An Incident On The 3rd Baseline, Dodger Stadium

Ha, I got the last laugh - the Dodgers missed the playoffs last season. Originally posted on 8/9/06:

If you've seen my MySpace profile, you can probably guess what my favorite sport is. Someday I'll write a long article about why I love the game so much, but today is not that day. I just wanted to relay a little humorous altercation I had at Dodger Stadium last night that should explain why I'll never root for the team that plays there.

Even though I was raised in Los Angeles, I have always despised the Dodgers. Growing up in the 1970s, my favorite team was the Cincinnati Reds, and the Dodgers were their #1 rival. I was never well liked at Dodger games and considering how venomous my hatred was of their team, I couldn't blame their fans for throwing stuff at me. As time has gone by, the much-hated Tommy Lasorda left as manager, and it's been 18 years since their last World Series, so I've softened in my vitriolic behavior at their games. The other reason I hated the Dodgers is that I cant stand anything about their obnoxious stadium, from the fans to their overrated concessions to the no fun of any kind attitudes of their ushers and security people. Also, the Dodgers basically stole the Chavez Ravine area from its longtime Mexican residents in the 1950s via some evil political machinations, and I always feel bad when I drive around the stadium knowing this was the place where a thriving latino community once stood before the city of Los Angeles bulldozed it in the name of progress (check out the song, "3rd Base, Dodger Stadium" by Ry Cooder a cut from his recent masterpiece album Chavez Ravine for a poignant reminder of what once stood on the grounds of the stadium). Growing up, I could never understand Dodgers fans; they show up in the 3rd inning, leave after the 7th to beat the traffic, spend half the game doing the f-ing wave and playing with beach balls, and on average, show an almost unbelievable lack of knowledge of the game. I also hate the way they react excitedly to any ball that's hit in the air as if its got a chance to be a home run, from a weak popup to short to a foul ball down the 1st base line. There, I guess I made my point, eh?

As much as I hate the Dodgers, I go to a lot of games. My friend has killer season tickets, and i'ts always fun to root against the Dodgers and watch visiting teams and players that I admire. Anyway, last night, we went to the Rockies game, and it was an exciting one. The only thing that marred it was an annoyingly uptight foursome of Dodger fans who showed up during the 4th inning (what the fuck?!? why bother?) and sat right in front of us. The parents were in their late 40s/early 50s and the kids were late teens early 20s; I could tell the mother was a real flatliner, uptight librarian type who looked like she would much rather be at home watching the coverage of the Connecticut primary than being surrounded by obnoxious baseball fans. Now, I know I tend to be a little loud, as I have a mild hearing problem and don't always realize when I'm projecting my voice beyond a normal decibel level. This is especially true when I'm at a very loud PUBLIC SPORTING EVENT!!! Additionally, my two friends at the game are just plain loud talkers who have a tendency to uptalk (putting so much emphasis on the last syllable of a sentence that everything sounds like a question, similar to the way Australians do). Anyway, during the 8th inning, in the middle of a very exciting one-run game where a rally was being mounted by the Rockies, I was extremely perturbed that some idiot decided to break open their beach ball stash; numerous beach balls were flinging by my head and I almost got slammed in the face by someone who thought they were playing in an AVP event in Manhattan Beach. So, my buddies and I vowed to destroy the first ball that came our way, and when one did, Chris stepped on it so hard that it sounded like a gunshot when it popped. We laughed our asses off at all the pissed fans who had come to play beach ball and not focus on the game, and they started calling Chris "the ballkiller". He even took a curtain call, and it was pure theater for a moment.

So, while this is all going down, the uptight librarian witch in front of me turns around with a sour look on her face and says, You're very loud. Would you please be quiet? Incredulously, I asked her to repeat herself, because as I said, I'm a wee bit deaf. She repeated her admonition, and I honestly was so taken aback that I advised her that I was hard of hearing and that's why I project so much. She then made the mistake of saying, Well, I'm not and I'd appreciate it if youd be quiet. I couldn't hold back, so I said, "During the 8th inning of a fucking one-run baseball game?!?" (profanity added by me to emphasize how ridiculous the situation was). She continued to bitch about me to her family, so we decided to make the sensitive of hearing, Dodger-loving assholes miserable for the rest of the game. I spent the next half hour speaking at about 2x times my previous volume, booing and cheering like it was Game 7 of the World Series. My buddies were even more incessant in their auditory onslaught, clapping excessively, whistling, and screaming at the top of their lungs. When the game ended, they couldnt have run faster to escape the torture we were subjecting them to; I suppose the woman went home to her quiet room, took an Excedrin and popped in her earplugs. I hope the Chicago Cubs fan that ruined her evening by enjoying himself at a ballgame haunts her dreams for years to come.

Oh, and the fucking Dodgers won their 11th game in a row! There is no joy in Mudville and definitely no justice at Chavez Ravine!

Forever Changes

I'm stil sad that Arthur Lee, the subject of this post, is gone. Love was an incredible band. Originally posted on 8/7/06:

I was listening to generally sucky rock station KLOS at lunch today, and I was surprised to hear one of my favorite songs, "Alone Again Or" by the band Love, being played. Sadly, it turns out it was being played as a tribute to Love founder Arthur Lee, who died last week after a long battle with leukemia. The fact that this death will go mostly unnoticed by the media and public saddens me beyond belief. Love may not be well known, but without them, the great music of the late 60s would sound very different. They influenced Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd, The Doors (see the attached article to find out how much) and numerous lesser acts; they were one of the key architects of the LA psychedelic sound, but they were a lot more than that, too.

Their song "Alone Again Or" is featured on my page's music playlist, and I'm sure most of you have heard it before (or one of the many covers by artists like The Damned, Calexico or Matthew Sweet), but listen to the lyrics and music a little more carefully this time, and if you really dig it, buy the album that it's featured on, "Forever Changes"; to quote a great movie, "it'll change your life". In today's LA Times, John Densmore, drummer of the The Doors, paid tribute to Arthur Lee; here's the article**:
It was 1965 when I rushed down to the Whisky a Go-Go to stand out front and listen to a group called Love. My band, the Doors, was playing in a dumpy club up the street, and we were on a break. I craned my neck past Mario, the doorman, to get a glimpse of a band that was so far ahead of its time, the public still hasn't caught up.The first time I saw Love, I was shocked. They were bizarre. Arthur Lee, the African American lead singer, wore rose-tinted granny glasses, and they had a guitar player whose pants were so tight, it looked like he had a sock stuffed inside his crotch. It was a racially mixed group who seemed to be friends. After experiencing Love, I knew I had a ways to go before being hip. Wearing leather capes and pin-striped pants, suede moccasins, paisley shirts and jackets with fringe everywhere, I wondered if they went out on the street like that. Not that they were fashion without substance; as Lee told us all: "And the things that I must do consist of more than style."

This was a revolutionary band, way before Jimi Hendrix. No black man had crossed over from "soul music" into rock before Arthur. I desperately wanted to be in this band. Arthur clearly had tons of talent and charisma, a quality that our singer, Jim Morrison, hadn't developed yet.When we finally became the house band at the Whisky, Arthur graciously suggested to Jac Holzman, the president of Love's record company, that Jac check out the Doors. Due to Arthur's jump-starting, we got a record deal.Jim and I would drive down from Laurel Canyon to the Chinese restaurant next to Greenblatt's Deli to get egg fried rice for breakfast. On one of those excursions "My Little Red Book" came on the radio, Love's cover of the Burt Bacharach-Hal David song. "If we could make a record as good as that," Jim said, "I'd be happy."Love went on to make several albums for Elektra Records, one of which, "Forever Changes," is a masterpiece (and, it should be noted, was produced and engineered by the vital Bruce Botnick). This album defined the '60s and is the "Sgt. Pepper's" of the West Coast, the "Pet Sounds" of psychedelia. One title from that album, "Maybe the People Would Be the Times, or Between Clark and Hilldale," reflects the street life on the Strip, the Whisky being located on Sunset Boulevard "between Clark and Hilldale."*And oh, the music is so loudAnd then, I fade into the crowdsOf people standing everywhereAnd here, they always play mysongsWrong or right, they come herejust the sameTellin' everyone about theirgame*Forgive me now, for copying a slew of lyrics from this brilliant record, but better to quote a genius than wax on with helium upstairs.*On racism:
Around my townHere, everyone's painted brown
And if with you that's notthe wayLet's go paint everybody gray*Reincarnation:I've been here once, I've beenhere twiceI don't know, if the third's thefourth, or the fifth's to fix*War:There's a man who can't decideIf he should fight for what hisfather thinks is right
*Prophecy (Arthur spent some time in jail years after this was written):They're locking them up today,
They're throwing away the key,I wonder who it will be
tomorrow, you or me*Philosophy:This is the time in life that I amlivingAnd I'll face each day witha smile
For the time that I have beengiven, such a little whileAnd for everyone who thinksthat life is just a gameDo you like the part you'replayin' *Death:Sitting on a hillside, watching
all the people dieI'll feel much better on the other side *

Arthur, I hope you're sitting on that hill in fact, the Doors' lead singer is waiting to show you where that hill is and I'm sure you'll feel better.Unfortunately, Arthur smoked so much herb that he was reluctant to leave his house. "Forever Changes" became a critical and chart-topping monster in England, but Lee wouldn't cross the pond. For those of you who are new to the importance of this band called Love, please check it out.When I heard the news that Arthur died Thursday, I lit some white sage given to me by Native American musician friends, in honor, and to help Arthur Lee with his crossing. He was an extremely talented, tortured artist, not unlike Jim, and the two of them are sitting on that hill."Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive."Howard Thurman, African American mystic and activist

** Last note from Tully: I love the reference to the song Between Clark and Hilldale, as I worked for an "adult products emporium" a couple doors down from The Whiskey on Sunset Blvd. Sadly, it was a few years after the heyday of that great club, but hanging out on that block was always a blast.

Really Challenging Movie Quiz

Nobody responded/took this quiz after I posted it. That still annoys me. There's still time to change that. C'mon, you know you want to! Originally posted 8/4/06:

Okay, I took it...now it's your turn movie lovers. The questions are courtesy of mattzollerseitz.blogspot.com, a terrific movie/Deadwood blog.

1) Does film best tell the truth (Godard) or tell lies (De Palma) at 24 frames per second? (Thanks, Peet)Jeez, philosophy so early? Okay, lets get down! Film may seem best suited for mindless fantasies, but even some of the most mundane films touch on emotions and ideas that are based in truth. Take any lousy studio film and there will be hopefully at least one or two moments that transcend the genre or lousy filmmaking. One example off the top of my head: The Devil Wears Prada. This was, to quote one of its main characters, a sad little person of a film. The actors were game, there were some fine moments, but the director was afraid to go near anything resembling the reality of the situation and was content to craft another in a long line of Rakes Progress stories, in which our hero/heroine puts their ideals aside and sells their soul (evident because her friends, family and lover all tell the protagonist that shes selling her soul). However one moment stands apart and that was the scene where Streep takes Hathaway to task for dismissing fashion as unimportant. Miranda explains harshly and directly how the petty little discussions about what look will be in this fall have a trickle down effect and that every aspect of the Casual Corner outfit that she threw together for work that day had been the result of a three year cycle that began in an office just like theirs. I was engrossed by the dialogue, the acting, and the idea that people and industries we completely take for granted all have a major effect on our lives. The rest of the movie doesnt touch this scene. As for the films that are at the other end of the spectrum, the art films or message movies, I have encountered more worldly truths in their unspooling than in any other art medium, and since I love music, photography and art in general, this is not something I say lightly. Just watch Ikiru thats all Ive got to say bout that.

2) Ideal pairing of actors/actresses to play on-screen siblings
Hmmm, since it doesnt say living or dead, I get to play what if? How about a dark comedy about two eccentric brothers who live in an old restored Ohio farmhouse/B&B starring John Belushi and Jack Black. Think Arsenic & Old Lace meets The Ladykillers.

3) Favorite special effects moment
Hands down, the moment the bone turns into a space station in 2001: A Space Odyssey. There may be better effects, better CGI and more dynamic transitions, but nobody touches the shocking break into the silent totality of space.

4) Matt Damon or George Clooney?
Matt Damon has been responsible for two huge laughs for me recently, in films he had nothing to do with whatsoever. The beyond retarded Matt Damon doll in Team America that only says, Matt Damon and a throwaway line in The 40-Year-Old Virgin where The Bourne Supremacy is running on a TV and Paul Rudd says, You know, I always thought Matt Damon was kind of a Streisand, but he kicks ass in this one. Theres something about Rudds line delivery that just cracks me up every time I see it. That being said, I can think of some tremendous work that Damon has done: the emaciated drug-addict soldier in Courage Under Fire, the pseudo anti-semite in School Ties, and especially Tom Ripley in The Talented Mr. Ripley. I also love his cameos in the Askew Universe films and smaller role in the Oceans 11/12 flicks.. Im not particulary fond of Good Will Hunting, though. Hes also responsible for the single most unrealistic moment in a film ever: when newly single Mike McDermott turns down Famke Jannsens advances in Rounders. Sure, Im buying that one. But, my choice is easily George Clooney. Hes the only major actor working today who I believe has a chance to be remembered in the same breath as Gable, Grant, and Stewart. Hes not there yet, and Im not saying he will be. But, I knew there was something special about him when I saw an old Roseanne episode where he played her boss. He just had it, and his subsequent work on E.R. built on that. While affected for television, there was something about his manner that allowed him to play the charming rogue in a way I cant recall ever seeing on TV before or since. I even loved him in From Dusk Til Dawn. Once his work for hire phase ended with The Peacemaker, he hasnt looked back. People seem to forget how charming he was in Three Kings, O Brother Where Art Thou and in the vastly underrated Intolerable Cruelty, and I see him in a phase where he moves comfortably between mainstream or dark comedy, drama and more challenging fare like Solaris (not as good as Tarkovskys but a nice try by Soderbergh, anyway). Besides Nicholson and Warren Beatty, I cant think of another actor whos done that as effectively as Clooney in the last three decades.

5) What is the movie youve encouraged more people to see than any other?
Ikiru without a doubt. Its the most amazing film Ive ever seen, and I seem to hit a brick wall when I tell them its a 2+ hour drama about a dying Japanese bureaucrat in the 1950s. Then, they see the final 15 minutes and fall to pieces. See it!!!

6) Favorite film of 1934
It Happened One Night. Besides Gone With The Wind, this is my favorite Gable perfomance. As an early screwball comedy (kind of ur-screwball), it bridged the gap between the broader comedies of the 20s and early 30s with the urbane wit of the later 30s/40s ones. I loved Claudette Colbert, who is an odd mix of sexy/bitchy/sophistication/vulnerabilty that to be honest, I never saw in anything else she ever did.

7) Your favorite movie theater*
The New Beverly Cinema, on Beverly and LaBrea in Los Angeles. Theyre the only pure revival house left in LA, and they have a new double feature ever 3 days or so. They take suggestions from their patrons, so check it out. Ive seen some great stuff and some odd stuff here. I saw the restored Abel Gance Napoleon print here earlier this year, and seeing The Godfather and Millers Crossing back to back on the big screen was a revelation. I unequivocally deny that I ever had sexual relations with anyone in the back row of this theater, though; its just a rumor and theres no proof. Ha!

8) Jean Arthur or Irene Dunne?
Do I get a third option? Its not that I dont like their work, but Ive never completely gotten either of these actresses. For my money, Id take Constance Bennett over either of them. Since I have to choose, Ill take Dunne, strictly for her work in The Awful Truth. Carole Lombard kicks all their asses, though.

9) Favorite film made for children
Hmmma straight childrens flick or one of those subversive films that was supposedly made for children but carred a secret agenda within? How about one of each: Babe, which has an bit of an agenda but is basically what its supposed to be a film to make you happy about the very unlikely underpig and his mission to be the best sheep pig in wherever it is that its supposed to be set. And I love those singing mice! Subversive: Mary Poppins. I cant explain why, except to say that seeing it on acid made me realize how twisted this little movie is.

10) Favorite Martin Scorsese Movie
Yikesthis is like asking someone their favorite sexual position. Is there a bad one? Well, yeah, my least favorite is Bringing Out The Dead and dont even try to argue with me about it. But, favorite they all have some special meaning to me. I can take the safe route and say Raging Bull or Goodfellas, or I could be a contrarian and choose The King of Comedy, which is just awesome (Jerry Lewis rules in this movie). But, Ill go even more out there and say that for several reasons, Id probably have to say Alice Doesnt Live Here Anymore. I know its not a masterpiece, but this is one of the first adult films I ever saw by myself, in 1976 at the Plaza Theater in Newhall, CA. It was the B portion of the bill, and for some reason, the guy who programmed the theater kept attaching it to all kinds of A movies. And I kept coming back to see Alice week after week (I got in free!). I fell in love with Jodie Foster and her opening line, Hey kid, wanna get high on ripple?, it was the first movie where I learned to hate the oily abusive asshole that only Harvey Keitel can play, and I also fell deeply in love with Ellen Burstyn and the spirit of Kris Kristofferson. Is it Scorseses best? Not by a long shot but its still my favorite!

11) Favorite film about children
Oooh, good one. Well, there was an awful flick called The Children that was on Showtime in the early 80s about zombie children killing people, but I digress. For my money, Ill take The Bad Seed. I realize its kind of stagy and hammy, but theres just something deliciously subversive in what a sociopathic monster little Rhoda is. And I love Patty McCormack, the girl who will get her way and whats owed her regardless of how many people she has to kill to get it. You want creepy watch as she explains calmly to her mother how she beat her classmate to death with her shoes and that the crescent shaped injuries on her hands were caused by her beating his hands with them as he tried to climb back onto the pier from the lake. And her final discussion with her father about her neighbors lovebirds that shes been promised if anything happens to her. Do lovebirds live a long time daddy? I suppose they, do? As long as people? No, not as long as people. The play ends here the studio tacked on a Gods retribution ending in the film where she gets struck by lightning. Apparently, 50s audiences couldnt be trusted to handle an ending where the sociopath wins.

12) Favorite film of 1954
Without a doubt, The Seven Samurai. Like all of Kurosawas films, theres a lot more going on than just swordfighting and bandit killing. It took me a long time to get around to seeing this (late 90s), and boy was I pissed when I saw it. Needless to say, its in semi-permanent rotation in my DVD collection. Does it get any cooler than the quiet swordmaster coming back from his night of bandit assassination, with the look of a guy who just rotated some tires.

13) Favorite screenplay written by a writer more famous for literature than screenplays
Yikes, this is a toughie. How about The Misfits by Arthur Miller. It has Marilyns best (and final completed) performance, Gables last one (and a damned good one, too), a tragic one by Monty Clift (who was wasting away from alcoholism, and an underrated one by Eli Wallach. It gets lost in its Hollywood mystique, but I think its a damned good movie.

14) Walter Matthau or Jack Lemmon?
Jack Lemmon did some great stuff in his career, but I am very partial to Walter Matthau. The Bad News Bears Morris Buttermaker is a genius creation, and I just dont see one of Jacks characters matching him. I also love them together, and theres a funny scene at the end of Buddy Buddy where the hit man played by Matthau is going to kill a mobster who is in a police cordon. I cant remember why exactly, but Lemmon ends up taking the shot with the rifle (theyre in a high-rise hotel room); he cant shoot straight and tells Matthua, Oh no, I think I shot a cop. Matthau leaps at him and screams, You fucker!, not realizing that Lemmon had actually shot the mobster, who was disguised as a police officer. Matthaus reaction is just classic.

15) Favorite character name
Jake Gittes from Chinatown. Theres something about the name that lends itself to condecension, by the cop Escobar, the PI Mulvehill and mostly, by Noah Cross, who cant even be bothered to pronounce it correctly (Mr. Gitts, he calls him). At this point, they should just refer to PIs as Gittes instead.

16) Favorite screenplay adapted from a work of great literature, either by the author himself or by someone else
Wonder Boys. How is this movie not more beloved? It has everything a great film should have and even a non-annoying Katie Holmes. Talk about a hatchet marketing job by the studio. This should be re-released every year until people finally get it.

17) Favorite film of 1974Forget it, Jakeits Chinatown, in a rout. If you want, Ill write all day long about this, what may be my favorite movie of all time (Im still not sure if I could choose The Godfather over it if forced). According to Robert Towne, the screenwriter, Chinatown symbolizes fate in the film, and much like the great classical tragedies, you can see this movie a million times and always pray it ends differently. You know where this runaway train is careening towards, but you cant help but watch it and hope the disaster is averted, just one time. Noah Cross. the chief villian, isnt fire and brimstone evil, hes far more satanic in his brilliant manipulations. And hes played by friendly, nice old John Huston. Let me tell you, if there is a hell and Satan is hanging out there waiting for souls to arrive, he looks and speaks just like Noah Cross. I said in a recent comment on this film that it symbolizes the idea that just when you think youve got it all figured out, you really dont know jack. And in this film, Jack/Jake doesnt know jack. However, there are people who have issues with this film. Check out the message boards on IMDB for Chinatown and read the I Dont Get It posts if you need a good chuckle.

18) Joan Severance or Shannon Tweed?
Shannon Tweed did some beautiful B&W nudes with old pinup photographer George Hurrell, and they were lovely. She was gorgeous back in the day, but unfortunately, both she and Joan have the synthetic look of someone whos made just a few trip too many to the local plastic surgeon. If forced, Ill take Joan she did exceptional work as Mel Profitt's sister on the TV Show Wiseguy (Mel was played by Kevin Spacey back when he did crazy for fun and wasnt addicted to winning Oscars).

19) jackass: the movie-- yes or no?
Fuck yeah. Ive only had a few stop breathing, fall on the floor, laugh until your sternums ready to explode moments in my life, and the first time I saw this movie (as well as some select episodes of the show) was one of those times. Why is it funny? I dont know, maybe its the prank calls and stupid things I did in my youth that makes me identify with this insane band of morons. The opening segment, where Johnny Knoxville rents a car and then converts it into a race car, runs it in the destruction derby and then tries to return it to the agency, is pure brilliance. Also, Johnny dressed up in very old man makeup and shoplifting in a convenience store is beyond funny. Partyman dancing in the Japanese department store, Stevo snorting wasabi up his nose, and the last scene where one of the guys sticks a toy car up his ass and then goes to the doctor to complain about the pain hes been having since he passed out at that party (when the MD reviews the X-Ray and finds the car, he speaks to someone in a foreign language on the phone, talking about the gay guy who put a car in his ass). Even my Dad loved this movie, and hes got nowhere near the bad taste that I do.

20) Favorite John Cassavetes Movie
I have to be honest. The only Cassavetes film I can recall seeing is the original Gloria, with Gena Rowlands. While I loved this movie, I have a huge gap in my Cassavetes knowledge. So, I really cant offer up any meaningful insight here. My fave Cassevetes acting performance is of course, Guy Woodhouse in Rosemarys Baby. When I think of the villain of this piece, I dont think of Satan, or Roman & Minnie or the rest of the *yuck* naked middle-aged Satanists, I think of Guy. At least the Satanists had a warped, twisted evil belief system Guy did what he did out of greed and the desire for power and success. His giddiness at his thriving acting career is disgusting when you consider that he knows that one person has gone blind for his action, another died and he has essentially sold off his wifes womb to the Devil in exchange for that career. I just love when he tries to rationalize his actions to Rosemary at the end, and she spits in his face.

21) First R-rated movie you ever saw
I honestly dont remember if this correct, but I know one of the first was One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest. My family let me see anything R-rated from a very early age, so I may have seen something else at the Mustang Drive-In prior to Cuckoos Nest. I dont that we went and saw that movie three times that week.

22) Favorite X-rated film (remember that, while your answer may well be a famous or not-so-famous hard-core film, the "X" rating was once also a legitimate rating that did not necessarily connote pornography)
Well, Id say Midnight Cowboy, but it was appealed down to an R rating upon re-release, and besides, thats no fun. I've never seen hardcore porn before, so I consulted my buddy Viz Romanoff. He gave me a list of movies that he recommends, but he says if he has to choose just one, itll probably be The Devil In Miss Jones. Supposedly, its a well made story about a virgin woman who commits suicide and is sentenced to eternal damnation. Before she goes on the her final torment, she is given the opportunity to experience all the pleasures of the flesh. She agrees and the rest of the film is an exploration of numerous sexual fantasies and acts that turn her into a complete nympho. Finally, once shes seen and done it all, the Devil tells her that she must now go into hell. She ends up in a room occupied by a man who she wants to have sex with her, but hes so crazy that he wont touch her. She now realizes the true suffering is the knowledge and extreme desire for something she will never have again. Hmm, sounds cool, Ill have to check it out one of these days.

23) Best film of 1994
Its a tough choice between Pulp Fiction & Heavenly Creatures, but PF wins by a narrow margin. PF may be derivative and an homage to certain old films, but its particular melange is one Ive never encountered before or since. Is there a better soundtrack to take you right into the movie, with songs like the Urge Overkill version of Girl, Youll Be A Woman Soon and Chuck Berrys You Never Can Tell? My favorite thing about PF is what Vincent Vega refers to as the little differences. Weve all seen the film noir about the palooka forced to take a dive and instead fights the mobsters threatening his life; did any of these movies end up with the boxer tied to a chair by refugees from Deliverance, forced to escaped and kill the buggerers with a samurai sword? How many movies kill the only thing resembling a lead protagonist halfway through and then have him come back at the end and still have you care what happens to him? From the throwaway lines, like correctamundo, the Big Kahuna burger discussion, Jimmy talking about the coffee he makes and his preference for oak bedroom furniture, and seasoned hitman Jules telling his boss that you have no idea how explosive this Bonnie situation is, to the deeper spiritual themes running through the film (ask yourself why Vincent really dies? the answers in the final scene if you listen hard enough), PF grabs you and never lets go. Its one of the few films of the 90s, along with Goodfellas, Unforgiven and Heavenly Creatures that I watch 2-3 times every year, without fail.

24) Describe a moment in a movie that made you weep
In Ikiru, the final scene of Watanabe on the swing set, with the smile on his face of a man who is already in heaven. If you dont tear up at that moment, check your pulse. If Im doing a scene that requires crying, thats the one Ill think of. Theres one other scene and its the one Im going to mention in Q.26. The scene is one of the most famous from Unforgiven, and I guess it makes me cry because its one of the first times I ever really felt what killing a person would be like and what the emotional repurcussions would be. It honestly was one of the moments in life that helped turn me from a death penalty supporter to an opponent.

25) Ewan McGregor or Ewan Bremner?
I really do love Ewan Bremner (hes Spud from Trainspotting, for God sake it doesnt get much better than his interview at the travel agency flipping on speed, does it?) and would love him to do more work that we can see over here. He was great in his small but crucial role in Match Point. But theres no way Ewan doesnt get my vote hes so damned underrated, and I hate that more people know him because of Star Wars and Moulin Rouge instead of Trainspotting and Shallow Grave. Mark Renton is such a fascinating character, and I still cant see him as anything else. Renton is the hero of the film, but if you think about it, hes responsible for so many of the bad things that happen in the film. Think about it: if he hadnt swapped out the homemade porn from Tommys collection, his girlfriend wouldnt have dumped him, he wouldnt have tried heroin and he wouldnt have died of AIDS. But regardless, McGregor makes Renton such a lovable rogue that you just cant root against him. Another flick I love McGregor in is one that was summarily dismissed by critics and audiences alike, Down With Love. I just dont understand why nobody gets this movie its a great homage to the Doris Day/Rock Hudson films of the 60s, it has wickedly sharp dialogue, exceptional set direction and David Hyde-Pierces best performance of his career. I think people saw McGregors Catcher Block as a quasi-Austin Powers but I didnt see that at all. I find him to be a quintessential extract of the Playboy Man/Metrosexual types of that era, played so well by Cary Grant and Rock Hudson in all those fluffy movies. McGregor is a daring actor (see: the Pillow Book for a perfect example), and I hope he finally achieves the recognition as such.

26) One of your favorite line readings (not necessarily one of your favorite lines) from this or any year
Im going to quote a scene from Unforgiven, and I really believe its one of the only perfect scenes ever put on film. In case you havent seen it, Wil Munny is played by Clint Eastwood and The Schoefield Kid is played by Jaimz Woolvetz.

Munny takes a big pull on the bottle, returns it to The Kid, and walks back to the edge of the rise to resume his vigil. The rider is a little closer now and the sun is a little lower. It is very beautiful.

THE KID (drinking heavy) I shot that fucker three times. He was takin' a shit. He went for his pistol an' I blazed away... first shot got him in the chest...

The Kid wipes whiskey from his chin. He has been working hard to make the hysteria he feels into a high... but it won't quite come.

THE KID Say, Bill...

MUNNY Yeah. Munny is watching the rider and the rider is closer.

THE KID That was... the first one.

MUNNY First one what?

THE KID First one I ever killed.

MUNNY (preoccupied with his vigil) Yeah?

THE KID How I said I shot five men... it wasn't true. (long pause) That Mexican... the one that come at me with a knife... I busted his leg with a shovel... I didn't shoot him or nothin'.

Munny is watching the rider and the rider is much closer but coming at a walk and Munny goes back over to The Kid for a pull on the bottle and he's trying to make The Kid feel okay when he says...

MUNNY Well, that fella today, you shot him alright.

THE KID (forced bravado) H-hell yeah. I killed the hell out of him... three shots... he was takin' a sh-sh-shit an'... an'...

The Kid is shaking, becoming hysterical, he can't go on, and Munny hands the bottle back.

MUNNY Take a drink, Kid.

THE KID (breaking down, crying) Oh Ch-ch-christ... it don't... it don't seem... real... How he's... DEAD... how he ain't gonna breathe no more... n-n-never. Or the other one neither... On account of... of just... pullin' a trigger.

Munny walks back to the edge of the rise and watches the rider and it is a lovely sunset happening and he is talking to no one in particular.

MUNNY It's a hell of a thing, ain't it, killin' a man. You take everythin' he's got... an' everythin' he's ever gonna have...

THE KID (trying to pull him-self together) Well, I gu-guess they had it... comin'.

MUNNY We all got it comin', Kid.

27) What, if any, element in a film, upon your hearing of its inclusion beforehand, would most likely prejudice you against seeing that film or keeping an open mind about it?
If it was designed to portray Scientology in a positive light. Im sorry to offend any Scientology supporters, but I have personal reasons for despising that organization I didnt base my opinion on media coverage.

28) Favorite Terry Gilliam Movie
Twelve Monkeys. Wow, this movie gets better every time I see it. I love the links to Vertigo, the way that fate, in its Shakespearean cruelty, plays such a role in the end of the film, and the brilliant performances by Bruce Willis, Madeline Stowe and Brad Pitt. I tell people that this movie is sad, from beginning to end, and youd better not expect to walk out of the theater ready to skip down the road. But, I do think it reinforces how important it is to remember that every day could be our last, that love should never be taken for granted, and that sometimes, like in Chinatown, being good, righteous and determined only gets you so far. I love everything about this film: the score, the lighting, the cinematography. It continues to rise on my list of all-time favorites every time I watch it.

29) Jean Smart or Annie Potts?
God, theyve both done interesting work. My favorite Potts film is Ken Russells Crimes of Passion. She plays a frigid wife who drives her husband to visit prostitutes, and her meltdown as she realizes that a horrible sex life, totally unimportant and meaningless to her, has completely destroyed her marriage. Theres a scene where she tries to seduce her husband late in the film, and she tries to bring up their high school sexual exploits and then she just stops, as she realizes that she just doesnt have it in her. The devastation that she exudes is brilliantly portrayed. I love Jean Smart as the slutty white trash mother of Peter Skaarsgaard in Garden State. The way she flaunts her sex life with her sons high school friend (the knight) was just disgusting; Ive known older pothead losers like her before, and the performance was way too close to home. Anyway, I score it a tie.

30) Is it possible to know with any certainty if you could like or love someone based partially on their taste in movies? If so, what film might be a potential relationship deal-breaker for you, or the one that might just seal that deal?
I definitely think that a good start to a relationship would be to have similar tastes to someone in films, but obviously, Ive known plenty of women whove owned more Criterion DVDs than I do who I would never consider dating. For me, if a woman can analyze films (or music or any other cultural area), her taste is not as important as what drives it. However, if someone loved The Godfather, The Graduate, Ikiru and Chinatown as much as I do, then it would be difficult to turn her down. The deal breaker would be if someone told me her favorite film was The Rock and favorite comedy was The Wedding Planner. Oh wait, that already happened to me once. Her love of Escalades and hip hop culture and hatred of sushi were contributing factors, but I just remember thinking the entire time after she told me of her movie tastes, I could never love a woman who thinks those are the pinnacle of 100+ years of film history.

A Transcendent Moment

This is one of my favorite posts from my MySpace blog, and I hope I can draw on the emotions I felt that day in my future writing. Footnote: Tiger Woods just became a parent for the first time this week. May the Circle Be Unbroken!

Originally Posted on 8/4/06

On the surface, this is a story about golf and a courageous victory against great odds. It's a story about love, friendship, loss and the ways that grief can surface to make you realize that humanity isn't defined by how much you've made or how many victories one has. I could have categorized this under sports, but I think it's a little more important than that. I've been meaning to post this for a couple of weeks, but things kept keeping in the way (things = poker/movies/an obsession with owls).

A little background on this post: I used to be a regular golfer, but I decided to back off when I broke my 2-iron against my golf bag after another failed tee shot. However, I still love the sport and watch all the major tournaments. Anybody who hasn't been trapped on a remote Pacific atoll for the past ten years knows that Tiger Woods is the greatest golfer who has ever lived and that one of his greatest assets in life is an almost robotic approach to the game and everything else as well. Tiger was raised by a very strict father, who forced him to take the game seriously from an early age, but it was always obvious that Earl Woods wasn't the usual "sports parent" trying to live vicariously through his child. There was an enormous amount of love and respect between them, and whenever Tiger won a major event, he practically ran to hug Earl before anyone else. Until the last year or so, that is. Earl, a cancer survivor, began another struggle after exiting remission, and it became evident that he was going to lose this final bout. He couldn't make it to the tournaments anymore, and when Tiger won the Master's last year, he almost broke down during his victor's speech when he mentioned his Dad waiting back at the hotel, too ill to come to the course. He came close to winning the Master's again this year, but he admitted he had put undue pressure on himself, because he knew this was going to be his Dad's last chance to see him win. A few weeks later, Earl died. There were the usual postmortems in the sports press, discussing Earl's role in Tiger's development and early career, how this would affect Tiger's game, but not nearly enough articles discussing their relationship as father and son, and most importantly, best friends. A few weeks after Earl's passing, Tiger came back to play the US Open, way too quickly, and missed the cut at a major for the first time in his career. Again, the articles and interviews by the "golf brain trust" speculated that it might be years before Tiger regained his form and ability and whether his father's death meant a decline in his career. Of course, Tiger proved them wrong at the British Open two weeks ago.

From the start, it was evident that Tiger was going to win. He had an intensity I've never seen, and the listless man trying to figure out what to do and failing miserably had disappeared, replaced by a confident ballstriker who knew exactly what to do. There was another tragic subplot, as the golfer pushing Tiger for the title, Chris DiMarco, had just lost his mother a few weeks before the tournament. So, two virtual orphans strode quickly across the course, each driven by a need to honor a fallen parent who had shaped them into great golfers and even greater men. I awoke on Sunday at 5AM to watch the tournament, something I NEVER do (hell, that's usually my bedtime), for some reason sensing that I should watch every moment of the final round. Every time DiMarco tried to wrest control of the lead, Tiger took the momentum right back. As the last two holes began, anybody who had ever watched Tiger Woods knew the tournament was over and his name would be etched on the championship cup. Finally, Tiger had a birdie putt left with a 2 stroke lead on the 18th hole, and even though he missed it (and a chance to tie his British Open low score record of 19 under par), the short tap in gave him the victory by a stroke. Tiger pumped his fist, looked for his longtime caddy and friend Steve Williams, and hugged him. And then, something indescribably beautiful happened. He kept on hugging him, much longer than ever before, and his body was shaking, almost convulsing with grief. Anyone who has lost someone has seen and felt it, first a wave of emotion hits the flimsy wall of fortitude you've constructed to avoid losing your mind, and then the dam completely bursts and you lose control. Completely. It first happened to me at my favorite Uncle's funeral, when I saw my sister begin to weep. And it really happened as I walked away from my brother's open casket, a complete collapse as my legs just gave way and an outpouring of grief exploded out of me for what seemed an eternity. That's what happened to Tiger that day - a man who had built his life and career around a carefully modulated approach to every single aspect saw how worthless all that calculation is when confronted with the realization of what death truly means. Tiger would not let go, for over a minute, weeping uncontrollably while the world watched. Even his caddy didn't know what to do - hell, even his wife seemed ill-prepared to handle her husband's emotional outpouring. Tiger was forced to latch on to whoever would hold him, and for a few minutes, he just didn't care about how it looked, what his image was, that his carefully crafted veneer of strength had been completely wiped away. And, I realized that Tiger hadn't lost it over his Dad until that moment, not when he heard of his death, not when he went to the funeral or lay awake at night thinking about what his father meant to him. I'm sure he cried, but I am almost positive that it was in short bursts and then his inner strength probably took over and said, "Stop it. Don't succumb to this weakness that others call grief. Use your Dad's death as a positive, the way he would have wanted you to." This worked for a while, until the moment came for the ritual that Tiger had performed almost every time he'd won a major, except now the ritual had changed in a way he hadn't perceived. Suddenly, he realized that rituals aren't just for the cameras, or for the crowd, or for your own ego. They're a powerful force that roots us to the primal energy of spirtituality, whatever that may mean to you - be it God, the Force, yin & yang, etc. Tiger finally realized that the old ritual was finished, never to return, and the fear and sadness over this sea change in his existence turned him into a quivering emotional mess.

I have always loved sports, especially baseball. I'm not afraid to admit that I've cried at sporting events before - I bawled when Bucky Dent hit the fateful home run in the 1978 playoff against the Red Sox (a day my parents allowed my 9 year old version to stay home and watch the game), I wept when my Dad and I drove up to Oakland to see the Reds sweep the A's in the 1990 World Series during the same week that my brother died, and I even teared up recently when baseball honored one of my personal heroes, Roberto Clemente, at the All-Star game. But I wasn't prepared for my reaction to Tiger's grief - I totally lost it, and for ten minutes or so, I just wept and wept. I can't relate to the money that Tiger has, the nearly inhuman ability at a game that cruelly shows me just how human I reall am, or the fame that follows him everywhere he goes. But finally, for one moment at least, I felt a kinship with him, and I realized just how important my relationship with my father is.

Anybody who knows me is aware that my father is my best friend in the world. I'm named after his Dad, who he never had the relationship with that he craved and lost to a cruel twist of fate just as they began to build it again after a long separation. Everybody tells me how much I am like my Grandfather, both Scorpios, both full of seemingly worthless trivia, both eccentric in ways that have endeared us to some and made us dreadful to others; and finally, both encumbered by an extremely locquacious nature, especially after imbibing a few too many (I'm sure this essay, or some of my others, didn't tip anyone off to that one). So, I've always felt that my Dad got two for the price of one with me, a son and a reminder of the father he always wanted. Regardless of the reasons, we're just close to each other. When I grew up, he and I ran together, and then played golf, went to concerts, movies (well, he's not the film buff that I am but nobody I know is), and talked to each other every nearly every day. When I went about to leave for the Army, my mother pulled me aside and made me realize how badly it was affecting him; we sat together in the car, waiting for my recruiter to take me away for a long time, not knowing when, and if, we'd see each other again. It was the first time I realized what he meant to me and what I meant to him. When I was at the worst point in my disintegrating marriage, I called my Dad and asked him to drive up and meet me, on a work night, because I was hurting and had nowhere else to turn; he came right up, listened to my painful stories, and assured me that no matter what, he was there for me. A few years ago, I did something that hurt my parents' deeply; it wasn't intentional or malicious, and I still believe it was necessary, but I honestly thought I'd irreparably harmed our relationship. But after talking with him, my Dad realized why I'd done it, my reasoning and logic may differing from his. And he forgave me for it. That's why I love him - he accepts that I'm an individual who may not follow the same path as him but still values his advice and never dismisses what he has to say.

One of the reasons I love poker so much is that we play together and tell each other about every win or agonizing beat. We talk almost every day, and I expect that this will continue no matter where life takes us, until we can't do it anymore. My dad is almost 65 and while I know this isn't "old" anymore, I know that in 20-30 years, he will most likely be gone. I don't dwell on such things, but when I saw Tiger Woods weeping for that same relationship, I wept with him, knowledgeable that someday, hopefully much later than sooner, I'd be latching on hopelessly, to someone I loved with the same lost despair, wondering what ritual will be replacing the one that no longer works anymore.

So, why did I write this lengthy diatribe? I hope it's a reminder to appreciate every day you have with the people you love the most in the world. Maybe it's not your father, or your mother, or your significant other, or a sibling; it could possibly be your dog, cat or hedgehog, a co-worker, or some random person you talk to online every day (hopefully not, but I'm not judging). Find a way to say you love them - from using those very words, or doing something nice for them, or even something mundane like fixing their computer. I know it's a cliche - live every day like it's your very last; but it's an accurate cliche, and I hope that if you get anything from reading this, besides eye strain and a headache, it's the appreciation that things do change, some slowly and some far too quickly and that we should never forget it, ever.

