I just realized that I'm a gusher. It's true, all of my reviews thus far are gushers. Sad, I will never be as critical of films as I am of strangers.
So, more on the Sun=Hell story. So here's how I see it. The main character is a scientist, a man of reason, who has never even thought about religion as a viable concept. So, it's a few years from now, everyone has gone green, there is no more reason for global warming, but it's gettting worse and worse. So they start to say, "Huh, maybe it's not the gasses, maybe it's the sun." They start doing all sorts of analyses of the sun and then they listen to it. (I have no idea about any of the science here, but then, neither do you, most likely. And Miss Teen South Carolina would eat it up, so I feel safe with this concept.) They listen to the sun and they hear millions of people's voices, screaming. (Which would be an incredibly scary moment in the movie I am imagining. Main scientist played by... Steve Coogan? Someone like that.)
So they start to do all sorts of tests on the sound. And we're saying the sound takes... a long time, a matter of months or a year or something, to get back to Earth, so there is all this speculation and fear and no one knows whats going on, but they start to get this picture of the sun as having bodies on it, and when the clearer, more pinpoint sound comes back, it's individual voices and they are screaming about being tortured. They are cursing the beings that are torturing them and they are saying that they would have lived better lives if they'd only known, things like that. It's intense and it's kind of hard to deny that something strangely like hell is going on.
But I have no idea how it ends. I like little things about the idea, like that it isn't the Industrial Revolution that kick-started the warming, it was Darwin's Theory of Evolution. That there are periods of cooling, and they coincide with times that there are revivals of spiritual belief on the Earth. Things like that, you could play with them, it'd be fun.
Thoughts?
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
The Newest news
So, apparently I am being kicked out of Bethesda and am not allowed to go to my next command. At the end of September, last working day Friday the 28th, I will be expelled from the frosty bosom of NNMC Bethesda and left for a time on the rocky shores of real life. I am not supposed to be in Camp Lejeune until October 16th, and it has been strongly suggested that I not go early, so I am going to have to take ANOTHER several days of leave. I am not too happy about it, but I can deal. I have a lot of leave saved up, so I guess it's not that bad. But still, I was hoping to just go and do the FMSS training and then have a full month. Instead I will have 2 weeks before hand, which I will spend working at the restaurant and then going to visit the wife's side of the family in Long Island, and then 2 weeks after, a week and a bit in Cleveland and a little while in Florida. Both times should be fun, but I am really looking forward to Christmas with the family, and possibly, BOXING DAY!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Sunshine
I know, I'm one of the last ones in America to see/comment on this, but I really liked it. On the other hand, it should be noted, I liked Event Horizon, too. (Actually, the only person I know who liked Event Horizon more than I did was my friend Adam Peterson, who liked it to a frightening degree. We rented it on a Sunday night and he watched it 19 times before it had to go back on Tuesday. Needless to say, I heard a LOT about it that week. Which reminds me of a Steven Wright joke about taking a two month road-trip across the US with only one tape in the car. He couldn't remember what tape it was.)At any rate, Good movie. I thought that the choices made were good ones. I liked the pressure build-up. I thought that the subliminal things were cool, but I have a soft-spot for subliminals. They get me somewhere in my unconscious... Rimshot!
Anyways, I thought that the decision not to show Earth to the end was good. It is nowhere near as good as Alex Garland's book The Beach, which everyone on Earth should read before the sun DOES burn out. But the whole thing made me think that there'd be a good story idea in that the sun is actually Hell and that the reason it is burning so much hotter/global warming and whatnot, is that more people are going there now that there is no morality. Maybe Kirk Cameron and company could do it as a Left Behind spin-off kind of thing?
As alway, really like Danny Boyle's choices and his visuals are nothing less than stunning. The first shot of the spaceship should be taken as a primer for all future sci-fi directors, just like Lucas's was in the first shot of Star Wars. Same idea, fantastic execution.
And the cast was good as well, I love Jane Fonda's son, who's name is something like Garrity, Jay Garrity? I can't remember and I can't be bothered to look it up. Someone else look it up and tell me if I'm wrong. All around, really solid, really scary in a couple parts. I'd have preferred if the whacked out spiritual craziness had been more... well, more whacked out, but like I said, I liked Event Horizon.
(Though tell me that if the guy in the observation room had had wings, scary-@ss, demon wings, it wouldn't have made you sqeal with terrified delight.)
Check it out, if I am not the last American to have done so.
Monday, August 27, 2007
I couldn't get on all day...
... but I have to tell you, The Host. EXCELLENT. Seriously. Korean Monster movie, anti-American intervention sbu-text, whatever. The most amazing thing is the monster. This thing is a two-hour indictment of the entire prequel trilogy. If these Koreans could pull this off on an eighth of the budget Lucas had and make it so... wow, just wow. Well, George ought to just hand in his notice. He's out, ILM is out. They are just drooling old codgers. This thing is tits.
Margaret and I watched this last night on our little TV and STILL we couldn't take our eyes off it. Every moment when this thing is on-screen is it mesmerizing. Those things that Obi-Wan rode in the 3rd movie, garbage. Jar-jar, garbage. Name something from those lame movies, then watch this and see how it should be done. Seriously, a GREAT one.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Vacation and all...
As many, many of you were very kind to point out, I haven't written in a while. I was away and I'm having my laptop fixed so I've not had a whole lot of opportunity. But now, home again, I write.
Let's see, I worked last weekend and it was pretty much no great shakes. But the wife and I DID go to see her sister Katie and the ever-popular brother-in-law Pat. We always look forward to seeing them and it was a swell as ever. Katie and Pat, henceforth KP, made us a fantastic dinner of corn, shish kabob, marinated chicken, brochettes, all sorts of swell stuff. I ate till I was a little embarrassed with myself. I drank an awful lot, too. I've been on a, "Gimme a little bit of everything..." kick in my drinking, wine, margaritas and beer on the night in question. I got a little looped, but the wife got a bit more. By morning she was in pain and we had a slow start getting back. We played Trivial Pursuit, where KP's frightening knowledge, and the fact that I continually made guesses without consulting the wife, or indeed, thinking, led directly to a loss. But then we played Pictionary and it was a close thing, would the game end before KP's marriage? So we stopped playing that and went to sleep.
I got my orders that day, too. I'm leaving the whole lot of you, in October. I'll be gone for a couple of months, then swing round to grab up my long-suffering, ever-lovin' wife and be on our way to Japan. With any luck I'll get through the Marine training in the minimum 7 weeks and be able to take the month of leave that they say I can get. That way M and I will be able to pop in on a few of our faithful readers, to say goodbye before our long sojourn in the mysterious East.
Lots and lots of nothing much then over that weekend, like I said, work. Then on Sunday we packed up and left for Rehoboth Beach, DE. Now, I've never been to the Atlantic during the beach season, but it's something to be seen. We drove in a constant stream of traffic, despite a cold blatter of rain, the entire way. The traffic was like a queue at an amusement park, but for 2.5 hours. Once I realized that it would never clear up, I started to get apprehensive. It seemed that we would be spending the week of our vacation in the rain, with 2 million strangers that all wanted to be standing where we were standing. Not the most comfortable thought. But, since it DID manage to rain almost all weekend, it was kind of nice. There weren't a lot of people at the beach, though where they were is a bit mysterious. M and I had a fantastic time, though. Sunday evening we spent waiting for our hotel room to open up. Then we went down to the beach, got far more wet than we'd planned and ran back to the hotel. Dinner, sleep, a 100% successful day.
More later... I'm back, I promise.
Let's see, I worked last weekend and it was pretty much no great shakes. But the wife and I DID go to see her sister Katie and the ever-popular brother-in-law Pat. We always look forward to seeing them and it was a swell as ever. Katie and Pat, henceforth KP, made us a fantastic dinner of corn, shish kabob, marinated chicken, brochettes, all sorts of swell stuff. I ate till I was a little embarrassed with myself. I drank an awful lot, too. I've been on a, "Gimme a little bit of everything..." kick in my drinking, wine, margaritas and beer on the night in question. I got a little looped, but the wife got a bit more. By morning she was in pain and we had a slow start getting back. We played Trivial Pursuit, where KP's frightening knowledge, and the fact that I continually made guesses without consulting the wife, or indeed, thinking, led directly to a loss. But then we played Pictionary and it was a close thing, would the game end before KP's marriage? So we stopped playing that and went to sleep.
I got my orders that day, too. I'm leaving the whole lot of you, in October. I'll be gone for a couple of months, then swing round to grab up my long-suffering, ever-lovin' wife and be on our way to Japan. With any luck I'll get through the Marine training in the minimum 7 weeks and be able to take the month of leave that they say I can get. That way M and I will be able to pop in on a few of our faithful readers, to say goodbye before our long sojourn in the mysterious East.
Lots and lots of nothing much then over that weekend, like I said, work. Then on Sunday we packed up and left for Rehoboth Beach, DE. Now, I've never been to the Atlantic during the beach season, but it's something to be seen. We drove in a constant stream of traffic, despite a cold blatter of rain, the entire way. The traffic was like a queue at an amusement park, but for 2.5 hours. Once I realized that it would never clear up, I started to get apprehensive. It seemed that we would be spending the week of our vacation in the rain, with 2 million strangers that all wanted to be standing where we were standing. Not the most comfortable thought. But, since it DID manage to rain almost all weekend, it was kind of nice. There weren't a lot of people at the beach, though where they were is a bit mysterious. M and I had a fantastic time, though. Sunday evening we spent waiting for our hotel room to open up. Then we went down to the beach, got far more wet than we'd planned and ran back to the hotel. Dinner, sleep, a 100% successful day.
More later... I'm back, I promise.
Monday, August 13, 2007
All Thirteen
So, I enjoyed both iterations of Ocean Eleven. Not the greatest, but both Sinatra and Clooney had their moments. Sinatra's infrared footprints kicked ass, Clooney's trick with the van and the porno pamphlets made me laugh. But I thought they were only ok. Each one, good, not the greatest. Then came the brilliant, off the charts insanity of Steven Soderbergh's manic, interpretive dance climaxing Ocean's Twelve. It was intensely, perfectly, gorgeously wonderful. Absolutely genius.
But tonight I watched Ocean's Thirteen and I am hereby flummoxed, totally, unutterably flummoxed about the critical reception of this film. Super Dave was in it! Does anyone comprehend the joy of that?
I mean, ok, after 11 and 12, we know that these guy are basically super heroes, but set that aside and just love every second of this. (Though don't you wish that this was Ocean's 13 in the sense that there was an original film called Danny Ocean. It's the story of this small-timer who pulls a pretty good job, but maybe things don't work out. He makes some contacts and starts to learn his way around all these terms and phrases, pulling it all off at the last second by using something we heard about in the first 10 minutes. Then, in the sequel, Ocean's II, Rusty's Revenge, he meets Rusty and they are rivals at the beginning, but they come around as the caper starts to get tough. This would have been back a ways, so it could end with a really 70's high-note of them jumping in the air and high-fiving. And then through the whole gang, with some members who maybe don't make it, or we learn more about the relationship between Linus' Mom and Dad. I mean, obviously no one pulls a crime in this world unless there is a woman who needs to be picked up, so there MUST be a good story there.)
From the ridiculous, "After all the critical bitch-fits, we'll never get Julia Roberts back." one-liner, "It's not their fight." we're off and running into a plot as absurd and hilarious as anything we've ever seen. Honest to God, where do they get these scripts? Did they rape Frank Sinatra's dream closet or something? These scripts do NOT come out of Hollywood. They come out of some insane crime subcontinent where thieves have names for anything that they do. I mean, maybe I've just hung out with the wrong thieves, but the robbery I'M aware of is just called robbery. And for those of you who know me, you know that's true. But these guys, they have names for everything, clever names, names that reference funny things. They are like the drill-instructors of the criminal world.
And Oprah jokes? I mean, A.) Who does Oprah jokes besides me? And David Paymer was in it? I mean, I know I'm gushing, but it's just awesome. And I love that they show the slot machines at the airport, and 11 million, too great. The score is good, not Ocean's Twelve good, but I owe Vern for pointing that out first. (Damn, that guy gets EVERYWHERE first.)
It's not as straight-up wonderful as Ocean's Twelve, but I loved it. Soderbergh can basically do no wrong. (I even loved Full Frontal, and that took some doing. But he owned me after Schizopolis, I'll always love him for that one, and he never does me wrong these days. The Good German was a little rough though. I understood the plan, but it was NOT realized.)
And when Andy Garcia tells them they have to get the diamonds... Let me stop. Run, don't walk, to bi**orrent and d@wnl@ad this sucker. It is worth it, every step.
But tonight I watched Ocean's Thirteen and I am hereby flummoxed, totally, unutterably flummoxed about the critical reception of this film. Super Dave was in it! Does anyone comprehend the joy of that?
I mean, ok, after 11 and 12, we know that these guy are basically super heroes, but set that aside and just love every second of this. (Though don't you wish that this was Ocean's 13 in the sense that there was an original film called Danny Ocean. It's the story of this small-timer who pulls a pretty good job, but maybe things don't work out. He makes some contacts and starts to learn his way around all these terms and phrases, pulling it all off at the last second by using something we heard about in the first 10 minutes. Then, in the sequel, Ocean's II, Rusty's Revenge, he meets Rusty and they are rivals at the beginning, but they come around as the caper starts to get tough. This would have been back a ways, so it could end with a really 70's high-note of them jumping in the air and high-fiving. And then through the whole gang, with some members who maybe don't make it, or we learn more about the relationship between Linus' Mom and Dad. I mean, obviously no one pulls a crime in this world unless there is a woman who needs to be picked up, so there MUST be a good story there.)
From the ridiculous, "After all the critical bitch-fits, we'll never get Julia Roberts back." one-liner, "It's not their fight." we're off and running into a plot as absurd and hilarious as anything we've ever seen. Honest to God, where do they get these scripts? Did they rape Frank Sinatra's dream closet or something? These scripts do NOT come out of Hollywood. They come out of some insane crime subcontinent where thieves have names for anything that they do. I mean, maybe I've just hung out with the wrong thieves, but the robbery I'M aware of is just called robbery. And for those of you who know me, you know that's true. But these guys, they have names for everything, clever names, names that reference funny things. They are like the drill-instructors of the criminal world.
And Oprah jokes? I mean, A.) Who does Oprah jokes besides me? And David Paymer was in it? I mean, I know I'm gushing, but it's just awesome. And I love that they show the slot machines at the airport, and 11 million, too great. The score is good, not Ocean's Twelve good, but I owe Vern for pointing that out first. (Damn, that guy gets EVERYWHERE first.)
It's not as straight-up wonderful as Ocean's Twelve, but I loved it. Soderbergh can basically do no wrong. (I even loved Full Frontal, and that took some doing. But he owned me after Schizopolis, I'll always love him for that one, and he never does me wrong these days. The Good German was a little rough though. I understood the plan, but it was NOT realized.)
And when Andy Garcia tells them they have to get the diamonds... Let me stop. Run, don't walk, to bi**orrent and d@wnl@ad this sucker. It is worth it, every step.
This made me laugh
This rather brilliant condensation of the film says it all quite nicely.
Maggie Judy Smith Dench:Hello Austen! I am a cruel and haughty and one-dimensional snob, but I do lament that it is my misfortune to not be very funnym either. Miss Austen, there's a prettyish sort of wilderness over there.
Jane:Stop! I must take a moment to crib your writing in a cheap gesture towards my observational talent. [writes it down] Okay, done! Heave, bosom, heave.
Maggie Judy Smith Dench:Hello Austen! I am a cruel and haughty and one-dimensional snob, but I do lament that it is my misfortune to not be very funnym either. Miss Austen, there's a prettyish sort of wilderness over there.
Jane:Stop! I must take a moment to crib your writing in a cheap gesture towards my observational talent. [writes it down] Okay, done! Heave, bosom, heave.
Nothing much new this weekend
I worked almost all weekend. Friday night, Saturday morning and Sunday morning. Actually, Margaret and I both worked together. She finished her projects for school on Thursday, preseneted them that night, and she's in the clear for 3 weeks, so she works with me now. It's nice, to be running like mad around the restaurant and see her face. We make eyebrows at each other and point out the foibles of guests. (My two favorites from yesterday: The teenage girl crying into her salad while she explained to her parents that the car they were going to buy her was not adequate. The teenage girls who told each other, while I was standing there, in the most utterly scornful voice imaginable, "Well, I hear she's WAITRESSING now. Ewwwww." Awesome.)
Saturday my friend Sam had a table with three little girls who fell in love with me. The oldest was probably 9, but they were really sweet and drew pictures for me. Mano, Roman and Margot, there Mom was named Sabine. They were really sweet, really fun and they ran up to me and hugged me before they left. It kind of made my day. They also REALLY didn't like Margaret, nor the fact that I had married her. They were upset that I had given her a ring and they took it off her finger at one point. Margaret was bemused, until they dropped it under the table. But then Roman jumped under the table and retrieved it, so that was ok.
We went to a Pirate restaurant in Silver Spring on Saturday night, for date-night. It was pretty great. The service was awful, but the drinks were large enough that they could get away with that. There were a bunch of pirate re-enactors as the servers, which was funny and also seemed to open up a strange sub-species of Americana. There was fire-breathing and singing and general nonsense. Also some fake lesbians came before we left and sat right near us. We wished Ami was there to give them scornful looks. Definitely a place to bring Frank and Ami when they come.
After dinner we walked, or stumbled as the Pirates insisted on saying, over to the movie theatre to see The Simpsons Movie. It was good, a really well animated and fun 90 minute episode of The Simpsons, always worth-while. Lots of great little things, among the funnier and less mentioned in the film, the way the old lady is blowing into Homer's mouth when he wakes up. When the people from the bar and the church switch places when the apocalypse arrives, and every scene with Bart and Ned Flanders was just swell.
Also, everyone swing over to Vern's site and check it out, TWO new reviews from the weekend.
Saturday my friend Sam had a table with three little girls who fell in love with me. The oldest was probably 9, but they were really sweet and drew pictures for me. Mano, Roman and Margot, there Mom was named Sabine. They were really sweet, really fun and they ran up to me and hugged me before they left. It kind of made my day. They also REALLY didn't like Margaret, nor the fact that I had married her. They were upset that I had given her a ring and they took it off her finger at one point. Margaret was bemused, until they dropped it under the table. But then Roman jumped under the table and retrieved it, so that was ok.
We went to a Pirate restaurant in Silver Spring on Saturday night, for date-night. It was pretty great. The service was awful, but the drinks were large enough that they could get away with that. There were a bunch of pirate re-enactors as the servers, which was funny and also seemed to open up a strange sub-species of Americana. There was fire-breathing and singing and general nonsense. Also some fake lesbians came before we left and sat right near us. We wished Ami was there to give them scornful looks. Definitely a place to bring Frank and Ami when they come.
After dinner we walked, or stumbled as the Pirates insisted on saying, over to the movie theatre to see The Simpsons Movie. It was good, a really well animated and fun 90 minute episode of The Simpsons, always worth-while. Lots of great little things, among the funnier and less mentioned in the film, the way the old lady is blowing into Homer's mouth when he wakes up. When the people from the bar and the church switch places when the apocalypse arrives, and every scene with Bart and Ned Flanders was just swell.
Also, everyone swing over to Vern's site and check it out, TWO new reviews from the weekend.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Angry
I'm angry today, for no good or even sane reason. I am just full of anger, which is making my wife unhappy and not really doing anything positive for me. But I can't stop. I think that part of it is that I have managed to not be angry about so many things lately. I mean, it isn't as if the last couple wee... couple mont... couple yea... several years have been a picnic. They haven't, and I recognize that a lot of that is my own fault and all, but still sometimes I think that anger builds up. Sometimes it gets to be too much and like an over pressurized steam valve, it needs to be bled off or it will explode. So I guess I am glad that I haven't lost my temper, thrown anything or otherwise acted a fool. But at the same time, I wish I knew how to keep from being angry. Readers, thoughts?
Friday, August 10, 2007
A strange thought
You know, it's my little brother's birthday today, he's 18. Andrew Anthony Pitrone turns 18 today, and in his honor I was going to tell the story of my 18th birthday, but then it occurred to me, I can't remember it.
It hasn't been 18 years since or anything. I mean, that might have been a good excuse for not remembering my first birthday on my 18th, but to not remember my 18th when I'm not even 30.... Well, that just reeks of irresponsible memorizing.I'm pretty sure I still lived at home. I'm pretty sure I had long hair, shaved around the back and sides, long on top. (Hey, it was 1996, that was cool then. Or at least is was cool-ish. The Incredible Hulk did his hair like that. Though to be honest, I didn't even look that cool.)
I remember not having a graduation party. I remember being bitter about that. I remember being pretty bitter about almost everything. If I'd had any musical talent I would have started a rock band. (Though lack of talent doesn't seem to have stopped most of the bands I can think of from the time.) Other than that... did I drink? Was I high? I have no idea.
It hasn't been 18 years since or anything. I mean, that might have been a good excuse for not remembering my first birthday on my 18th, but to not remember my 18th when I'm not even 30.... Well, that just reeks of irresponsible memorizing.I'm pretty sure I still lived at home. I'm pretty sure I had long hair, shaved around the back and sides, long on top. (Hey, it was 1996, that was cool then. Or at least is was cool-ish. The Incredible Hulk did his hair like that. Though to be honest, I didn't even look that cool.)
I remember not having a graduation party. I remember being bitter about that. I remember being pretty bitter about almost everything. If I'd had any musical talent I would have started a rock band. (Though lack of talent doesn't seem to have stopped most of the bands I can think of from the time.) Other than that... did I drink? Was I high? I have no idea.
Parkerizing
So, when I was 18 or 19 I worked in a gun shop. We built machine guns for wealthy collectors and the guns we used were not the sort to figure into random handgun crime. The point is, I worked in what we called The Sandblaster Room. (Eventually it was just the blaster room, which was the sort of miserablist humor we had in that place. I think it became the blaster room after my friend blew his face off in an industrial accident, but that's another story.) I worked in the blaster room, sandblasting rifle receivers, and then dipping them for 10 minutes in a boiling acid called Parkerizing Solution. It was pretty foul stuff and seriously, it was boiling. I used to have to wear these gloves that went up to my elbows and I'd carefully lower the receiver into the acid and then leave it on blocks of plastic at the bottom, hoping that the acid was the right temperature, hoping that I had place the metal on the right bits of plastic, hoping, basically, that I hadn't screwed the whole thing up. Probably 1 out of every 4 guns had to be redone. It was back-breaking, irritating work.
All of this to say, I watched Point Blank last night.
It's a John Boorman adaptation of a book called The Hunter (1962), by a guy named Richard Stark, which is a pen name for Donald Westlake (and if you think that's confusing, you should see the movie.). In the book the main character is a fellow named Parker, which is the whole circuitous point of the above story, which I will now be drawing parallels to. In the book, the first of a long series, Parker has been double-crossed in an armed robbery, by his wife no less. She takes up with another crook, shoots him in the back, and leaves him for dead, taking his share of the loot. I can't remember what the amount is in the book, but it was reasonably piddly, even for the standards of the day. (A site I looked up said that it's $45,000. I could go for $45,000, don't get me wrong, but for the trouble he goes through, it's not that much.)
Parker is a GREAT character. He's really smart, really clever, he's always getting in trouble and always taking up with rotten characters who try to do him dirt. The greatest thing about him is that he is so single-mindedly focused on what he is doing that nothing really gets in his way at all. He just batters down anything in front of him and get what he wants. The story of The Hunter is how he comes back from the dead, get his wife, gets his money and gets the other crook. It's a tough as nails story of revenge and pain and Parker never, ever gives up and is never, ever without a plan. He looks at the situation and figures it out, figures out how he's going to handle it, figures out how he's going to achieve his goal. There's never a time when he's at a loss. There are times when he gets beaten up, times when he gets outsmarted, times when he loses what he was going for, but he never doesn't have a plan.
But then there's this movie Point Blank. I REALLY wanted to like this one. The great granddaddy of American Cinema Reviewers, my hero, Vern says that it's a good one. He said that it's better than either version of Payback (The Mel Gibson/Brian Helgeland take on the same story.) But honestly, I can't see it. It's ok. Lee Marvin has a great face. There is a scene during the opening credits, after he has been shot, where he is hanging on the razor-wire fencing at Alcatraz, trying to get out, and his face is so hauntingly scary that it's awesome. He seems tough. He has a quiet, well a REALLY quiet, demeanor and he just seems like he's ready for anything. But then he just kind of floats for the rest of the film. And while Parker is quiet a lot of the time, it is a lot less cinematic than you might think to see a guy sit around and not talk.
There is maybe one scene of him being tough, he beats up some guys in a nightclub. But the whole scene is silly. The nightclub is supposed to be a not-so-hot jazz club, but it mostly consists of this really over-the-top insane funk band and a singer who apparently only screams. I don't know who his lyricist is, but he should NOT be given more work. Maybe John Boorman just never heard songs before, I don't know. Anyways, Walker, (he's named Walker, not Parker in this one) beats up a couple of guys, but it's not really all that impressive. It lacks pizazz and I don't care what anyone has to say about the shaky-cam movement in today's action cinema, placing a fight with a steady-cam in the middle of some sort of psychedelic light show is not more effective story-telling. (And, again, what about this says jazz?)
(And why is the main character's name Walker? And in Payback, why is it... what ever it is, not Parker? Porter? In both movies it says that they got the story from The Hunter, so why not use the name? Parker is a really good name. They had the rights, why not just keep a good name? I can't figure it out. And I guess Porter and Walker are cool names, too. But there is no reason to change them. It's like Walt Disney with all his little changes to the great stories he was telling, why do that?)
The whole point I want to make here is NOT to tear apart a movie that people seem to love and is widely regarded as one of the classics of 70's pulp cinema, but to say that I don't understand what they're doing with the character/story. See, Parker thinks things through. He knows what he's gonna do because he's seen it and done it all before. He knows who is going to doublecross him because it's been done before, though as near as we can tell, the only time anyone ever puts one over on him it's his wife. But this Walker guy has Napoleon's Battle Plan, he shows up and sees what happens. Whatever it is is ok with him. He just lets it happen and hopes he ends up on top. He does sometimes, and in the movie it is left ambiguous as to whether or not he gets what he set out to. It's a real bummer of an ending. And I'm not one of these guys who likes everything spelled out for him. I get it, I don't need to be told why the caged bird sings. But some sort of an ending would be a lot better than an atmospheric shot of the San Francisco Bay.
I know a lot of you haven't seen this movie, but you probably ought to. It's by John Boorman, who made some really good, iconic films. It has a really brooding soundtrack, except for the jazz scene, and one of the funniest musical interludes in a sex-scene, ever. The sex-scene is very PG, by the way, no nudity or anything. But I just can't recommend it from an enjoyment standpoint. To use a phrase that I like, it's a broccoli movie. It's probably good for you, for your filmic education and all, but it's just not a great film to watch.
I really was going to tie it all together with Parkerizing, but then I just lost interest in that part. One time I burned the whole side of my arm doing it, though. I tipped my glove too far into the tank and got a huge blister. I guess that's how I felt when I watched this movie? I don't know. I had a point but I lost it. If I was better at self-editing I'd cut out the beginning, but I kind of like it. It's a good story, or at least it's atmosphere. Think of it as my shot of the Bay.
All of this to say, I watched Point Blank last night.
It's a John Boorman adaptation of a book called The Hunter (1962), by a guy named Richard Stark, which is a pen name for Donald Westlake (and if you think that's confusing, you should see the movie.). In the book the main character is a fellow named Parker, which is the whole circuitous point of the above story, which I will now be drawing parallels to. In the book, the first of a long series, Parker has been double-crossed in an armed robbery, by his wife no less. She takes up with another crook, shoots him in the back, and leaves him for dead, taking his share of the loot. I can't remember what the amount is in the book, but it was reasonably piddly, even for the standards of the day. (A site I looked up said that it's $45,000. I could go for $45,000, don't get me wrong, but for the trouble he goes through, it's not that much.)
Parker is a GREAT character. He's really smart, really clever, he's always getting in trouble and always taking up with rotten characters who try to do him dirt. The greatest thing about him is that he is so single-mindedly focused on what he is doing that nothing really gets in his way at all. He just batters down anything in front of him and get what he wants. The story of The Hunter is how he comes back from the dead, get his wife, gets his money and gets the other crook. It's a tough as nails story of revenge and pain and Parker never, ever gives up and is never, ever without a plan. He looks at the situation and figures it out, figures out how he's going to handle it, figures out how he's going to achieve his goal. There's never a time when he's at a loss. There are times when he gets beaten up, times when he gets outsmarted, times when he loses what he was going for, but he never doesn't have a plan.
But then there's this movie Point Blank. I REALLY wanted to like this one. The great granddaddy of American Cinema Reviewers, my hero, Vern says that it's a good one. He said that it's better than either version of Payback (The Mel Gibson/Brian Helgeland take on the same story.) But honestly, I can't see it. It's ok. Lee Marvin has a great face. There is a scene during the opening credits, after he has been shot, where he is hanging on the razor-wire fencing at Alcatraz, trying to get out, and his face is so hauntingly scary that it's awesome. He seems tough. He has a quiet, well a REALLY quiet, demeanor and he just seems like he's ready for anything. But then he just kind of floats for the rest of the film. And while Parker is quiet a lot of the time, it is a lot less cinematic than you might think to see a guy sit around and not talk.
There is maybe one scene of him being tough, he beats up some guys in a nightclub. But the whole scene is silly. The nightclub is supposed to be a not-so-hot jazz club, but it mostly consists of this really over-the-top insane funk band and a singer who apparently only screams. I don't know who his lyricist is, but he should NOT be given more work. Maybe John Boorman just never heard songs before, I don't know. Anyways, Walker, (he's named Walker, not Parker in this one) beats up a couple of guys, but it's not really all that impressive. It lacks pizazz and I don't care what anyone has to say about the shaky-cam movement in today's action cinema, placing a fight with a steady-cam in the middle of some sort of psychedelic light show is not more effective story-telling. (And, again, what about this says jazz?)
(And why is the main character's name Walker? And in Payback, why is it... what ever it is, not Parker? Porter? In both movies it says that they got the story from The Hunter, so why not use the name? Parker is a really good name. They had the rights, why not just keep a good name? I can't figure it out. And I guess Porter and Walker are cool names, too. But there is no reason to change them. It's like Walt Disney with all his little changes to the great stories he was telling, why do that?)
The whole point I want to make here is NOT to tear apart a movie that people seem to love and is widely regarded as one of the classics of 70's pulp cinema, but to say that I don't understand what they're doing with the character/story. See, Parker thinks things through. He knows what he's gonna do because he's seen it and done it all before. He knows who is going to doublecross him because it's been done before, though as near as we can tell, the only time anyone ever puts one over on him it's his wife. But this Walker guy has Napoleon's Battle Plan, he shows up and sees what happens. Whatever it is is ok with him. He just lets it happen and hopes he ends up on top. He does sometimes, and in the movie it is left ambiguous as to whether or not he gets what he set out to. It's a real bummer of an ending. And I'm not one of these guys who likes everything spelled out for him. I get it, I don't need to be told why the caged bird sings. But some sort of an ending would be a lot better than an atmospheric shot of the San Francisco Bay.
I know a lot of you haven't seen this movie, but you probably ought to. It's by John Boorman, who made some really good, iconic films. It has a really brooding soundtrack, except for the jazz scene, and one of the funniest musical interludes in a sex-scene, ever. The sex-scene is very PG, by the way, no nudity or anything. But I just can't recommend it from an enjoyment standpoint. To use a phrase that I like, it's a broccoli movie. It's probably good for you, for your filmic education and all, but it's just not a great film to watch.
I really was going to tie it all together with Parkerizing, but then I just lost interest in that part. One time I burned the whole side of my arm doing it, though. I tipped my glove too far into the tank and got a huge blister. I guess that's how I felt when I watched this movie? I don't know. I had a point but I lost it. If I was better at self-editing I'd cut out the beginning, but I kind of like it. It's a good story, or at least it's atmosphere. Think of it as my shot of the Bay.
A Big Inning
So, I've been wandering around on here for a while, reading everyone's thoughts day after day and I've been thinking that I ought to get a hand in. I mean, why should you all have all the fun? Plus, I have many interesting and compelling thoughts that deserve a home outside of my head, so you lucky, lucky kids all get to read them! (And you'd BETTER read them, don't let me catch you NOT reading my compelling thoughts, or so help me... )
At any rate, vague threats aside, this is my blog. Welcome.
I'm going to attempt to post here once a day, but this is a pretty hectic time period, and then in October I'm supposed to move to San Diego for 8 weeks and then Okinawa, Japan for 4 years, so who knows, this might be an experiment in futility.
I think that it's gonna be daily, and I think that it's going to be interesting... ok, I'm losing confidence and steam already, so I'm going to post this and then jump in with my first thought for the day.
At any rate, vague threats aside, this is my blog. Welcome.
I'm going to attempt to post here once a day, but this is a pretty hectic time period, and then in October I'm supposed to move to San Diego for 8 weeks and then Okinawa, Japan for 4 years, so who knows, this might be an experiment in futility.
I think that it's gonna be daily, and I think that it's going to be interesting... ok, I'm losing confidence and steam already, so I'm going to post this and then jump in with my first thought for the day.
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