Last week I caught two documentaries that could fuel a meaty "compare and contrast" homework assignment: Boogie Man: The Lee Atwater Story and The Most Dangerous Man in America: Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers. Both men were roundly denounced in their heyday, and yet both have their admirers.
Atwater grew up in South Carolina, where campaigning is particularly toxic. He changed the rules of national politics by bringing the smear into the modern age. He and his acolyte Karl Rove have done much to promote the idea of politics as total war with no holds barred.
Ellsberg was an analyst with the Rand Corporation, which was commisioned by the Pentagon to study America's involvement in Vietnam. When the study determined the war was far from just an idealistic effort to build democracy, Ellsberg took it upon himself to make the findings public.
Atwater was condemned for his death-blow against decency in public discourse. Ellsberg was denounced as a traitor for airing America's dirty linen.
One fascinating detail is that both men suffered childhood traumas that shaped their lives.
When Atwater was a boy, his younger brother pulled a pan of hot grease off the stove onto himself and within a few days died of the injuries. Atwater was devastated; the world was revealed as cruel and unfair, and Atwater developed a deep cynicism about life.
The young Ellsberg was riding with his family in a car driven by his father, who dozed off behind the wheel. In the ensuing crash, Ellsberg's mother and sister were killed. Ellsberg remained an idealist, but this tragedy taught him that authority figures are fallible.
In his early forties, Atwater was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor. He searched frantically for a religion or philosophy to give meaning to his life. In the end, he repented the tactics that had brought him such success in politics, and he asked forgiveness of those whom he had attacked.
Ellsberg, still alive today, doesn't repent his leaking of the Pentagon papers, and history seems to have ratified his actions. America got out of Vietnam (though we eventually found other places to send our soldiers).
In researching our involvement in Vietnam, Ellsberg joined a patrol of soldiers, who were beset by Viet Cong snipers hiding in the jungle. It occurred to him that America was playing the role of the redcoats in this war, while the Cong were the revolutionaries, taking their opportunistic shots and then fading into the bushes.
Atwater was a sort of revolutionary, too. He decided on his own rules of campaigning, and his flummoxed opponents were often caught out in the open, taking fire from all sides. Michael Dukakis, featured in the documentary, still doesn't seem to know what hit him. He might as well have been wearing a red coat when he rode that tank.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Philosophy in All Caps
I don't know much about Russell Brand. I know he was very funny in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and I have the sense that he is famously libertine. But I've just listened to a charming half-hour interview of Brand by Elvis Mitchell, and the discussion is unexpectedly philosophical, with the conversation ranging from the meaning of desire, to one's place in the universe, to celebrity, and finally to love. Mind you, every sentence, every word spoken by Brand is fast and emphatic.
Early on, Mitchell revs things up with a quote from C.S. Lewis, to the effect that one doesn't have a soul; one is a soul, and one has a body. And with that, baby, it's on!
Early on, Mitchell revs things up with a quote from C.S. Lewis, to the effect that one doesn't have a soul; one is a soul, and one has a body. And with that, baby, it's on!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
No Relation
I don't know if anyone noticed, but last Thursday's episode of The Office featured a paper salesman named Danny Cordray. Now, how would this show come up with such an odd last name? Maybe one of the show's producers, Randy Cordray, would know.
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This blog's been pretty quiet, but if you have a hankerin' for more of my prose, you can always check out Second-Chance Cinema, my blog about obscure movies.
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This blog's been pretty quiet, but if you have a hankerin' for more of my prose, you can always check out Second-Chance Cinema, my blog about obscure movies.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Animated
This week I had the pleasure of watching The Secret of Kells, the fanciful story of an Irish boy's attempt to protect an illustrated manuscript from Vikings. This is the film that provoked a lot of huh?s when it got an Oscar nomination for animated feature, simply because few people had heard of it. And in the U.S., few ever did. When it finished its theatrical run this July, its total U.S. gross was under $700,000; it never played on more than 36 American screens at the same time.
This is a pity, because it really is a beautiful, delightful film. Maybe DVD sales and rentals will make a bit more money for the movie's backers. I would urge anyone who isn't averse to animation to check it out.
These are good times for animation. The two behemoths, Disney/Pixar and DreamWorks, produce high-quality work; I'm looking forward to catching How to Train Your Dragon and Toy Story 3 on DVD later this year. (The latter is predicted by some to get a Best Picture Oscar nomination.) These movies are always well-promoted, as are, usually, offerings from Fox (Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Simpsons Movie) and Focus (Coraline). Disney also distributes features from Studio Ghibli (Ponyo).
But movies like The Secret of Kells are particularly delightful. They are usually in a more venturesome style, and because they're not well-known, they are discoveries, of a sort. Here are a few more:
9 (from Focus Features, but not given a lot of promotion) features a handful of doll-like creatures made of burlap, trying to survive (and trying to understand the meaning of their existence) in a post-Apocalyptic landscape. Very well done.
Sita Sings the Blues tells the story of the Hindu epic, "The Ramayana," accompanied by blues music from the 1920s. It's a gas, and I believe it's still available for free viewing on the Internet.
Waltz with Bashir came out early last year. It uses animation to tackle a tough subject (especially with respect to box office appeal): the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon. The movie builds to a heart-stopping climax.
Persepolis tells the story of a free-spirited Iranian girl who grew up while Iran was succumbing to rule by intolerant religious leaders.
Igor has a more mainstream look, but it is an independent production (and therefore obscure) about a world where a hunchback dares to dream of a career jump from Lab Assistant to Evil Scientist. If Oscars were given out for voice performances, Jennifer Coolidge would have a statuette on her mantlepiece.
Going back a little further, The Triplets of Belleville is the wonderful, comic story of cyclists on the Tour de France being used for sinister purposes.
And this year there are other promising animated feature films not yet released on DVD.
Idiots and Angels is by the wonderful, eccentric cartoonist Bill Plympton. He's had a few other feature films, but he's best known for his shorts, including the delightful Dog series (Guard Dog, Guide Dog, Hot Dog, and Horn Dog). This latest is the story of a selfish man who grows wings one night and finds himself compulsively doing good deeds.
My Dog Tulip is the animated version of a beloved book and is said to be spectacular to watch.
The Illusionist is based on a never-filmed Jacques Tati screenplay, and is directed by Sylvain Chomet, who also directed The Triplets of Belleville.
This is a pity, because it really is a beautiful, delightful film. Maybe DVD sales and rentals will make a bit more money for the movie's backers. I would urge anyone who isn't averse to animation to check it out.
These are good times for animation. The two behemoths, Disney/Pixar and DreamWorks, produce high-quality work; I'm looking forward to catching How to Train Your Dragon and Toy Story 3 on DVD later this year. (The latter is predicted by some to get a Best Picture Oscar nomination.) These movies are always well-promoted, as are, usually, offerings from Fox (Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Simpsons Movie) and Focus (Coraline). Disney also distributes features from Studio Ghibli (Ponyo).
But movies like The Secret of Kells are particularly delightful. They are usually in a more venturesome style, and because they're not well-known, they are discoveries, of a sort. Here are a few more:
9 (from Focus Features, but not given a lot of promotion) features a handful of doll-like creatures made of burlap, trying to survive (and trying to understand the meaning of their existence) in a post-Apocalyptic landscape. Very well done.
Sita Sings the Blues tells the story of the Hindu epic, "The Ramayana," accompanied by blues music from the 1920s. It's a gas, and I believe it's still available for free viewing on the Internet.
Waltz with Bashir came out early last year. It uses animation to tackle a tough subject (especially with respect to box office appeal): the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon. The movie builds to a heart-stopping climax.
Persepolis tells the story of a free-spirited Iranian girl who grew up while Iran was succumbing to rule by intolerant religious leaders.
Igor has a more mainstream look, but it is an independent production (and therefore obscure) about a world where a hunchback dares to dream of a career jump from Lab Assistant to Evil Scientist. If Oscars were given out for voice performances, Jennifer Coolidge would have a statuette on her mantlepiece.
Going back a little further, The Triplets of Belleville is the wonderful, comic story of cyclists on the Tour de France being used for sinister purposes.
And this year there are other promising animated feature films not yet released on DVD.
Idiots and Angels is by the wonderful, eccentric cartoonist Bill Plympton. He's had a few other feature films, but he's best known for his shorts, including the delightful Dog series (Guard Dog, Guide Dog, Hot Dog, and Horn Dog). This latest is the story of a selfish man who grows wings one night and finds himself compulsively doing good deeds.
My Dog Tulip is the animated version of a beloved book and is said to be spectacular to watch.
The Illusionist is based on a never-filmed Jacques Tati screenplay, and is directed by Sylvain Chomet, who also directed The Triplets of Belleville.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Michael Moore: A Love Story
Two types of people should not watch Capitalism: A Love Story: (1) those who get hot under the collar whenver they hear an opinion expressed from the Left (for Michael Moore will truly melt them down); and (2) those who uncritically believe everything they see (for they could finish watching C:ALS dumber than when they started—Moore spouts a fair bit of nonsense). Okay, maybe there's a third type: (3) those put off by big fat slobs (because that describes Moore pretty closely, and I sort of love him for that). Everybody else should check out the documentary; it's eye-opening a lot of fun.
Which is not to say that it's anywhere near a perfect film. You get a smorgasbord of critiques of the way our economy works, some of which are on-the-nose and some of which are, WTF? I can imagine writing Notes to Michael as I watch the picture, like some priggish Hollywood suit.
A recurring thread in the film is the story of the eviction of a blue-collar family from their home. It's pretty infuriating to see a group of sheriff's deputies pry open a house's locked door and force the residents to leave.
Note #1: Michael, I would love to have seen an explanation of how banks set interest rates on their loans, and how much leeway the regulators give them. It seems like they can charge pretty much whatever they want—whatever the market will bear, until the market collapses. Borrowing money while ceding the lender control over interest rates is tantamount to giving away everything you own. Is the Mafia still in business? I can't imagine a mobster nowadays who's scarier than your average bank or credit card company. Okay, this probably is getting boring; I realize you don't want to lose your audience with too many facts. Hey, I'm still watching!
Note #2: those deputies. How about a fantasy sequence where deputies show up at a telemarketing operation and stand over the callers, making sure they aren't using any underhanded sales tactics? Or maybe the deputies go out on the floor of Congress and monitor the speeches for honesty. It's not fair that the guy with the crowbar only shows up at the common man's house. Just a thought.
There's also a section on "dead peasant" insurance, where companies take out insurance policies on their employees' lives. In general, this is a hideous practice. The only logic I can see supporting it is of the "completion bond" variety. (I don't know if that's the right terminology. I'm referring to the insurance a movie producer takes out on the stars during production, since losing the star would be financially disastrous.) But C:ALS documents companies making a killing (if you'll pardon the expression) far out of proportion to the loss they suffer when an employee dies.
Note #3: How does this really work? I mean, insurance companies aren't stupid. If employers are making money with "dead peasant" policies, then the insurance companies must be losing. Is it that the employers know more about their workers' risky lifestyles than the insurance companies do? Or is "dead peasant" insurance just a crapshoot? You do give some examples of companies whose investments in their workers' imminent deaths aren't producing the expected profit.
The film uses Wallace Shawn as an expert on capitalism.
Note #4: Really? Actor and playwright Wallace Shawn? You know what I think? I love it! The guy is both brilliant and down-to-earth. (Anyone who doesn't know this should go out and rent My Dinner with Andre, which is simply a dinner conversation between Shawn and theater director Andre Gregory. Great film, and it demonstrates Shawn's intelligence and rootedness.) Great call!
Then there's the talk about free markets.
Note #5: Michael, this is where you missed the chance to distinguish between free markets and capitalism. Most of us know about the free market. You have various people manufacturing interchangeable products called widgets, and the free market forces these people to compete and offer the public the best price they can. But the first rule for any entrepreneur worth her salt is this: Get away from the free market as soon as you can! Find a niche where no one else is producing a product like yours! Buy out your competitors and form a monopoly! Spend campaign and lobbying dollars to get the legislature to pass laws that favor you and erect barriers to everyone else! The absence of a truly free market is the dominant feature of our capitalist economy.
One of Moore's big themes is capitalism vs. democracy. He asks a museum guard to point out where the Constitution talks about capitalism. Of course there's no such clause. But here is where the documentary is unbalanced. Any sensible expert on the Constitution could explain the protection our form of government gives to the businessman and the property owner. It's not either/or.
Moore uses a couple of corrupt judges as exhibits against capitalism. The judges were bribed by a contractor who provided juvenile detention to send young offenders to their facilities. Sometimes the judges imposed sentences far longer than the prosecutors asked for. The story is truly outrageous, but the judges did eventually go to prison.
Note #6: For this anecdote, I would shift the focus just a little. Privatization is one of the Republican Party's holy words that deserves to be 99% annihilated. Practice has shown that privatization consists of for-profit entities doing government work at higher cost and lower efficiency in order to funnel taxpayer money into the pockets of Republican friends and the campaign treasuries of Republican candidates.
Then there are the stunts. (Sigh.) I am truly tired of scenes of Moore confronting a security guard with his intention to make a citizen's arrest of a corporate honcho, or his empty bags to be filled with money stolen by a corporation. I get it, but the confrontations are a little sad; the security guard probably lunches on bologna or PB&J. It would be cool to see a guard say, "Michael Moore! I love your films, but you can't come in here; our corporate officers don't want to see you." But probably that will never happen, and the security guard harrassment just looks like bullying ... because that's what it is. And yeah, the corporate officers could spare their guards the humiliation by agreeing to an interview. But you shouldn't beat up on the working man just because some scummy CEO hides behind company security. Whoops, I probably should have called that Note #7.
(And I do think back to a previous documentary, where Moore is invited to interview an infirm Charlton Heston and bullies the old man. It's an unpleasant thing to watch, but in retrospect, considering Heston's long affiliation with the NRA—one of our nation's all-time bullies—maybe the old guy had it coming.)
I really intended to be more critical of this documentary than I have ended up being. Stacked up against the absurdities we get from Republicans every day, Moore's distortions often don't seem much more than white lies. My standards have been beaten down by the level of everyday political discourse.
Michael Moore, you lousy bastard: Um, when is your next movie coming out?
Which is not to say that it's anywhere near a perfect film. You get a smorgasbord of critiques of the way our economy works, some of which are on-the-nose and some of which are, WTF? I can imagine writing Notes to Michael as I watch the picture, like some priggish Hollywood suit.
A recurring thread in the film is the story of the eviction of a blue-collar family from their home. It's pretty infuriating to see a group of sheriff's deputies pry open a house's locked door and force the residents to leave.
Note #1: Michael, I would love to have seen an explanation of how banks set interest rates on their loans, and how much leeway the regulators give them. It seems like they can charge pretty much whatever they want—whatever the market will bear, until the market collapses. Borrowing money while ceding the lender control over interest rates is tantamount to giving away everything you own. Is the Mafia still in business? I can't imagine a mobster nowadays who's scarier than your average bank or credit card company. Okay, this probably is getting boring; I realize you don't want to lose your audience with too many facts. Hey, I'm still watching!
Note #2: those deputies. How about a fantasy sequence where deputies show up at a telemarketing operation and stand over the callers, making sure they aren't using any underhanded sales tactics? Or maybe the deputies go out on the floor of Congress and monitor the speeches for honesty. It's not fair that the guy with the crowbar only shows up at the common man's house. Just a thought.
There's also a section on "dead peasant" insurance, where companies take out insurance policies on their employees' lives. In general, this is a hideous practice. The only logic I can see supporting it is of the "completion bond" variety. (I don't know if that's the right terminology. I'm referring to the insurance a movie producer takes out on the stars during production, since losing the star would be financially disastrous.) But C:ALS documents companies making a killing (if you'll pardon the expression) far out of proportion to the loss they suffer when an employee dies.
Note #3: How does this really work? I mean, insurance companies aren't stupid. If employers are making money with "dead peasant" policies, then the insurance companies must be losing. Is it that the employers know more about their workers' risky lifestyles than the insurance companies do? Or is "dead peasant" insurance just a crapshoot? You do give some examples of companies whose investments in their workers' imminent deaths aren't producing the expected profit.
The film uses Wallace Shawn as an expert on capitalism.
Note #4: Really? Actor and playwright Wallace Shawn? You know what I think? I love it! The guy is both brilliant and down-to-earth. (Anyone who doesn't know this should go out and rent My Dinner with Andre, which is simply a dinner conversation between Shawn and theater director Andre Gregory. Great film, and it demonstrates Shawn's intelligence and rootedness.) Great call!
Then there's the talk about free markets.
Note #5: Michael, this is where you missed the chance to distinguish between free markets and capitalism. Most of us know about the free market. You have various people manufacturing interchangeable products called widgets, and the free market forces these people to compete and offer the public the best price they can. But the first rule for any entrepreneur worth her salt is this: Get away from the free market as soon as you can! Find a niche where no one else is producing a product like yours! Buy out your competitors and form a monopoly! Spend campaign and lobbying dollars to get the legislature to pass laws that favor you and erect barriers to everyone else! The absence of a truly free market is the dominant feature of our capitalist economy.
One of Moore's big themes is capitalism vs. democracy. He asks a museum guard to point out where the Constitution talks about capitalism. Of course there's no such clause. But here is where the documentary is unbalanced. Any sensible expert on the Constitution could explain the protection our form of government gives to the businessman and the property owner. It's not either/or.
Moore uses a couple of corrupt judges as exhibits against capitalism. The judges were bribed by a contractor who provided juvenile detention to send young offenders to their facilities. Sometimes the judges imposed sentences far longer than the prosecutors asked for. The story is truly outrageous, but the judges did eventually go to prison.
Note #6: For this anecdote, I would shift the focus just a little. Privatization is one of the Republican Party's holy words that deserves to be 99% annihilated. Practice has shown that privatization consists of for-profit entities doing government work at higher cost and lower efficiency in order to funnel taxpayer money into the pockets of Republican friends and the campaign treasuries of Republican candidates.
