Sugar plum fairy, sugar plum fairy...

Rarely does a film with only meager ambitions fail miserably. It takes such bold ambition, such overreaching aspiration for something to fall so unflinchingly. Across the Universe is that type of movie. Julie Taymor's new film tries to (re-) contextualize the most revered canon in popular music--that, of course, of the Beatles--as woven through the story of young lovers, budding musicians, and an anti-war polemic.

I will readily admit to a bias up front: I am a huge Beatles fan. When I first heard the premise for this film, I had my reservations. Why even bother covering records that were so perfect in the first place? The answer to this I don't have, but the results are glaring.

Let's start with, obviously, the music. The performances here range from the okay to the awful. At its best, the musical performances are as good as the finals of any given season on "American Idol." At its worst, they are as bad as the auditions for any given season on "American Idol." As great as the Beatles were, much of their early material was just as trite as most any meaningless pop song from before their time until now. What made them different--besides the look, besides the "mania"--was the energy of their musicianship, the earnestness of their vocals. Their music had a drive, their records a purpose that transcended the cloying and the saccharine (at least on the surface) of their subject matter. But in the hands of the three leads, Lucy (Evan Rachel Wood), her love interest Jude (Jim Sturges), and her brother Max (Joe Anderson), the songs just feel banal and annoying. Their interpretations of these oft-heard classics refuse to find a way into the soul of the song. It's like they somehow dance around it, glazing over it, but never really finding the true notes. They know how it goes, but they don't know what it really means.

However, the singers aren't the only ones to blame here. Part of the failure of these songs to truly connect is in the conception of their arrangements and its relation to the narrative. The songs are either so literally conceived, at which point they are just bad covers, or so wildly yanked out of their original context that the emotion of the lyric and melody has lost all relevance. Songs like "All My Loving," "If I Fell," and "Revolution" are dropped into the narrative with such lack of nuance that it's as if they charted out the band's entire oeuvre and attached a specific emotion to each song so that they could pluck out and plug in the correct one when needed. Other songs, such as "Hey Jude" and "All You Need is Love" are faithfully rendered musically, but the context within which the lyrics are contained are changed so arbitrarily that they lose any specific meaning, turning the beauty of the originals into cheesy Broadway-like showtunes.

Roger Ebert, in his four-star review of the film, says the criticism that these aren't the Beatles singing original Beatles' tunes is unwarranted, that "Fred Astaire wasn't Cole Porter, either." But in a way, that kind of misses the point. In the excellent BBC documentary, titled here as Popular Song: Soundtrack of the Century, Elvis Costello makes the terrific insight that we don't have Gershwin's voice attached to any of his songs in the way we hear the Beatles or the Beach Boys when we think of their songs. The point is that the Beatles, along with Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Bob Dylan, and a host of others represented a massive paradigm shift in the evolution of popular music: the songwriter as performer. Name any song by the Gershwins, Porter, Berlin, Rodgers & Hart, etc. and one person may immediately think Sinatra, another Crosby, yet another Astaire. Name "Johnny B. Goode," Chuck Berry's the only name that comes to mind, "Like a Rolling Stone," Bob Dylan, and "I Wanna Hold Your Hand," the Beatles.

And look, I'm not completely against the idea of somebody covering somebody else's material. In fact I think Joe Cocker's version of "With a Little Help From My Friends" is superior to the one first done by the Beatles. He was able to completely change the feel and tone of the song--from the jaunty, carnivalesque feel of the original to the aching, spare sound of his remake--and improve upon it, bringing a whole new perspective on the same lyric. And Joe Cocker does make a cameo here, singing "Come Together." So it's no surprise that Cocker and also Bono, who performs "I am the Walrus," probably do the most serviceable work as they are the most experienced, most veteran of all the performers. (Too bad Bono's acting still leaves a little to be desired.)

But the music isn't the only thing that's lacking. The screenplay is clichéd and obvious. We've seen anti-war movies set in the 60s before and this one predictably weaves its way through the necessary sections. Young lovers separated by the draft? Check. Military personnel arrives at parents' doorstep to inform them of the death of their child? Check. Young idealists protest the war, participating in rallies and riots, and eventually getting arrested? Check. Boyfriend gets jealous of girlfriend hanging out with leader of underground, revolutionist movement? Check. Soldier comes home after war completely mental? Check.

The story here displays a depth of understanding of this very particular period in our history sufficient enough to fill a very short children's reference book. It goes through the motions of being about what it is, without ever once producing any idea of worth, any insight of meaning. And, of course, like in so many musicals, the story is there simply as a clothesline on which to hang the songs and production numbers, but when the writing is so tired, the musical set pieces so underwhelming, instead of being enchanted and entertained, you kind of just want it to end already.

The movie has a lot of defenders and it seems like Across the Universe is one of those polarizing situations, people either really loving it or really hating it. The movie in my mind it most closely resembles is Moulin Rouge--another film I had a negative reaction towards that many others loved. To me, the music in these two movies works only as a gimmick--nothing more, nothing less. Listening to some of the songs, instead of watching the movie, I found myself imagining what the pre-production meeting would sound like: "Gee, Max is about to get drafted; there's an Uncle Sam poster saying 'I Want You.' What song could we play here? Ooh, how about 'I Want You.'" Genius!

If you want to hear a fresh take on this most familiar of music, listen to Love, the mash-up album by Beatles producer George Martin. No other person besides the Beatles themselves knows this music better and Martin plays with it, teasing us with a snippet of a song here, a subtle guitar lick from another song there, and it provides a completely new perspective on songs we all know note-for-note. Both are distinctly 21st century approaches to one of 20th century's most revered of artistic achievements, but while Love invigorates, Across the Universe merely tries to fix a hole in the ocean.

Across the Universe (dir: Julie Taymor; running time 131 minutes)

I've been gone awhile, but now I'm back.

Today (I hope) this site will finally begin in earnest. At the encouragement of my friend who will remain nameless (although her name rhymes with Smirginia), I will post reviews of movies I have seen recently or older movies on DVD or just basic observations on things cinema and beyond (like how Najeh Davenport is totally vulturing touchdowns from my starting fantasy football back Willie Parker!) So here are two reviews for movies currently out in limited release.

The 800 lb. Gorilla

We are a culture obsessed with statistics and records. Aaron's 755, Maris's 61, DiMaggio's 56, Wilt's 100, Ripken's 2131. Add to that, Mitchell's 874,300. Yes, 874,300. It was the world record set in 1982 by Billy Mitchell in Donkey Kong. Yes, Donkey Kong.

And so begins Seth Gordon's ridiculously entertaining new documentary The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters. Mitchell himself is the king of Kong. Add to that the king of other classic arcade games such as Pac-Man, Centipede, and Burger Time. (What Burger Time is I don't know. I have a feeling it may be like Hungry, Hungry Hippos, only not a board game and possibly without the large, water-dwelling mammals.) Mitchell, being king and all, has a slight messianic complex--complete with greasy, stringy, long brown hair and a goatee. In a way it's tough to blame him. Those in the gaming community worship him and Twin Galaxies, the "worldwide Authority on Player Rankings, Gaming Statistics and Championship Tournaments" have unofficially elected him as a sort of figurehead--the Jordan, Ruth, and Ali of their "sport" all rolled into one. He is, in this world, the celebrity.

The film takes place current-day and Mitchell himself seems to have stepped away from gaming as a player and now acts as an ambassador for the community, promoting gaming at large, Twin Galaxies, and, oh, himself. Somehow, Mitchell has parlayed the requisite talents for arcade supremacy into the skills necessary to be a good businessman, as he is impresario of a successful sauce company based out of Hollywood, Florida.

But that's only one part to this story. On the other side of the country, in Redmond, Washington is Steve Wiebe, a husband, father of two, and a pretty good Kong-er in his own right. It's here, through Wiebe, that the film sets its dramatic trajectory. And the brilliance of the film is that it does truly play more like a well-crafted narrative feature than necessarily a documentary.

