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.