LYT's Weblog: June 2004 Archives

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June 30, 2004

Review Update

The anti-Fahrenheit 9/11? Get inside America's Heart & Soul

and

The original Leatherface, Robert Redford, gets kidnapped in The Clearing

Posted by LYT at 10:55 PM | Comments (0)

June 29, 2004

Ghosts

Going through my email inbox and cleaning it out, I found this:

"how about a contest for the world's best shiner?

i would totally win/

you should post a picture of me on your site. it's as colorful as your hair

almost"

That was from Marnye after the first seizure.

I hope no-one minds that the photo I did put up of her doesn't feature the colorful shiner.

Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over

I don't have much to write about tonight's wake for Marnye. I wish I did, but I don't.

I'm almost more emotionally overcome now than I was when I saw her dead body. Marnye's mom looks just like her, same facial exppressions and everything.

Steve Lemons was a great support to me tonight. Always did dig the fat man (even if by Deep South standards he isn't actually that fat).

There was a laptop computer with rotating pics of Marnye. Those from her childhood show her mom looking just like her, and her dad looking just like her brother, who's my age.

My friend Steve (Davy, not Lemons -- I know a few Steves. And Gregs/Gregorys), also a friend of Marnye's, is moving away on Tuesday. New Times wasn't meant to be like high school, where everyone moves away for good after four years, but that's how it turned out. Only I liked New Times more than high school, or college for that matter.

I spoke to a former arts editor about an anecdote Marnye had about him, where he threw a fit because she took a bathroom break. He remembers apologizing. She always had him saying something like "Well, OK, if it's just this once." He feels really badly about it. I told him not to worry -- she got a lot of mileage out of that anecdote.

One thing I must mention, though -- Eric Almendral was in the house!

Posted by LYT at 9:33 PM | Comments (0)

June 28, 2004

Pizza Delivery Spider-Man

Yes, THIS is a real action figure from an upcoming series of spider-Man 2 movie toys

Spidey has apparently been hanging out with the Ninja Turtles a little too long.

Posted by LYT at 4:01 PM | Comments (4)

June 27, 2004

LAFF: JU-ON THE GRUDGE and KRUSH GROOVE

"Get your Ju-On

Get Your Ju-On

Get Your Ju-On..."

That's the obvious joke out of the way.

Now let's talk JU-ON: THE GRUDGE. Part of the New Wave of Japanese horror that includes RINGU and DARK WATER, and more peripherally, THE EYE (a Thai-Japanese collaboration), JU-ON is a success when it comes to creeping out the audience.

That said, there are problems -- mostly redundance. JU-ON features a cursed house inhabited by, among others, a big black shape in vaguely female form, a dead cat, a little pale white boy named Toshio who stares at you and makes cat noises with his mouth, and various forms of white noise and electromagnetic pulses. We first see inside the house courtesy of a substitute social worker, but subsequent sequences take place both before and after the intial event.

Basically, anyone who enters the house is fucked. Not immediately, though. Once they leave, they get stalked by some or all of the aforementioned creepy critters, until something really bad happens. Fade to black. Begin again with new person. Only after this chain of events repeats like five or six times to we finally get told what the source of all the bad stuff is.

And some of it's very familiar. There's no drowned girl this time, but dead kid: check. Staring and screaming at people to scare them: check. Video distortion on photos of people marked for death: check. Creepy dead chick on video who can stare right out at the viewer or fuck with the TV signal: check. Hair hanging over face for scary mystery factor: check.

The scares all work, but not quite so effectively as in RINGU or DARK WATER, because those films held back on fully revealing the master ghost, while JU-ON shows us Toshio and black formless mass early on. With all the similar elemenst, one has to longer how many more times the same dogs are gonna hunt.

An American remake is coming, and judging by the trailer, it's very similar, set in Japan with just a couple of whiteys in the lead (Sarah Michelle Gellar and Bill Pullman). Toshio is still Japanese. And the director is the same.

KRUSH GROOVE (shown outdoors at 8000 Sunset)

This one takes me back. "introducing Blair Underwood", indeed.

Made in the mid-80s as a cash-in on the hip-hop explosion, the movie plays better now than it did then, because it's a trip to watch the Fat Boys (initially called the Disco 3 in the flick), New Edition, Curtis Blow, Run-DMC, the Beastie Boys, and Sheila E. all in the same movie, all playing themselves and doing musical numbers. The plot is slight: Blair Underwood plays Run's brother, and their egos clash; meanwhile, a big record label tries to buy up all the talent from Blair's struggling Krush Groove label.

Boy, did it make me think about the state of rap today. It's all mainstream now, but the stuff in Krush Groove is more creative and more rockin' than a lot of the crap being churned out today. No lyrics about guns or pot-smoking that I could discern. No hackneyed George Clinton samples. It reminded me that every rap band used to have one guy who did human beat-boxing -- does any major band do that today?

I'm probably starting to sound old now, so I'll stop.

Posted by LYT at 2:16 AM | Comments (2)

June 26, 2004

The Wizard of Oz is really about killing Indians

How's this for political balance: Some incredibly far-reaching insanity from the PC-left.

Posted by LYT at 12:01 PM | Comments (0)

George W. Bush on Irish TV

Interesting clip, THIS

especially when he tries to gain favor with the Irish by talking about his close ties to England, or when he implies France was the only European country who opposed the war, and only because the French don't believe in saying what they mean.

Most of all, though, the clip will make you realize what real TV journalism is like. Since we don't get it much over here.

Posted by LYT at 11:54 AM | Comments (4)

June 25, 2004

A wee bit of unsolicited advice for John Kerry on the heels of his L.A. celebrity fundraiser

Look, John, we all know Democrats have to deal with Barbra Streisand. It's their cross to bear.

But it would really be a good idea not to invite Ben Affleck to be a spokesman for the cause next time around. If he won't take no for an answer, just point off into the distance and say, "Look! Hot Latina ass!"

And if that fails, offer to take him on a shopping trip for red leather in WeHo if he'll leave you alone.

In the meantime, Taco Bell just introduced a whole bunch of new menu items. Most are the same old ingredients in new combos, but some are genuinely new -- potatoes have been added to the line-up. Also a caramel apple empanada that's pretty good, and fills the critical dessert gap that traditionally only featured cinnamon twists (a.k.a. fried air).

Posted by LYT at 3:39 PM | Comments (6)

Critical Shake-Up

Manohla Dargis has left the L.A. Times for the New York Times.

It's too bad for L.A. The Times was smart to hire her: She was irreverent, pop-culture savvy, and occasionally sex-obsessed, plus she never seemed to give a damn what anyone else thought of her reviews.

I wonder if they'll ever be able to find another film critic like that?

Posted by LYT at 12:04 PM | Comments (6)

June 24, 2004

CityBeat review this week

#White Chicks#

The question has always been, can White Chicks possibly be as bad as it looks? In two words: hell yes.

Shawn and Marlon Wayans, a.k.a. Keenen and Damon�s unfunny siblings, play more or less interchangeable undercover FBI agents who, in the film�s opening moments, stupidly and obviously screw up a drug bust while disguised as painfully offensive Cuban stereotypes. As punishment, they�re forced to babysit two spoiled rich heiresses (Maitland Ward and Anne Dudek, similarly interchangeable) in imminent danger of being kidnapped, but after a minor car accident, the pair of dumb blondes sustain minor scrapes and refuse to be seen in public. Since the girls absolutely must be present at an upcoming fashion show so as not to make the would-be kidnappers suspicious, the stage is set for the Brothers Wayans to dress up as grotesque caricatures yet again.

From there, the plot deteriorates even further. Why one of the brothers removes his drag in order to seduce a female reporter by pretending to be yet another different person is never clear, nor is it explained how the boys� boss figures things out. Huge chunks appear to have been cut from the story, but it�s just as well, since they probably would have sucked as badly as what�s left.

Everyone involved seems to have been afflicted with severe self-loathing -- the performances are uniformly half-assed, with the sole exception of Terry Crews, formerly of TV�s Battle Dome, who gleefully throws himself into the role Tiny Lister might have played two decades ago, that of Whitey�s Worst Nightmare, a big bald black man who�ll kick your ass and steal your girl.

Posted by LYT at 5:26 PM | Comments (4)

Review Update

Consider taking your woman to cry about The Notebook

and

Li'l tigers get all cute an' shit in Two Brothers

Posted by LYT at 1:17 AM | Comments (1)

June 23, 2004

50 First Impressions

Last night, while in line for FAHRENHEIT 9/11, I was chastized by an individual for not recognizing him. He apparently feels that he has such an extraordinarily unique look that no-one can forget him (I disagree, and I should know from unique looks), and accused me of crinkling my nose when I looked at him.

I have problems with allergies, as most everyone knows. Crinkling of the nose is frequently a symptom of this.

Anyway, I don't want to come off like some big celebrity telling everyone how to ask for autographs, but for the benefit of anyone who may run into me in public, I think I oughta write a little sumpin' sumpin'.

1. I attend almost every free party I'm invited to. Since I work in the media, and have many non-media friends with similar affinities for partying, this happens a lot. The crowds in attendance are often very different; as a result, I meet A LOT of people. I'm lucky if I remember one or two new people each night.

2. When I am at a party, chances are I'm anywhere from partially buzzed to totally trashed. This affects comprehension, and at times may make me more inclined to insult you.

3. The degree to which you remember me is in no way proportional to the degree to which I'll remember you. I've got fucking rainbow hair, and my initials tattooed on my arm. Odds are you don't.

4. Unless your name is something like "Azazel," you probably share it with about five other people I've already met this month. Don't be shocked if the moniker "Paul" or "John" means nothing to me.

5. If we have met, and I don't remember your name, it doesn't mean I don't remember you. See above.

6. If we have met and I do not instantly remember you, remind me what we talked about when last we met. That's the best way to induce recall on my part.

7. Don't assume that I'm better at recognizing white people than folks of any other race. It ain't so. Whiteys blend together just as much.

8. If we only see each other once a year, at some annual festival or whatnot, and you think I ought to recall every detail of our last meeting -- unless it involved something exceedingly out of the ordinary, you gotta get over yourself.

9. It's nothing personal. If we had sex and I forgot you, you'd have a right to be mad. But a drunken conversation at a cocktail party? You should never expect anyone to remember you a year later -- but if they do, it's a cool bonus.

10. I do want to meet you. Even if it's for the fifth time.

Posted by LYT at 3:37 PM | Comments (6)

LAFF: FAHRENHEIT 9/11 (will this get more responses than Shrek 2?) [updated again on 6/30]

[Note: I may continue to update this review as time goes on. It's a dense film, and the initial appraisal might not necessarily be the best one]

In attendance: Samuel L. Jackson, John C. Reilly, Kevin Bray, Edward Norton, Morgan Freeman, Neil Young, Mickey Cottrell, Jeffrey Wells (who thinks David Poland�s columns on Michael Moore sound like Fox News)

The crowd cheers and boos according to which people onscreen they do or don�t like. Condoleeza Rice gets the most hatred next to Bush. Rumsfeld after that (when a young soldier says Rummy should resign, the audience clapped hard). Ashcroft and Wolfowitz are made to look like such buffoons that it�s hard to get worked up about them.

Bear with me on this. Most professional reviewers assessing Michael Moore�s latest will have to hand a press kit neatly summarizing the film�s timeline, key points, and major players. I have nothing but my memory (more on that in another post I�ll write later). I am also not going to fact check every claim made in the film, but will say this -- most of the key claims made are either made by credible individuals other than Moore, or backed up by documents shown onscreen. It�s possible the documents could be forged, I suppose, but that seems unlikely, as the stakes and the scrutiny are so high.

That said, I would take issue with two major points Moore makes:

1. Moore shows footage of a pre-war Iraq in which happy families enjoy an amusement park and kids fly kites (presumably as a contrast to the Taliban, who forbade such things). He then refers to us attacking the sovereign nation of Iraq, and follows that with some comment like, �A country that never attacked America, never threatened to attack America, and never murdered a single American.� On that final point, it depends what your definition of �murder� is -- Americans died in the first Gulf War, and Americans living in Kuwait didn�t exactly get red-carpet treatment when Saddam invaded. Regardless, the implication is that Iraq was a happy fun country before the war, and that just ain�t so. Is it worse now? I don�t know. But by neglecting to say a bad word about Saddam (possibly Moore feels that�d be redundant), the film risks ignoring the most obvious pro-war argument.

2. Moore implies that by waiting until 2 months after 9-11 to attack Afghanistan, Bush deliberately let Osama escape. Moore should know as well as anyone that those two months were needed (a) to make a solid case against Bin Laden (remember, many foreign governments and far-leftists claimed we had no case), and (b) to rally international support from world governments, the one time Bush actually did diplomacy right (who says I can�t say a good word about W? Even the French were on our side then!). As soon as we had both, shit got started.

Those two issues aside, I still feel the film makes its case.

On September 11, or shortly thereafter, Moore posted images of the towers on his website with the following caption:

�Politics doesn�t affect me...

Politics doesn�t affect me...

Politics doesn�t affect me...�

It�s this message that�s at the heart of most of what he does -- taking large events on a political scale and showing examples of just how they do in fact affect the individual. By far the most powerful stuff in FAHRENHEIT 9-11 is the small scale stuff (Oh, and Ray Bradbury needs to shut the fuck up about the title. Might as well let William Shatner sue because of RESCUE 911). Moore�s cameras follow recruiters for the U.S. Marines as they stake out the lower-class, more �ethnic� mall in town and use aggressive, door-to-door salesman-type tactics to sign up as many impressionable youths as possible, occasionally dropping celebrity names like David Robinson and Shaggy (the rapper, not the cartoon character) as if they were endorsements. Moore tries to emulate their tactics in pursuing pro-war congressmen to get them to sign up their kids. It�s a bit of a grandstanding tactic, but the point is it ain�t much different from the way things are really done.

Moore also focuses on the effects of a death in one family, the Lipscombs, an interracial, proudly Christian and staunchly patriotic extended family whose lives have been shattered by the death of their son in a downed Black Hawk. Having previously backed U.S. wars and been offended by antiwar protesters, the Lipscombs are now changing their tune and deciding that the war in Iraq was pointless and fought for nothing. When mother Lila visits Washington to commiserate with other antiwar protesters, she�s harassed by a pro-Busher who calls the event �staged� and then yells at Lila to �blame Al Qaeda.� Conservatives now claim they never directly said that Iraq had a hand in 9-11 SPECIFICALLY; Moore gets footage of Condoleeza Rice saying exactly that.

But back to the beginning. Before the opening titles, Moore has taken the dried-up scab that is the memory of the 2000 election, picked it bloody, and let it get infected. The raw memories of that time come flooding back, along with some footage that wasn�t widely shown at the time -- almost every black member of congress protesting Gore�s certification of the final vote, but unable to legally make a case because no senator would sign on to make their petition legit.

We see Bush�s limo pelted with eggs on inauguration day. Then we see Bush take constant vacations. There�s a clip here of Bush vacillating on what the definition of �vacation� is that puts all that Clinton stuff about the definition of �is� to shame. Moore may get accused of picking on a helplessly inarticulate man, but as Bush�s dad once said of Dukakis, �If he can�t take the heat, he better get the hell out of the kitchen.�

If the MTV movie awards show wants to get really cheeky next year, they should nominate George W. Bush for Best Comedic Performance - Male (I doubt they have the cojones to go for Best Villain, unless he's no longer president).

At our screening, Neil Young introduced the movie. He read a note from Moore saying that the director was in Washington to show the movie to Congress, and that Bush was invited too, if he wanted to come. I doubt Bush will ever watch the film -- he doesn�t read newspapers, and says he lets his staff tell him what�s happening.

Anyway, on with the film. I always thought it was tasteless of Moore to use 9-11 footage in BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE; here he at least refrains from showing the crash.

The overwhelming thrust of the film is that the Bush family and administration, via various corporations they represent, are up to their gills in connections to the government of Saudi Arabia, from whom they make more money than they do anyone in America (To those who'll say "But they're our allies!", well, China has been our trade partner for a long time, but people got all up in Clinton's shit when it seemed like their government was giving him some cash). Those same corporations stand to make a lot of money from wars with oil-rich countries, and thus the Bushes gladly oblige, convincing the public to go along with them by manipulating the public into a state of constant fear and paranoia. I�m not going to get into all the dots that are connected; for one thing I didn�t take notes, and for another, it�d be a shame to spoil every surprise, although there won�t be much to surprise astute followers of the news (few Americans qualify as such, sadly). I know of at least one colleague of mine who�s been on the whole Prince Bandar issue from the getgo, but if you don�t know who he is or what the big deal is, Moore�s movie will clarify. (Interestingly, and perhaps confounding certain expectations on the right, there is NOTHING in the film about Israel, or Sharon, or �neocons.�)

I hope everyone will see this film. I hope even Republicans go. I expect even a few of them may come out shaken and confused, left in self-doubt for maybe an hour or so before they turn on the AM radio to reassure themselves that everything�s all Right again. I�ll take that hour of self-doubt over none. Just now, I don�t even want to talk to my Bush-voting friends. Moore�s movie reasserts things that I�d forgotten, reminding me just what a pathetic excuse for a leader we have. Those who say Moore hates America are morons (or shamelessly opportunistic filmmakers) -- Moore shows more support for the troops in this film than anyone I know, while pointing out that so-called supporter Dubya has been on a roll cutting their benefits and pay.

I imagine that the moment I post a link to this review on Rotten Tomatoes, I�ll get many conservative troll responses. If you are one, please try to make a coherent point, rather than some reference to Moore being fat, or being the same as Ann Coulter (I�d like to see her try to make a film that�s in focus, let alone one as artistically done as ROGER & ME). My usual tolerance is at a low-ebb right now, and I may opt to ban people arbitrarily.

Use of silly made-up terms like "Islamofascist" or "Idiotarian" will result in immediate post-deletion.

For an opposing point of view, here�s Christopher Hitchens

And here�s Hollywood Bitch Slap fact-checking Hitchens� ass

The Religious Right response (very interesting...they label it abhorrent but admit to being troubled by some of the facts in it).

NEW! If you're a conservative curious about the movie who doesn't want any of your money to go to Moore, THIS SITE might be of interest. (credit: Movie City News for the link)

Vote for your own interpretation on our Message Board Poll

Posted by LYT at 1:08 PM | Comments (43)

Rare Honesty from the Religious Right

"while we are called to love our neighbor, we are also called not to tolerate his false religion or sin. In fact, we�re called to be highly intolerant"

I'll try to write a coherent review of FAHRENHEIT 9/11 when I can. Right now I'm still shaking with rage at President Fucky McFucknuts and those who actually believe he's anything more than a pathetic cipher in way over his head who's motivated solely by personal wealth.

After 9/11 happened, I said of John Ashcroft, "He may be an asshole, but he's OUR asshole, and now we get to set him loose on the bad guys." Instead, he went to town on us.

Now I realize that in fact, Michael Moore is our asshole. And he has gone to town on the corrupt weasels in charge of our government, in a way that the average viewer is gonna have a very tough time refuting.

I agree with Janeane Garofalo -- at this point, voting for Bush is a character flaw.

Yes, there are flaws with the film. I'll get to them later.

Posted by LYT at 2:16 AM | Comments (0)

June 22, 2004

Turnabout = Unfair Play?

ReJeKt now allows comments on his site.

I think you all know what to do.

Posted by LYT at 4:34 PM | Comments (9)

LYT at LAFF -- thwarted

After a press screening of WHITE CHICKS, I was desperately hoping to see something good. Jetted across town quickly to get to LAFF's first of three surprise screenings, only to be shut out because they figured the eeeevil media might ruin the surprise.

Saw Douglas Dunning in the lobby. He had just seen some English film, which of course he loved because it was English.

So I went to the red room, downed two vodka cocktails, and went to see NAPOLEON DYNAMITE. I missed the first couple of minutes, but my review follows anyhow. (Tonight I'm hoping to see FAHRENHEIT 9/11; will definitely post my thoughts if it happens)

but for now...

NAPOLEON DYNAMITE

Picture a Mike Judge cartoon brought very literally to life. We�ve got incomprehensible rednecks, deranged chicken farmers, sad-sack middle-aged salesmen, and a protagonist (�hero� would be the wrong word) who looks like a perfect hybrid of Beavis and Butt-head (also, Diedrich Bader, who appeared in OFFICE SPACE, shows up as an equally wacky macho man). You�ve probably seen the ubiquitous trailer by now; the film pretty much offers much, much more of the same. Yes, Napoleon Dynamite (Jon Heder) is the lead character�s actual name, but whether or not his parents deliberately picked out an old Elvis Costello pseudonym is never mentioned.

The film initially seems to be set in the �80s -- the lame fashions and music choices (the use of The A*Team theme is particularly awesome) point in that direction, until we get one incongruous Backstreet Boys tune towards the end. So that dates the period at least to last decade, but the whole theme of the movie is one of looking back. Napoleon�s uncle Rico (John Gries, of JACKPOT and ED AND HIS DEAD MOTHER) is an Al Bundy type who once played high school football and now sells Tupperware; at one point he has Napoleon�s brother Kip (newcomer Aaron Ruell, in a strong debut) purchase a ludicrous hand-made �time machine� on eBay to attempt to travel back to 1982. Meanwhile, Napoleon�s life is an example of why no-one should want to go back and relive high school -- every day is �The worst day of my life, Whaddayou THINK?�

Writer-director Jared Hess, expanding on his short film �Peluca,� has created a high school that rings truer than most -- NO-ONE looks like a movie high schooler; even Hilary Duff�s sister Haylie, as the class hottie, is dolled down enough to look like a real person who happens to be slightly pretty.

Many will argue, however, that the film is not realistic in the slightest, but rather a gross mockery of people Different From Us. Those who say that probably did not go to high school in a rural town. Yes, Napoleon says outlandish things in an attempt to be cool (the �liger� he draws, and calls his favorite animal, is not as crazy as it seems -- lions and tigers can cross-breed, though they do not have magic powers). And yes, we laugh at his nerdiness (out of character, actor Heder is considerably better looking -- check THIS out). But there are different kinds of laughter. We all know the general difference between laughing AT someone and laughing WITH them, but there are also different degrees of laughing AT. The most normal one is, for instance, laughing when someone falls down and gets hurt. But there�s another kind, the kind when someone does something really odd and unexpected, but fully commits to it with all their energy (think Chris Farley doing the Chippendale dance on SNL). We laugh at them because there�s no other reaction that works. It�s funny, but not because the other person is suffering. We laugh knowing that most of us don�t have the balls to be so much ourselves in front of a crowd (actually, I would claim that I do have those balls, but many don�t).

Napoleon may start out as a caricature, but there is a subtle and gradual change that occurs. For me, the point at which it becomes apparent is during the high school dance, when he�s ditched by his date (who has been forced by her mother to accompany Napoleon as a sympathy thing), and eventually ends up dancing with the girl he really likes (Tina Majorino, WATERWORLD�s little girl all grown up) to the strains of �Time After Time.� The music choices push my buttons, I admit. I�ve been hard on some film-makers who rely too much on such things, but this isn�t quite the same as, say, SHREK 2, which uses �Holding Out For a Hero� in order to tap into an emotional resonance earned by another movie (FOOTLOOSE) rather than create any of its own. I think the song is only part of the picture here; Majorino really sells the moment, with her understated acting standing in stark contrast to the over-emoting she did onscreen as a kid.

But when Hess uses �The Promise� by When in Rome over the end credits, man, that damn near brings a tear to my eye, especially in tandem with the film�s final image. I didn�t know the song title or the band before I saw these credits, but any fan of �80s hits will recognize it. It�s the song whose chorus goes:

�I�m sorry but I�m just thinking of the right words to say

I know they don�t sound the way I planned them to be

But if you wait around a while, I�ll let you come with me

I promise you, I promise you...I will�

NAPOLEON DYNAMITE is no REVENGE OF THE NERDS. The nerd doesn�t get to score with the bully�s best girl, nor does he save the world. He manages a minor triumph, and keeps on keeping on. It�s a funny film, and a beautiful one. I felt that Hess� sympathies were strongly with the lead characters -- those who find the film condescending obviously didn�t think so. Plotwise, the movie is a bit meandering, but so�s life. I love this film, and if you�re in any way similar to me in age and upbringing, I think you will too.

Posted by LYT at 3:17 PM | Comments (0)

Hate Mail of the Week

From the SF Weekly:

"OMG most racist movie review ever [of Breakin' All the Rules, by Luke Y. Thompson, Film, May 12]. "[S]erves very little purpose beyond reminding us that there are black people in the world, and they have love lives as well as decent jobs." Are you serious? Maybe you should review for the Aryan Nation gazette.

Ethan Feller

Orono, Maine "

It's thoroughly refreshing to have someone upset at something besides Shrek 2.

POSTCRIPT: I just noticed that this reader is using the exact quote that's on Rotten Tomatoes. I wonder if Mr. Feller actually read the rest of the piece or not.

Posted by LYT at 12:04 PM | Comments (1)

June 19, 2004

The Reagan I remember

Alexander Cockburn remembers him too

Cockburn goes off the deep end sometimes, but his recollections align with mine on this score.

Posted by LYT at 12:44 PM | Comments (0)

LYT at LAFF (possibly the first in a series, who knows)

I love the LA film festival. I always know summer has begun when I'm chilling at a porch party on the top level of 8000 Sunset Blvd. drinking free vodka and eating free food. All for writing about a few movies.

Everyone in every job should have at least one time in the year when they feel so valued professionally.

My favorite bartender Chris is back in the red room, and already I'm meeting new people. A charming actress named Angela, and a guy named Jeff who likes to talk about buttcracks. I told someone else that I actually paid Jeff off to make me sound more classy by comparison.

And the movies have been good too. First up is...

HAROLD AND KUMAR GO TO WHITE CASTLE

You're going to think I'm insane, or kidding, but honest-to-God this is one of the year's best films; possibly the best movie comedy about an all-nighter ever made (sorry Bob!). It's from Danny Leiner, the director of DUDE, WHERE'S MY CAR?, and plays like an R-rated second draft of that film, which, I remind readers, went from concept to finished product in under 7 months.

Harold (John Cho, of the second and third AMERICAN PIE movies) and Kumar (Kal Penn, MALIBU'S MOST WANTED) are indeed stoners looking to feed their drug-induced hunger pangs, but they're no dummies. Harold is a lower-tier employee in some kind of fancy office job, and Kumar is the son of a doctor who deliberately screws up med-school interviews to piss off dad. As the movie begins, Harold's obnoxious bosses conspire to make him do all their work for the next day's meeting, but Kumar calls and insists the two of them get stoned first. They do, and see a commercial for White Castle. Now all they have to do is get there.

Not as easy as it looks. En route, they will run into an escaped cheetah, a boil-encrusted redneck who wants the two stoners to fuck his beautiful wife, Neil Patrick Harris (amusingly playing himself, as a dangerously horny junkie), an escaped cheetah (did I say that already? Dude, man, I forgot) more than one instance of gay panic (the funniest courtesy of VAN WILDER himself, Ryan Reynolds), goofy racist police, and much, much more. I never really dug the movie AFTER HOURS as much as other critics did, but I got why it was supposed to be appealing. This movie does it right, for me at least. Reminds me ever-so-slightly of how much I enjoyed ADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING as a kid (haven't revisited that one lately to see if it holds up or not).

It's also a bit like BRINGING UP BABY, only with two guys in both lead roles. I wouldn't say there's gay tension between them (nothing so blatant as Ashton and Seann making out in DUDE), but they do bicker like a married couple. And Harold's love interest (Paula Garces) is very peripheral, more an object than a person. Kumar's true love is weed -- there's a very funny sequence that takes this notion literally and to the extreme.

Oh yeah, there are hooters. And profanity. And drugs. And really weird trippy shit that hits you from out of nowhere. This is an R movie for sure, not a phony one like SOUL PLANE where the rating's only R because people say "fuck" a lot.

Many of the jokes are obvious, but a lot are not at all so. Watch for the scene in which Kumar decides to urinate on a bush, and then must fight for his urination turf with a crazed stranger who favors that same bush. It doesn't play out quite like you'd think.

According to imdb, this is the first movie credit for the screenwriting team of Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg. Someone else hire these mofos now.

Danny Leiner is a mad genius who needs to keep making stoner movies. Seems his next is a black comedy about post 9-11 New York, starring Maggie Gyllenhaal and Olympia Dukakis. Oughta be something to see.

HIGH TENSION

From France, a genuine grindhouse/slasher homage that doesn't wink at the audience, pretend to be smarter than the material, or get too postmodern (Hmmm, wonder which hipster director I'm obliquely referring to?). Alex (Maiwenn Le Besco, the alien opera singer in THE FIFTH ELEMENT) and Marie (Cecile De France, the female lead in the new AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS) are two hotties heading out to visit Alex's family in the country to...do something. They say they're gonna work, but at what isn't clear, nor does it matter much. Some guy (Philippe Nahon, the fat guy who actually utters the signature line "Time destroys everything" in IRREVERSIBLE)) in a big rusty truck like the one the Jeepers Creeper drives is staking out the house while getting himself some head -- literally, you know, pleasing himself with a severed head.

The guy wears a workman's jumpsuit and a baseball cap; he looks like a cross between M. Emmett Walsh and Michael Myers. And when he comes to the door in the middle of the night, he doesn't fool around, taking the family out one by one. He doesn't see Marie, though, so it's up to her to play hide and seek (I really hate when people mislabel this kind of thing as "cat and mouse"; for one thing, in the real world the mice never have a chance against the cat) while trying to figure out if she can escape or kill the guy before he figures out where she is.

It's great to see a slasher flick that takes itself seriously. We've gotten so used to the jokey spoofy thing, or even the one-liners in otherwise scary movies, that it's jolting to see one of these films where there's no humor at all, but much violence. Fans of wrestler Cactus Jack will particularly get a kick out of the use of a certain weapon that's rarely seen outside a hardcore WWE bout.

Director Alexander Aja (unknown in the U.S. so far, but that will change soon) knows his cheap thrills. Early in the film, he deliberately fucks with us by using creaking doors and whistling kettles as red herrings. Later on, even while trading in the familiar trappings of the genre, he manages to make the audience wince as, for example, a character removes a piece of broken glass from deep within her foot.

There is a bit of a twist, though, and it doesn't quite work, logically. I'll say no more on that. '70s grindhouse flicks didn't always make sense either -- what matters is that they scare you while you're watching them. And HIGH TENSION certainly does.

Posted by LYT at 2:41 AM | Comments (1)

June 18, 2004

Irony lost on Ray Bradbury

No disrespect to the man's great legacy of written work, but throwing a public tantrum over the title of Michael Moore's FAHRENHEIT 9/11 is not merely silly, it's somewhat hypocritical.

Yes, it's a title inspired by FAHRENHEIT 451. As a title, it is also clearly a parody. Parody is protected speech -- Bruce Willis didn't get all huffy about that Leslie Nielsen movie SPY HARD.

Remind me again what the story of FAHRENEHIT 451 was about?

Oh yeah, the evils of censorship.

Posted by LYT at 1:14 PM | Comments (0)

June 17, 2004

Today's CityBeat reviews

(Note: Shortened versions of reviews for METALLICA: SOME KIND OF MONSTER and TWO BROTHERS ran as part of the LA Film Festival preview. I am not going to reprint those here until the films open for real and CityBeat runs the full versions.)

#Oasis#

Simpleton Jong-Du (Sol Kyung-gu) is released from a Korean prison after serving three years for a hit-and-run accident.

Barely socially competent, and merely tolerated by his brothers, he gets a job as a delivery boy. Clumsily attempting to apologize to the victim�s relatives, he encounters Gong-Ju (Moon So-ri), the severely cerebral-palsied daughter of the dead man. Possibly because she�s the only person around who�s even more helpless than he is, there�s an instant attraction on his part, which leads to a clumsy rape attempt. When that doesn�t work, he leaves his card, and surprisingly enough, Gong-ju calls him the next day.

A slow, secret courtship ensues, occasionally veering into fantasy as Gong-ju imagines herself to be a normal girl while in Jong-du�s presence, but needless to say, handicap aside, it isn�t the most practical idea to date the daughter of your victim, and inevitable problems lie ahead when the two are found out. Especially when new revelations about the accident are uncovered.

Both leads make the romance convincing, and Jong-Du even becomes sympathetic despite being almost insufferably thick-headed. Two slight problems, though. First: how does someone as physically limited as Gong-Ju survive alone in a neat apartment, with friends and family only occasionally looking in on her? And second, because actress Moon So-ri is not actually handicapped, it�s sometimes hard not to laugh at her facial contortions (reminiscent of South Park�s Cartman when he crashed the Special Olympics), or wonder at how flawless her figure looks when she gets naked.

#Grand Theft Parsons#

When country-rocker Gram Parsons died of a drug overdose in 1973, road manager Phil Kaufman stole the body in order to fulfill a pact the two had made in life (and probably on drugs) -- that when one died, the other would cremate the body out in the desert, where both men felt most at home.

Unfortunately, Parsons apparently neglected to let any of his other friends and loved ones in on the deal, and the ensuing cross country chase is the stuff of which movies are made. Johnny Knoxville plays Kaufman, in what�s being hyped as his first dramatic role, but fear not, fans, it isn�t exactly a straight role, just one where he doesn�t get smashed in the face or kicked in the nuts. Instead, he drinks a lot and yells at doofus hippie sidekick Larry (Michael Shannon, who steals the show), having convinced the stoned longhair that the coffin they�re carrying is an empty, previously used model that they�re going to re-sell for big bucks.

On their tail are Parsons� bitter ex Barbara (Christina Applegate), Kaufman�s estranged girlfriend Susie (Marley Shelton), Parsons� grieving father (Robert Forster) and various straight-edged police officers. How they all manage to find each other so easily on empty desert highways is a mystery unexplained, but director David Caffrey (�Divorcing Jack�) keeps the energy level high, and has populated the supporting roles with the most comical-looking character types ever assembled outside of a David Lynch film. Some of the producers of �Grand Theft Parsons� also have their names attached to the likes of �Timeline�, �Speed 2�, and �All About the Benjamins�; this oughta re-balance their karma a tad.

#The Chronicles of Riddick#

Rather than re-hash the �Aliens� stylings of �Pitch Black�, writer-director David Twohy takes this sequel in a whole new direction, vastly expanding his sci-fi universe with several new planets and characters who deliver endless monologues about their own backstory (audiences tended to forgive this same flaw in �The Fellowship of the Ring� because it came from a well-loved book, but not so here). Vin Diesel returns to his best non-animated role to date as intergalactic murderer Richard B. Riddick, lured out of hiding by Imam (Keith David, the only other �Pitch Black� cast member to resurface) to fight an army of imperialist religious nutcases called Necromongers (that the opening scenes are of the Necromongers bombing the shit out of a Muslim desert planet can surely not be coincidence).

Twohy has made his name as a director with solid low-to-medium budget sci-fi/horror fare like �The Arrival� and �Below�; here, working with his first mega-budget, he seems adrift. Too many silly made-up words like �Underverse� and �Furyan� can really kill a serious atmosphere, and some of the CG stuff shows rough edges. Also, many of the fight scenes are cut together in the incomprehensibly edited tradition of �Gladiator� (fans of video games like Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat may notice some blatant homages amid the blurring).

On the plus side, the production design amalgamates �Dune� and H.R. Giger to great effect, and newcomer Alexa Davalos -- in a role originated by Rhiana Griffith in �Pitch Black� -- will soon work her way into many a geek fantasy.

Posted by LYT at 4:34 PM | Comments (4)

CineVegas Photos

(A note to fans: If you want to use these photos, please give credit to this site)

Me, director Greg Hatanaka, and Alex Nohe, trying to pose all professional like against the press backdrop after everyone important had gone.

It's Vegas, baby!

HOOTERS!

A jet-lagged Sarah Lassez tries to catch some sleep, as I get into character as her creepy suitor "Teeth Guy." Sarah was quickly told by security to sit upright and put her shoes on; to do otherwise is a health hazard, it seems.

Me on the 55th floor of the Palms hotel, at Ghostbar for the opening party

The glass panel in the floor of Ghostbar, looking 55 levels straight down

Sarah and Kathleen Robertson argue amongst themselves over who gets to take producer Taka Arai out on a dream date.

Sarah, me, and Norman Reedus

Douglas Dunning and an ice sculpture

Posted by LYT at 1:54 AM | Comments (5)

June 16, 2004

Another quick take

How true is Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story?

Posted by LYT at 10:38 PM | Comments (0)

Review quick take

A French movie called Strayed

Posted by LYT at 4:32 PM | Comments (0)

He's the man now, dog

Those of you who don't read the message board may not have noticed, but regular reader and commenter "sean (connery)" has a blog back up and running at last.

Check it out HERE

Posted by LYT at 2:59 AM | Comments (0)

June 15, 2004

Good and bad news in the music industry

THE BAD: INXS are planning a major comeback, with a new lead singer who will be determined by a TV reality show produced by Mark Burnett.

THE GOOD: Creed broke up!

On an unrelated note, the comments on the Shrek 2 review continue to increase on a semi-regular basis, most of them more hostile than the last. It's interesting to me how someone reading Rotten Tomatoes would seek out the negative reviews of a film they've already seen, follow the link knowing they're gonna disagree, and then in some cases build up an argument against me by taking one thing from this website or the review and using it to discredit me as a person.

Some day, a hip psychologist who's on the ball will write a scholarly tome about the psychology of trolling.

It probably won't be my mom -- she doesn't have an Internet connection at home.

Posted by LYT at 3:26 PM | Comments (3)

June 13, 2004

CineVegas day 2 -- Know Your Role/Shut Your Mouth

Two signs you're not yet taken seriously as an actor:

1. You try to take one of the gift bags in the hospitality suite that are reserved for actors. The guy gives you one, then a publicist yanks it from your hands.

2. You get in the limo bus with all the other cast members. You're asked to leave and get on the other bus with Douglas Dunning. Ironically, it's not the short bus -- the limo-bus is the short bus.

Anyway, I spent the day on the Vegas strip. Last time I was here, I did the strip at night when many things were closed. This trime, full daylight. Tried to park at the movie theater, but they charge $3. If this were Westwood, I wouldn't blink. But it's Vegas, and parking everywhere else is free. So fuck that. I parked at Aladdin instead.

Went to the Coca Cola store, and bought a large Mello Yello. Was disappointed to see that even though Fanta and Sprite have their own merchandise lines, there is not one product with the Diet Coke logo on it. Diet Coke rules. I say that because I'm totally gay.

Next door is a four-level M&Ms store. They're showing a 3-D movie about M&Ms. If I feel particularly inspired, and don't kill too many brain cells, I may write a full-on review for your reading pleasure later.

Being in Vegas without a watch is tough. Casinos famously hide their clocks so you lose track of time. There's one tower on the strip that has the time, and that became my sole point of reference.

And I still almost missed my movie. Finding the parking garage inside Aladdin is an adventure in itself, and then once you're out, it turns out that half the streets in Vegas come to dead-ends. Had to drive several miles the wrong way just to get going the right way. But I got to UNTIL THE NIGHT right as it started.

I will not review the film proper, as I'm in it and such would be unethical. But I can give my impressions.

This was a new cut since the version I saw, and it's tighter. Everything that was narratively unclear before is now clarified. Sarah Lassez's topless scene is back in. None of my stuff has been reinserted, but I'm still the last thing anyone sees if they stay for the end credits. That's appropriate -- I'm a big proponent of sitting through credits.

Kathleen Robertson is better in this version too. I don't know if Greg found some better takes or what. Some of the stuff is chronologically rearranged, which is interesting.

A certain other New Times critic has a cameo that gets good laughs.

When my huge head came up on the screen at the end, a guy two seats down said, "Yeah, just what I needed to see." I decided to freak him out a li'l bit, so I turned and said, "Dude, that's my close-up!"

The party on this night was held way out of town, at some place called something like Green Valley. They had a pool that had been artifically augmented with sand, in and out of the water. Food included fresh cracked crab claws.

Norman Reedus finally arrived, too late for the movie but in time to party. He and Sarah both seemed mildly disappointed that our scene had been cut, but maybe I flatter myself. Sarah told me that at another festival, she got bumped from the bus in favor of a certain supermodel's sister. As a result, she missed her own movie.

Douglas had taken the bus to the Stratosphere, and walked six miles to the Palms with all his luggage. Before dawn, he would make the same journey in reverse. He had been down to the Reagan library for the memorial. Ironically for someone so broke, he's a big Reagan/Thatcher fan. He liked GW Bush's memorial speech, says Bush isn't just someone who's in love with his own voice. "When you're an actor like I am, you can tell. Some people talk just to hear themselves talk," he said, and then proceeded to reiterate his point a couple times over.

We discussed his upcoming dvd THE SALAMANDER. I told him I had heard it and it sounded good. I mention that I'm not so audible on the FRESHMEN dvd. "That's because you don't have a voice like mine!" he replied.

"Douglas, NO-ONE has a voice like yours except Christopher Lee"

"Yeees, that's probably true. And Patrick Stewart too."

When this party was over, Greg and Douglas and I retreated to the same Lounge as the night before, but it was later and the band was done. Douglas tried to pull rank on me again by saying he was a trained actor and I'm not. I set that record straight. Greg was feeling no pain at this point, and kept saying he'd buy out Douglas' share in his enxt film...with a quarter. He also kept saying something about "the three dimension," which seems to be some sort of private joke with Douglas.

Douglas thinks the f-word is used too much in UNTIL THE NIGHT. He came to this conclusion after talking to a 68-year-old audience member who expressed the same sentiment. Douglas himself is fond of describing others as fuckers, but any attempts to point out the irony of such fell on deaf ears.

Pathfinder rep Christa Hamilton went withy Sarah and Kathleen and a few others to try to crash the Maxim magazine party at the Hard Roock. As I type this, I have no idea if they succeeded or not.

Posted by LYT at 2:43 PM | Comments (5)

CineVegas, day one

I leave Hollywood at around 10 a.m. Stupidly relying on mapquest, I take the 101. It's static to say the least, so I get off asap, and drive surface streets to downtown and then Vermont and then the 10. Not the most direct route.

Anyway, I decide it might be fun to stop at a mall on the way. The mall I choose sucks. Just has a Wal-Mart and not much else. Also, the way the freeway is set up there, it's onea them cloverleaf things, so if you miss it the first time, you can turn back around and find that the side of the road you think you need to be on to turn is also wrong, and the p[osts only tell you this when you're too clsoe to make the switch. And none of the other drivers want to let you change lanes last minute.

By the time I stop to get lunch, I realize I'm at a huge outlet mall. I end up buying new shoes, pretty much carbon copies of my other shoes only cheaper than L.A. prices. The alleged food court at this place is the saddest thing I've ever seen. It's just one Chinese buffet place, and lots of clueless Asians bumping into me as I try to get the hell out. (No insinuation should be made that I think all Asians are clueless. Just this particular batch.)

I get to Vegas, check in at the holiday inn, then head for the Palms, where all the action is going down. Opening party is at the Ghostbar, which looks to be in the lobby.

It's well guarded, but I tell the bouncers that I think my director may have left my name with someone. I name the director and the film, and they're cool with it.

Turns out once you go through the bouncers, you get to an elevator that shoots you up 55 levels to the Ghostbar (in the sky, heh). Once up there, the bigger bouncers turned me away and made me go back down again because I didn't have the proper pass. Being big tough mofos, they were too good to tell me how I might better acquire a pass. Once I got down, the bouncers downstairs said I'd been done wrong, and came up with me to ensure I got in.

