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“Again with the negative waves, Moriarty!”

Monday, August 23rd, 2010

Again with the negative waves!

Once again, the media are filled with negative vibes about our economy, utterly heedless of the fact that the central tenet of the Warthen School of Economics is that “the economy” is an utterly abstract and theoretical thing built from collective emotions, and that the greatest single cause of “bad economic conditions” is negative thoughts regarding the economy.

This time, my beef is with this headline in the Columbia Regional Business Report:

Final accounting for S.C. fiscal ’10 paints grim financial picture

Thing is, the story (by my old friend Jim Hammond) is actually about what already happened with the state budget, which is fine. What gets me is that the headline implies bad economic times ahead. At least that’s the way I erroneously read it. And headlines are enough to make things bad.

To end with the words with which Oddball ends the above serious of clips, Why don’t you say something righteous and hopeful for a change?

And yeah, I’m kind of being facetious here. I just wanted an excuse to run the Oddball clips from “Kelly’s Heroes.” This, by the way, was what I was looking for earlier when I ran across the Kerouac clip.

Go see ‘Inception’ — even I plan to do so

Friday, July 16th, 2010

Why am I recommending a movie I haven’t seen? Because of this: It’s being held up as a big gamble on originality in a time when studios don’t want to bet on anything but mind-numbing sequels to proven money-makers:

The $160 million surreal thriller, based on an original screenplay about dreams and a group of thieves who steal them for profit, represents something of a rarity in an era when movie executives are choosing to base their biggest summer films on remakes, comic book characters, videogames and toys.
If “Inception” succeeds—and a lot of people in Hollywood are rooting for a hit—it could mark a new turn for an industry that loves to think of itself as delivering fine art to the masses. The film embodies Hollywood’s aspirations of melding high-concept art and high-flying commerce, with all the risks and potential rewards such a combination can entail.
“I think everybody is looking to this movie as proof of concept that new franchises can succeed and you don’t just have to re-tread old material,” says Stephen Prough, co-founder of Salem Partners, a boutique investment bank with a specialty in media and entertainment.

Never mind that the movie might not be any good, as this review indicates in the same edition of the WSJ in which I read the above. The thing is, if studios are thinking, “If this makes money, we’ll take a chance on original scripts more,” then I want them to make money. It’s a rather simplistic calculation, but hey, we’re trying to influence fairly simplistic people here (the backers of movies).

I figure, if they make money on this, maybe we’ll see some original flicks that are actually good. It’s worth the price of a ticket to try, anyway.

Normally, I don’t go to the theater to see anything — I wait for Netflix. But I figure, if we can encourage the studios in this, maybe the choices on Netflix will get better.

Burl’s tribute to Harvey Pekar

Friday, July 16th, 2010

Burl Burlingame posted this over on his blog. It’s something he did about Harvey Pekar and “American Splendor” at about the time the movie with Paul Giamatti came out. Way back

Bet you didn’t know Burl was this multi-talented. Well, he always has been. Back in high school, he published his own underground newspaper which included his own cartoons. And you should hear him play harmonica.

Anyway, I dug the Pekar piece, and thought y’all might, too.

Where’s Leighton? There he is!

Monday, July 5th, 2010

Did you ever see Antonioni’s “Blow-Up”? If you haven’t, you should — it’s a classic. It’s also wonderfully goofy after all these years to see the ’60s notion of a hip young professional photographer in swingin’ mod London. See him drive around in his convertible sports car while talking on his extremely cumbersome car phone! Oooohhh. (David Hemmings’ character was one of the influences on Mike Myers in his creation of Austin Powers.)

Anyway, to summarize the plot (spoiler alert!), basically it’s about a photographer who takes some perfectly innocent pictures in the park, but when he processes the film and makes a print, he notices something odd in the background, in the bushes about 50 years behind his subject. So he blows it up. Then he shoots the print, processes that film, then blows it up again. And again. (Thereby severely straining the capabilities of 35 mm film, but hey, he’s a professional.) I won’t tell you what he saw, because I don’t want to spoil the plot entirely.

To my point: I often have that experience of finding unexpected things going on in my photos. It happened when I used film because film is a big mystery until it’s processed. Shoot a crowd or action when there’s too little time for your brain to take it all in, and the film will reveal secrets to you after it’s processed. For instance, take a look at the photo at right, which I shot on film at the 2004 Republican National Convention in New York. (This was a time of technological transition. I was shooting rolls of film at the convention, then taking the rolls to a Duane Reade to be processed and put on a CD for me.) I had just asked Triumph, the Insult Comic Dog to pose for a portrait (there I go name-dropping again), but only later did I notice Larry King in the background. At least, I think it’s Larry King. The grain and focus are such that I can’t be entirely sure, just as the character in “Blow-Up” had trouble being certain about what he was seeing.

Today, this happens with digital photography for a different reason. Sure, you can immediately look at what you just shot. But you can’t see detail unless you zoom in, and besides, who has time to stop and look at individual exposures? I certainly don’t, because I am shooting so many. I used to go through a roll of film in minutes, but that’s nothing to the  number I shoot now. Film at least imposed some fire discipline; there was always a sense that your film was finite. But with an 8-gig card in my camera, discipline is gone entirely.

So it could be hours, days, or longer before I go through the images on my laptop and see what I have. And I find little surprises.

For instance, at the Gamecocks’ victory parade Friday, I happened to turn and take a picture of the two ADCO interns standing behind me in the crowd. I needed a picture of them to post on ADCO’s site, and this was an opportunity.

Only later did I spot our erstwhile candidate for attorney general, Leighton Lord, behind them. At right you can see what the picture would have looked like when Hemmings’ got through blowing it up (and yes, I created the blur, grain, and b/w effect in PhotoShop — the original was much sharper, even blown up).

And when I saw him, the irony struck me: Alan Wilson was much in evidence at the center of attention. He and his Dad had a regular convoy of vehicles in the parade — at least three, with kids passing out campaign stickers left and right. (I didn’t get a picture of Alan — I was too busy shooting the cars, especially the beautiful red T-bird — but here’s one of him from another parade over the weekend. Those Wilsons love a parade.)

But there is Leighton Lord, standing alone, looking away. Ironic. Poignant, one might say. Except that the camera doesn’t tell all. Actually, he was talking to his father-in-law Gayle Averyt, whom I spotted next to him in yet another exposure.

I’ve got so many thousands of exposures like this of crowds, sometimes with famous people here and there in them. Maybe I should do a “children’s” book for grownups, only instead of “Where’s Waldo?” it would be “Where’s Rudy Giuliani? Where’s George Bush? Where’s Bill Clinton?” and so forth. Think it would sell?

Fun Post I: Abe Froman tribute

Tuesday, June 15th, 2010

This promises to be a long and hairy day, with GOP lawmakers in the House poised to knuckle under to a discredited governor’s indefensible vetoes.

So I thought I’d start it with some fun, to give us the strength to bear it all.

I’ll start with this really awesome tribute video I found on YouTube last night. How did I find it? Well, I was posting that item about the death of Jimmy Dean, and I said something about him being the Sausage King of America, which of course was a play on Abe Froman, the Sausage King of Chicago, and I went looking for a link to explain that for those of you who are not well schooled in Ferris Bueller, and I ran across this. (And yes, I linked to it yesterday, but y’all don’t always follow links.)

Enjoy.

A Memorial Day truce, and other reflections

Monday, May 31st, 2010

As I was firing up the grill about midday, between rainstorms, I glanced at Twitter and was pleased to find this:

RT @AntonJGunn: Remembering my brother Cherone Gunn and his ship mates this Memorial Day.http://twitpic.com/1srfpw

For those of you not yet addicted to Twitter, what’s going on there is that Joe Wilson was reTweeting — that is, sharing with all of his 14,000 followers, Anton Gunn’s sharing of his memory of his brother, Cherone L. Gunn, who was one of the sailors killed on the USS Cole when it was attacked by al Qaeda the year before the 9/11 attacks.

Yes, that was Joe “You Lie” Wilson honoring the brother of the same Anton Gunn whom GOP candidate Sheri Few attacks as a dangerous socialist.

So it is that we set aside our pettier conflicts in the memory of something higher and better.

We all marked the day in our own ways. Burl went by Punchbowl to honor his parents and Ernie Pyle. For my part, I cooked out burgers and hot dogs for as many members of my family as could make it (only three of my kids, but all four granddaughters). Then I made another run with the truck to help one of my daughters get moved out of an apartment. Then I took a nap.

When I woke up, just a little while ago, I watched the end of Clint Eastwood’s “Flags of Our Fathers.”

It ended a little differently from the book, which I just finished reading last week. It ended with the scene of young “Doc” Bradley and some of the other boys splashing in the surf at Iwo Jima. After they had raised the flag over Mt. Suribachi, in a brief interlude in the fighting, some officer had the quirky idea of letting the guys go for a swim. There were weeks of nightmarish fighting against an unseen enemy yet to come, and three of the six flagraisers would be killed before it was over.

The point the narrator was making as we watched them was that they would probably rather be remembered that way, rather than as heroes. Yes, they were heroes, although not for raising a flag. They were heroes for all the other things they did on Iwo Jima, before and after that. Doc Bradley won the Navy Cross for exposing himself to withering enemy fire to treat a wounded Marine (he was a Navy corpsman). He never told his family about the medal; they learned about it after he died in 1994. He didn’t want to be known for that. He just wanted to live his life, build a business and raise his family.

The narrator closes with some words about how they didn’t perform their acts of heroism for flags, or their country, or for abstractions. They did it for each other. Which is what researchers who have studied the way men act in combat have discovered over and over. It’s all about the guy next to you. It’s about your buddies. Nothing profound about that, except that most people who’ve never been in combat probably don’t know it. The implication in this case is that once you’re separated from those buddies, by death or distance, the “heroism” doesn’t mean so much. And it’s just plain bizarre to be celebrated as heroes in the midst of the hoopla of the 7th Bond Drive, the way Bradley and Rene Gagnon and Ira Hayes were. Ira never could handle it, and ended up drinking himself to death. Rene never could get over the fact that his fame didn’t lead to fortune, and was disappointed. Only Doc Bradley seemed to get it together and live a normal, full, satisfying life after the war. Even though he would whimper and cry in the night, and never tell his wife why.

When forced to speak before crowds in the years after the battle, Bradley and the others would tell the people that they weren’t the heroes; the heroes were the ones who didn’t make it. Guys like Mike Strank — or, to go beyond the six, the most famous hero to die on that cinder: John Basilone, who had received the Medal of Honor for his actions on Guadalcanal and never had to fight again, but insisted on going back, and died on the first day of the battle for Iwo (earning the Navy Cross in the process). But that’s the conventional notion of a hero, and not necessarily what they meant.

Talk about messages… The instant I turned off the DVD player from watching “Flags of Our Fathers,” the TV switched to Henry’s “Vultures” ad, just to remind us of the nonsense facing us in the coming week.

What a bringdown, from heroism and the finest selflessness our nation is capable of, to that, which is if anything an appeal to the opposite…

Punchbowl National Cemetery in Punchbowl crater on Oahu.

I’ll say this for ‘Avatar 3D’: It’s better than ‘Inglourious Basterds’

Monday, May 24th, 2010

At the very last moment, as the DVD was being released, I went to see “Avatar” in 3D last Thursday night.

It certainly wasn’t as good as its besotted admirers would have it. Nor was it as bad as Jeff Vrabel claimed, although I enjoyed his iconoclastic take on it.

