The Big Parade

So, I decided to treat myself to a movie on Friday, and this is the title that came up. The Big Parade  is a silent film from 1925 set during the First World War. It features a young dandy named Jim who throws in and joins the army (much to his mother's chagrin) where he befriends two working class gentlemen: the perpetual tobacco gob chewing Slim, and the tough but hard-luck Bull. After being deployed to France, his unit spends several (weeks? months?) at a small French village where, despite being engaged to someone back home, Jim falls hard for the feisty (and I think absolutely gorgeous) Melisande, played by Renee Adoree:

Isn't she adorkable? I was so sad to hear she died of TB only a couple of years after the filming of this movie. 

Their courtship is delightfully slapstick, involving a barrel, bare buttocks, chewing gum, a swift right hook,and many many giggles. You really can't help but smile watching the pair struggle to convey their mutual attraction across the language barrier (something which seems to work especially well in silent film as medium). 

Another thing about silent film, which I love, is the fact that because so much work must go into making the visuals communicate the story, you could pretty much take a screencap of any point in the film and frame it and put it up on your wall. 

As an experiment, lets do just that: 

1) Jim hits on Melisande on the riverbank. Sure, I'd make this into a poster! Their smiles are so lovely. 

2) The new recruits are greeted by "Flying Fitz" in this scene. Maybe not posterworthy, but definitely could have a small copy in a frame. 

3) . . .And this happened . . .

Well, maybe not. 

Anyway, what I really admired about this movie was the abrupt turnaround it made in the second half. This was a turnaround which was wholly uncharacteristic for the time. The movie went from patriotic beginnings, to the cheerful silly warm days in the village in France, to portraying (probably at least somewhat accurately given how close it was in memory in 1925, and based on my own understanding of how the war was tactically--or not tactically-- fought) the absolute Hell WWI put those boys through. And by "those boys" I don't just mean the Americans--the film turns out to be surprisingly sympathetic to all sides fighting (something we could stand to see a little more of in our war films today, I might add). 

The phrase "The Big Parade" alters meaning entirely from the beginning of the movie to the end. At the start, there is a jubilant sort of excitement as the "Parade" is a patriotic march to the front and to glory. By the end, we are shown a long trail of medical vehicles hauling the wounded back from the front, and the caption comes up "Another Big Parade." 

The field hospital where Jim winds up after taking an arrow to the knee is also portrayed with a sort of chilling accuracy unlike anything we see in renditions of the war today. Flies are everywhere, crawling over our heroes face,  and in a bed near Jim, a man is tied down, screaming in the throes of PTSD. There are no pretty, spankable nurses to be seen, and the "hospital" is not really anything like a hospital-- just rows of cots in a gutted out church. Jim himself appears to have been altered by his experiences at the front. Something sour, blank, and haunted has come over his expression and if you were to compare him to the dandy from the start of the movie, you would hardly recognize the same man. 

This was a time when few but the writers wanted to talk about the human costs of the war (and even the writers did so in a less than direct manner), but The Big Parade takes it on with directness and humanity, tempered with comedy and a bit of drama. This could easily have been a fluffy romantic film. It could easily have been *enjoyable* as a fluffy romantic film. But it went one step further, and that's what made it a classic worthy of preservation in the National Film Registry. 

A Monk's Secret

Monastic living has always had some sort of allure to me. This lovely little documentary gives you a  great feeling for what that life is like. It brings together Quebec, the Prairies, Canadian History, and most importantly, cheese. Within the context of cheese (and I mean, who can resist a documentary about cheese?), the documentary takes on some of the challenges facing modern monasteries all over the world. Its also a good opportunity to listen to some french, which I appreciated, lol.

A Monk's Secret by Yves Étienne Massicotte, National Film Board of Canada

Rock-a-Doodle

Further evidence that fits of nostalgia are never a good thing. I have been having fragmented memories of a movie from my childhood involving an elvis-like rooster, and a flood. So, I googled "rock rooster movie" and immediately found Rock-a-Doodle.

As with many things from childhood, this movie, when viewed from the eyes of adulthood is TERRIBLE. More than that, its DISTURBING.

The movie features a cast consisting of:

* A neurotic pig
* A crack-head magpie with a lasagna fetish, and claustrophobia.
* A dog who can't tie his damn shoes.
* An evil overlord Owl who does cross-stitch in his spare time
* A slutty pheasant who subsists on valium
* An Elvis impersonating Rooster.
* Owls of varying sizes (they get large and shrink for no real reason).
*A bad mother: *shakes fever stricken son* EDMOND, EDMOND SWEETIE WAKE UP
*An abused and mentally unstable owl nephew
*A main character who gets turned into a kitten for no real reason, wears a davey jones cap, has a horrible speech impediment, and dies from it.
And a mouse. . .there was a mouse.

Moral of the story? Don't walk down memory lane.

Flywheel

So, every so often, I enjoy watching a REALLY BAD Christian movie. I think part of the reason I enjoy this is because I spent four months too many working at Western Canada's largest distributor of Christian books' warehouse. Anyway, Christian movies (with the exception of veggie tales, which can actually be delightfully witty, and stfu if you think otherwise) have a penchant for being terribly written, and even more poorly acted.

