Week 52: The Big Lebowski

Dear Avid Reader,

Oh movie blog, I knew him well Horatio. As Aristotle said, "The End Of Labor Is To Gain Leisure". And so I guess I now gain some leisure.

Or whatever.

Hey Careful Man, There's A Beverage Here

I have tried for a week to write this final blog entry. I'm not sure what is causing the writer's block. Maybe it's something to do with the fact that I think this essay has to be better than the others. Or that there needs to be closure. I'm not sure, but I do know that I have started this like three times already and I am determined to finish on this one.

And I find it fitting that the final blog entry is about a movie that has kind of an interesting ending for me: all the characters end up where they started. Well, Donny is dead and Maude is pregnant, but everyone else returns to their earlier situations. The Dude is a penniless bum, Treehorn doesn't have his money, Bunny and Lebowski are still together, and nobody fucks with the Jesus. In fact, sometimes I just skip the final monologue and start watching something else. For me, the movie ends on "The Dude Abides". And I abide in that.

So What Are You Telling Me, When You Get Divorced, You Turn In Your Library Card, You Get A New License, You Stop Being Jewish?

But perhaps the fact that I haven't been able to get a head of steam is that I've really been looking forward to this flick. I've been planning for this to be the last movie since January. I guess I have built up what this essay would to me personally be too much. This is a theme for me, because I like endings. They are convenient when trying to assess how something (or myself) is doing. Once something finishes, a true analysis can begin. That's probably why older bands can be better than newer bands. The whole story can be examined. Or whatever.

But even though I like endings, it's hard for me to decide on what this ending should be. This is because the other reason I like endings is because I get bored. If the thing would just end, I could check it off in my mind and then move on to the next thing. I like processing culture. It feels good. But this restlessness means that my mind encounters static as I try and write. I wish I could write effective onomatopoeia right now. Zzzzzrrshhhzzrrshh, is lacking somehow.

I'm Not Messing With Your Special Lady

Let's take it from this tack. The Big Lebowski kind of encapsulates what I like in art. On the surface, it's a comedy, with wacky characters and snappy dialogue. And the movie can be enjoyed on that level, but there are things happening all around that add depth. First, the whole thing is an homage to film noir and the film has inside jokes for fans of the form. It also has beautiful dream sequences that are surreal and fascinating. The characters are real and meaty and the interplay between them is superb.

And there are truly dark parts of the film. The fight outside the bowling alley for one is comical, but very violent. Walter's rage is palpable. And the sheriff of Malibu is truly menacing. But my favorite part of the darker side is The Dude's powerlessness. It is a film noir convention that the antagonist is lost in world of shadowy forces, but to work that into what is essentially a comedy is amazing. Lot of ins, a lot of outs in this movie.

He Fixes The Cable?

Why my wife doesn't like this movie is beyond me. Maybe it's a gender thing. Whereas Dirty Dancing is the feminine side of awesome, The Big Lebowski is the masculine side. But what is universal is the appreciation for complexity, for subtlety. It's why people like wine. It's why I like punk music, and They Might Be Giants. There is something on the surface, and something, maybe something that is an opposite, laid underneath. It's harmony. It's balance.

It's an ending. But it could also be a beginning.

Until Next I Blog,

James

The List of Movies

Find your favorite!

-A-
Airplane

-B-
Back to the Future
Batman
The Big Lebowski
Big Trouble in Little China
Bill & Ted's Excellent Journey
Birdemic: Shock and Terror
Boyz N The Hood

-C-
Caddyshack
Clue
The Cowboys

-D-
Dirty Dancing
Donnie Darko

-E-
Enter the Dragon

-F-
Ferris Bueller's Day Off

-G-
Ghostbusters
The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly
Goonies
Grease
Groundhog Day

-H-
Halloween
Heat

-K-
The Karate Kid
Kicking and Screaming

-L-
The Longest Yard
Lost Boys

-M-
Monty Python and The Holy Grail

-N-
Napoleon Dynamite

-O-
Office Space

-P-
Pee Wee's Big Adventure
The Princess Bride

-R-
Red Dawn
Repo! The Genetic Opera
Road House
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
The Room
The Royal Tennenbaums
Rudy

-S-
The Sandlot
Scarface
Sleepless in Seattle

-T-
Terminator 2: Judgment Day
TiMER
Tombstone
Top Gun
Troll 2

-U-
UHF

-W-
Waiting for Guffman
The Warriors
Willow
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

-Y-
Young Frankenstein

Week 51: Kicking & Screaming

Dear Avid Reader,

This is not the 2005 Will Farrell soccer movie. This is the 1995 movie directed by Noah Baumbach.

Don't go flipping the script or putting salt in my game.

You Aim For The Stars, You Hit The Roof

In the documentary "The Outsider", Roger Ebert describes film directors operating between two pendulum points: pandering, and narcissism. To be accurate he states that if a director isn't "self-indulgent" then he becomes a "caterer" to the audience. Ebert goes on to list great directors Bergman and Fellini as examples of film-making greatness that came out of so-called artistic self-indulgence.

When I heard Ebert say this, I was blown away. It really described a negative extreme that I had been trying to describe. While it's easy to describe an artist that is making art solely for money as a sell-out, or artistically bankrupt, or a hack, it was harder to describe how the other side of the coin could also be bad. Self-indulgent, narcissistic, and insular were added to my thesis. Now both the populist and the distinguished artists had their weaknesses, or at least they did in my mind. This is important because I have always wanted to be a snobbish, elite artist and now I knew what I was getting into.

And this is why I have chosen Kicking and Screaming as this week's movie.

You Know What I Mean, We All Know What We Mean

I would assume that few of my readers have watched this film. I believe that few people in general have seen it. But this movie is freaking great. In many ways it reflects a great deal of my personality. The dry, too-smart-for-itself dialogue. The intellectual elevation of typically low culture. Like when they wait to leave the house and watch a detergent commercial to see  if the stain comes out. Or how movies where monkeys have prominent roles are treated with the same level of excitement as European capitals. I love it.

And then there's the cool detachment of the characters that is equally their greatest strength and most appalling weakness. Especially with Max. Max can adroitly deflate Friedrich's fake compassion at the bar, but he also has a knee-jerk reaction of doom to Kate's birthday. I imagine it is Max the one bankrolling Grover's existence by letting him live at the house rent free, after all it's his parent's money. Why make Grover earn a living when he doesn't. But he reacts so coldly when Skippy ends their friendship. It's a quality that I admire and also fear. It's also something I would have been envious of in college.

And the ending is so spot on. I discussed in my Dirty Dancing post how I felt that the ending of that film was not true to the characters or the times. But this film ends so beautifully. The audience knows Grover will never make it to Prague, that he and Jane will never be together. It's just how they ended up. And how they end on a flashback, making the airport scene all the more bittersweet. I feel every break-up in that moment.

Damn I love this movie.

Racism Spans From Here To The Dancefloor

But the most thrilling thing about the movie is how it deals with nostalgia. Now, I have already covered memory in my Monty Python and The Holy Grail post, but nostalgia is somehow different. I guess I see it as remembering in order to re-experience the emotional color of the moment. And usually the feeling is a hurt, a pang. And why folks want to feel pain on purpose is a mystery. It's like pushing a sore tooth with your tongue. You just can't help yourself.

And Max explains the phenomenon so well in the bar. The act of hyper-reminiscing conversations that happened hours ago. Or even making a decision based on how the outcome will be remembered. I've never had a character in a movie so accurately describe something that I thought only I did. In fact, I wasn't even aware I had been doing it until Max articulated it.

Double damn, I love this movie.

