MEGAN CLINARD graduated with a Fiction Writing degree from Columbia College Chicago focusing her last semester on Screenwriting and Film. She worked for several years at Klasky Csupo Inc. Productions and as a writer for Performer Magazine reviewing West Coast and local Los Angeles bands. Her film and tv tastes lean towards the dorky and obscure with art house pretension never far behind. Though being a girl she is forced to embrace most romantic comedies and a good musical montage. Megan currently gave up the Hollywood dream to pursue a life of healthcare and missions, though her love for the arts still runs deep.

MEGAN'S BLOG ENTRIES:


Give in to the Glee
What you might have gathered thus far from my minimal reviews is that I have a strong passion for A) music and B) social outcasts. Though I promise to broaden my critical horizons in later blogs, there is a new series that I must geek out on. This fall, the creators of the whacked-out and sometimes intriguing “Nip / Tuck” have blended my two loves into the hour long comedy with a heart, “Glee.” Now, I know what you might be thinking. A show about teen drama mixed in with both showtunes and mainstream radio hits… it's as if “High School Musical” vomited on the CW.
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A Wake Up Call
So what can you learn from a musical based on a banned play about sex, anarchy, and going against everything your parents and teachers say? A lot. 1890s Germany, where religion ruled and cultural philosophy was never questioned, sets the stage for a group of young adolescence coming into their own. In the opening scene, Wendla's mother tells her that her elder sister has had another visit from the stork. When questioned how this truly works, her mother tries to avoid embarrassment by explaining that babies come from women loving their husbands with their whole… um… heart. This fear of discussing the improper foreshadows the unforeseen pain that the confused teens will face in a foreboding world that doesn’t know how to handle what every child will inevitably face.
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Quirky Paradise
There are specific ingredients that will make me fall in love with a movie. In Away We Go, its as if Sam Mendes read my diary in order to make for me that almost-too-good-to-be-true movie experience. I’m not saying it is a cinematic masterpiece. If you can manage to make it past the first purposefully-too-suggestive, too-awkward opening scene (unlike a sweet 60-yea-old man next to me who fled the theater), you may find yourself falling for this delightful dramedy.
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