Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Wonderfully Inappropriate
I have just returned from a weekend on the bright, sunny and delightfully warm Southern Californian coast that can only be described as wonderfully inappropriate on many levels. Good thing none of this weekend was caught on tape because that would be a bit embarrassing... oh wait. Right. My friend just had to whip out her DV camera to record the memories forever. Someone's fond memories is other person's blackmail material, but more on that later or never. I only had two hours sleep last night. I think I'm coming down with a rather nasty cold-type thing. The prospect of getting on another plane in less than seventy-two hours for another long weekend in Ohio (of all places) is enough to make me a bit achy, but damn, if that wasn't, like, (insert Valley Girl accent here), the best vacation ever! It was much needed and much welcomed at any rate.

You know you're having a good time on vacation when you forget to eat. Who has time to eat when there are movies to watch, hills to hike, discussions to be had and much driving to do? As with every other trip to L.A. previous to this one, there are many object life lessons I learned and other bits of drivel that will make sense to no one except those involved:

- Obligatory Star Sighting of the Trip: Seth Green having a late brunch at the WeHo breakfast spot The Griddle Shop. Yes, he's short. No, I didn't bother him. I was too busy eating my own three million calorie meal to really notice him. Wait, whipped cream isn't a carb, right? Pancakes? Never mind. It still boggles my mind that women who have waists the size of my thigh eat at this place. The portions are huge. Butter, fat and carbs in every dish. Whatever, I'm sure they heave it up later.

- Always beware of the phrase, "it's a bit steep," when hiking up the hills of Runyon Canyon because it is... steep. Also, not a very good idea to try to conquer these hills when the sun is at its peak. While I did enjoy my hike uphill, losing my footing only occassionally and getting a nice tan for my trouble, some things are best left to those in the human race that are actually in shape. A shape that isn't round. For all my bitching, however, the view was worth the sweat. It was simply gorgeous. I wish I had proof (i.e. pictures from my digital camera), but I don't think my camera would have survived the journey.

- Ladies and gentlemen, I can now say that I've seen the WORST MOVIE EVER MADE. Yes, the caps are warranted. I saw a midnight Rocky Horror type screening of a film called The Room. To even describe this film as a "film" is doing a disservice to the word. I've seen porn with better continuity and acting. Did I just admit to watching porn? Never mind. You know what I mean. The film has no continuity, the worst acting I've ever seen, characters who enter and exit the film with no explanation. I loved it, however. The color commentary provided by the audience was priceless. The audience tosses spoons at the screen. They toss a football around. They laugh at the films many pointless sex scenes. I need to see this movie again. I'm hoping this thing catches on in New York because I would love to yell "Dennnnnny!" at the screen at least one more time this year.

- Best dollar I ever spent. I'm a tease.

- My friends and I have this tradition of driving Mulholland Drive at night to gawk at the houses we will never afford while listening to cheesy pop music. Occassionally, we bring donuts. Try it sometime because I will tell you right now that eating a donut at 2:30am while winding that road with Paula Abdul in the background is a thing of beauty. Fortunately (uhmm, maybe unfortunately) my friend decided to chronicle this journey on video. And if a donut happened to hit you on the head around 2:45am in the vicinity of Mulholland Dr... I apologize.

- Lena "Fucking" Olin.... Sweet Mother of Nadia. This is funny only after watching two hours of Alias.

Whatever happens in L.A. stays in L.A., right?

posted by runnerbird | 4:25 PM

Monday, May 23, 2005
At the Movies
My brain is already on vacation. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have left the building. My brain is on a beach somewhere in Santa Monica, sipping a cool beverage and getting some much need rest from staring at two thousands lines of code for seven and a half hours. My body, however, is still here in New York, freezing its ass off and wondering if it's Thursday yet. This is just one, long excuse for why the following entry will suck. If my brain were actually here right now, I could think of clever, witty puns to entertain you, but alas, I'm not really here. Since the only thing I know how to really write about when I don't have a brain at my disposal is film, I shall talk about the film I've recently spend my hard-earned cash to see.

The Motorcycle Diaries
This is the kind of movie that makes me want to quit my job, sell all my worldly possessions, leave this existence behind and drive the Pan-American Highway, but first I need to, you know, learn how to drive. A young Che Guevara travels South America with his best friend and finds his ideas on life, justice and equality are forever changed. Truth be told, I was too distracted by the pretty that is Gael Garcia Bernal and Mia Maestro to truly process this film on any other deep, philosophical level. Yes, yes...socialism, injustice, poverty... god, his eyes are beautiful.

Annie Hall
"I'd never want to be a member of a club that would have me for a member," and thus begins a story that could have been ripped from the pages of my life... if I was a forty-something, Jewish comedian in the mid-seventies. How I lived my entire life without seeing this film I have no idea? And I call myself a fan of quintessentially New York romantic comedy. Pshhpft. I should be ashamed, but I don't think I would have appreciated this film quite as much if I saw it ten years ago. This is the pinnacle of Woody Allen's comedy glory. A perfect marriage of the silly and the observationally funny, Annie Hall is about as New York as New York films get. I'm not even sure what exactly a "New York Film" is, but this is it. My feelings on love and relationships are summed up by the following statement:

I though of that old joke, y'know, the, this, this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, "Doc, uh, my brother's crazy. He thinks he's a chicken." And, uh, the doctor says, "Well, why don't you turn him in?" And the guy says, "I would, but I need the eggs." Well, I guess that's pretty much how I feel about relationships. Y'know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd and, but, uh, I guess we keep going through it because, uh, most of us need the eggs.

posted by runnerbird | 12:43 PM

Sunday, May 22, 2005
Girrrrrl!
There is no greater magic in the world than making someone laugh. I can remember the exact moment I realized I wanted to be funny. My parents and their friends watched Robin William's Live at the Met comedy special on tape. Sitting on the floor of my living room, I looked around at their faces, happy, red and tear-streaked, and I thought to myself, this is something I want to learn to do. So, I became a student of stand-up comedy. I would watch hundreds of hours of comedy a year. Whoopi Goldberg, Billy Crystal, Paul Reiser, Richard Lewis and George Carlin were all my teachers. I wanted to learn what made these people funny. I don't know if I ever really came up with an answer or if I really learned to be funny, but I did lots of laughing. Lots of it. I still love stand-up comedy. Wanda Skyes, Chris Rock and Margaret Cho make me laugh these days. I was lucky enough to see Margaret Cho last night and the laughter continues to linger.

Margaret Cho on the New Pope:
"Like he's the judge of normal with his gold robe and matching gold hat. Living in a house with five hundred mens, surrounded by the finest antiques. He's living like Verasce."

Margaret Cho on Ronald Reagan:
"I thought he was dead so when I heard he died I was like He died... again?"

Margaret Cho on Viagra:
"Let's see we could cure AIDS. Cancer. Hmmm, no the world needs more hard-ons."

Margaret Cho on her mother:
"My mother lived during the Korean War. She knows how to hide shit."

Margaret Cho on Bjork:
"Bjork will fuck you up!"

Of course, all of this is about ten times funnier in context, but I'm only writing it down to amuse myself.

posted by runnerbird | 11:19 PM

Saturday, May 21, 2005
Utter Destruction
I don't normally watch Alias on TV. I am a fan of the series, but I usually wait until I can watch it all at once on DVD. Then, I watch it in a twenty hour viewing fest that usually involves a comfortable place on the couch, my most cosy pajamas, lots of coffee and minimal bathroom breaks. This season, I've watched the show on and off because it comes on right after Lost, and because my TV schedule is fairly empty these days. The episodes I did catch were fairly yawn-worthy. I think there was an episode where Nadia, super spy Sydney Bristow's younger sister, got shot. One where Sydney was buried alive. Another one where Vaughn was looking for his supposedly dead dad... or something. Let's just say this season has been fairly unremarkable. Until this week's set of episodes.

SpyMommy is back. SpyMommy is alive. Squeee! No, really. I made that noise more than once during this week's episode "Search and Rescue" when we learned that Sydney Bristow's maybe evil mother, Irina Derevko was alive. She was thought dead by the world for almost two years. Her husband and Sydney's father, Jack Bristow, killed her after he thought she put a hit out on Sydney. I know what you're thinking, this is one fucked up family. You'd be right, but it is a sweet sort of fucked up. Add Nadia, Irina's daughter, a product of her affair with Arvin Sloane, Jack's best friend and boss, to the mix and I think we've just cross the realm of fucked and into the world of truly, fucking fucked up. But let me backtrack for a second. Or maybe those of you unfamiliar with this show should just stop reading this post.

When last we saw Irina Derevko, she declared her love for Sydney before jumping off a high-rise building in a daring escape. I think a little piece of my love for the show went with her. Flashforward to the beginning of this season where we learned Jack killed Irina and I thought to myself, "No more SpyMommy! I hate this show." Lena Olin injected season two with this amazing vigor and tension that has been lacking the past couple of years. Plus, her chemistry with Victor Garber is a thing of beauty. Rwwoarr! It should come as no surprise then that I've been playing this week's episode on a continuous loop. Perhaps, my happiness at Irina's return has blinded me, but I want to declare it the best episode ever. I want to, but I won't... for now.

The episode's plot, something about stopping Irina's really evil sister Elena from unleashing a 17th Century doomsday device on a unsuspecting public, was almost an afterthought for me. Damn, remember the days when evil plans for world domination were as simple as stealing a nuclear weapon and holding the world hostage for a ridiculous sum of money? Those were the days, but I digress. There were three scenes I really wanted to see in this episode. Sydney and Irina seeing each other for the first time since she jumped off that building. Irina and Jack seeing each other for the first time since she betrayed the CIA. Irina meeting her daughter, Nadia for the first time since she was minutes old (she was taken away from Irina moments after birth by the evil Elena...evil, I say, evil). None of these scenes disappointed me.

I will say right here and now, I love the character of Nadia Santos (affectionately called "SpySkipper" by some on the internet). She is the only reason I've even been watching this season. She grew up in an Argentinean orphanage and spend most of her teens on the streets, committing petty crimes before she was captured by the police. She was recruited by an agency that she thought was the Argentinean equivalent to the C.I.A., but it turns out they were the bad guys. Her life path and that of her big sister have run parallel tracks, but unlike Sydney, Nadia has a dark, violent streak. Her first instinct is to kill, questions later, much later. She doesn't hesitate to pull that trigger, repeatedly. Nadia is Faith to Sydney's Buffy (oh yes, I'm breaking out the Wheldon references, again...it's a habit I must stop). Nadia wants so badly to believe there is good in her parents (two people who have done some really evil things) because on some level she needs to believe there is good in herself. Can you tell I've thought entirely too much about this?

So, after this long character exposition, it should come as absolutely no shock that my favorite scene of the entire episode is Irina realizing Nadia is her long lost daughter. Lena Olin and Mia Maestro are truly amazing in this scene. From the hushed way Nadia says "just some clothes" to the way Irina whispers "oh, sweetheart" when they hug, it is beautiful. On a completely different, but somewhat related tangent, can I just say that whoever casts this show should be given a nice, big bonus or maybe a nice, bear-hug because I completely buy that Irina, Sydney and Nadia are family. Sydney and Nadia both have their mom's cheekbones. Sydney has her mom's jawline. Nadia has the slight clef in her chin. Seriously, it's scary.

I'm already counting the hours until the season finale. I love it already. I mean, it has SpyMommy. What more is there left to say except... Yes, you're both on comms right now!

posted by runnerbird | 3:37 PM

Friday, May 20, 2005
Sith Happens
"You were the chosen one," Obi Wan screams during the climatic light saber fight with his former student turned Sith apprentice, Anakin Skywalker. The disappointment, sorrow and pain in his voice is simply haunting. The film I've been waiting my entire life for opened all over the world yesterday and I can safely say this is the best Star Wars film ... made after 1983. Like Obi Wan, the promise and ultimately disappointment bring me much pain, but it could have been worse. Jar-Jar worse. Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith is not a very good movie. The dialogue brings new meaning to cringe-worthy. The acting is so wooden one could build an entire 18th century-style settlement in Colonial Virginia. Yet, I respect this movie and its ambition. I like what George Lucas was trying to do, a Greek tragedy with lightsabers, but the execution left much to be desired.

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past thirty years or if, perhaps, you've been living a hermit-like existance in Colonial Virginia, I won't be spoiling anything by revealing that Anakin Skywalker turns into Darth Vader. His journey from slave boy to ultimate black-cad bad-ass is one marked by exploitation of very real human flaws. Anakin Skywalker isn't necessarily a bad man, but he is undone by his need to control things out of his control. His need for admiration and respect. His need to save those he loves from pain. All of these human weakness are what turns Anakin into more machine than man.

Now that we've gotten what I loved about this film out of the way, I can now nitpick it within an inch of its life. George Lucas is no wordsmith. Some of his dialogue is just... painful. Unfortunately, Hayden Christensen and Natalie Portman are not the type of actors who can turn crap into gold. Although, I don't think anyone can turn "Hold me like you did in Naboo," into gold. Even the good actors struggle in this one. Ewan McGregor delivers most of his dialogue like he just woke from a long slumber. Samuel L. Jackson looks like he a bit embarrassed. One can almost see a "what the hell am I doing here, mutherfucka" thought bubble above his head in almost every scene. Ian McDiarmid is only exception to this parade of bad performances. He projects this sinister air and an almost delightful glee in his role as the Sith Lord, perfect for a character who is moving every other character around like pieces on a galactic chess board. By far the best performance of the film belongs to Frank Oz. This was the first time since the original trilogy where I forgot Yoda was not an actual living, breathing entity. Just perfection!

Other Random Observations About Episode III:
(Spoilers Ahead)

- I thought it was amusing that Natalie Portman's entire role in this film was looking different levels of sad. Now, she pouts... misty... heartrbroken... sobbbbbbing.

- Was I correct in amusing Padme died... of a broken heart? Didn't the droid doctor say something like there is nothing physically wrong with her, she's just lost her will to live. What the ... yo, Senator how about living for your babies. You know, the twins you just named. Freakin' worst mom ... EVAH!

- Nitpick I must get off my chest. In "Return of the Jedi" when Luke asked Leia if she remembered her mom, her REAL mom. Did Leia say she did, but only a little bit since she died when she was very young? How can Leia remember her mom if she died when she was a minute old?

- There is one scene (the word "NO" is involved) and I won't spoil it for you that is just ridiculous. Ridiculous in a way that the word ridiculous doesn't quite capture. Ridiculous doesn't even begin to describe that scene. I think a new word needs to be invented, like "riduccolous" or "rideeculous."

- I loved ... LOVED... that some of the scenes between Yoda, Obi Wan and Senator Organa played out on the rebel ship being chased by the star cruiser in the opening moments of A New Hope.

- Did Chewy look a little... poofier... to anyone else? Maybe it was extra fur or maybe a few too many extra servings at the Wookie mess hall, but he looked a little thick. Also, I wanted more Wookies, damn it.

- The end of Obi Wan and Anakin's fight was brutal. If I was Vader, I would have been a little more angry when they had their second fight in A New Hope. "You cut off my legs, bitch!"

posted by runnerbird | 8:10 PM

Tuesday, May 17, 2005
I Hurt Myself Today
My neck hurts. Perhaps this is a sign that I am getting too old to attend rock shows. Perhaps, I should just stick to things that are a little more mellow like Coldplay and Keane, but, really, what is the fun in that? There is no way you can mosh to "Yellow". Last night, I saw Nine Inch Nails at the Hammerstein Ballroom. It was quite simply fabulous, speaking to the morose teenager who is still buried within the inner walls of my soul (yeah, and she fights all the time with the sunny ten year old who loved to listen to Sheena Easton). Recapturing that morose feeling of my teenage years never felt so good. Of course now, it just feels painful. My neck. God damn it, my neck.

Nine Inch Nails ripped through some of the biggest hits. There was no greater joy than hearing "March of Pigs" live. Why do we even refer to them as "Nine Inch Nails"? We all know it's Trent Reznor and some dudes. They should tour under that name next time, "Trent Reznor and Some Dudes."

Perhaps the most curious thing about the whole concert experience was being surrounded by couples making out. I don't know about you, but the opening few chords of "Head Like Hole" do not inspire thoughts of white, hot passion or kindle any sort of romantic thoughts.. If it was "Closer" maybe then I'd understand, but, seriously, why would anyone want to make out during "You Know Who You Are"?

posted by runnerbird | 9:23 PM

Wednesday, May 11, 2005
We Used to Be Friends, A Long Time Ago
Now that I've had a good twenty-four hours to let the season finale of UPN's Veronica Mars marinate in the deepest levels of my subconscious, I can now declare that this is the best show on network television ... that no one is watching. While most of you were watching the tragedy that is the WB's One Tree Hill or just leaving the TV on Fox because you're too lazy to switch the channel after American Idol so you helped House become a bigger hit than it should have been, you missed out on a cleverly crafted, teen neo-noir that was one part murder mystery, two parts angsty teen drama and all sorts of intelligent. Damned fool.

For those of you not familiar with Veronica Mars, which judging by the Nielsen number is roughly about ninety-seven percent of the United States with access to a television, I'll take the liberty of breaking it down for you. While most girls her age are busy worrying about their hair or having the right handbag to match their shoes, Veronica Mars is helping her dad, a former police sheriff and now full time private investigator, solve crimes in the town of Neptune, California. I know what you're thinking, sounds too "Nancy Drew meets McMillian and Wife, but without the whole Susan St. James angle and maybe a bit Scarecrow and Mrs. King sans Kate Jackson" for it's own good, but I'm just scratching the surface here, so stop thinking about obscure television shows and let me finish. Jeez!

First and foremost among Veronica's case load is to find out who killed her best friend, Lily Kane. This was the case that cost her father her job and made Veronica a social leper among the elite of Neptune High, a social circle was once apart of. Oh, but wait there is so much more to this story, like why did Duncan Kane, Lily's brother, suddenly dump Veronica a few days before Lily's murder? And who slipped Veronica the mickey at a party and took her virginity without her knowledge or consent? Why did Veronica's mother leave town without a word one day? Why was the head of security at Kane Software, a company founded by Lily and Duncan's father, keeping tabs on Veronica before and after the murder? Hmmm, doesn't all this sound just the least bit intriguing?

Many television critics have compared Veronica Mars to another show with a socially reclusive heroine fighting the big-bads all alone, the much missed, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer and while I believe this comparison is justified, I also think Veronica Mars has taken teen drama to another level. While Buffy was definitely dark and at times almost morbidly so, it was firmly rooted in the fantastic. All the teen angst was metaphorical. When Buffy slept with Angel for the first time, he turned into a demon. It was a metaphorical take on when a teenage girl sleeps with a boy and the next morning he turns into a cold, aloof asshole. When Willow was coming out as a lesbian, her exploration of magic and witchcraft was a metaphor for her burgeoning preference. Veronica Mars has no such metaphorical veil. It is unflinching, cold, hard teen reality (well, okay as "real" as TV fiction can be). In last week's episode, "A Trip to the Dentist," we finally solved the mystery of what happened to Veronica the night she was raped and it offered the viewer no easy resolution. Like life, sometimes there is no easy answer. Veronica has no superpowers, no magic. She isn't the chosen one. She has no special gift. She is just a smart, sassy girl who is good at solving crimes.

There are so many things to love about this show, I am almost at a loss as to where to even begin. Nothing turned out at all like I expected. At all. There was the unexpected turn in Veronica's relationship with her arch-nemesis and resident rich kid asshole, Logan Echolls. Then, there is her relationship to her mother, her possible connection to Jake Kane, her unresolved feelings for her ex-boyfriend, Duncan. It's all so beautifully complicated. Am I gushing?

Holding this wonderfully complex connection of characters together is Veronica Mars herself brought to life by the talented Kristen Bell. Either she's delivering a witty one-liner or crying her eyes out, she radiates an intense and fiery energy that make you believe that this girl could outwit the police at every turn, stand up to the town biker gang without batting an eye, yet at the same time act just a bit awkward and unsure on a first date with a boy she really likes (... but shouldn't).

