Crash sequence

On my way into a movie, a parking valet decided to woo me: "Hello, beauty. You are going to the movie? I heard it's very good. Some people come out crying. They made it about L.A. A beauty like you should not be going to the movies alone. What is your name? My name is Henry. Maybe when you come out of the movie, I'll see you again. I'll remember your name. Do you remember mine? What is it? Very good, beauty. See you later."

The movie was Paul Haggis' Crash. I hadn't planned to see it until I found out a friend of mine had a role in the film. It was an impressive undertaking, if only a bit too ambitious in its range (touching on everything from racism, the heavy-handed focus, to HMO red tape and bureaucratic corruption). It certainly captured the chrome-encased rage that percolates under the gloss of L.A. Not a real postcard view of Lalaland.

Thandie Newton was a stand-out, although all the acting was great. Props to Sandra Bullock for capturing the quintessential rich L.A. bitch--a proliferating breed. At times the bad news in the storyline seemed relentless in a Grand Canyon way, but Haggis does give one angelic reprieve that was a temporary salve.

In many ways, the overlapping stories, human suffering and continuously ratcheted tension echoed P.T. Anderson's Magnolia. Although less elegant than Anderson's masterpiece, this film had similar emotional crucible moments and replaced falling frogs with almost-as-rare City of Angels snowfall.

The opening dialogue of the film sets the mood perfectly:
"It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something."

Spellbound meets Broadway bound

I think my neighbors are high and watching "The Blue Collar Comedy Tour." I've never heard them laugh this loud and on my way back from the laundry room, I heard the male member of the duo mimicking the much-quoted catchphrase "Get 'er done" with great gusto.

Speaking of high, I tried to watch Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle the other night and couldn't make it through the first half-hour. Miserably dumb and terribly written.

Speaking of high notes, one of the best moments of my Memorial Day weekend was watching the delightful documentary Mad Hot Ballroom, which follows a few NYC public school ballroom dance teams through their training and the final competition. I have a low saccharin tolerance, so only went to see this because the reviews were so good. I'm glad I did. The kids were unbelievably charming, the teachers remarkable and the transformation of one team in particular delivered Rocky-esque underdog thrills. The sight of at-risk kids swaying their little meringue-ing, rumba-ing hips with such confidence and joy after weeks of awkward gym rehearsals was absolutely heart-swelling.

Crazy in love

How do I couch this? Tom Cruise is crazy about Ms. Holmes. But seeing his Oprah antics in stills makes me wonder—is he high on Dawson's Crack?

Found via dirtynerdluv's site.

Reno 911

I just watched the first season of the TV show Reno 911 and have to say I liked it. Though listless at points, the improvised zingers make the draggy moments bearable. I do have a fondness for the improv. A couple of my favorite quotes:

Deputy Travis Junior:
"I actually wanted to be in the FBI for about 20 minutes after I saw that movie with Jodie Foster and that guy who eats people in his basement, but I was really stoned at the time. And to be honest with you, for about 20 minutes, I also thought about making a dress out of people's skin."

Lt. Jim Dangle: [performing an anti-crystal meth song for a class of kids]
"You can monkey with a gibbon, You can fiddle with a bow / But before you snort that crystal meth, there's some things that you should know / Meth is made from antihistamines, in basement labs it's cooked / And possession is a felony, which means that you'll get booked / With a snort it zips right up your nose, and eats away your brain / It kills your sense of good and evil, and it makes you go insane / Here we go... / So don't meth with meth, Beth / Don't meth with meth, Seth / Don't meth with meth... Gwyneth / Don't meth with crystal meth!"

Milk was a bad choice

today i watched two impossibly long and thin girls chat and smoke at a cafe table. though not green, their bodies were remarkably gumby-like in their slim rectangularness. dressing them in green flare-legged pants would have sealed the deal. i hope they were sisters. to think that that kind of dna could be replicated in mere friends is too eerie to consider.

***

movie review time:

this week's pick: another french film examining vanity and its effects on relationships (like the recent look at me) called kings and queen. another critical darling, it took me until the last reel to really appreciate what the director was throwing down. lots of jumping around in time and confusing side-stepping finally paid off in a very satisfying "meaning of life"-examining way. quite remarkable, actually, although the grey-haired denizens who made up the majority of the audience seemed miffed upon exit. the male lead, mathieu amalric, was the highlight of the film. his charming all-over-the-place emotions and behaviors kept the train rolling for the 150-minute running time.

just to cleanse the palate from all the french fare, i watched will ferrell's anchorman. i expected it to elicit mild amusement, but i found it quite funny. i suppose it was the writing, which felt improv-y in a good way, as much as the performances. there were great lines throughout and will ferrell proved himself worthy of being america's sweetheart. the boy obviously loves the english language and i love him for loving it. it was nice to see paul rudd goofin' it up, too, behind that walrus mustachio.

until next time, stay classy.

40 blows

40 is old. I don't care what people say. I just turned 40, so I should know.

When my birthday was approaching, I was feeling pretty funky about it. I never thought I would. On the other hand, I never thought my 30s would actually come to an end. It was my favorite decade for a lot of reasons. I guess mostly because I was figuring things out about me and the world more than I had in the past. I was free to be you and me. Expressing myself. Trying new things. Dating new people. It felt like it would last forever.

Then came 40 like a big old stop sign. Of course, it's symbolic. Of course, "age is just a number." "You're as young as you feel." These are things that 30-somethings say to people who are turning 40. They have no clue what it looks like from this end. I forgive their naivete. "40 is the new 30," they cheerfully point out. I call bullshit. I tend to agree more with the birthday card message sent by a friend who beat me to the fourth decade of life by a couple of months. "What's the best thing about turning 40? It's not 50."

Now, I have come to accept my age as a biological fact and have found some peace with it. After the actual birthday passed, the pressure of the "big 4-0" lost some of its weight. All in all, it gave me a nice life signpost to pause at. A turning point to reconsider priorities and get motivated to meet goals that were always hovering out in the "someday" realm. 40 is a good wake-up call, but not much else.

Last night I was watching "Late Night with David Letterman" and Chris Rock was a guest. It came up that he had just turned 40 himself. I'll paraphrase the conversation.

CR: "40 is old, Dave."

DL: "But I thought 40 was supposed to be the new 80. Is that right? I always get that confused."

CR: "No, Dave. 40 is old. The only time 40 is young is if you die. Then 40 is young."

Knowing that Chris Rock is 40 is the one other good thing about being 40.

Hey, I know that dude

So this talented musician I know, Joe Kennedy, just put out a record in the UK called "Van Cortlandt Park." It's totally up my alley in that it contains heart-soaringly happy, perfectly polished pop, so I have been in cheery, head-bobbing mode since it entered my CD rotation. My song picks: "Fishing," "Each and every day" and "Sadness."

Download some sweet satisfaction here.

Thanks for the hook-up, Karina.

I must be living in a parallel universe

I saw the suckiest movie this weekend and what makes it worse is that almost everyone in the known indie-watching universe loved it and Grand Jury-awarded it. So why did I hate Primer so much? For one thing the acting was miserably bad. Sure, the film was made for $7,000, so maybe I should cut it some slack in the cast department. But it was oh so painfully obvious that the writer/director wanted to build tension and get a time-machine-inventors-in-the-garage-type reality through stammered, overlapping conversation. That kind of gimmick needs some Glengarry Glen Ross-type talent, baby. Watching these two amateurs hamhand it drove me mad, I tell you. Mad. I wanted to throttle the blonde lead.

I started fast-forwarding through the DVD, doing my own kind of time travel, hoping that it got better later. Nope. And here I read all these people are excitedly enjoying repeated viewings of it to figure out what's really happening.

I would hazard a guess that my brain is just not wired to go along for the string theory ride, but I dug Pi, which was full of low-budget jinkity*-ness and maddening math mambo'ing. It smacks of the Emperor's New Chemistry Set to me.

*A term I learned in a Nightline(?!) interview with Beck (evidently the newsmagazineshow is trying to age down the demographic, yo.) It's hard to imagine a human being being cooler than the Beckster. Jinkity is his word for something that's just slightly off. Perfect in its imperfection. Unlike Primer.

Puns in the news

Rush Limbaugh refuses to believe that mankind could generate enough pollution to accelerate global warming. Sounds like a lot of hot air to me.

Mr. Risky Business flew Miss Dawson's Creek out to L.A. for an unexplained meeting, then had her messy car detailed and de-dinged before their first official dinner date of sushi at 15,000 feet. Sounds like Cruise control issues to me.

Contraception

Time management tip: Use the 120 minutes to realphabetize your CD collection and avoid watching Birth starring Nicole Kidman. I'm a huge Kidman fan, but even I don't want to spend two hours seeing her look pensively at a blank-faced 10-year-old.

I had hoped it would be an intriguing psychological drama, but it was just a well-upholstered picture book about a desperate wife-to-be. I never bought that the boy could be the reincarnation of her dead husband, which is key to enjoying the movie. Where were the scenes where they reminisced? Even a little? The Anne Heche hiding-something-in-the-leaves scene at the start of the film felt like a studio head's brainstorm. Thanks for the spoon-feed, dudes.

Just like Nicole's character, the movie was pretty on the outside but never let us see inside. One thing I did enjoy in the film were the excellent male actors Danny Huston, Peter Stormare and Arliss Howard. What great, distinctive faces they've been blessed with and they each played their roles with understated elegance. OK, OK, so nice casting work and chilly art direction. Otherwise it left me cold.

Paris is for animal lovers

Quote from an Associated Press interview with Paris Hilton by Derrik Lang posted here.

AP: What did you want to be when you were a little girl?

Hilton: A veterinarian, but then I realized I could just buy a bunch of animals.

Neo-cones

Do you eat the "right" kind of ice cream? How about a "School Prayerleens and Cream" sundae for the kiddies?

(Found via this funny dude's link list.)