01.31.08

…; the rain fell in Torrance, except at occasional Inglewood, when it was checked by a violent gust of Westwood which swept up the freeways (for it is in La-La that our scene — and just about everybody else! — lies)…

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 3:03 pm by Gregory

Oh yeah, and:

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO THIS WEB-JOURNAL THING!

Can you believe it? Two years to the day (or…to the post-meridiem).

Zoinks!

How long can a man survive without any of the comforts that give a body Reason?

(I’d check my watch — but who wears a watch anymore?)

Who was it who said that Crisis is Opportunity in disguise? It’s probably credited to Gandhi or King or Lennon or one of those assassinated peace guys. Comes from the Chinese, though…

Anyway, it has been odd — feeling almost non-stop stimulation (mostly negative) sans security of any real sort.

Two full years using this thing. Wow. Zing! But of course there’s a previous attempt at “blogging” (archived on the site), plus years and years of much more lively (for they were written before life became almost entirely L.A. — with all that entails, and doesn’t — and computery things for me) journals.

Anyway, here’s wishing you — no, wait, this is too fun…

Evolution. There has been some.

Much of my energy is spent being communicative and happy and loving. Really. And there’s also a new strength which allows me to say — under appropriate circumstances, to individuals deserving — things such as:

“What the hell do you know? You sleep with a dog.”

and/or

“Nice car. Are you retarded?”

and/or

“Your music sucks, whereas mine is good.”

(I actually said this tonight, as I employed a fave CD to cover the noise of some guy blasting the bellowing of some other guy who sounded like he was being fitted with an inappropriate length of PVC — which is to say, any length.)

Plus, a fun old standby:

“Kubrick was no big deal, Springsteen is a fraud, the chicks covering all the classic rock songs in Starbucks totally suck, Radiohead are boring, and The Red Shoes is Kate Bush’s best album.”*

(Note: This sentence is designed to annoy as many know-it-all white people as possible, and does not necessarily reveal the specific tastes of the author — although he really does love The Red Shoes.)

As long as we’re on a roll…

Gregory’s (Partial) Wish List for 2008:

* I wish that Paul “Bono” Hewson would shut the hell up for the rest of the year, and just go spend our money.

* I wish that the fighting would cease immediately.

* I wish that we would all get a clue that wicked entities such as the petroleum industry and factory farming and deforestation and oceanic dumping and plain old greed are literally killing our one and only — only! — planet very, very, very hastily — and that in order to save the thousands of species we currently eradicate each and every week not to mention ourselves we are all going to have to stop being stupid instantaneously.

* I wish that all of the completely superfluous and useless female celebrities who clog Western media to an alarming and embarrassing degree would suddenly disappear and never return.

* I wish that somebody would walk quite casually up to Dubya on live television and crap in his face — literally.

* I wish that Freddie Mercury (or at least Faroukh Bulsara) were still alive.

* I wish that, to quote Edith Evans: “When a woman behaves like a man, why doesn’t she behave like a nice man?”

* I wish that average people in average places would absolutely boycott lousy movies and lousy television and lousy radio and lousy newspapers. (Quality, people. Otherwise, why bother?)

* I wish that zealots would wake up and suddenly declare: “Oh! Y’know — our religion is kinda ridiculous, actually. Sorry about all that murder we caused!”

* I wish that I hadn’t sold my Paul Atreides action figure in order to eat.

* I wish that Karma were significantly more Instant.

* I wish that my own flaws would stop eclipsing my gifts (for we don’t zoom around our little yellow star all that many times per body).

* I wish that you could have a truly happy year — sans greed and ignorance and fear and hatred and illness and pro sports and boogers and Madonna and war and evil and Starbucks and enslavement and McDonalds and cats and lies and automobiles and hangnails — and especially sans stupidity and the denial behind which it cowers.

Could you?

Permalink Comments

Well, so much for my usual machine-like precision…

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 2:42 pm by Gregory

Let’s see…

Essays and Updates and Reviews…oh, my!

Soon enough!

Those who sent me hate-mail last year may be delighted to know that I’m not only speaking with my mother at her birthday this year, I even sent her a nice present or two.

Many things amusing and downbeat have occurred over the past few days (both “my” candidate and my Conservative friend’s candidate have dropped out, just for starters), but there isn’t “time” to relate all this presently. One fave bit:

A few days ago, I was sitting in a cafe with friend P., and a skinny, septuagenarian man strode up to me with a sheepish grin and said: “Excuse me, please…but are you Paul Mazursky?”

Yeah!

Now don’t that just take the cake!

(Oddly, I had been thinking of The Monkees that very afternoon, and how much I enjoyed that programme as a child; actually, I fully expected, upon arrival in SoCal, that guy-friends would be theatrical but straight, loads of fun every single day, outrageously musical, and even keep a tidy yet fanciful house. Plus gorgeous girls who are surprisingly smart and pleasant. With occasional leering-but-not-dangerous gypsies lurking about. Oops. Nothing like that whatsover. Darn.)

Anyway, once questioned, the guy divulged that he had gone to school with Mazursky…and that perhaps I’m just a bit too young to fit the description. (Thank you — like, several decades too young.)

Also of extremely random note: Intrigued by pop things and as rampantly Anglophiliac as ever, I dug through my library the other night and found a copy of For Your Eyes Only — which is billed as a compendium of “5 James Bond Thrillers.” Well…not exactly — especially in the case of “Quantum of Solace” — which I read with great amusement (but it’s far from being a “thriller”). It is a tale of ruined romance with a fun little twist at the end, brimming with Ian Fleming’s standard brew of upper-crustiness and simmering misanthropy, and I feel certain that it is a much more involving tale than the unrelated movie which will bear its title.

Made me feel a whole lot better about callow, shallow, deceitful women, anyway.

Bless the smart, kind ones!

(Had a lovely time last night; thank you.)

Incidentally, today is also the actress’ birthday; like I care; she ignored mine; I hope somebody finally gives her that Pomeranian (could be “code” talk; sinister giggle).

Oh, and over here I sense a woman who, despite her many talents, needs a refresher course in the ol’ “‘i’ before ‘e’ except after ‘c’” rule!

Mel Brooks and Rudy de Luca made my week. Life Stinks is a wonderful and very funny movie. American Cinematheque 4-eva!

Thirty years ago, an astonishing blizzard swept across this particular land-mass; I recall it well…

Ah, yes, and I have just recieved — WHOOPS! HA! — received the most glorious calendar from my nephew, who is an exceptional artist and designer; ta, Nephew!

Gotta go — tonight the votes are counted, and the year’s truest, most payola- and marketing-free winners are announced!

Chanson du soir: “I’m A Man You Don’t Meet Every Day” by The Pogues

(Once again, this has not been a post.)

Permalink Comments

01.29.08

Heckling at awards shows…

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 12:42 pm by Gregory

…should be mandatory; or at least applauded!

That woman. Whatever James Woods did to her, obviously it hasn’t worn off yet.

In other news — I’m going to attempt to get back in the Review Saddle ce soir. No promises, as way too much other material demands my attention — but it’s fun to bounce around in that world (particularly since most of its inhabitants are afraid to bounce).

Somebody please remind me to list a few choice entries from my spam folder. Hilarious!

This has not been a post.

Song of the Day: “Things Can Only Get Better” by Howard Jones (just try getting that out of your head!)

Permalink Comments

01.28.08

Dead Time

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 2:42 am by Gregory

Not literally; not here, anyway. Just a nice, dramatic head for another non-post.

I was walking outside in the wind and the rain, and the incredible desolation of this generally densely populated region impressed itself upon me a bit. Maybe that’s the source of the title. Or it may have been the environmental contrast to the near-overdose of jollies from Mel Brooks movies. Something like that.

The current new releases don’t interest me. In English:

They look crap.

Oh, let’s see: The actress texted on Thursday, called on Sunday (didn’t leave a message). Anybody think I should call her back? I don’t. 2007 was a significant (and gruelling) Lesson Year for me — in how some people really do nothing but suck the life out of others.

