"In Review"

"It's over...let it go." Second line from "That was the Week That Was"

Best of times, worst of times. Great things happened this week, and I dropped into the pits of despair. But not in that order and that's called hope. After dreading the coming of the week and a couple of days running on empty, enough ice broke in my life that I was able to move forward and Thursday was a fine, fine day. Friday, who knows? But I'm looking forward to it and the weekend, and that is half the battle. Thanks to everyone who wrote and called and shared your lives this week--you all pulled me out of The Pit. I'll take it the rest of the way now.
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So gas is up to $3 a gallon in Cullyfornyah (the state that actually had a pilot program for an electric car) and it's $2.55 at the First Mainland Stop, and up $2.70 (okay, $2.69.9, but who's counting?). The price of oil? EOD Thursday it was $61.64 for a barrel of sweet crude. It's only been a month and a half since prices plunged to $50 a barrel (with naively gleeful predictions of falling gasoline prices that never really materialized). Though the barrel-cost is nowhere near the level it was when we were getting $3.00 per gallon gas prices the price is inching up. Why? Heating oil costs are mentioned, as the East Coast endures a staggering winter--my sister-in-law in Michigan says it got to 9° yesterday, yet their vicinity to Detroit keeps their gas prices in the low levels around $2.00. On the West Coast--where temperatures are moderate, but the oil-refinery plants are in perpetual-false-crisis mode the price of a gallon of gas rocketed 20¢ in a day, the hardest hit states being California and Hawaii (where the price of everything is high). The oil companies perpetuate the myth of "market forces" driving the prices, but that's a lie that even an idiot like me can see through. In their little chess-game we're all pawns being rooked.

But eventually, their lies will become truth. "Market forces" will come into play, as they have before. As their gasoline prices rise to the $3.00 mark, it will only encourage the spread of bio-diesel, dropping its price to competitive levels, and the oil companies will be forced to operate in an environment where they're not the only game in town. That's the trouble with being a monopoly. Like oil, it just can't last.

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Non-compos-mentis: This week I was sitting in Les Schwab (Patron Saint of Good Corporate Practices and Free Beef--I got there at 7:30am, only to find that they open at 8:00...but they let me in anyway, with a smile), awaiting the diagnosis for the grinding sound emanating from my tires (bad brakes--getting 'em fixed Friday at 2) when a new-story announcing that two "lucky dogs" won the "Mega-Millions" Lottery pot of $350 brazillian dollars, and one of the youngsters sitting in the waiting room looked over at his pal in baggy-pants and gold chain and said, "Dude! WE shoulda bought some tickets!"

Lost business opportunity: Should have told them to give me the money. Same outcome, dude!

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Other reasons to feel old, and not:

I had lunch with my God-daughters' father on Monday and we commiserated about life at 40 (I didn't have the heart to mention 50), and work and job-prospects and the mutually acquainted and how life has that funny habit of rolling over in its sleep and pinning you down...but I got to see pictures. MSC, the GD, is a tall, winnowy 13-year old knock-out that seemed ages away from that warm, buzzing, sleeping thing I held in my arms the day she was born. What miracles they are! But then, the same can be said for each and every one of us...despite "market forces."

Shock #2: I make the dreaded call to see what's up with a project I was lined up for, and instead of the expected machine, I get...the daughter. Little Ellie. The baby who crawled around control-room floors and who'd bump her head against my hand (because I'd placed it between her head and the too-close glass table-top) and look up at me with knowing eyes and an amused smile, is eleven and talking to me (And probably not taking my message, and undoubtedly creeped out that this old guy is talking about her as a baby). I've held her in her babihood, too. To them it's a lifetime. To me, it just happened--a vivid memory, a miracle.

A picture of my father just whooshed by on the slide show on my computer desk-top. He had a phrase, delivered with a half-smile and a low voice, and after far-too-many of these little miracles had become an everyday occurence: "Sure piles up." ("John!" my mom would admonish)

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Meeting Martin (been too long) after Schwabbing this afternoon. He's got some "Battlestar Galactica" tapes for me, which I'll probably pass on to Walaka and Otis if they have a desire. The day is getting busy now.

Sure piles up.

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K is taking another trip! Now that her work-duties are over-over, she's relaxing and taking a trip...with a difference. Everyone who knows K knows she's a globe-trotter. Together, we've gone to Edinburgh, Spain and Vienna. But in her day she's been to all places European, Japan, South America, India. All exotic trips. So, she announces where she's going....Las Vegas.

The Last Place on Earth I'd expect her to go.

But (as she explained it) her desire is to go someplace "easy," where it's not a culture-war to get an aspririn, where she can relax (Vegas is a place for men to gamble, but now it's a place that supplies cheap entertainment...and spas...to keep the rest of the family occupied, as well. Damned smart, then grifters), go to the spas, see a couple of shows, have $3.99 prime rib meals (well, it was when I was there 15 years ago) and relax.

Can Disneyland be far behind?

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Marvel Comics ("The House of Ideas") announced that Captain America will pull a FerroLad/Superman/Hal Jordan/RobinII/JeanGrey/SueDibney and die in the next issue. My reaction? SFW? And "who gets the shield?" I'm not buying it. Not even if Steranko draws it.

It kinda shows just how desperate Marvel has become that they think they can keep recycling and expect anybody...besides the mainstream media, that is...to get excited about it. But then, Marvel has always been about promotion, rather than content...the very image of then own Galactus. Sigh. It is only funny-books, after all.

It was fun to hear Marvel-head Joe Quesada trip over the word "inevitability" in an interview, though. Geez, Joe. Don't strain yourself. Keep the syllable-count down.

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Must be off. Things to do. People to meet. One review to write. Take care, and have a great weekend.

Song in me head: "Straighten up (and Fly Right)"

The Worst...The Best

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Crude Oil Prices close today at $60.07 per barrel, yet the price of a gallon of gas (regular) jumped 20 cents at one of my ear-mark gas stations to $2.69.

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Song in me head: Did You See Jackie Robinson Hit That Ball?

Song I'm whistling: I Go to Pieces (Peter and Gordon version--lyrics by Del Shannon)

Keeping Cool on a Road-Trip

Or, How We Managed to Cross the United States Without Blowing a Gasket.

The mission? To rescue Johnson..from Texas.

Well, not exactly. Johnson was in Texas, alright, spending the summer with his family, but as he was attending classes at the fabulous Washington State University ("Go, Cougs'!"), he needed to get from A) Dallas-Ft. Worth to B) Pullman, Washington (Home of WAZZU) by the time classes started in the fall.

He could have flown, but he didn't want to fly. Too expensive.

He could have driven himself and that would have been o-kay, but he'd have driven half-way across the country by himself and that didn't sound like much fun.

No. An elegant solution for getting Johnson home from Point A to Point B, keeping the costs down and the fun and frivolity high presented itself in one very simple concept. Two Words.

Road Trip.

And so, in August of 1976, FarmerScott and Yojimbo (as we're now known) took it upon ourselves to recue Johnson by travelling half-way across the country (and back again) in the most round-about way possible, seeing friends and sights along the way, and as much of that as possible while still getting Johnson to school by fall term (FarmerScott's comments are in green type-face, mine are the usual dullish-grey).

Elaborate plans were made. We would be travelling in FarmerScott's truck--a sturdy blue beast with a nice camper arrangement that fit very nicely in the bed to provide shelter and protection over the course of the trip. Our roundabout route took us down the west coast to Los Angeles and Disneyland (in Anaheim) where we would stay a couple nights at our buddy Joel's apartment on Sepulveda. Then we'd cross the desert to Las Vegas, Hoover Dam, the Grand Canyon and on to Texas.

We'd stay a couple days in Texas, whisk Johnson away, drive up through Oklahoma, and gradually make our way north by way of Yellowstone National Park, up to South Dakota and Mt. Rushmore, through the Badlands, Montana and to the WAZZU campus...at which point, Johnson hits the ejector seat...and FarmerScott and I return to Seattle.

A fairly complex scenario--lots of of pins on the map--but we were young, ambitious and there was a lot of roads we hadn't seen yet. It was a great trip with lots of stories to tell (and we do manage to tell a couple of them).

But the subject today is Scott's truck and the act of desperation it engendered.

Blue and bulky, Scott's truck with the removable shell made a comfy home away from home, even with a 6ft. 4 inch Johnson inhabiting it (which is a punch-line if ever I've heard it).

But Scott's truck had a problem. It wasn't a problem, really, in rainy Seattle. But it had an eccentricity under the hood. It's radiator was one size too small for the gross weight of the truck. Again, not a problem in Seattle where the weather was more wet and temperate than that experienced by the rest of the country. But by the time we got out of Oregon and began our trek through California, it became a big factor in our travels. We were travelling in August, so the truck would, of course, get hot. But once we were in California, the radiator would overheat. In fact, it would boil over. We'd have to get water and constantly refill the radiator, then before getting too far, we'd have to stop again.

At the Universal Studios Tour, "Bruce" the Shark from "Jaws" kind of just hangs out at the lake by the Bates Motel from "Psycho."

Always Faithful at Yellowstone National Park

In California, we spent a few days with Joel, had a fun long day visiting Disneyland (staying until Officer Goofy threw us out), Universal Tours and the dregs of society that habituated Hollywood. I remember while Joel was attending classes at UCLA, hanging out at the vast UCLA library and being shocked to see Professor Kingsfield...er, John Houseman strolling the aisles. Then, we tackled Death Valley. But as it was a hot day, we didn't travel too far before we had to stop and fill the radiator and let it cool down. It was in the high 90's and we had to stop more than once. We were about to cross a hundred miles of desert, and the worse that could have happened would be for us to be stranded in the middle of it with no water.

We decided on a new game-plan: we'd sleep for the rest of the day and then drive by night in an attempt to cross the desert without a stop. So, we pulled into the parking lot of a gas station off in the shade (like it mattered in that heat) and slept in the back. Now, this was a 90° day. Imagine sleeping in a metal shell that acted very much like an easy-bake oven. It had to have been 110 degrees in there. In fact, it was so hot, I don't think we got much sleep. But we got enough, so that when the blistering sun went down, we headed out, crossing the desert in the middle of the night.

FarmerScott standing heroically on the very edge of the Grand Canyon.

Somebody feed this child a burger!

We drove through Vegas at night (the best way to see it! Especially for the first time! Seeing the glow in the sky from miles away in the desert was spectacular), drove over Hoover Dam (which, given my fear of heights was preferable) and skirted the Army missile range, where we watched the oddly mesmerizing flashes just over the foothills, and reflexively stepped on the accelerator to get way, way past them. We took turns driving and sleeping though I don't think FarmerScott got much sleep with me singing at the top of my lungs to keep myself awake. Here's a couple of photographs from our first night at Grand Canyon National Park,* one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen--the canyon at sunset. lightning illuminating, from within, the dark clouds across the way. It was a dramatic show that just struck me dumb.

