Monday, February 26, 2007
Oscar, Oscar, Oscar
For about the past three or four years, the Oscars have been on Sunday nights, and not during spring break. Time was, they were during the March spring break… and on a weeknight. I’d go to my hometown, and Oscar was our version of the Superbowl. We’d gather around a television, eat, drink, cheer, argue, and be merry. But golden lads and girls all must, as chimneysweepers, come to dust. So, I haven’t really watched the Oscars for years. I honor how important they are to Hollywood history, culture, and the future of the industry. But, more often than not, they get it wrong, and those losses really sting. It would be easy to say, “Oh, the Oscars don’t matter.”
But they kinda-sorta do.
And yet, they’ve always been a joke. HOW GREEN WAS MY VALLEY over CITIZEN KANE… or THE MALTESE FALCON? THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH over HIGH NOON? MY FAIR LADY over DR. STRANGELOVE? OLIVER over THE LION IN WINTER? ROCKY over ALL THE PRESIDENT’S MEN, NETWORK, and TAXI DRIVER? KRAMER VS. KRAMER over ALL THAT JAZZ and APOCALYPSE NOW? CHARIOTS OF FIRE over REDS? TERMS OF ENDEARMENT over THE RIGHT STUFF? DANCES WITH WOLVES over GOODFELLAS? FORREST GUMP over PULP FICTION and SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION? TITANIC over LA CONFIDENTIAL… and BOOGIE NIGHTS, which wasn’t even nominated? GLADIATOR over… well, there had to be something better that year. RETURN OF THE KING over LOST IN TRANSLATION? MILLION DOLLAR BABY over SIDEWAYS or the non-nominated ETERNAL SUNSHINE?
But, I keep coming back, anyway.
Having said that, this year’s nominees were so dreary-looking that I only saw two of them – the magnificent LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE and THE DEPARTED. I wanted to see THE QUEEN, but had zero interest in BABEL (looked too much like CRASH, which I enjoyed… once) and LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA (Clint lost me with the lugubrious, dull MYSTIC RIVER – never again).
Again, this was a year where several outstanding films came out which were stung by the Academy’s short memory. You’re telling me that V FOR VENDETTA didn’t get a Best Adapted Screenplay nomination? You’re kidding me. Elitist assholes. And what about the constantly-shafted Robert Altman’s final film (and the best movie I saw, last year), A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION. Not only did it get great reviews, it was thickly layered with complexities that will keep film students pondering it for decades.
Nothing?
Nothing?
Yeah, which pretty much summed up my interest in the awards, this year.
Criswell predicts that, fifty years from now, Garrison Keillor will finally be recognized as one of the darkest and most deliciously passive-aggressive writers of our time. This film may very well reveal a lot more than people currently recognize.
So, chalk it up to another year of, well, another year.
And let it be said that I'm glad Scorsese won. Not his best film, but as Ebert noted, he hasn't made a bad one. Finally, he has his Oscar. Fair enough.
For about the past three or four years, the Oscars have been on Sunday nights, and not during spring break. Time was, they were during the March spring break… and on a weeknight. I’d go to my hometown, and Oscar was our version of the Superbowl. We’d gather around a television, eat, drink, cheer, argue, and be merry. But golden lads and girls all must, as chimneysweepers, come to dust. So, I haven’t really watched the Oscars for years. I honor how important they are to Hollywood history, culture, and the future of the industry. But, more often than not, they get it wrong, and those losses really sting. It would be easy to say, “Oh, the Oscars don’t matter.”
But they kinda-sorta do.
And yet, they’ve always been a joke. HOW GREEN WAS MY VALLEY over CITIZEN KANE… or THE MALTESE FALCON? THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH over HIGH NOON? MY FAIR LADY over DR. STRANGELOVE? OLIVER over THE LION IN WINTER? ROCKY over ALL THE PRESIDENT’S MEN, NETWORK, and TAXI DRIVER? KRAMER VS. KRAMER over ALL THAT JAZZ and APOCALYPSE NOW? CHARIOTS OF FIRE over REDS? TERMS OF ENDEARMENT over THE RIGHT STUFF? DANCES WITH WOLVES over GOODFELLAS? FORREST GUMP over PULP FICTION and SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION? TITANIC over LA CONFIDENTIAL… and BOOGIE NIGHTS, which wasn’t even nominated? GLADIATOR over… well, there had to be something better that year. RETURN OF THE KING over LOST IN TRANSLATION? MILLION DOLLAR BABY over SIDEWAYS or the non-nominated ETERNAL SUNSHINE?
