Up Late with Scott

Thoughts for 1/29/2010

2010-01-29T09:24:00.000-05:00

In an effort to regain his popularity with the college-aged crowd, President Obama has renamed the revered Situation Room the "As Far As I Know Everyone Loves The Situation Room, And If You Don't Love The Situation Room, I'm Gonna Make You Love The Situation Room."

Reports that Brad Pitt has gone out and bought a "bachelor pad" are completely false. Now, I know what you're thinking...it really is hard to imagine there might strain on a family with about eight kids running around and constant media scrutiny that might send a guy running for the hills.

John and Elizabeth Edwards have legally separated. This frees up John's time to play the field.

A school district in California has banned the Dictionary - that's right, the entire Dictionary - from its schools because it includes the definition of "oral sex." This now paves the way for innovative ways for students to "Show & Tell."

An alleged mistress of Tiger Woods has come forth to say that his sexual fantasies are not "normal" and is very much into role-play. The woman explained he has a fetish where he likes the bedroom situation to be a sexually-glorified major golf tournament - which explains all the ball washing.

Thoughts for 1/28/2010

2010-01-28T09:42:00.000-05:00

Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner said that the AIG rescue prevented a national economic depression akin to the "Great Depression." Upon making that statement to the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform he turned to his aide and asked, "Think they bought it?"

President Obama has admitted to some missteps in his first year in office. As a matter of fact, in the official transcript of his State of the Union speech he struck the language of that entire section and inserted a picture of Rahm Emmanuel stabbing a steak knife through Martha Coakley's dining room table.

Mel Gibson is making a comeback with the new movie Edge of Darkness. In the film he plays a detective searching for his daughter's killer. I hear he really got bogged down in research for the film, and in order to understand the stress that police officers are subject to on a regular basis he decided to go on an anti-Semitic, drunken bender behind the wheel of his own car and stop starring in movies for almost a decade because everyone thought he was a creep.

Expectedly, Brett Favre is on the fence about coming back for another season of professional football. Unexpectedly, he was joined by a tearful Tim Tebow at the post-game press conference.

A new study shows that, at the same time a great deal of money was being inserted into abstinence-only education, the rate of teen pregnancies and abortions actually rose. In a strange move, abstinence-only advocates have hired Snooki to unveil their new slogan: "Pickles is my thing."

Thoughts for 1/27/2010

2010-01-27T09:21:00.001-05:00

This thing in Haiti is just awful, and it's not getting any better any time soon. Just today, former President George W. Bush left his weekly briefing and announced the world hasn't seen a disaster this big since David Hasselhoff tried to eat a Wendy's hamburger.

Today Kevin Federline released a statement that said he has gotten fat because he's depressed. That, and he figured out how to read Billboard music charts.

A lot of controversy is brewing over whether or not the American Idol contestant stole "Pants on the Ground." This all stems from an earlier announcement that Osama bin Laden took credit for it.

Tiger Woods' wife is reportedly putting the brakes on going through with the divorce for the moment. She'll change her mind when his latest skeleton is dragged out of the closet. I understand it involves a double eagle, a scorecard, and one of those little divot fixers.

Richard Nixon's grandson, Chris Cox, is running for Congress in New York. He's going to have a hard time explaining his nickname, "Tricky Cox."

Thoughts for 1/25/2010

2010-01-25T14:05:00.002-05:00

Scott Brown is the first prominent politician to have posed nude in a magazine since Janet Reno's spread in Guns & Ammo

Jerry Lewis called George Clooney before the telethon for Haiti and gave him pointers on proper "spit take" etiquette.

After his briefing on the escalating devastation as a result of the aftershocks in Haiti, former President George W. Bush asked Laura, "Think they have a good brush-clearing photo-op?"

Oprah decided to weigh-in on the whole Jay/Conan fiasco. She's up to 225.

I'm happy to announce that the Pitt-Jolie split rumors are false. To demonstrate his continued commitment to Angelina, Brad gave Billy Bob Thornton a vial of his blood to wear around his neck.

Scott.

Jay's Side of the Story

2010-01-19T09:33:00.000-05:00

Last night on The Jay Leno Show, Jay gave his side of the story. Watch it here.

He discusses being forced out by NBC executives while he was still #1 and also says he never thought the 10 pm experiment would work. He expresses no ill will towards Conan.

Jay is about two weeks late on this one. He should've given his side of the story immediately. Had he done this he probably wouldn't be viewed as one of the villains in this debacle. Jay also suffers from this (in my opinion, faux) "gentleman's agreement" lifestyle where he walks around without an agent and a lawyer shaking hands based on principle. It ain't show-friends, it's show-business.

Jay may have been #1 in latenight, and he may return to that plateau when he reclaims 11:35, but he'll never be accused of being a savvy businessman again.

Or a stand-up stand-up. It's easy to look in the rearview mirror and try to explain things from your perspective.

Scott.

The Tonight Show with _____________

2010-01-18T00:35:00.004-05:00

In 9th grade - back in good old Westlake, Ohio - I had 9th period (last class of the day) pre-Algebra with Mrs. Sidlowski. The 9th grade was without question the worst year for me. I didn't know what the hell was going on. I was a lost, bumbling high school soul. Like millions of others, I was walking through the halls scared of bullies, girls, and the lunch line. (Okay, maybe I'm one of the few that is severely intimidated by the school lunch line).

Monday through Friday I would work on equations or whatever hell else Mrs. Sidlowski had us doing, but I'd also be writing all over the back of my notebook or on the brown paper cover of my text book. It was always something like, "Show a little faith - there's magic in the night" or my favorite movie at the moment or - what it was more often than not - "The Late Show with David Letterman."

It was also in the 9th grade that I started one of the worst sleep habits imaginable. I would go to bed right after school and not wake up until dinner time. Then I'd stay up until about 2 am. I'd watch Letterman and Conan. Then I'd think about getting to sleep.

If I didn't stay up to watch Dave, I taped it. I remember literally wrecking VHS tapes I rerecorded over them so many times.

One of my fantastical goals/aspirations back in the 9th grade was to move out to L.A. and make it as a movie writer. Another was to be on stage with Bruce Springsteen night after night.

Along with those pipe dreams was one that had me succeeding David Letterman as host of The Late Show. When I wasn't watching movies or listening to Springsteen I was listening to comedy. The craft of it, the pleasure it gives others, everything about it...I love comedy.

There was a kid named Sean in my class that was a year older than me, but he and I bonded throughout high school. He and I were very different. He quite literally would've been one of the "geeks" in the great tv show Freaks & Geeks. But we had rock n' roll in common. He turned me onto the band Kiss - which, despite the many jokes people make about them - they are a true rock band. They're just great, and I have had great times at their concerts.

Sean was great at encouraging people to strive for their goals, and I remember us bouncing our dream futures/careers off each other. One day, in Mrs. Sidlowksi's class, she overheard me talking about how one of my goals in life would be to succeed David Letterman as host of The Late Show. I'll never forget her immediate, bitchy response: "That will never happen." Now, being 14 years old it would of course be a punishable offense for me to respond: "No shit, Sherlock." The other thing about hearing that at the age of 14 is that it really, really stung. I didn't need any help in realizing none of my wildest dreams would come to fruition. I was a freshman in high school. Life sucked anyways, you don't need to flash me a sign from the grandstands as I get pummeled in the boxing ring of adolescence.

I am not a fan of Mrs. Sidlowski.

Flash forward to present day.

I have amassed an incredible nerdy general understanding of how late night television works. I'd also like to point out that despite my allegiance to David Letterman, I have spend a lot of time watching Jay Leno (and continue to). Jay used to guest on Dave's 12:35 show all the time, and I know Jay from the Carson clips I've seen and also happen to love Jay's movie Collision Course and know a little about his stand-up comedy prior to guest-hosting for Carson etc...

At first I wanted to write a multi-piece story about the latest late night war, and it would've included a backstory, Jay Leno's failed primetime experiment, Conan's missteps with his show, NBC's mistakes, etc... Instead, I decided to keep this piece true to what I feel like this blog (and all 1 or 2 of you that may read this) has become: a way for me to be me.

A lot has already been documented proving that NBC has really screwed the pooch on this one. I don't want to elaborate too much, but they botched this real good. Okay, so Jay didn't work out at 10 - there is no reason to strong arm a mega valuable commodity like Conan and unite everyone under 40 against your once-great-now-fleeting-in-relevance network.

For me, a lot of this boils down to the desecration of The Tonight Show. My favorite childhood memories (and probably the only real memory of happiness with my parents/grandparents that will forever be unblemished) are watching the The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson cassettes. My dad had gotten them for Christmas and I remember laughing hysterically at them...just writing about this reminds me of my grandfather's cackle.

It just can't be myself and Conan O'Brien basing our thoughts on this on the quasi-holiness of this institution. I know there are others out there. My immediate frustration with NBC was that they would actually consider starting The Tonight Show tomorrow. That is literally pissing on the graves of the legends that made that show what it became (not mention, they also would be pissing on Jay Leno, who hosted the show for 17 years).

Conan immediately refused. His appreciation for the craft shined through. Conan got the offer from NBC to move to 12:05 and acted swiftly. Jay got the word his show was cancelled and given a half hour starting at 11:35 and sat quietly reading to a classroom of Florida students. (How many people did I piss off with that analogy???). Conan and his people went to work on an exit strategy immediately...and then Jay not only agreed to 11:35 but actually agreed to take The Tonight Show over again.

Only five years ago, this is what Jay had to say to Conan: It's all yours, pal.

Knowing what we know now, Jay has committed a major sin for many people. It really is an act of showbiz betrayal.

Since Dave went to CBS, late night has been Jay and Dave. Jay at #1, Dave...sometimes at #2 haha...but I think it's been pretty clear that Dave is the one that is holding Johnny's torch (no pun intended...gross!). But Jay is certainly the elder statesman. He still wants to become everyone's friend. His show was a safe haven. Guaranteed big ratings and classy on-air and off-air treatment (unless you're Howard Stern...but that's another story). Jay is heralded in the biggest comedy circles (Jerry Seinfeld is very close with Jay, for instance - there's a great scene in Jerry's documentary, Comedian, with Jay).

Patton Oswalt (a terrific comedian - and a guy I think could excel in a talk show format) summed up the current generation's dislike for Jay (listen here). Patton talks about Jay turning off the comedy "switch" when he took The Tonight Show and stopped being a great comedian with a limitless ability to write great jokes and kill onstage. He went for the mass appeal and stopped taking chances.

So...all this dislike for Jay over the sanctity of a television show??? Well, yes and no. Jay is one of the biggest names out there still, and I still think he should've taken a deal with ABC for an 11:30 or 11:35 show when he could've five years ago. For some reason he's got this unnatural affinity for NBC - a network that literally forced him to step down from The Tonight Show in the first place.

Writing all this makes a lot less sense now that we have a general idea of how late night will look like in just a few weeks/months: Jay at 11:35, Fallon at 12:35 on NBC. Dave at 11:35, Ferguson at 12:35 on CBS. Kimmel at 12:05 on ABC.

What next for Conan? I'm of the mindset that going to Fox would be a mistake. Conan is too smart to be limited by a big dumb network. Going to a place like Comedy Central would be perfect...He would be great at either 10 or 12 there. Cable is great because the time slot matters a lot less with rebroadcasting. And a Stewart/Colbert/O'Brien lineup is an automatic comedic erection right there. Alright, lets be honest - what erection isn't comedic?

So, to NBC executives like Jerry Zucker and pre-Algebra teachers like Mrs. Sidlowski, I say you're all fools. Zucker, because Conan is going to be huge wherever he goes.

And Mrs. Sidlowski, because the title of my blog proves that I haven't given up the dream.

Scott.

Dear Mr. Ebert

2010-01-05T23:13:00.001-05:00

Dear Mr. Ebert:

I was scouring the VCRs at Best Buy with my mom and dad. It was the mid-1990s (making me about 10 years old). A day prior my parents had purchased a brand new red Ford conversion van.

It came with a television.

The console that housed the television had a (very slim – hence the necessary scouring) slot for a VCR.

We found the perfect one.

The sales associate gladly handed us a free gift for purchasing a VCR at Best Buy on that day (who knows how long the promotion lasted? A week? A month? As long as supplies last?). The gift was the 1994 edition of your Video Companion.

That very night I literally began to read every review in that massive volume and make annotations of what I had already seen, wanted to see, etc… This was an ongoing process that I engaged in all the way through most of high school. Half the appendix is missing (it started to deteriorate with the excessive use) and there is a lot of my scribbling over half the pages (at one point I even kept a tally of how many “Scott Awards” films you reviewed had earned or been nominated for…yes, the “Scott Awards” were my version of the Academy Awards – I still dutifully do my own awards list every year).

It wasn’t until I eventually read your review of the movie Fargo that I realized I had learned most of what I know about movies from you. Maybe you didn’t write out all the answers to the questions that I had or will have in the future, but you provided the crux of what was necessary for me to answer my ponderings. You ended your review of Fargo with this sentence:

“Films like Fargo are why I love the movies.”

How long had you already been in the business? How many thousands of crap movies had you endured? That tiny moment of self-actualization made me feel like I was justified in my burgeoning obsession with the cinema.

Over the many years since I’ve followed your career quite closely (most of the time). I’ve always needed to know your opinion – and the times where we disagree are at times (ironically?) the most gratifying. You’re not out to please anyone; you call it like you see it. The most recent incident is with the 2009’s Bad Lieutenant: The Port of Call New Orleans. I found your acclaim for it puzzling. Then I went to see it – making me more bewildered at your love for it. But it’s not about agreeing - it’s about understanding. We understand we all have our own thoughts on cinematic excellence. We’ve all got the movies that make us argue or agree about – the shouting matches and the laughter from quoting favorite lines.

Films like Bad Lieutenant: The Port of Call New Orleans are why I love the movies.

I just happened to dislike it.

We took the newly purchased VCR for a test drive. It was defective…didn’t work. We needed to return it for another model. I was fearful my parents would have to return the Video Companion gift since we were getting a whole different VCR.

I hid it in my room. No sense in taking a chance.

Scott

Ebert's review of Fargo

Favorite Movies of the Decade

2009-12-28T15:21:00.001-05:00

I wanted to expand on what my favorite movies of the past decade have been (my goal was 3 movies from each year - some have more). Please note I am leaving off 2009, as I will have a separate for it entry towards Oscar time. Comment away, if you like!

***

2000:

Almost Famous

The Contender

Erin Brokovich

Traffic

Unbreakable

2001:

Amelie

In the Bedroom

Moulin Rouge!

The Royal Tenenbaums

2002:

Changing Lanes

Igby Goes Down

Road to Perdition

The Pianist

Y Tu Mama Tambien

2003:

American Splendor

City of God

In America

Lost in Translation

Mystic River

2004:

Before Sunset

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

Maria Full of Grace

Million Dollar Baby

Sideways

2005:

Good Night, and Good Luck

Match Point

The New World

Syriana

2006:

Children of Men

The Departed

Little Children

The Prestige

The Queen

Volver

2007:

The Darjeeling Limited

Michael Clayton

No Country for Old Men

There Will Be Blood

2008:

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

The Reader

Revolutionary Road

The Wrestler

Scott.

The Best Medicine

2009-12-22T14:03:00.000-05:00

I think I am situationally very funny. I'm that guy that is trying desperately to get laughs at parties and in social occasions and can generally get laughs. But none of it is planned, it's organic.

Just about everyone is organically funny in some way. They can drop a movie quote, a current event reference, or something along those lines that gets a chuckle.

To plan out "funny" is damn near impossible. Joke writing is just as difficult as prose, poetry, or any sort of legitimate journalism. It's a craft. I can't really do it. I want to do it - because so many of my idols are so good at it - but I just can't really do it.

In tough times, you've got to turn to what gets you going. I've just caught up on It's Garry Shandling's Show and The Larry Sanders Show. What a world of good that does to the soul.

For those unfamiliar with it, The Larry Sanders Show is one of the most heralded sitcoms of all time. It wasn't on tv - it was on HBO (har har har). The premise was pretty groundbreaking. Larry Sanders was the host of a nightly talk show (cleverly titled: "The Larry Sanders Show"), but the The Larry Sanders Show interlaced footage of the fictional talk show with the behind-the-scenes and personal stories of the cast of characters. Garry Shandling portrayed Larry Sanders as a vain, neurotic, comedy legend.

In one of my favorite moments on the show (it was actually the series finale), Sean Penn played himself as a guest on the fictional Larry Sanders Show. He was promoting his new movie, Hurlyburly, which starred - among many people - Garry Shandling. Larry asks curiously which actor was on the "low end of the acting ability spectrum" and Penn said that it was Shandling and commenced to talk a large amount of crap about him.

It is a fantastic moment of comedy gold. So here we have Garry Shandling playing along with a diatribe against...Garry Shandling.

I always find it interesting to get to know the comedian more as a person. Jerry Seinfeld (one of my idols) released a documentary earlier in the decade called Comedian, and it follows himself and a struggling stand-up through the comedy circuit.

They are all vain and neurotic. Every single comedian that makes an appearance in the documentary. They all are.

It appears to be a nearly thankless medium (stand-up). But not to the listeners.

The listeners are blessed with hearing words, when put in a sentence and in a certain creative way, elicit such a response that we laugh so hard we are danger of cardiac arrest.

Of course, it's not the laughter that kills us. It's not the hilarity of a finely crafted joke.

It's the ensuing reality we are faced with.

Reality is a harsh mistress, and only one thing can save us.

Scott.

Some Misty Years Ago

2009-10-08T23:49:00.001-04:00

Back when I started updating the blog with periodic regularity several months ago I was trying to find a niche - well, not find so much as carve one for myself. I already feel like I can write incessantly about whatever the hell I want to without any problem - that's my niche. Carving that niche into something notable, well, that's just a different story altogether.

This post is certainly not going to appeal to the masses - but it's going to serve a cathartic purpose that I know I have mentioned in previous posts.

There's a couple things I've been involved with or witnessed or seen that I just never thought I'd ever see in my entire life - and I'm only 24 years old! Right at the top of that list was being the best man in my buddy's wedding. I'm sure that Max and Katie's wedding day was the best day of their lives, and I can share that sentiment!!!

Somewhere, floating in, "Wow - that really happened to me?" land is the fact that I actually have a Bachelor's Degree. For most of my pre-college days I was pretty much 100% sure I was never going to get a degree. I was going to be a famous writer/filmmaker blah blah blah - lots of fantastical notions running 'round my head. And here I am now a graduate student.

I don't want to call this the "breaking through adversity" portion of my life, but in a way it was: getting out of community college. It's actually quite simple - sitting in Parma, Ohio, at Cuyahoga Community College, it wasn't the degree that seemed elusive to me...it was happiness that seemed unattainable.

Happiness came in small, sporadic instances at Tri-C. It was the car ride with to and fro with Max and his sister, it was the little Max-isms in English class ("The doctor is in..." on the first day of class when Dr. Surace strolls into the room), it was the ribbing from Dr. Rokicky for sleeping through her entire class in the previous semester, it was skipping out of the second to last class of summer Spanish to smoke a cigar with a classmate that was getting married the next day and he was going to miss the last class of the semester.

Several different things happened that convinced me to snap the hell out of my, "I was supposed to be a screenwriter/rock star/Cleveland Cavalier" mentality and here I sit...happy.

*Warning* *Warning* *Springsteen Stuff Ahead*

There's plenty of poignancy in Springsteen's extensive catalog. A lot of it has helped me make sense of things I'm feeling and things that are happening in society etc... A lot of what I have learned about him is that he and I have similar influences (one example of this is that a few years ago I discovered that before I ever heard a single cut of a Springsteen album I was obsessing about movies that would inspire him to write some of the songs that I would come to greatly identify with many years later).

Bruce's stuff has always been rather autobiographical, and that has helped facilitate the intense connection all us crazy fans have to him and the music. That's always been apparent to me and many, many others even before I ever figured it out.

I mentioned some things I never thought I'd be able to say I did or be a part of. Well, in less than 24 hours I get to add another one to that list.

I'm going to see Bruce Springsteen & the E-Street Band play in Giants Stadium in East Rutherford, New Jersey. This will be the last concert played at Giants Stadium before it's torn down after the football season is over. They will also be playing the Born in the USA album in its entirety. (Did I mention he is playing 5 consecutive shows there to send that place out in style?)

Giants Stadium (the venue) and the Born in the USA (the album) made Bruce "The Boss."

Getting to see Bruce play in Jersey is one of those little fairy tale myths that circulates amongst Boss fanatics. The snobs all say Philly and Boston are the best places to see him - the really snobby ones claim that nowadays the only place to see Bruce is in Europe. But the purists all agree: it's all about Jersey. Bruce always pulls out the wild cards in Jersey. It's home for him. He feels at home on the stage no matter where he is, but when he's in Jersey he's literally in his backyard.

Bruce overcame his own adversity - much like I did in community college, haha! - and there's plenty of great coming-of-age stories to be found on his bootlegs. One of my favorites is the story he told throughout "Growing Up" at the 9/8/78 Agora, Cleveland show.

The story goes like this:

His mom and dad had a heart-to-heart with him and demanded that he put the guitar down and get a real job...his dad wanted him to be a lawyer and his mom suggested he be an author. So Bruce has to go talk to a priest to help assist in this search - and his dad tells him, "Don't you tell him nothing about the God damned guitar!" After he and the priest talk for a while the priest tells Bruce he needs to speak directly to God. He left Bruce with one more piece of advice: "Don't tell HIM nothing about that God damned guitar!" So Bruce goes to talk to God. It's just a dark hill next to a cemetery. Bruce is unsure this is where he's supposed to go, but he goes up the hill anyway. So he goes to the top and there's tons of people everywhere. He kneels down to talk to God and explains that everyone is telling him to do these things he doesn't want to - all he wants is to play that guitar.

Then there's thunder and lightning.

After a silence there are three words that Bruce hears...

LET IT ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You see it's a silly fabricated exaggeration, but it's the code that Bruce formed for himself. It's what he's been telling us all along. People telling you not to do what you love? Well, that is unacceptable - it's up to you!

In what I may just consider to be the most beautiful way he's ever done it, Bruce reminded all of us of this very sentiment with his new song, "Wrecking Ball."

Bruce wrote this song specifically to commemorate the final shows at Giants Stadium. Lots of memories for him and the band there - and for the fans as well.

But this song goes far beyond simply being a love story for a football stadium.

So if you got the guts, mister

Yeah if you got the balls

If you think it’s your time

Then step to the line and

Bring on your wrecking ball

Bruce is telling us if we are met with a challenge, meet it face to face. It's our life and we are the ones that determine if we sink without a fight.

We know that come tomorrow

None of this will be here

So hold tight to your anger

Hold tight to your anger

And don’t fall to your fear

We can fade away into oblivion if we let go of our passions and succumb to the easily attainable and allow ourselves to do what is simple.

When your best hope and desires

Are scattered into the wind

And hard times come

And hard times go

And hard times come

And hard times go

And hard times come

And hard times go

And hard times come

And hard times go

And hard times come

And hard times go just to come again

The forces working against us will never seize. They may lessen, they may even hide. Nothing is easy. Nothing is handed to us. We will be challenged.

How can we possibly know what to do?

There's only one thing you can do - confront your adversaries, no matter how big or small.

You look at them and say:

Bring on your wrecking ball

C’mon and take your best shot

Let me see what you got

Bring on your wrecking ball

I'll be thinking and living this as I watch Bruce and the band take the stage for the last time ever at Giants Stadium tomorrow.

Now that I can cross seeing The Boss in Jersey off my list, I just have to go about continuing to be happy and those pesky little things like staying true to my passions.

I dare you to make me waver in this endeavor. Bring on your wrecking ball.

Scott.

"Wrecking Ball" by Bruce Springsteen - Video from October 2, 2009, performance at Giants Stadium.

*"Some misty years ago" is from the opening verse of "Wrecking Ball"

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - A Review

2009-07-07T00:17:00.004-04:00

Directed by David Fincher

Written by Eric Roth (story by Robin Swicord and Roth)

Starring Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett, Tilda Swinton, and Taraji P. Henson

Running time 166 minutes

2008

Do you learn more about yourself when you’re alone or when others surround you? Is it how you act in a crowd, or how you act when it’s all up to you?

I’d say the answer is neither…and both.

