My continual self-education and subsequent transformation into some sort of elitist film buff has been a fun one indeed. There's a strange sort of pride in knowing that your tastes are refined and cultured, whereas the average moviegoer is content with watching a monkey explode every few seconds while popping off a clever one-liner written by a starving writer who has to donate sperm just to stave off malnutrition. My point is, I guess, is that I've reached a point where I think it's safe to apply some sort of arrogant, self-proclaimed title or "movie buff" or "expert," or something of the sort.
I despise titles and labels, so I'm not sure why I'm labeling myself. But the purpose of this entry is not to self-aggrandize my supposed cinematic mastery, far from it. Being that this is a personal blog, this entry is more supposed to acknowledge that my love for the silver screen far exceeds my love for other flimflammeries, such as human courting practices and the like. Perhaps that makes me gay. To that, I say a simple "fuck you!"
It's been a strange process of experimentation, but I've recently discovered nothing can quite affect my mood like a poignant and well-made film. But I've had to lament the overabundance and worshipping of garbage over true artistic genius. If you got a crowd of ten people, I'm sure they'd all prefer the atrocious Transformers film over a wildly experimental, but still totally awesome film Rescue Dawn. But it's not so much the movie's fault, but society itself. We live in a society where mediocrity is celebrated and experimentation is too shocking, which is pretty bad.
At this point, I sound like an extremely pretentious loon who's only futilely acting like he knows what the blithering hell he's talking about. Yeah, I suppose I do, but my points are still valid. I was just probably feeling hoity-toity when I wrote this. I thought this was supposed to be an adulation of the cinematic arts, but apparently my misanthropy won't even temper for five minutes.
PS. If you're reading this, that means you're not watching Inglourious Basterds. What the hell is wrong with you?
Monday, August 24, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
The Final Countdown
In about one month's time, maybe a little more, I will be living the dorm life in Santa Barbara, far from the confines of parental control and police who give a damn. It is there that I will endeavor to change myself to be a more outgoing person, while retaining the qualities that make me special, namely my intense passion for various flimflammeries like film and literature. This summer has been one long self-improvement experiment, and I have definitely achieved some, ahem, ripped results.
The past few weeks have been one continuous dread-fest after another. I've been frightened that I'll despise it down there (still a possibility) and even more afraid that I'll be squandering the money that's being used to pay for my education. But I've been able to slowly shrug it off, supplanting it with a mixture of cautious optimism and restrained excitement. The idea of going to one of the top research universities in the country has stirred the thirsty intellectual inside me, and the notion of the occasional party, willing lady, and use of substances (responsibly, of course!) has awakened the repressed fun-loving beast that has spent the last 17 years playing video games.
My departure is imminent, but I'm not worried about it any more. Of course, given my track record, that could change in a matter of weeks, but I look to the week of September 14th with a degree of exciting nervousness. In the words of Niko Bellic, "Perhaps here, things will be different."
PS. You know that travelogue I say I'll write one day? Screw it.
The past few weeks have been one continuous dread-fest after another. I've been frightened that I'll despise it down there (still a possibility) and even more afraid that I'll be squandering the money that's being used to pay for my education. But I've been able to slowly shrug it off, supplanting it with a mixture of cautious optimism and restrained excitement. The idea of going to one of the top research universities in the country has stirred the thirsty intellectual inside me, and the notion of the occasional party, willing lady, and use of substances (responsibly, of course!) has awakened the repressed fun-loving beast that has spent the last 17 years playing video games.
My departure is imminent, but I'm not worried about it any more. Of course, given my track record, that could change in a matter of weeks, but I look to the week of September 14th with a degree of exciting nervousness. In the words of Niko Bellic, "Perhaps here, things will be different."
PS. You know that travelogue I say I'll write one day? Screw it.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Brief justifications Part II
Oldboy: This was probably one of the most surreal and sickening movies I've ever seen this side of David Lynch. Featuring compelling performances from Korean actors I've never heard of, director Park Chan-Wook's most popular film is full of style, action, and bizarre storytelling. This movie's quite a trip, but it pulls it off extremely well. Plus, the ending is all kinds of fucked up.
Raging Bull: Some argue that Taxi Driver is Scorsese's best work. I certainly don't disagree that that was several kinds of amazing, but Raging Bull is the textbook definition of character study done well. And it's Robert De Niro in the title role, how can you lose? Shot in crisp black and white, perhaps to emphasize the brutality of boxing, Raging Bull is the raw, unadulterated, all-grown-up version of Rocky. No montages here, just brutal beatdowns and the inner conflict of a horrible yet sympathetic human being.
WALL-E: There is no movie sweeter than WALL-E. I challenge you to find one. You couldn't? I figured as much! Drawing on the charms of the silent film, Andrew Stanton's love story between two adorable robots, one a curious, lonely, and caring trash compactor unit and the other a slick, badass, bounty-hunting vegetation evaluator, is funny, heartfelt, and just generally awesome. There's some half-baked subtext in there too, but I was too busy watching the robots dance in space to pay attention to it. Also, Jeff Garlin as a fat space captain. How fitting.
The Shawshank Redemption: This movie is a little heavy-handed in its message, but you can overlook that for the amazing performances from Morgan Freeman, Tim Robbins, and that bastard Bob Gunton. Even though it's a bit unrealistic, the ending will have you singing with the birds for days, which is impressive for a prison film. That Stephen King whore Frank Darabont sure knows how to make a good movie.
Fargo: This is easily one of the funniest movies I've ever seen. The Coens' dark and dry masterpiece hits all the right notes with a hilarious cast. The film is kind of a study of Minnesotan culture as well with outrageous accents all over the place (The prostitute interrogation scene had me doubled over). Like most Coens' films, it's also ridiculously violent, which goes perfectly with the wry script.
PS. Who the fuck still honestly reads this? I just spent two rambly entries shamelessly promoting myself for no adequate reason. You'd think you people would have better things to do than indulge my narcissistic whims. But the fact that you do means I love you.
Raging Bull: Some argue that Taxi Driver is Scorsese's best work. I certainly don't disagree that that was several kinds of amazing, but Raging Bull is the textbook definition of character study done well. And it's Robert De Niro in the title role, how can you lose? Shot in crisp black and white, perhaps to emphasize the brutality of boxing, Raging Bull is the raw, unadulterated, all-grown-up version of Rocky. No montages here, just brutal beatdowns and the inner conflict of a horrible yet sympathetic human being.
WALL-E: There is no movie sweeter than WALL-E. I challenge you to find one. You couldn't? I figured as much! Drawing on the charms of the silent film, Andrew Stanton's love story between two adorable robots, one a curious, lonely, and caring trash compactor unit and the other a slick, badass, bounty-hunting vegetation evaluator, is funny, heartfelt, and just generally awesome. There's some half-baked subtext in there too, but I was too busy watching the robots dance in space to pay attention to it. Also, Jeff Garlin as a fat space captain. How fitting.
The Shawshank Redemption: This movie is a little heavy-handed in its message, but you can overlook that for the amazing performances from Morgan Freeman, Tim Robbins, and that bastard Bob Gunton. Even though it's a bit unrealistic, the ending will have you singing with the birds for days, which is impressive for a prison film. That Stephen King whore Frank Darabont sure knows how to make a good movie.
Fargo: This is easily one of the funniest movies I've ever seen. The Coens' dark and dry masterpiece hits all the right notes with a hilarious cast. The film is kind of a study of Minnesotan culture as well with outrageous accents all over the place (The prostitute interrogation scene had me doubled over). Like most Coens' films, it's also ridiculously violent, which goes perfectly with the wry script.
PS. Who the fuck still honestly reads this? I just spent two rambly entries shamelessly promoting myself for no adequate reason. You'd think you people would have better things to do than indulge my narcissistic whims. But the fact that you do means I love you.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Brief jusifications Part 1
Being that my snarky reserves are currently being tapped for the upcoming travelogue, as well as yet another script I'm working on, I feel that utilizing my funny bone for a vanilla blog entry would be squandering my talents. So instead I'm going to use it to plug my top ten movies of all time, and hopefully compel readers to watch them, if only so I can say "Haha, if you had listened to me sooner, you would've embraced this cinematic nirvana much earlier, you poof!" So without further adieu, here we go:
Blade Runner: I feel as though this cannot be said enough: Blade Runner is one of the most relevant movies ever made, which is even more impressive considering it was made over 25 years ago. Full of heavy thematic material, such as what it means to be human, memories, death and revenge, director Ridley Scott's opus also contains pertinent questions for the 21st century. What happens when we create sentient beings capable of emotion? Are they truly human? Are they lesser beings? The marvel of the film is that it poses all these philosophical ponderings without weighing down the rest of the film. It's as perfect as perfect gets.
The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly: Sergio Leone is a master of style if nothing else. But the final installment in the Man with No Name trilogy is easily the greatest, with interesting characters, a mesmerizing score from master Ennio Morricone, and wicked gunfights. All of this is wrapped up in Leone's trademark style; the panoramic shots of the vast and barren desert, the extreme close-ups in the duels, and a simultaneous fast and slow pace. There's no questions for the ages here; it's three-way hunt for treasure with cowboys and guns. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Apocalypse Now: Before Francis Ford Coppola went into a seemingly perpetual slump in his career (pretty much anything after the 70s), he directed what's considered one of the finest war films ever. Easily dwarfing the overrated Full Metal Jacket and Platoon, Apocalypse Now succeeds due to Coppola's spotless direction and brilliant thematic material. Time after time, war has been portrayed as ugly and horrid, but this film actually manages to make it seem fresh by juxtaposing it alongside one man's descent into madness as he hunts down someone even crazier. Combine it with Martin Sheen and Marlon Brando's mindblowing performances and you have a recipe for a movie that's probably the best of its decade.
The Dark Knight: Now this is one that everyone's probably already seen. Christopher Nolan's gritty reinvention of the Caped Crusader was excellent in Batman Begins, but the inner conflict, both in Bruce Wayne's mind and in the city of Gotham doesn't truly kick in until the Joker shows up. Nolan's take on the dichotomy of the two characters, as well as Harvey Dent's insane quest makes this not just an oustanding summer movie, but an intriguing character study of the Dark Knight and his villains. Plus, Heath Ledger as the Joker, come on now.
Trainspotting: One of Danny Boyle's earliest works is also his greatest and most energetic. Establishing himself as a premiere of style, Trainspotting transcends the label of "drug movie" and becomes something else entirely. With a frenetic pace and raw depictions of the drug scene in Edinburgh, combined with some very sympathetic characters, Boyle's work is special in more ways than one. Though it's a very serious film at heart, it's also filled with hilarious dialogue and sequences that truly make it special.
PS. Part 2 coming tomorrow. Or the next day. Or next month. Or something.
Blade Runner: I feel as though this cannot be said enough: Blade Runner is one of the most relevant movies ever made, which is even more impressive considering it was made over 25 years ago. Full of heavy thematic material, such as what it means to be human, memories, death and revenge, director Ridley Scott's opus also contains pertinent questions for the 21st century. What happens when we create sentient beings capable of emotion? Are they truly human? Are they lesser beings? The marvel of the film is that it poses all these philosophical ponderings without weighing down the rest of the film. It's as perfect as perfect gets.
The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly: Sergio Leone is a master of style if nothing else. But the final installment in the Man with No Name trilogy is easily the greatest, with interesting characters, a mesmerizing score from master Ennio Morricone, and wicked gunfights. All of this is wrapped up in Leone's trademark style; the panoramic shots of the vast and barren desert, the extreme close-ups in the duels, and a simultaneous fast and slow pace. There's no questions for the ages here; it's three-way hunt for treasure with cowboys and guns. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Apocalypse Now: Before Francis Ford Coppola went into a seemingly perpetual slump in his career (pretty much anything after the 70s), he directed what's considered one of the finest war films ever. Easily dwarfing the overrated Full Metal Jacket and Platoon, Apocalypse Now succeeds due to Coppola's spotless direction and brilliant thematic material. Time after time, war has been portrayed as ugly and horrid, but this film actually manages to make it seem fresh by juxtaposing it alongside one man's descent into madness as he hunts down someone even crazier. Combine it with Martin Sheen and Marlon Brando's mindblowing performances and you have a recipe for a movie that's probably the best of its decade.
The Dark Knight: Now this is one that everyone's probably already seen. Christopher Nolan's gritty reinvention of the Caped Crusader was excellent in Batman Begins, but the inner conflict, both in Bruce Wayne's mind and in the city of Gotham doesn't truly kick in until the Joker shows up. Nolan's take on the dichotomy of the two characters, as well as Harvey Dent's insane quest makes this not just an oustanding summer movie, but an intriguing character study of the Dark Knight and his villains. Plus, Heath Ledger as the Joker, come on now.
Trainspotting: One of Danny Boyle's earliest works is also his greatest and most energetic. Establishing himself as a premiere of style, Trainspotting transcends the label of "drug movie" and becomes something else entirely. With a frenetic pace and raw depictions of the drug scene in Edinburgh, combined with some very sympathetic characters, Boyle's work is special in more ways than one. Though it's a very serious film at heart, it's also filled with hilarious dialogue and sequences that truly make it special.
PS. Part 2 coming tomorrow. Or the next day. Or next month. Or something.
Monday, July 13, 2009
A few thoughts
I've forced myself to stay sober for at least a month following my latest enlightenment, triple-fade episode in mid-June. I like to think I kicked that challenge straight in the face, abstaining from all forms of drugs, alcohol, and tobacco. It wasn't exactly difficult, but I've realized that in my journey, if you could call it that, that I miss not only the pleasures that it afforded me, but the risk and danger that came with it. For some strange reason, I thrive on both sides of the coin.
But now I've broken my sobriety and, as we speak, am off in other realms, feeling incredibly good about it. I want to convey something, however. I'm not a druggie. I will never let drugs grab ahold of me. The dangerous territory, the addictive amphetamines and opioids are as far as we go. And those are strictly, strictly limited to once in a blue moon. This is a dangerous game I'm playing, and I pride myself on being extremely knowledgeable on all the rules and being aware, at all times, of the risks and rewards involved.
My usage is simply another activity. It's not habit, it's not a tic; I simply don't need it. But what it does is offer me something to do. It's similar to the projects I'm currently working on. To me, it's no different than writing scripts, working on the movie, reading experimental literature, and watching foreign films. Everything I do, I do to gain experience, to make myself more knowledgeable on a certain subject, because that's who I am, someone who thirsts for the satisfaction to his curiosity. In the past, I've taken stuff for the wrong reasons, to alleviate depression, to escape from my problems, but I've wisened up. Everything I do is an experiment and an experience. I want to try new things, and I want to learn. As a teenager in the prime of life, I think I'm certainly entitled to explore what the world has to offer me.
This might sound like some ridiculous rationalization by a drug addict, but I assure you, it isn't. I'm not addicted to anything. Not people, not drugs, not squandering my money in Thai brothels. It's all part of the plan. The plan to have as good a time as possible before I'm off in the land of even better times.
PS. Love you all. Travelogue from the New York trip will be coming up shortly.
But now I've broken my sobriety and, as we speak, am off in other realms, feeling incredibly good about it. I want to convey something, however. I'm not a druggie. I will never let drugs grab ahold of me. The dangerous territory, the addictive amphetamines and opioids are as far as we go. And those are strictly, strictly limited to once in a blue moon. This is a dangerous game I'm playing, and I pride myself on being extremely knowledgeable on all the rules and being aware, at all times, of the risks and rewards involved.
My usage is simply another activity. It's not habit, it's not a tic; I simply don't need it. But what it does is offer me something to do. It's similar to the projects I'm currently working on. To me, it's no different than writing scripts, working on the movie, reading experimental literature, and watching foreign films. Everything I do, I do to gain experience, to make myself more knowledgeable on a certain subject, because that's who I am, someone who thirsts for the satisfaction to his curiosity. In the past, I've taken stuff for the wrong reasons, to alleviate depression, to escape from my problems, but I've wisened up. Everything I do is an experiment and an experience. I want to try new things, and I want to learn. As a teenager in the prime of life, I think I'm certainly entitled to explore what the world has to offer me.
This might sound like some ridiculous rationalization by a drug addict, but I assure you, it isn't. I'm not addicted to anything. Not people, not drugs, not squandering my money in Thai brothels. It's all part of the plan. The plan to have as good a time as possible before I'm off in the land of even better times.
PS. Love you all. Travelogue from the New York trip will be coming up shortly.
Monday, July 6, 2009
A short one
I've returned from the Big Apple, a place I felt more at home than any where else. It's the equivalent of a UC school - gigantic, anonymous, full of its own culture, and capable of devouring your soul if you so much as let your guard down for a few minutes. I got to experience the local culture (the food there is absolutely sublime), and check out their movie scene - all great fun.
However, that being said, some serious bullshit that I didn't need happened on the trip. Shit like parents and grandparents coming along and killing the buzz every time I wanted to break off on my own. Shit like stupid confrontations and arguments that pretty much murdered all the enjoyment. Shit like going to an amazing city and not experiencing the nitty-gritty and instead going to the tourist traps that aren't even exciting (I didn't even get to go inside the Statue of Liberty, just got to stand in her shadow). My little movie theater excursions were microcosms of experiencing what the city had to offer. Aimlessly meandering Times Square with crowds so thick that you need a weed whacker just to move five feet is not my idea of a good time. It's cool to look at for about 30 seconds, but kind of meaningless when you could be experiencing so much more.
Lastly, shit happened. Killed my buzz, as if it weren't dead already after being chewed out mercilessly for two hours. But all in all, a good trip. The detailed travelogue will be coming soon.
PS. Maaaaaan, that's messed up.
However, that being said, some serious bullshit that I didn't need happened on the trip. Shit like parents and grandparents coming along and killing the buzz every time I wanted to break off on my own. Shit like stupid confrontations and arguments that pretty much murdered all the enjoyment. Shit like going to an amazing city and not experiencing the nitty-gritty and instead going to the tourist traps that aren't even exciting (I didn't even get to go inside the Statue of Liberty, just got to stand in her shadow). My little movie theater excursions were microcosms of experiencing what the city had to offer. Aimlessly meandering Times Square with crowds so thick that you need a weed whacker just to move five feet is not my idea of a good time. It's cool to look at for about 30 seconds, but kind of meaningless when you could be experiencing so much more.
Lastly, shit happened. Killed my buzz, as if it weren't dead already after being chewed out mercilessly for two hours. But all in all, a good trip. The detailed travelogue will be coming soon.
PS. Maaaaaan, that's messed up.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Far Cry
Looking back on that incredibly mopey and indulgent blog entry makes me realize what a whiny bastard I've been, a mindset that can only manifest itself if I'm feeling extremely good about myself, which I currently am. My Friday was mind-blowing in so many ways that perhaps it was the catalyst I needed to turn my shit completely around. Who can argue with a Counter burger, watching the soon-to-be-classic Moon, and kicking it with the gents for the night? The depressive attitude I had lingered on afterwards, but once this week started, I was just on top of everything.
For God's sake, I've started to go running in the early morning (10 AM is still early in my book, heh), tanning, watching Curb Your Enthusiasm and attempting to give myself a manicure (failed so, so miserably). Through just sheer force of will, I've compelled myself to change and try new things, things that have ultimately paid off in making me happy, or whatever. The house doesn't feel like a prison any more, but more like my personal playhouse. It's a nice feeling to know that everything you're doing is ultimately contributing to the benefit of your mental and physical health.
I might have broken a sobriety oath on graduation night, but I figure that a one-time exception on my graduation night is hardly a blight on my existence. I definitely don't mind doing that shit once in a while, but I am absolutely not centering my life around it. I've come to realize I can't stand it when that's the only thing to do when I'm with people. It's pointless, excessive, and often very, very boring. I'm all for hedonism, but a line's got to be drawn somewhere. I am excising the negative.
Prospects are looking bright. No jobs or whatever, but my scripts have been read by people who can actually do something for me, which I was extremely surprised and grateful for (Thanks be to Hollie). Pretty girl from Santa Barbara is talking to me, which is also great practice for the real deal, and I'm gearing up for the environment that will greet me when I go down there in July for orientation. I'm no longer petrified; I'm looking forward to it immensely. Like Poison once said, it will be "nothin' but a good time."
Bear in mind, I'm not one of those fucking hysterically positive, butter-side-up, types. The rain's just stopped. Maybe it'll be back. You never know with Bay Area weather. But at the moment, there's not much that's causing me to cut myself and writing shitty poetry with my own blood. Things are looking up for this old codger.
PS. If that agent can get my script to the right places, I will officially begin to wear a cross and sing praises of Allah. Seriously.
For God's sake, I've started to go running in the early morning (10 AM is still early in my book, heh), tanning, watching Curb Your Enthusiasm and attempting to give myself a manicure (failed so, so miserably). Through just sheer force of will, I've compelled myself to change and try new things, things that have ultimately paid off in making me happy, or whatever. The house doesn't feel like a prison any more, but more like my personal playhouse. It's a nice feeling to know that everything you're doing is ultimately contributing to the benefit of your mental and physical health.
I might have broken a sobriety oath on graduation night, but I figure that a one-time exception on my graduation night is hardly a blight on my existence. I definitely don't mind doing that shit once in a while, but I am absolutely not centering my life around it. I've come to realize I can't stand it when that's the only thing to do when I'm with people. It's pointless, excessive, and often very, very boring. I'm all for hedonism, but a line's got to be drawn somewhere. I am excising the negative.
Prospects are looking bright. No jobs or whatever, but my scripts have been read by people who can actually do something for me, which I was extremely surprised and grateful for (Thanks be to Hollie). Pretty girl from Santa Barbara is talking to me, which is also great practice for the real deal, and I'm gearing up for the environment that will greet me when I go down there in July for orientation. I'm no longer petrified; I'm looking forward to it immensely. Like Poison once said, it will be "nothin' but a good time."
Bear in mind, I'm not one of those fucking hysterically positive, butter-side-up, types. The rain's just stopped. Maybe it'll be back. You never know with Bay Area weather. But at the moment, there's not much that's causing me to cut myself and writing shitty poetry with my own blood. Things are looking up for this old codger.
PS. If that agent can get my script to the right places, I will officially begin to wear a cross and sing praises of Allah. Seriously.
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