Seeing Pixar release a new movie is like watching a great figure skater do a triple axel. First, you realize that when all those other figure skaters are up, you were kind of nervous. They might land it, they might not, and you're really on the edge of your seat. But then the gold medalist comes, and you just relax and watch the beauty unfold.
Remember last year, when the money men on Wall Street predicted that movie about the robot--the one with almost no dialogue--couldn't possibly be a hit? And then the one about the rat? And the cars? And on and on.
I wasn't worried in the least.
The two things that you can count on hearing when a Pixar movie come out are: "That was the best (Pixar) movie ever!" and "That wasn't as good as [some other Pixar movie]." In the former case, they sometimes leave out the "Pixar" part. In the latter case, the person is typically referring to a Pixar movie that uniquely resonated in some idiosyncratic way.
But, really, the key thing about Pixar movies is that they're all different. Even Toy Story 2 was thematically different from Toy Story. It's not hard to make meaningful comparisons between them, but it is hard to state outright that of any two elements, one is necessarily better than the other. (I think this is true of all the movies, even A Bug's Life and Cars, which are often unfairly maligned.)
Which brings us to this, the tenth Pixar film, and the tenth triple axel to be landed perfectly.
But differently.
In this case, we have the story of Carl Fredricksen (Ed Asner), a 78-year-old widower who's about to get put into an old folks home. Now, a lot of kid movies feature old people, but this one is about Carl. This is his story.
Showing, once again, that they know how to tell a story without a lot of expository dialog, director Pete Docter (Monsters, Inc.) and co-director/writer Bob Peterson (Finding Nemo co-writer) use the first few minutes of the film to give us a love story between Carl and Ellie. They meet as kids, and through a love of adventure, share their lives for the next 65 years.
No child is going to experience this the way an adult does, particularly older adults. But this opening provides the hook that powers the movie. The older kids will get the connections, but if you're an adult there will probably be parts that make you tear up.
It's no surprise that Carl--a balloon salseman--rigs up a bunch of balloons to make his house float away, but when it happens, it's nonetheless magical. And Carl's expression as he floats through the air is sublime. But of course it only lasts a few seconds.
The fly in Carl's ointment is young Wilderness Scout Russell (Jordan Nagai), and the subsequent adventure includes a giant toucan-ish type bird, talking dogs, and aerial combat. These are the sorts of things you expect from a kid's movie. But as a grownup, you're never far away from these little moments that ground the story in a peculiarly real way.
In a way, Carl's actions are those of a man who's life is almost over. This final grand gesture is his tribute to his wife, and yet Russell keeps interrupting that by embroiling him in things that are going on now. And because we've seen Carl at Russell's age, we feel the wealth of emotions he feels at certain things Russell says and does, even while Russell himself doesn't realize the impact he has on the old man.
So, plenty for the kids--and The Flower liked it a lot--plenty for the adults--as did I. If I were going to pick a demographic this wouldn't appeal to, it'd be the teenagers, yet The Boy also liked it a lot.
Darcy pointed me to this blogcritics review, which is perhaps, an interesting. idiosyncratic counterpoint to mine: The reviewer loved Carl's story but was dismayed by the actual adventure parts (while noting that the kids in the audience loved those parts, while seeming restless during the parts he liked). He even asks whether he is Carl, curmudgeonly hanging on to his old dreams.
At least he sees what's going on: Many of the early Cannes reviews derided the picture's "de-evolution" into an action film. They missed the point. Or maybe just made their choice.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
This one's for Troop
Trooper York tells a tale of a buddy lost to an unfortunate hookup. This reminded me of one of my favorite quirky Loudon Wainwright songs, "IDTTYWLM", embedded below.
It's not exactly relevant, but it is funny.
I don't think that your wife likes me
I don't think that your wife likes me
Why do you suppose that is?
I don't know
It's not exactly relevant, but it is funny.
I don't think that your wife likes me
I don't think that your wife likes me
Why do you suppose that is?
I don't know
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Two Can Play At That Game, Darcysport
Darcy has shamelessly posted a cheesecake shot on her blog, in the guise of, you know, being about tennis.
Ha, ha, we all have a few laughs, Darcy gets a few hits, and no harm done, right?
Except that in doing so, she completely misses the most important tennis story of the season. Possibly, the most important tennis story of our time. Seems that young Simona Halep, as well as being endowed with impressive tennis skills has also been over-endowed in some departments.
OK, seriously, normally I'm against any sort of surgical breast changes. I don't like implants, generally. I mean, if you're a pro, they might be a prudent investment. (I'm told they can be worth $5K a week for strippers.) But aesthetically, they seem to lose their appeal the closer you get.
I also don't like reductions. I could be wrong, but I think the complaints that women have (back pain) could usually be resolved by losing a little weight or exercising the torso a little more. Also it seems like a kind of horrible thing, arbitrarily removing parts of the body. (I feel that way about appendix operations, too, so, you know: Just crazy ol' Blake again.)
But in this case, neither of those would seem to be plausible: She's obviously in top notch shape, and those things actually cause drag when she's running across the court. So, good luck and God bless.
And the ball is in your court now, Ms. Sport.
(h/t Protein Wisdom)
Ha, ha, we all have a few laughs, Darcy gets a few hits, and no harm done, right?
Except that in doing so, she completely misses the most important tennis story of the season. Possibly, the most important tennis story of our time. Seems that young Simona Halep, as well as being endowed with impressive tennis skills has also been over-endowed in some departments.
OK, seriously, normally I'm against any sort of surgical breast changes. I don't like implants, generally. I mean, if you're a pro, they might be a prudent investment. (I'm told they can be worth $5K a week for strippers.) But aesthetically, they seem to lose their appeal the closer you get.I also don't like reductions. I could be wrong, but I think the complaints that women have (back pain) could usually be resolved by losing a little weight or exercising the torso a little more. Also it seems like a kind of horrible thing, arbitrarily removing parts of the body. (I feel that way about appendix operations, too, so, you know: Just crazy ol' Blake again.)
But in this case, neither of those would seem to be plausible: She's obviously in top notch shape, and those things actually cause drag when she's running across the court. So, good luck and God bless.
And the ball is in your court now, Ms. Sport.
(h/t Protein Wisdom)
Friday, May 29, 2009
The Brothers Bloom: Where Is Your Soul's Ass, Anyway?
"I think you have a big hunk of petrified crap up your soul's ass." So says Rachel Weisz to Adrien Brody in Rian Johnson's new caper movie, The Brothers Bloom. Johnson previously directed the interesting low-budget high school-based "film noir" Brick.
I say this is a caper movie, but it's definitely a different kind of caper movie. The typical representative of the genre--The Italian Job or the "Ocean's" series--deals with the pursuit of a MacGuffin, and the plot usually undergoes a number of twists and turns, sometimes in an attempt to fool the viewer (e.g. Ocean's Twelve). There's usually stuff about the people and how their interpersonal relationships as thieves and conmen are affected, but this is generally baggage that slows the shenanigans down.
The Brothers Bloom turns this on convention on its ear by centering all the action around Adrien Brody's development. The capers are essentially incidental to the story. This is way better than it sounds. In fact, the Boy and I think it's the best 2009 movie we've seen so far.
The story is about Stephen and Bloom, who are shuttled from foster home to foster home, town to town, until they finally find their calling running elaborate cons. Stephen (Ruffalo) is the planning genius, putting little themes and symbols into their games, while Bloom (Brody) is the sensitive one--the people person who makes the confidence part of the con game work.
The problem is that Bloom is sensitive, and a romantic, and he can't ever have the one thing the true romantic really craves: genuine human contact. Since he makes contact through false premises (with less than pure motivations), he can't have a true loving connection. This makes him despondent.
Of course, Brody broods well, and not in a monotone way. (That is, his brooding here seems different from, say, his brooding in The Darjeeling Limited.) As his older brother, Ruffalo gives a really sublime performance. Stephen is clearly a smooth operator, intellectual and calculating, yet he's not motivated by money. He loves the game; he also sees himself as providing entertainment, moral lessons, artistic resonance, even.
The perfect con, he says, is the one where everyone gets what they want.
This is his ethical code, really, and his failure is that he can't give Bloom what he wants. If the caper movie is usually cold, this one is the very antithesis. By trying to help him survive, Stephen has turned Bloom into a pathetic, self-loathing character who seems unclear who or what he is. Stephen, for all his apparent glibness and devil-may-care attitude, actually seems to deeply care about Bloom.
