In watching the fifth disc of "Planet Earth", which btw is fantastic and everyone should watch the whole series - it's amazing, I discovered that early pregnancy tests involved injecting women's urine into mice, then frogs, then rabbits.
http://german.about.com/library/blfroschtest.htm
Bizarre.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Dexter % % % % %
Woo hoo! I knew this show would kick into gear eventually and in the last episode on the second disk, it did. The ice truck killer's identity is brilliant. What an appropriate occupation! And now Dexter's having real feelings, instead of convincing himself that he's an alien, the show can really become compelling and exciting.
I particularly liked the interplay of sex and making love and the real emotional intimacy required for the latter. It's tough, and rare. I'm surprised that women tossed Dexter after sleeping with him because he was emotionless. I've had a few hollow emotional relationships and I never booted someone for just fucking. It's nice to think that women have those standards and that awareness, but I doubt it's all that common.
I particularly liked the interplay of sex and making love and the real emotional intimacy required for the latter. It's tough, and rare. I'm surprised that women tossed Dexter after sleeping with him because he was emotionless. I've had a few hollow emotional relationships and I never booted someone for just fucking. It's nice to think that women have those standards and that awareness, but I doubt it's all that common.
Cat People ('82) % %
I rented it by accident. I meant to get the Val Lewton/Jacques Torneur 1942 Cat People.
This is not a great movie. It fails narratively, since there's no real sympathy for the blank Natasha Kinski, Irena, the main character who is discovering her deep secret, that she, like her brother and her parents before her, becomes a leopard when she gets sexually arroused. Even the director, Paul Schrader, has a hard time saying what the film is about. In the extras, there's an on set interview with him, in which he resists reducing the film to it's narrative, and then goes on to say that it's about myth and subconscious desires. This means that the film isn't traditionally engaging as entertainment, and it fails in exciting in a sexual or horror style as well. I didn't find it exciting, seductive or intellectually stimulating. He further can't really explain how he and Natasha created her character, which is because he didn't really create any engaging characters. In fact, Schraeder comes off as a creepy, over-intellectualized jack ass with no emotions or honest feelings. That's not to say that there aren't interesting and appealing aspects to the film.
The soundtrack is by Giorgio Moroder. It's awesome. And the theme song is sung by David Bowie, "Putting out a fire with gasoline". The cast includes Malcolm McDowell as Irena's murdering, incestuous brother; John Laroquette, Ruby Dee(A Raisin in the Sun), Frankie Faison (playing another cop) and Ed Bagely Jr in small but delightful roles.
The intro scenes involving the primal historical sacrifices are interesting in that they expose a pre-adolescent boy sexual fantasy, much like Conan the Barbarian. The theme of the movie is sexual imagination, according to the director, and it shows a fairly juvenile sexuality. But that can be fun sometimes. It's an amusing conceit that someone's sexuality can turn them into a murderous beast. But with the inclusion of the brother, it makes it less about feminine sexuality, and more about sexuality in general, and then it becomes too broad to really be all that exciting or engaging.
So blah. It had some cool spots, but I could have watched Ray on UPN for the second time, and been better off. But then again, there's alot of nudity in Cat People, and a very cool scene in the forest at night that's shot in black and white and colored in post. So it's got some neat stuff, but you don't need to watch the whole thing, and it feels like it could have ended three times over.
This is not a great movie. It fails narratively, since there's no real sympathy for the blank Natasha Kinski, Irena, the main character who is discovering her deep secret, that she, like her brother and her parents before her, becomes a leopard when she gets sexually arroused. Even the director, Paul Schrader, has a hard time saying what the film is about. In the extras, there's an on set interview with him, in which he resists reducing the film to it's narrative, and then goes on to say that it's about myth and subconscious desires. This means that the film isn't traditionally engaging as entertainment, and it fails in exciting in a sexual or horror style as well. I didn't find it exciting, seductive or intellectually stimulating. He further can't really explain how he and Natasha created her character, which is because he didn't really create any engaging characters. In fact, Schraeder comes off as a creepy, over-intellectualized jack ass with no emotions or honest feelings. That's not to say that there aren't interesting and appealing aspects to the film.