"Magic Hour" at the Grand Canyon

Well, I'm not getting to the point of the story. When we got to Texas, it was hot..and humid. Indoors A/C's constantly ran, and outdoors sweat ran consistently the moment you walked out the door. I was fond of saying you couldn't breathe in Texas--you had to cut a piece of air and gnaw on it for awhile. But it didn't seem to matter in a place where a significant percentage of restaurants had sawdust floors. Still it wasn't all that welcoming to truck-driving with a smallish radiator.

What to do? Back in the day, folks used to hang bags of water in front of their radiators. The airflow through the bags as it moved forward would provide additional cooling and prevent steam blow-outs. For any over-heated radiators in the 1940's anyway. Research into finding anything like that while we were on the road in the disco-70's wasn't producing any results even in the reddest of red states. (Where was Al Gore and his Internets when you need it) (Tennesee, probably. But only Bob Dole calls it "Internets")We would have had an easier time of it finding button-shoes. So there we were: an overheating truck, a hot August and half a country to drive. We were sweating it (but in the Texas humidity, who'd notice?)

An overcast day at Mt. Rushmore

Johnson and FamerScott check out all the hot-spots at Yellowstone National Park

We set out for Washington State (in Washington State) by way of Yellowstone with one eye towards the thermometer outside and the other on the temp gauge inside the truck. As long as temperatures didn't reach a certain level we'd be fine to drive during the day, but once temperatures got in the 90's we were sunk. We made it to Yellowstone with no problems and experienced a dramatic temperature change camping in the Park. As we tramped around Yellowstone, avoiding the sulphurous mud-pots and gazing at geysers, the temperature was a balmy 80°. We slept in the camper and overnight the temperature dropped below freezing, our breath frosting up the insides. Rain and clouds kept us going into South Dakota and a visit to Mt. Rushmore, but by the time we hit the Badlands the temperature hit 90 and we had to do something. You’ve got the map a little skewed here. We went due north through Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, a quick trip across the Mississippi River (to be as far east as possible on that trip) to Soiux City, Iowa (finding a $20 bill on the sidewalk and seeing Logan’s Run--In Ft. Worth we visited a water-garden where they'd filmed the finale), then the Badlands in South Dakota (too cheap to pay to drive through them, being a National Park, we stopped by the side of the road and climbed up a hill to see into the park and it’s pink striped landscape). After that we turned left to Mt. Rushmore and on to Yellowstone.

So, we improvised. If we couldn't have those nifty radiator bags we had to find a way to get cool water to the radiator. A trip to the hardware store in I’m pretty sure it was Kansas. The outside temperature was low enough until then that we weren’t overheating too much provided us with two squeeze-bottles, a considerable length of plastic tubing and duct tape. It was plastic tubing – I had it in my toolbox for years after we got home. We emptied out the bottles and fastened the tubes to the outside of the truck and to the front of the hood with the duct tape. We then snaked the tubes through the wind-windows in the cab. We had a substantial water cooler to keep our steady diet of pop frosty, thanks to a constantly replenished supply of cubed ice. As the radiator got hotter, we would fill the squeeze-bottles--one on the driver-side and one on the passenger-side--with ice-water from the cooler. Then as the gauge creeped into the red, we'd squirt, sending a pressurized stream of cold water into the radiator.

Damn, if it didn't work, and like a charm. Within moments of spraying, the truck's temperature would fall, guaranteeing us a few more miles of daylight driving. The problem was that it was kind of messy. We had to fill 2 small bottles from a gallon jug while driving in an old truck with old springs. It kept us going across the Badlands (to the mysterious and oasis-seeming establishment of Wall Drug) and on through Montana, Idaho and, finally, to Pullman, Washington to the Home of the Cougars and Alma Mater of Edward R. Murrow, Washington State University. And we did it with a couple days to spare. That was approximately the time we stayed. Then we made our way home, never again needing to turn to our improvised cooling system.

That's our story. We're sticking to it.

FarmerScott's truck with the tubes trailing under the hood.

What's your story? Did you have a vacation crisis that led to inspiration?

Share, share.

Thanks to Bobby Z for the shot of the mythical water-bags!

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* What's funny is I didn't know until just recently that the Grand Canyon was created by the Great Flood and it's only 5,000 years OLD! Thanks to the scholars at the Bush Administration for making it official. Here's a report.

The Winter of Our Discontent

Poor K was the one doing the snow-commute yesterday, while I stayed at home and watched the "inch of drift" accumulate at our Rusty Cabin. Today she's resting comfortably and I'm at the Ranch, after the Epic Move That Displaced Everybody and Everything. Relatively painless to come in, though the first couple of miles were pretty icey-dicey. Passed a couple high-schoolers who'd ended up off the road and in the ditch--ended up (Not to worry, I was not being a bad samaritan passing them by--they were being pulled out by a buddy with truck and chain). However there was evidence that they were swooping from one lane to the next to see how icey it was and...chose poorly.

Woke up in a foul mood today, not only because of the weather, but also due to the job situation. I'm going to have to make a couple of "uncomfortable" phone calls--but only because promised calls and updates have not been forthcoming. Guess they're phone calls no one is eager to make. I find that very depressing, along with this last inconvenient gasp of winter, and am finding it very difficult to turn my frown upside down. I guess loyalty in the marketplace is so valuable because it's so rare. Why should it be different than anything else?

