Best. Movie Review. EVER.

Well, maybe not. But this is the funniest review I've read in quite a while. One of the great things about Pajiba is the unrestrained bitterness displayed by the reviewer who draws the short straw and has to review something like Little Man or, in this case, Epic Movie. When Watoosa and I were first assaulted by commercials for this steaming pile of cinematic crap, my first thought was, "I can't wait until Pajiba reviews it." They didn't disappoint.

For people who are incensed by the execrable movies churned out by Hollywood like so much offal, even Pajiba's review titles can be therapeutic. Here are some of the funnier titles they've used for their reviews:

Without a Paddle--"Without a Plot"
Let's Go to Prison!--"Let's Not and Say We Did"
We Are Marshall!--"We! Are! Nauseated!"
Sky High--"No, It's not the New Method Man Movie"
Santa Claus 3: The Escape Clause--"Get Bent, Fat Man"
Pauly Shore Is Dead--"If Only Wishing Made It So"
Annapolis--"Why Doesn't Iceman Like Me? Did Goose Really Have to Die?"

and my personal favorite:

Little Man--"Someone, Please, Hit Me in the Face with an Ax"

For those of you who can handle salty language, this one is funny, too.

One for the Blue Staters

In the interest of fairness, I’ll also draw your attention to this video that Reason linked to. Every week, they have “Drug Propaganda Thursday.” This week’s entry is a mashup of President and First Lady Reagan’s address to the nation about the war on drugs. The video and sound quality are quite low, but it’s good for a chuckle.

It's George Romero's World--We're Just Livin' In It

Reason online has posted an interesting article about the politics of zombie movies. I’ve not been a huge fan of the zombie genre, although I’ll take zombies over vampires any day of the week. Still, I think Night of the Living Dead is quite possibly the scariest movie I’ve ever seen. It's a great example of a film that accomplishes great effect with so little to draw on.

The article is thought provoking and funny, although a bit long. Earlier today, they accompanied it with this picture of Hilary Clinton. It looks a bit…er, touched up. Or maybe she really is a zombie and keeps that part of her life private.

Unedited and poorly thought out philosophical musing of the day*

Today I came across a post that challenges a lot of my thinking about human nature and cognitive/psychological capacities. Here’s a key paragraph:

Back to this nature-fulfillment business. Many folks seem to believe in “callings,” or nature-fulfilling activities. Maybe your calling is to make beautiful music on the piano. But it’s not like there are pianos in the wild, sprouting from the ground under the baobab trees. In a possible world without pianos, where would you be? Is the piano just a specification of a general to-be-fulfilled nature, a general naturally defined set of begging-to-be-realized potentials just hanging around in some kind of waiting room of the “self” (or subpersonal animal)? It seems doubtful. It seems more likely that the piano is an opportunity for a previously undreamt identity-shaping—capacity-shaping—commitment. There is no kind of personal nature that mastering the piano fulfills without pianos.

I think the last sentence would be better expressed as: “There is no kind of personal nature that mastering the piano fulfills and that exists even in the absence of pianos.” Later, he suggests that we do have such capacities, but they get added in as we undergo various experiences. The whole thing is here.

I don’t think he successfully refutes the Aristotelian/Kantian/Whateverian conception. It seems to me that the pianist finds playing the piano a fulfillment (or perfection or actualization) of a number of innate capacities: from fine motor skills to a general ability to recognize and appreciate beauty. In addition, the pianist discovers a substantial degree of subjective happiness when he or she fulfills these capacities. But the post raises the interesting question of the extent to which our mapping out of the psyche’s capacities is surreptitiously shaped by contingent facts about human history—e.g., the fact that we have developed pianos.

It also raises interesting questions about “callings.” Assuming people speak of their calling without having literally been “called” by a higher power, does their usage of the term amount to a self-deceptive way of simply reporting satisfaction or pleasure in what they’re doing? For example, I sometimes refer to philosophy as my calling, but all I mean by that is that (a) I enjoy it, (b) I think I can make myself of use to others by doing it, and (c) I’m willing to try to do it for money as long as the opportunity presents itself. Since this is all I mean, I rarely use the term, and I’m OK with that. But for those people who do use it to describe themselves, does it not usually serve to give them a false sense of significance? That is, it allows them to believe (wrongly) that their choice is in line either with the precise will of a deity or with the ultimate order of the cosmos, when in fact they’re just responding to neurostimuli? Lots of Christians I’ve known speak of their calling in a way that amounts to an attempt to either rationalize their individual choices or endow them with greater significance than they probably have (I remember hearing one girl avow that “The Lord wanted me to move to California;” we should all be so lucky). I hadn't thought of there being a secular analogue to this.

*UPDATE: OK, I had to edit this a little bit, it was driving me crazy.