The film tracks a course inevitably towards a kong-frontation (sorry!) between Mitchell and Wiebe. But a funny thing happened on the way to FunSpot--Mitchell doesn't show up. And when Wiebe, of course, breaks Mitchell's long-standing record (to the shock and awe of the gallery), Mitchell shows up, er, let's say by proxy in a way that so glaringly screams of petty one-upsmanship and ultimately hypocrisy. That the Twin Galaxies community all blindly side with Mitchell in this move shows the power of his cult.

Wiebe's own personal life is both tragic and redemptive. He's not an unflawed hero. He's certainly as competitive as Mitchell and highly self-critical, especially from his jock days back in high school. And when Kong comes into his life, it consumes him, marginalizing even his own family. In a home video, we can overhear Wiebe's son crying to him, pleading with him to wipe his ass and stop playing the game. The long hours of Wiebe's playing even wears out his wife. But in the end, they support him, traveling to Florida with him on his quest for the record. Contrast this with Mitchell's wife, who has never once seen him play Donkey Kong. Even Twin Galaxies comes around, acknowledging Wiebe as a world-class Kong player.

But what's fascinating about the film isn't so much the record--Wiebe's quest for it and Mitchell's underhanded defense of it. It's really an interesting exploration of ego: how on one hand it is driven by power and arrogance; and, on the other, by failure and self-doubt. It's straight out of Shakespeare, or for these guys, maybe Star Wars.

The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters (dir: Seth Gordon; running time 79 minutes)

Found in Translation

If the The King of Kong plays more like a fictional narrative than a documentary, then 2 Days in Paris plays somewhat like an intimate piece of cinema-verite. Actress Julie Delpy's second feature is like a Woody Allen film through the eyes of the French New Wave.

The film follows a thirty-something couple, Marion and Jack, who make a short stop in the city of love near the end of their vacation through Europe. The thing is, Marion is French, grew up in Paris, and has a lot of family and friends to meet. Jack, on the other hand, is a Jewish-American and doesn't speak a lick of French. "Je-egh t'aime," he says, practicing his French. "Why do you put a 'hegh'? It's so ugly. It's not German!" she complains.

While there the two stay in a tiny studio apartment she occupies for two months during the year in the building where her parents also live. When her beautiful sister Rose stops by as well for lunch, their animated discussions (in French of course) make Jack feel like he is the butt of every smile and cackle. Later, when they make their way around town, every man they encounter seems to be one of Marion's exes. In response to Jack's growing jealousy, Marion quickly diffuses it by saying it was nothing: "I may have given him a blowjob once."

There is a particularly delicate balance Delpy finds here. Adam Goldberg's Jack is himself like a younger, more physically imposing Woody Allen character. The examination of a neurotic, dysfunctional romantic relationship is also typical Allen. What's atypical of Allen--and of the French New Wave pictures this is reminiscent of as well--is its focus on the female lead's perspective. Godard once said--and I'm probably paraphrasing here--that the history of cinema is the history of men looking at women. Delpy complicates that here though by, at once, standing behind the camera and essentially turning it on herself. Godard also said, "Film is like a personal diary, a notebook or a monologue by someone who tries to justify himself before a camera." Marion is a photographer professionally, Jack an amateur one on this trip, and there are times here the film simply catalogues their vacation pictorially, while Delpy's voice-over carries the narration. During these moments, the film seems more like a documentary, like some kind of personal autobiographical travelogue instead of a polished feature.

But Delpy flips that first quote by Godard in another way. Her cinema here is that of a woman behind the camera looking at a man. Delpy's camera and screenplay deconstructs the male psyche of her lead character, strips bare his masculinity, exposing it (literally), mocking it, and certainly even empathizing with it. Her exploration of Jack's fear and insecurity and also his humor and social intellect isn't at all trite; in fact, it rings quite honestly.

Saying all this is not to say that 2 Days in Paris is completely serious. It's actually quite funny, laugh-out-loud so sometimes. Goldberg has that classic movie comedian (dare I say, Jewish) way of somehow being in a funny situation and also distancing himself from it, commenting as an aside a line of dialogue or a joke to which only he (and of course the audience) is privy. That Delpy allows Goldberg to steal the show as an actor is a testament to her as an actress as well as a director.

