Kassell's take on Lolita is an extremely unnerving and genuinely creepy film, starring Kevin Bacon as the titular woodsman, a pedophile recently released on parole. Bacon, one of the most adaptable actors in the business (for God's sake, the man went from A Few Good Men to Hollow Man) and his supremely muted performance speaks more to the audience than the longest dialogue. A supporting cast consisting of Benjamin Bratt, Mos Def, and Kyra Sedgwick are mostly unremarkable, mostly because Bacon dominates the role so thoroughly. This movie will rattle some cages, but it's ultimately worth it.
PS. Kevin Bacon, shockingly, has never received an Oscar nod. There is no justice left in this world.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Infernal Affairs - Andrew Lau and Alan Mak, 2002.
Martin Scorsese's The Departed was a remake of this film, made with the typical frenetic Scorsese energy we come to expect from the madman, bolstered due in part to outstanding performances from Jack Nicholson, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Alec Baldwin, with most of the rest of the cast being forgettable as a trio of orphan chimney sweeps. Infernal Affairs is the proving factor that remakes are almost always inferior to the original source material. Lau and Mak's film has that Hong Kong style that makes Scorsese's fast-pace seem like a Grandma in the slow lane. Brutally fast-paced, insanely suspenseful, and wrought with style practically dripping from its celluloid, this is probably the best gangster film I've seen since Goodfellas, which, coincidentally is also a Scorsese movie. Watch this movie, it's fantastic.
PS. One of the stars, Tony Leung, is one of the best actors in the business. Apparently, in real life, he's somewhat of a quiet bastard. And who says opposites attract?
PS. One of the stars, Tony Leung, is one of the best actors in the business. Apparently, in real life, he's somewhat of a quiet bastard. And who says opposites attract?
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
A few thoughts and Snatch - Guy Ritchie, 2000.
So December 1st marks the anniversary of my drastic experiment, my attempt at watching at least one film every day for a year. I think it ties in nicely with my OCD and constant desire to have something to do, having abandoned video games almost entirely and finding children's trading card games to be wholly unsatisfactory. What has a year of this bollocks taught me? Well, for starters, a ton about film. Sure, I don't know much about the technical side of the equation, namely what kind of cameras are used and what sort of lighting and editing techniques are going on behind the scenes, but I'll have to take a course or watch a documentary on filmmaking to gain any knowledge of that stuff.
No, what this experiment has accomplished is getting me back into film, one of my biggest interests, aside from designer denim, medicine, and historical trivia. I know directors and their techniques and trademarks. I know which actors are capable of what. I know who's on the scene and what's coming up in the next few months. I know who's best in the indie circuit, and what the summer movies are going to look like. I've even gone back decades to learn about the old masters, and what their influence on the art form was, even if some of their films were drier than a desert on fire. I am an infinitely more educated person now, in regards to film, than I was a year ago. And the path to acquiring that knowledge, watching movies, analyzing themes, reading follow-up material, that has been an incredible amount of fun.
Now, perhaps doing another year of this would be excessive, but I don't think so. Rather, I think it would give me further opportunities to learn. More chances to experiment with genres I wouldn't normally give the time of day to (giallo, blaxploitation, Japanese film in general). Everything is a process and a path, and just chilling out, watching movies is not only good for my mental health, but also for making myself smarter. Or something.
Also, I don't think I update this blog enough, so from here on out, I'm going to use this space as a sounding board for whatever film I watch that day. Today, I watched Snatch, arguably Guy Ritchie's best film, if not his most kinetic. Fast-paced, furious, and full of that smug British dialogue, this is quite a good film. The humor can be a bit wearing at times, with many characters using the same sarcastic rhetoric question as a joke, but the characters are well-rounded and imaginative enough to not feel like caricatures. Ritchie's direction is blisteringly quick, which means the film wastes no time with explication, something also very refreshing. The griminess of London is also well-represented with Richie's picture quality, which, in any other case, would be a point against him, but in this case, works quite well, like Boyle's 28 Days Later, a personal favorite of mine. All in all, a very enjoyable, if repetitive film.
PS. Guy Ritchie went insane after this film, having married Madonna and contracted the crazies, which compelled him to make Swept Away. Ugh.
No, what this experiment has accomplished is getting me back into film, one of my biggest interests, aside from designer denim, medicine, and historical trivia. I know directors and their techniques and trademarks. I know which actors are capable of what. I know who's on the scene and what's coming up in the next few months. I know who's best in the indie circuit, and what the summer movies are going to look like. I've even gone back decades to learn about the old masters, and what their influence on the art form was, even if some of their films were drier than a desert on fire. I am an infinitely more educated person now, in regards to film, than I was a year ago. And the path to acquiring that knowledge, watching movies, analyzing themes, reading follow-up material, that has been an incredible amount of fun.
