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May 31, 2004
David Horowitz: Fat or Merely Portly?
You be the judge
Posted by LYT at 2:49 PM | Comments (5)
Dead Soldier Day
I wonder if we're the only country to have two different holidays for army veterans -- one for the dead, and one for the living. Seems odd.
Should I wish people "Happy Memorial Day!" on a day you're supposed to think about young men cut down in their prime? Maybe you shouldn't be happy thinking about that.
There are no casualties of war in my immediate family. The closest I have is my paternal grandfather, Lloyd L. Thompson Jr., who died when I was less than a year old. He lost the use of his arm in WWII. He went on to have a productive life, but the pain of the old wound exacerbated his drinking problem, and quite likely contributed to his death.
Ironically given the wound similarity, my grandmother, Martha Williams Thompson, vowed to live long enough to vote against Bob Dole for president. She succeeded.
I imagine our president will give some kind of speech about sacrifice, which is a concept unknown to him. Pampered and protected all his life, he has no clue. I'm not mad he essentially avoided military service -- that shouldn't be a prerequisite for president -- but that he came from a pro-war family, supported the war, and then had all the strings pulled to keep him safe while going through the motions.
What would I do? I don't know. After 9-11, my mother challenged my position on attacking Afghanistan, the only time in my life I ever supported a war. She asked me if I'd go fight there. I considered it. I really did. I thought more along the lines of assisting in a non-combat role, because frankly I think my mind would be of better use in war than my body. And I am, essentially, opposed to war in almost any circumstance, but we were being attacked, and we had to take out the guys who did it so they wouldn't do it again. Best of bad options.
My father was drafted for Vietnam. He went through boot camp and came to the decision that he could not in good conscience go to war. Risking a court martial, he refused to obey orders, and eventually got an honorable discharge. His good buddy Shelby, who did go to war, came back with all sorts of post-trauma difficulties. Bush has never made a conscientious stand that I can see.
My maternal grandfather, Peter Graham, was an RAF pilot in England and survived a German POW camp. Because Spitfires weren't exactly designed with comfort in mind, he lost much of his hearing as a result of flying one. He is now a retired vicar and a committed pacifist.
I hope Herr Preznit will reflect on this day, and think about what it means to send people into battle before every other option has been exhausted.
Today, I salute my late paternal grandparents; although the war didn't kill them when it happened, it did, in my opinion, inject a little bit of slow poison. Beats the alternative of Nazis ruling the world, but still, again, only the best of bad options.
Here's to those who took the option gladly.
Posted by LYT at 1:09 AM | Comments (3)
May 30, 2004
Exodus
Something's in the air. Way too many cool people I know are either moving away or otherwise making big transitions.
Nancy Rommelman's been talking about leaving L.A. for quite a while now, so she has to follow through or look like a quitter. One journalist who will remain nameless just scored a great job out of town -- he'll be a big fish in a smaller pond for sure, but possibly more influential than he is now.
Kevin Ford and Angela Bettis are leaving, moving to Austin where Kev's low-key film-making style will probably flourish. Dunno how it'll be for Angela getting other movie work, but maybe she'll go back to the live stage.
And then I go over to Jaye's blog, and find that she's calling it quits. This seems to be because of a newfound urgency that life's too short, but I suspect she may miss the outlet. I know I'll miss seeing it (her site inspired this one to a large degree), and those of you who just found out about it are too freakin' late. For those of you who would like to discover a similarly cool blog you probably haven't heard of before, I strongly recommend Dave White, plus-sized gay film critic.
I wonder if blogging as a trend has jumped the shark at this point. I think the novelty has worn off, perhaps, but I also believe it's like any medium, and can be what you make it.
Both sides of my world had festivities last night, and the first was blog-related. Two panels, held at AFI, one of which was about blogging Hollywood, and the other politics.
I'm not going to look at my program as I write this, so some of it may be wrong, though I was totally sober at this party seeing as how I had to drive across town afterwards.
Both panels leaned conservative -- turns out the American Cinema Foundation is a center-right organization dedicated to building understanding between left and right in Hollywood. Maybe that's why such notable press club party regulars as David Poland (at least somewhat liberal) or Jeff Wells (very liberal) weren't on the panel.
Anyway, the panel was Rob Long (TV comedy writer), Allan Mayer (gets celebrities out of trouble), Mike something-or-other (producer?) and Andrew Breitbart ("Matt Drudge's bitch").
I noticed bloated blowhard David Horowitz in the audience. He's one of my very least favorite conservatives. Someone later asked why I didn't throw a pie in his face, to which I responded that Horowitz seems so perennially bitter that I don't think anything I could do or say would make his life worse. I guess conservatives probably feel the same way about Michael Moore, but people on the left don't make as many fat jokes about Big ol' Dave. It's time to start.
CORRECTION BY CATHY BELOW: Apparently a fat Horowitz look-alike, not the real guy. Good thing I didn't use a pie.
Rob Long was very entertaining. As a comedy writer, he oughta be. Mainly he vented about stupid people he'd encountered. Allan came off as "the thoughtful one," and made the great point that one of the problems with media today is that there's too much speculation about motives for things as opposed to just reporting the nuts and bolts of what happens. Bloggers are most guilty of such idle speculation, but so-called political pundits are too (the number of such who imagined that Al Gore was off his medication during a recent speech is the sort of thing that proves Allan's point).
Breitbart didn't seem especially useful -- he stayed on message, that message being "People in other countries hate us because we export entertainment that's offensive." Someone else pointed out that half the world hates us for being immodest libertines, and the other half hates us for being uptight religious nuts, so we must be doing something right. I think Rob said that (he had all the best lines).
RiShawn Biddle, a self-described right-leaning libertarian in the Larry Elder mold, got into it with Breitbart towards the end, and layed a verbal smackdown. RiShawn has been known to post pictures of semi-nude women on his site, so things may have gotten close to home -- he thinks his fellow righties get way too hysterical about liberal Hollywood. I overheard someone else say that even if Hollywood were conservative, it'd still be crap.
Most of the panel talk was about TV rather than the movies. Lucy and Ricky were used as an example of how things change; someone stated that nowadays they'd be considered an interracial couple and be too hot-button for TV. The implication is that they weren't back then, which is false, based on what I've read -- there was much behind-the-scenes disapproval when the show was getting started, but Lucy and Ricky stuck to their guns on casting themselves rather than hiring some white guy to replace Desi. If Oprah Winfrey, for example, wanted to do a sitcom where she had a white or Latin husband, would the networks turn her down if she made it a sticking point? I doubt it.
I wore a T-shirt depicting Bush as Satan just to raise some hackles. Cathy Seipp tried to block it from view with her hand, then said it should be turned upside-down (what good would that do? Maybe she meant inside-out). All the folks working the event (at the food table and ticket desk) liked the shirt a lot. I'm sure for many people it reinforced the notion of irrational Bush-hatred (I have plenty of rational reasons for disliking him, but no need to list them again here).
Martin Devon said it was OK to wear the shirt so long as I vote for the prez in the fall. He promised that Bush still had a few months to win me over. I suggested Bush would have to cure cancer for that to happen. Martin thinks I still wouldn't vote for him even if that happened. Curing cancer would be a damned big deal, though. If we had a president that smart, however, his name would not be Bush.
Cathy's daughter "Cecile" [not her real name, but it's almost become interchangeable] was working over time to transcribe the panels and interview all in attendance. I told her she needed to help Martin find some right-wing friends, as he always finds himself surrounded by liberals. At one point she asked me something like "Peppers or bananas?" I thought that a rather odd question, then realized she was talking about the feathers on my back tattoo. I couldn't really take my shirt off then and there to show the whole thing -- I do have the mildest sense of propriety sometimes.
I had to leave before the blogger panel. Roger Simon, seeing me leave, loudly said, "Oh, you don't wanna listen to us OLD people going on and on!"
I responded, "I'm sure I won't be able to find a transcript of the event anywhere!"
Based on some of the accounts I've read, Matt Welch brought some much-needed perspective by pointing out that bloggers really aren't that important, certainly not as important as many of them think. No crazed Muslims attacked Charles Johnson.
I was hoping someone would ask Mickey Kaus and/or Roger why they feel the need to create a fictional "editor" persona to go off on needless, self-effacing tangents within their posts [you mean like this? -- ed. Yes, exactly like that, you fictitious dork]. As I've said before, I like Mickey, but find his writing to be so filled with such tangents -- not to mention random boldfacing -- that reading it feels like work.
Cathy, who was moderator, apparently made some remark about commenters generally being respectful on peoples' personal sites. I think folks like me have spoiled her. Chances are, that on any site with major traffic that allows comments, the only time you won't see hateful feedback is when the moderator actively deletes it on a regular basis.
Anyway, off I went to Venice to the house of Matthew Shebesta, for a party celebrating the brief return to L.A. of one Gregory Alan Hitman Sweet D Crum. He's heavier than when he left, but West Virginia food will do that to a man. He claims people love watching him eat and that he can't disappoint them. Greg works nights sorting files for a trucking company.
Matt's a vegetarian, so I feared for the worst vis-a-vis the food on hand, but it was pretty good, mostly using roasted peppers and mushrooms as a base, and powdered parmesan.
Chris Sivertson was the only other member of the 1321 crew in the house, and he didn't seem to know many people. I introduced him to ReJeKt, which I'm sure was just a delightful experience for him.
Best of all was the surprise appearance of Greg's and my former college roommate Omar Savoy, now with shaved head and an eight-year-old daughter. He has my card now, so O.J., you'd best be emailing an' shit. He's headed of to Peru shortly on a spiritual journey, and says he's gonna try to send me some psychic vibes.
I got pretty seriously wasted over the course of the night, and was surprised, when I started coming back to full control of my faculties, that the sun was rising.
I drank a Red Bull, my first ever. Dunno why people think it tastes bad -- reminded me of SweetTarts. Drove home around 7:30 a.m., and heard a liberal talk radio show -- on KROQ! Some guy named Doc. And yes, it was truly liberal...The host and his callers were all to the left of John Kerry. This was weird. But good.
Posted by LYT at 3:10 PM | Comments (4)
May 28, 2004
The Cross I Baehr
Movieguide's in fine form today. Some highlights:
"drinking and driving not severely enough rebuked"
"Also, the movie’s final minutes bring an embarrassingly literal environmentalist message spoken by a regretful, chagrined president, which also mocks U.S. foreign policy and, unconsciously perhaps, accepts the Communist invention of the concept of the “Third World,” a term invented by Marxists like Fidel Castro so that they could gain control of smaller countries in Africa, Asia, and Latin America"
"references to Malcolm X, a leader in the false religious movement of the Black Muslims"
"the major battles of the Civil Rights Movement had already been won, only to be betrayed by the politically correct, Marxist, heretical politics of the young leaders who took over Martin Luther King’s mantle."
(I noticed last night that Amazon has several books by Ted Baehr in stock, including one that collects all his "reviews" from the past decade. I'm curiously tempted to get some, since regular bookstores have better sense than to carry them.)
Posted by LYT at 3:48 PM | Comments (1)
This week's CityBeat review
#PXL This 13#
It’s been a long time since I yelled, “Shut the fuck up!” at the screen this many times, but the latest festival of shorts made with the Fisher Price PXL-2000 may have brought out the worst in me. Initially designed as a mass-market toy, then reclaimed post-cancellation as an avant-garde tool, the PXL-2000 ought to be a neato tool in the hands of true artists.
Unfortunately, it seems to have mostly found its way into the hands of amateurs who point it at whatever’s nearby: A guy skateboarding (“30th St.”), a horse (“Horse”), some dude walking around a metropolitan area (“Downtown Odyssey”), a guy singing a duet with an onscreen projection of himself (“Kukulele Cubed”), etc. Some of these movies look like they could have been made by a child, and in fact two were made by an eight-year-old -- “About Flowers,” in which youngster Juniper Woodbury talks about flowers and their seeds; and “Marker,” in which she urges her audience to yell the word “marker.”
The best of the bunch are oddly retro. Dwight Swanson utilizes Amy Fisher’s book-on-tape to create “Victim! The Amy Fisher Story,” augmented by his shooting of haunting suburban images, while John Humphrey’s “Pee-wee Goes to Prison” uses the hard-to-find $Pee-wee’s Playhouse$ action figures, and some spot-on voice impersonations, to hilariously depict Pee-wee Herman’s trial and imprisonment on trumped-up drug charges.
A couple try for political satire, with less than stellar results: “Neo-con Hybrids” uninterestingly suggests that Bill O’Reilly and Sean Hannity are alien spawn, while “Asscroft” loses whatever points it makes on our current attorney general by excessively reveling in the utterance of the phrase “Ass-croft.”
Posted by LYT at 12:09 AM | Comments (0)
May 27, 2004
Viva das Vagus
Jaye is about ready to unleash a CD upon the world...and has a Quicktime trailer for it HERE
As a side note...many of the tunes you'll hear in this file are the very same we played in the car up in Montreal on THE WOODS set.
Posted by LYT at 5:06 AM | Comments (2)
LOL
I don't know how many of my readers read the more well-known U.S. political bloggers (Kaus, Instapundit, etc.), but this parody post of all those guys is hilarious if you do.
(heads-up from Tom Tomorrow)
P.S. Kaus is a nice guy in person, but his blog has so many tangents that I get very frustrated reading it.
Posted by LYT at 4:53 AM | Comments (0)
The LYT summer movie preview is here
It's running in SF Weekly this week. In two parts:
PART ONE: Introductory essay. Due to space limitations, I really didn't get to say very much in this part, and it ain't my best work by a longshot.
PART TWO: mini-previews of this summer's films, by me and Gregory Weinkauf with all of our trademark attitude. As with last year, I'll give a free shirt and DVD to anyone who correctly identifies which one of us wrote which. (Hint: the division of labor on this piece was about 50-50, but, after deletions, probably not exactly so)
But wait! There's more review stuff this week:
Lili Taylor lives A Slipping Down Life
and a quick take on A Foreign Affair
Now you know why blogging's been sparse.
Posted by LYT at 2:13 AM | Comments (0)
May 24, 2004
Human Traffic
The Shrek 2 post below is generating a record number of comments. People feel passionately about their ogre.
Most of the feedback has been great, even from those who somehow manage to disagree with my righteous opinion. But one or two posts raised red flags.
Specifically, one unjustifiably accused me of plagiarism, and another featured racist, Uncle Remus-type content. The plagiarism guy got a warning, and the racial guy's post was deleted.
I don't want to be a tight-ass about all this, but it has caused me to modify the posting guidelines somewhat. Please look at them again.
I'm not opposed to anyone expressing ideas, but deliberate (unintellectual) provocation and borderline slander aren't appropriate in most settings. If you feel like you must express views like that, back them up, otherwise they'll be deleted. Or get your own site.
(why do I get the feeling that any second now, ReJeKt's gonna verbally raise the metaphorical middle finger in the comments below?)
Posted by LYT at 12:07 AM | Comments (7)
May 23, 2004
Christianity, the "real" religion of peace
If it weren't for the actual pain caused, THIS would be pretty funny. As is, it's simply ironic.
Posted by LYT at 2:50 AM | Comments (2)
May 22, 2004
And the Unnamed Feeling
The Unnamed Project consumes my mind, yet making headway on it is perhaps the most difficult task of my writing career. Needless to say, it's easier to write blog posts about why I'm not writing the other thing as quickly as I'd like.
See, The Unnamed Project (which actually does have a name, just not one I'm going to tell you) is based on an old script of mine that I wrote at the very end of my Sunset 5 tenure. It has a director attached now (not Lucky McKee). No studio yet, and here's why:
The director wants a rewrite. A big one. We're talking all but five scenes to be changed completely, with an essentially new story from the same basic premise. Once I complete this task, THEN we shop it around.
I have no quarrel with that. The story I wrote still exists, and I can read it, or allow anyone else to read it, at any time. There's the script, in a box on the floor -- check it out.
I even know what the new story is, as me and the director hashed it out over chicken wraps. That doesn't make things less daunting.
See, I have to take characters who already exist in one reality for me, and alter their behavior. Their names and appearances will be familiar, but now they must evolve differently, following new paths. That's no easy thing to do well.
The Internet taunts me, diverting me constantly. I'm almost obsessive compulsive about allowing it to take me away from the task at hand. Must check...see if new comments added to friends' blogs in past 5 minutes! Why can't I be this fanatical about the task at hand, or about exercise?
Answer: because those things are hard. I've made a living from writing. I assume this means I'm good at it. Even looking at the worst script I've ever written (a proposed episode for a half-hour softcore porno about an invisible man; not my concept, I assure you, but it was very nearly my first script sale), I find it entertaining (albeit naive -- virgins really shouldn't write porn). So whatever comes out of this process should at least be readable. But the pressure is on, and there's no money as yet.
And just because one is good at something doesn't make it easy. I hate the actual physical process of writing. Love the ideas. Hate the hashing out of them on paper, or monitor, whatever.
I think I'd be more inspired if I could go on vacation, and maybe get laid some. I tried for a vacation on the Vegas trip, but that wasn't relaxing. I'm going back to Vegas in June for the premiere of my feature acting debut in UNTIL THE NIGHT at CineVegas.
But I wanna get out of town NOWWWW. And I can't yet. I should have gone this past week, I suppose.
Oh well, time to force the thoughts again.
Posted by LYT at 3:04 PM | Comments (2)
Review quick takes
An all-star cast plays poker in Shade
and
A man on the run hangs out with morbid Jews in The Burial Society
Posted by LYT at 1:15 AM | Comments (0)
May 21, 2004
George Lucas at it again
He added a bunch of stupid digital crap to the original Star Wars movies. He added a digital sunset to American Graffiti. Now, he's added a bunch of CGI to THX-1138 as well. None of these movies will ever be available again in their original theatrical forms.
Lucas reminds me of many USC alumni who spend lots of money after they graduate to "fix" their student films, rather than just fucking moving on.
But the THX announcement did prompt one of the funniest posts I've ever seen on Ain't It Cool:
"Lucas should bring out a special edition of his face. One where he has a neck."
Posted by LYT at 3:38 PM | Comments (1)
Michael Moore's new movie will kill Jews
According to Movieguide, anyway:
"An anti-capitalist movie screened at the Cannes Film Festival recently, along with Michael Moore’s anti-American diatribe, FAHRENHEIT 9/11, will result in more murders of American civilians and Jews, like the brutal beheading of Daniel Berg, predicted Dr. Tom Snyder, editor of MOVIEGUIDE®,
'The leftists at Cannes are going gaga over these two movies, according to the Drudge Report,' Dr. Snyder said.
He noted that a Boston College study last year showed that the negative picture of America in many Hollywood films is leading to an increased hatred of Americans overseas.
'More hatred means more violence against Americans and Jews, and those who support them,' Dr. Snyder concluded. 'These movies are propaganda films.'"
So, in other words: Michael Moore's movie accuses Jews of killing Jesus, and might induce violence in susceptible people...Oh wait, no, that's the movie you ENDORSE.
Dr. Tom Snyder is a creepy little bastard who always shows up to press screenings alone, and is shunned by all others in attendance, as far as I've observed anyway.
Movieguide also explains why the prisoner torture in Iraq happened:
Hmm. I'm 29, and didn't have the Internet until I graduated college. And I never saw S&M on TV.
But of course, you knew that. When it comes to S&M, I'd have to say the most readily available example comes from the image of a guy who has nails driven through his palms because he loves you so much.
Posted by LYT at 1:46 AM | Comments (3)
May 20, 2004
Seeing other people...
I know some of you probably enjoy hearing about celebrity sightings, especially if you live in a town without them. I think I'm gonna keep those to the Message Board in most instances, as a bonus incentive for you guys to keep checking it.
If the celeb factors in to a larger event somehow, like last year's fundraiser at Ben Affleck's house, you'll read about it here. But if I see Dennis Franz coming out of a Brentwood sandwich place and nothign else happens, it's going on the board.
Which category, you ask? Depends what they're famous for. Today I saw a wrestler, so that goes in the Rasslin' category.
Posted by LYT at 6:51 PM | Comments (0)
May 19, 2004
The latest conservative commentator
You're probably gonna be quite surprised...
(can't wait for Fox News to pick up on this and give him his own show)
And HERE'S A SAMPLE of one of this "pundit's" essays, in which he advises everyone to punch a liberal in the new year.
How the childhood heroes do fall.
Posted by LYT at 8:19 PM | Comments (1)
Not so Shrektacular
I just paid for my first movie since Montreal, and I don't feel like I got my money's worth. The way people have been talking, I thought SHREK 2 would be better than the original. It isn't even as good.
Granted, it's hard to come up with a brand new and appealing story featuring the same characters. But although Mike Myers and Cameron Diaz seem more relaxed and natural in their roles (Eddie Murphy doesn't; rather he comes off like he's trying to shout down everyone else at all times), the script seems forced.
For a more R-rated analogy -- SHREK 1 was KILL BILL VOL. 2, a pastiche of familiar references that nonetheless managed to spoof or subvert them while succeediung on its own terms. SHREK 2 is KILL BILL VOL. 1, an empty pastiche of references bereft of heart. To its credit, however, there are no Smash Mouth songs this time.
But there are songs that are mind-numbingly familiar and elbow-to-the-ribs obvious. When Shrek and Fiona enter her parents' realm of Far Far Away (a medieval style Beverly Hills/Hollywood hybrid, complete with Angelyne billboard joke that no-one outside of L.A. will get), "Funky Town" plays on the soundtrack. When one of the lead characters undergoes a magical transformation, a mediocre cover of David Bowie's "Changes" cranks up on cue. During the climactic crisis scene, one of the characters actually performs "I Need a Hero" (double penalty points since that song is rightfully "owned" by another movie, namely FOOTLOOSE). And if you thought "I'm a Believer" was a cheeseball song to use in part one, just wait until you hear...
"Living la Vida Loca"
I wish I were kidding. Recall that this song was lame and overplayed by the time it was performed live at George W. Bush's inauguration!
In the first Shrek, there were references aplenty, but usually with an added punch that didn't depend on wink-wink, nudge-nudge. For instance: In the amusement park, where Donkey activates a machine that launches into a frenzied musical number performed by wooden dools. It was obviously a riff on Disney's "It's a Small World" ride (for all we know, that'll probably get its own movie soon. It had better star lots of midgets), but the song was manic enough and witty enoguh that it could have stood alone as a gag without that knowledge.
Contrast that with Shrek 2's musical number featuring the Fairy Godmother (Jennifer Saunders), as she brings clothes and furniture to life in a spoof of Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast. Saunders sings so fast it's tough to make out whether the words are witty or not, and the talking furniture looks cool but isn't actually funny until the song ends, Fiona says she doesn't need all that stuff, and the tables and such slink away saying things like, "Fine, we know when we're not wanted" or words to that effect.
Shrek's main conceit was "What if all the fairy tale characters existed in one world, but behaved like real people?" Thus we got a gingerbread man tortured by milk, and Pinnocchio referred to as a possessed toy. Shrek 2's central conceit is "medieval Flintstones." You know, where the Flintstones would have a prehistoric Las Vegas and make it Rock Vegas, Shrek 2 has a Barney's of New York store called "Barney's of Old York." That kind of thing, over and over.
