germans plotted to assassinate hitler? really?!

I'm bored tonight. So I keep reloading the main page of IMDb. And then it occurs to me, as I glance over the screen to see if there is anything worth checking out, that I have never seen a trailer for Valkyrie (2008). You can guess what happens next.

I really had no preconceived notions going in. I mean, I remember the big hoopla they made about attempting to score access to some bases there for filming purposes. Mr. Cruise's "faith" kept the doors locked for quite a while. A ridiculous reason, if you ask me, but they are right. He is nuts. But so are many other people. And that is neither here nor there.

I must admit I was a bit surprised that everyone in the film speaks with his own accent (there is what, one woman?). This means Cruise stars as the German Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (who knew he could play the ethnic card?!) with his own American accent. And all the Englishmen who round out his posse--you know, the other Germans who are plotting to kill Hitler during WWII--sound, well, English. This reminds me of the made-for-HBO film Conspiracy (2001) with Kenneth Branagh (who's also in Valkyrie) and Stanley Tucci. They were Germans with English and American accents, respectively. I should note, however, that some Germans do feature in the cast: Thomas Kretschmann and some lesser known stars (I don't even know who they are).

I know this makes me sound like some sort of modernist. But it's not as if the film is intentionally postmodern. Then maybe I would be more forgiving. It's also offensive because it is raping history. It's not as if I think this is a story only Germans should tell. Rather, I think that an attempt to be realistic would not only help the audience suspend their disbelief that Cruise, Branagh, my Bill Nighy, Terrence Stamp, and Eddie Izzard are the German masterminds behind this failed coup, it would also ground the history in its place. In other words, how is the audience supposed to appreciate what a select group of Nazis did to challenge their leader, the man who forever will be remembered as evil in the human form, if the coterie doesn't come off as German? Right now, with this film, they just come off as Cruise and his English group of friends playing at being heroic. Why is that story worth telling?

And another thing: I think having the actors maintain their own accents implicitly reinforces the Allied Powers' dominance in determining what Stephanie jokingly called "the mythology of Hitler." There are a lot of mediated representations of Hitler (and by extension, the Holocaust and in some cases, WWII), and they can all be collected in an archive. I would say that the story about him is always the same, with the exceptions of Max (2002), which depicted Hitler as a young artist, and Downfall (2004). Downfall is the most significant because not only does it try to humanize Hitler during his last days, it is also a German film--by a German director, in German, with German-speaking actors. (Bruno Ganz is Swiss-German.)

By eliding over German history in order to appeal to American audiences who want the film to be more action movie than historical thinkpiece, Valkyrie reclaims "Hitler" as belonging to an Allied history. For so long the Allies have had a grip on representations of WWII, the Holocaust (excepting Life is Beautiful [1998], I guess), and Hitler. For most of these films, Hitler--and by extension, his Axis "friends"--exist only to get beaten by the Allies, who have a monopoly, I think, on how he is remembered. Don't get me wrong. I am not suggesting that we reevaluate Hitler in order to make him sympathetic in order to induce empathy for him. I just wanted to point out how the Grand Narrative of WWII and Hitler is maintained by the Allies, who use him only to make themselves look good. Even when it's not their story, as is the case with Valkyrie.

happy birthday bill nighy

I feel like a right shit. I mean, I knew it was Bill's birthday (he's just 11 days older than my dad), but I had forgotten it's also Tom Wilkinson's birthday. Oh well. Happy birthday to Tom, too.

I knew this day was coming, that I needed to have a bit of something prepared. I cannot let the final third of my triumvirate of favorite people to watch go without having a proper birthday post. Right?

Why is Bill fun to watch? Mostly because he's just funny. In all senses of the word. He's self-deprecating. Just look at him all awkward-like on any red carpet or in any photo shoot. He's funny-looking, not afraid to look ridiculous. He snorts for fuck's sake! It might as well be his trademark, as much as his lanky figure is, or his pursed lips, mumbling, or stuttering are. I mean, no matter the role, he does it all. Well, I guess except in some extreme cases. For instance, I doubt he mumbled, stuttered, or frowned nervously in The Constant Gardener (2005). Could be wrong, though.

He's also got an underestimated versatility as an actor. He can be a vindictive prick, as is evidenced by The Constant Gardener. He can be different kind of bad guy, like Davy Jones in the last two Pirates of the Caribbean installments, though I must say his Scottish accent seems inconsistent at some points. I've never seen them, but isn't he also a baddie vampire in the Underworld movies? (I try to forget he was ever attached to them.) And he's been a rock legend a couple of times. Compare his turns as Ray the insecure lead singer trying to recapture his youth in Still Crazy (1998) with his role as the candid and confidently sexy has-been Billy Mack in Love Actually (2003).

Ray is still one of my favorite characters of his, as is Lawrence in The Girl in the Cafe (2005). His performance erases the heavy-handedness of the message and the slowness of the pacing. And then there's his turn as James Mortmain in I Capture the Castle (2003). As the writer-patriarch who hasn't been able to provide for his family in years, he's growing more and more distant from them, and he's mad. But his gesturing is funny.

Oh! And he just makes you smile in Shaun of the Dead (2004) as the eponymous character's STEPdad Philip. "You've got red on you." He also delivers one of the best lines in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (2005): "Slartibartfast." It's his character's name, and I don't think anyone else could have played that part because no one could make a ridiculous, extraterrestrial name sound any funnier than Bill can. The shame he has for having such a name comes off so well because Bill is sheepish, embarrassed. He plays it like he has most of his other awkward, comedic roles. Which makes me wonder: is he at all like that in "real life"? Ah, but that is neither here nor there.

Speaking of embarrassment, I am going to admit to something absolutely goofy. I play a sort of game with Bill's name. I wait for someone, usually my sister, to say "Nighty night!" just before we part on the phone. Then I yelp, with a very high pitched voice, "Bill Nighy!" It just works. I mean for it to be cute, but I realize now that I'm just stupid. And nuts.

Anyway, by now hopefully it is clear why I think Bill is fun to watch. He is so interesting because he is a character actor, an anti-hero. And while he may choose some roles that I just have to pretend don't exist (Underworld, really? How expensive is your rent?), he can always make them memorable. He stands apart from the rest because he is a bit like a chameleon, but there's always something there that makes me see it's Bill Nighy. Even when he's CGI.

happy birthday mads mikkelsen

I'm not even prepared to write about you just yet. Happy birthday, though.

cinematically grounded

I watched Paris, je t'aime (2006) last night and loved it. And today I read in the Guardian critics' opinions about how major world cities have representationally "fared" on film. It's by no means an exhaustive collection of cities and films. In any case, together the film and the article have made me think about what sort of director I would be.

If you remember, I have always dreamt of being a filmmaker. And one of the biggest reasons for this, besides my passionate cinephilia, is what I call "my cinematical mind." Essentially speaking, I think of my life as a movie, and my glasses as the frame of a camera. I have an idea of what I would be like as a filmmaker. In the very least, I would want to make movies I would enjoy watching. But I think cinephilia--whether in the form of postmodern cineliteracy or through the narrative a la Cinema Paradiso (1988)--would figure prominently, and this is important because I also tend to think spatially, in terms of cultural production and consumption. That is why the Guardian article appealed to me so much, getting critics' opinions about how cities have been (mis)represented in film. Paris, je t'aime, which was not mentioned at all, is about space and cinephilia.

So the Guardian article made me think about what kind of director I would be, what geographical location or region I might be associated with. And since my life is a movie and I have spent much of the time "filming" this movie in suburban Maryland, I thought, "Clearly that is my cinematic place!" But it's not just suburban Maryland. Never mind the fact that I do have freedom as an artist to represent places and things that are not natural to my life. In other words, I could make a film in or about New York, couldn't I? It just wouldn't be as good as a Woody Allen picture, if you ask me.

My point of view as a director based in suburban Maryland, close to D.C., would be about this relationship between the suburbs and the capital. I don't know for sure if the discrepancy between the places is totally unique, completely unlike other major cities relationships to their suburbs. I find there is a dearth of films about D.C. Sure, the ones about the government may take place here but they're not filmed here. Capturing aerial shots of the National Mall may establish the scene, but it is a trite one, one that keeps non-Washingtonians from seeing D.C. apart from the monuments and "official" landmarks of national memory and history. Only two films "take place" in D.C. and go beyond this: Broadcast News (1987) and Thank You For Smoking (2005). I hesitate to call the latter a film about D.C. because it's not, and it's not really grounded here no matter how many shots of the Metro and government buildings it features.

I suppose my enthusiasm for this idea of myself as a potential suburban Maryland director comes from my recent dependence on the Metrobus system. For 21 years I'd never ridden the public bus, but now I have--and a lot. I have a deeper appreciation for those who ride it and drive it every day. But also being out of control of where and when and how often the bus stops ultimately exposes to me just how wide a space the length, for instance, of Georgia Avenue, is.

More than this though, I imagine that the frustration I feel (along with others) about how inconveniently located the Metro is from my house would figure prominently in my film(s). I mean, it already does in my life. There is this pull from the suburbs, this idea that the city is the place to find culture (museums, cinemas, concert venues, ethnic restaurants, etc.). My version of "disaffected youth" doesn't include drugs and violence; it's about wanting to have an urban experience.

And let's face it, we need someone to make films about what life is "like" just outside the capital of the world's only superpower (I hate to say it). The site needs to be demystified. A film needs to show that despite having the smartest population or whatever (San Francisco comes in second), D.C.'s majority population is of racial minorities and/or of the lower class(es). Immigrants punctuate this, too. I don't claim I can make this film because I don't know what that "life" is like, but even the acknowledgment of it would be something.

