SPOILER ALERT:
The Machinist is a bad knock-off of Fight Club and American Psycho, and I’m not just saying that because Christian Bale is in it. What’s great about the multiple personality “slash” psycho scenario is that when it’s done well, it’ll blow peoples’ minds. There’s no solid plot to go along with the movie, so all it is is a guessing game as to when to expect the next twist, which is really cool, when you have a fucking plot. I found myself getting really bored with it, and instead of going off to do something else, I decided to stick with it, because halfway through a bad movie, things can turn for the better. What did itself in, the movie, was give every scene the feeling of being a dark dream, cleverly putting the characters in atmosphere that made me feel just as tired as the insomniac lead role, and I was literally put to sleep in the middle of a chase scene. Identifying with the main character in such an inclusive way wouldn’t have been such a waste if I’d actually cared about him, but I didn’t. Christian Bale is an amazing actor, and he puts his all into every character he gets, which sucks when he is given a character like this one, who is purposefully an emotionless git with nothing to do than be a Joe, who would be much more entertaining being an extra in a car chase. You have a great actor like this, and you use him to portray a human log, you’ll get a class-A human log, but what the fuck good is that to somebody who wants to see a psychological thriller, which is the curtain that this movie hides behind? It was well assembled. The film looks, feels, sounds, and tastes natural, but in all sincerity, the talent and hard work is not worth the story, which isn’t present at all. People often joke about making a shitty movie called “M. Night Shyamalan’s The Twist” and we have it right here, made by Brad Anderson, starring Christian Bale.
July 9, 2009
The Machinist
July 3, 2009
June 18, 2009
June 10, 2009
June 9, 2009
June 7, 2009
Summer of Vista: days 1-4
June 3
A swelling storm of monotony. The only positive advents of this day were the explorations of musicians I’d not heard from since the 90s and finally finding the second season of The IT Crowd.
June 4
In high expectation of a sure-to-be-awesome Friday, Thursday was nothing but music, music, music. Weeding through unwanted tracks and finding the worthiest of listening material made time fly, but not as fast as I’d've liked. I also had the chance to test my tolerance of specific foreign food. I fell asleep often during the day, making it impossible to fall asleep for more than a few minutes every half hour at night.
June 5
Not getting adequate sleep, I was rather sluggish to begin with, at 4:00AM. Around noon, Lisa and I took off for The Terrace in James Island, and spent nine hours bullshitting in Charleston and getting back to Summerville. I got us a little lost on the way there, had to hold in a very long piss for half an hour while enjoying Brothers Bloom, walked into an art supplies store and couldn’t afford ANYTHING, lead us around in a giant circle downtown just to find a cafe that WASN’T full of uppity hipsters or vacationing tourists (and found a great little place called Cafe Cafe), was confused for Lisa’s boyfriend at a tattoo place (which I found hilarious), and insisted on watching Star Trek (for my second time)… and had the most pleasant day since I can remember.
June 6 (today)
Started the day 10 hours after falling asleep as soon as I got home, and woke up at 9:00AM for an hour to work on Lisa’s tattoo design before falling asleep for another couple of hours. Trying out more Asian imported foods. I’m a fan of some of it, but this awful vegetable-flavored soup makes me want to vomit. “Sometimes” by Sister Hazel’s playing right now, and I… feel the song. Dunno how else to explain it. I’m hoping to hit a bookstore later today, even if it’s with my folks.
June 5, 2009
Ah, shit!
Fuck my memory! I have been such a fucking idiot! I walk around, talking about shit, casually, and nobody even thinks of correcting me when I’m FUCKING WRONG! What the fuck?
June 2, 2009
Punisher: War Zone
I’ve not read much of the Marvel MAX Punisher series that so many people dig, but I’ve read enough from MAX to know just how fucking cartoony they make some of their ideas. The latest Punisher movie is made in such a way, with such goofy villains… well the thing that made the movie work was how goddamn well the lead actor played Punisher. What a piece of shit this movie would have been if he didn’t take this movie as seriously as he seemed to with his performance. His dedication to the role really kept what little suspension for disbelief I could tolerate intact, as difficult to read my own words on the matter has become. A moment without Ray Stevenson was either boring or… stupid. Though, the maturity with which they approached the brothers’ dedication to each other was charming.
