My wife has a few special talents – hors d'ouvers, bowling, Kama Sutra pages 23, 77, 92 and 140. She’s also great at balancing the checkbook and picking out things like shams and valances (which may be styles of shoes but I honestly have no idea). But she’s not an actress. No movies. No TV. No infomercials.
She played Dorothy in the elementary school's production of the Wizard of Oz, and my God can she bring on the drama over forgetting to pick up the dry cleaning. But can she act? No. So should I ever write a screenplay and make a movie, I would love to have her mental and financial support. But I would never put her in the picture. It would be downright cruel, both to viewers and to my wife alike, to expose such a weakness.
David Duchovny isn’t so nice.
Duchovny is married to actress Tea Leoni and Tea Leoni is a bore to watch. Her voice is weak and exasperated and she always looks like she just smelled a fart. She’s sexy, if you're into the meth addict look. She brings a level of excitement to her movies so low that you’d prefer her role be filled by a fish. A dead fish.
The good news is that the number of movies she’s been in is pretty low. After enduring a horribly horrible leading lady performance by Tea in Spanglish this weekend, I toned down my frustration by convincing myself that this would be the last of her sleepy acts. The bad news is that her husband now considers himself a director. A director of a movie that he also wrote. And who does the douche bag cast as the star of his new movie The House of D? Tea Leoni as the bereaved single mother.
It’s great to throw someone you love a bone, but the interesting cast that makes up this movie is now stuck with Tea. Rupaul would have been more convincing as a bereaved single mom, but apparently Duchovny’s wedding vows pomised to love, honor and employ. I can’t say I enjoy seeing Hollywood couples break up, but the sooner this guy sleeps with Angelina Jolie, the better.
