three a.m.

Has anyone else seen this Charlie Kaufman film from 2001?  I heard about it a couple of years ago, but put off seeing it because the reviews were so-so.  Well, Luke & I watched it last night — and I can’t believe I didn’t hear more about this movie sooner!  Try this: Patricia Arquette plays a nature writer with a hormone condition that causes her to grow hair all over her body.  After writing a couple of best sellers, she falls in love with a scientist (Tim Robbins) who’s infatuated with teaching mice table manners.  While hiking one day, they find a wild man living in the woods who believes he’s an ape (You might recognize both these actors from Danny Deckchair, another quirky modern film that shouldn’t work — but does).  Well, you can see where this is going, and sure it’s gimicky, but damn is it funny and well done.  Kaufman is great at messing with Hollywood cliches, and this movie is no exception.  The cleverest — and funniest — movie I’ve seen in a while.

Dusty bumper   to bugsplattered headlights
your body still speaks to me
whispers promises   of the open road:
motoring   across the expanse of montana
(and its blue lakes that dot the landscape like tears)
jerking awake   in east coast cityscapes
threading through redwoods or sailing
into the Arizona horizon     endless    as the American dream
Where I could not walk you
have carried me   and I have felt your black
blood   on my hands   And I must ask
(as must we all in times like these)   Is there anything
anything    I could have done?   
But let me trace your curves
one   last   time with my fingertips
Oh the beauty dimples   the love scratches
Too bad you’re rotten    on the inside

It’s true: the 626 is officially about to become scrap. The transmission is shot.   Such a shame — I kind of love that car, but it would cost me upwards of $2000 to get it fixed, after which it would be worth about $1600.  Add it to the list of friends that are leaving me this summer.  We’ll always remember your whistling window, baby.

I just finished up the final week of my summer class yesterday, one reason I haven’t updated this week.   When not reading depressing articles about the media, writing a story that makes no sense, or drinking Joel’s beer and swatting golf balls behind his former apartment, I’ve found time to watch a couple of good movies.

Saw Kurosawa’s RAN last night with Luke & Perez — the retelling of King Lear in Feudal Japan, with sons instead of daughters.  This movie is so good it’s tough to describe.  It’s almost three hours long, and it really seems like it should be boring, particularly since you more or less know what’s going to happen.  But somehow, it manages to be completely not boring.  There’s a few minor changes to the plot — there’s a character named Kaiede who’s kind of like Goneril, but more interesting, more hardcore.  I haven’t read Lear in a while, but I think the fool has a bigger role in this version too.  Cinematography and acting are brilliant — it’s one of those films where you can tell that every shot, every detail was meticulously planned.  At the same time, the urge to modify or add your own lines to the film is irresistable (hence the title of this post).  It’s a film that can be enjoyed on many levels.  A masterpiece, possibly one of the best films I’ve ever seen.

The other movie I saw recently was The Motorcycle Diaries.  Che!  Che!  Here’s a young, idealistic Ernesto Guevara, traveling through South America with his longtime homie, Alberto Granada.   They travel through Argentina, Chile, & Peru, witness a lot of social injustice, and spend time at a leper colony.  It’s extremely well put together, beautiful to look at, and entertaining.  I was a little troubled, though, that the Ernesto presented here was dripping with concern for humanity, but no clues were really given to his dark side — is this irreponsible, given El Che’s reputation for torture and executions?  If you’re looking for an aesthetically pleasing story that you can feel good about, this is it.  If you want complex insight into Ernesto Guevara’s background and psychology, pick up a book.

Like to hear about yourself?  Here’s a nice quiz: http://similarminds.com/global-adv.html Let us know how you do.

My results are below.  Is that really me?  I don’t know about dangerous!

Stability results were moderately high which suggests you are relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic.

Orderliness results were low which suggests you are overly flexible, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense too often of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.

Extraversion results were medium which suggests you are moderately talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting.

trait snapshot:

So I blew off the paper for my media literacy class and went to visit friends in Northern VIrginia this weekend.  Did a hike at Great Falls.  Won’t bore you with the details, but here’s a few pics — a nice place, if you’re ever at the va-md line near DC.

Ahh, nature.  Let’s enjoy it while it’s here! 

Speaking of impending disasters, George W came to campus today to talk to the Future Farmers of America about privatizing social security.  Only confirmed republicans could get tickets to the event though, because George gets upset when people ask tough questions or challenge his position.  I went to protest with friends, and we were kept about a hundred yards from the building where he was speaking.  It was nice to get a chance to talk with people passing by, particularly the students — I feel like that’s what protest should be about.  More talking, less shouting.  Don’t play into the media stereotypes.  There were several hundred protestors there, and only a few were yelling at people, except for a few chants of "This is what democracy looks like!"  –  Most of us were smiling, handing out leaflets, trying to connect with people — yet the early news article by the local paper has stated "There was a surge in action by the
protesters when the people began exiting Eisenhower Auditorium after
the president’s speech, with protesters shouting at the speech-goers,
who in turn waved small American flags or simply ignored the shouts."  Don’t believe the hype.  Let me clarify, for the record, that we were flipped off, mocked, and told to go home.  Let me also clarify that there were plenty of friendly exchanges between protestors and speechgoers.  Our sign got a lot of compliments, in spite of the sloppy areas I painted (thanks for fixing that, Sharon & Courtney):

We got interviewed by the local tv, plus some newspaper pics.  It’s all about the image!

Courtney.

A good question.

I didn’t get any good any good shots that show how many people were out today. 

So that’s what I’ve been up to, and now I have a silly-looking sunburn.

Fight the Power.

I know it’s cliche, but don’t be a dick.  Save the whales.

Click here to join the Virtual March.

Seduced by the free cover and untapped possibilities of an empty bar, ltg108 & I decided to patronize the local Saloon, rather than its upstairs neighbor, the Deli, though both are owned by the same parent company (Dante’s Inc.).  Here we shot pool and drank Killian’s Red (my mistake) as we awaited the 1/2 price drinks offered from 9-11 p.m.  We were treated to the rare treat of a FOX Sunday night line-up, which we gulped down like so many bowls of mozza ball soup, seeing as neither of us get TV.  (American Dad = Family Guy + prozac?)
    Then the band arrived.  Masquerading as a local cover band, Katzu came in, the TV screen went up, the guitar riffs started, and even though the audience pretended to ignore the band, I think we were all secretly awed.  After the first song, the singer asked the sound guy to "lower the lead vocals."  Who has seen such humility from the local scene?  Add to this the fact that these guys played a song off their second album, whistled well, and played no covers by Journey, Boston, or Ratt, and a clear picture begins to form.  A picture of a band that does a flawless version of Tom Petty’s "You Wreck Me."  A band that covers Peter Gabriel, but not Coldplay.  A picture of a garage band, doing it for the love.  A picture of the guys down the street, telling EMI to shove their contract up their ass.  These ain’t your daddy’s sellouts.
    But perhaps Katzu’s greatest strenght is its heart, exemplified by the understated, folky whistling motif that pervades their second album.  I asked audience member L. T. Gerwe why he came all the way from Nittany Avenue to see these local guys rock their faces off.  "What I like about this band is that even though they’re a bunch of not-that-good-lookin guys, they believe in themselves."  Truer words were never spoken. 
    This has been a 3 a.m. music review. 

    Brunched with NY Times Notable Author Josip Novakovich & Co. today, which may fail to impress those of you who know him well.  Oh, but he’s such good people, and his wife, Jeanette.  The centerpiece of brunch was a three foot tall bottle of wine with a neato curly-que neck.  It’s fun to watch the wine trickle through the bottle, perhaps more fun to watch people try to figure out how to pour with a 3 foot bottle. 
    I made what I feel like was an important decision in my life today.  I’m never going to be the person at a party who monopolizes conversations about cheese.  I don’t care how good (gouda) it is, that’s a boring damn conversation.  In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever mention cheese at a party again, unless it’s to say "Quit talking about cheese, you cheesedick," or "Pardon me, I’m going to put cheese whiz on your breasts now."   (Note: if you see me actually trying to put cheese whiz on someone’s breasts at a party, please escort me home.  It means I’m severely intoxicated, probably from drinking too much while people talk about cheese, and I’m either about to get decked, or create an awkward situation that I’ll later regret.)
    For some involved, the morning brunch devolved into an afternoon of drinking and creating silly games of ping-pong, minus the table.  (I readily concede that I was guilty of air-pong, but I did not imbibe.  I’ve got too much work to do, dammit!)  Perhaps the highlight of the day was Jeanette’s fried banana creation: bananas dipped in honey and fried in butter, then topped with a greek liquor that bears a strong resemblance to cognac.  The bananas are then lit on fire (after several failed attempts), which burns for several seconds — get this — invisibly.  Spooky stuff.  Follow this recipe at your own risk.

In the 1970’s, a group of teenage surfers from Venice, CA pioneered in new style of skateboarding, thanks to a technologoical windfall: polyurethane wheels.  The new wheels allowed the skaters to grip walls and execute quicker turns.  Add surfstyle skaters with plenty of time on their hands, and you’ve got the birth of extreme skateboarding.  This movie chronicles the rise of the sport while dramatizing the crumbling friendships of the major players: Stacy Peralta, Jay Adams, Tony Alva, and the man who put together the Z-Boys skate team, Skip Albom.  Note that the movie was written by Peralta, who portrays his own character as the innocent of the group.

If you’re looking for a good summer movie, you could do worse.  The storyline starts out strong, but stumbles into a few cliches as the movie progresses: we’ve all seen what happens once the band makes it, and this movie has little news to offer in that department.  The movie aims for a gritty, edgy style, but some of the content is so Hollywood that I imagine a few viewers will find themselves rolling their eyes after so many random acts of vandalism, high fives, and a scene reminiscent of the Keystone Cops. 

In all fairness, it still manages to be a pretty good movie.  The soundtrack and cinematography work well together.  The camera work blends raw, documentary-style techniques with more traditional shots rather seamlessly, and the acting is much better than expected.  Emile Hirsch puts in a particularly strong performance as Jay, the emotionally damaged skater-cum-gangmember who refuses to sell out. 

The movie isn’t bad for what it is, but the twenty and thirty-something
audience may be left a little cold: we’re too young to feel nostalgia
for these guys, but too old to buy the attitude the movie tries to
sell. If you’re just interested in the history of skateboarding and what these guys were like, you’d probably do better to check out the documentary, also made by Peralta, Z-Boys and Dogtown (I haven’t seen it, but evidently it’s pretty good). 

So I’ve kind of been on a contemporary British Novel kick lately, been reading Martin Amis and Ian McEwan.  A couple of days ago I finished Enduring Love (McEwan), a novel that may have sold more copies if it didn’t have such an unfortunate title, though I must say that it’s a perfect fit for the book.  The book starts out with the main character and his wife having a romantic  picnic in a field, when suddenly a hot air balloon in distress attempts to land in the field behind them.  I don’t want to give away the story — it’s a little wacky, funny, smart, disturbing.  McEwan’s prose is first rate, and he pulls off a strong story that doesn’t feel overly contrived or gimicky.  This is recommended reading for anyone, but particularly Ward, who I think would appreciate McEwan’s obsession with science, which he weaves throughout the story.

Thanks, Luke, for turning me onto this.  Next up: Life of Pi, by Yann Martel.