whoa! of the wow!

We went to our local googleplex tonight and saw War of the Worlds, that multi-million-dollar thingie Tom Cruise was supposed to be promoting as he recently hopped from couch to table to Katie to Matt Lauer's Enemies List. Movie star behavioral issues aside, director Steven Spielberg can be proud of his film, which is effective to such a degree that I almost wish it were not so.

WotW is, frankly, relentless. The movie is quite in tune with its nail-biting habit. So much so that the problem lies in the fact that pandemonium, mass-hysteria and sheer, constant terror probably shouldn't be maintained for almost two hours straight, for fear of seeming sadistic. If it seems like the film ends with kind of a calm, sighing breath, it is because exhaustion is the only plausible result for both its characters and its audience. I am not yet certain if this is a good or bad thing; the film is clearly well-made, as the persistent effects will attest (But is this really a concern? This is the man who brought dinosaurs so seamlessly to life in Jurassic Park.). And with the exception of Tim Robbins' bad east coast dialect and looney tune flailings (really now, if aliens were outside your door, wouldn't you know to shut up?), the actors all do a fine job of registering sixteen levels of crazed fear, horror and grief.

Yet the film really never quite lets up. Even in calmer moments, there is always some awful droning from a nearby alien vehicle, or a steadily escalating throng of citizens attempting to flee the next dusting by galactic sharecroppers. And it's a film not one whit afraid of Grand Guignol darkness. There is a panoramic shot of a valley that has been affected by what the aliens end up doing to humans, and the horizon is lit up with the colors of the result. It's quite horrifying, and not the sort of thing Spielberg excels at, but clearly should try more often. It isn't a sugar-coated, happy-slappy funtime of a movie. It is not E.T., unless E.T. became a million vampiric E.T.s, all armed with spindly-legged tripods and steel-blue death rays. But it is a tremendously powerful scare trip, and if you don't mind the lack of narrative explanation (we are to assume that the aliens arrived after monitoring Earth for so long because they needed a new take-out joint, but you don't really get enough time to consider such implausibilities) you should like it just fine.

ALSO IN THEATERS...

George A. Romero's Land of the Dead is a fine follow-up to his original Dead Trilogy. In fact, I would go as far as saying it could be the second best film of the four. Dawn, on repeat viewings, becomes a little too steadfast in its message about rampant consumerism, and the actual zombies aren't that horrible to watch. Day was never very good to begin with and even worse in retrospect. Land's only real fault is that it comes after so many better films that were spawned by Romero's originals that it seems to be the last gasp in a long and warbling death-rattle. Still, John Leguizamo, Simon Baker and Romero are dutiful servants to the zombie ouevre, and the film doesn't ever lag or become silly. Give it a look...if it is still there by the time you read this (we were two of six people in the audience for our mid-evening screening, and this was three days after it opened...I feel confident it will do bang-up business on DVD).

AND ON DVD...

Still watching films for the upcoming festival (which is why I haven't had an entry in 10 days). And I must say, they range from well-that-was-far-better-than-I-had-anticipated to oh-dear-god-I-didn't-know-103-minutes-could-feel-like-7-hours. But as I stated earlier, I will speak about them all later, at the end of August.

wanta fanta?

so much love, so little shelf space

DVDs are more important than Michael Jackson

Where The Buffalo Roam :: Bill Murray's take on the Hunter S. Thompson persona, with a mad Peter Boyle in the background, chewing scenery, not entirely sure if his career will end on a lame sitcom. Made in 1980 and directed by producer Art Linson, it is fun stuff, and a bit more tame than Terry Gilliam's Fear and Loathing..., which while brilliant can be a little toxic if you aren't prepared for it.

Chi-hwa-seon :: Im Kwon Taek's terrific biography of Korea's (arguably) greatest painter, Jang Seung-up, played by Oldboy's Choi Min-sik in a really magnificent portrayal. I dig on films about painters, and this one is top-notch. Think Bukowski, as a painter, in nineteenth century Korea. It's very cool stuff.

Volcano High :: Another film from our dear friends in Korea. This one, a parody of high school and kung fu films, plays like West Side Story with wire work, but a lot less serious. It's fast-paced fun, and you get the MTV hip-hop version as well as the original Korean in this 20th Century Fox release. Nifty.



Seems as though Adult Swim (Cartoon Network) has decided to forego Paranoia Agent and Samurai Champloo due to suffocating ratings. You poor saps, do you realize what you're missing? Oh, you miserable, slight souls. You must call AS right now and have them bring the shows back, or even better, go get the DVDs and watch them all in their original Japanese. Either way, you're missing out on some of the best anime in the last decade. Holla!



Final note, until the next defense: maybe now that it's all over, Michael Jackson can go away somewhere, get his nerves back, rest up. Regroup. Assess his life. Move forward.

Can I suggest Aruba?

The season finale of The Shield, one of the top programs on TV these days (alongside such fellows as Deadwood and The Sopranos), was a terrific closer. It avoided a lot of really predictable scenarios, left open some surprising developments for next year, and was just an awesome bit of TV, as it has been all season. If you've missed any season of The Shield, the first three are on DVD and this one probably will be before the year is out. It's a hardcore drama that doesn't relent. Worth your time, jagoff.

And in case you didn't read it, there was a report weeks ago that Viagra was causing blindness in some users. Wait, let me stop sputtering with laughter, get up off the floor and continue. Hmm, let's see, behind door number 1, 20/20 vision...behind door number 2, withering tumescence. Which will you choose, Jojo?

epididdly!

liam neeson, pillar of strength

Saw Batman Begins the other day, and there was Liam Neeson again, threatening to be in only the first 10 minutes of another adventure.

Playing Henri Ducard, he trains young Patrick Bateman how to breathe in his fear and breathe out ass-kicking, but only if he'll promise to use it in the shadows. They stand in a shanty on a mountaintop and throw blue flowers at each other while ninjas dance around them, very much like an angry Tibetan version of Lord of the Dance. When Neeson's character is knocked unconscious, you know he'll show up for the last 10 minutes of the show, but in what capacity is unclear. The movie is awesome fun, with some much-needed depth and a bunch of fun supporting roles played to the hilt by great actors who usually don't show up for the superhero money. I highly recommend it.


The nice lady at the local 7-11 said she liked it when I came in, because I always smile. I figured it was just good manners, but apparently I am the op-ed response to the world's ills. Take note, you grouchy mugs.



misanthropes have feelings, too

now is the weekend of our discontent

I hate arguing on the weekend. Just felt I should say that, get it off my chest. I'd much prefer not arguing at all, or at least arguing on a slow Tuesday night or maybe Thursday at lunch.



I like what you have to say, but that's not really funny

the mystery machine

I hate going longer than 4 days between posts, let alone a day or so. I have way too much to write about but haven't had enough time. And now, we are starting prep work on the 4th Annual Asian Film Festival of Dallas (AFFD), watching some films and writing reviews for the upcoming program. The festival is in August, so go check out www.affd.org if you're going to be in the Dallas area that month, and come by and see some of the great stuff lined up. Of course, I can't tell you what that is (yet), nor can I speak about any films I've watched so far...not until after the festival. Then I'll go on and on about them all. For now, I am having to be cautious what I say. Needless, the armload this week will be light, since most of the stuff I've been watching is AFFD-type.

Actually, I can talk about a couple of items that won't be shown at the festival:

-ARAHAN
Wide-eyed rookie cop finds that he's got super-chi and can walk on air, levitate, throw a mighty palm blast and other cool stuff. There's a story about seven masters and a fight for the key to the super-chi realm and lots of acupuncture and nifty jumpin' around, but mostly you'll just watch and enjoy this cool mix of comedy, drama, wire work and CG effects.

-PURPLE BUTTERFLY
Beautifully filmed, near-wordless, and really, really bleak, this tale of Chinese revolutionaries during the pre-WWII era is one of those films where every scene has somebody shooting someone else for "the cause". It tries really hard to be Shanghai Triad, but doesn't quite make it. Of course, that's a pretty high bar to reach for. Still, a really well-made, well-acted film. And it has the Ziyi Zhang, looking all mystery train.

And In Theaters...

-Mr. and Mrs. Smith
Ehhh, it's fun. No big deal. Funny, cute, and not such a bad way to spend a couple hours. Sure, give the two most attractive people in the world eight bucks. You won't feel so bad afterward.

And In CD Players:

-Gorillaz, Demon Days
Awesome, awesome, awesome. A big wet kiss for fans of eclectica.

-The White Stripes, Get Behind Me Satan
Almost awesome. A big warm sonic hug from a man with a marimba.