Don't Upset Him Because He'd Already Rather Be Bow Hunting

I think nostalgia is something that my peers and I encounter in a very strange way. I have grown up in the shadow of the Baby Boom generation. And as I came of age, I was surrounded by media that was geared toward helping Boomers philosophize about their own childhood. I was a kid when Wonder Years was on the air. So I was a kid watching a show intended to have adults reflect on being a kid. I felt as though this has given my generation sharper nostalgia reflex. For example, I used to pour over my elementary year books in middle school, and my middle school year books in high school. Before I could drive I was already concerned that "it was all slipping away". In a sense, I was pushing at my baby teeth with my tongue.

In so many ways this movie feels like it was made specifically for me and only me. And I guess that is why I think it's so great and why everyone else thinks it's mediocre.  I feel the same way about the album Laughing Gallery by Ruth Ruth. It's a thing that only I truly understand. That's why it's awesome. At least it's how I will remember it.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 50: The Karate Kid

Dear Avid Reader,

The heat in Texas is ridiculous. I blame the wealth gap in this country.

And the sun of course.

Nothing Exist In Whole World, Only Tree

Here are few things I noticed on this watching of Karate Kid. First, the kid who initially kicks Daniel in the knee has a interesting name. He is referred to as Bobby in one scene and Mr. Brown at the Cobra Kai dojo. That mean his name is Bobby Brown. I guess that's his prerogative. Yes!

Here are some other name things I noticed. And Ali's name is spelled Ali. Like the boxer. Does her uptight father know about this? And why does everyone mispronounce Mr. Myagi's name. The correct pronunciation seems so obvious. I'm not sure why I noticed these things before. Perhaps my name should be MUD. Yes!

Look Eye, Always Look Eye

Another thing that hit me is how crazily the America of today would have reacted to the events of Karate Kid. Like how the Cobra Kai hooligans would have been rounded up and thrown in jail following the first incident on the beach. And why is no one wearing pads at the karate tournament? Overprotective mom would have filed a lawsuit on the organizers milliseconds after the first foot landed on her precious angel's face. Count on it.

But the most blatant example of how much our country has changed in thirty years involves Mr. Myagi. Because if it this movie happened today, there is no way he is allowed to walk the streets after punching and kicking high-schoolers. No one would have cared if he was defending Daniel. No one. The media storm alone would have at least forced him to move back to Okinawa. But most likely he's in jail and on a sex offender list. Count on that twice.

Not Everything Is As Seem

Now before moving on, we must discuss the montages. This movie has two of the greatest montages. And while the mini-golf-date montage is good, a better one is less heralded than all of the others: the Daniel training montage. When he is on the boat alone and trying to learn the crane kick. It's so quiet and small, which underscores the plucky determination of Daniel. We get to look on as he slowly overcomes his fears and begins to embrace his own existence. This montage is where Daniel finally becomes a man.

But of course the greatest montage is the one set to Joe Esposito' immortal "You're The Best". This montage has no equal. It is epic, and breathtaking. It may very well be the finest movie-making and scoring in the history of film. No, it is. Hands down. I will not argue about this.

No Such Thing Bad Student, Only Bad Teacher

These funny things aside I noticed something much more important. This movie is really more about adults than it is the kids. Or maybe it is all to do with the kids and how little the adults actually change the children in their lives. Either way it makes for a very nuanced dynamic. I'll try and explain.

Let's look at the adults first. Mrs. Larusso is well-meaning but ultimately self-centered. I mean, she puts her career over the very safety of her son. What mother lets her son continue at a high-school where he is continually bullied? And finding out that he has started lying about it (the sunglasses scene) means that the situation is really impacting this kid a very dangerous way. Moving on to Mr. Myagi, we find a very nice man, but still a man that is closed off emotionally and establishes early on that he no qualms about beating children into submission. Ali's parents are textbook examples of classist, wealthy, racist snobs. And sensei John Kreese is clearly a madman. The most egregious example is his threat of ordering his students to pummel both Daniel and Mr. Myagi. It's so menacing. It freaks me out every time. Seriously.

You Trust Quality What You Know, Not Quantity

Now on to the kids. Daniel and Ali are clearly nice kids. And Ali's friends seem like very nice and well-meaning. But look further to Lawrence and Bobby. The typical menu would feature one-dimensional, "rich kid" a-holes. Some easy villains for the audience to turn into punching bags like so much rehashed commedia dell'arte. But the character Bobby is not so easy to to set-up and knock down. He is truly appalled that he is asked to put Daniel "out-of-commission". And it's no suprise to the audience because he has been asking his fellow bullies to show mercy to their victim, especially when off the field of competition.

Now Bobby is clearly no-holds-barred when it comes to sports. He tackles Daniel on the soccer field and is a ferocious sparring partner at the dojo. You can see that he has found a way to achieve balance with his aggressive nature and can channel it into athletics. Bobby is a fully realized character. And it's why the knee-kick is so devastating on-screen. Because if Bobby is against it, the viewer knows it's bad. Bobby has too much respect for the game.

You Karate "Guess So", Squish Just Like Grape

These conflicted beliefs are not seen in a character like Dutch. He is your typical violent bully. he has no mercy. Adrenaline is constantly coursing in his body. Everyone has seen a Dutch. And I think everyone has seen a John Lawrence. An individual of great potential and ambition twisted by an awful mentor adept at exploiting a desire to please. He has become a casualty of war of wealthy conformity. He has earned well what happens to people who dabble with the lower classes. Maybe his fighting with Daniel is a form of protecting Ali using the only tools the adults have taught him: violence and disgust.

But John's gentler nature, perhaps his true nature, peeks through at the finale of the movie. The line, "You're alright Larusso. Good match," reveals that Daniel is finally accepted as an equal. Allowing Daniel to have worth destroys the world of cruelty and suppression that has been constructed for the bullies.

While John and Bobby show signs of repentance, I beleive Tommy and Dutch will never accept Daniel. Perhaps they too are from poorer families and believe ostracizing Daniel ensures that there is always a class below them. Scorn, they have observed, is a quality that all wealthy families cherish. And wealth is what they are truly after. And while they harden, it is beautiful to watch John and Bobby come out of the shadow of the classism of their elders. Because, Bobby and John are victims themselves of bullies that are much more powerful than a groups of kids that dress exactly alike on Halloween. especially since a bunch of dudes dressing the same on Halloween is totally lame.
Man Who Catch Fly With Chopstick, Can Accomplish Anything

Karate Kid is always lumped in with other coming-of-age movies from the 1980s. but I think the delicate beauty of the film. The heroes are flawed. Daniel is far to emotional, and impetuous. He picks the fight at the high-school dance, hardly a virtuous act. Mr Myagi is stubborn and deeply troubled. the emotional scars of his wife's death still haunt him. And he baits Daniel by calling his punches "girl" like. He also attempts to diminish Daniel's triumph of capturing a fly with chopsticks. Remarking that it is "beginner's luck", clearly an attempt to heal a fragile ego

And the villains, as I have already covered, are not villainous all the time. They are conflicted by the opposing forces of their own gentles natures against their families desires for success at all costs. I mean, the first group of friends that Daniel makes are far more cold and cruel than the Cobra Kai. I mean they kick the kid out for getting beat up by the worst bullies around. What a bunch of d-bags.

Don't allow the action of this movie confuse the facts. This is a fragile and delicate film about the journey from boy to man. And it should be regarded as a great film by any standard. Just because it includes some fighting and a date montage at a mini-golf park should not eradicate the importance of this film.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 49: Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Dear Avid Reader,

Another Stock Market Crash in three years. This cycle of boom-bust-boom happened all the time before regulation in the 1930s.

Guess deregulation wasn't such a hot idea.

I Have To Push The Pram A Lot

Memory is a weird duck. But I guess it's the thing that determines a lot of my personality. I mean, it's how a know how to do stuff. Like I know to close closet doors because I saw a monster in one once when I was six. If I didn't remember that happening, I'd probably have been eaten by now.

