The Thirteen Best Foreign Movies Ever

In the spirit of my previous effort--The Thirteen Best Movies Made in the USA--I have decided to make a similar list for foreign films. Please remember that this list comprises the entire history of foreign cinema and there is necessarily a long list of worthwhile entries that had to be omitted (such as personal favorites Breaking the Waves, The Leopard, Talk to Her, and Jules & Jim--sorry!).


8 1/2 (1961, Federico Fellini, Italy)
Fellini was a master and as hard as it was to leave La Dolce Vita and I, Vitelloni off this list, life is all about hard choices. Quite simply, this is the best portrayal of a tortured artist ever put to film. Part autobiography, part fiction, part comedy, part tragedy, 8 1/2 at once bleeds truth and fantasy. Has there ever been a more likable guy than Marcello Mastroianni? Doubtful, as he is the heart and soul of 3 of the best movies ever made...


Seduced and Abandoned (1964, Pietro Germi, Italy)
This movie bursts with life. It perfectly blends the absurdity of propriety-for-propriety's-sake face-saving Italian customs, the twisted utility of religion as a social institution in the provinces, the absurdity of the Italian legal system, and the lengths men will go to in order to quench their lust. And it's not only really funny and unpredictable, but chock-full of fine performances across the board. There is no way you can watch this movie and not fall in love with Stefania Sandrelli, who also appeared in Germi's previous masterwork, Divorce, Italian Style, alongside Marcello Mastroianni (who shines in a comedic tour de force performance for the ages).


L'Eclisse (1962, Michaelangelo Antonioni, Italy)
Although some people find Antonioni dreadfully boring, I happen to enjoy a scene that is full of such ripe silence that a small oscillating fan is able to become a veritable character, as happens in the opening stretch of my favorite of all his works, L'Eclisse. To paraphrase Jack Horner in Boogie Nights, "there's silence in life, baby" and Antonioni is one of the few who not only realizes that, but uses it expertly in the sonic landscapes of his tales of obsession and lust. I also recommend The Passenger (starring Jack Nicholson and Maria Schneider), La Notte (another Marcello gem), and Il Grido (if you're not scared away by what is essentially a fictional documentary about working class life in a small seaside Italian village).


The Marriage of Maria Braun (1979, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Germany)
Although I could list a handful of Fassbinder movies that should be on any list of the best foreign films (Martha, Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, and American Soldier chief among them), I decided I should limit myself to no more than one per director. As such, I chose The Marriage of Maria Braun not only because it is a fabulous, stand-alone story marvelously told, but because I think of all his movies this one perfectly encapsulates what he was often trying to say about the difficulties of life in Germany. His epic 13-episode miniseries Berlin Alexanderplatz may have perfectly recreated life in the Weimar Republic between the World Wars that devastated Germany more than any other nation, but it is more than a bit long, uneven, and as unrealistic as it is beautifully and sadly realistic. As far as personal, emblematic, postwar German struggles go, The Marriage of Maria Braun is more my speed. After WWII devastates both her life and her country, Maria Braun is left with nothing save her intelligence, cunning, ambition, and sexuality. She employs all of these tools expertly in her meteoric rise from peasant to wealthy businesswoman, but then discovers that in many ways, she is no better off where she ends up--a magnificent epic from the master of melodrama (sorry, Douglas Sirk, but as much as I like you, I think the pupil outperformed his master).


The Celebration (1998, Thomas Vinterberg, Denmark)
By far the best of the Dogme95 movies, this movie is a perfect example of what I like to refer to as Chateau Films--The Rules of the Game, Gosford Park, and even The Big Chill also belong to this genre. However, unlike those films, The Celebration has the the added bonus of extreme realism (and thus believability, relatability) that renders the weighty secret hanging over the revelers that much more devastating and creates an enthralling tension too-often absent from those movies. Probably the best example ever of why you don't need a lot of money to make a great movie.


Scenes from a Marriage (1973, Ingmar Bergman, Sweden)
This beautifully tragic portrait of an ultimately doomed marriage is right up there with Fanny and Alexander as Bergman at his best, in my opinion. Sure, Wild Strawberries, The Virgin Spring, and The Seventh Seal are good, but there is something too stark and deliberate about those for me. I enjoy the later Bergman quite a bit more, when he took that fatalistic view of humanity and clothed it in a bit more understanding, made the characters supremely relatable despite--or sometimes because of--their flaws, and didn't so much tell a story as hold a camera up as life unfolded for his characters. Of course, the same morals are there, ultimately, but they are delightfully obscured and, for that reason, carry a lot more weight for me. Chief among these late-career films is Scenes from a Marriage, which was both a television miniseries and a (much shorter) theatrical release, and explores exactly how and why a perfect marriage can still disintegrate over time.


That Obscure Object of Desire (1977, Luis Bunuel, Spain/Mexico)
Viridiana, Belle de Jour, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, Tristana...Bunuel's late-career surge (all of those movies were made after he turned 60) is chock-full of captivating tales focusing on the frivolity of powerful men and the seductive power of women--whether they like it or not, in many cases. All are great movies, but I believe Bunuel finally nailed it with the last film he ever made--That Obscure Object of Desire. Blending in a bit of his earlier, more experimental work, the female lead is played by two very different women--different both in looks and comportment, symbolic of the two faces of a woman--but this is a far more straightforward film than Un Chien Andalou. Told in flashback, a man rivets an assembled audience in a train compartment with a tale of frustratingly unfulfilled lust after being seen dumping a bucket of water on a woman's head as the train pulled away from the station. That's it, but it is fun to watch. Trust me.


Murmur of the Heart (1971, Louis Malle, France)
The best coming-of-age, goddamn-I-wanna-get-laid movie ever made. Think of it as the '70s-French American Pie and then end all similarities there, as the protagonist is not just some stupid high school schlub, but rather a more intelligent, French version of Max from Rushmore. Fifteen-year-old Laurent Chevalier is tops in his class, deeply involved in every club at his posh private school, a volunteer for charity, a dreamer with a bright future, and a horny teenager yearning to be an adult like his brothers and parents. Always sumptuous, often inviting, occasionally uncomfortable, this movie is a highly enjoyable ride through adolescence among the moneyed French elite.


Masculin Feminin (1966, Jean-Luc Godard, France)
I chose this in a narrow victory over Jules et Jim for yet another French entrant simply because I enjoy this movie a lot more. The hipness in Godard's movies can sometimes be too much to take, but here it is employed to perfection--both onscreen and behind the camera. Consciously-cool characters, jarring edits, fantastic music, self-reflexive intertitles, sexy young stars, endless topical references, hilarious and/or fascinating tangents (especially the lecture on aspect ratio given to a projectionist)...it all works here in a simple tale of lust and love between two teenagers in France during the 1960s. Unlike other movies with similar subject matter, this movie is better because you are immediately aware that these characters represent man and woman, as opposed to merely players in a self-contained story; no matter who we are, or who we would like to think we are, we see a little bit of ourselves in them. Another Godard movie I recommend along the same lines is A Woman is a Woman.


Let the Right One In (2008, Tomas Alfredson, Sweden)
As previously stated, I remain steadfast in my declaration of this as the best vampire movie ever made (Herzog's Nosferatu the Vampyre is a close second, if only due to the terrifying Klaus Kinski in the lead role). Tired of all the bullshit American vampire movies and TV shows these days? Well, sink your teeth into this charming tale of friendship, love, loneliness, and blood-thirst in frigid Sweden. The fact that it involves a child vampire who may or may not have sliced off her genitalia should only entice you more...


The Lives of Others (2007, Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, Germany)
The clever ploy of having a Stasi agent eavesdrop on two of the artistic heavyweights in Eastern Germany not only allows us access to both worlds--the cultural and political--but also to better see where, when, and how they overlap. A necessarily delicately told story, which mirrors the delicacy required to survive on the wrong side of the Berlin Wall, it nonetheless manages to hammer home a nuanced attack on communism, compromise, those politicians of every stripe that abuse their power, and the people who let them get away with it by staying silent. Von Donnersmarck provides an interesting answer to a difficult question: who are the real heroes of war?


La Collectionneuse (1967, Eric Rohmer, France)
As intellectual as you may find Godard, Truffaut, or Agnes Varda, Eric Rohmer blows them all out of the water--for better or worse. He made an entire movie about Pascal's stance on religion, after all--My Night at Maud's--and is therefore appropriately more obscure than the other New Wavers. Although many people are bored to tears by his movies, I am a huge fan and recommend these other efforts of his, as well: Claire's Knee, The Aviators Wife, Summer, and Pauline at the Beach. La Collectionneuse is probably my favorite of his philosophical musings on love and lust because of the delightful sexual warfare his leading man and women are engaged in throughout the entire movie--many battles are won, equally as many are lost, and ultimately they both lose because they are too proud to pretend that it meant anything. If you are interested in learning more about Eric Rohmer and his movies, check out my in-depth analysis of his career here.


Black Book (2006, Paul Verhoeven, Netherlands)
I've seen just about all of Verhoeven's movies and recommend his pre-Hollywood Dutch efforts--such as Turks Fruit (essentially the Dutch Love Story, but far better), Soldier of Orange, and The Fourth Man--in addition to his deceptively-intelligent Hollywood films: RoboCop, Total Recall, Basic Instinct, Starship Troopers. Oddly, though, it is latest effort that most impresses me. With Soldier of Orange, Verhoeven showed the world a unique and interesting Dutch viewpoint of World War II, through the story of several friends involved in the Dutch Resistance; in Black Book, he once again mines this very personal material (he lived through frequent German bombing attacks as a young boy in Amsterdam and, thus, felt the effects of the grueling war far more intimately than most filmmakers) but with greater success. Essentially, Black Book is the movie that Paul Verhoeven was not only meant to make, but has been preparing for his whole life--it is at once heartfelt, cheesy, violent, introspective, intelligent, populist, and obscure. Not too many people I know have seen this movie, but I want you to because as bold a statement as I know this is, I think it's the best movie ever made about World War II.

