While I don't, in general, watch reality TV, I have to admit a fondness for Last Comic Standing. This is despite the fact that the ultimate results often leave me scratching my head. (e.g. The first or second place finisher last year had basically no act beyond "Hi. I'm morbidly obese.) Not that I'm convinced the results really have a big impact on the comedians' careers either, although it may help in touring.
But there are enough funny people who make it through the auditions to root for. And then there are those who don't make it past that stage. Some are simply hopeless, and the vast majority of them probably don't even show up on camera. Some seem to be punking the talent scouts in a kind of no-punchline metahumor. There's an honorable tradition in this (Andy Kaufman, Sacha Baron Cohen, etc) but understandably it doesn't really play well in this kind of contest.
A few are good comics but make crucial mistakes that stop them short. One guy I saw tonight falls into this category. He did some brash but forward-looking ethnic humor--he was Asian--that seemed like it might play well. Needing a breather in the middle of his act, he turned to one of the judges, Brian Baumgartner from The Office, and said, "Hey Office, eyes up here." Baumgartner is not at all the quasi-simple mouthbreather he plays on that show, and he advised that he didn't like being singled out. Now if the comic had said, "Thanks for telling me, I'll remember that in my future performances," I think he might have gotten a shot at the showcase. Instead he asked if Baumgartner was uncomfortable, in a tone which--accurately or not--came off as condescending. He went home empty handed.
But hopefully somewhat the wiser. Better luck next year.
As for who I'm rooting for, I've liked Jackie Kashian for a while. If she's not the funniest straight woman in America, she's in the running.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Getting back in the game
Oh well.
Had to change computers recently. May have been unavoidable, although I probably could have delayed the process a few ways. Live and learn, I guess.
Anyway, should be back to regular posting again fairly soon. Whether I can rebuild the iTunes library in time for Friday Random Ten is an open question. Fingers crossed.
Had to change computers recently. May have been unavoidable, although I probably could have delayed the process a few ways. Live and learn, I guess.
Anyway, should be back to regular posting again fairly soon. Whether I can rebuild the iTunes library in time for Friday Random Ten is an open question. Fingers crossed.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Whatever gets you through the night
Needless to say, Joe Lieberman has every right to back John McCain for president, and doesn't have to justify himself to me. However, he is justifying himself, which makes his reasons fair game. Let the fun begin.
As nonsensical concepts go, a bipartisan or nonpartisan presidential endorsement is a doozy. Anyone running for president with a serious chance will have a party, or similar organization, behind him or her. McCain has the Republican Party. JIL isn't choosing country over party, as he states. He's siding with an opposing party over the one he's belonged to for most of his life, much as Lie Like Hell Zell did back in '04. Now, this isn't the profoundest level of betrayal there is. It's also not some exalted, noble impulse.
As to his reasoning, Lieberman is one of those politicians who thinks that because we have so many hammers, every problem in the world is a nail. Like many life-long civilians, he has a rather romanticized view of war, and seems baffled by anyone in public life who would say no to it. A lot of veterans, even if they still believe war is necessary, would disabuse you of this notion. John McCain is not one of those, which is why he and Lieberman get along so well.
As to the Clintonistas that Lieberman is trying to woo to McCain's corner, I hope they remember that he was doing this whole "more in sadness than in anger" schtick back in March, back when the primaries were still raging. Meaning that if Hillary had clinched the nomination, Lieberman would be making his pitch to disaffected Obamaphiles.
Hey, you never know until you try.
As nonsensical concepts go, a bipartisan or nonpartisan presidential endorsement is a doozy. Anyone running for president with a serious chance will have a party, or similar organization, behind him or her. McCain has the Republican Party. JIL isn't choosing country over party, as he states. He's siding with an opposing party over the one he's belonged to for most of his life, much as Lie Like Hell Zell did back in '04. Now, this isn't the profoundest level of betrayal there is. It's also not some exalted, noble impulse.
As to his reasoning, Lieberman is one of those politicians who thinks that because we have so many hammers, every problem in the world is a nail. Like many life-long civilians, he has a rather romanticized view of war, and seems baffled by anyone in public life who would say no to it. A lot of veterans, even if they still believe war is necessary, would disabuse you of this notion. John McCain is not one of those, which is why he and Lieberman get along so well.
As to the Clintonistas that Lieberman is trying to woo to McCain's corner, I hope they remember that he was doing this whole "more in sadness than in anger" schtick back in March, back when the primaries were still raging. Meaning that if Hillary had clinched the nomination, Lieberman would be making his pitch to disaffected Obamaphiles.
