Like: Generation Kill

April 8th, 2009

gk11

So I went back and finally finished/re-watched all of Generation Kill.

… Amazing.

For those unaware, Generation Kill (GK)is an HBO miniseries about the invasion of Iraq from the perspective of the 1st marine recon unit (which for the purposes of that war, was basically a marine battalion in Humvees). It was made by David Simon and Ed Burns, the geniuses responsible for the greatest television show of all-time: The Wire. For those who tire of the ham-fisted Iraq politicization  and fictions, GK is about as far from that as you can get. Yes, GK is very much of The Wire formula/sensibility, but the wonderful thing about The Wire formula/sensibility is that is it is inherently designed to mimic the truths and forms of the subject itself. GK does not approach the war and Iraq from an ideological and didactic standpoint, it approaches truths through character. Look, I’m not going to say that Generation Kill is definitive truth or anything that grandiose, but it might be as close as you can get because it approaches its subject from a journalistic standpoint. There is no true intention of GK except to supplement the experience for those who were not there. It simply tries to deal openly and honestly about the condition of singular moments and not to make something accessible, but to make something of the experience that rang true to the marines on the ground. And to be sure what they did was authentic, they had an actual marine in the writing room at all times, as well as original writer original Evan Wright.

Getting to the matter of character: Generation Kill was originally a book written by Evan Wright who was doing an article for Rolling Stone. He ended up riding point Humvee in 1st recon and writing about his experiences. He is represented as a character in the miniseries too (which sort of makes GK is a basically a factual recreation if you will).  And Evan really makes no attempts to prognosticate, but rather to assimilate into the population. He is not really a character in the singular sense, but our observer, like Ishmael in Moby Dick.

The two central figures Wright observes are the two men in the front of said point Humvee: the first is the driver, Cpl. Josh Ray Person,  played by James Ransone (Ziggy from The Wire season 2!). Much like Ziggy, Ray’s entire existence is a force of nature; he is 100% pure black humor. As a recon marine, Ray frequently stares into void of potential death and the reality of killing other human beings, but he only finds inherent irony and silliness. It’s one part coping mechanism and one part destiny: Ray’s predisposition makes him a Marine through and through, it is almost as if it was the only thing he can do. He wants combat. He wants action. He’s also somehow endearing as hell (being funny often helps in that regard), despite completely typifying the titular “Generation Kill.” But that’s the real rub of the title, much like Ray, it is laced with irony. But in truth it is  Sgt. Brad “Iceman” Colbert, played by Alexander Skarsgaard (son of stellan!), who is the most amazing part of GK and the proverbial anchor of the series. Brad brings a deeply parental nature to his team; he leads by example with a serious demeanor, but so much boils under his surface: reservations, contempt at inept officers, rage, fear, and happiness.  It is such an introspective performance; a man who’s has all the reason in the world to be grandiose (considering the grandiose setting and events) and thus has to be muted in order to cope. Alexander/brad is a compassionately brooding figure; also a massive figure, towering above most others (notably: Alexander was a former Swedish marine). To use my favorite saying: he is just stupid good in the role. Really, make no mistake, this is the stuff leading men are made of.  It’s no surprise Kenneth Branaugh is basically going nuts trying to get marvel to sign off his casting of Alexander as motherfucking THOR (it’s perfect).

The two characters of Ray and Brad are somewhat antithetical, yet both are excellent examples of good marines. They are responsible and knowledgeable. They care about their fellow marines. They are great in combat and subvert any of their fears. Truly, they seem to have no fear of death. But there is another member of their point Humvee team and his name is Lance Cpl. Harold James Trombly. He is rather easy right off, because he contains so many qualities that define a scumbag, yet every bit of that is mixed with an oozing innocence. His actions infantile and child-like, but not in an insufferable way, but a vulnerable way. He could be grumbling about wanting to kill dogs, but there is an odd, daft sweetness to his manner. Really Trombly is the kind of guy who’s situation in life never really gave him a shot at being “normal.” But Ray and Brad in thier relative maturity, seem to give him guidence. It’s a very interesting relationship.

Meanwhile, there is also Lt. Nathaniel Fick. He is Superior officer to Brad and the great example of a wonderful leader who tries to serve his men and make the best of his middle management position. Taking orders which put your men in danger are exceptionally difficult choices and most of the time Fick was admirable, and sometimes he let the pressure from above get to him and made mistakes (the “petting a burning dog” moment). But what was most respectable about Fick was that he was always honest with is men and never seemed to think of his career first. But as GK takes the wonderful time to show clearly, Fick’s greatest problem is that when he questions orders (often in the absolute critical interest of his men and their safety) he is regarded as a malcontent who undermines his (incompetent) officers. The best example being the time he was penalized for providing a superior officer from killing himself and everyone in their platoon. How dare he! (Forgive the sarcasm)

