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Taped just a few blocks from where I am sitting right now, but several lifetimes ago.

This post-Watergate film about the dormant psycho-killer properties of a batch of bad LSD-25 had the potential to be a stinging indictment of generational self-immolation. Instead it looks and feels like an episode of CHiPs. And that ain’t a good thing. I know this is a cult classic but I found little to get excited about other than really cheesy performances and decked-out 70s malls.

It may not be much of a surprise to learn that, as a general rule, I am hardly a fan of any product in its “reduced fat” or “reduced sodium” or in any sort of blanket “lite” version. It is often a decent enough facsimile of the original food, strained through a “suck-in-ator” device.

All except one: Reduced Fat Cheez-Its are a far superior version of their original progenitors.

Cheez-Its, of which I have long been a fan, are, let’s face it, a little gross. That slick, slimy feel that gets on your fingertips — that awful heartburn that inevitably comes after eating too many. This is all gone with the Reduced Fat version. They are dryer, less greasy, but equally flavorful. They are better in every way.

I’m not idiot enough to think that Reduced Fat Cheez-Its are health food, but, hey, opting for this iteration is better than nothing, right? Would that all snacking products could take a page out of the RFCI book.

Lastly, I don’t know who this psychopath is, but I agree with her on her Cheez-It policy. God bless the Internets.

1/2

A little boy survives the destruction of a ship and uses Data as a coping mechanism. Centering Trek episodes on a small child is never a good idea.

Worf works out his feelings with Troi when Alexander comes to live with him. If I wanted to watch this kinda thing I’d tune in to Dr. Phil.

I like that Trek’s characters are fleshed out, but I’d rather they not be THIS fleshed out, you know?

There’s a cool B story about a new (and faulty) type of Warp Drive. Call me a geek, but I found his much more compelling than all this emotion stuff.

Unless they are lying, Lakruwana is the only authentic Sri Lankan restaurant in New York City. And their mandate is to prove that they are NOT the same as Indian food. I can’t extrapolate on the differences, but I can say that the food is tremendous.

You have to work a little to get there. It is in Staten Island, but just a few blocks from the ferry terminal. Along the way is a bar that has the craziest mural I’ve ever seen – giant, man-eating parakeets.

This was another of the on-again, off-again Strange Plates exotic eating club of which I am a charter member.

We wisely went with the “Sri Lankan specialties” which included some foods in an edible basket (a “hopper”) and something calles Deviled Seafood which was absolutely fantastic. It was spicy but not too-spicy.

Lakruwana has a beautiful interior (see the above link for images) but, as they are a Muslim restuarant, they have no liquor license and are not even BYOB. Rather than get a fatwa on our heads, we decided not to push the policy, so had our pre-dinner cocktails on the HMS. Guy V. Molinary. One of the contingent, a newcomer names Jason, has a bottle of Hungarian liqueur called Zwack.

I would describe Zwack as a slightly-less-abraisive Jagermeister but perhaps more potent. I did, indeed, have a headache this morning.

If I wanted to I could start ranting about the socio-political implications of this film from a race, gender or foreign policy context. But if I didn’t do it last night, after a midnight screening in the East Village, then I’m certainly not going to do so here. Ann was the only one who didn’t doze off once.

Who doesn’t like a movie about killer birds? Not just any killer birds, but killer birds infected with mad cow disease? And not just any mad cow disease, but special English-hating AMISH mad cow disease. Ooops, I just gave away the ending. I’m sure you’ll forgive. Ann and I watched this last night and had a good time. She screamed from fear three times! One of the more amusing casting decisions is the inclusion of Rod Taylor from The Birds. He’s obviously the go-to guy for movies about killer birds.

The behind the scenes featurette was, all kidding aside, really cool. Turns out ravens are as trainable as dogs — and huge! Watching them zip around the camera with their trainers on the periphery is really pretty cool.

When Joe Carnahan made Blood, Guts, Bulletts and Octane ten years ago I was a big fan. In fact, I was the first person ever to do an in-depth online interview with him. Tastes change? Or maybe this movie just ain’t any good? I don’t know. All I know is that watching this movie was like having poke under my fingernails with a toothpick. It actually made my eyes ache (I cannot stand that washed-out, desaturated look.) I did laugh once or twice, yes, but I also kept waiting for the story to start. A while in I realized that this was to be a violent version of It’s A Mad Mad Mad Mad World. That’s probably how the movie was pitched. And you know what? That woulda been cool. This movie, however, is not.

I rented it, of course, because Chris Pine has a small role. As mentioned elsewhere on the blog I am trying to determine if Chris Pine is Kirk-worthy. Here he plays a psychotic Neo-Nazi killer. He doesn’t do much acting, mostly prancing, frankly, but he has one unique moment wherein he makes something of a marionette doll out of Ben Affleck’s corpse. It is a good scene and Pine evokes some good funny/scary. Not very Kirk-like, but a good scene. It gives me more hope than his turn in Just My Luck.

You might be saying to yourself, “Gee, this isn’t the type of movie Jordan normally watches.” And you’d be right. The fact of the matter is that despite hearing that Mean Girls is really good and even with my admiration for Robert Altman and Garrison Kellior, I had never seen a Lindsay Lohan movie. In fact, given my inability to be in the same room with a TV that has “Access Hollywood” on, I don’t think I’d ever heard her voice before.

But it wasn’t because of LiLo that I rented this. Astute readers know why. Yes, it was because it stars Chris Pine. And this is the beginning of my Chris Pine film festival. Who the F#$% is Chris Pine? Exactly. Chris Pine has been tapped to play Captain Kirk in the new Star Trek movie and I need to know if he is Enterprise-worthy. Is he?

Well, basing on this film, no. In it, he plays a shlemeil (and not a very funny one) and when his luck turns around he plays a happy wide-eyed kid in the Gary Burghoff mold. Very disappointing.

The movie itself is fine enough fare for 14 year old girls. Lots of costume changes, large NYC apartments, product placement up the ying-yang, and the overall message that happiness and monetary success are absolutely linked hand-in-hand. A real product of the Wal-Mart generation: script is 100% predictable and yet there is a mild satisfaction in going through the motions. Everything is on the up-and-up and it deserves its “Gentleman’s C.”

Please say hello to Olivia Aldrin Rozger and Phoebe Beckett Rozger. As the one responsible for the meeting of Jason and Melissa, I anticipate a full ten percent of their gross as this pair of tall blonde girls commences to make a fortune – first in cereal commercials, then a bit part in a remake of The Shining, then, eventually, wacky romantic comedies aimed at Tweens.

James Mangold has made a straight up white hat/black hat Western and there’s nothing in the world wrong with that. Hard to buy the ending a little but, hey, that’s Hollywood — though second time this year for Christian Bale and good movies with lame endings. And I feel like there was a missed opportunity here and there for some added visual oomph — but not everything can be a masterpiece. Still, why all the negativity? This is a solid Western and that’s a damned good thing. I also hereby consider myself a Ben Foster fan.

You can troll the internets for the slightly longer version with some clipped jokes, or you can just catch this on Adult Swim as I did.

Very, very entertaining. I particularly liked when Redd Foxx showed up and delivered on an “I’m comin’ Elizabeth!” moment. The Dr. Who jokes tickled me as well. And — while I’m at it — why in the world *didn’t* the Imperial Forces know about the Death Star’s big design flaw? They didn’t have a spare piece of wood to put over that hole?

Not an uplifting film. This was among the first Bergman films I’d ever seen and it is still a remarkable piece of work. Two sisters and a faithful maid slowly watch a third sister die, then think about some of the troubling moments from their lives. Then… oh, who am I kidding… I can’t synopsize this film. Any attempt to do it makes it sound like nothing happens or the movie is just crazy. I will say this, though, whether or not the movie takes place in old time Sweeden or on another planet is a perfectly valid discussion. The surreal atmosphere and otherwordly tone (and look) is a good percentage of what makes this movie so effective.

Let’s talk about the look. The above photo does no justice. The Critereon’s print is marvelous. As a young turk I used to only get jazzed about cinematography when the movie was a filled with fiesty tracking shots, or action set pieces or natural locations. While this still speaks to me I’ve lately been taking pleasure in elegent interior lighting setups. This is one of Sven Nykvist’s masterworks – certainly his best work in color. The White Stripes owe everything to this movie.

Before anything else, hats off for making a really scary movie where there’s almost nothing scary going on. There’s no creepy music, no creaky doors — but a mood of dread where you know some shit is gonna’ go down you just don’t know how or when.

(spoiler alert)
But I don’t know if I buy the whole movie. Not just the “NO ONE is sending the tapes” Twilight Zone ending — I kinda expected that and, frankly, I’ve got no beef with it. I guess I just think that if this movie is to be an indictment of guilty people. . .our lead character didn’t do anything that bad. He didn’t kill anyone. And he was six years old, for Pete’s sake! And, if anyone is going to be sympathetic to the plight of the Algerians in France, it is going to be a bookish intellectual. You get the impression he came from a leftist home — the parents almost adopted the Algerian boy, right? It isn’t like he comes from a long line of, I dunno, shipping magnates who made their fortune off of slave labor. Unless… is this the point? Is the point of the movie that guilt permeates the soul of even those who aren’t guilty of anything? Oooh, Twilight Zone ending indeed.

If the above screen grab doesn’t instill a deep, rich urge to run out and see this movie immidiately, it may not be for you. But if it is for you (and we’re out there, ’cause I know some of you by name) you will drool in ecstacy during every moment of this film. “Let’s watch young French people scream about Marxism!” I said as we walked to Film Forum. And the second the movie started that’s exactly what happened. Filled in with little vignettes, crazy editing, tracking shots, direct address, mock-interview, fluctuating sound track — this is Godard at his absolute best. Raoul Coutard’s photography of the summer flat turned revolutionary cell is iconographic. The film not only predicted the events of May 1968, but predicted the haughty media reaction. Godard’s P.O.V. is ambiguious, but the film is marvelous. Funny, peppy, beautiful — loaded with wonderful moments hidden behind “the text” of Jean-Pierre Leaud and les autres basically sitting there and reading the Little Red Book aloud for moments on end. Any movie with a shimmy-and-froog dance routine to the hep number “Mao Mao” can’t be anything other than awesome.

Here’s J. Hoberman’s review and here’s Mao Mao (warning, this song is very catchy.)

Last Friday Ann and I joined the New York Philharmonic for the “Inside the Music” on the Symphony #6 as part of the continuing P. I. T. festival, featuring video, slides, recited letters, a quite fascinating lecture and, you know, the symphony.

As I predicted, everyone broke into applause after the third movement thinking it was the end.

Ann’s head was spinning from all the characters that Lincoln Center on a Friday night brings in. Next time, we’ll have to bring a spy camera.

A summit of some of my favorite New Yorkers: The Levys took their Panorama Challenge to the Brian Lehrer Show.

The MP3 is available below. It’s awesome.