Okay, that's it. Now I gotta go get all this loose stuff pulled together and see what is too old to blog, what's still fresh, and get the last pile off this desk. I can finally see the fine wood grain.

this week's armload

...is smaller and yet, no less invigorating.

- A Snake of June
[2002, Japanese, dir: Shinya Tsukamoto] A brief (77 minutes long) but deeply engaging drama about a married couple brought closer by creepy and erotic circumstance, A Snake of June is only for the adventurous filmgoer, and I'm not being lewd here when I say that. No innuendo intended: the film is one that if you have very mainstream sensibilities, you will not like or understand or complete or stand for it. A history of foreign film, pornography and marital crisis will lead you to a better appreciation of it, though those elements certainly are not required. Nor are they indicative of the film itself. It may seem creepy and lurid, but becomes erotic and freeing in an overtly sexual way. It may seem to supplant a steady (if staid) marriage with conflict, but ends on a happier and healthier note than most marriage dramas. Finally, it is artfully made without thumbing its nose at the viewer.

Considering it comes from the director of Tetsuo: The Iron Man, it's downright serene, cinematically-speaking. Of course, renting Tetsuo as a primer to the director's work would be challenge enough. This is one of the best films I've seen this year, and it's caught me by surprise in a big way. Sometimes those are the most rewarding ones.


- Gantz/Samurai Champloo
Two anime series with two distinct problems: one never delivers on the promise of something unique, and the other delivers almost too well.

Gantz is a tale of two teens who are killed in a freakish subway incident, but wake up to find themselves in a small apartment with several strangers and a black sphere. They are dead, it would seem, and yet the sphere gives them instructions to go into the city and destroy an alien being. Once done, they are given a score, and then sent back to their normal lives...until it's time to take part in another hunt. This sounds far more interesting than it appears, mainly because of the execution of the narrative. For a half-hour show in which long segments take place without anything really happening and no answers to the mysteries therein being provided, it becomes tiresome very quickly. I have now watched the first 10 episodes, and let's just say I'm uncertain how many more I can watch without some payoff.

Samurai Champloo, by contrast, is quick, witty, colorful, jaunty, funny...interesting in every way. Imagine Akira Kurasawa's Yojimbo and The Hidden Fortress crossed with Cowboy Bebop's lackadaisical attitude and trendy visuals, all tied neatly off with a hip-hop edge that seems fresh despite its bordering on anachronistic. The story follows two adversarial samurai (one calm and disciplined, the other a loose cannon) who travel with a young teahouse waitress as she searches for a man we know nothing about. Their quest repeatedly places them in the middle of local disputes, Yakuza wars and other skirmishes, and they rarely see closure to any event without at least three good sword fights. It's a really fun show, and thanks to Adult Swim we don't have to wait on each subsequently released DVD (though watching in the original Japanese with subtitles is more rewarding).

The only downside is that of the 7 or 8 episodes I've seen so far, I don't feel like I'm getting to know enough about the characters and their motivations, though I certainly don't mind the wait. The big difference between Gantz and Champloo is that the former seems to be driving itself very slowly into the ground, while the latter can - almost - walk on water.

goofy stuff

The Lovely Wife sent me a story about how her parents had been experiencing a noise in their chimney which they thought was bats. Bats in their bellfry, so to speak. Turns out the noise was the chirping of baby birds...endangered baby birds, which they can take no action to remove. She thought it sounded like an episode of Family Guy.

I told her that if it were Family Guy, her dad would have gotten a temp job with the department of wildlife in order to get closer to nature, until he burned down some wetlands in an attempt to warm the endangered birds' parents.

Even better: the birds actually left of their own accord, and her folks put in a bird-proofing cap to their chimney. Now, every night as they try to sleep, all they can hear is the KER-FLANG of small birds flying into the metallic structure blocking their entry point.

Tell Seth McFarlane I'm right here...

the sad waltz of nostalgia

Leon Askin, the Austrian actor who played General Burkhalter on Hogan's Heroes, died the other day at the age of 97. In remembrance: Klink!

Anne Bancroft died Monday; she was 73. Best known for playing Mrs. Robinson in The Graduate, a different generation would come to know her as Amanda, the courtesy teacher to young, angry assassin wannabes in Point of No Return (a remake of La Femme Nikita). Personally, I liked her best as Mrs. Kendal in The Elephant Man, and as Helene Hanff in 84 Charing Cross Road. It's one of those passings about which both my parents and I can feel equally sad.

piggy-backing off my previous reports...

