New YouTube Videos

Hey guys,

I've put a few videos together of the past couple weeks - because, it is, you know, my job - and I figured I'd show you a couple. The first is the first song from a concert I helped shoot that I'm editing for Zach Hendricks. This song is called "So Slow." The other songs will go up as I get to 'em.

Here's the link if you have trouble.

The second is a video intro I threw together for the Loft. The instructions were "shoot a shot of yourself as a defendant and then another one with you as the prosecutor. Just do it in front of a blank wall somewhere. Also, it's due tomorrow." However, whenever I get a slightly more wide-open opportunity like this, it's more fun to try to push it a little further.

Here's the link if you have trouble.

Enjoy.

Things are looking up

When I first moved into my new apartment, I complained a lot about it. I had a right. No A/C, no stove, no fridge, broken toilet, broken sink, broken lock on the door, trash everywhere, etc. I was pissed, and I think I had a right to be. And my apartment complex adopted an incredibly laissez-faire attitude about the whole thing, passing the whole thing off, ignoring it as much as I would let them. But finally I got a stove and an fridge and an A/C and a lock and a sink and a toilet in, and so even though everyone was telling me I should just move out, I stuck around.

Well, I should've listened.

Since we moved in about six weeks ago, we have had:

1. A shooting in our parking lot. I wasn't there for this one, but Chris called me to let me know to be careful on my way home. Believe me, I was - I even had him unlock the door as I was pulling in, so that I wouldn't have to spend any time fumbling for keys.
2. Domestic disputes. Our next door neighbors are a somewhat troubled live-in couple who have about six kids who live with them. Every now and then they'll get in a fight and and one of them will call the cops, or one of them will come over and have us call the cops for them. By the time the cops arrive, the dispute is always taken care of, so they'll inform the cops that "nobody called them." As a result of this "prank calling" on our part, the cops don't like us much. On the other hand, the couple next door are our best friends at the complex by far.
3. A dead body in our parking lot. I couldn't go to work one morning because when I went out the door, the way out was blocked by police cars. Our landlady told me that there was nothing to worry about, and that the man had died of natural causes and wasn't a resident. This seemed a bit callous, and also probably untrue, since this didn't explain why there were 8 patrol cars and a detective examining the scene of this natural death. Our next door neighbor said he thought he'd been shot, but by then it was mid-morning, and so of course he'd already had a few.
4. A lot of angry men sitting in their vans staking out our apartment complex. I don't know who they're waiting for, I'm just glad it's not me.
5. A lack of good parking spaces.
6. Groups of brutish looking twenty-somethings pounding on our door, looking for "Luis." We don't know who Luis is, but we wish he'd stop giving people our address and telling them it's his.
7. A mass arrest. This afternoon, Chris arrived home to discover a group of undercover cops had come and arrested a good portion of the neighbors. We don't know what they did.

So it's been an interesting month and a half. What's funny about this is that my mom wanted me to move away from my old apartment because it was so dangerous, and I lived there a year and there was only one murder, plus my mailbox and car getting broken into a couple times. So really, in comparison, it was a very safe environment, a veritable Seahaven. How naive we were.

Still, maybe things will get better. Maybe this mass arrest is a good thing - it might solve some of the problems mentioned above. If nothing else, it should at least solve the parking situation.

Review: The Kingdom (2007)

I’m not a film critic.

I mean, well, I’m not a real one. I’m certainly very critical of films, but I’m no Pauline Kael. I’m not even Peter Travers. No one, in all likelihood, is going to ask me to replace Roger Ebert anytime soon (scratch that – the guest hosts they’ve been having on that show seem to be selected a bit randomly. Wait, a bit randomly? It’s like they’re pulling names out of Men’s Fitness and Cheerleading Today’s mailing lists and putting pancake makeup on them. The E! Channel finds more qualified and substantial hosts, and they do most of their shopping right outside of Dr. 90210’s waiting room).

But I digress. My point is that despite my insubstantial writing resume, I consider my a bit of a good study (fine, mediocre savant) on movie criticism. As you might’ve noticed if you’ve been to this site more than once or twice, I have an endless interest in What Critics Love and What Critics Hate. Why have they gathered fawningly around one movie while ignoring, sometimes glaringly, a similar one? Why do they call some movies with $35 million box office grosses “a triumphant success” and others “a financial disaster?” You’d be more than hard-pressed to get one to admit it, but it usually has more to it than just the cost it took to make the movie.

Most people feel they already know the answers to these questions, giving one of three answers:
1. Movie critics are staunch liberals touting films that coincide with their way of thinking.
2. Movie critics are overly-educated intellectual bigots intent on filling the world with their snobbery.
3. Some combination of 1 and 2.

It’s unfair, of course. But like most things, there’s a grain of truth to it, it’s just that it’s rare to see a real example where the critical consensus is so obviously gathered in one corner that it becomes quite obvious what’s going on. And this brings us to The Kingdom.

Reviews have been startlingly mixed for a movie as well-directed as The Kingdom is. It has a lot of things critics like: relevant, politically-charged subject matter, a jittery documentary style carried off with great aplomb, certain actors (the four leads are always great favorites, along with critical darlings like Jeremy Piven, Kyle Chandler, and Paradise Now’s Ashraf Barhom and Ali Suliman), and the urge to dig a little deeper into the subject matter than a standard popcorn flick would. But maybe that urge wasn’t strong enough to win them over.

It’s a stereotype, sure, but critics love “films.” They love movies that turn genres on their heads, or that seem willing to leave the action set pieces at the door and just focus on issues for a while. Not many people are willing to see these sorts of movies, because, frankly, action set pieces are kind of fun and if they’ve paid good money to see a comedy, they usually like to see an actual comedy and not a black mockumentary/drama disguised in comedy clothes. Critics hate this about people. They want them to not just like these movies, but also be well-versed in the backstory of the movie so it can be discussed afterwards. “I thought we could discuss the differences I’m Not There presents between the real and the public Bob Dylan - ten minutes on Wikipedia wouldn’t kill you?” For this reason, movie critics are not fun people to go to movie with.

The Kingdom is not a "film." It is not a deep thinker whose meanings will unfold before you as the weeks since you watched the movie pass. You will not remark in ten years how The Kingdom changed your whole view on U.S relations with Saudi Arabia (well, I guess that depends on how stupid your opinions are right now). But it’s also not without social commentary or political gravitas. That’s just not its main intention.

This annoys critics. Critics love context, meaning behind films, particularly something applicable to a particular political situation of the day – and yes, one that perhaps disparages the current U.S. President. What’s ironic is that while they appreciate subtext so deeply, they’re always quick to place these movies into the broadest possible category. The Kingdom has been repeatedly compared unfavorably with Syriana, a movie filled with politically-charged subtext. But critics never really appreciated that Syriana was a broader statement on decades of mercenary U.S.-Saudi relations, they saw it more as an criticism of an oil-thirsty regime. What’s more, by comparing the two movies, it only reveals their prejudice of putting all movies about Saudis into one box, the equivalent of comparing The Color Purple with Soul Plane.

Syriana is a movie about oil in which the subject matter is much more important than the story line, which is why such long periods go by in the movie in which nothing happens. The Kingdom is a movie about a terrorist in which a bunch of American hardworking good guys fight off American bureaucracy in order to travel to Saudi Arabia and join the Saudi hardworking good guys, fight off Saudi bureaucracy, and then go fight the actual Saudi terrorists.

The Kingdom is not without real world-changing type intention, but its real intention is intense, gripping filmmaking, which is frankly a lesson the makers of Syriana could have learned. It is neither cheap popcorn fun nor political commentary, but a happy combination of the two, bringing the thrill of political drama to the visceral fun of a bullets-flying action flick. It elevates its genre – not a lot, not poignantly or gracefully, but it strains for greater things, greater truths, while still allowing its heroes to chuck grenades around without discretion. And critics hate that. They wish the movie would be one or the other - either mindless fun or deliberate political commentary, ideally anti-war commentary. And the idea of having all these soldiers come in and shoot guns around and prove to be the good guys - well, that's just not acceptable. This is our modern world and our modern war, and if you don't have something mean to say, well, don't say anything at all. A movie that finishes with fairly positive impression of U.S. military figures? Well, that's just jingoism. In fact, critics have even been using the word "jingoism," which is code for "a political opinion so far unlike my own it must be idiotic and dangerous."

Frankly, I could use a lot more movies like The Kingdom at the theater these days. I could use some good guys.

And, for the record, I really like Peter Travers.

Wonderfalls

I've started watching "Wonderfalls" on DVD. It's marvelous.

You could always Wikipedia it if you wanted, but I'll give you a brief history of the show: it was a quirky drama/comedy (I've sworn off the word "dramedy," I suggest you do the same) that premiered in 2004 to solid critical acclaim and almost no viewership. The "Save Our Show" campaign started the night the pilot aired, which is awfully early even in these treacherous days of viewer-starved networks. The show made it through its 13-episode run but wasn't picked up again, which is a shame because it's one of the best and most original shows I've ever seen. But here's the thing:

I remember when the show came out. I remember seeing the promos airing, pitching the show to the public, trying to pique our interest. and I distinctly remember thinking "that show looks horrible! Who would want to watch that? That show is going to get canceled so quickly!" I even remember being glad when I heard that it was getting canceled, thinking "good riddance." And this is without ever watching any part of any episode of the show. That's how bad the promos were.

This got me thinking. If a show this good could look so bad, how is anyone to ever to know if a show is good or not? The only way we discover shows is by these advertisements. The timetable for keeping shows on the air is far too short now - the ballyhooed "Smith" lasted 4 episodes last fall - for word of mouth to spread and get people to watch them. These advertisements are the only methods we have for discovering shows, and yet the networks seem to put such little work into some of them. The big shows get huge, flashy promos played incessantly each episode, smaller shows are lucky to get their promos played at all. I used to work for an executive producer who sent endless memos to the head of the network (out of caution, I promise I won't mention which one), pointing out that while it was rare to see a promo for his show at any point during the week, promos for "CSI: Miami" (alright, that might have given away the network there) played literally every commercial break. They still do, in fact. Turn on CBS right now (I screwed that oath, didn't I?).

