“What Goes Around,” indeed.
I’ve got to hand it to Justin Timberlake: somewhere between ditching Britney and making me dance around my living room, he’s gone and become a movie star. Or, well, a star who’s in movies, anyway.
I think it all started with having a sense of humor, which isn’t such a bad place to start, and which is frankly a bit of a rare commodity around the male pop/R&B circuit. Someone must have said to him, “Hey, J, how about ‘Dick in a Box?’” A few good turns around Saturday Night Live and a few thousand Youtube hits later, suddenly there was Alpha Dog and Black Snake Moan—expanding his repertoire to “Southern/California rough,” apparently—and now he’s got a legitimate IMDB profile and everything. This year I kind of expect him and his blond afro wig to be the only good things about The Love Guru, and he’s signed on to a road drama with Jeff Bridges. These are, like, real movies in real theaters. I did not expect this.
And to this I say, good on you, Justin Timberlake. Yes, I may have mocked you before, but that was in college, when we were both young and foolish (you: the Cameron years; me: an unfortunate Dave Matthews phase), and in my own defense, some of your colleagues deserved it. Now we’re both grown up and I feel that we’ve reached an understanding: you make music I can sing to in the shower, and I confess that you’re a legitimately talented pop star. I may even see a movie of yours one of these days, if you play your cards right. In any case, I’ll stand by and be suitably impressed with your quiet but consistent career growth. Deal? Deal.
I’m glad we had this little heart-to-heart.
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