Flywheel, the enthralling tale of a crooked used car salesman turned straight, is no exception.

The movie begins with some epic piano music in the opening credits. It should be noted that this epic piano music DOES NOT STOP AT ALL anywhere throughout the movie. The main character, Jay, has trouble taking his morning shit? You can be damn sure that has its own musical score in soaring piano notes. This is funny enough in itself. What makes the movie even more funny is the fact that it's set in Arkansas, and the actors are all definitely untrained, and most certainly from the south.

Its like if the cast of the Honey Boo Boo show were sort of able to read and sort of act off of a script that had been written by a man who had watched nothing but television preachers and eaten nothing but Chik-fil-a for his entire adult life. Realism abounds as these bible belt idiots fumble through their lines, laugh like wheeeeweeee, make constipated faces and resort to psalms when at a loss for better words (which is frequently). One part did have me laughing out loud, though, and that's when our used car salesman gets his ASS CHEWED by some sassy old black lady and her even older, even blacker mother. That was totally worth it. (Magical African American Friend, anyone?)

The funniest part of this movie, however, is that it was made in 2003, and yet manages to pull itself together with all of the low-budget graininess, bad musical scores, and value-village wardrobe of a B-movie in the 1980's. Now, I don't know how many of my readers have been down south, but the big bible belters do seem to be stuck in the 80's, so , I suppose, realism strikes again. 

Somehow, Flywheel manages to go on in this manner for TWO hours. Don't worry, I was multitasking heavily, so it wasn't two hours of my life wasted. Anyway, its always nice to have the reminder of why I never want to ever get back in the business of selling christian shit again in my life. 

Session 9

Was in the mood for a scary movie tonight, so Scott suggested Session 9, a psychological horror flick centered on a team of (interestingly) asbestos removers as they work in an abandoned insane asylum. First off, major props for making asbestos part of a horror film in an abandoned building. Realism ftw. The building they were working in was pretty damn cool too. It sorta set my inner archivist alive with the desire to salvage mental patient records (which could never be opened to the  public anyway, but meh). Municipal archives were also mentioned in the movie. So, props for that too. 

The main character was inexplicably Irish (?). His best friend was named Phil, this guy: 

Session 9

Who you may better recognize as this guy: 

CSI Miami

I know, I know, CSI to asbestos remover is a hard mental leap to make, but if you squint real hard, you can almost see the similarities between the two characters.

Moving on, the movie had a number of elements which make psychological horror one of my favorite genres. The cinematography was great, the setting suitably eerie, the characters just realistic enough (I especially loved mullet kid), the subplots twisty and leaving you hungry for more,  the background music just subtle enough to keep you on edge, and a nice slow buildup. 

However, the movie was also lacking a major element which I think is in some ways essential to pulling off good psych horror (she says pedantically). That is the potential for a supernatural alternative, to keep the audience guessing. It was made quite clear throughout the film that nothing supernatural could possibly be happening in the abandoned mental institution. I mean, for gossakes, when the lights flickered and the power went out, we were shown the generator running out of gas. No mystery there. I think it is important that psych horror have some *potential* for the supernatural to be there. . .bizarre hallucinations, tales of hauntings, weird reflections in mirrors as a red herring for the audience. Without that, the only challenge is in figuring out who's psyche we are inside of (in the case of Session 9, we are given ample and obvious clues, so even that mystery is taken from us), and once that has been discovered, all that is left is to lay money down on who will be the first and the last to die, and how the deaths will occur. Once again, props to Session 9 for the murder method, very cool. 

Given that the two biggest "mysteries" of psych horror were given away fairly early on (the reality of the situation, and whodunit), the subplots took precedence, as with the unraveling of the story of one of the former inmates of the asylum, or the bizarre love triangle between Phil, Hank, and Amy. I would almost like to see the story of the former inmate as its own movie. Shit was creepy. The slow tension buildup was well done, though the payoff in terms of gore at the end was a little disappointing. However, overall, I liked the way the movie dealt with psychotic meltdown, and how it is perceived both by the one undergoing it, and those around him. That part was very well done, and it seemed fairly well researched by the writer. 

Another interesting note: Women are completely absent in the real time of this film. They exist only as flashbacks, on the other end of the phone, or in conversation. I'm sure there's some sort of deeper meaning in there, but I'm not sure what it is. 

So, overall, not the best psych horror I've seen in terms of scare factor, but if you're going for realism in setting, story, and mental illness, this might be a good place to look.  

Barefoot Gen

**Warning, contains some links to unsettling images**

Last night I watched Barefoot Gen, (1983 movie) which is the story of a young boy's experiences in Hiroshima during the latter part of the war, including, and following the atomic bombing.

Barefoot Gen is based (loosely) on the real life experiences of the original manga's original author, Keiji Nakazawa, and it manages to be both unflinching, heartfelt, and retain a sort of hopeful innocence that was totally unexpected, for me. That's not to say that Barefoot Gen sugarcoats the war, or the horrors of the atomic bombing. Far from it. 80's styled animation or no, there were some scenes that made me feel a little queasy, like the group of half-dead radiation victims stumbling blindly in search of help, one mother with a charred baby on her back.