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The tallies:

Italy - 3
France - 3
Germany - 2
Sweden - 2
Denmark - 1
Netherlands - 1
Spain - 1

1960s - 5
1970s - 4
1980s - 0
1990s - 1
2000s - 3

As you probably noticed before the tallies made it abundantly clear, I am a man with my heart in the 1960s & 70s and not a big fan of Asian cinema (specifically Ozu and Kurosawa...no thanks!), although I don't mind a Kar Wai Wong, Chan Wook-Park, John Woo, or Zhang Yimou movie as much; don't even get me started on Bollywood.

But what can you do, right? I know what I like and I do a good job of liking it a lot.

Since narrowing down the history of foreign cinema to thirteen films is hardly an easy task, I'm sure there are many y'all think were left out. I encourage you to share your own list in the comments below.

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Bow Your Head in Shame as Dubai Unveils Highest Swimming Pool in the World

The Burj Khalifa under construction

It is on the 76th floor of the new Burj Khalifa skyscraper, in the Arab Emirate of Dubai, which was unveiled today in an elaborate ceremony that was probably necessary considering the $1.5 billion price tag of the 2,717'-tall building in the middle of a vast desert.

By comparison, the Sears Tower in Chicago is only 1,450 feet tall. Imagine a building almost twice that size and you are beginning to get the picture. There are 160 habitable floors.

The question on many people's lips is...why? There is hardly a shortage of land in Dubai, and therefore no sensible reason to build UP instead of OUT, unless you're trying to impress someone with your brazen lack of common and financial sense, as it would be far cheaper and safer to build horizontally.

Considering the fact that the building is state-owned and the government had to beg its wealthier neighbor, Abu Dhabi, for a $25 billion bailout to finish the project and run its government, color me doubly unimpressed with the end result of the massive human effort that went into this building's construction.

My response to the news that owners of the units in the building have already seen their investments plummet by 50% before they could even move-in is a self-satisfied smile, followed by a biting monologue:

You wanted to brag to some other rich assholes that you bought an entire floor of the tallest building on Earth for $20 million? Fuck you--now one of those rich assholes can buy it from you for $10 million, fill it with $10 million in gold coins, and swim around in them like Scrooge McDuck while giving you the finger on a streaming webcam. And you deserve it.

The world's highest bar is on the 155th floor. The highest mosque in the world may or may not have already been built on the 158th floor (depending on what website you're reading). The building has the fastest elevators in the world.

Does anyone outside of Texas really give a shit about all this pointless dick-measuring?

I guess East Texas (aka Saudi Arabia) does. Supposedly, plans are already in the works to build a taller building there.

The man behind the mile-high tower in Saudi Arabia, Prince al-Walid bin Talal
Doesn't he just look like a selfish, pro-oil, evil mastermind
bent on creating the world's highest brothel, naming it the Mile-High Club,
and hanging out there after a long day of practicing evil faces in the mirror?

When and where will this obsession end? When we finally build a building that reaches all the way to the moon and swivels/stretches as the moon follows its orbit? Does China already have this beauty in the works, or will we see a few more incremental stages between now and that triumphant day? Can we not instead focus our efforts and resources on providing single-story housing for the working poor and affordable alternative-energy for the masses?

Believe it or not, there is way more money in it, fellas...

_

The Top Ten Movies of the Decade, So You Know

Since I would be hard pressed to find even five movies I liked this year, I will instead focus my energies on writing about movies that I love, which comprise a seemingly-mandatory and far grander list--The Best of the '00s.

The Double-Zeros might not have been as rich a decade as the 1990s, which, to refresh your memory, brought us Goodfellas (1990), The Silence of the Lambs (1991), Terminator 2 (1991), The Player (1992), Unforgiven (1992), Husbands and Wives (1992), Dazed and Confused (1993), What's Eating Gilbert Grape? (1993), Red/White/Blue (1993/93/94), Clerks (1994), Natural Born Killers (1994), The Professional (1994), The Shawshank Redemption (1994), Pulp Fiction (1994), Leaving Las Vegas (1995), Braveheart (1995), The Usual Suspects (1995), Toy Story 1+2 (1995/99), Mars Attacks! (1996), Boogie Nights (1997), Run Lola Run (1998), Rushmore (1998), The Thin Red Line (1998), The Big Lebowski (1998), My Best Fiend (1999), Fight Club (1999), and The Matrix (1999), but it was still pretty good.

Don't believe me? Well, read through my list and then let me know what you think.

Without further ado and in no particular order, here are my top ten movies of the decade:


The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)
Wes Anderson didn't exactly have me at hello, as I am not a Bottle Rocket fan, but he wowed me with Rushmore and then topped that teenage-angst gem with easily the most quotable, humorous, beautiful, never-tire-of-watching-it movie of the decade--a true litmus test in terms of cinematic taste. Gene Hackman, Anjelica Huston, Bill Murray, and Owen Wilson in particular shine as part of an ensemble cast most directors would never even dream of chasing, which just goes to show you that good material in clever hands will attract the right talent. This movie is not only hilarious, intelligent, emotional, unpredicatble, and entertaining, but will stand the test of time as one of the most enduringly beloved portraits of an American family.


