On the Bass...Derek Smalls!

There really aren't words for how awesome this is...so I'm just going to show it to you...



As far as I'm concerned, Live Earth did its job merely by making this moment happen. I still say the Tap should have played the Tokyo show instead of London. They have a huge Japanese following, you know.

Still, Hubbins-Smalls-Tufnel reunion aside, this whole Live Earth thing strikes me as a bit silly. I mean, I believe global warming is a considerable problem, and I'm even willing to go along with the whole "we all have to do our part" thing.

But there wasn't much of a purpose to this concerts. I'm not sure the public needs to constantly be reminded of the reality of global warming. Most reasonable people are already convinced it's real. What we need is real decisive leadership on the issue and actual workable solutions. That's what's missing. Nothing is happening right now because the rich white guys who make all the decisions aren't yet convinced that saving the Earth is the right one. Once they have no other option but to change...say, they are forced by legislation, or plain old public outcry...then we'll see some real action on this issue.

Asking people to fill up their tires so they can get one extra tank of gas per year out of their car is ludicrous to the point of insulting the general public. That's obviously not going to save any planets, even if millions of us take Chris Rock's advice and do it immediately. Come on...

Bob Geldof, creator of the original Live Aid concert, feels pretty much the same way.

"I would only organize Live Earth if I could go on stage and announce concrete environmental measures from the American presidential candidates, Congress or major corporations," he goes on to say. "They haven't got those guarantees, so it's just an enormous pop concert or the umpteenth time that, say, Madonna or Coldplay get up on stage.

"I hope they're a success. But why is Gore actually organizing them? To make us aware of the greenhouse effect? Everybody's known about that problem for years. We are all [expletive] conscious of global warming."

I pretty much agree. The whole thing came off a bit sanctimonious. I mean...of course Cameron Diaz and Sting can make thoughtful decisions about their carbon footprint. They're friggin millionaires. Millionaires get to make all kinds of interesting decisions about things that non-millionaires take entirely for granted. Like, "what kind of cell phone should I get?" vs. "which crappy cell phone that comes free with the plan will I grudgingly accept?"

Also, obviously excepting the Tap's performance, the performances I saw yesterday were kind of sub-par. I was enjoying The Police's "Message in a Bottle" until Kanye came out halfway through and started talking over it. (There's a thin line between freestyle rapping and mumbling some shit whilst a band is playing, and Kanye was walking directly on top of that line.) This is really a shame, both because the reunited Police actually sound pretty good (except that one moment where Sting's voice totally gives out) and because it's a perfectly chosen song for the theme of this concert.

Witness the tragedy:



No, no, no, no, no...

I mean, I like rapping. Even freestyle rapping...sometimes. But "Sending out a message in a bottle/It says we need a new tomorrow..." That's just retarded. He even stoops to "wave your arms in the air like you just don't care" at one point. Then there's a series of "yeahs!" and grunts while the Police are playing a song! Be quiet and let The Police play, would you? It's just disrespectful, really.

Actually, there's a larger issue at play here. Rap in a rap song is very good. Classic rock in a classic rock song is also very good. But quite unlike chocolate and peanut butter, these are two great tastes that fucking taste like shit together. No one should ever interrupt a classic rock song with a bit of rappin' in the midsection. Witness Linkin Park.

And if that's not compelling enough evidence for you, an anecdote. In high school, I saw the Steve Miller Band play live at what was then called Irvine Meadows. (I believe now it's the News Corp. Presentation of the Verizon/GE Memorial Cheez-It Park, Brought to you by Bank of America. Or something.) Halfway through "Fly Like an Eagle," they brought out some poor bastard to spit some hot fire. "Fly...like an eag-le...into the sky..." It was horrible. I was hardly a huge Steve Miller Band fan, then or now, but I was still traumatized. As if "Abracadabera" weren't a significant enough crime against humanity...

Finally, for no real reason, "Girls on Film":

Future Unrentables: The Hitcher

As if to allay any concerns that there might be something worthwhile about it, The Hitcher remake opens with an animated rabbit being crushed into roadkill by a passing car. The effects on the rabbit are so hideous, so plainly fake, that it destroys any possible surprise the splatter moment may have had. We know something horrible will happen to this computer-generated rabbit because otherwise they would have used a real rabbit.

Sophia Bush and Zachary Knighton (I don't remember either character's name, nor could I provide even a sketch of their background or personality) are starting off on one of those wild n' crazy young person road trips. You know, the kind of debauched coming-of-age journey, typically accompanied by screechy pop-punk, that always seem to lead nubile 20-somethings into these desert-encircled pits of hell in these movies.

It takes director Dave Meyers approximately 2.5 minutes of road trip to get Sophia Bush into her underwear. (Naturally, she has to change in the car.) Under normal circumstances, would be a good sign. But this is a remake of The Hitcher we're talking about here...It would take the entire female population of Van Nuys undressing simultaneously to save this shitkicker.



Sophia and Zach have a not-hilarious run-in with a gas station redneck who relates to them the charming story behind his lazy eye. (He was attempting to milk a donkey. Ba-zing!)

Then the titular Hitcher, played by Sean Bean as part of his ongoing World Tour of Shitty Genre Films, shows up needing a ride to a motel. There's absolutely no attempt to play said Hitcher as anything but a maniacal villain. He's creepy from Minute #1 and within four minutes of his introduction in the film, he's taunting the heroes with a switchblade. It's all handled in an extremely perfunctory manner. Zach and Sophia don't really even seem that surprised when Bean goes all mad-dog on them. "What? You're a serial killer! Oh, man, and I thought we were just giving a ride to some guy! Geez, leave it to me, you know?"

There's no thrill or intensity to this "reveal." Finding out that Bean's a total psycho is a revelation on roughly the same level as finding out Indiana Jones is handy with a whip.

Once Bean has threatened the lives of both heroes and they have managed to successfully kick him out of a moving car, Zach realizes they should "probably call the cops." Too bad the Hitcher has come away with his cell phone.



After a couple fake-out is-it-a-dream-or-isn't-it sequences, our heroes spot The Hitcher enjoying a ride in a family station wagon, causing them to freak out and crash their own car! In the middle of the desert! With a Hitcher around! Not to mention those Hills Have Eyes mutants and Sig Haig in clown make-up! So, in a delicious irony, the Hitchees have become the Hitchers! See how they did that?


That's interesting writing!

Zach and Sophia run into a hyper-religious family that The Hitcher has taken the liberty of butchering. They make a vain but valiant attempt to get the dying brood some medical attention, and of course get implicated themselves in the killings.

What's weird is, Zach and Sophia seem really upset to see the police, even before they know they're being set up to take the fall. They've just had their lives threatened by a maniac who proceeded to brutalize an entire family on an open stretch of road. I'd think, after this kind of experience, seeing the police arrive would be a welcome relief, even if it occurred to you (unlikely) that they might suspect you for the crime. Besides, other people have seen Sean Bean. He's not Keyser Soze or anything. They have every reason to believe the cops will listen to their story.

Instead, their initial suspicions turn out to be correct, and our heroes get railroaded by the cruel American justice system (which as we all know, is unfairly prejudiced against attractive, economically-secure white kids).

"It wasn't me, it was The Hitcher! Or possibly the One-Armed Man!," they plead, but to no avail. I'm starting to realize that this film has an extremely short attention span. No sequences or events really last beyond three to five minutes. A new obstacle presents itself, then The Hitcher kills everyone except the heroes, off-screen, then Zach and Sophia run away to be moderately creeped out another day. It's like the entire first season of a Chris Carter TV series compressed into 80 minutes.

So before long, these two are implicated in the murders of a nice Christian family and an entire police station worth of cops, which has got to be some kind of felony. The Hitcher was apparently able to slay a dozen or so officers in a matter of minutes. In a John Carpenter movie, that kind of mass slaying's gonna run you at least a couple hours, so you know this guy's good.