Speaking of which, even though it’s less well-received than most of Mel’s other films, I did sit through Dracula: Dead and Loving It tonight — and it’s reasonably amusing for a semi-claustrophobic movie from Culver City. I somehow missed it upon its release (probably because I was playing a singing vampire live on stage that year — in addition to moving back to Hell-A). Anyway, one moment in particular really got a howl out of me. Van Helsing (Mel) is explaining to Jonathan that Lucy is now a vampire — and proceeds through a few different terms for the monster, ending with “She is…Nosferatu!” — to which Jonathan, shocked, replies:

“She’s Italian?!”

That’s the stuff; density and refinement just need work.

See how utterly fascinating my life is at the moment?

Oh, yeah: Monday doesn’t exist anyway.

I could go on and on with the current amusements and observations — but frankly it’s raining right now and I strongly desire to fall asleep to that glorious pitter-patter.

Chanson du soir: “Rain Rain Beautiful Rain” by Ladysmith Black Mambazo

Permalink Comments

01.25.08

Entertainment Kvetching

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 12:42 pm by Gregory

Quick one here; once again not an actual Post!

I have made the mistake of checking out entertainment news before eating lunch. The result is annoyance.

Least of annoyances: The trailer for Nim’s Island. Me, I am totally fucking sick of “Trailer Voice Guy”. Just go away, “Trailer Voice Guy” — thou art insipid! Movie looks cute, and if I had a child I’d bring her to it — and, further, I hope that it inspires some people who need a little amusement. But the forumla! Egad! I hope I don’t even have to explain why the forumla behind this guaranteed goldmine of a movie is offensive in its on-the-nose-ness. And when “Trailer Voice Guy” intoned “This Spring…journey to a place…where Adventure runs wild!” — I felt a profound desire to fart in his general direction. (Since when does “Adventure run wild” at the multiplex?)

A more serious offender is Amy Winehouse — well, not really the pathetic little bint with the man’s voice — but rather her PR people, who — in all seriousness — declare: “Amy is the most talented and important musical artist of her generation…” Ha! Ha ha ha ha HA! Please get over yourselves a little bit, okay? If the girl can’t handle being an entertainer, there are plenty of restaurants that would be happy to hire her as a fry-cook.

Worse: James Bond “22″ (technically 23, or even 24): “Quantum of Solace”. Okay — that means even less than the average Bond title — which is an achievement. But this quote from Olga Kurylenko seals that I won’t even bother to see the movie: “I’m doing weapons training and body flight training for aerial scenes and stunt work for fighting. My days are so long, and it’s very physical. She’s going to be very different from the previous Bond girls. She’s a fighter. This girl is going to kick ass. She’s on her own mission and she’s driven by revenge.”

BARF!

First of all, that sounds like most women I’ve encountered in L.A. (minus, in many cases, the physical training).

Second, one word: Jinx.

Third, just shut up already. Could you be any more boring? Franchise closed.

Meanwhile, in sad news, the memorial for Heath Ledger will be held in L.A. this weekend. Not sure why, as he adopted New York as his hometown, but I sincerely hope that many find healing in their hearts as a result of this.

And that’s it for entertainment today. I like it, generally — but not when it takes itself so obscenely seriously.

Bon week-end!

Chanson: “That’s Entertainment” by The Jam

Permalink Comments

01.24.08

Il pleut!

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 11:42 pm by Gregory

Oh, I am so happy!

People who don’t like water tumbling out of the sky are insane.

I have lived in various places where water tumbles out of the sky incessantly.

I loved that, too.

Annoyed that Dennis Kucinich is dropping out of the race — mainly because a very conservative friend of mine (I don’t draw friendship lines for politics; never shall) suggested that I take a non-partisan political quiz online, to see who would be “my” candidate; I did; and Kucinich topped the chart.

Pretty funny, since I don’t like Ohio (I know one person from there whom I like; you may otherwise demolish the state — been trying to do that from within for years anyway, by the look of it).

