While I lauded “Control” in the previous post, we also caught “Get Smart” and “Baghead”.
June, in the run up to the 4th of July hot zone of movies, seems to go through a doldrums just as the air truly begins to stultify. Left few other choices, we saw “Get Smart”. It wasn’t especially bad, but it wasn’t especially good either. I had the same feeling I had when I caught “Evan, Almighty”.
I wanted Steve Carrell to do well, and I wanted it to be funny, it just, well, failed to deliver. Not even the cute Anne Hathaway in ( I am told ) Chanel could really keep me interested. Steve, my man, get you back to Apatow lest you be relegated to Shamalyan-dom.
In what shall serve as a wooden circus-tent stake through the heart of Indydom, the Duplass Brothers’ latest film “Baghead” was also seen, and was deemed to be just about the same as “Get Smart” ( take that, indie film hipster scum ).
It was one of those movies shot on the cheap that professes to be a send up of LA types by being an indie movie about LA types. At the end we’re supposed to feel smug and Sundance-y, but instead I thought it was needlessly self-obsessed, self-referential, and self-reverential. This proves yet once more that if you stick around long enough, you too will be the enemy you once raged against.
Here’s the plot. 4 people in LA leave self-congratulatory indie film festival and decide to make their own movie—for real, no fooling around. They go up to a cabin with a ton of booze ( always a great start for serrrious work ) and plenty of latent sexual tension. In the midst of writing a story about a murderous “man with a bag on his head” they are beset by, uhm, a murderous man with a bag on his head. Thanks to the IndyScope jostleCam and badMakeUpVision, we get motion sick as the adventure(?) plays exhaustingly out. At the end, guess what, LA people are rubes obsessed with their own promotion and will do anything to break out of the rank of anonymous extra-dom. I restrain myself from sighing.
Not biting satire, not particularly insightful, just kinda, boring, really. I’d rather watch other peoples’ vacation slides.
I thought this was a bit of a predictable gag, the Juno-fication of the myth of the superhero. Instead of doing the right thing ( or, freaking the-hell-out when teenage daughter is pregnant ), witticisms will abound and the surly pregnant-teen ( or, superhero ) will grow on you. The Jason Bateman factor seemed all but to ensure this.
But the other day I listened to the “In Our Time (Radio 4)” podcast with Melvyn Bragg on Kierkergaard and was reminded of the sheer terror and weight underlying the “Fear and Trembling” thesis and I thought: “How would you respond to the proposition if you were a superhero, that is, if you were objectively better than everyone else?
Coloring this thought is the masterful “Superman Scene” from the noir “Kill Bill II”.
As you know, I’m quite keen on comic books. Especially the ones about superheroes. I find the whole mythology surrounding superheroes fascinating.
Take my favorite superhero, Superman. Not a great comic book. Not particularly well-drawn. But the mythology… The mythology is not only great, it’s unique.
Now, a staple of the superhero mythology is, there’s the superhero and there’s the alter ego. Batman is actually Bruce Wayne, Spider-Man is actually Peter Parker. When that character wakes up in the morning, he’s Peter Parker. He has to put on a costume to become Spider-Man. And it is in that characteristic Superman stands alone.
Superman didn’t become Superman. Superman was born Superman. When Superman wakes up in the morning, he’s Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent. His outfit with the big red “S” - that’s the blanket he was wrapped in as a baby when the Kents found him. Those are his clothes. What Kent wears - the glasses, the business suit - that’s the costume. That’s the costume Superman wears to blend in with us.
Clark Kent is how Superman views us. And what are the characteristics of Clark Kent? He’s weak… He’s unsure of himself… He’s a coward.
Clark Kent is Superman’s critique on the whole human race.
If you were objectively stronger, faster, smarter, and in Hancock’s case, “Fresher” than the entire population of this pathetic planet of small-minded monkeys, how could you act with anything but contempt?
What is the ape to man? A laughingstock or a painful embarrassment. And man shall be just that for the overman: a laughingstock or a painful embarrassment. You have made your way from worm to man, and much in you is still worm. Once you were apes, and even now, too, man is more ape than any ape.
—Friederich Nietzche ( Kaufmann Transl. )
Just as Robinson Crusoe style adventurers come to accept the presence of the lesser creatures ( a helper-monkey, a parrot, etc. ), so the solitary superhero must accept the piddling company of sub-species companions against the deafening loneliness of being the last / the only / etc.
Wilson, a sub-species of companion
I should suppose the only rational emotions would be contempt for them and yourself, and as an emollient for the latter only copious amounts of booze would suffice.
Lauren and I took to calling that “eye klav-divs” towards the end of the series ( 13 episodes ). It’s an excellent mini-series, truly showing the capability of television to deliver high art, quality acting, and subtle direction to the masses.
