I'm cross-posting this on my Xanga and on MySpace:
Carmody called it when I started my Xanga blog just under two years ago—"Nobody uses Xanga any more, old man. Get on MySpace." I resisted and resisted, because (let's face it) MySpace can be mighty obnoxious. But as I've started utilizing it as a promotional tool for the film stuff, I'm spending more and more time on the 'Space, and it's becoming more and more of a hassle to keep the Xanga up to date, and (either on top of that, or because of that) it keeps getting fewer and fewer views. A few weeks back I folded my Fourth Row Center Xanga into the main Xanga; now I'm folding that into my personal MySpace (which used to be the FOC company MySpace, but I've started a MySpace Film page for FOC and am moving the friends and company info over to there).
So I'll be blogging over there from now on; here's the direct link to the blog section. Fear not, anybody who still reads the Xanga, since I won't make it a Private viewing, for-Friends-only thing. I'll update it more often and it will include my usual ramblings and movie reviews and so forth.
...which is one more reason I'm glad I'm in New York.
For real, though, work is insane this week. There's a lot of damn stories to move. Shit on fire is something that local affiliates have no problem going out and shooting, so we're working awfully hard. I've only been able to watch one episode of The Office on my iPod tonight-- and that was mostly during my break. Shudder!
Otherwise, things are pretty good. Tomorrow morning I'll be sending Gracie Rose off to Tribeca and South By Southwest, which completes the first phase of our fesival push. Now we wait-- till December to hear from Sundace, till January or February on these two. If one of them accepts us, then the world is a glorious place. If not, then we start looking at smaller, more-winnable (yeah, that's a real phrase. Look it up in a book!), regional festivals with cash prizes and we pushing there.
Also sending off my monthly shipment of DVDs for the Orpheum; I programmed a Halloween night double feature of the Bela Lugosi Dracula paired with Nosferatu, and did a fun pre-show with a funny, mad scientist Bugs Bunny cartoon and a bunch of cheezy vampire movie trailers. Should be fun. Check it out on Halloween night if you're looking for something to do, Wichitans.
Spent the weekend cutting Amber's stuff for the second Karl & Bernie short, which I finished up last night; tomorrow I meet with Mac and Mike (who's finally back in town) for an afternoon rehearsal, and then we'll shoot their half of it on Wednesday. Then we'll have a super-fast turnaround and shoot the entire third short with Welsby on Sunday, and then I'll finish cutting the second one after Welsby heads home on November 1st in order to get it up during the first week of November. So this week will be kinda crazy for shooting, but then we'll have all of November (basically) off, at least as far as shooting goes.
Also, we went to the Bitter End on Saturday night to hear The District, the band that Rebekah's friend Jessie's boyfriend Paul plays in. (Follow that?) They wuz good. And I like Paul--he's a nice guy, plus his dad is the guy who wrote the theme to Miami Vice, which he's basically lived off of since. I find this to be wicked awesome. At any rate, the Bitter End is legendary for all of the greats who played there early in their career-- musicians like Dylan and Joni Mitchell and Kris Kristofferson, and comics like Cos and Woody and Carlin. So that was cool.
Oh, and the big Comedians of Comedy show is this Saturday. Patton, Maria, Brian Posehn, David Cross, many others. Hurray, hurray.
Control ** Anton Corbijn's biopic of Joy Division lead singer Ian Curtis is beautifully made and features a brilliant performance from the always-reliable Samantha Morton, but Jesus Christ is it an irritating film to watch. It has a definite sense of time and place but little perspective about its leading character, who reveals himself as a whiny asshole during the film's first half and doesn't change, and then he commits suicide at 23 at the film's end. This is not to say that a film has to have a likable protagonist to work (witness Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Godfather II, etc., etc.), but Curtis isn't compelling or interesting, either; he made some decent music, complained a lot ("I give so much on stage"-- awww, poor baby) and then leaves his kid an orphan. It's kind of like watching a film about Kurt Cobain. But Corbijn's film doesn't make his story matter; we watch it uncomfortably for a couple of hours, and then we can go home.
Blade Runner: The Final Cut *** Blade Runner is way overrated. Yep, I said it. The production design was clearly influential and it drips with style and atmosphere, but the story is no great shakes, the smoke-and-flashy lights cinematography gets old quick, and Vangelis' score has not aged well. At all. I saw the film once before, in its 1992 re-release (which was supposed to be the Director's Cut-- whatever), and remembered liking it more than now, which probably had less to do with any of the microscopic changes made to warrant this newest theatrical and DVD release and more to do with me being 16. I'm sure that this newest final cut will delight the film's fans--I'm just not one of them.
Rendition **** There's much to admire in Gavin Hood's political drama, which tackles the thorny issue of "extreme rendition" (read: torture) of terror suspects at sites outside of the U.S. Hood and screenwriter Kelley Sane utilize a multi-story structure that isn't entirely successful, especially when a timeline wrench is thrown late in the film which takes the viewer out of the story at the precise moment when one should be most involved. That complain aside, there are sequences of tremendous power here, and several excellent performances-- particularly those of Peter Saarsgard and Meryl Streep, who effortlessly personifies Bush-era government arrogance.
Gone Baby Gone ***** Ben Affleck's feature directorial debut is an astonishingly confident and expertly crafted piece of genre filmmaking-- a procedural with a healthy dose of corruption and Catholic guilt thrown in for good measure. The script, culled from Dennis Lahane's novel, is tight and effecient, while Affleck's direction is lean and workmanlike and consistantly spot-on (particularly in a brutally effective set-piece around the hour mark that I literally had to catch my breath after). Terrific performances all around, particularly from the often-misused Ed Harris and Affleck's brother Casey, turning in his second great performance in as many months. First rate from end to end.
So, here's the thing-- I'm spending too much time on blog maintenance lately, and not enough time actually writing stuff. I'm maintaining two MySpaces now, both for promotional purposes: one for Films On Consignment, one for Karl & Bernie (plus one for Theatre On Consignment, though I'm not the only one taking care of upkeep there), plus the two Xangas. In the interest of simplifying, I've decided to fold my movie review Xanga blog back into this one.
I originally started it because I was doing regular published film writing for the City Paper, and I wanted a place to collect that stuff seperately (and to try to get more writing work) without having to mix it up with, you know, my ramblings and pictures of our cats. However, since that paper folded, it's become kind of a chore to keep that one going, so I'm gonna close up shop there and work movie reviews into the rotation here (an easier decision since I was getting very, very few hits over there).
Try not to cry.
If you weren't reading over there, I threw together a few lines from the current reviews to get you back up to speed; here's some thoughts on movies currently in release:
Michael Clayton ***** The opening frames of accomplished screenwriter Tony Gilroy’s directorial debutsuck you in and never let go; this is a superbly crafted, masterful film, entertaining and thought-provoking, thrilling and heartbreaking. Although its thriller elements are effective (and come to a rousing, terrific climax), Michael Clayton is a thoughtful character study masquerading as a Michael Douglas movie, a beautifully written and delicately acted examination of what happens when smart people get in over their heads. See Michael Clayton. It’s one of the year’s best films.
The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford *****
It may have a long and unwieldy title, and a running time to match, but make no mistake about it: Andrew Dominik’s epic drama is fascinating, lyrical, and fucking spellbinding. To be sure, Assassination is a plenty leisurely film (about 2 hours and 40 minutes), and it’s in no hurry to get where it’s going. It is no doubt a film that will find many detractors (indeed, it has found plenty already)—many don’t have the patience, energy, or interest in a long, delicate film like this one. It’s their loss. The Assassination of Jesse James is one of the finest films in recent memory.
Lust, Caution **** Ang Lee’s latest is flawed movie but still a pretty goddamned good one, difficult and slowly paced and too damn long but fascinating all the same. In its best moments it recalls Last Tango In Paris—insofar as its already-notorious graphic sexuality is neither gratuitous nor intended (solely, anyway) for titillation, but is a vital component in understanding its leading characters and their relationship with each other Lee’s made plenty of masterpieces (Brokeback, Crouching Tiger, The Ice Storm), so I think we can let him get by, once in a while, with one that’s merely very good.
The Kingdom **** So here’s action picture with a brain, a revenge movie with a conscience, a film that wants (admirably) to have it both ways, and mostly succeeds. It throws the crew-of-experts police-procedural into the blender with a Syriana-lite style political drama, and while it’s an occasionally lean mixture, it is well-made and superbly acted and often brutally effective. The Kingdom isn’t perfect, but boy is it engaging.
The Darjeeling Limited **** I still can’t decide whether Darjeeling’s place as the fifth film of director Wes Anderson is a blessing or a curse, or both. Did I like the film more than I should have, because of the goodwill I brought into it and the high quality of Anderson’s previous works? Or was I holding it up to too high a bar? Would I have fallen all over myself, raving and praising, if it were the first film of some new talent? Overall, It’s a good film, but it doesn’t quite fill some big shoes.
We Own The Night *** There's two terrific set pieces here, and some nice performances (especially by the always-reliable Robert Duvall and the unfailingly sexy Eva Mendes), but you've seen most of We Own The Night many, many, many times before. There's a Departed-lite vibe to the whole enterprise (especially thanks to Mark Wahlberg's inolvement); it's not a terrible film, but it certainly isn't essential viewing.
Across the Universe **** I may just be partial to the Julie Taymor’s Fab Four musical because I’m a Beatles freak, but there are some really clever things happening here—some wonderful re-arrangements, several terrific performances (Bono’s electrifying take on “I Am The Walrus” is a standout), and it’s a beautiful picture to look at. It’s a little long (particularly in the second act), but I can’t think of much I’d want to go without; even its less successful sequences (like Eddie Izzard’s strange, talked-up, Robert Preston-y version of “Mr. Kite”) are at least of a passing interest. Not everything works, but this is tricky material, and if you want to know how badly it could have gone, run out and rent that Frampton/Bee Gees Sgt. Pepper movie.