The previous European romance in which Delpy starred and co-scripted was 2004's Before Sunset. Like that one, 2 Days in Paris ends with the two main characters upstairs alone in a room and Marion's voice-over monologue is as perfect as the dialogue was in the previous film. The relationship isn't perfect. How could it? It's messy in the way these things tend to be. The film doesn't pretend to have the answers, Marion and Jack simply do the best they can. And really that's all we can ask.

2 Days in Paris (dir: Julie Delpy; running time: 96 minutes)

Week #10

What am I going to do with my new mp3 player? Play mp3s on it.

But seriously, folks, I already have the giant 80G video iPod, so I think I might use this smaller one when I go to the gym... or maybe I'll put one of those audiobooks I'm supposed to download on it and listen to it on that.

Speaking of which, I think I'm going download the book, The Dork of Cork by Chet Raymo. When I first looked at it I thought it would be a book about wine, perhaps something like that movie (and book) Sideways (which I loved), but it turns out that Cork is a town in Ireland. But I'm going to listen to it anyway and see how it goes.

Speaking of which, I don't know about any of you, but as convenient as an audiobook is, isn't part of the enjoyment of reading is the actual process of reading? Writing isn't performance art. The artistry is in the text. And part of the contract the writer makes with his or her audience is that they are allowed to make their own leaps of imagination from the text. If you are listening to an audiobook, then you are hearing an actor's performance of it, which may be great or less than great, but I think that removes a bit of the authorship from, well, the actual author. If you hear a different actor performing the audiobook, then wouldn't that inherently change your reaction to the book? To me that answer seems obvious.

Stephen King, in a recent op-ed column in Entertainment Weekly suggested the opposite, that all books should be heard, rather than read. He says that its all storytelling, emphasizing the "telling" part and that so much of that storytelling history is oral anyway. In fact many authors themselves travel around the country and world doing readings of their books, so I can understand King's point-of-view.

All-in-all, I don't have anything against audiobooks per se, but I'm just wondering what, if anything, gets compromised--or even improved--in the change in medium. But I'm still going to listen to The Dork of Cork.

Week #9

I must admit--and I think I've read this on a few other blog entries written for this week's assignment--that I'm a bit torn about the whole music copyright issue. On the one hand, I completely agree with the larger music recording corporations who are simply trying to protect their legal property. We are, for better or worse, under the general umbrella or capitalism. These companies and, by extension, the artists they represent put money into these endeavors and want their duly earned money.

Having said that, what I like about Steve Jobs's article is how it points to a fundamental flaw in the logic of the supposed remedy of DRM these "big four" so faithfully cling to. The technologies of Web 2.0 are so advanced now and grow at a rate so breathless sometimes that it truly takes remarkable foresight to really tackle the problem of digital piracy (music and otherwise) with any kind of effectiveness. I'm only marginally intelligent [your joke here] and thus I have no idea what kind of solutions are out there, but I'm sure that's what these corporations along with Apple, Microsoft, and the like are doing their best to find.

On to the eXplore sites--

Like one of the previous week's assignments, I find that there's a singular flaw in websites or services that recommend music (or movies or books) based on the particular artist you like. People's tastes (I hope) are varied and eclectic and to narrow down a range of likes or dislikes in this manner is, I find, slightly nearsighted. But...

to be fair, these sites really are about discovery and that really is to be applauded. If you type in an artist you like and it leads you to new artist you like, but of whom previously you had not been aware, then I guess that's a good thing. And for me--especially with music.

I freely admit to the fact that I listen almost nothing new when it comes to music. I listen almost exclusively to older music. Anything from old blues and jazz down through to classic rock and soul music from the 60s and 70s. I have though been interested recently in an indie band called Bishop Allen, whose music I first heard in the movie Mutual Appreciation. And because I'm not too up-to-speed on the current music scene, I find the music sites like Liveplasma and Last.fm pretty informative. I particularly like Last.fm because you immediately get to listen to that artist's music and then artists similar to them.

BTW, I was so impressed with Emily Wallace's music. Had to listen to a few songs a few times over they were so good!

Week #8

I should first start off by stating that I do, in general, like the idea of online learning and what the whole Web 2.0 thing has to offer. But I do have reservations about the sort of long-term ramifications it will have on our mass culture. I recently checked out a book called The Cult of the Amateur: How Today's Internet is Killing Our Culture by Andrew Keen. I won't go into a long book review of it, but Keen's position in part is to criticize the Web 2.0 culture/phenomenon for creating a too-even playing field where the line between artist and audience is blurred--even erased--thus causing a rotating series of stupid YouTube videos, Flickr pics, and uninformed op-ed blogs made by amateurs locked up in their rooms drowning out the sounds and images and ideas of knowledgeable experts who actually have something of merit to offer.

To be honest, I've always had these reservations, but in the way Keen offers in his final chapter, it really is about the way we use it and not the technology itself. If we can use the technology to highlight the overlooked and enhance, not water down our culture, then I think Web 2.0 can be incredibly useful.

But that was yet again one of my many rants. Back to this particular week's lesson. I have helped a few of my co-workers with some of the details of the lessons and I think it's really great that we are open enough to share what we think about the work we're doing, both as a group and individually. There are a lot of blogs created for this course that I love reading and I love that I get to be a part of that.

As far as Flickr is concerned, I don't have a digital camera per se, but I'm gonna try to take pics on my cell phone and figure out how to upload them and see how that goes!

AFI Redux... or redo?

This past Wednesday, June 22, the American Film Institute unveiled its second list of the 100 greatest American movies ever made. Entitled AFI's 100 Years... 100 Movies - 10th Anniversary Edition, this list can be seen as a do-over for the earlier attempt, a chance to right some wrongs and to reassess the collective canon of great American films.

Like any list of this nature, AFI's original 100 Years... 100 Movies caused much controversy. This list will be no different. Many newspapers and film blogs have already voiced opinions defending or criticizing the inclusion and rank of many films on the list. So, guess what, I'm joining in on the parade.

I'll start off with some of the things I believe the panel got wrong. One of the more notable omissions for me was Stagecoach, John Ford's 1939 seminal western. It was the fullest maturation of the genre, lifting it from a primarily B-movie category to A-list status. That it fell off and The Searchers vaulted up the list (thankfully!) is a bit surprising.

Another--and far more fascinating--exclusion is the one of The Birth of a Nation (1915). Its omission, at least most obviously, is a reflection of its overt racism. There's a remarkable paradox here. D.W. Griffith's film is a true benchmark of cinema to that point and to not include it because of an albeit abhorrent message seems to be a kind of timid revisionism. The AFI panel did included Griffith's following film, Intolerance (1916), which wasn't on its original list and merits inclusion here. But are they simply substituting one for the other for its lack of controversy? Good or bad, the film is an important part of our cinematic heritage and, in the end, isn't that kind of the point. But having said that, what if a movie came out today that portrayed the same kind of racism (or sexism, or age-ism, or homophobia)? I think that I and most others would be appalled--and correctly so.

So what are we left with? In part, lists like AFI's are pocket history lessons. We don't ignore moments in history just because we don't like them.


On to the good... and there are a lot of them.

The biggest jump in the list was the aforementioned The Searchers, John Ford's 1956 western. In the original list 10 years ago, the film barely made it, ranking at 96. This time, the movie jumped an astonishing 84 spots to #12. Personally, I think I would rank it somewhere in the top ten, but that the panel more readily recognizes the power and greatness of the film is refreshing.

And the panel made the right decision in finally recognizing that Vertigo (1958), and not Psycho (1960), is Alfred Hitchcock's greatest film. Despite the jagged bravura and modernism of Psycho, Vertigo is his most confident and personal, his most complete achievement as a filmmaker.

But to me the most delightful surprise of watching the TV special and perusing the list is seeing Charlie Chaplin's City Lights (1931) vault 65 spots from #76 in the '98 list to #11 this year. City Lights is absolutely my favorite movie of all time and they were right (as in the similar case with Hitchcock) that it is Chaplin's highest accomplishment, better than The Gold Rush (1925), which many hold out to be his greatest.

There are so many other highs and lows that I could point out, from the thankful inclusion of The General and Do the Right Thing to the exclusion of The Third Man (if it can be considered an "American" film at all is to be debated) and the ridiculous inclusion at #50 of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. But really, that's one of the reasons lists like that do and should exist. It engages people in a dialogue about what films are great and what makes them great. And in the end, like the '98 list did for me, it provides for the would-be cinephile who wants to know what great movies are out there and doesn't know where to start.

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For additional commentary on this topic see Roger Ebert's (along with a complete list of the 100) and Jim Emerson's websites.

Week #7

I will first start off by saying I love trivia. Lurv it, luff it. I like the idea of Blufr, but I can only take so many what are essentially true-false questions. I did a little searching--and when I say a little searching, I mean clicking on the first link in Yahoo after typing in "trivia"--and found a pretty neat site called FunTrivia.com. In grand Web 2.0 fashion, you can upload and submit your own quiz and conduct your own tournaments in which other members can participate.

I also started a traineo account, but now that I think about it, I don't think I'll use it that much. I don't often think about what I eat except when I'm actually eating. Same with exercising. I eat when (and what) I eat and I exercise when I exercise. Outside of that, I don't like keeping track of that. But what I do like about it is how people can share healthy recipes and workout tips in the forums.

And I like animals just fine (and certainly more than some people I know!), but not enough to waste my Learn 2.0 time on it. Ditto on the beer and wine. The Puzzle Player was a bit of a disappointment in the general trivia stuff, but I liked the word and math puzzles just fine.

GO SPURS!

Week #6

...a little late, but oh well...

It seems a few of the library apps we had to eXplore covered the same territory or offered the same services and, of them, GuruLib was my favorite. I used to have an inventory of my CDs and DVDs on a simple document file on my computer, but I love the way their system works and how easy it is to organize and upload information.

I was interested in what What Should I Read Next? and their film and music site This One Next had to offer, but I was fairly disappointed. Maybe I didn't work the site properly, but it was little difficult--for me anyway--to maneuver and I think you can find recommendations on other sites that work better than this one. In any case, I'm always wary of these kind of places that tell you if you like one thing that you're going to like another. I'm not necessarily against it, but I think on the whole it assumes too much of why a particular piece of art (novel, film, music album, etc.) reaches the person who enjoys it. And some places simply recommend another novel or movie for no other reason than the fact that its plot is similar, completely without regard to quality, at which point the recommendation just seems empty and pointless.

Anywho, that was my mini-rant about that. I also really like the idea behind Elf, but as I am only a member of our particular library (which also offers those services), I really had no need for it.

a change to the amendment to the earlier rule of the amendment

So I was sitting in the break room today, eating lunch, reading the Calendar section of the paper and came across a review of Away From Her, the film I had blogged about a couple of weeks ago. Then I said to myself, "Jason, wait a second, if you're reading a review of this movie in the Sentinel today, then that means it must be coming out this weekend somewhere in town." To my happy surprise, it is. It will be playing this week (and I would assume at the very least one more week) at the Regal in Winter Park.

As I wrote before, this is a gem of a movie and if you want a little detour from the cacophony of all the summer blockbusters, I highly recommend this film.

Week #4

Yeah, so I was going to do this whole write-up on Web 2.0 and what's been going on in my brain as I tried to wrap my head around what it all means, but I couldn't get my thoughts together and so I'm just going to talk about some of the websites I looked at as it pertained to the eXplore assignments. (But keep an eye out for my feelings on this subject in later posts!)

On SEOmoz, I clicked on all three sites that won awards under the "Events" category. What I like about the first two, Upcoming and Eventful, were that they -- through the magic of television -- already knew that I was looking up their site from Florida, so they already had events listed for the area. The #3 website in the category did not do this so I feel it necessary to not list them here!

I'm also a list freak so I thought the "Lists and Polls" category would be fun, but sadly they were not so much. Listdump seemed the best, but I wasn't crazy about its layout or even the depth of things it had to offer. Oh well.

I wasn't too surprised about the presence of OCLS in MySpace or Youtube as I -- and others here have mentioned -- know how much our system is in tune and up-to-date with these kinds of technologies and reaching out to our communities through it.

All-in-all I think there's so much out there to look through that it's almost impossible to make sense of it. But I guess that's the point of this course: to point us in the right direction and give us the tools to make use of it how we may.