But, I keep coming back, anyway.
Having said that, this year’s nominees were so dreary-looking that I only saw two of them – the magnificent LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE and THE DEPARTED. I wanted to see THE QUEEN, but had zero interest in BABEL (looked too much like CRASH, which I enjoyed… once) and LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA (Clint lost me with the lugubrious, dull MYSTIC RIVER – never again).
Again, this was a year where several outstanding films came out which were stung by the Academy’s short memory. You’re telling me that V FOR VENDETTA didn’t get a Best Adapted Screenplay nomination? You’re kidding me. Elitist assholes. And what about the constantly-shafted Robert Altman’s final film (and the best movie I saw, last year), A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION. Not only did it get great reviews, it was thickly layered with complexities that will keep film students pondering it for decades.
Nothing?
Nothing?
Yeah, which pretty much summed up my interest in the awards, this year.
Criswell predicts that, fifty years from now, Garrison Keillor will finally be recognized as one of the darkest and most deliciously passive-aggressive writers of our time. This film may very well reveal a lot more than people currently recognize.
So, chalk it up to another year of, well, another year.
And let it be said that I'm glad Scorsese won. Not his best film, but as Ebert noted, he hasn't made a bad one. Finally, he has his Oscar. Fair enough.
Friday, February 23, 2007
GHOST RIDER
It was a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons. If you're looking for a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons, it's a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons.
That's not quite supposed to feel as wiseacre as it reads. It's pretty damned accurate.
So, the question is if you want to see a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons. If you answer 'yes,' then you need to think very carefully about your expectations. I've heard some very peculiar cavils regarding GHOST RIDER. One was that law enforcement officials acted in unrealistic ways. Another concerned the somewhat cartoonish nature of the dialogue. Yet another questioned the ability of a man with a flaming skull to speak.
What were the expectations here? Were these people mistakenly thinking this film was a sequel to GHOST WORLD, picking up with Enid as she rides on the bus at the end?
No, this was a film based on a 1970's Marvel horror comic. It felt like it. The ads in no way mislabel the film.
So, not to reduce things, but if you crave a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons, you'll walk away happy. It's about a B-level Marvel hero, and, as such, it's a B-level movie. So be it. Unlike Lucas' prequel trilogy, it has no pretensions of being anything more than a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons.
As a fan of the comic (circa 1980), it gave me exactly what I wanted: a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons.
It was a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons. If you're looking for a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons, it's a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons.
That's not quite supposed to feel as wiseacre as it reads. It's pretty damned accurate.
So, the question is if you want to see a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons. If you answer 'yes,' then you need to think very carefully about your expectations. I've heard some very peculiar cavils regarding GHOST RIDER. One was that law enforcement officials acted in unrealistic ways. Another concerned the somewhat cartoonish nature of the dialogue. Yet another questioned the ability of a man with a flaming skull to speak.
What were the expectations here? Were these people mistakenly thinking this film was a sequel to GHOST WORLD, picking up with Enid as she rides on the bus at the end?
No, this was a film based on a 1970's Marvel horror comic. It felt like it. The ads in no way mislabel the film.
So, not to reduce things, but if you crave a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons, you'll walk away happy. It's about a B-level Marvel hero, and, as such, it's a B-level movie. So be it. Unlike Lucas' prequel trilogy, it has no pretensions of being anything more than a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons.
As a fan of the comic (circa 1980), it gave me exactly what I wanted: a movie about a guy with a flaming skull who rides a motorcycle-of-fire and kills demons.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
AVE, REAGANUS!
Many people seem to worry these days that the U. S. of A. is not only becoming an empire, but one following the Roman model. Why the nervous nellies see this as a bad thing is beyond me--the Romans were cool, with their civic virtue, comfortable daywear, orgies, sacrifices to pagan gods, and melodic British accents. So why not embrace this trend and start where the Romans would--by deifying our dead leaders, starting with the likliest candidate of the lot, Ronald Wilson Reagan.
