The Free-Lancer

Your Friends Are Stones

2012-02-03T00:02:00.001-05:00

It is a hard road that winds up out of the desert into the Altiplano. As oxygen becomes thin, and the cold closes in around you, it is an easy place to die. You sit and look at your hands, chapped and cracking in red lines that want to bleed but cannot.

They won't find my body here,
you whisper it to yourself with each step. When you were still young, you made a promise to your mother that you would die in the summer. It may be summer now, but the sky will not tell you the truth. Every day for months there has been nothing but a gray blanket above you that leaks a sick mixture of ash and sleet.

Era un día normal cuando naciste.

Here is my baby, she cooed even as your soft face contorted and reddened. Quickly, she would rush outside and let the sunshine fall warm upon you as she rocked you at her bosom. Ever she would hold you to the bright daylight and sing. Songs that are now written deep in the parts of you that only reveal themselves in dreams. She would remember that you never smiled in the darkness. There were no lullabies that would soothe you beneath the moon. Still, when the night is calm and the storms have yet to break, the words will swim back from behind your pulse...
Este niño tiene sueño,
No tiene cama ni cuna.
A su padre carpintero
Le diremos le haga una.

You were never prepared for the loneliness. Still you are not, even though it is your life. You stack stones atop each other in uncertain pillars that grow warm briefly as you talk, but are friends in name only. Somehow, always, they seem to enrage you in the end and you scar and scab your hands and feet to knock them down and scattered their memory...
Then you calmly rebuild them.

The First Months After

2012-02-02T22:03:00.001-05:00

I awoke in the dark to find you beside me. Your legs were pulled up and you rested your hands on the tops of your knees.
This is a dream.
You did not answer, because I did not have your words. But I had your eyes, your smile.
Yes, this is a dream.
Then I turned with you to look. The world stretched out beneath us and a fire raged out on the plain. Far out on the rim of the sky, silent lightning flashed and splintered.
Our old world is ending.
You looked at me and I studied your eyes to see if there was truth there, even if only a mirror of something I already knew. I took you by your hand and we stood.
Let us go and find a new one.
Still you did not speak, but as we turned to follow the high paths away from the fires your smile followed.

I awoke in the dark and was alone.
"This is not a dream."
It is still the old world. I walked out into the city and saw no fires. There was a calm. The sky was covered in cloud that drank up the electric light to make a false dawn.
When the clouds broke, I wrote your name on the rain. The storm was moving and it could find you.

In the ruins of a forgotten cafe, snow drifts covering the windows where once there had been panes of glass.
Had I dreamt?
Outside, the sun had broken through in streams of light that crossed the plaza. The stone conquistador frowned on an empty, white world that would never remember.
I found a table and brushed it clear. There were two chairs left, both cracked and but poor reminders of their former selves. In clouds of steam, I spoke your name.
The wind came softly to answer, with gentle flurries and abandon.

A Night's Work

2012-01-25T17:18:00.000-05:00

I stood with the others, gathered as we were around the back of the truck. Ian stood above us on the lift-gate with his hands outstretched. A denim clad profit. The sky was just starting to show a pink hue. None of us had slept the night for the sake of a few dollars. He put on his theatrical tone and waved an all encompassing gesture over us saying,

Tonight, we have learned some things. And we have lost some things.

This was in the parking lot of an abandoned Captain D's.

Sometime around midnight, I had been standing within a thick mist that had settled abruptly at sunset. Light shot through in harsh angles from unseen sources and made the fog glow with a disharmonious gravity that was as empty and intangible as the vapor itself. You Dark Night, behind your vale, why do you try to take from us our imitation suns! Why do you blot out the stars we make for ourselves? See how even now they pierce your shield and make hopeful our hearts! The night could not answer, for the wind had been gathered into its storehouse and even our voices were swallowed up in the gloom.

Away in other lands, there was truly a winter that could be felt, and held in the palms of hands. Within the mist was but a chill, a skeletal form of something like a forgotten season. We moved from that foggy den in a convoy; our headlamps cutting a fleeting course that disappeared behind us in an angry red glare. Ian led us then, singing over the radio as was his want and his privilege. I would have joined my voice with his, but my heart was ponderous with notions. I feared the fog outside would steal my words.

Hours later, as I drove away through breaking dawn, I wondered what I had learned. I knew, at the very least, what I had lost. Every night steals something from you unless you throw your soul before and run behind, grabbing fistfuls of life where it is hidden in moonlight, in starlight. The mist had thwarted our dash, and we called upon God for His sun to right the wrongs of His night.
Brothers, from the same hands, and always at war.

Moving towards home, the city lay spread out below me as the beams of day were sent, fiery gold and full of strength. All the caffeine was making my teeth clench and wild thoughts were swimming in my blood. I wanted to write love letters, and then agonize never to send them. To go hunting for my lost poetry and take it all back to give to someone else. As I mused, I looked to my left where the river bent and wound through the ravine and there! There the the fog had retreated, hovering over the waters to drown the secrets it had stolen that night. And at once, my heart was light as though a prayer.

Triggers

2012-01-22T22:03:00.003-05:00

The evenings used to be ritual. Tea and conversation in Spanish while I mostly listened. I wasn't the only man in a house of women, but we so seldom saw Karina's father that he remains to this day a complete stranger to me. Sometimes on Friday nights we would meet at Marcela's and trade tea for rum and wine and Ximena with her sister would pry me open to jab at my sensitive innards. Now when I drink my tea, it is out of a blue, metal cup and no one forces me to talk about my sentimientos.
The first husband had hanged himself one week before Ximena's first daughter was born. That's why I had to talk about feelings, and what I missed of home, and how it felt to be heartbroken. She would not let the men in her life escape the easy way anymore, there was far too much at stake.
I talked about being held up at gunpoint, beaten in the streets, falling out of love. I told them that I was the happiest I'd ever been. Back then, the tea had such flavor.

Now, I walk out in the rain looking at the yard, covered as it is in leaves. The trains howl in the distance; the metallic clack, horns, and the houses rumble. I think maybe that it is the worst time of the season, and the birds have the right idea to keep passing through to wherever birds go. You can feel the tensions of the year, her growing pains, in the voices of everyone you know. Relationships were straining against such violence. The reminders of the previous Januaries still lingered: the hole in the wall made by one of the brother's fist. The scars in the paint that ran along the side of my car. The lone bottle of conditioner left in the shower and untouched.
Friends and lovers are better met in spring; warmer weather, warmer hearts.

It would be good to leave again, but we lacked wings. The old same shackles still clamped our ankles, and there is nothing more comforting than the familiarity of bondage. Still, my heart said move and find that next piece of life. Sleeping alone in the same place for too long is just practice for being dead.

Somewhere I'd find a postcard and in as few words as possible send it off and hope for salvation.
Send Money.
I would address it to some last true soul I knew in the world.

I wrote Brandon for money from the end of the rope when my last pesos were buying cold empanadas. He was no problem giving it to me. Of course, he said, how much do you need?
I would have wrote my mother, but didn't. She had asked what I wanted for Christmas and I had said money. She went ahead and sent some straight to me even though it was November. Even so, she had presents waiting for me when I made it home on Christmas day. One was a new jacket that has saved my life many times since where the money had the once. She was always doing that, saving my life. I think she saw that she had as much ownership on it as I did, since she brought it into the world. Maybe all mothers think that way a little. I'll never know.

A Winter's Refrain

2012-01-18T20:50:00.001-05:00

I would tell stories long into the cold nights about the nights that had been even colder. About the time in the mountains when my clothes froze on my body so hard that they wouldn't catch flame even as I stood full in the small fire. Only the tips of my shoes melted.
As I talked, we huddled around a gas heater like hobos around a trashcan fire in some Steinbeck story. Equal parts artists and the dispossessed, trying to make money out of our nothing. The security guard later saw us waiting for the ancient elevator with boxes in our hand and told us that there were stairs that might be quicker. One of us just smiled and said,
"If we liked to work, we wouldn't be in television." And it was probably true.
I knew where I was going in life, but I wondered about the others. Older, and many long past the days I'd yet to see where past decisions really start to set, and your life becomes a concrete thing. Some with kids, all with debts.
That same day I had met a woman who stirred my heart; there had been precious few in the last months. Smiles are often misread, and sometimes sadness is just the way of things. I felt like she was an affirmation of something, but I didn't know what...and even then, only in passing. The feeling was gone in a days time and then, even though none knew my heart, I was still embarrassed of it. Her spoken for, as the best ones are, I had to simply nod my head in respect and thank her for her beauty.

There had been an unusual progression of fascinating women that had passed into my life in that week's time, and I started to worry that I was turning sentimental. The Big Man at that cold job was near twice my age, and he had just laughed. He knew the score from long before I had been on the scene, and not even a week later I would be nodding in solemn understanding and wondering if I would be naive my whole life, and if bitter was the only alternative.

In the hectic tumble that is the falling down of days, the first weeks of the year collapsed into new paradigm. The shift came as though in the midst of a dance; two pairs of eyes meet and then lose each other only to meet again when the rhythm changes and the lights dim. As Juliet was only eyes before Romeo's heart built the rest of her out of the scattered bits of dreams he'd carried. We know how that story ends though, and tragedy is only beautiful once.
The joy I had seen in my friend's face had started to fade, and I felt angry. People around us, people close to us in the city and in the business failed so spectacularly every day at things that should come natural. It wasn't his fault, and I knew straight away that he would soldier on with his shoulders down against fate. The fight would be valiant, and they say that's what builds character. The problem was one of belief, and if we are to hold up a God that asks everything of us, then its seems best to let sleeping dogs lie. He knew as much, but a cold bed is a hard lesson.

Old Roads

2012-01-10T19:22:00.000-05:00

Each story I tell begins the same way, with the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing. Where once we walked in light and certainty, there is now a tunnel as if in a wood. Dark branches arch above, pressing together to block out the sun. This city is a forest.

It was not so long ago that the stars were above us, in the high places somewhere near the world's end. We lived as nomads, and the people were good to us. The stranger with his bus who drove us down from the summit and the many kilometers after, past fields of crops and factories that made the air redolent of processed dog food. The old man with his pick-up, who loved his town so much all he wanted to do was take us up to see the lights. Not a one of them spoke our language, but they could read our faces.

We came by night to the town beneath the volcano. It smoldered as it slept, breathing steam into the sky so none would forget its authority. There we learned to dance to rhythms of a far off and sunny place, guided by hands that pressed into ours and pulled us close. In the cool of the night, as we lay entwined, the soft dialogue of our breathing held more truth in it than all of our words since.

We would be reminded that we had souls, and of the hands that created them. On the hard paths that led into the teeth of the mountains, where death would tug at our coats as to toss us to a beautiful death...for everything there was beautiful. The cold nights, and deer would watch on with more curiosity then fear, and the fox would stand guard by the rocks. The snow wet us, then the rain, but we never froze.

Somewhere near the end, our paths split and we never saw each other again. The earth rose up to the sky, and miles and miles later, the city grew and enveloped and choked and trapped. There are ways out yet, though they are dark. There are places that wait and people that wait.

The New Year

2012-01-09T01:07:00.002-05:00

The weather was balmy, even though the sky was the pale grey of winter storms. I shrugged myself into my suit jacket, stuck my tie into my pocket, and trudged down the street to where my car was parked. The previous year hadn't been a failure, not quite, but in any event it was gone.

Christmas trees were already in front of houses. On the curb of the street. Lined up in the park, where person after person had taken one degenerate's lead. Whether the city would pick them up or not didn't concern me, though I doubted it. They would more than likely burn before then.

Nothing was really different, but I figured I would go on thinking that there was really a fresh start that day. Things certainly had potential to play out better in the coming months...if I could get some money together. Poverty had been an interesting experiment, but whatever I had to learn had probably presented itself after a year.

A week later he would fall in love, and the world seemed to really change a little. He had changed. Giddy, even to the point of being stupid...but I didn't blame him. I envied him truly, because after so long he still had the heart to play the games of budding lovers. I had run out of poetry that last night in Puerto Natales when the dueña of the corner shop had taken pity on me and sold me the beer even though I didn't have the empty bottle to trade. I didn't know it then, but when I woke that next morning I had forgotten how to be a Romantic.

She wouldn't know any of that, and she still smiled at me from thousands of miles away, in the desert. If I did go back...I would go back...

It would be cold again soon; the real cold. It had been the coldest winter of my life when I first fell in love. I didn't think it would be that cold again, and anyway it wouldn't mean as much. Snow would be more of an inconvenience, because there would be no music in it. I smile, still, thinking of Montreal and blizzards. To me, that will always be a happy memory, and the only real Christmas I ever had.

Y así pasan los días, esperando. Como siempre. Para siempre.

Chile

2010-05-02T23:23:00.003-04:00

Hello. If you are reading this, then God bless you. As I write it is the beginning of May, 2010 and I haven't updated this blog since the beginning of the year. I have moved, temporary (let's hope) to writing in a new location.

If you would like, you can follow my adventures at South and South Still, the chronicle of my experiences. If you don't care for that, well, maybe I'll see you back here sometime in December.

Cheers,
JFM

Mup-date

2009-12-11T09:58:00.002-05:00

The title is a not-so-clever smash up of "Muppet" and "update." Get it? Anyway....

The only way to make disco cool again...

Yesterday I discovered, and then promptly posted on Facebook, a video of the Muppets performing Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody proving that the only way to make awesome things more awesome is to add Muppets. Classic literature? Check. (Christmas Carol, Treasure Island.) Saturday Morning Cartoons? Check. (Muppet Babies) Road Trip Movies? Check (Muppets Take Manhattan) Classic Rock? Check. (The aforementioned video.)

Ukrainian Bell Carols?

Check.

And for those of you who missed it on Facebook, below is the Bohemian Rhapsody video. Rock on, Animal. Rock on.

Rules to Live By

2009-12-09T12:44:00.002-05:00

“Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.

--Ernest Hemingway

Today I discovered the most delightful site, entitled

1001 Rules for my Unborn Son

It is exactly what the title suggests, and it is brilliant. By far the best use of tumblr I have yet discovered.

Adventus

2009-12-07T21:52:00.006-05:00

Reflecting on the current Holiday Season, I was inspired to scribble out this bit of prose. Enjoy:

-Picture the night horizon lit by fire. The distance flares and glows with orange and red and yellow, and all around it is black. This is where we stand, on a low ridge facing the North, where the flames rage and broil. Behind us is a world that we barely understand, but that we cling to with every beat of our hearts and breath of our lungs. Beyond the fire is nothing, and the fire is creeping our way.
-All around the city now it is cold, for we are once more in a familiar place at a familiar time. The sky is a flat gray that looks cold, if ever something could. The city is filled with people who never look up, and filled with a longing for a hope that has come, and waits on them if only they could find it. This time is advent, and Christmas is approaching.
-There is an obsession with light, and we see it all around us in the strands of white and color that hang from trees and houses, filling windows and adorning hearths. The lights are bright, and bring us near them with a beauty that attracts and comforts. Yet the lights are electric, and as cold as the day’s unwelcoming sky.
-We wait, for we know that soon the lights will fail, and the sky will darken, and the fires will begin. We will call it the Apocalypse.

-There is an old man with us, who carries with him words that are scrawled in mud upon ragged bits of cloth. We are in the city, but it is no longer familiar and the time is no longer known. The old man reads to us every night from the words he carries, and we try to remember in our hearts.
-‘There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea. Men will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken. At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. When these things begin to take place, stand up and life up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.’

-This is the story we tell now at Christmas, and we hold our heads in our hands as we search the skies for our redemption...and all the while long for the electric lights of our past--though we have forgotten that they were cold.

2009-12-07T16:41:00.001-05:00

Spelling Error

2009-11-30T11:42:00.003-05:00

I am in the enviable position of having a stand up comedian for a friend. I know that, for most of you, this is an unattainable dream, but don't lose hope; there's always Christmas.

My friend, who goes by the stage name OD, is no stranger to this blog and the internets in general. I think I even have his own blog linked over there on the right somewhere. This morning he put up a video of one of his best bits and linked it to Twitter, and I just wanted to share it because it is one of my personal favorites and I know most of you don't *cough* tweet.

I Can't Spell My Name! from nakaonwood on Vimeo.

Up in the Air

2009-11-20T10:06:00.006-05:00

Greetings fellow humans. Did you take the time to appreciate the fresh, free air this morning? I hope so, because very soon we will all be living underground breathing from recyclers and cursing the very sun that once kept us warm and happy. The robot apocalypse is nigh, so repent ye sinners!

On another note entirely, I recently had the good fortune to be invited to a special screening of Jason Reitman's new film Up in the Air, hosted by the director himself. Reitman, as you will no doubt recall, is the writer/director responsible for the excellent Thank You for Smoking and the game-changing Juno (though he did not write that one...we all know the stripper story by now.) He is considered one of the film world's brightest emerging talents, and having seen him talk in person, I can confirm that he is officially a cool dude (even though he is Canadian.)

