29 January 2010

"I fed up with this world!"

Regular readers will know that I am a strong supporter of The Room, the smash hit film sensation that is sweeping cult cinema circles like the Black Death through Europe. However, I haven't experienced the full Rocky Horror-like sensation of seeing the film with a crowd of true-blue fanatics in a loaded theater. Until last night.
The first time I watched it was a couple of years ago by myself - I was home sick with the flu, but the next day I went back to work. I'm not claiming The Room miraculously healed me, but the timing is a bit suspicious. Since then, it's only been small (but very fun) group viewings at friends' apartments, getting loaded and reenacting our favorite scenes (I was Denny). I'd had a few opportunities to see it in the theater with a raucous crowd, but nothing quite convenient enough for me to rent a suit, buy a football, and fill a flask. Thankfully, Astoria Indies gave me another opportunity to get off my ass and fully experience it.
Astoria Indies is a screening series and networking group dedicated to promoting filmmaking within the eponymous New York neighborhood. For those of you in the area, I highly recommend attending its screenings at the Bohemian Beer Garden. They're taking place on Thursdays throughout the winter, to be capped off with a genuine festival in the spring. As January is comedy month, they appropriately got their hands on The Room, loaded the audience with in-the-know ringers, and handed out plastic spoons at the entrance.
Was the experience that much different? Definitely. While my friends and I have latched onto various mystifying aspects of the film, watching it with a different group gave me new things to notice and wonder at. We never picked up on the "Full House" connection, for example, and I don't think I've ever realized that when Lisa first seduces Mark, he wonders about candles and music that aren't actually present in the scene. The (screening) room was also charged with more energy than a small group can generate, which gave the laughter a momentum that carried us through the doldrums of the Second Act (which begin after the drug dealer scene and end with the surprise party). Something that had previously been tedious - like the long pans across the Golden Gate Bridge - suddenly became another part of the fun. It had a festival atmosphere amplified by the shouting wisecracks and the plastic spoons that showered around us every time the background photograph of a spoon was glimpsed.
There were other new things I spotted without having them pointed out to me. During the conversation Lisa has with her girlfriend ("Who are you?!" the crowd shouted when she entered with her poor man's Stifler), the awful continuity became glaringly obvious. Most people have written about Lisa's bulging neck in that scene (something else I hadn't seen until last night), but to me, the bigger offense was Lisa's drastic change in hand positions from shot to shot. I couldn't believe I hadn't picked up on it before. Yes, folks, much like other classic films, The Room offers new details to enjoy on every viewing.
I am not being facetious in the slightest when I say that everyone - at least, all filmmakers and artistic types - should see The Room at least once (and if one viewing is good for you, I can well understand that). Watching it is instructional, to be sure, but it's also, in some ways, inspirational. After all, if this one man could manage to get his dream project finished and embraced by fans around the world, what's to stop the rest of us?

18 January 2010

Jack Bauer's Hour of Power*

*Title recklessly stolen from friends.












11 January 2010

"You'll never hit me with a bullet that slow."


This is what assassinating ninjas looks like.







  3. Make 'em laugh (Versus);


05 January 2010

Leave the Window Ajar

The other day, the IMDb linked to this rather innocuous short article posted by NPR. Its author, Linda Holmes, makes the perfectly reasonable argument that we should be more open-minded in our cultural pursuits, that we shouldn't dismiss out of hand entire genres or authors or whatnot just because we've decided to be prejudiced against them. Here, in my opinion, is the money paragraph:
People who have written off all Hollywood movies, or all television, or all popular music (or all rap, or all thrillers, or all romantic comedies), on the basis of a presupposition about quality that blankets an entire medium or genre are regrettable for their corrosive attitudes, yes. But they're even more regrettable for what they're missing. Rare indeed is the enormous vat of nothing but bathwater; there's almost always a baby in there somewhere.
I certainly agree with that. I doubt I know anyone who doesn't. Most people think they're perfectly open-minded and would nod in approval, all while blithely dismissing something they think they're above, or not interested in. "Old black and white movies? Those are so boring!" No, you're just visually illiterate.

