Filling the Christgau Void with Low-Rent Absurdity and "Wire" References: Fave Music of '06

It’s that time of year when every critic and music geek with an iPod full of Cambodian Gary Numan covers foists their pointless top 10 lists upon an indifferent interwebosphere. But why read blogs with names like PickledBeetRhapsody and My Old-Thyme Aorta when you can stay here and find out what a guy who works at a medical journal, has seven readers and has never played an instrument thinks about the ok-but-nothing-great year in music?

HOTT ALBUMMZZ:



1. Scott Walker – The Drift. Oh the bitter irony. Just a few posts ago I was bemoaning the rise of annoying, mogwai-voiced, Legend of Zelda reject Joanna Newsom, now I go and award warbly wonder Walker wecord-of-the-year. Uhm... I sorta contain multitudes, I guess. I won’t pretend this was the album I listened to most this year, but it was genuinely unique (an almost impossibly rare distinction at this point), darkly compelling and frequently brilliant in its Penderecki-meets-Zachary Brimstead clatter. Plus, how many other singers have the balls to use an evil Donald Duck voice on one track? There’s gotta be more of a sense of humor at work here than is readily acknowledged, in addition to the creepiness. The big question is, will anyone else ever follow in Walker’s footsteps and go from former teen pop idol to reclusive, avant garde, operatic artiste? Usher, get one cacophonous orchestra and slab of percussive frozen meat, please.


2. V/A – International Sad Hits vol. 1. A compilation of tracks from four artists - Kazuki Tomokawa and Kan Mikami from Japan, Kim Doo Soo from Korea and Fikret Kizilok from Turkey. I think it’s a no-brainer that I would buy a well-compiled comp simply called “Sad Hits." Add “International” to the title though and we’re really cooking, since you don't necessarily know if the lyrics are insipid in their native tongue. It’s all mournful folk music onto which you can project your own epic tales of woe. In mine I’m an exiled balloonist traversing the clouds with my superintelligent panda friend Sho-Bing. We come across a city in the clouds that has lots of cool lamps and is ruled by a young Mimi Rogers. Then I get into lots of crossbow battles with the Lemur People* who are running roughshod and breaking all the lamps. Plus, I’ve got a pornstache. Oops, wait, most of that was meant to go in the blurb for the “Non-Threateningly Bizarre Hits” comp. Pretend you just read something else.

3. Sonic Youth – Rather Ripped. The numbering in this list is sort of arbitrary, but for me this ended up being probably the most-listened-to rock album released this year. It’s also their best since ________. At the risk of my harsh words devastating him and causing him to dress sloppily, I won't miss Jim O'Rourke.

4. Mission of Burma – The Obliterati. So were they saving up that crack about Nancy Reagan’s head for 20+ years or what?

5. The Gossip – Standing in the Way of Control. The songwriting continues to improve and the riffs and singing are more righteous than ever.


6. Jay Reatard – Blood Visions. Great, moody, noir-edged punk somewhat reminiscent of the Wipers.


7. Neko Case – Fox Confessor Brings the Flood. Have you heard? She’s kinda hot. But now everybody’s all about Jenny Lewis. Sorry, but I picture Jenny Lewis having a bunch of Muppeteers and nimrods in Christmas sweaters as her frustrated platonic friends, all of them drinking strawberry shakes and singing along to Bryan Adams' Greatest Hits (what the hell am I talking about?). Give me Neko any day. I don’t like this as much as Blacklisted but it’s still great and more ambitious.



8. Bob Dylan – Modern Times. For people who thought “One Froggy Evening” wasn’t actually froggy enough.



9. Yo La Tengo – I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Make You Go Out to the Backyard, Pick a Switch, Then Come Back Here So I Can Beat Your Ass With It. James McNew talks tough in these album titles but let’s hear him try to cut a convincing promo on The Magnificent Muraco. Yeah, I thought so.

10. Ghostface Killah – Fish Scale. Did you catch his 30 Rock cameo a few weeks ago? Can The Ghostface Variety Hour be far behind (and if so, has U-God been practicing his plate-spinning skillz)?


HOTT JAMMZZ (as seen on Club MTV®)

(Gnarls Barkley's most ingenious costumes yet)

1. Gnarls Barkley – "The Crazy Song" (aka "Captain Crazy"). Did a Kidz Bop version ever come out? Listing this here reminded me of this maddening, idiotic, Chuck Klosterman-penned NY Times article from June. Seriously, this article’s crimes are legion and it would take a whole seperate post to get into it. Why didn’t I do that six months ago, anyway? Is it too late? No, it’s never too late (“What about the fact that no one cares?”) “No one cares” is the new “people care,” wise guy.