All of this makes Fick the shining example of leadership against the bevy of dumbass officers that seemed to populate this marine battalion. To GK’s credit (or sense of earnest), none of these officers seem to be bad people, but are instead good/delicate/well-intentioned men who simply have no competency or leadership abilities.  It happens all the time in all lines of work; people can be promoted for being good at what they do, but often end up being terrible managers.   One officer was so woefully incompetent that if I ever saw the man Captain America was based on (I don’t care if the actor who played him might have been a little over the top), I would punch that motherfucker in the face. As Captain America was represented in GK, he was an officer who’s absolutely fearfulness of warfare itself, complete over-willingness to fire, lack of regard for prisoners, willingness put others in jeopardy, and constant terror of his superiors officers, made him a perfect storm of recklessness and ineptitude. According to Evan’s account of the battalion, Captain America was directly responsible for more of the Battalion’s  injuries than the enemy (the official Marine account would be very different). It’s just unspeakably disgust.  Slightly more forgivable, however, was Cpt. Craig “Encino Man/Hitman” Schwetje. Yes he was incompetent, often putting his men also in jeopardy (a ridiculously decided danger-close bombing scenario which Fick attempted to subvert was solved purely by Encino Man giving the wrong coordinates), but most of his problems stemmed from his juvenile demeanor and alpha-male boyishness. He’s in a middle-school mindset: stupid and eager to please his officers, but at least he seems somewhat well-intentioned.You get the feeling that while unlikely, he could grow into a better leader. Captain America, however, never belonged in a uniform. And unfortunately the structure of the marines officer system all but ensures he’d stay in one for the remainder of the war.

What is then interesting is seeing the man on top, Lt. Colonel A.K.A. “Godfather” (he has a raspy voice), and his leadership of the battalion.  Godfather does not seem like a particularly unreasonable person, but rather a good motivator who will communicates his intent with clarity and serves his superiors rather well. The problem seems to his structural detachment to both the action and his men. He is far enough removed from what is happening that conflicting accounts of Captain America’s incompetence gives him pause, but not enough to demote or discharge him (which again, should happen). This same dynamic works in an opposite capacity when he hears similar grumblings about Lt. Fick from the incompetent officers that he questioned. Now of course to the audience, the two soldiers are night and day when it comes to serving their country and the Marines, but to Godfather, the breakdown of truth in the military ranks renders the two mutually equal in terms of problems. It seems to be a sin to even suggest that, but that’s the problem: the structure of marine command creates difficulties for both the effectual and ineffectual alike. The problems with emotional detachment are played out in a wonderfully in a  scene when an injured Iraqi child (shot by Trombly) is brought by the unit’s doctor and other morally inclined officers to Godfather’s camp so he can get shipped back to a hospital for medical treatment. Godfather proceeds to give them a long list of reasons why that is implausible and exceptionally difficult from their current position, all of which are surprisingly sound reasons… and then, he gives the OK order anyway. It’s a great moment, but one that highlights the problems of detachment. It’s easy to say “no” when you’re on the phone, not watching a child die when you had the power to do something about it… no matter how problematic that something might be.

There is a larger problem still with Godfather’s detachment, one which has political ramifications. Much of his battle plan is designated from politically inclined generals; many of which he is  eager to impress. The recon marines battle plan for the war instantly becomes haphazard, roaming, and purposeless. They hit political targets yet skim around Iraq barely addressing problems, bombing before investigating, and ignoring problems they themselves create. It is incompetence in its purest form, a basic ignorance of the facts on the field in the pursuit of successes determined in Washington. The war in Iraq was a mad dash to Baghdad and everything since has been a matter of picking up the pieces from that destruction. The Marines regularly lament the cluster-fuck of what is occurring when compared to the skillfully executed missions they performed in Afghanistan. This isn’t a political reality. This is a reality of warfare. We see it time and time again in the trials of these recon marines. Were they to stay and handle a situation at hand, the situation could be solved and they could move on in good tactical conscience and good conscience at large. Which is exactly what the tactic became during the surge, you know, the moment where the war turned around and genuinely started to be rebuilt… it just took 4 years for the top brass to figure it out.  Meanwhile, these guys knew it the moment they got into the cities.

Look, the problems of the officer/soldier dynamic is nothing new. TS Elliot perhaps illustrated it best in The Hollowmen as had Coppola in the Apocalypse Now, as had Kubrick in Paths of Glory. But those were, well, artistic representations of a larger truth. They were inherently constructed. Not to get all non-fiction-vs.-fictiony, but what I liked about GK was that the examples of the officer/soldier dynamic are soundly concrete. The examples are factual, yet provide complete metaphorical representation of the larger political problems of the war. We rushed into a Iraq for perhaps unsound reasons, and then then competent, tactical soldiers had to deal with the consequences on the ground.  But of course things are never that cut and dry. Much like The Wire, Simon and Burns always let reality get in the way of any point they may try to make. The best example I can think of and most beautiful moment of the entire series deals with an officer whose name I can’t find (d’oh!) but he was the one complete and total asshole who always gave people crap about the marine dress code. He’s the complete stereotype of the hard-ass how harps on completely unimportant things and chews his men out. He’s in the mold of Lee Emory, almost acting as if that man was his hero. But near the end of the series, after a few marine injuries and some static development leave the Battalion’s morale rather low, the Asshole Dress Code Officer guy goes up to his fellow officer and has the following exchange:

(Paraphrased…)

Asshole Officer: Morale seems pretty low.

Other Officer: Yeah things look rough.

Asshole Officer: Well if things get any worse I can start harping on the dress code again.

[They share a wry smile]

… honestly it made me a bit teary.  It’s a kind of ego-sacrifice that you rarely see in real life. The Asshole Officer was willing to be “the asshole officer” for the greater sake of the men. The character is fully conscious of his effect and it’s wonderful to see, especially when many of the other officers (like Encino Man) are defined by their ego-centrism.   Ultimately, that’s what Simon and Burns have an amazing ability to do. They take some one who would either be a cut and dry asshole and they humanize him without ever dipping into forceful schmaltz (which the moment could have easily been and even slightly reads like in my summary. It wasn’t. It was great).

I think that’s all I have to say…

Generation Kill is amazing.

Endnotes:
-I may be mixing up my use of the word battalion, so anyone please correct me if I’m wrong.

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Like: This Awesome Sleeping Bag

April 3rd, 2009

In the interest of stealing a joke, “I want to go to there”

Via Me-Fi.

http://www.thinkgeek.com/stuff/41/tauntaun.html

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Don’t Like: This Asshat’s Logic on “Why Athiests’ Arguments Do Not Work”

April 2nd, 2009

watch?v=xi8q9jeyfeo&feature=channel

First off he never really addresses atheist’s arguments and just makes hilarious statements and conclusions instead. But first, a qualifier!

1) I am somewhat at odds with logic. It’s is an incredibly useful tool of construction/deconstruction and often provides the crux of philosophical theory. But logic itself is not, and has never been, the definitive system for “answers,” philosophical or otherwise. The basic scientific principal of “correlation does not mean cause” prevents it so, and yet most logic depends on that being true. While it may seem that “science” as we know it was invented in the 17th-18th century, really the basic tenants have always been routed in the pillars of observation and appropriation. There’s a timelessness to those qualities, just as their is a timelessness to logic, but they are interdependent on one another and have always been. More so, in the age of increasing scientific propriety, observation, data collection, and technology, we have a legitimate ability to gain actual substantial answers to long theoretical questions and problems. With that, logic has become the currency of the intellectual disaffected and the occasional dead weight of lunacy.(1)

Enter this asshat.

There’s a lot of general stupidity out there with which I have absolutely no problem. I generally like to single out the most amusing or most outrageous in some kind of personal way. So like those, this guy is special (assuming he’s serious. Which I think is true. More on that later). But this seems to think he is the god of logic. But so often the problem with logic is that YOU define the variables and if you define them wrong you can go of an logic bender that leads you to a stunningly crap-tastic conclusion. So let’s go on a journey.

First off, there is his claim that Atheists don’t believe in god, because they can’t see god. He compares this to the fact that we can’t see air, but we know it’s there.  Sigh.  The obvious problem is that we can see air. You use a thing called a “microscope” (well a powerful version of one) or other scientific instruments with which we can look at and analyze the molecules that make up this “air” thing you speak of.  Even better, he then uses the comparative example of “not being able to see your own brain, yet it exists.” Well tell you what, I’ll go grab my dad’s Vietnam era machete and give a good slice across your forehead, grab a piece of your brain and show it to you before you die. Because you’re sitting and talking to a camera, yes, even you have a brain (of course this implies your sliced brain would still have visual functioning capability). See we have TANGIBLE ways of actually seeing these invisible examples you speak of. The atheist argument is dependent on the fact we currently have NO TANGIBLE ways of seeing god. (2)

The next part is equally awesome. Saying that proposition of God’s existence inherently begins as a 50/50 chance is a total falsehood.  Just because there are two possible answers, does not mean there is an equal chance of those answers being correct. It’s like saying there’s a fifty/five chance I’ll be hit by a falling lime green Boeing jet today. The odds are actually dependent on, you know, the probability of said event occurring, not the number of a possible outcomes. It is one of the most basic pillars of logic and one of the first things you learn on the subject: An either/or result does not facilitate either/or logic.

Which then brings him to the “51%” thing where he goes from his already incorrect 50/50 probility of god existing to the the long-pause-inclusive “but. there. is. evidence!… of him, existing!” deduction is high comedy. Needless to say said evidence isn’t presented and instead we’re just treated “we exist” followed by a statement which implies 100% of god existing by saying “And if he didn’t exist there would be nothing.” Just awesome. It becomes evident he has no idea where he is in his logistical timeline and is pretty much winging. Then sequeways with a sort of nice equivalent of saying science can’t prove anything “because it’s logic.” Which is oh so failsafe.

