I wrote this as though I were being interviewed. So...yeah.
Movies:
Eve's Bayou "My favorite movie ever. It is absolutely, perfectly done, from the pacing to the cinematography to the mood of the time period. Jurnee Smollett's performance is masterful and should have been recognized by the Academy."
Terminator 2: Judgement Day "What I consider one of the best movies ever made. It's much more than an action movie and anyone who doesn't realize that is missing out on on so many amazing things. It actually took me years and years to realize there are three terminators in the film, not just two."
Forrest Gump "It always moves me to dwell on the contrast between Forrest's life--full of great luck and major events and success--and Jenny's, because her childhood abuse led her down such a sad, destructive path. I love how the story never shies away from how arbitrary life can seem."
Books:
Return of the Primitive, Ayn Rand "She was the perfect Aquarian! A woman who never shied away from stating her opinion loud and clear, who created her own philosophy (Objectivism), and who stuck to her beliefs and wrote passionately about the Truth at the dawn of the Postmodern era. This book of essays reflects all of that."
The Giver, Lois Lowry "This book is about a future utopia, and all that we had to leave behind in order to achieve and sustain it. It forces the reader to think about what they consider most important in life and society, and shows just how much diversity and chance are necessary evils. Really, really profound the way it's told. And, it's a 'children's book'."
Chaos and Harmony, Trinh Xuan Thuan "Interestingly, he never really shows how closely related the two things are, and only hints at how they are just different forms of the same thing. But he does his best to illiminute quantum theory, and even lends credence to the oft-discredited idea of Platonic forms."
Albums:
Trouble, Ray LaMontagne "One of those perfect albums, really atmospheric, intimate. A great folk-soul acoustic song-cycle. He may never top it, and hasn't so far with his subsequent albums (not for lack of trying)."
Neptune City, Nicole Atkins "This album has its own atmosphere, too, to the point where sometimes I get uncomfortable listening to it. It is so perfectly what it is. Somehow she updated mod '60s pop without ever losing the past, so it's this synthesis of old and new with original melodies that sound familiar the first time...it's so hard to describe what a wonder this album is."
Midnight Boom, The Kills "Dirty garage band-type rock played by a duo who are so hip it hurts. But as in-your-face and, dare I say, cacophonous as their music can be, I know one thing: they know what the hell they're doing."
Apps:
Unblock Me "This was the first app I got really addicted to. You have these wood blocks trapped in a square (your screen), and then there's a red block, and you have to move the blocks all around to get the red one through the little doorway on the righthand wall. It ain't easy. But the thrill of success is hard to match."
LineUp "Can't even explain how addicted I am to this. There are lines of little colored squares that keep getting added on to; you have to keep the lines from hitting the top of the screen. You can only tap areas of three or more of the same color to make them disappear. I really do feel like some poor animal in an experiment when I play this. But I can't stop."
Word Warp "You get a six-letter word, scrambled, and have to find all the words within it. If you don't find the whole word, you don't go on to the next level. For the lingual-minded."
2.23.2010
2.10.2010
When things go terribly wrong: Human Body Edition.
Lately I've been hearing about physical disorders that people unfortunately suffer, and it's pretty fascinating reading up on them. Granted, the reading is courtesy of Wikipedia, and I know that it's not the most reliable source, but then again, I'm not getting paid.
Today it was Kleine-Levin syndrome, dubbed "sleeping beauty syndrome." Read the wiki article here. Sufferers experience episodes anywhere from every couple of years to every couple of weeks. They will simply sleep the days away, some for as long as two weeks, only waking to eat, use the bathroom, and maybe shower. When they are awake for that precious hour or so, they appear spaced-out, childlike, and obviously sluggish. Some will exhibit a voracious appetite. Some will exhibit a voracious sexual appetite. All in all, it's a fascinating disease, one that usually appears spontaneously in the second decade of life and cures itself before old age. Doctors don't know why it happens - which always bugs me - but I want to learn more about this. I think we can actually learn a lot from it, from the behaviors exhibited when sufferers are in their waking mode.
A few weeks ago I heard that the son of a friend of a friend (sorry) had passed away due to complications from Prader-Willi syndrome. This disease usually claims the sufferers before they are twenty-one years of age. They have mild mental retardation, small hands and feet, are chronic overeaters and are, logically, oftentimes obese from a young age. Interestingly they don't actually die from the overeating, it's just a major symptom. Anyway, it's very sad that they must die so young.
(According to the Wiki article, the defect that causes Prader-Willi is similar to that which causes Angelman syndrome. When I read up on that, it was interesting to see that Angelman's is essentially a form of mental retardation--general happiness, a grasp of only the most basic skills, very late potty-training, a vocabulary of maybe five words, tops. It was interesting that the article never said it was mental retardation.)
You may have heard of Desiree Jennings, the "beautiful cheerleader" (they have to mention she's beautiful or, I guess, we won't feel sorry for her) who got the H1N1 vaccination and, ten days later, fell victim to dystonia. If you google her name you'll find videos. She suffers from chronic, manic muscle spasms that make it impossible for her move, let alone walk or perform the most basic daily functions. The only time she is able to move normally is when she is walking backward, or running. (Argh--think how much more we could learn about the human body just by studying why that is!) It even affected her speech. Now, I just saw a video today of her giving an update, and she was able to speak normally again (although she sounded very, very weary), and apparently she is being helped somewhat with treatment. It's not something that will ever go away, but she's not the only sufferer and there are things patients can try to get it under control.
Lastly, there are people who are actually born with no eyes. Specifically, no eye tissue. It's a condition called anophthalmia and while, in the video I saw, you can see this tiny, tubelike [pupil? retina?] just poking through the slit in the eyelids, essentially there is no eye there.
Sometimes I am just blown away by how intricate and fragile the human body is; how inconceivable that it all just came together on its own. (No complex machine/organism ever can) It makes it easier to understand just how quickly or early something can go wrong, though it doesn't take away the great sadness at knowing so many people in the world have to suffer.
Today it was Kleine-Levin syndrome, dubbed "sleeping beauty syndrome." Read the wiki article here. Sufferers experience episodes anywhere from every couple of years to every couple of weeks. They will simply sleep the days away, some for as long as two weeks, only waking to eat, use the bathroom, and maybe shower. When they are awake for that precious hour or so, they appear spaced-out, childlike, and obviously sluggish. Some will exhibit a voracious appetite. Some will exhibit a voracious sexual appetite. All in all, it's a fascinating disease, one that usually appears spontaneously in the second decade of life and cures itself before old age. Doctors don't know why it happens - which always bugs me - but I want to learn more about this. I think we can actually learn a lot from it, from the behaviors exhibited when sufferers are in their waking mode.
A few weeks ago I heard that the son of a friend of a friend (sorry) had passed away due to complications from Prader-Willi syndrome. This disease usually claims the sufferers before they are twenty-one years of age. They have mild mental retardation, small hands and feet, are chronic overeaters and are, logically, oftentimes obese from a young age. Interestingly they don't actually die from the overeating, it's just a major symptom. Anyway, it's very sad that they must die so young.