The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)
In the richest year of the decade, the only awards this movie won were Longest Title and Most Ignored Film of the Year. Going one step further, I would say this movie is easily the most underappreciated movie of my entire lifetime; almost nobody I know has even seen this movie and it stars Brad Pitt. Why? How? Because it is the kind of movie Hollywood has either forgotten how to make or chooses to deprive us of. It is long and dreamy, a delectable character study about two complicated men that unfolds at a glacial pace, contains no love story, and relies on subtleties almost unheard of these days, especially in this country. It might as well be an Italian Western from the 1970s, were it not also gorgeously lush, replete with midnight-blue moonlit prairie landscapes and the gentle roar of endless flora heaving in the wind. The studio wanted to cut it, to change it, to make it more palatable to the Middle American who reads through the paper while he watches a movie and still expects to follow along. Luckily, Brad Pitt was in a position and of a mindset to stand by the director, Andrew Dominik, and the movie remains as it should be. Unluckily, the studio got pissed off and decided to dump the movie into a handful of theaters (only 301 at its peak), with little or no advertising. How did the market respond? A per-screen average of $29,562 in its first week of release; as a comparison, Avatar only averaged $22,313 per screen in its opening week. $3.9 million later, it was pulled from the box office and declared a failure due to its $30 million cost. This movie should have won Best Picture and it wasn’t even nominated; Brad Pitt wasn’t nominated for Best Actor and his performance was right up there with those of Daniel Day-Lewis and Casey Affleck (in Gone Baby Gone); Casey Affleck lost Best Supporting Actor to Javier Bardem for his bone-chilling turn as Robert Ford, in one of the lesser slights. The sad reality is that now there is 'proof' these movies will not work and there may never be one again, short of some kind of game-change that is hopefully on the horizon and will usher us into a modern-day auteur period similar to the 1970s. But I ain't holdin' my breath. In the meantime, see this movie if you haven't already.


The Incredibles (2004)
Pixar has put out some fantastic movies, but The Incredibles is the best because it truly had it all. It was a heartwarming family movie that still kept an edge to it, a successful comedy, and a riveting superhero movie all rolled-up into one lightning-fast, easy-to-swallow, computer-animated package. Brad Bird’s finest effort, although I also loved Iron Giant and portions of Ratatouille--especially the moment where the evil food critic flashes back to the kitchen of his provincial youth.


Gone Baby Gone (2007)
I hate Ben Affleck. Or so I thought until I saw his first directorial effort, which also featured one of the best performances of the year from his brother Casey, who rivaled only himself in Jesse James and Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood. The movie is a straightforward, intriguing Boston mystery with a likable sleuth in a very believable and sympathetic struggle to prove himself to those around him. A good movie is easy to make if you just let a handful of talented artists make it happen, without the meddling of nervous financial-types bungling things up at every turn--are you listening, studios?


Dogville (2003)
What a performance by Nicole Kidman--one of the best of the decade. I generally find her unlikable, but the mixture of glamour and vulnerability she brings to the rich character of Grace is captivating. Lars von Trier's conceit in this movie--no real sets, just white lines on a black floor in a huge soundstage--succeeds on the strength of the acting and the writing and is as good a tale as any of the hypocrisy that forever weighs down the otherwise lofty American dream. Essentially, what he says in Dogville is that a large part of why the country is where it is today is because we just can't help ourselves, we become our own worst enemies, despite our fervent claims of goodness and morality (sound familiar, Republicans?). When I left the theater afterwards, I had one of those heady evenings where anything was possible and everything was beautiful in its tragedy. If only Nicole Kidman hadn't spent the entire marketing budget on her hair/make-up/food/hotel in Cannes, maybe others would have been able to share that magical feeling...


Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
Easily my favorite of Charlie Kaufman’s unique and complex scripts (although I did have a soft spot for Synecdoche, New York), directed beautifully by Michel Gondry. The story is interesting--a woman erases her ex-boyfriend from her mind without telling him and he has to figure this out for himself since she no longer knows who he is--and its unique structure and occasional dreamlike quality keep you on your toes as the blanks are only gradually filled in. Jim Carrey shines in a serious role, proving he’s got chops, and Kate Winslet is her usual Best-Actress self. Proves that a romance can be compelling, visually interesting, emotional, funny, and hip. And that Mark Ruffalo and David Cross are still great.


There Will Be Blood (2007)
I’m a huge fan of P.T. Anderson and even thought of placing Punch-Drunk Love on this list, but while I enjoyed that movie considerably, it didn't have the lasting impact of There Will Be Blood. There is something fascinating and attractive about a tale of unfettered American greed played out on the rough-and-tumble vast frontier, the rise and fall of a flawed dreamer who isn’t afraid to lie and cheat to get what he wants, to build a good life for him and his son at any cost. Daniel Day-Lewis’ performance is one of his best (up there with My Left Foot) in large part because the role had meat, baby--meat. Add to that a fine portrayal of the lip-service business pays to religion, in order to peacefully rape the people, and you've got yourself a goddamn epic.


