By DOUG STRASSLER

It’s hard to think of an American couple whose marriage has attracted quite as much ink this year as Prince William and Kate Middleton’s – most of our country’s most famous couples actually remain unmarried. If anything, I’d say that the last celebrity wedding that drew as much coverage was TomKat’s four and a half years ago.

I was reminded of the hysteria while watching the inert Reelz miniseries of The Kennedys, starring Katie Holmes as Jackie. I haven’t watched all 800 segments of this drawn-out affair, but, um, it really has nothing new to contribute to the Camelot canon. But in watching it, I was reminded of a question I’ve asked myself even before Suri became a household name. What kind of star is Katie Holmes?

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This morning, I read Paul Simon’s recent interview in New York magazine, where he talks about staying creative in his seventies, no longer fearing death, and several other things that remind one just how cool he is. Writer Alan Light adds that Simon’s mortality may be balanced by the apparent immortality of the Graceland album and the song “Bridge Over Troubled Water.”

That made me imagine the year 2230, when choral societies will perform “You Can Call Me Al” and the unfrozen head of Alex Ross will discuss the classical characteristics of the “Sail on, Silver Girl” verse.

And then I mused—while taking a shower—that “Bridge Over Troubled Water” might endure not only because it’s beautiful, but also because it’s simultaneously intimate and vague. The lyrics evoke a feeling of caring for someone, of loving them so much that you would do anything for them, but they never reduce that affection to a specific relationship. Is the song written from one lover to another? A parent to a child? A friend to a friend? It could be about any of those things, and that makes it suit any number of ceremonies and private fantasies in your kitchen while you imagine singing it to someone who lives 1,000 miles away and is having a very hard week. (Ahem. So I’d imagine.)

Then as I got out of the shower—face freshly scrubbed with Checks and Balances face wash—I realized that I’ve always heard “Bridge Over Troubled Water” as a message from one friend to another. Maybe that’s because I heard that Simon wrote it for Art Garfunkel, but whatever the case, I think of it as a loving song but not a romantic one.

And finally I thought about how much I love songs like that. Sometimes, friends can forget to tell each other how much they matter, and songs like this remind us to do it.

With that, I present my top five Songs From Your Best Friend. What do you think of my choices? What would you add to the list?

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Did you read Tad Friend’s recent New Yorker article on Anna Faris? It chronicles her efforts to push beyond the limited opportunities offered to women in Hollywood comedies, but more than that, it gets blunt, damning quotes from producers, writers, directors, and actors about why those opportunities are so limited to begin with.  When I finished it, I was infuriated, because I happen to prefer smart movies about women to dumb movies about boys. In a pinch, I’ll even take a dumb movie about women over the latter because I’m alienated by depictions of heterosexual boy-men who are terrified of women and gay guys and who only relate to each other like stunted children.

More specifically: I’m alienated by how much fucking attention that type of man gets in the movies. One or two I Love You Mans could be awesome, but fifty is nauseating, particularly for someone who has never had a problem accessing his feelings, has never thought women were scary, and has never thought guys were “adorable” when they forgot to act like grown ups.

Seeing that type of character at the expense of all others—and seeing the vapid women and gay men who are so often propped up around those characters—is exhausting. Can’t we leaven this bread with some other points of view?

Well… we can try. Or Anna Faris can. Her upcoming comedy What’s Your Number? is trying to put a feminine spin on the comedy of male sexual panic, just as May’s Bridesmaids, starring Kristen Wiig, is trying to be a Hangover for ladies.

The trailer for What’s Your Number just dropped today (thanks to My New Plaid Pants for pointing it out), and I’ve got to say… it looks pretty funny. I’m guessing Bridesmaids is going to be more my speed—that trailer really makes me laugh—but I’m willing to give What’s Your Number? a chance. I’ve only seen Farris in Brokeback Mountain and Lost in Translation, and I know some people really hate her breakthrough film The House Bunny, but the ethos of this movie, about a woman trying to come to terms with all the losers she’s slept with, seems geared to produce laughs that also provoke thoughtfulness. If nothing else, the women in the movie will probably be complex and interesting, which means I’ll probably relate to them.

It doesn’t hurt that there are about 40 hot guys in the movie (Joel McHale! Chris Evans! Zachary Quinto!) and that Farris nails funny lines like that one about the scientist.

But ultimately, I’m interested in seeing this movie because I feel like it needs to exist. I want to see more films that support the feminine point of view.Does that make me weirdly political, and is that maybe not the greatest mindset while watching a raunchy comedy? Perhaps. But I’ll be politically laughing will all my sisters, by god!

p.s. — I’d also love to see smart comedies about gay men, since I could relate to those even more than I could relate to What’s Your Number? But… um… I’m not sure those comedies exist. Gay movies are usually terrible. Though I’m still eager to see I Love You Philip Morris, which may be an exception, and I will always have a soft spot for the sweet romance in Big Eden.

My friend and Critical Condition contributor Katy Shrout just wrote a fantastic essay about the the history of the modern wedding, the changing focus of the marriage ritual, and how all of that is reflected in our fascination with the upcoming royal ceremony.