Introspection is something I do extremely often. The hours spent staring at the darkness before sleep is fraught with wide-ranging emotions. The nights out with friends where you second-guess life directions subconsciously as you tear into a case of cheap beer and laugh about growing up.

I suppose it’s a constant, evolving process.

Benjamin Button did both – but he did most of his learning alone.

This is an appropriate comparison: I thought a lot about Forrest Gump when I watched David Fincher’s The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Forrest did most of his learning alone, too.

Forrest and Benjamin are tragic characters in many ways, but lovely, wonderful ones in more. Forrest perhaps lived the most American tale ever told; Benjamin lived the most unique.

Benjamin’s mother dies in childbirth, and his father sees his son for the first time and is horrified. The baby is a miniature, frail, and crippled being. In a truly horrifying act of fright and confusion, the father nearly murders poor Benjamin. In a slightly less horrifying act, he ultimately abandons the baby on the front steps of what would turn out to be a home full of visitors full of love (also reminiscent of Gump).

The gist of the story is simple: Benjamin ages from old to young. It’s (literally?) a coming of age story.

I never read the F. Scott Fitzgerald story that this is adapted from, but I may seek it out. The script (written by Eric Roth – one of the finest screenwriters of this generation and also penned the adaptation for Gump) is multi-dimensional in that it is telling a quirky story with plenty of drama and humor and even some suspense while encompassing love, morality, and mortality.

It’s important to note that Benjamin never sheds a tear in this film. I view this as a testament to the solitude he found himself in so many times. Being alone hardens you overtime. Benjamin is a hopeless romantic, is driven by his dreams to explore, but was given a full deck of cards (with respect to life). Forrest Gump, on the other hand, was wholly innocent. He was pure. Benjamin goes to a brothel, readily admits to courtships with beautiful women when he is the prime physical condition of his life, and understands the hardened human condition (he makes one of the hardest decisions a human could probably ever make towards the end of the film – though perhaps the most responsible).

What Pitt brings to this picture is innumerable. He perfected the patented Tom Hanks staring-into-the-distance-in-deep-contemplation expression. He can emote with subtle eye movements and minor nods of the head. I’d be remiss to not acknowledge that – like a Clint Eastwood or a Paul Newman or now a Tom Hanks or even a George Clooney – Pitt gets to add his own seal to the performance. His charm, his laugh, his persona is being sold. Only the greats can get away with that. He does.

He has two major counterparts, however. Tilda Swinton – in another small, biting role – plays a once-ambitious woman he first experiences love with and Cate Blanchett – his true love. Swinton and Blanchett are both stunningly able and attractive and are engrained in the small community of Hollywood females that I would say Kate Winslet leads that are smart, extremely talented forces of acting brilliance.

Fincher presents this tale to us in such a reasonable and responsible manner it’s hard to believe he gave us the great-but-gritty Fight Club and Se7en. F. Scott Fitzgerald is certainly not known for wholesome tales, and this story has sex, war, booze, and foul language. Fincher and Roth present a PG-13 film that, I’d imagine, will help many teens find some understanding in their confusing lives (which is what Gump would do for me when I was in high school).

Button deserved all the Oscar nominations it got (all 13 of them) and none were more deserving than for editing and cinematography. The tale weaves modern-day with the past seamlessly and, as the top-notch films of every year do, are able to add a layer or even another dimension through only light or shadows or a different film lens or a set placement or a frame cut. It’s pristine in presentation.

A film like Button serves an important function for a boob like me. It provides food for thought as I lay in bed trying to figure out if I’ve learned anything about myself or about life in my existence.

As Forrest Gump put it - I may not be a smart man…

But I know what love is.

Scott.

Don Juan Scott - Segment 2

2009-06-28T22:27:00.001-04:00

I'm already changing the format of my Don Juan Scott series. It's going to be whatever in heckfire I want it to be. Today's is a sermon OF LOVE!!!

*Disclaimer: When I say things like "fellas" I'm not speaking only of males - I use words like "fella" and "handsome" in a unisex manner...and no, "unisex" is not something teenage boys do when the latest Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue arrives in the mail... ;)

***

WHAT TIME TO YOU ALL HAVE ON YOUR WATCHES???

I HAVE LOVIN' TIME ON MINE!!!!!

You see, you gotta recognize what time it is whenever and wherever you are! When you're out with your friends, when you're out with your family, when you're out with your co-workers, it's always LOVIN' TIME!

You gotta look around - see what is going on around...

Because...

THERE'S ALWAYS LOVE IN THE AIR!!!....

Love comes in many forms, mind you - it comes in the RED HOT passionate KKKIIINNNDDD where all you wanna do is get a ROOOOOOOMMMM!!!...

There's the LETS TALK UNTIL THE SUN COMES UP kind....

There's the LET ME BUY YOU A DRRIINNKK and then DDAANNCCEE THE NIGHT AWAY kind...

There's the I'M WITH SOMEONE BUT I LIKE THAT ONE ACROSS THE ROOM kind...

It's all out there to be had and experienced, fellas - all you gotta do is open up your eyes and your heart and your mind and SMILE and LAUGH...

You've got to understand the GLOSSARY OF LOVE (which DOES happen to include understanding simple words like, "PRUUUUUDE")!

You gotta know the right combination of LOVE COCKTAILS to get the party in your favor - and you gotta know what your bank account can handle!

BUT MOSTLY ALL YOU NEED IS A LITTLE BIT OF FAITH IN THE NIGHT!

You gotta be able to stand up straight and look people in the EYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEE!!!!

You can bullshit the ladies if wanna but if takes a REAL MAN to be himself!!!!...

AND THAT IS WHY THE LADIES DON JUAN ANYTHING TO DO WITH ME ;)

Scott

Don Juan Scott - Segment 1

2009-06-23T22:15:00.003-04:00

This will be the first in a sporadically recurring series. Some of the stories are true. Some of them are made up. One phrase to keep in mind: when the legend becomes fact, print the legend.

I will honor that tradition.

***

Ahh - Christmas time! The bells are jingling, the egg nog is spiked, the women are loose, the men are mighty!!!!

Party time! It's Christmas time!

Run, Run Rudolphhhhh!!!!

When I was at the pinnacle of every young man's self-unawareness (right around 13 I'd say) I was very much aware of the fact that I liked the ladies, and that they absolutely didn't reciprocate that sentiment.

Anyhow - back to CHRISTMAS TIIIIIMMMMMEEEEEEE! Party time!

My next door neighbors always threw one heckuva Holiday Party. This might have actually been the inaugural bash, come to think of it.

So lets set the stage. A couple other neighbors were there (my parents obviously), a bunch of the neighbor's personal friends and family members of their own, and of course some young kids that belonged to this person or that person in attendance - and their were two girls near my age. They were both one year older than myself, I believe.

So, it's a packed house - and the young kids and the two teen girls were nowhere to be found. They were in the basement playing some games and watching TV or something of the sort. You see, at 13 I wasn't really all that different than I am right now (of course I didn't have a blog to keep me sane, but for the most part that me is the me before you now), so I'm upstairs yuckin' it up with the grown-ups making jokes and being generally quite silly.

After an hour or so, I kind of think to myself - "Should I go see if those cute girls my age are downstairs?" Insert "Captain Obvious" joke here: ______

So I head downstairs.

I swear to everything Holy they were just biding their time playing with the young kids to torment me. They probably got one look at me when I walked in the door and knew I was easy to mess around with - much like people still do!

Don't get me wrong, they were really sweet (and did I mention cute?) but they wasted very little time in ascertaining what kind of a 13 year old I was: the Freddie Prince Jr. kind or the Corey Feldman in The Goonies kind (more simply: dug by the ladies or ignored by the ladies).

Turns out I'm neither. I get attention, but not the Freddie Prince Jr. kind - more like the "make me laugh, Clown!!!" kind.

Note: I honestly cannot remember their names. The girl who did all the talking (and the one that this story is really about) was dark-haired and had a fuller body and the other girl was blonde and very skinny.

So the more verbose one is chatting me up about this and that and out came my admission that I was not only single but never had a "girlfriend" blah blah blah (part of me is like, "Can my voice get a little deeper before you bust my balls about all this?" - no pun intended ;) )

After we established my single-ness she discussed her older boyfriend - this dude was probably 15 or something like that - he was Hugh Hefner as far as I was concerned. Lucky guy.

So after we're done with the whole I'm-a-loser-you-have-an-older-boyfriend routine, she moves onto something I was absolutely not familiar with:

Flirting.

So now I'm getting all bothered with this arousing turn of events. We're sitting closer on the couch, laughing - I'm just sitting there like a psychiatry patient that doesn't have all that much to talk about during that first introductory appointment - and the conversation turns to, but of course, romance.

If I have no experience striking up a simple conversation with a lady at this point, I sure as shit don't have any experience making out or anything with a girl, so I've adopted the whole listen, nod, "umm-hmmm" approach.

This goes on for quite a while - right up until it's finally time for me to walk back to my house to call it a night.

So I've said goodbye to the cute girls and everyone and am out the door (my parents had left quite a bit earlier).

I didn't make it very far before someone was right behind me outside standing in my front lawn.

The cute, verbose, older girl.

If there was a caption cloud over my head it would've read, "HOLY SNIKEES!"

Here's how the brief conversation went (keep in mind my only goal now is to come off as a cool, collected, good guy - I damn sure won't be caught dead being inappropriate to this nice girl):

"So I really liked meeting you, Scott."

"I liked meeting you too, [insert forgotten name]."

"So, I have a question for you..."

I thought, "Oh fudge..." (only I didn't think "fudge")...here's my time to look like an idiot with a question about "romance" or something that I clearly won't know anything about.

Turns out, I have excellent forethought. I accurately predicted my demise.

"Are you a prude?"

(With mock indignation) "NO!"

"Prove it..." she leans in close...

"No!" I turn away.

I had NO IDEA what "prude" meant!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I thought it meant "drug user" or something like that!

Kids - if you're out there - when a girl asks if you're a prude in a flirty manner, KISS THEM!

No wonder the ladies don juan anything to do with me... ;)

Scott.

The Reader - A Review

2009-06-21T04:04:00.001-04:00

Directed by Stephen Daldry

Written by David Hare

Starring Kate Winslet and Ralph Fiennes, and David Kross

124 minutes

2008

If you wanted a literal title for this movie, you'd only have to change one word. It would be The Shame. It's about shame in all its guises. The shame of our past. The shame of love. The shame of atrocities. The shame we have from others' shame.

Michael (played by Kross - the elder Michael is played by Fiennes), a 15 year old boy, falls ill while traveling home. He is helped to his destination by a resident of the building Michael has vomited in front of. Her name is Hanna (Winslet), and is 30ish. Months later, after Michael has fully recovered from his bout with scarlet fever, he returns to the building with flowers to thank Hanna. Teenage curiosity leads Michael to peek at her when she's changing clothes. She catches him, and his shame feeds his impulse to flee. He returns again - presumably to apologize - and sexual tension is quickly exposed. Michael, a boy, and Hanna, a woman, embark on whirlwind summer fling that will alter the course of both their lives.

I am going to divulge some spoilers in this review. You are warned.

First things first. Michael is a smart boy, and this intrigues Hanna. She asks him to read to her before they make love. We learn later - but suspect throughout - that she is actually illiterate. She hides this secret from all. She's ashamed by it. Michael hides the affair from all, as well. Surely he recognizes the inappropriateness of the situation. One can only imagine the outcry if his parents discovered this. He's ashamed in a way.

The secret takes on a whole new dimension some years after Hanna abruptly leaves her apartment and Michael. An impenetrable layer of shame is mixed in with it.

Michael, now a law student, is attending with fellow classmates and a professor trials against a handful of female SS workers (Nazis) from Auschwitz. Hanna is one of the defendants. She was a guard.

It's difficult to pinpoint anything more shameful than the atrocities of the Holocaust. If evil does exist, that's probably the best example of it.

The scope of the predicament is quite large at this point. Because Hanna has led a life of shame due to her illiteracy, she is unable to properly defend herself. And, quite possibly, because of her illiteracy she is unable to understand what she was a part of. She cannot grasp the inherent wrong of her actions as an SS guard.

Just like she couldn't grasp the wrongness of taking advantage of a teenaged boy.

This is a troubling film and story in so many ways. Here we deal with statutory rape, crimes against humanity, and choosing not to help someone.

Michael learns that Hanna is illiterate during the course of this trial. Hanna, in her stubbornness to defend her shameful secret of illiteracy, accepts far more blame than her co-defendants. Michael chose not to go forward with helping prove her illiteracy. He would be exposing his past affair with a Nazi.

He is ashamed of himself.

This is a fantastic film in every single way. Kate Winslet is absolutely captivating. There is a reason why she has a monopoly on roles like this. She's probably the best there ever will be onscreen. My theory on her is this: she is able to dominate the screen because she, as a person, understands the material she's working with. I would be willing to bet she is a legitimate intellectual mind that understands how she needs to play a role to assist in conveying the message that the script is giving us. I don't get that feeling with many of the leading actresses - including the perennial Oscar favorites.

Kross is a fantastic young actor that, in the middle of the film, I couldn't help but notice his resemblance to a brooding Heath Ledger. Fiennes is a quiet legend of the cinema. He never phones it in.

David Hare adopted Bernhard Schlink's novel of the same name. This really is an ode to literature, in a way - and it's delivered in a truly literary way. It's preachy, it's adult, and it's rather dry. Simultaneously it's one of the most captivating tales I've encountered dealing with the Holocaust. Gobs of films and stories attempt to make sense of the Holocaust - some are among the upper echelon of great movies. The Reader is in the upper echelon.

Director Daldry and Hare collaborated previously on The Hours, which was brilliant as well. They are an intellectual giant of a team. Difficult material, and exemplary results.

I am aware of many criticisms of this story. I believe some think it's a way to try to lessen the guilt of the lower-level guards of the SS in the concentration camps, and it's clearly not. Hanna is rightly punished with extreme severity.

It does pose the scenario that a professor of mine discussed in a public theory class I took as an undergraduate. He discussed a locomotive operator that drove the train that housed the prisoners to the death camps. The operator couldn't comprehend why he was held in such disregard and charged with crimes. His job was to ensure the train arrived on time. That was his job.

How can you explain the atrocity of the Holocaust to someone that intimately involved in it that simply has no comprehension of their actions?

The train operator and Hanna are pretty much the same person. Did they do any killing themselves? No. But they may as well have.

You see, the only reason Hanna joined the SS was because she had been offered a promotion at her current job - but she would have to work in the office. Meaning her secret that she was illiterate would come to light. She heard the SS needed guards...

The train operator needs to operate trains in order to work. He took an available job...

Michael chose not to bring to the court's attention that Hanna was illiterate and couldn't have done some of the things she was ultimately convicted of. So, while Hanna grew old in prison, he sent her tapes of him reading the stories he read to her that one summer when he was just a love-struck teen.

It helped assuage his shame...

Scott.

There Must Be Some Misunderstanding

2009-06-18T22:00:00.001-04:00

A lot of my idols have dealt with either specific instances of misunderstanding or misinterpretation. What's the deal with that?

Exhibit A: Bruce Springsteen. When Born in the USA came out he was catapulted into mega stardom. Lots of people heard the chorus "I was born in USA" and didn't figure they needed to listen to the rest of the lyrics. Take the first two lines of the song: "Born down in a dead man's town/the first kick I took was when I hit the ground." This is clearly not the beginning to a happy tale.

His frustrations were misinterpreted as patriotic. Another twist of irony (and this was prevalent during the Bush/Cheney days): this type of frustration was easily and readily spun as unpatriotic. Go figure.

Another excellent example of a Springsteen song being misunderstood is the sappy "Secret Garden" piece from Jerry Maguire. Lets just take a quick look at the end of the last verse: "She'll let you come just far enough/so you know she's really there/She'll look at you and smile/And her eyes will say/She's got a secret garden/Where everything you want/Where everything you need/Will always stay/A million miles away."

And this is the song that girls swoon over. This is cock-blockery of epic quality. "She's got what I really, really, really want - and she'll never let me have it!" Sounds terrible! (...feels like a typical weekend for me ;) haha).

Recently, David Letterman had a joke misinterpreted in a way that ended with him apologizing (twice) to an inconsequential former VP candidate - only after she accused of being a pedophile. Wow.

Here are the facts: Sarah Palin's daughter (now 18) had sex, got knocked up, and was paraded stages around the country while her mother tried to get elected in a national campaign. Enter Letterman: Alex Rodriguez, the slimey, 'roided out dude that makes a lot of money to not hit well in the clutch, is the punchline for a joke about getting Sarah Palin's daughter knocked-up during the 7th inning of a Yankee game.

You get that? The joke is about A-Rod knocking up the daughter. In all of this - not a word from him.

It turns out the 14 year old daughter was at the game with Palin. Letterman is castigated for something he clearly didn't intend for - but whatever. That doesn't matter. The joke was misinterpreted by people all over the nation. My favorite critics of the joke were the people that clearly understand comedy better than a man that has had a late night talk show for thirty-plus years - talking heads on cable news channels. They had a field day (actually it was a field week) spinning the misinterpretation of the Letterman joke to make him out to be a man that couldn't possibly be trusted around a teen girl.

Now that's a heckuva misunderstanding.

Over the course of his career, Howard Stern has gotten bigger, better, and more famous because of the general public's misinterpretation of him.

Does he do sex jokes? Convince women to take their clothes off? Ask extremely personal questions of celebrities that are in poor taste? Does he feature guests that do gross things - involving bodily functions and shenanigans of that sort? Does he instigate fights amongst his staff purely for entertainment reasons?

You bet.

What people don't take into consideration is the fact that he does a daily four hour show. Four hours. As an avid listener for about ten years now, I can guarantee you that the most interesting parts of the show - and the most common - are when he and the main cast of stars (Howard, Artie, Robin, Fred, and Gary) are just riffing back and forth. Howard's favorite shows are American Idol and The Bachelor, and he loves talking about them incessantly. He and his wife are active animal activists. Howard speaks frequently of how much he supports the gay community. He tells gobs of stories about his parents, his kids, his nights out on the town with friends and family. There's only so many sex jokes and farting you can broadcast in a day. Let alone a week, a month, a year, or decades.

People see the foul-language and the naked girl and see him as evil person. He's just a dude doing a radio show that has a bunch of fans. You don't have to like him, you don't have to demonize or criminalize him, though.

And poor, poor Joey Belle (you may know him as former Cleveland Indians slugger Albert Belle...he hates being called "Joey," hehe!). Talk about a guy being misunderstood. Those kids that egged his house one Halloween deserved to be run over and brutally murdered by an SUV - it's just too bad Belle wasn't ultimately successful in that endeavor.

There's probably no person in this world more greatly misinterpreted/misunderstood than yours truly - Scott John Esterly. I can't tell you how many people - even people I know and work with everyday - have confused me for that dude in the Dos Equis commercials. I know I may seem like the most interesting man in the world, but I'm just trying to play the game like everyone else.

I'm just better at it than most.

Lots of misinterpretation, misunderstanding, and exaggeration out there these days. Springsteen, Letterman, Stern, Belle, me...we definitely got the worst of it. People just don't understand the difference between being literal and being figurative, being romantic and being realistic, being funny and being over the top, being crazy and being rational.

We exaggerated the image of this working class-type guy from Jersey and made him "The Boss." We exaggerated a persona to create a "shock jock," when he's just a guy with a family trying to get through the day - albeit he's mega famous and rich.

We take things way too literal.

Now, if you'll excuse me - I just had a brilliant idea. You see, there's this girl that I really dig, but she moved away. So now I've got like 500 miles to walk, but I'd happily walk 500 more, just so I can fall down at this girl's door - and in no way is that creepy.

Well, that's just my interpretation of what isn't creepy...

Scott.

Revolutionary Road - A Review

2009-06-17T21:04:00.001-04:00

Directed by Sam Mendes

Written by Justin Haythe

Starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet

119 minutes

Rated R

2008

It seems when Sam Mendes is working with the proper material, he will spit out a gut-wrenching masterpiece void of a typical Hollywood ending with periodic moments of unrivaled beauty.

The material, in this case, was perfect.

Mendes gave us American Beauty and Road to Perdition. The former is one of the more celebrated films of the past 10 years (actually, 10 years separate Beauty and Revolutionary Road) and the latter is, in my mind, superior and greatly underrated by the masses.

The tales woven in these three (Beauty, Perdition, and Revolutionary) all deal with atrocities in a beautiful home on a quiet street. Road is the most tragic, mainly because of its unapologetic emotions. Beauty was verbally frank, Perdition was violent, and Revolutionary is a relentless showcase of guttural emotionality.

DiCaprio and Winslet play Frank and April. They met at a party. They were sexually attracted to each other. Frank could spin any conversation in his favor, and April was a dreamer. They were in love. Married. Kids.

The main body of the story concentrates on their daily battles to avoid how they really feel about each other - which, by no stretch of the imagination, fits the classical definition of "love." This is not to be confused with their willingness to share their feelings about any particular moment in time, displaying just how frustrated they were with whatever the current predicament or fight happened to be.

The script was adapted from a novel by Richard Yates, but it feels like a play. There's really only one main set piece (the house on Revolutionary Road), and that's where all the fireworks happen (both the good and bad kind).

If you'll indulge me, this is a good way to sum up my feelings on the film: if this is a play, Winslet and DiCaprio own the stage.

These two play off each other as good as just about any male/female combo I can think of. You can't help but think about the history these two have together off screen - and, believe it or not - I think that assists in making this such a tragic tale. DiCaprio and Winslet, in the aftermath of Titanic, had to deal with a level of fame that very few are privileged with. It's a wonder they were both able to become the leading actors of their generation. The odds couldn't have been in their favor. Extreme beauty gets you so far, so you gotta have the chops to pull off rolls like DiCaprio and Winslet have been the last decade.

DiCaprio's character is very outwardly emotional, and Winslet is cold and closes herself off from debate. This contrast leads to arguments that make these scenes so awkward for the viewer you can't help but start to sense the likelihood that they aren't going to have a Jerry Maguire moment at the end.

There are three gem supporting performances (in no particular order): Michael Shannon (received an Oscar nomination for his performance), Kathy Bates, and David Harbour. Shannon and Bates play son and mother to each other (John and Helen Givings). Helen is the realtor that sold sold Frank and April the house on Revolutionary Road. Harbour plays Shep, the husband of the couple that April and Frank and friends with. April and Frank and are hosting the Givings (mother, father, and son), and Shannon delivers one of the most devastating verbal blows I've ever seen onscreen during a particularly vicious argument at the dinner table. I can't tell you what it is - it'd be a spoiler.

Roger Deakins served as the cinematographer (or director of photography) on this film. This guy has been nominated for EIGHT Oscars with zero wins (he was nominated in 2008 - but not for this movie. It was for the other Kate Winslet mega movie, The Reader). His resume may be the most impressive this world has ever seen: No Country For Old Men, House of Sand and Fog, A Beautiful Mind, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, Fargo, The Shawshank Redemption - just to hit some highlights. Get this man as Oscar! The brightness he's able to give this movie is mesmerizing. The glow on DiCaprio and Winslet's eyes and faces in the heat an argument burns its memory into your mind. Those little features are made possible by guys like Deakins collaborating with great minds like Mendes - with great lead and supporting actors to fill in the rest.

But it all started with a novel.

One of the best films of 2008.

Scott.

The Hangover - A Review

2009-06-14T23:28:00.004-04:00

Directed by Todd Philips

Written by Jon Lucas & Scott Moore

Starring Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, and Zach Galifianakis

Rated R

100 minutes

2009

I haven't written about a new movie in a long time. I'm happy this is the one I chose to break the hiatus.

My appreciation for films has grown over the years. I am extremely selective about what I go to see in the theater, but owning a Blu-Ray player and HD TV with surround sound lowers your threshold quite a bit. All of a sudden I would find myself saying, "Of course I am going to watch Spider Man 3. It's Blu-Ray." Horrific, I know.

The story couldn't be more simple. Four guys party in Vegas - one of them is getting married the day after next - and enough shenanigans ensue that they have to deal with returning a tiger to Mike Tyson, a baby to a very recently married stripper/escort, a stolen police car, and a tiny, naked Asian man in the trunk of their actual car. And other stuff. Oh, the groom is missing, too.

The reason this movie succeeds on every level is mainly because it is plot-driven, and never forgets it. The beginning of the movie is centrally focused on the wedding preparations, and the entire second act is finding the missing groom for aforementioned wedding, and the third act is - you guess it - getting to the wedding.

