Great Urinals of the Hawai'ian Islands

 

Volcano House hotel, Pahoa, Hawai'i.

How to read John Ford

I can never get enough John Ford. I am picky about which ones though, just like I am about everything else. It’s the Westerns mostly. And some of his American frontier ones like Young Mr. Lincoln (1939) and Drums Along the Mohawk (1939). At home I just watched a trio of Westerns I consider to be his last great successes of that genre: The Horse Soldiers (1959), Two Rode Together (1961) and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962). And these last 2 particularly are something like variations on a theme—Two Rode Together revisits issues from The Searchers (1956) and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance harks back to My Darling Clementine (1946). Wait, can I say variations on a theme? In classical music I think it only applies to a composer reworking a piece from another composer, like lately I been really into Brahms’s “Variations and fugue on a theme by Handel, Op. 24,” but I digress.

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance had a ton of stuff I’d never noticed before. And this is a movie I’ve always loved and first saw it when I was in my early 20s. It’s really saying a lot about a movie if it gets better through the years. First of all there’s its subject matter, which along with My Darling Clementine uses characters who serve as symbols for the dualism of man’s nature in terms of wild/domesticated, or civilized/savage, and the clash of a society torn between civilization/wilderness, or law/anarchy; and these 2 characters in both films are caught in a love triangle with a woman.

     What I noticed this time around were certain aspects of TOM DONIPHON. He’s masculine as hell. And he’s the wild part of man’s nature. He smokes cigarettes. He drinks whiskey. And ultimately we see him quit shaving, get falling-down drunk, belligerent, and burn down the part of his house he’d built as an annex for the woman he planned on marrying—but when he destroys the part meant for her, he takes down his own home along with it. That’s powerful stuff. That house symbolizes his heart. I think something that helped me see this aspect was that when I was in film school I picked up on how in David Peoples’ script for Unforgiven (1992, Clint Eastwood) the house LITTLE BILL builds for himself being deformed is a symbol of his interpretation of the law: crooked, and everyone knows it. In contrast, RANSOM STODDARD is the domestic, even feminine. In the scene where Stoddard brings the steak for Doniphon, what’s Valance say? Something like: hey get a load of the new waitress. And Stoddard doesn't drink.

     Another thing that caught my attention for the first time is the meal Stoddard is served. All the other men eat steak. But what’s Stoddard eat? It looks like bread and beans. Because in the Old West vegetarians were probably considered pussies. Nowadays he'd send the toast back and inform the staff he was gluten free.

     Even the biggest part of the story took on a new aspect for me. I’d always thought The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance is about how Stoddard came back to pay his respects to his best friend, and how Tom Doniphon is a noble, virtuous, generous, doing what’s best for society forward-thinker. But is he? At the end when Stoddard asks his wife who put the cactus rose on the coffin he seems to say it with contempt. Like maybe he disapproves. Like maybe he’s jealous. And worse, when he suggests moving back, could he be implying that now that Doniphon is dead it’d be a great place to live?

     And even though he has his problems, Doniphon is unquestionably the hero. But there are more problematic aspects of his character. Like the way he treats HALLIE. She’s constantly angry with him, and then there’s the scene where she yells at him about not being his property. Yet when he tells her he’s leaving town for a few days, the way she leaves the house after he’s left to watch him go is one of the most moving scenes in the movie—a very Fordian touch if there ever was one. (Also this moment recalls the same thing HANNAH does when COL. MARLOWE leaves in The Horse Soldiers.) I wonder if this occurs in other of Ford’s films, I know I’ll be looking from now on.

     Another thing about Ford is what he leaves out. Like WYATT EARP never telling CLEMENTINE CARTER he loves her, there are some crucial things left unsaid in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, much to its advantage. Doniphon never tells Hallie that he loves her. After the night Stoddard is elected, what happens to Tom Doniphon? Did he and Hallie ever speak again? Why did Hallie marry Stoddard? How did Doniphon die? The point is none of this matters, and the story works better without these answers. Doniphon represents an outdated way of life, and Stoddard his replacement.

     There’s also the problem about POMPEY. In the standoff with Valance, Doniphon refers to Pompey as his “boy.” But worse is the scene where Stoddard is educating Pompey in the schoolroom and Doniphon barges in yelling about how Pompey has chores to do and pulls him away. Coud this be seen as resembling slavery? No. Because Doniphon later fights for Pompey to be served in the saloon, where there’s clearly a policy of not allowing black people to drink in there. But my point is despite the way Doniphon treats Stoddard, Hallie, or Pompey, (Applyard maybe?) they’re the only ones to mourn him at his funeral. The morals of The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance are nuanced.

 

8/20/2022

Paramount Pictures 2017 blu-ray

Atlanta, GA

Breakfast Club Breakfast Club Breakfast Club

Is there a categorization for the historical chronology of horror movies? My own taste starts with what I consider the modern era: Halloween (1978, John Carpenter) and Dawn of the Dead (1978, George A. Romero) to Evil Dead II (1987, Sam Raimi) and Opera (1987, Dario Argento). I’m very picky. I don’t like a lot of horror, but the ones I do I’m emphatic about. My latest joy is discovering The Return of the Living Dead (1985, Dan O’Bannon).
     The next phase begins with Scream (1996, Wes Craven). So I guess I’d call this the postmodern era. Here’s where I get lazy due to indifference. Because I only find the truly great works in that 1978-1987 period. There are a few exceptions. Horror never really goes away. But for the purpose of this piece I’m only mentioning these movies because of something most of them have in common: teens partying.

 

Bodies Bodies Bodies (2022, Halina Reijn) is a teen¹ psychological chamber drama that’s cleverly structured, and wonderfully portrays each individual in its ensemble. I don’t really like these characters. I really like these characters.
     Yeah maybe my biggest compliment about Bodies Bodies Bodies is that I can’t recall being so polarized by a group of characters anywhere else. They’re a little obnoxious, but they’re also relatable and I even empathize with their humanity—which makes them authentically compelling. And if what first lured me into horror movies was the diversionary tactic of being lulled into a false sense of security amid a bunch of teens indulging in immoral acts in pursuit of fun, Bodies Bodies Bodies kind of does the same thing only reverses one thing: the horror is in the service of the drama at its center.
     But I’m also relieved that the pacing worked for me because normally I hate movies that all take place in one location. I mean unless it’s the Overlook Hotel we’re talking about, it doesn’t take long for my attention to wander wondering if it was just a way to skimp on the budget. Another upside here is that I know the narrative works when I don’t fret over where the story is going or how it’s going to end (or worse, when it’s going to end). And the way this movie was handled in terms of plotting, right up to its conclusion was just a delight.
 
¹the characters aren't teens
 
8/10/2022 Regal Atlantic Station
Atlanta, GA
DCP

&$#@%!

In this piece I will argue to prove my thesis that there is no system by which a movie can be judged as good or bad. Because if one considers a movie is made from: plot, character, dialogue, genre, and setting; and, say the movie fails in four of these five categories, as long as it succeeds in one, it could be considered a fine achievement.
     Furthermore, who is to say whether a movie succeeds or fails in any or all of these five categories? Or, if you tell me any one factor by which you would deem a movie crap (a failure), I could cite an example of another movie that I would call a success despite said factor.

 

Bullet Train (2022, David Leitch) is an action movie that’s fun and entertaining. But that isn’t to say it it’s not brilliant. Because most action movies I’ve seen in the theater haven’t absorbed my attention while continuously being entertained. So of the five categories I mentioned, the one in which Bullet Train proves itself is genre.
     But what is it that makes a great action movie? That’s a matter of opinion again no doubt. But for me, in the case of Bullet Train, it’s style. And starting with its look, think something like Japan as a concept. There’s one car on the train in particular where the lighting fixtures cast it in saturated hues of cool blues, purple, and pink, for example. Think neon. Think Tokyo. Think Michael Bay lighting that nightclub in The Island (2005).
     And beyond the look, there’s also a sensibility. What lured me into watching anime is trying to find a particular technique I’d stumbled upon where non-sequitur off-model incongruous animation styles depict brief cutaway breaks with the narrative for a heightened comedic effect. Now, I’m not saying that happens in Bullet Train, but it reminds me of the feel I got watching all of these relentless interludes of montagecore (set to rock) flashbacks.
     Also, I’m going to refrain from listing any examples of what other kinds of action movies Bullet Train reminds me of, because that’s tacky. But you know the ones I’m talking about: the ensemble cast of comedically colorful criminals that are set up as gravitating around one unifying narrative objective. And that’s my final take on the influence of manga or anime, the way the world of Bullet Train has its own charm. The characters inhabiting this world are solely in service of style. They’re not nasty. They’re cool, entertaining, fun.
     So in a more nuanced subjective way than I’m used to trying to express, something about Brad Pitt’s character, LADYBUG, clicked with me. I love Brad Pitt. He’s got that movie star quality where even in a movie like Bullet Train, when he’s casually, relaxed, even when the stakes of the narrative are ramped up adrenaline perilous extreme, that gives a fun contrast. I love Ladybug’s wardrobe. The dude is a step above Lebowski level loungewear. There’s a line LEMON (Brian Tyree Henry) says something about Ladybug like “you look like every homeless white guy I ever seen.” Yep. And because of him, I relaxed. 
     And while I was relaxed, I was entertained, and didn’t sweat the story, but still kept gradually being pulled in just a little more and wanting to see where this all was going. But in the best way. I felt like nothing was forced. I don’t care why all these people are on this train, because I like finding out as you go.
 
