Review: American Dreamz

Call me old-fashioned, but I believe music belongs on the radio. I don't watch MTV or it's bastardized Canadian cousin, MuchMusic, I don't watch musicals (and I have a lot to say on that subject, believe me) and I don't watch American Idol. I don't need to see the people who are singing to me. Musicians don't need to prove to me that they are pretty. That's false talent, and helps people like Britney Spears and *N*Sync* (I don't care where it goes) become musical sensations. If your music is good, that's plenty good enough for me. Unfortunately, I am but one person, and everybody else seems to just loooove American Idol. They love the "drama", the "excitement", the "unpredictability" of reality TV, although we all know in our hearts that everything dramatic that happens is staged and edited together. The editors of these shows are the real heroes. Having to sit through hours of uninteresting footage to splice together 44 minutes of useable, gasp-inducing television can't be an easy job, and I don't envy them. But Steve, you say, American Idol is done live, how can that be faked? By pushing the audience towards the intended winners. I'll bet that all the winners had, during the audition process, been interviewed and featured long before they got to Hollywood. I couldn't tell you for sure, as I already mentioned, I don't watch the show. Never have, never will.

American Dreamz is a satire so broad in scope, yet so minutely detailed, I'm surprised the producers haven't been sued for copyright infringement. It tells a few simutaneous stories. The first is of a President (Dennis Quaid), who has lost touch with the world after winning re-election, and relies on his wife (Marcia Gay Harden) and Chief of Staff (Willem Dafoe) to keep the country running. The next is of an Iraqi (Sam Golzari) who is such a failure as a terrorist, he is sent to Orange County to live with his indulgent cousins where he sings show-tunes and waits for a sleeper cell to contact him. The third is of a middle class Ohio waitress (Mandy Moore) who has waited he whole life to be a star, leaving her sensitive boyfriend (Chris Klein) behind her. All of these stories converge on American Dreamz, the hottest show in America, with a 92% share rating, hosted by the crass and charming Martin Tweed (Hugh Grant). In order to remain on top of the ratings game, Tweed orders his minions to find him some "freaks". People to laugh at, cry with, masturbate to (his words, not mine). He wants an Arab and a Jew on his show, the former being our Iraqi, Omer, who is mistakenly invited on after producers see him singing show tunes in the basement. Sally Kendoo (Moore) is brought on after Tweed sense a kindred spirit within her Kendoo-can-do attitude and borderline sociopathic desire to win at all costs. The President is scheduled to appear as a guest judge on the season finale, in order to boost his approval ratings. Omer is contacted by his sleeper cell, having pieced this together, and tell Omer he must make it to the finals so he may martyr himself and blow up the President. "What if I don't make it to the final round?" Omer asks. "Folks don't call me 'The Torturer' because I don't like to torture people," he is told.

Meanwhile, Sally is being whipped into a media human interest tornado, with her boyfriend, freshly returned from a stint in Iraq, back in the picture, and ready to have heart-rending songs dedicated to him. And everybody is glued to their sets to see who "WHO!" will be crowned the next American Dreamer. Even the terrorists watching from tents in Iraq. Many current affairs are poked at in this film, not the least of which is the cold heartlessness of American reality TV. Also satirized to the breaking point is the idea that the President could somehow be manipulated by the people around him, because he is unable to make decisions for himself. Where did they get that notion, I wonder. The movie sometimes smacks of an overlong SNL sketch written by Jon Stewart. But at other points, the film is a spot-on look at everything that other countries must see when they look at America. The good and the bad. Nobody gets away scot-free here, and most compassionate character is the would-be Iraqi terrorist. There is much animosity surrounding this movie, people who don't like things pointed out to them that should be obvious. This movie took two things I don't like, American Idol and the U.S.'s foreign policy, and put them together somehow, allowing me to vent my frustrations in a tidy efficient manner. Thanks Paul Weitz, director of American Pie and About a Boy, you've saved me from all reality shows (except The Amazing Race, which is probably the guiltiest party in terms of creative editing, but I can't help it) past and future.

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