I miss the drive-in 2

So I've been thinking. You know, I was a bit scared to ask that guy to stop texting, and I was definitely scared when I was stuck with him for the rest of the movie. I felt guilty, not just because I hadn't meant for it to become a production. I felt guilty because I didn't ask him in the first place, even though I knew my past history in movie theaters made it a dangerous proposition. I feared losing control of both myself and the situation. And to a degree I DID lose control of the situation. I was stuck! I couldn't leave the theater, or at least I didn't feel as if I could leave the theater upon a perceived threat of violence. You'd think my training would instill confidence. It didn't, perhaps if the situation had turned violent I would have remained calm, but that is speculation. What my training did was make me aware of the potential for violence and the consequences of violence. So it's not as if my training failed, I kept myself out of a compromising position and yet I still felt COMPROMISED. I'm not sure what all this means. Sifu would say my avoidance of conflict was a victory in itself: I didn't get hit; I didn't get hurt; therefore, I didn't lose a fight. And I agree. It's just...I don't know. This incident pushed my buttons. Is it a gender thing? As a male there is pressure for me to solve conflicts aggressively? Maybe the trauma has created an extra incentive to solve my conflicts with the grace and skill of a caveman, but my movie theater blow ups happened before I was tortured and I've ALWAYS been a bit shy. Ugh!

I miss the drive-in

Had a sour movie going experience Friday. I went to see The Hangover with a friend....No, that's not why it sucked. THe movie itself was alright. I was caugt off guard by the Danzig song in the opening credits but that is neither here nor there.

The black guy to my left started texting during the trailers, that was annoying but I let it slide. Then the fucker kept doing it for a good 20 min straight into the movie. I'm not good with confrontation; I consider myself to be shy, but when it comes to movie theaters---how do I put this?--there were two occasions were I lost it. I mean I just flipped out and did some serious screaming. That's not how I want to conduct myself, I don't even want to risk it, so I left the theater and complained to a manager, who was SUPPOSED to wait and not follow me in immediately. He waited all of 5 seconds. Sigh. The texting stopped. Then the guy next to me said "You could have just asked me blah blah blah" to which I replied "I find there is no polite way to do it," which in my case has served as a true statement.

Then the usher asked the dude to leave. I hadn't anticipated that. He was gone for about 5 min, then he returned. During the interval, I was unsure if HIS friend had made a threat to me or was just talking at the screen.

I felt bad about the guy leaving. I wasn't trying to get him kicked out, but when he returned? Dude! Why even bother?? That just makes it really uncomfortable and awkward, and I was getting a little scared and started wargaming my best defense to a two on one assault. Grapple? Or go for the eyes. Best to keep it standing, avoid th throat if possible, cross fingers hope they didn't have weapons. Their being 2 black males in a dark room reminded me of the rape. I wasn't going PTSD, but this must have been one of the hundreds of hell dimensions from the Buffyverse.

If I had been sitting on the end I would have left. I was miserable, but actually leaving meant crossing between two men I didn't know or trust so I stayed put and hoped that when the lights went up they would just leave. Luckily, they did. My friend downplayed the incident, but said something to the manager about his lack of timing. I just wanted to go home and hug Radar and bask in his grunts and shovel-heads.

God damn, I miss that drive-in.

p.s--Could have asked him?? There was a sign outside saying texting was a no-no.

While I'm thinking about it

Can't believe I'm saying this, but AvP:Requiem is entertaining in a shameless exploitation film way, and that's a good thing. It was almost, but not quite, Planet Terror-esque. It didn't pause to delight in ironic mischief the way PT did (not using ironic in a pejorative fashion here). We need more genre films willing to kill children and pregnant women.

Certainly better than the frustrating borefest of the first AvP. Sigh, it needed to be a Space Opera, an all or nothing war. Instead we got a watered down Chariot of the Gods Scenario (which sounds much cooler than it is.)

