A Hybrid's Writing Exercise

The Aspergers Bandwagon

2010-06-17T07:07:00.002-05:00

Hulu has afforded me the chance to watch way more TV than I used to, and I do a lot of it at my current job. It helps that the bulk of my work these days is data entry, which requires very little mental commitment or screen space most of the time, so I can watch episodes of TV and still be productive (which is usually all it takes to not get yelled at...most of the time). And the observation I'm interested in has been made and published before (by Alan Sepinwall & Dan Feinberg over at HitFix.com). But it's had me thinking about a few things that I wanted to flesh out here.

I just got done watching an episode of In Plain Sight that I assume aired last week or last night (I forget USA's deal with Hulu) and IPS is one of many shows lately that wrote in a storyline about a character with Asperger's. In case you're unfamiliar, Asperger's Syndrome is a diagnosis on the autism spectrum and is often very high functioning. But there is often still a tendency towards things like having difficulty connecting emotionally, recognizing physical cues (shoulder shrugs, etc.), and interpreting things literally (which makes stuff like sarcasm, jokes, and idiomatic expressions not make sense). Obviously I'm no expert on the subject, so if you want to know more you should probably look elsewhere, but that's my knowledge and understanding.

Now, there has been a surprising large amount of characters on TV that I watch lately that implicitly if not explicitly people with Asperger's. IPS introduced a guest star with one, but main characters exist on Parenthood, Big Bang Theory, and Bones to name a few. And while my memory is failing me, I know I've seen more as well, and enough recently to see a trend.

Now the practical side of my brain suggests that the sudden appearance of a similar differentiating character trait popping up across multiple networks and shows is probably just a standard industry reaction to a success in one place. TV and entertainment in general loves to repeat what starts working, rather than take a risk and do something new, so it's no surprise if say a show like Bones takes off it makes it easier and even more attractive to the executives and check-writers to back shows and characters that have something in common with proven successes.

But, that's hardly a new idea, and we all know that anyway. The thing is, even if the motive is entirely in obtaining money, I'm more interested in my reaction to it. The first thing I thought when I saw that IPS was using the "Asperger's Angle" in this last episode was "Really? They're jumping on the bandwagon too?" But I thought about it for a few seconds, and I realized that this is actually all in all a pretty cool thing. The reality is that certain castings/characters/relationships are avoided if they're considered too foreign or inaccessible. Having just been watching a crap-load of British Sci-Fi and Sitcoms, one of the things that stood out is the frequency with which they show interracial couples, specifically a black and white couple. I tried to think of any major American show that does this and...I can't come up with one. I know I've seen them from time to time, but for whatever reason it feels like more often than not if it is written or casted it's pointed out and has some relevance to the plot. It's not just another relationship, it's specifically an interracial one, and the show and the viewer are supposed to be aware of it. The British stuff? Not at all. It just is. We as Americans, rightly or wrongly, must be considered to be uncomfortable with, if not directly opposed to, seeing interracial romantic relationships on screen. I can't think of another reason why with the glut of movies and TV we have there wouldn't be more, otherwise. So clearly it's something that our entertainment industry is very aware of, and apparently leery of (or at least so it appears to me, it's not like I've done a ton of research).

So for Asperger's to be getting the airtime it is is kind of interesting, particularly in the cases where it's not done specifically to be a plot point. I'm thinking of shows like Big Bang Theory and Bones when I say this, but those two characters (Shelden and Bones herself) aren't written with a big neon "Asperger's" sign around their necks; it's just a facet of the character that crops up. Which is an important distinction from, say, the episode of IPS, which very clearly is building the central conflict of its plot around how hard it is for someone to interact with a person with Asperger's. Things that are other or different can get written in as a "oo, look at that" kind of plot device, but when they're simply another facet of description no different from "He's tall" or "she's blonde"? That doesn't happen too often.

And really I'm glad if that's the case. Our culture in particular tends to get obsessive over differences and divisions; we're constantly drawing lines in the sand, defining others by generalizations and sweeping descriptions, and looking for opportunities to point out either how liberal we are in going outside our comfort zones, or just how much we don't want to do it. Genuine people who don't see the divisions as divisions seem to be few and far between. So it makes me kind of happy to see a cultural touchstone like our TV watching to be moving toward what seems to be a place where at least high functioning autism isn't quite so other. And while I'm not so naive as to think this means people are going to stop treating folks on the autism spectrum like "retards", it's not a bad sign. Not a bad sign at all.

In Loving Memory

2010-05-26T13:58:00.002-05:00

I think I was about 5 when my house was struck by lightning. I remember bits and pieces of that night: the thunderstorm being exceptionally loud of course, my aunt and grandmother being there with us, my old German Shepard Radar and our kitten Inky, the sound it made when that lightning bolt came through the window on the 2nd floor and hit the electrical socket, the fact that Radar and Inky were the first ones out the door and in the car ready to get out of town, etc. etc.

But the thing I remember most clearly is heading across the street to our Neighbor's house while we waited for the fire department to come and make sure the house didn't burn down. The Knodel's were some of the nicest people I've ever met, and without hesitation Adolf and Dot let us into their house while we waited for the mess to die down. For some reason I distinctly remember standing in a den/living room of theirs, and staring at the fish tank, mesmerized. I don't know that I'd ever been inside their house before, or really again after that, but I felt perfectly calm, and kept watching those fish.

The Knodel's were always great to me and my brother and sister, too. They had a bunch of sheep, and a horse named Shotsy that we would pet and feed apples. Our cat was the runt of a litter born in the Knodel's barn, and I loved that little thing for a long time. I can remember Adolf taking his giant tractor across the street to plow out our driveway in the snow, and they always had a smile and something nice to say anytime I saw them. They were the kind of neighbors you only really hear about in stories, and we were lucky to have them.

I can't say exactly when Adolf passed away, but I remember feeling sorry for Mrs. Knodel. I know she moved out to Pennsylvania, and I can't remember whether she brought the horse with her or sold her, just that they both were gone and I haven't seen them since.

Their house still stands across the street from my folks' place, though the old fields Shotsy roamed around on were turned into a couple of cookie-cutter suburban houses and the land divvied up. But the Knodel's place still looks the same (at least from the outside). And without fail, every time I go home when I see that house I think of two of the sweetest neighbors a kid could be lucky to have; a horse eating crabapples out of my hand, and my little black cat that was born in the barn across the street.

Mrs. Knodel died recently, and my sister was kind enough to let me know when she heard. It's been a long time since I've seen her, but it just felt right to put down my memories and let someone know she was important to me and my family. She was a great woman, and will be sorely missed.

Thoughts on Crazy Heart

2010-03-28T15:45:00.003-05:00

"So did you figure out what you want to be?" "Nope, just what I don't want to do again"

Forgive me if I've misquoted; my pen ran dry during the previews, and I can't seem to track down the exact line, so I'm going with my best recollection.

Crazy Heart is one of those films where I find it difficult to sort out how much of my enjoyment is the film being exceptional, and how much is just it being in my wheelhouse. I'm as loyal a Jeff Bridges fan as can be (started the first time my buddy and I saw The Big Lebowski back in Jersey, and crystallized talking movies with Mr. Keck, when he recommended Fearless). Couple that with a lead that's found himself beat down and poured his heart into his guitar case and a whiskey bottle in equal parts, and I've already bought my ticket.

Maybe part of the reason the story was so easy for me to fall into was because it's a road I've looked down before, and that sometimes still calls out to me. There's a beautiful seduction in those long shots of the New Mexico desert and that old '79 Silverado; the thought of spending your days with a guitar in hand and a drink on your tongue sure do sound sweet when everything else looks bleak. If I were a better hand on the ax, I might've tried it a while ago. Because there's no need to explain things when you live that kind of life; all you need to do is exactly what Bad says: never miss a show. You'll make enough scratch to keep the drinks coming, and if you're any good you'll even find a few folks along the way to keep you company on the lonelier nights (not that they'll ever get that close to you). Might even get the chance to fuck up a marriage or five. But hey, the guitar and the bottle won't judge you, and won't leave you if you take care of 'em. And when you're feeling beaten down already, it sure as Hell sounds like it'd be more than enough reason to keep getting up in the morning, especially if you love the music the way Bad does..

But it's nothing more than the old gilded lily, in the end. The music might keep you alive, and the drink might keep the pains you're running from dulled enough to quite 'em, but for every ounce of good it pours in it bleeds out an ounce and a half. So it's easy to see why Bad would latch on to Jean so quickly when he comes across her. Here's a beautiful young thing (especially compared to the woman he sneaks out on after his bowling alley gig) who's got a head enough to really appreciate the music he loves, and is genuinely interested in him. That's the kind of good woman that can give a man feelings towards settling down. Hell, the music can take a backseat to her for a while; especially when it means he doesn't have to be confronted with yet another reminder of his protege, Tommy Sweets', success (and, because that's the way these things look through a whiskey-colored lens, the failures of his own career). Fuck the agent, fuck the gigs; all you need are a few days alone with a good woman and a young boy he can plug in place of his own estranged kin.

But the trouble is, it isn't enough when you're as deep in the bottle as Bad is. And that's something the film does a good job of showing. It's like the Slobberbone line says: "There's been girls who've loved me, but I cheated on them. With a woman named Whiskey, and Gin her best friend." The booze can't be held at bay, no matter how much he might even want to. Just take the scene of Bad rushing into the bathroom to take a hit off his flask to quell the shakes. And, of course, it all culminates when he sits down at the bar and chooses a bottle over Buddy, and winds up losing everything he thought he had.

So why would something like this be good to watch? Where's the pleasure in watching talent squandered; love betrayed; and a man broken down as far as he can. That's the reality of it, after all. You hit rock bottom, maybe you get sober, but that's not the fix it might seem like at first. Getting sober won't fix things with Jean; and they won't get Bad's son Steven to want to talk to him. But it's like the say, you take it one day at a time.

Things seem to turn out alright in the end. Bad's making money and writing good music (something he hasn't done in three years); Jean finds a good man (presumably) to marry and take care of Buddy; and even Tommy has finally gotten a chance to do a little more right by his mentor/friend than he had before (it's not really fleshed out all that well, but I got a pretty clear sense that on some level at least Tommy feels bad he hasn't been able to do more for Bad).

But, tragic or not, this one's a Hell of a gem. There aren't many actors as good as Bridges, and his face alone can tell more story than most actors ever do. You learn all you need to about Bad & Jean's stories while they sit in those dingy, piece of shit motel rooms, talking through a haze of smoke and drink. The long close-shots of Bridges' face in various states of sick, depressed, happy and drunk; the long shots of New Mexico, and the tear and make-up stained expressions of Jean seeing a glimpse for herself of how badly it's going to turn out.

I think you could make the case that Crazy Heart is a musical at heart, too. Not in the "singing lines that would normally be spoken" sense, but more in the music being the center of the story. That's where some of the themes get laid out clearest; and it's where the real soul of Bad's character lies in those lap-steel slides and country twang guitars. 'Cause the point of it all is just like the songs say: It's funny how fallin' feels like flying, for a little while. And everything happens for a reason, even when it's wrong; especially when it's wrong.

4/5 for Bridges, Gyllenhaal, and Crazy Heart. It'll give you a few moments to smile at, and plenty of tragic turns to make you feel for the characters, and perhaps thankfully with enough of a decent epilogue to keep from walking away too sad with it all. But, to date, the best flick I've seen in the past year. Better than Hurt Locker, I thought.

Personal Responsibility

2010-02-19T02:55:00.002-05:00

I'm not sure what set me over the edge today, though there are plenty of things it could be. I've been pissed at SouthWest for the shit they're pulling with Kevin Smith and the girl they sat next to him; I'm pissed about some of the crap that comes out of people's mouths/keyboards in response to the crazy old Oakland man with the epic beard defending himself on a bus; and I came very close to hopping out of my car in baltimore rush hour today and stabbing someones tires. But, and this is hardly some fantastic new revelation mind, I realized a while ago that there is a traceable root to a great many of our problems (both personal and societal). People simply do not admit responsibility for their actions, and are rarely held accountable.

Don't believe me? Think about your day to day goings on. When's the last time someone you weren't related to or close with admitted they did something wrong? How often do you see someone at your job say "I'm really sorry, I messed that up, here's how I think I can fix it"? Chances are good you can't remember, because at some point we decided as a society that the best way to avoid negative consequences was to blame everyone but ourselves when things went wrong.

In traffic, nobody ever gives you the "I'm sorry!" hands up anymore. You just tailgated me, swerved around with no turn signal, cut me off, stood on your brakes and flipped me off because... I made you drive like an asshole? It's my fault we're in traffic and you're impatient? Or is it just because my plates say New Jersey and we're in Maryland, so naturally you should assume I'm an outsider and therefore the enemy and to be blamed.

Or let's take our friend Epic Beard Guy from the bus in Oakland. Now, having grown up in the suburbs of New Jersey in a predominately white and affluent neighborhood, I witnessed on more than one occasion racial prejudice from white people towards others. It's always sickened me, and studying government and history I got upset at how systemic it has been and in some cases still is in the way we structure our society. And whenever I heard some blowhard like Rush Limbaugh or Glen Beck or Bill O'Reilly or Asshole-Republican-Pundit-du'jour yell about "reverse racism" it made me pissed off and sick. But the sad truth is, white people do not have the market cornered on racism.

Living in Baltimore, I have seen more angry, intractably racist black people than I have ever met before in my life. People who treat me horribly from the get-go because I'm white; KIDS who swear at me and give me dirty looks IN SCHOOL because I'm white. I've heard parents talk about how they need to make sure their mixed-race kid learns about racism so he doesn't get taken advantage of, when what they usually mean is they need to teach their kid to yell racism when he or she doesn't like the consequences of their actions. I have heard more ridiculous stories about how someone ringing up credit card debt for tens of thousands of dollars on shit they don't need, and then not being able to pay their rent, is the white racist bankers and landlord's fault. Or how the study I work for on how to improve teacher's ability to manage behavior in classrooms is racist because I'm white and the kids are black. Or, in the case of the Oakland fellow, how groups of young black kids systemically trying to intimidate and aggravate what they believe to be vulnerable white people on the Oakland bus is somehow not to blame when one of them fucks with the wrong guy. That video cuts in suddenly to the end of a sentence from the young black kid, followed by the crazy white guy going off on what is likely a racist line about getting his shoes shined, and he doesn't care if the kid's black or a chinaman. But, the chinaman is not the issue here, dude. The issue is that the old white guy walks to the front of the bus, continues to jaw back with the kid who doesn't stop harassing him (and now his friends the camera girls join in, too) and then WALKS TO THE FRONT OF THE BUS AND HITS THE OLD GUY IN THE FACE. What he didn't count on was the old guy standing up and turning his angry black face into hamburger meat.

And what's the last thing you hear? The dumbass kid talking about how he's going to "get that motherfucker", even though he's bleeding all over himself, and the moron girl with the camera talking about how they can press charges because she videotaped it. Bitch you videotaped you and your boy harassing some guy and then going after him and getting your comeuppance. Stop being fuckers on the bus and you won't have problems!

So please, if you are for some reason reading this, I'm absolutely begging you: stop blaming everyone else for when things go wrong. If you rear-end a guy on the road because you were tailgating and going too fast and couldn't stop, don't fucking yell at the guy you just hit. Sack up and admit you were wrong, because you're getting the damn ticket anyway. No reason to be an asshole about it. In fact, do us all a favor and just slow the hell down. Don't throw other people under the bus at work when you drop the ball, and don't sit there and let someone else take the blame. Just fucking make it better. And please, for the love of whatever thing you hold Holy, stop finding reasons to hate other people. Chances are the guy you just met and are now calling a d-bag, or the girl you decided is a whore because you watched her walk down the street are actually pretty decent people. And if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit you only assume everyone sucks because it makes you feel better about yourself, for some sad pathetic reason.

I know you're all better than that. I know I'm better than that. So let's just fucking BE better than that, ok? I'll do my part if you all start doing yours.

A Day in the District

2010-02-14T14:20:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was a pleasant day, even if doing too much walking in my new work boots beat the living Hell out of my ankle. My folks were down taking a vacation in DC and then heading to Monticello tonight, so we met up to take a tour of the Capitol building and have lunch. I hadn't been up to see them in a while, and it was nice to get out after the back-to-back blizzards and not have to drive too far.

It was also my first time in the Capitol building (why I hadn't been before, I couldn't particularly say). Now, I know I'm a bit of a sucker and prone to romanticizing things, but I did honestly get chills a couple times walking through the Rotunda; seeing the frescos on the wall and the ceiling; the really fantastic black marble bust of MLK Jr. alongside Jefferson and Eisenhower. To walk through a building with that kind of majesty and grandeur while under the watchful gaze of some of our country's most important figures is rather awe-inspiring, and the beauty of the architecture and art only adds to that. Walking through those halls and being able to know that I was standing in the same place that Lincoln stood; where the Supreme Court heard the Dred Scott case; and where so many other events of massive national significance took place was inspiring to me.

Unfortunately, I couldn't help but be tinged with cynicism, and that saddened me. I understand that those who work in the Capitol would grow accustomed to working in a building, no matter how magnificent or historically important. At a certain point the office becomes the office, and that is understandable at least. But there's a part of me that listens to the things members of Congress say; the ways in which they bicker and jockey for personal power; the asinine arguments made to justify foregoing what may be right or just in favor of what they find personally or politically expedient and rewarding; and I simply cannot understand. I can't fathom the depth of arrogance and greed it must take to twist the power of governance to one's own ends in a place where the ghosts of so many historically important figures keep watch over their work.

But I suppose the level of arrogance and pride needed to use a hallowed office in congress for whatever personal or political goal might be present (whether it's eroding the rights of consumers in favor of protections for banks and corporations, or just trying to discreetly commit adultery with your secretary) are the same qualities they used to land the job in the first place.

Now, I don't think that all members of congress are self-serving blowhards; nor do I harbor some image of all our past representatives being angelic servants of Democracy and Justice. That a man like Brooks could cane Sumner in the Capitol building itself, and be praised by his state and constituents is only one example of a historical figure I'd like to dropkick.

But I do worry that we take for granted a legacy and history that should be much more to us than it is. That we're willing to call ourselves patriots and wave flags, but we don't understand what it is we have. The Tea Party-ers are simply the most recent example; but these morons screaming nonsensical slogans and slurs while calling for a reclaiming of "our America" all too often have clearly no idea what our America is or was. And so long as the people are willfully ignorant and led, those they elect will simply do what they need to in order to maintain the power they crave. And the true public servant becomes scarcer and scarcer, as the buy-in increases and the common denominator plummets.

No positive outlook or happy ending this time. Because I have a hard time seeing the coming of good fortune in a Republican Party that declares being asked to debate Health Care in a public, televised forum "a trap", and a Democratic Party that seems ever eager to show just how impotent they are. All I can hope is that we, the represented, can at some point stop being cynical about how all politicians are crooked, or simple-minded about blue vs. red, and put half the effort into finding and supporting good public servants as we do into tracking our fantasy sports teams and lobbying for whatever stupid call-in-to-vote contest show is on tonight.

The Perils of Television

2010-02-02T22:26:00.002-05:00

I'm an hour and a half into the Lost season premiere, and noting a general wave of vitriol and "who the hell cares?" from a bunch of friends and others. Some of that is inevitable, I suppose; a typical reaction to having something promoted as much as Lost's last season has been. And that's probably exacerbated by the fanatic nature of some of the show's fans, which together probably turn into a bit of overload for someone who hasn't watched the show much, if at all.

One of the main reasons I really like Lost (or shows like Firefly, Dollhouse, Mad Men, The Wire, for that matter) is because they take an epic story arc, and tend to place a bit of a premium on long-term character development. The old TV show model was pretty simple; take a premise that lets the characters get introduced quickly, and have every episode be self contained. You don't need to have Seen Episode 105 to understand Episode 201, and the characters tend to be the same regardless of where you jump in. That kind of storytelling handcuffs your ability to really develop good, deep, character driven stories and often results in a bit of derivative storytelling; but the pro is you can pull in new viewers any time, and people who miss a week can jump back in without skipping a beat.

A show like Lost is decidedly not like that. You really need to watch from season 1, episode 1, straight through if you want to understand the story. It's laid out more like a book, with each episode as a new chapter, rather than your typical buffet-style TV show. Just like you wouldn't jump into chapter 20 of a book and necessarily understand what's going on, or care about what's happening, jumping into this season's premiere would probably be disorienting, or just plain annoying.

That's the risk, though. If you haven't watched everything that led up to this episode, there's no reason for you to give a crap about these people. What to me is an emotional culmination of Sawyer's character probably looks like a masturbatory attempt to jerk tears to someone who hasn't seen this before. So I can understand why a first-time watcher would probably have checked out already, most likely wondering what the big deal was.

All I can say to that, unless you're in the habit of deciding the entire worth of a novel based on a random chapter, try watching shows like this from the beginning. It's not exactly tough; all the seasons of Lost are on Netflix Instant Viewing; and Hell they were all on Hulu, too. They made it very easy for you to read the beginning chapters before this season started, if you were intrigued. And honestly? I wish there were more shows like Lost. I'd rather have a rich story that makes me start at the beginning and work through it, rather than static characters and neatly wrapped episodes. Not that those aren't fun, mind. I just tend to appreciate the long-form storytelling a bit more, especially when it's done well. Because as much a first-time watcher couldn't care less about this Lost episode tonight, I'm enjoying it. And many of the detractors probably would, too, if they'd started at the beginning.