This script could probably be used to teach film students the most basic lesson in screenwriting: every scene must propel the story forward and (ideally) increase intrigue/interest. Somehow this movie adds constant laughter to that simple-yet-difficult formula.

Onscreen, no one does a finer job in this than Zach Galifianakis. (Side note: pick up his live comedy dvd from 2006. He's fantastic). He plays the groom's brother-in-law-to-be, Alan. This guy has got every conceivable behavioral problem: short attention span, impulsive, a drug problem, is clearly battling depression, has a gambling problem, and is not allowed within 200 feet of any school. When it is suggested that card counting is illegal here is his reasoning: "It's frowned upon - like masturbating on a plane." No rational adult would think like that. Most rational adults I know aren't funny, either, so maybe this guy is onto something. When it is further explained to him that masturbating on a plane is also probably illegal, Alan explains that it only became illegal post 9/11. "Thanks, bin Laden."

The other guys are Bradley Cooper, who plays Phil, a life-hating-party-loving teacher (not believable that this guy could get away with any of his antics and still have a wife, kid, and job, but hey - it's Hollywood...well in this case, it's Vegas, too!), Ed Helms, who plays Stu, a p%*##$ whipped "dentist" who has a past life as a mega-partier, and Justin Bartha, who plays Doug - the groom (aka the "straight man" - think Luke Wilson's role in Old School).

Cooper is good in a Vince Vaughn-lite kind of way, Helms clearly has a wide comedic/acting range and could probably carry a movie on his own (and I predict he will before long), and Bartha is adequate in his straight man role. Bartha is the weak link. Even as the guy who plays it straight Luke Wilson cleaned up in getting laughs in Old School (of course, Wilson had gobs more screen time than Bartha, so I'll give Bartha some leeway).

While this a crude comedy to the its core, Todd Philips has matured greatly as a director. Prior to this, his three biggest movies were Road Trip, Old School, and Starsky & Hutch. I am a big fan of the latter two, but not for anything more than their comedic value. The Hangover is far more coherent as a story than either of the three big movies he's done, and it has a far more refined look. Phillips proves to be very adept at photographing the desert sands and bright lights of Vegas with the differential qualities they need in order to be completely effective.

Take my advice. Have some beers and grab a bunch of friends and watch this movie. Then go out on the town.

And try like the devil to avoid stealing Mike Tyson's tiger. You'll learn very quickly that, "He's still got it!"

Scott.

Constructive Criticism - An Editorial

2009-06-14T12:47:00.003-04:00

I've made some comments on Twitter/Facebook (hey, check my personalized Facebook url out: http://facebook.com/scott.esterly) about how abhorrent reader comments are after news articles about the murders of controversial figures, state-sponsored executions, and suicides.

A bridge in Akron, Ohio, is being brought up to modern standards by having a fence put on it (it's getting funded through federal stimulus monies) - which will act as a suicide deterrent. Just within the past week a man leapt off the bridge to kill himself, and an impromptu debate over the merits of erecting the fence sparked in the user-comments section. Here's a gem posting: instead of a fence, they should put up diving boards. every spring all the white folks line up to toss themselves off this bridge, a fine tradition dating back to it's very first year.

On June 3rd, Ohio executed Daniel Wilson - a man who savagely killed a woman in 1991. A couple comments: Burn in Hell forever Danny! and another one bites the dust.

In my mind, both the use of stimulus funds to modernize the bridge in Akron and the use of the death penalty are ripe for high-minded discussion. I have no illusions that "high-minded discussions" are prevalent in society, interesting to the average person, or even necessarily more beneficial than upholding the status quo.

A little high-minded debate should take place. As an employee of a legislative body, I can assure you that there is some intellectual debate, but many pieces of legislation are reactionary to local concerns, reactionary to current events, guttural, and simply political-jockeying.

I also recognize that reader comments left on news websites are in no way reflective of the prevailing trends in public opinion. They do reflect, to a certain extent, levels of civility, understanding, and attitudinal fluctuations in society.

Should "JWWright" of Cleveland be able to make his perhaps-in-poor-taste comments on a website? Of course. I have no desire to censor or reel his thoughts in. It'd be nice if rational, reasoned comments were also left to rebut him, but I can't force people to do such a thing, and they shouldn't be (we tend to issue long-form comments in the blogosphere with silly-titled websites like "Up Late with Scott"...).

I've harped on about this for years: I don't believe in censorship, but I'm an ardent supporter of self-censorship. I very much try to remain respectful in my rants ("The Tellyvision Man" may not be viewed as all that respectful to John Kasich...). More can be accomplished if we all adapt an agreeable, civil demeanor.

This is a fantastical notion, of course. Civility isn't possible at times, perhaps even inappropriate. I've never dealt with oppression, but I don't imagine I'd take too kindly to it. I may very well abandon civility were I oppressed.

But being agreeable may be key. Budget deliberations in Ohio right now have absolutely no appearance "agreeable." The Governor and Ohio House of Representatives are Democratically controlled, and the Ohio Senate is Republican controlled. There's a budgetary shortfall basically any way you cut it apparently, and both chambers of the legislature passed their ideal versions of the legislation without considering how the hell to mend the two.

Ohio is not alone in this problem, and it's not relegated to politics and legislation. This happens in the workplace, in the family, in friendships, in relationships.

Take a two-sided debate. Someone is pro-something, the other is con-that same thing. Personally, I like that there are disagreements. Pro/con is good. What I take issue with are fringe-dwellers on both sides that lob indefensible comments spewing hatred to the masses. Now imagine a legit news article posted on the website with reader comments at the end.

In Twitterland, @Dmcnul91 summed it up as follows: human+internet+anonymity=wretched hive of scum and villainy.

Now, to the point. Do we try and change this? No. The fringe-dwellers deserve their freedom to make these comments, but we need to recognize the effect of these "reader comment" forums. Newspapers are dying, and the Internet is where we turn for news. Even TV news shows feature emails and reader comments on their programs.

I also can't force more constructive debate, I can only hope to influence it in my own way. The way that I'd like to do that is to encourage leaving comments on these sites. A quick word or two. Express pleasure or displeasure with the situation. Write a coherent, understanding passage about how you disagree or why you agree. Or set up a blog. Create an outlet for your thoughts.

Like it not, Facebook and Twitter will assist you in this process. There have been many, many occasions that there have been 10 or 12 comments left on a status update of mine debating things ranging all the way from nuclear proliferation to what your favorite film noir classic is. I hope to continue this trend and get even more thoughts posted.

You can start by commenting on this post, if you like.

No pressure, though. It's all in your hands.

Scott.

Keep The Fire Burnin'

2009-06-10T22:13:00.002-04:00

Ah these are the days. I sit at home and type about the same old stuff over and over. I might even pull in a few new readers every once in a while...I'm going to try and put a new spin on my "forward thinking" mantra this time - and I promise to start expanding to different topics.

I'm in a funk and I'm pretty mad about it. It's ridiculous. Things are going quite well for me but - as a great man has said - "...poor man wanna be rich, rich man wanna be king, and the king ain't satisfied til he rules everything."

Well, I'm not poor...but I'm not rich...and I don't control anything, really...so I've got a lot of work to do according to that.

So when I get home I kind of sit and think about what the fix will be tonight to get me out of the funk temporarily. You may recall I wrote about taking car rides and listening to meaningful music...well this week it has been revisiting some favorite movies.

I have chosen film noir this week, with Out of the Past and Sunset Boulevard.

There are hints of comedy in these, but they are moody and end with crappy deaths. Sounds like what my obit will probably be like, right? Hey - as long as it's quick I don't much care how I go. I'd hate to be remembered as unfunny, though.

I had drinks with a good friend last night - hadn't gotten to see her a lot recently. Allergy/cold/funk was forgotten.

Surrounding ourselves with people we love is probably the quickest fix to a funk.

It's also the challenges we put before us. If I don't challenge myself to be happy when I get home then how the hell can I be?

I'm pumping out these blog posts as much as I can because it's completely OK to reward ourselves with a sense of accomplishment when we do something that may warrant it. I'm putting something on paper (in digital land - or a "series of tubes" as former Sen. Ted Stevens would say) and letting anyone who may wish view my work (that number is admittedly small, but hey - I'm trying to carve a niche here, get off my back!).

I'm going to push forward with these rants until I develop a consistent rhythm that will allow me to expand into different topics.

Look for topical editorials or reviews or anecdotes in the near term. I hadn't done any creative writing for years so I am going through these exercises (thumping on and on about "forward thinking" is the main one) to get myself back into the swing of things.

I think the two short stories I've written display my branching out abilities - of course they're incredibly similarly themed and one was derived from a Bruce Springsteen song (an incredibly loose derivation, but a derivation nonetheless). I pushed myself to progress.

I also recognize I am at the limits of the ridding-myself-of-angst essays. Gotta get out this funk.

Once and for all.

The writing funk, that is.

I - just like all of you - am going to have the funk-battles eternally. (Sounds like something James Brown was doing in the 60s/70s, doesn't it? "Funk-battles")

While I may change topics and branch out with other types of writing, I'm going to be battling that inner angst, funk, whatever you want to call it.

The unknowables are what keep us from being some sort of Stepford life form. If we were conscious of the fact that we are happy, what the hell are we going to strive for?

Of course I'm happy, but I'm not 100% happy. You gotta strive for something. That's why passion exists. That's why we fall in love.

And out of love.

And in again.

You keep on dreaming. You keep on writing. You keep on working. You go on the job interview, because you gotta keep your options open.

How do we keep doing this? Who the hell knows?

Just keep the fire burnin'.

Maybe that's why I perspire so much. The flames on this baby are as high as the tallest mountain, and I carry it with me everywhere I go.

Scott.

The Place You Can't Remember - A Short Story

2009-06-08T20:40:00.005-04:00

Note: This ain't nonfiction, folks.

***

Phil sat at the dais in a trance. Here he is, the man of the hour, just as he had hoped and worked for. He was about to be honored by colleagues and friends as the next president of the Making Dreams Happen Foundation.

He had started working with the foundation about five years ago, after a quick rise through the ranks of Governor Elliot's administration. Phil started out on the campaign trail as a field organizer and was placed in the communications office. He excelled at crafting press releases and was given some minor speech writing tasks. Eventually he was assisting in portions of the second State of the State Address and moved on to an assignment as a deputy regional director. He passed up an advisory role with the governor to start with Making Dreams Happen. He wanted to carve his niche with a "nonprofit."

Making Dreams Happen's mission stated some lofty goal about helping first time homeowners avoid foreclosure and promoting community awareness, but Phil saw an opportunity to expand that - and the hundreds of extensive partnerships with businesses throughout the country.

"Ladies and gentleman. We've heard from some of the state's leading voices - and that video message from Governor Elliot was just amazing, wasn't it? - but I think it's time to hear from the next president of the Making Dreams Happen Foundation, Mr. Phil Robinson!," Jeffrey Miller, Phil's designee to be his chief of staff, began clapping his hands as his duties as emcee culminated. The audience erupted.

The thunderous clapping and piercing whistles and cat-calling from the audience caused a noticeable jerk in Phil. He snapped to quickly and stood up smiling. He and Jeffrey shared a split-second glance as they shook hands and laughed and congratulated each other. You couldn't have noticed it from the crowd, but it was there.

Phil took his place behind the podium and took a small sip of water. Hands were still. Breathing was collected. Mind foggy. "Thank you, all. This is wonderful. I still can't believe I've come this far. I owe a lot to a lot of people."

He did owe a lot. As he finished that sentence he peered into the audience. From what he could see, there were local, state, and federal officials on hand. He saw his mother and father. His younger sister was with her beautiful family. Look at those adorable little kids.

How long had he just paused? Snap to it.

"I always tell a story at the beginning of my speeches when I'm out lobbying - oops, poor choice of words, sorry," the crowd played along with the time-tested "Freudian slip." Never failed. It seemed far faker than usual to him tonight.

"When I'm talking to my supporters - that's it, yes, my supporters - I recount a story of a time when I was down on my luck. I didn't have all that much money, I had some, and I could buy food and make the rent and even go out on the weekends, so that wasn't the major problem. But, what I didn't have, what I was plain out of, was that little, itty bitty figment of our subconscious, that you can't even detect ordinarily, that gives us direction in our actions.

"My daily life was a battle for happiness. It wasn't until I became engaged with the community, in the process of service, that I was able to ignite that flame that yearned to burn - I was meant to serve." Applause.

As he waited for the clapping to come to an end, he looked over to Jeffrey. He was leaning back slightly. He had been nodding along with the speech as he always did. Phil felt a sag in his stomach. How long had he been looking away from the audience?

"I'm picking up the reigns of Making Dreams Happen after Seth Johnson's simply magnificent ten years. We, as a community, owe him a great deal." Applause. Standing ovation.

Seth, who was sitting next to Jeffrey, nodded in appreciation with a small smile and tried to hush to crowd. When that didn't work he mock-reluctantly stood to formally bow and blow kisses to the crowd. As he sat down, he wiped his nose with a handkerchief. Phil squinted after he saw Jeffrey's head slightly jerk and lean towards Seth, like he was leaning in to hear a whisper. A slight flush went over Jeffrey, and Phil could sense a glance his direction as he turned back to the audience. He needed to keep focus.

"You know, we do some tremendous things here at Making Dreams Happen. Our partnerships long ago reached into every corner of the state and country. We have literally helped people in every single state in the nation. Helped them save their home. Save their families. Save their dreams." More applause.

"Until now, that had been enough." Silence smacked Phil right in the face. Eagerness. Anticipation. Phil's stomach was officially flip-flopping. His smile was wide. His eyes fixed. His voice didn't waver.

"There are a lot of people across the world that don't have the resources we do right here at home. There are lot of people out there that don't have access to food, let alone money for it. There are people out there too disadvantaged to dream - we can make their dreams happen! We are coming to a third world country near you! Thank you, good night!" Explosion of applause.

Jeffrey was the first to leap to his feet with supporting applause and quickly wrapped Phil up in a hug. Phil shouted in his ear, because the audience was so raucous, "Start spinning the specifics!" After the hug, Jeffrey exited stage left to greet the waiting reporters to unveil the strategic plan. Classic rock piped in through the speaker system and balloons fell. Phil glad-handed the dais and made his way to the front of the stage to meet some audience members that flocked towards him.

***

Governor Elliot entered the enclosed back patio where Phil was waiting, with an unlit cigar hanging from his mouth. The governor was dressed in Sunday casual attire. He looked straight out of a Palm Springs country club.

"Phil, what the hell is this crap about you not coming back to the Statehouse?," the Governor walked right up to Phil's chair and crowded him so much that it proved difficult for him to stand up to shake his outstretched hand.

"Um, that's right, sir," Phil finally found his feed and stood up, the back of his legs sliding his patio chair back into the bay window making a noticeable thud. The Governor shook his hand fiercely.

"Um? I've never heard you say 'um' since I've known you. Eh, forget it. Sit back down." Phil did so. The governor pulled out a cigar cutter from his pocket and lopped off one end into an ashtray and took the seat across from Phil. There was a book of matches sitting on the table next to Governor Elliot. He removed two and struck them to light his cigar. He puffed silently as Phil watched. "So you're looking for a plush little gig, I take it? My administration won't cut it?"

"Governor Elliot, I've served you as long as you've been in office and risen quickly and been trusted to do a lot..."

"Yeah, yeah," the governor cut Phil off. "I know you're one of the biggest reasons why I don't have a chance in hell of not winning re-election. The first third termer in state history. They're going to re-write the Constitution. I know you had a lot to do with it. What did you have in mind?"

"The Making Dreams Happen Foundation."

The governor puffed loudly after he heard that. He shook his head. "Are you looking to pick a fight with Seth Johnson?"

"No. But I want his job within five years."

The governor chuckled and changed what leg he was crossing. "Boy - I taught you this game too well. You'll get in. I'll make him let you in, but he is going to hate you and fight you and will probably beat you in the end."

"But you and I know that's not what will happen."

"Why is that?"

"Because you taught me all too well."

***

"Governor, this chicken shit has done me in and you can't even mention me in a God damned, random-ass interview for the Gazette?! My future doesn't matter? You're an asshole. You and this Robinson jackass that I've had to put up with five years and now he's taking my job. Grade A asses. You've pissed me off something fierce and I wish your career a miserable, public death. Shove it!," Seth Johnson slammed the phone down so hard it broke the desk unit.

Seth opened up his closet door in his plush office and removed the striking jacket that completed his suit. "I should've run against that jackass when I had the chance. God dammit," he muttered as he smoothed out his clothes. He looked over to the man sitting across from his desk. His most trusted adviser. "Well, Jeffrey, looks like you and I are out on our own."

Jeffrey Miller stiffened. He had been dreading this moment for months now. "Mr. Johnson, I'm going to serve as Seth Robinson's chief of staff here at the foundation. I didn't want to tell you until you had talked to Governor Elliot."

"You knew the governor was lining up support for my ouster?" The incredulous look made Jeffrey's innards squirm. Then the look of realization on Seth's face broke his heart. "Shit, I'm too old and soft. You were in on it the whole time. You're shit, too."

***

There was one last press person that Jeffrey was going to let have access to Phil, and it was going to be one question and one question only. Local college paper. Wet behind the ears kind of kid that Phil always loved helping out with a quote every once in a while. Phil greeted him with a firm handshake and smile.

"What's your name, buddy?"

"Steve, um, Steve Post. I'm from Marsh University."

"Alright Steve - you get the last question. Hit me."

"Um, Mr. Robinson, how did, when did you, what was your mindset, um, back when you first wanted to serve?"

"Steve, can you speak up there was some noise back there and you stumbled a bit - don't be nervous buddy. I'll make sure you get a good quote, don't worry."

"Well, when you, uh, when you give your speech about service - I take it very personally and it drew me to you in the first place and, uh, I kind of sense that it means a lot to you even though you say it all the time, you always have such passion behind every word and it seems, uh, to reinforce why you do what you do."

Phil is swimming in the young reporter's earnest words. He's trying to put himself in the mindset that this young inarticulate-yet-idealistic kid is framing for him. "Ok, son, what's the question, though?"

"What did it really feel like when you first decided to serve? When you decided to help others? To serve our community?"

Phil looked into the reporter's eyes. They were wild with excitement. He stayed focused on them for several moments. This kid was inexperienced, but he had the right idea that even the most seasoned reporters fail to utilize consistently. This young student that wrote for the local college wasn't going to say one more damn word until Phil responded. Whatever he said next would be the quote.

A wave of thoughts rushed over Phil. Phil had little memory of his undergraduate days. He could remember going to rallies and knocking on doors for his favorite political candidates and writing letters to the editor and staying up late to watch election results on TV. He could remember the general things, but not one specific emotion or moment that could possibly answer this question.

He thought about all the shouting Governor Elliot did with his staff - himself included. How many staffers had been reassigned or fired for little errors that didn't matter at all. He thought about how many were left by the wayside for those that were more "loyal." He thought about the hours he spent doing opposition research against dozens of political candidates - some even in primary battles where he was working against his own party. He thought about pushing Seth Johnson out the door before he was ready to ease on down the road.

He looked back into the reporter's eyes again.

"I can't remember."

***

Scott.

Creative Destruction

2009-06-07T13:30:00.002-04:00

Destructive behavior seems to be pervasive in this day & age. DUIs galore. Shootings. Watch the news, read the paper. It's all you'll see.

I think this is the epidemic we need to concern ourselves with. As we continue with these ridiculously unsettling economic/psychological times throughout the country and world we need to remember our responsibilities to ourselves, our family, our friends, our community (in no particular order).

Times are tough, and they're getting tougher. Bills still need to be paid. The lawn needs to be mowed. You need to take out the trash. You need to moderately consume everything from heartache to booze to love.

I'm not perfect - sure I dance with the line of irresponsibility. I don't exempt myself from criticism.

I have one goal in life: be happy. My happiness is in place but I recognize that my current happiness will evaporate at some point. I will need to find a new kind. New job? New school? New city?

I sense that having a "goal" has evaporated amongst people. Perhaps this is the mentality of every 20-something that is in the workforce for the first time, and the reality of making ends meets and the dream of making it big collide and the state of being jaded is the result.

Perhaps this is the result of war (and adverse/less-than-desirable world situations), economic recession etc... I wouldn't count any out.

It's pretty disconcerting when the entire world is watching GM grapple with its demise - but not without a last ditch effort to salvage it.

It's hard to expect an individual to remain responsible when we watch the most American of mega corporations like GM (and all the auto manufacturers, and the financial systems etc...) mess their shit up for decades and be met with backbreaking efforts to salvage it. What are we salvaging? We're salvaging crap that nobody wants anyways (in the case of GM).

But here's the question: do we let them wither and die without a fight? That is giving in to our goal of happiness by not helping others. But helping them is rewarding their long-term irresponsibility, which perhaps nullifies our claims that we should strive to make our lives and this world a better place.

I don't have the answers yet. I have the questions.

And the determination to remain happy.

Scott.

Climate Change

2009-06-07T13:11:00.000-04:00

There was a stretch of time where all I could think about was moving to Los Angeles to try to make it in the movie business. I abandoned that dream for more realistic goals - like holding elected office (note: to be read with a bit of sarcasm...).

I had resigned myself to staying in Ohio forever. Perhaps "resignation" isn't the proper word to use here, but that's kind of what I did. I see too much opportunity here in my home state. I know a lot about it. I'm getting the connections and everything you need to get a solid career started.

But I hate the winter.

In Cleveland there's a ton of awful, stupid snow to deal with. All the time. In Columbus, it snows a half an inch and people drive like they have bumper cars on the roads and there is not one single snow plow ANYWHERE to be found.

It's a day like today that could get me to move. I've got this ridiculous allergy thing going on (so bad it has caused me to go alcoholic-beverage-less for the entire weekend...I took a chai tea latte to a party last night to soothe my throat. Insert lack of masculinity joke here: ______).

It is approaching 80 degrees and will only get hotter. I'm sweating out of allergy-related fatigue in addition to the heat, and I couldn't be happier.

I think better in the heat. When it's cold out I can't even yearn for warmth because I'm so fixated on how crappy the weather is.

Perhaps a climate change is in my future.

Scott.

The Legend

2009-06-02T23:24:00.000-04:00

Legends are fun. Society makes them up all the time. Sully, the pilot that landed in the Hudson...legend. Octomom, in her own right, is a legend. Susan Boyle may be the most recent legend at the time that I'm printing this.

What kind of legend do you like? Do you like the real life one, or the fictional one? The sports one? The romantic one? The cocky one? The self-aware one?

You don't have to be a movie buff or a voracious reader to enjoy a legendary figure or story. All you need is an active imagination. Basically, you need a pulse and that's it.

We all dig it, I promise. We love legends. Hollywood coined one of the greatest quotes of all time. "When the legend becomes fact, print the legend." It's true. It's done every single day.

There's the legends we are taught early...Jesse James, John Henry just to mention some names.

There's the legends we learn through sports...Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods, Joe Montana.

There's the legends we see on the screen...John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Johnny Carson, Lucille Ball.

There's the legends we encounter in real life. A teacher. A friend. A co-worker.

Radio legends. Howard Stern. Cousin Brucie.

Music legends. John Lennon. Wilson Pickett.

The politician legends. FDR. JFK. Nixon. Reagan.

Then there's legends played by legends.

The kind where every gear jammer knows his name. They swear he got ice water running in his veins, foot like lead, and nerves like steel. He's gonna go to glory riding 18 wheels.

I am, of course, talking about a man called Bandit from Atlanta, G.A. (as forever emblazoned in our hearts and minds by Burt Reynolds - a legend).

Scott.

The Tellyvision Man

2009-06-01T20:52:00.001-04:00

(If you encounter a word that is ALL CAPS that means I'm shouting in an exaggerated, televangelist tone. Actually, this whole post should be read in an exaggerated manner, and the ALL CAPS words should be ridiculously loud...kind of like me in real life).

***

I have an agenda tonight.

An agenda of RIGHTEOUSNESS!

I want you to come with me to the PROMISED LAND and experience all the glory that is BEAUTY on the HORIZON!

You see, there was this little, little man, on the TELLYVISION!

HEEARRTTLAAANNDDD type talk show guy, I'm talking here!

This little man, he has some ideas for the GGREEAATTT state of Ohio...

But do not be fooled...this man, he ain't little!

He is mighty in the minds of MANY, however WAYWARD they may be!

But there's this other man. With a loyal band of, what shall we call them...yes, I know what to call them...

THE MAJORITY POLITICAL PARTY OF OHIO, the DEMOCRATIC ONE!

The one of inclusion!

The one that doesn't care if you're black, white, gay, straight, poor, downtrodden, disenchanted, liberal, moderate, conservative, male, female...we even are pretty loose on the INCOME TAX REQUIREMENTS!!!!

It's the ROCK AND ROLL party of Ohio...

It's the FUN TIMES party of Ohio...

It's the GETTIN' THE BALL ROLLING on FIXING the PROBLEMS OF THE PAST party of Ohio...

It's the WE'RE GONNA DEAL WITH THE UNCONSTITUTIONAL EDUCATIONAL FUNDING FORMULA INSTEAD OF RAKING THE PROBLEM UNDER THE COALS LIKE THE SENATE HAS BEEN DOING FOR YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS party of Ohio...

It's the party of Appalachia's own TTTEEEEDDDDDYYYYY STRICKLAND!!!!

I can promise you this - there will be a tremendous battle between two TITANS, and one of them will go back to the TELLYVISION and the other will go back to doing the PEOPLE'S WORK!

I SMELL A FIGHT, AND WE AREN'T ABOUT TO BACK DOOOOOWWWWNNNN.

HAVE FUN MR. TELLYVISION/LEHMAN BROTHERS MAN, YOU'LL SOON GET A NICE VACATION FROM ALL THE CAMPAIGNING....

The road to recovery is near - DON'T TURN BACK NOW....

I CAN SENSE THE HOPE, CAN YOU???!!!!

Scott.

The Mechanism

2009-05-31T13:19:00.001-04:00

The stories that I'm mainly drawn to are dark in nature. I absolutely love one film, which is exquisitely dark, called Mystic River. Good does not prevail. Not even close.

My previous post - the short story "Lost Souls" - is also void of a happy ending. These tales are more interesting and complex, in my opinion.

The bitterness allows us to long for the other end of it. Our hope mechanism is triggered. Writing the story about Ralph losing his wife, his job - and his wallet - was more about being hopeful than dark and mysterious.

Making Ralph down on his luck is a great example for me to live by. Don't make his mistakes. I can do better.

Cleveland is kind of like Ralph. We just lost the Cavs a little prematurely, the Indians are nine games below .500, and the Browns are...the Browns. I love Cleveland sports, but in no way does it dominate my everyday life. For many, it does, and last night was particularly devastating.

Our championship drought makes for a damn good movie (actually, it has already been made - Major League). It's a dark tale with lots of heartache and no happy ending.

But we do have the longing for hope. It's there. The question isn't whether you're content with misery, it's how you handle it.

We can chalk it up to a curse. We are known as the Mistake on the Lake. Our main export is crippling depression.

You can take the weak, dismissive, "There's always next year," approach.

Many will bemoan the "inevitability" of LeBron jumping ship.

Here's my take:

This is exactly the kind of story I love. We came up short and are left devastated. Like Ralph. There's a sequel waiting to be written. It may very well be just as dark, frustrating, and heart breaking as the first one.

But the mechanism has been triggered. I can sense the hope. Can you?

Lost Souls - A Short Story

2009-05-25T16:43:00.005-04:00

The past two weeks had not gone well for Ralph. As he had been incessantly, he sat behind his desk in his office going over the moments leading up to the present. His wife left him merely hours after he received a devastating performance evaluation at work. The woman he had worked so hard to be with was gone, and he was being closely monitored by his superiors. It was Wednesday, and his next evaluation was Friday afternoon. He hadn't touched any work this entire time.

It was 3:15 pm. The day is officially wasted again. He grabbed his portfolio bag - which had not been opened - and walked out of his office and took the back staircase to the parking garage to avoid being seen by anyone.

As he left the garage he pulled into the empty streets and lowered all four windows in his car to let the summertime humidity engulf him. No way he was going to go back to his house at that time. After his wife left he cancelled the cable, turned off the air conditioning, and started unplugging all non-essential appliances and virtually every piece of electronic equipment. He wanted to make sure that empty house was as unappealing as possible to be in since it brought him so much grief.

He even unplugged the refrigerator. This forced him to finish his beers before they got warm so he could pass out and not be subject to his broken heart and spirit while he tried in vain to sleep. He had done this every night for two weeks.

Not tonight. He wasn't even planning on going home. Ralph needed to be one person in a large crowd. There was an NBA playoff game on later, so he could sit in a crowded sports bar and observe the masses as he drowned his sorrows yet again.

As he drove into the mid afternoon sunlight and began to sweat from the toxic July heat, he popped a disc into his cd player and turned up the moody, emotive progressive rock song and began to fantasize he was living in a spaghetti Western film and had to rush to get to the train station before high noon.

***

Jane strolled through the tiny market completely unaware of her own movements. She was in the same daze she had been for a couple years now. The afternoon was wide open for her. The boss at the small graphic design firm she worked at didn't want the employees to have to suffer through the heat since the air conditioning system was on the fritz again - and no way they wanted to push all the computers to their limits by operating them in such adverse conditions. She didn't even notice the heat as she sauntered between the aisles.

After she paid for her groceries she stopped at a nearby magazine stand and quickly checked to see the covers of the current events issues. A Vanity Fair caught her eye. They always did. Beautiful layout and design. The content was always top notch. She handed the cashier some cash and slipped the magazine into one the bags she already had. She headed towards her studio apartment down the block in another state of ambivalence.

She got a text message along the way letting her know that a bunch of her fellow staffers were going to a happy hour in a little bit and would probably stay out all night, since it didn't look like they'd work again this week. They'd have to work Saturday and Sunday since the repairmen couldn't make it to their offices until Friday. She only skimmed it before deleting it.

Jane rearranged her cupboards as she put away her market items and poured herself a glass of water from the filtered pitcher she kept on the counter. She walked over to her work station and shuffled through some of her designs and sighed. They were good - but uninspired. One was for a restaurant menu, the other was for a tiny record label. Whenever she brought her work home from the office she realized how smalltime it was. It wasn't quite what she remembered fantasizing about when she finishing up her undergraduate degree.

She took a seat on her overstuffed armchair and glanced through her magazine. Only a couple more hours till she would join her boyfriend, Johnny, and she could remember there was still some blood bumping in her veins.

***

Ralph was on his fifth Dos Equis before any type of a crowd started to form at the sports bar he was at. He was glad he left work early to secure a spot on the patio to overlook the street. The playoffs and the heat brought out skimpy clothes for the women and macho behavior for the men. Lots of intrigue out there. It was very much out of reach for Ralph, and he took pity on those poor fools who thought their entire life would be as good as watching their team win and taking their lover home with them.

What he feared would happen did. The bar became so crowded he had no unobstructed view of the game, and the waiter couldn't make his way out to Ralph very frequently to get him another beer. He didn't see a spot at the bar either, so he decided to cut his losses and saunter a couple doors down to another bar that didn't have a dozen flat screen TVs - just a large, clunky one with a fuzzy picture. It was still the playoffs whether or not it was in HD, and they had plenty of booze.

Ralph was pretty drunk but his system had hardened itself over the course of the past two weeks and he was functioning on hops and barley and very little food quite well. He walked into the new bar and paused as the frigid air conditioning shocked his senses. His body seemed to reject it and he sensed more perspiration tricking down his forehead. He ordered a sandwich along with the beer this time and settled in at the long, mostly empty bar.

As the game approached halftime he ordered another beer. When it arrived he sipped it as if it was the first beer he'd ever had in his life. He pretended it was as refreshing as he imagined one would be if he had been sitting on a plush Caribbean resort overlooking a beautiful beach. As he let his mind roam, he heard the barstool next to him being moved backwards. The screech as it moved across the floor slightly startled him. He looked to his right, and a gorgeous twenty-something sat down beside him.

"Hi, I'm Jane."

***

Johnny caressed Sophie's hair as they rolled together in bed. Their passion was winding down. After it all, they laid side by side and Sophie reached for a cigarette. "No smoking - Jane will know if she comes over later," Johnny admonished her as he stood up to walk towards his dresser. He slipped on a white button down shirt and pants and tended to his flowing hair and made sure he fit the latin-lover look to a T. Sophie sighed but didn't care all that much. This was her cue. She slipped her underwear on and gathered her jeans and tank from the chair and got dressed. She left without a word.

Johnny sprayed some cologne on, grabbed his money clip, and headed out the door.

***

Jane and Ralph remained sitting next to each other and exchanged a few words here and there. Ralph, in his state of intoxication, found her presence extremely pleasing. He was drunk enough not to be too intimidated by her youth and beauty, and not to a point where he was belligerent or made an inappropriate advance. Besides, he thought, she'd only had three Coronas. She seemed like she could party. Before he could even contemplate a move there would have to be a shot involved. Rum maybe.

He was also not intoxicated enough to think she saw anything in him at this point other than perhaps a conversationalist. They had discussed the game, the city, the heat, and what side of the city they preferred. They were both East side loyalists.

"So, how old are you, Ralph?" Jane, for the first time, turned to face him for an extended moment. She smiled as she licked the piece of lime quickly before she inserted it into her new Corona.

"Would 'mid-thirties' satisfy you?"

***

Johnny opened the door to Jane's apartment. He had to feel the wall for the light switch. When he finally flicked the switch he was slightly caught off guard by how bright they were. He walked over to the kitchen and opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of tequila and took a quick sip from the bottle and replaced it. He went over to her work station and opened up the bookcase to the left of the desk and reached down to the bottom shelf and removed a cigar box.

***

Ralph and Jane took a stroll down the street - away from the bar scene. Jane had her arm around his waist. He was conscious of the fact he had a slight stagger. He sensed she was holding onto him mainly for balance - not necessarily out of lust or desire. Temporary good fortune was possibly headed his way it seemed. "I'll get us a cab," Ralph craned his neck to check the streets for any yellow car. "Where should we go? My place? I don't have the air conditioning on."

"Lets just walk a little further. We should cross though, I don't want to go up that hill. We can head to the shore."

It took about ten minutes to get to the nearest park that had a view of the lake. Along the way Ralph and Jane had stopped a couple times to kiss and now she was gently rubbing his chest as they plopped down near the edge of the twenty foot decline leading to the beach.

Jane rolled to her side to kiss him.

***

Johnny parked his car at a meter just down the street from the crowded nightlife scene where the game had clearly ended and the home team won. Small celebrations were overflowing to the streets. He ignored them as he crossed the street and walked in the opposite direction. He entered darkness, leaving the lights and laughter in the background.

A new text arrived and it vibrated his phone in his pocket. He looked at the screen. It read: "1st bench. 2 the right."

He entered the main pathway of the park with his phone still out and he used its screen like a flashlight. Right where she said it would be. First bench on the path, on the ground to the right. He picked up the wallet and opened it up quickly out of curiosity. He could tell there was a couple hundred in twenties at a quick glance. He shines the digital light over the license. He laughed quickly to himself. "Ralph. Poor guy."

Johnny progressed up the path and took out the rag soaked in chloroform.

***

Ralph was on top now. He didn't even hear Johnny approach. His mind was spinning at that point and he didn't even fully appreciate that he was making out and probably going to go all the way with a random, hot girl. When the rag went over his face he was oblivious.

***

Jane and Johnny were naked in Jane's bed. He eventually got up and went into the kitchen and got a coffee can from one of the cupboards. Ralph's wallet was sitting on the counter and he took the cash and quickly separated it by bills and bound them nicely and added them to the existing wads of nicely organized cash stacks in the coffee can.

"How much are we at now?" Jane asked.

"I did a job last night and got a couple hundred off that. With 'Ralph' we hit the mark, babe. We're at a hundred grand."

"I thought so. Time get out of town. We can start our new life," Jane slipped a robe on and walked to the windowsill and smiled ever so slightly as a humid nighttime breeze came across her face. Johnny embraced her from behind and started to whisper in her ear. She turned more towards him and between whispers he would gently kiss her.

His cell phone vibrated loudly against the wood of the nightstand across the room. He gave her a pat on the bottom as he turned to walk over to get the phone. It was a new text. He slipped his pants back on and started to button his white shirt. Slightly annoyed, she looked at him, now with her back to the window.

"This will be a quick job, Jane. Don't worry. I'll be back tonight. Another easy one."

"None of them are easy. I thought you were through with those guys, anyway."

"I'll be back before morning. Trust me."

"You're all the same."

"Who's all the same?"

"Men. You're all just boys. You never quit."

"I'll quit in the morning. We live for the night, remember. Something happens to us when it's dark. We are alive." He walks towards Jane. They kiss.

"You're going to get killed if you're not careful." He was walking to the front door.

"Go find yourself a 'Ralph,' then," He smirks at her as he opens the door. "Love you."

He closed the door before she could respond. She wouldn't have reciprocated anyway.

***

Ralph sat at his desk. He was dressed up real nice. Full suit and tie. Everything matched. He hadn't bothered to come into work on Thursday. He was too embarrassed and hung over. Waking up to a cop poking at you in a public park will do that to a grown man. It was Friday. There was a knock on his door. One of the administrative assistants poked her head into his door. "Ralph - Mr. Brown wants to see you before you take lunch." She was gone with that.

"Fired before lunch. That's polite. Let the man have the afternoon to contemplate the rest of his future," he thought to himself with a sarcastic chuckle. He turned to his computer screen and logged onto the city news site. A headline about a gun fight downtown intrigued him. He read the first paragraph. Something about an East side man of Spanish descent getting gunned down after he tried to hold someone up. The idiot picked an undercover cop to shakedown. They suspected this guy of numerous other targeted pick-pocket instances. He fit several artist-renderings for recent victims.

He closed the internet browser and grabbed his messenger bag. He looked at it. Then tossed it into the garbage by his door. He walked into his boss's office to get fired. He made a mental note to close the windows in his house and turn on the air conditioner when he got home.

***

On Saturday morning Jane sat at her work station at the design studio. The air conditioning was fixed. Nothing was really different for her. She had cried a little when she heard about Johnny. She was, to be honest, a little relieved she still had the capacity to have her heartstrings tugged at a little. She wasn't dead to the world like she thought she was. Not yet.

***

Scott.

P.S. Inspired by "Incident on 57th Street" by Bruce Springsteen - including the names Johnny and Jane. Live performance here. Lyrics here.

Pass Me That Torch

2009-05-23T09:58:00.000-04:00

A lot of what I want to write about is idealistic in nature. It's really hard to find the inspiration sometimes. You gotta be keyed into the right song, the right movie, the right whatever. Sometimes it comes from unexpected places - the hue of the sunset over the trees of the hill you're descending. The company you're in.

The shot that buries the Orlando Magic in Game 2 of the Eastern Conference Finals in the year 2009.

I've written before about swinging the baseball bat in my backyard fantasizing about my beloved Cleveland Indians of the mid-1990s. I haven't really discussed my Cavaliers.

I understood when I was about 8 years old I wasn't much of an "athlete," but I committed highlight reels to memory and still have thousands upon thousands of basketball trading cards. I'd shoot hoops in the backyard with an alternate timeline of my life in my mind where I was able to play with Michael Jordan and Joe Dumars and Mark Price.

Sports just lends itself so nicely to dramatization and romanticism and hope....icism?

The montages set to rock songs, the slow motion MJ dunks set to orchestral melodies and a BOOM as he throws it down.

Replaying the shot of Ehlo over and over and over in real-time. Yeah, it was a dagger in our heart. It took us until the new millennium to begin to move on. I wouldn't trade it for the world. That shot birthed the mega stardom of probably the greatest baller ever. Sure it was on our watch in our house, but I still wouldn't trade it.

I wouldn't go back and change the 1995 Indians season for anything in the world. I was heartbroken when we lost to Atlanta - the team of the 90s that was NEVER supposed to win it all...they were the team destined to fall short every time, not us!!! - but 1996 should've been the redemption year. We fall short in 95, the most magical season I'll ever live through, but rebound in 96 to capture what is ours.

We know that story. Robbie Alomar and the freakin' Orioles take us out in Jacob's Field.

I didn't stop my backyard expeditions around the bases or celebrations at mid-court after hitting my own version of "the shot." It may have been difficult at times, but I had that youth-driven idealism you can't replace. It's because of the magic of coming from behind to smack a dinger over the left field wall in extra innings.

When LeBron hit that shot last night over Turkoglu, he did something for the city of Cleveland, the country, and the world, that those players that I idolized back when I was a kid did for me.

For me it was watching Jordan hit those 6 three-pointers against the Blazers and just shrugging it off. Or when he hit that shot against the Jazz to win the Finals.

It used to be "Wanna Be Like Mike." Now it's LBJ over Hedo. An entire generation of daydreaming and happiness for our children.

Scott.

Prove It All Night

2009-05-19T21:53:00.001-04:00

I'm a firm believer that there is no right or wrong answer to anything. There are moral absolutes (this is how I can defend any political ideals I have...helps to hide behind morality - turns out the GOP doesn't have a hold on it...I digress) to be sure, but I'm talking about subjectivity here, people. Get hip to it.

Some of the most irrational arguments I see from people are after seeing a movie, listening to a song, or reading a book. The classic is the simple, yet effective, "It's dumb."

"Why didn't you like Munich?" "It's dumb."

I used to write critiques of movies (some of them are archived on this very blog!) and, having never been known for brevity, used to write thousands of words explaining, in my humble opinion, that something didn't cater to my tastes. Saying "it's dumb" may not be entirely inadequate of a statement if you can back it up.

I'll admit, some movies I've watched the only true reaction that comes to my mind is, "What a piece of trash. How ill-conceived and, quite frankly, stupid." I prefer the snotty, elitist approach at times like this. I never pass up a chance to expound my abhorrence for the movies that rub me raw.

You ever talk to a musician about music? Oh, boy...this is the best. For some reason they forget that music isn't about who is the most technically proficient, or how the chord progression is simplistic and blah blah blah. I don't expect you to like Bruce Springsteen because I do. In fact, if you don't like his music, I hope you never ever listen to it. Why waste a moment of your time with it? But if you can't give me a better answer than "he sucks as a musician," your case, while clearly a step up from "it's dumb," doesn't hold all that much water with me.

I really love the Oscars. This is a time when we get to see who's snobbery in taste is more influential, the quiet little Slumdog Millionaire type, or the mega-movie The Return of the King type. (Major caveat: my biggest dream in life is still to win an Oscar, so please take this into consideration when labeling me as someone who thinks they are holier than thou, because this post is me being facetious at many times).

And, really, no one is free of snobbery. The rage pulsating through my veins when Springsteen didn't get even an Oscar nomination for "The Wrestler" (Note: he WON the Golden freakin' Globe!!!) was enough for me to run out and knock over a tall oak (tree). I wanted him to be voted the best in the world! (Or, really, I wanted him to be the winner of the popularity contest of the other four crappy songs he was nominated along with).

Is the Academy wrong for giving Slumdog Millionaire all the attention it got? No. Were they right? Sure, because it's their ceremony, but that doesn't really mean that it was the Best Picture of last year. It's unknowable what movie that was. The best barometer of this is probably the highest grossing movie, which was The Dark Knight. And don't even get me started on that one! (I already vented on it here).

What is all this about?

I'm looking for subjectivity to come into our common vernacular. I love arguing for the heck of it just as much as the any self-conscience jackass in a debate between which route is quicker to our friend's house in North Ridgeville, but sometimes it goes too far. I don't think you're inadequate for liking a movie I don't, but I think it's unhealthy to give up explaining why, or, conversely, take the ill-informed I-can-shout-louder-than-you approach because you can't come up with anything better. You know why you do or don't like something.

You don't need to write a blog about it, either. You don't need to get it down in MLA format or take me through some intellectual journey.

Do you resent famous musicians with a particular sound because they aren't as technically proficient as the band you do like? It's not the proficiency, it's the sound. This argument holds more water - in fact...wait a minute...it holds water!

Plainspoken is ok. It's wasn't Bush's inability to articulate a complete sentence that really bothered me. He really does seem like a guy you'd want to have a beer with or watch a ball game with. I don't think he is dumb, either. To avoid both a diatribe of my feelings on the Bush era and the risk of appearing like a hypocrite by simply saying, "He sucked as a president," I'll offer something a little more succinct - though non-specific.

Under his reign, which coincided with my formative years in understanding my political leanings, I came face to face with an argument that my GOP friends still use on me to this day. "You may be a Democrat now, but just wait until you make some money for yourself." That's part one of the argument. The second part is the guilt-trip they lay on you. "We're giving handouts to people that live on welfare to avoid working for an honest living."

As long as that is the argument that I hear on a daily basis, I'm going to resort to my guttural instinct, which is to work to defeat you. Wealth is unimportant to me. Sure, I want to live comfortably. I want a car that runs. I want a big screen tv. I want a nice computer. I want a nice place. (Note: I have all these things, and I ain't rich). My instinct is to help as many as possible, and I don't do it for extreme financial gain. I don't deserve to get rich for helping the poverty stricken. No one does. This is a guttural feeling. I can't paint you a picture, but it's there. And I'm not calling you dumb.

I don't have all the answers, because it's all subjective. You just go out and prove your point to best of your ability.

If someone proves theirs more effectively, chalk it up as a loss and go back to the drawing board. Your beliefs don't die on Election Day or on Oscar night. They live on.

For Democrats, they haven't won definitively. Congresses only last two years. For Republicans, they haven't lost definitely.

Who will win the next subjectivity battle?

Time for us all to go out and prove our points.

Scott.

Every Time You Close Your Eyes

2009-05-18T21:25:00.004-04:00

Bruce Springsteen posed the question: "Is a dream a lie if it don't come true - or is it something worse?"

This won't be another one of my "Boss Time" posts, don't worry, but that quote will serve as a sort of driving mechanism for my thoughts in this entry.

I think it's time I come clean with my many fans of this blossoming blog.

It is a major source of pride that I am 24 and still hold onto the base ideals I had when I first started to understand what it meant to be political, philosophical, or adult. Despite all this, I find flaws in my beliefs. I find inconsistencies. I'm not all that deterred in these faults, because I sure don't have all the answers on humanity - nor does Barack Obama, Rush Limbaugh, Oprah Winfrey, Elizabeth Hasselbeck, or even Bruce Springsteen.

I don't much want to get into my personal politics at this juncture, but I'll give you a taste of one of my major beliefs - and a clear admission that it's unrealistic: Pacifism. I am a pacifist.

Since pacifism won't grab the planet by the horns any time soon, I'm going to have to come grips with the fact I am going to die in a world that doesn't adhere to pacifism. I'm no Gandhi, but I've always dealt with notions of grandeur when I think of myself and my inevitable death. I blame TV. And Sergio Leone.

So, since I'll die and there will still be war raging in far and near corners of Earth, is my dream a lie?

Or is it something worse?

In my example (pacifism), it's just a lie. It's not worse because it's such a sweeping dream. It's a good dream, it's just out of reach for the foreseeable spectrum of time, however.

What about the people that dream for the first woman president in their lifetime? How many millions of Americans will never see that happen?

How many, born into extreme poverty, dreamt of getting one, legitimate chance to make their lives better?

How many, irrespective of income level, dreamt of getting a second chance? That's a good, honorable, and deserved dream, isn't it?

These are worse than lies.

So I'm young, getting into a career-type situation, and still full of ideals. But there's a force against them - and my dreams. I have encountered the jaded. The ill-intentioned. The opposition. I may (or hope to...) remain stoic outwardly, but my desire has waned slightly. I liked the protection that being an undergraduate offered. I had wonderful professors and mentors that saw to it that I go after exactly what I wanted. They had their beliefs in me - so they have to have belief in themselves, right?

Now we come to the crossroads.

Of course I'm going to delve deeper into this system before me - one that is throwing pitfalls at me, but in what manner do I do it? Will I remain on the path of irritation, or cut a slightly different path before me to seek a higher road?

How jaded do I allow myself to become? You've got to have the right combination of ideals and pessimism, I feel, to get anything of substance accomplished. This is where pragmatism and practicality come into terrific use: know the limits of your own desires.

The goal should probably look something like this: be able to live your life with your ideals in tact, but have an understanding of what our society will allow, and in what increments.

There must always be someone to carry the torch, though. Within this contingent of pragmatists, there need to be idealists that remind us to forget that we are dealt lie after lie after lie every time we close our eyes.

Scott.

"Rebellion (Lies)" by Arcade Fire

Replacing

2009-05-11T21:58:00.002-04:00

The flavor of the day. Soup de jour (umm, that sounds good). Beer of the Month. Daily special. Featured item.

We are always changing it up. We're replacing stuff. We go to the bullpen for relief. There's a lefty up to the plate - we gotta make the switch.

Sick of the Bleed American album by Jimmy Eat World when you're on your way to work? OK, it's The Gaslight Anthem Now. Then go back to the basics: Jackson Brown, Warren Zevon, or the Stones.

When I first subscribed to Netlix several years ago I literally watched about 15 Paul Newman movies in a row. It's amazing it lasted that long, but I had to give it up eventually. I went through a foreign phase, then a Western one. It's constantly evolving, my snobbish film tastes are (yes - that was a little Yoda speak for everyone).

I generally get the same exact lunch Monday through Friday - but who the hell am I to pass up the meatball sub every once in a Wednesday?

We also replace our infatuations.

A person, a philosophy, a joke.

A career goal.

A career.

It's a life filled with replacing. Adapt. Don't let yourself become what you've lived your whole life fearing. You can settle for security, but don't sell your potential short. If you can live with your decision, that's cool - but is regret ever worth it?

There's always someone to replace you if you decide to quit progressing.

Scott.

It's Not Heaven - It's Iowa

2009-05-10T21:57:00.002-04:00

When I watch Field of Dreams I get that lump in the throat. You know the one. You recognize the fact that even though you're a dude you get the feeling that you just can't contain the emotions within for much longer. Long before John and Ray Kinsella have their catch I'm weeping like a schoolgirl.

It's a movie for everyone with that pestering little "daddy issue" that wants to rear it's ugly head every once in awhile.

I always loved that baseball was the cornerstone for this story. I'd bet that baseball is still probably the first sport that children are aware of - for no other reason that it's on every day during the summer. 162 days of the year are devoted to the crack of a bat.

In the middle part of the 1990s, when my Cleveland Indians were, by any standard you put forth, one of the premier teams in all of MLB, I would swing the bat in my backyard all by myself, imagining I was Albert Belle (minus the rage) or Jim Thome. What is must feel like to hit a dinger over that 20 foot wall in left field at Jacob's Field...

My preferred fantasy is to hit a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth to dead center field off of Lee Smith, though.

Something that Field of Dreams ties together is this false childish notion that we can all be a starting center fielder, and the reality that fairly ordinary acts of understanding and generosity are what really fulfill our desires.

It's fantasy to believe we can make it to majors, and it's perhaps futile to keep chugging at it. Archie "Moonlight" Graham (Doc, as he has come to forever be known) gave baseball up after a half inning, and when posed with the scenario that only being in a baseball game for five minutes was a tragedy - he countered and said if he had only been a doctor for five minutes, that would be the real tragedy.

Doc's ordinary life as a doctor was plenty fulfilling.

The movies signature line, "It's Iowa," comes after the question: "Is this Heaven?"

Our lives can't be those childish notions. There just aren't enough professional sports organizations for every guy to have a uniform.

Doc got to bat at that field of dreams. His official batting stats would look like this: 0-0 with 1 RBI (sac fly). Before he could get back to the plate he crossed from dreamland back to reality to save a little girl that was choking to death.

It's no tragedy he didn't get a second at-bat, but it would've been a tragedy to watch that little girl die in front of him, especially when all he had to do was whack her on the back a couple of times to get the hot dog dislodged from her air pipe.

There was no impromptu surgery, no panicked CPR. Just a couple whacks on the back.

It was a fairly ordinary act of generosity to give up his childhood fantasy of playing baseball for more than an extra five minutes to utilize his medical training one last time.

It's not heaven. It's our lives. It's the choices we make day in and day out. We make differences in the tiniest of ways. You don't need to be a doctor, a cop, or a fireman to make these differences.

You don't need to move to Iowa and build a baseball field in the middle of nowhere, either.

It will help to watch movies like this every once in a while, however. They help remind you that it's up to you to make sure you don't become disenfranchised with your own existence because you never made it to Fenway, Madison Square Garden, or Lambeau Field.

Because, while our lives may never truly be Heaven - they can be a living hell if you're not careful.

Scott.

These Romantic Dreams In My Head

2009-05-08T20:52:00.006-04:00

***

Walk softly tonight, little stranger

Yeah - into these shadows we're passing through

Talk softly tonight, little angel

You make all my dream worlds come true

***

Boy did I have an annoying, odd morning. Just as all my Friday's start out, I made return phone calls missed throughout the week. I scheduled some appointments, I situated my desk. I literally pushed paper around. Then the read-out on my desk phone had a familiar number to it. I knew it would be best to pick it up, since I had successfully avoided it all week. Sure enough, about a half hour later I was able to put the receiver down - sigh - and get to work getting things in order. My mounting number of tasks that needed to be completed would have to wait.

***

Walk softly tonight, little stranger

Yeah - into these shadows we're passing through

Talk softly tonight, little angel

You make all my dream worlds come true

***

Aggravating. Boy, was this an aggravating morning. I was on the phone several more times, then had to do some silly electronic leg work (emails, file retrieval - thank goodness I'm anal, etc...). Frustration ensued. More directives came their way. Is it just me, or is this just not my day? (Of course it's just me).

My plan for the day had been corrupted and I knew I would indeed need to work on Saturday to make sure everything was in order for next week. I've fallen behind enough. Now all this.

***

Walk softly tonight, little stranger

Yeah - into these shadows we're passing through

Talk softly tonight, little angel

You make all my dream worlds come true

***

I count myself lucky to be surrounded by people that, should I seek them out, will (seemingly) appear to be happy to see me and be interested in what I am up to. Since this is my story, I'll tell you...to be honest, I've been thinking about how much I love listening to music in the summertime.

I like to get in the car and hit the road when and listen to music in the warm months of Ohio. Just drive alone in the summer evenings.

The evening spills into the night and it gets dark. The soft harmonies blending into the cool breezes coming through my open windows.

The breeze is talking softly to me.

***

Walk softly tonight, little stranger

Yeah - into these shadows we're passing through

Talk softly tonight, little angel

You make all my dream worlds come true

***

Discovering that new soft, summertime hit is always thrilling. I'll be tired, looking forward to the weekend morning paper and coffee, but I'll get in my car to enjoy a little more of that musical breeze.

Your mind wanders wonderfully when you're behind the wheel. You forget your place in time and are able to be outside of yourself. You're able to look at where your headlights lose their power in the night time and dammit all if you can't foresee your own future

As the rhythm of the jam or the melody of the mood speeds my mind into one direction, my emotions go another way. Thinking about the fictitious love in these songs spins me into a visceral state of being. Imagining the mark on this world I - like so many dreamers and pretenders before me and amongst me now - crave to make, you start to realize the odds against it all.

***

Walk softly tonight, little stranger

Yeah - into these shadows we're passing through

Talk softly tonight, little angel

You make all my dream worlds come true

***

Attention. What kind of attention is the right attention? I can't answer this question for the life of me. Affection? Desire? Understanding?

Can you live your dream? Or can you only plant the seeds for someone else's, and live out another's?

You pull over into someone's driveway. You've driven long enough. Time to turn back. Even in the warmth of the seasonal temperatures you feel kind of like you've been standing out in the freezing rain...you start questioning your entire existence. Job. Demeanor. Eating habits.

You pull into your parking spot outside your home conflicted. Unsure if the drive was a good idea at all. You kind of forgot about the music on the way home.

***

Walk softly tonight, little stranger

Yeah - into these shadows we're passing through

Talk softly tonight, little angel

You make all my dream worlds come true

***

Restless in bed I start the romantic dreams again. You know what? I can live life like they do way up on the screen.

Why was my mind playing tricks on me when I was on the road?

Because I'm alone. I'm not sharing myself the way I need to.

That's how I'll make my claim. I'll share my thoughts.

That's all that anyone who came before me did. They shared what the hell was on their mind.

Then I sit in front of my computer. And I think of the one that we all love. The imagined, unattainable, one.

I think of the warm memory of the song I just heard, the coolness of the wind rushing in my car window, and the weekend morning paper and coffee waiting for me.

Not before I publish the post, though.

***

Walk softly tonight, little stranger

Yeah - into these shadows we're passing through

Talk softly tonight, little angel

You make all my dream worlds come true

***

Scott.

"Frankie" by Bruce Springsteen was the inspiration for this entry. I didn't even take a drive tonight yet. I also reference "The Promise" at one point.

Recording of "Frankie"

Video of a live performance of "The Promise"

Fade Out

2009-05-06T21:00:00.006-04:00

I'm a big fan of screenplays. I remember being in high school, taking vacations out to California to see a good friend who was himself a screenwriter and has since started up his own production company, and going to this awesome print shop on UCLA's campus. They sold copies of hundreds of different film scripts. I went pretty overboard the first time I was there and bought like five of them. You do the math. At least 100 pages per script, times 5. I live 3000 miles away. I don't want to be lugging around twenty pounds of manuscript with me when I'm connecting flights in Cincinnati's airport (which isn't even in Ohio, but that's another rant for another post).

I'd read them quickly, observing the fluctuations in screenplay structure over the different generations. I'd marvel at how the words to Michael Mann's Heat are just as penetrating as they are onscreen. I'd go more in-depth after a first reading and become puzzled at how in the hell Robert Towne could write something as mesmerizing as Chinatown. I'd read Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous and think to myself, "Maybe one day I'll be able to write the story of my life and make it a pinch as exciting as this man's."

Almost Famous is a great example of what I want to speak about today. I think it's important to continue to utilize the things we claim to hold close to us (forward thinking, for me, is essential to my awkward existence).

If you're not familiar with the story of Almost Famous, it's rather simple. A 15 year old rock & roll enthusiast in the 1970s gets a gig with Rolling Stone and follows a band on tour...and becomes a man along the way.

Albeit he becomes a man in a much cooler way than any dude I've ever met, but someone might want to know about my two-year stretch of never missing The Late Show with David Letterman in my mid-teens, right?

Almost Famous asks the question, "Does anybody remember laughter?" The answer, it turns out, is yes - we do.

I saw a great concert last night.

It was The Killers. I'm a big fan of music, and I like to think I have a wide-ranging appreciation of the craft (with a heavy, centralized focus on 60s/70s "rock & roll"). There's a couple bands I really dig nowadays and I have discovered a few recently that I'm starting to get into (The Gaslight Anthem, Arcade Fire, Kings of Leon to name a few), but I absolutely love The Killers. Their music speaks to me. It speaks to a lot of people based on the crowd reaction last night, but I am truly a great beneficiary of their tunes.

They've got a song that I like to refer to as "my" song. I apply it to my forward thinking.

When You Were Young - The Killers

I don't claim to have the ultimate interpretation of any song or any movie, I only have my own. There is one underlying theme that I absolutely love in this song, though. Here's the line:

"He doesn't look a thing like Jesus, but he talks like a gentleman, like you imagined - when you were young."

This is why I feel like I do about what every great romance story on film has ever conveyed to us. A good scene to picture is the closing moments of Good Will Hunting, when Robin Williams looks at the piece of paper that Matt Damon left him. It's an apology he's asking Williams to convey about bailing on a ridiculously good job right as it's about to start. It closes with the explanation: "I had to go see about a girl."

Will Hunting doesn't look a thing like Jesus - but he gets the girl. He's imperfect in gobs of ways.

Movies are the best at showing us how forward thinking can help us. Take away the Hollywood-ending mumbo jumbo and focus on the underlying message: keep progressing as a societal being. Will Hunting didn't really change who he is, he changed his function in society.

He lived up to his potential. He got the girl.

I'm not trying to suggest Matt Damon and I are on the same playing level or anything here, either, but I got the whole "talks like a gentleman" thing going for me (I like to think).

It's up to me to parlay that into dropping off a note to a friend and saying "sorry I can't hang tonight - I gotta see about a girl."

A great thing about scripts is the feeling of satisfaction when you hammer out those last two words. They all end the same way. Flush left. All caps.

FADE OUT

Scott.

The Happy Idiot

2009-05-03T20:48:00.003-04:00

There are intangibles in life. Lots of them. You know what I mean. Love is an example. Happiness is another. Success too. Certain aspects of success are tangible, but success itself isn't.

A conversation today covered several topics, ranging from the wondrousness of the Cuban cigar being enjoyed, to what Eric Burdon's mark on rock and roll is (he was the front man for The Animals, and had quite a distinguished career aside from that - look him up).

We also talked a lot about forward thinking. Looking ahead. This is not to be confused with progressive politics, or a liberal world outlook. My definition for "forward thinking" is apolitical. Here's what I mean:

Forward thinking is the ability to recognize changing patterns in society and adapt accordingly.

Just by glancing at my background (political science undergrad degree, currently pursing a grad degree in applied politics, employed in the Ohio legislature) should be all the disclaimer anyone needs to realize I will draw a lot of comparisons in anything I write to politics and political figures.

You can win a campaign based on the status quo. You can progress in just about any hierarchical situation, I'd imagine, by not giving one true thought to forward thinking. But you pay too great a cost - many times the direct result of not utilizing forward thinking. By not adapting to modern standards, be it anything from changing folkways or the latest social media device, you fail to modernize in the most basic way. You reject new ideas. You reject understanding.

Ideas and understanding are intangible examples of forward thinking. A new idea can be the difference between getting that extra donation for your campaign or a promotion or more responsibility at your place of business. Failing to understand someone or something can cost you votes or the annual raise.

It can cost you success, happiness, love, or any possible variation of them.

No matter your political philosophy or world outlook, this simple premise of forward thinking should applicable. You don't need to be a rocket scientist to understand it, and you don't need to be a CEO or a public official to make use of it. The working men and women, the down-trodden, the poor, the happy, the richest people in the world can all make use and benefit from it.

Because when it comes down to it, most of us do seem to be stuck in this pattern of angst that seems to eat away at our core. We're "caught between the longing for love and the struggle for the legal tender." There is some sort of fruition we want - simply becoming the CEO probably won't satisfy you completely. The job title doesn't come with happiness.

Forward thinking will not get you there on its own. You work hard and say "when the morning light comes streaming in, I'll get up and do it again."

Love doesn't bring about changes alone. You keep up the work. You use forward thinking.

Unlike the happy idiot in "The Pretender," you don't surrender.

Sure, you "get up and do it again," but you don't lament. And with a new day comes the next opportunity to grab the intangible that keeps us dreaming.

We live in a society filled with happy idiots. The pillared house and the six digit bank account isn't the model of happiness. The shiny car, the gadget, the in-ground pool doesn't satisfy our insatiable needs.

The intangibles do.

Scott.

"The Pretender" by Jackson Browne is the source of the quotations in this article. Listen to it here.

The Little Things

2009-03-22T15:49:00.004-04:00

I haven't had this wonderful of a Sunday in a long time. Slept in slightly late after a good night out with a couple buddies (one of which that was in from out of town). Then I met up with another friend for a nice lunch--actually got to eat outside in the sunshine. With a cup of coffee in hand I popped Sideways into my dvd player and enjoyed the wonders that go along with watching a favorite film for the fifth or sixth time. I've now progressed to Say Anthing, one I've seen dozens of times.

There's a dueling-soliloquy battle in Sideways that I hadn't thought about for a long time. Paul Giamatti's character talks about why he loves pinot so much (it's a complex grape that requires careful nurturing etc...), and Virginia Madsen's character follows up with the tale of why she loves wine (makes her think about all the lives that went into making it, where they are now, what the weather was like when the grapes were picked, etc...). It's incredibly moving, because it's so blatantly clear they are heartbroken individuals describing themselves to each other. They're clearly interested in one another, but must hide behind allegory.

What struck me about this outburst of hidden emotion is that I'm continuously amazed at where I can find solace. Those four minutes in the middle of Sideways, coupled with the open window in my living room with the sun shining in and cool breeze that, rather than enticing me to shut it to keep the chill out, encouraged me to get my blanket to enjoy the contrast in temperatures, reminded me how easy it is to just be happy. It's allowed me to forget about the hectic work week I have staring me down and the school assignment due on Thursday.

It reminded me of Leo McGarry's story in The West Wing where he admits, embarrassingly, to falling off the wagon right before a campaign event. He says:

"I like the little things. The way a glass feels in your hand--a good glass, thick with a heavy base. I love the sound an ice cube makes when you drop it from just the right height. Too high and it'll chip when you drop it...chip the ice and it'll melt too fast in the scotch."

I agree with Leo. I like the little things.

Scott.

Why Obama Must Succeed

2009-02-17T21:06:00.002-05:00

Barack Obama has been President for a hot minute. He's already being built up to fail--not only by the Republicans, either. The media has caught a glimpse of his immortality (who would've thought Obama would have a penchant for nominating dudes who like to make a mistake with their taxes??? In all fairness to the nominees that have gone by the wayside, lots of Americans make mistakes on their taxes...they don't generally amount to a million or so unaccounted-for dollars, but still--they make mistakes).

The latest Newsweek has a headline with a less-than-ideal picture of Pres. Obama and the sub-header: "Promises, Promises." That's the big knock on Obama..."Ok, now you're the guy--deliver us from evil."

Has common sense eluded us all? Let the man address Congress, introduce a budget, and start to lead. He hasn't even had a chance to lead yet! The stimulus package was signed into law today. The website doesn't give enough specifics on where the spending will be...spent??? Let me utilize a personal parallel: I sometimes put off writing a rent check until the latest possible date because I'm out of stamps, envelopes, or just don't want to get the next set of checks loaded into the checkbook--but when I do decide to write the check, I don't need to consult with anyone about what I'm doing. I sign the line and drop it at the post office. I've only got one checking account that the funds are going to come from. If I'm a little concerned about the funds, I might pull up the account balance on the internet. I suppose you can't be too careful. Once the ink dries on the legislation, then we can demand the webpage be updated--see what I'm saying??? It's a process. It's not a sexy one--but it's how it works.

A $787 billion stimulus package, however, has to go through a process or two before checks get sent in the mail. As a matter of fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and hope that all agencies involved in distributing the money take their time and proofread a couple times before they start to follow-through with the plan. Take a weekend, even. The stakes are too damn high when we're throwing digits and dollar signs around like they're pennies.

The point I'm trying to make is that everyone needs to take a deep breath and have a stiff drink or something. Yes the economy is in the crapper and thousands upon thousands of people are losing their jobs every day. Obama doesn't have a magic wand. He has a brain like we all do. Albeit, his probably has better ideas than most, but he's still one of us. He needs to think about stuff before he acts. He thought. He acted. Now we wait and see what happens.

This fictional story arc that is in place for Obama has to stop, though. I, like millions of people across the world, became wrapped up in the "hope" and "change" promised in the Obama campaign. He's just a guy, though. We all fell victim the ploy. News outlets saw an attractive Act One and ran with it (or, more appropriately, the Hero's Call To Action for all you screenwriting junkies out there). Now we have the Act Two Plot Point (reversal of fortune, danger abounds...).

What comes next in a screenplay?

The hero fails.

Of course, there's always Act Three--Hero fights back...a glimmer of hope once again...then CLIMAX! Fade to black. Obama runs again in 2012--SEQUEL!!! We do it all again, just with a different villain (Afghanistan? Iran? Who knows?! The possibilities are endless...we could even get Scarlett Johansson to play a leading role! She's already got Obama's email address!)

This isn't a movie, though. This is real.

"Real" is being reasonable and giving Obama a chance to maneuver before we question his political skills and staying power.

"Real" is not building a guy up to fail just because it's what has always come next.

Scott.

Embracing Social Media

2009-02-14T15:38:00.003-05:00

I guess Facebook is here to stay. I'm ok with that. I'm also ok with Twitter.

In fact, I think Twitter needs to catch on NOW. I work in an institution where keeping up to day with news (local, state, and national) is vital to any sort of success. Twitter's design is perfect for keeping you up to date immediately. There are newsfeeds available from some of the most reputable news sources out (Financial Times, etc...). It's not all work and no play, though--I'm also following ESPN and The Onion.

I'm looking forward to utilizing Twitter in my professional life down the road. If used responsibility, it will serve as a public forum with an easily searchable history.

That's all I really have for right now...hopefully I'll find some more time to jot some thoughts down as they come to me. Thanks!

Scott.

Boss Time

2008-08-19T23:04:00.002-04:00

I have no reason to explain how or why I started listening to Bruce Springsteen. The best I can come up with was a fleeting comment I once heard from someone—I think maybe I heard it from my mother. Bruce Springsteen was mentioned on the radio after a song of his was played, and I can remember someone saying, “He’s overrated.” I carried that with me all through my childhood years. I remember talking with my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Roberts, about how she was at the induction ceremony for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. I had seen some of the concert on tv. I remember Chuck Berry looking really old, but still rocking out to “Johnny Be Goode" (coincidentally/ironically, Springsteen and the E-Street Band were playing backup for him). I asked what her favorite performer from that concert was.

“Bruce Springsteen.”

No hesitation. Didn’t think twice. I, at the grand old age of…10?...said, “I’ve heard he’s overrated.”

“I love him. He’s, ‘The Boss.’”

I had heard that nickname before. I thought it was kind of, you, know self-aggrandizing or egotistical or whatever. So, here I am…I had been swayed to the “he’s overrated” column of people by a random, meaningless comment I had overheard, and now I’m torn after the “he’s The Boss” comment. Could he really be any good?

Keep in mind I’m in fifth grade.

At some point in middle school (grades 6-8), I convinced my mom to get this box set of Springsteen music called Tracks. I didn’t know it was all previously-unreleased material that never made it to a studio album. I was underwhelmed…I recognized that it was a little mature for me at that point. I set it aside, vowing to get back to it.

So I went to the local public library and picked up some of his cds. I stayed away from Born in the USA because I always thought it was such a commercial success that it was probably not one of his better ones. It took years for me to finally get it and listen to it (turns out it’s one of the best selling records in history for a reason). The album that really hit me was the Greatest Hits (I know, that’s pretty lame…). Truth be told, looking at it now, it’s absolutely impossible to have a one disc representation of Springsteen’s best music. Each of his albums is so distinctly different sounding and within each album is a theme that is best realized amongst other songs…

It was on the hits album I discovered “Born to Run.” For some reason when he sang, “Tramps like us,” I kind of felt like I could be a tramp too. I could break out of the awful funk that I was in as an adolescent.

Freshman year of high school. Reunion tour with the E-Street Band. I wanted to go. I found out my neighbors, Jim and Mary, were looking for tickets (Mary more so than Jim). In November of 1999 I saw Bruce and the band for the first time in my life. I only knew about five songs played that night, but even though I couldn’t sing along with the band and the fans I recognized the connection I felt with the crowd and with the music…and yes, with Bruce and the band. That’s why they’re up there on stage making millions of dollars, isn’t it? They’re supposed to make me feel like I’m connecting with them.

Bruce always plays “Born to Run” with the house lights turned up. There’s something about listening to 20,000 people sing that song and being able to see each and every one of them that will just hook you right into the moment. Nearly nine years later, I’m still stuck in that moment.

After that concert I started a manic collection of his music (there’s a lot) and started to commit the lyrics to memory. I’d never forget sitting dead center stage in the 10^th row for the solo Devils & Dust tour. By that time I knew 95% of his catalog (including the boots!) and was able to soak up the wondrousness of that show. At that time I was obsessed with The Ghost of Tom Joad album, and he played probably my favorite of that record, “The Line.” I had struck up a conversation with the gentleman next to me (who was on the verge of seeing his 300^th Springsteen show—it was my 4^th!!!). I asked him if he wanted to hear anything in particular played. He said, “Oh, I’ve seen everything. I’m just here to enjoy the night. What about you?” I told him I wanted to hear, “The Line.” When Springsteen started into that song, I got a nudge from the guy next to me. A wish of mine had been granted.

I think the most gratifying Springsteen experience I’ve ever had (other than hearing ROSIE) was at the last show I was at. I had been talking with two friends that were going to the show with me about previous concerts of Bruce’s I had been to. I told them how the first song I ever heard Springsteen play live, way back in November of 1999, was, “The Ties That Bind.” Because that was the first I had ever experienced live, that song has a special place in my heart. I’d always remember that song as the first of many great experiences.

Springsteen walks onto the stage and shouted, “IS THERE ANYBODY ALIVE OUT THERE???!!!”

He cued the band, and they busted into, “The Ties That Bind.”

Nearly nine years later, I’d have to say I agree with Mrs. Roberts. Springsteen really is, “The Boss.”