Che, Part One: The Argentine (2008)
I watched the two-part, traveling-roadshow version of Che and was very impressed. A long time in the making, its future forever in doubt, I wasn’t sure what to expect and was therefore doubly impressed by Steven Soderbergh and Benicio Del Toro’s understated character study of an indelible figure I knew little about. Soderbergh’s decision to end Part 1 before the revolution rolled into Havana for a victory lap was bold, but commendable because while it withholds that moment of exultation from the audience, it reminds you that this is not a movie about the Cuban revolution, Fidel Castro, or war--it is a movie about Che and he was a man who cared more about the actual cause, improving the fate of the impoverished and abused everyman, than he did about wealth and glory, pomp and circumstance. Part 2 was not as enjoyable as the first mostly because it is a darker, colder movie about Che’s failure to perform the same miracle in Bolivia, about the deluded Bolivian peasants unwilling to risk anything for a better life, about how and why The Man stays in power; it is far more depressing than the triumphant opening half and grew almost excruciating to watch, although that is more due to the subject matter than any filmmaking choices.


Lost in Translation (2003)
As formless as this movie is, as annoying as it is to try to identify with a main character who seems to do little but sit on windowsills in her underwear and think about her future, the undeniable truth about this movie is that I always enjoy watching it and will continue to enjoy watching it every so often for the rest of my life. A big reason for that, of course, is the career performance from Bill Murray, but another is the crafty direction by Sofia Coppola that matches the formless, adventurous exploration of everyday Tokyo with the formlessness of Charlotte's (Scarlett Johansson) life. Ultimately, all we really know about her is that she is a smart young girl in Tokyo with her absent boyfriend, unsure of what to do with her life, with herself, and befriends Bill Murray, who is in a similar boat. Together they wander through an enchanting foreign city falling into an impossible, unspoken love. As frustrating as it is to not know what Mr. Murray whispers to Scarlett at the end, I think it’s better that way, since I believe the message of the movie is that we shouldn’t be so concerned about how our lives measure up against our dreams--we should simply take the time to enjoy everything the world throws at us and carry on with a smile. Sometimes you don’t get to hear what other people whisper to each other and sometimes you don’t get your movie tied up with a bow at the end--that doesn’t mean it wasn’t an enthralling experience you should savor.


Kill Bill (2003/04)

I hesitated about putting this on the list for two reasons:

1. They are two separate movies that I think should have remained one long one, as written

2. Regardless of that, I'm still not sure if it is good enough, but I can't think of anything else I would rather put here

Pulp Fiction is one of my all-time favorites, but other than that, I’m not the biggest fan of QT. Here's why: Reservoir Dogs ain’t my cup of tea, Jackie Brown bored me, Inglorious Basterds was tremendously flawed and tremendously borrowed (with a particularly great debt to Leone)...and I have read some rather compelling evidence that much of the writing of Reservoir Dogs, True Romance, and Pulp Fiction was actually that of his former writing partner, Roger Avary, who was often uncredited or under-credited and never allowed to share the stage or accolades with Tarantino. After Pulp Fiction, he finally told Tarantino to go fuck himself and now has a complex about talking to people about anything at parties, in case they steal his thoughts. Avary went on to write and direct The Rules of Attraction and Glitterati (both adapted from Bret Easton Ellis books), and did a pretty damn good job, so it seems unlikely that he is some lightweight whining about credit where it isn't due. Is this dissolved partnership the reason why Tarantino's movies aren’t that good anymore? Probably. The same could be said for Wes Anderson post-Owen Wilson collaboration (they co-wrote Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, and The Royal Tenenbaums), since his movies now lack a lot of the humor Wilson clearly brought to the table. All that aside, Kill Bill was pretty enjoyable. I love Uma Thurman and she shines in the role of an ass-kicking jilted bride out for revenge. There's just enough comedy, action, tongue-in-cheek excess, and crudeness to hold my attention and make me smile. My favorite parts are probably the training she undergoes with Pai Mei in Vol.2 and the two lush versions of the wedding in the remote chapel. And the part in the beginning where she discovers a male nurse has been selling her pussy while she was in a coma.


Okay, and now for the Honorable Mentions:

Mulholland Drive (2001)

The first half of this movie--when it was a compelling mystery involving an amnesiac victim and an impossibly sexy actress-cum-detective (Naomi Watts, in her finest performance)--should have won Best Picture that year. However, once the characters flip-flopped for the third time and the story scattered in the air like so many dandelion seeds, I stopped giving a shit and just wanted it to end. That is why it did not win, was not even nominated, and why I do not care for David Lynch.

V for Vendetta (2005)

A bit heavy-handed, yes, but that's kinda how dystopias work, wouldn't you agree? I enjoyed this movie both times I watched it and I think it deserves more credit than it gets--especially in these hard times when the middle finger of The Man has never been more apparent and because of the really cool posters that owe a great debt to communists. Hugo Weaving (in a mask the whole time) and Natalie Portman are both great in their roles as subversives fighting a 1984ish regime in England and the ending is supremely satisfying. Check it out on Netflix!

Zoolander (2001) + Superbad (2007)

Ah, the oft-ignored comedy. Always overlooked by Oscar, but never by audiences. These two are my two favorite comedies of the decade but, alas, neither was good enough to make the top ten of the decade (we're not talking about The Big Lebowski here, are we?). Superbad is thus far the only movie to take full advantage of the supremely-talented, if a bit one-dimensional, Michael Cera (aka George Michael, may he rest in peace for the timebeing) and uses co-writer Seth Rogen the way he should be used--as a fat guy in a supporting role whose only job is to deliver some laughs, not carry the emotional weight of the movie. Jonah Hill is also good, if way-too-unbelievable as a boyfriend to the sexy girl in the end, and I enjoyed supporting turns from Bill Hader and Joe Lo Truglio, as well; the McLovin dude can go to hell, if you ask me. Zoolander, meanwhile, is a brilliant send-up of the fashion world featuring perfect performances from Owen Wilson, Will Ferrell, Jon Voight, Jerry Stiller, and, yes, Ben Stiller. The orange mocha frappuccino scene is one of my favorites.

Hancock (2008) + Iron Man (2008)

My two favorite blockbusters of the decade. In fact, 2008 was the year of “the blockbuster that was worth a damn,” as far as I’m concerned (in this decade, anyway--neither of them can hold a candle to Back to the Future, the best blockbuster of all time). Why? Because they focused on interesting characters that were played by charming, talented actors well-suited for the roles. Iron Man would not have worked without Robert Downey Jr, just as Hancock wouldn’t have worked without Will Smith, as much as I generally loath that guy post-Fresh Prince. [Notice neither of these films employed hacks like Shia LeDoof] The effects, the action, the predictable plots...whatever--the movies held my attention, made me laugh, had me rooting for the characters, and I enjoyed the ride. Wish I could say the same for the other several dozen bloated blockbuster bags of shit...

Thoughts?

_

Fat Friday Vol.3

Looking for a New Year's resolution? Try losing 100 pounds this year.

Regardless of your starting weight, this seems like a good idea to me, as it will not only result in extremely fat people becoming less revolting, but also less traffic on the roads when you consider how many normal people will starve themselves to death or amputate vital limbs.

Huzzah!

Where does one acquire a shirt of this size?

_

Dick Clark's Reanimated Corpse Ushers in Yet Another New Year

This was the best shot on the roll

Not sure how many of you caught it because, let's be honest, why would you, but while I was being tortured by a ruthless serial killer earlier this evening in a dingy garage across the street from Paramount Studios, I happened to catch some of the Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve with Ryan Seacrest and it was...jaw-dropping.

Ole Dick's dayglo orange skin, drooling, and glassy unblinking eyes aside, he was nearly incomprehensible and sounded more than mildly retarded. And he was probably wearing a soiled diaper. Did his people really think this was a good idea? Did the network execs really think this was a good idea? Did he even realize what was happening?

Children are watching this program and that...creature...is something you just can't erase from a child's memory. It's not like he's a retarded kid and you figure, "aw--well, it's nice he's on TV. Probably made his life." This is Dick Clark. This is New Year's Eve. Is he so egocentric that the show cannot legally go on without him, regardless of whether or not it is a good idea? Will a jar of his ashes get a mandated close-up in the years to come?

Or is there something more sinister afoot?


Have the numerous mad scientists in his employ finally managed to fuse Dick Clark's living tissue to the concept of New Years Eve? They said it could never be done, but...were they wrong? Will New Years never again be possible without several creepy minutes of footage featuring Dick Clark's embalmed corpse brought to life by a drunk ventriloquist?

I sure hope so.

I also hope J.Lo gets a slap in the face from somebody for wearing this ridiculous outfit on the show last night:



And that the drunk ventriloquist can countdown more successfully next year:



Oh, and by the way--I escaped from that serial killer by using my cunning. He is now safely (?) behind bars in a prison made entirely from frozen Eggo waffles (the real reason for the shortage--sorry middle America) that will orbit the Earth for eternity. Thanks for asking...

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The Sad Truth About Kingsley Amis

His wikipedia entry is more interesting than his celebrated, supposedly-comic, first novel, Lucky Jim, which I read cover-to-cover yesterday while recovering from the bends after a particularly strenuous deep-sea recovery mission which took me to the bottom of the Mariana Trench.

To wit:

Amis was by his own admission and as revealed by his biographers a serial adulterer for much of his life. Not surprisingly, this was one of the main contributory factors in the breakdown of his first marriage. A famous photograph of a sleeping Amis on a Yugoslav beach shows the slogan (written by wife Hilly) on his back "1 Fat Englishman - I fuck anything".

