Jar-Jar: The Final Word

In one of the trailers for Spaced, the sitcom from the Shaun of the Dead guys, a deep voice intones, "No one can explain what Spaced is. You must watch it for yourself." After viewing the entire series over the last two nights, I have to agree, and won't begin to try.

But, I will describe this one scene because, to me, it kinda says it all.

Tim is at work, a comic shop called Fantasy Bazaar. "You are so blind!" he yells at an unseen customer. "You so do not understand! You weren't there at the beginning. You don't know how good it was, how important. This is it for you -- this jumped-up firework display of a toy advert! People like you make me sick! What's wrong with you?"

At which point we see he's talking to a kid who can't be more than six.

"Now take your pocket money and get out!"

The kid runs crying from the store. "What a prick," Tim observes, at which point the store manager, the improbably named Bilbo (played by Bill Bailey), calls him into the office.

"The Phantom Menace was eighteen months ago, Tim!"

"I know, Bilbo, but it still hurts! Y'know, that kid wanted a Jar-Jar doll."

"Kids like Jar-Jar!"

Tim, incredulous, cries out, "Why?"

"What about the Ewoks?" Bilbo counters. "They were rubbish! You don't complain about them."

"Yeah, but Jar-Jar Binks makes the Ewoks look like fucking Shaft!"

Pure poetry. Spaced is my new favorite show.

Zombies and H2G2

In gearing up for Land of the Dead -- which opened in America last weekend, but which we have to wait until August 4 to see -- we've been having a Zombie marathon these last few days.

The original Dawn, Return of the Living Dead, Night of the Creeps, City of the Living Dead (which we're still not entirely convinced is actually a Zombie movie) and, of course, Shaun. Have to slow it down. I fear we're going to run out before August. And odds are, Land won't play around here at all, so there's probably a trip to Melbourne in my future. (I dare say a solo trip -- Nikki's just not into travelling that distance to see a movie.)

I'm a little surprised how luke-warm the reviews are, really. I read the script and thought it rocked, but George isn't the best director in the world -- much like the other George, he's better known for what he's created, than any degree of artistic ability -- so it's possible that the script and the film go north and south.

Apart from Zombie flicks, we haven't watched a lot of movies lately. I'm reading quite a bit. A book called Don't Panic by Neil Gaiman, which -- surprise -- is about Douglas Adams and the Guide. More about the Guide, really, and its various incarnations, and not so much a bio of Adams. It's interesting, but really vague, and assumes the reader is fanatical about the Guide series, making only passing references to specific passages in the books, and Gaiman seems to go out of his way to make the reader feel like he's out of the loop. It's like reading footnotes.

Anyway, I have two actual biographies here on Adams, which I'll be picking up soon. Have some other library books to get through first, including a few from my new pal Shane Maloney.

End of an Era

So, Revenge of the Sith.

My prediction about Palpatine being a clone of Darth Sidious was wrong, but we knew that going in. Still, as good as the movie was (and it was good, but it would have taken a director of Ed Woodian proportions to fuck this one up), I can't help feeling it would have been just that little bit better if he had been a clone. Instead, we were treated to poor Ian McDiarmid with a big ol' prosthetic forehead, looking like William Hurt at the end of Altered States, or some dude out of a They Might Be Giants song.

The nature of the movie left little room for surprises, so it was all pretty much in the telling, and it wasn't as bad as we might have feared. Of course when you get Tom Stoppard to brush up your dialogue for you, you're not going far wrong. Perhaps the biggest surprise of the evening was that Nikki liked the movie! As she's not a Star Wars fan, this was quite a shock to me. But she felt that the movie worked as a stand-alone story, without having to rely on the other movies before or after it. It told a story about a guy, his jealousy and paranoia, and the repurcussions of those feelings. So points to Lucas for converting her.

But if someone can please explain to me where Natalie Portman was carrying these twins, I'd be very appreciative. She looked like she was about five months pregnant through the whole movie -- and then to give birth to twins of normal size...

Well, I don't want to dwell on the movies flaws, because there really were so few. It was good to see Chewie and Darth Vader. Captain Antilles even made an appearance toward the end, as did a good mock-up of Grand Moff Tarkin. I'll just say that it was the best of the three recent entries, and it actually gives the best of the original trilogy (Empire, incase you're wondering) a run for its money.

So it's over now. We can get on with our lives. But my inner six-year-old can't help but feel a little sad...

Gus Van Sant has it out for me

So we watched Gerry tonight. I fucking hate Gus Van Sant, but after this one I'm convinced that he hates me, too.

David Lynch got into filmmaking because, he says, he wanted to see his paintings move. Gerry was like watching a painting that doesn't move. For an hour and thirty-eight minutes. Two guys lost in a desert; sure it looked nice, but I wanted a little more action. Not Joel Silver type action, necessarily, but something... Anything! Seriously, watching a close-up of Damon and Affleck 2: Electric Boogaloo walking for five minutes isn't my idea of "captivating cinema".

This is meant to be an "experimental film". Whatever that means. Not like I haven't seen a movie that uses tracking shots before. Or shots that go on for ages. (One wonders if Van Sant -- Hitchcock fan that he purports to be -- has ever seen Rope.) Where's the experimental part in all this? Nikki suggested that it might be to see how much the audience could take. I have to concur.

In the end, Damon kills Affleck and is rescued moments later by a family inexplicably driving through the desert. Supposed to be tragic, I guess. Would have been better to have them both die and then be discovered by a family inexplicably driving through the desert. I coulda got behind that.

"We'll fix it in post."

Taking into account my recent filmmaking woes, I've decided to list my Top Ten Movies About Making Movies. Some are bios and some are more about screenwriting than moviemaking, but it's six-of-one, innit?

1. Barton Fink
2. Ed Wood
3. Living in Oblivion
4. Shadow of the Vampire
5. State and Main
6. Adaptation
7. The Player
8. Get Shorty
9. ...And God Spoke
10. The Big Picture

Bullets Over Broadway gets honorable mention here as well, only because it's not about movies -- otherwise it'd round out the top three.

H2G2

In the introduction to the More Than Complete Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams writes of the original radio program: "Bats heard it. The odd dog barked."

The long-awaited movie version seems to be met with the same huge flourish of no fanfare at all. Apart from Nik and myself, there were only two other people in the theatre tonight. Granted, it was the last show of the evening, but it was only 9:15 ferchrissakes! On opening night, the numbers should have at least been in the high-tens, if not the low-hundreds.

The movie was... okay. I wish I could be more excited about it, but it rates only a 3 out of 4 for me. Changes were made, to be sure, but it wasn't the things that they added that I found disturbing, but the things that were missing. The Babel Fish was there, as was the explanation as to his curious biology -- but gone was the fact that the existence of the Babel Fish proved beyond a doubt the non-existence of God. The Guide itself was there, with its helpful entries on Deep Thought the Supercomputer and Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters, as well as a few new tidbits, but there was no entry for towels, dispite the fact that everyone kept asking Arthur if he had his. To the casual viewer, I can only imagine this was confusing -- although much use was made of said towels, without the entry in the Guide, and the accompanying explanation of the towel's main use as a status symbol ("That frood really knows where his towel is at."), it seemed to matter very little.

Casting-wise, I have to say that everyone was excellent -- Bill Nighy is fast becoming one of my favorite actors. Zooey brought something to Trillian that I'd never seen in the book or TV show, Mos Def was surprisingly good as Ford -- though, again, different. The only let-down was, sad to say, Martin Freeman as Arthur. I've come to the conclusion that he simply wasn't playing Arthur Dent. Much as I love Freeman's "Tim" from The Office, his character in this movie wasn't very far removed from that one, and it was just the wrong way to go.