But memory is a fickle gypsy. Again, I look to my own situation as a typical case. I remember, with the clarity of the ancients, an argument that I had with my college roommate about dorm chores some ten years ago. But when I began rewatching Breaking Bad Season Two, I had forgotten, with the voracity of a pit fighter, entire plot points that I had seen only months ago. The entire existence of Jesse's girlfriend was gone to me.

And it was the same with Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

It's Just Like Those Miserable Psalms, Always So Depressing

Readers of my blog will already be familiar with my strange middle school friends, and how we memorized Rocky Horror Picture Show and Monty Python during our lunches. But for the blog neophytes, suffice to say that because of a twelve-year-old theatre fanatic, my middle school chums and I memorized scripts of all kinds with a unique ferocity usually reserved for medical students before anatomy exams. In fact, I think I had memorized quite a few scripts before I ever actually saw a single episode of Flying Circus. So I was more than familiar with the Monty Python style before I ever saw Holy Grail via our talent show, award-winning troupe. Own horn tooting is now complete.

But even though I had spent all that time with the material, I found that I had disremembered several key scenes. Some of the lyrics to Sir Robin's minstrel song slipped my mind. The "Castle of Ahhhhuugggghhh" bit was not included in my recollections. But most troubling of all was the entire Bridgekeeper Questions scene was flat gone from my memory. This was an oft quoted scene in my childhood. We used to scream, "Blue...no Yell-ahhhhhhhhhhhh" across classrooms daily for a few weeks. And yes, we were very cool and good with the ladies. No more questions.

It's Just A Flesh Wound

But the peculiarities didn't end there. As I watched, I began to realize that my friend's performances of the lines had replaced several of the original performances in my mind. Like Micheal Johnson's stunning recitation of the Holy Hand grenade of Anticoh monologue, in a junior high cafeteria. Michael Ostrokol reciting the line "Well, she turned me into a newt" in a high-school Bible class even though I'm not sure he ever said that line to me. It's very hazy and ghostly. But I think he did. Didn't he?

Memories began to swell and disintegrate. The center began to fluctuate. The movie began to spn inside my head. Did I hear an audio tape of this movie before I saw it? Michael was the biggest fan among us and could only afford cassettes on his allowance. It was how we were able to run lines so effectively for those talent shows. Or maybe I didn't see it until my mom began dating Gary, who owned a video store, and my access to flicks exploded. But I think I saw it before I saw any flying Circuses. Or did I?

See...THIS is exactly what I'm talking about.

Go And Boil Your Bottoms, You Sons Of A Silly Person

Forgetting things is scary. To me it feels like I'm turning to mist all the time. And forgetting takes all the initiative out of doing things here in the present. After all, why bother doing anything cool when I'm just going to forget it later. I'm depressing myself.

Maybe I'm just bad at dealing with the reality of memory. Maybe I just hate it more than anyone. Of course no one else feels as strongly as me about forgetting because I am the only one who fully understands the problem.I am the only one paralysed by the truth.

But I'm sure it will pass. Even the knowledge of this shocking reality that I dwell in, will fade in time. If I just wait long enough. The problem itself becomes the only solution. Just wait for it.























It's closer.

















Fading, and fading.






















Closer still.













Almost there.

















It's gone.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 48: Grease

Dear Avid Reader,

Debt crisis averted. Until November. Seriously, we need to tax the rich and large corporations. They are enriched by the work of EVERYONE in the country. I'm cool with there being rich and poor people, but there is such a thing as gross wealth inequity and we need to address it.

Rant over.

If You Can't Be In Athlete, Be An Athletic Supporter

Censorship is a weird, but totally understandable. No where else in the natural world do creature stop themselves from doing something. If it occurs to a dog to run, they run. A monkey might realize it's great idea to throw a branch, and nothing stops him from doing so. There is no civilization in the animal world. well, there actually is some socialization amongst animals. Insects especially have the capacity to set aside immediate individual needs for the desires of the whole. Where was I going with this?

I guess more accurately animals show no signs of shame. Animals are violent to each other in front of there young. They also have sex in front of each other. But humans don't do this. There exists a fear of damaging a child psychologically. And this is why censorship is totally understandable, because humans are right about the potential for damage. Animals lack the ability to understand complexity and therefore have no way to grasp the subtle power dynamics of their situations. They can never develop an Oedipus Complex. This is what truly separates man from the lower forms, the ability to drive one's self mad.

I'm Gonna Get My Kicks, While I'm Still Young Enough To Get 'Em

Obviously the mental health of children is a real concern, and content exists that could imperil the youngster. This is the understandable part of censorship. The weird part comes in when the line is being drawn. Taste, it would seem, is a very devious enemy in the battle of expression versus the welfare of minors. This is because it usually side with the majority. Taste can be a real d-bag that way.

Sometimes America thinks it's way of doing things is totally right. Actually America does this all the time. And the way America sees it, at least when it comes to movies/TV, violence is OK, genitals and female nipples are not OK, and you should never say the word "fuck" unless it's only adults. These are the ground rules. But there are gray areas, like the word "bitch" or "ass", and what movements are allowed when trying to indicate sex is happening. Because everyone is different, this grey area is always moving, expanding, and contracting. It has led to a polarization of views and, like the political discourse, allows for only those on the extremes to be heard. Sad really.

The frustrating thing for me is not the fact that important discussions of art are reduced to body parts and dirty words. It is the stupidity of how some people behave. More liberal supporters end up defending the most disgusting and vile things in the name of freedom. And more conservative folks set up defenses along lines that are way too restrictive for fear of a slippery slope. And of course there is hypocrisy. An excellent example of this is the movie/musical Grease.

No Use Crying Over Spilled Milkshake

I love Grease. It's a great movie. But I'm sure something strikes every person who watches this movie first when they are kids and then when they are older. That something is that the main plot is about how a nice girl decides to jettison her beliefs to become more promiscuous in order to please a man and, to a lesser extent, her peers. Isn't this the exact thing that most conservative parents teach their daughter NOT to do? I'm being serious here.

I'll let you in on a secret: folks in the theater think Grease is a hilarious joke. This is because every high-school in this country loves to put this play on but always balk whenever it comes time to pick other material that they deem controversial. How can this happen when Grease so packed to the gills with sex? Is it really all that much better than say Avenue Q? And why give a free pass on Hamlet? You got like five on-stage deaths. How did Grease slip through the cracks? Is it the music? The era? is it because the Baby Boomers watched it as they came of age and now they give it a free pass? How did this happen?

Like A Beautiful Blond Pineapple

Of course this is an example of conservative hypocrisy. I don't have an example of liberal hypocrisy because this movie this week is Grease. That and because I lean to the left politically.

If you don't like that you can start your own blog. Writing is the second thing that separates us from the lower forms.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 47: The Princess Bride

Dear Avid Reader,

I've been reading my past blog posts. They are really good.

Have I introduced a blog like this before?

We Are Men Of Action, Lies Do Not Become Us

There is only one bad thing about this flick. At the end, Wesley, Inigo, and Buttercup hear Fezzik's voice outside a window. They all look and see that Fezzik has stolen four horses for all of them to ride off on. All of them seem happy, but then Inigo says something. He says, "Fezzik, you did something right." Like he's surprised or something. What the hell Mantoya? Everyone reading this, excuse me for a moment.

Look Spaniard, Fezzik may not have a sexy fight scene or a cool threatening monologue, but dude has been getting shit done since the get-go. First off, he nursed your idiot ass back to health and told you where to find Count Rugen. Haven't you been searching your whole life for him? And wasn't it Fezzik that knocked down that locked door so you could pursue the guy who killed your dad? Yeah, I thought so. And would you have even get into the castle if he didn't snag that cloak from Miracle Max? And you're gonna sandbag him now like he hasn't be an integral part of this little strike force? Seriously?

You did something right. As if! You are a dick, sir.

