Wizard and Glass

This - the fourth episode of "The Dark Tower" series - is perhaps the best of the series up to this point. Part of the reason it is so good is because it tells a great story of our hero Roland's past. Unfortunately, because most of this book involves our crew sitting around a campfire while Roland tells us about his past, our fellowship is no closer to The Dark Tower. For a book with so much plot - one front on the war which destroys Roland's world - not much happens regarding the larger plot arc. (Sure, there's a little bit about the revival of the Tick-Tock Man villan, and some direct allusions to The Wizard of Oz - but that part actually feels forced on to the end, as though King realized that he needed to move his characters forward.)

We find out about Roland's first (and probably only) love, as well as about some of his friendships. We learn that Walter (the Man in Black from the first book) was on the side of the Good Man, betraying Roland's world. We also learn that, at the time of his world's crumbling, Roland was just a young man. Stylistically, there are some great action sequences, and the mythology of Roland's world and all its political and social complexities become more clear.

Without giving it too much praise, this book definitely gives the mysterious hero more definition.

Tommy

"Your senses will never be the same."

"Tommy" - that deaf, dumb, and blind kid who sure plays a mean pinball - is the protagonist of The Who's famous rock opera.

The film version stars Roger Daltrey as the hero who, after seeing his father killed by his mother and stepfather (Oliver Reed), quite literally loses his senses. His mother (Ann-Margret) feels terrible guilt about the cover-up, and takes Tommy to all sorts of healers, such as The Preacher (Eric Clapton), but all to no avail. During this search for a cure, it is discovered that Tommy has a talent for playing pinball "by sense of smell" and he gains a cult following. When a medical specialist (Jack Nicholson - singing!) manages to cure Tommy, he opens his own religious resort. Ultimately, his followers realize that he is not a messiah, and his downfall leaves him alone in the world.

To say that Ken Russell's film is visually stunning would be an understatement. Lots of interesting colors, camera angles, and camera movement give them film a vibrancy hard to find in any other movie. Unfortunately, these features were all taken to the extreme. The constantly shifting colors and angles made me feel like I was in a fever dream, while the movement added to a sense of seasickness.

"Tommy" is unique. This uniqueness isn't enough to lift it to cinematic greatness. But the "rock opera" format - complete with cameos by Elton John and Eric Clapton - has never reached an apex higher than this. And it's hard to see another one being as revered as this one in the future. It's good. It's really, really good. Just not great.

Idiocracy

Tagline: "The future is a no brainer."

In Mike Judge's 2006 comedy, the perfectly average Joe (Luke WIlson) and Rita (Maya Rudolph) take part in an military experiment with suspended animation. When they wake up five hundred years later, they find that evolution has actually led to humanity losing intelligence. While trying to get to a time machine so he can get back to his proper era, Joe gets into some trouble with the law. Through an IQ test (which, for some reason, is part of his arrest process), it is discovered that he is the smartest man on earth, and so he is recruited to solve America's problems. Joe proves adept at handling these issues - such as using water to help plants grow - and ultimately decides to stay in the future with Rita.

This movie was generally panned by the critics, especially after Fox put it on an extremely limited release and refused to give advanced screenings. And it's easy to see why. The movie lacks cohesion. It feels like a lot of semi-great ideas duck taped together with a limited budget. At times, the comedy is slapstick. At other times, it is almost absurdist (think Terry Gilliam). But most of the time it seems like the set was slapped together moments before filming, while the script was being edited and adjusted mid-scene.

Which is unfortunate, because this movie has a lot of great moments which are lost in the film's self-destruction. Justin Long's great appearance as a doctor is absolutely hilarious, but that scene is passed over so quickly that we barely get to enjoy it. Many of the best jokes are there and gone - Joe's cunning escape from prison - while some of the weaker material ends up being used repeatedly - such as how Starbucks's marketing caters to a more carnal menu in the future (and that's as far as I'll go here about that).

After finishing this movie, trying to find the silver lining, my wife said, "It was good for a laugh." But that's about it. A laugh. Or two. Maybe four or five, after drinking for a bit. But there just was not enough to make up for the film's inconsistency.

The Road

There's no reason for me to summarize the plot for "The Road" because I've already covered it on this blog.

Honestly, I need to stand up to all the critics who characterized the movie as a flop. This film was an honest adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's masterpiece. Was it as elegant or artistic or original as the novel? Of course not! But John Hillcoat's film was faithful to the heart and soul of the book. Of course, the result of working so closely with the source work is that the film is bleak and depressing, leaving the viewer to ponder the ultimate fate of humanity for an hour or two after finishing it.