And before you say, “I don’t give a damn about Prince Hoohoo and Lady Whatzit,” know that by “we” I don’t necessarily mean “you” or “me.” I don’t care about the royals at all, but Katy’s essay speaks to a larger Western attitude that impactseveryone. For instance, after identifying Cinderella as the ultimate marriage fantasy for the 21st century, Katy writes:

The American Cinderella is a girl who achieves princesshood, rather than being born into it, simply by being gifted with the right things. It is a myth of feminine upward mobility, facilitated through consumption, enacted by women especially on the wedding day. It is about rite of passage—how girls become women—and I, for one, would argue the transition is brought about less by Prince Charming than it is by the Fairy Godmother, the kindly feminine personification of the marketplace. You become a woman by becoming visibly beautiful, and you become beautiful by getting the right stuff.

Juicy, right? Katy’s wicked smart. You can find the rest of her essay here.

p.s. — I totally ganked that photo from Religion Dispatches, the online magazine that published Katy’s essay.

I know it’s just me. I know I’m the only person in God’s good world who really enjoys The Event, NBC’s pulpy-delicious sci-fi serial about aliens who are living among us and getting really close to fucking our shit up.

I liked the show way back in September, when it was brand new and there a few “I’ll give it a shots” mixed among the larger chorus of “Not for mes.” And I have continued to like the show, even as the ratings have leveled out and everyone in my immediate circle has bagged on it for being boring and derivative. (Or else ignored it completely.)

I’m aware that my friends and associates will never see the light, and I’m aware that the public at large probably won’t either. I’m aware that The Event is unlikely to be renewed for a second season.

But dammit, I don’t care. I love it. I’m wrapped up in the story—which has taken a surprisingly malevolent turn in recent weeks, revealing a complex new motivation for Laura Innes’ alien leader—and I’m appreciative of how the plot really moves forward every week. Something happens in every episode, just like the creators promised.

I also love that the women on the show are much more than trophies (even the annoying girlfriend has become interesting), and I love the recent revelation that President Martinez’s wife may be a Shady Lady. Oh, and I love what just happened to Hal Holbrook’s character. Bold!

Now, I’m not saying the show is perfect. Sometimes, it goes for the most obvious plot devices, like ending an episode with a character lying unconscious in a burning building. (Will she survive? Tune in next week!) And sometimes, too, it gets tired of storylines, so it lets them drop. (Where did Lyla’s little sister go? Is she still with Gabrielle Carteris?)

But I can overlook these things because the series also doing surprising things. For one, the characters are evolving in organic ways. They’re not just changing because the writers needed to move the plot forward. They’re changing in ways that make sense, given what they’ve been through.

Like I mentioned, for instance, Laura Innes’ character isn’t such a hands-off peacemaker anymore, and Blair Underwood’s president has stopped being gentle, too. The show is permeated by sadness that these two beings, who were once so close to becoming peaceful allies, have now become enemies. But what could they do? Things changed. They had to react.

See… yeah. There’s moral complexity here that I savor. But I’m trying not to spoil it for anyone. So how about this: If you also watch The Event and enjoy it, then let’s talk about it in the comments. And if I’m the only person in the world who enjoys this show, then so be it. I’ll just keep talking to myself, like a crazy person with crazy ideas.

By Doug Strassler

Happy Good Friday, guys! Well, I’ve done it. I’ve added American Idol back into regular TV-watching schedule. And while Stefano Langone’s expulsion should have been the big news, I was left thinking about Katy Perry’s performance of “E.T.”

And Kanye’s guest appearance wasn’t even the reason why. It was just, in watching her (poorly) lip synch her way through this number backed by some advanced-technology aliens, the whole thing felt forced. And derivative. And I realized, I’m so over Katy Perry.

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Hello everyone! Since tomorrow is a holiday for many people, I’m posting a Friday lyrics quiz one day early. I know, right? Is the ceiling the floor?

Anyway, much like Roommate Joe’s quiz from last week, this one has a secret theme. Can you guess it, along with the thirty songs I’ve pulled from my iPod? (And in case you want them, the answers to Joe’s quiz are now in the comments thread of that post.)

Have fun!

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Here’s a post I wrote for NPR’s Monkey See blog about the multiple identities of Dollywood, Dolly Parton’s theme park in Tennessee. The intro goes like this:

Earlier this month, I became the envy of my friends when I visited Dollywood, the theme park that Dolly Parton founded in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee in 1986. Upon reflection, I’ve realized that Dollywood is much like the woman herself. It presents many identities at once, meaning it can speak simultaneously to wildly different types of people.

Here are the Dollywood Identities I observed (as well as their corollaries to the actual Dolly Parton):

You can read the rest of the piece here.

Have you been to Dollywood? What did you think? What do you think of Dolly Parton’s music and image? (As my piece makes clear, I am such a big fan that I’m practically wearing rhinestones and a big blond wig to work today.)

Every now and then, I’ll accidentally watch commercials on TV. Like, I’ll be so mad about a bullshit judgment on Top Chef that I’ll get distracted and forget to fast forward. Then I get even angrier, because the awful specter of Dean Winters as roadkill is added to the image of Mike Isabella’s leering, jerk face.

But sometimes an accidental commercial becomes an unexpected treat. Earlier this week, for instance, I saw this ad for Trivago, a website that helps users comparison shop for hotel rooms:

I like this ad for several reasons…

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The trailer for Fast Five (or as I like to call it, We’re Still Going This Fast? I’m Furious!) is doing me a solid: It’s pandering so shamelessly to its target audience that it’s not even pretending there’s anything in the movie for me. Maybe that’s what happens when you reach the fifth film in a franchise. You know who your people are, and you know there’s no point in catering to anyone else.

At any rate, here are the subtle clues I’m picking up from the trailer:

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