Good, because I want no kids, no teddy bears. I want zero percent Robin Williams. This should be the anti-A.I. In the first twenty seconds I want a gun-cock and at least three broken windows. I want the kids to know therere no robots whining for their mommies in this one.
Behind the Scenes: the Minority Report Trailer. Shitbag Hollywood types are easy targets, but nonetheless Joshua Allen hits the nail on the head. That’s the funny shit, yo.
Here’s some more evil for ya. Learn magic and thrill kill your friends! (via MeFi)
In truth, Kieslowski hadn’t really stopped working. He and Piesiewicz had a new trilogy in mind, about Hell, Purgatory and Heaven. The audacity! Again, the tantalizing promise! Were they serious? Kieslowski suggested that he was, reportedly telling Miramax head Harvey Weinstein that Hell clearly had to be set in Los Angeles.
Excellent article at Salon about Kieslowski’s “Three Colours” series. At the turn of the last century (what a near-vampiric thing to say), critics who attempted to assemble best-of-90s lists couldn’t see past the late-90s vogue for anything shot in Iran, and so they frequently left these masterpieces out of the running. Sadly, the freaks at Miramax have yet to release them on DVD.
Having portrayed the Mac as the computer for over-achievers, it’s now suggesting that it’s a kind of refugee camp for life’s most bitter losers… it’s an unmitigating psychological disaster – an error on the scale of rebranding Coke.
The Register savages Apple’s new ad campaign. I don’t agree, but that’s some funny stuff nonetheless.
I’m thinking of signing up for the blogathon on behalf of Amnesty International. Would anyone send a fin or two Amnesty’s way if I did? The downside is that I’d spend 24 hours blogging the day before my dad’s birthday… Anyway, I be deliberatin’.
Julius Caesar: the original warblogger.
That’s not a bad phrase, is it?
Last-minute style! Contact me – either via email or via comments – if you’re interested in attending the 13th Annual MuchMusic Video Awards this sunday! I have two wristbands that give you parking lot access! I wasn’t that excited about Li’l Bow Wow! But Swollen Members would be good to see! Bring raingear! I’m serious, I really have the passes! And exclamation fever!
Apparently to be a blog, one needs to update frequently. So my license is in danger of being revoked. Leading to this post, the classic “post to say I’ll be posting more,” another weblog staple. Look: I had nothing to say, alright? And was too busy to say it. Here’s some evil for ya, now stop complaining.
Rock rock rock rock rock. NXNE. Friday: Starling, alterna-pop rock. Liked their fast numbers bettter than their Radiohead ones. Then: young & sexy, tag team boy-girl slop rock, the best of the night, under less than favourable conditions, unless you like sardines, constant jostling and red-hot temperatures (time for that cooling system, Rancho Relaxo!) Then, old school pent-up youthed-up punk rock, Taylored, in the mostly empty Holy Joes. On the way out saw the tail end of a White Cowbell show, and I wish to all hell I had watched that one – firebreathing and cowboys and wizards!
Saturday: Cy Scobie, not rock at all for once, rather Kruder & Dorfmeister knocking heads with Amon Tobin, except with a lot more flute. Then, a narrow escape from 80s metal paunch rock, Plastic Bag; a swerve into the Horseshoe, expecting ska, happily surprised by unscheduled non-rock, Ghetto Concept extended family Seven Bills. The Sadies follow, and their spaghetti western surf rock handily blows my tender little mind. Tall, hard, hard-drinkin’, chainsmokin’ cowboy dudes who kill on guitar and shred a fiddle – that shit is dyno-mite. Apparently a touch of a claustrophobe, I was too ravaged by the Sadies to stick around in the Horseshoe for for the highly praised garage rock of The Mooney Suzuki, which I now regret.
In summary. NXNE rocks.
Sympatico High Speed has imposed a bit cap, so now users will be charged if they transfer more than 5 gigs a month. Obviously this is pathetic, and flies in the face of everything their marketing promises – but we can be sure that marketing will not be amended to include phrases like, “download large files – just not too many.” So visit the Residential Broadband Users’ Association, sign their petition, and — oh wait, Bell pulled their online poll about bit caps, which showed 95% were opposed to them. Fancy that! Non-Canadians, you should get worked up about this too; your giant corporations can’t be far behind. (As an aside, it’s nice to see the Globe reporting on this, given that Bell owns them now.)
If your interests run to the historical you should immerse yourself in the bafflingly immense Perseus Digital Library. I dredged up some of Cicero’s orations and let me tell ya, that old bastard could certainly turn a phrase. But that’s only scratching the surface… QuickTime VR of the Tomb of Nefer, anyone? Good fucking Christ.
So Insomnia, then. Saw that. Loved it. Lived it, later. It’s a simple structure, which one might or might not expect from Nolan after Memento, but there are layers of meaning in it that can keep unfolding in one’s head afterwards. The central issue is that age-old question of whether the means justify the ends, so it reminded me of my favourite Dash Hammett book, Red Harvest. There’s also a question of motive: Pacino’s character says to the hairy antagonist, “who gives a fuck about motive,” but of course he himself is torn apart figuring out whether he meant to shoot his partner or not. And yes, there was a sleeping failure of my own, it was sort of a double feature – but there are other things to blame than the film.
Hell, what I wanted to mention was Nicky Katt, whose blowjob crack in Insomnia sounded so much like something his Limey character might have said that I can only assume he authored it. He’s my new fave character actor, right after Ricky Jay. I’d like for the two of them to do a buddy cop picture as soon as possible. Ideally something involving smack-dealing elves.
My dad used to sing a lot of folk songs until he hacked his hand up with a circular saw. This put a cramp on his guitar playin’ ability. He can still do it, but the nerve endings are dull, so he makes mistakes and gets angry.
My homies and I have been getting into that music thing lately. Thus I’ve been playing guitar again. I was over at my parents’ house tonight; one thing led to another and the guitar came out. Soon after, old songs came tumbling out of our throats – rusty, but still good.
There’s many a man that Ive known in my day
Who lived just to labor his whole life away.
Like a fiend for his dope or a drunkard his wine,
A man will have lust for the lure of the mine.For its dark as a dungeon and its damp as the dew,
Where the dangers are double, and the pleasures are few,
Where the rain never falls and the sun never shines:
Its dark as a dungeon way down in the mines.
Hot damn it felt good to sing that song again.
Now that I’ve watched 19 Russ Meyer films I figured it was time to share some knowledge, or rather opinion masked as knowledge. Herewith, d/blog’s guide to Russ Meyer film watching. After some initial notes, I’ll list these films in the order I think you should approach his oeuvre (damn! what a word, yo), and append delightful comments along the way.
Beyond the Valley of the Dolls,
Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill!,
Vixen,
The Seven Minutes,
Cherry, Harry & Racquel,
Mudhoney,
Blacksnake,
Good Morning and Goodbye,
Supervixens,
Mondo Topless,
Up!,
Common Law Cabin,
Wild Gals of the Naked West,
Beneath the Valley of the Ultravixens,
The Immoral Mr. Teas,
Eve and the Handyman,
Lorna,
Motorpsycho,
Finders Keepers, Lovers Weepers
a good start is <a
href=”http://excaliburfilms.com/html/excal/satelite/russmeyr/meyer2.htm”
this page. Something left out: after WWII, Meyer tried to join the
ASC (American Society of Cinematographers) but was continually rebuffed.
So he did still photography, but he also made industrial films of
various sorts. One can only imagine how different his career (and
attitude towards Hollywood) might have been had he been allowed to join.
As things turned out, Meyer became a staunch independent who mistrusted
Hollywood greatly. Most of his friends were old army buddies and not
film industry types.
I may add a better bio at some point. But I’m waaay too lazy right
now – let’s get on with it.
Meyer is god’s own auteur. He frequently produced, distributed,
directed, wrote, edited and shot his films – up until recently, if you
called his office looking to license one of his pictures, you talked to
Russ. Subsequently, if any director is approachable via auteur theory,
it’s RM.
So, what makes a Russ Meyer film? In general, look for a
large-breasted, powerful woman as the central character. Furious
editing. Sex, obviously. Beautiful photography, courtesy RM himself.
Don’t expect high caliber acting, although there are surprises here and
there (Charles Napier in Supervixens). A great deal of the films are
tongue-in-cheek. He likes to open his films with a voiceover, and
experiments with this form of storytelling repeatedly, from the
meaningless VO in Teas to the opening text scroll of Cherry, Harry &
Racquel to the “Greek Chorus” of Up! You see the same locations over and
over again, as he liked to shoot on the cheap around his home. In a way,
all of the films are Westerns. Many of them are cartoons. You’ll also
see repeat characters – the cruel old patriarch who can’t get it up, the
obedient young stud, the old crone.
Note: many will argue that any higher meaning detected in Meyer’s
films was inserted in order to get by the censors and should be
disregarded. Dismiss this out of hand. It is true Meyer practiced such a
technique, as social commentary in an otherwise smutty film lent weight
to the argument that the film had a societal benefit outweighing its
appeal to prurient interests, which gave it a better chance of skirting
the censors. Furthermore Meyer often dismisses any deeper meaning as
such, a red herring. But always take directors’ opinions on their own
work with a grain of salt. Meyer is a complex artist, and there’s plenty
going on in these films.
Canon, ouevre, auteur… will the pretension ever stop? But anyway – A good way of approaching Meyer’s work is to divide his films into four
periods:
1. Nudie-cuties
2. Black & white sadist dramas
3.
technicolour relationship dramas
4. parodies
1. Nudie-cuties
Meyer invented the nudie-cutie with The Immoral Mr.
Teas, and went on to make Eve and the Handyman, Erotica!, Wild Gals of
the Naked West, Heavenly Bodies, and Europe in the Raw. The later Mondo
Topless fits into this group. Basically, film nudity before this point
had to be couched in either documentary form (real live footage from a
nudist camp!) or accusatory rhetoric (these horrible sluts are ruining
society!) Meyer changed all that and made it okay to scope gorgeous
broads. These films are characterized by simplistic plotlines, no synch
sound, heavy voiceover, tons of breasts and no sex.
2. B&W sadist dramas
The B&W period kicks off with Lorna. Films of this
period, including Motorpsycho, Mudhoney, and Faster Pussycat, feature
violent storylines with little sex and nudity. In all except
Motorpsycho, a woman is the central character.
3. technicolour relationship dramas
Good Morning and Goodbye, Commonlaw
Cabin, Finders Keepers, Vixen, and Cherry Harry & Raquel comprise the
technicolour period. Besides the obvious colour treatment, the films
tend to concern themselves with relationships – often two or more
couples per film. There’s less emphasis on violence, and much more
nudity, sex, and technical experimentation.
4. parody
Although the parody phase starts with BVD, it’s interrupted by
two films that don’t fit into any category: The Seven Minutes and
Blacksnake. After the romp through Hollywood that was BVD, Meyer was
offered a serious script, a courtroom drama, which he took and which
subsequently bombed (The Seven Minutes). He then returned to independent
production, although he took one last stab at serious subject matter,
Blacksnake, which concerned itself with racism and slavery (although it
retained plenty of exploitation elements). This also bombed, and Meyer,
who always placed a lot of stock in box office gross, concluded that his
audience wanted a specific type of product from him: the Russ Meyer
movie. With Supervixens, Up, and Beneath the Valley of the Ultravixens,
Meyer gave the audience what it wanted, although having grown out of his
own style he parodied it constantly in the process. This period is also
marked by a great increase in sexual content – Meyer felt the need to
compete with the new mainstream porns (Deep Throat et al), yet always
stopped just short of hardcore – as he notes, he was selling “the
sizzle, not the steak.”
I’m putting these in an order you might want to follow, were
you a first-time RM would-be viewer. High up the list means must-see,
low down means for fanatics only. Note also that I haven’t seen all his films – there are three early ones I haven’t
seen, and who really knows about this Pandora Peaks thing? So I’ve only
written about the film’s I’ve seen, which I think makes all sorts of sense.
For a chronological list, see the IMDB’s Russ Meyer page.
A camp masterpiece of epic proportions. It’s more a parody of The Valley
of the Dolls than a sequel – part soap, part sex romp, part musical,
part slasher flick. Script by Roger Ebert. Great 60s slang and shlock
rock throughout. Meyer makes use of a giant Hollywood crew for the first
time. Watch this first.
Be sure to read Ebert’s ownthoughts
about the film.
2. Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill!
This has become the cult favourite of the cult favourites, and with good
reason: it’s a tight, well-paced semi-thriller that features standout
performances by Tura Satana, Haji and Lori Williams as the murderous
racer chicks. As usual, a great opening. Perfect example of the B&W
period.
Easily his most controversial film for its scenes of interracial sex,
lesbian sex and incest, Vixen was banned in Cleveland and elsewhere,
cost only $46,000, yet grossed over $35-million. This is the best of the
technicolour period. Classic Meyer story of a woman’s voracious sexual
appetite, the likes of which no man, woman, or combination thereof can
satisfy. Also features bitchin’ montage in which a Communist’s rants are
crosscut with – what else – a sex scene. Also contains the exquisite
fish dance scene.
This film is insane. It’s very hard to find, but if you can get
your hands on it you have to watch it, as it explains a lot about Russ
Meyer. Basically, the issue it covers is close to his heart
(censorship), and the genre is a total anomaly for him (courtroom
drama). It’s the fastest paced courtroom drama I’ve ever seen. There are
many other technical accomplishments but … enough of my yakkin’, go
watch it.
Even if you only watch the first minute and a half, watch this. The
opening is a screed on the topic of sexual freedom and the societal
repression thereof, apparently written by Tom Wolfe, which scrolls up
the screen over a montage of airplanes, office buildings, and topless
babes bouncing on beds. In typical Meyer fashion, the prologue is
followed by an intro, with prudish VO over footage over a woman living
it up on a yacht. The first part is heartfelt, the second is there to
get the film past censors.
The ending is also fascinating. The female members of the love triangle
finally have sex, while Harry fights to the death with his arch-nemesis,
the indian. Makes it seem that, paradoxically, in the ideal Meyer world,
there are no men at all.
Another well-made B&W picture, with a great turn by Hal Hopper as the
maniac drunk who implodes as the film progresses. Like the Seven
Minutes, Mudhoney’s adapted from a book, which gives it a different feel
than many RM pictures. Set during the depression.
This is one of the tougher films to deal with in many ways. It’s another
issue picture, this time dealing with slavery (Meyer hates racists).
However, the film’s exploitation elements are so exaggerated that he was in fact
lambasted for being a racist. Although this wasn’t the case, many
scenes still may be too extreme for many (crucifixion, rape), and in
many ways the exploitation elements undermine the film’s serious
intents.
As a historical drama, it doesn’t fit in to any of the above RM
periods, other than being a catalyst for Meyer’s ultimate move to
parody. The photography is stunning. Sex, although present, is minimal
and usually problematized by violence. Anouska Hempel does a great job
as the sadist plantation owner – although after the film bombed, Meyer
swore he’d never again prioritize acting ability over cup size in the
casting of his lead actresses.
This picture’s script is impressive – lots of zingers. It was written by
Jack Moran, who wrote a number of other Meyer pics, frequently recorded
sound on the films, and even acts in Common Law Cabin. In general, the
acting is tighter than usual. The “Soul” character, played by Pussycat’s
Haji, is a hint of the Meyer metaphysics to come in later films.
As far as I can tell this is Meyer’s own favourite. It’s an excellent
film, but it refers extensively to RM’s other films, so it’s better to
watch it after having seen a few others. It’s a great example of the
parody period, but it’s also oddly meta-: not only in self-referential
ways, but also metaphysical (the nasty SuperAngel, violently murdered by
Napier’s sherrif in the first act, is reincarnated as SuperVixen toward
the end). All the female roles are Super- something or other; most of
the roles are pilfered from earlier films. There are explicit cartoon
elements. It’s an oddly picaresque narrative, with Clint Ramsey drifting
from situation to situation, each dominated by a buxom superbabe. Ebert
worked on the script, but didn’t take a credit.
Okay – there’s no plot, no characters, just shots of topless dancers,
well, dancing topless. Recordings of their interviews are played over
dancing montages (“I couldn’t help but develop muscles in my chest”).
The editing is really stunning, and formally, this picture is something
to behold. The voiceover is fabulous – one dancer is described as
“perfectly configured for the art of the topless.” Also, the intro with
its double entendres about San Fransisco – “thrusts itself into the
bosom of the Pacific”…. If you love breasts, watch this film – it’s
full of life, full of love for the female form, and full of love for
film.
Up! is messed. It’s late period parody Meyer, designed around shock
value. In the opening scene, a Hitler lookalike is whipped and then
assfucked by a man dressed as a pilgrim. There are two things that
Tarantino referenced (or stole, depending on how you want to look at it)
in Pulp Fiction: the leather-masked gimp, and the choosing of
ever-nastier weapons – bat, axe, chainsaw… Features a “Greek Chorus”,
played by always-naked Kitten Natividad, and written by Ebert. It’s
absolutely outrageous in terms of story construction, but that’s part of
the fun. Also contains one of my favourite Meyer shots: to shoot a woman
opening a man’s fly, Meyer put the zipper over the camera, and reveals
the grinning soon-to-be fellatress as she unzips it.
CLC is a gorgeous technicolour picture, with the tight plot-based story
of the B&W films. Features writer Jack Moran as a dad who struggles with
his desire for his teenage daughter. Nothing happens, although
a great
review mentions this tension “hangs over the film like a thundercloud.”
Like Gilligan’s Island on viagra.
13. Wild Gals of the Naked West
What a title! This is probably the most cartoonish of Meyer films – only
the narration has sync sound, the rest of the film being tiny vignettes
of life in a wild western town. The vignettes recur and rarely change – scene of whores literally fishing for men, scene of man chasing topless
“Indian” babe, scene of someone cavorting in gorilla suit, then back to
the whores, etc. That, and the fact that many scenes are shot against
bare primary colour backdrops, makes this a borderline surrealist film.
Easily the best of the nudie cuties for the modern-day viewer.
14. Beneath the Valley of the Ultravixens
There’s nothing that stunning in BVU that you won’t see in better parody
films like Up! or Supervixens, but if you like those films you may want
to take a look. There’s an interesting theory, mentioned in
this book, that in BVU Meyer was
paying homage to his time spent as an industrial filmmaker. The last
Meyer pic other than the mysterious Pandora Peaks… does that film
actually exist?
While this picture was groundbreaking at the time, it has little to
recommend it these days. The surreal sequences are done much better in
Wild Gals, and there’s funnier narration in Mondo Topless. Stars Bill
Teas, a Meyer army buddy (yes, that’s his real name).
Once again, today’s viewer will find little of interest here. However,
it’s Meyer’s first wife Eve Meyer in the title role, and as far as I
know it’s the only film of his that she appeared in, although she
produced a great number of them.
The rape-turns-into-love storyline is enough to turn off any viewer
these days. Historically significant as the first B&W picture, the first
to have a woman as the central character and her sexual desire the
story’s fuel. Hal Hopper does another good job as a lecherous drunk,
Lorna Maitland is something to behold, and the preacher-in-the-highway
opening seems to have influenced Lynch (Lost Highway), but it’s not
actually that enjoyable to watch.
A tale of marauding sleazeball biker punks. On Eve Meyer’s suggestion,
RM made a female car-driving version of this film, and the result was
the much better Faster Pussycat. There are many identical plot elements.
The lead biker’s psychotic breakdown may be the first instance of a
Vietnam vet losing his shit on film. Nice soundtrack.
19. Finders Keepers, Lovers Weepers
Sort of a crime picture crossed with a relationship drama. Has a few
good lines, but it’s nothing to write home about.
Alright, fine – this whole thing is opinion. Nonetheless I felt the need to
make some further remarks. RM’s films, which I consumed over a period of three months, have
changed things in me, and stirred up old passions. When I had been getting rather bored with
film in general, these films have reminded me just how fabulous well-made films can be.
They’ve made me hate sexual prudishness and any form of censorship. They’ve made me want to
go out and experiment. And they have reminded me that the best films are those that entertain as
well as enlighten – fuck off, four-hour brooding family dramas! Say it fast, loud,
bright, smart, and big – or just shut up.
Put differently: carry a big stick, and as you hit them over the head, wink.
There could stand to be a hell of a lot more written about this fella. As it is, there’s this
bibliography, which has a great intro
and would be your ticket to further research in the periodical world. There’s
The Very Breast of Russ Meyer,
that should’ve been published a year ago but keeps being pushed back. There’s an out-of-print German book.
And the motherlode is A Clean Breast,
Meyer’s three-volume, $200 autobiography, which would be great, if anyone could afford it. shakes fist Damn
your keen business sense, Meyer!
The weblogger’s best friend is google, as many have pointed out. Many have also pointed out their bizarre search requests (mental image of thousands of webmasters scratching their heads over searches like “wife “adult diaper”“ and “gangbang crimefighter”). This very weblog is proud to be the #1 google result for king of jumpsuit, the #1 choice for wimpy burger, #3 for iraq and 911, #7 for closet fascist and millenium actress, and #17 for obey giant.
Why is that, I’ll pretend you ask?
The answer is simple, little Timmy. pats head of adorable little scamp My individual archives use the entry title as the HTML title tag, which google prioritizes highly. (It also favours weblogs in general, but that’s a long story.) Hence, an entry titled “wimpy burger” takes the wimpy burger crown. Suck it, Wimpy Burger!
But enough of this palaver. On to the point. There’s been a lot of talk lately across the weblog scene about googlebombing. Googlebombing to date seems either jokey or aggressive, either a lark perpetrated on a friend’s site or a populist uprising against a corrupt web company. What about benevolent googlebombing? What if I was concerned that a certain google search wasn’t returning relevant information easily enough, so I set up a page with that info and try to get Google to rank it as high as possible? That’s right, I’m going to try exactly that, on the topic of Russ Meyer… coming soon. I’ve done repeated searches for the man and what the web needs is a page with all the relevant data in one place. Having watched almost all his films (for work! I swear!), I think I could help out.
And by the way, I’d also like to be the number one search result for shitbag.
sniff
Apparently when I was small I was obsessed with masks. (This is the source of many an amusing and/or embarassing anecdote, depending on whether you’re me or not, at family gatherings and the like.) At one point, I refused to go out in public without one on. I also lobbied for the entire family to wear them. I told my mother, “you should wear a mask of yourself so I can see what you really look like.” This last tidbit has only recently come to light. Clearly I misunderstood some aspects of the mask/face relationship, but it also explains certain of my present day opinions, such as what I consider the best Hallowe’en costume ever: my friend Andy dressing up as my friend Brooks.
Although I shouldn’t be posting here right now, I need to ask: does anyone have pointers for nifty little things I can do on a Palm Pilot? (Good games, programs, etc.) I seem to have one, for a little while anyway.
You’ve reached d/blog. I’m moving this week, so I’ll be away from the weblog more than I’d like. Please leave a message in the ‘comments’ area, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.
What with it being a year since I started doing the Caesar weblog, I’ve been thinking about that whole thing a fair amount. It’s a very strange thing, that thing I do. When people ask me about it they say “how’s Caesar doing?” and I respond, “he’s fine, he did [this or that].” It’s a strange thing, to get into character for 15 minutes a day. I’ve been treating him like a separate person. And when it comes to the site, I try to stay in character as well. He only allows comments on certain posts, when I imagine he might actually care what people think about something – for example, he wants to hear all manner of praise for having done the site for a year. I took out a MeFi text ad for him, and I phrased it as I thought he might: fluid, simple, somewhat pompous, with typical Caesar sentence structure (Latin-style), the verb delayed as long as possible.
There’s a lot of things that I should improve about his site, but frankly much of the time he’s just a pain in the ass. Aw fuck, I think, I’ve got to update Caesar again. But I keep doing it; and other times it borders on the rewarding, and sometimes even crosses right over into “shucks, this is fun” territory.
Shortly after starting the site I realized it’s not really a weblog at all, rather a journal, but I felt it was too late to change. I resent that now. And sometimes I resent how long it will take – at the rate I’m going (4:1 time compression) I will be doing this for three more years. Damn, I need to pick up the pace!
But as I say, there are fun moments. I like getting mail from highschool students asking for help with their Caesar-related papers. I like the other D getting excited when Caesar links to him. I like other people contacting me about doing other historical weblogs (although I don’t like that they never seem to stick it out. Persistence, people!). I like the odd mention in obscure newspapers.
Yet I worry that the project is at best an obscure one; that I am at best a person obsessed with the obscure; that I am doomed, at best, to spend my life wallowing in obscurities. While people like Caesar are out there taking over the world. Ah, the lament of the third-rate biographer.
But. To flip flop again. (And to move from the position of biographer to that of third-rate motivational coach.) As I tend to say about smoking: I’m not a quitter.
There’s a new collage done. You may note it’s composed of pictures I took, which could possibly make you wonder why I haven’t posted anything to d/photo for a couple months. If you were to ask me about this, I would answer: a) I didn’t think any of the living room photos really stood on their own, and b) I don’t have a camera (had to borrow one to take those shots). Lack of camera makes photoblog sad. I’ll try to get right on that.
More importantly, today is Bloggus Caesari‘s first birthday. That’s right, a whole year of obscure Roman history, in tasty weblog™ form!
A cartoon parable of the neverending Mideast Crisis. (via a.wholelottanothing)
I saw Spider-Man like everyone else last weekend, and while more or less impressed, was struck by the discrepancy between the Peter Parker scenes and those involving Spidey himself. The first act is a great piece of screenwriting and direction, with his discovery of new abilities told visually and concisely. And McGuire is fabulous in the Parker role. But the naturalism generated during this first hour seems weirdly at odds with the muscle-suited cavorting that begins to occupy the story’s attention. I think something was missing between Spidey’s shoddily-outfitted wrestling bout and his sudden slickness in the real costume. (Did he make that thing himself?) I found Defoe over the top, but this may be a result of the aforementioned style clash – and many whom I have talked with loved him as the Goblin, so possibly I’m on my own here. But I found Parker much more interesting than Spidey, and that has to make you wonder.
Why are superhero characters so popular these days? Weren’t we supposed to be distrustful of heroes, at least moreso now than earlier in the century? Yet the past 13 years have seen a mad explosion in superhero filmmaking. How long will the boom last before superhero films go the way of the western and musical and the franchises come crashing down? Maybe Spider-man, with the geek real-life identity overpowering the fascist fantasy, is a signal that the winds are changing. Hopefully we will see a good revisionist superhero movie soon. Batman came close. If you strip the revenge plot from The Crow, you have a revisionist superhero (a psychopath who pierces a victim’s organs in alphabetical order, amongst other things). But possibly Ang Lee’s Hulk will use the Jeckyll-Hyde material effectively and be remembered as The Searchers in tights.
To continue the topic drift from day to day, I’ve gotten myself very excited about Weezer‘s new album. It rocks to beat the band. Mere mortals can pick it up in stores on tuesday. Also scope out the Rivers Cuomo correspondence archive, which relates the strange tale of a rockstar coming to value the opinions of his fans via the magic of the “Internet” thing we’ve all heard so much about. (Okay – it’s not a new link, but it’s a good one.)
update, friday:: fine, here’s some new stuff for ya. An interview with Cuomo in Billboard touches on some interesting things: Cuomo is now the band’s manager, Cuomo plays hardball with Geffen, Cuomo’s use of the web, Cuomo’s hidden love of the Scorpions.
Just while we’re on the topic of orchestral covers of rock songs, along comes classical weezer.