That Sinking Feeling

I feigned protest. Was supposed to wait and see Watchmen with Girlfriend, instead of in town with various nerdic brethren, but I was quite happy to see it with her, would be worth the wait.
My conscription has been waived. It scares me.

This isn't the Girlfriend thing to do; it isn't even the generic girlfriend thing to do. Something is rotten in Denmark.

On the phone she seems distant. Is this it? Is she giving up?
This is how the world ends....?

The Devil and ....

Watched the doc. The Devil and Daniel Johnston. Despite above average direction, I was bored then moved to annoyance by the subject. Was it the music, which struck me as over-rated (though the song for the closing credits was good) or the way every one seem to fawn over his genius AND his madness, save for his parents and one other friend. I was unimpressed by this confirmation of mythic stature. Then again, I find right wing fundamentalistchristian crazy to be a particularly noxious and annoying form of crazy (Granted, you can't choose your psychosis--I think).

Was this me dismissing someone's suffering based on weakness and fear (The SVU effect)? I don't think so. There was a layer the doc failed to pierce; it only touched on the depths of his madness. Then again, explaining madness is like trying to measure the emotional impact of the Holocaust: elusive and dense.

Pan's Hellboy

I saw Hellboy 2 this weekend with Girlfriend. I enjoyed it. It doesn't play like a superhero movie, rather it plays like a fantasy film that just happens to have superheroes in it. One of Del Toro's--who directed Pan's Labyrinth strengths as a director is his ability to create immersive worlds, rather than a pastiche of CGI effects trying passing itself off as an environment. This is one of those movies I would recommend to people who aren't fans of the superhero genre.
Del Toro is a gifted filmmaker who has the ability channel the old school: the golden age of monster movies, the black and white classics. Karloff, Lugosi, Chenney( Sr and Jr.) would all thrive in Del Toro's world; in fact, just writing that makes me a little sad that they aren't around to do just that.

Vacation

Beach was fun. Got to spend time with girlfriend. We made ice cream (Golden Oreo). We played Super Mario Galaxy, and yes, we even went to the beach, and we even went to the movies. (Wall-E is another Pixar homerun, filled with Kubrick homages, top notch animation, and that darn fine Pixar Wit. Despite this, Pixar makes what, for a "family film" is a deeply cynical vision of our future, but one with the ring of truth.) We got to be a normal couple for a while.

And Radar was a dog, spending his time in a way befitting a Scottish Terrier: barking at golfers. It was wrong and we wagged our fingers at him, but the filled me with impish pride.

In fact, by vitrue of shared heritage, Scottish Terriers should be the only living thing allowed to totally fuck up a game o' golf. If you screw up a shot or putt or whatever tough shit, you just got a scottish beatdown Radar style.

Think of the drama! You would never know when it would happen, only that it could.

"It's the eighteenth hole, Woods needs an eagle to win. He's about to--Oh! that scottie came out of nowhere!"
"Bob, the lil s.o.b was hiding IN the bag, he emerged from between the 8 and 9 Iron like some sort of demon"
"Ah, the ole Brown Sauce Voodoo , pioneered by that great warrior, Angus IV"
"It may be Brown Sauce Voodoo, but poor Tiger looks like he just received a big wet *Glascow Kiss!"
They laugh that snarky white laugh of the country club caucasian. I smile. You smile, and we all just grew a little bit as people. We've got the power to ward off Monday. Sports are back people, sports are back.

*headbutt, Radar has given me a few of those!

Curse of the Blair Witch

Not in the best of moods right now, but wanted to jaw 'bout the Blair Witch some more. Got to watch it last night. Found myself paying a lot of attention to the shot selection and cinematography. Buried in the mockumentary format are quite a number of classic narrative shot conventions. At one point point Mike is framed in the lower left third of the screen, while of the screen is trees and air, while the look of the black/white footage struck me as poetic, possibly lyrical.