Then I think more broadly about Maryland directors. The two most famous Maryland directors are John Waters and Barry Levinson. (Can you name any other Maryland directors, period?) But their focus is on Baltimore, glimpsing it from different angles. Waters is informed by the working class "freaks" (I don't really mean they are, but he is interested in the grotesque), and Levinson is nostalgic for growing up in the 1950s. My point of view, of course, is completely different. And it is about place, too.

Now back to that Guardian article. I'm a bit disappointed that they did not mention Paris, je t'aime. Having been to Paris and seen some of the places depicted, I can't say I recognized everything. That's the fiction, the romance. But the writer-directors did consciously think about how their stories would fit into the arrondissements. Christopher Doyle's "Porte de Choisy" seemed the most grounded in its place, depicting the Chinese enclave while also staying true to his vision (as a cinematographer, he's worked with many an Asian auteur). But it's also the most outlandish, the one most like a music video, where the visuals and sounds are the feature, not so much the narrative.

The Brothers Coen's "Tuileries," while set entirely in the subway as if to position the subjects and audience in an underworld, is about stereotypes, and does nothing to challenge them. A tourist who ne comprend pas French, Steve Buscemi gets sucked into the idea that modern young romance is sexist, contradictory, confusing, and thus can be used against the unassuming when a young dude threatens violence and his girlfriend's response is to kiss Buscemi, only to let her dude beat up Buscemi. And then she leaves with her dude. See how easily the Coen sensibility can be transported to the Paris Metro? How it can be translated into French? See how cinematic Paris is as a stage?

Paris, je t'aime is about "Paris." While some people may think the film strives to represent "real life" in Paris through the eyes of a collection of internationally-renowned directors, it's not about real life. It's about romance, and no place personifies romance better than Paris.

So, what would my short be, since I am a suburban Maryland filmmaker (among other kinds of filmmaker!)? Maybe my section would try to trace the historical connection between Paris and D.C. Not just through urban planning, but maybe it could focus on L'Enfant. Anyway, I'm not quite sure what it would be, but all I can say is, "Paris, je t'aime."

in defense of cavemen

I'm just going to come right out and say it: I love "Cavemen" (2007-present). I think it is one of the smartest shows on TV right now, a funny and engaging satire.

The show follows three cavemen roommates: Joel, the practical one with a homo sapien girlfriend and a job at an IKEA-like store; Andy, Joel's younger, impressionable brother; and Nick, a sarcastic grad student who's a bit of a separatist. Admittedly, Nick can be annoying, but he's the critical and cynical one of the group. Though he's sometimes wrong about other people, without his insights, you'd think cavemen really were stupid. He is, after all, the one who has to remind the others everything's about race, and without him it'd look like they never think about how they are treated in the media and in person-to-person interactions.

Now, about that controversy: I understand that the critics, who universally panned the show, reviewed a pilot that was not the same one that the general public saw when it premiered on October 2. I understand the makers, in response to the poor reception of the pilot, eliminated the racist jokes that implied the cavemen have experienced a history very much akin to that of African Americans. It didn't help that the original pilot set the scene in Atlanta. Now they're in sunny, Conservative-ladden San Diego. It's a good move, I think, though it sometimes feels more like LA than SD.

The critics didn't like this new refashioned show, from what I can tell, and no one I know besides my sister watches it. And I think the main reason why we like it is because it sophisticatedly engages in race studies, something we've explored due to being American Studies majors at university.

The four most recent episodes demonstrate this point best:

In "The Cavewoman," Nick dates an aggressive cavewoman called Heather who works in a frozen yogurt shop that resembles LA's Pinkberry chain. (Ah, but that is neither here nor there.) This episode is about masculinity caveman-style. Besides the fact that Heather is an utter bitch to everyone and completely dominates Nick, forcing him to put off breaking up with her as long as possible he's so scared, Heather makes the remaining two thirds of the trio feel less like (cave)men. She grills Joel on dating a homo sapien (something Nick does all the time), and she humiliates Andy for not calling her girlfriend for a date. Heather is the first cavewoman to be glimpsed in the show, appearing only in the third installment, and she stands in as a funny contrast to the cavemen, though presumably not all cavewomen are like Heather!

"The Mascot" is far more topical, as it relates to Nick's stint as a substitute teacher at a high school whose mascot is, you guessed it, a caveman. When he goes to the school's administration to explain why this is wrong and politically incorrect, he's met with, "Oh, yes, I know exactly what you mean." But the principal doesn't even care. In the end, Nick fights the oversized mascot, and in the process perpetuates the inaccurate stereotype by beating the guy with a (plush) log. Such a premise for this episode is meant to show how images of a (minority) group of people, accepted by the larger society, are at once challenged and reinforced by the minority group in question. What a vicious circle.

My favorite episode so far has been "The Shaver," which recalls narratives of racial passing (see either version of Imitation of Life [1934, 1959] for more info). While Joel becomes more and more under the influence of a crackpot motivational speaker, Nick and Andy seek to expose the crackpot as a hypocritical caveman because he has a strange all-over body stubble and protruding brow. Of course it all explodes at the end. The guy denies it and is caught saying something racist. He's a self-hating caveman! Plus, the trio's love of John Tesh, apparently the most famous shaver, and their willingness to forgive him for trying to pass as a homo sapien is just hilarious! "You really think they could let a caveman on TV?" Nick rhetorically asks Andy.

This past week's "Rock Vote" was about the guys trying to find an ideal candidate, the politician who will best represent them in the state assembly. Turns out Joel's ideal candidate was just using them to get votes from other cavemen. And Nick's candidate--a caveman himself--was a total wacko. Ah, but it all gets resolved in the end when they all vote for Witherspoon, who until the end was never considered by any of them. For Joel and Nick it's about their crush on Reese, and for Andy, who for so long followed in Joel and Nick's footsteps to find someone to vote for, it's because he knows Witherspoon has the best ideas for all people in San Diego.

I've heard the criticism that they do not look enough like cavemen. They aren't hairy enough, apparently. I think this is easy to write off because they've been around for thousands of years. Surely if they existed today they'd have adapted like the rest of us. They don't need such thick fur nowadays. Others have complained that the show is hard to watch simply because they're ugly and difficult to even look at. I disagree, but I must admit, however, that I wish they'd wash their hair once and awhile.

I really haven't done the show justice. It's far more nuanced. And I think the reason why the critics detested this one (what with the Chicago Trib going so far as to call "Cavemen" one of the 25 worst TV shows ever and all), is because they are not trained cultural critics. But then again, watching a TV show and recognizing the racial discrimination many people in contemporary society have historically faced isn't hard. It's so easy a caveman does it all the time.

american psycho nightmare

This past week was very hectic. Chaotic even because having Stephanie here sent my routine into a sort of tailspin. See, the weekends are reserved for schoolwork. I don't have any other time during the week where I can get much work done. I prefer to get each thing done all at once, or at least as much as possible in one sitting.

In any case, I had a paper due Thursday for my race and nation in 20th century cinema class. I had written the better part of it on Saturday, and I sat down on Wednesday afternoon to rewrite it. (I'd read the draft before and hated it.) But I'm getting ahead of myself. It might help to explain what the paper is about.

Feeling uninspired by the films we've seen for the class, I chose to write about American Psycho (2000). And let me tell you I really resent that almost everyone I've talked to about the film with regards to the assignment did not think I could write about it, that race was not obvious. I had to tell them each time it was about whiteness. Patrick Bateman the Wall Street yuppie/serial killer has what I have vaguely called "a particular brand of whiteness," which is tied to his job, gender, sexuality, and conformity to yuppie culture. Through him, the point of my paper was to argue that the film (and Bret Easton Ellis's book on which the film is based) claim that capitalism is evil. His materialism has driven him mad; the only thing that fulfills him is his satiating his "nightly bloodlust." Just when you thought he was an oppressive bastard because of his job, he goes and KILLS people. The fucker.

Anyway, I rewrote the paper. Almost pulled an all-nighter, working till 3.15 am. (My friend tells me that it ain't an all-nighter till at least 5 am.) All night, I tossed and turned, thinking the paper was shit. I couldn't turn my mind off; I kept thinking of the teeniest, tiniest details to add but decided not to alter the paper in the morning, thinking such minutiae wouldn't help much. To make a long story short, I have been unable to stop thinking about this paper and its flaws.

I was so depressed I took a two-hour nap today after just being up for about two hours. During that nap, I realized the bit that would have--perhaps--greatly improved my argument. And it was something I had in my original draft: at the end of the film, after Bateman has realized that his identity as a serial killer is not going to be revealed (and probably never will be), then-President Ronald Reagan is on the TV, defending himself amidst the Iran-Contra Affair. If I had mentioned this in my paper, I could have linked the Reagan Administration's murderous hypocrisy. (The scandal revolved around the U.S. selling arms to enemy Iran and then using the profits to fund the Sandinistas in Nicaragua.) Bateman's conformity to what is expected of him as a rich, white, male yuppie and all-American boy and his secret homicidal crimes sort of mirror the Scandal. If only I had mentioned this in my paper; then surely I'd get more points for discussing the historical contexts of the film. Damnit.

By the way, thinking and writing about the film and considering the book throughout this process frightened me a bit when I went to bed Wednesday night in the wee hours of the morning. I haven't scared myself in a long while. The last time I really worked myself up to a fright was thinking about an old and decrepit Howard Hughes.

wish you were (t)here already

Why does Netflix think I am going to hate Blame It On Fidel (2006)? It seems really cute!

