happy birthday craig ferguson and dennis hopper

What's funny about this is that back in June 2005, I was in the audience of a taping of "The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson" (2005-present) and Dennis Hopper was the first guest. I wonder if they knew at the time that they have the same birthday. How interesting.

something to look forward to

I haven't posted in a very long time because I have been tremendously busy with school. Still am, in fact, and I won't be finished with all my schoolwork until I literally graduate in about a month. I cannot believe it's just around the corner. I still feel like a junior since I'd spent my third year with second-year British kids in England.

In general I am overwhelmed, also, with finding a job since the graduate school thing didn't work out. Oh, thanks, but it's OK. I've gotten over it. I'd wanted to actually post about the rush of feelings I had once I learned the news about three weeks ago, but I never got around to it. I've resolved to apply to different kinds of programs--programs--to start in fall 2009. In the meantime, I hope to do something worthwhile, something I am interested in, something that will make my application so much more appealing. I just don't know what that something is.

Anyway, I am really looking forward to graduation because it will mean that I have finished my thesis (it fascinates me but it is oh-so-tedious), completed all the other work I need to do for my two other classes, and it will mean I can relax. I've thought about this some, and I wanted to give a list of fun, leisurely things I want to do, starting as soon as I graduate. Because you know I hate to be idle.

Now, what I need to do:

1.) Go to NYC for a few days with Stephanie. Have fun. Take pictures.

2.) Read books you've wanted to read for a long time. This includes finishing The Story of French. Start with that and then move on to reading more of those transgender studies books. Also, read some art books so you can participate in lively discussions with Dad. Start with The Private Lives of the Impressionists, the book that instigated his quest to learn more about art.

3.) Use your intermediate-to-advanced French workbook to refresh. One of your lifetime goals is to be as fluent as possible in a language. Start here.

4.) Go to the movies! Determine whether or not you want to keep your Netflix account. You don't go through your queue very quickly, and you probably won't even once you finish school because hopefully you will find a job to occupy your time. You could just rent from the library for cheap.

5.) Blog! And create a separate blog that is only about movies. This way, you can show this to people for writing samples of your work about film.

6.) Edit your thesis and turn it into a book with self-publishing software.

7.) Try to meet people. You need friends, man.

I hope I haven't put too much pressure on myself.

my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

I have yet to see There Will Be Blood (2007), but the buzz surrounding a certain line Daniel Day-Lewis's character, Daniel Plainview, utters has reached my ears. Actually, I should clarify something first: I have never heard DDL say, "I drink your milkshake. I drink it up." Not even in character. What I mean to say is that I've learned that this might be the next big cinematic catchphrase. 'Tis a shame, really, because it is so much better than "I see dead people" or "I wish I knew how to quit you!" I know this to be true despite the fact that my one reliable source about the film (read: Stephanie) has seen it but she can't even remember when Plainview says it, to whom he says it, and under what kind of conditions he says it. Oh, but that is neither here nor there.

Josh Ozersky's blog entry/rant/editorial/whatever on New York Magazine's website was pretty funny. It really inspired me to come up with a reason why we should repeat the line. Again, with what circumstances is quoting the film not just logical but also appropriate? Well, I think I stumbled upon the answer a few minutes ago.

First, a little background: I was just chatting through Gmail with Stephanie. She's been feeling under the weather for over a week now, so she was telling me about the latest developments with regards to her health and well-being. Anyway, turns out that she needs help applying some ointment and bandages to her first degree burn. (Don't ask, it's too embarrassing.) Lucky for her I will be arriving in L.A. in two days. Then again, she was lucky before, too, because I was already scheduled to help her clean her apartment.

You're wondering where this is headed? I'm getting there.

When she told me I'd be needed to fulfill this second favor, I said, "So I'm the cleaning lady and the cabana boy."

Stephanie then proceeded to, I think, do some variation of a line by Catherine O'Hara in Beetlejuice (1988): "You like it." (I presume this was her intention. Not only does she know I like to repeat the line "He likes it," I think she might also like to say it, too. Again, it's hard to tell because getting inflections across through typing is only ever moderately successful. Depends on the context of the situation.)

Here's the big deal: in response, I said, "You're right. I drink your milkshake. I drink it up." What I meant by this phrase is that Stephanie's treatment of me (making me her cleaning lady and her cabana boy) is, for lack of a better word, exciting. I bask in her glow. I make a toast to honor her dominance over me. Oh, this is not sounding like I want it to.