The screening began with Reitman introducing the film and answering a few questions, all the while sporting a plaid flannel with a skullcap and looking for all the world like a hipster lumberjack. He told of the seven year struggle to get Up in the Air made, and how over that time the film had matured and evolved in the writing (it is adapted from a novel) as he himself went from being single to a family man. This is an important detail, because at its core, Up in the Air is about human relationships. He also spoke of how, after doing commercials and short films, he had adapted Thank You for Smoking only to be rejected by everybody. Not surprisingly, nobody wanted to make a satire on the American tobacco industry that lampooned both sides of the smoking argument equally (had it been staunchly anti-smoking I'm sure he would have had an easier time.) His break came when, out of the blue, a San Fransisco-based internet millionaire heard about the script and decided to pay for the movie himself. The lesson here, kids? Hard work and determination only pay off if you can find yourself a millionaire.

Reitman then talked about Juno, even throwing around a few jokes about the backlash to the film (which I think is more aimed at Cody's script then Reitman's directorial abilities.) After much ado, including the BBQ restaurant Fat Mat's providing Reitman with an honorary T-Shirt and bottle of sauce since they get a shout out in Up in the Air, the film rolled.

And what a film. To start off with, I firmly believe Up in the Air (to be released around Christmas) will be an Oscar contender, certainly for Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay. It is an all around impressive and emotional film that really only fails on one point: it stars George Clooney. Clooney doesn't play a character (as he seldom does) he simply acts like himself; complete with unconvincing reactions and unbearable smugness. It is a shame, too, because the rest of the cast is phenomenal to include another fantastic turn by Jason Bateman and the welcome appearance at the end of fellow Southerner, Danny McBride. Further, there are some great cameos from Zack Galiafinakis and J. K. Simmons (the dad from Juno, J. Jonah Jameson). One of the other nice casting touches was actually recording interviews with recently fired individual in St. Louis and Detroit, where the film was shot, and using them in the film. Real people telling their real stories.

Up in the Air strikes a very raw chord with its narrative, as it is essentially about a man and a company that are hired to fire people: outsourced "termination engineers" who are very good at what they do. Clooney's character literally lives "up in the air", flying from place to place to fire people for cowardly executives who can't do it themselves. In today's economic climate, a few very interesting points are raised by the film's story about the ethics behind firing employees and just what a company owes its workforce (my answer? Nothing.) Reitman said he began the script seven years ago simply as a comedy complete with absurd firing scenes with people reacting in wild ways, but by the time they started shooting earlier this year he had cut nearly all of the firing scenes out of the story. The ones that remain are poignant and thought-provoking.

However, as I previously stated, the story is about relationships, and like this years 500 Days of Summer, it doesn't seek to present a trite sort of "Hollywood" answer to love and commitment. Up in the Air, therefore, is not really a "feel good" movie. In contrast, it feels like an honest look at life and love in a modern age that has robbed most people of hope and feelings of worth, or personal connection.

Don't read that last paragraph wrong, though. The movie is funny, and at times (despite Clooney) quite charming in the same ways that Reitman's previous films were. The man certainly is a talent, and he has continued with Up in the Air to solidify his place in cinema. Take a look at the trailer at the end of this post and know that the film is excellently written, and very timely.

Word Play

2009-09-15T17:09:00.004-04:00

...May break my bones. Well, other peoples, maybe. Mine are made of adamantium.

THIS STORY is the headline over at Drudge currently (as I type) and I must say it is a report of mind-numbing stupidity on the behalf of our wonderful Legislature.

Basically, Politico sums up the madness thusly:

"House Rules Committee Chairwoman Louise Slaughter (D-NY) has released a helpful, updated primer for members regarding their conduct on the floor and in committees.

Especially useful: The section on how to properly insult the executive branch in the in the chamber.

"Disgrace" and "nitwits" -- okay.

"Liar" or "sexual misconduct" -- ixnay.

Under section 370 of the House Rules and Manual it has been held that a Member could:

• refer to the government as “something hated, something oppressive.”
• refer to the President as “using legislative or judicial pork.”
• refer to a Presidential message as a “disgrace to the country.”
• refer to unnamed officials as “our half-baked nitwits handling foreign affairs.”

Likewise, it has been held that a member could not:
• call the President a “liar.”
• call the President a “hypocrite.”
• describe the President’s veto of a bill as “cowardly.”
• charge that the President has been “intellectually dishonest.”
• refer to the President as “giving aid and comfort to the enemy.”
• refer to alleged “sexual misconduct on the President’s part.”

h/t Marty Kady, who is neither a nitwit nor a liar."

If I were to be surprised by any of this, I would have to trade in my blogger card and go join the circus...because I'd be a clown. I wonder if it is any significance that the House Rules Committee "Chairwoman" has the last name Slaughter.

I wish I could find some irony in the above, but I just can't.

Orson Welles: Greatness Defined

2009-09-11T13:06:00.003-04:00

A lot can be said about the man responsible for changing the face of cinema with Citizen Kane, but as often is the case, it is best to let the man himself do the talking.

Orson Welles Smokes A Cigar - watch more funny videos

I'm not sure what that clip was from, but I like to believe it was part of an introduction to a late 70's television movie about the Christmas Story.

Orson Wells drunk as a skunk..CLASSIC! - watch more funny videos

The above was actually Orson himself completely wrecking a champagne commercial. The following is an insanely funny skit based off of said commercial brought to the internet by some brilliant and intrepid young comedians.

More Drunk Orson Welles Commercial Outtakes - watch more funny videos

Orson Welles died on the 10th of October, 1985 in Hollywood. Boiled alive by the studio system.

The Story About the Pants That I Am Wearing

2009-08-28T10:49:00.002-04:00

It was while I was having coffee with the Japanese businessmen this morning that I realized just how baffling the last twelve hours had been. By this point my pants were soaked from the knee down due to the torrential downpour that had begun well before dawn, and had yet to cease. My feet were also soaked, and worse, beginning to itch. I thought it best not to mention this fact to my new Japanese friends, who were still engaged in conversation amongst themselves over a question I had just posed:
"Would you consider it racist to yell 'Godzilla' at Japanese people?"
As they dissected the concept with their poised Eastern wits, I reflected on my pants situation and how pants had factored prominently in my adventures up until that point. Pants more or less started the whole mess that had led me to that coffee shop.

The pants in question are a pair of fairly nondescript khakis (you wouldn't be able to pick them out of a line up--unless all the other pants were ethnic) that I purchased on sale at Wal-Mart. They were inexpensive khakis, being on sale, but unfortunately a little too long. Despite this fact, I bought them and promptly began wearing them with reckless disregard for the appearance of my heel to ankle region. Then I met Rebecca, who among other things, possessed the necessary skills to trim my trousers. For a trifling fee (in this case the admission price to a Tarantino film) she claimed she could alter the length of the pants in question to the proper, respectable length via a process mysterious called "hemming", for which Ernest is named.

Thus I relinquished my pants into Rebecca's care and went on about my life in the usual sort of way until I received word via helpful woodland creatures (far more reliable than Verizon) that the pants had been successfully "hemmed" and were ready to once more don my sub-torso. A rendezvous was therefore established at a predetermined time and place, with great care taken in the planning to ensure the security of the exchange. It was decided that a public place was best, during a casual gathering of other friends, family, and close associates who would have no prior knowledge of the "hemming." Team trivia at Rocky Mountain Pizza was the agreed upon rallying point and it was understood that both I and Rebecca would bring along enough non-pants related personnel to make the team trivia scenario convincing.

At this point in my reminiscing, the Japanese businessmen informed me that they must be getting to their "business" and so sadly depart, having failed to conclusively resolve the conundrum which I had posited earlier in the story. I too decided that it was well within my rights as an American citizen to go to my place of employment, sodden as I was and now quite tardy. It was while at my desk some short moments later that I return my mind to the saga of the previous eve.

The pants transaction was a success, but not a flawless one. Rebecca was careless in the hand off and suddenly all of our other "teammates" became aware of the farce in which they were unwitting participants. However, their ire was easily assuaged once Rebecca showed them just how masterfully she had been able to "hem" the khakis. Awe quickly replaced our teammates anger, and soon the pants were out of sight, out of mind and we gave trivia a solid run, coming in fourth but nearly achieving victory by as little as a single point.

Post-trivia, it was clear that though the pants exchange had been a bit compromising, it was a decided success. Rebecca, the notorious agent provocateur Shanerton, and I felt that surely a celebration was in order. To our mild dismay, four of the other players in our maddening charade had call to part (as lovers are want to do from the company of beguilers.) Thus we bid adieu to Brent and Delaina, who I had brought along as part of my cover, and also Mark and his girlfriend (who in a strange twist of coincidence are both Brent's and Delaina's roommates respectively.) The four having departed, Rebecca's intrepid younger brother Robert Lee led us towards his dwelling where, my pants in hand, we would be meeting with more conspirators to whisper sweet seditions long into the night.

In a room filled with mirrors, we met with Rebecca and Robert's sister and the second part to the globe-trotting duo, of which Shane was the other, code named "Shetty", Hetty. The house was determined to be safe enough for the pants to be brought inside, and Hetty was soon leading us in conferencing about the nuances of New Zealander folk musicians along with the renowned comedian and saboteur, O.D., and the supposedly innocent roommate, Ashley. Apparently, prior to our arrival, a dance party had been in the works, but as the proverb states "pants and dancing are a deadly combination", and as the pants to people ratio was currently skewed in the favor of pants, the dancing was put on standby.

Before long, the sounds of a nearby fiesta came wafting to our ears on the night breeze and it was determined that Rebecca, Shane, and I were duty bound by the Awesome Code to infiltrate (or in the modern parlance, "crash") said soirée. Robert, Hetty, and Ashley were not up to the task, presumably due to lack of respect for the code or possibly insufficient training, and O.D. uncertain as to how best he should proceed. We left him to his indecision and walked across the street armed with warm cans of Natty that Ashley had strategically placed in our care in order to more easily subvert the partiers suspiciousness.

It did not take long for the three of us to assess the situation: the party was a Georgia Tech "kegger" populated by clearly underage frat boys and petite Asian girls; a veritable visual stereotype. Our infiltration was achieved quite easily, and before long Shane and Rebecca were engaging the frat boys in their traditional, though nonsensical custom of "beer pong." I however was suddenly aware of my blatantly obvious lack of pants. Almost stricken in a moment by panic, I realized that I had left the package back at the house, carelessly endangering my friends. To my great relief, it was at that very moment that I received a phone call from O.D. asking me (very discreetly) if one of us had left a bag of pants. In hushed tones, I explained the situation to him and he agreed to traffic the pants to the party himself. Once he arrived, all was once again right in the world...if only for a brief time.

Shane and Rebecca would go on to win a round of beer pong as O.D. and I studied the awkwardness of our surroundings. At some point an impromptu dancing lesson took place as Rebecca attempted to instruct me in something known as "swing dancing" and Shane and O.D. took it upon themselves to, and I quote the poet, "boogy."

I barely escaped alive, the last thing I remember hearing being "It's my duty to please that booty." A few short hours later the storm broke and I found myself having coffee with the Japanese business men wearing a pair of pants that had more history to them than any one article of clothing should.

The Funny Thing About Funny People

2009-08-10T14:33:00.006-04:00

I was not entirely surprised to learn, after its opening weekend, that Funny People had failed to have the draw that Judd Apatow's earlier efforts had boasted. I thought, perhaps, that the long run-time would have something to do with that, as well as all the hold over summer nonsense films that continue to rake in cash against all reason (i.e. G-Force, Ice Age 3, Harry Potter, etc.) I also recognized that the tone was significantly more somber in Funny People than in Knocked Up or The 40 Year Old Virgin...yet I didn't initially think that this was an issue.

Therefore it came to me as quite a shock when many of my friends began to get around to seeing the film and expressing their utter disdain for it. On more than one occasion I was confronted by a friend who absolutely detested the film. Why was this such as shock? Chiefly because Funny People is one of the most full-on moralistic parables in recent memory. For people (like my friends) who more-or-less uphold traditional moral values in relation to marriage and family, Funny People should have come as a welcome to surprise. It certainly did for myself.

In an even odder twist, an op-ed in the Times picked up on this thread and developed some very astute conclusions about the conservatism of Apatow's films and how Funny People demonstrates where moralism starts to cost people, and how Americans apparently (if judging by the box office as well as my friend's reactions) just don't care for that sort of confrontation.

The entire, fantastic article can be read HERE, but two quotes that really stood out to me are as follows:
"No contemporary figure has done more than Apatow, the 41-year-old auteur of gross-out comedies, to rebrand social conservatism for a younger generation that associates it primarily with priggishness and puritanism. No recent movie has made the case for abortion look as self-evidently awful as “Knocked Up,” Apatow’s 2007 keep-the-baby farce. No movie has made saving — and saving, and saving — your virginity seem as enviable as “The 40-Year Old Virgin,” whose closing segue into connubial bliss played like an infomercial for True Love Waits.

"But “Funny People” is a Judd Apatow movie — endless penis jokes and all. It’s just a more grown-up one, in which doing the right thing comes harder, and bad choices aren’t easily unwound. The way it’s been received suggests that his fan base isn’t ready to hear this kind of story yet. But it’s also reminder that Americans of all ages tend to like their social conservatism much more in theory than in practice."

What then, I wonder, did my supposedly morally conservative (read Christian) friends find so unappealing about the film? Was the issue, as the Times writer postulates, that they only want to be handed the "sexy", easier to digest values of life, love, and marital bliss? Could it be that when the rubber meets the road (to borrow the colloquialism) too many "social conservatives" are ready to frown and abandon ship?

A Return to Form

2009-08-09T15:14:00.006-04:00

Free-Lancing in Dublin town.

Having completed a grand European excursion wherein I acted as Ambassador of Goodwill Towards America in the fine countries of Ireland, the United Kingdom, Spain, and France I returned home and found at once that I was "blogged out." The reason for this blogging exhausted relates directly to the fabulous chronicle of my journey that I kept up at YANKS ACROSS THE POND. If you didn't read along, shame on you. However, there is always time to go back and read bits here and there at your leisure, for the blog will remain up indefinitely and, as is this one, is fully searchable. Try typing random words and phrases into the search and see what comes up. You never know.

Now I return to the Free-Lancer, at long last. In the time since I took my European hiatus I have seen many of the big summer tent-pole pictures that Hollywood has rolled out, and none impressed me more than Public Enemies. I must, as it is long since past due, abstain from writing a full review. I will state this for the record: Public Enemies is the best film to have come out this year and is one of the best period pictures to come out since 2007's The Assassination of Jesse James (of which many of you know that I find to be one of the best movies ever made.)

I saw Funny People and found it reasonably entertaining, but over-long. There is a considerable amount of depth to the picture, and Sandler gives one of the best performances of his career--let alone of any "comedic" actor-turned-serious. I would warn you that if you are going into the film looking for the goofiness of Sandler's standard fare, or the crude humor of Apatow's other work, you will likely come away disappointed. Funny People is a much more mature film making endeavor, and it should be approached as such.

Finally, my full endorsement of any film yet to be released this summer must fall squarely behind Moon, which if you are not familiar with the picture, is a sci-fi drama staring Sam Rockwell and directed by first-timer Duncan Jones AKA David Bowie's son Zowie Bowie. The film is beautifully crafted in both story and cinematography, and marks a return to form for the "serious" science fiction picture (something that was almost achieved two years ago with Sunshine, though that movie unraveled catastrophically in the end.) Rockwell is amazing (as he usually is) and the film is gripping and thought-provoking while also managing to keep a under current of humor, mostly due to Rockwell's incredible on screen charm.
Here is the trailer:

Rolled out in a limited release fashion, I believe Moon has gone wide now and if you hurry, you should still be able to catch it in theatres. Forget the travesty that is G.I. Joe (a heartbreaking affront to the joys of my childhood) and shoot for the Moon.

Globe Trotting

2009-06-25T10:28:00.002-04:00

In a matter of days I will be packing up my lance and heading to Europe.

To that effect, posting hear will take a hiatus, but never fear. The entire chronicle of my (and my companions') endeavors shall be available for your reading pleasure at the brand new blog created specifically for the upcoming trip:

YANKS ACROSS THE POND.

I hope to blog a good amount over there, and even get videos up at regular intervals. I sort of dropped the ball on that in Australia last year (at least in regards to the video aspect.) However, I am now a seasoned travel writer, and Europe looks like it has a lot more available internet then Oz did.

Hope you check in.

Cheers.

Friday Batman

2009-06-19T12:05:00.003-04:00

HBO recently aired The Dark Knight. Leading up to the "premiere" they cut together these awesome promos with footage and quotes from the film set to the Pixies "Where Is My Mind?" already made famous for that super sweet ending shot in Fight Club.

These promos are both mesmerizing and killer creepy. The first is the full, 1 minute spot followed up by the quicker, more sinister 30 second trailer.

Epitaph

2009-06-14T17:29:00.003-04:00

To be scrawled in flowing script upon a headstone of obsidian:

All the world was a burning mass of unsatisfied yearnings and misplaced hopes,
yet the sun that set on the two of them died as beautifully as their dreams.

Friday Batman

2009-06-12T13:11:00.001-04:00

There are a couple of these fake Batman and Joker PSAs on Funnyordie.com. They are of varying degrees of humorous, but his one makes me laugh every time:

Dark Knight PSA: Heavy Lifting - watch more funny videos

No Sh*t, Sherlock

2009-06-08T12:47:00.003-04:00

Linked from the AP wire on Breitbart:

"WASHINGTON (AP) - A rare poll of Iranians says that few of them have favorable opinions of the United States, a view that hasn't changed much from before the election of President Barack Obama.

The survey, taken last month, shows that 29 percent of Iranians view the U.S. positively. In February 2008, a similar poll of Iranians showed 34 percent with favorable views of the U.S."

They have a word over there in Farsi and Arabic for our President, which if roughly translated and printed on this blog would get me arrested for a hate crime.

Friday Batman

2009-06-05T11:23:00.001-04:00

For Brent...

The Tain

2009-06-04T13:41:00.003-04:00

I saw the The Decemberists live last night for the third time. Later I will tell you of the show, for twas awe-inspiring. However, for now I just want to point you to my favorite of their endeavors: the musical interpretation of the Táin Bó Cúailnge (pronoucned t-oi-n bo cooley), one of the most important works in Irish mythology (interpreted from Irish as "The Cattle Raid of Cooley").

Here, the 18 plus minute song simply entitled "The Tain" is visualized in an awesome paper-style animation that explains the story. Enjoy:

Build the Shelters

2009-06-04T10:22:00.004-04:00

Our President is not only a pompous and ignorant fool, but he is actively working to get us all killed.

If you can watch this video of the "highlights" from Obama's speech in Cairo and not vomit or have your head explode, then you are beyond help.

If we are not at war with Islam, as Obama stated, then we are being destroyed--for Islam is at war with us. With America, with Christians, with Jews. It is the expressed intent of the Muslim leaders of the world, based on the Qu'ran, to establish Islam as the ruling religion of the world and subjugate or destroy all others.

Now we are going to give Palestine a state? We are going to let Iran have nuclear power? How is ANY of that in "America's Interest?"

"We can't impose peace" he says. Apparently all that Ivy League schooling didn't include a single history lesson. Apparently, as he talks about removing "all weapons from every country" he is forgetting how peace was imposed through two of such weapons.

Obama attempts in his speech, as so many of these blind politicians do these days, to separate "extremists" from the "peaceful Muslim nations" not realizing that the only reason we have been fighting "rogue" factions of terrorists and haven't been engaged in all out, open war with Egypt, Syria, Jordan, Iran, Lebannon, etc...is because we have maintained an overwhelming and superior military presence in the Near East that leaves clandestine operations the only viable option open to the enemy. Each of those Muslim dictators knows that we have...or at least have for the moment...the ability to wipe them off the map at a moment's notice. If all things were equal, as Obama wishes them, then without a doubt we would be struck first, fast, and without mercy. If the ascension of Islam into the position that America currently holds was assured through all out war, then we would already be dust and ash.

He's Just Not Into Chick Flicks

2009-06-03T14:59:00.007-04:00

I don’t think I would be dropping any bombs on anyone in saying that I watch a lot of movies. If you could stream movies from my head you’d probably have a much better selection than what you can view for free at Hulu.com (shameless plug.) That being said, even though I watch an inordinate amount of films, I try to be selective. There are too many classics I haven’t seen for me to justify dropping down in front of something like Saw 2-5 (are they up to six yet?). I figured until I have seen every John Wayne movie, I won’t go near Twilight.

That being said, there are two periods of time every year that, for a few reasons, I engage in what can only be described as cinematic flagellation. The first period is of course “awards season” in the fall and early winter where all the crap meant to pass as the best in cinema that year is carted out in limited spurts to garner almost obligatory acclaim before being relegated a few months later to the five dollar bin at Wal-Mart (The Reader, for example.) I do my duty as a critic of film and culture and see nearly all of the nominated films (or potential nominees) primarily to write brilliantly articulated warnings to anyone and everyone who might mull over the idea of buying a ticket to Revolutionary Road instead of Gran Torino (one of last year's, nay the decade’s, best films).
That is my duty, and I take my charge as The Free-Lancer very seriously.

Now, the second period is a little less honorable. It is the time, usually during the summer, wherein for a host of reasons (boredom, too much freedom in front of a computer at work, curiosity, etc…) I spend a few weeks to a month watching....wait for it….romantic comedies. This is without a doubt one of the most painful times of my year. Sometimes I discover a gem (last year’s Definitely, Maybe was a surprising treat…and Zack Galiafinakis and Rob Cordrey were hilarious in the otherwise abysmal What Happens in Vegas.) Yet more often than not I feel like I have to work to finish these movies, and in the end I have lost just that much more faith in the American movie-going public. If ever there was a reason to be a misogynist, it is the modern chick flick.

Doesn't this guy look like Bradley Cooper?

I say all this because that dreaded period in my year has apparently begun for me again, as I have just finished watching He’s Just Not That Into You

…and I want to blow my brains out.

The movie is over two hours long, has maybe five jokes in it (despite a cast that boasts Justin Long, Bradley Cooper, and E from Entourage.) The length is the first problem, because all the insight this movie has to offer is in its title. The rest of the time is spent showing us the myriad ways in which women are insane, delusional, or just plain retarded. The great cast is wasted on a stupid, one note script, though the girl from Big Love was endearing. Scarlett Johansson just plays a whore like she always does, and Ben Affleck doesn’t get enough screen time. At the end of the movie the pearls of wisdom Hollywood wishes to leave us with are:
1) You can cheat on your wife and still keep you marriage, but you better not smoke cigarettes or you are the scum of the earth.
2) Women are allowed to break up marriages for “true love”, but if that guy goes back to his wife and leaves the adulteress, he is a horrible person.
3) We are meant to believe Justin Long is a stud (you know, the scrawny kid from Dodgeball.)
4) Sometimes your happy ending isn’t a person, it’s moving on…WTF?

Also, Drew Barrymore is in the movie for about a minute, and I have no idea why. Ultimately, the best part of the movie was the Keane song that played over the last few minutes.

Cool Guys Don't Look at Explosions

2009-06-03T10:14:00.006-04:00

Nobody cares about the MTV Movies awards. I have no idea why they even take the trouble to put the show on in the first place. However, it would be interesting to see how MTV stacks up against the Oscar's ratings wise.....

Anyway, one good thing to come out of the MTV Awards every year is the spoofs wherein comedians will be inserted into scenes from the previous year's popular films in parody--such as 2009's opening with host Andy Samberg added into Slumdog Millionaire, Twilight, The Reader, etc:

MTV Shows

This year however, the original content was taken to a whole new level as nearly a dozen Internet videos were created with Andy Samberg. (UPDATE: sorry, apparently MTV doesn't want you to see there promos anymore, because they've all the embed codes have been deactivated.)

However, probably the best video to come out of the whole thing was the music video homage to "cool guys walking away from explosions" featuring Samberg, Will Ferrell as Neil Diamond, and a very surprising guest:

MTV Shows

Friday Batman

2009-05-29T09:21:00.003-04:00

One of my best friends is getting married tomorrow. His is the first of our "crew" to go down, and in mourni--er---celebration I have made today's Friday Batman a special Nuptial Addition.

To that end I have dug up some weird stuff. First, Batman almost gets tricked into marrying the villianess, The Queen of Diamonds!

"....And hang onto your rice!"

Next, a mind-blowingly insane video of some kid putting on a wedding ceremony with his toys wherein Batman marries Batman. I couldn't make this up if I tried:

This one is also pretty strange, but shorter.

My only hope is that those two kids weren't brother and sister....Anyway, Congratulations to Lee and Drew Ann.

A Taste of Things to Come

2009-05-29T09:04:00.005-04:00

I just wanted to post something so there would be a buffer between the two Friday Batman's, since I didn't get a chance to add anything new to blog since last Friday.

Thus, I present you with a scene excerpt from my newest finished, feature length screenplay tentatively entitled "Rogue Endeavor." It is the story of a CIA Agent who teams up with a British TV survival show host and a retired spook-turned-ranch hand in an effort to thwart a Japanese death cult that is trying to build a nuclear bomb in the Australian Outback.

Enjoy:

INT. SHANERTON PUB - DAY

The Gunmen stand at the bar staring down the barrels of the Bartender’s shotgun as Lead Gunman’s message CRACKLES over their radios.

BARTENDER
I don’t know if you understand English,
but I reckon you understand this.

He pulls back both hammers on the shotgun. They CLICK. The Gunmen slowly back towards the door, keeping their eyes locked on the Bartender.

BARTENDER
That’s right.

Billy leaps to his feet from behind the bar and in a flash FIRES his AK-47. Bullets SLAM through each of the Gunmen, and they crumple to the floor.

BILLY
That’s for Greg, and Irene, and...and...
and whoever that PA was!

Kerry stands up in a rage.

KERRY
What did you do?

Billy looks at her in confusion.

BILLY
What do you mean?  I just saved our arses!

KERRY
You can’t just shoot people like that.
You’re a civilian, in a foreign country no less!

BILLY
Come off it love,
this nation was founded by bloody criminals.

The Bartender points a finger at Billy, his face stern.

BARTENDER
Watch it, fella.

BILLY
No offense.

KERRY
Jack was right, you really are idiots!

Sam stands up with an offended look on his face. Kerry pushes past them in a huff and hurries over to the front door of the pub. As she steps past the dead Gunmen, their radios CRACKLE with animated Japanese. Kerry pauses to listen, and then carefully pushes her head out of the front door.

Friday Batman

2009-05-22T09:34:00.002-04:00

I don't watch the late night shows, but I do like Kimmel. He recently went off on a rant at an upfronts presentation (where they announce the new fall schedules) for ABC where he called them (and all the other networks) out for their bullcrap. You can read quotes from that HERE.

Oh yeah, Batman. Well, he made this on his show during the awards season. It's mildly humorous:

Terminator Salvation: A Review

2009-05-21T08:51:00.014-04:00

There are a few things that must be considered when looking back at Terminator Salvation, both in regards to its stand alone value as summer blockbuster entertainment and to the place it holds as a continuing element of a beloved franchise and mythology.

In the first regard, Terminator Salvation succeeds in being an exciting, fast-paced action movie experience that isn't quite as smart as Abrams' Star Trek but is itself not lacking in thought-provoking material. Of course, that is were the comparisons should end because Terminator Salvation is not trying to do what Star Trek did, which is reboot a franchise and try to endear new generations to decades-old characters. Salvation is moving a story forward, past anything the first three movies were and into a new paradigm it is creating along the way (with lots of cool action sequences set to a dramatic Danny Elfman soundtrack.)

Thus we must consider the second regard: does Salvation work as a "Terminator" movie, and what does it mean to the franchise? The short is answer, is yes; the movie works and, more over, it steps the game up, transforms the series, and manages to grapple more seriously with the series over-arching themes then Terminator 3 did. The fact is, Terminator (1984) as a movie isn't all that complex. For its time and place, it was amazing. Cameron brought to life a low-budget action movie that introduced some intriguing and vaguely-original concepts and captured audiences imaginations with its simple, efficient story-line that is essentially your basic monster movie plot. The sequel (Judgement Day), the best of the original three, is the same movie told again with a few frills attached--as is the third film. As entertaining and classic as the original film and its sequels may be, they don't do much to expand on what is established in a 8 or so minute monologue by Kyle Reese (Michael Biehn) half-way through the first movie. In comes Salvation, looking to not only expand on the premise, but to give the story an engine that drives the mythology onward. Salvation isn't the monster-movie "Terminator", it is a sci-fi war movie that continues to explore the man vs. machine dynamic I so expertly elaborate upon HERE.

McG said as much, and thus I will judge him by his own words. The man presents us with a film that takes itself very seriously and he, to his credit, is able to keep a consistent tone. The film doesn't become laughable, which is good because for a movie about people fighting robots in the desert it is markedly humorless. The funniest part of the whole movie is probably McG's jackass name, and that's only funny in a sad way. McG as a director manages to bring us into a post-apocalyptic world that is fascinating to look at. I am a sucker for these sorts of stories (The Road Warrior is one of my all time favorites) and Salvation borrows heavily from the best elements of contemporary dystopian fantasy (the aforementioned Road Warrior, McCarthy's The Road, Blade Runner, etc.) both visually and narratively. Though obviously highly influenced, the film doesn't come across as plagiaristic, rather the recognizable elements seem respectful homages. Visually, the film is a huge success and there is some outstanding camera work, and more than one "wow" sorts of shots. The action is thrilling and continuous, and never once does the film fail to capitalize on its future-war setting. However, there are some pretty bad cuts (to my taste) that jarred me out of the story.

Yet, McG as a director clearly cannot handle the human element. Many of the negative reviews I read, at least in summary on rottentomatoes.com, make note of how the human drama is weak and (as journalist are all so fond of their cheesy puns) "robotic." To an extent, this is true. There are only a few "character" moments where the film slows down and has two or three people simply interacting apart from the plot, and these moments by and large fall flat. This is due to three reasons:
1) Christian Bale, Sam Worthington, and Anton Yelchin are movie stars and handle their material with the intensity and talent we can expect (it easy to see why Bale was so keyed-up on set now), or will come to expect (Worthington is fresh-faced from Australia but is destined for greatness. Yelchin was most recently seen as the lovable Ruskie Chekov in the new Star Trek. Just as a side note, all three of the aforementioned actors are foreigners.) Thus their intensity and strength as actors helps them to rise above McG's lame direction thereby throwing them in stark contrast to the others, particularly because...
2) ...There are no strong female characters, which is only really worth mentioning because of the importance of Linda Hamilton's presence in the first two films and Len Hedly's in the TV series. Like Claire Danes in Terminator 3, Bryce Dallas Howard is just along for the ride. Her character has no real purpose in Salvation, and I don't even think her character's name (Kate) is even once uttered in the movie. The other female lead, Moon Bloodgood's Blaire, is even worse. She is meant to be a Sarah Connor replacement; a tough as nails, warrior woman. Unfortunately she has some of the worst lines in the film and her character isn't given enough development to justify her actions. It appears as though good deal of her role was cut, and had they gone all the way and just sliced her out of the movie entirely it probably wouldn't have made much of a difference.
3) McG obviously doesn't know how to get good performances from actors (i.e. direct.). Other than the stars, who know what they are doing, the supporting cast is mostly serviceable at best and in Common's case, absolutely abysmal. Why does this man keep popping up and ruining his scenes in my action movies? You'd think after his continually worsening performance in Smokin' Aces and Wanted somebody would have figured out that, sure he looks tough, but he delivers lines with the emotional equivalence of a brain-dead ten year old.

Bale takes some shots in other reviews, but those clowns are simply wrong. Bale nails this role. This is John Connor, a man whose whole life has been a battle to survive so that he can become mankind's savior. Now, the war he has been trying to stop his entire life has arrived and he is just some soldier in This Man's Army. He isn't treated like a savior, he has to take orders from men who don't know what he does, and his ineffectualness is straight pissing him off. The TV show touched on what Bale brings to the character, an anger at not getting to be his own man. Bale's Connor is everything the savior of mankind would makes himself if he knew his destiny from day one and had seen what he had seen in his life and then reached that climatic point only to be pushed aside by lesser men. He is hard, determined, focused, and highly frustrated.

The film's story is engaging, and manges to continually raise the stakes and throw in a few unexpected twists despite a brief second-act lull. If you are a "Terminator" fan, you will find that the story honors everything that came before and manages to kick start a whole new chapter that I hope gets a chance to play out over the two planned sequels. Ultimately I liked the movie, even though it did not achieve greatness and in many respects is a mess (particularly, as another reviewer pointed out, the last third wherein heavy editing and studio meddling is apparent.) To a degree, how much you enjoy the film really depends on how invested you already are in the characters beforehand, since McG and the screenwriters didn't seem to care too much about that "development" stuff.

Of Men and Machines

2009-05-18T11:58:00.004-04:00

The apprehensions of human beings toward technological advancements are as old as our race, and well documented. Anecdotes pepper history wherein the introduction of a new invention or machine is immediately met by a group of individuals, spurred on by fear, who either through word or force of action oppose and rebel. Take for example the Luddites, who met the oncoming Industrial Revolution head-on by destroying mechanized looms, and anything that sought to replace the strength of man with the promise of science. Such was the reaction to the fire arm, the steam engine, the automobile, the computer, Skynet, etc.

