Monday, October 1, 2007

Eastern Promises


directed by David Cronenberg
written by Steven Knight
UK, Canada, USA 2007


David Cronenberg's new film is most definitely not one to be messed with. Nikolai, played by an intense Viggo Mortensen, makes all attempts to hold true to an old school warrior's code of ethics, unflinchingly chopping fingers, stabbing enemies in the eyes, and selling out friends and family in the name of masculine domination of the hierarchy. His vertical mobility within the establishment, in the face of some tough decisions, is an almost perfect representation of Western values today. So many references to the KGB (one of the most badass real-life organizations in the history of societal regulation) as weak and worthy of scoff and scorn could only be seen as a major slight, and likewise a major assertion that for all those years behind the iron curtain there was an even more badass masculinity in charge - the mob.

The Russian mob, though virtuous in all the ways that make Western Capitalism such a potent and patriarchal sovereignty, apparently still embodies some of the mystique of the more spiritual hemisphere. This is a mere side note in Cronenberg's film, albeit an interesting one. The violent and self-gratifying value system adopted by a willing Nikolai, in the name of a more traditionally noble cause, is a much more powerful statement.

Not only is sexual dominance at the forefront of this excellent and thrilling story, but the phenomenon of sexual attraction can't help but surface. The violence in this film is pornographic in nature, as in much of Cronenberg's work, but Nikolai's sexiness lies in his domination of his environment, both physically and socially. Vincent Cassel's Kirill can't keep his hands off the guy, automatically responding to manipulation and force with acquiesence and devotion. The entire tradition of homophobia within this organization points directly to sexual politics and confused attractions. In Kirill's mixed-up world, he's not sure whether to respond to an alpha male with resistance or acceptance. If we're supposed to love a bad boy, how do we take it when he makes to destroy us?

It's the feminine world that balances this argument. Naomi Watts' Anna Ivanova refuses to love the badass Nikolai, and even to the end, she never learns the truth about the man. This doesn't matter. It's not about facts with sexual attraction, it's about attraction itself. The nice guy was in there, and in a healthy display of sexual preference, Anna refused to succomb to that sexy violence. Male domination has existed forever, but female judgment has consistently kept it in check.

NYC Public Schools on the Up and Up

Frank

So NYC just cashed in on the ED train in 2007.  Big money and big brains, or so it goes for the Big Apple these days in the elementary schools.  That's right, I'm talking about the Broad Prize, that hefty one million dollar award that ex-real estate mogul, Eli Broad, and his wife so generously pump into ameliorating urban public schools every year. It has finally been awarded to NYC!!!!  Good job Giuliani on making NYC safer for white people; the rich Manhattanites made their exodus onto 7th in Brooklyn safely, and now public education is soaring, that is after lowering the bench a little, too......... NYC's public schools are doing better!  The Broad Prize is an ostensible act of philanthropy  and is tantamount to Mr. Broad's chum, Bill Gates, and his generosity of pushing the envelope for smaller schools.  These two entrepreneurs should troubleshoot together for yet some more educational policy reform.  In fact they do!  They're pooling millions of dollars together to make their dream come true while simultaneously granting children's wishes for better proficiency in militaristic testing.  Let's gaze with wonder as these two venerating think-tanks work their magic of marginalizing the minds of youth, work towards privatizing the public schools, and flaunt millions of their hard earned tax cuts as they undermine the rest of us.  Oh yeah, they also got in touch with (paid) Kanye West to give a shout-out, it was as follows:  "Kids should go to school." ........... no seriously, he said that, what a fuckin' guy 'eh?

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Addressed to "The Times Argus" of Central Vermont

Frank

Following the occupation in Iraq a patriotism, obstinate in display, has blossomed in the U.S. I cringe at the playground diplomacy, the rhetoric spawned from the accretion of aggression, and opinions lack luster in reasoning and dense with irrational cogitation. I have crossed my fingers that these acts don't reflect upon me by default but now I have to speak, partly consequent of a Barre denizen who wrote in to express his opinion(s) of "dealing" with Iran. It was a puerile piece thick with anger and lacking facts.

Let us not forget that shortly after the events that took place on 9/11 Iranians congregated by the masses to hold a candlelight vigil for those who perished in the attacks. This gesture was quickly befogged weeks later after George W. Bush included the nation of Iran in his "Axis of Evil", an epithet for terrorist nations. It was then that Ahmadinejad began to mirror our very own president's ethics in foreign policy, albeit directed elsewhere, i.e., Israel, Syria, Lebanon, etc., and has evolved since. There are many topics up for debate pertaining to Iran, but straying from diplomacy and resorting to unilateral action is, in toto, an ill-advised decision that violates Geneva laws. Mandates aside, I believe it defies the canons of good behavior to air opinions aggressively and blindly.

We must recall that our shaping of the Middle-East for the past 60 years has resulted in a regional unrest directly contributing to an upshot in social/cultural disparity here and abroad, violent and non.

It was our interest in Iran that brought us to Iraq. In fact, Saddam was a beneficiary of U.S. funding and arms during the Iraq/Iran war, given permission and guidance to invade Iran. It wasn't until Saddam meddled with our own interests in the region that we turned our back on him and his regime. And have we forgotten that we were a sponsor of Saddam's war upon the Shiite population within his own country? Possibly in fear of Iran, being primarily Shiite, influencing Iraq's population and counter-insurgency - protecting its regional interests from hegemony? As for Israel, do people not know of Israeli-run torture chambers in Lebanon, that roughly 800 Palestinians are arrested and tortured by Israeli soldiers every year (according to Amnesty International), that their military power is the world's 3rd largest - a result of prime weapons deals from the U.S.? Or that there has been and is tremendous disparity in economic and military aid from the U.S. between Israel and the rest of the world when there surely has been other pressing humanitarian crises, i.e., Rwanda, Darfur, Congo, Timor, Bosnia, the list goes on and yet I'm sure I could find direct correlation between most humanitarian crises throughout the world and U.S. foreign policy. To sum it all up, occupying Iran is control over the Caspian Sea - control of the oil fields in the Middle East. Wilsonian ideology helped to point this out. There is no war on Islamic fundamentalism just fear and propaganda. If it were so, why aren't we flexing the same muscle towards Saudi Arabia, they're the most extreme Islamic state in the world? I'm sure it has to do with foreign oil investments. We are strategically protecting our assets and attempting to broaden them at the same time. Iran has a nuclear program. So do we, so does Russia, so does Israel, so do a lot of countries. Israel is as much of an aggressive threat as Iran is to the global economy and the Middle East, and let me point out that there are roughly 25,000 Jewish citizens in Iran that have claimed to be happy where they live (according to israelnn.com Iran has begun erecting a $3.2 million cultural center for the Jewish community in Tehran). Digression aside, nuclear proliferation needs to be subdued globally and not exclusively.

The foreign policy paradigm that our leaders have sworn by for decades does not work. It creates a cultural rift that could be a cultural bond. In Tom Wessels recent book "The Myth of Progress" he addresses in the beginning chapter that we need to re-evaluate our methods and paradigms, that the current ones are not sustainable to abide by. Like Wessels, I concur that paradigms work hand in hand, that is, foreign policy affects the economy which affects the environment and so forth. As a student seeking knowledge to help curb and redirect the current path of economic growth and promote the proliferation of the humanities I believe we need to transcend aggression and anger and ameliorate diplomacy. As we can see, anger accretes into atrocity. We lost thousands on 9/11 and by reacting through aggression that number of civilian casualties is reported monthly now in Iraq; do we really want to increase death by pursuing more conflict, subversive or not? In my opinion aggression is attributed to high levels of testosterone. According to a finding reported in the September 2007 edition of Harper's Magazine, "Men with high testosterone levels tend to be irrational negotiators."

Addressed to Central Vermont's "The World" Publication

Frank

I am writing in regard to the film-review column 'Max's View'. I want to politely state that I am not at all impressed with these puerile critiques of the visual medium; to declare bluntly, I have had enough of this finesse-lacking rubbish that is so easily pawned off to the World newspaper as worthy cinema reviews. I apologize for my harshness and repudiation but it is only consequent of the misinformation given and implied through 'Max's View'. Allow me to expatiate upon this opinion and perhaps kindle a dollop of inspiration and influence onto 'Max's' writing along the way. In the very least, perhaps he can learn a few new vocabulary words. And to the reader, I assure you I use only strong, hard-lined, evidence-based facts when writing an op-ed piece, unless however, I openly certify it a fallacy.

In Vol. 56 No. 15, 'Max's View' assesses the film "Sunshine", directed by briton Danny Boyle. The piece is filled with recycled comparisons, adages, and interpretations from the many film critics alike, appended is a rating of three stars (personally I would have awarded it two at the very most), and for the most part I agree with the critic in that the last fifteen minutes features that of a B-movie tingeing upon the public's thirst for violent pornagraphia shot with a shaky D.V. camera creating what I deem a photo montage translated through video! Motion picture aside, I am writing about the one original excerpt from this review and that is the tangent the writer chooses to open with - that the threat of global warming is only according to some environmentalists - and he goes on to contest this "wild theory" of "global warming" by stating: "Like most Americans, I have no desire to cut back on my driving or energy use in order to stave off some vague crisis that may occur generations down the road." Foremost, allow me to say that global warming is an imminent and real threat, it exists, and scientists - not just environmentalists - from around the globe will concur (except for the panel of scientists hired out through ExxonMobile to undermine supporting evidence and factual proof, i.e., data, charts, statistics, etc a while back when they launched a campaign of disinformation about climate change). But I don't need to chime what we already have and/or should have heard and learned, instead I would also like to address my lamentations over the review of Michael Moore's shockumentary, "Sicko" where the writer implored for Michael Moore to back off! and stop degrading America and start recognizing our nation for her worldly influence, that if it wasn't for our advancing intellect and innovative nature the rest of the world would be impoverished, left behind to deal with disease and medicine on a sub-prime level not equivalent to the ground breaking ingenuity we Americans have set as precedent in medicine, health care, and the whole agglomerate of sciences alike. Or at least I believe that was the implication meant to be conveyed to the reader. So I will keep this short and simple. It is benighted for any one individual to think and believe along/in the former and latter. Our nation ranks #36 from #1 in health care throughout the world, or so Michael Moore aptly pointed out, placing France and Italy within the top two slots. This could partly be on account of: All other major industrialized nations provide universal health coverage for their denizens; there is a large disparity in quality given to folks in different class brackets here in the U.S.; we have a large infant mortality rate; we rank low in nutrition, healthy-life expectancy, and according to an editorial in the N.Y. Times Aug. 12, 2007, we rank 15th among 19 countries in death from illnesses that would not have proven fatal if tended to effectively and in a timely manner; most of our health care infrastructure relies on paper records versus computers. This is all to name but a few.