I just added it to the top of my queue (it's getting released Tuesday) so that while Stephanie is here, we can watch it together. She is currently without Netflix, what with all her cross-country flying and all within the past couple of weeks. She actually requested this film, so I'm giving it to her. And I have to watch Falling Down (1993) for class. The third film we're getting, unless she says anything in a post-it, is A Good Year (2006). Thought she'd like it since she's such a romantic comedy nut and a sucker for anything that takes place in France.

I'm a member of the latter group myself.

happy birthday mathieu amalric

Jesus. You'd think all I do is wish people happy birthday. To be fair, there isn't a day that goes by that isn't the birthday of someone. It just so happens that a lot of the people I want to wish a happy birthday are born round the same time of the year. But that really is neither here nor there.

Now, if you remember, Mathieu is someone I love to watch. He's not in my triumvirate, but he's pretty damn close. I mean, maybe it should be a club of four, a gang of four, not one of the big three.

Now, like all the rest, before I tell you why I love watching Mathieu, let me give a little historical context. I think the first film I saw him in was André Téchiné's Alice et Martin (1998). He played Benjamin, the gay actor roommate to Juliette Binoche's musician Alice. He's also the half-brother to Martin, the emotionally unstable model who falls in love with Alice. This relationship is more complicated than it sounds because Benjamin is jealous of Martin's relationship with Alice. Suddenly she shares an emotional intimacy that Benjamin was previously only privy to. Beyond this, Mathieu, in his intensity and sense of humor as an actor, just steals the fuckin' show.

Now, I might have seen him in something else before Alice et Martin. Though I doubt it. Mathieu has such a presence that Alice et Martin, which I came upon by accident YEARS ago on Cinemax in the wee hours of the morning, is so ingrained in my memory. It's damn near impossible to get a hold of a copy, and I want to see it again really badly. (Can you say desperate?)

That's just it: Mathieu's intensity and sense of humor. That's what makes him extremely watchable. When I say "intensity," I don't mean it in a De Niro or Day-Lewis sort of way. What I mean is that Mathieu is very expressive in terms of gestures. He's often playing a neurotic, too. I identify with this. I once thought that if Woody Allen did a movie in France with French actors (possibly in French?), Allen should cast Mathieu as his surrogate in much the same way Kenneth Branagh and Will Ferrell have played convincing Woody Allens.

The thing is, in most of his performances, you can't easily separate his intense expressiveness and sense of humor, which is sarcastic and sometimes ironic. I know what you're thinking: it's the writing. Hell, it could even be the direction, but to say this would completely elide the significance of the performance, of the performer. Sorry, but what is written on the page--whether it's the directions for expressiveness or the sarcastic tone--are nothing without the actor as the transmitter of these ideas. In other words, Mathieu personifies a wide variety of characteristics in a way that is singularly his. It's hard to describe, but you know what to expect when you pop in a film of his, and then he still manages to surprise you because of his versatility and obvious intelligence. Nothing is easy or simple if Mathieu is playing in the film. I really mean that.

Recommended viewing: Kings and Queen (2004). A tour-de-force. He makes this otherwise overly melodramatic and somewhat boring film fascinating. Because you can't look away when he is on-screen. He also might be the best thing about Munich (2005) other than bad actor Eric Bana's sexiness. The ambiguity of his supporting character is so textured that Louis could have a film all to himself. Also, the single best exchange (perhaps scene) in Marie Antoinette (2006) involves Mathieu. He scares King Louis XVI, saying he'd love to pop Marie's cherry since the king ain't doing it... It's a funny scene, but I find it especially funny because it's Mathieu.

Upcoming obligatory viewing: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (2007). He plays the late editor of French Elle, Jean-Dominique Bauby, in Julian Schnabel's new (semi-unconventional) biopic. Bauby suffered a stroke at the age of 43 and it rendered him completely paralyzed, save for one of his eyes. He went on to blink--that's right, blink--his memoir, which was published either a few days before he died or a few days after he died. Need to see this because I'm sure that Mathieu's qualities as an actor that I've just described are there despite Bauby's paralysis.

On a slightly different note, my father just popped in to say goodnight. He asked what I am blogging about. When I told him, he said, "Geez, you write about these people and they don't even know you exist!" Is that the point? I defended my act by saying that once "these people" have made something and put it out there for consumption, it doesn't matter that they don't who every consumer is. This really is just my way of expressing gratitude. I'm thanking people whose work I appreciate. It's the polite thing to do, innit?

happy birthday danny boyle

The Master of Image & Sound. One of my favorite directors. You deserve a long post about what your work means to me, but I haven't the time right now. I am going to a radical bookfair in Baltimore today. I haven't been to B-more in years.

is drag always queer?

I'm currently looking up books to add to the bibliography for my thesis. I typed in the keyword "drag" and the results are a combination of three things: what I am looking for (stuff about drag queens and kings), drag racing, and anything else that has "drag" or "dragged" in the title, such as "Look What the Cat Dragged In!"

Ironic, no? Drag queens and drag racing.

up-to-date randomity

1.) Anyone else think The Primitives "Crash" should have played throughout the end credits of Crash (2004)? It'd have been funny, and perhaps we'd like something about the movie then.

2.) I just recognized there aren't many words with three Us in them. Isn't that unusual?

3.) Anyone else underwhelmed by the films currently out? Will the movie season get any better? Eh. I'm eagerly anticipating I'm Not There (2007) because you know how I hate the conventional biopic; Control (2007) because it's about Joy Division and I want to see how it compares to 24 Hour Party People (2002); and Atonement (2007) because... well, for obvious reasons.

4.) I came out as queer to a class I was teaching, about the diversity of LGBT people, cultures, and issues. My fellow Q&A panelists weren't expecting it, but I don't think they were shocked.

5.) I don't want to wait till next fuckin' summer for the second season of "Mad Men" (2007-present). Tuesday means the season finale of the other show I have been committed to watching since its premiere: "Damages" (2007-present). 'Bout time. It's a bit too drawn out. But I like it.

6.) "Pushing Daisies" (2007-present) is too cute for words. I want the complete series of "Wonderfalls" (2004) on DVD. Right now.

happy birthday steve coogan

If you remember, Steve Coogan is in the triumvirate of people who I really like to watch. That makes me sound like a big fat voyeur, like a perv, but film is voyeuristic. I don't need to get into any psychoanalytical theories of cinema. It's neither here nor there.

Anyway, Steve Coogan is fun to watch because he's funny. This is probably one of the most obvious things someone can say about him. That is, if they even like him and/or what he puts out into the world. However, it's a bit more difficult for me to articulate why I think he is so funny. It just seems to me that his sense of humor is much more layered, textured, than we are accustomed to.

If we look at his most famous creation, Alan Partridge (who, it should be noted, may be the result of a collaboration among Coogan, Peter Baynham, and Armando Iannucci), we see a middleaged radio disc jockey who used to be famous and who still thinks he is famous. At least he wants more than what he's got following the cancellation of his talk show. We might see that he's an idiot, a fool, a bit of a social retard, a racist, a sexist. I understand he is hard to watch for some people because he is so inappropriate, offensive, and stupid. In fact, it is his ignorance that is most offensive.

More than this though, there is something else going on with Alan. He's middleaged. Divorced. His wife is sleeping with a new, young lover. He has a son called Fernando (big ABBA fan) that doesn't like him. He lives in a hotel off the motorway for fuck's sake. His personal assistant is his only real friend and it's never certain that she even likes him. She can't possibly like working for him. He doesn't need a personal assistant, really. She's filling another void for him. The staff of the hotel enjoy ridiculing him behind his back while just barely tolerating him when they're face-to-face. I am not suggesting that the staff is morally reprehensible for being so two-faced, so disingenuous. He probably deserves it. But on top of all of this, he wants more than to be a radio personality In Norwich. He's not really fit for that sort of work anyway; his taste in music is questionable. Elitists wouldn't approve of his easy-listening playlists. But Alan's not fit for TV, either. But he doesn't get it.

And then there is this show we're watching, what someone might call a sitcom, though I would disagree with that label. Yes, there may be a laugh track and perhaps the subplot in the grand scheme of Alan's narrative arc resolves itself in 22 minutes, but it's just that: his narrative arc which I briefly described in the previous paragraph already gives Alan more texture than most sitcoms, which are loosely tied together episodes in the characters' lives. "I'm Alan Partridge" (1997, 2002) is more like a mini-series in that way. Plus Alan isn't confined to a set.

In any case, I've described a character that doesn't sound like he belongs in a comedy. But he is. And there's something to be said for painting such a depressing portrait of a man and ridiculing him. It's easiest to laugh at his stupidity, but really you just pity him. Brilliant. Which other character on TV is so simple-minded given his dark, complex circumstances?

So obviously, when I watch that particular show or anything else that Steve has done, I see Alan. Perhaps what is so interesting about Steve is how his gift for impersonations and character development sort of serves as an impediment to understanding "the real Steve Coogan." What I mean is that we so often mistake his characters for the actor, the performer, himself. For instance, there have been some who believe his brilliant turn in 24 Hour Party People (2002) as the late TV personality/journalist Tony Wilson was just him playing Alan again. I'm not going to get into the reasons why this is not true (I don't want to write a comparative study of "Alan" and "Tony"). Of course there is the possibility of seeing Alan in Tony. They're both played by Steve. His physical appearance, despite the assistance of some makeup and wigs, doesn't change all that much. Some mannerisms might be the same because, again, it's Steve. Both men are usually misunderstood, too into their own heads (and egos).

I appreciate Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story (2005) mostly for its being a rumination on celebrity, performance, and authenticity. Steve, of course, is not the only actor playing "himself" here. Rob Brydon matches him, but I'm not sure Rob has a history of celebrity quite like Steve's, so Rob playing himself doesn't come off the same way. And why should it? They're two different people. And even if their on-screen personas in this film are nothing like who they really are, it doesn't really matter. Their on-screen dynamic works. (Of course I should admit that when I watch Tristram Shandy, I see the rivalry between Steve's Tony Wilson and Rob's Ryan Letts from Party People play out, as a sort of background to their performances as rivals.)