OK. So if we step back a bit, what I mean to show is that to drink someone's milkshake is to surrender something to them, to concede a point, if you will. For example, it could happen if there is a bet between two people. Person No. 1 says, "How much you wanna bet I can dunk this ball in that bin 100 feet away?" Person No. 2 then doubts No. 1 can achieve such a feat. But what do you know? Person No. 1 is successful. Now is the right time for Person No. 2 to use the phrase. "OK. OK. You did it. I drink your milkshake. I drink it up."

See, "milkshake" signifies essence, talent, idea, whatever. But it's got to belong to someone. It's a good thing when someone drinks your milkshake. I realize it can sound selfish, like someone's literally grabbing your strawberry milkshake out of your hand. Or it can sound menacing, as if the person who says it means to humiliate you even more, rubbing it in your face how bad you are at fill-in-the-blank.

No, no. This phrase must be positive, not even self-deflating or humbling. I doubt it is positive in the film, so let us rewrite the line and transform the film as its consumers. I drink your milkshake, There Will Be Blood. I drink it up.

these "spirits" are even showier!

I only saw the second half of the Independent Spirit Awards last night, but I have a few observations I would like to share nonetheless.

1.) When Dustin Hoffman presented the award for Best Feature Film, was he on crack? Not only was he barely coherent, he made some ridiculous comments. For instance, before he got going with announcing the nominees, he stated that he fucked Javier Bardem and that Philip Seymour Hoffman was the product of that union. "Metaphorically speaking, of course." Everyone was howling with laughter, which made me feel so out of the loop. Is that funny, really? Even if it were possible for two men to make a baby, it wouldn't have been possible in this case. I mean, Javier's younger than Philip.

Dusty also said a vaguely anti-Semitic remark. Well, maybe it wasn't so vague. He wanted to point out something on the wall behind him that resembled, for him at least, the Star of David. He said something to the effect of: "That's there to remind us that not only do the Jews run Hollywood, they also run the Independent Spirit Awards. I'm not speaking metaphorically, either." Again, the crowd howled with laughter. Since I already dislike her, it was especially painful for me to watch Cate Blanchett laugh. Anyway, just imagine if a non-Jew had said that. Right?

2.) There was something about the first Robert Altman Award, which is handed out to the director, cast, and casting director of an exemplary ensemble piece, that struck me in a bad way. It was awarded to I'm Not There (2007). I agree that casting and this award is important, but I guess seeing the Blanchett standing behind director Todd Haynes, who was talking about independent film and casting, was a bit weird. I mean, of course big stars can transcend mainstream film and star in independent features (look at Angelina Jolie, for one, in A Mighty Heart [2007]), but the cast is filled with Richard Gere and Batman himself: Christian Bale. Just didn't sit right in my stomach.

3.) Speaking of A Mighty Heart, I absolutely hated how the Master of Ceremonies Rainn "Dwight" Wilson made fun of Michael Winterbottom's name. How lame can he get? (The film was nominated for Best Feature film and lost to the juggernaut called Juno [2007]).

4.) That leads me onto something else: the Ellen Page lovefest. More specifically, the waves of affection going back and forth between Page and director Jason Reitman. At one point, she even said, "I'm Ellen Page and I'm in love with Jason Reitman." I'm waiting to watch the story about their running off into the sunset together emerge in the headlines sometime soon. Keep your eyes pealed.

5.) Oh, and another thing that pissed me off about that Rainn guy. He wrapped up the show and then threatened Philip Seymour Hoffman with violence. He went into the crowd as soon as his "professional" duties were over and done with. Unfortunately for him, this gave Hoffman enough time to defend himself with his chair legs. Hoffman basically pummeled him, and I got to see the distinguished actor's plumber butt. I thought, "What is this? Some old Almost Famous (2000) rivalry?" (Remember, Wilson worked for Rolling Stone, and Hoffman was Lester Bangs of Creem Magazine.)

6.) Finally, Julian Schnabel, in case you did not know, is really weird. Awful acceptance speech, but at least it was entertaining. He won for Best Director, and his former lead actor Javier Bardem presented it to him. They hugged. Julian even thanked him, along with The Diving Bell and the Butterfly's (2007) screenwriter Ronald Harwood and producer Kathleen Kennedy. No thanking of anyone else, especially not Mathieu Amalric. Sorry, but as a fan of his work, I feel cut by all of the gliding over of his contribution to the work. Contrary to popular belief, his role was not all voiceover. There was a fair bit of discomfort, I imagine. Hell, even his voice work had to convey a lot about Jean-Do's sense of humor, personal struggle, depression, imagination, and uplift. And I think even his body--and by that, I mean Mathieu's--did a lot for that.

OK. I am done ranting.

and the nominees might be...

Tomorrow morning, they will announce the nominees for the Academy Awards. And we still don't know if the show will go on. At least, we don't know in which form they may happen. Anyway, I thought I would predict the nominees for the "major" categories and choose the likely winners from my hypotheses. Below, I've also included some wishful thinking. (I'd wanted to predict the winners of the Golden Globes, but I only had the craving to post about that 30 minutes prior to the start of the glossy "press conference," which I didn't even watch. I favored Masterpiece Classic's airing of Persuasion [2007] instead. But that is neither here nor there.)

Best Adapted Screenplay:

1.) There Will Be Blood (2007) by Paul Thomas Anderson
2.) The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (2007) by Ronald Harwood
3.) No Country for Old Men (2007) by Joel and Ethan Coen
4.) Atonement (2007) by Christopher Hampton
5.) Into the Wild (2007) by Sean Penn

The Likely Winner: I think this category is a toss-up, really. I was not exactly impressed when the Brothers Coen won the Globe. I was expecting Atonement to win because it fabulously translated the "un-filmable" Ian McEwan novel to the screen. I think Atonement has a shot in this race despite the previous Old Men win(s). Would, however, like to see The Diving Bell win because it was my favorite film of the year (not that I saw so many movies this year) and, not to mention, it was apparently Harwood's idea that the film be shot largely from Jean-Do's point-of-view, to help the audience empathize with him for having the condition called "locked-in syndrome" following his stroke.

By the way, I debated a bit about who would fill the final slot: American Gangster (2007) or Into the Wild. I chose the latter because supposedly the fact that almost everything in American Gangster was fabricated for dramatic effect and bears almost no resemblance to the story of Frank Lucas, voters will not favor it. This is sort of stupid, because who says that the film story must be close to the actual story? A story is a story. Anyway, I figured Into the Wild would get it over Gangster because don't they love Sean Penn and American bestsellers?

Best Original Screenplay:

1.) Juno (2007) by Diablo Cody
2.) Michael Clayton (2007) by Tony Gilroy
3.) Ratatouille (2007) by Brad Bird
4.) The Savages (2007) by Tamara Jenkins
5.) Lars and the Real Girl (2007) by Nancy Oliver

The Likely Winner: Before I "announce" the Likely Winner, it's interesting to me that women dominate in this category. (Of course this means nothing since these are only my predictions.) Unfortunately, Juno seems like the most likely winner, but perhaps all that buzz will kill it stone dead. Clayton seems likely to be at least nominated because it was a "smart" movie for the thinking "grown-ups" among audiences. Plus it's a political thriller that hearkens back to some of the classics. Having said all this, I would like to see, among these nominees I've selected, Ratatouille win because that film is art all around, anchored by a fantastic script. The script itself elevates the animated film to a much higher level.

By the way, I should say that this category is much more difficult to predict than Adapted Screenplay because it seems like all the darlings of this award season are based on previously published material. This pretty much explains my choices for the fourth and fifth spots.

Best Supporting Actress:

1.) Amy Ryan for Gone Baby Gone (2007)
2.) Cate Blanchett for I'm Not There (2007)
3.) Saoirse Ronan for Atonement
4.) Vanessa Redgrave for Atonement
5.) Tilda Swinton for Michael Clayton

The Likely Winner: It's probably between Numbers 1 and 2. Would be extremely distressful (for me, at least) if Blanchett won because that would mean she has two Oscars for IMPERSONATING HISTORICAL FIGURES. I'm sorry, but in my opinion, that is not acting. Of course she does not always impersonate people, but she would go down in history as nothing but an impressionist. I don't think that it is likely she will win an Oscar for Best Actress ever, really. There, I said it. (Can you tell I am not exactly a fan of hers, either? I admit to some extreme bias.) I think perhaps both Ronan and Redgrave will be nominated. Choosing Redgrave, you may be thinking, is ridiculous, but Judi Dench won for what? 13 minutes of screen time in Shakespeare in Love (1998)? It's entirely possible. Plus, don't they love nominating the old and the ridiculously young? I don't have a personal choice to win. I'd be happy with anyone but Blanchett.

Best Supporting Actor:

1.) Javier Bardem for No Country for Old Men
2.) Tom Wilkinson for Michael Clayton
3.) Casey Affleck for The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)
4.) Hal Holbrook for Into the Wild
5.) Philip Seymour Hoffman for Charlie Wilson's War (2007)

The Likely Winner: Do I even need to say this? I bet it will be Javier. He's one of my favorite actors, and even though it's a "supporting role," it's definitely a good, meaty one to win for. In fact, I don't think there's a leading role in this film. It's very much an ensemble piece, which is why none are nominated for leading roles. His is possibly the biggest and the most important. It's practically because of Anton that everything else takes place.

Also, I want to add that this category is tough to pin down because I think Paul Dano could easily get nominated for his work in There Will Be Blood, but I don't know who he would knock off if he got nominated: Affleck, Wilkinson, Holbrook, or Hoffman (who will be nominated, I think, because he apparently stole the movie from Hanks).

Best Actress:

1.) Julie Christie for Away From Her (2007)
2.) Marion Cotillard for La Vie en rose (2007)
3.) Ellen Page for Juno
4.) Angelina Jolie for A Mighty Heart (2007)
5.) Keira Knightley for Atonement

The Likely Winner: Between Numbers 1 and 2, but I think the gong will go to Christie. That is, if she's actually nominated. (Ha!) I listed this set from the actress most likely to win to the actress least likely. Knightley is the dark horse in this race because I do not think her role was meaty enough to be classified as a leading role, but it was definitely meatier than a supporting one. In other words, Atonement is very much James McAvoy's film. Angelina Jolie will get the nomination, I think, over Blanchett's reprisal of Elizabeth I simply because Blanchett merely yelled out of frustration and modeled fancy sixteenth century dresses. Jolie at least sank into her role, taking it very seriously, and I think it paid off. Whatever. It doesn't matter because Christie will win.

Best Actor:

1.) Daniel Day-Lewis for There Will Be Blood
2.) George Clooney for Michael Clayton
3.) James McAvoy for Atonement
4.) Viggo Mortensen for Eastern Promises (2007)
5.) Emile Hirsch for Into the Wild

The Likely Winner: Day-Lewis.

Best Director:

1.) Joel and Ethan Coen for No Country for Old Men
2.) Julian Schnabel for The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
3.) Joe Wright for Atonement
4.) Sean Penn for Into the Wild
5.) Paul Thomas Anderson for There Will Be Blood

The Likely Winner: I think it's between Numbers 1 and 2, but maybe even Number 3 can edge his way in there. He should be able to because Atonement oozes in his style. Would prefer it if Wright or Schnabel won, honestly. Then again, I think it would be cool if Brad Bird were nominated for Ratatouille. Again, this nomination would demonstrate that some animated films are capable of rising above that "animated" stigma.

Best Picture:

1.) No Country for Old Men
2.) Atonement
3.) There Will Be Blood
4.) Michael Clayton
5.) The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

The Likely Winner: I've decided against predicting the winner among these five simply because I don't want to get my hopes up. And I don't even know which hopes I should be concerned about. I would love to see The Diving Bell win, but the truth is it's probably the dark horse among them. Yes, its recent nomination over at the Producers Guild of America Awards helps it. Since it cannot be nominated for Best Foreign Language Film (and France's pick Persepolis [2007] didn't even make the shortlist), this is its best shot.

Fingers crossed, yeah.

a change about me

I'm thinking I should change the description of myself that lies just over to the right. I've been home from England for eight months. I'm not exactly experiencing counter shock anymore, but I am feeling more and more nostalgia for the life I led in Lancaster. Mainly the independence I reveled in. All those times I went to the movies by myself. I miss that kind of mobility. The enormous amounts of free time that generally bored me. I now see them as liberating. And the good, cheap food.

Anyway, I don't know what else to say about myself. "The musings, observations, and adventures of a cultural critic" is already taken. I'm not sure, so I am soliciting suggestions. Keep an eye out.

the subversion of an institution

The story I have to tell that justifies this post isn't easy. And I'm not sure it even makes sense. I'm looking down at the blue post-it on my desk that serves as a note-to-self: "post about new Secretary discovery." I wrote that nights ago, after I had already gotten in bed to go to sleep. So, I had already been lying in bed for at least a couple of minutes when this "new" "discovery" about Secretary (2002) hit me. It's very strange, since I haven't seen the film in a long while. I really cannot explain why I was thinking about Secretary at that moment, whenever it was.

But I do remember what I meant by "new Secretary discovery." After all, in parentheses, I scribbled a reminder of what that "discovery" is: "perversion of marriage." But I am getting too ahead of myself. And if you don't want the film to be spoiled for you if you haven't yet seen it, please find something else to read. Spoilers lie below.