The guy from that "Boomtown" show no one watched shows up as a sheriff who's hot on the heels of Sophia and Zach, though he's skeptical that they were acting alone. Neal McDonough...he's old skool...he's a cop...He says things like "You've gotta be five-finger fucking me!" Full respek.

At this point, it's totally ridiculous that Zach and Sophie wouldn't turn themselves over to the cops and try to explain everything. Obviously, running away makes you look guilty, dumbasses! Instead, they wait to get caught and then try to explain. Oh, and then, in a carefully plotted masterstroke, they pull a gun on the cops. You know what? These two deserve to get taken down. The Hitcher's doing a public service, stopping two idiots before they can mate.

There's a big car chase between Zach and Sophia, The Hitcher and some police cars set to Nine Inch Nails' "Closer" that's, to my surprise, not entirely reprehensible. It's easily the best scene in the movie, though I have to say it looks exceptionally fake. If Michael Bay had shot it, I'm sure it would have cost $80 million more and included a lot of shrapnel bits flying directly at the screen, but you know...it's not bad...

The big action-y chase stuff also kind of moves the film out of the realm of horror and into the realm of camp andexploitation. If they had gone more whole-heartedly in this direction from the beginning, The Hitcher would have been far more watchable.

Instead, it's a cop-out. Meyers sets up lurid exploitation scenes only to cop out immediately. We move in on Sophia Bush in the shower, but quickly cut away to a TV showing Hitchcock's The Birds. (What's with that reference? I don't get it...) Bean climbs atop Bush like he's going to rape her, but then passes on the idea for no apparent reason. I guess he felt it might make him too unlikable to the females, 18-25...

So rather than wanting her sex, Bean decides he wants Sophia to kill him, preferably in front of a bunch of police, so she will be implicated even further, which at this point doesn't even seem possible. Things go from bad to worse, and both The Hitcher and Sophia end up in the custody of Sheriff Buford T. Justice Neal McDonough. I won't reveal Zach's fate...but he won't be taking any more zany-young-person road trips any time soon.

The focus then switches to figuring out who this Hitcher guy is. We get an intense "interrogation" scene where Bean gets pumped for information. "I bet you liked killing those people...you sick fuck..." That sort of thing. I mean, does it matter who he is or why he did it? He's a crazy hitchhiking killer guy. Stop studying his psychology and lock him up! This ain't Criminal Intent, and Neal McDonough, pardner...you ain't no Vinnie D'Onofrio.

Following his sixth or seventh improbable escape attempt, I lost count, The Hitcher locks Sophia in a van and then blows it up, hoping to kill her in the process. He seems otherwise so willing to murder people face-to-face, real up close and personal like, it's odd that he would leave his main surviving nemesis alone in a locked van and simply assume the whole dying thing goes to plan. He's kind of asking for his last-minute comeuppance with that classic movie villain blunder...

Seriously, Are These Guys Insane?

Let's say, hypothetically, that Lindsey Graham and Joe Lieberman have no conscience or moral center of any kind. I know...it's a stretch.

Okay, so putting aside all of the natural, human instincts that would make them realize that they must bring an end to the pointless slaughter of the U.S. occupation of Iraq...don't they worry about how they will be viewed by history?

I would think all public figures would have some awareness that their decisions have long-standing consequences, and would attempt to behave in such a way that future generations could benefit from their actions. Do these guys genuinely not care at all about such things? Is it just a completely selfish, more-power-more-money-NOW mentality, 24/7? I honestly don't know...

Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-SC), returning from a visit this week to Iraq along with his pro-escalation partner Sen. John McCain (R-AZ), offered the following assessment of the situation in Iraq:

“The military part of the surge is working beyond my expectations,” Graham said. “We literally have the enemy on the run. The Sunni part of Iraq has really rejected al-Qaida all over the country. We’re getting more information about al-Qaida operations than we’ve ever received.”

And then there's this...

As key Republican support for President Bush's Iraq war strategy begins to erode, Sen. Joseph I. Lieberman today urged fellow lawmakers and the public to give the American military surge time to work.

"We've got to think not about the next election but the next generation," he told a Capitol Hill news conference. The U.S. military surge, Lieberman contended, has the enemy "on the run."

I mean...COME ON. At this point, lying to the American public about progress in Iraq is just MONSTROUS and shameful. It's beneath Joe Lieberman. And he's like a character from Salo to begin with, so that's saying something.

Random Music Videoness

A little Saturday night Ween...



And now, the real reason I've asked you all here this evening:



You have Sadly No! to thank for this.

To Whom It May Concern:

Dear Sir or Madam representing the Durex condom company:

This is in response to your announcement of 200 jobs in the exciting, growth field of professional condom testing. And I quote:

Durex said 200 adult Australians -- men and women -- are wanted to test a range of its condoms.

Presently, I live in the United States, but would be willing to move to Australia should one of these positions open up. While I would not say that I am an "expert" in this field necessarily, I do feel that my unique skills and abilities could be a tremendous asset to your firm.

While the successful applicants will not be paid, each will receive a pack of Durex sex products, a chance to win 1,000 Australian dollars ($857 U.S.), plus professional prestige, the company said in a statement.

I'd agree that this isn't so much about the money as the prestige. I'm not sure exactly WHAT effect having "professional condom tester" on a resume would have on a potential employer, but I would imagine it could only be positive.

Please consider me whenever you are holding your interviews/auditions. Personal references can be obtained for your perusal. Just not as many as I'd like.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,
Lons

Happy 4th of July!

And to celebrate all that makes this country great, here's our Gangster-in-Chief explaining why he had to give his convicted felon buddy a pass on going to prison. The judge's sentence was "severe," you see. I mean, we can't punish convicted felons severely. That's just not cricket.



Go America! USA! USA! We're #1!

Transformers

After the film finally exhausted itself, my friend Dean acknowledged the horror that is the Transformers movie, but added, "What else could they have done?" In a way, he's right. There was no chance a Michael Bay film based on a 30 year-old trinket-selling enterprise about outer space robots was going to be any good.

Of course, I knew this going in. The closest I've ever come to actually liking a Michael Bay movie was my relative acceptance of The Rock. And though I played with Transformers in my youth (I have specific memories of bringing Starscream with me to elementary school), I clearly don't have the intense and lasting fondness for these characters as some of my peers. So I was never really the film's target audience.

But still...one would hope that a Steven Spielberg-produced massively-expensive mid-summer blockbuster would have some kind of entertainment value, particularly for someone who harbors some degree of old-school nostalgia for the source material. Right? Is that really so much to ask? I didn't think Live Free or Die Hard would be any good, and it was a pleasant surprise. Fantastic Four 2 wasn't anything too terrific, but it was better than average for a Marvel adaptation. So it's not impossible to turn a wacky studio marketing gimmick into a reasonably solid entertainment.

Instead, CLEARLY and VIVIDLY uninspired by his source material, Bay has turned in his most ruthlessly irritating, nonsensical, loud, ceaselessly stupid, pointless, awkward and boring effort to date. I hated Transformers from pretty much the first minute, mainly because there is nothing at all to like.



Before we go any further, I'd like to stress this one point so I don't have to reiterate it in the comments 10 times. I have nothing against a stupid, fun action movie. Live Free or Die Hard is a very stupid action film and I loved it and I gave it a positive review.

Transformers is a terrible action movie by any standard. You'd think Michael Bay could put together a decent action sequence, considering that putting together such sequences is his profession and he's quite successful. But he's just fucking bad. This stuff about him making dumb movies that have great action scenes has always been a myth. He has no fucking clue how to put together a scene that's fluid, comprehensible, intense or exciting. There's just a lot of blurry busyness on screen followed by some explosions and then it's all over.

