Quick little note about my effect on the internet.

A few days ago, I was talking with some friends about the reason I stopped reading Ain't It Cool News, and it comes back to being called an "elitist" and being told to "fuck off" by Harry Knowles in a review he posted. Back in 2003, I saw a sneak preview of Old School, which I didn't particularly care for, but basically said that even though I liked other frat pack comedies of the time, I felt that this one wasn't up to snuff, and felt forced. I wish I had that email easily available, but it's hidden on an old hard drive, and I don't feel like plugging in my old computer for that. Anyway, I felt that I had a reason to write in, because the reviews had been pretty positive on the site, and I had a differing opinion. So I send in the email, and wait a couple of days before I start wondering what's up. The next day, this was posted, and I got my answer. Harry Knowles thinks I'm an elitist. And I think he's an apologist for crap because it has boobies in it.

Jigoku & Imprint

Jigoku and Imprint are two Japanese looks at Buddhist hell. Jigoku is one of the most disturbing looks at hell filmed in Japan I've ever seen, with gore galore in the story of a theology student who flees a deadly car accident and is tormented by guilt. And then people start dying and he has a friend who follows him around and knows his darkest secrets. And then the last forty-ish minutes are him wandering around a stylistically fascinating version of hell, looking far more impressive than the obvious low-budget film should have. Imprint, on the other hand, felt sort of like Miike just trying to be more disturbing than his earlier films. His problem was that he cast Billy Drago as the white man. Billy Drago can't act. In fact, Billy Drago is, without a doubt, the worst single actor I have ever seen in a Miike film. And that includes the porn stars who've been in his other films. Which is a shame, because otherwise I might have cared far more for his horrible fate. But really, his fate is because he's a stupid idiot. The fate of Komomo is the far worse part, being left as a prostitute, and then tortured in a brutal scene that I just couldn't watch. Which, considering that I've been able to watch other Miike movies without much problem (although the sounds in Audition when the man's feet are sawed off are what I will always think of when I hear the word audition), the pins and shibari were truly horrific. That she was in hell, as was the other prostitute (played by Youki Kudoh, who I have a soft spot for due to Mystery Train), is made obvious through the repeated flashbacks. But the incest, abortion, rape, murder, torture are Miike trademarks.

When We Were Orphans, Werewolves in Their Youth, & Wonder Boys

When We Were Orphans is Kazuo Ishiguro's fifth novel, and he is best known for writing The Remains of the Day, the best Merchant-Ivory film. That novel was great, and while When We Were Orphans couldn't match that, it was an engaging story of a young boy, orphaned in Shanghai when both of his parents disappeared, and then growing up in England in the interwar years to be a detective, and his efforts to both save the world from World War II and to find his parents. For someone who has a well-known interest in both Asian and English culture and history, this book was right up my alley. I do not, in any way, regret purchasing and reading this book. Which is high praise.

Werewolves in Their Youth is a collection of short stories by Michael Chabon (including one in the guise of August Van Zorn, the Gothic horror author from his Wonder Boys). Digression to talking about Wonder Boys (which I read a couple months ago and was waiting to rewatch the movie before writing it up): being a big fan of the movie (back when Katie Holmes wasn't brainwashed), and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, I hadn't bothered to go find Wonder Boys or his other works. I have rectified that, and have to say that I like the book more than the movie. Mainly because there is more time spent with his in-laws, the scene in the parking lot, and the addition of the snake. Along with the trunk full of amazing things. Certainly, I can't complain about a Jewish family that has taken it upon themselves to adopt a bunch of Korean girls and screw them up just as much as Jews tend to screw up their own kids (Grady Tripp's sister-in-law was a great little character), so I have to say that the little bits that were cut out to make the film fit in two hours were some of my favorite parts in the book. Werewolves in Their Youth, on the other hand, was a collection of short stories, almost entirely about failing marriages (or failing families), except for the August Van Zorn Gothic story, In the Black Mill, a Lovecraftian piece of trash that works due to the sheer will of Chabon to keep to the pastiche. It's awkwardly written, sentence structures are far more complicated than they should be, and just works about as well as a Lovecraft story. I was hoping for some description of a tentacled beast, but was denied. The other short stories are occasionally good, occasionally not so good, but all paint a very clear picture of troubled people. So if that's what you want to read about, then go ahead and find a copy of this.

