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
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Week 49: Monty Python and the Holy Grail
Dear Avid Reader,
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
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
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
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
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
Thursday, July 28, 2011
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
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 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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