I Am Not Left-Handed

There is a terrible movie from my childhood that I memorized called Big Trouble in Little China. And I have covered this movie in blog form already. But Princess Bride is a movie that EVERYONE has memorized. And I mean EVERYONE. At least if they are around my age. Now Bride is a fun movie with just the right amounts of action, love, and comedy. It's also smart, in a kind of sarcastic, winking way. But more than that, all of the dialogue is sophisticated, especially for what is essentially a family/kid movie. I mean another movie would call Rodents of Unusual Size dog-rats.

But the eighties and nineties had a lot of children's programming with adult sensibilities. Look no further than Animaniacs for an Exhibit A. And that kind of kids-but-with-an-edge entertainment was very welcome and popular. So that fact that this movie was able to be a hit with so many of my generation is no surprise. The fact that it was able to be seen in more conservative homes also helped the size of the audience. I guess just one "Jesus" and one "bitch" per movie is acceptable to parents.

Never Go Against A Sicilian When Death Is On The Line

Having a movie that is loved deeply by so many other people, while at the same time is loved deeply by me, creates a weird dynamic. Bride is the kind of movie that I normally would classify a nerdy movie. It's got magic, giants, and fire swamps. All of the things my D&D character might encounter. But I guess because the fantasy aspect is so light, folks that aren't in love with the genre can enjoy as well. But it's still a fantasy movie right? Or is it?

And this is where my complicated feelings with the movie begin. I keep wondering why all of these people know about this typically niche movie. And so when I think about the movie, I think about the specific settings I've watched it in. Like in my college's auditorium, or on the bootleg VHS copy that my brother's friend Bobby gave us. It's the only movie where I always remember the context of the film first, before the movie itself. Weird right?

What Hideous Sin Have You Committed Lately

This whole dynamic makes for a strange feeling. Because I'm into the film hardcore (like with my other nerdish pursuits), I am always surprised it has such wide appeal, and my fellow devotees are just as hardcore as me. It throws off my game. It's like I don't ever think about the movie itself, only it's implication, only it's effect on me on and others. And when I watch it, it kind of takes on this grey pallor. Like I'm seeing it through a fog. I wonder if I even like to movie, or can even enjoy it. I have the memory of enjoying it, but watching it now, the fun of the movie seems elusive. It's as slippery as a Shrieking Eel.

Have I just grown up? That may be the case. But I worry that this distance I'm feeling is because I have just watched it too many times. And that truly terrifies me. Because if this can happen to one movie that I really like, what about the other movies I like? What about albums? How much time do I have with them? Will I run out of stuff to enjoy? Can artist keep up with the ebbing away of the excitement with new works? Should I start rationing now?

Hello, My Name Is Inigo Montoya

I guess this serves as the first sign of the disease of boredom and I should start making plans for treatments and lifestyle changes. Maybe I'll give alternative medicines like Jazz and foreign films a try.

Dang I love this project. Isn't this fun? This blogging?

It is for me. And bonus...I just spelled "rationing" right on the first try. Pretty awesome.

Until Next I Blog,
James

Week 46: Willow

Dear Avid Reader,

I just realized that this blog represents all the time I've spent watching movies while others in the world struggle to eat.

The unfairness of the world is staggering.

Ignore The Bird, Follow The River

Not enough credit is given to things that are solid. Sure things that are superior are given their due, and rightly so, but what about things that are simply well done. To me, the gap between good and bad is vast, but the line between good and great is slight. I would venture to say that a masterwork only crosses over because of luck. Just ask Malcolm Gladwell.

Now I'm not trying to take anything away from great things. The Beatles, The Godfather Movies, and other stuff deserve their accolades. I just want the works that are really solid to get some love too. And solid is a great definition for the movie Willow.

All You Did Was Hang Around And Eat Our Eggs

Willow has a lot of things. It has action, magic, and truly hilarious dialogue from the Brownies and Madmartigan. And all of the actors are freaking bringing their A-game. Minor characters like Vonkhar add a cool dimension to the world through the strength of the performances. Just look at Arik's death. Even though he only has like three conversations in the whole flick, his death has meaning. THAT'S solid.

But the most important part I feel is the relationship between Willow and his wife Kiaya. For me it's the most important part of the movie. It underpins everything. Willow's journey would be meaningless without the pang of the separation from his true love. And when they reunite at the end, it always gets a little dusty in the room. This movie RULES!

Out Of The Way...PECK

I don't think there is a person alive that hates this movie. If someone watches this movie, they like it. End of story. And I don't mean tolerate it, I'm talking they will find themselves recalling the movie during the course of their lives. I mean the kind of liking that quotes lines. That's the hardcore "like" I'm referring to!

To me Willow is that pair of sunglasses in the car's console, always ready for when the designers ones are forgotten in the house. It's that flashlight that never seems to need batteries, the "good" scissors in the junk drawer.

But why don't movies like this ever seem to break-out from the pack of memory? Once again, I believe the answer is luck.

I Don't Love Her, She Kicked Me In The Face

In 1988, Willow was released along with a class of very high-quality movies. I will list the other 1988 flicks here: Beaches, Big, Beetlejuice, Bloodsport, Bright Lights-Big City, Bull Durham, Child's Play, Cinema Paradiso, Cocktail, Cocoon, Coming To America, Die Hard, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, A Fish Called Wanda, The Great Outdoors, Hairspray, I'm Gonna Git You Sucka, Midnight Run, Oliver & Company, Punchline, Rain Man, Scrooged, Talk Radio, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Young Guns.

Now these may not all be classic films, but they are at least all very solid movies. They all are worth a watch. And counting Willow, that's 27 flicks. That's one every two weeks. I submit that it is hard to rise above in such a crowded movie year. This is especially true when there are so few stand-out flicks and a bunch of solid ones.

Give Me A Sword, I'll Win This War For You

I wonder a lot about cycles. I wonder if life closely resembles the seasons in that all things have a time to birth, flourish, harvest, and die. Do human works follow this rhythm? Do movies have bad years, and good years? Do they ebb and flow? Wax and wane?

Maybe it's too simplistic to think that way. But I think there is something to it. There are times of prosperity and want. Nothing can be done about it. We are all subject to the natural order of the seasons. No escape.

Nope. It didn't work. I wrote this whole essay and I still feel guilty about being richer than the world.

I guess I prefer it that way. Solid.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 45: Sleepless In Seattle

Dear Avid Reader,

Politics seems so simple, why is it so hard for politicians to play fair.

Is it something we said?

You Don't Want To Be In Love, You Want To Be In Love In A Movie

Romantic Comedies sometimes get a bad rap. The subject of "chick flicks" is even brought up in this movie. This is a classic post-modern moment in that the unattainable nature of rom-coms is being discussed during a rom-com. Genius.

And the criticism is valid. The expectations that movies give us are that there is a perfect romantic relationship out there for everyone and that this relationship is the center of every person. This would seem to indicate that single people are living a less than ideal life. But obviously this is untrue, even though it feels like it is true when living single. So, how did it get here?

I've Never Seen Potatoes Cooked Like That Before

It's something to do with the brain. A desire for procreation, so to speak. It must be. Because I've been living for over thirty years and the credits have yet to roll after a major life plateau. It might have felt like it should have, but they didn't.

And there is that word..."feel" again. I guess that is what this is really all about. Folks want to feel good. But i think the thing that isn't being learned from these movies is in what is missing. The key is what doesn't happen or get said. It's all about what is happening off-camera.

It Was Miss Scarlet, In The Closet, With A Radio

After watching the some two-hours traffic of a typical romantic comedy, the viewer experiences a similar story. It begins with a boy and a girl. They are at first unsure of how they feel about each other, but by enduring a hardship, they discover that they love each other. There of course is some kind of major complication to their union, but through the power of love, they overcome and finally unite as they were fated. Credits roll.