However, even as the movie reminds us of the horrors of war, and the terrible pains human beings can inflict on one another, it staunchly refuses to point fingers. Americans are not demonized, nor are the Japanese or anyone else. The only place where blame is laid is with those on both sides who are hungry for bloodshed for its own sake.

Despite the movie's dark gruesomeness, as we watch half of Gen's family killed, watch the people of Hiroshima suffer through extreme burns, radiation sickness, and malnutrition, it manages to end on a note of hope, and of love, as Gen resolves to strive for a better future in the memory of those he has lost.

However, just to keep myself from getting too upbeat about it, I also spent an hour looking at actual images of victims of the bombings. I know that might sound a little twisted, and maybe it is, but for me I find that if I look at this kind of horror and really think about it hard at least once a year, it really puts things into perspective. My own physical, mental, and emotional problems seem so small in comparison to the suffering gone through by the real life counterparts of Gen and his family, that I really reinforce my own desire to become a better, more understanding, less sensitive, and less self-pitying individual.

Is using the suffering of others in this way self serving? Maybe. But hey, if I'm going to be self-serving, I might as well do it to the good.

Things I've Learned This Week

* Jogging can be fun!
* I don't actually know how to jog. I run. Like a cross country runner. Or a demented gazelle. CURSE YOU MR. BUSWELL!!!
*Bon Cop Bad Cop is an awesome movie. An English/French/100% Canadian hybrid, that perfectly combines comedy with the macabre, with some damn fine acting-- Watch it!
* Final Fantasy: The Spirit Within is an awesome animated movie, which makes you think about science vs. magic vs. faith (without intending to). All star voice cast. Watch it!
* Lords of Dogtown is an awesome (and unflinching)  movie about the early days of the skateboarding culture in California. Watch it!
* Red State is an awesome Kevin Smith Movie, that manages to be horror, and tense cop film and tongue-in-cheek social-commentary all rolled into one. Watch it! 
*You can never watch too many good movies in one weekend.
* Robert Downey Jr. can't always save a film (Due Date)
* My boyfriend can fly.
* (My boyfriend can fly when he's not falling down and breaking things)
* Wet weather is depressing.
* The student clinic here is super fast during the summer.
* The most difficult part of the day is remembering to take the garbage out.
* I am sad that I was born too late for Christian Slater. 
* I have an arch nemesis in the form of an Asian dude in a black leather jacket, black leather pants, with a utility pouch on his thigh, who glares at me, making direct eye contact through the bus window as I travel past him. . .
* Too much candy is a beautiful thing. 

The Most Awkward Man

Recently watched Ghost Rider Two: Spirit of Vengeance with the man-thing (his idea). It was surprisingly much better than the first. Not amazing or thought-provoking cinema by any means, but the jokes were good, the female co-star was hot, and the story actually seemed to get better as the movie progressed (weird, huh?).

Still, the role of Johnny Blaze is not one I have an easy time reconciling Nic Cage with. He is too old. His face is too naturally serious. He doesn't know how to act (then again, comic book movie, maybe not a pre-requisite -- I'ma get burned for that one ^_^u).

All in all, the man is just too AWKWARD to be playing a motorcycle riding, molten chain tossing tormented soulless creature of divine retribution.

Johnny Blaze

I don't know if its just me, but I don't see the similarity. 

More pics of Nic Cage being awkward promoting ghostrider: 

"You want me to hold my arms naturally? Like this?"

"Oooh! Naturally!. .. 
Like this!"

"But if I don't crouch behind
the poster, how will people
read it?"

"Bless you, my son"

Promoting Sorcerer's Apprentice, Cage shows that his awkwardness is contagious: 

Not only is the man himself awkward, but so are his fan sites. Here are a few gems I found around the intarwebs:
-Cagealot Castle: Where Nicholas Cage and Awesome Collide
- Nicky's Vixens: The International Nicholas Cage Fan Forum
- Dean's Nicolas Cage Fan Page
- Nick Cage Fan Club

More awkward Nic Cage:
- Nic Cage as Everyone << bahahahaha
- Awkward Fan Art 

Cabaret

I watched this 1972 film today. The movie is set in 1931 Berlin during the rise of the Nazi Party, and centers on the erratic and intertwined lives of american singer and dancer Sally (played by Liza Minnelli) and British Brian, played by Michael Fox. Despite Scott laughing at me for watching it, and despite the rather sad ending, I liked it. I can understand why cabaret went home with eight academy awards that year, including best actress (say what you will about Liza, I LOVED her as Sally. Nyah.)