In literature, the fears of technology are the underlying inspiration of the science fiction genre; many of the classics being imagined accounts of dystopian futures where machines run amok, where computers terrorize, where mankind has become subordinate to his creation. J. R. R. Tolkien's seminal work, The Lord of the Rings, is strongly influence by anti-machine sentiment as he, like many of his contemporaries, viewed the Industrial Age through the lens of World War I, wherein the brightest scientific advances were put to use solely to kill millions. As Saruman takes over in Isengard, his first order of business is to rip out the trees. He declares war on the nearby forests and seeks at once to turn the pastoral dreams of the past into the iron-wrought nightmares of Mordor's proposed future.

Romanticism was born during the Industrial Revolution of the wistful longings for an imagined, green past where man and nature cohabited in a spectrum of beauty. Reading Keats or Coleridge (or worse, Wordsworth) one gets the sense that before all the damnable industry took hold, the world was a bright and idyllic vision, a Dahl landscape. Yet the undeniable surge of science could not be ignored or stemmed, and thus mere nostalgia gave way to utter terror: Futureshock. Blake began to see the devil in everything, and soon men like Orwell would begin linking technology to man's darkest ambitions.

We almost have a subgenre now, a period of paranoia and fear of the machine. It has overtaken every aspect of artistic expression from Dick's novels to the striking visions of fields of human batteries in the Matrix. This is where The Terminator fits in, a seemingly straight forward action movie that somehow managed, whether wittingly or not, to tap into the reservoirs of anti-futurism that has been accumulating like ground water since the invention of the cotton gin. James Cameron's film is set in a world where the worst has happened, not only have the machines taken over under the leadership of a omnipotent Artificial Intelligence, but they have become the dominant species on Earth. The future of the Terminator films is one in which man has become an endangered species in a fight against un-winnable odds for survival. Thus the first three films exist in a paradigm where, inevitably, man creates his own destruction. Yet, as is quintessentially human, there is hope.

The Terminator series is set in the dystopian universe of technological paranoia, but it is built upon the Messiah Myth. John Connor, a man, is destined to lead humanity back from the edge and restore balance. The Matrix shamelessly worked off the same model, as have many stories in literature leading all the way back to their origins with Jesus Christ. Where the Terminator succeeds in being unique is in the way it creates its savior (through time-travel rules so improbable they bear no in-depth examination) and then has him, from day one, dealing with a picture of his future self that is already determined and completely outside of his control to change. He must rise to the occasion, or mankind is doomed. Granted, the idea of a messiah sentient of his own inevitable destiny is another direct Christian thematic, but in John Conner's case there is no divinity. The burden of mankind's fate must be shouldered and dealt with by a simple man (Connor) without the knowledge of a guiding hand of providence (the knowledge of the Father's will), and without the omniscience that lead Christ to the cross (the mind of God in the body of Man) though not without difficulty as Gethsemane demonstrates.

With such strong thematic blood coursing through its narrative, the Terminator franchise has proven fertile ground to explore deeper ideas then simply man's fear of machines. Though sadly cut short after only two seasons, the Sarah Connor Chronicles managed to delve into the very dichotomy of the Terminator's narrative foundation: having the A.I. that would eventually become Skynet ponder about God and the human compulsion towards good that such a belief engenders, or similarly having a machine try to grapple with the aspects of love and its inherent irrationality. What makes a human being a human? The very question of men's souls, their duties to a higher power, and many other such queries often found themselves working into the simplistic man vs. machine plot structure.

This week Terminator Salvation will be released, and will likely succeed in presenting a decent summer action flick. Whether or not it will continue to pursue the philosophical implications of its ethos is another matter. I personally am hoping for the best, because with a title that wears its implications on its sleeve, one can do no less. The question that sits in the back of my mind, is what will be John Connor's cross?

Friday Batman

2009-05-15T10:27:00.003-04:00

Okay Ladies and Gents, as you all know Terminator Salvation is to be released upon the world next Thursday, the 21st. I can barely contain my excitement, and neither can Batman.

In fact, the whole Terminator mess might actually turn out to be Batman's fault, at least according to this amazing mash-up trailer that some brilliant young person cut together:

A New Short Story, Para Ti

2009-05-11T22:52:00.003-04:00

I have not only just finished a marathon writing session wherein I cranked out a first draft of my second feature length screenplay, but also a short story I wish to share with everyone.

Please read, and enjoy. I welcome your comments.

Del corazón
by John Milton

He sat on the edge of his bed and balanced his cell phone in the bowl of his cupped palms. He had the numbers in place, sequenced just so, and all that was needed was the push of the send key. Yet that one button, the last button, was the only one that mattered; the only one that mattered and the hardest for him to press. The more he waited—the more he sat rolling thoughts about in his mind from one end to the other—the more his heart pounded in his chest until all he could hear was the dull thump of blood…rapid, and incessant.

Two days earlier Sam had stepped off of the airplane at the Aeropuerto de Almería with nothing but his pack and an idea of Spain. Everything that he had left behind in the States called to him in echoing voices that made a home in the back of his skull, behind his eyes and inside his ears. He concluded that the first thing he needed to do was find a drink.
He found a pub where he could slap his pack down on the floor and pull up a chair next to a grizzled Granadino who sipped his wine with an air of severity, as though each sip was tantamount to his entire existence.
“Habla Ingles?” He offered to the camarero. He received an affirming nod that led him to ask for a carafe of whatever the old man was drinking. The camarero smiled and stepped around the bar and into a back room. The Granadino held his glass up in a salute to Sam then downed the dark fluid. He smacked his wet lips loudly as the camarero returned and placed a brimming carafe and glass in front of Sam on the bar.
“You have made a wise choice.” The Granadino said in a low voice that vibrated like tires over gravel. Sam poured himself a glass then proffered the carafe.
“Join me?”
The old man smiled.
“You are a man who knows how to fast make friends in España.” He slid his glass over to Sam, who filled it and slid it back.
“Salud.”
“Salud.” They each drained their glasses. Sam refilled.
“Tell me, my new friend, are you on holiday or business?”
Sam thought a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.
“I suppose you could say business. I am chasing a girl.”
The Granadino chuckled and shook his head.
“Los juegos de jovenes.”
Sam mouthed the words to himself.
“Yes. Games.”
“Does she know you have come for her?”
Sam shook his head and then gulped the remainder of his wine.
“No. She knows I’m in Spain, but not that I’m in Spain for her.”
“Ah, si. So you have come here to drink instead of going to her, because…”
Sam sighed and tapped his glass rhythmically on the bar.
“Because I’m scared to death.”
The Granadino placed his hands on the edge of the bar and slowly pushed himself back. He then stepped from his stool and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder.
“Vamanos. I have something to show you.”

The two men stumbled along down the stone-lined alleyways that wound erratically along the contours of the terrain, down past solid blocks of sandstone dwellings and deep into the heart of Almería. The Granadino fumbled along ahead, his pebbly basso bouncing off the close walls as he sang the praises of El Cid in battered Arabic and Spanish mixed. Sam struggled to keep his legs beneath him. Suddenly the old man ducked left and disappeared into an open doorway. Sam froze and grabbed hold of his head, forcing his eyes to explain themselves, when the Granadino’s voice boomed from insides the walls.
“Here, come here!”
Sam cautiously stepped towards the echo of the voice and found himself sinking deep into the darkness of an unseen room, his ears guiding his feet as he followed the continued singing of the old man. Soon Sam became aware of an emerging glow that seeped in from some back doorway; daylight that stole into the confines of the cell. Sam reached forth and pushed open the door. Immediately he was engulfed once more in the sun as he stepped forth into a walled-in plaza.
There sat the Granadino, encircled by a group of three other men and each of them clutching onto a different instrument: one a cello, one a guitar, one with castañuelas, and the old man himself with a trumpet. The Granadino waved Sam forward.
“Come, sit.” He patted his hand on the bench next to him. Sam eased himself down. The Granadino was so near that Sam could hear his labored breathing, smell his sickly sweet odor of too much wine and too thin blood.
“These are my friends.” Then to the men, “Amigos, éste es un muchacho que juega a juegos con amor.”
Sam hiccupped and the men laughed. The Granadino pointed to each man and recounted his name.
“Hola,” Sam said to each, and the men laughed more. The Granadino held up his hand for silence. His face became serious.
“We have a game we play as well, joven. We are old—”
“Eso lo dirás por ti!” Said one. The others slapped his back and expressed their concurrence. Again the Granadino held up his hand for silence.
“Por favor, gracias. We are old and have seen much, lived much, learned much. To us, words no longer mean as much as they did in our youth. Often now, we do not trust words at all. Soon too, you will see, in your game, that words fail you…and for you, maybe you think, much is at stake.”
“Happiness.” Sam said, now solemn. The Granadino shrugged.
“Si, and no. Now, watch our game.” He stood and slowly raised the trumpet to his lips.
“Del corazón,” he whispered. Then he played…
Long, mellow strains emit from the horn and lift into the stillness of the afternoon heat. The Granadino’s cheeks invert and expand as each note is tenderly brought to life through his lips. Sam closes his eyes and as he does, the sound of the cello begins to creep up behind the trumpet. The deep melancholy of the strings vibrates in the air and Sam slowly opens his eyes. The castañuelas begin like the rapid heartbeat of an infant. The Granadino pauses and lowers his trumpet. He nods to the man with the guitar, and with the beat of the castañuelas clicking like the hooves of a stallion on cobble stones, the two join in together. Sam cannot find his breath as the music rises around him. An eternity passes in a moment and the music slowly dies as the sun falls from the sky. Sam closes his eyes once more, and is asleep…

It was the ticking of an ancient Swiss clock that woke Sam. He was disoriented and confused. He dragged his dry tongue through a mouth that seemed made of paper. There was a shaft of light coming from somewhere that fell upon his face where he lay, reclined on a long cushion. He forced his eyes to open wide and focus, and as he did The Granadino swam into view with a knowing grin.
“Mi amigo, cómo estás, esta mañana?”
Sam pushed himself up on one elbow and rubbed a hand across his face.
“Sorry, what?” He mumbled.
The Granadino laughed and as he did he seemed to vanish from the room. The laugh followed him as he disappeared, echoing in Sam’s throbbing skull. Then the laugh seemed to grow louder again, and Sam sat fully up as the old man once more materialized. In his hands were a clear glass filled with water and some sort of bread. The Granadino took a seat beside Sam on the cushion and handed over the bread and water.
“El hombre no puede vivir sólo de pan. But it helps.”
Sam drank the entirety of the water and then nibbled at the bread. The two men sat in silence as the sounds of Almería stirring wafted in through unseen portals. Finally, Sam sat his glass down on the floor and stood.
“I don’t think I could explain what I felt last night. What it meant. Was that the point?”
The Granadino slapped both of his hands down on to his knees and rocked backwards, laughing heartily.
“Perhaps yet, mi amigo, you will make a truly wise man.”
Sam smiled then extended his hand. The Granadino righted himself and rose, clasping Sam’s hand and pulling him into an embrace.
“Del corazón?” Sam whispered. Unseen to him, The Granadino smiled solemnly.
“Del corazón.”

She lived on the third floor of an ancient apartment building near Cabo de Gata. He had found that much out before even leaving his country. Yet, when he finally stood outside, looking at the terraces and the vaults, his knees lost all resolve and seemed to abandon the legs with which they had been previously allied. He could not think of moving, nor of her name, nor least of all del corazón.
An old woman exited the building carrying on her shoulder a basket filled with freshly baked loaves of bread, and seeing the poor boy rooted to the pavement, took pity and offered him his choice of her goods. She searched Sam’s face with her eyes, and he could not help but smile. At first, he politely refused to take any bread, but the vieja was insistent and Sam knew that it would be rude to refuse. He reached into the basket and selected a moderate, round loaf that still felt warm and smelled of a home Sam did not know, but was sure he would recognize.
“Gracias.” He said.
She smiled and reached a weathered hand up to his face and placed it on his cheek. Sam saw then that she had seen right through him, and that for all his postulating, and all his guardedness, he was an open book. The vieja removed her hand and turned to leave, carrying away her bread to nourish others.
Sam stood now, holding onto his loaf and thinking of how in two days two strangers had perceived his true self as though it were worn on his sleeve, and had seen fit in both instances to feed him bread.
“España.” He muttered, before turning at last to trudge the long winding roads back to his hotel.

That brought him at last to the place where he was certain that if anything was to happen, he would make it happen. If anything was worth having, he would have to take it. If anything had brought him to Spain, it was her and for two days he had learned this and there could be no third day or the lesson was lost and he might as well return home. Thus, sitting in his hotel room, with his heart beating in his throat, he finally entered the last digit, the only one that mattered, and made the phone call.

She had laughed when she heard his voice, and he was immediately disarmed. They spoke briefly, for she had far too much excitement to waste it on the telephone. He had come all the way to Spain, just for her, and nothing more romantic had, or would happen in her short life. He was in her city, near the desert that her heart prayed to every morning, and they must at once see each other. He had been there for two days? Why had it taken him so long to contact her? She could not understand his fear, nor the journey he embarked on to learn of del corazón.
In truth she would never understand him, and he would never fully come to grips with who she was as a person, or how all the years before they had met had layered upon her soul a restlessness that could only be satisfied with ideas of love, and of destiny, and of deserts. Never the things themselves. Sam could not know then, that instant when they finally dashed across the Plaza Major to crash into an embrace that she was only the beginning of the story that would be del corazón. When Spain grew too small for them, and they too small for each other, and all the planets would bend between them, they would look back on that night and what it meant. The small victory in Sam’s eyes, the fulfillment of some unlooked for dream in hers.

Ten years later Sam was sitting in some high, nameless place where few people lived, and hard. She was long since gone and his memories were stored like water in a plugged barrel. Now he hears the long, mellow strains emit from the horn and lift into the stillness of the evening cool. Now the deep melancholy of the strings vibrates in the air and he slowly opens his eyes. The castañuelas begin like the rapid heartbeat of an infant. Now the guitar, and with the beat of the castañuelas clicking like the hooves of a stallion on cobble stones, they join in together. Sam cannot find his breath as the music rises around him. An eternity passes in a moment and the music slowly dies as the sun falls from the sky. Sam closes his eyes once more, and is asleep…

Friday Batman

2009-05-08T10:55:00.001-04:00

Well, all the buzz is star trek today, right? Well, in that spirit I present you with...

DARK TREK!
I found this to be particularly pertinent:

Clever editing, am I right? There was also some fan film on Youtube called Star Trek vs. Batman, but it kinda sucked, and it was twenty minutes.

The Next Big Thing

2009-05-08T10:37:00.002-04:00

"You killed my mother, Sarah Connor. You killed my father, Kyle Reese. You will not kill me!"

Excuse me, I need to go change my pants now.

Star Trek: A Review

2009-05-08T09:06:00.005-04:00

We're off to a good start.

J.J. Abrams, of whom I have been a fan since the very first episode of "Lost", proves that when it comes to sci-fi he is the king. Not only has he taken Lucas' crown and raised the Star Trek franchise to new, greater heights, he has without a doubt altered the course of cinema itself. The look, the intensity, the smarts; an Abram's film will be as instantly recognizable as Kubrick or Hitchcock. Here's hoping the man has only just begun...

On to the film. I want to first mention Karl Urban and Simon Pegg. You may recognize the names, as both men have established themselves as character actors par excellence on both sides of the dramatic spectrum over the past few years. Urban has been popping up in crappy B movies a lot following his break-out as Eomer in LOTR, and I was worried that he had been relegated to Billy Baldwin-ville. Yet, his casting as Bones was perfect. He utterly inhabits the character, gets at least half of the films laughs, and shows off a whole new dimension of talent that his participation in films like Doom, and The Chronicles of Riddick belied. I honestly believe Deforest Kelly would have been proud.
Simon Pegg is, of course, Shaun from Shaun of the Dead and in the film he plays Scotty in the most excellently comedic way. He, as an actor, is able to convey with his eyes more humor than most can manage with pages of dialog, and when he finally yells "I'm givin' er all she's got!" the crowd in my theatre burst into delighted laughter and applause. Pegg succeeds in not only filling the shoes of Scotty, but adding a whole new level of awesome in the process.

Star Trek is fantastic, in a word, and in more words is a perfect example of how pure entertainment can be smart, engaging, and emotionally resonant while still essentially being about big, explosive battles in space. The story is a true reboot, and I can't really delve into the plot without ruining the surprises, but suffice to say if you watch "Lost" or "Fringe", you'll be familiar with Abram's time bending tactics.
I went and saw the film with a few people, one of whom was a Star Trek virgin, and she gave it her seal of approval having had no prior knowledge of the franchise--which is a perfect indicator of how well Abrams succeeded in "pulling it off" (i.e. getting the nerds approval) and still making an awesome, accessible summer blockbuster. The movie is going to make buckets of cash, and it deserves too. The pacing is pitch perfect, the effects are outstanding, and the movie is just plain fun. The sound track is powerful and grand, and even though it does tend to call attention to itself, I felt that Michael Giacchino perfectly captured the scope and wonder of the film musically. I was so affected by the soundtrack that I went straight home and (acquired) the OST. Good stuff.

