The First Trailer for the New Whitney Houston Documentary Is Here

The first teaser for the new Whitney Houston documentary, Whitney, has arrived online today. The film is directed by Oscar-winner Kevin Macdonald, who helmed the 2012 Bob Marley doc Marley. 

Whitney premiered last year at the Tribeca Film Festival and features never-before-seen footage of the singer, live performances, unreleased audio recordings, and interviews with family members.

The film is scheduled for theatrical release on July 6. Take a look below.

 

Has Any New Yorker Even Been To A Museum?

School field trips don’t count, and neither do gala fundraisers. And don’t try the “I bought a hot dog from a cart in front of the Met one time” defense. Unless the guy shoveling sauerkraut had something fascinating to tell you about ancient Egypt, you’re just another hungry philistine.

Admit it. You’ve been living in this city for years, maybe even your whole life, and you’ve never voluntarily set foot inside one of these big, echoing buildings that purport to distill some aspect of civilization or the infinitely complex universe from which it springs. You have done everything, in fact, to avoid it.

You go to see movies you know are terrible. You walk outside and comment on the sunset when there’s nothing special about it. You talk and and drink with your friends, if you have any, and if you don’t you simply do those things alone. You tell yourself that something needs to be done about all the dust in your apartment … someday.

What you never, ever do is take the bus across town to the Whitney and plunk down $18 to see another retrospective on postwar American abstraction called Signs & Symbols. If you did this, a car would be waiting for you at the curb downstairs; you’d be taken over the border into Connecticut and dropped on the side of the Merritt Parkway. Please do not speak to the driver.

Primetime TV Has Turned Into Your Middle-School Sex Ed Class

Can you say “penis” or “vagina” without giggling? No, you cannot, because the bits underneath our trousers are inherently funny. Go ahead, take a look. This blog post will be here when you’re done. Satisfied? Are you laughing? (I am mostly crying.) Well, TV writers are assuming you are, which is why they’re peppering a lot of their witty dialogue with jokes about your junk.

Vulture has assembled a super-cut of our favorite network stars saying words that should probably not make you blush, because if they did you are too young to be looking at pop culture websites on the Internet. But if you’re of a mature age, please check it out below:

Personally, I could used a few “balls” thrown in there. I mean, isn’t that how everyone feels all the time?

No? Sigh. Vagina.

Buenos Aires Dispatch: Down and Dirty at Dengue Dancing

Lorenzo “Lolo,” Anzoátegui, Ani Castoldi, and Luciano Lasca have that very elusive, very covetable of qualities: a truly authentic style. That’s the force that transformed their Buenos Aires-based night, Dengue Dancing, from a delightfully sloppy downtown happening to the only acceptable place to be on Thursdays. The trio was lucky enough to snap up Gong, an 80 year-old disco den, while it was in between junkie and cheto crowds. Everyone from Che Guevara to Jackie Onassis has set foot in this downtown mainstay, and some of the waiters, clad in baby-blue tuxedos and bowties, look like they’ve been down there as long as the Soviet-issue light machine from 1955.

So far, Dengue is that rare and delicate thing: a club night run by friends who don’t hate each other, where a bevy of DJs come out to dance to each other’s sets while they aren’t in the booth themselves. With magazines from Europe and the States singing Dengue’s praises, it’s a wonder that things are as calm as they remain. What follows, on the eve of their hundredth party, is a relaxed conversation about being weird in Buenos Aires and the future of Dengue Dancing beyond the dance floor.image

From top to bottom: Ani Castoldi, Luciano Lasca, and Lorenzo “Lolo,” Anzoátegui.

How did you guys decide to throw a party?

Ani: One day, I was coming back from work and and a guy I knew said, ‘I’m going to a reggae bar, you have to go.’ And so I went to the owner like, ‘Hi, I want to do a party.’ And he is all, ‘okay, you have to come to me next Monday.’ You know situations where you don’t know if someone is going to kill you or if it is going to be alright? I was like, ‘what can I do to win them over?’ So I wore a really short skirt, with heels, and went alone and there are these two seven feet tall Nigerian guys. I said, ‘I want to do a party with DJs and with bands on Thursdays.’ They said, ‘let’s try it, but you have to do this every Thursday.’ So I said ‘sure, sure,’ and then ran home to Lolo and said ‘Lolo! Oh my god! I have to do a party every Thursday night.’

Lolo: From the beginning, it was just super-right. With the post-punk and with everything, it got really new wavey. And then all these people started showing up that we didn’t know, that we’d never seen! That’s what I like, people meeting. Not just sexually, just meeting and doing shit together. I’m really, really happy about this.

Luciano: It’s really important to have a space like that, where people actually like the music.

Ani: When we were meeting we were dreaming about Xanadu. And it really happened!

Lolo: Also, it’s something that is affordable to do, too. Something cheap. Not that Dengue is cheap as it used to be, but still. And all the cool kids drink for free.

And it’s good enough that, when people are attracted to it, they’ll come and pay 10 pesos for a beer.

Lolo: We’ve had shouting arguments about alcohol prices, but Gong sets those. They charge a lot of money on weekends, since old men go there with bimbos and shit.

Ani: We really have a good relationship with the owner, but we cannot fight all the time because of the prices. I’m always saying, ‘you don’t understand, everyone is poor! all the people just come to dance.’ And they’re like, ‘for every three people, only one drinks something.’ And we’re like, ‘we don’t care, we just want them there.’

And now, there are plans for a label. When you launch the label, what will you be doing? Remixing the bands, putting out their records, making sure they have more options?

Lolo: All of the above. First, we want to record and produce the albums. We’ve finished the Blue Cherrys album, that’s going to be our first one. There’s Yilet, Domingo. We want to give everyone a wider audience and really make it possible to travel, to tour.

Ani: Also, the people who are now turning 18 were born in the 90s, and they’re starting to make their own bands. And we want to be there to listen to those bands, because the ideas not might be the most sellable ideas, so we just want them to be able to record. And then, people can listen to them, and then maybe it becomes something bigger.

Lolo: 10 years ago, I was living in Barcelona, working for Rough Trade and Moshi Moshi and XL. The year 2000 was really transitional. Rock sucked, electronic music was progressive or really complicated. And what happened in 2001? The Strokes’ first record came out. And the electroclash thing happened as well; that really changed the disco landscape. So this is the year that it’s going to happen internationally, and locally. So we’re looking for those bands born in 1990.

You know that when people see Dengue, they’re often impressed because it seems quite effortlessly cool, right?

Lolo: Yes, we get told that a lot. It’s like, with the BUTT [Magazine] piece, that guy posted on our Facebook and was really over the top and said “there hasn’t been anything like this in Berlin or Paris or New York for YEARS!” And that was the third Dengue. We didn’t quite know what to do. And again, that’s because of something sincere. People come, they’re cool people. Maybe in the future they won’t come, or more will come.

Ani: We have no idea how it happens. Every Dengue, every Thursday, when it’s early and no one is there yet, we think “oh nobody’s coming.”

Lolo: If we went to Dengue and we weren’t doing the party ourselves, we’d be impressed. And have fun. And that was the whole intention! The first thing at Dengue, people went nuts, and we were like, we just wanted to play what we wanted to play. And we didn’t know if people would dance to that, but we knew we would. And that’s the good thing, to find out that you’re not a single raindrop. You’re not alone! It’s about coming back to the community feel of the scene; you need help to concentrate it.

Photos by Kasandra Lunar and Whiskii

Buenos Aires Dispatch: Down and Dirty at Dengue Dancing

Lorenzo “Lolo,” Anzoátegui, Ani Castoldi, and Luciano Lasca have that very elusive, very covetable of qualities: a truly authentic aesthetic. That’s the force that transformed their Buenos Aires-based night, Dengue Dancing, from a delightfully sloppy downtown happening to the only acceptable place to be on Thursdays. The trio was lucky enough to snap up Gong, an 80 year-old disco den, while it was in between junkie and cheto crowds. Everyone from Che Guevara to Jackie Onassis has set foot in this downtown mainstay, and some of the waiters, clad in baby-blue tuxedos and bowties, look like they’ve been down there as long as the Soviet-issue light machine from 1955.

So far, Dengue is that rare and delicate thing: a club night run by friends who don’t hate each other where a bevy of DJs come out to dance to each other’s sets while they aren’t in the booth themselves. With magazines from Europe and the States singing Dengue’s praises, it’s a wonder that things are as calm as they remain. What follows, on the eve of their 100th party, is a relaxed conversation about being weird in Buenos Aires and the future of Dengue beyond the dance floor.

How did you guys decide to throw a party?

Ani: One day, I was coming back from work and and a guy I knew said, ‘I’m going to a reggae bar, you have to go.’ And so I went to the owner like, ‘Hi, I want to do a party.’ And he is all, ‘okay, you have to come to me next Monday.’ You know situations where you don’t know if someone is going to kill you or if it is going to be alright? I was like, ‘what can I do to win them over?’ So I wore a really short skirt, with heels, and went alone and there are these two seven feet tall Nigerian guys. I said, ‘I want to do a party with DJs and with bands on Thursdays.’ They said, ‘let’s try it, but you have to do this every Thursday.’ So I said ‘sure, sure,’ and then ran home to Lolo and said ‘Lolo! Oh my god! I have to do a party every Thursday night.’

Lolo: From the beginning, it was just super-right. With the post-punk and with everything, it got really new-wavey. And then all these people started showing up that we didn’t know, that we’d never seen! That’s what I like, people meeting. Not just sexually, just meeting and doing shit together. I’m really, really happy about this.

Luciano: It’s really important to have a space like that, where people actually like the music.

Ani: When we were meeting we were dreaming about Xanadu. And it really happened!

Lolo: Also, it’s something that is affordable to do, too. Something cheap. Not that Dengue is cheap as it used to be, but still. And all the cool kids drink for free.

And it’s good enough that, when people are attracted to it, they’ll come and pay 10 pesos for a beer.

Lolo: We’ve had shouting arguments about alcohol prices, but Gong sets those. They charge a lot of money on weekends, since old men go there with bimbos and shit.

Ani: We really have a good relationship with the owner, but we cannot fight all the time because of the prices. I’m always saying, ‘you don’t understand, everyone is poor! all the people just come to dance.’ And they’re like, ‘for every three people, only one drinks something.’ And we’re like, ‘we don’t care, we just want them there.’

And now, there are plans for a label. When you launch the label, what will you be doing? Remixing the bands, putting out their records, making sure they have more options?

Lolo: All of the above. First, we want to record and produce the albums. We’ve finished the Blue Cherrys album, that’s going to be our first one. There’s Yilet, Domingo. We want to give everyone a wider audience and really make it possible to travel, to tour.

Ani: Also, the people who are now turning 18 were born in the 90s, and they’re starting to make their own bands. And we want to be there to listen to those bands, because the ideas not might be the most sellable ideas, so we just want them to be able to record. And then, people can listen to them, and then maybe it becomes something bigger.

Lolo: 10 years ago, I was living in Barcelona, working for Rough Trade and Moshi Moshi and XL. The year 2000 was really transitional. Rock sucked, electronic music was progressive or really complicated. And what happened in 2001? The Strokes’ first record came out, and they were like 20, 21, born in the 80s. And the electroclash thing happened as well; that really changed the disco landscape. So this is the year that it’s going to happen internationally, and locally. So we’re looking for those bands born in 1990.

You know that when people see Dengue, they’re often impressed because it seems quite effortlessly cool, right?

Lolo: Yes, we get told that a lot. It’s like, with the BUTT [Magazine] piece, that guy posted on our Facebook and was really over the top and said “there hasn’t been anything like this in Berlin or Paris or New York for YEARS!” And that was the third Dengue. We didn’t quite know what to do. And again, that’s because of something sincere. People come, they’re cool people. Maybe in the future they won’t come, or more will come.

Ani: We have no idea how it happens. Every Dengue, every Thursday, when it’s early and no one is there yet, we think “oh nobody’s coming.”

Lolo: If we went to Dengue and we weren’t doing the party ourselves, we’d be impressed. And have fun. And that was the whole intention! The first thing at Dengue, people went nuts, and we were like, we just wanted to play what we wanted to play. And we didn’t know if people would dance to that, but we knew we would. And that’s the good thing, to find out that you’re not a single raindrop. You’re not alone! It’s about coming back to the community feel of the scene; you need help to concentrate it.

Photos by Kasandra Lunar and Whiskii

‘Playboy Club’ Cancelled, ‘Whitney’ Endures for Full Season

It’s that time of the year again: After debuting their Fall lineup, NBC has chosen to throw the weakest performer into the woods to die alongside the corpses of Outsourced and Good Morning Miami. This year, the runt of the litter was The Playboy Club, a show about 1960’s Chicago nightlife. Or was it a murder mystery? Unfortunately, no one knows because no one ever watched it.

