My friend C told me recently about this concept of a six-word memoir. Apparently, the goal is to sum up one's life in only six words. Smith Magazine apparently started this movement, which has been publicized by NPR. There's even a book entitled Not Quite What I Was Planning (count the number of words in that title) that compiles these compact memoirs from the famous and the non-famous.
In the spirit of this movement, here's mine:
Happily, a long way from home.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
A Virgin No More
No, not that kind of virgin. Please.
Last week, I finally saw a performance of the musical Pippin with my friend N. That may not sound like much of an accomplishment, but I had never seen the show before. Ever. I realize that lots of people could perhaps claim that as well, but I have seen quite a few musicals in my time. I'm a fan of musical theater, after all, so why wouldn't I have seen Pippin before now?
What's even odder is the apparently large number of productions of Pippin that must be going on around the world even as we speak. Several years ago, I went to see a production of Jesus Christ Superstar that featured two of my friends. It was in a church somewhere down in Orange County, and there wasn't much to do besides talk to a few other people in the audience whom I knew and read the program. I noticed that several members of the cast and crew had been in productions of Pippin. Since I had been living in the Southern California region for about 10-12 years at that point and most of the cast and crew were also residents of the area, I began to wonder where all of these productions had been.
After that performance, I started to read the programs more carefully when I went to see a musical. I was looking for someone, anyone, who had also performed in Pippin. It turns out that at almost every musical theater production, at least one cast member or someone on the crew has a connection to this musical from the early 1970s. Try it yourself. The next time you go to a musical, especially a "professionally" produced one, look in the program to find the people with Pippin in their past.
I thought I had found a production with no connections a few years ago when I went to see Wicked at the Pantages (during its first stop in Los Angeles, not the current "open-ended" run). None of the cast members had ever performed in it; none of the crew had ever worked on it. I thought I had at long last found the only non-Pippin performance ever, and then I read the bio for the songwriter, Stephen Schwartz. Yes, that's right. The same Stephen Schwartz who wrote the music for Pippin almost 30 years earlier.
(I have, by the way, since found a musical theater production with no connection to Pippin whatsoever: The Color Purple at the Ahmanson downtown this spring. Go figure.)
Since all of these people had been in Pippin or worked on it, I wondered why I had never even heard of a local production or even a touring company production. I just had no access to Pippin because no one ever seemed to be performing it anywhere near me. Finally, my college decided to "revive" the show for its opening production of the spring semester. N and I sat in the third row in the center of the theater, and I guess I can now say that I have been deflowered. Pippin got me at last.
I can't say that it's a great show. Only a couple of the songs seem particularly memorable: "Magic to Do" and maybe "No Time at All." The guy playing Pippin was no great singer and not really much of a dancer either. The girl playing his stepmother was a bit too nasally for my tastes as well, a sort of Fran Drescher type. A couple of former students were in the company, and they are really quite talented dancers. The staging was, as always, interesting, and I thought the way the musical played with the conventions and expectations of musical theater was clever. Still, I can't believe it took more than 44 years for me to lose my Pippin virginity. They say you never forget your first time, but sadly, sometimes the first time isn't all that memorable.
Last week, I finally saw a performance of the musical Pippin with my friend N. That may not sound like much of an accomplishment, but I had never seen the show before. Ever. I realize that lots of people could perhaps claim that as well, but I have seen quite a few musicals in my time. I'm a fan of musical theater, after all, so why wouldn't I have seen Pippin before now?
What's even odder is the apparently large number of productions of Pippin that must be going on around the world even as we speak. Several years ago, I went to see a production of Jesus Christ Superstar that featured two of my friends. It was in a church somewhere down in Orange County, and there wasn't much to do besides talk to a few other people in the audience whom I knew and read the program. I noticed that several members of the cast and crew had been in productions of Pippin. Since I had been living in the Southern California region for about 10-12 years at that point and most of the cast and crew were also residents of the area, I began to wonder where all of these productions had been.
After that performance, I started to read the programs more carefully when I went to see a musical. I was looking for someone, anyone, who had also performed in Pippin. It turns out that at almost every musical theater production, at least one cast member or someone on the crew has a connection to this musical from the early 1970s. Try it yourself. The next time you go to a musical, especially a "professionally" produced one, look in the program to find the people with Pippin in their past.
I thought I had found a production with no connections a few years ago when I went to see Wicked at the Pantages (during its first stop in Los Angeles, not the current "open-ended" run). None of the cast members had ever performed in it; none of the crew had ever worked on it. I thought I had at long last found the only non-Pippin performance ever, and then I read the bio for the songwriter, Stephen Schwartz. Yes, that's right. The same Stephen Schwartz who wrote the music for Pippin almost 30 years earlier.
(I have, by the way, since found a musical theater production with no connection to Pippin whatsoever: The Color Purple at the Ahmanson downtown this spring. Go figure.)
Since all of these people had been in Pippin or worked on it, I wondered why I had never even heard of a local production or even a touring company production. I just had no access to Pippin because no one ever seemed to be performing it anywhere near me. Finally, my college decided to "revive" the show for its opening production of the spring semester. N and I sat in the third row in the center of the theater, and I guess I can now say that I have been deflowered. Pippin got me at last.
I can't say that it's a great show. Only a couple of the songs seem particularly memorable: "Magic to Do" and maybe "No Time at All." The guy playing Pippin was no great singer and not really much of a dancer either. The girl playing his stepmother was a bit too nasally for my tastes as well, a sort of Fran Drescher type. A couple of former students were in the company, and they are really quite talented dancers. The staging was, as always, interesting, and I thought the way the musical played with the conventions and expectations of musical theater was clever. Still, I can't believe it took more than 44 years for me to lose my Pippin virginity. They say you never forget your first time, but sadly, sometimes the first time isn't all that memorable.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Life's Little Ironies, Part I
In order to have the energy to go to the gym, you have to go to the gym.
The Second Time Around
It took me two times to see No Country for Old Men all the way through. I wanted to watch it all in one sitting, don't get me wrong. I was actually completely engrossed in the movie during the first screening of it that I attended. And it had almost gotten to the final 15-20 minutes that everyone has been talking about in terms of how confusing they are, and I was becoming increasing fascinated as to how the filmmakers would resolve some of the issues in the plot. That's when it happened.
I went to see No Country for Old Men at the Arclight. I know I've talked elsewhere about my distaste for other moviegoers. Since I've been going only to the Arclight or to the Landmark (both feature reserved seating), I've had almost no reason to complain. That is, until last Sunday, the day before Presidents Day, the last Monday holiday we'll see for a while at school. I had decided that I would try to catch up a bit on my moviegoing experiences, and since I was doing The Oscar Project on my other blog, it was time to see the Coen brothers' movie. It wasn't too crowded, being early Sunday morning and all, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be impediments. If you've seen the film, we had made it to the part where Tommy Lee Jones's sheriff is sitting on the bed in the motel room when the film stopped. Just stopped. Black screen. No sound. Then lights started flashing, and alarms started to sound. I've been through enough emergency drills to know when it's time to evacuate, so I got my jacket off the seat next to me and walked to the lobby upstairs along with several hundred of my closest friends from all of the other screening rooms. We were then hustled outside where, thankfully, it was not raining for once. After about half an hour, ushers appeared with complimentary tickets for future screenings. I took mine, paid for my parking, and left feeling very disgruntled. I realize there was no point in staying. The fire engines were there, the "fire" was apparently put out in the kitchen, but the firefighters had to inspect every single screening room (and other rooms) to be sure before anyone could have been let back in. The next screenings would have started by then (although I suspect they too were delayed or canceled).
I managed to return the following day, Presidents Day itself, and used one of my complimentary tickets to find the exact same seat that I was in the day before. This time I watched just as intently (it's a very engrossing film, I tell you) until the scene began that had been interrupted. I looked at my watch to check the time remaining. Nothing happened. The film continued on, and I got to see all of the rest of what the Coen brothers had created.
I tell this story only because it illustrates just what a true movie lover might do. I would have been willing to wait that Sunday if the folks at Arclight would have only guaranteed us that we could have seen the end of our movie. I would have returned the next day just to watch the final 15-20 minutes by themselves if I had been allowed to do only that. Instead, I watched the entire thing all over again, just because I love movies that much and wanted to see how it ended.
This is not my first encounter with such problems in a theater, by the way. The first time a screening was interrupted by outside forces was back in 1978. I had gone to see Death on the Nile with my grandparents during some Christmas shopping in Alabama. I always loved the Agatha Christie mysteries, and I always enjoyed the film adaptations of them too. Just as Hercule Poirot (played by the grand Peter Ustinov) had assembled the potential suspects and was in the process of explaining how he had deduced the identity of the real killer (you know how he does that if you've seen any one of the films), all of the power went off. Seems like a thunderstorm had knocked out all of the electricity in the area. The people at the theater were nice enough to offer us free tickets to return another day to see the film again (or some other film), but no one in the theater--not even my elderly grandparents--took them up on their offer. We just wanted to find out who the killer was, so we all stayed until the power came back on about 45 minutes later. We ran from the lobby back into the theater, and they restarted the film a few minutes before the part we had seen before. Nice of them to do that. Satisfying, really.
I should admit that I've had the opposite reaction as well. My mother and I went to see A Fish Called Wanda in 1988. There was a big storm that night too, and we were left in the dark before that movie ended as well. However, this time when we were offered free tickets, we took them and went to get some dinner. I think there was also pie involved. I don't know how long after that it was before I found out how that movie ended. Needless to say, it wasn't quite as fascinating to me as Death on the Nile or No Country for Old Men.
Lest you think it's only the endings of movies that are ruined for me when something like this happens, I should tell you about going to see A Passage to India, that marvelous David Lean epic of 1984, still one of my favorites. This time, the film broke during the beginning of the screening, during the opening credits, to be exact. What we missed was the scene with Judy Davis as Miss Quested buying her ticket to India and seeing a drawing of the caves which will play such a significant part in the film later on. Now, that wouldn't seem to be such a big deal to have missed such a small moment early in a movie, but one of the its great themes is first raised there. I recall taking a Film and Literature class the following semester and having the professor ask if anyone had seen A Passage to India during the one week that it played in Starkville. I raised my hand, alone, apparently, in my love of Forster novels and Lean films. When the professor asked me about the opening scene, I was, of course, unable to answer. You can never really know what the consquences of an event might be, can you?
Here's to no more interruptions in the moviegoing experience, whether at the beginning, middle, or end.
I went to see No Country for Old Men at the Arclight. I know I've talked elsewhere about my distaste for other moviegoers. Since I've been going only to the Arclight or to the Landmark (both feature reserved seating), I've had almost no reason to complain. That is, until last Sunday, the day before Presidents Day, the last Monday holiday we'll see for a while at school. I had decided that I would try to catch up a bit on my moviegoing experiences, and since I was doing The Oscar Project on my other blog, it was time to see the Coen brothers' movie. It wasn't too crowded, being early Sunday morning and all, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be impediments. If you've seen the film, we had made it to the part where Tommy Lee Jones's sheriff is sitting on the bed in the motel room when the film stopped. Just stopped. Black screen. No sound. Then lights started flashing, and alarms started to sound. I've been through enough emergency drills to know when it's time to evacuate, so I got my jacket off the seat next to me and walked to the lobby upstairs along with several hundred of my closest friends from all of the other screening rooms. We were then hustled outside where, thankfully, it was not raining for once. After about half an hour, ushers appeared with complimentary tickets for future screenings. I took mine, paid for my parking, and left feeling very disgruntled. I realize there was no point in staying. The fire engines were there, the "fire" was apparently put out in the kitchen, but the firefighters had to inspect every single screening room (and other rooms) to be sure before anyone could have been let back in. The next screenings would have started by then (although I suspect they too were delayed or canceled).
I managed to return the following day, Presidents Day itself, and used one of my complimentary tickets to find the exact same seat that I was in the day before. This time I watched just as intently (it's a very engrossing film, I tell you) until the scene began that had been interrupted. I looked at my watch to check the time remaining. Nothing happened. The film continued on, and I got to see all of the rest of what the Coen brothers had created.
I tell this story only because it illustrates just what a true movie lover might do. I would have been willing to wait that Sunday if the folks at Arclight would have only guaranteed us that we could have seen the end of our movie. I would have returned the next day just to watch the final 15-20 minutes by themselves if I had been allowed to do only that. Instead, I watched the entire thing all over again, just because I love movies that much and wanted to see how it ended.
This is not my first encounter with such problems in a theater, by the way. The first time a screening was interrupted by outside forces was back in 1978. I had gone to see Death on the Nile with my grandparents during some Christmas shopping in Alabama. I always loved the Agatha Christie mysteries, and I always enjoyed the film adaptations of them too. Just as Hercule Poirot (played by the grand Peter Ustinov) had assembled the potential suspects and was in the process of explaining how he had deduced the identity of the real killer (you know how he does that if you've seen any one of the films), all of the power went off. Seems like a thunderstorm had knocked out all of the electricity in the area. The people at the theater were nice enough to offer us free tickets to return another day to see the film again (or some other film), but no one in the theater--not even my elderly grandparents--took them up on their offer. We just wanted to find out who the killer was, so we all stayed until the power came back on about 45 minutes later. We ran from the lobby back into the theater, and they restarted the film a few minutes before the part we had seen before. Nice of them to do that. Satisfying, really.
I should admit that I've had the opposite reaction as well. My mother and I went to see A Fish Called Wanda in 1988. There was a big storm that night too, and we were left in the dark before that movie ended as well. However, this time when we were offered free tickets, we took them and went to get some dinner. I think there was also pie involved. I don't know how long after that it was before I found out how that movie ended. Needless to say, it wasn't quite as fascinating to me as Death on the Nile or No Country for Old Men.
Lest you think it's only the endings of movies that are ruined for me when something like this happens, I should tell you about going to see A Passage to India, that marvelous David Lean epic of 1984, still one of my favorites. This time, the film broke during the beginning of the screening, during the opening credits, to be exact. What we missed was the scene with Judy Davis as Miss Quested buying her ticket to India and seeing a drawing of the caves which will play such a significant part in the film later on. Now, that wouldn't seem to be such a big deal to have missed such a small moment early in a movie, but one of the its great themes is first raised there. I recall taking a Film and Literature class the following semester and having the professor ask if anyone had seen A Passage to India during the one week that it played in Starkville. I raised my hand, alone, apparently, in my love of Forster novels and Lean films. When the professor asked me about the opening scene, I was, of course, unable to answer. You can never really know what the consquences of an event might be, can you?
Here's to no more interruptions in the moviegoing experience, whether at the beginning, middle, or end.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Too Soon
Yesterday I went to see Michael Clayton at the Arclight in Hollywood. (Yes, I guess it is worth $12 a ticket plus $2 in parking to avoid the rabble; this was a much better movie-going experience than I had last week.) The usher introduced the film as two hours of George Clooney, which it is. (Someday, I have to write a blog about the Arclight ushers.) However, before the film itself began, we in the audience had to watch half a dozen trailers. The first one disturbed me so much that I still haven't quite come to terms with it.
It's for the film The Dark Knight, the latest Batman movie. The movie doesn't open until this summer, but the trailers are already on the screens. Thankfully, I haven't seen one on television yet, but can it be long before that happens too? I did see Batman Begins, the first of the series to feature Christian Bale as the title hero. However, what sets this new film apart from the rest is the actor playing the main villain. It's Heath Ledger as the Joker.
Now, perhaps it's a coincidence that the trailer was shown the same week as Ledger's funeral in Australia and just one day after the release of the toxicology report that led to a ruling of accidental overdose in his recent death. But I couldn't help but think this was an attempt by Warner Brothers to capitalize on the news coverage, to get themselves some publicity while one of the actors was being discussed so much. There's no pressing reason to advertise a film in February that isn't scheduled to open until July. Couldn't the studio have waited, say, another month before starting to show advertisements for it? I hope that I'm wrong because I don't want to believe that a studio could be so uncaring about the feelings of the Ledger family, so unsympathetic even to the feelings of the moviegoing public who perhaps haven't yet come to terms with the young actor's sad death. As little as I often like the studio system nowadays, I don't want that to be the case. But the trailer is an intriguing one. The image of Ledger in his Joker make-up is withheld for a long time, building the suspense for the revealing of his face. It makes me a little suspicious that it's been edited that way.
Maybe it's just too soon to be seeing Ledger in his final performance as an actor. I'm certain the reviews are all going to mention his death. I almost wish the studio would pull the film and reshoot it with someone else in the part. I know that isn't financially sound advice, but it seems that the release of the film is likely to engender a couple of expected responses: people who are going out of some sort of morbid fascination to see the performance "that killed him" or people who are upset with the studio for exploiting the death of an actor in order to make more profits. I think you can tell which camp I am in at this point.
It's for the film The Dark Knight, the latest Batman movie. The movie doesn't open until this summer, but the trailers are already on the screens. Thankfully, I haven't seen one on television yet, but can it be long before that happens too? I did see Batman Begins, the first of the series to feature Christian Bale as the title hero. However, what sets this new film apart from the rest is the actor playing the main villain. It's Heath Ledger as the Joker.
Now, perhaps it's a coincidence that the trailer was shown the same week as Ledger's funeral in Australia and just one day after the release of the toxicology report that led to a ruling of accidental overdose in his recent death. But I couldn't help but think this was an attempt by Warner Brothers to capitalize on the news coverage, to get themselves some publicity while one of the actors was being discussed so much. There's no pressing reason to advertise a film in February that isn't scheduled to open until July. Couldn't the studio have waited, say, another month before starting to show advertisements for it? I hope that I'm wrong because I don't want to believe that a studio could be so uncaring about the feelings of the Ledger family, so unsympathetic even to the feelings of the moviegoing public who perhaps haven't yet come to terms with the young actor's sad death. As little as I often like the studio system nowadays, I don't want that to be the case. But the trailer is an intriguing one. The image of Ledger in his Joker make-up is withheld for a long time, building the suspense for the revealing of his face. It makes me a little suspicious that it's been edited that way.
Maybe it's just too soon to be seeing Ledger in his final performance as an actor. I'm certain the reviews are all going to mention his death. I almost wish the studio would pull the film and reshoot it with someone else in the part. I know that isn't financially sound advice, but it seems that the release of the film is likely to engender a couple of expected responses: people who are going out of some sort of morbid fascination to see the performance "that killed him" or people who are upset with the studio for exploiting the death of an actor in order to make more profits. I think you can tell which camp I am in at this point.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Going to the Movies
In recent years, I've seen an increasing number of articles on the decline in the number of movie tickets being sold. Fewer and fewer people, it seems, are venturing out to see films in the theaters. This, of course, is a cause of some concern, even though most films make most of their money on DVD sales and rentals anyway. Such concerns periodically spawn articles about what has led to this downward trend. Whenever I hear people discussing why movie attendance is down, I have to wonder if any of them have actually been to the movies lately. One trip to the local theater will give you all the insight you need as to why people might prefer to stay home and watch movies on TV or DVD instead.
I went to see There Will Be Blood this afternoon, sort of my alternative programming for the Super Bowl. Thinking that most people who want to see it had already done so, I confidently waited until almost the last minute to leave the apartment and make the walk to the Grove. The ticket was still under 10 dollars, a minor miracle in Los Angeles these days. (Check out the peak time prices now. I can recall paying $2.50 for movies when I was growing up. Am I really that old?) I walked to the theater where the movie was screening to discover that with five minutes left before the film began, almost every seat was taken. Yes, almost every one, certainly every one in the upper tier. I wound up in the second row all the way on the left side of the screen. That's a bit close for my taste, and my neck is going to pay the price for it tomorrow, I'm sure. I haven't sat so close to the screen since an ill-fated attempt to watch Honeymoon in Vegas many years ago with my mother, my brother, and his then-girlfriend. Thankfully, There Will Be Blood is a better movie and holds your attention even if you might be a bit too close.
After I found my seat, then the fun truly began. Others came late to the theater as well, and after giving up on finding a seat elsewhere in the room, they came to my row. I had no fewer than five people attempt to sit next to me at various times during the previews. After a few seconds or minutes, most got up and went to find somewhere else to sit (where, I have no idea), muttering about "being too close." Finally, someone parked in the seat and stayed there. He was not, unfortunately, alone. He had brought with him a large bag of popcorn, which he proceeded to munch throughout much of the 2 hour, 39 minute movie. I guess you don't want to eat all of your goodies during the previews. That wouldn't allow you to annoy the people sitting around you during the particularly quiet scenes of the movie (like the first 15 minutes of There Will Be Blood, which are wordless). He was probably the same guy who sat behind me years ago when I went to see Mimic (a truly stupid movie); that popcorn muncher was so loud, I actually checked my watch to see how long he had been eating (1 hour, 25 minutes, if you're interested, and that's constant chewing, by the way).
Then, 25 minutes after the movie had started (yes, the actual movie, not the trailers), a family arrived to sit in the front row. Seven of them. The youngest might have been 6? The oldest child might have been 12? Once again, I began to wonder about the parenting skills of moviegoers. It reminded me of the time I saw Pulp Fiction in Burbank, and a mother brought her three daughters (the youngest one might have been 6 as well, and the oldest wasn't even 12, I don't think). Do people not pay attention to movie ratings at all any more? Who wants to take young children to a movie with as much violence as There Will Be Blood? Have they not even read the title of the movie? Have all of the torture porn movies (Saw, Hostel, etc.) sold out? Of course, this being a somewhat intellectual movie, the children got bored very quickly. They didn't seem to be too intrigued by the acting or cinematography or the movie's examination of religious fanaticism or anything having to do with the movie, really. They proceeded to walk around the front of the theater or to walk in and out of the theater to buy more food. I was pretty sick of the smell of hot dogs by the end of the film.
I don't even know how to begin on the topic of cell phones. Three of them went off during the movie. Three of them. Shouldn't the owners of the second and third ones have taken a hint from the first one? I keep my cell phone turned on silent or turned off almost all of the time. Perhaps I'm not as important as these people who can't afford to take a couple of hours of free time on a Sunday afternoon. No, they need to be tethered to the outside world, even though they're in a movie theater. At least, no one answered the phone and started talking. (Yes, that really happened once when I was at a screening in Century City. The woman told her friend about everything that was going on in the film. Several of us had her removed by the usher because she wouldn't stop talking.) And if people weren't letting their cell phones ring, they kept opening their phones to check the time. Doesn't anyone wear a watch any more? Do the rest of us need to have the blue glow of your cell phone distracting us from the movie? Are you really that bored? Why don't you just leave if you are? At least, no one around me was texting someone else. (Oh, yes, happens all the time nowadays. I saw someone sending messages during a screening of Atonement recently.)
So I endured sitting in the second row, so close that I think I could feel Daniel Day-Lewis's mustache brush against me from time to time. I endured the high ticket prices and the hyperactive children and the cell phone lights and the popcorn stench and noise. I even managed to survive the inappropriate laughter that emanated at the oddest times. Some of the most serious dialogue got laughs. Go figure. I had no idea There Will Be Blood was a comedy. However, I almost didn't make it out of the theater without causing a scene. As the end credits began to roll and most of the other patrons ran for the door as if a fire had broken out, three women behind me decided to start a conversation. It was somewhat related to the film, but only tangentially and only at times. What was most intriguing was how, as the music that plays over the credits would swell, they would talk louder so as to be heard over the now-almost-deafening music. Is it just me or should you go outside if you're going to talk rather than watch the end credits? And if you're going to have to keep raising your voice because the movie is interfering with your conversation, maybe you shouldn't be in the movie? Naturally, they were oblivious to the other people around them who were still trying to pay attention. I gritted my teeth and walked out just before they did, thus avoiding the overwhelming need I had to point out their rude behavior.
I realize this is quite a rant and that you were probably unprepared for the depth of my outrage, but in recent years, I've gone to fewer and fewer movies in theaters. I used to love seeing films on the big screen. There really is no substitute for it. It's an experience that cannot be duplicated at home, no matter how big your television screen is. But each time I go nowadays, it seems there is some new indignity that is foisted upon me. People used to have manners when they went out in public, and I'm not seeing much evidence of that any more. I really don't relish the thought of having to pay Arclight prices each time I want to see a movie, but it does guarantee you a specific seat, and the people there do seem to be somewhat better behaved overall. What is a movie lover to do? Is it time to abandon going out to the movies?
I went to see There Will Be Blood this afternoon, sort of my alternative programming for the Super Bowl. Thinking that most people who want to see it had already done so, I confidently waited until almost the last minute to leave the apartment and make the walk to the Grove. The ticket was still under 10 dollars, a minor miracle in Los Angeles these days. (Check out the peak time prices now. I can recall paying $2.50 for movies when I was growing up. Am I really that old?) I walked to the theater where the movie was screening to discover that with five minutes left before the film began, almost every seat was taken. Yes, almost every one, certainly every one in the upper tier. I wound up in the second row all the way on the left side of the screen. That's a bit close for my taste, and my neck is going to pay the price for it tomorrow, I'm sure. I haven't sat so close to the screen since an ill-fated attempt to watch Honeymoon in Vegas many years ago with my mother, my brother, and his then-girlfriend. Thankfully, There Will Be Blood is a better movie and holds your attention even if you might be a bit too close.
After I found my seat, then the fun truly began. Others came late to the theater as well, and after giving up on finding a seat elsewhere in the room, they came to my row. I had no fewer than five people attempt to sit next to me at various times during the previews. After a few seconds or minutes, most got up and went to find somewhere else to sit (where, I have no idea), muttering about "being too close." Finally, someone parked in the seat and stayed there. He was not, unfortunately, alone. He had brought with him a large bag of popcorn, which he proceeded to munch throughout much of the 2 hour, 39 minute movie. I guess you don't want to eat all of your goodies during the previews. That wouldn't allow you to annoy the people sitting around you during the particularly quiet scenes of the movie (like the first 15 minutes of There Will Be Blood, which are wordless). He was probably the same guy who sat behind me years ago when I went to see Mimic (a truly stupid movie); that popcorn muncher was so loud, I actually checked my watch to see how long he had been eating (1 hour, 25 minutes, if you're interested, and that's constant chewing, by the way).
Then, 25 minutes after the movie had started (yes, the actual movie, not the trailers), a family arrived to sit in the front row. Seven of them. The youngest might have been 6? The oldest child might have been 12? Once again, I began to wonder about the parenting skills of moviegoers. It reminded me of the time I saw Pulp Fiction in Burbank, and a mother brought her three daughters (the youngest one might have been 6 as well, and the oldest wasn't even 12, I don't think). Do people not pay attention to movie ratings at all any more? Who wants to take young children to a movie with as much violence as There Will Be Blood? Have they not even read the title of the movie? Have all of the torture porn movies (Saw, Hostel, etc.) sold out? Of course, this being a somewhat intellectual movie, the children got bored very quickly. They didn't seem to be too intrigued by the acting or cinematography or the movie's examination of religious fanaticism or anything having to do with the movie, really. They proceeded to walk around the front of the theater or to walk in and out of the theater to buy more food. I was pretty sick of the smell of hot dogs by the end of the film.
I don't even know how to begin on the topic of cell phones. Three of them went off during the movie. Three of them. Shouldn't the owners of the second and third ones have taken a hint from the first one? I keep my cell phone turned on silent or turned off almost all of the time. Perhaps I'm not as important as these people who can't afford to take a couple of hours of free time on a Sunday afternoon. No, they need to be tethered to the outside world, even though they're in a movie theater. At least, no one answered the phone and started talking. (Yes, that really happened once when I was at a screening in Century City. The woman told her friend about everything that was going on in the film. Several of us had her removed by the usher because she wouldn't stop talking.) And if people weren't letting their cell phones ring, they kept opening their phones to check the time. Doesn't anyone wear a watch any more? Do the rest of us need to have the blue glow of your cell phone distracting us from the movie? Are you really that bored? Why don't you just leave if you are? At least, no one around me was texting someone else. (Oh, yes, happens all the time nowadays. I saw someone sending messages during a screening of Atonement recently.)
So I endured sitting in the second row, so close that I think I could feel Daniel Day-Lewis's mustache brush against me from time to time. I endured the high ticket prices and the hyperactive children and the cell phone lights and the popcorn stench and noise. I even managed to survive the inappropriate laughter that emanated at the oddest times. Some of the most serious dialogue got laughs. Go figure. I had no idea There Will Be Blood was a comedy. However, I almost didn't make it out of the theater without causing a scene. As the end credits began to roll and most of the other patrons ran for the door as if a fire had broken out, three women behind me decided to start a conversation. It was somewhat related to the film, but only tangentially and only at times. What was most intriguing was how, as the music that plays over the credits would swell, they would talk louder so as to be heard over the now-almost-deafening music. Is it just me or should you go outside if you're going to talk rather than watch the end credits? And if you're going to have to keep raising your voice because the movie is interfering with your conversation, maybe you shouldn't be in the movie? Naturally, they were oblivious to the other people around them who were still trying to pay attention. I gritted my teeth and walked out just before they did, thus avoiding the overwhelming need I had to point out their rude behavior.
I realize this is quite a rant and that you were probably unprepared for the depth of my outrage, but in recent years, I've gone to fewer and fewer movies in theaters. I used to love seeing films on the big screen. There really is no substitute for it. It's an experience that cannot be duplicated at home, no matter how big your television screen is. But each time I go nowadays, it seems there is some new indignity that is foisted upon me. People used to have manners when they went out in public, and I'm not seeing much evidence of that any more. I really don't relish the thought of having to pay Arclight prices each time I want to see a movie, but it does guarantee you a specific seat, and the people there do seem to be somewhat better behaved overall. What is a movie lover to do? Is it time to abandon going out to the movies?
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Taking Stock
During 2007, I went to see 58 movies in the theater (that includes quite a few at film festivals) and watched another 28 on DVD (it's been a slow year for me regarding DVDs--blame the DVR for that). I read 40 books (also a bit below my usual average), and I went to the theater to see 14 plays and musicals (such a sad, small number considering how much I love the theater). Here are some of the highlights of the year.
Favorite Movie: The Bubble. I first saw this film at Outfest in July. It's an Israeli film that follows a group of friends in Tel Aviv as they become increasingly more aware of and involved in the tensions between Israelis and Arabs in the Middle East. Two of the lead characters are gay, and one falls in love with a young Palestinian man he meets at a checkpoint. The film was directed by Eytan Fox, who's become one of my favorites in recent years, with this film, Walk on Water, and Yossi and Jagger. The Bubble is a touching story of how innocent in many ways we are when we are younger. The audience in the theater at the Directors Guild for the July screening sat in stunned silence at the end of the movie; it's that emotionally powerful.
Runner-Up: Zodiac. I don't think this film got as much attention as it deserved. Maybe it just got lost among the spring releases. The story behind the investigation of the Zodiac Killer in the Bay Area, it stars some amazing talent: Mark Ruffalo, Jake Gyllenhaal, Robert Downey Jr., Chloe Sevigny, and more. It's a very tense movie, and I don't think I can ever listen to Donovan's "Hurdy Gurdy Man" again without feeling a chill. I think I responded so strongly to it because of my own background in newspapers. It's really an excellent movie about how stories are reported and how police investigate crimes. Fascinating procedural detail throughout. Rent it if you haven't seen it already.
Favorite Performance (Female): Marion Cotillard as Edith Piaf in La Vie en Rose. Wow. Cotillard attacks this role as if it were her own life she's portraying. I've never seen an actor inhabit a part so completely. She has the mannerisms and the look of Piaf so exactly. I remember being in tears as the end credits rolled, so overcome was I by her performance to "Non, je ne regrette rien." Yes, I know it's Piaf singing the song, but it's Cotillard who brings the song to life at the end of the movie and makes the lyrics so easy to understand in the context of what has come before. Her performance puts all of those other actors in the biopics of recent years to shame.
Runner-Up: Cate Blanchett as Elizabeth I in Elizabeth: The Golden Age. I haven't yet seen Blanchett's peformance as Jude Quinn/Bob Dylan in I'm Not There, but I wouldn't be surprised if it were one of my favorites too. With the exception of her performance as Katharine Hepburn in The Aviator (yeah, I know, but I just wasn't impressed with anything in that movie), Blanchett always manages to exhibit such intelligence in her acting. Here she's returning to a role she's already been acclaimed for (I wish they could have called it Elizabeth II: The Revenge, but I know that title wouldn't have worked historically), and she's perhaps even more convincing this time around. Whenever Blanchett is on the screen, she's the only person I can watch, and that's no small feat in a movie that also features Clive Owen. I still believe the members of the Academy (affectionately known sometimes as "the dinosaurs") gave her the Oscar for The Aviator because they thought it was actually Katharine Hepburn they were honoring again--and Frances Conroy, who plays Hepburn's mother, would have been fantastic as Hepburn herself had she not been too old at the time--but perhaps one of these days they'll find it in their hearts to award Blanchett an Oscar for a more deserving part.
Favorite Performance (Male): James McAvoy as Dr. Nicholas Garrigan in The Last King of Scotland. I know this movie was released last year, but I didn't see it until this February. And I know that Forest Whitaker got all of the attention for this movie due to his remarkable turn as the ruthless Idi Amin. Yet it's McAvoy's performance that stayed with me longer. He has to demonstrate more of a range of emotions than Whitaker does, and I think he's quite a compelling young actor. At times, you find him charming and funny, even sexy, and at other times, you become angry at his naivete and stubbornness and downright stupidity. He never seems to acknowledge his complicity in what's happening in Uganda, yet he retains, for me, at least, a sense of integrity. McAvoy's getting more attention now for Atonement, which I haven't seen yet, but he's been delivering good work for several years now. He's solid in Bright Young Things, which hardly anyone has seen; I admired him in a bit part as the faun in The Chronicles of Narnia; and I might even watch Becoming Jane again because of his performance (and that's saying a lot, considering how stupid I thought that movie was overall).
Runner-Up: Seth Rogan as Ben Stone in Knocked Up. Rogan's character in this movie is like so many guys we all know. He's full of self-deprecating humor, and he surrounds himself with guys who don't challenge him, who let him remain an adolescent at heart. But now and then he really does show you that there's a guy underneath all of that goofy exterior who's felt some pain and who's capable of genuine emotional depth. When Katherine Heigl's Alison asks him not to "fuck her over," his response that he's the kind of guy who "gets fucked over" is heart-wrenching. I know Rogan won't ever get much attention from any awards shows, but he's a good actor, and I felt empathy for his character throughout Knocked Up (perhaps even more than I felt for Heigl's character--no, I don't know why).
Favorite Play: Yellow Man. This is David Henry Hwang's play about the casting of the musical Miss Saigon, alleged Chinese spies, his relationship with his father, his relationships with women, authentic Asian identity, so many issues. It's complex and puzzling, filled with intricate plot points you need to remember. The cast was uniformly good, but the actor who played Hwang's surrogate self was never less than spellbinding. It's difficult to describe all of what happens during the couple of hours that this story unfolds, but it's the kind of play that you need to see with someone in order to discuss it afterward--and not because it was confusing, but because it embraces so many topics worthy of being discussed.
Runner-Up: The History Boys. I've already written about this play. You can just reread that posting if you're interested in finding out more about why I enjoyed it. Both it and Yellow Man are plays that make you think, and we certainly need more opportunities these days to think.
Favorite Musical: Avenue Q. How could I not love a musical that features puppet sex, monsters with porn addictions, and a song about schadenfreude? This elicited the most laughs I've had in the theater in a long time. I already owned the CD of the original Broadway cast recording, but nothing truly prepares you for the story that unfolds on the stage as you watch young people (and monsters) fresh out of college attempt to determine who they are and what they're going to be. As much as I love every appearance by Trekkie Monster, the funniest parts, for me, were the Bad Idea Bears. It's a shame no one has put clips of them on YouTube; they're hilarious, especially when they're tempting Princeton to take advantage of Kate's drunkenness. But it's all great. You'll probably leave the theater humming or singing along to "You're a Little Bit Racist." Don't stop yourself if you do; some of us will understand.
Favorite Book (Fiction Division): Letters to Montgomery Clift by Noel Alumit. I realize this book is a few years old, but I seldom get to read books when they are newly published anyway. Alumit is a gifted writer whom I got to see at a reading for his second novel, Talking to the Moon, this year. Letters to Montgomery Clift is about a gay Filipino boy who idolizes the movie star, turning to Clift whenever things go wrong in his life (and that's pretty often). As odd as it may sound in my description of it, this novel exhibits tremendous warmth and humor. I hated to put it down once I had started it.
Runners-Up: I've already mentioned in a previous blog the joy I felt in rereading those Pippi Longstocking books from my childhood. Another highlight would be getting reprints of the stories of the Legion of Super-Heroes. Yes, comic books. When I was growing up, the Legion was my favorite. It featured teenaged superheroes, each with at least one unique power. The stories of the Legion began in 1958 in a comic about Superboy. Someone at DC Comics had the bright idea to put all of the Legion tales together, chronologically without regard to where the stories first appeared, in a series of books, and I now own 12 volumes that end with stories from the mid-1970s, around the time that I stopped buying and reading comics. Sometimes, it is fun to go back and relive your childhood. I reread these stories again earlier this year, and I felt the same excitement that I did back when I was a 10-year-old kid who "wasted" (my grandmother's words) all of my allowance each week on stuff like comic books.
Favorite Book (Non-Fiction Division): Clara's Grand Tour by Glynis Ridley. This is the historical account of the travels of a rhinoceros throughout Europe in the 19th century, certainly an odd subject for a historian to tackle. Also not a new book, it's still a fascinating look at a tiny moment in history. I picked this one up at the Oudry exhibit at the Getty Center, which included a portrait of this rhino at actual size. It's an enormous painting (as were most of Oudry's works on display), and the story behind the animal that inspired the painting is just as intriguing. You get a full sense of Clara's life, from her being orphaned after her mother is killed by hunters to her being the object of attention by most of the rulers and a lot of the "common people" of Europe. There was an entire room at the exhibit devoted to various artworks inspired by Clara, and this book depicts why she was such a celebrity in the mid-1800s.
Highlight of the Year: Getting to see Rufus Wainwright in concert twice. I hate that I missed him last night at the Disney Concert Hall singing in French with Belinda Carlisle. That would have made a nice ending to the year. However, I did get to see him perform all of the songs from his CD Release the Stars and a few other favorites at the El Rey in the spring, and then in the fall, I saw him perform his tribute to Judy Garland at the Hollywood Bowl. I also have the CD of his Garland concert at Carnegie Hall (I have all of his CDs, just so you know) and the DVD of the Garland show at the London Palladium. Before I start back to work in a couple of weeks, I may have to relive a few moments with Rufus that I've managed to enjoy this year.
Favorite Movie: The Bubble. I first saw this film at Outfest in July. It's an Israeli film that follows a group of friends in Tel Aviv as they become increasingly more aware of and involved in the tensions between Israelis and Arabs in the Middle East. Two of the lead characters are gay, and one falls in love with a young Palestinian man he meets at a checkpoint. The film was directed by Eytan Fox, who's become one of my favorites in recent years, with this film, Walk on Water, and Yossi and Jagger. The Bubble is a touching story of how innocent in many ways we are when we are younger. The audience in the theater at the Directors Guild for the July screening sat in stunned silence at the end of the movie; it's that emotionally powerful.
Runner-Up: Zodiac. I don't think this film got as much attention as it deserved. Maybe it just got lost among the spring releases. The story behind the investigation of the Zodiac Killer in the Bay Area, it stars some amazing talent: Mark Ruffalo, Jake Gyllenhaal, Robert Downey Jr., Chloe Sevigny, and more. It's a very tense movie, and I don't think I can ever listen to Donovan's "Hurdy Gurdy Man" again without feeling a chill. I think I responded so strongly to it because of my own background in newspapers. It's really an excellent movie about how stories are reported and how police investigate crimes. Fascinating procedural detail throughout. Rent it if you haven't seen it already.
Favorite Performance (Female): Marion Cotillard as Edith Piaf in La Vie en Rose. Wow. Cotillard attacks this role as if it were her own life she's portraying. I've never seen an actor inhabit a part so completely. She has the mannerisms and the look of Piaf so exactly. I remember being in tears as the end credits rolled, so overcome was I by her performance to "Non, je ne regrette rien." Yes, I know it's Piaf singing the song, but it's Cotillard who brings the song to life at the end of the movie and makes the lyrics so easy to understand in the context of what has come before. Her performance puts all of those other actors in the biopics of recent years to shame.
Runner-Up: Cate Blanchett as Elizabeth I in Elizabeth: The Golden Age. I haven't yet seen Blanchett's peformance as Jude Quinn/Bob Dylan in I'm Not There, but I wouldn't be surprised if it were one of my favorites too. With the exception of her performance as Katharine Hepburn in The Aviator (yeah, I know, but I just wasn't impressed with anything in that movie), Blanchett always manages to exhibit such intelligence in her acting. Here she's returning to a role she's already been acclaimed for (I wish they could have called it Elizabeth II: The Revenge, but I know that title wouldn't have worked historically), and she's perhaps even more convincing this time around. Whenever Blanchett is on the screen, she's the only person I can watch, and that's no small feat in a movie that also features Clive Owen. I still believe the members of the Academy (affectionately known sometimes as "the dinosaurs") gave her the Oscar for The Aviator because they thought it was actually Katharine Hepburn they were honoring again--and Frances Conroy, who plays Hepburn's mother, would have been fantastic as Hepburn herself had she not been too old at the time--but perhaps one of these days they'll find it in their hearts to award Blanchett an Oscar for a more deserving part.
Favorite Performance (Male): James McAvoy as Dr. Nicholas Garrigan in The Last King of Scotland. I know this movie was released last year, but I didn't see it until this February. And I know that Forest Whitaker got all of the attention for this movie due to his remarkable turn as the ruthless Idi Amin. Yet it's McAvoy's performance that stayed with me longer. He has to demonstrate more of a range of emotions than Whitaker does, and I think he's quite a compelling young actor. At times, you find him charming and funny, even sexy, and at other times, you become angry at his naivete and stubbornness and downright stupidity. He never seems to acknowledge his complicity in what's happening in Uganda, yet he retains, for me, at least, a sense of integrity. McAvoy's getting more attention now for Atonement, which I haven't seen yet, but he's been delivering good work for several years now. He's solid in Bright Young Things, which hardly anyone has seen; I admired him in a bit part as the faun in The Chronicles of Narnia; and I might even watch Becoming Jane again because of his performance (and that's saying a lot, considering how stupid I thought that movie was overall).
Runner-Up: Seth Rogan as Ben Stone in Knocked Up. Rogan's character in this movie is like so many guys we all know. He's full of self-deprecating humor, and he surrounds himself with guys who don't challenge him, who let him remain an adolescent at heart. But now and then he really does show you that there's a guy underneath all of that goofy exterior who's felt some pain and who's capable of genuine emotional depth. When Katherine Heigl's Alison asks him not to "fuck her over," his response that he's the kind of guy who "gets fucked over" is heart-wrenching. I know Rogan won't ever get much attention from any awards shows, but he's a good actor, and I felt empathy for his character throughout Knocked Up (perhaps even more than I felt for Heigl's character--no, I don't know why).
Favorite Play: Yellow Man. This is David Henry Hwang's play about the casting of the musical Miss Saigon, alleged Chinese spies, his relationship with his father, his relationships with women, authentic Asian identity, so many issues. It's complex and puzzling, filled with intricate plot points you need to remember. The cast was uniformly good, but the actor who played Hwang's surrogate self was never less than spellbinding. It's difficult to describe all of what happens during the couple of hours that this story unfolds, but it's the kind of play that you need to see with someone in order to discuss it afterward--and not because it was confusing, but because it embraces so many topics worthy of being discussed.
Runner-Up: The History Boys. I've already written about this play. You can just reread that posting if you're interested in finding out more about why I enjoyed it. Both it and Yellow Man are plays that make you think, and we certainly need more opportunities these days to think.
Favorite Musical: Avenue Q. How could I not love a musical that features puppet sex, monsters with porn addictions, and a song about schadenfreude? This elicited the most laughs I've had in the theater in a long time. I already owned the CD of the original Broadway cast recording, but nothing truly prepares you for the story that unfolds on the stage as you watch young people (and monsters) fresh out of college attempt to determine who they are and what they're going to be. As much as I love every appearance by Trekkie Monster, the funniest parts, for me, were the Bad Idea Bears. It's a shame no one has put clips of them on YouTube; they're hilarious, especially when they're tempting Princeton to take advantage of Kate's drunkenness. But it's all great. You'll probably leave the theater humming or singing along to "You're a Little Bit Racist." Don't stop yourself if you do; some of us will understand.
Favorite Book (Fiction Division): Letters to Montgomery Clift by Noel Alumit. I realize this book is a few years old, but I seldom get to read books when they are newly published anyway. Alumit is a gifted writer whom I got to see at a reading for his second novel, Talking to the Moon, this year. Letters to Montgomery Clift is about a gay Filipino boy who idolizes the movie star, turning to Clift whenever things go wrong in his life (and that's pretty often). As odd as it may sound in my description of it, this novel exhibits tremendous warmth and humor. I hated to put it down once I had started it.
Runners-Up: I've already mentioned in a previous blog the joy I felt in rereading those Pippi Longstocking books from my childhood. Another highlight would be getting reprints of the stories of the Legion of Super-Heroes. Yes, comic books. When I was growing up, the Legion was my favorite. It featured teenaged superheroes, each with at least one unique power. The stories of the Legion began in 1958 in a comic about Superboy. Someone at DC Comics had the bright idea to put all of the Legion tales together, chronologically without regard to where the stories first appeared, in a series of books, and I now own 12 volumes that end with stories from the mid-1970s, around the time that I stopped buying and reading comics. Sometimes, it is fun to go back and relive your childhood. I reread these stories again earlier this year, and I felt the same excitement that I did back when I was a 10-year-old kid who "wasted" (my grandmother's words) all of my allowance each week on stuff like comic books.
Favorite Book (Non-Fiction Division): Clara's Grand Tour by Glynis Ridley. This is the historical account of the travels of a rhinoceros throughout Europe in the 19th century, certainly an odd subject for a historian to tackle. Also not a new book, it's still a fascinating look at a tiny moment in history. I picked this one up at the Oudry exhibit at the Getty Center, which included a portrait of this rhino at actual size. It's an enormous painting (as were most of Oudry's works on display), and the story behind the animal that inspired the painting is just as intriguing. You get a full sense of Clara's life, from her being orphaned after her mother is killed by hunters to her being the object of attention by most of the rulers and a lot of the "common people" of Europe. There was an entire room at the exhibit devoted to various artworks inspired by Clara, and this book depicts why she was such a celebrity in the mid-1800s.
Highlight of the Year: Getting to see Rufus Wainwright in concert twice. I hate that I missed him last night at the Disney Concert Hall singing in French with Belinda Carlisle. That would have made a nice ending to the year. However, I did get to see him perform all of the songs from his CD Release the Stars and a few other favorites at the El Rey in the spring, and then in the fall, I saw him perform his tribute to Judy Garland at the Hollywood Bowl. I also have the CD of his Garland concert at Carnegie Hall (I have all of his CDs, just so you know) and the DVD of the Garland show at the London Palladium. Before I start back to work in a couple of weeks, I may have to relive a few moments with Rufus that I've managed to enjoy this year.
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