Into The Wild *** Sean Penn directed Wild and wrote the screenplay from Jon Kraukauer’s nonfiction book, and it is a film that is consistently interesting and well-made, while simultaneously irritating and occasionally infuriating. In all fairness, my disconnect with the film could have everything to do with my inability to idealize any of what happens in it; the title of Into the Wild might as well be 140 Minutes of Things Jason Would Never Do. But I did have trouble identifying with the hero, and by the end of the film, I was downright angry with him—fuck the Grizzly Adams fantasy, kid, and get to a goddamned doctor.
In The Valley of Elah **** Paul Haggis’ follow-up to Crash is a far better film than that one, though much of its success is due more to the performances than to Haggis’ script, which veers wildly from effective understatement to clichéd boilerplate. It is primarily worth seeing for the pitch-perfect leading performance of Tommy Lee Jones, who is incapable of a false moment here—never reaching, never pushing, every gesture and line reading completely natural and entirely believable. In The Valley of Elah misses its marks occasionally, but it has moments of greatness, and shows an occasionally overvalued filmmaker growing and learning.
Eastern Promises **** David Cronenberg is a director who I frequently admire but am rarely engaged by; there’s much of his new film that’s good, yet I was never sucked into it the way I wanted to be. The overall tone is strange and sterile and kind of all over the place, but man, when this thing works, it works; the already-notorious bathhouse fight sequence is a stunningly visceral piece of action cinema. As it is, I found Eastern Promises to be a fascinating exercise but short of greatness; how much you agree may have a lot to do with how you feel about Mr. Cronenberg.
Lake of Fire ***** Tony Kaye’s epic documentary on abortion is hard, hard, hard to watch. It runs over two and a half hours and is an utterly unflinching look at the abortion debate—including the depiction, twice, of the abortion procedure itself. It is also an incredibly accomplished documentary, even-handed and unbiased, beautifully shot and masterfully constructed.
My Kid Could Paint That *****
Riveting and thought-provoking, Amir Bar-Lev’s documentary about Marla Olmstead, the four-year old girl who made national news when her paintings were taken up by modern art connoisseurs, generates genuine suspense and real pathos.
2 Days In Paris ***** Perhaps the most valuable element of writer/director/star Julie Delpy’s astonishingly assured film is that it is one of the few great romantic comedy/dramas in recent memory that is written from a female perspective; most of the good ones (like High Fidelity or Garden State) have female characters that are well-drawn but nowhere near as complex as their male protagonists, and most of the female-penned rom-com is that horrible vanilla bourgeoisie crap that Nora Ephron and Nancy Meyers spew out. Delpy’s film is a quiet one, yes, but in many ways, it’s a revelation.
I Want Someone To Eat Cheese With **** Writer/director/star Jeff Garlin’s semi-autobiographical, semi-improvisational comedy mixes huge laughs (and there are some big ones) with moments that cut very close. Garlin never goes for easy sympathy (as an actor or a filmmaker), and the film is better for it. Oh, and it doesn’t hurt that he gets so many funny people (Sarah Silverman, Bonnie Hunt, Amy Sedaris, Dan Castellaneta, Richard Kind, etc.) to fill out his supporting roles. I Want Someone To Eat Cheese With may have an awkward title and feel like a vanity project, but it is a funny, telling little movie.
So it's finally fall. We were still up in the mid-80s at the beginning of the week, which sort of blew; aside from being hot and sweaty in our window-unit-only apartment, there was the added bonus of no trash service on Monday for Columbus Day, and let me tell you what--there is nothing quite like the smell of hot garbage on Steinway Street on a Monday afternoon. So yeah, I was ready for fall.
The cold hit quickly, during the day yesterday, so of course I'm already sniffling and sneezing. I swung by Duane Reade today and picked up Nyquil--oh, excuse me, let me look.... ah, Duane Reade Night Time. Plus Duane Reade Day Time, plus a vitamin C supplement. If I remember to take the vitamin C every day, and wear my socks to bed (don't argue with me on this, wife!), I won't catch colds. I swear.
I've kept busy this week not doing much of anything. I've spent a lot of time using my fancy Friend Blaster program to rack up friends (and therefore, hopefully, views and contacts) for the FOC MySpace and the Karl & Bernie MySpace. It's an automated program, but every once in a while you have to check on it and type in a nonsense code so it'll continue. Which is a pain, but still a helluva lot easier than doing it manually. Anyway, we've got a bunch of views and response to the first short, so that's good. We shoot Amber's part of the next short on Monday, but then Welsby comes into town like a week after she leaves, so I had to do a quick script for a third short last weekend in order to have something to shoot when he's here. And then we'll go back and pick up the other half of the second one (which will end up being the third one... confusing, right?) after that.
God, it seems like I should have more interesting things to say, since I haven't done this recently... but I'm afraid that's just not the case.
Oh well. Here's the trailer I just saw today for Charlie Wilson's War, which stars Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts and Philip Seymour Hoffman and was written by Aaron Sorkin (which gets no mention in the trailer) and directed by the great Mike Nichols, whose career I would like to have.
