Fug The Cover

Sigh. We knew it would happen. It had to eventually. It's a tactic as old as time: Wholesome, cherubic young actor wanders onto the Dark Side for a magazine cover and article, in the hope that the industry will suddenly take him/her super seriously and that it will all lead to an Oscar -- or better, an Oscar gift basket -- magically turning up in his/her hand. Britney, minus the Oscar hope (although Crossroads was REALLY GOOD, people, and she DID have to act the hell out of it in order to convince us she'd never paraded around in her bra in front of a dude before), did that sort of thing on magazine covers all the time back in her heyday. And now it's Zac Efron's turn.

We're all familiar with Zac's floppy-haired, Good Boy, let's-hold-hands-under-the-lunch-table visage; now drink in the brooding, adult version who would really like to defile you in his Camaro and then roll you a cigarette.

[Photo: Splash News]

"Disney's Boy Wonder" even goes so far as to drop an f-bomb or two in the interview -- you know, just to prove he's got edge, when in fact he generally has all the sharp corners of a Mini Babybel. I also enjoy how the cover-line placement on his shoulder makes it look like his ensemble is supposed to be part of the tips for dressing like a leading man, despite the fact that Zac appears to be squeezed into The Jeans No Man Should Ever Own (in this case, quite possibly women's low-rise skinny-cut).

But really, I think Zac is just trying really hard to convince you, and his agents, and directors, and probably also Disney, that he's secretly someone else. Specifically, this person:

Just to be clear, I am not saying Rachel Bilson or her figure are fugly, or that dudes won't see the cover of this magazine, proclaim her the perfect woman, and buy two copies to stash around the house.

[Photo: Splash News]

It's just odd to me. Rachel has been doing so well with clothes ON lately. And then GQ sticks her in a bikini like it's July 4 and Uncle Sam is offering up a patriotic beach-party showcase on The Price Is Right -- with Rachel curled up on the prow of a really small powerboat while the contestant jumps up and down screaming and then overbids by $4000 -- and suddenly she seems totally plastic and out-of-proportion. Maybe the designers were too busy crafting the cover lines about squirrel rampages to notice. I mean, obviously, yes, Rachel Bilson is naturally tiny; it's not like I expected her to put on a bikini and suddenly be my size. But I'm not sure why this photo of a lovely, genetically tiny person still called for so much airbrushing that Rachel has turned into a crazy pageant-zombie bobblehead with one leg that looks weirdly small compared to the other. Her face looks frozen in place and as if it's been Photoshopped onto someone else's body.

Also, I hope nobody misinterprets the cover and shows up at work in this bikini, thinking Rachel is saluting this as "The Modern Business Suit." Although it might help you ace a job interview.

JAMES MCAVOY: Hi, K.

KEIRA KNIGHTLEY: Hi, J.

JAMES: Can I ask you something?

KEIRA: Of course.

JAMES: We were hot in Atonement, right?

KEIRA: Completely.  Hot + WWII + English = SUPER HOT.

JAMES: I thought I remembered it right. So...?

KEIRA: Like we're in some kind of simultaneously post-modern and low-rent version of Grease. I know.

JAMES: It's terrible. Also, are those your....?

KEIRA: Knickers? So it seems. 

JAMES: But we're so attractive and good in the movie. Why would they do this to us?

KEIRA: Oh, honey. You haven't even seen the worst of it.

JAMES: How is that possible? Do they have an outtake in which I am drooling?

KEIRA: Turn the magazine over.

I'm pretty sure this cover is supposed to be sultry, or something, but instead Reese Witherspoon looks bored. And a little depressed.

[Photo: Splash News]

Reese looks way more like the cover-line cautionary tale of the girl who got caught red-handed in the boss's drawers, and no, not the ones on his desk. Or perhaps the young girl who nailed the septagenarian and is trying to say, "Listen, if I were after his money, this sweater would be a damn MINK WRAP." She does NOT look, tragically, look like a woman with any kind of new passion -- unless, say, it's a passion for staring blankly into middle distance, reading Beowulf in 24-hour spurts, or making a steak every day and then forcing herself to stare at it without ever bringing it to her lips.

Or maybe she's just upset because she lost a sizable bet to Jake Gyllenhaal that Marie Claire would pull together only 350 hot spring looks this year. It'll be okay, though, Reese -- if Jake's that attuned to the mag, then you could still win out, as he'll surely he'll flip through that poorly titled article being pimped just above the masthead, called "What Makes Men Propose." Because nothing is sexier or more strong and independent than trying to understand what to do to MAKE your man propose, right? So cheer up, and let's socially regress together!

