Saturday, April 30, 2005
The Thirst
If I was a studio executive trying to pitch the Russian film Night Watch to an American studio, I'd probably say something like, "it's the Blade meets the Matrix with Lord of the Rings mythos. And it's a trilogy. Americans love anything that comes in threes!" Thankfully, Night Watch, hitting U.S. theaters later this year, manages to create a visual language and moments of sheer cinematic delight that make one forget that all this light versus dark is vaguely familiar. There is a coming apocalypse, a chosen one and one man (well, technically an uber-human with special powers) standing right, smack in the middle of a delicate truce between light and dark. Visuals aside, the ending of this one is so un-Hollywood that I could hardly stop grinning from ear to ear. Those damn, crazy brilliant Russians!

After watching Night Watch, I was jonesing for another supernatural, vampire tale in a superficial and slightly mediocre package. As luck would have it, Blade Trinity was released on DVD this week. How perfect! Surprisingly, this film did not disappoint, but it did raise a few interesting questions. Like, when did Ryan Reynolds get hot? Don't get me wrong, I always loved Ryan's goofy charm. I've watched Van Wilder more times than necessary (okay, just once, but really that one time ... so not necessary). I always stop for at least ten minutes if his old TV show, Two Guys and A Girl (and Pizza Place, sometimes) is on WE. Hell, I even thought he was cute in his five minute part in the thoroughly underrated Dick, but I never thought I'd put "hot" and "Ryan Reynolds" in the same sentence unless I was referencing temperature. Now, he's a total pretty boy. A goofy, cheeky, dofus pretty boy. I like that.

On the same tip, when did Jessica Biel become Linda Hamiliton? Her body in this movie is just sick. It's the kind of sick I'd want to be if, you know, I could spend seven hours a day in the gym six days a week and streamline my daily calorie intake to just under fifteen hundred. I'd give up ice cream and oreos forever if it would man achieving that level of physical fitness and by forever, I mean until I hit fifty. She replaces Michelle Rodriguez's body in Girlfight as my dream body ideal.

Plot? What plot? Blade Trinity had a plot? Wesley Snipes was in it? Really? Oh right, something about Dracula and blood? I was too distracted by the aforementioned Reynolds and Biel and also by Parker Posey camping it up as an evil vampire. This film was probably my best rental decision since The Fast and The Furious. Did I just loose some respect? NYU may ask for my degree back if I ever admit this in public. It will be our little secret.

posted by runnerbird | 7:23 PM

Friday, April 29, 2005
Reaper Madness
Last Saturday, I almost died. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it is the truth. Almost. I had an "attack" complete with a pain in my chest, gasping for breathe and near loss of consciousness. After a week of worrying about what this could possibly mean, I finally got word from the doctor that I'm in perfect health. Or ... whatever kind of health someone like me should be in. I'd be lying if I said that the doctor's words were completely reassuring. Does an attack like that just happen? If so, can I hate god now? I sure will if I drop dead next week.

To "celebrate" my clean bill of health, I decided to thumb my nose at the forces of the universe and rent the first season of Dead Like Me. I mean what better way of saying "yeah, baby, I'm alive" than watching a show about sudden death were all the main characters are dead. Recently cancelled by the geniuses at Showtime, this is probably my second favorite series of the past year next to Wonderfalls, which should really come as no surprise since both shows were created by Bryan Fuller.

Like Wonderfalls, Dead Like Me centers around a directionless, goalless, snarky, slightly bitter and very jaded young woman who wants nothing more from life than to not really have a life. Luckily, our heroine, George Lass, is killed by a toilet seat from a Russian space station about half an hour into the pilot. And also like Wonderfalls, it is this intervention from the forces above, that thrust George into *gasp* interacting with the world when she becomes a Grim Reaper. An undead dead person who collects the souls of the living just before they die. Seriously, how does Bryan Fuller come up with this stuff? And can I have some of that stuff?

