tapmag thinks that the Eurovision Song Contest is a far too complex concept to be understood in American terms of entertainment shows. Americans watch American Idol to see good acts and funny rejection clips. Europeans tune in to Eurovision for a lot of reasons, but not to discover awe-inspiring new singers.

We want pseudofolkloristic bands in nonsense costumes, eurotrash glam from the Balkans, a sense of socially shared television moments that has been long gone since the Internet arrived, and of course one of the last places being reserved for Germany.

The Eurovision Song Contest is meta-show that allows us Europeans to reflect on our own awkward cultural backgrounds, giving us a chance to come to terms with the lowbrow elements of European culture. By laughing about our neighbors’ ridiculous ideas of a good show, we establish connections that foster understanding and solidarity which transcends borders.

But of course, it’s far easier to denounce this expression of humility, humanity and the understanding of dignity that arises from it as the simple lack of musical talent. Kent Jones, a little humbleness suits everyone, especially Americans.

As a vehicle for pro-life propaganda, Juno is a Trojan horse. It won over liberal hearts, and somehow managed to smuggle in its conservative baggage. It is not, as accommodating film critic Roger Ebert suggested, a masterpiece. The only thing it does masterfully is conceal it’s fundamentalism from moderate audiences. For that, it deserves recognition.

Many liberals were simply too charmed by the film to admit it was pro-life. “Why do you think that?” a ladyfriend of mine asked. As I waffled through my rehearsed arguments, she glared at me, as if I, the spoiler and politicizer of everything great and innocent, was once again trying to ruin something for her. “I would say it’s pro-life,” I further pontificated, “but I refuse to use the enemy’s jargon.”  I was surprised how few of my fellow lefties agreed with me. After all, the plot leaves little room for interpretation.

Juno MacGuff is an irreverent, 16-year-old tomboy, wise beyond her years though not entirely immune to the salacious pitfalls of youth. Despite having been subjected to stringent sex education (as a flashback reveals), Juno gets pregnant. Quite nonchalantly, her first impulse is to get an abortion (they’re all the rage on campus, it seems).

Before the doors of her local clinic, Juno runs into a pro-life protester. It’s Su-Chin, a classmate of Juno’s, who has the endearing tendency of mispronouncing English words (“All babies want to get borned!”).  Anyone who has witnessed a pro-life rally will attest to the fact that docile and sweet participants are more the exception than the rule. (The last such protest I witnessed was outside the democratic convention in Denver. The group in question was shouting “Obama Babykiller”, while a truck circled the block, sporting an enormous picture of a late-term fetus that looked like it had been char-grilled, stir-fried and drowned in Tabasco.)

Su-Chin, on the other hand, is soft-spoken and sensitive. “Your baby has a beating heart, you know? It can feel pain…and it has fingernails,” she yelps innocently as Juno enters the clinic. The latter detail clearly resonates with Juno, as incorrect as it may be.

The pro-choice crowd doesn’t receive quite as good a rap in the film. When Juno enters the clinic, she is entering their realm, and it’s not a pretty place. The receptionist is a vulgar, pierced insensitive nihilist (the screenplay lists her as “Punk Receptionist”). While hacking away at a portable game console, she lazily recites what appears to be the Clinic’s mission statement, “Welcome to Women Now, where women are trusted friends. Please put your hands where I can see them and surrender any bongs.” This scene is sure to put the fear of god into any aspiring abortionist. The procedure is shown to be intrusive (“we need to know of every score and every sore”) and depraved. (“Would you like a free condom?” punk secretary asks. “They’re boysenberry…my boyfriend wears them every time we have intercourse, it makes his junk smell like pie.”)

“I’m off sex,” Juno tells Punk Receptionist. The grave consequences of unprotected copulation have turned our hero Juno off the protected kind as well. She has learned a lesson; in abstinence. How convenient.