A Crisis of Conscience and Appetite

2010-01-16T13:43:00.002-05:00

There are days that I feel completely overwhelmed by all the things in the world I should be outraged about and trying to change. From international security crises, to race relations, to environmental concerns, labor struggles, child soldiers, child labor, human trafficking, drug trafficking, and I'm only just scratching the surface.

For all of that, one issue I've never really been concerned with before is the world of food. I just knew I loved to eat it, and while I empathized with vegetarians and some vegans, it just wasn't something I was fired up about. Vegans especially tended to piss the living hell out of me, but perhaps that's more due to the type of vegan I came to know early on. It's no real surprise that the punk subculture and the vegan subculture dovetailed nicely; both offered a chance to act holier than thou, yell at other people about how they're ruining the world, and generally be a counter-culture pain in the ass. But while I was all for being a political pain in the ass and jumping in a mosh pit, guerilla showings of slaughterhouse videos and yelling at people for eating cheeseburgers was never something I could get behind. So it was easy for that to be one of the issues I didn't get fired up about, and just go on eating my damn cheeseburgers.

But then I watched Food, Inc. And it fucked all of that up. Probably because the film was successful at being a piece of journalism less than a piece of propaganda, which those old vegan movies definitely were. And while they do show some of the nasty footage of what actually goes on in the factory farms, it was a piece of the story, and not an attempt to make you vomit every time you eat a steak. So I liked it, and it immediately fucked up my appetite. Seriously, I went home and threw out a bunch of my food (which was really pretty stupid, but I'm partial to grandiose acts of futility, so it was kinda right up my alley).

The only thing that I didn't like about the film was the end message that the most effective thing a person can do is change how they buy food. Nothing tends to piss me off more than the "you make your voice heard with your consumerism!" line that is so frequently thrown out there. Americans are so generous! We throw money at things that make us feel guilty! (Sometimes! But only if we have everything else we already want or get significant tax breaks!) But in this particular instance it was something that seemed to make sense, and it stuck in my head and fermented for a little while. Until I was starving last night and decided to run to the supermarket to get some food.

Now, let me start off by saying as bad as shopping for food while you're hungry is; it's so much worse when you hear the hamburgers screaming. I found myself frantically reading every label; throwing anything with a primary ingredient of high fructose corn syrup down in disgust, and hoping the things I picked up that claimed to be organic weren't deceiving me. And I walked out with a ton of organic food, and a couple of things that were not the best decisions (but it was a Giant, so I feel like I did pretty damn well for my first time out). Organic eggs; milk; bacon; ground turkey; and some chicken. And I felt okay about it (even though it was definitely more expensive at the register, though not as bad as I feared), but was curious how it was going to taste.

So this morning I made some organic eggs and bacon, with a glass of organic milk. And oh. my. god. I love bacon, and have always loved bacon. It is one of the most delicious foods there is. But organic bacon tasted even BETTER than the bacon I'm used to. I couldn't believe it. The eggs were good; the milk tasted better; and by all accounts I'm doing myself and the cause a service by eating it. Really, that tag-line would have worked better for me: Instead of voting with your wallet, vote with your stomach! That's a form of activism I can get behind. Or in front of. With a fork, knife, good pint of beer or glass of wine, and some salt and pepper.

A midnight rant/grumble

2009-12-04T00:06:00.002-05:00

There are two things that frustrate me to no end (well, more than that, but I'm only ranting about two right now):

1) Being judged not on my own actions but on those of others, and
2) People who are more willing to talk about me than to me

For the first, I understand that so much of our understanding as humans is based on our previous experiences. And, naturally, those experiences fuel our views of other people and situations. If we're fucked over early and often, we tend to get our hackles up easily. And conversely, someone who hasn't been taken advantage tends to extend trust or at least the benefit of the doubt more easily. But, those are first impressions and reactions. When you spend time with someone, you're supposed to let go of the initial judgements and notions, and fill in the unique details of the person based on their individual actions, words, and merits. So, to summarize, I don't care if someone is initially leery, distrustful, or even downright hateful of me. I can understand that, even if I may not like it. But if after days, weeks, and months I'm still being judged by the actions of completely different people? If the things I do, say, and believe in are constantly ignored in favor of what was done by lesser men in times past? Yeah, that pisses me off.

So, onto the second point. I understand that a lifetime of Model UN, Model Congress, and being a smart-ass who knows just enough to get into trouble means I like to debate and can get worked up pretty easily. But I go out of my way to listen, to stay open-minded, and to be willing to discuss pretty much anything. So, while I can understand an initial hesitance to discuss something with me, I like to think I'm generally pretty approachable. And that in the event that someone's upset with me, I want to be talked to. That's how you fix problems; straighten out misunderstandings; or just sometimes flat-out realize you've been an asshole and try to apologize & make amends.

So you can imagine my frustration when people I care about do both of these things to me, sometimes simultaneously. And you know what really rubs salt in the wound? Finding out these things that include you, and you would be willing to discuss, are brought up with others but not you. In fact, all you get is the reactions of some third party who got the benefit of the discussion, and naturally made their judgments accordingly.

That's it, no conclusion. Just wanted to write that all down. In closing, if anyone out there is close to me, just do me two small favors: Hold me accountable for the shit I do (which, believe me, is plenty) and not the shit done by others (past, present, or future). And if/when something does come up? Talk to me, for the love of God. Because I don't want bad blood to fester with people who matter to me; and honestly I'm a pretty approachable dude.

2009-09-13T16:09:00.002-05:00

I haven't been sleeping very well lately. It's been especially hard to get my mind to quiet down at night, and when I do get to sleep I seem to be having an inordinate amount of awful dreams. It's starting to take its toll, as I'm getting tired in the afternoons all the time, and then taking naps, which only exacerbates the problem. The only thing that seems to help a little is the occasional drink, but I've got no desire to start self-medicating in any fashion to sleep better, which means I have to get to the root of what's stressing me out to begin with.

To start with, September and October are not traditionally good months for me. The prospect of football, cool weather, hoodies, apple cider and my birthday are outweighed by the seeming tendency to lose friends, either literally or figuratively during this time of year. Plus, this is the fifth anniversary of Dave's death this year, which is crazy. I can't believe it's already been five years; and that I'm more or less in the same spot I was back then when it happened. Granted, I've managed to have a couple of interesting experiences, moved down to Maryland, and am in a much better emotional place than I was when that all happened; but on some levels I can't help but feel like I'm treading water. So, I'm sure part of dealing with this will be trying to keep positive, and working hard to get things like appealing to Rutgers, applying for new jobs, and exploring transfers if Rutgers doesn't pan out on my radar. Getting those things done should be a boost to the self-esteem and the overall ability to sleep well.

Speaking of feeling better, while my neck is stiff as hell right now from lifting weights this morning, it's not an all-together terrible thing. I need to be a lot stricter with myself on food and exercise. I feel better when I'm eating well (to say nothing of the benefit it has on my wallet), and hitting the gym regularly really does wonders for my energy levels, disposition, and ability to sleep soundly. If I can keep a regular schedule of going 5 days a week, I should start seeing some serious progress for myself physically, and start being better rested and more energetic during the day.

Though, even with the added hours in the gym, I need to start doing something with the bulk of my free time (once the applications and such are done, mind). I'm not pursuing anything creative, and that always has a tendency to make me feel lousy. Whether I tune the bass and start playing regularly; get serious about putting together a story or screen play; or find a way to start building something without spending all my money, I need to find a good outlet. An hour or two of videogames and reading books is fun, but just not cutting it anymore.

Though maybe getting a second job would be smart for me. I'd want to try to find something that wouldn't drive me too crazy, but still; the extra money and the time would both be good things. Mostly, I want to spend the next six months saving up for a good deposit were I to find a new apartment, and paying down my bills. Even with Christmas presents, birthdays, and not become an ascetic monk, I should be able to salt away a good amount of cash. And having the freedom to get out of renting my Aunt's basement and finding a place of my own would be huge. Particularly if said place is open to the idea of friendly pets.

Lastly, though certainly not least, I need to figure out what's going on with the current romantic-standings of my life. Seeing Marie has been great; I really love spending time with her, and even though things have been (what seems to me) exceptionally rough lately, I'm happy with her, and really wish I could be doing more to help. But, I can't honestly say I know what she feels about us, or whether I'm just a pleasant place-holder until she gets to a better spot in life. I don't think that's truth, mind; but my neuroses sure like to point out the possibility. Probably doesn't help that I've been moodier and withdrawn lately, and a little stressed about being tight on funds because of a change in HR policies at work, but nevertheless... it's hard to not know whether someone you care about takes you seriously, or to really know how they see you at all. And I certainly haven't made things easier by not asking or talking about it (which I plan to do, asap), but it's definitely played a prominent role in the lack of sleep and bad dreams department. I don't think I need or want things to change, necessarily (though a return of our more amorous behaivor from the current sabbatical would be most welcome); it would be helpful to know what's going on.

So, that seems like a solid game plan to me. Step 1, get things done with school & job upgrades. Step 2, stick to a stricter dietary & work-out plan: it results in feeling better, looking better, and sleeping better. Step 3, save money and budget with an eye towards having enough money to move out with in six months time (approximately). Step 4, get serious about a creative outlet, be it music/writing/or building something. Step 5, talk with Marie and let her know where I am, and ask her where she is. No sense being a pussy about it and trying to nip around the edges.

so glad nobody reads this thing, so I won't have to worry about hearing about it. But still, it's a good way to enumerate it all for myself, and have something to look at to keep on track. Updates to follow, perhaps. We shall see.

A thoroughly incredible day

2009-08-05T12:55:00.003-05:00

I know the word incredible has been watered-down in our everyday language. It's one of those adjectives that is so overused we forget what its original meaning and impact are. A quick definition looked up online defines incredible as: so extraordinary as to seem impossible; unbelievable.

So, with the full weight of the word's original meaning and intent in mind, I tell you that today really has been a thoroughly incredible day for me.

It started around midnight, when I was feeling profoundly nervous and convinced that things were not about to go well in a conversation I had been asked to go have. And while aspects of that conversation may have been sobering and pointed, with good cause, the end result was a moment of realized desires and happiness that I had not expected at all. Or, if I were to be less of a windbag about it, I went to go see a lovely woman who I thought was either about to put the brakes on hard, or simply kick me out of the car all together. What actually wound up happening was she said she'd by my girlfriend. So, that was an unexpected and pleasant surprise to say the least.

That alone had me feeling great this morning, as I woke up at 8am on a solid 5-6 hours of sleep, whistling a merry tune on the drive back to my place to get showered and ready for work. On a whim, I decided to step on the scale before I left, and see what if any effect my attempts at improved diet and exercise had bought. Now I can't give firm figures, but the last time I stepped on this same scale, I was weighing in a shade under 245. I believe my WiiFit corroborated that number as well, though I couldn't be certain. I do know I was walking around at 240 at the very least. So you can imagine my surprise and joy at finding I was down to 235. 5-10 pounds lost? Really? It's not like I've been 100% faithful to either the improved diet or going to the gym, but still: progress! I hadn't thought I could be in a better mood, but then there you have it, I was.

So, feeling energized and enthused, I strolled into work and made a few phone calls, including a personal one to finally set up a time to get the overgrown mop on my head trimmed (when you're terrified each morning that you may have crossed the threshold between shaggy & mullet in your sleep, things need to be taken care of). Lo and behold, not only is the person I had recommended to me working, but free to cut my hair after work today. Even better! (to say nothing of the pounds of hair that will probably get clipped off later). And so my work day continued to go well. Heck, I've only watched one teensy Daily Show episode while here today, as opposed to a movie and three episodes of Lost on some days. (kidding! If any of my lovely JHSPH colleagues are reading).

But wait, there's more. See, I heard back from a Dean at Rutgers I had written to seeking advice. He had been a great friend and mentor to me while I went through the self-destruction of my higher-education experience, and always gave me sound advice without false encouragement. I can't tell you how helpful he was to me, and now he'd written me back to offer advice once more on how I might be able to finally finish my undergraduate work at Rutgers. Even though it's an off-chance, his advice and encouragement (to say nothing of his offer to continue writing, and advising me no matter where this particular appeal leads) were not just energizing, but touching.

I was pleased to pass that info along to my parents; I called my Mom to let her know, and forwarded the e-mail to my Dad, who had done me the favor of proofreading the original message I sent seeking help. To then hear back the same kind of sober, thoughtful encouragement from him by itself would have been enough; but he also urged me to not let my communication with the Dean fall by the wayside. It seems to him like an offer of mentorship; and in a week where he'd lost a lifetime mentor of his own, he expressed his hope that it would work out well for me too.

Which brings me to the memory of Marshall. Marshall was a long-time teacher in North Jersey, and taught at Linden when both my parents went through that school. He was the only teacher who ever flunked my Mom, and not because she was at the bottom of the class; but because she hadn't worked up to what he knew was her potential. Not many teachers care enough to do something like that sincerely; and you almost certainly would never see one try something like that now. I don't have any specific anecdotes about his working with my Dad, but I know throughout all the roller-coaster that was my father's education, Marshall was there for him, trying to help him stay on track and get where he wanted to go.

When my Mom transferred to Seton Hall after a couple years of Bucknell, he took her in. He was as good as family to us, and was a cross between a grandfather and uncle to me. I can remember him coming over, when I was younger and he was healthier, and making me play my sax for him. I've played a lot of different pieces, in a lot of different venues in my short-lived musical career: from competing @ Giants Stadium with the marching band to jazz bands, sax quartets, and orchestral pieces; even a few punk shows at the various Jersey dives. But playing for Marshall easily felt as great as any of those other performances.

He was an amazing man, and I wish I could have spent more time with him... But since I can't thank him in person, I'll just do it here.

Thanks Marshall. For being there for me and my family for all those years. You were an incredible person, and made all our lives better by being in them. I'll miss you.

Another week gone by...

2009-07-17T18:27:00.002-05:00

And another few interesting stories to tell, as I sit here on my couch in just a pair of basketball shorts, watching Season 5 of The Wire. The only reason I'm not on the road at the moment headed back home to Jersey is because I seem to have quite literally run out of clean clothes. So once this load's dry, I'm hitting 95 and get back perhaps before Saturday. As much as I would have enjoyed hanging out in Baltimore, and possibly hitting up Artscape, when the brother asks for a birthday trip to the track; it's time to ship it on back home for a day.

But enough blather about me: onto Justin's Exciting Interview Stories of the Week:

First story is about a woman who, sweet as she was, was slower than a turtle in molasses. I mean this girl would take at least 30 seconds to answer any question you asked her. Of course, I brought this on myself when I was asked if I'd take an extra interview with a little over an hour before my next scheduled one, and said "sure, things only take 50 min. for me anyway." Yeah...dumb move on my part. Took an hour to get through the first of three parts alone; I had to put the girl on the automated section so I could call the next interview I had. Almost 2 hours later, she just finished the automated part (which typically takes 15-20 min for the average participant) so I called back to finish the last two sections I had to lead her through. And in the middle of it, her mother starts yelling and picks up the phone to yell at me about how this is taking too damn long and what's wrong with me. Now, there were two ways this could go:

"Lady, it is not my fault your daughter is either too dumb or strung out to answer my questions in anything resembling a reasonable amount of time."

"Ma'am, I understand this is taking longer than usual, and typically our interviews only take an hour. But as I explained to your daughter, if she needs a break we can stop and finish later."

Yeah, I took the reasonable approach, and eventually got out (2 hours later than I should have) and took my ass to the bar for a crab cake sandwich and a beer.

Our next story is about a nice woman who had me over to interview her at her apartment. Now, for whatever reason, people never think to mention that they have pets until they're opening the front door. Luckily, I like dogs, so no harm no foul for me. But she seemed a little tweaked after both her dog and her cat decided to park on top of me to get petted, and wouldn't go back to her when beckoned. And then I got glared at by the hubbie when he rolled in after work. Really? Glare at the interviewer who's checking his phone trying to get the hell home so he can meet up with someone he'd actually like to spend time with? Oh well.

Those're the highlights for now; though I can say the constant reschedulings and cancellations are getting old. But, with time will come more stories. So until next time...

Adventures in the City

2009-07-10T09:21:00.002-05:00

I've gotten the feeling that I should be documenting my recent interview work, or at least the more interesting tidbits, so that I can remember them all later with some detail. Obviously this is mostly a self-indulgent exercise, as I haven't used this blog much at all for quite some time and would be surprised if anyone bothered to check it. But why start something new when you can just repurpose something old?

So anyway, names and locations are obviously removed to protect the privacy of the interviewees, and the name of my study/employer/etc. will also be withheld for the same reason. Nevertheless, here's a few of the highlights so far:

- Interviewed one person over the phone who was clearly smoking weed the entire time he was talking to me. I could hear his lighter in the background; friends in the background were laughing about it; he tried to speak while holding his breath; and if the types of answers changed he was at least 30 seconds behind me. I mean, kudos for pulling through the whole interview, but damn if it wasn't a little annoying for me. Though that may have been due more to the part where I was trying to decipher answers through the overwhelming static of what had to be a prehistoric cordless phone.

- Interviewed two people in the same day with little kids the same age; one of which was expecting a new one soon; not more than a few blocks from each other. It was eerie how similar these two were, from their hair to their faces to their houses to their speech, right down to the fact that apparently there is no orthodontist or dentist in their neighborhood. I mean seriously, these poor two were so bad they could star in a BBC historical production with the right accent.

- One interviewee thought to warn me he had a pit bull as he was opening his front door (luckily I couldn't care less, and the dog was a sweetheart) and then proceeded to tell me how he was late because he had $1,000 stereo system snatched from his car that morning. Nice enough guy, though I'm more pissed that he held onto a piece of paperwork I was supposed to bring back, and haven't been able to pick it up yet. Sucks for me.

- This one interview was pretty easy, the guy was real nice and easy to talk to, seemed a little down but nothing big. And at one point he hands me his business card (which was actually natural at the moment) and then reconsiders and hands me a stack, telling me he'd hook me up if I needed some car-detailing done, or any of the company's other services. I couldn't help but laugh, then had the dude come check out my car from the window: my POS little Chevy was in desperate need of some work; but you don't detail a mess like that. I did pass out a few of the cards though, since he was a cool guy.

That's it for the first two weeks, as best I can reckon. More to come, perhaps. And there's always the chance I'll think of something alltogether different worth writing on here. But I wouldn't bet on it.

Why I <3 Joss Whedon

2009-05-09T11:25:00.003-05:00

I had big plans for this morning/early afternoon. I was going to explore the park here in Catonsville; go for a hike; clean up and do some laundry; maybe sit outside and read a book. But the first thing I had to do was eat. I was really, really hungry. Probably some combination of my stomach being empty and angry with me for all the alcohol I put in it last night, but either way I ended up making a sandwich and sitting down looking for something to watch while I ate. And then I remembered that being at the bar last night for all the carousing and watching various sporting events meant I missed an episode of Dollhouse. So, thanks to Hulu, I knew exactly what to do while I ate my tasty little ham & swiss wrap.

And now that I just finished this episode, I'm impressed to the point of needing to write down my thoughts about it, and about its creator. The rest of the plans are going out the window, because I don't think my brain will support me letting this slide; it'll just gnaw at me until I get it out, otherwise.

This whole thought process needs to start with an older, failed show of Whedon's that Fox let on the air for a little bit, and then butchered and yanked without the benefit of a full season's experience. I can't remember how I learned about Firefly, but the feedback I'd seen for it was all so overtly positive (then again Geek fans usually get that way) I ordered the season's DVDs and sat down to watch them. And I absolutely loved it; still do actually (and just finished rewatching it less than a week ago). I watched it in order, and had a deep appreciation for the depth of the characters, the dialogue, and the fact that Whedon seemed eager to mix a space-cowboy opera with some philosophical musings. I mean, having one of the most esteemed and respected professions be what amounts to a high-end call girl? Trying to discuss political questions of how much freedom is enough; and what do you do to get it? To say nothing of introducing Summer Glau (I'm still mildly uncomfortable with someone that attractive acting both crazy and bad-ass, and then doing it again in that Terminator series...it's unsettling). And I really couldn't fathom how this fantastic show had crashed and burned so badly.

Then I remembered it was owned by Fox. And Fox is awful, almost to a fault. I started reading to see if the show had a comeback in it, and saw that they'd been airing episodes out of order, yanked it halfway through, and never really gave it a chance to build a following (which it undoubtedly would have, as evidenced by how vehemently its small hardcore base was braying when it died).

And eventually I realized it was, in fact, dead and not coming back. And all that tasty character development and slow-burning plot was dead and gone, save for the seedy underbelly of *shudder* fan-fiction. But I kept an eye on Whedon's work, because I was impressed with it (and really had always enjoyed Buffy and later Angel, though never was absorbed in it the way others were). So when Serenity was finally released, I was stoked to see it in theatres, and while still a little let down that so many of the plotlines had to either be abandoned, or come to a rather abrupt end (Okay, cool, so we know what the Reavers were and where they came from, but what's the deal with Shepard Book? Aside from being, you know, corpseified) it felt like the best ending to the story I could get, so I liked it.

And of course when Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog came out last year during the strike, I was all over it. And once again, I really enjoyed it. It had some super-hero/super-villain action, goofy songs, NPH & Nathan Fillion, a cute red-head, and an evil-mastermind horse. (Plus an apparent organized labor structure for villainy. A union that robs others' pensions to fund its own? Brilliant!) What the Hell else could I ask for? Hell, I spent a month trying to put together a Dr. Horrible costume for Halloween, and ultimately gave up mostly because I couldn't find the right lab-coat, and it was wayy easier to buy some sunglasses and a hat and be Elwood Blues.