Now, perhaps doing another year of this would be excessive, but I don't think so. Rather, I think it would give me further opportunities to learn. More chances to experiment with genres I wouldn't normally give the time of day to (giallo, blaxploitation, Japanese film in general). Everything is a process and a path, and just chilling out, watching movies is not only good for my mental health, but also for making myself smarter. Or something.
Also, I don't think I update this blog enough, so from here on out, I'm going to use this space as a sounding board for whatever film I watch that day. Today, I watched Snatch, arguably Guy Ritchie's best film, if not his most kinetic. Fast-paced, furious, and full of that smug British dialogue, this is quite a good film. The humor can be a bit wearing at times, with many characters using the same sarcastic rhetoric question as a joke, but the characters are well-rounded and imaginative enough to not feel like caricatures. Ritchie's direction is blisteringly quick, which means the film wastes no time with explication, something also very refreshing. The griminess of London is also well-represented with Richie's picture quality, which, in any other case, would be a point against him, but in this case, works quite well, like Boyle's 28 Days Later, a personal favorite of mine. All in all, a very enjoyable, if repetitive film.
PS. Guy Ritchie went insane after this film, having married Madonna and contracted the crazies, which compelled him to make Swept Away. Ugh.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Return of the Jedi
Hm, perhaps it is because I have nothing to be miserable about or general lack of giving a damn, but it looks like this blog hasn't been updated in a dog's year. Again, I seek to change that, but I usually don't have much to complain about these days that I don't already air to roommates and friends and such. But for my own edification, I feel that I need to start anew my hatred of the Twilight series, the multimedia franchise that has stolen the affections of prepubescent tweens, mentally deficient teenage girls, and desperately lonely housewives that, for some inexplicable reason, has become more popular than Christianity.
The first remark I have to make comes by way of the pretentious film buff in me. The notion of romance with vampires is a road well-traveled, beginning with the brides of Dracula in Bram Stoker's novel. Apparently becoming a vampire also means becoming a libertine, pursuing the sins of the flesh, the ecstasy of carnality. And it makes sense, certainly. It is well-developed in the novel, and further adaptations of vampire stories (Ann Rice, mostly) have portrayed it in a compelling way, see Neil Jordan's Interview with the Vampire. Hell, even Park Chan-Wook's Thirst was a compelling take on the vampire romance, establishing an intriguing dichotomy between a libertine vampire and her more conservative lover. With such representations in mind, how can anyone find it interesting to listen to a bunch of anemic teenagers complain about their tough lives when they're teenagers with typical teenage problems. How can anyone find this interesting? Especially considering the billions of representations of vampires that are infinitely more compelling than this dreck. Admittedly, some of the stuff is obscure, but how that takes away from its genius is beyond my comprehension.
My next point is the inaccurate representation of vampire mythology, something that has been well established throughout the ages. Vampires age slowly, cannot withstand sunlight, sleep in coffins, are remarkably pale, suck blood to survive, and are often endowed with super powers, like being able to turn into a bat or something. Even the little girl from the absolutely brilliant film Let the Right One In ripped people to shreds when the opportunity presented itself. On the contrary, Edward Cullen is a "vegetarian," sparkles when sun hits his accurately pallid face, is too much of a pussy to use his powers, and doesn't have a coffin in his living room. I can understand putting a spin on your story, but when it completely does away with established canon, you should call it something else. Instead of vampires, call them something more accurate, like namby-pamby twatrackets.
The bile machine has fired at full force, I believe. The whole deal with Stephanie Mayer being a Mormon and using the series as a springboard to promote Mormon values really doesn't have any bearing on the bastardization of vampire mythology or inanity of the plot. Blade, embarrassingly, is a better representation of vampire mythos and has Wesley Snipes kicking the shit out of Stephen Dorff. If that doesn't excite you, I don't know what will.
PS. Does anyone else find it funny that Kristen Stewart seems capable of two facial emotions? Apparently her acting coach didn't tell her that 'bemused wonderment' and 'sudden fright' were just a few emotions on the spectrum
The first remark I have to make comes by way of the pretentious film buff in me. The notion of romance with vampires is a road well-traveled, beginning with the brides of Dracula in Bram Stoker's novel. Apparently becoming a vampire also means becoming a libertine, pursuing the sins of the flesh, the ecstasy of carnality. And it makes sense, certainly. It is well-developed in the novel, and further adaptations of vampire stories (Ann Rice, mostly) have portrayed it in a compelling way, see Neil Jordan's Interview with the Vampire. Hell, even Park Chan-Wook's Thirst was a compelling take on the vampire romance, establishing an intriguing dichotomy between a libertine vampire and her more conservative lover. With such representations in mind, how can anyone find it interesting to listen to a bunch of anemic teenagers complain about their tough lives when they're teenagers with typical teenage problems. How can anyone find this interesting? Especially considering the billions of representations of vampires that are infinitely more compelling than this dreck. Admittedly, some of the stuff is obscure, but how that takes away from its genius is beyond my comprehension.
My next point is the inaccurate representation of vampire mythology, something that has been well established throughout the ages. Vampires age slowly, cannot withstand sunlight, sleep in coffins, are remarkably pale, suck blood to survive, and are often endowed with super powers, like being able to turn into a bat or something. Even the little girl from the absolutely brilliant film Let the Right One In ripped people to shreds when the opportunity presented itself. On the contrary, Edward Cullen is a "vegetarian," sparkles when sun hits his accurately pallid face, is too much of a pussy to use his powers, and doesn't have a coffin in his living room. I can understand putting a spin on your story, but when it completely does away with established canon, you should call it something else. Instead of vampires, call them something more accurate, like namby-pamby twatrackets.
The bile machine has fired at full force, I believe. The whole deal with Stephanie Mayer being a Mormon and using the series as a springboard to promote Mormon values really doesn't have any bearing on the bastardization of vampire mythology or inanity of the plot. Blade, embarrassingly, is a better representation of vampire mythos and has Wesley Snipes kicking the shit out of Stephen Dorff. If that doesn't excite you, I don't know what will.
PS. Does anyone else find it funny that Kristen Stewart seems capable of two facial emotions? Apparently her acting coach didn't tell her that 'bemused wonderment' and 'sudden fright' were just a few emotions on the spectrum
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
One Eighty
There's always this bizarre dose of optimism that overcomes you like a nasty rash the morning after a one-night stand when you suddenly experiment with routine, completely change the people you hang around with, and just generally throw caution to the wind and forget the consequences. Perhaps the good feeling of knowing you're accelerating your mental, and, in this case, physical growth is the contributing factor behind this happiness. Perhaps the change in scenery is refreshing enough for you to prance like a gay little ninny. I believe the point I'm trying arduously to make is that I'm not a whinging little shit any more. I actually feel remarkably ashamed that I was so depressed in a land of opportunity.
Although I still feel as though I need to make a few qualifying statements. There are definitely problems here. The postage service is slightly faster than the Pony Express and when you've been hopelessly hooked on Netflix for the past eleven months, it's like holding a bag of heroin just out of an addict's reach. There's no culture here, other than partying. Everyone is still fixated on partying, getting laid, and drinking themselves onto a transplant table. I'm all for that, but I do have these crises of conscience that demand me to go visit the nearest independent movie theater, something very distressing because there are none. The food is akin to dumpster diving in the slums of Mumbai, slowly poisoning your body as you cry for more, as the alternatives get remarkably expensive.
What I dig the most of this whole deal is the urgency of academic experience. Everything is short, sweet, and brutal. Teaching assistants seem to be on cocaine, and professors disappear into the darkness the instant their class is over. It truly is a dog-eat-dog world, which I kind of get off on. Any success makes me incredibly happy, if only for a few moments. But UCSB is remarkably challenging, I do have to say. I'm behind on my reading, and I have a midterm on Friday. Let's do it.
PS. You would think a beautiful beach community never sees rain, but apparently the man responsible for the weather down here showed up drunk on the job.
Although I still feel as though I need to make a few qualifying statements. There are definitely problems here. The postage service is slightly faster than the Pony Express and when you've been hopelessly hooked on Netflix for the past eleven months, it's like holding a bag of heroin just out of an addict's reach. There's no culture here, other than partying. Everyone is still fixated on partying, getting laid, and drinking themselves onto a transplant table. I'm all for that, but I do have these crises of conscience that demand me to go visit the nearest independent movie theater, something very distressing because there are none. The food is akin to dumpster diving in the slums of Mumbai, slowly poisoning your body as you cry for more, as the alternatives get remarkably expensive.
What I dig the most of this whole deal is the urgency of academic experience. Everything is short, sweet, and brutal. Teaching assistants seem to be on cocaine, and professors disappear into the darkness the instant their class is over. It truly is a dog-eat-dog world, which I kind of get off on. Any success makes me incredibly happy, if only for a few moments. But UCSB is remarkably challenging, I do have to say. I'm behind on my reading, and I have a midterm on Friday. Let's do it.
