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.

Book Review: WOMEN

Charles Bukowski has long been one of my favorite writers, and this is easily his best book. Although he was primarily known as a poet (having published twenty-odd volumes in his lifetime, and several posthumously,) he occasionally wrote semi-autobiographical novels (HAM ON RYE, POST OFFICE, and FACTOTUM, to name a few) In his novels, Bukowski's alter-ego is Hank Chinaski, a brash, brawling, womanizing drunk, and WOMEN details Hank's various dealings with--you guessed it--women. More specifically, women who are frequently drunk, jealous, crazy, or a charming combination of all three.

Now, while this may not seem like any great shakes as far as reading material goes, it is just the opposite: WOMEN is not only one of the funniest books I have ever read, it is written with both grace and bravado, like an overweight ballet dancer performing drunken pirouettes. Bukowski's writing is a beer gut with the six-pack showing through: heavy and swinging, but also lean and efficient. He writes about drunks and lunatics with true affection, and draws you willingly into a world of drinking, gambling, and screwing that most of us wouldn't dream of touching with a ten-foot pole. However, there is a core of vulnerability to Chinaksi, and an awareness of his own shortcomings that makes him understandable, if not always likeable. Coupled with this is an incredibly sharp and self-mocking sense of humor which prevents the novel from becoming prurient (or at least keeps it from being merely vulgar). WOMEN is not for the prudish or easily offended, but if you're willing to take a chance, it's well worth it.

Book Review: THE ROAD

Wow.
Wow.
Wow.
If David Sedaris ushered me back into the world of pleasure reading, Cormac McCarthy reminded me why I started reading books in the first place. THE ROAD is, hands down, the best book I have ever read. Ever. McCarthy's command of language is unparalleled, his imagery frightening and indelible. There are passages of this book that will remain with me to the day I die, visions burned in my brain as surely as if they had been seared with hot iron. This book is the essence of good writing, which is to tell a simple story--but tell it well. The writing is not just exceptional, it is miraculous. Epochal. I can't remember the last time I stopped to reread sentences just to marvel at their savage eloquence, but I did that again and again as I worked my way through this slim (but vast) novel. The ravaged world he has created has the terrifying feel of prophecy, yet imbued with a veracity so real and so awful that you wonder if McCarthy might not be a time-traveler, come back to offer a bleak warning. I am at a loss for words. Wow.

Movie Review: MOON

I caught this last night at The Crest (huzzah for $3 movies) and I was thoroughly impressed. Sam Rockwell gives an incredibly real performance as Sam Bell, a man who works on the moon, alone, apart from his robotic helper, Gerty. Sam is two weeks from the end of his three-year contract when things start getting weird for him. I won't give too much away, but I will say that the man who arrives to replace him and take over the mining operation is, oddly, Sam Bell.

The movie pays tribute to a number of great science fiction films, most notably 2001, ALIEN, and BLADE RUNNER, and it shares a place of honor with each of them. So many sci-fi films nowadays gleefully forgo logic and character for special effects and flashy camerawork (I'm looking at you, STAR TREK), but like the classic films I mentioned above, the beating heart of MOON comes from the beating heart of its characters, even the melancholy Gerty. Sam Bell isn't an abstraction, an idea, but a human being who is endlessly relatable and recognizably fragile. It is his journey, his discoveries, and his pain that keep your eyes on the screen, and keeps the movie in your memory. Well done.

Book Review: WHEN YOU ARE ENGULFED IN FLAMES

Do I really need to say anything about the genius of David Sedaris? This collection has some of his best work to date, alternatingly painful, tender, and eye-wateringly funny. This book will always have a special place in my heart, as it is the first book I have read since I completed my English degree in 2007. (I have been an avid reader my entire life, but I was unable to read for pleasure after doing nothing but dissecting novels for two straight years.)

Thank you, David.