My Bad Movie

N.B: there is a movie spoiler ahead. Go on and read anyway, I'm doing you a favor.

I usually enjoy the Sportsguy's writing, but occasionally he leaves me scratching my head:

Good one. That reminds me, does anyone else love DeNiro's new commercial for American Express? Every time it comes on, I'm absolutely transfixed. My oldest friend ... my east ... my west side ... my private side ... (gulp) ... my heartbreak ... (big gulp) ... my heartbeat ... my life happens here ... my card is American Express.

Huh? Everytime it comes on I'm thinking what an old whore or is he that kinda broke?

But hey, maybe I'm just bitter from having suffered through Mr. DeNiro's latest film, the monumentally awful Hide and Seek. Not amusingly awful, where you can laugh at how bad the movie is, but ammoyingly awful, where you squirm in aggravation at having paid to get to see the movie. The only tolerable moments of Hide and Seek featured a very fetching Elisabeth Shue. Invariably clad in a low-cut summer dress of some sort (despite the movie taking place in winter) and knee-high boots, she passed through the film without any discernable effect on the plot or other characters, ultimately serving only to A) brighten Hide and Seek with shots of her legs and cleavage and B) scream real pretty when she was expelled from a second floor window.

Going Boldly

Set phasers for titillate.

(From this very interesting site, produced by a search inspired by this post.)

Quotations

Some things are so preposterous that only an intellectual could believe them - no ordinary person could be so stupid.
-George Orwell

The above has long been one of my favorite quotes, a truly useful aphorism to keep in mind when one reads drivel like this:

As to those in the World Trade Center . . .
Well, really. Let's get a grip here, shall we? True enough, they were civilians of a sort. But innocent? Gimme a break. They formed a technocratic corps at the very heart of America's global financial empire – the "mighty engine of profit" to which the military dimension of U.S. policy has always been enslaved – and they did so both willingly and knowingly. Recourse to "ignorance" – a derivative, after all, of the word "ignore" – counts as less than an excuse among this relatively well-educated elite. To the extent that any of them were unaware of the costs and consequences to others of what they were involved in – and in many cases excelling at – it was because of their absolute refusal to see. More likely, it was because they were too busy braying, incessantly and self-importantly, into their cell phones, arranging power lunches and stock transactions, each of which translated, conveniently out of sight, mind and smelling distance, into the starved and rotting flesh of infants. If there was a better, more effective, or in fact any other way of visiting some penalty befitting their participation upon the little Eichmanns inhabiting the sterile sanctuary of the twin towers, I'd really be interested in hearing about it.

The creature who penned the above screed is one Ward Churchill, a faculty member at the University of Colorado. If you have a strong tolerance for dogmatic stupidity you can read the rest of his piece, but it's typical leftist swill that you've probably heard before: America evil blah blah blah United States imperialist blah blah. In short, the kind of nonsense only an idiot could believe or a monstrous hypocrite would spout.

But common sense, and things like logic and critical thinking have entirely vanished from academia:

America's homegrown critics hold the peculiar conviction that if hatred of the sort that led to the destruction of the World Trade Center is directed at the United States, there must be good and justifiable reason for it. Yet these same critics never seem to take such a position in regard to victims of other hate crimes. Many of those habitually critical of this society (and claiming a desire to "understand" why it is hated while simultaneously believing that such a hatred is fully justified) support severe punishment for hate crimes without seeking to understand the grievances and resentments that produce them. They do not ask what battered women have done to justify their mistreatment, or what it is in the behavior of homosexuals or blacks that stimulates virulent hatred. Nor do they seek to "understand" or to plumb the "root causes" behind the actions of the wife beater or those who assault or murder gays... It is only when people have some sympathy with the violent act and its perpetrator that they start looking for root causes, to understand the aggressor and something in the behavior or attitude of the victim that shifts at least some of the responsibility from victimizer to victim.
-Paul Hollander, Prof. Emeritus of Sociology, Univ. of Massachusetts

Be Afraid

Sifting through Retrocrush's 100 Scariest Movie Moments I've found two that truly do horrify me.

First - the wheelchair from the The Changeling. Note - I've never actually seen this film, the commerical was scary enough.

And there is this, which I will not even name. One of many very unsettling moments from the The Shining. So many unsettling moments, in fact, that I felt obliged to check the closets and corners of the apartment for unwelcome guests, my Wade Boggs Louisville Slugger in hand.

The Wages of Sin...

..are death. Or savage mockery.

Consider the Bunny, who recently saw fit to mock my notions of how a proper castle should be run. It was a brutal and unprovoked attack, and cut me to the quick.

And yet... could Bunny be the unidentified friend mentioned here?

I was supposed to see one of my friends but 5. he’s a-scared of 4 inches of snow.

Oh, for shame! And oh how the mighty have fallen. Once the Bunny roamed the frozen wastes of the Greater Quincy area and neither rain nor sleet nor snow would keep him from his appointed rounds. Now he quivers in fear at the thought of a mere four inches of snow.

The Land of Pleasant Living has made you soft and weak, oh fretful Bunny. You must be... corrected.

I will be heading south in due time, to purge you of wrongful thinking, and make sure you are not capering about the streets of Annapolis clad in a sundress and sandals.

Mostly

Mostly we're cranky and out-of-sorts, ill at ease in our own skins.

Mostly.

A Man's Home

Boy do I wish I had an ancestral manse like this...

Yet the castle remains as romantic as ever, perfectly reflected in the still waters of a moat which laps the walls as closely as a Venetian canal. Shirburn in Oxfordshire, at the foot of the Chiltern hills, is like Bodiam in Kent: square and symmetrical with circular towers at the corners and built when French invasion threatened in the 1370s and 1380s. Like the best medieval castles it can be entered only by means of a drawbridge.

...because you just know I'd have the drawbridge up all the time, and whenever my friends came over I wouldn't let the drawbridge down unless they asked for the Lord of the Manor, and requested admittance in some faux Shakespearian medieval kinda way of speaking, and they'd probably be all like "c'mon Dan this is lame just let us in" and I'd say "Avast there thou rump-fed ronyon" which is more a Shakespearian pirate kind of way of speaking than Shakespearian medieval, but you get the idea. And they'd give in and say that they "craved a parley" and I'd let them in and we'd all have a good laugh.

But you know, if I was feeling kinda blue, I might just look over the battlements when they knocked on the drawbridge and say "dude did you bring any beer" and they'd say "yeah" or just hold up the case so I could see it. And I'd let them in and we'd hang out and play some GTA4: San Andreas cause I found the easter egg that allows for two players.

Or maybe we'd watch a DVD. Who knows? There's probably a lot of things to do if you live in a castle.

Day in the Life

And in an abrupt turn of events, I find myself single once again. The hearts of single women everywhere beat just a little bit faster.

Okay, okay I'm exaggerating. Only one of the above statements is true.

Emptying the In Box

Once in a while I do regret my lack of cable. Tonight for example, I'll miss the premiere of the new Battlestar Galactica series.

Did I tell you to read this blog already? Too too funny - now it's going on the blogroll.

A top ten list for 2004 you may not have seen yet.

The Invisible Library.

Cause For Concern

Occasionally a lack of firearms becomes a source of worry. If Quincy is ever overrun by a plague* of zombies, I would be at a serious disadvantage.

*I'm familiar with such usages as a murder of crows or an exaltation of larks, but what is the proper term for referring to a multitude of flesh-eating zombies?

Growing Up 56

Not surprisingly, there are those who are startled by my lack of exposure to Little House on the Prairie. Let me explain by simply saying that I was a channel 56 kid.

Channel 56 was the main UHF channel in the greater Boston area. During the late 70s and early 80s this station provided three vital services for children of my generation....

1. After School Cartoons - In those days every TV station (or so it seemed) played cartoons on Saturday morning, but channel 56 was your destination for weekday afternoon cartoons. Sure, they were lame cartoons, like Mighty Mouse, but at least you'd get your cartoon fix, to hold you over until the sacred hours of Saturday AM.

2.Creature Double Feature - All the Japanese monster movies you could ever ask for, from Attack of the Mushroom People to Godzilla vs MechaGodzilla. I loved these movies, adored them, and a showing of a film like Destroy All Monsters, which featured ALL the noteworthy monsters (Rodan, Mothra, King Ghidorah) was an occasion for much rejoicing.

(Special geek note: I was so enamored of these films, that when none were available I'd 'create' my own by drawing elaborate scenes of battle between Godzilla and a variety of opponents.)