But I digress. So fast-forward to earlier this year, and I recall sitting in the break room at the old job reading a magazine (probably EW?) and seeing an article on this new Joss Whedon show starting on Fox called Dollhouse. And I thought "huh, that's awesome, I'll have to check it out." But the article seemed pretty down on it so far, and alluded to a recurring of old struggles between Whedon & Fox. They wanted more action, he wanted something more philosophical; and now apparently independently producing Dr. Horrible during the strike gave him a real taste for cutting out the middleman and having control over the whole deal. And as a result, it said the show seemed dischordant so far, and struggling to find its voice. But out of a bit of trust for Whedon's work, and some odd loyalty to writers I enjoy, I decided to watch it anyway. And you know what? The first couple episodes were pretty dischordant. The action was good, the snappy dialogue was there, but it didn't feel put-together yet. But hell, it was free and I could watch it online whenever I wanted, so I kept up with it.

Now I can't tell you when it started to happen (mostly because I don't feel like re-watching the whole season just yet) but at some point it started to come together. Maybe it was the kidnapping episode, where Echo finally wasn't just being gussied up to look sexy and kick ass. I mean she even had asthma in that imprint, I think. But the show started clicking, the characters started filling out, and I still felt like Whedon was getting to explore some deeper philosophical questions in the mix of it (which really only ever helps a story, if done right). And now that I've watched what I'm relatively sure was a season finale, which gets right into the thick of talking about the nature of self; of identity; and of personality, while simultaneously showing attractive people beating the crap out of each other in well-choreographed scenes. And all I can think after watching it is how fantastically glad I am that Fox is running it, and hopefully will renew it again for next year. This is the kind of thing that I want to see and consume; the kind of show that can spark great conversations between viewers, and really screw with your head while being entertaining. And it has a guy who uses Muay Thai, which is always sweet.

And I guess that's the gist of what my brain was trying to regurgitate. I'll confess, I'm feeling a nap coming on, and do have to at least finish cleaning up, so I'm less invested in this than I was at first (and it helps that I know nobody could possibly be following a stagnant blog by me anyway), but I'm not looking to delve into a reading of individual episodes or the series as a whole on here anyway. I'd need to watch it again to do that. I do think, though, that guys like Joss Whedon & J.J. Abrams and Aaron Sorkin have shown the real power of a TV series. Ultimately a movie is like a short story; you have to cram all of its characters, its introduction, its rise, its climax, and its conclusion in somewhere between 90 and 150 minutes (unless you're Peter Jackson, in which case you can get more like 240). And consequently, if you want to show deep characters, you need to limit the cast and focus on a few, and really limit your angles and plotlines as well so as to avoid congestion. But a good TV series? It's like a slowly unfolding novel. Each episode is a chapter, that can be used to focus on a particular thread of story; a couple of characters, or moving the central plot forward. You can take detours for an episode away from the main action to highlight some of your characters, or to explore or introduce a new angle. And the whole work slowly evolves as the episodes progress. It's really a brilliant format, and all the better recognized on channels like HBO & Showtime that allow for uninterrupted episodes, and fewer restrictions on content and language (though really you don't need boobs and swearing to make good TV, and we all know the FCC doesn't give a crap about violence; just sex and naughty words).

So, in closing, I would urge the hypothetical reader to get into Dollhouse now, because it's really been great so far, and if you liked any of Whedon's old work, or just like a good smart show, it's worth seeing. And if you haven't seen Firefly or Dr. Horrible before, I would similarly urge you to quit wasting time and do it. This is the kind of work that inspires me to write, and to work on telling stories. And I've run out of ways to praise it. Hopefully that's enough.

2008-02-28T21:05:00.000-05:00

This weekend, among other things, included an all-day experience at the AMC "Best Picture Showcase" in Times Square. While watching all 5 Best Picture nominees on Saturday, the esteemed Nicole Lyn Pesce of the New York Daily News and I corroborated on an attempt to review all five films and decide on which one we felt should win the pleasant little gold man on a pedastal. So, for the hell of it, even though the awards were given out last night (and, in all honesty, are pretty much ridiculous anyway) I'm going to indulge myself in write-up of my notes and scores for each of the films.

First, an explanation on the scoring system. Points were awarded based on five categories with varying values. The categories were:

Cinematography: This category has a total of 7 possible points, to be awarded on use of skill in the filmmaking process. Lighting, camera movement, editing, angles, and the like were all taken into account and graded accordingly. Slightly less value was given to this category because, while it's a good deal of fun for me, it's only a part of what matters and should be closely linked to the second category...

Sound: Only a total possible 3 points here, but mostly to round out the director's contribution to the film when coupled with cinematography. Both diagetic and non-diagetic sound is included, from music to effects, and even the use of silence.

Story: The screenwriter's slice of the pie, a possible 10 points can be awarded for the structure of the film's plot. The quality of the tale being told; any exciting uses of or deviations from convention; and the development of the film's characters are all components that were considered in this category (though not necesarilly the only ones).

Acting: Another possible 10 points for the work of the cast. Pretty self explanatory; how well the ensemble as a whole not only carries their individual roles but interacts together was considered when assigning points for this portion. Points to be deducted for hammy-ness, unbelievability, or negative impressions.

And last but not least, Fun: How much enjoyment did watching this film actually give me? Would I recommend it to friends and family? Would I want to buy it? Would I watch it again? Did it keep me excited and engaged? While the category means much more than just did it make me smile and happy, this last category strives to quantify how well the film worked on a whole. A film like Schindler's List, for example, while a weighty and powerful film, would not normally be considered something "fun" to watch. But it's power, quality, and the fact that I would insist everyone should watch it at some point in their lives would earn it a 10. On the other hand, Star Wars and Indiana Jones would earn a similar mark, for totally different reasons.

So, that's the rubric that was used, and the following (from lowest to highest) are the scores awarded to each of the five films. Nominees included the Coen Brothers' No Country For Old Men, Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood, Joe Wright & Christopher Hampton's Atonement, Jason Reitman & Diablo Cody's Juno, and Tony Gilroy's Michael Clayton.

5th place: Atonement

Cinematography: 7
Atonement is nothing if not gorgeously filmed. Wright's camerawork is masterful. For example, the French beach sequence is a single long shot that follows each of the soldiers, and occasionally lets the camera follow points of interest independently, is a brilliant piece of work. Also, the scenes at the fountain have a beauty to them that is noteworthy. Little left to be desired on a technical aspect from this film, hence the maximum points.

Sound: 3
The soundtrack to this film fits wonderfully. The classic score melded with accents like the typewriter keys at key moments do a fantastic job of accenting the film. Loved the music and little effect notes to this film, so a full compliment of points here as well.

Story: 7
Really, I felt the story here left quite a bit to be desired. Personally I could care less for the standard aristocratic, british, star-crossed lovers angle from the beginning. Couple that with the fact that after the first act the rest of the film makes little to no point, and the story is fairly weak. That being said, some of the bits of play with the chronology of the story were interesting. Playing a scene through once and then back again from a different perspective is interesting, though gets stale as its re-used again and again.

Acting: 8
The acting in this film often felt over the top to me. Keira Knightley and James McAvoy both felt hammy to me throughout the film. I cared little for either of them, and their characters just came across as flat and pretentious to me. Briony, in the 2 earlier stages of her life, felt equally plastic to me. The only bright spot was the work of Vanessa Redgrave as Briony the elder. Her emotions were the only ones that seemed genuine to me, and so she saved the cast from losing more than two points.

Fun: 6
I often caught myself wishing this movie was done already, or spacing out, or just really disliking what I was watching. The entire piece felt like a masturbatory pretentious british period piece designed to earn Oscar nominations, and little else. I really could have been just fine having never seen it; I would certainly not go see it again or ever buy it on DVD, and I would only recommend it to someone who had no real other options. The production values and the quality of cinematography were the film's only saving graces in this regard.

Pesce's Peanut Gallery: While some of the scenes were absolutely gorgeous -- the long shot on the French beach and the flowering English countryside surrounding the elite estate were jaw dropping -- I need more than just a pretty face. I need some depth; evidence that there's some wheels turning behind that fair facade, and frankly, this film didn't deliver. I didn't care about the characters -- and I'm typically the sort of sap who can find a reason to get teared up watching anything from "Terminator 2" to "Bring It On." The only thing appealing about Keira Knightley's character was that dazzling green dress she was wearing on The Night That Changed Everything. I just wasn't rooting for the star-crossed lovers the way I pulled for her and Mr. Darcy in "Pride and Prejudice" -- SPOILER ALERT: their deaths put EVERYONE out of their misery, including the characters themselves. The only thing I watched with any interest through this manipulative pile of Oscar-grubbing manure was the time ...

Total Score: 31/40

4th Place: There Will Be Blood

Cinematography: 7
PTA's camerawork is phenomenal. The establishing shots on the opening scene of the mountain range are phenomenal, as is the lighting used throughout the film. The cramped, dark scenes inside the holes they've dug; the brilliance of a firey oil derrick; and the composition of the shots in Daniel Plainview's mansion at the end are all amazing bits of camerawork. Really a beautifuly shot film, no doubt about it. No hesitation in all seven points here.

Sound: 3
Personally, I found the soundtrack to this film outstanding. The tension in the strings always fit perfectly; and the sound of the digging and of the beatings resonated perfectly. Nothing bad to say about anything in this category.

Story: 7
While individual scenes were able to really grasp my attention, on the whole the film's only real focus was on Daniel Plainview's character. So much of the film was left unresolved; the only real focus was on the man's villainy and greed. All the tensions of family; of his relationship with Eli; so much of these threads are just left loose and hanging at the end. There was little cohesiveness to the story, and that ultimately left me feeling a little unfulfilled.

Acting: 9
Now don't get me wrong; Daniel Day Lewis was phenomenal. His work alone was simply incredible, and felt genuinely creepy while maintaining notes of a kind of jealous affection for family, and that never-ending greed and urge to destroy all comers. Paul Dano was similarly masterful in his portrayal of Eli and Paul (mostly Eli, of course); the young would-be televangelist is brilliantly greedy and power-hungry himself, while still maintaining just enough pride and fear to make his actions with Plainview resonate. As for the rest of the cast, a solid performance to be sure. There was room for improvement on the rest of the cast, but the leads were fantastic.

Fun: 8
I enjoyed watching this film, and its gruesomeness and Daniel Day Lewis's performance were more than enough to keep me interested throughout. But ultimately, it felt a little flat. The story simply drops off with no real resolution, but nor does it leave any kind of contemplative or open-ended note of interest. It's not a film I would particularly care to see again, nor would I buy it on DVD; but I would recommend it to anyone who I thought would enjoy it. A good show, to be sure.

Peanut Gallery: I was extremely disappointed. The perfectly-crafted pieces were there: the cinematography, the music and the acting were all top-notch. If only the storyline(s) could have been woven into the mix with more finesse. I recommend checking out "Blood" to learn why DDL scored his Oscar; as for what else you're supposed to get out of it ... well, oil barrons are bad, and televanglists aren't above getting their hands dirty, either, which can spark an interesting discourse on our country's political climate, I suppose, but is nothing incredibly original.

Total Score: 36/40

Tied Second Place: Juno

Cinematography: 6
Jason Reitman does a lot of awesome little things throughout the course of this film. The _American Splendor_ esque drawing seques at the beginning of the film are a neat touch, to be sure. The slow zoom out at the last scene is amazingly poignant; the framing and the barely noticeable movement really add to the emotion of that scene, I think. Reitman also shoots the sequence when Juno pulls to the side of the road alongside the train tracks very well. Nothing particularly daring on the camera work here, but I really loved the attention to detail.

Sound: 3
A perfect soundtrack. The blends of diagetic and non-diagetic music work very well, and the choice of songs always have the right mix of quirk and cleverness to really compliment the film's tone. I can't think of anything I would change in this aspect, and it's a soundtrack I would own.

Story: 10
Where Atonement tries so hard to invoke an emotional response through what feels like manipulation, Juno succeeds and seems to do so effortlessly. The dialogue is quick, fun, and well written (reminds me of Kevin Smith). Add all that to a refreshing look at a subject that usually gets people's hackles raised, and you have a really brilliantly funny story. The fact that they manage to have a 16 year old girl pregnant; contemplate abortion; decide not to; and never be anything but supported by her parents and STILL keep you sympathetic towards the boyfriend without ever denouncing sex itself? Amazing.

Acting: 8
It's not that I can point to a poor performance on anyone's part; I really can't. It's just that the roles in general don't seem to be particularly challenging or exciting. Maybe it's more of a credit than anything to the actors that they seem so natural in their roles, but none of the characters seem to really push the ability of the actors, so I felt obligated to dock a couple points. Everyone was really good, just not blow-you-out-of-the-water good. Particular kudos to Ellen Page who manages to come across as fantastically sincere in Juno's lowest moments (the van on the side of the road, crying in bed, while Mark is being a jerk, etc.)

Fun: 10+
The plus has no numeric value here, but I just want to emphasize how much fun this film is. I was laughing out loud in the theatre even on my second viewing. Not only would I go see it again, buy it on DVD, and recommend it to just about everyone; this is the kind of film I could see buying the poster of and tossing up on a wall and putting the soundtrack in my CD collection. Seriously, this movie was just an amazing amount of fun to watch.

Peanut Gallery: I actually enjoyed this movie even more on a second viewing than I did on the first, which is a rare feat. The writers nailed the dialogue so naturally that it's downright eerie; "food baby" was already a staple in my friends' vocabulary before catching this flick, and those personalized touches like the hamburger phone and the orange Tic Tacs make the characters lovable and identifiable in a natural, effortless way that the other nominees tried so hard to emulate, but ultimately weren't as successful in. Similar to last year's "Little Miss Sunshine," you leave this movie just feeling GOOD - and in today's world, there's nothing wrong with that.

Total Score: 37/40

Tied Second Place: Michael Clayton

Cinematography: 6
Tony Gilroy does some really neat camera work in here. I'm glad he moved away from the shaky-cam motion-sickness inducing work he did on the last 2 Bourne films, but Michael Clayton has the same tension to it without making me nauseous. The lighting was always awesome; the editing while Arthur is chatting on the phone with Henry; the rotating camera on the end sequence on the escalator; all of those shots are composed and edited really well. My personal favorite sequence is the editing between Karen's preparation in front of her mirror and her live interview. Very cool work here.

Sound: 2
Nice use of music and effect, and good use of silence as well. Useful, but never mind-blowing or particularly memorable.

Story: 10
Love the chronological layout of the film. Readdressing the opening scene with new knowledge works really well (again, one major scene works well here; whereas Atonement's multiple uses of the technique get stale fast). The different threads of the story come together well; Michael's family tensions, his money woes, and the u-north case all flow together well without feeling like an artificial tie-up of loose ends. Gripping from beginning to end, and thankfully an ending that doesn't leave you wanting to tear your hair out. Great writing here.

Acting: 9
George Clooney and Tom Wilkinson are almost always gold when it comes to acting. Top-notch performance on both their parts, as well as by Sydney Pollock. But particular kudos have to go to Tilda Swinton for her work as Karen. The inner turmoil of the character; the alternate ruthlessness and crushing weight of anxiety and guilt; this is a beautifully nuanced and powerful performance. I'm really glad she won the Oscar for best supporting actress, because she earned it.

Fun: 10
It's a no-brainer for me here. I was on the edge of my seat for a lot of the film; I got into the story; I'm already planning to add it to my collection and want to watch it again; I've recommended it to anyone willing to listen to me...what else can I say? Not a funny-fun film, but an awesome ride and a fantastic piece of work.

Peanut Gallery: I was still half asleep when we climbed into our seats to catch "Clayton," which was the first of the five films shown during the Oscar showcase last weekend -- but not even 15 minutes into it, I was already wide awake and gripping the arm rests on my chair. Clooney always delivers, but the rest of the cast easily kept up the pace in this fast-moving, thinking man's thriller. I already can't wait to see it again to try and pick up on the clues I may have missed the first time around.

Total Score: 37/40

First Place: No Country for Old Men

Cinematography: 7
The Coen Brothers know what they're doing behind the lens. Look at the shot when Sheriff Bell is about to enter the motel room in El Paso, the way the light filters through the blown-out lock hole. Or the majestic shots in the desert; the use of light and of darkness in particular at the battleground in the desert; these are all just brilliantly crafted scenes and shots. The whole film embodies the brutal aesthetic of the story itself.

Sound: 3
One of the best things about this film is the total lack of soundtrack. Seriously, there's NO music here. Diagetic or non-diagetic. It's so tense at times that it does more than any screeching strings or frentic-percussion could to enhance the viewer's experience. Couple that with the sound effect of Anton's shotgun, the impact of the pneumatic-spike on skulls and doors, and you have a brutally efficient sound (and lack of sound) use.

Story: 10
This is an amazing story. The development of Anton's character; Llewelyn's self-sufficiency and hint of hubris; Sheriff Bell's fear; all these characters are not only beautifully developed but interact fabulously. The story keeps the viewer engaged and tense, but takes its time screwing with you. Even the ending, with Sheriff Bell's story of his father trying to tend a fire in the darkness and the cold, is powerful while not being completely dark. It's not that there's no hope left, it's more that there is great courage needed just to go out against these depths of darkness like Anton Chigurh.

Acting: 9
Don't get me wrong here. Javier Bardem is flat-out amazing. Same goes for Josh Brolin. Tommy Lee Jones is at his best here, though at teams his deadpan seems to clash with his supposed fear at the work of Anton. The rest of the supporting cast is solid, and certainly does a good job. Just not quite as good overall as some of the other films, and I could see room for improvement on the whole.

Fun: 10
I'm not really sure how to describe the kind of fun this film provided. There Will Be Blood often makes you wary of Daniel Plainview, but Anton Chigurh is flat-out terrifying. His insanity and his ruthlessness are amazing to watch; and really so is Llewelyn. The man's methodical nature and seeming coldness, only to explode in defense of his wife, is amazing to watch. And the scene at the motel? Really tears the rug right out from under you. Seriously, it's just an amazing film. Will buy it, will watch it many times, will recommend it to everyone, and wouldn't be surprised to see it make some film students' curriculum eventually.

Peanut Gallery: By far my favorite of the five. I went into the showcase convinced I was rooting for "Old Country" for best picture, and a second viewing solidified my opinion. The nail-biting suspence matched by Javier Bardem's creepy badass, Tommy Lee Jones' familiar sheriff and Josh Brolin's resourceful rogue all round out a really great story that's played out before the beautiful backdrop of what's left of the Old West. The scene between Bardem and Brolin in the hotel (seeing the shadow pause just before the shut door, and then the squeaky screech as the hallway lightbulb is unscrewed) is absolutely terrifying. Well done!

Final Score: 39/40

Well, that wraps it up. What I found interesting was that before I saw No Country again, I was convinced that I was going to be deciding between Juno and Michael Clayton for which was my best picture pick. But just seeing No Country really blew me away. It was an awesome day of movie watching, I only wish we had taken our dinner break during Atonement instead of Juno. Seriously, no more pretentious British crap, please! I just can't take any more.

brain-pains

2008-01-09T22:41:00.000-05:00

My head's been killing me lately.

I guess it's probably a result of the usual myriad of stresses in life. Fretting about law school apps; getting more caught up in my job than I always promise myself I will; freaking out about making sure I graduate this spring; trying to motivate myself to go run around the block or something; all of these things pile up in my head and could easily get cramped and cause the dull ache right between my eyes that doesn't seem to go away unless it's fed, beer-ed, or put to sleep.

Maybe though it's some sort of subconscious attempt to kick me in the ass. I'm not doing enough of what I want to, and that's pretty obvious. The bass is still picking up dust on the porch, even though every time I listen to "Music from Big Pink" or hear a good line in a Cake song I swear I'll pull it out and tune it up again. I don't write much of anything at all lately; and when I try to I often find my mind a total blank (for once). And the sedentary lifestyle I've developed certainly doesn't help anything.

Not that I'm complaining, mind. I know I'm drained from almost 4 straight weeks of overtime and only a few days off in between. The paychecks are useful, but the constant dreams of irate customers and Computers in need of work are less than soothing to my weary bones. The days off help, but usually they're mostly spent recharging, and before I know it, I'm back at work wondering where the time slipped off to.

Don't get me wrong though, I'm not complaining. Far from it. I've been really stoked to have gotten as much of my debt paid down as I have recently. To say nothing of the good times that I had on Christmas, new years, and the stolen days in between with friends and loved ones. I may be a bit weary, but I'm happy. Things are looking fairly good, with positive steps to be taken in the near future (hopefully). Nothing brightens the horizons like the prospects of a new frontier after all, and DC and Law School do shine pretty brightly in the distance.

Right now we're just talking about the headache. A dull little throb in the center of the forehead that seems to want to remind me of something, but has no interest in giving me any details. It's just going to throb until it gets what it wants, and that's my problem.

At least I've been back to the theatre recently. I'm too far removed from the films to write any semblance of a good review, but I can say that I really enjoyed both _Charlie Wilson's War_ and _Juno_. It was really something to see Aaron Sorkin writing well again, after the mess that was Studio 60 at times. And Juno was a real treat, with a surprisingly awesome cast. Both absolutely worth a $10 ticket and some of your time, if you're interested.

But I guess good films a couple of times aren't enough food for the beast in my frontal lobe. It's obviously craving something else. Is it Good Eats? Should my appreciation for Alton Brown's work be translating into more cooking? It's no secret I love to eat, so perhaps doing more on the supply side of that equation would give me some equilibrium. That seems vaguely plausible.

In the end though, I'm pretty sure it's just restlessness. This time in between is always difficult; waiting for the important stuff to start again, and feeling like the wheels are just spinning in the meantime. Maybe that's what this sensation is; tread marks on the inside of my skull while my brain does burnouts and waits for somewhere to race off to. Maybe it really would ease the pain to spend a couple hours sitting down with the 'ol 4-string and amp and tinkering out the line from "Lonesome Suzie," or "Italian Leather Sofa." Heck, I should break out the Alto and work on my chops, even if they'll squeak like Hell in the meantime. Others can deal with it; I miss the sound of a good horn reverberating through the house. To say nothing of my strong desire to play with other musicians again, and to have horns be involved in whatever project may arise.

But like I said, we're just talking headaches here. And it seems like a pretty good time for me to pop a couple aspirin and see if I can't shut mine up for the night. Maybe tomorrow I'll figure out what to feed it, but for now, I'll settle for forcibly shutting it the fuck up.

Three fucking years? Seriously?

2007-10-02T18:35:00.000-05:00

I honestly can't comprehend it. It simultaneously feels like it was yesterday and yet thirty years ago. But three years seems bizarre. I don't know how to wrap my head around the fact that Dave will have been dead for 3 years as of Friday. Or that Matt died a year ago later this month. Or that 3 years ago I was beginning my descent into being kicked out of Rutgers 3 times. Or any of the other myriad of awful things that happened since that day; including an awful fallout with Jen, followed by reconciliation, then fall out, then reconciliation, then REALLY bad fallout, finally with another reconciliation (I promise, no more me-being-an-asshole fallouts! Seriously!). Or the Amy-debacle, from Ireland to apartment to me hating everything and everyone including me. Or maybe a little bit of everything. Seriously, what the fuck people?

And so it is that I've come to hate the month of October. Oh, don't get me wrong. October used to be awesome. I mean, my birthday, halloween, cousin's birthdays, aunt's birthday, the good friends trio of birthdays (russ on the 7th, me on the 12th, jeff on the 17th), ron's b-day, football seasons kicking into high gear (both Packers and Rutgers), the near beginning of basketball season, and the always-fun (at least in my head) Baseball post-season beginning. October has a lot going for it. Except somewhere along the line it decided people I care about should die during October, and I should have awful experiences about this time every year, and oh yeah, I should get a nasty cold/sinus infection the first week of October without fail.

So far, only the cold has reared its ugly head. But I went to see my grandfather today, and damn if he doesn't look closer to death than ever. He reminds me of my grandmother right before she passed. It was really creepy to see him. His skin was like parchment paper; I swear I could almost see right through him. Forget recognizing me, he couldn't even talk. Just sort of grunted or wheezed in response to questions. It was really fucking hard to watch. And now, of course, every time a phone rings or buzzes I jump about 3 feet in the air convinced he's dead or dying. Which, you know, is awesome for the nerves.

I don't know, I'm on my 4th Harvest Moon right now and while I feel pretty good and warm, it's hard to imagine how the fuck I'm going to keep dealing with this month. I mean, Kean is easy...like, fucking high school easy. And all I really have to do is keep showing up and remembering to complete my asinine assignments on time. After that, I should have a few letters of recommendation and with a decent LSAT score I could be in DC or wherever else I might get in by this time next year. Then again; I might still be working at a retail store, waiting for the next big piece of bad news, miserable and drunk by myself in my parent's house. Somehow, I don't see a lot of in-between on this one, and that's simultaneously creepy and completely unimportant.

Ugh, I don't know what else there is to say really. It's October 2nd. Friday I'll probably be drunker or crazier than this. Next Friday I'll hopefully be really drunk. And if I'm lucky no-one will die before the 31st. More likely though, I'll have been to another wake and funeral in the month of october, and I'll be lucky to have not put myself behind the 8-ball in every single class.

Did I mention I was in an accident recently too? Yeah, I dinged the metro up pretty good and don't have a mode of transportation to myself at the moment. Even more awesome, right?

I give up. House is on, this beer needs to be drank, and I'm tired of writing. Not to mention I'm out of things to say. Happy fucking October everyone.

The Time Traveler's Wife

2007-08-29T10:44:00.001-05:00

Wednesday, August 29th, 2007 (Justin is 23)

I would make an awful book or film reviewer. Though the fault is not in my inability to appreciate or understand the mediums; nor an inability to articulate my opinions. The problem is that I am simply too easily swept into the story and find myself enamored with texts and films that other reviewers can more objectively pick apart. My disbelief is already suspended on most days, so it is not difficult for a writer or director to have me throw it out entirely and simply accept whatever premise I've been handed, however ludicrous it may or may not be. This unfortunate tendency to ignore flaws has likely dampened one potential career path, but fortunately has increased my love for and consumption of both forms of art a great deal.

There is another difficulty presented by my propensity to immersion, though. Indeed, it's a simple arithmetic relationship that causes me no end of difficulty. For if I am easily immersed in works that do a poor job creating a convincing environment (or are just poorly written or shot); then it must follow that when the craft is executed beautifully I manage to pass beyond a relationship of reader to text or viewer to film and somehow emotionally fuse with the story on what certainly feels like a more fundamental level.

The Time Traveler's Wife has, not fifteen minutes ago, granted me release in exchange for completing the absorption of its story. It has been 3 days technically since I began it; and it started in the early hours of Monday while sitting exhausted on the New Jersey transit North-East Corridor Line heading for home. I had every reason to be only tenuously connected to consciousness and the book I had borrowed; but instead was drawn in immediately and unable to stop. The premise was not difficult, and indeed was similar to the premise of a different novel I love deeply. A man becomes unstuck in time, so to speak, and this is a peculiar condition that can cause poignant moments as well as terrifying ones. Mix in a good deal of punk rock aesthetic (scenes in a Violent Femmes concert, multiple allusions to a great many stalwarts of the punk rock era, if you will); a staggering mass of literary nods (from Derrida, to The Moonstone, to the artistry of the Book of Kells, Hell the main character is an extremely intelligent librarian for crying out loud! It's a story about a sexy punk rock librarian man!) and I was finished.

The worst part about this sort of total-immersion is that my emotions become tied in no small part to the whims of the author. I almost involuntarily feel profound joy when the characters are in their happiest moments; and a deep aching pain during their lowest. It is as though my brain hijacks all of my senses and forces them to enact that which it is reading in order to further the impact of the story. Incidentally; this can be a very exhausting process. And often leaves me feeling drained; both physically and emotionally. That is exactly how I feel right now. It is not unlike the physical feeling one gets after a great deal of strenuous exercise; the pleasant ache mingled with tingling residual sensation from the workout. My brain and body are experiencing the emotional and intellectual equivalent of that sensation; and oddly enough it feels as though the best way to break the fog it has left me in is with strenuous exercise.

Thus, I will take my leave in favor of a good hard swim. But let me first synthesize my feelings about this book into something more succinct and cohesive: The Time Traveler's Wife is a beautifully imagined and executed tale that will wrap you up in itself if you give it the slightest opening in which to do so. After the first few pages you'll know whether it has grabbed onto you the way it did to me; but I feel confident in recommending it wholeheartedly to all. Well, maybe not those who secretly loathe punk librarians. They might not enjoy it so much.

Cosmic Reminders

2007-08-13T08:21:00.000-05:00

This past weekend was, without question, one of the nicest weekends I've had in a long time. It even started early on Thursday night when I went into New York with my cousin Jay to catch a set of his buddies in the Randy Bandits. A cold Guinness, good tunes, and hanging out with Jay? Now that's a good Thursday night.

Now Friday was more of a relaxing day. Nothing particularly exciting; just lots of anticipation for Saturday when Nicole was coming in from Jersey to hang out for the day. And subsequently, that Saturday was lots of fun. Walking through New Brunswick, eating at Tumulty's, a little Thomas Sweet's, a quick flick, and then Blue Moons and Little Miss Sunshine on the porch were the perfect tie-up to a really pleasant Jersey Summer Saturday.

Sunday, however, was the kicker. I woke up cramped on a couch with the same Ms. Pesce to the sounds of a circular saw tearing angrily through some PVC...and I couldn't have been in a better mood. A little food; a little bad Sunday-morning TV (read: Deep Blue Sea on FX); and then a pleasant goodbye at the train station on my way to work. A really nice and relaxing morning; which I fully expected to be screwed up by a six hour shift at work.

So imagine my surprise when I show up and find that I only have, in fact, a four hour shift. Well, that changed everything. Now the four hours flew since I knew I was getting out early; which meant a little more time to get back to New Brunswick for drinks and food at Stuff Yer Face with some old friends.

Now, a small caveat: these old friends are not only old friends because I've known them for a long time (6 years in one case, something like 20 in the other) but also because I had been estranged with both for some time. Now Mike and I had reconciled a few months ago; but I had yet to reconcile at all with Jamie; so this was kind of a big deal for me. I had been rather awful to her while in a foreign country on vacation; and regretted it for a long time afterwards but was too scared to apologize and try to make to peace. Luckily Mike brokered it for us, and after a moment of "oh Christ...she's still pissed, isn't she? Fuck I feel awful" things went AMAZINGLY well (apologies for the caps lock, but I really do want to emphasize that point). We chatted for a long time; jokes were cracked; laughter and beer were had by all (well, I didn't drink, but that's irrelevant). I left feeling twenty pounds lighter and with a little spring in my step. Things couldn't be going better.

Until my tire went flat on Amwell road. In the middle of the night, where it was dark and without any particularly useful shoulder. Well crap. I throw on the hazards; pull out the jack, tire iron and donut from the trunk; and proceed to go through the agonizingly slow and painful effort of using a cheap jack on a 2000 Chevy Metro. The tire iron won't spin a full 360 degrees while in the jack, which means it's taking even longer to get the beast off the ground, so I call Nicole to chat with her for a bit and keep myself distracted from the tedium of the jacking. Eventually I get the car up, and then start trying to get the lug nuts off. Now this tire iron is really short; and consequently really freakin' hard to use. This fact was made all the more evident when the casing on one of the lug nuts came off in the tire iron. Ugh. Now, with some more effort, I finally got the flat off, and then putting the donut on was much easier. Suddenly, the phone dies. Well, that sucks, but at least I'm ready to get on the road again, right?

Oh, wrong. It was then that I noticed my hazards were off...which was funny, because I didn't think I'd shut them off. And I hadn't. My battery had just died. Which was wonderful; and aptly punctuated by the flashing lights of a cop coming up behind me. At this point, I start figuring my luck meant he was going to give me a ticket or something; but thankfully he was just there because apparently I almost got hit by someone (I hadn't noticed) and they called the police. So now I'm properly lit and protected; but I still have a dead battery, and as the officer informs me the police are not permitted to give jumps because of the risk to their various electronic equipment.

At this point I'm ready to start flagging down cars when he asks if there's someone I could call for help. And I mention that, while I could try my sister, my phone is dead. Well, thankfully this guy was the nicest cop I've ever met; and let me borrow his cell to call Rita. She, being the awesome sister that she is, comes right out and pulls up in front of me, tosses me her keys and says "Have fun!" So I get the cars nose-to-nose, pull out the jumper cables, and get the little Metro back up and running. I made it home safe, Rita made friends with the cop (who apparently, whilst flirting with her, mentioned that she should "Date a cop." Dude.)

I finally made it home, and in one piece no less, and still felt as though the day were a big positive. I do think, however, that the car debacle was in some karmic way a type of penance. While it felt great to be talking to Jamie again; I had treated her awfully. So, the Universe blew my tire out and then drained my battery. And you know what? I had it coming. And I'm not complaining, either.

Dark or Light?

2007-08-05T19:25:00.000-05:00

It's an age old quandary; a question of dichotomy, if you will. And, apparently, a question that portents greatness to come.

Last night was, in a pinch, exactly what summer is all about. A night of adventure, of discovery, of passion, beer, and sweltering heat. A foray through one of the greatest cities in the world with a friendly guide and a pocket full of drinking money.

While riding the train from New Brunswick up towards New York, I found myself excited after passing Seacaucus and burrowing under the Hudson river. That clear, marked transition from the familiar sights (and smells) of the North Jersey marshes into a place I've been before, but never truly experienced. I'd mastered small sections of the great beast, to be sure; I knew my way from Penn Station to Canal Street, and have the amazing calves to prove I've walked it plenty of times. I had a few places I know and enjoy; from Gonzalez y Gonzalez's pleasant Tex-Mex-y fare to the Two Boots pizza parlor. But I'd never felt as though I was truly adventuring in the city. The city was more of what I tolerated to get to places I wanted to be. Granted, there had been moments of exploration before (the great day I spent at the Pride Parade comes to mind especially) but it still felt more being sucked into the heart of darkness than exploring a great unknown.

The resurfacing underneath Penn Station was that moment of familiarity. The big board beckoned; reminding me of the time table for the North East Corridor, as well as giving me a place to find my new friend and guide for the evening. The walk to the subway was one of gradual removal from comfort; the hallways were like most of Penn Station, but I could feel myself slowly becoming disoriented. And once I passed through the turnstiles and onto the platform of the New York City Metro; all bets were off. This was unexplored territory; something new, and somewhat intimidating. Only once before had I attempted the subway; only to be chewed up and spit out further from where I needed to be than when I started. Luckily my Fremen guide had her hooks lodged firmly in the beast; and we commandeered it down to Greenwich Village, a place I knew of but didn't really know.

The Village was a more surreal experience. The haunting familiarity; recognizing the Shakespeare Book Company, but not knowing whether I was north or south of the old street bazaar. Seeing shops I knew I'd been to and stopped at, but knowing if abandoned I would have been hopelessly lost, and rather confused. But in the midst of this great, heaving animal I suddenly found myself in a place homier than I expected to come across.

McSorley's is a favorite beer of mine. Both for its pleasant taste and Irish roots, it's become a staple of my beer rotation. Little did I realize the beer came from a wonderful pub of the same name. It was here that I began to relax; the pleasant comfort of sawdust covering the floor; the smell of rich cheese and the sounds of hearty laughter; the various Irish accents calling out over the din, and that oh so portentous question: Dark or light?

Well the answer was as obvious as could be. Dark it was, and dark it forever shall be. The first drops on my tongue were so refreshing I'd soon run out of liquid to drink; and my previous hunger was now replaced with a strangely refreshed yet insatiably hungry feeling. The next round went down as well as the first did, and my guide and I got closer; bonding over the sweet nectar before us and the adventure of the city at night.

It wasn't long before we ventured forth once more; in search of the elusive Blue & Gold. We stumbled through streets, looking for landmarks and signposts to guide us to our goal; but finding ourselves walking in circles. Luckily, a check of the map and a moment of re-orientation allowed us to spot the secluded canopy of this elusive establishment.

If McSorley's was a matter of drinking for camaraderie, pleasure, and friends; Blue & Gold was a test of mettle. The gauntlet was thrown with the first round of car bombs; and I feel confident that my swift vanquishing of this particular adversary was enough to earn respect from both my guide and the establishment's representative (you're drinking car bombs ALREADY?!? she said). My worthiness now proven, the later Magic Hats, Stellas, and the second round of car bombs were again the act of comrades preparing for another foray into the night.

The end of Blue & Gold led to the steps of Lilly Coogan's; another little place with pleasant people and a wonderful tap of dark delicious Guinness. At this point there was no returning to Jersey that night; so instead we stalked off in search of Spanish Harlem. The serpentine subway would have taken a long time to traverse; so instead my guide flagged down a much speedier shortcut. Our speedy yellow conveyance was quick in bringing us back to sanctuary, where the rest of the night was spent warding off the outside world and enjoying the after effects of our newfound bonding.

When the sun rose the next morning, the city was no longer the ominous beast it had seemed not 12 hours earlier. The subway trip to Penn Station, while long, was only stressful for time constraints. I felt as though I could have made my way alone, but there was no reason to travel alone when you can with a companion. And as I climbed back into the bowels of Penn Station and boarded my train back to New Jersey, I was both exhausted and content. It was an adventure of grand proportions; and one well worth the trip.

So remember, when someone asks you dark or light; it doesn't matter what you pick. Just hurry up and drink it!

A Night at the Track

2007-08-04T00:36:00.000-05:00

Have you ever watched My Name Is Earl? If you haven't, it's definitely worth your while to watch an episode or two. The actors are good, the scripts are solid, and the jokes (while juvenile) are quite funny. Not to mention the overall idea of karma tends to leave you feeling pretty good about things at the end of the episode. It's silly, it's a little trashy, but it's good hearted and just plain funny.

I mention this not as a review of My Name Is Earl, but rather to point out something about the premise of the show. Mainly, that when someone does bad things, bad things happen to them. And conversely, doing good things will cause good things to happen. Today was a karma-vindicating day for me, you see. And before I mention how today worked, it's important I provide a little back story.

At around this time last year I was being a really big asshole. I had stopped talking to almost all of my friends, and had strained relationships at best with my family. Now I had always been close with my family beforehand, and this was not a pleasant situation for me to be in. Yet I continued to chose not to repair those relationships in order to pay attention to a different one. A rather selfish, and poorly-made decision all in all, which ended up hurting quite a few people. Not too surprising, then, that I was for the most part quite miserable. What relationships I had left were not in good shape; I was stressed out; and I was generally depressed and unhappy. I was doing nothing good for anyone, and getting a pretty lousy feed back in return.

Now fast forward back to today. I've taken care of the bad relationships and have re-established the good ones. I've been seeing some of my oldest and closest friends, and feeling great about it. Additionally, those friendships have led to new friendships with great people. And not least of all, I've gotten much MUCH closer with my family. I've been feeling good about myself, and part of that has been going out of my way to spend time with and help out the people who matter to me.

Now today was a rough day at first. I worked a full day after waking up rather tired, but came home excited to be going out tonight for some horse racing fun with my brother, dad, cousin and grandfather. What's so bad about that, right? Well, first my dad announces he's bailing out on the track. He was feeling a little beat, which is completely understandable, but now it's beginning to seem like perhaps the whole night will fall through. Then my sister comes home and mentions the mound of crap sitting on the front lawn that nobody noticed before. Turns out it was a variety of things my ex decided to drop off. How nice of her. In addition to those of my things that she found little value or personal use in, she had also apparently included as many pieces of evidence that we had a relationship (photos, movie stubs, etc.) as she could find.

Now, I had broken up with her and have been feeling nothing but correct in that choice since. It was an unhealthy relationship, and I've been doing much better lately. But still, it's a little bit of opening an old wound to see things I'd given up on come back; along with kind of a clear "fuck you" thrown in with them. This, it seemed, was a strong candidate for ruiner of the day. But, nevertheless, I started lugging the weight set and remainder of the DVDs she was uninterested in back to the house, and managed to keep from getting upset over it. In a weird way, it was good to have some form of confirmation that this part of my life was dead and gone; and throwing out every last photo and scrapbook-y thing definitely helped cement and reinforce those cleansing feelings.

And you know what? Things picked up after that. My brother called to say he still wanted to go to Linden and the track tonight, so we met up with our cousin and grandfather and spent the evening at the Meadowlands. And it was a LOT of fun too. We bullshitted, placed some bets, yelled at the track when they delayed the races due to thunderstorms, and then cancelled them after making us wait forever. We went over betting systems, talked about baseball, and generally had a really good time together. And then I got the best part of the day. My younger brother and I were driving home, and he asks if I wanted to grab a burger. Now, I know you're probably thinking "uhhh, okay...so you two got some greasy food in the middle of the night. what's the big deal?" Well, shut up and I'll tell you!

I think the world of my younger brother. He is one of the smartest, hardest working guys I know. He's genuinely nice and generous with just about everyone, and I am supremely proud to say I'm related to him. In fact, for the past few years I've caught myself really trying to impress him, which is not something we oldest siblings often do towards our younger ones. So to feel like I was getting back to being good friends with my brother again meant a whole Hell of a lot to me. I didn't go out with him on his birthday this year (that was for friends); I won't be going to AC with him and the fam this monday (since I have to work); but we did sit at the Clark White Diamond at midnight, have a couple burgers, and shoot the breeze for a while like buddies often do.

So while I have so many things to be happy about this weekend, from the upcoming beach house in Lavalet to what is sure to be an awesome night out tomorrow in NYC, right now the reason I could care less that I found my stuff spilling into the road and have to get up for work in a few hours is that my brother seems to like being around me again. And you really have no idea how awesome that feels.

an exercise in beginning (warning: this may be depressing)

2007-07-31T19:13:00.000-05:00

Usually when you hear about getting lost in someone's eyes, it's a romantic thing. The sparkle that people have; the color of their eyes; and that weird electric connection you get when you keep staring at each other's pupils...it's mesmerizing. But the same thing can happen in a very different context. I remember really clearly when it did to me.

I'd never seen eyes like this before. The pupils had almost completely expanded; and there was no glint to them at all. It was just a murky darkness, and it had the same effect on me as beautiful eyes do. I couldn't break away. In my head, I was counting to keep track of how many times I was pushing on his heart. My hands could feel his ribcage straining underneath them, and my knees were scraping along the gravel. I could hear myself screaming out instructions to my housemate, and babbling at Dave to hurry the fuck up and start breathing again. But I couldn't really see anything besides those enormous dark black eyes.

Even after the EMTs came, I was in a daze for a while. The cops wanted to see if there was drug paraphenlia or evidence of booze in his room, and I remember running through the house looking for something. I remember them seizing his phone, and telling us not to call anyone. But the whole time in the back of my head, I kept seeing those eyes. Even sitting in the hospital waiting room, there was a ton going on. Trying to find Dave's family so we could know what was happening; trying to let friends and family know what was going on; but every time I closed my eyes and put my head down...I saw those eyes. Just gaping emptily at me.

That image didn't leave me for a long time. There was over a month where I'd wake up in a sweat, remembering when I found him. Remembering how the CPR made his skin warm up again and convincing myself I'd found a pulse. Remembering not being supposed to support his head on the ground, but worrying about smashing the back of his skull on a rock. Most of all remembering when the nurses told us he had been dead on arrival...a good 4 hours earlier.

It'll be 3 years ago this October. It popped into my head again on my little brother's 21st birthday earlier this month. I had 7 days to go before mine; we had been playing volleyball not 48 hours ago and talking about the party I wanted to throw. I had it in my head that I'd throw a Spanish-style birthday; treat everyone so I wouldn't be disappointed when my friends didn't buy me anything (this had happened a couple times before...it's all good though, they eventually made up for it). Mostly I just wanted to kick the fuck back and get good and drunk.

I know he wasn't the healthiest dude. He smoked, he drank a little, and we were both not in fantastic shape. But 20 year olds aren't supposed to have heart attacks. They're just not. But he did. His heart apparantly was defective, and the little signs he may have had all pointed to it, but were much more easily interpreted as his smoking screwing with his breathing; or a little heartburn.

I lost a lot of sleep thinking about what I could have done differently. If I'd found him a little earlier. If we'd pushed him to just go see a doctor. The funeral was really hard. I remember his mother just bawling throughout the entire thing. I couldn't bear to see her. I slunk out the back at the end of the service so I wouldn't have to look her in the eye; I was honestly terrified to see her after what I was convinced was an opportunity to save her son that I'd muffed. It was one of the harder nights of my life.

It took me almost 2 and a half years to get myself in order again after that. Which is not to say this was the only thing that caused me problems; but it was definitely the moment I lost a lot of confidence in myself.

I feel a lot better about those things now. I've come to terms with my role in the whole thing, and I don't blame myself for it anymore. It really was a huge fluke of a thing; I'm not even convinced a doctor would have caught it if he did see one.

But you know what? I still remember, vividly, the look in those eyes that night. It just doesn't scare me so much to remember them now. And I guess that's growth, right?

I miss you Dave. Take care.

KV Remembered

2007-07-29T21:03:00.000-05:00

When Kurt Vonnegut passed away, it was a rather awful time for me. Things were not going well in general, and the news that perhaps my biggest literary idol (absolutely my biggest literary idol who was alive while I was reading his work) had finally passed was absolutely devastating. Which is very odd for me. This was not a man with whom I had any deep personal connections; he was an author who never knew me in the least. Nor was it a particularly frightening or unexpected death; the man was rather old and had been ill for some time, as I understand, though thankfully his mind remained sharp till the end (don't believe me? Look for his interview with John Stewart).

Yet this was a big deal for me, and it cast a pall over most of that week. Many of the artists I admired were already dead. I was not going to meet Stanley Kubrick, nor Akira Kurosawa. The classic fiction is classic precisely because their authors have passed on. And while I am entranced with the writing of authors like Salmaan Rushdie, Midnight's Children was not a formative novel for me.

I remember reading Sirens of Titan around my freshman year in high school. I couldn't believe how much I loved the way this story read; it was witty, it was dark, it had science-fiction, it had satire, and I couldn't put it down until I was done with it. Seriously, I read it in one sitting. I loved the way his writing seemed brilliant without ever trying hard to do so. He had a way of conserving words and writing cadances and rhythms that would absolutely hypnotize a reader. And dammit, he was really funny. Even Slaughterhouse Five, a book about the fire-bombings of Dresden in one of the bleakest eras of human history, managed to make me laugh out loud. It was really only a matter of time before I was devouring every Vonnegut book I could find. Cat's Cradle, Jailbird, Breakfast of Champions, even Welcome to the Monkey House, a collection of short stories I regularly re-read. And I don't usually care for short stories.

I have ever since always had a conscious desire to emulate the parts of his style that I was so enamored with. And while I never came close to being able to write as well as he did, it was always a position to be aspired to. And since I'm a big dork and don't mind, I'll admit that I regularly entertained fantasies in which I would get to meet the man, and he would read something of mine. To be able to sit with someone whose had so great an intellectual impact on me and just talk; about life, politics, writing, and who the Hell cares what else; to possibly get feedback from Kurt freakin' Vonnegut on my own writing?? Just to let the man who had meant so much to this kid in Jersey know what he did for me..it was something I always hoped would happen.

Naturally, that dream fell quickly when the man passed away. And part of me is saddened to know that I won't be able to sit down with him and shoot the breeze sometime. So, I did the next best thing I could think of to honor a man who meant a great deal to me; I pulled out Cat's Cradle, cracked open a beer, and sat down to read it. And I'll go through and finish re-reading all the others too; including his nonfiction stuff. And after each book, I'm going to sit down and work on my own writing. Screenplays, novels, short stories...doesn't matter which I find myself working with; I'm just going to try to take what I can from my favorite author and do something with it. It's not what I fantasized about, but you know what? It still feels pretty damn good.

So it goes..

Late nights with the Dude

2007-05-11T00:03:00.000-05:00

I can't seem to sleep. It's an unfortunate thing, mainly because I am, in fact, quite tired. Some might even say exhausted. But there are a variety of factors conspiring to keep me awake at this hour when I would rather be unconscious. The heat, for one thing, is not so bad as to warrant the use of my air conditioner, but is just enough to make sleeping difficult. The fear of bugs has also taken its toll, and since I can't find from where they're coming in I just don't sleep well with the knowledge that they may be on my ceiling while I'm powerless to smash them. What can I say, I find comfort in the ability to inflict blunt force trauma.

But the biggest factor keeping me awake tonight is that I simply can't sleep. My brain is just a little too wired to shut down. But it's not as though my thoughts are racing; in fact, quite the opposite. I keep having moments where I come to my senses and realize I've just spent something like 5 minutes not moving at all. The experience is...somewhat unsettling. And yet, I feel as though there's nothing I can do about it.

So, I sit here, watching a butchered version of one of my all time favorite films broadcast on a video-game network on cable tv. And while the Shomer Shabbus scene, and the ferret in the bathtub are funny regardless of editing; it's still depressing on some level to have this piece of art mangled. The editing kills the characters; Danny's simple nature is best realized when placed against the compulsive, psychotic and somewhat turetts infused experience that is Walter; but an edited Walter? And it's not just that the voice over track doesn't mesh with the original audio, by changing the dialogue, it really does affect the character, and by extension all the characters identified in relation to Walter.

Not to mention; the commercials really do make film atrocious to watch. There's no chance to develop a rhythm, and thus no chance to attempt to alter the rhythm and surprise a viewer. Instead the whole thing is shoved into convenient 15-20 minute clips separated by 3-5 minutes of commercial marketing...none of which is even the least bit appealing or wanted, though I suppose someone must be influenced since they pay enough to put their skits in the middle of a movie.

It's somewhat appropriate though, I suppose. Typical, even. I feel like I'm stuck in time, treading water and seeing brief glimpses of an out of focus ideal that I can't seem to grasp or hold on to. And so, I sit here. Wishing for a little kahlua, vodka and milk to at least go with the movie, but like I said...it's just not there to grab. Ah, well, at least it's already 1:30; not too much longer till the sun comes up and I might get tired enough to pass out involuntarily. Here's hoping.

Unconventional Wisdom

2006-08-31T10:15:00.000-05:00

This morning my office was kind enough to throw me a small going-away breakfast; for which I was very grateful. Naturally, since I'm leaving my position to go back to school for my last semester, everyone asked the standard "What are you studying again?" "So what do you want to do after graduation?" type of questions. So I gave my now standard responses: "I'm an English Lit major who focuses on literary theory and film studies; I do a lot of Japanese lit /film/culture in particular;" "Well I'm going to apply to some graduate programs for english, and I'm interested in doing civil service work either for the state or in DC for the Federal Government." All in all the standard pleasant banter you'd expect.

What was interesting was what one of my co-workers said to me after I had come back to my desk to start working. I'm paraphrasing, because I didn't write down what he actually said, but it was something along the lines of:

"Justin, I've been doing this job for 20 years. And let me tell you, it's really changed. When I started, we all used to have lunches. You know, we'd all go out together to a deli or restaurant, sit down, take an hour and leave the work stuff behind; just have lunch. Now? Nobody leaves the office. There is no such thing as a 40-hour work week, it might as well be a 24 hour a day, 7 day a week position. Your only choices are to come in every day behind and be pressured to catch up, or to put in later hours, take your work home, and work over the weekends. If I could do it again, I'd be somewhere else right now. Trust me, get a job teaching, don't do this for a living; at least not in the US."

Which, you know what, is really true. It's one of those things that's pretty obvious to most of us, I think; but doesn't really register consciously a lot. Or if it does, it's considered the product of progress and good old-fashioned American Industriousness. People WANT to work all the time! We're pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps here, for crying out loud! Not to mention they only SAY you have a 40-hour work week; but do you think 40 hours is going to be enough to convince the boss next time we need to cut the budget that your sorry ass is worth your salary when we could cut it and hire some new kid who'll put in more hours for less? This is the way it should be! It's good business!

Well, hot shot, no, it really isn't. It's just another product of what could be called a fear-based motivation structure in the new American culture. People aren't working extra hours because they benefit directly from it; corporate work is literally infinite. There is no point at which someone can say "Hey, I'm done! My job is complete, and now I need a new one!" Everything is cyclical, and you could find work to do all day every day if you honestly wanted to.

But the point is, NOBODY WANTS TO DO THAT. Workaholics are generally overcompensating for problems in their social life. But in a corporate structure? Perhaps a desire for advancement would drive people to work extra long hours and sacrifice their leisure time; but is that the way it should be? Do we really want to only reward people who are willing to commit the most of their lives to work? What happened to the great meritocracy of Capitalism; the QUALITY of your work is supposed to determine your ability for advancement; not the hours you spend. God forbid you do the same amount of work as someone else but aren't around the office from 7 am to 8 pm; someone might call you lazy.

But it isn't that way in other countries. Take most of Europe, for example. A lunch break is a national, public, thing. You can't call an office during that time; EVERYONE LEFT! They're at the cafes, having lunch, and leaving the work behind. Why, you ask? Easy; to manage burnout. This kind of workplace can literally suck the life out of you. Humans are not meant to survive mentally on endless Return on Investment reports, spreadsheets, powerpoint presentations, and meetings. It's cruel and unusual. We used to understand that; the New Deal, Unions, Collective Bargaining Agreements; all were put in place to halt the desire for employers to get the most out of their employees for as little overhead as possible. We wanted to protect the bulk of our citizens by making sure they weren't worked into the ground; allowed to have good home lives with their families; and have healthcare, vacation, retirement programs, etc. Now? You're on your own, deal with it, is the mentality of the day. And it's a cancer in our culture, as far as I'm concerned.

There is more to life than work, and the pursuit of money. 40 hours a week is a lot of time to spend on work; and should be enough time to spend on work. 60+ hour workweeks should NOT be a norm; they should be an anomaly. Because it's just a slippery slope, and until as workers and citizens we demand that we be respected; the ones who do the least work for the most profit will continue to do as Capitalism dictates: Maximize profits, minimize expenses. You're an expense, and your worth is judged by your bosses. So thumb your nose at the Europeans; but they're not living in poverty in the streets, are they? And they can come here on their nice long vacation days and rub our noses in it anytime they want. But, we're the superior nation? Yeah, sure, I buy it...

_Clerks II_ : Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, it's OK

2006-07-25T10:10:00.000-05:00

Typically films are positioned in one of three ways. The first is the most common; the stand alone film. The premise, characters, story, and the fictional setting are all self-contained and meant to be resolved over the course of a single film. There is no cliff-hanger; there are no sequels; and you don't expect to hear from this slice of narrative again. It leaves you sufficiently staisfied with its plot after your two hours-ish of time, and you might want to watch it again, or remember it fondly, but you don't expect to see more of it. A good example of a film like this would be, say, _Singing in the Rain_. It gives you a premise, it introduces its characters, there's a conflict, a climax, and a resolution. The ends are tied up, it feels complete, and the viewer is happy. You don't need to know anything about _Singing in the Rain Prime_ to fully appreciate Singing in the Rain; nor do you expect there to be a _Singing in the Rain 2; Monsoon Season_. It really just wouldn't make sense, and you can tell it would be a forced marketing-driven low-budget kind of idea. Not one based on the story. As such, most writers and directors make this kind of film, and people really enjoy it. It's a useful and prolific archetype.

The second type of film takes place as a part in a series. The Trilogy is probably the most popular format; probably since the 3 act structure is so effective in filmmaking (most films are written in three Acts) it makes sense to view a Trilogy as a whole in three distinct parts each with its own three sub-sections. I don't know why the number three gets so much love all the time, but it really does. Anwyay, a piece of a trilogy or any plot-specific sequential story is just that; a piece of a whole. It has to, in order to satisfy a reader or viewer, have its own self-contained conflict, climax, and resolution; but those are sub-plots to the main plot. Take _Star Wars_ (the original trilogy, that is) for example. _Empire_ is a fabulous film by itself; but is also a classic third act. The bad guys are getting some revenge from the first part; there's a big plot reveal (Darth Vader is Luke's WHAT?! So is Luke half-cyborg, or does that suit have an enormous force-powered wang? The answer brings only more questions..); Han winds up in carbonite; Leia's imprisoned; Luke loses his hand, the rebels suffer a crushing defeat; it all fits really snugly into the classic Second Act structure of a storyline. It has its own mini-storylines to follow; and brings resolution to them (albeit not happy ones); but the overall plot line remains unestablished. Will the Jedis be reformed? Can the Rebels overthrow the Empire? Will Luke redeem his father, or be turned? Will Leia receive her ability with the force, or remain apart from it? Etc. etc. etc. You can watch _Empire_ by itself; but you don't really get it unless you've already seen _Last Hope_ and then go on to see _Jedi_.

The third kind of film is a single part of a greater universe. It has the characteristics of a stand alone film in that it is a self-contained story and plotline; but the difference is that it is one of many films that take place in a certain kind of mold. There's a unifying theme or structure or setting to each of the separate films that allows you to logically group them together; but you can't call one a sequel to another, or put them necesarilly in a specific plot order or often even a chronological order. An example of something like this would be say Comic Book Universes (the main ones; DC and Marvel). The comic books themselves all share a geography; a timeline; and specific natural laws. If certain people can fly in one story in the Marvel 'verse; then its still plausible in any other story in the same universe as long as the prerequisites are met. And what happens in one place does not happen in a vacuum. If Spider-Man were to fight Dr. Octopus and break the GWB; Wolverine couldn't then drive across it. The continuity has to be there; even if the stories don't ever overlap. But you don't need to know what Wolverine and the X-Men are doing to get Spider-Mans story. They're separate occurences in the same world; so they're linked but not by plot or necessity.

Kevin Smith's _Clerks II_ can be considered a part of all three categories. The film stands alone; you don't need to have seen Clerks I to get Clerks II. It reintroduces Dante and Randal, and catches you up on their past right away, the same way any narrative would give its characters back story. If someone were oblivious to the existence of Clerks I, they would just assume that these two shmucks had been wasting their lives away in an old job, and are now doing the same thing years later in a new one. There's nothing pressing that you aren't aware of, and nothing in the film requires previous knowledge to understand (albeit, some of the jokes, cameos, and references are only clear if you've seen the connected film(s); but that's more of an inside joke nod than a plot device). Clerks II has its own self-contained plot. And that plot is compelling; interesting; satisfactorily resolved; and pretty fucking funny as well (it's my blog and I'll curse if I want to, Goddammit).

Yet at the same time, Clerks II is the continuation of the story presented in Clerks I. There was resolution to the first film; but no payoff. Dante says he's decided which woman he wants to be with; that he's going to do better and get out of his dead-end job; and things seem to be ok with him and Randal again. But you've got zero guarantee that he IS going to do anything better, or settle on a woman, let alone have a successful relationship with one. In fact, everything he's done so far would indicate that he's just going to continue to be a doormat for work and do nothign about his station in life. So in a very real sense, Clerks II is the next phase of Dante and Randal, and an actual resolution to the whole thing. I won't give away the details of the resolution; but suffice to say you're not left wondering about whether Dante's going to suceed or fail at doing something with himself; you're given a clear decision and a little extra exposition.

Now, as for the third category, Clerks II sums up (in Kevin Smith's own words) The View Askew-niverse of films. Or the "Jersey Films," or whatever you want to call all of Kevin Smith's movies minus _Jersey Girl_ to date (not because I somehow didn't like _Jersey Girl_, but because it didn't feature the hallmarks of the other films; Jay & Silent Bob, Mooby's, the usual crew of actors, etc). _Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back_ was a cool feature about the former side characters, who had made their way from Clerks to Mallrats to Chasing Amy to Dogma to the spotlight and then back to Leonardo. Jason Lee made an appearance, as did Ethan Suplee, Ben Affleck (a stalwart since _Mallrats_), and more cameos than I can remember. But suffice to say, _Clerks II_ left no doubt that things were placed securely in the Kevin Smith universe. And you know what? It wrapped things up nicely. The only real loose ends that were carried over from the other films were what in the Hell actually happens to Jay & Silent Bob ? (answer: Life is a circle). And what the Hell ever happened to Dante and Randal?

The film is really good at wrapping up those two storylines, and giving a sense of finality to the whole series; because in the end we're back to where we started (more so, again, if you've seen the first and get the last visual reference). Things have come around and while in a way, they're back where they've started; everyone's grown, so it's a new beginning out of an old beginning. A real classy way to bring it all back and let it go, if you ask me.

As for an actual review of the film? _Clerks II_ had me laughing out loud more often than I have before. It is not for the faint of heart, or those incapable of seeing the irreverant humor in dirty jokes and donkey shows (don't ask; just watch it). The typical zany, pop-culture heavy discussions are in there; along with some linguistic theory debate (can one; in fact; reclaim the term 'porchmonkey' for the white man? Or is it doomed to be forever a racist term? I'm serious, go see this movie). It's easily the funniest movie I've seen in a long time, and one of the more realistic and touching plot lines as well. You feel a lot like this could easily be someone you know or knew (and, as a Jersey native, I can easily see it happening here too). _Clerks II_ isn't a groundbreaking cinematic experience; and it isn't the next _Citizen Kane_. It's not trying to reinvent the medium, nor the form of expression, nor any narrative stalwarts of the Hollywood industry. The camera moves a lot more than it did back when _Clerks_ was filmed, but teh minimalist approach was as useful then as a more sophisticated camera work is now. So relax, grab a soda, take some friends, go see _Clerks II_, and when you're done laughing through the end credits go bum-rush a diner (only if you're in Jersey, otherwise I guess you guys have stuff like Denny's, or something...sorry) and talk about how cool this was. You won't regret, I promise.

Rating: **** / *****

Terry Goodkind, Ayn Rand, and Storytelling (Man I like the whole 3-components...what does it mean?!? title format, don't I?)

2006-07-19T09:58:00.000-05:00

Greetings again, non-existant readership. After a lengthy hiatus from rambling, I've rediscovered my muse and have a scrap of essay for you. Right then, straight to it.

Terry Goodkind is one of the formative authors from my fantasy-book past. I took a while to get into DragonLance (didn't read those books until college), and the Forgotten Realms/RA Salvatore world was what first really hooked me into the large serial fantasy genre. (Of course, I would consider Tolkein and Herbert as having paved the way for that kind of book, but until _Homeland_ I had been caught up in suspense/mystery type novels...ah to be 12 again). But a close friend lent me his copy of _Wizards First Rule_ and insisted that this series was really something special. So, naturally, I started reading the thing (a somewhat more daunting than average fantasy novel of close to 1,000 pages), got hooked, and devoured it in some insanely short period of time that I probably sacrificed a good deal of sleep and homework/paying attention in class to accomplish. That was my favorite part of school, incidentally...being able to get away with reading novels instead of paying attention and then when you're caught, teachers having this weird "I want to yell at him for paying attention...but christ, he's READING on his own! " conflicted face. I once even got a Starburst for whipping out a book of my own after a quiz...apparantly kids don't like to read so much, huh?

Nevertheless, the likes of Richard Cypher (later, Richard Rahl), Kahlan, Zedd, and Chase became another world I was devouring. And at the point I jumped into the series, there were already either 5 or 6 novels published; so I had somewhere between 5,000 and 6,000 pages of story to read (quite the exciting prospect, let me tell you).

And while, to me, _Wizards First Rule_ remains the best of the stories, even though Goodkind suffered through some of the traditional struggles that arise out of trying to paint a big world in a single storyline (too many characters, having to spend huge chunks of books recapping old books, etc.) these novels had sufficient draw to keep me reading. A couple of times the twists seemed a little extreme, but not unbelievable, and the story was compelling enough for me to stick with it.

The other problem the story sometimes has is that Richard, the main character, is a little too damn invincible. Not that he doesn't have weaknesses, or he just wantonly slashes through his competition; no, in fact the most recent book in the series (_Chainfire_) starts with him lying on the verge of death but being saved by one of his companions. It's more the fact that Richard has so much more latent power than any of the other characters (save Darken Rahl and the Keeper, really) that he never seems to be at a disadvantage. He'll hit an obstacle, but there are precious few moments of legitimate suspense around Richard's ability to succeed. That's what he does; he's the Seeker, he's the Lord Rahl, he's a War Wizard, it'll look tricky, but he'll win.

