Just a Thought

My first introduction to Jennifer Lopez was a second-run viewing of some flick she did with George Clooney five or six years ago. She played an FBI agent and he played a crook – of course, they fell for each other and had a wonderful love affair.

Whatever. It was a forgettable movie (I don’t even remember the name of it) with forgettable acting. But I only paid $2, so who cares, right?

Now, Jennifer is better known as “J. Lo” or “Miss Lopez,” and more Americans could probably recite the dimensions of her ass than the Pledge of Allegiance.

I just don’t understand. Who is she? I mean we all know she’s “Jenny from the block,” but really, why do we care?

This woman, whose latest effort at acting, “Gigli,” has become the worst reviewed film of 2003 in less than a week – even with mainstream heartthrob-wannabe Ben Affleck sharing the screen – has no talent. Unless, of course, you consider batting your eyelashes at the cameras a talent, I do not.

It does not take talent to make a CD that consists largely of guest rappers, digitally perfected or distorted vocals (that rarely go beyond three keys anyway) and dance remix beats written by someone else.

Lopez’s film escapades pretty much speak for themselves. Not only is “Gigli” going to bomb (Columbia Pictures will be truly fortunate if they recover the $50 million shelled out on the flop), but her last film, “Maid in Manhattan,” came and went with relatively little fanfare, and “Jersey Girl,” due out in 2004 (and also costarring Mr. J. Lo, er, Ben Affleck), seems to be cowering in the corner after “Gigli” reviews declared that the two leads are unbelievable and have no chemistry. I predict Miramax will be smart and limit pre-release promotion on “Jersey.”

The lady has two lines of perfume. Do you think J. Lo’s special touch aided in the creation of either scent? I suppose her fans like to envision her in a white lab coat instructing technicians, “No, we need a little more lavender and less lime.” Come on! The only thing Lopez lent to either line was a name and a body. The most important marketing tool for her first line (shockingly called “J. Lo, by Jennifer Lopez”) was the provocatively and poorly touched-up photograph of Miss Lopez showing off her giant derriere in flesh-colored lingerie.

I don’t think we even need to get into “her” Los Angeles restaurant or J. Lo fashion line.

She is everywhere, ubiquitous.

Photos of her pink diamond engagement ring and public displays of affection between Affleck and she adorn four out of five magazines at the grocery store check stand. Teenagers attempt to mimic her every fashion move, a choice that will lead to heavy regret in 10 years (remember MC Hammer pants, anyone?). Adults look to her as a strong female role model and encourage their young daughters to admire her.

The problem remains: She has no talent. Jennifer Lopez is a fluke. She got lucky. She allowed herself to be molded and shaped into whatever her agents and managers and record company thought would sell. So, while J. Lo. has supposedly become more “street,” she has lost nearly all remnants of her proud Hispanic heritage. She has gone from gangsta chic with P. Diddy to sophisticated actress with B. Lo. Her fame is based almost entirely on her ability to have a giant behind and still be popular (GASP!).

She has somehow convinced a lot of important and unimportant people that she can do anything she wants, whether she has the talent for it or not.

But I’m not convinced. I don’t buy it. And at night, before I lay my head down to sleep, I pray with every fiber or my being that tomorrow will be the day that the rest of America wakes up and I will no longer be subjected to the ins and out of J. Lo’s ridiculous life or her over-hyped butt.