- The Poseidon Adventure is being re-made. Did I not just say...(sigh). I'm sure it will be fascinating cinema.

- Bad Behavior, Volume 58: Russell Crowe being arrested for throwing a telephone. Did you see that photo of him being carted off by police? A billion-dollar man, I'd guess, and he can't find something better than that ugly-ass blue jacket?

- Bad Behavior Catching Up With You, Volume 93: Anyone counting down to the Michael Jackson Implosion? The Season Finale Fireworks? The THUD that only the most hardened observers expect to hear after a guilty verdict is announced? We need a nuclear clock for this one, ticking off the milliseconds until A Very Special Episode.

And by the way, kids, never try to write something while watching a David Lynch film. The simultaneous distractions of creation and a puzzle movie is too much for the brain to handle.

movie detritus

- Christina Ricci is so far gone career-wise that she is down to being quoted about her eyebrows. Check this out: "I was plucking my eyebrows like crazy for a while, but it was too high maintenance. ...I like that old movie star look, but my boyfriend was like, 'You look crazy.'"

(sigh)

Prozac Nation really must have done a number on her. And I don't mean the movie itself, but how long it went without being released. And then, well, yeah, how awful it was. According to, oh, EVERY film critic I ever read.

- Gene Wilder was quoted as saying he thinks Tim Burton's version of Charlie & the Chocolate Factory was made strictly for the money.

No, you think?

Wilder seemed quite cordial about the whole thing, saying he admired Johnny Depp's work and was complimented by the star's comments. And while it smacks of someone standing up for their version of a story, it also comes down to that question I've been repeating over and over lately: Why would they re-make THAT movie? We have seen so many lately: Texas Chainsaw Massacre / Amityville Horror / Willy Wonka / Psycho / The Getaway / King Kong / Manchurian Candidate / you name it. Frequently they aren't even great movies.

So why all the do-overs? Greed and the inability to create. Business and sterile art.

I blame Blockbuster.

- Lastly, British film magazine Empire did a poll to see who were the best film directors of all time. The list was as follows:

1-Steven Spielberg
2-Alfred Hitchcock
3-Martin Scorsese
4-Stanley Kubrick
5-Ridley Scott
6-Akira Kurosawa
7-Peter Jackson
8-Quentin Tarantino
9-Orson Welles
10-Woody Allen

I don't put it past anyone to name Spielberg the best, because he's viewed as such a magician that I almost don't mind him slipping through. Granted, his weightier films are fewer than his fun ones. But he has the ability to do both on his side, and I'd wager that few on the list can lay claim to that skill.

The majority of the list are directors whose works clearly will be remembered, studied and revered for decades to come. But...Ridley Scott and Peter Jackson? They make enjoyable films, to be certain. But they have not yet garnered the kind of resonant acclaim that I think the rest of the list displays. Even Allen and Tarantino, who are more contemporary auteurs than pure artists, have at least become synonymous with their favored genres, even if they haven't risen above them.

It just seems a shame that masters like Sidney Lumet, John Ford and Billy Wilder weren't noticed. Or that more European filmmakers didn't make the grade. Godard? Truffaut? Bertolucci? Wenders? Herzog?

Ah well. Lord of the Rings was awfully pretty, huh?

whatever happened to personal space?

Recently, Burt Reynolds slapped a reporter who asked a question about the film The Longest Yard that he didn't care for. Comedian and mallet-master Gallagher slapped a man in his audience as "part of his routine". Marilyn Manson was reported to have slapped a security guard with a certain part of his anatomy during a concert. All of which beg the question: whatever happened to personal space?

When did random acts of violence, no matter how small, become an okay deal? And why aren't celebrities being walloped by the authorities when these things occur? If you or I walked down the street and randomly smacked people in the puss, we'd be carried away and pistol-whipped (well, here in Texas, at least). What gives these folks the idea that it's okay to just haul off and crack someone?

Russell Crowe was popped today for a misdemeanor after throwing a telephone in a rage at some NY hotel and hitting a clerk in the face. Now, some might say that his only crime was bad aim. Others might say we've got a long way to go when our cultural refrigerator magnets are being more childish than a bunch of three-year-olds.

How do you teach grade-schoolers to act with honor and dignity when the halftime entertainment is Tom Cruise jumping over Oprah's head like a crazed lemur, with Paris Hilton and Tara Reid flipping off your grandma from the sidelines?

It's in times like these that I wish we had that doomsday device from Escape To L.A., and we could just start over. Refresh. Alt-control-delete the world and get back to basics.

People need to learn some manners, and they need to learn to write letters again.

I blame American Idol.

happy birthday, uncle kracker!

Today was Uncle Kracker's birthday. He turned 31. I just find it enjoyable to say "Uncle Kracker".

It's also Sandra Bernhard's birthday. She's turning 50, which means that when I was younger and thought she was hot in kind of a weird way, I could have probably had a chance...if I had lived in New York and attended very eclectic gallery openings, and had developed some good pickup lines. Or maybe not.

It's also Paul Giamatti's birthday (38). I think Giamatti is a class act, and I recommend you check out anything he's done. Except for that stupid flick about the kid whose screenplay gets ripped off by the evil film director. That was some loathsome crap.

Finally, B. B. King's birthday is coming up. Everyone should go buy a blues CD and then raise a glass to the old masters. This contemporary stuff just doesn't cut it. It is also hard to believe that Eric Clapton just turned 60 this year, and King will be 80 soon. Seems like one should be much older than the other.


we love you too, lucille

the cliburn morning news

Until yesterday, that's what the local paper had become, with daily coverage of a piano competition no one cares about anyway. If I wanted to see week after week of piano journalism in my paper, I'd have lived in Pianochussets.

There's no real joke here; I'm just tired of the coverage and am glad it's over. Now we can move on to important things, like Tom Sizemore's cries of foul play. Ahh, justice!

this week's DVD armload

In no particular order:

- MPD Psycho, Episodes 1 & 2

[2001 / Japanese / dir: Takashi Miike] Made for television (and a clear signal that American TV, even at its most legitimately daring, is nowhere near the edge), this series follows a police detective on the trail of a devious killer: a personality that seems able to enter people's minds through telephone lines and internet connections, driving them to realize their most murderous urges. Assisting in the investigation is a younger detective who was previously engaged by the personality (one of three at that time), which puts his determination and initiative in question. There is also a slightly more benevolent agent, in the form of an anime schoolgirl, who moves in an equally ethereal fashion but whose motives are also equally murky. The program is filmed on digital video, and that method gives it an urgency and immediacy that is captivating despite the slow pace and confusing narrative. If you can find it, and you have a taste for morbid thrillers that seem as willing to explain themselves as David Lynch films, then give it a try.

- H

[2002 / Korean / dir: Lee Jong-Hyuk] Take films like Cure, Seven and Silence of The Lambs, and you pretty much have the templates for H, a well-made but very familiar cop thriller. It is a very watchable film. You'll just have to remind yourself every few scenes that you've seen it all before.

- Criminal

[2004 / U.S. / dir: Gregory Jacobs] An English-language version of the Argentinian scam-drama Nine Queens. Just check out that film instead, because even the reliable John C. Reilly can't muster enough excitement to make this one worth the trouble.

- This So-Called Disaster

[2003 / U.S. / dir: Michael Almereyda] Sam Shepard writes real downers for plays, but they are fascinating, personal works that make up some of the best American theater of a generation. The Late Henry Moss is a story whose title character would appear to be a fictional portrait of Shepard's father, but that's not the whole point of the work. Watching high-caliber actors like Nick Nolte, Sean Penn and James Gammon burn through Shepard's work in rehearsal after rehearsal is captivating, given it's static nature. We never see the full play, but that's not a problem; there is an ample amount of drama, surrounded by humorous moments that belie the actors' overly-serious reps. If you like behind-the-scenes documentaries and are a fan of actors and writers who excel at their craft, rent this one now.

- Malice @ Doll

[2000 / Japanese / dir: Keitarou Motonaga] Apparently its title is just Malice Doll, which makes more sense, but hey, who's griping about a title when there's so much else wrong with a movie? Nigh unwatchable, this display of computer graphics is as murky in its presentation as it is in its narrative ability. Really, really bad.

- Hotel Rwanda

[2004 / United Kingdom / dir: Terry George] Absolutely heart-breaking, but very good. Watch only if you have lots of kleenex or a hearty constitution.

...and in theaters: Mad Hot Ballroom

[2005 / U.S. / dir: Marylin Agrelo] A wonderful documentary about school children learning to ballroom dance for a city-wide competition, this is a real winner. Delightful in every way, you can't miss. Go now. I mean right now.

Next week: A Snake Of June and Red Lights. They're both subtitled, so get ready to read, Jojo.