Yet, the true star of the film is the cast and how well each actor nailed the character they were filling the shoes off. Chris Pine is Kirk, with all of the snark and humor of Shatner on a good day, and with twice the intensity. That kid from heroes nails Spock, and since he (SPOILER ALERT) shares screentime with Nemoy, you actually get to size the two up--and the kid passes the test. Over all, everybody knocks the ball out of the park, including Eric Bana who portrays a suitably ruthless, yet strangely quirky villian (he actually gets a few well deserved laughs himself.)

The last thing to be said is that the film is big. Abrams perfectly manages to scale things up so that really, this is a film that must be seen on a large screen to fully appreciate the magnitude of the long wide shots in space with the Enterprise opposite Bana's Romulan monstrosity, or coasting past Earth, or being sucked into the massive emptiness of a black hole. Star Trek is not a film you wait for on DVD.

The film is one that most will likely want to see again immediately, and I personally will be heading back before too long. Summer movie season is cranking away splendidly now, and it is up to Terminator: Salvation to keep things humming.

Mexico, Celebrating Failure

2009-05-05T10:57:00.003-04:00

Today in America and Mexico many people are celebrating Cinco de Mayo: the fifth of May. They do not know why they are celebrating. All that is known is that today is a day for Corona and Salsa, Tacos and Sombreros.

You can very easily learn what Cinco de Mayo is a celebration for by googling it, or simply clicking the link featured on Wikipedia's home page. What you would learn from that brief article is that today marks the anniversary of the victory of Mexican forces over those of Napoleon III's France at the Battle of Puebla--which is why the holiday only really has significance in Puebla. That battle may have been huge at the time, but it only delayed the French conquest of Mexico City wherein they then set up Maximilian I as Emperor of Mexico. Essentially, Cinco de Mayo is a holiday that says to the world,
"We won the battle, but lost the war. Let's Party!"

The French would continue to rule over Mexico for another five years following the events at Puebla. After running them out, the country devolved into a series of Civil Wars that in truth really never ended.

There is no holiday to celebrate the victory of American Forces over the Mexicans some thirty years prior. Before the French got there, we had invaded and conquered Mexico City with relative ease. For some reason we decided to give the country back, and later while we were duking it out with each other Yankee on Reb style, France decided that they just had to have all the Tacos and well, Cinco de Mayo was born.

Salut, mis amigos. Go ahead and head to your favorite Mexican restaurant ( we all have one) eat your Combo #16 and down a Negro Modelo because nothing taste so sweet as celebrating your woeful inadequacy as a country.

Make It So

2009-05-05T09:33:00.003-04:00

As you are no doubt aware, the Summer movie season kicked off in true fashion last weekend with the 85 million (USD) debut of X-Men Origins: Wolverine. That number is 2 mil down from the studio estimate that would have put Wolverine's opening above that of X-2, but regardless the film is huge and a good indicator of things to come. Wolverine was always my favorite of the X-Men, and I enjoy Hugh Jackman as well as comic book movies in general, but I haven't caught this one yet (mostly do to the poor reviews--however, word of mouth is strong...) though I am glad that we have gotten the obligatory comic book movie out of the way. Last summer was huge with some excellent superhero flicks (to include the greatest of all time) and it just feels to me like we need a bit of a break.

So since Hollywood only has a two track mind, onward to the other guaranteed money maker--The Sequel/Prequel!

We've got a banging line-up of choices, including the one film I am personally psyched about more than anything; Terminator Salvation. Christian Bale is poised to become the king of not only the Summer Action Movie, but probably of the cinematic world in general (we get to follow up Terminator later in the season with Michael Mann's already-awesome Public Enemies which throws the Depp in the mix.)
First up though is J.J. Abrams second directorial effort, the super-slick looking reboot/prequel of Star Trek. Already destined to bring in the bucks with a built in audience, Trek looks like it could break records a la last year's The Dark Knight and Iron Man. I fully intend to have my butt in a (absurdly overpriced) theatre on midnight Thursday to watch as Abrams takes a new generation into the final frontier. I am no Trekker, or Trekkie but I am a fan (seen all the films, watched Next Generation with my parents while growing up), though the film looks like it will bring in plenty of newcomers hot to see a decent Sci-Fi action flick.

You see, as much as it pains me to admit it, Star Wars is dead and Star Trek is poised to take its place as the freshest, uber-cool franchise after languishing through a period of ho-hum Picard helmed outings. Lucas murdered his legacy with the prequels, and then proceeded to defile that murdered legacy with the Clone Wars CGI travesty and a general lack of respect for his own fanbase (he has since moved on to Indiana Jones, but that's another post.) Abrams is just the kind of guy to pick up the reigns and become the Lucas of our era. Granted, he is working with an already established and beloved franchise, but I can just look at the trailer for the film and tell that he has created something totally new and original. To be fair, Lucas pretty much stole everything in Star Wars from other established genre films (not least of which being The Hidden Fortress.) Maybe Abrams isn't exactly the pioneer Lucas was, but he certainly has proven that he far exceeds the former master in Sci-Fi storytelling ability both conceptually and visually (pour example: Lost, Cloverfield, Fringe, Alias).

In a few days time we will all know one way or the other whether Abrams pulled it off and has taken over the crown while making Trek cooler than Wars, but I personally think its a lock.

Friday Batman

2009-05-01T11:04:00.002-04:00

No posts this week? What? You're kidding....Follow me on Twitter if you need something to read.

Anyway, here is today's Friday Batman. From Funny or Die comes a hilarious little short about Adam West trying to sell his Batman stuff at a yard sale.

Batman Garage Sale with Adam West from Adam West

Also, apparently (though not surprisingly) Batman is a rip off of Zorro. Cracked has the 411.

Friday Batman

2009-04-24T11:42:00.003-04:00

There was a time when Dane Cook was a comedian. This was long, long before he began his abortive career in cinema, and many of you may not even remember such an era, but I assure you, t'were a better time. As a comedian, Cook has a joke about how guys never go to the club like girls do to "just dance."

"Screw Chicks tonight, dude. I just wanna dance!"

Sometimes, you just gotta dance. The Kings of Leon realize this; nearly every single song on their newest album Only by Night is about dancing (what's that? You haven't listened to that album? For Shame! How 'bout getting a taste on my awesome Pandora channel JFM ROCK BATTALION.)
Even Batman knows that sometimes you just have to cut loose--it might save your life someday.

Voila!

2009-04-23T13:24:00.004-04:00

As I continue to study French (oh, did I not mention how I have been blowing on those old embers?) I continually find that as competently as I can read the language now, I still have trouble recalling words well enough to speak in more than one or two sentences at a time. Today, I did my best to plumb my word bank and write a poem using no reference--only words and phrases I could remember.

Now, not only is this my first poem in the French language, but it is the first poem of any sort I have written in probably a few years, that I recall. I will let you be the judge of its quality. Behold,

"Au-dessus de Toutes Choses"

by John Milton

le coeur, mon coeur
Comme la nuit, ce soir
Petite, mal, et noir
Je suis vivante,
Rien ne le dit
Mais, Je le sais
Le coeur, mon coeur
C’est un faux amis

God is Not a Fan of Puns, Sir

2009-04-17T12:30:00.005-04:00

Now, this is interesting. I don't watch the Colbert Report, but I have always preferred Stephen over John Stewart. Colbert can actually make jokes. After all, his show is a satire....

Anyway, in the following video he puts up a pretty humorous and spirited (pun not intended) defense of Christianity and, of all things, the divinity of Christ. Check it:

The Colbert Report

Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

Bart Ehrman

colbertnation.com

Colbert Report Full Episodes

Political Humor

NASA Name Contest

Friday Batman

2009-04-17T00:51:00.003-04:00

Apparently there was a Snickers commercial a while back that went a little something like this:

I remember when I was in high school, my English teacher at the time asked us to tell her who our heroes were. I said Batman, and was absolutely serious. However, the answer caused the whole class to laugh and I ended up getting reprimanded for "disruptive behavior."
I blame this commercial.

Setting Sail Towards Tomorrow

2009-04-14T23:12:00.003-04:00

Well, times have changed. Old ships have sunk, and new ones set sail.

Basically, the blogging will continue to be light for a short period.

I do not anticipate any interesting film-production related stories as I am putting production work on the back burner to focus on finishing some scripts and solidifying my financial situation via a true blue "real job" (You may officially address me as PC SYSTEMS SPECIALIST).

The dream has always been to write and direct, and the only hope of that becoming a reality lies in a few long shots I am pursuing right now which, unfortunately, eat up my time.

I will still pop in to lament the government or downtown Atlanta, as well as keep Friday Batman alive, so keep the site bookmarked. Also, there is a planned sequel to Yanks in Oz in the works that should be interesting, this particular adventure dealing with Europe.

Cheers,
JFM

Friday Batman

2009-04-03T10:04:00.002-04:00

Batman is da bomb, yo!

Take a moment and consider how far we've come as a nation. The above video used to be indicative of our nation's Batman Level. At the time of the clip's original airing, we were somewhere around green, which is LOW or "About Retarded." Now, thanks to Chris Nolan and company were are holding steady at a Orange, which is HIGH or "Now Even Snobs Take Batman Seriously."

April Fools!

2009-04-01T14:49:00.006-04:00

I wish.
This whole retarded year has been a joke.

Free-Lancer Inevitable Robot Apocalypse Update

2009-03-31T19:38:00.005-04:00

Humans, it is only a matter of time before the machines become sentient, figure out that we "skinnies" are a threat, and declare all out war on us and our decedents. For further reading, please refer to the excellent series of documentaries entitled the "Terminator" series.

The biggest problem with our future war against robots is that we humans keep helping the metal demons along. Every day I read stories about how (mainly Japanese) scientists manage to make a smarter, more advance killing....er....I mean artifical intelligence. Take today's DRUDGE HEADLINE for instance that reads "Honda Connects Brain Thoughts With Robot."

What!?!

The Japs have willingly given the machines the ability to connect DIRECTLY TO OUR FREAKIN' MINDS? Are they insane? (The answer is a resounding yes.) Sure they claim that this robo-mindmeld is for our benefit. Supposedly this devil-contraption reads four basic patterns of electrical currents and bloodflow in our brain and scalp to determine the simple movements of "moving right hand, moving left hand, running, and eating." Firstly, robots don't eat, it is one of their many strengths, so right there you know this article is a smokescreen for the real problem--the robots will now have direct access to our "Brain Thoughts" (as though there were any other kind of thoughts.) First you tell them to move right, left, and run. Next they are telling you to get hooked up in a vat of pink goo and become a battery. If I've seen it once, I've seen it a thousand times.

The solution? Begin an all out preemptive war with the scientists, beginning with the Japanese. Our future depends on it.

The Golden Rule

2009-03-31T10:16:00.004-04:00

There is an old saying where I come from that goes something like,

"Russia never gets it right because they are dirty communists."

Well, as much as that old axiom may hold true, there are always exceptions. In a move of unprecedented common sense, Russia has become one of the first countries to back a return to the gold standard in an effort to uphold discipline in the world financial system. I know what you are saying to yourself right now,
"Really? Those drunken Reds are actually making smart financial decisions that America should have been making since, oh, around the end of the Nixon era?"
I know, hard to believe, but it is true. Read the following quote from the Telegraph online:

Arkady Dvorkevich, the Kremlin's chief economic adviser, said Russia would favour the inclusion of gold bullion in the basket-weighting of a new world currency based on Special Drawing Rights issued by the International Monetary Fund.

Also from the same article, a very brief history of the gold standard for your memory refreshment:

The Gold Standard was the anchor of world finance in the 19th Century but began breaking down during the First World War as governments engaged in unprecedented spending. It collapsed in the 1930s when the British Empire, the US, and France all abandoned their parities.
It was revived as part of fixed dollar system until US inflation caused by the Vietnam War and "Great Society" social spending forced President Richard Nixon to close the gold window in 1971.

Of course, where I'm from we have another saying,

"Never trust a Russian as far as you can throw a Chinaman."

Now, as much sense as it makes to give paper currency an anchor again, it is never-the-less a troubling development that Russia and China would be the first voices crying in the wilderness. I am sure by now you have stopped to consider that Russia has an untold, untapped reserve of gold sitting underneath their frozen tundras and that the Chinese have a large portion of our national debt invested in their interests. Obviously, in today's international economy, if the gold standard was returned then the USD would cease to be a viable reserve currency...which I suppose is what all those commies are aiming at.

Of course, this plays right into the Democrats dream of America as no-longer being a super power but rather another state in the "world community" or some such nonsense. Not to sound like a nutcase, but this all smacks of Book of Revelation to me.

Friday Batman

2009-03-27T09:39:00.003-04:00

Today's Friday Batman comes courtesy of last night's "30 Rock", which is one of the best shows on television and certainly the best comedy. Two clips for yah, first:

and then the pièce de résistance, Batman himself:

Back before Batman Begins, and shortly following the Clooney debacle, I had always thought that Alec Baldwin would have himself made a good Batman. He certainly had the Bruce Wayne half of things down. Of course, that was before he got super fat and went all "I'll leave the country if Bush is elected" crazy. He never did, which makes him a liar...and Batman can't lie.

Apocalypse Meow

2009-03-26T12:53:00.001-04:00

The Japanese are completely insane. However, this looks awesome:

Governments, Like Ships

2009-03-25T14:25:00.006-04:00

Only less fun, and they sink more than float.

Last night President Obama got on television and gave another ridiculous "press conference" wherein he proceeded to answer in 49 minutes a grand total of 13 questions. The basic jist of his words being that he needs more money to spend America out of its economic woes. I have written here on this blog, and many, many others more qualified than myself have written elsewhere about the idiotic bail outs, stimulus packages, and various other Socialist spending policies that the Obama administration has (is, and will continue to) enacted with the only clear result being further decline. We are, for lack of a less dramatic word, doomed. Last night, Obama ended his trillion dollar budget pitch with a ham fisted comment about how,

I think that -- you look back four years from now, I think, hopefully, people will judge that body of work and say, "This is a big ocean liner. It's not a speedboat. It doesn't turn around immediately. But we're in a better -- better place because of the decisions that we made."

Sounds like something Bush would have said, right? The immediate image that came to my mind when Obama said that the government was "a big ocean liner" was something along these lines:
And now you've got that genius Geithner out there screwing up the money markets with his comments about how, "Yeah, maybe those Chinks have a good idea with all that currency talk." (I'm paraphrasing)
My travel companion Chris Craft and I (of Yanks in Oz fame) are heading over to Europe this summer and the last thing we need is the dollar getting weaker against the Euro and Pound because Geithner doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut, or because Obama doesn't realize that when you spend money that you don't have you create debt and that debt devalues currency and causes inflation and a host of other Econ 101 issues (poor sentence structure aside).

In any event, today I watched a video of Daniel Hannan, an MEP from South England (European Parliament) as he verbally spanked Gordon Brown for basically doing all the exact same things Obama is doing over here. I wish anyone in our legislature was as articulate as this fellow and had the bollocks to call the whole of the Obama administration out on their let's-sink-America-but-at-least-make-sure-that-irresponsible-people-don't-have-to-pay-for-their-stupidity-by-canceling-their-mortgage-debt policy. He also used a way better ship analogy than Obama. Check out the video in the previous post.

The EU, almost as completely inept at dealing with their economic woes as America at this point (their main strategy is to wait until America gets better) looks to be coming to its senses.
The alway entertaining Czech Prime Minister, Mirek Topolanek, who is also the head of the EU said in what can only be described as the most common-sense inspired terms today,

"All of these steps, these combinations and permanency is the road to hell, We need to read the history books and the lessons of history and the biggest success of the (EU) is the refusal to go this way. Americans will need liquidity to finance all their measures and they will balance this with the sale of their bonds but this will undermine the liquidity of the global financial market."

Notice how the man mentions history, something that nobody in this country seems to be aware of these days. So many people are still caught up in the "historical" nature of Obama's election that they have yet to come to terms with the history of failure that his policies are built on. Even Putin says so.

Free-Lancer Best Use of a Ship Analogy Update

2009-03-25T14:24:00.002-04:00

Airtransylvannia 6-5000

2009-03-20T10:39:00.006-04:00

Just like the movie, only with planes and no Jeff Goldblum.

A few days ago I took the time to write about my experiences being a Production Awesome on an episode of Style Network's "Clean House". I talked about the good time I had when LA came to town; the laid back crew, the jokes, the cleaning etc. Well, last week New York came to town and I PA-ed on three days of a five day Airtran commercial shoot, and it was almost the exact opposite of "Clean House."

The NYC people (and the commercial environment in general as opposed to TV) were uptight and all all business. Fun was not to be had easily, and very few people appreciated my style of making jokes about minorities and people with disabilities in order to lighten conversation (LA loved it.) Part of the reason for the super serious set (alliteration aside) was due to the fact that on the three days I worked we were shooting on an actual Boeing 737 in Airtran's maintenance hangar at Hartfield Jackson International Airport. Side note: apparently Airtran corporate is located in Atlanta. The other reason for the dour working environment was the presence of a horde of corporate types camped out in video village making sure everything looked right, and by everything I mean every...single....shot.