The soundtrack is by Giorgio Moroder. It's awesome. And the theme song is sung by David Bowie, "Putting out a fire with gasoline". The cast includes Malcolm McDowell as Irena's murdering, incestuous brother; John Laroquette, Ruby Dee(A Raisin in the Sun), Frankie Faison (playing another cop) and Ed Bagely Jr in small but delightful roles.
The intro scenes involving the primal historical sacrifices are interesting in that they expose a pre-adolescent boy sexual fantasy, much like Conan the Barbarian. The theme of the movie is sexual imagination, according to the director, and it shows a fairly juvenile sexuality. But that can be fun sometimes. It's an amusing conceit that someone's sexuality can turn them into a murderous beast. But with the inclusion of the brother, it makes it less about feminine sexuality, and more about sexuality in general, and then it becomes too broad to really be all that exciting or engaging.
So blah. It had some cool spots, but I could have watched Ray on UPN for the second time, and been better off. But then again, there's alot of nudity in Cat People, and a very cool scene in the forest at night that's shot in black and white and colored in post. So it's got some neat stuff, but you don't need to watch the whole thing, and it feels like it could have ended three times over.
INLAND EMPIRE % % % %
Baffling, as always, this is Lynch at his most unrestrained. Working without a completed script and in digital video, David Lynch bounds through various themes: Hollywood, violence, sex, interconnected times, mysteries of the night, suburban secrets, 50s pop culture, and just anything that might creep out a viewer. There's strobe lights at uneven paces, screams, blood red lighting effects, decay, alter-egos, doors through time and space, demented women running at the camera into a close-up and more awkward closeups. And more closeups. The light digital cameras enable super-close shots at slightly odd angles, and Lynch utilizes the most irritating of digital camera mistakes to his unique motives. He manipulates focus so that the background is in focus when the face in close-up is out of focus, contrary to expectations. It's a little unnerving, and suggests that no one is ever clearly known.
Following an introductory scene involving a couple enterring a hotel room, presumably a sexual/business relationship, in which both people's faces are blurred, the first hour or so is fairly linear, and surrounds Laura Dern's character, Nancy, an actress in Hollywood, married to a powerful and mysterious man. She meets her new neighbor, played by a standard Lynch actress, who is super weird and says that she cannot tell tomorrow from yesterday. She also tells an odd story about a boy who goes out to play and creates evil. Evil. Evil. It doesn't make sense at the time, and I kept hoping it would click with something else in the film, but I got nothing out of it. Nancy gets a new film role and the linear plot follows the making of the film, which concerns a couple who enter into an adulterous affair. Nancy begins to lose control over the difference between her life and the film, and this is where is all goes bananas.
Nancy goes through a metal door off of an alley, goes back in time to an earlier scene and then gets trapped in a fifties-ish coral living room. She explores the house and spends most of her time with a group of young women, sexually provocative and dimly lit. There's screaming and red lights, bright flashes and choreographed dancing to 50s pop songs. The film moves to Poland, where Nancy's husband is involved with an invisible woman and some old men. And then Dern, dirty and dishelveled, meets with a man in a dark room high in a dilapadated warehouse, where she discusses her past abusive relationships and the ways she's beaten the men she's escaped from. There's also a side-line involving Julia Ormond, who I haven't seen work in a while, who goes into a police station. She's disturbed and has been hypnotised by some man in a bar and told to stab someone with a screw driver, but she's already stabbed herself with it. Then later she reappears as the wife of the adulterer in Nancy's film, and again as the first crazy version, stalking dirty Dern on Hollywood Blvd. Here the young women from the house are now prostitutes but still snapping in time together. Dern gets stabbed, staggers past the stars on the boulevard and collapses next to some people sleeping on the street waiting for a bus to Pomona. Not to mention the interludes of sitcom style scenes about a family of rabbits who speak in odd sequiters, as if part of an absurdist play.
There's all sorts that I've left out. Some of which I can't recall because it didn't make sense to me and some of which, like the Beck song on the soundtrack and the burlesque club, that felt awkward to me because of their contemporary connections. It felt to me that there was too much freedom. It went on too long and in so many different directions. And the film retread a great many of Lynch's themes that it at times felt like a satire.
So I found it an interesting freak out, but it lacked the mysterious beauty of films like Blue Velvet and Mulholland Drive, and the cohesive feeling of purpose of Lost Highway. I thought a few times around the two hour mark, that I would never indulge another filmmaker like I would Lynch, and with good reason. The dirty Dern was truly creepy, and the strange hallways leading to other places captured that archetypal mysterious feeling found in everyone's unconscious that brings me back to Lynch again and again.
Following an introductory scene involving a couple enterring a hotel room, presumably a sexual/business relationship, in which both people's faces are blurred, the first hour or so is fairly linear, and surrounds Laura Dern's character, Nancy, an actress in Hollywood, married to a powerful and mysterious man. She meets her new neighbor, played by a standard Lynch actress, who is super weird and says that she cannot tell tomorrow from yesterday. She also tells an odd story about a boy who goes out to play and creates evil. Evil. Evil. It doesn't make sense at the time, and I kept hoping it would click with something else in the film, but I got nothing out of it. Nancy gets a new film role and the linear plot follows the making of the film, which concerns a couple who enter into an adulterous affair. Nancy begins to lose control over the difference between her life and the film, and this is where is all goes bananas.
Nancy goes through a metal door off of an alley, goes back in time to an earlier scene and then gets trapped in a fifties-ish coral living room. She explores the house and spends most of her time with a group of young women, sexually provocative and dimly lit. There's screaming and red lights, bright flashes and choreographed dancing to 50s pop songs. The film moves to Poland, where Nancy's husband is involved with an invisible woman and some old men. And then Dern, dirty and dishelveled, meets with a man in a dark room high in a dilapadated warehouse, where she discusses her past abusive relationships and the ways she's beaten the men she's escaped from. There's also a side-line involving Julia Ormond, who I haven't seen work in a while, who goes into a police station. She's disturbed and has been hypnotised by some man in a bar and told to stab someone with a screw driver, but she's already stabbed herself with it. Then later she reappears as the wife of the adulterer in Nancy's film, and again as the first crazy version, stalking dirty Dern on Hollywood Blvd. Here the young women from the house are now prostitutes but still snapping in time together. Dern gets stabbed, staggers past the stars on the boulevard and collapses next to some people sleeping on the street waiting for a bus to Pomona. Not to mention the interludes of sitcom style scenes about a family of rabbits who speak in odd sequiters, as if part of an absurdist play.
There's all sorts that I've left out. Some of which I can't recall because it didn't make sense to me and some of which, like the Beck song on the soundtrack and the burlesque club, that felt awkward to me because of their contemporary connections. It felt to me that there was too much freedom. It went on too long and in so many different directions. And the film retread a great many of Lynch's themes that it at times felt like a satire.
So I found it an interesting freak out, but it lacked the mysterious beauty of films like Blue Velvet and Mulholland Drive, and the cohesive feeling of purpose of Lost Highway. I thought a few times around the two hour mark, that I would never indulge another filmmaker like I would Lynch, and with good reason. The dirty Dern was truly creepy, and the strange hallways leading to other places captured that archetypal mysterious feeling found in everyone's unconscious that brings me back to Lynch again and again.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
The Lives of Others % % % % %
Brilliant screenplay! A story within a story, convincingly told in a grey communist block palate and a rigid, symmetrical mise-en-scene reminiscent of fascist architecture.
And the theme is the transformative power of art. The life of art transforms the most brainwashed, rigid, suppressed, government stooge into taking risks, acting passionately and laying his own well-being on the line for others.
And while this transformation is truly affecting, the man, a Stasi spy in East Berlin, does not completely transform. This isn't a sappy, childish fantasy. This is East Berlin. He sacrifices himself, his power in life, to enable another with more revolutionary potential power to continue on and to affect their society in a more liberating direction. But in becoming more courageous, he is stymied by his supervisors and the institution for which he works. East Germany falls, Berlin changes, and in the end he is too poor to be free or dramatically free-willed. He pushes on and that in itself is courageous.
And the theme is the transformative power of art. The life of art transforms the most brainwashed, rigid, suppressed, government stooge into taking risks, acting passionately and laying his own well-being on the line for others.
And while this transformation is truly affecting, the man, a Stasi spy in East Berlin, does not completely transform. This isn't a sappy, childish fantasy. This is East Berlin. He sacrifices himself, his power in life, to enable another with more revolutionary potential power to continue on and to affect their society in a more liberating direction. But in becoming more courageous, he is stymied by his supervisors and the institution for which he works. East Germany falls, Berlin changes, and in the end he is too poor to be free or dramatically free-willed. He pushes on and that in itself is courageous.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Dexter % % % %
I'm still not totally sold.
But it's well written, acted and directed. Michael C. Hall is great. I love everyone from Six Feet Under so much, that sometimes, I miss them. Like old friends, I miss them. It's pathetic, but damn those were some well written characters. The writing got a little wobbly towards the end. But damn. I loved that show. I cried when it ended because it was over. And because the ending broke my heart. I still get wistful thinking about Keith.
So, my SFU aside aside, I think the writing on Dexter is great too. And it's totally quality visually. But... I don't know if I care yet. I don't know if I care about the characters. And really this is the challenge of a show about a likeable serial killer. So we'll see. I'm not totally convinced yet, but I do like the progressions of the characters that I've seen thus far. And it is a fascinating conceit that anyone would have a parent who loves them so much, that regardless of one's inclinations, habits or compulsions, that a parent might still help them to fit into society. I'm sure most parents like to think that they adjusted their parenting to the people that their kids presented as, but I think it's far more likely that most parents try their damnedest to make you fit their idea of you. Which, perhaps is really what happened to Dexter. And it is this conundrum that is drawing me on.
Keep up the good writing and I'll keep watching. And maybe I'll change my review to 5 %s.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Zodiac - % % % %
Following a set of characters of varying connection with the Zodiac murders over a period of 25 years is a tall task. Like biopics, true life historical films are tricky. Real life is just too random, boring, disconnected and NON NARRATIVE. It doesn't fit the stories we like to tell, because inherently the stories we like make us feel better about our lives by implying that there's order or meaning or resolution, when really there's very little of any of that. So I'm pretty impressed by the way that Zodiac creates a traditional emotional narrative arc out of material without any peak in action, aside from the murders that start everything, and a notoriously poor resolution. Just to let the cat out of the bag, no one is every arrested for the murders. Nor does anyone know for sure which murders should really be attributed to the Zodiac killer.
By focusing on the author of the true crime book on the Zodiac case, played by Jake Gyllenhaal in an earnest but childishly naive and foppish manner, the screenwriter garners the viewers' sympathy. We, like Gyllenhaal, are intrigued, fascinated by the seeming randomness of the killings, and perplexed by the letters and puzzles. But the middle of the film focuses on the actual police work, spread out over many years. The lead to the likely killer and his character development isn't exciting. The actor isn't creepy in a Hannibal Lector way, nor is he terrifying in a suspicious or secretive manner. He's just weird. And his trailer full of squirrels isn't as scary as it should be. Squirrels are crazy when trapped inside. They scrape up the walls and tear down curtains. They just weren't scary enough.
So all we're left with is the itch. And Jake the cutie. And he pushes his family away. And I could see what he was doing and that it was bad, but I didn't care. Chloe Sevigne was so mousy she was empty. So I didn't care that she left. I was glad that she took her sour face out of the film. His kids are cute, but I figured they understood, and it seems so, since they enjoy helping their dad with clues in the case.
But I will admit that the filmmakers made the climax and resolution work. They pulled it essentially out of thin air, but emotionally it was good. Jake follows a lead to a creepy house and I was sure terrified. Now that guy was creepy and ominous and threatening. And of course the basement was scary and there was a locked door full of tension. Following this the film follows with the publishing of the true crime book and the finale, the only living witness is found and identifies the main suspect. In titles, we learn that the suspect died just before they could interrogate him on the basis of this new evidence. But this ID gives the audience confidence that we know who done it. It feels resolved. And we learn that Jake's kids still love him, even though, presumably, his wife does not.
