Now you can pulverize yourself over this latest thing from the comfort of your own computer. Read Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “The Marble Faun” (either here or here) for free. Now you can see how this classic of American Lit-trit-tyoore (as Little Edie would say) inspired a Suffolk County Newsday delivery boy/gardener/man-child/invading father-figure (?)/mooch named Jerry in 1975.
A little desultory and heavy on hearsay. Still — there is something you get from actually seeing and hearing Bill O’Reilly yell “Shut Up!” that you won’t glean from another article in Mother Jones. I can’t imagine there is anyone out there who doesn’t realize Fox is fascist propaganda — but if they are out there, they should watch this film. . .a decent piece of anti-propaganda propaganda.
When you’ve seen “Grey Gardens” as many times as I have you stop laughing at the funny parts (okay, you never stop laughing at “Tea For Two”) and begin to really uncover the sadness of the story. Little Edie is so insecure — watch the way she grits her teeth or looks down at her fingernails whenever her mother talks about her. Or the way she laughs like she’s letting you in on a joke as she dances (dancing being her only true passion, along with swimming and the Catholic Church.) Every time I watch “Grey Gardens” I discover ten new things (having the subtitles on helps a lot) — this time I caught a little dig Big Edie slipped in concerning Jack Kennedy’s penchant for underage girls. But with each discovery comes new questions. Big Edie, when agitated, slips up and gets almost specific about “what happened in New York.” Was Little Edie raped? Why does she get so angry at the suggestion that her mother was “helped out” by anyone other than her absentee father? Why does Little Edie eat ice cream with a knife? It seems — it seems at times that Big Edie is so sharp, yet can’t she see what her attitude is doing to her daughter? Or is it planned? Does Big Edie resent Little Edie? Hate her? Want her to remain an emotional mess in a dilapidated house overrun by raccoons? I think I need to watch this a sixth time.
Hunter Thompson’s ashes will be shot from this, um, thing later tonight. Johnny Depp, Ralph Steadman, Bill Murray, The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and a bunch of blow-up dolls will drink til dawn. I hope someone is taking notes. Other preparatory photos, at least for now, are here.
Absolutely standard dystopian future premise, ranking somewhere beneath a Philip K. Dick short story and above an average episode of “Deep Space 9.” It doesn’t even have a look to speak of — just kinda cribs off stuff you’ve seen (better) before. Notable is the odd fight sequence at the end — kind’ve swordfighting with guns. Hard to describe, but no doubt on display in dozens of Hong Kong films I haven’t seen.
Google Moon. Be sure to move in as close-up as you can to see what’s on the surface.
A very, very, very, very funny movie. This proves that you can address low-brow issues in a film, but it does not have to be a low-brow film, ya dig? The dialogue is very clever and the performances are fantastic. The lead four guys are just hysterical. Steve Carell is ready to be the leading comedy giant in cinema for the next few years. Paul Rudd established himself as riotous in Wet Hot American Summer. And Seth Rogen was always my favorite side character on Freaks and Geeks. He basically plays the same character here. I’d never seen or heard of Romany Malco before, but he steals every scene he is in. He, too, is a guy who’ll be everywhere after this film (esp. since Dave Chapelle has disappeared.) Catherine Keener has a very difficult role here, but she pulls it off well — as does the young actress Kat Dennings who plays her very busty daughter. All told, five stars. Worth the price of admission for the Rudd/Rogen stoned Street Fighter video game sequence alone.
I don’t believe in lying on my own blog. After a full day’s work and a nice walk through Greenwich Village (including sneaking in to the old Tisch School of the Arts to use the rest room) I wound up at the Anthology Film Archives to see “Asphalt,” which looked like an interesting German Expressionist silent film. And the first fifteen minutes were terrific — great sets and camerawork. But, y’know, they’re hardcore at the Anthology. When they mean silent, they mean silent. No music track, no nothing. And when the lights were low & I’d been movin’ around nonstop all day. . . . Let’s cut to the chase: I was asleep by the top of the second reel. I feel bad for the people around me who had to listen to me snore. This is why I love DVD.
Brad Anderson’s “Session 9″ is one of the scariest movies I’ve ever seen. Period. Don’t tell Ann, but toward the end, I really wanted to turn the lights on. Frankly, I’m a little creeped out sitting here by myself at the computer right now. It’s best described as a low-fi “The Shining.” The stories are similar, but the presentation is quite different. Shot low budget on video with a no star cast (unless you consider David Caruso, who caused Ann to shout, “Hey it’s THAT guy,” a star) with a pretty straightforward shooting style — letting the performance, setting and editing define the tone. Alas, I found the very ending disappointing (although many on the imdb disagree with me) and that kinda retroactively killed some of the movie for me. But when it was rolling, I was in the moment every step of the way. Hats off to the sound designer, too.
The word (literally) on the street is that local pub Cassidy’s, on Broadway and 35th, has lined up some My-T-Fine cover bands in the coming months. In Saturdays of the future you can rock out to Unchained — the Van Halen trib, or perhaps Bleecker St. stalwarts The Soft Parade.
But I’m growin’ my dirty upper lip now for Oct. 8. That’s when Live After Death, the Ulitmate Iron Maiden Tribute Band comes to town.
Children of the DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMNED!!!!!!
As a young boy chasing dragons with your wooden sword so mighty,
You’re St. George or you’re David and you always killed the beast.