In one of his memoirs, Amis wrote: "Now and then I become conscious of having the reputation of being one of the great drinkers, if not one of the great drunks, of our time". He suggests that this is due to a naive tendency on the part of his readers to apply the behaviour of his characters to himself. This was disingenuous; the fact was that he enjoyed drink, and spent a good deal of his time in pubs. Hilary Rubinstein, who commissioned Lucky Jim, commented: "I doubted whether Jim Dixon would have gone to the pub and drunk ten pints of beer ... I didn't know Kingsley very well, you see. Clive James comments: "All on his own, he had the weekly drinks bill of a whole table at the Garrick Club even before he was elected. After he was, he would get so tight there that he could barely make it to the taxi."

Amis was, however, adamant in his belief that inspiration did not come from a bottle: "Whatever part drink may play in the writer's life, it must play none in his or her work. That this was certainly the case is attested to by Amis's highly disciplined approach to writing. For 'many years', Amis imposed a rigorous daily schedule upon himself in which writing and drinking were strictly segregated. Mornings were devoted to writing with a minimum daily output of 500 words. The drinking would only begin around lunchtime when this output had been achieved. Amis's prodigious output would not have been possible without this kind of self discipline.

Nevertheless, according to Clive James, Amis reached a turning point when his drinking ceased to be social, and became a way of dulling his remorse and regret at his behaviour toward Hilly. "Amis had turned against himself deliberately ... it seems fair to guess that the troubled grandee came to disapprove of his own conduct." His friend Christopher Hitchens said: "The booze got to him in the end, and robbed him of his wit and charm as well as of his health."

(courtesy wikipedia.org)

I will spare you a selection from his novel, as there is no point in boring you any more than I already have. Perhaps Take A Girl Like You or The Old Devils are better; perhaps I will never find out.

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Children: Are They a Good Idea?

Most people would say yes without having to think about it, but these people haven't learned the value of thinking things through before answering a question.

Let's dissect the issue like informed adults, shall we?

Pros:
- Generally speaking, they're pretty fucking cute
- When everybody else abandons you, they will usually hang around
- They say the darnedest things
- Their love is unconditional, as long as you give them exactly what they want
- Their black-market value is consistently pretty high, which is good to know if you're the kind of chap who's often in a pinch

Cons:
- They cost a lot of money to maintain
- They cry a lot, steal things, shit themselves, and always want food
- They take up a lot of your time
- They can't take care of themselves when you want to get really drunk and/or spontaneously hop a plane to Ecuador
- They lengthen relationships that are otherwise totally endable
- They always need to be driven around
- They propagate the human race

That last one may seem at first glance like it should be a Pro, but think about this:

If there were no more children, there would be no crying babies on public transportation, 15-year-old girls wouldn't dominate the entertainment marketplace, every movie could be rated NC17, more husbands could buy sports cars with a clear conscience, single women in their late twenties could stop freaking out, everybody would either get way more sleep or party every night, pedophilia would be eliminated, adults would have more disposable income, assholes would become a finite resource, and nobody would need to worry about global warming, overpopulation, or being a role model.

It's sounding better already, isn't it? At the same time, maybe we'd better sleep on this one before we do anything rash...

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Jesus Wants Revenge

Most Christians believe that Jesus died for our sins, that he heroically took whatever violence Pilot had to offer if not with a wry smile, at least without a tear.

What if Pilot just had a great PR team and this is not the case? I mean, none of us were there. Nobody we know was there. As far as we know, the world is only about 100 years old and everything from ancient artifacts to pyramids to the moon landing was faked by Hollywood effects personnel hired by Halliburton to confuse/mollify us.

What if Jesus was pissed off, felt betrayed by his only friends, tricked by his father, and desperately did not want to die, begged for his life like a sniveling Nancyboy, even offered his soul to the devil for one more day running through the long grass along the river at sunset?

What if this whole time Vengeful Jesus has been flying around the world like a mischievous ghost, wearing a white sheet over his head, causing trouble wherever he can, putting evil thoughts in people's heads, and biding his time until the 2000th anniversary of his murder, when he plans to drop the big one on us?


It is just as likely as anything else ever postulated about this chap, you realize. People like to think he is nice and sweet as he beatifically looks down on Earth from the heavens, but people like to think George Bush and Katherine Heigl are sweet--it doesn't make it true.

With the 2000th anniversary of his death looming within reach--in 2030--most of us will live to see this day. Should we be scared? Will this factor into the plot of Roland Emmerich's parting turd, as he prepares to leave this world at the ripe old age of 75?

Roland, if you're reading this right now, swallow an entire bottle of sleeping pills and finish that vodka in the freezer. Because I said so.

If you ignored me and you're still reading this, I've already got the tagline/poster, asshole:

2030

We Should Have Expected It After What We Did

I get five points off the gross of every movie you make from now on and we call it even.

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I Can See the Future

And in that future, some punk 5th grader will point his iPhone at the smart kid and an alarm will sound:

Nerd-alert! Nerd-alert!

The smart, awkward kid will turn red in the face. If he's lucky the teacher will come over to intervene, but the punk will immediately shift the blame.

"What? I didn't say it--Google Goggles did! And it's never wrong!"

Of course, it will be a customized Google Goggles, with various messages attached to pictures the punk takes of everybody he knows ("Well, Miranda, I don't know what to tell you, but it says you're the girl who's going to blow me in the back of the bus today..."), but the teacher doesn't need to know that.

What is Google Goggles, you ask? Well, it is this:

The world, like the World Wide Web before it, is about to be hyperlinked. Soon, you may be able to find information about almost any physical object with the click of a smartphone.

This vision, once the stuff of science fiction, took a significant step forward this month when Google unveiled a smartphone application called Goggles. It allows users to search the Web, not by typing or by speaking keywords, but by snapping an image with a cellphone and feeding it into Google’s search engine.

How tall is that mountain on the horizon? Snap and get the answer. Who is the artist behind this painting? Snap and find out. What about that stadium in front of you? Snap and see a schedule of future games there.

Goggles, in essence, offers the promise to bridge the gap between the physical world and the Web.

(courtesy NYTimes.com)

Although I can certainly see benefits to this application/database, if used to augment a normal education/existence, there is also something disconcerting about it.

Thanks to word processors, hardly anybody knows how to spell these days. Thanks to cell phones, nobody remembers phone numbers or even writes them down. Thanks to GPS, most people have no idea where they are going in their own hometown.

In a few more generations of smart phones, or at least in a few more generations of users, many people will have in their pockets a consistent excuse to never know anything, to retain nothing, to depend on their phone as a replacement brain.

Are we becoming too dependent on technology? Will some evil mastermind slowly fuck over humanity by hacking into the Google database and subtly creating an alternate reality, biding his time before shutting down our outsourced brain and taking over a new world populated by blithering idiots suddenly unable to navigate their own subdivision, call each other, or differentiate between an orange and a hand grenade? Will people in the future see reality like the Keanu Reeves in The Matrix, but none of it will make any sense?

I'd like to say that this is an absurd notion--in league with my daydream that some deviously clever Luddite is behind the emergence of fully-keyless automobiles, as part of a brilliant plan to freeze them all in place one fateful day and show us the error of our ways-- but the annals of history overfloweth with reasons to be wary of evil men bent on world domination, the consolidation of information, and over-dependence on technology.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens. Meanwhile, I grow more uncomfortable with the realities made possible by the clever and efficient folks at Google.

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Dick James

(photo by Goodtime Charlie - Caesar's Palace, LV, NV)

Eureka!

I have finally discovered the link between Lennon/McCartney and Elton John/Bernie Taupin, two of the greatest musical partnerships the world has ever known.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Dick James, courtesy of wikipedia:

Early Life

He was born in the East End of London.

Early days

James sang with North London dance bands in his early teens, and was a regular vocalist at the Cricklewood Palais by the age of seventeen. He joined the Henry Hall band, and made first radio broadcast in 1940. Joining the Army in 1942, after World Was II he continued to sing with top post-war bands, including Geraldo's. Later still, James was also a part time member of The Stargazers, a popular early 1950s vocal group.

He was the singer of the Robin Hood and The Buccaneers theme songs, from British television in the 1950s, and was a friend and associate of renowned record producer George Martin.

Switch to publishing

James entered the music publishing business as his singing career tapered off, and in 1963 established Northern Songs Ltd., with Beatles John Lennon and Paul McCartney, to publish Lennon and McCartney's original songs. (Fellow Beatles George Harrison and Ringo Starr were also signed to Northern Songs as songwriters, but did not renew their contracts in 1968). James's company, DIck James Music, administered Northern Songs.

What initially began as an amicable working relationship between the Beatles and James disintegrated by the late 1960s; the Beatles considered that James had betrayed and taken advantage of them when he sold Northern Songs in 1969 without offering the band an opportunity to buy control of the publishing company. James profited handsomely from the sale of Northern Songs, but the Beatles never again had the rights to their own songs.

During the 1960s he also handled Billy J. Kramer and Gerry & The Pacemakers.

Later Days

James signed Elton John and his lyricist Bernie Taupin as untried unknowns in 1967, and formed DJM Records in '69. Indeed, all of John's early releases (up to 1976) were issued on the DJM record label. The label also carried Jasper Carrott, RAH Band, and even John Inman.

John formed his own Rocket label in 1976, but in 1982, John was involved in a long court case with James about royalties.

Death

James died of an heart attack in early 1986, at the age of 65.

Dick James, the leftmost of the two dorks in this photo

The guy sounds like he was probably a real asshole, but according to a story that I read once, he got Elton John and Bernie Taupin together via a classified ad, so ya gotta at least give him credit for that oh-so-perfect marriage of poet and musician.

Speaking of Elton John, he may not have handled his balding, age, or gayness as well as he should have and currently resembles a fat, depressed, androgynous penguin, but the guy used to be pretty cool:






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