Of course Sleepless in Seattle plays with that dynamic and fully shows fate as the only way the lovers find each other. Sam and Annie never even truly meet until the final scene. This of course makes it the ultimate romantic comedy in that the love is based on pure fantasy. One should remember this when arguing which is better Sleepless in Seattle or You've Got Mail. Clearly Sleepless is better than Mail and all other rom-coms, but this might help in the final summation.

Suck it You've Got Mail fans. And Harry can punch Sally in the face!

She Had Really Fat Fingers

Now as in my summary, in Sleepless, and in all rom-coms the most important part is never seen....the happily ever after. How are Sam and Annie as a couple? Is Annie good with Jonah? When thinking about it, it's obvious that there will be bumps in the road, but the realization only comes after deciding to consider the possibly. The audience ignores the fact that the obstacles are never fully over in a relationship and as such are unaware of the game they have just committed to and lost. Rom-coms are not meant to be studied, and this is were problems arise.

Because the most pleasurable part (the blissful future) is left to the viewer, the fantasy off-screen becomes the entire movie. The mind is capable of creating the most powerful "realities" imaginable. And even though the evidence seems to point to the fact that the two lovers have a history of ignoring what is right in front of their face, the audience glosses over that and dreams that they will never no pain again. The brain has already doen it's job. The trap is sprung and the movie-goer isn't even to the parking lot.

This systematic teaching to deny reality and enjoy the paradise of the mind is why rom-coms should be given higher age restrictions. They can be dangerous for the wrong people.

This is untrue...but it feels true.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 44: Young Frankenstein

Dear Avid Reader,

Movies are so awesome. Truly they are. Perhaps I shall start a blog about them.

This is a terrible opening.

He Was My Boyfriend

True genius, inescapable, profound genius, is rarely understood let alone appreciated in one's own time. As so it goes that my genius will also only be fully grasped outside of my lifetime. Alas and alack. Alack and alas. Woe to the brain that must endure the tedium of undercooked minds and scorching jealousy. Alack and double alack.

Is there no respite? No quiet oasis for the world weary mind to rest it's haunches, sore and tired from the war of ideas? If only I could find some way to silence my enemies; some way of shoving the carrot of achievement into the slackjawed craw of ignorance. If only...wait...could I...but perhaps yes. Yes. Could I create a life? A monster? A creature of words?

There, Wolf. There, Castle.

I shall create a blog. A hulking, lumbering thing of breathing language. Oh it's so simple. So fiendishly simple. A child could have devised it. A child of infinite wisdom and knowledge that is. I am such a child. My mother was brilliance and my father was naked ambition. I was born of their furious passions and burst forth unto the world to reconcile my profoundly intense intellect with the universe of possibility. And that bizarre reckoning will come in the form of a blog.

But what how shall I see this to fruition? What ingredients are to go on my shopping list? What shall be the twisted apparatus? Wait...I could...but not....or just a little...yes. Movie. I will sew these movies of awesomeness into a brutish golem of film and thoughts. Fiendishly clever of me.

The Staircase Can Be Treacherous

But these movies must be processed. Yes of coruse. They must first be wrenched and folded into shapes more acceptable for my purposes. Like so many tortillas I must flatten and chop the cinema with my expert hands and my mind shall serve as the press. The gears will be oiled with diabolical intentions and the dough will be softened by the flour of human unrest. What a supremely royal dish I shall prepare for the banquet of history.

Have I the stomach to launch such a boat from the marina of my soul? Have I the base tenacity of my forebearers? What of the courage? The blasted courage? I must find it, within myself, the spirit of the woodland animals that are my totems of forever. The humble, crazed dynamism of the flying squirrel. The countenance of the mountain ox. I must summon the strength of the fuzzy things. But can I summon it? In a word: most certainly.

My Grandfather's Work Was Doodoo

And surely the leasees of the uppermost spire of the the academic school buildings shall scoff. They will doff their breeches and stuff their hats with opium pipes and find another error in my MLA format. Surely they shall. Why should they go unpublished? Their little, backward, little minds that have been driven over again like so much country driveway, must have a ring to teeth. They must give some kind of sacrifice when the accreditation board comes for their pound of flesh. What's one more roman candle at the company BBQ of egos?

But I shall never go quietly into that dark library of secrets. Close the campus coffee shop boys! It seems they've run out of potential to poison! What has been spinning for years in the belfry is webs of disease. The cruel spiders of procedure and ethical window dressing have finally undone the last stitch of your Letterman's jacket. Gather your patches and pins and prepare for my blog!

Abby Someone

Awaken my blog! Rise and run forth. Step in every lake! Leave the thistles to tell of your visit. Never stop for the plink-plink in the purse of empty pleasure. Instead, unhinge the mailboxes and cash machines from their sleepy positions and instruct their vileness to another end. Punish the times unmeasured!

Go and deafeat them!

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 43: Dirty Dancing

Dear Avid Reader,

Start writing. It's pretty fun.

That's what I keep telling myself.

Yo Cuz, What's She Doing Here?

In the Star Trek episode "Tapestry", Picard has to come to grips with his past. He has regrets, specifically, a nearly fatal bar brawl that requires him to have an artificial heart transplant. But through an experience constructed by the character Q, he realizes that pulling at the loose threads of his life, the regretful parts, would unravel the tapestry of his life.

It's a great episode that i think about when ever I daydream. But one of the problems of that episode is that we don't full experience of the regretful action. Picard only chooses to fight the Nausicaans toward the end of the show. Most of the show is Picard dodging the fight.

Oh Come On Ladies, God Wouldn't Have Given You Maracas If He Didn't Want You To Shake 'Em

Now in Dirty Dancing, we the whole thing feels right. The film is pitch perfect for a big beautiful mess. In life, throwing everything in the air just to chase the feeling of love/lust is par for the course. Especially when you are 16-22 years old. The story of Baby and Johnny is almost a documentary of this phenomenon. It really is.

It's the little things. How quickly Baby starts lying to her parents (money for the abortion, agreeing to not see Johnny again). How quickly things get out of hand (agreeing to help with an abortion, agreeing to become a dancer). How quickly she encounters human ugliness (Robbie, her dad's prejudices, her sister's scorn, the abortion doctor's poor work). All of this happens the moment she decides to try and do things on her own. The film just feels so right. Right down to Baby being convinced that all those women really were using Johnny and not the other way around. Only an idiot kid would fall for that line.

You Were Right, Johnny. You Can't Win No Matter What You Do

But the problem is the ending of the movie. It would end in the total opposite way. Robbie would never have been found out and Jake would have given him that money. Baby and Johnny would never see each other again. In fact Johnny may have been arrested. Wait, why wasn't Johnny arrested?

And Baby's dad would never have relented. The evidence that his way of life is correct is all around him. He has money, a great job, other rich people like Max fall over themselves trying to please him. And a dance number is gonna shake his resolve? There's no way that dude stays quiet while his daughter yells at him on a dock. The kind of guy Jake is, he's gonna slap his dirty whore of a daughter's mouth shut.

I Carried A Watermelon

So, the ending is the only part of the movie that I don't like. Because it rings false to the emotional tone of the rest of the flick. But I have a solution: a new ending. Get ready cause it's genius. Everything in the movie is the same until we get to the talent show. The cast is singing Voices Hearts and Hands. Max gets done talking about how it's all "slipping away", then the camera focuses on Baby in her corner. We zoom in on her face. Voices Hearts and Hands is still fading in the background as we fade to the scenic campus of Mount Holyoke.

We have fast forwarded to Baby in college. Baby is sitting on the lawn with her fellow students. All of them are women, slightly liberal, and are engaged in a discussion about women's rights or how terrible Vietnam is. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she sees some painters loading up their gear into a truck. She sees Johnny place a a paint can and roller in the truck bed and head back inside of the building to get more. Baby instantly gets up and runs over to talk to him. Just then, an attractive older women pulls up to the work site with a kid in the backseat. The two of them pile out of the car and surround Johnny, who embraces the woman and gives her a long kiss. Baby looks on, and watches as the family and paint truck drive off. She returns to the group, already calling her back, eager to return to their protest planning. The camera pans back and then onto the sky while Time Of My Life plays in the background.

Roll credits.

The Steps Aren't Enough, You Have To Feel The Music

See, that's how it actually ends. If Johnny had tried to come back to the hotel, he would have had the crap kicked out of him and been summarily arrested. Jake would never have allowed that greaseball to dance with his daughter, no matter what his wife said. Max would certainly never have allowed the dancing mayhem to ensue. Neil still would have tried to hit on Mrs. Houseman, with varying success. Tito would have still been awesome.

See, these things never end well. It's because the participants arearen't really in love. Baby didn't love Johnny, she just wanted to defy her father and become an adult. Johnny didn't love Baby, he just wanted to get with a young girl. O,r if you want to give johnny some credit, maybe he once again used sex to exact revenge on those wealthy jerks who look down on him. And let's say they do run off together and Johnny becomes some sort of dancing visionary, he still doesn't become successful overnight. There are still years of rejection ahead. Years of poverty. Baby is unprepared for that kind of existence, especially after she has spent her youth preparing to be an empowered women during the 60's. This is a pure summer fling. To say otherwise is bullshit.

The regret of these events propel the two characters to greater triumph. Johnny has modest success, owning a painting business and being an above average father. He never dances again. The memories of Baby are too painful. Baby goes on to become the best civil rights lawyer in the country, never stopping to have a family as no man could live up to the memory of that summer with Johnny. The bitterness of never having a husband and never completing "the lift" drives her to punish her rivals in court.

Like all passionate affairs, this one should end in tragedy, consumed in it's own fire.

Back to your corner Baby.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 42: Ferris Bueller's Day Off

Dear Avid Reader,

Gene Roddenberry believed that the world in the future was free from poverty. And if that is true, that means we would free from time most wasting activities, because all our needs would be met.

And then I could leave early from work.

He's Gonna Be A Fry Cook On Venus

Everyone is going to die. Yes. Everyone. But let's continue with the blog anyway.

Ernest Becker wrote on the topic of death anxiety. He thought that all human endeavors were driven by humanity's awareness that they would one day die. Making a car, turning in homework, applauding a really good taco, all because we are doomed. That's a lot of work staving off death. That's why Ferris invites us to take a day off.

You Realize If We Played By The Rules Right Now We'd Be In Gym?

Usually when someone blows the cover off a scam, it ends the scam. This jig is up. But the great thing about Ferris Bueller is that it may have actually made it more acceptable. America owes John Huges a debt of gratitude.

Obviously kids have been scamming parents into letting them stay home from school and chores for time immemorial. But when kids saw Ferris pulling the same crap, it made the whole act of cutting school seem heroic. He plotted and planned. He showed us that we needed to give parents the fantasy they wanted so that he could live the fantasy that he wanted. It was all part of a game, and he invited audiences to become masters.

Never Had One Lesson

Those scheming kids learned well. Even Bueller could not fool his parents too often and explained that may have to "barf up a lung" in order to take another sick day. Now savvy in the ways of occasionally skipping out on responsibility, the kids applied their art to college and then to jobs. As they grew up their careers grew alongside them.Those kids became bosses and teachers. What would happen when confronted with  skipping from their subordinates and students? Would they become the new Rooneys of the world?

I think they have engaged in another path. Look no further than the film itself. Don't fight it...embrace it.

Anyone? Anyone?

Jeannie is the unsung character of Ferris Bueller. Ferris is the goal, he is what the audience aspires to be. Typically the audience identifies with Cameron, the reluctant friend who, despite being as skilled at deceit, lacks the courage to do the awesome things that Ferris can. The movie provides hope for the Camerons. They too can become Ferris, they need only confront their fears. A happy ending for all, or so it seems.

The movie also accounts for the Jeannies. The Jeannies are those that are jealous of Ferris. They are the rule-followers. They want justice. They work hard and Ferris and his ilk do half the work and get off scot-free. Jeannies want to punish Ferris. And in true Ferris fashion, the movie attempts to charm these line-toers and asks them a simple question: seriously?

They Think He's A Righteous Dude

The answer to the question should be "absolutely not". And the reason is that in the end you die. There is no way around it. And only life/death problems should be taken seriously. The Camerons take life too seriously and the Jeannies take themselves too seriously. And like Cameron, Jeannie must come to a decision. They must face the doomed nature of their existence, realize that all of culture is an extension of a fear of death, let go of desire to conform to that culture, as it is ultimately meaningless, and join in the playing of Ferris's game. The only path to peace is to unclench the fists of desire and begin to dance.

The beautiful dance.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 41: Clue

Dear Avid Reader,

Movies are fun. I hope you have been watching these flicks along with me.

Otherwise you suck.

Communism Is Just A Red Herring

The thing with Clue is that it employs a certain kind of humor. It's very similar to His Girl Friday or The Marx Brothers. The funny is in the words and the speed. It's precise. And precision is hard work. Especially when making a movie with three endings.

And that's the toughest thing to do in movies isn't it? To make a great ending? I never saw Clue in the theatres, so the film has always had three endings. I guess the best ending is the one with Wadsworth ultimately being the blackmailer. I hope I didn't just spoil one of the movies for anyone just then.

In Fact The Double Negative Has Led To Proof Positive

In a way Clue has cheated. I can't really decide if the movie ends well, because when I try to think about it, the ending gets mixed in with all the others. In a way, Clue has solved the problem of having to end it's movie by ending it three times. The finale(s) then gets absorbed into the rest of the fast comedy and washes away. In essence, it ends, but not really.
And I know the intention of the movie makers was that they would have the gimmick of audiences having different experiences and perhaps repeat visits. But now the film is consumed usually with all three being shown. But I think showing three is better than just one. And i'll tell you why.

But Look What Happened To The Cook

I think Clue comes closer to abstract art than any other film. Even more than films like Enter The Void or 2001: A Space Odyssey. Those movies end in an open ended manner and allow the viewer to add their own interpretation as to what the "meaning" is. But they end in a finite way. In 2001, there IS an old man, there IS a big black box, and there IS a floating emryo. It's crazy, but there is an ending.

Clue offers three distinct possibilities. None of the three could happen in a world where the others exisist. And by offering three plausible conclusions, the true ending is fully up for grabs. There are no indisputable facts. There are no old men or embryos to make assumptions about. We will never know who really killed those people. So in this way, Clue is only movie where you can offer your interpretaiton of how it ends and be fully right and fully wrong in an objective sense. Artistic context and intention have no bearing here. The viewer is left on his own. When Wadsworth flips the light off, the audience is fully in control when the lights come back on.

Husbands Should Be Like Kleenex: Soft, Strong And Disposable

Usually when someone tries to cram three endings it turns out like an 80's movie. Or The Lord of the Rings. But Clue works in this weird and cool way, and I like it. You should too.

Otherwise you suck.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 40: The Sandlot

Dear Avid Reader,

Ever notice how hard work brings a tiredness that is unlike any other kind of tired? This is especially true when the work is outside on a hot day.

Well I am tired from working outside in the hot sun and it feels kind of good.

He Was Lucky She Hadn't Beat The Crap Out Of Him

Isn't interesting that Baby Boomer parents don't have any friends? Isn't that weird. And as they are becoming empty-nesters, they don't have anything to do. So they are staying longer at their jobs and bother their kids. And that sucks.

And what's even weirder, is that when watching movies like The Sandlot and other 50's/60's nostalgia flicks, it always seems like the children of that era had the tightest groups of friends in middle school. So what the hell happened?

You're Killing Me Smalls

I think it was wealth. In the intervening years, the kids that played in that sandlot ended up experiencing a time of huge prosperity in this country. They could afford to be alone and they chose to be alone. Just look at the increase in suburban living during the 80's and 90's. If they don't like it, Baby Boomers just move on. Just like the characters ended up doing at the end of The Sandlot.

But that time of huge consumption is over. Now is the time of the hangover after the binge drinking. 9% unemployment looks to be the new normal for the foreseeable future. Low wages and greater wealth inequity are the order of the day. And I, for one, am totally pissed about it.

Anyone Who Wants To Be A Can't-Hack-It Pantywaist Who Wears Their Mama's Bra, Raise Your Hand

Being an unfortunate child of history can be hard, but there is no use in complaining too much about it. It won't change anything. I guess there is solace in knowing that I'm not as big a douchebag as baby boomers.

But not much.

Until Next i Blog,

James

Week 39: UHF

Dear Avid Reader,

Here we are at the final stretch. It's getting harder and harder to write.

But I'm not letting you off that easy.

It's Just Like Working In A Fish Market, Except You Don't Have To Clean And Gut Fish All Day

The only way that absurdity works is if you go all the way. In UHF, when R.J. tells one of his toadies to "take that ridiculous thing off" it's funny when the toadies removes his moustache instead of his outrageous cowboy hat. But it is only transcendentally funny because the actor full commits. Rather than some sort of wink to the audience, the character looks truly crestfallen. Brilliant.

And the only way parody works is if the audience knows about the subject matter. The Town Talk bit in the movie is funny, but it is only transcendent if the viewer experienced the over-the-top talk shows of the 1980's, Geraldo Rivera's show in particular. Otherwise it's just some dude getting hit with a chair.

George, You Know I Can't Do That, You Still Owe Me Five Bucks

Both forms, parody and absurdity, rely on community. For the humor to exist, the audience must be expecting one thing, but be given another. Showing Gandhi as violent womanizer is funny because he is supposed to be non-violent and kind. When Stanley asks if he can still be janitor, it's funny because one would expect that being on television would be more appealing than cleaning a building. You get something you don't expect. Hilarious.

Knowing the viewers is key here. The comedian has to know the expectations so that he can defy them. And the best way to study a subject is to become one. Just ask Jane Goodall.

You Gotta Grab Life By The Lips And Yank As Hard As You Can

And that I think is the real appeal of UHF. It's the community that folks would love to be a part of. Friends coming together to create something. Sure it's funny, but who wouldn't want to be part of that wacky family?

Isn't that what this blog is about?

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 38: Big Trouble in Little China

Dear Avid Reader,

This is probably my favorite movie of all time. It RULES.

But why?

Tall Guy, Weird Clothes, First You See Him, Then You Don't

I first watched this movie when I was twelve. Or maybe eleven. And the reason I watched it was because my fifteen-year-old cousin, or was he sixteen, said that he liked it. Like. He used the word "like". And based on that shimmering review, I decided to memorize the entire movie.

I taped the film off of HBO. And I watched that bootleg copy so often that when I watch the film on my DVD copy, I am always thrown by first two minutes of dialogue. This is because I missed them when I was fumbling to get a tape in the VCR. But undeterred by those missing lines, I watched that movie over, and over and over again. I have seen this flick easily one hundred times. This is not an exaggeration.

This Is Gonna Take Crackerjack Timing, Wang

What is it about repetition that is so appealing to kids? It must be the feeling of imprinting things on a brand new brain. I can remember doing the same thing when I was a teenager; playing albums over and over memorizing the lyrics.

The only time I have done something similar in my adult life is watching episodes of The Office again and again, but I feel short of full on Teletubbies-style repeats. I guess it doesn't feel as good cutting memories into an older established brain.

May The Wings Of Liberty Never Lose A Feather

Now I know that I enjoy new albums and movies as much as I did when I was younger. But I guess I enjoy them in a different way. I can never have a formative experience with media again. And I wonder if I had chosen different films and albums to memorize, would I like different things now? Would the building change if the foundational slab was different?

I guess the question is whether I liked Big Trouble so I watched it a lot, or did I like Big Trouble BECAUSE I watched it a lot? I like to think that my cousin's recommendation only led me to the water, but I decided to keep drinking. But I was a kid eager to be cool. Maybe I just powered trough the viewings, eventually contracting some strange form of Stockholm's Syndrome. And now that I've brainwashed myself, I can never trust my memories. Maybe I hated this film all along.

You Know What Ol' Jack Burton Always Says At A Time Like This?

And because of the unnoticeable changes to my brain I would eventually take the driving rhythm and short duration of the soundtrack to find worth in punk music. This of course changed my disposition to larger, popular culture, turning me, essentially, into a curmudgeon at seventeen. This of course allowed me to develop a personality that constantly critiques the smallest cultural phenomenon and attempt to magnify them into larger truths. Perhaps in blog form.

Great. Now I have to burn this movie.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 37: Road House

Dear Avid Reader,

I really don't like thinking. It's kind of a pain.

Think about THAT!

Take The Biggest Guy In The World, Shatter His Knee And He'll Drop Like A Stone

I experienced a problem recently when I attempted to describe my level of interest in a band. I wanted to say that I like the group, but that they did not rank among my favorites. So in a misguided effort to be accurate I ended up back-tracking and qualifying my opinion into meaninglessness. It sucked.

But I got to thinking, maybe the reason that it's hard to describe one's favor to a particular thing is that this country loves to exaggerate. It's a nation of polarization. And I think if reasonable discourse can be reached when discussing music/movies/etc., then reasonable discourse can be had during politics. She go with me on this.

It's Two Nouns Combined To Elicit A Prescribed Response

Here are a few pillars of this new scale. First, there are no degrees of dislike. There is no fun in finding if you hate something as opposed to if you abhor it. Just dislike it and move on. Second, there is nothing wrong with stopping at one level and not proceeding to the other, and trying to change someone else's rating is counterproductive to this experiment. If Betty tells Jeff that she only likes Band XYZ, Jeff should applaud the Betty's ability to understand her own taste and not berate her for failing to fully embrace the majesty of Band XYZ. This leads us to the last rule.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, people are allowed to change their opinions over time. Let us use out previous example. Betty, since she last saw Jeff, has spent some more time listening to the Band XYZ canon and has grown to truly appreciate the subtle nuance of the guitar playing. She has upgraded to loving the ban. But Jeff becomes frustrated. he wonders why this sudden change has happened in Betty. Why couldn't she see the awesomeness before? Is she trying to appear as if she is a fan in order to look cool to strangers? Jeff shuns Betty and tells her that she will never be a "real fan". Betty kills Jeff with a flamethrower.

You're Too Stupid To Have A Good Time

Now both characters overreacted to the situation. There was no need for Betty to kill Jeff. While he was being a total dick about things, he didn't deserve to die. Similarly Jeff was way out of line with Betty. Does it really matter that Betty changed her mind about a band? Who really cares? Shouldn't Jeff have been happy that there was someone he could share his interests with? I think so. But instead he ended up dead. So sad.

When finding one's self in a discussion about culture, be sure to check your reactions. Be wary of overstating an allegiance to a particular film or book. Is it really that good? Is it really that bad? In essence, the goal is to eliminate exaggeration when possible. It helps everyone.

On with the new scale!

I'd Thought You'd Be Bigger

-1 : Hate/Dislike/Abhor

Save for things that are worthy of scorn. Is the work offensive? If not, think about upgrading to "OK".

Examples: The Pest, Cool As Ice, Creed, Nickelback, Godfather Part III

0 : OK

For works that are neutral. In all honesty, does the work create a feeling of ambivalence? Use when having a hard time remembering details of the work.

Examples: Most things that people think they hate/like, Step by Step, M. Night Shyamalan, Christina Aguilera

1 : Like

The overall feeling the work gives is positive. Do qualifiers appear when discussing the work (examples: PRETTY good, KINDA liked it, FAIRLY descent)? If so something may be preventing a leap into fully accepting the work.