Anyway, Hillary was running a very close second, which is fine with me: I’d much rather have a woman leading the world than a man. Women do shitty, horrible things all the time — but they don’t generally get off on killing people.

This is not an actual post, so I’m not gonna get into it — but since blondes and black guys dig each other so much (don’t get all weird, just look around), I suggest that Barack and Hillary just get a room and do it ’til the morning light (’twould serve Bill right), and then everybody can relax and just elect somebody whose primary objective is not destroying everything good in the world (for a change).

Mel Brooks for President!

The American Cinematheque is currently in the midst of a Mel Brooks retrospective, and he was present last night (and fun…or should I say “Funn”?) — and then tonight he wasn’t even there, but the hundred or so of us cheered and applauded just as if he were — and Silent Movie and High Anxiety (my fave) looked like the prints were struck yesterday!

Mel Brooks: Healer of Worlds!

(Well — it’s called The Best Medicine, oui?)

Okay, computer screwing up beyond comprehension.

Going to bed early (for a change).

Rain

Love it!

Permalink Comments

01.22.08

Heath Ledger Dead

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 5:28 pm by Gregory

Hm.

I just conducted a bit of surfing, and discovered the headline “Heath Ledger Found Dead in New York.”

Naturally, for a moment I thought it was a prank. It certainly looked like a prank. As if all those overweight, undersexed, overly-clever (and thus romantically destitute) guys at The Onion were having a go at ol’ Mr. Gay-For-Pay.

Except that…apparently Heath Ledger is actually dead.

There are reasons for these things. Let us not merely take the coroner’s report tomorrow at face value. “The Industry” (as it is called) occasionally destroys lives. Did James Dean die in a car-crash? Did Brandon Lee die from a prop-gun? Did that grunge loser really commit suicide?

Ostensibly — but there is much more to the story (which is why the hypersensitive girls keep buying the story — over and over and over again: “I could straighten him out!” Cha-CHING!!!).

Damn it, Heath — did you have to kill yourself, naked and alone in your room, on the very birthday of the late MICHAEL HUTCHENCE?

(Hey, everybody! I claim the option on Heath Ledger: Yet Another Confused [Yet Sexy] Antipodean!)

Nah.

Actually, my nieces were the first to tip me off to the presence of Heath Ledger. It wasn’t that Aussie TV show, which had brought him to the attention of casting directors (and, thus, Money People). It was 10 Things I Hate About You. I liked the movie, too. I thought it was pretty cool.

I also liked A Knight’s Tale. A lot. (Frankly, I could have used an A Knight’s Tale franchise.)

I interviewed Heath Ledger in 2005, in tandem with Matt “Mongoloid Face” Damon — for The Brothers Grimm (which I openly admitted liking; deal with it).

I think I snapped a photo of Ledger that day; I should probably find it sometime.

He had shorn off most of his hair. And I think that his baby daughter was current news.

I didn’t like Brokeback Mountain. Not because it’s gay (I liked, for instance, Touch of Pink — which is arguably gayer) — but because I found it punishingly melodramatic when it wasn’t painstakingly being boring. (That movie nearly put me off reviewing altogether — as the rickety, shambling mess that is There Will Be Blood is threatening to do currently.)

Actually, I think — yeah, I did, because there was a very annoying and very flaming sushi-restaurant owner sitting next to me in the sold-out house, and he kept staring at me, making the movie even less enjoyable — I attended a screening of Brokeback with both male stars (amongst others) in attendance. Security was the heaviest I’ve ever seen for such an event (and in two decades in L.A., I’ve seen many) — with several goons in the front squared off against the audience throughout the Q&A, mercilessly draining the experience of anything approaching humanity.

Since I didn’t like that movie, I didn’t really care that Heath Ledger was there (likewise: I’m Not There — ironic?!)

Judging by a really tedious camera-pointed-at-self home-movie Ledger made as a sort of music video to a Nick Drake song, which I viewed at the sensational Mods & Rockers Film Festival last year (tellingly, the fabulously talented Drake also died at a ridiculously young age from an overdose of pills), Ledger was already involved in some sort of spiral (depicted literally: for much of the clip, he simply pointed the camera at his own face and spun around in a park).

Women — especially ignorant, “passionate” women — totally dig guys stuck in spirals; this phenomenon is very sad.

However, it is not a phenomenon I expected to see repeated so soon — and on such a noteworthy scale. (Didn’t Renfro die just last week? At twenty-five? What’s the deal? And amidst all this, why must Tom Cruise remain alive?)

More irony: Ledger only recently completed principal photography in his role as (apparently) The Joker for the Batman franchise. I dismissed what I saw of this as being, mostly, a rip-off of The Crow, i.e.: The Crow-ker.

And — as with that movie — here we go again!

Here — Industry…World…here’s a hint: If somebody is obviously very insecure, do not reward them with loads of cash, glamour and royalty-status!

Another “sexy” disturbed youth (with commendable acting chops) lost his life ridiculously early for about the same reason. His name was River Phoenix. He was only twenty-three.

Is the pattern not obvious? Is anybody missing it?

I don’t know Heath Ledger’s story, and I only met him once. He seemed nice enough. There’s something about him being slammed by his Australian public for leaving his roots and (is this true?) denouncing the place — but the facts on that are uncertain.

What is certain is that fame and fortune will not soothe nor heal a tortured soul.

I already didn’t like the look of the latest Batman movie (a franchise probably best done “gay,” to ladle on yet more irony; good evening, Mr. Clooney), and when I viewed its opening heist sequence (pirated from an IMAX theatre) on YouTube, I was very disappointed in what I was seeing. Violent, stupid and ugly. The overall movie may be terrific — who knows; I haven’t seen it — but I strongly suspect that these aggressive young fellows, in attempting to make their (borrowed) dark fantasies “real” — are missing the point of myth and metaphor to a truly dreadful degree.

The dead “Joker” (he didn’t look the part anyway) will perhaps sell the movie even better than the live “Joker” could have done — and now we all have another dead young idol to worship (however, in a statistically-noteworthy feat of extension, he did make it past twenty-seven, if barely). This tragedy, however — beyond mere morbidity — does not bode well for the release of that film.

Somebody, quick! — put Harry and Ron on a routine watch!

Alas.

Heath, since I didn’t say this to you when I was but one of a few tedious journalists gathered at the Four Seasons one hot, smoggy day a couple of summers back, here is an amalgam of comments from Then and Now:

You appeared in some fine films, and gave some fine performances. Thank you. I really enjoyed 10 Things, A Knight’s Tale, Lords of Dogtown and Brothers Grimm. In absolute truth, when I viewed your “surprise” suicide moment in Monster’s Ball, I hoped with a sense of relief that your expression therein was one of metaphorical release. Apparently it wasn’t. Alas. Yours is a career, overall, I would have delighted in watching develop over the years — and it would have been nice to see you as an old man (and me even older) via a holo-projector, trundling across some gilded stage to receive a well-earned Lifetime Achievement Award. You seemed like a nice guy, too. Good to meet you. I’m not particularly looking forward to your role in Nolan’s current Batman movie, but I am sorry that you’re gone, and shall remember you fondly — with well wishes to your surviving family — and with a strong warning to (unstable) young men: To seek, hastily, the wisdom of intelligent, kind, patient, trustworthy elders.

Heath Ledger: 1979-2008

~Gregory

Permalink Comments

bigreyum

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 5:00 pm by Gregory

Sweet, huge, pendulous

Clouds hang above Transition;

Me? Incredulous.

-

(Back with more soon…)

Permalink Comments

01.17.08

DON’T PANIC!

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 12:42 pm by Gregory

Hi.

Been doing things in three, four and five dimensions recently — rather than merely two — thus the current ebb of wordage here.

