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
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
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
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
Thursday, July 14, 2011
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
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
Thursday, July 7, 2011
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
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
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