The problem comes in when people take this argument a step further and start suggesting you take in specific films, books, songs, etc. "How do you know Twilight is stupid? You haven't seen it or read the books! So shut up!" "So what if all the reviews of Norbit were terrible? Watch it and make up your mind!" "Well, I like 'Rock of Love.' You shouldn't have an opinion unless you watch it too." We all know someone like this. We've all probably been someone like this. It's an irritating argument precisely because it is, in theory, correct. But in practice, as in, the way life is actually lived on this Earth, it is horribly wrong and leads to wasted lives and minds.

Why? Because there is too much shit out there. And I don't mean "shit" as in "bad." I mean "shit" as in "sheer volume." A quick count on the Wikipedia page for "2009 in Film" tells me that 273 films were released in the United States last year (no, I'm not recounting them to make sure I'm accurate). And those are just the major ones. Think about all the films that played in festivals, or that your friends made, or were only in a theater for one showing and then disappeared. No one saw every single one. I didn't even see 273 movies in total, and I watch a hell of a lot of movies. Now take all those movies and add in all the television shows you're supposed to be watching, the books you're supposed to reading, the music you're supposed to be listening, the podcasts you're supposed to be downloading, and the YouTube clips you're supposed to be forwarding.

That's all the media for you to consume in the short periods of time you have between work, sleep, family, friends, general mental-grabassery, and (maybe) exercise. And that's just the new media, by the way. Don't forget about all the old classics you should watch, and everything that came out the year before you still need to catch up on.

The sheer bulk of today's cultural output necessitates that we keep our windows closed a bit. Some discrimination must be wielded. I am not, however, advocating that we overlook entire swathes of culture willy-nilly. My argument is thus: We must not be outright, ignorant dismissers, but informed dismissers. We must work together to keep ourselves sane and our Netflix queues neat and orderly. How so? I'm sure most of you do it already. You read reviews, or hear what your friends have to say, or find articles analyzing and dissecting. This perks something in your mind - "Say, that sounds pretty cool" - and it leads you to seek out and conquer. Over time, you learn whose opinions and thoughts you generally agree with, or find most insightful, and you turn to them for their thoughts more frequently than other places. You become better at judging things from advance word, or based on what the artists have done previously, and this leads you to spend your time more fruitfully.

Ah, yes, of course there are problems with this. Namely that you run the risk of falling down the rabbit hole of taste, like those who only listen to indie music or only watch horror films. Also, I agree that it's better to know as little as possible about something before you go into it; that way you're free to judge/enjoy it on its own merits without your preconceived notions screwing the pooch. This is especially true in a day and age when, thanks to the proliferation of opinions on the Internet, everything is simultaneously over- and underrated before it's even been released.

Therefore, if you wish to remain a culturally broad individual, you have to keep an open mind whilst simultaneously judging things entirely on the scant amount of reports, trailers, and previews you must limit yourself to. In addition, you avoid entirely dismissing something. While it may not look good in the here and now, future thought may convincingly persuade you otherwise. Yes, "Bad Girls Club" looks like a complete waste of time that you would do well to skip, but if a person makes the argument that it's actually a compelling look at traumatically disturbed skanks suffering serious denial and indicative of the sad state of our society, well then, it might be worth a look or two.

Once again, though, caution must be taken. Whoever is making the argument that the shit sandwich really is peanut butter and jelly must give you sufficient reason to change your mind. "It's good" is not enough. They must offer "It was good because..." They must work to change minds and demonstrate why Object A is worth your precious time. (But then again, that's something everyone should be doing always. If you don't know why you like the things you do, even if most others agree with your opinion, then what good is it?)