The also also best part comes right after that with “the four most evil people in history of human history” (nice repeat) were atheists… followed by the hilarious DOUBLE eyebrow raise (a kind of awesome you get me? you GET me? ATHEISTS ARE EVIL, eh?). Followed by the prefect double hand open of obviousness.

Just Killer.

The also also also best part is his other videos are even more hilarious, offensive, and culturally charged (the one on sex hurting the vagina being okay in particular), but this one highlights his logistical failures much more acutely.

Psychologically speaking, his arguments are oddly solipsistic. He is taking special care to deny almost any other singular influence on his opinions. Most like to reference and support, his logic is instead a wholly insular enterprise. It is an increasingly common behavior on the internet and something I find to be a result of 1) a disconnected society and 2) bad learning habits. But that’s all conjecture. The dude is funny to watch.

There’s a lot of belief that this guy is playing a character and these segments are a joke. Who knows? The problem is that it doesn’t pass my gut test. I look at him and it reads real even if his statements are ludicrious (a good deal of Christians seem to be just as offended by his nonsense giving them a bad name). He’s just too good the personality type. He’s simply too good at playing the self assured, withdrawn, intellectual type who is probably a libertarian, thinks no one is as smart as he is, and dismays that society does not live up to his standards. Which makes me sad… I’m going to hope he really is playing a character.

It should be said there scientific arguments/theories for god’s existence (the big bang, etc) that are at least somewhat interesting. It’s all deeply theoretical and miles away from having scientific legitimacy, but it’s still interesting and enjoy reading about it. And no, I’m not talking about intelligent design. Any scientific theory that is built on “we haven’t figured this shit out yet, so it must be god” is about as faulty in logic/science/basic life skills as you can get.

For those  questioning my motives, as everyone tends to do, I really don’t have a stake in the answer. I might believe in God, but I lean sort of atheist. I’m not sure. I just know that I care about the methods we use to come up with “answers”, because often the methods inform the answers themselves.

Addendum

1- This statement however does ignore the problems created by conflicting data and the mass amounts of misinformation.

2- There are some interesting theories, which I address a bit at the end above.

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Like: Manny Ramirez, who was apparently breast fed up to and including the age of four.

March 25th, 2009

Manny Ramirez was apparently breast fed up to and including age four. I just learned this.

One could say “this explains a lot” and it might be true, but rather than make a pejorative claim and I am simply going to file it away into the list of hilarious and entertaining events that I was privvy to in the life of Manny Ramirez.

There isn’t a single baseball player I like/have liked more than Manny Ramirez. His seasons in Boston were easily the most entertaining, fascinating, and awe inspiring thing I have ever seen. There’s a lot of more qualified people to talk on the subject, but I’m not some simpleton baseball fan who adores limelight figures and doesn’t “get it.” I love baseball. I know baseball. I love the stat revolution. And I love Manny.

He is a near perfect hitter with no holes in his game. He hits at any count. He hits any part of the plate. He can hit opposite field. He hits for average. He hits for power. He has been stunningly consistent.  Hell, HE sets up pitchers to get what he wants.  The only other player who comes up in conversations about “setting up” pitchers are pete rose and shoeless Joe. Yet, he doesn’t blink twice after a backwards K. He just keeps moving like a shark. His talent is a seeming anomaly.

I both like and detest the phrase “Manny Being Manny.” In someways it’s a perfect explanation for the stunningly bizarre range of behavior. It explains the unexplainable. But it’s ubiquity has afforded a kind of de facto accreditation for anything that happens to the guy. It’s almost stopped us from trying to figure out this guy. Why is he worth figuring out? To highlight:

-He has been a hitting freak forever, and a near legend for his ability when playing high school baseball in NYC.

-He frequently watched hitting film buck naked in the Cleveland clubhouse.

-He accepted the contract with Boston on the condition that they hire Frank Mancini… the clubhouse guy who set up the pitching machine for him… seriously. This is absolutely hilarious. Frank declined because he lives in Cleveland and is, you know, a clubhouse guy.

-He took frequent piss breaks in the green monster

-Coming back from a brief injury he had a stint in AAA pawtucket. He loved it there and wanted to keep playing there. Once he even supposedly requested a trade there (!)

-He once dove to cut off a throw from Johnny Damon in center… he was about 20 feet from him.

-He is oddly shy.

-He and Julian Taverez had the same exact nickname… for each other… “Rambo”

-He wears an impossibly baggy uniform.

-He would go months without depositing paychecks. We’re talking practically millions.

-He sold/helped sell his/some dude’s grill on Ebay.

-He is oddly punctual during the season (compared to his off season) and is often found asleep in the clubhouse when people get there.

-He made a great running catch, then ran up on the wall, high fived a fan, then threw it back to first to get a double play. This actually happened.

-Again, Manny was breast fed up until the age of four.

I could go on, in fact this is just scratching the surface, but you still get the idea.

So why do I like Manny so much? These just seem like distractions and news stories, but really they’re just details about an enigmatic figure. People give him crap for not playing the game “the right way.” I hate that. Really, everyone is supposed to play the game hard-nosed and gritty? Give me a break. It’s about contrast. It’s about stylistic discrepancy and awesomeness. I look back at my favorite red sox players, Oil Can Boyd. Bill Spaceman Lee. El Tiante. Pedro Martinez. Manny Ramirez. They were all eccentric, dominating performers. They had a bit of a screw loose. They were somewhat mystical.  They had fun. They played a game and somehow transcended it. That’s what I love.

It’s a game. An incredible game, but a game nonetheless. Manny seems like one of the only people who is not afraid to treat it like one. Sure he gets paid millions of dollars, but we pay millions of dollars to see him. I don’t care about about his contract disputes. He’s angling for money. Everyone does that. It’s not a public service. It’s a game. And Manny is better at hitting than anyone else on the planet. (he’s freak performance the last 2 months in LA can attest). So I abandon the complaints. Manny is simply the most fun.

And that’s what I like best. I can’t help it. I just do.

To wit, a comparison: The 2007 red sox team had a hard-nosed, workhorse demeanor who cranked out an efficient title. It was near perfect baseball from a perfectly constructed team. Meanwhile, the 04 team was a bunch of “idiots” who magically came down from 0-3 in the ALCS and won that fucker. They went on to deliver the first world series title in over 80 years. Yet, with that crazy fucking roster of nincumpoops they had no business doing so.

Which team was more fun?

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Don’t Like: Me this morning, “Man I’ve been eating awful lately, I should totally eat healthy today. [Later]… Ooooh Donuts!”

March 17th, 2009

How delcious!

It’s not like I bought them or anything.

Some one else did, I just ate them.

St. Patty’s krispy kreme if you must know!

Haha. I just watched someone who said, “GOD I CAN’T EAT A WHOLE DONUT, WHY DID PEOPLE BRING THIS IN?” go up eat five consecutive munchkins over the course of about 15 minutes.

Now if you excuse me, I have to go drink some pints of guinness.

… I’m kidding, it’s 10 am.

OR AM I?

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Love: Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life, Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World, Scott Pilgrim & The Infinite Sadness, Scott Pilgrim Gets It Together, and Scott Pilgrim Vs. The Universe

March 13th, 2009

“Scott Pilgrim is one of my favorite comics.” Lots of people say that. That’s because it’s awesome.

Scott Pilgrim is 23 year old living in Toronto. He meets Ramona Flowers and is smitten. Author Bryan Lee O’Malley’s comic is almost perfectly observed: tiny bits of interaction, nuance, dating intricacy, and wholesale anxiety. Perhaps the most wonderful part is that there’s a wonderful casualness to the style and the world. Most of scenes are simply hanging out, but rather than reflect significant boredom, there is instead a focus on just the kinds of things that make hanging out with your friends so exciting and fun.  Scott Pilgrim is perfect realism… except when it’s the exact opposite. O’Malley mixes the aforementioned realism with vivid fantasy tones and video game logic.  In order to date Ramona, Scott must defeat her 7 evil ex-boyfriends. Expect expansive fight scenes, traveling through the mystic void of “subspace”, people who go to “vegan school”, item rewards, robots, stat bonuses, and plenty of metaphysical indie rock. It’s a stunning amalgamation really.

The world is populated with wonderful characters, but Scott and Ramona a truly something remarkable. Scott is a perfect central figure. He is intensely like-able and funny, yet a ball of walking anxiety, stupidity, fear, and forgetfulness. He’s not exactly a simpleton, but there is something intensely “regular” about him. And it goes far beyond the “lovable loser” routine. Scott transcends it. Truth is, I can’t think of a similar central character off the top of my head. That in and of itself is wonderful. Ramona meanwhile transcends her own cliche. Nothing seems more inane right now than the recent influx of “magic pixie girls.” It’s a new cliche, flighty wonderful women who make your boring personality and existence more tolerable because they are so adventurous and spontaneous. At first Ramona may seem to be a perfect example. She’s a rollerblading delivery girl (even in winter), she dyes her hair every other day, she’s got some serious martial arts skills, and actually travels through subspace! But Ramona is anything but an empty shell of surface things that make a woman’s “personality.” That’s what a lot of males writing women don’t seem to get. Personality is suplemented by details (wheras their male character seem like empty templates of longing). Ramona has so many layers. Her complexity and distance are earned. She is marked by a sense of grief. Her “running” from people is not a sign of dejecting the screenwriter, but a reaction to her past. She is someone more mature than who she was, but not sure how to be the person she wants to be. My word, it seems as if O’Malley *GASP* knows an actual woman who is actual person! You know, instead of the crazy version of magic pixie girl they see as their desire from the outside looking in. Nowhere are Ramona’s layers more evident than in the most recent book (Volume 5). It’s a revelation to me. O’Malley has transcended the magic pixie girl. Good show old chap!