It is probably inherently tougher to make a movie about the challenges of the first year of marriage than it is about finding one's true love, but it can be done, even as a sequel -- see ROMANCING THE STONE and its successor THE JEWEL OF THE NILE. There's little done plot-wise here that wasn't already done better in MEET THE PARENTS -- the parents in this case being voiced by John Cleese and Julie Andrews, who theoretically should be funnier than Robert De Niro and whoever played his wife. Theoretically.
Rupert Everett's Prince Charming is a wasted opportunity as a villain, overshadowed at every turn by Saunders. John Lithgow's great Farquaad is sorely missed.
Antonio Banderas is the only thing that saves the movie in any way. Puss in Boots-as-Zorro is an inherently funny conceit, and Banderas wisely plays it completely deadpan, a welcome relief from Eddie Murphy's constant blathering. There's even a timely Garfield reference -- note that this puss looks far more convincing than that upcoming CG atrocity. (Viewers of THE MONSTER CLUB may find Puss in Boots particularly amusing, given that film's scene with a cat, scored to Mexican guitar.)
The first Shrek had super-detailed, hard-to-find tie-in action figures from McFarlane Toys. The sequel has mass-produced, bland-looking neon things packed with accessories that literally stink.
An apt analogy when it comes to comparing the films themselves.
Posted by LYT at 6:07 PM | Comments (64)
What -- A difference a year makes?
I was curious to test the theory proposed by sean and ghostboy below that I've come a long way in a year. So I went back into the archives, skipped over the Marnye funeral posts, and checked out what I was writing about.
Turns out I junked my old car almost exactly a year ago. And I was complaining about how Luke Ford never writes about me.
I remember now too that it was the debut of my "handprint" hairdo, as my hair grew back in after I had shaved it. Don't remember why I did that (the shaving I mean; the handprint thing was just to do something different).
I also remember that the Black Belt Jones DVD came out shortly before Marnye's death. That means I've done four DVD commentaries in the past year.
I shot my role in UNTIL THE NIGHT last June or July, I think -- and it's gonna premiere next month at CineVegas, June 12 (anyone in Vegas, come hang out with me).
Posted by LYT at 1:16 AM | Comments (0)
May 18, 2004
Farewell, Felix
Goodbye, Tony Randall. You always seemed so full of life I figured you'd hit at least the 100-year mark. Somehow dying at age 84 still feels, in your case, like you were cut down in your prime.
Posted by LYT at 2:55 PM | Comments (0)
May 17, 2004
A long weekend: Hooters, clowns, wrestling Republicans, and old movies made new
On Friday nights, John Daily now has a new radio show on killradio called "The Bad Advice Show." Officially, I'm the head writer, along with the likes of Dave Roche and Al DiMarco. We've done two of the shows so far, and partied after each. This past Friday also happened to be co-host Bandi's graduation night, and she opted to celebrate by going to Jumbo's Clown Room. The place is famous amongst my friends, but I had never been, so this was my chance at last.
Jumbo's oughta be well-known to most Angelenoes, but since the majority of my most vocal readers here are not Angelenoes, some explanation: Jumbo's is sort-of a strip bar, with a collection of clown dolls over the bar (and no, the strippers don't look like clowns). It's one of these new-fangled "female empowerment" type strip bars, though, which means the girls wear pasties and don't do anything special for tips, though, as I found out, they will give you attitude if you don't tip them every single time they dance, even if you weren't actively watching them. You don't get to put the dollars into their g-string, nor do they make contact with you in any way.
Contrast this to Vegas, where a $1 tip gets you hooters rubbed in your face, and you can sit up front without getting attitude for not tipping every single person. Yes, in Vegas the waitresses can get pushy about you buying beers even when you're clearly not done with the one you have, but at Jumbo's they seem to take them away before you're done.
The best thing about Jumbo's is that the girls tend to be alterna-chicks with cool tattoos and colored hair and so on. Courtney Love famously began her career as a Jumbo's girl.
As the evening wound down, I got tired of the pressure to tip and went outside, where I struck up a conversation with a black doorman named Bobby, who's 50 and claims he gets more hot female action now than ever before in his life. He was one of those rare middle-aged L.A. optimists, a man who still expects to make it big one day, and yet doesn't come across as delusional.
Saturday I went to the new Hooters in Hollywood. Matt and I had been planning a trip there for a while, and following the Laker game (I am the casualest of the casual basketball fans, but it was a damn good game) we got buzzed on Bud Light (I'm embarassed, but Matt's on a diet so I make beer concessions to him) and Matt decided we should go to Hooters then and there, so we did.
Hooters is actually not that different from Jumbo's, but much more upfront about being a money-milking machine. And they have greasy junk food that's pretty good -- their onion rings are the best in town that I've had so far. (At this point, Matt's dietary rules took a brief hiatus for the night.) And as fans of my DVD commentaries can imagine, I was more than happy to buy a T-shirt with the phrase "HOOTERS" on it.
Note: The most brilliant tactic Hooters has at its disposal is the way the stacked, faux-flirtatious waitresses pretend that it makes them sad when you've stopped buying stuff. I'm not sure what's more powerful a manipulation strategy -- pretending to be attracted to a guy, or making him think you might cry. (Maybe Amy Alkon can provide a theory, if she's reading this.)
Sunday I went to the WWE Judgment Day pay-per-view event at Staples with Paul and Todd. If you're a fan, you already know the results; and if you're not a fan, you don't care, but a couple of things that were interesting to note. One of the most popular characters now is a guy named Rico, whose gimmick is that he's a flamboyantly gay "Queer Eye" type paired with an uncomfortable straight man, an all-American collegiate wrestler named Charlie Haas. Rico often turns wrestling holds into gay sex positions, and part of the joke is that his opponents are more afraid of that then they are of being beaten up. It helps that Rico has a gorgeous female valet, but still -- in the '80s, he'd have been booed from the building.
Also interesting is that the main villain of the evening was one John Bradshaw Layfield, a real-life stockbroker in his spare time who has appeared on Fox News and CNBC. His role is as an evil right-wing Republican who hates Mexican immigrants and seems to be mimmicking the George Bush smirk. The crowd hated him so much you couldn't hear him give an interview over the boos.
I was hoping John Bradshaw Layfield would have a new T-shirt, since he also goes by "JBL" and a shirt with those initials would make a great gag gift for a certain friend of mine. But no such luck yet.
Champion Eddie Guerrero proved he's worth his weight in gold by carrying JBL to a great main event match. JBL has never been a great wrestler, and the notion of him in the main event was vastly derided by many fans, but that was one fantastic match that made even casual fans bored by the rest of the show stand up and cheer. Eddie bladed himself pretty deep, however, probably too deep, and by the end the ring canvas was soaked in blood.
After the show I headed to Cantor's deli to meet the legendary Dave Roche, in from Portland for a couple of days. I wasn't the only one to come straight from Staples -- Kurt Angle was also there with a table of friends. On TV, Kurt has a broken leg -- it likely won't surprise you to know that he walked into Cantor's just fine. I didn't bother him -- as you can see on this site's photo page, I already got my picture taken with him four years ago. He had hair then.
Dave was in town to shoot new scenes for the Billy Logue movie HOLLYWOOD FIVE, which had supposedly wrapped five years ago. I guess Billy found new funds. I tagged along to the set, to hang with some old coworkers from the Laemmle days: Billy, Dave, J.F. Jacobson, Leslie Van Trease, and of course Randolph Leon (as he's now known).
I played two different roles in the original cut of the film, and now I have a third. The previous footage was pre-rainbowhair, pre-workout days, so I should have a different presence in the newer part. Billy won't show me any footage, though, because he assumes I'll be overly critical.