Here are some brief updates of people and think-tanks NOT from the U.S. who are ameliorating the sciences and our lives: Prof. Amos Ori from Technion Israel Institute of Technology has made ground breaking advancements in theoretical sciences. He has devised a new model that poses a vacuum space consisting of positive density that will perhaps allow scientists to fabricate time-like curvatures in space so time travel can be a reality. In Geneva, Switzerland top scientists are constructing a particle accelerator where they will be forming miniature black holes to investigate string theory and study other theories surrounding dark matter and dark energy. The Max Planck Institute for Bio-Physical Chemistry in Gottingen, Germany leads the way in optical 3D far-field microscopy with nanoscale resolution - *this could be of important use in pathology and medicine perhaps. By the way, feel free to explore more where I retrieved this information at www.physorg.com
It is also astonishing to discover, when educating oneself in alternative waste disposal, the practice of anaerobic digestion in areas of Japan and Europe. Anaerobic digestion is a process that decomposes waste through anaerobic decomposition, in layman's terms - bacterial compost - in which bacteria feeds on the waste and in return emits methane - an alternative source of energy. This could perhaps settle the land fill debate in Williston, VT if practiced here.

In the June 2007 issue of Harpers magazine, Harpers Findings reports that researchers predict net moisture levels in the south western U.S. to drop 15% in the coming years resulting in severe drought due to global warming; scientists in Germany discovered that warmer oceans could cause the Earth to spin faster; that magnolias are near obsolete because of habitat destruction; and overfishing has led to the collapse of the shell fish industry. Max, if that's your real name, why do you insist on not cutting back on energy? This gluttonous act so many are guilty of seems almost to be in spite of the progressive intelligentsia and why? Our nation is trailing behind in health care, education, nutrition, environmental policy, and even diplomacy! to name a few, but we're doing pretty well with private enterprise, class disparity, and infrastructure collapse, all so uniform to ancient Rome's final days. If there's one thing that I've learned from watching film, it's that the world is a small place full of large ideas from all walks of life. You may be surprised to hear that I am but a month older than the age of 25 years and may wonder how, why, and where did I collect the wit, courage, facts, knowledge, etc. to provoke this literary debate? Well Max, I spent the better part of my cognitive years learning what the world has to teach and I would never give up my foreign relations or admiration of what another country has to share with me for a sense of patriotic pride. I leave you with this last tip to help aid your future opinions and critiques:

The opinion is a prolific force of nature, of mind, and of the individual. It is something we hold so dear and cherish, but yet we are so quick to toss it out amongst each other, to our neighbors, our students, our families and friends, our enemies and foes, our press and forums, etc. Each and every one of us yens to share an opinion and to influence. I just ask that before we decide to voice our own opinions, we soak up all the education we can and gather facts - misinformation is not only vexing but dangerous.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

3:10 to Yuma

Watching Christian Bale stuck in a Hollywood-blocked character that literally could have been played by an actual, sticks-and-straw scarecrow with an attached hidden speaker pouring out some of the grittier dialogue pieces of Little House on the Prairie is not something I'm particularly interested in doing. Sitting through a Russell Crowe image vehicle, desperately waiting--eventually in vain--for a character of his to finally be killed off is similiarly disheartening. Allowing myself to fall victim to a cultural trend of Western-philia, a strange phenomenon that occasionally rears its head at unexpected moments, is downright confusing.

3:10 makes about as much sense plot-wise as the better half of the Bruce Willis catalogue, and falls on the moral spectrum somewhere between Forrest Gump and The Wizard of Oz. The central villain is Ben Foster's Charlie Prince, whose qualities include loyalty, intelligence, resourcefulness, and gratitude. Apparently, his downfall lies in camera angle, the intensity of his stare, and an ominous orchestral phrasing during his scenes. The hero is Bale's Dan Evans, an ineffective and dull Arizona rancher whose moral decisions are based on lawbooks written and enforced by his worst enemies--rich railroad men. Russell Crowe's charmingly ridiculous Ben Wade tap-dances his way across both sides of these moral questions and in the end is rewarded for selling out on the "loyalty among thieves" credo, arguably one of the most important story elements brought to us by the Western.

Treated with a higher degree of intelligence (or perhaps artistic freedom, since we're dealing with a Hollywood blockbuster-wannabee here), this script could have brought down the house in today's world of rich-poor exploitation, pornographic violence in media, and the masculine struggle, but instead the film is nothing more than lifted clichés and poorly-aimed gunshots.

Friday, August 31, 2007

Switzerland Follows Suit; Files Suit

Associated Press

Thursday morning's response by the Swiss government to an American lawsuit bucks a trend nearly two centuries in the making. Johnson and Johnson, one of the United States' most enduring mega-corporations and friend to smooth-skinned babies all over the world, has filed suit against the American Red Cross for gross violation of a longstanding trademark agreement. Both organizations use a red symbol of a cross on products and official stationary, and for years have abided peacefully according to an 1895 writ.

"Our official statement?" remarks Gerthe Feiner, a spokesman for the 12-member Swiss government, "Fuck the both of them. We're going for the jugular." The position is a remarkable contrast to the longstanding trend of Swiss neutrality. "For years," states Feiner, "We've been international pawns, known only vaguely throughout the world for cheese and various chocolate products, perhaps a watch here and there." Switzerland has filed an international damages case against Johnson and Johnson, the American Red Cross, and even the United States government itself, citing from such monumental establishments as the Geneva Convention and the Lanham Act.

Switzerland's national flag is a white cross symbol on a red background. American response has been one of mild indifference. Columbia Professor Michael Dorf published in his Dorf on Law blog it's unlikely that "...the disqualification for national flags contains an implicit corollary applicable to dyslexics."

Feiner's response? "We smell cash, we're going after it. The Center for Consumer Research (CCR) estimates Johnson and Johnson's earnings since 1895 [the first year the symbol was used] to be a little over 10 trillion dollars." According to CCR statistics, over the same period of time the American Red Cross profit is estimated to be about zero. Says Feiner, "Either way you slice it, 10 trillion could still buy a lot of schnitzel."

Switzerland has pledged to see the case through until the end, and has even threatened deploying an appropriately-armed Swiss Army should the need arise. The purpose would be, presumably, to demonstrate the use of the cross symbol on the base of the knives.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

The State of Education in Burlington

Mike

In 2006, the Burlington, VT school district commissioned a task force made up of community members (administrators, teachers, and citizens) to investigate the widening achievement gap in Burlington's city public schools. Burlington is a microcosm for the education problems happening throughout the country. The Task Force's findings are summarized here.

Since the resolutions were made public last fall, there has been major opposition to socio-economically integrating the city schools. Here is my response.



A year ago the immigration question was the hot topic of debate. “They take the jobs the rest of us don’t want,” or so the maxim went. In this country, though it’s rarely acknowledged, there’s an accepted faith in the reliability of our poverty-level workers, American citizens or not. They clean our hotel rooms, pump our gas, and pave our highways. Our economy is based on their invisible strength, and their unsung devotion to the most basic of job skills. It’s also based, though, on growth, and it is to their children, that rich and worldly cache of diverse cultural knowledge, that we look for the future. It is the American children of our legions of poverty-level workers on whom we will one day lean for economic stability. There are countless reasons why people are forced into wage slavery, sub-blue collar work, and even unemployment. The lack of quality education is a factor, but it doesn’t have to be a requirement.

It’s been said it takes a village to raise a child. The idea has never been more pertinent. Raising a child raises the village itself, because a community is a living, self-supplying thing, and its most valuable resource is that which it seems to take most for granted, and keeps most repressed. Educated children, especially at the poverty level where they are most neglected, mean a higher community wealth in the future. By increasing the quality of education for every single child in our community, thereby enriching our labor pool, the very basic charge and aim of the Burlington Task Force, we’ll notice a vast difference. Business owners will see increases in the productivity of their workers. Doctors will see increases in the health of their patients’ families. Financiers will see increases in the community markets. Better education for all isn’t a Utopian ideal, it’s an essential part of our growth economy.

Recently a friend’s 4-year-old brother came up in a conversation. His play habits weren’t at all peculiar, he moved from toy to toy and from one activity to another like any child does, and learned many things through this diversity of attention. His social interactions, though, teach a far more valuable lesson because they play against commonly held assumptions. His friends, like his toys and his activities, varied in color, size, and caste. These interactions, along with the rest of his cognitive development, benefited from the diversity!

I went through the public school system in a higher income area, succeeded academically, and saw many others around me succeed. My schools regularly passed state and federal standards tests. My experience, though, supported a serious deficiency. Throughout school I knew only a handful of people who were Jewish, Black, Native, Hispanic, Gay, Refugee, or otherwise culturally diverse, and I suffered for it. Among the handful was a black friend of mine, the child of a single-parent home, who graduated top in our class, and went on to receive Phi Beta Kappa honors at Stanford University. He’s a professional now in the field of human resources. I visited him in California last year and learned an important lesson about the real value of diversity in this world. His girlfriend, the daughter of Chinese immigrants, was another high-powered professional. His daily phone conversations regarding the hiring of personnel ranged from midnight calls to India and China to meetings about an African branch. It struck me that the real world was far more culturally diverse than what I’d experienced in my quaint, “successful,” schools, and I see now how unprepared for it I was.

