I gave Tumblr a shot. It just didn’t live up to the hype.
As of today, Eden 2.0 is no more. I’m merging my blog with Mount Helicon on Blogger, where I’ve been posting excerpts from my fiction. I won’t complain about Tumblr on a Tumblr blog, but I list my reasons on Mount Helicon.
Goodbye, Tumblr. My new blog is here.
I’m back from a yuletide hiatus with an amazing trailer for 9, a computer-generated film that opens September 9th (9-9-09). Tim Burton produces this post-apocalyptic tale about sapient rag dolls who struggle to protect the legacy of humanity. Whatever that means. I just think it looks cool. Voice talents include Elijah Wood, John C. Reilly, Jennifer Connelly, Martin Landau, Crispin Glover, and Christopher Plummer.
This YouTube trailer doesn’t do the visuals justice, so if you’ve got Quicktime I suggest you watch it here instead.
Mars and Europa get all the media coverage, but now NASA says there’s probably an ocean beneath the ice of Enceladus, an awkward little moon of Saturn about the size of the UK.
Maybe Earth ain’t so special. This is big news for astrobiologists seeking to prove that life-sustaining conditions are fairly common throughout the universe. We’ve already detected evidence of water molecules on Mars, and everyone pretty much agrees there’s an ocean beneath the ice of Jupiter’s moon, Europa (Kubrick and Clarke included), but now we’ve got a third possibility, all in the same solar system no less.
I’m hoping there are telepathic whales swimming around out there.
2007 was the Year of the Threequel. 2008? Probably the Year of the Credible Superhero Movie, what with The Dark Knight and Iron Man pleasing critics and box office crunchers alike (though I was disappointed with the latter after all the hype). Here are my picks for the best ten movies of 2008, in no particular order, including a few you probably missed. (However, it is only mid-December, and I have yet to see the end-of-the-year Oscar bait, so these picks might change come New Year’s).
The Dark Knight
Let’s get it out of the way, shall we? We’re all sick of hearing about Bats, so I don’t need to say much, but this was one entertaining two-and-a-half hours. I like my vigilantes soaked in realism and moral ambiguity, thank you. Could’ve shaved it down to two hours, though.
Burn After Reading
The Coens managed to combine their gritty drama tendencies (No Country For Old Men) with their slapstick comedy chops (O Brother Where Art Thou) in this sharp, farcical flick that will make you wince and giggle. When ordinary idiots get mixed up in international espionage, there are fatal—and funny—consequences. Also, I will watch Pitt and Clooney in just about anything.
Wall-E
Pixar peaks. I’ve loved everything they’ve churned out except for Cars, but this is the best animated film I’ve ever seen, computer-animated or not. Who needs dialogue? There are some genuinely tender moments in between laughs, and the visuals sparkle. The none-too-subtle environmental message does get heavy-handed in the third act; we should all be green by now anyway. Right?
The Visitor
Inspiring, forlorn, hopeful, bleak; this human drama runs the gamut. A grief-stricken economics professor befriends a couple of illegal immigrants and learns to live again. The performances are top-notch, every one of them, most notably by the beautiful, expressive Hiam Abbass. Find this one on DVD, ASAP, OE (or else).
Forgetting Sarah Marshall
The Apatow gang is hit-or-miss with me, but this exercise in drollery had me on the sticky floor of the theater. TV’s Jason Segel breaks out as a bonafide movie star, Russell Brand is deliciously over the top, while Mila Kunis and Kristen Bell shine, and I don’t just mean physically. It would’ve been easy to paint them into corners of characterization (the mean one vs. the sweet one), but Segel (who also wrote the screenplay) avoids girlfriend archetypes. The vampire-themed puppet musical alone is worth the price of admission.
Redbelt
David Mamet’s back in the director’s chair. Too bad this urban take on classic Samurai films was poorly marketed, because Chiwetel Ejiofor gives the performance of his life as an honest man—a jujitsu instructor—unwittingly caught in the entertainment industry’s web of corruption. Mamet’s dialogue pops per usual, while Emily Mortimer turns in another stellar exhibition after last year’s Lars and the Real Girl. Do yourself a favor and rent this.
Tropic Thunder
Pure Hollywood farce. Not as funny as Forgetting, but still worth your time. The ensemble cast is a blast to watch, and the metafictional asides (fake movie trailers, news reports, etc) are a clever spin on our media-drenched bigger-is-better pop culture. Robert Downey, Jr. is especially good; I only wish Owen Wilson had been able to film his scenes.
Horton Hears A Who!
It’s no Wall-E, but Steve Carrell, Jim Carrey, and Dr. Seuss are a great combination. Colorful, silly, and delightfully camp, Horton is leagues ahead of the trite Kung Fu Panda, as Blue Sky Studios (Ice Age) continues to be the second-best cgi studio in the business behind Pixar.
Hellboy II: The Golden Army
I know, I know: the first film was pretty bad. Were it not for Pan’s Labyrinth, I wouldn’t have given Guillermo del Toro a second chance, but he proves himself worthy again in this beautiful, wonderful romp through myth and fantasy. Hellboy’s world is full of monsters, action, some great character actors, and the show-stealing Selma Blair. This film was a welcome surprise in a summer full of blockbuster let-downs.
Vicky Christina Barcelona
Woody Allen is back on track after a few flops in the big chair with this escapist yarn set in the sun-drenched hills of the Mediterranean, calling to mind the Spaniards Almodovar and Cuaron. It’s an engrossing little drama about transience, happiness, sensuality, and beauty. Bardem, Johansson, and Cruz all glow and drip with allure, while newcomer Rebecca Hall impresses enough to garner a Golden Globe nom. This is one of the most attractive films in years, in every sense of the word. You will ache for a flight to Europe and a sultry summer love affair.
Worst Movie of 2008: The Happening
Shyamalan continues his downward spiral. Worst title, worst performances, worst dialogue, worst everything. This one is nauseatingly bad. There were at least a few bright spots in Lady in the Water (like Bryce Dallas Howard), but nothing to like here other than watching Zooey Deschannel look pretty. This is also the Most Unintentionally Funny Movie of the Year.
I’m not sure what’s “happening” to Shyamalan. Has his ego driven him mad? Is he so afraid of criticism, he’s locked himself away to write in a closet? Reportedly, every major studio initially passed on this screenplay, but he refused to take a hint. Listen to other people, Shammy. Write more than just a first draft next time.
Still to come: Best Books of 2008.
A family in Malaysia returned from a vacation to find a stranger in their home, severely fatigued and dehydrated. Obviously, they asked him what he was doing there. The burglar said he broke in three days earlier to steal valuables, but that a “supernatural figure” stopped him and held him captive without food or water. Every time he tried to escape the house, the “figure” shoved him to the ground.
Creepy.
Meanwhile…
Made the 12-hour drive from Chicago to Hayesville over the weekend for a yuletide hiatus at home with the family. The Tail of the Dragon was an especially fun stretch of mountain highway that climbs over and around the Smokies with over 318 curves (some with names like Copperhead Corner and Gravity Cavity).
In the first of three articles on annual superlatives, here are my top ten albums of the year. I was surprised by my own choices: three of them are hip-hop (maybe four, depending on your definition). But this was a landmark year for the genre; “gangsta” rap is being slowly out-phased and replaced by more intelligent, emotive artists.
I like to think of myself as an eclectic listener, but the majority of my favorites this year are radio-prone. Here they are, in no particular order:
NERD - Seeing Sounds
NERD (No-one Ever Really Dies) defies categorization. My best approximation is “experimental funk rock with a dose of hip-hop,” but you’ve got to hear them for yourself. Band member Pharrell Williams, who made his name writing and producing for rappers like Ludacris, says this album was inspired by synesthesia (so I’m biased), and it shows. Each track is a barrage of sensory stimulation.
Best Tracks: “Spaz” and “Everyone Nose”.
Flight of the Conchords (self-titled)
Everyone’s favorite kiwis are back with a new studio album. There isn’t much new material here, but fans of the TV series will recognize their favorites. Brett and Jemaine, “formerly New Zealand’s fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-rap-funk-comedy folk duo,” are funny when it comes to lyrics (most of which parody genres), but serious when it comes to music. You’ll laugh at their jokes the first few times through a track, but soon you’ll just love the songs themselves.
Best Tracks: “Ladies of the World,” “Leggy Blonde,” and “Robots”.
John Legend - Evolver
If you can look past the annoying collaboration with Outkast’s Andre 3000, “Green Light,” (which was unfortunately the first single released), Mr. Piano-Tickler put together a nice, progressive record that fuses his cool croons with syncopated thumps. Kanye, Brandy, and Estelle also make appearances on three of the best tunes. “If You’re Out There” has become Obama’s anthem for change, going so far as to offer it as a free download on his website.
Best Tracks: “Quickly,” “It’s Over,” “No Other Love”.
Coldplay - Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends
I thought I was sick of Coldplay, but this is a solid record. The lyrics are a bit morbid (most deal with death), but there is a beautiful, melancholic soundscape throughout. Coldplay had become its own genre over the last few albums, but they break all of those rules here. Chris Martin flexes his storytelling muscles on a few tracks, and some of these are destined to be featured in romantic movie soundtracks. I know the band has become the butt of a lot of jokes, but this is undoubtedly good music.
Best Tracks: “Viva la Vida,” “Lost,” “42,” and “Strawberry Swing”.
Ne-Yo - Year of the Gentleman
Ne-Yo is classy. I like his modern take on Rat-Pack style in these songs, though he’s more chivalrous and respectful of women than Sinatra and his crew ever were in the 50’s. Ne-Yo’s voice is smoother than ice and the syncopated beats will get your head boppin’. In an industry full of egomaniacs and players, Ne-Yo actually seems like he’d be a cool guy to hang out with. And he knows how to treat a lady, if his lyrics are to be believed.
Best Tracks: “Miss Independent,” “Nobody,” and “So You Can Cry”.
Tina Dico - Count To Ten
You’ve probably never heard of her. She’s Danish. But this might be my favorite album of the year. She’s sort of a mix between Bob Dylan (but with a voice), KT Tunstall (without the glamor), and Jewel (back when Jewel was good). The title track is absolutely haunting, the stuff of dreams. This girl can write a song. She’s pretty big in Europe but hasn’t gained much traction across the pond. Yet.
Best Tracks: “Count To Ten,” “Sacre Coeur,” “My Business,” “Everybody Knows”.
Akon - Freedom
I’m a late-comer to the Akon bandwagon. I thought Konvicted was whiny and juvenile, but Akon seems to have matured since then, and it shows. His voice is still pure sinus cavity, but it’s growing on me, and it fits with the synth strings and auto-tune refrains on this disc. Like many hip-hop artists this year, some of them on this list, Akon seems to have grown up and learned that there’s more to life than clubs and hoochies.
Best Tracks: “Beautiful,” “Keep You Much Longer,” and “Holla Holla”.
Girl Talk - Feed the Animals
Greg Gillis is the king of the mashup. So of course he’s in a lot of copywright trouble. But it’s amazing when you can combine Rage Against the Machine, T.I., and Sinead O’Conner into one song.
Feed the Animals is a ridiculously fun DJ mix of all your favorite (and least favorite) radio hits that spans decades. Put this on during a party and watch the heads roll.
Best Tracks: “Play Your Part,” “Still Here,” “Set It Off”.
Kanye West - 808s and Heartbreak
Honestly, who saw this coming? The new king of rap, who just a few years ago made a complete fool of himself, suddenly grew up and releases an album full of poignant, afro-techno ballads on life and love? And he doesn’t even rap much, he sings. The album is slow-paced, and it took me a few listens to appreciate (it sounds like music from a desolate, post-apocalyptic future at first), but I’m now of the opinion that this is brilliant and years ahead of its time. You go, Kanye.
Best Tracks: “Welcome to Heartbreak,” “Love Lockdown,” “Robocop,” “Coldest Winter”.
Rodrigo y Gabriela - Live in Japan
Spanish guitar at its pinnacle. This couple has the fastest fingers on earth, and they know how to get your heart pounding. Latin arpeggios, pounding cadences, and solos at the speed of light. They even cover Metallica and Led Zeppelin while they’re at it.
Best Tracks: “Diablo Rojo,” Juan Loco,” and “Tamacun”.
Up next, my favorite books and movies of 2008.
If you’ve seen his other movies (Romeo + Juliet, Moulin Rouge!), you know that Baz Luhrmann is a master stylist. Function follows form for the Australian director, and despite any qualms you may have with his storytelling, your eyes, at least, will never get bored during his films. Australia is no exception, as it is hands-down the most beautiful movie of the year (though The Curious Case of Benjamin Button may steal that prize in a couple weeks). But will you enjoy the story? I did. For the most part.
Australia is a sweeping romantic epic in the vein of Gone With the Wind (war, love, racism, etc.), Luhrmann’s self-admitted attempt at “mythologizing” his home country. Its characters and settings are highly romanticized and exaggerated for effect, and its tensions border on the melodramatic. But it’s fun.
A pompous English aristocrat, Lady Ashley (Nichole Kidman) inherits a derelict cattle station in the Outback, where she meets the Drover (Hugh Jackman), a rugged wrangler who helps defend her land from the film’s villain. But the real star is 12-year-old actor Brandon Walters, who plays a young Aboriginal boy torn between cultures, the emotional center of the story as well as its narrator.
Kidman is easy to adore here; it’s fun to watch her transition from a stiff, proper Brit to a resourceful ranch-runner. Jackman is a monolith of manliness. Those Wolverine workouts have really paid off, and ‘boy knows how to rock a beard. Here, he calls to mind Western legends like Wayne and Eastwood. Kidman and Jackman have a tangible chemistry that burns through the celluloid just as fiercely as the landscapes they occupy.
Unfortunately, Australia doesn’t know when to quit. This is the second movie in 2008 that feels like watching a film and its own sequel in one sitting (the other was The Dark Knight). Both stories have pseudo-conclusions midway through their 150-minute running times, and you will likely find yourself thinking Australia is over long before the credits roll (unless you know the running time, which now of course you do).
Finally, Luhrmann’s tone, usually one of his strengths, is inconsistent and muddling here. The temporal conundrums of Romeo + Juliet, as well as the bombastic Moulin Rouge!, were perfect subject matter for his flare. But Australia asks you to take it seriously most of the time, and will then suddenly break out of character. A friend of mine wasn’t sure whether one scene was meant to be funny or tragic. Luhrmann’s handling of Aboriginal mysticism is also confusing; at times, I wasn’t sure how literally to take things like invisibility. And for a movie with such a blunt look at racism, it was unfortunate to see a stereotypical comic-relief Asian character who seemed to have wandered onto the set from a Kevin Smith movie.
Conclusion: Yes, it’s too long. Yes, it requires too much suspension of disbelief. But Australia is exactly what Luhrmann intended: a larger-than-life tale of adventure, betrayal, magic, heartbreak, and reconciliation that will leaving you aching for an adventure of your own.
Rating: 8 (out of 10)
P.S. Did you know that the longest film ever made clocks in at 95 hours?
I’m not sure why (or if) this matters, but Gentlemen’s Quarterly just named Chicago its “city of the year.” Here are our four main selling points, apparently:
1. Politics
Seems a strange category to me, but understandable given Obama’s victory. However, GQ mainly praises…wait for it…Richard M. Daley (aka Da Mare and Hizzonor). Apparently no one told them about Chicago’s budget crisis, or the mayor’s blatant corruption.
2. Film
This one makes sense. Last year alone, Chicago was home to The Dark Knight, Wanted, Eagle Eye, and Traitor, to name a few. Next year, we’ve got The Time Traveler’s Wife (please don’t mess this up) and Public Enemies, among others. And if The Samaritan ever gets greenlit, by golly I’m shooting it in the Windy City.
3. Architecture
Historically, I understand this, but right now? This year? I mean, there’s the new Trump building, but that’s about it. GQ mentions the Spire, which certainly looks wicked, but won’t be up until 2012 at the earliest, and construction’s been halted due to a lack of investors.
4. Literature
Nice, since that’s really what I came to Chicago for. Highlights this year include Hemon’s The Lazarus Project (I’ll hopefully get to see him in a couple months), Meno’s Demons in the Spring, and a local lit mag called Stop Smiling. I’d like to add a few to the list: Scott Blackwood’s upcoming We Agreed To Meet Just Here, Jessa Crispin’s Bookslut Blog, and the AWP conference that rolls into town February 12th (you’ll have to pardon their hideous website).
Finally, for those of you keeping score at home, Chicago was also Fast Company’s city of the year back in June (for completely different reasons). Beat that, Atlanta.
“You’re alive, Bod. That means you have infinite potential.You can do anything, make anything, dream anything. If you change the world, the world will change. Potential. Once you’re dead, it’s gone. Over.”
That’s the wisdom of Silas, the dark man on the left, surrogate caretaker to the young boy next to him, Nobody Owens, in Neil Gaiman’s new atmospheric yarn.
Take Rudyard Kipling’s classic Jungle Book stories, and replace the jungle with a misty English cemetery. In essence, this is the concept behind Neil Gaiman’s latest, The Graveyard Book, a young-adult “novel-in-stories” that mostly succeeds as a supernatural, macabre coming-of-age tale in the vein of Gaiman’s classic Coraline. Graveyard is not Gaiman at his best, but it is Gaiman nonetheless, and it sure beats that god-awful InterWorld mess that he “co-authored” a couple years ago with a hack.
An infant’s family is murdered by a mysterious figure, but the baby manages to escape by wandering across the street to the eponymous graveyard. The newly-formed ghosts of his parents beg the inhabitants of the graveyard to watch and protect their son. Mr. and Mrs. Owens, dead for a century or more, agree. A community of ghosts, ranging from murdered Roman politicians to convicted witches, decides to raise the child and christens him Nobody, since “he looks like nobody but himself.” To borrow another line from Silas, “it takes a graveyard to raise a child.”
Each chapter is meant to stand alone as a short story, following Nobody Owens—Bod for short—on journeys where he inevitably gets into trouble and encounters characters from the established mythology of Horror, each with a Gaiman-esque twist. My favorite character is Bod’s guardian (his Bagheera?), the tight-lipped, stoic Silas, whose implicit nature I won’t reveal here. One of the book’s early joys is trying to figure him out from Gaiman’s hints.
Some chapters work better than others. Specifically, The Hounds of God, which takes Bod to a ghoulish netherworld, felt out of place and tangential. The chapter-as-story model works modestly well, but only when there is a narrative arc to tie them together. I found the completely “stand-alone” chapters a little hard to get through.
Unfortunately, Bod isn’t quite as compelling as Gaiman’s other young-adult hero, Coraline. Where Bod uses tricks and powers gained from his ghostly upbringing, Coraline’s intelligence and bravery were more fun to read. And the archetypal Other Mother was a more frightening, fulfilling villain than Graveyard’s lifeless, professional Jack, whose muddled motives are only revealed in the final chapter in a “Wait…really? That’s it?” moment.
Stylistically, Gaimain is a little off the mark here as well. He’s usually fluid and articulate, but Graveyard is full of awkward phrasing and stilted language during action sequences. I almost wondered if Gaiman rushed this one to print.
But there are characters and moments that shine. The Lady in Grey, Gaiman’s angel of death, will take your breath away, and the guardian Silas’ every appearance made me giddy. The Danse Macabre passage is hauntingly, lyrically beautiful as the living commune with the dead. There is an ancient subterranean tomb filled with pagan, pre-Celtic treasure and horror that is one of the book’s best mysteries. Throughout, the atmosphere drips with Gaiman’s special brand of darkness and wit.
Conclusion: I would’ve loved Graveyard when I was 9-12 years old. Gaiman creates a fascinating, creepy world that kept me coming back for more. But as an adult reader, the narrative falls short. My appetites as a reader simply weren’t fulfilled in the end (sequel?). Still, Gaiman is Gaiman, and The Graveyard Book is a fun way to spend a dark, chilly night. Pick this up a week before Halloween and read a chapter a night! And then watch A Nightmare Before Christmas to top it off.
(I used the UK cover above, which is infinitely better than the American one.)
I am not a Bond fan. Well, not since grade school, at least. Perhaps that’s because I came of age during the Brosnan Era. His four entries into the Bond canon were silly, insipid, and misogynistic; when Daniel Craig was named his successor, I could have cared less. A tuxedoed man who runs around killing extras, sleeping with anonymous women, and defeating caricaturized villains bores me to death.
I caught Casino Royale on DVD, with obviously low expectations, and was pleasantly surprised by the depth Daniel Craig brought to the role; the intelligence and grace of Eva Green, who wasn’t just another expendable Bond girl; the grittiness and realism that Paul Haggis brought to the script. Casino Royale did for Bond what Batman Begins did for the superhero, what The Bourne Identity did for the espionage thriller. It modernized, hardened, and rebooted the genre for a more cynical, intelligent audience.
Unfortunately, Casino Royale was undone by its tedious running time. Not so for Quantum, which clocks in at just over 100 minutes, the perfect length for a movie, in my opinion (I’m looking in your direction, Peter).
Craig is a wonder to behold here. His looks, lines, and hits are sharper than broken glass. You trust Bond’s competence, believe in his physical abilities and mental resourcefulness, and at the same time you see a glimpse of vulnerability in the way he hunches his shoulders, in his silences. Just with a look, Craig is capable of conveying grief, anger, resolve, intelligence, and a sprig of British wit.
The great thing about the new Bond is the continuity between films. That being said, the plot of Quantum is virtually impossible to follow if you haven’t seen Casino Royale (a quick refresher during the credits would have been nice, or at least more useful than the usual Bond special-effects Laser and Babe Show), but Quantum is in essence a revenge film. Bond goes after the mysterious, powerful organization responsible for the death of his true love (Yes, this Bond feels!), Vesper Lynd. What he uncovers is a conveniently topical plan to use environmental conservation as a cover for the trafficking of natural resources, in this case Bolivia’s water supply. The spy trail leads Bond through Italy, Haiti, and South America, in some brilliantly-shot locales.
Marc Foster’s direction is almost flawless; the settings pulse with atmosphere, the scenes with tension. His only problem? The action. It looks like the producers told him to “do the Bourne thing and shake the camera around.” The editing alone makes the action impossible to follow. There are a couple nice exceptions, but the big four action sequences (which the screenwriters based on the elements earth, water, air, and fire, in that order) are pure noise.
The other problem is the lack of a compelling supporting cast. Craig is cinematic gold, and Judi Dench finally makes M a believable, likeable character, but the rest of the characters are props. The Bond girl, Camille, while genuinely beautiful and wonderfully tough, is ultimately forgettable and one-dimensional. I just never believed she’d ever been in the Bolivian secret service, or cared about her stock sob story. Ditto for the villain, Dominic Greene, a greedy corporate type who exploits the instability of third-world government. He’s a disposable creep with an accent, nothing more.
Now that we’ve got a brilliant Bond, and some talented writers and directors, let’s give him a few people to interact with. Characters instead of plot devices. Actors instead of models. Jeffrey Wright makes another delightful appearance here as CIA agent Felix Lieter, but only for a few scenes. Use him next time! And let’s get a three-dimensional villain and heroine while we’re at it.
Conclusion: Craig is a perfect Bond, but this is not a perfect Bond movie. You’ll be entertained, though, by the exotic settings, the chases and shootings, the dashes of humor, and the sheer magnetism of Daniel Craig.
Rating: 7 (out of 10)
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