Tangent: There’s a movie coming out. Edgar Wright is doing it. Just going off Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, you may think that’s not exactly a perfect choice. But Spaced is the closest thing in tone to Scott Pilgrim I’ve ever seen. It IS perfect. Most of the casting is complete home runs. I have two big worries: 1) Scott Pilgrim is played by Michael Cera. Don’t get me wrong, I love Michael Cera. But the dude kind has his own style of delivery… And he seems nothing like Scott Pilgrim. So I’m worried. Hopeful, but fearful. 2) Looking over the casting… it seems like they’re cramming 4 books into one movie, maybe even 5 or the whole story (there are 6 stories). This seems like a huge, huge mistake. The four or five action sequences alone could take up so much running time that it wouldn’t leave room for the minor scenes of the story. And That’s what makes Scott Pilgrim so wonderful. I’m absolutely terrified. If anything it seems like it should be broken up episodically into 3, or at least certainly 2 movies (There is a great natural break at the end of the third book). Don’t get me wrong. I love everyone involved. I’m just scared as hell.

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Don’t Like: Anthony Lane, and his review of WATCHMEN in The New Yorker (Spoilers)

March 7th, 2009

Said review:

http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/cinema/2009/03/09/090309crci_cinema_lane

Anthony Lane’s review of Watchmen will possibly receive a lot of ire. The probable quality of most of those complaints will be inarticulate, awful, and possibly violent. What else can one expect from a fan base full of what he refers to as Wagnerian Ardor. But does he deserve said ire? Why would people specifically target Lane when there have been plenty of mixed reviews for Watchmen out there? I cannot say for sure, but I know there is a reason I have singled out his review.

When it comes to critics, the most common complaint of populist moviegoers is something akin to “they’re snotty.” It is an inane response, a joyful celebration of both stupidity and futility. On the other hand, nobody likes to be marginalized or belittled, even if the commentary may be accurate. In going over Lane’s review of Watchmen again and again, the problem is that I cannot understand or see the film from his perspective. It is an indignant perspective, a dismissive perspective, and perspective that (much to my chagrin in using the word) defines “snotty.”

The initial problem is that Lane intentionally sets himself up to be the pariah, never mincing his words about fans of the superhero genre; he derides their intelligence, values, and juvenility. Can comic book fans be those things? Of course. But to so callously lump the stereotyped fan-boy with the litany of people who just so happen to read/have read some superhero comics is folly. Not to mention that there are a host of excitable moviegoers who read the comic in anticipation for the release of the film. Many of those moviegoers subsequently found the novel to have some worth. Ultimately, I find what Lane assessment of the audience, and any critical proclamation of this nature, to be solipsistic. It singularly benefits him. It directly antagonizes the reader (even if they dislike the film as well). It is helpful and enlightening to absolutely no one.

Even the world of Watchmen seems to irk Mr. Lane. He laments the “bevy of brutes” on display; not to mention Nite Owl’s inherent Batman similarities (he calls “plagiaristic,” a falsehood), one hero’s shampoo-sounding nickname, Dr. Manhattans glowing “pornographic” phallus, Ozymandias’ boyish looks and qualities (somehow presented as criticism of itself?), and a complete misunderstanding of just what the heck was going on with The Comedian. These complaints are wholly tangential, but are somehow presented as evidence of Watchmen’s inane qualities. The observations are not useful criticism, they are a comedy routine. Which I suppose is fine in some forums, but as funny as it could possibly be it is wholly pointless to have a running commentary on the merits of character appearance in a five paragraph review in The New Yorker, especially when said comments serve no purpose in building to a specific point. This is even odder because these surface details that he observes have inescapable conclusions.

In a world where superhero movies are the most popular thing on the planet, how is a movie about their subversive id, selfishness, peculiar dress, and eccentric nature wholly without merit? No matter how banal the may seem? It seems like logical fallacy. Even if you find the philosophy beneath you, the superhero movie is entering a retrospective or deconstructionist phase (started 30 years ago in comics themselves). And Watchmen is important because it is about our very attraction to superheroes in the first place. We are a certainly a culture addicted to them. While the heroes themselves may provide some kind of commentary on the world, the real commentary deals with our desperation to be like them, to reek vengeance on the amoral of the world, or to be larger than life, or special. Watchmen is about the extremes of these behaviors and it goes to amazing depths to get to the heart of the dangerous reflexive relationship between them, even while it has no problem being hypocritical in doing so (more on that later).

Of course there are minor nitpicky things I can take with the review. It’s littered with inaccuracy, which has been a disturbing trend in Lane’s work. For what it is worth (and it is worth something) Dr. Manhattan is not a radioactive being. It is even the crux of the plot. He is not radioactive in the slightest, but the commentary lies in the popular perspective that he is indeed radioactive. His identity is synonymous with fear. Fear of nuclear war, of god, or even of death itself. The worst offense is that Lane seems to take a peculiar delight in spoiling the end of the film. Make no mistake, the film is a noir-ish mystery (he even says so) and casually tossing in the ending of a mystery (without even discussing its merits!) reeks of reader-directed sadism. Yes, we live in a spoiler paranoid culture and I have problems with that too, but it is a reality that every reviewer has to respect. We like the surprise of the mystery, even if one deems that mystery to be lame. That is how we universally watch films; even we The New Yorker readers. To deny that and to intently spoil, is nothing but 100% nihilistically glee, akin to the greatest contrarians, the malcontents, The Joker(s), and The Comedian(s). Again, solipsistic.

The only interesting comment I found in the piece concerned of Snyder’s “arousal” by vengeance/violence and the ensuing counter-productive qualities. It is a fair criticism that possibly subverts the intention of Watchmen all together. After all, the sociopath Rorshach is the most popular character. Our attraction to his violence is indicative our zeitgeist. Lane vehemently dismisses the whole relationship as juvenile and without purpose. One could argue it is anything but. Alan Moore acknowledges the hypocrisy and states that it is meant as an indictment of vigilantism and the psychology needed to behave that way. Snyder seconds the opinion, even if he overtly glorifies the violence. Snyder’s contradiction could be the real crux of Lane’s argument, but instead it is presented as a statement against the plot-level heroism of the characters; the gray meta-audience-intricacies are left hanging. Lane instead provides even more focus on his visceral dislike of the level of the violence itself. An indictment of the level of violence may certainly be valid, but it is wholly uninteresting in the context of other questions Lane seems to be dancing around; Watchmen certainly has more interesting things going on. It is a shame because second guessing the amount of the violence is more indicative of the kind of reviews one comes across on religious family-oriented websites.

I acknowledge that all this discourse as a matter of semantics. Maybe Watchmen is simply not meant for Anthony Lane. He is just one man, right? But I can’t help but come back to the Lane’s inherent distaste and disdain for the film, the world of the film, and the audience of the film. What is the job of a film reviewer? Is it to be entertaining? Possibly. But should not he/she be diplomatic in his/her mission? What is a critic supposed to be? Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure the reader who likes said movie should never feel insulted for having liked it. A good reviewer will establish his/her thinking, point to specifics, and then reach out to you. They make you ask questions, maybe even doubt your assumptions. We’re supposed to feel as the critic has engaged us in conversation, not assaulted our intelligence. And Watchmen is not a throwaway horror film or a juvenile sex comedy where you can get away with the “snark as review” approach. If anything The New Yorker IS the publication that shoehorns in the discourse no matter how unnecessary. So why does Watchmen get the contempt, the triviality, and the comedy routine? This is one of the most celebrated graphic novels of all time. It is a landmark achievement. There is some consensus on this. Or are we all banal idiots? I am convinced at this point that the stance of Mr. Lane comes from nothing but a lack of care and effort on his part. Is it really so hard to even engage with us, the ardent Wagnerians?

Rarely am I made to feel as if I am a philistine. It is certainly not a good feeling. There is something parental and authoritative about it, as if you are chided for your natural inclinations and lifestyle. No. I have to stand pat on this. I am qualified to be conversed with on an equal level. I have a bachelor’s degree in film (production, screenwriting, and cinema studies). I could have a conversation about Tarkovsky and “sculpting in time” if Mr. Lane would like? Or perhaps the merits Lynchian subtexts? The reflexive nature of watching television and its effect on our personalities? I could discuss cultural semantics of post-modern literature. Would these be of more interest? Is it a more worthy conversation? Is Watchmen below me then as he seems to insist?

See, I happened to think the political satire had merit. For this, I am apparently a “leering nineteen-year-old who believes that America is ruled by the military-industrial complex, and whose deepest fear—deeper even than that of meeting a woman who requests intelligent conversation—is that the Warren Commission may have been right all along.” There are so many ways to respond to this: the legitimacy of the problems with military-industrial complex, my complete lack of interest in JFK assassination, or my insistence of my mature relationships with intelligent females (and beautiful too, which Mr. Lane leaves an insinuation of implausibility). Should I have a sense of humor about this? Perhaps. But Mr. Lane is so declarative in his assertion that he does not even seem to even care about veracity. The quote above is said by the kind of a man who is sickened by my interests. I am stereotyped. I am something so neatly packed into pathetic-ness. Therefore, I can conveniently be dismissed. No matter who I may really be, I am automatically part of Mr. Lane’s oppositional Wagnerians.

This is not what I expect from The New Yorker.

Make no mistake, some intellectuals find Watchmen rather interesting: a metaphysical blue entity who plays the role of god, who sees the world through string theory and quantum mechanics (contrary to Mr. Lane’s belief the science that applies to his state of being is anything but junk), the Swiftian pursuit of the greater good, the deconstruction and sociopaths of vigilantism, the plight of American pseudo-fascism, and even the alternatives to our iconic history. But does it all have to be dressed up in an “overblown” and violent world where hyper-kinetic action is modus operandi? Of course it does. What other world could a superhero movie exist in? The biggest problem is that Mr. Lane cannot seem to come to grips with the fact that most Watchmen’s commentary lies in its own hypocrisy: it is both of and transcendent to the world it portrays. In the comic book world, Superheroes could literally tear humans apart, so why haven’t they? Watchmen is the answer to its own question. And to lament the conventions of a superhero movie is like lamenting over someone being killed in a horror movie.

This taps into a frequent problem I find with Mr. Lane. As intelligent and inclined toward thematic motifs as he clearly is, he often showcases a profound lack of genre understanding. I see it again and again, creating a pattern of problematic posturing. Is genre something that every reviewer should intrinsically understand? It is one of the reasons I have been gravitating to some of the more thoughtful reviewers on the internet (they do exist). And I constantly find myself being drawn back to the great Roger Ebert, who has no inclination toward liking superhero movies, but seems to have no qualms with dealing with a film in the context of his own world. And the Watchmen world is complicated and worth effort, so much so that Ebert even published a second review after feeling a responsibility to see the movie a second time and truly absorb it. Yes, the man with the populist “thumbs up” TV show (and therefore appears to be the antithesis of The New Yorker in some ways) is the one who took the time and the care to engage us (the reader) in a conversation. He is not some Ain’t It Cool News fanboy inclined to love the film from the get go, but instead the man often respected by film enthusiasts and the general public alike. This is not a coincidence.

Forgive the metaphor… Maybe Anthony Lane has simply become the Dr. Manhattan of film criticism; content with seeing movies on his own quantum level. We mortals are not privy to it. The way we see movies are trivial. Some of us may even be Ozymandias, the “world’s smartest man” who is no more significant to him as the world’s smartest termite. We see action movies for action. We see superhero movies for superheroes (only we don’t confuse “comic” for “superhero” while doing so). We watch giant robots fight each other because we think that is neat. We care about movies that most Americans will see and have some kind of response to them besides indignation. We might even be able to have an intelligent conversation about it. We really might be Ozymandias, our love of populist genre movies deforms the high art of cinema, just as he “deforms humanity.” Anthony Lane makes it clear he will take no part of that deformity. Maybe he recognizes the quantum analytical level of our film world as nothing but silly human affairs and nonsense. Perhaps then, as Dr. Manahattan, he should simply leave that world alone, and let us deal with it on our own.

I have read The New Yorker for what feels like my entire life and I’ve loved my experience. I also recognize that letter writing is often purposeless, at once cathartic and destructive to the letter-writer himself; but I felt it necessary at this point. Anthony Lane is intelligent for sure, but I’ve never once felt like he has watched a single movie with us. I have been talked at, but I have never had that conversation. It fills me with unquantifiable sadness.

Sadness because is indicative of my greatest fear. The New Yorker is a publication that prides itself on true reporting, journalistic integrity, and understand that the truth of liberal politics has nothing to do with posturing or contrarianism, but the merits of understanding. It is in other words, a cultural beacon. And the greatest fear as a reader of The New Yorker is that there is some veracity to what all the infantile opponents always say: it is “elitist,” “condescending,” “biased,” and “pompous.” I am filled with unquantifiable sad, because in the case of Mr. Lane’s review, it was true.

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Like: That Zach Snyder Nailed “WATCHMEN”

March 6th, 2009

I will keep this brief. (til a 2nd post)

WATCHMEN is nerely impossible to adapt.

Zach Snyder did as great a job as possible. I saw a midnight screening last night and the audience ate it up.

Lacking eloquence on purpose: Every actor was great. I knew Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Jackie Earle Haley would be fantastic and they hit their marks perfectly. Jackie did this wondeful thing where he kind of kept the stubborn little boy aspect of Rorshach completely in tact. Patrick Wilson was incredible. He’s the ethos and empathy of the piece and carries us with him. But Billy Crudrup and Matthew Goode surprised the hell out of me. They simply nailed it. Especially Crudrup. Even Malin Ackerman was fine (or didn’t bring anyone down). In a weird way, she fit the naivety of the role quite well.

Some  may have issues with a few of the changes, but I think they streamlined the whole plot very well.

It actually felt like a damn movie.

Cheers Zach:

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Like: The Geek Heirarchy

March 5th, 2009

Warning. Do not try to read this. Click on link below.

geekchartbig2

THE GEEK HEIRARCHY CLICK HERE FOR BIG VERSION YOU CAN ACTUALLY READ
What is the most wonderful thing about the Geek heirarchy? It’s unflagging accuracy. There isn’t a single thing I can find wrong with it in the way of discourse. It’s a wonderful achievement in the annals of fanboy and geek semantics. It also belittles your potential interests! Either way. Just great stuff.

It’s also completely hilarious.

Props go to K. for alerting me to this many moons ago.

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Don’t Like: OKAY FALSE ALARM

March 4th, 2009

CARRY ON.

god I’m an idiot.

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