In all, apart from a few nit-picky problems with story editing (Arthur tells Ford the Tricia McMillan/Zaphod story -- in flashback, no less -- before we meet them in the movie, thereby ruining the surprise when Arthur says, upon being introduced by Ford to Zaphod, "Yes, we've met!") we enjoyed ourselves, though it was hard to tell what the rest of the audience thought, as Nikki and I were in the front row, and the other two guys were in the back. Were they fans, or just there to see what it was all about? We'll never know. Though I can say without a doubt that I was the only one there this evening carrying a towel.

"Don't make contact with their teeth."

We just watched Children of the Living Dead. I'd been warned about this one: The words "Festival of Crap" were used. Still, I needed to see it.

About five minutes into it, I turned to Nikki and suggested we list every stupid thing that happens in the movie -- and even at the five-minute mark, the list was impressive. We ended up with 55, but that's only because we got tired of writing after a while. I wanted to list them here, but they wouldn't make sense to you, out of context and all, and... honestly, I just can't be bothered. I want to put this one as far behind me as possible.

Besides, Dead Kev over at allthingszombie.com wrote a review, and he nailed it. Here's an excerpt:

"In the diner scene where Mathew is talking to his onscreen love interest Laurie (Jamie McCoy), she pours him a cup of coffee, much like any good waitress would do. She sets up some silverware, and then proceeds to take his cup away and pour a new one for him. Now he’s yet to even take a sip and he’s on his second cup. She then wipes up some spillage (how did it spill? he still hasn’t had a drink yet) and then pours some more coffee. Then if you’re really paying attention on the next cut, you can see her still pouring coffee at the bottom corner of the frame. Then he leaves without paying a bill of any kind, and without ever having any of the multiple cups of coffee he was poured.

That's a microcosm of the whole film."

Nikki asked me to stab her in the face with a spoon to end her torment. But I fell back on the "for better or worse" deal, and we made it through together. But I'll have to wash with steel wool for a month to get the scum from this one off me.

"Always two there are... Master and Apprentice..."

With only 54 days until the release of Episode III, I want to go on record with this: Darth Sidious, the mysterious robed figure from the Prequel Trilogy, is not Chancellor Palpatine.

If I'm wrong about this, I'm going to delete this post in 55 days, but I'm pretty sure I know what Lucas is up to with this guy.

Check it out: Clones, right? Apart from a few references to the legendary Clone Wars, they didn't play a huge part in the Original Trilogy. But the Prequel Trilogy is all about the Clones. And I'm not just talking about the Clone Army in Episodes II and III -- check out Episode I again and look closely at Amidala's handmaidens: They're all played by Natalie Portman. In Episode II, Lucas would have us believe that these "decoys" are just girls who happen to look a lot like her, but it's pretty damned clear that that ain't the way it was headed. This clone technology that Obi-Wan stumbles upon in Episode II is well-known to the people of Theed -- at least in Episode I.

"So what does all this have to do with Sidious and Palpatine?"

Are you thick?

Palpatine is a clone of Sidious.

Follow me: Lucas has this thing about repetition. He's said that he approaches these films -- "for better or for worse" -- like a symphony.

"I have a lot of themes that I keep repeating over and over again through the whole thing. Different notes and different instrumentation, but when you see all six movies together you'll see that there's a lot of recurring notes being played."

Apart from the obligatory "I've got a bad feeling about this" line, things like Obi-Wan "repeating" in Episode II Han Solo's insane flight through an asteroid field from The Empire Strikes Back, or Yoda's "my own council will I keep" line from Empire recurring again in Episode I are are plain silly. Because they're just scenes or lines or characters we've seen before, and the repetition smacks more of a desperate attempt to remind us of the Original Trilogy than it does a symphonic resonance. I mean, what's the point of Anakin having created C-3PO unless the droid eventually has a hands-on role in bringing down Darth Vader? Since he doesn't, the answer is None. So why do it? Oh, right: Desperate attempt. Original Trilogy. Got it.

But looking at it thematically, with the recurrance of the Apprentice Destroying the Master, and it's another thing entirely. It's almost poetic. Only in reverse.

In Empire, Vader asked Luke to help him destroy the Emperor so that they could rule the galaxy as father and son. In Return of the Jedi, when Luke was finally brought before the Emperor, it almost happened. This is going to be the "note" that plays in Episode III: Darth Sidious is going to be revealed as a separate entity from Chancellor Palpatine, and their master/apprentice relationship (another theme in the series) will become clear. Palpatine is going to turn Anakin to the Dark Side, and together they will destroy Darth Sidious -- as Anakin/Vader will later fail to do in Jedi.

At least that's how I'd do it.

Let's wait and see...

At long last...

I haven't posted since Hunter Thompson shot himself.

It has less to do with that event, actually, than the same old "nothing to report" excuse.

In that time, though, I've managed to finish the first draft of a pilot for an animated sit-com -- which I've been working on for nearly two years -- called CruciFiction. It's still rough, and I've already gone back and started touching it up, but the couple people I've sent it to have given me great feedback, so I'm feeling good about it.

Written two DVD reviews in the last couple weeks -- one for Shaun of the Dead, and the other for Road Games. Both were accepted nearly as-written, with very little in the way of revision, which pissed me off just a little. I mean, I don't generally hand in second-drafts, you know? I take such pains when I'm writing to say exactly what I mean to say, and to make sure that my point is crystal clear that my first draft is pretty much the final draft. But after the nightmare I went through with my 28 Days Later review, rewrite after rewrite, taking onboard every suggestion my editor -- who had yet to actually see the movie -- made, I decided to stop putting my heart and soul into these reviews, and just hand in mediocre work.

So I do, and I get nothing in the way of notes.

What the hell is that about?

I'm not complaining; I mean, it's nice to be published at all, but I wish it was work I'm actually proud of, rather than stuff that -- I feel, anyway -- is only half-baked. Have to review Cronenberg's Spider this week. That's not going to be easy because it's such an intricate film. I'll have to put some work into that one and just hope and pray the edits are few.

I've finally started reading John Connolly's book of short stories, "Nocturnes", which was published late last year. Good stuff. Connolly has yet to disappoint me, though. He's fused my two favorite genres, Horror and Noir, so where can you go wrong? Also picked up some Peter Temple books -- an Aussie crime author I just discovered. The more of these guys I read, maybe it'll get me into 'the zone' and I'll be able to finish writing Max Love -- that's the dream, anyway.

Hunter S. Thompson

I'm speechless. My friend Jim had this to say:

It should have read like this:
AP‹Noted author, and Doctor of Journalism, Hunter S. Thompson, was cut down in his prime in a suspected mob assassination this evening, and the world mourns his loss. Thompson's literary accomplishments are unquestionable. Despite his vigilant attention to the security of his compound in Aspen, Colorado, Thompson was apparently attacked by a small group of elite assassins who apparently were recruited for the job through ads in SOLDIER OF FORTUNE magazine and other classified outlets. Early information indicates that Donald Rumsfeld made the final call, saying, "This bastard has been mouthing off for too long. Let's put a sock in his mouth. Permanently!"

But that's not what happened.

Is it?

Jeez, pal, isn't there something else you could've done?

What the fuck were you thinking?

Well, I know you'll never be able to answer that one, or any other questions, because you permanently concluded all contact with the rest of us, didn't you? Thanks. That's swell. Just when we were getting something going again. So out of the blue, you decide to remove yourself from everything permanently. With no warning or notice! Jeez!

I didn't see this one coming at all. You were yourself the last time we talked. What happened?

We'll all regret that you decided to leave the party permanently, and right now I've got to tell you that I'm pissed off that you did. Selfishly, of course. No more eloquently crazed rants in Rolling Stone, no more frantic e-mails about the Middle East, football, or nuclear doom.

I'll say goodbye to you before long, but right now I'm to angry to be empathetic. Meanwhile, I'll say this: Farewell my friend. I'm sorry to see you go away so soon.

Splunge.
Jim