Home Again, Home Again...

Well, Smokey's happy--the pack is back together tonight. The cat is happy to have laps to sit on and heat in the house. I'm happy 'cause I got to put in 6 hours at the Ranch, and make a run to Costco--got a couple of Christmas presents taken care of. When I got to The Island the roads were a bit worse than on the main-land, but the freeways were okay, but when I pulled into the side-streets to go pick up Smokey, they got progressively worse the deeper I got into the woods. I finally just parked the car and walked in--dark of night...barking dogs on the street...not pleasant. But I got Smokey, and he stayed nicely compliant back to the car. The moon came out, and it was much easier to see. K had made it home, and said our street was much improved, and it is. Up the top-side and "Dead-Man's Curve" (where the scraper went off the road) are still pretty icey, but down where we are is smooth sailin'. Even went up the drive-way, throwin' caution to the wind (besides I had a bunch of Costco stuff to bring in)

But...I'm exhausted. Goin' in early tomorrow, and then takin' care of some business downtown. But I'm not going to do the Clay Jenkinson/Teddy Roosevelt thang tomorrow night. So I'm cancelling cancelling cancelling. Those of you in "The League," go! Enjoy yourselves! Me, I'm gonna sleep, sleep, sleep, Sominex or no.

You know, I've written something every day this week. That's a "first." But it probably won't last.

But expect a review tomorrow that's been in a holding pattern for a week.

Free at Last....

Free at Last!

Thank God Almighty, We Are Free At Last!

I've discovered how to keep my toes warm in the snow (Three layers of sock).
I can remove chains in 3 minutes time.
I can put on chains in 10 minutes time (and Les Schwab's instructions are water-proof!)
Got K's car to a high-and-dry place...
Streets are okay except for my street, natch... (I was told the snow-plow (The one I saw last night?) skidded into the ditch...
We'll be weathering tonight's storm on the main-land.
Back to rescue the dog (at the sitter's) and the cat (from eating mountains of food) tomorrow night.

Be Well...and Maintain a Safe Following Distance.

Chains...

Les Schwab has my car locked up in chains...

Spent a fine, sunny afternoon chaining up the cars and making a run up the hill. I made it. K didn't. We have papers to sign tomorrow in Tacoma, so we have to get her out somehow. Will make an early run of it first thing in the A.M. Oh, and it would be nice if I could get to work at least one day this week.

What's that I hear? It's a John Deere snow-plow! Finally...last time we got snowed in here it took three days, as well.

It's Day 03 of us being held hostage by the Snow-gods, but at least we know who to blame! The novelty has now worn razor-thin, and although it's really quite lovely (We have the Christmas card photo all picked out!), it's time for it...and us...to leave. Got shopping to do. Gainful employment. And it looks like we'll need another cord of wood to get through the winter. One nice thing, though, is we never lost power...so we've been watching the world go on without us.

Hmmm. Looks like there's a storm warning for another system to come through Wednesday night.

Will someone go over to Dingo's house and make her stop chanting?

John Gilbert - The House Lights Lowered

I hadn't talked to John Gilbert for years, the last time being to organize some get-togethers with a local actor who'd moved away and was coming back, as it happened, to say goodbye to old comrades. I'd heard John was living in Arizona, acting. He no longer was playing Sherlock Holmes for Jim French's "Imagination Theater" series. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that someone had been directed to "An Unpublished Life" via search engine using the words "Seattle actor John Gilbert" (I'd mentioned John here). I knew something was up.

John died a couple weeks ago. If you've lived in Seattle for very long, you probably'd heard of John from the decades of stage work he did here: first, at the UW, then the Rep, ACT, Intiman. He trod the boards of all of them. But, he was most known for playing Scrooge in ACT's annual production of "A Christmas Carol." John and ACT's production were as integral to a Northwest Christmas as the star over The Bon Marche, or visiting Santa at Frederick & Nelson's, or lighting the Christmas tree lights on the torch of the Space Needle...buying your tree for cheap at Chubby & Tubby's. It seemed like John always played Scrooge, and he did it with such verve--both as the penny-pinching miser, and the born-again philanthropist, that it was a thrill to see...however many times you'd seen it. A fellow actor (Hi, Bob Zenk) I traded Gilbert stories with last week told me he can't see the Dickens lines without hearing John's intonations.

But he did so much more than Scrooge. The last time I saw him on stage he played not only Tito, but Lucifer in a play by two Bosnian playwrights. And he also played The Devil for the Globe Radio Repertory Chekhov plays I worked on with Jean Sherrard years ago. We talked about adding something to John's voice to make him sound more sepulchral...and we ended up just putting the slightest shade of echo on it, and that was it...John had nailed it. That's what John did.

Once at a session, John hung out for longer than normal, talking and yacking and smoking. It was only after he'd gone and taken a sip from my Coke that I found out he'd been flicking his ashes in my Coke can. But I got him back. Once, on the rare occasion he couldn't make a recording date, I'd done an imitation of him as a stop-gap. He wasn't too pleased when he heard it.

A lifelong smoker, he died of cancer and emphysema.

A lifelong Communist, he now resides in the Worker's Paradise.

There is a Memorial Service for him tonight at the Leo "K" Auditorium at the Rep.

One final bow, John.

Beautiful...But Inconvenient

Submitted for your approval-two photographs. The one on the left is from today, showing the 2 inches of snow Nature provided us, and the warm glow that emanates from within the cabin. It looks like the place is on fire, but in the dimness of twilight that's how the bright lights of the house appear. It's for certain we didn't go with an orange interior color-scheme. Please also note the fine landscaping idea of tree rounds littering the yard in an artless style that makes it appear that they landed right where they fell. Also, note the dog of some five years walking in his master's footsteps so that a close-up can be taken of him in the snow...which didn't turn out.
Now, to the photograph on the right showing my lovely wife at our old digs in Normandy Park where, five years ago this week, a new snow greeted us, soon after bringing home said previously-mentioned dog at the tender age of eight weeks. (Awww..and no, Scott, I don't want a puppy) Five years, 50 miles and 50 pounds of dog separate these two photographs.

But, no, it's beautiful out here...if inconvenient. Both cars are down on the street on level ground, awaiting the morning's scrapings and pre-heatings, all to the tune of Paul Simon's "Slip-Slidin' Away"-a particular favorite on the Island. I was encouraged to hear the sounds of dripping while brooming the snow off the satellite dish (so I could send this to you) this evening. Nice while it lasted. Good to see it go.
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"What a Difference a Toe-Nail Makes"

Smokey (^ dog? Remember?) was down in the dumps all week. Cling-y. Had to be around one of us. Irritable. He (and Katheryn) had been attacked by previously-friendly dogs on Tuesday. So we attributed it to shock (Katheryn's fine, by the way, but mightily p.o.'d at Nature...just a month and a half ago, she was bit by a spider and got to see her hand swell up another 50%...she's okay, but, brother...living out here, with creatures and raptors, you don't get all-gooey and Disney-ish about being among wild-life...it's every creature for themselves and Bambi-be-damned). One sad dog. Mopey. Are you getting the picture that he was not well? We also thought it might be because we left him alone in the house for a few hours Wednesday (K and I went on a date), and Thursday, Thanksgiving (we had a lovely meal with my sister on the Mainland--a buffet Thanksgiving that couldn't have been better, and good company and good wine, and lawdy, lawdy even the ferries were with us!), so along with the attack, we thought he might be feeling fragile (An Australian Blue Heeler, whose usual mission in life is to bite the noses of cattle, "feeling fragile"...This is how pet-owners think). He'd limp after walks. We were worried about him. Friday, we gave him an all-points inspection and, lo and behold, a split toe-nail! Not just split--splintered, and very deep. Next morning, we're able to squeeze in a quick trim and Smokey's good to go. Walks. Rides. Breakfast-brunch this morning (we smuggled out some bacon for him), and a long walk in the snowy woods out by Coupe Deville. Back to his old self, free of pain--happy as all-giddy-up. "What a difference a toe-nail makes"
Have you checked your toe-nails lately?
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"Deja Vu" ain't what it used to be

Went out last night and saw "Deja Vu" with Farmer Scott (^ Scott? Has puppies?) and had quite the enjoyable time (The review is coming, but given how "The Departed" took three weeks to find a space here, don't be holding your breath for it...there's other stuff on the run-way). Pizza at the theater, and "mmm-mmm" pie at Denny's after. Scott's been in New Zealand for the last couple of weeks and he regaled with stories from Next-to-Down-Under, and we had a nice enjoyable chat (plus he gave me a couple of good jokes for the review..."Schrödinger's Cat!"...HA!). Now, Scott hadn't taken any e-mail addresses with him when he went, so to contact me while away, he did so through THE BLOG. And we discussed various aspects of this thing as a communications tool. One subject did come up: "Why don't people comment?" Some do, but it's sporadic. The usual crowd does a shout-out or two, and a couple of "strays" in the blogosphere have said some nice things (for comments, many thanks). But there's not a lot of give-and-take. I expected there to be some on the "Anytime Movies" and "Personal Heroes," but really...not so much. Scott had an answer for it: "Because you're RIGHT!" Yeah, I'll take that. But I'm going to throw something in here over the next couple of weeks to generate some responses, I'll just call them "Queries"--Questions that require a personal answer. Sherrard, a "00" at the "Casino Royale" showing, had a good one--in fact, he just threw it out as a conversation-starter. I've got another which kinda stumped Scott. They're personal questions that either require some deep thinking, or you know immediately...right off the top of your head. But they require responses. And there are no right answers. Just yours.
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Also, remember, coming up Friday is this. At this point, I don't even know if I'm going, but keep it in mind...and it's free.

Review-"The Departed"

Institutionalized Ball-Busting

Call it the Scorsese Thesis: First a guy tells you what he's gonna tell ya, then Marty shows ya, then you're on your own.

In the case of "The Departed" "the Guy" is Jack Nicholson's Frank Costello, a seedy Boston crime-lord from "some years ago." "I don't want to be a product of my environment," says the shadowy Frank (Scorsese's way of showing Frank as a younger man). "I want my environment to be a product of me."

Nicholson's Costello makes good on that promise on two fronts--in the scenario of "The Departed," and the movie, itself. Costello's control over his Boston turf (or, using the accent Martin Sheen employs here, "too-urf")is so absolute, his reach extends from his surly band of criminals to the police department, culminating in one of his own crew (Matt Damon) infiltrating the very task force investigating his activities. Simultaneously, the player on the other side, Captain Queenan (Sheen) has trolled the new recruits to find his own mole (Leonardo deCaprio) to infiltrate Costello's crew. It turns into a complicated Spy Vs. Spy with both moles straddling the moral fence, while completely unsure of their footing on either side. And while trying to rat out their suspected counter-part while not drawing attention to their own treacheries. They're mutually duplicitous. As Costello says in the Thesis: "When I was growing up, they would say you could become cops or criminals. But what I'm saying is this. When you're facing a loaded gun, what's the difference?"