Or...does he? This is what Bloom wrestles with. He provides sincerity and depth for the con game, so is Stephen just using him? We quickly see that he's completely the wrong type to be a grifter. To quote Teddy from Memento, that's why he's so good at it.
The brothers work with a mysterious Japanese woman known as Bang Bang (Rinko Kikuchi, last seen largely naked in 2006's Babel). Kikuchi is excellent in this film, as a kind of animé-ish Harpo Marx. I have no idea if she can actually speak English, but the device of not having her speak means both that she can remain mysterious and we're spared a lot of (what would have been) tedious dialogue.
The mark for the movie is a millionaire shut-in played by Rachel Weisz. She's a woman who, through various circumstances, lives in isolation but is also hyper-competent in most regards. All her time has been devoted to acquiring various skills, except conversational skills. Almost like her character from "The Mummy", though very well realized and not cartoonish at all.
I sort of run hot and cold on Ms. Weisz, or maybe just some of her movies rub me the wrong way (I'm looking at you Constant Gardener!), but she's also positively exquisite (in an entirely different way from Kikuchi). Her character is that of an essentially young woman coning out of her shell, and she buoys the movie tremendously. The "crap" line quoted above comes off charmingly sweet and even endearing when she says it.
She embraces adventure (sometimes in a surprisingly sensual way) and brings to the forefront the film's primary thesis. To wit, in the world of human feelings and relationships, how fake is an illusion that everyone believes?
How much, in fact, is life itself a con game?
This is an honest-to-goodness feel good comedy! As mopey as Bloom is, there are enough laughs and light-heartedness to make you feel good about the proceedings. Suspense and concern are not sacrificed. Instead, the characters care about Bloom--and we do, too--and try to get him out of his funk.
Doesn't sound like a caper movie at all, does it?
Just for good measure, the cast is rounded out with Maximilian Schell and Robbie Coltrane. Johnson's cousin Nathan Johnson is back with the score--which I didn't notice. (That's often a good sign.) And the whole thing feels just right at 1:45 (minus credits). It could've been shorter, but only by cheating us out of the excellent ending and giving us a more Ocean-y/Sting-y one.
Funny without being silly or campy, profound without being heavy, well plotted without being fake, adult without being crude--the line quoted at the top is the crudest thing in the movie--and easily the best drawn new characters this year.
So, this is my first likely top 10 movie of the year. It's unlikely that this film won't make it--nothing else from 2009 has my unreserved approval. Of course, today Up comes out, so this may not be in my #1 slot for long.
Random Update #1: There was one kind of weird thing about this movie. Weisz, who does an excellent American accent, has a nasal resonance that reminds me very strongly of Kathryn Erbe. Ruffalo, meanwhile, wears a long black coat, has the slightly unshaven look, and somewhat similar cadence and look of Vincent D'Onofrio. So, every now and again, I got this weird "Law and Order: Criminal Intent" vibe.
Random Update #2: I didn't praise the costumes and sets, and I really should have. This is clearly a movie taking place in modern times, yet the Brothers Bloom wear hats and long coats that evoke the early 20th century. Some of the sets seem very '20s and others seem sort of '40s. Part of the con involves traveling by steamer, for crying out load. This was a very nice touch and gave the movie a timeless feel.
I say this is a caper movie, but it's definitely a different kind of caper movie. The typical representative of the genre--The Italian Job or the "Ocean's" series--deals with the pursuit of a MacGuffin, and the plot usually undergoes a number of twists and turns, sometimes in an attempt to fool the viewer (e.g. Ocean's Twelve). There's usually stuff about the people and how their interpersonal relationships as thieves and conmen are affected, but this is generally baggage that slows the shenanigans down.
The Brothers Bloom turns this on convention on its ear by centering all the action around Adrien Brody's development. The capers are essentially incidental to the story. This is way better than it sounds. In fact, the Boy and I think it's the best 2009 movie we've seen so far.
The story is about Stephen and Bloom, who are shuttled from foster home to foster home, town to town, until they finally find their calling running elaborate cons. Stephen (Ruffalo) is the planning genius, putting little themes and symbols into their games, while Bloom (Brody) is the sensitive one--the people person who makes the confidence part of the con game work.
The problem is that Bloom is sensitive, and a romantic, and he can't ever have the one thing the true romantic really craves: genuine human contact. Since he makes contact through false premises (with less than pure motivations), he can't have a true loving connection. This makes him despondent.
Of course, Brody broods well, and not in a monotone way. (That is, his brooding here seems different from, say, his brooding in The Darjeeling Limited.) As his older brother, Ruffalo gives a really sublime performance. Stephen is clearly a smooth operator, intellectual and calculating, yet he's not motivated by money. He loves the game; he also sees himself as providing entertainment, moral lessons, artistic resonance, even.
The perfect con, he says, is the one where everyone gets what they want.
This is his ethical code, really, and his failure is that he can't give Bloom what he wants. If the caper movie is usually cold, this one is the very antithesis. By trying to help him survive, Stephen has turned Bloom into a pathetic, self-loathing character who seems unclear who or what he is. Stephen, for all his apparent glibness and devil-may-care attitude, actually seems to deeply care about Bloom.
Or...does he? This is what Bloom wrestles with. He provides sincerity and depth for the con game, so is Stephen just using him? We quickly see that he's completely the wrong type to be a grifter. To quote Teddy from Memento, that's why he's so good at it.
The brothers work with a mysterious Japanese woman known as Bang Bang (Rinko Kikuchi, last seen largely naked in 2006's Babel). Kikuchi is excellent in this film, as a kind of animé-ish Harpo Marx. I have no idea if she can actually speak English, but the device of not having her speak means both that she can remain mysterious and we're spared a lot of (what would have been) tedious dialogue.
The mark for the movie is a millionaire shut-in played by Rachel Weisz. She's a woman who, through various circumstances, lives in isolation but is also hyper-competent in most regards. All her time has been devoted to acquiring various skills, except conversational skills. Almost like her character from "The Mummy", though very well realized and not cartoonish at all.
I sort of run hot and cold on Ms. Weisz, or maybe just some of her movies rub me the wrong way (I'm looking at you Constant Gardener!), but she's also positively exquisite (in an entirely different way from Kikuchi). Her character is that of an essentially young woman coning out of her shell, and she buoys the movie tremendously. The "crap" line quoted above comes off charmingly sweet and even endearing when she says it.
She embraces adventure (sometimes in a surprisingly sensual way) and brings to the forefront the film's primary thesis. To wit, in the world of human feelings and relationships, how fake is an illusion that everyone believes?
How much, in fact, is life itself a con game?
This is an honest-to-goodness feel good comedy! As mopey as Bloom is, there are enough laughs and light-heartedness to make you feel good about the proceedings. Suspense and concern are not sacrificed. Instead, the characters care about Bloom--and we do, too--and try to get him out of his funk.
Doesn't sound like a caper movie at all, does it?
Just for good measure, the cast is rounded out with Maximilian Schell and Robbie Coltrane. Johnson's cousin Nathan Johnson is back with the score--which I didn't notice. (That's often a good sign.) And the whole thing feels just right at 1:45 (minus credits). It could've been shorter, but only by cheating us out of the excellent ending and giving us a more Ocean-y/Sting-y one.
Funny without being silly or campy, profound without being heavy, well plotted without being fake, adult without being crude--the line quoted at the top is the crudest thing in the movie--and easily the best drawn new characters this year.
So, this is my first likely top 10 movie of the year. It's unlikely that this film won't make it--nothing else from 2009 has my unreserved approval. Of course, today Up comes out, so this may not be in my #1 slot for long.
Random Update #1: There was one kind of weird thing about this movie. Weisz, who does an excellent American accent, has a nasal resonance that reminds me very strongly of Kathryn Erbe. Ruffalo, meanwhile, wears a long black coat, has the slightly unshaven look, and somewhat similar cadence and look of Vincent D'Onofrio. So, every now and again, I got this weird "Law and Order: Criminal Intent" vibe.