Liza as Sally

The film, first of all, is well written, and quite stylish. I found myself drooling a little over elements of the wardrobe. Maybe I was a drag queen in another life. The cinematography was great (they won another academy award for that as well), with a range of interesting shots, and a use of lighting that had a weight of meaning to it. Lighting for a feeling, not lighting for the script, if that makes sense. Yeah, you can tell I wasn't a film major. So sue me. *grins*

Love Natalia's driving outfit

Second, I felt that Cabaret did an interesting take on capturing a little heeded segment of history. Much attention is given to the time during and after the Second World War in film, but not much has been done on the climate in Germany leading up to the start of the war. There is a sense in which the movie captures the potent hangover of the "roaring twenties," and the desire to cling to a lifestyle of decadence that is quickly becoming unfeasible in the insanely inflated German economy. There is a sense throughout the movie of a gathering shadow, to which the characters turn a determinedly blind eye as they pursue their dreams of fame and wealth and romance. There is an eerie scene where Brian and his (sugardaddy?) Maximillion are sitting at an outdoor cafe, and a Hitler Youth begins singing a song called "Tomorrow belongs to me", and nearly the entire cafe crowd joins in. Here is an example of where the lighting is so exquisitely done. This scene was shot in the light of a near-perfect summer afternoon, an ironic contrast which makes the viewer even more keenly aware of the dark times the Youth's word's are foreshadowing. I THOUGHT IT WAS CLEVER.

Cabaret, despite its closing assertion that "life is a cabaret" reminds us that life is anything but. Germany--and the rest of the world--like Elsie in the final song number by Sally, is coming close to killing itself young with alcohol and pills. The absolute abandon of the twenties can no longer be sustained, and something is going to give. The final shot, which shows an audience of Nazi party members grotesquely reflected in the waved glass of the cabaret backdrop reminds us that the dissipated lifestyle warps one's ability to view reality, and makes one blind to danger. Cabaret dreams cannot last, just as the world was shaken awake from its 1920's stupor by first the depression, and then the war. 

I read it as a beautiful, but cautionary tale. I could just be pulling things out of my ass though. I usually do.

Monsieur Lazhar

I had the opportunity to go to a free showing of Monsieur Lazhar at the Westmount Public Library (This library is amazing, and puts on a ton of interesting events).

This film, no word of a lie, helped me to understand why french-canadian filmmakers are considered the top in the country. It is a french language film, set in Montreal, but was happily subtitled in English. It centers on the suicide of a young female teacher at an elementary school, the struggle of the students to cope with her demise, and the new teacher, Monsieur Lazhar, who comes on the scene to teach them in their time of grief.

Lazhar himself, a refugee from Algeria, has been through some hard times as well, and is deeply familiar with coping with grief. An unlikely teacher, who lied his way into the position, Lazhar winds up helping the students more than any well-meaning attempts at counselling or treating the suicide as taboo do.

The movie is also visually quite stunning, having a sort of crisp and unpretentious clarity that screams "this is life". From what I could tell (though my knowledge of french is so limited that I could not catch all of the inflections properly) the film was also very well acted, featuring some truly impressive child actors. Lazhar himself was well done, his grief deep and subtle, his love of the children equally so. The script was amazing, dialogue fluid, and the characters and their psychoses very believable.

On a different note, it was also a lot of fun to sit in a crowd of nature french speakers watching a french language movie and be able to laugh with them at little jokes, like Montreal being referred to as the slush city. It made me feel like I belonged here, in a way I haven't really until now.

Apparently the Westmount Public Library does this every month. I think I should make a habit of attending!

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Watched this film last night when I ought to have been in class. I won't give you a synopsis of the plot here. If you want to know what its about, check out the imdb page. I will warn you, though, should you decide to watch it, this is one of those movies that will give you a severe case of the "ugly cries", as a friend calls them. 

This isn't really a review, more my thoughts on the overarching metaphor the film produces. Those of you who have seen it will understand, those of you who have not, well, hopefully this won't ruin it for you. I view this movie as a metaphor for life in post 9-11 America. The idyllic world and its dreams have died, leaving nothing but riddles and a desire for fulfillment. Our forefathers are mute victims of their own mistakes, and our mothers must take on the roles of our fathers as the traditional family disintegrates. Paranoia abounds, and the scientific mind tries to find reason where there is none. We are all lost and searching for a way back to what we had, but what we had is gone. The path to redemption is through acceptance of loss, acceptance of change, and through understanding each other. Our shared experiences are what will help us through.

Seriously, watch it. And bring Kleenex. 

"Talk Hard" -- formally titled "Keep the Air Alive"

"Do you ever get the feeling that everything in America is completely fucked up?" -- Mark Hunter/Hard Harry

As hinted, in a post I made almost a year ago, I also have a desire to toss some verbal masturbation out into the intarwebs, about my other favorite movie from the late 80's: Pump Up the Volume.

I was slightly less impressionable when I saw this movie. I was in the Tenth Grade, as opposed to the Seventh, but the impact it made on me was no less significant. More importantly, just like Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure/Bogus Journey, Pump Up the Volume drove home another point that seemed part of my basic personality as a teen. It reminded me that sometimes, if you want to do what's right, you've got to break some rules.

As I'm writing this, I am finding myself having a hard time reaching a decision. What was more important to me: The music, or the movie itself? I'd say that they are equally important, however . . . without the music, the movie wouldn't be what it was. The music would stand on its own, without the film.