Tristam Shandy may be about a film crew trying to adapt Laurence Sterne's unfilmmable though highly cinematic novel into a film. But there is more to it because it's about "the actor Steve Coogan." It glimpses him through various lenses: Steve as the gossip rag fodder, the actor known for his previous performances, the aspiring family man, the comedic rival, the artist philosopher, the man approaching middle age who has body issues and sexually frustrating encounters. Of course not everything here is true. It's the engagement of these themes from Steve Coogan's life that makes the film so interesting. Listening to the audio commentary by Steve and Rob on the DVD only adds more layers.

This is why Steve is fun to watch. As a chameleon who never quite sheds his skin completely with each new role, he defies being pigeonholed. He constantly tries new things (see Happy Endings [2005] and Around the World in 80 Days [2004] for more information). He constantly pokes fun at himself (in addition to Tristram, there is Coffee and Cigarettes [2003], and his conversation with Alfred Molina is the best of the little vignettes). While engaging with the constant construction of his persona, he seems candid, but he also keeps you as the viewer at a distance.

As an enigma, he's fun to watch. So happy birthday to him.

he's got a lust for life

Last week it was Hitchcock. Tonight it was Trainspotting (1996). Anyone else notice the very blatant references to that oh-so-favorite film of mine in the new, second episode of the very ridiculous "Chuck" (2007-present)? As if "Lust for Life" and running/chasing after someone (yeah, in the parking lot) weren't enough, they had to go and let Chuck fall back like Renton does in the very beginning. Only for Chuck it ain't heroin; it's the U.S. government's "secrets" that makes him fall back, straight down on his heels.

happy birthday communist china

You're 58 years old today. Funny, you don't look a day over six milennia old.

it ain't no chick flick

I understand it's been about four months since it hit theatres, but I finally saw Knocked Up (2007). In general, I liked it. It was very funny and made me feel warm and fuzzy. I do not think it is as hilarious as everyone (read: Stephanie) has told me. I really didn't like Judd Apatow's most recent effort as writer-director: The 40-Year-Old Virgin. But Knocked Up, I agree, is a whole lot better. It's believable, where Steve Carell as a virgin is not. But that is neither here nor there.

I wanted to post about Knocked Up because I appreciated its attempts to reinvent the romantic comedy genre. While I find it very successful in the ways which I will soon point out below, I still must refer to them as "attempts" because the film did not work to completely overhaul the genre. Not since Shakespeare in Love (1998) has there been a clever reworking of the romantic comedy.

These are what I picked out as nice little spices to the formula:

1.) The PREMISE itself. There have been some movies about one-night stands. Better Than Sex (2000) comes to mind. But I mean even more generally there is a very important plot point in films where a one-night stand figures prominently, as in: the guy finds out he's a dad sometime during the film. Such as Big Daddy (1999).

Anyway, this film starts with a drunken night of sex, an awkward morning-after, and then the decision to raise a kid together. After they've ruled out abortion, they go one step further in their plans: they figure they've seven months (at that point) to get to know each other. So that neither is raising the baby with a complete stranger. And they unexpectedly fall in love. I understand this "they unexpectedly fall in love" makes it sound like Pride & Prejudice (see any version), but I think using that wonderful convention and twisting it a bit because of the premise (an unwanted pregnancy) is very clever.

2.) There's NO CHASE. You know how much I hate those damn things. With less than five minutes left of the screentime, the guy or girl realizes he or she wants to be with the other so much they literally race against the clock--whether it's through traffic in downtown Manhattan or London or on the highway on a bridge--to get to his or her beloved. It's unrealistic, especially the ones where weddings are crashed. I especially hate the ones where they have to race to the airport before the lover boards a plane, usually out of the country! But I digress.

Knocked Up conforms to the formula in that they have a fight in the middle of their relationship. Seth Rogen as slacker-stoner Ben Stone doesn't chase after Katherine Heigl's TV-reporter Alison Scott. He just waits for them both to cool off a bit and then goes to her niece's birthday party with the hope of explaining himself to Alison. She rejects him again, but eventually they get together, when their baby comes.

3.) There's NO REAL LADYFRIEND SIDEKICK. At first I found it really strange and interesting that Alison, a successful young woman with her head on her shoulders, wasn't spending most of her on-screen time away from Ben with a group of girlfriends a la "Sex and the City" (1998-2004). You know, getting advice and talking about vibrators. Whatever. The usually multiracial circle of ladyfriends is really tired, and it is such an old convention that the ladyfriends really feel like a waste of time and energy, like they're always just standing in the background. None--aside from the show previously mentioned--are as well developed as the leading lady.

I know what you're thinking: what about Debbie (Leslie Mann), Alison's sister? Well, yes, she is Alison's friend and source of guidance, but she's got her own storyline, which is sometimes humorous and sometimes a bit heartbreaking. What is not advertised for the film is the meaty subplot revolving around Debbie's marriage to Pete (sexy Paul Rudd; wait till you see him in a suit!). Alison (and sometimes Ben) are often Debbie's sidekicks when she deals with her problems. There are reciprocities in their relationships that you don't often see between the leads and the supporting characters in romantic comedies. For that, Knocked Up gets some brownie points, especially since it made me like Leslie Mann (for more info, see: Big Daddy [1999] and The Cable Guy [1996]).

I'm sure there are other things, but I can't think of any others right now. I'm opening it up and asking for your observations: how does Knocked Up try to reinvent the romantic comedy?

But here are some of the bits I didn't like:

1.) Ben's slackerdom and slacker friends. I didn't find his roommates very funny. Crude humor isn't my thing, really, so I found other bits much more entertaining. Ben's being a pothead didn't endear me to him either. I sort of wish he hadn't been a stoner-slacker. Perhaps it would have been funnier if he actually had a job (not white collar) and fewer roommates who try to steal the attention with their crude jokes.

2.) It's really dated. There are so many references to very current pop culture (such as Spider-Man 3 [2007]) that Knocked Up will forever be placed in that 2007 time capsule of pop culture, in the context of the rise of the Apatow comedy entourage. However, I should say I LOVED the Back to the Future (1985) reference, especially since Alison didn't get it at the time.

3.) Its length. Is it really necessary to have a semi-gross out comedy that runs over two hours? Then again, perhaps this subverts the (romantic) comedy genre, too. I should note that Apatow is not the first to do this. The Brothers Farrelly did it first.

life as prosthetic memory

I think I have mentioned before that I am behind in my reading for some of my classes. I've caught up for my "Race and Nation in Twentieth Century US Cinema" class, which is very good news. On the other hand, I have yet to receive from the on-campus bookstore my textbooks for my "Sexuality in the Cinema" class. But that is neither here nor there.

Today I started reading Alison Landsberg's Prosthetic Memory: The Transformation of American Remembrance in the Age of Mass Culture for the US Cinema course. Very interesting. Landsberg defines "prosthetic memory"--and I'm paraphrasing here--as the site where an individual comes face-to-face with an historical narrative that the individual did not directly experience or live through. These historical narratives can be from another time or even ones that mainly just affected people of another race, class, gender, nationality, etc. Anyway, at this moment of confrontation, the person does not just understand the moment's significance, she also absorbs it as a sort of past experience that occupies for her as equal a space in her memory as any event in her archive of actual personal experiences. This sort of memory is important not just because it allows for the historical narrative or event to shape the individual's outlook and "subjectivity," it also allows for empathy.

Landsberg argues that films and experiential museums are the sites where such memory-making moments occur. This is why we're reading it for the class; to see how films can physically and emotionally move audiences to believe they are experiencing an historical moment that they themselves never actually experienced. OK. An example: the Holocaust. There are numerous films about this important event in history, and certainly not all the people who saw Schindler's List (1993) or Life is Beautiful (1997) were Jewish. If these films are filed in a viewer's memory regardless of her race, ethnicity, religion, age, gender, and so on then she may later recall the events depicted in these films, for instance, and confuse them as real events she lived through or experienced. The realism of the cinematic medium can blur the line between what is real and what is imagined, what is "authentic" and what is "inauthentic." Of course, I don't mean that Landsberg actually thinks someone can feel themselves a Holocaust victim or survivor based on seeing one film; what I mean to say is that as viewers we may imagine a past historical event as how we remember seeing it enacted in a film. And because of this, we are more likely to empathize with those who actually experienced it. Not to mention, we're also likely to identify with people who had a similar experience watching the film; we recognize we're similar because we have new "prosthetic memories."

The book is fascinating, and it got me thinking a lot since Landsberg started to deconstruct what she meant by "prosthetic memories" through using modern sci-fi epics Blade Runner (1982) and Total Recall (1990). To start there simply because sci-fi as a genre allows for an imagined future where anything is possible and where memory plays a different role in forming people's identities--as is the case in these two films--wasn't enough of a sell for me. I tried to think of other genres and films where "prosthetic memories" play a central role. And I've thought of three.

The most obvious one being Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004). Without going into too much detail about the film because I assume you've seen it, recall how Jim Carrey is racing against the clock to salvage memories before they are taken away from him. To hold onto Kate Winslet, the crazy girlfriend he would rather not forget after all, he decides to take her to memories where she did not appear. In this way, she experiences his boyhood memories of being picked on, watching from under the table an attractive friend of his mother's, and bathing in the kitchen sink. Not only can this change his memory of these past events in his life (now boyhood isn't so lonely), she has also taken on memories of times when she didn't know him and these memories of his have become hers too, informing her perspective on him, her life, and love.