(According to the Wiki article, the defect that causes Prader-Willi is similar to that which causes Angelman syndrome. When I read up on that, it was interesting to see that Angelman's is essentially a form of mental retardation--general happiness, a grasp of only the most basic skills, very late potty-training, a vocabulary of maybe five words, tops. It was interesting that the article never said it was mental retardation.)
You may have heard of Desiree Jennings, the "beautiful cheerleader" (they have to mention she's beautiful or, I guess, we won't feel sorry for her) who got the H1N1 vaccination and, ten days later, fell victim to dystonia. If you google her name you'll find videos. She suffers from chronic, manic muscle spasms that make it impossible for her move, let alone walk or perform the most basic daily functions. The only time she is able to move normally is when she is walking backward, or running. (Argh--think how much more we could learn about the human body just by studying why that is!) It even affected her speech. Now, I just saw a video today of her giving an update, and she was able to speak normally again (although she sounded very, very weary), and apparently she is being helped somewhat with treatment. It's not something that will ever go away, but she's not the only sufferer and there are things patients can try to get it under control.
Lastly, there are people who are actually born with no eyes. Specifically, no eye tissue. It's a condition called anophthalmia and while, in the video I saw, you can see this tiny, tubelike [pupil? retina?] just poking through the slit in the eyelids, essentially there is no eye there.
Sometimes I am just blown away by how intricate and fragile the human body is; how inconceivable that it all just came together on its own. (No complex machine/organism ever can) It makes it easier to understand just how quickly or early something can go wrong, though it doesn't take away the great sadness at knowing so many people in the world have to suffer.
1.22.2010
How deep is the ocean? How high is the sky?
One of the nicest things about spending Saturday afternoons with my great-aunt was getting to hear to about the family history. She was sister to my father's mom, and one of seven siblings, as previously mentioned. I knew the big stories, but got to hear so many smaller ones that proved to be hardly insignificant.
The most famous one was about her brother Harold, who served in WWII. He was chased across a field by German soldiers and crashed his Jeep in a ravine, being thrown from it in the process. He played possum as they went over to check that he was dead, and stabbed him in the leg to make completely sure. He laid as still as a dead man, and survived it. He went on to earn five Bronze Stars and died thirty years later.
The one she loved to laugh about the most was when my grandmother was pregnant with my father, and the women were busy crocheting little clothes for him to wear. My great-aunt was the least crafty of them all, and one evening her mother, Ruby, gathered the sisters to inspect their handiwork. My grandmother's was fine; Ginny's was fine; then she got to my great-aunt and was appalled. It was a little shirt, or supposed to be, but the armholes were so small, "you'll break the baby's arms trying to get them in it!"
When the family moved to this city, they lived near the downtown area in a cold-water flat. They had the usual early-twentieth-century amenities: an icebox, a coal stove, general lack of air-conditioning. They used oil lamps for much of their light. And though poor, they were not kept from observing holidays as we Americans are so very fond of: with lots of food. They would cook a big meal the day of, and have plenty left over for the next day, and for any neighbors who came by.
On cold winter mornings, her father, Henry, would get up early to start the heat in the stove so that Ruby would get out of bed no less than warm and toasty, and he would rouse the kids and cook a pile of flapjacks for breakfast. One year, they had so little money at Christmastime that there was nothing for gifts. But my grandmother, the youngest, still believed in Santa Claus and just knew he would bring her a tiny little couch to complete her small play furniture set. So Henry dug very, very deep, and very likely did without something he needed, and come Christmas morning, Hazel had that little couch.
There was a mean girl in the neighborhood who was bent on revealing to Hazel that there was no Santa Claus. She was almost as mean as Aunt Ginny. I can just imagine the tidal forces colliding when Ginny grabbed her by the shirt and snarled, "You tell her there ain't no Santa and I will hurt you somethin' fierce..."
There were only six kids in that cold-water flat, you know. The eldest sibling actually died shortly after he was born. I didn't know that until last year.
So those six kids grew up, had boyfriends and girlfriends, held jobs, joined the military, got married...but, as my great-aunt told it, as long as they were in the city, it didn't matter what plans they had for New Year's Eve--they, every one of them, still showed up on Mama and Daddy's doorstep at midnight to say a prayer with the family for the new year.
My great-aunt claims she didn't know how to so much as boil a pot of water when she was a young woman, and that Ginny moved into the same apartment building as she to teach her how to cook. (It worked: the woman was making full meals from scratch up until maybe two months before she passed away) She then moved to Chicago for quite few years; I don't know the exact time-frame, but it was after the death of her husband (he died in 1944) and before the sixties. She first lived in a residential hotel called the S&S with a bunch of other young twentysomething women, and they worked their jobs and courted their men, and often gathered in early evenings in the hotel parlor to play cards and listen to music on the radio. This, she told me just one week before the last time we ever spoke.
I knew her parents lived in Kentucky when she was small, but not that they actually were from Arkansas, and that she remembered the names of the men her father worked for (as poverty was kind of the norm back then). She even told me once the names of her mother's parents--I believe the father's name was Herman, because I remember thinking it's just a terrible name for a man to be shackled with; but the mother's name was Circe. How beautiful!
As someone who has been discovering a love affair with early twenieth century life, I just think it's pretty cool that I got to learn so much from an authentic source, and that it was all about people who mattered to me, too. The next time I get a chance to go to her house, I'm going to grab that photo album with those awesome old pictures and get copies made. They're even better than the ones I ganked for this post. :-)
(photos courtesy of www.phsc.ca, www.guardian.co.uk, www.waynoka.org)
1.19.2010
At the end, from a rare height.
When my brother and I were young, we often spent weeks at a time with either our grandmother or our great-aunt. I only realized a few years ago that our parents probably did that so they didn't go completely insane.
Time spent at our great-aunt and -uncle's house was always a good time. I especially liked the way her scrambled eggs at breakfast were always just a little runny, even if the cream of wheat was a bit grainy and unsweetened. At night she would fix me a bread-and-butter sandwich, something my mother would never in a million years have done. My brother enjoyed warming syrup and butter together and dipping strips of bread into it. We usually went to bed pretty happy.
Uncle Phil always, always had a bag of M&Ms waiting for me when we visited. He'd keep it on top of the refridgerator, pretend they weren't there, and I'd pretend I wasn't waiting for them, and then he'd get a little smile and bring them down and pour me a whole placemat full of them, it seemed. I never even liked M&Ms any other time, but from him, they were pretty awesome.
As I said, Uncle Phil was from Mississippi. Any 'ir' or 'ur' in a word was automatically an 'oi.' You may have heard this before. So one morning, my brother was up before me, and sitting on the front porch poking around for bugs with a stick, and as I trudged down the hallway I was just in time to hear Uncle Phil grouse, "Boy, get outta that doit!" Clearly, we laughed all day about it and still laugh to this day, if one of us mentions it.
The backyard was a very nice size, with an old shed and brick barbecue pit for me to daydream over, and a big tree that my brother attempted to summit time and again to no avail. We rolled around in the grass and got itchy. We discovered a huge, mutant ant that he matter-of-factly told me was a 'granddaddy ant' and proceeded to, of course, poke with a big stick. We begged to eat lunch on the old picnic table.
After dinner when the sun was going down we'd sit on the front porch and listen to the cicadas whirring in the trees, a sound that still soothes me and takes me back to better days. My brother and I didn't know it then, but we were living life in a different rhythm, one that the former generations knew well, and to whom watching the sunset and talking about nothing in general made the most sense in the world.
We loved to watch TV, of course. Soaps took priority. Young and the Restless, Bold and the Beautiful. My poor brother got as hooked on them as I did. We also watched The Price is Right faithfully and even kept score (though I can't remember how or why). Channel 4 was the news station of choice, and in the evenings it was shows like Beauty and the Beast and Murder, She Wrote.
My brother and I played with our toys, too. A lot. We read comic books on the guest bed where we slept nights, and devised numerous action sequences with our He-Man and C.O.P.S. (remember that cartoon?) action figures. One afternoon my brother discovered that I had placed Superman on top of She-Ra in a suggestive way. He immediately grabbed them and ran to our great-aunt. "Look what she did!!"
"So?" she replied without missing a beat. "Don't your parents do that, too?"
The idea of that was not a good one for me at that age, but I was very happy that she had saved me from a TON of fun-making.
Above all, we laughed a lot. Our great-aunt was a very, very funny lady. Though she knew how to scold and shame, those moments always vanished before long in favor of the greatest, happiest atmosphere a kid staying with two old folks could ask for.
There's a peculiar light in that guest bedroom. The windows are boarded with quaint blinds that are rarely open, and dainty pink window curtains fall to the middle. The sunlight coming through those curtains creates an alternately rosy and golden glow in the room that isn't bright but warm, and feels like the past; as if beyond the window lies a field of wheat and a neighboring farmhouse, and folks headed to town to the soda shop and the nickleodeon.
There's just something about the past, isn't there.
1.18.2010
All those days are gone.
You may remember me speaking every so often about my great-aunt, who I go see every Saturday to visit, bring groceries, and do some cleaning. I even did a post once about the crazy grocery store in her area with the colorful cast of characters. Well, last night after a brief downturn (the longer catalyst being congestive heart failure) she passed away.
When I moved back to my home city in the summer of 2007, I was hardly here three days before I volunteered to take her to the doctor so my dad wouldn't have to miss work. Almost right away she enlisted me to come by the house Tuesdays and Thursdays (since I didn't have a job then) in much the same capacity as I have been doing. Once I did find a job, that October, I reduced it to every other Saturday. In 2008 I took a hiatus from helping her for a while, just midsummer into fall, and by Election Day I was back in the saddle. I went every Saturday for over a year, only missing one week as I was in North Carolina.
She went into the hospital exactly two weeks ago after it became much too hard for her to get around with all the pain caused by her swollen legs. The pain had been increasing since Thanksgiving, and I guess her body saw it as a good time to go ahead and turn things over to God.
She was eighty-five years old. Up until literally just two months ago, she was still cooking for herself--good meals, too--and doing some sporadic cleaning during the week. She loved watching CNN, which she discovered after Young and the Restless finally started to bore her. (If I never see that Saturday afternoon news crew again, it will be too soon) And she was a talker. Boy, was she a talker. She only had two books in the house, one being the Bible. Pretty much the exact opposite of me. So I mostly sat and smiled while she went on.
She never lost any teeth, never became incontinent, and never for a moment lost any of the sharpness of her mind. Just last fall my dad arranged cataract surgery for her, and her eyesight so greatly improved it was like seeing the world anew all over again, and she didn't need glasses anymore. In the nineties, nearly ten years after she quit smoking, she got lung cancer, but fully recovered. She also had diabetes but never any complications. She didn't even take insulin.
She was the last of her seven brothers and sisters to die. The one before her was my grandmother, my father's mother, in 2001. I am much more like my grandmother. Some days, while listening to my great-aunt talk, I would wonder why my grandmother had to go away before I was fully grown and knew how to appreciate the wisdom she had to give. I didn't resent my great-aunt. I just wish there was more time.
My great-aunt married at the age of nineteen to a man named Lawrence, who enlisted right away into the army and served in WWII. He died in Italy in 1944, barely two years after their marriage.
The uncle I remember is Uncle Phil from Mississippi, a really down-to-earth, extremely nice person. He passed away in his sleep in December of 1990.
She had been without the first love of her life for sixty-five years, and the last, for twenty years.
This past November, I for the first time discovered photo albums in her bedroom. We sat on her bed and looked through them for over an hour. I saw Lawrence for the first time (extremely handsome, as I should have guessed). She had a letter from the War Department near the albums, in a cardboard tube, and we pulled it out and looked at it. It was signed (stamped) by Franklin Roosevelt. It contained a very solemn, eloquent message about the courage of all soldiers and the gratitude of the nation. It listed his date of death as November 14, 1944.
"But," I said slowly, "but today is November fourteenth!"
"Why, it sure is," she said.
Not to get too mystical, but how interesting that exactly sixty-five years after his death we would find the certificate and look at his photographs. Even though her health had not begun to decline at that point, I did wonder for a brief moment if this was some sort of harbinger, something that we were being told.
After so many, many months of going to see her, listening to her, learning about her history and the family's, it is so strange to know that I will never again spend my Saturday afternoons at her house, never again change the bed, taking care to fold envelope corners; never use the ancient vacuum or dust around all her little elephant figurines. Never sit forcibly enthralled by CNN, or hear another story about times and places that now seem so real to me. The folding of the clothes is done. The house sits immaculate but empty. All those days are gone.
When I moved back to my home city in the summer of 2007, I was hardly here three days before I volunteered to take her to the doctor so my dad wouldn't have to miss work. Almost right away she enlisted me to come by the house Tuesdays and Thursdays (since I didn't have a job then) in much the same capacity as I have been doing. Once I did find a job, that October, I reduced it to every other Saturday. In 2008 I took a hiatus from helping her for a while, just midsummer into fall, and by Election Day I was back in the saddle. I went every Saturday for over a year, only missing one week as I was in North Carolina.
She went into the hospital exactly two weeks ago after it became much too hard for her to get around with all the pain caused by her swollen legs. The pain had been increasing since Thanksgiving, and I guess her body saw it as a good time to go ahead and turn things over to God.
She was eighty-five years old. Up until literally just two months ago, she was still cooking for herself--good meals, too--and doing some sporadic cleaning during the week. She loved watching CNN, which she discovered after Young and the Restless finally started to bore her. (If I never see that Saturday afternoon news crew again, it will be too soon) And she was a talker. Boy, was she a talker. She only had two books in the house, one being the Bible. Pretty much the exact opposite of me. So I mostly sat and smiled while she went on.
She never lost any teeth, never became incontinent, and never for a moment lost any of the sharpness of her mind. Just last fall my dad arranged cataract surgery for her, and her eyesight so greatly improved it was like seeing the world anew all over again, and she didn't need glasses anymore. In the nineties, nearly ten years after she quit smoking, she got lung cancer, but fully recovered. She also had diabetes but never any complications. She didn't even take insulin.
She was the last of her seven brothers and sisters to die. The one before her was my grandmother, my father's mother, in 2001. I am much more like my grandmother. Some days, while listening to my great-aunt talk, I would wonder why my grandmother had to go away before I was fully grown and knew how to appreciate the wisdom she had to give. I didn't resent my great-aunt. I just wish there was more time.
My great-aunt married at the age of nineteen to a man named Lawrence, who enlisted right away into the army and served in WWII. He died in Italy in 1944, barely two years after their marriage.
The uncle I remember is Uncle Phil from Mississippi, a really down-to-earth, extremely nice person. He passed away in his sleep in December of 1990.
She had been without the first love of her life for sixty-five years, and the last, for twenty years.
This past November, I for the first time discovered photo albums in her bedroom. We sat on her bed and looked through them for over an hour. I saw Lawrence for the first time (extremely handsome, as I should have guessed). She had a letter from the War Department near the albums, in a cardboard tube, and we pulled it out and looked at it. It was signed (stamped) by Franklin Roosevelt. It contained a very solemn, eloquent message about the courage of all soldiers and the gratitude of the nation. It listed his date of death as November 14, 1944.
"But," I said slowly, "but today is November fourteenth!"
"Why, it sure is," she said.
Not to get too mystical, but how interesting that exactly sixty-five years after his death we would find the certificate and look at his photographs. Even though her health had not begun to decline at that point, I did wonder for a brief moment if this was some sort of harbinger, something that we were being told.
After so many, many months of going to see her, listening to her, learning about her history and the family's, it is so strange to know that I will never again spend my Saturday afternoons at her house, never again change the bed, taking care to fold envelope corners; never use the ancient vacuum or dust around all her little elephant figurines. Never sit forcibly enthralled by CNN, or hear another story about times and places that now seem so real to me. The folding of the clothes is done. The house sits immaculate but empty. All those days are gone.
1.05.2010
In three-part harmony.
You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear
How much I love you
So please don't take my sunshine away
****
The other night, dear
While I was sleeping
I dreamt I held you in my arms
When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung
My head
And cried
My only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear
How much I love you
So please don't take my sunshine away
****
The other night, dear
While I was sleeping
I dreamt I held you in my arms
When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung
My head
And cried
12.31.2009
My 2009 music picks.
As I said, I'll be doing this a bit differently this year. Last time around I heralded my list as the best music of 2008, and as I've been making a new list I realized, how could I ever think I would have heard so much music as to have a handle on the best? I'm sure there are tons of artists I've never heard of, with albums sublime, who deserve to be called the best.
So, I'm just going to offer up a list of the music I personally enjoyed the most this year. There are several artists from AI on the list, so please go into this knowing that though you may not watch the show or agree with it's methodology, some great singers have come from it and deserve a chance.
1. "Wonderful," Gary Go
This up-and-coming British singer does remind one of Coldplay, whom you all know I hate, and so I like to say that he does Coldplay better than they do. This song has a seriously killer hook, and is bolstered by a solid backing piano and an awesome beat that propels every verse and chorus with ridiculously infectious momentum. There's also a positive vibe in the song's message that isn't a new sentiment but I love the way it's stated: "The person that you were has died/you've lost the sparkle in your eyes/You fell for life into its cracks/now you want to bridge the gap..." So what do you do? You gotta look yourself in the eye and say I am...wonderful.
2. "Fireflies," Owl City
This is another song I told you guys about as soon as I heard it. Remember, cartoon clouds? Since then it of course exploded onto the scene and into people's iPods and I heralded myself as a great seer. While I'm not a huge fan of his West Coast accent, I do like the happy-go-lucky vibe and its contrasting undercurrents; I always think that this song is so upbeat but I never imagine the singer himself being at all naive. Plus, it's just good electronica, something with a real melody and creative beats and that tinkling opening that will make your mother say, 'Hmm, that's nice.'
3. "Gimme What You Got," Amanda Blank
I don't like rap and I make no bones about it. But, when this lady rapper was featured briefly on iTunes I checked her out just for novelty's sake (she's white) and ended up liking what I heard. This is one of the most fun songs I have heard in years. Yeah, it's explicit. The chorus is just her saying "Hottest mothaf**** on the whole damn block" over and over. But it's just so feisty and shameless and the beats are insane. There is, of course, a guest rapper, which she doesn't even need. She's got the flow, the swagger, the talent. And she makes me like rap for 2:46.
4. "Number With No Name," Ben Harper
When you talk about a musician being prolific, you talk about Ben Harper. He has like eighty-six albums. Seriously, at least one a year. With White Lies For Dark Times he got back to that funky, cigarettes-and-liquor 70s sound that I love, and this song is one of those gritty sonic experiences that makes you wish you were making out with some shaggy-haired guy in bell-bottoms in someone's basement while the Stones (or this song) spins on a record console from Sears.
5. "Pray," Amanda Overmyer
I already did a whole post about the greatness of this song, so I'll keep it brief. It's deceptively simple and as beautiful as a sunrise in the heartland. The contrast, almost the anachronicity, of Amanda's smoky voice over the Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two bass line lulls you into thinking you've just been listening to a song, when actually, it's your soul you're hearing.
6. "Let It Rain," Kris Allen
One of those songs that gets better every time. Just a solid track from a solid album, but one that sounds familiar in a strange way, as if perhaps it's a cover from an obscure song I once heard in childhood. Or maybe all music is from the same big pot of joy and Kris just knows that better than the rest of us.
7. "If I Had You," Adam Lambert
I'm not a huge fan of the guy, but I am a huge fan of music so that fortunately lets me listen to whatever I want. For those who were for some reason expecting an album of Smokey Robinson and Rat Pack covers, the out-and-out glam-disco-electronica-80s audacity of For Your Entertainment strains their puzzler. Not I. I just like to wallow in all the pink and yellow of this song, the club beat, the heavenly Giorgio Moroder harmonies, and pretty snappy lyrics like "There's a thin line/'tween a wild time/and a flat line..." Honestly, I don't know how Katy Perry didn't write this song. Sing it, girl!
8. "Halo," Beyonce
Hard to believe there was actually a time when I thought there was no such thing as too much Ryan Tedder. The man behind Leona Lewis' "Bleeding Love," Kelly Clarkson's "Already Gone," and Jordin Sparks' "Battlefield" lent his heavy percussion and repetitive choruses to a song that's actually from a 2008 album, but didn't become a single till this year. "Halo" really is addictive, and while the operatic aspirations of Mrs. Jay-Z are a little jarring at first, you gotta love her for sticking to a theme.