2. Robert Pollard – "Love is Stronger Than Witchcraft." Easily one of his best non-GBV tracks, ranking with the likes of “Alone, Stinking and Unafraid,” “Supernatural Car Lover” and “Gifford’s Enchanted Sweatshirt"... whoops, I think I just made that last one up. I can't really tell anymore.

3. Junior Boys – "In the Morning." Low-key electro(-ish) pop, pulsating yet melancholic (“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff”). Huh? (“C’mon, be more obtuse. Just a little more, c’mon.”) Uhm, okay… uh… the supple groove is like a shimmering chimera, subtly shifting in dynamics while churning dancefloors like a worldweary buttersmith (“Oooooh yeah, that’s it! Blog me hard, baby!!”). OK, this is too creepy. Next track… (“No wait, talk to me about Destroyer! C’mon, Rubies, baby, RUBIES!! C’MON!!”).

4. Gnarls Barkley – "Smiley Faces." I may actually like this even better than “Crazy” but I don’t want to piss off any Hilton family members or troubled, schizophrenic Kidz Boppers who have access to loaded weapons by admitting it.

5. Clipse – "Wamp Wamp (What it Do)." I don’t completely get the hype around the album yet but this song is awesome (“awesome” being a popular slang term among contemporary urban youths). It would no doubt match up perfectly with the next freaky “Little Superstar” Bollywood footage that'll be dug up and turned into an online “sensation.”

6. DC Snipers – "All Humans are Garbage." I wouldn’t go so far as to call Missle Sunset album of the year, but at least it blew up and knocked Panic at THE! disco off the charts… oh, wait…



7. Cat Power – "The Greatest." Whatever happened to that possible SNL audition Chan alluded to a while back? Maybe she should apply herself instead to finally wrting a song half as depressing as the average Seth Meyers sketch.

8. Justin Timberlake – "Sexy Back." The first time I heard this, I didn’t know what it was and thought that Peaches had hooked up with some hot shit producer or something. Then I found out it was by this Henry-lookin’ motherfucker (wait, you don’t think "Henry" will catch on as a derogatory term for guys with overgrown infant heads? You’re wrong. Just dead wrong.) Do you suppose New Kids on the Block are bitter because they didn’t have Timbaland taking an inexplicable interest in them back in the day? This song is also entertaining because it presumes that sexy was somehow undervalued as a commodity for a time, like it was off somewhere taking a bethonged power nap.

9. Portastatic – "Sour Shores." Poor Mac doesn’t get the attention he deserves. Even now, I can’t think of anything to say about this song. Except it’s good and all. Damn.

10. Hank IV – "Got Got." This song is ok, it’s pretty rockin,’ but the sole reason it’s top ten is because it was inspired by Omar from The Wire. Note to all musicians: I will grant any music about or inspired by The Wire a slot on next year’s prestigious top ten list. I don’t care about your previous crimes against music. James Blunt can croon to a velvet painting of Snoop in his next video; Phil Collins can rewrite “Another Day in Paradise” so that it’s about Dukie; Joanna Newsom can record an 18-minute track for kazoo orchestra about Herc stealing the Triforce of Power from Ganon. I don’t care, it’ll all go on the list. Bet that.

(Still trying to forget Michael K. Williams' role in "Trapped in the Closet")

*Originally it was the "Manatee People" but I've since learned that manatees are off limits. That'll teach me to stray from lemur country.

The Langley Schools Music Project circa 2048?

Brian Turner recently posted a link on WFMU's Beware of the Blog to a fairly jaw-dropping YouTube clip of The Young at Heart Chorus covering Sonic Youth's "Schizophrenia." This was the first I'd heard of this group of senior citizens who have been staging theater and musical productions since 1983 (with an obviously high turnover rate in the line-up). Recently, there was a British documentary about the group that yielded the Sonic Youth clip, as well as the one below - a guy hooked to an oxygen machine, covering Coldplay's "Fix You." Music lesson of the day: renditions by ailing senior citizens seem to immediately lend gravitas to any Bed Head-drenched eunuch's schlocky, soccer mom-friendly, musical weepfest. If Rick Rubin is ever granted the power to re-animate the dead, look out; there won't be a dry eye in the house.



