Tagged and Despondent: The Conclusion (and Answer Key)

I didn't expect much, and I didn't get much. I figured there would be four or five correct guesses at most, and that is what happened.

For those interested, here are the answers to my post Tagged and Despondent Part II that I put up ten days ago, which gave the opening lines to thirty random tunes on my iPod. Nearly anyone who cared to check out the list easily guessed Fortunate Son, of course... that was pretty much one of only three or four gimmes on the list. I think part of the success in guessing these lists, if you actually know the person or persons compiling them, is how well you can guess what sort of music they would have on their iPod. How much music or the size of the iPod, and how diverse a list that might incorporate, also plays a part. My pal Erin just put her list up the other day, and already much of her list has been correctly completed by our group, and owing to her (and the group's) background in theatre, it is no surprise that there are a handful of showtunes on there. My buddy Squeak was bound to have Blues Traveller somewhere on his list, at least a couple of times, and Mattman was certain to have Warren Zevon (as did I).

I suggested on Facebook that these lists be taken down in size so that they can be done quicker and made far more manageable. I find it amazing that people use places like Facebook and MySpace to make their contacts with friends and family more immediate, but then decide to bog down large blocks of time with "25 things" lists, when 5 or 10 in a dose would make things far more effective for both constructor of the list and the reader/respondent. I announced my intention to only do, at most, a list of 10 next time.

But now that I am putting the answers up, I feel I shall not take part in this again. The rewards are too few; the guesses too sparse. As it is with comments on this blog in general, but I really do need to concentrate on my true purpose for this blog, which is actually writing and reviewing, not taking part in fruitless sideshows.

Here are the lyrics and their answers. Thanks to those few who did take part, and my gratitude for at least trying to guess.

THE ANSWERS:
1. Talk of the town, and you're always so around // Holding me down to that sultry, sexy sound...
Veronica Fever - The Raveonettes
2. Well, they closed down the auto plant in Mahwah late that month // Ralph went out lookin' for a job but he couldn't find none...
Johnny 99 - Bruce Springsteen
3. Brother finds trouble on the street // A piece of rock to make men weak // Trembling eyes at everyone he meets
Sister holds her baby in the bed // Dreams and wishes dancin' in her head // A love forever is what he said...
The Neighborhood - Los Lobos
4. That there // That's not me // I go // Where I please // I walk through walls...
How To Disappear Completely - Radiohead
5. Yeah, said it's all right // I won't forget // All the times I've waited patiently for you // And you'll do just what you choose to do...
Alone Again Or - Love
6. There's a man in the funny papers we all know...
Alley-Oop - The Hollywood Argyles
7. I slipped away // I slipped on a little white lie // We've got heads on sticks // You've got ventriloquists...
Kid A - Radiohead
8. Well there's a sick sick feeling in the pit of my brain // And drinking bourbon and orange will not heal the pain
And there's a one-armed man beating on his wife // It's the end of the road // The end of this life...
Vulture - The Minus Five
9. OK, check this out // It ain't impossible, it ain't easy // Opportunity shifting here // So far, the strategy ain't working // The facts are in, it's so very clear...
Let Me Go - Rancid
10. When this old world has let you down // And friends no longer want you around // When you feel burdened down with care // And troubles seem so hard to bear...
Call My Name - Them
11. I live up here on this hill // She lives down there in the greenbelt // Her parents don't like me 'cause I come from the hill // Their little girl's future is in doubt...
Semaphore Signals - Wreckless Eric
12. Me and Jan and Brian bought a pretty little hole // It was cheapish and we split and we're fixing it up
So Mr. Sokol does everything, rewires, fixes cracks // I can only break walls, moves stuff, and get snacks...
I'm Downright Amazed What I Can Destroy With Just A Hammer - Atom and His Package
13. Nothing to mourn // We die and die until // Until we're born // Recast as forms // So pleasing to the soul
I never miss anyone // To me, they're never gone // If that makes you uncomfortable, baby // Don't be too long...
You Become the Dawn - Ken Stringfellow
14. When you got the blues // Who do you tell them to? // When you’re all alone // What do you want to do? // Do you want to die // Or is it...?
The Strangeness In Me - The Cramps
15. Time runs backwards at the end // You turn into a child again...
Then You're Dust - Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians
16. Well, I fell outta bed this mornin' // Saw what the guy on TV said // The big rock awards crowned a brand new king // It shoulda been me instead // Don't they know I'm...?
Elvis Fucking Christ - The Cramps
17. There's no point in asking // You'll get no reply // Oh just remember, I don't decide // I got no reason, it's all too much // You'll always find us // Out to lunch!
Pretty Vacant - The Sex Pistols
18. Over the moor, take me to the moor // Dig a shallow grave // And I'll lay me down (repeated once more)
Lesley-Anne and your pretty white beads // Oh John, you'll never be a man // And you'll never see your home again // Oh Manchester, so much to answer for...
Suffer Little Children - The Smiths
19. She tells him she thinks she needs to be free // He tells her he doesn't understand // She takes his hand //She tells him nothing's working out the way they planned...
Hasten Down the Wind - Warren Zevon
20. Gonna make my move // Gonna make it stay // Gonna make it last // Never mind the past //Living for today...
Glorious Days - Weezer
21. Some folks are born made to wave the flag // Ooh, they're red, white and blue // And when the band plays "Hail to the Chief" // Ooh, they point the cannon at you, lord...
Fortunate Son - Creedence Clearwater Revival
22. I dedicate this song to the workin' man // For ever' man that puts in a hard eight or ten hours a day of work and toil and sweat // Always got somebody lookin' down his neck // Tryin' to get more out of 'im // Than he really ought to have to put in...
Oney - Johnny Cash
23. I can hear the ocean and it's calling you to come // It goes, "Hey, Joe // Come on in the water's warm, we've been here waiting for ya // Oh, hey, Joe // Come on back and see us more // And everyone adores ya"
Swim - The Glands
24. Everything that keeps me together is falling apart // I've got this thing that I consider my only art of fucking people over // My boss just quit the job says he's goin' out to find blind spots and he'll do it...
3rd Planet - Modest Mouse
25. Literally the first minute I get back to town the cops // They shot a crazy lady with a screwdriver in her hand // Maybe we'll have another riot, hey wouldn't that be fun, well // This time I'll get a VCR and a big screen and a gun...
Tape - Dan Bern
26. Detective is flat // no longer is always flat out // Got the number of getaway car // Didn't get very far // As lucid as hell and these images // Movin' so fast like a fever // So close to the bone // I don't feel too well...
Pineapple Head - Crowded House
27. This happened once before // When I came to your door...
No Reply - The Beatles
28. A telepathic line to a shadow on the wall // Just a passenger and that is all // Taking off on a midnight flight // The airline ticket in his hand held tight // Polar route, destination: oblivion...
The Passenger - Wall of Voodoo
29. Music has charms, they say // But in some people's hands // It becomes a savage beast // Can't they control it // Why don't they hold it back?
You see my friend and me // Don't have an easy day // And at night, we dance not fight // And we need the energy // If not the sympathy...
A Slow Song - Joe Jackson
30. Up those stone steps I climb // Hail this joyful day's return // Into its great shadowed vault I go // Hail the Pentecostal morn
The reading is from Luke 24 // Where Christ returns to his loved ones // I look at the stone apostles // Think that it's alright for some...
Brompton Oratory - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

Halfway to the Oscars, nomination-wise (and only through a slighly rigged system of counting...)

