I Thought Yesterday Already Happened

Sunshine and Candy Bars

2010-04-22T11:48:00.000-07:00

The American dream is predicated on the concept that determination and true grit will eventually allow for success. Those of us who have found ourselves in the deep quagmire of desperation, clinging tightly to that fading glimmer of hope know just how difficult tenacity and consistency can be to maintain. I have to be honest. I was really beginning to feel that this holding pattern of career diversion was becoming more and more permanent. Thanks to some great opportunities that have arisen this week, I can say that, for the first time in a while, I'm beginning to feel like my career may be taking off again. This is an exceptionally exciting feeling. Should things continue down this path, I hope to be sharing some good news with those of you who have been faithfully reading these intermittent posts.
And now, on to the reviews!

51.) BE COOL
The sequal to Get Shorty, is more fun, more outrageous, and even more entertaining than its' predecessor. Chili Palmer (John Travolta oozing in his Scientological best) is still in L.A. He's made headway into the film world, and now he wants to turn his Shylock skills to the music industry and help a young artist (played delightfully and beautifully by Christina Milian) break her contract with a scheming manager. Extra kudos go to Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson and Vince Vaughn for taking on such absurdly over-the-top characters and imbuing them with sheer comic brutality. The Rock plays a body guard of questionable sexuality that would rather croon country songs than bash heads. Vaughn plays a record exec who has co-opted Black Culture so far as to make a serious claim for pretender of the century. If you can overlook Uma Thurman (which is generally considered the best way of dealing with her performances) then you are in for a wonderful treat. Pay extra close attention to the special features which shows the complete, and un-cut music video starring The Rock.

52.) BEFORE THE DEVIL KNOWS YOU'RE DEAD
Sidney Lumet is a phenomenal filmmaker. This convoluted suspense drama is a fine example of his skill and acumen behind the camera. Filled with a fine ensemble cast featuring outstanding performances by Philip Seymour Hoffman, Marisa Tomei, Ethan Hawke, Albert Finney, and Rosemary Harris, this is sure to keep you riveted for the full 117 minutes. Two brothers (Hawke and Hoffman) find themselves in severe financial straights: one sees his alimony and child support bills mounting up, the other has let his drug habit catch up to him. They decide to plan a jewel heist at a Mom and Pop jewelry store. The ironic twist is that the store belongs to their parents (Finney and Harris). When the deal goes horribly wrong, the two sees their plans go spiralling into worse and worse situations. I was genuinely impressed with this film, constantly guessing as to how this would all play out. Very much worth your while.

53.) THE BELIEVER
Prior to watching this movie, I counted American History X as the greatest achievement in films dealing with the concept of tolerance. No more. Ryan Gosling is absolutely brilliant as a Jewish anti-semite. His daily struggle with hiding his identity and past, while pursuing a life in the modern Nazi movement is handled with no self-mockery, and with a genuine unbiased truth. What astounded me more than the story, which was very powerful, was just how smart this movie really was. I remember watching Crash, and having a "well, duh!" reaction to the message of "we should really try to get along". With this movie, the message was just as simple and straight forward, but it never shied away from the true complexities that make us unique and deep human beings. Though I found the ending to be a little too "art-y" for my taste, I was blown away by just how gripping this drama really was.

54.) BEN X
Wow! This Flemish import indie was quite an edgy and powerful piece of cinema. Ben is a teenager dealing with the effects of Autism. The one true joy he has is the online gaming world where he can live out exciting adventures that are a far cry from his tortured existence in high school. He is constantly harassed and abused by bullies, so he eventually can take no more. He is aided by a beautiful girl who recogizes his struggle and the two of them formulate a plan to get revenge for their actions. There are a few scenes that are tough to watch. The bullying and mistreatment that Ben suffers will definitely tug at your heartstrings, but the redemption he acheives by the film's end is quite rewarding. Made in Belgium, the language barrier is broken when you see the hurt and depth in the eyes of an extrordinary actor. Please watch this movie.

55.)BEOWULF & GRENDEL
Well, my good fortune with great movies was bound to be short-lived. Next on the shelf was this waste of a perfectly good piece of plastic. Though it tries to be as accurate to the period as possible (including a cast of actors with Norse names that are impossible to type), it seriously falls short in the execution. The Vikings in the Capitol One commercials seem more authentic than this band of also-rans. Starring Gerard Butler who growls and crunches his way through the sub-standard text. Trying to create a bit of realism (which is certainly what the Old English epic needed), Grendel is characterized as a giant, bearded simpleton, who sleeps with a witch (the odd-cap Sarah Polley) and pummels Hrothgar's men because they killed his father when he was a bearded child. So, basically this is a revenge tale, without bothering to worry itself with those pesky little details like plot, and motivation, and decent storytelling. English students, do not watch this place of doing your required reading.

56.) BESIEGED
Not all that glitters is gold. Not ever Bertolucci film is an epic masterpiece. This snoozer tells the awkward love story of an African fugitive (Thandie Newton) and an eccentric musician (David Thewlis) both eking out a life in Rome. Though the visuals are stunning, the content is...not so much. Thewlis' Mr. Kinsky owns a large Roman villa, inherited from a deceased aunt. He hires medical student Shandurai to clean his house. Eventually (through means that are not made clear) he falls madly in love with her. The rest of the film becomes more of a journal entry than a plot. Shandurai's husband has been imprisoned by the brutal regime that has taken over her homeland. Once again, failing to accurately explain how, he is scheduled to be released and come to his wife in Rome. Spoiler alert!: the ending doesn't make a lick of sense! Billed as an erotic thriller, I found two things wrong with that advertisement.

57.) THE BEVERLY HILLBILLIES
This movie-version of the sitcom is silly, outrageous, and terrible. All that said, it's kind of entertaining. Jim Varney (God rest his denim soul) stars as Jed Clampett alongside Diedrich Bader and Cloris Leachman as Jethro and Granny, respectively. To be perfectly honest, if you can step away from the forced comedy, the stars put on quite a performance that is very enjoyable. Dabney Coleman is in his element as the harried Mr. Drysedale. Lily Tomlin is her constant warm self. The only dry spots in this sea of fun are the appearance of Rob Schneider and Lea Thompson as a scheming couple aiming to con the Clampetts out of their billions. Most of the jokes are fairly predictable, but there are a few golden hums that manage to elicit some genuine belly laughs. Take a chance on this one, and you won't regret it.

58.) BEVERLY HILLS NINJA
The comedy world lost a great talent the day that Chris Farley died. Though his work in Tommy Boy, Black Sheep and cameos in Billy Madison, and Dirty Work are superior examples of his extreme talent, this fun little movie is certainly not an injustice to his memory. Washing ashore in Japan, Farley's character, Haru, is mistaken for the mythic 'Great White Ninja' who is fabled to rise. Trained in the arts of ninjitsu, he never quite grasps the physicality of the methods, though he is well-learned in the spirituality. He gets embroiled in a mission for a beautiful American (Nicollette Sheridan) to uncover a counterfeiting scheme. He teams up with an underused Chris Rock, and the shenanigans are plenteous. Like most of his fish-out-of-water characters, this man-child is blissfully unaware of his own differences. He embraces the world around him like a fresh-faced youth. While not his best work, even Chris Farley's b-material is better than many of today's comics' A+ stuff.

59.) BEYOND THERAPY
The stage version of Christopher Durang's hit comedy is a winner. This dry attempt (fumbled through the fingers of the usually capable Robert Altman) is rather bland an boring. Despite having Julie Haggerty, Jeff Goldblum, and Christopher Guest, the film falls very flat in a most desperate and awkward way. To be perfectly honest, the comedy was virtually non-existent. The performances were ad libbed, and the overall feel was too blah to generate any interest whatsoever. This is quite a shame as the stage play is generally pretty entertaining. Jeff Goldblum's performance is all over the place, Christopher Guest plays effiminate without finding any real nuances. Julie Haggerty is frumpy mess. I think that the best way to deal with this movie is accepting that it is a failed experiment in attempting to blend realism with outrageous comedy. The result is just one long awkward and uncomfortable feeling.

60.) BHAJI ON THE BEACH
They say you should never judge a book by its' cover. You can, however, judge a DVD by its' cover. This little oddity is boxed like an imported bootleg. There are rampant misspellings and grammatical errors galore. What is contained inside is difficult to really describe. Apparently this was made for BBC television in the early 1990's, but it could easily have been an awkward MTV films production. This "life journey" tells the story of a group of Indian women making a daytrip to the beach town of Blackpool. There, each of them faces their own personal challenges that cause them to learn and grow, and accept who they are. While I'm not necessarily versed in traditional Indian culture, I do understand some of the underlying themes of racism, class struggle, and the need to rise above your situation. These are the issues that these women face, and all with the Lifetime Movie feel that makes their struggle more fun when paired with catchy music. If this were chronicling American women, there would be a montage of dancing to Motown music. Instead, these women end up at a male stripper revue. I'm sure it's lost in the translation.

There are many reasons that I find to celebrate the joys of life. Thankfully, SVC will be making her way to town in less than a month. The projects that I am blessed to be a part of seem to be blossoming into fruitful ventures.This is a good thing.

Heartburn: It's What's For Dinner.

2010-04-16T13:23:00.000-07:00

Here I sit in a meat-induced coma, trying to rectify the week that was. Last night was meatloaf night. This means that a meat log weighing roughly the same as George Foreman before he began pressing his burgers was on the menu. Also on the menu: potatoes. Yes, meat and potatoes! There is something beautifully American about dining on this simple and traditional combination. For my meatloaf: a pound of ground sirloin, a pound of ground sausage, garlic, purple onion, parmesan cheese, a litany of spices, and topped with thick-sliced bacon. My roommate drew similarities to the "Bacon Burger Dog" recipe. Though he was right in some ways, I was able to finish this meal with temporarily going blind or experiencing symptoms of ephasia.
It's been 16 hours, and I'm still not hungry. So, I thought I'd update some more reviews. For those of you paying close attention, you'll notice that there are now Amazon.com links next to each film.Should you feel so inspired as to purchase any (or all) of the movies reviewed on this blog, then you will be helping this little writer out.

44.) BARBERSHOP
I think that Ice Cube makes some pretty good choices in films on which he puts his name. With the same tone found in one of my personal favorites, Friday, he exhibits a great blend of hilariously inappropriate comedy mixed with heart and true feeling. Set in a neighborhood Barbershop in Southside Chicago, this "day-in-the-life" tale is both a slice of life, and a commentary on black men in America. What's especially refreshing is that while the movie does fall prey to victimizing some racial stereotypes, it also takes a few opportunities to bridge the gap and make a few powerful statements that must elicit a feeling of pride in anyone who watches this, regardless of skin color. Cedric The Entertainer is brilliantly funny. Hidden beneath some subtle age make-up and a blatantly ridiculous wig, he creates a man who has been in the barber business for a long time, and refuses to see it as anything other than true art. This work ethic is inspiring. Anthony Anderson also turns in rather humerous take as a thief who seems to be having the worst day of his career. I highly recommend spending an evening with this great film!

45.) BAREFOOT IN THE PARK
The questions I had about his movie are the same questions I had when I saw the play several years ago. How in the hell did these two ever get together? And why did they get married in the first place? I suppose the filmmakers can't be blamed for the faults in Neil Simon's script. Robert Redford and Jane Fonda are completely committed to their characters, though the unfortunate thing is that there's not much too be committed to. Both roles are shallow and straightforward. The movie, like the play, doesn't really get interesting until the arrival of Victor Vargas (Charles Boyer). Seeing this couple that had no believable reason to be together struggle to make their ludicrous marriage work is a bit like being broke but making a half-hearted attempt to offer to pay when some one else is reaching for the check. At times, this movie does find ways of producing a smile or two. But, for the most part, it is a good effort at polishing what used to be last night's dinner.

46.) BARELY LEGAL
Why is it that when teenagers are strapped for cash that they opt for the most outlandish scheme to cover their unnecessary expenses? I suppose its a mark of juvenile financial planning that allowed them to find themselves in the given situation in the first place. Take these social pariahs in this teen-age romp from the B-squad of Nation Lampoon. These high school cut-ups decide that they need money. To them, the obvious choice for fast cash is to innure themselves into the porn business. Well, what brilliant thinking! Take an industry about which you know nothing, persuade women to take their clothes off on film (despite that all the girls you know won't even give you the time of day), and market this to consumers (regardless of the fact that you know nothing about marketing or distribution). So this just makes perfect since. Based on the simple premise that says "since we like to watch porn, we are qualified to make porn", these schmucks set out to create their cinematic masterpiece. Of course, not having a budget is not a problem for them either. Billed as both "sexy" and "funny" I found this movie to be lacking the two things that make a sex-comedy really work: attractive women and good jokes. Based on this thinking, I feel that the next time I am in need of some quick cash, I am going to open my own nuclear power plant.

47.) BARTON FINK
This movie proves at last one fallible truth: not all Coen Brothers' films are created equal. Granted, there are some funny and fascinating moments in this study of a man's journey to find inspiration. But, for the most part, this movie lacks the verve and luster of their other films. Applause must be given to the cast for executing some fantastic performances. The attention to detail in creating this WWII Hollywood period piece is impressive, but the looks don't match the content. I really found this film to be dull, despite itself. Even with a murder mystery thrown in, I just felt that it dragged and muddled its' way through too much self-importance. It was a movie that was trying to be a film. While I am an admirer of most of their work, I think I'll file this one away in the category of "Yes, I've seen that, but only once".

48.) BASIC INSTINCT
I'm sure my "man-card" was in great risk of being taken away prior to my finally having taken the opportunity to see this. Of course, I knew the basic story, I knew the infamous interogation scene with the magical leg crossing. I was well-aware that Sharon Stone showed off her assets and her movie-stardom. What I didn't really realize was how good this movie was. Michael Douglas is fantastic as a San Francisco detective with a sordid and checkered past. Paul Verhoeven is truly hit-or-miss with his career. Consider this a homerun. The twists and turns, the pacing of the suspense, the intelligent dialogue all help to create what is a thoroughly enjoyable film that leaves a lasting impression. I think I'll watch this again...and perhaps with SVC the next time she's in town.

49.) THE BASKETBALL DIARIES
At once a cautionary tale of the dangerous road that you can expect to follow if you let drugs and alchohol take over your life, and an exploratory journey into the mind of a young poet who is searching to define himself through the juxtaposition of being both an artist and an athlete. Leonardo DiCaprio shines in what can only be described as a full-frontal assualt of character development. Mark Wahlberg shows some of that depth and intelligence that will manifest itself later in his career. This story of young prep-school basketball players who find themselves swept up in the world of drugs that transforms them from being students with potential, to junkies so desperate for a fix that the unspeakable becomes the standard vocabulary. Powerful, engaging, and just enough off-putting to make this film quite successful in its' aim. I would highly recommend this one to anyone willing to watch.

50.) BEAN: THE MOVIE
Preposterous, yes. Utterly Unbelievable, yes. A waste of a good afternoon, no. Rowan Atkinson returns to his BBC character of the absurdly fumbling Mr. Bean. Inept, and goofy, this grotesquely idiotic klutz is responsible for being the care-taker of the invaluable painting "Whistler's Mother". Sent to accompany the painting to L.A. where it will be displayed at a ritzy museum, Bean is mistakenly represented as a genius art-critic and scholar. Teaming up with the museum curator, one screw-up after another puts this priceless painting in harm's way more often than not. Peter MacNicol plays the curator with bug-eyed abandon. Lots of hair-pulling frantic reactions, and "ay-yi-yi" chutzpah make this silly comedy a respectable entry into the BBC oeuvre. Plus, a cameo by Burt Reynolds is never a bad thing.

Admittedly, this post has taken me nearly a week to finish. Most of my digestive issues have solved themselves, and I am in place to enjoy yet another weekend of culinary greatness. I hope this finds each of you well, as there will be lots more where this came from.

Too Much Billy Bob is Never a Good Thing

2010-04-08T09:26:00.000-07:00

It's now that wonderful time of year when the harsh bitterness of winter gives way to the warmth and rejuvenation of spring. As these words are being typed young nubile coeds are taking that annual break from class (both in terms of education and etiquette), and the amorous rites of passion that spur us all are beginning to demand more of our time and attention. There's something just beautiful about this time of year. I've always been of the mindset that the calendar year could officially begin when the temps start to rise. That way you really do feel inspired to tackle that resolution list with the energy and verve that comes with a sunny day and a look nature's good side.
I am happy right now. I have many instances in my life that could certainly be cause for serious reconsideration: the terrible economy's impact on my shrinking wallet, the harsh market that seems to be paying less and less attention to art, the mounting bills, the insurmountable tasks that lay ahead. But despite these annoyances, I am finding myself in more and more chipper moods. Maybe it's the joy of a relationship (which is something in which I constantly marvel), or maybe it's just the thrill of being alive, but I feel genuinely happy as I sit down to post today's reviews. Of course there are things that could bring me down, but I am choosing not to focus on what is bitter, but only on what is sweet.

34.) AWAKENINGS
It's really exciting to see Robin Williams tackle something that isn't pure schtick or rapid-fire mania. While as a comedian, he shines, when he chooses to showcase his ability to utilize subtlety and underplay a character is quite impressive. Based on true events, this film follows the meek Dr. Sayer (Williams) as he finds a "miracle cure" for patients who have been catatonic for many years. Through his eyes, we watch bemusedly as these patients begin to see the world around them. The first patient to enjoy this sensation is Leonard (played with power by the ubiquitous Robert De Niro). Leonard had been in this catatonic state since he was a young boy. Watching him awake to experience the joys and beauty of the world is something that moves your spirit. Admittedly, the scene when he is going through the ward introducing himself to all the caregivers who had been nursing him during his sleep brought tears to my cynical eyes. The message here is somewhat overdone, but it is certainly worth stating: Enjoy life! I thoroughly enjoyed this humble and heartwarming film.

35.) DISTRICT B-13
Not sure where this one came from, but I'm glad it was found. This French action flick is clumsily over-dubbed in awkward English, but the dialogue is quickly forgiven when the intricate fight scenes, and explosive chases take center stage. In the not-so-distant future, Paris is divided into sub-districts with number 13 being specifically reserved for the blight of humanity. It is a walled ghetto that is now overrun with crime and the detritus of a community whose own government has chosen to ignore. Fighting to stay alive and on the proper side of morality is a young man named Leito. After being sent to prison (wrongfully) he is forced to team up with uber-cop Damien to retrieve a nuclear bomb that has been lost within the district. The unlikely duo must karate chop their way to success. Overall, this movie is fairly low-budget with some big-budget action sequences. The plot teeters on the side of the absurd, but the physical feats displayed by Leito and Damien are more than enough to make the movie highly enjoyable. Make some popcorn and pop this disc in for a good night of kickass!

36.) THE BABYSITTERS
Perhaps the social statement here is that women forced to empower themselves at too young an age will only bring about their own destruction. Go-getter Shirley (the mousy, yet sexy Katherine Waterson) comes from a modest home, and supplements her income by babysitting for the wealthy yuppies on the other side of the tracks. Through a misguided affair with one of the fathers of her charges, she learns that she can make money offering more than just her sitting services. She soon enlists other girls into her ring of illicit behaviour. While teenage prostitution is not necessarily the makings of a fun film, the taut drama of normal people losing themselves in their own temptations does make for a compelling watch. John Leguizamo and Cynthia Nixon are self-absorbing n both their roles and their perfomances. This is Lolita for modern audiences who want to forgive Humbert and blame Dolores. It is sexy and erotic in places, but that sensuality is frozen over with the realization that it comes from the exploitation of young girls too naive to understand the years of therapy that will accompany their actions.

37.) BACK TO SCHOOL
Who doesn't enjoy Rodney Dangerfield's self-deprecating commentary on society? His bug-eyes have a way of conveying both awe and appreciation for the inconsistencies of the world outside his car window. Here he plays a mega-millionaire (in the throes of his 80's excess) who decides to go to college to share the academic life with his son. The plot is as contrived as most three-camera sitcoms, but there's a heart in Dangerfield's performance that lets you suffer his foolishness gladly. This is standard 80's fare: gratuitious bikini-clad women with too much hairspray and too little common sense, pseudo-rich takes on the neauveau riche, and uninspired criticisms on proto-philosophy. If you can buy that a school rallies behind its' dive team (even having cheerleaders present for the competitions), then you can believe that Mellon (Dangerfield) can afford to have a paper on Kurt Vonnegut written by Kurt Vonnegut (in an all-too short cameo). A nice distraction is a party performance by Oingo Boingo. It's nice to see Danny Elfman cashing checks that have nothing to do with Tim Burton. This movie is funny in a way that your grandfather's jokes are funny: hilarious, but not always worth repeating.

38.) BAD BOYS II
Ok, so I really don't remember if I ever saw the first Bad Boys film, but I will certainly remember this sequel for some time. This movie has everything that I want in a good popcorn flick: beautiful women, big explosions, witty banter, and the chance to see the bad guy get exactly what's coming to him. Will Smith and Martin Lawrence really do work well together. Sure, this has Hollywood spice written all over it, but that cinematic manipulation is forgiven when the product works. Normally, I find Martin Lawrence to be fourth-rate in his comedy, but he really does stretch himself as a straightman for many scenes (even seeming to enjoy being Will Smith's foil). The plot is standard, but the scope is awesome! While this movie will never be remembered for its' artistic contributions, the lasting effect it holds is that it knows exactly when to go BOOM! This one will definitely find its' way back to my DVD player again.

39.) THE BAD NEWS BEARS (1976)
Disclaimer: this would be the perfect children's movie if it were suitable for children! I remember seeing parts on this movie when the requisite Saturday afternoon family programming would include this in the occasional line-up. I came from a family of baseball lovers, so I'm certain someone would pause the channel surfing just long enough to watch a few minutes of terrible infield play, before moving on to something far more entertaining. I'm really glad that I waited until I was an adult to see this movie in all its glory. Walter Matthau is hilarious as the cynical, drunk, washed-out former ball-player-turned-little-league coach. What I most appreciate about his performance is that he never condescends to the kids on his team. He insults them the same way that he would insult anyone else. To me, that's giving these kids the adult-like respect that helps them overcome their own inadequacy. Tatum O'Neal is adorable, and Jackie Earle Haley is bad-ass enough to make yu believe he could be a juvenile threat. Plus, any movie that advocates childhood drinking is just fine by me.

40.) BAD NEWS BEARS (2005)
There are remakes, and there are reimaginings. Remakes are as closely faithful to the original, reimaginings take the basic story and recreate something almost entirely new. This is more like a rerun. I had really high hopes for this one. Afterall, I think Billy Bob Thornton is a great comic talent. Unfortunately, this is not his greatest opportunity to showcase his dark side. Rife with dialogue taken directly from the 1976 classic (see above), most of this film just struggles to play in the same league as its predecessor. Too bad it should just be sent back to the minors. Granted, there are some funny moments. Greg Kinnear is as smarmy as they come, and Billy Bob Thornton ups the drinking ante laid out by Matthau. Pretty much, this film is a swing and a miss.

41.) BAD(DER) SANTA
I think I have found another holiday film to add to my December collection. I remember seeing the trailers for this movie and thinking that it looked funny, but for some reason or another, I'd let this one escape me. I'm glad I finally watched it. Billy Bob Thornton is oozing with repulsive amorality. His boozing buffoonery is showcased brilliantly in this comic gem. Though there are times when the movie dips into the sweet realm, it never goes maudlin. Especially entertaining are the supporting roles played by Bernie Mac and John Ritter (though both do compel a bit of sadness in recognition of the loss of such great talent). I challenge you to watch the scene in the boxing gym and not laugh as loud as you can.

42.) THE BADGE
The third in my Billy Billy Bob Trilogy for the day. This indie features an odd assortment of actors each contributing more to this film than the screenwriters who threw this oddity together. The plot is loose and almost unimportant in most scenes, but Mr. Thornton, Patricia Arquette, Sela Ward and William Devane each provide real distraction by creating some fascinating moments. Seeing Thomas Hayden Church playing a gay-man playing it straight would be a comic masterstroke (if that were the intent). This movie would have made great dark comedy if the producers hadn't been aiming to make a suspense thriller. Set in the bayou, this tale of tranny-hooker gone wrong has all the makings of cinematic badness. Billy Bob Thornton plays a small-town sheriff (taking a page from the Buford T. Justice book of law) who sees his career, life, and understanding of the world coming quickly undone. My advice, watch this movie while eating your favorite cajun dish and enjoying a tasty hurricane as the movie lacks both spice and punch.

43.) BALLISTIC: ECKS Vs. SEVER
Shit sandwich. (see review 31)
The explosions are big, but pointless. The action is extravagant but uninspired. The performances are, well, non-existent. If you watch this movie, be warned that Antonio Baderas and Lucy Liu will make you hate America...and yourself.

The joy of watching movies has yet to ebb. I'm still in good spirits. Life is still meaningful and wonderful. I've chosen to see my life as an impressionist painting. If you get too close, you're only able to see the cracks and imperfections, and everything is too blurry to make sense. But, if you back up, you get a beautful vision of something that is exciting and delightful to see.

The Road Less Travelled is Such for A Good Reason

2010-03-25T08:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a beautiful day. There's something thrilling about spring creeping its' verdant way into the new year. The sun was shining, the temps were in the low 70's, and everything was peaceful and right in the world. A few of us ventured out to a park and enjoyed a great afternoon of playing bocce and croquet. These are gentlemen's games, but not necessarily the way we play them. I remember back in college, there was a sort of "free-for-all" viciousness that could erupt over a genteel game where one tosses balls. The idea of "full-contact psyche-outs" made the game much more entertaining. The amount of trash talk that occurs during one of these rounds is equal to that of any prison yard basketball pickup game. I, personally, revel in the cutthroat level of play that we enjoy. This is what camraderie is all about.
So, as the weather is making it more tempting to go outside and play, I am finding it a bit distracting to keep up with my little project here. Nevertheless, I am still making headway (and hoping for rainy days). I have finished all the "A's" and am now working steadfastly on the "B's" (in addition to some skipping around that I will ocassionally do). As I'm currently packing to go see my niece and nephew, I will dilly-dally no further and get on to the good stuff!

29.) ASH WEDNESDAY
A low-budget indie starring the doe-eyed Elijah Wood, and the jaded Edward Burns, this movie tells of brotherly devotion, and the moral conviction to hold family in the highest esteem. Wood's character, Sean Sullivan, is killed by a mob hit on Ash Wednesday in 1980. Three years later, he is being spotted walking around his old neighborhood in Hell's Kitchen. His older brother, Francis (Burns), is accosted by their mutual enemies wanting to know if Sean is really dead. We learn that this is truly the case as his death had been faked, and Sean has returned from hiding to collect his wife (Rosario Dawson), not knowing that she has been kindling an affair with his brother. This movie has all the makings of a great source of intrigue, however it falls short of being too interesting. It's tough to see Frodo as a real threat, or the man that Rosario Dawson would choose over the machismo-exuding Edward Burns. This movie also confirms my suspicions that no one takes Oliver Platt seriously. He struggles to fill the role of street-hardened gangster. As in most of his movies, he falls ridiculously short. Not a terrible movie. Good for a bad-weather distraction.

30.) ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13
This movie has a very Die Hard feel to it. Maybe the snowy Detroit setting, the New Year's Eve party plans interupted plot, or the one-man versus his demons characterizations give this flick an "all-too-familiar" auld lang syne. Shot as a big-budget action epic, it seems that director was more interested in getting from gun fight to gun fight to pause to question (as his audience frequently does) why the hell is this happening in the first place? Laurence Fishburne is compelling as a ruthless, cop-killing, crime lord whose arrest is news item number 1. He, along with a few petty criminals, are headed for processing when a vicious blizzard causes their route to be detoured to the dilapidated Precinct 13 (scheduled for immediate closing). His presence brings on the threat of assassination by a group of para-military hitmen bent on keeping him out of prison, and dead to the world. Ethan Hawke is a fine actor when it comes to dramatic subtext, and tortured artist syndrome. Ethan Hawke is not an action star. His attempt at waxing heroic is way too distracting to bring the movie into the realm of being considered on par with the aforemention Die Hard franchise. It's a popcorn movie that needed a little extra salt and butter to be truly appetizing. Though, watching John Leguizamo take a bullet to the brain was, in some small way, very fulfilling to anyone who has been forced to watch his stand-up specials.

31.) THE ASTRONAUT'S WIFE
Should someone coerce you into watching this film, end your friendship with this person immediately. I am reminded of a great moment from This Is Spinal Tap when Rob Reiner is discussing some of the band's more cruel reviews. He quotes one for their Album Shark Sandwich as being only two words: "Shit Sandwich". I have taken this reference and used in my personal life to describe any book, movie, album, play, or whatnot that warrants a swift execution of thought. Suffice it to say, when I think of this confusing, trite, and utterly awkward attempt at Sci-Fi (featuring a Charlize Theron who doesn't get naked, and a Johnny Depp who has never heard a real Southern Accent in his life) the only thing that comes to mind is: "Shit Sandwich".

32.) ATTILA
Made by USA Pictures, this feature was originally aired on the USA Network back in 2000. This is supposed to be a sweeping epic telling the life story of the much-feared "Scourge of God", Attila the Hun. Instead, this is a half-hearted costume party where orgies consist of fully-clothed women doing the "Skinemax body rub" on each other, and Roman Soldiers dressed like they walked straight out of Caesar's Palace. If you can believe that this Attila (played by a Gerard Butler that would have been stomped by his own 300 character) could bring the Roman Empire to its' knees, then you can believe that Powers Boothe is a convincing actor outside of Tombstone. The action scenes are big, but when the camera goes in close, you can clearly seen men hitting their choreography in a precise fashion. This movie is history in the way that National Geographic is porn. Not to mention that it clocks in at 3 hours! Tim Curry, though, is fairly entertaining.

33.) THE AVIATOR
Seeing this title, I got a little excited that I was in for something akin to the highly entertaining Howard Hughes Bio-pic from a few years ago. Alas, this is no relative. This movie tells of the early days of the Airmail service, and the struggles that pilots had to endure in the days before radios, blackboxes, and air traffic control. Starring Christopher Reeve as the troubled pilot in charge of escorting the precocious Rosanna Arquette to her new home away from her own bespotted past, this film is hailed as "High-Flying Action and Heartwarming Romance". I would have believed that tagline if I had seen it underneath Superman. But, I saw neither of the two. Reeve and Arquette are passable in their performances, though both have done far superior work elsewhere. There was something a little sobering about seeing the tragic Reeve limping in a scene after being mauled by a wolf. Knowing where that actor's life would one day take him, I felt a little twinge of sadness for him. Overall, this would be good Hallmark fare. Not much else.

I now log-off this post with the happiness that seeing my family usually brings. I will carry my latest conversation with SVC as a source of pride as I journey north for the next few days. I hope the weather is nice, and I can one day expose my nephew to all sorts of cinematic corruption.

Just Passing Cloud Eight

2010-03-22T13:49:00.000-07:00

Some days are marked as great because of some monumental occurence. Others are designated as such because of recognition or realization. I'd say it was safe to call my weekend rather great due to the latter. I am very blessed to have a special lady friend. Suffice it to say, she is my best friend. I feel better about what's happening in my day-to-day after I've spoken with her. This weekend, we got to spend some real quality time in deep conversation. While nothing monumental occurred during our weekend (spent in separate states, mind you), I did come to some rather delightful conclusions about our relationship that make me feel pretty confident about where my life is going. Though, I almost blew it Saturday night, she is forgiving enough of my own stupidity to warrant keeping me around. For that, I am forever grateful.

I apologize for gushing, but I do feel that there is a comfortable outlet here for my musings. Though, I would suspect most of you are ready for me to move on to the movie reviews. Since I aim not to disappoint, I will dispense with revelling in my own good fortune, and now turn my attention to a fascinating assortment of gems.

24.) ANTIGONE: RITES OF PASSION
I guess I was bound to run into one of these "Art House Flicks" before too long. This feeble attempt at making something thoughtful and provoking is laughable. Seriously, this movie is terrible and has as much artistic credibility as QVC. Told through visual pictures with no dialogue, only voice-overs. At some points it would appear that the characters are performing choreographed movement. At all points this looks like it was done on a budget of Ramen Noodles and luke-warm 7-up. It looks like it was filmed on location at the nearest landfill (which is ironic since that would be the place where the finished product could join the careers of those responsible for making this). Based partially on the works of Sophocles, it would appear that this movie's main message is "if it works fine as it is, then drudge it through some half-ass pretensions and throw in some screeching soprano screams for a soundtrack and you're guaranteed to have a hit". No thank you.

25) APOLLO 13
I'm not sure why I waited so long to watch this. This was a great blockbuster, with a high entertainment value. It was fascinating to see how Ron Howard captured the true infancy of the American Space program. I suppose my generation takes these achievements for granted, but this film reminded me that scientific breakthroughs, oftentimes with the crudest of tools, are still noteworthy and should be applauded. I felt like I was a crewmember suffering through the coldness of space with Tom Hanks, Bill Paxton, and the ubiquitous Kevin Bacon. It is remarkable when a filmmaker can still draw tension and suspense from a story that is widely known. I'm sure this will find its' way back into the DVD player before too long.

26.) APT PUPIL
Back when I was a teacher, I used to spend part of the third quarter dealing specifically with the Holocaust. The reading list varied from year to year, but it always included Night by Elie Wiesel. In addition to reading, I would usually do a two-week film festival with the students. I would show whatever the latest documentaries were out, and usually wrap things up with Schindler's List and then Life is Beautiful so we could have a promise of hope for the future. After watching Apt Pupil, I kind of wish I was still teaching so I could expose my students to this chilling piece. Based on a short story by Stephen King (which is always good fodder), this movie deals with a young scholar who gets in over his head when he discovers a Nazi War Criminal living down the street. Ian McKellan is truly frightening as the horrific monster who's been emasculated by time. Brad Renfro's performance reminded me that he had a brilliant career potential before his life was cut short by unfortunate choices ending with the tragedy of a heroin overdose in 2008. I think Hollywood lost a bright talent that day.

27.) AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS
Occasionally I can forgive Disney for rendering a vibrant story impotent by dumbing it down for a "family-friendly" audience. This is not one of those times. There is nothing about this movie that doesn't scream as a blatant insult to its' audience. Jules Verne's novel figures no where in this telling of a mad scientist's attempt at circumnavigating the globe in a timely manner. Instead, this is nothing more than a star-vehicle for Jackie Chan and Steve Coogan. Granted, both stars are entertaining, and their unique personalities and gifts provide the only saving graces for this otherwise trite distraction. I won't spend much time on this one since the filmmakers obviously didn't. Though, there is one humorous moment when, during yet another chase scene, an old woman does a face plant right off a wall. It warranted an "L" that was almost "OL"

28.) ART SCHOOL CONFIDENTIAL
My college roommate was an art student. He was also one of the funniest persons I have ever known. He did have his quirks, though. I suppose if he reads this he'll point out the dark color of my kettle. Watching this movie reminded me the versatility of artists and their aim for "mystique". Art students aren't always as cool as they think they are (though in my real life case, he was pretty badass). This movie made me want to go out and encourage each of the "artists" to go get laid. There is something absurd, though, about the plot of a struggling artist's attempt to make his splash in the art world any way he can. It says a lot about the old adage "Art is in the eye of the beholder". In this case, I think I'll be holdin' a different movie. Granted, the scenes where the nude figure models showed up made the canvas a little more palettable.

