It's tricky to rock a rhyme

Too busy watching Undeclared. So Brilliant:
Career Girls
The Chase
Satisfaction

War of the Worlds (2005)

After The Terminal, there was a sense that Spielberg wanted to address 9/11 but didn't know how to (The Terminal is a film that is about September 11 without actually being about it). And with War of the Worlds he took it head on. This though may be building to his next film, Munich or Revenge, or whatever it will eventually be called. And after A.I. (a career changing film if there ever was one), Spielberg seems on a more introspective path, as A.I. seems more important to Spielberg's "Adult" career than the myriad of films that proceeded it (with Empire of the Sun left out of this equation as I haven't seen it since it hit video... When I was 12).

Ultimately the crisis in War of the Worlds is that it is balls to bone a summer picture, and as such the final twenty minute allow for some as reductively done as possible heroics that make Tom Cruise's Ray Ferrier character at least something of a good guy. I don't know if this is a problem of the film, per se, so much as the nature of the beast. Spielberg is ultimately smuggling, and that's okay. It just weakens the tenor of the picture and keeps it from being a masterpiece. But it's a pretty remarkable "Incoherent text"

The biggest flaw of the film is Ray's son Robbie, who feels more a plot device than character. As has been discussed elsewhere, he must be an ass to Ray the entire time. At first this works. Any person interested in the craft of filmmaking would do well to study the sequence in which Ray and Robbie play baseball. From Robbie donning the hat, to their conversation, and aggressions, Spielberg rightfully can call himself a master. Alas, Robbie runs off to join the Army at one point, and then returns for the end. This is the inherent compromise of making a nine figure picture, as Robbie is shown going into a situation that looks to be apocalyptic and offers no hope, which gave me the sense that the last 20 some minutes (on first viewing) could be read as a fever dream of relief. Alas, that interpretation doesn't hold water under the numerous repeat viewings I've given the film.

This also ties into some of the elements that become more glaring after first viewing. Ray tries to keep his daughter Rachel oblivious to the death and destruction around them as often as possible (in a way that recalled for me a film Spielberg supposedly HATED, Life is Beautiful), and as the film is told subjectively through Ray, we're not sure what Robbie's seeing that would make him run off to war, to think that there was something he could do. His character is meant to represent a mindset, but over the course of the film, with the aliens kicking mucho anus, it's hard to see why he'd feel the way he does. I guess though that has more to do with me. But even so, the biggest problem with the film is that characters keep complaining once they've seen the shit. Rachel complains about sleeping in the basement, and the films already hit a point where Rachel should have seen enough to know that maybe listening to Dad in this situation might have merit. So certain sequences have greater power than others, like the car ride (a remarkable CGI'd one shot, again, Spielberg is an absolute master), but characters keep yelling to cover up the fact if they sat down and listened then they might stop yelling. I guess that's fine, but when the world looks to be going to the shitters, you know, you think there might be a moment of taking stock. Again, fever dream.

Another thing is that there is a lot of inconsistency to the vision. There's a great crashed jet plane that landed on Ray's ex-wife's house, and a crew of reports are ransacking the plane for food. We see a reporter chug water like she hasn't had any in a day or so. And yet this neighborhood seems unaffected, and their piracy seems more a point of having a set piece (and allowing for some exposition) then it behaving organically. And opening the question of food and water (which Ray's kids refused all but ten minutes earlier) points out that we're in movie land. This sort of "Huh" also hits in the ferry scene as people are in cars (cars with their lights on) when not but two scenes earlier people were dragging Ray's fam out of their working car because they wanted transportation. That sequence, the car theft scene, is impeccable, but between it and the ferry sequence (where people are sitting in working cars) it again points out that much of the film is done more for effect than coherence. I guess though one could argue the whole piece is meant to be a fever dream.

And this sense of "okay" becomes even more problematic in the third act, when Tim Robbins character Harlan Ogilivy switches at least two and possibly three gears, as he goes from war battled Ambulance driver, vigilante, to scared paranoid (the final transition allows for the film's bleakest sequence) but Harlan having been an ambulance driver... It just feels off. And what sets Harlan off is the Alien's use for humans, which, again, doesn't feel in tandem with what we've seen previous.

I say these things, but what I'm left with is that Spielberg made so much right, so many sequence of merit, and honestly commenting on the times, that I'm left weighing it's problems against the sum of its parts, which are all quite great. Spielberg knows how to put sequences together, and its an impressive feat, it just doesn't congeal.

Cats and Dogs living together

Two of my best friends are marrying each other (male and female, since the govenator forbid otherwise). I'm gonna be a best man. There you go. I gotta be honest, any time I told friends about it, I got a bit teary eyed.

5:30 AM, the next day

Damon: (weak) hello?
God: Why is it always my fault? Don't people understand fucking free will impacts everything? Things like who's in charge when, the weather, how people respond to facts... I'm not in charge of this. I left it to you bitches. It's not my fault, I swear. I had nothing to do with this, and Satan, Satan could give a fuck all. Actually (hands phone).
Satan: Hey, what's up?
Damon: Satan, damn, I haven't heard from you in a long ass time. How you doing.
Satan: God wanted me to come over. Have a little pow wow.
Damon: You still living in Burbank?
Satan: Hell yes.
Damon: (laughs)
Satan: Oh, oh. Fuck it's early.
Damon: Yeah, I'm gonna crash out.
Satan: You got my cell?
Damon: Nah, but I don't have my glasses on, so hit me on the email. If you're free this weekend, it's been too long.
Satan: God mentioned you guys were going to hang out.
Damon: Maybe Friday or Saturday after work?
Satan: Sure.
Damon: Aight.
Satan: Good morning.
Damon: Good morning.

A very Special Conversation

Damon: You've reached Damon and this is my answering machine.
God: Pick up. Pick up, pick up pick up. (Click)
Damon: What, it's three thirty in the morning.
God: Oh hey, Damon, how's it going.
Damon: Tired, I was sleeping. I've been watching a lot of movies, writing. What's up?
God: You're asking me what's up?
Damon: Yeah, you're probably pretty busy these days.
God: My phone has not stopped ringing for the last week and change, and I haven't talked to you in forever.
Damon: Well, people want to know what's up.
God: That they do.
Damon: How you hangin?
God: Oh, I'm exausted. Fucking hell.
Damon: I won't even get you started on it then.
God: You see that Kanye West thing?
Damon: Yeah, it made me chuckle.
God: That's some great rock and roll suicide, right there.
Damon: I don't think it'll hurt his career, but it may politicize him in the future.
God: We shall see. The problem with events like this is people want to call it like they see it, but unfortunately they see it blinded by their emotions.
Damon: If ever there was a time to be.
God: True dat.
Damon: So, you seen anything lately?
God: What is this free time you speak of.
Damon: Hey, you're God.
God: I know. All right, all right, I was on the phone and watched Babe with the sound off.
Damon: The pig movie?
God: Yeah. It was a nice pick me up.
Damon: I was watching some Star Trek lately.
God: Jesus Damon, how long's it been since you've had a girlfriend?
Damon: Long enough, but that's not the point.
God: Look if you start down that road, you know, your dick could fall off before you date someone.
Damon: It's mostly at work.
God: Mostly.
Damon: Mostly.
God: Yeah right.
Damon: Anyway, I saw this footage on the supplements...
God: You get paid to watch supplements now?
Damon: Yes.
God: And...
Damon: Well George Takei talked abotu growing up in an American Concentration camp, and it made me think how we're only sixty years removed from that. I mean, I grew up in the cold war, but it was always a removed threat. My generation saw no wars, but not so long before I was born people like LBJ were buying elections. I guess I find it sort of comforting to know that we're not all that far removed from primitive times, and we've made leaps and bounds in the last half a century. It's not much of a hope, but it's something.
God: I was afraid this would all be a roundabout criticism of me.
Damon: Nah, I'm not like that.
God: I don't think this is going to settle down for a while.
Damon: Not until a lot of people are fired, for one, and, you know, New Orleans...
God: Look, why don't we plan some down time this weekend. Maybe just you and me. I got herb, I got drinks, we can get our chill on.
Damon: Herb? Oregano?
God: I'm just saying it's been a rough couple, and I might want to get stoned.
Damon: Does that mean I'm driving?
God: Probably. Maybe hit a tittie bar or three.
Damon: You paying?
God: Shit, I'll even buy you a lap dance if you like.
Damon: Not my scene, but, you know, I can't say no to you.
God: And that's what I like aboucha.
Damon: Bull shit.
God: Nah, I know. Sorry for waking you.
Damon: You know, man, any time. For you. I know how bad it's got to be.
God: You have no idea. PEACE! (Click)

