ABOUT THE “DICKLESS LUNATICS” AT THE NRA

 

When we live in a country where a gun-toting crazy fuck starts spraying his easily-bought semi-automatic at a public place, usually full of innocent women and children, it’s just a matter of time when the madness knocks on your back door. Don’t keep thinking “It’ll never happen here” because it will until there’s a legitimate and concrete change in our insanely loose gun laws (Or lack of any, I should have said).

That’s what happened to us in Portland. A day after Gabby and I were casually hanging out in the same neighborhood, another insane asshole opened fire at a mall and killed two people. Not like the media could have any time giving us every little tiny detail about this piece of shit’s life and background, therefore turning him into a public figure, which is probably what he was after anyway. Because two days after this tragedy, a much, much bigger one took place at Sandy Elementary.

Of course when asked, the “Dickless Lunatics at the NRA”, as affectionately coined by our lord and savior George Carlin, will blame anything but guns. They say it’s because of violent movies and video games, a godless society and even a lack of guns. Yes, according to them, the way to solve the gun-toting lunatic problem is by arming everyone aged 0 to 120. They think we live in an action movie and that Die Hard and 24 are documentaries.

They keep quoting war-torn nations having to train their teachers and staff to protect themselves from terrorists. If teachers were packing like they do in Israel, they so lovingly state, none of this would have happened. Of course in their eyes there’s nothing different between a professional who was trained in the army and a random, clueless guidance counselor who study after study shows will more than likely shoot more innocent people by accident instead of the assailant.

And why does the press ask the NRA about their opinions on guns after such a shooting takes place? When a serial child rapist is caught, no one asks NAMBLA their opinion. If they did, would we find it so offensive after they would defend the rapist and accuse the children of “asking for it”? Why are we so shocked when the NRA says similar stupid shit?

Anyway, what does any of this have to do with movies? Here it is: I am all for violence in movies and I support a strict separation of entertainment and real life. Whenever right-wing zealots complain that violent video games and movies are corrupting our youth, I just laugh it off.

But maybe there’s something to this. Maybe the corruption is not about the youth, but people’s maturity in general. After all, I’m sure there are millions of 12-year-olds who can differentiate the graphic violence  in R-Rated and M-Rated movies and video games and real life, consider it to be nothing but visceral entertainment and grow up to be normal members of society. I was watching R-Rated action movies when I was 10, now I hate guns and could not get near one. When I write an action movie, however, of course I will think of any creative and gruesome ways for random bad guys to die. It comes with the territory of the genre.

But apparently there are “adults” in this world, 40, 50, 60-plus-year-olds, who watch 24 and apply it completely to real life and believe torture to be an excellent way of interrogation. How else will Jack Bauer find that bomb that’s about to go off in 35 minutes? They watch Under Siege or Die Hard and wholeheartedly believe that if there was anyone armed in that situation, the day would have been saved.

Maybe there should be an additional movie rating next to the age limit. I would call it NRA-NO. Here’s how it works: When you’re buying a movie ticket online or at the box office, if the movie is rated NRA-NO, the computer will search your name in the NRA member database. And if you’re an NRA member, you don’t get to see the movie. It doesn’t matter how old you are.

I would say any action movie that turns shoot-em-up violence into pure entertainment should be rated NRA-NO. You’re an NRA member and you wanna rent The Rock? Tough shit buddy, you might get the impression that Nicholas Cage’s character, an egghead who would have been killed within two seconds in real life, would exist in real life and could have saved children if only he was armed. You wanna watch Skyfall? Fuck no! What if you actually believe any armed British person can kill the bad guy at a shopping mall shooting?

The bottom line is, we need to protect our NRA members from such filth. There should be strict protection on NRA-NO rated movies and video games so we don’t have to keep dealing with idiots who cannot separate fiction from real life.

OVER/UNDER PODCAST EPISODE 3: FLIGHT AND BRIGHT LIGHTS, BIG CITY

 

Hi film lovers! Here’s the third episode of our Over/Under Podcast, where our film expert panel picks one overrated and one under appreciated movie and we discuss them.

This week’s films are Flight for overrated and Bright Lights, Big City for under appreciated. Both films deal with the problem of addiction.

Here’s some information about the films:

Flight (2012):

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1907668/

An airline pilot saves a flight from crashing, but an investigation into the malfunctions reveals something troubling.

Bright Lights, Big City (1988)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094799/

A disillusioned young writer living in New York City turns to drugs and drinking to block out the memories of his dead mother and estranged wife.

Our last episode reached an impressive 100 downloads and we’re hoping this episode will reach most of you as well. Please leave comments so we can improve with each episode.

TO STREAM, PLEASE CLICK HERE

TO DOWNLOAD MP3, PLEASE CLICK HERE

THE BEST AND WORST FILMS OF 2012

The Best:

5- The Grey: Possibly the year’s biggest surprise. I reluctantly went in expecting a “Taken with wolves” style Liam Neeson action show, and was presented with a brutal, stark and unremitting study of Man’s struggle against his own mortality. Backed by luscious visuals of Alaska and supported heavily by the fact that the film was shot on location in the middle of real snow instead of a safe green screen studio, The Grey is a harrowing yet highly involving adventure.

4- Silver Linings Playbook: So refreshing to see people with real problems in a romantic comedy. David O. Russel smashes through the genre’s overly played-out conventions in order to bring a fresh spin to the typical “Disturbed quirky people find each other against all odds” premise. Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Lawrence are both tops, but it’s Robert DeNiro’s performance as the OCD dad that stands out. Welcome back from Fokkerland man, we knew you had one more left in you.

3- Django Unchained: Finally, a Tarantino steal-fest I can fully appreciate. After the aggravatingly tone-deaf Kill Bill, Death Proof and Inglorious Basterds, which try to exist in two completely separate universes of grindhouse fodder and sophisticated art-house cinema. But this time Tarantino brings us a full blast spaghetti western blood fest. There isn’t any higher purpose here other than to present the gnarliest Leone-Peckinpah mash up, and I loved it.

2- The Master: Confounding and perplexing to be sure, and definitely needs multiple viewings, but it’s impossible to disregard the visceral power of Paul Thomas Anderson’s follow-up to the masterful There Will Be Blood. The cinematography is nothing short of breathtaking. The narrative is uneven and at times feels choppy and broken, but I can’t help but feel this was intentional since the Scientology-like religion it depicts is just as much confusing and disorienting. Not for everyone, to be sure, but the greatest enigma of 2012 nonetheless.

1- Argo: After two solid films as a director, Ben Affleck decides to dive into Costa-Gavras territory and presents perhaps the best political thriller of recent years. Tightly structured and executed, it swings back and forth effortlessly between The Player and All The President’s Men with a dash of Munich in between for good measure. Excellent performances all around and the finale that takes place in one of the most boring places on earth, a passport checkpoint, is more exciting and nerve-wracking than any traditional action movie gunfight or chase scene.

The Worst:

5- Total Recall: Pointless remake of a classic, completely sidesteps the psychological and philosophical implications of the original in order to present the blandest sci-fi actioner of the year. CGI-heavy, groan inducing, full of lame performances (Colin Farrell sleepwalks through the movie).

4- Silent Hill Retribution: More like a feature-length video game cut scene than an actual movie deserving of theatrical distribution. I kept waiting for the game pad to pop up in front of my seat so I could start playing but of course that never happened. Cheap, ugly, uninspired and worst of all for a horror movie, boring.

3- The Watch: I think it’s time for the writing team of Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg to take a break. I loved Superbad but the amount of homoerotic jokes they randomly stuff in multiplies by ten with each script. Pretty soon, I expect them to pen a movie simply called Gay Joke. Supposedly a sci-fi comedy a-la Ghostbusters, all of the jokes fall flat, Ben Stiller, Jonah Hill and Vince Vaughn are all on autopilot and the brilliant Richard Ayoade from The IT Crowd is tragically wasted.

2- Once Upon a Time in Anatolia: I try to support Turkish films as a Turkish filmmaker, but this was Chinese water torture doled out 24 frames per second. Art-house idol Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s latest Tarkovski stroke-fest is needlessly slow, plodding, unnecessary and full of philosophical gibberish. It got many awards celebrating its minimalism. But there’s a difference between being a minimalist and having absolutely nothing of value to say.

1- Rock of Ages: Even if I liked or remotely tolerated 80s hair metal (I don’t, not in the least bit), this piece of turd would still end up as nothing but a hackneyed cash-grab without a sincere bone in its supposedly hard-rocking body. Nothing but bubblegum nostalgia for the airhead generation, the fact that it tries to sell mundane shopping mall music as “real rock ‘n roll” is the cherry on top of this shit sundae.

OVER/UNDER PODCAST EPISODE 2: GHOST DOG & WANTED

 

Presenting the second episode of our podcast Over/Under Movies, where we pick one under-appreciated and one overrated movie and examine them.

For this episode, we picked Ghost Dog for under-appreciated and Wanted for overrated.

Here’s some information about the films:

Ghost Dog (1999):

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0165798/

An African American mafia hit man who models himself after the samurai of old finds himself targeted for death by the mob.

Wanted (2008):

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0493464/

A frustrated office worker learns that he is the son of a professional assassin, and that he shares his father’s superhuman killing abilities.

To stream, please click here

To download, please click here

OVER/UNDER PODCAST EPISODE 1: AMERICAN HEART & THE BLIND SIDE

Presenting the first episode of our podcast Over/Under Movies, where we pick one under-appreciated and one overrated movie and examine them.

For this episode, we picked American Heart for under-appreciated and The Blind Side for overrated.

Here’s some information about the films:

American Heart (1992):

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0103670/

Jack is now out of jail and he meets Nick, his adolescent son. Their relationship will be complicated, because Jack has a problem with alcohol. But his love for Nick will help him to get over the past and reach his dreams.

The Blind Side (2009):

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0878804/

The story of Michael Oher, a homeless and traumatized boy who became an All American football player and first round NFL draft pick with the help of a caring woman and her family.

To stream, please click here

To download, please click below:

Over/Under Movies Episode 1: American Heart and The Blind Side

MY SEVEN-YEAR JOURNEY THROUGH THE TWILIGHT ZONE

I’m a huge fan of the original Twilight Zone. Any kind of high-concept fantasy or science-fiction film you can think of, its roots can probably be found in Rod Serling’s seminal masterpiece. You thought the twist ending of The Sixth Sense was brilliant? Watch the first season episode The Hitchhiker, written forty years before The Sixth Sense was released. You thought Poltergeist was one of the most original horror films of its time? Watch Little Girl Lost from season 3. Any twist ending, any philosophical fantasy and sci-fi concept you can think of, it can be found… On the Twilight Zone.
I was first introduced to The Twilight Zone when I visited New York City during the summer of 1994, I was 15-years-old at the time. One Sunday morning, I saw that the Sci-Fi channel was running a Twilight Zone marathon and I was glued to the twelve-inch TV for twenty hours straight. To their credit, they were showing the best stuff, back to back. Where is Everybody, Time Enough at Last, Nightmare at 20,000 Feet and my favorite of all episodes by a long shot, Eye of The Beholder, which also might still be my favorite short film of all time.

For years after that, I tried to hunt down every episode I could get my hands on. I was living in Turkey long before file sharing software became fashionable, so if you wanted a piece of media, you had to spend months looking for it. After years of futile search, I found a Best of Twilight Zone DVD set at my university’s library and freshened up on my favorites.

After I moved to The US to earn my Master’s, I was disappointed to find out that the complete series wasn’t available on home video. All that was offered were the best of DVDs I had already seen. But suddenly, near the beginning of 2005, I saw a box set for $80, The Complete First Season of Twilight Zone. I coughed up the cash and started slowly making my way through the episodes.

I found a marathon sitting of all Twilight Zone episodes a bigger chore than I had imagined. Especially since the first season suffered a bit from the obvious pains of setting a distinct style and there were a couple of duds that made it harder to sit through. The fact that the now famous theme music was introduced in the second season didn’t help matters much. You turn on the Twilight Zone, you expect to hear that theme.So every couple of weeks or so, I could sit through about four or five episodes at a time.

The first season alone boasts something like 39 episodes so you could imagine how long it took me to get through that. By the time I was finished with the first season, I had coughed up another $160 and bought the second and third seasons. And by the time I was halfway through the second season, I owned all five seasons of The Twilight Zone. Now it was just a matter of time to become acquainted with every episode of what was probably the best TV show ever produced. Yet even with that enthusiasm, it took me three years to get through the first three seasons.

And then I hit a wall. Season four of The Twilight Zone is notorious for being the worst because the network decided to extend each episode from 25 minutes to 50. Rod Serling himself opposed this idea, rightfully stating that the compact, fable-like structure of the episodes would become tedious if their running time was doubled. Therefore, some great ideas like The Miniature became harder to sit through when they were padded to 50 minutes, and some already bad ideas became excruciating to watch.

After ignoring the show for a couple more years because of this reason, I saw that Netflix hosted the series, sans season 4, in their instant streaming subscription. That made me mad, since I had once spent $300 for the privilege of watching this show and now every asshole who could spare $8 a month could access it.

After we moved from San Francisco to Portland, I used my now more available free time to catch up. I decided to skip season 4 and jump right into 5, when the familiar half-hour format returned. After I was done, there was still a question of how I was going to sit through season 4. I made a compromise and cheated a bit, reading the full synopses of episodes first and then skipping through, essentially watching each episode in about 25 minutes. The only episode I watched all the way through was The Miniature, which sports one of Robert Duvall’s best performances. I capped it off with the feature-length documentary on Rod Serling found on the season 5 box set.

So, in between watching the first episode and the last, seven years had passed. During that time I met my future wife, got married, got two dogs, lived in six different apartments, moved from one state to another, became a somewhat credible professional film critic and wrote four screenplays and half a novel. It’s been a beautiful ride… Through The Twilight Zone.

DO I HAVE A MENTAL DEFICIENCY?

 

Grocery stores in America have a lovely tradition of employing mentally challenged people in various labor-intensive positions such as bagging and stocking. In most grocery stores I’ve been to so far in The Bay Area and in Portland, chances are I’ll come across a mentally challenged kid bagging my or people at the next register’s groceries. Most of the time my interactions with them don’t go beyond a simple “Hello” and “Have a nice day.”

But on the rare occasions they engage me in a conversation, we usually end up talking about movies in great detail. Now mind you, they have no idea who I am and that I’m actually a giant movie nerd. To this kid, I’m just another customer but they talk about specific details in films they’ve seen with the kind of intensity I see from people who know me very well as a movie nerd and therefore feel comfortable to let out their inner dork as well. But any random person they talk to, these kids dive straight into their vast knowledge of film.

I remember about five years ago a mentally challenged guy who was stocking groceries approached me out of the blue and started talking about this 80s war movie he watched the night before. He went into much detail until I realized which film he was talking about, not that I can remember it right now. We then started carrying on a conversation ranking our favorite war movies from the 80s. He looked like he was surprised I could keep up with him in terms of movie knowledge. After a while, a supervisor walked up to him and told him “What did we talk about? If the customer’s not interested…” The guy nodded and apologized. I said “No it’s okay, I enjoy it.” The supervisor looked at me like I was the asshole.

I remember watching a documentary years back that stated a majority of mentally-challenged people are obsessed with The Beatles. This study was also reflected in the movie I Am Sam, where the soundtrack was full of Beatles covers. I watched face after face as they recounted from memory these tiny little details regarding Beatles history. I remember thinking “I know everything they said by heart too.”

The other day I was at the grocery store and at the register next to me a mentally-challenged kid was packing a middle-aged lady’s groceries. While packing, he kept talking about how much he loves Pixar movies and went into great detail regarding Pixar’s history, including naming all of their films in chronological order off the top of his head. The lady looked annoyed but played along in order to not appear rude and hurt the kid’s feelings. As I was walking out, I thought to myself “I know everything he regurgitated off the top of my head too. In fact, I could probably teach him a thing or two.”

This experience made me think about the first time I went to Bodrum, a coastal party town in Turkey, with my friends from film school. Our female friends had no trouble hooking up with foreign guys, of course, but me and my male friend who was obsessed with action movies were having some trouble meeting girls. “No matter what we do”, my friend said, “We’re not going to talk about movies the entire time we’re in Bodrum.” He was so terrified that girls might find out he’s a movie nerd and get turned off that he put an embargo on the very thing we otherwise talked about for hours on end.

One night near the end of the vacation and when our hopes were dwindling to a point of non-existence, we carried on a long conversation about Robocop or some other action movie while we were at the bar, looking around for a girl, any girl, who would talk to us. Before going to sleep that night, he mumbled “Damn it, we talked about movies tonight. Oh well, whatever.” It made me think, I could recite so much Star Wars trivia back then, but I lacked the most natural mate-seeking skills of simply walking up to a girl and saying “Hello”?

A couple of years ago another friend, who’s also a big movie nerd, was driving me home when a red light came on. Neither of us had any idea what the light meant. Later on we found out it was meant to signify that the radiator was overheating. My friend opened the hood and stared blankly at the engine. He called his dad and told him that the “Red light that looks like funnel-looking thing with a drop of water leaking out of it just came on. What do I do?” His dad told him it might be the radiator. He then called the service station and described the light in the exact same way. Here we were, two grown man nearing 30, and none of us knew what this sign meant. While he was talking on the phone, I was Googling “Funnel shaped warning sign”.

I still don’t know about a lot of practical things that might save my life some day, but I carry around in my head an insurmountable amount of bullshit regarding movies. I’ll prove it to you. I’m going to list all of Kubrick’s film as fast as I can in chronological order, without looking once at the internet. Here we go: Fear and Desire, Killer’s Kiss, The Killing, Paths of Glory, Spartacus, Lolita, Dr. Strangelove, 2001, A Clockwork Orange, Barry Lyndon, The Shining, Full Metal Jacket, Eyes Wide Shut. How did I do? You can check on IMDB.

I could also list all 30 of Kurosawa’s films but I know you don’t have the time or energy for that. So my point is, is this some kind of an illness? Sometimes it scares me to find out how much I have in common with the nice kid who has down syndrome, bagging my groceries. I could also talk that lady’s ears off with endless details on Pixar, I just didn’t because she’s a stranger and I’d figure it would bore her to death. Yet I always bore my wife to death with shit she doesn’t remotely care about. Is that the only difference between us, that I don’t bother strangers with my encyclopedic knowledge of useless crap? Who knows? All I know is that 2001 was shot in 2:00:1 ratio, which incidentally spells out the movie’s… Aw, fuck it!

FUCK NURI BILGE CEYLAN

 

Living in the US, it’s hard to get your hands on recent Turkish films. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard if I actually had much personal interest in following up with the the state of the film industry of the country I was born and raised in, of which I am still a half-citizen. If I was really interested, I’m sure I could find a lot of films available to download or order DVDs by mail through various web-sites. If you look hard enough, you can find anything sold on a website in America.

No, this is more of a guilt issue. Since I’m Turkish, whatever smidgen of national pride that’s left inside me guilts me from time to time and tells me that I should support my fellow half-countrypeople’s work by at least watching them. I’m actually not a big fan of Turkish cinema, especially contemporary works that I’ve seen before I moved to The States and a handful of films I’ve been able to watch after. Since the beginning of the 2000s, Turkish cinema seems to have been divided into two categories:

1- Broad and crass comedies that perpetuate horrible stereotypes. They’re so bad, they make Adam Sandler look like Charlie Chaplin.

2- “Minimalist”, Pretentious as hell, excruciatingly slow art-house films devoid of context or story. Films so unbelievably boring, you would rather chew your own arm off in order to feel anything.

I was suckered into going to a lot of films in both of these categories before I moved to San Francisco in 2003. After that, I would watch a Turkish film here and there every couple of years or so in order to witness that things haven’t changed that much. The last time I saw a Turkish film before the unfortunate events of last night was almost three years ago. After sitting through Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Chinese water torture disguised as a feature film, I think I’ll be fine if I don’t watch another Turkish effort for 30 years and tell my Turkish guilt to shut the fuck up.

Nuri Bilge Ceylan is a former professional photographer (Strike one), who obviously idolizes Andrei Tarkovski (Strike two) and who has the brass balls to turn what could be a decent 20-minute short film into a 157-minute epic behemoth (Strike three, and you’re out!). He is not much more than a con man who suckered otherwise respectable film critic and art-house buffs into believing his digital cinematography and framing skills actually transformed him into a master storyteller worthy of a buttload of awards.

I avoided Ceylan like the plague once I saw his pseudo-documentary Clouds of May, and heard from other critics that his Tarkovski influence became stronger with each film he directs. So I made sure not to support my nation’s film industry by not watching his later films Distant and Climates, even though they were being screened at an art-house theatre only five miles away from my house. Meanwhile, Ceylan’s reputation only grew stronger and after his latest, Once Upon a Time in Anatolia won The Jury Grand Prize at last year’s Cannes Film Festival.

Even then, and after reading multiple reviews from Turkish and American film critics praising it, I didn’t bother seeing it when it hit theaters or even renting it when it come out on home video here. A Turkish film being released on American home video is a very rare occurrence, hell, it might even be the first Turkish film ever released on Blu-Ray in The States.

Yet even though I kept repeating to myself that I’m not afraid, the Geena Davis in my head kept saying “Be afraid. Be very afraid.” Finally, the nightmare caught up with me in the form of Ceylan’s masterpiece being available on Netflix instant, a subscription service where you can stream films for free on your TV. There it was, right in front of me, I could watch it right away without leaving the comfort of my couch and I didn’t have to pay a single dime for it. Yet I didn’t know I was going to pay a much heftier price.

There is no doubt in my mind that Ceylan and his videographer (let’s not kid ourselves) have masterful eyes. Shot on digital, the film’s photography and framing are pretty, sometimes gorgeous to look at. It’s a good looking film the way a lobotomized swimsuit model is good looking.

The attempt at minimalist storytelling and wildly unreliable characterizations stinks of Tarkovski. Characters who are supposed to be typical working class Anatolians turn into seasoned philosophers, giving deep, insightful monologues about the nature of life with the delivery and prose you’d expect from a member of the Royal Shakespeare company. When the character is done with his sudden transformation where he serves as the filmmaker’s mouth, he goes back to being a simple Anatolian. And are these philosophical monologues  accompanied by five-minute-long shots of grass gently waving back and forth in the calm breeze? You bet your sweet ass they do.

The structure and pacing of the story is way off. A late night search for a dead body by the police and the confessed killer takes up two thirds of the film when it should be just the first act. The second and third act are then compressed into the final hour where we become privy to some character development, but at that point it’s too little, too late.

The frustrations that develop with the body search sequences are almost too painful to revisit. Apart from the aforementioned severely out of place philosophy lectures, Ceylan plays with his audience by promising actual plot or character development via certain visual cues and then giving them the middle finger. At one point when hopes for finding the body is at an all-time low, there’s a long shot of an apple dropping on the ground and rolling towards the bottom of the hill. Ceylan follows this apple so intently and closely that we are led to believe it will lead to a clue, or at least anything that has anything to do with the story at hand. Yet after two straight minutes of following the apple, it stops rolling, and that’s that.

You might say that this is a character study in the guise of a dry police procedural. What character study? We don’t get to find out any details about the main characters until a good 90 minutes into the film, and even then, the information we get about them is minimal at best. Until that point, the characters are pretty much either interchangeable, or cliched, like the typical hot-headed police chief portrayed by Yilmaz Erdogan, who at least brings some energy to his performance.

One element in the film is handled quite masterfully, and that is mainly because it actually follows some form of three-act story structure with a beginning, middle and conclusion. During the long search for the body, the prosecutor tells the doctor about a woman who died exactly when she said she would die. The story comes up again later on. And near the end, it pays off beautifully as we learn more about the mysterious woman’s true identity. The story is introduced at the beginning, it’s reminded to the audience near the middle and is revealed to be something completely different at the end. Nothing else in the film comes close to this kind of a heartfelt and concise delivery.

Look, I know I’m in the minority when I call this film a piece of shit. A lot of critics, Turkish and American, praise Bilge Ceylan to high heaven. The man is practically a cinema prophet in Turkey. Maybe I’m biased as a screenwriter who is indoctrinated over and over again by his mentors and colleagues that story is king. Yet I love films like The Tree of Life. 2001 might as well be my favorite film of all time. And these real masterpieces don’t offer much in terms of a coherent story and are criticized roughly for the same reasons I hated Bilge Ceylan’s film. So my defense is this: If you’re going to linger on an image longer than it takes for a dyslexic person to read War and Peace, you better make damn sure where you’re pointing your camera is worth looking at. Kubrick and Malick knows this, and Bilge Ceylan doesn’t.

WHAT’S UP WITH THE TITLE CHANGE?

 

Dear 5-10 visitors a day (Hey, I’m not complaining, I used to volunteer on “legitimate” web-sites that had less visitors),
Since my wife Gabby got a job working for the Union of Reform Judaism, a job she can do from home practically anywhere in the west coast, we decided to move to Portland, Oregon as a way of slashing our rent and much of our budget in half. After a grueling three weeks spent leaving our beloved San Francisco and moving into our new home in Portlandia (I couldn’t help it), I’m ready to once again start that Wonderful (Yes, with a capital W) process of looking for work, while spending most of my time trying to finish the confusing clusterfuck I call my first novel and probably bothering you a lot more with pointless, obsessive observations on everything film related and otherwise.

Since we’re no longer SF, Bay Area, or even California residents (sniff), the original title of this blog obviously no longer makes much sense, not that it did much to begin with. Although I considered keeping the title as a pathetic attempt at self-delusion, it’s time for me to move on. Therefore, I had to spend the three seconds it took me to change the title From San Francisco With Love to From Portland With Love.

The visual theme of the blog stays the same, since the shamelessly stereotypical hippie-psychedelic wallpaper also applies to Portland. But the second I find a theme that incorporates hiking, camping, Frisbee Golf, Powell’s Books and Voodoo Donuts (Yes, I haven’t been around much, been busy developing a hernia while moving 100 lbs boxes around all day long), I’ll change it right away. Until then, enjoy!

WHY ARNOLD SCHWARZENNEGER’S BIT PART IN THE LONG GOODBYE PROVES THAT THE UNIVERSE WORKS IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS?

 

Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye is probably the most unusual film noir I have ever seen. It takes Raymond Chandler’s iconic private dick Philip Marlowe and places him in a world where he is no longer relevant, 1970s hippie-infested Los Angeles.

Film noir is all about structure, yet Altman treats the plot like a master musician improvising an epic jazz tune. His Marlowe, played by the purposefully miscast Elliot Gould, is a lost man in a lost time. His 50s style airtight morals and old-fashioned thinking does not fit with with his neighbors, the hot pothead women doing naked yoga 24 hours a day, or with the truly bizarre and psychotic mobsters.

The film is quite a masterpiece and a study of how much the conventions of a genre can be stretched out of its comfort point yet still retain it’s base qualities. It’s a film that should be watched by viewers who are very experienced with film noir archetypes and Altman’s oeuvre. Otherwise, you will feel severely lost and confused.

Let’s get to the part about the universe working in mysterious ways. Perhaps known to some of Arnold Schwarzenneger’s die-hard fans, he was hired for this film to act as a glorified extra, as one of highly disturbed mob boss Marty Augustine’s (Mark Rydell) goons. Years away from establishing himself as Conan and T-800, he was only known back then as Mister Universe and didn’t have much of a film career.

You can tell by watching the scene he’s in. He’s stiff and confused, as if he wasn’t told a word about what to do or where to stand during the whole scene by the director. Knowing Altman’s style, this is very likely. He was probably chosen for his massive muscles, and nothing else.

But knowing what happens thirty years into the future makes this scene very bizarre. The scene takes place in the mob boss’ apartment, where he, looking for a substantial amount of money he believes Marlowe is in possession of, orders Marlowe to take off his clothes, because he believes “being naked brings out the truth”.

For whatever reason, he then orders his entire crew to undress, including Arnold who can’t help but show off his chest muscles.

It’s a very unusual sequence to begin with, but what makes it eerie is what happens in the previous scene. After the suicide of a major character, Marlowe gets pissed at the detectives for their sloppy work and tells them that he’ll be talking to Reagan (Governor of California at the time) to complain.

Right after this dialogue, we cut to the scene at the mob boss’ office. In fact, the very next shot after that line, Arnold is sitting comfortably in the background. So the future governor of California, a then-unimportant extra “goon”, sits behind Marlowe right after he said he wants to meet with the governor of California. In a way he gets his wish, only about 30 years too soon.

What baffles me about this is that no one at the set during that day of shooting would ever believe that this random muscle man they hired as an extra will one day become not only a major movie star, but the governor of California. I wonder, does stuff like this happen in other countries?

You can watch the scene here: