5 reasons to have a love-hate relationship with George Clooney

by Katiedot Fri 25 Nov 2011, 10:38

Is the silly season coming early this year? I'm thinking all these 'journalism list' articles in the form of lists are the mainstay of publications when they're all busy enjoying the sumer sun.

From Sydney Morning Herald

Hating George Clooney

Sacha Molitorisz

November 25, 2011

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A man's man ... George Clooney.

Five reasons to have a love-hate relationship with George Clooney.

How do I hate thee, George Clooney? Let me count the ways.

1. Thy work. Last week, the Crasher saw The Ides of March. Clooney plays a presidential hopeful in the style of Barack Obama. Clooney is superb; the film is one of the year's best. Clooney doesn't just star. He also directed. Show-off.

2. Thy other work. The Crasher recently saw another Clooney film, The Descendants. Opening in January, it's great too. In it, Clooney makes dorkiness look cool. He could make global warming look cool. This week, Entertainment Weekly asked whether he's the new Paul Newman.

Advertisement: Story continues below 3. Thy real work. Like Angelina Jolie, Clooney is a United Nations Ambassador of Peace who works to fix crises in Haiti, Darfur and beyond.

4. Thy love life. Until recently, 50-year-old Clooney was dating 33-year-old Italian actress Elisabetta Canalis. He's now gone for a younger model: 32-year-old Stacy Keibler, an occasional wrestler whose signature moves reportedly include the ''corner footchoke'' and ''hair-pull snapmare". Clooney never stood a chance.

5. Thy morality. Clooney has scruples. In 2008, he tried to convince Italian PM Silvio Berlusconi to send helicopters to Darfur. ''I'd done all my homework,'' Clooney told Time magazine. ''[Afterwards] he took me to see his bedroom and the bed that Putin had given him. I was, like, 'I have to go' and he was saying, 'No, where are you going, there's going to be a party'.'' No bunga bunga for George.

I was contemplating all this after seeing The Ides of March. Strolling down George Street, I examined Sydney's men. They all looked decidedly un-Clooney-esque.

In a Sussex Street food court, I bought a soup from an old Chinese chef. Try as I might, I just couldn't imagine him dating Canalis or Keibler. In the Star hotel, I ordered a schooner from a barman who resembled a keg with a moustache. Behind me, a patron with pockmarked skin was making threats into his mobile phone.

George, you are Nietzsche's Ubermensch. Your inability to settle down suggests you're fallible but you are not. Nursing my schooner, I realised I hate George Clooney so much I want to spend next year hanging out with him at Lake Como.