John Doe & Rorschach: BFF's

I’ve watched Seven three times in the past two days. (Does that make it 21 times?) Yes, this is a bit extreme, and slightly disturbing. But, it’s not quite what you think. I watched it straight through the first time, then with one of the four commentaries (Brad Pitt, Morgan Freeman, David Fincher), then with another commentary (Andrew Kevin Walker, Richard Dyer, Richard Francis-Bruce and Michael De Luca). Nearly every time I prepare to watch Seven, I have at that point forgotten just how great a movie it is. And, with this viewing, I was compelled to continue my exploration of the film by learning more about it. But I’m not going to recreate or duplicate the insight found on the DVD’s. For that, you should actually own a copy. Instead, I’d like to share my thoughts on some parallels I found between Seven and a certain popular graphic novel that is soon to be a film itself.

At a certain point in the “story” commentary, Andrew Kevin Walker casually mentions that he was living in New York, writing the screenplay and reading Watchmen, but this aside is more than just a casual name-drop or mention of reading habits. Instead, it becomes one of the most informing anecdotes on the writing of the film.

First of all, this shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Watchmen is one of the most influential pieces of fiction ever produced, causing ripples of influence upon anything it touches. Different elements of the complex and disparate storylines that interweave to make Watchmen have been cut up, dissected and copied / homaged in other projects. The television show Heroes used the idea of an acceptable sacrifice to save the world. In fact, Heroes didn’t even bother to use any kind of subterfuge in its homage by using the same exact percentage number of acceptable losses to save the world as a whole. Lost, a television show that does tend to do a better job in masking its influences, albeit only slightly, has dozens up on dozens of nods to Watchmen, to the point where there’s an entire page of parallels on Lostpedia. Hell, even the animated film, The Incredibles, takes its concept of a world where superheroes are banned / in hiding from Watchmen. In other words, borrowing from one of the richest pieces of fiction in history is par for the course.

Where Seven lifts from Watchmen is in its central antagonist, the enigmatic John Doe. He is, in essence, Rorschach (though he also has a bit of Ozymandias in him). The parallels are numerous. Both consider themselves on a higher moral plane, willing to subvert criminal law to justify their own ends and means. Both mete out vigilante ‘justice’ to uphold their own moral code. Rorschach and John Doe believe in moral absolutes. Rorschach’s morals are right wing extremist, and Doe bases his morals on the ‘Seven Deadly Sins,’ a code that Doe observes, correctly, is broken every day. (And this was before all the “Powered by Pride” stickers on pickup trucks everywhere).

Both seek anonymity. John Doe is, as Detective Somerset remarks, ‘John Doe by choice.’ He named himself, cuts off the tips of his own fingers to avoid fingerprinting, pays everything in cash, and essentially lives a quiet, Spartan lifestyle. Rorschach (aka Walter Kovacs), lives an incredibly similar lifestyle, alienating himself from the world, keeping a low profile, avoiding interaction, and even sporting a mask that never appears the same way twice, its trademark inkblots continually moving and shifting.

John Doe’s past is never mentioned in the film, though there are allusions and theories made by the detectives in the film. These theories match up with the past given to Kovacs, a disturbing childhood filled with humiliations, degradations, abuse and constant exposure to people in his environment breaking what would eventually be his moral code.

Though we may not be meant to sympathize completely with each character, we are meant to identify on some level. Rorschach is a vigilante hero, working outside the law to catch criminals and dole out his own form of violent justice. Ever since Batman, a direct response to the seemingly flawless and impervious do-gooder superheroes like Superman, comic book heroes have been doing this for decades, and those characters always seem the most popular. Batman, Wolverine, Deadpool, etc. These are the ‘heroes’ that garner the biggest followings. And while John Doe’s actions are horrific, we are meant to witness the last full conversation between Doe and the two detectives as a dialogue in which every point of view is valid and identifiable. Detective Mills’ simplistic view of the world sees Doe as insane, and that is an easy, surface way to look at the character. Somerset tries to speak to Doe on his level, trying to find chinks in the armor of moral absolutes by pointing out that martyrdom should exclude enjoyment. Somerset sees shades of grey and intellectual complexities where Mills sees black and white and mental imbalance. In that way, Mills and Somerset are actually seeing two sides of who John Doe really is, without ever putting the two together for a complete picture. In fact, Doe is portrayed as an intelligent foil to the character of Mills, who often shows his lack of smarts by mispronouncing names of important literary figures (“The Marquis de Sharday”) and reading Cliffs Notes instead of the actual books recommended by Somerset. Unlike many other fictional villains, the trail to Doe is found by use of the public library. Mills dismisses his intelligence as insanity when he says, “He’s a nut-bag! Just because the fucker’s got a library card doesn’t make him Yoda.”

We are, in fact, also meant to identify with John Doe. His speech about seeing the Deadly Sins broken every day is, while clearly incensed and motivated by that righteous moral absolutism, filled with observational truths. I, myself, have had a difficult time reconciling the hypocrisies of those who supposedly follow the Christian code of the Ten Commandments and continually break the Seven Deadly Sins. But, that would get me off on a tangent, so I’ll merely come back to the fact that, while stated with a certain amount of mania, John Doe’s point of view is meant to be understood and accepted. The difference between us, as law-abiding citizens, and John Doe (and Rorschach), is that while we may identify with these feelings of disgust and moral revulsion, we do not take the leap to act upon these feelings.

John Doe and Rorschach (and Ozymandias), do take the leap to act upon their moral outrages, and do so in an incredibly questionable fashion that breaks other laws and codes, civil, criminal, moral or otherwise. John Doe’s master plan is Machiavellian in nature and quite ingenious. So, too, is the plan of Ozymandias in Watchmen. They both feel as though their own individual grand schemes will change the world. John Doe states, “I’m not special. I’ve never been extraordinary. This is, though. What I’m doing.” Ozymandias states, “I saved earth from hell. Next, I’ll help her towards utopia.” While the latter statement is more grandiose, each anti-hero sees their work as important, and possibly leading toward a more utopian future, in terms of their own moral visions.

Finally, there is an odd bit of homage in the business of dead dogs. After Kovacs is arrested, he is shown, ironically, inkblot tests. One reminds him of a dog with its head split open. The therapist asks how the dog’s head got that way. Kovacs replies that he did it. At the end of Seven, after Doe is arrested, he leads Mills and Somerset to a remote location. There, they find a dead dog. Doe quickly responds meekly, “I didn’t do that.”

Though Andrew Kevin Walker throws out his Watchmen aside casually, there is nothing casual about the relationships between his movie Seven, and the iconic graphic novel by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. Specifically, we can see there are many parallels between the dangerous enigmatic vigilante characters of John Doe and Rorschach. The final thing I want to mention is that, in listening to the commentaries, I can’t believe that the producers and studio wanted this film to be changed in such drastic ways. This film, like Watchmen, is filled with complexity, darkness, is a mirror to society, and shines a harsh light on reality in all its ugliness. One producer in particular, an idiot in my opinion, remarked that Fincher turned a perfectly good cop picture into a foreign film.
Thank goodness he did.

The Price of Nostalgia, Part Deux

This is simply the proof that I was Speed Racer some years ago. So, the second price of nostalgia is self-humiliation. I will spare my brother the picture of the two of us together, with him wearing a pumpkin costume. Poor little dude....

The Price of Nostalgia

In less than a week, fans will be lining up around city blocks to see the man with the whip back in action. However, part of the problem is that the man with the whip, Indiana Jones, just got his AARP card. Likewise, Speed Racer is currently raking in some money at theaters with a live action film, sort of. Nostalgia based films are nothing new to the movie market, this is for sure, but something about this year’s crop has me more agitated than most. Of course, it may just be the motion picture industry we’re saddled with right now more than any particular year’s worth of films. But now I’m just splitting hairs.

Something hasn’t set right with me since I heard that a fourth Indiana Jones movie was going into production. Harrison Ford was already well into his sixties and the idea of bringing back a beloved film icon well past his prime for an action film was laughable. Sure, there was a part of me that was a little excited, as I love the character and the first three films. But then I began to hear details about the production.

The first thing that had me worried was that George Lucas hadn’t written a sequel in eighteen years because of a lack of ideas. A lack of ideas over that long of a drought means that it should probably have been left alone, like the Ark of the Covenant. Sure, the thing has the power of nostalgia, but it will ultimately destroy anyone who dares open it and retrieve its history. But, when Lucas finally did come up with a story, it was something akin to “Indiana Jones and the Flying Saucers,” or “…the Saucer Men from Mars.” Seriously. As part of a three-headed hydra with veto power, Harrison Ford and / or Spielberg nixed that idea and the production went on hiatus.

Cooler heads didn’t apparently ultimately prevail as the project went through multiple writers without success including four very capable writers in Frank Darabont, Stephen Gaghan, Tom Stoppard (no less) and M. Night Shyamalan, the latter of which couldn’t even finish a treatment as he couldn’t get the Trio to focus on what they wanted. (And it’s beginning to look like Kevin Smith’s tales of Hollywood idiocy aren’t so far fetched.) They ended up with David Koepp, a writer with some success whose flops can be overlooked for writing Panic Room and Spider-Man.

However, some of that alien element, reportedly, still survives the plotline. Ugh. Hasn’t the X-Files overmined this particular claim? (Speaking of which, there’s a new X-Files movie coming out later this year as well) Even with a script, we then get back to the still increasing problem of Indy’s age. To combat this, the Trio decided that the method of storytelling be less a 30’s serial form (which worked incredibly well for the first three films), and instead take cues from 50’s B-movies, as that was when the film would be set. Now, the Indy films never took themselves too seriously, but they also never became camp. I can’t believe this was ever approved.

To make matters worse, Spielberg demanded that Shia LeBeouf fill the role of the young man who could or could not be Indy’s son, as he reminded the ‘golden glow’ director of a young Tom Hanks. Apologies to any Tom Hanks fans out there, but that’s not exactly what Hollywood needs. Besides, LeBeouf already got in his nostalgia licks with the appallingly bad Transformers, of which there will be two sequels. Yay.

In a recent interview with Entertainment Weekly, Lucas predicted a massive fan backlash against the film. Whether it was because of most of the above problems or simply his experience in making the Star Wars prequels remains to be seen. It can be said, however, that a movie hasn’t had this much anticipation, this much marketing, including a tie-in novel written by an established writer, a comic book adaptation and several licensing deals, since The Phantom Menace. And we all remember how that one turned out. I haven’t seen this film, I’m not a Hollywood insider or rabid fanboy who finds a way to sneak into a preview screening. I’m simply a guy who grew up watching the Indiana Jones movies and despair for this new film.

But, not all others are like me. In fact, most of the population is probably the polar opposite. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull will be one of the biggest money making movies this year as people will line up for hours, possibly even days outside theaters. Hell, people will probably even dress up, just like they did for Star Wars. But my nostalgia meter works differently than most. Rather than become excited, I grow wary. My defenses go up. I’ve been burned too many times. As such, I will not go out and see this movie. I’m sure it’s going to be terrible. I’m sure I’m going to be disappointed. In Raiders of the Lost Ark, Indy’s friend Sallah expresses his concerns over the Ark thusly, “If it is there, at Tanis, then it is something that man was not meant to disturb. Death has always surrounded it. It is not of this earth.” The same can be said for the Indy franchise. It is far away one of the best series of movies ever made. They had action, humor, suspense, great dialogue and a sense of history and style. But if 18 years have gone by, without any real ideas to speak of to unearth the franchise, then it should be left alone. Spielberg and Lucas better hope their heads don’t melt.

On a final note about nostalgia, in this ever-increasing market of nostalgia based properties (i.e. Transformers, Speed Racer, G.I. Joe, not to mention the recent crapfest of old TV adaptations, such as Dukes of Hazzard and Miami Vice) there seems to be fewer and fewer original stories on film. Or, maybe it’s always been like this and I’m just hypersensitive to it right now because of the possible upcoming desecration of a beloved character’s adventures. But nostalgia is not reason enough alone to exploit the past. There must be something else, a story of substance with something new to tell. Otherwise, what’s the point? I dressed up as Speed Racer for Halloween when I was six years old, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to plunk down ten bucks to see it in theaters as a 36 year old. Go go go? No no no.

Television: The Wire

I heard an NPR interview with Ira Glass sometime over the last year that caught my attention. You read that correctly, it wasn't Glass' own public radio show, This American Life. Instead, he was doing the publicity circuit for his new 'television' show of the same title. As any interviewer might ask, this one wondered if Glass, a radio man, was somewhat apprehensive and derisive about the landscape of television. Glass responded with something that resonated with me, and something with which I wholeheartedly agree. He said that television is going through a new 'Golden Age.' To paraphrase, he says that as viewership declines for particular stand-by ideas due to either lack of interest or a wider variety of programming, those who create television are forced to stretch their comfort zones and come up with something fresh. Coincidentally, this is what I've thought about the music scene lately, as well. With more and more independent labels, and multiple instantaneous ways to have music heard, it is taking a very special kind of band to break out.

Anyway, this kind of televised creativity has been going on at HBO for quite a few years now. This decade, HBO has spawned some of the best programming in television history with Six Feet Under, Deadwood, The Sopranos, Carnivale, Rome, In Treatment and Band of Brothers. I don't know how I passed over The Wire. Maybe it was the glut of police procedurals on the networks with umpteen Law & Order spinoffs and CSI's to make you S-I-C-K. But, eventually, I was convinced by my brother to watch the show. In years past I've called various and sundry programs 'the best show on television.' Well, guess what, the series may have ended, but The Wire is the best show (formerly) on television.

Created by David Simon, The Wire is less a police procedural than a visual novel about Baltimore and the world of crime that envelops the city. In season one, we are introduced to Detective Jimmy McNulty, who becomes the central figure within the world of the Baltimore police. Through him, and his many screw-ups within the department, we meet the rest of the law enforcement team that become the Major Case Unit, attempting to overhear, in any way they can, incriminating evidence on the massive drug trade. In that same first season, we meet the Barksdale crew. Avon Barksdale, his nephew D'Angelo, second in command Stringer Bell and other various characters within the organization all made for worthy foils to the Police.

The second season brought in a new dimension, the dockworkers who find their business and their union less strong than it used to be, and so turn to aid in overseas smuggling to ensure their futures. Of course, everything then ties back into the Barksdale Organization, making for an intriguing web of crime and villainy. (Back to the villainy later). The third season adds three new layers, those of politics with mayoral hopeful Tommy Carcetti, rival drug boss and overall vicious bastard Marlo Stanfield, and the recently sprung from jail old-school gangster trying to make his way in a new world, Dennis "Cutty" Wise. The third season is where things got interesting. With all of these storylines, it set up a vast number of intricacies that would continue up until the end of the series. Also, the third season provided a timely analogy to the war in Iraq with the more straightforward war on drugs.

The fourth season introduces four public school kids who are torn between a life on the corner, selling drugs, and the far less likely 'way out.' Namond Brice, son of imprisoned Barksdale enforcer "Wee Bay" Brice, Michael Lee, a boy looking out for his younger brother despite their junkie mother, Dukie Weems, whose parents steal everything he brings home to sell for drug money, and Randy Wagstaff, an adopted foster child, are our central figures. Despite their seemingly unavoidable destinies, where these boys end up might surprise you, and ends up being one of the most interesting aspects of the fifth season. That fifth and final season layers on the newspapermen of the Baltimore Sun, tying in the lies and deceit of the print with the lies and deceit of the police, especially one Jimmy McNulty, and the code of ethics of their peers such as Bunk Moreland and Augustus Haynes. Meanwhile, we are introduced to two of the most vicious people to ever appear on the show, Chris Partlow and Snoop Pearson, Marlo's ruthless henchmen. The fifth season is the final season, and aside from Six Feet Under, probably the best last fifteen minutes of a show ever aired.

I have saved the best parts of The Wire for last. There are two characters who have appeared in every season, sprinkled throughout so as not to overpower the main storylines, but enough to become the more interesting and popular characters on the show. The first is named "Bubbles," an addict who is often a 'C.I.' (Confidential Informant) for the Baltimore Police. Over the years, the well meaning but down on his luck Bubs repeatedly goes on and off the drugs, is abused by the cops, the other street dwellers and his own family members. Through it all, Bubbles tries to see the good in things and people and we can't help but connect with him, no matter how disparate our lives may be to his. The second character is Omar Little. Omar, somewhat a Baltimore streets 'spook story,' is a criminal with a code. He will only rob from those who prey on the community, i.e. the drug trade. He is the only major character on the show not to use profanity. He would normally seem somewhat an outcast, being an openly gay street thug, but is the most feared individual on those streets. When he walks down the street in PJ's to buy some cereal, kids flee in terror screaming, "Omar's comin', Omar!" One of the more haunting soundbites in the show is Omar whistling his threatening theme, "The Farmer in the Dell." When he whistles that tune, you know you're in trouble.

Omar and Bubbles are probably the most complex characters in a show filled with complex characters. Bubbles, aside from the major players in the police, is one of the only characters to have appeared in the first and last episode, making a particularly long and intriguing story arc. Omar's story shares a similarly mirrored and bookended storyline going from the third episode in the first to three episodes from the close. David Simon has claimed that there are almost no redeeming characters in the entire show, save for maybe Leandor Sydnor, one of the Major Case Unit Detectives, and even he has his moments. This show is a televised and dramatized novelization that's based on reality, and that's what makes this show so special. Life is gritty and ugly, with slight moments of hope, and this is exactly how the City of Baltimore is presented here. Five seasons just wasn't enough...

It's a Beautiful Day For a Ball Game...

It's been a fairly good week compared to most. Why? Well, going backwards, the week ends with the fourth season premiere of Battlestar Galactica. That alone is enough to put a smirk on my face, and I'll write a separate blog on that terrific show. But, there was also a new album release by R.E.M. that puts them squarely back to a place when they were relevant and rockin'. And again, I'll write a separate blog on Accelerate later. But the week started with one of the holiest of holy days, Opening Day.

Baseball has been a life long love for me. My parents took me and my siblings on regular trips to Dodger Stadium when I was very small. Those excursions to the ballpark are the most vivid memories I have of my childhood. Back then, and even now, there is something magical about the ballpark, and especially Dodger Stadium. You'd think that with the sport being as storied as it is, that a stadium built in 1962 would still be considered relatively new, but it is now the 4th oldest park in the Major Leagues, and will possibly move up if and when the Yankees and Red Sox build new parks. (I just can't see the Cubs doing it, Wrigley will probably be around forever, or until they win a World Series, whichever comes first). That perfectly tended grass, that beveled roof in the outfield, those yummy Dodger Dogs, they're all parts of why I love Dodger Stadium, and were great contributors into why I love the game.

There's no way I could do justice to the game of baseball as a whole in the way that has already been done by writer / director Phil Alden Robinson in Field of Dreams. So, take a little side excursion and watch here why baseball is the best sport in America.

I grew up watching one of the greatest infields ever to play the game. Steve Garvey at first base, Davey Lopes at second, Bill Russell at short and Ron Cey (The Penguin) at third. It's one of the last times I can remember that an entire infield was feared both on the field and in the batter's box. Sure, A-Rod and Jeter aren't slouches, and Cano is turning out to be a great second baseman, but there's usually one out of the four positions that struggles. There have been a couple of World Series titles since then, in '81 and '88, but true blue Dodger fans have been waiting ever since. Remember, as opposed to the pre-2004 Red Sox and the Cubbies, the Dodgers are actually one of the more successful ball clubs in the league. They are second only to the Yankees in terms of World Series appearances with 18!

As the saying goes, "Wait Until Next Year," and hopefully, that year has begun. Player acquisition is always a tricky business. The balance of farm-raised talent, supposed star trades, and veterans with a penchant for injury is never easy. They've tried the superstar thing with a number of aging pitchers (Kevin Brown, anyone?) and they've also tried the Sabermetrics plan with Paul DePodesta at the helm. That failed, too. And now, the Dodgers have seemingly gone back to the idea that I've loved and embraced about them, the idea of creating homegrown talent in their farm system. James Loney, Andy LaRoche, Jonathan Broxton, Matt Kemp, Russell Martin, Blake DeWitt, Jason Repko and Delwyn Young are all 'promotion from the inside' talent that has shone or will shine in the upcoming days, weeks and months. The problem is, they have to mix with the veterans, such as Jeff Kent, Nomar Garciaparra, Derek Lowe, Brad Penny and now Andruw Jones. In fact, Kent had words with Loney and Kemp about just such a problem.

So, how's this going to work out? Well, the Dodgers made what I think is the best move in all of baseball this year, and it didn't involve a player. Frank McCourt went out and got one of the most proven managers in the game in Joe Torre. Although, like most, I generally hate the Yankees, I've always respected Torre. He had a head for the game, with both a fire and drive to win, but also an even temperament to withstand pressure with ease (who else could last that long with Steinbrenner in charge, having to live on pins and needles for your job every year?). If there's one guy who could make the biggest impact on the Dodgers' success this year, it's Torre. Many of the pundits have the Dodgers placing third at best by the end of the year, but I'm hoping for a surprise. After all, wouldn't it be great to see the Dodgers play the Yanks in the series, yet again? But this time, Torre will have this revenge against his old team.

March Madness, Bracket Gladness

It's a sports' lover's favorite time of the year. Why? Because you have the NBA Playoffs coming up. With the NHL, it's the same thing. Spring training is here for MLB fans, and college football teams are just starting to practice. But above all, the best ticket in sports right now is NCAA hoops, March Madness, the Big Dance. 65 teams enter, only one leaves. With a 'one and done' system, and the lowest percentage of divisional teams actually participating, it's probably the toughest championship to win in all of sports, but it's also the most fun to be a part of.

No, I've never played in the tournament. That's not what I meant by being a part of March Madness. There are many other ways to be a part of this great spectacle. The first is easy for anyone who attended any of the schools amongst the 65. In the interest of fairness, I graduated from UCLA. So, guess who I'm rooting for?

The next way to participate is a standard ritual amongst groups of coworkers, friends and fellow students, that being the almighty bracket pool. Every year, thousands upon thousands of people take some kind of approach, whether mathematical, personal, or otherwise, and fill out a bracket, hoping to either win a bit of cash, or at least bragging rights among their friends. These brackets are so fun, they've become a part of pop culture in having face-off battles between any number of different arenas. I've seen them used for music, film and practically everything else. There's even a book on the subject, called "The Enlightened Bracketologist."
There's no way I could as much justice to the subject as sports-writing guru Frank DeFord, so I'll just link his little essay on the subject. Click Here. And, of course, I filled out a bracket this year. I was invited by my friend Jeremy who I went to UCLA with in the 1990's, the last time that the Bruins actually won a championship. Sure, they've come close since, but this seems to be their year.

To tell you the truth, when it comes to sports, I'm just a die-hard baseball guy. It's the only sport I truly love. I can watch any game at any time with any teams involved and be happy. I despise football, especially pro football. (College football gets a pass for my alma mater, but the BCS leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and so does the amount of money being fueled into this one college sport.) I can't get into hockey. The NBA is the epitome of selfish excess in my eyes with a huge tendency towards players than teams. But college basketball, that's different. Sure, a lot of these players are using this stage as a tryout for the NBA draft, but that's only a handful. For the most part, the only thing at stake is that actual championship and school pride, and that's how it should be.

Most of the fun in watching the NCAA Tournament is in rooting for the underdogs, and seeing a horde of upsets. I even found myself rooting for the underdog even if it ended up ruining my bracket! Case in point, USD. My sister went to the University of San Diego. They were always known as having a 'respectable' basketball team, a strong team amongst a bunch of strong teams in the West Coast Conference, but certainly one that couldn't measure up to the rest of the field in an actual Division I tourney. They proved everyone wrong this year by beating perennial dance attendees, Connecticut. Unfortunately, their run was put to an end by another upset winner, Western Kentucky. Somehow it seems as if the WCC teams always come out looking better than everyone at first thought, i.e. Loyola Marymount back when Bo Kimble was paying tribute to fallen friend Hank Gathers, or the jockeying attendees of Pepperdine and Gonzaga.

But, my favorite part of the tournament this year has been Davidson. Why? Not only is Davidson true to its name by being the 'son of David,' the offspring of the boy who smote Goliath, but I was the only person in my entire bracket pool to pick Davidson to reach the Sweet 16. That pick vaulted me from the middle of the pack to third! It didn't really matter that my Elite 8 picks are compromised thanks to losses by Duke and Pitt. (In fact, I really enjoyed watching Duke nearly eat it in the first round and then choke in the second.) Seeing the one team you really believed in, that one underdog you put your faith behind, not only win their first game against a tough Gonzaga team, but then win their second round against powerhouse Georgetown, well, that's a blast. For the record, I also have Davidson advancing into the Elite 8. For that, they'll have to get past #3 Wisconsin, but I don't see it as a problem. I originally had them beating USC to get into the 8, but the Trojans lost their first round match-up. And there's no way in hell I wasn't going to have a smirk on my face because of that.

But, when all is said and done, I am a Bruin through and through. There's no way around it. I'd have picked UCLA to win the whole thing even if they actually placed sixth in the Pac-10, making them the last to make the cutoff for the tournament. I love March Madness, filling out the brackets and watching the upsets, but I love UCLA more. Attending UCLA was one of the best times in my entire life and I have a lot of great memories. Watching basketball and football in Pauley Pavilion and the Rose Bowl respectively was second to none. And this year, with likely pro draftee Kevin Love, the super quick and accurate Darren Collison, shooter extraordinaire Josh Shipp, and my favorite feisty rebounder, Lorenzo Mata-Real, they have more than a chance, it's almost expected. Many said that their road to the Final Four was far easier than any of the other #1 Seeds. That may be true, but the remaining seeds in their bracket are #'s 3, 7 and 12, making it seem as if it was one of the brackets with the most parity, unlike North Carolina's East bracket, with its 1-4 seeds still intact.

Well, no matter. I have UCLA beating UNC in the final with a score of 69-67. Here's to hoping it's not actually that close, and that the Bruins wipe the floor with those heels of tar. Go Bruins!

Re-Tales: One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish

As an employee for any corporation, you have to keep any personal feelings and politics behind. But there are times when even a saint's patience can be tested. I've already said that customers aren't always right, but that isn't the half of it. Customers are people, and people can be downright opinionated, cruel and ignorant, such as in the following example:

With the ever increasing awareness of global warming, and its effects on every living being on this planet, a lot of companies, products and people are 'going green.' As such, we had a 'green living' display of books. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that our world is changing dramatically. In fact, if one wanted proof from that kind of credential, one only need look as far as last year's Nobel Peace Prize winners, shared by Al Gore and the IPCC, a panel of over 600 reputable authorities from over 40 countries. And yet, there are still people in the dark corners of this country who refuse to believe it.

One day, a customer decided to make his opinions known about the 'scam' known as global warming. Turns out, that's what his favorite conservative radio host had said. He held up a copy of Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth mere inches from my face, in a very aggressive manner, telling me what a 'load of hogwash' it was and how it was the biggest scam since, well I don't remember what, but I was starting to boil over. As politely as I could, I said that I wouldn't discuss that topic as I disagreed with him. Quite rudely, he responded, "that's because you don't know ANYTHING." At that point, I felt like abandoning the customer as, since I don't know anything, I surely can't help him any further. But, somehow, I continued. He kept talking about the subject with his friend, all the way to the book he requested. He simply couldn't accept that someone didn't feel the same way he did and had to vocally represent that dissent. To me, those are the actions of someone who is very insecure with his opinions.

Someone who is completely secure with their own ideas lets everyone have their say. Instead, bookstores are besotted with people we call 'book-turners.' These people, mostly conservatives, come in and willfully hide books by or about left wing politicians. Lately, their usual target is Hillary Clinton. If there's a stack of her books on a table, the top one gets turned over. A faceout on a display? Turned over. A spine showing on the shelf, turned so the pages face the customer. The really paranoid ones do a massive amount of shuffling so that Democratic books are pushed way back and covered with books about their own favorites. Is all this really necessary?

I've seen much worse than this, especially in the aftermath of 9/11, with people saying the most horrible things about coworkers who didn't happen to be 'American' in their eyes. It's simply deplorable. Books are supposed to be tools of learning, not tools of ignorance, and bookstores should be a place where everyone can come together. Unfortunately, I don't see that happening in our near future.

Interruption: Oscars 2008

I normally reserve Wednesdays for a blog about books, but I'm going to skip that this week to discuss this year's Oscars.

I am among the minority of people who thought this year's Oscars were one of the best in its 80 year history. It was one of the lowest rated Oscar broadcasts of all time, if not the lowest. That might have had something to do with the uncertainty up until mere weeks before the show that there might not even be a show due to the WGA writers' strike. Or, it might have had to do with other factors. For instance, this year's awards were dominated by independent films dealing with incredibly heavy issues and themes. There have really been only two other years in which independent films were so dominant, those being 1996 and 2002. 1996 had the dubious distinction, before this year's naysayers had their moment, of being the 'worst Oscars ever.' I couldn't disagree more. That year, The English Patient took home numerous awards including the much deserved Best Picture honors. The brilliant Fargo was also nominated for quite a few statuettes, making me wonder if the curse of 'worst Oscars' is the Coens' fault. 2002, in my mind, was far worse as Chicago won Best Picture over the much better films, LOTR: The Two Towers, The Pianist and The Hours.

This year marked one of the few times that I had actually seen all five of the 'Best Picture' nominated films before the awards ceremony. It was also one of the few times that I really wouldn't have minded if any of the five took home the prize. This obviously sets me apart from the rest of the country as most Americans didn't see these fantastic films. However, I did feel, as you could have seen from my earlier post, that No Country for Old Men was undoubtedly the best film of the year, and finally, the Academy agreed with me. This year being the polar opposite of 1992 when Spike Lee's magnificent Malcolm X was snubbed by the Academy with Al Pacino winning over the nominated Denzel Washington and Unforgiven winning over the non-nominated X. Nothing against Pacino and Clint Eastwood, but those were essentially token 'career achievement awards,' as both films did not even come close to representing their best work.

Another reason that these Oscars were maybe not as popular was the complete dominance of foreign winners and nominees. Let's take a look, shall we? Javier Bardem (Spain) took home Best Supporting Actor. Tilda Swinton (England) won Best Supporting Actress. Daniel Day-Lewis (Ireland) won Best Actor. Marion Cotillard (France) won Best Actress. On top of that, you have the duo of Glen Hansard (Ireland) and Marketa Irglova (Czechoslovakia) taking home the Best Original Song award! I can't believe there are people out there who would let this affect their judgment of the awards, but then again, nothing surprises me about ignorance in America.

The show itself was great, especially for a show that came together in such a little amount of time. Jon Stewart was funny, scratch that, very funny. This year we were spared the usually ridiculously elaborate staged numbers such as dance numbers for costume design or an 'it' singer (i.e. Beyonce) performing all of the nominated songs. Aside from the really dumb effects-laden intro and the even more absurd song presentations from Enchanted, the show was well put together. I even liked the parody 'tributes' to 'binoculars and periscopes' and 'bad dreams.' Hilarious. But the truly memorable moments came with the deserved winners and heartfelt speeches, or lack thereof and makeup moments. Javier Bardem's speech in Spanish to his mother was tearjerking. Marion Cotillard's utter shock was its equal. But the real magic came when, after the orchestra cut off Marketa Irglova as she approached microphone, Jon Stewart saved the day by bringing her out, post-commercial, to let her have her say. "Fair play to those who dream," was her message, trumpeting the work of independent musicians, and I couldn't help but tear up. This after a blowhard cinematographer at the Independent Spirit Awards complained about having to 'sacrifice' by taking only $3000 a week for his work. What a jackass. When you make more than 'a living' in doing some thing you love, you have no right to complain. Period.

This year's Oscars will always retain a special place in my heart, not only for the fact that there were some amazing films represented, or that there were some amazing speeches. It's special because of the music of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova and their little movie called Once. The music of Glen Hansard, the Frames, and his music with Irglova has always moved me, but in the context of the film it became even more meaningful. For the fact that this song beat out three Alan Menken tunes from Enchanted, a man who was won a total of 8 Oscars for Disney dreck, it means that people in the Academy shared my view. Fair play to those who dream...

Music: Out of Print, but not Out of Luck

One of the things I look forward to every year with Treblezine, the online music magazine that my brother and I host, is our 'best of the decade' feature. In 2004, we began with our survey of the 1960's, looking beyond the easy targets of the Beatles, Beach Boys and Dylan without leaving them behind. In 2005, we ventured into the 1970's, a fairly eclectic decade that saw the rise of metal, disco and punk. 2006 saw the overview of the 'me decade,' the 1980's, replete with more punk, post-punk, goth and new wave. The next year, 2006, we decided on a different plan of action. We would soon run out of decade's to survey (of course, before we start the process all over again, if we so decide. Maybe this time making lists of the best albums that didn't make the cut), and we needed a few stopgaps in order to get to 2010 to cover the 00's. So, in 2007, we did our survey of the best singles of the 1990's. Right now, a score of writers (literally) are furiously sorting out their favorite albums of that decade so that we may bring you that feature this summer. Then, next year, maybe we'll sort out the best singles of the current decade so far before we wrap things up in 2010.

Anyway, one of the best things about doing these features is being introduced to older stuff you may have missed out on while also rediscovering favorites you might have forgotten about. Unfortunately, a lot of times, the albums that fall into either category end up being out of print. Sure, we'll always be able to find Nirvana's Nevermind and Michael Jackson's Thriller, but those albums are ubiquitous enough to skip the 'owning' factor. As an example, one of my favorite albums of the 1980's was The Silencers' A Letter From St. Paul (1987). By the time I had to transfer all of my outdated cassettes to CD, the album had already gone out of print. I spent the resulting 20 odd years scouring used record stores for a secondhand copy to no avail, until finally, last year, I dug one up at Easy Street Records in Seattle. Yay! I was incredibly lucky, as copies are going for about $70 minimum on Amazon right now. Easy Street obviously had no idea what they were holding onto.

However, not every out of print CD is that difficult to find. Case in point, as we are working on the 1990's decade, I remembered two discs that were personal favorites. One was lost a while back, and one is with my ex-wife. Of course, both are now out of print. The former is Echobelly's On (1995). Echobelly is a band from London with a female lead singer, often compared to the Smiths, and quite often lumped in with Elastica and Sleeper, both of whom found a bit more success. The latter is a collaboration between Tim Booth, the lead singer of the band James, and Angelo Badalamenti, the composer with a long-standing working relationship with David Lynch. The album and project was called Booth and the Bad Angel, released in 1996. It's a gorgeous album, and far less creepy than you might imagine. I steeled myself for another long and arduous search, but found both on the previously mentioned Amazon for a song (pun intended). In fact, I was able to acquire a sealed (yes, manufacturer's seal with dogbone) copy of Echobelly's CD for a little over $2. The other wasn't sealed, but was in practically new condition for about $5 (due to its being a little more obscure). I received both copies in the mail from the individual used sellers within less time than the usual Amazon 'new item' turnaround, about 2 days!

So remember, even though an album you want might be out of print, you're not entirely out of luck. Here's hoping that your quest goes more like the one I most recently had, rather than the one that took me 20 years. Of course, one of these years, CD's might become a thing of the past, so you might want to start looking sooner rather than later.

Re-Tales: The Customer is Always Stupid

I've never believed in the old maxim that 'the customer is always right.' In fact, I haven't met anyone in the business, on any level, who believed even remotely in that statement. This kind of thing becomes even more relatively false in the world of entertainment retail. Why? Because we're dealing not with absolutes such as expired vs. fresh food or it fits vs. it doesn't fit. Books, music and movies are always a matter of taste. Most attempted returns are made simply because the customer didn't like it. (Or because Oprah implied that customers should return their copies of Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections or James Frey's A Million Little Pieces.) But, in this installment of retail, I'm not even going to get into taste. Maybe one of these days I'll get into the Oprah thing, but for now, I'm just going to concentrate on stubbornness and ignorance.

Before I go on, let me just say that I've had my own stupid moments. I'm not perfect. And one of these days, aside from the promised Oprah material, I'll reveal the one horrifically stupid moment that somewhat made me what I am today, a book snob. The difference between my gaffe and most by customers is that I'll admit I'm wrong. I remember one particular customer in a bookstore in Delaware. She was in her late 30's, early 40's, buying a book for her daughter's English class. She came to me at the counter and fairly rudely demanded a copy of, in her words, 'Jane Eyre by Jane Austen.' Well, if you know anything about books you know what's wrong with this request. I told her that I wouldn't be able to conjure up that particular book, but I could get her Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. We could have easily left it at that, she could have taken the book, purchased it, and been on her merry way. But, she wasn't about to be 'corrected' by a 25-year-old snob, so she lashed out. "I know who wrote Jane Eyre. It was Jane Austen!!" I had no other choice but to show her the complete written works of Jane Austen, pointing out the absence of said book, and then to give her a copy of Charlotte Bronte's well-known novel. In the end, she still turned up her nose at me and left in a huff.

Next Week: Feeling Blue in a Red County....

Television: In Treatment

Like an oasis in the desert, it came. The WGA writers' strike, a strike that I support wholeheartedly, threw a monkey wrench into plans for quite a few great programs. Heroes wrapped up a particularly weak storyline in only eleven episodes. The Office was entering into the original's untrodden territory and 30 Rock was certainly hitting its comedic stride before the interruption. Lost, with its new 'seasonette' strategy had to scramble to readjust. Most of my favorite shows have had either too short lifespans (Firefly, Arrested Development, Deadwood, Carnivale) or went on a bit too long, unfortunately outliving its own power (X-Files, West Wing). I don't mention Buffy, Angel or Veronica Mars because they are aberrations. They didn't quite fit the mold of normal TV and stories about these characters could have gone on forever (and in comic books, the first two are!) Only one show that I can think of off the top of my head went out on top, that being Six Feet Under, brought to you by the great HBO.

And in the vast wasteland created by the writers' strike, like an oasis in the desert, it appeared. In Treatment is the latest genius product from HBO, and another reason to feel great about television. If you're not familiar, it's a daily show. That's right, a daily scripted show, though more polished, professional and intelligent than a soap opera. Paul Weston is a psychotherapist played by the brilliant Gabriel Byrne. Every weekday, we get a glimpse into the lives of Paul's patients, and his own troubled personal life.

On Mondays he sees Laura, an anesthesiologist who is infatuated with Paul. She's stunningly gorgeous, incredibly intelligent, but slightly off kilter. On Tuesdays he sees Alex, a Navy pilot, conditioned to be mechanistic and unfeeling by the military, struggling to deal with the bombing of a school in the Middle East. On Wednesdays he sees Sophie, a teen gymnast who may or may not have attempted suicide, with a lot more going on under the surface. On Thursdays he sees a couple, Jake and Amy, whose marriage is fraught with paranoia and resentment. Then, on Fridays, Paul sees his own therapist, his old mentor, Gina, played by the wonderful Dianne Wiest. Michelle Forbes, who most people might know as Admiral Cain from the new Battlestar Galactica, masterfully plays Paul's wife.

Each episode, taking place solely within the confines of Paul's home office (or just outside), is a miniature play. In fact, you could easily see a few of the episodes dealing with one particular patient strung together and put on a stage. The dialogue, and even the silences, are well constructed. Every actor involved is a pro, from Byrne to Wiest and the patients in between, including Melissa George, Blair Underwood, Josh Charles, Embeth Davidtz and the amazing relative newcomer, Mia Wasikowska. Their magic resides in how they create elaborate lives outside of the room using only thirty minutes time and confined to the office. This is the hallmark of great acting. We absolutely believe that these people are real and the actors are who they portray. (As opposed to, say, Tom Hanks who, every time I see one of his movies, I simply see Tom Hanks playing someone, not a character).

As is with most HBO series, this show is highly addictive. Even with shows every weekday, you can't wait for the next installment. The show can be seen in two different ways. For one, it's about Paul, his life and career, and how he balances the two. In another way, each of the patients can be seen as part of their own weekly series. If you're just way too antsy to see what happens to Alex next, you can treat it as a weekly show after episodes have built up, and they build up fast. As of this evening, there have been 20 episodes. In normal TV land, this is almost an entire season. In Treatment is planned to consist of 45 episodes, or nine weeks of continuous daily programs. That's almost unheard of in today's entertainment climate, and a bold move by HBO. Of course, HBO didn't come up with this on its own. In Treatment is based on Beitpul, an Israeli drama that's been called the best in their own television history. So far, Beitpul has had two seasons and 80 episodes. Hopefully, HBO, Mark Wahlberg and Steve Levinson will be able to follow the Israeli show in its success for as long as it lasts. It's more than just a great show, it's a masterclass in writing, acting and human behavior. It was also there for me at the right time and right place, like an oasis in the desert. And thank goodness, it's a good long drink.

Books: Yet More Oscar Stuff

This year, three out of the five 'Best Picture' nominees were based on books. Not since 2003's four nominees have there been this many. All three, of course, are also up for 'Best Adapted Screenplay.' Those three are No Country for Old Men (novel by Cormac McCarthy), Atonement (novel by Ian McEwan) and There Will Be Blood (novel by Upton Sinclair). The two that round out the adapted screenplay noms are Away From Her (short story by Alice Munro) and The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (memoir by Jean-Dominique Bauby). I've read two of these books and can speak for those, and the films adapted from them, but not the rest.

Atonement definitely captures the feel of McEwan's wonderful novel. Christopher Hampton, the screenwriter, seems to dwell in adapting stories from the past; in costume dramas, if you will. He's adapted The Quiet American, The Secret Agent, Carrington, Mary Reilly and Dangerous Liaisons, for which he won the Oscar in 1988. So, this kind of thing was no fluke. The difficulties in adapting Atonement lay in a number of different ways. For one, there's the problem of point of view. How does one show what is going on versus what one perceives is going on? This is a key plot point early on in the book and film, driving everything that happens after. Another problem to overcome is the progress of time, tracking specific characters as they grow older, yet somehow maintaining that POV. Of course, Hampton tackles these problems with ease, constructing the screenplay so that it was not restricted by particular film conventions.

No Country for Old Men is one of the few adaptations I've seen that really captured not only the salient plot points, but also the tone, voice and descriptive power of the original novelist. Cormac McCarthy has written some incredibly dark material over his lifetime (though he started in the novel writing business late in his life). Books like Blood Meridian and The Road aren't exactly uplifting works. What they are, however, is brilliant pieces of literature. No Country for Old Men finds the Coen Brothers in sync with McCarthy in such a way as I've never seen before. Had this adaptation not been done by the Coens, we could have easily seen some horrible changes (i.e., a wrap-up to the money situation, certain characters surviving, our hero Sheriff figuring things out in a more linear way and staying in law enforcement). But the Coens got the point of the novel, which wasn't about a foiled drug sale, or a guy who finds money and lives on the run, or a bounty hunter. It's about the changing face of crime and violence in this country. It's about how lawmen of a certain era can't stem the tide or keep apace of the escalating evil created by greed. Although McCarthy actually does give us a little more about the money at the end of the book, it's unnecessary in the film to make their point. It doesn't matter whether Moss, Chigurh or a truckload of bandits end up with the money. What matters is that we know things don't end up well.

My favorite scene in the movie, for its acting, and the writing, is when Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, played by Tommy Lee Jones, is talking in a café with Moss' wife, played by Kelly Macdonald. For a while throughout the film, Bell and his deputy are trying to figure out how Chigurh kills his victims. In the café, Bell offhandedly tells a story of a slaughterhouse and mentions a device that punches a hole into the brain. There is no grand revelation speech, moment of clarity or even a change of expression. We know, in that moment, that Bell has figured out, whether at that time or some time previous, what Chigurh is using as a weapon. It's magnificently understated. In a 'Hollywood' film, you would have seen this elaborate scene where the Sheriff and his Deputy suss out what happened through a C.S.I.-like deductive reasoning session. Or, in that same café scene, you would have seen Bell telling the story, and then having this grand revelatory expression, something like leaning back in his chair, with a half smile, looking to the side, then shaking his head in disbelief. Thankfully, the Coens were in charge of this one, and we ended up with a brilliant scene and film.

Music: Original Scores

As it's Oscar week, I thought I'd write for a bit about original scores. Music is an important part of film, and has been part of the experience since before the character's voices could be heard. A pianist would accompany silent films in theaters all across the country. Today, we have a long history of great scores to look back upon: Nino Rota's Godfather themes, Bernard Hermann's many Hitchcock collaborations, Maurice Jarre's Lawrence of Arabia and, whether you like them or not, John Williams' many contributions. Great scores help set the tone of the film. As an example of how important music must be, try playing Keystone Kop music, or something from Spike Jones to the images in Schindler's List. It's disturbing in a whole new way. Music can make or break a film, or make it seem incredibly dated. Anyone seen Beverly Hills Cop lately and heard the "Axel F. Theme?" But great films deserve a great score. This year, there was one that was a cut above the rest, and one that was great. The former didn't even get a nomination while the latter will probably deservedly win. At least, I hope so.

As an aside, original songs are another matter. This is one category that Oscar almost never seems to get right. To paraphrase Mickey Rooney in his cameo appearance in The Simpsons: "Shallow? The only thing shallow about show business is the music industry!" Anyway, since 1960, the only original song winners I've liked include "Moon River" (1961), "Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head" (1969), "Theme from Shaft" (1971) and "Streets of Philadelphia" (1993). The 90's were fairly well dominated by Disney's animated films winning Best Original Song, and this year finds 3 out of the 5 nominated songs coming from Enchanted, the Disney homage. The spectacular film Once gets one nom, and August Rush gets the other. If any film deserved multiple nods it is Once. But what about the great stuff from Music & Lyrics? or the Mastodon track from Aqua Teen Hunger Force? or the music by Joe Henry and Loudon Wainwright from Knocked Up? How about the Spider-Pig song from The Simpsons Movie? Or almost any of the songs from the Eddie Vedder Into the Wild soundtrack. Or one of the magnificent Sondre Lerche songs in Dan in Real Life? Or better than all of these put together, the fantastic new funk jams in Superbad? Anyhoo, back to the scores:

This year's original score nominees include Dario Marianelli for Atonement, Alberto Iglesias for The Kite Runner, James Newton Howard for Michael Clayton, Michael Giacchino for Ratatouille and Marco Beltrami for 3:10 to Yuma. Notice anything odd about this list? No, this isn't a reference to the three Italian names, I'm merely pointing out the ridiculous absence of Jonny Greenwood and his score for There Will Be Blood. Above all of the nominees, Greenwood's is the score that impressed me the most, albeit with Marianelli coming in at a close second. After the title card, Greenwood's score is omnipresent. The strings rise into a frightening peak which then becomes a recurring theme for Daniel Plainview. As in no other film this year, Greenwood's score perfectly fits the mood and tone of the film as a whole. It is dark, despairing, foreboding, threatening and mournful. But, the bastards in the academy didn't nominate him. I use the lower case 'a' in academy for that very reason. Jerks.

But, if I have to choose one of the nominees, it is easily Marianelli for Atonement. The touchstone for me in finding a great soundtrack is in its half-life. What I mean is, if I can remember aspects of the music after the film is long over, then the composer has done his job. The brilliance of Marianelli's score is how seamlessly it fits into the world of the film. Incidental sounds from the film, a typewriter, an umbrella being beaten upon a car's hood, flow directly into percussive sounds used in the score. Marianelli's music can build tension and cause you to weep at the stroke of a bow upon a string, and therein lies its magic.

But really, how cool would it have been to see the entire Radiohead gang supporting Jonny Greenwood, all wearing tuxes, and having his chilling score start to play after they called his name...maybe someday.

Re-Tales: You Don't Read?

Many of the Re-Tales stories I intend to tell revolve around the idea of the customer not only being wrong, but being fairly ignorant. It used to be that bookstores and libraries employed those who were the most knowledgeable and passionate about books. Libraries might still be the exception, but with the onset of computers, the cutting of costs and the shrinking of profit margins, bookstores have fairly well dumbed it down.

I was working in one of the many bookstores from my past, one that definitely employed some of the creme de la creme of passionate book people. A dowdy woman came in wearing a large straw hat, oversized sunglasses, too much perfume, and overall coated with attitude. (I should say that this was in an airport bookstore and she was traveling, I believe, to Hawaii. But, who knows.) She asked the young lady I was working with whether we had a copy of "The Bridges of Madison County." There are two things you need to know about before I end this story. For one, this novel, one of the most popular books of 1992, was already somewhat passé by the time this event occurred. The second thing you need to know is that the young lady who was assisting the dowdy woman was a grad student at UCLA. She was incredibly intelligent, well read and outspoken.

OK. So, now that you know those things, here's the rest. The young lady bookseller found the title, placed it in the customer's hand and then asked if there was anything else the woman needed. The woman then proceeded to ask, "What did you think of this book?" As politely as possible, the young lady responded, "I'm sorry, I haven't read that book." The dowdy replied with bile in her voice, "What? You work in a bookstore and you don't read?" The young lady kept her composure, looked down at the woman (the young lady was also intimidatingly tall, like a woman's basketball star) and retorted, "Yes ma'am, I read. I just don't crap like that."

It was priceless, one of those moments you wish you could have been a part of. I was there, but I sure wish I had said it.

Movies: My Top 10 of the Year

There's just about one week to go until the big Oscar broadcast! As such, I have decided to go over the best movies I've seen this year. There are very few years in which I see every film that is nominated for an Academy Award. Actually, there's usually an inverse proportion of how disappointed I am versus how many of the films I've seen. Yes, I've been let down by the Oscars before.

Many fanboys will tell you that the beginning of the end was when Star Wars lost to Annie Hall in 1977. I'm not one of those people. I've never thought Lucas deserved an Oscar. The first time I was ever really invested in the awards was in 1991 when Silence of the Lambs swept most of the major Oscars. Since then, however, I've been consistently disappointed. Aside from a few that I agree with (Schindler's List, The English Patient), I've disagreed with most of the Best Picture recipients. The most egregious transgression was in 1997 when Titanic took home the prize. I try to avoid clichés, but, after seeing that horrible film, I definitely wanted those three torturous hours of my life back. Since then, Gladiator, A Beautiful Mind and Chicago have been films I've really disagreed with.

This year, however, I've seen four of the five nominated films and I would be happy with any of the four winning. I plan to see the fifth, hopefully, this week. But, here are my favorite films of the year, at least the ones I've seen. There are more I need to see, but these were superb:

10. Superbad- One of the funniest films I've seen. Period.
9. Charlie Wilson's War- Aaron Sorkin does it again! Being a film about the arming of the Afghan Mujahideen, many liberals like myself were worried that it would glorify a political mistake, but Sorkin, a liberal himself, covers that nicely by highlighting the idea that Wilson and his CIA partner, Gust Avrakatos, tried to warn Congress that unless Afghanistan were stabilized and given money and support, it could have severe repercussions for the U.S. Hmmmmm....sound familiar?
8. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford- Besides winning the prize for the longest title of the year, James is a fantastic film. It's gloriously shot by Roger Deakins, who has been collaborating with the Coens for years now. Also, Brad Pitt, Casey Affleck and Sam Rockwell give outstanding performances.
7. Once- This is the little film that could. At one time, it was supposed to star Cillian Murphy, but thankfully, the filmmaker thought better of it and placed his soundtrack composer, the Frames' Glen Hansard, in the lead role. It's a brilliantly spare and realistic love story with wonderful music.
6. Juno- Juno and Once tie for the shortest titles, I suppose. Juno is another one of those little films that could. Ellen Page is magnificent and deserves every accolade, but it is the trio of Michael Cera, Jason Bateman and J.K. Simmons who practically steal the show. A few things bother me, however. Why was Rainn Wilson so prominently featured in the trailer when he's only in the film for thirty seconds? And I'm worried that Michael Cera will continue to be typecast as the nervous, bumbling teenager until he doesn't get parts anymore.
5. The Simpsons Movie- Come on. How could you not love this? The skateboarding scene at the opening is worth it alone. And Professor Frink singing, "for the big screen!" And Albert Brooks guiding an idiotic President Schwarzenegger. I could go on...
4. Control- Renowned photographer Anton Corbijn makes his feature film debut with Control, a biopic of Ian Curtis, the frontman for Joy Division who tragically took his own life at the age of 23. Corbijn, who got his break in photography taking pictures of the band, captures all the requisite personalities, historical accuracies (except for intentionally choosing a different song for the band to play on Tony Wilson's music show) and atmospheres (pun intended).
3. Atonement- I wasn't expecting much from this film. I loved Ian McEwan's book and, though I thought it perfect for adaptation, but Joe Wright's Pride & Prejudice disappointed me. Not so with Atonement. There are three things I was most impressed with. 1) The music. Dario Marianelli incorporates sounds from the film into segues that lead into music beautifully. It was magical. 2) The three actresses who play Briony Tallis. They were all simply amazing. 3) What everyone seems to be talking about, the near five minute tracking shot of Dunkirk. Wow.
2. There Will Be Blood- I'm not quite sure what to say about this film. It stays with you for a long time. Daniel Day Lewis, Paul Dano and Paul Thomas Anderson are genius.
1. No Country for Old Men- I probably gave this away with the picture above, but what are you gonna do? This was most definitely the best film all year. I can't believe how many people are saying they didn't like the ending. They've obviously never seen that many Coen Brothers films, or they just didn't get it. It's not about closure of a plot. It's not even about the plot at all. It's not really even about Llewelyn Moss or Anton Chigurh. It's about Sheriff Ed Tom Bell and the changing landscape of crime, law and violence, which is then displayed on screen. It's the Coens' best film yet by far with some of the best performances. I say that knowing that Miller's Crossing is one of my favorite films of all time.

Honorable Mentions: Gone Baby Gone, Heima, Talk to Me, Hot Fuzz

Books: The Brilliance of David Mitchell

David Mitchell is my favorite living author. Okay, maybe he's tied with Haruki Murakami, but he's up there. That's really saying something as I read a lot and have a lot of favorites. Mitchell has written four novels, each one drastically different in tone from the last, and each one not only enjoyable, but absolutely miraculous.

Ghostwritten is an unlikely debut. On the surface, it can be read as a series of short novellas about the changing world, globalism and the times in which we live. But, there's a whole lot more going on. Each story ties in, either directly or tangentially to the next, and on a deeper level, every story is tied in to every other. The stories form an intricate web with links to every character. In this way, the book can be read again and again to pick up some of those missed references. The end of the book, which I won't give away, wraps things up in a way you won't expect. Fans of Calvino, as I wrote about in my last 'Books' post, will love it.

Number9Dream is a book that I asked Mitchell about directly when I was able to see him speak in Seattle a few years ago. It's directly influenced by my other favorite, Murakami, and Mitchell seemed somewhat embarrassed by that fact upon my question. He said, and I'm paraphrasing, that it's somewhat like having a crush on a girl and then years later going back and seeing how everything you wrote was somehow influenced by that crush. Regardless, I wasn't the only one who loved the book, as it was his first book shortlisted for the Booker Prize. It shares many of the same themes with Ghostwritten, but also shares themes with Murakami's novels, such as identity crises, seemingly impossible searches with many roadblocks, and a love story based mostly on pure chance and destiny.

Cloud Atlas is probably my favorite. No, it's definitely my favorite. Mitchell takes the ideas of tangential stories from his first novel, and then brings them to an entirely new level with Cloud Atlas. Mitchell described the book, his second to be shortlisted for the Booker, as a having the narrative act as a bullet going through Russian nesting dolls. Rather than telling complete stories all the way through, as in Ghostwritten, Mitchell tells six stories, but interrupts five halfway through, to continue them later. So, the stories are structured like thus: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Story 1 takes place in 1850 on a ship in the Pacific, story 2 in 1931 in Belgium, story 3 in 1975 in California, story 4 in the early 21st century in the UK, story 5 in the near future in Korea, and story 6, the central and only uninterrupted story, in a post-apocalyptic future in Hawaii. Each story, as in his first novel, connects with the last, and all relate to one another through intricate themes. How this book didn't win the Booker is beyond me.

His most recent book is Black Swan Green, a novel that one critic called England's answer to Catcher in the Rye. Yeah, it's that good. The novel is semi-autobiographical and recalls the life of a 13-year old boy growing up in Worcestershire in the early 80's. As such, there are a lot of colloquialisms and references from that period. Our protagonist is wonderfully flawed, and one of the best sculpted 'bildungsroman' characters of our generation.

I can't wait for 2009 when Mitchell releases his next book, reportedly about Dejima (a man made island off Nagasaki), the Dutch East India company and Shogunate Japan. It is also reportedly so complex and dense, that Mitchell can't decide what to edit and remove.

The best books, in my opinion, are the ones you can read again and again and get the same or more pleasure from in the process. David Mitchell certainly fits that bill.

Music: British Sea Power

To the left, you'll see the cover for the new album by British Sea Power, one of the most criminally underrated bands today. Being a music critic, it's easy for me to see parallels to other acts, and even to explain to people why their music is clever, accessible and brilliant. But, it's harder for me to say why I am so personally invested in their music.

(Small digression that will somehow fit in):
I'd like to live in England for a few years. Not only because it would just be awesome, but also to see what the differences are in the music industry between a singles-oriented business and an album-based business. We all know that downloads are having a huge effect on the industry. Physical album sales are dropping at a tune of 10-20% per year. Well, for the big guys, at least. As most consumers seem to download particular songs as opposed to entire albums, that must be affecting the singles market in England, no?

Growing up, I've always had a fascination with the US and UK albums and singles charts. Until recently, they seemed miles apart. I couldn't understand why all of US (ha! pun...) were listening to one thing, and all of the them another. Now, with the 'interweb' connecting us all so quickly, it seems that the UK charts are laden with American acts. Is that because it's easier to download British acts in the UK, rather than purchase them? Who knows.

Well, it seems that BSP's album, released a month earlier in the UK, hit #10 upon entry and then, befuddlingly, slipped away. Knowing America's penchant for cartoonish style over substance, Do You Like Rock Music? would never even crack the charts. In fact, the store in which I work only received one copy for the shelves as a new release, as opposed to the boxfuls of discs we got for both Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli. (By the way, I think Brightman might be a vampire. She's almost fifty years old and still looks like she's in her late 20's. I think U2 drummer, and also vampire, Larry Mullen, Jr. got to her). But, I digress.

British Sea Power began with a few singles that eventually led to The Decline of British Sea Power. Cheekily, the band prefaced the title with "British Sea Power's Classic," and little did they know how right they were. Songs like "Apologies to Insect Life," "Fear of Drowing," "Carrion" and especially "Remember Me" were and are British indie rock classics. There was an energy to the band that hadn't been seen or heard in decades, thus they garnered many flattering comparisons to Joy Division. Open Season is the follow-up that arrived two years later, again giving us more than its fair share of great songs, including "It Ended on an Oily Stage," "Please Stand Up" and "Oh Larsen B." The magnificent songwriting, lyrical history and energy were still there, but it seemed a bit more refined, the studio album equivalent of leaving the garage for actual venues.

Do You Like Rock Music?, which I reviewed for Treblezine (here), finds BSP three years later, and delivering what is surely their best album to date. I won't go into the music as my review will cover that, but I will comment on overall critical response. For the most part, reviews have been incredibly positive. For a while, whether in the US or UK, it was hard to find a negative review. Well, leave that job to the snobs at Pitchfork and Popmatters, who completely missed the target on what is easily one of the best albums of the year so far. For some reason, there's been a backlash on having an 'arena' sound, unless of course you're Canadian and wear suspenders, I suppose. Well, there's a reason that Arcade Fire and U2 are as good as they are, and it's not because their music is watered down. Give BSP's new one a listen and I think you'll agree.

Re-Tales: Noah, Your Pictures Are Ready

Not all of my bookstore tales mock the religious, but sometimes those turn out to be the funniest. My last "Re-Tales" post is hard to top, but this one comes close.

The holidays are always stressful in a bookstore. Not only do you have to perform all the same tasks that were required throughout the year, but you also have to help thousands upon thousands of people, most of whom only set foot in a bookstore once a year. These are the people who generally ask the oddball, nutbar questions. I was manning the information desk during the holidays when I was approached by a middle-aged woman. She informed me that she was looking for a book on Noah's Ark. I immediately told her that we had a number of children's books on Noah's Ark and she just as quickly rejected the idea. "I don't want a book on Noah's Ark for kids." Knowing that the only books I had seen in the store on the subject were kids books I asked, "Okay, what kind of book did you have in mind?" "I'm looking for a coffee table photography book on Noah's Ark," she replied. I stood agape. "Seriously?" I asked. She seemed offended. I debated letting her know that I think Noah forgot his Polaroid or Digital Camera that day. I think one of the giraffes might have eaten it.

To this day, I don't know what scares me more, the fact that this one woman seemed to think there were somehow photographs of this allegorical story, or that two-thirds of Americans believe the Noah's Ark story to be true, and that every year people try to form expeditions to look for artifacts on Mt. Ararat. Later, another bookselling friend told me that she had once been asked for a photography book on angels. Sometimes I feel like telling the customers that they should look next to the photography books of the Easter Bunny, Leprechauns and Unicorns.

Raucous at the Caucus, Part Deux

There were two nearly simultaneous experiences at the caucus that I forgot to mention. Both experiences seemed perfect analogies for this political season, so I thought I'd share them. At the head of the line, when you are finally at a point to be directed to your district location, there are a few volunteers. As my apartment building was on the borderline of two separate districts, there was some initial confusion as to where I should be. The volunteer, a man in his forties, held a crudely divided and hard to read map of the local precinct areas in his hand. The map was no help. The volunteer was about to disappear to get some extra help when an older gentleman, probably in his late sixties, early seventies, asked loudly, "Where's the Republican Caucus?" The volunteer was flummoxed. "I have no idea, sir," he responded. He offered to get someone in a more senior position to give him directions and walked away. Meanwhile, a young man who I can only guess was the volunteer's son, took his place. The boy was no more than twelve years old, wearing an Obama t-shirt.

At first glance, this doesn't seem like much. But to me, the older gentleman seemed a perfect analogy for the Republican party. He was confused, disoriented, brash, uninformed and invaded the wrong place. And by the time he actually did get an answer as to where he was supposed to be, it was too late. Isn't that just like a Republican, I thought, lost and in trouble and needing a bunch of Democrats to bail him out.

The boy, on the other hand, was directing voters more quickly and efficiently than his father. He didn't need a map or a guide. "Do you know your precinct?" he asked every voter as they reached the top of the stairs. If they did, he gave them easy to follow directions. If they did not, he asked them where they lived and then told them their precinct number, without the use of a map, and then guided them. Again, he was no more than twelve years old. I know that Obama was energizing the youth vote, but this was more than I expected. To me, this boy was an analogy for the 'new' Democrats. He was smart, informed, decisive, unafraid, and knew exactly what he was supposed to be doing, when, and in the best interests of the people in front of him. On top of all that, he listened and stepped in when needed. He took over for his father, who was being helpful in his own way, and this boy knew that he needed to step in for the betterment of the party and his community. The line moved faster and more efficiently under his direction. I was incredibly impressed. The boy was a born leader. If there are more young people out there like this boy, I feel better about the future of this country.

Raucous at the Caucus

This is a picture from my corner vantage point of my Eastlake precint's Presidential Caucus. This is the first caucus I've ever attended and it was an experience not to be forgotten.

I tried to gather information on the caucus before I arrived, only to find very spotty information. There was, however, a short video about the process showing some kindly citizens, maybe ten total, sitting in a library and having a nice informal chat.

When I arrived at the caucus location, there was a lineup of about 150 people. Of course, those were just the people outside the building waiting to get in. Inside, you could have easily multiplied that number by five. At least. The room pictured above is where I was guided. This picture was taken a few minutes before three entire precincts were moved out of the room because there just wasn't enough space for this kind of turnout!

Just before we were ushered outside in to the forty degree weather, we all signed in and chose a preferred candidate. A tally was taken and read to the group. In my precinct of 58 people, the original tally turned out to be 48 for Barack Obama, 7 for Hillary Clinton, and 3 undecideds. They then allowed time for two short speeches, one from each side of the candidates, in an attempt to sway not only the undecideds, but also anybody committed who wanted to change their opinion. After the speeches, which were disjointed and haphazard, but personal and from the heart, the three undecideds changed their preference and the final tally was taken. It ended up to be 49 for Obama and 9 for Clinton. This translated into 4 delegates for Obama and one for Clinton. Then, quite a bit of time was taken for choosing members of our precinct to become the delegates that would then go on to the next level.

All in all, the whole thing was an hour and a half's worth of time in which about five minutes of action took place. In that way, I think that the caucus was a perfect example of the democratic process. It was disorganized and messy, but the voices of the people were heard. How this information gets passed up and turned into results is still unclear to me, but it seems primitive and with huge possibilities of miscalculation. However, I'd prefer this method than the alternative, easily manipulated voting machines. What the caucus does is show people's true opinions in front of their neighbors who also act as witnesses to the process.

Oddly, Washington also has a primary scheduled for February 19th, which has been declared 'meaningless' (at least as far as the Presidential delegation assignment goes) as all delegates are assigned through the caucus. I don't know how the results from the other precincts went, but I know that the Eastlake neighborhoods were heavily favoring Obama. Because of what I saw, I would imagine that Obama should easily take the majority of delegates in Washington state. He spoke at Key Arena and they had to turn people away. This venue holds approximately 17,000 people, and over 3000 people had to wait outside. Luckily, Obama actually went to them, giving them a second impassioned speech. This is opposed to the 5000 people who saw Hillary speak earlier in the week.

As I stated earlier, this was my first caucus, and although it had its faults, it was an incredible experience, and a humbling display of patriotism, civic duty and responsibility. Walking to the school in which the caucus took place, it looked as if the entire neighborhood had emptied out, all trickling their way to demonstrate their determination to make this country, their community, and their government a better place and entity, and it was an awe-inspiring site to behold. I've never seen this many people at a polling place (granted, that is open all day) and I think that has a lot to do with both a disgust with the current administration and a belief that one of the two leading Democratic candidates could make a change.