Astral - Calla - Televise - 2002

Jesus...Televise, much like Half Smiles of the Decomposed seems to be like 90% composed of songs beginning with "A". Didn't I just write about Calla? It's like they did it on purpose. Anyway, more of the usual sluggish churn of Calla, though this one is a little better than most.

Anyway, this will be my last post on the now nearly two months old vacation...so, I hope you've enjoyed it all. I tried to make it as entertaining as the experience was.

After our adventures in Lord Nelson, we stopped in a deli to pick up some truly awful prepackaged sandwiches and then headed back to the hotel. Since I hadn't slept at all in the car, I was out shortly thereafter. I'd like to thank Anand and Rance for not drawing a fake moustache on me and taking compromising pictures of me.

The alarm clock went off at 700AM and I was not a happy camper. A week of partying had pretty much owed me a hangover, and here it was loud and screaming clear at 7AM. And I had to get to Heathrow for a 1030 flight.

Fortunately, the theory that you must get to the airport 2 hours before an international flight doesn't really hold that true on a winter Wednesday. I was through customs in a matter of minutes and had nearly two hours to kill with a raging hang over and about 5 pounds. I bought a bottle of water and some Internet time, but mostly I just sat in a corner and moaned.

My flight was largely uneventful. I sat next to an older British couple that I tried to be as inoffensive to as possible. I wanted to do my best to stay awake to avoid jetlag, so I only slept for maybe an hour and a half.

I watched quite possibly the worst movie I've ever seen. In The Name of the King. I mean, I'm all for a good D&D movie, but Jesus Christ...anytime you are involving Burt Reynolds in a fantasy movie...and don't even get me started on Ray Liotta. Or why everyone had a different accent. Not even LeeLee Sobieski's (sadly fully clothed) breasts could save this movie. Wow...just unbelievably bad. Now I understand why people were willing to box Ule Bowe. I chased it with the slightly saccerine but at least totally competant Walk the Line just to clense my pallate. Though it was remarkably hard to take seriously having seen "Walk Hard", but that's no fault of the movie itself.

And then I was home and that was it. I ate lots of fresh veggies that night and saw my girl, happy to be home, but sorry that it was over.

Armagideon Time - The Clash - London Calling B-side - 1979

So I watched the Coen Bros Burn After Reading last night...I have mixed feelings about the Coen Bros and equally mixed feelings on the film. On the one hand they are the directors of my favorite film of all time, Miller's Crossing...a beautiful, sad and lyrical film that manages to encompass all of the genre trappings, cartoonishness, and showy violence the Coen's are known for while still being a touching statement about loneliness, self-destruction, redemption and loyalty.

The Coens have made many other fine films as well the wonderfully tawdry Blood Simple, the hilarious Raising Arizona, the enigmatic Barton Fink, their Oscar films Fargo and No Country for Old Men, and of course the sublime Big Liebowski...but they have also made some crap. Hudsucker Proxy is an interesting failure, whereas Intolerable Cruelty and The Ladykillers are just failures. And even in their best films lies the sense that we are watching a movie. Even the semi-realistic tones of films like Fargo and No Country are steeped in cinematic convention and idiosyncratic behavior. Even when their movies are good...they remain fake.

Burn After Reading is probably closest to Hudsucker in terms of it's success, though the two films are very different. The attempt to satirize modern Washington DC, a city where even the people not involved in the government are involved in the government, is interesting and certainly not something that I have seen explored before. It is probably the only comedy I can think of that uses the Valerie Plame affair as it's cheif inspiration. And there are some wonderful little bits of characterization (Most of the stuff Brad Pitt does, Clooney's dildo chair, JK Simmons doing his usual unflabbable thing) but as a comedy...it just isn't that funny. And as a politcal mystery...it's rather lackluster...which again, is sort of the point, but then it needed to be a stronger comedy.

The Clash's Reggea attempts are much like this. It was an admirable attempt to fuse punk with the new found sounds of Carribean music...to fuse the tone of one dissaffected culture with the tone of another. Again, the attempt is admirable, but how often do you want to listen to it?

Arcturus - Crystal Antlers - Crystal Antlers EP - 2008

For a person who majored in film, I have seen a shockingly low number of films in the theater this year. Easily less than 10...probably less than 5. On some level I can blame what is almost universally regarded as a bad year in film...but I must also say that I feel as if movies are not made for me anymore. By and large they are made for children or middle aged women or protracted adolescents, and at least 2 of those I am not.

But having said that, I've actually been to the movies twice in the last week (The Wrestler and Gran Torino) and have to say that both films were absolute home runs...but then I have to think about why I connected to them. Both are about men out of their time...who look at the present day and niether understand it, nor particularly like it. This is helped by two performances by lead actors whose heydays were in other and far different time periods...and good as Mickey Rourke was, I can't help but be more touched by Eastwood's performance.