The next example I thought of was Before Sunset (2004). The one-time lovers Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy reflect during this chance meeting in Paris on their affair through Vienna nine years before, as chronicled in Before Sunrise (1995). They also explicitly discuss how this chance meeting can change their memory of the past. For instance, as Delpy's Celine points out, he can no longer go on thinking his return to Vienna was an awful experience. After all, it was fodder for his first bestselling novel. Let's face it: if they had met, perhaps his book would have a different ending. His not knowing what kept her led him to leave the book open-ended because he didn't even want to imagine what an ending to their romance would be like.

But, knowing her reason for not turning up to their planned reunion changes his memory of the event. For it's now likely that he will forever connect her not showing up in Vienna to their chance meeting in Paris where they were able to discuss all sorts of things.

More to the point, the realism and the unique narrative structure (just fly-on-the-wall views of a long, intimate conversation between two strangers-turned-lovers in Sunrise and one between two past lovers in Sunset) allow the viewer to develop a "prosthetic memory" of their rendezvous. More specifically, Before Sunset invites the audience to remember the prequel through splicing scenes from Sunrise into the moments where Hawke's Jesse recognizes Celine. Their conversation that stretches out along the winding backstreets of Paris and along the Seine returns again and again to the topic of their meeting and falling in love. I think that through their words it is possible to follow their love story even if the viewer has never seen Before Sunrise. Since I saw Sunrise before Sunset, every time I watch Sunset, as they talk about the night in Vienna, I am reminded of the actual events that took place in Sunrise. The acting and writing are so superb in each that the film can and does lead one to believe they are real people. This is an effect of "prosthetic memory," I think; Jesse and Celine are real lovers. I remember them meeting in Vienna and later in Paris.

My last example is Zelig (1983). I just saw it last night for the first time. I thought it was absolutely brilliant. It satirizes society through examining in the best mockumentary fashion a human chameleon (Woody Allen as Leonard Zelig). Not only is he present for many historical moments in the 1920s and 30s, hobnobbing with the rich and famous and the regular Joes, he also takes on their physical and emotional characteristics while he is with them. He is able to fool people into thinking he is Native American, for example, because he looks and he acts like he is. Talk about "authenticity"! Talk about extreme empathy! (It's not exactly sympathy because none of his identities is permanent and thus his identities can be thought of as transient, always changing. He has no permanent self from which he can be sympathetic to one group or another all the time as the groups he assumes may be in conflict with each other.)

Then a love interest enters the story in the form of psychiatrist Eudora Fletcher (Mia Farrow). She attempts to cure him of this psychological disorder, concerned he is being taken advantage of by the media. She also wants him to develop a personality of his own.

In any case, a fascination with this period of American history had to have been one of the contributing factors for Allen's making this film. Casting himself in the role of Zelig allows him to play around with history, to imagine how his infamously neurotic self would interact with the times. Of course the story is completely fictional; it is not as if he has transferred any real story or real experience of his to this time. But, fundamentally, the film shows what it is like to insert yourself into all the historical events you wished you saw, strung together by a seemingly ridiculous but ultimately insightful narrative. In other words, the film represents a reclamation of collective history and memory and illuminates how the collective memory of history is subjective and "prosthetic."

kick out your tv

Well, I have gone and done it. After months of talking about it, after weeks of sitting on the fence about it and feeling ashamed that it never looked like I was going to, I have moved the TV out of my room.

What? Were you expecting me to say that I got a tattoo?

Feeling daunted by all the reading I have to complete this week and realizing this amount of work is only likely to continue, I decided the only way I was going to get done what I needed to was if I simulated as closely as possible my room in England. No, I didn't move around any furniture, but I figured that if I could live/survive without a TV for eight months, I could do it here, too. After all, there are TVs everywhere in this house and I happen to live with two people who like to keep them on especially when they are not in the same room as they TV they profess to be in control of. Yes, this means that their noises might hamper my plans on having quiet, reading-full days. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

I have resolved to limit my hours of TV to no more than a couple hours a day. And I really shouldn't watch TV during the day. Evenings can be for relaxation if I am productive during the day. Hopefully these plans will go so well that I will feel motivated to work on studying for the GRE and preparing grad school applications. (Where am I applying, first of all?)

I'll keep you updated on my progress.

the worst toilet in ikea?

I had the strangest dream last night.

It was winter. We were all in our heavy coats and sweaters. I was with my father, brother, and sister meeting family friends for lunch. This part of the dream was not the most important part. At least, the lunch started in medias res. So I don't know who exactly we were meeting. I didn't get a good look at their faces.

As we were getting in the car, I realized that I should probably use the restroom. It was a long ride home and we were likely to get caught in traffic. Instead of going to use the facilities at the diner, I decided to go to the furniture and housewares store next door. Knowing how much they hate it whenever I say I need to pee, I vowed to try to make their wait for me as quick and as painless as possible.

There is no name for this store because it doesn't actually exist. The best way I can describe it now is that it was unbelievably huge. It looked like an upscale IKEA, perhaps like Habitat only much, much bigger. And as I went through it trying to locate the bathroom, it unfolded and unfolded in a bizarre fantasy and adventure video game sort of way.

As soon as I entered, I looked about and found a place in the back of the main room where all the women were standing outside a door. "Women" was labeled on the door. I waited, chattering my teeth. When I finally got in, when a cubicle was available for me, I realized it was a shower. I looked around and saw that the bathroom was even bigger than I originally thought, with more stalls and even rows of women in black bathing suits getting pedicures. I ditched the room without really wondering why this sort of thing existed in a furniture and housewares store. I went about looking for the toilet again.

I climbed through themed room after themed room. I even asked employees where I could find it. I followed each one's directions to a tee, but each time I found nothing. It was like a maze. I felt like every room opened up into another, putting the toilet further and further out of reach for me. It was like being stuck in Harrod's. People everywhere. But no room was as garishly decorated and there weren't multiple levels. My search for the toilet took place on mainly one level, but sometimes it was split.

Eventually, after what seemed like thirty minutes to me (was this a lucid dream?), I asked the last salesperson, and she could sense the desperation in my voice. That and I think I was probably sweating. She took me directly to this really high white shelving unit. About two feet above my head was a toaster labeled "Women." That's seriously all I saw. I pushed the button down, the same way you would push the bread slices into the toaster and wait for them to pop up. Then a tall cabinet the size of an airplane toilet appeared inside the shelving unit. I didn't want to go inside. I mean, I couldn't even get up in it, for it was raised at least two feet off the ground.

And that's where my dream ends. Sort of. No, I didn't piss my pants. And I never got in the box. I must have blinked here. I don't remember what I did to relieve myself. All I can remember is walking back to the car as soon as I could find my way out of the store. My family was pissed I took so long. I didn't tell them I didn't even go.

What does this mean? Am I afraid of peeing? Of not being able to pee? Or, rather, not peeing able to find a toilet? This is not news to me. I have always felt this way, which is why I have always "gone before leaving home" without even the insistence of my mother.

Does the peeing stand in for something else?

which african tribe are you?

I just wrote an email to a family friend and mentioned that I needed to watch The Birth of a Nation (1915) for a class this week. Flanking my message in Gmail were adverts for online counseling to help you trace your genealogy back to African tribes such as the Zulu, Hutu, and Berber.

in a couple of hours

I will be on my way to California. It's nine o'clock and I have to be up by three to catch a plane at six in the morning. I hope I wake up in time. I know what you're thinking, but I'll just keep thinking: "I'll be in LA soon."

my eyes are ready to pop out

I have cried so much today. All because of words.

I don't mean that my tears have challenged the whole "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" thing. I'm not talking about insults. Instead, as I chose my words very carefully and listened much more closely than I usually do (which is close), I couldn't help but notice the power of words. I called someone out on what he had said (and had not said) earlier in the day, when he did not come to my defense as I was being attacked by someone much more close-minded than I am.

I explained to this friend who "disappointed" me that just the utterances of words, though they are just a combination of sounds with meaning, carry extra weight, especially in situations where you want to hear someone as clearly as possible so as to better understand what is happening.

What has happened to me today--hell, even for the past couple of weeks--has made me cry, but it's the way everything is delivered with cutting words, a sharp tongue. Diction and the expanse of one's lexicon has never been so significant. They're so influential they have made me cry. Over and over. Because people continue to hurt each other with what they say whether or not what they say is what they mean.

if you can hear me, you're listening

On Monday, I spent five hours in my local public library. I needed to get out of the house for the sake of my sanity. My happiness even. As you probably already know, the work round the house has been very time- and energy-consuming. I think it's about time it stopped. Others seem to disagree. That's one of the many reasons I had to get out of the house and find something more personally constructive to do.

Funny thing is, I worked at one of those cubicle desks. I mean, I've never been a fan of those. I always thought I would feel really claustrophobic, essentially boxed in on three sides. But I wasn't. And it was incredibly quiet in that room. So many people came and went but hardly made a peep. I only noticed them if they slipped into my peripheral vision.

I started the hours in the library by writing in my film journal about five films. Then I started looking over stuff about grad school. In the end, I did a lot of preliminary brainstorming for grad school applications, even with the help of the very basic chapters on grad school in my GRE review book. One bit of advice in that book inspired me to really think about "the accomplishments that best demonstrate [my] abilities."

Obviously, I wrote about being selected for the university exchange program and subsequently studying abroad at Lancaster University. But then I wandered onto thinking about something else I have done: host a radio program. I never reflected so much on that experience as I did on Monday, and quite articulately and eloquently, I must say. Now I'm just embarrassed. And I probably won't be able to use any of it.