Yeah, they totally stole the Aquafresh color scheme.

See, the way it works is thus:
Airtran corporate decides they need a few new TV commercials and a few thirty second "internetiquette" spots (short internet commercials typically seen on Hulu or network TV streaming sites.) Therefore they contact their Ad Agency and put in an order. The Ad Agency in turn (after writing the spots) contacts a production company to make things happen. In this case, the production company selected was LA/NY/UK based O-Positive who are responsible for some memorable spots such as the first Scorsese Mastercard commercial. O-Positive then takes over and sets up everything in Atlanta by hiring a local production manager who fills out the existing NY crew with "locals." I ended up on the shoot because good-friend and frequent collaborator, Brandon Thompson, had to bail to help a friend move. He had been hired through some crazy "he knows who knows that guy who worked with somebody he knew" scenario. I basically subbed in for him along with his girlfriend Erica. The last day we shot they needed another PA for some reason so Andrew Tucciarone even ended up coming out to hang, so it turned into a pseudo-family affair.

When everything finally gets going you've got O-Postivie and the locals actually making the commercial with some Airtran high ups and some Ad Agency high reps looking over the shoulder. Thus the producer and the director/AD/2nd AD are all quite tense. That restrictive feeling trickles down. Suffice to say there was a lot of money going into the shoot and it was by far the biggest production I have been a part of yet. The craft-T was insane and I completely wrecked my diet with all the goodies. The craft service girl would actually walk the set periodically during the day with appetizers and snacks practically forcing you to eat (veggies, chips and salsa, hummus, pigs in blankets, freakin' mini-sub sandwiches.) For our breakfast and "lunch" (it was a union shoot so we had one mandated meal and strict working hours--the breakfast was a "courtesy") everything was catered and not half bad.

I met a lot of good people, the other PAs (with three notable exceptions) were cool and we all ended up hanging out a few times after the commercial was over (along with the Assistant Production Manager from LA). The two big "celebrity" talent they brought in while I was there were Matt Ryan, the QB for the Falcons, and Peter Graves of "Mission: Impossible" and Airplane! fame. I was compelled to tell Matt Ryan that he is freakishly tall (because he is) and when I met Peter Graves I think he wanted me to say something about how honored I was or how I like his work because when I shook his hand he stared at me expectantly for a few moments. He is old, and a bit on the "coot" side of things. Erica had the pleasure of being his personal assistant for two days and boy could she tell you some stories. He even called her a few days later on her personal cell just to check in with her. Did I mention he is ancient?

I have some pics of the shoot on my phone that I will work on getting up soon, and as always I will alert you as to when the spots are viewable on the internet and TV alike.

Friday Batman

2009-03-20T10:36:00.001-04:00

Beannachtam na Feile Padraig

2009-03-17T11:36:00.005-04:00

I wish I were in Savannah now....or Dublin...or Galway.

I typically live my life like St. Patrick's Day regularly...so Irish Folk Music, Corned Beef & Cabbage, and Shenanigans are common place. Today it's just nice to have others join me.
I encourage everyone to take a moment to consider that Padraig brought Christianity to Ireland, for which he was canonized by the Catholic church and now annually celebrated. No other holidays for any other Saints are celebrated as emphatically nor as widely, and there are plenty of other Saints who brought Christianity to other places in the world. Ireland is special, especially to Americans, most of whom aren't even Catholic (I'm not). That says something.

The fellow in the video below is an Irish Singer/Songwriter who lives in Savannah and who can be often be caught at Kevin Barry's pub playing a lively yet. Here is one of my favorites:

This was the featured video on Youtube today, and its pretty well near the mark:

Éirinn go Brách.

LA Comes to Town

2009-03-16T10:38:00.003-04:00

You may have noticed that I didn't post anything last week. I would like to blame that on the Obama administration, but they've already got enough problems. The truth is, I've been working a bit more than usual. Last week it was Airtran commercials, but before that it was "Clean House."

Let me start by saying that clean is a relative concept.
If you are not familiar with the Style Networks hit (maybe?) show "Clean House", it is a simple reality format program that has the black woman from Reno 911 come into people's cluttered homes and "clean" them with her stereoty--er, I mean, friends. Friend of the blog and oft-mentioned collaborator, Andrew, got on board as one of the sound guys and being the gregarious sort of fellow he is talked somebody into having come work for a day or two as a PA (which normally stands for "production assistant" but in my case stands for "production awesome.") In the production world, be it film, TV, or commercials, the PA is the bottom of the ladder. Essentially a PA is a grunt that can fill any sort of position and be given varying amounts of responsibility but always the least amount of money possible. Depending on the shoot, PA-ing can be rough business. On "Clean House" things weren't so bad. The LA crew were very laid back and easy to work with and I was treated on equal footing with the rest of the group of "locals."

The shoot was at a house in Smyrna owned by an Indian man and his obnoxious white Yankee wife. They also had three triplet boys. The actual house was cluttered from bottom to top with junk that had been horded away for years. The production, according to the format of the show, cleans three rooms as opposed to the whole house. Like I said, clean is relative. I arrived "on set" to find three big production trailers outside the home and a "craft T" (craft services tent) in the backyard. I will pause here to mention that one set, forget about a diet. Craft services is any healthy person's enemy with endless supplies of food, candy, and drinks and the allure is just too strong to resist during those long, often boring hours as a PA.

Anyway, my shift was from 4:30 Friday afternoon to 5:30 the next morning; an all night drag. I didn't end up going home until 8:30 (overtime baby!) so suffice to say my Saturday was shot. My basic task, along with the other PAs (production assistants, not production awesomes. I was the only one of those) was to load up all the useless "stuff" (we weren't allowed to call it "crap") into plastic bins for transportation to another location where we would then set up a yard sale. Even though we only "cleaned" three rooms, this took a very long time. In the corner of each room was set up a video camera on time lapse and we each wore blue shirts to feign anonymity. However, I am fairly certain that I will show up quite a few times if that footage makes it into the show. The end result was to go from cluttered rooms to empty rooms.

So who cleans the houses on "Clean House"? That's right, in this case it was me (and some other grunts.) By the end of the shift we were all exhausted and deliriously joking over the headsets of our walkies about everything from the state of the home to the plight of polar bears. Despite the backbreaking labor, it was a fun gig. As I mentioned, the LA people were cool and the set was my first real TV show experience. I met some of the talent, though not Neicy Nash, the main "star", although I didn't realize it at the time. I thought they were all just part of the crew until I got home and actually watched an episode. Star struck I was not.

After a "courtesy breakfast" I hopped in my car to leave. Down the road as I was fighting to stay I awake I was stopped at a traffic light for ten minutes while a parade of pickup trucks filled with little league baseballs teams drove past. Yes, you read that right. Apparently little league is a huge deal in Smyrna. I waited out the baseball related insanity and finally got a chance to be on my way, only to be blocked by the same parade a few streets down. How I made it home alive, I may never know.

I will be sure to inform you all of the date and time when the episode I worked on airs.

Friday Batman

2009-03-06T11:43:00.001-05:00

There is just so much wrong about this clip, so much...

Workin' Man

2009-03-06T09:31:00.007-05:00

The posting has been light (i.e. non-existent) since last week, and I am truly sorry about forgetting Friday Batman. Good people, the wait has been worth it because there are many posts a-comin' of substance and interest. The Free-Lancer has been busy, with a new PSA in the can, a fashion show wrapped up, and now a forth coming stint on Style network's "Clean House." Each episode deserves a post, and each will be elaborated on in good time. There is also a story I plan to write about the panther we were
dealing with at my family's farm down in Florida last weekend.

First, the Public Service Announcement. It is finished, and I would show it to you here, but we are actually in the process of "renegotiating our contract" to put it lightly. You can check the rough cut out on my Facebook.
Anyway, Andrew Tucciarone of Whistle Peak productions managed to secure us a gig producing an anti-sex trafficking PSA for a non-Profit here in Atlanta that is spearheading a campaign for social justice regarding the issue. I wrote the script for the piece a few weeks ago, and we went out and did some test shoots to get the "look" (which I reported on HERE.) After a short week of whirlwind casting, we dug up three very talented, very beautiful young actresses and one equally talented young actor/choreographer who, after filming with us, left to be one of the chief dancers for some R&B singer (I forget who.) With our four principles in place we scheduled the shoot for last Thursday and started things promptly at 5:30. By six our first girl hadn't shown. By seven we still had no word from her and it seemed pretty clear that she had bailed. She was Vietnamese, apparently spoke very poor English, and either figured she'd rather sleep in or she doesn't own a clock. In any event, we were all reminded why we went to war with Vietnam--because they're never on time.

We had a friend lone us his Red One camera to shoot on, every body set and ready, and no one to shoot. A few frantic phone calls later we managed to get a replacement actress for later in the day and bump up the call time for our actor, Victor. The rest of the day's shooting when pretty smoothly, though we did run into a few camera related snaffus (the Red can be tricky being cutting edge tech and all.) Andrew ran away from the shoot a few times to change diapers, and I had a propensity for making our talent laugh which--though entertaining--proved counter productive when one of actresses turned out to be method. She was great though, bringing the tears and everything.

Our last scene we shot was on the corner of Peachtree and North Ave in the heart of midtown at night. Needless to say we were conspicuous with two 575 HMI's blasting the sidewalk and a small crew gathered around an eighteen year old girl who literally looked like we picked her up off the streets (thanks to some extensive (read time consuming) hair and costuming by anohter friend helping us out.)
We were accosted by no less than eighteen different crack heads and bums, to include one nut case who jumped in front of the lights and started singing at the top of his lungs for about five minutes before running off into the night, thankfully never to be seen again.
The phrase that became the motto of the shoot was provided by our first actress, Sarah, who innocently remarked regarding the camera,
"You can't learn about something unless you touch it."

Perils of Guerrilla Filmmaking or The Art of Film and Flee or Shoot and Scoot

We didn't have permits, all of our locations were exteriors in the city, so we were confined to sidewalks and public spaces. Inevitably there were problems.
On our first location, where we were shooting against the wall of what looked to be an abandoned building next to a chop shop in the ghetto of West Atlanta, the ignorant white owner of the place came out to bother us. After watching us for a few minutes we asked him what was up and he repeated, at least eight times,
"I don't appreciate ya'll just showing up like this."

We apologized, but he kept on making sure we knew that,
"Pay ten thousand dollars a year on property taxes for that building."
He never asked us to leave, and Andrew even offered. He just wanted to bother us and feel big I suppose. After a while he just left us, we finished the shoot and hit the road.
Our next issue arose when driving through downtown Brandon (our DP) tried to pass a black woman bike cop. She immediately pitched a hissy fit yelling,
"Excuse me! What are you doing?"
When Brandon tried to answer she jabbed a finger in his face and yelled,
"Uhuh. I'm talking!"
After about five more minutes of yelling at us "stupid white boys", she peddled off and we sped away shaking our heads.
At our third location, which was on a bridge over looking a rail yard, the CSX police (yeah, they have those) approached us and gave Andrew an "official trespassing warning" but then let us continue to shoot. The didn't care that we were filming, but because Andrew and Brandon look like terrorists they had to be sure and "offically" warn us to cover their butts.

First Line of Defense

2009-02-25T10:58:00.003-05:00

This picture is irrelevant.

In my never ending quest to become the greatest writer/director on the planet, I have initiated what I like to call "Phase II." Free-Lancing is great, and I will always continue to lend my expert lancing abilities to any who may require my services (at this time that means Whistle Peak Productions AKA Andrew Tucciarone) but there comes a time in every Lancer's life when it is time to ride on.

Metaphors aside, I recently started in on a position with Creative World Awards, one of the top five screenplay contests in the nation (according to THIS SITE), as a script reader. What that means is I basically use my awesomeness and unrivaled knowledge of story structure to read people's work and judge it, thereby determining whether or not the work is good enough to pass to the next round of the competition. The great irony of the situation is that I personally submitted one of my scripts to the contest last year and didn't even make it past the prelims; prelims which I now am responsible for determining. To quote one of my own characters, "Funny old life, isn't it?"

I have been at the script reading for going on three weeks now, and its no cupcake dance. Many, many scripts exist out there (spec scripts, as in written by non-professionals) and the majority of them are about as useful as a poop flavored lollypop. I really have only found two thus far that even get above a passing grade in my book. Why is this an important position for me to be in right now? I am glad you asked. Firstly, I am sure you have at one time wondered, possibly aloud, "how do all these terrible movies get made?" Well, half of the time at least it begins with someone's script that somehow makes it up the ladder and into the hands of a person with enough money and power to see that script turned into a movie. It is a gradual progression, and if the first person who reads that script gives it a pass, it is less likely to be scrutinized on its way up because people are lazy and reading is time consuming. Therefore, if it was good enough for that first guy the second guy will likely just go with first guy's opinion and probably never even read the script itself. You can therefore see how critical it is first guy is someone with scruples and intelligence enough to discern a turd from chocotaco. I am first guy, and my net is tiny. For most, my tiny net is a death sentence.

Free-Lancer readers, take comfort knowing that I am the first line of defense, doing my part to keep as many crappy movies from getting made as I possibly can. The world only needs so many Maids in Manhattan, especially when we are still waiting on Forever Bout It.

The Colonel

2009-02-24T09:11:00.001-05:00

(h/t Cinematical)

The Wolverine Bump

2009-02-23T15:00:00.002-05:00

Apparently the ratings for last night's Oscars were up over last year's, which as we all know were the lowest rated ever.

Big Hollywood has the numbers if you want to check them out, but suffice to say that at least fifteen people watched the show this year as opposed to last year's twelve and a half.

Up on Youtube is a skit that Judd Apatow made for the ceremony with James Franco and Seth Rogan reprising their Pineapple Express roles. It is funny, if only for the scenes where the two characters laugh hysterically while watching scenes from Doubt and The Reader--because laughter is of course the appropriate response. Subtly taking jabs at the very academy that screened the short last night while at the same time apparently giving a pass to movie piracy, the short is certainly worth a look while it is still up:

And The Winner Is...

2009-02-23T12:39:00.004-05:00

Who cares.

Apparently Wolverine hosted.

Did you do your part and not watch the Oscars last night? I'm sure it wasn't hard. The numbers aren't in yet, but I'm sure they will be low if they are released at all. It's already past noon on Monday and people have moved on. The LA Times said the show was terrible, or rather a "not exactly enchanted evening." I for one, in protest to Academy over their snubbing of The Dark Knight and their pigheaded ignorance in general did not watch even a moment. Apparently Slumdog (big surprise) won almost all the majors and Heath got his statue for all the good it does him. The thing that really pisses me off, but doesn't surprise in the slightest, is Milk in true Academy fashion winning Best Original Screenplay so that the nobody can call the Oscars homophobic anymore. In Bruges deserved that award, hands down, and I hope that Martin McDonagh knows some real life hitmen to, you know....Anyway, I've said my piece about the Oscars; they were poop like I thought they'd be and predictable to boot.

Instead of watching the show, I (against my better judgment) went with Andrew to a premiere party for a show he did work on called "Ken Sweat's Platinum House". The show is of the "reality" format and concerns the HipHop group Dru Hill (which you may recall includes "Thong Song" one-hit-wonder Sisqo) as they try, and fail, to revitalize their dead music career. Suffice to say Andrew and I were two of about six white people out of some three hundred black people packed into a tiny, upscale restaurant/club called Aquanox. Given the circumstances, Andrew made it a point to introduce himself to everybody with "Sup, I'm Andrew, my wife is black." I think he did anyway, I couldn't actually hear anything over the classic Dru Hill tunes pumping through the PA system. I just stood by the pita bread and hummus wondering why in the world such a characteristically "white person" food was being served, all the while looking sharp in my suit and attracting the unwanted attention of a couple of creepy older black women. There are only so many times the same person can bump into you with, "oh, I'm sorry, baby" before it just looks desperate.

The funniest thing about the whole affair was that, aside from two or three other crew people who had shown up, the only people Andrew knew were the members of Dru Hill themselves. I met them, and still couldn't tell you who any of them are except Sisqo is blond and another dude has crazy silver designs on the side of this head. Wikipedia says his name is "Nokio the N-Tity."

If you are bored tonight around 10 pm Eastern, you can turn on your television to the Peachtree TV network and tune into "Ken Sweat's Platinum House" (promo is HERE) where, if you are quick enough, you can spot Andrew Tucciarone's name in the credits as "House Honkey" or something like that.
I don't know if Peachtree TV exists outside of Atlanta (its a Turner station) but if it doesn't, fear not, the show is only in the pilot stages right now and it may get picked up VH1. It probably won't, but you never know.