3. Syndication Central - Channel 56 was were old shows went to live on in eternal syndication. The main reason I never saw Little House is that it wasn't on channel 56. However, I did spend endless hours watching the following shows:

Happy Days - I think I saw every single one, from the season with Richie's big brother who mysteriously vanished to Richie's wedding via phone. I preferred the original Arnold.
Laverne and Shirley - My all-time favorite sitcom. I still cannot believe that Milly-wah-kay does not have a museum or something dedicated to this show. I still love the patented Lenny and Squiggy entrance - somebody mentions something squalid or disgusting, the door pops open, "Hello!"

Off the top of my head, I only know the first verse of the Laverne and Shirley theme song.
Alice - Did Alice have a theme sing? I can't remember.
Facts of Life - I liked the original cast, which included Molly Ringwald. I pretty much lost interest when the focus shifted entirely to Blair, Jo, Tootie and the other girl.

As a result of this program, I still think chicks in plaid skirts are hot. I doubt TV warped my moral compass, but it definitely did something to me.
Good Times - I still know the theme song to this show by heart. I may just sing it to you after a few beers.
Three's Company- Is this not the stupidest show ever? Yet I tuned in, repeatedly. To watch endless variations of the exact same plot: somebody overhears something, mistakenly assigns a sexual meaning to what is overheard, hilarity ensues, John Ritter does a pratfall at some point. Roll credits.

Mystery of the Day

Despite being born in 1970, I have somehow managed to live 34 plus years without ever seeing a single episode of Little House on the Prairie, despite growing up during the height of that show's popularity.

Photograph

Heather has her photo album up and running, with more snaps of the New Years' Eve and the weekend in Annapolis.

Obligatory Standardized Guilty Pleasures Post

I came across this meme at the Llama Butchers; others have picked it up as well.

Book I read flat so no one could see the title:
I don't think I've ever gone so far as to hide a book, but I do feel a frisson of shame every time I pick up Tom Clancy's latest.
Crappiest song ever sung at karaoke:
I don't do karaoke. But as I've written here before, and others will attest, I do a mean version of Tomorrow from Annie. Seriously, I fuckin' own that song.
Bad movie I watch repeatedly:
Oh my. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. I could write a book on this one, mmkay? Because it's like this: if I happen to come across, say, Less Than Zero, then unless I have pressing (and I mean life or death pressing) matters to attend to, I'm glued to the screen. I mean Jami Gertz and Andrew McCarthy and James Spader and Robert Downey? Set Cheese factor for ten, Ensign Eighties. Or even better - The Last Dinosaur. A showing of The Last Dinosaur is an occasion for friends and family to come together and revel in the sheer badness of this film.

So you can see, I loves me some bad movies. I am the guy who argues - loudly and at great length - with the Bunny over which is the better film: Cannonball Run or Smokey and the Bandit. (The correct answer is, of course, Smokey and the Bandit.) But if by 'watch repeatedly' you mean 'own on DVD' I'd have to go with Red Dawn. First of all, this film stars the Swayze - pretty a much a guarantee of bad movie goodness. Second, it is the ur-movie of the 80s, combining Bratpack celebrities and cold war paranoia. Third, well.. did I mention it has the Swayze? Who incidentally deserves some sort of lifetime achievement award for bringing to life so many good bad films. Next of Kin, Roadhouse, Dirty Dancing, and the afore-mentioned Red Dawn - this is a Hall o' Fame list folks, and we all owe the Swayze much gratitude for te hours of viewing pleasure provided by these films.
What I order at the bar when no one is listening:
I order what I damn well please. Like the Fonz and his inability to say the words 'wrong' or 'sorry,' I cannot work the words 'shame' or 'drink' or 'bar' into the same sentence.
A TV show that is a good example of the downfall of civilization that I love anyway:
At the risk of sounding like a snob, I don't watch TV. That's not to say I don't watch any TV shows - I simply watch 'em on DVD. Now, I don't know if it marked the downfall of civilization, but the end of the run of Battlestar Galactica certainly marked the downfall of sci-fi on prime-time, Big Three television. Fortunately for me, I have the entire original series on DVD and oh! the joys this has brought me.

More Oh the Humanity.

Red has been busy posting a series of pictures that are... Indescribable. Unspeakable.

Take a look. If you dare. This one made me cry. THIS ONE made baby Jesus cry.

