Invictus

Invictus is a spare and noble film about the importance of and difficulty in achieving a measure of acceptance and even solidarity among people of different cultural and racial backgrounds. Set in South Africa in 1995, not long after the election of Nelson Mandela to be the first black president of that country, Invictus depicts the sharp divisions between whites and blacks at that time. Even though you expect to see a strong sense of unity by the end of the film--and you know you won't be disappointed--what director Clint Eastwood and stars Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon manage to achieve is nonetheless admirable and even enjoyable to watch. You might even, as I did, find yourself interested in the outcome of a rugby match upon which, seemingly, the fate of South African hinges.

Yes, that's right, rugby--a sport with which I am completely unfamiliar--is the means by which Freeman's Mandela plans to unite the blacks and whites of his country. He notices not longer after taking office that the national team, the Springboks, is automatically granted one of the spots for the World Cup of 1995 because South Africa is the host country. He attends a match and notices that only the whites seem to support the team. Blacks tend to favor soccer, a point illustrated at the beginning of the film when you watch a soccer match played by poor blacks and a rugby match played by rich whites on opposite sides of the road down which the newly freed Mandela is traveling. It's a somewhat heavy-handed way of displaying the sharp divides in the country, but I suppose you need a context for the brief history lesson that also opens the film.

Mandela, trying his best to get his country past the desire on the part of blacks for retribution and the fear on the part of whites of that same retribution, reaches out to the captain of the Springboks, Damon's Francois Pienaar, an Afrikaner (white), to assist him. He doesn't say that, of course. He only hints or suggests it. And Francois is somewhat uncertain as to how to get his less-than-stellar team to engender much of a following in the black community. There's only one black member of the team, Chester, who is something of a national hero. Pienaar, at the urging of Mandela, takes the team to a series of rugby clinics in the poor black townships. We watch some bonding between the guys on the team and the young blacks who come out to play. The team also makes a visit to the prison where Mandela was held captive for more than twenty years, and it's there that Pienaar seems to have his most profound epiphany.

That sequence is also where the film takes its one flight from realistic depictions of these events. Wherever he turns at the prison, Pienaar seems to see a shadowy image of Mandela and what his days there must have been like, whether being confined to his tiny cell or breaking rocks in the yard alongside the other prisoners. It's a bit disconcerting to watch these moments, given how much attention has been given to recreating the time period in realistic terms. However, it doesn't detract from the overall film's success, and it does provide a means for understanding the change of heart that Pienaar seems to have had about the destiny of the team and his home country.

Freeman, as you might expect, is excellent as Mandela. Although many have criticized his accent here, I think he manages to capture both the speech patterns and the mannerisms of the former South African president, and he achieves a much more difficult act of representation: the smile for which Mandela is so well known. It's as if he shines from within when he smiles, making it all the more interesting when you know the mistreatment that he suffered at the hands of the previous white-controlled government. Freeman never loses sight of the actual man; he just allows us to see just how fervently committed to a peaceful unity Mandela was. I can't imagine anyone else in the role, and frankly, I can't imagine that anyone else could do as good of a job.

When casting the part of a rugby team captain, Damon might not be the first person who comes to mind, but he acquits himself nicely here. Gone is his familiar Boston accent, replaced by a carefully controlled Afrikaner one instead. And, despite his role as a rugby player, Damon has to bring a level of gravitas to many of the scenes he plays. When he tells his team during the World Cup final match against New Zealand, "This is it. This is our destiny," you have to believe those words. They could easily devolve into cliche, but thanks to Damon's consistency throughout the film, they ring true.

The title Invictus comes from a Victorian era poem by William Ernest Henley. It's a relatively brief poem, just four stanzas, and it's one that Mandela memorized during his time in prison. He recites some of the key lines at one point in the movie, and he writes out a copy to give to Pienaard. The poem is about overcoming one's negative circumstances, about finding a sense of hope in a time of darkness. The last couple of lines, "I am the master of my fate:/I am the captain of my soul," served as a source of inspiration to Mandela, and he hopes the same fate will happen to Damon's Pienaar. I'm glad to see a movie use a poem as such a key plot point. It isn't a particularly good poem, but it's sentiment is honestly expressed.

I might say the same about Invictus. I think it earns its emotional resonance honestly. Thanks, at least in part, to the unobtrusive directing style for which Eastwood has become known, we are allowed to witness the events of the narrative without being manipulated too often or too heavily. There are no directorial flourishes here, just good, somewhat old-fashioned storytelling that gets to the heart of the racial divide in South Africa. At times, some of the white characters act in ways that suggest that they are still fearful or resentful of a black-led government, and at times, some of the black characters behave as if they feel the whites should all be punished. It doesn't make them into stereotypes or caricatures, though, because they are almost always balanced by another character (and it's usually Freeman's Mandela) who tries to restore a sense of balance. It's a tricky achievement to depict that, but one that Invictus manages to reach.

Nutty Neighbors: The Definition of Stupidity

A little context first. I live in one of the largest apartment complexes in the country (if not the world). We have more than 4,000 units here, and in my building alone, there are 156 apartments. If you figure that, on average, each apartment has two tenants--several have lots more than two--that means at least 300 people could be living in just this building. There are thousands of people who live within the several city blocks covered by this complex.

Beyond just lots of residents, though, we also have visitors and delivery persons and the mail carriers and people who leave fliers hanging on the doorknobs and no telling who else stopping by. Yes, there is a fence surrounding the property, but that's to keep cars out more than people. Anyone can walk into the complex without being stopped or questioned. It happens all the time.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I returned home one day this past week to find the following:



That's right. Godzilla and Hermey apparently leave a set of keys to the front door of her apartment under the tiny little doormat. The keys were just lying on the carpet in front of her door in the middle of the afternoon. Perhaps the maintenance workers for the building accidentally moved the mat while vacuuming or something. I don't know. I was just dumbstruck to see that someone could be so foolish as to leave a set of keys outside the apartment door, available to anyone who might want to use them. I'm surprised the neighbors haven't had every last possession stolen from them. Apparently, they want their friends to be able to enter the apartment at all hours of the day or night whether they are home or not.

Godzilla--or perhaps it's Hermey--has taken precautions since that fateful day last week. No longer are the keys just left under the mat for just anyone to find. No, now they are stuck to the bottom of the doormat. Again, I am just dumbfounded by the lunacy of the neighbors.



I took the second picture because I had to see what had happened to the keys. I mistakenly assumed they'd put them on a key chain and keep them in a safe place after discovering how easily the location of the keys could be revealed. Not Godzilla and Hermey. You'd think that living in a city of several million people would make you a little more reluctant to do something as stupid as leaving the keys to your apartment under a doormat. Who does that nowadays?

I will admit to being torn emotionally when I saw the keys just lying on the carpet. I considered taking them and hiding them or throwing them down the garbage chute just to be spiteful. I didn't, though, so you can rest easy. My conscience go the better of me, I suppose. Momentarily, anyway. Of course, I don't think everyone would be as kind to Godzilla and Hermey as I was. One of these days, if they aren't careful, one of their "friends" or perhaps even a stranger may avail himself or herself of the opportunity to go on a "shopping spree," and maybe then they'll learn that grown-ups have better sense than to leave keys under doormats in a large apartment complex in the middle of a huge metropolitan area.

Quick Takes 3: Dream Warriors

At this time of year, it's tough to sort through the movies I've seen. Some of them will undoubtedly be nominated for the Best Picture Oscar, especially now that the list has been expanded to include ten films. Those films should really be "saved" for my other blog, so I'm going to discuss films I've seen recently that stand little chance of making it to the final ten in this year's race. I'm not suggesting that they are not worthy films--several of them are exceptional--merely that they don't seem to be generating the kind of "buzz" that gets a movie nominated for the top honor.


Bright Star is the fictional rendering of the love affair between the English Romantic poet John Keats and a remarkable young woman named Fanny Brawne. Keats is already sick with the tuberculosis that will cut his life short, but he cannot stop from developing feelings for the extraordinary Fanny. As played by the gifted Abbie Cornish, Fanny is a strong woman possessed of a keen intellect and a talent for making herself into an artistic creation through her needlework. Directed by Jane Campion, Bright Star deserved greater attention than it received, and if there were any justice, Cornish would be nominated for Best Actress (and deservedly win) for her portrayal of a woman who has to come to terms with the potential loss of the love of her life. Kudos also to Ben Whishaw, who was also good in the completely unnecessary remake of Brideshead Revisited, as the doomed poet and to cinematographer Greig Fraser. Bright Star is simply one of the most beautiful films of the past decade thanks to Fraser's camera work. I will never forget some of the visuals of this film, including a field of lavender flowers and a moment when Fanny lies on her bed allowing curtains to billow over her body--extraordinary moments in a great movie.


The Messenger takes as its subject the difficult work of informing family members of the death of a loved one in the military. It's a serious movie about a formidable task, one that you'd expect few soldiers want to have. Ben Foster stars as Staff Sergeant Will Montgomery, who has been injured in Iraq and is now assigned to work with Woody Harrelson's Captain Tony Stone delivering the bad news to the next of kin. We watch as Montgomery slows learns the nuances of the job and even becomes skilled at going around the military's protocol when dealing with the grieving parents and wives and other family members with whom he and Stone come into contact. He also develops a genuine affection for a young widow played by Samantha Morton, and their friendship almost becomes too much for both of them. It could have been played for cheap emotions, but thanks to a solid script and talented actors, viewers instead sense a tender connection between two lonely people. Anchored by three strong performances, especially the luminous Morton, The Messenger is a complex study of the emotional impact that the current war can have on the people back home.


I found Sherlock Holmes to be typical blockbuster fare, and that's too bad. The potential was there with the inspired pairing of Robert Downey Jr. as Sherlock Holmes and Jude Law as Watson, and perhaps the best part of the movie is their verbal sparring, especially when they are squabbling over such matters as the cleanliness of Holmes' rooms in the house they share. However, the plot seemed unnecessarily complicated, maybe in an attempt to get the crowd to stay until the end of the film so that Holmes could explain all of the connections that we could never have made ourselves, thanks to the stinginess of the script. The stories by Arthur Conan Doyle were frequently action-oriented, but they also had a cerebral quality to them with Holmes figuring out clues and piecing together motives. The movie version goes almost exclusively for action, with one big, expensive sequence after another. Having read "A Scandal in Bohemia," the Holmes story that includes the character of Irene Adler and how she outsmarted Holmes once, I had hoped that more could be done with the character being played here by Rachel McAdams. No such luck, though, because she's really secondary to a plot about a cult of magician types led by Mark Strong's Lord Blackwood. This film really is a mess, but at least, we know there will be a sequel, so maybe there's a chance at redemption yet.


A Single Man has justly received praise for the performance of Colin Firth as George, the college professor attempting to come to terms with the death of his long-time partner. Firth is a revelation here, particularly in the scene where he learns of Jim's death in a car accident and that the family doesn't wish him to attend to funeral. Taking place over a single day in George's life, a rather fateful day when he has chosen to commit suicide, A Single Man does a nice job of evoking the mood of the early 1960s when then film is set, but I did feel director Tom Ford was a bit too obsessed with the appearances of everything, actors included. There's a hypersheen to the visuals that makes them seem somewhat unrealistic, especially in the black-and-white sequences that serve as flashbacks for moments of Tom and George's life together. And I never quite understood what Ford was trying to accomplish with all of the images of eyes that appear throughout the film; I'm sure there's meant to be some symbolic weight to them all, but I couldn't figure it out thanks to how numerous and seemingly random they were. It was a delight to see Julianne Moore as Charley, George's long-time friend, an aging party girl who wishes he were attracted to her. It makes me want to see her and Firth in movies more often, just ones that are less concerned with how people look and more interested in how they think and feel.


The Young Victoria is a visual feast of a movie. It concerns the early years of the reign of Queen Victoria of England, when she was little more than a teenager. As played by Emily Blunt, Victoria is inexperienced but clever, a very fast learner in the ways of the monarchy. She meets a Belgian prince, Albert (played by Rupert Friend), and begins to fall in love with him. However, her mother (Miranda Richardson) and her mother's chief advisor (Mark Strong again, cornering the market on English baddies for the Christmas season) have other plans for her future. She also has to face conflicting political advice from such men as Paul Bettany's Lord Melbourne and Michael Maloney's Sir Robert Peel, the two prime ministers who serve during the start of her historic reign, still the longest in English history. However, the political intrigue tends to become of secondary importance when Victoria and Albert begin to express how they feel for each other. Blunt and Friend are very good together. They have a very natural chemistry, and the film does a fine job of depicting the strength of the bond Victoria and Albert had for each other. This is another film that has been sadly underrated. Perhaps moviegoers are just not interested in historical dramas these days unless there are going to be some explosions along the way? That would be very sad if it were true.

I'm pleasantly surprised by how many good performances I saw in the last couple of months. It's an impressive list just from the five movies described above: Abbie Cornish, Ben Whishaw, Ben Foster, Woody Harrelson, Samantha Morton, Jude Law, Robert Downey Jr., Colin Firth, Julianne Moore, Emily Blunt, and Rupert Friend. Heck, I'll even add Mark Strong to the list; he's actually guite good as a bad guy, and I enjoyed the gusto with which he portrayed Holmes's nemesis. And that doesn't even include a lot of supporting cast members such as the children in Bright Star, especially Edie Martin as Toots, Matthew Goode as Jim in the too-few scenes in which he appears in A Single Man, and Jim Broadbent as King William and Harriet Walter as Queen Adelaide (and Richardson, too, as the Duchess of Kent) in The Young Victoria. Great performances, all of them.

Taking Stock: 2009

Last year was a better year for movies and movie-watching for me. I managed to see 49films in the theaters in 2009, almost double the number I saw in 2008. I caught another dozen movies on DVD, but most of them were older films, not new releases. I read fewer books this past year, just 38, compared to the 43 I read in 2008, but to be honest, a lot of the books for 2009 were longer and took a far greater amount of time to read. One doesn't just skim through Arthur Laurents' Original Story by in a hurry. I even got out of the house to see fifteen plays or musicals this past year, and I was lucky enough to perform in a play as well. Here's hoping that 2010 brings even more opportunities to read and watch and enjoy.

Favorite Movie: Inglourious Basterds. Does anyone have more fun thinking up ideas for movies and then executing them than Quentin Tarentino? A wildly imaginative piece of speculative fiction, Inglourious Basterds leads us to wonder what would have happened had a band of Jewish-American soldiers (under the leadership of Brad Pitt in a hilarious, loopy performance) decided to take revenge for the Nazi atrocities during World War II and killed Hitler at a screening of a terrible propaganda film. Anchored by the astonishing performance of Christoph Waltz as Col. Hans Landa, and for whom there has been universal praise, this film managed to divide audiences, but I still don't think there's anyone as talented and audacious as Tarentino working in movies today. I just wish he worked more often so we could get more movies like this.

Runner-Up: Adventureland. This is a small movie about a young man who spends his summer working at a local amusement park, falling in love and having a lot of those "first time" experiences. The trailer for the film made it seem like it was some sort of fraternity-boy comedy, but in truth, Adventureland is sweet and romantic and charming. It's a shame too few people went to see this movie. It only played in theaters for a short while during the spring. Maybe it was the fact that the movie is set in the late 1980s, and we're not ready to revisit that era yet. However, even though I was already a college graduate (twice) by that time, I found so many moments in the life of Jesse Eisenberg's James that resonated with my own experiences. It's worth renting to catch this gem.

P.S. I'd also like to mention how much I engjoyed getting a chance to see the short films, both animated and live action, that were nominated for Oscars for 2008. Someone had the bright idea to package them (and throw in a few more notable short films) and put them into theaters. I've written about all of these films on my other blog, but they provided some of my favorite moments in movie-watching last year. It takes real talent to compress a story into a few moments and have an impact, but the film makers of these shorts succeeded. I hope that this year's crop of nominees is similarly honored by being released for the movie-going public to enjoy.

Favorite Performance (Female): Abbie Cornish in Bright Star. Cornish plays Fanny Brawne, the young woman with whom English Romantic poet John Keats fell in love. If the real Fanny were anything like Cornish's performance, you can understand why. She's luminous and quite understated as an actress, allowing you to see glimpses of how she has internalized her emotions. Watching Fanny convey her talent through her sewing and then seeing her learn to understand and appreciate Keats' poems are both revelatory moments in Cornish's hands. She is ably surrounded by wonderful actors, including Ben Whishaw as Keats, but if you had the chance to experience this beautiful but sadly underseen film by the great Jane Campion, you won't quickly forget Cornish. She gives one of the best performances of the past decade, in my opinion.

Runner-Up: Gabourey Sibide and Mo'Nique in Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire. The title is ridiculously long (and kind of ridiculous), but the performances are first rate. Mo'Nique has justly been lauded for her work as one of the darkest characters in recent film history. She's a heartless, opportunistic, scheming woman who seems to feel no pleasure or joy in life. Her last scene in the film reveals a monstrous personality; I don't know how anyone could pull it off as well as she does. I do think Sibide is her equal here even though she has the quieter role. She has to portray a victim of abuse, yet we also need to see just how much spirit she manages to keep inside her despite the constant ridicule of her own mother and the ways that society seems to be against her. Both women are amazing to watch together. Their scenes have a vitality and energy and even a sense of fear and tension that you don't see in the movies enough these days.

Favorite Performance (Male): Joseph Gordon-Levitt in (500) Days of Summer. Who knew when we were watching Gordon-Levitt years ago on Third Rock from the Sun that we were witnessing the start of a great career? Gordon-Levitt has been stunningly good in movies as diverse as Mysterious Skin and Brick. Now he adds this charming little movie to his resume. He plays a young architect stuck in the wrong job and in love with what turns out to be the wrong girl. Gordon-Levitt's part is the best written in the movie, which is more than a little unkind to its lead female character, and he makes us empathize with all of the ups and downs that his character faces. And you have to love the expression on his face during the musical number choreographed to a Hall & Oates song. It does a fantastic job of capturing how it feels the morning after your first time with someone.

Runners-Up: Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna in Rudo y Cursi. Reunited years after their hit Y Tu Mama Tambien, Bernal and Luna here play brothers who are recruited to play professional soccer but on different teams. The film gives almost equal time to each actor, and they are both good as they reveal how emotions like familial love and professional (and personal) jealousy can drive people to engage in some stupid behavior at times. These two brothers try to support each other, but they just can't help but become selfish at times too. This movie was little seen in the United States, but it deserves attention for the performances by these two fine young actors.

P.S. I'd also like to note the astounding work by Jeremy Renner in The Hurt Locker. As a man who can't seem to live without the thrill of his high-pressure job of dismantling bombs, Renner taps into the rage and sadness of a generation of soldiers. It's a stunning movie and a great performance by him in the lead.

Favorite Play: Leslie Jordan: Full of Gin & Regret. This performance consisted primarily of Jordan and a microphone and a bare stage. But when you have the stories to tell that Jordan does, you don't need more than that. Best known for his work on Will & Grace or his role as Brother Boy in Sordid Lives, Jordan has several decades' worth of material on the entertainment industry, his Southern family, even his love life, and it's always a pleasure to travel down memory lane with him. His stories are not always for the faint of heart, as even he would admit, but his personality and charm make you want to listen.

Favorite Musical: Monty Python's Spamalot. This touring company production of the Broadway show managed to capture all of the silliness of the movie upon which it is based and to send up the whole genre of musical theater while it does so. John O'Hurley, best known for his work on Seinfeld and on the American version of Dancing with the Stars, made a wonderful King Arthur, and he received able help from the supporting cast, particularly Merle Dandridge as The Lady of the Lake. I loved her song "The Diva's Lament" about how long it's been in the show since she was featured. I don't know that you'll necessarily sing the songs after you leave the theater, but you'll probably be humming "The Song That Goes Like This" for a few days afterward.

Runner-Up: Guys and Dolls. This was a production done by my college, which has a remarkable Theater Arts Department. They took a musical that has been done many times, including a movie version, and made it entertaining and dazzling and fun. Kudos, in particular, to the male chorus of the show. Their singing and dancing got the loudest applause of the evening and deservedly so. And the performance by Ryan A. Coon as Nicely-Nicely Johnson, especially his rendition of "Sit Down, You're Rockin' the Boat," was a showstopper.

Favorite Books (Fiction): Rainbow Boys, Rainbow High, and Rainbow Road by Alex Sanchez. This trio of books follows the adventures of three gay high school boys as they come to terms with their sexuality. Two of the boys fall in love with each other--the romance is handled with great tenderness and sweetness--and the other one is initially jealous. However, he too manages to have a few romantic moments along the way. In one of the books, the boys take a cross-country trip that is really a journey into a greater understanding of the gay community and its culture and history. I wish I had had books like this when I was a teenager. I know Sanchez has said he only planned a trilogy involving his characters of Jason, Kyle, and Nelson, but I would like to know what happened to them in college and later in life. That's how engrossing these books are.

Favorite Book (Non-Fiction): The World without Us by Alan Weisman. Weisman takes on an interesting premise here: what would happen if the human population somehow disappeared from the Earth? Could the Earth recover, and how would it do so? He then talks to scientists and others who discuss sites around the world where nature seems to have regained control over what had been the domain of man. It's a fascinating read and an intriguing bit of speculative writing. He never spends too much time bogged down in the science of whatever issue he's discussing, but there's enough there to give you a sense, for example, of how a city of buildings would eventually collapse without the constant attention of humans. It's a compelling book about the ways in which we have damaged the Earth and how we might be able to restore it.

Favorite Book (Poetry): The World of the Ten Thousand Things by Charles Wright. Wright is from my part of the country, a Southerner by birth. He pays attention to details, and his descriptions of the landscape are so beautifully rendered. I hadn't read his book since it was assigned to me in college more than a decade ago. Oddly enough, I read it while at the University of Southern California, not Mississippi State University, despite its focus (at times) on Wright's home region. Reading this collection of poems again was like getting in touch with an old friend. Wright has moved beyond the subject matter of his regional roots, but his work is clearly still influenced by the sense of connectedness he learned while growing up in rural Tennessee.

Highlight of the Year: I had a blast seeing Barry Manilow at the Hollywood Bowl this fall with five dear friends. We sang along to all of his hits, and I had an opportunity to remember the last time I saw him perform live, 1977 at the Ravinia Arts Festival in Illinois. He's older now and doesn't dance around the stage quite as much, but he still puts on a spectacular show. I never had a chance to see him perform live during the intervening 30+ years and I stopped buying his records sometime in the mid-1980s, but it was such a thrill to get to hear him one more time. And I will likely never forget the sight of all those glowsticks with his name emblazoned on the side lighting up the hillside.

Runner-Up: I was invited to participate in a staged reading of The Laramie Project: Ten Years Later: An Epilogue in October, and despite not having performed on stage since my junior year in high school, I agreed. I was given three small parts with only a few lines each so, thankfully, I had no major blocks of dialogue to remember or perform. The play itself, a follow-up to the Tectonic Theatre Project's original production on the impact of the death of Matthew Shepard, is brilliant and emotional stuff. I had a chance to watch real actors going through the process of preparing for their roles, and I got to watch some astounding performances through the rehearsal process and then in the three actual productions we had on National Coming Out Day. I feel privileged to have been a part of what turned out to be something of a national phenomenon, with more than 100 productions throughout the United States on the same day, including one at Lincoln Center in New York. You don't get many chances like that in life, so it's best to take advantage of them when you do.

Random Notes on Rock and Roll

I finally had a chance to watch all of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 25th Anniversary Concert, a title that's almost as long as the show itself. It's been a busy fall, so I had to watch it several weeks after the show first aired in order to have a chance to sit through it all at once. It's mostly a tribute to artists who have been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and it was a treat to see some of the "older" rockers still performing.

For example, Jerry Lee Lewis started the concert by playing a version of "Great Balls of Fire." Lewis is quite old now, one of the very few survivors from the early years of rock and roll, but he still knows how to play the piano just as nimbly as he did back in the 1950s. What impressed me more, though, was how he ended his performance. Like the true badass that he is and always was, Lewis kicked over the piano bench and knocked it out of his way so that he could exit the stage. Had he been a guitar player instead of a piano player, I suspect he would have smashed a guitar.

The concert had several emotional moments as artists paid tribute to singers and plays who had passed away. There was a lovely version of "Here Comes the Sun" by Paul Simon, Graham Nash, and David Crosby in honor of George Harrison. And I was particularly touched by Stevie Wonder's tribute to Michael Jackson. Wonder sang a version of "The Way You Make Me Feel," and it was all he could do to get through the song. He teared up in the middle and couldn't make the words come to him. He eventually recovered, but it was a powerful reminder of the friendship the two men had had all those years ago at Motown Records and to how much we lost musically with Jackson's passing this year.

If you wanted to see the pure joy of performing with one of your idols, all you needed to do was watch the lead singer of Metallica, James Hetfield, singing along with Ozzy Osbourne. He wasn't singing into the microphone; he was just "mouthing" the words that Ozzy was singing, and he was having a blast doing it. Speaking of Metallica, who knew that they could be such a great back-up band to Ray Davies of the Kinks? Davies, who has long been estranged from his brother and the other members of his original band, should go on tour with Metallica. They could bring a heavy metal edge to some of the Kinks' great songs.

Most of the concert was taken up with intriguing pairings of artists, but none was better than when U2 brought out Bruce Springsteen and Patti Smith to sing "Because the Night." Springsteen and Smith co-wrote the song, and Smith popularized it, and it was an inspiring touch to have Bono and U2 join them in singing it. It was almost perfect harmony.

Speaking of harmony and estrangement, one of my favorite segments was the one "hosted" by Simon. He brought out Art Garfunkel, and the two of them sang several of their hits with the beautiful combination of voices they always had. It's a shame that artists like Simon & Garfunkel couldn't seem to get along well enough to maintain their careers together. Hell, even the members of the Eagles have managed to overcome their creative differences and tour together. I'd love to see another concert of Simon & Garfunkel singing "The Sounds of Silence" and "The Boxer" and "Bridge Over Troubled Water" like they did for this concert.

The most powerful political moment--and a welcome one it was--was the arrival of Annie Lennox of the Eurythmics to duet with Aretha Franklin. Franklin was adorned in one of her usual showstopping dresses, but Lennox was wearing a simple outfit that included a t-shirt that said "HIV Positive." Now, Lennox isn't HIV positive; she's wearing the shirt to call attention to the devastation that AIDS has brought to Africa and to remind us that we don't always know the status of our partners unless they choose to be honest with us. Rock and roll is political, and Lennox reminded us of that even at this august occasion. And she and Franklin totally brought down the house with their rendition of "Chain of Fools." So when does Lennox get inducted into the Hall of Fame?

There were lots of other favorite moments: the appearance of Little Anthony and the Imperials, still in fine voice after all these years; the segment hosted by Jeff Beck that was primarily devoted to himself and other guitar gods; and Springsteen, Tom Morello of Rage Against the Machine, and John Fogerty of Creedence Clearwater Revival playing with the E Street Band--magical stuff. Sam of Sam & Dave sang with Springsteen's band, as did Darlene Love. And then Billy Joel sang "New York State of Mind," one of his best songs. It was a powerhouse way to end the evening.

Watching all of these performers brought back a lot of memories of my high school and college years. Many of them have seen their heyday as top-selling artists come and go, but the drive to perform is still there. If Jerry Lee Lewis, who's 74, by the way, can still rock, so can the rest of us.

I have a few quibbles with the choices the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has made over the years. How exactly are the Staples Singers rock and roll? Or Madonna? Or ABBA, one of the inductees for 2010? How much of an influence, truly, were the Dave Clark Five? Or Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers? Or the Hollies, again one of the inductees for 2010? The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame bypassed KISS, the great Laura Nyro, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers in order to add ABBA and the Hollies next year. At least, the new inductees include the Stooges (with wild man Iggy Pop) and Jimmy Cliff, both deserving and long overdue. There was a call a few years ago by a rock journalist to start taking people out of the Hall of Fame because there were too many people he considered to be second-caliber talent being inducted. I wouldn't go that far, but I do wish the keepers of the hall would pay attention to their own concert. The stars performing that night are still shining, still performing, still worthy of our adulation. And they're still rock and roll to the core.

Nutty Neighbors: The Saga Continues

At 3 a.m., most of the building was awakened by the sound of a hammer pounding. Several of us yelled loudly, and the hammering stopped. Temporarily. After about ten minutes, it started up again. Then it would stop for a little while, only to start up again. Several of us called the security office to complain, but frankly, none of us were certain from where the sound was coming.

Well, that's not entirely true. I immediately suspected Godzilla. I checked to see if there were any lights on in her apartment, and there were, all in the back bedroom whose wall I share. I think she might have been putting together some presents or furniture or something, but why at 3 o'clock in the morning?

I'm not fond of confrontation, but I'm also not above it. When I knocked on her door, she opened only the peephole, so I still haven't seen what she looks like. I asked if she were the one hammering, and she replied that she wasn't. She said she thought I was the one making the noise. She then vowed to call security herself. I would like to note here that there was no more hammering after I confronted her about it.

By this point, it was almost 4 a.m., and I couldn't get back to sleep. I tossed and turned, but I just couldn't doze off again. Around 5:30 a.m., drawers in her walk-in closet were opened and shut (yes, you can hear them when they are slammed back into the wall), and a few minutes later, the charming sounds of her heels on the hardwood floor made their way to the front door.

I'm not trying to be accusatory, but Godzilla never gets up that early for work. That is more likely to be the time she goes to bed. Perhaps she was trying to get all of her stuff together so that she could go somewhere for Christmas? I hope so. It would be good to have her out of the apartment building for a few days. Maybe then we can all get some well-deserved sleep again.

Nutty Neighbors: Godzilla's Slippers

I apologize for how blurry the picture is, but I was trying to keep from getting caught. The shoes above belong to Godzilla, one of the losers, uh, neighbors next door. You may recall that we had a lot of rain in Los Angeles a couple of weekends ago. Well, sometimes when one is destroying Tokyo in a rainstorm, one gets mud on one's shoes. I opened the door to my apartment on Sunday morning to get the paper and saw a pair of slippers in the tiny, tiny space between our front doors, and that's when I grabbed the cell phone. Luckily, Godzilla doesn't tend to wake up early.

The night before this picture was taken had been a rough one, actually. Godzilla had spent most of the weekend hanging out with a group of friends led by a 25-year-old who thought he was quite the success story already. I know this because he proclaimed it loudly both inside Godzilla's apartment and then again in the hallway before they left for the evening on Friday. I'm not sure who it was that he was trying to convince.

They returned home at 2 a.m. or so on Saturday. I know this because they woke everyone in the apartment building up. Including her roommate, Warren (whose name I learned because they kept yelling it repeatedly). Warren was apparently distressed over something that had happened to Godzilla. Well, he said her face was "fucked up." I have no idea how. After some loud discussions back and forth--and repeated calls from other neighbors to shut up--and a few phone calls to the security guards--Godzilla and her Wunderkind took their argument outside. As in the front of the building. As in loud enough to be heard by everyone in the building. Thankfully, the security officers showed up quickly and quietened them down and sent Wunderkind on his way.

Wunderkind hasn't returned, to the best of my knowledge. Warren's presence hasn't been apparent in the past week either; I suspect that the early morning wake-up might have been the last straw in their friendship. And Godzilla has been chastised at least once more, this time for playing her music too loudly. I know this because I heard the knock on the door from the security guard. I hadn't fallen asleep yet because, well, the music from next door was too loud. Good thing someone in the building had the foresight to call and report it, huh?

Since the photo above was taken, she has purchased a doormat. It's actually quite a pitiful one. No, I don't have a picture, at least not yet. It's small and obviously cheap, like one you'd pick up at the 99 Cents Store. I purchased a rather nice one a few years ago, but I keep mine just inside the front door. I figured the people streaming in and out of the apartment next door would wipe their dirty shoes on my mat, and I'd be left cleaning up after them. From the looks of the shoes above, my fears weren't unfounded. Oddly enough, it has stayed relatively clean inside my apartment.

I have to admit that I'm a bit worried about this doormat purchase. That might indicate a desire to stay here longer than the six months or so that the last two sets of tenants have managed. Then again, given how cheap it was, she might consider it to be disposable. Time will tell.