Notable Netflix, 2006 (Part Deux: Boogaloo Electrique)

The Squid and the Whale: There’s a reason this film feels like a Wes Anderson project: it’s written Noah Baumbach, who co-wrote The Royal Tennenbaums and The Life Aquatic. The way he develops the characters and the feel of some of the dialogue show this connection, but The Squid and the Whale tries (successfully) to be much more realistic. It portrays a dysfunctional family falling apart. There’s no way you can make a film like that without it being tragic, and this movie is. But there are also funny parts, too, and they not only temper the sadness but make the story feel less like a story and more like a record of real life. That is, a record of one person’s (Baumbach’s) real life—thank God it wasn’t mine. I’ve never been a Jeff Daniels fan (has anyone?), but he’s quite good in this film.

The Dinner Game (Le Dîner des cons): This is the closest thing to French slapstick I’ve ever seen. A group of snooty Parisians hold a regular dinner party, and each one tries to bring the stupidest guest they can find. The film focuses on Pierre and his guest, François, who is sure to prove himself “king of the idiots.” Unfortunately for Pierre, his plan backfires as François’ bumbling stupidity makes a mess of Pierre’s life before they can even get to the party. At first, I didn’t think it was going to be funny—François is such a sincere, sweet character that I expected to be put off by the sophisticates’ mocking him. But Pierre gets his comeuppance, et plus! It’s hilarious. Apparently, there’s an English version in the works starring Sacha Baron Cohen (aka Borat). See the original first.

Duma: If there’s one thing Watoosa likes, it’s baby animals. Especially, baby felines. She still jumps up and down and breaks into spasms when I remind her of our visit to the San Diego Zoo, where we saw some baby cheetahs innocently sleeping on their little beds. So when she found out about this movie, which is pretty much all about a boy and his cheetah, she wasted no time putting it on the queue. There’s nothing really remarkable about it; it’s just a well-made, family-friendly movie. So when you need something to watch with the kids, this will be a good choice. It’s rated PG, but that’s for “mild adventure trauma.” But even for grown-ups, this makes for a nice change of pace.

Daniel Deronda: This is a television adaptation of a novel by George Eliot, who is better known for Silas Marner, which I believe was originally subtitled A Novel So Boring it will Make You Eat Your Own Fingers. Suffice it to say, I found Daniel Deronda more interesting. The running theme is the orphaned Deronda’s wrestling with his identity—individual, familial, and ethnic. I found it absorbing. Romola Garai gives a typically fine performance and her character is very interesting, but Hugh Bonneville steals the show with his portrayal of the wonderfully malevolent Henleigh Grandcourt.

Insert "Red State" Joke Here

Here's a map of all the states I've entered at one point or another. It includes a couple where I drove through without stopping or had a layover at an airport. Next month, I'll be able to add another state in the extreme Northeast.

You can make your own map here. You can also make one that shows all of the countries you've visited, but mine has too much white on it to post. If you really want to kill some time, fill in the map that shows the individual counties you've visited.

Notable Netflix, 2006 (part 1)

Even though they’ve throttled my sister and brother-in-law pretty badly as of late, I’m still pretty high on Netflix. The movie options it gives us absolutely dwarf Blockbuster. Here are a few highlights from our queue in the past year.

Grand Prix: The plot of this movie is fairly standard, but what makes the film so impressive are the racing scenes. You get four long race sequences, and each one is absolutely riveting, so much so that you’ll be appreciative of the film’s 179 minute running time. It’s a beautiful record of the golden age of Formula 1 racing, and they filmed on Grand Prix courses just before or after actual races. The actors did much of their own driving (James Garner apparently had the makings of a good driver), and the cinematography alternates between cockpit level shots that make you feel the road and aerial shots that give the races a sense of grandeur. This movie also introduced split-screens, and that technique gives it a groovy, sixties feel without compromising its coolness. In the year after this movie’s release, several of the racing advisors would be killed on some of these same tracks. In response, Formula 1 instituted safety measures that reduced casualties, but also (according to some) reduced the excitement, too. So it’s probably impossible to recreate the race sequences nowadays.

Grizzly Man: Herzog’s documentary got a lot of buzz, but we didn’t catch it in theaters. I ended up liking it far more than I anticipated. I initially had the impression that it was just a voyeuristic look at an environmentalist nut-job. But Timothy Treadwell was a fascinating person, and Herzog tells his story in a way that is respectful while also being critical. One of the most interesting things about the film is the way Herzog contrasts Treadwell’s view of the cosmos as an organic, harmonious whole with Herzog’s view of the universe as a violent and chaotic place.

