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 here was a great show to be made about the two Coreys. All smug jokes aside — don't worry, we'll bring them back later — Corey Haim and Corey Feldman encapsulate what makes Hollywood such an endlessly fascinating place: sudden fame, mountains of poontang, drugs and failure and pain. When The Two Coreys reality show was first announced, I read these snarky items from bloggers, who would post Britney Spears' pap smear if they could, saying things like, "Who asked for this?" Let me tell you something: I asked for this. In the Two Coreys buffet, I was the first in line.
And so it is with utter disapointment I tell you The Two Coreys is a terrible show. A terrible, unwatchable show. What happened? All they had to do was point the camera at Corey Haim and ask him to talk about his drug problem, his weight problem, his bottom-scraping career problem. All they had to do was get Corey Feldman to talk about River Phoenix and Michael Jackson. Instead, they did exactly what they shouldn't have: They tried to make the Two Coreys seem like normal people, which is exactly what the Two Coreys never were. Oh, and also? They asked them to act. Big mistake.
The Two Coreys is a "reality-based sitcom," which is a bit like a sitcom no one bothered to write. The premise is that Corey Feldman and his pretty young wife Susie are a happy married couple living off residuals and VH1 appearances in their comfy Los Angeles home. That is, until the single and swingin' Corey Haim arrives. He smokes in the house, dude. He tracks mud on the carpet, dude. He bitches about Mrs. Feldman's vegan cooking, and that's really important to her, dude. Each of these scenes is obviously improvised, requiring both Coreys to flex both their acting muscles and their fabled sarcasm. Here is Corey Haim riffing on his married buddy: "Cut the umbilical! It's always him and Susan, Susan and him. It's like the umbilical house, man. They're like the Umbilicals. Instead of the Feldmans." The hope is that, by showing the duo bickering and wisecracking, the show might recapture a little of that old "Two Coreys" magic. As someone who recently re-watched both Dream a Little Dream and License to Drive, I can tell you that the Two Coreys magic is akin to your uncle pulling a coin from behind someone's ear.
The Two Coreys were megafamous, essentially, for being in the right place at the right time. They had the same name. One of them was adorable. (When it came to heartthrobs, there was only one Corey. No one had Corey Feldman's poster on their wall. Except maybe Michael Jackson.) Other tween sexpots, like Johnny Depp, were reluctant to drink the Tiger Beat Kool-Aid while the Two Coreys practically
Child actors are fascinating to us because we feel complicit in their downfall. |
beer-bonged the stuff, chumming for the cameras with their arms slung around each others' shoulders. All of which is to say that neither was ever in danger of winning an Oscar. (Feldman is often referred to as the more talented Corey, though I argue that Haim was more natural and charismatic, while Feldman was a classic kid overactor. Debate among yourselves!) Their lives, like their movies, were only interesting inasmuch as they reflected an adolescent wish fulfillment — sweet rides and hot babes and hanging poolside with Alyssa Milano. What made them fascinating, however, was how quickly that fame evaporated. They both fell into drug problems, but it was Haim, the SoCal surfer with the golden smirk, who pushed it to an art form. He spent the better part of a decade in a powder- and pill-induced fog, offering incoherent interviews, blowing whatever parts came his way. When he re-emerged in the early part of this decade, he was maybe fifty pounds heavier, nearly unrecognizable. See? Great story.
Especially considering that, these days, child stars are falling faster than the Dow Jones.
Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears are locked in a dangerous game of tabloid brinkmanship, but lesser stars have made the news, too: Jodie Sweetin from Full House addicted to meth, Gary Coleman arrested (again!) for a dust-up only a few weeks ago, the littlest boy from Home Improvement in a filthy, foreclosed home. If anything, you would think the Coreys have a little wisdom to drop about the slavering Hollywood machine that eats its young. Instead, they both seem desperate to get back in there and offer themselves up for lunch.
This brings us to "the comeback." The comeback is the premise for the show, the reason that Haim has come to stay with the Feldmans. "When we were on top, we were unstoppable," he tells us in one of his bumper introductions. In the second episode, both Coreys show up to a Lost Boys reunion and later brainstorm about writing a sequel. Eventually, Feldman must deliver the painful news that there already is a Lost Boys sequel in production, and Haim is not going to be a part of it. If there is a moment The Two Coreys will be remembered for — quite a stretch — it will be this, as Haim tears up with shame and disappointment. If it's improvised, it doesn't seem that way. It's probably one of the only moments in the show that feels genuine. "I've burned so many bridges, man," says Haim, wiping tears from his eyes. "There's a future somewhere, it's just not looking very clear right this second."
It's a bit painful to see Corey Haim cry about not working. But he's still an asshole. |
I think one of the reasons child actors are fascinating to us is that we feel somewhat complicit in their downfall. We placed them on the pedestal. We bought the posters. We pinched their cheeks and told them they looked adorable. And so when they end up in jail, in rehab, when they make a truly wretched movie like Blown Away (rent it now!), there is a part of us that feels a little guilty. Okay, there's a part of me. Because I bought the myth. I was twelve years old when the Coreys hit the bigs, and nothing seemed better than an afternoon at Spago chumming with them. We would pose for the cameras, and make wisecracks to the waiters, and it would be the sunshine of a million summer afternoons.
So it's a bit painful to see Corey Haim cry about being lonely, about not working, about not having a future. I feel bad for the guy. But you know what? He is still the asshole who shows up to a radio interview wearing yellow Bono sunglasses and two earrings. He is still the dumbass pinning his hopes on the Lost Boys sequel — a straight-to-DVD production, for Christ's sake! And he is the same guy who flaked on an interview with me for Nerve just last week, to which the publicist (the publicist!) said, "Sorry, apparently he's not the most reliable guy."
I don't mind that The Two Coreys respects its subjects as real people; it is too easy to make fun of these guys. (And fun! Let's do it over drinks sometime!) But the problem with a show that tries to make me feel sympathy for Corey Haim is that Corey Haim isn't the most likable guy. This is the same problem VH1 is having with Scott Baio Is 45... and Single, another show that should have been brilliant and instead is just annoying. These guys deserve their empty lives. And even if their lives are empty, they still own nicer houses than I'll ever be able to afford. So I'll save my sympathy for the children of Darfur. Or even the Culkins. Frankly, they're looking pretty appealing these days.
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| ABOUT THE AUTHOR: |
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Sarah Hepola has been a high-school teacher, a playwright, a film critic, a music editor and a travel columnist. Her work has appeared in the New York Times, Slate, The Guardian, Salon, and on NPR. She lives in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. |
©2007 Sarah Hepola and Nerve.com.
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