Cinderella

Slipper? I hardly knew her. Sorry, I had to get that out of my system.

I had a little moment of indecision about what heading to place this post under. At first I was going to publish it as part of my wildly successful, universally acclaimed and almost award-winning Guilty Pleasures series. But then I reminded myself that my macho self-esteem is well intact, and there was no reason to post it there. It deserves to be highlighted on its own.

So here's the bottom line: two days ago I saw Cinderella. And I loved it. It is a spectacular film and a welcome return to form for Disney Studios.

The Cinderella story has always been derided by feminists for many reasons, not the least of which is that Cinderella waits for a man to take her away from her stepmother, evil stepsisters and horrible life she's living.

The movie I saw was about acceptance, forgiveness, empowerment, staying true to your values and choosing the life you want to lead. Cinderella stays at her home because it's her home. It's also the last place where her father was, and it has great sentimental and emotional value to her.

She stays true to the values she learned from her dying mother - have courage, be kind - even under the most punishing test of them doled out by her stepmother (played by the unfairly talented Cate Blanchett).

She doesn't go to the ball looking for a man or a husband. She goes to escape her circumstances for one magical evening, and to reconnect with the man she met in the forest and obviously had great chemistry with.

The movie is pitch perfect in its tone, not an easy thing to accomplish considering how easily fairy tales can devolve into sugary pap. The emotion of it all sneaks up on you, although, full disclosure, I am a sap and a pushover for romance.

The film makes its points in its own way, without being preachy or trying to be politically correct. It's also a stunningly beautiful movie to watch. You could literally take any frame and hang it as a painting. It is lush, detailed and magical. Kenneth Branaugh has done an outstanding job directing.

Contrary to what you might think, it's not a chick-flick. It's a story with powerful lessons for both sexes about character, commitment, self-respect and what's really important in life.

I can't wait to see it again.

Hopefully before midnight. I hear things get a little strange any later than that.

Bad form

I hate form letters, regardless what form they come in.

I just received one from someone I used to work for. It starts off, "Hi Jeff, my name is (HIS NAME) and as one of my connections I wanted to connect with you..." Blah blah blah.

I wouldn't have used the word connect so close to the word connections. That's just me.

Because this person does know me, I think a better idea would've been to cull through his network and personalize his communication to the people he actually knows. I've known him twelve years. I worked for him. He unceremoniously let me go, then washed his hands of it. Then he didn't bother returning any of my calls or emails.

Does he really think I forgot his name?

Don't get me started.

Anyway, I don't like form letters from faceless corporations, and I like them even less from people I know. They're just one more way the world is depersonalizing communication, while trying to give the impression it's very personal. Meant just for you.

It's the direct mail piece you're holding that addresses you by name. You know, the one five-hundred thousand other people got. It's the human-sounding software that uses voice-recognition to get your credit card balance and answer your questions.

Form letters are the equivalent of saying, "I don't really care, but I want to look like I do." They're a lot like my high school girlfriend that way.

Over the years, like all of us, I've received form letters from publishers rejecting my work, banks rejecting my loan application and potential employers rejecting my resume. I've also gotten them from publishers telling me I might already be a winner, credit card companies telling me I'm pre-approved and politicians earnestly trying to have a conversation with me one-on-one.

Actually one-on-twenty million.

In order for a letter not to be a form letter, the sender has to know you. Not know something about you that can be gleaned from your spending habits or website visits. But know you.

I think the feeling they're shooting for is the one you get when you eat at your local coffee shop and they ask, "The usual?" I'm pretty sure they're not going for, "Your hold time will be seventeen minutes."

I understand the convenience of a form letter, especially when you have hundreds of connections. It's the easy way out. And while I don't like being on the receiving end, more than most people I appreciate easy.

So anyway dear (NAME), I want to thank your for taking your valuable time to read this post. I know you're busy with raising (NUMBER) children, maintaining (NUMBER) cars and traveling (NUMBER) miles to work and back each day. I hope you'll find time on (DAY & DATE) to read my next post.

Feels good, doesn't it?

Teachable moment

The beauty of working in advertising is agencies continually offer you ways to keep learning.

They want you to grow creatively and intellectually. They believe if your horizons are widened, you'll have a deeper well to draw ideas from. It's one of the many ways they nurture, grow and invest in their employees.

Nah, I'm just messing with you. They don't give a shit.

Still, as you go through the agency day, there's no shortage of teachable moments. You just have to have a little situational awareness, keep your eyes and ears open and be willing to recognize them.

For example, the first time you go over budget on a spot.

The first time you're at a client meeting and your work sells but the creative director's doesn't.

When you park in one of the executive's spaces.

The day that campaign you slaved over wins a Gold Pencil, and you find out your name wasn't even on the entry form.

Giving the creative director an honest answer when they ask "What do you think?"

Giving the client an honest answer when they ask "What do you think?"

Asking the planner if they know account people actually used to do their job.

There are many, many more examples. But here's the point. Every waking, breathing moment in an agency is a teachable one. You can learn about people, what makes them tick, anger management, how to approach sensitive topics and exactly what's required to look busy as a new business prospect tours the agency.

There's no doubt about it. It's some of the best preparation for when you get a real job.

His aim is true

There's a special running on cable right now called Elvis Costello: Mystery Dance. As you might expect, it deals with the life and career of the other Elvis.

Like most people, the first time I heard Elvis was on his album, My Aim Is True. Alison was the number one hit, and I loved it. So when Elvis came to the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, along with Nick Lowe and Link Wray, I was in.