George Lass is like the undead Jaye Tyler. Hmm... or maybe Jaye Tyler is the living George Lass? Whatever, you know what I mean. Her life snuffed out before she even turned twenty, George is trying to make the best of her undead situation. She still clings to the people she left behind, visiting her family home often to see if everything is all right, and finds herself becoming someone a little more grown up. Could it be that she actually might want to have friends now? Something she never bothered with when she was alive. Of course, the lesson is all of this is don't wait until you are dead to start having a life. A perfect sentiment for someone who almost died to think about ... too melodramatic?

posted by runnerbird | 11:17 PM

Friday, April 22, 2005
I Really Love Your Work
Sometimes, okay more like all the time, I find it odd that anyone is paying attention to this little blog. Outside the people who know my last name and have probably seen me drunk, why would anyone be interested in reading the random thoughts of an inarticulate stranger? With this in mind, I found it more than a little surreal that I received an email from Lauren Lee Smith recently. Apparently, she found this journal entry where I sung her praises into the deep void that is internet and just wanted to thank me. Uhm, you're welcome, Lauren. Even more amusing is that she admitted finding this entry through Google. Googling oneself has become the premiere masturbatory act of the 21st Century. I googled myself last night. It was amazing.

Since Ms. Smith left no return contact information in her email (and wisely so, Lauren), I suppose I should post what would have been my email back to her via this entry on the off-chance that she finds her way back here (and here's hoping that One Hour Photo entry didn't completely scare her off).

Dear Lauren Lee Smith,
Can I call you Smithio? Don't know why, but I just feel it would be a hoot. I am touched that you wrote me an thank you email. It was quite unnecessary, but a completely glorious and pleasant surprise, much like your performance in that episode of Mutant X where you become good and bad Emma. Good times! I think you have the right mixture of vulnerability, charisma and warmth that make you pop off the screen in anything you are in. Your characters have soul, a spirit, that make them a wonder to watch. So, thank you for breathing life into your alter-egos. I wish you future success and I'm looking forward to seeing what characters you bring to life in the future. I'd love to see you on a Josh Schwartz, Bryan Fuller, Todd Holland or Rob Thomas show. If only there was a way I could make that happen... that didn't involve black magic. Anyway, thanks again for the email. Made my day, in a non-Clint Eastwood kind of way.

On the off-chance that google can make the surreal happen again, here's a few more stars I'd love to sing the praises of, just in case anyone is listening.

Jordana Brewster
I can remember the first time I saw a young Jordana Brewster on my two o'clock summer guilty pleasure, As the World Turns. My first thought was wait, that's Hal Munson's daughter? My second thought was somewhere along the lines of wow, that Nikki Munson's quite good, but wait, she's with Andy? ANDY!?!? I don't think I ever forgave Nikki for giving Andy the time of day, but I did think Jordana Brewster was the shit back in 1995. Fast forward ten years to a semi-crowded movie theater and about twenty-five minutes into the running time of the spy-spoof D.E.B.S., there is a look Jordana's alter ego Lucy Diamond gives the camera as she passes in front of it that made me go, "damn, she's still the shit." If I were to pinpoint what makes her the shit in just about everything she does, I'd have to say it is her ability to convey a mired array of emotions with one, single look. It is her subtle looks and way she holds her frame that makes you believe that she is that character. The tough girl swagger and confident way she holds a beer is all Lucy Diamond. This character lives and breathes because of the distinct way she smiles. Like I said, the shit.

Elaine Cassidy
I don't even understand how Elaine Cassidy managed to pull off the character of Maud Lilly in the recent BBC adaptation of Sarah Water's book Fingersmith. It is an impossible task to play a character that has to be deceitful, tender, honest and manipulative all in the same scene, but she does it perfectly. She owned this character. I know I should go watch Felicia's Journey to really see her acting chops, but ... too... scared.

Mia Maestro
Even when Mia Maestro's character Nadia Santos on Alias smiles, she still looks haunted, like the weight of the world's sins is on her shoulders. Her pain, her fears and her life's longing are all written across her face. Given her character's checkered and bloody history, it's a subtle acting choice that makes me want to declare, in my best Faye Dunaway voice, "now, that's acting!" The way Nadia Santos cries breaks my heart. There is a vulnerability that makes me realize that she is still a helpless, haunted little girl that wants so much to be loved. Okay, a little girl that would pump a clip full of bullets straight through your heart, but a wounded little girl nonetheless. I will admit right here that I've never seen Mia Maestro in anything other than Alias, so she might just suck in everything else, but she is perfection in this role.

posted by runnerbird | 9:01 PM

Thursday, April 21, 2005
Transcendent
The philosopher in me, the side of me that would sit around college coffee shop, drinking coffee and chain smoking Camel lights while riffing on the works of Foucault if it had its way, has always thought the human need to create music is something deeply embedded in our DNA. It is a primal force of nature, beyond our control, beyond intellectual reason. The ability to lose ourselves in the proper rhythm, to succumb to the controlled chaos of perfect, visceral beats is in us all, hidden just beneath the surface of our cool, civilized exteriors. Or at least this was my justification for jumping up and down for over an hour to the crafted beats of Moby at Webster Hall last night. It's a primal thing. I can't help myself. I just can't keep still when he launches into "Go". It's impossible. I sincerely apologize if I step on anyone's toes.

Last time I saw Moby live, I thought I saw God. I touched the eternal about one minute and thirty-two seconds into "Move (Make Me Feel So Good)". It was one of those rare moments of clarity in my life where I was fully present in that exact space and time. This is what it means to be alive, I told myself, moments before some drunk, frat boy spilled beer all over my jeans. Beer-soaked jeans aside, I would repeat the experience in a heartbeat, so let's just say last night's concert had a lot to live up to.

Like snowflakes, finger prints and my indecipherable signature, no two concerts are ever the same, so it is almost futile to compare the two experiences, but since I don't know the meaning of the word futile (it's a wonder I even spelled it correctly), I'm about to do just that. I knew I was in for a great evening when the show opened with one of my favorite Moby songs, "My Weakness," an evocative piece of sober music that always makes me want to weep and smile at the same time. A few bars into his next song, "Raining Again," I noticed his female vocalist was different than his last tour. My heart sunk a little. His vocalist the last time had, what Marianne Faithful would probably describe as, a "voice of god." She had the kind of voice that had soul, depth, spirit, pain, love, passion, hate all within the each note she hit, which may explain why I regard the last concert as a religious experience. This vocalist, while technically perfect, lacked these range of emotions in her voice. But by the time Moby launched into "Lift Me Up," a song that stirred the crowded into a frenzy, I didn't care.

One of the highlights of the evening, however, was something I overheard. Moby dedicated the song "Spiders" to David Bowie who was out in the audience somewhere. A few seconds later, a couple passed in front of me. The woman said to her boyfriend, "did you hear David Bowie is here! We need to find him so we can make out with him." Yep, New York... what a town!

posted by runnerbird | 10:16 PM

Friday, April 15, 2005
Rumors
Now, I'm not one to spread celebrity gossip (what? why are you looking at me that way? *hiding my copy of US Weekly* what?), but this story is just too ridiculous not to comment. According to People Magazine, Lindsey Lohan and her ex-boyfriend Wilmer Valderrama were at the same celebrity hot spot, Suede in New York last week. Suddenly the two ex-loverbirds had a dance-off. A dance-off? Yep, a old-school, straight out of Breakin' and/or Beat Street dance-off. How very West Side Story! An "inside" source was quoted as saying, "Lindsay got there, had her energy drink, and all of a sudden they started glaring at each other. And they get up and start dancing. Then they were dancing on top of the banquettes, and then Wilmer does this almost Michael Jackson impression on the dance floor!" Yeah, I said it was ridiculous, didn't I.