For those who have not seen the film, it's about a high school student, Mark Hunter. He's relocated to Arizona from New Jersey with his family, when his dad accepts a job as the commissioner of Hubert Humphrey High. I'm sure there's some joke to be made about a high school named after Hubert Humphrey, but I'm not versed in the 60's political climate. I'll refrain. I'd just fuck it up.

But I digress.

Mark, who had plenty of friends back home in Jersey, finds it impossible to meet people in Arizona. He becomes shy, and withdrawn. Yet, in a stroke of inspired genius that can only occur in the mind of a 17 year old boy -- he decides to use the shortwave radio set that his parents bought him to "talk to his friends back home", to launch a pirate radio station. He assumes the persona of Happy Harry Hard-On. Hubert Humphrey High. Happy Harry Hard-On. I really don't have to point out the synergy there folks, do I?

Harry goes live, every night, at 10pm. Because of the sensitive position he's in, with his father's job, he uses a modulator to change his voice. He talks about everything, and anything. At first he's just waxing philosophical on the trials of being a teenager, but then something happens.

All of his fellow classmates, begin to view Hard Harry as a latter day prophet of sorts. They look to him. They listen to him.

I just stepped away for 10 minutes or so, and walked back with the intention cutting off the synopsis, and just hitting the salient points. As I said, I believed that the music was more important. However, in the process of writing this, I've come to realize that I was wrong. The music would have never had the impact on me that it does, if it weren't for the movie.

Enough of the introspective After School Special.

Mark/Harry decides to take on the issues of corruption at the school. The expulsion potential "trouble-makers", and "undesirables" during the first week of school--while keeping their names on the roll, so the school would get more money from the state. Principal Cresswood, the mastermind behind this nefarious plot, truly believed she was doing it for the good of the school. It's one of the oldest debates on the polarity of good and evil. Both sides truly believe they're right.

It begins, when Mark/Harry lifts a memo from his father's home office, and discovers that a girl named Cheryl has been expelled, because she is pregnant. That begins the influx of trust from his classmates. Teenagers rarely believe that anyone is fighting for them. Then, out of the blue, during a time when radio was king, comes a voice that speaks to them.

Mark/Harry begins to take phone calls and letters from his listeners. One day, he receives a letter signed, "I'm Serious".

The letter reads as follows:

Dear Harry,

Do you think I should kill myself?

I'm Serious.

And here, the shitstorm begins, my faithful few readers.

The next day, in his creative writing class, Mark is informed that one of his classmates killed himself the night before.

I'll do my best to quote his following broadcast monologues:

"You see I never planned it like this. My dumb Dad got me this short wave radio set so I could just speak to my friends back east, but I couldn't reach anybody, I thought I was talking to nobody. I imagined that nobody listening. Maybe I imagined one person out there, anyway one day I woke up and I realized I was never going to be normal and so I said fuck it, I said so be it and Happy Harry Hard-On was born. I never meant to hurt anyone, honestly I never meant to hurt anyone. I'm sorry Malcolm. I never said "Don't do it" I'm sorry . . . anyway I'm done, stick a fork in me it's been grand. This is Happy Harry Hard-On saying sayonara, over and out."

At this point, there is a dramatic pause:

Off the air: "What am I doing? Fuck it!"

On the air: "You hear about some kid who did something stupid, something desperate. What possessed him. How could he do such a terrible thing. It's really quite simple actually. Consider the life of a teenager. You have parents, teachers telling you what to do. You have movies, magazines, and TV telling you what to do. But you know what you have to do. Your job, your purpose, is to get accepted, get a cute girl friend, and think up something great to do with the rest of your life. What if you're confused and can't imagine a career? What if you're funny looking and you can't get a girl friend? You see no one wants to hear it, but the terrible secret is that being young is sometimes less fun than being dead.

Suicide is wrong, but the interesting thing about it is how uncomplicated it seems. There you are, you got all these problems swarming around your brain, and here is one simple, one incredibly simple solution. I'm just surprised it doesn't happen every day around here. No now they're going to say I said offing yourself is simple, but no, no, no, no, it's not simple. It's like everything else you have to read the fine print. For instance, assuming there is a heaven who would ever wanna go there, you know. I mean think about it, sitting on this cloud, you know it's nice, it's quiet, there's no teachers, there's no parents, but guess what? There's nothing to do. Fucking boring. Another thing to remember about suicide is that it is not a pretty picture. First of all, you shit your shorts you know. So there you are dead, people are weeping over you, crying, girls you never spoke to are saying, "Why? Why? Why?" and you have a load in your shorts. That's the way I see it. Sue me. Now, they're saying I shouldn't think stuff like this. They're saying something is wrong with me, that I should be ashamed. Well, I'm sick of being ashamed. Aren't you?

I don't mind being dejected and rejected, but I'm not going to be ashamed about it.