What can help me out of my mood? Old friends.
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Johnson--he of the heart attack/stroke/pre-Xmas heart surgery/rapid recovery--is scheduled to go back to work today. Take it easy, buddy.

FarmerScott called this morning for a check-up, which is always welcome. He had six to eight inches of snow at the House of Hydrangeas, and we chatted about lots of things including a joint-effort of a post that will be appearing sooner than later. His phone-call helped lighten my mood a lot.

The father of my god-child is in town this week. There'll be time for a sit-down and catch-up for both of us Friday. I don't think she's in college (yet), but it can't be too far off (I still have all the magazines and best-selling books and CD's from the day she was born for a time capsule for her).

Got a nice note from Wendle "from the studio days" as I had sent her a note on her birthday (Her hubby alerted me to the fact--that's a good husband, Eric) and though we're on separate islands it's like a bit of the time and distance were erased a bit.
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Movie Review - "Babel" or "The 'Crash' Heard 'Round the World"

A nice little movie that no one has ever heard of is John Sayles' "City of Hope" made in 1991--it presents a limited space in time in the life of Philadelphia where the decisions of every character over the disposition of a single city block affects every other character in a way that negates any sense that lives can escape the self-imposed limits inflicted by others (and placed on themselves).* Everyone is trapped and without any hope. Paul Haggis, when he copied the form in "Crash" offered the same bleakness but leavened it with individual rays of hope. One can look at these movies and quibble about coincidences and manipulation, but speaking as someone who's lived in one city and worked, basically, in one field for most of his life, those aspects of rubbing too many shoulders has never seemed like much of a stretch. It's pretty amazing how a large city can become a "small town" fairly quickly and without irony.

"Babel," though (named after the tower in the bible-story that created so many ESL programs), takes it one planet further. From its opening image of a Moroccan hunter trudging the desert to its last shot of a man holding a naked woman on a Japanese balcony, every single life is intertwined in a way that makes one wince, and actually creates dread over the next revelation of inter-connectedness (there's one character, whose absence sets in motion an unfortunate series of events, that we never see--supposedly she'll be in "Babel II"). It's a bit of a stretch, lessened somewhat by the global investigation of a mistaken act of terrorism. Nothing brings the world together like Homeland Security.

Still, if one can overlook The Big Skein that hangs over the movie like a shroud, the individual segments are involving, dramatically impeccable and present worlds that are never less than intriguingly realized. One wonders throughout where the stories will lead, even if the answer on an occasion or two is nowhere.
To reveal too much would be robbing the movie of any freshness it possesses, but suffice it to say that lack of communication is a key in all of them and that they are resolved (when they're resolved) by a recommitment to family (except when they're not). It's a bit messy in that regard. What world isn't?
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Movie Review - "The Heart of the Game" Some folks I used to work with did the post-sound (and scratch narrations) for this extraordinary documentary about six years in the life of the Roosevelt Girls' Basketball Team. I've been hearing about it forever, but I've finally gotten a chance to see it now that's its out on DVD, and its every bit as good as the hype--one of those stories that you'd dismiss out-of-hand in a work of fiction, but grounded in the reality of a video'd image makes one's heart swell with pride at the same time it's pumping just a little faster. Seek it out. Make time for it. It's that good.
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I've updated a couple of the perennials in the blog for those who are new and choose to stay and browse.

Check out Personal Heroes-Chuck Jones and Personal Heroes: Stanley Kubrick. For Chas. I've added a cartoon that had previously been available, then, due to the exigencies of YouTube, disappeared--the brilliant "One Froggy Evening" and, along with it, some enterprising computer-imaging student's attempt to render it in 3-D--it's actually quite good. And to add to the embarassment of riches I've been able to add that ultimate deconstruction of the cartoon-form "Duck Amuck" (Dare I say that almost makes my little appreciation of Jones fairly comprehensive?) And for Mr. Kubrick, there is the rapturous opening to the documentary "Stanley Kubrick: A Life in Pictures"--as dizzying a summing up of the man as has been attempted. All valuable additions--I just hope they stick around for awhile.
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Gas prices zipped up about 20¢ at my local gas stations (which tend to be on the low side) $2.58 and a whopping $2.65 per gallon, regular. Is this a reaction to heating oil prices or a gut-response to the snow--after all there was a run on gasoline last time, which led to higher prices. Except this time...I didn't hear of anybody losing power, thus needing gasoline.

Oops. Their mistake. But the price probably still won't creep down anytime soon.

Price of a barrel of oil? $61.75. Last time we did this it was $60.07. Hmmm.
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Song in me head: "It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas" (Believe it or not!)

* I suppose we all have "Grand Hotel" to thank for this genre--the self-contained universe--the "goldfish-bowl" movie, with stars and without. I'm sure you have lots of examples in your favorite movies, like "Smoke" or even last year's "Bobby."

Oh, no, no. Thank YOUUUU!!

Alright, the stars are off the streets and right where they should be...at home recovering from massive hang-overs and self-congratulatory overdoses.

I've now been asked a couple times "what I think." And this was my VERY snarky (but slightly edited) reply Monday morning, after looking at a list of the winners. Oh! And I've changed the font-color since they went "green." "Hollywood" goes "green." I'll believe it when Vegas goes "green."

As I have no cable and no desire for such, I didn't/couldn't watch it.