It's a complicated game of Jack's Straws...set in a house of mirrors. Drop Nicholson's weight into the middle of it, and the whole thing threatens to pancake...much like the movie. This first colaboration with Scorsese is similar to Marlon Brando's eccentric performance in "The Missouri Breaks," where an actor so drapes himself in business that he attracts the eye in the same way as a car-wreck--you wonder what in Hell this crime-clown (it is much like Nicholson's Joker in "Batman" without the make-up)is going to do next. Damon and DeCaprio were not clued into his on-set antics and so their scenes are played with the right touch of paranoid hesitancy. There's a strained wariness behind their eyes and they've rarely been better.

As good as they are (and excessive as Nicholson is) best among the cast is Alec Baldwin as a fast-talking divison head, but the real revelation here is Mark Wahlberg. Marky-Mark walks away with the picture and dominates every scene he is in, no matter who's in it with him. In fact, in the one scene Baldwin and Wahlberg share, Scorsese throws in a couple of "Raging Bull" camera moves for a verbal feint and parry between the two. It's a director's nod to two extraordinary actors doing solid work, free of gimmicks.

As for Scorsese, if you're looking for a return to his greatest efforts, this isn't it. It makes you wonder what he's up to. This story is nothing new, and is in fact based on a Chinese film (and its two sequels, actually) that owes more to the early personal style that he fails to deliver on here. What's the fascination? We've seen the cop/criminal discotomy, as well as the conflicts of working undercover in better films. He's doing program work, not personal work. This isn't "Raging Bull" or "Mean Streets" or "KunDun" or "Goodfellas." This is "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore." Or "New York New York." Or "The Aviator." One senses he's pacing himself, keeping his hand in the game doing agency "package" movies until the next inspiration comes along. Perhaps he should ditch DeCaprio, and find that last, good DeNiro project. He's too good a film-maker to waste on remakes and empty biographies. Maybe after the struggles he went through to bring his last personal project to the screen he's asking himself at this point in his career "What's the difference?"

"The Departed" is a Rental-You gotta problem wid 'at?

Thanks!

1. For no longer having to sit at the kid's table
2. For living in the greatest nation on Earth...it has such potential
3. For having a roof over my head (to keep out #7)
4. For my wife...and her infinite patience and grace
5. For my family...always there in good times, but especially in bad
6. For my friends who have stayed friends...no matter the distance...no matter the time*
7. For the Nature that has surrounded me these past few months and made me stop...and consider
8. For the opportunities that life affords me on a day to day basis
9. For reading this, you stray readers who've made this a regular "haunt"
10. For the memories

Which brings us to this audio blog by my buddy, Jeff Hoyt, courtesy of "Hoytus Interruptus"
http://www.hoytus.com/

*Scott, I know you're reading this...You haven't written in awhile. I'll bet Debbie wants to know how the trip is going...

Review-"Casino Royale" (2006)

Breaking Bonds

Is it that good?
Short answer: yes.
Is he that good?
Yeah. He's the best thing about it. There are other good things as well, but let's look at Bond 6.0.

Not conventionally handsome, not the Arrow-shirt version of Bond, Craig has a multi-planed face that's great to watch whether it's jammed up against a shattered bathroom mirror considering just how much pressure it's going to take to strangle an assailant* or, half-a-movie later in another bathroom mirror, clearly satisfied with himself in a newly-tailored tuxedo jacket. His acting choices are subtle, nicely measured. His atypical look is just one of the many breaks from the past in a series that has not only embraced cliches, but luxuriated in them, and would even occasionally ham-string a promising entry to accomodate them (quite opposite from the early intentions of the producing team, which was to go against the grain of conventional thrillers--something not to far afield from Fleming's literary intentions--and surpass them, and in that regard, "Casino Royale" is the first film since "Goldfinger" to actually improve on its source.) The films are, after all, about Bond, so you'd better have somebody interesting in the lead, and Craig's Bond, his face becoming criss-crossed with scars as the movie progresses, makes you care just how much of a toll the mission is taking on him, both physically and psychologically. When was the last time anybody gave a damn about James Bond's soul in the movies?

In this "reboot" the cliches are dusted off, their origins shown and exposed for the good ideas they once were. The stunts and longish action sequences are still there, but they're used, at their best, to expose character.** There are gadgets, but nothing you couldn't find in catalogs this Christmas (technology has long since caught up to Bond with cell-phones, GPS tracking and personal defibrillators). "The James Bond Theme" is merely hinted at in the body of the film and in the "Secret Agent Man"-ish title song*** (growled by home-boy Chris Cornell), saved for the end with a fully formed (for good and ill) Bond.

As good as Craig is, he's matched by his co-stars. Mads Mikkelson as LeChiffre has a nice, oily quality to him, and certainly projects the most danger to Bond since Robert Shaw's Red Grant (in "From Russia With Love"), The only cast member retained (so far) from the Brosnan films is Dame Judi Dench, whose "M" is finally given the authoritative role over Bond that Bernard Lee once had, rather than seeming like Bond's subordinate.