PS. You would think a beautiful beach community never sees rain, but apparently the man responsible for the weather down here showed up drunk on the job.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Retrofitted
In a perhaps futile attempt to turn this blog back onto it's intended path, a vent for my various incoherent and hateful rants as established so damn long ago, I will now rant on the state of governmental affairs in America. You know, the Obama administration, whose capabilities seem only to be yapping about fixing everything. The Democrat controlled Congress and Senate that would pass a mandate forcing all racial minorities into concentration camps on the North Pole. What do these two things have in common? Their complete ineptitude? Their utter intellectuality? Correct, reader!
I am going to echo Bill Maher here when I say that Barack Obama needs a bit of George W. Bush in him. Bush did terrible things while in office; force the country into a quagmire in Iraq, wiretapped citizens, let greed run amok on Wall Street, and turned the country into as close a police state as we've ever been. But the crucial difference is that he got things done. He didn't beg for permission from his Daddy or wait for Congressional approval before attacking Saddam, he just got it done. And that's what Obama needs to do. He needs to push all of his new ideas, great ideas, mind you, onto the American people and force them to accept that yes, poor people are getting medical coverage no matter what you titwhistles keep blithering on about. Yes, I am going to keep kids in school. Yes, I am going to reduce carbon emissions. Yes, I am going to close Guantanamo Bay. Yes, I am going to invest in renewable infrastructure. Get the fuck over it. Obama has smarts, there's absolutely no doubting that. What he lacks, however, like all Democrats, is a spine. Stop trying to appease the crazies, Mr. President. They're going to stay insane, and no amount of reasonable rhetoric is going to penetrate their ten-inch thick skulls.
Next, we have a Congress that is more inept than Mr. Bean in a shoe factory. There is an overwhelming majority of Democrats in both houses and the Republicans are running like a schoolgirl would from a spider. Their ineffectual rhetoric about Socialism and Fascism gets parroted with every leader they disagree with, do not listen to them. Do not attempt to reach across the aisle. You're not Ted Kennedy, just fucking get some shit done. It doesn't even matter what! Fix health care! Impose regulations on Wall Street! Wash a car! Just stop reminding the American people that you're completely incompetent. The best ideas, at the moment, come from the left. But the Democrats are like a child with a chainsaw; has all sorts of ideas of what to do with it, but when he actually gets it, all he does is hack off his mother's legs.
In conclusion, the situation as it is sucks a lot. "Change We Can Believe In," as with most political slogans, is a load of shit. The only change we can enact is impeaching Obama and replacing him with a frog or something. Because at least then we could say we elected the first frog-president.
PS. Tune in next time when I describe my political affiliations, as if anyone cares.
I am going to echo Bill Maher here when I say that Barack Obama needs a bit of George W. Bush in him. Bush did terrible things while in office; force the country into a quagmire in Iraq, wiretapped citizens, let greed run amok on Wall Street, and turned the country into as close a police state as we've ever been. But the crucial difference is that he got things done. He didn't beg for permission from his Daddy or wait for Congressional approval before attacking Saddam, he just got it done. And that's what Obama needs to do. He needs to push all of his new ideas, great ideas, mind you, onto the American people and force them to accept that yes, poor people are getting medical coverage no matter what you titwhistles keep blithering on about. Yes, I am going to keep kids in school. Yes, I am going to reduce carbon emissions. Yes, I am going to close Guantanamo Bay. Yes, I am going to invest in renewable infrastructure. Get the fuck over it. Obama has smarts, there's absolutely no doubting that. What he lacks, however, like all Democrats, is a spine. Stop trying to appease the crazies, Mr. President. They're going to stay insane, and no amount of reasonable rhetoric is going to penetrate their ten-inch thick skulls.
Next, we have a Congress that is more inept than Mr. Bean in a shoe factory. There is an overwhelming majority of Democrats in both houses and the Republicans are running like a schoolgirl would from a spider. Their ineffectual rhetoric about Socialism and Fascism gets parroted with every leader they disagree with, do not listen to them. Do not attempt to reach across the aisle. You're not Ted Kennedy, just fucking get some shit done. It doesn't even matter what! Fix health care! Impose regulations on Wall Street! Wash a car! Just stop reminding the American people that you're completely incompetent. The best ideas, at the moment, come from the left. But the Democrats are like a child with a chainsaw; has all sorts of ideas of what to do with it, but when he actually gets it, all he does is hack off his mother's legs.
In conclusion, the situation as it is sucks a lot. "Change We Can Believe In," as with most political slogans, is a load of shit. The only change we can enact is impeaching Obama and replacing him with a frog or something. Because at least then we could say we elected the first frog-president.
PS. Tune in next time when I describe my political affiliations, as if anyone cares.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Bloggy blog blog
It is perhaps with a degree of cautious optimism that I say I am beginning to dig the vibe of this place. Sure, the utter lack of movie venues and other cultural bastions (where are all the museums for all the boring, stuffy people?!) make me want to cough up chunks of my pancreas, but there's definitely a lot to like, as well. The attitude everyone has is mostly carefree, which isn't exclusive to just the student body; the professors and teaching assistants are the same way. If you try, you'll get a rewarding experience. If not, whatever. Nobody is much hostile to anyone else, and everyone is very chummy. Even this stumbling drunkard who vomited all over the Theta house and destroyed parts of their fence was treated very well, which was quite the show.
The other cool thing about this place is how self-centered it encourages you to be, but perhaps that's just my ornery self rationalizing my disgust for human beings. Staying in your room, listening to death metal, and just chilling isn't looked down upon. Encouraged, even. Sure, you might feel a little bad for not indulging in the party scene because it's so in-your-face, but for the most part, people won't make you feel bad for not wanting to party. Furthermore, as all the males seem to be cut from the granite that built the columns of Mount Olympus, going to the gym is an absolute necessity. Even if you're extremely secure and don't mind showing off your obnoxiously large gut to random passerby, watching a gaggle of perfectly tan and shapely girls being accompanied by guys with builds like Abercrombie models still compels you to work out. And damn, does it feel good to exercise, as I covered in the previous entry.
Still, a handful of complaints continue to nibble at my shins like a starved puppy dog. A lot of the people seem to be cut from the same cloth, to the point where I honestly cannot distinguish one person from another. Girls are all so buxom and beautiful that I have trouble telling them apart. Guys hoot and holler about their infeasibly gigantic muscles to the point where I just shut off my brain and just guess people's names. Also, being the antisocial caveman recluse I am, eating alone in the dining commons makes me feel incredibly crappy and exposed for some inexplicable reason, but that could just be the food tearing a hole in my gut. Eating well at Santa Barbara is a notion founded in myth and fairy tales. If you want to eat well, prepare to pay an arm and a leg at one of the off-campus places. Otherwise, make due with the dumpster dinner they provide you. By God, the food here has wreaked havoc on my digestive system.
To conclude, I definitely feel more at home here. I suppose I was right (as per usual!). I just needed the quarter to start. The avalanche of work and extremely interesting classes has abated my miseries, at least for now. I'm sure once midterms and papers start rolling in, I'll want to throw myself off Storke Tower like I did when I first got here.
PS. I can't wait to go home just because the postal system here is like living in the 18th century.
The other cool thing about this place is how self-centered it encourages you to be, but perhaps that's just my ornery self rationalizing my disgust for human beings. Staying in your room, listening to death metal, and just chilling isn't looked down upon. Encouraged, even. Sure, you might feel a little bad for not indulging in the party scene because it's so in-your-face, but for the most part, people won't make you feel bad for not wanting to party. Furthermore, as all the males seem to be cut from the granite that built the columns of Mount Olympus, going to the gym is an absolute necessity. Even if you're extremely secure and don't mind showing off your obnoxiously large gut to random passerby, watching a gaggle of perfectly tan and shapely girls being accompanied by guys with builds like Abercrombie models still compels you to work out. And damn, does it feel good to exercise, as I covered in the previous entry.
Still, a handful of complaints continue to nibble at my shins like a starved puppy dog. A lot of the people seem to be cut from the same cloth, to the point where I honestly cannot distinguish one person from another. Girls are all so buxom and beautiful that I have trouble telling them apart. Guys hoot and holler about their infeasibly gigantic muscles to the point where I just shut off my brain and just guess people's names. Also, being the antisocial caveman recluse I am, eating alone in the dining commons makes me feel incredibly crappy and exposed for some inexplicable reason, but that could just be the food tearing a hole in my gut. Eating well at Santa Barbara is a notion founded in myth and fairy tales. If you want to eat well, prepare to pay an arm and a leg at one of the off-campus places. Otherwise, make due with the dumpster dinner they provide you. By God, the food here has wreaked havoc on my digestive system.
To conclude, I definitely feel more at home here. I suppose I was right (as per usual!). I just needed the quarter to start. The avalanche of work and extremely interesting classes has abated my miseries, at least for now. I'm sure once midterms and papers start rolling in, I'll want to throw myself off Storke Tower like I did when I first got here.
PS. I can't wait to go home just because the postal system here is like living in the 18th century.
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