***

Scott.

The night is always darkest before the dawn

2008-08-10T23:02:00.009-04:00

I've taken some heat from friends about my views on the latest Christopher Nolan Batman flick, The Dark Knight. One person even accused me of "not knowing what it is like to be a Batman fan."

This is far from true, of course. My love of Batman comes from the Michael Keaton/Jack Nicholson/Tim Burton effort. When I was little I watched it dozens of time, acting the scenes by myself many times in my frequently lonesome childhood. There are a handful of movies that I idolized in my upbringing, and to this day hold them close to my heart. Batman is one of them. No, I didn't read the comics. I didn't read any comics. I did, however, commit that movie to memory. I also metaphorically wept when the vile Val Kilmer and George Clooney and Joel Schumacher flicks came out. They played a part in sinking the Batman franchise to the proverbial depths of hell that encompass the fictional Gotham City.

As far as The Dark Knight goes, allow me to explain my feelings. My relationship with this film is almost as complicated as mine was with Batman Begins--though very different in complexion. The first Christian Bale as Bruce Wayne vehicle initially turned me off and I didn't care for it. Then I watched it several times, slowly warming up to it. I now greatly admire Begins. Some of this is my lack of love for Nolan's films. His best, in my opinion, is The Prestige. It was after I saw that film that I really started to get into Begins.

With The Dark Knight, I was very happy with the result when I saw it first. So much has been made of the Ledger performance that it is hard to deny it it's deserved acclaim. Let me be clear, however: even in that first viewing of The Dark Knight I didn't think it was a masterpiece of cinema. Then I saw it again.

The movie has some problems on many levels (the most glaring being the fund raiser scene where the Joker sends Rachel Dawes plummeting to her death-if-Batman-doesn't-save-her...then we cut to next scene. Totally unresolved). Also, lets not mix words here. This movie has a ton of stuff going on in it. Batman/Bruce Wayne, Joker, Harvey Dent/Two Face, Rachel, Gordon, Mayor...it suffers from its own devices. Nolan has two great movies and fused them together.

This is where I get a lot of grief from people. I've had people say things to me like, "Realistically, the story had to happen this way to make it all work." What? No it didn't. No one A) held a gun to Nolan's head to make it this way and B) there is no Batman Constitution that dictates how this particular portion of the Batman saga will take us. What we have in this world are a mass of opinions--and this is simply mine. I digress...Too much going on! We go to Hong Kong in one silly, ridiculous scene (what the hell was that BS with the plane???????!!!!!!!!)

This movie succeeds on the most basic of levels: the battle between good/evil and, for that matter, sanity/insanity or right/wrong. This Joker is truly one of the great movie characters we may ever see. It's too bad Ledger's death may have been the bigger story (or the story that led to) the deification of this performance. Heath Ledger deserves an Oscar for this role in life or in death--the latter, of course, being what will ultimately happen (perhaps we should take bets on this).

The Harvey Dent side story is a good one. The way that Dent's fall to the dark side is a part of the Joker's plan (who knows how premeditated it was?) is a good one. It works. It happens too quickly, though. I know, I just said too much is happening in the movie--which may even imply it's too long (which it is). Remember what I said about Nolan having to great movies in here? Well, this is where that critique comes into play.

Of course with Ledger's death I may be making a moot point. There's no way it can be stretched to two movies encompassing the same ideas. Dent could've had a different fall from grace, to be sure. It didn't have to come at the hands of the Joker. This hits right back at the stance that, "Realistically, the story had to happen this way to make it all work." It could've worked a different way--it always can. That is why there have been six Batman feature films with three different directors that all use the same damn characters over and over.

Personally, I'm a bigger fan of Bruce Wayne than Batman. The struggle to come to terms with reality is fascinating in my eyes. This is one thing that Knight does extremely well. The interrogation scene with Batman and the Joker is terrific. Batman's rage isn't really Batman's...it's Bruce Wayne's. Joker knows this. Joker exploits it--but Joker can't turn everyone to the dark side like he did with Harvey Dent. Bruce Wayne/Batman accepts the blame for the horrors that transpire in Gotham to save the perceived heroism of Harvey Dent, hence making himself a "dark knight."

As great as the Joker interrogation scene is, the social experiment with the boats is conceited as hell, and it nearly ruins the at times fun, deranged roller coaster we've been on for what seems like decades (two and half hours in reality). Nolan's Batman stories have always preached goodness (at times in strange ways--like during Batman's penchant for literally destroying Gotham--the very city he's trying to save (I'm referring to the scenes where he blows things up, drives on rooftops and crashes cop cars and things like that)). This social experiment, however, crams psychology/philosophy 101 down our throats, with a twist of "hey look at how intellectual this superhero movie is!!!" Could've done without it.

The most common complaint in the movie has been shared by even its devout followers (at least the ones I've spoken with): the sonar stuff. I'm not even going to talk about it because I found it simply ridiculous.

With all this said, the poetry of Nolan's Batman movies is what will suck me in every time. I'm fine if he makes a dozen of these. The scripts are refined and the production quality is top notch. Yes, the story might be about 45 pages too long, but I'm willing to sit through a 150 minute Batman movie way more than a 90 minute movie starring Nicolas Cage and special effects.

The Dark Knight proclaimed that "the night is always darkest before the dawn." Also, we are promised that the dawn is coming. Harvey Dent said that. That character is dead; however, the character's legacy is one of righteousness. Should we take that to mean the dawn will be coming because Batman is willing to become hated for things he didn't do (making Dent the "white knight" of Gotham, despite his fall from grace)? How will Batman save Gotham now? May the dawn never come?

Will the dawn come for me...as a "legitimate" fan of "Batman"? Because it's a little dark out here.

***

Scott.

American Gangster

2008-03-22T15:35:00.001-04:00

American Gangster

Directed by Ridley Scott
Written by Steven Zaillian
Starring Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe
157 minutes

_____________________________________________________________________

This movie fails to answer the most basic question a film can pose: why should I keep watching? The characters, especially Russell Crowe’s hard-nosed Detective Richie Roberts, are simply uninteresting. Roberts is a womanizer and a bad father and cares only about his job—there are no hints, in a two and a half hour movie, as to why he is so dedicated to his profession. He has morals to be sure, but only in regards to how cops should act (he becomes the laughing stock of the entire police force when returns nearly a million dollars that he and his partner found and kept none for himself). Roberts does have an epiphany at one point in the film and gives up on his custody battle over his son with his ex-wife. He does it with absolutely no conviction. He’s apologizing for prolonging the instability of his son’s life by having this battle in the first place, but his demeanor is simply stale—much like his entire existence in the movie.

The plot is simple enough (a storyline that is intriguing by default because of past masterpieces that discuss the ganger lifestyle): Frank Lucas (Washington) is the right-hand-bodyguard to Bumpy Johnson (Clarence Williams III in an un-credited performance). Bumpy dies, so Frank makes a name for himself. The scene that sets the stage for Frank’s rise takes place in a discount superstore where Bumpy laments that they have “cut out the middleman” and buy right from the supplier. Frank buys narcotics directly from the supplier in Thailand to get 100% pure stuff and puts the guys selling the watered-down versions of the drugs out of business. Richie Roberts is immersed in the drug culture and gets a job sponsored by the Feds to go after the big game—the guys like Frank Lucas. Frank buys lots of homes and enlists his brothers and various family members to help run his regime. Roberts assembles a streetwise gang of his own to take down Lucas, and eventually virtually the entire New York City Special Investigation Unit.

Through this journey we get sidetracked by Roberts’ custody battle (which is simply that—a sidetrack that could’ve been dropped), and unresolved disputes between Frank and other gangsters (like Cuba Gooding Jr., who plays a small role as a flashy drug dealer). We also meet the beauty. Frank locks eyes on Miss Puerto Rico (Eva, played by Lymari Nadal) one night in his club (named Small’s). They banter quickly and it left me in shock. It is one of the stupidest onscreen exchanges I’ve ever seen in my life. She asks why the club is named Small’s and not Frank’s. He says “when you own something you can call it what you want.” He says he could call it “Frankie Small’s.” She jokes that it could be “Small’s Frankie.” He laughs. It is scenes like this that easily explain the two and a half hour running time. Nothing is accomplished. We learn nothing. We are bored.

This is a movie that was hyped to rival The Godfather. The only movie to have ever rivaled The Godfather was ITSELF—The Godfather Part 2. Ridley Scott has a knack for tackling these complicated tales and just makes uninteresting, gratuitously violent films that seem to always star Russell Crowe. Those who know me know I have a troubled past with Ridley Scott, but I promise I go into every movie wanting to like it. I wanted to like Gladiator (a film only saved by a great cast). I wanted to like Black Hawk Down (a film not saved by anything—I’ve made a lot of enemies with my dislike for this one). I wanted to like Hannibal (possibly the worst movie ever). I wanted to like this one, and it wasn’t too far off the mark to be honest. The most interesting storyline was brushed under the carpet for the most part: Frank’s dedication to his family. Ruby Dee got an Oscar nomination for her role as Frank’s mother…this is one of those WHY???!!! nominations. Her role was small and lightly regarded by the plot. She seems to have had some influence on Frank at the end of the movie, because he doesn’t go on a killing spree (though he clearly had that option on the table). Why didn’t he go on that killing spree though? Was it because of her? We don’t know.

Denzel delivers his typical power-on-standby performance, but with a twist of murder (Training Day lite) this time. He’s as effective as he always is; he commands the screen. Things go Frank’s way because he has the will and determination, and Denzel delivers that aura. Even at the end of the film, when he is in a jail cell, he gets what he wants from Roberts…a plea deal.

This movie is kind of like a plea deal. Instead of the full story with all the uninteresting stuff kicked to the wayside, we get a reduced sentence of a mediocre typical tale of the rise and fall of a sick, terrible American gangster.

Scott.

Ageless Johnny

2007-11-28T00:32:00.000-05:00

Why don't we call this the second installment of my Johnny Carson tribute. How many installments will their be? Who knows?

Something struck me tonight. Johnny never aged. He was always....Johnny. Jimmy Stewart, once he was up in his years, and he recited that wonderful poem about his late dog--named Bo--had become an old, tired man before our very eyes. He was no longer the spry actor from Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Johnny, ever though he'd been at the helm of the Tonight Show for over two decades at that time, was just as quick as he was in the 60s. He had that quick wit that was just so amazing--and he was so into the moment. He could capitalize on any moment. When he had that little boy, Rohan Varadekar, on his show in 1987, Johnny entertained him with some magic tricks. He made a coin disappear. But the boy knew the coins didn't really disappear. He wanted to see real money vanish. He asked Johnny how that could happen...Johnny replied: "You get married."

Even when Johnny said goodbye to late night television--when he was just sitting there on that stool saying his farewell, you could still see he had more classic moments in him. It was only the previous night when Better Middler and Robin Williams gave two of the greatest talk show appearances of all time. And, lets not forget that for years (even in the months before Johnny passed on), he was sending David Letterman jokes for his monologue.

On Letterman's first show after Johnny died, his entire monologue was jokes that Johnny had sent him recently.

Johnny had nailed one last monologue.

The Funniest Generation

2007-11-10T19:58:00.000-05:00

My first memory of comedy is Johnny Carson. I remember when he was retired and those VHS tapes of his greatest moments from The Tonight Show came out. My dad got them as a Christmas gift I think. Over the span of 15 or 16 or however many years those tapes (and now dvds) have been in my house, I've watched them all hundreds of times. From Ed Ames and the famous hatchet incident to Tiny Tim's wedding to Robin Williams and his hysterical appearance on the second-to-last Johnny Carson-era Tonight Show, I never knew a wit as quick as Johnny's.

Once I got a little older (into my twenties), I discovered Groucho Marx. The best display of Marx's comedy isn't in a feature film, I don't think--it was his hour-long live appearance on The Dick Cavett Show in 1969. Groucho, now way up there in years, never missed an opportunity for a zinger--not once. My favorite moment from that show was when Groucho gave a meddlesome repsonse to one of Dick's questions. Dick didn't let it slide, and pointed out that he had given an "incomplete sentence" of sorts. Groucho replied, "A judge gave me one of those once." A moment later he impersonated this imaginary judge and said, "Don't worry--you'll be back," as if to imply Groucho was merely a hoodlum.

Bob Hope gave a famous 90 minute interview on Dick Cavett's show, and also made for one of my favorite Tonight Show moments. Johnny's guests were (in this order): Hope, Dean Martin, and George Gobel. Gobel was a comedian (he even had his own show), but never reached the iconic level that Hope, Martin, Benny, Berle etc... had reached. So Gobel is sitting there, looks at Bob Hope, Dean Martin, and then Johnny and says, "Boy, Johnny--your show would've been nothing without me!" He added, "You ever get the feeling the world is a tuxedo and you're a pair of brown shoes?" Martin, hysterically, tapped his cigarette ashes into Gobel's beverage without him even knowing it.

My point is this: Groucho, Carson, all those guys, had a wit that is absolutely unmatched. Woody Allen deserves to be grouped in with them, but he represents a generation of changing comedy. The beginnings of SNL--performance comedy, not witty banter. This is why Woody Allen is considered quirky. He came around at a time where neurotic stage comedy seemed like something odd--because those "wild and crazy guys" were making the real killing.

No one today could deliver an un-planned line like Johnny and Groucho. The great comedians of today aren't "joke writers," as they'd probably hate to be labelled such, but they basically are. The Tonight Show was at its best when Johnny was just shooting the shit. That's also why Dick Cavett's show was so great--it was a talk show.

Top Ten Films

2007-01-26T19:40:00.000-05:00

Here is a list of my top ten favorite movies of all-time. This list is absolutely unofficial.

The Apartment, 1960
The Godfather, 1972
Forrest Gump, 1994
Chinatown, 1974
Heat, 1995
JFK, 1991
Badlands, 1973
Rushmore, 1998
In America, 2003
Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Loving and Love the Bomb, 1964

Nearly made the list:

All the President’s Men
Almost Famous
Annie Hall
Apocalypse Now
Casablanca
Dick Tracy
Fargo
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
Ghostbusters
Good Will Hunting
The Graduate
Jerry Maguire
Love in the Afternoon
The Manchurian Candidate
Manhattan
McCabe & Mrs. Miller
Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
Platoon
Raging Bull
Reds
Schindler’s List
Some Like it Hot
Sunset Boulevard
Star Wars (Episodes IV, V, and VI)
That Thing You Do!

Just thought I'd post something on here.

Take it easy.

Scott.

Land of Hope and Dreams

2006-07-01T00:30:00.000-04:00

***

Well, the doctor comes 'round here with his face all bright
And he says, "In a little while you'll be alright."
All he gives is a humbug pill, a dose of dope, and a great big bill
Tell me, How can a poor man stand such times and live?

***

Anger creeps out of my skin when I read the daily newspaper. Not all of it, though. It seems as though I have a reservoir within my soul, where I retain my disgust...

Guantanamo Bay. Haditha. Roadside bomb. Surveillance. Leak. Search. Seizure. Detainee. Crony.

***

He says, "Me and my old school pals had some mighty high times down here.
"And what happened to you poor black folks, well it just ain't fair."
He took a look around and gave a little pep talk, said "I'm with you,"
then he took a little walk
Tell me, How can a poor man stand such times and live?

***

Casual conversations boil the pot of angst within myself. "What newspapers do you read"

"New York Times, Financial Times, and Plain Dealer if I get a chance."

"New York Times? What are you, a communist? That's an anti-American newspaper. They don't know how to protect a country. You read Financial Times, though...Maybe you're ok afterall."

Ignorant fools. The Financial Times doesn't publish a paper without taking a swipe at America. Then again, it doesn't praise many other countries on a regular basis. You can dislike the New York Times all you like; it's still "The Paper of Record." But, seriously--there is no record.

***

There's bodies floatin' on Canal and the levee's gone to Hell
Sister, get me my sixteen gauge and some dry shells
Them who's got got out of town
And them who ain't got left to drown
Tell me, How can a poor man stand such times and live?

***

I've liked reading about how terrific a role model Superman is, now that the new movie has come out. He stands for truth and justice. A glance at the news, and one might assume that "truth" and "justice" are ideas conjured up by elementary school teachers; what do those terms mean to our country's leaders? I believe they understand that they have a meaning of some sort, but certainly not the textbook answers. I imagine that, to them, truth and justice are kind of like quotas: write enough speeding tickets, and you've done a heck of a job. A practical example: raise enough of a stink about how much the Bush Administration pushes the "lie and die" agenda, then go back to Massachusetts as the junior senator. The Bush Administration calls that tactic "cutting and running." Well, lets just say neither of them represent the ideals of Superman. There is no truth to what the Bush Administration says; and no justice comes of it from the lowly Congressmen and Congresswomen. The Supreme Court has rebuked the overreaching arm of extreme power Bush has outstretched with regards to Guantanamo, but lets not forgot how he got the White House.

Superman, in the new movie, tells Lois Lane that the world does in fact need him. He says that he hears people constantly crying out for a savior. My question is this: if people constantly cry for a savior, why is it that the only person that can hear them is Jerry Falwell?

I don't believe there is a savior out there to rescue our political system. I also don't believe a mandate is necessary to correct the atrocities that have befallen our legal/political system that President Bush has been responsible for. What I do believe, is that a new type of leadership is necessary. One with a leader that is familiar to us all in some way. Someone that can mend fences, build new relationships, and try to persuade the nation that some fundamental changes need to be made to take our great nation deep into the twenty-first century, and beyond.

Fiscal responsibility is a thing of the past. Povery is still rampant. We've lost a great Southern city; we need to rebuild it. The Right to Bear Arms is still protected, yet a woman's right to privacy is condemned. Homosexuals are not treated equally. Our basic civil rights are eroding.

***

I got family scattered from Texas all the way to Baltimore
And I ain't got no home in this world no more
Gonna be a judgment that's a fact, a righteous train rollin' down this track
Tell me, ...

***

We don't need a savior, we need passion. A passionate person can fail trying, but what they will have done is planted the necessary seeds for revitalization. A new trend needs to be set--one that is unfettered from religious extremism or conservatism; the new trend needs to be built on a foundation of pragmatism and understanding.

And Truth and Justice. Until then, and even when it is upon us, remember to keep asking yourself...

***

How can a poor man stand such times and live?*

***

Take it easy.

Scott.

* "How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live?" By Blind Alfred Reed originally--updated in 2006 by Bruce Springsteen

Brokeback Mountain

2006-05-28T22:51:00.000-04:00

I didn't want to see this movie. There was one main reason: I wasn't sure that this film had the ability to tell a tale of love between two men without rendering itself fantastical, boring, cheezy, or any combination of the three. It does none of them. It simply allows itself to unfold; and, like any truly great love story, it breaks your heart.

I feel it's unnecessary to recount a plotline to the movie as everyone should know what it's about from all the jokes. But I will anyways. Two cowboys work together on Brokeback Mountain in the summer of 1963 and fall in love. The rest of the film is the tale of their lives. They cope with their urges for one another in one way or another, and meet several times a year to rekindle whatever they have...or had. There's a lot of fighting. Lots of disagreements. Bitterness. A sense of urgency is always conveyed in their meetings--Jake Gyllenhaal's character is much more openly passionate and expresses the desire for them both to leave their families and live together; Heath Ledger's cowboy is much more "old school." He seems torn between his ex-wife, kids, waitress girlfriend, sticking to his strict upbringing, and of course, the other cowboy.

Ang Lee's work behind the camera on Brokeback Mountain is the most enchanting work he's ever done in my opinion. The softness of every frame, and the delicate manner in which he allows the story to unfold is mesmerizing.

The script is top-notch, written by Larry McMurty and Diane Ossana. Each character's personality is contrasted perfectly throughout, and there is no preferential treatment. Each of the major players gets a taste of touching, memorable dialogue with words that are seemingly precisely chosen. Dialogue, of course, is not the chief element used to express the beauty of the story. Ang Lee and Rodrigo Prieto (Director of Photography--perhaps he was robbed of an Oscar?)

Gylenhaal and Ledger are splendid...perfect casting, perhaps? For me, the gem performances are Anne Hathaway and Michelle Williams. (I take back my jab at Williams about her not deserving to be an Oscar contender). Hathaway's performance is particularly intriguing, as she makes the most of her limited screentime by making me feel as if she should've been recognized with an Academy Award nomination over Michelle Williams.

This movie invokes a sense of contentment in the sense that after viewing it, the viewer is satisfied with the result. I believe it has a bigger effect, though. This film should absolutely bring legitimacy to the notion that stories can capture love in any form while being respectful. Yes, adultery is committed by the characters in the movie--but it is not without consequence.

It should be commonplace for love stories to be accepted, don't you think? If the public can embrace a fantastical notion like the ghost of Patrick Swayze communicating with the living Demi Moore, why can't it also accept the love that Jake Gylenhaal and Heath Ledger share with each other? Why are there protests? Why are there refusals to show the movie? Why the backlash?

The annals of history, of course, show that we shouldn't be surprised by such reactions.

History also shows that those who oppose the repressed, those that fight against the foundations of personal freedom, will lose. Martin Luther King Jr. might be gone, but his spirit lives on. We have yet to awake from his dream. There is still much work to be done.

The Da Vinci Code

2006-05-20T00:49:00.000-04:00

Roger Ebert's Review of The Da Vinci Code.

The Da Vinci Code on The Internet Movie Database.

I won't be providing a summary of The Da Vinci Code. If you don't know what it's about, then you're really out of the loop. Furthermore, I recommend reading the book before watching the movie. Doing both will take up about equal amounts of your time.

Lets be frank: this won't be on many top ten lists come year's end. It doesn't have the chops. It appears to have been rushed through the filming process, and Tom Hanks and Audrey Tautou are forced to deliver some of the same stilted, awful dialogue that Dan Brown wrote in his novel.

How could Oscar winner Akiva Goldsman, the screenwriter, do that to us (he won for A Beautiful Mind--which was directed/produced by the same folks as this movie, Ron Howard and Brian Grazer. Paul Bettany also had roles in both movies)? Surely it is obvious that Dan Brown's novel was wildly popular due to its intricate plotline and can't-put-it-down pace, not his dispicable character descriptions, fantastical notions of escape, and aforementined atrocious dialogue. Shame, shame.

That said, Hanks and Tautou are very entertaining throughout. Tom Hanks plays Harvard-elitist very well, and Tautou's drive to understand reverberates from the screen. Paul Bettany's quasi-albino monk (in the book the character is full-blown albino) is interesting, but Ron Howard's flashback explaining Silas' (his name in the movie) origins are even worse than Dan Brown's. The biggest improvement in the movie (from the book) is Alfred Molina's character, Bishop Aringarosa. In the book I was constantly searching for a reason to care about him--Molina provided the answer to that question. Molina is a captivating actor, and his presence brings automatic legitmacy to the character. Ian McKellen glides through the movie in his usual manner (which is not a bad thing--it's a great thing!).

Many of the critical reviews of The Da Vinci Code fixate on the sense of responsibility, not of passion, in telling the story. I couldn't agree more. Passion seems to be void--even in the end during the payoff scene.

The harshness of my criticisms aside, I'd give this movie a recommendation to any filmgoer. It's hard to go wrong with Tom Hanks. It's quite a tale to be told.

BUT REMEMBER--IT'S A WORK OF FICTION!

***

Take it easy.

Scott.

Capote

2006-05-20T00:19:00.000-04:00

I have already named The New World as my choice for best picture of 2005...until now I did not have a choice for second place. My pick for second best film is Capote. A quick note about the year 2005: The best two movies are so much better than any of the other movies that does give me a bit of hope for the future. The mediocrity that has engulfed American cinema in the past ten years has been devastating to me. I used to revere filmmakers and wait impatiently to see new films. Now I dread it. The New World and Capote represent the best films of that timespan.

***

Here is Roger Ebert's summary of Capote:

On Nov. 16, 1959, Truman Capote noticed a news item about four members of a Kansas farm family who were shotgunned to death. He telephoned William Shawn, editor of The New Yorker, wondering if Shawn would be interested in an article about the murders. Later in his life, Capote said that if he had known what would happen as a result of this impulse, he would not have stopped in Holcomb, Kan., but would have kept right on going "like a bat out of hell."

