RON HOWARD MADE ME CRY TONIGHT

Tonight I watched the film "Frost/Nixon". Up until the near end I was actively rooting against the "character" of Richard Nixon (of course, it was based on reality, but for fuck's sake, it's a Ron Howard production). Anyways, if you've seen it, you might remember a scene near the end of the film. I'll set it up to remind you and/or describe it if you have yet to see it:

Richard Nixon exits a suburban, California home, emerging from the darkness of a brutal interview in which he appears as a desperately broken man. From his point of view, the focus of the camera is blurry when pointed at various reporters shouting questions at him. His body exhibiting his age, he pauses, winces as if confused, but regains focus upon the site of a random woman holding a small dog. Nixon asks the woman: "is this what you would call a Dachshund?" She nods yes, Nixon briefly pats the small dog's head, pauses, and moves on, haltingly.

And I weeped harder than I have in fucking years.

Now, Ron Howard is a very capable director, no doubt. And Frank Langella, who played the role of Nixon, was beyond excellent. But neither of them are reasons why I'll site as reasons for making me cry. Allow me to try to explain [pours a shot a whiskey and cracks a beer]:

#1: That scene reminded me why I decided to study film, and why I regret not perusing it since. After completing my studies, many years ago, I literally hated watching films. The constant need to dissect a scene, much like a frog, grew intolerable, and if I'm being honest, made me into a snob. Worse still, it nearly disallowed me to sit back and experience a film as what it was, instead of it's technical or narrative attributes (or lack thereof). In small doses over the past 2 years or so, I've been able to shed the asshole film-student perspective, and enjoy a film or a scene on it's own merits. But I digress...

#2: My best guess as to why a seemingly innocuous scene in a film made me emotional, results from when my father, and his father were both recently in Chicago to attend a wedding. I didn't go (I wasn't invited), but the 3 generations of us were briefly in the same space, a rare occurrence indeed. And from my young-ish perspective, I saw myself in both of them. And in this particular scene I sited...it made me think, that even if you're the biggest asshole on the face of the earth (which Nixon may very well have been at one time), traces of humanity still escape.

I'm not saying that my Father or his are assholes (though they were at times capable of being so) but when the 3 of us men were in the same room recently, I watched my ageing Father attempt to tie the tie of my very aged Grandpa, and struggle, while I, sitting quietly and watching with my right arm in a sling, unable to assist...somehow I just connected that to the scene of "Nixon" petting that Dachshund. Just a quiet, seemingly fleeting moment. My God, how film can sometimes mirror life itself, and more importantly vice versa.

It's fucking remarkable.

LONG LIVE HUNTER

"Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish — a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow — to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested..."

-Hunter S. Thompson

That more or less sums up my perspective on this life of mine. For better or worse, Hunter S. Thompson has always loomed large upon my consciousness, perhaps before I even read "hells Angels" for the first time back in high school, and certainly since.

My Mom once told me about her experience when she heard that JFK had been killed - how that moment held the air still around her, slowly etching the memory into her mind that even today, is no doubt just as fresh.

A similar moment in my life occurred amidst a cold, dreary night on February 20, 2005. Feeling properly loose, I put on some music and checked my e-mail, only to stare back at the screen in shock. Ex-Roomie had sent me the link a CNN article reporting that Hunter had shot himself in the head.

"No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax — This won't hurt."

That excerpt from his suicide note hit still makes my heart skip. At the time, I felt not anger, but rage. Why on earth would someone so in command of his gravity decide to off himself? I cried. Then I did a huge shot of whiskey. Then cried more still.

A vital link to a time seemingly more genuine time than the present had expired - at the business end of a Smith & Wesson (how American).

For days after I was filled with...dread, a feeling I carry with me to this very day in one form or another. Three years later that feeling is less acute, though a sense of duty to carry on his legacy remains.

Which brings me to the documentary that is premiering, appropriately enough, on Independence Day...

"Some may never live, but the crazy never die."

Indeed.

PS - I feel like a kid on the night before Christmas - and NOT because of the looming holiday...more on that at a later date!

LET'S PUT MY FILM DEGREE TO WORK!

So, I've been a bit of movie watching tear as of late. It's probably due in part to the weather (we got 7" or 8" of snow yesterday on the North Side) and having had yesterday off. Two of the three movies I thought were excellent; but let's begin with the flaming pile of shit I watched on Wednesday Night.

I'll be honest. Every so often I put some bullshit on my Netflix queue. While scanning various titles something will pique my interest, however by time it arrives, usually a month or so later, I will have totally forgotten about why I rented the movie.

CUT SLEEVE BOYS

In this case, I apparently decided at some point that I wanted to watch "The First Gay British Chinese Movie". Gawd was this awful. How bad was it? I was thinking of returning it via Fed Ex to get it as far away from me as fast as possible. It might have been worse than anything I have ever seen. And that includes "Overboard".

Still, bad as it was I couldn't turn it off. Five minutes in I realized what a grave mistake I had made, got up intending to turn it off, but it was so bad...I couldn't do it. So I paused it, made a stiff Bacardi & Coke and dug in my heels for what was sure to result in me regretting 2 hours of my life lost watching this shit.

Here's a preview:

What if you're gay buddy called you up one day and said "you know, I'm just not meeting the type of guys that I'm into" and the solution to said problem included becoming a tranny? And then pursuing a relationship with a sorta-hot-ex-Green-Beret who refuses to admit he's gay. Who then decides he's also a tranny and the two boy/girls live happily ever after.

Then there's the other guy. A fading "Go-Go-Boy" who has disowned his family, seems to have but one friend (the sorta-tranny) and apparently decided to blow some Kinda-Hot-Blond-Bloke from the burbs in a train station. The Bloke shows up at his doorstep, but Bitch won't have none of it. By the time Bitch realizes he loves Bloke, Bloke has turned into a gay stripper/meth-head/asshole.

Oh, and the movie starts with their other BFF having died during blowjob/poppers-sniffing induced heart attack in the stall of a bathroom (in a subway). Neither friends seem to give a shit that their BFF is dead, to the point of flirting with the priest during the funeral. This movie makes me want to attend one of those "scared straight" programs in Texas. Better yet, Arkansas.

PARANOID PARK

This one I went to see "in person", as in a proper theater. And it was THE SHIT! My friend didn't like it that much, but I thought it nothing short of brilliant. My enthusiasm likely stems from my technical appreciation of the movie, particularly the editing.

One scene in particular stands out; the main character, who by the way has never acted in a film, dumps his bitchy/diva GF. Her reaction takes places in slow-mo, with no actual audible dialogue. And it's a moment of pure genius. Mixing 8mm film stock with 35mm is also beyond refreshing in this day and age of Hi-Def.

Take a look:

It's basically a "who-done-it" flick, and in this case you know who did it, but you don't know how or why until it's over. Although I watched this movie on Thursday Night, it still lingers in my head. Gus van Sant is one of my favorite directors, and this is his best film in years. Good. Shit.

THE LOOKOUT

As much as I enjoyed Paranoid Park, I liked this one better. [Full disclosure: I've had a crush on Joseph Gordon-Levitt since Third Rock From the Sun, long before I realized which team I play for.] Outside of that, this is a finely written movie, almost the an-thesis of Paranoid Park (which is all about the visual aspect of story telling) with a narrative structure like a mothafuckah.

It begins with a much younger JGL in his glory days when he's a Mustang-Driving-Ice-Hockey-Jock. One fateful night he's driving down a dark country road when, OH FUCK! happens. Head trauma ensues but he lives, albeit in a lessor state. He is however, deemed capable of being a janitor at a local bank...the shady/womanizer/oddly attractive dude enters the picture. He has already decided to rob the bank that JGL works at, but they want him to be...The Lookout:

Does that not look like an awesome movie? I'm here to tell you that it is, indeed, all kinds of awesome. Sweet trailer too; having watched it, it's cool how they start the clip at the "Holy Shit!" part of the film. The rest of it is very entertaining as well...WHOEVER HAS THE MONEY HAS THE POWER!

COME UNDONE

From time to time the Roomie will poke fun at me for watching various French films of the "gay" persuasion. I would protest and claim that I was watching these films for their artistic merits, which is partially true. I enjoy watching foreign film because it allows me a window into another culture, another perspective on the world.

As a former student of film I can critique the editing, writing, cinematography, etc, with at least a modicum of technical prowess. That being said there is just something about watching tan, handsome, French male youths frolicking on the Mediterranean coast in various states of undress (to say nothing of one particular hard core gay sex scene). Hot!

OK, French guys making out, obviously hot. But I get something else out of watching films like "Come Undone". During my formative years when I came of age sexually, I was trapped in the proverbial closet and thus had little to no access or examples of what a gay relationship was like or about.

Of course, living life vicariously through films, even sexy French ones, is a poor excuse for the real thing. That being said, the film below more than held my attention. The third act meanders and makes little to no sense, but then a lot of relationships seem like that (at least the few romantic ones I have lived through) so it rings somewhat "true".

Bottom line, this is a great film, and Jérémie Elkaïm is such a hottie. Think back to the rush you felt during your first crazy bat-shit insane romantic experience. The anticipation, the giddy excitement, the sex, the joy, the sad aftermath, etc. This film is somewhat like that, only with better looking people (myself included) in a more exotic locale (ditto).

Enjoy!

A GUIDE TO RECOGNIZING YOUR SAINTS

After a rough day at work at Monday I returned home and upon checking my mailbox found a DVD from Netflix that I forgot was on my queue. This film, "A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints" was nothing short of enthralling (how's that for an adjective) not to mention a welcome surprise.

Though it's been said to be similar, if not derivative of "Mean Streets", "The Basketball Diaries", "Kids" or any other coming of age narrative films that concern fucked up youth growing up in New York City, I will go on record that this film stands on it's own.

Over and above any other sub-genres defined or not so defined in the cinematic medium, this type is one that always fascinates me. I really also appreciate non-linear editing/story-telling, and though it may stumble at times, I cant help but admire the effort that went into it's making.

Character driven films have always held my attention more so than plot driven ones, and this is a perfect example. The story exists to serve the characters, and the actors chosen to fulfill the roles are amazing. The casting, editing and cinematography are exceptional.

Perhaps the biggest surprise was the casting and more than competent acting of Channing Tatum. Normally I am dismissive of jocks-turned-models-turned-actors, but, wow, he was really well cast and his performance was powerful.

The cast including Robert Downey Jr. (once again reminding me why he's in my Top 3 Favorite Actors of all time), Shia LeBeouf (that kid has serious skills), Dianne Wiest (her eyes are so expressive), Rosario Dawson (daaaamn, I'd hit that, though she likely wouldn't hit me, haha) and Chazz Palminteri (so, so good in this role) all turn in career worthy performances.

OK, I need to stop gushing and return to the book I'm reading. If you enjoy quality cinematic experiences, I urge everyone to check this out. Here's the trailer:

DAMN YOU DENNIS QUAID! PART II

I just got the living shit scared out of me. Around 5AM someone started ringing my buzzer. I assumed a neighbor was locked out or someone had the wrong address but the few polite buzzes turned into full fledged "what the fuck" is going on concern on my behalf. After throwing on the nearest pair of pants I went downstairs and saw a flashlight illuminating the lobby of my 6 flat, courtesy of Chicago's finest. The customer service oriented cop was here to inform me that my sexy Japanese car was about to be "hooked" because I apparently parked in a temporary tow zone so that Dennis can pretend to act. I thanked the nice officer and ran back upstairs to grab my keys and sprinted down the street to move my car.

Passing by the set I asked the nearest Teamster how long they planned on filming here, "ah, a few days or so" the large grey haired man said. Perhaps because I was a bit cranky I replied "good, get the hell out of my neighborhood" and dodged several headset clad people scurrying about while spending 20 minutes looking for a parking spot. If Dennis Quaid, Rob Brown (who btw is rather easy on the eyes according to my roommate) or producer John Davis is reading this, thank you very much for relieving me of 2 hours of much needed sleep on a Monday morning. You best open big when The Express is released.

Oh, and since I have a bachelors degree in film/video production feel free to contact me if you need any Production Assistants or need any skinny sleep deprived white dudes to be extras.

DAMN YOU DENNIS QUAID!

The show tonight was good. My brother warned me how this place doesn't have a sign to identify it other than the old OLD STYLE beer banner. I spent the better part of 15 mintes walking up and down Western Avenue peering into 5 places that all had OLD STYLE signs out front. Finally I followed the trail of cigarette smoke and found the place.

Hipster heaven, this place was. I tried starting a conversation with the cute guy I was sitting next to, and I have no idea what language he spoke back to me in. My guess is Polish. Why do people keep thinking I'm eastern European?

The show was solid but not rocking. (Oh, and Will Johnson is a fine looking man in person...)

Anywho, back to Dennis Quaid. I left the bar around 11:30 and when I got home there was nowhere to park. I pride myself on my ability to park my ride in front of my apartment building as nearly any hour, but DQ is filming a football movie a block over in the park by my place and parking spots are/were scarce.

DQ better act his ass off tomorrow.

300

Although I have zero interest in the seeing the actual film, I'm fascinated by the response 300 has received from the film going public. The film grossed a staggering $70,885,301 in it's first 3 days in wide release and it's still running strong. Who would have thunk it that the mainstream movie going public would be so eager to thrown down $9 for 2 hours of raw homoerotic action? Perhaps Warner Bros. figured this would be just what repressed Americans needed during Lent...

And now to the real reason for this post; a 53 second parody of 300 set to "It's Raining Men". Enjoy.

"CHILDREN OF MEN"

Really good films have this intense intangible effect on me where it totally overwhelms my senses and provokes a deep visceral reaction that stays with me for days. The "Children of Men” is such a film. Set 20 years in the future where the last child on earth to be born is killed at age 18, a mysterious infertility disease is threatening human existence while war and ecological catastrophe has plunged the world into a certain death spiral. Heavy Fucking Shit. I usually avoid science fiction like Karaoke Night at a gay bar but this film transcends that and most other genres that may be applied to it. Directed by Alfonso Cuarón, (who also directed one of my favorite films, “Y tu mamá también”) who adapted the script from author P.D. James’s novel of the same name, the film explores environmental, immigration and religious themes and illustrates the potential horrific consequences of insulating our society from the larger world and the possibilities of unchecked military control of the world’s population. This film fucking blew my mind…easily the best film of 2006 in my humble opinion.