flicks

“In the beginning, it is always dark.”

November 22, 2008 by krisis

Have you ever watched The NeverEnding Story? You know how the book seems to bleed into Sebastian’s life, with him running afoul of frightening taxidermy during an encounter with G’mork.

Today my life is something like that.

Ever since I I first transferred from Blogger to WordPress in the midst of the first NaBloPoMo (a feat I still can’t believe I engineered), I’ve also been moving backwards though the almost 3000 posts that came before, categorizing them into tidy chunks that tell the stories of my life.

I’m determined to at least categorize back into the year 2000 by the end of the month, and in my surge of personal excavation I’ve become firmly entrenched in the “Behind the Music” portion of my life – recording a seminal album while going through a horrific breakup and a nearly deadly illness. Flirting with potential entanglements Oh, and drinking a lot.

That old, unhappy, unsure me seems so alien in the present day. To catch all of the themes in those old posts I’ve had to do more than read them – I’ve had to put myself in their place. How else to remember that I hatched my plot to break up with Selina as an allegory of why I shouldn’t pull an all-nighter?

In the process of getting into character I feel like those old posts have been slowly transforming my present day life. I Trio “Will It Ever Come,” telling the story of how it was written, and then find myself re-reading the post about recording it in the studio. Yesterday I re-read one lamenting that it was hard to tell if you have a fever when you’re under a spotlight, and last night I replayed the experience at our benefit show – half sick and half in-the-moment.

This evening I have a tickle in my chest that’s scarily reminiscent of the beginnings of my legendary bout of bronchitis and pneumonia that I’m about to be rereading.

The coincidence is starting to become frightening, if only because I’ve now crossed the threshold into the worst month of my life – the torturous rehearsal process for Good Woman of Setzuan, nearly failing classes, the depths of my relationship, deaths in the family.

If this was really The NeverEnding Story I would be able to reach back into the plot to shake me out of the stupor. I remember being five and jumping up and down on the bed in my father’s hotel room, screaming unintelligibly along with Bastian as he inserted himself into Fantasia, first interrupting Atreyu’s conversation with Morla, and later by naming the princess “Moon Child.”

Or, maybe I already have – without knowing it – and the only reason that younger me broke free of his darkness was because I am sitting here, happy and healthy, willing him to get on with his life.

Spike Jonze knows Where the Wild Things Are

November 19, 2008 by krisis

Ain’t It Cool News posted a monstrous, wide-ranging interview with director Spike Jonze, mostly focusing on his unusually organic approach to filming the Maurice Sendak classic Where the Wild Things Are.

If you’ve kept up with the gossip on this flick you know it was originally scheduled for release this holiday season, but its debut is now slated for next year. Was there any truth to the story floated that early test footage was flat and lifeless? The interview says “maybe,” but qualifies that by divulging intriguing details about the process of editing the performance of their child star and creating individual personalities for each of the Wild Things.

Jonze is a master craftsman, and each of the stories that unravel during the interview are fascinating – from his holistic approach to special effects to taking turns with Katherine Keener standing-in as an 8-year-old boy, and his idea to promote the film by having kids talk about their feelings (rather than hawking toys at Burger King).

Fantastic long-form journalism.

Pink Envelopes, Cheerful Weeks, Dark Knights

July 19, 2008 by krisis

I’ve been really dodging my blogging lately. Which, per usual, is indicative of life being actually full-to-the-brim of interestingness that I am simply not diligent enough to record.

Some vignettes:

I received a pink envelope in the mail yesterday, with no return address. Definitely raised some fiancee eyebrows until I opened it and realized it was from the bridal boutique where I just bought the dresses for my groomsladies.

Note to boutique: when dealing with the groom, do not send receipts to him in unmarked pink envelopes. It does not bode well for the eventual wedding.

For the last two weeks we have been slightly less yuppy / slightly more domestic with the addition to our household of Elise’s brother.

Despite my compilation of an exhaustive list of cool things to see and do in Philly, we haven’t done all that much of interest. Yet, I’ve been having a cheerful, excellent time – not just in hanging out with him but in life in general … waking up early, going to bed satisfied with my day.

I half attribute it to having a sibling around to take an interest in, and half to the novelty of having someone who I totally relate to that is not a girl.

(His best quote so far, I think, was “Dave & Busters? That’s like Chucky Cheese with beer, right?)

The downside, if there is one, is that my scant project-oriented time is bisected further than it usually is just with Elise-hanging, which has left less attention for blogging, songwriting, piano-playing, et cetera.

That, and that I finally am starting to understand what it is to have a sibling relationship with someone younger than me (as to opposed to with Lindsay or Erika), and I’m going to be really sad when he’s done with Philly for the summer, because this is definitely a one-time-only thing – next summer he’ll be looking at colleges and then he’ll be out in the world on his own and we won’t be the fun vacation from real life anymore, because real life will finally be interesting.

So, maybe I’ve learned to be a little more sympathetic towards my mother from the experience?

Last night I saw the Dark Knight with a ridiculous majority of my favorite people, the majority of whom are voracious movie consumers and critics. We left the theatre in dumbstruck silence. I’m hard-pressed to name another movie that literally left me speechless until I exited the theatre complex … maybe Seven?

I did a lot of tearing up along the way, mostly at Heath’s unbidden perfection, but really just because it was an amazing ensemble piece and sometimes great acting clicking together like a well-made watch makes me emotional.

Best Political Quote…. Ever?

June 12, 2008 by krisis

[The current Republican Party is] a dead, rotting carcass with a few decrepit old leaders stumbling around like zombies in a horror version of Weekend at Bernie’s, handcuffed to a corpse.

Attribution? Improbably, longtime GOPer Larry Hunter, as quoted by The New Republic. Via Salon.

I literally rolled around on the floor in convulsions of laughter the first time I saw Weekend At Bernie’s, but the morbid schtick didn’t hold up as well to repeat views as, say, Clue.

In a related incident, I garnered a Bernie’s reference this weekend during my decisive win of a limbo tournament, made all the more impressive by the fact that I was competing against at least two people less than five feet tall.

Also, IIRC, my unbeaten streak in seriously competitive limbo extends back to at least 1999.

Ontologically related to the above: the movie poster for Oliver Stone’s impending W is so great that I may have to hang it in my home office:

After these messages…

May 15, 2008 by krisis

Today I woke up early so I could go to work early so I could get stuff done early so I could go to a press check and, ultimately, leave early.

After said early departure I engaged in a four-mile marathon walk past and through every hip men’s clothing shop in the entirety of center city Philadelphia, in search of my Lyndzapalooza outfit.

This is a time-honored tradition stretching back to 2003, when I wore my brand new orange sneakers to the first event and got them hopelessly dingy climbing up and down from our stage AKA neighbor’s elevated backyard.

Anywho, the trek, it was long. Every store is selling the same ugly men’s clothing right now, except for Diesel, which is selling fucking uglier men’s clothing. What I really wanted was a Flash t-shirt … well, no, what I really wanted was a Cheetara shirt and a Wonder Woman shirt, but in the midst of writing like 20k unique words over the past month I forgot to order them, which initiated this whole sad hunt. Eventually I found what could be my new favorite piece of clothing (only, mine is green).

Late in the game I dragged my ass the length of South Street, now quite sweating underneath my favorite suit, and increasingly parched. I bypassed mucho de Starbucks to hit one of my few favorite indie coffee shops, Java Company, on 4th and South.

As I ordered my iced soy chai latte (one of my few truly yuppie vices) I overhead a conversation:

“Rip Torn?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was in Clue

And, now, make sure you are picturing this correctly. I am at my most corporate, in my best suit, and also sweating to death and in running shoes trailing shopping bags, and I whip my head around and say the following:

“Um, are you talking about Clue, the movie? Because Rip Torn is not in Clue. Clue starred Martin Mull as Colonel Mustard, Christopher Lloyd as Professor Plum, Michael McKean as Mr. Green, Leslie Ann Warren as Ms. Scarlet, Madeline Kahn as Mrs. White, Eileen Brennan as Ms. Peacock, Colleen Camp as Yvette, and Lee Ving as Mr. Body.”

(Actually, it took me one or two tries to get it all out in a string, because I was getting the McKean’s name tangled, and also because I kept getting distracted by 20 ounces of iced chai latte sitting in front of me, but that was the gist of it.)

Absolutely dumbfounded at my sudden outburst, one of the men from the original conversation replied.

“And Tim Curry.”

“Yes,” I acknowledged, exasperated that he even felt the need to point this out, “and featuring Tim Curry, also as Mr. Body.”

At this point the entire coffee shop, and some children outside, are all staring at me.

“It’s my favorite movie.”

The men stared back at me, their dumbfounded faces slowly melting into a wash of pity and revulsion in reaction to my savant-like obsession with the film.

“Um, yeah. Funny how it’s a movie, but it’s a board game.”

“Yeah, my brother loved that board game. We watched it, like, a dozen times.”

“I’m going to go in the back and look it up on IMDB. I think Rip Torn was in it.”

“Yeah, I think he was.”

I turned, finally, to retrieve my drink, and received a conspiratorial wink from my barista.

“I love that movie. I thought it was so funny when I was a kid, and now when I see it I catch all these different jokes.”

Sensing she was on my side I chose not to delve into a treatise on the obliquely scatological and intensely political humor of the film.

“Yeah, it’s actually pretty subversive.”

Now completely dehydrated and about to crumble into a dusty mix of my constituent non-H20 molecules, I paid for my drink and left.

And that is why it is after 1 a.m. and my heart is beating about as fast as a hamster’s.