Carell seems to have made it his life's work to describe, in word and motion, exactly what's going on with American men that makes them so fucking hard to deal with -- and makes things so hard for them to deal with. His depiction of the male interior as a physical place -- constantly assailed by fears, attacks imagined and real, and overall desperate confusion -- around which his persona and machismo are stretched, light and thin as paper, is never harder to watch than when it's got a mirror pointed at it. There's a commonality and transcendent humanity in his work, and a devilish humor, that accomplishes his intention -- to indict and comfort with the same awkward hand -- brilliantly, and has inspired the next generation of truth-seeking satirists. I've had a huge crush on this man since the early days of the Daily Show, but I had no idea how far he was going to take it. His performances are like My So-Called Life II: The Secret So-Called Life Of Boys.PS: Updated to add the linky part. Duh.
Friday, August 10, 2007
I rarely watch the tube and had never seen this blog before today (again with the serendipitous clickage during work breaks), but Jacob Clifton's Emmy roundup contained the following awesome treatise on why Steve Carell needs to win for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Comedy Series: