I’m about talk on an issue I know nothing about: nuclear disarmament. I have no idea what the pros and cons are. I have no idea what reasons there are for disarming or not disarming. I’m going to go with my gut.
If you’ve been watching the news, you know President Obama has just had a nuclear summit. At the summit, he called for all the nuclear powers to reduce the amount of nuclear weapons they have: including us. We’re supposed to reduce our nuclear arsenal by 2/3, or something like that. I suppose the reasoning is that we are to lead by example, which is just another way America manifests its hubris. Why doesn’t that show other countries that we look down our noses on them? Only this time, we have reduced our defense.
It’s scary to look at the slippery slope. Of course, we all want a world with no nukes. But there are countries who want nukes in order to detonate them. Some countries have as a logo on their flag an image of a mushroom cloud. If these countries get nukes, they plan to use them. Logically, we’d want to keep them from getting nukes; or, if they did get them, deter them from using them somehow.
This whole pipe-dream of complete nuclear disarmament will leave the cooperating countries in a scary place. It’s the issue of gun-control all over again. If you outlaw guns, only the outlaws have guns; if you outlaw nuclear weapons internationally, then only the international outlaws have nuclear weapons. And when we law abiding countries are stripped naked of any kind of nuclear defense, there’s no stopping the international outlaws from blowing us to smithereens.
Even if we’re going to lead by example (supposedly), do you really think other countries will find this admirable, fall head over heels, and have a life-changing experience to follow suit? Is this the real world we live in? I think of Iran or North Korea or Cuba or even Russia, China, or even minor terrorist groups. If they banded together, or even if one country got one nuclear weapon (especially Iran), we’d be in hot water. Sure, we still have a nuclear arsenal to tap into. But down the road, if Obama gets the countries of the West to completely denude themselves of any nuclear defense, there’s literally nothing - but our good faith and trust in otherwise untrustworthy nations - to prevent possible nuclear holocaust.
I was just randomly thinking about that and I’d love to hear anyone’s thoughts on it.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
Who are your favorite movie villains?
Undoubtedly, a key ingredient to any great movie is a great villain. You could even say this about any story in general; or, if villain is too strong a word, try antagonist. There is no Othello without Iago, no Jean Valjean without Javert, no Captain Ahab without Moby Dick. In the movie world, though, the pressure is mounted a little more. We have to see them, they have to look a certain way, talk a certain way. They have to be truly evil, cunning, ruthless, distinct, and have their own diabolical attitude.
The first time I paid attention to the art of the villain was when I saw Hans Gruber, played brilliantly by Alan Rickman in Die Hard (1988). He was suave, sophisticated, and cultured. He quotes Alexander the Great with ease and rhythm: “Benefits of a classical education”, he says smugly. He reminisces how as a boy he loved to build toy models because of his love for detail. He is up to date on the latest fashion, boasting of his John Phillips suit. I can’t remember a villain with a more laid back air about him and at the same having cultivated sensibilities.
Gruber was a great villain because of a worry we all have. I think of the Germans in World War 2: how they thought that a good education would solve nearly all of society’s ills. But come to find out, a good education just better educates us on how to kill more people more creatively. Gruber is the educated sophisticate, proof that intellectual cultivation does nil to make one a person of virtue.
How can evil coexist with smarts? The villain that perfected this mix was Hannibal Lector, the brilliant psychologist who happens to have a taste for human flesh. But aside from the visceral response we feel to cannibalism generally, we feel a horror that such bestial behavior could be coupled with an elite mind of genius. I remember feeling aghast when his mood would switch without warning: one minute he is enamored by Mozart and the next he is biting someone in the jugular.
And while we’re in this category, it’s hard to forget John Doe, from Se7en (1995). What particularly struck me was the discovery of his private journals. They were voluminous! The scene where Morgan Freeman’s character reads a sentence or two, chronicling the normal sociopathic response to normal everyday situations: how he barfed all over a man because he was sickened by his banalities - and how he couldn’t stop laughing.
I think of Colonel Walter E. Kurtz in Apocalypse Now (1979). It seemed he started out sane. But after a while, seeing all the horrors of war, he turned into something that is hard to categorize. A part of you wants to say he lost his sanity, but that seems too simple. Another part wants to say he began to see things the way they really are. He peered into the abyss until the abyss peered right back, as Nietzsche would say. Here Colonel Kurtz is, alone at some godforsaken outpost, worshiped as a god by the natives, fully embedded in the ‘Heart of Darkness’ itself. It’s too late when Captain Benjamin L. Willard comes to the rescue. The ensuing monologue from Kurtz to Willard is one of the high points of American cinema. Two T.S. Elliot poems are read: The Wasteland and From Romance to the Grave. Kurtz himself reads from Hallow Men. It’s not what is said so much as how it’s said. The horror of war really shines through Kurtz’s raw voice. It’s a hallow voice, hallowed out by the atrocities of war he’s witnessed.
Another antagonist with an intellect, but which is no help against falling prey to evil. Now these are the villains that appeal to me the most. Daniel Plainview could fall into this category. The other type could be called the weasels. I’m thinking of that despicable guy in The Green Mile (1999). Then there are the mindless monsters like Alien (1979) or Predator (1987); or you have the villains who start off creepy, but their sense of humor eventually just makes them a caricature of themselves, like Freddy or Chucky. The mindless juggernauts like Jason or Michael Myers are particularly unnerving. You wonder why they never talk. Have they been through something so bad they’ve lost the will? Does complete evil remain silent? Is it that silence keeps you guessing about how evil they are, so they keep quiet?
As a kid, I remember watching Misery (1990) for the first time. I always tell people that this was the first movie I ever covered my eyes to. Years later, I can watch it all the way through, and I’ve grown to see it for the dark comedy it is. But there is no denying that Annie Wilkes is an eerie personality. The scary thing is that you always wonder if there’s really people out there like that. I take that back. We do know that there are people out there like that. People just define their identities by celebrities and if the scenario in Misery played out in real life, you’d almost be surprised not to see it recur. She is a child in a lot of ways and her hissy fits are tinged with spookiness because they go with a dominant personality that just so happens to have complete control over your movement. She is lonely and drifts in and out of depression. The hobbling scene is a doozy. The one flaw in the movie is the end: the mystique is gone and she turns into a cliche’d axe murderer. When I saw the trailer for the first time, the oddest thing for me was the scene when she oinks like a pig. There's a great ‘less is more’ foreshadowing here. We’re thinking, ‘Who is this screwball lady?’
I’m leaving out so many. But we can all agree that when you got a good villain, it’s almost certain you got a good movie.
The first time I paid attention to the art of the villain was when I saw Hans Gruber, played brilliantly by Alan Rickman in Die Hard (1988). He was suave, sophisticated, and cultured. He quotes Alexander the Great with ease and rhythm: “Benefits of a classical education”, he says smugly. He reminisces how as a boy he loved to build toy models because of his love for detail. He is up to date on the latest fashion, boasting of his John Phillips suit. I can’t remember a villain with a more laid back air about him and at the same having cultivated sensibilities.
Gruber was a great villain because of a worry we all have. I think of the Germans in World War 2: how they thought that a good education would solve nearly all of society’s ills. But come to find out, a good education just better educates us on how to kill more people more creatively. Gruber is the educated sophisticate, proof that intellectual cultivation does nil to make one a person of virtue.
How can evil coexist with smarts? The villain that perfected this mix was Hannibal Lector, the brilliant psychologist who happens to have a taste for human flesh. But aside from the visceral response we feel to cannibalism generally, we feel a horror that such bestial behavior could be coupled with an elite mind of genius. I remember feeling aghast when his mood would switch without warning: one minute he is enamored by Mozart and the next he is biting someone in the jugular.
And while we’re in this category, it’s hard to forget John Doe, from Se7en (1995). What particularly struck me was the discovery of his private journals. They were voluminous! The scene where Morgan Freeman’s character reads a sentence or two, chronicling the normal sociopathic response to normal everyday situations: how he barfed all over a man because he was sickened by his banalities - and how he couldn’t stop laughing.
I think of Colonel Walter E. Kurtz in Apocalypse Now (1979). It seemed he started out sane. But after a while, seeing all the horrors of war, he turned into something that is hard to categorize. A part of you wants to say he lost his sanity, but that seems too simple. Another part wants to say he began to see things the way they really are. He peered into the abyss until the abyss peered right back, as Nietzsche would say. Here Colonel Kurtz is, alone at some godforsaken outpost, worshiped as a god by the natives, fully embedded in the ‘Heart of Darkness’ itself. It’s too late when Captain Benjamin L. Willard comes to the rescue. The ensuing monologue from Kurtz to Willard is one of the high points of American cinema. Two T.S. Elliot poems are read: The Wasteland and From Romance to the Grave. Kurtz himself reads from Hallow Men. It’s not what is said so much as how it’s said. The horror of war really shines through Kurtz’s raw voice. It’s a hallow voice, hallowed out by the atrocities of war he’s witnessed.
Another antagonist with an intellect, but which is no help against falling prey to evil. Now these are the villains that appeal to me the most. Daniel Plainview could fall into this category. The other type could be called the weasels. I’m thinking of that despicable guy in The Green Mile (1999). Then there are the mindless monsters like Alien (1979) or Predator (1987); or you have the villains who start off creepy, but their sense of humor eventually just makes them a caricature of themselves, like Freddy or Chucky. The mindless juggernauts like Jason or Michael Myers are particularly unnerving. You wonder why they never talk. Have they been through something so bad they’ve lost the will? Does complete evil remain silent? Is it that silence keeps you guessing about how evil they are, so they keep quiet?
As a kid, I remember watching Misery (1990) for the first time. I always tell people that this was the first movie I ever covered my eyes to. Years later, I can watch it all the way through, and I’ve grown to see it for the dark comedy it is. But there is no denying that Annie Wilkes is an eerie personality. The scary thing is that you always wonder if there’s really people out there like that. I take that back. We do know that there are people out there like that. People just define their identities by celebrities and if the scenario in Misery played out in real life, you’d almost be surprised not to see it recur. She is a child in a lot of ways and her hissy fits are tinged with spookiness because they go with a dominant personality that just so happens to have complete control over your movement. She is lonely and drifts in and out of depression. The hobbling scene is a doozy. The one flaw in the movie is the end: the mystique is gone and she turns into a cliche’d axe murderer. When I saw the trailer for the first time, the oddest thing for me was the scene when she oinks like a pig. There's a great ‘less is more’ foreshadowing here. We’re thinking, ‘Who is this screwball lady?’
I’m leaving out so many. But we can all agree that when you got a good villain, it’s almost certain you got a good movie.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Pearl Jam: how I came to love the album Ten
I have heard Pearl Jam throughout my life. I remember listening to Last Kiss (1999) in my beat-up Nissan Stanza when it first came out. I can even vaguely remember listening to the riff from Alive at a Little League baseball game. But I never had the album. It was 2003. I had a thing for guitar solos. I was still in that phase of my life where I thought Slash was a god. But it was starting to rub off and it seemed like the only band that fit the bill for me was Guns N’ Roses (circa late 80's).
So there I was in a CD store when a friend of mine told me to place ‘Ten’ under the censor that allowed you to sample 30 second sections from songs for the album. I do remember hearing guitar solos: lots of guitar solos. Based on that pretty simple reason, I bought it.
Strangely enough, I wasn’t blown away. I’ve seen that in a lot of people who hear Pearl Jam the first time. Don’t get me wrong. I did like them very much. But this type of music was a symbol - for me - that was like a death-knell for the kind of music I liked. So, I had an antipathy toward it. It was too modern. My kind of music was classic rock stuff; not this modern, mainstream rock that slowly killed my beloved guitar solo. And yet, Pearl Jam was one of the bands that nurtured it, so for that reason, it did its rounds in my CD player.
Then I did something that I probably should have done a long time ago. I listened to the lyrics. I read them. I found myself listening to a storyteller. The songs themselves are very powerful.
‘Once’ is a raging anthem about a guy who goes crazy and kills everybody because he hates himself and doesn’t know who he is anymore. ‘Even Flow’ is about a homeless man who has no hope at escaping his abject poverty. ‘Alive’ is the haunting (somewhat autobiographical) story about a tender kid finding out his father died, and how the mother makes sexual advances on him because she sees so much of her husband in the child: the ‘I’m still alive’ chorus is more of a regret than an affirmation.
‘Why Go’ is the story of a girl who wants to run away from home because her parents want her to be someone she’s not. ‘Black’ is the story a heartbreak, of lost love. ‘Jeremy’ is about a kid who is picked on and neglected by his parents only to end everything by suicide. ‘Oceans’ is a song about the longing to get away from the suffering in life.
‘Porch’ is another gut-wrenching song about lost love, as is ‘Garden’ And ‘Deep’ is about rape, while ‘Release’ is a beautiful cry for release from all the ills of the world to a father Eddie had never met.
It’s so hard to not hear the Vedder/Stapp comparison, which is one major reason I hate post-grunge. Even so, I get over this by looking at 1991 in perspective, a real hotbed for real, authentic music: Blood, Sugar Magik, The Black Album, Use Your Illusion, Badmotorfinger, Nevermind, Ten, Achtung Baby, Out of Time.
Ten is a solid album. The band is at its least self-conscious. There’s no hint of their obnoxious politics. The music came first. I’ve found that the people who like this music the most have to feel or have felt social alienation. If you haven’t, it’d be like trying to recommend something like coffee or beer to someone who hasn’t yet acquired the taste. It’s something - like everything in music - you have to see from the inside first.
So there I was in a CD store when a friend of mine told me to place ‘Ten’ under the censor that allowed you to sample 30 second sections from songs for the album. I do remember hearing guitar solos: lots of guitar solos. Based on that pretty simple reason, I bought it.
Strangely enough, I wasn’t blown away. I’ve seen that in a lot of people who hear Pearl Jam the first time. Don’t get me wrong. I did like them very much. But this type of music was a symbol - for me - that was like a death-knell for the kind of music I liked. So, I had an antipathy toward it. It was too modern. My kind of music was classic rock stuff; not this modern, mainstream rock that slowly killed my beloved guitar solo. And yet, Pearl Jam was one of the bands that nurtured it, so for that reason, it did its rounds in my CD player.
Then I did something that I probably should have done a long time ago. I listened to the lyrics. I read them. I found myself listening to a storyteller. The songs themselves are very powerful.
‘Once’ is a raging anthem about a guy who goes crazy and kills everybody because he hates himself and doesn’t know who he is anymore. ‘Even Flow’ is about a homeless man who has no hope at escaping his abject poverty. ‘Alive’ is the haunting (somewhat autobiographical) story about a tender kid finding out his father died, and how the mother makes sexual advances on him because she sees so much of her husband in the child: the ‘I’m still alive’ chorus is more of a regret than an affirmation.
‘Why Go’ is the story of a girl who wants to run away from home because her parents want her to be someone she’s not. ‘Black’ is the story a heartbreak, of lost love. ‘Jeremy’ is about a kid who is picked on and neglected by his parents only to end everything by suicide. ‘Oceans’ is a song about the longing to get away from the suffering in life.
‘Porch’ is another gut-wrenching song about lost love, as is ‘Garden’ And ‘Deep’ is about rape, while ‘Release’ is a beautiful cry for release from all the ills of the world to a father Eddie had never met.
It’s so hard to not hear the Vedder/Stapp comparison, which is one major reason I hate post-grunge. Even so, I get over this by looking at 1991 in perspective, a real hotbed for real, authentic music: Blood, Sugar Magik, The Black Album, Use Your Illusion, Badmotorfinger, Nevermind, Ten, Achtung Baby, Out of Time.
Ten is a solid album. The band is at its least self-conscious. There’s no hint of their obnoxious politics. The music came first. I’ve found that the people who like this music the most have to feel or have felt social alienation. If you haven’t, it’d be like trying to recommend something like coffee or beer to someone who hasn’t yet acquired the taste. It’s something - like everything in music - you have to see from the inside first.
The Man Without A Face: a cautious recommendation . . .
For the longest time, I used to say that my favorite movie - for personal reasons (I always added) - was The Man Without A Face, starring and directed by Mel Gibson, his directorial debut. This has changed somewhat, but there’s no denying that parts of it still have an impact.
It’s sort of hard to show other people, because, while it has strong scenes, the overall feel of the movie has a kind of cheapness. There’s some editing and continuity problems I’ve noticed through the years, but nothing major. Some scenes I feel are overacted and sometimes the sappy melodrama is too much to handle.
But there is no denying that Mel Gibson’s character - Justin McLeod - has had and continues to have a big influence on my life. I can trace my love of poetry back to this very movie. I can even trace certain characteristics of my personality back to McLeod, and even back to some of the quirkiness of the kid, Charles Norstadt.
And there’s something about McLeod’s house. I know that’s strange to say, but all the scenes from within the house stir something in me that I can’t really put my finger on. You hear the cry of seagulls and the crashing waves from the lake outside.
The house is literally filled with interesting stuff. I’m assuming McLeod was into nautical themes, because the house is strewn with model ships, model ships in glass jars, maps (do they really lead to treasure?), a antique set of binoculars.
And there are books everywhere: books on the floor, books on the shelves along the walls, books in every room, old books, textbooks, books from every subject, antique books, the books we buy for the antique spine we’d show off to our friends.
He is an artist, he paints; we find out later he paints pictures that are put on the covers of magazines, and he even points out how a couple of his pictures were chosen to be on Time Magazine.
Before I get into more scenes, I guess I’ll tell you a little about the plot, which is so-so. The strength of the movie is the relationship that builds and grows between Mr. McLeod and Charles; but mainly for me, it is the commanding presence of McLeod.
Charles is part of a very dysfunctional family with two sisters, and all three of them have different fathers. Charles’ dad - unbeknownst to him - died in a mental institute and had severe drinking problems. Throughout the movie, he doesn’t really know, but makes up stories about how his dad was an expert pilot for a spy plane that was shot down in a blaze of glory.
Charles wants to follow in his lost dad’s footsteps, enter military school, and eventually be a pilot. One problem: he isn’t naturally gifted intellectually and lacks a teacher to coach him on how to do good on the entrance exams.
But Charles is an outcast, with a meddling little sister, and a sinister bigger sister, and a mother who means well, but is somewhat of a narcissist.
Enter McLeod, a retired teacher with a tortured past, a recluse with a strict schedule - you can time your watch with his trips to the grocery store. He has horrible scars from dreadful burns over half his body. We find out later it’s from a car crash - his fault - where a boy burned to death, one of his students, the reason why he’s given up teaching. There’s a ho-hum side story about a sexual abuse scandal surrounding his relationship with the boy, but I didn’t care much about it.
On one fateful night, Charles and McLeod meet, and the seeds are sown for a relationship after Charles asks for McLeod’s help and teaching for the entrance exams. After a rough beginning, the virtues of the movie start to shine!
Here are some of my favorite scenes.
1. The Aeneid: In a fit of loneliness, McLeod sits shiftless in his chair as soft opera plays in the background. The light is dim. He reads the opening lines of The Aeneid by Virgil. Arms, I sing! And the Man. Who burst forth from the shores of Troy. Much buffeted he on land and sea. Oh, to sate Juno’s unrelenting wrath! He holds a mirror up to his scarred face. For a brief moment, it looks like his face is normal, the mirror reflecting only the good part. As the opera gets louder, he moves the mirror over to reveal the scars and he is revolted as the opera ends.
2. Charles is reading poetry pretty badly. “It’s not a cereal box you’re reading”, says McLeod. Why can’t I read it silently?, asks Charles. Because it’s a play! You perform it! 'I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, A stage where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one (From The Merchant of Venice).' And then they start performing actual Shakespeare plays in McLeod’s living room.
3. There is a very sublime scene with Charles in his bathroom reading the poem High Flight, the most moving scene for me.
I cautiously recommend it. Like I said, I felt compelled to blog on it just because it’s meant so much to me. I’m not exactly sure why, though. I relate to McLeod’s reclusiveness, his love of books and poetry, and his love for teaching, and his scars have since become a symbol for my own past crap that’s happened to me. Charles has an innocence about him I used to relate to a lot better than I do now.
There’s a scene where’s he is making his way up to McLeod’s home, the camera is behind him, moving with him, the music by James Horner is brooding, filled with anticipation and sort of a fairy-tale aura. That whole scene has been a metaphor for so many things in my life I’ve felt a mysterious longing for.
It’s sort of hard to show other people, because, while it has strong scenes, the overall feel of the movie has a kind of cheapness. There’s some editing and continuity problems I’ve noticed through the years, but nothing major. Some scenes I feel are overacted and sometimes the sappy melodrama is too much to handle.
But there is no denying that Mel Gibson’s character - Justin McLeod - has had and continues to have a big influence on my life. I can trace my love of poetry back to this very movie. I can even trace certain characteristics of my personality back to McLeod, and even back to some of the quirkiness of the kid, Charles Norstadt.
And there’s something about McLeod’s house. I know that’s strange to say, but all the scenes from within the house stir something in me that I can’t really put my finger on. You hear the cry of seagulls and the crashing waves from the lake outside.
The house is literally filled with interesting stuff. I’m assuming McLeod was into nautical themes, because the house is strewn with model ships, model ships in glass jars, maps (do they really lead to treasure?), a antique set of binoculars.
And there are books everywhere: books on the floor, books on the shelves along the walls, books in every room, old books, textbooks, books from every subject, antique books, the books we buy for the antique spine we’d show off to our friends.
He is an artist, he paints; we find out later he paints pictures that are put on the covers of magazines, and he even points out how a couple of his pictures were chosen to be on Time Magazine.
Before I get into more scenes, I guess I’ll tell you a little about the plot, which is so-so. The strength of the movie is the relationship that builds and grows between Mr. McLeod and Charles; but mainly for me, it is the commanding presence of McLeod.
Charles is part of a very dysfunctional family with two sisters, and all three of them have different fathers. Charles’ dad - unbeknownst to him - died in a mental institute and had severe drinking problems. Throughout the movie, he doesn’t really know, but makes up stories about how his dad was an expert pilot for a spy plane that was shot down in a blaze of glory.
Charles wants to follow in his lost dad’s footsteps, enter military school, and eventually be a pilot. One problem: he isn’t naturally gifted intellectually and lacks a teacher to coach him on how to do good on the entrance exams.
But Charles is an outcast, with a meddling little sister, and a sinister bigger sister, and a mother who means well, but is somewhat of a narcissist.
Enter McLeod, a retired teacher with a tortured past, a recluse with a strict schedule - you can time your watch with his trips to the grocery store. He has horrible scars from dreadful burns over half his body. We find out later it’s from a car crash - his fault - where a boy burned to death, one of his students, the reason why he’s given up teaching. There’s a ho-hum side story about a sexual abuse scandal surrounding his relationship with the boy, but I didn’t care much about it.
On one fateful night, Charles and McLeod meet, and the seeds are sown for a relationship after Charles asks for McLeod’s help and teaching for the entrance exams. After a rough beginning, the virtues of the movie start to shine!
Here are some of my favorite scenes.
1. The Aeneid: In a fit of loneliness, McLeod sits shiftless in his chair as soft opera plays in the background. The light is dim. He reads the opening lines of The Aeneid by Virgil. Arms, I sing! And the Man. Who burst forth from the shores of Troy. Much buffeted he on land and sea. Oh, to sate Juno’s unrelenting wrath! He holds a mirror up to his scarred face. For a brief moment, it looks like his face is normal, the mirror reflecting only the good part. As the opera gets louder, he moves the mirror over to reveal the scars and he is revolted as the opera ends.
2. Charles is reading poetry pretty badly. “It’s not a cereal box you’re reading”, says McLeod. Why can’t I read it silently?, asks Charles. Because it’s a play! You perform it! 'I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, A stage where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one (From The Merchant of Venice).' And then they start performing actual Shakespeare plays in McLeod’s living room.
3. There is a very sublime scene with Charles in his bathroom reading the poem High Flight, the most moving scene for me.
I cautiously recommend it. Like I said, I felt compelled to blog on it just because it’s meant so much to me. I’m not exactly sure why, though. I relate to McLeod’s reclusiveness, his love of books and poetry, and his love for teaching, and his scars have since become a symbol for my own past crap that’s happened to me. Charles has an innocence about him I used to relate to a lot better than I do now.
There’s a scene where’s he is making his way up to McLeod’s home, the camera is behind him, moving with him, the music by James Horner is brooding, filled with anticipation and sort of a fairy-tale aura. That whole scene has been a metaphor for so many things in my life I’ve felt a mysterious longing for.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Jurassic 5 "Quality Control"
I have worn out Jurassic 5's "Quality Control". Figuratively of course, I don't have it on vinyl or compact disc so I mostly play it on my computer or ipod. So the "times played" on my itunes is pushing 50.
This album came out in 2000 and it is a sad reality that I missed it. 10 years later I discovered this album and I have been literally blown away. For a long time I have enjoyed hip hop. Since graduating from college I believe I could begin to refer to myself as a HipHopHead. Bands like Tribe Called Quest, De la Soul, MF Doom, DangerMouse, Goodie Mob, I could go on, get serious rotation in my car, home, life.
Jurassic 5 is on the most "must listen" lists but somehow I consistently missed them. I decided to suck it up and give them a try and boy am I glad I did.
On first listen the most obvious thing that stands out for the listener is their great use of group vocals. They sing/rap together, bleeding in and out of solo's. Next, their beats are stellar and for 2000, way ahead of their time. Severely jazz influenced but simple. Not overwhelming, but more than a simple snare and high hat.
Now, the things listed above are important. Without a beat, rap would really be fast talking and then any 12 year old girl would qualify. What sets this band apart is their incredibly intelligent lyrics. An example:
You baby MC's drink Pedialyte
My underground doesn't like you, the media might
But we the elite will change that
As we bridge gaps in this lyrical grudge match, brothers
we slug back
My underground doesn't like you, the media might
But we the elite will change that
As we bridge gaps in this lyrical grudge match, brothers
we slug back
Not only is this super clever but it is also an indictment on the overall rap genre. Often times when I tell people that I like hip hop their first inclination is to assume P. Diddy and Ludacris. To be clear I enjoy these guys, but they are not Hip Hop artists. They are rap artists. I could easily get sidetracked and list out all differences between Rap and Hip Hop, but that is for another blog post. For our purposes I believe the biggest distinguishing factor is lyrics.
What they rap about, the content.
Maybe Tribe CalledQuest can help us here. From Excursions off of Low End Theory:
You could find the Abstract listening to hip hop
My pops used to say, it reminded him of be-bop
I said, well daddy don't you know that things go in cycles
The way that Bobby Brown is just ampin like Michael
My pops used to say, it reminded him of be-bop
I said, well daddy don't you know that things go in cycles
The way that Bobby Brown is just ampin like Michael
Hip Hop, in the mind of the Tribe and in this authors mind is the natural progression of Mo-town. I'm a firm believer that if Ray Charles was born now, he would have a phat beat behind Hit The Road Jack.
In closing, Jurassic 5 is an exceptional band that has released an above average hip hop album. It makes me sad that bands are not releasing albums like this anymore.
Here are two Jurassic 5 songs from the album Quality Control. The first is my favorite song off of the album with no video. Listen to the lyrics, I'm not sure I've heard anything quite like it.
Second song has a video, it is the single off of the album. Great song with some stellar lines.
If I could, I would spend all of my time spreading the gospel of hip hop, but, no one is willing to pay me. Maybe I can get Diddy to put me on salary.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The Downfall of the Horror Industry
There seems to be a common thread of movie posts on here as of late which has got me thinking about something that has been really irritating me for the past few years, so I figured I'd write it down and get it off my chest and who knows maybe someone out there will agree with me. I HATE HORROR MOVIES THAT ARE RATED PG-13! There are seriously few things that erk me in this life as much as seeing a trailer for a horror film that looks mildly interresting only to reach the end of the trailer to see it has been slapped with a rating that does not belong in the genre of film that i have grown to love.
This may sound somewhat harsh and possibly irrational but I firmly believe in it. The word "horror" is denfined as- "An intense, painful feeling of repugnance and fear." To translate that feeling and emotion on to film is obviously going to require a lot of visuals and depictions of unpleasantries that in my feeling should not be inhibited to accomodate the needs of persons thirteen years of age. I'm not saying I'm some type of violence obsessed nut job, but I feel like you are very limited to what you can and can't do in a PG-13 film and I feel out of any movie genre out there, horror should be the group with the least amount of limitaions.
The main reason why this has been brought to the forefront of my mind is because on the 30th of this month New Line Cinema is scheduled to release a remake of Wes Craven's classic 'A Nightmare on Elm Street' and last I had heard, the studio and executives were pushing for a PG-13 rating. I'm uncertain if they are still trying to stick to that plan or if the final cut of the film will have that rating but even the fact that it was not only considered, but PUSHED to have a PG-13 rating agitates me greatly. The original 1984 'Nightmare' and the 7 sequels that followed were all given Restricted ratings, and rightfully so. It seems a bit ridiculous that the remake should be watered down and made less fierce and abrasive then the original. If anything you would think that the director and executives in charge would want to make it more harsh and try to push the envelope much more then what the 1984 version did!
Perhaps I am alone in my way of thinking, or perhaps I really have become desensitized, as my family and the conservative media keep telling me but when I watch a horror movie I want it to be shocking, gruesome, terrifying and maybe if I'm lucky, groundbreaking. PG-13 just doesn't cut it for me.
This may sound somewhat harsh and possibly irrational but I firmly believe in it. The word "horror" is denfined as- "An intense, painful feeling of repugnance and fear." To translate that feeling and emotion on to film is obviously going to require a lot of visuals and depictions of unpleasantries that in my feeling should not be inhibited to accomodate the needs of persons thirteen years of age. I'm not saying I'm some type of violence obsessed nut job, but I feel like you are very limited to what you can and can't do in a PG-13 film and I feel out of any movie genre out there, horror should be the group with the least amount of limitaions.
The main reason why this has been brought to the forefront of my mind is because on the 30th of this month New Line Cinema is scheduled to release a remake of Wes Craven's classic 'A Nightmare on Elm Street' and last I had heard, the studio and executives were pushing for a PG-13 rating. I'm uncertain if they are still trying to stick to that plan or if the final cut of the film will have that rating but even the fact that it was not only considered, but PUSHED to have a PG-13 rating agitates me greatly. The original 1984 'Nightmare' and the 7 sequels that followed were all given Restricted ratings, and rightfully so. It seems a bit ridiculous that the remake should be watered down and made less fierce and abrasive then the original. If anything you would think that the director and executives in charge would want to make it more harsh and try to push the envelope much more then what the 1984 version did!
Perhaps I am alone in my way of thinking, or perhaps I really have become desensitized, as my family and the conservative media keep telling me but when I watch a horror movie I want it to be shocking, gruesome, terrifying and maybe if I'm lucky, groundbreaking. PG-13 just doesn't cut it for me.
Monday, April 12, 2010
The Cell: a disturbing voyage into the mind of a serial killer
I remember watching the trailer for The Cell, which came out in 2000, starring Jennifer Lopez and not thinking that much of it. It came out on the heels of The Matrix, and so a lot of the scenes that show Lopez spelunking into a serial killer’s subconscious looked reminiscent of all the stuff Neo or Trinity could do: stay suspended in the air, the camera circles them, time slows down, and all that jazz.
But then I got a fresh look at the movie a couple months ago and watched it again today and I must say that this has got to be one of my favorite movies. A favorite idea of mine has always been the possibility of exploring someone else’s inner mind, their inner, private consciousness. Who knows what secrets we’d find lurking in there?
Hasn’t this been the wish and desire of every psychologist, of just anyone who’d love to know the darkest desires of a certain self, a desire that’s been repressed, sublimated under layers and layers of subtle or imperceptible self-delusion?
Or, who wouldn’t want to go back to your past and find the key events in your life that made you the person you are? While the event happens, you have no idea the effect it’ll have on you down the road. So, what if you could storm this ‘interior castle’?
Well, Jennifer Lopez plays Dr. Catherine Deane, an expert in child psychology, who is part of experiments which enter the inner, conscious world of coma patients to bring them back to consciousness! Dr. Deane is hooked up to this virtual reality device that is connected psychically to the mind of the coma patient. This lets Dr. Deane explore the minds of her patients.
We then get to see Carl Rudolph Stargher, a serial killer (same guy who played the psycho, marine recruit in Full Metal Jacket) who has fallen into a coma! But the problem is that police don’t know the whereabouts of his latest victim. So, Agent Novak (played by Vince Vaughn!) persuades Dr. Deane to probe Stargher’s mind to find clues about where this victim might be!
When we get inside Stargher’s mind, something strange happens. It’s so easy to paint despicable people in all black. We say they’re evil through and through. And I don’t say this to mitigate whatever heinous act they did; but I always wonder if things might be more complicated than the surface implies.
We see the demonic, bestial, ferocious side of Stargher; but we also see the child-like, innocent, hurt, wounded side, a side that’s been buried in hatred, perversion, vice, and violence. But it’s very interesting to see that even in the mind of a serial killer, there are regions of consciousness that are beautiful beyond words or horrible beyond belief.
The sequences in Stargher’s mind in which Dr. Deane journeys are very exotic and strikingly beautiful, inspired by art the director had himself been spellbound by. The special effects here work perfectly and I don’t see how some critics call them pretentious or overly grandiose or too voluptuous or what have you. I don’t think we have the special effects tools to capture exactly whatever it is that goes on in our minds. Haven’t you had dreams that defy the ability of any special effects team to simulate?
We learn that when he was a child, Stargher killed a bird out of mercy, to put it out of its misery. This motif is reechoed near the end of the movie when Dr. Deane lures the pure part of Stargher’s consciousness into a paradise of beauty and goodness; if she does this, Stargher will awake from the coma as a normal person instead of a twisted serial killer.
But the impure part pops up in the form of a snake. Since she can’t kill one without killing them both, she kills them both in the same way as Stargher killed the bird: to put it out of its misery.
This is a very good movie, and a very good evolution of the psycho, serial killer genre, whose company is Silence of the Lambs, Se7en, and Natural Born Killers. Instead of strengthening plot idiosyncrasies, they enter a new dimension. Who wouldn’t want to enter into the consciousness of Hannibal? The visuals are unmatched, and much of the dreamscapes seem like postmodern paintings that evoke and symbolize different truths about the hidden secrets of the nooks of our minds.
But then I got a fresh look at the movie a couple months ago and watched it again today and I must say that this has got to be one of my favorite movies. A favorite idea of mine has always been the possibility of exploring someone else’s inner mind, their inner, private consciousness. Who knows what secrets we’d find lurking in there?
Hasn’t this been the wish and desire of every psychologist, of just anyone who’d love to know the darkest desires of a certain self, a desire that’s been repressed, sublimated under layers and layers of subtle or imperceptible self-delusion?
Or, who wouldn’t want to go back to your past and find the key events in your life that made you the person you are? While the event happens, you have no idea the effect it’ll have on you down the road. So, what if you could storm this ‘interior castle’?
Well, Jennifer Lopez plays Dr. Catherine Deane, an expert in child psychology, who is part of experiments which enter the inner, conscious world of coma patients to bring them back to consciousness! Dr. Deane is hooked up to this virtual reality device that is connected psychically to the mind of the coma patient. This lets Dr. Deane explore the minds of her patients.
We then get to see Carl Rudolph Stargher, a serial killer (same guy who played the psycho, marine recruit in Full Metal Jacket) who has fallen into a coma! But the problem is that police don’t know the whereabouts of his latest victim. So, Agent Novak (played by Vince Vaughn!) persuades Dr. Deane to probe Stargher’s mind to find clues about where this victim might be!
When we get inside Stargher’s mind, something strange happens. It’s so easy to paint despicable people in all black. We say they’re evil through and through. And I don’t say this to mitigate whatever heinous act they did; but I always wonder if things might be more complicated than the surface implies.
We see the demonic, bestial, ferocious side of Stargher; but we also see the child-like, innocent, hurt, wounded side, a side that’s been buried in hatred, perversion, vice, and violence. But it’s very interesting to see that even in the mind of a serial killer, there are regions of consciousness that are beautiful beyond words or horrible beyond belief.
The sequences in Stargher’s mind in which Dr. Deane journeys are very exotic and strikingly beautiful, inspired by art the director had himself been spellbound by. The special effects here work perfectly and I don’t see how some critics call them pretentious or overly grandiose or too voluptuous or what have you. I don’t think we have the special effects tools to capture exactly whatever it is that goes on in our minds. Haven’t you had dreams that defy the ability of any special effects team to simulate?
We learn that when he was a child, Stargher killed a bird out of mercy, to put it out of its misery. This motif is reechoed near the end of the movie when Dr. Deane lures the pure part of Stargher’s consciousness into a paradise of beauty and goodness; if she does this, Stargher will awake from the coma as a normal person instead of a twisted serial killer.
But the impure part pops up in the form of a snake. Since she can’t kill one without killing them both, she kills them both in the same way as Stargher killed the bird: to put it out of its misery.
This is a very good movie, and a very good evolution of the psycho, serial killer genre, whose company is Silence of the Lambs, Se7en, and Natural Born Killers. Instead of strengthening plot idiosyncrasies, they enter a new dimension. Who wouldn’t want to enter into the consciousness of Hannibal? The visuals are unmatched, and much of the dreamscapes seem like postmodern paintings that evoke and symbolize different truths about the hidden secrets of the nooks of our minds.
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