Then there are the stunts. (Sigh.) I am truly tired of scenes of Moore confronting a security guard with his intention to make a citizen's arrest of a corporate honcho, or his empty bags to be filled with money stolen by a corporation. I get it, but the confrontations are a little sad; the security guard probably lunches on bologna or PB&J. It would be cool to see a guard say, "Michael Moore! I love your films, but you can't come in here; our corporate officers don't want to see you." But probably that will never happen, and the security guard harrassment just looks like bullying ... because that's what it is. And yeah, the corporate officers could spare their guards the humiliation by agreeing to an interview. But you shouldn't beat up on the working man just because some scummy CEO hides behind company security. Whoops, I probably should have called that Note #7.
(And I do think back to a previous documentary, where Moore is invited to interview an infirm Charlton Heston and bullies the old man. It's an unpleasant thing to watch, but in retrospect, considering Heston's long affiliation with the NRA—one of our nation's all-time bullies—maybe the old guy had it coming.)
I really intended to be more critical of this documentary than I have ended up being. Stacked up against the absurdities we get from Republicans every day, Moore's distortions often don't seem much more than white lies. My standards have been beaten down by the level of everyday political discourse.
Michael Moore, you lousy bastard: Um, when is your next movie coming out?
Saturday, August 28, 2010
For the Mosque
If I had known the party was going to last this long, I would have arrived sooner.
Really, I thought we'd have a few days of politicians demagoguing, and then we'd move on to the next manufactured crisis. Oh, well. For what it's worth:
A few weeks ago, when I heard about the proposed Islamic mosque and community center a few blocks from Ground Zero, a center where the emphasis would be on tolerance and understanding, it was not difficult to form an opinion. Of course we should allow the mosque to be built; in fact, we should welcome it. This was also the reaction of the local authorities and community, along with a commentator on Fox News and probably a lot of other folks. No-brainer.
Then this summer, a few sharp-eyed politicians spotted an angle, a wedge they could pound on to stoke fear and loathing to their advantage. They've paraded a grab-bag of bogeymen: Islam; the leader behind the mosque; the funding for the mosque; the violation of the sanctity of Ground Zero; the hurt feelings of 9/11 survivors.
Sorry folks. My opinion hasn't changed.
You may detect a lack of energy here. Lordy, I feel like I'm having to explain, for the umpteenth time, why it's good to have an open society. This is like going back to school and repeating civics. Some smarter-than-me fifth-grader can probably do a better job, but here goes. (Or you can skip my feeble prose and read William Saletan's articles here, here, here, here, and here.) As I see it, these are the main arguments against the center, with my responses:
Islam is evil. Well, we certainly have no shortage of people making evil use of Islam these days. The Taliban are lopping off noses in Afghanistan. In many theocracies, women are being sentenced to death for not much more than being women. And Al Qaeda and other terrorist groups are proclaiming death to anyone who disagrees with their world-view—Muslims, Christians, anyone.
But I would hesitate to assign a religion to perdition based on the horrible behavior of a few of its followers. Fifteen years ago, it would have been Christianity in the dock. Catholic Rwandans and Orthodox Christian Serbs had carried out genocidal campaigns against Christians and Muslims they didn't like. If anyone had pointed to these murderers and claimed that's what Christians were like, we would have marked that person down for a liar or a lunatic.
Likewise, anyone today who points at extremist Muslims in Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, or wherever and claims they represent Islam is seriously disconnected with reality. In Houston, we've lived among Muslims for years with no problem. (Remember that basketball star who used to play for the Rockets?)
Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf is not to be trusted. Rauf has spent a lot of time building goodwill toward Islam here and abroad, and he hasn't been afraid to condemn extremists. Christopher Hitchens has found a few objectionable utterances, but this is far from showing the man intends to subvert our society.
You just can't trust those Muslims. This is the blanket version of the distrust issue, and today isn't the first times America has cast an entire group under suspicion. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, we rounded up Japanese-Americans and interned them—just as a precaution, mind you. The President was in on this, as were the Supreme Court and most of the rest of the country. Later we realized what a shameful act this was; the Japanese-Americans were overwhelmingly patriotic. And today I have yet to see any evidence that large numbers of American Muslims are out to destroy our country.
The funding for the center is suspicious. As Jon Stewart has pointed out, the funder of the mosque is also a major stakeholder in Fox News. I think this guy's radicalism may be exaggerated.
Ground Zero is sacred. Fortunately, the Islamic center is proposed for two blocks away. And after the center is built and in use (if that happens), I can easily imagine groups of Muslims walking over to Ground Zero and vowing that never again must Islam be used to justify this sort of atrocity.
Since 9/11, a lot of people in Manhattan have a visceral hatred of Muslims; don't aggravate them. Certainly this is a consideration for Rauf and his followers. They may yet decide to go elsewhere so they don't have to deal with the hostility. But if they decide to see the plan through, how can decent Americans oppose them? It's too much like the old days when blacks were discouraged from moving into white neighborhoods, because there were a lot of whites who hated blacks. Many blacks beat a retreat, but a few went forward. And in many cases integration was disruptive, but ultimately a boon for our country. Segregated America needed to be shaken until its damn teeth rattled. And today's sudden irrational fear of Muslims deserves the same treatment.
Really, I thought we'd have a few days of politicians demagoguing, and then we'd move on to the next manufactured crisis. Oh, well. For what it's worth:
A few weeks ago, when I heard about the proposed Islamic mosque and community center a few blocks from Ground Zero, a center where the emphasis would be on tolerance and understanding, it was not difficult to form an opinion. Of course we should allow the mosque to be built; in fact, we should welcome it. This was also the reaction of the local authorities and community, along with a commentator on Fox News and probably a lot of other folks. No-brainer.
Then this summer, a few sharp-eyed politicians spotted an angle, a wedge they could pound on to stoke fear and loathing to their advantage. They've paraded a grab-bag of bogeymen: Islam; the leader behind the mosque; the funding for the mosque; the violation of the sanctity of Ground Zero; the hurt feelings of 9/11 survivors.
Sorry folks. My opinion hasn't changed.
You may detect a lack of energy here. Lordy, I feel like I'm having to explain, for the umpteenth time, why it's good to have an open society. This is like going back to school and repeating civics. Some smarter-than-me fifth-grader can probably do a better job, but here goes. (Or you can skip my feeble prose and read William Saletan's articles here, here, here, here, and here.) As I see it, these are the main arguments against the center, with my responses:
Islam is evil. Well, we certainly have no shortage of people making evil use of Islam these days. The Taliban are lopping off noses in Afghanistan. In many theocracies, women are being sentenced to death for not much more than being women. And Al Qaeda and other terrorist groups are proclaiming death to anyone who disagrees with their world-view—Muslims, Christians, anyone.
But I would hesitate to assign a religion to perdition based on the horrible behavior of a few of its followers. Fifteen years ago, it would have been Christianity in the dock. Catholic Rwandans and Orthodox Christian Serbs had carried out genocidal campaigns against Christians and Muslims they didn't like. If anyone had pointed to these murderers and claimed that's what Christians were like, we would have marked that person down for a liar or a lunatic.
Likewise, anyone today who points at extremist Muslims in Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, or wherever and claims they represent Islam is seriously disconnected with reality. In Houston, we've lived among Muslims for years with no problem. (Remember that basketball star who used to play for the Rockets?)
Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf is not to be trusted. Rauf has spent a lot of time building goodwill toward Islam here and abroad, and he hasn't been afraid to condemn extremists. Christopher Hitchens has found a few objectionable utterances, but this is far from showing the man intends to subvert our society.
You just can't trust those Muslims. This is the blanket version of the distrust issue, and today isn't the first times America has cast an entire group under suspicion. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, we rounded up Japanese-Americans and interned them—just as a precaution, mind you. The President was in on this, as were the Supreme Court and most of the rest of the country. Later we realized what a shameful act this was; the Japanese-Americans were overwhelmingly patriotic. And today I have yet to see any evidence that large numbers of American Muslims are out to destroy our country.
The funding for the center is suspicious. As Jon Stewart has pointed out, the funder of the mosque is also a major stakeholder in Fox News. I think this guy's radicalism may be exaggerated.
Ground Zero is sacred. Fortunately, the Islamic center is proposed for two blocks away. And after the center is built and in use (if that happens), I can easily imagine groups of Muslims walking over to Ground Zero and vowing that never again must Islam be used to justify this sort of atrocity.
Since 9/11, a lot of people in Manhattan have a visceral hatred of Muslims; don't aggravate them. Certainly this is a consideration for Rauf and his followers. They may yet decide to go elsewhere so they don't have to deal with the hostility. But if they decide to see the plan through, how can decent Americans oppose them? It's too much like the old days when blacks were discouraged from moving into white neighborhoods, because there were a lot of whites who hated blacks. Many blacks beat a retreat, but a few went forward. And in many cases integration was disruptive, but ultimately a boon for our country. Segregated America needed to be shaken until its damn teeth rattled. And today's sudden irrational fear of Muslims deserves the same treatment.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Hell is Jean-Paul Sartre
Sartre did his share to fan the flames of tiers-mondisme, notably in his inflammatory preface to Fanon's already inflamed book. Against the backdrop of decolonization and the Algerian War, he argued that "to shoot down a European is to kill two birds with one stone, to destroy an oppressor and the man he oppresses at the same time: there remain a dead man, and a free man." Sartre's later philosophy was tainted by the link between revolutionary violence and authentic self-realization. In his view, acts of violence committed by the oppressed represent instances of existential self-affirmation: they serve both to eliminate the oppressor and to disrupt the psychology of oppression. In a world where class injustice is rampant, Sartre deemed violence on the part of the oppressed to be inherently "moral," just as colonial violence was intrinsically immoral. Such simplistic oppositions and views became a trademark of Sartre's later "phenomenology of liberation." As late as 1973, at the height of his pro-Chinese phase, Sartre observed crudely that the Jacobin dictatorship failed because its leaders did not kill enough people.
—from "The Counter-Thinker," by Richard Wolin, a review of Pascal Bruckner's book, The Tyranny of Guilt: An Essay on Western Masochism, in the August 12 New Republic.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
LCS 2010: Finale
Really?
Okay, Felipe Esparza is funny. The bit he did tonight about going down to Mexico with his friend was some of the best comedy he's done. And he's unique. And there didn't seem to be a next George Carlin/Robin Williams/Richard Pryor in the group. So, okay. Oh, and my favorites came in second and third. It's not the first time my exacta has been spoiled by a dark horse.
So what else happened?
I thought Iliza Shlesinger had the best performance of the night. High heels, shopping, short women—these are not new topics, but she brought a funny, fresh perspective. And she showed her usual flair for physical humor, impersonating a pugnacious woman taking a punch. I think of her as this generation's Carol Burnett.
Tom Popa was actually quite funny, but for some reason I find myself resisting his humor. He kind of has a cheesy reality show host aura about him.
Kathy Griffin brought her dish, and she had some funny moments.
Hooray for the Best Joke: Kurt Metzger's bit about his father's funeral being ruined by the announcement of Michael Jackson's death. How did this guy not make it into the final ten?
As for the judges ...
I'm guessing Andy Kindler can be funnier. Tonight he made a point with "Last Scientist Standing": Intellectual progress is not the best thing to evaluate by popular vote. (Hmm, does he see stand-up primarily as a way to display his intellect? It can be that, but it can also be a way of having fun and sharing it with a group. Just a thought.)
I just didn't get into Natasha Leggero's rather arch character. Maybe I needed to be more familiar with her shtick.
Greg Giraldo hit some good ideas—the OnStar terrorist bomber commercial, the homeless a cappella singers, food addiction—but he seemed a little rushed. Still funny, though.
Going further downhill ... the documentary shorts and the musical numbers could have been dispensed with. As a host, Craig Robinson was good enough; I'd be happy to see him back next year.
The overall quality of comics, from the semi-finals on, was the best I've seen in the history of the show. The new, more straightforward format served comedy better than in previous seasons, though I missed the "I'm funnier than" showdowns. The action in the house was great back in Season 1 but not so much after that. Sigh. I miss Dave Mordal.
Okay, Felipe Esparza is funny. The bit he did tonight about going down to Mexico with his friend was some of the best comedy he's done. And he's unique. And there didn't seem to be a next George Carlin/Robin Williams/Richard Pryor in the group. So, okay. Oh, and my favorites came in second and third. It's not the first time my exacta has been spoiled by a dark horse.
So what else happened?
I thought Iliza Shlesinger had the best performance of the night. High heels, shopping, short women—these are not new topics, but she brought a funny, fresh perspective. And she showed her usual flair for physical humor, impersonating a pugnacious woman taking a punch. I think of her as this generation's Carol Burnett.
Tom Popa was actually quite funny, but for some reason I find myself resisting his humor. He kind of has a cheesy reality show host aura about him.
Kathy Griffin brought her dish, and she had some funny moments.
Hooray for the Best Joke: Kurt Metzger's bit about his father's funeral being ruined by the announcement of Michael Jackson's death. How did this guy not make it into the final ten?
As for the judges ...
I'm guessing Andy Kindler can be funnier. Tonight he made a point with "Last Scientist Standing": Intellectual progress is not the best thing to evaluate by popular vote. (Hmm, does he see stand-up primarily as a way to display his intellect? It can be that, but it can also be a way of having fun and sharing it with a group. Just a thought.)
I just didn't get into Natasha Leggero's rather arch character. Maybe I needed to be more familiar with her shtick.
Greg Giraldo hit some good ideas—the OnStar terrorist bomber commercial, the homeless a cappella singers, food addiction—but he seemed a little rushed. Still funny, though.
Going further downhill ... the documentary shorts and the musical numbers could have been dispensed with. As a host, Craig Robinson was good enough; I'd be happy to see him back next year.
The overall quality of comics, from the semi-finals on, was the best I've seen in the history of the show. The new, more straightforward format served comedy better than in previous seasons, though I missed the "I'm funnier than" showdowns. The action in the house was great back in Season 1 but not so much after that. Sigh. I miss Dave Mordal.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
LCS 2010: Final 5
Since the elimination of Rachel Feinstein after the show two weeks ago, the final rounds have been all men. The dearth of women comics (and comedy writers) on television has been in the news off and on for the last few years, but here is the chance for Last Comic Standing to make a small gesture of amends! To bring tonight's show up to an hour, they are having a guest comic, and who better to stand in for women than ... overweight redneck comic Ron White? He does a nice set about drinking, being drunk, and understanding drunkenness. Here's to you, ladies!
Jonathan Thymius has finally been eliminated. He had a good run.
Roy Wood, Jr., starts with a word about his uncle the drunk, suggests wristbands to identify non-racist whites, and laments his constantly being enlisted to lie to the wives of married friends. It's the usual funny, smart set.
Tommy Johnagin tells about his redneck uncle—apparently all comics have comedy-worthy uncles—stealing a portable toilet; accidentally going to a gynecologist as a thirteen-year-old; and hitting a deer with his car. I don't think it's up to the level of his previous routines, but the judges like it.
Myq Kaplan likes to start with a quip about what came before him, and tonight he points out that he is not Tommy Johnagin. (Apparently some feel they resemble one another.) I would have given him more points if he had come out and said, "Let me just start off by saying, I don't have any uncles." But he spins a good set, going from gay rights to women's suffrage to an alternate name for manholes. The judges think his is hilarious, hilarious, and so funny. (And really, with the five most talented comics remaining, there's not much for the judges to say.)
Felipe Esparza goes back to the tough childhood well and adds a bit about his gay brother. Andy takes the opportunity to slam Carlos Mencia as a phony (and Felipe as the real deal). Jeez, are people still going after Mencia? It seems a bit dated. Maybe Andy's saving his newer stuff—a whole run on the movie Avatar—till next week. (Kidding.)
Mike DeStefano says Buddhists don't yell, which would have been the perfect time for a heckler to point out Tiger Woods is a Buddhist, just to test DeStefano's improv mettle. That doesn't happen. DeStefano goes on with funny, dark material about a homeless guy and a $20 bill, the proper hammer to brain someone with, and the relative shooting skills of blacks and Italians.
My ranking of tonight's routines, from the top: Wood, DeStefano, Kaplan, Johnagin, and Esparza. But who would I rank as the best comic overall? Probably I'd have Johnagin edging out Wood. These are five talented guys, though. Was Craig Robinson kidding when he said the five of them would be touring together for the next 297 days?
Next week we learn the winner, and we also get to see the judges do some comedy. Yippee.
Jonathan Thymius has finally been eliminated. He had a good run.
Roy Wood, Jr., starts with a word about his uncle the drunk, suggests wristbands to identify non-racist whites, and laments his constantly being enlisted to lie to the wives of married friends. It's the usual funny, smart set.
Tommy Johnagin tells about his redneck uncle—apparently all comics have comedy-worthy uncles—stealing a portable toilet; accidentally going to a gynecologist as a thirteen-year-old; and hitting a deer with his car. I don't think it's up to the level of his previous routines, but the judges like it.
Myq Kaplan likes to start with a quip about what came before him, and tonight he points out that he is not Tommy Johnagin. (Apparently some feel they resemble one another.) I would have given him more points if he had come out and said, "Let me just start off by saying, I don't have any uncles." But he spins a good set, going from gay rights to women's suffrage to an alternate name for manholes. The judges think his is hilarious, hilarious, and so funny. (And really, with the five most talented comics remaining, there's not much for the judges to say.)
Felipe Esparza goes back to the tough childhood well and adds a bit about his gay brother. Andy takes the opportunity to slam Carlos Mencia as a phony (and Felipe as the real deal). Jeez, are people still going after Mencia? It seems a bit dated. Maybe Andy's saving his newer stuff—a whole run on the movie Avatar—till next week. (Kidding.)
Mike DeStefano says Buddhists don't yell, which would have been the perfect time for a heckler to point out Tiger Woods is a Buddhist, just to test DeStefano's improv mettle. That doesn't happen. DeStefano goes on with funny, dark material about a homeless guy and a $20 bill, the proper hammer to brain someone with, and the relative shooting skills of blacks and Italians.