The shoot went all night and I got home at around 9 a.m. I don't even like Diet Coke with Lemon all that much (the lime version is better) but I must have had at least 6 over the course of things.
In case you're wondering, yes, infamous Sunset 5 manager Roger Christensen is also in Billy's film.
Posted by LYT at 7:57 PM | Comments (2)
May 14, 2004
Fucking fuck off, jackasses
It's been a year since she left us. 
It feels like eternity. The life of the party has gone out. I think many of us have tried to rise to the occasion and chip in a little more energy so that collectively we could try to equal hers. Sometimes we succeed, sometimes not. I think of last year's Fourth of July party that concluded in hot-tubbing. Hot-tubbing WITH bathing suits. Had she been around, the clothes would have come off and she'd have been the first to set an example.
I look back on some of my old pictures of her and wonder how we could not have seen it coming -- on film she looks very sick and ghostly. In real life her personality was so vibrant that we never saw what the camera saw.
Since her death I've become much more of a partygoer. A little more outgoing. And a movie actor. And I haven't strayed from my more lowbrow roots. All this would please her, I think.
I still haven't deleted her emails from my inbox, especially the one with a subject line reading: "Marnye is alive."
I wanted to toast her memory with some of her mutual friends tonight, but all who responded are out of town or otherwise occupied. Some asked me to raise a glass on their behalf. I'll try to do that.
If you didn't know her, know this: Here was a woman who could look fear and social stigma in the eye and say "Bite me!" We all should do the same.
Posted by LYT at 1:37 PM | Comments (4)
Attention Entrepreneurs
I have a great money-making idea. And I offer it free of charge, because it isn't in my area of expertise or interest.
A service station...open 24-7. The first person to do this will make shitloads of cash. How do I know this?
Supply and demand. Speaking from just my own personal experience, all my breakdowns tend to happen outside of the standard auto-shop 7-5 business hours. But it's also logical that at least, say, a third of breakdowns happen during afternoon rush hour (estimate another third in morning rush hour, and the final third at off-peak times, including weekends, when many shops are closed).
You may gather from this that I had car trouble. Yes. I missed SHREK 2 last night because my battery died. Of course, I didn't know the battery was the problem. My mind told me that whatever the weird noise was the car had been making a while back had something to do with it.
Now, I often go to an amazing mechanic by the name of Chuck, but Chuck can be exasperating because of his hours and his popularity. I've learned from experience that even 8:30 a.m. is too late in the day to bring one's car in for repairs. Today I learned that even if you bring your car in at opening time (causing me to miss my regular KFNX gig, incidentally), he may still be too busy. He was not happy to see me.
After going off on how pissed off he was and what an inconvenience the mere presence of my car was (I offered to call Triple-A right back and have it towed to another mechanic), he gave the car a quick jump-start, and said it was probably the battery. I drove to Pep Boys, and the car died again right on cue. Thankfully for me, the Pep Boys people were happy to help.
Chuck refused any kind of payment for the jump or his time, proving that he's a good guy even when he's in a pissy mood.
Across the street from Pep Boys, Channel 11 anchorman Steve Edwards was getting his star on the Hollywood walk of fame.
While I waited, I went to the 24 hour convenience store across the street, which, oddly, had an ample supply of English candy. I had no cash, and ATM purchases were a 10-dollar minimum. No prob -- $10 worth of Crunchie and Flake bars, coming right up.
Anyway, back to the 24-7 service station idea -- if any of my readers are mechanics, think about it.
Posted by LYT at 10:01 AM | Comments (2)
CityBeat reviews
#Confessions of a Burning Man#
Some day, someone will make a film set at the annual Burning Man festival -- a gathering of artists, nudists, free love types and various other counterculturalists in the Black Rock desert of Nevada -- that will be really good. So far, however, the movies have come up short. Alex Nohe’s 2002 documentary The Burning Sensation gave a little bit of history but glossed over the negative aspects, and this new documentary, directed by Teknolust actor/producer Paul Barnett and Unsu Lee, tries to personalize the event by focusing on three participants, who unfortunately happen to be rather boring.
Aspiring actress Samantha Weaver (whom co-director Barnett proposes to on-camera) brings her mother’s discarded wedding dress along to burn, only to find her mother is also at the festival (you’d expect emotional fireworks to ensue, but you’d be wrong). Cab driver Michael Winaker winds up, uh, driving a cab. And Kevin Epps, apparently the only black man in attendance, seems to be seeking some sort of redemption for his various prison sentences -- whether or not he finds it is unclear. The fact is every artist in attendance would likely be more interesting as a subject than these stiffs.
The film’s strongest aspect is its soundtrack, mostly by the band darkhorse. Mixing trance and tribal rhythms, it’s the perfect fit for the hypnotic and neo-pagan atmosphere that pervades the event. Unfortunately, no other aspect of the movie does Burning Man equal justice.
#Van Helsing#
Stephen Sommers’ homage-cum-parody of old Universal monster movies doesn’t just look like a videogame, but it has the story structure of one too: Begin with a lengthy flashback sequence (“cutscene” in gamer parlance) that sets up the main threats (Richard Roxburgh as Count Vladislaus Dracula, Shuler Hensley as Frankenstein’s Monster) you’ll have to face at the end of the game. Introduce the hero/playable character (Hugh Jackman, with excessively styled hair) and take him on a mission against a relatively lightweight threat (a CG-Mr. Hyde, voiced by Robbie Coltrane) in order to test out his main moves: throwing buzz-saw ninja stars, and swinging on stuff while crashing through other stuff -- every character in this film seems to have the abilities of Tarzan.
Following the X-Box style pattern, your hero goes on to gather weapons and other valuable items, and alternates between large set-piece scenes of shooting lots of monsters, and more brief “cutscenes” that feature preposterous exposition and cheesy “Transylvanian” accents. Don’t bother asking why Dracula has an army of evil Oompa Loompas (“Dwelkans,” I think they’re called) in his castle, or why werewolves change back to humans as soon as clouds cover the moon, even when they’re indoors and out of the moonlight to begin with. I won’t even start with the exploding albino winged monkeys.
Every criticism you may have heard about the film is at least somewhat true -- especially Kate Beckinsale’s performance, a career-worst -- but doesn’t negate the fun factor. There’s just something about large-scale monster battles that’s damned appealing. If only the tie-in action figures were better made.
Posted by LYT at 7:18 AM | Comments (0)
May 13, 2004
Review Update
Jamie Foxx is Breakin' All the Rules
and
The Dalai Lama's in the house for Tibet: Cry of the Snow Lion
Posted by LYT at 1:36 AM | Comments (0)
May 11, 2004
The real deal on the Disney/Moore issue?
May not be a Jeb Bush thing at all. According to FAIR:
"But more relevant may be Disney's financial involvement with a member of the same Saudi family whose connections to the Bush dynasty are investigated by Moore. Prince Al-Walid bin Talal, a billionaire investor who is a grandson of Saudi Arabia's King Fahd, became a major investor in Disney's Eurodisney theme park when it was in financial trouble, and may be asked to bail out the troubled project again.
It's not unprecedented for Disney to respond favorably to a political request from its Saudi business partner; when Disney's EPCOT Center planned to describe Jerusalem as the capital of Israel in an exhibit on Israeli culture, Al-Walid says that he had personally asked Eisner to intervene in the decision. That same week, Disney announced that the pavilion would not refer to Jerusalem as Israel's capital (BBC, 9/14/99)."
Posted by LYT at 3:42 PM | Comments (0)
May 10, 2004
The Passion of the Critic (updated 5/11/04 at 1:30 a.m.)
Tattooed by Rachel Bickley
Original dreamcatcher drawing by James P. W. Thompson
LYT design conceived by LYT (with latticework cribbed from a "Mr. Perfect" trading card) and drawn by RB
My mother's response to these pictures, in part: "Remember to keep your shoulders back- good posture keeps you back pain free, except for the tattoos!"