8/02/2022 AMC Madison Yards 8
Atlanta, GA
DCP
 

Technologies for the Clearest Juice; The Drippy Stuff; That Wet-Wet; Nature's Friend Part 1: The Sixteenth Ounce

(Smol water bottle is smol.)

I'm using one of nature's least useful creations today: the 16-ounce Nalgene bottle. It's fun in size. It fits right in the hand, it's even pocketable! Like all Naglenes, it's a near-perfect vessel for sticker deployment, second perhaps only as a vehicle for same to the, uh, vehicles driven by special kinds of liberals who say my politics let me show you them ALL of them. However, it's challenging in configuration. The long cap strap imposes:

• A cap-dangle when the open bottle is at rest, which can be unstable and which is certainly unsightly (see visualization)


(Attend in this moment to the angle of the dangle. The weight is distributed...poorly in this disposition.)

• This instability increases as the bottle's cargo lessens, inviting the minor paradox of spills becoming more likely as the spillable matter becomes less
• An awkward flapping when the open bottle is in motion, as, say, when being hoisted for a quaff, i.e. when used for its usual purpose: the quench
  • This is a particular problem vis-a-vis spatter and splatter, as the world's most effective attractor slash distributor of water droplets has long been understood to be the grooves inside the lid (or "cap") of a Nalgene, which no one has ever cleaned adequately nor dried effectively

But! As the worker at the coffee shop this afternoon said—well after I had begun this piece, oddly—"It looks like a fun size!" It does. It is! And I enjoy this adorable lil' bottle enormously probably in oversized part precisely because it is small.

It's adorable. I aim to adore it. Until I inevitably knock it over onto my keyboard later this afternoon sometime.

Fire

Fire (2022, Claire Denis) depicts an idyllic paradise vacation shared by a couple, captured in Denis’ inimitable style: sensuously textured intimacy with shapes of bodies in contact verging on abstract expressionism. But upon returning to Paris, what ensues is a moody melodrama set to an ominous Tindersticks score.
     The narrative’s construction could be described as opening with a quaint bubble where a comfortable romance is contained within; then from that point is followed by an unvarnished, heavy, fearsome outer space that offers little to no comfort for anyone—but isn’t this more satisfying anyway? Denis’ raw emotional claustrophobic confrontation with the formidable performances of 2 of her most captivating performers—Juliette Binoche and Vincent Lindon—is blanketed with her warmth and tenderness in ways not found in Cassavetes or Bergman. But this isn’t to say it isn’t painful.
     Claire Denis has always been a filmmaker who paints pain beautifully. Fire doesn’t moralize the position of either of its central characters. And the complications are the subject of the film, not any type of resolutions. So, it’s here that again the French prove how to provide that which Hollywood forgot how to.
 
7/22/2022 Regal Tara
Atlanta, GA
DCP

Gordy's Home

SOCRATES: Should movies be about something?
ANONYMOUS: Sirk said he cannot make movies about something, only with something—flowers, reflective surfaces.
SOCRATES: But aren’t his movies said to be about systemic hypocrisy, unrequited love, and sexual frustration?
ANONYMOUS: How could they not be?
SOCRATES: Then movies shouldn’t be made to disseminate a message, but should say something, does that sound right?

Nope (2022, Jordan Peele) is a horror movie that’s incidentally adorned with a ufo invasion façade. It’s also a virtuoso display of inspired storytelling. 
     I can’t remember the last time I watched a horror movie that felt this delightfully psychologically-macabre. Nope strikes the perfect balance of unsettling and absorbing that makes for the most accomplished of classic horror. Isn’t that the hardest to earn? Aside from terrifying the audience or disturbing devices, when was the last time the story itself felt original?
     Jordan Peele’s made some movies that feel like they have a message. Nope hits hard because it says something without saying it. I don’t know that everything adds up to some specific statement, but what I gathered is: there’s a delicate balance between life forms and entertainment. Nevertheless, the ufo could symbolize people spending too much time on junk media (TV, apps, social media?) that suck them out of real life. And maybe there’s a connection between the way some animals you think are tame can sometimes unexpectedly attack when you get too close.

     At the moment when Alfred E. Neuman is depicted as Gordy I was instantly transfixed by the kind of joy of story that's been all to elusive lately. Specifically, the backstory of Gordy’s Home and the listing of all those cast members from the ’95 season of SNL was scarier because of its authenticity. And Nope isn’t just a great horror movie, it also transcends box office concessions by substantially proving its artistic merit. Hoyte van Hoytema’s diffuse palette is as soothing as can be, with night exteriors particularly lit so delicately as to convincingly evoke the feel of being so far removed from city limits. (Also the Edge car tracking OJ on horseback is Muybridge to the future.) And Ruth De Jong with the Haywood house, and rustic amusement community gives the time spent in Agua Dulce a sense of really going somewhere else for 2 hours.
     The whole time watching Nope I kept thinking there is no way they can fuck this up. And by the end, although I’m not taken with the whole Christo and Jeanne-Claude thing, I accept it. Nope isn’t about ufos. By the way how cool is Michael Wincott? I’ve recently brought his name up several times in conversation, mostly because I’m such a huge fan of Strange Days (1995, Kathryn Bigelow); I watch it every New Year’s Eve. I just wondered what happened to him and how cool that moment in 1995 the dude’s in The Crow, Strange Days, and Dead Man.

 

7/21/2022 AMC Madison Yards 8

Atlanta, GA

DCP

Very Metal

Thor: Love and Thunder (2022, Taika Waititi) is the best comedy of the year. And as a follow-up to Thor: Ragnarok (2017, Waititi) it doesn’t disappoint. Like its predecessor, it deserves to be seen in a movie theater.

Marvel sucks. It’s usually because the movies (and series) draw out a banal origin story (interchangeable with new premise) that relies too much on mediocre drama, peppered with low-grade attempts at sarcastic wit, and overly indulges in choreographed fights and vfx spectacles that look identical—unless they’re done by James Gunn or Taika Waititi.

     When the MCU launched I avoided that garbage. Until that is Thor: Ragnarok opened on the biggest IMAX screen in Texas and I went in on a whim. What sets Taika Waititi’s Thor films apart is that he reverses the ratio of mediocre drama to comedy the rest of the MCU suffers from. And he actually knows funny. (It’s similar with James Gunn, but Gunn gives a little more emphasis to genre delights; although, he’s also an expert with comedy.) And rounding out Waititi’s own style that sets itself apart from the bland uniformity of the rest of the MCU output is his every primary color of the rainbow art direction.

     To limit my comments about the content of Thor: Love and Thunder, I’ll quickly mention I was unsure if it was going to fall short of the expectations some might have had in comparison to Thor: Ragnarok, until I got to the Golden Temple set piece. Everything I love about the visual imagination and creativity in execution, along with the culmination of comedy and action comes together in the Golden Temple.

     In closing, although I really didn’t find a way to adequately work this in, I stan NEBULA. She’s easily my biggest draw to the MCU. She’s cold, and less a sociopath than a being whose primary existence is to hate. And THANOS is her dad! (I also love Thanos but he’s like mopey emo sullen.) Sure, even though her bald head, black contacts and dour demeanor give her an uncanny resemblance to Hellraiser, she's still very sexy. And random nerd trivia: in Thor: Love and Thunder am I the only one who suspects the giant screaming goats bear an overwhelming resemblance to the endangered screamapillar Homer discovers in DABF16, penned by John Swartzwelder?

 

7/20/2022 AMC Madison Yards 8

Atlanta, GA

DCP

Beach Cairns of the Pacific Northwest

 

Beach Cairns of the Pacific Northwest