Secretary is the story of Lee Holloway, a young woman who has just been released from a mental institution. She mutilates herself for autoerotic pleasure, and pretty much everyone, especially her family, misunderstands her: they think she's suicidal. Anyway, Lee gets a job as the newest in a long line of unceremoniously fired secretaries for the eccentric lawyer E. Edward Grey. To cut a long story short, their already sexually tense relationship eventually develops so that they enjoy a sadomasochistic one during regular business hours. Lee wants more. He freezes up, fires her, but she is still devoted to him, convinced that she has found some sort of soul mate, someone who understands her, etc. etc. It's an unconventional love story. But in the end, they marry.

For the longest time, I absolutely hated this ending. For the record, most of the time I hate it in films whenever the story ends with a wedding. In these cases, the wedding/marriage is completely unnecessary. Apparently, films end with this kind of event as a way to show to the audience that the love between the characters is legitimate and long-lasting. That's a pretty stupid reason, isn't it? Considering the divorce rate in this country is almost 50 percent, if it isn't already 50 percent.

Anyway, I especially hated the capping of the story with the marriage of Lee and Edward. By all accounts, they're perverted (but toward the end, her family and friends attempt to understand her desire for her former boss). Why do they want to conform to heteronormativity all of a sudden? I just didn't understand why.

And then it hit me, a couple of nights ago. This is probably really obvious to most of you, but it took me so long to understand that their union perverts the institution of marriage. And it all begins with Lee's wedding dress.

Right before the lovers are reunited, Lee has accepted the marriage proposal of her boyfriend, Peter. Simply because she has no idea what to do with herself. Trying on her soon-to-be mother-in-law's wedding dress, Lee realizes she doesn't want Peter, that she wants Edward. She rushes over to Edward's office, passing by the new secretary. In short, she plops herself down behind his desk, and at his request, doesn't lift her hands from the surface until he returns (days later!). A media circus ensues, and Lee reluctantly receives visitors.

Now, about that perversion of marriage: Since Lee doesn't get up, she pees in the dress. Take that, sanctity of marriage! The scene that follows Edward's return further subverts marriage. He carries her over the marital threshold to the loft upstairs, which resembles the Garden of Eden... if Martha Stewart had designed it. She's wearing a wedding dress, but this is not their wedding night. And the Garden of Eden motif recalls the notion of Original Sin, which they ignore. As we viewers have already witnessed, neither Lee nor Edward are prudes, so it is not a shock that they have pre-marital sex.

But it doesn't end here. Because when they finally do get married, they wipe out the religious connotations, electing to be married by a Justice of the Peace. But I should say this is all related through Lee's voiceover. We do not see the ceremony itself. In this way, the filmmakers further subvert the institution of marriage, but also the institution that cinematic romances must end with a wedding because we do not see it. Moreover, Lee is decked out in something that resembles a wedding dress in every way, except for the fact that its color is black. You'd think she were marrying Dracula or Beetlejuice. Not only that, the scene in which we glimpse the dress features Edward and Lee fucking, her wrists tied around the trunk of a tree. No threshold here, just good, dark, sadomasochistic love.

Following this, Lee talks about their marital bliss. They're "just like any other couple you'd see." Unfortunately, the independence Lee enjoyed with a job does not continue, for as Edward rolls out of the driveway, off to work, she stays home. We assume she eagerly anticipates his return. After all, she has dropped a dead cockroach on their immaculate bed. Edward's going to come home and spank her.

Yeah, so a couple of nights ago, I realized that Secretary makes fun of the romantic comedy/drama's formulaic ending: that the characters should not only fall in love and remain together as a couple, they should also get married. While Secretary conforms to the model, I think it says a lot about the formula itself. The film points out how there can be a happily ever after for sadist and the masochist. (See The Piano Teacher [2001] for a comparison.) However, having said all this, I still lament that Lee does not exactly maintain her complete feminist figure status. I wish she didn't become a housewife, really.

By the way, there was actually a second discovery that I made about Secretary. It made me think about all those films that are named for a character's profession. Other films of this ilk are: Waitress (2007), Hitman (2007), Actrices (2007), and Rock Star (2001). Closely related are those films who fit the category, but have a definite article to accompany them. They include: Le Valet (2006), Il Postino (1994), The Piano Teacher/La Pianiste, and The Pianist (2002). Can you think of any others?

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.