The Harold Lloyd Comedy Collection: I’d never heard of Harold Lloyd until Watoosa and I caught the last 3/4ths of Speedy on TCM one day. At first, we watched because we thought it was corny. Before long we were won over. Lloyd was one of the big three silent film comic actors, along with Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. Lloyd’s career emphasized quantity over quality, but his good films are hilarious and often feature some amazing stunts, most of which he did himself. Lloyd often played mild-mannered characters who have to improvise crazy schemes to get out of scrapes or to win the hand of a sweetheart (who was usually played by the woman Lloyd eventually married). Watching these films gives you a sense of how inventive and daring Hollywood was in the early days. Speedy is one of his best. It starts a bit slow, but it finishes with a fantastic chase scene through Manhattan. I’m still not sure if they bothered to get permission to film it. At one point, Harold’s streetcar crashes into a bridge support; it was unintentional, but it looked so good that they left it in. Babe Ruth makes an appearance, too. My favorite of his films, though, is Safety Last. It climaxes in a sequence in which Harold has to climb the side of a building and ends up hanging from the minute hand of a giant clock (it’s one of the most famous images in silent film). Even today, it’s gripping, if you’ll pardon the pun. Also worth watching is Ask Father.

Brick: Like Grizzly Man, this was a film that got quite a lot of buzz but that we didn’t manage to catch in the theater. It’s a surprisingly good attempt to make a high school film with all the trappings of film noir. The dialog is rapid-fire (and sometimes even non-sensical?). But it’s great the way it plays with the conventions of teen-oriented movies and the detective films of the 30’s and 40’s. I liked Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and it features a small role for Emilie de Ravin (Claire from Lost, sans Aussie accent). Coincidentally, we saw this just a few days before watching Veronica Mars, which also adds touches of noir to a high school setting, but with a different feel.

Football gloating

Since my friend Kevin has been talking smack about the Buckeyes, I'll just take this moment to say "Good on ya!" to the Buckeyes. It's not easy to submit to a Southern-style beatdown like that, not to mention on national television. It showed character when you decided to come back out for the second half. Really. And after 100+ years of football without beating an SEC team...well, you can always try again next year.

Tonight's game should put an end to some of the SEC bashing out there. It's true that the SEC is weak this year. Florida, the conference champion, won consistently but not flashily. Auburn and Georgia performed below expectations (although the Tigers managed to win 11 games and faced a lot of key injuries without an open date). Still, the SEC sent more teams to bowls this year, and it's the only major conference to have a winning bowl record (I'm not counting the Big East because they only played one ranked team), and two of our three losses were by a field goal.

To me, that says the SEC is the nation's toughest conference and the best--even in a down year. And I'll go ahead and congratulate myself and my other Auburn peeps on our being the one team that managed to beat the national champions this year. War Eagle!

Hilarious Fight Scene #2

Also a nice display of fake-looking gore, but the choreography has to be the lamest of all time. Rrrrrraaahhh!

Hilarious Fight Scene #1

Awesome special effects! Keep watching to the end!

Christmas by the Numbers

5: number of days on which one of us traveled by road or air (out of 6 days of Christmas vacation)

5: number of cancelled flights between Watoosa and me

8: number of airports visited between the two of us

9464: air miles (counted twice when we were traveling together)

1141: road miles (counted twice when we were traveling together)

5: number of seconds after my niece wiped her runny nose on my cheek that I was able to set her down and wash away the trail of slimy mucous

10: approximate number of years I must wait for her to enter the inevitable “awkward phase” and enact my revenge by telling her little boyfriend that story (plus others, some of which I might even make up)

4: number of bathrooms in the St. Louis airport I entered, only to find they were full

0: number of bathrooms in the St. Louis airport that were not an unholy affront to civilization and human dignity

1: number of times my friend Ryan violated Swiss neutrality by sticking his foot through the gate of their embassy as we passed by

3 to 1: approximate ratio of the size of the Swiss ambassador’s house to the actual embassy building

4: number of guests who had smelled smoke and fled to the downstairs lobby of my D. C. hotel as I waited there for my airport shuttle

0: number of hotel employees who seemed to have realized that the place was on fire.

2: number of fire trucks unloading their gear as I boarded the shuttle

10: approximate number of minutes after I left for the airport that the hotel was evacuated

2: number of hours guests waited to go back to their rooms

4: number of time-saving, selfservice check-in kiosks at Dulles

100: percentage of said kiosks placed right at the ticket counter, where they were covered up by people doing business with the ticket agents, making them pretty much useless

35: approximate number of minutes I pointlessly waited in line because of kiosk placement

0.5: number of minutes after opening that I arrived at the airport’s Dunkin’ Donuts

1: number of brutal tyrants whose execution was being covered on the TV as I ate my purchases from said donut shop

2.5: hours of sleep I got the night before leaving D. C. to come home.

4: degrees off the perpendicular that my emergency row seat would “recline” (when I pushed real hard)

Infinity: number of times I was unpleasantly jostled by fellow passengers as they headed toward the lavatory on my homeward flight from DC to LA.

Infinity + 1: the number of obscenities elicited from me by said jostling.

40: approximate number of minutes I wasted on the inflight movie (“Neverwas”) before realizing it was complete cinematic crap.

1: sigh of relief let out when I got home