Fucking Amal

Elin Olsson(Alexandra Dahlström) is the girl everyone thinks is going to be in trouble. She's already been labeled a slut, even though she's never done much more than third base, while her sister seems more aggressively sexual (while also the less attractive of the two). She finds men boring. Agnes (Rebecka Liljeberg) has lived in Amal for two years and the only friend she's come close to making is a girl in a wheelchair. Both are so low on the social totem pole that they will turn on each other hoping to somehow get away from the stink of their outcast status. Agnes is also in love with Elin, and tells no one. During a birthday party for Agnes (more arranged by Agnes's mom then anyone else), Elin shows up out of boredom and on a bet from her sister kisses Agnes, which shatters the young girl's mind. But there's something there. But Elin can't come out because she is among the popular kids, and does have a social status to maintain.

Lukas Moodysson's feature debut is one of those films that is a small slice of perfection. It also suggests that certain ideas, moods, and beliefs transcend geographical boundries. I got a collection of his films as a gift, and I think the person who sent them to me (who's read some of my scripts) knew what he was doing. Pretentious as it may be to suggest, but I share some ideas with Moodysson in that we are interested in similar modes of storytelling: there's something to stripping a story and characters to their truths that can make a film transcendent, and what I have tried to accomplish with something I've written is very much what he filmed.

I think Fucking Amal is a fucking masterpiece.

Today was a waste

Outside of writing these:
The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari
Dressedto Kill
Whirlpool

I'm tired, I'm headachy, I had a good weekend all things considered, but not a particularly productive one.

No excuses

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/4213214.stm

It sounds like Edmond could be the film of the year

God Bless Stuart Gordon. I've seen Spielberg's War of the Worlds a lot lately. I'll offer in depth analysis tomorrow when I sober up some. I spent all day moving shit for a friend. The N.O. coverage makes me angry, and then sometimes happy when the obvious is spoken.

You know it's hard out here for a pimp

And I'll add some comments tomorrow or Sunday, but jesus, New Orleans. I mean, chatting about movies... it seems so silly. God Bless Kayne West, and let's hope our nation's journalists grow some (or retain their) balls.

My heart will go on...

I know it's old news, but I saw Titanic again this weekend. Man, I hate this movie. I wonder how people will view it now - in light of 9/11 - with the upcoming special edition, I wonder if the love this film received will fade, or if it already has. Cameron turned a tragedy into an action spectacle, and I don't and never got the appeal. I think it has something to do with a certain sort of fantasy/narcissism, as the film is about someone who learns important life lessons through a tragedy, and it's about putting yourself in the main character's shoes, safe with the knowledge that not only will you survive, but that you've turned the tragedy into the greatest moment of your life. I guess that's not a bad place to be for a story, but I think because Cameron wishes to show the entirety of the boat sinking his heroes must ride the ship down and in doing so loses the inherent humanity of such an event. Because he decides to stage action sequences (that have characters running through the ocean water that proved fatal to many who were in it for merely minutes) in the middle of the boat going down and indeed the sinking is something of a bravura digital stunt, when characters begin to drown or fall and hit propellers it has the tinge of a set piece instead of feeling tragic (paving the way for Michael Bay's grotesque tribute to Americans dying in spectacular ways in Pearl Harbor). In that way the film has the illusion of dealing with death, but allows the viewer safe haven from it. It robs the tragedy of the real grip of fatality, as even Jack's passing becomes not about the thing itself but a lover sacrificing himself in the name of love.

Perhaps it's an idealistic viewpoint of mine, but a lot of the filmmakers who survived World War II didn't indulge in gratuity when it came to filming such events. Perhaps it was assumed a somber tone was best or the nature of the rating system, but I've always figured, rightly or wrongly, that Sam Fuller wouldn't want to show the sorts of things Spielberg did in Saving Private Ryan, and that only people who've never lived through that sort of chaos could do something like that (Platoon is not a picture I think of as being exhilarating in that way, nor any of Stone's war films). Whereas the heroic bloodshed of a film like The Killer makes perfect sense: it is removed from a reality, it makes no point of "realism." And there is something to the modern ennui I see reflected in these sorts of films as they present stuff like this in maximum detail because many Americans have never had to face such situations. I think it is fair to say that one couldn't put these sorts of characters in the middle of the world trade center (Victorian underpinings aside) because at this time and cultural climate it would be viewed as a grotesque exploitation. But I guess that's the difference eighty years make - there's no sense of the real event, nor no sense of the real.

In that way it's interesting to note that America has successfully made war for the last two decades away from the scrunitizing public eye. It is doubtful twenty years from now there could be the sort of mass cultural decompression that seemed to hit with such films as Platoon. Though with the state of Iraq at current, it's hard to guess where our culture will be with this war when all is said and done.

Digression aside, I could rail on the film's sense of class, which is simplistic at best and insulting at worst (is it unfair of me to find it distasteful that a film that cost 200 million dollars suggests the greatness of a free from moneyed life? It's the sort of attitude that one can only have if one doesn't ever have to worry about money). There's something about cultural phenomenons like this (or, to pick another easy target, Pretty Woman) that seem about a fantasy that celebrates bourgeois dreams while paying lip service to the working class, or working poor. I can't believe I still harbor this much distaste for the film.

I'm a hundred percent legit

And you know I ain't about all that bullshit:

Boudu Saved From Drowning
Ong Bak

Of all the gin joints in the world...

I go to see where Broken Social Scene are playing in Los Angeles, and it turns out that they're playing literally blocks from where I live. Which is sweet if you know LA and its traffic. I may even walk to the show (or at least part of the way). This will be my third BSS show, it's interesting to track my life by it. The first time was in October of 2003, and I had just broken up with someone I was with for three years. I remember at the concert there was a girl I was eyeing, and I got the feeling she was trying to throw her roomate at me, or the roommate liked me more. Couldn't tell. That said, there was still flirting going on and the girl I liked said to me "You've got a good geek cool going for you." which I referenced elsewhere on this here blog. I was with a friend (whom I drove) and he got rather hammered so we ended up ditching out before the show was over. At the time I wasn't 100% sold on the band, but numerous relistens to You Forgot it In People got me hooked, and I couldn't wait to see them again.

The next time was in May of 2004, and was one of the best concert going experiences of my life. Scratch that. The best. Shortly thereafter I made contact with a girl who I ended up seeing for a couple of weeks. In March of that year, things went bad for me (well, bad is sort of an exageration). Or, that is to say, in March of 2004 my life had to change and forced me on the road I'm on now. I am lucky enough in life to suggest that few things have been truly damaging to me, instead I look at it as just the way it went down, you know? Well, I got laid off, and it was hard cause I had my own home in Portland, and basically it forced me to leave town. Which was, by all means, the right thing to do. But it hurt. Well, it did and it didn't. I spent a year not working and wrote a lot, and moved and now I'm settled (as it were) in LA. But few major transitions are clean, and you're going to leave some friends behind that you won't get to see for months/years, and you hope that they last. But 28 was a hard year.