City of Men & Battlestar Galactica: Razor

City of Men is the Brazilian TV show that basically follows a couple of favela kids in Rio over about four years, with most of the people behind City of God also working on this. Because of that, it's extremely well-made, funny, touching, heartbreaking, and ultimately uplifting, although also longer than I was expecting. Three discs full of shenanigans, get rich quick schemes, macking on the ladies (who are hot Brazilians, of course), and occasional forays into animation, dream sequences, music videos, breaking the fourth wall (the entire last episode is one long semi-joke about taking people who were poor and giving them a taste of the high life and then forcing them to live their new life) and other post-modern touches. But it was generally enjoyable, and an interesting look at being both poor and black in a society that doesn't really care for either. Well, it's not like most societies like either.

Battlestar Galactica: Razor is a supersized BSG episode. Therefore I was thrilled. And it also allows me to talk up the wonders of interracial couplings (or more, as Soledad O'Brien shows), as Kendra Shaw is played by Stephanie Chaves-Jacobsen, a half-Portuguese, half-Chinese-Norwegian-English version of hotness. I've been told by people that she's possibly too thin, but I didn't notice that at all, as I was too busy being distracted by both her attractiveness and her Australian accent. Seriously, every woman should have a Commonwealth accent, because they just add to their being my fantasy. Ok, now that I've gotten that out of my way, I liked the action sequences, and even though I knew where the plot was going fairly early on (and the "twist" in the main plot was so cliched), I like the added character moments for the Adamas. And I will never, ever, ever complain about having more Michelle Forbes anywhere. And who didn't think that Starbuck was going to usher in the apocalypse, even if they didn't care about hanging out with Katee Sackhoff? Why the hell can't I stop talking about hot women in BSG? Because it's just impossible.

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, Who Killed the Electric Car?, Art School Confidential, Death in Venice, The Leopard, Street Fight, & Reds

Half-assed review time! Mainly because it's been almost a month since I last updated about movies watched. And split over a few posts.

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu was pretty depressing. It's a Romanian film about an older Hungarian who moved to Bucharest, where he was left by everyone who might have had a reason to love him: his wife died, his brother and sister live hours away and he owes them money, his daughter lives in Toronto and never calls him, his neighbors can't stand him, and the only thing he has is his drinking and his cats. And this film follows him after he woke up one day with a headache and an inability to keep food down. Although many people whose movie taste I seriously respect called this one of the best films of last year, I thought it was very well-made, but just a slight eh. Still good, but not best movie of the year quality.

Who Killed the Electric Car? is another frustrating documentary about reasonable things being destroyed by big corporations and the government in cahoots, this time about how GM built an electric car that could have gone 300 miles between recharges, but was sabotaged by GM and a government trying to keep the old internal combustion engine industry going. And replace one destructive engine with a less destructive but far more inefficient one (hydrogen fuel cells). Why couldn't we just have electric cars? That would be awesome. Also: Mel Gibson's beard was awesome. If only he weren't a crazy person.

Art School Confidential felt like a satire of art schools in search of a plot. The murder plot didn't feel like it worked nearly as well as the parts about how stupid and ridiculous art school can be. Art may be subjective (de gustibus non est disputandum and all), but some art is bad. Objectively.

Death in Venice I just didn't like very much, as it was a movie about a pedophilic composer who is dying. It looks gorgeous though. Luchino Visconti can make a beautiful film, but sorry, I just didn't feel it.

The Leopard has Burt Lancaster and Alain Delon playing Sicilian aristocrats struggling to find their place in a unifying Italy in the 1860s. I'd complain, except that it's Burt Lancaster and Alain Delon. Who are great actors. It was pretty long, and the battle scenes were a little confusing (I had trouble telling white people apart! They were all wearing the same orange uniforms! And the Italians weren't diving!), but the use of color was outstanding, and the unification of Italy is really an under-covered aspect of history in American high schools. Because I remember it as maybe two days where we discussed that and the unification of Germany together.

Street Fight is especially interesting to me, due to the fact that I heard my two of my bosses in the movie (and another former coworker as well). And that the fight for the soul of black community in 2002 was between Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson on one side and Spike Lee and Cornel West on the other. Now, as a young white liberal Jewish man, who could I possibly be more in favor of? Ignoring the fact that it's a 32 year old Rhodes scholar/Stanford football star who has worked to improve Jewish-black relations vs an old crusty vulgar corrupt dude who votes enormous pay raises for himself, Spike Lee and Cornel West are pretty awesome, and Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson have this tendency to say anti-Semitic things and not be awesome at all. Although I knew the ending beforehand, it was disgusting to see just how terrible Sharpe James was in his attempts to ratfuck Cory Booker. Just goes to show that The Wire is capable of being an accurate representation of not just the drug trade, or stevedoring, or the schools (and soon to be the media), they got local politics just right as well.