Not a great film, but competently filmmed by Fincher, our modern, precise, Hitchcockian auteur. And the story is intriguing because it's true, and we're all sickos fascinated by serial killers and kooks.
I was left scared and reminded that the killer lived for years after the murders, free to molest kids, go to jail and generally to live his life freely without justice for these crimes. Which then reminded me of the BTK murderer, who lived in suburban safety with a family and a community, all unaware of his horrible horrible actions. Killers do live among us, and aren't we all unpunished criminals in one way or another. Not that we're all sickos, just that our justice system is a great sieve.
By focusing on the author of the true crime book on the Zodiac case, played by Jake Gyllenhaal in an earnest but childishly naive and foppish manner, the screenwriter garners the viewers' sympathy. We, like Gyllenhaal, are intrigued, fascinated by the seeming randomness of the killings, and perplexed by the letters and puzzles. But the middle of the film focuses on the actual police work, spread out over many years. The lead to the likely killer and his character development isn't exciting. The actor isn't creepy in a Hannibal Lector way, nor is he terrifying in a suspicious or secretive manner. He's just weird. And his trailer full of squirrels isn't as scary as it should be. Squirrels are crazy when trapped inside. They scrape up the walls and tear down curtains. They just weren't scary enough.
So all we're left with is the itch. And Jake the cutie. And he pushes his family away. And I could see what he was doing and that it was bad, but I didn't care. Chloe Sevigne was so mousy she was empty. So I didn't care that she left. I was glad that she took her sour face out of the film. His kids are cute, but I figured they understood, and it seems so, since they enjoy helping their dad with clues in the case.
But I will admit that the filmmakers made the climax and resolution work. They pulled it essentially out of thin air, but emotionally it was good. Jake follows a lead to a creepy house and I was sure terrified. Now that guy was creepy and ominous and threatening. And of course the basement was scary and there was a locked door full of tension. Following this the film follows with the publishing of the true crime book and the finale, the only living witness is found and identifies the main suspect. In titles, we learn that the suspect died just before they could interrogate him on the basis of this new evidence. But this ID gives the audience confidence that we know who done it. It feels resolved. And we learn that Jake's kids still love him, even though, presumably, his wife does not.
Not a great film, but competently filmmed by Fincher, our modern, precise, Hitchcockian auteur. And the story is intriguing because it's true, and we're all sickos fascinated by serial killers and kooks.
I was left scared and reminded that the killer lived for years after the murders, free to molest kids, go to jail and generally to live his life freely without justice for these crimes. Which then reminded me of the BTK murderer, who lived in suburban safety with a family and a community, all unaware of his horrible horrible actions. Killers do live among us, and aren't we all unpunished criminals in one way or another. Not that we're all sickos, just that our justice system is a great sieve.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Things you should read:
"LaVena Johnson died in Iraq on July 19, 2005. The seemingly happy and healthy 19-year old Private First Class soldier was found dead by a gunshot wound with bruising, a dislocated shoulder, an indication that someone tried to set her body on fire, and a number of other signs including a blood trail outside of the tent she was found in. But despite all of these factors, the U.S. Army declared that her death was caused by suicide and shut the case quietly."
From feministing.com
The greater outrage
We are more aghast at Michael Vick's crimes against animals than athletes' crimes against women. And that is criminal.
Rick Morrissey, Chicago Tribune
Do you ever think that the women in abusive relationships ask for it, are gold diggers willing to live like mercenaries (I'm lookin at you, Kanye), or are idiots who deserve what they get if they won't just leave? Hmmm... because life is ever that simplistic.
From feministing.com
The greater outrage
We are more aghast at Michael Vick's crimes against animals than athletes' crimes against women. And that is criminal.
Rick Morrissey, Chicago Tribune
Do you ever think that the women in abusive relationships ask for it, are gold diggers willing to live like mercenaries (I'm lookin at you, Kanye), or are idiots who deserve what they get if they won't just leave? Hmmm... because life is ever that simplistic.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
The New Science of Netflix Addiction
I hang on my postman's every step. It's true. I curse him when he doesn't show. I've written letters, angry letters, to the post office snitching on him.