I Won The Lottery, The Complete Sage

Damn, these Nigerian 419 scammers are getting wise to our tricks. It only took two e-mails from me to scare this guy off. FYI 419 scams are the e-mail that you get from strange African banking officials trying to use you to stash money for them. They're bad guys, and sadly, ignorant people actually give them their banking info. Anyway, I like my e-mails to this guy, so here they are for your reading (dis)pleasure:

Based on my latest batch of e-mails, I am a very respected and lucky person, and I have Africa to thank. Several disgraced former dignitaries from numerous African republics have seen fit to honor me with their trust in helping them retrieve their lost fortunes. I expect to receive a sizeable commission for my troubles. However, that's chump change compared to the $2,000,000 prize that I just won in the South African Lottery. Check out this e-mail:

From The Desk of Mrs. Dagmar Rodriguez
(An Independent Draw Auditors & Management Co-ordinators)
Euro/Afro/ Asia/America International Lottery
Promotional Programme Award.
# Lotteries Headquarters: 31, Brixon Court, Carlton East Gate, Johannesburg, Republic of South Africa.
SUB "LOTTERY WINNING NOTIFICATION"
Attn: Dear Winner,
Congratulations!!! We wish to use this medium to officially notify you on the final notification that your email address was selected among the 100 Star/Lucky Winners Worldwide for the South African National Lotteries Promotional Programme based on the South African 2010 World Cup hosting as announced on Saturday, 15 May, 2004 by FIFA in Zurich, Switzerland to be played in South Africa in 2010. You're Email address attached to the Ticket Number: (B9665 75608567 775) with! BATCH NUMBER: 15/76/EF36 and SERIAL NUMBER (SALP97585) drew the winning: (04/13/21/27/36/38-45) in this Month's Lottery Result, which subsequently bestow on you the Lottery Award Winner in the 2nd Category of this Lottery Programme. All participants were selected randomly from the Worldwide Business and Trade Journals, Web-Site & Email addresses through Computer Super Draw System and extracted from over 1.000.000 (One Million) individual Emails, Companies and Corporate Organizations Names and Addresses as listed from their various Country's Trade and Investment Journals in their Web-site from Africa, Middle East, Asia, Europe, New Zealand and Australia, North - South and Central America to promote this Lottery Programme Award by the Independent Lottery Draw Auditors.
You're Name and Ref. File Number has therefore been approved to claim a Total Sum of US$2.000.000.00 (Two Million United States Dollars) in cash credited to REF. FILE NO# (KPC/9030108308/04). This is from the Total Cash Prize of US$200.000.000.00 (Two Hundred Million United States Dollars) Jackpot to be shared among the first 100 (One Hundred) LUCKY WINNERS in the 2nd Category Worldwide this year 2006 in this Lottery Programme. Please note that your Lucky Winning Numbers falls within our Lottery Booklet Representative office here in Johannesburg, South Africa as indicated in the Play Coupon of the National Lottery Board Commission Award in Johannesburg, South African Regional Office of this Lottery Board. In view of this, your US$2.000.000.00 (Two Million United States Dollars) would be released to you by our Accredited Representative "Lottery Consultant Claim Agent " immediately he commences the processes to facilitate the release and transfer of your funds as soon as you contact him as allocated and insured under your Ref. File Numbers, approved and signed as the beneficiary to this fund in your name. Also your claim award included with Free Flight Ticket and Seven (7) Days Hotel Reservation in one of the Five Star Hotels during the World Cup Festive in 2010.
This Lottery Programme took place to promote the South African 2010 World Cup hosting as announced by FIFA in Zurich Switzerland to be played in South Africa in 2010. For Security reasons, you are advised to keep your winning information CONFIDENTIAL till your claims are processed and your money remitted to you for being one of our Lucky Winners of this Lottery prize. This is part of our precautionary measure to avoid double claiming and unwarranted abuse of this programme by some unscrupulous elements. (Please be warned). To file for your claim, please contact one of our Accredited/Authorized Representatives Lottery Consultant Claim Agent immediately.
His contact information is as follows:
Name: Duncan SitholeDirector for Foreign Exchange Transfer Dept.

Impressive, eh? Sadly, I used Google to determine that I am not eligible to receive my prize, as it is against federal law to participate in foreign lotteries. Fucking restrictive US government! Anyway, it turns out that this "lottery" e-mail is just a scam, and since I hate scam artists, I've decided to mess around with these scumbags. Here is the e-mail I sent in response (from a different, anonymous e-mail address):

Mr. Sithole,

Thank you for the most amazing e-mail of my entire life. $2 million dollars?!? I have never won so much as a bingo game in my life, and I've played the California lottery unsuccessfully for many years with nothing to show for it. So, to come home after a hard night of drinking at my local bar and find that I am now richer than I've ever dreamed, I can certainly say this is a dream come true.

The e-mail I received was somewhat vague about how to collect my winnings, and I am certainly willing to do whatever it takes to facilitate their transfer to me in the most expedient manner possible. To be honest, I could use the money as soon as possible, as I can use the funds to enter the World Series of Poker in Las Vegas. I am a great player, but until this unexpected windfall, I have never had the bankroll to prove my abilities on the big stage, ala Mike McDermott in my favorite movie "Rounders".

I can't believe South Africa is so progressive in raising funds for the Copa Mundial in 2010; I don't even like soccer, aka football, and it is ironic, don't you think, that I made my fortune because of it. Thank you so much, and I await your response with bated breath. If you can do an EFT or ACH Debit to my checking account, all the better, as I need to enter the tournament soon.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for my good fortune!

Sincerely,

Stewart Ungyere

Here's part 2 of the saga:

When last we spoke, I had just responded to Mr. Duncan Sithole, the contact at the South African lottery office who was going to pay me my money. I received a prompt reply from him, and here it is:

From: Mr. Duncan Sithole.

Attn: Stewart Ungyere,

With regard to your mail which I acknowledge the receipt herein, I am Mr. Duncan Sithole the processing and approval officer of your file till you confirm your prize winning safe into your designated local bank account.Note, If you wish to process your claims, find attached the processing form which you're required to complete accordingly with your winning reference number etc indicated in your notification messages as other various files and names coming from the Independent auditors and financial management firms that is handling the Draw Winning Notifications of this Lottery Program, based on their processes of drawing the winning result from their Data System, your name was among the lucky winners of the South African World Cup Bid 2010 Lottery programme world wide.Also scan a copy of your identity document or international passport or drivers licence for personal identification.

However, kindly be adviced that this Lottery Programme is Legitimate, reality and is been introduced to promote the South African winning Bid as the first African Nation to host the World Biggest Football Tournament in the World, come the year 2010 in Africa. We would like to inform you that, we shall require all your winning Reference Numbers etc as filed in your Winning Data notification records from the Independent Auditors and Financial Management Firms, in other to ascertain,approve and compile your file that was forwarded to us.

Note, as part of the board general operational policy, guideline and procedure in processing all prize claims you are therefore, required to fill accurately the forms. This is a stipulated law by the board of committee, due to the misconduct of people claiming to have won prizes, which does not belong to them. These document protect the organization from fraud stars, double claimimg, as well as your humble self in accordance with the South African financial and gambling regulatory act. Of 1996 as amended in 2001 but mostly for future references. In this regard, you are also to state the amount of your winning prize properly, as any mistake (on the verification form) will lead to cancellation, scanning back to this office for verification, approval and processing of your winning.

Finally, be informed that all the winning prize claims must be remitted before the 30 banking working days from the notification date, and every winning prize amount of the lottery programme that is left unclaimed shall be considered a donation to the charity organization for failure to claim of your winning prize at the stipulated date. Youre advice to keep all informations and documents concerning your winning award personally to avoid double claiming or entering into wrong hand/hands as instructed by the board. Thanks

Duncan Sithole

The form looked legitimate, but of course, asked for a bunch of personal banking information that would enable "Mr. Sithole" to clean my meager life savings out completely (maybe he's my ex-wife in disguise). Since there's no way he's getting my $50, I sent him this response:

My dearest friend Duncan (may I call you Duncan?),
I was so excited to see your response to my query, as I was afraid I was the victim of a practical joke. I still can't believe my good fortune, and my life, which was once so bleak, empty and devoid of joy, is now one filled with love, friendship and a promise of a future that will take me to places I have only read about in books. I am sorry it has been several days since your response, but to be honest, I have been on quite the spending spree. I used to worry about my reckless spending habits, and while some have accused me of "counting my chickens before they're hatched" (I wonder what the phrase is translated into South African), I know in my heart that God himself has blessed me with true friends in your republic who are going to prove them wrong about spending my life savings before I've received my winnings. You wouldn't believe what I just purchased: a 1953 Kaiser Darrin convertible, which is the most beautiful American automobile ever produced. It was only $55,000, which is now a small price to pay for such beauty. Can you believe it? I've been driving the same 1982 Chrysler LeBaron for the past 15 years, and now I am behind the wheel of this work of art. And I owe it all to you, good sir!!! I would kiss you if I were in South Africa!

As I have been so busy purchasing a new car, wardrobe, the entire Criterion Collection DVD set, and a membership at my local country club (not to mention some awesome Ping golf clubs), I have been remiss in forwarding my banking information to you. I tried to open the attachment, but my e-mail couldn't handle it. My friend asked me to have you inbed (?) it into the body of your next e-mail. Also, I will be playing in a World Series of Poker event this week, so I will have limited access to my e-mail (I was able to borrow the entry fee from a nice Sicillian gentleman named Nicholas Santoro, based solely on your e-mail - he mentioned something called a vig but was vague about what it meant; he did tell me that if I couldn't repay him by the end of next week that vig is tacked onto principal and continues to accrue - you may have more experience in banking than me, but I have no idea what he's talking about). Obviously, I want to repay this debt soon, so please forward my winnings to me as soon as possible. If the EFT or ACH Debit (again, stuff I really don't understand) don't work, you could also send me a check; the local check cashing place said they have the funds to cover the withdrawal.
Thank you again! I would love to have you as my guest in my suite at the Rio here in Vegas, and I GUARANTEE you that we will have a great time (I have several ladies who work at the "Tilted Kilt" who seem to enjoy Cristal and caviar). In fact, if it works, why don't you just fly out to Vegas (on me) and deliver the check personally. I have one word for you my friend: SCORES!!!!! I am sure your schedule is busy, but it'd be a great time. Please let me know what else I can do to expedite the receipt of my lottery funds.

Most affectionately,
Stewart

I never heard back from the bastard, so he probably pocketed my winnings! Coc$%**#er!!!

Emily Litella Lives

This still makes me laugh a year later. I love bad writing (being guilty of plenty myself). Originally posted 6/27/06:

The late great Emily Litella has returned from the grave, resurfacing in the Yahoo News copy editing department. Here's a quote from an article regarding Chicago Cubs pitcher Kerry Wood that has her fingerprints all over it:

"The MRI in Dr. Kremchek's terms, stated it was pristine, that the labia repair looked as if it was completely intact, looked like it had healed nicely and perfectly. He said his rotator cuff looks pristine, the joint looks good. So there is no significant concerns of any kind of significant issue or injury or anything like that," trainer Mark O'Neal said.

That's labrum, Emily.

Oh, that's very different; Never Mind!

Friday Film Appreciation: The Shining

This was going to an ongoing series on my MySpace blog, but much like 'Fox Force 5', it sputtered out after only one entry. Originally posted 6/23/06:

SPOILER ALERT: First off, if you haven't seen "The Shining", well, shame on you. Secondly, SEE IT! Third, this article reveals important plot details of that film and reading it without seeing the movie first would be very, very wrong!

In the Chicago Sun-Times, Roger Ebert does an always interesting bi-weekly series of articles called "The Great Movies" (his first 100 are collected in a very nice book of the same name). While he's no Pauline Kael, they're very much worth the time to read. The current article is about one of my favorite films, "The Shining". Here's a link:
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060618/REVIEWS08/606180302

So, what does a mere mortal like myself have to say that Roger doesn't about this masterpiece of suspense? A lot, actually. First off, anyone who knows me is well aware who my favorite director of all time is: Stanley Kubrick. One of these days I'll write a full appreciation of my great love of this filmmaking giant (as I always say, "Kubrick is God!"), but for now, I'll stick to "The Shining". I read the source novel prior to seeing the film, and to be honest, like several other Kubrick films, I had a hard time wrapping my mind around it. Kubrick changed the book in so many ways that even Stephen King disavowed it (of course, he also directed "Maximum Overdrive", so I wouldn't take his opinion too seriously). I had a hard time with the changes, as I initially thought they hurt the story. As usual, though, I couldn't get this movie out of my head. The images, the score, the intense performances of Jack Nicholson and Shelley Duvall; thoughts of all these things kept me up at night, trying to understand what Kubrick had done. So, I saw it again; and again; and again; so many times that I honestly can't tell you how many times I've actually seen it. But, I think I finally realized what he was going for (although I would hardly deign to ever completely understand the way his genius worked).

Basically, "The Shining" reminds me of a great 50s B-Film, "The Incredible Shrinking Man". Although it's usually lumped in with a bunch of other bad atomic era flicks like "The Amazing Colossal Man", "The Attack of the 50-Foot Woman" or "The Incredibly Strange People Who Suddenly Stopped Living And Became Mixed-Up Zombies" (okay, I just love that title), "Shrinking Man" is a much better film than those other schlocky pieces. The hero goes through a radioactive cloud, begins to shrink, and slowly becomes victimized by the things he took for granted as a regular person (the cat, spiders, dirt). The ending is not happy but also not totally sad; he shrinks so much that he becomes one with the infinite of the universe and goes beyond our existence (try wrapping your head around that when you're six years old). The analogy is odd, but I believe "The Shining" is also about the disintegration of a man and his absorption into an existence that is beyond our ken. That is, Jack Torrance's existence is slowly subsumed into the puzzling infinity of the "Overlook Hotel". Kubrick opens the film with a very big helicopter shot of the Colorado wilderness and slowly settles on the Torrance family en route to their final destination. Everything is big, the sweeping score, the speed of the camera as it travels across the sky. Then, once they're ensconced in the hotel, the large rooms and grounds of the Overlook give way to tighter camera shots, and the increasing isolation of the family is mirrored by the filmmaking techniques. Long shots of Jack at work become much more narrow, and the focus inside the hotel is on cramped corridors and small rooms; as the weather turns, the isolation becomes claustrophobic. While this is occuring, the man we knew as Jack Torrance is changing, shrinking, slowly disappearing altogether.

Many people see Jack's character as one descending into madness, but I don't at all. Instead, I see his character becoming consumed by the "Overlook". In my mind, "The Overlook" is no mere haunted hotel; it's a darker place, a nexus between our existence and another that could even be considered a remnant of (or a portal to) some ancient evil thing that is way beyond our understanding (very much a concept that King/Kubrick borrowed from the author H.P. Lovecraft). There's a reason that both Dick Halloran and Danny Torrance share a psychic gift (and bond); the Overlook is like a spiritual magnet, drawing people who can sense things beyond normal reality into its web. I believe that it uses Danny as a tool to locate Jack and bring him into its fold. I also feel that the hotel wants those with the "Shining" to die there, ideally a violent death at the hands of its minions (does Danny really contact Dick Halloran and bring him back to the hotel or does the hotel itself do this? Think about it: Dick senses danger, rushes back, and is then immediately murdered by Jack with no idea that it's coming. Then, Jack/The Hotel turn immediately to murdering Danny. I feel the Hotel wants to feed on these psychic spirits to strenthen its power). Why would the hotel use or need Jack Torrance? In my mind, it senses a capacity for evil within him and needs to use his weaknesses to turn him over to the "dark side". Jack has sinned in the past, with alcohol and violence and other hinted at foul deeds; when Wendy suspects Jack of child abuse, she does so because of Jack's dark history. Slowly, the hotel uses Jack's weaknesses (rage, insecurity, frustration, booze) to break down his ability to fight its desire to consume him. Once Jack's last resistance is broken by his dark deal with the evil forces in the hotel (he makes a deal to escape from the refrigerator), the man we knew is completely gone and replaced by a murderous simulacrum. It may be Jack Torrance's body that is acting, but it's not him at all.