Seriously, the shit got so fucking looney that I really expected a limbless Ma Gnucci to come flying out of an exploding building to chew on Stevenson’s boots. Other than Ray’s performance, before I forget, I must say that the approach to appear logical, the way MAX tries to, with comments about where Frank Castle’s weaponry comes from and the general attitude of the police force toward him… kept things from spiraling out of control. I might watch this again, but with friends, so we can all enjoy making fun of it, and no time soon at all.
May 22, 2009
BRICK
A mystery noir with teenage cats in the middle of a drug ring gone undone, the film is a clever mockery and homage to some of the coolest elements of mystery theatre and teen angst. Great, through and through. Some jump cuts really fuck with the feeling, but when placed where tension already exists, they blow the mind. Some other effects that do the trick, but mostly a bunch of visuals that try to convey the idea more than set the mood. Never noticed the music, which means it was never there, or I was completely immersed in the scene, which I mostly was. Great acting, and some good camera tricks to help out those not-so-fresh-moments for the lesser performances.
May 17, 2009
The Wrestler
A remarkable film which follows a fictional has-been wrestler in a terribly real world, Mickey Rourke acts his ass off in The Wrestler, moving and sounding like a man who’s spent his greater days fighting and putting on the greatest show on Earth, and a man who’s as changed over the years as the time around him changes, a performance that is fully realized by a complete set of fully realized characters and the presentation of a candid documentary. With shaky-cam moments and rough cuts, the camera men may be assumed to be intruding on the reality of The Ram’s world, but they actually melt away into the dusty surface of the rest of the film, and makes us feel like a personal pal following these characters as we would if we knew them in real life.
The movie is not afraid to tell us the greater differences from today and the prior twenty years which are summed up by a bulletin of posters and clippings, by showing us the advances in technology and culture that Randy the Ram refuses to make. Rourke’s character is lovable and endearing, despite the mistakes he makes, and even though we see that there are two sides to every story, I find myself favoring Randy’s perspective, no matter how flawed and naive it seems. I love the guy.
Music placement is natural for the setting, and cleverly synchronized to the action, and there’s no lack for believable atmosphere. I am nearly convinced that I am watching a real man’s struggle in a cruddy fuckin’ world, in a crumby little place just like every other little-America in every state, which combined with rough cuts and cheap audio, confine the character, and make him seem as constricted as he feels, while he’s hated by the women he loves and his only escape from life is the sport that can kill him at any moment.
I feel a bit of delight to see him using that outdated hearing aid.
I don’t care how old they make Marisa Tomei look, she’ll always be fucking gorgeous.
Ayatola’s gotta be the goofiest politically incorrect character I’ve seen so far.
Riveting ending.
SCRIPT: respectable
ACTION: amazing
DIRECTION: amazing
CONTENT: respectable
It seems that I’ve taken on a series of excellent movies, and my ratings are repeating… perhaps I should work on that new system I was contemplating.
May 13, 2009
Harold and Maude
I certainly can’t call this movie any sort of favorite, and I can’t guarantee I’ll recommend it to other’s, but it ain’t all bad.
First impressions, before watching the film, were that this would be some cartoony overblown comedy with shamefully polite humor. From the get-go, the way Harold commits false suicides is not only a failed attempt at morbid humor, but it is also lacking in proper timing and remorse for the actress, Sunshine (whom I fell completely in love with as soon as I heard her speak… what an unappreciated character with such strange potential).
Most of the film has been boring so far, with hints of attempts to be zany of clever that did not work out, like the motorcop chase and Maude’s introduction. I can tell that scenes like this are intended to make the conventional viewer feel sly for getting away with watching these characters enjoy being careless, but I am not repressed and I have many thoughts beyond convention, so the plot seems… irrelevant. However, some very brief moments were enjoyable, and carried off with such sharm, but without the incredibly unbearable warm-ups from the previous scenes, I would have felt completely different about them. Thus far into the movie, the heart warming bits included Harold’s Jag/hearse scene, and Maude’s invitation to touch her sculpture (which had a feminine presence, due to some similarities to the vagina, that made me approach the scene as a metaphor for Maude’s open acceptance of Harold’s purity and quirkiness, and Harold’s naivety and obnoxious rush to get to the climax… and by that I mean to compare his quick rush to stick his head through the center, and his eagerness to enact death… I could go on comparing that very scene to the rest of Harold and Maude’s relationship throughout the film, but I won’t right now). I also loved, beyond doubt, the moment when Harold’s uncle tries to calm his crazed, sign swinging nephew, and wound up staring at his own reflection. I thought, perhaps this arrogant man can show som capacity for change, that there was a chance for him to redeem himself in my eyes, by seeing what a pathetic caricature he was. Such heart-fluttering stopped, when the possibility of this was dashed, an approach that I can only assume to be purposeful on part of the filmmakers.