Reds is a very long film, and just reminds me of how Warren Beatty has so much talent, and has squandered so much over his career. You have great films like Bonnie & Clyde and McCabe & Mrs. Miller, and crap like Town & Country (a movie that's supposed to be so bad, I'm tempted to see it, even though I know I'll hate myself in the morning). The movie is so long that it can't fit on one DVD. I bet they could have though, it's only 194 minutes long. The cast is full of famous people, from Beatty, Diane Keaton, and Jack Nicholson (acting!) to Edward Hermann, Paul Sorvino, M. Emmet Walsh, Max Wright, Maureen Stapleton, and even Gene Hackman in a small role. Could have had about an hour or so cut. I'm not sure why all those interviews were included in the film, most of them were just duplicating what was shown in the film proper.

Pushing Daisies & 30 Rock

I finally watched last week's Pushing Daisies, a show that is the best show of the new season. This episode was about dog breeders and polygamists. The main dog-breeder polygamist, though, was Joel McHale (of The Soup fame). Which was awesome. As was Emerson Cod's Vertigo dream sequence. And the almost constant dog puns. Seriously, there is no scripted show on TV that makes me as happy as this one. I just grin from start to finish. But also, 30 Rock is completely freakin' awesome. I hate you media companies for the future delay in new awesome TV (and the current lack of late night TV). Give the writers what they want.

I will write up lots of stuff sometime soonish.

The Pipettes at Sonar 11/11

I have now done a show in Baltimore. Which, considering how long I've been in DC, is actually somewhat surprising. I know Spoon's played there at least once since I've been in DC. I just don't go to Baltimore very often. It's just not a very good city. Full of good TV though.

Setlist (fairly similar to the last time):

Dance & Boogie
Your Kisses Are Wasted on Me
Because It's Not Love (But It's Still a Feeling)
Baby, Don't Leave Me
It Hurts To See You Dance So Well
Tell Me What You Want
Guess Who Ran off with the Milkman
Your Love for Me
Why Did You Stay?
Sex
The Burning Ambition of Early Diuretics
Don't Forget Me
I Love You
True Love Waits Patiently for a Miracle
Judy
One Night Stand (dedicated to Jimmy Eat World, who were playing in the other venue inside Sonar and apparently were nice, even if the entire crowd couldn't believe that, and Riot Becki sounded sarcastic even as she denied being sarcastic)
Dirty Mind
Pull Shapes
--------------
ABC
We Are the Pipettes

They played for only about 55 minutes, a fairly short show, but still they went through almost everything I wanted to hear. I also couldn't find any pictures from the show. I may update at some point later if I do find some.

I think the band may have been tighter than the last time, but I had more fun at the Black Cat. Maybe it was that Smoosh was a far more awesome opener than American Atkins and the Express. Or just Nicole Atkins and the Sea. I certainly enjoyed some of her songs, but they lost me when they covered The Crystal Ship non-ironically. Although she did a fair job with it, she made me no longer able to say that I had never been at a concert where a band never covered The Doors without being insanely drunk, a covers show, or both. The Doors blow, and the worst thing about the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame was the Doors exhibit. Just a waste of everything. Anyway, The Maestro likes them, and after Nicole came out to sit at the merch table for a while before the Pipettes came out, he attempted to get her to sign his copy of their CD (purchased at the show), but failed due to the extremely hard to open plastic packaging. Damn that packaging.

Before the Pipettes actually came out, they were playing 60s novelty songs over the PA system, like The Purple People Eater, and then almost finishing with the Jetsons Theme, but they went into about half of the next song before they finally came out. Gwenno is a redhead now, but Rosay is still the hottest Pipette. And I will almost definitely never change that opinion. Unless I were to have a chat with Riot Becki. Intelligence is hot, y'all. As is looking like a librarian.

I didn't realize that there are still bars and clubs that allow smoking. Been spoiled by being in DC. I spent most of the next day with watery eyes and a very sore throat. That sore throat was only somewhat from yelling along to every song. I can do that when I don't have my throat destroyed by the smoke.

Douchebag of the concert: no, not the enormous guy in the Siragusa jersey who kept moving around in front of me during NAATS (but he didn't bother me at all during the Pipettes), or the couple who moved near me early in the set and then kept moving around in the back, never settling on one place (but that would just be petty). No, the douchebag of the concert: Me. Yes, I apparently can be the douchebag. First off, I was all ready to get extremely pissed at them for not telling me that the tickets were $5 cheaper at Sonar than at 9:30, the original venue. But they were nice and gave a refund at the door. But the main reason is that I was utterly exhausted (shows that end at midnight in Baltimore will do that), and I thought I would get donuts for work the next day. I woke up the next day, and about to leave, decided to move the cash back into my wallet, and realized I didn't have my driver's license. I started to search through my coat, my pants, and the rest of my apartment. Fifteen minutes later, I realized that I was potentially going to be late to work, and left. I finished my book (look for the review for that sometime this week (I'm so behind...)), and went to put my bookmark (interestingly, my Pipettes ticket from June) in the little pocket on my coat, realizing that there was something there, and pulled out my driver's license. Which would have been very hard to replace, as it has my parent's old address. I have no idea how hard it would be for me to deal with having to replace it. I wouldn't have to worry about not being able to drink, the bigger issue would be that I couldn't even go into bars with friends. And since I spent so much time searching for it, turning out to be in the first place I looked (just a different pocket), I didn't have time to get donuts.

Duck Season, The Hidden Blade, Once in a Lifetime, & Three Times

Duck Season was a movie made for my friend Matthew Barney Gumble (hey, I decided to use their pre-approved interwebs handle, if you don't have one already, get one, they're for all awesome people!). Two fourteen year old Mexican kids are left in their apartment with enough money for a pizza and two cokes, and they want to spend the entire day playing Halo. Unfortunately for them, a 16 year old female neighbor shows up wanting to use their oven to bake a cake, the power goes out, the pizza guy shows up 11 seconds late and refuses to leave when they say he showed up 11 seconds late for the 30 minute price guarantee. So one of the boys ends up challenging the pizza deliveryman to a game of Pro Evolution Soccer (Man U v Real Madrid) after the power comes back on. And then the cake burns, the next one is terrible, and some pot brownies are cooked and consumed. To get any more specific would be a shame, because it's a little film that works. It was produced by Alfonso Cuarón, so at least Cuarón's helping to improve Mexican cinema. Not that just by existing and making great movies he hasn't helped enough.

The Hidden Blade made me think at at least a few times in it that I'd seen it before. This was, of course, impossible, but I had déjà vu couple times. And then I realized why: it was directed by Yôji Yamada, who also directed The Twilight Samurai. And is also about a reluctant samurai having to fight someone he doesn't want to. I love that a guy who's made all of these rote films for so many years can make these two great meditations on samurai culture. This one isn't as good as The Twilight Samurai, but it's certainly a far happier ending. And really, when it makes total sense, I love that.

Once in a Lifetime: The Extraordinary Story of the New York Cosmos is a short little documentary about the New York Cosmos, the star team of the NASL, with Pelé, Franz Beckenbauer, Giorgio Chinaglia leading the way to titles and the ruination of soccer as a major sport in this country. Well, that and the overexpansion. But I do wish that more leagues used sudden death and shootouts, as those seem pretty awesome. Not awesome: Giorgio, who comes off as a complete ass. It's a flashy documentary with lots of edits, but the footage includes bits from the games, and you never really realize just how amazing they were until you see them doing those incredible things on a pitch. Interesting for those who want to see soccer footage and people arguing about their recollections of events.

Three Times starts with Qi Shu playing snooker in 60s fashion while Smoke Gets in Your Eyes plays in 1966. Well, in case you were wondering, that is all you have to have to make me interested in a film. That was also, by far, the best of the three sections in this film about love in 1966, 1911, and 2005 in Taiwan from Hsiao-hsien Hou, who also directed Qi Shu in Millenium Mambo, and again coaxes a multilayered performance from the former Category III actress. I think I wasn't familiar enough with the history of Taiwan to understand the backstory that probably was the basis for the timing of the earlier two segments. Well, it's quite possible (and likely, based on Wikipedia and a line about the Wuchang Uprising) that 1911 was picked due to its importance to Taiwanese history, but 1966 doesn't seem to have any relevance. And given the anachronistic use of Rain and Tears (a 1968 song from Aphrodite's Child, Vangelis's band (before going solo and scoring Chariots of Fire and Blade Runner among others)), it could have been set in 1968 and not had a problem. Or maybe there's a personal reason for it. But a soldier going off to be a soldier and then coming back to search for the pool hall girl he fell in love with in one day and then travelling all over Taiwan (I imagine, my knowledge of Taiwanese geography is even rougher than my knowledge of Taiwanese history) looking for her is right up my hopeless romantic alley. The other two, 1911's concubine trainer and the journalist and 2005's epileptic bisexual musician and photographer, just aren't as good. As an unrepentent lover of all things Wong Kar-Wai, the obvious parallels with his period pieces didn't hurt my appreciation for 1966.