9. "Street Lights," Kanye West
From another 2008 album, but it's my list so I can do what I want. I did a whole post on this song also, about its postmodern greatness, so I've got nothing new to offer except to say that it reinforces what I said earlier, that the best music isn't always the most-heard, the most popular, the most rewarded. Such is life.
10. "Paparazzi," Lady GaGa
What I like about her is that though her music is for the club, it is still inherently melodic. A lot of music isn't, a lot of it is completely uninspired in terms of aesthetics (cough*U2*cough). So I am able to enjoy a song like "Paparazzi" because it, very simply, has a pretty melody and good harmonies (technically, I really like the harmonic progression but all that talk will get us nowhere). Same for "Pokerface." And this is a good thing; aspiring wannabes take note.
Honorable mentions: "Let It Rain," Jordin Sparks; "Manhattan," Kings of Leon; "I Do Not Hook Up," Kelly Clarkson
So, I'm just going to offer up a list of the music I personally enjoyed the most this year. There are several artists from AI on the list, so please go into this knowing that though you may not watch the show or agree with it's methodology, some great singers have come from it and deserve a chance.
1. "Wonderful," Gary Go
This up-and-coming British singer does remind one of Coldplay, whom you all know I hate, and so I like to say that he does Coldplay better than they do. This song has a seriously killer hook, and is bolstered by a solid backing piano and an awesome beat that propels every verse and chorus with ridiculously infectious momentum. There's also a positive vibe in the song's message that isn't a new sentiment but I love the way it's stated: "The person that you were has died/you've lost the sparkle in your eyes/You fell for life into its cracks/now you want to bridge the gap..." So what do you do? You gotta look yourself in the eye and say I am...wonderful.
2. "Fireflies," Owl City
This is another song I told you guys about as soon as I heard it. Remember, cartoon clouds? Since then it of course exploded onto the scene and into people's iPods and I heralded myself as a great seer. While I'm not a huge fan of his West Coast accent, I do like the happy-go-lucky vibe and its contrasting undercurrents; I always think that this song is so upbeat but I never imagine the singer himself being at all naive. Plus, it's just good electronica, something with a real melody and creative beats and that tinkling opening that will make your mother say, 'Hmm, that's nice.'
3. "Gimme What You Got," Amanda Blank
I don't like rap and I make no bones about it. But, when this lady rapper was featured briefly on iTunes I checked her out just for novelty's sake (she's white) and ended up liking what I heard. This is one of the most fun songs I have heard in years. Yeah, it's explicit. The chorus is just her saying "Hottest mothaf**** on the whole damn block" over and over. But it's just so feisty and shameless and the beats are insane. There is, of course, a guest rapper, which she doesn't even need. She's got the flow, the swagger, the talent. And she makes me like rap for 2:46.
4. "Number With No Name," Ben Harper
When you talk about a musician being prolific, you talk about Ben Harper. He has like eighty-six albums. Seriously, at least one a year. With White Lies For Dark Times he got back to that funky, cigarettes-and-liquor 70s sound that I love, and this song is one of those gritty sonic experiences that makes you wish you were making out with some shaggy-haired guy in bell-bottoms in someone's basement while the Stones (or this song) spins on a record console from Sears.
5. "Pray," Amanda Overmyer
I already did a whole post about the greatness of this song, so I'll keep it brief. It's deceptively simple and as beautiful as a sunrise in the heartland. The contrast, almost the anachronicity, of Amanda's smoky voice over the Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two bass line lulls you into thinking you've just been listening to a song, when actually, it's your soul you're hearing.
6. "Let It Rain," Kris Allen
One of those songs that gets better every time. Just a solid track from a solid album, but one that sounds familiar in a strange way, as if perhaps it's a cover from an obscure song I once heard in childhood. Or maybe all music is from the same big pot of joy and Kris just knows that better than the rest of us.
7. "If I Had You," Adam Lambert
I'm not a huge fan of the guy, but I am a huge fan of music so that fortunately lets me listen to whatever I want. For those who were for some reason expecting an album of Smokey Robinson and Rat Pack covers, the out-and-out glam-disco-electronica-80s audacity of For Your Entertainment strains their puzzler. Not I. I just like to wallow in all the pink and yellow of this song, the club beat, the heavenly Giorgio Moroder harmonies, and pretty snappy lyrics like "There's a thin line/'tween a wild time/and a flat line..." Honestly, I don't know how Katy Perry didn't write this song. Sing it, girl!
8. "Halo," Beyonce
Hard to believe there was actually a time when I thought there was no such thing as too much Ryan Tedder. The man behind Leona Lewis' "Bleeding Love," Kelly Clarkson's "Already Gone," and Jordin Sparks' "Battlefield" lent his heavy percussion and repetitive choruses to a song that's actually from a 2008 album, but didn't become a single till this year. "Halo" really is addictive, and while the operatic aspirations of Mrs. Jay-Z are a little jarring at first, you gotta love her for sticking to a theme.
9. "Street Lights," Kanye West
From another 2008 album, but it's my list so I can do what I want. I did a whole post on this song also, about its postmodern greatness, so I've got nothing new to offer except to say that it reinforces what I said earlier, that the best music isn't always the most-heard, the most popular, the most rewarded. Such is life.
10. "Paparazzi," Lady GaGa
What I like about her is that though her music is for the club, it is still inherently melodic. A lot of music isn't, a lot of it is completely uninspired in terms of aesthetics (cough*U2*cough). So I am able to enjoy a song like "Paparazzi" because it, very simply, has a pretty melody and good harmonies (technically, I really like the harmonic progression but all that talk will get us nowhere). Same for "Pokerface." And this is a good thing; aspiring wannabes take note.
Honorable mentions: "Let It Rain," Jordin Sparks; "Manhattan," Kings of Leon; "I Do Not Hook Up," Kelly Clarkson
12.25.2009
So this is Christmas.
O holy night, the stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth
Long lay the world in sin and error, pining
Till He appeared, and the soul felt its worth
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!...
My favorite Christmas song. It wasn't until just a few years ago that I for once really listened to the words, and was surprised at how there is such meaning in them, and how profound it is.
*****
I may have done this last year, but here are the lyrics to one of the loveliest and saddest songs ever, found in of all things Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. As a musical cartoon, Belle sings this to Ebenezer.
Winter was warm
Summer soft that year
The winter was warm
Without a sign of frost
Like winter lost
Its way that year
It seems as I recall
No blossoms fell that fall
May didn't leave at all
Or did love paint an illusion?
Now trees with a sigh
Stand and shiver
While their dreams fall and die
And all my dreams are there
Wrapped up somewhere
In summer leaves
Oh, what I'd give to be
To be in love again
This year the winter is cold
Will it ever be warm
As it was then?
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth
Long lay the world in sin and error, pining
Till He appeared, and the soul felt its worth
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!...
My favorite Christmas song. It wasn't until just a few years ago that I for once really listened to the words, and was surprised at how there is such meaning in them, and how profound it is.
*****
I may have done this last year, but here are the lyrics to one of the loveliest and saddest songs ever, found in of all things Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. As a musical cartoon, Belle sings this to Ebenezer.
Winter was warm
Summer soft that year
The winter was warm
Without a sign of frost
Like winter lost
Its way that year
It seems as I recall
No blossoms fell that fall
May didn't leave at all
Or did love paint an illusion?
Now trees with a sigh
Stand and shiver
While their dreams fall and die
And all my dreams are there
Wrapped up somewhere
In summer leaves
Oh, what I'd give to be
To be in love again
This year the winter is cold
Will it ever be warm
As it was then?
12.13.2009
Top 10 movies of the decade.
1. Children of Men, 2006
(Clive Owen, Julianne Moore, directed by Alfonso Cuaron)
The number one movie of the decade. It's so good I haven't been able to watch it a second time. Because I'm scared.
The movie is set in the year 2027. All of humanity has been infertile for nearly two decades, and we are introduced to a world (immediate setting: the UK) overrun with despair, anger, and violence. Immigration is a gigantic issue, as floods of people try to find sanctuary in Britain but are summarily rounded up and kept in cages and suffer desperate situations. Theo Faron (Owen) is forced into helping the Fishes, an underground group that is transporting, of all things, a young, pregnant African woman.
It is an unbelievably bleak two-plus hours, enhanced by extended single-shot scenes that dramatically heighten their suspense. What is most frightening, and life-changing, about Children of Men is that it looks and feels almost just like present day. There are a few futuristic touches--advanced video games, ugly postmodern rock, holographic screens on the job--but largely the movie arrests you and forces you to understand that many of the terrible things in the movie are happening right now, today. The broken lives of immigrants can be no different than those suffering in the Sudan or Rwanda; the dirty, bullet-ridden showdown only mirrors war-torn areas around the world.
A must-see for anyone who cares to truly open their eyes to the reality of a world outside their own. Even if you can barely stand to watch it again.
2. Finding Nemo, 2003
(Albert Brooks, Ellen DeGeneres, directed by Andrew Stanton and Lee Unkrich)
Of all the Disney and Pixar animated movies to come out this decade, this one tops them all, which is saying a lot. Where do I begin, truly? With Dory's (DeGeneres) short-term memory loss, an absolutely brilliant stroke of genius? With the perfect-from-beginning-to-end sea turtle scene (and that adorable little Squirt!)? With the insane notion of fish-tank dwellers and pelicans knowing dental terminology forward and backward? Or with the stunning scene inside of the whale, when Marlin (Brooks) asks Dory how she knows they'll be okay, and she answers simply, "I don't!"
For me, a comedy isn't truly a comedy unless I laugh the entire way through (Friday, Ace Ventura, Clue, The Grinch), and Finding Nemo is killer in that regard. And while I'm laughing, I get to bask in the beautiful animation, an entire cast of ocean-dwelling creatures, and a perfectly-rendered plot that reminds me every single time that even those things which seem terrible may just be part of a path that leads me right to where I want to go.
3. Gladiator, 2000
(Russell Crowe, Joaquin Phoenix, directed by Ridley Scott)
The decade began with a triumph. Although Russell Crowe had been previously nominated for an Oscar, he did not become a household name until donning the toga and sandals of Maximus, the general-turned-slave-turned-gladiator. And don't forget would-be Caesar. This movie is an epic on all scales, from the locations to the costumes to the music to the inspired acting that catapulted Phoenix into the spotlight and won Crowe his first acting Oscar. "Big" movies are always a gamble in that if one portion of the filmmaking formula goes awry, it far diminishes the overall product. Gladiator suffers no such ill-effects. And in case you forgot, it did win a little something called Best Picture.
4. The New World, 2003
(Colin Ferrell, Q'orianka Kilcher, directed by Terrence Malick)
The beauty of this movie is how quiet it is, and how utterly organic. When Captain Newport (Christopher Plummer) and his men land on native American soil in 1620, it is a paradise of tall grasses, fresh waters, endless skies, and a new people. And you not only see the grass—you hear the blades rubbing against each other in the wind. You not only see the water—you hear it lapping against the shore, splashing gently against rocks, again and again, until your senses are overwhelmed and the images and sounds become a part of you. This was a most brilliant feat for a moviemaker (Terrence Malick) attempting to bring the New World to the modern world. The romance between John Smith (Colin Ferrell) and Pocahontas (Q’orianka Kilcher), whose name is never mentioned, is breathtaking simply for the fact that, as the actress was underage, Ferrell could not kiss her or touch her in any suggestive way. And so their love is suggested, and played out in beautiful, innocent images that are far more powerful than anything overt.
The attention to detail in every aspect of the movie is stunning, from the gray, cold desperation of the English fort to the communal native village with their corn stalks, body paint, and prayerful dancing. It is a very long movie, and there is minimal dialogue, and if you can stand that, you will be part of an experience, and you will understand that not everything a society leaves behind should have been left behind.
5. The Prestige, 2006
(Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, directed by Christopher Nolan)
Forget that Jackman and Bale are superstars. Forget that Chris Nolan is the mastermind behind the Batman franchise reboot. The Prestige is a head-trip of a movie in its own right, bolstered by jumps through time and perspective that keep you engaged and guessing till the end, when a stunning twist of sizeable proportions is revealed.
Robert Angier (Jackman) and Alfred Borden (Bale) are competitive magicians in turn-of-the-century London, their rivalry bolstered by the accidental death of Angier's wife during a trick. As they constantly try to outdo each other, Angier enlists the help of none other than Nikola Tesla (played brilliantly by David Bowie) to stage the "Transported Man" trick that is garnering Borden attention. This is one movie where you simply cannot have the end spoiled for you, and once you do understand what has happened--you have to watch the movie all over again. That is a gift to a movie fan.
6. Dreamgirls, 2006
(Jennifer Hudson, Beyonce Knowles, Jamie Foxx, directed by Bill Condon)
Believe it or not, there's more to this movie musical than just Jennifer Hudson's performance. Although she is spectacular and the best singer to come from American Idol. The film starts right away with a performance by the Dreamettes at an amateur talent competition in Detroit, and the momentum literally never lets up. They become backup singers for James "Thunder" Early (Eddie Murphy) and with the help of manager Curtis Taylor, Jr. (Foxx) rise up to become The Dreams, and megastars in their own right. The lead singer Effie (Hudson) is replaced, however, by Deena (Knowles) in order to achieve this, and when Deena also steals Curtis away romantically, Effie is fired. And that's just the first act.
The musical is an excellent history of African-American music in the sixties and seventies, moving from soul to the famed Motown Sound to the infamous disco. The songs themselves are ridiculously catchy and always energetically performed, and on top of that, Eddie Murphy gives the dramatic performance of his career. (He. was. ROBBED. at the Oscars) If you haven't seen Dreamgirls and need a good movie to watch while you gorge yourself on Christmas cookies, then you know what you need to do.
7. Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, 2003
(Elijah Wood, Viggo Mortensen, Ian McKellen, directed by Peter Jackson)
My mom and I went to see all three movies at the theater, but this is the only one for which I bought the DVD. The first two really only set the stage, anyway. I haven't read any of Tolkien's books and didn't know anything about The Lord of the Rings prior to watching the movies. And still, Return of the King affected me in much the same way as I'm sure it did the hardcore devoted.
What I love most about it is Frodo (Wood) and Sam's (Sean Astin) seemingly eternal struggle to get rid of the ring, and how all that is important in life became clear as they struggled up the side of Mount Doom. Struggle--human or hobbit--is universal, and these scenes served as a reminder (just as with Marlin and Dory in the mouth of the whale) that no matter how difficult the cirumstances, no matter how unsure the outcome, you still must try. Pair that bit of timeless wisdom with the obvious, triumphant effort of the filmmakers, the gorgeous landscapes, the epic music, and the perfect ending, and you've got yourself what many say is the best film of the decade.
8. How the Grinch Stole Christmas, 2000
(Jim Carrey, Taylor Momsen, directed by Ron Howard)
Jim Carrey is a national treasure. I'll just get that out of the way right now. He made The Grinch as fabulous as it is. It is a crime to overlook his performance, which might as well be the dictionary definition of "comic gold," because the movie is kid-friendly or because there's such a heavy depiction of commercialism. (Which, I suspect, was kind of the point! The Who's had forgotten the real meaning of Christmas in favor of toys, toys, toys) Besides, the famous conversion scene was wonderfully done and should remind anyone that Carrey is perfectly capable of doing more than just telling a joke. (See: The Truman Show)
9 The Departed, 2006
(Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, directed by Martin Scorcese)
I don't watch many movies like this; in fact, I haven't seen one single Godfather. But anytime you have not one but two characters pretending to be someone they're not, and getting the plot jumbled up into all sorts of twists and turns, you just may have the formula for something riveting. Set in Boston, pretty much everyone is Irish, and the leader of the Irish Mafia, Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson), has Colin Sullivan (Damon) infiltrate the state police; he actually becomes a police officer. Also, the state police choose Billy Costigan (DiCaprio) to go undercover and infiltrate the Irish Mafia.
It's a tough movie, violent, lots of cursing. And at the same time it's genius. I really can't say a whole lot else about the plot without giving it away, so I'll just say that the whole thing is suspenseful and captivating right up to the very last second, literally; and the cast is phenomenal: DiCaprio, Damon, Nicholson, Martin Sheen, Alec Baldwin, Mark Whalberg. This movie deserved to win Best Picture that year, and it did.
10. The Mothman Prophecies, 2002
(Richard Gere, Debra Messing, Laura Linney, directed by Mark Pellington)
Supernatural fiction done very, very right. (It is based on a true story, though) The somber tone and cold winter days are the perfect backdrop for John Klein (Gere) to investigate sightings of the so-called Mothman in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, and figure out why he was mysteriously drawn to such a place after the death of his wife (Messing). This is the best X-Files movie that was never made, and in an era of increasingly un-scary movies (like The Haunting) due to seeing everything, this is perfectly calibrated; in fact, we never even see the actual Mothman. We simply feel its effect, time and again, pressing close to us, speaking of things it shouldn't know into our ear.
Runners-up: War of the Worlds (2005), Identity (2003), Walk the Line (2005), The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
(Clive Owen, Julianne Moore, directed by Alfonso Cuaron)
The number one movie of the decade. It's so good I haven't been able to watch it a second time. Because I'm scared.
The movie is set in the year 2027. All of humanity has been infertile for nearly two decades, and we are introduced to a world (immediate setting: the UK) overrun with despair, anger, and violence. Immigration is a gigantic issue, as floods of people try to find sanctuary in Britain but are summarily rounded up and kept in cages and suffer desperate situations. Theo Faron (Owen) is forced into helping the Fishes, an underground group that is transporting, of all things, a young, pregnant African woman.
It is an unbelievably bleak two-plus hours, enhanced by extended single-shot scenes that dramatically heighten their suspense. What is most frightening, and life-changing, about Children of Men is that it looks and feels almost just like present day. There are a few futuristic touches--advanced video games, ugly postmodern rock, holographic screens on the job--but largely the movie arrests you and forces you to understand that many of the terrible things in the movie are happening right now, today. The broken lives of immigrants can be no different than those suffering in the Sudan or Rwanda; the dirty, bullet-ridden showdown only mirrors war-torn areas around the world.
A must-see for anyone who cares to truly open their eyes to the reality of a world outside their own. Even if you can barely stand to watch it again.
2. Finding Nemo, 2003
(Albert Brooks, Ellen DeGeneres, directed by Andrew Stanton and Lee Unkrich)
Of all the Disney and Pixar animated movies to come out this decade, this one tops them all, which is saying a lot. Where do I begin, truly? With Dory's (DeGeneres) short-term memory loss, an absolutely brilliant stroke of genius? With the perfect-from-beginning-to-end sea turtle scene (and that adorable little Squirt!)? With the insane notion of fish-tank dwellers and pelicans knowing dental terminology forward and backward? Or with the stunning scene inside of the whale, when Marlin (Brooks) asks Dory how she knows they'll be okay, and she answers simply, "I don't!"
For me, a comedy isn't truly a comedy unless I laugh the entire way through (Friday, Ace Ventura, Clue, The Grinch), and Finding Nemo is killer in that regard. And while I'm laughing, I get to bask in the beautiful animation, an entire cast of ocean-dwelling creatures, and a perfectly-rendered plot that reminds me every single time that even those things which seem terrible may just be part of a path that leads me right to where I want to go.
3. Gladiator, 2000
(Russell Crowe, Joaquin Phoenix, directed by Ridley Scott)
The decade began with a triumph. Although Russell Crowe had been previously nominated for an Oscar, he did not become a household name until donning the toga and sandals of Maximus, the general-turned-slave-turned-gladiator. And don't forget would-be Caesar. This movie is an epic on all scales, from the locations to the costumes to the music to the inspired acting that catapulted Phoenix into the spotlight and won Crowe his first acting Oscar. "Big" movies are always a gamble in that if one portion of the filmmaking formula goes awry, it far diminishes the overall product. Gladiator suffers no such ill-effects. And in case you forgot, it did win a little something called Best Picture.
4. The New World, 2003
(Colin Ferrell, Q'orianka Kilcher, directed by Terrence Malick)
The beauty of this movie is how quiet it is, and how utterly organic. When Captain Newport (Christopher Plummer) and his men land on native American soil in 1620, it is a paradise of tall grasses, fresh waters, endless skies, and a new people. And you not only see the grass—you hear the blades rubbing against each other in the wind. You not only see the water—you hear it lapping against the shore, splashing gently against rocks, again and again, until your senses are overwhelmed and the images and sounds become a part of you. This was a most brilliant feat for a moviemaker (Terrence Malick) attempting to bring the New World to the modern world. The romance between John Smith (Colin Ferrell) and Pocahontas (Q’orianka Kilcher), whose name is never mentioned, is breathtaking simply for the fact that, as the actress was underage, Ferrell could not kiss her or touch her in any suggestive way. And so their love is suggested, and played out in beautiful, innocent images that are far more powerful than anything overt.