The fact is that if a network doesn't know how to sell a show - and with most clever, thinky shows that can't be boiled down to a 8-second spot, they don't have any clue - it doesn't have a chance. NBC knows how to sell "Las Vegas" (shots of dice bouncing on craps table! shots of girls in party dresses grinding on each other! shots of whichever current washed up celebrity is guesting! Roll title graphic!), but not "Studio 60" ("I don't know how to condense six minutes of clever repartee into this ad, boss." "Just put in the last two lines, and we'll add a stinger so it sounds like a punchline. We've got to keep moving on this so we can focus on the 3-D effects for the 'Deal or No Deal' spot.")

In the past few years, we've lost "Firefly," "Arrested Development," and "Freaks and Geeks" without ever noticing what we'd lost until too late, because the shows never manged to find the audience they needed - and deserved. In a few months, we'll probably lose "30 Rock" and "Friday Night Lights" for the same reason (though props to NBC for sticking with 'em this long). I just wish we could find a way to alleviate the problem. Because until further notice, we've placed all our entertainment choices in the hands of the advertisers. And that's just not right.

Michael Vick

I caught a good deal of ESPN's town hall meeting about Michael Vick, held in a large auditorium in Atlanta. The crowd that turned out was about 85% in support of Vick, draped in No. 7 jerseys and "Free Michael Vick" shirts, and quite vocal in their support of the disgraced superstar. The panel announced an ESPN poll currently showed that about 40% of people thought Vick had been set up to take a fall in some way, whether because of race or celebrity or the need of a scapegoat or some combination of the three. A few audience members suggested that if Vick hadn't been a rich black football player, it's unlikely that PETA would have targeted him so forcefully (these people have clearly never met any members of PETA), but these suggestions were met with loud cheers.

More intriguingly, the black members in the audience loudly booed the two black members of the panel, who had (apparently) voiced opinions condemning Vick’s actions. One of these was Terence Moore, who had written a number of columns expressing his disappointment and anger at Vick. Audience questions reflected a deep vindictive streak towards Moore for this, feeling he’d abandoned the black community. A friend of Vick’s carried a message from the embattled quarterback, who had said the only thing he was guilty of was being too good a friend, which I thought was an awfully forward thing to say for someone who had just confessed to dogfighting, but this was again greeted with cheers.

Now, up to this point, I had been in agreement that the Vick scandal had grown out of proportion to the crime. But since everyone can agree that simply allowing animal mistreatment is not something anyone can support, regardless of whether Vick was there to actually sic the dogs on each other, it gets easy for people to gang together against Vick. But how could anyone reasonably say that Vick’s been set up? He confessed. As Moore noted, "It's not like there's a grassy knoll or a second gunman. There was one gunman in this case. It was Michael Vick." There's nothing like a JFK conspiracy theory reference to clear things up.

Just as I was about to switch sides again and rejoin the anti-Vick crowd, Selena Roberts, for the first time in her life, said something that changed my mind. She pointed out that the dogfighting articles about Vick have ranged from commenting about how he’s switched from cornrows to an afro, to wondering how smart he is, to all sorts of topics you couldn’t get away with commenting on in any situation other than this one. It suddenly occurred to me that it might tough for anyone to look at the breadth of the articles and not begin to wonder if maybe race is starting to play a role.

In fact, all of the really high-profile sports legal cases of my lifetime have delved deeply into America’s sensitivity about race, from O.J. Simpson to Kobe Bryant. And anyone who thinks that the only cases that rise to the surface are ones where people are looking to take potshots at the black community are welcome to spend some time with the Duke lacrosse team this season (by the way, props to the NCAA for adding a year of eligibility to each of those players’ careers. It is, quite simply, the least you can do). This issue is deeper than that.

I don’t have answers, obviously – I’d consider myself quite an asshole if I thought I could solve any racial issues by typing up a two-page blog post - but it bears considering. The fact remains, will always remain, that race will continue to insinuate itself throughout the sporting community anytime something like this comes to light. And it’s time to admit that our two warring instincts – denying race is an issue each time, or making it the only issue – are both wrong.

Look, what Vick did was wrong, and newspaper writers have been right to denounce him outright for it, regardless of what race he or they are. But that is never an excuse to take it one step further, to make comments that in any other situation would be considered inappropriate. Even as disgraced as he is, Vick supporters are right to feel insulted that anyone would view this as a time to make a comment on the significance of black hairstyles or snide comments about black intelligence in this situation. It’s cheap, racist opportunism, and it should never be condoned.

But neither should Vick’s actions. We have a responsibility to ferret out racism from the debate on Vick’s sentencing because it unfairly clouds a clear right-and-wrong issue, and allowing to happen in this situation makes it okay in other situations. And that’s something no one should ever feel comfortable letting happen.