At first Capote thought the story would be about how a rural community was dealing with the tragedy. "I don't care one way or the other if you catch who did this," he tells an agent from the Kansas Bureau of Investigation. Then two drifters, Perry Smith and Richard Hickock, are arrested and charged with the crime. As Capote gets to know them, he's consumed by a story that would make him rich and famous, and destroy him. His "non-fiction novel," In Cold Blood, became a best seller and inspired a movie, but Capote was emotionally devastated by the experience and it hastened his death.

***

That very quickly summarizes what happens in the movie...but so much more is really going on. Truman's friends are Harper Lee (she wrote To Kill a Mockingbird...perhaps the greatest piece of American literature) and the rest of New York's high-society members. In passing Truman Capote mentions his relationships with Humphrey Bogart and John Huston.

Truman's alcoholism isn't kept from the story--at one point he mixes what was most likely gin with a snack (which is also the same food that he fed the murderer Perry Smith that he becomes attached to, and I am pretty sure it was baby food). This is vital to showing Truman's downward spiral. His wonderfully hilarious stories and one-liners become fewer and fewer, and towards the end they are no longer there. Truman becomes a pathetic human being.

What is so magnificent about this film is that it doesn't rush itself. This is through the brilliant maneuvering of Bennett Miller (the director, and believe it or not, his first major movie). I'm not sure if a more experienced director would have the capability of allowing the film to evolve at such a seemingly slow pace. Perhaps Martin Scorsese would allow such slowness...but if we were to judge that based on the last twenty years of his movies we'd be watching a three and a half hour movie (think Casino, Gangs of New York, The Aviator). That would've doomed this story. Drawing out the horrific details of the murders in Kansas or Capote's own destruction would've destroyed the brilliance of Miller's tact. The brutality comes in very short, sudden bursts that shocks the viewer slightly, but he doesn't depend on that. He doesn't have to. Bruce Greenwood, Chris Cooper, Catherine Keener, and Philip Seymour Hoffman are his to use as the crutches of the film.

This film has arguably the best ensemble cast of 2005. Seymour Hoffman's Oscar appears to be deserved, and his transformation from man-of-the-town to being brilliantly-doomed is told splendidly through his penchant for fully-converting himself into the character. Magnificent performance.

***

Take it easy.

Scott.

Thank you for Smoking

2006-04-23T00:18:00.000-04:00

Roger Ebert's review of Thank you for Smoking

Internet Movie Database page of Thank you for Smoking

Ebert's summary of the movie:

***

Thank You for Smoking targets the pro-smoking lobby with a dark appreciation of human nature. It stars Aaron Eckhart as Nick Naylor, a spokesman for the Academy of Tobacco Studies. We meet him on "The Joan Lunden Show," sitting next to bald-headed little Robin, a 15-year-old boy who is dying of cancer, "but has stopped smoking." Nick rises smoothly to the challenge: "It's in our best interests to keep Robin alive and smoking," he explains. "The anti-smoking people want Robin to die."

Nick Naylor is a pleasant, good-looking career lobbyist who is divorced, loves his son Joey (Cameron Bright) and speaks to the kid's class on career day. "Please don't ruin my childhood," Joey pleads, but his dad cross-examines a little girl whose mother says cigarettes can kill you: "Is your mother a doctor?" Once a week he dines with the MOD Squad, whose other members are alcohol lobbyist Polly Bailey (Maria Bello) and firearms lobbyist Bobby Jay Bliss (David Koechner). They argue over which of their products kills the most people. The initials MOD stand for "Merchants of Death."

***

That just about tells you all that you need to know. Thank you for Smoking walks a thin line between biting satire and full-fledged, foul-mouthed, raucous comedy. Jason Reitman (director) deftly combines the two with care, not skimping on the laughs and by no means holding back the script's caricature of the devilishness of tobacco lobbyists (and hardcore lobbying in general, for that matter).

It's fitting that this is my follow-up review of a movie in the aftermath of my concern for V for Vendetta's affect on the yet-t0-be-corrupted youth of America. This film takes itself seriously. It's geared towards adults, albeit the film is crammed full with immature insults and situations, but it clearly shows the consequences of leading an irresponsible life of questionable morals. You are not a freedom fighter, a martyr, or a quasi-superhero (as "V" is portrayed in V for Vendetta) for leading such a life, you are a product of your own doings. The main character, Nick, gets a death threat towards the middle of the movie. The characters in the movie have a good time razzing Nick about the death threats, and Nick's own approach to dealing with the threat only gives them more insult-ammunition, but the script treats it very seriously. It's a serious thing. V for Vendetta uses overly violent (blood spurting, knives slashing flesh) actions scenes simply to titilate. What's wrong with that? Other than the fact I personally consider such gore-for-the-sake-of-gore to be uninteresting, unnecessary, and deplorable, nothing is the matter (I think I may have just said three things that [almost, in this context] mean the same thing...sorry, had to get a West Wing reference in there). I feel, and have always felt, that mainstream, ultra-popular filmmakers should take the responsibility to consider their target audience when filming and editing their movies. I'm not saying censor, don't get me wrong. The filmmakers should think about ways to film their action scenes that leave more to the imagination. That doesn't even entail removing blood or gore. I just hate when action scenes, the climax of V for Vendetta is the best example, are presented in an arcade-game fashion, where it seems cool to murder. That is the wrong message to send, and those people that disagree with me and feel that V for Vendetta doesn't present itself like that, I have this to say to you: you have fallen victim to Hollywood's ploy--it was nice knowing you. Have fun watching American Idol and wishing Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey will get back together.

***

Take it easy.

Scott.

V for Vendetta

2006-04-20T00:22:00.000-04:00

I saw this movie a couple of weeks ago, but I wanted to comment on it. To read the foremost authority (as I see it) in film reviews, check out Roger Ebert's review of V for Vendetta at Rogerebert.com

Ebert is much kinder to the movie than I am.

Firstly: acting is top-notch. The presentation of the movie also of the highest quality. The screenplay is as fleshed-out and fluid as one could hope for.

But it's horrible.

Out of laziness I'm going to copy Ebert's summary of the film:

"It is the year 2020. A virus runs wild in the world, most Americans are dead, and Britain is ruled by a fascist dictator who promises security but not freedom. One man stands against him, the man named V, who moves through London like a wraith despite the desperate efforts of the police. He wears a mask showing the face of Guy Fawkes, who in 1605 tried to blow up the houses of Parliament. On Nov. 5, the eve of Guy Fawkes Day, British schoolchildren for centuries have started bonfires to burn Fawkes in effigy. On this eve in 2020, V saves a young TV reporter named Evey from rape at the hands of the police, forces her to join him, and makes a busy night of it by blowing up the Old Bailey courtrooms.

V for Vendetta will follow his exploits for the next 12 months, until the night when he has vowed to strike a crushing blow against the dictatorship. We see a police state that hold citizens in an iron grip and yet is humiliated by a single man who seems impervious. The state tries to suppress knowledge of his deeds -- to spin a plausible explanation for the destruction of the Old Bailey, for example. But V commandeers the national television network to claim authorship of his deed."

Ebert poses the question: is V a freedom fighter or a terrorist?

Trick question.

This movie sends a dangerous message. The writers of this movie are responsible for The Matrix movies (the director of the film was, up until V for Vendetta, a major player as for as Assistant Directors go). The movie is heavy on action and violence--in essence it's a videogame version of a (much) different reality. V kills a lot of people. He blows a lot of stuff up. At the end, he does a lot more of both. Natalie Portman's character buys it hook, line, and sinker.

Within the (sole) context of the story of the film, V's goals are (somewhat) laudable. But I think it's fair to say that that is not how it's presented to the viewer. The Wachowski brothers are not in the business of creating realistic societies in their films; however, they try to in this one. This is a statement for them. They're upset at Western culture, perhaps America specifically. I hate Bush as much as the next guy, but he's not truly a fascist dictator (yet) and the level of individual freedoms that Americans have (and almost all the other advanced industrial nations across the West) will NEVER in our lifetime sink as low as they do in V for Vendetta (and this movie takes place in 2020). Our media is corrupt, but they are free to present the news in the manner in which they choose. Our media can take sides.

V says "what they [the government] did to me was monstrous."
Evey (Portman's character) responds with "and they created a monster."

This exemplifies my dislike for the movie--the monstrocity of V is meant to be perceived as good. Like I said before, within the sole context of the film's story V might not be all that bad, but he is a murderer and terrorist in our society. Educated viewers, of course, understand this, but I'm a firm believer that minds (especially young ones) can be molded by theater. Certainly, they're desensitized. It is not always easy to discern the difference between a fake world and the real one (personally, I've wished for years that our president was actually Josiah Barlet, the fictional character from The West Wing). We are capable of reasoning, of course. Even the dumbest ones can reason. But no one is truly immune to brainwashing, I don't think.

Films like V for Vendetta should never be censored, of course. I do feel, however, that filmmakers owe it to the public to challenge their minds more. Violent movies are popular--this cannot be denied. It was only 12 years ago that Forrest Gump was the biggest movie of the year (well, it shared that title with Pulp Fiction, which very much fits my characterization of V for Vendetta in the dangerous-message-to-send-our-youth category--only Pulp Fiction is a VASTLY better movie than V for Vendetta). Forrest Gump was about war, protest, violence, and sex. But it had more heart than any movie I've seen that was made in the last thirty years (at least). And that still holds true, and it's a movie you shouldn't be concerned about showing to your teenager. It's a movie they should see.

Remember what Forrest says:

"You know, it's funny what a young man recollects? 'Cause I don't remember bein' born. I don't recall what I got for my first Christmas, and I don't know when I went on my first outdoor picnic. But I do remember the first time I heard the sweetest voice in the wide world."

You can rest assured that the voice Forrest heard didn't belong to a monster that wore a white mask and calls himself "V."

It was Jenny--and we all know how their story turned out.

***

Take it easy.

Scott.

Countdown to a Meltdown

2006-04-07T00:53:00.000-04:00

It's been great getting some new people to comment on my posts--keep it up everyone!

Nothing major to post right now, except a link to one of the best pieces of writing I've ever read. My friend Jim sent me the link to this article from the July/August Atlantic Monthly entitled, "Countdown to a Meltdown" by James Fallows.

It's an incredible look into our future, from the perspective of a campaign strategist who is sending a memo to the leading 2016 presidential candidate. The memo--which is Fallows' article--outlines what has happened to America since George W. Bush left office (and even goes back as far as LBJ and Nixon to explain a few things). It's a biting commentary on our excesses of the past decades.

Take it easy.

Scott.

Seeds

2006-03-31T23:24:00.000-05:00

Well, a great black river a man had found
So they put all his money in a hole in the ground
And sent a big steel arm driving down, down, down
Man, now I live on the streets of Houston town

***

Senator Jeff Cash walked along the bustling sidewalk in front of the Capitol building. He had to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun's glare. He side-stepped as a jogger approached him, accidentally bumping into a young mother pushing a baby stroller. Before Cash could react, the mother was well ahead of him. For the first time in years...decades maybe...Cash was saddened. He hadn't intentionally bumped into the woman. Yet she was off. Was she angry with him? The senator, realizing he had stopped dead in his tracks, moved off to the side to avoid causing another incident. He leaned against a low-lying brick wall.

***

Packed up my wide and kids when winter came along
And we headed down South with just spit and a song
But they said, "Sorry son. It's gone, gone, gone."

***

That morning, as Jeff Cash woke up he started his usual pattern. Shave. Shower. Dress. No breakfast. Coffee. Daily newspapers. Driver picked him up. Went to his office. The only strikingly different thing about this day was that he was about to be censured by his colleagues in the United States Senate. He cleared his schedule for the day, and wrote a public response in private. This would be the first public statement that he would write on his own for the entire four years he had been serving in Congress. No aides. No special-interest group's notes. Just himself--and what heart he had left.

***

Well there's men hunkered down by the railroad tracks
The Elkhorn Special blowin' my hair back
Tents pitched on the highway in the dirty moonlight
And I don't know where I'm gonna sleep tonight

***

Senator Cash's primary committee assignment was Appropriations. Perhaps the only other committee assignment that would've truly fit his last name would be Finance--but Cash wanted Appropriations. Appropriations he got.

Elected from the state of Nevada, he represented the fine people of Las Vegas and Reno. Having a vote in Appropriations made it easier to appease the people in his constituency, as they were chiefly concerned with cash. Cash they wanted; Cash they got. They saw plenty of public assistance come their way in the four years Cash served in the Senate.

The official statement of censure from the Senate involved "questionable ethics" used to guarantee the state of Nevada additional federal funds. That only scratched the surface.

***

Parked in the lumberyard freezin' our asses off
My kids in the backseat, got a graveyard cough
I'm sleeping up in front with my wife
Billy club tappin' on the windshield in the middle of the night
Says, "Move along man, move along."

***

Cash had to cut a deal to only get the censure. It was easily justifiable, he reasoned with himself. All he had to do was arrange for money to be transferred to several different bank accounts, all of which belonged to different senators of varying levels of influence. And those bank accounts were found all over the world. Some in far-away places where the ocean water was clear to the bottom. Some in just your average local bank. Other accounts were found in "fronts," or institutions that exist only in the information super-highway.

It was on his way to the Capitol the morning of his censure that he realized what he had become. He would spend the rest of his life trying to pinpoint the trigger that brought about the change...was it the face of an innocent child he saw walking down the street? The headline of a newspaper that was lying next to him?

The look of his face in the reflection of the window?

He thought back to the first injustice he took part in. The first step towards the darkside. It took place in the back of a limousine.

***

Well, big limousine all shiny and black
You dont look ahead and you don't look back
How many times can you get up after you been hit?
Well, I swear if I could spare the spit
I'd lay one on your shiny chrome
And send you on your way back home

***

Twenty years ago, Cash sat staring at himself in the reflection of the window in the limousine of which he sat. The limo belonged to the senior senator of that time for the state of Nevada. Cash has just recently completed his Master's degree, and landed a job as personal aide to the senator. The senator sat next to him, and handed him a dossier, breaking his train of thought. "In the file you'll find the address of Miguel Rodriguez. Deliver all of this info to the INS."

Cash nodded. "He being deported?"

"Yes, on grounds he entered the country illegally."

"I would have to agree with that, sir. You enter here illegally, and you're caught--you go back."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Cash."

Cash looked over the rest of the file as the limo glided through the streets. He noticed something. Miguel Rodriguez worked a landscaping job. He was a hand at the senator's house.

"This guy worked for you, Senator?"

The senator shifted in his seat, annoyed at the question. He thought for a moment before answering. "Yes he did."

"You were employing an illegal immigrant, sir?" Cash's youth and inexperience allowed him the ability to ask the question without considering the ramifications. Such a pointed question could surely result in the firing of a new aide. Cash realized this as he said it--but it was too late.

"Mr. Rodriguez did something he shouldn't have done," the senator started. "His shift was over. The outdoor latrine was out of order, so he had to come inside to use my washroom. He saw something he shouldn't have."

Cash didn't say anything. How could this be happening? Had Rodriguez seen the senator do something illegal? Destroying documents? Having sex with someone other than his wife? What could it have been. The senator turned to Cash, and they made direct eye contact. Cash looked somewhat frightened, but the senator wasn't threatening him. The senator was calm.

"Cash, this is your test. Rodriguez is being sent away for justifiable reasons. I will not tell you anything else. You can do one of two things: Meet with the INS agents and have them deliver the deportation notice, or leave this job at once. We work on a system of trust. Rodriguez is not to be trusted."

Cash believed in the senator. He had campaigned for him. He was not about to violate this man's...trust, as he called it.

As Cash waited for the INS agents to see him, he read the file of Miguel Rodriguez--start to finish. Nothing spectacular. Just a working-class type of guy. No wife. No kids. Not in America anyways. If he had a family, maybe he would reunite with them when he was shipped home. Unless they were here illegally too. Cash sighed to himself. That's the price they pay, he thought.

***

So if you're gonna leave your town where the north wind blow
To go on down where that sweet soda river flow
Well you better think twice on it, Jack
You're better off buying a shotgun dead off the rack

***

Miguel Rodriguez was never deported. He resisted. He fled the agents, only to get caught by local authorities. There was a stand-off, and it resulted in Rodriguez being shot down in a flurry of bullets. Cash would never forget the report he saw on the evening news. He was sitting in his dumpy little apartment, exhausted from a day of kissing up to local hot shots. He was looking forward to getting back to D.C. the next day.

This is how the news report went: "Miguel Rodriguez, 34, was shot down by the police in a tense stand-off this afternoon. It is not clear yet what the motive for Rodriguez's hostility was. Rodriguez had a clean reputation in his community, representing a noteworthy class of lifelong Hispanic U.S. citizens helping new immigrants study to become legal residents..."

***

You ain't gonna find nothin' down here friend
Except seeds blowin' up the highway in the south wind
Movin' on, movin on. It's gone. It's all gone...

***

Senator Cash's brief address to the press:

"My actions speak for themselves. I have wronged many. We live in dark times, and I have contributed to them. I have exemplified the darkness of our political system, and the decaying moral values of society. I got elected with my 'quick wit' and a name to fit all my wants and desires: Cash. Those wants and desires are uniform, all down the line. The poor need it, the rich want more of it. Cash doesn't grow on trees--but it's beneath the earth's surface and simply needs to be pumped out and refined. It exists in dark alleyways and on the most exotic beaches of the world--where a bank is only a short drive away. The seeds of corruption have been sown. It is up to a new world order to plant new seeds. Seeds free of cash...and of Cash."

***

Take it easy.

Scott.

p.s. This was a work of fiction. The lyrics intertwined with the story were taken from the song entitled, "Seeds," by Bruce Springsteen.

A Radio Report, A Helicopter, And A Guy In A Rowboat

2006-03-22T23:33:00.000-05:00

Out of fear of going several days without a post, I thought I'd post my two favorite quotes from The West Wing. They might stimulate discussion, or nothing more than a nod of appreciation.

Or nothing at all.

From the first season, an episode entitled "Take This Sabbath Day" featured President Bartlet in a quandry: whether or not to commute a death penalty sentence. He ends up meeting in the Oval Office with a priest from his youth, played by Karl Malden. I submit that Malden's performance in this episode is on my shortlist of greatest guest-appearances of any show ever...but that's just my opinion. Here is the quote, as Malden delivered it:

***

You remind me of the man who lived by the river. He heard a radio report that the river was gonna rush up and flood the town, and that all the residents should evacuate their homes. But the man said, “I’m religious. I pray. God loves me. God will save me.” The waters rose up. A guy in a rowboat came along and shouted, “Hey, you in there! The town is flooding! Let me take you to safety!” The man shouted back, “I’m religious. I pray. God loves me, God will save me.” A helicopter was hovering overhead, and a guy with a megaphone shouted, “Hey, you! You down there! The town is flooding! Let me drop this ladder and I’ll take you to safety!” The man shouted that he was religious, he prayed, God loved him, and that God would take him to safety. Well, the man drowned. Standing at the gates of St. Peter, he demanded an audience with God. “Lord,” he said, “I’m a religious man. I pray. I thought you loved me. Why did this happen?” God said, “I sent you a radio report, a helicopter, and a guy in a rowboat. What the hell are you doing here?”

***

The second quote will be from the second season, in an episode entitled, "Noel." Josh Lyman's character is in a deep, deep funk. He's suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder (he had been shot at the end of the first season, in the same attack where the president himself was shot). Josh is virtually held captive with Dr. Stanley Keyworth (wonderfully played by Adam Arkin), and John eventually confronts his problems.

As he leaves his session with Dr. Keyworth, Leo McGarry, Josh's boss, is waiting for him. He had been waiting for hours. Josh wants to know why Leo would hang around for him for so long. This is Leo's response:

***

This guy's walking down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep he can't get out. A doctor passes by, and the guy shouts up, "Hey, you, can you help me out?" The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a priest comes along, and the guy shouts up, "Father, I'm down in this hole. Can you help me out?" The priest writes a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a friend walks by. "Hey, Joe, it's me. Can you help me out?" And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, "Are you nuts? Now we're both down here." The friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before - and I know the way out."

***

Take it easy.

Scott.

An Early Return

2006-03-17T19:47:00.000-05:00

Lucas, as played by Peter Boyle, approaches Bill McKay, as played by Robert Redford, in the 1972 political saga The Candidate and has an interesting job offer for him:

Be the Democratic Party's nominee for the the United States Senate in the state of California. There is, however, a catch. Two words are used to coax McKay into entering the race. Lucas writes those two words on the inside cover of a matchbook and tosses it to McKay.

***

There have been several terrific films over the years that have featured a plot driven by politics. To make a general disclaimer, thousands and thousands of films deal with politics. The Godfather is extremely political. But I am not interested in discussing The Godfather in this post. I only want to talk about the political films...here's a shortlist of examples: All The President's Men, Wag the Dog, The Contender, and Good Night, and Good Luck.

The movies I just listed are exemplary in every way. They are the cream of the crop. I'd like to discuss some of the other great ones.

First off, there are far to many to talk about all of them. I want to make sure I get the main ones out of the way, and say a few words about each.

JFK and Nixon are placed in the same category, as they were both Oliver Stone vehicles. This was Stone at his best, analyzing possibly the two greatest conspiracies of American history, while simultaneously injecting enough questionable conclusions to jumpstart heated discussions that still go on today. From a cinematic standpoint, both of these films are unmatched in scope. They attempt to (and succeed) in splicing together real footage with tediously choreographed and scripted cinematic footage and create editing masterpieces. The dizzying array before the viewer is intentional, and I dare you to sit through either of these films in a single sitting.

JFK is my pick for the best film of the 1990s. With a cast as large as even the largest of Robert Altman's films, each actor is a piece of a puzzle. This puzzle is so complex and full of surprises that it was forced to create a fictional character--and one of the most heart-pumping scenes (in my opinion) ever--known simply as X (perhaps an homage to Deep Throat?). Donald Sutherland plays "X."

JFK can attribute much of its success, as I see it, to completely removing itself from using the White House. It focuses on Jim Garrison's (incredibly obsessive) desire to disprove the Warren Commission's report and look into JFK's assasination. The movie spends most of its time in Louisiana.

Sticking with John Kennedy (and Kevin Costner for that matter), Thirteen Days is a phenomenal film, discussing the Cuban Missile Crisis of October 1962. Costner was cast as chief Kennedy advisor Kenny O'Donnell, Steven Culp plays Bobby Kennedy (the best Bobby Kennedy film has ever seen), and Bruce Greenwood plays JFK to a T. This film is very layered, even going to the minute aspects of Kennedy: Greenwood plays Kennedy as a guy who is in constant back pain (which he was, among other devastating physical ailments) and very often conflicted between his views, Bobby's views, and the rest of the cabinent's views...and each member thought differently. The crafting of the story within the film is great because it doesn't rush itself. It didn't fall into the must-get-this-story-told-in-90-minutes routine. It introduces and fleshes out the main players, and really shows the devastating potential consequences of what could've happened had this situation not ended as it did. Like I mentioned, this film is just under 3 hours I think, so it's hard to get through in one sitting. It took me three tries, but it's well worth it.

Switching gears, lets talk about The American President. This movie works because it presents itself under the guise of a romance story. It's a fantastical film, really. The president is a widow (not the fantastical part), and he falls in love with a lobbyist (approaching fantastical). This film does owe much of its success to Aaron Sorkin, the screenwriter (you will recognize Sorkin's work from The West Wing. He was the series creator and wrote virtually every episode of the show for the first four seasons). Also, Michael J. Fox was in it. It was hard to go wrong with Fox in the mid-1990s. He had reclaimed his (deserved) role as a beloved American icon. In addition to Fox, this film was surrounded with great character actors: John Mahoney, Anna Deveare Smith, and the underrated David Paymer to name three.

1998 saw two great satirical looks at the political process, with Primary Colors and Bulworth. Firstly, Primary Colors was timely in that it had Travolta in a virtual clone of Bill Clinton (the current president at the time) and addressed many of the issues that was (trying to) bring the Clinton presidency down (sexual promiscuity to name the key one). Bulworth was Warren Beatty's best peformance ever, in my opinion. It's so filled with biting satire that rings 100% true with the current political climate that I can't understand why this film wasn't as oogled over as Wag the Dog. Beatty, an unabashed liberal, co-wrote and directed the film (in addition to being the star an co-producer) was making his statement. Greed runs the process. This film also succeeds in a similar way as The American President; this one is wrapped up in the guise of a coming-of-age story.

I'm going to skip over a few and get right to two of the big ones: The Manchurian Candidate (the original, not the crap Denzel Washington version) and Dr. Strangelove.

First of all, I would go so far as to say that these two movies represent the best of cinema. The Manchurian Candidate was ahead of its time, and unfortunately fell under the spell of Frank Sinatra's own censorship, as he wouldn't allow the film to be distributed at all. The world went years without seeing this movie. We were forced to rely on memory. It wasn't until his death, I believe, that it was rereleased. There is not much to laugh at in this movie. It's dark. It's disturbing. We see American soldiers brainwashed into killing other American soldiers. We see assasinations. We see dimentia. We see Frank Sinatra's character inability to cope with what he's seen--and ultimately not able prevent a disaster.

We see the Queen of Diamonds.

Dr. Strangelove is damn funny. One of the funniest movies of all time. This movie is home to quotes like these:

"Mr. President, I'm not saying we wouldn't get our hair mussed. But I do say no more than ten to twenty million killed, tops. Uh, depending on the breaks."

"Survival kit contents check. In them you'll find: one forty-five caliber automatic; two boxes of ammunition; four days' concentrated emergency rations; one drug issue containing antibiotics, morphine, vitamin pills, pep pills, sleeping pills, tranquilizer pills; one miniature combination Russian phrase book and Bible; one hundred dollars in rubles; one hundred dollars in gold; nine packs of chewing gum; one issue of prophylactics; three lipsticks; three pair of nylon stockings. Shoot, a fella' could have a pretty good weekend in Vegas with all that stuff."

"Gentlemen, you can't fight in here! This is the War Room." (my personal favorite)

Finally, this is how the conversation between the American president and the Russian leader starts:

"Hello?... Ah... I can't hear too well. Do you suppose you could turn the music down just a little?... Oh, that's much better... yeah... huh... yes... Fine, I can hear you now, Dmitri... Clear and plain and coming through fine... I'm coming through fine, too, eh?... Good, then... well, then, as you say, we're both coming through fine... Good... Well, it's good that you're fine and... and I'm fine... I agree with you, it's great to be fine..."

Basically, the movies ends with the end of civilization as we know it. The Doomsday device cannot be recalled, and I think virtually every nuclear bomb in the world is deployed. At it's heart, it's a scathing look at the evils of Cold War political mentality.

***

It's the night before the big election. McKay is understandably nervous. He is getting ready to join his wife in bed for a night of presumed sleeplessness. He empties his pockets onto a dresser. He comes across the matchbook that Lucas had tossed to him with the writing on it. He opens it and reads it to himself, and laughs quietly. His wife asks him what he's got in his hands.

"An early return," he replies. He goes to bed.

The matchbook reads, "You Lose."

***

Take it easy.

Scott.

p.s. McKay wins

Post-Oscar's Post

2006-03-05T23:56:00.000-05:00

If I keep this blog going for another year, be sure that I will write a "Post-Oscar's Post." I love reflecting on the ceremony and thinking about the winners--whether they were the best choices or not. My choices are simply mine; and I was let-down this year. Oh, well.

As for the show itself, I can say without a doubt it was best I've ever witnessed. The only moments I was bored during were the moments I'm bored at automatically--the performances of "Best Original Song." They might be good songs, but they really make the show drag. I especially didn't like the one that won, the rap song about it being hard out there for a pimp. Bad song. Awful. Great acceptance speech, haha! Actually, it was a horrible speech and I wish I hadn't sat through it, but Jon Stewart's cracks made it well worth it.

Jon Stewart had a slow beginning to his monologue, but the opening sequence he put together with all of the past hosts was, I believe, the funniest/best start to the show EVER. Hysterical. Stewart's best cracks came after acceptance speeches (as is normally the case, allowing for the quick wit of the host and the backstage staff of writers to take center stage), notably after the rap guys won their award and after one of the montages of the night, and Stewart proclaimed a shortage of clips for further montages.

My vote for best speech of the night is, predictably, George Clooney. He's a funny guy. Gotta give it up for him. I also LOVED Reese Witherspoon's speech. Hillary Swank take note: if you win again, follow Reese's model: be ADORABLE.

I was really against Crash winning, as I feel it's a subpar film (I'd give it a rating of 3.5-4/5), but I would absolutely love to make a trade: Crash keeps Best Picture but gives up the screenplay award (and give it to ANYONE ELSE) but give it the original song award (because what the hell does that one even count for?) The award I will absolutely not tolerate though is Crash winning best film editing. I have also believed that Film Editing is the single most important category in the Oscar's, and Crash shouldn't have been close to be in the running. Lots of movies do slow-motion stuff. Nothing was impressive to me in that film. I'd give the award to Munich or The Constant Gardner.

Here's how I'd like to send off the Oscar's of 2006: My favorite movie quotes from the movies of this or previous years from this year's nominees.

Traffic (came out in 2000, Stephen Gaghan wrote it, whom was nominated this year)

"You know, when they forced Khruschev out, he sat down and wrote two letters to his successor. He said, 'When you get yourself into a situation you can't get out of, open the first letter, and you'll be safe. When you get yourself into another situation you can't get out of, open the second letter.' Soon enough, he gets into a tight situation, and he opens the first letter. It says, 'Blame it all on me.' So he blames it all on the old guy, and it worked like a charm. When he got himself into a second situation, he opened the second letter. It said, 'Sit down, and write two letters.'"

Gladiator (also came out in 2000, Joaquin Phoenix co-starred in it, he was nominated this year)

"My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next."

Sideways (came out in 2004, Paul Giamatti starred in it, he was nominated this year)

"No, if anyone orders Merlot, I'm leaving. I am NOT drinking any f-----g Merlot!"

Fargo (came out in 1996, Frances McDormand starred in it, she was nominated this year)

"Prowler needs a jump."

That Thing You Do! (Also came out in 1996, Charlize Theron had a bit part in it, she was nominated this year)

"Oh, I'm not here with these fellas. I've got a pig in competition over at the livestock pavilion, and I am going to win that blue ribbon!

Forrest Gump (came out in 1994, Eric Roth wrote the screenplay, he was nominated this year)

"There was Dallas, from Phoenix; Cleveland, he was from Detroit; and Tex... well, I don't remember where Tex come from."

The Insider (came out in 1999, Eric Roth wrote the screenplay, he was nominated this year)

"You pay me to go get guys like Wigand, to draw him out. To get him to trust us, to get him to go on television. I do. I deliver him. He sits. He talks. He violates his own f-----g confidentiality agreement. And he's only the key witness in the biggest public health reform issue, maybe the biggest, most-expensive corporate-malfeasance case in U.S. history. And Jeffrey Wigand, who's out on a limb, does he go on television and tell the truth? Yes. Is it newsworthy? Yes. Are we gonna air it? Of course not. Why? Because he's not telling the truth? No. Because he is telling the truth. That's why we're not going to air it. And the more truth he tells, the worse it gets!

Munich (nominated this year in 5 categories)

"I need receipts."

Broadway Danny Rose (came out in 1984, written/directed/stars Woody Allen, whom was nominated this year)

"I don't wanna badmouth the kid, but he's a horrible, dishonest, immoral louse. And I say that with all due respect."

Annie Hall (came out in 1977, written/directed/stars Woody Allen, whom was nominated this year)

"They did not take me in the Army. I was, um, interestingly enough, I was, I was 4-P. Yes. In the, in the event of war, I'm a hostage."

Last, but not least:

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (came out in 2004, Noah Baumbach co-wrote the screenplay, he was nominated this year)

"You really think it's cool for you to hit the sauce with a bun in the oven?"

-here's another one-

"Wolodarsky, go get the keys to that fishing boat, and throw them in the water. No, wait. They might have another set. Just blow it up."

-another-

"Oh, s--t! Swamp leeches! Everybody, check for swamp leeches, and pull them off... Nobody else got hit? I'm the only one? What's the deal?"

-why stop now?-

Question:

"That's an endangered species at best. What would be the scientific purpose of killing it?"

Answer:

"Revenge."

Take it easy.

Scott.

Blogs--Useful Tool or Useless Fad?

2006-03-05T17:52:00.000-05:00

It's Oscar night! No matter how ridiculous the winners might be, and how boring the actual ceremony is, nothing can keep me from watching my precious Oscar's. But, before the show, I thought I'd discuss a topic that I feel deserves some attention.

I mentioned in my first entry that I was once against blogging. I considered them to be meaningless wastes of time for people who had too much free...time. I didn't read them or like them. I have, as one can probably tell from the mere fact that I maintain my own, had a reversal of opinion on them.

Blogs have merit. While some are partisan (many would argue that mine is a partisan blog, adhering to a strictly liberal viewpoint on every issue I discuss—these people could very well be right in thinking that. I am not here to disprove those claims) and some are personal diaries that can be viewed by anyone who is inclined (I do not wish my blog to become a journal of my personal life, but I will not shy away from discussing personal topics from time to time), they serve a purpose nonetheless. They are outlets of expression for the bloggers. Expressing viewpoints in new ways is cathartic. Expressing thoughts in anyway is cathartic for some.

Are bloggers well-informed? This is purely objective. Some may claim to be in-the-know on what they're discussing, and others may willingly admit that their opinion is simply a matter of regurgitating what they heard from a friend or a headline without any in-depth research on the issue.

Who cares? How objective is news in general? In one of my classes, Public Policy & Administration, we discussed how the mass media is simply a political institution (I think it's hard to argue that it's not). This happens as the causal effect from the fact that the media is revenue-driven. They want the sexy stuff. Scandal. Lies. Sex. There is nothing objective about covering Bill Clinton's sex life or Natalie Holloway's disappearance—it sells.

Getting back on topic: blogging. I've heard it argued that blogs have no redeeming value. I beg to differ. I believe we live in times where less emphasis is placed on developing an intellect, and more is placed on simply covering the basics—why waste time on a 4-year Bachelor's Degree when you can get an Associate's instead? Half the time—half the learning and half the work. Why go to graduate school? People at the Doctorate level are now having a harder time than ever before finding job placement at the level they have worked so hard to get at. What does this have to do with blogs?

Many classes today are requiring students to participate in blogs that are made and maintained by those students. They discuss current events and topics assigned to them to think critically about. This plays right into the hands of socially-inclined students by allowing them to comment in an unlimited amount of space, while simultaneously allowing the shy students to voice their opinions in a manner that will not place them in the potentially embarrassing position of having to speak before a live audience of listeners. To quote The West Wing again, decisions are made by those who show up. Posting an entry on a blog is equivalent to raising your hand. Voicing your opinion gives you a say in what happens. Voicing your opinion gives you credibility.

I liken the advent of blogging to the Harry Potter books—it entices the younger generations to read and explore new horizons (social issues they never would've considered before etc...). As I stated before with the classroom application, blogging is an incredibly usable and practical educational tool. Refusing to use such a tool is a blatant example of ignorance: blogging utilizes the use of incredible technology. Classrooms from different states can post thoughts on the same blog, which in turn will stimulate the necessity to entertain viewpoints from across the country. Classrooms from different countries can interact on the same blog.

Of course there are misuses of blogs and things like that, which can be compared to “spam” and those weirdos who inject computer viruses into e-mails and hyper links. Why should this ruin the world of good that can come from this medium?

I'd like, for a moment, to discuss some of the other current and potential uses of blogs. Political candidates currently use blogs to discuss issues with their supporters (and also to anyone whom is inclined to check the blog). This has terrific potential to jump start more grassroots-oriented campaigns. Also currently, many media figures maintain their own blogs (Keith Olbermann and Chris Matthews of MSNBC for example). Such blogs can serve as important linkages to current news stories and their application to everyday life. What I'd like to see happen eventually are blogs at the Presidential/Gubernatorial/Senatorial etc... level, which can connect high-level officials with everyday people. This assumes honesty on behalf of the office-holder, of course. There are inherently obvious flaws with such a notion, of course.

Finally, I'd like to speak of other practical personal implications of blogging. Blogging is a new means in which family members and friends can view pictures instantaneously and plan reunions and other outings without the obligatory two-hour long-distance ($$$) phone call from a land line (landlines are unnecessary, in my opinion—cell phones are cheaper and you're never really out of reach).

I always find myself marveling at the speed in which I'm able to share pictures with friends over the internet. There's no film developing or anything necessary to look at pictures now. Just quickly load them onto the hard drive of your computer and the possibilities are seemingly limitless.

The only limits can can be placed on new technology, like blogging, are those that are imposed by those who are unwilling to accept new modes of communication and intellect—no matter how one-sided or uninformed it might be.

Take it easy.

Scott.

North Country

2006-03-03T03:13:00.000-05:00

Keeping in line with the title of this blog, "Up Late with Scott", I'm clocking in at past 3 a.m. (I must be lonely...name the artist of the song I just referenced for some more of my sought-after admiration).

North Country is generally very good. Unfortunately, it falls victim to some similar flaws that Charlize Theron's breakout movie Monster had. (In a nutshell: both were pretty good until the last twenty minutes).

Isn't it weird that we have to consider Monster to be Theron's breakout role? Up until then her best performance had been in That Thing You Do!. (7 years separated the two films).

As in Monster, this movie crumbles at the end. This is the result of Woody Harrelson's weak performance and an equally weak subplot written for him and one of the most unconvincing courtroom exchanges I've ever seen (with Harrelson at the forefront). The buildup in this movie is so well done and handled with utter precision, and then it just absolutely caves in on itself. Harrelson delivers his lame lines with absolutely no conviction and is clearly out of his comfort zone. I would say that the major fault of North Country was the decision to splice the story of Theron's courageous character with the trial that follows--the first ever class action lawsuit about sexual harassment. The casting of the two main courtoom characters--the defense attorney and the judge--are not good choices. Linda Edmond plays the defense attorney and is a horribly one-dimensional character with no emotion, and John Aylward plays the judge (you may recognize him as Dr. Anspaugh from tv's ER) with no authority. Curiously, the judge rules completely contradictory to himself on several occasions throughout the course of the movie. He will sustain an objection to a line of questioning and then immediately following he will overrule virtually the same exact objection. This is poor screenwriting.

There are, however, five gem performances in the movie. The actors are, in no particular order: Charlize Theron, Frances McDormand, Sean Bean, Sissy Spacek, and Richard Jenkins (you may recognize him as the psychiatrist from There's Something About Mary). Richard Jenkins is actually the most interesting performance in my opinion. The movie shows his character do a complete 180 degree turn emotionally (I won't get into specifics, since it's integral to the picture).

A few words about the subject matter: this film is based on a true accounts from northern Minnesota in a land mine where female miners were subject to some of the most horrid behavior imaginable. They were physically attacked and degraded in many, many ways. These women who came forward (Theron's character spearheaded the lawsuit) have some big balls. They deserve to have their own movie.

I give the film a 4/5.

Woody Harrelson gets a 1/5. I am not adverse to giving out a score of 0/5, but Woody gets a sympathy 1/5 rating because he has done a lot of good work in his past, and I'm a fan of his. Wag the Dog, anyone? Kingpin?

Take it easy.

Scott.

Walk the Line

2006-03-03T00:16:00.000-05:00

I just watched Walk the Line, and I was impressed. I didn't expect I would like it all that much--other than Johnny Cash's music, which I already happen to love--and what impressed me the most was, naturally, the two lead performances by Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon.

While the film suffers from the same mistakes that Ray fell victim to the previous year (namely relying on flashbacks to tell the story of what is happening currently in the plotline of the story), it redeems itself with terrific moments of heart between June Carter and Johnny Cash.

My biggest beef with the movie is that it isn't as dark a film as I would've liked it to be. The film doesn't really do a good job of explaining the almost sinister desire of Johnny to experience prison life. In its defence, the script does attempt to explain this by establishing early on the guilt that is imposed on Johnny by his father in the aftermath of Johnny's brother, Jack, being killed in a barbaric saw accident. This is, of course, essentially the story of Ray Charles. There are so many similarities between Johnny Cash and Ray Charles it almost feels redundant to watch Walk the Line after having seen Ray. Walk the Line is superior is just about every way, however, and even it falls short of being a true 4-star movie.

I mentioned earlier that Walk the Line's reliance on flashbacks in the beginning (well, to stay true to what actually happens in the movie, there is only one flashback and it lasts for about the first 10-12 minutes of the movie) are the detriment to the story. Walk the Line's blunder is a fundamental one: we see Johnny at a very young age, 12, and immediately we are sent to him serving in the Air Force, where he magically learns to play guitar and write a gut-wrenching song ("Folsom Prison Blues"). If you're going to incorporate the childhood, don't abandon it! Don't leave me dangling! I have been and will always be a proponent of the notion that "less is more." Exposing scars from the past is more effective when seen in unexpected bursts of emotion in a moment of (seemingly) unrelated passion--a trigger (Aaron Sorkin perfected this notion in an episode of The West Wing entitled "Noel"). Something triggers the memory. I'm old-fashioned and a fan of dramatization, so a soliloquy or a monologue or something like that that explains the inner-pain of the character saves not only time, but the anguish of the viewer trying to discern what just happened to the 8 or so unexplained years of Cash's life.

If I were forced to give Walk the Line a rating, I would give it a 4/5.

The next movie I have to watch is North Country. I'm sure a review will follow it.

Take it easy.

Scott.

The Movie Post

2006-02-27T23:13:00.000-05:00

I promised to discuss movies on my blog in my beginning entry...so I guess I should follow-through before I leave that promise by the way-side.

I'm what some might call a "movie buff." My expertise on film directors and writers has fallen by the wayside in the past two years, though, and I have left my movie passion out to dry. For as far back as I can remember I envisioned what it would feel like winning an Oscar and getting to make a perfectly succinct and moving speech; now I have nothing but disdain for Hollywood and have lost faith in the Academy Awards. When I was growing up, I was in awe of movies like Schindler's List, Unforgiven, and Dances With Wolves. I saw these movies as ones that had risen through the ranks and were literally the best picture of the year. I understand, and have understood for a while now, that this is not the case.

At first I didn't understand how it was possible for a movie like Shakespeare in Love to triumph over The Thin Red Line, or Gladiator to triumph over...well the fact that Gladiator won best picture will forever, in my mind, be the most ridiculous choice ever. It's not what movie is actually the best picture, it's all just a way of helping friends out. The people that vote for the Oscar's are actors (60% of who votes for the Oscar's, members of the illustrious Academy, are in fact actors). No objective panel or anything like that--it's all hogwash. Terrence Malick's films won't win any awards because he has no connection to Hollywood, and he makes a film approximately every fifty years (that's a joke, it's more like every eleven years when you do the math I think).

I have yet to see many of the key nominated movies this year, including Capote, Brokeback Mountain, and Walk the Line. Of the movies that I have seen, I would say that The New World is the best film of the year, and I would go so far as to say that I haven't seen as good a movie for several years. The New World is incredibly meticulous and detail-conscious, and it features a splendid performance by Q'Orianka Kilcher. She was 13 I believe when the movie was filming, and she plays the lead role of the movie, which is as none other than Pocahontas herelf. Colin Farrell plays John Smith very well, and Christian Bale emerges halfway through the movie in a terrifically subtle performance as John Rolfe.

Kilcher's performance is physical in the sense that she speaks very little, except for the little bit of Algonquin that she speaks in the beginning and middle parts. You heard me. The Internet Movie Database claims that only 10 people speak this language today, and some of them were hired to coach the actors in the movie. I don't know if that's true or not, but how many people do you know are speaking Algonquin in the hallways at work?

What is so amazing about this movie is the use of nature. Nature has been the main character in the last three of Mallick's films (Days of Heaven, The Thin Red Line, and now The New World--the only other film he did was 1973's Badlands with Martin Sheen), and his delicate touch is evident on every frame of the movie. The glare of the sun in the river water is blinding. It's two hours and twenty minutes of long, connected still pictures mixed with the story of English settlers in the early 1600s. I can't wait to see it again.

Instead of picking the movie that I think I would like to see win the Oscar, I will pick the movie that I absolutely DON'T want to win--and I'll do the same with the other main categories.

Best Picture: Crash
Director: Paul Haggis, Crash
Best Actor: Terrence Howard, Hustle & Flow
Best Actress: Keira Knightly, Pride & Prejudice (it's not that I don't like here--I didn't even see the movie, but I think she's a pretty good actress and would like to see her win for a movie that more people have seen and she needs to be reprimanded for The Jacket)
Best Supporting Actor: Matt Dillon, Crash
Best Supporting Actress: Michelle Williams, Brokeback Mountain (Dawson's Creek...AHHHH!!!)

The astute observer will notice that I am strongly anti-Crash (I didn't even see Hustle & Flow--I just thought Terrence Howard's performance in Crash was so weak that I can't bear the thought of watching him in another movie, especially one where he's rapping). It's not that I think Crash is a bad movie, I think that it's incredibly mediocre. All the movie does is simply point out (racial) stereotypes...it offers no suggestions, and is very very bleak in its outlook.

I am just thankful Ridley Scott didn't make a movie that's nominated for anything this year...any year where he's out of contention for an Oscar is a good year by me!!!

Take it easy

Scott

p.s. Good Night, and Good Luck

Holy Crap--a post already!

2006-02-26T23:25:00.000-05:00

Hey, I'm feeling like ranting about stuff right now. So I'm just going to let loose and see what happens.

How many people out there have satellite radio? Not many...that's what I suspected. You don't know what you're missing. I have had Sirius since late October now, and it's just about the best thing I ever got. Yes, I listen to Howard Stern, but that is not the main reason I got Sirius. I have never been a fan of taking out/putting in cds into the stereo in my car while I'm driving, and regular FM radio is completely worthless. Crap songs, crap commercials, crap jockeys. Enter: satellite radio.

It's $12.95 a month and I get over 60 music stations (and I actually listen to 10 of them regularly, so it's not like I'm letting the content evade me), not to mention Howard Stern (he's on two channels, 100 and 101) and plenty of other stuff, like news, comedy, and the gay channel. Of the news and other misc. stations, some channels that I listen to are TalkLeft (a politically liberal talk radio station), C-SPAN (gotta love the House of Commons from England's parliament), and Raw Dog Comedy.

My current favorite music station is '60s Vibrations. They're currently playing "Mr. Tambourine Man" as sung by The Byrds. They play a lot of things like Neil Diamond and Wilson Pickett. You can't deny the awesomeness of that, can you?

Sirius also has a channel for truckers. Not kidding. I can't imagine what they talk about (which "Choke & Puke" to stop at next, perhaps? If you can name the movie I just referenced, I'll admire you forever). I've never listened to it--I have, however, listened to Radio Korea. They speak in some weird language (Korean, maybe?) and it's actually quite entertaining.

Why pay for radio when I can listen to it for free? No commercials on the music stations, and they play specific things to their respective stations, so it's going to fit your taste. The clarity is amazing too, as it's all digital and is beamed throughout space and other technologically efficient things that costs lots of money to do I'm sure. Why get satellite radio when I already have an iPod? That was a bad buy, my friend. The iPod isn't nearly as good as satellite radio. Howard Stern has talked about this at length on his program, and I agree with his assessment: iPods don't bring content to you. You have to supply the content. Satellite radio brings everything you want, whether it's bluegrass, jazz, or gay people talking about gay things on the gay channel.

I don't believe that $12.95 is that much either to pay a month. When you think about it, how much does cable tv cost? I would estimate that I listen to Sirius more than 4 hours a day probably (I always have it on when I'm home and awake), and I watch less than an hour of tv a day (unless 24 is on--and that show isn't that good...maybe I'll write about that show for my next entry!). I believe Sirius is the better buy when compared to cable tv.

Well...I hope my first post wasn't completely stupid. I actually had fun doing this. I think I'll do it again!!!!

Take it easy.

Scott.

The Spencer Davis Group

2006-02-26T23:17:00.000-05:00

As the Spencer Davis Group said famously in 1967--"Gimme some lovin'."

What do you think of when this song comes to mind? I tend to think of the scene in the Tom Cruise movie Days of Thunder which features this tune.

I used to confuse this song with "Do You Love Me?" by Kiss for some reason. I don't know why.

You are correct in assuming this rant is entirely ridiculous. I'm just testing it out. Taking the whole "blog" thing out for a spin. I used to be "con" blogs. I was against them. They made me thing of misinformed political hacks who think they know what they're talking about.

It turns out that characterizes me quite nicely.

Among the things I will be writing about are going to be: politics, movies, and rants about nothing in particular. This is assuming that I will keep up with the blog, of course.

Who knows what will happen with this thing.

Quick question: has anyone ever won the pulitzer for writing their own personal blog about politics, movies, and rants about nothing in particular?