The attention to detail in every aspect of the movie is stunning, from the gray, cold desperation of the English fort to the communal native village with their corn stalks, body paint, and prayerful dancing. It is a very long movie, and there is minimal dialogue, and if you can stand that, you will be part of an experience, and you will understand that not everything a society leaves behind should have been left behind.
5. The Prestige, 2006
(Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, directed by Christopher Nolan)
Forget that Jackman and Bale are superstars. Forget that Chris Nolan is the mastermind behind the Batman franchise reboot. The Prestige is a head-trip of a movie in its own right, bolstered by jumps through time and perspective that keep you engaged and guessing till the end, when a stunning twist of sizeable proportions is revealed.
Robert Angier (Jackman) and Alfred Borden (Bale) are competitive magicians in turn-of-the-century London, their rivalry bolstered by the accidental death of Angier's wife during a trick. As they constantly try to outdo each other, Angier enlists the help of none other than Nikola Tesla (played brilliantly by David Bowie) to stage the "Transported Man" trick that is garnering Borden attention. This is one movie where you simply cannot have the end spoiled for you, and once you do understand what has happened--you have to watch the movie all over again. That is a gift to a movie fan.
6. Dreamgirls, 2006
(Jennifer Hudson, Beyonce Knowles, Jamie Foxx, directed by Bill Condon)
Believe it or not, there's more to this movie musical than just Jennifer Hudson's performance. Although she is spectacular and the best singer to come from American Idol. The film starts right away with a performance by the Dreamettes at an amateur talent competition in Detroit, and the momentum literally never lets up. They become backup singers for James "Thunder" Early (Eddie Murphy) and with the help of manager Curtis Taylor, Jr. (Foxx) rise up to become The Dreams, and megastars in their own right. The lead singer Effie (Hudson) is replaced, however, by Deena (Knowles) in order to achieve this, and when Deena also steals Curtis away romantically, Effie is fired. And that's just the first act.
The musical is an excellent history of African-American music in the sixties and seventies, moving from soul to the famed Motown Sound to the infamous disco. The songs themselves are ridiculously catchy and always energetically performed, and on top of that, Eddie Murphy gives the dramatic performance of his career. (He. was. ROBBED. at the Oscars) If you haven't seen Dreamgirls and need a good movie to watch while you gorge yourself on Christmas cookies, then you know what you need to do.
7. Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, 2003
(Elijah Wood, Viggo Mortensen, Ian McKellen, directed by Peter Jackson)
My mom and I went to see all three movies at the theater, but this is the only one for which I bought the DVD. The first two really only set the stage, anyway. I haven't read any of Tolkien's books and didn't know anything about The Lord of the Rings prior to watching the movies. And still, Return of the King affected me in much the same way as I'm sure it did the hardcore devoted.
What I love most about it is Frodo (Wood) and Sam's (Sean Astin) seemingly eternal struggle to get rid of the ring, and how all that is important in life became clear as they struggled up the side of Mount Doom. Struggle--human or hobbit--is universal, and these scenes served as a reminder (just as with Marlin and Dory in the mouth of the whale) that no matter how difficult the cirumstances, no matter how unsure the outcome, you still must try. Pair that bit of timeless wisdom with the obvious, triumphant effort of the filmmakers, the gorgeous landscapes, the epic music, and the perfect ending, and you've got yourself what many say is the best film of the decade.
8. How the Grinch Stole Christmas, 2000
(Jim Carrey, Taylor Momsen, directed by Ron Howard)
Jim Carrey is a national treasure. I'll just get that out of the way right now. He made The Grinch as fabulous as it is. It is a crime to overlook his performance, which might as well be the dictionary definition of "comic gold," because the movie is kid-friendly or because there's such a heavy depiction of commercialism. (Which, I suspect, was kind of the point! The Who's had forgotten the real meaning of Christmas in favor of toys, toys, toys) Besides, the famous conversion scene was wonderfully done and should remind anyone that Carrey is perfectly capable of doing more than just telling a joke. (See: The Truman Show)
9 The Departed, 2006
(Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, directed by Martin Scorcese)
I don't watch many movies like this; in fact, I haven't seen one single Godfather. But anytime you have not one but two characters pretending to be someone they're not, and getting the plot jumbled up into all sorts of twists and turns, you just may have the formula for something riveting. Set in Boston, pretty much everyone is Irish, and the leader of the Irish Mafia, Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson), has Colin Sullivan (Damon) infiltrate the state police; he actually becomes a police officer. Also, the state police choose Billy Costigan (DiCaprio) to go undercover and infiltrate the Irish Mafia.
It's a tough movie, violent, lots of cursing. And at the same time it's genius. I really can't say a whole lot else about the plot without giving it away, so I'll just say that the whole thing is suspenseful and captivating right up to the very last second, literally; and the cast is phenomenal: DiCaprio, Damon, Nicholson, Martin Sheen, Alec Baldwin, Mark Whalberg. This movie deserved to win Best Picture that year, and it did.
10. The Mothman Prophecies, 2002
(Richard Gere, Debra Messing, Laura Linney, directed by Mark Pellington)
Supernatural fiction done very, very right. (It is based on a true story, though) The somber tone and cold winter days are the perfect backdrop for John Klein (Gere) to investigate sightings of the so-called Mothman in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, and figure out why he was mysteriously drawn to such a place after the death of his wife (Messing). This is the best X-Files movie that was never made, and in an era of increasingly un-scary movies (like The Haunting) due to seeing everything, this is perfectly calibrated; in fact, we never even see the actual Mothman. We simply feel its effect, time and again, pressing close to us, speaking of things it shouldn't know into our ear.
Runners-up: War of the Worlds (2005), Identity (2003), Walk the Line (2005), The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
12.01.2009
Or, a box of chocolates.
Life is like a game of solitaire.
Skill will only get you so far. In the end, it's about the hand you're dealt. If it's a crappy hand, you'll lose. If it's not so crappy, you have a chance at winning. It's not your fault what hand you're dealt; it's purely chance. And you do with it what you can.
You can play as many hands of solitaire as you like, of course, quitting those crappy ones as soon as you run out of options.
In life, however, there are some pretty serious consequences if you choose to end the game.
So you sit, out of options, with your crappy hand, until, I guess, the battery runs out.
Skill will only get you so far. In the end, it's about the hand you're dealt. If it's a crappy hand, you'll lose. If it's not so crappy, you have a chance at winning. It's not your fault what hand you're dealt; it's purely chance. And you do with it what you can.
You can play as many hands of solitaire as you like, of course, quitting those crappy ones as soon as you run out of options.
In life, however, there are some pretty serious consequences if you choose to end the game.
So you sit, out of options, with your crappy hand, until, I guess, the battery runs out.
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