On the matter of the two main characters’ relationship, I find it disturbing that the makers of the film found it acceptable to make Harold such a cartoon of suicidal teenagers, and Maude such of eccentric seniors. It’s very possible to make them realistic and accept that they would make such an endearing pair.
Music slightly reminds me of “The Graduate”’s Simon and Garfunkel soundtrack, and falls flat on the ground in comparison.
I am struck.
Having just witnessed Maude tell of her intentions for suicide, I have suffered a dark blow. A sign that despite the film’s shortcomings, I have grown attached to the characters enough to care about them as living beings.
This movie may not be the best, or the most touching, but like a banjo, it accomplishes the simpler approaches to a deeper and more meaningful outcome than most other simple instruments ever try to. A movie to be reckoned.
SCRIPT: respectable
CONTENT: alright
DIRECTION: respectable
ACTION: respectable
May 10, 2009
STAR TREK
A dramatic space-opera and prelude to the Star Trek continuity, this recent Trek film doesn’t pay homage, like the series of predecessors, to the original show, but completely embodies the series of characters and the universe in which they live without wasting time away from the plot, which weaves very finely between campy and complex… as I watch the years wind into another age for my own generation to dominate, I can see that film has once again entered a status of quality and appreciation that was almost completely lost in the Star Wars prequels and Tim Burton’s Batman.
MUSIC: Nothing to rave about, but very moving at times.
ACTING: Spot-on, without a cinch of wasted potential. The characters were fully realized and used apropriately, as most expected them to be abused and sodomized.
SPEC-FX: Amazing. I’ve seen some big-ship effects, but this movie really does it for me the way The Motion Picture did when I first saw it. And the no-pitstop-for-you attitude on alien species who appeared whenever made the feeling of the atmosphere seem natural to the actors, if you understand what I mean.
Right now, I’m knee deep in my own sweat and snot, shirtless and senseless, so whatever trash comes out of this is… trash… I guess.
SCRIPT: A thoroughly compelling story WITHOUT plotholes! Holy Hell, I expected something borderline magic-god-machine to fly out of Kirk’s ass the way it did in Wrath of Khan, and I am far more eager to follow this new Romulan villain rather than a fully developed (and slightly interesting) one from the original series.
To think of how great a Khan movie could have been… had it not been made until… well, it’s not like we can go back in time.
What was also great about the plot of the script is that it doesn’t RELY on what people got from the show, like Khan does. An audience can go right into the film head-first, and understand everything, because it’s a fresh start for all of these characters.
Watchoo say 'bout mah mama?
I certainly hope that… well… it’s been a long time waiting for a science-fiction film like this to come along, for me, and I have the deepest and sincerest hopes that my generation can develop a greater sense of understanding to the appeal of the genre. Sci-Fi doesn’t have to have a community anymore, does it? With the information age just beginning, aren’t we all a step closer to understanding that the scientific elements of the fictional stories are just… excuses for getting the idea across? Maybe this and other exemplary films in the future can encourage a revival of Sci-Fi youth enthusiasm that came with Star Wars and got fat watching the same damn movies over and over again until they miraculously bred a generation of wise-ass little shits who “rebel” by refusing to watch anything with “star” in the title.
Watch the fucking movie.
May 5, 2009
So, I thought I might be able to read the Blackest Night prelude and not get confused all to hell.
Just outside of Soundwave Records and Comics...
A free prelude to Wolverine's first appearance in Hulk 180...
A PURCHASED prelude to Cap's first issue...
May 4, 2009
Supreme Power
Supreme Power composed of a few characters that made tiny apearances in the Marvel Universe, back in the day. Their origin is simple: a knockoff of DC’s Justice League, complete with impervious aliens, feminist goddesses, rich vigilantes, powerful space-jewelry, and someone who runs fast. Hell, they even found a way to improve Aquaman.