On the plus side, I’ve never seen anything like it, in terms of the visuals. It was richly beautiful, in spite of the Viewmaster distraction of 3D. Which is better than it used to be, but still not convincing — yeah, it looks like things exist in more than one plane, but the items that pop out in front seem themselves to be flat, 2D, like figures in a pop-up book, not realistic at all. You are conscious of the artifice of it at all times (not to mention the fact that anything I’m not looking straight at is out of focus — although maybe that was the effect of wearing 3D glasses OVER my prescription specs). If you want to make something seem real, give me the chiaroscuro cinematography of “The Godfather,” which went much further toward making me feel I was there than these cheap tricks.

I’ll also say the premise, the central plot conceit, is also intriguing — the idea of a character projecting his avatar into a reality (as opposed to a computer-generated virtual reality) that he can’t otherwise enter. Although I have to say that it SOUNDED better, when I read it in advance, than it worked in the film.

On the other hand, there’s the plot. As my son said as we left the theater, he thought it was better done in “Dances With Wolves.” I wouldn’t condemn it quite that strongly, since I regard “Dances With Wolves” as one of the worst films ever made (although nowhere near as bad as the David Lynch abomination, “Dune”). The problem with “Wolves” was it’s triteness, exacerbated by the fact that Hollywood acted as though it was profound and original. (Folks, Mark Twain thought the whole “Noble Red Man” theme had been done to death by James Fenimore Cooper in the first half of the 19th century, and I’m inclined to agree.) At least “Avatar” gives it a new twist, and the dazzling visuals help you forget that you’re watching yet another screed on how wicked white men are — especially corporate white men and military white men. Got it. People in positions of power do bad things sometimes. Noted.

It was particularly interesting for me that I saw this in the middle of reading Flags of Our Fathers, a thoughtful examination of a time in which this country actually celebrated its military and its core culture, to the point of exaggeration that was painful to the subjects of adulation — especially the real-life Noble Red Man Ira Hayes, who ended up drinking himself to death back in the days before we invented the diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress. (Fascinating anecdote illustrating the complexity of actual heroism: When fellow flag-raiser Rene Gagnon was identified and was about to be whisked from the troop ship to Washington to be celebrated, Hayes warned him that if Gagnon told the brass that he, Hayes, was also one of the flag-raisers, he would kill him. When Gagnon ratted him out anyway, Hayes didn’t kill him, but never spoke to him as he gradually killed himself.)

But if you set all that aside, “Avatar” was quite enjoyable. I wouldn’t mind seeing it again, without the distraction of 3D. I’m leaving it in my Netflix queue.

Speaking of Netflix, I’ll say this for “Avatar”: It’s far better than the execrable “Inglourious Basterds.” I’ve never liked Tarantino, but this took my dislike to a new level. Even as satire, even as self-indulgence, this was badly done, as Tarantino went out of his way to trample on any chance that the film had to redeem itself on even the lowest levels. The title, complete with deliberate misspelling, does capture the film perfectly. I’d far rather see a trite re-imagining of the Noble Red Man theme than this desecration of everything in sight, including the Holocaust. That’s all I’m going to say about it.

On the other hand, to end on a high note, the wife and I (thank goodness I wasted my time on “Basterds” while she was out of town) watched “Fever Pitch” — the original with Colin Firth, not the American remake — Saturday night, and it was wonderful. It made me wonder how much better “High Fidelity” might have been had it adhered to the original setting of Nick Hornby’s masterpiece. But then there would have been no Jack Black as Barry, and pop culture would have been poorer…

Did you see “The Hurt Locker”? What did you think? (I gave it 3 stars)

Thursday, May 20th, 2010

Watched “The Hurt Locker” last night. It was good. I’m going to give it three stars on Netflix.

But you know, I would think that a “Best Picture” winner would be a four-star, if not five. So I was disappointed on that count. Among movies I’ve seen recently, it was better than “Men Who Stare At Goats,” “Public Enemies” and “The Invention of Lying,” but not as good as “Up In The Air” (which was awesome) or “Lars and the Real Girl.”

Not that I expect much from the recommendation of Oscar. I’ve pretty much discounted the judgment of the “Academy” ever since it chose “Shakespeare In Love” as Best Picture over “Saving Private Ryan” and “Life is Beautiful.”

SPOILER ALERT: While the makers of this film worked hard to avoid conventions and surprise you, I saw the surprises coming, and saw how the director was working unsuccessfully to prevent me from seeing it. For instance, in the first scene, as you’re being introduced to this bomb-disposal unit, the viewer is manipulated into seeing a certain character as the protagonist: The camera lingers more on his face, he does and says more to reveal character, his words and actions drive the action forward. Also, he’s the only actor I’ve seen before, although I couldn’t quite place him (turns out it’s Guy Pearce, who starred in the very impressive “Memento“). And of course HE is the one killed, which hits you with more impact than if he were a faceless extra, and brings home to you from the very start that any of these guys could be blown to bits at any moment through the rest of the show. Well done, but I saw it coming.

Other things are done well: David Morse in a bit part as the overbearingly enthusiastic, ubermacho colonel who is deeply impressed at an exhibition of bravado by one of the main characters. (That guy always impresses me, from the bad cop on “House” to understated dignity he brought to George Washington in “John Adams.”)

It’s arty — which might be what appealed to the Academy. And thankfully, it’s free of antiwar preachiness, which I have to admit I sort of expected, given Hollywood’s enthusiasm. (Yeah, some might see the violence and the constant tension not knowing which of the civilians around you is really an insurgent as being an argument against our being there, but it’s exactly what I expect war to be like. Antiwar folks probably expect folks like me to think war is like a John Wayne movie, but I probably have an uglier picture of it in my mind than they do, because I read and think about it more. I’m reading Flags of Our Fathers at the moment, and rewatching “The Pacific.”)

But in the end — and yeah, I saw the ending coming, too (you knew what that guy was going to do) — I’m just not going “Wow.”

Have you seen it? Thoughts?

Julie & Julia & me

Thursday, November 26th, 2009

Tonight, after we had done all the cooking we could do the night before, my wife and I went to see a movie. Actually, to be more accurate, my wife had done all the cooking at our house, except for a special-recipe cake I made for myself (no wheat, no dairy, no eggs), since I can’t eat the other desserts we’ll be having.

We went to the dollar-movie house to see “Julie & Julia.” Actually, it used to be the dollar-movie house. Now it’s $2.

Anyway, we went to see the movie, and it was cute and all that, but a bit frustrating for a blogger such as myself.

It’s about a woman who does a blog with a gimmick — she’s going to cook all the recipes in Julia Child’s famous book in a year — and the blog becomes wildly popular, and she gets a book deal, and it’s made into, you guessed it, a movie.

And the thing is, that’s not going to happen to me, which made me a little sad. I don’t have a gimmick. And I don’t have an obsession that thousands of people will resonate to — at least, I’m not aware of one. I’m not even particularly interested in such things. I know the kinds of things that are engaging and commercial, and I’m not that into them.

The obsession that the blog of the woman in the movie was about was food. This is a very chick thing. Excuse me, ladies, but women get excited about food as though it were sex or something. Some men do, too, but I am definitely not one of those men. My diet is limited by my allergies, of course, and that’s part of it, but I’m just not a foodie at heart anyway. I will fully enjoy my Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, but then I’ll take a nap and not think about it any more. I’ve tried waxing enthusiastic about Dixie Lee field peas and candy pumpkins, but I definitely could not imagine blogging exclusively about such a limited subject. (Foodies don’t think food is a limited subject, but there it is…)

Women are always starting wildly successful blogs, read by other women, about food and shopping and their kids and such, but I’m just not that kind of blogger. For that matter, I’m not into the kinds of things guys usually obsess about, either. Sports, for instance. Sports has the potential for a guy to be the kind of blog money-maker that food and shopping are for women. But I’m not, by American standards, into sports.