Examples: Jerry Bruckheimer movies, Huey Lewis and the News, R.E.M, The Addams Family

2: Love

The positive feeling of the work creates a desire to convince others of the works worthiness. Do quotes from the work pepper conversation? Something deeper than like would drive a person to visit Wikipedia, IMDB, or the official website for more information.

Examples: The Andy Griffith Show, The Beatles, The Godfather, The Wizard of Oz, Seinfeld, Weezer's Blue Album

3 : Ardor/Devotion/Passion

The positive feeling may cause a desire to protect the work rather than proselytize. Was the work first discovered during the ages of 12-17? Is there a suspicion that others can never enjoy the work to it's fullest? Save for when the work is precious, deeply sentimental, formative, and or is perceived to describe a personal quality of the fan.

Examples (of what devoted fans look like): Star Trek, KISS, Rocky Horror Picture Show, Harry Potter, Star Wars

I Got Married, To An Ugly Woman. Don't Ever Do That. It Just Takes The Energy Right Out Of You.

So I say all of this to say, you probably don't hate Road House. You are actually ambivalent toward it and may even like it. So stop groaning in conversations when I say that i love this movie. Search your honest feelings before speaking. You may find that you don't have any.

And I won't have to spend an afternoon writing about it.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 36: Repo: The Genetic Opera

Dear Avid Reader,

Weather is nuts. You just can't control it.

It's serious biz-nazzz.

I'll Keep Those Vultures Guessing

I'm sure most folks would pick substance over style. I guess by choosing substance one feels superior to style choosers. Deeper. Smarter.

Well they are wrong. Style is better.

I Look Like A Crime Scene, Dad

After watching Repo: The Genetic, one is left with the sense that they just watched a terrible movie. They are in fact right. Repo is truly a terrible movie. But I think that description is incomplete.

In order to appreciate Repo, one must have had more than a passing brush with "geek-ish" culture during the past decade. During the first decade of the new millennium, nerds saw their favorite films, music, games, and books shoot right to the front of the line. Culture makers new that if they could make stuff for these hard-core consumers, the sky was the limit in terms of profit. No fan would by more of their project-related crap than this group of people that put their consumption up as a mare of honor. And lo how the dorks were exploited.

Chase The Morning, Yield For Nothing

Exhibit A in the trail of this exploitation is Repo. It basically goes down the list of things that these folks want. Brooding/tortured hero, and an innocent heroine. Hugely popular but insanely corrupt villain. Violence. Dystopian future. Black lipstick. Buffy's musical episode. And of course, snappy dialogue. Well...snappy-ish.

Of course there is one thing missing from the recipe. A story.

Here's what I mean about a missing story: when you have to pause the action and explain to the audience what is going on, you have failed at making a story. You failed so bad Repo. So bad.

Blame Not My Cheeks

Now I see no reason in critiquing the movie beyond that. I leave it to others to describe the two-dimensionality of the characters and the like. I am more interested in how Repo succeeds. Because it totally gets all the other things right.

Just look at the Graverobber character. He's shadowy and opportunistic. He's got great lines. He is who every nerd dreams of becoming when the big one hits. He's this movie's Han Solo. And the whole idea of capitalism gone so extreme as to repossess body parts is truly inspired. You have to completely turn everything off in your mind and just look around the movie and see the sights. Who wants to see the cranks and levers when they can just ride Space Mountain? In other words enjoy the scenery as the cast chews it.

A Mighty Small Drop In A Mighty Dark Plot

But the substance choosers will show up and demand an easily understood story and characters that make sense. They are the people who tell you how much fat is in the cake you are about to eat. They are the ones who think everything can be controlled. But they are wrong again.

Ultimately it comes down to what we think we want. Do we want substance? Do we want vegetables? Do we seatbelts? Do we want TV with a v-chip? Heck no. We want style, cake, convertibles, and American Gladiators.

Some would say that we may want the "bad" stuff but we need the good "stuff". But they'd be wrong about that too.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 35: Troll 2

Dear Avid Reader,

Rapture coming later this month. So the crazy people say.

People are crazy.

Let Me Give You Some Helpful Advice, You...Dwarves

People really are crazy. What is the difference between persistence and obsession? When is the line crossed?

Winners never quit. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Walk it off. Get back on the horse. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off.

No wonder people are crazy.

Half Man, Half Plant, The Goblin's Favorite Food

The problem is that persistence does pay off. Keeping your nose down is a good thing. Victory IS just around the corner.

But what about when it isn't. What happens to the folks who believe in the May 21st Rapture and it doesn't happen? Do they keep believing? Shouldn't they quit? Isn't it obvious that they've failed? At what point did the folks working on Troll 2 realize they were going to fail?

Was it at the first read-through? Was it when the goblin masks arrived? The double-decker bologna sandwich? The plant set dressing? When Mike Hamil showed up in a mullet and began his "sermon" as the preacher Bells? When they referred to the church as a house?

No More, No More Popcorn

The important thing is that they did not quit. And the result is a truly mesmerizing film. Despite the fact that everyone is woefully under-prepared for the task of making a movie, they pushed onward. They got it done. Winners never quit.

And I don't know how they ended up with such a great product. A film that is infinitely re-watchable and gripping. That's why Troll 2 is no longer a "bad" movie. It's not even "So-bad-it's-good". It is simply good. To me, a bad movie is boring. If you want to watch a bad movie, watch Cool As Ice, or The Pest. Those films are totally unwatchable. They are painful. Troll 2, on the other hand, is a great ride from beginning to end. It is fun to watch.

It's Goblin Spelled Backwards

And that is what we need to make room for in our film vocabulary. High production value, or basic production value, should not be a requirement for kinematic greatness. Rather, totally focusing on the enjoyment the film gives is the ONLY measure for film. All other measures are academic and are best left to the elitists in the their ivory tower.

After all, the tower is where they used to stick the REAL nutjobs.

Until Next I Blog,

James

Week 34: The Room

Dear Avid Reader,

If you are going to a The Room screening, call me. I want to go.
Seriously.

I'm freaking serious.

You Are Tearing Me Apart, Lisa!

How important is it to understand what an artist intended when looking at a work of art? Would the level of enjoyment that an individual receives from Guernica by Picasso diminish if it was discovered that it is meant to be a love letter to a woman? What if it is supposed to be about Picasso's father and not about Nazi attacks? Is it any less beautiful? Any less compelling?

That's a lot of questions.

My response to these questions is "no". The artist's intended story has little to do with how I view a work. The artist needs a viewer in order to complete my idea of what art truly is. I see it as something is created and the audience interprets. What happens in my brain is what is most important, not necessarily what happened in the studio.

Now that I have explained art in simple terms, it will be easy to understand why I believe The Room is a great piece of art.

I'm Tired, I'm Wasted, I Love You Darling.
Alright. Roll those eyes back. End the guffaws. This is truth that I'm laying down.

See, it doesn't matter if Tommy Wiseau intended to make a serious movie about betrayal. The end result is a magnificent and hilarious cartwheel through wonderment. Actually, that last sentence should be the tagline on every poster of The Room.

Anyway, How Is Your Sex Life?

No mere "bad movie" could illicit the reactions that The Room does. People watch it over and over. They invented a culture around it. It has inspired other works of art like video games and fan fiction. We are dealing with a transformative tour du force.

Here's what I'm trying to say: we are living in a new world. There are now only two kinds of people, those who have seen The Room, and those that haven't seen it yet. And the final chapter will be a world where everyone has seen it. I am merely a harbinger of things to come. This is through-the-looking-glass stuff folks. So shall it be written, so shall it be done.

The only thing left to do is get your plastic spoons ready and get your tuxes on.

Until Next I Blog,

James

P.S. Did I just compare Guernica to The Room?

Click for my "The Room: Audience Participation Guide"