The Destination is the Journey

I just read a fascinating interview regarding the closing of a video store in Brooklyn. It made me so sad. In the discussion, they bring up so many areas about which I have felt the same for years. Sometimes when people ask me what I want to do, I ponder whether I'd like a video store. But reading stories like this reminds me that it's hard enough to start small business right now, and the rental world is dying unnecessarily. So why bother doing something that isn't going anywhere?

I encourage everyone to follow the link and read this piece because it is amazing. This beautiful elegy reminds me of the things that make me happy and are important to me, and sadly reminds me that the world is leaving me behind. Don't throw away the chance of buying things in stores, or visiting stores, or renting hard copies instead of doing it all on a computer. Sometimes you get more than just what you thought you wanted. It's good to have a place for these things; sometimes you'll find the destination was really the journey.

Read the original article here: http://www.hammertonail.com/interviews/be-kind-remember-alex-ross-perry-and-joe-martin-discuss-the-closing-of-reel-life-south/

St Patrick's Day

A little lesson for the day from VeggieTales. It's fun, despite the fact that it's idea of paganism is vastly oversimplified for kids, and takes a shot at Disney's Pocahontas for no reason.

Furthermore, the shamrock is NOT a metaphor for God, and I don't know why they continue to tell kids this. It has three separate leaves. God is much more like water than he is like a shamrock.

But you don't want to read my blatherings, just watch the video. And hey, is that tiny stonehenge a reference to Spinal Tap?

Best Films of 2011

I now present my annual best films list for the previous year. It took this long because I didn't want to compile a list until I had seen more of the movies. Again, this only covers movies I actually saw, so there could be great movies out there that I missed. Other good but flawed movies nearly made this list, but I wanted to keep it to ten. Sorry Martha Marcy May Marlene.

10. Drive -- There are certain movies that go on to define a season or a year regardless of their quality. Both Bridesmaids and The Help fit into this category. And even though it almost made this list, Bridesmaids had a fatal flaw that made me exclude it: the movie hates its protagonist. For some reason, the message seems to be that everything is her fault, though it clearly is not, and that she just has to get over herself. That, and the fact that the movie really didn't need it's much-talked-about bathroom gross-out scene. But the other movie that got everyone talking this summer was Drive, with Ryan Gosling. It's a strange movie with an odd energy to it that is both engrossing and off-putting. Gosling is good in it, but he's been good in a lot of films over the past ten years. In some ways, this movies a kind of modern Taxi Driver. The premise is that Gosling is a Hollywood stunt driver who moonlights driving get-away for criminals. Like certain other films, the movie is schizophrenic; the second half becomes a very violent maelstrom, while the first half is more slow and brooding. If you're put off by gore, do not be fooled by the first half! This movie gets bloody really fast, and doesn't let up. But I was still taken with some of the performances. It was great seeing Bryan Cranston in a supporting role, playing someone both different form and similar to his Breaking Bad persona Walter White. But the real stand-out here is Albert Brooks who gets to put aside comedy to play a very menacing character. The fact that he was denied a supporting actor nomination is shameful. Drive is not as good as many people extolled it to be, but it's engaging for what it is and impossible to ignore.

9. The Muppets -- We have to appreciate that Jason Segal was able to bring the Muppets back to the big screen. But let's be clear, this is not as good as the best of the classic Muppet films. Nothing can replace the work of Jim Henson and Frank Oz on films like The Great Muppet Caper. But it's a lot of fun, and helps wash away the taste of disappointment left by Muppets From Space. There are some very funny moments and some great references to previous Muppet stuff. This is the only Muppet movie to really reference the Muppet Show, and makes it the center of the plot. Unfortunately, the references sometimes hurt the movie, and it sometimes starts feeling less like a great Muppet movie and more like very good fan fiction. The story of Segal and Amy Adams' characters is sidelined midway for the "let's reunite the gang" story. The movie isn't always sure what plot to follow. But Adams is charming as she always is and has a lovely solo moment in a restaurant (there are so many good musical moments its a shame the Academy only recognized one song). She even pays homage to Charlie Chaplin in The Gold Rush. Since Frank Oz has retired, it takes a little getting used to the new voicing for Piggy and Fozzie (though it's a little better than it has been in recent specials and appearances). I came out of the movie charmed, but missing just a little something, which is why it's so low on the list. And yet, the sheer energy of the movie, the love for what the characters used to be, the cameos from Mickey Rooney and others I won't spoil, make it a movie well worth seeing, hopefully signaling even better things to come from the Muppets now that they are back.

8. The Descendants -- George Clooney puts in another great performance in this movie, playing one of the remaining descendants of Hawaiian royalty who are trying to decide whether or not to sell their remaining plot of untouched Hawaiian real estate. Meanwhile, his wife is in the hospital following a water skiing accident, and he's just now learning she had an affair. He's torn between taking care of his daughters and his love for his dying wife, and facing this revelation of her infidelity. He's in an emotionally impossible situation. In moments like this, the film really works. Both his daughters are good characters, and ably played. Unfortunately, the movie pays attention to the younger one at the start of the movie, but then she drifts into the background for precocious moments of comic relief once her older sister returns. It bothers me that the movie is unable to really deal with both girls at once. This could have been handled had it been pointed out that Clooney's character can't handle both at once, making this deliberate. But it doesn't feel that way. Also, there's a little too much voice over, and the ultimate resolution of the Hawaiian land plot could be seen a mile away. These facts keep me from thinking of it as a truly great movie, but it is a very good one. I don't want to make it sound like it's a bad movie. It's not.

7. War Horse -- Here's one that many critics wrote off as being too old-fashioned, and I don't understand why that is a bad thing. It's a classic Hollywood Technicolor epic. It's shot to have that feel of older movies, and I love it for that. People always complain that "they don't make movies like this anymore", but when movies like that get made, they are written off. While this movie lacks the novelty of the stage play with it's puppet horse, it does a lot with the actual horse, really following him as a character. It's a great "boy and his horse" movie, like The Black Stallion. Yes, it gets a little bit long as it heads into the war sequences, but it's just a solid feel-good movie. If you love horses, I highly recommend it. There's no profanity (save one "bastard" in the first scene), and only a fair amount of war violence no worse than Gone With the Wind.

6. Red State -- This movie totally took me by surprise. When I first read that Kevin Smith was writing a horror movie with a religious subject, I wasn't sure what to think. But it ends up being a fascinating look at extremism. The movie is about a church like the Westboro Baptist Church only cranked up even crazier. These guys don't just show up at funerals with gay-bashing signs; they have an arsenal of guns in their church, and they lure perverts in with sting operations so they can execute them publicly in church for their sins. There's a real frightening charisma on display. There are echos of real-life cult incidents. The young leads in the movie start off like typical Kevin Smith stoner characters just looking to score. What happens to them is one of the most disturbing shifts since Janet Leigh was slashed in Psycho. In fact, the movie owes a lot structurally to Psycho, right up to the final expository wrap-up. It's Smith's most well-directed movie, as he's finally grasped the knack of the moving camera. He seems to have studied a lot of modern horror in the way he shoots it. Michael Parks is impossible to ignore (kind of like if Robert Duvall in The Apostle were a serial killer). It's certainly not a movie for all tastes, nor is it flawless. There's a moment or two that feel like characters say things just to be darkly humorous or satirical, but that feel out of place in context. At one point a character is told to behave "like a good Christian" and it just feels trite. But I was effected by the movie, and I have to commend Smith for that.

5. Moneyball -- A better movie than I expected, exploring the use of Bill James' ideas about statistics in baseball and their real-life application with the Oakland A's in the early 2000s. Brad Pitt gives a great performance, his best in awhile, and Jonah Hill is just as good, still managing to be funny without breaking character. Sometimes understanding the exact details of what's going on may be hard for people who don't follow baseball, but the movie succeeds in making the feeling of it all make sense despite this. I loved the use of actual game footage and the way the sound would sometimes drop out. I also thought it was a nice way to give a little of the other side of the Red Sox' eventual World Series win. It's weird to see this movie open with the A's losing Johnny Damon to Boston. The movie makes a good case that their win would never have happened without these events playing out first. A must-see for baseball fans and anyone who likes unconventional thinkers.

4. Midnight in Paris -- Woody Allen does it again! He shoots Paris the way he used to shoot New York, even opening the movie with a montage of still shots that echo the opening of Manhattan. The movie is a gentle fantasy following a modern writer who finds himself in 1920s Paris hobnobbing with famous writers and artists at midnight each night. It's a light-hearted meditation on the deceptiveness of nostalgia, and it's also quite funny at times. Many of the jokes will play better for hyper-literate people who will get all the references. I particularly like the scenes with the surrealists; Adrien Brody is a hoot as Salvador Dali. I love the moment when Gil tries to suggest to Luis Bunuel the plot for The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.

3. The Artist -- Oh look, a silent movie! I find it remarkable that the same critics who fault War Horse for being old-fashioned are praising this movie which does the same thing in a different era. The movie is set in the late 1920s and early 1930s at the end of the silent movie era, so the movie is (almost) entirely done as a silent film. It handles this quite accurately in the way it is scored, shot and edited. There's even a moment of surprise that derives solely from a title screen. The basic plot is of a great silent film star who doesn't want to go along with the sound revolution. It's sort of a mix of Singin' in the Rain and some of the reality of Charlie Chaplin, who continued making silent movies until 1940 (well, Modern Times had sync sound, but no dialogue). It's a very cute movie, but there's not a whole lot of story here or much that we haven't seen before. I liked it, though I found I didn't love it. May have worked better as a 40-minute short subject than a full feature, but the cast does a good job with the material and for the most part they remain true to the conceit which, though a little precious, does what it sets out to do. It's really a metaphor for George refusing to be heard in the movies. One of the first lines in the movie is "Speak!" This is of course the point of the whole concept and I at least can't fault the movie for committing to it.

2. Hugo -- Martin Scorsese's 3D family film is very well-made and a love letter to film preservation in some ways. It encompasses many aspects from a number of the Best Picture nominees: it has Paris in the '20s like Midnight in Paris, the making of silent film like The Artist, and a number of plot similarities to Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. If it get's the younger generations learning more about the early days of cinema, special effects, and the genius of George Melies, then I'm glad it was made. There is one seemingly giant plot hole regarding the automaton that leads Hugo to the revelations he seeks, and that does bother me. I don't know if these are flaws in the novel or unique to the movie. However, it remains a well-constructed ode to the silent era of film and to neglected artists just trying to get by in the world. The 3D is well-done. I only wish that Scorsese hadn't stereo-converted the old Melies footage at the end; I thought that was unnecessary and to me doesn't sit right with the movie's message of film preservation; that's alteration, and bothers me. Fun fact: the movie has the standard "the story and characters in this movie are fictitious" disclaimer at the end of the credits, despite the fact that George Melies was a real person and those were all real films of his!

1. Take Shelter -- Just like the past two years, the best movie of the year is the one that the Academy completely ignored. Take Shelter is a movie I wanted to see as soon as I saw the trailer, but wasn't sure what to expect. I have to say no movie has moved me more this year. It's got a little bit of Noah's ark, a little bit of Field of Dreams. The basic story is that Curtis, a working class guy in Ohio, starts having disturbing dreams of a coming catastrophic storm so he works hard to build out the tornado shelter in his yard. However, this action puts strains on his job, his relationships with friends and family, and may be due to mental illness; he has a family history of schizophrenia. I loved the detail of his having a deaf daughter. I think Jessica Chastain does great work here, and should have been nominated for this film and not The Help. But the real centerpiece here is Michael Shannon's amazing performance. The best actor category is weird this year, and Shannon's absence is both conspicuous and horrible. The movie maintains a reality, even amid it's more poetic, fanciful elements. It had only a very small theatrical release, but has just been issued on DVD. I encourage everyone to seek it out. I don't want to say much more about it for fear of spoiling it, but you have to see this movie.

T-totalers

I saw mentioned on the news this week a story about the MBTA doing away with advertisments for alcohol on their trains. Now, for those outside the area who don't know, the MBTA is the transit system in and around Boston, commonly known as "the T". If you watch a TV series set in Boston, you'll see the round T signs everywhere.

Anyway, the news broadcast had a poll question as to whether the public thought it was a good idea for the T to stop taking ad revenue from alcohol manufacturers. I should also mention that right now the MBTA is in a major debt crisis; they are, if I recall the number correctly, 160 million dollars in the hole. There is serious talk right now about cutting bus lines, late night trains, service to certain areas and drastically raising fares. These things make frequent commuters angry, especially as some of us think they've been throwing money away on useless stuff for the past five years. So the question really being posed is, can the T afford to be so choosy about where its ad money comes from?

The argument being made is that they don't want to advertise these things were children can see it, and thus be encouraged to drink. The vox pops interviews mentioned that again and again: "Think of the children!" And I am so tired of that. To that I say a hearty "Fie!"

Why is it that when it comes to drinking, the public thinks children are moronic sponges? The ads are not saying "Hey kids, let's drink!" This isn't about marketing something to children; it's no Joe Camel situation. This is a product marketed to adults. Underage kids who are going to drink are not going to do it just because they see a sign with a beer on it. I know that people are going to disagree and say, "Yes they will! Children are impressionable!" Well can I ask you then, how many print ads for sports cars have resulted in underage or unlicensed driving? ...Can't answer that, can you? Why? Because nobody is bothering to ask the question, since it is absurd on its face. And I think alcohol ads are not any different.

If we start denying ad space for fear of influencing children, how long is it before we stop advertising cola, or cookies, or video games? This sort of thinking sounds good and gets people all riled up, but it really means the death of print advertising. Frankly, I think print advertising is LESS dangerous than video ads where people are depicted drinking. Most print ads are just a picture of the product with some text. We're afraid that ads will make people want to drink? Well, that just means the ad is doing its job. It won't have any special effect on children. And remember, kids can't buy alcohol; so why make the issue about the train ads instead of about cutting off access to the product?

If a print campaign were really so influential, then all those anti-smoking ads should have resulted in a drastic decline in teen cigarette use. Did they? I don't know, I'm not a statistician. But I think ultimately a few advertisements aren't going to make kids go out and break the law any more than an ad for body wash is going to make a kid want to immediately take a shower.

The T needs all the money it can get. Can we please stop pretending that people magically become smarter only at 21? Because after listening to these arguments, the opposite seems true.

So... Random Question

Is it wrong that some days I just hope that somebody punches Joel Osteen in the face? Not like permanent damage or anything, but I think a good sock in that smile of his might do him some good.

Am I the only one?

Abandoned Concepts

This week's episode of How I Met Your Mother featured a very clever gag in which Barney proclaimed himself leader of gang, and re-imagined the opening credits to be all about him. It then happened a second time later in the episode. Normally, I'm a big fan of these kinds of self-referential gags on television every once in awhile. It rewards viewers who watch every week, especially when it involves opening credits. But when I thought about it a little more, I realized that the joke in this instance was funny for a moment, but betrayed the underlying conceit of the series. It bothers me when series abandon their conceits in this way, and that's what this post is about.

Before I go further, I do want to say there are times that I love gags like this. X-Files fans thrilled to any time the "The Truth is Out There" tagline was changed at the end of the opening. There was an arc on The Office a couple years ago where Michael started his own paper company. For one of those episodes, the opening credits were redone with images of this new office. I thought it was very clever. Or Community, which derives it's very existence from being "meta" and referential, changed the artwork in the "cootie catcher" paper folded thing in its opening for the Dungeons and Dragons episode. But what happened on How I Met Your Mother ultimately doesn't work in the same light. The conceit of the show is that Ted in the future is telling his children the long, convoluted story of how he met their mother. The series then should always be in Ted's point of view. The opening credits are done as a kind of photo collage of moments of him and his friends. They work, out of the kind of nostalgia of telling your kids "this is how we used to be, back when I met your mother." But the series has recently been drifting a little too far off that road with some outside stories that really have nothing to do with this main thread, and episodes being told by other characters' voice-overs. That means we have to think Ted is telling the kids what his friends are telling other people; a flashback in a flashback. This used to be handled better in the earlier seasons, but now for the sake of the show's longevity it is stretching beyond its concept. Which is why I ultimately don't like the Barney joke this week. For it to work, it means that Barney is aware of this as a TV show, or aware of there being opening credits like this. While it's funny for a moment to call the show "How I Met Your Barney" and all that, it flies in the face of the show's concept. Had this been Ted proclaiming leadership and changing the credits, that would have worked because the series is Ted's point-of-view. It sadly spoiled the joke for me on reflection, in a way that other similar gags had not.

Other current sitcoms are running into similar issues related to their concepts. Parks and Recreation is brilliant, but since the third season has lost some of its early drive. The impetus behind the pilot, the entire first season, and much of the second, was that Leslie promised Anne that she would build a park on the vacant lot by Anne's house that was a pit. Somewhere in season 2 they filled in the pit, so that was good. And for awhile the series had an excuse; they wrote in that the parks department was bankrupt, so season three was more about acts of good faith to get their funding back. But it's at a point now where it seems they've forgotten why they started. Is Anne ever going to get that park? Leslie made a promise, and every new week that goes by without any progress on that front makes me wonder why Anne is still friends with Leslie. At some point, shouldn't Anne say, "Hey, whatever happened to that park you promised me?" I wish they would at least address the issue in an episode here or there.

Fringe is another series that changed gears in its second season. This was mostly for the better. The first season was all about unrelated strange events being part of "the pattern", and tying into some complicated business about multiverses. This was streamlined down and the show got better, but for so much of the past couple seasons this has seemed like everything in season one that was supposed to be somehow related was completely ignored. From what I've seen, season 4 may finally tie these ends up a little more. But I haven't liked the way some of it was handled.

And the list goes on. The Office was set up to be shot in documentary-style, which spawned a number of imitators. The British version uses this conceit to its advantage, since UK televison series are generally shorter. But the longer the US version goes on, the more the logic behind this actually being a documentary is thrown away. It's easy to tell a joke using a talking head, but that cannot be all the form is for. Modern Family uses this structure, but it's never really pretended to be documentary; it's more a way to talk to the audience, the way that Malcolm (Malcolm in the Middle) or Clarissa (Clarissa Explains It All) used to do. But The Office was and is a documentary. They used to make reference to the cameras every now and then. Parks and Rec has done a little better job maintaining that same veneer, but it gets harder and harder to buy the logic of The Office. I'm constantly stopping and thinking, "Where is this being shot from?" every time characters drive places. The episode where they attended Andy's play was otherwise fine, but I was supposed to believe a camera crew was there in the aisles and backstage shooting all of this? Also, how long is this crew going to keep shooting these people? The logic reached its breaking point several years ago when they did a clip show. I forget what the set-up was, but Toby was in an interview with somebody and as they discussed certain things it would cut to old episode footage. Sorry, that's stretching the concept beyond its means.

What I'm getting at here as that no matter how good a series is, it cannot betray its own rules. Even if its funny, an audience has to expect certain parameters. I could go on about various other ways many different series throughout the years have broken their rules in some way, but I don't want to belabor the point. Suffice to say that as much as television pilot season thrives on these high concept ideas, the writers need to remember that these concepts must sustain a long-running series. M*A*S*H shouldn't have run as long as it did, nor should That '70s Show (especially since the latter begin around 1977). No series should get to the place where an audience asks, "But how does this relate to meeting their mother?" or "Shouldn't these characters have graduated by now?" To abandon these conceits may bring momentary joy, but ultimately betrays the origins of the work. No one part is worth sacrificing the whole. A television series is a house of cards; it can build as wide or tall as you like, but attention must be paid that it doesn't topple unnecessarily.

2012

...and I had to ring in 2012 with a song too. Considering the popular myth about the Mayan prediction of doom, this song seems appropriate. I miss matchbox twenty.