Since Congress doesn't seem to have much else to do these days, I think they should seriously consider a measure to officially confirm Reagan as a god of our nation. The bill would contain the following:
Many people seem to worry these days that the U. S. of A. is not only becoming an empire, but one following the Roman model. Why the nervous nellies see this as a bad thing is beyond me--the Romans were cool, with their civic virtue, comfortable daywear, orgies, sacrifices to pagan gods, and melodic British accents. So why not embrace this trend and start where the Romans would--by deifying our dead leaders, starting with the likliest candidate of the lot, Ronald Wilson Reagan.Since Congress doesn't seem to have much else to do these days, I think they should seriously consider a measure to officially confirm Reagan as a god of our nation. The bill would contain the following:
- An edit of the constitution to alow for the union of church and state in all matters of Reagan's divinity. Federal funds would be earmarked for the construction of Reagan's temples and ziggurats, while Christians--who, it bears repeating, worship a foreigner--would continue to get nothing but lip service.
- A re-writing of the First Commandment to say, "You shall have no other god before me, except Reagan."
- The establishment of a priesthood to read divine portents and thus learn Reagan's will.
- Changing the Pledge of Allegiance to "One nation, under Reagan" (thereby neatly solving that thorny debate).
- A declaration of the War on Drugs as a Holy War.
- The renaming of the month of September as Reagan.
- Switching to the Reagonian calendar, with 1911 as year 0.
- The use of "Reagan!" as a standard greeting, replacing "hello!" For less formal occasions, citizens could greet each other with a friendly "Ronald," or just "Ron."
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
CAN'T BE A COINCIDENCE
Few weeks contain as many notable commemorations as the one we're in. Monday was the birthday of America's most unusual president, the endlessly examinable Abraham Lincoln. Tuesday marked an equally momentous and controversial figure's birthday; I refer of course to Henry Rollins. Wednesday is the day when moon-eyed romantics everywhere express their tenderest feelings over the beheaded corpse of St. Valentine (The day celebrates his martyrdom, not his birth). All of this winds up at one of the greatest holidays ever, the Roman festival that involved dressing in a goat carcass and flogging maidens to make them fertile, the original orgy for "furries," the day from whose implement of whipping the month takes its name, the blood-soaked carnival that the pagans did to perfection, the celebration of Lupercalia. Count 'em, four days of such incredible importance, all in a tidy row. Most weeks would kill to claim a single one of these days as their own. Feb. 11-17's got cuatro.
All this can only mean one thing--some colossal force is pulling the strings. Take out your tinfoil hats, gang, because we are not alone, or if we are alone then we're talking to ourselves and someone's answering back and it's not us.
Friday, February 02, 2007
NON-HOAX IN BEANTOWN
I am torn when I think of Boston, a city that I once (sort of) called home, a place that now wrestles with its new reputation as the most un-hip burg in America thanks to its freak-out in response to a Cartoon Network marketing ploy (why didn't San Antonio and Seattle lose their shit? Because enough residents in those places watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force to know what a Mooninite is and to recognize their use in a marketing campaign). Yes, it wasn't the smartest or most security-aware thing to put odd-looking devices in locations key to transportation (though I'm not sure where else one would put a promotion for a TV show), but how can the media call this a "hoax?" Who was trying to fool who? There was no intent, and while the initial response of the Boston police may have been appropriate, the lockdown of the city was just giving into hysteria. If you can threaten two guerilla marketers with jailtime for unintentionally fomenting hysteria, what about the news networks? They've long gone past the 'objective journalism' standard and are now 24-hour panic alarms, and well they know it. (Notice how pissy they get when the Interference Inc. guys don't play by the grim, solemn rules of the crisis mode news conference.)
I am torn when I think of Boston, a city that I once (sort of) called home, a place that now wrestles with its new reputation as the most un-hip burg in America thanks to its freak-out in response to a Cartoon Network marketing ploy (why didn't San Antonio and Seattle lose their shit? Because enough residents in those places watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force to know what a Mooninite is and to recognize their use in a marketing campaign). Yes, it wasn't the smartest or most security-aware thing to put odd-looking devices in locations key to transportation (though I'm not sure where else one would put a promotion for a TV show), but how can the media call this a "hoax?" Who was trying to fool who? There was no intent, and while the initial response of the Boston police may have been appropriate, the lockdown of the city was just giving into hysteria. If you can threaten two guerilla marketers with jailtime for unintentionally fomenting hysteria, what about the news networks? They've long gone past the 'objective journalism' standard and are now 24-hour panic alarms, and well they know it. (Notice how pissy they get when the Interference Inc. guys don't play by the grim, solemn rules of the crisis mode news conference.)
