Winter Break (plus Bonus Features)

Whew! What a nice weekend it was. A couple of days of sunshine out at the Cabin, and you forget the wind-storms, the snow, the power-outages, the isolation...and the commute...and just appeciate the vast wonders one can see out the window. Sure, it may be colder than sk-ditch, with stray patches of ice everywhere but the sun manages to bake that right our of your brain. Everything seemed crisp, clean amid acres of blue sky and surf. Nothing can break the winter gloom like a sneak preview of Spring. K and I took the pooch out for a couple of good long walks, and if that didn't make a world of difference in his demeanor...and ours.


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Finishing up John D. MacDonald and like every book-break of his I take, I regret that its about to end. I love reading his prose, his observations, his perfect economy of word-choices. Take for example this little bit: "I went north of the mainland route, past an endless wink and sputter of neon..." Every paragraph crackles like that. Wonderful words. And wry observations. Noting the next generation: "Bless the bunnies. These are the new people, and we are making no place for them. We hold the dream in front of them like a carrot, and finally say sorry you can't have any. And the schools where we teach them non-survival are gloriously architectured. They will never live in places so fine, unless they contract something incurable." And Hammett and Chandler raised their glasses in salute.


MacDonald wrote four McGee's that first year. He might have thought he was slumming, but the results are high architecture. Sometimes a book can thrill you with the way it's written--"Cold Mountain" was that way. I took a long luxurious time meandering through its prose. Although its a different part of town entirely, I do the same with MacDonald.


The plot's not much: it's the first Travis McGee story and some of the supporting characters aren't there (no Meyer!), and the villain is the rat-bastard-child of Max Cady (MacDonald also wrote "The Executioners," which was turned into both versions of "Cape Fear" <1962> and <1991>). McGee's been filmed twice, once with Rod Taylor in the role ("Darker Than Amber"--not too good) and once with Sam Elliott ("The Empty Copper Sea" --Sam's a bit too folksy, but better). Me, I can't think of anybody who'd be a better McGee for right now than Nathan Fillion. After his turn in "Serenity" I can't think of anybody else who could pull off the humor and intelligence and largesse while still giving you the sense he could beat the crap out of you. Plus, he's damned funny, and McGee has to be that. Plus, he could be a boat-bum.


Addedum: As I reached the end of the book there was an ad for an audio-book version, read by Darren McGavin. The young McGavin would have been a perfect McGee--handsome, but not handsome enough. He's in your memory as either "Kolchak: The Night Stalker," or "The Old Man" in "A Christmas Story" (Over the holidays I saw an "Old Man" doll...er, action figure...well...doll that had a fair likeness to McGavin and all sorts of chipped phrases). If I remember correctly he holds the record for appearing in the most number of episodes of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents..." probably because he could play good and bad, humor and comedy and variation of the same all equally well.

Oh, damn. Just after writing this, it seems they're going to make a movie out of the book I'm reading. Shuddering a little at the thought. They'll probably get Vin Diesel.

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K gave in and we watched a movie I wanted to watch--"The Wind and the Lion." She had started it before and stopped because it was violent, involved the Middle-East and had Sean Connery "who never plays anything complicated" (per her) and it just seemed like not something to watch. "Well, give it a chance," I said. "It is a little simplistic, but Milius is too smart a writer to do anything without a little irony." This time it seemed like half the film was horizon shots of tribesmen riding...someplace. But when it's scored by Jerry Goldsmith, you forget that and get caught up in the "sweep." At the end, K. was satisfied, chortling at Milius' visual touches that gave lie to dialogue. "This is one perverse movie." It is. Especially seen in these times. Milius treats his Islamic Berbers with a great deal of admiration, but its tempered with irony, just as, despite his obvious love for Theodore Roosevelt, he can't help but show TR as something of a windy blow-hard and a bit of a petulant child. It's especially interesting to see the film now. An American President wanting respect in the world (and the chance to spread his influence and gain some strategic benefit...all in an election year) embarks on a military crusade to retrieve an American seized by Islamic "pirates." It's all a bit too familiar (and in fact, someone in the Ford administration, when the film was released during the Mayaquez Incident said "We found our 'Patton!'" referring to the inspiration that film had in the bombing of Cambodia). I came away thinking that there's a vast difference between "Theodore Rex" and our current "George Wrecks," who so desperately wants to emulate him. At least we know what the "W" stands for.
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K takes off again for two weeks of work and travel, so it'll be me and the pets for an extended period starting Wednesday. I'm trying to find some time to take in a couple of movie's this week (got the Gang coming up this weekend!), work (TWO freelance gigs on top of the regular work), my niece's birthday on Sunday, and hopefully a couple of job interviews. Fingers X'd.
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Now, say with me, please, this little phrase "You shouldn't change picture-lock two hours before you ship." Repeat, please. "You shouldn't change picture-lock two hours before you ship." And that goes for double if your audio guy has just done a complicated sound design and mix that taking four seconds in four different places is going to screw UP!

I'm just sayin' is all...
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And thanks to Jon over at "Independence Days" and "Life with Jon" for the nice props (and the new link...it payed off because I got a couple of new readers jumped over from there). I didn't mention in my comment that another reason he should continue his blog is because I'd miss reading it if he did!
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Gasoline is $2.39 a gallon at my referenced gas station. That's a precipitous drop of 20 cents a gallon. While oil is currently at $54.01 a barrel, levelling off a bit after it's dip to $50.00 a couple weeks ago. Last night I splurged and bought the 89 Octane flavor. The car's a bit happier this morning, what with some pampering, some new unbegrimed parts and a couple of spa days at Burien Toyota (cost the same as a spa, anyway). They treated me and my car well. No complaints. Maybe I'll even wash it and scrape the crust from the underbelly. It's been through a lot this Winter.
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Medical Update: My divited digit is almost whole. A couple more days of band-aids and I'll see how the new skin holds up.