And the Bond-"girls?" Well, there is Ivana Milicevic, who's there mostly for decoration. But Caterina Murino certainly can act, and brings a nice world-weary resignation to the role as a terrorist's wife out for some revenge. But the revelation here is Eva Green, who's Vesper Lynd manages to flesh out the cypher that Fleming created. A mystery in the book, Green conveys a genuine human being, and her scenes with Craig are some of the best written exchanges(and are cracklingly well delivered)in the series, and includes one heart-breaker of a scene, after a brutal fight in a stairwell. It's so moving and so well-done that it's surprising to see it in a Bond movie.

And that's the thing: there has always been a great deal of disparity between what constitutes a "Good James Bond Movie" and a genuinely "Good Movie." And this is a "Good Movie"...which happens to have James Bond in it...that can stand as a fine drama, AS WELL AS holding its own in the adventure/action aisle. I didn't cringe at a performance or roll my eyes at a joke once and if there was one thing I was dissatisfied with it might be the small amount of screen-time given to Jeffrey Wright...and maybe tweak the ending a bit. Credit the writers (regulars Purvis and Wade and the ubiquitous Paul Haggis), the director (Martin Campbell, who did "Edge of Darkness") and super-editor Stuart Baird. This is going to be a fun one to watch slowed down on DVD. Oh, and "Cubby" Broccoli's kids, who followed up one of the most profitable movies in the series (the loud, obnoxious video-gamer "Die Another Day") with this. Talk about gambling....

"Casino Royale"(2006) is a Full-Price Ticket to be chased by a large tumbler of Scotch and a warm, comforting shower

* Oh, did I say "strangled?" There's a lot of very brutal violence in this movie (not just card-playing in tuxedoes)that managed to skirt by with an inexplicable PG-13 Rating, including a scene where Bond is stripped naked, tied to a seat-less chair, and has his testicles beaten with a very heavy, very gnarly knotted rope--a scene that should send any 13 year old boy running for the bathroom. This is not the clean "one-shot/no-blood" violence of past Bonds. Here the violence is fast, painful brutish and bloody. Be warned.

** There is a wonderful moment when Bond has just (barely) foiled an attempt at industrial espionage, where he cocks his head, exhausted, at the untouched target and quietly marvels at what he's done.

***The title sequence is also unique--gone are the writhing go-go girls--but should delight anyone who grew up with the imaginative main titles of many a 60's spy series.

Return to Normalcy-cy-cy-cy

Meet the New Congress/Same as the Ol' Congress

Gee, just when the icicles of cynicism over our government were falling from my nose, the first thing Congress does is vote for its new/old leaders (re-arranging the deck-chairs?) and in so doing, reveal true colors. The 'Pubs bring back racist good ol' boah Trent Lott (what a shining example of ... living in the 19th Century?), while the Dem's show just how unified they are...by electing the one guy the new HouseSpeaker doesn't get along with to be HouseMajLead. Brilliant. What was the strategy here, boys, "Let's show them wimmin to not git too uppity?"
Any billionaires out there (not too flaky) who can start a successful 3rd (4th/5th) political party?
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Speaking of Power Failures

The Island...the entire Island...lost power Wednesday after a brief flirtation with black-out on Tuesday night. I was at The Ranch of Erratic 1's/0's, where there was power-aplenty, but surge-protectors were working over-time.

K called to say "don't come home, things are a mess." And, indeed, they were. Driving into work there were no traffic lights (4-way stops), which would have made me late for a ferry if they'd been running on time. They weren't. Instead of their usual on-the-half-hour schedule, they were lurching into dock when they could. I caught the 10:39 ferry, having missed the 10:21. They had enough generator power to lower the dock-ramps. There was a line around the Freeland grocery store as they were giving out free ice cream from the now-useless freezer section. Freeland, indeed. And I got several calls from K where there was no one on the line. Verizon was also down.

I stayed with my sister, having the foresight to keep a sleeping bag in my car...a hold-over from my driver's training class so many years ago (Thanks, "Crazy" Ed!). Katheryn stayed at the cabin, having plenty of fire wood to keep the place warm and lots and lots of candles for light. She had a fine dinner of soup and grilled-cheese sandwich cooked on the wood-stove, and watched as fronts from the South and North collided, blew out the clouds over the Passage and provided an amazing lightning storm over the mountains. She thought it was pretty cool, though there was a dissenting opinion from the animals. On the mainland, I wore the same clothes to work the next day and took a shower in the first floor bathroom where one of the stalls had a stripped-out hot/cold knob and the other had no hot water at all. Sorta like camping at a multi-BILLION dollar facility. But now, the massive generator at Mt. Vernon is back on-line and the lights are back on. I got to finish editing my freelance work and Katheryn got to finish the fourth season of "Bewtched." We'd complain, but it seems like the power always shut off if someone sneezed in Normandy Park. We've been talking a lot about Nicola Tesla at work. And not in an Art Bell kinda way.
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Oh...and another thing about powerlessness: Just as I'm hearing a cheery radio report that because of free-falling oil prices, we'll probably be seeing <$2.00 a gallon gas, I pass by my "cheapest gas in town" stand-bys, and the price is up fifteen cents per gallon. Hmmm. What could possibly be coming up (say, in a week or so) that would cause the oil companies to raise their prices? This is why 1) I laugh too loudly when someone tells me that oil-prices are dictated by "market forces," and b) I think we're the turkeys being served up for Thanksgiving. It's a very simple equation. You increase the price at the time when car-travel increases and as long as you avoid expenditures like repairing or building a refinery you increase your profits exponentially . Then you can invest in, say, dry-holes and Senators from Alaska (or is that the same thing?).

On the other hand, "Who Killed the Electric Car?" was released on video this week. Highly recommended...if only to see Mel Gibson with the gooniest beard in Creation.
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Thanks to Tim Hunter for the title, but then he hasn't been using it for 20 years, so.....

Where Were You When

Olde reviews - "Jaws"

I was looking at an old work-book from a UW course I took on Film (Cinema 201-Section AB) way back in 1975. The assignment was to keep a journal of films you saw/film-related things you were doing. And I found this entry for October 5 (with errors intact):

"After putting it off all Summer I went to see the summer's most lucrative film, "Jaws." Despite the fact that it was a matinee showing with what seemed like Western Washington's entire pre-teen population running up and down the aisles, and despite a projectionist whose religion must have prohibited properly framing a film, one was able to glom some sort of satisfaction out of the efforts of Steven Spielberg. I haven't seen much of Spielberg's work on television or theater (I didn't see "Sugarland Express" or many of his "Columbo" episodes) but those I have seen shows him to be a concentrator on montages, and a manipulator of audience reactions through erratic editing.
First of all, I have to say that the movie is a darn sight better than the novel it is based on. Spielberg and his screenwriters Gottlieb and Benchley have taken out the unnecessary sub-plots and gotten down to brass tacks by concentrating on the shark and its influence on the denizens of Amity. The first half of the film deals with the suspicions and final confirmation that there is a chomping monster out there in the water. The second half deals with the attempts of Brody, Quint and Hooper to subdue the beast. The fact that the movie is so clearly divided into two sections leaves them open to be compared with each other. As such, I prefer the first half. In this section, Spielberg moves logically from one incident to the next, playing on the suspense of the viewer. Also in this section is Spielberg's best sequence in the picture. As people mill and swim along the beach, Scheider sits on the beach watching for any shark activity in the water. Using passers-by as a blind to soften the jolt and heighten disorientation, Spielberg cuts closer and closer to Scheider as his (and our) tension mounts. Spielberg cuts back and forth between the various people of interest and Scheider, teasing the viewer with a gliding swimming cap (an example of perverse humor running throughout the film, something totally left out of the book, and an improvement) and some underwater shots of splashing limbs (a previous visual signal that the shark was ready to attack), a piece of wood floating in the water that a now-deceased dog had been retrieving. Spielberg builds until when the shark attacks, Brody's horror is shown in a "Rear Window" type of space ripping that brings Brody closer and the surrounding area farther away, separating him from his surroundings. This final scene might have been done faster for my taste, but that Spielberg thought of using it at all, is to be admired. The whole sequence is well-cooordinated, tightly edited, and completely effective. As such, it is representative of the first half as a whole: logically scripted, meticulously photographed and planned, tightly edited. Of course, in the first half Spielberg concentrates on proof of the shark's existence. We never fully see it and Spielberg plays on our suspense in anticipating another attack.
With the second part, the suspense leaves. Spielberg, in the scenes in (sic) the Orca, Quint's boat, must rely on grotesque shots of the shark's maw, and sheer savagery, such as Quint being chewed alive. Subtlety leaves the picture. So does the execution that was so effective in the first part. Sequences are slip-shod, the editing, ragged and choppy (this for those action sequences in Part 2 to replace the suspense of Part 1). And Spielberg throws crisis upon crisis ("Let's see, is the boat on fire this time or is it taking on water?") Sure, the second part is tense like the first part, but it is also nerve-wracking. I reacted much more differently to Part 2 than to Part 1. The Orca sequences consisted of horrifying images and situations. I reacted with a horror that I also had from watching the various human torches in "Towering Inferno," a very inferior film, that relied solely on such horrors, for its shocks. Part 1 had much fewer than these, and instead of giving us a jolt from an unexpected violent action draws it out by making it expected and making us wait for it. Hitchcock can draw out such a scene expertly. Spielberg shows signs in Part 1 that he can also. But for now, he also must depend on sudden violence for a shock; a common weakness in films today."

Teacher's Remark: "Best treatment of the film I've yet read anywhere."

Well, as generous as that comment is, I still sound like a little snot, reading this. It's interesting to note this was at the beginning of Spielberg's career...long before he became "Dreamworks SKG"...and was still looked on as a novice film-maker, even by one such as me. And I agree with just about everything I said here. But then, Spielberg shot the film this way because he didn't have a working "mechanical shark" that he could use for the majority of the film's shooting, forcing him to use substitutes...like floating barrels, and to shoot an awful lot of peripheral stuff...and when he did use "Bruce," as the "shark" came to be known, well, it just didn't look very convincing. Hence the look and erratic nature of "Part 2"--the Orca scenes. Recall Orson Welles' line: "The enemy of art is the absence of limitations." I also found a paper on "The Godfather" I wrote for the same class that proved controversial. I'll get around to that one one of these days.

Review-"Flags of Our Fathers"

Photo Opportunism

Every year, like clockwork, Clint Eastwood makes a new film, and they become instant Oscar-bait. His last one was "Million Dollar Baby" (Hilary Swank won Best Actress-her second award, and Morgan Freeman won Best Supporting Actor) The year before that, "Mystic River" (winning Oscars for both Sean Penn and Tim Robbins). Eastwood shoots movies fast in a calm environment and leaves actors alone to do their job. And while most directors are making movies that jump and whirl just to prove they're doing their jobs, Eastwood sets up the shot, does a take or two and moves on. He's efficient, fast, and doesn't do any fancy cutting or post-production. In this way, he's very much like his mentor, Don Siegel. Siegel, too, wasn't afraid to throw a little controversy into the mix. Eastwood, a moderate Republican, has made movies recently that have condemned vigilante violence and lack of process ("Mystic River"), and turned a sympathetic eye to euthanasia ("Million Dollar Baby"). His recent work is not for the complacent, and "Flags of Our Fathers" is just as impatient with easy myths and lazy thinking. "Saving Private Ryan" can look at "The Greatest Generation" and sentimentalize them while acknowledging their sacrifice. Eastwood's film has the audacity to question blind patriotism and that sentimentality for the purposes of hucksterism. I'm sure when some neo-con blowhard actually sees this movie there's going to be as much controversy as there was around "Million Dollar Baby" among panicky right-to-lifers. As it is, I've already heard some CBS radio reporter in Iraq talking about the stationed soldiers "fighting for each other, rather than the cause," a line right out of the movie. How quickly this stuff travels...

Performances are top-notch from a bunch of actors never given their due--here, they shine. Guys like Robert Patrick and Neal McDonough, good actors (whom you know from other things) with odd faces that will never be leading men are revelations here. Gordon Clapp from NYPD Blue has one scene of such comic ferocity that you'll never see him the same way again. Ryan Phillipe, thought of as the less-talented of a Hollywood marriage (and ironically they split up right after this film came out), belies that here. Barry Pepper, from "Ryan" plays an "old vet" of 25, with the slightest veneer of gravitas and bravado. And Adam Beach, of "Smoke Signals" and the Tony Hillerman adaptations on PBS, has never displayed the potential of his performance here. He has one devastating scene that will get him nominated him for an Oscar and probably win it for him. The day I saw it, there wasn't a dry eye or a nose unsniffled after it. The story of Ira Hayes has been told before on screen and in song, but never so effectively as here.

Eastwood's next movie will be coming out quickly, as he shot it simultaneously with "Flags...". It's also about Iwo Jima...from the Japanese perspective-"Letters from Iwo Jima."

Eastwood is so good, he's scary.

"Flags of Our Fathers" is a Full-Price Ticket.

Do something to celebrate your freedom today.

It's Veteran's Day

Semper Fi

Review -"Hollywoodland"

Fearful Symmetry

It's been a long time since I'd seen a new movie--the last was "Superman Returns"--and I'd compiled a short list in my mind of films I wanted to see, and should, as the Holiday Movie Season was galumphing closer. "Hollywoodland"--another "Superman" movie of sorts--was the first released on the list, and by coincidence it was playing at the Uptown Theater on lower Queen Anne just a couple of blocks from where my business' post office box is.

I'd been following the movie's production process for years. Kyle McLachlan was attached, then not. It was greenlit, then not. "Snake-bit" was more like it. It was based, supposedly, on the investigation into the George Reeves' (TV's winking "Superman" in the 50's) suicide, which had more than enough "urban legends" attached to it. An interesting idea for a movie. Besides, I liked Reeves. And co-worker's descriptions of him belied the depressed suicide scenario that was the accepted explanation.

But if you're looking for answers, "Hollywoodland" gives you none. What it gives you is a shabby L.A. P.I., late of studio security (nice angle, that), asked by Reeve's mother to investigate her son's death. She doesn't know who did it, but it can't be her shining baby boy. Also, true, supposedly.

At that point, the movie goes awry. As investigator Adrian Brody (who never really convinces you of "competence") goes over the details of Reeve's life, we are given the usual trope --big break in "Gone with the Wind" that never pans out, "B" movie existence, the dalliances, the affair with the wife of Eddie Mannix, "Superman" and its career-killing effects, the "From Here to Eternity" disappointment (fiction, evidently). Fortunately (and yes, its a surprise to say this), Reeves is embodied terrifically by Ben Affleck, who manages to convey Reeves' "nice guy" casualness with a "bad-boy" swagger that never trashes Reeves, but emphasizes the charm. Affleck becomes Reeves, to the complement of both. If only the rest of the movie did as much research....

Reeves' "Superman" is shown flying with ropes. Uh...no. Didn't happen. Yes, he had accidents, but not like depicted (stage hands hauling a suspended Reeve around a dilapidated studio for flying scenes makes a funny, sad scene but it's just not true). Also, they hedge their bets on the suicide angle by having the "Superman" series cancelled (celebrated by Reeves with a bonfire of the vanities, burning his "Super-suit" on the barbecue--really, they'd let him have that?) when, in fact, "Superman" was about to go back into production with several episodes to be directed by Reeves. Suicide is a bit harder to swallow when a guy's got career possibilities ahead of him. That aside, the movie also starts hedging its bets with the investigator's story--the deeper he digs, the more resistance he gets, the more determined he becomes to find "the answer" (Detective Movie 101), his personal life starts to disintegrate, he starts to drink, and act stupidly--and I began to hear faint echoes that indicated the screenwriter'd been dipping into Robert Towne's "Chinatown" script. Hmmm.

I could see where this was going--in the course of the detectives backslide, two possible scenarios of Reeves' death are played out as murder, but as the ersatz detective starts to spiral down into depression and drink it's only a matter of screen-time before he inevitably reaches that place where he would see it as natural for Reeves to commit suicide. The only surprise left in the movie being whether he follows Reeves in the death-wish.

Now, earlier in the day, I had gone to a luncheon held by the temp agency I was working for and they gave me a little certificate for exemplary work--I'd been reviewed well and recommended for recognition. It was all very nice, but I couldn't help but dismiss it. This isn't the work I do. It's not work I love. I do it well, but I do it to make money. That's all. And in this sort-of telling of the Reeves story, that's exactly where he was, too. Stuck playing Superman, unable to do anything else because of it--hopelessly typecast and no prospects--in this telling of the story--for the future. I could relate. Too well. And as if to put a sick little bow on the paralleling, I had at this luncheon recieved a tee-shirt from the agency for my service...with a quasi-Superman logo on the chest of it--I was a "Volt Superstar." Huh. It all felt a little too close. And watching the characters on-screen spiral to oblivion wasn't helping much.

I checked my phone. Two calls from my wife and one from a friend. I got up from my chair in the dark and headed for the lobby. I obviously had better things to do with my life and it was best that I get on it with it. I walked out of the theater and outside into the sunshine.

File "Hollywoodland" in your casebook under "Don't Waste Your Life."

Before and After

Before: The Tree in all its termite-ridden glory

After: Smokey sitting where the tree used to be

(his idea, actually)

Is This a Great Country...or What?

Another election.

Another bloodless coup.

Message Sent. With an acknowledgement of receipt.

Bush holds a press conference--using his hectoring voice that ends sentences on an emphatic "up" inflection--complete with "botched" joke about drapes for Nancy Pelosi (a little condescending there, Dubble-Yah?). I would say that he learned his lesson that you can't fool all the people all the time (no matter how long it takes them to take off their rose-colored glasses), but, given his message to "our enemies" not to interpret the vote as "weakness," I don't think he has. The man wears arrogance like Reagan wore teflon, and nothing can penetrate it. And perhaps he should be told that rather than "weakness," it's a show of the American people's strength and resolve. And a demonstration to the people of Iraq just how democracy works, when it works. Sic Semper Tyrannis, you guys. Don't waste a bullet when you've got a ballot.

At least Rumsfeld is out. But another CEO has been nominated. Meet the new boss...

One needs to remember at times that America is The Great Experiment. And it can still fail.
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Voting in Island County was a joy, despite being allowed only a provisional ballot. My polling place in the small passive/aggressive community of Mossback was the "community hall" -- actually a ranch-house-sized lodge--on Firehouse Road, which would be quaint if there was an actual firehouse there. I'd only registered a few weeks ago and though that was enough time to mail me a voter I.D. card, it wasn't long enough to get the elephantine machinery of the elections division to put my name in black and white ink in the ledger.
So, I got a provisional ballot. The old ladies--it's always old ladies--gingerly talked me through the process ("Your vote WILL be counted...but with the absentee's")--making sure to smooth any ruffled feathers. I was fine with it, but the seniors behind me in line got suspicious. "How come he only gets a PROVISIONAL ballot?!" the old guy (probably ten years older than me *sigh*) barked in a prickly tone. "I only moved here a few months ago..." I reassured. "This is fine." But it made me glad that they were informed enough, and suspicious enough of polling-place anomalies (and damned vocal enough) to raise a slight stink. Bless 'em.
I want to volunteer next voting day. I did it in college. I should do it again.
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Folks are going places. Katheryn's in Canada seeing old friends...the pets and me get together at night and forage and huddle for warmth, though they're enjoying the nightly fires in the wood-stove, huddling around me while I make "fire."

FarmerScott's in New Zealand. He e-mailed me (through this blog, in fact, and a hurriedly acquired new e-mail account) to tell me about the trip, and had me call his wife to let her know everything was good. And that he wished she was there. Awww. He also managed to clock more time on "An Unpublished Life etc." than even I did last week. And that takes some doing.

And I thought I had disposable time!
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I don't really. I've been checking out want ads, and pursuing this and that, and putting up blinds, and moving BIG ROUNDS OF WOOD on the ground. Why this strange activity? Wellll, we cut the big tree down in our yard last week (well, actually we hired a crew to come out and do it) and before anybody gets all "Rainbow Warrior" on me, this tree was ten feet from our house, infested with flying termites (our "wooden house," I should add) and leaning precipitously down the embankment we call our yard. It was getting ready to split during the next big storm (which was Monday *whew*) with a landing place of "Who-Knew-Where"--we just knew we didn't want it on our heads...and the street far below, it was that big.
So we had it cut down (before and after pictures to come), which brings a lot more light into the house, which is good, and exposes the house (and thereby, us) far more to the neighbors, which is less than desirable, and so, the blinds of mention and the putting-up-of. Sad to see the tree go (it hasn't, actually, it's lying in VERY HEAVY pieces all over the yard), but with some further landscaping and a couple loads of gravel, it'll make the top of the property much more useful, and a good staging area for anything we plan in the future. Which is good. And the birds were very vocal in thanking us for the tasty termites. And I managed to move the "wood-that-had-to-be-moved" off to the side to allow the landscaping to be done without injuring myself. Which is best.
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I went to see Clay Jenkinson (and so can you by clicking here) last night. He was portraying John Wesley Powell at Foster High School in Tukwila for their local Rotary. I drove all the way from the Island to Tukwila to see this, then drove back...each trip less than 40 minutes from ferry to auditorium and back again. He was on stage from 7:00pm until 9:19pm, in an ebullient mood, and clearly loves coming to the PNW. Tonight, he's in Kirkland as Thomas Jefferson. Sorry. Sold out. Best line last night: "When you play a guy with one arm you have to make a decision: do I put the arm inside your shirt in the front or behind your back for potentially two hours? Suffice it to say, I haven't had my hand down my pants this much since High School." Then there was: "I do travel/lecture groups. This year, it was 'Jefferson's Virginia,' and 'Jefferson's Paris,' and 'Jefferson's Greece' (even though he never went to Greece). (laughter) Hmmm. I dunno. 'Jefferson's Cabo?'"
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Honest Abe e-mailed. He's already picked up tickets for "Casino Royale" at the Cinerama for "the Double-O's," which has been the small group of us who go to see the opening of every Bond movie since...what, "For Your Eyes Only," which would be 1981. Eee-yikes! This year, it's H.A., Jean, and me. Dan of "The Voice of Burnished Oak" is still waking folks up on Martha's Vineyard, so will not be in attendance yet again. "Out, in the field," as we say.

Other than that, life has been a constant marvel of consistency: commuting and testing and commuting and testing and the occasional free-lance gig. And a movie or two.
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Coming up: reviews of a movie or two.

Can It Be Any More Clear?

OPINION November 5, 2006 Editorial: The Difference Two Years Made On Tuesday, when this page runs the list of people it has endorsed for election, we will include no Republican Congressional candidates for the first time in our memory.

Copyright 2006 The New York Times Company Privacy Policy


It's ironic that in this state we have Republicans who, in their advertising, are railing against the policies of incumbent politicians, when it's their own party that is in control, and has been responsible for the very excesses they're "complaining" about. The answer evidently is to put out the fire with more gasoline...and expensive gasoline at that.
At any other time, I would suggest voting a third-party ticket, but currently, with one party controlling the Executive, Representative and stuffing the Judicial Branch, this is not the time.
This is, after all, a time of war. And we should vote accordingly.
Send a mesage. They can't, after all, fire all of us.

Thanks to Bob Zenk for the amazingly forthright Times editorial, and to Greg Day for the graphic graphic

Review-"The Prestige"

"Are you watching closely?" someone asks at the beginning of "The Prestige" (it would be interesting to know who whispers that at the beginning, but it's so soft and indeterminate of voice that you can't tell).

And then, while Michael Caine explains the parts of a magic trick (The "Present," the "Turn," and "The Prestige") you're shown images, then a simple magic trick performed for a child, then, another elaborate magic trick gone awry with the murder of one main character, for which the other main character is arrested and sentenced to death.

That is the "Present" of the film, and while everything you see is absolutely true and occurs in the film, it is not what you think it to be (the "Turn") and when all is revealed (which will occur anywhere between the end of the film and a few hours after it ends) it is then it will occur to you that it is "The Prestige" that leaves you a little disappointed.

Oh, it does everything well. The period details. The terrific cast. The conceits. But, like most of Christopher Nolan's films ("Memento," "Insomnia," "Batman Begins"), you leave not entirely satisfied, while acknowledging that it was all a terrific idea for a movie, and it sure started well...but Nolan seems to be a director who puts more care into the beginning of his films, then just sort of lets his last act "happen." He manages to tie everything up well enough, but never with any real style or a fluorish enough to enervate any audience. "Well, there it is," he seems to say at the end. C'mon, Chris. Sell it a bit more. Or give us an added context. A final ironic jab. Nope. You're left to think about it, and when you've thought it through, sing "Is That All There Is?"

I went with my sister, who's a huge Hugh Jackman fan, and Jackman doesn't disappoint. He can be bland ("Swordfish," anyone?) or he can command (The "X-men" series) and here, he's terrific. Christian Bale, after making the star-making turn of his career with Nolan ("Batman Begins") sinks into "character actor" mode, and mumbles through a credible cockney accent that can be understood 1/2 the time (*cough*), while Michael Caine does another quietly supporting role that makes you appreciate him all the more. There's is a terrific example of stunt casting of David Bowie as Nicola Tesla that makes doesn't seem like a stunt at all, but a canny use of Bowie's exotic persona (Scarlett Johanssen's role seems more like the stunt, frankly--a 100 watt star in a 40-watt role), and Andy Serkis reminds you again how versatile he is even when actually seen.

Based on Christopher Priest's novel (no, he's not the comic-book writer), it's a worthy project to separate Nolan's "Batman" movies.

Rating: a matinee ticket (all the better for dinner discussion).

Happy Birthday, Evan!

My nephew, Evan, has a birthday today. Here he is at 5 leaning on Uncle Yojimbo (Sister Ann hugging on the other side with the Wilson clan looking on-picture taken by Walaka), and a high-school picture (which wasn't). Today, he's in Baton Rouge, trapping animals and tagging them. When I called him this morning, he had the cell-phone in one hand and a swamp-rat in the other. Don't ask him what he wants for his birthday because his beloved Tigers didn't win the Series. But just like birthdays, there's always another one next year.

Happy Birthday, Ev'!