A Divine Dip in Timberlake

Twenty years from now, I wonder if I will have seen a better performance than that of Justin Timblerlake’s Futuresex/Loveshow at Madison Square Garden. With his talent and stage presence, he puts on one hell of a show. In fact, I would argue that he puts on THE show, not merely A show. Between his falsetto vocals, affinity for the piano, and, of course, his bitchin’ dance moves, he keeps his audience captivated from start to finish. It was the closest I’ve been to a religious experience. This either means that he is, indeed, of God-like stature or perhaps this just confirms just how sacrilegious I am.

The stage itself was huge, spanning most of the floor of the Garden. JT had no problem filling up all that space. He worked every inch of that stage. David Copperfield would have liked the trap door usage of the concert. Although there’s nothing I love more than when JT busts a move on the dance floor, I think JT could have commanded his audience just as thoroughly if he only had a piano and/guitar at his disposal.

At this point, Justin has arrived musically. He is not the boy band graduate, who has to rely on his choreographed moves. Now he’s got his own solo moves and music—that he even wrote himself. (That being said, I will never belittle Justin’s time with N*Sync. Let’s not forget that almost every great solo artist has to rely on a group to get going. If anything, his N*Sync roots just show how awesome he is by demonstrating how far he’s evolved musically.)

One finer point that I enjoyed was the vibe between Timberlake and Timbaland. When they gallivanted about the stage for “Chop Me Up” and “Sexy Back”, you just knew those two guys have a good time when they’re together. There’s just something about the way JT “dumbs down” his dance moves so that Timbaland can keep up with him that puts a smile on my face. Also, you only have to look at all the songs they’ve collaborated on (Cry Me a River, Give it to Me, Ayo Technology, etc etc etc) to be certain that they truly dig each other. JT is a tried and true friend, particularly if you happen to be a genius moneymaking producer, as in Timbaland’s case.

There was one thing that tipped the scale from it being a great performance to being a flawless performance: his humble gratitude for his fame and fans. Whether he’s completely sincere, I cannot say, though I would like to believe it. He reminded us of his modest Louisiana roots and admitted that, even after being big in the music world for ages, it’s still “so fucking cool” to have his job. After a phenomenal performance that showcased his talent and his extreme fame, Justin smoothly morphed into a seemingly mere mortal for his humble encore. Of course, once he finished his modest thank you, touched his fingers to the keys, and started crooning “Another Song (All Over Again)” he promptly became God-like again, and the audience was once again a mass of shameless worshippers (myself definitely included).

Bourne Again

It is yet another summer full of non-stop action thrillers. As accepting as I am of all movies (I’m all about entertainment for entertainment sake, whether I’m left breathless after 5 minute action sequences, or if I'm simply laughing at a movie’s so-bad-it’s-good quality), there is one movie this summer that will upstage all before or after: The Bourne Ultimatum. Never before have I been so drawn to an action hero, perhaps because he is not your typical hero. He is a cold-blooded killer who shows little remorse or emotion, even if he kills those who most likely deserve to die.

I marvel at the past audiences of the Bond thrillers, who so lovingly embraced the playboy inclined spy. I would liken Bond’s spy experience to that of a country club membership: at the end of driving, chipping, and putting his way to victory over his enemies, he can shower and return to the club house for a nice dry martini—shaken not stirred. The martini becomes a metaphor for the way Bond can cater his experience to his liking. Bourne on the other hand, never stops and doesn’t get to send his martini back for another. In fact, he has no times for drinks or ladies. His 18 holes involve explosions and psychological torture (as shown in Ultimatum).

Unlike Bond, who typically gets captured and escapes, Bourne is simply too slippery for any formidable foe. The scene at Waterloo Station in Ultimatum is one of the top ten best suspense scenes in action films. Furthermore, Bourne’s orders to the reporter who gets caught in the middle of the CIA vs. Bourne war helps demonstrate just how super-human Bourne is. Who needs Spiderman, Batman, or any Marvel character, when we have Jason Bourne?

Action movies are taking a new turn, where the good guy is part bad guy. The Die Hard series dabbles in this idea, but does not take it as far as Bourne. John McClain has a lot of baggage, and is basically a royal asshole. Then again, royal assholes can certainly drive a terrorist mad—and right into the arms of apprehension. McClain, however, still has a lot of Bond qualities, as he always has time to sign off with his signature “yippee kiyay, motherfucker” at the end. Any hero who has a signature line (again one thinks of “Bond, James Bond”) is clearly compensating for something.

It has been a long time since movie heroes wore white, and Jason Bourne certainly does not. More important, however, Bourne never walks away from his triumphs with a grin and a praising slap on the back, like so many others. He had his girl, but like almost everything else in his life, she was taken from him. Sure it is a movie, but at least the Bourne series better represents reality: there aren’t necessarily martinis and love interests to go around at the end of the day. Bourne carries the faces of all his victims—good and bad, to the grave. Then again, someone like Bourne, who seems so untouchable, may never die, so the weight of these horrors will make for a more complex and tormented good guy. Jason Bourne proves that nice guys do finish last, that’s why it’s best to be part bad on top of being mostly badass.