In my stream-of-consciousness notes, I admitted that it was an unconventional accomplishment to demonstrate my abilities, but it allowed me to express myself in a new way--almost anonymously, with no idea of what impact it made on the days or lives of other people, with unfamiliar technology. More than this though, I recognized in hindsight just how the radio show represents the site where many of my interests converged: music, film, personal vs. collective history/memory, place. Not to mention, "I see [the show] as an extension of me that I put out into the world, and I'm so glad I did put myself out there--in at least one way."

At the top of the page, I wrote that these words that flew out of my mind and splattered on the paper constituted "the most surprising--and perhaps most useless--thing I did today." I wouldn't call it useless now. After all, it helped me see that often boring and tedious experience from my life in a new light.

happy birthday me

Thought I should say something.

happy birthday kevin mckidd

This is possibly the strangest celebrity birthday, as it falls two days before my own. Not only does Kevin share this day with a truckload of other famous people--from Whitney Houston to Eric Bana--he also shares it with my grandmother. She'd be 85 today if she were still alive. Please don't get me wrong: I've thought a lot about her today. I just don't have any vivid enough memories of her to recount here because she died when I was five. Kevin, on the other hand, I have plenty of memories of, and I don't even know him. Is that not the magic of the movies? People sweep into your life when you see them once or twice and then you follow their career. And you may not even follow them consciously.

Like many other people, I first saw Kevin in Trainspotting (1996), his first or second film role. And as you know, I have a very special and ineffable relationship with this film. I was ten when I first saw this picture about heroin junkies in Edinburgh. All the bad words (if you could understand them). All the sex. All the drugs. All the Iggy Pop.

I suppose the easiest way to define what I mean by "relationship" with this film is that it is the first that really made an impression on me. It was the strangest thing: I got the humor. I understood the accents. I understood what I thought to be the film's message. As I grew older and my appreciation grew and grew, I started to appreciate it for its cinematic qualities. And for that I tip my hat to Danny Boyle, to this day one of my favorite directors. I call him the Master of Image and Sound because of his poetic-like ability to couple the two so well.

OK, getting back to Kevin: Tommy was always my favorite character. People may prefer Renton because he is the one who is most sympathetic, the one whose eyes you see this universe through. Or Sick Boy because he's so charismatic. Or Spud because he's a bit aloof. Or Begbie because he's unpredictable, and even though an asshole: he's funny.

Me? I have always loved Tommy because he's so unlike them. He's a good guy. A nice, honest, and decent fellow. One of the mysteries of life is: "Why the fuck is Thomas McKenzie friends with the rest? Especially Begbie, who just scares the shit out of him." How can you not feel bad and embarrassed when he loses his girlfriend over Renton's invasion of privacy? And then it starts his downward spiral, starting from obsessive love, to drug addiction, to an AIDS diagnosis, and finally ending at death. Every time I cry because Tommy is the one whose loss is felt the most, the hardest.

Kevin, I recognize, has made plenty more films, and I have seen most of them. While I may be suggesting that his association with the character of Tommy is why I still pay attention to his career (that doesn't say much because I care about everyone's career, even the ones of people I don't like to watch), I pay attention to him because I like him. He's in that category of people I find fun to watch. He keeps such company as Steve Coogan, Bill Nighy, Mathieu Amalric, Mads Mikkelsen, Romain Duris, Rhys Ifans, Kelly Macdonald, Shirley Henderson, Michael Sheen, Alan Cumming, Marton Csokas, Tom Hollander, and Paul Rudd among others. These are people so fascinating with (almost) every character they play that I have to see everything they do. It's as simple as this: I will never turn down an opportunity to see any of these guys. Kevin is in this group, and he's at the top of the list.

There have been so many movies I have seen just because he is in them. Particularly Dog Soldiers (2002). As you know, I don't care for horror films, but because he was in it, I thought he could elevate it. He did. I mean, I enjoyed it enough. I don't particularly care for Douglas McGrath's adaptation of Nicholas Nickleby (2002), mainly because of the casting decision to give Charlie Hunnam the lead. But for those few moments Kevin (and Alan Cumming) are on screen, my face lights up.

But Kevin, I'm sorry to say, has made a few duds. I absolutely hated De-Lovely (2004), but this was not his fault. I mainly blame the writer, director, and star Kevin Kline. Thankfully, there have been more times that Kevin makes me smile (or smirk, as with "Rome" [2005-2007]) than there have been times where I want to turn the TV off.

When I watch him now, sometimes I am reminded of his Tommy performance. Or, rather, I am reminded of how my watching him started around then. But in general, I don't really think about Trainspotting too much. Which is hard to do, considering he has undergone a transformation a la Christian Bale. He once was a thin and lanky guy, now he's so buff he'll probably be cast as a superhero in whatever comic they're adapting for the screen next.

Which brings me to my next point. Kevin has been cast as the lead in an American TV series, "Journeyman" (2007-present). If you ask me, it looks a lot like "Quantum Leap" (1989-1993). But that is neither here nor there. I'll watch it. You know I will. Because I care.

Now, today, I was a bit surprised that the IMDb listed him on the front page as having a birthday today. Granted, he was the last in the list. But I wasn't too surprised because "Rome" was a sort of a hit for HBO and a lot of people bemoaned its demise. Looking at his filmography, I was then surprised by the message boards proclaiming so many fans. All of them seemed to have "fallen in love" with him because of the series. None really mentioned being introduced to him via Trainspotting so many years ago. Of course this made me feel good, as if I made the discovery earlier. But who cares, right?

I feel the need to respond indirectly to the comments on the message boards. Yes, I find him attractive, but it is strange because he is not traditionally my type. For starters, he is blond. And well, now he's huge and "fit as fuck," as one poster said. He's got beautiful blue eyes (who could resist those?). But for me, the most attractive quality is, well, I think he has the sexiest Scottish accent I've ever heard. I understand most find the Scottish brogue sexy, but his is unlike any other Scottish actor they all go goo-goo-ga-ga over. (I say this because these message board loiterers describe his being Scottish sexy in itself. These people probably think they all wear kilts everyday, too.) Plus, I know a shitload about Scotland. It's an obsession I have Trainspotting to thank for. More than this, it's his voice.

Yeah, so, I think my triumvirate of people I love to watch goes as follows: Steve Coogan, Bill Nighy, and Kevin McKidd. And you can put them in any order you like.

the little envelope that could

I have no idea what marks I earned at Lancaster. I've been checking my unofficial transcript online everyday to see if they've been transferred and made available for my viewing. Nope.

So imagine my surprise today when I received an envelope in the mail from Lancaster University. Still no grades, but it was a check for £58.10. I have no idea why. I hope I can deposit it.

What cracks me up even more is the handwritten mailing address on the envelope. I just don't know how it got here when it only has my name, street address, town, and country labeled on it. No state. No zip-code. I imagine it took a long time to get here.

love means having to say you're sorry

I fear my greatest passion is in jeopardy. As if it's slowly becoming extinct. It's still in full force in my life, but I just know that it's going to gradually slip away soon. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I need to start someplace else.

My greatest passion, as you know, of course, is film. Just look to the right. There are 63 posts about film in my archives.

Now, now, when I write that film is in jeopardy, I do not mean the industry is in jeopardy. (Some might disagree with me there.) What I mean is that I'm not so sure it's going to be a daily fixture in my life for much longer. And here's why:

I've already resolved to move my TV out of my room as soon as school starts. I want to take this measure so that I can concentrate on my schoolwork. This includes my regular assignments for my classes and all the reading, thinking, and writing I must do for my thesis. I figure getting rid of the TV means I won't be so distracted. Because, as you know, it's very easy for me to put in a DVD and sit back and relax. Or is it?

It's not that easy after all, I think. For me, anyway. I keep a film journal, where I write about my experience and interpretation of every film I see for the first time (or the first time in a long time). I have OCD. I must write about the movie. I know that the world will not end if I don't, but I can't not document something that important to me.

Usually, I give myself a day to write about it, but I haven't written about the last eleven movies I've seen, starting with Manhattan (1979) which I saw on July 22nd. I've penned in the films' names (in their original language), year of release, and director on the pages I hope to fill, but I have yet to write about them. And it's driving me crazy. So crazy that I want to slow down watching movies so that I don't end up with twenty movies to write about. Yes, that's right. I said, "I want to slow down watching movies."

But why am I going at such a speed, you ask? Well, I've been renting five to six movies a week from the library. I request online some of the most obscure shit in the catalogue so I hardly have to wait to pick them up at my local library. To make a long story short, before yesterday, I had fourteen movies waiting for me. I have to strategically rent them. This means I end up watching some movies first before I rent the ones I really want to see because they came in later and thus will be on hold for me longer.

In any case, with all the work going on at the house, I can barely get through all five or six movies a week. And the recent upsurge of movies available for my viewing pleasure has really annoyed not only my father but myself. He has requested that I "take it easy with the movies." I agreed that I won't request more for a long time. So this means that gradually the screening of new movies (to me) will die out.

This is perfect. It goes along with what I have planned about getting the TV out of my room. I just don't know which will happen first: the removal of the TV or the dearth of library movies available for me to rent.

I'm sorry.

yeah, i found it too

do you see it, too?

Just watched Time to Leave (2005). It was the first time Melvil Poupaud reminded me of Gavin Rossdale, my first rock star crush. I dunno how to describe it, but it's something in the shape of their mouths and jaws. In any case, as I have matured, my tastes in men have changed. Thus, I find Melvil much more attractive than I find Gavin now. I don't even think about Gavin anymore. Besides, it doesn't hurt that Melvil's also French.

happy birthday rhys ifans

Stephanie's taken a page out of my book and has already gone and wished Albert Brooks a happy 60th birthday. Doesn't mean I can't, too, I know. So happy birthday, Alby.