Let all the poisons that lurk in the mud hatch out!
If you have the chance and want to be boggled at the astounding amount of treachery that members of the same family can visit upon one another, “I, Claudius” is a great tale. I loved Jacobi’s Claudius, he captures a vulnerability and fear through the first 10 episodes that inspire so much pathos and tenderness that you have to root for him all the way through — even when the necessities of his office drive him onto a path of corruption and bloodshed.
I also liked the amazing or impressionistic way the sets were designed. Being a mid-70’s BBC drama, the budget was assuredly tight, but with just a few paper-mâché effects of pillars we had no problem accepting “Ah, this is a palace” or “this is a desolate island cottage”.
Siân Phillips receives eternal praise as the scheming, murderous, materfamilias, Livia. Episodes without her lacked a certain punch and I can definitely see why De Laurentiis and Lynch cast her as the Reverend Mother Mohaim in “Dune”.
Listen here, Claud, er, Paul, I’ve got a little box for you…
It’s definitely worth a viewing if you have, uh, 13 hours for it.
Yes, that title is from a Radiohead song, which is meant to say that I saw their brilliant performance last week at the (mouthful) Cynthia Mitchell Woods Pavilion in Houston. I should write at length on the matter, but really, what is there to say about the act? You can find the setlist at ateaseweb.
They were punctual
They played two encores, which, is light of point #1, supra seems a bit indulgent
They were professional
They are English
They did not engage in mindless banter (“Hello HOUSTON, we’re Radiohead from the UK!”)
They did have a very well put together light show.
They are, in my estimation, likely to be the band, who like the Beatles, retains an interest in the hearts of the next generation
Come to think of it, those last two points are worth discussing.
The light show was terrific with a wide screen divided into 5 sections. In each section was a camera filming a band member or an activity. During certain songs, other light effects were overlain on the screen. They reminded me of some of the more experimental drawn-on-film animation that emerged in the early 20th century as part of the futurist or modernsist movements. Around and before the band hung tubing that contained lights that would vibrate with light in tune with the music.
The most powerful moment is when Thom sat at the piano and mugged it up, lazy-eyed and proud of it, while performing “You and What Army”: “Come on, Come on /
Holy Roman empire”
About the time I discovered that my parents’ generation had some stunning achievements in Music, I realized that thanks to the technology and fidelity of music technology of their day, and all days subsequent, music is now able to last, effectively forever. unlike acetone or wax recordings that degrade exponentially, the LP and the CD and now the MP3 are all, effectively indelible. Therefore generations of the future will be able to evaluate the musical tastes of the preceding generations in a way that has never before been seen.
I ask myself, what is the music that they will like of my generation. I can say that I think few songs are as sweet as the Allmans’ “Melissa” and there is the de rigeur appreciation of the Beatles and the Stones. So the question again returns, what if mine is worth paying attention to. I had always suspected that it was Nirvana that would make it across the inter-generational void, but now I don’t think so. I think that Nirvana will remain perpetually stuck in a formaldehyde bath ( I’m looking at you 101X ), and, to be fair, it just doesn’t seem as relevant now. In the sense that every band today owes their life to Nirvana, yes they seem relevant, but whose mood, whose words, whose lyrics are timeless?
In the years since I heard “The Bends” and “OK, Computer” their messages have grown more potent. I think, now, Radiohead will be the ones that transcend. I remember one day walking down a street in Holland and I checked out the newsstand and saw that some British music press mag asserted in their list of the top 50 British albums ever that Radiohead’s “OK, Computer” was atop the White Album, “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars”, T. Rex’s “The Slider” and I thought it was pure anathema. Well, I’m still not sure if it’s #1, but it’s definitely in the top 5. I hope that some day I’ll be able to say…
Me: “Wow, huh, that was from Radiohead’s “In Ranbows” right? Funny thing, that was a record they released on the internet first.” Disbelieving Kids: First compared to what? Me: Uh, nevermind. Yeah, we went and saw them live. Disbelieving Kids: You (you tragic old dinosaur) saw Radiohead…live?
“Pamela will be an artistically rich and visually stunning series,” executive producer Randy Barbato said in a statement. “The series will offer an unprecedented look inside the life of one of today’s most iconic superstars in the style of a uniquely shot documentary film.”
While the series, as announced, promises to let viewers meet “the real woman behind the famous breasts,” it will draw a big line, and will not feature her and ex-husband Tommy Lee’s two children.
Rachel McAdams starred in the “The Notebook”. This movie is the staple of “Girls’ Nights In” everywhere.
Later this year she will star as Clare Abshire in The Time Traveler’s Wife, based off of Audrey Nifenegger’s superlatively good novel.
Will she, in but a few years, seize the “weepy” crowns that have, for so long, remained firmly in the treasure-houses of Ali McGraw and Barbara Streisand?
The League of Melbotis did a 10 point listing of ladies of the 90’s media he “once dug”. For the record, when men are left alone, they pretty much do this as their primary hobby of choice. Frequently sports is used as subterfuge so that we can have some space in which to play this game, but essentially, it’s the national pasttime.
Gillian Anderson as Dana Scully.
Dana Scully: Hot, Red Haired, Didn’t mind finding Mulder’s uh, “videos” on occasion. A babe who gave hope to those of us at home on Friday night watching X-Files and dialing BBS’. As I noted on The League’s site, Ms. Anderson is a very un-compelling interviewee - heck that guy that made the beer-catapulting robot was a more coherent interview, or even Madonna in the “you don’t pee-pee in the shower” bit.
Nevertheless, Seasons 2 and 3 right as “the mythos” got going were very, very awesome.
Amanda Pays
Eh. I liked her in Max Hedroom, but that’s mostly because of her clean, crisp diction.
Michelle Yeoh
Not so hot in the 90’s, more hot in the naughts, but I see where he’s going and I’ll never say a word against a woman whose pinky is a registered implement of death.
Lovely Lady Miss Kier
She can dance.
Marcia Gay Harden
Eh, a wise-cracking moll is always kinda hot, but…hotter in the naughts. And what’s up with her hair! She stole it from Flat-Top.
As I’ve mentioned Madonna and Flattop in one entry, I saw an interview with Madonna where she said that it was hard for her to “act” (quotes mine) in Dick Tracy because her role required her to give a “bad performance”, something she simply couldn’t do naturally. Hubris, pure hubris.
Claudia Cardinale
In the galaxy of Hotula, orbiting babia majora, is Claudia Cardinale. Well done, sir.
In edition two, The League kicked it up a notch.
Sherilyn Fenn
The year was 1989. Batman came out. My friend Matt’s parents were into “Twin Peaks”. I saw Sherilyn Fenn. While the NES Advantage had a great deal of my attention, Ms. Fenn was hot like sweaters and bobby-socks hot, in a way that would presage my affection for the girls of Thee Parkside in San Francisco with Betty Page cuts, and Betty Page in general.
Hot, sweaters, and longer skirts with a mischievous twinkle. Fenn-tastic!
Something about the saddle Oxfords and Badlamenti’s orchestrations chasing a character about that make her much hotter. Speaking of…
Laura Dern
Eh. Like I said, the strains of Badlamenti following you about can’t hurt. I see where the League was going with this whole rough and fast thing ( a la Hamilton in Terminator 2 ), but….
Kim Deal ( Or Kelly Deal?)
I was way into The Breeders and The Pixies, the Breeders more so. I dug “Cannonball” and “Divine Hammer”, I’m sorry for inflicting that so much on The Social B. The interesting part about Kim is her sister Kelly who was also in the band. While I’m no Bud Light “..and twins” kinda guy, The Deals both had a full house in the guitar talent department and drug abuse department.
In any case, Kim is sorta like that girl in your math class who one day off-handedly says “Yeah my bass needs a tune up some dude knocked it over at Zelda’s the other night…” and then you find out she can play “Debaser” and you’re like. Wow, “all this time I thought you were just marking time until graduation like me, but you were doing something much cooler than I was, i shoulda asked you out before i was all intimidated”.
Patricia Arquette
Seeing “True Romance” was a revelation for me. It was to launch the ship called Quentin Tarantino ( sale of this movie’s rights financed “Pulp Fiction”). It was funny, it had Val Kilmer as Elvis, a stunning tete-a-tete between master of the craft Gary Oldman and Christian Slater and…well…a hot, sassy, and voluptuous hooker named Alabama who “tasted like a peach” ( confirmed by two generations of Whorley ).
And what about the Walken / Hopper discourse about Sicilians? Man that was IN-TENSE.
Oh, right Alabama. Well, Hot, Hot, Hot. Trashy outfits and a Southern lilt never worked so well.
And I never looked at phone booths the same way again.
Siouxsie
She’s one of the greatest artists ever. Knowing her increases your odds by 100% of being mopey, British, and wealthy in 2008.
She’s a relentless artist, never gave up anything for who she was, has a great smile and, despite the look, you just know she abides by that one for the kettle rule of making tea, she’s that British, OK?
I admit, some of her music was hard for me to get when I was in high school or junior high, but now her insight and risks continue to surprise me…all the more because the music today is so unbelievably processed and contrived. Hats off to you Siouxsie, and if you’re imagining a hat I want you to imagine it a short sort of funerary pill box hat with a veil…