I find myself staring a long week in the face. Yet, I feel, as I began this post, that I have a great source of inspiration. SVC, I can't wait to watch some more movies with you soon! Until then, the outlook is tolerable.

Angels, Devils, and Bad Hygiene

2010-03-19T13:56:00.000-07:00

Through the green haze provided by the colored hops of several pints of St. Paddie's Day Ale, I paused from digesting my corned beef and cabbage to attend my fourth funeral of 2010. I have seen some great men pass, so far this year. In the midst of all this, I've had plenty of time to contemplate my own mortality. Life is funny. Death is inevitable. Somewhere, in between, there are times to watch our fleeting, tentative, and shifting existence cry out for meaning. While this philosophical rambling has landed me many opportunities to realize the things for which I should be ever thankful. I have been blessed with an amazing, loving family. I got the chance to extend a warm embrace to my niece as she entered this world. I have found myself completely altering my definition of happiness as every conversation with SVC ends with me feeling better about myself and life in general. Though we live in different cities, the hopes of watching more movies with her is motivation enough to handle any situation I've yet encountered. I have good friends that take great care of me. I have theatre, who is always a loving and caring mistress. And, I have a massive movie collection to keep the idea of ennui out of business in my home.

19.) ANGEL HEART
Years ago, I remember watching an episode of E! Television's True Hollywood Story on The Cosby Show. This program alluded to a career choice that Lisa Bonet made in the early days of the show's existence that caused a rift between her and her onscreen father. I somehow missed the title of the film, but knew that it had some controversial subject matter that the Cos did not appreciate. I sat down, put in this disc and suddenly knew why Denise became a peripheral player after only a few seasons. This movie should have been utterly forgettable (despite boasting performances from Robert De Niro and Mickey Rourke) but for the soft-core scenes depicting a writhing and possessed Cosby kid. The plot is as convoluted as a Sarah Palin campaign speech. Mickey Rourke is private detective hired by an enigmatic De Niro (boasting some extra-creepy fingernails) to find a jazz crooner who has gone missing and owes a debt to the mole-man. Through plot twists that make as much sense as the previous sentence, our gumshoe tracks his singer to the depths of New Orleans' Voodoo country. Somehow, a bargain with the devil is revealed, and Mickey Rourke chews scenery like the starving actor he would one day become. C- for the movie B+ for seeing why Lennie Kravitz had so much fun in the early days of his career.

20.) ANGELS IN AMERICA Pts 1 & 2 (Millenium Approaches & Perestroika)
This epic, made-for-HBO marathon is breathtaking in both its scope and storytelling. The All-Star cast features some outstanding performances by Al Pacino, Meryl Streep, Emma Thompson, Ben Shenkman, Patrick Wilson, and Justin Kirke. However, what left me feeling utterly amazed was what Mary-Louise Parker and Jeffrey Wright were able to do to lift this film from the realm of "good adaptation" to "magnificent cinema". Taken from TonyKushner's two award-winning plays, this miniseries was originally going to go into this post as two separate parts. After much deliberation, I felt that doing that would have made as much sense as separating two acts of the same play. Clocking in at nearly six-hours, this is no easy watch. However, the story completely enveloped me and I found the time passing with much ease. I had read the plays for a drama course back in college. Unfortunately, I have never seen either one in production. After watching this movie, these plays just jumped up on the list of shows I want to produce before I die. Truly amazing! Each day is truly a gift. And this message couldn't have come at a better time in my life

21.)ANGELS WITH DIRTY FACES
This is a great classic featuring James Cagney, Humphrey Bogart, Ann Sheridan, and Pat O'Brien. Admittedly, I have seen parts of this movie over the years. Though, everytime I would stumble upon (usually late at night on TMC), I was only able to catch certain parts. I have been wanting to view the whole thing for some time now. This was remedied when I settled in with some popcorn, Sam Adams, and an hour and a half of great movie-making from Hollywood's heyday. Telling the story of two childhood friends who have taken disparate life-journeys, this film offers a great moral: there is good in all of us. Sure the dialogue is antiquated, and the plot takes a few leaps that require your disbelief to be suspended just a litte more, but this I thoroughly enjoyed this gem.

22.) ANGER MANAGEMENT
I almost skipped over this one because I had seen almost half 0f it when it first came out, and had no real desire to finish what had been started. Thankfully, I gave it another chance. For all intents and purposes, this is another trite Adam Sandler vehicle where he plays his man-child alter-ego right into the contrived world of zany situations that must have a lesson to be learned somewhere. The real comedy doesn't come from Sandler (though he does have a few grin-worthy moments), but from his co-star Jack Nicholson. There's something rewarding about seeing an actor who has intimidated and frightened you perform a role that is shameless. Watching Jack as the scheming psychologist who is assigned to help Sandler's character assuage his own brewing angst, is like watching De Niro in Meet the Parents: you're glad he had a great career before this film, because there's no way to respect him now. It was more entertaining than I anticipated. Probably won't warrant a repeat viewing.

23.) ANIMATRIX
Ok, so this is really just a collection of short films, but this disc was next on the shelve. And, I felt I would be betraying the spirit of this project if I started making justifications on what qualifies as a "movie". 9 animated shorts that fill in the gaps and flesh out the world of The Matrix films. I'm really not a fan of Anime, but I do respect it as an art form. Plus, they usually animate women with very little clothing. Some of these were better than others. The first four were written by the Wachowski brothers, so their relevance is clear and entertaining. Overall, I was glad these were only short films. The final installment, "Matriculated" is just terrible.

The real irony of this week's entries is that four of the six films include the word "angel" in their titles. Dealing with the ups and downs of life like I have had to do in the past few weeks, I can't help but feel the warmth of a few angels in my own life. At the risk of giving Hallmark a run for it's client-base, I will gush and say that I'm thankful for my own guardians of peace and love. "May flights of angels sing you to your rest".

Don't Put the Word "American" in Your Title if Your Movie Was Made in Canada.

2010-03-15T12:08:00.001-07:00

Once again, I find myself thinking more about the weather than about world-changing events. I have to wonder if this is putting me closer to Shady Oaks than to beach filled with co-eds on a spring break journey to make jaegermeister's stock soar. Regardless, I can't help but contemplate on the beauty that was this weekend's picturesque climate. Beautiful blue skies, temperatures that were neither hot nor cold. It was something akin to what Goldilocks must look for in planning her vacation destination: just right.
Getting out and shaking off the wintry melancholy, I found that this preview of spring was just what I needed to feel reminded that, even the most bleak must end. Life is a cycle, and my chains are well-greased. Today's post will feature some more movie reviews (as I'm sticking to last week's promise of being more consistent with progress reports). I am currently filling my brain with so much minutiae of the hollywood sort that I'm not sure there'll be room for important details like the recipe for the world's greatest sandwich, or Sexy Viewing Companion's address (the former is safely tucked away in my pantry and the latter will never be forgotten on pain of death or detachment). That being said, I suppose I should make more room in the video respository by emptying out my thoughts on the next set of gems.

14.) THE AMATEURS
"The Dude Makes A Porno". What a familiar story. It would appear that if you should ever find yourself in dire financial straits, then the best way to bolster your withering bank account would be to make (or star in) an adult film. This incarnation is not really different from the likes of Zak and Miri Make a Porno or Barely Legal, except that we have a cast of fifty-somethings that are hoping this journey of self-discovery will include video footage of a nubile co-ed doing some discovery of her own self. Not a particularly bad film, it does feature some nice comic turns from Joe Pantoliano, William Fichtner, Ted Danson, and, of course, Jeff Bridges. Our man Lebowski is a down-on-his-luck divorced father. Wanting to prove that he is just as capable of providing for his pre-teen son as the boy's new stepfather, he enlists his friends (small-town folk who are known to join him on his schemes du jour) to make a porno, sell it, and reap the benefits of being a successful filmmaker. Easy? Well, not if you want a plot for this movie! The humor is somewhat contrived, and the sex scenes are a bit awkward (seeing Ted Danson's bare ass is enough to keep you away from solid foods for a week), but the movie does have heart. And that must count for something.

15.) AMERICAN CRIME
To be honest, I'm not really sure what this movie is about. This is one of the most slapdash attempts at storytelling since Hulk Hogan lost his championship because there was a fake referee. The plot (as far as I could gather) centered around employees at a local news station who were following the abductions and murders of women who were stalked before meeting their demise. The young reporter who is covering the story finds herself also being stalked prior to her own disappearance! A syndicated TV show entitled "American Crime" begins to follow this story as it has now developed into this odd little meta-world. The host of the show comes to this small town hoping to offer support, but finds that his methods are not appreciated. How it got there to the ending (SPOILER ALERT) where we find that the syndicated host is actually the killer is quite beyond me. The story is ludicrous, and everyone associated with it should be prepared to kiss their careers goodbye. Cary Elwes plays the host in the most non-sensical attempt at character idiosyncracies ever captured on celluloid. His British accent is attrociocious (and he's from ENGLAND!!) He sounds like he's auditioning for a low-budget Dickens remake. Cary, the next time your agent requests that you read for a film of this schlock, please do not answer "As you wish".
16.) AMERICAN CRUDE
Perhaps I was several tankards into a good (read terrible) box of wine, but this movie was utterly unwatchable. It started off as a morality tale told by an idiot (played with grace and smarm by Ron Livingston), but somehow rambled into a convoluted heist-caper-comedy-of-errors-crapfest of biblical proportions. Any movie featuring Rob Schneider as the dramatic foil is not starting off well. Michael Clarke Duncan and Jennifer Esposito should both rush to the nearest confessional and request a serious pennance for their ludicrous turn as lovers on the lam. Missi Pyle plays a transsexual, what else can I say?

17.) AMERICAN HISTORY X
I'm sure you're probably wondering how a sensitive intellectual like me has overlooked this movie for so long. It has been recommended for years, but I put it aside for reasons that now seem trite and petty. I owe a serious apology to everyone who ever told me that I should see this movie. I regret missing it, and I am now thankful that I have experienced what can only be described as "powerful". The message is there, but the fuzziness of an afterschool special is thankfully missing. Edward Norton gives the performance of a lifetime. I'm not going to ramble or gush on this one, but I will heavily encourage those of you looking for something potent to see to put this one in immediately.

18.) AMISTAD
This was a good movie. It had just enough of the hollywood gloss to give it the requisite scope, but there was a true honesty that this historical drama carried that really made it watchable. Based on historical events, this movie (another one that falls into that category of movies that I really should have seen prior to this experiment) tells the harrowing story of the Africans who rose up against their slave captors and fought for their own freedom and the trial that ensued. I was impressed. While Matthew McConaughey really should stick to the cupcake films he's best known for, he did an admirable job as the defending attorney. Djimon Honsou is always impressive as his figure commands your attention when he walks into frame. This one bears a resonance that was refreshing without being too quaint or self-serving. The montage of events that transpired from the Africans' enslavement all the way to their mutiny is nothing short of horrific, but moving. The best actors know how to tell a story with their eyes. Djimon Honsou spun hours of fables without saying a single word of English.

I am still promising to keep these posts up-to-date. I know I have reels to watch before I sleep, but I am feeling confident so far. I have just reached the "50" mark in viewing. 10% down. Much more to go. In the meantime, I think I will enjoy the clouds smiling at me as I take this show outside.
Cheers!

Just What Is Written in Those Envelopes Anyways?

2010-03-11T14:50:00.000-08:00

By this time in the week, the aftermath of the Oscar ceremonies have settled down. Unused speeches and once-used glamour gowns are now cast aside as the winners and losers both answer the question of most cinematic importance: "What's next?". It seems that there is an inevitable cycle that exists in the world of the creative arts. Those that sit and revel in their past accomplishments flounder too much to be able to contribute too much for the future, while those who let the works of the past remain there are able to keep that driving force going with the momentum of a fat child at an ice cream bar. I do have to say that there were few surprises in the mostly tepid evening. Though I maintain my opinion that "The Hurt Locker" won solely on it's political and not artistic merit. Personally, I fell asleep twice while watching it. "Precious", on the other hand, had me riveted to the screen long after the movie was over.
My apologies for taking a week off. Last week marked my third funeral for 2010. Somber as this year has turned out thus far, I do find comfort and solace in the fact that there is still breath in my own lungs, and that neither disease nor hubris has managed to take me down...yet. I suppose it's sufficient to recognize that in spite of the travails this new decade has brought, there are still some mighty good perks. Sexy Viewing Companion is always a great source of good-feeling. Though she lives elsewhere now, I do look forward to having her share in some of the relentless movies that keep waging war on my DVD player.
So, speaking of movies, I suppose I should move on to the real matter at hand and get on to the reviews. Today's post gets us a little further into the "A"s and includes a few gems that have eluded me for a while.

9.) ALIEN NATION
James Caan will always and forever be Sonny Corleone, but there are moments when his gruff Irish-Italian exterior plays gently into the role of burdened everyman. I've seen this movie on shelves of video stores for years. My love/hate relationship with science fiction has managed to steer me away from picking this up, and opting for the next installment in the Police Academy series instead. Fortunately, this project finally afforded me the opportunity to face my apprehension and pop this one into the machine. I was glad I did. I kind of wish I had seen it years ago. It might have altered my experience of watching District 9. Here the aliens do speak English, and there's a more human quality to them. Mandy Patinkin is great as Caan's otherworldy partner. The latent themes of racial inequality, and tolerance are less than awkward, but enjoyment is still quite capable of occurring. Plus, Terrance Stamp shows up as an alien....that's not Zod. Go figure!

10.) ALL THE LITTLE ANIMALS
This indie from across the pond is fairly trite. It does bost some good star talent in the likes of Christian Bale and John Hurt. Here we have the tale of a young heir to a department store dynasty. His dear mother has died, and he's now at the hands of his wicked stepfather (a truly original concept, thank-you very much). There's only one problem, our protagonist just happens to have some sort of mental deficiency. We're never really sure just how mentally handicapped he is, though. Christian Bale seems to play him as somewhere between Rain Man, and an extra from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Our simpleton decides to escape the abuse of his stepfather and journey out into the harsh cruel world of the verdant English countryside. Along the way, he meets an amateur conservationist and roadkill funeral director played by John Hurt. His mission is to see to it that all of God's little creatures should be afforded the dignity of a decent burial, even if they have become street pancakes. What makes all of this even more confusing is the fact that Bale's character also acts as voiceover narrator. You're never really sure just how much of this is put on, or not. I kept watching in the hopes that I would see some elements of Batman or John Connor surface, but my dreams were picked apart by the carrion that was this terrible waste of a good two hours.

11.) ALL THAT JAZZ
I have to admit that I am a fan of the American Musical (especially the ones written by Brits.) This auto-bio pic tells the somewhat fabricated story of Bob Fosse's alter-ego (played with exuberant pinache by Roy Scheider. The musical numbers are bright, splashy, daring, and a little sexy. This was one of those great movies that made me more conscious of my own artistic origins. I felt inspired by watching his tireless work ethic. And I felt that tug of warning as his excesses threatened to tear his world apart. Of all the movies that this project has presented me up to this point, this movie really made me sit up and take notice. There I was watching Chief Brody tackle a behemoth more deadly and vicious than any shark: the critics of a Broadway musical. Ann Reinking is brilliant as his on-again-off-again lover. This movie is one that will definitely find a repeat viewing in the near future. Having been a fan of Fosse's work, I especially enjoyed the personal reflections of his life that can be found in his movement. Plus, I am reminded as to why I started dancing in the first place: beautiful girls in tight, skimpy clothing. What could be more artistic than that?

12.) ALL THE KING'S MEN
I have spent a great deal of time with the novel upon which this film is based. Sean Penn is captivating as he portays a simple man caught up in the very corruption that he sought to fight by running for office in the first place. With an all-star cast featuring James Gandolfini, Jude Law, Anthony Hopkins, and Kate Winslet, this is a fairly impressive film adaptation of a book that has given me many a good naps. Having grown up in the South, I can see the progression that Penn's Willie Stark was fighting for. I grew up seeing the vestigial remnants of the Old South, the land of broken dreams. I remember being thankful that I wasn't born 60 years prior. This movie does have that inspirational message that rings out like a faulty accent. It's one that's easy to hear, but disconcerting to listen to.

13.) ALPHA DOG
Oh to live the tortured existence of a young wealthy disillusioned kid in the well-to-do suburbs of L.A. I was honestly expecting this to be movie that would cause me to reach for my glasses to correct my vision from too much eye-rolling. I was met with a film that was more fascinating than I expected. Detaching from a reality that allows these schmucks to fully exist, I was able to watch this movie and enjoy some pretty good performances. The most surprising turn came from Justin Timberlake. His drug dealing first lieutenant to Emile Hirsch's character was fierce, and sensitive. He was deceptively one-note until some real depth was required, and he showed up in full force. As always, Ben Foster came to play. He was frightening as the rival drug dealer who engages Hirsch's character in a full-on war that does not end well at all. While this movie could have easily been a petty attempt to make a Pulp Fiction for the teenie set, it ended up being of more substance and thought than I was initially going to give it credit.

I promise that I will have more reviews up soon. While my posting time has been limited, I can assure you that I have not been neglectful in my viewing duties. Pass the popcorn, this is going to be a long week!

Yin Yang and Yutz

2010-02-25T12:33:00.000-08:00

With the strains of Metallica's Kill 'Em All album streaming wickedly through the earphones of my ipod, I sit here contemplating the grand balance of nature. My faithful green chair is the perfect place for me to briefly reflect upon the wonder that is the duality of all things. Yesterday and today (thus far) seem to be falling right in the middle of where I am most comfortable: the lukewarm existence of neither good nor bad (though unlike Hamlet, there will be not too much thinking to make anything so). I had the great good fortune of enjoying a rather spectacular weekend. Good times with good friends. A few affirming phone calls from my very pretty friend who lives in another state, and the general cheer that accompanies a feeling of accomplished joy. Immediately following the weekend of bliss came the week of blight. As it would seem, for everything that made the weekend content, there came a bone to raise contention on Monday and Tuesday. Now I'm not one to rant and rave over the absurd little things, but it would certainly appear as good as the weekend was, the week would prove to be as bad. Fortunately, the ship has righted itself, and things are back on track for complacent mediocrity. This is where I'm most productive, and this is where I hope to remain for a while (though some more touches of the bliss will be welcome, as long as there is no accompanying blight.
Despite the ups and downs, I was able to get some more movies under my belt. Once again, I'm seeing a trend of experiencing the cinematic good, bad, and ugly (and, yes, The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly is on the list of movies to be watched). So with as little ado as marks a man of my means, here come the reviews!

5.) AGAINST ALL ODDS
I have a theory going that, despite The Fabulous Baker Boys which had the good fortune of the equalizing presence of Beau Bridges, every movie that Jeff Bridges made prior to The Big Lebowski was merely a dress rehearsal of characterization. With that in mind, it's only fair to include a subtitle for each of his previous films (i.e. "White Squall: The Dude on a Boat"; "Starman: The Dude in a Spaceship"; "Tron: The Dude in a Video Game", etc.). Therefore, we have "Against All Odds: The Dude Plays Football". This is a mostly forgettable insert in the Dude's oeuvre. The story of a football player who falls in love/lust with a hustler's girlfriend and chases her through Mexico to save her from her murderous boyfriend (played with a true "phone-it-in" performance by James Woods). The scenery is nice when they're traipsing through Aztec ruins, and cavorting on the beach. But the story is fairly ludicrous. I wanted this to be more of a football movie, but, alas, the producers truly fumbled when it came to the atheletic subtext. One fun spot has Alex Karras playing a trainer/hitman for hire finding the couple in Mexico, revealing his true friendship and concern for our protagonist, before taking a bullet in his forehead. Touching, and with the right amount of cheese.

6.) AGNES OF GOD
A few years ago, I was reading scripts for a theatre and I came across a play that really grabbed me and didn't let go. It was mystical, full of intrigue, drama, passion, and characters that were so complex that you couldn't get them out of your mind. I was pleased to find on our shelves that there was a film version of this play that I had once enjoyed. Putting in the DVD player did not disappoint. This is a great adaption of the three-person play. Here, the screenwriter addded scenes to flesh out the narrative, all the while giving the movie an honest and gripping feel. Meg Tilly is absolutely heartbreaking in her portrayal of the young novice nun being tried for the death of her newborn baby. I don't want to spoil this one for those that haven't seen it (or even read the play), but rest assured, nothing is as it seems. Jane Fonda and Anne Bancroft are both equally potent in their roles of Psychologist and Nun, respectively. This was one of those moments when I made a mental note to give this one another viewing when the time was right. I especially appreciated the spirituality that this film dealt with. It raised great questions without worrying about sacrilege.Pay close attention to the conversation between Fonda and Tilly in the belltower. It it doesn't move you, you are wearing concrete shoes.

7.) AIR AMERICA
I knew I would come across an awkward buddy flick before too long. I wasn't let down by this 2 hour trip through the jungles of Laos. While I have my beefs with Mel Gibson, for the most part I've enjoyed his contributions to cinema prior to The Passion of the Christ. This may fall into that category of paycheck films that also plays home to Bird on a Wire and What Women Want. Robert Downey, Jr, on the other hand, is still stuck in his emolation of the Brat Pack. If these actors had met and teamed up a decade later, this movie might really have been spectacular. The action sequences were great for the popcorn bowl. The story line about the corruption of our government during the Vietnam War is fun and funny (at times). It just really seemed that this movie was willing to settle for a "B-" when it truly could have been of "A" quality. It's easy to see Mel Gibson still having trouble shaking his "Riggs" persona from the Lethal Weapon films.

8.) ALI G INDAHOUSE: THE MOVIE
Sacha Baron Cohen is a genius. His ability to play beyond dumb is a mark of someone who is certainly the smartest person in the room. Granted, I still haven't seen every episode of the Ali G Show yet, but what I've experienced so far has whet my appetite for only great things from this man. At first I was a little wary since this movie was going to be more like a traditional film rather than the pseudo-documentary style of his show and his other movies Bruno, and Borat. I had nothing to worry about. He is certainly just as capable doing a straight comedy as he is doing a guerilla-style attack. Yes, the plot is absurd, but you don't go to Hooters just for the wings. The general humor in this film had me doing several spit-takes. I thoroughly enjoyed this. The fictional character makes a run at Parliament, and his co-opted African cultural philosophy suddenly rings very true with the citizens of England. Of course, there are the machinations of an evil chancellor that our hero must overcome. Along the way, the comedy is unsettlingly funny, absurd, and coupled with a wink and smile that reminds you it's ok to laugh when he lets you in on the joke.

I feel the smell of success overpowering the smell of breakfast as I look into the eyes of this video collection. While I'm making slow and steady headway, I realize that I have reels to watch before I sleep. I'm not afraid. But I do hope that this much escapism doesn't alter my own reality too much. Hell, people may need me one day.

Setting Sail

2010-02-18T09:49:00.000-08:00

There's nothing more disconcerting than realizing your favorite programs are being pre-empted by men in tights doing something with an axel. Ok, I suppose one could make an argument for a few more troubling realizations, but for the sake of this post, I'll choose ice dancing as my bain du jour. Not that there's anything particularly terrible about the Olympics, but I truly have no desire to watch them. Besides, it's the Winter Games that are dominating the airwaves. Everyone knows that the Winter Games are the inferior closet brother to the Summer Games. In the Summer Games there are events like hammer throwing, and spear hurling. In the Summer Games men engage in the oldest form of homoerotic entertainment known to our species: Greco-Roman wrestling. In the summer games we have acknowledged sports like basketball and baseball. What do we get with the winter games? Stoned snowboarders, and ice-dancing men in pants so tight you can tell what religion they are. During these games pot and cosmo-tini's are added to the list of performance enhancers. Not my cup of tea.
So, this television void has given me ample time to make some serious headway in my task to watch as many movies that are new to me as I possibly can. My goal is 500 this year. It's certainly possible, but we'll see if the determination and grit can win out over eventual ennui. If not, then I guess I will suffer the fate of the silver medalist: the also-rans of history.
Without further ado, it's on to some reviews of my recent cinematic conquests!

1.) Abbott And Costello Meet Frankenstein
What better place to start than the alphabetical genesis of this new collection? Admittedly, my new roommate is a bit of a Frankenstein fanatic. I'm pretty sure he has every Frankenstein-related film that's ever been released. Some of these gems include: Bride of Frankenstein, Frankenstein Unbound, Frankenstein Reborn, Lady Frankenstein, and my personal favorite, Blackenstein. Needless to say, I am in for some real crap. But, I am certain there will be some redeemable flicks within this oeuvre. So my first step on this long journey is a cinematic classic. This comic masterpiece offers a chance to see the immortal comic team share the screen with some true horror legends. This Hollywood Who's Who of 1948 includes Bela Lugosi in his most endearing role, that of the undead Dracula, and Lon Chaney, Jr as the Wolf Man. Seeing these actors turn their iconic roles into comic foils for the likes of Bud and Lou is worth more than twice the price of admission. Since I paid nothing to watch this movie, I can state confidently that I would happily pay twice or even thrice that! Truly one I'll watch again...but probably not any time soon.

2.) ABOUT LAST NIGHT
Ok, this second movie was pretty terrible. It's obviously an excoriation of the twists and turns of dating in a major city. Our protagonists are accustomed to the "love 'em and leave 'em" style of relationships. Long term means a second date. Here they slowly fall in love and realize that, perhaps, there is something out there better than a life of one-night-stands. What a load of crap! Now I'm not judging the sentimentality of this concept, but it's portrayal by Demi Moore and Rob Lowe makes you really root for them to stay together, not because you want them to be happy, but because they are such miserable, self-centered, social pariahs that there union saves the rest of us from having fall prey to their juvenile boorishness. Thankfully, the producers cast Elizabeth Perkins and James Belushi as their respective best friends. I say thankfully because their presence makes the two leads look ideal by comparison. Adapted from a script by David Mamet, this movie was an eyesore on the way to completing my goal. On another note, I was treated to a nice view of Demi Moore's pre-surgical-enhancement nakedness. Amazing how quickly a movie can be redeemed.

3.) ADAPTATION
I know many cinephiles who bow down and worship at the feet of Charlie Kaufman for his work on Being John Malkovitch. I claim utter indifference. Frankly, the former was a little too quirky for my taste. Perhaps that feeling gave me prejudice to avoid this movie for so long. Regardless, I am glad I finally saw this one. It is truly a meta-film in every definition of the term. It's self-awareness is probably what makes it most compelling to view. You get sucked into this world that just keeps getting more convoluted (and adapted). I was impressed. Admittedly, there were moments toward the end (I won't spoil this one, though I won't be as judicious in the future with other movies), that I found it drifting a little too close to the uncomfortably absurd. Chris Cooper is quite good. His Oscar was well deserved. Plus, you see Meryl Streep's own set of awards. Nice.

4.) THE ADULT VERSION OF JEKYLL & HIDE
Ok, this is pretty much a porn, but it's one of the funniest attempts at storytelling that has ever been captured on celluloid. A sexploitation film from 1971, this utter monstrosity is the retelling of the Jekyll and Hyde story in a "modern" setting. As a brief synopsis: Dr. Leeder, a lecherous medicine man who lists cheating on his fiance' as a full-time hobby, stumbles upon the diary of the real Dr. Jeckyll. In this ancient tome (written in a composition notebook) he learns of the sexual exploits of Jekyll's alter-ego, Mr. Hyde. Thanks to his less-than-legal means of procuring this text, he is being pursued by the police who want to connect him to the murder of a shopkeeper. In the mean time, Dr. Leeder decides to test Jekyll's formula on himself. Amazingly he has all three (yes THREE) ingredients to make this monstrous potion. His other half, as it turns out, is a voluptuous blonde (with obvious surgical scars from pre-filming enhancement) named Miss Hide. Ah, the twist! In order to remain hidden from the cops, he keeps the form of the sexy Miss Hide who then proceeds to have affairs with Leeder's secretary, his fiance' and some random sailor. But it's not gay since Leeder is in disguise as a woman! This schlocky masterpiece is for the T 'n A crowd (40 years ago). The dialogue is atrociously bad, and the science of Jekyll is glossed over worse than a emo kid's need for rebellion. Needless to say, this movie is AWESOME! Certainly the first true gem of this journey.

I am certain that in this olympic interlude, I'll have more opportunities to add to the list. So far I've yet to find a movie that is a complete waste of time, though there have certainly been those that may not warrant a second viewing before the apocalypse. But until then, there is always curling! Sweeping and ice, what could be better?!

I Just Drove in from Phoenix, And Boy Are My Arms Tired

2010-02-13T11:39:00.000-08:00

To say that the year that was the last ended with a bang would be, more or less, the understatement equivalent of saying that Adolph Hitler was a bit of a jerk. I won't go into all the details (some wonderful, some heart-breaking, and some just downright odd), but suffice it to say that coming back to this blog is a welcome return after a too-lengthy vacation. Much like the normal return from a big trip, the days after include the unpacking, the discovery that sand truly does get everywhere, and the attempt to re-assimilate yourself back into a routine that seems as foreign as the clerk at your nearest gas station. Be it happy, sad, bittersweet, or just plain exhausting, this welcome home party to the information dirt road is long overdue, but thankfully existent.
Sitting at this desk with my laptop staring me down, reminds me that I've had my share of close calls in the last two months. Close calls are nature's way of saying "hey, douche bag, you're flying too near the sun!" These little daily reminders of our own mortality are enough (usually) to take put your hands back on the wheel, and turn off the cruise control. I thought it only prudent to use this first post to get myself reacquainted with the art of digital wordsmithing, and just talk about a motley skid row of topics. For those of you who know me, when I occasionally slip into the coma that accompanies the habits of a workaholic, I generally surround myself with as much pop-culture until I either receive divine inspiration, or the couch sores develop couch sores of their own. This being said, I have spent some good ole' quality time with my new roommate's movie collection. Finally, someone with a bigger DVD problem than mine! Within a matter of a few days my humble collection (exceeding 500) nearly tripled in size with the arrival of his personal video library. Thus, the cause for my latest venture: I am going to watch every movie in this house that I have never seen.
I am a lover of all art (and yes, Police Academy 3 is art....Police Academy 4 is not art). I feel that if a book has been written, it should be read. If a song has been recorded, it should be heard. And if an independent film company practiced the shameless self-promotion of making a low-budget film, then, by God, I should watch it. So far, I've added nearly 30 movies to a list of previously "never seen" flicks. I am learning a lot about my own tastes, but I'm also learning that perhaps not all art is truly best for public consumption. In the succeeding posts, I am going to chronicle some of the films I have have had the pleasure/fortuitous distaste of viewing. But before we get into that, I did want to share a fun little anecdote to end today's resurfacing.
One of my cinematic guilty pleasures (other than Skinemax) is to watch some good horror movies. The irony, as has been touched upon in previous posts, is that I am also a gigantic scaredy cat. The white whale du jour of my scary movie watching sail has been the frightfest "Paranormal Activity". Generally, I am one to listen to every bit of feedback from those who have gone before. For every average joe that tells me "man, that movie scared the pants off me", I am greeted with equal parts fear, interest, and disgust at picturing said joe with no pants. I anticipate seeing the movie, but also fear that its' frighteningness will be the death of me and my shivering heart. So, usually I must be coerced into watching this movie. Enter Sexy-Viewing Companion.
One night, Sexy Viewing Companion decides that I need to overcome my growing fear of this movie, and that we need to watch it together. Her plan is two-fold: 1.) that I will squeal like a small girl, thus giving her hours of entertainment at my expense, and 2.) that watching this movie with the lights off will force me into confronting the non-reality of a movie (i.e., I should really have nothing to fear, and should stop being a big baby). I reluctantly agreed, though I was somewhat pleased to have Sexy Viewing Companion with me for moral support....and I was not going to show any weakness.
Out go the lights. In goes the disc. And here comes the grainy magic.
Within minutes, we are introduced to cinemas' newest horror couple. Granted, I was inching myself closer and closer to SVC with every bump and noise that was heard onscreen as I imagined hearing something more fierce and demonic coming from the dark recesses of my own home. The sweat was cold, and my hands were now prey to the shaking and shivering of one in the presence of pure evil (brought on by the movie, and not SVC, mind you). I was feeling that old familiar feeling of a movie that was too scary to watch!
Thankfully, I was not alone. And by not alone, obviously I was with SVC, but she was starting to get just as freaked out as myself. At this point in the narrative, a new sensation began to take over: machismo. As my beautiful female friend was experiencing the thrill of watching a movie between the slits in her fingers, I was feeling empowered by the fact that I needed to remain calm so I could protect her should these demon beasts escape from their laser-manufactured home, and begin terrorizing us. Hellbeasts, be damned!
Right about the time this rush of masculinity hit me, I also felt the familiar tug of logic pulling on my sleeve. I began to realize more and more that, were I in the designer shoes of those poor saps on the screen, I might tend to act a little differently. Step 1: CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR. I think once I realized that something eerie was this way coming, I would shut the door to the bedroom, lock it, and let that be the test. If I awoke and the door was open, then it would be time for a new house, and possibly for a new bed mate. Movie over, head still attached. Life is back to normal.
We finished watching the movie (which I was now able to enjoy as a conscientious observer). While my fear had ebbed away, SVC was letting hers completely run away. We popped in a mindless comedy, tried to talk about something other than demon possession, and we eventually decided it was time for bed (though since my mother sometimes reads this blog, I will maintain that we did go to bed without "knowing" each other). I made a few jokes about what would happen if either of us were to wake up in the middle of the night and see the "Kate" character standing in my bedroom. For that illusion, I received some not-too-friendly punches on the arm.
Then, I closed and locked the door.

Christmas is Why They Invented Movies

2009-12-25T09:49:00.000-08:00

The dust of commerce has settled and I sit blessed on this lovely pile of goodies as a result of 365 days of practicing nice. Christmas, especially for one who has waffled in his religious beliefs over the years, is a particularly interesting time of the year. Being inundated with a pop-culture that saturates the holidays with a healthy mix of hallmark schmaltz and warm crackling pre-fab joy, it's no real surprise that this season brings with it a bag of mixed emotions. As a life-long student of religious studies, I am often intrigued with the bending, co-opting, and usurping of a meld of traditions from a vast variety of different spheres. This year is no different. As I listen to my "Twisted Sister Holiday Album", I am truly reminded of the subcontracted reason for the commercial season.
I think it's fair to step away from the religious connotations of this month, and spend a few ecumenical paragraphs talking about some of the other joys that this time of year brings. Sure, there's the family, the food, and the frivolity of fellowship with friends from faraway. But there are other aspects of the Christmas season that don't have anything to do with an f-word. When the holiday turkey and ham is resting comfortably in your lower intestine, and the wine has started to warm your spirits like a kindled space heater, generally the holidays are then reduced to the offerings of hollywood and our friends at low-rent production companies the world over.
For most of us who've grown up prior to the digital age, but long after the gen-x'ers, we find our defining moments in the films that we pull out year after year to help recapture those days when the VCR was the highest form of entertainment technology: the Christmas movie. Today, as I prepare to go enjoy a wonderful meal with some dear friends, I thought I would pause and offer the blogger's requisite top ten list. As with any top ten list, there goes the caveat that controversy over placement, inclusions, and exclusions is likely to occur. In the event that you find a discrepancy with what I've decided to put on my list, I implore you to consider that this isn't a be-all, end-all list....merely a personal catalogue.

