Showing posts with label Moving Pictures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Moving Pictures. Show all posts

Friday, January 31, 2014

Pitch just about Perfect…


Admission time: I love Pitch Perfect. Yes. The movie about a cappella singing.

No, it is not a Glee clone or a High School Musical rip-off.

No. It’s not. Seriously.

You see, that’s what I thought it was when Vicky first recorded it. She wanted to see it and I said, “You go right ahead but don’t think I’m going to watch that nonsense.”

Vicky is very tolerant about my dislike for some of her stuff. I think that comes from her dislike of much of my stuff: music, movies, books, sometimes my skin – you name it! So, she was perfectly fine with my need to avoid the flick. I stayed upstairs and played video games while, downstairs, she enjoyed the film.

At one point, I had to come downstairs to refill my drink or something and caught about two or three minutes of the… and you know what? It wasn’t half bad. I mean, I didn’t think it was great but it wasn’t half bad.

So, I agreed to watch it with Vicky on the provision that I could bad mouth it all I wanted.

The only problem was… I couldn’t. My face was stuck in a permanent grin.

You see, I thought this was going to be another one of those “we’re such cool, young movie stars that we can make whatever shitty musical crapfest we want and you will love it” kinds of shows, such as the aforementioned Glee and High School Musical.

Sure, Pitch Perfect is derivative of what came before but only in so far as it recognizes the mixture of performance/sports movie tropes. Then, it shreds them. Rather than being a movie about cool kids who do things perfectly, it’s a movie about nerds who screw up. But it is so infused with joy – and the hipster in me can’t believe I’m saying this – that you can’t help but be on their side.

On top of that, the movie is flat-out funny. It looks for every joke and it finds them. Sometimes, it even goes too far… but I can look past what is probably an overly ardent dedication to a puke joke.

Anyway, there you go. Vicky and I watched Pitch Perfect about five or six times now. I’ve even bought the fucking soundtrack.

It’s not like me to enjoy something so populist, so downright appealing to the masses… but I can’t help it.

Pitch Perfect, you’re just about pitch perfect.

Monday, October 07, 2013

Jogging by any other name…


The other day, I shared with Vicky the fact that I had jogged 10 miles that morning. Actually, I refer to it as “slogged”, not “jogged”. “Slogged” means “slow jogged”. And, believe me, I’m slow.

Vicky suggested that I was getting close to half a marathon and maybe I could think about getting into something like that.

… I thought she was kidding…

I told her, “I don’t think you understand just how slowly I jog. I jog really slow.”

“I’m sure plenty of people do marathons slowly,” she countered.

I just couldn’t get her to understand the depths to which my slowness plumbs.

And so, I have decided that I will share with you, my reading public – both of you – just how slowly I jog 10 miles…

 

Mile 1

I sit at the bus stop for 34 minutes. When the bus comes, I take it for .896 miles… and then I walk the rest.

 

Mile 2

I sit with my phone and watch a “Murder, She Wrote” marathon. After the 17th episode, I realize I’m thirsty and walk to the nearest 7-11 for a Big Gulp Slurpee.

 

Mile 3

Bathroom break. I hurry to the nearest bathroom, stopping only briefly to eat a gallon of ice cream, take a nap, and get a manicure.

 

Mile 4

Stop by to get a massage.

 

Mile 5

Stop to get another massage because I just learned about “Happy Endings”. Sadly, the masseuse has me thrown into jail for soliciting.

 

Mile 6

Several days later, I am released. Famished, I stop by Subway for a footlong tuna sandwich, a “Big & Beefy” sandwich, a “Chicken O’lay” sandwich, three meatball subs, four packs of chips, and a Diet Coke. I never eat more than seven sandwiches as I am watching my weight.

 

Mile 7-9

Hitchhike.

 

Mile 10

After a slow meander, I “binge watch” the last season of Newsroom. Then, I stop for some Never Ending Pasta at Olive Garden, get checked into the hospital to have my stomach pumped, and catch a ride home.

 

I guess what I’m saying is I’m slow.

Friday, October 04, 2013

On a road in Eastern Washington…


One way I consider myself lucky is that, oftentimes, I have a very vivid memory. This doesn’t apply to everything and it sometimes pops up on its own but, when it does, it’s like a movie playing in my head. Scenes unroll and I almost feel like I was there (which, of course, I was).

That’s what happened this morning. I was sitting at my desk, editing a new audiobook, when I began to see a memory from just a few months ago.

Vicky and I were in a car, on a road in eastern Washington State. I was driving and we were navigating our way up and down along these green and winding hillsides. Traffic wasn’t too bad; the only cars we saw were some classics on their way to a car show somewhere.

We drove along – I think Cher was playing on Vicky’s iPod – and talked a little, here and there. When you’re on the road with someone for more than a week or so, you’d think you would run out of things to say but that’s not how it was with Vicky and me. We just talked and talked; I think it was because we knew that, all too soon, we’d be back home and knee deep in the minutiae of our lives once again.

So, I was sitting here, letting that scene unroll in my mind, and I just felt so lucky.

I know it’s not much – trapped in a car for more than two weeks, driving every day – but sharing that with Vicky, even that, just made it so much better. It made it the kind of memory I can reflect on, months later, and just feel good about, knowing my love was next to me, knowing that she’s mine. It’s powerful stuff.

Sure, we fought quite a few times on the road. That’s what happens. That’s so common, it’s not really worth remembering. Because the rest of the time was so good and so right that even the memory of the two of us on a road in eastern Washington can still appear in my mind and just… make me happy.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

John Ary from Ain't It Cool News is my guest on So Dream Something...

I sat down with John Ary from Ain't It Cool News recently and got to spend an hour talking about movies and following your dreams. Check it out in this month's episode of So Dream Something...


Wednesday, February 22, 2012

It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad… Wait…



One of my favorite movies of all time is It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. It’s a veritable “Who’s Who” of mid-20th Century Hollywood. It’s a terrific California time capsule. But most of all its construction is perfect. The way it builds and builds is sublime.

So… how come it isn’t funny?

Seriously, I have loved this movie all my life but it almost always puts me to sleep. I love it on an intellectual level. As a comedy writer, I love the efficiency and technique; it’s beautiful.

But nobody’s funny.

Is it because of all the years that have passed? Is it dated? No, that can’t be it. Many silent comedies still hold their charm and wit. They make me laugh. Comedy does not need to come with an expiration date.

Is it familiarity, the fact that I’ve seen it so many times? No. Again, I’ve seen those silent films many times, too.

This wouldn’t bother me so much if this movie wasn’t so beautifully put together. But the fact is its construction is on the money. It makes sense. It builds. It surpri…

Wait.

I was going to write that it surprises. Like with Dick Shawn comes running after his mother after being so obviously high with a girl. Or when the cops get into the “game” of it. But, you know, those are the exceptions. I realize now that may be the problem with it

It’s like a gothic cathedral of comedy. Everything is where it should be, where you expect it. It’s a shout out to the classic jokes and actors – but without its own jokes. And maybe that’s where it goes wrong.

It may be Mad, Mad, Mad… but there’s very little that’s really crazy about it.

Still, I’ll watch it and enjoy it’s perfect lines and solid construction. After all, it is one of my favorites.

Thursday, October 02, 2008

Desperate Louse-wives...

It's generally acknowledged (in my house, at least) that Desperate Housewives has gone nowhere but downhill - fast - since its first season. Vicky and I have still watched it, though, hoping it would get better.

After watching the 5th season's premiere episode last night, however, I can assure you it's just not going to happen. Vicky and I were relieved in a way, thinking it was the show's final season... um... it's not!

After last night, I'm going to hate watching this show, but I will... for Vicky, because I already avoid several other shows she enjoys. I'm going to hate watching it but it'll give Vicky and I something to hate together. I'm not going to hate it because of the actresses or their characters; Vicky and I have rooted for them all. I'm not going to hate it because of the history; we've stuck it out through thick and thin. You want to know what I hate? I hate how obviously bored the creator, Marc Cherry, has become and how he's grown to detest his characters. That's the only explanation I can come up with. Take a look at the run-down:

Susan Mayer fell in love with Mike. Then, she lost him. Then, she got him. Then, she lost him. Then, she got her hair done. Then, she did some other stuff. Then, she got him, again... and again... This season, there's not even a pretense as to why she lost him. She dumped him because... of no fault of his own... But you know that by the end of the season she'll get him again.

Lynette Scavo has parenting issues. She always has. So does her husband. Every fucking season. I'm sick of it. Now? She still has parenting issues. The family needs to be locked up.

Bree Van de Camp isn't happy unless she's made everyone in the world feel like shit on her heel. We all enjoy watching her machinations - but this season, she's basically asking for pity because... she sucks... and not even in a way that would make Olsen look slightly less pussy-whipped.

Finally, there's Gabby and Carlos. Vicky and I have loved Gabby and Carlos. We couldn't wait for them to find their way to each other. Now, they're happily together (and you know Carlos will see again by season's end) and they're the Scavo's in year 4 of parenting, lousy at it and getting worse every day.

The thing is that Cherry can't find a story unless people are unhappy, which is fine in season one but he keeps returning to that well. He's returned so often, he's digging the well deeper and deeper and digging himself deeper as well. I can't imagine the actors finding a whole of fun in playing out the same storylines and if he really enjoyed the characters he'd give them something interesting to do!! Give us something interesting to watch!!

This isn't like Jericho. Vicky and I watched Jericho BECAUSE it was bad. We enjoyed how confused they were about basic science. But these lousy spouses aren't even fun to watch. They're the pathetic neighbors people talk about in disgust but never want to have to talk to.

So, let this serve as a warning: You have better things to do. Meanwhile, I'll make this sacrifice for my marriage.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

... and Ted and Alice...

Sometimes I hear some movie news I just can't keep to myself.

This movie may not have the best trailer ever - but what can you do? It's an indie flick. - but I loved the name the way love a fine wine you just drank 5 bottles of:

Bonnie & Clyde vs. Dracula!