Loose Ends

Here's the rest of the book list from 2005. At some point, brief reviews of the listed titles will follow.

78. Sharpe's Prey - Bernard Cornwell
79. Crazy Horse - Larry McMurtry
80.Winston Churchill - John Keegan
81. The Light Fantastic - Terry Pratchett
82. J.R.R. Tolkien: Author of the Century - T.A. Shippey
83. The Archer's Tale - Bernard Cornwell
84. Vagabond - Bernard Cornwell
85. The Dante Club - Matthew Pearl
86. Heretic - Bernard Cornwell
87. Wellington: The Years of the Sword - Elizabeth Longford
88. The Knight - Gene Wolf
89. The First World War - Hew Strachan
90. Off to the Side: A Memoir - Jim Harrison
91. The Far Side of the Stars - David Drake

Oh the Humanity

Submitted for your consideration: I read the comics so you don't have to, a site where the author devles into the comedic wasteland that is the funny pages. Looking for some insight into Apartment 3-G? Look no further:

Who says Apartment 3-G is slow-moving and boring? Well, most people do, actually, but today’s strip is out to prove them wrong! Note the Sam Raimi-style camera swoop around Eldon and his nemesis over the course of these three panels as Mr. Eldon is subjected to FBI Pete’s brutal, post-Alberto Gonzales interrogation. At least I think that’s what’s happening. Maybe the last panel just got flipped over during the compositing process. But I like to give ‘em the benefit of the doubt. Though doing so means that we have to accept that this interrogation room has identical doors on opposite walls.

In yesterday’s strip, Eldon attempted to get Pete’s goat by implying that Margo was a high-priced whore. As if Pete would believe that! Oh, wait.

This site is brilliant. It covers the very dregs of the comics, the comics that make you scratch your head and say 'who the hell reads this shite?' or 'who finds this funny?' The unfunniest of the unfunny are there, from B.C. to Rex Morgan M.D..

Perhaps there will be some consideration of the mystery of the identity of The Wizard of Id.

Here Be Dragons

Often, when the world has been too much with me, I have pondered the benefits of pretending my demise, as was done by the former Royal Alchemist the Baronet Sir Horace Twiddle-Chokesbottom, or the reknowned minstrel James Morrison.

Until now I was only deterred by a lack of the proper means, but I believe I have surmounted that problem in a suitable fashion. I shall vanish from the broad boulevards and warmly-lit drawing rooms of Quincy society in the aftermath of a zeppelin incident. Yes, HMAS Resolute will encounter mechanical difficulties two days into the Northern Passage, and when the smoke has cleared the stewards shall note that I have disappeared from my cabin.

But fear not! I shall return, in an equally dramatic fashion! My sudden re-appearance shall be marked by the publication of my very own penny dreadful, recounting my adventures while absent from civilization. Stranded in the frozen wastes of Ultima Thule! With only my faithful batman Wilkers and my trusty Webley revolver to rely on!

No doubt the novel will be a smashing sucess, allowing me to retire to a wastrel existence of whiskey bottles, card games and debauched women.

Return of the Prodigal

So, how long has it been since I've posted? Well I do have an excuse. I was away and then I was sick. But I do have much to speak of today, albeit in brief.

Bunny's New Year's Gala? Beyond saying it was fun I'm not quite sure how to describe the whole thing. I mean really, the man covered every single surface, appliance and object in his kitchen in tinfoil. This silvery wonderland stood in direct contrast to the abject blackness of the living room, lit only by constellations under the black light. And I make no mention of the full bar in the back yard (the Red Baron) and the martini bar on the third floor.

So, um, yeah, we had fun. And as Heather's snaps show, we looked damn sharp. We also met the lovely and charming whisky pants, who was in attendance with her DC crew. She claimed there were six of 'em, but I only met the Alabama Slammer and the Multi Cultural Spitfire. Saturday and Sunday hangover recovery was held at Middleton's Tavern (where Heather's CS discovered the joys of $0.95 oyster shooters) and overall I think the first time visitors left with a pretty good grasp of the places the Bunny and I frequent in NapTown. As always, it was fun too catch up with the Castlebay crew and other Annapolis folk: Garrett, Ronan, Will, G-Money, Jason n' Kristen, Clark and lots of other folks I'll remember later.