Let me break this down. First, "they started glaring at each other" just makes me think of some spaghetti Western directed by Sergio Leon. I could almost see the tumbleweed pass between them across the dance floor. Second, "they were dancing on top of the banquettes, and then Wilmer does this almost Michael Jackson impression" is perhaps the most insane sentence I've ever had anywhere in this journal. I could see how dancing on top of benches during a dance-off would swing the crowd in your favor, but breaking out king of pop moves is so 20th century. Is the moonwalk and grabbing one's crotch still cool? Considering the gloved one is on trial in California right now, I'd say the answer is a big, honking no. My one, legitimate question (and no "why, for the love of god, why?" is not legitimate, just obvious) is how does one win this type of dance-off? Cheers from the crowd? When your opponent finally bows to your dancing greatness? When someone just passes out? Seriously, I'd like to know. Also, what does being the better dancer prove, aside from a presence of coordination and rhythm? "I suck at relationships, but at least I can shake my thang!"

Didn't Justin and Britney have a dance-off in some club in Vegas just after they broke up? Is this a celebrity thing? I think this could make a great reality show. Take recently separated celebrity couples, have them break out there greatest moves and have America decide who is the Greatest Dancer (.. "that I've ever seeen, I've ever seeen!"). I can see it now Denise Richardson breaking out some harlem shakes while Charlie Sheen does some Footloose routine. It's like Battle of the Network Stars meets Dance Fever! Brilliant, I say. Brilliant!

In a case of celebrity serendipity, the Lindsey Lohan episode of VH1's Driven was on this afternoon and it reminded me how talented this girl is. She does have a certain presence on screen that is undeniably charming, which, I guess, should be the only thing that matter. The only thing I should really care about..... but come on a DANCE-OFF?!? Lindsey, from one Long Island girl to another, quit chain smoking like it's going out of style, stop tanning like the sun's about to go supernova, stop making out with guys old enough to be your dad, stop partying with Paris Hilton, for the love of god eat something and take a few years off, maybe go to college, to get away from all this crap because the road you're on now can only lead to one place... Tatum O'Neil anyone? Too harsh? Probably. That said, I will admit that I own two Lohan films and will probably see Herbie: Fully Loaded opening weekend. Why? Why not! (Angela Robinson is the real answer, but ....)

Did I just devote this much journal room to Lindsey Lohan? I think the only thing sadder than a dance-off is this entry. I'll stop now. I don't want to start any rumors... but did you hear the one about her... never mind.

posted by runnerbird | 9:24 PM

Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Festival Seating
In keeping with my New Year's resolution to get out there (and by there, I mean not here and by here I mean in front of the screen I am staring at right), I've made a vow to see at least one film at the Tribeca Film Festival. For the past two years, I've always missed out on the film screening fun. Yes, I know. What self-respecting New York film geek would miss out on any of this fun? Well, you make the mistake and assume I'm actually "self-respecting," but I digress. Will this actually leave the screening room called my living room and venture into an actual theater to enjoy films the way God intended, amid loud whispering and sticky floors? I'll let you know in a couple of weeks.

Browsing the hundreds of titles, I've narrowed my festival schedule down to three "must-sees" or "might-sees" as the case may be. Will this be worth ten fifty and a forty five minute subway ride?

Alchemy
What They Say: Can an university computer scientist (Tom Cavanagh, best known from Urinetown and TV's Ed) make a woman fall in love with his interactive computer before she succumbs to a well-known professor? His job depends on it in this romantic comedy.
What I Say: There aren't enough computer scientist romantic comedies. They are a very under-represented group as far as I'm concerned. I will be the first to admit the premise sounds like a script Jerry Lewis might have rejected back in 1956 (you know if there were computers back in 1956, but I think you get my point), but I have some much goodwill for Tom Cavanagh from his Ed days, I will watch anything he does (okay, maybe I didn't watch that craptastic ABC Family movie Snow, but frankly, I don't think Tom's mother bothered to TiVo it). Scrubs's Sarah Chalke as the object of his affection is icing on this Tom cake of love. Did I just use the phrase "Tom cake of love"? Uhm, yeah... we'll just forget I said that.

Adam and Steve
What They Say: In this over-the-top comedy, a 30-something gay man becomes involved with one of his most unsuccessful one-night stands-without either of them realizing they have met before. This at times raunchy romantic adventure features standout performances by Craig Chester, Malcolm Gets, Parker Posey, and Chris Kattan, and a hoedown.
What I Say: I forgive the unfortunate use of the word "hoedown" in the official festival description because the name "Parker Posey" proceeds it. I've forgiven a lot of films because "Parker Posey" is somewhere in the description (except of course, The Sweetest Thing, which should never be forgiven, only morally condemned and banished to a penal colony somewhere in the Pacific). I'm a sucker for any film exploring the concept of one-night stands. And did I mention Parker Posey? Just checking.

The Great New Wonderful
What They Say: Five separate stories set in the aftermath of New York City's omnipresent, but unmentioned, tragedy. From a boutique baker to a diplomat's bodyguard, each character has a story that quietly resonates internal grief, confusion, and the struggle of moving on. The incredible ensemble cast includes Maggie Gyllenhaal, Edie Falco, Tony Shalhoub, and Stephen Colbert.
What I Say: This is being touted as the first fictional film to deal directly with 9/11. We all knew it would happen eventually. The cast makes this one worth a look, but part of me is asking the important question, do I want the first fictional film to deal with New York's greatest tragedy to be from the director of Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle? and Dude, Where's My Car?. It could be great. It could be a tragic.

posted by runnerbird | 11:01 PM

Sunday, April 10, 2005
Office Space
Working at a corporation is like living in a sensory depravation tank where time and space have no meaning. Is it Tuesday? Wednesday? Has it been a year? A month? All the days seem exactly the same. There is little variation. Everything just blends together in delightfully depressing watercolor portrait where the trees, sky and grass all look the same. Why do I mention this? On Thursday night, out with a few co-workers, I realized I didn't remember how long I've been with the company. Two years? A year and three months? It all feels, looks, smells, tastes and sounds exactly the same. It was a depressing thought, made even moreso when I realized most of my co-workers have the same time/space problem. "Wait, did you start her six months ago? No, you've been here for three years, right?"

I need a new job. Perhaps at place where I am not three thousand cubic feet away from a window.

posted by runnerbird | 10:45 PM

Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Summer in the City
Spring has officially arrived. I can hear the Mister Softee truck outside my window as I type. This can only mean that summer is just around the corner. While I welcome the warm weather with open arms, here is an unorganized list of things I dread the moment the temperature climbs past seventy-five degrees:

- girls in shorts and mini-skirts, wearing Uggs boots. Although, any self-respecting fashionista should know that this look is so 2004, I'm sure there will be more than a few girls who didn't get the memo, strutting their stuff down fifth avenue in their hipster, wannabe boots and fake Prada backpack. Tourists, it's all right to point and laugh.

- the painful morning commute in B.O.-Land. Subway cars are already unpleasant and uncomfortable, but please, have mercy on the rest of us and have a heart. Don't walk out of the house without an extra dab of deodorant in the appropriate places.

- out of shape boys playing shirtless frisbee. I know it's hard to keep the pounds off in the winter, especially when the nights are so long and cold. I understand that gaining an extra five or ten pounds is probably much too easy, so it is with great sympathy that I say, please keep your shirts on boys. Love handles, back acne, back hair and a beer gut is not an attractive look. Those of you, however, who have nice abs, biceps and actual muscle definition, please feel free to take it off.

- the ... smell. I've lived in New York City for twenty-six years. That's twenty-six summers. I have yet to find the proper descriptive words to fully capture that smell that lingers around certain sections of this city once the temperature hits the upper seventies. Lord help you if you happen to be surrounded by that smell when it's near hundred with ninety-five percent humidity. I'm sure that would be considered torture in most countries.

