Movie Review: ZOMBIELAND

I caught this one for 3 bucks at The Crest, and while it's by no means a great movie, it was pretty damn fun. The writing was good, the zombie stuff was gory and hilarious, and there were a few serious moments that were completely genuine and moving. Although I enjoyed all of the principal actors, the best part of the movie--hands down--was Woody Harrelson. Watching him slaughter zombies with a grin on his face and a smart-ass comment on his lips was an absolute delight, and it made me wish for a sequel just so I could see more of him. ZOMBIELAND isn't on the same level as SHAUN OF THE DEAD, but I'm glad I got out of the house to see it. Definitely worth a rental.

Book and Movie Review: CHOKE

The opening sentence of the book says it all: "If you're going to read this, don't bother." It's intended as an ironic comment by the narrator, but it holds fairly true for the book itself. With its' themes of isolation, alienation, self-indulgence, self-delusion, self-destruction, gleeful anarchy, and mental illness, CHOKE feels very much like a sequel to FIGHT CLUB, except that this time the narrator has an actual human being wreaking havoc in his life (his mother), and not just a demented alter-ego. So much of this novel is rehashing the same arguments put forth in FIGHT CLUB (the crushing sterility of consumer culture; the emptiness of our safe, sanitized world; the failure of God and all subsequent Godheads; rebirth and re-creation through destruction; etc.) that I wondered why I liked this book so much back when it was first released.

I will say that although I didn't care for this particular book, I thoroughly enjoy Palahniuk's writing style. He often employs short sentences, sentence fragments, and aphoristic musings in his work, not to mention the fact that he is funny as hell. For example, describing a certain type of mental patient that resides on the same floor as the narrator's mother:

"A squirrel is someone who chews her food and then forgets what to do next. They forget how to swallow. Instead, she spits each chewed mouthful in her dress pocket. Or in her handbag. This is less cute than it sounds."

In all fairness, there were many parts of the book that I enjoyed (just now as I was searching for that last quote I kept stopping and re-reading bits that I remembered) but even as I think about the strength of the individual moments, what left a lasting impression is the whole, and that impression was less than stellar. Who knows, maybe you will feel differently.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, for a movie based on a book about a sex addict, they sure went out of their way to cut the balls off this story.

Every truly dark and unpleasant element of the novel is either absent from the film or sweetened up to make it more palatable, the flat black humor has been leavened with sight gags and "funny" music, and the character portrayals are soft and bland. (Although Sam Rockwell had the right look and attitude for the main role, he is about ten years too old, and the rest of the cast was so misplaced that I was left scratching my head.) I gave up on the movie after 45 minutes; life's too short.

Book Review: NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN

I had heard from several people that if you've seen the movie you have pretty much read the book, and this proved to be fairly true. (I actually credit the Coen Brothers for chopping the dialogue down to the bare minimum, because there were conversations in the book that felt overlong.) Since I saw the movie three times in the theatre and several times on DVD I wasn't able to fully experience the novel on its' own terms, but I'm still glad that I read it.

P.S. I should also note that despite the absence of a post-apocalyptic wasteland, this book is ten times as bleak as THE ROAD. That book, for all its grim imaginings, is about hope in the face of hopelessness. This novel, as the last paragraph makes clear, is about the absence of not only hope, but any order or sense to the universe at all. Harsh.

Book Review: SUMMERLAND

"The greatest stories contain every story."

I can't remember who said that (or if I just made it up) but it is certainly true of SUMMERLAND. Take everything you love about THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA and LORD OF THE RINGS, mix in a dollop of THE TALISMAN, throw in a bit of THE GOONIES, add a splash of FIELD OF DREAMS, and you've got yourself an exuberant adventure story that will make you feel--and wish--that you were twelve years old again.

I was enchanted by this book within the first half of the opening chapter, and there isn't even anything that exciting in those first few pages. I have come to expect outstanding writing from Michael Chabon (and this book is no exception) but what stands out to me here is that although children are this target audience, he doesn't dumb down the language or paint everything in broad, cheesy strokes to make it simple. Instead, he does what I wish more people would do, which is to trust that kids are smart and can follow a complex story, and will rise to the occasion if he gives them a challenging word here and there (unlike, say, the author of a certain series of books about a boy wizard, who couldn't write her way out of a wet high school newspaper). Chabon borrows elements from numerous sources to craft an epic tale of good and evil, weaving these patchwork pieces into a literary quilt that maintains its uniqueness. SUMMERLAND is storytelling at its' best, and I have no doubt that I will be re-reading it the near future.

Movie Review: THE LIMITS OF CONTROL

"I think it's more interesting, all the things one doesn't know, is more fascinating than the things one does know." - Jim Jarmusch

Based on that statement, THE LIMITS OF CONTROL is the most fascinating movie I have ever seen. Or to put it another way: I have no idea what happened in this movie. I mean, I know the events that transpired, but I cannot for the life of me figure out what actually happened, what this movie is supposed to be about. There is almost no dialogue from the central character (hell, there's barely any movement--he spends half the movie lying in bed, staring at the ceiling) and what little dialogue we get from the characters he meets is cryptic and repetitive, dealing primarily with the sensory memories of molecules and musical instruments. (The underlying message of these conversations is that you carry with you everything you have every done, and the universe resonates with you.) In the last ten minutes of the movie we finally get to see him carry out the task he has been moving towards for the last two hours, but we have no idea why he is doing it. In the end, the things we don't know (everything about the movie) outweigh the things we do know (there are people on the screen) and the result isn't fascinating, just frustrating.

I am a big fan of Jim Jarmusch (I own all of his films) and I have never been put off by his slow, meandering style of storytelling before. In this case, however, I would have to say that THE LIMITS OF CONTROL felt more like THE LIMITS OF MY PATIENCE.

Happy Birthday, Tom!

Do us a favor: live for another 60 years.

Show Review: 30 ROCK

I'm not going to review this show, I'm just going to tell you to watch it. Created by and starring Tina Fey (Hottie!), this is the sharpest, funniest show I have seen on network television in a long time. Tina Fey is fantastic, Alec Baldwin is sublime, and Tracy Morgan is insane. The supporting cast is magnificent, and each episode tops the one that came before. So. Stinking. Good.

P.S. This review only applies to Season 1. I found Season 2 half-hearted and lackluster, and I won't have a verdict on Season 3 until it comes in at the library.

Book Review: MYSTERIES OF PITTSBURGH

As much as I have enjoyed the rest of Michael Chabon's novels (evidenced by the glowing reviews on this very blog), this one did absolutely nothing for me. MYSTERIES is Chabon's first novel, and although there are moments of lovely writing here and there, the fact is that I didn't care about the story, or any of the characters, or anything at all about this book. It felt strained, like he was striving to make the book bigger, to make it more than it is, and as a result everything comes out feeling terribly flat and somewhat dishonest. Believability is crucial to any piece of writing, and there was almost nothing in this book that rang true. (The exception to this is the climactic scene in the novel, which was poetic and vivid and graceful, and which I can't relay to you now for obvious reasons.) Taken as a whole, the book left me feeling unfulfilled, and slightly cheated.

I'm glad I read most of his other works first, because if I had started with this one I might not have bothered with the rest.

Movie Review: THE IN-LAWS (1979)

I first saw this comedy gem back in the day when I was working at Rain City Video, and it has been a perennial favorite ever since. I won't give away the plot (which is delightfully ludicrous and should be discovered first-hand), but I will say that what brings me back again and again is the joy of watching Peter Falk and Alan Arkin play off each other for 90 minutes. These guys are so sharp, and so funny, you literally can't take your eyes off of them. (Apparently, the primary reason this movie even exists is that one of the producers wanted a project that would bring these two actors together.)
Arkin is all forced politeness and pent-up frustration, while Falk is laid-back and charming even in the most dire circumstances. (I also have to say that Peter Falk is, without question, a comedic genius. While many people may only know him from THE PRINCESS BRIDE and COLUMBO, the man is a legend for reasons apart from those august performances.) These guys are clearly having a ball working together, and we are lucky enough to go along for the ride. Do yourself and favor and check this one out--you won't be sorry.

Movie Review: WONDER BOYS

Well, they stayed remarkably true to the book (with minor excisions to keep the running time down), but for all its faithfulness this adaptation fell as flat as a pompadour in the rain.

I will be fair and say that adapting the book is not an easy task: although the plot of the novel is easily translated to the screen, the heart of the story is much trickier to get at. The book is narrated by the main character, which lets us into his mind and serves the story well. The movie is also narrated by the main character, which lets us into his mind and ruins the whole thing. A narrator on the page can say almost anything and the reader will go along with him; on the screen, however--out loud--the same words will come across as cliche and trite. (It doesn't help that every line of dialogue added by screenwriter Steve Kloves is cliche and trite.) Not only that, but the film is sentimental in a way that the book is not, and in the last ten minutes the pithy little life lessons come so fast and so sugary that I honestly thought I might puke.

Read the book, avoid the movie.

Book Review: THE FINAL SOLUTION

Another delightful Literary Yarn from Michael Chabon (although technically this is the first Literary Yarn, since GENTLEMEN OF THE ROAD was published later). Set in England in 1944, the novel centers around a stolen parrot, a mute Jewish refugee, and a world-renowned detective who comes out of retirement to reunite the two. It's a fast, fun read, and I love the fact that the famous detective is never actually named throughout the entire book.

As you may have noticed, I am on a Michael Chabon kick right now, and the thing that strikes me most about his writing is the manner in which he suits his language to the subject matter. In GENTLEMEN OF THE ROAD, the writing is eloquent and the language elaborate, giving the novel a sense of antiquity which befits a tale set hundreds of years ago. In WONDER BOYS, the style is contemporary and the syntax laid-back, just as one would expect from a story set in Pittsburgh in the mid-90's. And here in THE FINAL SOLUTION, Chabon writes in a manner which is exceedingly, well, British, for lack of a better description. It's not just that he uses British terminology--anyone could do that--it's that he adopts the polite distance so prevalent in British novels (or in Britain itself, for that matter). This guy is an amazing writer; I can't wait to start the next book.

Book Review: WEREWOLVES IN THEIR YOUTH

Beautifully
rendered
stories
about
profoundly
unhappy
people.

Movie Review: THE HURT LOCKER

There are three statements at the top of this movie poster, and I would like to address them one at a time, starting with the last one.

1."FEROCIOUSLY SUSPENSEFUL."
That's an understatement, folks. This movie is about bomb disposal technicians in Iraq, and the set pieces in the film are white-knuckle masterpieces. There is relatively little cinema trickery in the scenes where they are examining an IED or working the streets with rifles at the ready, they just put you in the heat and dust with the soldiers and let you feel the exhilarating terror of life or death decisions. These scenes are largely silent (dialogue-free, anyway) and absolutely riveting.

2."A FULL-TILT ACTION PICTURE."
This was clearly written by someone who only watched the preview, because this is not--nor is it intended to be--an action movie. The combat scenes are counterbalanced with scenes from the soldier's personal lives, and this, sadly, is where the movie falls to pieces. The narrative element is so melodramatic, overwrought, and overwritten that I wanted to punch myself in the face. Every time the story shifted away from the field, the movie bogged down like a scorpion under a wet towel (as the credits rolled I wondered aloud if the movie had been three or three-and-a-half hours; it was two). To be honest, I couldn't even tell you the narrative is about because it was so agonizingly painful to watch that my brain switched off in a desperate act of self-preservation.

3."A NEAR-PERFECT MOVIE."
Not even close, guys, for all of the reasons I mentioned above (and more, but why kick a dead horse). If it had been an hour and twenty-six minutes long and had only the loosest narrative thread to connect the men to one another (think THE THIN RED LINE), I would have agreed with this one. But as it stands? No way.

I will say, that for all its flaws, there are scenes in this movie that are absolutely astonishing, and worthy of acclaim: every single moment in the field; a scene between a soldier and a young Iraqi boy lingers in my memory; and for the rest of my life I will look at Capri Sun juice bags with a certain reverence. In the end, that is what makes this movie such a compelling frustration--it sticks with you, and you really want to see it again, but only if you have the ability to fast-forward.

Book Review: WONDER BOYS

I remember seeing the movie many years ago and wondering what the book was like, and I also remember wondering why people thought Katie Holmes belonged in the movies. I still wonder about that. Anyway, I was browsing at the library when I came across this one, and recalling my recent enjoyment of GENTLEMEN OF THE ROAD, I decided to give it a shot.

And I was not disappointed. Michael Chabon's second novel is a joy to read and funny as hell, and his characters are utterly compelling (although in this novel, very few of them are likeable). The story spins out over a single weekend, and it's hard to imagine how so much damage--emotional, physical, psychological, and automotive--can be crammed into such a short period of time. Grady Tripp, our narrator, is a self-involved, self-destructive pothead (who also teaches and writes), and as he carries us with him on his journey he lays waste to all those around him, especially those he purports to care about. He is a creep and an asshole, a rotten friend, and a lousy teacher.

But he is, after all, a human being, and that is what I loved about this book. Grady is no hero, for sure, but since we are privy to the workings of his mind, we get to see him trying to do the right thing from time to time, even if he screws it up royally. In fact, all of the characters are deeply flawed in one way or another, but they are also vibrant and alive and aggravating and confusing, just like the rest of us. Although I wouldn't want to spend any time with any of these people in real life, I was glad I got to hang out with them for a few hundred pages.

Music Review: TOM WAITS - ORPHANS: BRAWLERS, BAWLERS, AND BASTARDS

This 3-disc set was released in 2006, and it is a compilation of songs which were cut from (or never made it onto) his previous albums. While many releases of this variety (from other artists, that is) are just a dozen or so b-sides and outtakes, this set contains nearly 60 tracks, and not a one of them feels like an outtake or afterthought. Here's a little breakdown:


DISC 1: BRAWLERS
This disc is compiled of rock and blues tunes, and has a number of songs that have been played live many times, but never before appeared on an album. Highlights on this disc include "Lucinda," "Bottom of the World," "Walk Away," and "Lie To Me."

DISC 2: BAWLERS
As the title implies, this disc is composed mainly of ballads and slow numbers, many of which will break your heart. There are some great songs on this album ("Fannin Street" and "Long Way Home" are the standouts here), but this disc is the only one that feels like a bunch of songs, rather than an album. Now bear in mind that they are fantastic songs, but for me it doesn't have the cohesion of the other two discs.

DISC 3: BASTARDS
This is my favorite disc of the set, and is quickly becoming one of my favorite Waits albums. Peppered with spoken-word pieces (including the most depressing bedtime story of all time and a Twilight Zone-esque lecture on insects), some blues numbers, and even a sea shanty, the overall tone is best described as Unrelentingly Dark. Many of these songs feel like they were culled from BONE MACHINE, THE BLACK RIDER, and REAL GONE, but put together they create a potent--if sinister-collage. I love this one, and the last track on the disc ("Missing My Son") turns everything on its ear.

That's it for this morning, gang. I'm going to listen to Tom Waits on the way to work, go ye and do likewise.

Movie Review: QUARANTINE

The following is an imaginary re-creation of the meeting in which this movie was dreamed up.

Two young studio execs with bad haircuts and expensive suits sit on opposite sides of a very large conference table. They are tossing a Nerf football back and forth.

"Dude, remember that movie 28 Days Later?"

"Yeah dude, that movie was fucking awesome. Those zombie guys were scary as shit!"

"Hell yeah, they were. What about that one old movie, the one with the shaky camera--The Blair Witch Project?"

"Dude, that movie rocked my fucking balls, man."

"How about 12 Monkeys? Where that crazy asshole was trying to destroy the world with some weirdo virus?"

"Man, I don't watch that fucking art house shit!"

"Fucking A, dude, chill out! Hey, remember at the end of Silence of the Lambs, when that chick Starla was all green and shit cause' it was totally dark?"

"Dude, that scene was fucking CRAZY. I mean, fuck!"

They toss the ball in silence for a moment, then the younger one pauses mid-toss. He stares across the table.

"Dude, what if we took all that awesome shit and put it in ONE MOVIE?! That would be so, so fucking--dude!"

The other thinks about it, then grins.

"You are a genius, dude. High-fucking-five!"

Movie Review: LARS AND THE REAL GIRL

It's rare to find a movie where people are kind to one another, and even rarer to find a movie where people are beautiful to one another.

LARS is just such a rarity, a gem of a film whose outlandish premise (a lonely young man buys a love doll and treats it like a girlfriend) gives way to a surprisingly straightforward story full of genuine heart incredible tenderness. Ryan Gosling gives an astonishing performance as Lars, and the supporting cast is pitch-perfect (indie-queen Patricia Clarkson is as good as ever, and in my opinion Paul Schneider should have gotten a Best Supporting Actor nomination for his rich, understated performance as Lars' older brother Gus). In less capable hands, this movie could have ended up sickly-sweet and cartoonish, but as it stands, LARS AND THE REAL GIRL shows us how the most unusual things can bring out the best in people. Wonderful.

Movie Review: SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE

Damn.

The credits just finished rolling and here I am trying to write about it, and I am literally at a loss for words. This film moved me in so many ways, and worked so well, that I think I am not going to review it at all. My words would only cheapen the experience.

Go watch this movie. It's really damn good.

Book Review: GENTLEMEN OF THE ROAD

I read this delightful little morsel by Michael Chabon in two hours, and after I finished I decided that this book belongs to its own genre, the Literary Yarn. Following the adventures of two unlikely companions, this exuberant tale has all the swordplay and derring-do of an old dime novel, but is written with the style and linguistic acrobatics of a master wordsmith. I marveled at the manner in which Chabon took a sweeping epic and kept it to a mere 196 pages, but without making it feel condensed. (If anything, the book seems more expansive because of its brevity.) Full of wonderful characters that are beautifully rendered, I cannot recommend this one highly enough. A real charmer.

Book Review: GRIMUS

(Let me preface this by saying I feel very awkward about writing a blog-length review of a book by Salman Rushdie. His books generally require a minimum of ten pages to discuss, and that's if you just want to scratch the surface. But there it is.)

I have to say that as I read this book (Rushdie's first novel), I wondered if J.J. Abrams read the Cliffs Notes before he began production on LOST, dealing as it does with a mysterious island governed by mystical forces--an island that draws the chosen few to itself. The ostensible plot of GRIMUS deals with an Indian who is granted immortality, but after being robbed of the ability to choose death is forced to wander the earth for 777 years before coming to Calf Island, a mist-shrouded land populated by immortals. Searching for his sister and a manner of death, Flapping Eagle must come to terms not only with the nature of the universe, but the nature of his own soul.

But that's just the plot. The novel itself is really about The Big Ideas: free will, fate, destiny, control (and the illusory nature thereof), love, hate, life, death. Rushdie writes with confidence and strength, weaving philosophy and science-fiction together with linguistic and imaginative fireworks. His writing takes you into a headspace where anything is possible, and, based on the compelling eloquence of its rendering, highly probable. In the hands of a lesser writer, this novel could have been Philosophy 101 crammed between the lines of third-tier magical realism, but Rushdie never misses the balance between story and subtext, and the one always strengthens and supports the other. Masterful writing.

Although I found some of his later novels to be overly intricate and willfully convoluted (Hello, SHALIMAR THE CLOWN), this novel shows the promise that Rushdie would later fulfill with MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN and THE SATANIC VERSES. If you have never read anything by this literary giant, GRIMUS is as good a place as any to start.

Movie Review: REDBELT

Dear David Mamet,
We know that people are crooked and that everyone plays both sides against the middle, and we know that a Man Of Honor is going to have a hard road ahead of him. How do we know this? Because it's the subject of everything you've ever done, and with the exception of HOUSE OF GAMES and GLENGARRY GLEN ROSS, it has made for excruciatingly bad cinema. And just so you know, sometimes human beings speak in complete sentences without repeating themselves. In the world, humans do this. They do this. In the world.

I can't decide which is the bigger waste: the 90 minutes I spent watching this, or the millions of dollars they spent making it.

Movie Review: W.

A surprisingly even-handed portrait of George W. Bush from director Oliver Stone. The film does a good job of presenting the man without adding value judgments to his actions, letting us see him as no more and no less than a human being with all of the flaws and fears that the rest of us have. (Sure, he takes a comedic potshot here and there, but that's Oliver Stone for you.)

Having said that, it was a blindingly dull movie.

Make This Dinner: Creamy Pasta with Sausage and Peppers

This is my own concoction, adapted from another recipe that I watched a friend make one night. Here goes:

INGREDIENTS
2 each green, red, yellow peppers, small to medium size, cut into 1/4 inch thick rings, with the leftover top and bottom pieces cut into segments along the natural contour lines (If you can get your hands on Italian frying peppers that would be ideal, but regular peppers will do just fine if you don't feel like going on a pepper hunt)
1 lb petite crimini mushrooms with stems intact, quartered
2 medium shallots, finely diced (but not minced)
1/4 cup minced italian parsley
4 links italian pork sausage, mild
4 links italian turkey sausage, mild
1 pint plus 1/2 pint heavy cream, heated to steaming
1-2 lbs bow tie pasta, depending on number of guests
Extra virgin olive oil for sauteing

EQUIPMENT
Large, heavy bottomed skillet with high sides (the wider the better, stainless steel preferred)
Large pot for pasta
Medium saucepan for heating cream (you can also use a large measuring cup in the microwave)
Large mixing bowl

INSTRUCTIONS
Add hot water to the large pot and place over medium heat. (I like to keep the pasta water just below boiling while I make everything else, then I fire up the heat and cook the pasta right at the last minute.)

Heat the large skillet over medium-high heat, then add just enough olive oil to coat the bottom

Add the sausage and brown on both sides, 3 to 5 minutes per side

Lower the heat to medium-low, then using a small paring knife of the edge of a metal spatula, cut the links into 3/4 inch thick rounds and brown the cut ends, 2-3 minutes per side. When everything is nicely browned, remove the sausage to a bowl and set aside (If your oven has a warming drawer, use that)

Discard most--but not all-- of the fat that has accumulated in the pan, then return the pan to medium heat and add a dash of olive oil. Add the shallots and saute until nicely browned, 5 to 7 minutes.

Add the peppers to the pan and toss well to coat them with oil. Saute until tender and browned on edges, 10 to 15 minutes. (I usually let them sit, then toss them every 3 or 4 minutes). When the peppers are done, add them to the bowl with the sausage and set aside.

Heat the cream while you do the next step.

Add some oil to the pan if it's looking dry, then add the mushrooms and toss well (the mushrooms will absorb all of the oil instantly, but don't be tempted to add more--just let them do their thing.) When the mushrooms begin to release their moisture into the pan, turn the heat up to medium-high and let the liquid evaporate, then continue cooking until they are golden brown. Reduce the heat to medium.

By now, the bottom of the skillet should be covered with beautifully browned bits of everything you just cooked, and it's time to get them integrated into the dish. (This is also a good time to turn up the heat on the pasta water.)

Add the heated cream to the pan, then use a wooden spoon or metal spatula to gently scrape the bottom of the pan, releasing all of the browned bits into the cream. Add the sausage and peppers and mix well, reduce the heat to medium-low and let everything simmer and thicken, about 10 minutes. Salt to taste.

While the skillet simmers, cook the pasta until al dente, then drain and spoon into warmed serving bowls.

Scoop the sauce over the pasta, then sprinkle each bowl with the minced italian parsley.

Serve with salad and several bottles of your favorite red wine. (I myself like the Bogle Petite Syrah.)

Enjoy!

P.S. The next time I make this dish I will take pictures as I go and add them to the recipe.

Concert Review: TOM WAITS - GLITTER AND DOOM, LIVE IN ATLANTA

A few months ago, I got this concert as a free download from All Songs Considered (you can get if for yourself right here), and after listening to it exactly once I forget about it for a while. My initial reaction to the concert was a mixture of elation and disappointment: elated that I had more music from Tom Waits (a two-and-a-half hour concert, people!), but disappointed that the quality of his voice had deteriorated so much in the last five years. I have a 2004 concert where he utilizes every range and tonal variety of his (admittedly raspy) voice, and as I listened to the Atlanta concert it seemed like every song was performed in his deepest, most gravelly profundo, and I felt that not all of the songs were given their full due with the bronchial treatment they received. It was still a great show, but it left me a little melancholy.

HOWEVER! Last week, I learned that they were releasing a live album of his Glitter and Doom Tour, and it made me want to go back and listen to the concert again to see if I would want to purchase the album or not. Jump ahead to this week, where I am currently (and by "currently" I mean "as I am typing this") listening to the concert for the seventh time. It has now become my favorite Tom Waits album (I know it's a podcast, but I'm calling it an album. So there.) I think my initial reaction is what most people experience when a favorite artist--be it musician, writer, director, whatever-- comes out with something new, which is to compare it to the things they made before. This gets tricky a live concert, since you will have a connection to the album version of the songs you are going to hear. (This is even trickier with Tom Waits, since he never plays a song the same way twice, and if he does three nights of shows in a city, each night will have a radically different set list from the other two.)As I listened to the concert for the second time, I realized that there was much more vocal variety that I had thought the first time around, and the songs that got the Chest Cold In Hell voice were actually enriched by the depth and darkness, rather than cheated. (For example, the album version of "Dirt In The Ground" is done is a high, raspy whine, while this live version is deep and resonating. At first I lamented the change, but now I find it incredibly moving.) The more I listen to this concert, the more I love it.

And then there are the songs themselves: 26 songs, taken from 11 of his 19 albums. It's not often that you get a concert this long, but for Tom Waits it seems to be the rule, rather than the exception. There is not a single performance here that fails to move you in one direction or another, and this version of "Get Behind The Mule" is officially my favorite recording of that tune. When the CD comes out next month, it will have 17 tracks taken from various cities, and there are only four or five overlaps from this concert (which means, in essence, that I will have two utterly different concerts from the same tour. Kick ass.) I wholeheartedly recommend that you download this concert RIGHT NOW, although I will say that if you are just getting into Tom Waits you might want to wait a while to listen to this one, as I think it is best appreciated after you are familiar with the bulk of his material. (That's just my opinion, it should in no way stop you from getting the concert and listening to it 24 hours a day for the next month and a half.)

Well, in the time it took me to write this, the concert has ended and I've been sitting in silence for the last five minutes. Anyone care to guess what I'm going to put on?

I Don't Remember Writing This...

I started working on a new post last night, and I saved it as a draft before hitting the sack. This morning, when I went to continue working on it, I found the following post way down at the bottom of the list. This was written while we lived in Los Angeles, and although I have no memory of exactly when (or why) I wrote it, it should give you some clue as to what it was like there.


"This windy evening finds me black of mood and bleak of outlook, despite my best efforts at a lightening of soul. Here in the City of Angels I find myself wondering "Where are they, these winged harbingers of hope and light?" I listen carefully, yet hear no flutter of seraphemic wing; I watch the horizon for a glimpse of the dawn on their golden breastplates, but see only darkness; I search the city for signs of their divine governance, and find only chaos and sorrow. Here in the City of Angels is only madness and anger, the surest sign that all is not well. There is much to be seen here, and most of it is frightening. Forgive us father, for we know not what we do."

UPDATE Update: Conchords, Season 2

So, I am already re-watching Season 2 (mostly because Rebecca only saw one episode the first time I watched it), and I am not skipping the songs this time.

Now, while I stand by my previous statement that the songs are not as organic and well-integrated as they are in Season 1, I will admit that they are growing on me. I have even found myself humming a few of them at work.

Movie Review: DISTRICT 9

This movie was such a mess, I don't even know where to begin.

Well, let's start with the obvious: How does a South African filmmaker get away with making an overtly racist, pro-apartheid film, and why does the world at large embrace it? And if you're going to ask "What do you mean, racist?", I say Open Your Eyes, People. The film deals with an oppressed group of aliens forced to live in a slum, and it's set in Johannesburg. In real life, Johannesburg is a place where an oppressed group of human beings--BLACK human beings--are forced to live in the largest slum on the planet. And here's the racist part: the film makes it clear that it best for everyone to keep the aliens living in squalor, because they are vicious, dangerous, mindless beasts. Carry that logic into the real world, and you have a shockingly racist piece of propaganda. (And even this allegory is muddled, since the oppressed aliens are immigrants, whereas the black population in South Africa was oppressed BY immigrants--Dutch and English. I hate flawed metaphors.)

In fact, not only are the aliens portrayed as mindless animals, so are the majority of black people in the film. The slum is essentially controlled by a Nigerian warlord, who trades the aliens cat food for their weapon technology. Oh, and from time to time he will kill and eat one of the "prawns" in order to "absorb their power." In a movie already teeming with racist overtones, perhaps this was not the wisest element to include in the movie.

And then there's the central character, Wikus, the man in charge of moving all the aliens to a new location outside of the city. At the beginning of the movie he is blind to his own evil as he moves through the slum, tossing aliens out of their shacks, smiling like a Nazi clearing the Warsaw ghetto. By the end of the movie his is really no better, because his main motivation for helping one of the aliens is pure self-interest: Wikus begins turning into a prawn after being exposed to alien fluid, and he needs the alien to help him revert to human form. Only briefly do we see the oppressor taking the place of the oppressed (and this was a very effective scene), but instead of gaining any real empathy for the aliens, it merely strengthens his desire to rid himself of the mutation. Another squandered opportunity.

Last but not least we have our central alien character, who is differentiated from the rest of the group by the fact the he has a child, wears clothing, and answers to the name "Christopher Johnson." Early on in the movie we are told that the reason we can't learn anything useful from the aliens is that they are more or less the "worker ants," and they have no initiative or intelligence in the absence of their leadership--except for Christopher, that is. Nothing about this character makes any real sense, from the fact that he responds to his slave name, wears oppressors clothing, and helps the villain survive, to the fact that his uniqueness is left unexplained.

There is so much more to talk about, but frankly I am running out of steam on this review. Most of my remaining complaints are cinematic in nature, and many of those deal with the fact that the director trotted out a number of dog-eared movie cliches, which drives me friggen' bonkers. In the right hands, this movie could have been stunning sci-fi and gripping social commentary, a movie for the ages. Instead, it's bland alien action and mixed metaphors, instantly forgettable. A shame.

You Should Be Listening to Tom Waits Right Now, And Here's Why...

I have a friend at work named Rusty, and the other day he came into the produce back room as I was trimming celery and said,

"So Matt, yesterday I heard a song on the radio by that guy you're always talking about on Facebook, whatshisname--"

"Tom Waits?!" I nearly shouted.

"Yeah, that's him."

"And?"

"And... he's not really for me. Sorry"

I took a deep breath, then set my knife on the sink (so as to avoid any charges of involuntary manslaughter). I raised may hands in front of me and fixed Rusty in my eye.

"Whoa, bro--you cannot write off Tom Waits after hearing one song. That's like saying you don't like a movie after watching one half of one scene. Uh-uh. No way."

After a brief discussion (in which I likened the music of Tom Waits to a Forest, a Visiting Extra-Terrestrial, and the Entire Continuum of Human Existence), Rusty agreed to accept a cd from me, a cd containing one track from each Tom Waits album, so that he could dip his toes in the various Tom Waits pools. I delivered said cd the next day, and I am waiting to hear Rusty's thoughts. (I am highly optimistic, because Tom Waits rules.)

The point of this anecdote (roundabout though it may be) is that you can't listen to one--or even ten--Tom Waits songs and formulate a permanent opinion on the man or his music. I was not being facetious when I compared his music to the Entire Continuum of Human Existence, because it has it all: joy, sorrow, elation, fear, magic, death, love, hate, anger, peace, despair, hope. Tom Waits has a soft spot for the underdogs, losers, and freaks, and as a result he touches on the universal within us all. He sings about broken hearts and damaged souls, and if that isn't a little bit of each and every one of us, I don't know what is. Coupled with the fact that he writes in styles ranging from piano ballads and jazz numbers to blues and apocalyptic junkyard stomp, Tom Waits just isn't a guy to listen to only once.

And if you do, you'll only be cheating yourself.

Movie Review: WALKABOUT

It takes alot for me to give up on a movie--especially a Criterion Collection movie--but I gave up on this one after about an hour and ten minutes. It had a promising start (a dad takes his kids into the outback for a picnic, then sets the car on fire and blows his brains out) but I got so annoyed with the heavy-handed editing and overwrought score that I finally just turned off the tv. I don't know if Nic Roeg took alot of acid or if it was just the influence of the early 70's, but the repetitive cuts and thematic cross-cutting felt oddly psychedelic, and not in a good way. I found myself wishing for long, unbroken shots with no zooming and no music over them, and then I found myself wishing for a different movie altogether.

P.S. Before anyone accuses me of not getting it, let me say that I definitely got it, I just couldn't stand watching it.

UPDATE: Conchords, Season 2

I just finished Season 2, and the pattern established in the first few episodes continued: The sitcom element was great, Murray was sublime, and I fast-forwarded through every single song.

Show Review: FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS

Hopefully by now most of you have encountered this ridiculous and wonderful HBO series, which follows the misadventures of Bret and Jemaine, two hapless New Zealanders who together comprise the folk parody group Flight of the Conchords. You might think that watching two guys with almost no personality would be boring, but instead it is fantastic. Bret and Jemaine come across like extra-terrestrials who have been dropped in New York and given just enough information to survive (barely), and have been allotted one friend, one fan, and a manager. They are so flat in their delivery as to be nearly affect-less, and yet the performances are incredibly rich and funny. And of course, the songs are simply great. I would live to give a detailed review of the music, but I think the songs should be experienced within the context of the show. (I will say that the song in Episode 1 is called "The Most Beautiful Girl (In the Room)." Sample lyric: "You could be a model/A part-time model/But you'd have to keep your regular job." Love it.)

As much as I enjoy watching Bret and Jemaine, the man that steals the show is Rhys Darby, playing the Conchords erstwhile manager Murray Hewitt. If I were a woman, or gay, I would marry Murray. He is a moron, yes, and a pathetic manager, true, but he is so confident and self-assured--even when he is dead wrong, which is most of the time--that I root for him all the more. Murray comes up with the worst ideas for the band, and when they fall through he manages to put the blame on the guys without seeming like a jerk. I heart Murray Hewitt.

As for Season 2, I am currently four episodes in and it is turning out to be a bit of a disappointment. The sitcom element is just as good as Season 1, but the songs are pretty lame. In the first season the songs are the highlight of each episode, but here they feel shoehorned and requisite. (I am told that all the songs in the first season existed long before the series came into being, whereas the songs in the second season were written to fit into the episodes. Well, it shows, and it's kind of a bummer.) However! Murray is in rare form so far (he booked the guys a gig playing a small venue: an elevator), so I will keep watching.