According to professionals, we identify culture in various ways, but the first level of recognition is through surface traits. The first thing we associate with a culture is what it looks, sounds, and tastes like. We see skin color, we hear language, and we taste foods. It’s a lack of depth that leads to stereotypes, labels, racism and classism. Only through deeper interaction do we start to associate more complex levels of cultural identity, such as behavior, community values, and morality. As the son of a Task Force member put it very nicely in his college essay: “You can learn something from anyone.”
In today’s world, low-income communities produce thriving internet businesses, African interests represent seats on the boards of American companies, Indian workers dominate jobs in the technology sector, and Chinese markets hold an integral stake in our daily lives. Learning the “three R’s” isn’t enough anymore. Our children’s futures don’t depend on Bilinguality. They depend on Biculturality. Burlington has the resources right here in the diversity of our communities. Integrate the schools and we all benefit. Just like the refugee parents of our Somali Bantu students learn English from their children, our business owners will learn about productivity from their workers. Like the single mothers in our poorer communities learn to quit smoking and pay more attention to nutrition, our doctors will learn from their increasingly healthier patients. Like our minority populations succeeding economically where their historically repressed parents were never given a square deal, our financiers will learn from the new economic feedback in the community. We’ve got to learn how to grow, and we’ve got to learn in order to grow.

Traditionally, the public school systems seem to have worked well in keeping communities thriving. My school had a high success rate, and my community reflects it. Times have changed, though. This country is in the waning days of an industrial revolution. The last decade produced an amazing period of economic growth, but it’s slowing. Globally, though, the revolution is just getting started. Smaller economic powers (though no less important) are catching up and becoming players in the global economy. Countries such as China, India, Russia, and the Middle East are filling industrial niches, and our undereducated workers can’t keep up. There are many reasons why the American blue-collar population is disappearing in favor of an outsourced labor force. The deficiency in quality education is a huge one. Comfortable middle class citizens in Burlington may not realize the change that’s happening. If it ain’t broke, why fix it? Well, the country’s not breaking, but it’s certainly dividing. Burlington doesn’t have many of the problems apparent in rich/poor communities like Long Island, Hartford, and East St. Louis, but we’re not far off. Business owners will see a decline in the productivity of their workers. Doctors will see a decline in the health of their patients’ families. Financiers will see a decline in community investment. If we don’t keep up a long tradition of progressive thinking, and take steps toward integration, then the future will most definitely see us in a similar shape to any one of those communities.

Opposition groups have tabled the initiatives proposed by the Task Force to integrate our schools. It’s obvious something needs to be done, though. In the name of social justice, our community needs to provide a model to the rest of the country that minority groups can be given an equal chance to succeed. Unless you’re an outright racist, you cannot for one second believe that students of color inherently achieve less than white students, as the statistics represent. Unless you’re an outright racist, you must agree that there is a systemic problem. There are many assumptions about the quality of family support in low-income and high-minority areas. Parents in these communities don’t care enough about their children’s education? Here’s a better assumption: For every parent out there that doesn’t care, there’s another that cares desperately, and is mutely crying out for a fair chance to help his or her child. Parents in low-income and high-minority communities don’t care about their children’s education? If the well-to-do families in Burlington don’t take into consideration the Task Force’s findings and recommendations, then obviously they don’t care about those children’s education either.

In 2006, two Burlington-area schools failed to meet adequate yearly progress standards for the fourth year in a row. Edmunds Middle School and Milton Elementary School include populations of the lowest income and highest minority students. They’ve been put on corrective action status and with our two Old North End elementary schools not far behind, it’s clear what the future has in store for our labor population. Now is the time for action. The Task Force has done the work, and now it’s up to the rest of the community to accept the charge. Not only will our business owners find they have better workers, our doctors see health increases in their patients’ families, and our financiers see a more valuable community market, their children will also gain an immeasurably rich social education, and be fully prepared to enter the vastly diverse “real world.” We need to throw off the stereotypes, erase the assumptions, and begin to strengthen our community from the bottom up. In order to do this, though, it’ll require some support from the top down.

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

Dairy Queen; Dairy Tyranny

Frank

Senator Patrick Leahy recently held a hearing of the Senate Agriculture Committee to address the fact that national policy overlooks small farms. The sad thing is: NO MEMBERS OF THE COMMITTEE SHOWED!!!! Except for Leahy himself of course. Luckily some heroes do exist - Senator Bernie Sanders and Congressman Peter Welch joined up to show some muscle on the issue and listen to comments as well. The problem is farmers need more and perhaps better federal aid if the government wishes to have a stronghold on the farm community big or small, whether it be Vermont or any other state for that matter.

Milk does a body good, got milk? Sound familiar? Those are a couple crafty slogans wittily thought up by some smart-ass genius with a milk mustache sold to corporate dairy that can afford to have perhaps even a gang of milk-mustachioed knaves brain-storming around the clock obsolete catch phrases to help push gallons upon gallons of the pearly white cookie partner. And yet the poor proletariat of the good 'ol VT farm community is having a hard enough time staying open for business let alone expand their marketing campaigns. It's no big secret (or scheme for that matter) that national policy favors big business and Vermont dairy farms take it in the "you know where" causing them to go under. The Farm Bill, which is updated every five years, is what spearheads federal policy on commodity farming, nutrition programs, rural development, logging, and conservation. This policy is also what controls the price that is paid to farmers for their product but does not in any way control their costs for feed, energy, and supplies to maintain their farms. With inflation and government control on milk "royalties" it doesn't take a genius to figure out why it becomes difficult for a small farm to stay alive in todays 'cow eat cow' dairy market. This poses a grave threat my friends, if local farms begin to sink then cooperatives as well will lose business and in the end the market will be dominated by a few feeding the many which......well......I think we witnessed the damage done earlier when a strand of e.coli made its way into a spinach farm and soon packed its bags for a cross-country trip. See what I'm getting at? It's important to eat local and it's important to support our local farmers.

Saturday, March 31, 2007

Rappin Rove



"He can't be beat/ Cause he's so white from his head to his feet."

This thing is just full of excruciating truths. Don't let this stunt fool anyone. Not only is Karl Rove one of the most evil bastards in the world, he's also one of the most cunning. The evil empire has taken to humility as of late in a scheme to make light of the last seven years of sin. George makes a joke about writing a "pop-up" book about his presidency, Rove dances like a complete ninny. An utterly despicable, vengeful, and stone-hearted ninny.

It's like the bigger kids on the playground laughing at each others' cruelty after they break your toy. Maybe if they make enough self-aware cracks at themselves, then history will be a little more lenient.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Vermont to Impeach Cheney; Bush Will Follow

Here's an op-ed from the not-so-far left by Frank...

Tuesday March 6th, Vermont celebrated its annual Town Meeting Day in which communities from all over the state assembled to vote on current issues including town budget proposals, ballot holders, office seekers, education etc. etc......I would love more than anything to delve into public concern over state property taxes and education but, well, that is not what this blog is about.....sorry.  Instead, I will digress a bit and rant about a subject that has captured my attention completely and convey my opinions and concerns in a manner so blunt and obnoxious I'm sure it will only be a matter of time before hate-mail finds its way en route to my humble abode. 

Along with the many articles that arose on Town Meeting Day, one that tickled my fancy was the Bush/Cheney nonbinding impeachment measure.  This was brought up under "other business" and began a wide panel of debate and dispute throughout the state - not really; in fact thirty six towns voted in favor of the movement and only eleven put off a vote on it, a tally in East Montpelier looked a bit like this: 123-27, pro-impeachment! Clarendon, another Vermont town voted 19-17 to reject the impeachment measure- man that says a lot!  Of course there had to be a Devil's Advocate who's opposing stance to the idea had to have a stronger foothold and Enosburg (home to a many proud National Guardsmen) played just the part.  An outspoken denizen of the quaint VT village, located smugly north of the Queen City east of the great Champlain, stated "......it had nothing to do with town business......" in which afterwards he was shown much gratification from a local soldier who was wounded in battle and had his limbs sutured back on with rubber bands, he is now a covert operative working to undermine the terrorist cell COBRA - not really.   Vermont, I'm routing for ya! I really am..... as a state that highly influenced the election of Thomas Jefferson which resulted in rescuing a country from totalitarian tendencies (portrayed in the Sedition Act of 1797) and weighing in the heaviest out of all states, casting the largest percentage of votes for Mr. Abe Lincoln, I believe our voice counts in times like these - so let us be heard!

It is apparent that President George W. Bush and Vice President Cheney have been taking a major loss lately in the approval polls, but really, is it much of a surprise?  As ring leaders (or perhaps I should say jesters - I just can't decide) of  the current administration they have been fumbling their way through their terms.  Lately we have witnessed yet another portrayal of misdirected guidance in which brings me to another issue that ties into the latter.  I. Lewis Libby Jr. a.k.a. "Scooter", Cheney's former Chief of Staff has been found guilty of perjury and obstruction of justice.  Scoot you really dun it now!   You should've known lyin' and submitting false information would land you a year in the crowbar-hotel, oooops am I being a bit facetious here?  Probably not, I mean c'mon, do you really think he's gonna have to do all twenty five years?  And now there's a talk about a pardon!  Mr. Bush has no comment pertaining to all of this except for ".....I was sad, I was sad for a man who had worked in my administration, and particularly sad for his family."   Boo-fuckin-hoo, hey you appointed him my man.  In fact if you surf on over to Scooter Libby.com you'll find a nice little cache of concerns and condolences backing a pardon for poor 'ol Scoot, including a fundraiser that the Times Argus reports it already has raised $4 million+  for the old man.  Scoot, why don't you help out Cheney with some of his hospital fees with that chunk of change?  Rumor has it the fat slob ain't eatin' so healthy these days and he's had enough heart attacks to rival a bevy of elderly war vets attending the screening of Saving Private Ryan.  Anyway, what's really going on here?  Scooter are you the "fall-guy"?  Can we put Cheney on trial yet?  And what about poor Valerie Wilson?  Well she'll be packing her bags and moving to New Mexico and then hopefully "Fair Game" will sell millions of copies, i mean it's got to - Warner Brothers just bought the movie rights.  I can't wait for the casting to begin, I just hope they dig up Dana Carvey to play Dubbya.

