The Olympics are over and now it is time to reflect back what I learned, which is this: Curling. Is. AWESOME! I know, I know, the Olympics were 3 weeks ago, so this is pretty late, but I promised talk of curling, and that's exactly what you're gonna get.
I must admit, that when I first started watching curling, I was watching only for the sheer novelty and silliness of it. I mean, the Norwegian men were playing in pajama pants for crying out loud! But the more I watched, the more I realized that curling is a sport, a ridiculous sport, but a sport nonetheless. When you watch a team drop a deuce in the bottom of the end... I mean, when they put the rock right on the button... ok, so some of the terms are a little weird, but still, you gotta respect someone who can stick one knee into their chest with the other leg dragging behind while sliding on a Teflon covered shoe directing a 46 pound rock into the center of a 12 foot circle 60 feet away. can you even get one knee to touch your chest while sliding on ice? I mean, on purpose? No? I didn't think so, you should really work out more.
Anyway, part of the reason I got sucked in was the level of competition. Imagine tuning into baseball for the 1st time and seeing every game settled in the 10th inning by one run. Matches that close tend to appeal to the competitor in all of us. On top of that, you have a Canadian home crowd cheering like this is the Super Bowl. 20,000 toque wearing Canadians screaming over curling. It's kind of Awesome. At one point, the Canadian men were down one rock to the Swedes in the 11th end, and the Canadians had the hammer (to the uninitiated, I'll translate: "the Yankee's were down by one run at home in the 10th inning to the Red Sox") when the Canadian home crowd spontaneously burst into and an acapella version of "O Canada." The match stopped dead until the crowd finished. Then the Canadians came back and defeated the defending world champs. How can you not be moved by that?
I mean, these are athletes who get excited when 2,000 people watch, let alone ten times that many. It's pretty special. In fact, the crowd was so into curling THAT THE PA ANNOUNCER HAD TO TELL THEM TO SETTLE DOWN! At one point, a girl on the Dutch team cried because the crowd was so rowdy. So now we have spontaneous singing, screaming crowds, and cute Dutch girls crying, would you change the channel? Reality TV wishes they had this much drama.
If you're wondering why people were so upset at the noise, imagine trying to hit a golf shot, only you're on ice, the ball weighs 46lbs, you don't have a club, and people are screaming at you. I think you'd get a little rattled too.
To sum up, curling is awesome, and it sucks to be you if you missed it, cuz now it will most likely be 4 years before you get another chance to watch it, and the Mayan's say will be dead in two, so you really missed out on something special.
That's about all I have to say about curling for now. I'm more of a roller derby fan these days though. But that's a blog for another day.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Great Concert Memories - My 1st Concert - Part 2
So we finally get to the site, and it is basically a fence around an open field with one massive permanent stage, several mobile stages and tons of booths selling band merchandise and concessions. Oh, and a skate ramp for pro skaters to do tricks on, but that is irrelevant to this story. While waiting to get into the park, I get to do some people watching, and I learned quickly the adhesive magic egg whites perform on hair.
A quick note on the set up of the main stage. In order to keep the show on schedule, the stage was split in the middle by a giant stack of amps. one half of the stage was always being set for the next group while the current band played on the other half. It ran like clockwork.
When we finally get in, my buddy and I head straight to the main stage. It's 11:15 am and the 1st band is almost done with their set. The first thing I notice is that punk music is supposed to be listened to live. I forget the name of the band, but I remember being surprised at the energy they brought to the stage, especially before noon. The next band up I do remember. It was a female fronted band called Tsunami Bomb, and they were pretty great. Since it was early, I got all the way to the front row and got to shake hands with the lead singer. It marked the first and only time I've had a crush on a musician. She was crazy cute with funky pink highlighted hair, and she gave off a very energetic and positive vibe.
So after the lovely lady punk finished, My attention was drawn to the left hand stage where a band of filthy men in dirty white t-shirts was ready to play. This would be Andrew W.K. If you don't know what Andrew W.K. sounds like, picture the happiest music you've ever heard channeled through metal guitars and sung by a demon. It was the musical equivalent of adding habanero pepper to dark chocolate, but in a good way. It was also my introduction to the mosh pit. While Andrew jumped around the stage dancing like a lunatic and telling everyone how much he loved them, I jumped around like a lunatic in the gentlest mosh pit ever. The nice mid-western punks kids made a circle (like you do) and we all jumped around inside, crashing into each other as politely as possible. It also may have been that it was just now noon, and most of the crowd was still waking up. If anyone ever fell down, three people grabbed them and pulled them up so the party could continue. My day was already turning out much differently than I had thought. These were not a bunch of anoying losers listening to crappy music. These were a bunch of nice, cool kids (for the most part) dancing to high energy, positive punk rock.
Up next were the Mad Caddies, a fantastic ska-punk band with a burly lead singer parading around stage slapping his belly (it was more fun than it sounds, I promise)
About halfway through their set, I realized we were being invaded by an army. I turned around to see a sea of Black and Green, with huge banners held high. Who could be playing next that inspired such rabid devotion? I looked at the big board with the list of bands, somebody called the Dropkick Murphys was up next. What was this all about?
It turns out that the Dropkick Murphys are a high octane Irish punk band from Boston, and holy crap do they put on a show. The experience of watching this band play in front of their fans is kind of like being in the coolest cement mixer ever.
Up next was a band named Thrice, but I can't tell you how they were though because after two plus hours in front of the middle stack of speakers, I could no longer differentiate sounds. So after the set, it was time to take a break and refuel.
On a side note, punk fans do not always bathe, and this can be a problem when you stand in the sun on a giant concrete slab in July with a few thousand of them. Thankfully, the security crew did something amazing. They hosed down the crowd. Nothing makes you forget the fat sweaty guy rubbing against you like a shot of water hose to the face.
After a couple hours of food eating and CD buying, it was time to get back to the main stage to see this AFI band I'd heard so much about. As the band before them started their set, the once blue sky had gotten quite cloudy, so the crew set about covering all amps in plastic and waterproofing the stage. The band before AFI finishes, and the sky has gotten scary dark. Then I see this band of guys dressed in black with black hair and black eye makeup and pasty white skin come out on stage. They start to play their first song, a slow, doomy intro song, that increases to a fantastic creshendo. The crowd has become a sea of kids in black screaming as loud as I ever ever heard. The tension builds and builds until Davey Havok, the lead singer walks out onstage looking like Alice Cooper's bastard child. The band hits a monster cord has Davey jumps in the air like David Lee Roth, and, as if on cue, the skies open up and pour down upon us. The crowd and the band are like a single, seething entity screaming as one. The rain pounds the sweltering concrete and sweaty crowd and causes a fog of steam to rise above our heads as Davey walks into the audience, held up by his rabid fans, and shows everybody what a real rock star looks like. My little mind is officially blown. I am shrieking and singing words to a song I don't even know. Once the set is done, everyone is screaming so long they have to wait for the poor schlubs who have to follow them. The rain stops before the next band starts and the sky is sunny by the time the Ataris start playing after them.
Although it was still early in the evening, AFI had wiped us out and it was time to go home. But was a day I'll never forget.
I think that's quite enough for now, Up next: how curling caused me to stop writing in my blog.
A quick note on the set up of the main stage. In order to keep the show on schedule, the stage was split in the middle by a giant stack of amps. one half of the stage was always being set for the next group while the current band played on the other half. It ran like clockwork.
When we finally get in, my buddy and I head straight to the main stage. It's 11:15 am and the 1st band is almost done with their set. The first thing I notice is that punk music is supposed to be listened to live. I forget the name of the band, but I remember being surprised at the energy they brought to the stage, especially before noon. The next band up I do remember. It was a female fronted band called Tsunami Bomb, and they were pretty great. Since it was early, I got all the way to the front row and got to shake hands with the lead singer. It marked the first and only time I've had a crush on a musician. She was crazy cute with funky pink highlighted hair, and she gave off a very energetic and positive vibe.
So after the lovely lady punk finished, My attention was drawn to the left hand stage where a band of filthy men in dirty white t-shirts was ready to play. This would be Andrew W.K. If you don't know what Andrew W.K. sounds like, picture the happiest music you've ever heard channeled through metal guitars and sung by a demon. It was the musical equivalent of adding habanero pepper to dark chocolate, but in a good way. It was also my introduction to the mosh pit. While Andrew jumped around the stage dancing like a lunatic and telling everyone how much he loved them, I jumped around like a lunatic in the gentlest mosh pit ever. The nice mid-western punks kids made a circle (like you do) and we all jumped around inside, crashing into each other as politely as possible. It also may have been that it was just now noon, and most of the crowd was still waking up. If anyone ever fell down, three people grabbed them and pulled them up so the party could continue. My day was already turning out much differently than I had thought. These were not a bunch of anoying losers listening to crappy music. These were a bunch of nice, cool kids (for the most part) dancing to high energy, positive punk rock.
Up next were the Mad Caddies, a fantastic ska-punk band with a burly lead singer parading around stage slapping his belly (it was more fun than it sounds, I promise)
About halfway through their set, I realized we were being invaded by an army. I turned around to see a sea of Black and Green, with huge banners held high. Who could be playing next that inspired such rabid devotion? I looked at the big board with the list of bands, somebody called the Dropkick Murphys was up next. What was this all about?
It turns out that the Dropkick Murphys are a high octane Irish punk band from Boston, and holy crap do they put on a show. The experience of watching this band play in front of their fans is kind of like being in the coolest cement mixer ever.
Up next was a band named Thrice, but I can't tell you how they were though because after two plus hours in front of the middle stack of speakers, I could no longer differentiate sounds. So after the set, it was time to take a break and refuel.
On a side note, punk fans do not always bathe, and this can be a problem when you stand in the sun on a giant concrete slab in July with a few thousand of them. Thankfully, the security crew did something amazing. They hosed down the crowd. Nothing makes you forget the fat sweaty guy rubbing against you like a shot of water hose to the face.
After a couple hours of food eating and CD buying, it was time to get back to the main stage to see this AFI band I'd heard so much about. As the band before them started their set, the once blue sky had gotten quite cloudy, so the crew set about covering all amps in plastic and waterproofing the stage. The band before AFI finishes, and the sky has gotten scary dark. Then I see this band of guys dressed in black with black hair and black eye makeup and pasty white skin come out on stage. They start to play their first song, a slow, doomy intro song, that increases to a fantastic creshendo. The crowd has become a sea of kids in black screaming as loud as I ever ever heard. The tension builds and builds until Davey Havok, the lead singer walks out onstage looking like Alice Cooper's bastard child. The band hits a monster cord has Davey jumps in the air like David Lee Roth, and, as if on cue, the skies open up and pour down upon us. The crowd and the band are like a single, seething entity screaming as one. The rain pounds the sweltering concrete and sweaty crowd and causes a fog of steam to rise above our heads as Davey walks into the audience, held up by his rabid fans, and shows everybody what a real rock star looks like. My little mind is officially blown. I am shrieking and singing words to a song I don't even know. Once the set is done, everyone is screaming so long they have to wait for the poor schlubs who have to follow them. The rain stops before the next band starts and the sky is sunny by the time the Ataris start playing after them.
Although it was still early in the evening, AFI had wiped us out and it was time to go home. But was a day I'll never forget.
I think that's quite enough for now, Up next: how curling caused me to stop writing in my blog.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Great Concert Memories - My 1st concert - part I
In keeping with the non-theme of my blog, I'm gonna talk about something new today. I want to talk about my 1st concert memory.
This isn't strictly speaking, the 1st concert I ever saw. I'd seen Herman's Hermits and Gladys Knight with the Temptations at the State Fair growing up. What I want to talk about is the 1st concert I ever went to with just friends, and no family along for the ride. So what was my first big concert experience? It was the 2002 Van's Warped Tour at Flo-Rite Park just outside of the Twin Cities.
A little context: this was the summer between my junior and senior year of high school. I was a band, choir, and theatre geek who had never been very adventurous. I did not drink at all in high school, I never missed curfew, my first car wreck occurred in a mini van at under 25mph, and I had a paralyzing fear of girls. I was the antithesis of punk. So when my best friend asked if I wanted to go to the Warped Tour, it was more out of musical curiosity than anything else. (the fact that we'd be riding with two girls I may or may not have had a crush on at the time had nothing to do with it)
I hated punk music too. Or, to be accurate, I hated punk music as I understood it. I was raised on classic rock, grew up with 90's alternative pop, and was in the middle of a serious nu-metal phase. The concert I would have picked included Staind, Linkin Park, Limp Bizkit, and Metallica. To me, punk was what whimpy skateboarders listened too and contained prepubescent vocals over poorly played instruments. (That's right, the future swim team captain questioned the toughness of skateboarders) The focus of my hatred of punk was a band called AFI. Now, I'd never heard anything AFI had ever done, but the kid in the trumpet section in band who I thought was a bit of a tool happened to wear an AFI sweatshirt rather frequently, so AFI sucked by association.
Despite my feelings about Punk, I decided to go. I'd get to spend the day road tripping with friends and I finally get to see a band formed after the 1960s. Also, the worst band in the world would beat a summer day pushing carts in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I don't recall much of the ride there. Growing up in far northern Wisconsin, it's a very long drive to anywhere worth while to a teenager, so we left around dawn, and I vaguely recall Burger King cinnamon rolls for breakfast. I got to hear some of the bands we'd be seeing that day, including AFI. I was a little surprised that they didn't sound too bad. Maybe this day wouldn't be so bad, but I still had my doubts.
part II coming soon!
This isn't strictly speaking, the 1st concert I ever saw. I'd seen Herman's Hermits and Gladys Knight with the Temptations at the State Fair growing up. What I want to talk about is the 1st concert I ever went to with just friends, and no family along for the ride. So what was my first big concert experience? It was the 2002 Van's Warped Tour at Flo-Rite Park just outside of the Twin Cities.
A little context: this was the summer between my junior and senior year of high school. I was a band, choir, and theatre geek who had never been very adventurous. I did not drink at all in high school, I never missed curfew, my first car wreck occurred in a mini van at under 25mph, and I had a paralyzing fear of girls. I was the antithesis of punk. So when my best friend asked if I wanted to go to the Warped Tour, it was more out of musical curiosity than anything else. (the fact that we'd be riding with two girls I may or may not have had a crush on at the time had nothing to do with it)
I hated punk music too. Or, to be accurate, I hated punk music as I understood it. I was raised on classic rock, grew up with 90's alternative pop, and was in the middle of a serious nu-metal phase. The concert I would have picked included Staind, Linkin Park, Limp Bizkit, and Metallica. To me, punk was what whimpy skateboarders listened too and contained prepubescent vocals over poorly played instruments. (That's right, the future swim team captain questioned the toughness of skateboarders) The focus of my hatred of punk was a band called AFI. Now, I'd never heard anything AFI had ever done, but the kid in the trumpet section in band who I thought was a bit of a tool happened to wear an AFI sweatshirt rather frequently, so AFI sucked by association.
Despite my feelings about Punk, I decided to go. I'd get to spend the day road tripping with friends and I finally get to see a band formed after the 1960s. Also, the worst band in the world would beat a summer day pushing carts in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I don't recall much of the ride there. Growing up in far northern Wisconsin, it's a very long drive to anywhere worth while to a teenager, so we left around dawn, and I vaguely recall Burger King cinnamon rolls for breakfast. I got to hear some of the bands we'd be seeing that day, including AFI. I was a little surprised that they didn't sound too bad. Maybe this day wouldn't be so bad, but I still had my doubts.
part II coming soon!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Wolfman review
Ok, certain readers have been whining about not having enough to read, so I hope to gorge you all over the next several days. First up, my review of the Wolfman:
3.5/5 stars
The Good - The Wolfman embraces an old school storytelling style that makes this movie feel like a 1930s script filmed today, and I do mean that in a good way.
The Bad - Movie was delayed and reworked a lot, and the plotting suffers for it
The Ugly - Dumbest set up for a sequel ever!
Longer Take - The new Wolfman movie featuring Benicio Del Toro and Anthony Hopkins is a fun night at the movies. Anthony Hopkins deserves a lot of praise for his most entertaining performance since Silence of the Lambs. His almost casual chewing of the scenery is a complete joy to watch. Credit should also go out to Hugo Weaving for being the first intelligent police office I have ever seen in a horror movie. Before seeing the wolfman in person, Hugo Weaving's character does what you'd hope a policeman would: he asks questions and follows the laws he's supposed to protect. This includes defending suspects from a growing mob threat. Once the threat has been experienced, he also does what you would do, namely, get all the officers you can with a crapload of guns to solve the problem, but blowing it to pieces. Benicio Del Toro enunciates in this movie, which makes it one of his better performances, but his accent is so painfully not British or standard American that it is not a little distracting. Emily Blunt is very pretty and she's in the movie too. Her character is more or less a plot device so there's not much else to say about that.
What Really made this movie enjoyable though was not the cast, but the setting and style of the film. I felt like I was watching a film from the 30s or 40s with up to date camera work and CGI. The story contains certain tropes that give you an old timey feel: there is the mysterious old mansion, a legend of a supernatural beast, the simple minded townsfolk fear the magical gypsys, and the owner of the old mansion has a non-white manservant who knows something about monsters. Unlike the disaster that was VAN HELSING, this movie is staunchly old-fashioned and never tries to be "hip" or "modern." everything feels old and comfortable. The CGI is not great, but not terrible, and the Wolfman creature is an extremely faithful design that I quite liked. The only thing apart from the effects that updates this movie is the gore, and there are buckets of blood to go around! The most successful part of the movie happens before we get a good look at the creature. We get lots of violence and gore but only a glimpse of the monster. It reminded me of why movies like JAWS are so successful, there is something so much more terrifying about a creature you can't see. The Wolfman could have benefited from continuing this "less is more" approach, but it does do a nice job overall.
The last thing I want to talk about is what this movie does to differentiate itself from the current crop of werewolf and vampire movies, books, and TV shows. There are only two werewolves in the movie, and the movie shows how brutal and tragic it is too be one. Because there is a small number of monsters, each one gets to be as brutal as possible. You ever notice how a vampire or a werewolf's power seems to diminish has the number of them grows. You have to balance the power in order to tell a compelling story and that is why you get relatively weak monsters in the True Blood, Underworld, or Buffy universes. Oh sure, they may have some powers, but there are always other monsters to balance that power and make it seem weaker. Not here. When you only have one (or two), the brutality quotient goes up. Also, there's nothing sexy about being a werewolf. Sorry girls, no hairless man boys who instantly transform into pretty dogs, You get hairy, middle aged men horribly contorting into ugly man-wolf hybrids who rip off limbs, slash throats, and spill guts like it's going out of style. And that should make any horror movie lover happy.
3.5/5 stars
The Good - The Wolfman embraces an old school storytelling style that makes this movie feel like a 1930s script filmed today, and I do mean that in a good way.
The Bad - Movie was delayed and reworked a lot, and the plotting suffers for it
The Ugly - Dumbest set up for a sequel ever!
Longer Take - The new Wolfman movie featuring Benicio Del Toro and Anthony Hopkins is a fun night at the movies. Anthony Hopkins deserves a lot of praise for his most entertaining performance since Silence of the Lambs. His almost casual chewing of the scenery is a complete joy to watch. Credit should also go out to Hugo Weaving for being the first intelligent police office I have ever seen in a horror movie. Before seeing the wolfman in person, Hugo Weaving's character does what you'd hope a policeman would: he asks questions and follows the laws he's supposed to protect. This includes defending suspects from a growing mob threat. Once the threat has been experienced, he also does what you would do, namely, get all the officers you can with a crapload of guns to solve the problem, but blowing it to pieces. Benicio Del Toro enunciates in this movie, which makes it one of his better performances, but his accent is so painfully not British or standard American that it is not a little distracting. Emily Blunt is very pretty and she's in the movie too. Her character is more or less a plot device so there's not much else to say about that.
What Really made this movie enjoyable though was not the cast, but the setting and style of the film. I felt like I was watching a film from the 30s or 40s with up to date camera work and CGI. The story contains certain tropes that give you an old timey feel: there is the mysterious old mansion, a legend of a supernatural beast, the simple minded townsfolk fear the magical gypsys, and the owner of the old mansion has a non-white manservant who knows something about monsters. Unlike the disaster that was VAN HELSING, this movie is staunchly old-fashioned and never tries to be "hip" or "modern." everything feels old and comfortable. The CGI is not great, but not terrible, and the Wolfman creature is an extremely faithful design that I quite liked. The only thing apart from the effects that updates this movie is the gore, and there are buckets of blood to go around! The most successful part of the movie happens before we get a good look at the creature. We get lots of violence and gore but only a glimpse of the monster. It reminded me of why movies like JAWS are so successful, there is something so much more terrifying about a creature you can't see. The Wolfman could have benefited from continuing this "less is more" approach, but it does do a nice job overall.
The last thing I want to talk about is what this movie does to differentiate itself from the current crop of werewolf and vampire movies, books, and TV shows. There are only two werewolves in the movie, and the movie shows how brutal and tragic it is too be one. Because there is a small number of monsters, each one gets to be as brutal as possible. You ever notice how a vampire or a werewolf's power seems to diminish has the number of them grows. You have to balance the power in order to tell a compelling story and that is why you get relatively weak monsters in the True Blood, Underworld, or Buffy universes. Oh sure, they may have some powers, but there are always other monsters to balance that power and make it seem weaker. Not here. When you only have one (or two), the brutality quotient goes up. Also, there's nothing sexy about being a werewolf. Sorry girls, no hairless man boys who instantly transform into pretty dogs, You get hairy, middle aged men horribly contorting into ugly man-wolf hybrids who rip off limbs, slash throats, and spill guts like it's going out of style. And that should make any horror movie lover happy.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Nerd alert! Why star trek is the worst/best movie of 2009
Ok, it's been a few days and I am feeling a little guilty about my lack of productivity. Rest assured dear readers, my absence as been due to an ongoing search for gainful employment, and not due to a lack of desire to dazzle you with my random articles about stuff I want to talk about. (so far, being witty and awesome does not pay bills) Oh, and I was watching the Super Bowl last Sunday. Yay Saints!
Anyway, in my spare time, I have been thinking, and I have come to a conclusion; the JJ Abrams Star Trek movie is the worst/best movie of the year. When I say best, I mean I saw it in the theatre 3 times, and I had a blast. Growing up, I had seen all the old star trek movies, but I had never watched any of the shows. When an older sibling likes something, it's easy to write it off as "lame" in order to establish your own identity. But the new Star Trek got me so excited that I began to borrow several of the series' from friends or the public library. After 2 and half seasons of Star Trek: the Next Generation, and about 3 seasons of Star Trek: Deep Space 9, I have to conclude that the shows contain far superior story telling than the movie.
Now I have by no means become a trekkie (yet). The old shows do seem painfully dated at times and can fall into low points that make you cringe. But what the old shows lack in special effects, they make up for in creating a far more interesting world than the black and white future in JJ Abrams shiny new Trek. One of the complaints many people apparently had with the shows was that there was a lack of action and an excess of plot. While this is occasionally true, more often than not, the two series I've mentioned contain a rather thrilling amount of danger and intrigue. What the tv series' lack in production values, they make up for in following one simple rule, explosions and action sequences do not equal a compelling narrative. With a vision of the future based on diplomacy and politics, the threat of war always looms large. Peace is something to constantly maintain, something to fight for, and never a given. Because the shows focus on character and the struggle not to fight, they are far more compelling in the long run than a future of shoot first, plot later. The threat of extreme action should build tension, but the viewer should ultimately hope against all out war. We want see our heroes succeed with words rather than bombs. JJ Abrams wanted a vision of Star Trek where the promise of action was fulfilled, and, upon reflection, I find this approach tacky. It's easy to create drama by blowing up something, it is far harder and more rewarding to maintain the promise of destruction with the hope of resolution. To Create a world where diplomatic solutions are not possible or laughed at is a counter to everything Star Trek seems to represent.
My favorite Original Cast movie hands down was Star Trek VI: the Undiscovered Country. As a cold war allegory, you have the crew struggling to preserve a fragile peace between two hostile empires. Ultimately, the conspirators are found and diplomacy prevails. The plot is intriguing and exciting without a snow monster chase. In the new Trek we have bad guy on killing spree, so let's kill him back. It's two dimensional and much less rewarding in the long run.
With the new Start Trek, you get a very well done summer movie, with a great ensemble cast, and I think it fits in fairly well with the universe of the original Cast films. But it is a shame that the film has abandoned the subtlety that made the series so memorable in the first place. Perhaps this will be addressed in the sequels, but as long as they are written by the two buffoons responsible for Transformers 2, I doubt they possess the maturity to tell a better story that is more exciting than the first film and contains fewer action set pieces.
What has me so ambivalent about the new Star Trek is that it did what it set out to do, which is to bring new fans into the Star Trek universe (myself being a prime example). But now that I am discovering the old shows, I feel like someone promised my candy and slipped me steak dinner instead. I'm grateful for the steak, but suddenly the candy that looked so good pales in comparison. I will continue to struggle with my feelings about the movie as I own it on blu-ray and it's still quite fun to watch, but I will always begrudge it a little for trying to make Star Trek into Star Wars. Given the choice of which galaxy I prefer, I'll choose the one without Jar Jar Binks every time. That's enough nerd rant for now, I'll try to do better next time.
Anyway, in my spare time, I have been thinking, and I have come to a conclusion; the JJ Abrams Star Trek movie is the worst/best movie of the year. When I say best, I mean I saw it in the theatre 3 times, and I had a blast. Growing up, I had seen all the old star trek movies, but I had never watched any of the shows. When an older sibling likes something, it's easy to write it off as "lame" in order to establish your own identity. But the new Star Trek got me so excited that I began to borrow several of the series' from friends or the public library. After 2 and half seasons of Star Trek: the Next Generation, and about 3 seasons of Star Trek: Deep Space 9, I have to conclude that the shows contain far superior story telling than the movie.
Now I have by no means become a trekkie (yet). The old shows do seem painfully dated at times and can fall into low points that make you cringe. But what the old shows lack in special effects, they make up for in creating a far more interesting world than the black and white future in JJ Abrams shiny new Trek. One of the complaints many people apparently had with the shows was that there was a lack of action and an excess of plot. While this is occasionally true, more often than not, the two series I've mentioned contain a rather thrilling amount of danger and intrigue. What the tv series' lack in production values, they make up for in following one simple rule, explosions and action sequences do not equal a compelling narrative. With a vision of the future based on diplomacy and politics, the threat of war always looms large. Peace is something to constantly maintain, something to fight for, and never a given. Because the shows focus on character and the struggle not to fight, they are far more compelling in the long run than a future of shoot first, plot later. The threat of extreme action should build tension, but the viewer should ultimately hope against all out war. We want see our heroes succeed with words rather than bombs. JJ Abrams wanted a vision of Star Trek where the promise of action was fulfilled, and, upon reflection, I find this approach tacky. It's easy to create drama by blowing up something, it is far harder and more rewarding to maintain the promise of destruction with the hope of resolution. To Create a world where diplomatic solutions are not possible or laughed at is a counter to everything Star Trek seems to represent.
My favorite Original Cast movie hands down was Star Trek VI: the Undiscovered Country. As a cold war allegory, you have the crew struggling to preserve a fragile peace between two hostile empires. Ultimately, the conspirators are found and diplomacy prevails. The plot is intriguing and exciting without a snow monster chase. In the new Trek we have bad guy on killing spree, so let's kill him back. It's two dimensional and much less rewarding in the long run.
With the new Start Trek, you get a very well done summer movie, with a great ensemble cast, and I think it fits in fairly well with the universe of the original Cast films. But it is a shame that the film has abandoned the subtlety that made the series so memorable in the first place. Perhaps this will be addressed in the sequels, but as long as they are written by the two buffoons responsible for Transformers 2, I doubt they possess the maturity to tell a better story that is more exciting than the first film and contains fewer action set pieces.
What has me so ambivalent about the new Star Trek is that it did what it set out to do, which is to bring new fans into the Star Trek universe (myself being a prime example). But now that I am discovering the old shows, I feel like someone promised my candy and slipped me steak dinner instead. I'm grateful for the steak, but suddenly the candy that looked so good pales in comparison. I will continue to struggle with my feelings about the movie as I own it on blu-ray and it's still quite fun to watch, but I will always begrudge it a little for trying to make Star Trek into Star Wars. Given the choice of which galaxy I prefer, I'll choose the one without Jar Jar Binks every time. That's enough nerd rant for now, I'll try to do better next time.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Overreact much? My thoughts on the Lindsey Vonn SI cover
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/ronjuddsolympicsinsider/2010963997_lindsey_vonn_si_poster_girl.html
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/cover/featured/9313/index.htm
The above two links show two different SI Winter Olympics themed covers. The 1st will take you to this years cover showing Lindsey Vonn, the 2nd is a 1992 cover featuring A.J. Kitt. Guess which one people are upset about? Normally I don't like to talk about these supposed controversies, I find them silly and a waste of time. But this one really bothered me, and since I now have a blog, I thought I'd say my piece.
So Let's talk about the Lindsey Vonn picture. It is a shot of her, in full ski equipment, minus a helmet, looking at the camera and smiling while in her skiing pose. That's it. Yes, she is clearly in a photo shoot and not actually skiing downhill. What seems to bother people is that somehow, Ms. Vonn is being objectified in this picture. Why, because she's wearing makeup and has had her hair done for a publicity photo? This is not an objectification of anybody, this is a photo shoot designed to give a face to the 2010 US Olympic team. She is on the cover so Americans who don't follow downhill skiing will know who to cheer for. People like a name AND a face. She also happens to be arguably the best in her sport and is expected to win gold, which makes her an ideal cover athlete.
Quick, who was the face of the US Olympic team in 2008? If you said Michael Phelps you'd be right. What does he have in common with Lindsey Vonn: both are the very best in the sport, both participate in sports that are rarely followed outside of Olympic competition, both sports focus mainly on the accomplishments of the individual, and oh yes, both athlete are considered to be attractive. Why is this a problem? If you devote your life to being in fabulous shape so you can compete at the highest level, it is reasonably expected that you are at least fairly attractive.
By the way, here's Michael Phelps SI cover, you'll notice the photographer didn't go out of the way to prove he was wearing anything at all, except his gold medals.
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/multimedia/photo_gallery/0808/oly.michael.phelps.covers/content.1.html
So we have a male athlete, possibly naked on the cover, in a pose that has nothing to do with his sport, and this is fine. (I guarantee you he is also wearing makeup, it's kind of how a photo shoot works) However, a female athlete in her uniform, posing as if she's competing, but smiling at the camera with a tasteful amount of makeup is somehow objectifying to all women? I rather doubt it.
Some of you maybe wondering about the 1992 photo I mentioned. You'll notice A.J. Kitt has his racing helmet on. You'll also notice that this is a less personal photo. What we have is not a face to cheer for, but a shape with a name, an interchangeable figure to the casual observer. I promise you, if they put A.J. Kitt in a little blush and eye shadow and had him smile at the camera, people outside of the downhill skiing community would still remember him. So it not about sexual objectification, or anything else, The cover is about introducing America to it's champions, the ones who will represent the best of what America has to off. In that context, they should be objectified, but as an example of athletic and physical perfection, of hard work and perseverance, not as a sexual object on the cover. To suggest that the cover intended to be anything other than tasteful, is to see a sexual deviance in the photo that exists only in the eye of the beholder.
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/cover/featured/9313/index.htm
The above two links show two different SI Winter Olympics themed covers. The 1st will take you to this years cover showing Lindsey Vonn, the 2nd is a 1992 cover featuring A.J. Kitt. Guess which one people are upset about? Normally I don't like to talk about these supposed controversies, I find them silly and a waste of time. But this one really bothered me, and since I now have a blog, I thought I'd say my piece.
So Let's talk about the Lindsey Vonn picture. It is a shot of her, in full ski equipment, minus a helmet, looking at the camera and smiling while in her skiing pose. That's it. Yes, she is clearly in a photo shoot and not actually skiing downhill. What seems to bother people is that somehow, Ms. Vonn is being objectified in this picture. Why, because she's wearing makeup and has had her hair done for a publicity photo? This is not an objectification of anybody, this is a photo shoot designed to give a face to the 2010 US Olympic team. She is on the cover so Americans who don't follow downhill skiing will know who to cheer for. People like a name AND a face. She also happens to be arguably the best in her sport and is expected to win gold, which makes her an ideal cover athlete.
Quick, who was the face of the US Olympic team in 2008? If you said Michael Phelps you'd be right. What does he have in common with Lindsey Vonn: both are the very best in the sport, both participate in sports that are rarely followed outside of Olympic competition, both sports focus mainly on the accomplishments of the individual, and oh yes, both athlete are considered to be attractive. Why is this a problem? If you devote your life to being in fabulous shape so you can compete at the highest level, it is reasonably expected that you are at least fairly attractive.
By the way, here's Michael Phelps SI cover, you'll notice the photographer didn't go out of the way to prove he was wearing anything at all, except his gold medals.
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/multimedia/photo_gallery/0808/oly.michael.phelps.covers/content.1.html
So we have a male athlete, possibly naked on the cover, in a pose that has nothing to do with his sport, and this is fine. (I guarantee you he is also wearing makeup, it's kind of how a photo shoot works) However, a female athlete in her uniform, posing as if she's competing, but smiling at the camera with a tasteful amount of makeup is somehow objectifying to all women? I rather doubt it.
Some of you maybe wondering about the 1992 photo I mentioned. You'll notice A.J. Kitt has his racing helmet on. You'll also notice that this is a less personal photo. What we have is not a face to cheer for, but a shape with a name, an interchangeable figure to the casual observer. I promise you, if they put A.J. Kitt in a little blush and eye shadow and had him smile at the camera, people outside of the downhill skiing community would still remember him. So it not about sexual objectification, or anything else, The cover is about introducing America to it's champions, the ones who will represent the best of what America has to off. In that context, they should be objectified, but as an example of athletic and physical perfection, of hard work and perseverance, not as a sexual object on the cover. To suggest that the cover intended to be anything other than tasteful, is to see a sexual deviance in the photo that exists only in the eye of the beholder.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Some thoughts about "The Real"
Hey everyone, the Broadway show, PASSING STRANGE recently came out on DVD and I wanted to talk about it a little bit. For those who don't know, I got to see this show in New York during March of 2008 and it has stayed with me like no show ever has. If you're curious, please rent or buy the DVD. Spike Lee taped the final 3 performances at the Belasco Theater and he truly makes the show come to life. That said, I'm going to post some thoughts below that are message spoilers (I take a stab at the meaning of the show) and a few plot spoilers as well. You have been warned.
Passing Strange: The Real is a contruct.
“You know it’s weird that morning you wake up and realize that your entire adult life is based on the decision of a teenager - a stoned teenager?” -Stew (narrator)
Passing Strange is a play about the dangers of chasing transcendence, of seeking it as life rather than just a piece of it. Those of us who live our passion for art have an addiction to transcendent moments, that point where art, artist, and audience meet to create magic. It can happen on stage at a play, in a movie theatre, at a rock concert, and in a church. It is the shared moment, a moment of clarity, “the real.”
Passing Strange follows the story of Youth as he struggles to free himself of the oppression of middle class black America. His pursuit of art and sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll lead him first to Amsterdam and later to West Berlin in the 1980s. But Youth is full of excuses and unrest. He cannot stay in Amsterdam because this European paradise has dulled his pain and passion to create art. So he flees to Berlin, and reimagines himself as an authority on all of black culture, and an avant-garde artiste.
In L.A. he wasn’t black enough. He wouldn’t play up the stereotype. In Berlin, he passes as the “blackest” man around. His search for the real is always focused solely on art at the expense of his relationship and his own identity. Towards the end of the play, Youth declares, “life is a mistake, that only art can correct.” Youth attempts to rectify a love taken for granted by putting it onstage, to make it “real.” But art has limits. It cannot return lost time, and it cannot absolve the sin of forgetting the ones who love you. It is a heavy message, and a reminder to artists everywhere that “the real” is only the transcendence found in art. It is not life, and it is not reality. To turn your back on reality in favor of “the real” can result in a loss of the things that make “the real” worthwhile: a family to share it with. Our narrator tells the story of the pretzel man reminding him that “the real is not real. The real is a construct. The real is a creation. The real is artificial. The kid in your play is looking for something in life that can only be found in art.” I think this is a sentiment worth remembering as we strive in our own ways to bring “the real” into the world.
That's all for today, I'll try to do better next time.
p.s. in case you care, I give this show 5 stars, a gold sticker and an A+.
Passing Strange: The Real is a contruct.
“You know it’s weird that morning you wake up and realize that your entire adult life is based on the decision of a teenager - a stoned teenager?” -Stew (narrator)
Passing Strange is a play about the dangers of chasing transcendence, of seeking it as life rather than just a piece of it. Those of us who live our passion for art have an addiction to transcendent moments, that point where art, artist, and audience meet to create magic. It can happen on stage at a play, in a movie theatre, at a rock concert, and in a church. It is the shared moment, a moment of clarity, “the real.”
Passing Strange follows the story of Youth as he struggles to free himself of the oppression of middle class black America. His pursuit of art and sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll lead him first to Amsterdam and later to West Berlin in the 1980s. But Youth is full of excuses and unrest. He cannot stay in Amsterdam because this European paradise has dulled his pain and passion to create art. So he flees to Berlin, and reimagines himself as an authority on all of black culture, and an avant-garde artiste.
In L.A. he wasn’t black enough. He wouldn’t play up the stereotype. In Berlin, he passes as the “blackest” man around. His search for the real is always focused solely on art at the expense of his relationship and his own identity. Towards the end of the play, Youth declares, “life is a mistake, that only art can correct.” Youth attempts to rectify a love taken for granted by putting it onstage, to make it “real.” But art has limits. It cannot return lost time, and it cannot absolve the sin of forgetting the ones who love you. It is a heavy message, and a reminder to artists everywhere that “the real” is only the transcendence found in art. It is not life, and it is not reality. To turn your back on reality in favor of “the real” can result in a loss of the things that make “the real” worthwhile: a family to share it with. Our narrator tells the story of the pretzel man reminding him that “the real is not real. The real is a construct. The real is a creation. The real is artificial. The kid in your play is looking for something in life that can only be found in art.” I think this is a sentiment worth remembering as we strive in our own ways to bring “the real” into the world.
That's all for today, I'll try to do better next time.
p.s. in case you care, I give this show 5 stars, a gold sticker and an A+.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Review - Whip It
Told you I'd review a good movie. Here's my latest attempt at film criticism:
Whip it
4 out of 5 stars
The Good: Drew Barrymore takes a familiar storyline and gives us more than we expected
The Bad: You will have to watch Jimmy Fallon, which is not great, but not unbearable
The Ugly: Nothing really qualifies in this category but I will say that the movie starts rather blah.
Non Spoiler review - What begins as a typical teenager finding bliss story, actually becomes a pretty great movie. The movie follows Bliss, played by Ellen Page, who has been brought up to compete in various pageants. She finds out about a roller derby league in Austin, TX and quickly begins living a secret life as a roller derby star. This silly premise and basic plot would lead you to assume that this movie will be a same old, same old quirky comedy. That Drew Barrymore is the first time director of the film doesn't alleviate any doubts either. I was really worried about 5 minutes in. Bliss hates being in pageants, but you don't really know why. She's extremely shy and quiet and awkward for unknown reasons. Why am I starting a 4 star review that sounds like a 1 star movie? Because, it's not the pieces that make this a delightful movie, but the unexpected ways they are put together.
Once the roller derby plot kicks in, the movie takes off, in a cozy, sports comedy, underdog story way. But Ellen Page's Bliss turns out to be so hard to like in the beginning of the film because she is in fact not a complete person yet. She is instead an insecure 17 year girl trying to find her way in the world and she doesn't always make good decisions. In fact, the highlight of the movie to me was the way Bliss' actions had realistic consequences. Bliss doesn't make easy mistakes, and conflicts are not easily resolved. This is not to say that the movie isn't fun, because it is. It is actually made so much more enjoyable because Drew Barrymore gives a touching humanity to the main characters that makes you care about them in a way you wouldn't care for any of the characters in, say, Dodgeball (although I do love that movie). It helps that the always great Marcia Gay Harden plays Bliss' mom and a surprisingly good Daniel Stern plays Bliss' dad. That's right, Daniel Stern, Joe Pesci's sidekick in the Home Alone movies is a good actor. Likewise, SNL's Kristen Wiig continues to show that she deserves to get bigger roles and can be truly great when given a chance. This is Bad News Bears with a dash of Juno. It's a fun, familiar tale told with more heart and honesty that you'd expect and I highly recommend it.
Spoiler Section
For those who have seen the movie, or for those who won't see it even though you should, here are a couple of spoilery moments that really made me appreciate this movie. There comes a point in the movie where Bliss' parents find out what she's been up to. As with any movie where the lead as a big secret, it gets out. But then the film does something interesting. Bliss actually comes out of the scene looking like the one in the wrong. Her parents are understandably upset that she's been out all night (breaking into a building to hook up with her boyfriend) while her best friend has spent the night in jail. But Bliss' defense is not the defense of a screenwriter, she has no grand speech. She instead acts like a rebellious 17 year old who has lost respect for her parents and has become very self-involved. I almost cheered when, after claiming she does support herself, her mother looks her straight in the eyes and says, "No, you buy shoes." Having recently heard stories of kids thinking they know more than there parents, it was great to see someone with no perspective on how the real world works called on their shit. Bliss doesn't understand what it takes to support herself, and the movie pulls no punches in showing us that her new-found happiness has a price.
Their are two other moments between Bliss and her mother, a beauty queen turned mail carrier that are worth mentioning. The first is when Bliss returns home after running away and realizing her first love is actually a creep. Bliss' despair at giving away her virginity to someone who didn't even care about her is heartbreaking, especially as she tries to reveal this to her mother. It's a great moment, and a step towards reconciliation. But the last thing I want to talk about is that the movie doesn't tell us everything is going to be alright. It only leaves us hopeful. Marcia Gay Harden does a brilliant job at conveying the pain of watching her child make choices that won't give her a future. Bliss may have found hers, but we don't know how it will turn out, and we aren't sure that mother and daughter will ever really repair the damage. It is a much deeper relationship than you would expect, and the movie is that much stronger for it.
Whip it
4 out of 5 stars
The Good: Drew Barrymore takes a familiar storyline and gives us more than we expected
The Bad: You will have to watch Jimmy Fallon, which is not great, but not unbearable
The Ugly: Nothing really qualifies in this category but I will say that the movie starts rather blah.
Non Spoiler review - What begins as a typical teenager finding bliss story, actually becomes a pretty great movie. The movie follows Bliss, played by Ellen Page, who has been brought up to compete in various pageants. She finds out about a roller derby league in Austin, TX and quickly begins living a secret life as a roller derby star. This silly premise and basic plot would lead you to assume that this movie will be a same old, same old quirky comedy. That Drew Barrymore is the first time director of the film doesn't alleviate any doubts either. I was really worried about 5 minutes in. Bliss hates being in pageants, but you don't really know why. She's extremely shy and quiet and awkward for unknown reasons. Why am I starting a 4 star review that sounds like a 1 star movie? Because, it's not the pieces that make this a delightful movie, but the unexpected ways they are put together.
Once the roller derby plot kicks in, the movie takes off, in a cozy, sports comedy, underdog story way. But Ellen Page's Bliss turns out to be so hard to like in the beginning of the film because she is in fact not a complete person yet. She is instead an insecure 17 year girl trying to find her way in the world and she doesn't always make good decisions. In fact, the highlight of the movie to me was the way Bliss' actions had realistic consequences. Bliss doesn't make easy mistakes, and conflicts are not easily resolved. This is not to say that the movie isn't fun, because it is. It is actually made so much more enjoyable because Drew Barrymore gives a touching humanity to the main characters that makes you care about them in a way you wouldn't care for any of the characters in, say, Dodgeball (although I do love that movie). It helps that the always great Marcia Gay Harden plays Bliss' mom and a surprisingly good Daniel Stern plays Bliss' dad. That's right, Daniel Stern, Joe Pesci's sidekick in the Home Alone movies is a good actor. Likewise, SNL's Kristen Wiig continues to show that she deserves to get bigger roles and can be truly great when given a chance. This is Bad News Bears with a dash of Juno. It's a fun, familiar tale told with more heart and honesty that you'd expect and I highly recommend it.
Spoiler Section
For those who have seen the movie, or for those who won't see it even though you should, here are a couple of spoilery moments that really made me appreciate this movie. There comes a point in the movie where Bliss' parents find out what she's been up to. As with any movie where the lead as a big secret, it gets out. But then the film does something interesting. Bliss actually comes out of the scene looking like the one in the wrong. Her parents are understandably upset that she's been out all night (breaking into a building to hook up with her boyfriend) while her best friend has spent the night in jail. But Bliss' defense is not the defense of a screenwriter, she has no grand speech. She instead acts like a rebellious 17 year old who has lost respect for her parents and has become very self-involved. I almost cheered when, after claiming she does support herself, her mother looks her straight in the eyes and says, "No, you buy shoes." Having recently heard stories of kids thinking they know more than there parents, it was great to see someone with no perspective on how the real world works called on their shit. Bliss doesn't understand what it takes to support herself, and the movie pulls no punches in showing us that her new-found happiness has a price.
Their are two other moments between Bliss and her mother, a beauty queen turned mail carrier that are worth mentioning. The first is when Bliss returns home after running away and realizing her first love is actually a creep. Bliss' despair at giving away her virginity to someone who didn't even care about her is heartbreaking, especially as she tries to reveal this to her mother. It's a great moment, and a step towards reconciliation. But the last thing I want to talk about is that the movie doesn't tell us everything is going to be alright. It only leaves us hopeful. Marcia Gay Harden does a brilliant job at conveying the pain of watching her child make choices that won't give her a future. Bliss may have found hers, but we don't know how it will turn out, and we aren't sure that mother and daughter will ever really repair the damage. It is a much deeper relationship than you would expect, and the movie is that much stronger for it.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Schadenfreude or why certain people's failure makes me so happy
Hello internet! As the dust has settled and the Super Bowl teams are set, I'd like to reflect upon just how vindicated I felt watching the Vikings lose on Sunday. For many people, Brett Favre getting one last shot at the Super Bowl was a great story; Shunned by his former team, he got revenge on the people who screwed him and said he wasn't good enough, and now he would take their most hated rivals to the Super Bowl and go out a legend. Finally, the poor, suffering fans of Minnesota would be champions and they would never let anyone call them loser again. There's just one problem. Brett Favre and the Vikings are not really the heroes in this scenario.
Let us go back two years; Brett had just cost the Packers another shot at the Super Bowl by throwing an interception on overtime that he didn't need to throw. Then he retired, Packer nation was very sad, but happy for all the good times. It seemed like a good time for him to go. He'd spent the last 3 seasons toying around with the idea, so it was also a relief for fans to know that Brett was definitely done. Now we could remember when and start working on a bronze statue of him to put outside Lambeau Field. At this point, Brett was still thought to be a stand up guy, honest and loyal. We ignored little warning signs like his addiction to pain pills because he was just doing it to be able to play on Sunday and help the team win. We understood that.
Then things got a little fishy. Since Brett had retired, the entire state and half the country engaged in trying to sum up the legacy of the great Brett Favre, the iron man with all the records. In a movie, the story ends here. But the problem with sports is that these wonderful storylines almost never play out. After the Packers drafted two quarterbacks and started making plans without Brett, he then decides he might want to come back and play again. This is where some people say,"after all he did for you wouldn't you let him back" Actually no. What we have is a Jay Leno / Conan O'Brien situation. Brett is Jay wanting to come back and take his replacements job because he misses the power and doesn't realize his time there is done. Aaron Rodgers is Conan, the guy waiting in the wings for his shot. The difference is, Green Bay decided, wisely, that the Packers are a multi-million dollar (if not billion dollar, I don't have my charts in front of me) business and it's not wise to give control to one employee. They said, "Sorry Brett, we can't turn the ship around, after all, YOU TOLD US ALL TO GO ON WITH OUT YOU, and idiots we are, we took you at your word. Now this is where the Vikings come into play, allegedly (but also, actually) calling Brett and telling him to come get traded to the Vikings. Like Iago to Othello, they convinced an already flawed man to commit a heinous act.
There are certain unspoken rules in football, and one of them is this, "if you are a hall of fame, face of your franchise legend, thou shalt not play for the rival team. Fran Tarkenton didn't play for the Packers, Bart Starr didn't play for the Bears, Mike Ditka doesn't believe in the color purple (the actual color, not the award winning movie and play). I'm convinced that Brett from the day he realized that his power as a player did not include a general manager position, he became bent on revenge for a slight that never happened. He openly asked for a trade to the Vikings, then he sort of played a year at the Jets, got their coach fired (which worked out ok for them in the end) and planned his revenge. Don't tell me Brad Childress had to beg Brett to play. He had to beg Brett to openly betray the team and state that loved him. bv appearing uncertain, he got to pretend this was a hard decision, and not something 18 months in the planning. But it was an out and out betrayal of the fans who supported him and believed in him. You may think the fans aren't important, that they don't get to be a part of the team, but a football game with no fans is just a scrimage. A football team with no fans doesn't get to buy a big ol' mansion and retire at 40. The fans are the most important, and Brett lost sight of that and turned his back on them to prove a point to a GM who dared to think beyond one player and look at the long term interests of the team.
Yes, Brett proved that he could still play, yes, he beat the Packers twice, convincingly. But he still didn't get the Vikings to the Super Bowl, and he still failed his team when they needed him most, and asked him to do the least. He only needed a few yards to let Ryan Longwell kick a field goal. As a team mate, his duty to the team was to take care of the ball and let the team win. As was so often the case, Brett tried to be a team unto himself, and win for himself. He pushed too far, forgot the meaning of a team, and failed. Like the Vikings so often do, they failed as a team because they fail to play as a team. So yes, I laughed, and laughed, and laughed some more when Brett lost the game. He had given me the greatest gift a Packer fan could hope for, he once again made the Vikings lose in a hilariously painful way. so for that Brett, I thank you. For everything else over the past 2.5 years, you lost the right to be a Packer in my eyes. And you know when a partially employed, amateur blogger looks down on you, that means . . . well probably nothing, but still, what kind of loser plays for the Vikings on purpose anyway?
Let us go back two years; Brett had just cost the Packers another shot at the Super Bowl by throwing an interception on overtime that he didn't need to throw. Then he retired, Packer nation was very sad, but happy for all the good times. It seemed like a good time for him to go. He'd spent the last 3 seasons toying around with the idea, so it was also a relief for fans to know that Brett was definitely done. Now we could remember when and start working on a bronze statue of him to put outside Lambeau Field. At this point, Brett was still thought to be a stand up guy, honest and loyal. We ignored little warning signs like his addiction to pain pills because he was just doing it to be able to play on Sunday and help the team win. We understood that.
Then things got a little fishy. Since Brett had retired, the entire state and half the country engaged in trying to sum up the legacy of the great Brett Favre, the iron man with all the records. In a movie, the story ends here. But the problem with sports is that these wonderful storylines almost never play out. After the Packers drafted two quarterbacks and started making plans without Brett, he then decides he might want to come back and play again. This is where some people say,"after all he did for you wouldn't you let him back" Actually no. What we have is a Jay Leno / Conan O'Brien situation. Brett is Jay wanting to come back and take his replacements job because he misses the power and doesn't realize his time there is done. Aaron Rodgers is Conan, the guy waiting in the wings for his shot. The difference is, Green Bay decided, wisely, that the Packers are a multi-million dollar (if not billion dollar, I don't have my charts in front of me) business and it's not wise to give control to one employee. They said, "Sorry Brett, we can't turn the ship around, after all, YOU TOLD US ALL TO GO ON WITH OUT YOU, and idiots we are, we took you at your word. Now this is where the Vikings come into play, allegedly (but also, actually) calling Brett and telling him to come get traded to the Vikings. Like Iago to Othello, they convinced an already flawed man to commit a heinous act.
There are certain unspoken rules in football, and one of them is this, "if you are a hall of fame, face of your franchise legend, thou shalt not play for the rival team. Fran Tarkenton didn't play for the Packers, Bart Starr didn't play for the Bears, Mike Ditka doesn't believe in the color purple (the actual color, not the award winning movie and play). I'm convinced that Brett from the day he realized that his power as a player did not include a general manager position, he became bent on revenge for a slight that never happened. He openly asked for a trade to the Vikings, then he sort of played a year at the Jets, got their coach fired (which worked out ok for them in the end) and planned his revenge. Don't tell me Brad Childress had to beg Brett to play. He had to beg Brett to openly betray the team and state that loved him. bv appearing uncertain, he got to pretend this was a hard decision, and not something 18 months in the planning. But it was an out and out betrayal of the fans who supported him and believed in him. You may think the fans aren't important, that they don't get to be a part of the team, but a football game with no fans is just a scrimage. A football team with no fans doesn't get to buy a big ol' mansion and retire at 40. The fans are the most important, and Brett lost sight of that and turned his back on them to prove a point to a GM who dared to think beyond one player and look at the long term interests of the team.
Yes, Brett proved that he could still play, yes, he beat the Packers twice, convincingly. But he still didn't get the Vikings to the Super Bowl, and he still failed his team when they needed him most, and asked him to do the least. He only needed a few yards to let Ryan Longwell kick a field goal. As a team mate, his duty to the team was to take care of the ball and let the team win. As was so often the case, Brett tried to be a team unto himself, and win for himself. He pushed too far, forgot the meaning of a team, and failed. Like the Vikings so often do, they failed as a team because they fail to play as a team. So yes, I laughed, and laughed, and laughed some more when Brett lost the game. He had given me the greatest gift a Packer fan could hope for, he once again made the Vikings lose in a hilariously painful way. so for that Brett, I thank you. For everything else over the past 2.5 years, you lost the right to be a Packer in my eyes. And you know when a partially employed, amateur blogger looks down on you, that means . . . well probably nothing, but still, what kind of loser plays for the Vikings on purpose anyway?
New Blog Woes
Today's random post will be shorter. Basically it's me begging for patience as I play around with format and such. I just changed the template, What do you think? Also, I'm slowly learning what all these settings and buttons mean. Not being a very computer literate guy beyond basic word docs and windows media player, all these words and phrases make my brain squishy until I just want to hulk out and smash my blog. Except you can't really smash something that only exists in the internet. I mean, even if I threw my laptop at the wall, the blog would still exist. Anyway, I'm basically just writing out of guilt right now seeing as how not much is happening to make me want to write, rant, or judge. I should have some more blog posts up soon as I strike out on my new job as event DJ. Woohoo! Also, I hope to add advertising to the blog soon, but that will only happen if more people start to read. So if you get people to read, I swear I'll write better blogs. See how this works, it's like blackmail, "help me grow more powerful or face my word vomit, AHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Ok, seriously, I'm done for now, and I'll do better next time.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Review - The Book of Eli
I Swear some day I will review a good movie, until then, please enjoy my review of THE BOOK OF ELI, it will be shorter and have less slow motion than the movie, I promise.
Quick review:
2 stars out of 5
the good - action sequences a very well done and Densel Washington is pretty bad ass
the bad - Gary Oldman gives his worst performance of his career, the movie's subject matter makes the viewer certain there will be a heavy handed message, and they'd be right.
the ugly - movie has zero sense of fun, and more slow motion walking than any movie ever made. It's basically Waterworld, but in desert.
The movie's called THE BOOK OF ELI. It's about a lone man (Densel Washington) in a post-apocalyptic wasteland on journey to protect a book from motorcycle rapist cannibals and Gary Oldman. Also, Meg Griffin is in the movie (that's not a jab a Mila Kunis, it's a jab at the worthlessness of her character). The Book has power and Gary Oldman wants it. For those of you with any religious background you can probably figure out what book Densel's character Eli is carrying. If I remind you this is an American movie, you should only need one guess. (SPOILERS) That's right, Eli is protecting the last Bible in existence. Because after the bombs went off, everyone decided that the Bible was to blame and so humanity destroyed every one except the one Eli is protecting.
First of all, regardless of my personal and complicated thoughts about religion, it is stupid on an unbelievable scale to suppose that humanity would ever be able to eradicate the Bible, or the Torah, or the Koran, or any other holy book for that matter. The thing about faith is that it always finds a way to endure and actually grows stronger in a time of desperation. The saying "there are no atheists in foxholes" has nothing to do with the power of God but everything to do with the fact that people in a powerless situation need to put there trust in something greater than themselves.
(END SPOILERS AND RANT) But I digress, Eli is traveling along, protected by the power of the book, which means he gets to be Jason Statham, Rambo, the Terminator, and Batman all rolled into one when he has the book on him. Unsurprisingly, he draws the attention of one Carnegie played but Gary Oldman. Carnegie is impressed that Eli can kill his employees with ease and offers him a job, which is an interesting way to get hired. Somehow I doubt beating up active duty security personnel would land me a job offer, not matter how rapey they were acting. Blah, Blah, Blah, Carnegie tries to kill Eli multiple times and (SPOILER) loses most of his henchmen in the process. (END SPOILER) Once Eli is on the run from Carnegie, he is followed by Meg Griffin, who promptly gets locked in a well, sexually assaulted, and taken hostage, you know, useful sidekick activities to keep the hero from doing anything constructive with his time. Blah Blah Blah, stupid plot twist, the movie ends. We are all meant to leave with some kind of hopeful feeling and deep thought. Mostly I was just pissed that an 80 minute plot was stretched to two hours by adding 40 minutes of characters in sun glasses, with weapons, walking in slow motion through a desert wasteland. The movie, is dark, depressing, and self-important. Eli is a man of faith, but not a man of many morals. Oh sure, he follows the two major ones, don't rape and kill woman, but he's behavior is often questionable if not outright cruel or irresponsible. In this way, he is very much like the old biblical heroes, many of whom performed as many reprehensible acts as they did good. In many cases there very status as heroes would be debatable to our modern sensibilities. Taken in this light, THE BOOK OF ELI can be seen as a modern biblical fable told in an ancient style. The heroes are faithful and heroic, but messy, and the villains are worse. But intellectually stimulating as that might be, you still have a rather awful movie, with very little to say.
(Ranting and spoilers to follow) No review would be complete without discussing the ending. So Here it is, Eli is blind. Yeah, he's actually Daredevil. and the Book? it's in Braille. So when Gary Oldman finally gets the book, the one he sacrificed his whole security force to get, he can't read it. Also, his town revolts and kills him. Meanwhile, Eli and Meg Griffin have made it to Alcatraz where Malcolm McDowell, who looks like he should be locked up there, is building a library so we can rebuild the world. Thankfully, Eli has memorized the Bible and recites it to crazy hair Malcolm who just happens to have found a FRICKIN' GUTENBERG PRINTING PRESS IN THE APOCALYPTIC WASTELAND OF NORTH AMERICA AND DRAGGED THE HEAVY BASTARD OUT TO ALCATRAZ ON A DINGHY!!!! So the final shot of the movie is the Bible, the most powerful book in the world according to this movie, reprinted into a leather bound book (where did the leather come from? I bet it was dead cannibals.) and place on the shelf next to the Koran and the Torah, and some other eastern religious stuff. This final shot really looks like a lame attempt to pretend that the entire 120 minutes preceding it wasn't about how the Bible is the greatest book ever. "Please don't get mad, billions of non-Christians throughout the world. See? we put it between the Koran and the Torah, because those books are special too! What's that non-Abrahamic faiths? Where's your book, try the Blasphemy for Dummies section, am I right guys? Guys? What?"
Quick review:
2 stars out of 5
the good - action sequences a very well done and Densel Washington is pretty bad ass
the bad - Gary Oldman gives his worst performance of his career, the movie's subject matter makes the viewer certain there will be a heavy handed message, and they'd be right.
the ugly - movie has zero sense of fun, and more slow motion walking than any movie ever made. It's basically Waterworld, but in desert.
The movie's called THE BOOK OF ELI. It's about a lone man (Densel Washington) in a post-apocalyptic wasteland on journey to protect a book from motorcycle rapist cannibals and Gary Oldman. Also, Meg Griffin is in the movie (that's not a jab a Mila Kunis, it's a jab at the worthlessness of her character). The Book has power and Gary Oldman wants it. For those of you with any religious background you can probably figure out what book Densel's character Eli is carrying. If I remind you this is an American movie, you should only need one guess. (SPOILERS) That's right, Eli is protecting the last Bible in existence. Because after the bombs went off, everyone decided that the Bible was to blame and so humanity destroyed every one except the one Eli is protecting.
First of all, regardless of my personal and complicated thoughts about religion, it is stupid on an unbelievable scale to suppose that humanity would ever be able to eradicate the Bible, or the Torah, or the Koran, or any other holy book for that matter. The thing about faith is that it always finds a way to endure and actually grows stronger in a time of desperation. The saying "there are no atheists in foxholes" has nothing to do with the power of God but everything to do with the fact that people in a powerless situation need to put there trust in something greater than themselves.
(END SPOILERS AND RANT) But I digress, Eli is traveling along, protected by the power of the book, which means he gets to be Jason Statham, Rambo, the Terminator, and Batman all rolled into one when he has the book on him. Unsurprisingly, he draws the attention of one Carnegie played but Gary Oldman. Carnegie is impressed that Eli can kill his employees with ease and offers him a job, which is an interesting way to get hired. Somehow I doubt beating up active duty security personnel would land me a job offer, not matter how rapey they were acting. Blah, Blah, Blah, Carnegie tries to kill Eli multiple times and (SPOILER) loses most of his henchmen in the process. (END SPOILER) Once Eli is on the run from Carnegie, he is followed by Meg Griffin, who promptly gets locked in a well, sexually assaulted, and taken hostage, you know, useful sidekick activities to keep the hero from doing anything constructive with his time. Blah Blah Blah, stupid plot twist, the movie ends. We are all meant to leave with some kind of hopeful feeling and deep thought. Mostly I was just pissed that an 80 minute plot was stretched to two hours by adding 40 minutes of characters in sun glasses, with weapons, walking in slow motion through a desert wasteland. The movie, is dark, depressing, and self-important. Eli is a man of faith, but not a man of many morals. Oh sure, he follows the two major ones, don't rape and kill woman, but he's behavior is often questionable if not outright cruel or irresponsible. In this way, he is very much like the old biblical heroes, many of whom performed as many reprehensible acts as they did good. In many cases there very status as heroes would be debatable to our modern sensibilities. Taken in this light, THE BOOK OF ELI can be seen as a modern biblical fable told in an ancient style. The heroes are faithful and heroic, but messy, and the villains are worse. But intellectually stimulating as that might be, you still have a rather awful movie, with very little to say.
(Ranting and spoilers to follow) No review would be complete without discussing the ending. So Here it is, Eli is blind. Yeah, he's actually Daredevil. and the Book? it's in Braille. So when Gary Oldman finally gets the book, the one he sacrificed his whole security force to get, he can't read it. Also, his town revolts and kills him. Meanwhile, Eli and Meg Griffin have made it to Alcatraz where Malcolm McDowell, who looks like he should be locked up there, is building a library so we can rebuild the world. Thankfully, Eli has memorized the Bible and recites it to crazy hair Malcolm who just happens to have found a FRICKIN' GUTENBERG PRINTING PRESS IN THE APOCALYPTIC WASTELAND OF NORTH AMERICA AND DRAGGED THE HEAVY BASTARD OUT TO ALCATRAZ ON A DINGHY!!!! So the final shot of the movie is the Bible, the most powerful book in the world according to this movie, reprinted into a leather bound book (where did the leather come from? I bet it was dead cannibals.) and place on the shelf next to the Koran and the Torah, and some other eastern religious stuff. This final shot really looks like a lame attempt to pretend that the entire 120 minutes preceding it wasn't about how the Bible is the greatest book ever. "Please don't get mad, billions of non-Christians throughout the world. See? we put it between the Koran and the Torah, because those books are special too! What's that non-Abrahamic faiths? Where's your book, try the Blasphemy for Dummies section, am I right guys? Guys? What?"
review - 500 Days of Summer
Welcome, readers, to my first movie review! Today's today's film is Marc Webbs' directorial debut, 500 DAYS OF SUMMER. First my quick review
Overall - 2.5 out of 5 stars
The Good - deals with relationships in a very real and familiar way that can be very
touching at times
The Bad - doesn't really delve beyond the surface of the characters
The Ugly - Ultimately way to indie for it's own good, including a 12 year-old girl
giving sage advice, and the last line of the film will make you puke.
Extended take (may include spoilers)
For those of you who don't know, 500 Days of Summer is about the 500 days Tom is in love with, dating and getting over the girl of his dreams, Summer. Get it - 500 days of Summer, it's like a pun, isn't that cute and clever? Well, personally I think that depends on execution and balance between honesty and annoying indie preciousness. In this film the latter is used way to often as a cover for the film's lack of depth.
To begin with, the film as a whole feels like the director's personal examination of his own romantic history. This isn't bad in and of itself. In fact, the relationship between Tom and Summer was very reminiscent of my own dating history in high school. For me it was very easy to relate to the guy looking for the girl of his dreams and seeing it in someone who is so obviously not right for him. I imagine most people at one time or another have had the experience of falling for someone who is not looking for a serious relationship. Tom believes he will be the one to change Summer and make her want to be in a serious relationship. But here's the thing (spoilers) people who say they don't want a serious relationship often mean just that. Watching Tom misinterpret signals and see things in Summer that aren't there is both humorous and heartbreaking. This is the film biggest strength.
What brings the film down is that, because you sense the source material is immensely person, the film pulls its punches and fails to let you get too close to the characters. When Tom and Summer break up (not a spoiler, it's like the first scene in the movie) She describes there relationship being like Sid and Nancy, where she is Sid Vicious and Tom is Nancy. A quote like that makes you feel like you could be in for some pretty intense fighting later on, as we learn about how the relationship breaks apart. It is, however, just a cheap joke pandering to the hipster crowd. There is no fighting in the movie, really. Tom yells one time that we see, and the fight is quickly resolved. Again and again, Tom talks about his relationship has if it is an epic romance, when really, Summer is just some girl he's in love with. I think this is very intentional, we are meant to see that despite the strong feelings Tom has, This whole relationship is relatively unremarkable. The problem is that the film goes out of its way to tell us how amazing Summer is while insisting she's just a girl. The after-school special narrations, cutesy post coital dance numbers, etc . . . are all placed to tell us that even thought she's just a girl, Summer is special. Well, she's not. at all. I love Zooey Deschanel, but her character in this movie is just another independent woman who is afraid to let Tom get too close. She is protective of her personal space, which is fine and human and normal. But from the beginning of the movie until the god-awful last line of the film, 500 days of summer insists on being more important than it is, while trying to be in on the joke at the same time, leaving the viewer drenched in way too much hipster high concept cliche.
On a final note, the guy who directed this film will be responsible for making Spiderman broody and dark and ironic, God help us all.
Overall - 2.5 out of 5 stars
The Good - deals with relationships in a very real and familiar way that can be very
touching at times
The Bad - doesn't really delve beyond the surface of the characters
The Ugly - Ultimately way to indie for it's own good, including a 12 year-old girl
giving sage advice, and the last line of the film will make you puke.
Extended take (may include spoilers)
For those of you who don't know, 500 Days of Summer is about the 500 days Tom is in love with, dating and getting over the girl of his dreams, Summer. Get it - 500 days of Summer, it's like a pun, isn't that cute and clever? Well, personally I think that depends on execution and balance between honesty and annoying indie preciousness. In this film the latter is used way to often as a cover for the film's lack of depth.
To begin with, the film as a whole feels like the director's personal examination of his own romantic history. This isn't bad in and of itself. In fact, the relationship between Tom and Summer was very reminiscent of my own dating history in high school. For me it was very easy to relate to the guy looking for the girl of his dreams and seeing it in someone who is so obviously not right for him. I imagine most people at one time or another have had the experience of falling for someone who is not looking for a serious relationship. Tom believes he will be the one to change Summer and make her want to be in a serious relationship. But here's the thing (spoilers) people who say they don't want a serious relationship often mean just that. Watching Tom misinterpret signals and see things in Summer that aren't there is both humorous and heartbreaking. This is the film biggest strength.
What brings the film down is that, because you sense the source material is immensely person, the film pulls its punches and fails to let you get too close to the characters. When Tom and Summer break up (not a spoiler, it's like the first scene in the movie) She describes there relationship being like Sid and Nancy, where she is Sid Vicious and Tom is Nancy. A quote like that makes you feel like you could be in for some pretty intense fighting later on, as we learn about how the relationship breaks apart. It is, however, just a cheap joke pandering to the hipster crowd. There is no fighting in the movie, really. Tom yells one time that we see, and the fight is quickly resolved. Again and again, Tom talks about his relationship has if it is an epic romance, when really, Summer is just some girl he's in love with. I think this is very intentional, we are meant to see that despite the strong feelings Tom has, This whole relationship is relatively unremarkable. The problem is that the film goes out of its way to tell us how amazing Summer is while insisting she's just a girl. The after-school special narrations, cutesy post coital dance numbers, etc . . . are all placed to tell us that even thought she's just a girl, Summer is special. Well, she's not. at all. I love Zooey Deschanel, but her character in this movie is just another independent woman who is afraid to let Tom get too close. She is protective of her personal space, which is fine and human and normal. But from the beginning of the movie until the god-awful last line of the film, 500 days of summer insists on being more important than it is, while trying to be in on the joke at the same time, leaving the viewer drenched in way too much hipster high concept cliche.
On a final note, the guy who directed this film will be responsible for making Spiderman broody and dark and ironic, God help us all.
Scattered Aproach to cooking soup
One of the more pleasurable aspects of being unemployed is the ability to experiment with cooking during the day. I rather enjoy cooking, but unless I really want to make something specific, I prefer to make it up as a go along. Two nights ago was soup night at the apartment, and I successfully created a dish that is both indescribable and unrepeatable. It started with a simple batch of Strawberry Farms, Spicy Cajun gumbo soup mix. So I mixed it in the pot with the water. The soup was basically a plain gumbo broth so I had to add something to it, I started with
1 can of black beans
1 chicken breast fried in Famous Dave Chicken seasoning
I noticed that the broth itself smelled a little sandy and bland so I added the chicken pasta sauce from the previous night's experiment, that included:
Chicken fried in grape seed oil, with either salt and Pepper or Moroccan seasoning,
onion flakes
oregano
italian seasoning
tomato sauce
2 cans of diced tomatoes
fried and chopped spinach
diced olives
basil leaves
a dash of lemon extract
a small dash of Tabasco sauce
after adding that concoction, the sauce was still lacking in flavor, so I asked my girlfriend to help out, we then added
Chili Powder
salt
pepper
paprika
fennel
liquid smoke
Worcester sauce
Famous Dave's Texas Pit Barbacue sauce
Much Better, but all that salt and spice had off set the flavor a bit so we added
Bush's Baked Beans
Frozen Corn
Ditalini noodles
the soup then became so thick that heat could not penetrate the chicken and veggies at the bottom of the pot. When I went to stir the soup, the light bubbling shifted so swiftly into a heavy, heavy boil that I thought the whole pot was about to explode. Surely your thinking, I didn't add anything else? Yes I did; water. That seemed to thin the mixture out enough to downgrade it from hazardous waste, to edible food. Once the noodle softened up, we poured out to big bowls. But, not willing to stop adding to the experiment, I made the best move of the night by adding shredding cheese and sour cream, and dipping toast into it. Those of you who are not gagging now are probably wondering how it tasted. I'd love to describe it to you, but there are no words. I can only tell you that It. Was. Awesome!!! The closest I can think of is a sweet and spicy chili, but the sour cream and cheese (which turned out to be essential)caused some kind of reaction to make it really creamy and oh so drippy with stringy cheesiness. In fact, the ratio of drippy cheese texture to actually cheese was way out of balance, like the cheese turned everything it touched into cheese as well. I'd recommend it to you, but like I said earlier, this recipe is non repeatable.
Thanks for reading and I'll try to do better next time.
1 can of black beans
1 chicken breast fried in Famous Dave Chicken seasoning
I noticed that the broth itself smelled a little sandy and bland so I added the chicken pasta sauce from the previous night's experiment, that included:
Chicken fried in grape seed oil, with either salt and Pepper or Moroccan seasoning,
onion flakes
oregano
italian seasoning
tomato sauce
2 cans of diced tomatoes
fried and chopped spinach
diced olives
basil leaves
a dash of lemon extract
a small dash of Tabasco sauce
after adding that concoction, the sauce was still lacking in flavor, so I asked my girlfriend to help out, we then added
Chili Powder
salt
pepper
paprika
fennel
liquid smoke
Worcester sauce
Famous Dave's Texas Pit Barbacue sauce
Much Better, but all that salt and spice had off set the flavor a bit so we added
Bush's Baked Beans
Frozen Corn
Ditalini noodles
the soup then became so thick that heat could not penetrate the chicken and veggies at the bottom of the pot. When I went to stir the soup, the light bubbling shifted so swiftly into a heavy, heavy boil that I thought the whole pot was about to explode. Surely your thinking, I didn't add anything else? Yes I did; water. That seemed to thin the mixture out enough to downgrade it from hazardous waste, to edible food. Once the noodle softened up, we poured out to big bowls. But, not willing to stop adding to the experiment, I made the best move of the night by adding shredding cheese and sour cream, and dipping toast into it. Those of you who are not gagging now are probably wondering how it tasted. I'd love to describe it to you, but there are no words. I can only tell you that It. Was. Awesome!!! The closest I can think of is a sweet and spicy chili, but the sour cream and cheese (which turned out to be essential)caused some kind of reaction to make it really creamy and oh so drippy with stringy cheesiness. In fact, the ratio of drippy cheese texture to actually cheese was way out of balance, like the cheese turned everything it touched into cheese as well. I'd recommend it to you, but like I said earlier, this recipe is non repeatable.
Thanks for reading and I'll try to do better next time.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Review: Band of Skulls
As a music geek, I'm always looking for that next fix, that next record that knocks me off my feet and turns my world upside down. Today was a great day. While wondering through my local record store, maintaining a presence for the day someone quits and I finally get to be that music geek working in a record store, I wondered over to the listening station. I rarely listen to them but today, I record caught my eye; Band of Skulls. What? It sounds like just another boneheaded metal band with a grown man growling into a mic trying to scare little children. But I thought, "oh what the heck, I could use a laugh" So I hit Play on disc number six. The next thing I hear blew me away. Instead of some growling, angry metal, I got funky old hard rock, like Led Zeppelin and The Black Keys had a bastard child. The title track was just a massive, crunchy groove. So I bought it. The entire album flows seamlessly from awesome blues and hard rock grooves and guitar solos into quieter ballads that evoke Fleet Foxes or M. Ward, then you get an amazing disco rock track to make your shake your ass like there's no tomorrow. It is a rare treat today to find complete albums, with no weakness or filler, and Band of Skulls - Baby Darling Doll Face Honey is a big goopy double fudge sundae of a treat!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The First Post: the DJ's rant
Hello world, welcome to the first and soon to be buried archives blog post at A Scattered Approach. As I am starting slow, I wanted to talk about a pet peeve near and dear to my heart: bad professional DJs. Imagine if you will, a wedding; a nice Minnesota Norwegian Lutheran wedding. All of the family is there from little cousins and grandchildren running about, to the elderly aunts and uncles and grandparents. You're having a nice time, dancing to ABBA or YMCA, like you do at a family event. The songs are simple, fun, and everybody can dance to them. That's the point of a wedding dance; for everyone to have a good time. Eventually, the DJ is feeling a little frisky and decides, "what the hell?, I'm gonna spice it up a little bit!" and plays "Bust a Move" by Young MC. You know what, the crowd busts a move, there having a great time dancing to good old school g-rated hip hop. The are copious amounts of Norwegian blooded Lutherans shaking their booties like Polaroid pictures to songs written back when people still had Polaroid pictures to shake. The DJ plays some more 1980's hip hop: Sugar Hill Gang, MC Hammer (early 90's maybe but still.)
Now, at this point, a reasonable person might assume that the crowd just loves 80s novelty hip hop, and that's as far as we should go. Reasonable people would be wrong. The next song up: "DIRRTY" by Christina Aguilera and Redman. Nothing engages the Lutheran embarrassment mechanism quite like getting caught dancing to a song about getting wild and naked and drunk with strangers in a club with your 12 year-old cousin, youth pastor aunt and grandma all out on the dance floor at the same time. We've now gone from "come on fatso, and just bust a move" to "sweat until my clothes come off" A fun family party now feels a little creepy.
Ok, you say, but it's just one song, surely the DJ got the hint when he shamed everyone off the dancefloor? WRONG!!! Not only did he play the whole song, he followed it with 50 Cent's "In Da Club" that's right, grandma and grandson listening to "I'm in to havin' sex, I ain't in to making love, so come give me a hug." At this point we probably should have just shot the DJ and called it a night, because something broke in his brain and he continued to play more and more gangsta rap until everyone decided they'd rather go home and bathe instead of drinking with family members while listening to the next song about freaky meaningless sex.
The lesson in today's post is simply this: while I love a funky crunk jam as much as the next guy, the fun of gettin' crazy to Lil' Jon is inversely proportional to the numbers of close family members dancing with you. All I'm sayin' is keep the club jams in the club at least until Grandma takes the kids home. thanks for reading and I'll try to do better next time
Now, at this point, a reasonable person might assume that the crowd just loves 80s novelty hip hop, and that's as far as we should go. Reasonable people would be wrong. The next song up: "DIRRTY" by Christina Aguilera and Redman. Nothing engages the Lutheran embarrassment mechanism quite like getting caught dancing to a song about getting wild and naked and drunk with strangers in a club with your 12 year-old cousin, youth pastor aunt and grandma all out on the dance floor at the same time. We've now gone from "come on fatso, and just bust a move" to "sweat until my clothes come off" A fun family party now feels a little creepy.
Ok, you say, but it's just one song, surely the DJ got the hint when he shamed everyone off the dancefloor? WRONG!!! Not only did he play the whole song, he followed it with 50 Cent's "In Da Club" that's right, grandma and grandson listening to "I'm in to havin' sex, I ain't in to making love, so come give me a hug." At this point we probably should have just shot the DJ and called it a night, because something broke in his brain and he continued to play more and more gangsta rap until everyone decided they'd rather go home and bathe instead of drinking with family members while listening to the next song about freaky meaningless sex.
The lesson in today's post is simply this: while I love a funky crunk jam as much as the next guy, the fun of gettin' crazy to Lil' Jon is inversely proportional to the numbers of close family members dancing with you. All I'm sayin' is keep the club jams in the club at least until Grandma takes the kids home. thanks for reading and I'll try to do better next time
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