Following a slew of New! Releases! I have been revisiting a few maligned and ignored films of yesteryear on a large flat-screen television I literally found in the alley (during a heavy rainstorm, no less). This has been interesting — wanting more than anything to MOVE and then receiving from the Universe an extremely heavy (but, indeed, functional) television monitor.

At least I know how to use it properly (which is to say: It is always OFF, until it isn’t.)

Anyway, since the majority of my local friends are movie nerds (telephone? email? whuzzat?) and my farflung friends are remaining farflung, this is just a note to say hello (unless you suck — but that doesn’t count for most people I know) and to confirm aliveness.

It’s a fallow time anyway. January is mostly a movie-dump month (although I shall review one or two), everybody is (or feels they are) strapped after the holidays, and we’re almost into another Air sign — which never bodes well for matters of substance. Heck, Sav-On doesn’t even have any new Star Wars figures: a certain sign of fallowness!

Although there are many candidates, this year’s Melvin Kaminsky Award For Being Very Old Without Being Dead Yet may go to a surprise actress. Hint: She’s a real wild thing.

Apart from that, check out the Nominations. If you want to vote, just write a review and — as Editor Supremo — I’ll post it for the world to see.

Still having a hard time acknowledging the departure of Brandi. This may go on awhile. Pardon lapses.

By the new format, however, it looks like I basically owe an Essay from last week, then an Essay and Update this week. That should be do-able.

Right — back to work.

Song of the Day: “Goodbye Girl” by Squeeze

Permalink Comments

01.13.08

Golden Globes EXCLUSIVE!

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 11:59 pm by Gregory

Welllll……..not exactly: But technically this note does mention the Globes; if indeed mainly it’s the title line because that will increase readership for a couple of days.

Whee.

How’re you?

I rode a bicycle through the night; first time in years; felt great.

No helmet.

(Remember “Not Being Completely Paranoid”? I liked that era.)

As this is not really a proper posting, I shall make with the quickness.

First of all, the Official Nominations for this year’s dizzyingly sexy ÜberCiné Awards will be posted on or about 15 January, 2008.

The reason for this is that it really can be tricky for a truly independent operation to access the majority of the more significant films in a timely manner. Sweeney Todd and The Water Horse, for instance, still need to be viewed — for they are Potential Contenders.

I managed to sit through Lust, Caution, Persepolis and 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days over the week-end. The funny thing is, the first and last of that lineup provide ideal headlines for the reviews of each other (Ang Lee’s movie feels about that long). I wasn’t too wowed by either of them, but Persepolis is a masterpiece. Really. Not “pulling a Hammond” on you or anything. It’s that good. Please go see Persepolis. Bring friends.

Speaking of Pete Hammond — I don’t really know him, but have seen him around, and he is a pleasant fellow. Nonetheless, I really couldn’t stand his quote-whorishness, and am pleased that, for now, that is at an end. (As I mentioned to a friend, if I bitch about someone’s career, it dies: Worked with his, and worked with mine, too!)

Anyway, if you want some mean-spirited giggles (and who doesn’t, really? Oh, you saints!), “Google” (that REALLY should not be a “verb”) “Pete Hammond fired.” The results are quite amusing.

I wish him well. But Maxim? To hell with that crap.

Oh, yeah: Brevity.

Two items on the front page of — what was it? Daily News? — a couple of days ago dismayed me almost enough to type about them here. I suppose now I am, albeit briefly:

They called Juno a “Word-of-Mouth Smash Hit.” Oh, come the fuck on. Please. It’s a nice movie. It’s cute. It’s funny. It’s pretty smart. But let us not try to railroad consumers into believing that there’s anything “word-of-mouth” about a Fox Searchlight movie directed by nepotism royalty with a major marketing push making damned sure that Jack and Jill in the provinces are very aware of it and dying to see it. Please stop lying immediately. Thank you.

(Think I’m the hardline on that topic? Hardly. Try this guy: http://www.imdb.com/user/ur14037348/comments)

(He needs a bit of spelling help, and steals my “think for ourselves” cue, but I appreciate that he’s aware of the “herd mentality” that also encouraged every Starbucks employee to quote Napoleon Dynamite non-stop for about two years. When comedy becomes horror.)

