The Official Men's Magazine Thread | Page 382 | the Fashion Spot

The Official Men's Magazine Thread

^ The movie's official release is in November. I'm guessing whoever is distributing the film is starting the Oscar campaign early, and the first thing to tackle is people's goodwill towards Eddie playing the role. I know there have been some complaints about a cis-gendered male actor portraying a transgender woman (I don't agree that it's an issue) so by featuring Eddie promoting the film in things magazines like OUT can only be a smart move.
Thanks for sharing and I agree, hope all turns out great.
 
Ugh. GQ.
I was expecting balls this September, so this is a surprise. But not a pleasant one... I would have preferred another basketball player jumping.

"33 pages of"... 33? I wouldn't write that on the cover... It's not that impressive GQ.
 
Maxim September 2015: Idris Elba by ?



maxim.com

well surprised that a guy is fronting this magazine, and it looks way better than GQ's sept issue
 
Can I just say that I hate that all the mens magazines are relegated to one thread while the women, for the most part, get their own. This shouldn't be the case at all and mens fashion is already suffering from lack of awareness. Women fashion is not more important than that of men, regardless of men always having to take a back sit in this industry!
 
^ Absolutely agree with you. On another note, why is Idris Elba wearing a female looking coat on the cover of Maxim with an unflattering body pose? This cover looks very amateur too.
 
GQ US September 2015: Stephen Colbert Photographs by Sebastian Kim










Story: Joel Lovell
It was early July, about nine weeks before the debut of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, and we were sitting in his temporary office above a BMW dealership on the far west side of Manhattan. He looked very tired, and he was apologizing (unnecessarily) for rambling on in a way that was maybe a little uncomfortably overemotional. “I didn't leave the studio until 2 A.M. last night,” he said. “Didn't get to bed until three, and I've been traveling and just got here—.”

He'd been up late doing a strange stunt the night before, stepping in unannounced as host of Only in Monroe, a local public-access program in Monroe, Michigan, about forty miles south of Detroit. There was all sorts of pressure on their first show, he said. “First show! First show! Well, **** the first show. There's going to be 202 this year—how do you do a first one? So I just wanted to go do a show someplace. And now we've done it.”

The idea was to do Only in Monroe more or less as it always is—same production values, same set and graphics and crew—just a ton more jokes. His first guests were the show's regular hosts, Michelle Bowman and (former Miss America) Kaye Lani Rae Rafko Wilson. (Colbert on-air: “I'm not sure how many people that is.”) He did Monroe news and the Monroe calendar, and about twenty minutes in, he brought out his next guest, “a local Michigander who is making a name for himself in the competitive world of music, Marshall Mathers.”


We were talking about the logistics involved in pulling off something like this, and how great it felt for him to be improvising in front of a camera again, and the curious tensions that popped up in his interview with Eminem. And then we got onto the subject of discomfort and disorientation, and the urge he has to seek out those feelings, and from there it was a quick jump to the nature of suffering. Before long we were sitting there with a plate of roast chicken and several bottles of Cholula on the table between us, both of us rubbing tears from our eyes. “The level of emotion you're getting from me right now—I'm not saying it's dishonest,” he said. “I'm just saying it's not normal. I'd really love to go to bed. I promise you, I do not spend my time on the edge of tears.”

I've easily played the recording of that conversation a dozen times, only one of them in order to transcribe. And while we spent plenty of time talking about comedy and the conventions of late-night and the sheer practical challenge of doing a show twice as long as his old one—the thing I've been thinking about the most since my time with Colbert is loss. The losses he's experienced in his life, yes, but really the meaning we all make of our losses. Deaths of loved ones, the phases of our children's lives hurtling by, jobs and relationships we never imagined would end. All of it. Among other things, our lives are compendiums of loss and change and what we make of it. I've never met anyone who's faced that reality more meaningfully than Stephen Colbert. I suppose, more than anything, that's what this story is about.

Also: ball jokes. Or the absence of them. They're doing network now, after all, and Colbert has declared a moratorium on ball jokes. (I believe I was present for the last one. It involved Greece and the Eurozone—and Paul Krugman's balls.)

They did the public-access show live at midnight, with no advance publicity and no Twitter or Facebook posts afterward. The only way the world would ever know that it happened is if someone, an insomniac or an inmate or one of the show's twelve viewers, looked up at the screen at some point and recognized Colbert hanging out with Eminem next to the potted plant. Maybe that person would tell somebody, and maybe that other person would tweet about it.

“I have to check right now to see how many people have seen this ****er,” Colbert said. “When we showed it at midnight, nobody watched it. I mean nobody.... We dug a hole in the backyard, yelled a show into it, then covered it up with dirt and said, ‘Don't tell anybody.’ ”

Someone must have spotted him on the show's morning rerun, because Twitter was beginning to light up in confusion and amazement. “YouTube has frozen the count,” he said. “They usually do that when people are hitting it so fast they go, ‘Wait, this might be bots.’ ” He seemed really pleased with how this experiment in pure virality was playing out. “We worked really hard for no one to know it was happening,” he said, “to see if anybody would know that it was happening.”

The question that has been hanging over the entire Late Show staff since last December, when Colbert put to rest the righteous blowhard he'd played for the past nine years, was: Who will he be now that he's no longer in character? How will his style change—and his opinions be expressed—if he's not delivering his jokes through an imbecile's mouth? When you're speaking to a huge swath of America each night, can you still carry a knife?

It's interesting to watch his interview with Eminem with this in mind. The whole thing is great, but there are a few spots that are electric, because we assume that Eminem is in on the conceit—that Colbert is playing a character who is aggressively ignorant of who he is—and yet he appears in these moments to be totally baffled by what's going on. “I'm so confused right now,” Eminem says at one point. “I'm trying to figure out if you're serious.” Colbert remains stubbornly, insultingly in character. “I'd like to apologize,” he says, “if you're a bigger deal than I know about.” Eminem stares back at him in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?” he says again. “I'm trying to figure out if you're serious right now.” Colbert straightens in his chair. “You seem pretty mad,” he says. And it's true, he does! If Eminem's reaction were purely a performance, there would be a very different energy there. We'd just be watching two guys play make-believe. But something else is going on. It's so subtle and (I imagine) unintentional, but in his sly execution of the conceit, Colbert is pushing them toward something more real than if he'd played it straight—difficult questions of ego and fame.

“I don't know what parts of the interview he, like, truly doesn't know what the ****'s going on,” Colbert said. “But yeah, I think there were times when he was genuinely confused.”

Shedding the suit of the high-status dummy he played for nine years has liberated him to do the comedy he really wants to do, he said. Whatever comes next—however he shape-shifts between being recognizably himself and playing a veiled or not-so-thinly-veiled character—the motivation will be all his. “I just want to do things that scratch an itch for me. That itch is often something that feels wrong. It's wrong because it breaks convention or is unexpected or at times uncomfortable. I like that feeling.”

The old character was “a continual style joke,” he said, and that style, punditry, had been a reaction to a time when O'Reilly and Limbaugh and the rest of the shouters exerted a real gravitational pull on the American psyche. For however often Jon Stewart and Colbert dismissed the notion that they had any mission beyond the (very difficult) one of telling great jokes, they had become a portal through which viewers made sense of American insanity. Their shows served as dense clouds of satirical antimatter.

And then things changed, slowly. America is different now. There will never be a shortage of daily atrocities to be satirized, but Colbert began to strain against the limitations of the character he played—“to have to pull everything through the keyhole of his worldview.” Even before CBS offered him the Late Show gig, he had decided to shut The Colbert Report down.

“I no longer felt that that model served to address the national mood,” he said. Ten years ago, the country was palpably more afraid and angry. “We're in a different place now.” Gay marriage. The reasonable and occasionally unifying course of the Obama administration. “We can stop freaking out that the guy's middle name is Hussein,” he said. “What else? Our response to the horror in South Carolina is to take the flag down. That is something I didn't think was ever going to happen.”

Publishing bylaws practically require a comparison at this point between the styles of Jimmy and Conan and James and Jimmy and Seth and Carson and now Colbert. But it feels silly to think about him in those terms. He's so unlike anyone else on television, or even anyone in TV memory, that the real question becomes what kind of public figure will emerge over time, and how much influence he'll have beyond the nightly delivery of great jokes (again, so hard to do that!).

When I raised the idea that he was one of the country's few public moral intellectuals, and that there were plenty of people out there wondering how that role might express itself in the new show, he said, “I have a morality. I don't know if it's the best morality. And I do like thinking. If people perceive that as a moral intellectualism, that's fine. That's up to them to decide. A friend of mine once said, ‘If someone says you're influencing them, then you're influential. It's not up for you to say. You can't take that away from them.’ But it's entirely not my intention. This I promise you. Because that's a short road to being a comedian in all seriousness. ‘As a comedian, in all seriousness, let me not entertain you.’ ”

Three days after the massacre in Charleston, Colbert returned to his hometown to lay flowers at the steps of Emanuel AME and join the peace march across the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge. He described it as the most moving and affirming gathering he'd ever witnessed. I know I wasn't alone, though, in wishing he had been on the air—and not because the country needed a laugh, obviously. What the country needed was a model for how to see and think and be. Jon Stewart went a long way toward providing that, with his I have no jokes opening monologue and his quiet, contained-rage attack on political opportunism. But the voice I selfishly longed for was Colbert's.

“We would have done it, if we had to,” he said when I asked if any part of him had felt a desire to talk about it on the air. “But no,” he said. “It's such an old form of a particular evil. Such a pure form, that it feels very old. It was like a dragon showed up. Like, yeah, there used to be dragons. I didn't know there still were dragons…and I don't necessarily crave facing that dragon with my little sword.” He paused for a moment and looked down at the table. “Tragedy is sacred,” he said. “People's suffering is sacred.”

more at gq.com/story/stephen-colbert-gq-cover-story

source: text and photos GQ.com
 
Last edited by a moderator:
I do think Colbert is very relevant right now, is a good cover choice, and I love the suit, but the cover seems too silly since they just had another silly cover last month. That one was appropriate, since it was the comedy issue. This one, not so much.
 
I'm really getting bored of GQ US's cover styles when it comes to photography and posing, they really need to mix it up.
 
GQ Espana September 2015: Rafael Nadal


facebook.com/GQEspana
 
GQ Thailand September 2015: Oliver Cheshire


facebook.com/gqmagazinethailand
 
Esquire Singapore September 2015: Henry Cavill


facebook.com/esquiresg
 
Esquire Malaysia September 2015: Tommy Hilfiger


facebook.com/esquiremy
 
Love the Esquire Singapore cover but just wish the background was darker.
 

Users who are viewing this thread

New Posts

Forum Statistics

Threads
215,146
Messages
15,288,037
Members
89,037
Latest member
findingkandee
Back
Top