Well as they say, "time is of the essence", and it is about that time I tactfully wrap this up.  It is no wonder that approval ratings are down, it is no wonder that certain sentiments throughout the world are the way they are these days;  could it be because more disgruntled Iraqi refugees have migrated to our shores?  Probably not.  Since the Iraq War almost four million people have been displaced from their homes and two million have left the country.  An article in Time Magazine reports the U.S. taking in only 18 Iraqi refugees in 2005 and only 202 in 2006.......out of four million that no longer have a place called home since we initiated this fiasco.  Vermont, don't be afraid to voice your opinions in the manner you had on Town Meeting Day, I would say there is substantial reason to express such sentiments so let us express and be heard.
-Frank

Saturday, March 3, 2007

Stranger Than Fiction

Will Ferrell's dramatic abilities are not exactly impressive. Despite a general critical attitude of mild acceptance of the inevitable fact that the actor can pull off a character that doesn't fit into the SNL worldview (one which Ferrell has arguably been integral in creating), essentially the performance was not the breakthrough some may have imagined. Ferrell's Harold Crick was seething on the verge of a breakdown from the start, and not intentionally. Those beady eyes of his, like a shark's, scanning the murkiness around him, ready to attack any and every comic opportunity, in the end gave him away. Ferrell didn't leave his improvisational genius at the arthouse doorstep on this one, nearly cracking after each successive straightman (honestly, isn't everyone a straightman when appearing with Will Ferrell?) offered up a tasty bit of comic set-up, only to cringe as his line-reading super-ego kicked in. "Talladega Nights" was sillier, stupider, and a lot easier to digest, but man, did it have a vitality and energy that Stranger Than Fiction could never rival. Only one scene breathed with any kind of life. Harold and Ana sit in the bus while the camera follows, um, actually it was hard to tell because the hinge in the big, two-part city bus keeps doing its thing. Eyelines are skewed, the camera gets confused, and it's as if Fellini stopped in as guest director for the afternoon. It's really fun.

Ana, as a character, is the worst kind of scriptwriting shortcut. Boy meets girl, boy must get over individual problem to get girl, boy gets girl. I don't want to call it insensitivity, but I wouldn't want to be a woman watching this film. She isn't even given a chance to decide whether she likes him. It's written in. If, as most of its champions will argue, the essence of the film is the simple love story, then it's a pretty one-sided story. The story is about Harold Crick, and all the other characters, including Ana, are foils, incapable of individuality. Perhaps director Marc Forster's take on contemporary fiction is exactly this. Sometimes singularity must be re-examined in the name of a more complex, humanistic story.

I think that's what left me wanting more from Stranger Than Fiction. The love story left me unsatisfied, it just felt a little too easy, and the concept of the story within the story didn't really point any fingers or take any particular stance. I can really only speculate as to Forster's take on fiction as a theme.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Little Miss Sunshine Was Stupid

This was a boring short-cut of a movie that front-loaded its story with a few nasty issues, dicked around for the entire second act with only one good scene where Steve Carell's Frank gets spotted buying porno magazines, and by the finale, completely blew apart any kind of intelligent resolutions that could have been made. Meanwhile this family unfairly has every bit of script-trickery bad luck thrown at them. The kid finds out he's color blind or something and can't get into the army (Oh kid, your dreams are shot down? That happens all the time, to every kid, once a week. I remember a particular Jimmy Page and Robert Plant reunion my dad wouldn't let me go to when I was 13. Devastating). How does this justify an ending? All other issues are left untouched other than to insinuate that wallowing in your own misery is somehow essential in life. Another determinist piece of garbage that's only bringing us down as humans.

But I had to say something, because the asshole responsible for this thing just won an Oscar. But here's proof that these people need to get out of Hollywood before the whole place implodes on itself. This was said of the writer's nomination:

"To write this script, Michael Arndt [Little Miss Sunshine] had to quit his job as personal assistant to Matthew Broderick."

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Sunday, February 18, 2007

And I thought MY language was questionable...

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/18/books/18newb.html

Friday, February 16, 2007

History Doesn't Repeat Itself, But It Rhymes...

Despite a question as to the extent of the actual Iranian involvement in the arming of insurgent forces in Iraq, the executive branch has made a proclamation, and his word stands. Executive power now rests not only in administrative and military affairs, but in foreign relations as well. As it should. Doesn't it make sense that the word of one man should hold that much power? Why should UN investigations, Iranian justification, or diplomatic proceedings have any bearing here?

Two things get me about this issue. For one, the executive branch is on the verge of igniting another conflict that may have even less to do with the War on Terror. There's a War on something, obviously. We're like a kid at recess saying, "Alright, I know you guys are playing a joke, just tell me what it is." For two, try this one on. Questionable Arms Sales, Foreign Insurgencies, Iran. Weird, I know.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Old Fuckers

14sex.xlarge1

"By the time Ms. Binford got around to describing a safe sexual act involving Saran Wrap, a woman shouted, 'Enough, already!'"

amazing

-mike

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Some Kid's Dictionary

Brain

I thought this was a good image to ponder. -Mike

Monday, February 12, 2007

New Contributors!! See, it's not so hard...

Greetings From Down The Hall! 


Oh, hi there! My name is Tom, but around here they call me Tommy Dynamite! Actually no, they don't, but that would totally be my wrestling moniker. Anyway, here's the deal, i've had this idea in my head for a while that i've wanted to start a blog...Mike beat me to this idea. Now i'm certainly not going to copy my dear friend/roommate Mike here and start my own, so i figure I could just be a regular contributor. This is only if permisson is granted of course but i'm quite charming so how can he resist :) You'll have to cut me some slack here at first. My writing the past few years has mostly consisted of structureless lyrics and half-assed (yet A worthy!) community college papers. What you can expect is my take on the sports, music, politics, movies, tv shows, pop culture etc. Don't take anything too seriously though. I'll try and keep things rather lighthearted which is probably a good thing considering how uptight and pretentious movie reviewers can be (kidding Mike!). Talk soon! 



Thoughts by Tom.

Like most of the world I was deeply saddened to hear the news of the passing of Anna Nicole Smith. Not because of her death of course, but for the fact that the death of this dumb, vapid, and worthless faux celebrity has seemingly "captured the nation", as they say. Actually, I can't just get mad at America, there are a few other nations (i'm looking at you Britain) who are just as at fault. In fact, a German t.v. station reportedly spent over 500,000 dollars just for poorly shot footage, from about a mile away, of paramedics attempting to resuscitate this fat bitch. I guess i'm not suprised at all the attention this is getting but it's still frustrating to see this garbage get so much coverage, especially considering our country's current state of affairs. This is one of those things where I could just go on and on but then I suppose I would be just as guilty as those i'm ranting about. There really are more important matters to worry myself about anyway,  like who i'm gonna vote for 600 plus days from now.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

I've been busy recording with the band, but here's a little story that I was thinking about...


A New Treasure.

In the early days of the phonograph, before the turn of the century and after Prussia was no longer a kingdom, there was a rich young Duke in a place called Brandenburg. His recent acquisition of a beautiful Italian bride was overshadowed in his eyes only by the acquisition of an American phonograph. It was a prototype, and had travelled a long distance to its present place in the Duke's drawing room. His bride was named Mariella, and had travelled a long distance from a tiny town in southern Italy called Matera. Her ambivalence toward the phonograph could only be overshadowed by her ambivalence toward her new husband.

The Duke's inability to soften Mariella's heart became known throughout the province. His interest in the phonograph was passionate, though, and it became a part of his days. He recorded interviews with friends, family, servants, even Mariella, and it was as if his curiosity could never be satisfied. During an interview with his mother, she gently suggested he somehow use the phonograph to make his wife happy. The Duke decided to take his treasure to Matera, in order to bring back to the girl some piece of her beloved homeland. Upon reaching the small town, his entourage was forced to camp in a nearby pasture while the Duke looked for a guide. Pulling a cart-load of firewood on the outskirts of the village, the Duke found a girl who strangely resembled Mariella, and convinced her in halting Italian to help find a suitable interview subject. An elderly matriarch was found, and back in cold Brandenburg, upon hearing the scratchy recording, Mariella's tears had never fallen in such desperate sadness.

Friday, February 9, 2007

The Ghost in Apartment Three

I awoke to the stove making strange noises. I thought it was the refrigerator, but soon realized it was in fact the stove. When I plugged in my amp I noticed an awful buzzing noise at steady intervals, much like the stove, though I didn't make the connection until later. Before the repair shop I contemplated phoning an ex-lover who knows about electronics, but I decided against it. Some hours later I realized the connection. It seems I have a ghost.


It went like this:
Ghost in apt 3

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Thursday, February 8, 2007

Flags of our Fathers

Clint Eastwood's first draft of an attempted WWII revival nearly squirms in agony with every successive shell impact. A despondent Adam Beach plays private Ira Hayes, a man whose Native American origins, in the eyes of almost every character in the film, seem to justify the rejection of heroism and his consequently booze-soaked descent. If this project is Eastwood's take on Iraq, it's only fair to view private Hayes' struggle in parallel to that of today's minority soldiers. Eastwood's Republican leanings are quite public, as is his blunt hatred of colleague Michael Moore, but isn't he re-examining a point clearly made in 2004's Farenheit 9/11? The intangible cost of war is not only the ante of human life, but the inevitable isolation and exploitation of our lower classes. The three flag-raisers, in fact, represent each of the socio-economic echelons of American life respectively, and go on to represent the respective cost of war. i.e. The poor get poorer.

Whatever his take, a sobbing and impotent Hayes isn't much of a vehicle for commentary. Rather than drive home an all-too-important point, Eastwood drags us through the mire of weak-stomached melodrama in the face of an unspeakably terrible (and completely unrepresented) enemy. There are so many problems with this it makes me want to throw grenades. Since when is Clint Eastwood a pussy? "He was the best marine I ever knew..." says Hayes of Barry Pepper's Captain Strank. Perhaps it's because he was the only marine in the film that wasn't continually sobbing. Anyway... At least Eastwood's formal abilities shine through, despite some basic problems. He's created a balance between the physical challenge of going against a tenacious Japanese force, and going against an equally apathetic American public. It's a very interesting split, and although the heroes apparently don't get it (and do nothing if not complain about the latter struggle, one which in truth is perhaps the more important) it makes an interesting reminder to both sides of the political spectrum. Eastwood reminds us lefties that wars are perhaps a part of American life, but more importantly reminds Bush and Co. that once upon a time governments actually needed to drum up support for wars in order to finance them. Oh, how times have changed.

In spite of this informative balance, Eastwood's tale is still lacking. The American public has no voice, and the really interesting historical stuff never makes it to the surface. The story of American apathy toward WWII is actually pretty amazing. Likewise, we see nothing of the Japanese, and are left with only secondary accounts of their ferocity, creating demons in our imaginations and therefore pigeon-holing an entire ethnicity. Nice job, Clint.

Tuesday, February 6, 2007

Welcome!

Hi Everyone!

Welcome to my bold foray into the world of blogging. I'll be updating this site as much as possible with various pieces of brilliance, but for now I've archived some movie reviews taken from my Myspace blog, although I seem to have the order of them reversed.

My inital idea for this blog is that it's a space for me, where I can put some thoughts out for mass consumption, but also it's a place for you, my friends, to leave comments, tirades, and send your own reviews of just about anything and I'll put them up.

Enjoy.

The Devil and Daniel Johnston

The Devil and Daniel Johnston finally made it to Burlington and I finally saw it. Schizophrenic. Attention to detail. Spastically thrown together, but with an intense and intensely insightful knowledge and understanding of the surprisingly enormous heaps of existing material. I had no idea! Daniel J's tape-recorded voice notes are right on. I'd never imagined he had so much video and (amazing!) super 8 footage. Edited even. You can see the man come through.

I've seen Daniel J perform and I still had no idea. We said hello after the show and he said back: "Good luck." He said the same thing to Matt Groening at the end of the film. He must say it to everyone.

Watch for the insightful details on director Jeff Feuerzeig's part: The Metallica press photo (excellent), the contrast between the label bands and Daniel's painful "realness". Gibby Haynes in the dentist chair acting smug, Thurston Moore trying to talk Daniel down from manic schizophrenia. It just gets realer and realer. I love the shaky home movie footage that wears you down before you're hit with the slick, photo op jobs with the record execs and the hippest artists in the country. And the interviews are on color 35!! And there's loads of it!

It doesn't get more real than the redneck, sleeveless-T, motorcycle-ponytailed, Texas gallery owners describing Daniel's annual shows. Or the "Fuck Satan" T-shirt on the local Waller, Texas shredmeister. "Are you Daniel Johnston?" Are good artists crazy? When we've decided whether Daniel J is a good artist, we'll have our answer.

Wassup Rockers!

First things first, the Clint Eastwood thing is the best. Larry Clark must hate him. Anyway, Wassup Rockers actually de-labels a group that could only be described with common idiomatic phrases (South Central, Latino, Skater, Punks, etc.) And it still places those kids so correctly ("we're from the ghetto"). Oh yes, you are.

In Rockers, Clark has made Hollywood hand-held realism look like the cutting room floor at Troma. And the images! Tracking the kids while they skate, the fucked up teeth, the 14-yr-old packages. He's like the Herb Ritts of the docu-drama.

But here's the thing. The movie is a big romantic jaunt through the Hills. There's no element of Aristotelian tragedy as in Kassovitz's Hate. There's no referential/archetypal weight as in The Warriors. These kids are nothing more than what Larry Clark fancies them to be. "You could be a model, I'm just trying to help your career." At least he knows full well what he's doing, and is having as much of a blast doing it as we are watching it.

Built to Spill

I hadn't realized they were so jammy, and I guess in B,VT you can't expect, at a rock show 600-kid strong, not to catch a glimpse of the backwards-hat-frat-jam-dance. It was described to me as "like a seven-year-old," and I looked over and agreed completely. If you've never seen it, perhaps it's impossible to really get the humor of it, but it's there, bouncing, back to front, beer in hand, eyes squinted, emotion on the face, head rocking with the beat, mouth trying to lip sync the words but not really knowing them. (It's OK, I don't really know many BTS lyrics either, but as a side note it's great when you catch them, very poignant, clever, well-put. But I'll get to that in a minute). I'm doing the jam-dance right now, sitting at my kitchen table, trying to figure out really how to describe it in words. It's a culture thing.

The lyrics. Excellent. They opened up with "Goin' Against Your Mind" and as awesome as it was to watch him sing, the phrases are pretty cool. "Thought it was an alien/ Turned out to be just God." I downloaded another live version and it sounds like he says it differently.

So, Doug Martsch had this video projection with a slide show of the album art from "You in Reverse," and it was the most lo-fi operation you can picture. He's just got this flimsy stand (it looked like a music stand from high school concert band) and the thing keeps shaking when the bass gets loud. And it blipped a couple times when they really got into it, and toward the end of the song when they're really rocking out, it starts to fall and then the signal cuts out and the thing says "no signal" on the projection board as it's slowly sinking because the stand is shaking so much and as the song crescendoes and the stage lights are turning red and he's singing his fuckin heart out, the stupid thing just falls out of view and then it's just the band, playing rock music. It was mesmerizing, cathartic.

It happened a couple times. Doug and the other guitarist really wanted to get a political tape to play, but the sound was giving them trouble. Eventually, they figured it out and played it during the encore to a tired but loyal audience. It didn't say a lot, but it was there. And it was important for them. I say Bravo.

"This next song is dedicated to Hugo Chavez," said Martsch before playing the awesomest track from the newest album. It was awesome. His intentions are so noble. And he wasn't kidding about leaving during the last song. It's like a contest to see if they can outlast the audience. I just wish they played "Car."

Drawing Restraint 9

Matthew Barney's films stand apart from his sculpture and installation work because he's declaring that it actually happened. DR9 isn't a sculpture in cinematic form (as I had originally used the phrase as a foothold for interpretation), there's an actual narrative.

The romance is certainly reminiscent of Eraserhead. Instead of succumbing to the vile detritus surrounding them as in David Lynch's masterpiece, Barney's (real-life) lovers are forced into the inevitable extravagance. I've read a little about traditional Japanese tea ceremonies and they're very similar. It's like the entire film is modeled on the tea ceremony, ritualistic and human, only more visceral, guttural. Barney hasn't lost his attention to the body and its various needs and functions.

The two are methodically invited, transformed, bred, and excreted. And we watch the whole process from the root to the fruit. It all happens in the presence of the most exquisite and illegal substance in the world, ambergris (of Moby Dick fame). The life cycle of humans and animals. Humans thrive in the presence of the most magnificent of them all: The Whale. And we don't even see one.

A Prairie Home Companion

Robert Altman's latest was clunky and shambly (is this a word?). It doesn't really hold together as a film, but more of a showcase of the PHC juggernaut that is Garrison Kiellor's eternal legacy. His script is so self-serving, I was put off. First, there's no way Meryl Streep's Yolanda Johnson had her heart broken by GK of all people. That guy? I mean, yea, he can sing, but... Anyway, it's not sci-fi.

Which brings me to my next point. Keillor's bit of clever (N)oir is a little too cheeky and amateurish for me. The thing reads a little like a Devin Tanchum script, I'm just waiting for the angel in the white trenchcoat to have a body double. And the few juicy lines are hacked and contrived: Lindsay Lohan's bitter accusation that "someone's dead" and GK's not even going to say anything. You know, nobody really said anything. I wonder how long the corpse sat down there in the basement. Giving off more gas than it took in.

Which brings me to my next point. The trail-hands were well-written, but they were just concentrating too damn hard on hitting the notes to really shine. Those jokes were really funny, though. Woody Harrelson told them with such boyish menace.

Meryl Streep underplayed it perfectly, Tommy Lee Jones has zero comic timing (although that's assuming GK's lines are actually funny), and Lindsay Lohan is out of place, drifting. Why is she in an Altman movie? Jesus, and Kevin Kline's Guy Noir! What the hell? Where did he go at the end? What was the solution? They conspired to murder the Axeman? Yolanda's daughter singing the last song of the show somehow brings it full circle? I think not. Scriptwriting 101: It's deserved, but is it earned?

Am I sounding bitter? Maybe it's a punk gesture. The Prairie Home Companion is just too sacred not to want to spit all over it.

Jesus Camp

I just want to head this one off at the pass and say that to a Middle-American audience, there's probably not much of this film that actually surprises. But, my god (ha ha), will this film make a Blue-stater cringe. The pentecostal stuff is the most frightening. Kids writhing on the floor and crying out arameic gibberish. Harry Potter should be put to death, etc.

It's a lot of shock value, though. I admit there's an important point being made. Levi, the charismatic protagonist, says his favorite subject to preach is Faith. Fundamentalists have clung to this concept like a battle standard to the point that our Protestant commander in chief actually has a Divine Mandate, allowing him carte blanche. Faith in God equals Faith in Bush. It's obvious this is wrong.

The filmmakers of Jesus Camp, however, have crafted a sideshow of "jesus nuts," in order to advance their left-wing message. The connection is obvious, and it's spoken very plainly by the super-minister. "If the Evangelicals vote, they win the election." And Fundamentalism is being taught to our Bible-Belt children. It's a one-liner.

The kids in Jesus Camp are doubly exploited. They are trained to become God's Army by their conservative communities, and now they are propped up on display by liberal filmmakers. It resembles Napoleon Dynamite at certain points. I felt bad for the kids. They don't know they're such weirdos! Jesus Camp never quite reconciled the message. All I saw was a very narrow selection of brainwashed kids being paraded around as the sole reason to subscribe to a left-wing agenda.