Been listening to a lot of my friends, old and new, discuss the Oscar nominations for 2009 and mention how few of the films they have seen, sometimes in an almost conspiratorial way regarding Hollywood (even if most of the nominated films would not be recognizable as "Hollywood" product in any year, past or present) and the Oscars' need to not allow popular fare into the major categories. Assuredly, I am as pissed (and shocked) as anyone over The Dark Knight getting largely cast aside, despite its not just financial but also huge critical success.

But what can you do? The Academy is the Academy is the Academy. It's hard to tell why they choose anything. Jen and I raced to Gran Torino two weekends ago, believing that it was bound for at least a half dozen noms, and it was shut out. They shot down Clint. Possibly because he and Morgan Freeman have their Mandela opus arriving next year, and the Academy didn't want to repeat themselves. Or maybe it just lost fair and square. Whatever... all I know is this:

55-and-a-half out of 111 nominations.

That's how many of the nominations I have seen. Exactly half.

How did I get to that number? Well, the half point comes from seeing an advance screening of Kung Fu Panda early last year, but not having seen the final product. So, Jen and I granted ourselves a half-point for seeing roughly half of the film. We have crammed several films into the last few weeks, mostly of what would be termed Oscar fodder: Slumdog, Button, Frost/Nixon... it has allowed us to get a jump start over most people.

After I post this, we will be heading directly to a showing of Doubt in Irvine, and that will add another five noms to our "seen" list. Jen, though, actually has three less points than I, since she did not get to see Bolt with me in Seattle, has not watched our DVD of the Herzog documentary yet, and did not go online like I did to watch Oktapodi, one of the nominated cartoons. And we will be hitting The Wrestler, Milk and The Reader over the next week or so, so we should have at least 2/3 knocked down well before the ceremony.

Biggest surprise of the list? A tie between not having seen any of the Best Actress noms at all and only one Supporting Actress role, and that we have seen all ten nominations for Sound and Sound Editing. Oops! How did we do that?

Not surprising? That we have seen all the Makeup and Visual Effect noms. What else would you expect? We like the superheroes. (Not so much the Button, but what are you gonna do?)

So, here's the nomination list, with the movies I have seen in brilliant red (the ones that I see after this post is up will appear in green eventually):

Best Motion Picture of the Year
Nominees:
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008): Ceán Chaffin, Kathleen Kennedy, Frank Marshall
Frost/Nixon (2008): Brian Grazer, Ron Howard, Eric Fellner
Milk (2008): Bruce Cohen, Dan Jinks
The Reader (2008): Nominees to be determined
Slumdog Millionaire (2008): Christian Colson

Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role
Nominees:
Richard Jenkins for The Visitor (2007/I)
Frank Langella for Frost/Nixon (2008)
Sean Penn for Milk (2008)
Brad Pitt for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)
Mickey Rourke for The Wrestler (2008)

Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role
Nominees:
Anne Hathaway for Rachel Getting Married (2008)
Angelina Jolie for Changeling (2008)
Melissa Leo for Frozen River (2008)
Meryl Streep for Doubt (2008/I)
Kate Winslet for The Reader (2008)

Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role
Nominees:
Josh Brolin for Milk (2008)
Robert Downey Jr. for Tropic Thunder (2008)
Philip Seymour Hoffman for Doubt (2008/I)
Heath Ledger for The Dark Knight (2008)
Michael Shannon for Revolutionary Road (2008)

Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role
Nominees:
Amy Adams for Doubt (2008/I)
Penélope Cruz for Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)
Viola Davis for Doubt (2008/I)
Taraji P. Henson for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)
Marisa Tomei for The Wrestler (2008)

Best Achievement in Directing
Nominees:
Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire (2008)
Stephen Daldry for The Reader (2008)
David Fincher for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)
Ron Howard for Frost/Nixon (2008)
Gus Van Sant for Milk (2008)

Best Writing, Screenplay Written Directly for the Screen
Nominees:
Frozen River (2008): Courtney Hunt
Happy-Go-Lucky (2008): Mike Leigh
In Bruges (2008): Martin McDonagh
Milk (2008): Dustin Lance Black
WALL·E (2008): Andrew Stanton, Pete Docter, Jim Reardon

Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material Previously Produced or Published
Nominees:
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008): Eric Roth, Robin Swicord
Doubt (2008/I): John Patrick Shanley
Frost/Nixon (2008): Peter Morgan
The Reader (2008): David Hare
Slumdog Millionaire (2008): Simon Beaufoy

Best Achievement in Cinematography
Nominees:
Changeling (2008): Tom Stern
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008): Claudio Miranda
The Dark Knight (2008): Wally Pfister
The Reader (2008): Roger Deakins, Chris Menges
Slumdog Millionaire (2008): Anthony Dod Mantle

Best Achievement in Editing
Nominees:
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008): Angus Wall, Kirk Baxter
The Dark Knight (2008): Lee Smith
Frost/Nixon (2008): Daniel P. Hanley, Mike Hill
Milk (2008): Elliot Graham
Slumdog Millionaire (2008): Chris Dickens

Best Achievement in Art Direction
Nominees:
Changeling (2008): James J. Murakami, Gary Fettis
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008): Donald Graham Burt, Victor J. Zolfo
The Dark Knight (2008): Nathan Crowley, Peter Lando
The Duchess (2008): Michael Carlin, Rebecca Alleway
Revolutionary Road (2008): Kristi Zea, Debra Schutt

Best Achievement in Costume Design
Nominees:
Australia (2008): Catherine Martin
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008): Jacqueline West
The Duchess (2008): Michael O'Connor
Milk (2008): Danny Glicker
Revolutionary Road (2008): Albert Wolsky

Best Achievement in Makeup
Nominees:
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008): Greg Cannom
The Dark Knight (2008): John Caglione Jr., Conor O'Sullivan
Hellboy II: The Golden Army (2008): Mike Elizalde, Thomas Floutz

Best Achievement in Music Written for Motion Pictures, Original Score
Nominees:
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008): Alexandre Desplat
Defiance (2008): James Newton Howard
Milk (2008): Danny Elfman
Slumdog Millionaire (2008): A.R. Rahman
WALL·E (2008): Thomas Newman

Best Achievement in Music Written for Motion Pictures, Original Song
Nominees:
Slumdog Millionaire (2008): A.R. Rahman, Gulzar("Jai Ho")
Slumdog Millionaire (2008): A.R. Rahman, Maya Arulpragasam("O Saya")
WALL·E (2008): Peter Gabriel, Thomas Newman("Down to Earth")