Of course, to stay true to the meaning of the text, the film did have to stray from a literal page-by-page duplication of the book - which led to some unfortunate cuts. For example, although the whole scene was less than a minute, the encounter with the dying man who had been hit by lightning was cut (although it can be found in the "Deleted Scenes" on the DVD). This cut was made - I presume - because The Man and The Boy (portrayed wonderfully by Viggo Mortensen and Kodi Smit-McPhee) are supposed to live in a world nearly devoid of people. Yet, the most comprehensible sequences in the film are when they encounter others like them. So, to balance the need for human interaction to move the film's narrative forward with the need to convey the fact that only a few humans are still alive, many cuts were made.

The setting of the film is pretty well exactly how I imagined the gray post-disaster landscape that McCarthy outlined, although I did not quite imagine so many abandoned cars for some reason (but I put that fault on myself and my inability to imagine anything not made explicit in the text). The art and set direction kept everything gray and covered in ash. This bland background made the flashback sequences with the Woman (Charlize Theron) more powerful, with pastel colors giving a sense of life before the world decayed beyond repair.

I cannot say enough about how impressed I am with Viggo Mortensen's portrayal of the Man. Although his acting is not over-the-top in this movie, it is perfect for the role he plays. And for a movie that spends ninety percent of its time focused on two characters, the minor characters were critical for making this film great. Robert Duvall's portrayal of the Old Man is heartbreakingly beautiful, tears welling in his eyes as he recalls the ultimate fate of his absent son. Guy Pearce expertly suggests his trustworthiness with subtleness but clarity.

The biggest problem this movie had was the narrative structure - the fact that it had a clear one. In the book, McCarthy was able to convey a sense of timelessness, or, rather, a lack of time. Every gray day blends into one another, and there is no way of distinguishing each. There's no sense of order to the days. Yet, because of the linear nature of a movie, this movie takes on a timeline that the book does not have. This is the film's biggest artistic departure from the book.

I highly recommend this movie. Everyone should read the novel first, of course. My only warning is that you need to be prepared to suffer through a pretty deep, depressed mood for a while after the end (even though it ends on a hopeful note).

Bullets Over Broadway

In this 1920's timepiece comedy by Woody Allen, David Shayne (John Cusack) is an up-and-coming playwright who wants to get his new play produced. But, when the money dries up, his producer turns to the mob - who agree to fund the play, on the condition that Olive (Jennifer Tilly) - the boss's girlfriend - gets to play the lead. Keeping Olive happy is no small feat, though, and so her bodyguard Cheech (Chazz Palmentari) starts to offer advice to make the play better. Cheech's tips are surprisingly good, and he takes on a larger role helping Shayne finish the play, even to the point of betraying his boss's wishes! (There's also a subplot about Shayne having an affair with another actress (played by Dianne Wiest) who is also jockeying for a better role in the play.)

As much as I like Woody Allen's work (such as "Annie Hall" (duh!) and "Manhattan"), this film took me a little while to dig in and enjoy. At first, the 1920's setting came off as a little too cartoonish or like a high school play. The costumes were just too clean and the sets almost simplistic. Once I got past these superficial issues, though - and the fact that John Cusack was playing the Woody Allen role - I was able to enjoy it.

Part of the reason it took me so long to get past those features was the fact that the movie spent so much time in exposition. The characters were so busy being characters - and fleshing out every detail of their personality - that it was nearly an hour before the plot started to move forward. Cheech is basically set furniture for the first half of the film, although he turns out to be one of the most dynamic and important characters. Once Cheech starts to speak up, though, things start to move along and the film takes on a great vibrancy.

Although the movie was technically a comedy, the comedy itself veered from Allen's typical high-wit with a hint of slapstick style. This humor was much more situational and character based, with most of the verbal jokes (such as Wiest's constant "No! No! Don't speak!" repetition) coming off with a dry mock-seriousness, to the point where I was not sure whether or not to laugh.

Despite all my complaints here, though, I want to make clear that the movie had an enjoyable, simple charm. I had fun watching this movie. It did not require me to push emotional buttons or think too deeply about symbolic meanings, but, at the same time, it was was not bland or boring. It threaded a tough needle that way.

I recommend this movie because of its charm and effect. Just make sure you drink some coffee to help you get through the slow opening.

Read Hard

Five Years of Great Writing from "The Believer"

Edited by Ed Park and Heidi Julavits

For those of you who do not know, “The Beliver” is the monthly, non-fiction left-jab to “McSweeney’s” quarterly, fictional right-uppercut (although, considering I know nothing about boxing, I might have the whole metaphor flip-flopped). This book collects the best (arguably) pieces from the first five years of the magazine’s history and puts them in one place for those of us who either did not know the magazine existed or – as in my case – could not the darn periodical.

I added “arguably” to a sentence in my opening argument not because I did not feel that some of the essays were great, but rather because I could not tell whether some of the essays were great or not. One of the factors that makes “The Believer” such a fantastic magazine – the editors’ lack of inhibition in publishing essays regarding just about any subject or theme – also contributes to the book’s biggest weakness. For many of the essays, I could decipher that the piece was well written – but I lacked the cultural capital to make it accessible. Frankly, in some cases, I had no more than a shadowing understanding of what the essay was about.

The perfect example of this inability to relate to the essay is Franklin Bruno’s piece “In Praise of Termites,” which discusses the life and work of film critic Manny Farber. The article repeatedly referenced Farber’s writings on film theory – which I have not read, and I doubt most non-film major people have read. The article also discusses how Farber interpreted several movies which I have never heard of and, obviously, never seen. By the time I finished reading this seventeen page monster, I only had a vague understanding of Farber’s work.

The book does have many great essays, though. (And, in retrospect, I should have probably started by discussing those pieces instead.) One of my favorites is Paul LaFarge’s explanation / history / personal narrative regarding “Dungeons & Dragons.” LaFarge infuses D&D metaphors throughout the essay to help explain the game (such as “entering the cave” instead of “learning about the game). Yet, after introducing the essence and dynamics of the game to the readers, the essay shifts into a history of how the game was developed and what happened to the intellectual property rights. Finally, the third act begins a personal narrative of how the writer game to play a game of D&D with the game’s most recognized developer (there were many, we learn earlier).

Another fantastic piece – and perhaps my favorite – is “The Sinatra Doctrine” by Rich Cohen. Cohen’s essay fantastically weaves the story of the song “My Way” together with a the song’s most famous performers and how they came to sing it. We are strung along through a history which begins with Paul Anka writing the song as a farewell for Frank Sinatra, explains how that farewell actually revitalized Sinatra’s career, connects Sinatra’s disdain for rock and roll to how Elvis eventually began performing the song himself, and reveals how punk rock’s rejection of Elvis’s cooption of rock and roll’s soul led to the Sid Vicious performing the song. Ultimately, we are lead back to Paul Anka – the original writer (though he stole the tune from an unsuccessful French pop piece) – still performing his most famous piece of music, although he did not make it famous himself.

Other highlights include William T. Vollmann’s meditation on the destruction of war – “And Suppress the Unpleasant Things” – and Joe Hagan’s search for the greatest musician to ever disappear off the face of the earth – “Transit Byzantium.” Ginger Strand’s examination of the history and purpose of aquariums – “Why Look at Fish?” – was cute and enlightening. Jonathan Lethem’s “The American Vicarious” takes a snapshot of Nathaniel West’s short novels and their relevance to modern society, although I felt that it was over before the intellectual momentum began.

I recommend this book, but only for people who are ready for an intellectual workout and are not afraid to find out how little they actually know about significant parts of our modern American (or in some cases, international) culture. At least I can use what I found out I don’t know as a springboard to find out more next time I am at the library.

Rolling Stone - Issue 1107 (June 24, 2010)

Cover: Jay-Z - "King of America"

This issue seemed like it was put together by a bunch of 7th graders affected by ADD. The articles often seemed half-baked, vague, or downright meaningless. Mark Binelli's cover piece on Jay-Z meandered but did not provide much more insight than could be scrounged up online at a few sites, and Brian Haitt's article on Jonah Hill made the actor look more like an angsty teenager instead of the comic genius image they clearly had in mind. Even the six page coverage of "The Dance Takeover" felt like a bunch of snapshots that had been thrown together at the last minute.

The National Affairs desk salvages the issue (as it often does, it seems). Tim Dickinson's coverage of the "The Spill, the Scandal, and the President" effectively breaks down who is to blame for what part of the Deepwater Horizon explosion and the ensuing oil spill. Granted, in the rapid-fire pace of the modern news media, some of Dickinson's information was outdated by the time it went to press, but that does not take away from the importance of what Dickinson is saying - including the audacity of BP in copy-pasting whole sections of their "Oil Spill Response Plan" for the Gulf from a previous plan for the Arctic. A short interview with political genius (and personal hero) James Carville exemplifies the indignation Dickinson intends for us to feel, as Carville calls for "criminal prosecution" of BP's executives, claiming that "watching another CEO in handcuffs" will make other companies act in a safer manner.

Highlights from the "Reviews" section include the new album by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - "Mojo" - and the Gaslight Anthem's "American Slang" getting the best write-ups. I was also surprised to see 1990's bubble-gum-pop sensations Hanson getting a decent showing for their latest effort.