Truth is, so many people were born today. And it hit me last night as I went to bed at two in the morning. "Franka Potente is 33 today. And a boatload of other people celebrate their birthday today, too."

My favorite, of course, is Rhys Ifans. He's too cool. Shame whenever I mention him to my dad, I have to describe him as Hugh Grant's roommate in Notting Hill (1999). I remember him for other things.

as corny as it sounds

I wish someone would say to me, "We belong together. Like traffic and weather." Like traffic and weather.

the most uncinematic disaster movie

Two nights ago, I watched World Trade Center (2006). Haven't written about it in my film journal yet, but I feel the need to elaborate here on how awful a movie it is.

I guess the way I want to approach this is to take its director Oliver Stone as a guide. Stone, as we all know, loves to court controversy. Even his Alexander (2004) was controversial. In any case, I think this flag-waving waste of celluloid is his least controversial film. In fact, it's not controversial at all. For this reason, maybe I should see United 93 (2006) to compare. While the films are not about the same thing, they deal with well-connected instances. But I digress.

What I am trying to say is that I couldn't believe Stone made this. And please don't take this to mean that I am a fan of his films. I'm indifferent to them; take them or leave them, I say. It's just kind of hard not to see that the (albeit light) cynicism exhibited in Platoon (1986) has been completely erased and replaced with hokey sentimentalism parading around as a "true story of courage and survival."

It has been suggested that it is too early to make films about 11 September 2001. There's not enough hindsight. There are so many perspectives out there (then and now) that any filmic treatment of that day's events really should be more sophisticated than a good vs. evil narrative. Oh, this movie avoided that. Instead, it just opted to tell a nationalistic and triumphalist narrative. Never too early (or too late) for ones of those, eh?

At the core, I had a problem. World Trade Center is based on the true-life accounts of Port Authority police officers John McLoughlin and Will Jimeno, two of the five cops from that station who went into the complex after the second plane hit the other tower. When the buildings collapse, all five get trapped under concrete and other heavy and sharp material. But only McLoughlin and Jimeno make it out alive. Just barely. In any case, they had not begun to save any lives when the towers crashed and buried them. And all of this happens within the first half hour.

I do not mean to make light of the situation, but I do not exactly consider McLoughlin and Jimeno heroes. Instead, they are metaphors for the country. (Oh, I guess the filmmakers did use hindsight!) They don't really know what is going on and why it has happened. They don't know if they'll make it (read: recover). In fact, McLoughlin, played by a heavily-accented mustache and a receding hairline called Nicolas Cage, very nearly dies just as he is being rescued. What gets him through it? His wife, who appears to him and says he has to survive because he hasn't finished refurbishing her kitchen. (Life must go on.) There were some lines, which I now forget, that really serve as proof of this theory that they are stand-ins for all Americans. The use of a lot of archive footage includes clips of then-NYC mayor Rudy Giuliani trying to bolster some patriotic spirit, too.

Another problem I had was with the subplot of an ex-marine from rural Pennsylvania or something. He watches the events unfold with his coworkers in the office. He is so angered that he storms off, saying something to the effect of: "They don't know it yet, but a war has just begun." Such an intensely delivered over-the-top statement only makes more sense once we viewers learn that he is a former marine. I cannot remember now, but I think this tidbit about him is revealed when he goes to church (the place he stormed off to). From there, he drives down to NYC and lends a helping--and creepy--hand. See what I mean? There are others who also contribute during the crisis. I do not mean to say it isn't wonderful that people came and helped, but please. The cheese is so hard to cut it's so thick.

In fact, the scene with the marine going to the church was the only scene that overtly reminded me of anything by Stone. Yes, he's dealt with recent American history before, but here he brought in religion. And religion played a large role in Platoon. The battle over Chris Taylor's soul. Elias's Jesus-like pose just before he dies. I point this out because before this scene, there was no religion talk or iconography. As I can recall from this time in my life, the discussion about religion only became more heated once fundamentalism was brought up, as it related to the identity of the perpetrators.

Other than these issues, the other major problem I had was that it was almost completely uncinematic. I admit that, not knowing about McLoughlin or Jimeno before seeing the film, I did not know who would make it. I didn't think both would. So in this way, it was a bit of a suspense. But it was boring, and watching their families react was just like watching any other melodrama. Other than the few moments when the filmmakers actually acknowledge that there are more than just two families in distress, the film never really seems monumental. And certainly not as monumental as that day was for those of us who remember it. It was just like any other disaster movie, but with bright red, white, and blue in the background.

As this is the narrative (and some would say, myth) that most Americans have accepted about 9/11--of all Americans banding together to survive and triumph against anyone who tried to destroy the American way of life--how could anyone call it controversial? It is totally mainstream, and the most mainstream movie Stone has ever made.

I ask myself: why did he make this? Hasn't hindsight convinced him even a little bit that there are connections between the Vietnam War and the American-led "War on Terror"? I mean, the triumphalism was missing with Vietnam and definitely from his three movies centered round it. Other than these guys fortunately surviving the attack, what is triumphal about 9/11?

oh well

This post says nothing, means something.

Ooh, I can see the TV behind me reflected in my computer screen.

an historic day

I got my first cell phone today. More on that later...

just a tiny little prick

Unbelievable. I was just washing up. And I stabbed myself. With my own thumbnail. Twice. Once on the very tip of my left middle finger. And then on the top side of my left index finger. As they are bleeding profusely right now, I am typing this one-handed.

By the way, I didn't realize I had stabbed myself until I saw the blood on the paper towels I was using to dry the glasses I had washed. Oh, no, I felt each stab as it happened, but I didn't think it was that serious.

I'm thinking I should invest in an emery board.

hey

I painted!

the poor man's eddie murphy isn't eddie murphy?

I have known for a while that they're coming out with a sequel to Daddy Day Care (2003): Daddy Day Camp (2007). That's no biggie. But what I didn't know until seeing a commercial today was that Eddie Murphy, Jeff Garlin, and Steve Zahn are not returning.

This doesn't exactly surprise me. I admit that at first I figured that the sequel would just follow new characters. Not so. Instead, Cuba Gooding Jr. is replacing Murphy as Charlie Hinton. Cuba's career has been punctuated by Boyz n the Hood (1991), Jerry Maguire (1996), Pearl Harbor (2001), Snow Dogs (2002), and Boat Trip (2002). And now he's that guy they call when Eddie Murphy says no.

What else is surprising about Daddy Day Camp? Fred Savage (aka Kevin Arnold) is directing. Doesn't that just make you giggle?

if i were a number, what number would i be?

Stephanie took the Enneagram test by OkCupid, so I thought, why not I? This test, which Stephanie found was spot on when it called her an EIGHT (aka "The Asserter"), proves that we are not exactly the same. I'm most of what this says a FOUR is. But I don't know why we're called romantics. I'm not romantic. Just because I like Jane Austen doesn't make me romantic, does it? By the way, I comment on my results in italics.

My score on The Quick & Painless ENNEAGRAM Test: 4 - the Individualist

My Enneagram type is FOUR (aka "The Romantic")

"I am unique"

Romantics have sensitive feelings and are warm and perceptive.

How to Get Along with Me

* Give me plenty of compliments. They mean a lot to me. Only when I deserve them, please. And yes, they do mean a lot to me. So much so that I won't forget even the littlest one.

* Be a supportive friend or partner. Help me to learn to love and value myself. Please.

* Respect me for my special gifts of intuition and vision. I guess this could refer to my hyper-observance?

* Though I don't always want to be cheered up when I'm feeling melancholy, I sometimes like to have someone lighten me up a little. True dat. I much rather laugh than cry, I think. I mean, I cry a lot. Whether it's because of a movie or just because I'm thinking about sad things.

* Don't tell me I'm too sensitive or that I'm overreacting! Why? Because I already know this.

What I Like About Being a FOUR

* My ability to find meaning in life and to experience feeling at a deep level. Uh, I haven't found the meaning of life. 42 didn't work out.

* My ability to establish warm connections with people. There's only a few.

* Admiring what is noble, truthful, and beautiful in life. I dunno if I do that.

* My creativity, intuition, and sense of humor. I don't consider myself creative or intuitive. I don't think I am funny, but I get things.

* Being unique and being seen as unique by others. I have to admit, this is pretty important to me.

* Having aesthetic sensibilities. I do like the aesthetics of things. I do.

* Being able to easily pick up the feelings of people around me. I'm not very intuitive, but I think I can tell when someone's feeling happy or shitty. Or uncomfortable.

What's Hard About Being a FOUR

* Experiencing dark moods of emptiness and despair. This is the worst of it all.

* Feelings of self-hatred and shame; believing I don't deserve to be loved. Or maybe this is the worst.

* Feeling guilty when I disappoint people. I do, yeah.

* Feeling hurt or attacked when someone misunderstands me. No. It's the other way round. I feel misunderstood when someone hurts or attacks me.

* Expecting too much from myself and life. I think this is how people close to me see me.

* Fearing being abandoned. Yeah, but I don't freak out too much when it happens. I get over it. Eventually. I'm used to it by now. But I still hate it when it happens.

* Obsessing over resentments. I obsess over everything.

* Longing for what I don't have. Not materialistically. And not spiritually. I just want to be happy.

FOURs as Children Often

* Have active imaginations: play creatively alone or organize playmates in original games. This is a tricky one. I don't think I had a particularly active imagination as a kid. Except I did and still do pretend my life is a movie. This, however, did remind me that I invented a stupid game based round a large circle with numbers 1-30 in it painted on the asphalt at my elementary school's playground. There was nothing we could do with it, so I invented a game. That almost no one played with me.