Marvel Max’s return to the characters not only acknowledges the almost shameful ripoff nature of the characters, but parodies the originals! Can’t get any better? Aquaman’s a chick, and Bizzaro is an ex-con military assassin! Buh-bam, bitches! Batman’s even turned into a Black Panthers advocate! And fuck my ass with a ten-foot pole if that’s not the best revision of a heavily convaluded and hole-filled plot with characters who bear amazing untapped potential! The story get’s far too difficult to bear when it forgets what it is, and wants to form Squadron Supreme, but the original run is a fantastic modern comic, something not quite comparable to Watchmen, but just as enjoyable.
High Fidelity
John Cusack plays a moronic, selfish prick with his gorgeous head up his gorgeous ass where he stores an endless pile of albums I’ve never heard of.
Well, it’s not a bad movie, but it’s not as great as some friends would lead me to believe. The biggest downer is that, because the script is presented much like how I identify with outher writers (by relating the characters and their interaction to myself and my own life, since the greatest dialogue always comes from the author-based narrator and two characters polarly opposite in behavior, but connected by a strong set of ideals shared as equally strong with the narrator himself, which shows that the author wrote a very subject version of himself to tell a story with two bumbling idiots as accomplices to represent the high-strung and the sheepish sides of him simultaneously…) I assumed that I would unconditionally love the main character. The first half hour of the whole damn movie has me at odds for whether I should hate him for being the kind of person I should hate (the kind of person that one of my dearest friends in the world might flash-back to with hints of great spite and perhaps anger) and love him for being the kind of person I should love (an obsessed fan of popular culture who quite aware of his own self absorbed flaws which he tries to mend over time and eventually becomes a better person…) …
Well, off of the complications with the main character that I have due to complications I face within myself, the script is a charming story that follows a man’s average life and is burdened by the awareness of an audience that WANTS to think of the story as a romantic comedy, which shows in scenes that cut away from the story where Cusack’s narration turns from a varying verbal orchestral piece with highs, lows, uneasiness, forebodance, pain, and pleasure… to child-talk: moments when it seemed the character was rewritten to explain the character’s conflicts to an audience that could not put two and two together.
No flashy images. Average static. Average conversation staging. Average character focus. Very little action pans. It’s filmed very much like an MTV top-list-countdown, back when the video-jockey would talk into a series of five or six different cameras while standing on the same set, which matches the content and the very mellow pace of the film, and I applaud, despite how tired I am with the approach having been used in almost every eighties movie that wasn’t reliant on stupid humor or jazz music to sway the mood.
Of course the music was good. What, you think a music connesiure’s gonna write a book and some dumb-fuck’s gonna turn it into a movie without knowing how to assemble a soundtrack? Duh! No misplacement. No bullshit. Though, the characters really demand that I pay more attention to their own tastes, and for a moment, being caught in the action and the flow of the scene, I have to suspend my own opinions in disbelief, especially when Cusack says “Frampton?” in a disgruntled sigh. I’m open-minded enough to let it slide, since his opinion is a heavy element in the development of the story in the scene to follow, but if I weren’t, would I have the patience to sit through endless dialogue about how good a girl can sing if the setup didn’t pull through? Probably not, which is true to the content, but fickle when I have to bend backwards for a romantic comedy formula, and be the only one in the room who gets a Frampton joke that isn’t funny to begin with.
And speaking of out-of-place jokes that aren’t that funny to begin with… “Thanks, Boss”?! Are you fuckin’ kidding me? I might’ve stopped watching at that point, had I not revelled in the fact that I got a reference none of my friends would’ve gotten and thrown a little party in my head called the “I’m almost cool enough to be like the grown-ups” bash. A party that got old after seeing Ian’s character the third time, but my distaste was heavily overweighed by my delight in John Cusack kicking some Steven Segal knockoff’s ass.
SCRIPT: respectable
ACTING: respectable
DIRECTION: respectable
CONTENT: respectable
May 2, 2009
Soul Track Mind
Awesome band in Austin, Texas.
http://soultrackmind.com/stm/
Check them out.