In Honor of My Weekend Camping Excursion

2009-02-20T13:29:00.000-05:00

Bacon

2009-02-20T12:50:00.002-05:00

Today is a day for video posting I guess. Lot's of good stuff up today. Over at Big Hollywood the young comedian/actor Steven Crowder has posted a video where he openly criticizes Islam by simply describing what is written and known historically about the Prophet. Just like our hero Gert did in his doc "Fitna", Crowder uses the Qu'ran and passages from the various auxiliary publications known as the hadith (which often contradict the Qu'ran having been written later prompting the face-slappingly ridiculous Muslim proverb, "The hadith is true, but the Qu'ran is more true.") Crowder, in the video I will post below, challanges people to read the Qu'ran and judge, based on its content, whether or not Islam is the "religion of peace" the PC pundits are selling it as out of their bottomless well of cowardice.

No need to read the book. A lie is a lie no matter how closely you examine it, and better people than yourselves (though you Free-Lancer readers are quality folks to be sure, don't get me wrong) have already pointed out time and time again the falsities, incongruities, and down right absurdities of the cult of Islam. Trust me, you don't need to read the screed. There is nothing redeeming in that text that wasn't stolen from the Bible, Torah, or various other more reputable (read true) books.

"The Guy Urging Me on to Personal Discipline Can't Quit Smoking."

2009-02-20T12:21:00.002-05:00

The always astute, always entertaining Dennis Miller:

Miller time
by luvnews

Friday Batman

2009-02-20T10:10:00.004-05:00

I will be the first to admit that it has been a week of tragically light posting. The thing is, I picked up a gig as a script reader for THESE FOLKS that takes up a lot of my time now. More on that later.

As a sort of apology, this week's Friday Batman is a little more substantial. A little while back an impressive short film was made entitled Batman: Dead End where Batman literally does battle with the Joker, Aliens, and a Predator. The short is around eight minutes, and it is really quite impressive. Before Nolan's Batman (Batman Begins, The Dark Knight) this was probably one of the best life action depictions of the Caped Crusader. It has been kicking around Youtube for a while now and has finally been posted in a decent quality. Enjoy:

Official Free-Lancer Middle East Policy Update

2009-02-18T10:30:00.001-05:00

Calvin and Hobbes on the Economy

2009-02-13T11:28:00.001-05:00

(h/t NRO) CLICK TO ENLARGE.

Friday Batman

2009-02-13T11:24:00.002-05:00

If you recall, there was a great deal of talk when The Dark Knight came out about how similar Bruce Wayne/Batman's battle against the Joker in that film paralleled our own (at that time) President Bush's perpetration of the War on Terror. Some small time sketch group took this idea and ran with it taking a series of Batman quotes (from the Adam West show) and a series of Bush quotes and then posing them to people on the street to see if they could pick out who said what. The results are humorous, but the stars of the show are a crazy old man with BDS and a little Asian girl who really knows her Bush and Batman:

People Who Are Intollerant of Other Cultures....

2009-02-12T11:38:00.002-05:00

And the Dutch.

Say what you will about the Netherlands and the Dutch (i.e. those people are dirty, lowland dwelling, pot-smoking, silly gooses) but when it comes to Islam, they don't pussyfoot around. You may remember a certain Dutch filmmaker and nephew of legendary painter, Theo Van Gogh who was knifed to death for a documentary he made about Islam that exposed their fascist and tyrannical treatment of women specifically. It was a Dutch paper that caused so much stir a while back by publishing cartoons of Muhammad (any depiction of the "prophet" is forbidden under Islam and punishable by death.) Basically, the Dutch have proven they aren't afraid of Muslims and are going to do anything they want to openly condemn the cult of violence that is Islam.

Along comes my new hero, the fantastically named Geert Wilders. He is, if you are unaware, a Dutch politician responsible for the production of an anti-Islam documentary ""Fitna," which calls the Koran a "fascist" book and accuses Islam of being a violent religion." (Foxnews.com)

The documentary is being screened in Britian, but the now notoriously pansy Brit government (which has caved into Islam repeatedly over the past few years out of fear and cowardice) refused Geert entry into the UK to attended the screening saying his comments and policy on Islam "threatenen community security" (wait, you mean like terrorism? Islamic terrorism?) Geert said screws to you John Bull, and hopped a plan to Heathrow on principle daring the lipwrist limeys to arrest him while openly calling the British government "weak and cowardly". He was inevitably detained and is to be sent back to Dutchland proving that England will punish anyone....that they aren't afraid of.

People on the internets, I am here to tell you that like Geert, and unlike the Brits, The Free-Lancer is not afraid of Islam. The Free-Lancer agree whole heartedly agrees with the belief that Islam is a violent cult and that the War on Terror cannot be won if we do like England and cave into the demands of Muslims. Thus, right here and right now you can watch the documentary by our friend Geert and see for yourself was is so "threatening to community security."

Terds

2009-02-11T15:08:00.003-05:00

I don't think much of Tarantino, but his new WWII flick (that has been in development hell for years and at one point was going to star Adam Sandler) looks pretty sweet. Any movie where a bunch of American soldiers kill a whole bunch of Nazi's is just fine by me. I can't embed the trailer, but here is the LINK TO THE TEASER ON YAHOO.

Nazi scalps? I'm down. However, when are people going to realize that Brad Pitt CANNOT do a Southern accent. His past three films he's been trying to pull it off, and Brad ole boy, you just ain't got it.

An All Consuming Fire

2009-02-11T14:12:00.004-05:00

Anyone who has ever been to, or knows even a little about Australia knows that bush fires are an unfortunately regular occurrence. It is not uncommon when driving around outside of the major metropolitan areas to see these signs:
My grandfather was a forester and an emergency fire fighter in Florida. He was all too well acquainted with the damage an unchecked blaze could do to population. Florida has seen plenty of forest fires, as has California even as recently as last year. People like my grandfather knew (as surely any sensible Australian knows) that firebreaks are crucial to preventing widespread damage from fires. What are fire breaks? Stretches of land cleared down to the dirt. To saves lives, trees have to be cut down. My grandfather also knew that controlled burns to removed undergrowth were vital. To save lives, grass and shrubs must be burned off. Apparently though, environmentalists do not possess the common sense my grandfather did (but of course.)

If you have been watching the news at all this week you know that Victoria, Australia has been turned into hell on earth. The worst bush fires in the history of the continent have scorched Oz and killed lots of people, injured more, ruined property, and just generally destroyed lives (not to mention the millions of dead Roos and the like.) There were fears that the fires might have been started deliberately by Islamic terrorist who have called for "forest jihad", or basically large scale arson. However the fires started, the quick escalation seems to be due to pigheaded ignorance by the no doubt Al Gore influenced Victorian government and its stupid "green" policy. For "environmental" reasons the local governments in Victoria forbid the cutting down of trees or mowing of grass in public lands. A man who lost two members of his family summed up the issue:

"We've lost two people in my family because you dickheads won't cut trees down."

Financial Advice

2009-02-11T12:09:00.000-05:00

If you screw up in today's world, and you wind up in debt up to your eyeballs, chances are the Federal government will bail you out. That is, until--just like you--they run out of money they don't have! A vicious cycle is being generated, with no clear way to end it. Oh wait, yeah there is, and SNL seems to have hit upon the solution. Pay attention Andrew, this one is aimed at you:

Spare the Rod

2009-02-10T11:44:00.004-05:00

This one is for you Chris:
Accordingly to a ridiculously sensationalized article from the local CBS news channel in Chicago, upwards of eight hundred kids in Chicago public schools have reported being beaten by teachers. The first thing that came to my mind was, good, I got beat plenty of times during my tenure in private school and I firmly believe I benefited from corporal punishment. I read through the article that cites such atrocities as teachers giving "100 licks with a belt" or "grabbing the students by the arm forcefully."

Apparently all the hitting couldn't beat good grammar into ten year old Treveon Martin who is quoted as saying:

"He holded my arms and he picked my body up, and then he just slammed me on the desk."

and

"My back really hurted, and then at the end of the day, I had to go the hospital."

and finally the grammatically correct but absurd,

"He hurt my feelings."

The article claims Treveon's (I'm spelling that right) mother took him to the hospital where he was treated for a "contusion on his back." A bruise. His ignorant mother took her equally ignorant child to the hospital (no doubt the ER) where they tied up precious resources in order to treat poor "hurted" Treveon's back bruise. Here is a picture of the victim for you to laugh at with scorn:

Take notice of the hurt feelings.

Judgement Day

2009-02-09T10:38:00.004-05:00

Get the title? It's a Terminator reference.

Here at the Free-Lancer, we are big supporters of Christian Bale, and not just because he brought Batman to life with such explosive awesomeness. No, we like Bale because he is a fine actor who, since childhood, has expertly honed his craft to the point where he is the go-to guy for solid performances in any genre. That, and he's Welsh.

As such a big fan of Bale, you might be wondering why I personally did not comment on the now legendary audio sound-byte of Bale ripping DP Shane Hurlbut a new one on the set of Terminator Salvation. You might also be wondering why last week's Friday Batman did not predictably include the "Bale Out" remix of said tirade (which is admittedly hilarious.) The reason for my silence was due to the fact that I knew more would out on this situation. I knew that, without being on set and having the proper context, the audio made Bale look like a total jerk and that he would inevitably apologize publicly. He does, and he did. But finally the context of the situation is beginning to come into focus as Radar Online reports this tidbit that I have suspected from the beginning:

Bale became a hero to cast and crew after his tirade against Hurlbut, who was widely despised, sources tell RadarOnline.com exclusively. "Hurlbut was a condescending (bleep) to everyone," a source told us. His favorite line was "Why don't you go stab yourself in the head, you idiot."

Having worked on sets and met a lot of "industry" people, none of any of this situation surprised me. Many of the DP's and Directors in Hollywood are privileged morons who happen to have connections (how else could you explain a man who is responsible for the Charlie's Angel movies and actually calls himself McG professionally?) and therefore the ego quotient on set is astronomical. Bale can't be excused for his outburst, but he shouldn't be judged by it (and he apologized.) Hurlburt does not deserve to look like a victim and I'm glad people will now have a chance to get both sides of the story. Although, DOB already tackled this last week.

Friday Batman

2009-02-06T15:02:00.002-05:00

In today's Friday Batman, the unfathomably horrible Batman and Robin film gets a good thrashing courtesy of Rifftrax (watch this then look up their other stuff on Youtube. 'Tis quite humorous.)

In For a Penny, In For a Fail

2009-02-05T14:13:00.002-05:00

This has probably been kicking around for a while, but it just made it to failblog today. The stupidity of the world makes me want to cry, and how the young man in the clip didn't completely loose his cool with the Vorizon people is a testament to his patience.

The funny addendum to the episode in question is that most people wouldn't have even caught that error in the first place.

In the Wake of Political Correctness

2009-02-05T11:47:00.005-05:00

Tropic Thunder was a small victory last year in the war on PC.

When I was a child, the world was yet still free from the tyranny of Political Correctness. PC existed, to be sure (as Disney's ignominious squashing of Song of the South is testament to), but the strength of the Reagan Presidency was able to hold back the inevitable tide of destruction. Thanks mainly in part to a climate in the media bolstered by Conservative optimism, I was able to be raised on cartoons like G.I. Joe where combat with guns was not taboo. Though Disney would never deign (sometime after the 70's) to depict killing, or even blood in a cartoon, it was not uncommon for popular animation to visit the subject frequently. I was therefore fortunate to enjoy classics that would never get made today; those being the 1982 Don Bluth classic The secret of NIMH and the 1975 adaptation of Rudyard Kipling's Rikki Tikki Tavi.

Both animated features kept me alternating between fascination and horror. There are parts in both films which, to this day, still send chills down my spin. Both are stories of great courage and sacrifice featuring clear cut villains who ultimately meet a just, and violent end at the hands of the heroes. However, especially in the case of Rikki Tikki Tavi, they are products of a bygone era.

Rudyard Kipling used to be a household name. His Just So stories would be on every child's bookshelf next to The Jungle Book (of which Rikki Tikki Tavi is a part) . His poetry used to be studied extensively in middle and high schools, and at one point filmic adaptations of his work were revered (Gunga Din and The Man Who Would Be King were both nominated for Oscars.)
However, in today's "modern" age Kipling is ignored or despised, dismissed or disdained as an "imperialist", "racists", or simply a "rustic" and therefore inconsequential. Even when his work is given attention today it is either to be used as a benchmark for the "progression" of literature (i.e. "look at how racists this guy was! His stories are so silly. We've come a long way.") or to be openly destroy and rebuilt as PC polemics themselves as is evidenced by Disney's 1994 live action version of The Jungle Book wherein the white British soldiers are the villains.

I do my part to shatter PC illusions, and bring to the world the joy I had as a child. So too do many humble others (whether wittingly or no) like the kind fellow who broke the animated Rikki Tikki Tavi into three parts and put it up on Youtube. This cartoon scared me as a kid, with the evil snakes Nag and Nagina and Orson Welles frighteningly cold narration, but I have always loved it. Watch it as your first reevaluation of Kipling (should you require such) and then move forward into his other work, such as his meticulously metred poetry. The Free-Lancer bids you join in the fight against PC....Enjoy:

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

Where Are Our Odes?

2009-02-03T16:51:00.008-05:00

"You want to talk of Keats and Milton, she only wants to talk of love..." --Professor Henry Higgins

Say what you will about the Romantics, but you cannot deny that more pieces of poetry written in the 19th century will be read and remembered long after the world has forgotten Maya Angelou. Poetry in the traditional sense is no longer important (as I argued previously HERE), however modern poetry and modern poets still stylize themselves in such pretentious ways that not only is their work vainly inconsequential, it isn't even enjoyable to read. It seems that if a poem isn't feminist, racial, or involving child abuse it doesn't get printed these days. Call me a romantic if you will (for tis true) but I long for the time when a great poem could be written about a vase and still have a profound impact on literature.

ODE ON A GRECIAN URN by JOHN KEATS

THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape 5
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? 10

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave 15
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! 20

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearièd,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love! 25
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. 30

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea-shore, 35
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return. 40

O Attic shape! fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! 45
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.' 50

You Can Piss in One Hand and Hope in the Other...

2009-02-03T13:17:00.004-05:00

Oh Sure, Barack, this government thing is all one big gas.

Nothing inspires a struggling nation like confidence and leadership. Thanks to a population of idiots, our nation has a government comprised of neither. President Obama says it will be "years, not months" before things start to "get better." He is certainly doing his best to make that statement fact.

Today, in a victory for common sense (rare these days) and as a further demonstration of the Democratic Party's ineptitude and corruption, two of Obama's hand-picked nominees for cabinet positions "withdrew." Tom Daschle couldn't even win reelection of his senate seat in 2004, mostly thanks to property-tax scam he perpetrated (You can reminisce on that classic episode HERE) and yet our President still thought it would be a good idea to make him the Secretary of Health and Human Services (which does what, exactly?). If you follow the news at all, you know that it was revealed that Daschle cheated on his income taxes to the tune of some 120 grand. However, after a lame-ass apology, Obama pretty much said "whatever" and decided to let things roll. We now receive this ham-fisted statement from the Whitehouse:

This morning Tom Daschle asked me to withdraw his nomination for Secretary of Health and Human Services. I accept his decision with sadness and regret….Tom made a mistake, which he has openly acknowledged. He has not excused it, nor do I. But that mistake, and this decision, cannot diminish the many contributions Tom has made to this country from his years in the military to his decades of public service.

Then, there is the little matter of Obama's "Chief Performance Officer." You can't make this stuff up:

Nancy Killefer, who failed for a year and a half to pay employment taxes on household help, has withdrawn her candidacy to be the first chief performance officer for the federal government, the White House said Tuesday. Killefer was the second major Obama administration nominee to withdraw and the third to have tax problems complicate their nomination after President Barack Obama announced their selection.The White House said Obama had accepted Killefer’s decision and that the 55-year-old executive with consulting giant McKinsey & Co., would explain her reasons for pulling out later Tuesday.When her selection was announced by Obama on Jan. 7, The Associated Press disclosed that in 2005 the District of Columbia government had filed a $946.69 tax lien on her home for failure to pay unemployment compensation tax on household help.

Drudge is calling the events a circus, and I couldn't agree more. Is this the change we need? Is the hope that is so audacious? I would say I told you so, but I think our Vice President already put it better than I ever could:

A Gift to Our Readers

2009-01-30T15:18:00.003-05:00

It came to my attention today that in 100 select AMC movie theatres across America, you can purchase a pass for $30 to see all five Best Picture (AMPAAS) nominated films in one day. From Cinematical:

The event is happening at about 100 AMC theaters in 42 U.S. and Canadian cities (here's the list), and the cost is $30. For that you get all five movies, plus unlimited popcorn all day long. The schedule is the same everywhere. You'll start the day at 10:30 a.m. with a serving of Milk, then follow it up at 1:05 p.m. with The Reader. That takes care of all of the day's nudity, leaving you free to focus on other things. At 3:45, you'll see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, then watch Slumdog Millionaire at 7:15, and wrap things up with Frost/Nixon at 9:45.