Random Update #2: I didn't praise the costumes and sets, and I really should have. This is clearly a movie taking place in modern times, yet the Brothers Bloom wear hats and long coats that evoke the early 20th century. Some of the sets seem very '20s and others seem sort of '40s. Part of the con involves traveling by steamer, for crying out load. This was a very nice touch and gave the movie a timeless feel.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
The Goode Family
Mike Judge has come a long way since his seminal Beavis and Butthead cartoon "Frog Baseball". (Heheheheh--I said "seminal".) At least financially. Those early shorts, along with the lesser known "Inbred Jed" cartoons, revealed a lot of his sensibility and grasp of human character.
"King of the Hill"--possibly the only primetime show with a genuinely conservative lead (excluding cartoonish parodies done by far-left liberals like Seth MacFarlane's "American Dad")--is something of a phenomenon, having run for thirteen seasons (and possibly being picked up for more by ABC) distinguishes itself by being consistently funny and also essentially kind. Kind sitcoms are only slightly rarer than funny ones, but kindness seems to be one of Judge's hallmarks. Even the biting satire of Idiocracy and Office Space had an essential benign optimism.
So, it's not surprising that "The Goode Family", Judge's new show is both funny and kind. In fact, it's "King of the Hill", only instead of the well-meaning, stalwart Hank Hill, we have the well-meaning, and less stalwart Gerald Goode. (Mr. Goode is surely in touch with his feminine side, a proposition that would appall Mr. Hill.) Judge uses a voice closer to his Office Space character's (the passive aggressive Chotchki's manager) but the cadences are still very similar to Hank's.
It's also a bit more exaggerated, I think, than KotH. At one point, Helen Goode (the wife, played by Nancy Carrell) is at the Whole Foods-clone and looking at a big board which lists things that are Good on one side, and things that are Bad on the other. As she watches, "farm raised catfish" toggles between good and bad several times.
There is a religious aspect to all of this, as well as a social-religious aspect. Where people used to go to church for guidance and also to one-up each other, the Goodes go shopping. And you sort of have to admire Helen for handling the paper-or-plastic dilemma in a way that makes every other woman shopping--who had all been trying to make her feel bad a second ago--feel ecologically inadequate.
There are a lot of good dynamics here already: The Goodes' neighbor is a black man who doesn't eat vegetables. Gerald's boss at the university is more interested in the bottom line while paying lip service to diversity. Helen's father brings rib take out over to the (naturally, vegan) Goodes house.
And then there are the two kids: Ubuntu (Judge regular, David Herman) , the child that the Goodes adopted from Africa, without realizing he was a blond-haired South African; and Bliss (Linda Cardellini) who rebels in the first episode by eschewing frank talk about sex with her mom for an abstinence group.
Christians make an appearance in the form of purity pushers. David Herman also plays Trayvor (Trevor?) who Bliss likes and who is an aspiring Michael Moore-type "documentary" maker who is planning to ridicule them. The show doesn't dance around the fact that these open-minded, tolerant people--represented most squarely by Helen--really aren't particularly interested in--or comfortable with--people who disagree with them.
So, a lot like "King of the Hill".
I was laughing out loud through a lot of the episode. Here are some lines I liked:
Gerald, trying to distract his wife from Bliss' interest in abstinence: "The View is on. The pretty one is saying crazy stuff again."
Helen, who doesn't approve of Gerald's support of Bliss, and also doesn't want their newly 16-year-old son to drive: "You're teaching our son to drive and our daughter to not have sex: Where have I gone wrong?"
Gerald, in response to Helen's objections that a man is wearing a flag pin: "Since the election we can all wear flag pins!"
If you missed it on ABC Wednesday, you can view it at ABC.com and IMDB.com.
"King of the Hill"--possibly the only primetime show with a genuinely conservative lead (excluding cartoonish parodies done by far-left liberals like Seth MacFarlane's "American Dad")--is something of a phenomenon, having run for thirteen seasons (and possibly being picked up for more by ABC) distinguishes itself by being consistently funny and also essentially kind. Kind sitcoms are only slightly rarer than funny ones, but kindness seems to be one of Judge's hallmarks. Even the biting satire of Idiocracy and Office Space had an essential benign optimism.
So, it's not surprising that "The Goode Family", Judge's new show is both funny and kind. In fact, it's "King of the Hill", only instead of the well-meaning, stalwart Hank Hill, we have the well-meaning, and less stalwart Gerald Goode. (Mr. Goode is surely in touch with his feminine side, a proposition that would appall Mr. Hill.) Judge uses a voice closer to his Office Space character's (the passive aggressive Chotchki's manager) but the cadences are still very similar to Hank's.
It's also a bit more exaggerated, I think, than KotH. At one point, Helen Goode (the wife, played by Nancy Carrell) is at the Whole Foods-clone and looking at a big board which lists things that are Good on one side, and things that are Bad on the other. As she watches, "farm raised catfish" toggles between good and bad several times.
There is a religious aspect to all of this, as well as a social-religious aspect. Where people used to go to church for guidance and also to one-up each other, the Goodes go shopping. And you sort of have to admire Helen for handling the paper-or-plastic dilemma in a way that makes every other woman shopping--who had all been trying to make her feel bad a second ago--feel ecologically inadequate.
There are a lot of good dynamics here already: The Goodes' neighbor is a black man who doesn't eat vegetables. Gerald's boss at the university is more interested in the bottom line while paying lip service to diversity. Helen's father brings rib take out over to the (naturally, vegan) Goodes house.
And then there are the two kids: Ubuntu (Judge regular, David Herman) , the child that the Goodes adopted from Africa, without realizing he was a blond-haired South African; and Bliss (Linda Cardellini) who rebels in the first episode by eschewing frank talk about sex with her mom for an abstinence group.
Christians make an appearance in the form of purity pushers. David Herman also plays Trayvor (Trevor?) who Bliss likes and who is an aspiring Michael Moore-type "documentary" maker who is planning to ridicule them. The show doesn't dance around the fact that these open-minded, tolerant people--represented most squarely by Helen--really aren't particularly interested in--or comfortable with--people who disagree with them.
So, a lot like "King of the Hill".
I was laughing out loud through a lot of the episode. Here are some lines I liked:
Gerald, trying to distract his wife from Bliss' interest in abstinence: "The View is on. The pretty one is saying crazy stuff again."
Helen, who doesn't approve of Gerald's support of Bliss, and also doesn't want their newly 16-year-old son to drive: "You're teaching our son to drive and our daughter to not have sex: Where have I gone wrong?"
Gerald, in response to Helen's objections that a man is wearing a flag pin: "Since the election we can all wear flag pins!"
If you missed it on ABC Wednesday, you can view it at ABC.com and IMDB.com.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Oh, Just Say You Don't Like It
...when people tinkle in the pool.
You don't have to cobble together some sort of "science".
I mean, seriously, let's say somebody empties a quart of urine into a good sized pool. Ours holds about 17,000 gallons. A quart is a sizable amount, probably more than the trickles that are likely (mostly from kids, and mostly due to the temperature change, I'd guess).
Even so, that's 150 parts per million, urine-to-water, if my math is right. Since urine is 95% water, we're down to 7.5 parts per million for the health threat. Given that the astronauts just celebrated by drinking pee, I'm guessing it's not too bad.
Meanwhile, we dump chlorine into pools, which is well and truly toxic. I like how the article conflates urine and sweat, saying that the problem is that they combine with chlorine. But you can't help but sweat in the pool, even if you don't know it.
CDC notwithstanding, I think we're seeing the sort of objections that arise when people realize they eat food with bug parts in it. Come on, people, a certain amount of unconscious ingestion of biological matter is part and parcel of life.
Learn to deal.
You don't have to cobble together some sort of "science".
I mean, seriously, let's say somebody empties a quart of urine into a good sized pool. Ours holds about 17,000 gallons. A quart is a sizable amount, probably more than the trickles that are likely (mostly from kids, and mostly due to the temperature change, I'd guess).
Even so, that's 150 parts per million, urine-to-water, if my math is right. Since urine is 95% water, we're down to 7.5 parts per million for the health threat. Given that the astronauts just celebrated by drinking pee, I'm guessing it's not too bad.
Meanwhile, we dump chlorine into pools, which is well and truly toxic. I like how the article conflates urine and sweat, saying that the problem is that they combine with chlorine. But you can't help but sweat in the pool, even if you don't know it.
CDC notwithstanding, I think we're seeing the sort of objections that arise when people realize they eat food with bug parts in it. Come on, people, a certain amount of unconscious ingestion of biological matter is part and parcel of life.
