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The twisted mind behind “La La Land”

Mon, 15 Feb 2010 00:01:00 +0000

Marc Wootton is not a sociopath. He's a very nice guy who simply doesn't like psychics or racist Minutemen or narcissistic aspiring actors all that much, hence some of the more notorious scenes in his new Showtime comedy, "La La Land" (11 p.m. Mondays), now nearing the end of its six-episode run. Even so, when you watch one of Wootton's alter egos torment his chosen victims with the relish more typically found among house cats and vengeful jihadis, you will wonder about him.

In order to answer our own looming questions about Wootton, we spoke to him over the phone from London, which he says is quite dark and rainy, but there aren't really men in black trenchcoats lurking around every corner, anxious to slit your throat. We don't picture that anymore, though; thanks to Marc Wootton and Sasha Baron Cohen, these days we're pretty sure that London is filled with men in fake teeth and bad wigs, anxious to make us look like ignorant Americans!

If you wanted to explain to someone what the difference is between you and Sasha Baron Cohen, what would you say?

What to Watch: “La La Land”

Mon, 01 Feb 2010 14:30:00 +0000

If you've ever had an urge to push your rock-climbing buddy off the nearest cliff, then this very special murder-themed episode of Showtime's "La La Land" (11 p.m. Mondays) is just for you. Previewed in exquisite detail here, the second episode of Marc Wootton's stunning "Borat"-like comedy show is so deliciously evil that you simply cannot miss it, from the moment when an unwitting producer gives aspiring filmmaker Brendan Allen's plan to catch "blood splattering on the lens" a thumbs up to the deeply uncomfortable denouement, in which local park rangers arrive at the scene.

For a taste of the madness, here's a snippet of Allen from last week's episode:

“La La Land”: Move over, Borat!

Sun, 24 Jan 2010 02:01:00 +0000

Over the last 50 years, the American dream has shifted from the tangible realm of grassy front lawns and modest bungalows to something far more aspirational and evanescent, the notion that we might transcend the slog of ordinary life with some hazy blend of creative self-involvement and champagne at Sundance. The unspoken promise of a million social networking tools is that, with the right connections, we could all live like Steven Spielberg, briefly delivering a few choice words of wisdom about -- what else? -- the contents of our glorious heads, before returning home to our immaculate, spacious, shining palaces on the hill.

Back in reality, creative professionals of every stripe are pegged with the word "aspiring" well past their prime. Told again and again that every step forward requires the kindness of strangers, they reach self-consciously through the Internets toward strangers (who are, themselves, perpetually "aspiring") whose best advice is that they must continue to reach out, without shame, to more strangers, and hope for more kindness. At the end of this yellow brick road, even success feels like it was cobbled together from a series of favors and failures. "How did you manage it?" kind strangers will ask you, but really, they're just about to ask for a favor themselves.