Before I watched Layer Cake, I did not know who Matthew Vaughn was. Nor did I know who Daniel Craig was. I surely know now.
Vaughn has gone on to bigger and better director-y things such as the underrated Stardust, Kick-Ass, X-Men: First Class and the upcoming Kingsman: The Secret Service.
Daniel Craig has since been in many a small film, but also he has had his testicles tortured as 007, James Bond.
But Layer Cake is what I want to babble about today. It is intricate, economical, and clever. It is smart, ambitious, and elegant. To call it a crime film does it a disservice. To call it one of my favorite films would be much more correct. Go watch it. Now.
Also, do not be surprised when Albus Dumbledeux says the F-word.
My last post was on my birthday, July 30th. Forty-four this year.
Anyway, I decided to take a few days off of work, and to take a few days off of writing. This is the busy time of year where I work, and I was starting to feel kinda frayed. So, a tiny vacation.
Rest assured, dear reader, I will be back here tomorrow to resume my bloggy ways. Lots of good things in the coming weeks. I'm excited for some of the things I'm going to be writing about.
He liked other sports too. He liked watching basketball and golf and boxing and horse racing but the sport I remember watching the most with him was football.
On Sunday we would come home from church and while Mom toiled in the kitchen to concoct the All American Sunday Dinner, the old man would sit in his chair and turn the TV to whichever seasonal sport was on. I remember loving football the most because it was on during the fall and into the winter and I could postpone whatever school work I had to do because the old man would let me watch football with him.
As I became an adult and I got my own place and I could watch whatever I want whenever I want, I still watched a lot of football. The last few years I haven't watched as much because I work on Sundays, but I still watched Sunday Night Football, Monday Night Football, and Thursday Night Football. During each football season I usually belonged to two different fantasy football leagues and I spent an inordinate amount of time watching game highlights, reading team newspaper reports and sports blogs so that I could use the gathered information to compete in my leagues. I always knew there were better and more productive ways to spend my time, but hey, whatever man.
I always dug the beautiful symmetry of a perfectly executed run play; the offensive linemen blocking and the running back dancing through the labyrinth of carnage. I loved watching a speedy wide receiver crossing up his defender and catching a brilliantly thrown pass.
But what really got my attention was the defensive hits. For years the NFL ran a show called Jacked Up wherein they showed play after play of guys getting their bells rung by other guys and I only ever felt bad about it when the guy who got nailed had to be removed on a stretcher.
But then players I enjoyed watching started missing games and even seasons and even retiring because of concussion related damage. Merrill Hoge, Troy Aikman, and Steve Young among others. I, belatedly, began to pay attention to the fallout of all the headshots these guys took.
Then guys started dying.
But first they'd suffer dementia, depression and various other malladies. So the NFL, in their wisdom, convened a group to study the effects of head trauma. They appointed a *ahem* rheumatologist to be their head trauma point man. Then he, and the NFL, denied for years that repetetive head trauma, you know, like the ones routinely suffered by their players, was the cause of any problems.
If you've got the time, I'd highly recommend this documentary about how all this stuff came to light.
Let's shift gears here for a minute.
The NFL franchise in Washington D.C. is named the Redskins. Being a white male, it was convenient for me to ignore the offensiveness of this team name. The NFL and the Washington franchise owner cried aloud that the name was meant to honor Native Americans and that they were proud to do so and that the public should just relax. So I did.
And then I saw this:
So pretty much the name change was to avoid confusion so that the team could make more money, and had nothing to do with honoring Native Americans. Ugh.
And now I think the NFL and Daniel Snyder, the owner of the Washington franchise are awful. They are full of lies. They, like other corporations, only want my money. They will lie, prevaricate, deceive, and con anyone in their path to keep making their money.
And, I'm ashamed to say, I was still planning on watching football and participating in fantasy football this year. I was just going to swallow a jarful of purposeful amnesia so I could continue to enjoy this game that I have always loved.
But now, I can't. Here, lemme splain.
If an NFL player gets busted for smoking marijuana, that player gets automatically supsended four games for a first offense and more games for further violations of the drug policy. Hang on to this nugget of info, we'll get back to it later.
A few months ago, Ray Rice, a running back for the Baltimore Ravens was in Las Vegas with his fiancee, Janay Palmer. In an elevator, they fought, and Rice apparently knocked her out cold. There's video of him dragging her limp form out of the elevator.
And now the NFL has reviewed all of the facts, and they have suspended Rice for two games.
Got that? Smoke a joint, four or more games. Knock a woman out cold and drag her limp body around, two games.
And that was it. I decided that I would, as headline reads, vote with my feet. I will no longer give the NFL my time or my money. I will make every effort to display them as mysoginistic, racist, money grubbing assholes until either I die, or they are able to treat their players and fans as human beings with all of the respect that they deserve.
Postscript: Two days ago, Ray Rice reported to off season workouts for the Ravens. He received a standing ovation from fans. I'm confident now that I've made the right choice.
Loved the original Mad Max, loved The Road Warrior, and I am desperately trying to forget Beyond Thunderdome.
