Readers sound off on Robert Downey Jr., ''How to Train your Dragon,'' and ''The Human Centipede''
White Takes Flight
If it had been Betty White in the Iron Man armor, that would have been the cover of the year.
The Me Generation
Mark Harris’ American Idol column was spot-on. Art can be self-expression without necessarily being about the self. I don’t expect to hear something like Adam Lambert‘s rendition of ”Mad World,” which transported us to a place of total vulnerability. But I hope some of the current contestants will give a mesmerizing performance before the season ends. I can ”think big” and ”imagine deeply” too, can’t I?
I can’t recall a time when Betty White wasn’t somewhere on the TV dial. Now, thanks to reruns and her current projects, new generations can enjoy her seemingly effortless talents. In this age of tweet-iacs, her modesty is refreshing! Take a lesson from Betty, celebs. This is how a professional should behave.
John D. Adams
Pisgah Forest, N.C.
Betty White is like a very fine wine — she gets even better with age. I can easily see her making room for another Emmy as a result of her SNL performance. She’s certainly come a long way from ”And our next float is made of…”
Roar of the Crowd
You say that much of the credit for How to Train Your Dragon‘s eventual success should go to the advertising campaign. I say that it should go to the directors for creating a magnificent movie, which turned all of its viewers into personal marketing machines. It’s word of mouth that slayed the box office dragon.
A Matter of Taste
I love your mag, I do. But I was offended by your Mother’s Day gift guide. I’m a mom who doesn’t garden, sew, cook, or craft. If I got any of these books, I’d take the giver off my Christmas-card list.
Thousand Oaks, Calif.
Senior editor Tina Jordan responds: There’s no one-size-fits-all sweater that’ll please every mom — and there’s no one book that will either. Had I been able to, I would’ve included mysteries, sports books, sci-fi, memoirs, and dog books. And then people would’ve lamented the exclusion of thrillers, true crime, cat books… You get the idea.
You owe me lunch. Your description of the demented horror movie The Human Centipede (First Sequence) didn’t exactly sit well with my stomach. Even David Cronenberg would need an ironclad appetite to digest such a hearty review.