Thursday Morning Cupcheck - Strike a Pose: Vogue

by Todd Maternowski

Hola, hockey fans! Last week we pored over reams of statistical analysis and unfounded hearsay to arrive at some startlingly-accurate Western Conference predictions. This week, I was planning on using the down time between hockey seasons to make bold and sweeping generalizations about various sports personalities (Unfounded Rumor #14: Did you know that Gary Bettman once pistol-whipped me with a smoked sausage? And I didn't try and stop him?), but recent events in el mundo de hockey have forced my pen elsewhere.

I'm talking, of course, about the Stars' new Comstock Lode of Greatness, Sean Avery, who once again is in the news for his involvement in a Hollywood movie about his summer internship at Vogue, which I hear is a 700-page advertisement for shit no one needs, featuring stunning black-and-white photos of emaciated victims of Darfur.

Waitaminute: there's no rule that says a chimp can't play hockey!

I know what you're thinking: "When are they going to make a movie about the life and times of Craig Ludwig, Hunky Charmer?" And frankly, I agree with you 1000%: small wonder Hollywood is going down the tubes, when they fail to realize what the public really wants. Ludwig's got the goods! Put him in a movie, and I can guarantee that myself and three friends will see it opening night. That's a far better return on investment than anything Sharon Stone's ever done.

I must commend Hollywood, however, on their unwavering bravery in the face of insurmountable odds. It's been weeks, months even! since they've churned out a good fish-out-of-water story. I didn't think they would ever top such timeless classics as Junior, The Pacifier and Rocky Balboa. Bully for Hollywood, taking chances when no one else will!

Of course, mixing hockey and movies is like mixing Laotian and Kuwaiti hookers: the results can be catastrophic. Not to mention that the studios are treading on sacred ground here: one false move and hockey fans the world over will hate and despise movies in general, boycotting the genre and driving the big studios out of business. So what advice can a lowly, muscle-bound hockey columnist offer the high-falutin' world of big-budget cinema? Plenty.

Thing To Do#1: Pick an Awesome Villain: While the always-excellent Puck Daddy brilliantly covered who should play Avery (the obvious choice: that one guy from the Wedding Crashers! Holy crap, that guy would be perfect), he overlooked the driving force behind all chick flicks: an ominously evil supervillain. Hollywood has a huge advantage here, considering how many supremely evil babyeating devil-worshipers Avery has to deal with on a daily basis: Brodeur, Bettman, Ruutu, Tucker, Laraque. Hell, all New Line would need is a staff of scriptwriting hacks, and they could actually make a pretty decent martial arts movie out of this, with Avery having go go up against each baddie in succession until he finally met the Big Boss Himself in mano-y-mano combat: Jaromir Jagr. Added bonus: Czechs are all born with built-in Awesome Supervillain Names.

Added bonus: American audiences would never root for a crossdressing villain

Thing To Do#2: Be Realistic: Too often, Hollywood throws out the day-to-day problems average chick flick watchers face in order to create a world of unrealistic high-dollar fantasy. New Line needs to keep this in mind when they're making this movie: no one will believe it, for example, if an unpaid intern is somehow living in a massive apartment in the middle of Manhattan, spending hundreds if not thousands of dollars every day on expensive shoes and clothes. That kind of ridiculous premise may play out in the sticks, but those of us who don't have sexual intercourse with our tractors find that kind of pretense unacceptable. Unpaid interns at Vogue should be shown doing what they always have done for sustenance: drinking bottles of Chanel perfume and giving X-jobs to Michael Kors for half-eaten bologna-and-olive sandwiches.

Thing To Do#3: Play Up the Rebel-Without-a-Cause Angle: Chick flick heroes and heroines always have kooky jobs that allow them to express themselves artistically, but in a totally radical and revolutionary way. Julia Roberts, Matthew McConaughey, Hugh Grant: they play by their own rules, even if that means that they end up being attractive and personable workaholics with no time for romance of any kind. Chicks love that shit. Correction: they love that shit in the movies. Try dedicating two years to building your dream home out of moose feces and see how your wife likes it... not that I'm still bitter about that. Not at all! Let's just completely ignore the fact that moose feces is the asbestos of the future, and let's forget how amazingly plentiful it is in north central Texas! I like spending two hundred bucks a month for storage sheds for my dried bovine bowel biscuits! Cheezus!!

But I digress: chick flicks need rebels, and if Hollywood's not careful, they may blow this one. Avery needs to be cast in the light of someone who Plays By His Own Rules, the New Kid in Town who brings a the magic of dance to the stuck-up simple folk of the cultural backwater he's in, changing their lives in the process.

Make the magic happen, Hollywood!! That's it for this week's heavy-on-the-hockey Cupcheck. Tune in next week when Bollywood picks up the option on Not Without My Daughter: The Sarah Palin Story, one hockey mom's true story told through the medium of interpretive song and dance.