Bay's filming scenes here on a massive scale. The extended climax involves huge robots engaged in a ferocious battle royale on the streets and in the skies above Downtown Los Angeles. (Why do so many action scenes happen in Downtown Los Angeles? Don't any other cities have cinematic downtown areas?) It's a real shame that he hasn't mastered the basics of action film direction, because these scenes at least could have been salvageable. Once every 20 minutes or so, Bay actually manages, possibly via dumb luck, to assemble a cool shot, though it generally lasts about 3 seconds. I'd describe the film's style as chaotic visual noise, a lot of whooshing around and flying shrapnel designed to give the audience the impression of big-scale action going on without actually showing them anything at all distinctly. You could get roughly the same experience by lighting a large firecracker and holding it directly in front of your face.

I don't know why Bay's so terrified of establishing shots, or any perspective on the action that can give the viewer a clear and accurate sense of the physics and motion in the scene. The best action scenes are precise; they are in many ways about the spacial relations between the adversaries and the movement between them.

Bay's films are just about fast editing and off-kilter angles, seemingly designed to leave the viewer clueless as to what's going on. We never once, for example, get to see an actual car transform into a robot. We see bits and pieces of the shift, from underneath, from the side, from above, in slow motion, starting from underneath and then spinning around from above in fast-motion and then twisting frontwards in slow motion at a 90 degree angle in a reverse barrel roll. I'd call it showing off but it's not in any way impressive. Just frustrating.



If Bay had managed to throw in four or five great bits of action, I'm sure the agonizing banality of Roberto Orci's and Alex Kurtzman's screenplay would be a bit more tolerable. As it stands, the film's turgid, seemingly endless scenes of military jargon and atrocious "comedy" featuring geeky teen Shia LeBouf and his wacky living used car, feel like some kind of punishment. Jon Voight plays the Secretary of Defense in the film, but I suspect the whole project was executive produced by Don Rumsfeld. If screening this back-to-back doesn't get those al Qaeda bastards talking, nothing will!

The film's so bad, it flirts with Snakes on a Plane dumb-for-dumb's-sake territory at times. But Bay's just not a funny filmmaker (his movies always try for comedy and fall flat), and the "jokes" provided by this script could not be lamer if they were cut from a "Mad TV" sketch. Optimus Prime crushes a car under his foot and says "My bad." A weird little Transformer guy gets his head blown off and screams "oh shit" in a canned digital voice. Bumblebee leaks lubricant on to John Turturro's head from what appears to be a pee-hole. And so forth. Snakes on a Plane had four or five genuine, intentional laughs. Transformers...not so much...

The sub-Herbie Goes Bananas shenanigans go on for a long time. So long, I began to suspect that the film was going for loopy comedy, as if Bay had accepted hundreds of millions of dollars to make an elaborate campy farce, a send-up of his patented style of overblown summer action movies. Alas, no, at around the 90 minute mark, he gives the comedy a pass (along with several whole plot strands) and gets down to the business of incomprehensible fights between indistinguishable Transformers that have no personalities.

I'm even surprised at this, as it would seem to be the one guaranteed success of a big expensive Hollywood film adaptation, but the designs of the Transformers are just poor. Their faces are unappealingly squishy. They neither look believably mechanical nor are they expressive, thus failing on both fronts. And their bodies all look so similar, it's impossible to tell them apart during most of the action, particularly when they are grappling in close contact with one another. I had no idea who was fighting who, and who was winning, during the entire climactic battle, which is the only fucking reason to see this horrible piece of shit movie in the first place. At one point, main baddie Megatron dispenses with a Transformer by ripping him in half, and I had no idea who it was until the final scene, when Optimus Prime says a tearful goodbye to the fallen Jazz.

Does the film do ANYTHING right, you may be asking by now? Um...no.

A better question would be...what's more painful, Bay ripping off American Pie in a cruelly unfunny sequence in which Shia LeBouf's parents quiz him about masturbation OR Optimus Prime fumbling around a suburban back lawn in some kind of unholy nerd homage to Preston Sturges?

Well, okay, fine, the casting of Megan Fox represents some rare solid decision-making.



She's not any good in the movie. She's given a nothing character with no real reason for being there, and turns in a wooden performance. But look at her. She's gorgeous. At least there was something to stare at while all the extras were nattering on endlessly with bad movie military-speak.

"Get me Sat-Com on line. I need 3 R-92's at the PTV by 0900. Your go code is Echo Tango Echo Foxtrot November."

Scary Mormons and Even Scarier Non-Mormons

So I'm reading this Des Moines Register article about conservative Christians meeting with Mitt Romney (helpfully linked by Oliver Willis), and it slowly dawns on me that the whole country has gone completely fucking sideways...

Many conservative Christians are quietly nervous about Romney's religion and the issue surfaced as Romney opened his campaigning at a forum in Pella, about 40 miles south of Des Moines.

Mary Van Steenis asked Romney how he would ponder important decisions as president and which source of inspiration he would seek.

"Where would the Bible be in that process?" she asked. "Would it be above the Book of Mormon or would it be beneath it?"

I mean...the guy's running for President. It's an important job. But I don't see how asking the candidates for this job to evaluate the world's great religions makes a whole lot of sense.

This is a complete moron's version of a "gotcha" question, because there's no correct way for Romney to answer. We know he's a Mormon, so we know that he thinks The Book of Mormon is right-on and correct. And the woman asking the question thinks otherwise. But if he were to answer that her book is actually the A-#1 absolute primo bestest scriptural type book, like, ever, he'd be basically admitting he doesn't believe in his own religion. Lose-lose.

I mean...seriously...what does this question even mean. Couldn't you use BOTH the New Testament and the Book of Mormon to guide your prayers, if you were into that sort of thing? Does it have to be one or the other. You either dig Joseph Smith and the plate bullshit or St. Paul and the cross bullshit. Pick your side and run with it, Mittster!

Facing an unanswerably fucking stupid question, Romney comes up with his usual heaping load of dogshit, helpfully scraped off the back of his car after driving to the townhall meeting with the family pet strapped to the roof of the car.

"I don't know that there's any conflict at all between the values of great faiths like mine, like yours, like other faiths, like Jews who don't believe in the New Testament," Romney said.

"People of faith have different doctrines and different beliefs on various topics of a theological nature. But in terms of what it is we are going to believe and also based on our values for our country, I think we come from the same place," Romney said.

And that place is...Bugfuck Crazytown, Population: Most of America

The answer did not satisfy Van Steenis.

"I asked if you had to look to one source what would it be? He didn't really respond to that," she told reporters after the event. "This is serious to me."

Yeah, this is serious. This is some serious stupidity. Mrs. Van Steenis, whose name was just DESIGNED to be the first line of a limerick, is just intent on turning a Presidential Election into a Deity Beauty Contest. A person who insists on their President being part of their particular BRANCH of Christianity is deeply, deeply confused about what it means to be American, yet presidential candidates (well, soon-to-be-former Presidential candidates) go and play right to these people, telling them that their erroneous view of the fundamental principles of our society is justified. It's not! It's completely nonsensical!

Live Free or Die Hard

In the first Die Hard film, detective John McClane proved considerably brave, resourceful and tenacious, but he was also something approaching a normal human being. It's not really a slur to say that most cops are not this clever or good with a handgun, but McClane was still essentially a regular guy caught in an elaborate, over-the-top situation.

Live Free or Die Hard completes McClane's transformation into a comic book superhero. He's still played affably by Bruce Willis in, let's face it, the most iconic, memorable and appropriate role of his long and storied career. McClane perfectly fits Willis' persona - the odd mixture of jocularity and steeliness that makes Willis Willis - and he knows it, and he's clearly come to relish the opportunity to play an Ubermensch version of himself. But McClane no longer obeys the laws that govern the rest of us. He can survive pretty much anything, he's capable of walking off any injury, he never lacks for confidence or resolve and he's never too out of breath to issue forth some kind of witty rejoinder. He's Captain America without a shield.

Mark Bomback's script follows the Die Hard formula with exactness and precision. Elaborate terrorist plot disguised as anarchistic do-goodery turns out to really be an elaborate robbery. A member of McClane's family is kidnapped by efficient cabal of calculating villains. McClane has to rely on amateurs and outsiders for integral information and assistance. Wave after wave of bad guys (McClane openly refers to them as "henchmen" in this outing) are cut down in uncomfortable ways. Wisecracks are...cracked.

Surprisingly for such straight-forward connect-the-dots affairs, these films are dense enough to actually contain a variety of running gags. The way McClane's face becomes increasingly bruised and his clothing bloodied as the film goes on, the way all FBI Agents are named "Johnson," the incredibly serious, brooding right-hand man whom McClane always must face down at the zero hour, these references have piled up over the course of four films now.

Live Free or Die Hard doesn't reinvent or even change any of this material. It diligently includes it, and then heightens everything, taking a franchise that was already pretty goofy and tossing in a hefty doze of pretzel logic along with repeated and blatant violations of the physical properties of our universe. This actually works really well, though I had my doubts initially. I think it's probably the second best film in the series, after the first one.



The film doesn't really open all that well. We find McClane essentially stalking his daughter (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), now a Rutgers student who hates her absent father. They have what's probably the longest conversation we've ever seen between McClane and a member of his family (they usually spend more time with their kidnappers than him in the films), and we immediately realize why there aren't more scenes like this in the other Die Hards. Cause McClane's family are not terrorists and are therefore boring.

McClane's about to go home, we can only assume to drink himself into a stupor, when he's called in at the last minute to pick up some hacker named Matt Farrell (Justin Long) who's wanted by the Feds. This simple errand naturally plunges John into the midst of a Fire Sale, the mythical hacker plot to interrupt America's entire technological infrastructure.

What begins with computer systems being invaded eventually turns into a full-scale blackout. No cell phones, no computers, no lights, nothing. The shadowy Thomas Gabriel (Timothy Olyphant), rumored to have once been an agent of the federal government, controls it all from his secret hideaway.

So it's up to McClane and Farrell to find Gabriel and blow him up, soundly and repeatedly. And that's pretty much what happens for 2 hours. Every action sequence in the film is well-shot, fun, satisfying and also incredibly stupid and impossible. Just incredibly so. It would be insulting, in fact, if it weren't so entertaining. Today, someone explained to me that, theoretically, a busted fire hydrant could knock a helicopter out of the sky, but all I know is, even in the heightened physical reality of this film, it looked insanely fake.

I'm not even sure this counts as a knock on the movie, per se. In fact, if I had to take issue with anything, it wouldn't be the utter and complete disregard for the properties of our universe. It would probably be the "performance" from director Kevin Smith as a hacker-genius known as The Warlock. Smith's doing some kind of accent (his character's supposed to be from Baltimore, but I know some people from Baltimore, and they don't sound anything at all like this), but really he's just talking in a weird voice that's annoying and doesn't suit him, and it's completely distracting.

Justin Long fares a good deal better. He's actually a decent foil for McClane, nerdy and out of his element but not shrill or annoying. (I was never actually that huge of a fan of Samuel L. Jackson in the third movie, whose character was just so big and angry and in your face, so I appreciated how Long was willing to take a back seat to Willis when appropriate rather than trying to take over every scene.)

Likewise, Maggie Q gets in a few scenes as Gabriel's kung fu fighting main squeeze Mai Lihn, who has a really intense, brutal fistfight against McClane inside an elevator shaft. It's one of the film's best sequences, and I'm really surprised this scene in particular got through with just a PG-13. Seriously, this movie is violent for a PG-13. I guess if you don't show a lot of blood or guts or boobies on screen, you can get away with all manner of senseless death. Good to know.



Len Wiseman (aka Mr. Kate Beckinsale) did a surprisingly good job with Underworld: Evolution, turning what could have been a super-lame werewolf vs. zombie effects orgy into an entirely watchable Hammer throwback that actually used effects well to realize an alternate horror-movie reality. Now, he's surprised me once again by pumping yet more life out of what I had always kind of thought of as a stillborn franchise - one great movie followed by a few inferior sequels. This entry's clearly still not up to McTiernan's stellar, classic original, but it's even closer to that goal than McT's second try - the jokey and overlong Die Hard With a Vengeance - managed to get. And let's not even discuss Renny Harlin's woeful Die Hard 2. It never happened...Just repeat that to yourself...It never happened...

Thith Lookth Inthanely Awful!

Good Lord! I thought the License to Wed trailer portended the most foul cinematic crime against humanity of 2007, but this trailer for Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium brings the horrible HARD. It's the film to beat for Worst of the Year, as of right now.



Dustin, Dustin, Dustin...I know you probably thought you were creating the next Willy Wonka, a beloved character to delight a new generation of children. Unfortunately, what you've got here is the latest incarnation of Robin Williams' obnoxious douchebag from Toys. Seriously, the next preview they make for this sure-fire abomination should just feature Dustin Hoffman, in a red bowler hat, standing in a wheat field, apologizing profusely.

(Thanks to Ain't It Cool News for pointing this out...I guess...)

The Walrus Was Paul

Paul McCartney took his show to Hollywood's Amoeba Records. I was not there, but I can enjoy it via the magic of YouTubery.



I see Ringo made it out. That's pretty neat but also really sad. These two hanging out together is as close to a Beatles reunion as the world will ever see.

Also, how can Sir Paul possibly be this much of a dork after all these years? He's been a world-famous entertainer for more than four decades. "We're gonna rock it up"? What does that even mean?

LAist points out that Paul appears to be reading from a teleprompter during "Hey Jude." Are you fucking kidding me? He doesn't remember the words to "Hey Jude"? It's not like it's all that complicated. I mean, half the song is "na na na na na na na...na na na na...hey jude."

It's weird...I definitely knew this was happening and probably could have arranged to get over there, but the thought never even crossed my mind. I mean, I love The Beatles. Love love love The Beatles. And clearly, I'm not totally averse to waiting in long lines. So why not queue up for 1/4 of the greatest rock band of all time?

I think it's a general distaste for rock n' roll nostalgia. With a few exceptions (the Pixies reunion at Coachella kicked all kinds of ass), reunions are a huge letdown.

I was thinking yesterday about this incredible Soul Coughing show I saw at The Palace (now the Avalon) right before the release of their criminally underrated "El Oso" album. The band broke up not long after that and it turned out to be my one and only chance to catch them together, which is a shame, because their music translated surprisingly well to the stage. (I'd go on to see lead singer Mike Doughty in concert many times until his music got all bouncy and poppy and...to be honest...completely ear-splittingly lame).

You can't recapture the experience of seeing an awesome band at its peak; that's the whole idea of going to the trouble of seeing a big concert, particularly a crowded and/or inconvenient one. It might be the only chance you get to see that group in that form playing those songs well.

Congratulations...You Have Been Selected to Receive a Free iPhone...

Mahalo's giving away five iPhones. Not to me. I just work there. No, five lucky members of the public will be gifted Jesusphones. For the low low price of...



Well, okay, we're not sure yet. If you have a brilliant idea for a contest we could hold, somehow involving and promoting Mahalo, why not suggest it over at CEO Jason's blog?

I personally like the Photoshop contest idea...but ace photoshoppers are already the rock stars of the Nerdosphere. Why not give my brothers and sisters out there with no hand-eye coordination a shot at the big time?

Considah Dis a Divorrs

So, I'm thinking, what happened was...the Lovecraftian Beast in this photograph (possibly Yog-Sothoth) attacked and murdered Sharon Stone, and is now wearing her skin as some sort of makeshift disguise.



Yeah, that's the most reasonable explanation...

Lessons Learned in the iPhone Line

Just returned from Third Street Promenade, where I waited for six hours to get an iPhone.

Well, I'm not personally buying an iPhone. It's a bit expensive for me, and I rarely go anywhere or do anything that would allow for portable Internet time. I bought my Video iPod months ago and tonight was one of my first chances to actually get some use out of it, and it still sat in my pocket for most of the night.

No, I was waiting on behalf of Mahalo.com. The phones don't actually go on sale until tomorrow afternoon at 6 p.m., so a bunch of us are working the line in shifts, three at a time.



It was interesting - a chance to experience what may turn out to be a significant cultural moment, but without all the massive downsides to waiting in a 28-hour line. (Like the not getting any sleep thing, the massive boredom thing and the sitting out on a public street like a goober for 28 hours thing).

Hanging out there on Third Street for six hours on a Thursday in a line outside of the Apple Store...I learned some things. And here they are:

- Some of the amateur musical acts that play on Third Street are surprisingly okay. Most are not.

- The Helio Ocean has GPS. The Apple iPhone does not.

- Camping chairs are far more comfortable and easy on the ass than regular folding chairs.

- Santa Monica has a tremendous amount of really beautiful women and the vast majority of them will studiously avoid making contact with yours truly.

- The Helio Ocean has a convenient keypad, useful for text messaging. The iPhone does not.

- In Los Angeles, brief lines, say for films or bathrooms, tend to be quite hostile. I've been at local bars where guys will shove you aside to get to the urinal first. But long queues, say for iPhones, tend to be extremely communal and friendly. No one said anything about people getting up, moving around, leaving their seats, inviting friends into the line or switching off turns with friends. People were making jokes and sharing observations with one another. An egregiously nerdy weirdo in a stupid green hat whose ability to raise the iPhone's asking price was in serious doubt shared a spontaneous hoedown with some young ladies to the strains of "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." Fostering this kind of convivial atmosphere in a long-term line makes sense, as you'll have to be around your neighbors for a while and you might as well get along and enjoy your time together, but it's interesting to see a crowd of strangers spontaneously behave in such a logical fashion.

- No question gets irritating faster than "What are you guys waiting in line for?" My technique to avoid getting extremely annoyed and rude is always to make up the most elaborate falsehood I could think of, and then stick to it religioiusly. "David Hasselhoff is going to be here signing albums in an hour!" "They're giving away free dialysis treatments!" "We're waiting for the bus to Burning Man!" My dream, the ultimate, would be for my victim to go around the next day and share this misinformation with friends, family and co-workers. "I was at Third Street last night? And this whole line of people? There were waiting to see David Hasselhoff sign albums. Ya rly!"

This is just an incredibly stupid question, regardless of how frequently it's asked. We're all in a line late at night in front of a computer store...If you know anything about computers or the tech industry, that alone should be enough for you to figure out what's going on. What could we be waiting for outside of an Apple Store? A free round of delicious apple martinis? Autographed photos of Apple Paltrow Martin? If the Apple Store line isn't enough evidence for you to piece together a theory, you don't know anything about computers or the tech industry...so why do you care what we're waiting for? It's clearly not going to affect you. What were they hoping we'd say? "One random person in this line is going to receive $10 million! Come on in, there's still room!"

- People love to feel superior to others, even if it's only for NOT waiting overnight in a line for a phone, as if that were difficult to do. Line passerby comments ranged from condescending ("Wow, you want an iPhone that badly? Well, more power to you...") to the obnoxious ("You're paying $600 for a phone? Didn't you read the New York Times review?") to the the outright hostile. A guy actually walked by the line and yelled "baaaaaa," implying that we were all soulless sheep-like consumer-bots, I guess. Which is just so easy, to judge someone in this way over something so superficial. "Hey, this person is expending energy on something I personally don't care about...What a loser. Thank God I'm such a super-cool individual, the kind of bold non-conformist who just wanders around malls late at night on a Thursday without buying anything. Man, I'm terrific."

- Jean Baudrillard was totally 100% correct. The iPhone line is a real media event. Earlier in the day, one of my co-workers who had an earlier line shift was interviewed by the CW, and two others were photographed by the Associated Press. All night, people were videotaping and photographing the line from different angles and perspectives, with the Apple Store logo in the background and without, individual faces and large crowd scenes. There's a sense that this is something significant that must be captured for posterity. But the whole thing is also a media creation. The iPhone doesn't exist in reality for anyone but Steve Jobs and Walt Mossberg.


Mossberg and Jobs at the Mahalo launch D: All Things Digital conference

A massive half-year-long saturation campaign has brought the hype over the iPhone to a fever pitch, essentially informing us that this was THE MUST HAVE device of 2007. Maybe of the decade. So we, the public, hearing the message loud and clear, have enacted that favorite ritual of hyped gadgetry, the pre-sale line-up. We're basically just doing what we're told. (In this context, the "baaaa" comment appears not so much off-base as arrogant, adolescent and unnecessarily direct. We're talking about pop culture phenomena here, not the behavior of any single individual, who could have a variety of potential reasons for sitting in an iPhone line. Such as, for example, not purchasing an iPhone but as a favor/assignment for work.)

Then, having heard and acted upon the media message - "Get excited for the iPhone!" - the media then shows up to report on us doing their bidding, but pretending the whole time that it was a spontaneous, unexpected outpouring of iPhone-related enthusiasm. As if the whole purpose of all the magazine covers, newspaper columns, blog posts, keynote speeches, press releases and commercials wasn't to convince people to line up outside of Apple Stores in a frenzied panic to obtain an iPhone.

- The iPhone is going to be enormous. Enthusiasm for it was palpable, for people in and out of the line. Some of the blogs are calling this thing the "Jesusphone" for a reason - it promises the world at your fingertips, a fully integrated experience that combines the best aspects of all of our favorite technologies in a tiny box you can keep with you all day. (Whether this is something the iPhone, nor any object aside from a nimble and well-educated mind, can actually deliver remains to be seen. But this is the promise.)

Just like the iPod, the iPhone simply replicates the experience of using other devices that already exist. Steve Jobs didn't invent the mp3 player, or online music downloads, and he certainly didn't invent phones that can play songs, take pictures and check e-mail. But he's somehow figured out how to package these things in a way that makes intuitive sense to Americans, aesthetically and practically, and gets them excited. E-mail and Google Maps, in 2007, could not be more mundane. It takes a special kind of genius to motivate people from around the country to line up for 28 hours for an overpriced cell phone integrated with these tools, and there's a lot more to it than senseless Consumer Whoredom.

Are You There, Zach? It's Me...Lons...

The comment thread on this 2005 Crushed by Inertia post, "Beat on the Braff," is definitely one of the greatest things in which I have ever participated.

The post itself is nothing special, though it is one of the better title puns I have yet to devise. The simplicity, the cool points for referencing a Ramones song that isn't "Blitzkrieg Bop," the post-Braffian hostility...That was a good one.

Otherwise, the post itself is mundane, just me bitching about "Scrubs" being awful and Zach being considered to play Fletch in the upcoming remake (which continues to be upcoming, now possibly with significantly-less-hated-by-me John Krasinski from "The Office").

But that simple post has thus far inspired 38 comments, only 8 of which were written by me! Only one post in CBI history has generated more commentary, my list of the Top Profane Movie Quotes that was linked on Gorilla Mask, thus generating an unbeatable 91 comments. I may never top that one.

Let's peruse them together...

Anonymous said...

you might want to consider hating the game, not the player...

8:44 PM

This may have been a meatworld friend of mine, I'm not sure. It reminds me of something one of my actual friends would write.

After this, several real friends stopped by to let me know that they, too, approved of the title "Beat on the Braff." Thanks, guys.

Once a few of my friends have responded, then the magic begins.

Anonymous said...

I googled "hate Zach Braff" to find someone who agreed and am amazed you were the only one I found. Having some ideas for a few cool scenes does not make you a cinematic genius. Nat Portman's character has loads of descriptions given her (pathological liar, epileptic, skater, etc.) but is not developed within the plot in any meaningful way. I watched the Spirit Awards and almost wretched when Braff won.

9:43 AM

From this point on, a full two years ago, whenever anyone typed "hate Zach Braff" into Google, they arrived at my blog. This glorious selection bias means that almost all the remaining responses to the post include bilious, seething Braff hate. I unintentionally but awesomely created an anti-Zach Braff club, a place where those of us driven to near-insanity by loathing for this guy can get together and discuss our secret little problem.

Banjo said...

I too googled 'I hate Zach Braff' hoping to be comforted.

Thankyou for giving me a moments rest. Never in my life has a film inspired in me more resentment for its creator. I am amazed that so few seem to be able to see how insulting this film is... and that so many would just lap it up with shit eating grins on their face. 'OMG Zach Braff is a genius, because like... hello... the shins!'

For the record... So not a genius. A smug, self obsessed prick who doesn't need anyone fueling that fire is, I think, a more apt description. Trust me... I have met the guy. ...Wish I'd karate chopped his face off.

6:40 PM

Anonymous said...

also googled "I hate Zach Braff"

Ohmygawd scrubs is so bad and Graden State even worse.

11:27 AM

Anonymous said...

I, too, googled "I hate Zach Braff," having just watched the movie he made. For the record, I hate Zach Braff. I hate his face. I hate his big nose, and his big lips. I hate the way he always wears a long sleeved shirt underneath short sleeved shirts. And I hate the condescending smirk that's always on his huge ugly face.

Of course, for most other people, I would be willing to forgive them for their superficial flaws in appearance, but I mostly hate Zach Braff for what he stands for. He's got an overrated name, he's on an overrated sitcom, and he made an overrated movie about a total asshole who gets Natalie Portman. What the hell. I hate Zach Braff.

- Stephen M Davis

9:43 PM

Anonymous said...

He shits me aswell. He seemts to be a pretentious pseudo-bohemian fucktart with a thing for anorexic blondes. Filth.

5:37 AM

Anonymous said...

Chiming in on the I searched for "I hate zach braff" train. I hate everything about him. I hate scrubs. I hate Zach Braff's god damn face. I freaking wretch everytime someone praises that show. It has one god damn gimmick, which is a substitute for understanding comedy; visualize everything!

I'm conflicted, though, as a movie is coming out in which he costars with Jason Bateman, of Arrested Development (which I absolutely loved). Why? WHY?

11:47 AM

Rory said...

He's just so fucking right on, isn't he? With his carefully manicured hush-folk and twee pop record collection, his sardonic over-acting colleagues, his depiction of rain in America, fucking jesus christ makes you want to cut off his balls and shove them up his arse so that when he shits, he gets shitty balls. Regards, lovely post.

4:56 AM

I'm a particular fan of that last one. Finding each and every one of these folks has been a source of genuine joy; I love when comments come in on this post. It brightens my day. The Internet is truly a remarkable place.

Of course, not ALL 30 comments on "Beat on the Braff" are there to inform me of my proper right-on-ness. My distaste for the Braffster was not well-received in some circles.

Anonymous said...

Great another celebrity hating blog. This just proves that some people just have to much time on their hands. And being the only zach braff hating site in google, i dont think that something to be proud of XP. Why dont you guyz just got some hobbies or something? And by the way how would you act if your brand new sports car gets ruined. most likly like how your acting now, like a complete and utter dumbass.

1:36 AM

This post introduces perhaps the most persistent and baffling form of personal Internet attack. The "you obviously don't have a life" attack, in which the attacker uses the very blog post or column on which they are commenting as evidence that the author must have no social life or professional success.

The argument goes like this: the writing of a blog post takes time time, and this time could have been used to do something manly and worthy of approval such as dating eight supermodels at once. Therefore, any blogger/Internet writer must be a loser lacking the wherewithal to lead a hip, trendy, high-flying lifestyle.

I've never seen anyone really make this case convincingly. It's built on a few crucial and fallacious assumptions, most notably that writing, particularly frivolous writing designed to be amusing, is itself is a waste of time. It's also highly counter-intuitive. If you're accusing someone of spending their time on a blog post rather than living life, doesn't that imply that you feel the blog post must have taken a significant time to write? Which implies that it's well-written, or at least carefully written, no? I mean, if you read something that I wrote, and it sounds tossed-off and incomplete, you'd naturally assume that I spent very little time on it because I was rushing off to do something else. Like dating eight supermodels at the same time. So by accusing me of having "too much time on my heads," he's actually complimenting me in a roundabout way. "This blog post is so clear and astute, it sounds like you must have spent a really long time on it. Way to not have a life, no-life."

Finally, and most obviously, the critique is based on an essential hypocrisy. Anyone who's commenting on my blog probably took the time to read it first, so before they could come on there and accuse me of having no life because I wrote something frivolous, they have to concede that they also have no life, because they took the time to read something frivolous, which is an even less fruitful and engaged activity than the initial writing!

So even though this whole argument just makes the commenter sound petty and ignorant, many of them insist on making it anyway. Possibly because they are 12 years old.

There are other negative comments too, some of them very strange. Some people seem genuinely troubled by my dislike for Braff, as if strong emotions should be denied or rejected, as if a personal blog read by a few hundred people a day at most is somehow an inappropriate place to tell people how you really feel.


Anonymous said...

hey i'm a bit shocked by how you people can hate this person so much when he has never done something bad personally to you. I mean, has he killed your parents, raped you, stolen all of your money, killed little children or any of the other shit that would make a reasonable human being fill with rage? Dont get me wrong, i think his work is pretty crummy, and i pretty much despise scrubs, but why do you need to hate the person himself?

10:39 PM

Well, if someone killed little children that weren't related to me, he wouldn't have done something bad personally, and I'd still be allowed to dislike him.


Anonymous said...

Its a bit sad you rant on like this. I mean if you dont like the show. Dont watch it. If you dont like a movie. Dont watch it. And if someone fucks with your car what would you do? "Oh sorry, please continue" I mean seriously you people suck major balls.

9:10 AM

This one's just puzzling...How am I supposed to know I don't like a movie in advance? Obviously, I'm not currently watching Garden State, I watched it before I knew it was bad.

But the reason I'm writing this post tonight is because someone came to the "Beat on the Braff" page and left a series of hilarious comments I wanted to share, and I know no one goes back into the 2005 archives much any more. (I don't know why...at least 3 of the posts from that year were pure gold.)

Anonymous said...

Let me tell you why you are so ridiculously stupid to be slandering and cursing out Zach Braff. Forget for once any flaws you hate in yourself that you may see in Zach or how anything you dont like you see in Zach. He's a fucking actor. He's a person.

Think about what you're saying. You're saying you hate this man because he's made a movie that you don't like. Or that he's on a show that you don't find amusing. Are you fucking kidding me? So don't fucking watch it!
They only way you could justify disliking him on Scrubs was if you loved the show and thought he ruined it which I think is ridiculous because he makes the show.
You're all waisting your fucking energy. strength, and respectability by saying these things about an artist. So what if he's doing something or being acknowledged for something that you don't feel for. You don't fucking hate a person for that. You don't hate people for doing their job.
You hate fucking world leaders or dictators who make the decisions for their people to make life a living hell.
You hate Zach Braff? You're putting him up there with fucking sadists, rapists, and the evil? Are you insane?
How immature can you be to hate a person who has done absolutely nothing wrong to you or anyone else. Unless of course you have some psychotic thing about New Jersey, portrayals of realistic relationships in the movies, hospitals, or a fucking sense of humor.
Live your own fucking life. Don't slander some guy who's learned how to get his in this world. Get yours.

2:00 PM

Oh my GOD! Zach Braff's a person! And I've been making fun of him and saying that I hate him! Once I wished cancer on him, if you can imagine! The horror!

Of course, I'm being sarcastic. Yes, I know Zach Braff is a person. I know it's not nice to wish cancer on someone, particularly if their only crime is making bad films and TV shows and generally being obnoxious.

But...who gives a shit? It's a joke. Garden State sucked, "Scrubs" sucked, this guy parades around town like he's King Shit of Fuck Mountain (this phrase on loan from "Mr. Show"), I greatly dislike him and I wrote about it on me blog. It's kind of funny. People come to the post and laugh and leave little comments if they hate him too.

To be honest, I feel silly explaining this all to you. I'm sure 99% of my non-commenting audience understood the idea all along. A quick 10 year old would get it.

I'm just fascinated and amused by this person to no end. I mean, read some of this stuff!

"You're all waisting your fucking energy. strength, and respectability by saying these things about an artist. So what if he's doing something or being acknowledged for something that you don't feel for. You don't fucking hate a person for that. You don't hate people for doing their job."

Why is this person telling me what to do? Can't I hate anyone I want?

"They only way you could justify disliking him on Scrubs was if you loved the show and thought he ruined it which I think is ridiculous because he makes the show. "

Yikes...

Here's my favorite part of Comment #1:

"How immature can you be to hate a person who has done absolutely nothing wrong to you or anyone else. Unless of course you have some psychotic thing about New Jersey, portrayals of realistic relationships in the movies, hospitals, or a fucking sense of humor."

Yes, I have a psychotic thing about New Jersey and about portrayals of realistic relationships in the movies. That's my problem, identified. Thanks, Anonymous Braff-loving weirdo!

This story, if you can imagine, gets better.

So, I read the above comment and I can't help but respond. Here's what I wrote:

Lons said...

And you, Anonymous person, who came here and DISCUSSED my blog post at length? You are not wasting energy and strength? Somehow, discussing the merits of Zach Braff is a valuable use of your time, but for me, it equals wasting my life? Explain.

Also, this? "...portrayals of realistic relationships in the movies..." Yeah, that makes you sound like an idiot. I'd refrain from saying such things about Garden State in the future if you don't want people goofing on you.

2:25 PM

Again, I like to point out to my audience when everything they say is based around an obvious contradiction. (In this case, reading and engaging with a blog post while simultaneously telling the author it was a pointless waste of time.)

And I couldn't resist taking a dig at that "realistic relationships" line. You don't read something like that every day. You have to savor it, like a fine wine.

Moments later, within 2 hours of the original blog post, I received this response.

bedjumper said...

At least he doesn't cry about the success...of...boys! Boo Hoo Zach Braff. I think you're just upset because you have not done anything in your life remotely good enough for losers to scorn about online. The guy (anonymous) is so right.

3:50 PM

Okay, now, it's obvious to me that bedjumper is Anonymous. This post is two years old and I've had under 150 people visit my blog today. (I can also check what sites are linking to me, and today it's mostly searches for "albino porn" like it is every day, with no evidence of a lot of people getting here via "Zach Braff" inquiries).

So the chances to two individuals coming to that specific post within 2 hours of one another, agreeing with one another and mutually feeling the impulse to comment (significantly rare) is almost nil. Seriously. It's nearly impossible these are two different people. This person used a sock puppet on Crushed by Inertia. It may be the greatest day in the history of this blog. Plus, I think he implied that I'm gay, which always earns a commenter extra points in my book.

BUT IT GETS EVEN BETTER!

I responded again:

Lons said...

Bedjumper...sock puppet much?

Or is it just a coincidence that some Anonymous doofus came here to goof on me and then you showed up an hour later, in a two year old post's comments section mind you, to defend his or her honor...

Seriously...watch about 1,000 more films, stop being a bullying douchebag, don't pretend to be other people so you can defend yourself in random blog comment sections and you'll start to feel better. I promise.

Okay, I kind of come off like a condescending asshole in that one. It's not my finest hour.

But before I could even finish with this comment and post it, BEDJUMPER CAME BACK to magically transform into yet another fake commenter. Now I'm being asked to believe that THREE individuals have come to the blog within two hours, to this specific 2 year old post, felt similarly and were inspired to leave comments!

M.H. Segal said...

The guys just defending Braff dude. You attacked some guy, let him pick up a sword. Its not like hes making an entire blog for antiantiBraffs.

3:54 PM

M. H. Segal. Perhaps this is the guy's real name and it's a reverse sock-puppet? He showed up to comment anonymously, then returned with a fake moniker, then came back AGAIN to use his real name? That'd be kind of trippy, sure to throw someone off your scent.

Seriously, I can't believe I'm being lectured by a person who feels the need to back up their own opinion by impersonating Internet characters. It's a new low of patheticism, and I'm just happy to be a small part of it.

But if this is a fake name...M.H. Segal...I'm thinking it might be Zach Braff himself.

Now, now, hear me out. Who else would be so concerned with defending Zach's honor at this point, when pretty much every other blogger spends at least 1/3 of his or her day mocking the guy? He's already become pretty much a national joke. When I wrote the first anti-Braff post, I felt all alone in the world. Now, hating him is already becoming passe; he's already due for a hipster revival at some point soon, when we'll all be required to loudly praise his genius and recognize Garden State as a lost classic, criminally underappreciated in its own time.

What I'm saying is that I'm no longer unique in hating Braff, and the only reason anyone could get this upset at the suggestion that someone doesn't like him, upset enough to return to the same old post THRICE to leave comments, would be that...they are him!

So, Zach, if it's you. Welcome. Try not to take it all too personally, I guess...And don't bother asking if we're doing the Braffies this year. I think it's off for good.

This Kid's Sharp

Check out this 16 year old super-badass making Bill O'Reilly look like an idiot on his own TV show.



I know it's not that hard to make Bill O'Reilly look like an idiot. He does it all the time by himself with no assistance from anyone. But this video is still a beautiful thing. The kid kind of hangs back, holds his own in the argument, relies solely on solid, documented evidence (he clearly did his homework) and then suddenly - WHAM! - moves in for the kill.

OMFG Sweet Lincoln-Douglas debate skillz FTW!!1!1!1!

Ruben Bolling Explains It All For You

"Tom the Dancing Bug" is definitely my favorite running comic strip. Cartoonist Ruben Bolling is really working on a different level from any other person in the medium right now.

I particularly love these "Super-Fun-Pak" features he does once in a while, consisting of a few high-concept comic strips. This one features such highlights as "Cool White Guys Using 10 Year Old Black Slang" and "Science Facts for the Immature." Check out "Death of a Detective Who Dies" to get a taste for this guy's defiantly cynical, highly warped sense of humor. Then there's always God-Man's classic showdown with Dr. Moral-Relativism.

Anyway, I'm bringing up Mr. Bolling because a recent "Dancing Bug" strip perfectly encapsulates my feelings on this whole atheism/evils of religion debate. (Yes, I'm still going on about all that).

Atheists, as you'd expect, are a philosophically and intellectually diverse bunch, so it's impossible to encapsulate the fullness of the group's ideas into any kind of generality. Still, I think it's safe to say that a lot of the more militant atheists base their hostility towards religion on a belief that a world without religion would be far better than the one in which we live. As John Lennon sings in "Imagine," a very subversive song that vast numbers of religious Americans apparently enjoy without truly comprehending, a world with no religion is an idealistic dream that maybe, one day, we can all bring about in reality.

And I just think this is more utopian crap. Religion, near as I can tell, is an excuse for awful behavior, not a cause. People don't really do the things their religions command them to do; they just pretend to in order to hold on to some absurd notion of moral superiority. I don't actually believe in any of the mythology, but if more Americans actually behaved the way Jesus told them to, turning the other cheek and giving away all their money and respecting the least of God's creatures, it might be a more comfortable, friendly country in which to live. And we certainly wouldn't be pursuing any wrong-headed surges to needlessly prolong any failed wars of occupation...

Surely my fellow atheists have noticed that there's a lot of highly religious people who are also highly strange and/or crazy. (Not that I'm saying all religious people are crazy...just a whole lot of them...) Do we really think these people would stop being crazy if there were no more church services? They'd just channel the crazy into something else.

Who knows what more horrific pursuit might come along to take the place of goofy religious rituals? Better that the nutters spend their Sundays praying to Invisible Sky Man than taking on that second trailer-park meth lab.

Really, what I'm trying to say is that humans are, as a group, a bunch of despicable, greedy fucks, and that religion makes a convenient excuse for all sorts of self-serving behavior. When Muqtada al-Sadr rallies Iraqis to his cause, he's really saying, "Come do exactly what I tell you. Cause...you know...Allah and stuff. Praise be to his name." That's it. And if there were no Allah, it'd be some other stupid thing, a cheap diversion used to seize greater and greater power and control. Because some people are just sick twisted fucks who need to divide and conquer in order to feel important.

Anyway, Bolling captures the argument perfectly (and far more succinctly) in the comic. Give it a read.

[UPDATE: Compliments of Andrew Sullivan comes this post by Norman Geras, making a similar and excellent point.]

1408

1408 could probably best be described as a horror film of the "haunted house" variety, but it's only a few wisecracks away from being a out-and-out comedy. Based on a story by Stephen King and bearing more than a few similarities to his own novel "The Shining," 1408 features a protagonist so jaded on ghost stories, it takes him about half of the film to become convinced that he's in one. And even after the walls have started bleeding and the hammer-wielding spirits actually materialize around him, he's still trying to explain it all away. It's sort of like a more subtle version of Wes Craven's Scream, a goofy, largely predictable horror film that doubles as a critique of goofy, predictable horror films. It's a modest success, to be sure, but a success nonetheless.



Answer me this...why does Stephen King so compulsively feel the need to write stories about writers? I mean, yes, I understand that writing has been his career for most of his life, and therefore he has more experience and insight into the life of a writer than, say, a construction worker or dentist. But he's a creative guy, right? I mean, his ending's suck, but he's invented more than his fair share of memorable characters and scenarios. I was definitely into "The Stand" for the first 750 pages or so.

In this particular case, our heroic writer is Mike Enslin (John Cusack), who chronicles overnight stays in haunted hotels, inns and beds and breakfasts in a series of not-particularly-popular travel books. The film's actually somewhat confusing in this regard. At first, it seems like Mike's quite successful and respected; people are always commenting to him about his books and he's greeted enthusiastically by hotel owners hoping to cash in on a high-profile Enslin write-up.

But then we get a scene at a book signing and almost no one has shown up, and the one enthusiastic patron who is there asks Mike about the father-son novel he wrote before he became a ghosthunter. Also, Mike quite openly admits that he doesn't believe in ghosts, and always writes truthfully in his books about not seeing any ghosts in these haunted places, but people apparently find his books frightening. Wouldn't they be mundane if they always chronicled haunted houses that turned out not to be haunted? It doesn't really sound like a fun read to me.

Anyway, Mike's naturally at this point jaded on the whole concept of hauntings. The drill's always the same: the owners of the hotel, who have a financial interest in propagating supernatural mystery, build up the suspense with outlandish stories, legends and sightings, and then he stays the night and finds out it's just a boring hotel room.

He receives an odd postcard in the mail beckoning him to the Dolphin Hotel of New York, a city he hasn't returned to since a tragedy that befell his family one year before. Intrigued by the postcard, which reads only "Don't stay in 1408," Enslin arranges a trip. He's warned off by the hotel's manager (Samuel L. Jackson), who seems genuinely worried about Enslin's safety in 1408. No one has ever survived the room for more than an hour, he says. 56 people have died there; some violently, some by their own hand, some of natural causes. A maid who was cleaning the room for 10 minutes once gouged out her own eyeballs, while laughing hysterically, no less.

But, of course, such warnings are a regular part of Enslin's routine; he blows them off every time. What would be unsettling would be if no warning came before walking into a supposedly enchanted hotel room.

So, after some negotiating, the key to 1408 is turned over and Enslin ventures inside. For a few moments, everything seems fine. Then the clock radio starts going off uncontrollably and all hell breaks loose.

This premise is clever but also exceedingly straight-forward. How can director Mikael Håfström (whose previous film was the wretched Jen Aniston "thriller" Derailed) and screenwriters Matt Greenberg, Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski possibly be expected to get a full movie out of one guy freaking out in a hotel room?

The answer is twofold. First off, they cheat, taking their time before getting Enslin into the room and then messing around with space-time a bit in the end. But it was really the casting of Cusack and the development of Enslin as a character that saves the film.

To be honest, it's not a very tight script, despite the considerable talents involved in its conception. (Alexander and Karaszewski penned such biopic classics as Ed Wood and The People Vs. Larry Flynt. Greenberg did...um...Halloween H20 and Reign of Fire. So I guess it evens out).



Once 1408 reveals itself to be an actual evil room and not just an old wives' tale, the film essentially runs out of story. Like in a lot of ghost stories, the spirit world seems capable of shifting our lived-in reality only temporarily. We look in the mirror and see a distorted, undead face, we scream, and then when we look again, our normal face is restored, right? 1408 plays by these same rules. Mike will look at the phone, that phone will start to melt and distorted otherworldly voices emanate, we get a reaction shot of Mike freaking out, and then back on the phone and it's a normal phone again.

Well, after that happens a few times, the audience gets clued in that none of the film's action has consequences, none of the risks or decisions have stakes. Normally, this would spell disaster for a horror film. How can we be scared by something that we know doesn't matter? Monsters are only frightening because of their potential to harm; neuter them, and they become sideshow attractions. But because of the Enslin character's initial apathy and then fascination with his predicament, we get to experience some of these tried-and-true "scare" scenes from a different perspective.

Take the sequence where Enslin has an imaginary argument with what appears to be Jackson's hotel manager, only shrunken down and living in the room's mini-fridge. The ghostly Jackson insists that Mike is getting what he deserves. People find the notion of ghosts comforting, a representation of the life that awaits of all after death. Mike writes books that dispell these myths and crushes their hopes, so it's only fitting that he be punished by the very phenomenon he has spent his life refuting. In essence, Mike's being haunted by a ghost who wants to discuss the nature and practice of haunting someone. The room is apparently possessed by a very postmodern poltergeist. Maybe it's a dead English professor...

It could be because I've just finished watching Season 2 of "Twin Peaks" on DVD, but I found the Enslin character vaguely reminiscent of Agent Dale Cooper from "Twin Peaks," particularly his ongoing chronicle of the entire ordeal on a pocket tape recorder. Addressing himself, though, not "Diane." But there's also a cool-headed emotional distance coupled with a giddy enthusiasm that McLachlan brought to Cooper and Cusack brings to Enslin.

He'll start to freak out, yelling at a dead relative who has just appeared before him or something, and then step outside of the experience and question its veracity. Frequently, this leads to (intentional) laughs, as when he frantically uses his laptop to video conference his ex-wife (Mary McCormack), telling her to send police to Room 1408 looking for him. Even the standard triple fake-out twist ending, that's part of the psychological horror film package each and every time these days, works as kind of a sidelong commentary on the whole notion of twisty endings. To throw you off the scent, Håfström sets up a few really cheesy fake endings before going for the real one, which is actually a bit more subtle and less gimmicky than I expected.