Hey, you never know until you try.
Friday Random Ten: Busy Half-Day Edition
Felt way under the weather this morning, which kept me away from work for a while. When I got there, a lot of work had to be done in a short time. Luckily I had some good tunes to help me along.
For some reason the ol' iPod only displays the last band as "8 Souvenirs."
That VU song is so trippy and great I had to include it.
1. Queen--Love of My Life
2. Dr. John--What Comes Around (Goes Around)
3. Elvis Costello & the Attractions--Busy Bodies
4. The Stanley Brothers--The Lonesome River
5. Moby--Machete
6. The Velvet Underground--The Murder Mystery
7. The Go-Go's--Head Over Heels
8. The Brunettes--Stereo (Mono Mono)
9. Soul Coughing--4 Out of 5
10. 8½ Souvenirs--My Baby
For some reason the ol' iPod only displays the last band as "8 Souvenirs."
That VU song is so trippy and great I had to include it.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Kiss and make-up time
Will she wreck the party? Venture on an ego-driven third party challenge? Take her ball and go home?
Apparently not. For Obama supporters it's easy--and maybe kinda fun--to think ill of Hillary Rodham Clinton. But she seems to be moving on in a classy way. This is good, because the real nemesis is still coming up.
I'm not entirely optimistic about this year's election. In terms of who can be elected President, the biggest outlier in US history was an Irish Catholic, and he won in a squeaker. (Many insist that he cheated.) So race could be a dealbreaker, as could other things. And an Obama victory in and of itself wouldn't guarantee anything.
And yet this is a positive step. Do I expect an honest and open election? Hell no. But I think the ideal of open dialogue is at least coming back into style.
And Michelle Obama also strikes me as the most appealing political spouse of my lifetime. Time will tell if this is just one of my eccentricities.
Apparently not. For Obama supporters it's easy--and maybe kinda fun--to think ill of Hillary Rodham Clinton. But she seems to be moving on in a classy way. This is good, because the real nemesis is still coming up.
I'm not entirely optimistic about this year's election. In terms of who can be elected President, the biggest outlier in US history was an Irish Catholic, and he won in a squeaker. (Many insist that he cheated.) So race could be a dealbreaker, as could other things. And an Obama victory in and of itself wouldn't guarantee anything.
And yet this is a positive step. Do I expect an honest and open election? Hell no. But I think the ideal of open dialogue is at least coming back into style.
And Michelle Obama also strikes me as the most appealing political spouse of my lifetime. Time will tell if this is just one of my eccentricities.
Monday, June 2, 2008
You are getting sleepy, very sleepy
No, wait, dammit! I'm the one what's getting sleepy! It wasn't supposed to go down like this.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Yes I am. Do you know my poetry?
There are some movies that--if they are available on video--practically demand to be viewed late at night. They have an exotic, otherworldly quality that's only enhanced by fighting unconsciousness.
Jim Jarmusch's Dead Man fits perfectly in this category. It is, in fact, one of the best sleepy time movies of the last twenty years. Of course, looking at it on paper, one might just assume its excellence. Johnny Depp, Lance Henriksen, and screen legend Robert Mitchum in a Jarmusch Western with music by Neil Young? What could go wrong.
But plenty could have, and films that look good on paper don't always pan out. I'd posit the Spielberg remake of War of the Worlds as an example. But this is an example of a director planning well, then going on to improvise well.
The method of working is similar to eighties films Stranger than Paradise and Down by Law. You still see edits from stillness to silence, where of course the usual purpose of editing is to cut from one action to another. And Jarmusch still has a skill and preference for working in black and white. The monochrome palette does not make Dead Man look or feel like an old movie, much less an old Western. For one thing only a black teenage hitman (Eugene Byrd) and a corrupt missionary (Alfred Molina) seen near the end have short hair. But the black and white does create an atmosphere of oldness. This isn't a new frontier, it's a world falling apart before your eyes.
Depp is an orphan from Cleveland named William Blake. After a long train ride and a surreal conversation with soot-covered Crispin Glover, he arrives in the town of Machine to claim an accounting job at Dickinson Metalworks. Mr Dickinson is played by Mitchum as a man too accustomed to being the emperor of his own little world to be anything else. It's a surprise to no one but Blake when Dickinson retracts the offer and kicks Blake out. After that, Blake spends his last few coins on a bottle of rotgut.
That is the essence of the movie. Blake has no money. He has no real prospects of making more. This world, it seems, is done with him.
The plot proper starts when he spends the night with a pretty young woman (Mili Avital) transitioning from a life of prostitution. In the morning, her old boyfriend shows up, making a show of sad graciousness in Gabriel Byrne's best Southern accent. Then he takes a gun and shoots at either Blake or lover Thel. He hits both of them, her fatally. Blake takes Thel's own sidearm and--with some realistic initial misses--kills the intruder. Worst luck, he happens to be Dickinson's son.
Dickinson then hires a trio of killers, played by Henriksen, Byrd, and Michael Wincott (much less glam than he was in The Crow.) Of these, only Henriksen's Cole seems suited to the life, and he's more Jeffrey Dahmer than Billy the Kid. You just know that his cavalry uniform was taken off a soldier he killed, and probably ate.
Blake himself escapes into the wilderness on a horse he stole from the younger Dickinson, said horse possibly being the real reason for the contract. His life is saved--or more accurately, given a brief extension--by the outcast Indian Nobody, played by Gary Farmer. Their relationship forms the heart of the film. Nobody reveres him as a second coming of the other William Blake, but also puts him through hoops. Where Dances With Wolves seemed to suggest that a worthy white man could walk away and become a very fair Indian, nothing like that happens here. Blake learns, grows, changes, but he doesn't become anything but... well, look again at the title.
And so the movie comes full circle, ending in a scene that recalls the seemingly nonsensical speech given by the fireman. Blake comes to a kind of peace, maybe. To view it is to live in a breathless balance between comedy and tragedy.
Jim Jarmusch's Dead Man fits perfectly in this category. It is, in fact, one of the best sleepy time movies of the last twenty years. Of course, looking at it on paper, one might just assume its excellence. Johnny Depp, Lance Henriksen, and screen legend Robert Mitchum in a Jarmusch Western with music by Neil Young? What could go wrong.
But plenty could have, and films that look good on paper don't always pan out. I'd posit the Spielberg remake of War of the Worlds as an example. But this is an example of a director planning well, then going on to improvise well.
The method of working is similar to eighties films Stranger than Paradise and Down by Law. You still see edits from stillness to silence, where of course the usual purpose of editing is to cut from one action to another. And Jarmusch still has a skill and preference for working in black and white. The monochrome palette does not make Dead Man look or feel like an old movie, much less an old Western. For one thing only a black teenage hitman (Eugene Byrd) and a corrupt missionary (Alfred Molina) seen near the end have short hair. But the black and white does create an atmosphere of oldness. This isn't a new frontier, it's a world falling apart before your eyes.
Depp is an orphan from Cleveland named William Blake. After a long train ride and a surreal conversation with soot-covered Crispin Glover, he arrives in the town of Machine to claim an accounting job at Dickinson Metalworks. Mr Dickinson is played by Mitchum as a man too accustomed to being the emperor of his own little world to be anything else. It's a surprise to no one but Blake when Dickinson retracts the offer and kicks Blake out. After that, Blake spends his last few coins on a bottle of rotgut.
That is the essence of the movie. Blake has no money. He has no real prospects of making more. This world, it seems, is done with him.
The plot proper starts when he spends the night with a pretty young woman (Mili Avital) transitioning from a life of prostitution. In the morning, her old boyfriend shows up, making a show of sad graciousness in Gabriel Byrne's best Southern accent. Then he takes a gun and shoots at either Blake or lover Thel. He hits both of them, her fatally. Blake takes Thel's own sidearm and--with some realistic initial misses--kills the intruder. Worst luck, he happens to be Dickinson's son.
Dickinson then hires a trio of killers, played by Henriksen, Byrd, and Michael Wincott (much less glam than he was in The Crow.) Of these, only Henriksen's Cole seems suited to the life, and he's more Jeffrey Dahmer than Billy the Kid. You just know that his cavalry uniform was taken off a soldier he killed, and probably ate.
Blake himself escapes into the wilderness on a horse he stole from the younger Dickinson, said horse possibly being the real reason for the contract. His life is saved--or more accurately, given a brief extension--by the outcast Indian Nobody, played by Gary Farmer. Their relationship forms the heart of the film. Nobody reveres him as a second coming of the other William Blake, but also puts him through hoops. Where Dances With Wolves seemed to suggest that a worthy white man could walk away and become a very fair Indian, nothing like that happens here. Blake learns, grows, changes, but he doesn't become anything but... well, look again at the title.
And so the movie comes full circle, ending in a scene that recalls the seemingly nonsensical speech given by the fireman. Blake comes to a kind of peace, maybe. To view it is to live in a breathless balance between comedy and tragedy.
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