Olde Review, Part III - "The Godfather"

Part 1
Part 2

When last we left, we were discussing Coppola's editing, specifically during moments of suspense and violence. Up ahead there be more style, some sound, and...spoilers, so if you haven't seen this film and want to with some element of surprise, be warned. I have not fixed any errors (and there are far too many! *sob*) and the film professor's comments are in RED

(The Woltz bedroom scene) is the last sequence of its kind in the film, for although Coppola doesn't hedge on the rest of the comparable bloodshed, the rest of the violent scenes are done differently. In the Woltz sequence, Coppola slowly "fades in" to the gore, but once it has been shown, "cuts out" rapidly with a series of quick cuts. But, for the rest of the film he leads into the bloodshed with shows of rapid-fire editing. There is an aesthetic reason for this in that Woltz slowly discovers that bleeding head, whereas the rest of the violence happens all too quickly. Good. The people who are afflicted realize only at the last moment what is going to happen to them. For example: the Don buys fruit; we see approaching feet; then, the film cuts back to the Don, who begins to run; back again to the feet, which pick up speed; cut to an overhead shot as the thugs those feet belong to, fire on the Don; another scene is inserted of Fredo getting out of the car, fumbling with his gun; cut back to the overhead shot as the thugs fire and flee. The whole thing takes eighteen seconds. When Sonny is shot up, when Appolonia is killed in the car explosion, and, in an even more extreme example, during the baptism-murder sequence, when Coppola shows a detailed record of a baptism, and shows five intricate gangland killings from start to finish, rapid editing is used. But Coppola doesn't even need the horrifying images he uses in these sequences to create tension. When Michael is at the hospital, fearing an attack on his recuperating father, he hears footsteps echoing through the halls. Coppola, through a series of shots of the sterile hospital corridor and different-angled shots of its angled staircase, creates great tension in the viewer, which is relieved, finally, when it is found that it is Enzo, the baker, merely trying to visit the Don. For the aware viewer, Coppola gives suspense by showing minute reactions of the characters, as when Sollozzo notices Sonny's interest in the heroin racket whenthe Don meets with him, and also, during Luca Brasi's fatal meeting eith, again, Sollozzo,as the "Turk" looks beyond the mass of Luca Brasi, just before Brasi is strangled by an unseen attacker behind his back.

There is a lot of good cinema in "The Godfather," more than could be touched on in a paper of this length. Personally, I feel it's an excellent film, and there are many parts of it, that I haven't mentioned, that I truly love: when Michael stands beside his father's bed in the hospital, guarding him, pledging, "I'm with you now" with the Don's reply consisting of his labored breath, saddened smile, and a small tear running from his eye; the talk in the garden between Michael and the newly-retired Don, with Mafia strategy in between talk of family and the Don's rememberances and his regret-filled "I never meant this for you" ; and , of course, the scene of the Don's death while playing with his grandson, a scene of playful joy and mirth, and of peaceful termination. These are exceptional moments in the film that move me every time I see them. But my favorite scene, curiously, is at the end of the film, as Kay, now Michael's wife, prepares a drink for them after he has allowed her, just once, to ask him about his business. She is in the foreground of the shot, he is in the background, inside his office, framed in the doorway. As she looks on, Clemenza, Hagen, and Michael's bodyguard enter the door-frame. Coppola cuts to a closer view of that doorway as Clemenza kisses Michael's hand in the manner due to a Godfather, and respectfully calls him "Don Corleone." The music on the soundtrack swells, and as Hagen, in the same manner, kisses Michael's hand, the bodyguard moves towards the door. Coppola then cuts to a view from inside the room, looking out at Kay, as she looks worriedly at the camera. The blackness of the closing door moves across the frame and closes, cutting off the music, and Kay, leaving her separated and apart.* It is a melancholy scene: full of personal triumph and personal tragedy. As such, it reflects the film.

Ok. And much more than ok ----easily the best paper handed in. There is some very sensitive writing here, obviously preceded by even more sensitive observation. You make me want to see G1 again.


And that last line is the biggest compliment any person who writes about movies can get, especially considering the professor wasn't too keen on "The Godfather." As it was, later in the year, Coppola released his follow up, "The Godfather, Part II" and Jameson's review of it was laudatory, scattering many images from Part II throughout his "Moments Out of Time" series for that year.


Richard Jameson writes about movies for the Queen Anne News, MSN and Film Comment magazine, which he edited for many years. You owe it to yourself to seek out his reviews.


Me, I write about movies on this lousy blog...

Oh. I got a 4.0 for the class.


* Which links it with other outsiders left behind blackened doors, like in "The Searchers."

But, there was more. There were scenes filmed (to be inserted after the Don's shooting) of Mama Corleone hearing the news and stoically going to church to light candles for the Don's soul (there's a photo of it in the bi-fold of the soundtrack album).

At the end of "The Godfather" a scene of Kay lighting candles in a completely blackened church (for Michael's soul) was to run over the credits (and was used, interestingly enough, at the end of NBC's broadcast of "The Godfather Saga" that combined Parts I and II in chronological order. indicating that Kay was still lighting candles for him after their violent break-up...seems odd).

It's at least as interesting to wonder why it wasn't used...maybe it was too soon after the events of the ending to go to another scene of Kay...maybe because it was an indication that Kay is resigned to her husband's life, which wouldn't do...maybe they just wanted to leave it on an ambiguous note, which sounds like Coppola--after all he did that in "The Conversation," "Apocalypse Now"...but not "Godfather III," where the issue of Michael's soul is of such high importance. Anyway, the Kay scene is an "Extra" on "The Godfather DVD."

Olde review, Part II - "The Godfather"

Part 1-Background, Foreground, and the Overview
When last we left, we were discussing Coppola's visual style. Up ahead there be more style, some sound, and...spoilers, so if you haven't seen this film and want to with some element of surprise, be warned. I have not fixed any errors (and there are far too many! *sob*) and the film professor's comments are in RED