Getting back to the claustrophobia, the most famous moment in the film exemplifies the concept of shrinking - Jack pursues Wendy into her tiny bathroom and shatters the door with an axe. As his head pops in and says, "Here's Johnny!", the entire frame is filled with this image of madness. After this, Jack enters the hedge maze (a labyrinth that symbolizes the move from one reality to another) and never returns. As Ebert mentions, Kubrick filmed a scene that showed Wendy saying her husband's body was never found. I think Kubrick removed it, because he didn't want to give the viewer easy answers. Of course, the viewer does see Jack one final time: in a photograph of a party at the Overlook in the 1920s. He has been completely absorbed (shrunk into the infinity of this evil vortex), and I would imagine the others in the photo were also hapless souls who were captured there. In the infinite, time no longer has meaning (imagine the Native American concept of time as a circle rather than a linear continuum), and I would imagine that the Judeo-Christian version of hell and heaven would be much like this (a minister once answered my question about time in the afterlife and said it would be "timeless"). So, like the protagonist of "Shrinking Man", our "hero" is gone at the end of the film and off on an adventure that we can't even conceptualize (although I'd rather not go on the same trip as Jack Torrance, thank you very much).

My Favorite Memo Ever

Originally posted 6/16/06 on MySpace:

Click on the link below to read Matt Stone's (and my) favorite memo ever. I try to use similar language in my correspondence at work, which may explain why I am so "well-traveled". I especially love item #5 on the memo: "This is one joke we really want to fight for". HAHAHA!!! The MPAA sucks!!!
http://www.mcnblogs.com/thehotblog/archives/2006/06/preparing_for_t.html

Stuff From the MySpace Archive - Review of Abel Gance's 'Napoleon'

I'm going to post most of my old MySpace stuff here, unless it's completely irrelevant (I guess that means I'm not going to post anything). I wrote this review of Napoleon, because I wanted to appear more intelligent than you. Well, I actually wrote it because it's an amazing film that very few people will see in this generation, and I hope one or two of you might check it out:

Back in the early 80s, Francis Ford Coppola's American Zoetrope studio seemed to have a major 'event picture' coming out every year. There was Apocalypse Now, The Black Stallion and then the movie that destroyed it all, One From The Heart (here's to directorial excess!). In between those, though, Coppola devoted a ton of energy to releasing a restoration of the last great silent film epic, Abel Gance's Napoleon.

Gance was a maverick director who had the great misfortune to unleash this epic on the world at the same time that a horrible little gimmick movie called The Jazz Singer changed the sonic landscape of motion pictures forever. Suddenly, this 6 hour epic of Napoleon's early life and rise to power in post-revolutionary France did not appeal to the masses as much as hearing Al Jolson sing "Mammy", and it was a huge financial disaster (think Ishtar/Waterworld/Poseidon). The studio eviscerated the original cut and then tried to release it in multiple expurgated versions (much like MGM did with "Once Upon A Time In America - an amazingly complex and nuanced 3.5 hour film that was cut down to an incoherent 1 hr 45 min version); nothing worked, Gance's career was seriously damaged and he was so despondent that he destroyed portions of the film himself. Although Gance would later try to add sound elements to later reissues (including an early attempt at stereophonic sound), the film was ultimately forgotten by all but the most astute film scholars. One of these people was Kevin Brownlow, who would become the person most responsible for ensuring that Napoleon would finally be seen by modern audiences.

There's a long complex history behind the restoration, but essentially, Brownlow located every element of the film he could find over a 20 year span, and working closely with Abel Gance, he was able to piece together a 4.5 hour version of the film. Francis Ford Coppola, who had enormous love for Gance's film, bought the rights and funded much of the restoration. His father Carmine composed a new score for the US reissue, and over several years, the film was restored into a print of unmistakable beauty and power. I remember the grand premiere of the new print at the Cinerama Dome, where Carmine Coppola would conduct a live orchestra performance of the score. Unfortunately, being too young to go down to Hollywood myself, I never got a chance to see the reissue (I think I missed the weeklong engagement at the Mustang Drive-In). So, 25 years later, imagine my excitement as I found myself at the New Beverly Cinema watching a rare re-release of the Coppola print. It had been so long since the original reissue that I had no idea of what I was going to see - running time, film quality, zilch. This was fun considering I've probably seen or read most of the plot points of modern films due to the internet, movie trailers on TV, etc. It was almost a virgin experience, one almost as fun as the first time engaging in the activity that we associate with that term (hey, at least I was sober this time).

I knew I was in for a long night, as the New Beverly usually runs double features and Napoleon was the only film on the program. The film started at 8PM, and the intermission was at 10:15; ultimately, I didn't leave the theater until just after 12:30AM. From the start, I was enthralled. The film began with Napoleon's youth in a boy's school, and the first half hour focused on a showcase of his already evident skills as a military leader - in a great snowball war between two groups of classmates. Gance also takes his time in showing the traits that would lead Napoleon to greatness and also lead to his downfall - strong will, great capacity for fierce rage and most unfortunately, an excessive amount of hubris. From here, the film moves to the early 1790s and spends a great deal of time relating the events of the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror. While this may seem a boring exercise in European History, the filmmaking and amazingly expressive performances of the cast never bogged things down (the big three of Robespierre, Danton and Marat were portrayed so vividly that I was sad to see the Reign of Terror end). Gance paralleled the decay of the Jacobins with Napoleon's great success in Toulon, and his romance of Josephine and triumphant rise to power in the Italian campaign filled out the remainder of the film. As strange as it sounds, I was sad to realize the film was ending. I could have watched another four hours. This is not to say that the film is not without its weaknesses. Some of the story elements were a little too slapsticky and comical and contrasted too sharply with the gravity of the events being shown. The romance with Josephine was a little too much for me, as the viewer was subjected to a few mundane domestic moments too many. Also, the actress playing Josephine was not up to the task of convincing the viewer that she was the emotional match of Napoleon; his performance and presence were much too strong for her, and it was the least successful aspect of the film for me. These are really minor quibbles, though, as the positives outweighed the negatives tenfold.

As solid as the storytelling was, where the film really stands out is in the technical arena. The cinematography was magnificent, especially in the war sequences and in the French Assembly during the revolution. Gance essentially invented the technique that would later be adopted for 50s Cinemascope; he used three cameras for several panoramic shots and then projected them next to each other (he called it "Polyvision"). The effect was breathtaking; the shot of the grand army of the republic staged on the Italian border was the greatest I've seen in a film made before Gone With The Wind. Gance also made tryptiches during certain scenes, using 6, 8 and even 12 different squares to show different aspects of the action (the snowball battle at the start of the film used this to great effect). Gance also tinted different sections of the film; as the French army marched triumphantly into Piedmont, the picture was divided into three segments, each colored with the Blue, White and Red of the French flag. Finally, the editing was groundbreaking; Gance used many new techniqes for the transitions between scenes that I had never seen in films of this era; one example is a spiraling inward wipe that would then spiral back with the new scene appearing. Also, there is a scene toward the end where Napoleon visits the empty Assembly in Paris, and the ghosts of the Revolution begin to appear to him. What was so impressive about this was that the ghosts didn't materialize all at once but instead gradually. This is a difficult feat, as multiple exposures would have been needed. I can't imagine how he did this, but it blew me away.

In the end, I am so glad that I forced myself to drive down for a 4.5 hour film on a worknight. I'd appreciate it if the New Beverly would schedule films like this on the weekend, as I am now completely fried. But, I really appreciate that this great theater still exists in this DVD generation, as I seem to be one of the few people left who prefers to see films on the big screen. I am also thankful that there are people like Kevin Brownlow and Francis Coppola who believe in preserving the history of the cinema and aren't just interested in the latest films in the Best Buy New Release section. Sadly, Coppola and Brownlow are now at odds over the rights to the film and what constitutes a definitive version - Brownlow has continued to add new elements to the print since the 1980s release but Coppola won't allow any version to be seen in the US except his cut. Hopefully, they will work out these issues and a new, definitive version will be released someday. I would recommend this film to anyone who has the patience to sit through it, but you should definitely see it in a theater. Much like the great 70mm epics of the 50s-70s, a film like this just doesn't translate to television.

Starting Fresh

If the third time really is the charm, then this blog is going to work out smashingly. My poker blog ran out of gas, because I couldn't find a voice or anything unique about my take on poker to make it interesting enough to write about (much less to get people to read it). My MySpace blog has languished, because MySpace annoys me on a lot of levels and just logging in to the site became a chore. So, now we have Blog #3, in which I will try to let my eclectic nature drag me wherever it feels like; hopefully, I'll attract a few readers after I write some good stuff (or put a bunch of tags with names like 'pic, linday lohan's punani, Britney puking video'). First, I'm going to cross-post some old stuff from the MySpace blog, since I changed my profile to private after getting way too much junk mail. Then, we'll see where this goes from there!