Speaking of politics, the other item stated that in the Gropenator’s new budget package (one would figure, given his prolonged steroid usage, that it’s a smallish package) The Man Who Should Not Be In Politics has decided to close — that’s close — nearly fifty California State Parks. Insanity. There is no other word for it.

Please — somebody in government, do something, anything, that I do not find reprehensible.

It sure has been a hella-depressing seven years, hasn’t it?

What else? Oh…on a personal level, friends may be pleased to note that I am no longer sick with longing. Currently, I don’t feel any longing whatsoever. And yet I feel quite alive. This is a nice change. Call it: Not Love, Actually. (I like it.)

And then there’s semantics: Of course I mean the Western, Romantic definition — which is completely useless and even potentially suicidal in Stupidland. But let’s not waste time explaining further. (There’s certainly no lack of Lovin’.)

Anyway…yeah…The Golden Globes:

Seems all right to me. I recall swinging past the Hilton about four years ago, hanging around with the great unwashed behind a fence, watching the celebs wafting into the ceremony. My mission was to get a photo of Johnny Depp. I actually did, through his limo window (he waved). It’s grainy and horrible, but it was an enjoyable process, much like “shooting” an exotic bird — and it was with the spirit of my cousin-in-law (Hi!) in mind. I tend to grow weary of that guy constantly having all the fun and getting everything he wants — but he does make movies more fun than most people can — particularly goddammed actors.

Since then, I haven’t paid a whole lot of attention to the process, but this year I glance at the winners and I am reasonably well satisfied. The Globes — being run by the Hollywood Foreign Press (who are very nice but probably always a bit worried about putting a foot wrong or getting sent back to their boring old homeland or whatever) — tend to be a sort of “safe” show, generally — but I like that they’re less stodgy (and less predictable) than the Oscars. And this year is no exception. It’s pretty fresh. Of course, Blanchett wins for doing a caricature that would have seemed fun had SNL existed in 1965 (whatever), and Shatner miraculously doesn’t win — but all in all — apart from Persepolis not running off with both Best Motion Pictures, plus Animation, plus “Foreign” Language (I loathe that term and very unfair category!!! Why on Earth — literally — would the Foreign Press see fit to ghettoise great films in a “Foreign” category???) — the selections seem balanced enough. I liked Joe Wright’s Pride and Prejudice quite a bit, but haven’t yet seen Atonement, so my opining about these awards ends here. Good non-show.

Last week’s Essay and Update didn’t quite pass muster, thus they’ll be posted — maybe with some backlog — when editing time makes itself available. Which is to say: Maybe never. But you never know. Never Say Never Again.

Actually, y’know, I suppose that this is Update #1 of 2008. Live It Up.

Since we’re on that, lemme tell you a funny experience that happened about a week ago. My friend T. and I walked into a diner…and, quite suddenly, I found myself gazing into a young woman’s visage which could only be described as wearing an “industrially pissy” expression. She was apparently a blonde, and appeared kind of dazed and angry. (It’s a look I see often.) Being male and single, my mind quickly made the requisite calculations (”Hot” =~7 or thereabouts; “Pissy” = -60,000; thus No Way. Q.E.D.), and then I forgot about her unhappy countenance hanging there three feet away, and T. and I strode to a table across the room. After a moment, spake he: “Did you see who that was sitting by the door?” Honestly, I had already forgotten Pissy Face, and strove to comprehend which door, which person. “Lindsay Lohan,” said he. This I further attempted to calculate: Was she a brunette or a blonde? And again, which door? Then I put it together. And shrugged. (Frankly: Actress + Born In New York City = Why Bother?) Ever amused by novelty, however, a few minutes later I walked past again, but she and her gaggle had gone. However, come to think of it, T. was right. I used to review her movies, and the face — albeit contorted by misery — matched. Pretty funny. Ick.

Anyway, it’s been a while. Perhaps some Mailbag?