As Juno sits down to fill out her form, the sound of tapping fingernails overwhelms the diagetic world of the screen. She turns around to see her fellow abortionists (these, by the way, are the only African-Americans you’ll see in this film) tapping away at their boards with a glib sense of routine. Nearby, fingernails are being filed. The sounds blend together into a terrifying chorus, haunting Juno like the Telltale Heart. She bursts out of the clinic. “God appreciates your miracle,” Su-Chin shouts ecstatically.

“It smelled like a dentist office in there,” Juno tells her friend, “The magazines were covered in water stains,” small details that might well make teenage skin crawl. The whole experience has informed our even-handed heroine’s decision. “I’m staying pregnant….but maybe they’ll, like, canonize me for being so selfless.” And they do. The filmmakers bestow a saintly temperament on their lead character. She does nothing objectionable or mean-spirited; her only bad decision precedes the film’s narrative. Thus, her way is the right one.

Juno’s parents are frank, earthy, hearty characters; everyday American heroes.  Though their party affiliation goes unmentioned, there are subtle indicators that they are culturally conservative. They are also somewhat quirky and irreverent to take the edge off their conservatism (or, rather, to give them an edge.) Her father is a veteran, small businessman and traditionalist (“that guy with the ponytail…he just doesn’t look right to me”) or simply the most reliable demographic of the Republican Party.  The stepmother is a feisty nail-care specialist with a penchant for tame profanity and Jesus talk.

When Juno tells her parents of her intention to offer the baby up for adoption, we hear the last mention of abortion in the film. “Have you considered the alternative?” her stepmother asks. “No,” Juno replies. “Well.” the stepmother grins approvingly, “you’re a little Viking!” One wonders whether the news of a pending abortion would have garnered similar praise. After discouraging abortion, the film has offered a viable alternative.

The film doesn’t make the mistake of an essay film, by endlessly moralizing or sacrificing entertainment for the sake of its broad message. Thus even its most propagandistic elements are packaged in snappy, irreverent dialogue. The most pious thoughts are deeply embedded in edgy conversations.

Mac MacGuff: “Did you see that coming?”

Bren MacGuff: “Yeah… but I was hoping she was expelled, or into hard drugs.”

Mac MacGuff: “Or a DWI… anything but this.”

Bren MacGuff: “Think of it this way: Somebody else is going to find a precious blessing from Jesus, in this garbage dump of a situation.”

The adoptive parents that Juno seeks out are an interesting case study. Vanessa and Mark Loring are an attractive, thirty-something couple that enjoy quite an affluent lifestyle. Early on, the film establishes Vanessa as the more invested of the two, and the more traditional. These two things go hand in hand. “I was born to be a mother,” she states with great pride. Her husband isn’t quite as settled in his gender-specific template. “Yeah…everyone wants to be a dad,” he says, with an undertone of sarcasm. Ultimately, the film demonizes Mark for being unsure whether he wants to be a father. His unwillingness to settle down, his rebelliousness, are treated as symptoms of egotism and irresponsibility. The same scenario could have been shown in a very different way. Instead, Vanessa could have been shown coercing Mark into the adoption (she is after all, a little baby-crazy). By making her crass traditionalism a positive asset, the filmmakers issue a statement of purpose.

Yet, many credible observers saw in the film the stirrings of feminism. A.O. Scott of the New York Times described it as a “feminist, girl-powered rejoinder.” On her blog, The Feminist Spectator, Jill Dollan, English Professor at Princeton University, gave the film similar blessings.

Each declined to mention Vanessa Loring’s mantra of ‘motherhood as only aspiration in life.’ It wouldn’t have complimented their point. After all, Vanessa is entrusted with the baby specifically because she is such a traditional female. Her unwavering dedication qualifies her. The baby doesn’t seem to stand in the way of any of her future ambitions, because it is her sole ambition.

The film culminates in the deliverance of the baby. For the first time in the film, Juno MacGuff is shown visibly uncomfortable. For nine months she has enjoyed perfect skin, good moods and relative painlessness (early on in the film she is shown throwing up into a vase; I wish I could puke with such poise.) Very few pregnancies run this seamlessly. Whether this is the intentional glamorization of the alternative to abortion, or simply another Hollywood convention is not entirely clear. It does, however, fit a greater pattern.

A friend of mine suggested that the film was pro-choice precisely because Juno enjoyed a choice. “She decided to have the baby; decided is the key word there.” All pro-life arguments made today, are made in the knowledge that the process is legal today. If Juno were to play in a post Roe v. Wade America, the main character would have had to make the choice between illegal abortion and legal pregnancy (coathanger vs. fabulous nails). In this film she has to make the choice between causing “pain” to an embryo with “fingernails” and a “beating heart” or helping somebody else “receive a precious blessing from Jesus.”

The filmmakers mislead Juno into keeping the baby. They create an unaccommodating, depraved abortion clinic, a sensitive pro-lifer and a false set of facts to further deter the young girl. Juno, our Identifikationsfigur, our moral standard-bearer, makes the right decision given the facts she is presented. Unfortunately they are false. Su-Chin’s lies (two month old embryos neither have fingernails nor the necessary neurons to feel pain) are never debunked. Therefore, in the film’s reality, they remain facts. Not knowing that these are misleading, could lead a logical person to agree with the pro-life argument. They make abortion seem like murder. This isn’t choice, this is coercion.

When laid out on paper, Juno’s plot seems conservative. This is obscured by characters, whose profanity, cynical intonations and musical tastes seem decidedly liberal. Modern conservatism has so long been the antithesis (or sworn enemy) of everything hip and cutting edge, that any piece of art that achieves a certain level of irreverence automatically seems left wing. (The fact that the comedian Adam Sandler votes Republican, for instance, struck me as decidedly counter-intuitive.) It is just utterly difficult to fight conventions while bowing to the Ultimate One.

The left wing has long held a monopoly on all things young and fresh. Juno is a sign that conservatives are at least capable of encroaching on that territory. My fawning liberal friends are living proof.

By Leon Dische Becker

Leon Dische Becker is studying History at Bard College and graduating this May. His Senior Project is called “The Myth of an Independent Ostpolitik”, which discusses the level of American control over German foreign policy during Willy Brandt’s chancellorship. He also blogs here.

It’s good vs. evil, it’s humanity vs. the devil himself, it’s, well, read for yourself what the Army officer played by Brad Pitt has to say:

“We’re going to be dropped into France, dressed as civilians. We’re going to do one thing and one thing only – killin’ Nazis!”

“Members of the National Socialist Party conquered Europe to murder, torture, intimidation, and terror. And that’s exactly what we’re gonna do to them. We will be cruel to the German and due to our cruelty they will know who we are. They will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disembowed, dismembered and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us.”

“The German will be sickened by us. The German will talk about us. And the German will fear us. Nazi ain’t got no humanity. They need to be destroyed.  Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred Nazi scalps. And I want my scalps!”

Nazis are the new zombies. They don’t eat brains, but babies. They are fun to kill, and it’s totally guilt-free. They are easily recognizable by the weird noises they make. They feature a very distinctive look that is a great dress up for Halloween (of course, this doesn’t apply for members of the Royal Family). They are a movie cliché and spur their own tribute spoofs.

Isn’t it about time that the new subgenre “Nazigore” (there are already 13,500 google hits) is introduced by the video shop owners of this world?

Here’s the trailer for Tarantino’s new kill-the-Nazi movie “Inglourious Basterds” [sic!]:

Inglourious Basterds – Theatrical Trailer

(via Ben Perry)

The nearly two-million-people following thronged the inauguration, each spectator defying the unendurable cold, and massive chaos in order to be able to utter three magic words: “I Was There!” Each one sincerely hoping that the substance of those words will become only more awe-inspiring in four or eight years.

Before even taking office, Obama is a worshipped symbol in the same league as Che Guevara, Martin Luther King, or John F. Kennedy. Among thousands of ingenious paintings of Obama, Shepard Fairey’s already iconic red-blue portrait of Obama, echoing Andy Warhol’s mass production art, has come to incarnate the transformation of the president from politician to pop icon. In the streets around The Mall on Tuesday, you could buy t-shirts, dolls, badges, and even condoms (!) bearing Obama’s name, while protest groups against Jesus, for Jesus, against homosexuality, and for homosexuality fought for the passer-bys’ attention.

Everywhere, Obama’s “fans” (they do indeed seem to be much more than merely voters) could be overheard talking of him in high-pitched terms, a bit too reminiscent of sectarian rhetoric. Then again: Who can blame people for embracing hope and change, as if it came from Jesus himself, when they are in the middle of two wars and economic despair, and have just gotten rid of a president, who leaves office just as unpopular as the criminalized former president Richard Nixon did? The immense excitement is in that sense much more than a psychological observation of mass and media hysteria.

On the one hand, the profound worshipping is paradoxical. Obama has stressed time and time again how his campaign was about the American people and not about himself, and, yet, he has become a mythical figure. He has pointed out the people as the true carriers of change, and they have pointed right back at him. But at the same time, people see themselves in the image of him. Obama has created a sense of solidarity, and a willingness to sacrifice, which was clearly felt in the Capital’s streets during the inaugural events. Walking in the city’s broad, car-empty highways with hordes of people on Tuesday was like being in a catastrophe movie, only with hope instead of fear leading the march.

While the freezing temperatures did prevent an unrestrained street party to break out, the genuine and persistent enthusiasm was in itself impressive. Thousands of people waited outside eight to ten hours in order to see the big parade from front row, while thousands more waited several hours to get just a three second view of the leading character through fences and spectator stands. Far more people had volunteered to help out around the city than were needed. It was all about being there, even though, for most people, that meant seeing the swearing in on a jumbotron far, far away from the main stage on Capitol.

Luckily, “No Drama Obama” is well aware that, in the long run, the intense fandom can quickly evaporate if political results do not materialize. In press conferences before his inauguration, as well as in his inaugural address, his rhetoric was relatively somber, doing his best to sound like what he is: A political, rather than a spiritual, leader. Many people will undoubtedly have a hard time taking this fact in, when this – through political compromises and less popular decisions – becomes obvious over the next four years. And the pundits will, with some delight, say that Obama isn’t all he was cracked up to be.

By Jacob Ludvigsen

Jacob Ludvigsen is a film critic, has a BA in Media Studies from the University of Copenhagen, and is currently a graduate student at the University of Maryland.

In the good tradition of lists at the end of the year, we bring you the most memorable moments of the already historic 2008 US Presidential election. One media phenomenon was especially salient—Sarah Palin, who will be remembered for putting both hockey moms and Wasilla, Alaska on the political map.

She also sparked a movement of Sarah Palin lookalikes and video spoofs, that succeeded to push the frenzy of Obama music videos from the youtube agenda. The magnitude of her online appeal is so great that after the election, American video websites like Hulu.com have seen their traffic drop due to a post-Sarah-Palin slump.

So, without further ado, our ten favorite videos with or inspired by the moose hunter of the year. Tell us about your favorites and suggest more videos in the comments. Merry Christmas everyone!

1. Sarah Palin herself

2. Tina Fey on SNL
If you can’t watch the clip, read here how to bypass the regional limitation.

3. Is McCain Sarah Palin’s bitch?

4. From Russia with Love

5. Terry Tate: Reading is Fundamental
Note: Might be funnier if you know Terry’s other clips.

6. McCain/Obama Dance Off

7. Obama Girl does Palin

8. Paper Planes Palin

9. The Daily Show: McCain picks Running Mate

10. Sarah Palin at a turkey farm

Now open to the common people, the new American Embassy in Berlin. And by open we mean you may now enter the twenty meters security zone and touch the sand colored granite walls of this maximum-security diplomatic outpost. Sources say, it’s so secure in there, the ambassador has to use the restrooms of Hotel Adlon next door, because no one knows where they are located in the Embassy.

Yesterday, Angela Merkel and George H.W. Bush went to see for themselves. Result: Total satisfaction, German-American relationships strong as ever before, and the Americans make a triumphant return to the center of a unified German capital. And all that on a Fourth of July.

The smell of history kept lingering in the air today. Germans, Americans and visitors from all over the world could still notice it, while taking a bite from their free beef jerky. Right behind them the travel offices of West Virginia, the Deep South and the Capital Region had set up shop; looking at the prices these days, most passersby figured that the Baltic Sea isn’t so bad after all.

Real authentic American Sports were on display: Football, Cheerleading, Break dance, and the king of it all – Segway riding. Politics was present too, Republicans and Democrats Abroad shared a tent (hooray for bi-partisanship), clearly demonstrating who has the German public’s sympathies. While the Democrats had to fill balloon after balloon for German Obamamaniacs, the Republican side looked deserted and somewhat pitiful (yet those present at the booth were of high hopes, check back for a full interview with a Republican and a Democratic Berliner).

Leaving the transatlantic Volksfest we look back at a US-themed, Bratwurst flavored family party. The attendees presented their version of the US, with the holy trinity of Indians, Fast Food and SUVs.

For some impressions, consider our photo gallery.

[Show as slideshow]

Following Will.I.Am’s wildly popular “Yes We Can,” featuring soul saint John Legend, basketball legend Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and the angelic Scarlett Johansson (just to name a few), TI$A (from the superior, but much overlooked, hip-hop/r’n'b producer/writer/super group Sa-Ra Creative Partners) drops another MTV/Hollywood gem to keep the election spectacle vibrant.

This time around, Obama is backed by R&B young ‘un Chris Brown, and hip-hop icons Jay-Z and Kanye West (really, just to name a few!).

In what is likely to go down in Election-’08-history as probably the most neo-artsy-add’o'lescent-chic contribution (don’t fret if you don’t know the word, I just made it up!), probably one thing stands out more than the neon-rocking dancers: the demographics! Predominantly African-American, young and “hip” (I struggle to not add the “hop”) voters.

Admitted, I can picture 55-year-old Sam from Bucks County, PA, driving home from the daily treadmill singing his heart out to the tunes of “Hot 4 Hill,” but I just can’t see him do the bump ‘n grind with the missus, or hanging out with his buddies on the front porch, to the sounds of “We hood, we votin’, and throwing it uuup!” (as much as MTV would like us to think that the elderly actually do that).

In effect, this could become indicative of the challenges facing the future Democratic presidential candidate. If Obama is elected, will Hillary’s “Sams” look to the Republicans for an encore (I propose: “Insane 4 McCain”)? If Hillary is elected, will Obama’s “TI$As” choose to dance it out in the streets rather than duke it out in the voting booths? Basically, will either candidate be able to beat their (wanted or unwanted) demographic pigeonholing as the clock winds down on the Dems?

While I can already see the Berlin club kids dying to jump on this bandwagon, I’m looking long and hard for the Hillary voters “up in this…”

By Peter Dahl

However, some of us are already looking further than christmas, since they will be in New York for New Year’s! To get into the spirit, I compiled a little list with my favourite music videos of New York City ever. Please feel free to add yours in the comments, I will try to update the list accordingly.

1: Andrew Thompson – “There Must Be Some Kind of Misunderstanding”

2: Nas – “Nas Is Like”
3: The Rapture – “Wayuh”

4: Method Man ft. Mary J. Blige – “I’ll Be There For You”

5: Pet Shop Boys – “New York City Boy”
6: Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five – “The Message”
7: Beastie Boys – “Open Letter to NYC”
8: Moby ft. Debbie Harry – “New York, New York”
Update:
Since there is no real music video of Frank Sinatra’s classic, enjoy this scene with Gene Kelly from the movie “On The Town.”
A good collection of all sorts of NYC vintage videos can be found on the site of the New York Magazine. Take a look here.Happy Holidays everyone!Kolja