At least pain is real. You look around and you see nothing is real, but the pain is real. You know, even this show isn't real. This isn't me; I'm using a voice disguiser. I'm a phoney fuck just like my Dad!! . . just like anybody. You see, the real me is just as worried as the rest of you. They say I'm disturbed, well of course I'm disturbed. I mean we're all disturbed, and if we're not, why not? Doesn't this blend of blindness and blandness want to make you do something crazy? Then why not do something crazy? It makes a hell of a lot of sense than blowing you fucking brains out you know. Go nuts, go crazy, get creative! You got problems? You just chuck'em, nuke'em! They think you're moody? Make'em think you're crazy, make'em think you might snap! They think you got attitude? You show'em some real attitude! Come on, go nuts, get crazy. Hey no more Mr. Nice Guy!!!"

At this point, Mark/Harry takes a call from a student who is dealing with his emerging homosexuality, and the bashing that goes along with it. I want to desperately go into it, however I'm already writing to an arrogant length.

One of the ideas that keeps being repeated, over and over, is that Mark is waiting for something. For someone. For a voice to come out of the darkness.

It's at this point, that I notice I've skipped over the entire relationship with Nora, "The Eat Me Beat Me Lady," -- hey, it was the late 80's -- but that's okay. What's important, is what Nora says to him, as he decides to shut the show down:

"No, no the world is fucked up just like you said. Don't you see that you're the voice, you're the voice we're all waiting for."

It's a theme that has been repeated over and over again through the decades, most recently with Green Day's American Idiot -- but that's another post in itself (oh, did you see what I did there? If not, read my preceding post from last April: http://pfftspace.blogspot.com/2011/04/lessons-from-great-ones.html ).

Long story short, the FCC is called in because people have started recording the shows, and broadcasting them across state lines. They bring out trucks to triangulate his location. So he does the logical thing. He shuts down.

No no, that would be boring. He wires his broadcast set up into his mother's jeep, and makes a mobile broadcast station. HA HA! TAKE THAT YOU LOUSY FCC BUMS!

The obvious chase ensues, and Mark/Harry is forced to broadcast without his voice modulator in what is what I consider one of the finest climaxes of American cinema:

"Okay this is really me now, no more hiding. Listen we're all worried, we're all in pain, that just comes with having eyes with having ears, but just remember one thing it can't get any worse, it can only get better. I mean high school is the bottom. Being a teenager sucks, but that's the point, surviving it is the whole point. Quitting is not going to make you strong, living will. So just hang on and hang in there. You know I know all about the hating and the sneering, I'm a member of the why bother generation myself. But why did I bother coming out here tonight and why did you? I mean it's time, it begins with us not with politicians, the experts of the teachers, but with us, with you and with me, the ones who need it most. I believe with everything that's in me that the whole world is begging for healing, even the trees and the earth its self are crying out for it, you can hear it everywhere. It's the same kind of healing I desperately needed and finally feel has begun with you. Everyone mix it up, it's not game over yet, it's just the beginning, but it's up to you. I'm calling for every kid to seize the air. Steal it, it belongs to you. Speak out, they can't stop you. Find your voice and use it. Keep this going. Pick a name, go on air. It's your life, take charge of it. Do it, try it, try anything. Spill your guts out and say shit and fuck a million times if you want to, but you decide. Fill the air, steal it. Keep the air alive . . . TALK HARD!!!!"

"Talk Hard," was the final snip of dialogue from a lead in the movie. The ending fade, as the credits begin to roll, were of pirate radio stations going on the air all over America.

I've already written to the point where it's just obnoxious, so I'll simply leave you with a list of my favorite tracks from the movie:

"Everybody Knows," by Concrete Blonde -- this is a cover of a Leonard Cohen song, and well.. it's amazing.

"Why Can't I Fall In Love," by Ivan Neville

"Wave of Mutilation (U.K. Surf)," by The Pixies -- this one is amazing. "Wave of Mutilation," was originally released on the album Doolittle. It was fast, distorted, and everything The Pixies were great at. The U.K. Surf version, is slow, heavy on the reverb, and extremely mellow. It is the *perfect* song for the scene it's in -- shortly after Mark learns of Malcolm "I'm Serious" Kaiser's suicide.

"Kick Out The Jams," By Bad Brains ft. Henry Rollins -- this song is a cover of a Blue Oyster Cult song, which is a cover of an MC5 song. It's pretty fucking awesome.

Those are just a few. You can listen to them all at http://listen.grooveshark.com

In closing, this is probably the most important film from my youth. It's why I waited almost a year to write about it. I had no clue how to tackle something of this personal magnitude. I'm still not sure the job I did was worth a shit.

I should add, that Christian Slater played the role of Mark, and this is his finest role ever -- however, it is Christian Slater, and that's not saying much.

Lessons from The Great Ones

So, if you were a teen in the early 90's, you knew about two totally excellent dudes, named Bill S. Preston, Esq., and Ted Theodore Logan. Everyone knew about these guys. For a couple of years, they were everywhere.

No, really Ted, you were. EVERYWHERE.

These guys did wonders for the lexicon of the early 90's. Excellent. Bodacious. Heinous. Non-Heinous. Non-Non-Non-Non-Heinous. And of course, STATION!

Great movies. Wonderful bits and pieces of my youth, wrapped up in the personality of two complete idiots, with hearts of gold.