Death of a President

There was something ominous and hype-ey about the name Gabriel Range as it appeared over the motorcade and Richard Harvey's looming score played. I don't know, maybe it's the name itself. A name like that should either direct music videos or fight crime. Either way, this film has nothing to do with either. It's a lame crime drama that doesn't move.

The mystery story is played out in the most amateur and poorly-scripted way. The details of the investigation are withheld from us for the sole purpose of drawing a 15-minute YouTube conspiracy into a feature film. The basic premise of the botched conviction is racial profiling, a small bullet in a powerpoint presentation. The What-if aspect of the assassination holds a kind of vague, hangnail fascination, but it's a bullet as well. There are a few good performances from the almost all unknown cast, notably Neko Parham's Casy Claybon and (I love this guy) James Urbaniak's FBI CSI guy.

Politically, it's all hype. Range pulls all his punches, although I can't see even the opportunity for punch. Nobody says anything we didn't hear in any of the countless anti-Bush-regime docs of the last three years. The most salient point is this: Should this film incite similar action, we'll then have the Devil himself with whom to deal, and the three scariest words this year: President Dick Cheney.

The Departed

What a movie, and Brian Belovarac put it very well. Welcome back, Marty. After The Aviator, Martin Scorsese could have shown us any amalgamation of Casino and Goodfellas, and as long as it had jump cuts, camera dollys, and that one Rolling Stones song, we would have popped big gangster-size boners. By "we," I mean "I". As for "gangster-size boners," you'll have to fill it in yourself.

I saw it twice. The jokes were that good. I can't get enough of Alec Baldwin. By now, he's gotten over any kind of smug self-importance that seems to mark his legendary career (joke), and really settled into the self-aware Campbellian comedy act (That refers to Bruce Campbell, if anyone was wondering). Mark Wahlberg stole every scene he was in. A difficult task, being surrounded by so many (and there were many, many) heavy hitters. Martin Sheen was stately, yet tender. Damon likeable, Leo was all over the map. But Mark had this way of swaggering out of the conference room that was just irresistable. He's always had a knack for that impetuous bull-headed self-righteousness.

Yea, the film had its problems. First, I just don't think Marty can direct action. The micro-chip handoff scene was so contrived and strangely blocked, I didn't know what to make of it. The chase scene after the porn theater was another weird clunker. I've said this before, and it's one of the reasons I don't like Boston: The accent! Okay, Marky Mark and Matt Damon were born to play those characters, literally. They're both from badass South Boston or whatever, but when your ensemble cast can't get together on which r's to drop, there's a fundamental issue. Costello's mistress has about five total lines and she delivers them with five different accents that range from British sleaze to Southern Belle.

It was great, though, and it moved, and god-damn it's about time Martin Scorsese get back to the fun stuff. Don't forget what got you here, man.

Borat: Cultural Learnings For Make Benefit Great Nation of Kazakhstan

Sacha Baron Cohen breaks character for one brief glance at the camera while standing behind the Jewish B&B couple, as if to say, "How far should I push this joke?" It's a question with which he's been wrestling since the inception of the character. The couple is completely oblivious, but we are just waiting for the inevitable culture clash. Cohen seems to thrust himself into loaded situations, leaving no choice but to follow through while staying in character. What would Borat do?

He certainly pushes it quite far. Singing the Kazakhi National Anthem to the rodeo crowd takes the cake. It was like a challenge to see which culture he could better defile. I'm surprised he wasn't lynched. The outrageous nudity and the Pamela Anderson scene, though, departed from the more subtle comedy of cultural subversion popularized in Da Ali G show, and bordered on Jackass. Still funny, though.

In essence, that's what happened with the film. I'm usually one to point out missed opportunities, especially when I see what great potential the opportunities hold, but in this case I'm letting it slide. Where Borat could have been an incredibly poignant and fresh means of advancing a clear universal message about cultural values and intolerance, instead it succumbs to the silliness and slapstick genius of its creator and star. It's not a political film, but it's a damn good comedy.

Down in the Valley

You know the story already. It's one of these things where there's one character that just blows absolutely everything apart, and from the get-go you're just waiting for it to frustrate and eventually leave you pissed off. It's that Markie Mark movie, Fear. You've seen it before.

Edward Norton's Harlan Whatever charms his way into the heart of a pretty young thing with some fundamental problems at home, and ends up being a nutjob who has it out with the father. This guy, David Morse, seems pretty comfortable delivering these serviceable performances in film after film, doesn't he? Every time I see the guy I'm thinking, "OK, this is the one," but he never quite breaks that shell. Anyway... The movie also stars the youngest of the Culkin dynasty, who totally nails the target-shooting scene with Norton. The two make a wicked team. So. Maybe there were some niceties in there.

David Jacobsen crafts a hell of a film, but I just saw Michael Haneke's Cache, another one of these "Leave me the hell alone," movies. Did anyone see With a Friend Like Harry (2000)? Actually, a film that rides this premise to fruitful success is Sam Peckinpah's Straw Dogs. Where Jacobsen introduces a gun in the first act and fires it in the third, Peckinpah opts for a giant bear trap. Way more badass.

Twelve and Holding

Director Michael Cuesta's coming-of-age drama follows a group of four friends, in the wake of a tragedy, and explores the individual stories surrounding them. Each child deals with a separate, though equally monumental, hurdle. A fine set of performances, at times even brilliant, make this film so watchable, and despite some traps it seems greenhorn Anthony Cipriano's script falls into, is memorable and enjoyable without being dragged down by sentimentality.

Cuesta seems to have taken a page from the Hal Hartley school of dramatic integrity. It's not only his use of tight, three-condensed-to-two-shot coverage style. Hartley's skill is in raising the particular stakes of a scene subtly, yet almost to the breaking point, bordering on unbelievability. Then he stays there, toeing the line, and makes it the new reality of the film. Cuesta employs similar skills, and his actors respond beautifully. Where Leonard's various showdowns, with his parents, with the P.E. teacher, could have hit a comedic note and merely backed down, Cipriano, Cuesta, and the remarkably talented Jesse Comacho keep the intelligence coming.

There are gorgeous moments in this script. The entire exchange with the P.E. teacher is near perfect (Leonard's entire story is reminiscent of Mike Leigh's All or Nothing, in its mood, its writ, and its humanity), Malee's relationship with her mother, Jacob's father and his excellent wisdom.

But Cipriano is suckered in by the same demons that plagued the guy who wrote Crash. He tries to connect the pieces, wrap the story in a salable package. The end effort merely cheapens the whole. There were nice set-ups, and the entire third act is earned, but all our hopes for an excellent and original thought-piece are blown out the window by the cleverly placed resolutions. Maybe that's why nobody saw this movie.

Fast Food Nation

Finally a political film that's actually got something to do with me and my daily life. Don't get me wrong, I have real feelings for the people dying in Africa and the Middle East, but here's a poignant film that speaks to the ideals of my daily economy. Richard Linklater's latest is a heartfelt gem about our American food and our American way of life and, unfortunately, it will be completely ignored by the masses. Fast Food Sales Rep Harry (Bruce Willis) puts it nicely: "People don't want to be told what's good for them."

There are some very important pieces of writing in this film. Patricia Arquette's character, specifically, is a perfect thematic type. She lies on the bed, a couple drinks deep, and muses her wish to "open the cages and free all the puppies." Co-writer Eric Schlosser, author of the book on which the movie is based, was able to pull off some of this humanistic touch in the original book, despite the fact-based expose style, but in this dramatized script it's allowed to really shine through. The heartstrings are pulled, especially throughout the Mexican struggle. This is clearly based on Upton Sinclair's The Jungle, which is based on fact. And eighty years later, we're told, it's even worse. The Jungle pounds the point home again and again until we and Jurgis are reduced to a dehumanized huddling mass, but Linklater's film keeps it from becoming a "worst-case scenario" by giving us an ironic sense of hope. It's heartbreaking.

But as I have said, this film will be completely ignored. Linklater suspects this, and a few of his characters even state it within the context of the film. "Revolutions are for the young," he says, promptly providing us with a prime example of an idealistic, yet poorly-planned and eventually ineffective example. Revolutions may be for the young and idealistic, but keeping the status quo in place is for the old and powerful. Knowing something is bad and not doing anything about it, though, that's something we all share.

Tenacious D and the Pick of Destiny

I'll admit to liking the band. And I'll concede that I'm inexplicably drawn to the phrase "Junior Western Bacon Chee," and Jables is cuddly cute when he's not in demon mode or sourly inflicting ribald on Rage Kage, and there were Meatloaf and Ronny Dio in the opening scene, which was a killer rock opera explosion.

But the rest was Poops Magee. The songs were stupid and so was the plot. Besides some brilliant epithets, for which JB and KG seem to have a devilish knack, there wasn't much juice.

For Your Consideration

My own worst fears have been confirmed. The Christopher Guest franchise is losing steam. I sensed it after seeing A Mighty Wind. This comedy of farce is wearing thin, and his latest, For Your Consideration, despite its attempt to fit into a more conventional dramatic structure, can't resurrect the magic that was Waiting For Guffman, or even Best In Show.

There's some attempt at Hollywood lampooning, but Guest's tools of farce are weak and unfocused. The film in production is a ridiculous parody of family melodrama that isn't funny, and takes up way too much screen time. (Comic writers, listen to me: Things aren't funny merely because they are Jewish). Only a few of FYC's characters are fleshed out enough to be interesting. This is Guest's classically familiar Underdog story, but instead of putting a fresh twist on the conventions, he seems to have left out some of the meat.

Even Fred Willard is irritating. It's as if this troupe has run out of ideas and fallen back on the basic essentials they can pull off in their sleep. Nobody is bringing anything new to this thing. There were a few moments, obviously, that kept me in the theater. Ricky Gervais is pretty good. John Michael Higgins is a riot. If you do go see this thing, keep your eyes out for Sam, the 2nd 2nd AD. He has one scene, but he's so loveable, and it reminds you of why Guest's movies used to be good.

There's a scene in which some Hollywood astronaut extras, and then a flock of showgirls, pass by in the background and it's the most directorial skill Mr. Guest employs throughout the film.

The Wild Blue Yonder

Here is a brilliant testament to the Home Theater system. A straight-to-video movie that is entirely based on its mastery of the elements of sight and sound. The beauty of this film (actually its raison d'etre, if you will) is in its cinematica. Werner Herzog employs sweeping long takes of both undersea and outer space, punctuated by (my favorite) a bleak depiction of life on the fringe of Americana, vaguely reminiscent of Stroszek.

These takes are long. Very long. Long enough to allow suitable time for the kind of contemplation it'll take to figure out where Herzog is coming from. His use of canned NASA footage clearly negates the fiction element. Brad Dourif's Alien is obviously not an alien. The film is prefaced as "A Science Fiction Fantasy," a likely play on the two genres and their intertwining histories. But really, Herzog combines aspects of both quite beautifully. Between takes of humans floating through space light years away, we have concise and logical explanations of how it will actually be possible in years to come. It's Star Wars with mathematical explanations.

Werner Herzog's legend as an image-maker is only rivaled by his prowess for recognition of appropriated images. In the end, though, Herzog isn't visiting themes far different than his usual mainstays. It's Man's Struggle Against Oblivion, only this time he's shooting for Oblivion itself. This film gives you some time to think about this stuff. Here's an interesting hypothetical: Can you think of another of his films that couldn't be renamed The Wild Blue Yonder?

I'll leave you with this, because it reminded me of it:

Clerks II

Kevin Smith's bold return to the Askewniverse is cute, quaint, and sentimental. As far as comedy goes, the crew has not lost its midas touch, but ultimately it's as if Kevin, like his titular characters, is caught between moving forward as a professional, or sticking around Monmouth County, NJ in an attempt to remain true to the people that got him where he is.

Smith's consistently wordy material somehow never becomes awkward or preachy. His actors can always pull it off. Kevin Smith's talent as a writer/director is overshadowed by the ease at which he makes it look easy. If that makes any sense. This sequel, like his first five movies, makes terms like "mouthbreather, porch monkey, ass-to-mouth, and inter-species erotica" into common dialect, five seconds later a fierce diatribe against Lord of the Rings, cut to a tender dialectic on the nature of basic human relations.

The problem with the film, though, isn't in the treatment of the material, or even the material itself, it's the time and place. Kevin, you made an important step out of your comfort zone with Chasing Amy, and I don't think you've explored it further. Woody Allen, for example, recognized his growth as an intelligent filmmaker (yes, like you, Kevin!) and made an important step beyond the farcical tropes of his early work, creating some of the best films of all time, not merely of his own career. Don't let early success ruin you! There's still hope!

Casino Royale

Bond is back with fury, this time fighting a euro-type insider trader, exploiting guerilla terrorists for useable stock futures despite perpetual bleeding from his eye. Bond is completely fucking superhuman, a master of Texas Hold-em, has muscles growing off muscles most people don't even have in the first place, and totally bloodthirsty. He kills so many people, and with such introverted glee. Then he goes back to the Texas Hold-em table wearing a new shirt. Like we wouldn't notice. Oh, but the bad guy notices. It's really just a re-hash of Batman Begins. Expository prequel that deals with subject's inability to reconcile the brutality and isolation required by his position, deals with it, realizes there's nothing to be done about it. Only this time there's Texas Hold-em.

Personally, I like the premise. Humanity versus professionalism, or something.

Casino Royale, though, loses points for many reasons. It'll probably surpass Die Another Day for top-grossing Bond flick, justifiably, but shouldn't we start judging by different terms, considering tickets cost 5 times what they used to, and inflation, and all that? 1965's Thunderball sold twice the number of tickets, but for only 2 dollars a pop! It's silly, back to the movie.

For one, Texas Hold-em is a stupid game. There, I said it. I'm saying right now that the minute it hit ESPN it became stupid and I'm god-damn sick of it. Don't see Casino Royale unless you want to watch an hour of Texas fuckin Hold-em. The plot is not good, and the climax hinges on whether Bond can win at poker.

Daniel Craig's pretty good as Bond. I can't give up on my man, though. Connery may have been the original, but Pierce Brosnan was always my fave. Also, from the very beginning, I desperately wanted to be able to call it "Royale with Cheese," but alas, there is a point of light. This is not a cheesy film.

Lady Vengeance...

...and The Vengeance Trilogy.

Park Chan-Wook's Lady Vengeance, the third installment of his trilogy, rarely guts as well as its parent films. This story, by far the lamest (and I mean this both in the literal sense that it is wholly ineffective and inoperable, as well as in that it is totally lame, dude), seems to assume that there's a point to be made about the metaphysics of vengeance. This is also where Oldboy (the second in the series) failed. Oh Dae-su follows his boyhood specter from playground to vacant classroom and watches as he feels up Woo-jin's sister. As a flashback, it works fine, but to Park, it makes sense that Dae-su reliving this moment puts him on some kind of spiritual plane with Woo-jin. It does only in the sense that Dae-su is now in a position to empathize with Woo-jin's moral decision. Park ignores the fact that he's grounded in a world of flesh and bones (and, obviously, gallons of prop blood). Is Park implying some kind of designing force? The two men are in the hands of fate? Snooze.

The problem with this latest film is amplified. There's no room for moral decision, and the class-action vengeance suit in the third act is not a moral discussion, nor does one member need to be at all convinced of the need for action. The Angel of Vengeance, or so goes the metaphor, is the guiding force, and what kind of comment is that? A benign one. It is written into the course of history that humans will have their revenge. By constantly referencing his own films, playing casting-tag with his character actors, and presenting these pieces as a Trilogy, Park even more firmly cements us in his world of truncated psychological rules. There are only so many character traits possible, as Geum-ja's prison girlfriend plainly states, "You were only pretending, weren't you..." Park has stacked the deck. Lady Vengeance's story is not even interesting. It's a boring meditation on the themes raised in the first two films, with some plot tricks thrown in as eye candy.

Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance only hit this flat note once or twice, for example the parallel phone hang-up and subsequent question: Who is the real Mr. Vengeance? Get it? We're all Lady and Mr. Vengeance! It's a part of our constitution.

As a craftsman, Park certainly knows his stuff. One look at the mirror scene in the first act of Mr. will hold you until the tendon-slashing finale. Ryu's support system is neatly pared away, physically, psychologically, visually, until he is reduced to nothing more than a body. Park achieves the greatest meditation on the nature of revenge through his ruggedly sparse cinematics. Two installments later, we're barraged with a stupidly Baroque score, graphic novel blacks and browns, macabre weapons, and (haven't we gotten past this?!) HOME VIDEO FOOTAGE OF MURDER.

Highlights: The Oedipus cycle, the Achilles tendon, Lesbos. A five-year-old is hanged. The word "dickshit." A man eats a live octopus.

Lowlights: Nihilism, Buddhism, Hypnotism. Geum-ja's annoying aussie daughter. Granny in a plastic blood-safe suit.

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu

I'm seeing this one rather late, after the rest of you have had your just say about it. Amid the overwhelming praise for this movie, there are obviously a few who didn't quite catch the spirit, and I'll put myself in that camp, but only on a certain level. Christi Puiu's second film definitely has some admirable moments in its technique. The frustration only builds and builds, while Puiu's hand-held camera petutantly records the various layers of absurdity and injustice. Puiu does a fine job of walking the line between overblown satire (because although they leave a bitter taste, the jokes are in there) and exposé-style social commentary. I like the references by some to Fred Wiseman. Though it's a thoroughly manufactured record, it's after all, still a record of a system not without glaring problems, and it carries this weight.

Many of the performances are subtly impressive. I was particularly drawn to the doctors. Each successive "specialist" seemed to want to be done with Lazarescu and the entire film itself. The only time I laughed out loud was at Florin Zamfirescu, the first doctor, the one that looked like an Ewok. His hint of grandiosity despite the crumbling walls around him was right on the money (i.e. He shakes the hand of a man he doesn't seem to even know, as if he's running for office).

The film itself, though, takes a back seat to the social commentary. Puiu must have intended this. His unbearably long takes, the appalling attitude of the medical world, and the formal repetition resemble an essay rather than a narrative. I'm not as interested in comparing this film with Kafka as I am with William Faulkner. Puiu's use of the As I Lay Dying premise isn't the only reason for the comparison. Faulkner's treatment of his subjects, both titular and peripheral, is one of understanding coupled with harsh indictment. This film is of the same attitude.

Even to the very end, the point about Mr. Lazarescu's liver is pounded home. There's nothing the overworked emergency room staff, even if they did give a shit, could do about a lifelong alcoholic and his cirrhosis-hardened liver! Responsibility ultimately lies with the patient! I'm not up on Romanian current events, but it's almost as if Puiu is pointing the finger at his drunk, lethargic countrymen, accusing them of leeching off a universal health care system, still conducting their lives according to some selfish sense of personal entitlement after the communist era. Or maybe that's just how I saw it.

Inland Empire

Walking away from a dense, three-hour-long treatise on the nature of fear and memory, haunted by the superimpositions of faces and the sludgy yet powerful force of good, old-fashioned, close-up Sony digital video, my ears still ringing, eyes re-focusing, bladder beckoning for reprieve, I wondered if I'd ever go back. "See David Lynch's Inland Empire 9 times and get the 10th free!" read the sign outside the IFC Theater in Manhattan. By the time I'd managed to wait out the restroom line (Lynch fans to the T, every one of them. I saw a Pabst Blue Ribbon shirt and 75 pairs of horn-rimmed glasses), I still hadn't decided whether I'd do it again any time soon. Certainly not nine more times. Upon further meditation and reflection, though, I've decided I want more.



David Lynch's casting work is excellent, and I was particularly appalled/entranced by Grace Zabriskie's New Neighbor. The tracking lines in the the blown-up video image around her Medusa-like visage are mesmerizing and despite a flatness (and altogether lack of visual integrity) that video cannot avoid, there's enough presence exuded by this great cast that seems to embed them in the frame, creating, at it's most brilliant moments, what is so beautifully original about DV cinema. It's a meld of performance, sound, and visual art in a way that the lines blur. Without the distance of an expensive 35mm camera, we're so attuned to the physicality of the performances, the performers are actually people doing these things rather than distant Hollywood stars, and we can feel ourselves as people reacting to the actors as people.