So what do I have? Well, I’m really, really into those Aubrey-Maturin novels, and I think it would really be cool to spend a year sailing the world in a square-rigged ship, living on dried peas and salt pork, attacking and sinking the king’s enemies, and blogging about it. But I don’t think it’s really feasible. The obstacles are pretty significant.

I’m really into my grandchildren. But cute pictures I take of them would probably wear thin with my readers.

Then, there’s the fact that I am an actual unemployed guy, the epitome of this economic situation. And the truth is, I have not really tapped into that subject. I don’t tell y’all most of what I’m thinking and experiencing because, well, it’s personal. If I went into perfectly frank detail about what this experience is like, it could be interesting. But it could also chase away every job prospect I have. And I can’t imagine it being commercial. Who pays for depressing? I sure wouldn’t. I mean, I’m living it, and I’ve frankly had enough of it.

So anyway — it would be great if I could come up with a gimmick that would make this blog pay off in a big way. Suggestions, anyone?

Getting it wrong, and right, in ‘State of Play’

Thursday, October 29th, 2009


Back on this post, we had a sidebar about the film “State of Play” — Kathryn mentioning that I really should see the original British series, and I will certainly put it in my Netflix queue. As it happens, though, I saw the American film over the weekend, and it was, mediocre.

I’m reminded of it again today because I went by to visit folks at The State, and ran into Sammy Fretwell, and told him I had thought  about him over the weekend. That’s because the one detail the filmmakers got right in Russell Crowe’s depiction of a reporter, aside from the fact that he worked on a ridiculously old PC, was his workspace. I would say “desk,” but this was the sort of workspace that has worked itself up into a fortress, with piles of papers, magazines, newspapers, files, publicity packets, all sorts of stuff in unsteady towers of material dating back 10 years and more, stacked on desk, credenza, nearby filing cabinets, and other items of furniture that can no longer be identified.

I saw that and thought, “Sammy!” (And I say this with all respect; Sammy’s a great newspaperman. He’s awesome. This just happens to be a common characteristic of great newspapermen.)

Beyond that, the screenplay was evidently NOT written by anyone who had ever worked at a newspaper. The characters just weren’t right. And they said ridiculous things that only non-journalists would ever say, such as “sell newspapers.” You know how people who want to criticize a paper for a story say the editors just ran it to “sell newspapers?” That’s always a dead giveaway of a clueless layman. I’ve never met a journalist who spoke or thought in terms of “selling newspapers.” Most journalists didn’t care if you stole it, as long as you read it. Selling was the concern of the business side folks (and a poor job they’ve done of it in recent years, huh?). Another real prize bit of dialogue, which you can hear on the above trailer: “The newspapers can slant this any which way they want to…” Who wrote this stuff?

The one really true bit was during the credits, when they show the Big Story that the movie was about going through the production process and onto the presses. They got that just right. I’m guessing that’s not a tribute to the knowledge of the writers. The producers probably just asked a newspaper to produce a page with this story on it, put it on the presses and run the presses. And THIS part got me. I haven’t really felt nostalgic about the lingering death of my industry, but this simple device of putting the camera on the actual physical processes sort of gave me a lump in the throat — the film coming out of the imagesetter, the plate being made, the plate being fitted onto the press… THAT was real.

But nothing else was. Not even the messy desk, as it turns out. When I mentioned it to Sammy, he said I was behind the times. He took me over to his little fortress in the corner, and it was NEAT. He had gotten permission to take three days off from covering the news and spent the time imposing order. It was freaky.

Sort of made me want to go back and make sure the imagesetters, platemakers and presses were still there…