And having that kind of an epic character is difficult, because no matter how many people like playing on God mode, it kills the story. No tension = no drama = no fun. Period. But Goodkind has done a good job of making the obstacles compelling enough and the process of solving them interesting enough that it isn't a story-killer for Richard to be so damn good at everything. It's just less about if he can do it so much as how he can do it.

Alright, at this point I know you're wondering what in the Hell all of this has to do with Ayn Rand, right? First, another quick personal anecdote. I hate Ayn Rand. Not Ayn Rand the person, because I have never met her and cannot judge her character based on her writing alone; but Ayn Rand the writer is one of my arch-nemsises. A friend had recommended I read _Atlas Shrugged_, and I thought it was glorified soap-boxing wrapped in a lousy, inaccessible, boring story. I had to read _Anthem_ for a class, which was more tolerable because it was short, but again; I found the whole didactic fable to be utterly uncompelling and uninteresting. And then I was assigned _Fountainhead_, which suffered from all the same problems _Atlas Shrugged_ did, for me, and I just honestly couldn't bring myself to finish it. I tried, I really did, but it was so awful for me I just couldn't keep doing that to myself. It was like trying to walk barefoot over broken glass; if I can just keep walking long enough the pain'll be over and I'll be done and gotten to where I'm supposed to be; but after a certain point you say "Screw this, my damn feet hurt" and get the Hell out of there. That, for me, was reading Ayn Rand.

Rand's philosophy is something called "Individualism" and is a direct response, in many ways, to her life in Soviet Russia under Communism. Stalin's version of Communism in practice was a complete destruction of the self and devotion to the whole; nobody is better than anybody else, everybody just has to do what they're told to do. It's a very bleak picture, and one that doesn't promote and even would punish extraordinary acheivements (unless it bettered the state and you didn't pose a threat, that is). And while it lead to some really interesting pieces of art (Eisenstein's films, for example, are a really interesting manifestation of a non-individual main character, plus Soviet Montage techniques are just nifty), it was really freakin' lousy for most Russians or Eastern Europeans.

So, Ayn Rand's new philosophy was, to be a bit reductionist, a complete 180. Greed is good; the individual is all that matters, strive to be the best you can and care only for your own personal accomplishments, and that is the nature of virtue. Now, I'm all for personal growth and maximizing potentials; I don't believe anyone should have their talents supressed because they're so far and above other peoples that it ruins the idea; and I have every respect for those who break traditional molds of what you can or should do in any particular field and instead work only within the confines of their imagination. But, I hate, HATE the idea that people by nature are totally selfish creatures, and that selfish pursuits are somehow virtuous and wholesome.

Einstein once wrote a pretty interesting essay on the nature of human personality. He posited that human beings are essentially comprised of two distinct personalities: an individual, selfish personality and a communal, cooperative personality. Every person has both of these arhcetypes within them, but can distribute the ratio of influence in any way they so choose. So some people might be almost comlpetely selfless, and spend their whole lives sacrificing their own well-being to give to other people (not a totally honorable goal; and often leads to a great deal of being trampled on/taken advantage of/and squandering of opportunity and personal happiness) while others may be utterly selfish and strive to get whatever they want regardless of the impact it may have on other people (think ruthless business executives; who cares if we're screwing our workers, it makes more profit! Who cares if the environment is being ruined, dumping waste in the river is cheaper than having it treated! Screw poor people, I don't want to pay taxes so I can buy another yacht!). Both extremes lead to serious problems, but good people will find a balance and harmony between both impulses.

Now, Goodkinds most recent novel, _Chainfire_, makes it more clear than ever that he was and is greatly influenced by either Ayn Rand's writings or philosophies. And if not, they have a crazy amount of coincidental overlaps, at the very least. You see, the old supreme evil was the standard Despot Dictator model. Darken Rahl ruled his subjects through fear and his own power, and desired to annex everyone under his own control in his pursuit of ultimate authority and power of all living things. He was drunk on power, as well as addicted to it. And he was the essence of Machiavellian ruling; it absolutely didn't matter how things got done, so long as what he wanted was accomplished. Hell, his closest commander and person resembling a confidant was a supremely loathsome character: he tortured, raped, and killed young boys. A character completely without sympathy, for nearly all readers. He was like a Hitler or a Mussolini; and it's easy to see why you need to stop those kind of people with force. If you don't, they'll simply wipe you out and rape your children. Not a pleasant prospect, even for a pacifict.

But the new evil is a movement, less than a person. It has a powerful figurehead who creates fear and devotion in his followers (Jagang), yes, but he is not a despot drunk on ruling. He is a fanatic; a man bent on forcing his philosophy and that of his faith on the whole world, presumably for the good of the world. He is not acting selfishly, he is doing what he thinks is necessary to bring salvation. The Order, as it is called, is the spectre of Communism made fantastical. They say that you must give everythign to The Order, and in turn The Order will make sure everythign is cared for. When the reality is that the army and the leaders do well while the rest of the people suffer worse than they would have if left to compete. Which is not a poor assessment of the problem with pure communism: unequal effort yeilds equal rewards, which gives zero motivation to do anything at all, let alone anything great. It's a very unfortunate society.

But now Richard has turned into an Ayn Rand character, in some ways. He gives long, drawn out moralistic monologues about how being selfish is good. He talks about how you do whatever you want for yourself, and that in turn will mean other people will do what is best for themselves, and then everyone will be happy. Yay. These kinds of monologues are Rand's bread and butter: multi-page, run-on paragraphs of lecture on the evils of social concern and the virtues of selfishness. And THAT is why I can 't stand Ayn Rand. She can't tell a damn story. It feels like a cheap, forced framework for her personal beliefs, and is in no way individually compelling or interesting. If you agree with her, you'll like reading the book. If you don't agree with her, you'll wonder why in the Hell you're slogging through this stretch of broken glass and painful talk.

Goodkind could easily have this problem for me too. I still don't agree with the root philosophy that people are just selfish creatures, and that's not a bad thing. I think people are social creatures too, and have an inherent desire and responsibility to try their best to care about the well-being of other people. I think people should strive to find a way to embody both the individual and the collective: do the best that you possibly can, but don't crush other people to get there. And don't count monetary and mateiral gains as the only measures of success; being a ruler with a dead population is a pretty lousy prospect, and so is losing your friends, family, and colleagues in order to get all of their money. But Goodkind seems to lean more towards Ayn Rand's ideas of Individualism than towards an emphasis on the individual; and that's a pretty common Western theme.

My best guess is that Terry Goodkind is a Libertarian-type thinker; and that's not just based on the really long ponytail and that he lives in the West somewhere. He seems to care a great deal about people making their own choices and owning their own consequences; not having regulations or mandates put on them; but a very strong necessity to protect your own interests. Don't go telling other people how to live, but if they show up on your front lawn trying to take something from you; shoot the bastards. I'm simplying it, but that's the impression I get from the values he puts into his hero Richard.

If _Chainfire_ were just a way to spout personal beliefs, and promote the need to go out and destroy people who threaten your freedom, those so-called "fanatics" (little bit of a pro-pre-emptive strike philosophy to it, no?) then I would be fed up with Richard and the Sword of Truth series. But he doesn't do that. Terry Goodkind wants to use his work to make a statement, and I honestly believe that's the best thing any artist can do. The Beatles were a good band when they were making pop music, heck they were a great band; but after they got off that plane with Dylan and started trying to write about something more menaingful than girls and love songs did they become Legendary. Jesus Christ, John Lennon frightened the government so bad they kept serious CIA tabs on him; his influence was so great and his ability to reach his audience so powerful that he could have parlayed himself into a ridiculously powerful politician and force for change. Then he got shot. Which is what makes people wonder. But it wouldn't matter if his songs stopped being great songs and started just being a way to preach his opinions on a record instead of from a pulpit or podium. Just like if Goodkind were to stop telling the story and let it suffer at the expense of lecturing his readers on the need to fight and kill those who would challenge your ability to choose how you live. Ayn Rand didn't care if her story was compelling; it wasn't the focus of her novels. The story was just a vehicle, and she didn't care if it was a Porsche or a Yugo. As long as she could pack it with whatever she wanted and drive it in her own direction; nothign else mattered. A little bit Machiavellian, yes?

Except the process matters. You write a story to tell a damn STORY! If you can't do that, you've failed, period. If you want to lecture people, lecture people. Write an essay. Or an Op-Ed. But if you want to weave a narrative; to really put yourself out there as an author of fiction; you have to care about your story the most. A great story allows you to tell your readers what you want them to hear, and can be really effective at getting them to consider a position contrary to their own. But if you let the story fall by the wayside and try to browbeat your readers with philosohpy; you'll lose anyone who doesn't agree wtih you, and those who do will probably stop reading because there's no story anymore. They can read partisan rhetoric anywehre; why do it in a loosely-built novel about architects or the steel industry, or some wizard with a sword in a world that doesn't exist for that matter?

So thank you, Terry Goodkind, for remembering what it is to be a storyteller. I don't always agree with your views, or at least the views of your novels, but I appreciate the story, and I'm willing to hear its points. Just don't forget why I and most of your consumers keep buying your books though: it's for Richard, not his speeches. It's about the vehicle and the road; not where it winds up. Keep that in mind.

Christmas Thoughts

2005-12-27T08:01:00.000-05:00

I haven't had a chance to write in a while, as I'd been swamped with a ton of work on RUMUN '05 and the whole school bit. But luckily for a guy like me the Holiday season is a time of many books, movies, and gift cards for the acquiring of more of both. So while I've yet to get a chance to really read any of my new stuff or watch it, I'll give a rundown of the things I've given/gotten and my cursory thoughts and more if applicable.

First things first, the written word. I gave out a good deal of writing this year, including a copy of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Un Cien Anos de Solidad (hundred years of solitude) in Spanish to the mom (who wanted to read more "classic" literature and could use some better flexing of her linguistic muscles than a room of snotty 7th and 8th graders can provide); a copy of _Belushi_ for my brother, the John Belushi buff; a bottle of Monty Python's Holy (Gr)Ail (Tempered over burning witches, no less!); a collection of Faerie stories edited by Isaac Asimov; a sweet-ass leather bound journal; and I think that might be all the books I've handed out. The Marquez is a classic story and well worth reading if you've never done so before. It's been so long since I read it I don't feel comfortable saying much more about it, but trust me: It's fun. I leafed through the Belushi book before wrapping it, and there's some primo stuff in there from Dan Akroyd, John's wife, and a bunch of the people from Second City and then later SNL. If you can appreciate the man behind Bluto Blutarsky and Jake Blues, you should give the book a try. As for the Holy Ale, I'll let you know how tempering booze over burning witches affects the taste. And the faerie stories will probably be read by my lovely girlfriend long before I get a chance to read them,so I'll ask her for input when she's done.

Now, the fun stuff: books I got/bought with gift cards. First off, when aimlessly wandering Borders in search of something to use my giftcard on I was drawn to the World History section (specifically China and Japan) and discovered this big colorful hardcover book with a giant painting of that crazy Chairman Mao on the cover. Turns out somebody recently published a nifty bio of the guy with all kinds of in-depth research with close friends of the Chairman that had never talked before and rebuffs a bunch of stuff the man made up about himself. Plus the author tells the whole story more like a narrative and less like a report on the man, which makes me excited. Storytelling trumps reporting for me any day of the week.

I also scored a copy of Eragon as a gift, which I had heard was an excellent book. Anything with dragons tends to draw my attention (I'm a sucker; I realize this) and add in the fact that the book got good reviews and is written by a middle schooler (talk about demoralizing. I can't even finish a short story I like and this author needs his Mom to drive him to book signings after reading class) which I plan on devouring over the trip to Ireland I'm taking tomorrow.

Also on the list of newly acquired reading: Kurt Vonnegut's _Man Without A Country_. It's no Slaughterhouse 5, but the old man's still got it I tells ya. It feels like he just sat down and talked at somebody, and made them write it all down for him and send it in to his publisher. He takes cracks at politicians and people, makes some salient points humorously, and does his general Kurt Vonnegut-y thing. I've always been a huge KV fan, and this book is a pleasant little look into the guy's head as he gets older. Very interesting and funny stuff, I think.

And then, at Barnes and Noble, I tapped my other gift card to compensate for my shiny new $4 copy of _Game of Thrones_ (which I've heard good things about...and hey, you can't beat $4 for a book that long. That's some serious page-dollar value right there).

Yes, it was a good haul on both ends of the literature department this year, but the Film collections were equally good, I think. Again, a list of what was given, and what was received.

An anniversary edition of _The Blues Brothers_ to accompany the copy of _Belushi_. If you've never seen The Blues Brothers, and think you know what a good SNL skit turned movie looks like because of anything involving the recent casts, you need to see the Blues Brothers. Right away. Like, now. Go! It has Aretha Franklin! And Ray Charles! And car chases! What more could you possibly ask for?!? Cab Calloway, for crying out loud!

Also given out, a copy of _Finding Nemo_ for my younger sister the prospective veternarian off to college in the fall. I finally saw this movie a couple weeks ago, and damned if it isn't one of the cutest things I've ever seen. A fun animated kids movie with some good voice acting and a solid plot. The colors in this movie are really vibrant too, which makes it a real treat to watch.

A sentimental copy of the previously discussed _Serenity_ was given to my lovely Amy...who also got me the same movie. Ah, the fun of identical gift giving, we laughed long and hard about that one, and agreed it was sweet that we both wanted to get the other a copy of our first date movie..which came out the Tuesday before Christmas. Hehe.

Slipped into the family Polyanna in a deceptively large box was my contribution in the form of a copy of Batman Begins. While I never got to see this movie in theatres, I really enjoyed Christian Bale as the caped crusader. I never really liked Michael Keaton as Bruce Wayne, and found him to be a bit boring looking and scrawny for the part. And the other pre-Begins movies are better forgotten than remembered, so those so-called "Batmen" aren't even in the discussion. But Bale has that striking face, and the ability apparantly to make _The Machinist_ where he makes himself literally skin on bones (that scene where he takes his shirt off is so disturbing and unpleasant to watch it made my skin crawl; seriously he must have been 70 pounds or less) to playing a pretty well-buffed Batman. That's gotta be rough on the bod, way to lay out for the win Christian.

And a tandem gift was given to my cousin/poker buddy/good friend and his wife and two small children. I felt it was necessary to give two films: One for the kiddies and one for the bigger kiddies they call Jay & Jen. My contribution to the development of their children was a copy of the immortal kids adventure _The Goonies_. I can't tell you how much I loved that movie as a kid, and still love it now. It has pirates, booty-traps (sorry, booby-traps), Joe Pantaliano and the scariest old lady ever playing 2/3 of the Italian counterfiting trio, a scrawny hero with an inhaler and a never-say-die attitude, that kid who was also a vampire hunter in _The Lost Boys_ and spoke treacherous spanish to the house-maid, Sloth!, and the list goes on and on. Nobody seems to like making kids movies like this nowadays (seriously, they curse and it's still rated PG! Take that, censorship) and aside from Lemony Snicket, most of the stuff out there is just, well, wussy for lack of a better word. All kids should watch the Goonies, no exceptions.

To accompany that, I included the special Collector's Edition of Bobby DeNiro's famous picture _Raging Bull_. Talk about good movies, this is DeNiro and Pesci at their best. Jake LaMotta is such an interesting character and DeNiro plays him so well, you don't really care that this so-called "boxing" picture has very little boxing in it at all. It's a real American classic, and a must-have for any fan of DeNiro or Pesci.

And on the receiving end, I scored a copy of Blazing Saddles (Mel Brooks = Hilarious; almost always), a copy of Collateral (Tom Cruise playing a really well-acted assassin and Jamie Foxx showing some serious acting chops, he really earned that best supporting actor nomination) which is a fabulous movie, and my copy of Serenity (thanks Amy :) ) which I've already given my thoughts on.

There you go; stuff I got for people and stuff people got me and what I think about it. I got a lot of reading and watching to do, and it'll be good times. Now go try and catch AMC showing the original 30's King Kong, and then go see Peter Jackson's version. I love the original, and when I finally have a spare 3 hours I plan on seeing PJ's rendition, which I've heard only good things about. Enjoy the New Year folks, I'll drink to you in Dublin.

_Serenity_, _Firefly_, _Cowboy BeBop_

2005-10-01T23:09:00.000-05:00

I feel like I mention genre a lot when I talk about films, which is odd because genre-analysis isn't a big part of how I read films at all, but it does seem to be the easiest lead into discussing other topics. Perhaps that's just a function of the use of genres as a whole; grouping things through similarities to give people easier access to understanding a film. Then again, maybe I just like to use genre-speak as an opener.

Regardless, I can't avoid talking about genre if I want to talk about the movie I just saw last night, _Serenity_. For those of you unfamiliar with the film, or with the short-lived series the film was based on called _Firefly_, I'll try to give you a genre-based synopsis of what the series and movie are like. If you've ever seen the anime _Cowboy BeBop_ you can get a feel for the vibe of the film. But while Cowboy BeBop was one of, if not the, first to mix the western tropes with the sci-fi ones; Serenity has a definitively unique take on it. Joss Whedon (of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel fame) wrote and directed the film, and it has a lot of his style to it. The quick-witted humor in the dialogue (particularly in times of action or crisis) is typical of Wheedon's writing, but it's particularly sharp in _Serenity_.

So if you can't tell, I was a big fan of _Firefly_ and already cared about the world and characters of _Serenity_ before I ever saw it. So it's difficult for me to distance myself from it and talk about it objectively (as I've said in almost every post so far) but I'm going to give it my best shot.

The majority of the reviews I skimmed of the film have basically said one of two things: It's only good if you like _Firefly_, and it's hard to get into without having a background in the series. Now, I don't know how true that is. Yes, you understand a lot of the minor characters's backstory a lot better if you've seen _Firefly_. You know more about the Alliance's strange men in blue hands; you know the depth of the relationship between Mal and Enara; you know about Sherpad Book's odd skillsets and strangely veiled past lives; and all of those things make those minor characters a lot easier to know when you're watching the film. But it's an added bonus, I think, to have that background. It doesn't necesarilly take away from the film as a whole, and here's why.

Wheedon (wisely) realized that while you have to maintain a large cast on TV to be able to have authentic-seeming conflict from week to week (otherwise it gets a little tired pretty quickly) you simply don't have the resources to support a cast like that the same way in a feature-length film. You have to focus on a couple of characters (Mal, River, and the assassin) and let everyone else be a supporting role with different amounts of importance. The core crew needs to be the same. The ship doesn't run without its captain, pilot, second-in-command, engineer, and enforcer (well, the crime part doesn't run well without Jayse, but the ship probably would). River is central to the plot, and always was, and with her comes her brother Simon, so they both have to be there. But the wandering priest? Mal's shaky love-interest resident-companion (read: government sanctioned and well-protected/supplied prostitute)? Those characters aren't central to the story of the film. And to try and make them that way would overburden the story, and it would suffer greatly for it.

At the same time, I think enough is alluded to about their relationships with each other to give a good amount of implied depth to the minor characters and show the depth of the central ones as well. Wheedon also introduces his world well; with a short creation-myth of the Alliance introduction that simultaneously shows the history of this place and the position of the ruling powers. Not much is said about the Battle of Serenity, or the war between the Independents and the Alliance, but not so much needs to be said. You know from the introduction that a war was fought, and the Alliance won. River tells you the point of the war from the Independent's side, and Mal's wearing of a long brown coat is pointed out in a bar. If you're paying attention, you'll get a feel for the backstory without already knowing it. The upshot of already knowing it, however, is that rather than having a skeleton of a world-history; you have a pretty well fleshed-out one.

Cinematically, I thought the film succeeded on a variety of levels. The visuals of course were stunning, as was the choreography of the fight sequences (particularly River's). I also loved the opening editing. The outside classroom scene that imparts the necessary mythology of the world; and the introduction of River. You see River as a little girl in class, who's obviously very bright and has no difficulties questioning authority. Cut to reality: River's not a little kid, and her brain is beig seriously screwed around with. And that scene you just saw? That's what they're trying to show her. They're manipulating her dreams to program her. That sequence does a lot more than just show a couple of scenes; while the editing technique isn't particularly innovative, it's well-executed, and I love it.

I need to watch this film a few more times. I will more than likely end up buying a nice copy of it on DVD and placing it next to my Firefly box-set. And I really recommend it to anyone who would like to see a good Sci-Fi/Action movie. And, of course, if you like the film you should try watching the series. The continuity is a little skewed, necesarilly, but the characters and histories are all the same; just as I said earlier more fleshed-out. I came across an interview with Wheedon asking if he was planning on a sequel or a trilogy. He responded by saying of course he can write a sequel; it's his world and he loves it and his characters so the opportunity to tell more of their stories would be great. But that's not how he approached the film. _Serenity_ is a stand-alone picture, and based on its reception and success may or may not give the studio a reason to ask for a sequel or two. Personally? I hope it gets a lot of good response and income, because these actors/characters/stories are hands-down the best sci-fi and action movies I've seen in a while. Star Wars was fun because you already loved the characters; not because it was an awesome movie (episodes I-III were riddled with problems, but always succeded because of the sheer pop-culture power of Star Wars). _Serenity_ has the potential to be what you wanted those Star Wars movies to be, so go see it already!

Entertainment Weekly & Coheed and Cambria

2005-09-20T11:20:00.000-05:00

Entertainment Weekly is a publication I never know what to feel about. They give me good information about upcoming film, tv, and even music...but they also have what seems to me to be a pretty piss-poor reviewing staff on hand. They only really have two film critics, one of which I continually disagree with; and their little blurbs often seem written only to illicit jokes, and are poorly executed at that.

But, they had a full page review of the new Coheed & Cambria album that just came out today, so I wanted to read what they have to say about it. Turns out the answer was not much.

Right off the bat C&C are called a new prog-rock band (a genre term I have some issues with in this instance), and then the bulk of the article is spent talking about how the prog-bands of yore were so much better than the new ones (read: C&C and The Mars Volta). After a few sentences on the actual album (and a misprint about what number release it is...here's a hint: the big "IV" on the album cover doesn't stand for 3) right at the end of the article there's a short lament for old prog rock, and a C+ rating.

Alright, so here are my problems with this article, the first and foremost being the use of the term "prog-rock" on C&C. I will agree that some of the staples of old Prog bands were the complicated story-line albums; the long and laborious titles; and the multi-part, constantly time-signature shifting complicated instrumental constructions of the songs themselves. But, there was this feel of the older prog as based in classical music (I think, I didn't study prog ever) not to mention a close association with the mathematical composition of music (from my understanding). Also, they wrote on different themes lyrically. Things tended to be a little more up-beat and lighter compared to the darker meat of C&C's lyrics. But that doesn't necessitate a value judgement on the music itself, I don't think.

Too bad that's exactly what this reviewer David Browne does. He writes "Much like the sci-fi and fantasy books that inspired it, the genre's beautifully intricate sound spoke of distant and (perhaps) better worlds. Not the new prog." A tricky rhetorical strategy, to be sure, but a transparent one nevertheless. The juxtaposition of these phrases has two effects. The first is what the author would likely claim the purpose to be: the object of what "the new prog" is not music about distant and better worlds based on favored sci-fi or fantasy novels. But, it also is apparantly not "beautifully intricate," which does two things: first, it places a positive value on old prog and the themes they used, not to mention the quality of the music in the reviewer's opinion; and secondly it places a negative value on the newer bands who in turn DON'T have "beautifully intricate" songs, just overly-complicated ones.

Right. So Coheed is new prog, which sucks compared to the old stuff; except new prog isn't based on classical like old prog was, it draws off of metal (particularly speed metal); and the themes have changed; oh, and it sounds different. Right. So, the only things keeping it in the old generic tradition are complicated album plots and long titles? Green Day's _American Idiot_ is a concept album, but I doubt you'd call them a prog-rock band. And the band "And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead..." or whatever has one of the longest titles ever...JUST FOR A NAME! And they're not anywhere near prog either. So...really aside from Claudio (lead singer of C&C) sometimes having a similar vocal style to Geddy Lee (of Rush) there's no real direct tie to anything that is specifically "prog-rock."

Great article there, davey. You really showed the quality of your magazine. Few tips though; next time you write a review of an album you might want to write a little bit more about the album and band than about the stuff you like better. Or just don't do a full page review if you can't actually fill it with meaningful text. I'll edit in a personal review and rating of the album once I pick up my copy this week, but for now suffice to say I give the arbitrary "C+: Not as cool as Yes" rating little credence.

A Problem of Dissent

2005-09-17T12:59:00.000-05:00

I'm having difficulty titling this post, which might be interesting because usually the titles are easy enough to write (though, granted, they're often just the title of whatever I'm writing about, but nevertheless) but I'll have to wait until the end of this entry to come up with a short, catchy cover-all phrase to sum it up.

So, last night my housemates and I had a few friends over, who in turn brought a few friends over, which resulted in a minor party happening at my house. Nothing too big, just a lot of people hanging out, drinking, and watching baseball/playing videogames. But, naturally, when you get a lot of smart people together in a room and feed them alcohol, without the presence of heavy bass beats to start the rhythmic rating ritual that is college party dancing, they tend to want to talk about smart people things. And the favorite topic always seems to be politics/economics with my group of friends (Gee, I wonder why a bunch of kids in Model UN and Congress would tend to talk about politics and econ?). While in conversation with a friend who's intelligence I have a great deal of respect for, I met some fairly harsh personal criticism.

First, a background note. For those of you unfamiliar with me (which, according to my site-traffic indicator would be a very small number) I'll give you an idea of the kind of person I am, academically at least. I focus heavily on what interests me, and what I find most engaging academically, and tend to latch onto those things and pursue them rather than necesarilly do what is prescribed. I have a tendency to get into a book of my own finding that might be about Japanese "Pink" films, by an author I found in class and liked a lot, or just sidetracked because I had a flash of inspiration and started writing a screenplay or book or something. My GPA, while a consideration, is not my only consideration, nor my #1 consideration. Sometimes, this means I won't go to a class if I'm not feeling particularly well, or I have something pressing to do instead. The first of the accusations I faced was that I am lazy, and not motivated, and am all talk and no action. Having heard this before, and time and time again, I took personal offense. But, onto the second part.

In case you were also unaware, I'm a fairly big critic of the way capitalism is functioning right now, particularly on the largest scales. While I'm willing to admit I'm not as well versed in economics as others are, I don't think that makes some of my criticisms any less valid. Combine my personal misgivings with the fact that I appreciate Marxist works as having some solid philosophical/theoretical/historical significance, and apparantly I'm apt to be labeled as a "socialist whiny hippie," or something like that. Because (and I'll take fault for playing the role at times for fun) such people, especially college students, tend to talk a lot and whine about how things are and in the end only participate in the system and never try to do anything to make it better. A very valid criticism of those people, and something that pisses me off too.

But, here's the thing, I don't think that's the way to do things if you're serious about change. You can't sit around all day, with your friends usually, and selectively quote the Communist Manifesto and bitch about how Capitalism is a corrupt and inherently evil system, as is the american beauracracy, and how the "revolution" will one day come. First of all, it's usually uninformed and foolish ramblings; second, by only talking with like-minded people and shouting at the rest and calling them Fascists and Fatcats or whatever it is the kids say these days, you give poor representation to the ideas you claim to believe and influence no-one; and third, just talking rarely does anything. It's talk, you have to do something with it.

I've lost sight of where I wanted this essay to go, because I was mostly fired up after remembering how fired up I got last night after being called lazy and less-intelligent and a socialist who complains all day and doesn't do anything to make the world better. Okay, I've found my focus, I'm going to skip right to the part where I outline what I do think and what I intend to do about it. How's that?

Here's my issue with the way things work here (the US) right now. I think that capitalism, particularly free-market capitalism, is not a bad thing if done correctly. I think representative democracy is not a bad thing, if handled correctly. I think the bulk of the problems we face as a society come from the fact that American culture preaches greed and individualism at the expense of others.

Individualism has always been a major facet of Western philosophy, and is one of the bigger differentiations between Western and Eastern schools of thought. Americans in particular have a culture that says success is measured by how much you have (not necesarilly make, but own in material goods) and that you need to do everything you can to give yourself as much as possible. Why else do you think people are willing to put themselves in crushing debt and live in huge houses on small plots of land? Why are some of the people from New Orleans taking their $2,000 disaster-relief debit cards and buying Louis Vuitton bags? Because they think it's important to have something material to say "Look! I'm a good person! I have good things!" Materialism runs rampant through our society, and I don't think it's something that can be easily repudiated.

But, culture is determined by a variety of factors, some recognized and others unrecognized (by the general public). I think it's equally important to analyze culture and see what the messages it is sending are (that are often confused with the "natural order" of things) and work towards creating new cultural artifacts that say something positive instead. People who complain about "reading too much into [insert cultural artifact]" don't realize that even if you're, say, watching a movie just to be entertained that it either suggests or reinforces cultural ideals and "norms" and you should be aware of what's being said and suggested to you.

And that's where I think I do the best work. And that's why I want to go to graduate school, and create pieces of culture that say something I find more positive than "Greed is good, go take care of yourself and fuck the rest of 'em." And, given the opportunity, I'd love to start my own business and run it the way I think I should run it. And that's how I want to help make things better.

(And, in fairness to the aforementioned person who accused me of being the things that got me riled up, we reached some form of consensus by the end of the night and I feel as though said person was made aware that (s)he didn't really understand me as well as previously thought...or perhaps I was being humored, in which case I'll get riled up again)

_Final Fantasy: Advent Children_

2005-09-16T10:13:00.000-05:00

One of my most-anticipated films is coming out on DVD soon (finally imported) but I got a hold of an advance copy and got to see it this week. _Final Fantasy: Advent Children_ is a story sequel to my favorite video game of all time, Final Fantasy VII. The characters, world, and plot are all continued and extended with use of the same animation technology used by the guys who made _Final Fantasy: Spirits Within_, which has an eerie ability to make characters so lifelike that a first glance cannot distinguish between live-action and animation. _Spirits_ was not well received, as the liberties taken with the FF line in the story went over poorly with fans of the games, and the film's look and appeal didn't reach many others.

_Advent Children_, however, was controlled in full by Square-Enix, and consequently looks, feels, and works like the Final Fantasy fans are used to.

From the standpoint of a huge lover of the characters and story, this film was astounding. The visuals were breathtaking; the animation was flawless and, as previously stated, almost creepily lifelike; and the action sequences were just flat-out awesome. The ways they made in-game concepts make sense in a more realistic setting (Cloud's case full of materia, which fused with the characters using it in a more spiritual than literal sense). Clearly it was just a beautifully made piece of animated film, and a must-have for any lover of the original game.

But, critically I have to say the movie fell short on its potential. Way, way, way short. It's apparent that the focus of production was on the visuals and appealing to the game's fan-base, and less on character development and working out a good plot. They use staples of the game (Jenova, Cloud's supporting cast, materia, Bahamut) without explaining them at all. An outsider to the series has little to no access to the background lore of the film, which limits the audience drastically.

Additionally, the plot itself was poorly executed, even for someone with knowledge of all the background action. The story of how the gang of three "brothers" were trying to ressurect Sephiroth, while interesting, did not seem too complex. It was as if the story were tailored around a) Making sure you could see Cloud fight Sephiroth; b) choreographing fight scenes; and c) making as many "Look, it's ____!". Fun, geeky, fanboy type moments that are enjoyable, but not a lot of depth of character or story. And for a 100-ish minute movie, that's a pretty poor use of time.

But, that's how these things work, I suppose. The point of this film was to look cool and flip a profit, and I'm sure they've accomplished that. But, I'll confess, it left me feeling a little let down. I wanted a story within the characters and world I enjoy so much; not just flashy bike-fights and another Sephiroth v. Cloud. S-E, you'll earn my money for your DVD, but not my critical endorsement.

Final word: FF:AC is for die-hard fans and those looking for some awesome visuals only. All others should go see something else.

_The Constant Gardener_ & Deleouze

2005-09-06T20:10:00.000-05:00

Don't get me wrong. This won't be a Deleouze-inspired reading of _The Constant Gardener_, it's two separate subjects I feel like writing about.

I saw CG last week sometime, and was really blown away by it. The director, a guy named Fernando Meirelles, is an amazing amazing guy. This film is his second, and his first was the equally amazing _City of God_ about gangs and an aspiring photographer in one of the most dangerous cities in the world, Rio de Janiero. CG takes place between England and Kenya, and is a conspiracy-oriented suspense/drama.

The thing about Meirelles is he (and the screenwriters he works with) make stories that are individually driving and intriguing, but deal with big current issues in an intelligent way. CG is primarily concerned with the power of pharmaceutical companies over African nations in particular, like Kenya. The government is willing to kowtow to major investors and give a reign of freedom that would never be seen in a developed nation. But the influx of money tends to be worth enough to these governments to warrant that kind of freedom.

It's been too long since I saw the film, so I can't remember a lot of the specifics of the visuals that struck me, but Meirelles has a really gorgeous camera style and always throws in some neat shots/angles/movements that you don't quite see coming. I think particularly because this film plays around with chronology a lot (jumping through time without blatantly saying "Hey! We're moving through time now!") I really just enjoyed watching it and felt more involved than if I were beaten over the head with things. I really recommend seeing this film, it's something I feel that I will end up writing about eventually. Just be warned, it can be a little sad. It's not _Hotel Rwanda_ sad, of course, but still.

So, about Deleouze. Apparantly this guy is a super-talked about theorist nowadays. He died in 1995, and belonged to a Philosophy department somewhere, but is discussed in all sorts of programs everywhere. He co-wrote this really interesting sounding pair of books called _Anti-Oediups_ and _1000 Plateaus_ which are apparantly these huge european underground hits where he tears apart Freud and talks about social politics or something respectively. I've only read a few chapters of his first of two books on Cinema, but I'm really intrigued by him so far. I'll write more about him when I've gotten more into his writing, but I already know I'm going to check out those other two books after this class.

Alright, that's all I've got. Moral of the story is, if you're interested in cool hip french theorists, go read some Deleouze. If you want to watch a really awesome film, go see _Constant Gardener_, or _City of God_ for that matter. And if you're looking for something smart to read, you're probably in the wrong place. Get outta here!

_Layer Cake_

2005-08-29T16:13:00.000-05:00

I had meant to write a little bit on the subject of the British crime-drama _Layer Cake_ a week or so ago right after I saw it, but naturally put it off, forgot about it, and went about letting my brain be sucked into work instead. So, since I'm at work now, and there's nothing to do, it seems appropriate to write about this little gem of a movie.

So, _Layer Cake_ seems (at first glance) to fit fairly simply into the modern organized-crime drama genre mold. Guy's been successful dealing drugs, is looking to retire, there's one last job he has to do, it gets complicated, yadda yadda yadda. Vague, brief story arc seems like a re-hash of the same crap we've seen before, right?

Luckily, that's not right. _Layer Cake_ is amazingly fresh to watch, even though the story-frame has seen its fair share of use. To begin with, there are some really fabulous pieces of cinematography in this movie that come out of the blue and leave going "whoa, that was cool!" Not too much in the way of crazy-camera work, but some nice little off-the-beaten-path approaches that add some flavor to the whole visual narrative.

Also, the acting in this picture was spot-on. None of the actors or actresses in this movie are super-attractive (the blonde who gets with Mr. X is pretty cute, but not that hot) and the main characters are all fairly average looking older men. Which in part, I think, helps the performances a lot. They fit their characters of long-time criminals, or recent drug-entrepeneurs as need be. Violent outbursts, flashbacks to the old days, everything comes together nicely and makes the whole fabric of the narrative seem sturdy.

But my favorite part about _Layer Cake_? It takes its time. That's right. It's not a fast-paced movie.

But I thought it was a crime-drama? Drugs, murder, gangs, twists. That's all action-y and fast-paced, right? What's the deal?

Seriously. This movie takes its time setting things up for you. There's no rush to make you gasp at action sequences, or attempt to make the double and triple crosses seem more perplexing by giving you virtually no time to think about what's happening before the next twist comes. The movie paces out the action, the twists, and the drama very well. You get a good feel for all the major characters, I think, which is not something most movies do often anymore. Plus the whole little gimmick with never knowing the main character's name? That was pretty cool. A neat little aside, but the kind of thing that adds personality to a film. "_Layer Cake_? Oh yeah, the drug movie with the no-name main character." Helps set it apart, which it certainly deserves.

So, long story short, if you like good characters, neat filmmaking techniques, drugs, gangs, guns, and intrigue...go see _Layer Cake_. If nothing else, you'll get to see why the British are masters of cursing where we Americans are shoddy rip-offs (Seriously. When these guys say "fuck", it hits way harder than the way people pepper it around on this side of the atlantic. Be more selective in your swearing, people!). But overall, I'd give _Layer Cake_ a B. Points off for the pointless female interest, but a real good solid movie.

(Note: B is actually very good by the soon-to-be-used Justin grading scale. Movies I think suck will get F's. And only the films that really blow my mind will get A's. You'll see what I mean later.)

_Beowulf_ an animated film?

2005-08-22T20:44:00.000-05:00

http://www.mtv.com/movies/news/articles/1507841/08182005/story.jhtml

Whoa...I'm not sure how I feel about all of this, and while I suspect the merits of the film will remain unknown until it's released, I'm sorely torn right now.

See, I love "Beowulf" the poem. I was super into it as an abridged story when I was a kid, and later loved the full-on medieval poem in its original epic glory. I'm a sucker for fantastical tales of heroes fighting monsters, so "Beowulf" and I are pretty tight.

I am also a huge supporter of animated films. And while this adaptation is being done in the style of _The Polar Express_ (same director) with motion-capture animation, I still see a lot of potential for the film. Animation allows for a truly imaginative and fantastic tone to backgrounds (CGI or hand-drawn); the opportunity to truly create a world beyond what we already know without making its characters seem out of place. A well-created Beowulf and Grendel would look fabulous in a theatre, if done right.

But, there's my problem. IF it's done right. And there's a point to which I don't trust Hollywood adaptations to be done right, let alone well. For instance, I seriously doubt any of the characters will speak in their original language, and instead speak an updated English much in the same vein as newer abridged versions of the epic. Although the cast seems interesting (Angelina Jolie, Crispin Glover, Anthony Hopkins, John Malkovich) I just can't tell whether or not this will depress me or excite me to see when all is said and done.

I think mostly I wish resources were being spent in encouraging new screenplays and stories, and not just relying on adaptations. So much of what comes out of Hollywood are adaptations of novels or stories, formulaic carbon-copy style films (standard action movie; standard romantic comedy; etc); and remakes of old hits. The medium really thrives when people write specifically for it, and are not taking something else and making it fit. When you write a story with the intent of telling it as a film you write differently than you would when writing, say, a novel. You're not just using words and dialogue to build your world, your characters, and your story. You can certainly use written text and crafted dialogue, but that's only one of the kinds of language you get to play with in screenwriting/directing. Combine spoken/written language with a visual language (mise-en-scene, body language, unspoken communication) and an editing language (using juxtapositions of shots to create meaning or speculation) and you have not one, but three different tools to write with.

And really, unless you're specifically writing with those tools, you won't use them effectively. The film _Beowulf_ will be an attempt to show what goes on in a person's head when they read the epic (or, likely in this case, an abridged or updated language version of the epic); not a story crafted originally in film. The problem is one of translation, really. The same way you lose layers of meaning in translating from, say, Japanese to English you lose a part of a story in translating from literature to film (and, god forbid, film to literature...almost ALWAYS awful). Because a book only uses written language, you have to translate parts of it into visual and editorial language, which is a process that deadens the impact.

The beauty of a novel is that it uses your own imagination to create the look and feel of its story. The beauty of cinema is that it can show you a world your imagination would never have considered in stunning and beautiful detail.

But adaptations wind up only being an attempt to show one person's imagination in plain terms. And, often, I'm disappointed with the effort.

But, like I said before, there's always the potential for someone to do it well and interestingly. I'd argue Charlie Kauffman did just that with _Adaptation_, though granted he hardly did a word-for-word adaptation of his source text. Perhaps _Beowulf_ will exist as a beautiful complimentary piece to its epic source, and perhaps it will succeed in telling the story in part the way it was originally told (orally). I certainly hope these things are what happens, because otherwise I will have to weep internally at the bastardization of a favorite and revered childhood tale.

This is what happens when I get tired and feel smart

2005-08-18T23:08:00.000-05:00

I really should be heading to bed and not writing an entry, because I have to be up in less than 7 hours, but somehow I don't think I could sleep until I wrote this. I've been writing like mad these past few days; much more volume than I normally put out. All the blog entries, one 10+ page research essay, one 2 page response paper, and a 10 page short story. So I figure I'm on a roll, and there's no sense in stopping the flow while it's flowing...or something.

So, anyway, I'm just going to wax a bit on paper writing for me. There's a big difference between just writing, and writing an assignment. When I'm just writing, I write once something hits me. It's in my brain, it comes out quickly, and then it's done. There's no pressure to write something, so when it happens it just happens. Papers impose stress. There's no waiting until I'm pushed into writing it; I have to provide the push. And sometimes that push is hard to impose.

Like today, for example. I had to write that research paper I've had planned and prepared for a week or so now, so I got up early (for me) and sat down to bang it out before work at 5. Except I was all dried up. Nothing was coming. I couldn't even phrase my introduction. All I did was write a bare-bones outline, which was good but not nearly as much as I should have done. I kept feeling hungry, or achey, or thirsty, or something else that couldn't let me find my writing zone. Eventually I left for work with only a paragraph done, and brought the laptop along with me with the intention of writing while things were slow.

Luckily for me, a friend and co-worker was there visiting when I arrived. So I hit him up to cove for me for a few hours so I could just write. He, being the super nice guy he is, took over for the bulk of my shift, so I only had to work for 2 hours before I could just sit down and work. And right away, it started coming to me. From 7 to 10:30 tonight I managed to write 10+ pages of (what I think is) coherent analysis of _The Moonstone_. There were lulls in the flow, that's just bound to happen. I'd get up to get another drink, have to go to the bathroom, or just need to stand up and walk around for a minute. But there were no blocks. It just kept coming, until I realized I was done.

And the feeling of just being done? Dear God, that's so good. The assignment wasn't just finished; I did more than was expected. See, since it turns out our grades were due less than 48 hours after our last scheduled class, the original 8-10 research paper with at least 6 sources turned into a 5-8 page paper with only 3 sources. Most people hadn't planned out their papers yet, and were glad to have a smaller page count to work in. Too bad Justin the sucker already had a long one plotted, and it was too damn late to change it now.

But you know? I'm glad I didn't. I'm glad I wrote the longer, tougher paper. I'm glad I used more resources, because it makes sense. I needed to establish that I wasn't working within the scope of current scholarly thought on the issue, I was expanding it to something that hasn't been discussed. I needed those 10 pages to really prove what I was talking about too, because nobody else (to my knowledge/research) has tried to prove it before. And I never felt like I was being wordy or trying to fill space. Everything I was writing felt like it needed to be there to make my argument work. And trust me, it's a million times easier to write when it feels like it needs to be done then when it feels like it needs to fill up 10 pages. I wish I had more time to revise it, because I know at points it's going to repeat itself, or babble, or need more clarification. But I have time constraints, people! Give me a Goddamn break!

Okay, I'm getting surly, which means it's time for bed. No updates for a while since I'm going on a "management retreat" for work, which means being in the mountains for three days being a ruffian and drinking Captain Morgan and Grey Goose. Not that these are my preferences, mind you. While I do enjoy Grey Goose, I'd rather have a nice selection of Belhaven, Guiness, and McSorley's on hand, perhaps with some Jameson for when I feel like whisky. Lately I'm into being Irish in my drinking. It's a heritage thing. I'd try combining all this writing and drinking, but let's be honest. I've read James Joyce. And, while the man was an important Irish writer, and a damn good one, I don't want to sound like James Joyce. I really don't. So, note to self: No Jameson mixed with Writing. Ok, good. Now, I'm serious. I'm going to bed. This has gone way off its academic base. Forgive me, all four of you who read this. I've let you down. Oyasuminasai.

On "Low" Art

2005-08-17T18:20:00.000-05:00

I was reading the latest Websnark entry by Eric Burns (see the link for Websnark at the right of this page) and it's about a recent New York Times article on webcomics. Webcomics, incidentally, are the bread and butter of the blog that is Websnark, although admittedly Mr. Burns (hehe, Mr. Burns) has been writing about numerous other things lately; but webcomics are where his blog started and remain the core subject matter. (Incidentally, I really enjoy Burns's writing style, and his insights to the world of writing professionaly and his treatises on his writing process are really neat to read. But I digress). So, apparantly the NYT wrote an article about webcomics, and did an offensively outdated and underresearched job, which in the end just really seemed to shaft webcomics as a whole, but at least it gave some good cartoonists a plug. (You should read the article: http://www.websnark.com/archives/2005/08/wow_i_get_to_tr.html )

And it reminded me of being in class the other day. Someone said something jokingly about how silly people who studied graphic novels were, or something that, in the end, amounts to "comics aren't as worthy of study as literature." At this point (being that I sit in the front of the room, had a notebook on my desk, and was well acclimated with my instructor and fellow classmates) dramatically swept the things from my desk with disgust and shook my head. Because, see, academics can be big jerks.

That's right, I said it. Big jerks. Brilliant people who spend all of their time thinking up new ways to think; or analyzing and discovering brilliant novels of the past and present; and those who can teach how to look beyond the surface and truly interact with a text or cultural artifact. Big jerks. Case in point? William Dowling.

I give William Dowling some credit. He knows what he knows very well, and has proven it (hence having a good job at Rutgers and being a published author). And he reaches some of his students well, and gets praise from them. He's clearly an intelligent, and well-read man. But he makes no bones about the fact that he thinks more or less anything outside of english cannonical literature should not be lumped in with the "English Program" and should instead be pushed into "Cultural Studies." In other words, he doesn't want what does associated with the works of people like, I don't know, Judith Butler. He doesn't want classes on Tolkein aligned with a class on Kurosawa or Hitchcock. And he sure as Hell doesn't want you thinking Shakespeare should ever be taught in teh same program as someone who might want to teach about Frank Miller.

And something occurs to me when I think of this. It's been my experience that the bulk of the American population doesn't think much about the contributions of academics. They don't see how thinking about books means anything to them, or how it has an impact on day-to-day life. So they brush it off and don't care about the work that goes on. At best, they'll read or watch good films, but likely they'll just watch TV and whittle away their lives. Culture is under-appreciated in American society, as are cultural artifacts.

So why is it that a group that is snubbed for their career-choice would go on to snub other people's interests as more meaningless? To say that the study of film is a study of popular culture, and somehow less important than the study of canonical literature, seems ludicrous to me. The study of non-canonical literature is just as valid as the former, in fact, I'd argue it's MORE valid. Because the pulp novels of the nineteenth century will tell you more than a silver fork novel ever could. And because while I do dearly enjoy the work of Charles Dickens, how can you argue that he should be studied and Bram Stoker should not? Why, because Stoker writes about sex and vampires? "Popular" novels are just as rich as "high literature" is, if you're willing to interact with the text. There are brilliant writers who do both kinds of work, and awful writers too. But that doesn't mean different forms are invalid for study.

And forget just books that aren't considered "intellectual." What about film? What about graphic novels? What about comic strips? What about video games? Each form has unique opportunities to convey meaning and metaphor. A film can use a visual stage and a frame to tell a story without using words in a way that a novel never could, and a photograph would fail to capture. A freeze-frame of a mountain-range is beautiful, but the majesty of it is much more visible when the camera is mounted on a helicopter and takes a long, slow, arc across the length of them. And you create meaning through editing. Montage forces your brain to find meaning between two images, and so invents a new language to express with, beyond the boundaries of written or spoken English.

Comics can operate similar to, but distinct from, movies. A graphic novel or comic strip works with a frame, and with visual images, as well as text. A comic artist lays a visual path for you to follow, and in doing so can implement many of the same elements of montage that a filmmaker can. But by using only still images, the details can become more important, and more highlighted. The way in which the image is revealed as you follow the text can impact the way in which your mind reacts to the piece. Again; it has resources that print never can utilize.

And video games are a whole other animal. There are heavily story-based videogames of different genres (action, adventure, and RPG come to mind). A well-crafted story told through the medium of a game puts the player in a unique interactive position with the game and its story. It is by its very nature interactive, and as such places the player directly within the world of the game and asks him or her to operate as the main character (usually). The experience of discovering information, as opposed to reading how another discovers information, seems to me to be a differnet kind of intellectual function. The characters in a novel may solve a puzzle in their journey, but in a game the journey requires you yourself to solve the puzzle. You have a clear understanding of what it is to be the one asked to sort through a dilemma, perhaps under time constraints, and the feeling of tension and imperitive is different than the emotions garnered by reading.

And that doesn't even consider the art of creating a world for pencil and paper role-playing. Forget Dungeons and Dragons; consider all the other publishers and games created out there for different kinds of characters, different kinds of worlds, and different kinds of play. To build a universe from your imagination, with discrete rules but an open-ended story? It's accomplishing more than a chain-written story ever could. It makes every player and game master an author in an overall collection of stories. The actions of a small adventure group build the story of a world that encompasses countless other personalities and persons. The potential for a collection of world-mythology combined with game-stories seems intriguing to me; and a potential window to insights into the human condition (so to speak).

All I'm saying is, any creative form that spins a narrative is worthy of study. Because when you acknowledge it as a legitimate medium, you encourage people to use it as a legitimate medium. When you acknowledge the graphic novel as an art form you open the format up to people less enthused with flat characters and formulaic action. They can see that characters in comics can be richly developed in the same way as their favorite novel characters. They can see how a gifted cinematographer, editor and director work visually as well as linguistically. And maybe they'll like to play video games that immerse them in a wholly unique world and plot where they're directly involved with the path of the story.

But, I guess that's wishful thinking. Because as is often the case, people fear change, and are ultimately conservative in many ways. English professors like WCD will fight vehemently against people studying non-canonical works. Everyone seems to like having someone else to look down on and say "Your work is unimportant! Do something useful!" I say, "Fuck you. Cultural artifacts are cultural artifacts. The study of facial tattoos by Levi-Strauss is no less important than your Christian analysis of the Lord of the Rings you pompous ass."

Ahem. Yes. So, in conclusion, a short reading...er...consumption? List (for those intrigued by the possibility of studying different forms): Digger (of Graphicsmash.com), Narbonic (www.narbonic.com), Frank Miller's Sin City (both print and film), Final Fantasy VII (PS1, and soon to be PS3). And that's just a short list of things you might dig on. Really you have to explore different mediums for yourself and your own tastes. Just don't give them short shrift because you can't be bothered to do your research (Ahem, Ms. Boxer).

On matters of taste

2005-08-16T23:47:00.000-05:00

There's a problem I keep having with working at Blockbuster. I'm privy to the movie preferences of a large portion of the town of South Brunswick, and as such I see what films tend to be the most popular, and what films don't ever get seen. And the sheer volume of bad movies that get watched astounds me. I don't mean bad in the sense of "I didn't find this film scary/funny/dramatic," but bad in the sense of "this movie was poorly shot, poorly edited, poorly scored, poorly written, and poorly acted." Overacting or underacting; bland camera angles or cinematography that leaves you with a headache; poorly designed cuts (I even once saw someone break the 180-degree rule*, for crying out loud!); it's just bad filmmaking and bad films. But people LOVE them. At least, they all rent them.

Now, I can understand a difference of taste. Some people don't care for gorey movies, others don't like anything too political, and still others might not care for naked people or drugs or gangs or whatever. I understand a difference of taste in content. I like things you might not like, and that's ok. But there's an appreciation of craft and form that is simply lost on the general population. I can look at a film I don't particularly enjoy, and give it credit for its craft (see the, uh, second? entry I made). These people have no concept of what a good film really is. They only know what entertains them, and what seems to entertain them is pap and bad filmmaking.

More than anything, they're all sheep, which is what I think bothers me the most. If the title says "Guaranteed in Stock!" they assume it has to be good. The more copies on the shelf, the better they assume it is. They'll rent based on taglines, or on the whole "From the producers tha tbrought you..." type advertising (btw, who the fuck cares who produced it? Producers pay money and manage the filmmaking. Sometimes, they're big assholes who demand changes to a movie to make it more marketable. They have zero stake in the craft of the film). Essentially they rent what they're told is good, or latch onto actors or actresses they like and will watch things they're in.

See, here's the problem with following actors and actresses. Sometimes, they work to make money. Other times, they get shittily written roles or scripts. And sometimes, they're shitty actors who happen to be hot. But people will watch it anyway.

And in the end, they'll say things like "It's not that great, but so-and-so's hot, so I watch it." Or, "I don't to think when I'm watching a movie. I just want to be entertained."

Oh. My. God. Do you have any idea how angry I get when I hear these things? They're ranked right up there with "Why don't you have this in Fullscreen?" and "It's only subtitled? I hate reading movies" (I'll get to this in a little bit). It's extremely frustrating that no-one wants to have any active role in watching movies; they really want to vegetate and have something appeal to their basest mental functions. The thought of thinking about a movie upsets them so much they'll say how awful it is and refuse to see it if it hints at being intellectual.

What scares me more is, this seems to be the way our country's population is about everything. Which is certainly no new observation, mind you, but seriously. On the whole the citizens of this "brilliant" nation are complete morons who want as little to think about as possible. Hence the emphasis on info-tainment, headlines over story content, and the lack of interest in reading and the rise of TV and bad movies. Ack.

Anyway, I digress. So here's the thing about all of that stuff that bugs me. People plop money down time and again for shitty movies, because they're advertised well. Perhpas they'll realize it wasn't that good, and won't buy it or go see it again in the theatres. Most of the time though, they'll just shrug and say "It was alright. At least it was entertaining," and be willing to see something just like it over and over again. So, what do you think happens when shitty movies make money? Here's a hint: if you can shoot it quickly, with in-expensive writers/directors/actors, spend as little as possible, and then get most of the population to go see it and possibly see it again solely based on advertising and not on quality, then they make a profit. And if they're making a profit, they'll use the same formula over and over again until it stops making a profit.

So what happens when you spend money on lousy movies? They make more. What do you think happens when people don't want to watch foreign films, because the thought of reading subtitles is so abhorrent? Well, mostly people don't pay to import them. Or they only import a few of them, and dub them terribly. Since nobody cares about foreign films in the US, they don't put any resources into developing quality voice actors (for the most part), and so we only get a small selection of foreign films.

But, I guess that's what most people here want. And so we get the more experimental, well thought out films made on small budgets by indie directors, and sometimes financed by the movie moguls more willing to take risks on unproven talent. And sure, Hollywood turns out gems once in a while, but usually those are no more than attempts for a studio to win itself an Oscar, and pander heavily to what's liked by the Academy. The economics of filmmaking are such that the major players in the industry will absolutely never push experimentation, because it's too high an economic risk. The best you'll get is if an indie director gets picked up by a distributor and makes a good profit, they might get asked to make a bigger-budget film. But, if it doesn't make a profit, they're sunk. And, since we seem to hate movies that ask you to think too much, it's hard to present new material that would require a new kind of viewing and still make money.

And thus ends my explanation of why I hate the people I wait on at Blockbuster, for the most part. They're destroying film! They're making me miserable! And for the love of God if one more person says "Ew, it's in black and white" when they look at Sin City I'm going to strangle them. Better yet, I'll garrote them. I don't want my fingerprints on their filthy hides.

* The 180 degree rule is a rule of cinematography that states when two characters are across from each other in dialogue, the shots in teh sequence should all be made from within a 180 degree arc spanning from one character to the other. Staying within that arc will always make one character seem to be on the left, and one on the right, thus preserving the perspective of the shot. Crossing the boundary flips the characters, and disorients the viewer. So, don't break the rule, jerk.

2005-08-15T21:33:00.000-05:00

So today sort of suddenly became the last day of my second summer class, as we discovered that grades are due this Friday, even though class ends on Wednesday, which means our previous plans to hold a writing workshop for our final papers on Wednesday was kind of moot. You know, since Sarah would have to read and grade them all Thursday night into Friday in order to get the grades in on time. And in the end, everyone more or less decided they would rather have the three hours to write instead of being in class, so Sarah opted to give office hours that day and cancel the class alltogether.

Which is kind of a shame. I really liked this class. Everyone got along well; everyone had something to say in discussions (and it usually was relevant and insightful); and I had a good time. Although there is one thing that was kind of weird. It appears that people found me particularly smart, and would always ask me questions as if I were some sort of authority on all things literary, theoretical, and Rutgers English Departmental.

See, I tend to feel weird when people praise me. While I can be a very cocky bastard among friends and to myself, with accquaintances/classmates/coworkers I don't always know how to react to that kind of praise or recognition. I'm usually inclined to just shrug my shoulders, smile meekly, and say "thanks."

I don't know why that is. I wonder if there's something about downplaying myself to classmates that somehow inhibits my brain? Like perhaps in an attempt to appear meek I don't do everything I'm capable of? I'd say that might be the case in the past, on the few instances someone has complimented me in class for something. But I don't know, this dynamic was different. I wasn't feeling awkward, I was just flattered. And rather than shy away, I tried to answer questions as best I could. Which, really, just meant saying "no, you're not dumb. That's a good idea," most of the time.

But there's one question I always would react the same way to. People would ask me what classes they should take, and I would get all excitable and say "The ones that excite you!" I don't like when people ask for confirmation of what's a good course from others. If I've had a particular professor, I'll be happy to give you my impression of them and as objective a view as possible of their methods. I won't assess difficulty, because that changes for everyone, and really I would be pissed if people turned down good classes because they seemed too hard. But mostly I hate recommending content. For example, I love Marx and Marxism. So taking a theory in Marxist Literary Theory made perfect sense for me; it fit my interests well. Taking Marxist Lit Theory when you don't particularly like theory, and you definetely hate Marx (or perhaps just like jerks like Ayn Rand) doesn't make as much sense. There are other courses to take, so go find a description that sounds good to you.

Maybe I'm just being a jerk, but I really do try to pick classes based solely on what seems most exciting to me, or what I think I should be taking. Who's teaching it, how early it is; I don't really care. Unless I were to get into a fight with a professor I won't shy away from anyone based on reputation or past experiences if the content is good enough. And I'll wake up every morning at 7 if it means taking a Film Theory seminar instead of something I'm not as excited about. And while I realize you have to fill some requirements at Rutgers, you can still pick good classes for you. I don't really like Medieval lit. for example, but there was a course called Medieval Literature of Dissent. Dissent and I are good buddies, and sure enough I loved the class even though the texts weren't always my favorites. The content was there, so it rocked.

But that's just me I suppose. Others don't always get as excited, and only want the easiest past through the major. And that means the nicest teachers, the easiest graders, and the most possible sleeping in/no class on fridays oriented schedule. Meh. We're all just different I suppose.

Nah, screw that. Those other people are wasting their time here. I feel confident in saying it. If you're taking classes to take classes, and not because they excite you in some way, you're wasting your time, your professor's time, and everyone else in that class's time. Drop it, and find something you care about. Otherwise, when you're old and miserable because you took shitty courses in college for shitty reasons, don't come crying to me. Okay?

On the term "Hybrid"

2005-08-12T23:09:00.000-05:00

It occurs to me now that I've already posted an initial entry that people might not understand why I've chosen the name "Hybrid writer" for myself here. It's not that I'm a mix of two separate species who has been specially bred as a genetic experiment, it's more about what I do and where my scholastic interest/writings would place me. Not sure what I mean? Well, here's how I see it.

There are sub-communities of academia which sometimes share members but nevertheless appear to be discretely separate organizations. Students of English are a mix of those interested in different fields/periods (Victorianists, Medievalists, Modernists, Post-Modernists) critical fields (psychoanalysts, marxists, post-colonialists) and different forms (poetry, novel, short story, graphic novel, film). I hear tell graduate school tends to try to focus your studies as much as possible to avoid you spreading yourself too thin over a variety of interests. So whereas an undergraduate might dabble in a plethora of time periods and forms, that same person as a graduate student would likely pick a period, a form, and perhaps even a school of theory/interpretation to focus on. Not to say the other interests will fall away completely, they just become secondary to the focus.

Luckily for me, I'm still an undergrad, though only for another year (I hope). After that I'll be post-grad, and then hopefully a graduate student, and at some point I wouldn't mind being a PhD. But for now I've had no narrowing of field, and my interests are pretty well varied over a variety of things.

So, where's the hybrid part come in? Glad you asked. See, I don't think of myself as a student with interests in film, theory, novels, and creative writing as separate concepts. My ideas about film overlap with my studies of theory, novels, and writing. The things I get from creative writing effect how I see films, theoretical texts, and novels. The ways I learn to look at novels are applied to film, theory, and writing. And the theory I read affects the way I think about everything. So you see, it's not a matter of discrete interests, it's a blending of everything into who I am, scholastically speaking.

I'm in the process of writing a paper on Wilkie Collins's _The Moonstone_ that focuses on the roles of border-figures or hybrid characters in the novel. These are characters that are part of two groups, but don't truly belong to either. As a result, I argue, they're given a greater degree of clarity when it comes to seeing the world, or specifically in the novel, the crime. The narrower the focus, the smaller the picture. A bunch of narrowed focuses? They'll just give you a bunch of small pictures. But combining your focus across a broader area? Well that expands the frame as a whole. You can see a bigger picture. And I don't know about you, but I like it when my picture's big. It's why I still love going to the movies, and why I loathe people who support Pan and Scan. Not that total clairvoyance is my goal, mind you, that would probably just drive me mad. No, I just like having a broader range of vision than a specific focus provides.

So, I kind of see myself as a hybrid at the moment. I'm part film student, part english student, part theory student, part amateur filmmaker, part musician, and part video-gamer; but I'm more than a collection of parts. In fact, saying I'm a percentage this and a percentage that distorts the whole idea. I'm me, and those are all influences on me, but they don't work like an addition formula, they work like montage. Soviet, Eisenstinian montage, to be exact.

See, Sergei Eisenstein and the Soviet filmmakers had this theory about editing. You put two images together (they don't have to make sense) and they'll create a third, entirely new image or idea to the viewer. Show a picture of a person with a blank face, show a shot of a bowl of soup, and the first thing the viewer will think of is hunger. [Or so the Kuloschov (spelling? My Russian is abhorrent) experiment showed].* So it's not just putting 1 and 1 together, it's how two different things crash against each other and make something new.

In my case, I like to think of it as a bunch of different influences crashing together and making me. So here I am. A hybrid of various inputs. What does that mean? Well, I guess that's the overreaching goal of this here blog. To see what all of that does to my way of thinking and writing. No single post is likely to show it all, but perhaps after a while a lot of different posts will crash together and give us a broader idea. Yeah, I like that. We'll stick with that.

So, come along if you like and join the ride. At worst, you'll get some movie and book recommendations that you may or may not enjoy. At best, we'll have an exciting and eye-opening intellectual experience. By which I mean we'll go "Dude! This rocks! Let's go drink a pint and play pool!" Because, really, that's what happens when I get excited. I crave Black & Tans and billiards. And that, as they say, is that.

* - Not only have I become obssessed with paranthetical inserts, but I've used a paranthetical insert in a paranthetical insert! Which, makes it a paranthetical insert in a bracketed insert. Man I'm such a dork.

Beginnings

2005-08-12T23:01:00.000-05:00

Hello folks, my name's Justin, and I've been blogging for years with another server, but decided I wanted to start a new blog somewhere else and keep things strictly academic, so to speak. I don't plan on making this much of a daily journal, but instead it will be more like the sub-heading says. I'll write here when I'm brainstorming ideas for papers I'm writing, see/read/hear things that catch my attention, or about creative writing I'm trying to do. Occasionally current events might spark a rant or two, but for the most part I just like the idea of separating my "this is what I did today" entries and my more "intellectual" entries into two different journals. That being said, perhaps I'll write something later tonight, but for now, this'll do. Thanks for stopping by.