My ranking of tonight's routines, from the top: Wood, DeStefano, Kaplan, Johnagin, and Esparza. But who would I rank as the best comic overall? Probably I'd have Johnagin edging out Wood. These are five talented guys, though. Was Craig Robinson kidding when he said the five of them would be touring together for the next 297 days?
Next week we learn the winner, and we also get to see the judges do some comedy. Yippee.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
LCS 2010: Final 6
In the interim between episodes, NBC or some other lowlife has posted an Internet video of Andy Kindler ranting, Mel Gibson-style, at an LCS contestant. I don't think it's particularly funny, and I wonder if it was Andy's idea, or if the network made him do it.
Back to the show. We have a new ad: A woman and a man lounging in beach chairs, side by side, reading their Kindles. The imagery reminds me of another ad campaign. Sure, she's reading, but he isn't—everyone knows men don't read. He's waiting for the Cialis to kick in.
And saints be praised, we have two musical bits, both of which work. I'll get to one later. The other involves Craig Robinson asking for a drum roll and getting one—on a steel drum. Droll drum roll.
We eventually learn that Rachel Feinstein has been eliminated. Looking back on last week, her naïve/sarcastic character rant about Las Vegas not being the center of the universe's sweetness may have run a bit long. In light of the elimination of Feinstein and Adomian, it looks like people are not into characters.
With only six performing, there's time for each to have a little pre-recorded skit before their bit of stand-up.
Jonathan Thymius has a cute little film about his side business, the Comedy O Gram. His on-stage stuff is the usual: slow, baffling, and sporadically hilarious. (Best line: "Birds.") The judges are puzzled and admiring.
Next up is Roy Wood, Jr., who [We interrupt this blog for a bout of antenna wrestling. Channel 2's broadcast seems to be at war with, well, the atmosphere. Jeez. I mean, would you buy a car if it doesn't get along with, um, roads? So I'm up there, twisting the rabbit ears back and forth, and random unfunny digitized bits are popping up on my TV. Communication is not happening. When I finally start getting a coherent signal, the judges are congratulating Roy for being his usual brilliant self. Luckily NBC makes the episode available for replay on the Internet.]
As I was saying, Roy Wood, Jr., tries to get his mom to wear a sling on her arm to garner sympathy. I give that one polite heh. OK Roy, but our hearts already went out to you when you told us you were from Alabama, our world's third world. In his stand-up bit, Roy talks about a guy who thinks there's a racist conspiracy to short him on chicken nuggets. Then he switches to octomommery: These women who take fertility drugs and end up with multiple births shouldn't keep all the babies; they could go on a show called Last Baby Standing! Pretty funny. In his critique, Andy works in a reference to "Dance Your Ass Off," which is a callback to that video I mentioned earlier. Did Andy do that on his own, or was he "encouraged"?
Myq Kaplan's film is a little song he performs, accompanying himself on guitar. Pretty funny stuff. His stand-up is about cell phone avatars, final (non-)burial instructions, and a run on one of the Final Destination movies. (He kind of assumes people haven't heard of the movie series, but isn't it popular among young audiences?) A lot of Kaplan's humor is, "This is how clever I am. See me being clever? I overwhelm you with my cleverness and my superiority to most of the world." Luckily, he really is quite clever. Natasha delivers an interesting critique—that he would win Last Comedy Writer Standing—which a lot of people probably felt was a put-down; I took it to be a slightly left-handed compliment.
Tommy Johnagin's intro plays up his middle-America roots; he's from St. Louis, and thus America's comic. He does a rapid-fire routine that goes from pregnancy to baby care to a run on masturbation. The judges all think he was very funny, and Andy likes his posture.
Mike DeStefano's little film shows him getting a manicure and pedicure. At the mike, he talks about heroin addiction, has a "good one" about a submission to a Chinese restaurant suggestion box ("free Tibet"), and disses a Blackberry addict. I loved the judges' comments: Natasha—your core audience is in prison; Greg—one of the few likable violent people; and Andy—best set yet.
Felipe Esparza is introduced with a clip on his East L.A. workout routine, which is pretty funny. He talks about Arizona's anti-illegal immigrant law and custody sharing.
My rankings, from top to bottom: Johnagin, Wood, Kaplan, DeStefano, Esparza, Thymius. Yes, I'm hammering on Jonathan Thymius every week. But it would be a pleasure to see his act; I just rank him below these other talented comics.
One more comic will be eliminated. Next week will be the final performance show. (Although I am hoping in the finale Robinson, Kindler, Leggero, and Giraldo will all get a chance to do a bit of stand-up; I'd like to see what they've got.)
Back to the show. We have a new ad: A woman and a man lounging in beach chairs, side by side, reading their Kindles. The imagery reminds me of another ad campaign. Sure, she's reading, but he isn't—everyone knows men don't read. He's waiting for the Cialis to kick in.
And saints be praised, we have two musical bits, both of which work. I'll get to one later. The other involves Craig Robinson asking for a drum roll and getting one—on a steel drum. Droll drum roll.
We eventually learn that Rachel Feinstein has been eliminated. Looking back on last week, her naïve/sarcastic character rant about Las Vegas not being the center of the universe's sweetness may have run a bit long. In light of the elimination of Feinstein and Adomian, it looks like people are not into characters.
With only six performing, there's time for each to have a little pre-recorded skit before their bit of stand-up.
Jonathan Thymius has a cute little film about his side business, the Comedy O Gram. His on-stage stuff is the usual: slow, baffling, and sporadically hilarious. (Best line: "Birds.") The judges are puzzled and admiring.
Next up is Roy Wood, Jr., who [We interrupt this blog for a bout of antenna wrestling. Channel 2's broadcast seems to be at war with, well, the atmosphere. Jeez. I mean, would you buy a car if it doesn't get along with, um, roads? So I'm up there, twisting the rabbit ears back and forth, and random unfunny digitized bits are popping up on my TV. Communication is not happening. When I finally start getting a coherent signal, the judges are congratulating Roy for being his usual brilliant self. Luckily NBC makes the episode available for replay on the Internet.]
As I was saying, Roy Wood, Jr., tries to get his mom to wear a sling on her arm to garner sympathy. I give that one polite heh. OK Roy, but our hearts already went out to you when you told us you were from Alabama, our world's third world. In his stand-up bit, Roy talks about a guy who thinks there's a racist conspiracy to short him on chicken nuggets. Then he switches to octomommery: These women who take fertility drugs and end up with multiple births shouldn't keep all the babies; they could go on a show called Last Baby Standing! Pretty funny. In his critique, Andy works in a reference to "Dance Your Ass Off," which is a callback to that video I mentioned earlier. Did Andy do that on his own, or was he "encouraged"?
Myq Kaplan's film is a little song he performs, accompanying himself on guitar. Pretty funny stuff. His stand-up is about cell phone avatars, final (non-)burial instructions, and a run on one of the Final Destination movies. (He kind of assumes people haven't heard of the movie series, but isn't it popular among young audiences?) A lot of Kaplan's humor is, "This is how clever I am. See me being clever? I overwhelm you with my cleverness and my superiority to most of the world." Luckily, he really is quite clever. Natasha delivers an interesting critique—that he would win Last Comedy Writer Standing—which a lot of people probably felt was a put-down; I took it to be a slightly left-handed compliment.
Tommy Johnagin's intro plays up his middle-America roots; he's from St. Louis, and thus America's comic. He does a rapid-fire routine that goes from pregnancy to baby care to a run on masturbation. The judges all think he was very funny, and Andy likes his posture.
Mike DeStefano's little film shows him getting a manicure and pedicure. At the mike, he talks about heroin addiction, has a "good one" about a submission to a Chinese restaurant suggestion box ("free Tibet"), and disses a Blackberry addict. I loved the judges' comments: Natasha—your core audience is in prison; Greg—one of the few likable violent people; and Andy—best set yet.
Felipe Esparza is introduced with a clip on his East L.A. workout routine, which is pretty funny. He talks about Arizona's anti-illegal immigrant law and custody sharing.
My rankings, from top to bottom: Johnagin, Wood, Kaplan, DeStefano, Esparza, Thymius. Yes, I'm hammering on Jonathan Thymius every week. But it would be a pleasure to see his act; I just rank him below these other talented comics.
One more comic will be eliminated. Next week will be the final performance show. (Although I am hoping in the finale Robinson, Kindler, Leggero, and Giraldo will all get a chance to do a bit of stand-up; I'd like to see what they've got.)
Sunday, July 25, 2010
LCS 2010: Final 7
So ... the comics eliminated were James Adomian, Laurie Kilmartin, and Maronzio Vance. Adomian was my slight favorite last week, but apparently John Adams jokes are not comedy gold.
Seven comics this time, and the judges are back! (Apparently with ten comics performing the producers realized there wouldn't be time to pick up the judges' reactions, but with seven comics they can squeeze the judges in.)
Mike DeStefano starts off the night with a routine that flows nicely. His first joke is about ridiculously expensive soap—which must be so good it can wash out shame; and that leads to him talking about his childhood and his difficulty expressing emotions; and that leads to some relationship jokes. Everyone loves Mike's jokes and persona.
Roy Wood, Jr., talks about soccer, student loans, and black-latino relations. That last bit is especially smart and insightful, and I worry that the general public won't get it. (It involves remembering that there was a civil rights struggle.) The judges like his material and his soothing voice.
Myq Kaplan spends most of his routine making fun of dumb people (who think if someone is smart they must be gay [?]) and emphazising that he is gay-friendly but not actually gay. I've been slowly warming up to Myq and like his set tonight, as do the judges.
Rachel Feinstein does a nice character bit about a drunk propositioning her in Vegas. The judges all love her, though Natasha points out that some viewers may find her Deepak Chopra reference obscure. (See: John Adams.)
Tommy Johnagin jokes about hot girls being dull, a breakup that turned him into a stalker, and a car that wouldn't start because the starter was broken. Natasha like him but didn't think he brought his best material; Greg and Andy approve.
Felipe Esparza is pretty funny while leaning heavily on ethnic humor. Natasha points out that his jokes were "easy" (possibly a nice way of saying they bordered on lazy or clichéd?), and Andy says even if one doesn't like the jokes, one has to like the guy delivering them. Greg loves the set.
And Jonathan Thymius (who I thought would be one of the three eliminated) brings his brand of slow comedy. He has one of the funniest jokes of the night, about going to a massage parlor and getting a more plausible, realistic ending (which Andy cites). But he also has some gags that don't quite work. Natasha calls him silly, gross, and weird, while Greg says he's funny to watch. Early in the series Thymius was one of my favorites, but I'm cooling to him.
How would I rank tonight's routines? From top to bottom, I'd go with DeStefano, Johnagin, Wood, and Kaplan bunched tightly together; followed by Feinstein; followed by Esparza and Thymius, also closely ranked. But even my least favorite bits were funny. One comic will be eliminated, but I have no idea which one.
Seven comics this time, and the judges are back! (Apparently with ten comics performing the producers realized there wouldn't be time to pick up the judges' reactions, but with seven comics they can squeeze the judges in.)
Mike DeStefano starts off the night with a routine that flows nicely. His first joke is about ridiculously expensive soap—which must be so good it can wash out shame; and that leads to him talking about his childhood and his difficulty expressing emotions; and that leads to some relationship jokes. Everyone loves Mike's jokes and persona.
Roy Wood, Jr., talks about soccer, student loans, and black-latino relations. That last bit is especially smart and insightful, and I worry that the general public won't get it. (It involves remembering that there was a civil rights struggle.) The judges like his material and his soothing voice.
Myq Kaplan spends most of his routine making fun of dumb people (who think if someone is smart they must be gay [?]) and emphazising that he is gay-friendly but not actually gay. I've been slowly warming up to Myq and like his set tonight, as do the judges.
Rachel Feinstein does a nice character bit about a drunk propositioning her in Vegas. The judges all love her, though Natasha points out that some viewers may find her Deepak Chopra reference obscure. (See: John Adams.)
Tommy Johnagin jokes about hot girls being dull, a breakup that turned him into a stalker, and a car that wouldn't start because the starter was broken. Natasha like him but didn't think he brought his best material; Greg and Andy approve.
Felipe Esparza is pretty funny while leaning heavily on ethnic humor. Natasha points out that his jokes were "easy" (possibly a nice way of saying they bordered on lazy or clichéd?), and Andy says even if one doesn't like the jokes, one has to like the guy delivering them. Greg loves the set.
And Jonathan Thymius (who I thought would be one of the three eliminated) brings his brand of slow comedy. He has one of the funniest jokes of the night, about going to a massage parlor and getting a more plausible, realistic ending (which Andy cites). But he also has some gags that don't quite work. Natasha calls him silly, gross, and weird, while Greg says he's funny to watch. Early in the series Thymius was one of my favorites, but I'm cooling to him.
How would I rank tonight's routines? From top to bottom, I'd go with DeStefano, Johnagin, Wood, and Kaplan bunched tightly together; followed by Feinstein; followed by Esparza and Thymius, also closely ranked. But even my least favorite bits were funny. One comic will be eliminated, but I have no idea which one.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Under the Radar
Sometimes laziness is good. Or at least it can produce good results, by accident.
Like most papers in the U.S., the Houston Chronicle can't be bothered to review every Bollywood film that comes to town. Or any, actually. So if you're curious about some Hindi film that's showing here, you have to go to Google, or one of the review aggregator sites.
Which is how I found this fun review in the Times of India for the film I Hate Luv Storys. I'm not going to see the movie, but I'm grateful it came to town so I could read the review.
Like most papers in the U.S., the Houston Chronicle can't be bothered to review every Bollywood film that comes to town. Or any, actually. So if you're curious about some Hindi film that's showing here, you have to go to Google, or one of the review aggregator sites.
Which is how I found this fun review in the Times of India for the film I Hate Luv Storys. I'm not going to see the movie, but I'm grateful it came to town so I could read the review.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Advertising for Myself
I've just posted a review of The Missing Person, a detective film starring Michael Shannon, on my blog Second-Chance Cinema.
The Poor Man's Comfort
Some of the people I live among would appear to exist on the margin of society. I was passing one such neighbor today when something occurred to me:
No matter how poor you are, they can never repossess your tattoos.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
LCS 2010: Final 10
Tonight each of the final 10 comics does 2½ minutes of comedy, and the TV audience votes on its favorite; the 3 lowest vote-getters are to be eliminated.
Laurie Kilmartin takes a very long time getting around to a punch line about the "other" woman (with whom her husband was having an affair) being a bad speller. Are we laughing yet? She goes on to talk about her 3-year-old son, and finishes with a darker ending to The Little Engine That Could. Seemed pretty weak.
Felipe Esparza tells a whole series of unrelated jokes, including one about an encounter with a cop which I just didn't get. He leads off with the best—a gag about sharing bunk beds with his brother, and the brother sharing the upper bunk with a wife. Again, not a strong set.
Roy Wood, Jr., does an extended bit about a sports fan mistaking his Izod logo for a Florida Gator; for me the humor didn't build but petered out. He then questioned the popularity of swimming as a sport, and he described his failure as a Career Day speaker (he made the mistake of telling the truth). The last bit was the best, which is how a routine is supposed to work.
Maronzio Vance comes up with an original bit about Pay Attention Man and his sidekick Didn't He Tell You; the bit could have been developed a bit more, but maybe Vance didn't want to invest all his time in one gag. Instead, he goes with a bit which says, in essence, "If you can spell chlamydia, you must have it! Har har!" I'm sure the 12-year-olds in the audience were laughing their heads off.
Rachel Feinstein talks about her mother and grandmother being experts on rap. Apparently middle-aged and older Jewish ladies taking an interest in rap is just a scream. For some.
Tommy Johnagin talks about his mother and his grandmother, and how his grandfather drove a car into a beauty salon. And then he finishes with a couple of ugly stripper jokes.
Jonathan Thymius takes a slow approach to his 2½ minutes; at one point the room goes completely silent. He fiddles with the microphone, does a few weak gags, belches, and pretends his failure is due to lack of juggling equipment.
James Adomian goes after Aesop for being judgmental, and does an extended imitation of Paul Giamatti as a self-loathing John Adams.
Mike DeStefano talks about a friend with too much self-esteem, does a black guys/white guys joke, and tells an anecdote about his work as a drug counselor.
Myq Kaplan talks about his grandmother's work in the grammar police; being a vegan; street musicians; and the correct way of pointing.
It seems like everyone brought their B material this week. Maybe they all figured their chances of continuing were 7 out of 10. I thought Adomian was the best this week (though how much of the audience will make sense of the John Adams material?). Who will be eliminated? Probably Thymius; his style seems like the worst fit to the short time allowed. Maybe Kilmartin and Esparza, but I'm a poor judge of what will be popular.
This was a strong field, despite the weak material tonight. I'm sure each of the 10 could give a very solid 15-minute routine.
Other than the brief time allowed per routine, this format may be the best at sorting out the talent. But I will miss the old format of comics declaring, "I know I'm funnier than ...", followed by an elimination duel between the least respected comic and one or more of their adversaries. Season 1 is still my favorite, with Rich Vos and Dave Mordal scheming (unsuccessfully) against Dat Phan. (Perhaps that whole rivalry was a put-on.) Comics were thrown into odd competitions to try to get an exemption from the showdown. Sometimes these tested their mettle as a comic, and sometimes (often) these were just stupid. One of the better ones was when comics were turned loose in a department store to gather material for prop comedy; the routines were judged, of course, by Carrot Top. Regardless of these side contests, many comics stayed in the overall competition by keeping their heads down. It wasn't fair or a pure measure of comic talent; often it was cheesy and embarrassing; but it was kind of entertaining.
Laurie Kilmartin takes a very long time getting around to a punch line about the "other" woman (with whom her husband was having an affair) being a bad speller. Are we laughing yet? She goes on to talk about her 3-year-old son, and finishes with a darker ending to The Little Engine That Could. Seemed pretty weak.
Felipe Esparza tells a whole series of unrelated jokes, including one about an encounter with a cop which I just didn't get. He leads off with the best—a gag about sharing bunk beds with his brother, and the brother sharing the upper bunk with a wife. Again, not a strong set.
Roy Wood, Jr., does an extended bit about a sports fan mistaking his Izod logo for a Florida Gator; for me the humor didn't build but petered out. He then questioned the popularity of swimming as a sport, and he described his failure as a Career Day speaker (he made the mistake of telling the truth). The last bit was the best, which is how a routine is supposed to work.
Maronzio Vance comes up with an original bit about Pay Attention Man and his sidekick Didn't He Tell You; the bit could have been developed a bit more, but maybe Vance didn't want to invest all his time in one gag. Instead, he goes with a bit which says, in essence, "If you can spell chlamydia, you must have it! Har har!" I'm sure the 12-year-olds in the audience were laughing their heads off.
Rachel Feinstein talks about her mother and grandmother being experts on rap. Apparently middle-aged and older Jewish ladies taking an interest in rap is just a scream. For some.
Tommy Johnagin talks about his mother and his grandmother, and how his grandfather drove a car into a beauty salon. And then he finishes with a couple of ugly stripper jokes.
Jonathan Thymius takes a slow approach to his 2½ minutes; at one point the room goes completely silent. He fiddles with the microphone, does a few weak gags, belches, and pretends his failure is due to lack of juggling equipment.
James Adomian goes after Aesop for being judgmental, and does an extended imitation of Paul Giamatti as a self-loathing John Adams.
Mike DeStefano talks about a friend with too much self-esteem, does a black guys/white guys joke, and tells an anecdote about his work as a drug counselor.
Myq Kaplan talks about his grandmother's work in the grammar police; being a vegan; street musicians; and the correct way of pointing.
It seems like everyone brought their B material this week. Maybe they all figured their chances of continuing were 7 out of 10. I thought Adomian was the best this week (though how much of the audience will make sense of the John Adams material?). Who will be eliminated? Probably Thymius; his style seems like the worst fit to the short time allowed. Maybe Kilmartin and Esparza, but I'm a poor judge of what will be popular.
This was a strong field, despite the weak material tonight. I'm sure each of the 10 could give a very solid 15-minute routine.
Other than the brief time allowed per routine, this format may be the best at sorting out the talent. But I will miss the old format of comics declaring, "I know I'm funnier than ...", followed by an elimination duel between the least respected comic and one or more of their adversaries. Season 1 is still my favorite, with Rich Vos and Dave Mordal scheming (unsuccessfully) against Dat Phan. (Perhaps that whole rivalry was a put-on.) Comics were thrown into odd competitions to try to get an exemption from the showdown. Sometimes these tested their mettle as a comic, and sometimes (often) these were just stupid. One of the better ones was when comics were turned loose in a department store to gather material for prop comedy; the routines were judged, of course, by Carrot Top. Regardless of these side contests, many comics stayed in the overall competition by keeping their heads down. It wasn't fair or a pure measure of comic talent; often it was cheesy and embarrassing; but it was kind of entertaining.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
LCS 2010: Semi-Finals Day 2
So tonight one of our sponsors is a diabetes test; and we also have a repeat of the Plavix commercial (for people who've had a heart attack and don't want another). Good to know the show is staying true to its audience.
And Craig Robinson has trouble staying in the spotlight, because OMG the lights are being run by a cigar-chomping chimp! Can this show get any more cutting-edge?
Among the judges, it's Greg Giraldo's night to shine; he's sharp and interacts well with the comics. Andy's funny too, and Natasha is lively and cheerful. And I suspect she (and probably the other judges, though I'm not paying as close attention) wears the same low-cut outfit as Day 1 so that if they want to the producers can dice and slice and move "Day 1" acts to "Day 2" and vice-versa.
At one point I want to call the judges the Sanhedrin, but that feels vaguely incorrect.
Roy Wood, Jr., starts things off. In his audition I liked his writing, but tonight he brings the whole package, writing and delivery. He talks about bad dates, and cryptic wedding invitations, and how men prepare for the possibility of sex on a date, and how women prepare for the possibility of fighting off sex on a date. All original and funny stuff, and I already want to see him in the final ten.
Fortune Feimster tells a story that revolves around her less-than-stunning looks (and her status as a lesbian). I like her, but I'm only lukewarm on the material, which isn't much more than, hey everybody, look at me, I'm a lesbian stereotype.
Jerry Rocha (from Dallas) does some OK gags, the best of which is an impersonation of a customer service woman at a credit card company.
Guy Torry jokes about Obama; claims to be tripolar; and makes fun of Hillary Clinton in the Iowa caucuses, which manages to be both a dated and obscure reference. The audition joke about the girlfriend with hot sauce in her Louis Vuitton purse may have actually been funnier. Anyway, the judges are unimpressed, and Torry kind of goes off, knowing he's doomed.
Jacob Sirof starts off saying, "That was awkward," acknowledging Torry's meltdown. He makes fun of motorcycle jackets, and then he does an extended bit about breaking into a friend's home and hugging the sleeping friend. I think it was supposed to be about discomfort with possibly gay behavior or something. Maybe I'll wake up tonight understanding the joke and laugh.
Nikki Glaser talks about the advantages of having a baby when you're a teen (your parents are still young enough to raise the kid themselves) which I thought was pretty funny. She then tells some abortion jokes which are probably supposed to be edgy but just feel awkward.
Taylor Williamson is a sort of shlubby fellow who reminds me a bit of Max Wright (though there's not really much resemblance). He tells some strange jokes about a labradoodle and about a camel with tiny humps which I kind of like even though they are puzzling and kind of feel like a misfire.
Nick Cobb does a bit about being stoned when his girlfriend dumps him. I think the jokes are OK, but the judges prefer his other material.
Mike Vecchione talks about his Catholic upbringing, his father's gambling problem, and street hoods using babies as jewelry. Pretty funny.
Cristela Alonzo says she's from the Mexican part of Texas, i.e., Texas. Maybe you have to live in Texas to get the joke. Growing up, she felt sorry for girls with common names; if you were Jennifer, for instance, the kids would have to use a nickname to distinguish you from the other Jennifers—and who wants to be called "mustache Jennifer"? Again we have an instance where the judges prefer a comic's other material.
Kurt Metzger does a bit about Tiger Woods's press conference and throws in a jab at Lady Gaga. Metzger is my favorite comic, but this isn't quite his best.
Laurie Kilmartin continues her bad mother act, and she does a funny bit about a Russian boyfriend.
Tommy Johnagin jokes about babies, pregnancy, and kissing. Say, aren't those in reverse chronological order? Anyway, he aggressively presses the judges to know if he's a finalist. They love his act and his ambition.
Claudia Cogan tells jokes about temp workers. Not great.
Maronzio Vance asks why you get a credit check when you apply for a job; after all, one of the reasons for having a job is to improve your credit. His grandfather once told him to just show up somewhere and start working. (If he isn't picked for the finals, will he show up there anyway?)
Jason Nash imitates baby monitor noises (not too funny) and discusses the proper use of "f* it" by a three-year-old (very funny). The judges are familiar with his act and all love him.
James Adomian complains about a friend who insists he watch "Lost"—all 200-or-so hours. He's also into Gary Busey's weirdness. The judges think he's fantastic and want him to do impressions.
Carmen Lynch talks about Latinos who want to be her boyfriend; they are much shorter than she is and follow her around. I found myself laughing, then thinking, "Hey wait, was that racist?" I like Lynch's deadpan style and wish she had used some other material.
Finally, Brian McKim talks about a place with fine food and adult toys, and he tells pee jokes involving five-year-olds in Phoenix. He's pretty funny, but this is probably the end for him, which is a shame, because he and his wife have a nice blog at sheckymagazine.com.
The comics are called out in groups.
Group 1: Jacob Sirof, James Adomian, Jerry Rocha, Claudia Cogan, and Guy Torry. Torry's no fool; he's carrying his luggage. Adomian is announced as the finalist.
Group 2: Carmen Lynch, Tom Shillue, Roy Wood, Jr., Jason Nash, and Kurt Metzger. Wood deservedly gets the finalist slot, though it's a shame to lose Metzger.
Group 3: Laurie Kilmartin, Nick Cobb, Fortune Feimster, David Cope, and Cristela Alonzo. Kilmartin gets the nod.
Group 4: Nikki Glaser, Taylor Williamson, Tommy Johnagin, and Brian McKim. It's Johnagin.
Group 5: Maronzio Vance and Mike Vecchione. Vance is the finalist.
(Shillue in Group 2 and Cope in Group 3 were actually edited out of the show, but were identified by McKim in his blog and can be seen in a few group shots.)
And Craig Robinson has trouble staying in the spotlight, because OMG the lights are being run by a cigar-chomping chimp! Can this show get any more cutting-edge?
Among the judges, it's Greg Giraldo's night to shine; he's sharp and interacts well with the comics. Andy's funny too, and Natasha is lively and cheerful. And I suspect she (and probably the other judges, though I'm not paying as close attention) wears the same low-cut outfit as Day 1 so that if they want to the producers can dice and slice and move "Day 1" acts to "Day 2" and vice-versa.
At one point I want to call the judges the Sanhedrin, but that feels vaguely incorrect.
Roy Wood, Jr., starts things off. In his audition I liked his writing, but tonight he brings the whole package, writing and delivery. He talks about bad dates, and cryptic wedding invitations, and how men prepare for the possibility of sex on a date, and how women prepare for the possibility of fighting off sex on a date. All original and funny stuff, and I already want to see him in the final ten.
Fortune Feimster tells a story that revolves around her less-than-stunning looks (and her status as a lesbian). I like her, but I'm only lukewarm on the material, which isn't much more than, hey everybody, look at me, I'm a lesbian stereotype.
Jerry Rocha (from Dallas) does some OK gags, the best of which is an impersonation of a customer service woman at a credit card company.
Guy Torry jokes about Obama; claims to be tripolar; and makes fun of Hillary Clinton in the Iowa caucuses, which manages to be both a dated and obscure reference. The audition joke about the girlfriend with hot sauce in her Louis Vuitton purse may have actually been funnier. Anyway, the judges are unimpressed, and Torry kind of goes off, knowing he's doomed.
Jacob Sirof starts off saying, "That was awkward," acknowledging Torry's meltdown. He makes fun of motorcycle jackets, and then he does an extended bit about breaking into a friend's home and hugging the sleeping friend. I think it was supposed to be about discomfort with possibly gay behavior or something. Maybe I'll wake up tonight understanding the joke and laugh.
Nikki Glaser talks about the advantages of having a baby when you're a teen (your parents are still young enough to raise the kid themselves) which I thought was pretty funny. She then tells some abortion jokes which are probably supposed to be edgy but just feel awkward.
Taylor Williamson is a sort of shlubby fellow who reminds me a bit of Max Wright (though there's not really much resemblance). He tells some strange jokes about a labradoodle and about a camel with tiny humps which I kind of like even though they are puzzling and kind of feel like a misfire.
Nick Cobb does a bit about being stoned when his girlfriend dumps him. I think the jokes are OK, but the judges prefer his other material.
Mike Vecchione talks about his Catholic upbringing, his father's gambling problem, and street hoods using babies as jewelry. Pretty funny.
Cristela Alonzo says she's from the Mexican part of Texas, i.e., Texas. Maybe you have to live in Texas to get the joke. Growing up, she felt sorry for girls with common names; if you were Jennifer, for instance, the kids would have to use a nickname to distinguish you from the other Jennifers—and who wants to be called "mustache Jennifer"? Again we have an instance where the judges prefer a comic's other material.
Kurt Metzger does a bit about Tiger Woods's press conference and throws in a jab at Lady Gaga. Metzger is my favorite comic, but this isn't quite his best.
Laurie Kilmartin continues her bad mother act, and she does a funny bit about a Russian boyfriend.
Tommy Johnagin jokes about babies, pregnancy, and kissing. Say, aren't those in reverse chronological order? Anyway, he aggressively presses the judges to know if he's a finalist. They love his act and his ambition.
Claudia Cogan tells jokes about temp workers. Not great.
Maronzio Vance asks why you get a credit check when you apply for a job; after all, one of the reasons for having a job is to improve your credit. His grandfather once told him to just show up somewhere and start working. (If he isn't picked for the finals, will he show up there anyway?)
Jason Nash imitates baby monitor noises (not too funny) and discusses the proper use of "f* it" by a three-year-old (very funny). The judges are familiar with his act and all love him.
James Adomian complains about a friend who insists he watch "Lost"—all 200-or-so hours. He's also into Gary Busey's weirdness. The judges think he's fantastic and want him to do impressions.
Carmen Lynch talks about Latinos who want to be her boyfriend; they are much shorter than she is and follow her around. I found myself laughing, then thinking, "Hey wait, was that racist?" I like Lynch's deadpan style and wish she had used some other material.
Finally, Brian McKim talks about a place with fine food and adult toys, and he tells pee jokes involving five-year-olds in Phoenix. He's pretty funny, but this is probably the end for him, which is a shame, because he and his wife have a nice blog at sheckymagazine.com.
The comics are called out in groups.
Group 1: Jacob Sirof, James Adomian, Jerry Rocha, Claudia Cogan, and Guy Torry. Torry's no fool; he's carrying his luggage. Adomian is announced as the finalist.
Group 2: Carmen Lynch, Tom Shillue, Roy Wood, Jr., Jason Nash, and Kurt Metzger. Wood deservedly gets the finalist slot, though it's a shame to lose Metzger.
Group 3: Laurie Kilmartin, Nick Cobb, Fortune Feimster, David Cope, and Cristela Alonzo. Kilmartin gets the nod.
Group 4: Nikki Glaser, Taylor Williamson, Tommy Johnagin, and Brian McKim. It's Johnagin.
Group 5: Maronzio Vance and Mike Vecchione. Vance is the finalist.
(Shillue in Group 2 and Cope in Group 3 were actually edited out of the show, but were identified by McKim in his blog and can be seen in a few group shots.)
Sunday, July 4, 2010
A Normal Pare Activity
I watched the film Paranormal Activity on DVD this weekend. It was about a day trader, Micah, and his girlfriend Katie who lived with him in a San Diego house. There had been some thumping sounds, and objects were being moved around in the house, so Micah bought a fancy camera to find out what was going on.
The movie was very suspenseful. Most of the time I was on the edge of my seat, wondering one thing: Will Micah persuade Katie to strip-tease for the camera?
I may have missed the point of the movie. Did I miss the point?
Sorry for the title.
My very brief review of Paranormal Activity:
The movie was very suspenseful. Most of the time I was on the edge of my seat, wondering one thing: Will Micah persuade Katie to strip-tease for the camera?
I may have missed the point of the movie. Did I miss the point?
Sorry for the title.
My very brief review of Paranormal Activity:
Saturday, July 3, 2010
End of the Road
I finished reading On the Road the other day. I had put the book off for many years because I thought it would be a difficult read, and an outdated one as well. I was expecting a rambling stream-of-consciousness narrative, eccentric and dense. (After all, Kerouac did put his manuscript on a 120-foot-long scroll.) I guess "rambling" does apply—it's a story about rambling, after all—but otherwise I found it very readable. In fact, I ended up loving the book and would rank it as one of the great American novels, along with The Scarlet Letter, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and The Adventures of Augie March. Here's a passage that gives the flavor of Kerouac's writing:
I suspect "dig" will be part of my everyday vocabulary for a while.
I kept picturing Nick Nolte as Dean Moriarty, apparently because I saw him play Neal Cassady in the 1980 film Heart Beat. By the way, a film version of On the Road is in pre-production; it's to be made by the director of The Motorcycle Diaries. I'm not familiar with the male leads, but the female leads are set to be Kristen Stewart and Kirsten Dunst.
Next up: Elmer Gantry, by Sinclair Lewis. This is not going to be a masterpiece but I'm hoping for a good read at least. I dig the first sentence:
Meanwhile Dean and I went out to dig the streets of Mexican San Antonio. It was fragrant and soft—the softest air I'd ever known—and dark, and mysterious, and buzzing. Sudden dark. Dean crept along and said not a word. "Oh, this is too wonderful to do anything!" he whispered. "Let's just creep along and see everything. Look! Look! A crazy San Antonio pool shack." We went in. A dozen boys were shooting pool at three tables, all Mexicans. Dean and I bought Cokes and shoved nickels in the jukebox and played Wynonie Blues Harris and Lionel Hampton and Lucky Millinder and jumped. Meanwhile Dean warned me to watch.
"Dig, now, out of the corner of your eye and as we listen to Wynonie blow about his baby's pudding and as we also smell the soft air as you say—dig the kid, the crippled kid shooting pool at table one, the butt of the joint's jokes, y'see, he's been the butt all his life. The other fellows are merciless but they love him."
The crippled kid was some kind of malformed midget with a great big beautiful face, much too large, in which enormous brown eyes moistly gleamed. "Don't you see, Sal, a San Antonio Mex Tom Snark, the same story the world over. See, they hit him on the ass with a cue? Ha-ha-ha! hear them laugh. You see, he wants to win the game, he's bet four bits. Watch! Watch!" We watched as the angelic young midget aimed for a bank shot. He missed. The other fellows roared. "Ah, man," said Dean, "and now watch." They had the little boy by the scruff of the neck and were mauling him around, playful. He squealed. He stalked out in the night but not without a backward bashful, sweet glance. "Ah, man, I'd love to know that gone little cat and what he thinks and what kind of girls he has—oh, man, I'm high on this air!" ...
I suspect "dig" will be part of my everyday vocabulary for a while.
I kept picturing Nick Nolte as Dean Moriarty, apparently because I saw him play Neal Cassady in the 1980 film Heart Beat. By the way, a film version of On the Road is in pre-production; it's to be made by the director of The Motorcycle Diaries. I'm not familiar with the male leads, but the female leads are set to be Kristen Stewart and Kirsten Dunst.
Next up: Elmer Gantry, by Sinclair Lewis. This is not going to be a masterpiece but I'm hoping for a good read at least. I dig the first sentence:
Elmer Gantry was drunk.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
LCS 2010: Semi-Finals Day 1
NBC has been flogging The Event. A lot of strange things have happened, but none is the event! My best guess: It's that stupid capital "E" that turns around, ominously. Yes, that's right; The Event is a bit of trick typography. This show is penciled into my must-not-watch list.
I was hoping Craig Robinson might get to do a short stand-up bit, but no luck. Instead, he sits in a chair and pets a long-haired white cat. A well-brushed cat, I might add; otherwise, with every stroke there would be a cloud of cat hair floating down to the stage floor. Hey, a lot of people have cat allergies. Hope all you comics have had your allergy shots!
Tonight we see the first group of semi-finalists. Each does a short bit and then receives a critique from the three judges. I think this is new to Last Comic Standing, but probably matches what's done on a lot of other reality shows I don't watch. The problem is, every comic we see is fairly talented, so we hear a lot of "hilarious," "very funny," and "great material" from the judges. Kudos to them for not coming up with a lot of phony critiques, but they must have felt like broken records by the end of the evening.
First up is Myq Kaplan, who makes fun of religion—in particular, religious homophobia. It's funny, but yikes!—is it too edgy for broadcast TV?
Jamie Lee (who was identified as being from Dallas) talks about rooming in New York with a model who does coke. She also talks about being in a relationship with a comedian. Pretty good stuff.
Mike DeStefano continues to lean on his Italian ethnicity and rough upbringing. In the old neighborhood, even the Chinese guys had Italian names. Quite funny, but how far can he go doing a "character"?
Kyle Grooms talks about Jersey being hated, and about Detroit being worse off than Haiti. Not bad, but it would have been a lot funnier a decade ago.
Shane Mauss goes dark with a bit about a horrible amusement park accident inconveniencing the people waiting in line. It's better than his previous Seinfeldian bit, though somewhat in the same spirit. Is "I'm a jerk" all he has?
Adrienne Iapalucci talks about her mother; and again she explains that she doesn't hit kids. (She just manipulates them into hitting each other.) Funny and a bit edgy.
Felipe Esparza talks about the creepy people he sees on the bus and makes fun of his own looks. Just a wan smile from me.
Jonathan Thymius slouches up to the mike and does a funny/gross gag about stomach surgery. He does a joke about his wife, and then does a slow-developing ventriloquism bit. I love this guy's delivery, even though half his material keeps getting mail from AARP.
Lil' Rel does an extended bit about his mother's funeral, portraying some stereotypical characters from the black church. I'm only slightly amused.
Jason Weems contrasts the greeter when he enters a certain chain store with theracial profiler security officer who inspects his package as he leaves. He also tells a VCR joke (needs updating?) and describes an encounter with a, um, racially-aware kid. The material's funny but a little out of date.
Ryan Hamilton tells a funny skydiving story. If you dig skydiving, you laugh; otherwise, meh.
Paula Bel commiserates with the Obamas, talks about life without health insurance, and jokes about pedophile priests. Funny, but that last bit was on a trite topic.
Jesse Joyce improves over his monkey roadkill bit from the tryouts, but his story about getting caught in a traffic jam that he had caused is a little thin on laughs and even a bit hard to understand.
Rachel Feinstein talks about a guy with big hips and other men with a strong feminine/feminist side. OK.
Kirk Fox tells a long story about an infirm upstairs neighbor with a gun. Pretty good payoff—not great.
Amanda Melson talks about working for an employer who wants to be edgy and cool—the clothing drive for the homeless should not include any unfashionable jeans, fer gawd's sake. I smiled.
Chip Pope makes a halfhearted joke about office work, then talks about growing up poor and gay. (They couldn't afford a closet for him to come out of.) He does a passable Paul Simon impression.
Alycia Cooper talks about airport security checks and Tiger Woods's mistresses. There's some talent there, but I wasn't greatly amused.
David Feldman talks about his two daughters and the bad choices they are already making at a young age. He also talks about women who don't listen. I give the first bit a thumbs up for edginess; otherwise, so-so.
Wait, that's all we get? Yep, we've been listening to severely truncated stand-up for an hour and forty-five minutes, and it's time to announce the finalists.
The semi-finalists are organized into groups; each group will have one finalist announced.
Group 1 is Amanda Melson, Felipe Esparza, Alycia Cooper, and two guys who are carefully kept off-camera. (One of them is named Joe List, according to Brian McKim's blog. [Update July 17: The other is Jeff Maurer, according to McKim.]) Of the three on-camera comics, I'd probably go with Amanda Melson; but the finalist is Felipe Esparza.
Group 2 is Paula Bel, David Feldman, Myq Kaplan, Kyle Grooms, and two more off-camera guys. (They turn out to be the comedy duo of Stuckey & Murray.) Feldman had the best material, I thought, though I wouldn't complain if Bel were promoted; but Kaplan is the finalist. Well, if you like seeing organized religion smacked in the teeth (and there are definitely times when I can go for that), Kaplan's your guy.
Group 3 is Rachel Feinstein, Kirk Fox, Adrienne Iapalucci, Jason Weems, and Shane Mauss. I'd probably rank them Iapalucci, Mauss, Feinstein, Fix, and Weems. Feinstein is the finalist.
Group 4: Lil' Rel, Ryan Hamilton, Mike DeStefano, Jamie Lee, Chip Pope. Easy pick: DeStefano, though eventually I want to see more than Italian tough-guy jokes.
Group 5: Jesse Joyce and Jonathan Thymius. Thymius is my overall favorite for the night, and he goes to the finals.
My ranking of the finalists: Thymius (best), DeStefano, Feinstein, Kaplan, and Esparza. But every one of the semi-finalists tonight gave me at least one smile. A talented group.
I was hoping Craig Robinson might get to do a short stand-up bit, but no luck. Instead, he sits in a chair and pets a long-haired white cat. A well-brushed cat, I might add; otherwise, with every stroke there would be a cloud of cat hair floating down to the stage floor. Hey, a lot of people have cat allergies. Hope all you comics have had your allergy shots!
Tonight we see the first group of semi-finalists. Each does a short bit and then receives a critique from the three judges. I think this is new to Last Comic Standing, but probably matches what's done on a lot of other reality shows I don't watch. The problem is, every comic we see is fairly talented, so we hear a lot of "hilarious," "very funny," and "great material" from the judges. Kudos to them for not coming up with a lot of phony critiques, but they must have felt like broken records by the end of the evening.
First up is Myq Kaplan, who makes fun of religion—in particular, religious homophobia. It's funny, but yikes!—is it too edgy for broadcast TV?
Jamie Lee (who was identified as being from Dallas) talks about rooming in New York with a model who does coke. She also talks about being in a relationship with a comedian. Pretty good stuff.
Mike DeStefano continues to lean on his Italian ethnicity and rough upbringing. In the old neighborhood, even the Chinese guys had Italian names. Quite funny, but how far can he go doing a "character"?
Kyle Grooms talks about Jersey being hated, and about Detroit being worse off than Haiti. Not bad, but it would have been a lot funnier a decade ago.
Shane Mauss goes dark with a bit about a horrible amusement park accident inconveniencing the people waiting in line. It's better than his previous Seinfeldian bit, though somewhat in the same spirit. Is "I'm a jerk" all he has?
Adrienne Iapalucci talks about her mother; and again she explains that she doesn't hit kids. (She just manipulates them into hitting each other.) Funny and a bit edgy.
Felipe Esparza talks about the creepy people he sees on the bus and makes fun of his own looks. Just a wan smile from me.
Jonathan Thymius slouches up to the mike and does a funny/gross gag about stomach surgery. He does a joke about his wife, and then does a slow-developing ventriloquism bit. I love this guy's delivery, even though half his material keeps getting mail from AARP.
Lil' Rel does an extended bit about his mother's funeral, portraying some stereotypical characters from the black church. I'm only slightly amused.
Jason Weems contrasts the greeter when he enters a certain chain store with the
Ryan Hamilton tells a funny skydiving story. If you dig skydiving, you laugh; otherwise, meh.
Paula Bel commiserates with the Obamas, talks about life without health insurance, and jokes about pedophile priests. Funny, but that last bit was on a trite topic.
Jesse Joyce improves over his monkey roadkill bit from the tryouts, but his story about getting caught in a traffic jam that he had caused is a little thin on laughs and even a bit hard to understand.
Rachel Feinstein talks about a guy with big hips and other men with a strong feminine/feminist side. OK.
Kirk Fox tells a long story about an infirm upstairs neighbor with a gun. Pretty good payoff—not great.
Amanda Melson talks about working for an employer who wants to be edgy and cool—the clothing drive for the homeless should not include any unfashionable jeans, fer gawd's sake. I smiled.
Chip Pope makes a halfhearted joke about office work, then talks about growing up poor and gay. (They couldn't afford a closet for him to come out of.) He does a passable Paul Simon impression.
Alycia Cooper talks about airport security checks and Tiger Woods's mistresses. There's some talent there, but I wasn't greatly amused.
David Feldman talks about his two daughters and the bad choices they are already making at a young age. He also talks about women who don't listen. I give the first bit a thumbs up for edginess; otherwise, so-so.
Wait, that's all we get? Yep, we've been listening to severely truncated stand-up for an hour and forty-five minutes, and it's time to announce the finalists.
The semi-finalists are organized into groups; each group will have one finalist announced.
Group 1 is Amanda Melson, Felipe Esparza, Alycia Cooper, and two guys who are carefully kept off-camera. (One of them is named Joe List, according to Brian McKim's blog. [Update July 17: The other is Jeff Maurer, according to McKim.]) Of the three on-camera comics, I'd probably go with Amanda Melson; but the finalist is Felipe Esparza.
Group 2 is Paula Bel, David Feldman, Myq Kaplan, Kyle Grooms, and two more off-camera guys. (They turn out to be the comedy duo of Stuckey & Murray.) Feldman had the best material, I thought, though I wouldn't complain if Bel were promoted; but Kaplan is the finalist. Well, if you like seeing organized religion smacked in the teeth (and there are definitely times when I can go for that), Kaplan's your guy.
Group 3 is Rachel Feinstein, Kirk Fox, Adrienne Iapalucci, Jason Weems, and Shane Mauss. I'd probably rank them Iapalucci, Mauss, Feinstein, Fix, and Weems. Feinstein is the finalist.
Group 4: Lil' Rel, Ryan Hamilton, Mike DeStefano, Jamie Lee, Chip Pope. Easy pick: DeStefano, though eventually I want to see more than Italian tough-guy jokes.
Group 5: Jesse Joyce and Jonathan Thymius. Thymius is my overall favorite for the night, and he goes to the finals.
My ranking of the finalists: Thymius (best), DeStefano, Feinstein, Kaplan, and Esparza. But every one of the semi-finalists tonight gave me at least one smile. A talented group.
Monday, June 28, 2010
"Shheee-it!"
One of the many delightful characters in the TV show The Wire is State Senator Clay Davis, played by Isiah Whitlock Jr. Davis had a characteristic expression—shheee-it!—that he used to punctuate his speech. Earlier in his career, Whitlock had played a character in the movie 25th Hour who used the same expression.
Now I come across "Shheee-it!" in On the Road, spoken by a tenor saxophonist in San Francisco. Presumably it's not an invention of Kerouac's; perhaps he heard it under circumstances similar to those in the novel.
I wonder if the two usages have a common root.
Now I come across "Shheee-it!" in On the Road, spoken by a tenor saxophonist in San Francisco. Presumably it's not an invention of Kerouac's; perhaps he heard it under circumstances similar to those in the novel.
I wonder if the two usages have a common root.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
LCS 2010: New York Day 2
This week's sponsor: Hebrew National Hot Dogs. Because we're in New York? And a housepaint that eliminates odors you don't even know you have. At last I have something to cover up the smell of that dead squirrel behind the paneling.
This week's montage: Jew jokes, from humdrum stereotypes to the anti-Semitic. These seem to be told mainly by gentiles, and Andy no like. I'm more or less with Andy. Ethnic/racial humor told by people within the ethnicity/race can be funny and sharp. (It can also be lazy and trite.) Told by people outside the group, such humor trends offensive.
We're shown a few people who audition but don't make the evening show: a comedy robot (who probably deserved better; he seemed to have at least as much potential as the gorilla-costumed Mel Silverback from a few years back); a mock religious couple whose ironic gag triggers the montage described above; and a couple of other forgettables. On to the evening show!
Kyle Grooms auditions with an OK Obama impression, but he's better in the evening show, making fun of his own name ("Kyle" is not a name to intimidate anyone) and glasses. He gets a ticket to the semi-finals.
Nikki Glaser tried the show four years ago and wasn't ready. This time she brings some pretty good relationship humor. She tells about public displays of affection making her jealous; one time she was getting seriously cheesed off with one couple—the guy was carrying the woman—until she realized he was putting her into a wheelchair. Nikki gets a ticket.
Jerry Rocha, a Latino from Dallas, lays on the ethnic humor. He says he's thirty-two and dating a twenty-year-old girl, which makes him older than her parents. Which is both offensive and pretty damn funny. He goes to semis.
Traci Skene goes with the relationship jokes. In her audition she suggests that if hair care products are meant to attract men, they should smell like meat. (Maybe "bacon" would have been a funnier word choice for her.) In the evening show she tells about doing a comedy gig during a snowstorm. The audience is all married couples who have nothing better to do; all the unmarried couples are at home having sex. No ticket for her; I have to believe she just missed the cut.
Ryan Hamilton from Idaho jokes about New Yorkers' ignorance of the interior; anyone not from the East or West coast must be from the Midwest. He gets a ticket.
Calise Hawkins talks about being a bad single mother—she has a three-year-old. Unfortunately the bad mother slot has already been filled, so Calise is done.
Myq Kaplan's boob joke is apparently enough to get him to the semis.
Brian McKim has a funny/gross bit about his flu shot giving him license to, say, lick the buttons in an elevator. He gets a ticket. By the way, he's married to Traci, who didn't get a ticket. No sex for him tonight.
Carmen Lynch tells about her therapist warning her not to regress, saying as illustration, "After all, you can't put the egg back in the chicken." Now she's obsessed with getting a chicken and trying to shove an egg into it. Her deadpan style is very funny, reminding me of Aubrey Plaza of Parks and Recreation. She goes to semis.
Mike Vecchione tells sports jokes. We think of drugs and sports going together, but cocaine and fishing is a no-go. He also has a funny observation about the fencing uniform (something about beekeeping). He gets a ticket.
Rob O'Reilly probably thinks too much. His audition is about puns, and in the evening show he insists you can compare apples and oranges—they're both fruit, after all. Not funny enough for the semi-finals.
Jason Weems questions Magic Johnson's claim (at Michael Jackson's memorial) that eating chicken with Jacko was the best moment of his life. He gets a ticket. That makes two comics using Michael Jackson's death as a career stepping stone. Such a brutal business.
Adrienne Iapalucci portrays herself as a kid-hating racist, but in a funny enough way (she avoids blacks on the street, which is a problem when she runs into her black boyfriend; she doesn't beat kids, but she can make 'em flinch) to move on to the semis.
Nick Cobb's audition (whispering is creepy) is as funny as his bit on the evening show (for men, getting down on one knee is good; two knees is bad; with many illustrations), and he gets a ticket.
That's eleven winners tonight. On to the semi-finals next week.
I had thought there would be a show devoted to auditions by special invitees (people not from Los Angeles or New York), but apparently those folks were seeded into the LA and NY shows (hence the comics from Texas, Idaho, and other parts). I wonder if the show paid for their transportation. Or perhaps they were told they had a very solid shot at the semis if they brought something close to their A games.
This week's montage: Jew jokes, from humdrum stereotypes to the anti-Semitic. These seem to be told mainly by gentiles, and Andy no like. I'm more or less with Andy. Ethnic/racial humor told by people within the ethnicity/race can be funny and sharp. (It can also be lazy and trite.) Told by people outside the group, such humor trends offensive.
We're shown a few people who audition but don't make the evening show: a comedy robot (who probably deserved better; he seemed to have at least as much potential as the gorilla-costumed Mel Silverback from a few years back); a mock religious couple whose ironic gag triggers the montage described above; and a couple of other forgettables. On to the evening show!
Kyle Grooms auditions with an OK Obama impression, but he's better in the evening show, making fun of his own name ("Kyle" is not a name to intimidate anyone) and glasses. He gets a ticket to the semi-finals.
Nikki Glaser tried the show four years ago and wasn't ready. This time she brings some pretty good relationship humor. She tells about public displays of affection making her jealous; one time she was getting seriously cheesed off with one couple—the guy was carrying the woman—until she realized he was putting her into a wheelchair. Nikki gets a ticket.
Jerry Rocha, a Latino from Dallas, lays on the ethnic humor. He says he's thirty-two and dating a twenty-year-old girl, which makes him older than her parents. Which is both offensive and pretty damn funny. He goes to semis.
Traci Skene goes with the relationship jokes. In her audition she suggests that if hair care products are meant to attract men, they should smell like meat. (Maybe "bacon" would have been a funnier word choice for her.) In the evening show she tells about doing a comedy gig during a snowstorm. The audience is all married couples who have nothing better to do; all the unmarried couples are at home having sex. No ticket for her; I have to believe she just missed the cut.
Ryan Hamilton from Idaho jokes about New Yorkers' ignorance of the interior; anyone not from the East or West coast must be from the Midwest. He gets a ticket.
Calise Hawkins talks about being a bad single mother—she has a three-year-old. Unfortunately the bad mother slot has already been filled, so Calise is done.
Myq Kaplan's boob joke is apparently enough to get him to the semis.
Brian McKim has a funny/gross bit about his flu shot giving him license to, say, lick the buttons in an elevator. He gets a ticket. By the way, he's married to Traci, who didn't get a ticket. No sex for him tonight.
Carmen Lynch tells about her therapist warning her not to regress, saying as illustration, "After all, you can't put the egg back in the chicken." Now she's obsessed with getting a chicken and trying to shove an egg into it. Her deadpan style is very funny, reminding me of Aubrey Plaza of Parks and Recreation. She goes to semis.
Mike Vecchione tells sports jokes. We think of drugs and sports going together, but cocaine and fishing is a no-go. He also has a funny observation about the fencing uniform (something about beekeeping). He gets a ticket.
Rob O'Reilly probably thinks too much. His audition is about puns, and in the evening show he insists you can compare apples and oranges—they're both fruit, after all. Not funny enough for the semi-finals.
Jason Weems questions Magic Johnson's claim (at Michael Jackson's memorial) that eating chicken with Jacko was the best moment of his life. He gets a ticket. That makes two comics using Michael Jackson's death as a career stepping stone. Such a brutal business.
Adrienne Iapalucci portrays herself as a kid-hating racist, but in a funny enough way (she avoids blacks on the street, which is a problem when she runs into her black boyfriend; she doesn't beat kids, but she can make 'em flinch) to move on to the semis.
Nick Cobb's audition (whispering is creepy) is as funny as his bit on the evening show (for men, getting down on one knee is good; two knees is bad; with many illustrations), and he gets a ticket.
That's eleven winners tonight. On to the semi-finals next week.
I had thought there would be a show devoted to auditions by special invitees (people not from Los Angeles or New York), but apparently those folks were seeded into the LA and NY shows (hence the comics from Texas, Idaho, and other parts). I wonder if the show paid for their transportation. Or perhaps they were told they had a very solid shot at the semis if they brought something close to their A games.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Dog, Man, Book
Big Biped puts my supper dish on the carpet. It has kibble with bits of canned food mixed in. I nose around and eat the canned food, along with a few bits of kibble for politeness. I'll get back to the kibble later if I can't cadge some treats.
Big Biped is in his recliner reading a book. I sit down under the piano and give him the alert look. "You want to sit up here?" he says, scooting to one side. I hop up, turn around, and lie down next to him. It's snug.
A box fan stands on a TV tray, next to the curve of the piano. The fan rattles and whispers and pushes us a soft breeze.
Big Biped is reading Kerouac.
To be on the road. Heaven.
Big Biped is in his recliner reading a book. I sit down under the piano and give him the alert look. "You want to sit up here?" he says, scooting to one side. I hop up, turn around, and lie down next to him. It's snug.
A box fan stands on a TV tray, next to the curve of the piano. The fan rattles and whispers and pushes us a soft breeze.
Big Biped is reading Kerouac.
I walked along the tracks in the long sad October light of the valley, hoping for an SP freight to come along so I could join the grape-eating hobos and read the funnies with them. It didn't come. I got out on the highway and hitched a ride at once. It was the fastest, whoopingest ride of my life. The driver was a fiddler for a California cowboy band. He had a brand-new car and drove eighty miles an hour. "I don't drink when I drive," he said and handed me a pint. I took a drink and offered him one. "What the hail," he said and drank. We made Sabinal to LA in the amazing time of four hours flat about 250 miles....
To be on the road. Heaven.
Nonsense
"Do you think I care if they talk nonsense? Hogwash! Talking nonsense is man's only privilege that distinguishes him from all other organisms. If you keep talking big nonsense, you will get to sense. I am a man, therefore I talk nonsense. Nobody ever got a single truth without talking nonsense fourteen times first. Maybe even a hundred and fourteen. That's all right in its own way. We don't even know how to talk nonsense intelligently, though!"Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment; as quoted by Charles Bowden in Contested Ground; as excerpted in the January 2010 Harper's.
Yeah, that's what this blog is—the nonsense I write in order to eventually get to sense.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Recipe: Spinach Balls
2 10-ounce packages frozen chopped spinach
1 6-ounce package chicken Stove Top dressing
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
6 eggs, lightly beaten
¾ cup melted butter
salt and pepper to taste
Cook spinach according to directions and drain in a sieve. Use back of a wooden spoon to press against sieve to get out as much moisture as possible.
In a bowl combine all ingredients. Mix thoroughly. Shape balls ¾ to 1 inch in size (a melon baller or small ice cream scoop can be used for this) and place on a cookie sheet. This can be placed in a plastic bag and frozen.
Bake at 350° F. If fresh or thawed, bake 7-10 minutes. If frozen, bake 10-15 minutes.
This is the recipe my mother has used for many years; I don't know where it originated. Nowadays it's hard to find 10-ounce packages of frozen spinach; you may have to rely on higher math to figure out how to get 20 ounces out of a couple of 16-ounce bags. I'm confident you can do it.
1 6-ounce package chicken Stove Top dressing
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
6 eggs, lightly beaten
¾ cup melted butter
salt and pepper to taste
Cook spinach according to directions and drain in a sieve. Use back of a wooden spoon to press against sieve to get out as much moisture as possible.
In a bowl combine all ingredients. Mix thoroughly. Shape balls ¾ to 1 inch in size (a melon baller or small ice cream scoop can be used for this) and place on a cookie sheet. This can be placed in a plastic bag and frozen.
Bake at 350° F. If fresh or thawed, bake 7-10 minutes. If frozen, bake 10-15 minutes.
This is the recipe my mother has used for many years; I don't know where it originated. Nowadays it's hard to find 10-ounce packages of frozen spinach; you may have to rely on higher math to figure out how to get 20 ounces out of a couple of 16-ounce bags. I'm confident you can do it.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
LCS 2010: New York Day 1
So this week we have a commercial for - let me see if I can get this straight - medication for people who have already had a heart attack. It's supposed to prevent another attack, or reduce circulatory blockage, or something. And it takes half the commercial to list the potential side effects. Last Comic Standing, these are your viewers.
And we start with another musical bit by Craig Robinson. Sigh. If we're going to do music, why not have Loudon Wainwright III as host? Actually, the more I think of it, that's a brilliant idea! Who thought of that?
This week we get some vigorous dancing by Natasha; Greg gets a lot more lines; and Andy is no longer irritating. Folks, I think we have a good panel of judges!
The montages this week are: stereotypical Italian-Americans; and dummies. --No, wiseacres, I am not being redundant.
So who made it to the evening show?
Jamie Lee from Dallas talks about judgmental people: her grandma, and those guys who make rude comments as women walk by (there's got to be a term for them). Good enough for a ticket to the semi-finals, say the judges.
Mike DeStefano paints himself as a tough Italian guy from the streets, and he's pretty funny. The show even does a little clip with DeStefano and three friends sitting at an outdoor café table, à la The Sopranos (which was often the funniest show on television). DeStefano gets his ticket.
Roy Wood, Jr., does a joke in his audition linking current events with his relationship issues: How long will it take to get our troops out of Iraq if it takes him three years to get a crazy girlfriend out of his apartment? Clever. In the evening show he imagines the trouble Facebook and Twitter would have caused in years gone by. I'm not loving his delivery, but the writing is so good that I can't argue with the judges giving him a ticket.
Kurt Metzger auditions with a riff on the sell-your-gold-for-cash commercials. In the evening show he tells a story about Michael Jackson's death being announced at Metzger's own father's funeral. Both bits are very funny. This guy is my favorite so far, and he's going to the semis.
Amanda Melson auditions with a joke about preachers using quotation fingers, or something. I didn't get it; maybe the funny part was edited out. In the evening she talks about a stupid new-agey yoga class - not exactly an original target for humor. Here's what I also don't get: She's identified as being from San Antonio, but in part of her act she does a mock-Puerto Rican accent. Is she pandering to the New York audience, or is San Antonio more cosmopolitan than I realized? At any rate, she gets a ticket.
Jim David auditions with some jokes about the gay "lifestyle" (presumably he's gay). In the evening show he takes on automated airline reservation systems. The bit is sort of funny, but not good enough to get him to the semis.
Tommy Johnagin tells jokes about bad relationships and gets a ticket. OK, I guess.
Alycia Cooper talks about the bad economy, the bad sports teams in DC, and the things she does to avoid airline bag fees. Another ticket to semi-finals, and another comic I don't feel like rooting for or against.
Flavia Masson auditions with a joke about a Brazilian bikini wax producing something that looks like Hitler's mustache. I'm not laughing, but that's enough for the judges to invite her to the evening show, where she talks about how dramatic and stupid her housemaid is. The judges correct their mistake and don't invite her to the semis.
Jesse Joyce jokes about being a Big Brother and about what traumatizing roadkill monkeys make. I'd have passed him up, but he gets the red ticket.
Claudia Cogan auditions with her fantasy of being a nasty stripper with a coke nosebleed, and her evening bit is about inappropriate LOL's in instant messages. Not brilliant, but I like her; she's an ambitious comic. She gets a ticket.
In the audition Jared Logan hates people who bum cigarettes from him, and that disdain gets him to the evening show. There, he talks about how his fellow subway passengers find his "pardon me" off-putting; they seem to think he's kind of a douche. I'm not sure, but they may be right. No ticket for him. He should get together with Flavia. The lower classes can't hurt them as long as they have each other.
So nine people move on. More New York next week!
And we start with another musical bit by Craig Robinson. Sigh. If we're going to do music, why not have Loudon Wainwright III as host? Actually, the more I think of it, that's a brilliant idea! Who thought of that?
This week we get some vigorous dancing by Natasha; Greg gets a lot more lines; and Andy is no longer irritating. Folks, I think we have a good panel of judges!
The montages this week are: stereotypical Italian-Americans; and dummies. --No, wiseacres, I am not being redundant.
So who made it to the evening show?
Jamie Lee from Dallas talks about judgmental people: her grandma, and those guys who make rude comments as women walk by (there's got to be a term for them). Good enough for a ticket to the semi-finals, say the judges.
Mike DeStefano paints himself as a tough Italian guy from the streets, and he's pretty funny. The show even does a little clip with DeStefano and three friends sitting at an outdoor café table, à la The Sopranos (which was often the funniest show on television). DeStefano gets his ticket.
Roy Wood, Jr., does a joke in his audition linking current events with his relationship issues: How long will it take to get our troops out of Iraq if it takes him three years to get a crazy girlfriend out of his apartment? Clever. In the evening show he imagines the trouble Facebook and Twitter would have caused in years gone by. I'm not loving his delivery, but the writing is so good that I can't argue with the judges giving him a ticket.
Kurt Metzger auditions with a riff on the sell-your-gold-for-cash commercials. In the evening show he tells a story about Michael Jackson's death being announced at Metzger's own father's funeral. Both bits are very funny. This guy is my favorite so far, and he's going to the semis.
Amanda Melson auditions with a joke about preachers using quotation fingers, or something. I didn't get it; maybe the funny part was edited out. In the evening she talks about a stupid new-agey yoga class - not exactly an original target for humor. Here's what I also don't get: She's identified as being from San Antonio, but in part of her act she does a mock-Puerto Rican accent. Is she pandering to the New York audience, or is San Antonio more cosmopolitan than I realized? At any rate, she gets a ticket.
Jim David auditions with some jokes about the gay "lifestyle" (presumably he's gay). In the evening show he takes on automated airline reservation systems. The bit is sort of funny, but not good enough to get him to the semis.
Tommy Johnagin tells jokes about bad relationships and gets a ticket. OK, I guess.
Alycia Cooper talks about the bad economy, the bad sports teams in DC, and the things she does to avoid airline bag fees. Another ticket to semi-finals, and another comic I don't feel like rooting for or against.
Flavia Masson auditions with a joke about a Brazilian bikini wax producing something that looks like Hitler's mustache. I'm not laughing, but that's enough for the judges to invite her to the evening show, where she talks about how dramatic and stupid her housemaid is. The judges correct their mistake and don't invite her to the semis.
Jesse Joyce jokes about being a Big Brother and about what traumatizing roadkill monkeys make. I'd have passed him up, but he gets the red ticket.
Claudia Cogan auditions with her fantasy of being a nasty stripper with a coke nosebleed, and her evening bit is about inappropriate LOL's in instant messages. Not brilliant, but I like her; she's an ambitious comic. She gets a ticket.
In the audition Jared Logan hates people who bum cigarettes from him, and that disdain gets him to the evening show. There, he talks about how his fellow subway passengers find his "pardon me" off-putting; they seem to think he's kind of a douche. I'm not sure, but they may be right. No ticket for him. He should get together with Flavia. The lower classes can't hurt them as long as they have each other.
So nine people move on. More New York next week!
Monday, June 14, 2010
LCS 2010: Los Angeles
Wait, am I actually going to blog a TV show? How undignified. Well, at least I'm going to pick a critics' favorite, right? What? A reality show? Well, I suppose there are a few that qualify as worthwhile entertainment on a slow day. Let me just prepare a plate of cheese and fruit and open a bottle of crisp, modestly assertive wine. There. Now, what have we got? Last Comic Standing??? I'm killing me, I really am.
"You awake? Yeah, you're probably always awake, aren't ya. Are you going to explain to me what this is all about? You know you stuck me here with a bunch of crazy misfits...." Hold it. That's the promo for Persons Unknown, which comes after LCS. Quit stalling.
OK, what sort of person watches LCS? Let's look at the commercials. Fast food - a couple of different varieties. A chain restaurant. Food containers. Cockroach poison. A refrigerator. Diabetes medication. Cable TV. Satellite TV. Pills for erectile dysfunction.
This is not a flattering picture. I must be an outlier in the audience. Yes, that's it. On to the show...
The new host is Craig Robinson. I liked Jay Mohr and tolerated Anthony Clark; wasn't crazy about Bill Bellamy. Robinson could surpass the others, if he gets good writing ... which doesn't seem to have happened in this first episode. The opening musical bit is a little weak - way too much money in the tip jar - though it's nice to see Robinson has some keyboard skills.
Three judges this time: Andy Kindler, who occasionally seems to think this is his show; Natasha Leggero, perky and energetic; and Greg Giraldo, who comes up with a few good lines but mainly serves as a tiebreaker. They seem to know a lot of the comics, a few of whom tank the audition; but the judges invite them to the evening show anyway. Fine. Just keep me entertained as a viewer. Strict fairness is overrated.
We get two hours of Los Angeles auditions. Lots of talent. Let's review the ones who made it to the evening show.
Day 1:
Felipe Esparza tells jokes about his ethnicity. Early in the show, there's a montage of audition failures by people who play off their racial makeup. It's an easy shtick to lean on (Dat Phan won Season 1 doing so), but it gets old pretty quick. On top of this, Esparza jokes about being an unwanted child, which is a little edgy. I can't imagine Steve Schirripa, a judge from a previous season, approving of a joke about an unwanted kid. But in the end Esparza gets his ticket to the semi-finals.
Fortune Feimster auditions with a long joke about small-town Southern mannerisms that doesn't amuse me. The judges like it, and in the evening show she gets a ticket.
Rob Delaney I don't get. He tells a boob joke in the evening show and doesn't make the cut.
Lil' Rel is another one I don't get, but his crazy teacher joke gets him a ticket.
Kevin Small from Dallas does a Baptist hick shtick and bombs.
Laurie Kilmartin does an edgy "I'm a bad mother" bit good enough for a ticket.
Jacob Sirof riffs on anti-Semitism (he's Jewish) and moves on to the semis.
Kirk Fox tanks the audition. In the evening he jokes about sharing a bed with his girlfriend. He and I are both surprised when he gets a ticket.
Taylor Williamson has a funny audition talking about life in New York. His family intermarriage jokes in the evening are good enough for him to move on.
David Feldman tells political jokes - pretty good ones. I can't remember any political humor from previous seasons - nothing that succeeded, anyway. But Feldman gets a ticket.
Amy Claire jokes about dating a doctor. Maybe he will console her for not making the cut.
Maronzio Vance jokes about being poor. Funny enough to go to the next level.
Cathy Ladman tells some jokes about Hitler on the History Channel that I thought were very funny, but she did not graduate to the semis.
Guy Torry has a girlfriend who keeps hot sauce in her Louis Vuitton purse. Apparently this is funny enough to move him on.
Shane Mauss does a Seinfeld imitation in the evening show and gets his ticket. Really?
Day 2:
Chip Pope from Pampa, Texas, auditions with a B-52's imitation. In the evening he gets his ticket based on an off-color CSI joke. Um, go Texas?
Paula Bel is another comic with a weak audition who gets invited to the evening show because the judges are familiar with her (better) material. In the evening she goes kind of Paula Poundstone, which is good enough to get an invite to the next level.
Jimmy Dore riffs about gays against gay marriage. Not funny enough.
Christina Paszitsky's humor about folks from the old country doesn't win her a ticket.
Tiffany Haddish is awfully cute, but her falsies gag isn't quite funny enough. Sigh.
James Adomian plays the blue-collar card and wins a ticket.
Rachel Feinstein talks about dating and sex and her mom's crazy haircut. Good enough for the judges!
Chris Fairbanks talks about smoking, caffeine, and other addictions. Apparently we won't be making a habit of him.
Jonathan Thymius tells an old drug joke and an old ex-wife joke. He has great delivery, though, and the judges give him a ticket.
Cristela Alonzo from San Juan, Texas, uses some ethnic humor, but she tells a funny lying-on-my-resume joke and also shows a flair for physical comedy. Good enough to move on.
Jason Nash has a fresh take on kids who are annoying. The judges give him a ticket!
So that's eighteen people moving up to the next level. New York is next, followed by (if I understand right) auditions by special invite for comics in flyover country. Then the semis.
OK, this has been more stenography than blogging. I'll try to improve next week.
"You awake? Yeah, you're probably always awake, aren't ya. Are you going to explain to me what this is all about? You know you stuck me here with a bunch of crazy misfits...." Hold it. That's the promo for Persons Unknown, which comes after LCS. Quit stalling.
OK, what sort of person watches LCS? Let's look at the commercials. Fast food - a couple of different varieties. A chain restaurant. Food containers. Cockroach poison. A refrigerator. Diabetes medication. Cable TV. Satellite TV. Pills for erectile dysfunction.
This is not a flattering picture. I must be an outlier in the audience. Yes, that's it. On to the show...
The new host is Craig Robinson. I liked Jay Mohr and tolerated Anthony Clark; wasn't crazy about Bill Bellamy. Robinson could surpass the others, if he gets good writing ... which doesn't seem to have happened in this first episode. The opening musical bit is a little weak - way too much money in the tip jar - though it's nice to see Robinson has some keyboard skills.
Three judges this time: Andy Kindler, who occasionally seems to think this is his show; Natasha Leggero, perky and energetic; and Greg Giraldo, who comes up with a few good lines but mainly serves as a tiebreaker. They seem to know a lot of the comics, a few of whom tank the audition; but the judges invite them to the evening show anyway. Fine. Just keep me entertained as a viewer. Strict fairness is overrated.
We get two hours of Los Angeles auditions. Lots of talent. Let's review the ones who made it to the evening show.
Day 1:
Felipe Esparza tells jokes about his ethnicity. Early in the show, there's a montage of audition failures by people who play off their racial makeup. It's an easy shtick to lean on (Dat Phan won Season 1 doing so), but it gets old pretty quick. On top of this, Esparza jokes about being an unwanted child, which is a little edgy. I can't imagine Steve Schirripa, a judge from a previous season, approving of a joke about an unwanted kid. But in the end Esparza gets his ticket to the semi-finals.
Fortune Feimster auditions with a long joke about small-town Southern mannerisms that doesn't amuse me. The judges like it, and in the evening show she gets a ticket.
Rob Delaney I don't get. He tells a boob joke in the evening show and doesn't make the cut.
Lil' Rel is another one I don't get, but his crazy teacher joke gets him a ticket.
Kevin Small from Dallas does a Baptist hick shtick and bombs.
Laurie Kilmartin does an edgy "I'm a bad mother" bit good enough for a ticket.
Jacob Sirof riffs on anti-Semitism (he's Jewish) and moves on to the semis.
Kirk Fox tanks the audition. In the evening he jokes about sharing a bed with his girlfriend. He and I are both surprised when he gets a ticket.
Taylor Williamson has a funny audition talking about life in New York. His family intermarriage jokes in the evening are good enough for him to move on.
David Feldman tells political jokes - pretty good ones. I can't remember any political humor from previous seasons - nothing that succeeded, anyway. But Feldman gets a ticket.
Amy Claire jokes about dating a doctor. Maybe he will console her for not making the cut.
Maronzio Vance jokes about being poor. Funny enough to go to the next level.
Cathy Ladman tells some jokes about Hitler on the History Channel that I thought were very funny, but she did not graduate to the semis.
Guy Torry has a girlfriend who keeps hot sauce in her Louis Vuitton purse. Apparently this is funny enough to move him on.
Shane Mauss does a Seinfeld imitation in the evening show and gets his ticket. Really?
Day 2:
Chip Pope from Pampa, Texas, auditions with a B-52's imitation. In the evening he gets his ticket based on an off-color CSI joke. Um, go Texas?
Paula Bel is another comic with a weak audition who gets invited to the evening show because the judges are familiar with her (better) material. In the evening she goes kind of Paula Poundstone, which is good enough to get an invite to the next level.
Jimmy Dore riffs about gays against gay marriage. Not funny enough.
Christina Paszitsky's humor about folks from the old country doesn't win her a ticket.
Tiffany Haddish is awfully cute, but her falsies gag isn't quite funny enough. Sigh.
James Adomian plays the blue-collar card and wins a ticket.
Rachel Feinstein talks about dating and sex and her mom's crazy haircut. Good enough for the judges!
Chris Fairbanks talks about smoking, caffeine, and other addictions. Apparently we won't be making a habit of him.
Jonathan Thymius tells an old drug joke and an old ex-wife joke. He has great delivery, though, and the judges give him a ticket.
Cristela Alonzo from San Juan, Texas, uses some ethnic humor, but she tells a funny lying-on-my-resume joke and also shows a flair for physical comedy. Good enough to move on.
Jason Nash has a fresh take on kids who are annoying. The judges give him a ticket!
So that's eighteen people moving up to the next level. New York is next, followed by (if I understand right) auditions by special invite for comics in flyover country. Then the semis.
OK, this has been more stenography than blogging. I'll try to improve next week.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Kent State redux
The attack on the Mavi Marmara seems like a horrible error on the scale of the Kent State killings. The violence never should have happened. The Israeli government should try to recompense the families of the victims; but this may be utterly unacceptable to an effective majority of the Israeli public. What does one do when Greek tragedy is enacted before one's eyes?
On the minuscule chance that this dreadful incident was actually sought by the Netanyahu government, my emotional response is to repeat the brilliant epigraph used by Paul Bowles for one of his novels:
Banquo: it will be rain tonight
First murderer: let it come down
(stabs Banquo)
Macbeth, Act iii scene 3
On the minuscule chance that this dreadful incident was actually sought by the Netanyahu government, my emotional response is to repeat the brilliant epigraph used by Paul Bowles for one of his novels:
Banquo: it will be rain tonight
First murderer: let it come down
(stabs Banquo)
Macbeth, Act iii scene 3
Monday, May 17, 2010
My Tiny Little Theory About Truffaut
This may be wrong. If it's right, it may be old hat to the film experts. But it was fun to discover on my own.
François Truffaut's third movie as director was Jules and Jim. I remember hearing that he picked the name "Jim" to express his affection for America. But why "Jim" in particular? I've heard the names Mac and Joe used as generic American names, but Jim? Jules and Joe would have been a perfectly good title.
Then, not long ago, I read a novel from the Library of America collection, Crime Novels: American Noir of the 1950s. The story begins with a wounded man on the run. He runs blindly into a telephone pole and falls down.
François Truffaut's third movie as director was Jules and Jim. I remember hearing that he picked the name "Jim" to express his affection for America. But why "Jim" in particular? I've heard the names Mac and Joe used as generic American names, but Jim? Jules and Joe would have been a perfectly good title.
Then, not long ago, I read a novel from the Library of America collection, Crime Novels: American Noir of the 1950s. The story begins with a wounded man on the run. He runs blindly into a telephone pole and falls down.
He got up slowly, dizzily. There was a big lump on the left side of his head, his left eye and cheekbone were somewhat swollen, and the inside of his cheek was bleeding where he'd bitten it when he'd hit the pole. He thought of what his face must look like, and he managed to grin, saying to himself, You're doing fine, jim. You're really in great shape. But I think you'll make it, he decided, and then he was running again, suddenly running very fast as the headlights rounded a corner, the car picking up speed, the engine noise closing in on him.
We soon learn that the man's actual name is Turley. That "jim" functions like "Mac" or "buddy" or "pal" as a generic.
First time I've seen that.
Here's the interesting thing. The novel is Down There, by David Goodis, published in 1956. Truffaut adapted the story for his second film, which was released in 1960: Shoot the Piano Player. Thus the origin of "Jim"?
Sunday, May 9, 2010
"Socialism!"
In the past few years, Republicans have found "socialism" to be the go-to word when they want to put a scare into their fellows. The word is sloppily defined; it tends to mean any government program Republicans don't like. (Recently Jonah Goldberg wrestled with the term; here is Jonathan Chait's assessment of Goldberg's effort.) With respect to this socialism-phobia, I divide the Republicans into three groups:
1. The true believers. These folks are frightened and furious about the turn our government has taken. The health care bill is the biggest abomination, but the automotive and bank bail-outs probably also fall within this category. Medicaid, Medicare, and Social Security also get the "socialist" label, when the true believers are being honest with one another. And anything carrying that label is a horror which must be exorcised from our nation. I suspect the largest group of Republicans fall in this category.
2. The cynics. These Republicans find the word "socialism" is a dandy way to keep the troops fired up and to keep themselves in power.
3. The go-alongs. These are the politicians who are happy to ride on the coattails of the first two groups.
We can safely ignore the third group. The other two groups take four approaches to the programs tainted by "socialism":
1. Kill. This is the only truly satisfying approach for the true believers. These bad programs must be repealed!
2. Poison the well. If the programs can't be repealed, additional provisions can be enacted to make the programs cumbersome or unattractive. Exemptions can be carved out for one's allies.
3. Defang administratively. Put the programs in the charge of people who will ignore the law or come up with regulations to make the programs ineffective.
4. Make lemonade. If a program can't be abolished, it can at least be privatized. One of the galling features of government agencies is that they can't make campaign contributions. However, if you turn a program over to your friends in private industry, two wonderful things happen: Your friends get to peel off a sizable bit of taxpayer money and put it into their own pocket as administrative cost and mandatory profit; and a bit of that profit will make its way back to you as campaign contributions. The idea of soaking the taxpayers to keep themselves in power is sweet nectar to the cynics. The true believers should find the idea unpleasant; they won't want to see themselves as parasites of socialism.
The depth of passion against "socialism" today means that the next time the Republicans are in power, we should expect each of the programs mentioned above to be attacked in one or more of these ways. In other words, you should vote Republican if you are comfortable saying goodbye to universal health care, Medicaid, Medicare, and Social Security; otherwise, you really should consider the Democrats (or some other alternative). This will be bitter for some, but it's where we seem to stand today.
How long will this mania last? We can get an idea from looking at the Democrats. A few decades ago, those on the left went comparably berserk at the mention of the word "nuclear," whether it referred to energy production or weaponry. Today there's still a strong anti-nuclear sentiment on the left, but it's no longer monolithic. True, there are still politicians who use "nuclear" as a scare word. But at least with respect to nuclear energy, a fair number of Democrats are ready to endorse new plant construction. So with respect to the "socialism" phobia, I wouldn't advise electing Republicans again until around 2030 or maybe 2040.
1. The true believers. These folks are frightened and furious about the turn our government has taken. The health care bill is the biggest abomination, but the automotive and bank bail-outs probably also fall within this category. Medicaid, Medicare, and Social Security also get the "socialist" label, when the true believers are being honest with one another. And anything carrying that label is a horror which must be exorcised from our nation. I suspect the largest group of Republicans fall in this category.
2. The cynics. These Republicans find the word "socialism" is a dandy way to keep the troops fired up and to keep themselves in power.
3. The go-alongs. These are the politicians who are happy to ride on the coattails of the first two groups.
We can safely ignore the third group. The other two groups take four approaches to the programs tainted by "socialism":
1. Kill. This is the only truly satisfying approach for the true believers. These bad programs must be repealed!
2. Poison the well. If the programs can't be repealed, additional provisions can be enacted to make the programs cumbersome or unattractive. Exemptions can be carved out for one's allies.
3. Defang administratively. Put the programs in the charge of people who will ignore the law or come up with regulations to make the programs ineffective.
4. Make lemonade. If a program can't be abolished, it can at least be privatized. One of the galling features of government agencies is that they can't make campaign contributions. However, if you turn a program over to your friends in private industry, two wonderful things happen: Your friends get to peel off a sizable bit of taxpayer money and put it into their own pocket as administrative cost and mandatory profit; and a bit of that profit will make its way back to you as campaign contributions. The idea of soaking the taxpayers to keep themselves in power is sweet nectar to the cynics. The true believers should find the idea unpleasant; they won't want to see themselves as parasites of socialism.
The depth of passion against "socialism" today means that the next time the Republicans are in power, we should expect each of the programs mentioned above to be attacked in one or more of these ways. In other words, you should vote Republican if you are comfortable saying goodbye to universal health care, Medicaid, Medicare, and Social Security; otherwise, you really should consider the Democrats (or some other alternative). This will be bitter for some, but it's where we seem to stand today.
How long will this mania last? We can get an idea from looking at the Democrats. A few decades ago, those on the left went comparably berserk at the mention of the word "nuclear," whether it referred to energy production or weaponry. Today there's still a strong anti-nuclear sentiment on the left, but it's no longer monolithic. True, there are still politicians who use "nuclear" as a scare word. But at least with respect to nuclear energy, a fair number of Democrats are ready to endorse new plant construction. So with respect to the "socialism" phobia, I wouldn't advise electing Republicans again until around 2030 or maybe 2040.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Third-Degree Cool
An example:
1. "There's this web site called wikipedia.org where I can find out all kinds of stuff. I'm cool."
2. "Wikipedia has all sorts of inaccuracies. I sneer at the fools who rely on it. I'm cool."
3. "Sure, Wikipedia has its flaws, but as long as I don't slavishly swallow or reflexively discount what I read, I'm cool."
1. "There's this web site called wikipedia.org where I can find out all kinds of stuff. I'm cool."
2. "Wikipedia has all sorts of inaccuracies. I sneer at the fools who rely on it. I'm cool."
3. "Sure, Wikipedia has its flaws, but as long as I don't slavishly swallow or reflexively discount what I read, I'm cool."
Friday, April 23, 2010
Short Answer
For me, writing has always been an object of dread and attraction. In public school, I didn't mind taking tests, as long as the questions were true/false or multiple choice. (The math problems were OK too.) I was a little edgy with fill-in-the-blank and short answer, but essay questions were the real bane for me. I can learn the material, but good lord, don't make me form coherent sentences.
But I've also felt that people who can write are possessors of great virtue. I'd like some of that virtue for myself; I just wish it weren't so difficult. And most writers will say, hey, it's difficult for me too. Yes, I answer, but the reward for your difficulty is something pleasing or even wonderful. I labor to put together a few barely coherent words. Or so it feels.
So for most of my life I avoided writing. Instead, I took up reading with enthusiasm. My favorites are the great American writers: Mark Twain, Henry James, Willa Cather, and a number of others. I've hoped that a tiny bit of their excellence might rub off on my own writing; it's sort of a Charlie-the-tuna approach.
A few years ago I decided it was time to start giving back, if I can. I'm taking a gradual approach. First I started posting comments to other people's blog entries. Instead of commenting under a pseudonym, I've used my full name. This has required me to own my words, so to speak. It hasn't kept me from making a fool of myself now and then, but it's pushed me to work out who I am as a writer.
This blog is the next step. (I also have a second blog, devoted to movies not screened in Houston, on the Houston Chronicle website.) So far I haven't exactly been a posting machine. That's all right. Maybe I'll start posting more frequently. Maybe I'll start writing a screenplay or novel instead. Most likely I'll continue to sputter along for a while.
Having pried this handful of words out of myself, I stopped to wonder how Edward Hoagland might have written on a similar subject. Sigh. I really shouldn't measure myself against such a master; I'll just be discouraged. Friends, if you've never read one of Hoagland's essays, do a little searching on the Web. Read whatever you find. You will be rewarded.
But I've also felt that people who can write are possessors of great virtue. I'd like some of that virtue for myself; I just wish it weren't so difficult. And most writers will say, hey, it's difficult for me too. Yes, I answer, but the reward for your difficulty is something pleasing or even wonderful. I labor to put together a few barely coherent words. Or so it feels.
So for most of my life I avoided writing. Instead, I took up reading with enthusiasm. My favorites are the great American writers: Mark Twain, Henry James, Willa Cather, and a number of others. I've hoped that a tiny bit of their excellence might rub off on my own writing; it's sort of a Charlie-the-tuna approach.
A few years ago I decided it was time to start giving back, if I can. I'm taking a gradual approach. First I started posting comments to other people's blog entries. Instead of commenting under a pseudonym, I've used my full name. This has required me to own my words, so to speak. It hasn't kept me from making a fool of myself now and then, but it's pushed me to work out who I am as a writer.
This blog is the next step. (I also have a second blog, devoted to movies not screened in Houston, on the Houston Chronicle website.) So far I haven't exactly been a posting machine. That's all right. Maybe I'll start posting more frequently. Maybe I'll start writing a screenplay or novel instead. Most likely I'll continue to sputter along for a while.
Having pried this handful of words out of myself, I stopped to wonder how Edward Hoagland might have written on a similar subject. Sigh. I really shouldn't measure myself against such a master; I'll just be discouraged. Friends, if you've never read one of Hoagland's essays, do a little searching on the Web. Read whatever you find. You will be rewarded.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Renaming TV Episodes - Answers
Here are the answers to my little quiz on renaming the episodes of 24:
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Renaming TV Episodes
It occured to me the other day that the episode names of the TV show 24 are awfully dull. What if we were to rename the episodes, using the naming conventions of other shows as a guide? So here's a little quiz:
The first list gives the titles of the first 13 episodes in this year's season of 24. The second list is an alphabetic list of new, improved episode titles. The third list, again alphabetic, gives the names of the TV shows whose naming conventions were used. (To keep things from being super-easy, I've only given the first letter or two of the TV show names.) Match 'em all up, and complete the show names in list three.
1. 4:00pm-5:00pm
2. 5:00pm-6:00pm
3. 6:00pm-7:00pm
4. 7:00pm-8:00pm
5. 8:00pm-9:00pm
6. 9:00pm-10:00pm
7. 10:00pm-11:00pm
8. 11:00pm-12:00am
9. 12:00am-1:00am
10. 1:00am-2:00am
11. 2:00am-3:00am
12. 3:00am-4:00am
13. 4:00am-5:00am
A. Aided a Burglary
B. Bazhaev's
C. Everybody Hates Journalists
D. The Gang Gets in a Shootout
E. Jack's Crazy Girlfriend
F. Liaison Exposed
G. A Little Night Murder
H. Mr. Bauer and the Hurt Locker
I. My Media Leak
J. The One Where Renee Takes a Shower
K. Victor Aruz
L. What About Kevin ...
M. Why Not to Date Your Security Chief
i. C--
ii. Em--
iii. Ev--
iv. F--
v. G--
vi. I--
vii. K--
viii. The L--
ix. Mo--
x. My--
xi. N--
xii. S--
xiii. W--
Answers are here.
The first list gives the titles of the first 13 episodes in this year's season of 24. The second list is an alphabetic list of new, improved episode titles. The third list, again alphabetic, gives the names of the TV shows whose naming conventions were used. (To keep things from being super-easy, I've only given the first letter or two of the TV show names.) Match 'em all up, and complete the show names in list three.
1. 4:00pm-5:00pm
2. 5:00pm-6:00pm
3. 6:00pm-7:00pm
4. 7:00pm-8:00pm
5. 8:00pm-9:00pm
6. 9:00pm-10:00pm
7. 10:00pm-11:00pm
8. 11:00pm-12:00am
9. 12:00am-1:00am
10. 1:00am-2:00am
11. 2:00am-3:00am
12. 3:00am-4:00am
13. 4:00am-5:00am
A. Aided a Burglary
B. Bazhaev's
C. Everybody Hates Journalists
D. The Gang Gets in a Shootout
E. Jack's Crazy Girlfriend
F. Liaison Exposed
G. A Little Night Murder
H. Mr. Bauer and the Hurt Locker
I. My Media Leak
J. The One Where Renee Takes a Shower
K. Victor Aruz
L. What About Kevin ...
M. Why Not to Date Your Security Chief
i. C--
ii. Em--
iii. Ev--
iv. F--
v. G--
vi. I--
vii. K--
viii. The L--
ix. Mo--
x. My--
xi. N--
xii. S--
xiii. W--
Answers are here.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Weekend movies
So this weekend I watched three movies – two on DVD and one streaming.
The Earrings of Madame de … was a great pleasure. A film student or even just a bright viewer could write an essay on any of a number of topics.
For instance, there's the role of fate. To pay off debts from her extravagant spending, Madame de … sells the earrings her husband gave her as a wedding present. Through an unlikely chain of events, these earrings make their way back into her possession. Another set of coincidences brings her to a new lover, with dreadful results. (She even remarks at one point that fate will keep them in touch with one another.) These are the sort of events that melodramas rely upon, but in this story they pile up and make the tragedy feel inevitable.
There's also the significance of class. The main characters of Earrings are from the upper classes, but Max Ophuls allows a few moments to peripheral characters – the ushers at the opera, or the soldiers at their post. If nothing else, these “relatable” characters put the drama in the context of the wider world.
One could also look at the humor in this film. Two examples I've just mentioned: the usher who tires of opening the door to a private box, and the soldier who complains of beans constantly on the menu. One of my favorite jokes is about the name of Madame de …. (Frequently in this sort of fiction the last name is not given.) At one point a character starts to speak her name, only to be interrupted by a cut in the film. On a place card at a banquet, her last name is obscured by a napkin; and a commemorative plaque at the end of the film is framed so that her last name is off-camera.
Then there's the camera work itself. Good lord, Ophuls loves his tracking shots; the dolly work is astonishing. (I hope the dolly grips received some sort of French national award for the wonderful jobs they did.) One could assemble a seminar on the use of camera – perhaps an entire course – from this film, along with Love Me Tonight and Grand Illusion. (Admittedly, there are a gazillion other examples, but these are especially good ones, I think.)
The title of the movie could even be used as a launching point for an essay on titles in translation. The French title was simply Madame de …, but I think “Earrings” was an apt addition to the English title; the earrings constituted a near-fetish object in this story. I try to be practical in my attitude toward English-language titles. If The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser draws viewers in to a film, wonderful! After they've seen the film, let them chew on the more literal translation (from the German): Every Man for Himself and God Against All. Meanwhile, I am grateful I don't have to associate with pedants who insist on Bicycle Thieves as the only correct English translation of the title of a certain Italian film.
And I haven't even mentioned the acting! Charles Boyer, Danielle Darrieux, and Vittorio De Sica (who later directed The Bicycle Thief, among other features) are all stellar.
Yes, essays could be written on all these things. But no one is paying me (or assigning me) to do this, and I am much too lazy to do so on my own.
A final note on the Criterion DVD: There are informative interviews included, but I especially recommend the commentary by two bright, insightful scholars, Susan White and Gaylyn Studlar.
* * *
Gran Torino was disappointing, but perhaps not surprising. It reminded me of Million Dollar Baby (another disappointment).
For many films, I can endure a bad or puzzling ending, if the main part of the film stands on its own. I don't quite understand the ending of No Country for Old Men, but that doesn't take (much) away from what preceded it; and while I was perfectly happy with the ending of There Will Be Blood, there were a few who say it ruined the film for them. To me these endings don't matter; the films had already established their greatness.
But in the two Clint Eastwood films mentioned, the endings seemed to be the main purpose of the narrative. They say, “Here is the lesson, folks,” followed by some bit of phogna bologna I can't take. In Baby, the main character can't tolerate her disability, and the Eastwood character is honor-bound to fulfill her wishes. In Gran Torino, Eastwood must make a grand redemptive sacrifice. I understand that the pre-conditions have been set forth: He has committed wartime sins that he cannot confess to an inept priest; the state of his health (kept to himself, of course) minimizes and even rationalizes his sacrifice. But I don't buy the I-am-Jesus self-aggrandization. (I say this as someone who has avoided, on the advice of counsel, such self-regarding, self-sacrificial works as The Life of David Gale and Seven Pounds.)
There are things to enjoy in Gran Torino. I got a kick out of Eastwood saying (essentially), “Hey, I can do impressions! Here's my Dirty Harry.” The sight of Eastwood riffing on his old personae (including his nameless Western antihero) was a lot of fun. And I enjoyed the performances by Eastwood and his “Hmong” co-stars (Bee Vang and Ahney Her). But in the end I didn't buy the Grand Lesson To Be Learned.
* * *
Finally this weekend, I streamed Flame & Citron from Netflix. I started off thinking this is a bit slow, but in the end I lovedlovedloved the movie. I posted some brief notes in my blog Second-Chance Cinema, and I haven't much to add here. The ten million dollars spent on the film is a large amount for Danish cinema, though it pales compared to some Hollywood extravaganzas. I am proud of the filmmakers for depicting some moral ambiguity in the Danish Resistance (which depiction has apparently cost them some domestic support) in a thoroughly absorbing and entertaining film.
The Earrings of Madame de … was a great pleasure. A film student or even just a bright viewer could write an essay on any of a number of topics.
For instance, there's the role of fate. To pay off debts from her extravagant spending, Madame de … sells the earrings her husband gave her as a wedding present. Through an unlikely chain of events, these earrings make their way back into her possession. Another set of coincidences brings her to a new lover, with dreadful results. (She even remarks at one point that fate will keep them in touch with one another.) These are the sort of events that melodramas rely upon, but in this story they pile up and make the tragedy feel inevitable.
There's also the significance of class. The main characters of Earrings are from the upper classes, but Max Ophuls allows a few moments to peripheral characters – the ushers at the opera, or the soldiers at their post. If nothing else, these “relatable” characters put the drama in the context of the wider world.
One could also look at the humor in this film. Two examples I've just mentioned: the usher who tires of opening the door to a private box, and the soldier who complains of beans constantly on the menu. One of my favorite jokes is about the name of Madame de …. (Frequently in this sort of fiction the last name is not given.) At one point a character starts to speak her name, only to be interrupted by a cut in the film. On a place card at a banquet, her last name is obscured by a napkin; and a commemorative plaque at the end of the film is framed so that her last name is off-camera.
Then there's the camera work itself. Good lord, Ophuls loves his tracking shots; the dolly work is astonishing. (I hope the dolly grips received some sort of French national award for the wonderful jobs they did.) One could assemble a seminar on the use of camera – perhaps an entire course – from this film, along with Love Me Tonight and Grand Illusion. (Admittedly, there are a gazillion other examples, but these are especially good ones, I think.)
The title of the movie could even be used as a launching point for an essay on titles in translation. The French title was simply Madame de …, but I think “Earrings” was an apt addition to the English title; the earrings constituted a near-fetish object in this story. I try to be practical in my attitude toward English-language titles. If The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser draws viewers in to a film, wonderful! After they've seen the film, let them chew on the more literal translation (from the German): Every Man for Himself and God Against All. Meanwhile, I am grateful I don't have to associate with pedants who insist on Bicycle Thieves as the only correct English translation of the title of a certain Italian film.
And I haven't even mentioned the acting! Charles Boyer, Danielle Darrieux, and Vittorio De Sica (who later directed The Bicycle Thief, among other features) are all stellar.
Yes, essays could be written on all these things. But no one is paying me (or assigning me) to do this, and I am much too lazy to do so on my own.
A final note on the Criterion DVD: There are informative interviews included, but I especially recommend the commentary by two bright, insightful scholars, Susan White and Gaylyn Studlar.
* * *
Gran Torino was disappointing, but perhaps not surprising. It reminded me of Million Dollar Baby (another disappointment).
For many films, I can endure a bad or puzzling ending, if the main part of the film stands on its own. I don't quite understand the ending of No Country for Old Men, but that doesn't take (much) away from what preceded it; and while I was perfectly happy with the ending of There Will Be Blood, there were a few who say it ruined the film for them. To me these endings don't matter; the films had already established their greatness.
But in the two Clint Eastwood films mentioned, the endings seemed to be the main purpose of the narrative. They say, “Here is the lesson, folks,” followed by some bit of phogna bologna I can't take. In Baby, the main character can't tolerate her disability, and the Eastwood character is honor-bound to fulfill her wishes. In Gran Torino, Eastwood must make a grand redemptive sacrifice. I understand that the pre-conditions have been set forth: He has committed wartime sins that he cannot confess to an inept priest; the state of his health (kept to himself, of course) minimizes and even rationalizes his sacrifice. But I don't buy the I-am-Jesus self-aggrandization. (I say this as someone who has avoided, on the advice of counsel, such self-regarding, self-sacrificial works as The Life of David Gale and Seven Pounds.)
There are things to enjoy in Gran Torino. I got a kick out of Eastwood saying (essentially), “Hey, I can do impressions! Here's my Dirty Harry.” The sight of Eastwood riffing on his old personae (including his nameless Western antihero) was a lot of fun. And I enjoyed the performances by Eastwood and his “Hmong” co-stars (Bee Vang and Ahney Her). But in the end I didn't buy the Grand Lesson To Be Learned.
* * *
Finally this weekend, I streamed Flame & Citron from Netflix. I started off thinking this is a bit slow, but in the end I lovedlovedloved the movie. I posted some brief notes in my blog Second-Chance Cinema, and I haven't much to add here. The ten million dollars spent on the film is a large amount for Danish cinema, though it pales compared to some Hollywood extravaganzas. I am proud of the filmmakers for depicting some moral ambiguity in the Danish Resistance (which depiction has apparently cost them some domestic support) in a thoroughly absorbing and entertaining film.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Coincidences 3, 4, & 5
Coincidence #3: Two references to the Wee Kirk O' the Heather within a few days.
A few days ago I watched Paper Heart, a nice little road flick about Charlyne Yi interviewing people about love while herself becoming loosely entangled with Michael Cera. One of the stops on her travels is the aforementioned chapel in Las Vegas. Yi (as played in the film) is sweet, low-key, and often childlike as she tries to get an explanation of what love really is; she's wary and tentative but not at all bitter. So is Cera (again, according to the film). They kid around in a let's-keep-the-stakes-low-OK? manner, never venturing too far from an exit.
Wee Kirk O' the Heather also appears on page 246 of Thomas Pynchon's Inherent Vice, which I am two-thirds of the way through at the moment. Around 1969 or '70, Larry "Doc" Sportello, a hippie P.I. in Los Angeles, is hired to locate a missing real estate developer. His frenemy is philosophical police officer Christian "Bigfoot" Bjornsen. The story rambles like The Big Lebowski, and Doc's cool reminds me of The Dude. I picture Inherent Vice as a movie (or better yet, a cable mini-series), produced/directed by David Lynch, with James Franco as Doc and John Krasinski as Bigfoot.
Coincidence #4 (weak): Inherent Vice also mentions Val Lewton, a movie producer praised in another book I've been reading, Farber on Film: The Complete Film Writings of Manny Farber. Check out Lewton's Curse of the Cat People.
Coincidence #5 (weakest): The real estate developer sought by Doc Sportello is named Mickey Wolfmann. This weekend The Wolfman opens in theaters. Based on reviews, I probably won't be checking the movie out.
A few days ago I watched Paper Heart, a nice little road flick about Charlyne Yi interviewing people about love while herself becoming loosely entangled with Michael Cera. One of the stops on her travels is the aforementioned chapel in Las Vegas. Yi (as played in the film) is sweet, low-key, and often childlike as she tries to get an explanation of what love really is; she's wary and tentative but not at all bitter. So is Cera (again, according to the film). They kid around in a let's-keep-the-stakes-low-OK? manner, never venturing too far from an exit.
Wee Kirk O' the Heather also appears on page 246 of Thomas Pynchon's Inherent Vice, which I am two-thirds of the way through at the moment. Around 1969 or '70, Larry "Doc" Sportello, a hippie P.I. in Los Angeles, is hired to locate a missing real estate developer. His frenemy is philosophical police officer Christian "Bigfoot" Bjornsen. The story rambles like The Big Lebowski, and Doc's cool reminds me of The Dude. I picture Inherent Vice as a movie (or better yet, a cable mini-series), produced/directed by David Lynch, with James Franco as Doc and John Krasinski as Bigfoot.
Coincidence #4 (weak): Inherent Vice also mentions Val Lewton, a movie producer praised in another book I've been reading, Farber on Film: The Complete Film Writings of Manny Farber. Check out Lewton's Curse of the Cat People.
Coincidence #5 (weakest): The real estate developer sought by Doc Sportello is named Mickey Wolfmann. This weekend The Wolfman opens in theaters. Based on reviews, I probably won't be checking the movie out.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
You had me at kaboom
Critics have been slobbering over The Hurt Locker for some time; I finally checked it out on DVD last weekend. The episodic structure reminded me of The Big Red One, and both movies end by gesturing poignantly back to the beginning.
Bigelow and Boal state their thesis - that "war is a drug" - and use a cool documentary style to back it up. The characters are well drawn and consistent, with one exception I'll get to in a moment. The Iraqis are not one-dimensional victims and villains, though they are portrayed as strange and often dangerous, from the Americans' point of view. Action sequences are clearly and believably staged. Occasional use of slo-mo subverts the documentary feel, but overall the tone doesn't suffer much.
I have a problem with the scene in which one soldier discusses the possibility of killing another soldier. (The death could be made to look like an accident.) This seemed crazily out of character for the would-be assassin. Boal was a reporter embedded with a bomb-disposal unit in Iraq. My hunch is that one of the soldiers he was covering initiated a similar discussion, and Boal couldn't resist putting it into the movie.
The Hurt Locker isn't quite up to the level of Generation Kill, but that mini-series had seven hours to tell its story. Overall, I'd rate The Hurt Locker a very good movie.
Bigelow and Boal state their thesis - that "war is a drug" - and use a cool documentary style to back it up. The characters are well drawn and consistent, with one exception I'll get to in a moment. The Iraqis are not one-dimensional victims and villains, though they are portrayed as strange and often dangerous, from the Americans' point of view. Action sequences are clearly and believably staged. Occasional use of slo-mo subverts the documentary feel, but overall the tone doesn't suffer much.
I have a problem with the scene in which one soldier discusses the possibility of killing another soldier. (The death could be made to look like an accident.) This seemed crazily out of character for the would-be assassin. Boal was a reporter embedded with a bomb-disposal unit in Iraq. My hunch is that one of the soldiers he was covering initiated a similar discussion, and Boal couldn't resist putting it into the movie.
The Hurt Locker isn't quite up to the level of Generation Kill, but that mini-series had seven hours to tell its story. Overall, I'd rate The Hurt Locker a very good movie.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Coincidence #2
The day after posting my entry on coincidence, by pure chance I listened to the Radiolab podcast on stochasticity, which explains things much better than I could.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Coincidence
Last week I streamed Of Time and the City on my Netflix account. (I posted a few notes on the movie here.) The film opened with a narrator reading Shelley's "Ozymandias," which gave me a start. Just a day or two earlier, I had read a passage in Philip Roth's When She Was Good in which one of the characters was analyzing "Ozymandias" as a school assignment. The poem is well-known among the better-educated; I had barely heard of it. At any rate, I felt an odd thrill in hearing the name of a poem, obscure to me, from two different sources within a few days' span.
Last summer, quite by accident, I watched two films in a row which featured Nick Nolte and a water buffalo. (The films were Tropic Thunder and The Beautiful Country.) The coincidence was meaningless but somehow pleasing, nevertheless.
There are some people - an alarming number, really - who would insist that these events were not chance at all. They would say that the universe is speaking to me, or that God is carrying out some clever scheme. Many find comfort in this idea; if everything is like a puppet on a string, one can stop worrying and leave the future to be worked out by whatever's in control. I like the not worrying part, but if we find agency in the reappearence of "Ozymandias," we pretty much have to attribute agency to things less whimsical - things horrible, in fact. Laying the Haitian earthquake at God's feet feels like blasphemy; I'd rather tote it up to chance. Someone might say, "Aha, but Who do you think created Chance?" I'm happy to reply that I'm not smart enough to work that one out.
Last summer, quite by accident, I watched two films in a row which featured Nick Nolte and a water buffalo. (The films were Tropic Thunder and The Beautiful Country.) The coincidence was meaningless but somehow pleasing, nevertheless.
There are some people - an alarming number, really - who would insist that these events were not chance at all. They would say that the universe is speaking to me, or that God is carrying out some clever scheme. Many find comfort in this idea; if everything is like a puppet on a string, one can stop worrying and leave the future to be worked out by whatever's in control. I like the not worrying part, but if we find agency in the reappearence of "Ozymandias," we pretty much have to attribute agency to things less whimsical - things horrible, in fact. Laying the Haitian earthquake at God's feet feels like blasphemy; I'd rather tote it up to chance. Someone might say, "Aha, but Who do you think created Chance?" I'm happy to reply that I'm not smart enough to work that one out.
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