This from “Xanthous Dye = Blue” (sign: Yield) — possibly from somewhere in Virginia, USA:

Your site is strange. It’s a cross between professional and Geocities. I do want to say that agreeing with you isn’t important when you dig so far into the films. I like that. I doubt many people would catch editing mistakes so easily, or at all. The (lots of distracting words here, so many you forget what I was saying) what was I saying?

Hey, Xanthous, thanks! That sort of note is a real platonic caress on the left bicep. I am guessing that you are referring to my review of The Bucket List, and that current #1 Movie In America does indeed contain some alarming continuity errors (but I liked it anyway). And why not dig? (Isn’t that what critics are supposed to do? [I mean, really? {No -- really-really.}]) As for “Geocities” — back when people were using that stuff and posting pictures of their grunge idols or whatever, I found The Internet to be daunting, and email a bit weird, and mostly I liked paper and stamps — if not (when possible) actual Presence. But as this is very much a D.I.Y. gig, I am grateful for your appraisal (and wear it with pride). Cheers.

And from Mina (sign: Unlisted) — apparently from British Columbia, Canada (where they make all those movies based in the “United States”):

Hi, Gregory. I’ve been checking out your site for a couple of years, reading your reviews, noticing when you’re clearly feeling low, wondering why you even bother with such horrid girls (;/), and just wondering what you’re going to do next. More than anything, however, I note that you spend an inordinate amount of time writing about music, particularly for a movie related site. No problem, it’s your site, but is that more of a passion for you? It seems to be, because whether you’re feeling oppressed by the tunes at the supermarket or raving up a terrific concert, you rarely stray far from the general topic. I guess that’s not a question but rather an observation. And here’s the question: Would you be interested in checking out my music? A couple of friends and I have just started a band, and since you tend to articulate your sensibilities publicly and well, we’d (well, I’d) like to see if maybe you’d give us a plug! If interested, get back, and keep up the good work!

Um…

First, thanks. A bit of inspiration there, and much appreciated.

Second, having already contended with a wannabe “Goth” from up there (a very draining and discouraging experience), I hope and pray, Mina, that you’ll be understanding if I express some preliminary reticence.

Third, sure. Of course I’d be happy to give your music a spin (or, if you email or link some, a — blip?)

Fourth, although I’m getting into imagery again these days, I’ve always been a listener. (This perhaps explains why it deeply upsets me when other people don’t listen at all — but that’s another matter.) The Sound of a Motion Picture is every bit as important as the Picture — and within that Sound the Music is perhaps the most vital element. Moreover, Cinema is the group-marriage of almost all of the Arts, and as such, I feel my tendency to root for the underdog emerge — and Sound, in Cinema, is usually the underdog. To acknowledge and appreciate all the elements involved — I think that’s a good goal.

Then there’s Pop Music — which is related in some ways, but which is, for me (as with most people) mainly a catalyst for emotion, nostalgia, inspiration, socialisation, etc. This is why I have often written of it: It moves me. And it opens doors.

Anyway, they’re all pieces of the same puzzle.

As for feeling “passionate” — I don’t really enjoy that. Passion = Suffering. We all suffer enough. Mainly, I have found Passionate People to be Stupid People compensating (usually overcompensating). No thanks. Keep it real, yo.

Bonne chance to you and your band. Happy to help.
-
Meanwhile, in the swirling vortex that has been my existence, I have figured out how to look at a week. I know, I know, we’re supposed to line up for soul-slaughtering jobs and work ourselves into mental, physical and spiritual disintegration because “that’s what everybody else is doing.” But I hate that. Why do that? That’s stupid!

Europeans fucking smoke too much, but they do have a clue when it comes to the week: They start it on Monday. I’m going to continue to do them one better. As of this writing, the week hasn’t really started yet.

I declare that The Week now officially begins on Tuesday.

FUCK Monday.

(Literally…if you can!)

And if you can draw The Week to a close on, say, Thursday, all the better.

Here’s wishing you well.

Song of the Week Not Yet Begun: “Short People” by Randy Newman.

Permalink Comments