I don't remember much about how the music sounded. What I remember most is that after about a twenty-five minute set, Elvis kicked over one of the giant speakers and stormed offstage. Punk movement. Angry young man. You get the picture.

I've seen Elvis many, many times since. And I'm always in awe of two things: how prolific a songwriter he is, and his endless versatility. From rock, to jazz, to country to classical, Elvis attacks every genre and infuses it with originality and the uniqueness of his sound.

One of the great concerts the wife and I went to was Elvis with the Brodsky Quartet at Royce Hall. We sat sixth row center, right in front of Jackson Browne (maybe if he had some connections he could've gotten better seats). My wife used to play classical violin, and she loves Elvis. So this was the perfect concert for her.

It was perfect for everyone. It was exceptional.

A few years ago, Elvis opened for Sting at the Hollywood Bowl. During that performance, he invited the fifteen-thousand people there to a free midnight show he was doing at the El Rey Theater later that night.

I don't have many regrets, but not showing up at the El Rey at midnight that night is definitely one of them.

Anyway, just a quick post to say I love his music.

And I'm pretty confident he won't be leaving the building anytime soon.

Walt's Wharf

Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. Then, sometimes, you want to go where no one knows your name but you want to go there anyway.

I like to think of myself as someone who likes to mix it up every now and again. Who maintains an air of unpredictability. An edge of danger. I keep spontenaity alive.

I also like to think of myself as six-foot three, one eighty, blond and ripped. But that's not happening either.

Come to find out I'm actually a creature of habit. Today we met some friends for lunch at one of my favorite places, Walt's Wharf in Seal Beach. It's been there forever, and it's always great. At least what I always order is. Because despite a wide variety of fresh seafood, and a wine selection second to none, I have the exact same meal every time I eat there.

Cup of clam chowder with Tabasco. Small Walt's salad with a salmon filet on top. Iced tea. I wanted you to know in case you're buying.

It's a sure thing every time. The problem is I feel like I should try something else. Logic would tell me if my usual choice is so good, other items must be just as good if not better. On the heels of that, I think this meal makes me happy and what am I so worried about.

Besides, since when did I start living my life according to logic? Not a Vulcan, hello.

I'm not going to say feeling bad for having the same great meal at a nice seafood restaurant is a first world problem, but, you know, draw your own conclusions.

Here's what I'm trying to say. If you want to meet me for lunch at Walt's, and you happen to be in a hurry, don't worry. I know what I'm having.

Say my McName

SPOILER ALERT: If you didn't see last Thursdays's Grey's Anatomy, and by some miracle haven't heard about it, don't read this until you see it. Important plot points revealed.

As some of you may already know, my nickname in high school was McDreamy. I believe it was because of my rugged good looks, silky smooth hair, razor-sharp sense of humor, keen insights and rugged good looks. Did I mention that?

But that all changed when Shonda Rhimes, creator of Grey's Anatomy, decided to also have Patrick Demsey's character Derek Shepard go by the nickname McDreamy.

As you can imagine, it was a confusing time for my friends and family.

I was hopeful after seeing last Thursday's episode, where an eighteen-wheeler and some ill-prepared hospital residents send Derek Shepard off to take the big dirtnap after eleven years on the show, that I'd be able to once again enjoy the moniker that was rightfully mine.

But like my acting career and engagement to Scarlett Johansson, it was not to be.

After all this time, the power of network television has rendered the name McDreamy solidly associated with Patrick Demsey's character. And even though he's gone from the show, I'm sure there will be flashbacks, daydreams and hallucinations that include him in coming episodes. I'm afraid I have to face the reality that the nickname McDreamy, the one that was mine first, is going to die with him when he's eventually gone for good.

In spite of my rugged good looks.

Anyway, we move forward. Today begins the search for a new nickname I can be proud of. One that reflects my true being, my inner self, and, say it with me, my rugged good looks.

So far the only contender is something along the lines of McJeffy.

I'm already sorry I wrote that.

The pleasure that is Platt

There's an entire class of actors I feel are underrated. They're usually something more than character actors, yet somewhat less than lead actors.

It's in this sweet spot that Oliver Platt lives. He's been one of my favorites for years.

Whether it's White House lead counsel in The West Wing, Warren Beatty's nervous, cocaine-fueled campaign manager in Bulworth, acidic restaurant critic Ramsey Michel in last year's Chef or Cameron's gay bowling adversary on last night's Modern Family, Platt's characters are fully realized, unique and completely organic. He couldn't make a false move if he tried.

Full disclosure: years ago I started writing a television show for Platt before my complete lack of discipline did me in. Again. I'm working on it, okay? Back off.

Anyway, it was about two lawyers who were also brothers. One went to prestigious Harvard law school, and the other went to the Saul Goodman law school in Samoa. Through a series of events, they wind up in practice together, and the néer-do-well brother winds up teaching his Harvard grad broheim a thing or two about the real meaning of the law.

Along the way, hilarity ensues.

Like so many other projects of mine languishing in a drawer or on a disc somewhere, I never finished writing it. But each time I see Oliver Platt onscreen, my muse is rekindled and I start thinking about maybe easing into working on it again.

He deserves a great show of his own, and I'd like to be the one to create it for him.

Like Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Gene Hackman, John Cazale, Jon Polito, Michael McKean and a dozen more, Oliver Platt's presence in a project elevates it far beyond where it would've been without him.

Of course now that I've spilled the beans on the lawyer/brother idea, I'll have to come up with something else.

I'll do my best to make it worthy of him.