I say that because this year (my 29th) has been pretty awesome. I'm writing something that looks like it'll be made, I had a walk-on in a movie, I have a job I like, things seem to be moving well. I wonder what November 8th will bring.

I had a Dream, I had an Awesome Dream

That I was choosing between which ironic T-Shirt to wear for the day. I think I was making fun of myself in my dream. Not sure.

Rembrandt's conundrum

The Warriors is made of chapters. It's an effective cinematic tool if used properly, the film is divided up into chunks of narrative, mini-situations to which the protagonists must deal with the current threat, though offer no great resolution to their travails. As such you can break many chunks of the film into their set pieces: The Baseball furies, the rollerskating dudes, The Orphans, Cyrus's gathering, etc.

Perhaps most fascinating (though the film is a wonder), is the section with The Lizzies, an all girl gang whose interests seem to be Sapphic, yet act as Sirens/seductresses to the three Warriors in their company: Rembrandt (Marcelino Sánchez), Cochise (David Harris) and Vermin (Terry Michos). The three are brought in thinking they've found safe haven, and begin to get their game on with the ladies. ExceptRembrandtt, who does not partake, and who quickly gets a weird vibe.

Marcelino Sanchez died in 1986 of cancer at the age of 29. In an era where A.I.D.S. was oftenreferredd to as "Gay cancer" or A.R.C.Rembrandtt, the character, is the artist of the group, and doesn't have the street toughs of the others (he also, in defense of himself sprays paint in an opponents face, which I will not type as a homosexual gesture, though could be read as such in a very "graduate thesis paper" sort of way). I'm not saying this to cause offense, honestly I think Sanchez's probable homosexuality adds a deeper resonance to this sequence.

Rembrandtt is, as I said, the only one who doesn't fall under the spell of The Lizzie's seduction. So his reticence can be read threefold: he's reacting because he knows something's off (in a general non-sexual sense), he's reacting this way because as a homosexual he has no interest in their sexuality and is therefore more aware of the danger or is madepanickyy by the nature of such direct sexuality on display, or he's attuned to their homosexuality because he recognizes that they too are of a different breed (and then that alerts him to their offness). I would suggest all three come to play.

Which is to say that I think The Warriors is a strong and important text well worth lauding as a classic.

To boldly go where everyone has gone ad Nauseum...

For someone who feels a bit entrenched in geek pop culture (as cinema has moved that way), there have always been certain deficiancies in my geek knowledge. One of the most damning was thatI never really read comic books (my sensibilities were more in tune with Mad Magazine), and I was never all that into Star Trek (in fact I saw more episodes of Facts of Life). I ended up seeing Search for Spock in the theater when my Grandfather was in town, a rare chance to see the man, who lived in Texas and came to visit about three times in his life. We never went to him, that was just the way it was. My cinema culture was different at that point, video was just starting to kick in (I think we got a Betamax around 1984-5), and for me the thrill of seeing SFS was simply going to the theater, where I began to learn more about movies through video and TV screenings, while my father instilled in me a love of the Saturday Night Live players, and comedians like Cheech and Chong (somehow considered perfect for 12 years olds, why I don't know). My parents were picky about what my brother and I saw, so we definitely made out way to the Star Wars films, but not Raiders, or Temple of Doom. Gremlins and Ghostbusters, but no Superman III. My father did take me to see The Right Stuff, though. I also saw Dune in the theater.... strange filmgoing time. I did a double feature of Star Trek IV and Police Academy Four, skipped Five, and have seen every Trek in a theater since, to continually diminshing returns. I guess I was just more into the movies, and the TV show seemed like nerdbait.