The Playboy Club will be replaced by NBC’s newest primetime news program, Rock Center With Brian Williams. The network is excited about the hour-long newsmagazine, even if it has a title befitting a Hamilton, New Jersey public access show about hair bands. Apparently Rock Center was originally slotted as a mid-season replacement for The Playboy Club, but the network couldn’t keep the practical joke going longer than three episodes. NBC spared some of their Fall offerings the sword, however. They awarded the Will Arnett and Christina Applegate comedy Up All Night a full-season extension. They also gave Whitney the same vote of confidence. Whitney has been something of a punching bag for its hackneyed ad campaign and lackluster first episodes, but NBC has stuck with a multi-camera sitcom featuring a stand-up comic before, and look what happened: DAG was canceled after one season.

Buenos Aires Dispatch: The Summer’s First Arty Midnight Pool Party

While the northern hemisphere dons parkas and heads for cover, it’s heating up down here in Buenos Aires. And besides month-long escapes to the beach, southern hemisphere summer means the opportunity to move parties outdoors. Where better for BlackBook to celebrate the beginning of the season than the latest property from Oasis Collections, a private clubhouse perfectly equipped for riding out the year’s most sweltering months. Consider the Oasis Clubhouse an anti-Isabel: demure swank designed to wow those with more discerning tastes; a spot for people who appreciate some crawling ivy with their grownup play spaces. Plus, there’s a pool.

While a pool, a French DJ, and some free booze would have probably been more than adequate, BlackBook and Oasis decided to get a little bit cultured, especially since it was right around Art Basel time anyway. We called up Daniela Luna of Appetite Gallery and asked her to bring some favorite works to take over the space, making it a poolside downtown type party where artists and suits could co-mingle peacefully. Emerging artists took to the hills of the grassy knoll behind the pool, chain-smoking and giggling under the stars. Well-coiffed internationals traded languages and business cards over full glasses of champagne and generously-poured cocktails. Most attendees made an earnest effort to browse the other art pieces displayed throughout the house, pausing to check out the band hidden in the ping pong room.

After a few rounds, some brave and built porteños dove into the pool for the summer’s inaugural nightswimming. That Appetite cage from ArteBA and its dreamy dancing occupant made another brief appearance, this time outdoors, and somehow mosquitoes left everyone unscathed. While things were over early for local standards, it seemed that everyone who arrived got what they came for, whether it was contacts, a fit starving artist, or an in to go swimming all summer. Don’t miss the chance to partake in future festivities here, BlackBook-related or not.

Photo by Adrien de Bontin

Industry Insiders: Oz Gonzalez, The Mayor of Milion

Actor-turned-restaurateur Osvaldo “Oz” Gonzalez and his partners managed to transform a run-down mansion in Buenos Aires into one of the city’s most distinguished spots to grab drinks (or a foxy Scandinavian). Witty, charming, and well-versed in the city’s art scene, Gonzalez can usually be spotted roaming the building, where he’s apt to know at least half of the clientele at any given moment. In 10 years of Milion—an eternity in a city known for its tumultuous economy—the sprawling Parisian-style mansion has seen decadent attic parties, countless art shows, and live performances by Juana Molina. More on the story of Milion after the jump.

On the beginnings of Milion: I’d been working as an actor for six years, doing TV and theater. There had come a point where I felt I was going to become a public employee on television. When I was almost 40, I said no, and went to work as a cashier at Club 69, which belonged to some friends. Silvina, my business partner, who was a Club 69 partner, calls me on the phone one day and says, ‘Diego has this house, we’d like it if you’d come to work with us.’ I said, ‘No! I’ll be a partner.’ I was living with Carla Peterson, who is an actress friend of mine, and had no money. It’s not like I planned on being a restaurateur at 40. It just happened, and I adore that. This place taught me that freedom doesn’t have to do with money. I didn’t have money. I lived here alone for eight months, when the house was in semi-ruins, and it was fantastic.

On the building’s lengthy history: When we first saw the space everything of value had already been sold and all that was left was the history of the house. There were newspapers from 1913 until 1992, it was like the history of the world. Articles on Nixon and Watergate, travel diaries from the twenties that said, ‘Well I’m in New York, in truth it’s very boring, I’m going to Buenos Aires.’ Wow! What was the world like? New York today and Buenos Aires tomorrow, during the Belle Époque. The other day, someone came in from London. Her grandmother was married to one of the original owners and she’d visited the house as a child. In London, she’d heard about Milion through her friends. When she came in, she realized it was the house she’d come to when she was little.

On the house’s energy: It’s very magical, super powerful. I think the protection that it has with us is because we love it very much. Sounds like a movie about the house that talks, doesn’t it? But it’s got a lot of love. I think it has the energy of having been inhabited by only one family, and it’s rare to find that in Buenos Aires. They’re all remodeled like schools and banks.

On handpicking DJs and musical criteria: There’s Lea Lopatín, Lea is more of a rocker, but I think he has a very elegant touch when it comes to playing music. I met this guy called Monsieur Julien, who sent me a set and I found it so exquisite. You also do things I like, I met you here through friends, you brought me a record. When I play music, I say I’m a musicalizador. Right now, I’m very very crazy with everything that comes from Denmark, Sweden. I hate the term “dance,” and when DJs say “I have dance music.” “Chill-out” is another term I hate. I don’t like playing the dance music typical of the clubs in Miami, those cheap clubs. I detest that. It has nothing to do with the house.

On the resident cat: Emilio’s a mix, a street cat with a Siamese cat. He lives here, he grew up here, he’s loved here. He protects the house. He gets on people, he gets on the bar. He’s the most loved among all the people working here.

On the clientele: Everything good about Milion is love stories. Many people marry here. They fall in love, marry, they have children. Then they split up, but oh well, it’s okay. Milion is very much love, it always was. I have a large gay audience and I have a large foreign audience.There will be a couple of boys holding hands next to an elderly couple. I like to see Finnish women six feet tall at the bar. Europeans die when they see the house because in Europe, there’s no place like this. Because the rent is impossible. It’s incredible what it would cost. The media over there always treated us better than the local media, too.

Favorite spot besides Milion: A club I visited in Prague that was marvelous. It was like an old-fashioned house, I went three times. There were people dressed seductively, and they would sometimes offer you fruit. It was gay, but there were a lot of boys and girls who weren’t. That was great. There was the bar and then you’d move to the next room for dancing, then you’d go and there was a porno movie theater and it had one of those mazes that lights up. The name is indecipherable. It’s like Cjwklskzyk, I swear. I want to look it up, but it’s a whole lot of consonants all together.

Other pursuits: Apart from Milion, I’m making a project with pornographic photos.

Translated by Christine-Marie Andrieu Photo by Oz Gonzalez

The Top 5 Closed-Door Restaurants in Buenos Aires

Unlike the States, where pesky codes and laws interrupt the dreams of gourmets with culinary skills but no official space, Buenos Aires and its bribe-friendly approach to these matters means that anyone who wants to can give restauranteering a shot. A wet dream for chefs, foodies, and trend-piece writers, puerta cerradas offers a different sort of dining experience focused on elaborate menus and more attentive service. Whether it’s a less wussy approach to spices, savory Italian fare, or a full-on feast, many of the city’s closed-door restaurants provide a tasty alternative to Palermo’s latest fusion misstep. In case you can’t possibly swallow another steak, here are the city’s five best closed-door restaurants, reservations definitely required in advance.

Casa Felix. Well-known Chacarita puerta cerrada that deserves all the good press it gets. New York Times-approved and vegetarian-friendly, this closed-door restaurant is run by a dreamy and socially adept husband-wife team. This means no awkward theme nights or halting conversation, just a delicious five-course meal with some free booze to start the evening.

Cocina Sunae. Korean-American female chef whips up some of the city’s freshest Southeast Asian dishes in a cozy Colegiales apartment. Relaxed dinners outside of the steak and malbec tradition a great alternative to pricier Barrio Chino fare. Her spicy and authentic dishes have even managed to attract ambassadors—fancy!

Scenna&Santella. Gregarious and charming Porteno-Yankee duo skilled in the art of Italian cuisine, atmosphere-crafting. Rather than weekly dinners, they focus on monthly meals beloved by both visitors and locals. Five-course affairs are demure and delicious, while 50-peso gourmet pizza nights feature a strong-armed, well-dressed waitstaff slinging pies to hungry-looking models and local scenesters.

Mis Raices. The oldest closed-door restaurant in the city actually opened its doors a quarter-century ago, beating everyone else on this list by at least a decade. Run by the sweetest Jewish grandmother in town, whose take on traditional cuisine is delicious and decadent. Fasting the day-of is recommended, lest you not finish all that’s on your plate. If a 10 o’clock dinner is too late for your own grandmother, make reservations for lunch on a Sunday instead.

La Cocina Discreta. Local bohemian couple opens their Villa Crespo digs for dinner on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Mix of traditional staples and international flourishes manages to stay on the right side of fusion cuisine, while space for only 18 means that no matter what, your dinner will be intimate. Three-course menu and wine selection slightly more formal without wandering into froufrou territory.