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April 30, 2005
Regarding those of you who did or did not get contacted
Just so no-one feels slighted...
I came into the hospital with pants and underwear. that's it. No shoes, no shirt, certainly no address book. All I had were the phone numbers and email messages in my head. And as it transpired, none of the people at any of those numbers had any contact info for my UK family.
Now, here's a tiny scold for my UK family: take note of my email address. lyt at lytrules dot com. Easy to remember, huh?
Consider that, almost to a person, your email addresses read something like this: me-and-all-my-family'snicknames@piddlington_wyche/common/freeserve_internethandout.co.uk.eu
This may be some essential English rule, but consider getting a shorter alternate at one of the free sites like hotmail or yahoo. One I might remember in a time of need, and be able to call a friend and say: "Here, email this!"
Also, to those of you who wondered how to reach me -- I was not at all times aware of how you could. So if you're the sort of person who is either never home or never picks up, I might have missed you. If the latter, consider picking up sometimes, as people in harsh situations don't always have callback numbers.
I hope everyone has spoken to me by now that needs to. If not, I do have email access now, as evidenced by my blogging.
Posted by LYT at 2:45 PM | Comments (5)
IMPORTANT - LOCAL FRIENDS WHO HAVE OFFERED HELP
Those of you who want to do something for me - read THIS on the Message Board. Be sure to read the whole thread.
Posted by LYT at 2:41 PM | Comments (1)
the pain in jane stays mainly plain
When I was a kid, I remember children's books about going to the hospital that were all about how much fun it was. Clearly propaganda designed to ease our fears, they did the job. I never had to have surgery until I was 14, but I was not afraid of it at all.
The books are bullshit, though. They leave out or gloss over the key thing that if you're ina hospital, you must first be injured or ill.
Here's the one immutable truth about hospital: Everyone you meet will ask you the exact same set of questions as the last person. They will write down the answers on yet another sheet of paper. You will probably meet ten of them the first day, and at least three per day thereafter. This may be a symptom of bureaucratic inefficiency, and probably is for the most part; also there could be an element of testing to ensure your story stays straight, and an element of distraction to keep you conscious.
I have heard, as have you most likely, that people in great pain pass out. I wished myself capable of that on Sunday. This was worse pain than testicular surgery recovery, worse than back tattooing, worse than the time I once poured salt in a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.
It may not have been measurably worse, if indeed there are objective units like decibels for pain. But in all the other cases I mentioned, there were ways of dealing. Ways to clutch the wound, ways to moderate breathing, ways to flail around that lessenned things a bit. This offered nothing. Nothing made it better. Vomiting made it feel a little better for about 30 seconds, and that was about it. And I refer to induced vomiting -- the only time I puked by accident was when one of the nurses asked if there was vomiting, and I somehow did so on cue. She continued her interrogations as I continued barfing up old Gatorade into the trash.
Anyone who knows me personally would have known something was seriously wrong with me, I think. I was speaking faintly and having trouble choosing my words. But I didn't have the energy to make a scene like the girl who had taken the wrong drugs and was flailing and crying and being strapped down across the way. She got something to knock her out quick.
I just had to keep meeting different people. Interns, nurses...finally got to the doctor, who said he'd get me some pain medication. But he can't produce the shit right there himself, of course; has to get the guy with the keys to the drug cabinet. And that guy was the sort of guy who'd stop to have a conversation with everyone in the hall on the way back.
I checked in around 11. It was maybe 5pm by the time I got a shot that reduced the agony to a typical stomachache. There was absolutely no sense of urgency on anyone's part to get me out of pain, which pissed me off and still does.
One of the questions they ask is if you've had any previous surgery. I had testicular surgery back in Ireland not long before I left. Unfortunately, saying this meant that the doctor's natural first assumption was to have my testes checked, despite their NOT HURTING.
So the first test was an ultrasound, as an old German woman fondled my nuts with Vaseline. As a test, it revealed nothing. As a way to lower my shame threshhold so that nothing subsequent could possibly embarass, it succeeded.
Then I had to do a CAT scan and an X-ray. As part of the CAT, you have to drink a radioactive milkshake (which ought to turn you into a superhero named SHAKEMAN!, but doesn't). Most people hate that part, but I was so dehydrated, and consciously not given anything in case I needed surgery, so it actually tasted good to me. For the CAT you have to hold your breath 20 seconds, though, and I couldn't. Hurt too much.
For the regular x-ray, I had to stand up straight, which was getting tough too. I was starting to need more painkillers.
A shaven-headed guy was wheeled in next to me -- his face was split open and bloodied, and as he saw me he made the sign of the beast with his fingers and banged his head. He'd been in a nightclub brawl ("with niggers" he whispered in my ear) and had gotten beaten up, though he proclaimed his innocence in starting it. "That girl, I heard her say she has a big welt mark on her chest from me punching her," he told the cops, "Can you have your CSI guys do a DNA test on that or something?"
"No sir, they don't really do that."
He talked metal bands with me, and said I should just let him take my organ out and we could go get tequila shots.
I overheard some talk of kidney stones by my doctor, but pretty soon it was unanimous -- my appendix was the problem, and it had to come out.
Surgery took all of 10 minutes, and when I came to, the pain was instantly 50% less at least. It was late at night.
Posted by LYT at 2:15 PM | Comments (0)
April 29, 2005
Almost two years to the day
Yes, that's my best estimate for the first time that I experienced what I thought was a nasty piece of food poisoning that kept me up all night, then migrated down to the lower right abdomen where it felt like a stabwound.
After 24 hours, all was good again. Or so I thought.
My advice now is that if you ever feel anything that you consider the worst pain in your life, get it checked out even if it's gone away. I had maybe six more bouts with the beast. The problem is doctors are often like mechanics -- they can't always figure out what's wrong till it goes really wrong. And the last coupla times I saw a doctor, it was for things that turned out to be in my head.
Until the grand-daddy of them all. Last Thursday night, I drank a scary amount of booze, the next day, a stabbin' sensation down thar. I figured it was the liver. Better give it a break.
Friday for lunch I felt like one of those Carl's Jr. Big Spicy BBQ burgers. Ate it. Felt full, in a bad way. Mild stomachache continued all day. I eat nothing more. Am disappointed to lose my appetite, as a hot-looking new sushi place just opened by the Sunset 5.
