Some Ideas, Or Resolutions, To Be Carried Out In The New Year

1. Shave less. No one at work cares.

2. Stop washing my hands after I go to the bathroom. No one can tell. (Unless of course it's one of those disaster/emergency situations, in which case I'll be scrubbing thoroughly. Maybe.)

3. Kill co-worker Joyce, approx. 57(?), and quietly dispose of body beneath floor of cubicle. Refuse to acknowledge beating of subsequent tell-tale heart.

4. Go wild with credit card.

5. Arrange fictional death to solve problems caused by #4 above.

6. Punch the first person I hear talking during a movie. The rest of the audience will cower in silent fear.

7. Shoes with no socks: making a comeback.

8. Similarly, socks with no shoes: makes the office feel like home.

9. Bolster courage and ask boss, Jennifer, what's up with her extremely lazy/possibly genetically messed up right eye. (Pretty sure it's the right one. Hard to get direct look.)

10. Buy dog and let him crap anywhere, city ordinances be damned.

11. Assign unusual/slightly derogatory nicknames for colleagues: Ashes McGee, Betty Boozehound, etc. Refuse to acknowledge inevitable looks of confusion from targets of said mockery.

12. Refer to Orthodox co-worker Kyle's workspace as his "Jewbicle."

13. Ask HR to hire Jewish guy named Kyle so I can actually do #12 above.

14. Ask Mormon boss Scott what the "deal" is with his people.

15. Tell Scott the idea for #14 above came from annoying co-worker Amanda. Co-opt Amanda's nicer computer.

16. Go to the grocery store in my bathrobe. Alternately cite laziness or mental illness when asked by employees why I'm barely dressed. Propose marriage to donut rack if it looks like mental illness excuse isn't working.

17. Figure out some way to continue to mooch off parents and loved ones (possibly through sister as middleman).

18. Take up guitar "for the chicks"; abandon around March when I realize it isn't working.

Behold, Yet Ten More Films You Should See, Etc.

I think this is pretty familiar by now (if not, see the first and second installments). Here are ten more films generally overlooked or underappreciated by too many members of my generation. Don't rent them; buy them.

1. The Good Girl (2002)
2. Igby Goes Down (2002)
3. The Spanish Prisoner (1997)
4. Sunshine (1999)
5. Romero (1989)
6. Zero Effect (1998)
7. Falling Down (1993)
8. Enigma (2001)
9. Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (1988)
10. Glengarry Glen Ross (1992)

Ten More Movies You Need To See In Order To Become A Valuable Member of Society

I've come up with ten more movies that more people haven't seen or heard of, or maybe ones on which they've been unwilling to take a chance. See these if you get a chance.

1. Limbo (1999)
2. The Player (1993)
3. Lone Star (1996)
4. The Station Agent (2003)
5. Dark City (1998)
6. Amores Perros (2000) (This, too, is in Spanish with English subtitles. Deal.)
7. Clay Pigeons (1998) (The first time I ever heard the Old 97's.)
8. Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989)
9. Croupier (1998)
10. Gattaca (1997)

Words of Comfort and Consolation In These Times of Trial and Tribulation, Inspired By The Moral Leadership of the Current Administration

You live with the cancer you have, not the disease you wish you had.

You come home from Iraq with the unemployable disabilities you have, not the arms and legs you wish you had.

You tell your kids to live with the public school they have, not the school they wish they had.

You live with the president you have, not the president you wish you had.

You live with the poor medical insurance you have, not the insurance you wish you had.

You live on the reservation you have, not the sacred lands you wish you had.

You live with the intolerance you have, not the tolerance you wish you had.

You live with the sadness you have, not the happiness you wish you had.

Hey, s*** happens.