10.) GREMLINS
Admittedly, I was a child when this movie came out and it scared the cartoons off my underoos. However, after watching it as an adult (grownup is not applicable in my case), I have found that it is the perfect mix of horror and humor that makes any good movie worth repeat viewings. Phoebe Cates is ever the lovely virginal girlfriend who aids her beau in helping this idyllic small town rid itself of the perils of not obeying the rules attached to exotic pets. Particularly fun is the scene in the local bar when the gremlins are getting drunk and harassing the townies.
9.) EYES WIDE SHUT
A Christmas movie released in the summer of 1999. This is certainly one that tends to go on the bottom of the list of favorite Kubrick flicks, but with unjust cause I say. Of course, the plot is ridiculous, and the movie is about 1 hour too long, but it does offer some fun intrigue and the most arresting three note score since "Close Encounters of the Third Kind". Also, the rampant nudity of beautiful women is enough to make up for the utter absurdity of watching Tom Cruise use his medical license like a police badge. Plus, this movie reminds us that hookers need holiday love too.
8.) MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL
A wonderful creeping drama directed by Clint Eastwood, this movie opens in the most Christmas-y of Southern towns: Savannah, GA. While most of the movie takes place after the celebration of Christ's birth, the festive house party scene with its culinary spread of cajun cuisine is enough to make me nostalgic for many Christmas Eves on the Gulf Coast where we feasted on Gumbo, crabcakes, and shrimp. Also, Kevin Spacey is disarmingly eerie as the closeted art restorer cum neauveau riche host to John Cusack's everyman struggling writer.
7.) ROCKY IV
When you're preparing to end the cold war with a pair of boxing gloves, the best way to train is to haul logs up a Russian mountain, and go jogging in three feet of snow. The scene where Rocky, Paulie, and his trainers are sitting in the log cabin listening to the 'Alvin and the Chipmunks' Christmas album while playing chess and sitting by a crackling fire is enough to make me want to give up my city life and move to Siberia...but only if I get to make friends with Apollo Creed's widow. It's a Christmas miracle when Adrian shows up after travelling around the world to be with her man before his big fight.
6.) JAWS IV: THE REVENGE
There must be something festive about the roman numeral iv as this next film in a popular series is also centered around the noel. As we hear the Amity Island Children's choir rehearsing for their big holiday pageant, young Shawn Brody is attacked by both a piece of driftwood and the latest incarnation of the shark that has plagued his home since his father first came to be sheriff. We are then treated to Bahamanian Christmas celebration as Shawn's mother, the lovely but aged Ellen Brody, travels down to a more temperated climate to mourn her baby boy in the comforting arms of Michael Caine. The final battle where the widow Brody rams the surface-breached fish with the end of her yacht is as anticlimactic as the series offered. On an interesting note, Michael Caine won the 1987 Best Supporting Actor Oscar for "Hannah and her Sisters" but was not present to accept his statue as he was on location filming this aquatic masterpiece.
5.) CHILD'S PLAY
Ever what would happen if a smalltime criminal who dallies in voodoo were to be killed while fleeing the law in a toy store during the midst of a lightning storm? This movie can set your mind finally at ease. Seeing the demented Chucky Doll hack away at children through 4 sequels is enough for me to never buy my children any toy with a face.
4.) THE TOY
Richard Pryor in most racially sensitive role plays a gift to the spoiled son of a portly Jackie Gleeson (sporting a horrendous southern accent). Playing on themes of slavery and journalistic ethics, this movie doesn't really have much to do with Christmas, but it is certainly worth watching Pryor rolling through a toy store in a giant wonder wheel. Also, the rampant of jokes about the names of his employer's son (young Master Bates) is enough to keep the blue in the Holiday tradition.
3.) ERNEST SAVES CHRISTMAS
The day that Jim Varney died was a day that the laughter temporarily stopped. Arguably the best in his series of Ernest films, this Christmas-themed entry boasts jokes about Reindeer doody, runaway children, and senior citizens. Watching America's favorite boob fly through the air on a spark-shooting sleigh only to stop inches from ground after a perilous straight shot to the earth is made comedy legend by his confident utterance "Air Brakes" accompanied with his signature laugh. Plus, the frequent misidentification of the real Santa Claus as one "Mr. Santos" is sweet and off-putting.
2.) SCROOGED
It's the late 80's and Bill Murray is riding his film career high. In my opinion this movie is far superior to the Chevy Chase vehicle "Christmas Vacation". Though the plethora of one-liners in the former is commendable, the heart and soul of "Scrooged" is in the journey that his character goes through. The same man who once suggested stapling fake antlers onto the heads of live mice for the sake of a television special later gives Bobcat Goldthwait a raspberry on his beer gut after seeing his own demise at the hands of his Christmas Future. Watching him get his clock cleaned by a tutu wearing Carol Kane is also worth the price of admission. The final speech that he gives to camera after interuppting the live taping of his TV station's holiday ratings coup is enough to soften even the hardest heart. Try holding back your tears when the young mute boy whispers "Merry Christmas" and thus sparking the "Put A Little Love in Your Heart" sing-a-long to give the film a warm and spirited coda.
1.) DIE HARD
It's Christmas Eve and terrorists have taken over an LA high-rise. Who're you gonna call? This is my perennial holiday favorite movie. Not only is it the supremest of the supreme action movies, but there is nothing short of awesome in this kick-ass romp of a joy watching John McClain take out an entire platoon of Euro-trash hired goons. And he did it all barefoot and shirtless. A. Mazing. Yippi Ki Ay indeed.

I truly hope that this holiday season brings you safe and sound memories. May you receive the blessings that you don't deserve but aspire for anyway. I raise a glass to you that read these posts and send in your always welcome feedback. Merry Christmas!

A Heapin' Helpin' of Good Cheer

2009-12-22T14:40:00.000-08:00

The stockings are hung on the chimney, though I can't say much care went into the process. The bells are jingling, the stars are twinkling, and the egg is nogging. It's the countdown to that ever-so special time of year. While clock ticks away the final moments of the 2009 Noel, I feel that some preliminary recollections are in order. But, in the spirit of the season, I think I'll save those momento mori for next week. While this year has certainly held some wonderful surprises for yours truly, there have certainly been a tad too many ebbs to counteract the flow. I'm occasionally feeling like Joseph deeling with the years of few, though I can't seem to find my techincolor dreamcoat anywhere. I've seen the passing of some dear friends. I've also closed the book on a few personal relationships that have left their share of scars. It's been a tough market year, and my wallet gasps for breath everytime a bill arrives. Not one to spend my time enumerating all my "woes are me", I think I'll move on to the plus side of having a crappy snappy year: giant meals of food!
Yes, if there is a meat-flavored silver lining to every dark cloud, then it would have to be that collection of heart-warming recipes that you keep secure until the days when the long night begins to set in. Not that a good meal is the best medicine, but a nice dish cooked with the right blend of special herbs and feeling can make the dreary, depressing, cold-cruel world seem a little more tolerable. I think it's fair to say that the past few weeks haven't been filled with as much bliss as I would prefer. I decided that I was going to rectify this slump by going to visit an old friend: comfort food.
The dish I'm going to regale you with today is one of my personal favorites. It's not particularly fancy. It's not exotic, expensive, or difficult to make. It's just good, old-fashioned love in a casserole dish. If you should find yourself in a melancholic mood, this is the perfect meal for you. There's enough to feed some friends (who should be caring enough to help you through whatever tragedy du jour has befallen you of late), it's fun to create, and you will genuinely feel your spirits lift and waistband expand all in the name of culinary relief. Ladies and gummyworms, may I proudly present to you the aptly named: DIVINE CASSEROLE!

To be honest, I have no idea where this recipe orginates. I am a confessed foody who revels in his own refined palate. I have a taste for the luxurious, and a desire to indulge my most extravagant gastronomical dreams. But this dish doesn't really fall into the category of the white-linen fare. It probably wouldn't appear on the menu of the restaurant elite, but that's part of the charm of this dish. I fondly remember my mother introducing this to our family when we were growing up. Though I don't remember exactly when she cooked it the first time, I do remember it being a weekly staple for my formative years. And it was a staple that I looked forward to with more relish than taco tuesdays.
The ingredients: Meat, pasta, cheese, sauce, and every good thought you can muster.
Cooking should never be overindulgent. Cooking should be about preparing something that will satisfy your hunger in the best possible way. It's not just about filling your belly, but it's equally important to provide a sustenance that encompasses your very being. Otherwise, we'd eat raw meat and drink water. Cooking allows us to express ourselves through our creations. This dish isn't about flair, or fanciful design. It's about taking good food, and making it better, deliciously more palatable, and truly satiating.
To start, take 2 lbs of ground meat. Generally I prefer round or sirloin (when the budget allows). Occasionally I'll replace 1 lb of beef with a pound of sausage to get a nice flavorful mix. Brown the meat and add in your favorite tomato sauce. At this point in the recipe, it's more about what you prefer than what I like. Whatever you like to do to a simple meat sauce, now is the time to make it happen! I will also add some garlic, and chopped onion. By the time you have the meat mixing with the sauce, the aroma should start to take its' effect. If you're still pissy or sad, you should let the fragrant meat bouquet begin to ease the negative out of your system.
Now for the pasta: Generally I'll use egg noodles for this dish, but if you have a certain nostalgic preferment for another type of pasta, then by all means substitute. I opt for the egg noodles because I think their consistency really compliments the meat sauce. You want something that I will hold up in the oven as you will eventually put this in the oven.
While your noodles are cooking (in seasoned water, of course), mix together 8 oz. of sour cream, one block of cream cheese, and a container of cottage cheese. Feel free to taste test this blend. If your spirits weren't feeling the improvement while the meat was cooking, a little spoonful of this should give your mood a shimmy and a shake. To add a bit of textural flavor, chop up a few green onions.
Once the noodles are ready, strain them and pour half of them into a large casserole dish. Layer the cheese mixture over the noodles, then add the rest of the noodles. Top off the dish with your meat sauce. A little sprinkling of parmesan cheese might just do the trick if you're feeling extra blue. Put the dish into an oven pre-heated to 350 degrees. Cook for about 30-45 minutes.
Now, if you're dining alone, I might suggest that you go easy onthe wine as no problem gets that much better with vintage. If you're having friends over, this dish pairs well with a big, full-bodied cabernet, or a zinfandel. You want a good hearty wine.

After you've eaten, if you don't feel even the slightest bit better, perhaps your problems are just too deep for one helping. Go ahead and pile another serving on that plate and let the magic of the casserole work its' divine power on your psyche. Or may I suggest punching a small child?

Send Me Your Life-Savings, or God is Going To "Murderize" Me.

2009-12-16T15:27:00.000-08:00

Today is truly a sad day for anyone who has ever put money in an envelope because the TV made them feel guilty. The premiere televangelist, Oral Roberts, has passed on to the great self-named university in the sky. While there is nothing funny about death, or the passing of a beloved and revered figure, I did want to take this opportunity and dedicate today's post to a man who has given me so much material over the years. So many jokes were created at his expense. I feel that comedy owes him a true debt of gratitude for his unconcious contributions over the years.
For a man who once proclaimed on television that God was going to kill him if he didn't raise 8 million dollars for his ministry, Oral Roberts' 91 years were nothing short of entertaining. Comparing the almighty to North Jersey hitman and exceeding your fundraising goals is nothing short of impressive. He was able to keep a straight face while telling his viewers that a 900 ft Jesus appeared to him in a dream and told him to build a hospital. I like the concept of desiring to heal the sick, but do you really need a gargantuan deity's demand to make it happen?
Let's face it, this guy was obviously concerned with the welfare of his flock, and for that he should be applauded. Sure, he may have looked like "Bear" Bryant's gay brother, but he was certainly a man who was earnest in his attempts to increase cash flow for the Lord. He was willing to put his own reputation on the line to get God the big bucks. Kudos for that.
One of my favorite apocryphal anecdotes (read 'jokes') deals with a prayer meeting between Billy Graham and Oral Roberts. They were discussing the ins and outs of financial management of their respective ministries. Not one to shy away from matters of personal income, the Rev. Roberts asked Mr. Graham how he chose his salary. I think this is a good point. If one is raising only a few dollars a month, then one can't expect himself (or our Heavenly Father, for that matter) to truly make a living. However, if one were bringing in the millions, is a commission biblically acceptable? "How much of the offerings do you keep for yourself, and how much goes to your ministry?", Roberts asked. "Well, what I do," began Graham, "is draw a large circle on the floor of my office. I pray that God will grant me wisdom and help to intervene in the decision making process. Then I take the daily tithes and put them in a basket. I stand directly in the middle of the circle and throw the money in the air. Every dime that lands inside the circle goes directly to the ministry to pay for mission work, evangelism, and charity. Every thing that lands outside the circle I feel has been set aside by God's hand as a way of paying my own salary and living expenses. This way I feel like the Lord is able to tell me what is right to keep, and what belongs to him." Oral Roberts shook his head in an understanding manner. "You know, Billy, that sounds really similar to what I do. I also put all the daily tithes in a basket and toss the money in the air. I then pray to God, telling him that whatever he catches, he can keep".
I do think that Roberts had a progressive impact on the nature of television ministry. I'm sure that while his pockets were fattening up, the faith of his viewers was being enhanced. God does work in mysterious ways, and sometimes he chooses to use the words of a schmuck to prove his love for all of us. Of course God loves us, he sends us these putzes to flower our joke gardens.
I sincerely hope that those who felt that Roberts' ministry was worthwhile, may continue to find that peace and understanding that only comes with a healthy faith. I also hope that his family is able to recover from their loss. Seeing a loved one leave is never easy. In this case, I'm sure he's off to a better place. When he's standing in line to walkthrough the pearly gates, I'm sure St. Peter will look at him and say "Sorry, 900 ft. Jesus says you can't come in until you raise another $2 million." After seeing the crestfallen look on the pastor's face, St. Peter will then smile and say, "Nah, just kidding, man. Come on in, I have you booked for a golf game with Sen. Kennedy."
And so I say farewell to this man who has inspired me to laugh at his contemporaries and send my money directly to other charities. In all seriousness, I do think that the world is a better place when men like Oral Roberts are able to use their gifts for good and not just for personal gain. I'm sure there are many lives that have felt comfort in a time of hurting thanks to his words of counsel. There are lives that took what he said (whether he meant it or not) and were able to find peace during a time of loss. For that, thank-you Oral Roberts.

Epilogue.
I would like to point out that I was able to do this entire post without making any off-color jokes about the fact that his first name was Oral. I'm sure his son Richard would be proud. Yes, a man who grew up having to tell people his name was "Oral" named his own child "Dick". There truly is a God.

Rage and Blow

2009-12-15T14:00:00.000-08:00

Friday morning began with my overzealous alarm clock telling me that I was no longer able to enjoy the comforts of my warm bed. The hiddeous, shrill, electronic beeping forced me to swing my legs out, kicking a pile of unfolded laundry in the process, and make my descent on the world for yet another day. I was scheduled to go into the studio and do some recordings. As a freelance voice actor, one cannot look a financial gift-horse in its' molars. From time to time I do voice-recordings for a telecommunications company that designs phone and message systems for a variety of businesses. If you're ever in Newfoundland and get a call reminding you that your doctor's appointment is coming up and you should remember to bring your medical forms, or if you're enjoying a day in Hawaii but get a call from the power company telling you to pay your bill, you're most likely hearing my voice as the gentle, yet insistent message relaying important payment information. This is, by no means difficult work, but it does require me to be out of the house and functioning much earlier than I prefer.
On this day, the sky was quite overcast, and the temperatures were making their December trek down the other side of the comfort mountain. I stopped by a convenience store for a cup of caffeine. Not really liking the choices, I opted for a machine-dispensed, coffee/foam drink. I took one sip of the vanilla-meets-feet concoction, and knew I was in for a great day.
While paying for my crappuccino, I made some innocent small talk with the bearded attendant. She was a nice lady. I decided to keep the conversation pleasant while waiting for my card to be read. Instead of telling her how her hat was a nice distraction from her mustache, I thought it more prudent to discuss the weather. After a brief but amiable dialogue on the consistent inconsistency of the local weather patterns, I bid my adieu and left for my date with a microphone.
I realized while driving, that I tend to have conversations about the weather quite frequently. That seems to be my go-to topic when talking with people and I run out of things of consequence to discuss. Weather talk is innoccuous, plain, and guaranteed to stay in the realm of pleasant. But, not only do I discuss the weather, I've begun complaining about it more and more. Without being given any official warnings, I've suddenly become a curmudgeon, capable of ranting about the weather and not much else. This realization struck home with a vengeance. Surely I could find more interesting things to talk about than rising humidity, and the fact that it was nice outside yesterday, but today just looks unfavorable. "Unfavorable!?" People my age do not use that word in connection with the weather unless they add "conditions for extreme sports this afternoon after I pound some beers". I am only inches away from yelling at kids to "get off my damn lawn".
But I like talking about the weather. I'm no meteorol..., meteorit...I'm no weatherman, but I do find a source of genuine entertainment in the awesome power of nature. I'm drawn to disaster movies where man is battling with the elements, and the elements keep winning. There's something exciting about watching the sky grow black in the middle of the day, and you feel that cold rush of air as you realize that God just turned on the cosmic showers and the water pressure is good. I like seeing the clouds turn their menacing gaze on little old me. I feel both empowered and awed by the thrill of knowing that "this could be the perfect storm."
Maybe it's that sense of urgency that accompanies a feeling of impending doom, but great weather inspires me to want to be social and find a place with others so we can collectively brace ourselves against nature's brute brunt. Open the taps, and let's ride this one out together!