* Are very sensitive. True dat.

* Feel that they don't fit in. Uh-huh. Still feel this way. Probably always will.

* Believe they are missing something that other people have. I'm not a particularly jealous person.

* Attach themselves to idealized teachers, heroes, artists, etc. I don't hero worship.

* Become antiauthoritarian or rebellious when criticized or not understood. I dunno.

* Feel lonely or abandoned (perhaps as a result of a death or their parents' divorce). Yeah.

FOURs as Parents (If and when I become a parent...)

* Help their children become who they really are. Definitely.

* Support their children's creativity and originality. Absolutely.

* Are good at helping their children get in touch with their feelings. Always.

* Are sometimes overly critical or overly protective. Probably.

* Are usually very good with children if not too self-absorbed. Jury's still out.

From:
Renee Baron & Elizabeth Wagele
The Enneagram Made Easy
Discover the 9 Types of People
Harper
San Francisco, 1994, 161 pages

out of context

OK. It doesn't look like I am going to do much work around the house today. This means I have time to concentrate on writing an argumentative blog post. The topic? I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry (2007).

There are several problems with this movie. I know, I know, can I or should I even complain since I haven't even seen it yet? I think I can.

The film is about two firefighters--friends Chuck (Adam Sandler) and Larry (Kevin James). According to the commercial, Larry is trying to ensure that his pension is passed along to his kids. The best way to do this, he figures, is to form a domestic partnership with his very straight friend, Chuck.

Now I don't know anything about pensions really, but some things are missing from this. It doesn't make sense. Where is Larry's wife/companion/mother of his children? Is he a widower? What about life insurance? You're a firefighter! (Then again, perhaps it's his high-risk job that prevents him from getting life insurance. This is not just.) More to the point, have the makers forgotten that same-sex marriage, while still a hot-button issue (that has cooled considerably), has not been resolved, for lack of a better word? I mean, I don't think in Brooklyn there are laws in place to protect the financial rights of gay couples. Perhaps it would make more sense if the movie were based in Boston?

Anyway, the film is apparently an "unauthorized" remake of the little Australian film Strange Bedfellows (2004). Now I don't know much about Australian politics or Australians' approach to gay marriage, but somehow it is more believable that Paul Hogan and Michael Caton would have more to gain from putting on the charade (which I do not advocate at all). In other words, I could see Australia having tax laws that finally include gay couples. I just don't see them here.

Another problem I have with the film derives yet again from the commercial I see all the time on TV. It sets up the premise. Understandable. Necessary. But it also introduces an unexpected setback in their plan. Looks like Chuck will fall for a case worker or lawyer or something. Anyway, he falls for Jessica Biel (surprise, surprise; and what's the age difference?). My point here is the commercial/trailer spelled out the whole movie. Heterosexuality gets in the way. It shows that the only reason to see this is to see them make fun of homosexuality because two masculine firefighters not all that secure with their sexuality are going to pretend to be homosexuals. Just for laughs. I may be wrong. It may be that the film has good intentions, to educate the usual Adam Sandler moviegoer about gay people (because let's face it, most of his other stuff is homophobic). In other words, the film may be more sympathetic, but I doubt it. If they wanted to do this, Sandler would play in earnest a gay character in a movie. (Shit. I can't remember the representation of the gay couple in Big Daddy [1999].)

I specifically take offense to the scene in the commercial where they're shopping together. Larry picks up a box of tampons or sanitary pads. Chuck reminds him: "We're gay! Not transsexuals!" This statement, while pointing out the difference, ultimately is just another joke, another gag. I can't explain it, but it doesn't sit well with me. Nevermind the fact that male-to-female transsexuals wouldn't need that kind of personal hygiene product.

Here's another thing that bothers me. Freaks me out, rather. And I just found out about it. Director Alexander Payne and his longtime co-writer Jim Taylor have co-written the script. Maybe this means it would be better than it looks, but I am just shocked that they wrote a fuckin' Adam Sandler movie!

OK. I think I've said my piece.

14 juillet

Happy Bastille Day!

Nevermind the fact that as I write this it is already the 15th in France.

lofty dreams

Today was a shorter day. But combined the last two days have seen a major overhaul of the house. To explain what has happened I would need to describe the layout of the house. And I don't particularly feel like doing that right now.

Let me just say that the house feels huge now. The living room echoes, as it is now void of almost all of its original furniture (only a blue reclining armchair remains, along with some furniture that will not stay permanently). Walking from room to room, I get the feeling I am living in a large loft. The effect the combination of the emptiness and the acoustics has is very, very surreal for lack of a better word.

I honestly can't believe we got here, and we have our handyman of a cousin to thank for it. (Thank you, Manny!)

What's left, you ask? There's a lot more recycling and organizing to do. We filled a 21-foot-long dumpster that's eight feet wide and five feet tall. It got dropped off at 7.15 this morning and it's getting picked up sometime tomorrow. Then we have to go about the house, painting the rooms. Then we'll refurnish the living room. Replace the refrigerator perhaps. Rejuvenate the beautiful hardwood floors. Recarpet the playroom-turned-storage room-turned-haven't-figured-it-out-yet room. Install blinds in my room and in the large room that used to be filled with all kinds of stuff (it has very little in it now, compared to what it was like before).

This is a very strange place to be. Yes, I do mean physically. Samson has found the building very disorienting himself. He had trouble sleeping last night because the sofas in the living room, his regular resting place at night, had been evacuated.

More than this though, I just can't believe it's happened. Finally, we just might be getting the house we deserve, the lifestyle we think we can aspire to. I mean, I have said for years that I want to clean up the house so we could actually invite people over. It never got done because no one would step up and help. And then I became lazy. I didn't believe people when they said they would help. And when the people I did believe said they'd clean up, I was in England. I guess it would only get done if I were here and had people on my side.

wild movies i have known

Well, since it appears I have not seen many movies recently, I thought I should directly address this discrepancy. In fact, I have seen quite a few, and I would like to share with you some of my thoughts about (most of) the movies I've seen since returning to the States, in chronological order of my viewing them.

Abridged from my film journal:

1.) Factory Girl (2006): Quick-moving like Edie Sedgwick's life, so kudos for recreating that cinematically. Still, there was something lacking. I didn't care about any of the characters. Very flat despite the fullness of those dynamic relationships. (Actually, I saw this one on the plane from the UK.)

2.) Ocean's Thirteen (2007): Long and a bit boring, but at least they make fun of themselves, which is all you can (or should) expect from these films. Not enough George Clooney.

3.) La vie en rose (2007): Weaving three time periods of tragic French singer Edith Piaf's life does not mask the fact that you, Olivier Dahan, made a rather formulaic biopic about an artist/musician. Can we please see a movie about a famous person who got almost everything right, who didn't dapple in drugs and let fame go to his or her head?

4.) Two Days (2003): Never heard of it before Stephanie rented it from Netflix while she was here. Rather liked it. Funny and tragic, which gives it a rather uneven tone, but when the main guy is Paul Rudd, I won't complain too much. (Though, have you seen The Shape of Things [2003]?)

5.) Frida (2002): Had a craving to see this one since the end of my tenure in England. I still think it's too by-the-book.

6.) Matilda (1996): So sweet it made me cry.

7.) Tea and Sympathy (1956): Wasn't expecting a movie from this era to be completely about a "sissy," a boy who exhibits behavior way too feminine for his friends to feel comfortable with their own gender and sexuality. Lovely how it skirts round his ambiguous sexuality and in the end gives him heterosexuality, although the whole time he seemed so asexual to me.

8.) A Mighty Heart (2007): Everything you'd expect from a film based on "true events" as previously represented in a book by the real-life main character. And those events took place within the last five and a half years.

9.) The Mustache (2005): Funny and strange French thriller. Not enough Mathieu Amalric.

10.) A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints (2006): Almost completely uncinematic. Just 100 minutes of some new writer-director (Dito Montiel) blowing himself. Even Robert Downey Jr. can't make it interesting.

11.) Don't Move (2004): Misogyny as only the Italians can do, but still utterly gorgeous, well-written and well-acted. Despite the major flaw (why would a repeated rape yield a love affair?!) I really enjoyed everything else about this one.

12.) Ratatouille (2007): It's as awesome as everyone's been saying but not without its flaws.

13.) Keane (2004): Another tour-de-force performance overlooked. Still, the claustrophobic camera technique does not a movie make.

14.) Conversations With Other Women (2005): There's more than just the split-screen gimmick! I swear!

15.) A tout de suite (2004): Get over the French New Wave already!

16.) Yossi & Jagger (2002): In a word: hokey.

17.) 13 Tzameti (2005): A French thriller that actually thrills. Fantastic: it's to be remade in America. I thought it already was very American.

18.) Borat (2006): Grossly anti-Semitic and very gay. Dangerous because its wild popularity probably gives almost everyone who saw it the OK to make fun of anyone and everyone.

19.) Mysterious Skin (2004): "Uncomfortable" comes to mind, but it's so well-done in almost every way (especially since it tackles some very serious issues such as pedophilia, prostitution, and gay sex during the 1980s) it demands to be seen.

20.) Kings & Queen (2004): A lot going on. Very sad but also very funny. Another plus? It's got Mathieu Amalric.

21.) Jaws (1975): I know, I'd never seen it before. Second half (their hunt for the shark) drags. Don't understand how it could yield sequels. Who would sign up to see it? Isn't everything that can be done with shark attacks been covered by this one? By the way, I don't like the whole "eye for an eye" premise because it in effect tries to defeat nature. Sharks eat. Just stay away. It's nature. It's simple.

22.) Live Free or Die Hard (2007): "Firesale!" Compelling old school action movie. Probably why I liked it on the whole.