I saw Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure when I was in Jr. High. For some unknown reason, the faculty thought this would be a good film to show to the entire student body. I still haven't figured that one out. It's like they were encouraging us all to become career slackers.

However, it did spark something in me. Something that I wouldn't begin to realize until I saw the sequel, Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey, and that I wouldn't fully realize until almost two decades later.

The first little bit to really get my attention, was this inspiring speech by one of our Nation's greatest leaders.

(Editors note: Yes, I know Stevie is Canadian. We don't fault her for that.)

That's a very simple concept. "Be excellent to each other." It seems to me that life would be a whole lot easier all around, if everyone were to listen to the words of The Great Ones, and just try to apply them to their daily lives on even a semi-regular basis.

But it was more than that, here I am, a career slacker. I'm the kinda guy who the teachers wanted to flunk out of school. All sorts of people, from guidance counselors, to teachers, to my parents, have offered all sorts of excuses as to why that was - but the truth is, me and high school just weren't a good fit. I knew this even when I was in the seventh grade. And then, all of the sudden, were these two guys - larger than life - showing me that even slackers can change the world.

See, in their Hollywood penned life, Bill and Ted were the progenitors of a greater society. Their ideals changed the world. They made the future better for everyone. And for the longest time, I tried to work on those principles. If I changed the world for one person, I was doing okay.

Then, I went off the rails.

"Well I've been drinking, but nothing's ever gained." -- "Drinking Again," by Neverland, from the Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey soundtrack.

Yeah, you guessed it. Me and booze, me and drugs, whatever. This isn't an after school special, and you've heard it all before. All I can say for sure, is that watching movies from my youth, which have always had a huge hold on me, helped me get my head out of my ass. Well, that, and a few hard kicks from some close friends of mine, whom I am not sure will ever know how grateful I am to them.

The Bill and Ted movies, (along with Pump Up The Volume - which is another blog post in itself), helped me get myself back on point. They helped me realize what I had made of myself. That I was no longer "being excellent" to anyone. I especially wasn't being excellent to myself. So, I did what I do best. I crawled back into myself, for a serious period of introspection. I made music (yes, you can thank Bill and Ted for that,) and I tried to figure out where I went wrong.

But the truth is, it didn't matter where I went wrong. The only thing that mattered, was how to get myself back on track. To live up to the example that "The Great Ones" set for me. So, what did I do? I picked myself up from the ashes that were the remnant of the fires I lit myself, and started all over again. And I found myself looking at a future that was pretty damned good:

So here I am, working for that future. I'm not there yet, but I'm "writing the song that will save the world," my world. Just like Bill and Ted did. And it will be good.

So yeah, as has been said multiple times in this post: Be excellent to each other.

And..

PARTY ON, DUDE!

Post Script: In closing, it would not be fair at all for me to make this, without offering my eternal thanks, and love, to two of my best friends, Josh and Jeremy. Without you guys, I'd not be here now. Even though we don't talk as much as I want these days, I still think about you.

You'll always be my Wyld Stallyns.

Biutiful

So, I had an amazing weekend with my parents! On saturday, mom, dad, and I went out for chinese food, and then went to watch Red Riding Hood (which isn't nearly as cool as the previews make it look, and although the setting and costumes had some redeeming qualities, I wouldn't recommend it). Then we went to Tim Hortons where I had flashbacks to my time working there, didn't win roll up the rim, but did have an awesome time laughing uproarously and being a generall asshat with my folks over coffee. Yay us!

Yesterday, Dad and I went to see Biutiful, at the Broadway Theatre (aptly catchphrased: "saskatoon's window on the world"--you'd have to know what a conservative, close-minded, ego-centric little city this is to understand).

A coming attraction: Blacula

 

(Magical lamp post, because everywhere has one)

Directed by Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu, and starring Javier Bardem (he of the beautifully heavy lidded eyes), this two and a half hour film encompasses life, death, and all the spaces in-between--from the barely alive to the barely dead. The protagonist, Uxbal, is a man who helps illegal (primarily Chinese and African) immigrants find work in his native Barcelona. He is the father of two children, whose mother is a recovering bi-polar addict with a big nose. To make matters worse, Uxbal finds out he is dying of prostate cancer.

Sounds depressing, right?

Well, it is, but it isn't. The streets of Barcelona are depicted as gritty; the lives of the immigrants, and Uxbal himself  (and apparently almost everyone else in Barcelona) verging on destitute. Yet, despite this, there is some beauty in it all. In between all those visuals of cracked pavement and flickering neon, there are some truly stunning shots, that fill the viewer with a sense of the sublime--the imperfect perfectness of existence.

The characters, too, are flawed but beautiful, and this makes them feel real. Uxbal's broken family, although it has its ugly moments, also has its heartwarming ones (like when the whole family starts digging into ice cream with their hands for fun). It is a dark movie, laced throughout with shreds of hope in the midst of hopelessnesss and tragedy.

I would highly suggest this film to anyone who wants to get down to the bare bones of what it is to be human. Do not be put off by the length--the film flies by, but still leaves you satisfied. Every aspect of it is carefully constructed, and layered together to provide an experience that will draw you in, and completely immerse you.