Best Achievement in Sound
Nominees:
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008): David Parker, Michael Semanick, Ren Klyce, Mark Weingarten
The Dark Knight (2008): Ed Novick, Lora Hirschberg, Gary Rizzo
Slumdog Millionaire (2008): Ian Tapp, Richard Pryke, Resul Pookutty
WALL·E (2008): Tom Myers, Michael Semanick, Ben Burtt
Wanted (2008): Chris Jenkins, Frank A. Montaño, Petr Forejt

Best Achievement in Sound Editing
Nominees:
The Dark Knight (2008): Richard King
Iron Man (2008): Frank E. Eulner, Christopher Boyes
Slumdog Millionaire (2008): Tom Sayers
WALL·E (2008): Ben Burtt, Matthew Wood
Wanted (2008): Wylie Stateman

Best Achievement in Visual Effects
Nominees:
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008): Eric Barba, Steve Preeg, Burt Dalton, Craig Barron
The Dark Knight (2008): Nick Davis, Chris Corbould, Timothy Webber, Paul J. Franklin
Iron Man (2008): John Nelson, Ben Snow, Daniel Sudick, Shane Mahan

Best Animated Feature Film of the Year
Nominees:
Bolt (2008): Chris Williams, Byron Howard
Kung Fu Panda (2008): John Stevenson, Mark Osborne
WALL·E (2008): Andrew Stanton

Best Foreign Language Film of the Year
Nominees:
Der Baader Meinhof Komplex (2008)(Germany)
Entre les murs (2008)(France)
Revanche (2008)(Austria)
Okuribito (2008)(Japan)
Vals Im Bashir (2008)(Israel)

Best Documentary, Features
Nominees:
The Betrayal - Nerakhoon (2008): Ellen Kuras, Thavisouk Phrasavath
Encounters at the End of the World (2007): Werner Herzog, Henry Kaiser
The Garden (2008/I): Scott Hamilton Kennedy
Man on Wire (2008): James Marsh, Simon Chinn
Trouble the Water (2008): Tia Lessin, Carl Deal

Best Documentary, Short Subjects
Nominees:
Conscience of Nhem En, The (2008): Steven Okazaki
Final Inch, The (2008): Irene Taylor Brodsky, Tom Grant
Smile Pinki (2008): Megan Mylan
Witness from the Balcony of Room 306, The (2008): Adam Pertofsky, Margaret Hyde

Best Short Film, Animated
Nominees:
La Maison en Petits Cubes: Kunio Kato
Ubornaya istoriya - lyubovnaya istoriya (2007): Konstantin Bronzit
Oktapodi (2007): Emud Mokhberi, Thierry Marchand
Presto (2008): Doug Sweetland
This Way Up (2008): Alan Smith, Adam Foulkes

Best Short Film, Live Action
Nominees:
Auf der Strecke (2007): Reto Caffi
Manon sur le bitume (2007): Elizabeth Marre, Olivier Pont
New Boy (2007): Steph Green, Tamara Anghie
Grisen (2008): Tivi Magnusson, Dorthe Warnø Høgh
Spielzeugland (2007): Jochen Alexander Freydank

Rik-O-Sound: Tagged and Despondent, Pt. II

I requested in the first part of this piece that you, my friends and acquaintances on Facebook, do not tag me for anything.

I said this because I was weary of the zillion and two notifications that greeted me every time I logged into the site, and I have noticed that I have begun to react to the act of logging in and finding this mass of requests the same way I do when I sense that the religious compatriots of certain of my friends are stalking about in my neighborhood on a Saturday morning. Don't answer the door -- pretend you are not home. Sometimes it's better to not log in at all than have to deal with the discomfort of blankly ignoring every single request from dozens of my friends. I feel like I am betraying all of them with every single click.

But then I remember that, in most cases, I am only on a list, and their action of clicking my name is no more personal than my action of removing their request is cold and uncaring. I am only balancing my well-being, after all. It is a defensive stance, but one I must take, somewhat similar to putting aunts and uncles who are prone to blankly sending relentless chain emails from their cronies and so on down the line.

Yes, every once in a while it worth a chuckle to see a picture of a church which is throwing the weight of the (lowercase) almighty behind the Green Bay Packers. But I don't need it a dozen times or more. They didn't really send it to me anyway... I am only on a list, and if they feel this is real communication, then so be it. I hope it works for them. But through actions like this (junk email, junk tags which create junk email in return), it is less likely that I will respond to them in any way whatsoever. And they will certainly never know me any better. Nor I, them... beyond the fact that they send junk email.

Every once in a while, though, someone sends pictures of big-eyed kittens and puppies. Sometimes those big-eyed kittens and puppies are curled up together on the same blanket. Inter-special napping... damn them. Maybe they do know me enough to know that I cannot resist pictures of inter-special napping...

So, what does all of this grousing have to do with music, you ask? Well, the other day, after being tagged for numerous things over and over to the point where I was about to plot a CIA-lead preemptive incursion against certain parts of the Pacific Northwest (don't ask me how this was to be done... I know people...), I instead chose the calmer path of telling people to knock it off directly on Facebook. I don't remember my exact words, but they were something to the effect of "Flargin' bargin' tag tag tag brassin' rassin' get off my lawn...!" Very simple, to the point... not a trace of embattled antiquity in the statement. I knew that it would probably lead to a rash of notifications on my Facebook page -- those that are my true friends would do this in a second -- and assuredly, nothing stopped. And most people had no idea to what I was actually referring, and so it either got ignored, or the "tag" notice was responded to in other ways, none of them based around my actual feelings. I, too, knew this would happen. I just wanted to say "knock it off!" mainly to get it off my chest.

And then someone sent me pictures of big-eyed kittens and puppies napping together cutely on a blanket.

Actually, Mattman tagged me in what I normally consider a chain tag, and which is something I would normally ignore right away. But he knows me better than that. He tagged me because he knows I love music, and because he knows I have an iPod filled to bursting with over 16,200 songs, and that I have enough music to fill twice that amount at my beck and call. The tag was about starting up your iPod and writing down the first couple of lyric lines from the first thirty songs that randomly play on your machine.

Of course, I couldn't resist. But I will not tag anyone else to play this game. I will stand by my current status and not be that guy. Hell, I haven't even decided if I will post this on Facebook.