April 20, 2009
By the way…
Stop searching for it, you loathesome metahuman filth! “How to draw the Watchmen characters” exists in the form of being an artist and drawing the fucking characters, not being told by an artist how to make a line-by-line reinterpretation of the characters! You want to feel the joy of finishing a piece of art, TAKE THE TIME AND FACE THE SHIT THAT THE REST OF US HAVE TO! By next week, if “how to draw the Watchmen” is still in my list of “top search” whatever-the-fucks, I’m going to rip off your heads and shit down your necks!
April 16, 2009: Sometime between 7:15 AM and 8:00 AM
Behind every public restroom door is a man sucking on the red, woolen sleeves of another man’s shirt. That can’t be every place, though, there are only so many clubs in California. When the deal’s complete, I can hurry home and see the kids. At least I know that they won’t be tainted by the ugly habits I’ve witnessed here, tonight. I laugh to think that somewhere, sometime, Ben could find himself in a restroom, forced to make love to the stained, tattered clothes of a mad homosexual rapist.
Now, I can’t manage a grin. What a world I’ve raised my children in, where strangers violate the mind with the very shirts on their backs. God forbid that Ben or Richard become those very villains. They’d rape the whole family overnight in a drugged stupor. What madness.
April 15, 2009
Things. Things. Things…
Uh. Hmm. Yeah. I think. Think.
“Why don’t you think about God?”
“There are more important things.”
“What is more important?”
“I think about the gray material in the fabric of those…”
“That’s more important than God?”
“The texture in the bricks, and why they’re so rough compared…”
“Is THAT more important than God?”
“The finish on the boards. The pleather on this podium. The light fixtures. The electricity going through them, the cords that feed into them, their source of power. Is there a generator here in the complex, if so, does the school use a public generator or a privately owned one, and if it’s public, who forms the committee to decide that THIS school gets to use it instead of others, and why other schools are taken down… do you see what I’m eventually getting to?”
“Yes. Why do you think about all of these things?”
“That’s how I look at the world!”
“Why look at everything?”
“Life! It’s like a painting! You don’t cut off a corner or focus on a single color! Look at the whole thing.”
The whole thing. Good and bad. Light and dark. It’s all so wonderful, isn’t it? Why focus on just positives? Why focus on just negatives? I see it all as best I can. I look at the world the only way I know how. And I still feel like shit.
No matter what I do or don’t do, I still feel like shit.
“If you wish to be happy, be.” Every time someone quotes Tolstoy, I get sick. I seem to be the only one who knows the quote and can’t control my own… How can I make myself feel happy?
Do things that make me feel good. I do that.
Still feel like shit.
Is this a cry for help? Don’t I have enough of those, already? Won’t it ever stop? Can’t I just, sort of, stop… everything for a while? No art. No music. No writing. No acting. No sitting. No breathing. No feeling. Just a bit? A little fuckin’ bit? Give my mind a break, if only for a moment? I’ll get back to the bullshit and the awesome and the stupid and the funny and the drama and the art and the love and the thoughts… after at least just a moment of rest. Rest. What a horrible thing to think.
Everything that my folks are going through and all I can think about is myself. I do not go back to a negative place in guilt. I just state the thoughts that occured to me within the few seconds I spent before starting the entry. And look at how long it’s taken me. Jesus Christ.
How can I live with myself? Caring about my own mind, so selfishly. What about the people I love, man? They’ve got things. They want rest. Is it to be my burden to guilt myself into thinking and caring for eveyone else who can think and care for themselves? What of my empathy? It’s there. Why am I not so sure now?
April 11, 2009
April 8, 2009
The Post with No Name
Fistful of Dollars (Joe):
I’m totally biased, especially having seen both the original Japanese film and the Spaghetti remake as an impressionable child. Yojimbo, a story about a wise warrior outwitting two feuding gangs, retold as a western with an impressively amazing soundtrack and well framed sequences.
I won’t use my regular rating system for this one, since it’s been a while since I have seen it.
For a Few Dollars More (Manco):
An unnamed gunman travelling through the arid, untamed western front (again) teams up with an equally mysterious bounty-hunter to collect on a team of bandits and their maniacal boss. A thrilling story that draws its romantic borders of good and bad the way great westerns do, and never forgetting how to wind its audience up for a good climactic sequence. Even balance of lights and darks, paced motion (relying not mostly on dialogue, not mostly on still motions, and not mostly and too much motion)… though the flashback sequence is a bit too long for me. It probably should have been revisited more than twice, and each time lasting no more than half a minute. Reminding me what happened in a slow-paced flashback makes me feel like I’m too stupid to follow the simplest of revenge plots. And some more awesome music.
SCRIPT: good
ACTION: respectable
DIRECTION: amazing
CONTENT: respectable
The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly (Blondie):
An unnamed gunman travelling through the arid, untamed western front (again) teams up with a not-so-trustworthy cat (again) to find the stolen fortune of a dead soldier, while being chased by a ruthless assassin. Throughout all of the films in this somewhat-trilogy, Clint Eastwood’s character is recognized as the hero, but is treated in every story as a mechanism to resolved unfinished business. In Fistful, he gives the captive woman and her family a happy ending, and brings peace to the town, without really noticing. In A Few Dollars, he gives the colonel his vengeful resolution and ends the villain’s internal torture in doing so, without really trying. In this movie, the “man with no name” teaches his witty pal Tuco a series of life lessons, provides the comfort of companionship he so desperately desires, and allows Tuco the pleasure of ending a period in his life with the death of a great adversary of his. This movie IS a movie, not about the unnamed gunman, but about Tuco, beginning to end, and frankly, I love Tuco more as a three-dimensional character than Blondie as the awe-inspiring predictable badass. The music shakes my soul. The tension of Ennio’s “The Trio” and the sheer energy I get just from humming “Ecstasy of Gold” is incredible. The visual comedy is another point to admire. Union soldiers camouflaged by gray dust, the look on Tuco’s face when he realizes Blondie will shoot the noose… superb. An altogether greater movie than either preceding… it drives a story and pleases the eye, as Fistful told a story and A Few Dollars pleased the eye… The opening credits were kind of corny, though.
SCRIPT: amazing
ACTION: respectable
DIRECTION: amazing
CONTENT: amazing
March 28, 2009
March 27, 2009
March 21, 2009
BATTLESTAR GALACTICA
Growing up in the 70s, my mom had attached herself to Battlestar Galactica as a kid. The show was not impressive, and the science fiction was mostly fiction with little science.
Tonight, the end of a four-year period has arrived. I’ve grown up with BSG, and with the end of a period in life comes the end of a period on television. Raised by the dramatic clash between humans and machines, other humans, and monsters on several different screens, I have come to look at entertainment as a map.
Those of the previous generation have their own televised landmarks. I have BSG. An event that got me through every week of Hell on Earth: middle school… and now, I feel the gracious impact of completion, as those who’d seen Return of the Jedi on opening night had. So many great things have come from the show business since my birth, and the joy welling within me for knowing this, for experiencing it happen right before my very eyes, is something that until recently I could only dream of.
Life has many pleasures to offer, and the one I feel now is great right now, but what is it the the boundless opportunities that the world has to offer? What opportunities may I inspire or create? What love can be had? What lives coould I change for the better?
An event like this, which has spanned my entire adolescence, makes me realize how wonderful everything is.
March 11, 2009
Bob’s Journal: March 10th, 2009
Milk carton on sidewalk corner this morning, foot stepped on burst carton. This school is afraid of me. I have seen its true face. The hallways are extended urinals and the urinals are full of piss and when the cigarette butts finally dry out, all the insects will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and violence will foam up about their waists and all the punks, nerds and jocks will look up and shout “teach us!” …
and I’ll look down and whisper “fuck off.”
March 9, 2009
Necronomiconfusion
Just finished reading the four-part comic rendition of Lovecraft’s book. It was fairly entertaining, perhaps more so than the book would’ve been.
Nothing spectacular about the story, other than the absolute reliance on generally well known multi-cultural reference. The art was spectacular, and it impresses me even more knowing how vague Lovecraft was on describing that which no sane mortal being could bear complete witness to, and how baffled his characters were when attempting to explain the supernatural elements of his stories. Damn good comic, actually.
I have issued my request for challenges. My friends are expected to provide a list of portraits that they will expect of me. I think a lot of good will come of this. My first challenge was for a portrait of an online friend, whose complete face I have seen only one grainy picture of. This should be fun.