I thought the Best Sounding Film of last year was "The Fountain." It looked nice, too. But despite that it was one of the worst movies I saw/heard last year. What won? "Letters from...?" I'd have personally given it to the same guys for "Flags..." but hey...six of one....

The Abigail Breslin nomination is a joke when you think of the kid from "Pan's Labyrinth." Or even Dakota Fanning for "Charlotte's Web." Jennifer Hudson was a fine choice for just stopping the show in "Dreamgirls." Someone should have. Cate Blanchett can't win Best Supporting every year.

I LIKE the fact that Alan Arkin won ("it IS brain surgery!"*)...finally. I mean, how many times can you be the Best Thing in a movie and not get something? I'd have been happier to see Marky-Mark win for what was a really GREAT performance against all odds amongst a group that SHOULD have acted rings around him. He and Alec Baldwin were the best things about "The Departed." And as I said in my review, Scorsese acknowledged the fact by giving a one-on-one between the two of them some fancy-schmancy inspired Scorsese camera moves (The only thing I can compare it to was Darren McGavin's terrific (and uncredited) role in "The Natural"--every actor in the room is making 20-100 times what he's making, but he waltzes in and acts like he owns the place. I'm not a Mark Wahlberg fan, but he was terrific). I'd like to see "Little Children" because I like the director, and want to see Jackie Earle Haley's performance.

"The Departed" is just not that good a film, hands down. It's derivative (doubly so as "Infernal Affairs" was inspired by Scorsese movies), but Scorsese has to get his Lifetime Achievement Award for SOMEthing. I'd have been happy with "The Queen" which is wickedly well-done, or "Letters from..." (except it that should have been "Flags of Our Fathers").

For the script, "Children of Men" should have won over "The Departed" (although it had some zinging good dialogue), for the sheer deconstruction and re-build that Cuaron made of it. "Borat" being nominated was a joke.

The Academy has long exhibited that they are tone-deaf. They did so again last night, giving "Babel" the award for score. Santoalalla (he won last year for writing 15 minutes of guitar music for "Brokeback Mountain") demonstrated that he could ape world music, but that's Composition 101 for any composer. It should have been Alexandre Desplat for "The Queen" or better still Javier (something or other) for "Pan's Labyrinth" which was inspired from opening note to final fade.

Jack went bald as a plea to Britney Spears for a date, I think.

There was no line about "This broadcast's gone on so long Congress wants to withhold funding?" I think Ellen DeGeneres is terrific.

Other than that, I have no opinion at all.

I get to vote on the Emmy's within a couple of months. Isn't that ironic?

* In a recording studio in town there is a big T-shirt where Adam Arkin (Alan's kid-who does some voice-over work there) wrote: "It's not brain surgery." Right below it is Alan's reply: "It IS brain surgery!" And ya know, you can hear exactly how Alan would say that...

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar...

Okay, now read that title the way Tony Randall would (in "The Odd Couple") and you have a close approximation of my attitude towards this year's..."contest." That would be a kind of sad, pitying condescendence. I can take that attitude--this year, I don't have any live television to watch the thing (though I suspect that, like last year with Jon Stewart, the show will be a cut above being hosted by Ellen DeGeneres and all--I hope she doesn't dance to "Proud Mary" with Snow White!), so I'll take the snooty approach and say that "it's not a good year."

It actually is. The nominees for Best Picture are a mixed bag: although I didn't like "The Departed" and didn't think "Little Miss Sunshine" deserved a nomination, there's not a real "dog" in the bunch (I say this not having seen "Babel," just going on Jon's assessment). There's also no clear favorite to win. I'd like to see either "The Queen" or "Letters from Iwo Jima" win, even though I'd have preferred to see Eastwood's "Flags of Our Fathers" be the nominee. It will probably be "Babel." Mirren will take Best Actress. Whitaker will take Best Actor (though I'd love to see O'Toole win--finally). Eddie Murphy will take Best Supporting Actor (although--I know--Mark Wahlberg was the stand-out in a great cast at the top of their games in "The Departed") and Jennifer Hudson will take Best Supporting Actress: both Murphy and Hudson for "Dreamgirls"--haven't seen it, but the awards have something to do with dues-paying. Which brings us to Martin Scorsese, who will win Best Director, even though he wasn't this year. That would be Eastwood, or Greengrass, or any of a number of Spanish directors. It'll be a Compensation Award, like James Stewart winning for "The Philadelphia Story," as opposed to "Mr. Smith..." Scorsese should have won for "Raging Bull" or "Goodfellas" or "Taxi Driver" or "Kundun" or "Gangs of New York" or "The Age of Innocence," all very personal masterpieces as opposed to recent showy exercises like "The Aviator" or..."The Departed." Still it's nice that they were able to make room for him this year. He has long deserved it. So has Ennio Morricone, who will get the Lifetime Achievement Award. It doesn't matter what kind of "movie-fan" you are, you've heard a great Morricone score: if you're a snooty film-fan, then he did "Cinema Paradiso" and "The Mission;" action-fans know him for the Leone spaghetti westerns and "The Untouchables;" Sci-Fi fans for "Mission to Mars" and "The Thing;" He does it all, and he does it like no one else. Bravo.

But, having said all that, there's no real reason to watch, and I can't get too exercised about it. The show is at its best when its at its worst. When somebody decides to get all-political, when Cher's costumer goes on a bender (when anybody goes on a bender), when the claws come out. Now, that's an Oscar show! Lately it's all been a little safe and frozen in gilded amber. So I guess my attitude would be "Meh." For a related article on that word, go here.
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The same story from another part of town. AARP magazine has its version of the Oscars only it's called the "Movies for Grownups" awards (for those 50 and older, and face it, you are heading there). Not a bad list, really. Their lists of nominations are quite excellent. Its top honors:
Best movie-"The Last King of Scotland"
Best Actress-Helen Mirren "The Queen"
Best Actor-Donald Sutherland "Aurora Borealis" (never heard of it!)
Best Director-Clint Eastwood The Iwo Jima movies
Best Screenwriter-William Broyles, Jr./Paul Haggis "Flags of Our Fathers"
Best Comedy "Little Miss Sunshine"
Best Foreign Language Film "The Lives of Others"
Best Documentary "51 Birch Street"
Breakaway Accomplishment-Terry Badshaw "Failure to Launch" (WTF?)
Best Intergenerational Movie "Akeelah and the Bee"
Best Grownup Love Story Tom Wilkinson/Blythe Danner "The Last Kiss"
Best Movie Time Capsule "Hollywoodland" (they liked the production design)
Best Movie for Grownups Who Refuse to Be Grownups "Lassie" (with O'Toole and Pete Dinklage, it's worth a look)
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Okay, Okay. One more "Hollywood" post. One fellow who just recently died (and so won't be part of the "Obituary Montage" at the Oscars) is Peter Ellenshaw. In an industry now dominated by CGI for good or ill, Peter Ellenshaw created special effects in the simplest manner possible--he painted them. The more spectacular effects and panoramas in Disney's films in the late 50's-early 60's were due to Ellenshaw's matte paintings. You'd look at them up close and they'd just be daubs and globs of paint, but on a glass-field, photographed by a camera, they glowed with a magical hyper-reality that warmed the heart and "sold" the scene. He was a film-artist in every sense of the word. To read about Ellenshaw and to see more of his work, you can read tributes here and here, and here stands his official web-site. When you speak of Disney "Magic," he was one of the Walt's grand wizards.
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Man-oh-man, it is stormy out here today. Grey skies. White caps. Birds flying backwards. Even the eagles are a little panicky in their flight-paths. Now for future reference, if you ever visit the cabin and are confronted by the dog, bear this in mind: he was a cringing, shaking little ball of fur during the big wind gusts today. Scared-to-death. Big "mean" ol' dog. Nice act.

I think any love affair I might have had with the Island is over. I was over at Walaka's "Flapjack Friday" last night--I had a late start at the Ranch, I was hungry, I'd driven all damned day and I needed company-- at one point he mentioned that he'd applied to a teaching position on the Island and might move here. My reaction was so sharp it surprised even me "Why in the HELL would you do THAT?" Walaka was sitting casually, but that snapped his head back. "Full-time, tenured position?" "Oh, yeah, well, yeah, but if it was just one class of many..." A solid year of commuting on and off the Island has taken its toll: I now think it was a stupid thing to do, to move out here and work way over there. But it didn't simply occur to me--it lept out of my chest like that thing in "Alien." That's why I'm looking for work closer to home.
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I did have a nice time at Walaka's last night. Big crowd. Good eats. "Meh" movie. Good group of actors, some of whom were VERY into their parts and even little cameos by Tippi Hedren and Shirley Jones. Two women directed it but they apparently didn't have any qualms about exploiting Danica McKellar as a trampolining cheerleader (I guess as long as she's not nude, it's not exploitation, huh?) I suspect that this was a "deal" picture where everybody was represented by the same talent agency. I also suspect the film-makers are Kubrick-obsessed*. Half the dialog in the movie consists of "Open the door, Hal!" and at one point "the Kubrick box-set" is equated with Grandmother's sterling-silver candlesticks. Hmmm. Hmmm-sliding into "meh."

But it was good seeing everybody. Glad to see John, however briefly, and although I didn't meet O o-fficially, she acted like we had, which was gratifying. I've read so much of her, I feel like introductions might just be redundant at this point. Some passing swipes of conversation about Ken Nordine--one of my little pockets of "fun with audio" is his "Word-Jazz" concepts. He's an "aging hipster," to use Dr. Evil's phrase, but he's still fun and young at heart, and filled with good ideas. He is 87, and one has to use the phrase, "years young." May we all age so well and imperceptibly.
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Okay. Smokey just ran in and sat beside me, looking at the door. "You need to go out." I said to him. He looked at me and headed for the door. Has to pee! K was asleep (she's still sick!), but he knew what to do. I take back everything I said about him before. Smart dog. Knows just what to do.
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So, yeah, K's still sick. She overdoes the previous day, and, as a result, gets a little more bronchial the next. Got her more juices, more Nyquil, more Airborn, and made her some homemade soup (Oh, yeah, I'm a "miracle-worker" alright--she told me how to make it, and what she needed). It's worrying. Stay in bed longer next time...don't overdo, it doesn't work like that with this one. But she's eating more. That's a good sign.
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So, okay, that's a wrap. Print it. Let's go eat.



*Like I should talk. I've written about Kubrick here, here and here. And there's another in the works. Sheesh!

So Bad it's Good Friday

There's a guy at the Ranch who likes to share stuff. Like the "Robot Bastard" movie from a few weeks back. "Off"-stuff. Wierd stuff. But stuff I find amusing. Sure, it might have the budget of a week's buying of groceries at the P-X, but there's some spark there that makes it worth it. Some knowledge of "yeah, it looks like crap, but we know what we're doing" that brings a smile to the face.

So here's a British series (comedie) that embraces the cliches of really bad-tv, and the egos that don't have a clue they're producing bad-tv. That's all the set-up I'll give you, other than to warn you this is a retrospective of a (*kaff*)70's horror series (that, according to the show's creators--in their DVD like commentary--was "too much ahead-of-its-time to broadcast,") and so, has some "shocking" amounts of badly-realised violence.

I give you "Garth Marenghi's 'DarkPlace.'" *


Oh man, where do I start? Of course, there's a bit of "Ray Bradbury Theater" in there, and "Orson Welles' Great Mysteries," throw in a dash of Stephen King and Clive Barker and amp the ego to "11." "DarkPlace" Hospital looks like one of those cardboard settings in Gerry Anderson's puppet series. Lots of nice little jokes about bad dubbing and out-of-sync dialog...and just BAD BAD BAD writing. Wow. In one of the "interview" segments of the show, they try to compare Garth's "acting style" to that of Emmy Award winner William Shatner, but I see a lot more of Patrick McGoohan there (much as I love "Secret Agent" (or "DangerMan") and "The Prisoner."

This is good stuff. A lot of knowledge went into this. And it's bad. But enjoyably bad. I've seen some of the films of Ed Wood. And I'd watch them fully expecting to be entertained, but I'd always end up feeling annoyed. Even a little angry. Wood didn't make films so bad they were good (as Michael Medved** would have you believe). He made films so bad, they were just...BAD. I've never found incompetence entertaining (which is why I guess I'm not a fan of "American Idol"), so, I've never found Wood's films entertaining in the slightest. The best thing you could say about Ed was...he didn't not know how to use a camera. Is that faint praise enough?

But...I have this sense of...loss. Of...(pause) some-thing left un...done. But....(long interminable pause...is that long enough, yeah, I think so) whatcoulditbee?
Oh! Yeah! I let William Shatner off the hook. Here's Bill doing "Rocket-Man" from the 1978 Sci-Fi Awards Show.*** They broadcast it, unfortunately.

The memory...still haunts.

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K is still sick, so 1) I'm not taking her to "DarkPlace Hospital" and 2) I won't show her the Shatner video. No need making her sicker in either case!

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Crude Oil prices continue to rise--it's at $60.95 a barrel today. Expect a gas-hike in the near-term.

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Song in me head: Still blessedly free of what the Germans call (roughly translated)"ear-worms." Believe me, you don't want to know what the last one was....

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* What you're seeing is Part 1 of Episode 1. If you go to your local YouTube constabulary there are Parts 2 and 3 of Episode 1, a complete Episode 2, a Garth Marenghi movie "War of the Wasps," and a spin-off interview series "Man to Man with Dean Lerner." It's a franchise, people!

**Medved can be co-credited for the re-appreciation of Wood in his book "The Golden Turkey Awards." Thanks for that, Michael.

*** The thing I like about Shatner? He is self-aware. But he charges right over that thar' cliff, anyway, bless him.

How To Succeed in Busyness

K's sick.

That's the most important thing.

K's sick, and she's not getting better.

It started with bronchitis on Thursday, settled on Friday and on Saturday she and niece Kayla walked (nearly) ten miles, got a healthy massage (that turned them Gumby-like) and at that point I met them for dinner at a restaurant that we'd had some good luck with in the past. They had salad and a seafood pasta dish. I opted (adamantly, for some reason) for some french onion soup (which was quite good, actually). Good choice, that.

Saturday evening, the girls conked out about 7:30pm, while I sat and wrote about "Sweet Land." But, both of them began suffering from powerful stomach-cramps and nausea. Kayla left early Sunday to avoid Sunday ferry traffic. Poor K stayed in bed and suffered. Wouldn't eat for fear of feeling worse and her bronchitis came back. Dr. Yojimbo was on call and kept her hydrated, and hovered like a mother-hen ("Do you want..?" "You asked five minutes ago!") Monday seemed better (I stayed home from work and took care of her. President's Day, after all, and I was waiting for marching orders from a different sector). Tuesday, better still. Tuesday night was a night of wrenching coughs that sounded like they were do some mighty lung-rattling. Not good. We cancelled her Wednesday plans and she stayed in bed. I just fixed her some tea and soup. She's spent most of the day in bed. Poor baby.

I hope I don't get it (he said sympathetically). And I've been pounding "Emergen-C" and "Airborne" to avoid it. I don't think I will.

I'm moving too fast for it. The reasons: read on.
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Job-wise things are picking up:

1) The ol' 1's and 0's Ranch: Nearly the end of my contract. Got another "Outstanding" rating from my supervisor and rewarded him by letting him know that my last day would be at the end of March, and (sorry, them's the rules) I couldn't come back until a 3 month hiatus. Neither could the guy whose contract ended the day before mine. Or the guy who was up in May...and that's the entire department. They hadn't looked into hiring new folks to take over our jobs and we'd done a good one of making ourselves indispensible (or at least look like it!). Oops. Anyway, they know now. Started to use the term "Short-Timers" around the office. Few get it. What will I be doing after? Well....

2) There's the "Special Project" that I'm working on, though I'm not working on it as soon as I thought, owing to some political bumps and grinds, me coming on at the eleventh hour. Hey, they asked. I'm happy to help. How and where--that's to be determined.

3) Went to a screening last night at the U-Dub of Honest Abe and Geez Louise's work-in-progress "Searching for No-No Boy"--the story of author James Okada and his non-fiction/fiction book "No-No Boy" which told the story of a Japanese-American draft resister, just returnd from prison, post-WWII in Seattle. It has become a "classic" over the years and Abe has been waltzing around this particular subject for years, first as a feature, and now as a "full-story" documentary. It's at the half-hour phase for school-study, but the plan is to turn into a full-hour for PBS. That should be easy as there's a lot of ground to cover. I'll be doing the sound here at home over the next couple of months in dribs and drabs. If you want to see more of his reportage of Japanese-American history, there's his web-site www.resisters.com which can also tell you about his earlier film (and it's a doozy!) "Conscience and the Constitution." I've gone to a few screenings and each time the audience comes back with amazed questions and outrage that this story is never told. It is now.

4) Had lunch with Malott & Associates and a client about editing for a Math tutorial program that has done so well here that they're now "localizing" it for Britain and India. Lots of recording and lots of editing. I'll be doing a bunch of the latter.

5) The local radio station called. I talk to them Friday about "where I could fit in." I haven't "done" radio for twenty years, but I've been tangentially a part of it the whole time, so I don't think it's much of a stretch. I see it as an opportunity to give to the community. It's such a local radio station (one of the few independently owned left!) and with a little community out-reach and some boosterism it could be quite an asset on the Island. Plus, I can expand on the writing-side. I'm getting the "itch" to write commercials and bits again.

6) Then if any of the resumes and applications "hit," I'm sunk. My dance-card has the potential of getting a little raggedy, but that's fine. Bring it on. I'll take a flood over a drought any day.
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There may be frost on the ground out here in the mornings, but you can tell Spring is coming...earlier than expected.

The black-birds are singing.
The sea-lions are barking at night.
The owls are hoo-hooing, as well.
Haven't seen the hummingbirds in awhile, but I think it's just a matter of time.
And the eagles and crows are a constant all season.
Haven't seen a deer since the night I passed three of them on my way home (last Wednesday). They may be getting more discreet.
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After going up 10¢ last week, the gas prices have settled to stay at $2.49 a regular gallon at my "bench-mark" distributors (which are usually 10-20¢ lower than the rest of the market). The price of a barrel of sweet crude is at $60.07, ten bucks higher than the low point at the beginning of the month of just over $50 a barrel. Gas prices never reflected the large dip in oil prices, and I doubt they ever will. Rigged game. Always was.

On the other hand, there's word that the first bio-diesel fuel pump has gone in at a grocery chain. Supply-and-demand should do some wonders there.
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Song in me head: Nothing comes to mind right now.
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I need to look in on K now.

Movie Review - "Sweet Land"

Let us hope that we are all preceded in this world by a love story.
Don L. Snyder "Of Time and Memory"

This was Valentine's week and the requisite rom-com, "Music and Lyrics," opened on the day to generally luke-warm reviews. I was looking at Roger Ebert's web-site, and reading Jim Emerson's half-hearted 3-star review of "The Fountain" that ends with him saying "but I'd much rather watch somebody shoot for the moon when the stakes are sky-high than sit back while they play it safe" and I thought only a film-reviewer who'd seen too many half-hearted, limp romantic comedies could say that. Myself, I'd rather see a film that succeeds, however humble its aspirations.

So to find a film like Ali Selim's feature debut "Sweet Land" is something of a miracle. It is simple to the point of artlessness and has the genuine tone of a film where the camera is simply turned on and happy accidents allowed to fill the screen. Of course, it was meticulously planned to appear that way (14 years, in fact) but never once does this multi-generational love story tell its oft-told tale of love and struggle in the heartland in a way that feels less than fresh and improvised. Even a descent into Capraland is greeted with something of relief.

There's more to it than this simple outline, but "Sweet Land" tells the story of a Norwegian Bachelor Farmer who sends for a war-bride in the days following World War I. Trouble is, she's German, speaks but a smidgen of English ("Hello" and one useful exclamation of hunger) and has no "papers." Without them, their arranged marriage can't be performed and the two must get along under the watchful eyes of their neighbors, the suspicions of the church and the post-war fear of all things German (One could say it's a film for the times, but given its long gestation period one has to conclude, sheepishly, that its a film of any time). There are the inevitable complications, but ones born of the awkwardness of the situation, vagaries of the time and the realities of the harvest. One comes away with the entirely appropriate feeling that love isn't "star-crossed" and superficial, but very hard work. A refreshingly truthful idea, that. One wants these kids to work it out, despite the odds. Most rom-com's have me wanting them to get it over with.

A good chunk of the film is spoken in scandinavian and german, never needing to stoop to sub-titles, and that is due to the lived-in performances of its two leads, Tim Guinee--explosively self-contained and reticent as the NBF--and the gifted Elizabeth Reaser, so transparent and natural an actress that she could have done the entire movie in german and still communicated every emotion economically and fascinatingly. They say that for a movie to succeed takes a lot of work and some form of miracle and Reaser is this film's miracle. They are supported by many marquee names, John Heard, Ned Beatty, Lois Smith and Alan Cumming, who also produced. Audiences should be grateful to him for championing this powerful little movie of the heart, with its discreet camera work, extraordinary performances and story that transcends time and celebrates place. Released in 2005, but making it to Seattle at the end of 2006, it would have been a shame to see this exquisite movie die on the vine.

"Sweet Land" is a full-price ticket