And if they don't convince you? There's no reason to be snotty. Take a lesson from literature and stick with "I would prefer not to." They have their reasons for enjoying "Jersey Shore," and if they're not reasons you can get behind, so be it. At least it makes them happy. Let them be in peace. Basically, I can sum up this post with one sentence, the modern-day Golden Rule: Don't be a dick.

Unless they dismiss something you love. In which case, go full-on apeshit.

03 January 2010

"Novelty is as old as the hills."

With New Year's now officially over and done with, I've managed to best temptation. I have not posted any sort of Year or Decade in Review, nor predictions for the future. Mostly because I was too busy to do so, which isn't really anything to take pride in - sheer laziness and holiday obligations have trumped the ease of composing a Looking Back, Looking Forward piece. The other part of it - because there is always another part - is fear. Fear that, once again, I have simply not done enough to create, to make my voice heard, to impose my will upon Creation. Time moves swiftly, and the window for making some kind of impact rapidly diminishing.

Crazy talk, of course. One can't take that kind of thing into account when dreaming up projects and films. Not too much, anyway. We just have to do what we can and let the public and press figure out what is worthwhile and what is crap (with our notions changing from moment to moment). But rather than doing something sensible like looking back and taking stock of what has happened to better manage and plan for what will come, I prefer to remain afloat on an uncomfortable cushion of speed and adrenaline (yes, yes, like Wile E. Coyote skimming through the air before he looks down). Retrospection should come only by accident, and all deeper findings derived from it should be judged with suspicion and trepidation. Perhaps like many artists, I don't know why I do what I do, and I'm afraid to find out what drives me. Knowledge is power, but self-knowledge is fucking scary. I'd much rather analyze and critique other people.


I just wrote those words, and I believed them when I did, but in re-reading, I realize they're bullshit. I love critiquing and analyzing myself when prompted - I'm my favorite subject, after all - and I also think that learning new information, while often destroying comforting illusions, replaces them with a more concrete, tangible, and rewarding reality/consciousness/state of being. Case in point: films. It's harder to lose yourself in an awful romantic comedy when you know how the sausage is produced, but it can give you greater appreciation for those filmmakers and works that fall outside the Hollywood milieu.

I suppose I've argued myself into actually having some Year in Review of what I and my collaborators have accomplished thus far. But, for the time being, I'd still rather be the dark horse and draw your attention to several films I've been fortunate to watch in the past few days.

Children of Paradise - There are certain classic films that most people are trepidatious about watching. They don't like the black and white, or it's in a foreign language, or it's four hours long. But those films are classics for a reason. Beyond their superb and innovative technical work, they contain great stories and tell them extremely well. They exist in a category I like to think of as "Classic Movies That Are Also Really Fucking Good," in that even non-cinephiles can dig them if they're willing to try them out. The most prominent two films I put here are Citizen Kane and Seven Samurai (I suppose The General also belongs...hell, I would put pretty much any old film I love in this category). Joining them now is Children of Paradise.

Alright, so Arletty was a bit too old for her part. Otherwise, flawless.

It's French. It came out in 1945. It's three hours long. It prominently features mimes. But it breezes by due to the great pacing of the editing and the sheer strength of the story and characters. It crams a lot into its running time, with no less than four major leads and a bevy of supporting turns. Though it's an original story, it feels like an adaptation of a major novel by Victor Hugo or Charles Dickens. Each character is well-drawn and distinguished, and even the minor ones have memorable traits, like Jericho, the ragman known by an infinite number of alternate monikers, or Avril, the street tough who isn't actually very tough. With its cosmopolitan and frank point of view on love and sex, the film, like all the greats, remains relevant and compelling today. The world it creates is so alive that the concluding scenes, set during the Paris Carnival celebrations, give you a you-are-there feeling, the sense that they will always exist and will always take place in some hidden corner of the space-time continuum (as a point of reference, this is the same hard-to-describe sensation I get when I read the The Sound and the Fury, particularly the Quentin section).

The Cameraman - While I was waiting for the delivery men to drop off my brand new bed this morning, I watched this Buster Keaton silent film. As if it were all preordained, they called me just when the movie was over to let me know they would soon be by. The film is a very good comedy made even more fascinating by the passage of time. It depicts cityscapes and attitudes long since past, with its hapless but determined hero trying to make good and win the girl by getting enmeshed in Tong gang wars featuring blasting machine guns but no visible casualties.

It's tough to find good gags these days that can compare with the best in silent comedies. From Keaton's casual reappearance after being knocked down a flight of stairs to his gently placing a knife into the hand of a struggling gangster to create a more exciting scene, there is an emphasis on the visual (naturally enough) that is sorely lacking in today's cinema. Nowadays it's largely about the one liners people can deploy to cut each other down - not that I'm against that, but it would be nice for some emphasis on other comedic areas as well.

Perhaps filmmakers first starting out should devote themselves to creating silent shorts. Once they've mastered how to tell a story entirely through visual terms, then they can go on and throw in dialogue and sound effects. Unfortunately, there isn't much of an audience for silents these days, but the Internet offers great potential as a distribution arm for the genre. People might not go to the theater anymore for a feature length silent, but I bet they'd be more than willing to download a five or six minute comedy, or even a series of them. Hell, Duly Noted is still the film we get complimented on the most, and it doesn't have a lick of talk.

Police, Adjective - Once my bed was delivered, I headed down to the IFC Center for a double feature. First up was this Romanian work, one of the latest in that country's new wave of realism. Truth be told, in the beginnings it's a little too slow-paced. I could hear the audience around me audibly growing antsy, then somewhat stir crazy with the film showing us every little piece of an investigation by a cop into a group of teens he doesn't want to bust. But the film tips its hand in a scene where the cop has to listen to his wife playing the same vapid pop song over and over. It's a masterpiece of dry comedy, and perhaps the frame through which the rest of the film should be viewed: as a very, very dry comedy. Certainly the later scenes become funnier as the cop deliberately delays completing his case by any means possible. Still, the very nature of the plot - a man trying to avoid doing something - makes for a slightly inert viewing experience. Not a film I'd recommend to the parents, if you know what I mean.

When it was over, I had some of David Lynch's signature cup coffee, "black as midnight on a moonless night," and chatted with a friendly IFC regular. Then I saw another film I definitely won't be recommending to the parents.

Antichrist - I'd read a lot about Lars von Trier's film before going into it, but I still wasn't prepared for the effect it had on me. I haven't seen much of his previous work - actually, I've only seen Dancer in the Dark, which was too melodramatic and manipulative for me - but felt like I should be defensive before going into this one. After all, isn't he only trying to be provocative in order to get a response? After watching Antichrist, I would say "No." The film certainly has provocative, cringing moments, but I would say that they work in service to a larger thematic point. In my mind, the film is about death, not in the sense of the main characters coming to terms with the loss of their child, but in the sense of DEATH as the operating principle and factor behind NATURE (yes, in capitals). Plus the evil that inherently lurks within man and woman alike.

It's certainly a horror film, one that leaves you feeling disturbed. There's something about the juuuust slightly shaky camera, and the off-kilter jump cut editing, and the syrupy visuals of the surreal moments that raises anxiety in the viewer. You watch the film waiting for a jump-scare that never comes, and the effect puts you on edge. (There is one jump-scare in the infamous "Chaos reigns" scene - now immortalized in IFC t-shirts - and I would say, absurdly enough, that that scene is the one that goes too far over the top; I'm suddenly reminded of a friend admitting that the "Like a Virgin" scene in Moulin Rouge was a bit much for him in a movie he otherwise loved.) The scares here are more of the philosophical, life-is-cruel kind, in addition to moments of unsettling sexual violence - deeply, deeply unsettling.

That's all I got in me for today, kids. I hope your New Year's was extra special and gooey, and that each and every one of us marches forward into the future with the luck, dedication, and vision to realize our greatest dreams.