So, Monday night, Heather and I were watching some sort of New Year's Eve Countdown Blah Blah Blah Thingie, on which Fergie appeared, and we confessed to each other over our champagne flutes that she has been looking SO adorable lately and has hardly shown up wearing tartan hot pants to anything, and now I guess it turns out we kind of like her and think she's cute.

Well, Australian Cosmo is trying its damnedest to undo all that goodwill:

A) How OLD is that picture? B) How MUCH do they hate her? C) Going down on him could give me WHAT?

All that sex-related rumor-mongering aside (apparently, in addition to giving us cancer, our boyfriends are all tracking us on some creepy website. Is one of the suggested 10 Ways to Feel More Confident Naked, "don't read any other article in this magazine"?), Cosmo's agenda this month is clearly squashing Miss Fergie Ferg's stylistic upswing like a nasty little silverfish. This picture doesn't look remotely like her, AND she's been dressed like a cashier at Forever XXI, but without the benefit of getting fifteen percent off clothes that are already essentially free. Look, I know old Fergs is busy calling all the people who made fun of her for peeing herself and for the meth thing and cackling about her impending nuptials to Josh "Smokin'" Duhamel  and all the mad piles of cash she made this year and how good her legs are (I'm sure my phone will ring eventually), but once she's done with that, maybe she should call her lawyer and see if she can sue for this sort of thing. It's certainly caused ME some emotional distress.

When I originally pulled this Bazaar cover with Uma Thurman, I remember thinking, "Oh, UMA. No."

But now that I am looking at it again, I don't know that my first instinct was right. (Bear in mind that I hadn't had any coffee at that point. What was I doing, making judgment calls?) Sure, she looks a bit orange and I don't know that this is the most flattering pose for anyone (it looks more and more uncomfortable the longer you look at it, though it's ostensibly casual), but....you know, she's hot. And she looks recognizably like herself.  And I kind of appreciate the fact that "TEN LEG LIFTS THAT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE" isn't splashed over her forehead.

And then I saw the OTHER Bazaar cover (I guess one is for subscribers and this one is for newsstands):

Could someone please explain to me what the deal is with Mischa's teeth here?

Right? I mean, she looks generically lovely here -- although not entirely like herself -- but....a bit rabbity, no? And I don't think I've ever thought that about her, not in all the years I spent complaining about how wooden she was on The OC. She almost looks like she's got a retainer in. And other than prompting me to waste twenty valuable minutes that I should be spending wrapping gifts or quaffing wassail on deep thoughts about Mischa Barton's dental situation, this cover has also led me to waste hardcore cookie-eating time on thinking about the 10 MASSAGES THAT'LL CHANGE MY LIFE. For one thing, that sounds dirty. For another, are there really TEN? I can't help imagining the poor writer assigned to this story, stuck on massage number seven and frantically asking her co-workers if they can think of ANY life-changing massages, AT ALL, so she can finish this thing and head down to the pub with everyone else. This wassail's for you, Tatler staffer.

I am really looking forward to Atonement, the project Keira Knightley here is currently flogging. The book is great, and I hear the movie is just fantastic. God knows, I'm a sucker for British period pieces in which women in great outfits run through beautiful fields crying about men. But if Keira has any sense, right now she's running through the streets of London crying about the make-up they put on her for this cover:

DUDES. Last time I checked, K. Kni wasn't a moderately depressed topless mime-clown, nor does she play one in the film, nor are moderately depressed topless mime-clowns all the rage.  So what gives? Did KK accidentally run over Interview's editor-in-chief's dog with her car? Did she burn down the photographer's house? Did she steal the styist's place in line at an open bar? Because to me, this cover looks like revenge.

Well, this is one way to officially confirm your pregnancy:

As well as your tragic addiction to bronzer, last night's eye liner and those bitchin' cropped jackets of fashion's proudest decade, the 80s. There IS something hilarious about this photo being juxtaposed with the headline, "Tanning, bleaching, botox: ARE YOU OBSESSED?" as Xtina here looks to be deeply in thrall to at least two of said vices. I'm just not quite sure what either Our Lady of the Bleach or Marie Claire were thinking: Christina's been nothing if not sexily classing it up since marrying her baby daddy, and while there is a less tacky way to pose nude on the cover of a magazine...this ain't it.

Here's what I want to know, looking at this cover:

Does Julia's MOST INTIMATE INTERVIEW EVER! include tips and tricks on how she manages to turn her head around 270 degrees? Because that, I would be interested to read.