All Your Business Dreams Can Come True

2009-12-10T16:12:00.000-08:00

I may be industrious, to a degree. I may be creative. I can count some of my more impressive life achievements as part and parcel of following that mysterious American Dream. I like to think of myself as forward-thinking and capable of extra-box thought. All that being said, I know that the world of business is not my playground. I am an artist, not a suit. I have come to terms with this. I know that there's no MBA waiting at the end of my career tunnel. I am fine with this. But this is no reason for me not to let my brain wander into the realm of free-enterprise. From time to time, I envision new and exciting businesses. Most of them tend to be restaurant-centered as I spend a lot of time eating. Today, in this relatively short post (a welcome relief for some of you), I thought I'd share one of my million dollar ideas. Go ahead and feel free to see if you can follow the little white rabbit of capitolism and see this idea turn into your own little cash cow. All I ask in return is a minor share of the profits....and a free parking space with my own little golden plaque.
Eating out can be fun and adventurous. Oftentimes, going to a restaurant is just as much about the social aspect as it is about the menu. While there are some restrictions to this norm, those who dine out with frequency tend to go to places where they're not just holed up in a dark booth. When you go to a restaurant you want both your stomach and your soul to be sated. You want entertainment options in case your date turns out to be a schmuck or vapid prude. Sports bars are great to watch a game with friends. Pubs are great places to enjoy the company of companions and strangers. Fine dining establishments offer you a bit of flair with the fare to keep you engaged in your meal. Sometimes, though, you might be in the mood for a real adventure. A guessing game. For those occasions when the rest isn't just cutting it, then come on down to my restaurant (concept): BREAKFAST AND EGGS!
Now, you're probably saying "Surely there are enough breakfast-type restaurants out there to not warrant the need for another one." I would have to disagree with you and also ask that you not call me an adverb. My restaurant may have a simple name, but I can assure you that the concept is far from ordinary.

THE MENU
When you arrive and are taken to your seat by a buxom co-ed paying her way through school by herding diners to booths, you will be given a plain white menu. On the inside you will see two items:
Eggs........................................$15.00
Breakfast................................$1.00
That's it. nothing more. Allow me to explain the genius behind this lack of description. For $15 you can have some of the best eggs you've ever eaten in your life. You can have them cooked any way you like (boiled, poached, fried, over-easy, scrambled, in an omelet) and as many as you can eat. These eggs will make you feel as though you've never eaten eggs before. These eggs will remind you of all your favorite childhood memories. These eggs will be little yellow glimpses of heaven.
Breakfast, on the other hand, will be dish that's a mystery. Breakfast might consist of a NY strip steak, or it may be a can of spam. Breakfast could be lobster bisque, or it might be an empty crab shell. You will never know what you're going to get when you order breakfast. And that's where the true beauty lies. I believe that humans love to gamble, and that's what will make this restaurant soar! It's like a dining experience to rival "Let's Make A Deal". You can take the safe bet and order the eggs. While the price might be fairly steep, you can rest assured that you're getting a good-quality meal. Or, you can go the cheap route and see if your culinary gamble pays off. Sure, you might end up with smoked salmon and shrimp Napoleon for an insane price, or you might be paying a dollar to have the head chef come out and give you a list of reasons as to why your mother never really liked you. It's a crapshoot.

THE STAFF
No theme restaurant would be complete without a staff that strictly adheres to the overall vision of the eatery. At "Breakfast and Eggs", our staff will be highly trained in the arts of superb service. The uniforms should reflect those that consumers most want to see in a fine dining establishment: The men will wear expertly tailored tuxedos, white ties, and smartly shined black shoes. The women will wear bikinis.
The waitstaff will encourage patrons to steer away from ordering the breakfast. They will act in the customer's best interest by doing so. They will remind repeat visitors of unsightly breakfasts that have come before, while coaxing new patrons to play it safe and go with the eggs.
"Sir, if you recall your last visit with us, your wife ordered the eggs and was treated to a lovely quiche lorraine, while your breakfast was a pie to the face. I would suggest that the gentleman try the eggs this time."
Part of the fun of coming to a place like "Breakfast and Eggs" will be to see other diners' reactions to the good, the bad, and inedible breakfast orders. Sure, you may see someone feasting on lamb chops with a port wine sauce. There's no guarantee that when you order breakfast that it won't be just a plate of lamb fur smothered in Thunderbird. It's the creativity that keeps them coming back.

Today marks the first week of posting on this site. I do hope that if you're reading these musings, that you'll consider leaving a comment. It's always nice to know what others like/dislike. Also, check out some of the sponsors. They're good people who may not know that they're contributing to the downfall of the written word.
Thanks for reading!

May The Bard Be With You

2009-12-09T14:56:00.000-08:00

Superstitions tend to be a big part of our lives. Whether we're crossing our fingers, knocking on wood, or rubbing a fat man's belly. We believe that luck can be achieved despite fate. If something sends a bad omen, we avoid it, walk the other way, step tentatively wherever we go. No crossing under a ladder, change your path when you see a black cat, and, for god's sake, don't pick up that quarter that's tails up. Perhaps superstitions are derived from common sense, or perhaps they're carryovers from some medieval remedy. It frankly doesn't matter. If you want to tempt fate, then by all means smash that mirror and see if you get that new job.
The world of theatre, much like sports, is filled with both personal and universal superstitions. I know plenty of actors who have to keep to their pre-show regimen or their performance will suffer. The cynic in me wants to tell some of them that wearing green on show day has no bearing on the fact that they suck. But try getting that point across to a tempermental diva. You'd be lucky enough to walk away with only one half of your face cat-clawed.
Of the more universal theatre superstions, there's the "Break a leg" instead of "Good Luck" well wishing that is fairly common knowledge. The roots of this tradition are as varied in myth as discovering who actually wrote "Proud Mary". The derivative is unimportant, the result is the key. Probably the most potent of the theatre superstitions is one that I personally adhere to. Never, under any circumstances, even if your life depends on it, ever, ever, ever speak the name of Shakespeare's dreaded Scottish Tragedy "Macb*#&!" In some circles you may only be mercifully sent to do a series of twists, spins, spits, and laps around the property before regaining entrance. In others, even quoting a line from this cursed play will get you black-balled and on the bus home before the final syllable has left your mouth.
In thinking about this play, which is actually a good one to see done in performance, I thought I might share some personal recollections of my experience with this particular superstion. As our theatre company is looking at including this play in our 2010 season, I think it prudent to remember some of the less-than-sterling moments from the last time I attempted this production. Sure, it may have only killed some careers, but it left an indelible mark on my psyche that shan't be erased.

A DRESSING ROOM BY ANY OTHER NAME WOULD SMELL AS TERRIBLE
I had the pleasure of playing the role of Malcolm in this particular production. For the most part, the cast was a delight to work with. Though there were varying levels of professionalism amongst some of the fake lairds, there was a healthy comraderie, and a great sense of friendship that developed through the players. Part of this friendship transpired as we approached the dress rehearsals. We were doing this show in the dead of August. The average daily temperature was in the high 90's, with the humidity surpassing that of a high-powered sauna. The producers of this show wanted to have a real "authentic" look, so we were dressed in layers of wool, leather, and flannel to give us that Clan mentality. Needless to say, these costumes were not exactly climate-appropriate offstage. I think most of us were able to lose quite a bit of unwanted weight due to the constant sweat that built up through each performance.
I shared a dressing room with two other guys. One of my fellow cast members was someone who, for lack of a better phrase, smelled like broken dreams and old hamburgers. The stench that drifted away from this guy under normal circumstances was enough to cut a 10' circle of terror around him. After two hours of building up a funk that could fight the furies, our pigpen could peel the paint off the walls when he began to undress. The smell would hit you like a wave of death, and your only hope was either to run for fresh air or pass out and awake in the hospital where the smell of urine and dying would be a sweet relief.
Luckily for me, this guy was in his early fifties, and not in the greatest physical shape (one whiff and any good doctor could probably detect a handful of odorous maladies). Our dressing room was in the attic area over the front of the theatre. To get there, you had to exit the back of the building, go outside, climb some exterior stairs, and then cross through some halls before you arrived. Every night after curtain call became a race for my life as I tore through the backstage running faster than a Jamaican Bolt. I took the stairs three and four at a time, tearing at my costume on the way. I knew that I had to get in there, change, and be well clear of the room before my smelly mirror-mate could get to the hall where the fans would waft the vile reeking air into my innocent nostrils. For the most part, I was able to accomplish this safely. On one occasion, however, I was not as lucky. For some reason, I wasn't making as good time as I'd thought. I was just bending over to unlace my leather mocs to hang with the rest of my costume. Before I was finished with one shoe, the door opened, and in sauntered the agent of olfactory death. I mumbled a "good show" as I was trying to conserve precious breath. He started peeling off the first soaking layer, and then he paused. "I think something I had for dinner must have disagreed with me. My stomach has been in knots all night". He was casual in this familiarity with me. He was trying to make light conversation, but I immediately knew that it was only a preemptive apology for what was surely coming. Only moments after making this little commentary on his evening meal, he did what I can only describe as use his body to create pure, malevolent evil. I have been around farts before. I have known people to be gassy. I admit that I can find easy humor in a bathroom concerto. This was not one of those light, airy, jaunty little farts that makes you smile. This man used his bowels to concoct a green-fumed spectre that was threatening to eat away at my very existence. Seriously, my eyes were burning. The mixture of BO and BM was something that could be used to get spies to turn on their country, or cause martyrs of the faith to recant their beliefs. The rest of the changing experience was a blur as I rapidly threw my clothes on and stumbled out into the inviting summer heat, welcoming the cleansing heavy air to wash the taint of wickedness from off my skin. To this day, I still have nightmares about reliving that experience, only this time the door is locked, and I can't escape. Death then becomes welcome and appreciated.

OH YEAH, YOU AND WHAT ARMY?
During the run of the show, there were moments that our audience was treated to some great unscripted drama. I have always loved Malcolm's plan to surprise Mackers (and fulfill the Witch's prophecy that the Usurper would remain on the throne until "Birnam Wood shall come to Dunsinane"). As he gathers a haphazard group of ragtag ruffians to join him in the siege of the castle, his great military tactic is to tell them: "Let every soldier hew him down a bough and bear't before him. Thereby shall we shadow the numbers of our host and make discovery err in report of us." (Act V scene 4). This brilliant tactician's concept is for the soldiers to cut down some branches and hold them in front of each other so they can hide while they march towards the castle. Take a moment for that to sink in. The army is hiding behind branches! Apparently Malcolm is taking his cue from the Looney Tunes school of warfare.
Despite the great planning this scene seemed to have its' own share of constant troubles. Under normal circumstances, I would make my entrance from upstage center, while the other soldiers (about seven in number) would enter from stage left. When the lights would come up, there I would be above the rabble, ready to give them Shakespeare's version of "Win one for the Gipper". In one instance, I made my entrance and was in place when the lights came up, but there was a significant lack of soldiers for me to address. Apparently, not all of the other actors were ready to go on cue, so the lights come up on me and an army of one poor, little extra. I suppose if you're going to attack a castle with sticks, the number of men you have fighting with you is irrelevant.
On another occasion, I had my full army and I began to speak. I started the speech beautifully, and was flawless in the first few lines. After that point, however, my brain decided to shut down and take a power nap. The Bard's text completely failed me. I had absolutely no clue as to what I was supposed to say next. This is an occasional problem for actors. When faced with this situation, the best thing is to fake a line, and wait for someone to save your irresponsible ass. But, in order for this to work, you must stop speaking. This was the problem: while my brain decided to take a vacation, it never gave my mouth any instructions. I realized that I never actually stopped speaking despite the fact that I had no clue what I was saying. I began to deliver some of the most nonsensical utterances with a fiery passion. I was staying in character, but what was coming out of my mouth was utterly illogical. "And this, that thou hast once had, with thine own self, to the which, that there were, to the ends, could be mine, runneth..." I was using as much antiquated phrasing as I had in my repetoire, hoping that if I stayed true to the moment the audience wouldn't even notice. At one point, I'm pretty sure I made up a few words as I looked on my soldiers and avowed, "To the rest, mine Fero". As soon as it came out of my mouth, my brain clicked on but failed to restart. It just went right to the thesaurus in my head searching for the word "Fero". What the hell was a fero? I looked down at my fellow actors who were giving me glassy-eyed stares filled with a "You do realize none of this makes sense?" kind of look. I saw one of my friends looking down to avoid eye-contact. I noticed his shoulders shaking like someone fighting desperately to suppress audible laughter.
Eventually I ended my speech and let the scene die its' necessary death. As soon as were out of earshot of the audience, my teary-eyed friend put his hand on my shoulder and said "Well done, Fero".

HEADS MAY NOT ROLL, BUT THEY SURE AS HELL MIGHT BOUNCE
So at the risk of spoiling the plot for those of you who slept through high school, the usurper is eventually defeated and the son of the slain king is now enshrined as the new leader. In other words, my character, Malcolm, wins the play. The final scene is a nice image of Scottish patriotism as Malcolm stands ready to take the throne, and the head of the murderous king is brought in on a pike. Unless you have a slew of actors that you're willing to off to create a nice effect, chances are you're going to be using a fake head. Our fake head was a fairly realistic styrofoam conction with a tousled wig, and blood stained cheeks. From a distance, I'm sure it did the trick. Up close, it was a little odd and creepy.
In our version, Macduff enters, and with a sweeping grandiosity announces "Behold where lies the usurper's cursed head!" He then removes a bloodied burlap sack to reveal the prop head. Usually this gets a nice reaction from the audience as modern folks sure do love their dismembodied parts. One night our over-zealous Macduff decided to put a little extra mustard on his sack ripping and seemed to grab the dummy-head's wig in his handful of burlap.
A simple lesson in physics later and the head pops right off the pike and falls out of the bag. Now, had this been planned for, this would have made an outstanding effect. Unfortunately, this particular head was made to be seen and not heard. The audience was treated to a thoroughly unrealistic patter as the sound of styrofoam met wood, and the head rolled right into plain view of the audience. Once again, immediately following this cock-up is my line, so a spotlight is able to catch my bewildered expression as I try to gracefully and professionally move on with the end of the play. It's not everyday when an actor is upstaged by nerf.

Life in theatre is rewarding both in its' tangible and intangible treats. Much like battle-scars, most actors wear their bad shows as badges of honor. A good story signifies that you've experienced humiliation, and you haven't quit yet. While superstitions come and go, I have learned that Shakespeare's tragedy is certainly cursed, but not necessarily in the life-threating way that others might present. For me, the curse is that the production will never be boring, or status quo. Heads may fall, actors my stink (even when they don't show up), and imaginations may take liberties with the text, but the show must go on.

Did You Hear That?

2009-12-08T13:51:00.000-08:00

I think it's safe to say that I have an eclectic taste in music and entertainment. I'm not one to thrust my artistic interests on others just to enhance my prestige in their perception. Sure, I enjoy reading Shakespeare, Umberto Eco, and Thomas Aquinas, but I also subscribe to MAD magazine. Sometimes I will select a nice foreign film to enjoy the evening, sometimes I just want to see things explode while half-naked women endure the shenanigans of the geeky guys down the street. Being pretentious for prentention's sake is not my cup of lipton. If I want to listen to a symphony, I will listen to a symphony. If I want to listen to Wham, I'll listen to Wham (and never admit it to a living soul).
Last night I had the pleasure of attending a yearly concert performance of Handel's "Messiah". What a great holiday tradition. The music sounded great, the singers were gifted, it was an overall enjoyable experience. Prior to the orchestra's opening notes, however, it was a decidedly different story. We were greeted and told that there would be a pre-concert performance by a local children's choir. Immediately I felt the shortness of breath and anxiety of an awkward band dork walking up to the hot girl he had a crush on to see if she wanted to go on a date (and yes I am drawing on sensory recall to make that comparison. Incidentally, the girl said no, and band dork walked away. Coincidentally, the hot girl is now fat and living with her alcoholic husband while the band dork runs his own theatre company....but I digest). The sweaty, sticky, sensation that was overcoming me had nothing to do with the quality of the upcoming performance. Nor did it have anything to do with children. One of my most unnatural fears was going to play out in this church sanctuary: children's choir music!!
Don't get me wrong. I love kids, and I fully support the arts. I think more and more children should have the opportunity to find their creative expression in as many different outlets as possible. These performers were top-notch. They were virtually flawless. But, this is what brought on the fear. As I sat in the pew, feeling the paranoia explode, I was experiencing that all-too-familiar sensation of abject fear. Thanks to the magic of Hollywood and my imagination, this innocuous and innocent choir of cherubs was evoking images of Children of the Corn, and creepy demon possession. I was suddenly unable to concentrate on what should be considered beautiful music by talented young singers. Instead, I was nervously looking around, waiting for the death and destruction from above that would coincide with the live soundtrack being showcased from the altar. This is what irrational fear is made of.
I thought that I would spend your reading time today talking about that little debilitating kick-to-the-crotch Achilles' Heel that can bring us all down: Fear. Now, certainly there are things that should warrant our fear should they become imminent. Excruciating death, dismemberment, or even just oncoming pain. These are rational fears. These are not the fears that I am talking about. Today I want to talk about the silly (under certain circumstances) fears that frighten the bejeezus out of me. Read on, if you dare.
1.) IT'S NEVER SAFE TO GO BACK IN THE WATER.
I am deathly afraid of wide open expanses of water. Be they lakes, oceans, rivers, large pools, it doesn't matter. I'm not going in, on, through, or within any expanse of water larger than a wading pool. Even the deep end of the pool can give me the willies. Why? Am I afeard of drowning? Frightened of being alone? Nope. The answer is simple and falls neatly into the irrational category: Sharks. Sharks are evil-looking death machines, whose sole purpose in life is to chase you down and eat you piece by piece. They're sneaky. You go in the water and everything's calm, and then BAM! Out of nowhere this hulking fin pops up and you find yourself swimming in red Kool Aid. Quint, the salty fisherman in the first "JAWS" movie, made damn sure that I was never going near a body of water ever again. Hearing his description of the "doll's eyes", was enough to keep mine firmly shut.
"OK, Mr. Murrill", you say with passive aplomb, "That may explain the ocean, but what about the other types of water you describe?" Well, smart-ass, that's exactly my point. Thanks to an over-active imagination, Sharks can easily exist in rivers, lakes, and even the giant tidal pools that water parks feature. There I am wading in a land-locked lake, minding my own business, and all of a sudden I hear the opening bass notes of that terrifying theme. For all I know, some crazy supervillain has flown in white sharks to breed in this particular lake, and their humongous genetically-altered brains have been wired to hunt down Brent-meat. No thank-you!
2.) FROM THE PENALTY BOX TO THE FRONT DOOR
I spent a good amount of time playing at my grandparent's house during my more formative years. There was a path that led from my grandmother's house to my aunt's house next door. Many times, playing with my cousins, we would be terrorizing the neighborhood until well-after dark. When this was the case, I knew I would have to walk home in less than ideal lighting. This also meant taking this path which went right in front of a large Azalea bush. During the day, this bush was elegant with its seasonal offerings of redish pink blooms. The colors bursting from the hunter green canopy in a way that was so charmingly southern. At night, gone were the simple pretty flowers. This thing was not a source of wonder and natural awe, it was the home of Jason Vorhees! Yes, I was absolutely certain that the machete-wielding disgruntled goalie was lurking in the bush waiting for little innocent me to walk right into his trap of doom. He was certainly patient, but he was bound to get me.
To this day, I wake up from nightmares where I'm being chased by this slow-moving backwoods behemoth. I know there's no use turning around to fight him as he can survive, fire, drowning, the deep recesses of outer space, Hell itself, shotguns, beheading, cannon fire, nuclear blasts, Joe Lieberman, and even sub-frozen temperatures. Throw anything you want at him and he'll continue to plod his way after you. I'm still not sure what he wants with me. I'm no big-breasted co-ed, I'm not a wayward stoner, I didn't kill his mother, I don't work at a summer camp (anymore). I shouldn't be his normal fare, but yet he still pursues me with that otherworldly devotion of a hell hound for its' prey.

Fear is what drives us upon occasion, but it can also impede our progress. There are many things that keep me up at night, drenched in a cold sweat. Do I let them have an active role in the decision-making process for me? Not necessarily, but I certainly avoid situations (rational or otherwise) when my fears can manifest themselves in all-too-real ways. Perhaps, if I am being chased down by Mr. Vorhees, I should find a shark tank and see if battling it out with Jaws will distract him. Just my luck, they would make a fin-to-hand agreement and swear to join forces. The next thing I would see would be a great white with a hockey mask. I think I'll sleep with the lights on tonight!

Hello Bypass, My Old Friend

2009-12-07T08:30:00.000-08:00

I fondly remember growing up watching "The Cosby Show". That Greenwich brownstone housed many fabricated memories for me. It was the birthplace of a family unit that was both entertaining and inspiring. When I watched, I felt like I was sharing their moments with them. I felt like I was one of the Huxtables. As I've grown older, I realize that sometimes it's difficult to distinguish what happened in my youth with what was happening on the show. It seemed as though my life and the scripted family's journey were intertwined. Was I with Rudy and her friends when Cliff took them all to the fancy restaurant and Bud thought the croutons were sawdust? Was I in the car that got hit by Stevie Wonder's limo? Maybe I was one of Theo's wrestling teammates, or I was Vanessa's boyfriend Robert?
It's difficult to fully assess the differences in reality and NBC programming, nor can I judge the limits of impact that Claire's stern, yet loving mother had on my decision-making. Regardless, the show helped to mold me into the person that I am today. That being said, there are inspirations that were less than lofty. Sure, I'll never go to a party and play the alphabet game while drinking rock-gut whiskey. I'll never try to take a helicopter to prom. These are good life-lessons. But what about the things that I picked up that could have detrimental consequences?
I am, by all accounts, a registered foody. I love food. I love to cook. I love to eat. I love when food is brought to me. I love discovering new and exciting ways of preparing the same-old tired dishes. Food is exciting. Food can fill up not only your stomach, but your sense of worth. Heathcliff Huxtable loved food. I always looked forward to the shows where his culinary taste was displayed. Whether it was BBQ, a massive Hoagie, or even that secret spaghetti sauce, Cliff was a man with finely-tuned tastebuds. I would watch his cooking and feel the need to emulate what he was doing in the kitchen. It always sounded good. But not every dish deserved to be replicated. Enter: The Bacon Burger Dog.
In a few apocryphal episodes, this elusive mystery was mentioned as the major enticement to Theo and his unappetizingly-named friend Walter. (As I have a phobia of certain types of bugs, I'll refrain from using his nom du pest). The exact recipe was never discussed so my imagination had to craft what I envisioned as the perfect grilling beast. I dreamed about what it must taste like. I dreamed of designing this sure-fire backyard treat. Two years ago, I decided to make my dreams become reality.
Since the writers were wise enough to never explain what this delicacy was made of, I had to come up with a recipe on my own. Taking the name, I knew that there had to be bacon and elements of both a hamburger and a hotdog. Here's where the genius came in. I laid out five slices of thick-cut, applewood smoked bacon. This was going to be the palette upon which my masterpiece would be constructed. I then began to mix up some ground sirloin with the various spices, condiments, and tastes of heaven that I would normally use for making a hamburger patty. A little garlic, some Worcestshire sauce, some blackening seasoning, a little red wine vinegar, a hail mary or two, and then some Italian bread crumbs and an egg to bind. Over the bacon-y goodness I spread this mash of red meat perfection. I now had two of the three components down. Bacon? Check. Burger? Check. Dog? Here comes the piece de resistance'. I didn't want any plain old wieners to taint the glory of this dish. I needed a dog worthy of being part of this mystical trifecta. I needed a big fat sausage. I opted for some locally produced bratwurst. I took this little grey pork grenade and began to roll it up in the bacon and hamburger. Pretty soon I had a giant meat spliff that was ready for cooking. Picture it: weighing in at nearly three pounds, it was about three inches in diameter, and about eight inches long. As it sat there on my counter top, I began to hear angel choirs singing the praises of a creation so divine. It was a thing of carnivorous beauty.
So now that it was prepared, bring on the heat! Over an open flame, much like my neanderthal predecessors, I roasted this staggering gem until it was fully cooked. As the smoke wafted throughout my backyard, animals began to let their nosebud curiosity draw them closer to inspect what was obviously a true work of art. One neighborhood dog seemed to look at me with a kinship rarely seen between animal and man. His big brown eyes weren't of envy but of congratulations. It was if he were saying to me "Hey, man, well done. I applaud your efforts at creating something so right." He was giving me his canine vote of confidence. To show my generosity, I responded my offering him some of the fat drippings that were collecting. He ate with a relish that made my own mouth water in anticipation for that upon which I would soon be feasting. I'm pretty sure I saw him raise his forepaw and give me a thumbs up.
Once my Bacon Burger Dog was grilled to its quintessence, I took it back inside to prepare the fixin's. In prior anticipation for the expected size, I knew that no mortal bun would suffice to carry this thing. I had purchased a sizeable Italian loaf that would be fortunate enough to house the sacred meat. A little mayo, mustard, bbq sauce, tomatoes, onions, and cheese later, I was ready to start the dining experience that I had yearned for ever since my tastebuds were piqued while hearing Dr. Huxtable mention this elusive treat. I took a few bites (noting that my mouth was in no way large enough to do anything other than nibble the outsides). As I tasted what can only be described as the food equivalent of a first kiss, I was sent into a nirvana of sensual delight. The bacon (which can make any food taste better) was perfectly cooked. The flavor of the hamburger mixed with the sausage was nearly poetic. It was like I was looking into the face of God, and he was pleased. Soon, however, God began to wear a different expression.
You see, this is not a dish for the faint of heart. This is a dietician's nightmare. Meat, bread, and dressings in copious quantities. One of these BBD's could feed a starving nation for a month. Gluttony is listed as a deadly sin for a good and natural reason. As I continued to attack this monster with a verve usually seen only in shark feeding frenzies, my body and my desire began to battle for supremacy. The very smell of this thing would be enough to give a normal person a massive coronary. The manufacture of one of these could send a cardiologist's children to college. This was not meant for human consumption. But yet, I stared into the face of destruction and ignored rational thought. This is when the meat sweats started.
You know that feeling of growing exhaustion and serious perspiration that accompanies a heavy workout? If you experience those same feelings while having a meal, something is terribly, horribly, republicanly wrong. I had to wipe my brow repeatedly, but I was not willing to throw in the paper towel. I would trudge on. This was my great white whale. I kept eating. Then I noticed that I was starting to lose feeling on one side of my face while the other side was tingling? Is this a stroke? Are my heart and brain telling me to stop? Ha! You're going to have to do better than that. I've waited since my childhood to experience this cuisine, and I'm not going to let a little possible ephasia or blindness stop me now!
I managed a few more bites before realizing that this thing was only getting bigger and heavier in my hand. I was fighting it. I was a marathon runner in the last six miles. I was swimming and could almost see the English coast just over the channel's horizon. Only, I just couldn't do it anymore. I was beaten. I had been defeated by a massive roll of beef, pork, and German engineering. I sank back into my red chair and accepted the food coma that was washing over me. If I woke in heaven, I wouldn't need to eat a thing.

Eventually I recovered, vowing that never again would I attempt to copy any aspect of Bill Cosby's diet. No matter how good it sounded, I would certainly regret it. Only after this abusive experience did I remember the episode where all the men of New York were mysteriously getting pregnant. Towards the end of the episode we saw each of the Huxtable men (including husbands Martin and Elvin) giving birth to objects signifying their hopes and personality. Cliff Huxtable became the proud father of a meat-riddled sandwich and a two litre grape soda. Mazel Tov!

It's Game Time, Do You Care Where Your Children Are?

2009-12-04T15:28:00.000-08:00

In "The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe", Lily Tomlin says "My life got so busy that I had to give up something, so I chose reality." I can't think of a better way to begin today's post than by recognizing the familiarity of that statement. One of our favorite pastimes as a culture is to separate ourselves from the day-to-day. That's why we go to movies, that's why we immerse ourselves in literature, that's why we turn our cell phones off in the theatre, that's why we look at web porn. We want so desperately to escape our own humdrum stresses, that we need to let go of reality for a while, and focus on something else.
This is my favorite time of year. Yes, the exciting drama of the countdown between Thanksgiving and New Year's is filled with fun, family, frivolity, and other F-words. But, I also find this end of the calendar to be most enjoyable because it's championship season in football. Between high school teams vying for that state championship on under the crisp Friday night lights, to the colleges competing for conference championships in the hopes of making an elite bowl game, this is excitement. The drama is real and Shakespearean in its' scope. The athletes have prepared their whole lives to withstand 60 minutes of sheer anxiety, pressure, and that tension and energy that comes from playing before a packed house of rowdy fans. And that's what I want to focus on today: The fans.
Yes, yes, I know that athletes get the credit for the wins, and the blame for the losses. Yes, games are played out on the field and not in front of the TV. Passes are thrown from the line of scrimmage, and not from the armchair. I understand that as reality, but fandom opens a whole new universe where the die-hards are blissfully divorced from said reality. Take me, for instance. I recognize that on game day, the rest of the world stops. From kickoff to the final ticks of the fourth quarter, my world exists solely in between the hashmarks, only from a much safer distance.
Being a true fan means a lot more than being a casual observer of the game. Remember, fan is short for fanatic (and a more appropriate sobriquet does not apply). For the uninitiated into the world of true fandom, may I offer some helpful insights below:

1.) THE RITUALS MORE SACRED THAN CATHOLIC RITES
As game day arrives, there are certain preparations that must take place. I am quite positive that the players are going through their stretches, mental walkthroughs, and emotional revving up. That's all great and good, but you cannot overlook the amount of work the fan has done in getting ready for the kickoff.
A. First, there's the attire. To gain the proper mojo, you need to have your game day shirt. For some it's a jersey, for others a pullover. A simple t-shirt, a button-down modelled after the one your coach is wearing, or maybe even a concoction of home-made means. Regardless, you have the shirt, the shoes, the pants, the body paint (which is still appropriate, even if you are viewing from home), and all of the proper gear ready to go. This outfit will not change. Ever. My own game day shirt looks like it hosted a moth bar mitzvah. It has unidentifiable stains from the various pre-game meals from over the years. It's not fit for public wear. But every Saturday during football season, I pull it out of its' safe home amongst the other, fancier t-shirts, and wear it like a tuxedo. I once had a girlfriend who wanted to do something special for me, so she went out and bought a new, fresh, shirt, almost identical (though in much better condition) to my own relic. She just couldn't understand why I wouldn't wear it instead. I didn't understand why she wanted my team to lose because I would be wearing an illicit forgery. She told me I was too concerned with football. I told her she was too concerned with being a bitch. She is no longer in the picture, so let's move on.
B. Second, there's the mental focus. You must know your team like you know the sundry condiments in the back of your fridge. Starters for defense, offense, special teams. You have to be able to identify substitutions when they occur. Sure, you may not be able to remember other trivial stuff like dates for anniversaries, spousal birthdays, or even your kids' full names, but you will know every jersey number, first and last name, and high school for every player on the roster. It's your job. I am ready to step in and take over the play-calling should the coordinators or coaches become suddenly ill. You must have your concentration skills at their highest peak. How else can you give them imaginary high fives, and chest bumps?
C. Finally, there's the physical preparation. I do calisthenics that would make a 1960's workout video jealous. I am limber, cat-like and nimble in my movements, and ready to toss my football back and forth between hands. I have my pump-up playlist that includes various versions of the fight song (including one sung by a drag queen), and other appropriate music. I have given my body the temple treatment it deserves, I am ready to cheer.

2.) IT'S GAME TIME, WATCH WHERE YOU STEP
Once the game begins, I am like an alchemist, carefully weighing every movement I make and judging its' effect on what's happening on the field. If I reach for a chip and my team fumbles, there will be no more pringles for the duration of the game. If I stand up and my team scores, chairs become instantly verboten. I adhere to the chaos principle's "butterfly effect". I know that what I am doing while watching the game, no matter how trivial or insignificant, can have drastic and outstanding effects on a game being played hundreds of miles away. Yeah, that second blocked kick came as the result of me standing on one foot with a beer can poised over my head in the most amazing display of balance ever exhibited! I have been known to contort myself into ridiculous positions if I see positive consequences. I completely believe in the power of football feng shui. It's the small sacrifices that a fan is willing to make that help bring home the trophies.

3.) THE SPACE TIME CONTINUUM CAN BE ALTERED BY A FAN
There are, upon occasion, times when I am unable to watch a game live. These are stressful times, but I must make do. Thanks to the magic of DVR, I can record the game while I'm making my presence known at some unnecessary wedding scheduled by an insensitive bride and her whipped husband. I can occupy my brain with other thoughts while sitting through an ungodly production of "Wizard of Oz". I can stay focused until I can get back to the sanctity and sweetness of my living room and press play. Granted, the biggest obstacle in these instances is avoiding any and all contact with anyone who might be watching (or have already watched) the game. I carefully screen my calls with the muddled: "Ifyouknowthescoreofthegamedon'tsayanythingorI'llhurtyourchildren!" I ignore all text messages. I steer clear of TVs, and keep my radio tuned to the safe sounds of NPR (I figure the day NPR starts reporting college scores is a sign of the coming armageddon and I now have bigger things to worry about...i.e. the blood and fire falling from the sky). This can be difficult, but when I finally get to watch the game, it's new to me therefore, I can cheer and yell as though my words will travel through time to play their magic on something whose outcome has already occurred. I am back in my comfort zone.

4.) THE CONCLUSION HAS A STRONG BEARING ON THE REST OF THE DAY.
So the game is over, and what you do now is dictated by the outcome. If your team has just routed the opponent, you are energetic. You can celebrate moderately (unless it was against a major rival, in which case you douse yourself in champagne and call every living alumni of the rival school that you know and give them a litany of reasons as to why they might want to consider professional help). You can also go about the rest of your day or evening feeling confident, cock-sure, and full of that winning attitude that came so easily for you and your team.
If it was a last-minute, nail-biting, butt-clinching, brow-sweating final catch in the endzone, or field goal that gets blocked to add another W to your team's win/loss column, then you hug, kiss, congratulate, shake hands with, and virtually molest everyone else in the room as though you yourself had just been elected President of the US, before melting into a pool of exhaustion with a face that will carry a perpetual grin for the next seven days.
If the same scenario as above occurs, only with the game ending in a loss, then it's best to have a friend remove all breakables from within your reach before they become projectiles of death upon your TV.
If it's your team that received the beatdown, then you casually turn the TV off, burn your game day shirt, and ask "what's for dinner?"

Being a real fan often means having to explain your behavior to others. My friend Mike (who regrettably finds himself frequently working during the game), has been known to walk around his place of business with four fingers proudly held up to signify the dominance that is about to occur as the seconds pass into the opening of the fourth quarter. This is excusable to other fans. The rest of the world just needs to catch up. Afterall, it's our choice to step away from reality, we should be applauded.

Fans go through so much for their teams. The victories are hard fought, the minutes are filled with racing heartbeats, joyous highs, and inconsolable lows. When the game is over and you see the winning results posted on the scoreboard, you pride yourself in a game well watched, cheered, and generally aided. I suppose some credit goes to the players. Afterall, they helped.

Fun Times With the Bible, Part I: Genesis

2009-12-03T15:48:00.001-08:00

I love to read. I find sheer joy in opening up a new book and feeling the crackle of the pages, knowing that I could be the first person to enjoy the contents it so lovingly binds together. Then, there is the thrill of finding an old book. Perhaps an antique perfectly preserved, or a forgotten desk piece, I find myself gaining a clearer consciousness of my fragility as a human when I am holding something that has been read countless times before. It's as though I'm attached to those who have gone before. Books are great. Books are sources of information and entertainment. It's much like TV or the internet, but with fewer Viagra ads.
I recently decided to comb through my personal library and begin reading books that I've amassed over the years, but never actually read. I am finding all sorts of gems that have laid dormant on dusty shelves since I first rescued them from other dustier shelves. Though this task has become a rather daunting one (with a reading list that now is stacked to my office ceiling several times over), I've decided to intersperse it with some other reading. Enter The Bible.
Now I did have a fairly structured upbringing where church attendance numbered in the multiple-times-a-week category. I sat through many a Sunday morning, evening, and Wednesday night Prayer Meeting sermon. I am quite sure that I was well-exposed to the Bible. In college, I took religion courses spanning both the Judeo-Christian world, as well as introductions to other World Religions. I am not unfamiliar to the Bible. Granted, it has been sometime since I purposfully cracked it's leather covers for reasons other than a Jeopardy! answer. But I still felt like I had a decent grasp of this holiest of tomes.
One week ago I decided that, in addition to my copious daily reading of my long-lost book collection, I would also begin going piecemeal through the Bible from cover to cover. After all, isn't that the way a book should be read? From start to finish? I have begun to jot down some of the more interesting concepts, facts, and idiosyncracies that I have come across in my journey through God's word. Being ever the cynic, I thought I'd share them with you periodically. So, without further ado let me present to you: FUN TIMES WITH THE BIBLE, Part I: GENESIS!!

Commonly referred to as Genesis, this is the first book of the five books attributed to Moses. Yes, Moses. Or Charleton Heston if you're a cinephile. We all know the basic stories that are introduced in this book: the Creation of Man, Noah and the Ark, Jacob wrestling the Angel, Abraham's attempt to sacrifice his son, Joseph and his Andrew Lloyd Webber Musical, and so many more. There's a treasure trove of great things to be found in this book. Today I want to focus on six things I've learned in the Book of Genesis.

1.) IF YOU WANT TO PROTECT YOUR GUESTS FROM A RAPE-HUNGRY CROWD, OFFER YOUR DAUGHTERS AS A SACRIFICE.
Chapter 19. Lot, the nephew of Abraham, has decided to take up residence in the original Sin City: Sodom. Here can be found any and all types of debauchery that would set your hedonistic hearts aflutter. God, deciding that this much wickedness must surely be punished, sends two angels to visit Lot and convince him to leave town before the rain of fire comes down. Seeing two handsome angelic figures, a crowd of lust-hungry men begins to form outside of Lot's house. They begin to beat on the door, demanding that Lot send his hunky guests out so the crowd can "know them". Lot, being ever so the generous host, decides that it would be in bad form to subject his two new friends to the "knowing" that awaits them. He steps outside to address the crowd and says: "Behold now, I have two daughters which have not known man; let me, I pray you, bring them out unto you, and do ye to them as is good in your eyes: only unto these men do nothing; for therefore came they under the shadow of my roof." (Genesis 19:8).
Well, isn't that the picture of a loving father. It's clear why God would want to save the life of this man who so bravely offers his VIRGIN daughters to a sex-starved crowd of horny men. Years later, as Lot sat drinking from his world's greatest dad coffee mug, chipping of a bit of salt from the pillar that used to be his curious wife, I wonder if he regretted his choice. This chapter is great biblical storytelling. Fire, virgins, butt-sex, and angels wielding swords to smite the evil homosexuals. So, the moral is: sex between men=bad; offering to let a hormone-enraged crowd rampage your pure daughters=OK!

2.) SHAKING HANDS IS FOR SISSIES, REAL MEN SWEAR OATHS BY TOUCHING EATH OTHER'S THIGHS.
"And Abraham said unto his eldest servant of his house, that ruled over all that he had, Put, I pray thee, thy hand under my thigh: And I will make thee swear by the Lord, the God of heaven, and the God of the earth..." (Genesis 24:2-3). I noticed this odd ritual early on, and I saw that it kept reoccuring whenever a solemn oath was taking place. This is quirky. Instead of shaking hands, hugging it out, or even offering the sacred pinky-swear, men of the Old Testament would seal oaths by grabbing the backs of each other's thighs. Yes, ass-grabbing was the period of choice to cap off any agreement made with true verve. Imagine yourself at a business meeting. Your client has now offered a considerable addendum to the contract. He extends his hand to make it final, you turn around and drop trou. I can see a small-claims court Judge asking the defendent if he "grabbed cheek" or if there was only a grazing of the ham to decide on property rights. This is something we might want to revive. My only real question: does clinching work the same way as crossing one's fingers?

3.) JACOB WAS KIND OF A DOUCHEBAG
The man who would later be called Israel. The man who would father many nations. The man who would leg-drop an angel. Jacob was many things, but first and foremost, he was quite a douchebag....especially to his brother. We all know that Jacob had a twin brother, Esau. One day Esau (their father's favorite) had been out hunting and asked his brother to make him some food. Seeing his Esau claiming that he would die without sustenance, Jacob says "Sure, I'll make you some food. But first you should sell me your birthright". If that ain't brotherly love, I don't know what is. Later, when their beloved father was on his deathbed, he called Esau to his side and asked his son to go kill a deer and bring it to him. While Esau was doing his father's bidding, Jacob quickly prepares some venison of his own and brings it to his father (now blind with old-age). He claims to be Esau and asks for his father's blessing. To complete the ruse, the smooth-skinned Jacob had attached goat skins to his arms to give off the impress that he was the obviously hairy Esau. Ignoring the fact that the bible is telling us that Esau must have had fur growing on him, Isaac is fooled by his son and offers the blessing to Jacob instead of Esau. Curses! Foiled again!

4.) CIRCUMCISION AS A RED HERRING
In chapter 34 we get the best military tactic ever! Jacob's daughter Dinah was taken by a prince, Shechem, and summarily raped because he fell in love with her. Shechem then goes to his father to ask Jacob if he could marry the defiled girl. Jacob, learning that her purity was no more, decided to take this oppportunity for revenge. Jacob tells Shechem's father (Hamor, for those of you keeping score at home) that it would be impossible for his daughter to marry an uncircumcised man. Jacob then suggested that if Shechem and all the men in their village would each undergo a circumcision to signify their interest in the covenant with God, then not only could Shechem marry Dinah, but Jacob would allow all of his daughters to be married to the men of Hamor's village. Ready to get some good ol' Israelite lovin', Hamor consents to the surgery. "And it came to pass on the third day, when they were sore, that two of the sons of Jacob, Simeon and Levi, Dinah's brethren, took each man his sword, and came upon the city boldly, and slew all the males. And they slew Hamor and Shechem his son with the edge of the sword, and took Dinah out of Shechem's house, and went out. The sons of Jacob came upon the slain, and spoiled the city, because they had defiled their sister." (Genesis 34:25-27). What a way to go out! There you are, laid up in bed with primitive painkillers on your junk, and two men with swords come in to hack you to bits. If only our government were smart enough to employ this methodology to the war on terror. Circumcision: better than napalm!

5.) IF YOU DON'T STOP ONAN, YOU'LL GO BLIND!
Tucked away gently in the midst of the story of Joseph and his technicolor adventures, is the story of two brothers: Er and Onan. For years I had heard the legend of Onan and his sin of spilling his seed on the ground. Supposedly this was supposed to be warning against masturbation or the misuse of one's "seed". So what does the Bible have to say about this story? "And Er, Judah's firstborn, was wicked in the sight of the Lord; and the Lord slew him. And Judah said to Onan, go in unto thy brother's wife, and marry her, and raise up seed to thy brothre. And Onan knew that the seed should not be his; and he went in unto his brother's wife, that he spilled it on the ground, lest that he should give seed to his brother. And the thing which he did displeased the Lord: wherefore he slew him also."(Genesis 38: 7-10). So, I have a few questions. Namely, what the hell did Er do that was so "wicked". In just this one book of the Bible we've seen God let cities, and civilizations build up before he takes any smiting action. Instead of any explanation (much less a warning to learn from Er's mistakes) we just read that "he was a little shit and God took him out". So then Judah tells his son to go sleep with his own sister-in-law to honor his brother. Apparently I'm not following Judah's logic, but I'm willing to give it the benefit of the doubt if she's hot. Onan decides that nailing her is fine, he just doesn't want her knocked up with a kid that will be considered his smitten brother's. This was certainly the wrong time to pull out! I also love how the final verse just says that God was displeased and decided to slay Onan as well. Too much smiting, too little time.

6.) HOME IS WHERE THE BOWELS ARE.
The King James Version of the scriptures have often left me wondering why some many modern, church-going folks feel the need to hold on to this antiquated, and obviously inaccurate translation of their sacred verses. I, on the other hand, find this version to be filled with quaint verbage, and hilarious euphemisms. Take chapter 43 for example. Joseph had been thrown in a pit by his jealous brothers (it seemed as though they weren't content with second-billing in the West End). He had been sold into slavery, accused of "knowing" his boss's wife, thrown into jail, being pardoned out of jail for his ability to interpret dreams, and ultimately becoming second-in-command of all Egypt. It's the Rudy of Bible feel-good stories. After many years of separation, Joseph is reunited with his brothers who fail to recognize that this now-powerful bronzed figure is also their left-for dead brother. Joseph feeling a little tug at his heartstrings reacts this way: "And Joseph made haste; for his bowels did yearn upon his brother; and he sought where to weep; and he entered into his chamber and wept there." (Genesis 43:30). What the hell does this mean? Is this author saying he was so sad he had stomach cramps? Or that he felt a sudden urge to do the Egyptian two-step? Or that he just needed a good cry? What do his bowels have to do with his feelings? In other places I had seen bowels used where maybe heart might have been a more appropriate organ. 'Yes, Rachael loved Jacob, her bowels moved for him.' Doesn't quite have that Hallmark-y ring to it.

And so as I draw this second post to a conclusion, I must point out that while I'm only one book in, I can't wait for what the other 65 have in store. By no means is this an attack on the holiness of religion. This is more of an editorial on man's secretarial skills. Afterall, isn't one of the main messages of the bible that: Man is flawed, God is not? If this post is something that rattles your faith, then personally you have bigger problems than the spirit knocking on the door of your bowels.

You Too Can Travel the World (If Your IQ is Below 80)

2009-12-02T17:08:00.000-08:00

There are many times during the course of any particular day when the world can seem to rain heavy on you like a brimming bowl of juggernaut soup. I'm sure it must feel like there's this Andre-the-Giant-sized weight sitting on top of you, and nowhere can you find a balding man in yellow underpants to bodyslam it away. When the fates seem to be giving you the stink-eye, rest assured that you're probably not alone.
In this quickly-devolving economic crisis, we are all feeling the relentless pinch just a bit more prickly this time of year. The pockets seem to be drying up, the tinsel on the tree isn't filling you with the same glittery comfort, and the egg isn't as noggy as you remember it in years gone by. Hopefully you're not feeling the sudden urge to take the angel's dive off the douglas fir, and find yourself scattered about the carpet like a wayward ornament. It's in this vein that I want to help you find some comfort. Rest, Ye merrie readers, 'tis the season to don yourself with the gayest apparel despite what your machismoistic better instincts tell you. Go ahead and put on that cherry-red sweater with the stuffed snowman with puffball eyes. It's the holidays, time to get festive!
And speaking of festive, I can think of no better way to grind the yule gears than by looking at the life lessons that are ever-present around us all. Case in point: let's learn a few things from an Oscar-winning film.

The other night I had the opportunity to watch (for the first time in years) "Forrest Gump". As I sat in my comfy red leather chair drinking my boxed wine, I realized that this movie is rife with rules for better living. It's a cornucopia of ideals for improving one's way of accepting the pits and pratfalls of just another day on God's green. So, as a means of sharing the gift of learning, I now present to you: "Things I learned from watching 'Forrest Gump".

1.) IF YOU REALLY REALLY LOVE SOMEONE, WAIT FOR THEM TO GET AIDS, REALIZE THEY NEED A FATHER FOR THEIR CHILD (WHICH YOU SIRED UNKNOWINGLY), AND THEN THEY WILL BE YOURS FOR THE LAST FEW WEEKS OF THEIR DRUG-ADDLED LIFE.
Yes, for a movie with such a sweet premise, it does teach us to be patient with our feelings for that special someone. I think this is important. Let's say you meet the girl of your dreams while the two of you are still in grade school. Of course, at that age it would be too early to foster a blossoming relationship, so wait until you're both in college, and then you might get to cop a feel (after you beat up her date). This is progress, though be prepared to let her go off and be a stripper (since that's the most natural progression to becoming a legitimate singer) before you run into her again in the midst of a massive peace rally. Ah yes, now you're probably thinking that life has come full circle and the time for your togetherness has come. But, hold on, she still needs to go back to California and experience the joys of disco and the drug trade. After she feels the cool rush of the needle, she will come for a visit. While the romance of a rainstorm brings her to your bed, the real heartstrings have yet to be tugged as you need to let her sneak off in the early morning to go live life as a waitress. By this point, you are doing what any natural man would do, and that is to remain celibate and keep yourself in good shape (running several thousand miles should do it). Finally, after years of no contact (not even to let you know that the one and only time you ever had sex WITH ANYONE it did indeed result in the birth of a little boy) she writes you a letter. Yes, a letter. Once you are able to figure out public transportation, the two of you can live a very happy (albeit short) life together. After all, you've earned it buddy!

2.) IF YOU THROW ROCKS AT THE SWEETLY RETARDED, YOU ARE HELPING THEM TO ACHEIVE THEIR LIFE'S DREAMS.
We all remember the scene, little Forrest, with his surgical braces still imprisoning his legs, is attacked by local hooligans who mock his stutter and hurl rocks at his face. With the drawling words of Jenny's "Run, Forrest, run!" echoing through his ears, the adolescent wunderkind takes off down the dirt road where the literal and metaphorical shackles that have hindered him now release him to gain inhuman speeds and leave his attackers feasting on his dust. From here, his running literally takes him anywhere he can imagine: to college, through the military, around the world, etc. So the life lesson here, is that while we booed those little impish brats for their prejudice against someone different from themselves, they were really only helping to propel this child into the superstardom that was his to take. I am reminded of the "sticks and stones" adage that we used to chant as children. Perhaps it should be amended to "Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but if you keep throwing things at me I will one day be super-rich". I wouldn't advise testing this one without a good lawyer's number on speed dial.

3.) IF YOU YELL AND CURSE AT GOD DURING THE MIDST OF A MAJOR HURRICANE, IT WILL IMPROVE YOUR FAILING BUSINESS.
There he was, perched like a profit on the wind-blown crow's nest. With his bandanna failing to keep his water-logged locks from slapping him the face, Lt. Dan decided to taunt the Almighty while giant waves and gail-force winds slapped at the tempest-tossed shrimp boat. As he struggled to maintain his grip on both the mast and reality, our favourite leg-less fisherman decided that the middle of a massive storm was the best time to call God to the carpet. Now, I am a man of faith, though not necessarily one who attends service regularly. I can't think of any time (especially when death at sea is imminent) that I might want to throw the guantlet down against a deity of choice. Yet, miraculously, both the captain and his poop deck are able to weather the storm. Not only do they come out victorious against the elements, their business (which was surely near bankruptcy before the clouds rolled in) is now the only game in town. I suppose that the more pious of Bubba Gump's competition found themselves in less than immaculate situations. Maybe playing Devil's Advocate to a modern Job will reap you benefits.

4.) CITY BUS SCHEDULES ARE SLOW ENOUGH THAT YOU HAVE TIME TO TELL YOUR WHOLE LIFE STORY TO COMPLETE STRANGERS.
Imagine a long day waiting tables, or wading through bridge-circle gossip, or chasing after your toddler, or even just wheezing through your day as an obese businessman and you find yourself at the bus stop. Surely, you'd rather just let the minutes tick off one by one for the next two hours, but instead, you get treated to a cavalcade of Candide-like exploits by a man with a box full of chocolates and homespun "mama-isms". I have spent my time in cities where the average traveller is at the mercy of transportation timetables that didn't necessarily have that Mussolini touch. But never was I in a delay in which I had enough time to hear the rhapsodic waxings of a man who could have purchased private cars for everyone who shared that bench with him. Thank-God those people weren't sharing a bench with someone whose autobiography was in volume form. I can sometimes imagine Hell as one of those situations where you're forced to listen to someone else go through the mind-numbing details of their every day despite your own desire to just go home, put on the Aretha, and enjoy your wine spritzer.

5.) ALL OF LIFE CAN BE SUMMARIZED BY A F&!*ING FEATHER!
You've just seen your only son taken off to school by the chain-smoking bus driver and you see this pristine little blessing from heaven float down and land at your feet. You've had a fascinating life that is no where near over, and here you see this little metaphor for your whole existence dancing in the breeze as if to remind you of your own insignificance. I'm all for symbols, but really? A feather? Was a rainbow too much? Was there not enough in the budget for a whole bird? Do we really need to see this plumage to realize the cycle of life? Apparently, no matter how many great and wonderful things you are able to accomplish (whether it's saving the lives of friends, fighting for your country, meeting star athletes, celebrities, and presidents, and the countless other incredible feats that befell our idiot savant) you are no more important than the molted feather of some mysteriously white bird. How poetic. How just.

As I draw this inaugural post to a conclusion, I find it necessary to point out that while life may be likened to a package of candy, or stupid both is and does, I think that the world around us is full with many opportunities to engage our minds, quicken our heartbeats, and let our spirits soar. Avoid getting in fights during the middle of Black Panther rallies. Seats not offered will only lead you to the people who will change your life. And if God could make you into a bird to fly far away, would you really want him to?