Now, don't you feel foolish for not switching away from According to Jim for something a little more engaging. Well, we all do things we are not proud of. I'll try not to hold it against you. Lucky for you, UPN is running Veronica Mars repeats all summer long. Or if TV on DVD is more your thing, the complete first season is hitting shelves in September. I love you Veronica Mars, more than my luggage.

posted by runnerbird | 10:33 PM

Saturday, May 07, 2005
The Friday Five...on Saturday
Questions this week, courtesy of the Friday Five:

1. Do you believe in love at first sight? Why or why not?
I believe in instant connection, but not necessarily true love. Of course, it does take the moment of *boom, bang* to led towards the greater *pow, kaboom* that is love. Why am I describing love as if it were an old Batman episode? Who knows? True love at first sight is a fairy tale made up by mythmakers who want us to believe real love is effortless. True love and connection requires understanding and establishing a firm understanding of your partner takes time. A timeframe that is measured by a calendar, not a stop watch.

2. What physical feature attracts you the most (romantically) to another person?
Shoulders and noses. I don't think I've ever verbalized that before. God, I'm weird.

3. What do you think is the biggest benefit of being in a romantic relationship?
I was just discussing with a couple of friends that the only time I ever really become just a bit down about not having someone in my life is when I'm eating by myself. Not necessariy for the company, but I sometimes stare at the piece of chicken that I'm about to put into my mouth and think, "damn, if I start choking on this, I'm so fucked! No one is around to save me."

4. Biggest downside?
Uhm, everything else. Aren't I the biggest romantic?

5. Has your idea of love and romance changed? If so, how?
We've all been corrupted by the movies. We all don't want to be in love, we want to be in love in a movie where the fights never last, the sex is always great and you never run out of clever things to say. It was quite a surprise to get into the "real" world and realize relationship and love are hard. They require actual work. Nothing just falls into place. You need to be active in keeping a relationship in a perpetual state of motion or it will just stop and wither away. Love is like a shark, if it sometimes swimming, it just dies. Yeah, aren't I the biggest romantic? I think I've just solved the mystery of why I am still single.

Star Sighting of the Week: Star of Real Women Have Curves and the upcoming The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, America Ferrera. She emerged from the six train on the corner of 4th Ave and Layafette while a friend and I were getting coffee. She looked really confused, like she didn't know where she was. Not in a drugged out way, but in a "wait, which way is 2nd Ave?" sort of way. About three minutes later, while I was still chatting with my friend, coffee in hand, she interrupted herself mid-sentence and said, "oh my god, is that James Franco?" I turned, but only saw the back of this guy's head. I'd like to believe it was him because my circle of friends is very excited to see his next film, Annapolis, for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with James Franco.

posted by runnerbird | 11:14 AM

Monday, May 02, 2005
In The Mix
For those of you not playing close attention, this is my semi-regular feature of music I'm listening to at the moment that I roll out when I have nothing much to say. Aren't you all a-tingle?

The Postal Service - The District Sleeps Alone Tonight: I love this song for two reasons. One, it uses the word "gaudy" which runs a very close second to "moot" as the most underused adjective in popular music. Two, Jenny Lewis, lead singer of the band Rilo Kiley and star of Troop Beverly Hills, sings backing vocals on this track. Yes, I am much too easily amused. I do like this song because I don't quite understand what the singer is getting at. Is he mad at an ex for dumping him, but then visits her "new life" and realizes why he was the one worth leaving? He has a job where name tags are required? She lives in a gaudy apartment complex now. Perhaps, I am reading too much into this.

New Kids on the Block - Please Don't Go Girl: Now that I've acquired some indie pop cred by revealing that I like The Postal Service and I know who the lead singer of Rilo Kiley is, I shall have this cred stripped from me by now revealing that I've have listened to this song far too often in the past week. It takes me back to Junior High school parties when I was too young to realize this song was crap. I think now, however, I have a sweet appreciation for this song's straight up cheesy goodness. It's so generic. It's so pop. It's so very 1989. It's a whole lot of awesome. Jordan, I love you!

Erasure - A Little Respect/New Order - Temptation: These two songs remind me of montage sequences from the same film. I dare you to see D.E.B.S. and not walk out of the theater humming these two quinessentially 80s pop songs. Erasure is probably the very definition of pop synth 80s perfection. So very humable. So very danceable. "A Little Respect" is the kind of song that is so light and fluffy, it just floats in perfect weightlessness. New Order's "Temptation" has more of an edge, but conveys much the same "love is great, wheew!" sentiment. Sometimes, I miss the 80's. Sometimes...

posted by runnerbird | 10:04 PM