Here are the rules as Mattman sent them:

Step 1: Put your music player on shuffle.
Step 2: Post the first line (unless the first line reveals the song title) from the first 30 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing.
Step 3: Strike through the songs when someone guesses both artist and track correctly.
Step 4: Looking them up on Google or any other search engine is CHEATING!
Step 5: If you like the game post your own!
Step 6: Make a new one... only after all 30 have been guessed

Man if there is one thing I cannot resist, it's an iPod game. Even if this is my first opportunity to play one. So, below you will find my own attempt such a list. Because I am a statistics freak, here is the true depth to which I had to sink to make this list: it took 52 songs to gather this list of 30. 14 instrumentals, mostly of the jazz, surf or Zappa/Beefheart variety, popped up in the making of this list, as did 8 songs where the first line revealed the title outright. If you get mad at me for not having more popular songs on here, I will not apologize. I do not listen to music on the radio, AM or FM, so there is little in the way of current pop successes on here. There will also likely be a handful of bands which will make the vast majority of my friends go "Who the hell?," but that's fine. My friends have their paths, and I have mine.

The one thing that stood out in making this list is that their isn't a whole lot of -- hmm, how to say it? -- buoyancy in the lyrics. Not a lot of joy here, except sporadically. A couple of spots, but mostly depressing in an overall sense. Gee, they must have been deleting thousands of notifications on their Facebook page, too...

RIK TOD'S THIRTY SONGS #1

1. Talk of the town, and you're always so around // Holding me down to that sultry, sexy sound...

2. Well, they closed down the auto plant in Mahwah late that month // Ralph went out lookin' for a job but he couldn't find none...

3. Brother finds trouble on the street // A piece of rock to make men weak // Trembling eyes at everyone he meets
Sister holds her baby in the bed // Dreams and wishes dancin' in her head // A love forever is what he said...

4. That there // That's not me // I go // Where I please // I walk through walls...

5. Yeah, said it's all right // I won't forget // All the times I've waited patiently for you // And you'll do just what you choose to do...

6. There's a man in the funny papers we all know...

7. I slipped away // I slipped on a little white lie // We've got heads on sticks // You've got ventriloquists...

8. Well there's a sick sick feeling in the pit of my brain // And drinking bourbon and orange will not heal the pain
And there's a one-armed man beating on his wife // It's the end of the road // The end of this life...

9. OK, check this out // It ain't impossible, it ain't easy // Opportunity shifting here // So far, the strategy ain't working // The facts are in, it's so very clear...

10. When this old world has let you down // And friends no longer want you around // When you feel burdened down with care // And troubles seem so hard to bear...

11. I live up here on this hill // She lives down there in the greenbelt // Her parents don't like me 'cause I come from the hill // Their little girl's future is in doubt...

12. Me and Jan and Brian bought a pretty little hole // It was cheapish and we split and we're fixing it up
So Mr. Sokol does everything, rewires, fixes cracks // I can only break walls, moves stuff, and get snacks...

13. Nothing to mourn // We die and die until // Until we're born // Recast as forms // So pleasing to the soul
I never miss anyone // To me, they're never gone // If that makes you uncomfortable, baby // Don't be too long...

14. When you got the blues // Who do you tell them to? // When you’re all alone // What do you want to do? // Do you want to die // Or is it...?

15. Time runs backwards at the end // You turn into a child again...

16. Well, I fell outta bed this mornin' // Saw what the guy on TV said // The big rock awards crowned a brand new king // It shoulda been me instead // Don't they know I'm...?

17. There's no point in asking // You'll get no reply // Oh just remember, I don't decide // I got no reason, it's all too much // You'll always find us // Out to lunch!

18. Over the moor, take me to the moor // Dig a shallow grave // And I'll lay me down
Lesley-Anne and your pretty white beads // Oh John, you'll never be a man // And you'll never see your home again // Oh Manchester, so much to answer for...

19. She tells him she thinks she needs to be free // He tells her he doesn't understand // She takes his hand //She tells him nothing's working out the way they planned...

20. Gonna make my move // Gonna make it stay // Gonna make it last // Never mind the past //Living for today...

21. Some folks are born made to wave the flag // Ooh, they're red, white and blue // And when the band plays "Hail to the Chief" // Ooh, they point the cannon at you, lord...

22. I dedicate this song to the workin' man // For ever' man that puts in a hard eight or ten hours a day of work and toil and sweat // Always got somebody lookin' down his neck // Tryin' to get more out of 'im // Than he really ought to have to put in...

23. I can hear the ocean and it's calling you to come // It goes, "Hey, Joe // Come on in the water's warm, we've been here waiting for ya // Oh, hey, Joe // Come on back and see us more // And everyone adores ya"

24. Everything that keeps me together is falling apart // I've got this thing that I consider my only art of fucking people over // My boss just quit the job says he's goin' out to find blind spots and he'll do it...

25. Literally the first minute I get back to town the cops // They shot a crazy lady with a screwdriver in her hand // Maybe we'll have another riot, hey wouldn't that be fun, well // This time I'll get a VCR and a big screen and a gun...

26. Detective is flat // no longer is always flat out // Got the number of getaway car // Didn't get very far // As lucid as hell and these images // Movin' so fast like a fever // So close to the bone // I don't feel too well...

27. This happened once before // When I came to your door...

28. A telepathic line to a shadow on the wall // Just a passenger and that is all // Taking off on a midnight flight // The airline ticket in his hand held tight // Polar route, destination: oblivion...

29. Music has charms, they say // But in some people's hands // It becomes a savage beast // Can't they control it // Why don't they hold it back?
You see my friend and me // Don't have an easy day // And at night, we dance not fight // And we need the energy // If not the sympathy...

30. Up those stone steps I climb // Hail this joyful day's return // Into its great shadowed vault I go // Hail the Pentecostal morn
The reading is from Luke 24 // Where Christ returns to his loved ones // I look at the stone apostles // Think that it's alright for some...

Rik-O-Sound: Tagged and Despondent, Pt. I

There were two reasons why I got onto Facebook:

1) I was frustrated with my friends and their lack of email communication. Likewise, I was frustrated with my lack of email communication in return. Knowing that some of them had hooked up on Facebook led me to believe that this would be a mutually beneficial attempt at bridge-building.
2) I fucking hate MySpace.

I have railed about MySpace in the past, and will probably do so again the future (if I get to a point where I am actually involved with MySpace again -- I still have a page, which I have stopped just short of deleting several times, but only because I have a pair of friends on there that I do not have an alternate means of reaching. But I will never do any work on that page again. It's dead to me.)

As for email communication, you get what you put into it. As it turns out, my frustration is actually the same frustration I held when I lived back home over the telephone, and my lack of incoming calls from friends was actually pretty evenly matched by my own lack of outgoing calls to people whom I should have attempted to reach in certain situations. It's all fine and well to ask "Why didn't you call me about that movie?," but then don't be surprised when multiple somebodies ask you the same question after you skipped out to the latest Eastwood with just two of your pals instead of seventeen of them.

I got on to Facebook to communicate. And then I immediately fell into the trap that everyone does on Facebook: the deluge of seemingly innocuous games and applications, all of which are mindlessly delightful for the first couple of days you have them, and none of which seems to be the actual pains in the ass that they are in retrospect. Go ahead, sign up to a new app and then tag forty-seven of your kindred telling them all about the joys that this innocent-looking new app can bring to their lives. I played around for a couple months, but then realized that all of it was worthless, the book and movie applications were not really all that useful outside of Facebook (which is something I greatly require), and that I, for some strange reason that a guy obsessed with writing cannot fathom (and neither should you), despise Scrabble and don't wish to play even a legal version of the game on the site, let alone a far superior (so my friends and thousands of others tell me), now extinct, knock-off version.

