Monday, February 28, 2011

Franco Hathaway, Epic Fail


New York Magazine said it best:
''Franco is from Mars, Hathaway is from Venus
If Franco and Hathaway's oppositional approaches to hosting had been set up from the very beginning as the comedic heart of their partnership — spaced-out, jaded, eye-rolling Franco having to put up with manic, yelping, enthusiastic Hathaway; energetic, game Hathaway having to encourage Franco to get into the spirit — it might have worked as a comedy routine in the Burns-Allen mold. Instead it was like watching two people operating in alternate realities (or having two very different drug experiences), with the distance between them expanding and expanding as the show went on. Hathaway committed, and committed hard. She sang, she emoted, she projected. Franco, meanwhile, went blank-slate, projecting nothing except expressions verging on outright disdain. As he got more and more ironic, she got more and more worked up. He may have kept his cool (and tweeted up a storm), but why take this job if you're not going to try? And he left Hathaway hanging in the wind, exposed as a Rachel Berry in front of 100 million people.''

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