Full account to come...
The tattoo FAQs:
1. Are you going to color it in?
I have to admit I was surprised by this query, The answer is no; I don't think multi-colored tattoos age well. I like iconic symbols on my body.
2. Did it hurt?
HELL YEAH. It took four solid hours, and it's a needle pricking your spinal cord. The one on the bicep felt like a warm massage afterwards.
3. How do you deal with the pain?
I tried various things. First, I tried reading a book, but found I couldn't focus on it. At times, I dredged up painful memories from the past -- emotional traumas and the like. Recalling my years of self-cutting, I imagined the emotional pain being washed away in the physical pain. I also thought about The Passion of the Christ, and the suffering inflicted upon history's best-known pacifist. Not to mention the degree to which it's appropriate that a whitey like me feel pain for the sake of an Indian symbol.
Conversations in the tattoo shop were welcoms distractions, especially when a call came in from a gentleman who wanted the head of his penis RE-TATTOOED. The man showed up while I was there, and flashed one of the artists in private. Apprently, it was an intricate design. The artist was daunted, imagining that there would be no way to stretch the skin tight for inking.
Many thanks to Jaye for showing up for most of the process, and buying me a sugary soda when I felt light-headed enough to lose it. She also took the lower of the two photos.
A few LYT theories on tattooing:
1. Wait until you're 18. This is not an ageist issue so much as a wait-until-you've-stopped-growing issue. Assuming you don't want the tats to stretch.
2. Personality is key. If you have the classic adult children of alcoholics personality, for instance, where you always second-guess yourself, permanent inkings may be ill-advised.
3. The best tattoos have a story behind them. All three of mine do.
4. My friend Billy once suggested a correlation between tattoos and sex. There is one for me -- I have three tats, and have had sex with three women. Aside from the real origin stories, the tats can be related to the women too. The first I got, for instance, was my self-chosen name, much as my first lay was somewhat self-chosen. The biggest is the dreamcatcher, and in a way could stand for the only one of the three that I truly slept with. The third... ah, no need to tell everything.
5. Waiting periods are good. Tattoos 1 and 2 were contemplated for well over a year before I got them. #3 not as long, but had been a varying concept for a while.
6. Do I plan more? Two at least, but they're very dependent on other people, and may not happen for a while. If you're a friend and want to design one for me, I'm open.
Posted by LYT at 2:53 PM | Comments (9)
May 9, 2004
Minor Triumphs
Check out one of the few good reviews of my Monster Club DVD commentary
Posted by LYT at 12:33 AM | Comments (0)
May 8, 2004
This week's CityBeat film capsules.
#New York Minute#
Making their return to the big screen after years of kiddie videos, Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen continue to prove themselves as two of the most canny self-marketers around. New York Minute is not only fast-paced enough for the short-attention-span girls who’ve grown up with the Olsen sisters (they’d rather you not call them “twins,” though they are, since it implies they’re identical, which genetically they’re not even though they look the same), but it also features a guitar-heavy soundtrack for the boys, and a good deal of innuendo for their newest fanbase -- namely, horny old guys who can’t wait till they turn 18. Ashley’s Jane loses her clothes on three occasions, while both she and Mary-Kate’s Roxy get soaked numerous times. Nothing is shown, but the point is made: guys, they know what you’re thinking.
The story is so stream-of-consciousness that it’s barely worth synopsizing; suffice it to say that Jane is the obsessive-compulsive Republican (complete with George W. Bush bobblehead) while Roxy is the Metallica-T-shirt-sporting Avril Lavigne wannabe (in an inspired bit of casting, KROQ’s Dr. Drew plays their dad). Both wind up in New York as wacky hijinks ensue, and they run afoul of truant officer Lomax (Eugene Levy) and illegal music downloader Bennie (Andy Richter, affecting a Chinese accent -- don’t ask). There’s also a really ugly dog involved, and pop-punksters A Simple Plan show up to plug their latest. By movie’s end, both sisters also manage to charm a couple of hunky guys who look significantly older -- can an R-rated flick be far off?
#Off the Lip#
Inexperienced reporter Kat (Firestarter 2’s Marguerite Moreau, who comes off like a younger Laura San Giacomo) is hired by an internet-based surf zine to track down legendary Hawaiian surfer The Monk, who may or may not exist. Meanwhile, her irritating boyfriend (Sean Astin’s brother Mackenzie) has decided to make a film about her, all the while dropping irritatingly self-conscious references to Godard, Coppola, and Dogme 95.
Though the style of this movie, finally seeing release four years after its production, is that of a mock-doc, it doesn’t quite have the authenticity to fool the viewer, so what remains is a surf comedy with a gimmick, that being the notion that virtually every shot has been captured either by a security camera or one of the characters’ hand-helds. The humor is mostly lame (the boyfriend gets stung in the penis by a bee; there’s a Spinal Tap-style running gag about sound men who keep accidentally dying), though in hindsight the gradual deterioration of the internet site from cash-cow to criminal scam plays amusingly.
Had director Robert Mickelson (a producer on the likes of Prayer of the Rollerboys) more calculatingly aped any number of those lame MTV documentary shows now polluting your cable system, he might have had something. As is, his story is tolerable, but not really worth your dollars. Also, the same surf footage seems to be recycled constantly.
#Love Object#
Kenneth (Ghost Ship villain Desmond Harrington) works at a company that puts together instruction manuals (points for professional individuality there). When co-workers mock him with an ad for a hyper-realistic sex doll, at a cost of $10,000, he’s so convinced that he goes for it, modeling the doll on new coworker Lisa (Melissa Sagemiller, of Soul Survivors and Sorority Boys). But when the doll starts talking to him, and the real Lisa expresses an interest, things get complicated, as can happen in such situations.
First-time writer-director Robert Parigi (a producer on Dark Skies, Sleepwalkers, and Tales From the Crypt) has a lot of fun with the generic corporate workplace, not to mention the fortune to get Rip Torn as Kenneth’s workaholic boss, and Udo Kier as his creepy landlord. The biggest potential pitfall is that Kenneth starts the film as such a weirdo that some audience members may have problems relating to him -- we never get the build-up that would make us believe he truly needs a sex doll, and sympathy for such an urge seems key. Still, the silicone mannequin is creepy as hell, and as in Lucky McKee’s May, it is quite conceivable that this hideous doll exerts some sort of psychic spell upon its psychologically fragile owner.
Lead actor Harrington is at times reminiscent of Michael Keaton, and clearly has a lot of potential. As far as empathizing with his role in this film, however, it may depend upon the degree to which the viewer is an isolated loner.
Posted by LYT at 3:38 PM | Comments (1)
I suspect the real reason Donald Rumsfeld took responsibility for Abu Ghraib...
...is that if he hadn't, every newspaper in America would have run as its headline "Donald Ducks!"
Posted by LYT at 2:40 PM | Comments (0)
Dreams and Visions
This post goes out to Chimp, by request. He wanted to know what my dreams would be on Friday night. Why, you ask? I'll reveal the reason later.
Two dreams. The first is a romance, between a woman, who lives in a white house, and a man. I am not a participant in this dream except in the most distant sense, occasionally slipping into the personality of one of the participants, then another, then a neutral standpoint. The man in the dream is Chandler from FRIENDS.
The woman has a servant who is a robot. Not a humanoid robot, mind you -- a functional looking piece of machinery with caterpillar tracks and a head that resembles R2-D2's Dagobah periscope.
The robot becomes jealous of the man, and gradually takes on an air of menace.
Skip ahead. Now I am in the dream, pitching the preceding story to movie executives, whose office is in my old Irish High School.
They hate the idea, and tell me not to call them ever again. I tell them I'd better not see them make a similar project using my ideas.
Dream 2 was more detailed, but those details are fading away. I'm with my dad on a road trip, and he's in a pissy, bossy mood (my dad in real life is seldom bossy -- his aggression, when it shows, is more passive). He's driving badly, possibly drunk. There's a convenience store we stop at, and I think maybe crashing into it. He insists I go buy him some Ginger Ale. Barbecue flavor. Even in the dream that makes no sense, so I figure I'll just get barbecue potato chips as well as Ginger Ale. I linger way too long looking for the stuff, but then the cops come. Take us both away, even though as a witness I testify against my dad.
And then we're in a prison cell, only at a certain point my dad becomes Alfred Molina, and I'm Spider-Man, with a large pet spider. Then I dissociate, and it's like I'm watching Spider-Man 2. Spider-Man escapes, leaving the spider to guard Alfred. Then some of the scenes from the trailer happen next. I wonder what happened to Peter Parker's real parents, since Doc Ock is clearly not his father.
Something like that, anyway.
Posted by LYT at 12:45 PM | Comments (4)
May 6, 2004
Bush League
To hear some people talk, you'd think someone like John Kerry is just as far to the left as George Bush is to the right. Many of these same people then wonder why we on the left are filled with seemingly irrational "Bush hatred."
Oh, you have no idea. But I'm going to try to help you out.
If we had a president who is as far to the left as Bush is to the right, he would have done the following things:
-Declared Israel in material breach of the U.N. resolution barring possession of nuclear weapons by Middle Eastern states. Began a war, and consulted heavily with France, Russia, and Germany on how to install a socialist government that would do whatever Vladimir Putin tells it to do, including the elimination of the Jewish religion from public life. Renamed bagels "freedom donuts."
-Given federal funding to the Nation of Islam, Church of Scientology, PETA, and the Madalyn Murray O'Hair foundation. Denied it to any organization that allowed open expression of Christianity. As a consolation prize, made a public speech declaring that Christianity is a religion of peace.
-Introduced the following acts: The "Meat is Tasty" act, to promote a vegan lifestyle; The "More Profits for Businessmen" act that would in fact cut CEO salaries in half; The "I Love Jesus" act, making it legal to bulldoze churches; and the "No Gun Left Behind" act, which would confiscate the guns from all Americans except Arabs who could show that they need guns because of their religion.
-Made Jerry Springer the Attorney General, because he knows how to break up fights.
-Given one press conference a year, and insisted in talking in Ebonics at each.
-Passed legislation banning cigarettes from everywhere unless they're filled with pot, in which case smoking would be encouraged, especially by drivers and airline pilots.
-Banned the death penalty for all crimes except the killing of an animal, which would be penalized by torture and mandatory cannibalism.
-Released all prisoners of color. Forcibly branded a swastika into the forehead of the remaining caucasians. Insisted that black-on-black crime is still "an unproven theory." Hire all the released criminals to corporate jobs after firing all the fully-qualified white guys.
-Petitioned for membership in the E.U., and allowed the United Nations veto power over all our domestic policies.
-Hired Pat Robertson as Secretary of State, and blackmailed him into publicly agreeing with everything the president says.
-Established a federal Department of Homosexuality, to be overseen by Barbra Streisand.
You tell me, conservatives: If that kind of thing became a reality, wouldn't you be feeling just a wee bit of hatred?
Posted by LYT at 3:40 PM | Comments (1)
Fat Bastard
Michael Moore's back in the news again. In case you didn't know, here's the deal: After winning the Oscar, he announced that his next film would be FAHRENHEIT 911, a movie about the ties between the Bush and bin Laden families. He shopped it around. Mel Gibson (!) was briefly interested.
Then Miramax picked it up, despite Michael Eisner's warning that he would not allow any Disney subsidiary to release such a film. Something about it being irresponsible to release a politically charged film in an election year (a fucking stupid argument if you ask me. What better year, if you want the film to actually make money?).
Miramax spent $6 million of (presumably) Weinstein cash on the flick and has been gearing up to market it for its debut at Cannes. Eisner, already under heavy criticism for a whole bunch of other stuff, recently lowered the boom and said, essentially, No way in hell. Sorry you guys spent all that money, but you ain't puttin' that shit out while I'm the boss, capiche?
Moore, never one to keep quiet, cried censorship, and posted a message on his website that provided one glaringly obvious example of the fact-fudging he's taken heat for. Moore claims on his site that the New York Times article on this whole situation says that Eisner is dropping the movie because of pressure from Jeb Bush, who threatened to rescind certain promised tax breaks. But if you actually click to the article, it only quotes Moore's own agent saying that.
So who's right and who's wrong here?
Moore holds a steadfast belief that corporations care more about profits than ideology (many right-wing conservatives also like to say that there's a free marketplace for ideas), and has stated specifically that that's the main reason he feels he's able to have a career -- because his stuff makes money, bottom line. He probably did believe Eisner would ultimately put profits first.
The Weinsteins are quite probably using this as a wedge issue to split from Disney and affiliate with a different studio. With an incendiary Moore movie that will undoubtedly become the talk of the nation when it opens, they have quite a bargaining chip.
Eisner -- who knows. Disney has stood up to conservatives before, specifically in reagrds to gay rights. There's no way any organized boycott of all Disney products can succeed, because for clean family entertainment they're often the only game in town. I don't know how big Jeb Bush's tax breaks would be, but with Disney losing profits right now, that may be the very big bottom line.
Some are saying the whole thing is a stunt anyway, that the plan has always been for Miramax to market the film but Lions Gate to actually distribute it.
If the problems facing Moore are genuine, he should do what Spike Lee did on MALCOLM X -- ask sympathetic celebrities for donations. The cost of the movie is $6 million -- surely Barbra Streisand, Steven Spielberg, The Sheen Family, Sarah Jessica Parker, Moby, The Baldwin Brothers et al could come up with that if they pooled their resources?
And please, no righteous chest-thumping about how this movie is a disgrace. Go see it before you judge. The knee-jerk response to Michael Moore these days is to call him the Ann Coulter of the left, which is utter horseshit. The day Ann Coulter makes a film as powerful and artful as ROGER AND ME, then we can make analogies, but not before.
As to Moore's sloppiness on the facts, intentional or otherwise, I think he's generally getting more vigilant on that (yesterday's press release aside) -- DUDE, WHERE'S MY COUNTRY seemed to me much better researched and documented than STUPID WHITE MEN.
Update: A Fly on the Wall has more interesting details on the whole deal.
Posted by LYT at 3:09 PM | Comments (3)
Review Update
After the last couple of posts, I'm probably just asking for trouble here.
The rubber-suit man returns in the original Japanese Godzilla
and a quick take on Ben Stiller and Jack Black's Envy
and I dunno if I linked to this before, but here's a quick take on Man on Fire.
Posted by LYT at 2:06 AM | Comments (3)
May 5, 2004
Shout-outs to the homies
The LA Press Club Award nominees are out. I wasn't eligible this year, but my congratulations to Jill Stewart, Amy Alkon, Corey Levitan, RiShawn Biddle, Matt Welch and anyone whose name I might have missed while skimming down the list. Go get 'em!
(Matt and Amy are also pledged to appear in The Dogsauce Brothers, which will be the highest honor either could ever possibly receive)
Posted by LYT at 5:47 PM | Comments (1)
This will not be a wrestling post, promise (updated yet again as of 5:30 p.m.)
It may piss some people off, though.
A wrestling anecdote will begin things. Recently, Legendary wrestling star Ric Flair pissed a lot of "smart" fans off when he chastised an interviewer for using "insider" terms like "face" and "heel" rather than "goodie" and "baddie." Many fans consider Flair the greatest of all time (myself included), but a lot were upset that he would take such issue with the usage of terminology that's fairly well known by now.
I understand where Flair is coming from -- he insists that such lingo use is strictly a show-off thing, to make the writer feel like an insider when he or she is not. I also understand the fan perspective -- "good guy" and "bad guy" are limiting terms, especially in today's world where drunk-driving asshole rednecks like Steve Austin are the "good guys."
I think of myself and my profession. I occasionally feel like my education is less meaningful when I hear average folks use insider film industry terms. For example, a few years ago, I had to explain to most people what "CGI" meant. Now, most people seem to know. I don't mind so much when someone knows what, for instance, "foley" or "dolly-counterzoom" mean -- saves me some redundant explanation.
But here's what does bug me, somewhat: Non-critics acting like professional critics.
I'm not talking about people like Harry Knowles. Harry has ensconced himself into the industry, like it or not.
I'm talking about average people in other professions who come up to me and say something like, "Hey, I'm almost done compiling my top ten list. Is [movie X] gonna be on yours? I see it maybe being #5 on mine." I'm talking about people whose alleged lists will never be published or read by anyone, except maybe family members. Granted, I would occasionally do such things for my own amusement, but I never deluded myself that anyone I knew, much less professional critics, gave a rat's ass.
I'm also talking about ordinary people who come out of a movie and say, "Yeah, that was pretty decent, all things considered: I give it a B+"
Really? A B+? Excuse me for asking, but do you remember the origin of letter grades? As part of one's education, letter grades are derived from adding up a potential number of points out of the maximum possible score. Are you saying you were adding all those things up in your head? If so, I call foul, because film is subjective. For instance, I can concede that most every aspect of BATTLEFIELD EARTH failed in its apparent goal, but still give it a positive review because it entertained me, intentionally or otherwise. College professors cannot get away with such assessments while grading students, in general.
When I started as a critic for KSCR, I graded using stars, 1-5. I eventually gave up when I realized most films rated a 3 -- good, not great but not awful. Stars are limiting, and despite Entertainment Weekly's pointless endorsement, letter grades are pretentious.
I don't believe my opinion is somehow intrinsically better than yours. I do believe that my degree in film means something. I also think that arbitrary grading systems are stupid, and a well articulated opinion beats any sort of letter or numerical grade any day. Make your case on the merits, not on some silly scale.
I also think plain speaking beats pretentious analysis any day. I try to embody that in my own published writing. I feel the most vindicated when someone tells me they're glad I note the nudity level in certain films, because it's exactly what they wanted to know.
If you're a would-be reviewer, here's my advice to you: First, find a forum, like a free weblog. Second, jettison any notion of objective scales like stars or letter grades. Third, write what you feel, whether you think people will want to read it or not. Writing what you think people want to hear or what you think makes you sound smart is a recipe for disaster.
I read Movieguide every week. I do not read Elvis Mitchell. Take from that what you will. The former believes in itself; the latter is just pompous.
ADDENDUM: Perhaps I am less than adequate for this job. Based on the first comment below, I don't think my point properly came across. That's what writing drunk and unedited will do for you. So anyway, to add to the whole topic in the sobering light of day...
Indeed, every god damn person who's ever seen a movie is something of a film critic, or, perhaps more accurately, film reviewer -- the distinction being that critics tend to go deeper in their analysis of what worked and why.
The problem I guess I have is when people lose perspective as a result. If you want to be a critic, be one. Make it happen. But if you are an accountant, don't talk about how you're compiling a top ten list that no-one is ever gonna see or care about. It's no money out of my pocket, but at the same time do you really want to hear me opine on accounting?
Especially if you only go to see the big Hollywood films that you think you'll like. Every year I see people online make authoritative statements about how the year in movies sucked, with no evidence that they've seen (or heard of) even a single Miramax-level indie, much less anything more obscure. Services like Netflix leave you no excuse for not seeing those if you want to.
Save the stars for rating restaurants. Keep the letter grades on term papers. Remember that art is subjective.
And ReJeKt, you really need to get over The Matrix Reloaded. Seriously. It made lots of money, and last time I checked was still a "Fresh" on Rotten Tomatoes.
ADDENDUM #3
Having thought on this post some more, I realize what the real real issue is. It's not that people want to be critics who aren't. (As you read this entire thing from top to bottom, recognize that you're watching my thought processes evolve almost in real time. Spontaneity is the friend and enemy of a blogger)
It's that when they do, they tend to ape the worst things professional critics do, at the expense of the best things.
Referring to movies as "pictures" when you never would in conversation. Forcing a grade scale on something subjective. Arbitrarily picking a mere ten movies to represent the year. Using words like "bravura." Insisting on mentioning "spoilers," with or without a warning.
It occurred to me today that this isn't about amateurs at all. I hate when the "real" critics do all that stuff. Because criticism in general is so watered-down and mediocre, people model themselves on irrelevant criteria.
The problem with star grades and such, if it isn't obvious to you now, becomes obvious once you get readers. One or more will write in and say "How dare you give Tomorrow Night five stars and Lawrence of Arabia 4? Everyone knows Lawrence of Arabia is one of the greatest films ever."
Well, yeah. But Tomorrow Night is possibly the best movie about an ice cream fetishist ever made, and I've watched it more times than Lawrence. By making me grade them using the same system, you force a comparison where none is relevant. I've seen some people who have individual scales for each individual genre and subgenre, which is a bit more meaningful (i.e. Lawrence of Arabia rates a 10/10 on the desert movie scale, a 9/10 on the historical drama scale, etc.).
Still, this isn't math, and I as a reader don't want to try to think about what those numbers mean. Did you like it? Why? Most of the smart critics I know eschew arbitrary-yet-objective-looking scales if they can [Ross Anthony, who's a great guy, uses letter grades because part of his gimmick is that he's a real-life teacher and his site is a "report card," so it works for him], but the public ask for it, and the editors comply. Ironically, I think that it's also part of the reason critics can seem arrogant -- turning their assessment into a numeric rating gives it the look of an absolutist assessment, when in reality they probably didn't want to do it in the first place.
Roger Ebert is known for the whole thumb thing. But read his actual written reviews, and you know why he got where he has. This man's personality comes through loud and clear, and he doesn't mess around with trying to impress. Of course, he doesn't have to. Take that aspect of criticism to heart, not the thumb thing. Limited by the top ten his bosses undoubtedly insist on, he responds by setting up a whole festival of overlooked films. Not everyone has that power, but the best critics try to undermine the decimal limit as much as possible, with ties, honorable mentions etc.
I realized today that the entirety of this post may make you guys think I don't want to hear your opinions of films. That isn't the case, and I apologize if you took it to heart. I don't want to hear you trying to sound like something other than your actual conversation would indicate. I do want to hear the sort of thing ReJeKt describes, the kind of talk people engage in when coming out of the theater. That to me is the essence of what a review should be. That spontaneity and immediate reaction is crucial. A little contemplation to be added later if you have the time.
And one thing Jaye says below strikes a chord: "Critical Studies professors certainly can't teach the actual forming of an opinion. That's something you either inherently have or do not."
I don't entirely agree with that. They maybe can't make you like something that you don't, but they can challenge you to form an opinion on something you haven't thought about, and hone your mind in the process of forming opinions. Most often they don't, though. On the Freshmen DVD commentary I just did, this issue gets discussed a lot, because a professor in the film is really good at challenging people to form opinions in a way that none I ever had was. I mostly had teachers and TAs who expressed one opinion, and expected you to give it back to them come exam time.
Posted by LYT at 2:49 AM | Comments (9)
May 3, 2004
Birthday shout-out
While horny guys eagerly await the Olsen sisters' birthday later this year, I've got a tidbit for all the ladies today:
ARTHUR KWAN THOMPSON IS NOW 18!
As far as I know, he's still single.
Posted by LYT at 1:42 PM | Comments (1)
Site tweaks
I've updated the FAQ page to better reflect my current employment status, and added details to the main page about my weekly appearances on Phoenix radio station KFNX. John Daily's Standing Room Only show no longer exists, but John and I are far from done vis-a-vis radio -- more details to come.
Posted by LYT at 1:37 PM | Comments (0)