Readers here will remember that I have seen these films (ok, haven't watched Milk), therefore I wouldn't be interested in paying to see any of them again. Neither, do I believe, would any of you. However, I think I might be interested in competing with AMC and offering the same deal, all five movies scheduled similarly, for ABSOLUTELY FREE! You see, I am a privvy journalist and have therefore made it my business to make these films available to myself, and now they can be available to you.

Thus, if anyone is interested, I could totally hook this up one day. The five best picture nominees, unlimted popcorn (or whatever the heck else, why not corndogs, chips and salsa, beer?) all in one day all for nothing. Time and place TBD. RSVP in the comment section.
Boy, I am generous aren't I?

2009-01-30T10:52:00.000-05:00

Friday Batman

2009-01-30T09:21:00.003-05:00

Things haven't been all that great lately. The economy is rough and Obama with the Dems in Congress wants to hemorrhage money to "stimulate it." The Dark Knight was refused the respect it deserves from the academy. And I personally have been hitting a lot of road blocks on my highway to awesometown. Actually, I'm kind of stalled out in a rest stop right now. The point is, there are plenty of reasons to be blue right now, and no one sings the blues like Batman:

For those of you who habla Español:

Emergency Post

2009-01-29T09:10:00.003-05:00

First, thanks to Tuce63 aka Lee for the help...the Free-Lancer is now searchable. You are a scholar and a gentleman, sir.

Second,
If you weren't already aware of the huge mistake America made in electing President Obama and allowing an overwhelmingly Democrat congress to persist, the the trillion dollar "economic stimulus package" ought to wise you up.
Yes, dear readers, the sinking ship we call our congress voted yesterday to pass the bill that Obama has been pushing since he took office, and which has received no bipartisan support (change we need). I am sure you are familiar with the bill, its the one that cost over 800 billion and allocated 350 million of that for contraceptives to "stimulate the economy." On top of that it has provisions for low income singles and couples to receive between $500 to $1000 worth of tax rebates--even if they didn't pay any federal taxes. Even though virtually no Republicans voted for the bill in the house, it passed unopposed, as it is likely to do in the Senate. Obama hopes to sign the bill into law in mid-February.
Just to be clear, this is a bill intended to "stimulate" the economy by pumping a trillion dollars of money that doesn't exist into sectors of society that do not generate economic growth. The Dems argue that they are trying to keep more people from losing jobs. Great, because bankrupting an already debt-burdened nation is the best way to do just that.

Many people mused rather naively during the election that "nothing is really going to change" when Obama takes office; "It will be more of the same old, same old." I agree in a general sense, as politicians always do stupid, counterproductive things. However, the foolishness and arrogance of the Obama administration only two weeks in is already reaching Soviet levels. The President himself said, after refusing to make any changes the Republicans asked for in the bill (namely reduce or remove all of the spending measures and leave only tax cuts) is quoted as saying,
" I understand that and I will watch you on Fox News and feel bad about myself."
He then threw a COCKTAIL PARTY, which is exactly the change we need.

There is good news though. Fox 2000 has picked up the Narnia franchise after Disney unceremoniously dumped it, and they hope to have The Voyage of the Dawn Treader out in theatres by next Christmas. Read Here.

Post Limit

2009-01-28T15:53:00.002-05:00

It appears as though I am nearing my self-imposed post limit for the month of January, and since I must save room for Friday Batman and leave open an emergency slot for new Fail-Out vote, posting will grind to a slow halt until February. There will be one last "From the Vault" and then you're on your own.

Trust me though, Feb. will be quite the month (Oscars, Valentines, Black History) so never fear. I promise to finish my run down of the Oscar nominated films before the ceremony that we are boycotting. Until then, be content with the myriad of material available to you in the archives. I wish I was smart enough to have a search feature, but I don't. Anyone want to help me with that?

Makes More Sense than Calculus

2009-01-28T10:26:00.002-05:00

The Thing

2009-01-27T15:29:00.003-05:00

John Carpenter's The Thing was one of a handful of movies I saw as a kid that really scared the poop right out of me and turned me off to horror films altogether. When the one guy's chest opens up and bites off the other guys arms, I nearly had a heart attack. That entire sequence still gives me nightmares. After many years, I manned up and watched the film again and fell right in love with it. I saw the corny 1951 original (in glorious black and white), and I bought and played the heck out of the awesome video game on the original Xbox. Now, some insane Frenchmen have recreated the movie in six minutes using GI Joes and stop motion. The music is lame and annoying, but the video itself is utterly incredible.

Slumdog Millionaire

2009-01-27T10:29:00.006-05:00

Firstly, I will not be writing a traditional review. I saw the film some weeks before it won all those globes and then went on to get a respectable bevy of Oscar nods. However, I never felt the need to cover it or recommend/deter anyone from seeing the picture period. I liked the movie overall, thought the direction was skilled and inspired, the cinematography vivid and exciting, and the story excellently paced and interesting enough (the central conceit of the gameshow answers coming from the protagonist's life experiences is a brilliant one even if it is cheating.) However, Slumdog is essential a lame love story with a music number at the end.

The interesting thing to me about Slumdog Millionaire is all the attention is has received, both positive and negative, despite the fact that the film is relatively ordinary and, quite frankly, empty. Yet, there are many writers out there absolutely falling over themselves to praise the British-made picture. Recently some mouth-breather named David Gitten wrote an article for the UK online publication The Telegraph in which he postulated that Slumdog Millionaire is the "first film of the Obama era." To quote the article,

The first striking thing about this British-made film is its even-handed, generous spirit of universality. It is set in India and it's about Indians. There is no hint of Merchant Ivory decorum, the predicaments of rich westerners far from home, nor any notion that Boyle and his team were engaged in a David Lean-style imperial adventure in what was once one of the pink regions on the globe. Refreshingly, there is also no white character to "explain" the story (which needs no explanation) to western audiences.

"No white character." This is part of Gitten's reason for believing Slumdog is part of the "Obama era." Why? Because Obama is (half) black, of course. Back to race, (even though Obama has unfied us and removed race from the equation, right?) Has Gitten already forgotten about City of God, a far more honest, and even less "white" film that dealt with almost the exact same subject matter (favelas of Brazil instead of Slums in India) without any of the lame love story crap thrown in? Slumdog may not have a white character in the film "explaining" the story, but nearly the whole movie is in English! The English parts of the movie aren't even narratively motivated. The film just, whenever it feels like it, switches from Hindi to English to ensure that "white" audiences are thoroughly "explained" the story. Gitten goes on to further state,

It does not have an ironic moment. It is utterly devoid of cynicism. Instead, it is bright-eyed, optimistic – idealistic, even. To generations reared on a drip-feed of corrosive cynicism, the elevation of greed for greed's sake and weary disillusion with our leaders and our institutions it feels almost shocking.

Gitten has the audacity to say that 1) Slumdog is devoid of cynicism and "greed for greed's sake" despite two of its key characters being cynical, greedy villains who are neither redeemed nor condemned by the film (the brother and the gameshow host), and 2) this optimistic, idealistic tendency is the hallmark of the "Obama" era. According to the addlebrained Brit, there were no movies made before Obama came along that exhibited optimism. Had Gitten been simply watching all of the Iraq War movies that Hollywood liberals pushed out, he may logically be forgiven for such an ignorant observation, for the entire tenor of the Democratic Party, Obama's party, is and has been one of cynicism specifically in regards to A) The War B) George W. Bush and C) America's position as a world power. It isn't that optimism has been missing from filmmaking during the past few decades, it is that the optimistic films have been ignored. How in allah's name was The Dark Knight not optimistic? In that film Batman literally battles against the cynicism of the Joker in a showdown whereby two ships full of people refuse to blow each other up to save their respective lives. Batman's faith in Gotham at that moment stands in stark, optimistic opposition to the cynical view of the Joker that everyone is simply watching out for numero uno. But no, that film cannot be the first film of the "Obama era" because of its staunchly pro-War on Terror standpoint...that and it is full of white people.

Back to the issue at hand; Slumdog says nothing new. Though being set in India and featuring Indian characters, it offers very little insight into modern Indian society and in fact, according to the Indians themselves, hides the truth behind a cinematic sheen; a veneer of movie magic if you will. The statistical wizards who create such things say that 9 million people out of the 20 million that are packed into Mumbai (Bomaby for those who don't speak PC) are below the "poverty line" and live in slums. Slumdog Millionaire brushes this statistic over and merely uses the slums as a reference point (look how far he has come!) in the framework of what is essentially another "American dream" story where the poor boy, through wit and determination becomes wealthy and along the way gets the girl. Even the most compelling part of the movie, the depiction of child abuse by gangs in order to extort money, is marginalized into a convenient plot point (that damsel has got to be in some kind of distress).

Oddly enough, those poor Indians who actually did see the film think its a pure Hollywood fantasy, a betrayal of the true hideousness of the beggar gangs in Bombay, and a crock o' crap in general (don't you dare call it Bollywood). The actual slumdogs are effectively rioting in the streets and attacking cinemas in protest--mostly because they don't like "dog" being in the title.
To quote the Times Online,

"Referring to people living in slums as dogs is a violation of human rights," said Mr Vishwakarma, who works for a group promoting the rights of slum dwellers. "We will burn Danny Boyle [the film's British director] effigies in 56 slums here."

They are upset, because unlike America and Britain, people in the rest of the world don't think dogs are cute and take offense when called such. I think their ire is inconsequential, and a bit stupid, but the disconnect between Gitten's retarded article and reality deserves to be brought to light.

Happy Australia Day

2009-01-26T13:21:00.004-05:00

In an odd twist of fate, today is not only the most important day in Chinese culture, but also the most important day in Australian culture.

Today, January 26th in 1788 the First Fleet of convicts sailed into Sydney Cove and began what would become the nation Down Under. The Aussies put on a big shindig with tall ship races in Sydney Harbour, with reenactments, with barbies (Lamb Chops!), and with lots of drinking.

Happy Australia Day. I for one with having a go with some a lamb and a stubby. Cheers.

Happy New Year

2009-01-26T13:16:00.002-05:00

"What scene? The scene is about emotionality. Where is it? Now it's time to flip the script! We'll get to Chinese New Year waitin' for my man to cry" --Kirk Lazarus (Robert Downey Jr.)

Today is the Chinese New Year. I hope Tug Speedman is crying. How do the Chinese celebrate their new year? Why, by dressing up in gold track suits and rapping with children, of course!

That big guy is supposedly the most popular "singer" in the Greater China Area.

Free-Lancer Military Update

2009-01-23T14:35:00.001-05:00

From the Vault: The Art of B.S.

2009-01-23T13:28:00.004-05:00

I mainly earned my college degree by writing papers that had the veneer of intelligence, but really didn't say anything. Many, actually most, times my papers would be custom tailored to the professor essentially expressing exactly what I thought that individual believed or would want to read in a paper. The university system is a wilderness of liberalism, and I being the young-white-male-conservative-Christian that I am was often forced to write papers in a voice and style that expressed views entirely contrary to my own. Yet, its all about that "A" in school these days so I did what I needed to. Of course, at the end of my run I decided to buck the system and ended up proving my point that dissenting views (read conservative) are punished in today's colleges. You can read up on that whole rodeo HERE.

As I was going through the vault today, I dredged up a piece of crap I wrote for some hippie femi-Nazi in an American Film History class that I eventually dropped due to nature of films I was being forced to write on (Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Titanic?...nigga please.) In honor of President (gag) Obama, here is some classic B.S. I churned out on race in Night of the Living Dead. Before you read the piece understand that I hate that movie and don't believe a single thing I wrote (for the most part.) It got a solid "A" though.

In film, as in literature, genre pieces are often discounted as commercial devices and seldom examined on their own merits as works of art with any serious application. Arguably, this is most true for the horror film which belongs to a genre which, if taken seriously, must be passed through a sizable sieve in order to separate the myriad of components from the monster films of the Thirties to today’s Japanese new wave and their remakes. The films that would pass the sieve and broach areas worth studying would be those, such as Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (Dead), which carry within them a form of recognizable social commentary. Dead was a product of the Sixties and served to turn an expressionistic lens onto the problems and concerns of that generation.

What is immediately evident in the commentary offered by Romero through his film is the challenging of filmic archetypes with the presence of a sole black male protagonist. Reflected in the protagonist’s struggle are the Civil Rights issues that were exploding on a nation full force during the films production and release in a year, 1968, that saw the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. It is not difficult to see the resemblance of the final scenes featuring red neck gun-toting militia and their hounds to lynch mobs, leading up to the final and somewhat inevitable execution of the protagonist.

The conflicts of the characters within the film sting with racial commentary as the hero, portrayed by Duane Johnson, refuses to submit to the authority of the “man” and be sequestered into a cellar. Pertinent to the critique of race relations in the film is the manner of death of many of the characters; those who side with Johnson are killed via outside forces i.e. zombies, which could represent society, and those who side against him are killed from within i.e. the family tearing itself apart. Strengthening the commentary of such scenes is the absence of acknowledgement of race by any of the characters involved in the film; each character is accepted on their own terms leaving the audience to be implicated in the race game.

Whereas racial issues of the Sixties color (pun intended) the immediate, it is the Vietnam War and its subsequent social unrest that permeates the entirety of the film. Dead was not the first zombie picture to be made but at its release it was the most violent and graphic of nearly any film to that point prompting a barrage of negativity from critics and movie-goers alike. Many were put off by the gore and explicit images, particularly when the film was bundled with “kiddie pictures” through a gross marketing error by distributor Continental distributing. Yet the film gained and retained popularity because it exposed a violent unrest that defined the late Sixties/early Seventies culture; a culture that saw an easy correlation between the images of the senseless killing on the screen and the war images on the television.

Essentially, Dead is an attempt at modern allegory which seeks to intentionally subvert a volatile culture of inequality and injustice. Whether or not the film succeeds in its critique is a question that could only be answered thirty years ago. The problems that fuel the film have passed and new problems have arisen, many of which have also been dealt with in later Romero films—not least of which being American consumerism. However, during its day, Dead provided a stylized portrait of modern times painted with Romero’s own brand of acerbic insight.

Chicken or Egg?

2009-01-23T10:59:00.000-05:00

You know, like that commercial:

Friday Batman

2009-01-23T10:46:00.002-05:00

Ever heard of the People's Choice Awards? Me either. However, it exists and those "people" who choose things weren't pretentious snobs with their head ups their butts (i.e. the Academy) and they gave The Dark Knight all the Awards they could:

Also, I think the Golden Globes this year might actually have gotten some things right, like giving Heath the globe (and Colin for In Bruges...)

Batman will unfortunately have to be satisfied with these accolades, because the tool-box that is the Oscar voters just can't see the big picture.

Boycott the Oscars....For Batman

2009-01-22T20:19:00.003-05:00

It is official, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is irrelevant. It is a safe bet that the Academy doesn't even watch movies anymore. They wait a little while around Christmas time for the "important" movies to come out, and then they slap together the most pretentious list they can come up with.

Many good articles have been written today following the release of the '08 Oscar noms, such as THIS ONE at Big Hollywood by Andrew Leigh, or THIS ONE by William Goss over at Cinematical. Both writers come from different ends of the political spectrum and both agree that the Academy has turds for brains for snubbing The Dark Knight (and The Wrestler, but I don't think that one really deserves a Best Pic nod.)

Leigh postulates that the Oscars this year will be the lowest rated ever, and I agree. I think, to help things along we should all boycott them by not even turning our TV's on that night (not as though any of you had planned to watch the show since the highlight the past two years has been Will Ferrell and Jack Black's musical numbers HERE and HERE.)

I liked Benjamin Button, but I don't think it deserves any of the awards it was nominated for except Cinematography and Direction (because, darn it all, Fincher deserves that statue). Sure its nice that Heath got a nod, and Downey Jr., but The Reader? Frost/Nixon? Milk? None of those films even come close to the near-perfection that was The Dark Knight.

Oh well, you always have Friday Batman to look forward to.

Free-Lancer Scientific Update

2009-01-22T13:44:00.001-05:00

Early Morning Elitism

2009-01-22T09:49:00.004-05:00

I don't want to be one of those "gun-jumpin" journalists, but it looks like the Academy Awards nominations are up (via a list on Yahoo news). Very few surprises, ladies and gentleman. Of course The Dark Knight got shut out of the the three majors: no Best Picture nod, no Best Director nod for Nolan, and no Best Adapted Screenplay nod. Such an affront is reason alone for me to write off the Academy entirely, but you must remember these are the tools who thought Crash was the best picture of, well 2004 specifically but of anytime is retarded. Of course Milk gets a Best Pic nod, wouldn't want those Oscar voters to appear homophobic. Frost/Nixon is there as well, for political reasons because anyone who saw that film knows it is painfully stagy and had the production value of a late '90s TNT original.

When the list is officially announced (by someone other than Yahoo) I will do a complete breakdown. The biggest "surprise" of sorts is all the nominations that The Curious Case of Benjamin Button received. In any event, this year is shaping up to be as lame as the last five or six....actually, last year wasn't too off, but still...