Late in the night, the pain kicks in, and I know it's gonna be one of those. I figure it must be e. coli from the burger. Every previous time I've managed to trace it back to chicken in my mind, and have thought salmonella.
My technique developed from previous bouts has been to take a higher-than-recommended dose of Benadryl and sleep off the pain. That doesn't work this time.
I run a bath. Step in and out of it several times during the night, just for a change of sensation. There's no way to deal with the pain, but one still tries.
Day breaks. The all-over pain begins to move into the stabbing pain part. I figure it's ending now.
I still don't feel too good. Bouts of extreme temperature shifts, and fatigue. So I go to the convenience store, load up on Gatorade, Aguas Frescas, and water. Try to rest.
But this time, the stabbing pain increases. Even getting in the bath, rubbing deep heat on it, etc. does nothing (not that it did much before).
At around 10:30 a.m. Sunday I called 911. They said they'd send someone, but with no sirens. If it got worse, I should call back and ask for sirens.
How could it get worse?
It wasn't medics that came, but fire department. Firemen who talked to me like the guys on COPS talk to drunk shirtless dudes.
"Hey, man, whut's goin' on?"
"I'm in intense pain"
"Well, what do you want us to do about it?"
"Help me"
The conversation continues once inside the vehicle along similar lines, with them asking stuff like "You been in pain three days, why didn't you go to the doctor?" "You don't have any friends you can call? Cuz we're gonna charge ya for the ride"
Maybe they thought I was a junkie craving Vicodin. But the plus side is that as soon as we got to the hospital, they took me straight to someone, with no bullshit waiting around. Maybe they believed me by then.
to be continued...
Posted by LYT at 6:35 PM | Comments (7)
April 28, 2005
here comes the pain
The drugs make me wonder who or where I am, especially when I wake up in the night fearing that an episode of South Park has been rigged as an elaborate trap to put my mind into a feedback loop, or that I'm arguing with the paintings on the walls that they can't be Catholic because they don't have 12" figures of themselves, but then they tell me about Obi-Wan Kenobi and General Grievous' bodyguard, and the painting hanging over me drips blood on me, but in a friendly way, you understand. I know when I awake that I have to head down the hall, because there I will find Buzz Bunny (yes, Buzz, the new extreeeeme version of Bugs).
When I get there I see myself in the mirror. Remember. Stomach cramp. Commode. A small emmission of fluid, but the cramp had to be obeyed nonetheless.
I'm not used to drugs. One of these is a strong mofo called Cipro, which you may remember from the fall of 2001 as the only known antidote to anthrax.
If you think the regular smells of bodily emmissions are bad, try to imagine what it would be like if all your secretions smelled like household chemicals. Minus lemon-freshness, of course.
My necrotic appendix shut down my digestive system. Now it has to learn how to work all over again. Wore a diaper out of the hospital and crapped myself three times on the way home. Shame disappears very quickly in these circumstances. In fact, I think I'll actually miss the bedside commode.
Knowing this, reader, and knowing also that a plastic tube in my stomach was ever-pumping red and yellow crud from my insides out, you may understand why I asked for no visitors. Indeed, my natural tendency is to suffer in silence -- that may be bad -- but I was also sparing you. I very much enjoyed the phone calls, though, and Matt and Brian read me some of your well-wishes over the phone. I felt the support, truly, and my friends have all been amazing, those whom I've heard from.
I missed System of a Dwon, and Hitchhiker's Guide. I may have lost my scene in ROMAN. Hope not. But I snatched my life away from gangrene's foul clutches. If there is a sentient deity, her plan for me is not yet fulfilled.
I have read all the amils and heard most of the phone messages. All my info is not to hand at the moment, as I recoup in Carlsbad, but I hope to respond to each and all when I can, to repay some of the kindness. Many of you are as family to me, and I to you. I know this. And know that all your love is returned.
I am on my way back. The last week has been the worst of my life, but since Monday, every day has been exponentially better than the one prior.
Be strong and be well. I'll try to do the same.
--Luke.
Posted by LYT at 6:16 PM | Comments (4)
April 26, 2005
Luke is out of commission
Tech Guy here:
Luke was admitted to the hospital on Sunday with a ruptured appendix and is currently recouping. He says he may out by the end of the week.
We ALL wish him well!
Posted by Tech Guy at 11:28 AM | Comments (14)
April 21, 2005
ROMAN set report
Tuesday afternoon I get a call from Kevin. "We're gonna shoot your stuff tonight." Well, thank goodness I don't have a screening tonight, and that Jaye's Poperratic show isn't happening. Short notice, right? Angela had previously told me that I could bring anythign I want to the role of Abdul, described as a middle-aged man with a strong French accent, but after reading the script pages, I remembered the real guy who most likely inspired the character. The proprietor of a small coffee shop that also sold cigarettes, he was a Frenchman from Algeria who would be hugely enthusiastic if you managed to say a single word of French to him. I had to do him French. No real choice there.
At the same time, I saw a way to bring back my hair. A couple years back, I was in Trader Joes when a guy stopped me, and pointed to my hair. "Ees vairy French!" he gushed, "Ah lahk eet!" This was all the excuse I needed. So on Tuesday afternoon, I bleached my head again, and added colors.
I was told to report to Lucky's pad around 9, and I think I got there at 8:30. I hadn't had dinner, but fortunately neither had most people, so we ordered some awesome pizzas from Bossa Nova. Chris Sivertson, a couple doors down, was editing THE LOST, so star Marc Senter was in the house, shootin' the shit with costar Justin Stone
Vanessa, storyboard artist on THE WOODS, who's been staying at Lucky's for a while, is in ROMAN as a goth girl, and it becomes her.
The newest face was a lead actress with the only-in-Hollywood name of Nectar Rose, who plays Billy Bob Thornton's stripper girlfriend in the new BAD NEWS BEARS remake. She impressed me quite a bit; unlike many other actresses, she was not hung up on vanity and just went with the flow. This is a fairly essential ability when working with Lucky and company.
