On a day filled with awesome trailers and the kind of blog-friendly public stupidity you can't make up, I must sadly bid farewell for what will probably be the entire month of July. You see, our small ISP is no longer providing service as of tomorrow, and since we're moving on July 30, there's no point in trying to get a one-month hook-up. And yes, several of you have pointed out that I could go to the library to do this; however, here in Oakville, that requires two buses and, with the wait time, nearly one hour each way of travel time on top of an indeterminate wait to use a computer (which can be a long time. Oakville library users are computer hogs.). I could say something about Oakville Transit at this time, but it would be 99% angry expletives. Add it to the list of Things I Won't Miss About Ontario (currently on the list: everything).
Now, back to what provides so very much blog fodder: the aforementioned public stupidity. Due to a severely understaffed (and hence, backlogged) municipal justice system, and the recent closure of all night courts, the city of Toronto hasn't been giving timely trial dates to people contesting $30 parking tickets. These are the tickets for basic violations, like parking in places that have big signs saying "no parking". As a result, people have discovered in droves that they can, in essence, park wherever they please and face no consequences. A city councilor, trying to show that he's all for the little guy, told the Toronto Star that the lack of timely trial dates enabling people to get away with unpaid tickets has turned Toronto into a city of scofflaws. That's right, it's the city's fault that people are abusing the (flawed) system and using their sense of entitlement to break the law and make a mess of the streets (and deliberately contribute to the city's insane traffic congestion that everyone complains about incessantly). If only the municipal justice system were more efficient, the good people of Toronto wouldn't break the law.
That's so dumb (and empirically false) on so many sociological, philosophical, psychological, and ethical levels that I won't debase myself by writing a refutation. It was just so mind-boggling that I needed to share my disbelief with as many people as possible.
But let's end the month on a happy note. Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't already seen it - or just want to see it again - I give you the first official trailer for Quantum of Solace! Woop woop woop!
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Kiss kiss, bang bang, talking monkey, only says "ficus"
What do you get when you cross a sad sack "professional" thief trying to make his mark on Hollywood, a suave P.I. with a penchant for grammar and a low tolerance for idiots, and a wannabe small-town actress with a short fuse and a dead sister? Val Kilmer, Robert Downey Jr., and Michelle Monaghan (Gone Baby Gone) in a sharp-as-diamonds neo-noir that would've been a guilty pleasure if not for the fact that it wasn't exploitative: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
Now you might be saying, Elly, how on earth could a film involving a corpse that won't stay in one place (and its subsequent frequent accidental desecration), a missing finger, gender stereotype role-reversal, man-on-man kissing, and copious use of the f-word not be exploitative? Answer: when the writer, director (who, in this case, are the same person), and actors know what they're doing.
For one thing, when I say KKBB is a neo-noir, I mean it. It is a film noir in every sense of the genre, but being a neo-noir, in the tradition of The Big Lebowski (which I believe was the first of the neos, correct me if I'm wrong) and Brick (released the same year as KKBB), the humour is blacker than black. That's not to say that there aren't any funny moments that aren't awkward, not with this script - at the beginning of the film, Downey Jr.'s character answers a question about what he does for a living with a deadpan, "I'm retired. I invented dice as a kid" - but the majority of the jokes are based on the fact that, when faced with such shocking and "how the HELL did I wind up here???" situations, there's nothing else to do but laugh. As a noir, the writer borrows heavily from Raymond Chandler to brilliant effect, resulting in the film being divided up into day-long chapters - each with a title referencing a Chandler novel - and Downey Jr.'s genius fourth-wall narration.
Let's talk about the characters. As a thief/actor from the East coast, Downey Jr.'s Harry is a fish out of water in the bizarre alternate universe that is L.A., and he plays that for all the bewilderment and sympathy it's worth, with great results. I'm so glad that Downey got back on his feet - he's made everyone notice in the last few years that the industry really was worse off without him. Val Kilmer's private detective to the acting set, Gay Perry (who is, yes, gay), defies every conventional screen portrayal of the homosexual by being so confident in both his self and his job that his sexual orientation is only part of the story inasmuch as the role it plays in his personality (and his nickname). Cool, suave, smart, and very good at his job, Perry has zero tolerance for both bad grammar and idiots - much to Harry's detriment. On top of that, he's the perfect picture of male petulance - not immature, not effete, not snobbish, just...petulant. To unbelievable comic effect. The relationship born of necessity between Harry and Perry, though peppered with Perry's hilarious dialogue, never feels put on or false. This has as much to do with the writing as with the first-rate pair of actors.
Especially fascinating is Michelle Monaghan's Harmony, a woman who, as a child, watch her father sexually abuse her younger sister, and escaped first into old-school detective novels and second to L.A., hoping to make it big so that she could help her sister, waiting for the big break that never came. In a significant and timely gender role reversal, Harmony has no respect for her body. She is willing to put out for the least of reasons , and, when she mistakenly thinks Harry has groped her, quickly tempers her initial outrage by brushing it off as normal, resulting in a shocked and disbelieving lecture from Harry, who recognizes the tragedy of her having come to see herself in this way. Yes, in this film, it's the woman who is unashamedly and destructively promiscuous, but instead of condemning her for a slut, the writer is concerned with just how horrific and tragic the self-image (and abuse) that spawned this behaviour is. Much later in the film, Perry encounters the father, now elderly, bed-ridden, and completely unrepentant, and hits him as retribution for him having abused his young daughter, who was equally defenseless. It is a very powerful scene. The whole story is very careful, compassionate, and though-provoking. The whole film, in many ways, plays as a tragedy, and that is how such events as the unfortunate traveling corpse are kept from being exploitative.
Oh, and the epilogue is, forgive me for using this word so much in one post....brilliant.
If you want something clever, smart, and very, very funny, and don't mind the fact that swearing and nudity, though not exploitative, are part of the package, I can't think of a more successful movie than Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
Now you might be saying, Elly, how on earth could a film involving a corpse that won't stay in one place (and its subsequent frequent accidental desecration), a missing finger, gender stereotype role-reversal, man-on-man kissing, and copious use of the f-word not be exploitative? Answer: when the writer, director (who, in this case, are the same person), and actors know what they're doing.
For one thing, when I say KKBB is a neo-noir, I mean it. It is a film noir in every sense of the genre, but being a neo-noir, in the tradition of The Big Lebowski (which I believe was the first of the neos, correct me if I'm wrong) and Brick (released the same year as KKBB), the humour is blacker than black. That's not to say that there aren't any funny moments that aren't awkward, not with this script - at the beginning of the film, Downey Jr.'s character answers a question about what he does for a living with a deadpan, "I'm retired. I invented dice as a kid" - but the majority of the jokes are based on the fact that, when faced with such shocking and "how the HELL did I wind up here???" situations, there's nothing else to do but laugh. As a noir, the writer borrows heavily from Raymond Chandler to brilliant effect, resulting in the film being divided up into day-long chapters - each with a title referencing a Chandler novel - and Downey Jr.'s genius fourth-wall narration.
Let's talk about the characters. As a thief/actor from the East coast, Downey Jr.'s Harry is a fish out of water in the bizarre alternate universe that is L.A., and he plays that for all the bewilderment and sympathy it's worth, with great results. I'm so glad that Downey got back on his feet - he's made everyone notice in the last few years that the industry really was worse off without him. Val Kilmer's private detective to the acting set, Gay Perry (who is, yes, gay), defies every conventional screen portrayal of the homosexual by being so confident in both his self and his job that his sexual orientation is only part of the story inasmuch as the role it plays in his personality (and his nickname). Cool, suave, smart, and very good at his job, Perry has zero tolerance for both bad grammar and idiots - much to Harry's detriment. On top of that, he's the perfect picture of male petulance - not immature, not effete, not snobbish, just...petulant. To unbelievable comic effect. The relationship born of necessity between Harry and Perry, though peppered with Perry's hilarious dialogue, never feels put on or false. This has as much to do with the writing as with the first-rate pair of actors.
Especially fascinating is Michelle Monaghan's Harmony, a woman who, as a child, watch her father sexually abuse her younger sister, and escaped first into old-school detective novels and second to L.A., hoping to make it big so that she could help her sister, waiting for the big break that never came. In a significant and timely gender role reversal, Harmony has no respect for her body. She is willing to put out for the least of reasons , and, when she mistakenly thinks Harry has groped her, quickly tempers her initial outrage by brushing it off as normal, resulting in a shocked and disbelieving lecture from Harry, who recognizes the tragedy of her having come to see herself in this way. Yes, in this film, it's the woman who is unashamedly and destructively promiscuous, but instead of condemning her for a slut, the writer is concerned with just how horrific and tragic the self-image (and abuse) that spawned this behaviour is. Much later in the film, Perry encounters the father, now elderly, bed-ridden, and completely unrepentant, and hits him as retribution for him having abused his young daughter, who was equally defenseless. It is a very powerful scene. The whole story is very careful, compassionate, and though-provoking. The whole film, in many ways, plays as a tragedy, and that is how such events as the unfortunate traveling corpse are kept from being exploitative.
Oh, and the epilogue is, forgive me for using this word so much in one post....brilliant.
If you want something clever, smart, and very, very funny, and don't mind the fact that swearing and nudity, though not exploitative, are part of the package, I can't think of a more successful movie than Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
Mad Men 2: Judgment Day
I posted earlier about the Mad Men pilot, the series having now aired on CTV for a month. From the pilot, it was hard to tell whether the show was over the top or sharp. I've now come to the conclusion that the majority of its critical acclaim is due to good acting, a unique setting, and probably a little nostalgia - not the quality of the show itself.
They've kept up with the heavy-handedness of the stereotypes of the time - surely there's a way to demonstrate the realities of things like institutional anti-Semitism and pregnant women drinking like it's going out of style without being so "look! Look! Aren't they backwards???" as I find Mad Men has been. And they're plunging into the generic "man works long hours, cheats on family" storyline with both feet, again quite heavily, and bringing nothing especially interesting to the table - despite the overarching contemporary contempt for the submissive retro housewife, the show isn't doing anything to overturn that into sympathy for the woman, resulting in an affair as about un-dramatic as they come. How can an audience be invested in a woman being wronged by her husband if it thinks that woman is spineless and backwards? I feel like every character is a caricature. The small-town typist determined to make it in the business by putting out is still going strong, as is the hard-drinking, chain smoking, casually unpleasant head of the firm. The message? Corporations are bad. Corporations ruin lives. Corporations pervert people. People who run corporations are bad. Cry me a river, but try to keep it down so I can sleep. If you're going to fall back on such an overdone theme, it's just got to be executed in a more interesting fashion than Mad Men is doing.
It has it's fleeting moments, like a surprisingly tender scene involving Vincent Kartheiser's irresponsible, cutthroat yuppie playboy Peter realizing that one of the unique joys of a newlywed is knowing that someone who loves you will be there when you get home, but even these moments of potential character growth are quickly overturned, House-style, by the tired idea that people don't change. The biggest problem with a TV series relying on that idea is that stagnation is boring - there's nothing dramatic about characters who stay the same. I've said it before and I'll say it again, that is why Battlestar Galactica succeeds so well: its characters either get better or get worse, but they don't stagnate; and the only character who does stagnate, Gaius Baltar, is fascinating because of he is surrounded by constantly growing humans and Cylons alike. One character who stagnates is an intriguing contrast. A whole cast of them is painfully dull.
And there you have it.
They've kept up with the heavy-handedness of the stereotypes of the time - surely there's a way to demonstrate the realities of things like institutional anti-Semitism and pregnant women drinking like it's going out of style without being so "look! Look! Aren't they backwards???" as I find Mad Men has been. And they're plunging into the generic "man works long hours, cheats on family" storyline with both feet, again quite heavily, and bringing nothing especially interesting to the table - despite the overarching contemporary contempt for the submissive retro housewife, the show isn't doing anything to overturn that into sympathy for the woman, resulting in an affair as about un-dramatic as they come. How can an audience be invested in a woman being wronged by her husband if it thinks that woman is spineless and backwards? I feel like every character is a caricature. The small-town typist determined to make it in the business by putting out is still going strong, as is the hard-drinking, chain smoking, casually unpleasant head of the firm. The message? Corporations are bad. Corporations ruin lives. Corporations pervert people. People who run corporations are bad. Cry me a river, but try to keep it down so I can sleep. If you're going to fall back on such an overdone theme, it's just got to be executed in a more interesting fashion than Mad Men is doing.
It has it's fleeting moments, like a surprisingly tender scene involving Vincent Kartheiser's irresponsible, cutthroat yuppie playboy Peter realizing that one of the unique joys of a newlywed is knowing that someone who loves you will be there when you get home, but even these moments of potential character growth are quickly overturned, House-style, by the tired idea that people don't change. The biggest problem with a TV series relying on that idea is that stagnation is boring - there's nothing dramatic about characters who stay the same. I've said it before and I'll say it again, that is why Battlestar Galactica succeeds so well: its characters either get better or get worse, but they don't stagnate; and the only character who does stagnate, Gaius Baltar, is fascinating because of he is surrounded by constantly growing humans and Cylons alike. One character who stagnates is an intriguing contrast. A whole cast of them is painfully dull.
And there you have it.
I'll Bite
Normally, TV advertising is the necessary scourge of my existence that delivers my free network TV. Lately, there have been some truly brilliant - and, I must admit, enjoyable - ad campaigns, one from Subaru and the other from the Toronto Zoo. The Toronto Zoo ads, a spoof combining The Hunt for Red October (complete with the October Revolution theme!) and the sightseeing "I've never seen America!" captain from The Russians Are Coming! The Russians Are Coming!, and a Barrier Reef exhibit spot involving a one-eyed pirate who doesn't know how to share, are truly effective in their level of entertainment. They can be viewed here (the sub ad) and here (the pirate ad). Subaru's "Sexy SUV" campaign, a fantastic television spot I'll put at the end of this post and some newspaper ads designed to look like pinup calendars, has to be the best car commercial in my memory - we've come a long way from Saturn's ludicrously blasphemous (and narcissistically stupid) "The Car that will Save Your Soul" mid-90's campaign.
You'd think that in this age, where the contemporary consumer has a greater awareness and level of information regarding products and advertising - and violent hunger for constant entertainment - than ever before, more companies would put effort into commissioning ads that generate interest in their product because they (the ads) are entertaining. There's no excuse for any sufficiently profitable company to be putting out lazy, irritating ads that rely on base humour or stereotypes. Other companies that have recently been upping the bar in their TV spots are bottomless wallets Pepsi, with their "A Better Way to Feel Young" and Justin Timberlake ad series, Mars (bars), with their riff on medicine commercials, and Coke, with their current spot featuring a tongue and an eyeball arguing until the brain lays down the law (writing that, I realize how unappealingly bizarre it sounds, but trust me, it's brilliant).
Maybe Mad Men - which I'm sorry to report hasn't gotten better with time; more on that in another post - has upped my attention to advertising. Or maybe it's just because, for the first time since the conception of the Hershey's Kiss figure skating ads, there are actually several ads on TV that don't make me reach for the remote. Advertising this good and effective deserves some recognition, no?
The promised Subaru commercial: you won't be sorry.
You'd think that in this age, where the contemporary consumer has a greater awareness and level of information regarding products and advertising - and violent hunger for constant entertainment - than ever before, more companies would put effort into commissioning ads that generate interest in their product because they (the ads) are entertaining. There's no excuse for any sufficiently profitable company to be putting out lazy, irritating ads that rely on base humour or stereotypes. Other companies that have recently been upping the bar in their TV spots are bottomless wallets Pepsi, with their "A Better Way to Feel Young" and Justin Timberlake ad series, Mars (bars), with their riff on medicine commercials, and Coke, with their current spot featuring a tongue and an eyeball arguing until the brain lays down the law (writing that, I realize how unappealingly bizarre it sounds, but trust me, it's brilliant).
Maybe Mad Men - which I'm sorry to report hasn't gotten better with time; more on that in another post - has upped my attention to advertising. Or maybe it's just because, for the first time since the conception of the Hershey's Kiss figure skating ads, there are actually several ads on TV that don't make me reach for the remote. Advertising this good and effective deserves some recognition, no?
The promised Subaru commercial: you won't be sorry.
...and it keeps getting better
Even more to look forward to on the small screen this fall: news that Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (New Amsterdam) will be starring in Virtuality, a new show from Battlestar Galactica producers Ronald Moore and Michale Taylor about Earth's first true starship. I really enjoyed Coster-Waldau on New Amsterdam, and everyone (well, except my mother-in-law :D ) loves Battlestar, so I have as high hopes for this show as I do for its subsequent abrupt cancellation (it's on Fox). Have I become bitter, jaded, and cynical about the broadcast life of good network TV? Yes, yes I have. I just get too down when I hold out hope that such a series will actually last. After Journeyman bit the dust last fall with only 13 episodes, I gave up all expectations. The sudden deaths this year of New Amsterdam, Canterbury's Law, and Shark - all on Fox - didn't help my newfound cynicism one bit. Sigh.
In other news, Chris Noth, whose appeal has always been a mystery to me, will be replaced this fall on Law and Order: Criminal Intent by Jeff Goldblum, who I have always thought is the cat's best pyjamas. I'm less than wild about L&O as a franchise, and CI in particular, but, unfortunately, I will watch anything starring Jeff. I'll just be overjoyed to see him on TV again, while simultaneously depressed and grumpy the L&O flourishes while Goldblum's last series, Raines - a real cop show - was killed after seven episodes.
It's Friday. I'm still sick. I think I need some Jeff. I need to go to Blockbuster anyways, because they're about to charge Shall We Dansu to my account (which, in retrospect, maybe I should let them do...). Jurassic Park was on TV a couple of weeks ago, so maybe...gosh. Igby Goes Down? Far too much teen angst for a Friday. The Big Chill? I've never seen it, and it's an important film. Definitely and option. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou? Maybe, maybe. It does have a great soundtrack, and it has been four years since I last saw it, which is an acceptable turnaround time for Wes Anderson. Or perhaps I'll take the three-for-$9 deal and go kuh-RAY-zee!
Either way, you're guaranteed at least one more review before the super terrific happy hour goes on its forced month-long hiatus. You can all breathe a sigh of relief now.
In other news, Chris Noth, whose appeal has always been a mystery to me, will be replaced this fall on Law and Order: Criminal Intent by Jeff Goldblum, who I have always thought is the cat's best pyjamas. I'm less than wild about L&O as a franchise, and CI in particular, but, unfortunately, I will watch anything starring Jeff. I'll just be overjoyed to see him on TV again, while simultaneously depressed and grumpy the L&O flourishes while Goldblum's last series, Raines - a real cop show - was killed after seven episodes.
It's Friday. I'm still sick. I think I need some Jeff. I need to go to Blockbuster anyways, because they're about to charge Shall We Dansu to my account (which, in retrospect, maybe I should let them do...). Jurassic Park was on TV a couple of weeks ago, so maybe...gosh. Igby Goes Down? Far too much teen angst for a Friday. The Big Chill? I've never seen it, and it's an important film. Definitely and option. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou? Maybe, maybe. It does have a great soundtrack, and it has been four years since I last saw it, which is an acceptable turnaround time for Wes Anderson. Or perhaps I'll take the three-for-$9 deal and go kuh-RAY-zee!
Either way, you're guaranteed at least one more review before the super terrific happy hour goes on its forced month-long hiatus. You can all breathe a sigh of relief now.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Yay projects!
Here's some more good news in the upcoming projects mill: Roman Polanski is finally putting out a new thriller, a political one starring Nic Cage, Pierce Brosnan, and Tilda Swinton. Cage will play a ghost writer doing the memoirs of the British PM (Brosnan) who, in the process, uncovers secrets that bring about world peace. :p And by "bring about world peace" I mean, threaten his life, national security, etc. Swinton will play Brosnan's wife, and who's not looking forward to seeing her again?
On the TV front, the always fantastic Aidan Quinn and Rutger Hauer have joined the cast of an ABC pilot, The Prince of Motor City, inspired by Hamlet. Quinn plays their version of Claudius, and Hauer will be their version of the ghost. Gosh. It sounds like it'll be really good, but since Quinn's last incredible ABC series, Canterbury's Law, was dumped after seven or so episodes, and that fell under the popular category of lawyer shows, I'm not expecting a show based on the significantly less pop-culture popular Shakespeare to last any longer. But there's always room for surprises. Yessss!
On the TV front, the always fantastic Aidan Quinn and Rutger Hauer have joined the cast of an ABC pilot, The Prince of Motor City, inspired by Hamlet. Quinn plays their version of Claudius, and Hauer will be their version of the ghost. Gosh. It sounds like it'll be really good, but since Quinn's last incredible ABC series, Canterbury's Law, was dumped after seven or so episodes, and that fell under the popular category of lawyer shows, I'm not expecting a show based on the significantly less pop-culture popular Shakespeare to last any longer. But there's always room for surprises. Yessss!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Hello, old friend!
Sometimes, you know a movie is good. You remember that it is good. And then, you watch it again after several years...and you re-discover that it is great.
John Frankenheimer's Ronin (1998) is a smart, engaging tale of black ops espionage, with a mind-blowing internationally known all-star cast including Robert DeNiro (U.S.), Jean Reno (France), Stellan Skarsgaard (Sweden), Natascha McElhone (England), Jonathan Pryce (Wales), Sean Bean (England), and an important cameo from Michael Lonsdale (France). The back of the box bizarrely compares it to The French Connection, to which I say, it's a good thing I didn't see that first, or I'd never had watched Ronin. They have nothing in common - not genre, not quality, nothing.
From a tiny French cafe, six men and a woman make their way to a dingy warehouse where the men are given their assignment: recover a large silver case. What's in the case? That's none of their business, but both the Irish and the Russians are in an all-out bidding war (which both are willing to turn in to a shooting war) to own it. When one of the men screws the rest during the retrieval and makes off with the case, intending to get all the money for himself and becoming everyone's target, things go instantly SNAFU. Cue the pursuit.
This film does so much right; in many ways, I can't think of another film it can really be compared to. The scope of its audience is unparalleled thanks to the smart casting of one huge American star and several huge European stars, most of whom were already familiar faces in the U.S. at the time. The script is above reproach, every character well-conceived and consistent. DeNiro's Sam and Reno's Vincent, the veterans of the operation, speak like men who have spent the brunt of their lives doing this sort of work, and have the best dialogue of the film; Sean Bean's little fish trying to swim in a big pond is pathetically perfect. The car chases are some of the most insane true chases (by which I mean not digitally enhanced) you'll ever see. Most significantly, the whole film is grounded in Atmosphere. Even though it takes place entirely in France, the only time the setting is every pretty is during a fleeting scene at a Riviera hotel. The rest of the time, romantic Europe is just as claustrophobic and dirty as anywhere else. The two tunnels involved in car chases look like normal tunnels, filthy, in bad repair, and brightly lit with harsh fluorescents. Keeping it real grounds the story, and keeps it tense and honest - none of that romanticized Europe or glamorous, dark, sleek, sexy tunnels to chase through. In other words, director Frankenheimer is honest with his subject matter. Say it with me: black ops is not nice!
This would probably be the eighth time I've watched Ronin, and it's still as excellent as the first time around. So good to see you, old friend.
John Frankenheimer's Ronin (1998) is a smart, engaging tale of black ops espionage, with a mind-blowing internationally known all-star cast including Robert DeNiro (U.S.), Jean Reno (France), Stellan Skarsgaard (Sweden), Natascha McElhone (England), Jonathan Pryce (Wales), Sean Bean (England), and an important cameo from Michael Lonsdale (France). The back of the box bizarrely compares it to The French Connection, to which I say, it's a good thing I didn't see that first, or I'd never had watched Ronin. They have nothing in common - not genre, not quality, nothing.
From a tiny French cafe, six men and a woman make their way to a dingy warehouse where the men are given their assignment: recover a large silver case. What's in the case? That's none of their business, but both the Irish and the Russians are in an all-out bidding war (which both are willing to turn in to a shooting war) to own it. When one of the men screws the rest during the retrieval and makes off with the case, intending to get all the money for himself and becoming everyone's target, things go instantly SNAFU. Cue the pursuit.
This film does so much right; in many ways, I can't think of another film it can really be compared to. The scope of its audience is unparalleled thanks to the smart casting of one huge American star and several huge European stars, most of whom were already familiar faces in the U.S. at the time. The script is above reproach, every character well-conceived and consistent. DeNiro's Sam and Reno's Vincent, the veterans of the operation, speak like men who have spent the brunt of their lives doing this sort of work, and have the best dialogue of the film; Sean Bean's little fish trying to swim in a big pond is pathetically perfect. The car chases are some of the most insane true chases (by which I mean not digitally enhanced) you'll ever see. Most significantly, the whole film is grounded in Atmosphere. Even though it takes place entirely in France, the only time the setting is every pretty is during a fleeting scene at a Riviera hotel. The rest of the time, romantic Europe is just as claustrophobic and dirty as anywhere else. The two tunnels involved in car chases look like normal tunnels, filthy, in bad repair, and brightly lit with harsh fluorescents. Keeping it real grounds the story, and keeps it tense and honest - none of that romanticized Europe or glamorous, dark, sleek, sexy tunnels to chase through. In other words, director Frankenheimer is honest with his subject matter. Say it with me: black ops is not nice!
This would probably be the eighth time I've watched Ronin, and it's still as excellent as the first time around. So good to see you, old friend.
......................
This is pretty wierd....what's there to say, really? Looks fun, but...I mean....
Having gone to a school with a renowned illustration program, and meeting lots of budding illustrators, people coming up with something likes this kind of makes sense.
http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20208522,00.html
Having gone to a school with a renowned illustration program, and meeting lots of budding illustrators, people coming up with something likes this kind of makes sense.
http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20208522,00.html
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Franchement!
Franchement, je demeure trop longtemps a Ontario, car j'ai tout de fait oublie sauf pour avoir vu un emission sur TVA....
Bonne St. Jean-Baptiste, tout le monde! Vive le Quebec! Woo woo!
Bonne St. Jean-Baptiste, tout le monde! Vive le Quebec! Woo woo!
It is....Awesome.
Still sick. Very sick. Too sick to pay attention to new movies. Also, it's been an extremely slow week - the only big news has been the death of George Carlin, but I never cared for his comedy so there's no reason for me to give an obit.
But I can't leave you hanging, especially as the super terrific happy hour will see a sharp decline (or all together stop) in new content during the month of July, as our small internet company will cease to provide such at the end of June, and we're moving July 30th so there's no sense in getting a new provider...all this to say, enjoy the video. I think I "get" Hasslehoff; indeed, I think he's one of the more self-aware entertainers out there. I think he's like John Carpenter with Escape from New York - he knows what he's making, and he's having a heck of a good time doing it, and thus, we have a great time watching it. No wonder he's one of the biggest stars in Europe! I love this video. The Hoff's greatest moment.
But I can't leave you hanging, especially as the super terrific happy hour will see a sharp decline (or all together stop) in new content during the month of July, as our small internet company will cease to provide such at the end of June, and we're moving July 30th so there's no sense in getting a new provider...all this to say, enjoy the video. I think I "get" Hasslehoff; indeed, I think he's one of the more self-aware entertainers out there. I think he's like John Carpenter with Escape from New York - he knows what he's making, and he's having a heck of a good time doing it, and thus, we have a great time watching it. No wonder he's one of the biggest stars in Europe! I love this video. The Hoff's greatest moment.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Shall We Dansu
That's not a typo, that's the proper title of the 1997 Japanese sleeper hit that spawned the unfortunate 2004 American remake with correct spelling. I had the bad luck of watching that particular train wreck a few years ago with a roommate - I'll watch almost anything if it's free. At the time, I didn't know it wasn't an original film, until my husband enlightened me. Looking for a feel-good Friday film to watch while doped out on Tylenol Cold & Sinus, Shall We Dansu fit the bill quite well.
The film opens with a voice-over explaining how, in a culture in which husbands and wives don't even hold hands in public, the intimate embraces of Western ballroom dancing are regarded with deep suspicion. Our protagonist, Mr. Sugiyama (a wonderful, subtle performance by screen regular Koji Yakusho), is an accountant who, by 45 or so, has attained all of his goals - he is married, has a lovely teenage daughter, and has recently managed to buy them a house - with a yard. In a country so squeezed for space, this is huge. And that's the problem - having attained all his life goals, he feels lost and a bit depressed, because he sees nothing more to work toward. Going home on the train each night, he begins to notice a dance school visible from one of the train stops, and a lovely woman at the window. He eventually succumbs to temptation, overcomes the shame of entering a dance school, and begins to take lessons. Though his fascination is originally with the lovely young instructor - who turns out not to be his teacher - he gradually discovers the love of dance itself, and becomes a part of this joyful, somewhat clandestine community, along with his fellow male students (including a co-worker, the absolutely delightful Naoko Takenaka), and winds up partnering with a flamboyant widow in the Japanese Amateur Dance competition. Behind all this, his wife, originally happy that he is staying out and having some fun at night after a hard day's work, becomes suspicious of his routine and his perfume-scented shirts, and hires a comforting and hilarious private detective to confirm or deny her worst fears.
Seeing a story re-told in the context of a cultural polar opposite - in this case, the U.S.A. - sharply highlights the differences between the two. There are many reasons why this simply didn't translate as an American story. For one thing, in the U.S., a businessman taking up ballroom dancing may be regarded as eccentric, or endure some jokes about his sexual orientation, but it's hardly taboo in this highly sexualized environment. In Japan, a businessman taking up ballroom dancing risks losing all respect from his co-workers, and perhaps his family, for engaging in such public intimacy, and endures accusations of being a pervert. This is a far more serious situation than being the butt of a few jokes, and much more tense as the Japanese man actually has a lot to lose.
Another significant contrast between the two films is the fact that the Japanese actually value the hard work required to achieve the nice house, etc. - at the beginning of the film, Sugiyama's wife speaks of how she's glad that he's going out because he deserves it, for working so hard; she is happy for him, even though it means she's alone more at night, and his daughter also recognizes that her father is doing a good thing for them by working long hours. Sugiyama's American counterpart, however, is resented by his family for being away working the long hours that provide their material comforts. And, in the American version, the businessman is actually having a hardcore emotional affair, since it needs this tension due to the fact that the mere act of ballroom dancing provides no tension at all in this context.
But, the most striking contrast of all is that the American version is a film about the self. Though it includes the same cast of characters as the original, it's all about self-actualization and individual happiness, whereas the original is a story about community and the joy of partaking in an activity together. This is emphasized when the businessman and the young teacher finally share a dance - and instead of being alone on the floor, all about them, the whole room joins in. Shall We Dance? is a film about self-actualization and the fulfillment of the individual. Shall We Dansu is a film about...dance, and the essential core of community that is at the heart of the sport.
You'd think filmmakers would have learned just how much Japanese stories don't translate well into Western ones just from The Magnificent Seven - the most spectacular failure of a film I've ever seen, even before watching The Seven Samurai. Our two cultures are so very different; there is simply no equivalent in the West for most of the issues facing the Japanese. I must admit, I often feel extra-specially selfish after watching a Japanese film, because the majority of the are actual ensemble pieces, not simply in terms of having a large cast, but in terms of being a story about a community. There's a lot for us to re-learn from them.
Shall We Dansu is a beautiful, strong, thoroughly uplifting and well-executed tale, and nicely affirming of marriage. In my favourite exchange of the film, at the very beginning, Mrs. Sugiyama is telling her daughter at breakfast about how she feels badly that Mr. Sugiyama works so hard for them, and must get up so early, before both of them, and eats all alone. Her daughter asks, then why don't you get up and make breakfast for him?, to which she smiles and replies, because he says I don't have to. Her daughter says, "so that's what love is?", and she responds with a smile. Shall We Dansu says a lot about the sacrificial nature of love.
Ignore the remake, rent the original, and enjoy.
The film opens with a voice-over explaining how, in a culture in which husbands and wives don't even hold hands in public, the intimate embraces of Western ballroom dancing are regarded with deep suspicion. Our protagonist, Mr. Sugiyama (a wonderful, subtle performance by screen regular Koji Yakusho), is an accountant who, by 45 or so, has attained all of his goals - he is married, has a lovely teenage daughter, and has recently managed to buy them a house - with a yard. In a country so squeezed for space, this is huge. And that's the problem - having attained all his life goals, he feels lost and a bit depressed, because he sees nothing more to work toward. Going home on the train each night, he begins to notice a dance school visible from one of the train stops, and a lovely woman at the window. He eventually succumbs to temptation, overcomes the shame of entering a dance school, and begins to take lessons. Though his fascination is originally with the lovely young instructor - who turns out not to be his teacher - he gradually discovers the love of dance itself, and becomes a part of this joyful, somewhat clandestine community, along with his fellow male students (including a co-worker, the absolutely delightful Naoko Takenaka), and winds up partnering with a flamboyant widow in the Japanese Amateur Dance competition. Behind all this, his wife, originally happy that he is staying out and having some fun at night after a hard day's work, becomes suspicious of his routine and his perfume-scented shirts, and hires a comforting and hilarious private detective to confirm or deny her worst fears.
Seeing a story re-told in the context of a cultural polar opposite - in this case, the U.S.A. - sharply highlights the differences between the two. There are many reasons why this simply didn't translate as an American story. For one thing, in the U.S., a businessman taking up ballroom dancing may be regarded as eccentric, or endure some jokes about his sexual orientation, but it's hardly taboo in this highly sexualized environment. In Japan, a businessman taking up ballroom dancing risks losing all respect from his co-workers, and perhaps his family, for engaging in such public intimacy, and endures accusations of being a pervert. This is a far more serious situation than being the butt of a few jokes, and much more tense as the Japanese man actually has a lot to lose.
Another significant contrast between the two films is the fact that the Japanese actually value the hard work required to achieve the nice house, etc. - at the beginning of the film, Sugiyama's wife speaks of how she's glad that he's going out because he deserves it, for working so hard; she is happy for him, even though it means she's alone more at night, and his daughter also recognizes that her father is doing a good thing for them by working long hours. Sugiyama's American counterpart, however, is resented by his family for being away working the long hours that provide their material comforts. And, in the American version, the businessman is actually having a hardcore emotional affair, since it needs this tension due to the fact that the mere act of ballroom dancing provides no tension at all in this context.
But, the most striking contrast of all is that the American version is a film about the self. Though it includes the same cast of characters as the original, it's all about self-actualization and individual happiness, whereas the original is a story about community and the joy of partaking in an activity together. This is emphasized when the businessman and the young teacher finally share a dance - and instead of being alone on the floor, all about them, the whole room joins in. Shall We Dance? is a film about self-actualization and the fulfillment of the individual. Shall We Dansu is a film about...dance, and the essential core of community that is at the heart of the sport.
You'd think filmmakers would have learned just how much Japanese stories don't translate well into Western ones just from The Magnificent Seven - the most spectacular failure of a film I've ever seen, even before watching The Seven Samurai. Our two cultures are so very different; there is simply no equivalent in the West for most of the issues facing the Japanese. I must admit, I often feel extra-specially selfish after watching a Japanese film, because the majority of the are actual ensemble pieces, not simply in terms of having a large cast, but in terms of being a story about a community. There's a lot for us to re-learn from them.
Shall We Dansu is a beautiful, strong, thoroughly uplifting and well-executed tale, and nicely affirming of marriage. In my favourite exchange of the film, at the very beginning, Mrs. Sugiyama is telling her daughter at breakfast about how she feels badly that Mr. Sugiyama works so hard for them, and must get up so early, before both of them, and eats all alone. Her daughter asks, then why don't you get up and make breakfast for him?, to which she smiles and replies, because he says I don't have to. Her daughter says, "so that's what love is?", and she responds with a smile. Shall We Dansu says a lot about the sacrificial nature of love.
Ignore the remake, rent the original, and enjoy.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Shout Out: Andre Harden - Into the Wild
Our friend Andre's review of Sean Penn's Into the Wild is notable for being the first review I've read of it that doesn't degrade into either hero worship or insulting contempt for Chris McCandless. Andre's review brings something better into the mix: compassion for a misguided young man whose ideological missteps led to his death, sick and alone in the wilderness. As usual, when Andre reviews a film I'm already interested in seeing, he makes me want to watch it even more. As someone who's made a career out of studying and writing screenplays, Andre's film and book reviews are always astute and never fail to bring up interesting points. All this good reading, and all this history with my husband's family, and I've never even met the man - huzzah for the sweet, sweet interweb.
A Heartfelt Plea
I've been going through lots of old notebooks and school papers, deciding what to toss and what to keep as I pack our apartment for the move, and came across these timely words from Leo Tolstoy. I believe it was originally quoted in a book about Christians in the arts, for a paper I did on the necessity of poetic language for the expression of our faith and deepening our relationship with God:
"Attack me, I do this myself, but attack me rather than the path I follow and which I point out to anyone who asks me where I think it lies. If I know the way home and am walking along it drunkenly, is it any less the right way because I am staggering from side to side! If it is not the right way, then show me another way; but it I stagger and lose the way, you must help me, you must keep me on the true path, just as I am ready to support you. Do not mislead me, do not be glad that I have got lost, do not shout out joyfully: 'Look at him! He said he was going home, but there he is crawling into a bag!' No, do not gloat, but give me your help and support."So say we all.
Tropic Thunder
I've heard so much about this upcoming new addition to the current trend of R-rated comedies, starring Ben Stiller and Robert Downey, Jr. It's being advertised as a spoof of both old "based on a true story" 'Nam films and the filmmakers who made them, exemplified by Downey's character, an Australian method actor who undergoes plastic surgery in order to play an African-American role. Stiller portrays a "serious" actor struggling for big dramatic recognition, and Jack Black supports as a diva comedian in a role that pokes fun at Eddie Murphy.
I just watched the red-band trailer - that being the trailer that goes along with the R-rating as opposed to being approved for all audiences - and I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to it or not. The trailer was very funny and definitely showed a sharp hand in skewering its source material in all the right places, and Downey Jr. was just hilarious, and it also showed that the film will take most of the pages out of The Stuntman's book. (Never heard of it? It's a weird, obscure, not entirely good 70's satire in which Peter O'Toole plays a megalomaniac director who creates real danger instead of staged danger to psychologically torment his stunt man.) It had two great scenes spoofing Platoon, and it seems that the majority of the film's R-rating will come from language and gore - the end of the trailer features a particularly gross joke involving a real severed head that Stiller's character thinks is a prop.
So, it'll either sink much too far into tastelessness and triteness, or it will be an actually sharp satire, with strong performances. It's always hard to tell with a film featuring Ben Stiller. He's proven himself a very good actor in both comedic and dramatic spheres, when the film isn't purely a star vehicle for him and he has the right director keeping him in check - I think of particularly solid ensemble performances in Mystery Men and The Royal Tennenbaums. The trailer, and publicity for Tropic Thunder, does seem to indicate that the focus is on the ensemble rather than on Stiller, which is promising. Plus, if it pokes as much fun at Oliver "I Make The Deepest, Most Controversial Films In The WORLD!!!" Stone as it appears to, that'll also be a bonus in my book.
I'll rent it, unless it's playing at the Galaxy in Moose Jaw (which is where we'll be when it's released), in which case I'll probably coerce someone into going with me, because the Galaxy costs only 50 cents more than a new release from Blockbuster. And it has good screens and everything! I love Saskatchewan!
I just watched the red-band trailer - that being the trailer that goes along with the R-rating as opposed to being approved for all audiences - and I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to it or not. The trailer was very funny and definitely showed a sharp hand in skewering its source material in all the right places, and Downey Jr. was just hilarious, and it also showed that the film will take most of the pages out of The Stuntman's book. (Never heard of it? It's a weird, obscure, not entirely good 70's satire in which Peter O'Toole plays a megalomaniac director who creates real danger instead of staged danger to psychologically torment his stunt man.) It had two great scenes spoofing Platoon, and it seems that the majority of the film's R-rating will come from language and gore - the end of the trailer features a particularly gross joke involving a real severed head that Stiller's character thinks is a prop.
So, it'll either sink much too far into tastelessness and triteness, or it will be an actually sharp satire, with strong performances. It's always hard to tell with a film featuring Ben Stiller. He's proven himself a very good actor in both comedic and dramatic spheres, when the film isn't purely a star vehicle for him and he has the right director keeping him in check - I think of particularly solid ensemble performances in Mystery Men and The Royal Tennenbaums. The trailer, and publicity for Tropic Thunder, does seem to indicate that the focus is on the ensemble rather than on Stiller, which is promising. Plus, if it pokes as much fun at Oliver "I Make The Deepest, Most Controversial Films In The WORLD!!!" Stone as it appears to, that'll also be a bonus in my book.
I'll rent it, unless it's playing at the Galaxy in Moose Jaw (which is where we'll be when it's released), in which case I'll probably coerce someone into going with me, because the Galaxy costs only 50 cents more than a new release from Blockbuster. And it has good screens and everything! I love Saskatchewan!
Stan Winston: 1946-2008
Today, I mourn the passing of one of the greatest - and one of my favourite - makeup/FX makeup/special effects guys ever to grace Hollywood - and one who worked on some of the greatest sci-fi films yet made.
Stand Winston's makeup/FX makeup credits include Edward Scissorhands, Terminator 2, Batman Returns (Tim Burton), John Carpenter's The Thing, AI: Artificial Intelligence, and Constantine. As a special effects man, he created all alien effects for Aliens, as well as working on Jurassic Park, Big Fish, and, most recently, Iron Man. His Stan Winston Special Effects Studio worked on Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, and at the time of his death, Winston was the special effects supervisor on the new Terminator film, starring Christian Bale.
Seriously. What a guy. What a legacy. How greatly he'll be missed.
Stand Winston's makeup/FX makeup credits include Edward Scissorhands, Terminator 2, Batman Returns (Tim Burton), John Carpenter's The Thing, AI: Artificial Intelligence, and Constantine. As a special effects man, he created all alien effects for Aliens, as well as working on Jurassic Park, Big Fish, and, most recently, Iron Man. His Stan Winston Special Effects Studio worked on Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, and at the time of his death, Winston was the special effects supervisor on the new Terminator film, starring Christian Bale.
Seriously. What a guy. What a legacy. How greatly he'll be missed.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Disbeliefnet.com
All I can say is, good thing this isn't a Canadian-based site, or there would be hell to pay from our All-Knowing Overlords, aka the Human Rights Commission (now with 500% less right to appeal!). But seriously, I really don't see how this doesn't qualify as actual hate speech.
And Bill Maher thinks religious people are hypocrites. What a fool. If you're going to insult the majority of the world (disbeliefnet takes on all faiths, no matter how major or marginal), you could at least try to hide it in the pretext of legitimate debate and philosophical proofs. But hey, if Richard Dawkins can't be bothered to do that - and he cant, The God Delusion is overwhelming in its complete lack of attempt to engage established philosophical methods - why should a small fish like Maher?
It's not so much the fact that he thinks all religion is stupid that makes the site offensive, it's the virulently aggressive, hateful, and low-brow way in which he posits that idea. Seriously, this is even more junk-pop "philosophy" than Sam Harris. The "suggestion box" portion of the site makes it clear that they won't debase themselves to do something so mundane as give respect or a legitimate response to any dissenting e-mails they receive - those will just be something else to laugh at. Truly unbelievable. I'm always stunned that this sort of person believes they stand for freedom of speech.
And Bill Maher thinks religious people are hypocrites. What a fool. If you're going to insult the majority of the world (disbeliefnet takes on all faiths, no matter how major or marginal), you could at least try to hide it in the pretext of legitimate debate and philosophical proofs. But hey, if Richard Dawkins can't be bothered to do that - and he cant, The God Delusion is overwhelming in its complete lack of attempt to engage established philosophical methods - why should a small fish like Maher?
It's not so much the fact that he thinks all religion is stupid that makes the site offensive, it's the virulently aggressive, hateful, and low-brow way in which he posits that idea. Seriously, this is even more junk-pop "philosophy" than Sam Harris. The "suggestion box" portion of the site makes it clear that they won't debase themselves to do something so mundane as give respect or a legitimate response to any dissenting e-mails they receive - those will just be something else to laugh at. Truly unbelievable. I'm always stunned that this sort of person believes they stand for freedom of speech.
The Mist
This Steven King adaptation, from writer/director Frank Darabont, is pretty well summed-up by our good friend Andre Harden, so why don't you check out his review? Much appreciated by me, Andre makes some very helpful and astute observations regarding the human villain of the story, Marcia Gay Harden's psychotic, uber-fundamentalist self-declared prophetess, whose role was the most challenging thing for me to unravel and understand about this film.
Now, I'm not one of those (many) people who thinks that Darabont's The Shawshank Redemption is The Film To End All Films. That being said, I do like his work, from The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles all those years ago to more recent, hard-thinking gems like The Salton Sea and Collateral, and, of course, his tragically short-lived NBC series, Raines, starring Jeff Goldblum - which I think is the Police Procedural To End All Police Procedurals. Darabont excels at the human element of storytelling, and this is the strongest aspect of The Mist. His characters, and their interactions and reactions, are incredibly normal and natural, which is was makes this film so frightening - there's no sense that this couldn't happen to you. It was due to this that leads me to put the first 25 minutes of the story on par with John Carpenter's The Thing, which I hold up as the best of the genre. The human element, not the creatures, makes the story, and I believe that's how it should be.
My husband made a good observation as to why this pretty strong film was such a critical and commercial flop. While it successfully (and rightly) puts an axe and a match to the notion that humans are basically good and we don't need the trappings of civilization and authority to make us civilized, thus pissing off the humanists, it also goes hardcore on the fear-and-vengeance, violently prejudiced and hypocritical caricature of the fundamentalist Christian, thus pissing off the fundamentalist Christians. That being said, doing these things does force the viewer to think critically outside the light of the strong emotions these things provoke....but that's very hard to do, so many of us don't. As well, the heart of the story is a cautionary tale of what happens when people lose hope and give up, even in the face of a seemingly hopeless situation, and the ending is as shocking as it is bitter. Combine that with the ideological piss-off free-for-all, and you don't exactly have an easy film to like on your hands. If nothing else, you have to admit this film is gutsy.
Another comment on Mrs. Carmody, the fundamentalist nut-case (who shares a name with my very kind old grade 4 teacher). I've said before that why Stephen King succeeds where other horror writers fail is because he recognizes both good and evil as active forces interested in Man, and many of his works have included deus ex machina that are actually or implicitly God; as well, he has toyed a couple of times with the idea of God's grace in answering the prayers of desperate characters who don't necessarily believe in or love him. On the other hand, he also has displayed some pretty strong contempt for hypocrites and fundamentalists like Mrs. Carmody. But what really struck me about her was the sharp contrast to King's most famous prophetess, the kind, wise, loving, and very much in-tune with God Mother Abigail from The Stand. In fact, there are many parallels between The Mist and The Stand, and the problem with writing a masterpiece at such a young age is that no similar tales can add up, even ones from the same writer. The significant difference here, though, is that The Stand is about holding fast to hope, where The Mist is the exact opposite.
Before you watch The Mist, be assured that it is very, very disturbing. Not quite Anton Chiurgh disturbing, but it's up there. More like Wilford Brimley in The Thing disturbing. It's challenging, and it's interesting, and it is, at times, very gross, and it tells some very important stories. I can recommend it in good conscience.
Now, I'm not one of those (many) people who thinks that Darabont's The Shawshank Redemption is The Film To End All Films. That being said, I do like his work, from The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles all those years ago to more recent, hard-thinking gems like The Salton Sea and Collateral, and, of course, his tragically short-lived NBC series, Raines, starring Jeff Goldblum - which I think is the Police Procedural To End All Police Procedurals. Darabont excels at the human element of storytelling, and this is the strongest aspect of The Mist. His characters, and their interactions and reactions, are incredibly normal and natural, which is was makes this film so frightening - there's no sense that this couldn't happen to you. It was due to this that leads me to put the first 25 minutes of the story on par with John Carpenter's The Thing, which I hold up as the best of the genre. The human element, not the creatures, makes the story, and I believe that's how it should be.
My husband made a good observation as to why this pretty strong film was such a critical and commercial flop. While it successfully (and rightly) puts an axe and a match to the notion that humans are basically good and we don't need the trappings of civilization and authority to make us civilized, thus pissing off the humanists, it also goes hardcore on the fear-and-vengeance, violently prejudiced and hypocritical caricature of the fundamentalist Christian, thus pissing off the fundamentalist Christians. That being said, doing these things does force the viewer to think critically outside the light of the strong emotions these things provoke....but that's very hard to do, so many of us don't. As well, the heart of the story is a cautionary tale of what happens when people lose hope and give up, even in the face of a seemingly hopeless situation, and the ending is as shocking as it is bitter. Combine that with the ideological piss-off free-for-all, and you don't exactly have an easy film to like on your hands. If nothing else, you have to admit this film is gutsy.
Another comment on Mrs. Carmody, the fundamentalist nut-case (who shares a name with my very kind old grade 4 teacher). I've said before that why Stephen King succeeds where other horror writers fail is because he recognizes both good and evil as active forces interested in Man, and many of his works have included deus ex machina that are actually or implicitly God; as well, he has toyed a couple of times with the idea of God's grace in answering the prayers of desperate characters who don't necessarily believe in or love him. On the other hand, he also has displayed some pretty strong contempt for hypocrites and fundamentalists like Mrs. Carmody. But what really struck me about her was the sharp contrast to King's most famous prophetess, the kind, wise, loving, and very much in-tune with God Mother Abigail from The Stand. In fact, there are many parallels between The Mist and The Stand, and the problem with writing a masterpiece at such a young age is that no similar tales can add up, even ones from the same writer. The significant difference here, though, is that The Stand is about holding fast to hope, where The Mist is the exact opposite.
Before you watch The Mist, be assured that it is very, very disturbing. Not quite Anton Chiurgh disturbing, but it's up there. More like Wilford Brimley in The Thing disturbing. It's challenging, and it's interesting, and it is, at times, very gross, and it tells some very important stories. I can recommend it in good conscience.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Century Rain
It's very hard to find a new sci-fi, since so many books really can be judged by their covers, from the cheesy space-skank front flap to the back's promise of excitement and thrills like you've never seen before(!). So how do I do it? Well, sometimes I just go with the award winners. Enter Alastair Reynolds.
Century Rain combines the best elements of old-school noir with well-done hard, classic-style sci-fi, alternate history, and a good adventure under the careful eye of a master storyteller and skilled wordsmith. Set in a future universe in which the Earth has been purged of all organic life (and capability of sustaining such) by a plague of nanomachines, and the transference of information to digital mediums has misfired in the most tragic of fashions, three hundred years later an archaeologist named Verity Auger leads teams to the surface to search for any cultural artifacts - books, newspapers, recordings, anything that contains information regarding what was. When one of those trips goes seriously wrong under her command, her boss has the excuse he needs to pack her off on a trip through a newly discovered, highly unstable alien transit system in order to recover the belongings of a murdered intelligence agent. Why send an archaeologist when is sounds like a job for a spy? Because on the other end of that portal is Paris circa 1959, in a world where World War II never happened and thus neither did the need for advancing technology. This description doesn't do the plot justice, and indeed it is hard to describe without spoiling it. Suffice it to say that, on the Earth 2 end, is an American immigrant living in France for the past twenty years as a private detective, who is hired by the murdered agent's unsuspecting landlord to uncover the circumstances of her death. And then things start getting weird.
There are so many things Reynolds does right. The science element of the story is well-thought, and not over-explained, but still, if you're the sort who feels robbed by a film that has a too high ratio of science to action, you may be in for a disappointment. The European detective noir side of the story is spot-on and as enjoyable as any I've read. Above all, Reynolds doesn't pander. The ending is so satisfying, because it doesn't contradict the reasonable path of the story for the sake of making the audience feel good (this is not to say it's tragic). And he writes for fans of the genre without being a snob about it. In a favourite moment, Verity enters a government building and notices a robot stamped with a crossed-out "A", meaning that it is not Asimov-compliant, and becomes very uneasy. Now, I know what this means, so it's as funny as it is creepy. Reynolds clearly states that A means not Asimov-compliant - thus giving enough information to not be a prig about it - but doesn't explain what that means, thus respecting both the readership who knows what he's talking about, and the rest, who can look it up. This moment is indicative of his easy skill and quality of storytelling, and respect for the audience that he maintains throughout the whole book. Really, the hero of this story is consistency.
(Alright, there are a few minor anachronisms, such as when Reynolds, a Brit, forgets that he's writing dialogue for Americans and has one of them refer several times to a flashlight as a torch. But that's the extent of his indiscretions.)
My favourite thing, though, is seeing a heroine whose name is significant without being corny or in your face. Verity Auger - literally, "truth digger". What a brilliant name for an archaeologist, particularly one in her unique situation and universe.
This book gets an A+, and I'm looking forward to picking up more of his work.
Century Rain combines the best elements of old-school noir with well-done hard, classic-style sci-fi, alternate history, and a good adventure under the careful eye of a master storyteller and skilled wordsmith. Set in a future universe in which the Earth has been purged of all organic life (and capability of sustaining such) by a plague of nanomachines, and the transference of information to digital mediums has misfired in the most tragic of fashions, three hundred years later an archaeologist named Verity Auger leads teams to the surface to search for any cultural artifacts - books, newspapers, recordings, anything that contains information regarding what was. When one of those trips goes seriously wrong under her command, her boss has the excuse he needs to pack her off on a trip through a newly discovered, highly unstable alien transit system in order to recover the belongings of a murdered intelligence agent. Why send an archaeologist when is sounds like a job for a spy? Because on the other end of that portal is Paris circa 1959, in a world where World War II never happened and thus neither did the need for advancing technology. This description doesn't do the plot justice, and indeed it is hard to describe without spoiling it. Suffice it to say that, on the Earth 2 end, is an American immigrant living in France for the past twenty years as a private detective, who is hired by the murdered agent's unsuspecting landlord to uncover the circumstances of her death. And then things start getting weird.
There are so many things Reynolds does right. The science element of the story is well-thought, and not over-explained, but still, if you're the sort who feels robbed by a film that has a too high ratio of science to action, you may be in for a disappointment. The European detective noir side of the story is spot-on and as enjoyable as any I've read. Above all, Reynolds doesn't pander. The ending is so satisfying, because it doesn't contradict the reasonable path of the story for the sake of making the audience feel good (this is not to say it's tragic). And he writes for fans of the genre without being a snob about it. In a favourite moment, Verity enters a government building and notices a robot stamped with a crossed-out "A", meaning that it is not Asimov-compliant, and becomes very uneasy. Now, I know what this means, so it's as funny as it is creepy. Reynolds clearly states that A means not Asimov-compliant - thus giving enough information to not be a prig about it - but doesn't explain what that means, thus respecting both the readership who knows what he's talking about, and the rest, who can look it up. This moment is indicative of his easy skill and quality of storytelling, and respect for the audience that he maintains throughout the whole book. Really, the hero of this story is consistency.
(Alright, there are a few minor anachronisms, such as when Reynolds, a Brit, forgets that he's writing dialogue for Americans and has one of them refer several times to a flashlight as a torch. But that's the extent of his indiscretions.)
My favourite thing, though, is seeing a heroine whose name is significant without being corny or in your face. Verity Auger - literally, "truth digger". What a brilliant name for an archaeologist, particularly one in her unique situation and universe.
This book gets an A+, and I'm looking forward to picking up more of his work.
French Connection Friday
Did I watch The French Connection on Friday, instead of Thursday or Saturday, just so I could use that alliterative post title? You bet I did!
Since I'd just watched Chinatown, and was still in the mood for that kind of style, I thought I'd watch another influential, very famous film I'd never seen.
My overarching impression of The French Connection is that it captured both some of the best and some of the worst aspects of 70's film making. My favourite thing about 70's cop films is the feel - they have this wonderfully gritty, grubby, "you are here" atmosphere, and in this, The French Connection delivers. Detectives Jimmy "Popeye" Doyle and Buddy "Cloudy" Russo (Gene Hackman and Roy Scheider) have a great on-screen rapport, and, as with most films from that decade, it's the little things that make it, like when Popeye and Cloudy are sitting around a wiretap exhausted and snickering over the mundane argument between a mobster and his wife, until they finally hear the information they need and immediately burst into cheers and a little jig of relief. The other exciting thing about this movie, for me at least, is the invitation into the world of policing at a time when surveillance was, for the most part, entirely in-person. Maybe it's just the excitement of the unknown, but I find this stuff far more interesting than today's high-tech sleuthing.
This invitation into Popeye and Cloudy's world is a common device of 70's films - they tend to say, "here's our world, would you like to be part of it?" rather than promising the audience that they will be a part of it. Unfortunately, director William Friedkin seems to have forgotten the second half of this invitation. It's not so much that The French Connection makes no effort to deliberately engage the audience - other films from the time do that, and do it very well. It's just too introspective. For example, after three months of coming up with nothing but small fish, Popeye and Cloudy are taken off their investigation, until Popeye becomes involved in a shootout with a key suspect, and in the next scene him and Cloudy are on another stakeout, clearly back on the case. Sure, the audience is technically given all the information it needs, but a connecting scene, however brief, would have made a huge impact. Another key weak spot is the lack of strong screen time for Roy Scheider. When him and Hackman are together, there's something for the audience to connect with, and they play off each other extremely well. But the story focuses too much on Popeye's need to close the case, and cuts Cloudy out of some key plot elements, such as the much-ballyhooed car chase.
Ah, the car chase. I can see why it was a big deal at the time, but I have to admit, I wasn't too excited by what amounted to a lone car following a runaway L-train (yes, you read that right). So Popeye has a rough time weaving in and out of traffic, and gets banged up some...I didn't feel any tension at all. Maybe I'm just spoiled from Ronin. But heck, if you want to be fair and talk same time frame, Bullitt's car chase, though less technically adept as it was the first to do a chase at full-speed, is far more gripping.
And it must be said, the ending of this film is extremely awkward. If you're one of those people who thought that perfect, coherent ending of No Country For Old Men was abrupt and confusing, or wrote angry emails to HBO about the series finale of The Sopranos, you're going to hate The French Connection. It just doesn't do it right.
But hey, it's an important film, and not wholly bad, and I'm glad I watched it. Plus, I think we can all find some irony in the fact that Gene Hackman played a character named Popeye. The resemblance, as you will see below, is stunning.
Am I right or am I right?
Since I'd just watched Chinatown, and was still in the mood for that kind of style, I thought I'd watch another influential, very famous film I'd never seen.
My overarching impression of The French Connection is that it captured both some of the best and some of the worst aspects of 70's film making. My favourite thing about 70's cop films is the feel - they have this wonderfully gritty, grubby, "you are here" atmosphere, and in this, The French Connection delivers. Detectives Jimmy "Popeye" Doyle and Buddy "Cloudy" Russo (Gene Hackman and Roy Scheider) have a great on-screen rapport, and, as with most films from that decade, it's the little things that make it, like when Popeye and Cloudy are sitting around a wiretap exhausted and snickering over the mundane argument between a mobster and his wife, until they finally hear the information they need and immediately burst into cheers and a little jig of relief. The other exciting thing about this movie, for me at least, is the invitation into the world of policing at a time when surveillance was, for the most part, entirely in-person. Maybe it's just the excitement of the unknown, but I find this stuff far more interesting than today's high-tech sleuthing.
This invitation into Popeye and Cloudy's world is a common device of 70's films - they tend to say, "here's our world, would you like to be part of it?" rather than promising the audience that they will be a part of it. Unfortunately, director William Friedkin seems to have forgotten the second half of this invitation. It's not so much that The French Connection makes no effort to deliberately engage the audience - other films from the time do that, and do it very well. It's just too introspective. For example, after three months of coming up with nothing but small fish, Popeye and Cloudy are taken off their investigation, until Popeye becomes involved in a shootout with a key suspect, and in the next scene him and Cloudy are on another stakeout, clearly back on the case. Sure, the audience is technically given all the information it needs, but a connecting scene, however brief, would have made a huge impact. Another key weak spot is the lack of strong screen time for Roy Scheider. When him and Hackman are together, there's something for the audience to connect with, and they play off each other extremely well. But the story focuses too much on Popeye's need to close the case, and cuts Cloudy out of some key plot elements, such as the much-ballyhooed car chase.
Ah, the car chase. I can see why it was a big deal at the time, but I have to admit, I wasn't too excited by what amounted to a lone car following a runaway L-train (yes, you read that right). So Popeye has a rough time weaving in and out of traffic, and gets banged up some...I didn't feel any tension at all. Maybe I'm just spoiled from Ronin. But heck, if you want to be fair and talk same time frame, Bullitt's car chase, though less technically adept as it was the first to do a chase at full-speed, is far more gripping.
And it must be said, the ending of this film is extremely awkward. If you're one of those people who thought that perfect, coherent ending of No Country For Old Men was abrupt and confusing, or wrote angry emails to HBO about the series finale of The Sopranos, you're going to hate The French Connection. It just doesn't do it right.
But hey, it's an important film, and not wholly bad, and I'm glad I watched it. Plus, I think we can all find some irony in the fact that Gene Hackman played a character named Popeye. The resemblance, as you will see below, is stunning.
Am I right or am I right?
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Completely Trivial Addendum
Didn't Jack Nicholson, before he got pudgy, bear a striking resemblance to Hugo Weaving? Can I get a "absolutely, you're perfectly sane!"?
To tell the truth, I lied a little: A hot summer movie.
Slowly, I become more educated. Almost a year ago, we bought a copy of Chinatown in the cheap bin, because a) it was in the cheap in, and b) Corey said it was very good. It took me that long to feel like watching it, but this week I got myself a new book with the proceeds from some cooking I've been selling to one of Cor's colleagues, and it happens to be an excellent period noir, which put me right in the mood to give Chinatown a try.
What can I say that you probably haven't heard before? It was, after all, made ten years before I was born, and been rightly famous ever since. It's a work of art, and I can now see the stamp of its influence all over the last film noir I saw, 2005's Brick. Chinatown is filmed in a way that makes big places seem small, hot, desperate, and stuffy - it screams "summer movie", but not in the derogatory, throwaway popcorn-flick sense. It thrives on the strength of being made by actors who didn't feel too important to make a stuntman or stand-in do the dirty work, and on main man Jake Gittes not being a stereotypical noir hard case. He doesn't swear in front of women, and apologizes when he accidentally does. He asks his secretary to leave the room so that he can tell his colleagues a dirty joke. It take a lot for Jake to lose his temper, but when he does, he doesn't blow his stack. He accepts the desperation that pays his P.I. fees with a paradoxically dignified sense of defeat. His manner is smooth and easy, until he's pushed too far, but there's the sense that he is only so smooth and easy because that is the only way to deal with what he sees as a P.I., and what he saw during his stint as a cop in Chinatown. He is a fascinating character. Of course, having support from heavyweights Fay Wray and John Huston didn't hurt Jack Nicholson's breakout role, either.
The downside to Chinatown is that knowing the story makes director Roman Polanski's unserved conviction for drugging and raping a 13 year-old girl all the more disturbing. Very all the more disturbing. It makes me wonder if he has an actual psychological problem or fetish.
But, if I'm going to talk about Polanski's crime, I must make two things clear. The first is that in no way do I condone what he has been proven to have did, nor do I condone the fact that he continues to evade arrest and refuse to serve his sentence. The second, which became a huge media issue when The Pianist was nominated for an Oscar, is that I do not believe his work, or his merit as a filmmaker, should be judged according to his sins - I was not offended when he won the award. It was an excellent film.
There has never been, and never will be, and artist who is not also a sinner. Every film you have ever seen, even the "family-friendly" ones or the ones we think will please God, was made by someone whose legal sins are every bit as foul under heaven as Polanski's illegal ones. We're all on equal footing in this arena. For this reason, I would ask you to not shy away from watching a film directed by Roman Polanski, because he is a wonderful artist and very good at his job - but that doesn't mean I would have dinner with him, because I'm honestly now a bit frightened of him what with the parallels between Chinatown and his crime.
Well. That's Chinatown. Watch it if you haven't - it's an experience hard to describe, and a very important film in terms of the influence its had on the industry.
What can I say that you probably haven't heard before? It was, after all, made ten years before I was born, and been rightly famous ever since. It's a work of art, and I can now see the stamp of its influence all over the last film noir I saw, 2005's Brick. Chinatown is filmed in a way that makes big places seem small, hot, desperate, and stuffy - it screams "summer movie", but not in the derogatory, throwaway popcorn-flick sense. It thrives on the strength of being made by actors who didn't feel too important to make a stuntman or stand-in do the dirty work, and on main man Jake Gittes not being a stereotypical noir hard case. He doesn't swear in front of women, and apologizes when he accidentally does. He asks his secretary to leave the room so that he can tell his colleagues a dirty joke. It take a lot for Jake to lose his temper, but when he does, he doesn't blow his stack. He accepts the desperation that pays his P.I. fees with a paradoxically dignified sense of defeat. His manner is smooth and easy, until he's pushed too far, but there's the sense that he is only so smooth and easy because that is the only way to deal with what he sees as a P.I., and what he saw during his stint as a cop in Chinatown. He is a fascinating character. Of course, having support from heavyweights Fay Wray and John Huston didn't hurt Jack Nicholson's breakout role, either.
The downside to Chinatown is that knowing the story makes director Roman Polanski's unserved conviction for drugging and raping a 13 year-old girl all the more disturbing. Very all the more disturbing. It makes me wonder if he has an actual psychological problem or fetish.
But, if I'm going to talk about Polanski's crime, I must make two things clear. The first is that in no way do I condone what he has been proven to have did, nor do I condone the fact that he continues to evade arrest and refuse to serve his sentence. The second, which became a huge media issue when The Pianist was nominated for an Oscar, is that I do not believe his work, or his merit as a filmmaker, should be judged according to his sins - I was not offended when he won the award. It was an excellent film.
There has never been, and never will be, and artist who is not also a sinner. Every film you have ever seen, even the "family-friendly" ones or the ones we think will please God, was made by someone whose legal sins are every bit as foul under heaven as Polanski's illegal ones. We're all on equal footing in this arena. For this reason, I would ask you to not shy away from watching a film directed by Roman Polanski, because he is a wonderful artist and very good at his job - but that doesn't mean I would have dinner with him, because I'm honestly now a bit frightened of him what with the parallels between Chinatown and his crime.
Well. That's Chinatown. Watch it if you haven't - it's an experience hard to describe, and a very important film in terms of the influence its had on the industry.
Surprise Symphony
No, not the Handel one. I'm talking about Anton Bruckner's Symphony #5, which ended my channel-surfing when I found it on PBS last night. I have no idea which orchestra was performing it, and I generally don't care to watch orchestras on TV because you get all the close-ups of the musicians, and anyone who's been part of an orchestra knows just how funny-looking you are when intensely concentrating and making the assortment of funny faces required to play a woodwind, brass, or reed...but this music caught me and held on tight. I'd never heard of this man before, not being too familiar with the Romantic era, but was immediately taken by the enormous creativity and surprising and innovative, yet perfectly coherent, turns of his symphony. The third-to-last movement, especially...never saw that ending coming, but man, was it brilliant.
A quick Google search reveals that Anton Bruckner, born in Austria, was a quiet, unassuming man who didn't self-promote or seek fame like most of his contemporaries. A devout Roman Catholic, he composed solely for the church until, at the age of 40, he met Wagner and was introduced to the (at the time) new concept of being able to break the established rules of composition while still creating big, powerful music, and at 60 he became famous for the first time on the strength of his 7th symphony.
I am indebted to PBS for this delightful discovery, and hope to score a couple of albums one of these days.
A quick Google search reveals that Anton Bruckner, born in Austria, was a quiet, unassuming man who didn't self-promote or seek fame like most of his contemporaries. A devout Roman Catholic, he composed solely for the church until, at the age of 40, he met Wagner and was introduced to the (at the time) new concept of being able to break the established rules of composition while still creating big, powerful music, and at 60 he became famous for the first time on the strength of his 7th symphony.
I am indebted to PBS for this delightful discovery, and hope to score a couple of albums one of these days.
When Size Matters
Today on Entertainment Weekly, 23 movies you would love to see on the big screen. It's not a bad list. I miss being so close to a repertory theatre when I lived in Montreal, and do hope there's one in Red Deer/Edmonton.
What were you not old enough to see/never got around to seeing in the theatre that you now wish you had? Come on, this'll be fun.
Star Wars (4-6) is a top pick for many; I actually have seen it in the theatre - when it was re-released in '96 (or was it '97?). But that was the re-jiggered version, and I had a very hard time balancing my joy with yelling "WHAT THE CRAP????" at my no-warnings first exposure to "Greedo shot first." My need for big-screen Indy was more than satisfied last week by Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
So, my picks:
Lawrence of Arabia. Do I really need to explain?
The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly - can you imagine that climactic standoff in all the gigantic glory Leone intended??
Children of Men - could'a seen it, didn't have the slush money (dirty $13 cinema). On the in-law's giant rear-projection was pretty good, but the cinematography is so mind-blowing that I really regret not having shelled out.
The Fifth Element. Such good lookin' at. Another one I'm old enough to have watched as nature intended, but didn't. >:(
The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra. The best tribute to B-sci-fi-monster films of the '50's that I've seen, plus it's delightfully funny and one of my favourite comedies. Seeing this large with a good crowd? Awesome.
2001: A Space Odyssey. Like Lawrence, do I really need to explain?
The Seven Samurai. I shouldn't have to explain this one, either.
My Neighbour Totoro. How much extra-magical fun would an ACTUALLY giant giant Totoro be? Too much! Come on, IMAX!
The Ghost in the Shell. Because great animation is always better when the scale and scope can blow you away in a more than metaphorical sense.
Ronin. Another I could have seen when it was released. Holy smokes, the car chases. The car chases. Jean Reno. Jean Reno.
The Sound of Music. Duh.
I think that's it. For now. Your turn!
What were you not old enough to see/never got around to seeing in the theatre that you now wish you had? Come on, this'll be fun.
Star Wars (4-6) is a top pick for many; I actually have seen it in the theatre - when it was re-released in '96 (or was it '97?). But that was the re-jiggered version, and I had a very hard time balancing my joy with yelling "WHAT THE CRAP????" at my no-warnings first exposure to "Greedo shot first." My need for big-screen Indy was more than satisfied last week by Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
So, my picks:
Lawrence of Arabia. Do I really need to explain?
The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly - can you imagine that climactic standoff in all the gigantic glory Leone intended??
Children of Men - could'a seen it, didn't have the slush money (dirty $13 cinema). On the in-law's giant rear-projection was pretty good, but the cinematography is so mind-blowing that I really regret not having shelled out.
The Fifth Element. Such good lookin' at. Another one I'm old enough to have watched as nature intended, but didn't. >:(
The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra. The best tribute to B-sci-fi-monster films of the '50's that I've seen, plus it's delightfully funny and one of my favourite comedies. Seeing this large with a good crowd? Awesome.
2001: A Space Odyssey. Like Lawrence, do I really need to explain?
The Seven Samurai. I shouldn't have to explain this one, either.
My Neighbour Totoro. How much extra-magical fun would an ACTUALLY giant giant Totoro be? Too much! Come on, IMAX!
The Ghost in the Shell. Because great animation is always better when the scale and scope can blow you away in a more than metaphorical sense.
Ronin. Another I could have seen when it was released. Holy smokes, the car chases. The car chases. Jean Reno. Jean Reno.
The Sound of Music. Duh.
I think that's it. For now. Your turn!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Once You Have Found Her, Never Let Her Go
Gaius Baltar's pinstripe suit on Battlestar Galactica - we've seen it before. With lapels, like a traditional Western suit. I've never taken notice of it, personally.
Last night, while watching "The Woman King", I took notice. In a role-reversal scene where he was the demon in Six's mind, I noticed. The coat is freakin' brilliant. Light grey and deep red pinstripes set against a charcoal background, the light grey stripes are significantly thicker than the red - giving the suit, especially in this context of both his and Six's incarceration, a prison uniform feel. And - and this is the big one - in "The Woman King", that suit no longer had lapels, but a Mao collar - a subtle yet screaming implication as to both what Baltar has become to the fleet, and how he sees himself.
This was the only photo I could find, but it does the trick:
Brilliant. The costumer responsible, coordinator Andrea Hiestand, is clearly the sort of crew member a good director should do anything to keep. Never before have I seen such a brilliantly powerful costume of "everyday" clothing.
Last night, while watching "The Woman King", I took notice. In a role-reversal scene where he was the demon in Six's mind, I noticed. The coat is freakin' brilliant. Light grey and deep red pinstripes set against a charcoal background, the light grey stripes are significantly thicker than the red - giving the suit, especially in this context of both his and Six's incarceration, a prison uniform feel. And - and this is the big one - in "The Woman King", that suit no longer had lapels, but a Mao collar - a subtle yet screaming implication as to both what Baltar has become to the fleet, and how he sees himself.
This was the only photo I could find, but it does the trick:
Brilliant. The costumer responsible, coordinator Andrea Hiestand, is clearly the sort of crew member a good director should do anything to keep. Never before have I seen such a brilliantly powerful costume of "everyday" clothing.
Sign me up for the gestural computer
Here's a fun little photo gallery from Entertainment Weekly: "12 movie/TV tech toys we want."
In absolutely no-fun news, they're also confirming reports that Paul Newman is suffering from lung cancer. :(
In absolutely no-fun news, they're also confirming reports that Paul Newman is suffering from lung cancer. :(
Battlestar Galactica Does It Right. Again. Disc 5.
I've noticed, in both the just-wrapped season of Lost, and last year's season of (being the one I'm currently watching as we have no cable), a strong correlation between the fact that, prior to each season, each show got a guaranteed end date from its respective network - and, having the freedom of knowing exactly how much time they had left, each show made up for a weak pre-agreement season by soaring. Battlestar GalacticaBattlestar has surpassed itself, and just about everything else.
I've now cracked disc 5 of season 3, watching the first two episodes last night. The first of them, "The Woman King", guest starring the fantastic Bruce Davison, was the first time I've seen a TV show actually deal with the issue of people refusing medical treatment based on religious beliefs, instead of just saying, "they're crazy, let's force treatment on them, now all is well." The episode also dealt with the intense and long-seated bigotry people from other colonies, including members of the navy, had for the ones refusing treatment. Where Battlestar excels where most others fail is that it is a rare production that succeeds in being neither "liberal" nor "conservative" by giving equal, and equally logical and reasonable, attention to both sides. Kind of like why Stephen King endures where most other horror writers fail, because he recognizes that evil is not the only active supernatural force interested in Man.
This episode also made me play conspiracy theorist, making an awful lot out of one line of dialogue, because I believe all of Adama's dialogue is well-considered. At the end of the episode, when he apologizes to Helo - the lone voice of reason in the madness, as he has been ever since he fell in love with Sharon - he refers to him as "the lone voice in the wilderness." Because of the intense religious aspect of the show, and because I"m pretty sure that phrase originated with Isaiah's prophecy about John the Baptist as "the voice of one calling in the desert [wilderness], 'Make straight the way of the Lord'", and because Helo's half-Cylon child is a messianic figure to those among the skin job Cylons who are (allegedly) more in tune with God, I think there's some very interesting implications to that wee bit of speech.
The second episode of the night, "A Day In The Life", was dominated by Adama's reflection on his failed marriage, but with a Tyrol/Callie subplot, and the fact that most of the main navy characters are now married (Starbuck, Tyrol and Callie, Lee and Dualla, Helo and Sharon), it became a nice general reflection on marriage as well. It contained the bitterly ironic revelation that Adama had literally married his best friend, as our first-ever glimpse of his late wife showed her to be a character cross between Sol and Ellen Tigh, as well as the distinction of actually using that oft overused Beatles song of a title properly. It actually made sense, in the context of the song, for the episode to be called that. Well done! Bonus points as well for Adama and Roslin finally discussing the fact that, were they not at war, they would have a relationship. On an aside, Mary McDonnell is so gorgeous, don't you think?
Logan! Shame on you for going straight to season 4! You have missed out on so much! You still rock!
I've now cracked disc 5 of season 3, watching the first two episodes last night. The first of them, "The Woman King", guest starring the fantastic Bruce Davison, was the first time I've seen a TV show actually deal with the issue of people refusing medical treatment based on religious beliefs, instead of just saying, "they're crazy, let's force treatment on them, now all is well." The episode also dealt with the intense and long-seated bigotry people from other colonies, including members of the navy, had for the ones refusing treatment. Where Battlestar excels where most others fail is that it is a rare production that succeeds in being neither "liberal" nor "conservative" by giving equal, and equally logical and reasonable, attention to both sides. Kind of like why Stephen King endures where most other horror writers fail, because he recognizes that evil is not the only active supernatural force interested in Man.
This episode also made me play conspiracy theorist, making an awful lot out of one line of dialogue, because I believe all of Adama's dialogue is well-considered. At the end of the episode, when he apologizes to Helo - the lone voice of reason in the madness, as he has been ever since he fell in love with Sharon - he refers to him as "the lone voice in the wilderness." Because of the intense religious aspect of the show, and because I"m pretty sure that phrase originated with Isaiah's prophecy about John the Baptist as "the voice of one calling in the desert [wilderness], 'Make straight the way of the Lord'", and because Helo's half-Cylon child is a messianic figure to those among the skin job Cylons who are (allegedly) more in tune with God, I think there's some very interesting implications to that wee bit of speech.
The second episode of the night, "A Day In The Life", was dominated by Adama's reflection on his failed marriage, but with a Tyrol/Callie subplot, and the fact that most of the main navy characters are now married (Starbuck, Tyrol and Callie, Lee and Dualla, Helo and Sharon), it became a nice general reflection on marriage as well. It contained the bitterly ironic revelation that Adama had literally married his best friend, as our first-ever glimpse of his late wife showed her to be a character cross between Sol and Ellen Tigh, as well as the distinction of actually using that oft overused Beatles song of a title properly. It actually made sense, in the context of the song, for the episode to be called that. Well done! Bonus points as well for Adama and Roslin finally discussing the fact that, were they not at war, they would have a relationship. On an aside, Mary McDonnell is so gorgeous, don't you think?
Logan! Shame on you for going straight to season 4! You have missed out on so much! You still rock!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Why Yes, I Did See That. And I Liked It.
Christianity Today's website (http://www.christianitytoday.com) tends to do good movie reviews - generally reasonable, insightful, and they understand that there are many good and useful stories that come with life's R rating. Of course, it needn't be said that they get a lot of flack from a portion of their readership simply for reviewing these films, whether they thought the film was good or not. So, every little while, they post a response to the angry letter. Here's their most recent.
As a Christian, neither ultra-conservative nor ultra-liberal, and as an artist, and as someone interested in humanity, I genuinely don't understand my brothers and sisters who would have us discard films out of turn because of the rating. For one thing, there's the old but true argument that the Bible is extremely R-rated. My husband and I read aloud a chapter each per night together, and we're currently in the middle of 1 Samuel. But that's nothing compared to Judges.
And then, there's the fact that, to quote (or paraphrase?) Frederich Buechner, "the world speaks of holy things in the only language it knows, which is a worldly one."
The single best, most effective extra-biblical story I've ever seen about the destructive nature of un-confessed sin and man's burning need for repentance and redemption was an R-rated film that few have heard of - The Machinist, starring Christian Bale, released shortly before Batman Begins. Due to the stated subject matter, the film is appropriately dark. The machine shop accident that serves as the plot catalyst was so realistically horrific that I couldn't watch (and had nightmares just from the sound of it), and since Bale's character is an extreme insomniac, the only people he can find companionship from in the wee hours of the night are prostitutes. Oh no! Gore! Swearing! Prostitutes! Hide! Hide from the most important lesson man can learn. And, if you want to talk shop, it also happens to be a great example of how to make a movie.
Another R-rated film, No Country For Old Men (reviewed on this blog), is also a very important story. My reasons for that are in the review, and need not be reiterated. Brick, though somewhat art-house, did by its unusual methods tell the ugly truth about the mindset of the suburban teenage drug scene without being sensational or melodramatic.
I once heard an analogy about Christians and the arts that compared us to baleen whales (really). The baleen whale, swimming for food with its mouth wide open, taking in everything - water, plants, other marine life, and the plankton it feeds on - and then the bony filter for which the whale is named expels everything it took in that is not nourishing. This to me is the most scripturally sound, disciplined, and healthy way for Christians to use media and the arts.
That is not to be said that I encourage taking things to the extreme - I don't think there's any need to run out and rent porn. The issue here is information, not exploitation. Information about how people who are not you think and act, information about their philosophies and worldview, information about their perceptions and assumptions, and even information about the way you see things. And, perhaps, there may even be some entertainment along the way. Now, that would be grand.
As a Christian, neither ultra-conservative nor ultra-liberal, and as an artist, and as someone interested in humanity, I genuinely don't understand my brothers and sisters who would have us discard films out of turn because of the rating. For one thing, there's the old but true argument that the Bible is extremely R-rated. My husband and I read aloud a chapter each per night together, and we're currently in the middle of 1 Samuel. But that's nothing compared to Judges.
And then, there's the fact that, to quote (or paraphrase?) Frederich Buechner, "the world speaks of holy things in the only language it knows, which is a worldly one."
The single best, most effective extra-biblical story I've ever seen about the destructive nature of un-confessed sin and man's burning need for repentance and redemption was an R-rated film that few have heard of - The Machinist, starring Christian Bale, released shortly before Batman Begins. Due to the stated subject matter, the film is appropriately dark. The machine shop accident that serves as the plot catalyst was so realistically horrific that I couldn't watch (and had nightmares just from the sound of it), and since Bale's character is an extreme insomniac, the only people he can find companionship from in the wee hours of the night are prostitutes. Oh no! Gore! Swearing! Prostitutes! Hide! Hide from the most important lesson man can learn. And, if you want to talk shop, it also happens to be a great example of how to make a movie.
Another R-rated film, No Country For Old Men (reviewed on this blog), is also a very important story. My reasons for that are in the review, and need not be reiterated. Brick, though somewhat art-house, did by its unusual methods tell the ugly truth about the mindset of the suburban teenage drug scene without being sensational or melodramatic.
I once heard an analogy about Christians and the arts that compared us to baleen whales (really). The baleen whale, swimming for food with its mouth wide open, taking in everything - water, plants, other marine life, and the plankton it feeds on - and then the bony filter for which the whale is named expels everything it took in that is not nourishing. This to me is the most scripturally sound, disciplined, and healthy way for Christians to use media and the arts.
That is not to be said that I encourage taking things to the extreme - I don't think there's any need to run out and rent porn. The issue here is information, not exploitation. Information about how people who are not you think and act, information about their philosophies and worldview, information about their perceptions and assumptions, and even information about the way you see things. And, perhaps, there may even be some entertainment along the way. Now, that would be grand.
Clint Sez: Quit Yer Whinin'!
Recently, Spike Lee made some rather bizarre angry comments about Clint Eastwood's directorial work, like calling him racist for not having any black people in the WWII biopic, Flags of our Fathers - a film about the men in the famous flag-raising photo, none of whom were black and implying that he had no business making a twenty year-old biopic about Charlie "Bird" Parker, because he was black and Eastwood isn't. If you're unfamiliar with Lee's comments, I suggest googling and reading for yourself - it really is strange, but not wholly unexpected from such an arrogant filmmaker with such a massive chip on his shoulder.
Anyways, here's Eastwood's response. Always good to hear from The Clint.
Anyways, here's Eastwood's response. Always good to hear from The Clint.
Geoffrey Chaucer Walks Into A Pub...
Kudos to Corey's work mates for directing us towards British actor and musical stand-up comic Bill Bailey (Spaced, Hot Fuzz, The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy). Most of his work is highly referential - ie. without a healthy knowledge of assorted classic rock acts, and Britiphilia, it's probably not that funny. He's also a proper Brit comic, which means some bits can be arrogantly blasphemous and insulting towards Christians, so bits like "The Scale of Evil" won't be funny to anyone with a health respect for faith and philosophy.
Here are my favourites, to search for on YouTube:
Bill Bailey - Doctor Who. Absolutely brilliant, but you must be enjoy Doctor Who and speak French to properly appreciate and enjoy this one.
Bill Bailey - Pub Jokes. A pub joke told in the style of Chaucer. A right good knock to drunken lechers.
Bill Bailey - 20 Diggeridoo Rock 'n Roll Hits. This one should be fun for all.
Enjoy, and tread carefully!
Here are my favourites, to search for on YouTube:
Bill Bailey - Doctor Who. Absolutely brilliant, but you must be enjoy Doctor Who and speak French to properly appreciate and enjoy this one.
Bill Bailey - Pub Jokes. A pub joke told in the style of Chaucer. A right good knock to drunken lechers.
Bill Bailey - 20 Diggeridoo Rock 'n Roll Hits. This one should be fun for all.
Enjoy, and tread carefully!
Monday, June 9, 2008
Mad? Average? Or False?
Last night, CTV premiered season 1 of AMC's Mad Men, a series set at the beginning of the 60's in the advertising world, exploring how the industry of that time shaped our current popular culture. This show's gotten a lot of positive buzz, so I was quite excited to be able to watch it for myself.
There's no question that Mad Men is well-played, with strong performances across the board (and for Angel fans, Vincent Kartheiser, who unfortunately plays another pitiable creep, but does it so well). And it earns easy bonus points for the original premise - how often do you get to say that, these days? The problem, aside from the rather disingenuous, meaningless titular play on "ad men", is that I am unable to know whether it is very heavy-handed or just capturing the normal ways of the era. In just one episode, we have characters smoking in virtually every scene, dealing with the new conclusive research that smokes aren't healthy, drinking hard liquor multiple times over the course of the business day and occasionally using it to chase pills, a gynecologist warning his client that the Pill may turn her into a whore, and, of course, the expected institutional sexism and anti-Semitism of the era. Now, since all these things are normal, accepted aspects of that time, it could just be that it seems heavy-handed to me because typically, when such behaviours are shown on current TV, they are used in a deliberately heavy-handed fashion to show how backwards people were then. The biggest obstacle to knowledge here has been the fact that I haven't been able to find a review or critique of Mad Men by someone who is actually old enough to have been involved in the business world back then - ie. someone who would actually know how accurate or sensationalized this portrayal is.
The other obstacle is, ironically, the fact that it's been picked up by a network. Mad Men is original to AMC, which doesn't air any commercials, so there's much to be lost by cutting a show that's not made with places for cuts. I think Mad Men may go somewhere very interesting, now that the first episode has (hopefully) gotten the glut of "look at all the crazy behaviours of the early 60's!" out of the way, and for that, it is probably worth renting to watch it as the creators intended. And, as I alluded to earlier, this cast really should be given a chance. It is uniformly excellent.
Were you involved in business in the late 50's or early 60's? Do you know someone who was? I'd love to hear what you/they think about how it is portrayed in Mad Men.
There's no question that Mad Men is well-played, with strong performances across the board (and for Angel fans, Vincent Kartheiser, who unfortunately plays another pitiable creep, but does it so well). And it earns easy bonus points for the original premise - how often do you get to say that, these days? The problem, aside from the rather disingenuous, meaningless titular play on "ad men", is that I am unable to know whether it is very heavy-handed or just capturing the normal ways of the era. In just one episode, we have characters smoking in virtually every scene, dealing with the new conclusive research that smokes aren't healthy, drinking hard liquor multiple times over the course of the business day and occasionally using it to chase pills, a gynecologist warning his client that the Pill may turn her into a whore, and, of course, the expected institutional sexism and anti-Semitism of the era. Now, since all these things are normal, accepted aspects of that time, it could just be that it seems heavy-handed to me because typically, when such behaviours are shown on current TV, they are used in a deliberately heavy-handed fashion to show how backwards people were then. The biggest obstacle to knowledge here has been the fact that I haven't been able to find a review or critique of Mad Men by someone who is actually old enough to have been involved in the business world back then - ie. someone who would actually know how accurate or sensationalized this portrayal is.
The other obstacle is, ironically, the fact that it's been picked up by a network. Mad Men is original to AMC, which doesn't air any commercials, so there's much to be lost by cutting a show that's not made with places for cuts. I think Mad Men may go somewhere very interesting, now that the first episode has (hopefully) gotten the glut of "look at all the crazy behaviours of the early 60's!" out of the way, and for that, it is probably worth renting to watch it as the creators intended. And, as I alluded to earlier, this cast really should be given a chance. It is uniformly excellent.
Were you involved in business in the late 50's or early 60's? Do you know someone who was? I'd love to hear what you/they think about how it is portrayed in Mad Men.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
I'm Having....Deja Vu....
Strangely enough, the day after seeing Indiana Jones, Corey, Scott, and I decided to rent a movie, and I decreed that for once, the movie we watch together should not be gut-wrenchingly somber. The last time Scott came for the weekend, we watched No Country for Old Men and The Lookout, first-rate films I have reviewed in this blog, but not exactly full of rainbows and puppies. The fun choice that was acceptable to all - actually fun, not so bad it's good fun - was National Treasure 2, another film about a treasure hunter with a family who's in on it.
Not to say that National Treasure is anything like Indy in terms of feel, intent or quality, but it was entertaining enough for a Saturday night without feeling like we wasted Scott's money. It was highly American, trying to smooth things over with the French, mocking the British, emphasizing lasting unity between the North and the South, and lying to protect the family name of a thoroughly unsavoury man who tries to rob and kill our heroes - because every American deserves to be a hero, no matter how flawed. It was also highly contemporary, with our hero's love drama revolving around not whether or not he and his girlfriend will reconcile, but whether or not she will ask him to move back it.
The pacing and flow was good, even though the setup takes nearly half the film, because the setup involves two car chases, kidnapping a head of state for information, and robbing both Buckingham Palace and the White House. No, really.
And I was stunned that a Jerry Bruckheimer film had nary a gratuitous female underwear shot that he is so famous for - the closest it came was gratuitous cleavage. So, as a live-action Disney production, it is reasonably family-friendly...that is, if you're willing to explain that robbing and kidnapping heads of state in the name of family pride isn't a good thing. Kind of like Bruckheimer/Disney's last franchised outing, Pirates of the Carribbean, which taught us that you must be loyal above all else, even if that loyalty is to completely immoral/amoral men who will sacrifice you at the drop of a hat to suit their own greed, and that piracy and anarchy are acceptable lifestyle choices.
However, if you're old enough for an R-rating, and feel like watching a solid and entertaining action film starring Nic Cage as a hero and Ed Harris as a villain who does it all to make his family proud, just watch The Rock - also a Jerry Bruckheimer production, and featuring the patented Bruckheimer Lingerie Shot. And Sean Connery. And flamethrowers, biological warfare, and marines. And such classically delivered lines as "Ah'm gonna take pleahsure in guttin' you, boy" and "I swear I didn't see you shoot that gentleman. I swear I didn't see you throw that other gentleman out the window; I just want to know, are you happy with your hair???". And lots and lots of explosions. And no justified thievery. Now that's a classic action film of my generation. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a burning urge to kick Corey and Scott off the XBox and pop in my special collector's widescreen edition of The Rock. No, really.
Not to say that National Treasure is anything like Indy in terms of feel, intent or quality, but it was entertaining enough for a Saturday night without feeling like we wasted Scott's money. It was highly American, trying to smooth things over with the French, mocking the British, emphasizing lasting unity between the North and the South, and lying to protect the family name of a thoroughly unsavoury man who tries to rob and kill our heroes - because every American deserves to be a hero, no matter how flawed. It was also highly contemporary, with our hero's love drama revolving around not whether or not he and his girlfriend will reconcile, but whether or not she will ask him to move back it.
The pacing and flow was good, even though the setup takes nearly half the film, because the setup involves two car chases, kidnapping a head of state for information, and robbing both Buckingham Palace and the White House. No, really.
And I was stunned that a Jerry Bruckheimer film had nary a gratuitous female underwear shot that he is so famous for - the closest it came was gratuitous cleavage. So, as a live-action Disney production, it is reasonably family-friendly...that is, if you're willing to explain that robbing and kidnapping heads of state in the name of family pride isn't a good thing. Kind of like Bruckheimer/Disney's last franchised outing, Pirates of the Carribbean, which taught us that you must be loyal above all else, even if that loyalty is to completely immoral/amoral men who will sacrifice you at the drop of a hat to suit their own greed, and that piracy and anarchy are acceptable lifestyle choices.
However, if you're old enough for an R-rating, and feel like watching a solid and entertaining action film starring Nic Cage as a hero and Ed Harris as a villain who does it all to make his family proud, just watch The Rock - also a Jerry Bruckheimer production, and featuring the patented Bruckheimer Lingerie Shot. And Sean Connery. And flamethrowers, biological warfare, and marines. And such classically delivered lines as "Ah'm gonna take pleahsure in guttin' you, boy" and "I swear I didn't see you shoot that gentleman. I swear I didn't see you throw that other gentleman out the window; I just want to know, are you happy with your hair???". And lots and lots of explosions. And no justified thievery. Now that's a classic action film of my generation. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a burning urge to kick Corey and Scott off the XBox and pop in my special collector's widescreen edition of The Rock. No, really.
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