Word: genericism
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...course, the bouncing Irish return to claim their stage. But the most egregious offense comes a few acts later. A group of African-American dancers saunter onto stage wearing black (get it! get it!) and start to boogie--and I mean exaggerated, highly offensive, stereotypical "boogie-ing"--to the generic beats of a sunglasses-wearing saxophone player. A second later, a group of beautiful blond Irish dancers all wearing white (aha!) enter stage left to start a little friendly competition with these upstarts. It's embarrassing. But the audience ate it up. Even more embarrassing...
...York City--scrambling to find an apartment, deposited (temporarily) by her employer in what is, truth be told, a pretty crappy office. Inoffensive museum posters hang on the wall; the painted metal and laminate desk is bare of much but a Poland Spring bottle and a phone; a generic screen saver plays across the monitor of a generic PC. In the middle of an interview, her phone rings. And rings. She rises apologetically and answers it herself. "It's what I'm used to doing," she says...
...Mount Rainier last August. With ice picks and crampons, ropes and harnesses, they began the final grueling ascent at 2 a.m., in white-out conditions, hail and high winds. They summited six hours later. Gore, who hasn't told that story publicly, has been closing his speeches with a generic bit about standing on the summit--"You can see a long way, but you can't see every day that will dawn." But he chose the wrong metaphor. He'd better hope the symbol of his campaign turns out to be that death-defying climb...
...capable of funky, fresh guitar taps and witty, slapping basslines, while Shepherd's vocals are perfect for slow-paced, harmonica-wielding songs, as the Clapton-like "Losing Kind" reveals. But the traces of good musicianship, well-timed vocals and beat progression in Live On are dwarfed by the generic nature of the album...
...mood of the film doesn't help the matter. Defined by the triteness of the setting (a generic middle-America suburb/commercial center) and the over-exaggerated antics of the actors, the tone is downright campy, a far cry from the insightful and sharply satirical mood of the novel. Bruce Willis as Dwayne Hoover takes an unfortunate step backwards from his performance in The Sixth Sense by making a complete ass of himself. (Perhaps this is a sign that he should go back to doing Die Hard-type fare.) The rampant television commercials advertising Dwayne's cars? Mind-numbingly annoying...