Simon Pegg, and "Big Nothing"

Last night I watched (and Scott slept through--I'm beginning to believe this is the scale whereby a movie's merit can be measured) a movie called "Big Nothing". I was interested, because it claimed to be a comedy featuring this guy:

Simon Pegg, who is absolutely genius in films like Shawn of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. Not so genius here. But first, about Big Nothing. It wasn't a *bad* movie. It had its funny moments, and a plot more twisted than my panties during exam season. David Schwimmer plays a loving, desperate father very well. The scenes between him and his daughter gave me the warm fuzzies. He has been fired from his teaching job do to a degenerative memory disorder, and in wanting to provide for his family, he gets involved with a call-center employee named Gus (Simon Pegg), who is planning on blackmailing a reverend for visiting illegal porn sites.  Josie, an ex girlfriend of Gus', played by Alice Eve (*drool*) gets involved in the scam, and everything goes fine--until bodies start piling up.

Although it tries to be funny, the whole movie comes off a little flat. Its not nearly as cleverly funny as most of the movies we see Simon Pegg in.  Nor is Pegg himself the same bumbling, easily frustrated, but unbelievably funny character he normally plays. In fact, he sort of just comes off as an asshole in Big Nothing. Which would be fine, maybe a nice bit of variety in his acting style, IF THIS WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE A COMEDY.

So, why is Pegg less funny than usual?

Is it the script? Maybe--although twisted, the plot is also as obvious as a baseball bat up the wazoo. The character of Gus himself? Perhaps. Though there is always plenty of room to make a conman funny. Is it just that Pegg isn't really the main character? Or maybe its because Pegg's comedic genius is completely overshadowed by Alice Eve's dazzling smile and hoop earrings.

No, what I really think is missing here (as Scott pointed out in the ten minutes he stayed awake during this movie) is the accent. Gus is from Vegas. Pegg has dropped his accent. Is it possible that without the accent, Simon Pegg just isn't funny?

I would argue, to a degree, yes. For example, the entire movie Hot Fuzz is made funny by its excessive Britishness. If you are not familiar with the pace and flavour of small-town British life, the entire first half of the movie can be incredibly dull, but if you are familiar with it, there is alot to laugh at. (I know, because I was the only one laughing like a moron in the first half of the movie when we saw it in theatre). Similarly, Pegg's character in How to Lose Friends and Alienate People is given added humour by the way his laid-back, pub-cozy British character contrasts with the more uptight world of American fame and fortune.

Take the Britain out of Simon Pegg, and what you are left with is this:

A redneck.

Push

Scott and I watched this movie last night. Or rather, I watched it while Scott slept through it. Scott's narcoleptic tendencies aside, it was actually a pretty good film.

It takes place in a (very cool) world where people with special psychic abilities
(ie: movers - telekinetics
     pushers - mind controllers
     watchers - clairvoyants
     shadows - individuals who can make people or things invisible to certain eyes
     sniffers - psychic bloodhounds )
are routinely experimented on by governments around the world. The goal of these government agencies, which call themselves "division" is to hyper-develop the abilities of these psychics, in order to create a kickass army with super-human capabilities. Unfortunately, all of their experiments have been going awry, with most of the individuals being experimented upon dying shortly after recieving the injection that is supposed to amplify their powers. The one exception to this rule is our heroine, Kira, who not only survived the experiment, but also managed to escape Division.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Its a plot that has been used time and time again.Evil organization experimenting on humans to create super-powered army. HOWEVER, don't write Push off just yet. What makes this movie a little different is the fact that this world has flavour and texture. Push's cinematography was its selling point for me--the way bright colors were used through grungy filters, capturing the environment of a run-down alternate hong-kong perfectly, making it seem gritty and real. Not only the way the world is filmed, but also the way it is written gives it depth. An informative newsreel-styled blurb at the start of the movie gives us information that traces teh experiments of Division back to the second world war and the Nazis, grounding the movie's fiction in our own reality (always a good way to add something tangible, or chewable to anything fantastic). The characters themselves seemed realistic, believably unsure of their own powers. The dynamic between Dakota Fanning's character, the thirteen year old clairvoyant whose name I forget, but who was made of pure awesome, and Nick, the male protagonist was particularly well done.

(See?)

All that being said, where the movie fell a part a bit was in some of the acting (I *really* didn't like Kira), some of the character dynamics (I *really* wasn't feeling the sparks between Nick and Kira), and, towards the end, the writing. The plot became as cliche as it could have been from the outset. Not only that, but things stopped making sense to a degree, and not in the good well-thought-out-confusing way either. No, plot holes developed that you could have driven my Lumina through.

So, with the good and the bad, what could have been an epic, lush, uber-cool movie was downgraded to simple good fun. Another downgrade and we would have had a movie of Dark Angel-esque disappointment (very similar plot. Great idea, excellent tasty setting, near-complete failure on delivery).

Speaking of, apparently this movie might be made into a TV series. Hopefully, HOPEFULLY, if this is true, the world it contains can be given a better treatment than Dark Angel's had.

While I'm at it, can I hope Jessica Alba shows up in a state of undress too?