Star Sighting of the Week: Sex and the City's Chris Noth walking along University Place. Yes, he looked good. No, Carrie Bradshaw was nowhere in sight.

posted by runnerbird | 11:14 PM

Friday, April 01, 2005
The Friday Five
Since my life this week couldn't get any more boring, even if I spend the seven days watching paint dry, I will now answer the questions from The Friday Five, the movie edition:

What's the one movie you've seen more times than any other?
This would probably be a tie between The Silence of the Lambs and Dirty Dancing, which can only mean I'm destined to become a serial killer who wants to dance salsa. Or perhaps a law enforcement agent who must struggle with an unwanted pregnancy. I've watched Dirty Dancing more times than necessary, more times than should be legal and, really, more times than any person with half their sanity in tact. Dirty Dancing speaks to those of us who are a bit uncoordinated, a bit on the plain-jane side and a bit of a dork and sells us the dream that one day a chiseled, devastingly attractive guy with a heart of gold will notice us on the crowded dance floor. Nobody puts Baby in the corner. On the other end of the spectrum (and by this I mean, a completely different spectrum), The Silence of the Lambs convinced me for about three months that I could be an F.B.I. agent, but that dream died when I realized I had no physical abilities beyond sitting on my ass. There is no way I could run the Quantico field course. And hell, I look horrible in pants suits. The Silence of the Lambs, however, is one of my favorite films because it is about a woman doing her job well.

If you could turn one book, comic book or other print story into a feature-length movie, what story would you pick and why?
Most of the books I read are either non-fiction or really commercial books that probably had the film rights brought before it was even published. There is one book I would love to option into a feature length film. I've always thought there was something quite special about the book Some Girls by Kristin McCloy. It's a bittersweet story of girl moving to New York City and her complex friendship with a mysterious and slightly dangerous neighbor across the hall. I love it because it is so thoroughly New York. It would be a film with almost zero commercial appeal since no one gets killed, nothing is blown up and is essentially a study of the complex nature of female relationships.

Whom would you cast?
The girl who moves from Texas to the big, bad city would have to played by someone who could exude innocence, yet a strange confidence and passion beyond her twenty-three years. In a few years, a Jenna Malone or Evan Rachel Wood type would probably fit the bill nicely. For the jaded, older neighbor with a mysterious and alluring aura, I'd have to go with some like Julie Delphy or maybe Emmanuelle Beart. I think I need to stop watching so many French films.

What one movie would you like to see "updated for the year 2005"? (Ie, a remake)
I will preface this by saying I hate remakes with the burning fire of a thousand suns, but if someone was holding a gun to my dog's head and I had to choose, I'd remake the 1935 film Nothing Sacred. Whenever I watch this film, I always marvel at how little has changed and how revelant this film is now (probably even more so). The film is about a small town girl who is diagnosed with radiation poisoning. She only has a few months to live and decides to spend her last few days in New York City. Her bravery in battling her disease makes her the "darling" of the American media, but it turns out she isn't dying. Now, she must keep her secret from the media, her well-wishers and most importantly the reporter she has fallen in love with. It's a great, funny satire on the cult of celebrity in the United States. This film could have been made last year and it would have been fresh.

What one movie are you most looking forward to this year?
It pains me to admit it I am counting the days until Star Wars Episode III. This is the part of the story that I've been waiting for since I was four, damn it. How could I not be excited? Okay so the other two prequels sucked in magnitude that can only be measured via a reichter scale, but how could I not be excited for Yoda and the Emperor fighting it out, the birth of the twins, Chewy, Obi Wan and Anakin's fight to the death, round one, the destruction of the Jedi Order, Anakin putting on the Vadar suit for the first time. I mean, how bad could this suck? Yeah, don't answer that. Let me live in my perfectly constructed illusion, at least for the next month.

posted by runnerbird | 11:05 PM