Review: "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou"

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
Starring Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Willem Dafoe, Cate Blanchett
Written by Noah Baumbach and Wes Anderson
Directed by Wes Anderson

3.5 stars (out of 4)

It’s been too long. Too long, I say, since Wes Anderson released a film and gave us another gift to treasure as we stumble through the long cold nights of an era when almost anything is considered comedy. Anderson’s first three films were reliably brilliant, and he doesn’t disappoint with his fourth, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Indeed, The Life Aquatic may be the closest Anderson has yet come to telling the compassionate, wandering, subtle story of absurd characters doing brave things in bizarre circumstances that has lurked behind each of his films. Bottle Rocket (1996), amazing as it is, made more sense after the release of Rushmore (1998); the two points began to form a meaningful line, one bravely continued in The Royal Tenenbaums (2001). Tenenbaums, with its larger cast and sprawling scope, was a gamble that barely paid off, almost groaning in some scenes under the weight of its own self-aware quirkiness and casting coups. But like Dignan and Max Fischer before him, Royal was able to stumble upon the truth of grace, acceptance and growing up. Dim-witted thief Dignan proclaimed, “They’ll never catch me. I’m f***ing innocent,” before his eventual capture and incarceration. Max, after finding and losing his first ideal love, said, “I didn’t get hurt that bad.” And Royal confessed to ex-wife Etheline concerning her new love interest, “Now I get it. He’s everything I’m not. I love you....” Steve Zissou (Bill Murray) comes to a similar moment in his own life, although how he gets there wonderfully pushes the envelope of Anderson’s mainstream storytelling and presents us with a film that must be viewed more than once to soak up the emotion of the characters and the depth of Anderson’s obvious joy that has permeated every frame, cut and spoken word. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou is a phenomenal modern comedy, one worthy of Anderson’s name and talent and one we’ll be enjoying for years.

Steve Zissou is the latest in Anderson’s line of aimless wanderers, an often callous oceanographer running a ship (the Belafonte) and crew desperately in need of repair. At a gala screening of his latest documentary feature, Steve meets Ned Plimpton (Owen Wilson), a pilot from Kentucky with a cartoonish accent who claims to be Steve’s son from a long-ago tryst. Ned agrees to join Team Zissou aboard a ship already more crowded than normal with interns from the University of Alaska, reporter Jane Winslett-Richardson (Cate Blanchett), and “bond company stooge” Bill (Bud Cort) who’s keeping track of the money. Steve and Co. are ostensibly out to capture and kill a giant jaguar shark responsible for killing Steve’s old crewmate Esteban (Seymour Cassel), but this is just an excuse to get the Belafonte out to sea and let the Andersonian quirks run wild. Cassel, like Murray, has been in Anderson’s last three films, and Wilson has been in all four. Sadly missing here are Kumar Pallana and Andrew Wilson (brother to Owen and Luke), who each played substantial roles in Anderson’s first three films.

First mate Klaus (Willem Dafoe) feels underused and overlooked, but his adulation of Steve knows no bounds. Confronting an unhappy crew at one point, Steve draws a line on the deck and gives fairly vague instructions about whether his supporters should cross the line or stay back. Klaus proudly crosses the line in support, only to realize from Steve’s hurt and confused look that he might have accidentally betrayed him, at which point Klaus asks Steve to start over so he can do it right. Trust me, it’s funnier than it reads. Dafoe entertains throughout with an amazing sense of comedic timing and startling commitment to playing second fiddle. Each crew member wears a red wool cap, but only Klaus’s has a dangling ball; I don’t know if there’s any significance to this other than Anderson wanting to give Willem Dafoe a slightly fancier hat, but it’s a nice touch representative of Anderson’s fantastic attention to detail when crafting a world so similar to, yet fundamentally different from, our own.

Wilson has called Aquatic the oddest thing Anderson has done so far, and it’s hard to disagree. Even a story of mentally unstable low-level criminals looks balanced next to the tale of an oceanographer who, while out for revenge against the shark that killed his best friend, has a run-in with pirates and must rescue a member of his crew, meets a man who might be his son, and discovers a new breed of animal altogether. Pieces of The Royal Tenenbaums and almost all of The Life Aquatic feel like plays dreamed up and performed by the Max Fischer Players. The former featured a 375th Street YMCA and Gypsy cabs in a New York via Neverland, and there are scenes in the latter of such absurd heroism and sharp humor they could only come from the mind of the child prodigy who got into private school by writing a “little one-act about Watergate.” Computer effects, an Anderson first, are used in The Life Aquatic to breathe life into colorful, bizarre specimens that could only exist in the world of the Baumer. In one scene, Ned and Steve argue as they wind their way through the boat, no longer the actual boat but a cross-section used earlier as Steve narrates a guide to the ship. They enter and exit through half doors and hallways, winding their way up in one continuous tracking shot so graceful it disappears into the mise-en-scene and keeps the focus on the story. I was reminded of the tracking shot that closed out Tenenbaums: everyone standing in the street by the fire truck, each reconciling their own relationships as the camera never cut away. Additionally, when guns are fired in The Life Aquatic, they don’t blaze with the thunder of your typical Bruckheimerian pistol, but pop like, well, the props used by actors in Max’s “Heaven and Hell.” And this is Anderson: telling a story by telling a story.

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou isn’t my favorite Wes Anderson movie; that place is held in my heart by Rushmore, and has been for years. But Anderson demonstrates in The Life Aquatic, absurdity and all, the warmth and honesty that made me care about Max Fischer in the first place, and he does so with enough passion and clarity to assure us he’ll be making movies for quite a while. I can hardly wait.

The Best Show You'll Never Watch

Now that reality TV has begun to ebb, critics are wondering if American audiences have the strength of will to return to sitcoms. After years of formulaic writing and remastered laugh tracks, the reality boom of the past few years has given us sitcom characters made from everyday people and a few well-placed edits. Donald Trump has evicted Lou Grant.

But I think audiences are stronger than critics suspect. They'll return to sitcoms, even/especially the bad ones, despite worries to the contrary. And they'll do it because, when presented with genuinely good comedy, most viewers cock their head and stare at the screen in wonder, as a dog might if his owner began walking on his hands. Case in point: Arrested Development (Fox, Sundays, 8:30p/7:30c).

Arrested Development details the exploits of the wealthy, shallow, eccentric and largely clueless members of the Bluth family. When family head and company CEO George (Jeffrey Tambor) is jailed for cooking the books, son Michael (Jason Bateman) must step in and hold everything together. Michael has a twin sister married to a psychologist-turned-actor, a son in love with his own cousin, a domineering mother with a passion for booze, a brother with a struggling career as a magician, and another brother who suffers easily from panic attacks. Shot with handheld cameras and exuding an improv/documentary vibe, Arrested Development is one of the smartest new shows to come around in years.

And you'll never see it.

Despite poor ratings last year (its first season), the show garnered mountains of critical praise and even snagged a few Emmys for its work, including Outstanding Writing for a Comedy Series, Outstanding Directing for a Comedy Series, and Outstanding Comedy Series. But even the unexpected (though deserved) awards and the resulting media awareness couldn't get America to watch: Arrested Development still regularly finishes near the bottom of the Nielsens.

I'd implore you to watch, but the part of me that's been here before and will be again knows it's of no use to persuade people who don't want to be persuaded. For every show allowed to find an audience and live despite initially poor ratings, dozens more are quickly canceled. I'm glad at least that DVD technology lets us keep these shows around. So just go down to the store and buy Arrested Development. You might as well act as if it's already gone; the show's too good to survive much longer.

Review: "Ocean's Twelve"

Ocean’s Twelve
Starring George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts, Catherine Zeta-Jones, et al.
Directed by Steven Soderbergh

2.5 stars (out of 4)

Plans for Ocean’s Twelve began three years ago, after the successful release of Ocean’s Eleven (2001), both under the direction of Steven Soderbergh. The first film was a love letter from Soderbergh to its stars, with George Clooney and Brad Pitt feasting on the image and idea of themselves as nicely dressed rogues and rakes, hookers with hearts of fool’s gold. Clooney and Co. outsmarted mean old Andy Garcia out of more than $150 million, and this time he’s returned to ask for it back. Even as justifications for sequels go, this one is pretty weak, and what’s worse, everyone on screen seems to know it. The first film popped with life and self-aware happiness, a joy at knowing what it was. The dialogue didn’t have to sparkle: we were paying Clooney and Julia Roberts to sparkle instead. But everything bright and enjoyable about Ocean’s Eleven has been dulled and beaten down for Ocean’s Twelve. Everyone involved is just going through the motions, biding their time on something easy; beautiful strangers photographed sadly, if that’s your thing.

I could go into more detail about the plot, this time much more convoluted and far less rewarding than last time, but I won’t. Danny Ocean and his pals have to come up with enough cash to pay back Terry Benedict (Garcia), so they do a number of jobs around Europe before winning in the end. This time Catherine Zeta-Jones is thrown in as Rusty’s (Brad Pitt) love interest. Will she and Rusty reconcile? Will Danny and friends escape the clutches of the cold-hearted Benedict? Will it even matter? All will be well.

Gene Siskel, when appraising a film, often liked to ask, "Is this movie more or less interesting than a documentary of the same actors having lunch?" He would have been dumbfounded by Ocean’s Twelve, which sidesteps the issue entirely by collapsing the distinction. The idea behind the question, although still true, becomes irrelevant.

Ocean’s Twelve does its predecessor one better by wandering from self-awareness into the borderlands of metafilm. I know some might disagree with the breadth of my interpretation, and I know there are films (e.g., The Player [1993]) that do the category more justice. The first film was littered with pop-culture references and in-jokes meant to hook the audience and make us feel smart for being in on the in-joke; the poker scene in which Topher Grace and Shane West played caricatures (I hope) of their publicly perceived selves was only funny because we recognized these people and knew their real names. These people get paid to be watched and act like no one’s watching, but when they pretend to be themselves it’s as if some mystical barrier has been broken, and we, the audience, are allowed inside someplace new. At least, that’s what we’re encouraged to tell ourselves. Even the closing credits for Ocean’s Eleven depended more on the audience's knowledge of Hollywood than any developed sense of humor: the last credit, "And introducing Julia Roberts as Tess," is a self-loving toss-off because (1) who doesn’t know Julia Roberts by now?, (2) Soderbergh, who directed both Oceans, also directed Roberts in Erin Brockovich, for which they each won Oscars (the justice of this to be discussed another day), (3) we’re supposed to laugh because we know (1) and (2), and (4) we’re supposed to feel smart at laughing in (3), and so on ad inf.

But whereas Ocean’s Eleven threw a wink to the audience, Ocean’s Twelve looks us straight in the eye. If Eleven made us feel like we’re in on the joke (and thrilled about feeling in, and smart about being thrilled, and here we go again down the spiral, etc.), then Twelve tells us it knows it's joking; we are only in on what we’re allowed by the film to know. When the gang reunites at the beginning of the film, some argue about why they’re referred to as "Ocean’s Eleven," saying they didn’t know Ocean was so proprietary. They’re as good as telling us they know all about the first film and would like to know what they’re doing in a sequel. In a shift from pandering to the audience to almost mocking them, Soderbergh and crew have crafted a film that serves no purpose other than to remind the audience every moment that they’re watching a film. In one fascinating sequence, the boys decide to use Tess as a distraction to get close to a Faberge egg they’ve been eyeing (don’t ask). They note that Tess looks a lot like Julia Roberts, and so one party dress and pillow up her skirt later (she was pregnant, remember?), Tess is parading around saying she’s Julia Roberts, and the metaphysical water only gets murkier when she/we run into Bruce Willis (played by Bruce Willis, thankfully) in a hotel. Rather than let the cameo go, Bruce goes up to see Tess/Julia, who freaks out when she sees him because he is, after all, a movie star, and she’s just an ordinary thief’s wife. Bruce asks here about Danny, a perfectly valid question because it means Danny Ocean to Tess and Daniel Moder to Julia. They then call Julia’s house for some flimsy reason, and when the "real" (?) Julia answers the phone we are provided the spectacle of Julia Roberts pretending to be someone else pretending to be Julia Roberts talking on the phone to Julia Roberts. The entire sequence is not only unnecessary but disruptive: we’re missing out on key, or at least relevant, action while Julia pretends to be herself via someone fictional.

Despite this, Ocean’s Twelve manages to stumble across a few well-placed gags and moments, and it’s only because of the blinding wattage of the cast that the whole thing doesn’t go down in flames by the second reel. The film ends with everyone playing poker, drinking, listening to music, etc., and we get the feeling that this is what they’d rather be doing anyway. The scene doesn’t even feel like part of a cohesive narrative but simply an excuse to put everyone in the same room again and watch them. They acknowledge and condone our voyeurism, telling us before we can argue that everything will be okay. At this point we’re no longer sure if we’re watching characters interact or actors, and that glint in Clooney’s eye says it all: "Exactly."

Inside Jokes From My Office, 12.10.04

Remember how Allen couldn't stop blowing his nose?

Chocolate in P.E. land!

...that emphysemic cough...

What's with the magician?

Joyce was all, "Whaaaat?"

Review: "Closer"

Closer
Starring Jude Law, Julia Roberts, Clive Owen, Natalie Portman
Written by Patrick Marber (from his play)
Directed by Mike Nichols

3 stars (out of 4)

“I love you. I love every part of you that hurts.” –-Closer

“…a ‘low woman’ I’ve fallen in love with and it was the end of me. But to fall in love does not mean to love. One can fall in love and still hate. Remember that! I say it now while there’s still joy in it.” –-Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov


The most dangerous thing a filmmaker can do is tip his hand and reveal his secrets, desires, and true motivation. Like a lover waiting to hear his words returned, a filmmaker in that moment of total honesty is totally vulnerable; it is now up to us to accept his story or turn away. And this rarely, if ever, works. Almost no writer or director will offer up his characters this way; no one (Lucas comes to mind first, but there are many others) ever copped to the fact that he was looking to make a quick buck.

This moment of revelation in Closer comes fairly soon, at an exhibition by photographer Anne (Julia Roberts). At the show to flirt with her is struggling writer Dan (Jude Law), and while Dan wheedles Anne, his girlfriend, Alice (Natalie Portman), flirts with Anne’s boyfriend, Larry (Clive Owen, who played Dan in the original stage production), across the room. Alice tells Larry that the entire show is nothing but lies, a series of “sad strangers photographed beautifully.” She elaborates, telling Larry that the photographs are meant to reassure the viewer of a meaningful life, which is a lie, etc., but her further opinions pale next to that first bright line: sad strangers, photographed beautifully. There’s the rub.

We begin with Dan meeting Alice after she’s hit (not seriously) by a car in London, where the rest of this mess plays out. He takes her to the hospital and blows off work to give her a tour of the town, and before you know it they’ve been together several months and Dan’s flirting with Anne, who’s taking his picture for the jacket of his forthcoming novel. Dan and Anne share a brief, passionless kiss in her studio before Alice enters. There’s not any reason for Dan to like Anne, other than she exists to be pursued. Always looking for greener grass, Dan doesn’t really want that scotch on the rocks: he just wants to order it.

Closer is all beginnings and ends of relationships; nothing of the middle here, not even the gradual anabasis to breakup/divorce that you’d expect to see. The four main players form every possible (heterosexual) combination, with a few excursions to a prostitute thrown in for good measure. And although there is nudity (a few scenes in a strip club), we never see anyone actually having sex; they’re too busy talking it to death. It’s been a while since I learned a new word at the movies (“perineum” not exactly being a dinner-table word), so I guess I can thank Nichols et al. for that. The film’s only about 100 minutes long but feels longer because every one of those minutes is raw, brutal and uncompromising.

The film brims with acting, directing and writing talent. You won’t find any pedestrian titles like “Six months later” or hear dialogue like “I sure am glad we moved in together four months ago, right after that day we met.” Attention is required here, another sign that we’re in grownup territory. If you go see this movie, which you should, be aware that you could wind up watching it with people who can’t understand it and only bought the ticket because Julia Roberts is on the poster. Nichols throws a lot of material at us in a very short time, and I find myself mulling it over days after I saw the film and also amazed that I’m mulling over something so ostensibly inconsequential. I’ve rated it as highly as I have because, although difficult to watch, the awful story manages to stick with you after you’ve left the theater, to resonate long after you want it to stop. No one ever said they’d all be easy to watch.

The film brings us, yes, close to the subjects of the film, but only situationally and never emotionally. We get to know a bit about the habits and haunts of these people, but are never anywhere near caring for them. They are cold, calculating, vindictive, and prone to making arbitrary decisions. They’re doing the wrong things for the wrong reasons. Alice is the sanest one, or at least the most understandable and consistent, with her stubborn refusal to form to the mold of the other three.

What are we meant to take from this? Is this what relationships are supposed to be, or are becoming? No, but it’s the way some of them are. Four people so desperate to find something they don’t even know what they’re looking for, or why; yes, I suppose I can understand that well without too much trouble. As for the ending, I will not reveal it except to say that, instead of the hope or turnaround it was meant to convey, I was too nonplussed by then to feel anything other than detachment and a growing fear that the preceding sound and fury might really have signified nothing.

Life Lessons From "Friday the 13th, Part 3"

1. Slasher movie + nudity = entertainment.
Slasher movie + character introspection = boredom.

2. This is the movie where Jason gets that iconic hockey mask. Most of life's problems can be traced back to one moment, one crossroads.

3. Never piss off the local biker gang (even if it's a small with just one woman and two men, named Foxy, Loco and Ali, respectively).

4. A machete through the shoulder and subsequent lynching aren't enough to stop someone who wants to keep going. Moral: chase those dreams, kids.

5. There is no accounting for personal taste.

The Best Movies You've Never Seen

I've seen more than a thousand films in my life. At only 22, this is no small accomplishment, although others my age have seen as many or more. For instance, one of my roommates, an old friend from college, has probably seen more movies than I have, but I take more pride in my list (I actually made one) than I would of his were I in his shoes. Why? Because, with a few exceptions and the transgressions of youth (I'd prefer to forget that I've seen 3 Ninjas and other less-than-exceptional elementary school flicks), most of the movies I've seen are, to a degree, better than others. I care too much about movies to simply see everything released. I'd rather not put myself through things like White Chicks or Alexander if I can help it. And that's where my roommate and I differ: if he's seen it and I haven't, the film's probably mainstream; if I've seen it and he hasn't, it's probably independent, older or conventionally ignored. I don't mean to sound elitist; on the contrary, being exclusionary does more to harm than good to my cause of getting people to see more movies and more kinds of movies.

With that in mind, I've put together a list of a few films I feel are unappreciated (or unheard of) by many members of my generation. Rent them, if only to drop their titles at a party and make people believe you're more knowledgeable than they'd expected.

1. The Limey (1999)
2. Donnie Darko (2001)
3. Bottle Rocket (1996)
4. Hard Eight (1996)
5. Following (1998)
6. Abre Los Ojos (1997) (Yes, this is in Spanish with English subtitles. Deal.)
7. Election (1999)
8. The Conversation (1974)
9. Breaking the Waves (1996)
10. A Midnight Clear (1992)

That'll do for now, although I'm sure I'll think of more later. I always do. But the preceding are good movies that not many people my age have taken the time to see. I'd like to see that change.