(Coppola's) conversations, of which there are many in the film to explain away the plot's complexities, are also done simply: Coppola shoots over the shoulders of the two partcipants, and cuts back and forth between them, with maybe a shot of another participant, edited in, as whern Coppola cuts to Tom Hagen when Sollozzo compliments him on his fact-finding, as he negotiates with the Don about his heroin deal, or when Captain McCluskey is shown, because he is a threat to Michael, in the Michael-Sollozzo negotiation, where the young Corleone has been sent to kill. Coppola runs against a problem, though, when an exchange of looks and words are required between the Don, Sonny and Sollozzo, when Sonny interrupts the discussion (Sonny: "Ah, you tellin' me the Tattaglias guarantee our investment?" The Don: "Wait a minute...") something that would require rather messy and complicated editing. Instead to keep things consistent, Coppola has Marlon Brando change his position in relation to Sollozzo and Sonny so that he sits between the two, in order that, now, the two shots include one of Sollozzo and one of the Don with Sonny behind him. Not only was some possible sloppiness stopped, bu Brando and James Caan were able to play off each other more effectively.
Coppola's treatment of the story is also straightforward: he just shows the important facts and lays them out one-by-one in their proper sequence, and only a coiple of times does he fiddle around with time, besides the essential squeezing of a decade into three hours. Once, at the exact middle of the film, coppola presents the war between the Five Families in an 85 second montage. Overlaid by a rinky-tink piano accompaniment, Coppola overlaps and fades in and out on newspaper articles about the various murders, and headlines of McCluskey's involvement with the Mob (michael suggested that Hagen tell the reporters on the Mob payroll to play up the story, in order to soften Family retribution), of pictures of slain mobsters with policemen (who are seen smiling over the bodies, in some of them), of Tessio reading a paper next to an arsenal-filled table, of Clemenza shacking up in a bared rom, of the fellow playing the piano, while, in the background, a table full of men pass around a large bowl of spaghetti, and of the spaghetti being spooned out into a garbage can. This whole montage is sandwiched in-between Michael's killing of Sollozzo and McCluskey and of the Don's return home from the hospital. It is an essential part of the film, and Coppola's filming the war in this way insures not only that that part of the story is told, but also, that it is told economically, time-wise. The other instance of Coppola playing with time is seen soon after the Woltz incident has been finished, and the Don, Sonny and Hagen hold a small briefing before their initial meeting with Sollozzo. Hagen explains certain aspects of the Sollozzo character: his preference for the knife as a weapon, of his narcotics business and any other useful information. As Hagen ticks off these facts, Coppola shoots forward in time and cuts to a placement shot of the extreior of the Don's office building, with Sollozzo waiting out on the side-walk, then cuts to Sollozzo climbing up the stairs to the actual meeting. Coppola then shifts back in time as the Don asks for opinions which Hagen expreesses like a businessman ("Narcotics is the thing of the future"). while Sonny expresses it simply: "There's a lotta money in that white powdah...So, what's your decision gonna be, Pop?" Coppola then cuts forward again to the meeting with Sollozzo. This action not only saves viewing time, and keeps the film from getting stagnant by remaining for too long on a single scene, especially one which is mostly talk, as this one is, but, also, identifies Sollozzo by placing him on the screen, while Hagen describes him on the soundtrack.
Coppola engages in many ironies in this film, concentrating specifically on the contrasts of innocence and guilt in the Mafia lifestyle and the joy and sadness that these people face in their lives. The whole wedding sequence is just such an irony: while the ritual of a wedding, something steeped in the glorification of innocence (the emphasis on white, for example) goes on outside, in the sunlight, the Don is inside the house, in his office's darkness (broken by the venetian blind that reflects the Don's mood, such that, it is almost close when he berates Bonasera, but it is fully open when he sees Johnny Fontaine arrive at the wedding, and yes, I know Fritz Lang did it before and it's a good idea!) makes illegal deals. Coppola has one pair of shots, the first of which has Kay and Michael Christmas-shopping, while some properly idyllic snow falls around them and the song "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" booms over the New York shops. This contrasts deliciously with the next shot: Luca Brasi preparing for his meeting with Sollozzo, putting on a flak vest, and loading his revolver while the same damn song churns out over his radio. Of course, then there is the baptism-murder sequence where Coppola cuts between a baptism, a ritual for cleansing sin, while out in the city, all sorts of sins are being committed by the new Godfather. Coppola, in this sequence, goes as far as to match two of the shots with the same motion: a priest's arm swings from an urn of ashes to place some on a baby's chin, then in the next shot, a barber's arm swings from a lather dispenser to the cheek of one of Mike's gunmen. Clemenza, in one part of the film, teaches Mike how to cook spaghetti for a large group, then, a little later, he teaches him how to kill Sollozzo and McCluckey. When Carlo is beating his wife, Connie, over the soundtrack is heard hysterical crying, hers, which blends in with a baby crying in Mama Corleone's arms at the don'd home, where she is trying to calm the kid and also, an hysterical Connie on the phone. After the Don has shown undertaker Bonasera Sonny's bullet-ridden body, Coppola cuts from the Don silently grieving for his son, to the sound of Michael's Sicilian wife, Appolonia, laughing with delight as Michael tries to teach her how to drive. In one sequence, he cuts from michael's heavily-chaperoned, pre-marriage romance to Sonny's heavily-guarded (well, it's almost the same thing) tryst back home in New York. Coppola also cuts from Michael and Appolonia's wedding night to the girl Michael left behind, Kay, as she arrives at the Corleone house to try to contact him. These little touches of Coppola's tend to provide an added jolt to the audience, while it waits patiently for the next garrotting, or provide the many touches of black humor that he inserts into this film.
One of the best things about "The Godfather" is its use of sound, that, like the ironic cutting back and forth between two situations, enhances the film. It is these scenes, with their subliminal, audio trickery, that, personally, catch my attention. One of my favorite scenes in Welles' "Citizen Kane" is the picnic-tent fight between C.F.Kane and Susan, where the song "It Can't be Love" is sung and the frenzied screams of a woman outside coment on and enhance the confrontation inside. The only thing that interested me in Friedkin's "The Exorcist" was the liberal use of modern "concrete" music for the sounds of the natural world. There are .many minor uses of auditory trickery in "The Godfather," such as one of those ubiquitous babies crying when the Don slaps Johnny Fontaine around, or when the Don is shot down in the street. Of course, there's the previously mentioned "Have Yourself a merry little Christmas" as Brasi prepares for his Sollozzo meeting, and , as he walks through the office building to that meeting, a heavily-echoed, ominous-sounding whistling goes on through the halls. As Tom Hagen is kidnapped by Sollozzo, "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," ("Gonna find out who's naughty and nice") plays over a speaker. The sound of thunder magically appears as Captain McCluskey and his police enter the scene, outside the hospital, where Mike is guarding his stricken father. In the sequence at the toll plaza, before Sonny's death there, a bell rings once the toll is paid. After Sonny has been throughly mavhine-gunned to death, and his killers drive off, Coppola edits in several scenes of the aftermath, with nothing but the wind on the soundtrack, until a single shard of glass, which we never see, falls and makes a sound, just like the toll bell, saying, in effect, "Yes, the toll has been paid."
Nice.
One of the most effective scenes of this type is the one of Michael as he enters the deserted hospital to visit his father. In the distance, echoing through the hall, there is something low repeating over and over. When Michael gets nearer to the source, it becomes clearer and he and the audience hears what it is: a record of some singer that has become stuck and keeps repeating the same word-"tonight...tonight...tonight..." Its effect is absolutely eerie: it is a kind of supernatural warning and threat, and it gives Michael the fear that someone will kill his father, as the record says, tonight. This thing with the repeating record has all the earmarks of a man named Walter Murch. Murch has worked on most of the films coming out of Coppola's American Zoetrope Company and his work is, by now, identifiable. He engineered, with George Lucas, those wierd "sound montages" in Lucas' "THX-1138" which contributed so greatly to the mood of that film, especially the way in which human voices were distorted until they were so mechanical-sounding, it was hard to say if they had ever been human. He worked on Coppola's "The Conversation," where he did such things as turn the sound of a television program and muffled conversation from the next room into a paranoid audio nightmare. Also, in this film, he made the inconspicuous whirr of an elevator into a gigantic roar as Gene Hackman shares it with the "marked" Cindy Williams. Murch's work on Lucas' "American Graffiti," in my opinion, topped all of his previous work when he filled the Southern California air with reverberating "boss sounds" from the myriad cruising automobiles' radioes. The high-point of his work in that film was when he took the sounds of the night--a passing train, screeching brakes, a police squawk box, the sounds of a stationary and a moving radio, whose music approach, coincide and break-off--that made Richard Dreyfuss' crawl to attach the steel cable to the rear axle of Officer Holstein's squad car, such a nerve wracking ordeal to live through. Murch applies some typical technique in the sequence when Michael meets with Sollozzo and McCluskey. On the drive out to the restaurant-meeting place where they are to confer, Murch inserts two of his audio comments: the first when as McCluskey searches Michael for hidden weapons ("I guess I'm getting too old for my job, too grouchy," he says, referring to the hospital incident when he broke Michael's jaw. "Just can't stand the aggravation." And inreply to this hollow explanation, Coppola and Murch insert a passing car horn that sounds like a horse laugh); the second, when the car passes over the bridge to New Jersey, and Michael begins to fear that the meeting will not be held in the required place for the set-up to kill Sollozzo. This moment of fear is expressed when the car passes over a grating and the sound it emits resembles a heavenly choir or the shrieks emitted from Kubrick's monolith in "2001." More noticeable than these are the two "moments of truth." that Michael has before the two killings. Clemenza has told him to come out of the restaurant bathroom, shooting, and as Michael prepares to exit the bathroom, the sound of a truck comes through the wall,* like a roaring in his ears, as the fateful moment arrives. But he waits, and as he talks again to Sollozzo, the sound of another roaring truck grows on the soundtrack, but this time, it is followed by the squal of air brakes. That squeal is like a signal that triggers Michael to do what he must, and he stands and kills Sollozzo and McCluskey.
Coppola not only uses Walter Murch's ideas to create suspense, but uses many of his own. The first of these occurs in the Jack Woltz episode, when Woltz awakens to find the head of his prized race horse inside his bed for a warning. Coppola begins the sequence with a pleasant shot of Woltz's mansion, at sunrise. On the soundtrack, only the chirping of crickets is heard, then, as the first set-up fades into a shot of the mansion, the camera, rising, to the right. The sound of "The Godfather teme," that sad, funereal, horn music that started the film, echoes over the scene, only now its a little faster. That rightward moving shot fades into a leftward-moving shot, still rising, zigzagging over the mansion and its opulence, until it centers on some grillwork on the side of the house. This fades to a shot overlooking the grillwork into Woltz's bedroom, and the camera approaches Woltz's sleeping form. Now the music becomes almost pixieish as piccolos pick up the tune. The camera pulls alongside the bed, as Woltz stirs, and we see,for the first time, that there is blood on his covers. The msuic now becomes more complicated as different instruments play the tune at different speeds, and at different times until it becomes dizzying. Woltz is now hurriedly unravelling his covers, more and more blood showing up, until the head, itself, is uncovered and the music abruptly stops. On Woltz's first scream, Coppola shock-cuts to a view of the grisly-head holds on it for the second scream, then, as Woltz screams again and again, on each scream, Coppola cuts farther away. Back to the shot looking into the room over the grillwork, back to the grill on the side of the house,, and back to the placement shot, which fades to the aforementioned "signature" shot of the Don's face. Coppola takes us in, and shows us out the same way, but in deference to our feelings, takes us out faster than we went in.