You can check out Channel 4's page for another clip from the documentary. Their own site also has links to other articles and coverage. There are items about the group's repertoire of poignant tunes, the occasional "Hey Ya" or Hendrix cover, as well as past collaborations w/ Latino breakdancers, punks, Cambodian folk artists and a production w/ a gay men's chorus called "Flaming Saddles" (I'm sure people were camping in line to see that one. Ha ha, get it? Camp? It's... ha ha... ha... uuuugh, help me, Rip Taylor). I have no idea if any of those last few projects were, y'know, watchable (yes, forgive me for having serious doubts about "Flaming Saddles"), but at least they sound like AARP meetings from Bill O'Reily's worst nightmares, which is fine by me.

Meanwhile, are you itching to hear tracks from the absurdly rare, alternate Velvet Underground & Nico acetate that was bought at a NY street fair for 75 cents and ended up going for $155,401 on eBay, probably to some douchebag emo-trepreneur? For a short time you can get mp3s of the alternate recordings over at Moistworks. The post's author is coy about his source - the party that was auctioning the acetate made a digital backup but I'm not sure if these mp3s originated from them or the poor-quality Japanese bootleg that surfaced a few years ago. In any case, I regret that I couldn't bid on this one past the $130,000 mark. I've currently got my eye on an ultra-rare 12" version of "Rapper's Delight" that replaces the third verse with a clip of Dick Cavett telling an anecdote about Groucho. They say only 5 people ever heard it but everyone who did went out and bought brown turtlenecks.

Tell Me About the Rabbits + Jodorowsky Mania in '07

The Inland Empire trailer is up on YouTube. Evidently that's Lynch singing. I know he did all the music; no Angelo Badalamenti this time around. Opening night in DC is Jan 13 at the AFI theater.



On another weird movie note, I watched a bootleg of Alejandro Jodorowsky's The Holy Mountain for the first time this weekend. It's hard to still think of Lynch as being all that weird when you've got, say, a guy being violently breastfed by an old man with two baby leopard heads on his chest. ABKCO has confirmed this film and Jodorowsky's El Topo (not sure about Santa Sangre) will almost certainly be released on deluxe dvds (w/ commentary and bonus features) in 2007, although no word yet whether they'll be from Criterion as rumoured. The commentary should be both entertaining and informative, as the extensive religious symbolism in Holy Mountain mostly goes over my head. Here's a promo interview w/ Jodorowsky concerning the films' re-release, and a WFMU blog post from '05 with a bunch of fascinating links concerning Jodorowsky's sadly never-made, visionary-sounding adaptation of Dune, which at various points was to have involved Salvador Dali, H.R. Giger, Moebius, Orson Welles and Pink Floyd. More info on that and the disaster it eventually became for Lynch here, of course.

IN OTHER NEWS (and by "news" I mean "random stuff on the internet about people I like" - the subject of my every post, it seems): Hey, another WFMU blog link! Today they offer an online primer on Chris Morris.

Next We Teach Sufjan Some Suffjering

People, after several failed attempts to come around to her vocal stylings on "The Milk-Eyed Mender," and having now been confronted with a new album full of extremely long songs, I've come to the conclusion that Joanna Newsom simply must be destroyed (Not literally of course. I mean "destroyed" in the "kindly asked to stop" sense, not in the "Get ready to have your Keebler house blown up" sense").

Dead Elf by Joe Cassen

Martian: “What’s soft, and round, and you put it on a stick, and you roast it in the fire?”
Tom Servo: An elf?
Martian: “Oh! And it’s green!”
Tom Servo: Oh! A dead elf!
- from "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians," Mystery Science Theater 3000 episode 321.

Unfortunately I fear we've already allowed this problem to fester for too long and now it's nearly beyond our power to stop it. How many more hipsters and pointy ear fetishists are we going to lose to this whimsical scourge? I mean take a look at what we're up against:

I'm not sure how that last one got in there, but you get the point. I think Mario Savio summed up our current situation best:

"There's a time when the operation of Pitchfork becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart, that you can't take part, you can't even passively take part, and you've got to put your bodies upon the computers and upon the iPods, upon the harps, upon all the harpsichords, and you've got to make it stop! And you've got to indicate to the people who go to her shows, to the people who download her songs, that unless you're free, that affected little woodland creature voice will be prevented from warbling at all!"

HOW CAN YOU HELP?!?

