27 September 2005

seven years, and still...

Google does not find any useful results for "ice cream truck versions of popular songs". I'd settle for ice-cream-truck versions of not-so-popular songs, too* or even calliope renditions, but alas, it seems to be an untapped niche, even in this modern world. I guess we're all moving to fast to mix together today's music with the music-players of yore.

Or maybe, just maybe, such a combination would be so horrendously annoying beyond mere human comprehension.


* Oft-quoted comedian Steven Wright remarked "The ice cream truck in my neighborhood
plays 'Helter Skelter'." but I think he made that up.

25 September 2005

everything's connected

Based on an offhand recommendation from somebody at work, tonight as I washed the dishes I watched Harold and Kumar go to White Castle. I hadn't heard much about the movie before, and frankly never added it to my list because it sounded mindless, and was written and directed by the 'auteur' behind Dude, where's my car, which I have not yet seen. That movie has been described to me as equally hilarious and stupid, and, well, I just haven't gotten around to checking it out yet.

On the Harold and Kumar DVD is included the trailer for Festival express, the 33 years overdue documentary about the 1970 Canada train that shuttled Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead, Buddy Guy, The Band, the Flying burrito brothers, and others between three massive concerts and the jam sessions and parties and liquor store raids in between. I mention this because part of the trailer is scored with the Dead's "Casey Jones" (a song obviously inspired by the trip), which I had inexplicably running through my head for a number of hours two days prior. Ooooh, spooky.

While we're on the topic of music, however, I must give credit to Harold and Kumar for finally letting me hear the lyrics of "Let's get retarded" by the Black-eyed peas*. You could well recognize this song, as it is largely the title phrase repeated over some catchy beats over and over again. I'd heard it every week at work during our weekly lobby meetings to announce how well the business was doing, and I'd taken the lyrics to say "Let's get things started" or something similar. Never once had I thought that our company's co-presidents would use a song about getting wasted as a lead-in for a meeting.

Speaking then of bureaucracy (well, I guess I was), I also watched The Terminal, starring Tom Hanks and Stanley Tucci. Stanley's one of those actors whose name is immediately recognizable even if his face or his films are not. At least, he was to me. For many a year I've had Joe Gould's secret on my list of films to watch, and I think it was probably because Ian Holm was in it. Oddly enough I happened to see it at the library today, as I often have, since it doesn't seem to get checked out very much. Every time I see it I consider watching it, but the few times I glance at the covers I put it back, not wanting to see a period piece or a sappy drama. Well it turns out that Stanley stars in it and directs it. Go figure. I'll probably watch it soon, as Stanley does a pretty good job in Terminal. Also on my list is 1996's Big night, his directorial debut, and I'm pretty sure I'd added that because Tony Shaloub is in it.

That's what I like about having such a long list (over four hundred films long), the fact that I often forget why a certain one is on it and get the thrill of figuring it out while watching. Of course not every movie I watch is on my list before I see it; such was the case with The last shot, in which, coincidentally, Tony Shaloub appears.

His scenes aren't the high point of that film, but they aren't its lowest either. It's an adequate Hollywood farce, more or less, but doesn't seem to make much of its potential. The story is about a fake film production to cover a mob crackdown, and it turns into a fable about compromising one's vision and selling out and cashing in and filming a movie called "Arizona" in New England.

Matthew Broderick actually looks like a grownup, for once, but that might just be the beard talking. Alec Baldwin doesn't impress as much as he could as a starry-eyed FBI agent finally seeing his chance to do something big. The rest of the cast fails to make much of an impression as well (except in small bits, such as Toni Collette providing a drug test urine sample while chatting in a restaurant). Prominent for the lack of prominence is Calista Flockhart as a foul-mouthed struggling actress who takes small animals hostage to get her way at least twice. I think that her doing this is the old hackened phenomenon of the tv actor trying to escape typecasting as a popular, wholesome character, but she comes off as more annoying than startling or eye-opening.

On the other side of the cliché is Neil Patrick Harris's appearance in Harold and Kumar, as himself. Not only is he a former wholesome character trying to expand his reperitoire, his character is expected to be as nice as Doogie Howser and this allows him even more of a free hand to mess with the protagonists and the audience. He reappears later in the film and neatly ties up his little plot tangent, and satisfyingly so (for us and for the guys onscreen) and overall it works. Yes, it's a stunt, and one as blatant as Dustin Diamond's uncredited cameo in Made (as himself, the guy who played Screech on Saved by the bell) and just as well incorporated into the plot.

So did I like any of these movies? I'm not sure. Harold and Kumar go to White Castle made me laugh a number of times and brightened up what would otherwise been dull dish-washing. It has funny moments, but they don't gel into something of significance, unlike, oh, Office space, for example. The boys aren't Cheech and Chong reincarnated, and fail to overcome the limitations of the road movie, drug movie, and mismatched buddy films all in one shot.

The Terminal also made me laugh, and at more sophisticated jokes. It too falters, relying on too many neat little touches or strays too far from plausibility, but everybody involved puts so much into it to make it nevertheless watchable and enjoyable. Knowing Andrew Niccol had a hand in writing it helped me understand the inclusion of some of the film's scenes that were too quirky to be believable, but Spielberg and Hanks handle them more masterfully than Al Pacino and Niccol himself did with the clunky, dull and totally unbelievable S1m0ne from a couple years back. Niccol's an interesting writer, but in smaller doses and concepts not quite so high. Still, I think I liked it, and I'll probably watch it again someday, if for nothing else but the rich performances and the impressive set construction that doesn't distract from them at all.

I've probably seen The last shot the only time I'll watch it. My track record with Hollywood farces and insider jokes is spotty at best. Of the ones I can list off the top of my head:The Player, Get Shorty, Swimming with Sharks and The Big Picture, I wasn't particularly enamored with any of them. There are better movies about making movies, but that would be a whole different topic to address. Perhaps another time.


* The Peas are at the forefront of the so-called 'crunk' genre of music, revolving around partying (i.e. smoking marijuana), getting drunk, and having fun. While I am certianly fond of that last one, and occasionally have partaken of the previous item, I haven't ever smoked up or smoked out or partied or whatever the kids call smoking pot these days. While I seem to be able to enjoy drug-reference movies on some level (Half baked was funnier than Harold and Kumar), what little bit of crunk I've heard has no appeal to me at all**.

** Moreover the popular crunk appropriation of the term 'retarded' to mean 'drunk and/or high' is at the same time offensive and disappointing. In addition it brings to mind the reprehensible Saturday night live sketches starring Jimmy Fallon and Rachel Dratch as idiot teenagers with a camcorder and a crush on each other. In every sketch, many times more than once, they play-insult each other with "You're retarded" in a stupid accent before making out. I do not like to be reminded of these sketches.

21 September 2005

epoch collapse

Well, one thing I can say about Resident evil: apocalypse is that it is darker than its predecessor. Much darker, in fact, as the first film takes place in well-lit hallways, and this one in the poorly-lit streets of Toronto* at night.

Gotta love that Canadian film industry.

I never did decide if I liked the original Resident evil, but I'm pretty sure I didn't like this one (and the critics, and the AMG** agree with me). It's interesting to watch, for the action and the effects, but it's more a showreel for the stunt coordinators and makeup people and CGI technicians than for the director or screenwriter(s). Some of it is too cool of an idea for the time they give it: one major scene finds Milla Jovovich apparently running down the face of Toronto's City Hall, an effect done largely in-camera (with a stuntwoman). It's over in a matter of seconds, just before rational thought could kick in about how ridiculous the idea is as well as visual critique that she's leaning backwards (i.e. upward, against both gravity and momentum). It's certainly something I've never seen before.

I've never seen most of the characters from the games, either, but I assume rubber-masked Nemesis is one of them. He's got 'miniboss' written all over him, from the massive guns to ugly visage, and even what looked to be a characteristic weak spot that is never exploited in the hand to hand fighting (unless you think I mean the big guy's deep-down sentimentality) or other proceedings.

Everything moves so quickly that some of the more ludicrous ideas seem appropriate enough, or at least plausible in the sense of the movie. The aforementioned brawl between tiny Milla and the massive Nemesis is an exhibition fight, staged by the evil and overarching Umbrella corporation (how awesome of a name is that?) to test two 'strains' of research against each other. I must admit, taking the time to get real-world testing during a virus outbreak and zombie assault takes a certain dedication to R&D that most corporate leaders, particularly ones with clipped British accents, couldn't deliver.

This single-minded determination and outright eminence of evil actually bolsters the company's onscreen credibility, not weakening it. For a company to be as far-reaching and to have the capabilities that it seems to have would take coordination and motivation on every level of management; there is no chance that the people in charge aren't aware of exactly what they're doing.

Which, apparently, is the development of viruses that create undead killing machines as well as multiple (competing even) methods of making the living into super killers as well. One can but wonder what these weapons are meant for (i.e. other than killing) as such a huge corporation would probably be raking in profits well above the GDPs of the countries/superpowers to which they could sell such weaponry. From the look of it they have the (will)power and resources to just steamroll anybody anyway.

The movie betrays its origin in gaming many a time, or so I assume. The editing is disjointed and the plot breathlessly sprints from one event to the next, often without any explanation up front or ever thereafter. One scene finds a squad of special forces attempting to defend a poorly-chosen position a street corner that turns onto a crossroads of death and destruction. Later we see more so-called S.T.A.R.S. holed up in a theater with a skillful sniper defending the front door, but no apparent defense on the other exits. Which is fine, since those doors only ever open from the inside, right? When people leave the theater, after, or during the movie, which some people probably did during this one.

Of course the movie dispenses with these slightly more intelligent cops with some well placed bullets, thematically a searing indictment of rational thought, a point driven further home by the appearance of Mike Epps for comic relief. As usual, nobody shoots him, and against the formula, he lives for the whole film. That's a nice touch, I suppose, though his character is largely extraneous and slightly annoying.

Which, really, you could say about the movie. It has more than a few interesting bits here and there, but the rock-stupid plot and one dimensional characters and mindless action scenes to bring them together all combine to make Apocalypse much less than the sum of its parts.


* Or as they call it, Raccoon City. I'm assuming that is the name from the games, but since I have never played any of the Resident evil games*** that's just a guess.

** And wouldn't you know it, but the AMG synopsis for this one is also incorrect. Twice!

...Resident Evil: Apocalypse finds Alice (Milla Jovovich) still battling the living dead who are overtaking Raccoon City. She was immune to the contagion by treatments she unwittingly received from the nefarious and all-powerful Umbrella Corporation. Alice encounters Jill Valentine (Sienna Guillory), a former member of Umbrella's internal defense team who shares Alice's immunity to the zombie virus. Forming an uneasy alliance... this tiny band of survivors seeks out Dr. Charles Ashford (Jared Harris) ... however ... he'll help Alice and her partners only if [his daughter] is returned to him safe and sound.
and here was my response to them:
Jill Valentine does not share Alice's immunity to the virus; Angelina Ashford does. Jill shares Alice's affinity and skill with guns.

The tiny band of survivors is not seeking out the Doctor, but his daughter, and he is clear about that at the start of their dealings.

I didn't even address the thematic mistakes in the synopsis, as it describes Milla & co. as trying to save the world, not just get out of the city alive. The movie's bad, but not in a 'ten people to save the world' kind of way.

*** I'll admit I played a copy of the Japanese PS1 light gun game Biohazard: Gun Survivor which was eventually imported over here, sans light gun capability, as Resident Evil: Survivor (or Outbreak or something like that). I never played it in English nor did I play it at all after ten minutes or so, so my exposure to the canon is, as I mentioned, virtually nil.

18 September 2005

more nega-TV-ty

The library reserve system works in mysterious ways. I request books, CDs and DVDs, and then I wait. Sometimes the materials come right away, and sometimes they take longer. Sometimes I get a postcard in the mail that tells me that my request just cannot be granted. I have no way of knowing if what I want will ever show up, and if so, when.

Well, it turns out that two DVD sets of second seasons of TV shows I enjoy showed up within a week of each other. I've long since given up on remembering when or why I request things, and for all I know I'd searched all DVDs for "complete second". Anyway, now I'm midway through watching both the second season of Dead like me (as I mentioned yesterday) and also Penn & Teller: Bullshit!. Jessica enjoys B.S.!* (as do I) so out of courtesy for her (and because I enjoy seeing her enjoy a DVD) I watch it only with her.

Formerly I would sometimes end up succumbing to temptation, watching episodes ahead and inevitably ruining the surprises and telegraphing the jokes by giggling early. So it takes some discipline to wait. It helps that I've got other stuff to watch on the side, too.

So anyway, we're watching the second season of these anarchic showmen and their exposés, and this time around the subjects are as sintersting as before, if not more, with the added benefit of them being more comfortable with confrontation and editing. The first season saw them addressing ESP, ouija boards, and bottled water, and this time they go after some bigger targets: P.E.T.A., the war on drugs, and 12-step programs. Here is a list of all the episodes.

One episode this season, however, stands out, even more than the first one's Secondhand smoke: Recycling. Their standpoint, which they back up with research from their crack team, is that recycling is largely not good for the environment or the economy. The make some sound points (it's cheaper, right now, to make new plastic bottles than to refine and reuse old ones to make new ones) and some that don't seem to stand up to scrutiny (there are more trees now than ever, mostly in tree farms, so saving paper doesn't save trees that don't need to be saved anyway) and some that are basically irrelevant (landfill space isn't exactly scarce). But they fall into the same trap that the network news and other sensationalist reporting does: they're out to entertain more than inform. They don't clearly state that they are focusing almost entirely on consumer curbside programs (which do, admittedly, waste a lot of time and fuel) and not the industrial re-use of waste, except in a brief mention on a toilet paper label, in a segment played more for a laugh than anything else.

But am I just being defensive because they've finally come after something that I put stock in and moreover, do? I don't think so. Their gleeful nihilism dismisses the eventuality that the costs of recycling will be cheaper than starting from scratch. They do point out that aluminum recycling is cost-effective and worthwhile, but they stop there at offering positive options or alternatives.

If ever an issue warranted followup or further explanation, it is this one. For them to dismiss it with the same sacred-cow-busting attitude as they do genuine nogoodniks like cosmetic surgery for children or the mortuary industry does everybody a disservice, if not the whole planet.

But I'm not going to stop watching them, of course.


* At least that's what the covers from the library's discs call the show. I'm happy that they buy the show, even if the title is potentially offensive.

17 September 2005

just call me mister negative DVD watcher

As a champion of the misguided, I've learned to recognize it relatively quickly. Surprisingly I don't recall picking up on it when I watched the first season of Dead like me. Now that I'm working my way through the show's second season, I think I'm beginning to see why it didn't work out, what with the show being cancelled after two seasons and all.

Or at least I have one theory. Allow me to spoil things a bit*. The show's about 'reapers', the grim and not-so-grim among the undead tasked with removing the souls of the dead just before their demise. The show centers around one particular reaper named George who hangs out with a foursome of reapers on a particularly nasty beat: accidents and other untimely demises.

Supernatural shows always seem to have trouble staying on the air for too long without being cancelled, alienating their fan base, or getting really, really weird or worse. Dead like me isn't really making those mistakes, but other ones. From what I've seen so far of the season, they (and I mean the writers, etc.) are getting sloppy. For a show that tries to skirt the issues of fate and causality and whatnot, it seems to be faltering.

For one thing, the reapers themselves are beginning to play critical roles in the victims' deaths. Namely, it seems that the poor sap (or sap-ette) wouldn't kick the bucket if not for our heroes having provided him with said bucket.

It's also starting to get more mixed up in soap-operatic dealings between the main characters and the secondary ones. This is inevitable, I suppose, but there are good ways to develop characters and other ways. Those other ways include suddenly developing complicated relationships or heretofore unmentioned backstories. No evil twins arise, but I'm not through the whole season yet.


* The standard disclaimers apply. If you don't want to find out about stuff, don't read it.

Thinking about it, in general, that "it" is entirely unnecessary. I could just settle with "If you don't want to find out about stuff, don't read". For pretty much everything, not just this DVD.

16 September 2005

a shout out to my peeps on the west coast

I hate to do this to y'all, but ladies and gentleman, I am attempting to turn over a something of a new leaf. You see, 2 A.M. (EST) is too late to go to bed every night. This of course is not your fault, as I generally tell you that I'm going to bed a while before I actually do, in fact, go to bed.

It's not a lie, it's just a little stretch of the truth. Does that make me a dishonest person?

I'm a negative person. Or so it seems lately. This does not make me happy*. I'm also one to occasionally dodge culpability, so I'm putting the blame on those late nights. Lack of sleep and whatnot.

It's probably a completely incorrect diagnosis, but it's what I'm going with for right now.

In the few days that I've started getting to bed before 1:30 (once even before 12:45) I've not necessarily been more pleasant. I've been no meaner, to boot.

I've also been waking up earlier, since I'm stuck in that rut of however many hours of sleep I'm used to getting, from between two or three when I fall asleep until five sometime when Jessica's alarm sounds.

Of course I very rarely hear her alarm, or at least react to it in a way that I can remember later. When she leaves for work and I fall back asleep, I generally don't even notice it, until I wake up at eight sometime (my clock is rather... inaccurate. Consistent, but inaccurate) and hastily rush myself off to work.

So that's how things were before. Lately I've awoken before my alarm, sometimes even having moments of dreams. Happy dreams.

So what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm trying to go to bed earlier.

But enough about me. Let's get back to the west coast.

Tonight I watched The Hitcher. It's the story of a guy who's trying to get to San Diego.

At first I didn't quite understand why driving a Cadillac from Chicago to San Diego would place our protagonist in the middle of nowhere Texas. After I watched the movie I checked out the route, and realized/remembered that the vast majority of the middle of these great States of ours isn't crisscrossed with convenient diagonal highways. A flying crow wouldn't cross the Lone Star state's borders (barring poor air conditions) but those confined to wheels on the ground find themselves at the mercy of the interstate highway grid, and that grid appears to pass through Amarillo between the city of broad shoulders and America's finest city (or so they say).

But our protagonist, played by the same guy I'd last seen (and only seen) in Soul man, is at the mercy of something much more sinister. He encounters Rutger Hauer, who I'd last seen (and possibly, again, only seen) in Blade runner, an enigmatic dark stranger who seems to vindicate every old wives' tale and urban legend ever uttered about hitchhiking.

I'd been told it was a creepy movie, and I was told correctly. It's quite creepy. So as to not give anything away, like the excessive bodycount (lots, but almost all of the violence is served offscreen), or the surprise ending (revenge is served), I'll just mention that it is crafted well enough, for what it is, and enjoyable enough, for what it is. It's not 'horror' (so I don't know where I thought I'd heard that), and it's not particularly deep, but it does lend me a tiny bit of perspective into Highwaymen, directed almost twenty years later by the same guy.

Let's hear it for Robert Harmon. C. Thomas Howell doesn't do too bad (he makes for a good everyman coming unhinged) but Robbie's really the star of the show. This time.


* In fact, by nature of being negative, I'm not happy. By definition, even.