So I was hanging out with a U.S. Senator today and... OK, we weren't "hanging out" exactly, but I was in the room with him. U.S. Sen. Gordon Smith, one of Oregon's two reps in Washington, stopped by the paper today while on a tour of Oregon's hinterlands, and I sat in with the rest of our 'editorial board' (includes me and other editors and the publisher) for an hour or so. We talked about Iraq, forestry, gay marriage, et cetera. For a more moderate Republican (and the chair of Bush's Oregon campaign), Smith's a decent fellow, which I imagine you have to be to make it in his line of work. Imposing chin, hair immaculate, and the sensation that whatever you're saying to him is REALLY IMPORTANT. Even though I'm politically opposed to most of his views he has the knack of making you halfway support him when he's talking. Like other politicos I've met, it's their gift.
Anyways, when he started talking about Kerry's socialist agenda and I tuned out a little, I wondered what it is about the word "Senator" before one's name that makes such an impression. You put "congressman" or "mayor" before someone's handle and it sounds OK, true, but "Senator" -- well, that shines up any name. "Senator Glittlespitt" doesn't even half sound bad. So it came to me that even though I don't have perfect hair and my chin is settling into its own remains that I should take the initiative now. No, I'm not running for Congress. But I think I might legally change my first name to "Senator." "Senator Dirga" -- hell, that's got a ring to it. At last, I am respectable.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
This and that...
Every week I change the little "kicker" at the top up there below the "Spatula Forum" title. I use a different song lyric each week depending on what I'm listening to and throw my name in there (modeled after what one of my favorite newspaper columnists, the San Francisco Chronicle's Jon Carroll, does) somehow. Last week's was from Wilco's "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot," "Phone my family, tell them I'm lost on the sidewalk." The week before that was a lyric by The Pixies. Can anyone guess this week's? This has been your pointless musical nerd digression of the day.
Just over 24 hours until I see "Spider-Man 2." Picked up my ticket last night for opening day. My spider-sense is tingling in anticipation of my most-awaited action movie of the year.
Still reeling over "Fahrenheit 9/11." Particularly notable to me, politics aside, is how well the movie did opening weekend. It made $24 million dollars, not only exceeding the ENTIRE box office take of Michael Moore's last movie "Bowling For Columbine," but it also instantly became the highest-grossing documentary of all time (excepting IMAX movies and special releases). What's interesting is if you look at the "Top 10" documentaries of all time according to box office mojo, you'll find that EIGHT of the top 10 money-makers were released just in the past two years. That's impressive. I loves a good documentary, and many on that list, such as "Touching The Void," "Winged Migration" and "Spellbound" are among the best movies I've seen lately, period. It's fantastic to see a new interest in this very valid, very pertinent theatrical form. