It's moving time!

When E and I started this thing, we were a humble little blog. Eventually, we outgrew little blog things, and had to move to a non-standard Blogger template. Well, we've outgrown that too!

Over the weekend, we'll be moving to our new site: www.geekprospectus.com.

So come monday, head on over to the new site. All that great Geek Prospectus content you've come to know and love will still be there, and in a fancy new format. We're still testing and trying things out, so expect some changes over the next few months, but we're all set and ready to go, and we hope you'll like it.

For you RSS subscribers, well, this is much less exciting for you, because there's no change. The feed will switch over automatically, so no need for you to do anything. Though you should take a second to look at the new site and see how you like it.

Thanks for supporting the website, everyone. We look forward to keeping you entertained while you are bored at work.

For the curious: We've imported all the old posts and comments to the new site, so everything will still be there. We're also pretty excited about the new site. It looks awesome, and will help us continue the illusion that we are actually good at this. Join the fun!

In this round, we continue to pick the best action sequences from films.

1) Grimbil - Lobby scene from the Matrix. After forcing yourself through the 2nd and 3rd
installments, it's easy to forget just how ground breaking and amazing first
movie was. The scene of Neo running in slow motion with the stone columns
exploding under a hailstorm of gunfire is absolutely classic.

LD - I was going to pick this one at some point. The third act of the first
Matrix film was just amazing at the time. One of the best action sequences
ever. I don't know if I've ever been so excited during a movie. Luckily,
the following six hours of turgid dialogue and asinine symbolism disguised
as meandering plot have allowed me to sound rational when discussing it.

E - I saw the original Matrix THREE times in the theaters! That's how much of a
dork I was!
2) E - Casino Royale - opening chase scene
Parkour bad assedness that ends in the embassy with Bond facing down tons of
assault rifles. A joy to look at, ridiculous stunts on that crane, and Craig
being as Craig as he wants to be.

3) LD - B13 - Casino fight
I can't believe Bond is going to get drafted before B13. THIS is what an
awesome Parkour fight looks like. 20-foot long jumpkicks, men being thrown
through tables, just insane stunts and incredible sense of geography.

E - having only seen B13 once, I didn't feel like I could really pick it since I
barely remember anything specific about it other than it was just
awesomeness.

4) SN - Let's take it back a bit with the shopping mall sequence in True
Lies. First, there's the awesome shootout in the bathroom, with a bit
of humor in it as well. Then, Ah-nald follows the terrorist, who's on
a motorcycle, on horseback in an incredibly entertaining chase
sequence. For a second, you think he's actually going to jump from one
skyscraper to another on a horse. Wisely, he does not. In case you
haven't figured it out yet, awesome chase sequences give me a hard-on.

LD - Wow. What an obscure but awesome choice. That really is a fantastic
scene. Don't even get me started on the impossibly great SNES game.

5) N8 - The unfilmed Ewok genocide following the explosion of the Death Star
over the moon of Endor. No, just kidding. I want something a little more
interpersonal than some of the more recent picks. The action sequence
in *Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade* as Indy takes over the tank as they race they
Nazis through the dessert to the canyon of the crescent moon. Not only do
you have some of the great "shoot three guys at once" humor, but you also
have Indy being draged all over the tank treads before the groundswell of
Indy music bursts out and you get his triumphant ass-kicking, climaxing when
the tank goes over the edge. "Damn it, Saul, I said 'No camels! That's
four camels -- can't you count?'"

6) JC - Duel of the Fates - Episode 1.

Sorry the production of these masterworks has slowed. I intend to change that.

Are there any actors out there that you constantly hate? Not necessarily the actors themselves, but the characters they play, that is? For me, that actress is Tilda Swinton.



I know nothing about Tilda Swinton personally. I do know, however, that she often plays a bitch in movies. She was a cold bitch with no regard for human life in Michael Clayton. She was a cold bitch again in Burn After Reading. Then, in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, she was kind of a cold bitch, having an affair with Button while staying married to her husband -- no doubt for the money, that gold-digging whore.


Then there's this -- her imdb profile lists several movies with German titles. "Now, where have I heard of Germany before?" you may be asking yourself. Well, they were the bad guys in World War II (there was also a World War I, but the history of who fought against who has been lost with the passage of time). So it's safe to assume that anyone acting in a German movie is herself a Nazi.

She's also in The Chronicles of Narnia movies, playing -- get this -- a witch. That seals it for me. I am disinclined to like you, Tilda Swinton.

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

The Movie: Must Love Dogs

The Blurb: Two divorcees (WHO DON'T EVEN OWN DOGS) meet via an internet dating website with a WHOOOOOLE LOTTA BAGGAGE. And wouldn't ya know, they hit it off, but end up on bad terms due to a series of coincidences. Each go off the map and almost lose themselves, only to find each other again cuz they love each other. Oh, and John Cusack wears a trenchcoat through the whole movie. I mean, seriously, dude, isn't it time you ditched that look?

Conventions: Gay guy friends, Dr. Zhivago as a point of reference, strip club to ease the woes of a guy, dating montage! TWO OF THEM!

Current State of Mind: Y'know, if you put a dog and John Cusack in a movie, chances are I'm going to like it. And this movie had about oh, half an hour of charm to it. Too bad it crumbles into the ashes of its own absurdity. First, there's a family sing-a-long to the Partridge Family Theme, and I mean, that's charming. No, seriously, it was. And then there's the first date with the overly intense Cuscack talking about the universe, and all that. And then, things go ahhh kerfluffle, and lo and behold, this movie turns into some shit culminating in an old man talking about how dating three women at once MIGHT make him forget about the love of his life who passed away. Um...what? After that, well...shit only goes one way on a hill.

This movie was supposed to be a movie about adults, which should have had some mature things to say. Only, no one acts like an adult in this movie. They act like idiotic, self-centered, sex-crazed, petty, retarded assclowns. This movie wanted to tell you that your life's never over, and that everyone has their huckleberry somewhere out there. But they built their whole dating profiles through LIES, and their only connection was made by Cusack spitting some philosophical shit about the universe. And then the ending of this movie, holy god. Are you kidding me?

Thanks Must Love Dogs. Thanks for ruining a good vibe I had going. And to bring DOGS, cute, adorable, lovable dogs into this. You deserve no less than death. If this is what I'm going to act like as a 40 something, god...I better find someone before I get there. God save me.

Up Next: Keeping the Faith

Cross posted here...

To be honest, if I had an Oscar ballot this year (and honestly, why don't I?), I'd write-in The Wrestler. Ayo! But if I had to vote off the ones that were actually nominated, I'd vote Slumdog Millionaire in a walk. To me, Slumdog is the closest thing we had to a universally great movie this year, one that was both massively entertaining and thoughtfully rewarding. And that's pretty much how I judge which movie deserves to be "Best Picture": the movie that can convey meaningful themes and messages in the most entertaining and universal way possible.

Slumdog hit the ground running after TIFF and Telluride, garnering a massive buzz and earning a limited U.S. release. In a year where the biggest story had been the crushing, cynical realism of Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight, word about a movie as rich and uplifting as Slumdog Millionaire had people excited, and for good reason. Everything about Slumdog represented the sunny side of movies, from the cute kid actors, to the sappy love story, to the feel good ending. The mix of Indian culture and Bollywood infused stylings gave this movie pretty much everything it possibly could have needed to take the world by storm. And I'd be tempted to give it a pass in the Not Best Picture series if the movie had stuck with what worked for it, mainly the unflinching peek into the lives of Mumbai "slumdogs" (is that term derogatory?), the unapologetic romance, and the joyful Bollywood flourishes.

The movie's biggest problem is also its biggest asset: the structure of the plot. The whole, gameshow question/flashback/explanation hook has the effect of whipping you into such a frenzy by the end of the movie, you really don't have any time to stop and consider how....moderately pointless all of this is. Do we REALLY care why Jamal knows the answers? When you watch it for the first time, of course you do, but it doesn't really matter so long as Jamal gets the answers right and gets to keep playing. On multiple views, the movie loses a good amount of steam. You know why he knows, you know he's not lying, you know he's going to win and everything's going to be okay. But objectively, you knew all of that going into the movie, didn't you? Add to that, the clumsy handling of Salim's death or the stiff-as-a-board portrayal by the adult Latika, the movie's got some holes in it that are easily filled by the grand awesomeness of "when are they getting to the fireworks factory" effect that the plot structure has on viewers.

I'm not going to sit here and try to tear down a movie that I personally loved. While it's true that there are no perfect movies, there are near-perfect movie moments that keep you watching movies, like a junkie searching for that first high again. And really, other than a few minor nitpicks, the only criticism I can really lob at Slumdog is that it's never going to be as good as the first time. So screw it, I'm cheering for this one to win.

Cross posted here, with a formal review here.

The Reader swooped in and took the fifth slot for the Best Picture category, against other sorta-favorites like Revolutionary Road, Doubt, Wall-E, and The Dark Knight (am I missing any here?). It's just one of those movies that, while good on paper, is just kinda...a boring masterpiece on screen. There's no question that Daldry's vision of love and repentance, told against the backdrop of the Holocaust, is a feat. The movie is beautiful, slow, quiet, and delicate with complex themes of guilt and justice haunting Hanna and Michael's love over their whole lives. But really, you could've swapped in Rev Road or Doubt, and I wouldn't have even blinked. You could've swapped in TDK or Wall-E and made for a more interesting Best Picture category. And really, you could never see The Reader and your life really wouldn't be much different. I put it in a category I like to call "The English Patient Movies," which is funny seeing as I've never actually seen The English Patient. But it's just a group of movies that while I'm sure are all high quality, emotionally moving, and time-worthy affairs, I'm just not that interested in seeing it. Maybe some of them would rise above the pack and become favorites, but mostly I'm just sure that I'd get bored at some point in all of them.*

I'd go on about why I don't think The Reader should win Best Picture, but honestly. It's not going to. So why bother? Go see it if you want, it's a great movie, don't get me wrong. But if you haven't seen the others in this category, I'd knock them out first.

* Other movies in this category: The Piano, The Constant Gardener

It's been far too long since we had a draft around these parts, but we're coming out swinging. The idea is pretty simple:

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

The Movie: Music & Lyrics

The Blurb: A washed up 80's pop star has one shot at getting back into the big time by writing a song for a young starlet. While he's great with melody, he's terrible with lyrics, and inadvertently stumbles on Sophie, his house...plant waterer, or something, who has a quirk of talking to herself and singing random lyrics to any music playing around her. He hires her to write the song he needs, and wouldn't you know it, they fall in love. KISMET!

The Conventions: montage, revealing past skeletons, the "how do you know it's love" conversation between women

Did I Cry? Nope..didn't. I'm convinced it's never going to happen. I'm dead inside.

Current State of Mind: Wow, I should NOT have watched this right after Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. I wouldn't say this movie is necessarily bad, but it's definitely not good. I was talking to someone while finishing it up, and called it a Fresca, or Crystal Light. It barely exists. Sure, it tries, and god bless it for trying so hard to make some sort of commentary about the creation of music and how it mirrors love (don't you get it, the MUSIC is like the physical attraction, and the LYRICS are like the things you fall in love with). But the actual love affair in this movie takes such a backseat to the story of Hugh Grant's character, that you almost don't really care whether they end up together or not.

Still, there's something kinda poignant about comparing the way a washed up rock star views making music with the way adults having been through heartbreak may view love. Yes, it's cheesy, that it just takes the right song/person to make you believe again, after being so cynical about it for so many years, but it's true. Even the song they write, "A Way Back Into Love" (and dammit, it's kinda catchy) is centered on this concept. To everyone out there who hasn't felt love in a while, you (and I) might just have to accept...we got a lot of unthrilling songs to hear before one hits us the right way. But, y'know, it's better than no music at all...

Don't know why, but I'm 11 down, and feeling...pretty positive right now. it's probably all the glue I've been huffing.

Up Next: Must Love Dogs

Cross posted here....

For funsies, I'm going through each of the Best Picture nominees and talking about why I don't think they should win Best Picture. And being that I'm going from worst to first (except for The Reader, which I just saw today, so will be last to let it marinate a bit), today I get the privilege of trying to break down the movie I actually do believe will win Best Picture, Milk.

Milk's biggest problem was something completely out of its own control: the political environment of 2008. Put out in limited release in late October, by the time Milk found its way to most theaters, the smoke had already cleared from election day and the fallout of Proposition 8 and other referendums around the country regarding gay marriage. Which isn't to say that things might have been different had Milk been released earlier, but what was once seen as a potential victory lap for the gay rights movement now became a stinging reminder of how much work still needed to be done. And with that knowledge came an expectation, that the ghost of Harvey Milk would heal our wounds and inspire us from beyond the grave, this time on the screen. The fact that Milk isn't unbelievably awesome somehow makes you MORE disappointed in it, if only because this was the movement's time in the spotlight. For those of us on the same side of the aisle, it was disappointing that the movie was merely very, very good.

It's hard to know where Milk loses its focus. The movie feels long, even though exposition-wise, there really wasn't that much explanation for a lot of Harvey's crew, or for the central conflict between him and Dan White, the man who would eventually become Harvey's killer. I credit Van Sant for making this film less dreamy and meandering than his last few efforts, but wonder why, given the subject material, he didn't go more with the Good Will Hunting/Finding Forrester vibe. The movie was in desperate need of a bigger heart, and while all the elements are there, they never really come together into anything that you can empathize with. The story is moving because of the subject matter, not necessarily because anyone in the film really grabs a hold of you.

All that being said, Penn really did no wrong in this movie. But here, Penn's performance hogs the air a bit, sometimes obscuring the bigger picture this film should have been pushing. A lot of people say that Harvey Milk was really like that, a man aching to be in the spotlight and narcissistic to a fault. Again, if that was true, the film never gave any indication that we should view Harvey in that way. Instead, the power and veracity of Penn's performance, while jaw-droppingly awesome, sometimes took you out of the story. When combined with the odd portrayal of Diego Luna's character and the lack of focus for Brolin's performance as Dan White, the movie just seemed MORE uneven. And as I've said before, I'm reluctant to praise a movie based on one person's performance.

I wonder what my feelings would be on Milk had the events of this election year never happened. Would I be so full of expectations for a film that is, let's face it, the laziest of all narratives: the biopic? I doubt it, and maybe I would've been able to enjoy the high quality and messages that Milk sought to espouse. But given the political atmosphere, this film needed to be more, and the fact that it fell short only creates a sense of disappointment and lost potential. I'm fairly certain that Milk will win, and I say bravo. It's an important film that deserves accolades and a moment at the podium to call out those who seek to push back the very things it seeks to accomplish. But the movie in a vacuum leaves a lot to be desired.

With the recent double-swearing in of Jesus as president, the world seems back on track. In just a few days, it has been remarkable the amount of progress accomplished just by undoing the regressive executive orders of the last eight years...

As the resident contrarian around here, I was challenged to name a single thing about the advent of the Age Of Obama that made the world materially worse off than it was before. Not some Fox News fabrication, but an actual true fact about the state of the world that makes it less appealing now than it was before. Not as easy as I thought it might have been, when I started to think about it. But then I thought about the great romantic poets.

Echoing others and to be echoed by so many others, Shakespeare's plays and sonnets are good examples of a very common poetic backdrop. Romantic poets in all ages are quick to invoke the idea that life is short, so that it more easily follows that you should grab love while you are still vertical. For example,

Some of the most invoked sonnets make use of mortality as the literary backdrop to the wooer's immediate request that their love be requited. Summer's lease hath all too short a date is the poetic equivalent of "none of us will be young and beautiful forever, so are you sure you don't want to see the back of my Nisan Sentra?"


As a poetic go-to theme, you don't have to look far to see the transitory nature of life, beauty and youth invoked as an incitement to ill-advised coupling. Staring the prospect of death in the face has a way of loosening the corsets of young ladies, and the backdrop of Time's scythe isn't uncommon in poetry. It's an odd image to go with the flowers, unless you think about why it's there.

You see the idea everywhere in modern movies, too, from the girl in Airplane ("I don't know if we're going to get out of this, and I don't want to die a virgin") to that little kid in the back of the truck with the drunk crop-duster's daughter in Independence Day, whose incitement to sex is the simple line: the world is ending.

Well, that's what Obama has taken from some of us. It is much more difficult to declare to a would-be lover that the end is neigh with the same conviction as it was a week ago. Under Bush, "the sky is falling" was a frighteningly appropriate refrain, and I fear that the foregrounding of the end of days as a romantic hook has receded before this new tide of Hope. If "Yes, We Can" doesn't develop it's own free-love cache soon, I'm going to have to go back to asking the duty nurse at the maternity ward which birth certificates only have one parent's name on them...

Here in America, we have a proud tradition of ridiculously bad-ass action movies. Who among us will ever forget the exploits of John McClane, John Spartan, John Matrix, or John Highlyimprobablebutincrediblybadasslastname? None of the writers at this site, that's for sure. That's why we're so amped about the year 2009. Sure, we may not have the A-list action heroes of yesteryear, but we've traded them in on something better, namely, truly awesome action films.

Ask any guy who loves movies about Crank, and you're likely to see them go into an awesomeness-induced Grand Mal seizure. Chev Chelios, the adrenaline-addicted man with a literally indestructible heart was the star of the most insane, off-the-wall, and innovative action film of the last...ever? Come this April, he's back in Crank 2: High Voltage



Ever the DeGaullists, France has spied the awesomeness that America is about to unleash on the world, and has decided to unload their biggest weapon against us: a sequel to District B13. The movie that made parkour really, really cool returns with a bigger budget, the same leads and (unfortunately) wire work. Still, who can resist the siren's song of French guys jumping through tiny openings and fighting off a corrupt government through the power of flipping?



Oh, and you can go ahead and suck it, Bond films. No more stealing B13's thunder.

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

The Movie: Kissing Jessica Stein

The Blurb: Jessica's a newspaper writer who's dating life is in shambles, whether due to the awful men she meets or the fact that she's nuttier than a Payday bar. When she answers a personal ad due to an affinity for the literary quote a young woman uses, she decides to try her hand at being a lesbian. She starts dating Helen, a young free-spirited bisexual, and learns how to adjust her neuroses to her new relationship, and in the end learns that it's not so much about the men or women in her life, but really her own outlook that has kept her unhappy for so long. Or something. Plus a svelte Jon Hamm's in it, who I'm totally gay for (no pun intended).

The Conventions: catty gay guy friends, frank discussion of how women have sex with each other, bad dating montage!, Barry White as an awkward lovemaking soundtrack, artists are free spirits!

Did I Cry? I felt a little moved when her mother accepted her. It got a little dusty in here.

Current State of Mind: Well this was nice. I got to actually watch a movie that didn't make me cringe or vomit. I really enjoyed Kissing Jessica Stein, and whether that's because it's inherently good or because I just finished watching Good Luck Chuck is up to you to decide, but there was something refreshing about seeing things from the woman's point of view. The only movie I've seen up to now that had a woman's point of view was 27 Dresses, and we all know how well that went.

I was kind of surprised at how conventional this movie was. I don't know why I expected it to be any different just b/c it involved two women, but I did...and I was surprised to see how much I could actually relate to Stein, as neurotic as I am. There's something both entertaining, but also disheartening about the fact that *SPOILER* Helen and Jessica couldn't make it work, mostly because of her bubbling cauldron of totally undertsandable neuroses. And in all honesty, the reason they broke up (not enough sex!) will probably cloud the fact that they should've broken up months, eons ago. It was clear that Helen would lose patience with her, just as clear as Jessica would never be able to fully make herself into what Helen wanted out of a serious lesbian relationship. The double standard here being that as a guy, I don't have the added social pressure of having to get hitched up by the time I'm 30 in the same way most of my female friends do. But I think I have enough neurotic landmines to suffice.

The end of this movie also marked the first movie I've seen where the end didn't result in a nice ribbon-tied-on-a-box ending, which was surprisingly satisfying being that so many rom coms are built around this expectation that the happy ending is coming. It actually made me feel BETTER, not having to watch couples on screen having everything figured out perfectly, realizing that there's no rush when it comes to finding love, or something like it. It was a nice change of pace, probably one that I needed.

Up Next: Music and Lyrics.

Cross posted here.

You've already heard my complaints about Ben Button, so it's really no surprise that I don't think it deserves to win Best Picture. I've already called this movie an "emotional molestation," the kind of movie that forces you into a corner where you either have to abandon the movie, or give in to the blatantly obvious emotional play that it seeks to accomplish. Sure, there's some heart to this movie, but it wastes the conceit by shutting you out of Button's mind, giving you absolutely nothing to project onto him and no guidance as to how the events in Button's life are supposed to feel to us, the viewers. The whole movie is about the lack of connection with any of the characters, which some may say is the point being that Button is so disconnected from everyone around him due to his condition. But this movie is, at its heart, a love story, and it tries to sell the love story by pushing sympathy for characters you never connect with. The emotion you feel rings out because it's familiar territory, a pavlovian response to certain cinematic markers that you've seen hundreds of times before, not from anything organic in the movie itself.

Maybe this coldness comes from the meticulous style of Fincher, who definitely paints the movie in such a stunning visual style, you're almost tempted to give it a pass. The movie is a joy to behold in almost every scene. The moment where Button sits on the deck over the water and the camera splits the sun ray around his head is the kind of shot that directors search their whole lifetimes for, and watching it on the big screen kinda takes your breath away. But I'm not content in watching a movie simply because it looks fantastic (*cough* ATONEMENT). Because of the inherent problems with the script and performances, the visual stylings border on self-indulgence, as the scenery really serves no purpose other than creating an impressive visual feat. I'd say that maybe the point was to create a warm beauty to juxtapose with the cold fashion of the story, but I highly doubt Eric Roth (writer of Forrest Gump) would ever create something so cold on purpose. Instead, the coldness and disconnect in the screenplay leads me to think that it's a failed effort at creating something emotionally meaningful, a fact that Fincher's handiwork only seeks to reinforce through contrast.

In the end, Benjamin Button is the kind of movie that deserves recognition of the highest caliber, because it is an accomplishment, faults aside. But as for being representative of the best of the year, it falls short of the bar it sets for itself and everything it had going for it. Oh, and it will never win because David Fincher is an asshole.

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

First off, I'm way way behind. I can't imagine why I haven't had time to watch movies this past week, it's not like anything important was happening in DC. So the long and short of it is, the Rom Com Roundup is going into hyperdrive, and the order and list of movies will change based on what I can get my hands on the fastest. But I couldn't disappoint everyone who warned me that Good Luck Chuck would actually break my brain. Because I'm a masochist, here you are....the ruination of my fucking dignity and self-worth.

The Movie: Good Luck Chuck

The Blurb: A guy spurns a goth chick in a game of spin the bottle in high school, resulting in a hex that dooms him to never be able to hold on to love while it sprouts all around him. Whoever thought this kid would grow up to be nuclear wastepile Dane Cook, whose ex-girlfriends have now spread the rumor that after having sex with him, they'll meet their true love. Wow, that must REALLY suck for him now that all these ridiculously hot women want to have sex with him so they can leave him alone and get married to someone else (y'know, cuz uggos don't need true love anyway). So he meets the love of his life, who ALSO happens to be smoking hot but a total klutz. She's also Jessica Alba, so she allegedly has herpes, so there's that. After he falls in love with her, he tries to avoid having sex with her as long as possible. But when he finally does have sex with her, he learns he has to let her go if it's really meant to be. Oh also, a penguin bites his dick.

The Conventions: Retarded cretin friend, sex montage?, cute animals, and every single song in the soundtrack or score.

Did I Cry: Absolutely not.

Current State of Mind: Look, there's no two ways around it. This is a god awful, terrible fucking movie. It's an assault on your intelligence, your dignity, your respectability, and everything that's true and real in this country. You think I'm exaggerating? This movie goes out of its way to offend you, either through pointlessly awful toilet humor, mean spirited jokes at the expense of fat and/or ugly people, and the fact that you have to watch people think Dane Cook is attractive and/or charming. But it's not the simple fact that this movie has any of those, it's the extent the movie will go in each of these realms. It's not just toilet humor or sex jokes, you ACTUALLY see Dane Cook's boner through his underwear. It's not just fat or ugly people, it's obese whales full of acne and pubic hair leaking out of her bikini. And it's not just Dane Cook acting, it's Dane Cook doing his whole fucking bit in sporadic parts of this movie. It's not just Dane Cook having sex, it's Dane Cook having sex with tons of topless, ridiculous hot women in graphic detail. And believe me, these are all blazingly offensive to every single corner of your soul.

And y'know what sucks? The fact that this movie actually kinda managed to cobble together a semblance of an emotional center. True, it inhabits about 10 minutes, no scratch that, 5 minutes of the whole movie, but it's there. There's something moderately compelling about the conceit, a guy who's a stepping stone to real relationships and can't hold on to the only girl he wants. But if ever a real, legitimate moment pops up (like, the pebble at the end, sure it's writing on the level of a middle schooler, but a really creative middle schooler), the movie's completely content to ruin it five seconds later with a fart or boner joke. There was even one "serious" scene where I laughed in the face of the tv...yeah, I RAN UP to the tv to LAUGH AT IT, it was so fucking terrible. Ugh, JUST TERRIBLE. UGH! A PENGUIN SHITS, AND THEN EATS ITS OWN SHIT! WHY!?!??!

UGH. What is my current state of mind. I have no fucking idea. If you love something, set it free. Thanks Good Luck Chuck, I needed to watch a movie to learn something that I could read off a fucking fortune cookie. And as for the thoughts on love in my own life?....................I got nothing.

Up Next: Kissing Jessica Stein...I called an audible, b/c I need to watch a film with some quality or else I'll seriously have an aneurysm.

I think we're all willing to admit that reading through the Overkill River series that we're doing with our friends at Hey, There's a Bird in This Mirror! takes more than a bit of stamina. At the same time, the content of these entries is (1) phenomenal and (2) probably the best evaluation you'll find on a band that richly deserves to considered in this manner. So, with great humility (and recognition of the fact that the Joe Budden stuff is a more entertaining diversion), we all suggest that you take the time to not only read these entries, but listen to the songs that they reference.

Part 1 - Dave

Part 2 - E



Part 3 - Raina



Part 4 - LD



Part 5 - Dave

What if...well, you get the picture (and if you don't, click on the above link '2009 year of the Budden' for the entire series to date).

Nixon's team would have hired Jay-Z to attend the interviews and silently mock Joe Budden off-camera throughout.

James Reston Jr. would not have been played by Sam Rockwell. He would have been played by jut plain Rockwell, and he would have teamed up with Budden for a sick rap remix of "Somebody's Watching Me."

After Budden had just nailed the former president with a great question, he would have stood up and started rhyming "Pump It Up" with beats blaring over the sound system.

Four days before the final session, a drunk Nixon calls Budden. Budden, expecting a call from a ladyfriend about dinner arrangements, answers "cheeseburgers." When he finds out it's really Nixon on the phone, he hangs up and goes to the In-N-Out Burger.

Cross-posted at Filmicism

For the next week, let's do a little hateratin' on the best picture nominees, shall we? I'm going backwards in ranking (worst to first), so let's start with the bottom spot on my list, Frost/Nixon.

I've been pretty open about my love for Frost/Nixon. I placed it at #5 in my top ten list for the year, and gave it a pretty glowing review to boot. There's no question that I really enjoyed the movie, more than a lot of others even. But there's no way that this picture represents the best that came out in 2008.

Cinema has an inherent ability to convey atmosphere, to keep the viewer immersed in the world that the director and writer creates. But there's nothing special about the world that Howard depicts on screen. I've said it before, Howard's biggest contribution was getting out of the way of Morgan's screenplay, and letting the camera linger on Sheen and Langella's performances. Every time he does try to add a little flair, the movie sags. It's no surprise that this movie worked so well as a play, and in my opinion probably worked BETTER as a play, seeing as the movie's effectiveness revolves around the fact that you're removed from the experience to a certain degree. You know that Langella's not Nixon, you know how it ends, and you know that history has already given both of these men their due (whether deserved or not). In the confines of a play, there's a self-awareness of both the actors and the audience in coming to grips with how much you're willing to accept as reality, and what you're going to parse out as fiction. Are you going to watch the actors' performances, or are you going to believe that these actors are the characters they say they are. Movies are where we're supposed to get lost, and Frost/Nixon did little to add to that side of the experience, and even took steps (the talking heads, the faux-documentary style, the arguably unnecessary epilogue) to pull you out of it.

I'm also coming to a point where I'm getting more and more reluctant to give such high accolades to a movie solely based on performances (something we'll get to BIG TIME in Milk). Langella deserves the oscar in my eyes, even over Penn and Rourke; and Sheen and co. do a great job of rounding out the cast. And while it may be fascinating for me to sit and watch singular performances, or see Morgan's screenplay unfold into one of the most unassuming yet spectacular climaxes of the year, the MOVIE Frost/Nixon doesn't add much to a play where two men would simply sit on an empty stage, talking back and forth. This isn't like There Will Be Blood, where Daniel Day Lewis's performance was central to the meaning and effectiveness of the movie as a whole. Frost/Nixon is hinging its power on not only the performances, but the history and ghosts that these figures bring to the screen, something that Langella and Sheen can't add to with a simple line read, and something that Howard doesn't effectively convey more than a lazy metaphor to our current administration and the desire to see Bush "put on trial" in the way he will never be.

Frost/Nixon is a great movie that fails to deliver on the most central message to the movie: the power of the camera, the theater of media, the exposing light of truth. It reads you the story of a book, when it should be SHOWING you the emotions and messages it seeks to convey. This failure is a testament to Morgan's play, and the performances of the actors...that it still manages to be a powerful, moving experience. It just wasn't the best of the year.

It's been a week since we saw Camp OJ chillin with the Real Killahz. Where have they been?

Overkill River: The Lie We Share

"One minute was enough, Tyler said, a person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection." ~Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club, Chapter 3

Begin with the assumption that, for a musician, the moment that a new song is created is a moment of perfection. In that moment the song is genuine, a snapshot of a state of mind or emotion. But, like Tyler Durden says, a moment is the most you can ever expect for perfection. With a song, once that moment passes, it's time to play the music and sing the lyrics fifty times in order to hammer it into a perfected, ready-to-record state. Then, once you're in the studio, you'll have to do another thirty takes to make sure that you've captured the best possible version of the song. Each time you sing those words and hear that melody, you're a little further removed from the moment you once immortalized. And each time you try to find the raw nerve that inspired you to write in the first place, it's a little more numb, partially due to distance and partially due to fatigue. There's only so many times that you can allow yourself to feel the same pain, to punish yourself for the same mistakes, or to remember the red in her cheeks as you walked together on that cold winter's night.

So, what's left after perfection's moment has passed? If you believe Will Sheff and Okkervil River, the answer is "a lie". It's the lie that exists when the artist is on stage, singing for the thousandth time about a lover he wronged long ago, and the lie that exists when a lonely kid in the big city internalizes that song and decides that the singer understands the pain he feels. It's the lie that convinced Shannon Wilsey to chase the love of rock stars and the lie that tortured Savannah when she realized that her fame couldn't keep her company on her nights alone.

The question now becomes "why do we all fall for this lie?" Why do the fans who know they're being lied to continue to sing along? Why do the musicians who know that they're lying continue to do it? The answer is that there's no reason to continue the lie...unless it's kicks.

"Unless It's Kicks" - The Stage Names

The thing about musicians is that the fans tend to assume that because they're on stage, they're larger than life and therefore immune to the needs and insecurities that we all feel. "Unless It's Kicks" dismantles that conception. The song is about the catch-22 that arises from being creative and being adored. On one hand, creative individuals have the desire to express themselves, or in other terms, to continually create the moments of perfection discussed above. On the other hand, like most drugs, fame is addicting. "Unless It's Kicks" is sung from the perspective of a moderately famous musician who is also a self-described "sick man". The listener is introduced to him as he's on tour and he's "been driving too long / on a dark windless night / with the radio on / with the towns flying by". It's clear that, emotionally, the singer is in dire straits:

What pulls your body down, and that is quicksand
So, climb out quick, hand over hand
Before your mouth's all filled up

But, at the same time, things aren't hopeless. He's out on tour because it helps him stave off the pain that comes when the stage lights fade. In fact, he's out driving because he's "on a seven day high". His drug of choice?

That heavenly song

Punches right through my heart

And hums through my blood.

In case all that was too obtuse, Sheff comes right out and spells out the equation for us:

What picks you up from down unless it's tricks, man?
When I been fixed, I am convinced that I will not get so broke up again

The cure for his sickness is tricks...or, synonymously, the lie at the center of these two albums. He's going to go on stage and sing until he's cured. But, it's not as simple as that. Don't lose sight of Raina's entry about musicians and their many loves. It's no coincidence that this sick man is singing about how he does this all for kicks, and in one verse talks about "tricks" that pick him "up from down", and will do so until he's "fixed". There's a dichotomy in these two readings that's central to what Sheff is saying. On one hand he's on stage, singing about something that used to be true because he's hooked on the love he gets from his fans. On the other, it is his indulgences in the trappings of his mid-level fame that keep him broken.

It would be pathetic if the singer was unaware of what he was doing, but more importantly, it wouldn't ring true. As fans, it's easy to look at artists from our perspective, to imagine that they always love playing Akron, and think that Akron fans are the best fans in the world, and that they're really killing themselves on stage because their music really means something. In reality, every city has the best fans, because that sells. The band loves playing every city because every city loves them in return. As for the song that played the first time you tentatively pressed your lips against hers? The song that got you through a family member's illness? The singer tells us directly:

And I know it's a lie
But I'll still give my love
Hey, my heart's on the line
For your hands to pluck off

What gives this mess some grace unless it's fictions
Unless it's licks, man
Unless it's lies or it's love?

There's your confession. It's all a lie, and on the level that the fans appreciate, what he's doing is meaningless to him. It's only the lie that means something, the fiction in the earnestness of his performance and the love he receives in return that keeps him going. It's important to note that he genuinely loves the fans. They give him a rush that he can't find anywhere else, and he doesn't lose sight of what he owes them. At the same time, despite the mutual love they share, the fans will always be at a distance from him because they're not getting "him". They're getting an obsolete version of him, a version of him diminished by a dozen cities and a thousand miles and the screaming of countless crowds. They're getting the person that they've created in their head, the one that understands them, and the one with whom they'd totally be friends if only they could meet.

In a heartbreaking turn, the song ends on a lamentation. The singer knows the love his fans feel for him is false, and when he's willing to be introspective, it eats him up inside:

What breaks this heart the most is the ghost of some rock and roll fan
Exploding up from the stands
With her heart opened up
And I want to tell her, "your love isn't lost"
Say, "my heart is still crossed"
Scream, "you're so wonderful"

What a dream in the dark
About working so hard
About glowing so stoned
Trying not to turn off
Trying not to believe in that lie all on your own.

Sadly, the love of this dream of a fan is lost, because it's not for the singer. His heart can't be crossed (and hope to die), because he knows that he's lying. He'd love nothing more than to resist "turning off" and to feel the songs the way his fans do, but he can't wish away what he knows. This is the hollowness that threatens to drown him like quicksand, and it's caused by the same thrills that his creativity provides him.

"Pop Lie" - The Stand Ins

"Unless It's Kicks" is the sentiment that occurs when you have an artistic individual who is "genuine". This is the type of artist who romanticizes the lie and regrets his role in the equation. What happens when you encounter a cynical artist who was lying from the start? "Pop Lie" exists to cover the songs that never had a moment of perfection. Not every artist is Will Sheff, Win Butler, or Craig Finn. For every artist whose pen writes in blood and won't leave the stage until they collapse, there are legions of Ryan Cabreras and Jessica Simpsons. "Pop Lie" is Sheff's admonishment of the fans who adore crap and believe that Celine Dion and Rascal Flatts are spewing platitudes just for them. These are the artists who are the result of focus groups and demographic testing, the ones who produce songs that are:

All sweetly sung and succinctly stated
Words and music he calculated
To make you sing along
With your stereo on
As you stand in your shorts on your lawn

There's nothing wrong with music for good times. In fact, nothing goes better with good times than music. Where Sheff takes issue with the fans is when they diminish their own experiences by tying it to music that's unworthy of the experience. To wit:

Get completely incorporated
By some couple who consummated
Their first love by the dawn
A falling star wished upon
And flashed in the sky and was gone

To be certain, there's a smirk in Sheff's example. However, even if this couple shared their love without the celestial blessing, the point remains true. It only sullies the beauty and honesty of the moment to forever tie it to Bryan Adams' "(Everything I do) I Do It For You". There are a million other couples out there that will do the same thing, and Sheff demands that his listeners do better for themselves.

And mouths wet and long hair braided,
By the back room, the kids all waited
To meet the man in bright green
Who had dreamed up the dream that they wrecked their hearts upon

He's the liar who lied in his pop song
And you're lying when you sing along
And you're lying when you sing along

The conception of the fan here is strikingly different from that of "Unless It's Kicks". While the singer in "Kicks" does love his fans and hates the distance between them, these fans get a much less gentle treatment. Salivating and dressed up, they want a piece of the man who penned the song that mistreated their love. For their mistake, Sheff tries to shout to them and tell them about how wrong they are. While he is concerned about exposing the hypocrisy of the man in bright green, he's also partially condemning the fans for their mistake in loving the wrong way. It's probably not coincidental that the people who buy into the lie in this instance are children. There's certainly commentary on the mindstate of the fan whose heart is stirred by Gavin DeGraw to be found throughout this song.

Particularly telling in the previous verse is the distance between the artist and his fans. In "Kicks", the artist's "heart's on the line / for your hands to pluck off" during his show. In "Pop Lie", the artist is separated from his fans as they wait outside his dressing room. The immediacy of the relationship (false or not) between the genuine artist and his fans in presented not only as more visceral, but as mutual. The man in bright green is given no lines and no perspective, kept distant from his fans and from the listener, because he is ultimately more false for not even attempting to reach his fans with something honest.

So, here's the car seat, so cruelly weighted
And here's the faces already faded
At the end of the day
When they just threw away the only good thing that they owned,

And now they're pinned down and strangulated

The story of our listeners continues. The couple who consummated their relationship? The weight in that car seat is forever. The fresh faces already faded? The fans outside the dressing room were kids, after all. Both threw away the only good thing that they owned: their individuality. Now they're left in newer, uglier circumstances, and they never bothered to become anything more than generic. As a result, they're left hopeless and burdened.

Week by week, it climbs up and comes on
And we're feeling alright, though we know it's all wrong
I'm ashamed to admit that I can't help resist what I wished was the truth, but it's not

And I truly believe we're not strong
And we'll sing 'til our voices are gone
And then sink beneath that manicured lawn.

Here's the part that bothers Sheff. It's that these people are settling. They could do more, they could be more, they could look for something better, but instead they use the crap as anesthesia, numbing themselves from cradle to the grave.

Sheff leaves us on another snarky note:

This is respectfully dedicated
To the woman who concentrated
All of her love to find
That she'd wasted it on
The liar who lied in this song

Ultimately, the lie isn't a good thing or a bad thing. It's a necessary thing. It's what drives the people who can create great music to keep creating and it gives the fans something to love. But, the argument is that the "smaller" the lie, the better off we all are. One theme that runs between both of these songs is the importance of being genuine. This is because the lie isn't just a part of music, it's a part of everything. To call "the lie" a lie is probably too damning, but it serves to illustrate the point. In reality, the lie is simply what's lost in translation in the communication between artists and their fans. These gaps in understanding exist not only between artists and fans, but in every conversation and every relationship, and by permitting as few of them as possible we open the door for a more fulfilling life. This is why Sheff hates the artists who lie from the start, and to a lesser degree, the fans who love the big lie. Rather than searching for the truth, they accept a shorthand version of their emotions and their desires.

It's easy to condemn Sheff for being too demanding, too stringently "ethical", for want of a better term. There's nothing wrong with enjoying all types of music, even the junk food. But, tellingly, he never condemns the people who understand that Kelly Clarkson writes astounding pop songs while remaining aware enough to resist internalizing the lyrics. It's only the people who truly believe that "Since U Been Gone" tells the story of their recovery from a breakup with whom he takes issue. By my tolerance, he's still setting too strict a standard for his audience, because emotions work on both a micro and a macro level. More importantly, art and the appreciation thereof, while important, is only one small aspect of a life well-lived. It is possible to have generic or poor taste and live a life far less tragic than Sheff suggests. However, his overall point is still well-made and well-taken.

Sheff's points about developing one's own taste is why the "mid-level" band element of "Unless It's Kicks" (and, non-coincidentally, Okkervil River) is so pertinent to the message of these songs. In the 1950's, there were two options for music: the mass media and the local live venue. Discovery of new music was an undertaking, and one with no certainty of success. If you couldn't find a band, movie, or novel that resonated with you, that was simply the nature of the world in which you lived. But, we live in the age of limitless options, of micro-fame, and of the democratization of the means of production. Bands that would never have had the money to release an album thirty years ago now put out 15 tracks per month on MySpace. Some of the best writers in the world are accessible only through blogs. What you're looking for is out there, you just have to be willing to put in the work to find it. What you find will always be a lie. It will always serve a different need to for its creator than the need it satifies in you. But, the more options you have and the more honest expressions of intellect and emotion that are available to us, the smaller the lie becomes. Will Sheff is right: the fewer the lies, the better off we all are.

Gary Coleman could have found some work for the first portion of the movie.

The movie could have followed the curious arc of Joe Budden's career (inital great success, followed by...nothingness).

Jay-Z could have married Cate Blanchett.

Cate Blanchett could have been omitted from the movie and someone hotter cast in her stead (really, this could have happened regardless. No offense, Cate Blanchett fans, but she convincingly played a man in a movie last year).

Budden could have had beef with Dr. Dre and Run DMC at the retirement home.

There could have been a montage set to "Pump It Up" of Budden aging backwards.

This movie, in all likelihood, would not have been nominated for 13 Oscars.

With new hats to boot. Now that inauguration is officially over, (me and LD had one last inaugural party* to go to last night), we can get back to the business of posting about the important issues that affect real Americans' lives day in, and day out.

But just to commemorate this historic week and our new President, I think it's best left to one of our generation's foremost poets and thinkers, whose remarks made this past weekend in D.C. really say what we all feel:

"I wanna thank two people: I wanna thank the muthafucka overseas that threw two shoes at George Bush, and I wanna thank the muthafuckas who helped they move they shit up out the White House – get it moving, bitch! My president is muthafucking black!"
-Young Jeezy

Muthafucking right, Snowman. Mutha. Fucking. Right.

Welcome to a new America, world.

* we aren't ones to brag, but it was pretty much the greatest party in the history of the universe.

Obama Hat Picture credit: Link

Saigon would have showed up, dissing Budden during the swearing-in with some freestyle antics.

The inauguration would have been postponed four years, much like Budden's second album.

The VP would have beef with like everybody in the Senate.

Budden would totally have started rapping "Pump it Up" when it became obvious that that boring fucking poet was losing the crowd.

People would still be talking about Joe Budden.

ATTENTION: MASSIVE SPOILERS

We did this quite some time ago, in anticipation of the Lost Season 5 premiere today. It's really, really long. I could have broken it up, but this isn't the thing that people are sitting somewhere anticipating. If you are significantly interested in Lost, it will be good. If you aren't interested in Lost, go read a review of a romantic comedy or something.

Y: Hello everyone, and welcome to the Lost debate. In preparation for the upcoming season 5 of Lost, we'll have a series of arguments about the merits of the show and its overall quality. I'm Y, the moderator of this discussion. Even though I am a fan of the show, I feel I am in a unique position to moderate this discussion as I am the only one here who isn't an extremist for one side or the other. I will strive as much as possible to make this a legitimate discussion, and not dissolve into E and Grimbil just making ad hom attacks against each other or insane geek snarkiness, though I am certain that's where it will end. On the affirmative side, LD and E will be in favor of the show, while SN, Grimbil, and N8 will be negating its quality. As I have no idea what JC thinks, he is welcome to join either side, or make color commentary as we go along. Because of the odd numbers, the negative will go first. Then we will alternate between negative and affirmative until each person has written. I will then ask a series of questions to each side. SN, Grimbil, N8, choose amongst yourselves as to who goes first.

Grimbil: How about this: Nothing happens. Ok, stuff does happen, but over the course of 22 episodes in a season, you get about 3 hours of stuff happening. Look, lots of camera cuts and people yelling at each other with ominous music in the background does not make a good TV series.

LD: The thing is, Lost is its own creature. There are shows that excel at character (Battlestar Galactica), shows that survive on plot (24), and shows that survive on weird shit happening (at this point, really just Lost, but I'll say Twin Peaks). While it doesn't always fire on all cylinders, it's always firing on one. I think the real issue over Lost's quality is the viewer's willingness to believe that the story being told is part of a greater whole. If you believe that there's a payoff to come, whether a metaphorical payoff (it was all about Bush's America!) or a plot based one (I knew that Dharma Shark was behind it all along!), then you can go along with the show's ride, because all of the little oddities add up. If you believe that it's all a bunch of crap being thrown at the wall, then you're not going to agree.

However, I think the "nothing ever happens" argument is long since out the window. Season four moved like lightning. Outside of just doing a summary of the story, I'm not sure how they could have moved faster.

SN: I’m willing to watch, say, a disconnected movie to see if it all comes together in the end. But to follow a show for 5 years with blind faith? Fuck that. Admit it: it doesn’t make any sense. Its like continuing the fight in Nam just because its gone on so long. Just cut your losses already.

E: But I don't see how that's any different than playing a video game or reading a comic book for a while and giving it the benefit of the doubt that it will come together in some sort of satisfying way. We aren't people who think the show is philosophy or RELIGION, it's entertainment, and damn good at it. If you guys STUCK with the show as much as we had, you'd see that it does begin to make sense of some of the things people were like "guh?" about before.

Plus, Brian K. Vaughan is guiding the ship, people! DO YOU HAVE NO FAITH IN GOD?!!??!

ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!?!?!?

LD: I'll take a different tact and say that it's not as though the show never concludes its arcs in miniature. It solves little mysteries and gives us great character arcs, but the bigger stuff remains out on the horizon. Yeah, there is stuff that doesn't make sense, I'll grant you that. Maybe it never will.

At the same time, when the show pays off, it fucking PAYS OFF. There was a moment last season where a love story between two characters finally reached its climax that was probably the best moment of character work I've ever seen on network television. Plus, pretty much everything that Ben Linus has ever been involved in is great.

Grimbil: I can't take it on blind faith that things will somehow magically resolve themselves and everything will be answered. There is NO WAY the writers thought shit up so far in advance. Admit it, they're making the shit up as they go along, which means that when it finally comes to end the show, things will NOT wrap up neatly. I predict some JR isn't really dead / BS dream sequence when the writers finally throw their hands up in despair and bail on the show. Did you not learn your lesson from X-Files? They didn't expect it to be so successful and suddenly realized they had to make up some crazy ass shit to keep people watching. It's off the deep end.

E: They've said from the start it had a five season story arc. With the writer's strike and shortened seasons, it's staying to that, and to date, i think the only major change they've had to make along the way was with Eko's character b/c the actor didn't want to play the role anymore, right?

LD: But, they have an end date. Even if they we're making it up, they've got Vaughan (who is the best at this), Grillo-Marxuach, Cuse, and Lindelof all working on it. I wouldn't be surprised to see them get David Fury back in the long run. These guys can tie things together even if they were making it up at one point. There's no trudging forward forever like you had to deal with on the X-Files.

There were a few other changes (Ana Lucia, the curly haired girl, and the two new characters who didn't take), but that's something you'll always have, even if there is a plan.

I think if there's any knock against lost, it's that it's pretentious and sometimes clumsily so. Christian Shepherd! Jeremy Bentham! John Locke! Jacob loves you!

N8: I love the explanation: if you had watched it for as long as we had, you would like it! For your convenience, I have pasted a portion of the Wikipedia introduction to cognitive dissonance below:

Cognitive dissonance is an uncomfortable feeling caused by holding two contradictory ideas simultaneously. The "ideas" or "cognitions" in question may include attitudes and beliefs, and also the awareness of one's behavior. The theory of cognitive dissonance proposes that people have a motivational drive to reduce dissonance by changing their attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors, or by justifying or rationalizing their attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors.[1]social psychology Cognitive dissonance theory is one of the most influential and extensively studied theories.

Dissonance normally occurs when a person perceives a logical inconsistency among his or her cognitions. This happens when one idea implies the opposite of another. For example, having watched years of a senselessly meandering show and confronting the reality that the show is meaningless and meandering, an individual may reduce cognitive dissonance by altering their attitude (since past behavior is difficult to alter) concerning the quality of the program.

I would also add that my criticism of Lost is not only that nothing happens but also that very little happens in the present tense. The narrative is so fragmented with flash backs and flash forwards that it's hard to know when and if anyone is actually confronting a strange abandoned alien concrete tube. I'm not sure why you'd care about the alien tube, since you spend more time in a flash back of your rough childhood and multi-layered pre-crash history with all of the people who happened to survive with you on the island, but as a viewer, I tend to be better entertained by shows that make sense. Anyone can think outside the box and come up with weird deus ex machinas (enter the motor boat pirates!) to move a story along, but I admit that if all of Lost is coming together into some brilliant bow, I was not willing to stick it out that long.

To be fair, I'm reluctant to criticize a show when I have not seen every episode. But what I did see was not a world where I had reason to believe the hand of a godly writer was operating. It was a dark chaotic Nietszchian world that seemed ruled primarily by the gravity of ratings stunts designed to keep people who had stuck with it through the first season and into the second distracted enough to keep from noticing that the Emperor doesn't have any clothes.

LD: Your cognitive dissonance argument is meaningless. It assumes a motivation that's not there. It basically amounts to "Surely, since I don't enjoy lost, the millions of people who make it one of the highest-rated shows on television and among the best selling season DVD sets are secret masochists!"

The more entertaining part of your argument is attempting to assume that our greater knowledge of the show somehow makes us less qualified to discuss it. I mean, appeal to authority is a weak argument tactic in matters of opinion, but I don't think that implies that an appeal to utter lack of authority is therefore legitimized. Other examples of this debating style:

"Yes, I realize you've spent the last decade of your career researching superstring theory. That's why I, who haven't studied it, am more capable of telling you that it's garbage."

"All your knowledge of the antebellum interstate trade has biased your opinions on the causes of the civil war. As someone who fast forwarded through Gettysburg, allow me to tell you the real story."

You're the chief in the cop movie who says "You're too close to this one!" and demands that the officer hand in his badge. Not coincidentally, that chief is always wrong.

I have no idea what the alien tube and motor boat pirates are, so I'm assuming you just created examples? Not trying to be snarky, but I can't rebut them from the text of the show itself.

It's funny that you should mention the flashbacks and flash-forwards as hurting the narrative of the show, since I think that's the wrong perspective from which to look at them. What's happening on the island has been revealed to be no more important than what happened before the crash or what happens after. Instead of prelude and prologue, we're viewing three points in time in the same story. Initially, the flashbacks primarily served to flesh out characters about whom we knew very little. But, over time they've become much richer, and in the last season or so, they've become integral to the plot.

Finally, I find your claim that Lost is a Nietzschean world kind of hard to swallow.

To begin with, the primary philosophical question behind Lost is that of fate versus free will, and idea so starkly opposed to Nietzsche's philosophy that it brings the entire accusation into question.

There's also the fact that Christianity plays a significant role on the show. Take for instance, that the leader of the "good guys" is named Shepherd. Or that the false priest, Mr. Eko, was killed by the island moments after refusing to atone for his sins. Or the concept of Aaron, the messianic baby. Christianity runs deep in Lost and it's not superficial. There has been the suggestion that the hand of God is at play in the show (though there are opposing viewpoints as well). I think that's pretty flagrantly non-Nietzschean.

Still, the best refutation of the point is that the show consistently rewards characters who demonstrate slave morality and punishes the ubermenschen who exhibit a will to power. Desmond was willing to sacrifice his life to win the woman he loved, DID sacrifice his life for the safety of strangers by condemning himself to an eternity in the hatch (from which he was spared), and routinely risked himself to save Charlie's life. As a result, he was reunited with Penny. By contract Ben Linus and Widmore are constantly seeking power, and their lives are nothing but trauma. Ben lost his connection to his god, lost his followers, lost his daughter, and ultimately lost the island, the last thing he loved. Widmore's daughter has directly turned against him and he can't sleep without being drunk on whiskey due to his nightmares.

Lost is about fate versus free will. Lost is about the fact that we have to learn from our mistakes or we will suffer. It's an heir to the dualities and "nothing ever ends" questions raised by Watchmen. It's an heir to the magical realism movement. There's a lot of meat on the show's bones. If it doesn't appeal to you, that's all well and good. But, it's not just crap being thrown at the wall.

Grimbil: I just threw up a little in my mouth.

N8: Likewise. But I will credit LD with the line-by-line argumentation. First, I watched the show in the first season. I do not claim absolute lack of knowledge, although I would make allowance for those of you who have seen much more of the show. You know it better. But, I don't believe that having only seen 7 hours worth of episodes instead of 60 makes me utterly unqualified to discuss the merits of the elements of the show. I discuss 90 minute movies all the time. And if I leave a horrible one after 60, I think my thoughts on the first 60 are probably useful to others as a warning.

Second, I don't want to side-track us with cognitive dissonance. I was being snarky to throw that into the mix. But for the sake of clarity that I didn't provide before, I think you misunderstand the theory, which is that people experience unpleasant tension when they notice that their behavior and attitudes are inconsistent, making adjustments to one or the other to alleviate the tension. Cognitive dissonance does not prove that Lost is a bad show, but it may explain why people who have watched it for years defend it with such passion, because the behavior of watching a show for years and not thinking the show is very good would create dissonance. Because this argument is not related to the merits of the show itself but only a side comment about the passion with which Lost defenders defend their show, I apologize for side-tracking us.

Third, the reference to Nietschze was a suggestion that the world lack authorial design. The author is dead was the suggestion I was attempting to make because I simply saw no evidence of a grand design or the hand of an authorial god, to refer back to the metaphor I was trying (badly) to play with. The show felt forced from the beginning, drawing on devices such as the flash-back to fill so much of the episode that nothing actually occurred in the present a lot of the time. To me, that wasn't terribly entertaining.

Fourth, to move the discussion to what I think may be more related to the core of my lack of interest in sticking with the show: I was not entertained by it. Why? For a start, it had serious plausibility issues. Granted, for a show like Gilligan's Island, a coconut radio can be camp, and it's lack of realism isn't relevant. But Lost expects you to care about the characters and believe in the world it creates but then -- it seemed to me -- manipulates that world in a manner which seemed arbitrary rather than elegant to me. No one example captures that fully, so I am reluctant to use one, because I think it's the sum of the whole.

However, are there polar bears on this island in addition to several groups of stranded folks and an underground 1980s station built by free-thinking scientists? Maybe the point is this: you seem to love that this show is transparently symbolic, naming its characters Jack and Rousseau and staging battles between forces of faith and science, etc. To me, that seemed forced. It wasn't a bad survival story when that was the story, but when it morphed into this other Twin Peaks pop-intellectualized hodgepodge, I jumped ship, so to speak.

E: My brain hurts.

Lawzt iz zo awezum. ZOMG! SMOAK MAWNZTURR!

[ed. note: We’re all worried about E’s attention span. It’s very short.]

Y: For the affirmative, isn't it a problem that there are some things left from the first season, or early on, that are still totally unexplained (smoke monster, the statue/foot thing)? Aside from the surprisingly in-depth discussion of the big-picture view of the show, isn't there some concern that some of these things will go completely unexplained. I think Grimbil draws an extremely apt comparison with the X-Files. I loved the X-Files, but eventually had to stop watching it, because the large, overall plot was never explained or propelled forward in any significant way. Thoughts on that?

E: I never watched the X-Files. So I can't really comment on that comparison. Plus, Grimbil is stupid.

The way the show has gone lately, it required a significant amount of character development, which the show spent the better part of two and a half seasons doing and is now moving in the direction of explaining things like SPOILER!!!!!! time on the island, the activities of the Dharma Initiative, and Penny and Desmond's importance to the overall story. For those who only watched the first two seasons saying nothing happened, well...of course nothing happened, we had to understand who these people were before getting into the why's of the secrets. If we didn't know shit about Desmond, would "The Constant" have been such an effective episode? If we didn't have the FULL tragic backstory of Locke, would it have mattered about Bentham's fate? Same with Claire, and Jack's father, and Hugo and the numbers. I mean, there's a lot of complaint that it doesn't go anywhere, but it's just doing it in a very slow, deliberate way. And there's a subjective argument to be made about how well it's doing that.

I have full faith that the smoke monster, the numbers, etc...will all be explained. Will they be satisfying? Honestly, I doubt it. But they're definitely pushing towards some kind of resolution.

LD: The numbers have been explained, actually.

As for Season one's mysteries, let's take a look at what we have:
The smoke monster (which we understand to a degree now, what we lack is a creation story and a means for its creation)
The others (explained)
What caused the plane to crash (explained)
The Black Rock (mostly explained)
Rousseau (explained)
The Polar Bears (explained)
The Hatch (explained)
The Plane (explained)
What happened to Rose's husband (explained)
What's up with Walt (unexplained, but clearly a focal point of the upcoming season)
Why Christian's casket was empty (partially unexplained, but an explanation has been alluded to)
and the big one...Adam and Eve (at this point, probably the endgame)

And N8, it's not the flagrant symbolism that I like. I actually think it's the show's weakest point. It's that, in spite of that, the show remains intelligent and does great work with the characters.

E hit the nail on the head by talking about Locke: Forget the fact that the island healed him. That's window dressing. We've seen how his abandonment and inadequacy issues have shaped his life to date. How the trials he's faced in life have led to a series of bad decisions that shaped the character on the show. We've seen firsthand how he simultaneously needs a father figure and wants to be seen as a father figure. And now we know that, once again, he's going to be found wanting when the chips are down. That's heartbreaking. If he was just the grizzled old survivalist we knew in the beginning of season one, he'd be an archetype. Now it's safe to say that there's nobody quite like him on TV.

I think the suspension of disbelief argument you're making is a tough one to see through to any conclusion, though that doesn't render it invalid. Like, I said earlier, though Lost has some sci-fi, it's essentially a work of magical realism. Just like a small village in 100 Years of Solitude has flying carpets, ghosts and prophets, Lost's island is filled with magic. Whether or not it resonates with you isn't something to be measured qualitatively. I'm reminded of your post on vampire chick lit. I find those conceits inherently uninteresting, but that's not to say I don't recognize that there's something there. It's just that it's not something that fascinates me. I could sit here and shit all over Wagner's operas for not engaging me, but that doesn't mean they're not brilliant.

Y: Well, you make an interesting point, but how do you know that it's magical realism? The show seems to convey a sense that it is all based on science, and/or personal delusions. If magical realism is explaining away these questions, then where does the value lie? There's a problem...solved by magic! (Also, while there is some explanation for things on the island, the list of unanswered questions is very, very long in my opinion. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but I think that this point could support the negative's argument). And for the negative, do you think that there is necessarily a need for the plot to progress quickly given the serial nature of the show? It seems to be driven on just a little bit of explanation each week. Why should a show punish patience?

LD: As far as the magical realism point goes, I can't say 100% that it's magic, but I think all the indicators are there. Science has a hard time explaining an invisible man who can attack you (Jacob), how to reincarnate the dead (Christian), how to be immortal (Richard Alpert), or how to teleport an entire damn island without creating an enormous Tsunami (teleporting the island without creating an enormous tsunami). While I grant you that they could come up with some B.S. science to support this (I mean, we've all enjoyed shows with faster than light travel, right?) it's still just magic. The world these characters live is more extreme than our own, and those extremes are used to examine the characters.

I know there are a lot of mysteries still out there, my point is that they're rolling mysteries. We've solved a huge number of them, and there are more outstanding. But, it's not as though the questions raised during season one are still the most pressing on the show. I mean, how many times did we see the monster in season 4. Maybe twice? I can only recall one time, and that was when it was under Ben's control.

N8: I think we're getting close to something. Magical realism cannot be a cover to arbitrary plot solutions. To pick up on a thread here, it's much more important to my evaluation/enjoyment of a show for it to provide interesting/plausible/novel explanations to its mysteries than to simply provide some explanation for that. When an explanation doesn't grow organically out of what's come before, it's not really that interesting to most people. Imagine a mystery novel of twelve people on a train, the lights go out, and one of them has a knife in his chest. After hundreds of pages of red herrings and theories for who among the 11 did it, if you find out in the last chapter that it was a fucking time-traveling alien, you're going to be pissed. Or at least I would be, because a mystery isn't just about a solution -- it's about how you get there. I also think I have a slightly different understanding or concept (not necessarily more right than yours) of what magical realism is. But I think that's a side-track, and I'm guilty of too many already. (I touched on how fiction can get at the real, which is related in some ways to magical realism, though distinct, I think, in my World War Z post).

Y: [I should mention that at this point, Season 4 had been overly spoiled for me (Penny and Desmond get together? The smoke monster is back and controlled by Ben? Ben and Widmore have a contract? THEY MOVED THE ISLAND???). But I figured that might happen going into this. I should also clarify that given what I've seen so far, moving the island does not seem to be that crazy of an idea. I was just surprised that it goes there.]

N8: See, just from reading this, I feel like Lost is silly (which maybe isn't fair). Moved the island? Are you fucking serious? Is the island a giant turtle? Is the island made of cotton candy? That would be magical, but not realism... What I fail to see N8, is how you draw the conclusion that we've got a time-traveling space alien here. In fact, it seems to me that we got all our time-traveling space aliens out long ago, and now we're dealing with their ramifications on the characters caught in their path.

The monster is largely irrelevant. The polar bears haven't been seen in years. The hatches are mostly useless. We've got four factions: Ben Linus, the Others, Widmore, and the Castaways. Ben and Widmore are fighting to see who possesses the island, we're unsure about what exactly the others want (but they're a breand new faction without Ben), and the Castaways, who just want to be free of everyone else. The "mysteries" are just the MacGuffin.

LD: But, that's just it...all you're seeing is the 10,000 foot explanation, without the specifics. I'll admit that I found the moving of the island to be a bit absurd, but given what we know about the island, it's not particularly implausible.

N8: Here is where I will freely admit I don't know whether that's true or not. I jumped from the show when it presented and seemed likely to continue to present time-traveling space aliens to spice things up. If they are mostly in the show's past, maybe it has improved. I suppose I am just explaining that I decided not to stick with a show that seemed subjectively to be headed in that direction. There were probably other reasons it didn't grab me during the first season, but I think that's a big one.

LD: Agreed. And it'll seem less crazy after season 4 (which is worth if for more than the broad stroke spoilers you've gotten).

N8: Sure. Moving the island - by itself - isn't implausible. But you have to add that to LD's list of implausible items, in my view. Polar bears AND moving islands AND weird scientist cults building hatches AND the others AND... that's where the show falls apart for me. Testing my ability to accept what it throws at the viewer.

E: Guys is it so unbelievable that in season 3, Ludacris guest stars and is all like "MOVE BITCH! GET OUT THE WAY! GET OUT THE WAY, BITCH, GET OUT THE WAY!" thereby unlocking the island's secret password to awaken the luck dragon to move the island to the other side of the ocean? You act like this is all MAGIC and shit. This is science.

[ed. note: See?]

I don't get why it's so hard to buy. It's a mythology that isn't established in history, but it's the same mythology as vampires or futuristic robots or whatever.

LD: The polar bears were brought by the Dharma Initiative. That's just the text of the show.

The weird scientist cult is a bunch of smart hippies from the university of Michigan who wanted to study the energy that the island puts out.

I don't find either of those implausible

N8: The "energy"? You mean the electromagnetic radiation emitted from the heartbeat of the giant turtle? [ed. note: Bonus Discworld reference!]
I'm not saying that you can't offer an explanation for any aspect of a fictional story. But you don't agree that the more aspects of a show that require explanation, the harder it is for the fantasy to cohere? Nothing implausible about bring a polar bear to the island, agreed. So why does the show put it in there? What precisely did the smart hippies want to do with it? Where did they get their funding for a multi-million dollar project on a remote island?

I'm sure all of these things can be explained. I could explain a story that starts with a sex-ed conversation between LD and a talking goat, three aliens, and a waffle iron, but if it takes me 60 episodes to get to that explanation, while my readers/viewers spend most of their time wondering WTF while I keep throwing new random oddities in there to explain when I run out of the ones I started with, then I feel like it's more of a trick than anything else. I'm not entertained merely by resolution; it's got to be interesting along the way. You guys seem to find it interesting, but I think you can see why someone else wouldn't. LD: We're not the ones arguing in makes it "bad" that is does. And yes, we can explain the multi-million dollar funding really easily. In fact, it was given in the same episode in which the introduced the group of scientists.

The issue here is that you're begging for explanations from entertainment you don't like, whereas you don't ask the same of entertainment you do like.

Take a Tauren. Are their joints TRULY built to handle the stresses of bipedal movement? You don't know, and therefore, the World of Warcraft is total bullshit! Also, their spinal column doesn't allow for a full horizontal axis of cranial movement, yet the game doesn't penalize you for that. I mean, what the hell, is anyone even paying attention? Oh, and some characters can just cast magic while other can't! Why is that? It's never explained, so I can hardly interest myself in the story of the game when there are so many holes.

E: This is becoming too geeky for me. A guy who wrote to an anime magazine to correct their mistake.

N8: I think one obvious difference is that Lost doesn't abandon most of the rules of reality. It expects you to keep all of your assumptions about who the world operates but then seems to violate those assumptions and create "explanations." Obviously there's no "realism" in a video game or chess or checkers. But they don't ask for it. Lost does ask for it but lacks the "realism" part you need for magical realism, laughing at you all the while. But that's just me.

LD: I'm curious as to what you see magical realism to be. We're working from very different places, I think.

N8: It's a term that comes out of Latin American lit, including Gabriel Marcia-Marquez whom you mentioned, in which the world is primarily realistic but has overtones or moments of unreality. I'm not an expert, so let's use the definition of Franz Rom, who I just learned introduced the term and defined it as a work that "is anchored in everyday reality, but has overtones of fantasy or wonder." Wikipedia also says this about it, which is relevant to our discussion: Roh used this term to describe painting which signaled a return to realism after expressionism's extravagances which sought to redesign objects to reveal the spirits of those objects.

I often think of Pan's Labyrinth in this context. There is a very stark backdrop of realism and the protagonist retreats into magical moments between moments of realism. Lost is not of this ilk, from what I have seen of it. There is a backdrop of realism with tortured attempts at explanation. It is significant that a magical realist is usually using magic or fantasy to illuminate or expand upon the sensual feeling or drama of the story and it often seems to have a psychological element (e.g. it only happens to one person or through the retelling of one person).

That hearkens back to the original use of the term by Rom to describe visual art, where the spirit within was captured -- and even made more real, I might say -- by magic. Lost offers explanations that are supposed to float in the real world for most of these mysteries, as you have already articulated. That's not magical realism. It's realism. It's just arguably poorly constructed narrative realism.

SN: The giant turtle thing was already done (well) in Golden Axe, for the record. Also ,the show Lost is retarded. The plot line of “I’m stuck on an island and random shit happens and some of it is explained and some isn’t” doesn’t work for me. And for the record, even Tom Hanks as a FedEx employee stranded alone got off his island in 4 years.

E: Um, alone? What about Wilson?

LD: Amateur...the Lost people were only there like 6 months.

N8: Some of there were there for 16 years, thought, right? Tom Hanks kicks their asses. I hope he shows up in season 5 to fight the Others.

E: You're thinking of that Gilligan's island episode.

SN: Whatever, the point being the show is 5 years old. Wilson was the shit. Word is, he became king of the sea after falling off the raft

Y: We're getting off topic. Is there anything more to be said?

SN: Were gonna need a bigger boa. [1 minute later]

Were gonna need a bigger boat.

E: I liked the thought of needing a bigger boa.

SN: Maybe a bigger python.

[and as always, we end here, with a whimper, and with no conclusion]

Wanted to remind everyone that the latest Powers Trade Paperback is being released today. I don't have the focus or dedication to follow comics as they are released serially, so I am very pleased that publishers are now pretty regular with their TPB offerings. Powers is arguably the second-best series currently being written today [with apologies to Ex Machina (close), Fables (haven't read any yet), and Kick-Ass (ditto)]. As for the best series, well, we all know what the best series is.

Here we go, I'm stepping up to bat with our friends at Hey There's a Bird In This Mirror! in analyzing Okkervil River's The Stage Names and The Stand Ins. Some necessary reading:

Intro
Part 1

"This Art Is Not a Movie...or Maybe" - The Creative Process Songs

The songs:
Our Life is Not a Movie...Or Maybe
Unless It's Kicks
Lost Coastlines
Singer/Songwriter

If you've ever seen the documentary Comedian, you would've heard Jerry Seinfeld tell a story to a younger comedian about what the struggle of their craft is all about. He tells the story of the Glenn Miller orchestra, on their way to play a show in the dead of winter. When their bus breaks down on the side of the road, they have to walk the last mile in the snow and bitter cold holding their instruments in hand, dressed in tuxedos, wet, cold and miserable. On the way to the concert hall, they come upon a house. Through the window, they can see a family sitting around a dinner table, a fire roaring in the background, kids nicely dressed, just a Norman Rockwell-esque scene. And in the cold, dripping from snow and shivering while holding their instruments, one of the musicians turns to another and whispers, "Can you believe people live like this?"

For some reason, this story came to mind when I was digging through the songs listed here, all having to do with the creative process told through the eyes of Okkervil River's lead songwriter, Will Sheff. I've always held the belief that there are two kinds of people in life: the kind of people who do things they love because it makes them affirmatively happy, and the kind of people who do the things they love because if they didn't, they'd be miserable. And there's really no question that Sheff belongs to the latter group, as I wouldn't go so far to call him a consistently happy guy. And through the narrative scheme of The Stage Names and The Stand Ins, Sheff and co. kind of mirror those players in the Miller orchestra…there's a certain misery in the creative process, with everything that goes into it and everything that comes out of it. But in the end, there's a certain glory and celebration to it.

It would be kind of pointless to start anywhere other than with "Our Life Is Not a Movie…or Maybe." Even examining the title alone, Sheff is already playing with the listener. The title is a back and forth pondering of the self-importance of an artist, whether that artist is the universal creative mind, or specifically the players of Okkervil River. Some lyrics to ponder:

"No fade in: film begins on a kid in the big city.
And no cut to a costly parade (that's for him only!).
No dissolve to a sliver of grey (that's his new lady!)
where she glows just like grain on the flickering pane of some great movie."

You'd think that the song is simply speaking on the fabricated world that celebrity gives someone, a lead singer on stage lost in his own reverie and drowning in his own arrogance. But as the song ends, Sheff brays:

"From the speakers your fake masterpiece is serenely dribbling.
When the air around your chair fills with heat, that's the flames licking
beneath the clock on the clean mantelpiece. It's got a calm clicking,
like a pro at his editing suite takes two weeks stitching up some bad movie."

Switch the perspective from the singer on stage, lost in his fantasy, into the manufactured world of the studio musician relegated to creating a consumer product, and you start to realize the twisted irony that Sheff creates. Where at first, the fantasy could be seen as the arrogant, haughty actions of the man-child, we start to realize that there's a childlike purity in getting lost in the music, or in any artistic endeavor. One that's at least preferred to the reality of creating music in such a controlled, metered, and stifled atmosphere. There's an innocence lost in the realization that the life in pursuit of artistic intentions will be as much about breaking down your craft into sound files, tracks, retakes, and cutting room castoffs probably more so than the fantasy of losing yourself in the spotlights of a concert, serenaded by the cheers of fans. And yet, the former is a prerequisite for the latter. The product has to exist for the artist to be able to show it to others, and while it may be more fun to strut on stage and bask in the glow of ephemeral adoration, the reality of being an artist is that it's a grind, it requires dedication, effort, and tireless commitment to the unexciting elements of your art. In this instance, the title, when comparing life to a movie, is apt in that the finished product is always much more glamorous and seemingly pure than the actual process it takes to complete it. Maybe it's like a movie, maybe it's not, depending on the angle you look at it from.

"Unless It's Kicks" is a sensible follow-up to "Movie…," in that the only logical reaction the artist could have is ignorance to this structure. Where "Movie…" introduced this concept of double-edged sword of the creative process, "Kicks" takes it into a visceral realm. What does the music do to you? How do we react to it on a purely emotional level? Because at the core of creativity, there is a self-awareness of creating this for an audience, even when the audience is the artist himself:

"What hits against this chest unless it's a sick man's hand
From some mid-level band
He's been driving too long"

The only thing that can corrupt the music, or the art, is the awareness of an artist who fails to keep that perspective on the process, a band that's been playing too long, one that's been made sick with the knowledge that "Movie…" sought to expose and to obscure in the same breath. But where a part of "Movie…" could be taken to say that the obliviousness of the artist was a bad thing, here Sheff shows that the ignorance is bliss attitude could be a boon:

"And I know it's a lie
But I'll still give my love
Hey, my heart's on the line
For your hands to pluck off"

It's worth mentioning that the driving instrumentation behind both "Movie…" and "Kicks" mimic the earnestness in Sheff's voice, creating a kind of respectable vulnerability in his display of reckless abandon in losing himself in the art. Being that the Stage Names is showing us the perspective of the creative process from the artist himself, it would make sense that the oblivious artist would, at least in his own mind, have a soundtrack of determination, of yelling to the rafters even when he knows he's wrong, or doomed for failure. As the page turns to The Stand Ins, we go beyond the first person view of the creator, and see those that surround him.
"Singer/Songwriter" sees a turn from the somewhat vulnerable, earnest voice of Sheff, into the raspy, vicious snarl that's appropriately backed a stutter strummed acoustic guitar riff, with the sliding electric fill ins. Everything about it shows a certain sarcasm regarding those that surround the artists. Sheff growls:

"You've got taste, you've got taste
What a waste that that's all that you have"

Taking this one of two ways, it could be the audience revolting against the artist for making a patently false product, or it could be the artist revolting against those that ignore his pure product in favor of what some critics, scholars, or fans may regard as better, for whatever reasons. Regardless, Sheff is now lobbing bombs outside of the inherent quality of the music he creates, attacking the things that his product is judged against, angry that some may think that "good taste" doesn't equate with liking his own creations.

"And this thing you once said disappeared from my head
In the time that it took to be amazed
And this thing you once did might have dazzled the kids
But the kids once grown up are gonna walk away
And your world is gonna change nothing"

The last refrain rings out, as Sheff repeats the futility of his, and everyone else's actions. Nothing changes, even though nothing is the same. Moving to "Lost Coastlines," the anger is replaced by sadness. The song is as much about parting ways with a crowd, as it is about parting ways with your art and the accoutrements that have become fixtures in your life. Where the songs from The Stage Names spoke of the glory of fame and fortune, the allures of the parades of fans and the beautiful woman that the artist may find from fame and success, "Coastlines" now speaks of waving goodbye to friends, carrying bags on buses and planes, the listlessness of traveling and the ever changing players that fade in and out of the band's consciousness. As the song ends, Sheff and Meiburg sing with no purpose:

"And every night finds us rocking and rolling on waves wild and wide, well we have lost our way, nobody's gonna say it outright. Just go la la la la la la la la la….."

And back again we are to the original point. That creative pursuits may bring you fame, fortune, fans, success, and any other self aggrandizing forms of validation, Sheff's sentiment is that they sing a song simply because they don't know what else to do. The reason that "Coastlines" works so well, is that it is inhabited by sadness, loss, regret, guilt, and yet the conclusion is that they sing a song because it keeps them buoyant until they reach the next stop, not knowing whether the next stop may be the last stop. This sentiment only further enforced by the fact that now Meiburg is off doing Shearwater, and Sheff is still helming Okkervil without his long-time partner.

The lasting sentiment that these songs weave together is that the creative process is a living, breathing organism, adapting and changing regardless of your wishes as fans, or their wishes as artists. There is a half life on the sustainability of all art, that at some point people will simply stop listening to a record, stop reading a book, stop looking at a painting. And yet, the life of an artist is cursed to keep perpetuating this cycle in the pursuit of something timeless, and blessed to have those moments where life is like a movie, as much as he's cursed to have those moments where it will be denied to him, where the creative endeavors we seek to finish will tear apart the fabric of our lives as we know it. Best friends become strangers, fans become critics, critics become fans, and eventually all is forgotten.

But overall, in the end, we sing a song together, because sometimes it's all we can do from going mad. Because if we didn't do it, we'd be miserable. And because like those orchestra players, you really can't believe that people would live any other way.

One of the things that is great about E is that he gets really, really, really into things upon occasion. I think that it's awesome that he displays a high level of passion for things.

Recently, one of those things was the show Chuck. At his behest, I began watching the show (Season on on Netflix, Season 2 on Hulu), and I'm now caught up.

As a comedic spy show, Chuck is near pitch-perfect. Equal parts tech, jokes, geeks, spies, and action, Chuck is an hour of well-written fun.

To sum up the premise of Chuck (the show), Chuck (the character) is an employee at Buy More's Nerd Herd (i.e. Best Buy's Geek Squad), complete with his own car (the Nerd Herder, which is very similar in pronunciation to the famed Star Wars "Nerf Herder." This is the tip of the iceberg when it comes to geeky linguistic puns. Honestly, it really is the tip, it seems like every guest character is an homage to some geeky character/show/etc. My favorite? A character in the last episode before the winter hiatus was named Ned Ryerson).

Chuck is clearly an intelligent guy, but a geek that's just stuck in a rut and working at this dead-endish job. He gets an email from his old college roommate, Bryce Larkin (who happens to be a spy), which contains something called the Intersect that gets imprinted into Chuck's brain. The Intersect is basically a repository of all of the intelligence from the CIA/NSA/FBI/etc. The Intersect contains tons and tons of images, which are all in Chuck now.

Eventually, intelligence operatives find him, and he is protected by two agents, CIA agent Sarah Walker and NSA operative John Casey. The government decides to keep Chuck in his current situation, for TV-plot reasons. Casey becomes an employee at Buy More, and Sarah takes cover as Chuck's girlfriend, and works at a fast-food hot dog restaurant. There are also Chuck's "real-life" friends and family: his sister and her boyfriend, his best friend Morgan, and plenty of other Buy More employees that are solid characters.

From there, each week our heroes are tasked with stopping some mid-level national security emergency. Frequently, these emergencies tie back in some way to a shadowy agency-within-an-agency known as the Fulcrum. The Government wants to make sure that no one knows Chuck is the Intersect, and Fulcrum wants the Intersect, but first has to find out where it is.

Within this narrative framework, the show's best work is done through character interaction. Themes of family, friendship, trust, and realized/unrealized potential are all explored in deft and interesting ways. Furthermore, each episode builds a little bit more into the history of the characters, which really creates them as believable characters, albeit ones operating in an incredibly stylized world.

I wouldn't recommend that you jump into the series when it picks back up in a couple of weeks, but I would say that if you're looking for a solid hour of popcorn level fun each week, catch up while you can, you'll thank me (and E).

We've never been shy about our appreciation of fellow bloggers Dave and Raina over at Hey, There's a Bird in This Mirror!  They're two of the sharpest and cleverest people you'll find on these here internets, and that's why E and I have been so eager to find a project on which we could collaborate with them.  That project is Overkill River, an analysis of the band's last two albums, The Stage Names and The Stand Ins.  For more, I kindly suggest you take a peek at the first installment of our cross-blog project right here.

Well, for those of us in DC, Inauguration Weekend/Clusterfuck 2009 is officially upon us. If you could see the billion portapotties around the National Mall, you'd understand how big an event this truly is. So friendly word of advice, if you're in DC, please, please, stand to the right, walk to the left on the escalators. Seriously, you have no idea how big a deal this is to us. When someone is standing to the left on the escalator, I want to murder them. MURDER THEM.

Also, I saw Jay-Z at the mall today, just shoppin'. He's pretty tall.

Image: From Chris's ISB

It's pointless for me to laud Waltz With Bashir in a review. The simple truth is that this movie should honestly be seen by everyone. The documentary is a self-reflection of filmmaker Ari Folman's experiences as a young man in the Israeli army and the events that unfolded in the 1982 Lebanon war and his discussions with fellow soldiers and other involved parties regarding the Sabra and Shatila massacre that resulted in the deaths of thousands of Palestinian civilians. Told completely in flashback, through a combination of CGI and frame-by-frame animation, the story is a stylized mix of stark reality and hazy, hallucinogenic images that weave together in a tapestry of the horrors of war, and the toll it takes on those who fought them.

Beyond the obvious messages, Waltz With Bashir forcefully demonstrates the full power of cinema. There is unquestionable beauty in this film; and whether that results from the animation or the inherent aesthetics of the scenes themselves, it is a pleasurable joy to look at. On top of that, Folman melds in echoes of familiar action movie tropes, which if cut together differently without the gravitas the subject matter requires, would've made this movie something more similar to a twisted studio war flick. But Folman never allows you to fall into a sense that you're watching anything but a documentary, not for a second. And it's with this cognitive dissonance that you approach the movie, that there is something alluring, beautiful, and appealing about this work that focuses on a subject matter that is so difficult to fully digest. And the film challenges you to come to grips with how you enjoy the filmwatching experience, and what you should and do take away from it after the final reel spins. The movie is a constant struggle to watch with the conventions you bring to it, about war movies, documentaries, or film in general.....but the struggle is a necessary one.

The electric power of Waltz With Bashir should be a monument to why movies are important, why they can affect us so deeply, why they are essential to our cultural mindset and development as a society. I'm not trying to say this film is perfect, or that everyone is assured to love it. I'm just saying that everything to love about film is here, from the gorgeous aesthetics to the challenging nature of its structure, to the importance of the message at the core. And that even though this review may tell you nothing specific about the movie, you should see it.

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

The Movie: 40 Days, 40 Nights

The Blurb: A guy getting over his ex decides that sex is ruining his life, so for Lent he cuts out all forms of sex (including masturbation). Ironically, he meets a girl he legitimately falls for, and of course things go a kerfluffle! What follows is a series of events that involve boners, porn, weird religious undertones, and one of the worst love scenes I've ever seen in my life. This includes the scene from Alone in the Dark, LD. And in the end, he realizes what true love is! Or something.

The Conventions: Retarded guy friends group, pornography is hilarious, laundry is where love forms

Did I cry? No.

Current State of Mind: Y'know, it's kind of amazing that a movie so "unconventional" can be so utterly uninspired. You can kinda see what this movie was going for, an R-rated movie that focuses mainly on sex with a weird....religious message mixed in, and in the end strives to say something about love. It's even kind of refreshing to see a comedy that tries so hard to be frank about sexuality without attempting to be edgy. But jesus, this movie is fucking stupid. It's not bad even, it's just stupid.

So what is my current state of mind? I've come to the realization that no matter how bad a movie may be, it does have the cheerful effect of reminding me that I am utterly alone. Hooray! So I think to myself, how would this feel if I was in a relationship and watching these movies by myself. Undoubtedly, I'd return to the relationship with an inflated sense of optimism having obviously spent the last hour and a half thinking of HER in the context of all these sappy romantic comedy conventions. And at some point, things wouldn't go the way they do in the movies...sure we'd have moments, we've all had moments where our lives were like a good (or not so good) movie, but at some point things would go awry. And in some cases, things wouldn't work out by the end. If I'm used to this structure, these convnentions, these signals that things are heading to a logical conclusion, and I'm thinking of her with regard to these movies, it's a 100% probability that she will disappoint. Knowing that, is that helpful to me for the future? Or making it worse?

I don't know, but I have 22 more movies to figure out.

Up Next: Good Luck Chuck. dj, get that sniper rifle ready...

Being that the Pittsburgh Steelers, the unofficial team of this blog, are playing the Baltimore Ravens, the official most-hated team of this blog, this weekend for a trip to the Superbowl, I thought I'd take a moment to post some love here. I also have a bet that if the Ravens win, I have to change my middle name on facebook to "Wacko for Flacco" until the Superbowl is over, which I REALLY don't want to do. So Go Stillers.

Being a hip hop head, I've seen my fair share of trends come and go (missing persons notice: The Cool Kids and most of hipster rap). I cut my teeth on the standard 90's era hip hop, back when "rap was something you did, hip hop was something you lived," as we saw the rise of most of the modern veterans begin (e.g. Jay-Z, Nas, Biggie, Wu-Tang), while watching the late 80's vets and collectives evolve into a new sound that mixed a level of street commercialism with a modicum of required consciousness (e.g. De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest, Project Blowed). Moving forward into college, I came to love the indie scene, spending most of my days trolling the dusty record crates of local used record shops and reveling in the early days of Rawkus, on to the post-modern stylings of Definitive Jux, Rhymesayers, and others. So it's a bit weird to stand here and say that my favorite rap these days is Crack Rap.

I guess you could trace Crack Rap all the way back to "White Lines" with Melle Mel describing the highs and lows of being on the blow, but I'd say that Jay-Z's Reasonable Doubt was the first time a rapper took to bragging on the merits of being a coke dealer, while also dispensing warnings on living a life where both cops, users, and rivals made life a lonely, isolated experience amidst riches and luxury. Even back then, the rhymes, while heavy with emotion, were haunted with a sense of cold detachment that didn't seek to glorify the craft or even attempt to reform the system (see: Public Enemy's "Night of the Living Bassheads"). While other rappers were watching Scarface on repeat, reveling in the "live fast, die young" mentality, the dawn of the 21st century had a corps of emcees who came of age in an era after the war on drugs had already gotten its big push, and subsequently left its skeleton over the projects leaving behind a system that could recycle low-tier criminals while leaving the figureheads in place to keep the drug economy running. One need only to watch a season of The Wire to see the folly in law enforcement's efforts. And with the early 2000's dawning, emcees were being brought up in a world where crack and coke weren't dangers, nor were they easy ways out. They were realities of life, and dealt with as lazily as a 9 to 5 career job. Where the 90's had a golden age of pensive, self-reflective emcees speaking on raising themselves out of the masses, the 2000's had emcees emerging with a cold, nihilistic view where luxury wasn't a factor of happiness, and drugs were neither a boon nor a bane on their daily lives.


Enter the current genre of Crack Rap, one that peaked about 2 years ago and has consistently drawn a devoted fan base from a vast array of social circles. And sure, this is nothing new to hip hop, nor is the talk of guns, murder, and drugs anything controversial or even noteworthy. This is a document of the reality that many young people live in these days. But what has changed is the heart that inhabits the music. It's grown cold, dark, empty. The Clipse, one of the central acts of Crack Rap, spit lyrics that use street slang and luxury lingo side by side, with Pusha T and Malice's monotonous voices hinting at the emptiness behind any of the strutting they push out as a front. It's not braggadocio, it's a laundry list of the things they fill their lives with, while unmoved by the fact that they encourage the self-destructive nature of a drug that has long plagued their communities. At the same time, they're wholly unexcited by the luxuries this life affords them. Furs, watches, fancy whips, these used to be the subject of entire songs with the impassioned sentiment of "I've got more money than you, bitch" behind it. Now, it's a callous and uninspired name-drop-a-thon of high end consumer goods seems to say "of course I have money, so what." Where Silkk Da Shocker used to watch Scarface 30 times a day on multiple tv screens, these emcees are bored, tired of this mentality and perfectly content to live their lives as pushers, with jail bids when necessary, only to come back and set up shop again to perpetuate the cycle.

Other acts like Rick Ross, Young Jeezy, have similar outlooks. And while it may be presumptuous to say that these men have ever actually dealt drugs or not, the fact remains that this music connects with people in a current timeframe where technology, economy, world events, yes even 9-11, have made for a world more content with keeping people at arm's length, even keeping one's own emotions at bay to survive in what is becoming an expanding global community, where everyone is coming closer together only to realize that we are all more removed from each other than ever. There's poetry in these seemingly haughty, arrogant lyrics, with a glorified desperation that manages to be both cavalier and vulnerable. Where the 90's were about celebration, self-discovery even in street rappers, this genre has paved the way for a static oblivion that manages to glorify nothingness in an enjoyable way.

The "Us against Them" mentality that the war on drugs fostered has turned inward, and given us a glamorized view of a war for a generation's soul. Only it seems like those who would need saving are fighting on the wrong side, and winning in spades. All the while, creating music that's both great to bump in the ride, but also to ponder the fact that crack and cocaine are now being used to push an image and a sound that's both terrifying in concept, but invigorating to a genre that needed to shake off the dust and connect on a more visceral, striking level.

Word is we might be attracting some advertising to the site...

In honor of me attending a Prince vs. Michael Jackson vs. Madonna dance party tomorrow, here is a post where I make a bunch of controversially conclusive statements about these three seminal artists in an effort to piss off the blogosphere. If you know where the party's at, I'm going to be the one yelling the loudest when the DJ stops the music and says "where the bloggers at!?" WOOO!

PRINCE:

• "Kiss" is not as good as you think it is
• "Purple Rain" IS as good as you think it is
• It is completely appropriate to air guitar during the guitar solo in "Purple Rain" (also acceptable circumstance, Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher" solo, but surprisingly NOT "Sweet Child O'Mine")
• "Alphabet St." is an underrated song
• What the fuck is a raspberry beret?
• In Re: Controversy...Prince is the only human being capable of existing in both gay and straight states simultaneously, to the extreme in both directions, without ripping the fabric of space and time
  
• "Diamonds and Pearls" is as creepy as you think it is
• "Pussy Control" should be our national anthem

MICHAEL JACKSON:

• Off the Wall is his best album. YEAH I SAID IT, THRILLER.
• "Smooth Criminal" is not as good as you think it is
• "Thriller" IS as good as you think it is
• Yes, that's Heavy D in "Jam"...why? Why not?
• "Heal the World" is gay
• "In the Closet" surprisingly, is not
• "Black or White" has an annoying intro that's close to 1 minute. ONE FUCKING MINUTE Michael Jackson. Seriously? Your hit single, and you make us wait 55 seconds for the song to start? You're an asshole.
  
• If you're standing around someone when "Burn this Disco Out" comes on, and they don't start dancing? They are a witch. Tie them up and throw them in the closest body of water. If they float, they are a witch. Burn at stake. If they sink, they are not a witch. But best to err on the side of caution.
  
  
  

MADONNA:

• Sucks.
  

Your friendly bloggers at The Geek Prospectus have been a bit absent recently. We understand that, and we want you to know that it doesn't mean that we love you any less than we did before. In fact, the reason we've been away is because we're working on new ways to show you just how much we DO love you. So please, be patient with us. Once SN is sworn in on the 20th, we'll be able to focus on bringing you news that's entirely unrelated to the following topics:

Failure To Launch
50 First Dates
Step Up 2 The Streets
Hitch

More posts to come today.

For no raisin!

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

The Movie: Failure to Launch

The Blurb: Matthew McConaughey is a...boat broker? Who lives at home with his parents, who hire Sarah Jessica Parker to feign love so that he'll move out of his parents' place. Only...wait for it....she actually falls in love with him! And that is seriously ALL that it takes to summarize this movie. L-I-V-I-N MAN!

The Conventions: Retarded bro friends group, sports as an excuse to talk about emotions, breakup in the rain, sailing is love!

Did I cry? um, no.

Current State of Mind: I'm not entirely sure who this movie was made for, being that it has absolutely nothing to do with love, and for some reason contains multiple animal-attacking jokes that have no relevance or place in the plot (these animals are a chipmunk, a DOLPHIN, a mockingbird, and an iguana or something). In fact, this movie is pretty insulting to both genders. It simplifies how men see relationships to the utmost degree (I have to believe even McConaughey is more complex than this), and makes women appear to be cold, ruthless, and mechanical about affection, using sex as a "last resort to keep a guy." And maybe I'd be angrier if this movie had any rancor in it, but it doesn't. It just kind of exists, but a part of me doesn't even believe that it takes itself seriously. I don't mean in the plot, I mean as an entity in this universe. Like, the fact that it exists in the space time continuum.

This is a romantic comedy about a relationship that is just kinda two people dating and having a good time with each other. And like this movie, that kind of relationship is probably a waste of your time, even more so if you try to convince yourself that it's "love" like the last 30 min of this movie tries to do.

Up Next: 40 Days, 40 Nights

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

The movie: 50 First Dates

The Blurb: Adam Sandler is a Hawaiian veterinarian playboy (yep, seriously) who falls in love with a girl. Sounds pretty conventional, but here comes the twist: she has no short term memory! So every morning when she wakes up, she can't remember anything from the previous day. So weirdly, Sandler, who I THINK likes her though I'm honestly even sure, decides to try to win her favor every single day. Hence the name, 50 First Dates. Oh, and Rob Schneider is a Hawaiian pothead with one eye, who again proves that he's only funny when relegated to side roles in Sandler movies.

The Conventions: Aside from the AMNESIA, there's: the cute animals, a nice montage, breakup in the rain, gratuitous Rob Schneider cross dressing scene

Did I Cry? Nope. No movie has managed to break that threshold. Which will be the first!

Current State of Mind: I can't figure out if my mind is slowly becoming mush, or if my taste in movies is getting worse, or if 50 First Dates was actually kind of charming. I didn't want to like this movie from the start, but it fully won me over by the end. Even though Sandler is completely unbelievable as a charming guy, or the logistics of the plot are utterly ridiculous, or the movie continually strives to be as conventional as possible. I don't know, something about it was just enjoyable.

Maybe it's the fact that one of my favorite parts about falling for someone is that threshold you pass when you finally get to talk to them about when you both started liking each other, or all the funny things you noticed about them when they didn't know you were looking. The little things about them that made you realize you wanted to be a part of their life. Half of this movie is essentially Sandler telling Barrymore all those things, and y'know what? She sells it, that look that communicates this idea that the person can't believe you'd ever notice them, and being totally won over by it. It was very endearing, even if it wasn't done in the most innovative way.

I'm not entirely sure how this movie affects my mind, but I hope to god there are some 27 Dresses still left in the clip (isn't that terrible, that I'm WISHING for that?). Because I don't know if I can stand the emotional gut punches of actually feeling my ticker even slightly being moved by the movies I was expecting to barf through. In any case, six down.

Up Next: Failure to Launch

After hearing E rave about Step Up 2 The Streets for months now, I was excited to see the film added to Netflix's growing "Watch It Now" library. Here are the many reasons that this film sucks:

1) For a movie based on awesome dancers, a lot of the dancing kind of sucks. The lead actress is clearly a decent dancer, but is completely out of her depth among the professionals that make up the rest of the cast. The best example of the poor dancing is the mystifying opening scene, in which the allegedly great 410 Crew dances awkwardly for about one minute in a Baltimore Metro car. The entire sequence is stilted, awkwardly shot, and bereft of anything breathtaking. Of course, it was only one minute long, which leads me to my next complaint...

2) The movie takes place on an alternate Earth in which dancing is both terrifying and illegal. The 410 crew is chased out of the subway car by the police, and their exploits are the lead story on the news that night, where it is pointed out that their utterly nonviolent dancing exploits have been terrifying the city for weeks. This is happening in BALTIMORE, a city occasionally referred to as Bodymore, Murdaland.

It's not just this dancing that's illegal. The final dance competition, called The Streets because the writers of the film wear helmets and bibs at all times, is also apparently illegal, although no reason is given why a dance competition would be illegal.

3) I'm glad to see a movie that's unafraid to show that privileged white kids from the suburbs can defeat a rag-tag group of self-taught kids who didn't have all the advantages.

4) The acting and dialogue. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Watch 5 minutes of the movie and you'll see what I mean. You've never seen people work harder to sound credibly "street" while simultaneously failing so hard. If you didn't know this was a serious movie, you'd swear it was called "Dance Movie".

5) The biggest flaw in the entire film is that none of the characters ever seem to act in a remotely human manner. You hear over and over and over again about how the main character is just TOO REBELLIOUS TO CONTROL. The extent of her rebellion? Well, she does goof off a bit in one of her classes one time. Outside of that, we never see her do anything wrong, but the rest of the cast treats her like a rabid dog, ready to pounce at any time. I'd love to spend more time listing more examples, but it's just not worth it. This movie sucks. It grates on your ears and your eyes for its entire, interminable running time.

The worst part of the whole thing is that the movie teases with The JabbaWockeeZ, who are significantly more interesting that anything that's actually part of the plot:

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

Before we begin, I just want to say this: holy hell, rom coms are long these days. Hitch is 118 minutes long. Whatever happened to a nice 90 minute comedy? Anyway, here we go...

The Movie: Hitch

The Blurb: Alex Hitchins is a date doctor who helps men get girls they are in love with. So he helps a fat guy get a rich, beautiful socialite while falling in love with a cynical gossip columnist whose usual job is to report on the infidelities of celebrities. So how ironic is it that her main story is on the girl that the fat guy's in love with? AAWKWARD.

The Conventions: White guys can't dance!, late night confessions of skeletons to foster intimacy, speed dating, the "everyone's sad" montage

Did I Cry? No

Current State Of Mind: Y'know, I remember the trailers for this movie, and thinking it was going to be different than it actually was. And I actually really enjoyed it. It is cheesy as all hell, but did a decent job of cloaking an interesting "this is how men are" message beneath the superficial "this is how women are" construct. I did appreciate Will Smith's little rant during the speed dating scene about how he helps women get out of their own way so that good guys like Albert have a chance. While this may or may not be a reality, it's still a nice thought that in those moments when a good guy (read: me) likes a girl who's out of our league, that we have a shot at getting them if they can get shaken up out of their pre-conceived notion of what they look for in a guy. It may be false hope, but it's hope nonetheless.

It's nice to believe that with the right things to say and do, that any guy can get any girl if he legitimately cares for her enough. But we all know that's not true, right? Because it's a logical paradox, you can't care about someone enough to make them realize you're good for them without getting to know them past the point where you can get being a third party outsider as it is. We all know that certain guys will never get past a certain point with all women, and that even guys who get past that certain point will never get any further regardless of how much they care about someone. You can't manufacture someone else's love for you. It's a cruel tease to put this kind of hope into guy's minds. So while I did enjoy this movie, the message made me a bit angry...it's A LIE MAN. That's why pickup artists never work on anyone except girls who want to get picked up by sleazy pickup guys. Otherwise, you have to have a hell of a lot of luck to get a mutually beneficial situation with a girl you actually like.

And the cynicism grows.

Up Next: 50 First Dates

And a link to past strips to boot.

I want to clear the air here: I am a coward.  I could provide any number of examples to prove this point, but I figure you'll take me at my word, since I'm not complimenting myself.  So, when it comes to movies with even an element of horror, I usually don't do to well.  The first R-rated movie I ever saw was Terminator 2, and I spent a fair portion of the movie watching through the slightest slit in my nearly-closed eyes.  So, last night, when I turned on The Thing, I fully expected to spend two hours in a state of utter terror.  The film's reputation as a horror classic is unchallengeable, and the setting (arctic research station) and premise (shapeshifting alien) promised everything necessary to reduce me to a quivering 13-year old kid.  Two hours later, against all odds, I felt just fine.  

RockNRolla is exactly what you'd expect from a Guy Ritchie movie, but it's not like that's a bad thing. Being that it's been six years since Snatch came out (we're going to ignore Revolver, for the good of the world), it's been long enough for me to watch his kinetic, frenzied mish-mash of convoluted plotlines and feel like it's moderately fresh and new again. True, he's borrowing from himself with the smash cuts, the bumbling criminal storylines, even direct stylistic shots (the shaky face-cam on Butler during the chase scene is a straight rip off of Lock Stock's "walk home from the poker game" sequence), but still, there's something comforting about his predictiable brand of unpredictability. Add to that some great performances by Idris Elba, Tom Wilkinson, Mark Strong and Gerard Butler, with a central action sequence that is a fucking riot, RockNRolla is like comfort food, a big plate of fish and chips drowned in vinegar. You probably shouldn't, but it tastes so good.

I'm not even going to attempt to describe the complex and convoluted plot, so I'll just say this. If you still love Snatch and Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, you'll love this movie. If it's been a while since you saw either of those two movies, you might want to take this for a spin. But it's exactly a Guy Ritchie movie...and like I said, that's not always a bad thing.

If PIXAR never existed, Bolt would be an instant classic...which is ironic, because if PIXAR never existed, Bolt would've never been made. When Disney announced that PIXAR's John Lasseter would be chief creative officer of its 3D animation dept., it was all but assured that Disney would throw its hat into the Dreamworks vs. PIXAR computer graphics ring, and with Lasseter's experience (Toy Story, A Bug's Life, Cars), you'd think everything would go smoothly. Not so fast, folks.... If you know the backstory, Lasseter took the reins from Chris Andrews (Lilo and Stitch) after he consistently refused to take notes from the studio and finished the movie shooting on an 18 month schedule. Critics and industry analysts were positive the movie would suffer, but Lasseter and Disney unbelievably crafted a movie that not only looks incredible, but is pretty damn great in its own right. The only thing keeping it from becoming a classic is the fact that it's just not as phenomenal as a PIXAR film....see what I meant?

The story opens with a puppy in a pet store getting bought by a young girl, who immediately puts a collar on him with the name "Bolt" dangling from the charm. Cut to 5 years later, and we're shown the girl and the dog on the run, being chased by men in robotic suits and helicopters as the girl, Penny, tries to rescue her father from the evil "Green eyed man." That's when the cameras cut, as we find out that Bolt is a superpowered dog on a TV show who's been raised his whole life as if the show were real. When the show's creators decide to have Penny captured, Bolt escapes from his self-contained home to search for Penny and ends up shipped across the country, where he meets an alleycat named Mittens and a hamster named Rhino, as they acclimate Bolt into life in the real world and try to get him back to Hollywood.

I'll say this much...this isn't a PIXAR movie, and I don't mean that in a bad way. The comedic beats, pacing, and action sequences in Bolt mimic the classic 2-D Disney films more than they do any PIXAR film, and you get the feeling that the creators never aspired to make Bolt into a deep, meaningful movie. It's a Disney movie through and through, and I was actually pretty surprised how much I've MISSED these kinds of films. The breezy pace and simplistic lessons of Bolt made for an immensely enjoyable watch, with a bit of nostalgia making this just an awesome watching experience. True, there's some recycled storylines, a bit of Toy Story (character who believes he's a hero, character who's abandoned), even a joke or two calling back to one of Lasseter's former films..and y'know what? I'll forgive it...the movie was all but assumed dead on the cutting room floor, and what you get is a movie that's fun as hell to watch that looks gorgeous (the non-photorealistic rendering is flat out incredible). And for the first time in forever, I was watching a movie that didn't insult my intelligence that I didn't need to pull apart...it was enough just to lay back and enjoy myself for 90 minutes. And to reiterate, I've missed that.

In the end, Bolt isn't so much about the individual elements, the meticulous aspects that make PIXAR films so incredible. Bolt is simpler, quicker, and more conventional, but it's never lazy. It's a nice return to form for Disney that doesn't require me waxing philosophically or overanalyzing anything. It's a great lil' movie with enough action, emotion, and technical savvy to make it well worth your time. I highly recommend it.

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

Before we start, I'd like to quote a friend of the blog, dj, in a recent conversation:

There's a scene in "Body of Lies" where Leo and his spy partner are checking out a suspected terrorist safehouse. As his buddy heads for the house, he gives Leo a sniper rifle and says: "If things go bad, you know what to do. I'm not getting my head cut off on YouTube." So Leo watches the whole thing unfold from afar through the scope.

What I'm trying to say here is that, in this situation, I'm kind of like Leo, and you're kind of like his spy partner, and these movies are sort of like Al Qaida. At some point, I may have to kill you for your own good.

Perhaps you are aware of Deadspin, the mothership of sports blogs.
Each year, it runs a contest in which the site's readers are asked to
vote for the Sports Human of the year. (That THAT male-normative
sports journalism!)

This year, the voting has come down to respected sports journalist/
hothead Buzz Bissinger versus Baby Mangino, a fat baby who looks like
a fatter college football coach. Your vote should be obvious. Make
your voice heard.

LD) The tempting choice is The Montage Song montage from Team America: World Police. The reality is that it was a recycled bit from an episode of South Park that was funnier than that movie in its entirety, so I can't choose it in good conscience. So, to the surprise of NOBODY, I'm taking the Heart On Fire training montage from Rocky IV. DRAGOOOOO!

JC) The comeback at the end of Teen Wolf where Michael J Fox hits a ton of
jump shot free-throws.

E) It's kind of a montage, so I'm calling it. Clerks 2 Dance sequence. I love that movie, i love that montage, and I love the muthafuckin' Jackson 5.

Warning: Jinx! ahead

Banks) The best thing about that Teen Wolf montage is the song, "Win in the End." I've been looking for the soundtrack for like 15 years because of that song alone. Apparently it was only released on CD in Germany.

Click here if you're at a total loss.

Terrence Howard: [playing some acoustic guitar] Scoobity bop wop wow...giiiiiirl, I'm gonna get up in them paaantieees. How can people not love this shit? My music be ill, and my album still got called one of the worst of the year. What else could possibly go wrong.


Jamie Foxx: Listen, motherfucker.

TH: Oh shit, it's Ray Charles, speakin' to me in ghost form!

JF: Mu...what? I'm Jamie Foxx, bitch.

TH: Yo, it's like Obi Wan Kenobi on some Star Wars shit, but with his eyes back! Tell me Ray, how'd you write such classic songs like "Golddigger"?

JF: Muthafucka, I'M JAMIE FOXX. I played Ray Charles in a movie.

TH: Ray, you so crazy man. Hey, tell me if you like this one. I'm calling this "Panties Gaza Strip," y'know, in honor of all that crazy ass shit going on in Pakistan. [starts playing guitar and closes eyes]...

JF: [grabs guitar away from Terrence] LISTEN TO ME, YOU DOPEY BITCH. I'm JAMIE. FOXX. And I'm callin' you out. You ain't got no talent, no skill, bitch I was doing this sensitive black actor/singer/musician shit before you, and now you just out here embarrassin' yourself and takin' shots at me. Muthafucka, I will go all Miami Vice on yo shit.

TH: Ray...look. I don't know why you gotta be so angry. Here, take these baby wipes and do yo business.

JF: Muthafucka, get these baby wipes outta my face.

TH: I don't like the way you talkin' up in my face, Ray. Don't you forget, I was the fuckin' War Machine in that Iron guy movie. You hear that man. WAR Machine.

JF: Yeah, what're you gonna do about it.

TH: I tell you what I'm goin to do about it.

JF: Oh yeah?....wait, why you takin' yo pants off?!

TH: You goin' feel the wrath now, motherfucker. The wrath of Lil' T!

Minister Louis Farrakhan: GENTLEMEN PLEASE!

TH: Ohhh shit...it's black Colonel Sanders!

JF: Minister Farrakhan!

MLF: This black singer/actor on black singer/actor crime has to stop. Hollywood is already conspiring to rid its waters of talented, young black men like yourselves. It's time to squash this beef.

TH: Yo, fuck beef. I want a three piece. With cole slaw. And a biscuit.

JF: Minister Farrakhan, I want to be on your side, but I don't see how I can let go of the shit that Terrence has been talkin' about me and my music. I'm serious, I take my craft seriously, I've been playing piano since I was 3 and this clown ass comes in acting like he's the king of this shit out of nowhere.

TH: Yo, Ray Charles, can you spot me? I left my wallet in my guitar case back at the studio.

JF: Muthafucka, shut your face.

TH: Ray, look man. Why don't I sing you a song as payment? You can even sample it like you did in that Golddigger song for the clubs. Here we go. Ahem...."Giiiiiiiiirl, gaza strip down to yo paaaaaaaantiiiiieeeees...I'm 'bout to drop the boooombs, but not booombs of war, but booombs of loooooove, cuz my looove is the booooomb"

JF: I...don't even know what to say to you right now.

TH: Yo, that shit is good, right? Yeaaaah, I know.

MLF: [shaking head] I thought this might be difficult, that's why I brought in a familiar third party to help mediate this conflict.

Robert Downey Jr. Heeeeeeeey cowboys and cowgirls, look at both of these fuckin' guys. Yeah, long time no see, T, Foxx. Yeah, so how's everyone doin'? Look, I just flew here on a jet from shooting Sherlock Holmes and boy oh boy, let me tell you, that Guy Ritchie, that guy is crazy. Just every day, constantly, talking about Madonna's pussy. I swear to God, do I care what Madonna's pussy smells like? I get it, it smells like the plague, but what does the plague even smell like? Those crazy brits, I don't even understand what they're talkin' about sometimes, like an elevator is a lift and an apartment is a flat and a pub is a gastropub? Whatever, right? I mean as long as you can get drunk, who really gives a shit, am I right? Do you hear what I'm sayin'? Ehh, whatever, so let's get this started. T, what's the problem?

MLF: Excuse me sir, but who are you?

RDJ: Who am I? I'm the motherfucking RDJ, man. Robert Downey Jr. Here. In the flesh, just like you asked for.

MLF: No, this isn't correct. I asked for Robert Downey Jr.

RDJ: Present.

MLF: The star of Tropic Thunder?

RDJ: Correctomundo.

MLF: I was told that he was black.

RDJ:..........ooooooh, I see what you're getting at. Hold on a sec.


Kirk Lazarus: What's up, you jive turkey bitches.

TH: Yo what's up Jerry Lee Lewis, man.

KL: So what seems to be the problem.

JF: Yo, this is some straight up offensive shit right here.

MLF: WHAT in god's name are you doing?

KL: Whatchoo doin', motherfucker?

MLF: I brought you here to solve a problem.

KL: Well that's what I do, I solve problems.

JF: Yo, tell this bitch to keep my name out his mouth.

TH: "Gaaaaaazaaaaaaaa, giiiiirl you soooo gaaaaazaaaa"

KL: [pulls out gun, shoots Terrence Howard in the face] BLAAAAM!

JF: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?

KL: I'm solvin' yo problem. Plus this motherfucker was always pulling his dick out on the set of Iron Man. Well, I'm off now.

[walks off into the sunset, as life leaves Terrence Howard's shimmering blue eyes]

THE END.............?

It takes a hell of a filmmaker to make a movie that's so gloriously triumphant while so deeply immersed in sympathy. You just feel so bad for Randy Robinson, a past-his-prime professional wrestler who is still hungering for the cheers of the crowd. And yet, you genuinely cheer for him. And often throughout Darren Aronofsky's movie, your cheers are duly rewarded in the most unlikely places.

Randy "The Ram" Robinson was on top of the world in the 80's, culminating in a Madison Square Garden match against The Ayatollah. And yet, Randy's still wrestling in gyms and small venues because he doesn't have anything else in his life. After a particularly brutal hardcore match, Randy suffers a heart attack, and receives bypass surgery. The doctor warns him to retire from wrestling, which Randy attempts to do. Yet a 20th anniversary rematch against his old rival, The Ayatollah, lures him back in for one last match, maybe at the cost of his own life.

The movie, as a whole, is a tale of redefining victory...I say "victory" specifically, because this isn't a movie about "success," which is so often our barometer for whether our life is going the way we want it or not. Success is consistent, maintained, a pattern, something that Randy's life lacks. Victories are ephemeral, soaring moments few and far between, and Randy's life is a string of recognizable victories to him: popularity, the cheers of the crowd, recognition, a match well fought. It's the classic story of an entertainer who can't let go, but in this case his craft happens to have the negative consequence of deteriorating his body. In old age, Randy's life is still about victory in the only forsm he recognizes, even though he can't perceive that these aren't victories, they're just echoes of his former life. The way the movie flows, it's set up in a way where we as the audience are cheering for Randy to accept the victories in his life away from wrestling: holding down a steady job, reconciling with his daughter, finding love. And yet, we're still dazzled by the limelight. Every wrestling match we're cheering for him to not only survive, but to win. Because we want him to get the cheers, the adoration, getting to raise his hand in victory at the end...even though we're aware that these ring hollow. The result is a beautiful mix of sympathy and elation, as the movie gives us moments to cheer for Randy when he manages to escape his life in tiny increments, yet still getting to indulge in the escapist aspects that professional wrestling is all about...we get to worship the spectacle.

The heart of this movie begins and ends with Mickey Rourke, who gives one of the most honest performances I've ever seen an actor give. Maybe it's the fact that Rourke himself is a washed up actor, far past his prime, and rather than acting in ways that's familiar to him (i.e. as a psychopath), he's returning to his roots as a deeply affecting, emotional actor. He plays Randy with a quiet aw-shucks humility that doesn't serve to conceal or hide the tortured, angry man that rests within. It exists simultaneously, with the narcissistic, deeply flawed man that burns through whenever life tosses Randy for a spin. He's easy to cheer for, and easy to be disappointed in, and all the while you're never quite sure if he's going to make it out of all of this with his life intact...at the end of the film, you're still not, and it's Rourke's emotional ballast that makes you walk away from the movie both worried yet guiltily glad. A part of you really does want him to go out with a bang, to not break down, to never stop performing.

Added to all of this is Aronofsky, who shoots the picture in a way starkly different from his previous movies (Pi, Requiem for a Dream, The Fountain). Where before Aronofsky was consumed with precision and symmetry, here he grabs handhelds and follows the actors from behind. The entire movie is about the walk in the tunnel, about to emerge to the crowds or retreating from a match as reality comes crashing down. Even the wrestling matches are shot in such close quarters, you not only see the pain the performers encounter, but hear the phrases used by the professionals as they plan the match. And yet, in moments where the movie needed to breathe, he pulls the camera back and lets Rourke and Wood walk down the Jersey boardwalk, shows an overhead shot from an empty parking lot. He's still got that precise eye on everything, he's just using it in a controlled chaos kind of way, as the movie involves a lot of camera movement, spinning around the actors, switching directions as the actors spin back the other way, and using tiny jump cuts in the quieter moments to keep the kinetic nature of the movie buzzing through the whole runtime.

As Randy approaches the final match, his old rival remarks to him "You're the face, I'm the heel." It's a simple line of wrestling lingo that marks what this movie is about. Randy is the good guy, the protagonist, the hero. And whoever he fights against is the bad guy. That much is clear when he's in front of the crowd, in the ring. We know who to boo against, and we know to cheer when his 80's glam rock starts to blare over the speakers. Yet when he steps away from that arena, we're still left with that emotion, that Randy is the face...and yet the heel disappears. Instead, the people who are difficult with him, who don't give him his way, who hurt him even when trying to help, they're not the heel. And neither is Randy. And in that sense, we realize the difficulty that exists in a man who lived in that world his life. There's no one to fight back against, and you can't find a victory to keep you going until the next one. In the end, The Wrestler gives us no answers. It simply shows one man's journey, and we're the crowd, hoping for the best, but all too aware that all we can do is cheer while the men on the other side of the metal gates have to fight the battles alone.

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

The Movie: Made of Honor

The Blurb: It's the story about Tom, a Lothario who has all these rules about women. Never call them within 24 hours, never sleep with the same woman two nights in a row, etc. And has a best friend, Hannah, who's smart enough to see that he's kind of a dick to not want to get involved with him with a ten foot pole. So they become bestest buds and hang out every Sunday, mostly to talk about how much of a dick Tom is to all these other women. When Hannah goes to Scotland for some reason, she comes back engaged to a hot Scot, which makes Tom realize he wants to be with her. Ironically, she wants him to be her Maid of Honor, and HILAAAAARITY ENSUES. In all honesty, I actually kinda liked this movie, because it's so totally shameless in the "this is how men are/this is how women are!" conventions, making Tom's dickishness at first be amusingly annoying, and then later being appropriate since everything else around him is so unbearable you kinda empathize with him. But damn it if the central romance doesn't work, mostly due to Michelle Monahan ['s legs], and an ending satisfying enough to make you realize that you just had a pretty good time on this utterly predictable journey. Yay for reliable predictability! Plus, I swear to god, Kadeem Hardison is one of the supporting stars. How do you beat that?

The Conventions: Guys playing basketball as an excuse to talk about emotions, fat chick on a diet to fit into her bridesmaid dress, "oops I thought you were someone else when I slipped into bed with you!"

Did I Cry? No. It was the dialogue, without such hokey dialogue, I might've actually been moved enough though. Credit where credit's due...

Current State of Mind: I have to say, as...not great as Made of Honor was, it's been the most effective movie in terms of making me think that love is something worth fighting for. There's something admirable and cheesily chivalrous in the thought of trying to win the girl's love that you should be with, and Dempsey, as smarmy as he ALWAYS looks, sells it here. The thought of being constantly around the girl you're in love with as she fawns all over another guy is a universally painful sentiment for all men, and I could feel pangs of empathy for the guy. So that when he wins her, it feels good. What can I say, I know how the guy feels.

So story time, I once dated someone in college, and we broke up cuz of the distance, and I still had feelings for her after she started dating someone else. For over a year, I worked to break up their relationship (my friends are well acquainted with this story). And in the end, I won. I got her back, and was sure that we were going to be together forever. Well, we weren't. And it was a hellish couple of years. And in the end I have nothing to show for it. But you know what? If I was in love with someone like I was in love with her, I'd do it again. I'd do it again in a second.

So I guess you could say that I'm doing fine? Or I'm eternally hopeless and this is only making it worse. Regardless, 3 down, 27 to go.

Up Next: 27 Dresses

Nice work, kid. I wonder how well he does when someone defends him.

In preping this review, I learned that the author, Eoin Colfer, has described his Artemis Fowl series as "Die Hard with faries."  A nice tagline, but it immediately confused the hell out of me about the three books I just read.  I mention the tagline not to knock the quality of the series but as an example of how an author sometimes understands least what is most compelling about their work for a reader.  Especially in this growing category of Kids' Books For Adults.

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

The Movie: Ghost Town

The Blurb: What happens when you think of a moderately interesting, but mostly recycled idea and build a movie from it backwards? You get Ghost Town, a movie about a dentist who hates people, who can also see dead people b/c he died in surgery for 7 seconds. As you can imagine, the ghosts have some unfinished business, and need Dr. Pincus to take care of it so they can finally go to heaven or wherever. One in particular needs him to break up his widow's engagement to a man she shouldn't be with. As you can imagine, he doesn't really want to do this, but through helping the ghosts, he learns that being a good person is actually worth his time, and maybe, just maybe, he might find love. Ricky Gervais and Greg Kinnear may be amusing in in their own right, but are largely wasted in characters that are weirdly grating, with Tea Leoni bringing up the rear in making this maybe the most lackluster cast ever. I mean, really, Gervais in a leading man role? He woos Leoni by making her laugh at bad jokes, to which she does a bit overenthusiastically and unconvincingly. Seriously, he's not that funny, lady. There's maybe 20 minutes of enjoyable film in this movie, but too bad it comes towards the end, with the first half hour being mostly unbearable. No two ways about it, this movie sucked.

The Conventions: Ghosts, Guy looking in the mirror changing hairstyle in preparation for date, girl who owns a big ass dog

Did I Cry?... No, though I did wretch at the particularly awful closing line: "It hurts when I smile"..."I can fix that." See, cuz he's a dentist. Barf.

Current State of Mind: So other than the fact that this movie well, sucked, I thought it was interesting to base a rom com mostly around death. This now makes two movies in a row that puts a love story in the field of loss, and using that to contrast the general positivity of finding love. So I guess this movie was trying to teach me that maybe love's not about those big successes, the soaring love, b/c in reality, Gervais doesn't really even "win" Leoni, he just kinda...in the end convinces her he's not a complete asshole. So I guess that's a win? Small victories?

Really, the only thing this movie taught me was that I'm probably more charming than Ricky Gervais's character. So y'know, I'm still feeling pretty good.

Up Next: Made of Honor

Today marks Apple's very last keynote presentation at the Macworld Expo. Sniffle. Expect utterly frivolous and totally desirable consumer electronics. We'll be back to cover it later.

So, I think we have some new readers reading our humble little blog. Which makes me realize that it's been a while since we did a little housekeeping around here.

Maybe you're confused what this site is supposed to be about. Well, in terms of regular content, there's a lot of movie reviews, which I generally am in charge of and try to keep mostly spoiler free (if there's spoilers, I'll place a warning). If music is more up your alley, LD does a lovely Daily Rec (semi) regularly. Every once in a while we post up a draft which we all participate in by email. And then every once in a while, SN posts something like this. Otherwise, we're all pretty big geeks and just like to talk about whatever we're geeking out about, whether that's books, comics, movies, tv, music, video games, politics, and/or competitive pog play. The blog's been up and running for a little over a year, and we're still getting the hang of it all so bear with us if at times we make bad typos or forget whether a stalactitie or a stalagmite hangs from the ceiling.

In any case, if you're new, feel free to email or leave us comments and let us know if there's anything you think we should be covering, or if we've grossly offended you, or even aroused you in some sick, sexual way. Otherwise thanks for stopping by!

Also, the pope.

[Rom Com Roundup is a project where I watch 30 romantic comedies I've never seen from now until valentine's day and document how it affects my outlook on love. (Link to the full list of movies)]

The Movie: Definitely, Maybe

The Blurb: It's a love mystery, as Ryan Reynolds tells his daughter the story of him and three women interwoven throughout his life as she tries to guess which one of these women eventually end up becoming her mother. Told entirely in flashback, with more "Get it? THESE WERE THE NINETIES" cultural references than you could shake a stick at, there's a real charm to this movie as the pace and tone remain so bubbly and lighthearted that you never feel bad for anyone, really. There's a certain appeal about a movie that's almost completely about failure at love, yet never approaching the dark, brooding pathetic nature of guys, as Reynolds is not only the victim of a divorce, but also two failed proposals. Ouch. In the end, the stars make it actually pretty enjoyable, as cheesy and innocent as the humor may be. I can't lie, I really liked it. Plus, his name is Will Hayes, which is basically Wesley Snipes's character's name from Major League.

The Conventions: a kid, flashbacks in the form of a story, "years go by with protagonist depressed from heartbreak" montage, the long distance girlfriend cheats on you with the person she always said she wouldn't, star crossed lovers, direct reference to bad pop music multiple times through movie

Did I cry? No...but I teared up a little when he mentions that the story has a happy ending, to which his daughter replies "HOW COULD IT, YOU AND MOM ARE GETTING A DIVORCE" and Reynolds replies "you're the happy ending" immediately followed by kid tears and a loving embrace. How could you not?

Current State of Mind: I'm feeling good. The movie did a nice job of hammering home a few points, most notably that love comes at its own pace, and that people you meet at one point in your life could always grow to be your true love later in life, and to not write off women that I thought would never happen. The main thing it teaches me is to be patient, which is probably my worst flaw, lack of patience. The story also shows that it just won't work when it's not right, even when there's a kid you love and the woman is someone you thought things would work out with. Also, number one lesson? Never buy a ring unless you're positively sure she'll say yes.

The worst part of this movie? Watching Will pine after the girls he loves, even after they hurt him. How utterly pathetic, but I'm pretty sure that was me not too long ago, maybe I'm still like that, who knows? I dunno. I'm probably a bit more callous to it all, which is something he probably can't afford having a kid, right?

But overall, I'm feeling good. This is a good start, I liked the movie, the kid wasn't too annoying, and so far, it's got me feeling like I have maintained my realistic, yet romanticized view of love in the world. So far, so good.

Up Next: Ghost Town

Sorry for the extended hiatus. Put this new OJ strip in your corncob pipe and smoke it. In case you've forgotten what's been going on or are here to check this out for the first time because you read about it in the New Yorker, I've posted the old strips underneath as well. Enjoy.

Going back to the start...And then...
Then this happened...

Followed by this, where OJ and his dog Ito compete in the two-on-two interspecies prison basketball league...
Oooh, this was a good one...

This was the Pope's favorite (ignore the typo)...
This one grossed $530 million domestically...

So I got a PS3 during the holidays. I started playing Metal Gear Solid 4. And then I stopped.

Metal Gear Solid 4 is an awesome game. The graphics are pretty much the best I've ever seen on a console. The story is engaging, twisting, and pretty interesting, with its focus on private military corporations and the "war economy." The gameplay is solid, with a mix of stealth and action, letting you choose whether you want to go full stealth, guns blazing, or mix it up between the two.

But there's one other thing going on. Cutscenes. A lot of cutscenes. A lot of LONG cutscenes. And when I say long, I mean 10-15 minutes apiece, with some going even longer (and I've read one of them runs upwards of 45 minutes).

Now, I don't really mind cutscenes per se in a game. They help further the plot, provide you a break from playing the game, and can really graphically show off what a console can do.

But I honestly couldn't deal with them in this game anymore. I have a limited amount of time to play video games, and when I sit down to play for an hour, I want to actually play a video game, not play a video game for 15-20 minutes and watch 45 minutes of cutscenes. I have back episodes of Chuck and Firefly to watch, and I would rather commit 45 minutes of viewing time to those endeavors than to watching a video game.

While I said this story is good, this story isn't good enough for me to continue to hold my attention through all of these cutscenes. Maybe it's because I haven't played a MGS game before now, and if I got all of the past references I would be way more engaged. But I didn't, and I'm not.

I really wanted to like this game, and I do, but I don't want to play this game anymore because I feel like all I do is watch cutscenes. And at this point, they just piss me off. And when I get pissed off at a video game (see: Assassin's Creed), I turn it off.

But if you don't think you'll mind them, by all means get this game. Everything else is pretty awesome.

This is Glory At Sea, a 26 minute short film by Benh Zeitlin that has garnered some major attention ever since it screened at SXSW. The story of a post-apocalyptic group of survivors who construct a boat with the lucky items that kept them alive in the flood to seek out their drowned loved ones is melded seamlessly with a post-Katrina theme that surprisingly, Zeitlin came to as an afterthought after already writing the story about a sea full of dead souls. It's visually stunning and gorgeously made, with some amazing sentiments about loss and death, as well as hope and faith and ultimately, loving those who are no longer with us. If you have some time you should check it out. It's indie filmmaking at its best.

It's a bit weird for me to review Che: Part One, being that it's only half of Steven Soderbergh's epic (both Part One and Part Two are being released simultaneously in the theaters). As such, it's an unfinished story that really shouldn't, but will be by many casual audience viewers, judged on its own merits. Soderbergh began working on this monstrous biopic shortly after Erin Brockovich was released in 2000, researching and rewriting the story multiple times, trying to give the Cuban revolutionary his just due while still keeping the story watchable enough to push to mainstream audiences. The first part focuses on Ernesto Che Guevara's first meeting with Fidel Castro in Mexico City, then just an Argentinian doctor, and ends with the 26th of July Movement taking the city of Santa Clara and heading to Havana. All of this is intercut with Che's trip to the United Nations in 1964, during which he spoke at length in interview sessions before giving his now famous address to the general assembly.

So, does this movie work? Does it make me want to see the second part? Well, yes, but with a caveat. No question that this movie is stunning in every conceivable way. Soderbergh shoots with such an effortlessly deft hand, you never feel like you're watching a Hollywood production. The look of the film is entirely organic, all juxtaposed against the gritty black and white footage of Che in New York preparing to address the UN, resulting in this weird dissonance that makes you believe that though the "present" is 1964, the past is truly the time you are in now. Benicio Del Toro's performance is excellent, displaying Che to be a soft spoken, fiercely passionate man who values loyalty and discipline over any kind of luxury or evil. This results in Che's ostracization from the other Cubans, which he already felt to a certain degree being that he was a born Argentinian who came from Mexico. You actually feel a strong sense of sympathy and compassion for him, as he quietly reads by himself while the rest of the soldiers drink and laugh loudly around the fire in the jungles of Cuba. As a result, the film begins with a strong first hour that pulls you in to the point where you feel like you're watching something incredibly historic.

That's the good. Here's the bad. The movie doesn't ramp up...at all. Which is fine, seeing as this is really only the first half of a 4 hour long epic. But it makes for an exhausting experience, watching the same slow, deliberate, and meticulous scenes of preparation and walking through the jungle. You expect something more to happen, and it never comes until they get to Santa Clara. Viscerally, you're so excited to see something happen, but to Soderbergh's credit and fault, he shows the battle of Santa Clara with such realistic precision that it fails to be exciting at all. It's workmanlike, showing the slow advances of the soldiers...it's just plain boring. As the movie ends, a part of you is sure the rest of the movie will become extraordinary, and a part of you is worried that perhaps the movie will continue to be like this for another two hours. You're left completely ambivalent on whether Soderbergh has completely sold you on trying out the second half.

In discussions I've had with Y, we're both pretty sure that this movie will bomb at the box office. Sure, it'll garner attention and get some decent numbers, but the fact that moviegoers will have to commit 2 trips to the theater (most notably, have to BUY two tickets to the movie) to finish this saga will simply turn people off. We both wish this movie was shown as one feature, with an intermission as Soderbergh was rumored to want in the first place. Instead, watching Part One without being able to see Part Two immediately after creates a weird feeling of both regret and relief. Regret that you can't finish it immediately, but relief that you can give yourself a break from the sprawling, focused, and meticulous job that Soderbergh and Del Toro pour into this movie. It is a feat to behold, and worth your attention. But, as life often goes, I'm scared that too many other things may get in the way before I get around to seeing the second movie. And by the time I actually DO see it, perhaps all its potential effect would've been lost.

But I suppose we'll have to hold out for Part Two to really judge this movie.

We're finally here. No surprises at all to anyone with whom I've talked music this year...

1: OKKERVIL RIVER - LOST COASTLINES

I am so consumed with love for this song that I don't really know what I can say. Of course, that has never stopped me from pontificating before, so let's see what I can pull together.

Okkervil River burst on to the scene with 2005's Black Sheep Boy, an album full of poetic lyrics, heartbreak, and obtuse symbolism inspired by a 1960's folk song. Alternately catchy, moving, and intellectually engaging, Black Sheep Boy was beloved by critics and fans for the many different levels on which it could be enjoyed.

After the success of Black Sheep Boy, anticipation steadily built for the band's next album, 2007's The Stage Names. The album showed that Okkervil River had undergone significant creative evolution in their two years outside the limelight. Lead singer and songwriter Will Sheff was now writing songs with leaner, more effective lyrics, eschewing his previous tendency to favor poetry over comprehensibility. This may sound like a negative, but led to a very positive result. While Black Sheep Boy had been marked by somewhat muddled themes, The Stage Names was brilliantly cohesive, with song after song of excellent, incisive metaphor considering every aspect of the creation and consumption of art. Musically, though the band never shied too far from a pop/rock base, they were often fairly muted and had a penchant for ballads. The Stage Names took a dive right into the deep end of the rock pool. Even the ballads were more traditionally rock-influenced and the production had shifted towards crystal clear. The album was rightfully hailed as a leap forward for Okkervil River and a potential modern masterpiece.

That leads us to 2008, during which the band released a companion disc to The Stage Names, titled The Stand Ins. Essentially an abandoned second disc to The Stage Names, The Stand Ins continues the thematic exploration of art begun on the previous album. The album, though given positive lip service by critics, was also unjustly dismissed as a lesser album due to the perception that these songs weren't good enough for The Stage Names. As is often the case, the reality of the situation is different than the perception. The reality of the situation is that The Stand-Ins is a match for its predecessor in nearly every respect. Paired together, these two albums are some of the most enjoyable music ever to be worthy of a senior thesis examining the import of the lyrics.

Additionally, The Stand Ins gave us "Lost Coastlines", which is probably Okkervil River's strongest single to date. Written as a goodbye to Jonathan Meiburg, longtime member of the band who was departing to focus on his side project, Shearwater, "Lost Coastlines" essentially closes the book on one era in Okkervil River's history. Will Sheff is left to ask himself what comes next with Meiburg gone, how to navigate the unmapped lost coastlines that they'll encounter without his presence.

Musically, I don't even know how to categorize the song. The percussion feels like northern soul, the guitars sound like traditional rock, with a dash of rockabilly thrown in, and the horns...well, I don't know where the horns come from. But, the essence of it is that it's incredibly catchy. You'll want to sing the "la la"s along with Sheff, to clap your hands with the tambourine, and maybe even to dance. It's the most joyous uncertain goodbye you'll ever hear. More importantly, it is unquestionably my favorite song of 2008. Have at it and enjoy!

Ladies and gentlemen, I am going to take a journey. A journey into the souls of men, a look in the mirror, a wake up call if you will. As you may already know, I am an ardent fan of cheesy, awful romantic comedies. And now, with studies showing that watching romantic comedies may in fact be harmful to your outlook on love and relationships, I wonder, what IS the harm in immersing yourself in the world of bad dialogue, cheesy pop soundtracks, and sappy, tear-filled denounments? Have I actually been eroding my belief in true love? My belief in romance? Have I, in fact, been destroying my chances at ever being happy?

I am going to conduct a scientific experiment in preparation for Valentine's Day, 2009. I will watch four (4) romantic comedies a week until that fateful day, which will culminate with me going to the theater and watching Marley and Me. After seeing every movie, I will write a short, blurb review and then talk about my general state of mind. How does this movie affect my belief in true love, in romance, in women, in relationships? By the end of this journey, will I be so sappy, romantic, lovestruck that happiness is an inevitability? Will my ideals be impossible to reach? Will I be so callous and cynical that I will never recover? We shall see, dear readers, we shall see.

For the record, here is the tentative list of rom coms that I have never seen (subject to availability, order may change). You have until the close of business Monday, to make suggestions in the comments. But if you do make a suggestion, you have to justify it and tell me which one you want to replace.


LIST OF MOVIES:
1. Definitely, Maybe
2. Ghost Town
3. Made of Honor
4. 27 Dresses
5. Hitch
6. 50 First Dates
7. Failure to Launch
8. 40 Days, 40 Nights
9. Good Luck Chuck
10. Kissing Jessica Stein
11. Something's Gotta Give
12. Maid in Manhattan
13. Along Came Polly
14. The Wedding Planner
15. Music and Lyrics
16. Must Love Dogs
17. Rumor Has It
18. Keeping the Faith
19. Four Weddings and a Funeral
20. Ever After
21. The Notebook*
22. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days*
23. Moonstruck
24. Sex and the City
25. Runaway Bride
26. Jane Austen Book Club*
27. Sabrina
28. No Reservations
29. Forces of Nature
30. Marley and Me or He's Just Not That Into You* (in the theater)

EDIT: * means added to original list

LET'S DO THIS, LOVE! YOU AND ME, SHOWDOWN!

If these movies screen around you, you should make an effort to see them. But for now, enjoy these two amazing trailers for Ballast and Waltz with Bashir, respectively.

Some may think that Sam Mendes tackling Richard Yates' novel, Revolutionary Road, was just a recycling of the same themes and ideas that he brought to life nearly a decade ago in American Beauty. And while both movies may share the belief that the picturesque suburban life only serves to hide and obscure the pain people feel behind the closed doors, Revolutionary Road is considerably more mature, more dense, more affecting than American Beauty aspired to be. Depending on your opinion of American Beauty (I, for the record, still do love that film), that may be a good thing or a bad thing. Where American Beauty had a sarcastic, cheeky irony about it, Revolutionary Road drips with stark seriousness, devoid of any winks or nudges. Where American Beauty wanted to play on our fantasies, Revolutionary Road wants to expose our reality, our unhappiness and self-loathing for our places in life.

The story follows Frank and April Wheeler, a young married couple who live in a comfortable suburban neighborhood on (surprise!) Revolutionary Road. April, a failed actress, and Frank, a salesman going nowhere, live an imperfect life as husband and wife, though they have all the monuments of a perfect, simple existence. The big house, the two kids, the car in the driveway, they live a life others can't understand would ever be insufficient, and yet it makes them hate each other out of the hatred they feel for themselves. The two agree to move to Paris and start over (as Frank once dreamed of doing), and through this ray of hope they discover their love for each other once again, only to see it fall apart as April gets unexpectedly pregnant and Frank receives a promotion at his job leading to more recognition and money making him rethink the plan to move away.

So just a word of caution for anyone seeing this movie. It's a hell of a downer. There is nary a laugh or respite from the horrid sadness that the story is immersed in. The cornerstones of the movie are intensely angry, uncomfortable fights between Frank and April that end in scenes of brooding darkness. Mendes refuses to pull the camera away from both characters, as we see not only the fight itself, but the after effects the fight has. And yet, there's nothing indulgent or excessive about these scenes, they serve as a reminder that these fights aren't the ramblings of two childish adults, that the blows they land cut deep, and scar badly. When held up against the mornings after, where Frank and April either make up or try their best to act like nothing's happened, it only increases the horrible silence, and serves to remind us of the utter cyclical futility that exists in these characters' lives the way they have set their quiet, mundane existences.

The mood of the movie is set against some of the most gorgeous framing I've ever seen in modern day movies. You could honestly pick a random spot in this movie, screengrab it, and put it in a frame and hang it on your wall, it's THAT beautiful. The visuals are supported by Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio's performances as the Wheelers, both intensely flawed and hurt individuals who love, even when they can't stand, each other. The complexity of their portrayals are shown both in the moments where they successfully convey emotion solely through facial expressions, or when they manage to make the full-out scream seem familiar and terrifying all at the same time. And yet, both infuse their characters with this strange resonance of love for each other, you never forget that these characters are flawed and yet you never lose sight of the fact that they love each other, hopelessly and at times, foolishly. These are two powerhouses standing toe to toe, and just destroying the scenery every time the movie calls for it.

All this being said, you'd think that I'd declare this movie to be one of the best of the year. And yet, there is something missing from it, perhaps it's just too crushingly bleak to really garner any true affection for it, but there does seem to be a charm or even a soul missing from Mendes' otherwise stunningly impressive filmmaking feat. Watching two straight hours of quiet, protracted, artful beauty loses some of its effectiveness by the end when the predictable climax occurs. And by that point, the artfulness of the movie does begin to creep towards overdoing it, at the expense of the emotion in the story. It never crosses the line, but you feel like it could if it had another twenty minutes to work with.

In the end, Revolutionary Road is a movie that's worth your time and attention, as nearly everything about it is amazing. But be prepared, it will not put a bounce in your step. If anything, it may make you realize that you don't have an answer for the sudden question staring you in the face: how do you escape your life when you don't know what you're escaping from? Revolutionary Road seems to say that without the answer to that question, you may end up destroying everything that was worth sticking around for.

At its core, Defiance has enough going for it that it could've been a captivating movie in a small, humble sort of way. With Liev Schreiber and Daniel Craig at the top of their games, the movie just needed a bit of inspiration to push it over the top. Unfortunately, no one was there to give it that push.

The story about a group of Russian Jews who chose to hide in the forest and fight back against the Nazi regime is couched in the dichotomy between two brothers, Tuvia (Craig) who believes the key to survival is maintaining their humanity amidst the pain, and Zus (Schreiber) , who follows a blood for blood mantra in his pursuit for vengeance and survival. While Craig builds a village in the forest with those Zus believes are too weak and inconsequential to fight, Zus fights alongside independent Russian brigades bringing the fight directly to the Nazis. From there, as you can guess, the good and bad of both sides are shown, as both stories converge into one, as both men begin to realize that neither side is completely right (WHAT A TWIST!).

To say this movie is obvious would be an understatement. There isn't a single memorable shot in this movie, full of violins swelling as Craig and Schreiber stare off into the distance or clumsily shot gunfights where the emotional impact comes from the fact that (gasp) someone kills a man in cold blood. The discussion on the value of life versus the necessity of death is an interesting one that's completely wasted in a black and white portrayal of the subject. We get it, neither side is right, and that in times of such desperate measures, tough decisions must be made. The only problem is, we've seen it done in a WWII context at least...well, a billion times, and done way better than this. What makes it even more frustrating is that Craig and Schreiber are so amazingly watchable in their roles, the movie actually cobbles together a couple of scenes that hook you, giving you a glimpse of what this movie could've been if someone would've taken the time to inject some subtlety into the story. But director Ed Zwick's shown in his previous movies (Blood Diamond, The Last Samurai) that he's capable of making a perfectly mediocre movie, even when given an interesting subject matter. The pacing badly sags, the characters take bizarre emotional turns, and and the conflicts are set up so haphazardly, that they leave no emotional impact whatsoever.

If you want to see Craig and Schreiber put on some great performances in a movie that doesn't deserve it, by all means rent Defiance on a lazy night. Otherwise, I'd venture to say that it's not worth your time.

Ok, so it's a bit late, but I was trying my best to catch up with movies. So bite me. Here it is, the rundown of the year in movies 2008:

[ed note: I have not yet seen: The Wrestler, Revolutionary Road, The Reader, Doubt, Rachel Getting Married, Gomorra, The Fall, Ballast....hopefully will see all these soon. Fwiw, I'm positive The Wrestler will make my top ten, but it wasn't released in DC until after the new year.]

My Top Ten Movies

1. Wall-E
What else needs to be said about this? The movie about a little robot who would dare to love is both simplistic in its message, and beautifully epic in its scope. PIXAR is unquestionably at the top of their game.

2. Let the Right One In
The Swedish vampire flick that had everyone buzzing actually delivered on its hype, with one of the most deserved endings I've seen in recent memory. It's both unsettling and comfortable, with Alfredson's deliberate and delicate style playing off the two child leads to great effect.

3. Slumdog Millionaire
Who would've thought a movie about Who Wants to Be a Millionaire could be so much fun? But it's the movie's heart that carries the story through to the end, and teaches us that emotionally mature movies can be not only uplifting but also innovative. Boyle's best work yet.

4. Forgetting Sarah Marshall
In a year of summer blockbusters and oscar fodder, it's a credit to Segel's screenplay that this movie remains so memorable having been released so early in the year. Hilarious, touching, and just the right amount of absurdity make this my favorite Apatow vehicle, and the best comedy released this year.

5. Frost/Nixon
Ron Howard's pretty dependable for making historic movies, but it's Sheen and Langella's performances that make this movie a joy to watch multiple times. The story of an underdog never gets old, this movie is proof.

6. The Dark Knight
I know I ranked Iron Man higher in my summer list, but TDK gets the nod here because on multiple views, it definitely beats out Iron Man in terms of watchability. Do I really need to say anything else about this movie? Seriously.

7. Iron Man
The most fun comic book movie we've ever seen, with a powerhouse performance by Downey as playboy Tony Stark, it clicked on all cylinders and showed us what a summer movie should be.

8. My Winnipeg
Guy Maddin's flick about his personal life and the history of his city was a hundred times more effective than Synecdoche could ever hope to be. Darkly funny, wry, and over the top, it's a movie that simply has to be seen, no review will ever do it justice.

9. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
A flawed, grand spectacle of a movie, it's the prime example of Fincher at his best and worst. It's a credit to this movie that I still love it as much as I do with all the things I find objectively wrong about it, but for film buffs, this movie is a joy to simply behold.

10. Tropic Thunder
Why this movie failed to garner more attention is beyond me. It's a movie that's fun and self deprecating, with big action setpieces and stars getting to riff like crazy on their caricature-like personas. One of the best theatergoing experiences I've had in a long time.

Honorable Mentions:



Burn After Reading
Hey, remember how everyone was saying this movie was a disappointment? I'm not sure they were watching the same flick as me. I'm hard pressed to understand why this movie was being held up against The Big Lebowski and No Country for Old Men, sure it shared the same message of "going after the money" and the consequences that result, but honestly it exists on its own plane and deserves separate recognition. This movie is dark as hell, hilarious, absurd, and unsettling in the best of ways. Everyone's performance is on spot, and the ending is as maddening as you could hope a caper movie like this could be. Ignore the negative press, this movie is one of my favorite Cohen movies, period.

The Wackness
It's an ode to early 90's hip hop and that listless, slacker feeling that everyone had growing up during that time. A moviethat shows you're never really sure how life's supposed to be no matter how old or successful you may be, seen through the eyes of two romantics who use their cynicism and apathy as a shield against the harshness of reality. A beautiful movie of growing up and figuring shit out, and how to sell weed from an ice cream cart.

Awards:



Most Disappointing Movie:
Hellboy II - As a fan of Mignola's comic, I'm getting more and more frustrated with the HB movie franchise. Apparently, Del Toro's idea of a fight is to have Hellboy get beaten up while the rest of the BPRD stands around fearing for their lives. I can appreciate the stunning visuals and great action scenes, but the movie series continues to be a big disappointment in my eyes.

Most Overrated Movie:
Man On Wire - Man, I may catch hell for this, but I honestly didn't see the big deal with this movie. Don't get me wrong, it was a great movie, but people have been raving about it being one of the best of the year, and the GREATEST DOCUMENTARY OF ALL TIME. I don't see it. I'm sorry. I apologize.

Biggest Surprise:
Lakeview Terrace - Not to say this movie is GREAT, but the fact that I was actually really entertained while watching it is a credit to Labute's ability to write interpersonal drama so well. The trailers for this movie were abysmal, I can't imagine anyone wanting to see this movie based on those. But you should give it a chance, there's a lot in here to enjoy, including one of Sam Jackson's best performances in a while.

Most Confusing Movie:
Synecdoche, New York - Don't let anyone tell you this movie has any semblance of a solution. It's completely incomprehensible in every possible fashion. In fact, the two guys I saw this movie with (Banks and dj), we still have no idea if we even liked this movie.

Movie Most Likely to Make Me and One Other Friend in our Group Puke in the Theater Bathroom:
Cloverfield - This is a true story. I was piss drunk, and stuck it out until I saw the monster (about half an hour in), and then ran to the bathroom to puke my guts out and then stumbled home without returning to the theater. I have still never seen the whole movie to this day. Fuck you shaky cam!

Best Use of an Eyepatch:
Valkyrie - Because we have to kill Hitler. WE HAVE TO!!!!!!

Best Use of Plants as Villains Movie:
The Happening - yeah, I just spoiled it for you.

Worst Movie of the Year:
(Tie) The Love Guru, Seven Pounds - which is sadder, that The Love Guru even exists, or that Seven Pounds can rival it in its suckiness.

Best Use of Knowledge As Treasure:
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull - It's funny cuz it's true.

[ed note: we have a friend who's a syndicated advice columnist in over TWO (2) papers across the nation. He's agreed to have a guest stint on our blog by dispensing semi-regular advice to readers' questions that he receives on a daily basis! If you have a question for Banks, email us at geek.prospectus@gmail.com, and he'll solve your problems! Without further ado, here is our inaugural edition of Ask Banks!]

I was born to be a guest star.

That’s not only the title of Bruce McGill’s upcoming memoir; it’s an apt mantra for my own life. When I was four years old I had a short but memorable walk-on role in the local department store’s wedding season fashion show, playing a four year old kid in a white tuxedo. When I was ten I had a short but memorable walk-on role in the school’s reimagining of Dickens’ classic “Christmas Carol” story, playing a ten year old kid reading the story aloud. When I was fourteen I had a slightly longer but no less memorable walk-on role in my sister’s wedding, playing a fourteen year old kid serving as a groomsman who later got drunk and danced the Texas Two Step to the “Electric Slide” song. Then when I was twenty I began playing maybe my favorite role as a guest star so far: Uncle. I have two nieces and four nephews, and every time I pop in the door, I get the small, elfin chorus version of that “Married With Children” Al Bundy door opening applause. It’s a beautiful thing. Right now I’m still happy go-lucky Uncle Ned, and they have yet to discover my crippling personal short-comings and taste for the sauce. Soon enough they’ll learn. But for now, believe it or not I’m still seen as something of a sage in their eyes. (I know, I don’t get it either.) They ask me questions about the world around them when they get curious. All six of them are under ten years old; I get asked a lot of questions. And I answer, since far be it for me to deprive young, unshaped minds of the chiseling of life lessons I’ve learned.

Two roads have thus converged to lead me to writing this column. By one I’ve traveled the country to many a guest starring gig. By the other I’ve set up roadside stands and given my share of free advice. I have now reached that same destination sought by the weary nomads of the truth-seeking audience, the internet advice column. Our first batch of questions have already arrived, ripe with the stench of the unknown. Without further adieu, let’s get to them.

Dear Banks,

What is Homeland Security doing about the impending distribution of undeclared and unknown items to terrorists living in the United States by Santa Claus? Presumably terrorists and other malcontents have asked Santa for any number of dangerous weapons and my understanding from my friends at ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) that St. Nick has not been required to declare any of his inventory upon entry to the U.S.

- “Sheikh Ahmad Al-Souk” in Woebegone, MN

Dear “Sheikh,”

Long gone are the days when young girls and boys filled their Christmas lists to the brim with desperate pleas for Lincoln Logs and anatomically incorrect dolls. Now, Santa and his minions elves must contend with letters featuring phrases like “max firepower” and “no-spill heat resistant liquid canisters.” Complicating matters is the fact that North Pole by-laws set forth that “naughty” and “nice” are culturally-specific parameters, so that as long as the little tots are adhering to their localized, socially-prescribed norms, they get a checkmark to the positive. In short, if blowing shit up real good gets you a pat on the back from your masked handlers, Santa will call that good for goodness’ sake. Fortunately for peace lovers the world over, Santa’s workshop can’t build complex machines. Guns and explosives have chemicals, moving parts. It doesn’t work that way. But they can form solid metal shapes. Which means that jihadists, both foreign and domestic, might get knives and stabbing weapons in their stockings, but not neighborhood-flattening nuclear devices. I hope this helps you sleep at night, while visions of sugar plums dance in your head.

Dear Banks,

Why doesn't Up-Up-Down-Down-Left-Right-Left-Right-B-A-Start work in my love life?

- “Single Player” in New Jersey

Dear “Single,”

The first step is to make sure you’re playing a two-player game. Otherwise you’re just playing with yourself, and when you’re playing the game of love, beating it alone just isn’t that satisfying. You need someone who will push the buttons for you. As for the code, remember that timing is crucial. You can’t push the buttons once you’re already in the bedroom. You have to enter it before the game begins, perhaps while walking up to your date’s apartment building. Just make sure that she doesn’t see you do it. If it’s a cold-weather date, this won’t pose a problem as you can hide the controller away in one of the many pockets that’s so popular with kids these days. If, however, your date occurs on a small island nation, you have to take measures to hide the controller in plain sight. Consider gluing it to your belt buckle, and if she asks about it you can always say, “Girl, I’m gonna use this to hop and bop into your warp zone.” (Note: A line about descending down into her pipe is equally emphatic but less advised.) You might also tape your cell phone and controller together, and explain to your date that all the Japanese kids are using them and you only got one because you have a friend in the export business. Better yet, tell her you’re in the exporting business. Your product is hugs and kisses. Girls eat up that kind of talk, and you don’t come out looking like the social mongoloid you are.

Dear Banks,

Some people call tomatoes a vegetable, and some call it a fruit. Is there any good indicator to tell when it's appropriate to call it one or the other? And why the confusion?

- “Vine-curious” in Key West, FL

Dear “Curious,”

It is difficult to tell one kind of tomato from another because they look exactly the same on the outside. But the distinction is important because you don’t want to let the wrong kind of tomato in your house, where it might sully the purity of the other produce. To that end, you must examine the tomatoes in their own habitat to be sure which type you are getting. Is the vine expertly manicured? Is there an overabundance of bamboo in the vine’s immediate vicinity? Does the tomato own more than four candles? Does it have a dog? If so, what kind of dog is it? Does it weigh more or less than a stick of butter? Does the tomato’s shower have a regular curtain or a floor-to-ceiling glass door? Does it own beer mugs or martini glasses? These are important questions which must be asked to inform a proper investigation of your tomatoes. Even if you make the wrong choice, don’t worry. Just keep them in the food closet and let them stew.

Dear Banks,

Whatever happened to Jim Breuer?

- “JeffRichardsFanClub.net” from CA

Dear “Jeff,”

You may be interested to learn that Mr. Breuer is currently attached to a remake of the classic comedy “Police Academy,” which will star many former “Saturday Night Live” cast members, including Gary Kroeger as Mahoney, Finesse Mitchell as Hightower, Joe Piscopo as Tackleberry, Yvonne Hudson as Hooks, Morwenna Banks (no relation) as Callahan, and Tim Kazurinsky as Sweetchuck. In one of the few color blind casting choices, Mr. Breuer is set to play Jones, the literally motor-mouthed officer once played by cunning linguist Michael Winslow. According to my sources, however [spoiler alert], the Jones character in the revamp will be killed off in the opening action sequence, after he walks into a bar and annoys the living shit out of one of the townies with his incessant goat warbling and neverending high pitched mugging. The other bar patrons then spend the next several hours of the film toasting their hero. Which is to say, the townie.

Dear Banks,

I'm tempted to hate the player, but I'm not sure that's the direction to channel my passions. What should I do?

- “Player Hater” in Des Moines

Dear “Hater,”

Indeed, your instinct to question the direction of your hatred may be more right than you know. Ask yourself, what exactly is it that I hate? Is it the player? Of course not. The player’s success is most often the byproduct of his own hard work, dedication, and natural ability. It’s not the player’s fault that someone else is willing to write a check to him that lets him afford a ridiculously overpriced Bentley. So, if not the player, to whom (or what) should you direct your feelings of contempt? Consider the following: When you point a finger at someone else, there are three fingers pointing back at you. That’s right. Maybe instead of lying on your couch, waiting for your shot at primetime, you should get your fat ass up and learn more about your gym than the fact that it’s “next door to Five Guys.” Work up a sweat. Start slow, maybe a few lay-ups. After you make at least one hundred, move back a few feet and try to build up your jump shot. After several months of working through this routine, perhaps you’ll be ready to try out for the local community college team. Once you’re done, tell your father to go fuck himself for trying to live vicariously through you. Tell him you’re sorry you’re more interested in medieval literature than putting a ball through an iron hoop, and that unlike him, your glory days are yet to come. Tell him the pressure he put on you to succeed was patently unfair, and that because of your internal conflict caused by his looming presence, you now have trouble performing sexually. He may not beg for forgiveness—in fact, he may continue hurling emasculating insults at you—but sooner or later he will realize that you are not in fact his own younger self in miniature. If that doesn’t work, just hate him instead.

--Banks

OJ competes in the prison interspecies 2-on-2 basketball league: