script.

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My Camp Rock trip

Yes, I was in New York City this past week – for about 36 hours. In that time, I met one of my idols, one of my former idols, a group of teen idols who make me sad for the future, and watched a terribly cheesy movie that somehow needed four people to write it.

I’m not going to go into any detail of the Camp Rock plot in this entry – I’m going to wait until its television premiere next weekend. If any company would send out hitmen to kill people who spoil the secrets of a mediocre TV movie, it would be Disney.

I got into New York around noon on Wednesday, and already the street outside my hotel was filled with camera crews and press tents and scores of screaming girls. None of the “stars” of Camp Rock were even showing up until about 4, but that didn’t stop the girls from screaming. Oh, no. That would be smart. Instead, they strained their vocal chords for hours – I could hear them from my hotel room, on the 29th floor, with the windows closed. For the frickin’ Jonas Brothers. I was tempted to ask some of the girls if they’d ever heard of Hanson, but I knew that was unlikely.

It was also hot as balls in New York City, so I was very happy I wasn’t one of the journalists who would be working on the red carpet (or white carpet or whatever stupid color they had) for an hour before the movie started. I had an assigned seat for the Camp Rock screening, so I didn’t bother to get in line until about 15 minutes before it started – and the line to get in wrapped around the block. I was again surrounded by young screaming girls. Most of them were with their parents who, judging by their insane jewelry and Louis Vuitton handbags, had paid a pretty penny to get their beloved Muffy or Cookie or Priscilla into the screening.

In the theater, once again, the girls would NOT. STOP. SCREAMING. I mean, really, do you think any of the Jonas brothers is going to be like, “Heyyyyy, that girl is crying simply because I am a hundred feet away! I should invite her out for a milkshake”? I don’t even think Kevin, the ugly one, would do that.

I know I said I would save my comments about the actual Camp Rock movie until a later post, but I will say one thing about it, something I never, ever thought I would say: High School Musical is a much better movie. And HSM only took one person to write it, while Camp Rock took four. FOUR. I could have written Camp Rock while sitting on the toilet, and what ended up in the toilet would still have smelled better.

I will admit that the soundtrack is cheesy fun, though. I have been listening to it nonstop since I got back. I hate myself.

At the Camp Rock afterparty – which required special passes, for reasons I don’t really understand – I was expecting a dance floor filled with hyperactive 12-year-olds who were high on Haiwaiian Punch. Imagine my delight when I saw that there was an open bar for the grownups. Hello, Jack and Coke, how are you two doing? I haven’t seen you in a while, and I think tonight is the perfect night for us to become reacquainted. “Heyyy, after shix or sheven of theesh drinksh, thish mushic ishn’t nearly sho bad. Yesh, Miley Shyrush, you shertainly could be a rock shtar! HOLD ON TO YER DREAMSH!”

The party also featured a performance by the Camp Rock female lead, Demi Lovato. It was… a performance. Of music, I guess.

I met Stephen Baldwin at the Camp Rock afterparty, because that’s how he entertains himself these days. If this were 12 or 13 years ago, when The Usual Suspects had come out, I would have been well chuffed, but instead I desperately searched for something to say other than, “What the fuck happened to you, man?” I went with, “Nice to meet you. Where’s the s’mores stand? Don’t lie, I can tell you’ve spent a good chunk of time there tonight.” (There really was a s’mores stand. It was a bigger highlight for me than meeting Stephen Baldwin was.)

I was incredibly excited when I met Julie Brown, who is completely awesome for one reason: Earth Girls Are Easy. Case in point:

Of course, Julie Brown is not only in Camp Rock, but she’s one its four writers, but the goodwill she earned with Earth Girls far outways one little mistake.

When I left the party, there was a big group of girls at the entrance, begging people who were leaving to give them their pass to the party.

Me: Here you go.
Girl: OH MY GOD!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! EEEEE!!!!

She hugs me.

Me: I’m going to take it back if you don’t stop doing that.

Thursday was the press junket, so I headed over to the hotel and enjoyed the delicious (and free!) buffet, including these wonderful mini-bagels, of which I had about twelve. Food always tastes better when someone else makes it and you don’t have to pay for it. The print interviews didn’t take place until after all the other interviews happened, so there was a lot of time spent waiting around, shooting the shit with the other journalists. We heard that one of the television reporters made the mistake of asking Nick Jonas about his breakup with Miley Cyrus – apparently, there was about 30 seconds of silence, and then Nick said, “I’m not here to talk about that.”

Awkward.

Now, because the Jonas brothers are such a big fuckin’ deal (kill me, please), there were no one-on-one interviews with them. Instead, there were about 6 or 7 tables with a few journalists at each, and each “star” of the movie would spend about 10 minutes with each table. But the Jonas brothers are a package deal, apparently, so we had to talk to all of them at once.

That’s right. I MET THE JONAS BROTHERS. You may all kneel at my feet and offer me presents.

First of all, why are Joe and Kevin Jonas trying to bring back the Miami Vice look? It was a stupid look on Don Johnson and it’s even worse now that it’s 20 years later. I realize that they weren’t alive when it was on and, therefore, think they’re coming up with a look that’s fresh and hip, but Jesus, if you don’t want anything covering your forearms, wear a short-sleeved shirt instead of pushing your suit jacket sleeves up.

Also, Nick Jonas: a combination of Danny Zuko and Fonzie. A little sad, but actually pretty amusing when you lack a heart. So: hee hee hee.

I apparently made a bit of a faux pas when I asked the brothers about their purity rings. See, they wear the rings in Camp Rock even though they’re not playing themselves, so I asked if that was a conscious decision to have their characters also be waiting until marriage for sex.

Joe: No, it’s more like if I’d worn my favourite watch in a scene.
Me: But that means it’s also your character’s favourite watch. Or at least a watch your character would wear.
Pause.
Joe: I didn’t really put that much thought into it.
Me thinking: Having seen Camp Rock, I can believe that.

After they left the table, one of the other journalists at my table (who was from Malaysia) complimented me for having the guts to ask them about the purity rings, since she’d been told not to bring it up.

Oops.

Me: We weren’t supposed to talk about the purity rings?
Malaysian Journalist: Well, my boss told me not to mention it, since so many American teenagers wear the rings anyway and it’s not a big deal.

The journalists from Germany and the UK and I all burst out laughing before telling her that no, most American teenagers do not wear purity rings. The Malaysian journalist blushed and swore and we all enjoyed a hearty laugh at her expense. Mockery: bringing people together.

As for Demi Lovato, she’s a very pretty girl and is clearly trying to appear more “edgy” than she does in the movie. LOADS of black eye makeup, black nail polish, an ACDC T-shirt, and a bomber jacket with the sleeves pushed up. Way to leave Barney and Friends in the past!

I did hear a rumor about her at the press junket that she was in an elevator with her Disney handler and some of the other journalists, except she didn’t realize they were press, and she made a comment about how annoying it was to have to share the elevator with regular people and tourists. I have absolutely no proof that this happened, but it’s kinda funny, and I like talking shit about people, so GOOD ENOUGH.

I also ended up interviewing Julie Brown, and the look on her face when she realized that the crazy fan from the night before was an actual member of the press was priceless. You will be happy to know that I didn’t even have the sense to act ashamed. Instead, I was like, “Ha, you have to act like you like me so I won’t write bad things about you. Sucka!”

One of the other actresses in the movie, Alyson Stoner, was both lovely to talk to and incredibly depressing. She told us that she’d just graduated high school and was looking to start college in the near future. SHE IS FOURTEEN YEARS OLD. If you are ever looking to feel bad about how little you have accomplished in your life, spend five minutes talking to her. However, she won a lot of points by admitting the clothes she had to wear in Camp Rock were ridiculous and she was a little embarrassed about it. I was like, “This is on the record! Disney is going to send hitmen after you!”

In the lobby of the hotel, I met BRADLEY COOPER of Alias fame, and good lord, he is a gorgeous man. I was very, very suave, and said something like, “HEY! YOU’RE BRADLEY COOPER!” and then I blushed furiously, shook his hand, and ran away.

Every once in a while, I’d go down to the street to have a cigarette, and there were about 10 girls waiting on the sidewalk for the off chance the Jonas brothers would come down and say hi. They were there at 10 a.m. and were still there when I left at 5. Everytime I went down, they would hound me for information.

Girls: What are they doing? What’s going on? Are they done soon?
Me: I don’t know. We just had lunch.
Girls: What did they eat?!
Me: I didn’t eat lunch with them. I just get to interview them later.
Girls: OMG WTF YOU ARE SOOOOOO LUCKY.
Me: Sure.
Girls: So what do they do after?
Me: Listen. I sit in a room. The Jonas brothers come in, I talk to them, and they leave. If they’re not in the room, I have absolutely no idea what they’re doing.
Girls: If we give you a note, will you give it to them?
Me: No.
Girls: Why not?!
Me: That’s really, really unprofessional.
Girls: Why?
Me: Maybe if you weren’t skipping school, you’d learn why.

When I left, though, I did give the girls my bag o’ swag (minus the Camp Rock hoodie, because it was crazy comfortable). However, I only gave it to them on one condition.

Me: I will give this to you if you stop skipping school to follow shitty bands.
Girls: THE JONAS BROTHERS ARE NOT SHITTY.
Me: Fine, I’ll take my bag with me, then.
Girls: NOOOOOO OKAY FINE.
Me: I don’t believe you.
Girls: NO REALLY!
Me: I still don’t believe you, but lucky for you, I don’t want to take this on the plane with me.
Girls: WOOO HOOOO EEEEEE!!!
Me: Seriously, though, what is it about the Jonas brothers that makes it worth your time to spend hours upon hours waiting on the sidewalk on the off chance they will come down and talk to you?
Girls: They’re so sweet and their music is great and it speaks to us and they’re really nice and we know they’re going to come down and talk to us because they’re soooo good to their fans.
Me: But they’re probably just going to shake your hand and sign a few autographs. You’ll be happy with that, after standing around for seven hours?
Girls: YESSSSS!
Me: …Jesus. Good luck, guys.

And with that, I left to go cram as much sight-seeing as I could into my remaining two hours in New York City. I made it to the Central Park zoo, Time Square, and MoMA, all of which managed to get rid of most of the bad taste in my mouth left by all the Jonas brothers ass-kissing I witnessed.

I did have a fantastic time in New York – including seeing Camp Rock and talking to the Jonas brothers – and as bitchy and sarcastic as I was about the whole press experience, I was pretty jazzed that my job still allowed me to go to New York for free. Hell, I’d spend a week spooning with the Jonas brothers if it meant I got to go to New York for free. And then I’d probably make a few bucks letting their 14-year-old fans touch the parts of my body that touched the Jonas brothers.

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I’m in New York City, bitches!

Only for two days, and… it’s for the Camp Rock premiere. I will be meeting the Jonas brothers and watching this God-awful movie. But still, free trip to New York! Score!

The streets below are filled with screaming girls. I don’t remember ever having this much pep or lung power when I was that age. The best part? None of the stars have even ARRIVED yet. They’re just screaming because they can.

I’ll have plenty of tales to tell when I return, I’m sure, so you should definitely hold your breath.

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Slow days

Sometimes, I sit at my desk, praying for somebody famous to OD.

I don’t want them to die. I’m not a monster. Not that I think me praying for someone’s death has any real effect on whether or not they die, but even I have to admit that explicitly wishing for someone’s heart to stop beating is a little harsh. Actually, amend that: it’d almost be understandable to wish someone dead if they someone who had hurt or angered me in a serious way, like if they punched my mom or tried to make me watch Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas when I’d already made it very clear that I just didn’t like the fucking movie (are you listening, Gary?). But if I haven’t actually interacted with someone in any real way, shape, or form, even I can admit that hoping they’ll die is a little extreme.

But entertainment news, like anything else, experiences fast days and slow days. And when it’s slow, it’s fucking slow. On slow days, you eagerly accept a story about Ali Sims walking her dog. Or the Jonas Brothers still being virgins. Some child star complains about Hollywood being unfair. I jump at these stories just so I’ll have something to do. There are only so many Scrabble games I can play at a time on Facebook.

So, on the painfully, painfully slow days, I scour the entertainment news wires, hoping that an Olsen took too many Trimspa or that Lindsay Lohan put on too many pairs of leggings at once and has been rushed to a nearby hospital where whoever is expected to make a full recovery but will probably be entering 30-day treatment program to deal with their addiction.

When that happens, I have hours upon hours of work to finally fill my day. I write about shocking – SHOCKING – drug/booze/leggings binge that led to this tragic event, the history of the celebrity’s addiction, and the maximum jail sentence that such a crime may warrant. I find out what other celebrities have to say about it. I find photographs of other celebrities during their low points and I write about those times. I update the article – and all related articles – several times throughout the day. It gives my day a sense of purpose, even if the news itself doesn’t matter by the next day, which it usually doesn’t.

The goal is to get to 5 o’clock as quickly as possible. If a celebrity on the edge of death helps speed things up a little, then that’s what I want.

Well. That’s not entirely true. I pray for a celebrity to OD when it is convenient for me. If it’s 4:45 p.m. and someone shoots up with a little too much heroin, I am fucking pissed. I was 15 minutes away from going home, opening one to seven bottles of beer, sitting down on the floor between my couch and my coffee table and getting drunk while watching Facts of Life reruns. So if something big happens soon before I’m going home for the day, that celebrity can rest assured that I am going to put as little effort as possible into my story about them. I don’t care if you were caught fellating a monkey while Britney Spears herself was cooking meth in your kitchen. I will do my job and write about how much of a fuckup you are, but I will get no joy out of it. Which means you have effectively ruined my day.

Granted, this isn’t hard to do, but there’s a difference between a day that sucked all by itself and a day that was ruined by somebody ODing right before I was going to get beer.

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