His themes are more broad and veiled than most of his other films. Always an avenue of accessibility to his work is the indentification of the world of Lynchian thematics. In this case, Laura Dern is skillfully able to reprise some of the femininity and delicate innocence of Wild At Heart, so much so that her confessional upstairs, tales of violence and rape, seem doubly horrifying, almost cathartic. Likewise, her Polish husband's reversal is similarly disgusting. Inland Empire, though, makes dwindling shades of its themes like darkening levels of muddy DV grain. Maybe that's why this thing seems to warrant multiple viewings, we're left with barely enough to chew on.



There are so many reasons to be fascinated, though, and so many parts that are awesome. Hangin' out with the street people in the closing act, Black Tambourine, David Lynch composing songs and where was Angelo Badalamenti?, the strobe light dance sequence, the Polish folk mafia. I read that Canal was limiting festival and theater releases because the legions of Lynch superfans and their inevitable praise would justify his refusal to cut it down to a marketable screen time.



Here's an amazing quote by David Lynch that they played before the film: "People asked if I'd ever make a studio film. That's like asking if I'd ever poke a giant knife into my chest. ...It might happen."

The Last King of Scotland

It's nice to see an African role not played by this guy. Also, the noms are in this morning and it looks as though Forest Whitaker's Oscar-bait performance has done the trick. Cheers. Nothing like a good bio-pic to get the nomination juices flowing. Just mimic a noted historical figure for an hour-and-a-half of screen time and you'll nail yourself a nod. Just ask her, her, him, this guy, etc. Hollywood magic. An actor I've always admired and with whom I've always been impressed, Forest Whitaker's long-awaited performance as eccentric Ugandan dictator Idi Amin is unfortunately watered down with the sap of his eager colleagues who've been riding the biography wave for the past two or three years and reaping the inevitable rewards.

And maybe it's because I've just been through an Asian Extreme kick, been around the world for the past month, saw the newest David Lynch, and not to mention Jackass Number Two, but director Kevin MacDonald's brutal film didn't gut me the way it seemed to the rest of the audience behind me. A woman with (the faint of heart and stomach should look away now) her arms replaced with her legs would normally have caused me to cringe, but instead I took it in stride. The similarly hard-on-the-stomach climax was another brutality I was able to endure.

Anyone fully embracing "The Last King of Scotland" as a noteworthy film should see its superior predecessor, 1970's "A Man Called Horse," starring a radiant Richard Harris. Where LKOS's determinist perspective, pessimistic anti-transcendentalism, and deliberate dearth of humanity and reason make for a total bummer of an "edgy" political thriller, Elliot Silverstein's 1970 film maintained an absolute faith in the integrity of its cultural values. The hanging sequence a celebration of what cements the solidarity of a culture, rather than a fiendish retaliatory reminder to the Great White West that African politics are in fact "real."

As if we need to be reminded of this. Aren't the New York City subway ads "real" enough? "Humans becoming extinct faster than animals," "We are all African," and so on. Didn't we just see Blood Diamond, and Hotel Rwanda, and SaveDarfur.org? MacDonald's unfortunate boon is that Africa is a cruel and inhuman place and the only thing its people understand is a deliberate show of force. The film has been accused of an imperialistic approach due to its reliance on a cute and charismatic white boy as our keyhole into Africa. I make the same accusation, but for a different reason. LKOS's humanity is missing, and the empathy and tolerance of foreign practices (polygamy, torture, etc.) isn't even hinted at. Yes, the Scottish doctor makes some grave mistakes, but at least he's portrayed with some kind of reasoning mechanism. The Africans in this film are treated as props, the squabbling pawns of Western Imperialists. I'll admit, though, it is done in the name of a higher purpose. That purpose is called Hollywood Political Thrill.

Pan's Labyrinth

I spoke too soon about cringing at the gutty stuff. It seems the fates have decided to call my bluff and in Pan's Labyrinth have thrown another gruesome series of iniquities in my face. I'm sensing a trend. But I'm on the last chapter of an epic novel about ancient Japan, and my nerve for violence is like concrete. Bring it on, Hollywood. After 9/11, we were barraged with a wave of fantasy films. Now they've turned dark. Actually what really turns my stomach is that more people will be distressed by the (actually relatively tame) torture scene at the end of Pan's Labyrinth's second act, than at the constantly rising death toll at the beginning of the second act of the Iraq War.

Sergi Lopéz plays Capitán Vidal, a storybook brute of a commanding officer. Despite some hints that maybe there's a man inside this shell of evil, we're left only with his trail of horror. It's the status quo for conventional entertainment. Leave out the challenging psychological stuff and substitute with POWERFUL IMAGES (i.e. Good vs. Evil). Mainstream audiences are seemingly able to endure mass amounts of violence, death, and pessimism, but are we really that incapable of negotiating conflicting moral issues? I mean, please, I would have been perfectly satisfied accepting that the commander was a sound, reasonable man inside, but due to the pressures of his position...etc. Oh well. Same old, same old. Lopéz always makes a perfect bad guy, though, doesn't he?

Despite my reservations about considering this film at all mature, I'm definitely impressed with the art direction. Guillermo del Toro deserves a lot of credit for both his images and sounds. I call to attention El Fauno himself, brittle in both mind and body. The asymetry was astounding, the facial expressions subtly brilliant, and the creaks and cracks of his age-old limbs captivating. I don't even like CG. What I did appreciate was the use of sets, costumes, makeup, and models in conjuction with a cohesive and well-planned CG scheme. Also Doug Jones nearly revises his (and del Toro's) Hellboy creation. Excellent.

I'm not convinced, though, even after tearing up a little at the end (But, really, I cry during previews when the music swells. I'm just a sucker for the stuff). I know I always compare everything to earlier, better films, but when there's so many good ones most people have never even heard about, what else can I do? In this case it's Víctor Erice's 1973 masterpiece, The Spirit of the Beehive. It's the story of a young girl experiencing the horrors of post-war Spain through dark fantasies known only to herself. Weird, I know, but does it sound familiar? Erice's main character, Ana, is slightly younger, and according to a recent article in the New York Times, still at a normal age where fantasy and reality cannot always be separated. Likewise, from Ana's perspective Good and Evil are also up for interpretation. Del Toro tosses this idea aside in favor of a non-thinking tear-jerker that isn't as original as its graphic-novel-reading audience would have us believe.

United 93

This is amazing to me. The much needed break from what could be the most overwhelming gush of blind patriotism and armchair political opinion in all of time just happens to be a Hollywood action thriller about the event that spurned it all. Paul Greengrass's film, contrary to my initial fears about the project, included none of the sickening "victimismo" that the event has instilled in our poor nation. It relied on none of the spectacle of leftist protest that has loosened countless indie investors' wallets in recent years. It mentioned El Presidente two or three times briefly, with only a passing reference to "where he was" at the moment of crisis, as Michael Moore has already so eloquently pointed out. This film even diplomatically avoids driving into our heads a memoriam of names, families, affectees, etc., although (despite my clever quip before watching it) many of the roles were played by actual participants in the event.

All this is vastly impressive, and I believe Greengrass knows that a political film about 9/11 would be the wrong war at the wrong time. So instead, he's created an even more impressive work, to the delight of us all. An action thriller! The notion of restraint was the guiding principle in avoiding the pitfalls of a film of this theme. Likewise, restraint has done its job in guiding Greengrass through the genre. There's no gratuitous special effects that usually mar any kind of intellectual accessibility. There's no "star power." The tension is spine-tingling, and the buildup to the predetermined finale is celebrated, rather than shamelessly hinted at, because don't we always know the ending of these things anyway? This film is an excellent psychological thrill-ride, and isn't it a shame that it took the deaths of over 3,000 New Yorkers to finally get this premise right? Maybe something can be done about the SpiderMan franchise.

Jonestown: The Life and Death of People's Temple

Being of the slightly younger generation, my limited exposure with cult issues ranges from David Karesh to the Heaven's Gate debacle. I've read about Charles Manson and Jim Jones, heard all the Kool-Aid jokes, and thusly I've been able to keep up with the references in various Simpsons episodes. But it wasn't until Jones' commanding voice blared from the loudspeaker, the archived tapes painting a macabre scene over the 16mm beauty of the Guyanan rainforest, that I realized the impact. I was one of two people in the theatre and by the end we were both in uncontrollable tears.

It's a sad story, the tragedy of People's Temple and the Jonestown community. Stanley Nelson's tale is one of supreme empathy. The film relies on large amounts of previously unseen 16mm documentation and audio recordings made by the Temple itself. Despite the revelatory images and sounds, there's not much being presented that hasn't already been revealed over the years by various news sources and psychologists. The cornerstone of Nelson's take on the material is steady thoughout the film, and it is the belief that People's Temple was born in optimism. Jim Jones preached faith, and despite his ominous allusions to himself as father, lover, and even God, the message was always one and the same: It's a big, bad world out there, and in People's Temple lies not only spiritual Salvation, but economical, physical, practical Salvation. Quite unlike Baptist, Evangelical, Pentecostal faith systems promising unlimited bounty in the next world, Jones offered something considerably more attractive: support in this world as well.

As a companion piece to this, despite my ever-present indignant attitude, I recommend Jesus Camp, a film that, due to an obligatory Oscar nod, is again being picked up by a theatre in your area. In stark contrast to Jonestown's Ken Burns-style journalism, Jesus Camp is a sideshow of religious zealouts, jammed into a shortened-for-consumption expos.. that breathes sensationalism like an underabundant supply of oxygen. Jesus Camp's tone is angry, inflammatory, and propagandistic. Jonestown is a welcome removal from the frothing mad world of competitve agenda-pushing and actually exhibits some compassion for its wounded subjects. It's a sad and delicate tribute.