Sure, it seems to cool to want to throw a crap-filled snowball at someone, or buy them a drink, or send them a poodle toy, or just poke them in the ribs (or other filthier areas). Yes, I too wish to be a pirate, a mob boss, a zombie, a mad scientist... doesn't everyone. As Groucho said, "I'm a dreamer. Montreal?" Leaving out the fact that I too invited numerous people to these applications when I first got on the sight, once you have been on there for a while and you see all of the new people joining, if you have given up using any of these applications, they are going to bite you in the posterior on the flipside. Having removed myself from most of these apps long before, one day about a year ago, I dialed into the site and found that I have 127 notifications, most of them from a group of about twelve people of my "acquaintance" who had signed my up as their friend, and were now intent on torturing me invitations to be all of those swell professions I mentioned (and more) at the start of this paragraph. Not to mention the people that were throwing all manner of flotsam and jetsam my way, and the people who wanted me to join their group protesting the waterboarding torture of homeless, transgendered, autistic, abused whale fetuses.

Fine causes all, and you might even see me in a parade for any or all of them, depending on my mood at the time... or my state of undress. But, as it does for every person on the planet, it all boils down to one word, a word that describes the state in which every one of us believes ourselves to be at all times, even if that state is something totally self-created: BUSY. Just too damn busy to bother with the process of climbing up the buccaneer ladder of success, preferring instead to climb a ladder more reality-based. The preponderance of goofy Facebook applications is fine if you want to peck away at your keyboard on a lazy Saturday morning or for an hour after work, mindlessly playing silly games with friends to relieve the tension of the day. Fine for some, but not for me. In normal circumstances, I thrive on being busy, but my form of busy is spread out over numerous other forms of computer software -- online and home collection-cataloguing programs, learning HTML on Dreamweaver, and massive amounts of blogging -- and then the writing and drawing I do off the computer, all of which ties into watching movies and reading books through which I derive the means of doing the massive amounts of blogging when I return to the computer.

What it does is leave little time for me on Facebook, as much as I actually, despite the protestations above and to come, adore the program. It's a far more supple and user-friendly program than Facebook, and if the look is a little too uniform for my tastes, at least it doesn't have the gnarly look of most MySpace pages. Professionally designed or amateur, every page on that site looks a mess, and I will go to almost any other place to look up information on someone or an organization rather than visit their MySpace page. Sure, it works for Dane Cook. But he's an overrated, unfunny asshole (with zero acting talent, I must add vociferously) who just happened to be the first to learn how to make the internet work for him, and better than anyone else has. Kudos to him for figuring things out, but you won't find me visiting his MySpace page, or anyone else's for that matter. Not even mine, which is why I no longer provide a link to it.

And so, eventually, I stripped nearly everything off of Facebook that wasn't immediately necessary to my basic enjoyment of the site. No games, no awkward movie collection applications, no zombies, snowballs, pirates. I don't even poke back much anymore. Because what all of these distractions proved to me was that they were not true communication. Just because you poke somebody on the site doesn't mean you have anything worthwhile to say to them. Sure, it's nice to know that someone is thinking about you, but the truth of the matter is that they probably just noticed your name on a list, and while they were jabbing three other people, they thought, "Oh, I should hit his name too." Don't need it. Don't bother. If you want to talk to me, write on my wall, send me a personal message, look me up on the chat log on those rare occasions I do log into Facebook, send an actual email to my real account, or go the extra mile to show your affection by sending a box of candy or flowers -- the real variety, not the pixel-encrusted ones on some program on Facebook.

And most of all, do not tag me for anything...

(To be continued...)

Slipped Discs: The X from Outer Space (1968)

Director: Kazui Nihonmatsu
Japanese, 1:19, color
Cinema 4 Rating: 4

Don't blame Guilala if you don't enjoy The X From Outer Space. After all, he's doing the best he can given how preposterously he has been designed. A Godzilla-style body (down to the skin texture) attached to a head that looks like two cymbals crashing, with a chicken beak and goofy glowing eyes added for good measure. To prove he is here, Guilala also sports a trumpet-like device on his forehead that could have dropped off a tower in Whoville. And, yes, the antennae... in what might be a crude attempt to prove that Guilala really did come from outer space, and possibly to differentiate him from all those other kaiju waddling about unhindered about Japan in the 1960s, Guilala comes replete with a pair of unbelievably springy antennae. He is possibly from Mars, after all. Martians have antennae... at least, the ones I drew in school did.

At first glance, you want to laugh at Guilala, but then another feeling rises up: sympathy. Sympathy for the poor guy in the Guilala suit, who seems to be having such a rough time seeing in the outlandish gear, that he has to take two wild swipes at a radio tower with his paw before he roars what has to be a monster version of "Ah, screw this!" and moves on to the next tower, which comes down in a proper rumble as was probably planned for the first one. (Is it amazing they left this bit in the film? I am not so sure...) It must be hard enough to maneuver acrobatically in a hot, sweaty, heavy costume; it has to be even harder to do it practically blind.

But first, in order to laugh at and then cry with Guilala, you have to get to him. In The X From Outer Space, the way you do this is to hop on a nonstop party ride with an international quartet of groovy astronauts, including a female, on their way to Mars, with a slight detour on the moon to down some cocktails. Sure, there's dramatic tension here and there, but it's undermined by a swingin' trip to the Moon Lounge, and the feeling that scientific research is the second or possibly third thing on everybody's mind, especially given the multi-racial love triangle that develops in these scenes. The lounge mood is set from the get-go by the theme music, once you get past the studio logo, that is; the first few notes strike an ominous tone, but then it gets pushed aside as a hip-swingin' space tune kicks in, aided considerably by a telling us how "the universe is our world/the future is our tomorrow/it all belongs to us!" while the credits roll past in a stroll through the constellations. The organ that accompanies this music plays the second largest role next to Guilala in setting the mood of the film, and even in the more dramatic scenes without its intrusion, one can still feel the groove pulsating in one's head. Above all, and whatever the faults of the film, The X from Outer Space is ultimately groovy, baby.

On their flight to Mars, the groove-sters meet up with a flying saucer; apparently their rocket, the AAB-Gamma (also called the "Astro-Boat") has been roofied, because the next thing they know, it's pregnant! And maybe the rocket fuel was used in the martinis, too. OK, actually, some strange object has been left on its tail... Lisa, the blonde hottie scientist -- who always seems to be the only one really concerned with her job, even while locked in alternate stages of girlish giggling and seething jealousy with her Japanese rival for Captain Sato's affections, Michiko -- collects the "egg" and places it in a vacuum container. The problem? Once they return to Earth, the crew steps out for more cocktails, and the thing eats through the container and then the floor. They discover a three-toed indentation, which Sato declares looks "just like a chicken's claw print." With an alien potentially ransacking the countryside, what do the astronauts do? Sato asks if anyone wants to get a nightcap. That's right. a nightcap. The party bus apparently never stops for these guys!

Soon, the alien has eaten vast amounts of energy and grown to the normal size of a kaiju interloper, which, as even the most nominal fan of these types of films can tell you, is freakin' goddamned huge. I am not going to launch into the sordid details involving his klutzily cute stomp-a-thon through the streets of the city, the destruction that ensues, nor of how the scientists stop groovin' just long enough to figure out how to stop Guilala (though it might involve a substance called Guilalalium). I will leave these joys up to you.

But I will ask why this film is not properly on DVD? All but a handful of the Toho kaiju films (Gojira and his lot) have been released, some in their most respectful, excellent forms yet. But no love for Guilala? Where is the Tarantino-like champion of this film? He gets Mighty Peking Man back into the public eye... why not Guilala, perhaps one of the most lovable giant monster films to ever be released, if not the grooviest. An old friend from my high school days recently became reacquainted with me through my Facebook page, where Guilala resides as my profile picture (for those who would correct me without checking, it is Minira on this site, Guilala there). She asked me if I still had a Godzilla complex, and while the answer is most definitely "yes," -- and the Big G is definitely my favorite creature of all time, giant or otherwise -- I didn't have the heart to correct her regarding the pic.

But Guilala has, in the past few weeks, gotten even a bigger profile, via a television commercial. A company called The Ladders (stupid name, yes, I agree) is taking aim at Monster.com's market, and produced an ad with a tiny, rampaging creature which can't get a break in his unfulfilling, monstery job. As you will see in the video below, he discovers what it takes to get ahead in the city-smashing game. And damned if the creature isn't my beloved little Guilala...



Best of all, a sequel-slash-remake of The X from Outer Space was produced in Japan last year, and thankfully, all signs point to it -- called The Monster X Strikes Back/Attack the G8 Summit -- being a largely parodic version of the story. Hopefully, the grooviness of the original will be intact. My own version of a remake would involve Bruce Campbell, Tracy Morgan (as Astronaut Jones) and three dozen Japanese girls in space bikinis, while the 5.6.7.8s play their raucous, '50s-style Woo-Hoo music in zero gravity around a space station/martini bar. My guess is that this version will always exist in my brain, and that there is little hope that the new version is this groovy. But any sign of Guilala's continued cultural existence brings hope that a decent, annotated DVD version is in the works. Go Guilala!

Recently Rated Movies 2009 #1

The Killer That Stalked New York (1950)
Director: Earl McEvoy
Cinema 4 Rating: 6

I tuned into this one partly because it starred Evelyn Keyes, who died midway though 2008, but also because it was the one film in TCM's scheduled night of movie epidemics that I had not seen. While I do not normally indulge in, or really care for, the medical thriller genre, this one seemed like it might pose to be interesting, and I was certainly not disappointed. Killer has a noirish feel from the beginning, without actually following through fully on its dark promise, but it is an extremely engaging chase through the streets of New York, as a doctor, the police and even a T-Man pursue a woman who may be unknowingly carrying smallpox through the city. Keyes is the blonde target, a nightclub singer, who picked up the disease in Cuba while attempting to smuggle a pair of diamonds into the U.S. This one moves pretty quick, darting from location to location, so look quick for a bit part played by Jim Backus, who only recently had begun winning the world over with his voicework as Mr. Magoo (and would eventually bring us another famous multimillionaire, Thurston Howell III, on a certain TV island).

If you think the film is merely more Hollywood fear-mongering over a potential epidemic, keep in mind this story was actually based upon a real event in 1947, where smallpox was carried into New York City by a man so unknowing of his fate, he was dead long before they discovered the virus with which he was stricken. Only two people died in total, but over 6 million were vaccinated in the wake of his death, which was a record at the time (could be now too, but finding out this tidbit is really not important to me right now...) But the movie is really only inspired by the outbreak... there was no chase, no diamonds, no smugglers, no nightclub singers, no shadowy angles incurred and a dramatic conclusion at gunpoint over the streets of New York. That's the movie world, and really, the ultimate reason I tuned in to the movie. I was there for the noir feel and a lot of tough-talking dialogue. If I wanted real world diseases, I'd go hug one of my neighbors.

Hot Rod (2007)
Director: Akiva Schaffer
Cinema 4 Rating: 6

I keep reading reviews of Saturday Night Live where people are praising the hell out of Kristen Wiig (whom I do enjoy) and pretty much leaving the rest of the cast on the trash heap, including Andy Samberg, one third of the team that is really keeping SNL going with the Digital Shorts run, and has the Emmy to prove it. I am going to hold back on my evolving opinion of the problems with the show, most of which have nothing to do with the actual cast, of whom I enjoy the talents of several of its members, but mainly in the movies. Bill Hader, for example, has been everywhere lately, and while I like a couple of his characters on the show, I like him far more on the big screen, such as in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, where he collects at least a half dozen decent laughs, if not huge ones. But I am discovering that Samberg has become my favorite on the show, if only for the Digital Shorts, since he is not used often in the main portion of the show. So, if you are enjoying the shorts, know that his efforts are usually conceived and completed via the efforts of his two partners in crime, Jorma Taccone and Akiva Schaffer, collectively known as The Lonely Island. The question, though, since they are usually relegated to just a handful of minutes on each telecast of their regular job, what can they do in with a full-length feature film?

And thus, we arrive at Hot Rod, which I knew I would end up seeing on my own, since my significant other no longer has any form of tolerance for SNL at all. (I usually watch it early on Sunday morning before she gets up.) For a kid who grew up in a neighborhood where we indeed had our own Evel Knievel fanatic, and for whom we would construct rickety ramps and grab garbage cans for him to jump his crappy bike over, the world of Hot Rod is amazingly familiar to me. Perhaps this adds a little more innocence to the film than it deserves, especially given that most of the people in the film, even the ones we are supposed to like, pretty much behave like cads. But there is a genuinely infectious performance by Samberg, who portrays a sad sack of a neighborhood hero who is a good deal more of a laughing stock than he and his friends are aware. I was struck by how much Samberg's character reminds me of the way that I think Adam Sandler's characters are supposed to appear, if only Sandler weren't more of the sort of thug that I despise. This has always been my problem with Sandler: while many of my friends have pretty much rolled over and spread them for him, I have always identified him as less of an adorable man-child and more of a immature hood with barely repressed violent tendencies who was desperately in need of hospitalization at a very young age and onward into adulthood.

Not so with Samberg's character, who is harmless except to himself, obsessed as he is with self-immolation and scores of broken bones, thanks to his tireless pursuit of fame as the world's greatest stuntman. Thankfully, he has a great supporting cast behind him, with Taccone, Hader, Ian McShane (who seems to be having a ball being engaged in a constant, exceedingly violent father-son struggle with the would-be daredevil), Sissy Spacek, and, unbeknownest to me before watching it, Will Arnett as the sleaziest, smarmiest boyfriend of a would-be love interest ever. (And please don't ask me to get started on the effect that Isla Fisher has on me in even the smallest roles...) Not great, even for stupid-smart comedy (not to be confused, either, with smart-stupid comedies like the Apatow lot), but there are a couple dozen, pretty good absurdist laughs here, if not more. Thank a script knocked out by Pam Brady, who recently did Hamlet 2, which also came very close to being terrific (if not for one very specific problem), and merely ended up slyly satisfying. And Hot Rod has one thing that most comedies these days are definitely lacking: an ultimately innocent (though knowing) charm. For this feeling alone, exceedingly rare these days, I will watch Rod Kimble jump his silly moped again and again...

Auld Lang Cine-ma - Part II

On New Year's Day, 1987, I dragged a handful of friends to a theatre, and the bulk of them sat through at least three of the five films I saw that day.

I can no longer name all five of the films I saw on that turning of the year, though with research I could probably piece together the last one. We definitely saw the musical remake version of Little Shop of Horrors, No Mercy (which truly sucked, mostly due to Kim Basinger not having learned how to act yet and because Richard Gere is a general dickhead), Witchboard (once again, truly sucked), a forgotten fourth film, and somewhere in there, in the last example of my sneaking into a movie unpaid, we took advantage of the low security in the Fireweed Theatre and crept into King Kong Lives, the abhorrent though somehow endearing (I blame Linda Hamilton's breasts) sequel to a generally stinky remake of my favorite film of all time. (See, I was right to have ended my criminal career sneaking into it, but we also snuck into Witchboard as well.)

Over the next two-plus decades, there have been only five occasions where I have not seen at least three films during the course of each day. One two of those outstanding occasions, time and/or money allowed me the opportunity to only see a pair of films each, and on the remaining pair of occasions, I missed out altogether on seeing any films, either due to illness of a death-dealing variety (a particularly nasty flu one year) and two due to spousal unrest in the dark days of the early '90s.

Otherwise, once the hour turns to midnight the night before, just as everyone is buzzing buzzers, hooting hooters, throwing confetti and kissing anyone within reasonable distance of their lips, my thoughts immediately turn to determining just how early I can get my friends or significant other at any given time up in the morning to hit the movie theatre. Most often, this involved me going to a late morning matinee on my own, and then having everyone else meet up with me at various points throughout the holiday to take part in my own personal form of righting the madness. Lest you think I take the attendance of these things lightly, it was on one particular occasion that Jen, in the days when we were barely friends and more in the way of glorified acquaintances, stuck about to fight our way through Costner's The Postman (I stress to this day, please read David Brin's book instead). While I had yet to form any feelings toward her at that point beyond general attraction, the fact that she remained about while others ditched on me (a couple other pals stayed as well), and even sat by me, certainly made me give more notice to her.

And now, with 2008 turning into 2009, I dragged Jen out of our extremely comfortable bed to hit an early afternoon showing of Slumdog Millionaire, followed that up immediately with Frost/Nixon, and then take a short break to grab In-N-Out across the street from Cinema City, before we closed out the day (a bit earlier than we planned) with The Spirit. (We had also dialed in time to hit Four Christmases late in the evening, but the need to feed the kids and the fact that I needed to work on Friday rather killed a four-film plan).

The day became one in which we managed to take in one film which had been nagging me for a few weeks (Slumdog, which was exquisite, though taxing at times) due to my overall theatrical malaise, one (Frost/Nixon) which, like the previous film, will surely garner a passel of Oscar nominations, and then one which there was no doubt I would go see (The Spirit) due both to its source material, of which I possess a decent pile of reprint material in magazines and comics, and also due to its director/writer, Frank Miller. That it turned out to be a most souring experience probably spoke more to my overfamiliarity with that material and general high hopes for the project; there were others around us clearly enjoying it, while others were openly hostile as they left the showing before us, so it seems the movie very much inspires a mixed bag of emotions. (Of course, don't all movies do that? Or shouldn't all movies do that? After all, I know assorted people who despise Citizen Kane, Casablanca and The Wizard of Oz for disparate reasons, most of them out of sheer idiocy. To each their own, I guess...)

I didn't want to go home, but we had to. I could have easily stayed up all night watching movies, if only they would have let us, or had the facilities to do so. The New Year's rush always gets me back in the game, and assuredly, we have since hit The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and we/I have plans to hit at least three films Thursday through Sunday coming up. I say "we/I" because Jen does not wish to go to the remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still with me. The original is on my list of all-time favorites, and is extremely precious to me, but I am going to hit a Saturday matinee of it, because I just have to know what the hell they might have done to it. If indeed it is a true trainwreck of a story sacred to me, I will rail against it. Contrariwise, should it prove to be astonishingly decent, I will say so. But I cannot just sit idly by while they possibly ravage Day... I just have to know.

Which begs the question: Is there a switch inside me that turns to "idle" at the close of each year, that indeed makes me sit idly by while the remake of Day is out for weeks? Hard to figure, but something is going on that doesn't jibe with my usual zest for seeing any film at any time in any situation (the rule by which I live my cinematic life). But, thanks to my annual New Year's antics, the point is I am now fully engaged, for whatever mysterious reason, into seeing films again. The cure is the disease is the cure.

To Auld Lang Cine-ma!

Auld Lang Cine-ma - Part I

On September 12th, on our first night of our second annual Walt Disney World vacation, Jen and I attended a late evening showing of the latest Coen Bros. effort, Burn After Reading.

It would be just over two months before we attended another film inside a theatre, when we hit an opening night showing of Quantum of Solace.

Two months without a movie. I do not do this very often.

For me, it almost becomes painful to not go and see a movie at least once a week, if not more. I am at my most relaxed inside a theatre; my most at peace. Even if the movie is unceasingly violent or unfathomably decadent, I am still deeply in peace in the surroundings of the theatre, the smell of the greasy popcorn (which I only buy perhaps one time out of every ten trips or so), the stickiness of the floors (not much of a problem these days) and even in the varied reactions of the audience, either in concert with the events in the film or merely immersed in their own rudeness and ignorance. Whether a positive or negative atmosphere, I am at most complete when I sit inside a theatre. I can breathe, I can think... I feel truly alive. It has little to do with the actual content of the films, since films vary so much from screen to screen. It has everything to do with finding my laughing place, where I am most content and free to be myself.

Even weirder than not seeing a movie for two months was my emergence back into the movie world. Once we started going again, we only saw about four movies together in the next seven weeks. I was feeling ever more disconnected from myself, and while I did fill much of the time with travel and the visiting of relations, odd trips to Disneyland and hanging with friends, I was increasingly ill at ease with myself. The fact that most of my writing was about notes from my travels and non-movie items proves this. I wasn't even watching videos. But I caught Bolt (in 3-D, no less) in Seattle with Tim and Kathryn's boys, and that allowed me to approach what is primarily a kid's flick on the level of a kid (though more like an avuncular babysitter). Even watching merely decent Disney affected far more than it would at any other time, so removed was I from my habit. This provided a needed jumpstart and reminder to me that I was too far gone from my happy place. And while I was able to hit The Tale of Desperaux in Santa Rosa with the M'otises over Xmas, all it chiefly served to do was remind me that I need to get back into the regular swing of things.

Except, looking back, it often seems that I do this near the end of every year, this seeming habit of going to the theatres less than I normally do. Since I tend to get most of my shopping done rather quickly over one weekend or a few days, and since I spend little or no time actually preparing for the holidays, I can't use them as an excuse. It's not like there are any more visitors in-town than there would be at other times of the year eating up my time and attention, so it can't be this. As for travel eating my precious time up, I have already mentioned that my last three trips or vacations in this period, I still managed to find myself inside a theatre at least once at each destination. The problem would seem to be more localized, but it has nothing to do with finding time for both Jen and I to hit films together. While I do tend to wait to see major films (or at least those she in which she is partially interested) with her, I also crawl into a seat on my own with regularity, which is how I manage to visit such dross as Twilight (surprising I have seen it, yes... but also a current and major cultural trend which also spills over, in a very juvenile way, into a genre over which I hold great concern. I had to see it. Plus, there are hot girls in it, so it wasn't a total loss...)

So what is it? I really am at a loss to explain, though perhaps now that I've made myself truly aware of the condition, I can study it closer next year. Something is keeping me from hitting the flicks like my normal self at the close of every year, and it has nothing to do with interesting new films, since I am able to find something of even the most minor interest through the sparsest of release weeks, even in the supposed doldrums of each movie year, post-Oscars to pre-summer and post-summer to pre-holiday rush. And I now get plenty of sunlight, so there is no cabin fever effect here as there was when I still dwelt in Alaska.

Luckily, I always have a way out of this situation, and while it ties in partly with all of the Oscar buzz-worthy films crashing at us like a tidal wave at this time of year (though that is certainly not all I will see), mainly I approach it the same way that I now approach writer's block: I attack it. Just as I will write non-stop about practically anything (such as this topic) just to get myself back on track, I also use a certain holiday to push myself back into the theatre seats.

Though I did not have a name for it then, nor did I know it would become a tradition with me (and, somewhat reluctantly, many of my sleep-deprived friends in the passing parade), twenty-two years ago, I turned New Year's Day into a living resolution: Auld Lang Cine-ma.

(To be continued tomorrow...)

Buzzing Thru the Pylon: Kurosawa May Be Cake, But Extra Geniuses Are the Icing

Well, I wasn't expecting this at all.

I knew that Jen's mom, Sande, was clued in on my deep admiration for the films of Akira Kurosawa when she gave me a copy of the Criterion Collection set for Drunken Angel last year for Xmas. But I really did not expect her to toss this set my way for the current holiday season:

The Great Directors, Volume 1

Five discs, five films from some of the greatest directors in film history: Chabrol, Tarkovsky, Antonioni and Schlöndorff! Oh yes... there's also that Kurosawa guy -- you may have heard of him -- represented here by Dersu Uzala, a film which not only fascinates for its incredible cinematography, but is also remarkable for letting Kurosawa film outside of Japan. Also, no samurai (or the Japanese, for that matter) to be seen at all. What you get is a vigorous though touching story set in the early 20th century of a Nanai hunter and guide who heroically leads a Soviet surveying team through the harsh Siberian wilderness, and how he comes to win the respect and admiration of his charges through his bravery and ingenuity, despite the fact that the Soviets seem him at first as a doddering old man. The film then continues years later through glimpses of the ongoing friendship between the Soviet captain and Dersu the hunter, even as Dersu's senses begin to fail him in his advancing age.

I have had a copy of Dersu Uzala for numerous years on VHS, but naturally, I was anticipating its release on DVD, as I do anytime I hear there is a video being released from one of those whom I, and many, many others, consider the Old Masters of Cinema. Recently, I did notice that Kino Video was finally doing just that -- releasing Dersu Uzala -- and I added the film to the (ahem...) short list of films I wanted to purchase in the near future. But then I noticed it was also coming out in The Great Directors, Volume 1 box set, and I suddenly became torn. Yes, it's true that I had only seen one of the other films in the set, Claude Chabrol's Les Bonnes Femmes, an odd, kind of dirty little thriller from the early days of the French New Wave, but I saw it quite a long time ago, so I didn't have much in the way of memories of it. I had enjoyed it though, but the fact that I had not seen the remaining three films in the set made it somewhat of a longshot that I would actually go out and spend the $70-90 or so that it would cost me to get the set, especially given that there were other box sets out there for which I would instantly dish out such money, such as either of the Douglas Fairbanks sets still lagging around on my To Buy list. (Sorry, but the silents usually win out for me.)

But then wonderful Sande, of whom it must be said, were I actually legally married to her daughter, would make the greatest mother-in-law in history, made the decision for me. While I did miss Christmas with Jen's family this year due to my trip up to see my brother M'otis, waiting for me when I returned were a handful of presents, and amongst the lot was The Great Directors, Volume 1. I found out later from Jen that Sande had guessed that the recent vintage of the set's release made her pretty certain that I did not have it yet. And she was right. So far, DVD-wise, she has always been right, even with my slightly deserved reputation of being one for whom it is difficult to shop.

So, since I have now bypassed my own purchase of the single Kurosawa, what else do I get besides that and the Chabrol film? A 1974 film by Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky, who most would know from the original version of Solaris (which is pretty much what I know him from, that and Stalker) called The Mirror, supposedly (from reading the description) a quite personal WWII drama based on his own experiences in his homeland at that time. From the acclaimed director of The Tin Drum, Volker Schlöndorff, comes a later film called Circle of Deceit (1981), starring Bruno Ganz (a personal favorite) in a story set in Beirut during the Lebanese Civil War.

And finally, in perfect timing with my own current run of Michelangelo Antonioni viewings over the past few months, there is his 1957 effort Il Grido. The description claims the film as the "missing link" in his career between his earlier "neorealist style" films and what they term his later "more subjectively stylized" films like L'Avventura and Red Desert, certainly two of his most famous films. Me, I'm a Blow-Up guy, and I guess I won't really know how it plays as a "missing link" until I have actually seen his films previous to this one, but I am definitely pleased to have it in the collection, if only because it affords me the chance to get acquainted with it at my leisure.

All told, a decent haul for a set: a couple with which I have history, and a trio waiting for me to discover their hidden secrets. It's nice for once to get a set where I haven't seen everything in it already. And that is how I am going to view it, watching the familiar first, and then taking advantage of what is basically a prepaid excuse to be cinematically adventurous. You should all be so lucky...