Tomorrow: We reach some conclusions....finally...and they will, no doubt, be punctuated, by far too many comma's, probably!

* It's actually an elevated train.

Olde Review, Part 1 - "The Godfather"

"So, why'd I get an 'incomplete?'"
I was standing in the office of Richard T. Jameson. I had taken a film class from him, and written what I thought was a pretty good final paper on "The Godfather." But in looking at the posted grades on the bulletin board I saw that I had been given an "incomplete."

"So, why'd I get an 'incomplete?'"
Jameson surmised me cooly. "I think you know why..."
I gave him a look. "Uh...no-o, I don't."
He looked at me. "You bought that paper, didn't you?"
"What?!!"
"C'mon! You bought it from a mill. This thing reads like Pauline Kael!"
(It should be noted that Jameson didn't like Pauline Kael)
"Honestly, I wrote it myself!"
"Well, how'd you get the quotes right?"
"I taped it off NBC!"
"Okay. How'd you get the camera angles?"
"When I hear the audio track, I can remember what the visuals are..." "Oh....okay. Sorry. Given that, maybe you did write it, after all."
Here's what I wrote, warts and all, painful though that proved to be to recreate. Richard Jameson's comments are in RED.

"The Godfather" begins with a black screen, behind which a single horn wails out a series of rising and falling notes, evoking a feeling of desperate sadness, as if some tragedy were taking place. The music would be appropriate for a funeral. And with that in mind, the first sentance is spoken in the film: "I believe in America." the man who says this, Bonasera, an Italian immigrant, has a daughter who has been ravaged and beaten by a pair of American toughs. He does not go to Don Vito Corleone, the Godfather, who gives assistance when it is asked, because, as the Don, himself, says, "You found paradise in America, you had a good trade, made a good living, the police protected you and there were courts of law. You didn't need a friend like me." But the police and courts have failed Bonasera and sent the thugs free. For him, Justice and America have not worked. "She was a beatiful girl," says Bonasera of his beaten daughter. "Now she will never be beautiful again." Socan be said of his view of America. The Don, himself, says, later in the film, "I refused to be a fool dancing on a string held by those big-shots. I don't apologize, that's my life." So it is with so many of the characters in "The Godfather." If something does not go to their liking, they cross the criminal line and go to the darker side of America, represented by director Francis Ford Coppola, in the first few minutes of the film, by the blackness of the Don's office.

Good. However, the blackness is also associated, it seems, with an Old World sense of honor, of self sustained by the family and The Family. Of course this does not contradict what you have said--merely enlarges on it. (Darkness in the cinema is worthy of a whole book in which to discuss it.)

Coppola begins the movie proper focused on a single person, the bitter Bonasera. Then, as he goes along, he expands the viewers' view of the world he has set up, of the people, and the world of crime they inhabit. Coppola's camera pulls back (expanding our view even then)from Bonasera until the Godfather is seen, brings an unseen eavesdropper into this personal conversation when an arm enters the frame offering a comforting glass of wine. Then Coppola shows us more--the entire room, and in it, the Don's sons. After the Bonasera incident, he cuts to a wedding party outside in the sun, contrasting nicely with the office darkness. After the wedding sequence, Coppola moves from New York to Los Angeles to show how the Corleone business strategy works, and then, later shows the others of the five Mafia "families" and how they operate. Hetakes us through slowly, and expands the film throughout, until, towards the end, the strategies involved in the story take on the complexities of a World War II battle plan.

"The Godfather," which Coppola, and maybe a quarter of the people who say did (?), adapted from Mario Puzo's trashy novel, runs in a circular pattern: a master circle in which smaller circles of lives and deaths, favors and rewards, and war tactics intersect. Favors are given out and paid back (Bonasera is revenged, then repays by trying to make Sonny's bullet-ridden body less hideous; the Don helps Enzo, the baker's assistant, stay in America, then, by chance, Enzo helps Michael pull off his hospital ruse to protect the Don from "hit" men; Johnny Fontaine gets his motion picture part, then helps attract other stars for the Corleone's Las Vegas business), traitors conspire and are paid back (Tessio arranges to kill Michael and is, himself, killed; Paulie Gatto, the Don's chauffeur, is "sick" when the Don is gunned down, and Sonny has has him killed in a field of reeds, overlooked by the Statue of Liberty; Carlo sets up Sonny's murder, and Michael has him killed, as well as Moe Green, Barzini and the other "Family" heads). The film is separated into three main sections: the wedding, Tom Hagen's bsusiness with Jack Woltz, and, finally, the war between the "Families." Throughout these stands the main story of "The Godfather:" the metamorphosis of Michael Corleone from a young man who rejects his family't way of life to becoming, himself, Don of the Corleone Family. His reign as Godfather and his father's reign before him are two circles that overlap, so that the film begins with Vito Corleone running the show, moves into a point where the father and son rule together, the father teaching the son, and ends with Michael's first "roar," as it were, as he systematically kills his business rivals, while he overlooks his nephew's baptism, becoming a Godfather, both literally and in Mafia tradition. He has replaced his father. The circle is complete.* And yet, it continues. During Vito Corleone's death scene, Michael's oldest boy, Anthony, who is just a toddler, childishly picks up a water can and with a machine-gun-like "AH-ah-ah-ah" sprays his stricken grandfather with it. As the original Godfather dies, another, still a child, is being "born," who will replace Michael. It's a chilling moment in the film, one that seems to confirm the suspicion that these people are locked into their fates, soon after they are born.

What with so many Paramount fingers in the pie, "The Godfather" cannot really be called an auteur film. Puzo contributed to the screenplay, as did Robert Towne, supposedly, and there are a few auditory touches that belong unmistakably to the film's "Post Production Consultant," Walter Murch. But still, there are so many consistencies in style throughout the film that one can tell that it is mostly Coppola's work. For example, Coppola, when shifting scenes, will set up a single placement shot of, say, Jack Wolz's(sic) mansion or some obscure office building in New York and then cut to what is going on inside. The movie takes place in the late 40's and early 50's and Coppola has strewn old posters on walls (defaced posters of presidential candidate, Tom Dewey, an avid mob fighter, can be seen as he beats up his brother-in-law, Carlo) and vintage automobiles on the streets to provide some period recognition, but also, to evoke the time, he has used 1940's-style movie techniques and set-ups, so that there are no zoom shots, high-on-the-roof-top-vantage-point-shots, split-screens, or slow motion violence, things that have popped up during the last eighteen years.And he uses fades! (Remember them?) More important, he uses them effectively as in the Woltz section, after Woltz has been rudely awakened by a severed horse head bleeding on him, Coppola shows a placement shot of Woltz's mansion, where it has taken place and then fades to the Godfather's face which is tilted in such a manner that he is looking up a Woltz's bedroom. That fade is like a signature for the deed. Another example of this is when the Godfather lies recupearting at home, and Coppola fades to Michael, hiding out in Sicily. You know what the ailing Don is thinking about: his son.** In another instance, when Tom Hagen is walking through Woltz's studio, another director might have shot from a studio roof as he amkes his way along the alleys and studios. But Coppola shoots at street level for these shots, one from the side, and one from the back. Then, when Hagen enters a studio, the camera is elevated up in the studio rafters, just the sort of fancy shot you'd expect in such a studio.

This seems a bit far-fetched as rationale for the shot. ***

* It should be pointed out this was written in 1974, three years before another "circle is now complete" movie-"Star Wars" and just before the premiere of "The Godfather, Part II"

** Murch provides an auditory compliment to those fades. Woltz's screams echo over the dissolve onto the Don's face, disappearing only at the next cut. On the shot of the Don in his hospital bed, before the shot fades, Murch inserts a distant church bell--a church bell that is actually tolling in that scene in Sicily. Echoes and the thoughts that follow them...

*** And it is. You'll find that Jameson's comments are cogent, thoughtful and helpful beyond just the obvious re-direction that he could have written. If you've never read any of his film-criticism, you're missing a body of scholarship that goes far beyond the simple snarky reportage you'd find in your local newspaper. Jameson capital "L" Loves movies, and he especially loves movies that reflect life in an artful way, and shines a light into the corners of life that don't see the light of day. On every film-lovers book-shelf there should be a library of his writing on Ford, Hawks and Welles. At the very least, there should be a published book of his (and Kathleen Murphy's) "Moments Out of Time" series that points out moments of brilliance no matter where in that year's films.

Tomorrow: More of Coppola's shooting set-ups...and set-ups of shootings.

Spike It!

This I Believe edited by Jay Allison and Dan Griedman

A great book that came at just the right time, "This I Believe" was sent to me right before Christmas by Dan T, who works for author Jay Allison at Island Public Radio in Massachusettes. It's autographed by Allison with the quick reminder "Keep Listening," which is always the idea.

It's a terrific collection--a sort of "Chicken Soup for the Soul," except written by real people...not publishers. So the essays are speciific, more pointed. Here is a list of links to some of my favorite essays from the volume. I was going to write out highlights, but it's better to lead you to the essays in full...and you have the advantage (in most cases) of being able to hear the authors read their essays. Enjoy:
William O. Douglas:
Martha Graham:
Victor Hanson:
Robert Heinlein:
Penn Jillette:
Errol Morris:
Thomas Mann:
Colleen Shaddox:
Deirdre Sullivan:

But my favorite essay is Andrew Sullivan's examination of "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness."

Next: I take a break by reading what a college room-mate called "a popsicle: there's nothing there but you might learn something useful from it." My popsicles are John D. MacDonald's "Travis McGee" mysteries. The current color being "The Deep Blue Good-By," written in 1964, which makes it the first McGee book. Not sure how I'd missed it before, but then I've missed reading a bunch of colors in the series (Once I settled down to a volume and around page 10 encountered a phrase that told me I'd read that book before....)

Why MacDonald? Why McGee? Because he's smart and tough and never less than entertaining. Plus, he's the man from whom I read one of my favorite sayings, from his book co-written by Dan Rowan, "A Friendship:" The opposite of love is not hate--they're just different sides of the same coin. The opposite of love is indifference." And wiser words were never spoken.

Then , I'll tackle the sequel to one of my favorite books of all time: "The Science Fiction Hall of Fame." The one I'm tackling is Volume IIA: Novellas, Edited by Ben Bova.

Dick Sprang's Art Eraser...and other things

I've been noticing this thing every time I drive to the water-front, and every time I have the same thought: "That's Dick Sprang's Art Eraser."(photo by Paul Joseph Brown-The Seattle P-I)

What else would it be?

So, to explain (Dick would be putting a big black ? over your head right now if you don't know) Dick Sprang was a comic book artist who drew "Batman" during the so-called "Golden Age of Comic Books." They were a less realistic, less gritty time, but they sure were fun. Sprang drew "Batman" with an impossibly chiseled chin, The Joker with a smile that literally split his face, and used german-expressionist angles for many of his panels...and the most relevant piece of information...he was always staging fights (no doubt written by "Batman" scribe Bill Finger) in places that had out-sized giant props...which could be used as handy weapons. I remember one story that was set in some Gotham museum with an exhibit that was a tribute to sports and Batman bowled over the criminals with a huge bowling ball! Here's a four-panel of Sprang's artwork in black and white. *

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So, I dropped by the UW today for a job interview, and it was strange. I went there in the 70's and the path I walked today hasn't changed much since my college days. It felt a bit like going back in time. The buildings (at least the ones I saw) are exactly the same. The paths are still there, and the squirrels. The women are still gorgeous, but curiously uninteresting this time. Hmmm. What is that, I wonder? Wisdom, maybe? If so, it's not much fun. And there are the vagabonds--the barely there wanderers who amble along, who like they have no job and no means. They were there in the 70's, too. I always wondered why near the University. Attracted by the young, I thought. Suddenly, I realized they were probably my age. Maybe younger.

I had to go to Kane Hall, which is a large red brick behemoth of a structure that houses three (or four?)* huge auditoria. I'm sure there's a Kane it's named for, but I've always associated it with Charles Foster Kane, who also liked big halls. The largest one is Theodore Roethke Auditorium, which is huge. When I dream of large theaters, it's always Roethke Auditorium, only it's usually ten times larger. Anyway, the interview went well, I guess. I'm overqualified for some of it. Not so qualified for others. I can do it. But it's still free-lance, and I'm looking for something more day-to-day. After the interview, I went up to one of my favorite U-Dub location--the observatory. Nestled among a thatch of trees with a parking lot on one side and the campus entrance on the other, I walked up to the fading brick building bleached white. A woman was walking up to the entrance, and was probably wondering what the old student with the books was doing there. I told her this was my favorite building when I was going to school there. "I just wanted to see if it was still here, " I said. "Still here. And just as beautiful." "Sure is..." I said, and ambled away. She had looked like she didn't want me to come in.

There was another hour and a half on my parking sticker, so I left to go downtown. I went to the LCS and the Post Office Box. Then I stopped by one of the studios I used to work for and gossiped with them a bit. They had ended up working on a project I almost got roped *urk* into before Christmas. And it was the horror story I was afraid it was going to be. Everybody's off to Sundance for the parties and the skiing. No free-lance for me there. Probably because I have it other places. Then I headed for El Rancho Uno-Dos, where there was plenty of work to do. Long day today. Friday might be easier.

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Today, the price for a barrel of crude oil dropped $1.76, ending at $50.48

The lowest price for gas locally was $2.55 per gallon/regular,*** a drop of .04.

As I recall, when the price was going up, the price at a filling station could change as many as 3 times a day, or more.

"Market forces," they say through clenched teeth.

* Maybe it's the Internet, but in an unsuccessful attempt to find a panel of Dick Sprang's over-sized props, I found that if you type "Dick Sprang" into any search engine...you get a lot of pornography.

** actually, six now....

*** You can find it for less, but with an additional fee, unless you pay cash.

Review-"The Fountain"

Tapping a Dry Well

First off, this is the best-sounding film I've heard from 2006, with a subtle, supple sound design that makes great use of the stereo field to direct your attention. Secondly, it's one of the most beautiful--a truly different looking set-bound "green-screen" film that doesn't go for vast (and busy) pixilated papier-mache-feeling vistas ala "Sky Captain" or "The Lord of the Rings." There is a perpetually claustrophobic feel to it, despite the exotic locales that extend from an ancient Mayan temple to "the vast reaches of space."
And yet....one expects great things of a Darren Aronofsky film--not just in the images, but also in the ideas. Both "Pi" and "Requiem for a Dream" were visually and thoughtfully stunning, so one wanders into "The Fountain" expecting to be transported to new places, not only visually and aurally, but within the mind as well.
That's why I found "The Fountain" very disappointing. Though trying to say something profound, it offers up an idea so obvious that it occurs to me only every time I sit down for a meal, and that is: Out of Death comes Life. To make its point, there are three time-lines in the film--the first takes place in the present day as a researcher named Tom studies treatments of brain tumors in a frenzied race to save his wife Izzy's life. He is so bent on finding a cure that he loses all the precious moments he could be sharing with her. She is writing a fanciful book of a Spanish explorer named Tomas (wait, wait...don't get too far ahead yet. I mean, you're right. it's that obvious, but bear with me for a couple more sentences) who invades a Mayan tribe trying to find a fountain of youth (which is actually the sap of a specific tree) for his doomed queen Isobel--the story's a sort of parallel-o-gram to the researcher to wake up and see what he's missing. The next time-line features an older Tom, beneficiary of his research that has found the secret of long life (which involves the bark of a certain South American tree), in space-transit to restore his wife...from a tree... by means of the energy of a star (Xibulba) that figured in the Mayan legend of the explorer...well, everything relates--all the elements fall back on themselves in a self-referential heap.* All the Tom's of the film (portrayed by Hugh Jackman) are after Eternal Life in some form or another for their Queens...but mostly for themselves, while the Isabel/Isobel's (played by Rachel Weisz) know they will never achieve it. It takes him a near-eternity to learn that life is an eternal process (only not individually!) and that death is a necessary ingredient for it. The only original idea in the film is to state that to aspire to immortality is, rather than overcoming death, to deny the process of life and renewal. The idea should be profound, but it comes across as simplistic...and obvious. And dramatically inert. The tag-line for the film is "What If You Could Live Forever?" and the answer appears to be "Then You'd be a Selfish Bastard!"
Still, there is a sense of relief in, for once, seeing a film where death is the inevitable conclusion and you don't start whispering "So DIE already!" underneath your breath (curiously, part of the gorgeous sound-design has the film saying it for you...though not those exact words...frequently through the movie), but it did plant the seed of Elton John's "The Circle of Life" in my head for days for which it must be held accountable. And needless to say, "The Fountain" won't be at the top of the NetFlix list for the Schindler household.

The Fountain" will lose any visual splendor on the small-screen. Make it the cheapest of matinee's.

*"The Fountain" had a troubled production history. Millions of dollars were wasted in the first attempt at it (when it starred *shudder* Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett...hmmm, now, they're in "Babel"). One can only wonder if, when re-started with half its original budget, whole sections of the screen-story that might have given it depth, were ash-canned (I haven't read Aronofsky's graphic novel, which ala Neil Gaiman's "Signal to Noise" might be closer to his original vision) which is a pity. But I don't know. Aronofsky was supposedly inspired to attempt this film by "The Matrix," which is just one more thing that overrated geek-flick needs to answer for.

Movie Review-"The Queen"

"Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl, but she doesn't have a lot to say"
Sir Paul McCartney

And another Beatles quote might be appropriate here, as well. George Harrison's horrified appraisal of Beatlemania: "We gave them an excuse to go mad." Surely that's how the Royals must have felt seeing the outpouring of grief generated by the death of former Princess Diana over the week that this smart bitchy little film covers. The tone and volume of the crowds that surrounded Buckingham Palace, fueled by the predatory tabloids, approached hysteria and went well past the accepted levels of decorum practiced by its inhabitants. Flying the flag at half-mast for Diana? They hadn't even done it for the death of the King! The idea! There's a telling line QEII says in bewilderment: "But she isn't even an H.R.H.!"--a lovely combination of formality and informality within the Royal Family. But the film has its own opening quote, from Shakespeare--the one half-mocked by Jack Nicholson in "The Departed"--"Uneasy lies the head...etc, etc." But, in this day and age it can be asked, "Who wears the crown?"

Is it the Queen, cosseted in formal procedure and pomp, restricted in her powers and budgeted by the government (the first scene of the movie has an arch little discussion between her and a portrait artist regarding democracy and the in-coming Labor party of Tony Blair. "You might not be allowed to vote, ma'am,* but it is your government." "Yes...it is," she replies, smiling at the constancy)? Is it the fledgling Prime Minister Tony Blair who must bow and scrape to the Queen, but who uses whatever power he has to influence her actions? Is it Blair's eager-beaver, though cynical, staff, micro-managing and creating press-releases and agendas that sometimes frustrate, while bolstering the image of, the new PM? The Queen's consort, Prince Phillip, blusters about what is proper and how he'd do things (assuming he was in charge), and son Charles, dithering and defferential (there's a lovely moment as Charles enters a room where James Cromwell, playing Phillip--pointedly crosses his arms without even acknowledging that he knows his son is in the room), tries to sway the Queen emotionally and by proxies. Or is it the rabble with their devastated faces and the endless supply of flowers that becomes a memorial and a substitute for any public display from official sources?

Then there is the late Princess herself, seen only in vintage news footage, at times clowning, at times vulnerable...and at times, with a look like she's viewing the proceeding with a knowing satisfaction.

One wonders how the Royals themseleves would see this film**...no doubt, as an affront to be taken in stoic, stony silence. Yet, one can understand their actions, and even have some sympathy for their dilemma, while also wanting to shake some sense into them.

"The Queen" is a fine, gossipy movie, with a literate script***(whether any of the things depicted behind closed draw-bridges is anyone's guess) by Peter Morgan--he also wrote last year's "The Last King of Scotland.", top-of-the-line performances led by Helen Mirren (who has the canny knowledge to know she's playing two roles: Elizabeth and an eerie "Elizabeth-as-Monarch," and, yes, she'll win the Oscar for Best Actress) and a direction by Stephen Frears that's smart and canny. The last shot is the most telling. Frears leaves us with an image of the Queen walking in her immaculate formal garden--her unruly Pomeranian dogs jumping and bouncing and using the facilities while Elizabeth pays no mind to the chaos.

Long Live the Queen.

"The Queen" is a fine, blue-haired matinee movie.

* And make sure you pronounce that correctly. We're told that it is "Ma'am" as in "ham," not as in "harm." One of the conceits of the film is to show the "accepted" ways to present oneself to the Queen--always a prescribed way, no more and no less--surely a main reason for the atrophy the Windsors displayed in not responding to the public's reaction.

**I read somewhere in the Golden Globes coverage this morning that the Queen told Mirren "someone finally got (playing her) right."

***There's a funny scene where Blair, flush with his efforts to influence the situation starts to push for his own agenda. Elizabeth will have none of it, and warns her PM not to be too complacent for his crisis will come when he least expects it. It took every ounce of restraint to keep from yelling "Yo, Blair!" at the screen.

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The cost of a barrel of oil today is $51.33--still dropping

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Post-script 02/07/07: Slate has quite an informative interview with director Stephen Frears

"Why is Your Mind Always in the Gutter?"

Trapper: "I don't know, Frank. Maybe 'cause my body's usually there"

One of my favorite lines from the old "M*A*S*H" show.*

Which is a lead-in to K and my Mis-Adventures-On-Ice Sunday. Friday, we both drove in with no problems. K drove up the drive-way and got stuck half-way up. I chose to stay on the street--easy choice since only one car can go up our drive-way at a time. Saturday, I drove up to town to mail some letters that needed to get there on-time (and with today being MLK Day there's no mail service), and had no problems. I needed to be consistent on the accelerator, but I made it, and I made it back down.

So Sunday, we figured "Hey! No problem!" We had a full slate of chores to do. K into town to get gas and supplies; me to the bank and to do laundry in Langley. "If we could do it yesterday, we can do it today" was the thought. So, bright and early with the sun out and shining on the streets, we headed out. K waited for me to lead the way, and though I wasn't warmed up yet, I headed up the street. So much of the ice has melted that the majority of the street is bare concrete, but on those sections where the sun don't shine, it's still slick pack-ice. I got a good head of steam up and headed for "Dead-Man's Curve" which, through the combination of being perpetually in shadow and having a precipitous grade, has been a hazard for every car that hits it, including the huge John Deere snow-plow that ended up in the ditch during our last Arctic Blast ('06).

Half-way up I got in trouble, the tires sped up and got no traction, I started to slip back and worse, my car started to spin. I adjusted, like they don't teach you in driver's ed. (because it's supposedly instinctual--actually in Seattle, abandoning your car is instinctual, but we won't go there today) and righted the car so it was pointing in the same way it was heading, all the better to watch the cliff to the beach that I was about to shoot over. As I was sliding down the street, I saw K heading my way (Ulp! was my reaction), so I cranked the wheel to the right to avoid her, and when I straightened the wheel the car kept moving to the right.

WHUMP!

I ended up in the ditch on the right side of the road. I'd been there before in '96 when K and I and K's mother and the cat were stranded at the cabin for Christmas. Back then, a couple of neighbors saw me and pulled me out...but this...this happened during the Seahawks game against Da Bears. So, I knew I was on my own. In fact, it probably wsn't even wise to call a tow-truck during the Seahawks game. K putted up the street, and once she'd left, I started putting my chains on the front tires. I put one chain on the driver's side (no problem) and tried to get out. I had a nice little drive down 3/4 of the ditch but I was still stuck. Next step was to get into the ditch and put the chain on the ditch-wheel, which I didn't want to do because (and I realized a couple minutes into the process) there was a danger of the car falling further into the ditch and crushing me. But I did. Slipping on the ice and my handy-dandy Les Schwab plasticized instruction sheet I managed to get the chain loosely on the passenger-wheel. I met Jerry, my neighbor down the street, who came by and kibbitzed (Yes, he did offer to help), and then I was ready to try it. I didn't have much ditch to travel and at the end of it was a mail-box, so I had to get out before the end.

I did. But I think it was because the grade of the ditch changed towards the end of it, letting me hump over it and avoid the mail-box.

And then the passenger-chain fell off.

But I got out. I took the chain off, and re-parked my car in its previous place. I'll try to do laundry today. Hey, the temp's going to sky-rocket to the mid-30's (plus I'll use my chains). Once I get to the Old Cliff Road it'll be a breeze. K's back to work for the next couple days. I'm off today for MLK Day.
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Back to "M*A*S*H." I was watching Season 2 last night and the thought struck me that if Frank Burns, with his prissy/horny/thin-skinned bully/shallow-macho/boneheaded sanctimoniousness got a talk-show, wouldn't it play a lot like "The O'Reilly Factor?"

I'm just sayin'...

















* My favorite line is:
Frank: How come every time I come in here it SMELLS?!"
Hawkeye: "I think that says it all, Frank..."

Walaka Really Gives a Shirt

The week ended up with my finishing up duties at El Rancho Uno-Dos (much more involved than past weeks), braving the bridge-traffic of I-90 (scene of the snow-bound disaster which if you believed the radio reports on Wednesday rivalled the Donner Party), and having dinner with Walaka, Otis, and Dingo before they set off for Friday's Crest Guest movie--I begged off the film needing to pick up the dog from the sitter's, and seeing K safely home from a week in T-town.

It was nice to get out and see people after being sequestered in the cabin all week. While not to the point of eating my shoes, it was nice to get out and see people not associated with work and babble and eat Thai food and crunch through the snow. Noting my "Cinerama"* ball-cap (with the Christmas-gifted light-bud for walking-safety), Walaka disappeared into the loft and produced and handed over a nearly-new "Cinerama" T--the perfect accessory. I still didn't go to the movie, but Walaka really gives a shirt when it comes to his friends.

For the first time in a few days the Island Drive was not neck-cramp-inducing (though I did spin out once), retrieved the Smokester, and I actually made it all the way to our drive-way, in which the K-car was stuck half-way up. Nice to be home. As is too typical these days, I fell asleep on the couch, the cat asleep on my chest.

* The Cinerama is where I first saw my beloved "2001" the first few times (it played more than a year) and the last movie I saw there-"Casino Royale."
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Another Keith Olbermann commentary that finishes with a repetition of the changing reasoning behind the decision to invade Iraq.


I still remember the shifting reasons for the first Gulf War that ended when some Bush I hack blurted out: "Bottom Line? Jobs!" to the stunned silence of the reporters at the briefing. The impression I've been getting lately is that more and more Neo-con rats are jumping ship and only the most brain-damaged (or those with the closest ties to the oil companies--like the oil tanker SS Condoleeza Rice) are sticking to their empty guns. The nation has become so numbed by the constantly shifting sands for undertaking this mess that folks aren't taking it to the streets because they know protesting will do no good. So, they voted for a change in government. And it seems to have done no good. But there will come a straw that breaks the people's collective back. There will be some penultimate blunder from the Shifty-Eyed Moron from Austin to make folks rise up. I hope that the very least that will come out of this is a general smartening-up of the voting public--of Americans who don't abandon their principles the way a Seattleite abandons his car at the first sign of a snow-flake. That, if we can't avoid voting a frat-boy into the White House, we, at least, don't vote for the guy who all he ever did was volunteer to get the keg.


For those of you keeping track the cost of a barrel of oil stands at $52.99.

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And this was the best comic I've read this week, the past two weeks, and probably the best I've read in the last few months.

All-Star Superman #6 by Morrison, and Quitely

This entire series has been quite a lot of fun with some great story-telling, fine art and reminds one of just how good this stuff can be.

Funny. I was walking the dog the other day and a stray thought hit me -- why hadn't anyone done a series called "The Labors of Superman?" And it's mentioned here...in this comic.
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The best lines in a comic this week are from "JLA CLassified" 31. Howard Chaykin writes a showdown of Batman and Aquaman with the terrorist behind the plot. Batman goes for in for the kill (emphases are Chaykin's).

Batman: ...you murdering moral cripple. Where do these rich psycho bastards get these ideas?
Aquaman: You ask me, it's all just hubris. And anyway, aren't you a rich psycho bastard yourself, Batman? I mean that in a good way, of course.