Work, however, has put Season Three on me, and I've watched the majority of it and became a bit hooked. I see the shows flaws, but I think the show is successful for two reasons. The first is pussy, to put it plainly. Every episode has a hot girl in it, and usually someone on the Enterprise is getting their fuck on. I think it also helps explain the geek appeal. But the show drips horniness. The second is that Kirk is the perfect enbodiment of the Kennedy-esque leader, in charge, take charge, and always smarter than his opponents. But he's also very very horny. As such, I've decided to watch all the Star Trek, so I'm on Star Trek The Original Series Season One. The other major benefit is that there are so many references I've missed over the years that keep hitting me while watching it.

Oh, and I wrote this:
Top Hat

We know we belong to a land

For the second time in my life, I'm paid to watch movies. Un/Fortunately I don't even have to write about them. This week was certainly crazy, I spent 64 hours on the job. What are you going to do.

On acompletely unrelated note, recently I watched Oklahoma, which ties into the week I spent with Astaire and Rogers. This movie is great, but for all the ways it is odd and antiquated.

The main thing that's endearing, and it's something I think its creators are aware of, is Judd Fry. What a fascinating character. In the film, one could argue his character is stripped of some shadings because the song "Lonely Room" was not included, but even so in this version there's something about Judd that becomes evident: if written today Judd would be the hero. The hero, Curly, comes to Judd's room to sing him a song about how much better the world would be if Judd was dead. Judd simply wishes to be above his station, and be with a girl who kind of ignores him. He pines for her. The one thing against Judd is that he's a bit homicidal. Hell, that didn't hurt Barry Egan's chances. It bespeaks how our culture has changed, we can't accept shining knights as our heroes as readily, and it reflects in our cinema that few have that Camelot quality (and that's a reflection of both Arthurian legend and the Kennedy-esque swagger that permeates from someone like Captain Kirk... but more on him later). Then again Curly has his faults, and they're rather evident. There's also something to the reading that Laurey is torn between the two, as Judd represents real sex, and her first sexual awakening, while Curly is idealized to the point of abstraction. This though is an undercurrent, perhaps more implied than realized in the text.

All this ties into the ending, where "frontier justice" prevails. It's a very odd scene, and I'm wondering how much of the film is Ziinneman smugling. There's something very queasy about it all, and I wonder if it's intentional or just a fault of a narrative structure that has Judd Fry dying and the story wrapping up with a married couple driving off for their honeymoon in less than ten minutes of screen time. There is a sense that Curly is right, that the people are right for what they do, but there is a decided shade of gray to it.

The film, and it's always been my complaint with films like this is that as a musical it errs on the side of singing vs. dancing, and I think it's why people of my generation often have a reticence to the genre. There's really only one dance number ("Kansas City," farmer and the rancher isn't all that dancy) while the songs are beautiful, but not all that sexy. I grew to love "All or Nothing" though, especially for the passage:
Annie:Would you build me a house/All painted white/Cute and clean and purty and bright
Will:Big enough fer two but not fer three!
Annie:S'posin' that we should have a third one?
Will:He better look a lot like me!
Annie:Yer spited image!
Will:He better look a lot like me!

The other big problem with the film is that, though Gordon MacRae can belt the shit out of a tune, he's not cinematically charismatic, he's something of a blank. He doesn't emote in a particularly cinematic way, which may be why Rod Stieger steals the movie from him. Again, he, like Howard Keel, is emblematic of why the Movie musical died. The leads become pretty objects.

"I was wrong, I conceed that. But..."

How come this has become the hardest thing for people to say these days? It's hard for me not to connect this to the culture we live under.

I go away and Tom Sizemore gets a sex tape?

Damn, I knew I should blog more. I have some thoughts about a musical about a state, and my thoughts on my newfound exposure to a geek staple this weekend.

Cheek to Cheek

The Barkleys of Broadway
Shall we Dance

Musicals this week. Top Hat and Boudu next week (with possibly more on top of those two). Trying to finish up my review of Top Hat right now, cause my week should be busier than last week, which was hella busy. I have some Star Trek thoughts I might get to tonight. Maybe tomorrow.