I can't add photos from here in LV, but will try to when I get back. Beautiful view of the whole town. And there's a glass section of the floor where you can see straight down to the ground. Yipes.

Dennis Hopper and Dean Stockwell are in the house. If this were L.A., they'd come late and leave early, but it's Vegas baby, and they're there at the start and among the last to leave. Hopper is talking to a different pretty lady every time I look around. The great folks at Dominion 3 hook me up with a press pass, which I wave at the bouncers who didn't wanna let me in. One of them grudgingly says, "Thanks man, I appreciate it."

Wine was free, but nothing else was, except the little plastic Hollywood Reporter fake ice cubes that light up in different colors. For folks whose drinks aren't gay enough.

Eating in Vegas is tough if you don't wanna shell out huge bucks or wait forever in long lines. I go for Panda Express. When I'm done, my director Greg Hatanaka and his lovely lady Christine show up. They took a plane. Seems like a waste to me -- by the time one has successfully navigated LAX, cleared security and all that for the one-hour flight, you might as well just drive the five hours, I think.

The opening night party, at the courtyard of Caesar's Palace, was un-freakin-believable. Fresh sushi, endless desserts, hot chicks wearing naught but body paint, bottles of wine in the gift bags, Blue Man Group and Cirque de Soleil members mingling and deliberately freaking people out, Daisy Fuentes getting some kind of magazine cover girl award. And, of course, Dennis Hopper. This is his festival, it turns out. Hmmm...cold winter in Utah and Robert Redford, or warm desert nights in Vegas with Dennis Hopper? You tell me which rocks harder. The only downside for me was that I couldn't drink at the big bash -- I had developed a sunstroke headache from the desert drive, and didn't want to mess with the aspirin.

After the party, Greg, me, and Alex Nohe (director of BURNING MAN: THE BURNING SENSATION) hung out in the Palms lounge, as a motley band composed of Sexy Rocker Chick, Dreadlocked Guitar Guy, Black Bluesman Bassist, and Ordinary Looking Drummer played a set that veered from "No Woman No Cry" to "Walk This Way," not to mention an obscene No Doubt parody entitled "Underneath My Balls" ("I found your car keys/Underneath my balls!"). Kathleen Robertson, the only star of the movie to arrive so far, finds us there. She assumes from my motley look that I must have cigarettes. A lot of people assume that.

Posted by LYT at 2:08 PM | Comments (1)

June 11, 2004

One last post before Vegas...

MR. KIM JONG-IL, OPEN YOUR GATES! MR. KIM JONG-IL, PAVE OVER THAT DEMILITARIZED ZONE!

There. Now I guess if it actually happens, I get to claim credit for it.

Posted by LYT at 9:45 AM | Comments (1)

June 10, 2004

A real hero to mourn tomorrow

Ray Charles. Dead at 73.

I don't really know enough to write a detailed obit, but damn, who didn't respect this guy?

Posted by LYT at 1:13 PM | Comments (8)

Sometimes ReJeKt remembers that he has a website of his own

Every two months or so, he gets hammered and writes a new post. I check periodically so you don't have to.

Posted by LYT at 12:55 PM | Comments (2)

Review Update

An aging ex-Soviet misses her son in Since Otar Left

and

Just how bad is the Garfield movie? It ain't what you think!

Posted by LYT at 1:19 AM | Comments (1)

June 9, 2004

Showbizzz

I'd like to suggest to all who wish to observe Friday's national holiday of mourning -- respect the dead by staying off the roads. That way, my trip to Las Vegas will be much quicker.

I'm going to CineVegas this weekend, for the U.S. premiere of my feature acting debut in the movie UNTIL THE NIGHT. It's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it appearance onscreen, but then I get a brief bit at the end of the end credits, so stay in your seats, bitches.

And if any old Sunset comrades are reading, yes, technically the first feature I ever shot a scene for was HOLLYWOOD 5, but to date that film has not been released and I have not been permitted to see any footage ("I don't wanna show it to a fuckin' CRIIIIIITIIIIIIIC!" claims the director, who recently appeared in a USA Today article because he shelled out some ridiculous amount of money on an online personal ad, where he probably lied about his height).

Greg Hatanaka, writer-director of UNTIL THE NIGHT, has cast me in a bigger role in his next flick, which will lens over the next three months in time to produce a rough cut by Sundance deadline. I have to grow a beard for it, starting now, and may not be able to shave until the end of August. Not my preferred style, but it's for the character.

I can't spill much on that project -- it doesn't have a title yet, and Greg's being real "method" with his directing, only telling each actor what they absolutely need to know. I'm told I get a good death scene, though.

In addition, I just got asked to audition for an upcoming TV show, in which I would appear as myself. To say any more would be premature, but here's hoping that might pan out.

But back to Vegas -- all the major cast members will be in attendance (as will Greg), including Norman Reedus, Kathleen Robertson, Sarah Lassez, Michael T. Weiss, Sean Young, and most importantly the madman who calls himself Douglas Dunning. If you're in the area, come out and see us.

Greg tells me he's added in some nudity since the last rough cut I saw. I applaud him (the nudity is not mine, btw).

Posted by LYT at 6:15 PM | Comments (0)

June 8, 2004

Something more frivolous

At another site I frequent, someone asked who I'd invite for dinner, and why, if I could have any five people, living or dead.

My answer:

Mark Twain -- You know he'd be a damn good conversationalist.

My local sushi chef -- we want the dinner to be good, after all.

Jesus -- in case we run out of wine or sushi.

Osama Bin Laden -- because then we'd know where he is.

Jennifer Garner -- she's single, a fellow USC alumnus, and is not gonna go home with Jesus (celibate), Osama (a bastard), Twain (too old to get it up), or the sushi chef (he doesn't speak much English). That would leave me.

UPDATED: As clarified by the commenters below, I misunderstood one of Jaye's old anecdotes - JG is not a USC alumnus. All the better for her. ReJeKt is still a buttmunch.

Posted by LYT at 10:33 PM | Comments (8)

Just your friendly neighborhood conformist...

"Cecile DuBois" writes "fellow blogger Luke Thompson cheered when his gay pals cheered at [Reagan's] death. He's sweet, but it is horrible to take joy in someone's end. But Luke follows the crowd, which is a natural thing for anybody to do."

I wrote back: "Luke follows the crowd"

Now that's a grouping of four words I haven't heard in a long time.

Note: She attends a liberal-minded school where her conservative ideas are often given short shrift or mocked, by teachers sometimes. I can sympathize, because if the situation were reversed, it'd be exactly where I was at her age -- in the Smoky Mountains during Gulf War I.

Posted by LYT at 4:45 PM | Comments (7)

Enough about the dead old guy; back to movies

Now, if you want to talk about Reagan's cinematic legacy, that's another story (though it would have to include his naming of names for HUAC and shameful tenure as SAG president). On screen, the man's got charisma. But we knew that.

I've been watching several older movies recently, and just so some of you can compare what I think of some past releases as opposed to today, I figured I'd share.

ANNIE HALL

I'm not much of a fan of Woody Allen, and I always assumed that's because he's been fading recently in terms of talent -- even many of his staunchest supporters couldn't bring themselves to endorse HOLLYWOOD ENDING (He makes a bad movie...and they love it in FRANCE! Stop, yer killing me! Those French sure do love stuff that sucks!). I think his stand-up is funny, in fact the scene in ANNIE HALL where he does stand-up is the funniest scene to me. As for the rest of the film, I imagine it was probably more ground-breaking when it came out. I appreciate the self-reflexive style, the way Woody inserts himself into flashbacks, gets random people to back-up the case he's making to us (the audience), and so forth, but I can't say it really makes me laugh.

Fundamentally, my problem is this: why should I care about a whiny nerd who doesn't have the balls to take any chances, yet somehow manages to date women way out of his league, only to totally screw up his relationships with them? And why is it funny when he digs up hoary old jokes like the Groucho Marx one about joining a club? Nowadays we call that "re-gifting." Or "postmodernism." I want to slap the guy and take the chicks he's driving away with his B.S. How hard is it to pick up a crab and throw it in boiling water?

[Addendun: I may have gotten my "joining a club" jokes confused. Allen doesn't want to be in a club that would have him, and Marx wants to beat you over the head with the one he joins. Either way, it isn't funny when Allen's "character" delivers it.]

It is fun to spot the brief early appearances by John Glover, Jeff Goldblum, and (in a slightly less brief role) Christopher Walken. Any movie with those three in should be gold, if only Woody weren't in it as well. If you find him funny and relatable, fair enough -- but I don't.

SEVEN YEARS IN TIBET

I was expecting the worst -- everyone calls this film "Seven Hours in a Theater." But really, it's pretty good, once you get past Brad Pitt's Ahnuld accent. Director Jean-Jacques Annaud doesn't do fast-paced, it's true, but every scene is purposeful -- I paused the film to take bathroom breaks, because I didn't want to miss any of it.

I think the Asian hottie who gets it on with David Thewlis is also in Annaud's new one TWO BROTHERS, but I need to find out if that's really the case. She's a good discovery nonetheless.

And naturally, you have to get past the notion that the heroes are basically Nazis. Disillusioned Nazis, yes. And by the look of it, they never killed any Jews, or anyone else. Plus the Dalai Lama liked them.

It spans several genres en route to the end. First it's a mountain climbing movie, with the Austrian climbers out to glorify Germany. Then they learn that war has broken out, and are promptly captured by the British, and it becomes a prison flick. Once the inevitable great escape happens, it's a fugitive movie. Then, in Tibet, when Brad meets Lama, it turns into a kid/mentor movie. Towards the finale, it becomes kind of a war movie. All the way through it's beautiful to look at. (You're a fag. Heeh heeh heeh! -- ed. Dude, I told you you're a fictional construct. Go back to Mickey Kaus' site.)

Anyway, if you were put off by the reviews when it came out, give the flick a chance on DVD, especially if you like Annaud's other movies like THE BEAR and ENEMY AT THE GATES.

SPARTACUS

Another long movie, and Stanley Kubrick's most conventional Hollywood epic.

Love love loved the gladiator stuff at the beginning. Charles Laughton owns. Peter Ustinov deserved all the credit he got. Kirk Douglas looks a bit anachronistic, but is still a badass so we'll let that slide. So far, way better than GLADIATOR.

Once the slave revolt happens and it becomes a movie about war strategy...not so much. The romantic interludes between Spartacus and Slave Hooker Chick are cheesy as all git-out.

Roman Senate stuff = good. Funny how the political discussions seem relevant to today, just as they probably did when the film came out.

The bath-house scene was seemlessly re-integrated, and I certainly did not notice that Anthony Hopkins dubbed Laurence Olivier's dialogue for it.

And then the final battle -- kickass. When logs of flame are rolling down the hill and crushing opponents, it has an effect, because unlike today, you know it isn't CGI. That's real fire, and it's rolling over real guys somehow. Ouch. TROY copied this to lesser effect. BRAVEHEART owes a lot to the sequence as well.

The aftermath is perhaps the most memorable. Everyone remembers the "I'm Spartacus!" scene. And Spartacus having to fight Antoninus to the death, with the winner getting crucifixion, is pretty grim and brutal for the era.

All in all, where the movie is flawed, it's due to following the cinematic conventions of the era. When it excels, it transcends the time (except Douglas' hairdo). Dunno if I'd re-watch it many times, but I respect its epic nature for sure.

Posted by LYT at 1:28 AM | Comments (1)

June 6, 2004

If you're still in tears over Ronnie, go read something else instead

When I found out about Reagan's death yesterday, I was on my way to a birthday party. The folks at the party, mostly gay men, had not heard the news, and when I told them, they stood up and cheered. I joined them.

When either Bush kicks the bucket, I will not gloat, if I'm around. Some of the people I care about most in this world are related to both men, and I will respect their feelings. Not so with RR, at least not on my site.

To explain the line in the post below: the Reagan TV movie that CBS cancelled under pressure featured Reagan saying, about homosexuals with AIDS, "They who live in sin will die in sin." He probably never said those exact words, but his deeds said them for him. And the man never attended church on Sundays as president, much like our current fundamentalist-in-chief.

My favorite obit thus far comes from Counterpunch's Ben Tripp:

"I owe him this: Ronald Reagan made me the scratchy, anarchistic malcontent I am today. Without his influence I might have subsided into the decent-minded futility of the party-line Democrat. It took the Great Communicator to communicate to me the real message of the modern conservative: fuck you.

So here's to Ronald Reagan, our fortieth president, on the occasion of your passing from this life: fuck you back."

I feel no obligation to respect the dead if I never respected them in life. The office, yes; the man, no.

Posted by LYT at 11:05 PM | Comments (14)

June 5, 2004

It's Mourning in America

Those who live in ignorance will die in ignorance.

Posted by LYT at 6:34 PM | Comments (3)

June 4, 2004

We're Number 3,029,535!

Oh, it's true

Posted by LYT at 3:16 PM | Comments (2)

It's official...the coolest toys of the year are on their way

Clive Barker + Todd McFarlane + Circus Theme = THE INFERNAL PARADE

Linked up together, they also make the most twisted toy train set ever.

Posted by LYT at 2:37 PM | Comments (0)

June 3, 2004

CityBeat SOUL PLANE cap

#Soul Plane#

The latest trend in movie-making is to take an �80s comedy premise and remake it with black people in the cast, so in the recently begun tradition of �Love Don�t Cost a Thing� (�Can�t Buy Me Love�), �Johnson Family Vacation� (�National Lampoon�s Vacation�) and the forthcoming �Back to School� remake with Cedric the Entertainer, here comes the black version of �Airplane!� Obviously it�s not going to be as fresh as the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker flick was back in the day, but it�s also nowhere near as funny.

In a tedious build-up that involves the first of the film�s two (yes, two, alas) toilet scenes, young entrepreneur Nashawn (Kevin Hart) sees his dog accidentally killed while traveling on a plane full of boring white people. Winning a huge court settlement as a result, he opts to start his own Afrocentric airline, which he dubs NWA.

That director Jessy Terrero and screenwriters Bo Zenga & Chuck Wilson (not the L.A. Weekly film critic) feel it necessary to explain, in all seriousness, how the over-the-top black airline comes into being should be proof enough that they just don�t �get� the Zucker brothers� type of humor -- the mere absurdity of its existence should be the joke. Other gags in the film are hit-and-miss -- Tom Arnold�s decent as the token dorky white guy, and Snoop Dogg happily spoofs himself. When rapper Li�l John shows up in a cameo, though, it only reminds us how much funnier frequent Li�l John impersonator Dave Chappelle is on a regular basis with similar premises. Stoners will enjoy; everyone else should stay home and watch �Chappelle�s Show�.

Posted by LYT at 7:48 PM | Comments (1)