What does black/white mean in this context? What does TOGGLING between color and b/w mean in this context? The easy answer is perspective or possibly aesthetic distance (black and white promotes a larger distance, color brings you closer to the subject). I think this is part of it. It plays with the rational/irrational tension often found in horror films. Heck the viewer even see the same footage rendered in both formats. This is a blurring of boundaries, an interrogation. [Taking a moment to scoff at anyone who thought they could film this themselves]. This blurring/toggling also reminds the viewer of a technological presence in the film (the cameras). Although both devices bravely record the tragic downfall of Heather and her buddies, as tools against the Blair Witch (the irrational) and their fates, the cameras are impotent. This is a far cry from Stoker's Dracula, in which technology served to record trangressions and allowed the heroes to save the day.

Not bad for a micro budget film that has earned the ire of thousands ;)
Oh! One last thing of note. This film falls into the 10% of movies that do NOT have any love story whatsoever. One could argue there is a triangle, but it's not a love triangle; it's a fear triangle or a paranoia triangle.

The Blair Witch Project

I love this movie, really love this movie, but man does it have vicious detractors. "It was stupid! It was boring! I could make this movie! I got motion sick! It wasn't scary!" and so on and so forth. I was mildly surprised to see the AVclub review it in their New Cult Cannon series, and I was really surprised--and a little ecstatic to see it defended AND see a large chunk of the commenters embrace it for the classic it is. Heck, the response got me so revved up I went out and rented it tonight. They spoke as if deeply effected by the film, genuinely frightened. (I was too, had the lights on when I went to bed).

I never understood the "it wasn't scary" reaction. If the Blair Witch doesn't scare these people, what does???

Lake of Fire

I just watched the an excellent documentary, Lake of Fire, which is about the abortion debate. Not one side or the other, the debate writ large. Shot in black and white over a period that appears to be ten years, it runs the gammut of big whig thinkers like Noam Chomsky to certified nut-job anti-abortion assassins. There is graphic footage, the kind I simply haven't seen before any work on abortion. Yes, you see fetal remains. Yes, you see footage of the procedure. Hell, you might even learn something you didn't know before, and yeah, you'll have a few beliefs reaffirmed too.

I'm a pro-choice guy. In the end, a woman deserves autonomy over her body, and as far I'm concerned most anti-abortion arguments are scare tactics, separated only by degrees. The only thing that separates the assassin from the activist from the sacred sunday moms is the zeal.

However, I think that in order to properly educated people on what abortion is; it can't be sugar coated no more than it can be demonized. It can be a traumatic experience. It can be difficult to cope with physically, even if that is for a short time. And whether I like it or not, some people, including Ms. Roe herself, find their opinions change when presented with the matter in stark physical terms. (In Roe's case though I think her conversion has more to do with other issues that are peripherally discussed). Understanding abortion, which includes witnessing the consequences as well as the reasons for and against (both strictly physical and philosophical), should be part of a comprehensive sex-ed course, which we won't be seeing any time soon.

Oscars

Been watching the Oscars halfheartedly. The most interesting moments are the mistakes--Did you notice the magic censor fairy totally dropped the ball when Steve Correll presented? Do you think the right wing poo poos will shit a brick tomorrow morning even though a meteor clearly hasn't wiped out the midwest?

Long Time No See

I'm happy to report to my army of none, that I'm not dead, allow me to bring you up to speed.

1. I'm studying for the GRE
2. I'm applying to grad programs in Creative Writing
3. My dog has had several haircuts
4. I'm afraid I'm going to lose my girlfriend.
5. I'm trying to drastically overhaul the way I do conditioning work
6. Food Poisoning whupped my ass
7. The Writer's Strike is over (hooray!)

The following have not changed:
1. I'm STILL a white belt in all disciplines
2. I still attend martial arts classes with near obsessive devotion
3. I'm still haunted by the trauma
4. George W. Bush is still a petulant mongoloid fuck
5. No one reads this blog but me


Will try to get back in the once a day habit, and maybe even expand on some of the changes in the former list...but don't count on it.

A Clear ending for The Mist vs the ambiguous hipsters

Endorsing a horror film and an endorsing one enthusiastically is no small feat. For professional critics who live off their credibility, rather than shill for blurbs, there is real risk in going out on a limb for a movie. Historically, horror films have not favored well in the eyes of the film reviewers. This has changed—somewhat in the last ten years or so—but the torture films have worked overtime to garrote the in roads horror has made.

Which is what, I think partially explains the tentatively positive review offered up by the AVclub.com.

Hipsters.

Sigh.

What can I say that hasn’t been said by wikipedia and angry metalheads?

For the most part, I don’t have problems with hipsters. I’m politically sympathetic to most of their positions (I’m a lefty), and honestly when it comes to film reviews the AVclub is a darn good resource. Their critics know their stuff, and even though Nathan Rabin gets carried away once in a while, they are good writers.

But their commenters! Jesus H Christ in a motorized wheelchair, they can get pretty fuckin’ annoying! I have a middling tolerance for “snark” as they like to call it, and a low, very low tolerance for ironic detachment, which is a vice hipsters really tend to overindulge.

This brings me to the Mist. As I’m scanning the comments I saw the occasional “I liked the movie because...” mingled in with the usual “Darabont is a hack” and the normal cat fighting one finds on any comments section, peppered of course with that oh so precious snark hipsters snort like kitty litter.

I’m not nieve enough to think a movie I consider great will meet with universal acclaim; however, there was a pattern in the comments, something that was touched among my theater compatriots after the film: the ending.

One popular criticism of the movie, as professed by a chunk of the AV peanut gallery, is that the ending was—well, the movie had an honest-to-god-put-a-stamp-on-it-dinner-time-ending. There was a cry for—how do I put this?—uncertainty. The film should have ended with them driving into the mist with us never knowing quite what happened to them. That, in their opinion, would have been better than the over the top megatragedy that plays out.

I must politely call bullshit on this argument.

The driving off into the mist/into the sunset/into the dark/here’s three minutes worth of meandering road footage/we’ll never know what really happened because the future is uncertain/No Fate!/ was effective for the original cut of Blade Runner and a few other works, but by the time Good Will Hunting rolled around it was already a horrible, horrible cliché’. Any director with balls, any artist with ambition (even flawed uneven ambition) would recognize this and shoot for something better. The so-called ambiguous ending has become a lazy cipher, a trick for artists too chickenshit to offend the ruling class of the pop culture scene. Ambiguity, you see, provides room for ironic detachment, which for hipsters—and a lot of people really—is a comfort zone. “Life doesn’t have endings. Things just keep going. You choose what happens next. The viewer is always in control of the story.” Yes, it’s only a movie…only a movie…only a movie.

In other words, our good friends the AVhipsters, who pride themselves on sophistication and ironic detachment, have been angling for the safe, standardized ending, the Hollywood ending, an ending that is merely artificial uncertainty, because accepting anything else would mean that it’s NOT only a movie: it’s a howl, furious, soaked in blood, raging against very real injustices and disappointments.

Hipsters suffer from a condition similar to vampirism; instead of blood, they need irony.

Of course, vampire myths are riddled with supposed weaknesses and wards: wooden stakes, sunlight, etc. Hipsters, as far as I know, have only two real weaknesses:

one, a six foot tall metal head with a knife; and two, sincerity. Hipsters hate sincerity, especially in their art. They don’t know what to do with it, can’t tell it apart from sentimentalism and can’t process it on face value (which is where ironic detachment comes in but I don’t wanna go on a rant).

Well, I doubt anyone will believe me now when I say I don’t hate hipsters, but I’m gonna insist anyway!

As a final note, I’m sure there are plenty of genuine criticisms of The Mist, no film, even great ones, are perfect. Heck, the flaws give them character, but this whole line of reasoning behind the ending is just stupid. If you want to hate the ending at least find a reason that doesn’t espouse a cliché.

The Mist

I’ve watched a lot of horror films. My Master’s thesis involved horror films and terrorism. I’ve seen good ones, bad ones, funny ones, self-loathing ones, but none of them was an angry horror film. Yeah yeah slasher films are gory, lots of people die very theatrical deaths, the torture films are pseudo-topical, hiding behind the screams; too afraid to ever say the words “Iraq” or “united states government” or “Guantanamo Bay.” Dawn of the Dead was a vicious critique of consumerism, but it was, at its heart, a satire.

None of them, not a single one, comes close to capturing the anger of The Mist. Mr. Darabont is pissed, and he’s not gonna take it anymore.

I talked to the screen at this movie. I made exclamations at the screen. “I’ve seen a hundred movies with you, and you’ve never done that” a friend observed.

This film is about politics, class, religion, reason, authoritarianism, the abyss, fathers and sons, war, and yes, gore. I’m sure some out there will say it is heavy handed; I’d disagree, it’s accurate, deadly accurate. As the Milgram experiment, the SPE, and Nazism illustrate, this IS the way people behave when the shit hits the fan. These are the things they say; these are the things they do.

And the fact that the protagonist’s profession is artist is telling, very telling about Mr. Darabont’s feelings not about art, rather the devaluation of the artist in society; mistrusted for the book learnin’ and their thinking.’ What do they know right? They just draw pictures and make pretty sounds!

A reviewer on chud.com compared this film to John Carpenter’s The Thing, and I think he is dead on. They share a common language of paranoia punctuated with Rorschach monstrosity: in each scene the monstrous is never the same. It is flux. The meaning is always just a little bit different.

Requiem

I watched Requiem for a Dream last night. I think I’ve seen all of Darren Aronofsky’s (sp?) films: Pi, Requiem, and The Fountain. All of these films are very good. Shit, the last two are genius. Requiem is an anti-drug movie that isn’t preachy or smug. It doesn’t moralize. In fact, I would that the depiction of drug use, while at times startling, even frightening, is secondary to its success. The film succeeds because it examines the issue of addiction itself; it examines how we think of “drugs,” and how our limited notion of what we can be addicted to affects what we are, in fact, addicted to. Television, prescription drugs, and sex are society’s acceptable drugs; but that doesn’t mean you’re liberated from the dangers of addiction.

It is also one of the most depressing movies I have ever seen, second only to IZO (and for different reasons). IZO’s bloody and bleak nihilism is replaced with tragedy. Requiem stacks tragedy upon tragedy. All of the primary characters meet a tragic fate. And the final tragedy—this isn’t a spoiler—is that none of the characters realize what’s happened to the other characters! They don’t even have the ability to grieve for the sorry state of their compatriots. Their isolation is complete.

If you watch this movie here’s some advice. Grab a couple of your favorite foods, maybe pizza, candy, and a tasty root beer, and eat them after the movie. You will need something to make you feel better, and yes I realize the irony in saying that when talking about a movie on addiction, but loving a thing is not the same as addiction :P

Change of direction: the writer's strike

Well, unless you are culturally retarded or—you know—actually retarded you’ve heard about the writer’s strike in tinsel town. I know this ain’t worth much in the grand scheme of things, but I support the writers 100 %. This is supposed to be a blog about sexual trauma, and coping with life in its wake. Well, art, particularly good art, makes that process a little easier. So as far as I’m concerned this is a viable topic for my little island in the web.

I’ve been reading around, mostly on huffingtonpost.com and a few other sites, trying to understand the issues at hand: why the writers are striking, why the studios don’t wanna play ball, the sentiment of commenters, trolls, random passersby, et cetera et cetera.

What I’m finding is that most of the folks who support the strike understand the lay of the land—the rules of Hollywood, specifically why writers have residuals in the first place.

For most folks in La La land employment is never certain, every job is a temporary job. Some jobs just last longer than others, depending on how successful the product (movie/tv show) is. Just like fighters, who are only as good as their last fight, writers (and actors and directors, everyone) are only as good as their last film (or tv show). Now there are a few exceptions, but these apply to A list movie stars and A list directors, who have accrued some political capital. (And for the record I have NEVER heard anyone referred to as an A list writer).

Screenwriters, who haven’t seen an increase in home movie sales since 1989, are hurtin’ pretty bad. To my knowledge there hasn’t even been adjustment for inflation. Combine that with the problem of living in or around Los Angeles, a very expensive town to live in even when the economy is good. And for those of you keeping score at home we’re in the middle of a housing crisis and a gas crisis. Things look to get worse in the foreseeable future. I’m not a number wiz, but I reckon the cost of living is about seventy thousand just to make ends meet—most likely by the way my estimate is conservative.

Now the people—I’m excluding film execs et al—who have crapped on the strike don’t seem to have a realistic idea of how Hollywood works.

“Fire the writers and hire a whole new crop! With better ideas! And imaginations!”

Huh? Ok guess what, most of the people who want to work in Hollywood are already there. Where is this magical “new” crop supposed to come from? The market is already saturated. And those fresh faces out of film school? Hmm. You’ve got to be pretty fucking stupid if you’re a NYU graduate and you burn your alumnae network. You will NEVER get to work with Spike Lee, Ang Lee, or any other highly connected NYU alumnus because THEY WILL BLACKLIST YOU. And as for “better ideas,” it’s not that the overall body of writers is poor; but collaborative art and the economics of collaborative art, are labyrinthine. Write 100 great scripts. Now turn them into MOVIES. Five of them might be great, 20 will be middling, 10 will be poor, 10 will be god awful, and the rest will be stuck in development hell. Outsourcing won’t do a damn thing.

“These guys are greedy who do they think they are blah blah”
See above. Really, I won’t type it again.

“This isn’t the studios fault. Things are out of their control”

I recognize the studios can’t see the future; however, they have the resources to approximate the future impact of technologies, and quite frankly if studio execs make bad deals they should be fired. Screw golden parachutes, golden bungee cords, golden showers, a side of effect their departure should not be exorbitant bonuses. As in other corporate structures wealth is overconcentrated at the top—this is not to say that studio execs shouldn’t be paid well, this is a volatile, dangerous executive position in a volatile fickle market—I don’t have a problem with golden handshakes, within reason—they deserve performance based bonuses and penalties. If the studios are as strapped as they claim, having a treasure chest for a rainy day by way of performance based pay, might have provided them with some bargaining wiggle room.

Suffice to say, I’ll be keeping a close eye on the strike.

Hi there

Been away for a few days, enjoying the time I had with my girlfriend, but I'm a little distressed. Most of the visit went ok, but near the end I experienced virtual tantrums. In my head I lost my temper and shook her but never outside the boundaries of my imagination. This is one of the reasons I wanted to move away from her in the first place, learning to cope with that emotional harmonic is difficult for me because I have thrown violent tantrums in the past, never around her though. I've had a couple of major depressive episodes in my life and the last one expressed itself through screaming, crying, tossing, the kind of displays that tend to be a deal breaker in a relationship. If you've ever seen Punch Drunk Love--and if you haven't you should--my relationship to anger parrallels that of the Adam Sandler character. Regardless of the tempo of reality I experience anger as a slow creeping, crawling build, and when I explode people look at me with a "gee wtf was that about?" or "that uncalled for" look on their faces. She was unaware I was having these thoughts until a few days ago.

I'm making things sound worse than they are. We had a good time filled with sex, talking, eating, exercise (mostly me exercising) watching movies and more sex.