Fug File: GQ

Fug or Funny the Cover: Amy Schumer on GQ


Oh, this photo shoot. I don’t have a problem with provocative humor, but I prefer it when it’s got a clever spin to it – something beyond a basic Beavis-like chortle: Heh-heh, droid three-way — and my beef is that I can’t really find that here in this package. This is just… Star Wars fever meets Trainwreck meets people’s incessant fascination with whether Amy Schumer is a trainwreck, with the smallest drizzle of that feeling you get when you watch Showgirls and realize Elizabeth Berkeley is not on everyone else’s page. Like, is Amy Schumer still controlling whatever this joke is, or is she — however unintentionally — becoming the butt of it? Some of the pics are at least benign in their semi-pointlessness, like the cantina recast as something out of Coyote Ugly, or Princess Leia in a cab with her iPhone and her entourage, but they’re just the filling in a club sandwich where the bread is made of EYEROLL.

The cover itself is fine — dumb, sure, but it doesn’t bother me quite like some of the inside pics. Can’t Amy Schumer be the funniest person in the galaxy without fellating a light sabre? Please? Her sketches are incisive and insightful. Is this? I don’t really think so. It’s more like something an editor was yearning for an excuse to do because he grew up with a poster of Leia in that bikini on his bedroom ceiling, and once wrote a Listicle about how C-3P0 experiences pleasure. I know Amy built her career on the back of a certain fearless raunch, with jokes about sex and all manner of other things, and she did a mock version of this at GQ’s behest with saucy cover lines that appear to poke fun at the lad-mag genre (in which the Trainwreck Amy works). So maybe you could argue the art direction itself is an affectionate mockery of the medium. The problem is, if that was the case, it didn’t translate. It doesn’t really FEEL like parody. Rather, it transmits as a wannabe-titillating stunt that undercuts the compliment they’re paying her. I wish the validity of a woman’s comedy resume didn’t so often hinge on her readiness to pander to this crowd. Amy obviously may not care, of course; she’s doing fine for herself, and if this is genuinely her jam, then great, live your bliss. But I wonder if it’s ever EXHAUSTING. And the risk is that this box becomes the only place anyone wants to put you. I get that playing into it has gotten her this far, but sometimes when you pile on, all you get is clutter.

[Photos: GQ]

 

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Your Afternoon Man: Jon Hamm on GQ, April 2015


Did I squeak with undignified joy when I saw this cover?

GQ April Cover

Yes. Yes, I did. Will I perhaps purchase it solely to place it on my coffee table, so that I have some Dapper Handsomeness in my living room at all times? Yes, yes, I will. (Not to be confused with Draper Handsomeness. They’re very visually similar, but one of them is much, much more self-destructive.) Did Heather forward me the email containing this cover the instant it hit our in-box with a note saying, “I feel like this was destined for you — NAY, shot for you?” Yes, yes, she did.

But I would argue that this is for all of us.

[Photo: GQ]

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GQ Men of the Year: Fugs and Fabs of the Dudes


It just seemed fitting to give them their own post, when the whole event is NAMED after men.

[Photos: Splash]

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GQ Man of the Year: Fugs and Fabs of the Ladies


If anyone here has seen Office Space, know that the first several dresses in this slideshow are the PC Load Letter of my soul.

[Photos: Splash]

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Fug the Cover: Taylor Lautner


It makes sense that Taylor Lautner doesn’t want to spend his life being That Shirtless Wolf Who Was In Twilight That Time, but this pushes a little too far in the other direction:

I want to like it — cute boy in a suit — but it’s just so glum and charmless. The kid is 19. He should be allowed to look like a hot young adult, rather than a) one of the students featured in the Terrorist Reform School story; b) all five telltale signs of a psycho boss; c) the crabby upstart on an episode of Mad Men who makes Pete Campbell look like an easygoing noodle of a man; or d) an old-school game-show host who is really, really angry whenever anyone gets a whammy.

[Photo: Splash News]

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Fug the Cover: Dianna Agron, Cory Monteith, and Lea Michele


Don’t even get me started. No, seriously. Don’t get me started on this. Yes, GQ, the PERFECT person to shoot a cover and editorial spread about a show about teenagers is TERRY RICHARDSON, who’s recently enjoyed a tidal wave of press about how he is TOTALLY GROSS to all the underage models who are sent to him! WHAT AN AWESOME PLAN. And what is YET AWESOMER is to decide that the women on Glee should pose COMPLETELY SCANTILY CLAD as if they were washed up WB starlets angling for the cover of Maxim circa 1999.

Look, I get that GQ is kind of lad-mag adjacent and that the people on Glee are of age, but when you look at this cover and the shots inside and Dianna Agron looks like a nun simply because she’s wearing BOTTOMS, maybe we’ve crossed a PR-bridge too far. After all, when you’ve got Lea Michele making her Victoria’s Secret face on the cover in her underpants, do you ALSO need her to be eating a lollipop in her panties inside? And also eating a lollipop in her panties with her legs spread and playing with her hair? And, oh, just standing around in her panties — sans lollipop this time, but threatening to take off her top? I don’t mean to strangle myself with these pearls that I’m clutching BUT COME ON. You can be cute and you can be sexy and you can be alluring and you can still wear something other than your panties in every single shot in a national magazine, especially when the other people in the spread range from COMPLETELY (Cory) to kinda (Dianna) clothed. I don’t blame Lea Michele for this — although I have to admit that my reaction to these pictures was to say, “oh, god. She really IS unbearable.” — but I do blame SOMEONE for not saying, “hey, this show is all about how cool it is to be different and talented, so maybe our lead actress — who is crazy talented and would be even if she were wearing a zombie costume — doesn’t need to be styled like the most important thing about her is her body, just like every other anonymous sexpot in every other lad mag in the world. LET’S TRY A SHOT WITH SOME PANTS TERRY YOU DISGUSTING OLD GOAT.”

I need to go breathe into a bag now. What do you think?
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