Eastwood (the actor) has been an institution longer than I've been alive by a decade. I'm niether a hater nor his biggest fan. None of his films would make my top ten (though Unforgiven would probably make top 20)...but there is the fact that Eastwood really is our last real cowboy. Other actors have ridden horses and worn hats since Eastwood first played the man with no name...but none have been so unquestionably identified with the genre like Clint. Even his other most famous role, as Dirty Harry, is something of a cowboy's role. And none of those other actors acted in a time when the Western was a real force in cinema. Sure they still make them, but the days of Stagecoach, Rio Bravo, The Searchers, and The Good The Bad and The Ugly are well behind us, and have been for my entire life.

And here was Clint, playing this man from another era facing a very modern and ignoble Detroit. If the rumors are true, and this is his last role...then I can hardly think of a better one. It allows him to be funnier than I've ever seen him, and ultimately more touching. To briefly enter spoiler territory, when Walt goes to his final showdown...he can't help but have the ghosts of THe Man With No Name, Dirty Harry, Josey Wales, and William Muny at his shoulder...which is why when the showdown goes the way it does, it couldn't be anymore beautiful. Sure, there is the obvious Christ metaphor at play (Which niether Clint, nor the exceptionally Catholic screenplay shys away from), but hasn't he earned it? Both in his career and in this film?

Also, I have to give the film credit for having a priest that was a decent man. Sure, the priest was presented as callow and niave, a charge that he himself does not deny, but he was above all else decent. And when was the last time you could say that about a priest in a modern movie that was neither about molestation nor exorcisms?

Anyway, I loved the movie and Clint's performance...

As for the song, these guys seem to be mining similar territory to Single Frame: A little spazzy, a little space rocky and a little punk/noise rock infused. They do it well enough, but Single Frame made it work with better songwriting than these guys muster here. Their full length is due this year, maybe they'll actually sharpen their chops for that.

Angels vs Aliens - Mogwai - Ten Rapid - 1997

Ok, so here is the thing that never made sense to me: you can't feed the Mogwai after midnight...but until when? Dawn? 7AM? 9AM? Is there some kind of Mogwai clock?

Also, if a drop of water made them multiply, what did they drink? Was it just water that produced this response. What if you dropped some Jameson's on them, would you get drunk and surly Gremlins (Suddenly the Leprechaun films make more sense...yes even Leprechaun 6: Back 2 Da Hood). Were Mogwai in fact the only non-water based life form around? Or was the reason the other Mogwai wanted to turn into Gremlins just cause they were freaking thirsty?

Continuing on this line of thinking...the title of this song also suggests a new film franchise to me. Now that the Alien has succesfully faced off against The Predator, perhaps they need to take a shot at God's messengers. Angels vs Aliens: This time it's Holy War! I'm thinking the Rock as Michael the Angel general, with Vin Diesel as Gabriel, and Samuel L. Jackson as God. And of course, as always, James Earl Jones as the voice of the magic taco.

Thoughts for the ages.

All The Same To Me - Golden Smog - Weird Tales - 1998

My roommate and I watched Die Hard II (Die Harder) last night...and I have to say that, even counting Live Free or Die Hard, this is easily the worst Die Hard movie. There are those that will say Die Hard with a Vengence, but personally, even if it's ludicrous, I still enjoy watching Willis and Sam Jackson driving around NYC yelling at each other. Frankly, I'd watch a movie of just that, even without the ass kicking.

But here are my reasons for voting Die Harder as the worst:
1) There is absolutely no character development in this film (okay, I know...no one watches Die Hard for the character development but still...) it's just a series of badly choreographed gun fights, McClane killing people in convuluted ways and snappy one-liners that are niether snappy nor one funny.
2) Reny Harlin. I have a long standing theory that the Dutch just shouldn't be allowed to direct films. Verhooven gets a pass for a few of his films, but then has also made a few that he should be flogged for. But Reny Fucking Harlin...Cutthroat Island, all I'm saying.
3) No one should ever be forced to see William Sadler naked...ever.
4) Sipowitz is in this film and all he does is yell.
5) The General (played by Italian Franco Nero) can't seem to decide if he is Russian or South American. This may be the director's fault though.
6) There are many ways that you can tell that this film is made in 1990...McClane's pager, the giant cell phones, smoking in the airport, the awe with which people regard the fax machine, but none is so aggregious as the casting of angular mid-thirties women in the minor roles. Granted, we've tipped the scale far too far in the other direction, if we made this movie today the Airport Girl, Stewardess, and the Junior Reporter would all be played by the female cast of Gossip Girl...but come on...even the airport customer service girl that hits on McClane is unattractive. Throw us a bone, you Dutch fuck.
7) Did I mention William Sadler was naked?
8) Fred Thompson has a major part in this film...about airline terrorism...and he negotiated with the terrorist...and that douchebag ran for president and then did absolutely nothing.

Anyway, this probably the least interesting/energetic song on an album I really love. One of Tweedy's cast offs from Wilco gets recycled with about as much enthusaism as that statement merits.