A Thousand People Freezing Their Butts Off Waiting to Worship a Rat

I suppose one of the reasons this movie is such a classic is that in it, The King of Smug Insincerity has to come to terms with the shortcomings of that very personality. It never gets old to me. I could watch it over and over and over and over.



For fans of the CW show "Supernatural," (which I will confess I enjoy) they did an episode based on the movie.

Living Color

I had a great aunt who lived in Rochester, New York, home of Kodak. I only visited her home once as a boy, and I remember being disappointed that she didn't take me to tour the great temple of the photography gods. Aunt Angeline is gone now. And so is Kodachrome.

All things must pass, and seldom do I lament their passing, but today is a little different as we mourn the crossing of Kodachrome to the great beyond. Cassette tapes? Yeah - goodbye, glad you're gone. VCRs? I cringe at your bulky antiquity. Same goes for most outdated technology (except reel-to-reel multi-track decks). But Kodachrome had no equal.

I long ago switched to digital and haven't shot on film in years, much less Kodachrome, but it WAS a magical film. (And any REAL photographer will tell you that digital cannot be held in the same class as film.) And how, WHY would we hang on to that technology in the face of the digital SLR?  It just didn't make sense anymore to PAY for film, PAY to have it developed, and then HOPE that half your images didn't suck when they finally arrived.

Kodachrome was to still images what Technicolor was to moving pictures. Why do you suppose we love the apps that turn our iPhone pictures into neo-retro relics of another era? Just do an image search for Kodachrome and see what all these old-timers are crying about. That little yellow box turned color photography into art.

And since so many people in marking its passing will quote Paul Simon's 1973 song of the same name, I will post an old ad for Kodachrome with the body copy replaced by the poetic highlights of Mr. Simon's lyrics that captured the magic of the product. (Click it, like a shutter button.)

I half expect a camera crew to accost Paul Simon soon as he leaves his New York apartment, begging for a comment on the death of his old friend and collaborator.   

(Original ad found here at THE technical source for what made Kodachrome great. Also, the original ad's copy will let you kids know what it was like to actually have to WAIT to see your pictures.)

Promotional Poster

Saw a cool picture via NVC over at "A Conversation on Cool" where James Dean is about to hurt Rock Hudson's balls on the set of Giant.

Major Mike Adams thought he'd beam in and witness it.

Hope That Something Pure Can Last

This is what they will play for you on your deathbed, like the old man in Soylent Green watching the film of flowers before he's wheeled into the processor to become snack crackers. (Did I lose you, kids? Look it up.)

Indie band Arcade Fire, in cooperation with "some friends from Google," have showcased the capabilities of HTML5 with director Chris Milk through the website The Wilderness Downtown. Type in the address of a childhood home (or any address for that matter) and wait a bit. Provided you grew up in a suburb, the film will aptly reflect the title of the band's latest release, The Suburbs. (Is there something about Canadian bands and their obsession with subdivisions? "Any escape might help to smooth the unattractive truth," I suppose. Look it up.)

Having moved around quite a lot as a child, I watched it several times using different addresses. The birds cast shadows over your neighborhood and the running child can be seen from the birds' view on high, running down your old street. As he/she spins on the wet asphalt, the scene in front of your old house begins to spin. It's like a dream, honestly, up to the point where the film asks you to write a letter to your childhood self, which I found to be an overwrought stretch. I was enjoying a journey, not looking for a therapy session.

The video, as far as I can tell, is only viewable in Google's Chrome browser, and it's a little clunky. Even still, it's worth it. But believe the warning: "This film is processor intensive. Please shut down other programs and close unnecessary browser tabs. Doing this will enhance your viewing experience. Thanks."

Is it a clever promotion for Google's Chrome, still slow to be adopted after two years? Is it a smart publicity piece for Arcade Fire's new music? Is it a showcase for the capabilities of HTML5? Yes, yes and yes. What's more, it's a hauntingly beautiful piece of art, it's a good (and catchy, damnit) song, it's an unexpected trip into your childhood, and the lyrics recall an innocence that will make you nostalgic for the time before "the flashing lights settled deep in your brain."

Via

Clash of The Critics

No matter what movie you decide to see, some critics will love it and some will hate it. I saw Clash of the Titans a couple days ago at the supercheap theatre, you know the one, where films not yet on DVD but not in real theatres anymore are playing, where it only costs a dollar to get in and the refreshments aren't outrageously priced and the place is not so clean and maybe some of the theatres are having trouble with their air-conditioning and so maybe there's an ugly scratch in the film that persists throughout the whole duration, but hey, you paid a buck for a movie so what are you complaining about?

I generally rely on Rotten Tomatoes to give a good and widespread assessment of a movie before I go see it or rent it On Demand. I didn't this time. And I'm glad, 'cause at a 33% favorable rating, I might've missed some mindless summer afternoon fun. Definitely not Oscar-caliber, but what do you expect from a movie based on a movie from 1981?

Here's that snob Peter Travers from Rolling Stone:

"The film is a sham, with good actors going for the paycheck and using beards and heavy makeup to hide their shame."

But then here's Colin Covert of the Minneapolis Star Tribune:

"At the moment when Sam Worthington, trapped inside a giant scorpion, sword-hacked his way through the dorsal carapace and poked the upper half of his body through the opening as if it were a sunroof, I fell in love with Clash of the Titans."

Have you ever read a terrible review of your favorite band's new album and wanted to punch the critic in the face? Or saw a nasty write-up of one of your favorite restaurants by some nose-in-the-air food critic? The critics aren't right, they're just being critics. But sadly, they can doom a play, new CD, movie or dining establishment with a hastily slammed-out screed.  

It's fun to ignore the critics one in a while and just go have fun.

Monorails and Sky Trams

(El clicko, por favor.)

One of THOSE Movies

Before the reviews are in, I can already write the blurbs for the upcoming full-page ads.

"Jeff Bridges turns in the performance of a lifetime."
- Sycophant Critic, Major Publication

"Jeff Bridges was born for this role."
- Unknown Climber, Unknown FOX Affiliate

"Robert Duvall was born to play Jeff Bridges' dad."
- Some Loser, Robert Duvall Fan Club

"Roll out the red carpet! I smell Oscars!"
- Drooling Fanboy, Entertainment Blog

It's got everything: washed-up country singer, tough single mom reporter, Robert Duvall, and a story likely to warm your cold heart. Only thing is that I saw it already. It was called "Tender Mercies," starring Robert Duvall.



But all the snark and cynicism aside, I will likely rent it.

YouTubin' At Work

Terry Gilliam predicted it in 1985 in this scene from "Brazil," a movie you should seek out if you haven't seen it.

You're Tearing Me Apart, Lisa

Having no hipster credentials, I am only now, this minute, discovering The Room, bad cinema at it's baddest. So bad it's a cult hit. So bad they have monthly screenings in LA that are attended in Rocky Horror fashion. So bad even the voiceover for the trailer is laughable. So bad that the creator now says "I meant to do that." (And altered the trailer at the end to indicate that his movie is a "black comedy.")

It's kind of sad, really, that a guy set out to create something giant, seeking to emulate his hero Tennessee Williams, and his work is now famous for it's awfulness. I hope he finally sees some profit for all his pain. This is what the incredibly narcissistic writer, director, producer and star did for $6 million.



A thorough history of The Room is written by Scott Tobias at The Onion's AV Club. Beyond that is a piece at Entertainment Weekly, in which all the cool kid comedians have a laugh at the movie, including Paul Rudd, comedian du jour, no stranger to truly awful cinema.

Sexual Harrassment: It Works Both Ways

In your dreams, dudes.

The lawyer suggests that you tell "the temptress" to stop calling you "strong" and to stop seeking you out on the warehouse floor in her tight leather skirt. It's really bothersome. Classic early 90s production and slinky music in this CYA film apparently written as comedy.

Taken (for an Implausible Ride)

Sometimes you just want to see a movie. And sometimes the showtimes and your schedule only allow you to see one of two. You don't want to see some throwaway Steve Martin crap, so you go with Liam Neeson. He used to be a Jedi Knight, so it should be OK.

A few things wrong with the Liam Neeson film "Taken."

• Overt attempts to fan racial hatred. I now look at all Albanians with deep suspicion. And French people. And anyone who has the word "Sheik" in front of their name.
• The girl playing Neeson's daughter. She is supposed to be 17, but bounces around like a 6-year old in every scene, spastic, uncoordinated and way overdoing the "Daddy's little girl" thing.
• Mr. Neeson's hair. It is that odd mixture of chocolate and rust that is not found in nature. Why is it that men, even rich men with professional hair and make-up artists, can't get a good dye-job? At one point in the film, Liam's temples are grey, then they go back to Hershey's Special Dark in the next scene.
• The idea that two 17-year-old girls are going to follow U2 around Europe for a summer is so ridiculous it is laughable. U2? Seriously? Does ANY 17-year old girl give two shits about U2? I'll bet the teenage daughters of the members of U2 don't even listen to U2.
• The car chases and fight scenes are shot in that super-close, rapid-cut, blurred-out way that makes the action impossible to follow. All the director wants you to understand is that Liam is kicking asses and they were on a tight budget.
• Mr. Neeson's endless supply of costumes, fake IDs, weapons and whatnot is very extensive for a guy who packed some cash and a passport as he raced out of his dingy and sad divorced dad apartment in LA.
• After dispatching everyone on the Sheik's luxury barge at the end, Liam and his daughter reunite in a teary, touching embrace as the pilotless barge continues to sail smoothly down the Seine.
  

I won't give away the ending, but OK, I just did. Here's more wrap-up: As you now know, Neeson gets his daughter back from the evil slave-trading Albanians and earns the respect and gratitude of his hateful ex-wife who married some rich dick who owns all kinds of stuff. He also takes his daughter (who wants to be a singer) to meet "Sheerah," a pop diva whom Liam rescued early in the film from some knife-wielding psycho backstage. You see, Liam was hired by his old CIA pals to provide security, even though Sheerah already had her own Uzi-wielding security force.

"Taken" - Coming to DVD by the end of the week.

I Take it Back - Music Video Isn't Dead Yet

This one, from Keb Mo, took some prizes recently at a film festival.



Thanks to Every Sandwich for tweeting about Keb Mo and prompting me to look this up.

I Will Watch This One Day

Yesterday the agenda at Casa de Jetpacks consisted mainly of getting caught up on movie-watching. (We'll do the big feast thing tonight.) Among them, Bourne Ultimatum, Oceans 13, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and an oldie (1995) I hadn't seen yet, To Die For, starring Nicole Kidman as herself. Unless a film requires viewing on the big screen, like the upcoming The Day The Earth Stood Still, starring Keanu Reeves as himself, it's On Demand around here.

I have become a huge fan of this newer, improved Frat Pack that eclipses the old Vince Vaughn/Ben Stiller gang. They are putting out comedies at an astonishing rate that are pretty good films. (Vaughn is in yet another Christmas movie that looks horrendous, playing himself.) The group includes a couple of crossovers from the old gang, like Will Ferrell and Paul Rudd. And while you can tell this film below is going to follow the formulaic "inappropriate humor delivered by guys who refuse to grow up ending in a life lesson about doing the right thing" template, you can also tell that it will deliver the funny.

From Kintore East to Yuendumu

Stan, as well as the Monkey Messiah, both alert me to a new campaign from Australian film director Baz Lurhmann for Australia tourism. In this spot (a likely never-to-be-aired :90) the harried NYC executive gets the news from her guy that “we need to take a break.” You’re not sure if that means, “Let’s go on vacation” or “Let’s start seeing other people.” But when she gets back to her apartment, he calls again, this time saying, “You’re not the same person I fell in love with.” Ouch.

So the darling Aboriginal child sneaks into her apartment and sprinkles her with magic red sand from the Australian desert, whispering the solution to her life and love woes: Walkabout!

Dissolve to snake-infested billabong somewhere in the fly-infested desert, where harried executive and her guy are getting ready to make love by moonlight, complete with the magical red sand infesting the crevices of their bodies. Would’ve been much cheaper to just get a cabin in the Adirondacks if "rejuvenation" is the only selling point of Australia.



It’s pretty. It tells a story. It’s engaging. But as someone who actually plans to visit (perhaps live in) Australia some day, it seems a bit of a cliché. Mystical Aboriginal girl, the whole Walkabout thing, the buzzing, cold and dark city versus the calm country contrasts already done to death in the Squatsi trilogy. Why not throw in Steve Irwin for good measure? Oh, that’s right. Sorry.

I guess I want the actual Australia I’m going to see, not the fabled Outback Steakhouse version. Avoid the Opera House and Ayers Rock, of course, but maybe make Australia a little more tangible and real. I have an image of Australia that doesn't involve billabongs. It's about sunny beaches and vibrant cities, verdant valleys and cool people.

Then again, that cliché may have been done to death already as well.

My Review of The Dark Knight*

What a waste of money. What a total suckfest. What pure, over-hyped crap. Perfect example of the marketing getting way ahead of the deliverable. Horrible acting. Unimaginative script. Lame cinematography. Stupid special effects. Id' have had a better time watching my grass grow. Heath Ledger blows. Christian Bale needs a new job flipping burgers at Wendy's. Morgan Freeman, Michael Caine and the rest of the supporting cast were phoning it in. Don't waste your time.


*Disclaimer: Today is Opposite Day. (I'm such a Joker.) And if Heath Ledger wins a posthumous Academy Award for his performance, it won't be out of sympathy that it was awarded to him. The guy finished his career in style.

If You Don't Laugh, You're Likely Dead

Or maybe your humor is just not as juvenile as mine and about two million other fans of this stuff. If I'm late to this, I blame a coworker who sent it around the office today.

I love weird ideas. This one had to have been hatched spontaneously when some drunk guy was rambling to his buddies about history.

The concept: get people drunk and have them tell you what they know about history, then have the scenes being told acted out hilariously by the moderately famous and the pretty famous. This is the fourth installment from Drunk History, a YouTube creation of Derek Waters. This one has around 55K views after only a week. The first one (uploaded last Christmas) has been viewed nearly 1.7 million times.

Low Tech Super Creative

As I'm fond of pointing out, it doesn't always take a giant budget and a huge rack of servers to create some of the best stuff. This is very good.



Seen at.

Straight to DVD - And Otherwise

Who needs film critics? You can tell what's gonna suck just by the trailers.

To his artistic credit, Nicholas Cage didn't want to use his real name, Coppola, when trying to break into film. His early roles, such as 1983's Valley Girl were great, understated slacker performances. He made Raising Arizona. He's had a few good roles since then when sticking to the mouth-breathing, goof-ball stuff he does best. But Cage as action hero, or in this case, hired assassin, doesn't work. If he keeps this up, he will become a self-mocking joke very soon. Get ready for Bangkok Dangerous, a movie that looks shockingly horrible. I think this is Cage trying to prove he has "range." Uh, Nick...you don't. And who titled this pic? Bargain Bin at Blockbuster in no time.



I used to live in Springfield, Missouri, Brad Pitt's hometown. Everyone there who is around Pitt's age has a Pitt story. ("I bloodied his nose in basketball." "He was my lab partner in Chemistry. I carried him.") When he returns for the Holidays, there's a media bloodsport of trying to catch him eating downtown or driving from the airport. His brother's computer business is thriving because...well, because he's Brad Pitt's brother. But the guy has range. He spent too much time in the Ocean's franchise, and he is now paired with Clooney again, only this time in a Coen brothers film and in a role that looks like it might be his best comedic work since Twelve Monkeys.

A Gruesome Butchering

The payoff is worth the 3 minute wait.

"Indie Film" Means "Sad Ending"

At least according to Samsung and this little animated "short" called Seedling. It's part of Samsung's effort to give you "an unparalleled look inside the independent film industry."

Wait. If it's an industry, how is it independent?

Anyway, it's a cute little commercial. Oh, sorry. I meant "short."


There's another one called David and Goliath here.

With most major studios now supporting their own "independent" efforts, the term "independent film" is beginning to lose its meaning. There's an "art house" theater here in Orlando that's pretty cool, with nice couches and tables and a pretty good menu, but eating in the dark while reading subtitles isn't that easy or enjoyable. And just because a film is from France, has taboo-breaking themes or was directed by someone who won something once at Sundance, that doesn't automatically make it "art."