I haven't quite figured that out yet but I have come up with a few preliminary ideas:

- Distribute flyers at your next local Renaissance Faire and/or Tolkien convention warning patrons about the dangers posed by burgeoning "freak folk" scenes; Hope some sort of weird turf war breaks out.
- Blare the new Jay Reatard album loudly and as often as possible.
- Hmmm, I don't know, I guess the harp isn't so bad. Maybe I should just keep listening. I'm also not opposed to long song suites in gener-AAAAAAH! GAH! NO! MUST KEEP FIGHTING!!! SAVE YOURSELVES BEFORE IT'S TOOOO LAAAATTE!!

Robert Altman RIP

Wow, awful news. Inexplicably, the headline on Yahoo's homepage reads "'The Player' director Robert Altman dies at 81" (was it that big a hit?), although apparently someone on CNN has already erroneously ID'd him as "the creator of the series M*A*S*H." C'mon, cable news, hire some film geeks for the anchor chairs already. I also see someone has uploaded his apparently quite odd film w/ Bud Cort, Brewster McCloud , on YouTube, so guess what I'll be squinting at on my computer tonight before it's taken down?

Among his huge filmography (of which I've seen only a portion - about a dozen or so) there'll inevitably be disagreements as to which are the classics, which are just ok and which are disasters, but McCabe & Mrs. Miller, the Long Goodbye, 3 Women, California Split, Short Cuts, Nashville, Gosford Park and Secret Honor are all great and worth anyone's time, to say the very least. And I'm sure Paul Thomas Anderson will continue to completely bite his stylee for years to come.

And if you're looking for another image to remember him by from his later years, here he is pawing at Lindsay Lohan on the set of Prairie Home Companion:



UPDATE: Well, I watched Brewster. Yeah, it's basically dopey and they don't even try for coherence but it's free-spirited in a way you just don't see much in film anymore. It's definitely Altman in full-on eccentric (and high) mode and has plenty of enjoyable scenes. Maybe the timing has a lot to do with it but I can't help but like it.

Lousy Celebrity Makes Record

Hearing exceprts of formerly "underground" rock music in commercials doesn't phase me much anymore, but I'm still trying to wrap my head around this Mitsubishi ad that uses "Blindness" by the Fall. I can see how they thought the song's vicious riff would make a cool soundtrack, but the fact that they kept Mark E. Smith's typically garbled "I was walking down the street..." vocal at the end must mean there's an ad writer at Mitsubishi with one sly, snarky sense of humour.

Anyway, here's the Fall performing a shortened version of that song on Later w/ Jools Holland late last year. I'm guessing they were booked, in part at least, to maintain the band's media visibility for a while longer in honour of John Peel, rather than because of Mark's sparkling stage presence and personal demeanor. Don't be alarmed by the 15 seconds of Robert Plant at the beginning of the clip, he has nothing to do with what follows. Plus you'll get to check out Mark's disproprionately hot current wife on keyboards.



Also, here's their other performance from that episode: a medley of "Pacifying Joint" and the Move's "I Can Hear the Grass Grow." And just for the hell of it, check out their national tv debut - booked and introduced by Peel - from 1983, doing "Smile" and "2X4," complete with dutiful professional dancers (unfortunately the video cuts out early).

Ubsolutely Fuscinating

Lately I've been catching up with some of the Sci-Fi Channel episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000 that I've never seen before, both on dvd and on YouTube, where you can find lots of episodes broken up into ten parts (my willingness to spend all my free time watching lengthy, low-res clips on computer screens knows no bounds). I didn't have Sci-Fi on cable when they aired and I was never in a hurry to catch up with this era, I think mainly because I'm intrinsically opposed to the Pearl character that replaced Forrester and TV's Frank. However, the last few seasons did contain some of the series' most entertainingly ghastly movies and they were often on fire with the quips in the theater as well, so I can just skip the host segments and I'm happy. I ran across this deleted footage from the series' final episode, where the producers surprised Mike & co. with a montage of clips from past films while they were shooting comments for that week's movie, Diabolik. It's a treat for any fan of the show.

Then a Hellbeast ate them.

Reason #4,057 to get a region-free dvd player: Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, Matthew Holness and Richard Aoyade's inspired sci-fi/horror parody which aired on Channel 4 in the UK in 2004 and was just released on dvd there last month. Holness stars as Marenghi, a Stephen King-like horror writer who's just as prolific but considerably shittier (from one love scene: "He whisked off her shoes and panties in one move. Wild - like an enraged shark, his bulky totem beating a seductive rhythm"). Darkplace was Marenghi's sci-fi vanity series - shot in the mid-80's but never before broadcast - starring himself as an allegedly heroic doctor investigating paranormal disturbances at a hospital. The writers throw in all the cheesiest elements of low budget, genre tv: absurd dialogue, awkward dubbing, aggressively ugly film stock, cheap special effects and stilted acting, particularly by Marenghi's sleazy publisher, Dean Learner (Ayoade), who plays the hospital administrator ("He couldn't actually interact with other actors. I've never seen that before... or since"). The show mostly avoids the perils of creating something "intentionally bad" simply by making everything as straight-faced silly as possible, such as this scene from episode one:



Apparently the show recently aired on the Sci-Fi Channel. I don't know if a US dvd release is forthcoming, but predictably it looks like you can find most of it on YouTube. Also, the Dean Learner character recently returned in a new talk show parody called Knowing Me Knowing You with Alan Partridge... er, I mean Man to Man with Dean Lerner, which I haven't seen yet.

Bjork & Steve Coogan - Together at Last

Well... in 1997, anyway.

1000 Stage Dives Per Song

Activate!

I For One Salute Our New Gay Overlords

(Above: The Santorums brace for a new era of dog-fucking)

The Jiggle You Save May Be Your Own

Idolator offers the life-saving tip of the week. For my part, I once saw an out-of-towner get capped in the alley behind Tombstone Cafe in Frostburg, MD for never having heard of Jon Felton & His Snowmobile.

A Quick Round of "Yea or Nay" (while he's away)

(Above: Bureaucracy at work in Playtime).

I was thinking of writing about each of these topics, but figured I'd clear them all out of the way now, as I'm clearly bursting with other ideas for this blog (*cue nervous laughter again*):

Cormac McCarthy’s The Road – YEA. Maybe the best post-apocalyptic scenario I've ever encountered; Bleak but riveting. Also an unusually quick read for a McCarthy book. I finished it in two nights.

Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried – YEA; This book is a rare case where it’s hard to imagine anyone being disappointed.

David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas – NAY; He had me, then he lost me with all the sci-fi genre dabbling. He just comes across as a dilettante, in my opinion.

Playtime, directed by Jacques Tati – YEA. Amazing-looking film and utterly singular in tone, although it definitely won’t appeal to everyone. Imagine if Kubrick, at his iciest, had directed a Buster Keaton movie and you’d be on the right track.

Street Fight – YEA; Tough doc about the 2002 mayor’s race in Newark, NJ. A great glimpse at how dirty politics can get on the local level. The incumbent’s staff pretty much openly harasses the challenger, his people and the filmmaker in plain sight. Makes the election on The Wire look like a pillow fight.

I’m Alan Partridge series 1 – YEA, and it’s finally on dvd here in America. Steve Coogan as one of the funniest characters in recent times – an obnoxious, tacky, talentless ex-chat show host, now living in a Travelodge in Norwich and working as a very-early morning dj on a show primarily heard by farmers. Alan’s alienating behavior was clearly a big influence on The Office. Even better if you’ve seen the previous Partridge series, Knowing Me Knowing You. Need convincing? Here's a clip of Alan locked in a heady debate about intensive farming with Chris Morris.

Anti-stem cell research ad in response to Michael J. Fox – Clearly NAY, and while everyone in it is a complete sphincter, I have to single out the Passion of the Christ guy, Jim Caveziel (sic), who not only bookends this ad sitting in front of a statue of Jesus but spouts some Latin or something at the beginning just to be really irritating. Did anyone not see this guy’s apparent delusion coming? News flash, Caziel (sic): John Turturro played Jesus too, and you don't see him acting like an idiot. Maybe you should talk to, say, Andrew “Dice” Clay about the perils of confusing your character with reality. I bet Dice knows more Latin too; and since I’m linking to a YouTube clip:

All YouTube comments ever, especially for popular clips – NAY; Truly the dregs of humanity on display.

I know something is happening but I don't know what it is

If you're a Bob Dylan fan but thought the only remotely gay thing about him was that eye makeup he wore during the Rolling Thunder tour, here's an interpretation of one of his most ubiquitious songs that may change your mind:



Looks like that line about "the jugglers and the clowns" put some very twisted ideas in someone's head. Sadly, their even peppier performance of Leonard Cohen’s “Famous Blue Raincoat” during the commercial break apparently wasn't recorded.

Hannity's foolproof plan to secure Congress

He forgot to say "the election has been moved to Wednesday" in Spanish.

Sick's a sort of metaphor for the way these people lead their lives.

Posted for no real reason, other than that Brass Eye should be seen by everyone on the planet but still has never been released in America. Pity how little has changed in Cowsick since '97:

Disappointed OLDBOY fan wanders into wrong film, fights off gang of ushers with a hammer.

(Above: Guess which of these three characters is the most entertaining in Old Joy).

In a recent post on the Onion A.V. Club blog, Scott Tobias wrote, concerning Andrew Bujalski’s Mutual Appreciation and Kelly Reichardt’s Old Joy: “If you care at all about American independent films, you’re required to see these movies.” Well, here’s a slightly less hyperbolic rejoinder: if you’re reading this post you’re required to treat that statement with extreme skepticism. I haven’t seen Mutual Appreciation, as both the praise and derision I’ve read concerning Bujalski’s two films make them sound like something I’d prefer not to endure, but I did see Old Joy and while it mostly accomplishes its very modest goals, they amount to so little that asking you to spend $9.50 watching Portland hippies on an uneventful camping trip is a tough proposition, even if your right to call yourself an independent film fan is apparently at stake(?).

First, I must admit that despite living in the DC area for nearly two years this was the first film I’ve seen at the swank-ish AFI Silver Theater in Silver Spring. I was one of six people in the theater for a 5:15 showing, which made for a slightly awkward introduction by the guy who encouraged us to spread word-of-mouth for the film (yeah, sorry). The movie observes two longtime friends, Mark (Daniel London) and Kurt (Will Oldham), who reunite at Kurt’s suggestion after some time apart to check out a hot spring in the Oregon woods. While Kurt is an unemployed, perpetual flake who’s taken to wandering the streets at night, Mark and his very pregnant wife – who’s understandably wary of Kurt -both have unspecified careers which apparently monopolize most of their time. I should note the movie is acutely observed. Oldham is convincing and not overbearingly quirky as the sort of annoying, faux-esoteric bullshitter seemingly stuck in an unending post-grad phase - but hey, says he’s “in a really good place right now” - whom one should take great pains to avoid in life. Reichardt portrays the trip exactly as it would likely occur, meaning there’s no showy confrontations over long-buried tension; no whiny, vapid “soul-searching” and no torturous, allegedly witty patter of the sort that plagues films about professionally aimless 20/30-somthings. For the most part, they simply drive up, listen to Air America (thank God not Randi Rhodes) in the car, get lost, find the place, hang out in the woods, in the meantime there are a couple of telling, subtle moments (literally, there’s maybe a couple), and when it’s over they’ll likely resume their prospective courses.

Old Joy uncannily has the feel of a glacially paced contemporary Asian art film where you basically have to fill in story and meaning in your head based on the largely subtextual info on screen. Can we stop pretending this is some kind of inherently intellectual style of filmmaking? Often in my experience these films end up as an emptily pretentious dawdle whose main worth is as a cudgel for smug would-be cineastes to use against the rubes who surely “should stick to Adam Sandler movies” if they “don’t get it,” as if detractors can only be entrenched in one possible camp. But I digress. Admittedly the Pacific Northwest is one of the most fitting spots in the country to transplant this meditative style, but the constant nature shots aren’t exactly of Terrence Mallick-like grandeur (the film apparently wasn’t shot on video but manages to look like it). As for the characters themselves, Mark seems vaguely worried about Kurt’s deteriorating mental and professional state, but otherwise we know too little about him to get a read on him and he makes disappointingly little impression other than as a guy killing time on a meandering weekend. Manohla Dargis of the New York Times writes that during the centerpiece scene at the hot spring where Kurt describes an anxious dream that contains the film’s summative line – “sorrow’s just a worn-out joy,” Reichardt “finds perfect cinematic expression in a stunningly moving close-up of Mark’s open, surprised and now-joyful face.” I found the whole thing a bit more inscrutable; if he’s supposed to be experiencing some sort of genuinely euphoric moment (has this ever happened to you when you’ve heard people ramble about their stupid dreams?) rather than relaxing in a toasted haze it doesn’t come across and feels a bit unlikely and unearned, even if that line does cut to the quick of the characters’ current relationship. I do like the film more in retrospect, but its thin, 76-minute story simply doesn’t add up to much, and as one commenter on the AV Club blog noted, to call it “one of the finest American films of the year,” as the Times review does, is to raise expectations that likely won’t be rewarded - although then again, this has seemed like a fairly unremarkable year so maybe they will.