Times change very quickly,
and you had to grow up early,
A house in smoking ruins and the bodies at your feet.
CHORUS
You’ll die as you lived
In a flash of the blade,
In a corner forgotten by no one.
You lived for the touch
For the feel of the steel
One man, and his honour.
The smell of resined leather
The steely iron mask
As you cut and thrust and parried at the fencing master’s call.
He taught you all he ever knew
To fear no mortal man
and now you’ll wreak your vengeance in the
Screams of evil men.
“But don’t just feel sorry for these soldiers who, unlike their Vietnam War counterparts, volunteered, and in some cases, are living on bases in imported luxury compared to the Iraqis they are ostensibly there to defend. . . ”
Danny Schecter makes a hamburger out of one of the few sacred cows left.
I watched all 90 minutes of the Democratic debate for mayor tonight and, clearly, the person with the best ideas and most energy was Anthony Weiner. He was the only one who socked it to Bloomberg for bending over for Bush this summer.
And wouldn’t ya know, that in a race of four — he currently is polling last.
Surprisingly, though, the front runner, Fernando Ferrer, didn’t make me wince once. He spoke clearly and even cracked a few good jokes. 4 years ago he came across as a real putz, but tonight, I was impressed. Should he get the nomination, I don’t think I would have to hold my nose while voting for him.
Gifford Miller, though, seemed like a whiny kid caught in the headlights. Kinda reminded me of Tucker Carlson. He’s toast.
C. Virginia Fields, no doubt a very nice woman, would never win in a head to head with Bloomberg. He’d eat her alive. That and, let’s face it, she can’t answer a straight question.
Anyway, my vote is where it usually is — with the loser. I’m a Weinerman!
Is Netflix throttling you?
Or is it just a coincidence that your nearest Netflix receiver isn’t Flushing anymore, but Palo Alto, CA.
I haven’t the time or patience to spend too much time worrying about this, but I’m pleased to see I’m not the only one who has noticed a sharp downturn in Netflix’s quality lately (he said as he clicks “Damaged Disc Received” for what feels like the 12th time this year. . . as meanwhile ONE disc he sent out yesterday was received but a second one was not.)
Ah. . .here it is. The most morally reprehensible film I’ve ever seen. It takes a lot to offend me. And I wasn’t so much offended by the plot (a class of 9th graders dropped onto an island and forced to kill one another) as the tumultuous shifts in tone, cheesy camera moves or complete inability to construct a plot or character. Basically, as you watch this film, and one of the “talking” scenes comes up, the dialogue and acting is so bad that you start getting itchy for more killing. Luckily more killing (and violent, bloody killing!) is just a moment away. This film is, essentially, killing porn. As a member of the ACLU, it goes against my nature to call for a boycott of anything — but a psychological inquiry of the makers of this film might be in order. I can take a shocking film. Starship Troopers may even be more violent that “Battle Royale,” but it has (a) humor and (b) a point, making it, in my opinion, one of the greatest films ever made. Salò, or 120 Days of Sodom is certainly the most disturbing film I’ve ever seen, but it is artfully made, has context and tone, (probably) has a point, and even though it is “far out” there is care taken to make it make sense. (does anybody understand what happened at the end of “Battle Royale?”)
A fun but also unsettling film, tackling head-on the issue of how to be young and aware of global inequality in a world that not only doesn’t care, but openly mocks you for caring. There’s also a nice, symbolic 3-way relationship & the perspective of a villain/victim/father-figure. What’s wonderful about this film is that it deals with large issues, and even though much of it is shot in the fast-paced EXTREME! youthful style, it leaves many blanks to argue and think about. Did the kids have parents? And how to interpret the twist ending? (The internet has many theories floating about the ending — turns out there is a slight differential between European and American versions. . .leading to further theories that Capitalist America wasn’t *ready* for the European version. . .although the European version is more of the “happy” ending. . . so go figure.) Anyway, a very good movie.
I certainly expected the musical “Lennon” to blow. But since Yoko is “involved” in the project, you’d kinda expect the woman playing her to look. . .more than 1/8th Japanese? Call this Pokemon syndrome, I guess. . .
I have seen it! I always wondered when it would happen, and now I know! I have seen. . . THE MOST PRETENTIOUS MOVIE EVER MADE!!! And part of me (a small part of me, mind you) loved it. It goes like this. A still image of Jane Fonda in Hanoi (and not even the famous one of her! How’s THAT for a fuck you!) is presented on the screen and Godard and Gorin in their harshly thick Swiss and French accents talk about it! For an hour! But they don’t even really talk about anything specific! Dig: the first twenty minutes are just the vollying back and forth of “what we’re about to say is” and “what we’re about to say isn’t.” Once their intentions are made clear (although you need a PhD from Brown in Semiotics to even understand one tenth of what the hell they are talking about) some other images flash on the screen. Nixon, John Wayne. . .much like some of the link sketches on Monty Python’s Flying Circus. My take away from this barrage of sound and fury was that Godard and Gorin somehow think Jane Fonda (who’d just starred in Tout Va Bien for them) was some sort of hypocrite. Which I believe was the same arguement dudes like William F. Buckley were making at the time. Radical. Yet somehow, SOMEHOW, this movie appeals to me. After a while, I found the aural wallpaper soothing. And. . .I just have to respect anybody who takes aesthetic arguements so seriously.