At around midnight, we headed to the Pig 'N' Whistle -- a restaurant and bar on the side of the Egyptian Theater in Hollywood. Needless to say, it's shitloads more fancy than the original place that inspired the script. It was karaoke night, but hardly anyone was there -- one overweight girl singing "Like a Virgin" to her two friends,a nd a few stragglers. Kinda depressing in a way, but if you ever want non-crowded karaoke, head to the Pig on a Tuesday night.
What you might not know is that in the far back, the Pig has a VIP lounge with a couple beds,a nother bar, and a small stage for private parties. This was where the equipment got stashed, along with a couple cases of beer. It was also near the back exit, so crew came here to smoke. Here we see Angela doing so:
ROMAN has mostly been shot with minimal crew in tight locations, so this was a big change. Kevin (the director of photography on this) has never had such a large amount of technical people, but he adapted well, and remained pretty clear on what he wanted. It is critical for a director and D.P. to be in sync, and when they live and love together, this is pretty much a no-brainer. Kevina and Angela are equal partners on this film, ultimately, though everyone else is listened to too.
There were two scenes being shot. The first one involves Roman (Lucky) and Eva (Nectar) on what I believe is their second date. She's a wild free spirit; he's uptight and silent. The French proprietor (me) tries to draw him out of his shell, but makes a remark that has an unforseen double meaning.
I had no idea how well my stuff was working. Angela isn't one of those directors who tells everyone they were great every time, but since she wasn't correcting me, I assumed it was passable. We did some improvising,a nd all of us rolled with it pretty well. Nectar had to eat quite a bit of whipped cream, which looked gross.
Justin Stone was the sole background performer, and he stayed as still as a stuffed animal throughout, even between takes.
We wrapped that scene after about six takes; I insisted on a still before everyone reset, so Kevin snapped this one:
Which reminds me: my "costume" was a T-shirt made by my sisters, Raphaelle and Nicole Ayach. Back during the early days of Gulf War II, I asked them, as Paris residents, to find me a T-shirt with the French flag on it. They couldn't find one, so they made it by sewing a French flag onto an Eiffel tower shirt. Girls, your work is now immortalized.
The second scene takes place on a later Roman-Eva date. I was to be milling around in the background of this one. Our happy couple runs afoul of some Goths in this scene
One of the Goth girls, unfortunately not in any of my photos, was heavily tattooed and wearing almost nothing. Just take my word -- super-smokin'.
Anyway, fans of MAY know what Lucky thinks of faux-morbid poseurs, and the difference between them and true freaks is evident in the scene.
At about 5:30 a.m., we returned to the McKee pad.
Lucky: "I don't wanna be a bastard or anything, but, are you guys leaving now?"
we thought he was kicking us out, until..
Lucky: "Because I wanna watch the footage! I'm so hardcore!"
So we did. And I was amazed and happy at my own stuff. Those present, seeing it now on a large TV, saw more than they had while shooting, and loved it. I think I sounded a bit like Star Wars Episode I's Watto, the blue flying guy who enslaves little Ani, except Watto was an offensive mid-east caricature rather than French.
At around 6:15 I started to fear for my parking meter and left.
For even more, photos, though, check out my Buzznet photoblog.
[Readers - please tell me if the photos in this post aren't showing up]
Posted by LYT at 10:55 PM | Comments (2)
Review Update
"No more soccer!" declares small-time thug Sing (writer/director/star Stephen Chow) as he vigorously stomps on a child's ball. In the context of Kung Fu Hustle, it's a pathetic attempt by Sing to make himself look tough. The larger signal, however, is to followers of Chow's work: It's a direct reference to his last international hit, 2001's Shaolin Soccer, and a declaration that this new film will blow the previous one away. It does."
the rest HERE
"There's nothing unpredictable at all about The Game of Their Lives, especially since the match in question, against England, is firmly on the record, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Most sports movies -- even those based on fictitious athletes -- have a predictable ending anyway. The writer-director combo of Angelo Pizzo and David Anspaugh know this well, having already made Hoosiers and Rudy together."
Read the REST
"Jake "Li'l Anakin" Lloyd and James "Passionate Christ" Caviezel are most famous for portraying screen heroes created by virgin birth, so it makes a strange kind of sense that their team-up in Madison feels about as passionless as an immaculate conception."
read the WHOLE THING
short New Times take on Amityville Horror:
As cheesy as the original 1979 haunted-house movie could be at times, its scares were rooted in the type of things you believed could happen: swarming flies, sudden waves of nausea, eyes glowing red in the distant night. This new version, all green filters and oversaturated colors, populated with computer-generated, Clive Barkeresque hallucinations, in no way feels like “a true story,” and the scene with the flies attacking the priest feels like an afterthought. Yes, there are more cheap shocks this time around, and they’re fun to watch, but you’ll have forgotten most of them by the time you make it out to your car. As family patriarch George Lutz, Ryan Reynolds is no James Brolin, and he fails to shake the Van Wilder demeanor that ensures he should never be cast in anything but comedies again. And Eddie Murphy’s infamous objection to the original story still stands: Why don’t these white people just leave the house when they figure out there’s a ghost in the house?
Posted by LYT at 2:41 AM | Comments (0)
April 20, 2005
Tired now. Write later.
Was at an all-night shoot for ROMAN last night. Pics and report soon.
Posted by LYT at 3:32 PM | Comments (0)
April 19, 2005
My condolences to all Catholics
You got an even more reactionary leader than the last one.
Posted by LYT at 12:57 PM | Comments (2)
April 18, 2005
THE BIGGEST LYTRULES.COM CONTEST EVER
Do I have your attention? Good. Read this whole thing, because the prizes are pretty damn good.
You've all seen the LYTrules.com Cafepress store -- if not, click on the blogad at the right side of the screen.
I am allowed to add a few more shirt designs still, but I'm all out of designs. That's where you come in. Design me a shirt, and I will put it up there for sale.
There are specifics that must be adhered to for this design:
1. Available shirts for design are white longsleeve, white sweatshirt, fitted white tee, sleeveless white tee, and value tee. I believe the sweatshirt and value tee only feature a design on one side, but the others are front and back. When entering, please specify which one you are designing for.
2. Image should be maximum of 10 x 10 inches each (you should submit two such images if you're submitting for a shirt that takes front and back -- or just design one side and I'll use an existing design for the other if we pick yours), preferably as big as it can be within that space while retaining its dimensions. Send image(s) as a .jpg file to 'contests at lytrules dot com.'