So yeah, this post has been a long, rambling way of advising, “wait for the dvd.” But if you need an immediate Oldham fix you can always check out this cameo appearance from "Wonder Showzen," where he indulges in some down-home hijinx with Zach Galifinakis and David Cross... and no, Cross' familiar attire in this segment is surely no accident.

UPDATE: Remember how I said I liked the film better in retrospect? Well, I find myself liking it even more now. I still think the muddy characterization is a huge flaw and the overall hippieness of it a tad irksome but I appreciate more the way the film eschews on-screen obnoxiousness that you can find in a zillion other sources for a calmer, more assured approach. Hey, I'm entitled to modify my opinion right? That's one of the perks of being an amateur nobody - that and not being deluged with pesky praise, professional respect and scads of promo materials. Who needs all that anyway?!? *cue desperate laughter*

Hey NBC, how about a complementary Jason Lee moustache comb for the trouble?

Last week's premiere of 30 Rock, Tina Fey's new sitcom apparently based on the backstage goings-on at Mad TV, was funny enough that I'll be watching again this week. Unlike that Aaron Sorkin thing with the same basic premise that I haven't seen, this show does not appear to treat sketch comedy with the same we're-walking-here gravitas of national politics. No, thankfully here you've got my hero (even though he really seems like a jerk) Alec Baldwin effortlessly busting Tina's balls, and Tracy Morgan giving bizarre line readings about the government putting AIDS in chicken nuggets. Try it (Wed @ 8), you'll like it.

I was a little hesitant to post a positive note about this show as I don't want to look like I'm doing viral marketing for NBC or am trying to land one of those "reputable influencer" gigs that my fellow blogger litelysalted was offered. Not because I'm against it, but because I'm already doing viral marketing for The CW, that new WB/UPN merger channel. Take a look at this awesome mid-season replacement show I'll be promoting across the interweb in a few months:

- Llama; Capitalizing on the House and Shark trend of shows about unorthodox, charismatic, high-powered professionals with pithy names, Bob Hoskins stars as the latest incarnation of His Holiness, the Dalai Llama (spelling changed to the animal name for "fierceness"), and he's shaking things up along the path to enlightenment. A firm believer that "the character-building of suffering" should be a Fifth Noble Truth, Llama isn't afraid to crush some toes to bring Buddhism into the 21st century and save Tibet from shadowy Chinese agents. Viewers will be riveted by Llama's unusual methods, as he opens a high-tech Buddhist hospital with some seriously dramatic karma in Los Angeles; berates visibly shaken guest star Richard Gere; and dropkicks a depressed monk square in the chest to awaken him from a "nap of ignorance" (production of the series was suspended for several months while Hoskins recovered from this stunt).

This show will also be available via video podcast or sent to anyone who follows the Noble Eightfold Path on their cellphone.

(Above: Dharma and Bob - Hoskins running shit as Llama).

Extra! Extra! Mittens the Cat Stumbles Onto Bizarre, Symbol-laden, Psychological Netherworld!

In a way, blogs are kind of like those toy presses that let kids print out a "family newspaper" about the latest goings on in their overly precious households. So basically instead of writing cutesy headlines like "Mayer Family Adopts New Puppy" for the amusement of 4 people, adults like me are writing little, made-up, Onion-like news stories best described as "Man Enjoys 'The Wire' Immensely" or "Loud Target Customers Disrupt Sock Purchase," or "Self-diddling Ends in Tears Again" (wait, pretend you didn't read that last one), for the amusement of... 4 people. Same principle.

So with that in mind, here's a link to a news story that will affect Daddy's future movie-going plans: David Lynch will be distributing his new movie INLAND EMPIRE himself in the US (an unusual move for a name director, to say the least), and it should be in theaters by the end of 2006 in its full, three-hour version.

(Above: Dancing prostitutes + digital video x confusing narrative = Oscar)

Also, for those interested in such things, here's a YouTube link to a trailer for the upcoming Quentin Tarantino/Robert Rodriguez "double feature," Grind House, featuring a cast straight off of the USA network @ 3 A.M.

I'll continue to keep you updated on further developing stories, such as the nuclear situation in North Korea and dangerously rising hermitude levels in my apartment. Courage!

Best use of Dropkick Murphys songs in a police thriller?

(Above: "Woah, so did Faye Dunaway really throw a cup

of piss in Polanski's face?")