Learn to deal.
Second Chances
I ended up seeing Wall-E a second time, and wanted to post on that, but got caught up thinking about multiple viewings.
(This is another from my discarded file. I never posted it because it just rambles. But what the hell)
When I was a child, say 8 years old or so, seeing a movie for a second time was sheer torture. The sense of boredom was overwhelming. (I did it on a few occasions anyway, which should tell you something about how bored I was.) When I hit my teens, I could see a really excellent movie twice and not be completely restless, I noticed. Even then, it was hard. (I saw Witness and Road Warrior twice.) I saw Star Wars twice and disliked it even more the second time. (Really, it probably wasn't until 10-15 years later that I began to appreciate that series for what it was.)
Seeing them on TV was different. I remember, for example, watching Alien on TV while eating spaghetti and realizing I wasn't particularly squeamish. I think because I could look at particular scenes without investing all my attention in the movie, I found it less offensive (let's use that word) to see a movie more than once. The idea of buying a movie to watch over and over again completely confounded me. VCRs were for time-shifting. (And for recording music videos, which were the only exposure to pop music apart from other people's loud radios and record players that I've had.)
I never quoted from movies back then, either, at least partly because it was a momentary experience, disposable. Someone said to me "These aren't the droids you're looking for" and I stared at them blankly.
Somewhere in there, that changed, and I'm not entirely sure why. If anything, with the greater volume of available material, there should be no excuse for ever repeating a viewing.
It might have to do with the human brain. At the Institutes, they talk about the need for fresh material all the time. A child's brain constantly wants new information. That's why the progression for children's toys goes something like "play with it correctly, play with it incorrectly, break it to see how it works, move on to the next toy". You need a high volume of new info to keep a child's brain engaged.
Paradoxically, however, it's children who like to watch the same programs over and over again. The Boy was extremely fond of Ralph Bakshi's Wizards (and, no, I'm not sure that was appropriate) and Dr. Seuss's The Butter Battle Book (and I'm not sure about that one, either, really). Indeed, it was having children that introduced me to repeat viewings for pleasure.
As a side note, having spent a lot of time in "after day" care, there was a point where you were literally forced to stop playing outside and watch TV. Even if you didn't watch it directly, there was no escape. (This developed two things: My current encyclopedic knowledge of certain abhorrent '60s sitcoms, as well as the bowdlerized versions of every Warner Bros. cartoon from the '40s and '50s; my abiding hatred of TV-as-noise through the years.)
One thing I can identify, is that I view things radically differently now. You can call it "growing up" but I'm not sure if that's a correct differentiation. As a child, I was concerned with plot and story mechanics. I read the thought balloons in comic strips without looking at the pictures at all. I burned through picture books. Actually, with comic books, I note that I filled in the visuals with far greater detail than was actually there. (On going back and looking at old comic books of that era, I'm always surprised how little detail work actually made it to the page.)
The appeal of the visual arts were almost completely unknown to me. (I was hugely moved by Michelangelo's Pieta, but that was a rare occurrence, and I didn't--and maybe don't still--understand why that particular piece had such an affect on me.)
I was, in modern parlance, very left-brained. When I drew a picture, it had a plot, .e.g.
At some point, with considerable effort, I started paying more attention to the visual. I also started paying attention to the hows and whys. A lot of bad movies--especially big budget bad movies of today--are packed with high quality craftsmanship, wrapped around a turd of a story. I can entertain myself if the movie doesn't pick up the gauntlet.
One factor in there may have been the formal training in music. All musicians listen to music differently from non-musicians (which is why they like different things from normal people), but having historical perspective makes it apparent how taste is shaped and not the fixed "I know what I like" kind of thing that most people experience.
If you immerse yourself in early Gregorian chant, where only one note is ever sung at a time, and the figures are simple--and it only takes a few weeks of listening to a lot of this--when the second note gets added, it's like the skies opening up and showing heaven. You can really get a sense of how wondrous and controversial that second note was at the time.
You can repeat this process for many points in music history. And if you love music--I mean, if you really love music, not just the current iterations of pop--you owe it to yourself to embark on some part of that journey.
This is actually harder to apply to movies, but not impossible. It's very hard to watch Frankenstein (1931) and realize that people had nightmares from that. Someone famously called up the exhibitor in the middle of the night and said "Since you made it impossible for me to sleep, I'm going to make it impossible for you!" or something along those lines.
Hell, it's hard to do that with The Thing (1982), and I remember being both floored by the movie and the huge outrage over it. People called it "pornography", the advertising was yanked for it, and John Carpenter's never been the same. 25 years later and it's almost quaint. (But then, horror particularly ages quickly.)
But early on I realized, with movies, the key wasn't who was in it: You're a chump if you go to a movie with a particular actor--no matter how great--expecting it to be good because the actor is in it. A star (like Will Smith) can carry a weak movie and a great actor can provide good moments in an otherwise bad film, but every great actor ultimately appears in a number of dogs.
It's not impossible to rediscover . I couldn't relate to Westerns as a kid at all. It was all sci-fi and horror, if you could get it. I did finally get to a Western film series, where they showed 30 years of westerns, about four movies per decade. And I began to pick up the tropes and symbols pretty quickly--though it was funny to me how many of the movies simply required you to assume the guy in the white hat was the good guy, even if his actions were objectively identical to the guy in the black hat. (Postmodern deconstructionism at work?)
I guess, wrapping this up, the key differences between then and now, barring whatever neurological factors may be at play, are that: 1) I don't expect to be the passive effect of movies that I watch now; 2) I'm not so heavily invested in the narrative structure for my enjoyment of movies, and have a much greater appreciation for and interest in the technical details that make individual moments in movies work.
Similar experiences anyone?
(This is another from my discarded file. I never posted it because it just rambles. But what the hell)
When I was a child, say 8 years old or so, seeing a movie for a second time was sheer torture. The sense of boredom was overwhelming. (I did it on a few occasions anyway, which should tell you something about how bored I was.) When I hit my teens, I could see a really excellent movie twice and not be completely restless, I noticed. Even then, it was hard. (I saw Witness and Road Warrior twice.) I saw Star Wars twice and disliked it even more the second time. (Really, it probably wasn't until 10-15 years later that I began to appreciate that series for what it was.)
Seeing them on TV was different. I remember, for example, watching Alien on TV while eating spaghetti and realizing I wasn't particularly squeamish. I think because I could look at particular scenes without investing all my attention in the movie, I found it less offensive (let's use that word) to see a movie more than once. The idea of buying a movie to watch over and over again completely confounded me. VCRs were for time-shifting. (And for recording music videos, which were the only exposure to pop music apart from other people's loud radios and record players that I've had.)
I never quoted from movies back then, either, at least partly because it was a momentary experience, disposable. Someone said to me "These aren't the droids you're looking for" and I stared at them blankly.
Somewhere in there, that changed, and I'm not entirely sure why. If anything, with the greater volume of available material, there should be no excuse for ever repeating a viewing.
It might have to do with the human brain. At the Institutes, they talk about the need for fresh material all the time. A child's brain constantly wants new information. That's why the progression for children's toys goes something like "play with it correctly, play with it incorrectly, break it to see how it works, move on to the next toy". You need a high volume of new info to keep a child's brain engaged.
Paradoxically, however, it's children who like to watch the same programs over and over again. The Boy was extremely fond of Ralph Bakshi's Wizards (and, no, I'm not sure that was appropriate) and Dr. Seuss's The Butter Battle Book (and I'm not sure about that one, either, really). Indeed, it was having children that introduced me to repeat viewings for pleasure.
As a side note, having spent a lot of time in "after day" care, there was a point where you were literally forced to stop playing outside and watch TV. Even if you didn't watch it directly, there was no escape. (This developed two things: My current encyclopedic knowledge of certain abhorrent '60s sitcoms, as well as the bowdlerized versions of every Warner Bros. cartoon from the '40s and '50s; my abiding hatred of TV-as-noise through the years.)
One thing I can identify, is that I view things radically differently now. You can call it "growing up" but I'm not sure if that's a correct differentiation. As a child, I was concerned with plot and story mechanics. I read the thought balloons in comic strips without looking at the pictures at all. I burned through picture books. Actually, with comic books, I note that I filled in the visuals with far greater detail than was actually there. (On going back and looking at old comic books of that era, I'm always surprised how little detail work actually made it to the page.)
The appeal of the visual arts were almost completely unknown to me. (I was hugely moved by Michelangelo's Pieta, but that was a rare occurrence, and I didn't--and maybe don't still--understand why that particular piece had such an affect on me.)
I was, in modern parlance, very left-brained. When I drew a picture, it had a plot, .e.g.
At some point, with considerable effort, I started paying more attention to the visual. I also started paying attention to the hows and whys. A lot of bad movies--especially big budget bad movies of today--are packed with high quality craftsmanship, wrapped around a turd of a story. I can entertain myself if the movie doesn't pick up the gauntlet.
One factor in there may have been the formal training in music. All musicians listen to music differently from non-musicians (which is why they like different things from normal people), but having historical perspective makes it apparent how taste is shaped and not the fixed "I know what I like" kind of thing that most people experience.
If you immerse yourself in early Gregorian chant, where only one note is ever sung at a time, and the figures are simple--and it only takes a few weeks of listening to a lot of this--when the second note gets added, it's like the skies opening up and showing heaven. You can really get a sense of how wondrous and controversial that second note was at the time.
You can repeat this process for many points in music history. And if you love music--I mean, if you really love music, not just the current iterations of pop--you owe it to yourself to embark on some part of that journey.
This is actually harder to apply to movies, but not impossible. It's very hard to watch Frankenstein (1931) and realize that people had nightmares from that. Someone famously called up the exhibitor in the middle of the night and said "Since you made it impossible for me to sleep, I'm going to make it impossible for you!" or something along those lines.
Hell, it's hard to do that with The Thing (1982), and I remember being both floored by the movie and the huge outrage over it. People called it "pornography", the advertising was yanked for it, and John Carpenter's never been the same. 25 years later and it's almost quaint. (But then, horror particularly ages quickly.)
But early on I realized, with movies, the key wasn't who was in it: You're a chump if you go to a movie with a particular actor--no matter how great--expecting it to be good because the actor is in it. A star (like Will Smith) can carry a weak movie and a great actor can provide good moments in an otherwise bad film, but every great actor ultimately appears in a number of dogs.
It's not impossible to rediscover . I couldn't relate to Westerns as a kid at all. It was all sci-fi and horror, if you could get it. I did finally get to a Western film series, where they showed 30 years of westerns, about four movies per decade. And I began to pick up the tropes and symbols pretty quickly--though it was funny to me how many of the movies simply required you to assume the guy in the white hat was the good guy, even if his actions were objectively identical to the guy in the black hat. (Postmodern deconstructionism at work?)
I guess, wrapping this up, the key differences between then and now, barring whatever neurological factors may be at play, are that: 1) I don't expect to be the passive effect of movies that I watch now; 2) I'm not so heavily invested in the narrative structure for my enjoyment of movies, and have a much greater appreciation for and interest in the technical details that make individual moments in movies work.
Similar experiences anyone?
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Exciting News in the Blog World!
Lots of things happening for our little Althouse-offshoot community. In alphabetical order!
And, as always check out Trooper York, the, uh, glue that holds us all together.
Chicken Little has a blog! A little light on the posts, just yet.
Darcy has a blog! Also a little light on the posts, yet. Darcy gets more space here, though, 'cause she's a hot blond sports chick. I'd hit on her but: a) Don't know nothin' 'bout sports; b) she could easily beat me up.
Hector has changed his blog's name! If Rain in the Doorway (the title of a lesser known Thorne Smith novel) wasn't obscure enough for you, he's now called "Kiarian Lunch" which refers to certain characters in the novel. And if you don't know Thorne Smith, Google. His books are available online for free reading (outside the US, sigh), and well worth the time.
Micheal H has a blog! Right now, it's empty, but not too long ago it had a very nice post of a speecch Mr. H made.
Last, and not least, not only does Pogo have a blog, it's marvelously idiosyncratic and he's posting up a whirlwind. Fun to read! Lots of pictures!! Weirdly named "The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner".
And, as always check out Trooper York, the, uh, glue that holds us all together.
PS: And don't a dope like me forgetting to link Ruth Anne Adams's blog; the woman with the puns of steel.
PPS: And Kelly's back at Loaded Questions, too. Kelly never, ever, ever comes to visit me here, but I'm a good friend so I pimp her site when she bothers to put up stuff. Check it out: She has her own dot-com, too. Hi-falutin'.
A Girl and her Dad
I started a tradition years ago of spending one day a year with The Boy where he got to call the shots. Whatever he wanted to do, we did. This usually involved going to the movies, Chuck E. Cheese's, an arcade, a toy store, a gaming specialty shop, whatever. (These days, it involves going to the shooting range and knife store.)
I naturally carried it forward with The Flower (and will with The Barbarienne, when she's old enough) and yesterday was her day. It's a little different with a girl, I learned. First of all, for part of her day, she wants The Boy to come with her. She likes to go to the movies, but she wants to have grandpa along.
And when I'd take The Boy to a store, he'd pick out five or six action figures that were really cool, and then agonize over which he wanted. I'd never placed a limit on him, mind you. It was just his mindset to check prices and weigh his perceived value against them. I'd have to convince him it was okay to get two or three toys. (And sometimes, I couldn't, if he felt something was priced too high.)
The Flower, meanwhile, would blithely hand me everything she liked from every store that caught her eye. She had found out, possibly through Disney-inspired necromancy, that there was a store called Build-A-Bear. Our first trip there cost us $20 for a bear, and $180 in accessories.
This year was a little different. The Flower loves to be treated, but she also worries that she's being spoiled. I've tried to explain to her that you can't really spoil someone by giving them things. (That's a common misconception.) And in any event, you couldn't really spoil The Flower without some serious effort: Generosity is in a prominent part of her nature.
We started out our day with breakfast at Denny's. The Flower loves Denny's. And I guess I shouldn't complain, since it's cheap. But it usually gives me a vaguely uneasy feeling: Not quite heartburn, but the sense that I've consumed something I really shouldn't have. I've always figured they use some sort of Pam-like spray on butter substitute that disagreed with me. I'm off meat at the moment, though, and breakfast did not leave me with that feeling.
Then it was miniature golf. We tried doing that last year, but the place shut down because of a little sprinkle. But this year we got in a game, with our biggest problem being smacking the balls into the numerous water traps. The Flower was very good at fishing them out. (The Boy's first--and only--game was hilarious: He had decided that it wasn't so much the number of strokes that was important, but the speed at which you progressed through the holes. We literally had to run to keep up with him.)
Then off to the movies with The Boy and grandpa.
The Boy stayed with us for Chuck E. Cheese. The Rat is an interesting phenomenon. (Did you know it was the brain child of Nolan Bushnell, the man behind Pong and Atari?) Over the years, The Rat's Place has gone from being filled with fun, but hard to clean and non-profit generating activities (no more ball pits, and few habitrails) to being largely pseudo-gambling games that encourage you to pump in tokens as fast as possible. Most of the games are designed to eliminate any skill, of course.
Meh. Skee-ball's still one token and nine balls.
What's sort of ironic is that while the pizza is definitely aimed to challenge the "no such thing as bad pizza crowd", the salad bar is very fresh. I find that sort of amusing since the salad bar craze of the '80s has vanished so thoroughly that you can hardly find a good one, even in restaurants that used to be salad bar oriented.
Then it was off to the mall. Build-A-Bear is quite affordable, as long as you just get the bears. They advertise quite prominently that you can get a $10 bear. The accessories are, individually, inexpensive seeming: $3.50 for underwear (yeah, bear underwear) or a pair of glasses, $5 for a pair of pants. A complete outfit makes your $10 bear cost $40 or more, assuming you stick with the cheap stuff.
The Flower has come to realize that most of the accessories get quickly lost anyway, so she was more than happy when I told her she could get two, as long as she didn't dress them. She got a bear (her fourth) and a unicorn, and we spent the same or less than anyone else in the store.
We went by the Disney store to get a few more things, including some gifts for her mother and baby sister. (The Barb shares a room with The Flower and is quite at a loss to understand that big sis has more stuff just because she's been around longer, and the stuff is cooler because she's older.)
Then a late dinner at Denny's. The veggie burger was actually pretty good, surprisingly enough. The Flower ordered hot dogs, and then a big slice of cake. She didn't eat much of either.
Finally home to share all our conquests with everyone.
All-in-all, a successful day. I wish I had more of them.
I naturally carried it forward with The Flower (and will with The Barbarienne, when she's old enough) and yesterday was her day. It's a little different with a girl, I learned. First of all, for part of her day, she wants The Boy to come with her. She likes to go to the movies, but she wants to have grandpa along.
And when I'd take The Boy to a store, he'd pick out five or six action figures that were really cool, and then agonize over which he wanted. I'd never placed a limit on him, mind you. It was just his mindset to check prices and weigh his perceived value against them. I'd have to convince him it was okay to get two or three toys. (And sometimes, I couldn't, if he felt something was priced too high.)
The Flower, meanwhile, would blithely hand me everything she liked from every store that caught her eye. She had found out, possibly through Disney-inspired necromancy, that there was a store called Build-A-Bear. Our first trip there cost us $20 for a bear, and $180 in accessories.
This year was a little different. The Flower loves to be treated, but she also worries that she's being spoiled. I've tried to explain to her that you can't really spoil someone by giving them things. (That's a common misconception.) And in any event, you couldn't really spoil The Flower without some serious effort: Generosity is in a prominent part of her nature.
We started out our day with breakfast at Denny's. The Flower loves Denny's. And I guess I shouldn't complain, since it's cheap. But it usually gives me a vaguely uneasy feeling: Not quite heartburn, but the sense that I've consumed something I really shouldn't have. I've always figured they use some sort of Pam-like spray on butter substitute that disagreed with me. I'm off meat at the moment, though, and breakfast did not leave me with that feeling.
Then it was miniature golf. We tried doing that last year, but the place shut down because of a little sprinkle. But this year we got in a game, with our biggest problem being smacking the balls into the numerous water traps. The Flower was very good at fishing them out. (The Boy's first--and only--game was hilarious: He had decided that it wasn't so much the number of strokes that was important, but the speed at which you progressed through the holes. We literally had to run to keep up with him.)
Then off to the movies with The Boy and grandpa.
The Boy stayed with us for Chuck E. Cheese. The Rat is an interesting phenomenon. (Did you know it was the brain child of Nolan Bushnell, the man behind Pong and Atari?) Over the years, The Rat's Place has gone from being filled with fun, but hard to clean and non-profit generating activities (no more ball pits, and few habitrails) to being largely pseudo-gambling games that encourage you to pump in tokens as fast as possible. Most of the games are designed to eliminate any skill, of course.
Meh. Skee-ball's still one token and nine balls.
What's sort of ironic is that while the pizza is definitely aimed to challenge the "no such thing as bad pizza crowd", the salad bar is very fresh. I find that sort of amusing since the salad bar craze of the '80s has vanished so thoroughly that you can hardly find a good one, even in restaurants that used to be salad bar oriented.
Then it was off to the mall. Build-A-Bear is quite affordable, as long as you just get the bears. They advertise quite prominently that you can get a $10 bear. The accessories are, individually, inexpensive seeming: $3.50 for underwear (yeah, bear underwear) or a pair of glasses, $5 for a pair of pants. A complete outfit makes your $10 bear cost $40 or more, assuming you stick with the cheap stuff.
The Flower has come to realize that most of the accessories get quickly lost anyway, so she was more than happy when I told her she could get two, as long as she didn't dress them. She got a bear (her fourth) and a unicorn, and we spent the same or less than anyone else in the store.
We went by the Disney store to get a few more things, including some gifts for her mother and baby sister. (The Barb shares a room with The Flower and is quite at a loss to understand that big sis has more stuff just because she's been around longer, and the stuff is cooler because she's older.)
Then a late dinner at Denny's. The veggie burger was actually pretty good, surprisingly enough. The Flower ordered hot dogs, and then a big slice of cake. She didn't eat much of either.
Finally home to share all our conquests with everyone.
All-in-all, a successful day. I wish I had more of them.
Inevitability
We have a conceit in this country that we debate things from "both sides". But, of course, any question has multiple facets and nuances, and very often when we're looking at "both sides", we're looking at the same thing, trivially distinguished.
Look at the political parties: They argue only about what the government should exert its force over first, not whether it should exert its force at all. The Dems bitched about the effect the War on Drugs had on civil liberties, but once in power, they didn't repeal those laws. Same with the War on Terror. Both parties bitch about spending when they're not in power, but they never actually reduce spending when they are.
From Britain comes the story of Caroline Cartwright, "remanded in custody"--I think that means "sent to jail while the state figures out what evil to do with you"--for having noisy sex.
Of course, making noise can get you into trouble, that's not new. What's new, is what this Reason article points out: The previous injunction against the woman having noisy sex applied to the entire country. She couldn't go anywhere in England, no matter how remote or soundproofed, and legally have noisy sex.
This is a "liberal" government at work.
Greg Gutfeld repeats the old saw that conservatives want to control your private life and liberals want to control your economic life, but inevitably, all "progress" leads to a goverment that controls everything.
Look at the political parties: They argue only about what the government should exert its force over first, not whether it should exert its force at all. The Dems bitched about the effect the War on Drugs had on civil liberties, but once in power, they didn't repeal those laws. Same with the War on Terror. Both parties bitch about spending when they're not in power, but they never actually reduce spending when they are.
From Britain comes the story of Caroline Cartwright, "remanded in custody"--I think that means "sent to jail while the state figures out what evil to do with you"--for having noisy sex.
Of course, making noise can get you into trouble, that's not new. What's new, is what this Reason article points out: The previous injunction against the woman having noisy sex applied to the entire country. She couldn't go anywhere in England, no matter how remote or soundproofed, and legally have noisy sex.
This is a "liberal" government at work.
Greg Gutfeld repeats the old saw that conservatives want to control your private life and liberals want to control your economic life, but inevitably, all "progress" leads to a goverment that controls everything.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Reason.TV's Gutfeld Interview
Just in case you thought that Greg Gutfeld wasn't doing schtick on "Red Eye", there's a fun interview with him over at Reason.TV. Check it out, check-it-outers.
It was interesting to hear the thought processes behind Gutfeld's oddly evolved persona of sexual deviance with transgendered under-aged pool boys from third world countries, drug use and obsession with unicorns, but there's a similar sort of theme over at Ace of Spades. (Hobo-killing, cheap vodka swilling and the perennial obsession with transsexuals.)
The constant PR blitz that portrays anything "liberal" as cool and anything else as uncool has left those who actually want to debate issues in an interesting predicament. Protein Wisdom's Jeff Goldstein talks about how the left frames the debate and appropriates the right to assign meaning to what others say, even when it's the exact opposite of what they're saying.
But before and beyond that is the non-verbal delineation of tribes--I'd link to Bill Whittle's "Tribes" essay here except his move to Pajamas Media seems to have killed it. (Here's an excerpt from another site.)
The ex-Soviets, the Marxists, the statists--they've won the PR war. Those who object, therefore, find themselves in the unpopular crowd, attacking the cool kids. I think the defense is apparent in the whole attitude that Gutfeld, Ace and to an extent, even Goldstein take: "We may be creepy morons, but we're not stupid enough to believe THIS crap."
Or, for a different perspective, humor is the only defense against power.
It was interesting to hear the thought processes behind Gutfeld's oddly evolved persona of sexual deviance with transgendered under-aged pool boys from third world countries, drug use and obsession with unicorns, but there's a similar sort of theme over at Ace of Spades. (Hobo-killing, cheap vodka swilling and the perennial obsession with transsexuals.)
The constant PR blitz that portrays anything "liberal" as cool and anything else as uncool has left those who actually want to debate issues in an interesting predicament. Protein Wisdom's Jeff Goldstein talks about how the left frames the debate and appropriates the right to assign meaning to what others say, even when it's the exact opposite of what they're saying.
But before and beyond that is the non-verbal delineation of tribes--I'd link to Bill Whittle's "Tribes" essay here except his move to Pajamas Media seems to have killed it. (Here's an excerpt from another site.)
The ex-Soviets, the Marxists, the statists--they've won the PR war. Those who object, therefore, find themselves in the unpopular crowd, attacking the cool kids. I think the defense is apparent in the whole attitude that Gutfeld, Ace and to an extent, even Goldstein take: "We may be creepy morons, but we're not stupid enough to believe THIS crap."
Or, for a different perspective, humor is the only defense against power.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
A Bit Maelstrom First: Embedded YouTube!
Yeah, I know, I know: Welcome to 2007, but I've always kept this a mostly text blog, only occasionally posting a pic (or even rare, a really picture heavy post).
Anyway, I thought this cartoon, circulating 'round the 'net a lot these days, is just so apt, so simple, and expressed in such an obvious way that a child could understand it, that it's also obvious how far we've fallen in how short a time.
Worth watching, all the way to the end, and over again. Basic truths. Of course, the mistake in the YouTube headline is that it's not predicting future, it's reminding us of the past.
Anyway, I thought this cartoon, circulating 'round the 'net a lot these days, is just so apt, so simple, and expressed in such an obvious way that a child could understand it, that it's also obvious how far we've fallen in how short a time.
Worth watching, all the way to the end, and over again. Basic truths. Of course, the mistake in the YouTube headline is that it's not predicting future, it's reminding us of the past.
This just in...
...I'm a "cyber millennial."
Yet I don't drink at all. (What I love about this link, tho', is that the ad right next to it shows a bunch of chicks in their underwear using beer bongs.)
I'm a little unclear on the designation, actually. Is it a requirement to drink to be a cyber millennial?
I always liked the generational name "buster" for those of us who came after the "boomers" but I guess that never caught on.
Yet I don't drink at all. (What I love about this link, tho', is that the ad right next to it shows a bunch of chicks in their underwear using beer bongs.)
I'm a little unclear on the designation, actually. Is it a requirement to drink to be a cyber millennial?
I always liked the generational name "buster" for those of us who came after the "boomers" but I guess that never caught on.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Night At The Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian
The first Night at the Museum movie was a rather pleasant surprise for me and The Boy, who were there at the behest of The Flower. It struck a nice balance between silly comedy and (slightly) less silly stuff aided greatly by Alan Silvestri's score, which also helps this movie not degenerate into random-feeling chaos.
What? You didn't expect me to start with the score? In this case, it's absolutely necessary. The score sets the tone as more light adventure than wacky randomity, even though this movie is a lot more random and chaotic than the first.
And, it must be admitted, quite a bit more leaden. Somewhat ironically, The Boy and I enjoyed it more than The Flower did, who had higher expectations and found it predictable. I suspect this spells trouble for the movie, if the eight-year-old girl demo is finding it predictable.
And it's not that they didn't try. There are a few twists and wrinkles, and a few new bits, but a lot of these flat flat. Meanwhile, a lot of the best stuff is recycled stuff from the previous movie that still works. (A lot of humor based on the diminutive cowboy Jedediah, played by Owen Wilson, and Roman Centurion Octavius, played by Steve Coogan, e.g.) Also, this movie suffers from 70% less Robin Williams, so it's got that going for it.
Actually, the level of talent oozing from this film makes you really want it to be better. Hank Azaria plays Ahkmenrah's (from the first movie) evil brother with a lispy Boris Karloff accent. Bill Hader shows up as General Custer. Christopher Guest is Ivan the Terrible. And they're all good, as they always are. Ben Stiller gives his all, like he always does. He has a bit with Jonah Hill that's very Apatow-ish (clean, but goofy).
Basically, though, the funny's just not there. Things that should've been funny weren't. The lightness from the original movie is mostly gone. Not content-wise. This pretty much could be "G"-rated; Im' hard pressed to remember what might have pushed it over the line to "PG". But delivery-wise. There's too much self-awareness, too much "look at this, isn't this hilarious!" going on.
The original walked that line mostly successfully. This one not so much.
Buoying the movie impossibly is perennial Maelstrom crush, Amy Adams. She plays a delightfully heterosexual Amelia Earhart, as a sort of mix of Katharine Hepburn and Betty Hutton. Carla Gugino and her tight sweaters are gone without notice from this movie, to be replaced by Amy Adams in her tight pants (and remarkably fitted aviator jacket).
But more than eye-candy, Adams brings a much-needed unselfconscious lightness to the proceedings. At the same time, I did find myself thinking "They must have spent a freakin' fortune on this movie." In other words, where the first movie seemed like a shallow "high concept" ultra-slick Stiller vehicle, but managed to hide the gears pretty well, this movie ends up feeling a lot more transparent and cynical.
I didn't actually dislike it. It's not overlong. It doesn't try to be important or relevant. It's not vulgar or crass. It just doesn't have the finesse of the first one, which underscores the fundamentally unclever nature of both movies.
Again, The Flower was disappointed, finding it not at all surprising. Part of that, of course, may be that she was five-and-a-half when the last movie came out and is eight now. I would say that if you're interested in seeing it, and don't have high expectations, see it in the theater. Because I suspect that the movies' problems are going to be magnified on the small screen.
What? You didn't expect me to start with the score? In this case, it's absolutely necessary. The score sets the tone as more light adventure than wacky randomity, even though this movie is a lot more random and chaotic than the first.
And, it must be admitted, quite a bit more leaden. Somewhat ironically, The Boy and I enjoyed it more than The Flower did, who had higher expectations and found it predictable. I suspect this spells trouble for the movie, if the eight-year-old girl demo is finding it predictable.
And it's not that they didn't try. There are a few twists and wrinkles, and a few new bits, but a lot of these flat flat. Meanwhile, a lot of the best stuff is recycled stuff from the previous movie that still works. (A lot of humor based on the diminutive cowboy Jedediah, played by Owen Wilson, and Roman Centurion Octavius, played by Steve Coogan, e.g.) Also, this movie suffers from 70% less Robin Williams, so it's got that going for it.
Actually, the level of talent oozing from this film makes you really want it to be better. Hank Azaria plays Ahkmenrah's (from the first movie) evil brother with a lispy Boris Karloff accent. Bill Hader shows up as General Custer. Christopher Guest is Ivan the Terrible. And they're all good, as they always are. Ben Stiller gives his all, like he always does. He has a bit with Jonah Hill that's very Apatow-ish (clean, but goofy).
Basically, though, the funny's just not there. Things that should've been funny weren't. The lightness from the original movie is mostly gone. Not content-wise. This pretty much could be "G"-rated; Im' hard pressed to remember what might have pushed it over the line to "PG". But delivery-wise. There's too much self-awareness, too much "look at this, isn't this hilarious!" going on.
The original walked that line mostly successfully. This one not so much.
Buoying the movie impossibly is perennial Maelstrom crush, Amy Adams. She plays a delightfully heterosexual Amelia Earhart, as a sort of mix of Katharine Hepburn and Betty Hutton. Carla Gugino and her tight sweaters are gone without notice from this movie, to be replaced by Amy Adams in her tight pants (and remarkably fitted aviator jacket).
But more than eye-candy, Adams brings a much-needed unselfconscious lightness to the proceedings. At the same time, I did find myself thinking "They must have spent a freakin' fortune on this movie." In other words, where the first movie seemed like a shallow "high concept" ultra-slick Stiller vehicle, but managed to hide the gears pretty well, this movie ends up feeling a lot more transparent and cynical.
I didn't actually dislike it. It's not overlong. It doesn't try to be important or relevant. It's not vulgar or crass. It just doesn't have the finesse of the first one, which underscores the fundamentally unclever nature of both movies.
Again, The Flower was disappointed, finding it not at all surprising. Part of that, of course, may be that she was five-and-a-half when the last movie came out and is eight now. I would say that if you're interested in seeing it, and don't have high expectations, see it in the theater. Because I suspect that the movies' problems are going to be magnified on the small screen.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Manic Monday Apocalypso on Friday!: Terminator Salvation
We were going to see the new Michael Keaton movie (he directs) called The Merry Gentleman, but it had cleared out to make room for the new Terminator movie, so we saw that instead.
I would save this review for Manic Monday Apocalypso but I figured some of you might consider seeing this this weekend.
I'd skipped the third movie in the Terminator series, feeling that it was really James Cameron that was the heart-and-soul of those flicks, that raised them above standard B-movie fare. (I'm dubious of Harlan Ellison's claim on the property. Not that Cameron didn't steal the ideas, only that the ideas are both fairly generic and not at all the point.)
A chilling factor for me is that this movie is directed by the infamous McG, who helmed the two Charlie's Angels movies. There was much to dislike about those strangely uneven films but they at least weren't boring. And that's not a bad way to describe the new movie, though it's not nearly as uneven as those earlier films. Unfocused might be a better term.
So, let's talk about the good things. Fine acting, as you would expect from Christian Bale. In smaller roles are Jane Alexander (who could be her own MMA feature for her 1983 role in Testament), Helena Bonham Carter and the great Michael Ironside. The primary supporting roles are played by Sam Worthington and Moon Bloodgood, who I thought were fine, but seem a little callow in comparison. (Partly and maybe mostly, this is their characters, and by the end I think the actors have fleshed them out more than the writers did.) Anton Yelchin, fresh of his Checkov role in Star Trek manages to come off pretty dang tough, and evocative of Michael Biehn in the original movie. They even have a little girl in the Newt role.
Elfman does the music, and does a fine job, though there's not enough of it. This may sound strange, but there's not an over-reliance on CGI. The T-800--the classic Terminator--has been slightly redesigned. It was a skinny, skeletal thing in the original, stop-motion animated. But we're sort of jaded to that now, I think, and the redesign has a more muscular build--like it's a guy in a Terminator suit. This is a good choice.
Also, the CGI is really good. That helps a lot. It might not be a guy in a Terminator suit, but if not, it's smooth. This helps the action feel a lot more credible, and to McG's credit, there are some good old-fashioned fights and vehicle stunts, instead of the CGI spectaculars that get so numbing.
There are a lot of other really nice touches, too, which I won't spoil by enumerating here.
This movie falls well short of greatness, though. First, we have the time-travel problem. The story requires John Connor (Bale) be the savior of the human resistance, but he mostly seems like a pain in the ass. In fact, I went through 2/3rds of the movie wondering what the hell he was doing that was even necessary, given the way the war was going. That was nicely resolved, though, and ultimately made sense. So I didn't count that against it.
No, the real problem is with the characters of Marcus and Blair. We see Marcus put to death in the first scene of the movie (in 2009, presumably), and yet he's walking around in 2018, and Connor and Reese (Yelchin) are secondary characters to him, and--to a degree--his relationship with Blair.
But because the story really should be about Connor and Reese fulfilling the prophecy of the first movie, we get a lot of cuts from Marcus to Connor or Reese, sometimes disrupting the flow of the action. Also evoking Star Trek, in the sense that the baggage the movie is required to carry is both its strength and its weakness.
This forces some awkward scenes, such as Connor having to decide what to do with Marcus. He actually makes up his mind and then yells, inexplicably, "Who are you?!" Bale does a good job, but the whole scene--a dramatic focal point--flops.
The next big dramatic moment, where Connor delivers a speech about how humans are different from machines, also flops out of sheer silliness and inappropriateness.
And without giving too much away, the story hinges on this bit of information which allows the main Skynet base--and silly me, I thought the Skynet base would be, you know, in the sky--to be attacked. Things don't come off as expected (do they ever?), yet the Skynet base ends up seeming ridiculously easy to get in and out of.
And there's the other thing, the big thing, which is that the view of the future doesn't quite hold up. The original concept had humans as a ragtag underground resistance. This movie carries that idea forward, but at the same time, features humans with subs and jets--neither of which would really be sustainable in that context--and says there are areas the robots haven't ventured. (And, queerly, at the same time, those areas are not where the humans are strongly based.)
To top this all off, there's a strongly hierarchical command structure and traditional military at the begining of the movie, with a suddenly completely casual rebel feel at the end. And they communicate via radio. Like, regular radio.
But I suppose I'm just overthinking it. One of the nice thing about those old WWII movies, though, was that were enough people around who had been there, that movies had a certain verisimilitude I'd like to see more strongly applied to post-apocalyptic stuff. (As you know if you've read this blog for long.)
Anyway, The Boy liked it very much, though he was a bit taken aback by the PG-13ness of it. And it's true, this is a much gentler movie than the first two. There were certain things that didn't hold together for him, but it didn't keep him from enjoying it.
So, once again, a good summer popcorn movie, like Star Trek, but rife with flaws, like Star Trek.
I would save this review for Manic Monday Apocalypso but I figured some of you might consider seeing this this weekend.
I'd skipped the third movie in the Terminator series, feeling that it was really James Cameron that was the heart-and-soul of those flicks, that raised them above standard B-movie fare. (I'm dubious of Harlan Ellison's claim on the property. Not that Cameron didn't steal the ideas, only that the ideas are both fairly generic and not at all the point.)
A chilling factor for me is that this movie is directed by the infamous McG, who helmed the two Charlie's Angels movies. There was much to dislike about those strangely uneven films but they at least weren't boring. And that's not a bad way to describe the new movie, though it's not nearly as uneven as those earlier films. Unfocused might be a better term.
So, let's talk about the good things. Fine acting, as you would expect from Christian Bale. In smaller roles are Jane Alexander (who could be her own MMA feature for her 1983 role in Testament), Helena Bonham Carter and the great Michael Ironside. The primary supporting roles are played by Sam Worthington and Moon Bloodgood, who I thought were fine, but seem a little callow in comparison. (Partly and maybe mostly, this is their characters, and by the end I think the actors have fleshed them out more than the writers did.) Anton Yelchin, fresh of his Checkov role in Star Trek manages to come off pretty dang tough, and evocative of Michael Biehn in the original movie. They even have a little girl in the Newt role.
Elfman does the music, and does a fine job, though there's not enough of it. This may sound strange, but there's not an over-reliance on CGI. The T-800--the classic Terminator--has been slightly redesigned. It was a skinny, skeletal thing in the original, stop-motion animated. But we're sort of jaded to that now, I think, and the redesign has a more muscular build--like it's a guy in a Terminator suit. This is a good choice.
Also, the CGI is really good. That helps a lot. It might not be a guy in a Terminator suit, but if not, it's smooth. This helps the action feel a lot more credible, and to McG's credit, there are some good old-fashioned fights and vehicle stunts, instead of the CGI spectaculars that get so numbing.
There are a lot of other really nice touches, too, which I won't spoil by enumerating here.
This movie falls well short of greatness, though. First, we have the time-travel problem. The story requires John Connor (Bale) be the savior of the human resistance, but he mostly seems like a pain in the ass. In fact, I went through 2/3rds of the movie wondering what the hell he was doing that was even necessary, given the way the war was going. That was nicely resolved, though, and ultimately made sense. So I didn't count that against it.
No, the real problem is with the characters of Marcus and Blair. We see Marcus put to death in the first scene of the movie (in 2009, presumably), and yet he's walking around in 2018, and Connor and Reese (Yelchin) are secondary characters to him, and--to a degree--his relationship with Blair.
But because the story really should be about Connor and Reese fulfilling the prophecy of the first movie, we get a lot of cuts from Marcus to Connor or Reese, sometimes disrupting the flow of the action. Also evoking Star Trek, in the sense that the baggage the movie is required to carry is both its strength and its weakness.
This forces some awkward scenes, such as Connor having to decide what to do with Marcus. He actually makes up his mind and then yells, inexplicably, "Who are you?!" Bale does a good job, but the whole scene--a dramatic focal point--flops.
The next big dramatic moment, where Connor delivers a speech about how humans are different from machines, also flops out of sheer silliness and inappropriateness.
And without giving too much away, the story hinges on this bit of information which allows the main Skynet base--and silly me, I thought the Skynet base would be, you know, in the sky--to be attacked. Things don't come off as expected (do they ever?), yet the Skynet base ends up seeming ridiculously easy to get in and out of.
And there's the other thing, the big thing, which is that the view of the future doesn't quite hold up. The original concept had humans as a ragtag underground resistance. This movie carries that idea forward, but at the same time, features humans with subs and jets--neither of which would really be sustainable in that context--and says there are areas the robots haven't ventured. (And, queerly, at the same time, those areas are not where the humans are strongly based.)
To top this all off, there's a strongly hierarchical command structure and traditional military at the begining of the movie, with a suddenly completely casual rebel feel at the end. And they communicate via radio. Like, regular radio.
But I suppose I'm just overthinking it. One of the nice thing about those old WWII movies, though, was that were enough people around who had been there, that movies had a certain verisimilitude I'd like to see more strongly applied to post-apocalyptic stuff. (As you know if you've read this blog for long.)
Anyway, The Boy liked it very much, though he was a bit taken aback by the PG-13ness of it. And it's true, this is a much gentler movie than the first two. There were certain things that didn't hold together for him, but it didn't keep him from enjoying it.
So, once again, a good summer popcorn movie, like Star Trek, but rife with flaws, like Star Trek.
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