That nasty cold bug making the rounds finally caught up with me and laid me low for a couple for days this week. On the down side, I still have the vague feeling of having been thoroughly worked over with a Louisville Slugger. On the plus side, if you can get past the whole feeling physically wretched thing, there's much to do when you're sick. Such as...

...reading. This was the first chance I really had to delve into Bodyguard of Lies: The Extraordinary True Story Behind D-Day by Anthony Cave Brown. Offhand I can't think of any bloggers who are espionage geeks besides CW (and his area of interest seems to be Elizabethan England, not WWII), but I'd recommend this book to anyone. Is truth stranger than fiction? Well, when the truth involves Nazi spies, the Count de Almasy (the basis for Ralph Fiennes' character in The English Patient and also a Nazi agent), Anwar Sadat, the Muslim Brotherhood and a plot to end British rule in Egypt, truth is definitely stranger than fiction. And keep in mind, the above is only a brief episode in the secret war described in Bodyguard of Lies - there's much more historical weirdness where that tidbit came from.

Naturally I spent some hours leaning back in the easy chair, remote(s) in hand, with some new DVDs. For Christmas, Heather gave me the three-DVD set of the first 100 Strongbad emails from homestarruner. Wholesome comic goodness - my personal favorites are techno, dragon, marzipan, guitars, and stunt double. Go check 'em out yourself.

I also watched the first two episodes of the 1979 mini-series Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy starring Sir Alec Guinness as Smiley. It's excellent - so much so that I've already added the 1982 follow-up Smiley's People. I imagine that for most people of my generation - say those between the ages of 6 and 10 in 1977 when Star Wars hit the theaters - the enduring image, or memory, of Sir Alec Guinness, is his role as Ben Kenobi. And I can't help but imagine but the poor man somehow found this either distressing, or amusing, or both, considering the extraordinary body of work he created over a life time. Alec Guiness in Star Wars? That's comparable to the head chef from a Michelin Four Star slinging fries on the midnight-to-eight shift at the local IHOP. That's how much better he was than anyone else in any of the Star Wars films.

Much to my shame I did not quite realize the man's talent until I watched Tinker, Tailor... , since besides a long-ago viewing of Bridge on the River Kwai I hadn't taken in much of Guinness'' work. I know little or nothing about acting, the craft of acting, how actors go about bringing their roles to life. But there was one scene in Tinker, Tailor... that left me absolutely awestruck.

In the beginning of the production the viewers are introduced to Smiley. We learn that he was a spy - high-ranking member of an intelligence service referred to as 'the Circus' - and that he has been forcibly retired. We also see hints of marital problems - his wife's absence is frequently commented on. Most importantly, we learn that Smiley is some what a shell of his former self, a broken man, or at least a man in the process of breaking. We learn this not through expository dialogue - so far (i.e. through the first two episodes) Guinness-as-Smiley has had a minimal amount of dialogue - but through the way the man moves. Smiley shuffles down the street, haltingly, as if his body is no longer completely under his control , and he lacks the energy, or the simple desire, to bring it back under his command.

Without giving too much away, let me simply say that Smiley is called out of retirement to consult on a certain manner. During this consultation he interviews and questions an agent who has 'come in from the cold' and we see an abrupt transformation in Smiley's demeanor. Stopping the interview, Smiley breaks eye contact with the camera, dips his head slightly forward, dons a pair of glasses, and lifts his chin back up to make direct eye contact with the camera, which is shooting from the interviewee's point of view. (And I'm sure there's a technical film term for that but I have no idea what it is).

When Smiley resumes looking at the camera - at the man he is questioning - he is an entirely different man. No longer broken, or hesitant, or doddering, Smiley is now in charge. He is menacing, in complete control, not only of himself but the situation around him.

All from a single, brief look at the camera and the thing is, I have no idea how Sir Alec Guinness did it. There's no obvious dramatic gesture or line to scream out at the viewer "Here comes the transformation! Pay attention now! Smiley is now top dog!" Hell, I can't even remember if there's a score to that scene, so it wasn't done with a musical cue. Somehow in that one shot Guinness is convey to the camera, to project to the viewer on some visceral level that Smiley is not all who we though he was up to this point. One glance shatters the image of the broken old man and replaces with it something else entirely - some who is cold, calculating, ruthless... just plain dangerous.

Like I said, I have no idea how Guinness did it. But it was magic to watch.