I check my queues (yes, queues - plural) and make adjustments several times a day. The reason I have several queues is that you can only have 500 titles in one queue. So I created other family members. There are just too many movies to see. They're constantly coming out, pouring out faster and faster as technology changes. And then there's the backlog of classics, historically relevant or cult films that have influenced the films I love. It goes on and on, like an endless waterfall. (Jonathan Rosenbaum, a film critic for the Reader, makes this point in a couple of places but particularly in Essential Cinema: On the Necessity of Film Cannons.)
And I've gotten my friends to match up with me on the site and now I can stalk them and their movie choices. I find it fascinating what they think is brilliant or ass. I love the list of films that we all agree on. No.1 is Monty Python and the Holy Grail (brilliant!) And then there are the comment debates. I love being opinionated and riling up others. I find we're all too complacent and blah and unfortunately sometimes an assinine statement can be quite enlightening. Assuming of course that we're all adults and willing to admit that we can be wrong and be proud of our endless process of maturation. An unexamined life and all that...
So a great deal of my entries are going to be about all the films I rent.
I will also make this disclaimer. I am deeply saddened by my contributions to the demise of the movie theater. I've got a big projector at home and a giant screen so I can watch really big pictures at home. I do lose out on the beauty of film, but for all the money I'm saving, and I'm one of the many living paycheck to paycheck, there's not enough remorse to make me sacrifice any more financially. I don't have cable, so it's all through DVD rental. I wish that for all the moping that critics make about the mainstream audience abandoning theaters and watching little pictures, that more would encourage people to buy projectors and watch movies on the walls of their bedrooms. It's bomb. I know too, that I'm contributing to the every progressing modern isolation that began with the radio and was cemented by the television, but I can smoke and drink at my movie theater and did I mention that I can watch the big screen from my bed? Yeah. It's bomb.
Aight, I'll have much more to say about my netflix jones in the future. I'm bout to watch Dr. Who season 3 from my bed from a burned cd copy of a friends. All the good side of technology. May I be aware enough to combat the dark side.
In the beginning
So I've created this blog in order to chit chat about all the movies I watch and my various associated opinions and passions. Lord knows I need to channel all those hours into something purposeful. But I'm hoping this'll be a good way to develop those ideas and passions by flushing them out, exposing them to the world (that is priviledged enough to afford or gain access to the internet), and hopefully connect with others of a similar mind or not.
I enjoy alot of entertainment, but I'm willing to throw myself into the fire and watch something that may not fulfill the nagging desires of my short attention span. Hell, I'll sit through anything. I've seen Salo. I made it all the way through Dragonheart and the Dreamcatcher. There's very little I won't expose myself to. I'm generally pretty curious. But that's not to say that I won't trash talk the garbage afterwards. But I'm hoping to develop some constructive critical skills. I'm too intuitive and informed by a modern sensibility.
So bear with me if you disagree with something I write. I'd appreciate the benefit of the doubt. I'll try to be open to other ideas. I do think that syncreticism is possible through dialogue. We can all come to understand each other. That doesn't equal agreement. I hold my beliefs very passionately. I've come to them through a fair amount of thought and purpose.
So here goes.
I enjoy alot of entertainment, but I'm willing to throw myself into the fire and watch something that may not fulfill the nagging desires of my short attention span. Hell, I'll sit through anything. I've seen Salo. I made it all the way through Dragonheart and the Dreamcatcher. There's very little I won't expose myself to. I'm generally pretty curious. But that's not to say that I won't trash talk the garbage afterwards. But I'm hoping to develop some constructive critical skills. I'm too intuitive and informed by a modern sensibility.
So bear with me if you disagree with something I write. I'd appreciate the benefit of the doubt. I'll try to be open to other ideas. I do think that syncreticism is possible through dialogue. We can all come to understand each other. That doesn't equal agreement. I hold my beliefs very passionately. I've come to them through a fair amount of thought and purpose.
So here goes.
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