notice to the academy
damn straight.
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Sunday, December 21, 2003
sensationalized sentimentalism
Due respect to those who have suffered during and in the aftermath of the September 11th terrorist attacks and to those attempting to heal, but some of the subsequent sentimentalism has been some of the most ridiculous I’ve ever witnessed.
First it was "freedom fries", then "Homeland" security and now the Freedom Tower? Please. What is that supposed to mean? Okay, maybe I’m a being overly cynical, but Freedom Tower? September 11th Memorial Towers? Or perhaps, I don’t know, um The World Trade Center? I don’t know, I just find the whole “Freedom” everything just stupid. I say a petition should be circulated to rename the tower and revoke the naming rights of whatever committee decided on such a name, and possibly beat them with Freedom Sticks™.
reassessing the king
Upon further review of The Return of the King, I believe the absence of the Scouring of the Shire was a great call. It would have been too much to the ending of the films and I think would have been completely out of place. I know it was vital to demonstrate the change in the returning hobbits, but I think the non-event return featuring the four of them sitting in the pub unnoticed was much more effective. And despite the “multiple” endings, the storyline endings seemed a bit hurried. I’m betting that some of that will be remedied in the extended version. Which, by the way, it is rumored to be a whopping 270 mins!!!! Four and half hours of ROTK goodness!! Oh man, I’m salivating already. Excellent.
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Saturday, December 20, 2003
the king has returned
Happy Holidays everyone!! Yes, I am now home enjoying good times with friends and family. I feel kingly indeed.
I got the chance to catch the final installment in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Return of the King. Bloody brilliant. Peter Jackson deserves best director and this... these films deserve best picture. The "Academy" best recognize! Simply put, what Jackson and his crew accomplished with this series of films is why cinema exists. Taken as a whole, I believe this work will go down in cinematic history as the crowning achievement. Definitively, a paragon of film.
Although my favorite remains The Fellowship of the Ring , The Return of the King is right up there and at times, held me literally breathless. The realization of Minas Tirith as Gandalf hasten to speak with Denenthor, In-credible. The Battle on the Pelennor Fields, hands down the best battle sequences I have ever seen (rivaling even that of Saving Private Ryan and Braveheart). And just give Bernard Hill an Oscar for his performance as Theoden. Yeah, he was that good.
Yet what brought the film down for me was the unnecessarily long "tear" scenes and possibly, the absence of the scouring of the Shire. But I mean, yeah emotion and all that stuff, but damn, how many "one tear down the cheek close ups" did we need? Also, if you could get past the tendency (juvenile, yes, but unavoidable) to label certain scenes "somewhat" homosexual, there were some pretty affecting scenes showing the power of great friendships. And for those of us lucky enough to have such friendships of our own, the scenes are that all the more moving.
At any rate, thank you Mr. Jackson, thank you.
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Tuesday, December 16, 2003
forces of nature suck
A confluence of stress, a depressed immune system and fluctuating weather temperatures have once again left their mark.
Imagine the amalgamation of a rash, mosquito bite and a monster zit. That, my friends, is planted squarely between my eyebrows, looming just above my left eye. I can see it looming. All nice and conspicuous like. It’s kind of embarrassing. Stupid body. I got some of these in college and once in the exact spot, though at the time I thought they were something else. Let’s just say traditional methods of termination proved disastrous. Definitely wasn’t cool.
Oh well. I’ll just have to wait it out, take a breather maybe, and hope it goes away before some of its buddies show up. It’s ironic that these indicators of stress only add the very stress that brought them on, thus a truly vicious circle. Maybe a trip home for the holidays will do the trick.
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Saturday, December 13, 2003
thank you, may I have another
Sometimes my best movie experiences come during fits of insomnia. Those semi-lucid phases when the mind refuses to yield to the primeval subconscious, and insists on filling your thoughts with questions like how many people are having sex at this very moment. Though such times are frustrating, in no small part due to the fact that I’m not having sex at such particular moments, they do yield some of my most exquisite cinematic experiences. I don’t know why, but for some reason films just seem to resonate during my bouts of sleeplessness. There’s a special place in my heart for Some Kind of Wonderful, Dream Lover and Dark City because of it. Recently added to the list is Secretary, a disturbingly appealing tale of love, to put it mildly. As usual James Spader rocks. And now I’ve got a thing for Maggie Gyllenhaal. There’s a certain je ne sais quoi. It’s along the same lines as my fascination with Thora Birch and Jena Malone.
Anyway, Secretary isn’t for most people. Happily though, I’m not most people. It’s a good flick and I suggest you check it out if you’re in the mood for a bit of romance way off the beaten (heh, sorry) path, but not so far off as say True Romance (whacked for sure, but cool as all get out). If nothing else, check out Gyllenhaal’s curiously haunting performance.
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Wednesday, December 10, 2003
the danger in overthinking
Okay, okay, a little time has passed since my initial spooge over Angels in America, and apologies for not providing my adoring audience a little context. Religion, ethics, life, human nature, human frailty, our future… the end game! Fortunately, I missed out on all the hype. So my enjoyment went up by a factor of twenty-three. Unfortunately, the layover has not aided my effort to calm the tempest of thoughts charged by Sunday night’s inaugural viewing. But I shall at least attempt to string together some coherent threads of deliberation. And as a PSA this is going to be another long rambling post, so get some coffee maybe a sack lunch and see to the w.c. before you journey down this stream.
Let me preface, like I mentioned in my previous post, for me, this was an introduction to the amazing work of Tony Kushner, as I’d suspect it was for a sizable portion of those smart or curious enough to tune into HBO’s production and not as intimate with the theatre as um, those who are. For me, my ignorance of this work of art comes from youth (the events of the play and play itself happened while I was still sporting Transformer tightie-whities), a complete lack of theatre knowledge, and a still limited view of current and historical political events and the works that cover them (this probably being a product of mediocre secondary education and financial and time constraints during the collegiate years). So much history, so little time… isn’t that something. We are all in such a hurry to get somewhere; we forget to look behind us to see if we’ve been there before. It’s like our entire way of life, every detail about it and all its “modern” sensibilities have been built on a mountain of history, but since we exist at the apex we’re barely able to fully examine the very foundation that makes us who were, that makes this time what it is. Look at that, I’m already vectoring on tangents. Goodness, this could take awhile.
Back to the rhetoric at hand. While watching Kushner’s play unfold (btw, in all it’s HD glory), all hundred billion or so neurons were all a tizzy trying to pound away at the metaphorical and philosophical, with some ethics and morality thrown in for good measure. No doubt the ecstasy of my mind in overdrive trying to contemplate the deeper meaning conveyed in the story was beyond gratifying, however, the typical crash leaves me with a mind all a flutter with questions that are incapable of answers or ideas that are too abstract to fully grasp. Then headaches ensue. I think it was the extreme wit of the writing and oft emotional moments in the production (if not personal to you, sure made you feel like you were experiencing the emotion, if only by playing a what-if scenario yourself) that really got me flowing. I’m constantly awed by the power of an artist. Be it playwright, poet, painter, musician, novelist or actor, their abilities to create; to render the abstract or the truth in a real and affecting form is just… I haven’t got the words. It must verge on being godlike. I’m so jealous. I want to be creative. I want be an artist.
Ahem. Obviously, one of poignant points in the production was that of the dawning of AIDS and our country’s approach, or rather, reluctance to come to terms with the epidemic during the Reagan administration. You can only hope that such rampant bigotry and fear during that time would die a much deserved death, but a quick glance around at events today and we’re really no further than we were twenty years ago. Probably, not even forty, fifty, a hundred or a thousand years ago. One of the truisms uttered during the Priors scene, er, before the arrival of the Messenger was that everything old is new again. The 20th century indeed feels old. The 21st century isn’t any better. Don’t things feel stagnant; just a dolled up rehash of what’s gone before us? We’re still fighting over land, religions are still waging war, civil rights, hell – basic human rights, are still only for those in the majority, and we are still ruled by a plutocracy. It’s like we’re gearing up for the same old thing all the time. Round and round we go, generation after generation, era after era, how many times must we cycle through history? Maybe it’s just the way it is. It’s our nature, you know, the whole circle of life. See, kind of makes things pointless right? Curse our evolution, why can’t we still be amoebas content to swim around in biological goop blissfully ignorant of such things like self-awareness. Yeah I said evolution, because the idea we just sprouted out of an omniscient, omnipotent Imagination just doesn’t sit well with me. Which brings us to another issue tickling my lobes.
The curiosity of Religion. Were did this gem from? Was it really espoused to us via the minds men in touch with the Creator? Or could it be merely the manifestation of natural order in a form more palatable to a more complex animal than say, ducks. I mean in nature birds follow in migratory patterns, right? Ever watch schools of fish travel? And why the hell don’t salmon say “screw it” and forget about swimming upstream? Everything in nature is governed by some law that states birds fly south, fish travel in schools, salmon swim upstream, etc and that they serve a purpose in the end to maintain natural order. No, I haven’t cracked, I’m just saying, what if religion or, for that matter, philosophy is nothing more than the manifestation of natural guidelines on how we should interact in order to maintain the delicate balance in nature? Not edicts thundered from upon High, but the evolution of human interaction over the millennia that has culminated in a structure too complex to rely on mere DNA to carry its instructions so it had to be created in an environment more conducive to our evolving consciousness. Sorry Aquinas, but what if reason isn’t Ugh, hold on, I’m getting a headache again. We’re gonna have to continue this at another time, which I’m positive we will. Perhaps I should really take a look at more of the authorities on the topic. But then how much of this tripe would be original discovery versus a nonsensical commingling of others? Well, since everything old is new I guess it doesn’t really matter then huh?
Also, next on the stunning abstract insights provided by the viewing of Angels in America; self-loathing, self-awareness and its discordance with religious dogma, and the rationalization and justification of our weaknesses due to indoctrinated mores. Oh and dancing monkeys too! I like dancing monkeys.
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Sunday, December 07, 2003
Angels in America
Sweet Mary Mother of God. HBO's production of Tony Kushner's Pulitzer prize winning play was most unexpected. Far from what I first thought. My first experience with this and I am amazed. Speechless. So many thoughts running through my head I had to pour them out immediately. I came here to blog this experience right before the credits could start rolling, but the stream of consciousness that flowed was too much. Must calm down. Geez, I'm trembling...
suckage
a back up was nighDamn, I was just thinking, you know I should back up some files. But no, the data goblins had other notions. Gone: my collection of college essays, my portfolio of Photoshop and After Effects works, and the entire photo catalogue of my 2001 epic road trip. Yes, much swearing ensued and the throwing of things proved only mildly cathartic. Ahh, but such is the lesson you learn if you do not back up. Computers will be the downfall of us all.
spinning chronicle no more;
the perished hard drive
drink up me ‘arties, yo ho
I finally caught Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl this weekend. In case you’re wondering, I’m about three to six months off of enjoying new movies since I detest going to the theaters nowadays. At any rate, wow what a performance by Depp. Johnny Depp’s Captain Jack Sparrow was absolutely mesmerizing. So much so, I may just purchase this jewel of jolly good fun. As for the sequel, if it’s just Depp’s character gallivanting around for two hours, I’ll be a really bad egg too.
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Friday, December 05, 2003
you can't beat the man
You really can’t, unless you’re Amish. It was brought to my attention today that the major cell phone carriers are charging all of their customers to help subsidize the carriers' cost to offer number portability (WLNP). This small “tax” ($1.10 for my Sprint cell) is on top of the fees they charge if you wish to port your number to another cell phone company. On my current bill, and those of last four months, I have been assessed a “Federal Wireless Number Pooling and Portability” charge. Nice. But I suppose you can’t blame the wireless companies, they didn’t want this portability option and it’s estimated that it will cost them a billion or so to offer this and another five hundred million to maintain number portability. Yeah, you already know they aren’t gonna eat those costs. Let’s see, say an average of $1 for the tax, how many wireless subscribers – say 135 million, that times twelve months… hrm, $1.62 billion, give or take a few hundred million, in the first year of collecting the “tax”. Seems like
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Thursday, December 04, 2003
the bliss of concrete and exhaust
There are times in the morning while walking to the office, when a hint of something I long for drifts in the air. As I trudge my way through the parking garage, the confluence of pollution, the crisp morning air and concrete usher me to my time in the city of light. Gay Paree! Not to say that I remember Paris as a polluted, confining stone jungle, which in some ways it is, but that in my mind, the right mixture of smell, sensation and imagination remind me of that most wonderful, wonderful place. Oh how I long to go back. Un jour mes amis, un jour.
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Monday, December 01, 2003
absolutely fantasmic
An immense heartfelt thank-you goes out to the Cardenas family for sharing an incredible Thanksgiving vacation with a displaced taciturn homebody such as me. Thankfully, my sister, a loquacious antidote to my reticence, was able to join in some of the festivities. Unfortunately, she had to leave prematurely due to obligations and a schmuck manager. Boooooooo. But, for five days, in the land of mice, mermaids and magic known as Walt Disney World, I was fortunate enough to spend time with people so exquisitely wonderful, you’d be lucky to meet them, let alone know them. It was a beautiful thing and I am sad that such things are not everlasting.
I was reunited with my best friend and his lovely wife (you know them as the Surfaces), her hilarious brother John and his charming wife, Becky. I was also introduced to the talented Daniel, Debbie’s cousin, his divine wife, Donna, and their awfully precocious son, Devon, who is so incredibly cute your sugar levels skyrocket on sight. And the stars on top of the whole affair, Rudolph and Catherine, Debbie’s splendid parents. It really was a magical time and I can’t thank them enough.
Yet, despite the goodtime had by all, I could not suppress the melancholy nagging of being the odd wheel. I feel a bit guilty and a little ashamed for thinking such self-flagellating thoughts, but such is consciousness, no? Make no mistake, I was thoroughly included and made to feel like a part of the family, absolutment, but I couldn’t help slipping into thoughts of just how alone I really was. Being the caboose on a four couple train helps illustrate the point. Trailing that train through the magic kingdom full of couples really drives the point home... Yeah, I don’t know what my problem is either.
Nonetheless, this Thanksgiving was an unforgettable experience and if it couldn’t last in perpetuity, at least the memories can. Again to the family Cardenas, your cordiality is simply marvelous. Indeed, God has blessed you.
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