3. Aesthetic requirements: the URL ("LYTrules.com," "www.lytrules.com," or any other acceptable working way of writing it) must be CLEAR and LEGIBLE on either front or back as part of the overall design.
4. All designs must conform to Cafepress requirements. Basically, this seems to mean don't imitate something trademarked too closely, and don't use anything you don't have the right to use, like celebrity likenesses. You may use any image of me or the LYTrules logo, but you do not have to. Also, alas, no profanity or offensive language (their rule, not mine), so you can't do one that says "Fag Rainbow Hair."
5. Disclaimer blahblahblah: By entering your design, you grant LYTrules.com the right to use it as a shirt design in perpetuity without further compensation (though you will always be credited as the artist/designer). If none of the entries are satisfactory, we reserve the right not to declare a winner or award a prize.
GRAND PRIZE: One prize package consisting of DVDs of THE MONSTER CLUB, FRESHMEN, and the brand-new release UNTIL THE NIGHT, plus a classic black LYT-shirt and Cafepress.com "LYTrules" bumper sticker.
Selected worthy runners up will receive DVDs of UNTIL THE NIGHT, the brand new DVD of Gregory Hatanaka's directorial debut, starring Norman Reedus, Kathleen Robertson, Sarah Lassez, Michael T. Weiss, Missy Crider, and Sean Young. Also featuring cameos by Gregory Weinkauf, Duglas Dunning, William Margold, and of course LYT. Includes deleted scenes (with more LYT) plus commentary track by Gregory Hatanaka, Kathleen Robertson, and LYT.
Contest deadline is May 15. Get to designing!
Posted by LYT at 2:41 PM | Comments (7)
And how was your weekend?
Spent mine writing the bulk of the preview capsules for a summer movie preview. Every year, I forget how much work this is.
Take the majority of the summer's releases, and look up the director, writers, actors, premise on each one. Then make a prediction as to how it might turn out. That can really add up and eat away the hours. But now I feel fully up-to-speed on the season.
Anyway, I got all typed out, hence no blogging. Not much else to write about right now anyway...though I see bloody-disgusting.com finally announced Lucky McKee's exciting project "Roma."
Yep, turns out it's about tomatoes. Who knew?
Posted by LYT at 1:34 AM | Comments (0)
April 15, 2005
Lights, Cameras, Angels
Monday night I went to the big opening party for "City of Lights, City of Angels," a festival of French films that runs annually in L.A. Fans of French cinema and French celebs come out in force.
David Ehrenstein, of course, is the biggest French film fan I know. He was also the first person at the party I could identify, and as is usual, he quickly rattled off to me a list of names of actors and directors I'd never heard of, totally shaming me in this area. I responded with some smart-ass remark about how everyone in the room was probably a leftist (David Scott will know why). David E., of course, was able to immediately name two right-wing French philosophers off the top of his head.
The catering was done by La Cachette of Beverly Hills, and was fabulous. Rare ahi in crispy shells, tomato tart, duck prosciutto, and shrimp with mango chutney are some of the dishes I remember. The oddest one was an ice cream cone filled with smoked salmon and topped with sweet pickled ginger-flavored ice cream.
I told the server, "I'll try it, but it sounds totally insane."
"Aren't we all, a little bit?" he replied in a French accent.
I'm pretty sure I saw Hugh Jackman across the room, though I admit it could've been Dermot Mulroney with really good makeup. Julie Delpy, whose attendance David E. had predicted, was indeed there too.
But my agenda was not to spot stars. Rather, I was hoping to practice my French accent for the upcoming role in ROMAN. Initially I thought of calling my sister Raph in Paris, but I didn't really want to have a long-distance cell-phone conversation interrupted by whatever she'd be doing at the moment and iffy connections.
Then I remembere I have a French friend right here in town, Emmanuelle Richard. She was the one who suggested I attend.
So anyway, I was carting a script under my arm, and I'm sure all the industry types were terrified I'd start pitching to them. What I really wanted, though, was for Emmanueele to read my lines out loud just so I could hear a native French-speaker say them with a proper accent.
(Technically, the character of Abdul is likely to be Algerian-American, but I don't know anyone with a specific Algerian-French lilt, and suspect broad French is what the film-makers want anyway. Only the LA Weekly's critic Ella "But Johnny Depp has the wrong kind of Scottish accent!" Taylor cares about such things.)
Emmanuelle's husband Matt Welch was also in full effect, and I ended up talking to him for most of the evening, since most anyone else I tried to talk to politely excused themselves, and David E was busy snapping photos. Being happily married, Matt has no compunctions about wearing a fruity pink vest with rhinestone-like buttons. He has an excuse, sort of -- it's a souvenir from Prague.
Not that I should be slagging off anyone else's fashion sense -- just saying that you know a guy is not looking to get a date in that. Matt's really happy that you can now read this blog in alternate colors, because he has some sort of problem with white text on black. With those glasses he wears, he's sort of like the Malcolm X of liberating blogs from single-color-schemes.
The movie screening afterwards was Claude Lelouch's MEN AND WOMEN. Someone at the party reminded me that this was the film that made Lelouch so mad at critics and the public that he bought all the tickets to several shows in Paris himself. I remembered that Lelouch's AND NOW LADIES AND GENTLEMEN is one of the worst films I've seen in the past couple of years, though variety's Robert Koehler, who loved it, insists to me that it will be seen as a classic in years to come. Robert's threshold for boring movies is higher than that of most people I know, including film critics.
It took forever to get the movie started, as there were about 15 different introductions first, among them Gil Cates, Costa-Gavras, and finally Lelouch. I had sampled liberally from the free wine so as to like the movie more.
And it was way better than AND NOW LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, but it was one of those movies with different storylines that don't really intersect but the characters occasionally cross paths. I'm tired of this kind of film.
So there are these two homeless guys, one of whom claims to be God and seems to know everything, and there are a couple of street buskers who become famous musicians only to have an acrimonious break-up when they get famous, and there's a pizza mogul buying a house, and a couple having an affair that try to break-up with their significant others at the exact same time...
and then Lelouch shows up as a parody of himself, a pretentious asshole director trying to make a movie about some of the stuff we've already seen. Props to him for that.
But after two hours, it still wasn't over, and I felt like it should be. So I left. Not a bad movie, not a great one, just momentarily okay.
The festival is still going on. For more info, go to www.colcoa.com.
Posted by LYT at 4:32 PM | Comments (2)
DAMMIT! No WOODS trailer with AMITYVILLE!
I just got back from a midnight screening of the new AMITYVILLE HORROR. The only trailers attached were for DOMINO, INTO THE BLUE, and STEALTH.
What the fuck, MGM, do I have to do all the publicity myself? This was a prime opportunity missed, what with it being MGM's last horror movie, and a common cast member in Rachel Nichols.
Here's hoping my screening was an anomaly. But don't count on it.
Posted by LYT at 1:57 AM | Comments (1)
April 14, 2005
And in more toy news...
A rather unusual line of Star Wars figures may be coming to stores later this summer.
(the plan is for exclusive two-packs, I hear)
Posted by LYT at 6:35 PM | Comments (1)
Lucky!
Some pretty sweet toy news.
Posted by LYT at 11:51 AM | Comments (1)
Fan Mail
From someone with the macho moniker of momee mm, a.k.a. bur_111@yahoo.com :
"You gonna die soon,man. I have had enough of your bullshit. You have too little time to live."
(Warrior? Is this you?)
Posted by LYT at 12:25 AM | Comments (1)
Review Update
"You may be tempted to take the kids to a new flick called Down and Derby, but you need to nip that urge in the bud. Not that it's terrible, or likely to elicit any kind of emotional response whatsoever, for that matter. But you will regret paying money to see something that unfolds rather like something you'd watch on TV when you're ill and bedridden and confronted with nothing else but daytime soaps."
The rest HERE
New Times quick take on Double Dare
Nothing to do with the ultra-gross Nickelodeon game show of the early ’90s, this documentary follows charming, blond, lip-pierced New Zealander Zoe Bell, whose first big job was as stunt double for Lucy Lawless on Xena, as she goes to Hollywood to audition for Kill Bill. If you're a straight male and don't find her to be one of the most desirable women on earth after all this, check your pulse. Unafraid of taking a 35-foot tumble or of enthusiastically charging through a fountain at a VIP party, Zoe is mentored by Jeannie Epper -- a former stand-in for Lynda Carter on Wonder Woman -- who, now in her sixties, continues to work in the stunt business, as most of her family members had done. Unlike the recent female wrestling documentary Lipstick and Dynamite, Double Dare doesn't present its women as freaks or revel in cheap laughs like old people swearing -- more radically, it simply treats them as people doing what comes naturally. And yes, they kick ass.
Posted by LYT at 12:09 AM | Comments (3)
April 13, 2005
I Do Remember
I just watched the controversial "The Reagans" movie on DVD. This is the movie intended for CBS that got pulled due to protests and aired on Showtime instead.
My thoughts:
-There's a lot of ex-post-facto history going on. Republicans in the '70s are shown predicting the imminent end of communism, which seems unlikely to me. Nancy (Judy Davis) seems aware in Ronnie's first term that he has early-onset Alzheimers. Reagan (James Brolin) is depicted as pro-disarmament from the getgo, with his hawkish advisors, notably Al Haig, arguing against it.
Most of all , though, Reagan is generally depicted as an amiable crowd-pleaser. This is certainly a true aspect of him, but he was also a right-wing hardass, and there's only one scene that depicts this aspect -- him breaking up UC Berkeley riots as governor of California. It feels waaaay out of character for the movie, as every other controversial decision he ever made is portrayed as the result of either naivete or urging from others.
-Ronnie's controversial appearance at Bitburg cemetary in Germany is interestingly done. The way it's shown here, he knows that it's a bad decision to go, and is told after the decision has been made that there are SS soldiers there, but he goes through with it anyway.
-The line of dialogue that started the controversy is gone. Originally, Republicans objected to a scene where Nancy tries to tell Ronnie about the dangers of AIDS, and he responds "Those who live in sin will die in sin." That line is gone (guess it's okay to be a homophobic bigot, but you can't be obviously uncompassionate about it). Now, he merely ignores her.
-Nancy comes off far worse than Ron, as a careerist whose attempt to appear good for the cameras ended up wrecking her relationships with her children (the actress who plays Patti is HOT, btw!)
-Poor George H.W. Bush never appears once.
-There's a really lame overused metaphor about Ron's career as a lifeguard, with occasional slo-mo shots of young Ron trying to save a life.
-Brolin's Reagan acts like "old man Reagan" from the moment we see him, even back in the '50s. He's always portrayed as the consummate nice guy who would never intentionally hurt anyone, sugar-coating the fact that he vehemently acted out against those he saw as communist sympathizers.
Overall: The protesters really had little to worry about. The general sense one gets is that Reagan was a well-meaning chap who was occasionally misled. Brolin, a Democrat, may have been trying too hard to be equananimous -- if this nice guy had been the actual president during the '80s, liberals wouldn't have hated him so much.
The end titles both credit and blame Reagan. They praise him for the end of the Soviet Union and an improved economy, but blame him for AIDS, and something else I don't remember right now.
I imagine viewers of any political stripe might find themselves wanting a more opinionated biopic.
Posted by LYT at 4:04 AM | Comments (0)
April 12, 2005
Some clips of "Warrior" in action at U Conn.
Courtesy of following the links at alicublog, I found THIS. Scroll to the end for Quicktime movies of gray-haired, fat Warrior acting like an obnoxious dumbass.
Funny how political writers are now jumping on this thing. Kinda makes Warrior seem almost legit as a right-wing pundit.
Posted by LYT at 10:55 PM | Comments (1)
A follow-up on that Ultimate Warrior incident
Apparently, Warrior doesn't like being called a racist.
Be sure to read the whole thing.
(hat tip to Swass! at the RTM message board)
Posted by LYT at 12:05 PM | Comments (1)
April 10, 2005
Readers Needed
...for feedback on the Unnamed Screenplay.
My collaborator appears to have large numbers of people who will swiftly and insightfully offer their opinions on our script. I know my friends are insightful, but many are so busy that they cannot be swift.
I need your help. My collaborator needs your help -- he doesn't want all the feedback coming from his side, and neither do I.
If you accept, I will send you the script as a text file. You agree to keep it confidential, and that you will send me feedback (good or bad or both) within a few days.
Anyone up for it?
Posted by LYT at 4:37 PM | Comments (4)
One-sentence review of SAHARA
While I'd be happy to see another cinematic adventure for Dirk Pitt, I don't ever want to see another Breck Eisner film in my life.
Posted by LYT at 12:26 PM | Comments (1)
New movie on our film page
Matt King's "Adventures of Gay Man," made by the two of us during Superbowl halftime, is now posted. He and I are the only cast and crew, save one shot by his gf Theresa.
No offense is intended. We just think it's funny.
Posted by LYT at 12:51 AM | Comments (0)
April 9, 2005
All Roads Lead to Roman
With MAD COWGIRL almost done, my next acting project is ROMAN. I can't recall if I've given many details on this project before, but it's likely to be the highest profile thing I've done so far.
ROMAN was a screenplay Lucky McKee wrote when we were both at USC. At the time, he promised me a cameo in it if/when it eventually got made. 10 years on and he's been true to his word.
The script is neatly divided into two parts, one of which takes place six months after the other. On three occasions, three different crews have filmed the first part. But two of them failed to follow up for various reasons, and the third went into stasis for quite a while...
...until now. As soon as THE WOODS was final and complete, things started happening in the Lucky McKee sphere again, and producers came onboard to finance the second part.
Though he's not directing. This time around, he's the STAR.
And the director? MAY herself, Angela Bettis.
D.P.? Kevin Ford, creator of so many underground films like LOST IN THE BUSH.
ROMAN is like a flip-flopped version of MAY in more than just the crew aspect. Where MAY dealt with a woman trying to reach out to the world, being rejected, and ultimately spiralling into murder, ROMAN begins with murder, and follows the man who did it as he tries to stay reclusive but is drawn back into the larger world.
My character is a French-Algerian waiter named Abdul, who, uh, sports the colors of the French flag (yeah, that's it) in his hair.
Pierre the P.A. will be proud.
Posted by LYT at 2:51 PM | Comments (0)
April 8, 2005
New Trailer Trash colum
About time, right?
Posted by LYT at 9:53 PM | Comments (0)
The Ultimate Travesty
Former WWF champion The Ultimate Warrior, nowadays a right-wing loon who thinks of himself as a political leader, was invited to speak at the University of Connecticut by the College Republicans.
After he made racist and homophobic remarks, the crowd got furious. Warrior was booed out of the building, and now offers a "brief" 24-paragraph defense of himself, blaming everyone else.
The College Republicans apologized, but are still pissed off that the offended crowd members haven't apologized back.
Of all the ex-wrestlers one might invite to give a well-articulated speech (The Rock, maybe, or Jesse Ventura), how the hell did they settle on Warrior? Were the Bushwhackers unavailable?
Posted by LYT at 9:46 PM | Comments (0)
A long overdue review update
Didn't post one of these last week due to busy-ness, so we've got a few today...
"When was the last time you walked out of a theater feeling shell-shocked, saying to anyone who would listen, in language more profane, "Dude, that was some seriously messed-up stuff"? Not your garden-variety messed-up stuff, mind you, like in Saw. Not the messed-up revelations of political docs. We're talking the sort of messed-up stuff in which human beings devise insanely elaborate ways to be cruel to each other, the kind of psychological nastiness you not only wouldn't wish on your worst enemy but probably are not nearly twisted enough to conceive. "
"The Groden family lives out in the middle of the New Mexico desert, far from main roads. They grow, harvest, and/or kill all their own food, own their own home, and make what little money they need from crafts. They have no phone or indoor plumbing, and they haven't paid taxes in several years. Since no one else is around, they can even walk around naked with impunity.
Folks, welcome to the hippie-style utopia of Off the Map"
"If you've never learned anything from the movies, you will take home at least one nugget of wisdom from Ethan Mao: 'Taking it up the ass is not as bad as you think.' "
quick take on Ice Princess
and one from CityBeat...
#LIPSTICK AND DYNAMITE#
Followers of current WWE wrestling shows are familiar with octogenarian ladies Fabulous Moolah and Mae Young as caricatured punchlines, old women whose sex drives and wrinkled bodies are played for cheap laughs and gross-outs (Young infamously gave birth to a disembodied human hand in one of the worst moments of TV ever broadcast). Director Ruth Leitman seems to be trying to give them and their other contemporaries due credit as trailblazing feminists of mid-century wrestling, but, as Leitman admits, she knew nothing about pro-wrestling before making the movie, and she still doesn’t seem to know much. The only fans we see here are portrayed as lunatics or idiots, and Leitman takes at face value some of the claims that the matches were completely legit. Granted, veteran wrestlers never reveal the worked nature of sports-entertainment, but surely someone else could have.
Leitman appears to respect the toughness of these old broads, but the kitschy choices of music and stock footage make everything play like a joke, and a particularly unpleasant one at the expense of Gladys “Killem” Gillem, the oldest interviewee, whose love of fishing is played for easy yuks. Fans will enjoy the few nuggets of information that are new, and it’s fun to see Young as a tough tomboy brawler back in the day, but will be maddened that Leitman doesn’t press further into truly interesting areas -- the resentment many of the women have for Moolah as a promoter, say, or the briefest hint that Moolah and Young may be more than just friends.
Posted by LYT at 12:27 PM | Comments (0)
April 6, 2005
What Would LYT Do?
New shirt design and color in the Cafepress store.
The idea came to me during a conversation with my father in San Diego a week ago.
Posted by LYT at 4:49 PM | Comments (2)
WrestleMania report continued
Not like anyone cares at this point, But still...
The show kicked off with a new movie parody, a GLADIATOR riff where an effeminate English-accented Commodus confronts a masked man. The audience was torn between whether the masked man would turn out to be Steve Austin or The Rock...it was Austin. (Considering the Rock most represents the concept of wrestle-mania going Hollywood, it's odd he wasn't there)
After the Eddie-Rey match came the highlight of the night -- a six-man ladder match which proved beyond any reasonable doubt that Shelton Benjamin is the best wrestler on RAW today. He still needs a name change, though; something catchier than his real name. I like "Shelly B.", but even his briefly used "Mr. Benjamin" could work. Kane made an entrance that featured several ladders goign up in flames; stagehands would later extinguish them, to massive boos from the crowd.
The finish of the match was weak, and went to Edge, who sucks. Christian or Benjamin should have gone over, as they could use the addedd clout.
At around this point, Eugene came out, making his return from an injury. Eugene's totally tasteless gimmick is that he's retarded, but the fans love him, and if it makes them more comfortable with retarded people, that's a good thing. Eugene talked about how his favorite WrestleMania moment was King Kong Bundy fighting the midgets at WrestleMania III.
Then he got interrupted by Muhammad Hassan, the evil Arab-American who's actually played by an Italian American (though manager Daivari is a legit Arab). Hassan, whose routine is to yell and scream about being discriminated against for being an Arab, beat up on Eugene. The fans knew what was coming, and started chanting "Hogan, Hogan!"
Then, HOLY SHIT, "Real American" blares on the P.A. and HULK HOGAN returns! He cleans house, rips of his shirt, and poses for a long-ass time. He gets a bigger reaction by far than anyone or anything else. I never thought I'd cheer for Hogan, but as a nostalgia act, he's great. And he's still in fair enough shape that he CAN still pull off the posedown.
The Undertaker beat Randy Orton in a rather uninteresting match that was notable only for the interference of Cowboy Bob Orton, sporting his old "loaded" cast.
Trish Stratus beat Playboy cover-girl Christy Hemme. Christy wrestled better than most people thought she would. Trish is so stereotypically hot (in the Pam Anderson mold) that she's having the damndest time getting people to boo her as a villain.
Kurt Angle then fought Shawn Michaels, in a battle of athletes who were once amazing, and after years of injuries are now at about 60% but still better than most everyone else on the roster. My main complaint about Michaels is that he tends to start really slow and boring...as he did here...but once he's warmed up, things get good. At one point they went through a table that I'm pretty sure was suppsoed to break but didn't, which must have hurt.
Crowd was evenly divided on this one, with various cheering sections feuding with each other. I was wearing a Kurt Angle jersey, and marked out hardcore when Michaels tapped out -- part of Michaels' hero gimmick is that he NEVER gives up. Well, he did tonight. Chants of "You tapped out!" followed him to the back.
The biggest embarassment of the card followed. But first, some background...
In the late '90s, shortly before the WWE got really huge again, they tried something called the Brawl-for-all, a boxing/wrestling hybrid tournament that was not scripted, intended to see who the most legit tough guy on the undercard was. In an upset that could not have happened had it been fixed, the unhyped Bart Gunn (the less well-known fake-brother of Bad Ass Billy Gunn) scored several knockouts on established superstars. The WWE got cocky enough to put him in a WrestleMania match that was an unscripted "toughman" boxing bout against legit champion Butterbean. Bart Gunn got his ass handed to him in two punches, and disappeared from pro-wrestling after that.
Why would they try something like this again? This year, real-life sumo champion Akebono was brought in to fight WWE giant The Big Show...in a sumo match. Big Show is huge, but has no sumo experience whatsoever. You see where this is going?
They do lots of stalling, then Akebono tosses Show out of the ring easily. Who the hell comes out well here?
Akebono scores a big payday, but will undoubtedly lose credibility for it on the sumo scene, and gains no status by beating a rookie.
Big Show comes out looking weak and beatable, which hurts his gimmick.
The only possible way anyone comes out a winner is if Akebono is quitting sumo to join WWE. If that's the case, he's made an auspicious debut.
Finally, there were the two title matches: Eminem wannabe John Cena versus evil George Bush Republican/faux-redneck John Bradshaw Layfield, and bodybuilding monster Batista versus Vince McMahon's son-in-law HHH.
Both matches had been given really good, long build-ups. Both ended in the defeat of hated bad guys who'd evaded their just desserts for some time.
And both were disappointing wrestling matches, though the finishes made fans happy. None of these guys seemed to know how to tell a story in the ring. And what was with no outside interference? That could have spiced things up.
Batista looked seriously winded when it was over. He stayed down on his knees for a long time. The man needs more cardio.
Posted by LYT at 3:42 PM | Comments (4)
Pitch Me
With the new Blogads, I have to come up with ways to pitch this site to advertisers, and deliver testimonials. I have a few, culled from myspace, alexa/amazon reviews, and various press clippings, but one must always wonder what the impressions of other people are.
How would you pitch this site to others? Maybe you already have recommended it; if so, what sort of thing did you say?
Posted by LYT at 3:35 PM | Comments (2)
Your mission tonight
As the newest blogad says, go see Poperratic tonight at the Derby. This will be a very special show.
Some of you may know that Poperratic is the newest project from my longtime friend Jaye Barnes Luckett, most famous as the soundtrack composer for the movie MAY and writer of the choral numbers for THE WOODS.
Jaye's public performances have been few and far between, but she now has a new band, and this will be their debut. It's the first time in many years that she'll have put on a show as anything other than a solo artist, and you can probably expect mucho new stuff.
I'm told there'll be two-buck shots and beers all night long too.
Posted by LYT at 12:37 AM | Comments (0)
April 5, 2005
Still glitching a bit
For some reason, when I logged in today to remove some comments spam, I saw a couple of comments from regulars "awaiting approval." So some comments on earlier posts have finally showed up.
I have set the site so that you don't need my approval to comment -- so I'm not sure why that happened, especially since the spammers obviously didn't face the same obstacle.
Rest assured, I am not going to make this any kind of closed forum. Even with the occasional advertiser or nutjob, I find that making people log in tends to filter commenters down to a fanatical core, as on Roger Simon's site, where that development has not been for the better.
Anyway: Donna, Hariet, and ED209 will now see a post apiece appear that they made on prior entries.
Posted by LYT at 11:15 AM | Comments (2)
April 4, 2005
WrestleMania Goes Hollywood
The WWE is of course counting on the fact that no-one outside of California realizes that downtown L.A. is not the same thing as "Hollywood."
I drove down Olympic to get to Staples Center a few hours early, having learned from experience that it takes so long to get inside that one usually misses the beginning of the show if one dares to arrive reasonably "on time."
Parked on the street because it was Sunday and you can do that. Crowds were already gathering, with long lines already at the front entrance. This was about 1:30 p.m., for a show scheduled to start at 3:45. Ran into MAD COWGIRL producer Edwin Santos, frustrated by his lack of a ticket, but happy to be able to finally purchase an official Rowdy Roddy Piper "Hot Rod" T-shirt. Didn't see anyone else I knew.
After leaving Edwin, I went to the back entrance, where the lines were relatively short, and took my place. Next door, at the Convention Center, there seemed to be some kind of Hindu gathering. So on one end of the block, turbaned bearded guys and orange-robed monks. On the other end, bulk shaven-headed dudes in black T-shirts with three-foot-wide shoulders.
Only one Fag-Rainbow-Hair.
Yes, the color is back. You don't like it? I don't care.
VIP luxury box people could enter Staples at any time. The rest of us had to wait till around 2:30. It's slow going because they have only two major entrances and airport-style security. Because Staples has more luxury boxes than almost any arena anywhere (three levels of them), the rich insist on the extra protection. Pussies.
My seat had been called "limited visibility" online, but other than a giant camera jib occasionally swooping between me and the ring, it was pretty close to perfect: On the aisle, and led directly out to a bathroom and a bar, making piss-breaks and beer runs (the two go hand-in-hand, don'cha know) very quick affairs.
While waiting in line to buy merchandise, a guy with metallic silver hair formed into spikes compliments my hair. I'd forgotten what it's like to have complete strangers say "Nice hair!" to me every day. I like it.
I buy a WrestleMania logo jersey, a new Stone Cold T-shirt with "Unleash Hell" written on the front in AC/DC font, and a Batista shirt with "The Animal" written on the front. The rest I can get online with free shipping.
The star with the most merch for sale is John Cena. The hottest selling item is a retro-style "Hulkamania" shirt. No merch available for the hugely popular "Latino Heat" Eddie Guerrero (though he has a new shirt avialable online that parodies "Grand Theft Auto").
The first match, not shown on pay-per-view, is a 30-man battle royal, using everyone who doesn't have a spot on the main show. Annoyingly for the live viewer, the participants all dress pretty much alike, with RAW roster guys in red t-shirts and SMACKDOWN roster guys in blue ones. Only freakishly gimmicked wrestlers like Viscera and The Hurricane stand out.
Heidenreich gets some funny bits early on by donning a Hurricane mask and trying to strike superhero poses. Then he bites open a turnbuckle pad a la George The Animal Steele. Heidenreich's a funny guy -- too bad his wrestling sucks. Hurricane is the first guy eliminated. The Masterpiece eliminates a ton of guys -- clearly he's being pushed as an indestructible monster. He ends up one of the final three, with Viscera and Booker T. Booker takes it, much to the crowd's delight.
The first official match features a battle of popular Latinos -- Eddie Guerrero and Rey Mysterio. Though both are well-loved, especially in L.A., Eddie is the clear crowd favorite. But he loses nonetheless.
(fingers sore now. More later)
Posted by LYT at 4:28 PM | Comments (0)
Just wondering
Isn't it ironic that so many of those who espouse a social Darwinist worldview have such disdain for the actual theories of Darwin?
Posted by LYT at 2:12 AM | Comments (3)
April 2, 2005
Sodomy is Exhausting
Hi. Still here? Good. There will be some growing pains -- even once everything looks good to us, it turns out not to look good to somebody else on some other system. But Tech Guy is on it, and I must say he's put in a heroic amount of work in the past week, with no reward other than me pestering him. If you're ever in a position to hire a guy to do this stuff, please consider throwing some cash his way.
Be sure to check out the new "Film" section, which features short features by, and/or starring, me. Sorry, Quicktime eats up too much memory, so just Windows Media format for now.
But you want to hear about sodomy, don'cha? Read on...
My character count in MAD COWGIRL has gone way up, not counting voice-overs that may yet be added. Let's run it down, in order of shooting sked...
1. WALLY, a badly toupeed right-wing talk show host
2. BEAT GUY, a bald would-be poet/rapper in a shitty band
3. CONGREGANT in Pastor Dylan's (Walter Koenig's) church
4. LENNY, an obsessive-compulsive suitor of Therese (Sarah Lassez) who may or may not be a hallucination representing someone else
5. MOVIE THEATER USHER, face unseen, with a Chinese accent.
6. CATHOLIC CHURCHGOER, with orange hair
7. GAY BARTENDER at a rock club, with garish female make-up and blond hair...
...and then there's number 8, THE GIMP. Yes, think PULP FICTION. Leather mask, underwear, and nothing else. I had my first movie sex scene today, and like my real first time, there was no kiss involved.
Yep, today I was fake-sodomized by a fake-nun. Tomorrow I may not be able to walk.
The setting is an underground club where corrupt religious folk indulge their perversions. Initially, I'm just sitting on a couch trembling.
Next shot, I'm on my knees, with a nun (April McKay) grinding up against me, having to shriek and flail my arms wildly. This take lasts for what feels like at least 20 minutes. I try to brave it through till I hear cut, but I also fear Greg will not ever call cut as long as I'm amusing him. So finally, I'm exhausted and my knees and feet hurt and I apologize but say that I have to rest. No-one begrudges me that.
Next scene, I'm face down, having to rear up periodically and flail my arms even more. The nun is on my butt. Between takes, she pours cool water on my back, which is now drenched with sweat.
Finally, I get to sit in a throne and chill, with the nun on my lap. She starts caressing me, rubbing my head, playing the lover...it's getting arousing. But I can't let myself get aroused, if for no other reason than that sitting on my lap will get uncomfortable for her in more ways than one if I do.
Some men would think of baseball at times like this. I choose to think of Bill Margold.
I stay pliable. The scene ends and Greg takes some stills. I'll post some if/when I get copies.
Next time, tales of prank phone calls on foul-smelling English thespians.
Posted by LYT at 8:20 PM | Comments (4)
April 1, 2005
Question for all
Is the issue with the left column bleeding into the center bit resolved for you now?
I narrowed the blogad strip, and that fixed things on my browser. (Though future blogads may pose a problem.)
Posted by LYT at 11:36 PM | Comments (13)
Just to see...
Are we back in teh hizzy fo' shizzy?
Posted by LYT at 11:24 PM | Comments (0)