I like Tom Hardy, I *digs toe into ground* think Charlize Theron is purdy. And a hell of an actress. The practical stunts in this trailer are hair raising. This really looks awesome. I can't wait.
Played the Destiny beta today on the ol' PS3. It's pretty cool. Am looking forward to playing the real game in September.
In the meantime, I'm also looking forward to the expanded fancy schmancy version of Diablo III that comes out in August.
Also Sacred 3 comes out in August as well, in case any of you were worrying about me getting my mindless video game fix.
I signed up for the Kindle Unlimited program today. Agh, my attention span! I already downloaded about eleventy bazillion books. It's like going to the library but I don't have to put on pants. Awesome!
Next week Blightborn comes out. It's part two in the Heartland Trilogy by Chuck Wendig. Part one is Under the Empyrean Sky and I dug it. Am excited for more.
I love the understated characters, the complex heist/double cross, and the awesome cast. Robert De Niro. Stellan Skarsgaard. Natscha McElhone. Jean Reno. Jonathan Price. Boromir. The guy who played Hugo Drax, and featuring That Dude.
Come for the cast, stay for the best car chase scenes this side of a Bourne movie.
One of my favorite songs being flat out nailed by what appear to be middle schoolers. At that age I was still playing with my own poop. I especially like the tiny lad that appears at about :45 in doing the percussion with the wooden blocks.
I wonder if anybody has taken the time to instruct the children on the Jungian slant of the song lyrics. "Hey Duplo shorty! Dig the existential bent of your subconcious as you're backing up the dope rythm section!" Or something.
The Man From Nowhere is Asian crime cinema the way I like it. Gritty, violent, dark humor, revenge and redemption. I cried at the end. B+
The last time I saw Star Trek II The Wrath of Khan was a long, long time ago. Probably on VHS. There was so much of it I had forgotten that it was, quite honestly, like watching a new movie. Better than I remember, even. A small film (relatively speaking, I suppose) with big ideas and themes that were well executed. The best of the Star Trek films by a long shot. B+
How in the world did this movie not win every Oscar for hair and makeup? Lookit Ricardo Montalban's fake pecs! And his wig! Good lord they're amazing!
And Shatner's toupee is ON POINT! Gorgeous! And young Kristie Alley doesn't look so bad either.
Dororo is Asian fantasy cinema the way I like it. Nutty, non-sensical, supernatural, swords-and-magic insanity. Unfortunately, some of the effects kinda sucked, and in many places the small budget showed up in a large way. Mostly good, partly bad... C+
So I'm behind this person (gender unknown) in the drive thru the other day and I still don't know what to make of this.
(also, even though I've tried about four thousand times, this stupid photo keeps rotating ninety degrees, so let's pretend I'm not semi-retarded with computers and just tilt your head to the right so you can read this vanity plate)
What I can't figure is this: is this person an idiot who can't spell? Is this person a troll who preys on the cynical, like me, with an obviously misspelled license plate? Is there some hidden meaning meant only for the hipsters who are in on the joke?
So lately I've been pondering some of the big-picture issues of my life.
I think I want to move. Should I?
Should I go back to school?
Should I find a different job?
Should I maybe start dating again?
It's so bloody hot, should I shave my beard?
So these questions, not necessarily in that order, have been on my mind a lot lately. These things, and more, have got me kind of frazzled.
I mostly spent Saturday laying about in my underwear thinking these thoughts. I kept meaning to do stuff like watch a movie, do laundry, read, write, nap, etcetera, but I never did any of it because I can't figure out what to be when I grow up.
Tonight I will think some more, but I will also have a life. And soon, I will have answers. Then, who knows?
Admittedly, I had a lot on my mind (if it amounts to anything I'll write about it later) but that's no excuse.
Anyway, here I am today, writing my little black heart out.
So a few days ago I mentioned a book I've been reading called Blood Song and I finished it up this morning and I think I liked it quite a bit. The ending was not what I expected (but not in a bad way) and I'll be moving onto the second in the series soon.
I'm still mentally writing my review of Do The Right Thing, but I have yet to find a way to approach it that I like. Will post it soon, then move on to the next AFI movie number ninety-five, The Last Picture Show. I'm kind of excited to see it because I have absolutely no idea what it's about. I know who's in it and who directed it but no clue of the plot, which is cool considering it's (allegedly) one of the best movies ever made.
All right. Time to move along. Gonna go eat and stuff.
Totally forgot to write today. After work I read for awhile then went to a friends for dinner and a movie. Now I'm home and I was in bed and that's when I remembered that I hadn't written. So here is my daily entry, lame as it may be. Blood Song is still good. Should finish it tomorrow. Watched Top Secret and ate homemade chili verde. Both were excellent. Now I must sleep. Nite nite.
Luke Skywalker. Paul Muad'Dib. Neo. Shea Ohmsford. Frodo Baggins. Harry Potter. Buffy Summers. Katniss Everdeen. Etcetera, etcetera.
I have always been a sucker for stories, pretty much all of them in the fantasy/sci-fi realm, that feature The Chosen One. I have read many a book, seen many a movie, played many a video game where this trope is central to its mythology.
Probably no secret that the reason most people enjoy these stories is because we want to be the chosen one. What nebbish dweeb (I am refering to me, here) doesn't?
The reason I bring this up is because I started a new chosen-one-type book yesterday and so far it's pretty damn good. Blood Song by Anthony Ryan is downright enjoyable. I'm about halfway through and I am totally digging it.
I'll be back in a day or two or three to let you know how it goes. It's the first book of a trilogy (the second book Tower Lord is out tomorrow, July 8th.
Since there are about forty-seventy-bazillion Chosen One stories out there, let me know your favorites, ya know, ones that I didn't already mention, so I can look into them.
I'm tired. It's really hot in my apartment. I forgot to write today so this is me keeping my word to write every day even if I have nothing to write about. Tonight I watched The Firm with Tom Cruise. I was surprised to see Margo Martindale as Mitch's secretary. Also Tobin Bell, evil villain of the Saw francise, played an evil villain. Okay. I have to get up at 5am so off to bed I go. Perhaps tomorrow I will write something with more substance, verve, wit, boobs or fart jokes.
I was the youngest of six children in a conservative and religious home in a conservative and religious small town. It was the olden days before the internet and I only knew one person (my grandmother) who had cable before I was thirteen. And that's when cable was eight channels and three of them were fuzzy. The town was about 95% white and about 95% Mormon. Sometimes we would venture out of our little town to Salt Lake City (also very white and very Mormon-y) or go to Mesa, AZ during the winter to visit my Dad's parents (Mesa: white, Mormon). Needless to say, there was not a lot of diversity in my life.
After high school graduation I began to attend the local junior college which -surprise!- was a parochial school run by the Mormon church. The school enforced a strict dress code and a personal conduct code that homogenized the student body into a same-dressing, same-behaving gaggle of youths marching lockstep toward our heavenly reward. I was a milquetoast lad in a whitebread world.
So in 1989, at the age of 19, when I watched Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing my mind was pretty much blown. From the opening credits featuring Rosie Perez dancing to Public Enemy, to the highly charged and unfamiliar (to me) racial and social tensions of Bedford-Stuysevant, it's safe to say I had never seen anything like it before.
Concerning the song:
Up to this point in my life, the only rap music I had heard had been pretty harmless. Stuff like this
Or this
and these guys were edgy as heck (who knew that they would become hip hop's elderstatesmen?)
but all these songs were about normal teenager tropes - chicks, parents, parties.
So me and my buddy Mitch rent Do The Right Thing and thanks to those opening credits, Public Enemy detonated a bomb in my psyche. This was no teen angst, this was a powerful political concisousness aimed toward activism and empowerment. I had never heard a voice like Chuck D's and even though Flava Flav was a total goofball, he was still pretty awesome. Sonically it was mesmerizing. I still listen to PE all the time. They're my favorite rap group ever period the end nuff said.
Anyhoo, while I prepare to review Do The Right Thing, I thought I'd hit up this tangent just for the flimsy excuse to listen to a lot of late 80s and early 90s hip hop. Time well spent if you ask me.
Ah. Sorry. Allegedly there is more than one reader of this here bloggy blog. Who knew? What with my prolific publication rate and all...
So anyway, because of some previously mentioned health issues, because of the general ridiculousness of life, and because sometimes I've got my head really really far up my ass, I've been remiss in my writings. And not just this blog but my script stuff, emails, general writing, any and all things that are written.
We all know that if you want to improve as a writer, you must write Every Single Day. So that's what is going to happen here from now on. Even when I end a sentence with a preposition.
So even if I have to crawl out of bed to make a new post that says "gah. tired. hate you all." that's what I'll do.
I'm going to get back to reviewing the AFI top 100 (next up, Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing) and I'm going to get back to writing my script stuff. Every Single Day.
That's it. That's my promise to you, to myself, to the great cosmic void.
So. Blade Runner. (I really dig this version of the poster)
I am conflicted. On the one hand this movie is iconic. Ridley Scott on top of his game. Young Harrison Ford at his apex. Gritty Future Noir; deep, dark, conflicted. Sean Young before she faded away. Rutger Hauer being legitimately threatening and then giving his famous creepy monologue at the end. Gorgeous set design (some inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright). Intelligent, inventive sci-fi based on a Phillip K. Dick novel. What's not to love?
Well. For whatever reason, I never really connected with this movie. When everyone onscreen gets all angsty about What It Means To Be Human, I shrug and reach for my popcorn. I've seen this movie at least three times (the original theatrical release on VHS, the Director's Cut version on DVD, and the Final Cut on Blu-ray) and I can tell you that is an impressive film beautifully wrought, and I just don't care.
(For the record, the Final Cut version was, in my opinion, the best version.)
Anyway, I don't think anything is wrong with this movie, I'm not going to call it overrated or anything. Though it contains lots of things I should like, I just don't. I'm going to say that in this case, it's me. Much like Steven Soderbergh's movies can be beautiful and brilliant, they usually leave me cold.
I"ll give this movie a B, and I may change my mind later.
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