With his new, really-good-but-not-quite-great movie The Departed, Martin Scorsese – you may remember him as the director of Michael Jackson’s “Bad” video - is “back”… sort of. While I liked The Aviator (although not so much that I’ve felt the need to sit through it again), it was an oddball epic about OCD that struggled to fashion a clear cinematic narrative out of Howard Hughes’ life. Gangs of New York was a mess that seemed to have escaped from Scorsese’s grasp at some point, or perhaps it was simply afflicted with Harvey Weinstein’s bad mojo. As for Bringing Out the Dead, the less said the better (ok, one positive – the title always reminds me of one of the early scenes in Monty Python & The Holy Grail). None of these films lacked Scorsese’s typical kinetic energy – at 64 his grittiest films are still vividly hyperactive, although he’s proven he can adapt to other styles as well (to quote Christopher Moltisanti: “Kundun – I liked it!”). Now however, comes a leaner, stripped-down, more impersonal tale that benefits from finding Marty (I call him Marty. We hang out on weekends watching old Howard Hawks movies) fully in his comfort zone – even if the film is knowingly a tad on the illogical side.

First, if you’re like me and thought the trailer made this film look like a disappointingly rote police thriller, you may also agree with me and find that Marty (“Hey buddy, it’s Chris. Have they flown in that rare Ball of Fire print from France yet?”) and screenwriter William Monahan utilize a full bag of tricks – including clever use of cell phones as a plot device – to revitalize the genre, although bear in mind I haven’t seen Infernal Affairs (a stupid title for a movie, but then again so is My Bloody Valentine for a band), the Asian film on which this one is based. The plot, in brief: undercover cop (Leo) infiltrates mob, while mob boss (Jack) grooms a rat (Matt) in the police dept. Both rats spend much of the film trying to find out each other’s identity, and by fantastic (to put it mildly) coincidence they both become involved with the same police shrink, who has the same role most women have in cop movies: a shitty one (unless they’re made to be improbably ass-kicking). I don’t quite know what it is Scorsese sees in Leonard(o) DiCaprio that he keeps casting him in such unlikely lead roles, but get ready for their next apparent collab, with Leo playing – I shit you not – Teddy Roosevelt (I'd sooner believe him as Teddy Pendergrass)! I give Leonard credit though for challenging himself with each film and possibly causing permanent damage to his brow with all that furrowing. He’s working hard again here; playing a character with lots of unconvincing and underdeveloped emotional baggage that doesn’t quite come across. I thought a scene where he unloads during his first visit to the shrink fell particularly flat. We’re never quite as invested in young Leonard coming out alright so much as we are in seeing Matt Damon’s slimy character get his. Damon is put to his most effective use I’ve seen to date (other than having him wander around the desert for 90 minutes, of course), and he should consider playing more weasely roles, as he's talented but too capable of being terminally vanilla elsewhere.

As for Jack, he gives a restrained, almost dour performance as an introverted nebbish… in The King of Marvin Gardens, 34 years ago. Here, he’s practically in full-on Joker mode. Initially, he balances the charisma level just about right, as he has to project a suitable aura of power in his role as boss/father figure to Damon. Plus, it'll always be entertaining watching him make lewd remarks to waitresses. By the film’s later stages, however, his performance is practically in another universe. We see him MAKING RAT FACES while ruminating over the rat in his gang and licking his hand after squashing a bug. Another scene finds him cavorting with two hot bimbos while wearing a leopard-print robe (guess whose idea that was) and throwing coke around like a ninja tossing a smoke bomb, which would be okay if the film took place in Newbridge, but it just seems silly here. No, the real scene-stealing actor in The Departed is Alec Baldwin, who, along with Mark Wahlberg as a belligerent fellow cop, dishes out all of the film’s best, shamelessly entertaining insult humor. In fact, Baldwin is such a great presence now as a doughy supporting actor that if William Hurt can be nominated for an Oscar for his slim but entertaining turn in A History of Violence then a similar nod for Baldwin wouldn't be undeserved.

Which brings us to the Oscar speculation that inevitably accompanies any Scorsese release. While his last two films overtly felt like Miramax-driven campaigns for a gold statue, this smaller, less ambitious but more entertaining and effective film might ironically represent Scorsese’s best shot at the award yet, particularly since competition this year is so paltry. After all, they can’t give it to Eastwood again… can they? Then again, maybe Brett Ratner is the new Golden Child. Whatever the case, every filmmaker knows that one’s career is not complete without a Best Director Oscar… which is why the films of Orson Welles, Alfred Hitchcock and Stanley Kubrick are now hopelessly lost to obscurity while this year’s trophy is being replaced with a bust of Ron Howard that shoots fireworks. Now... tell me who’s Bad.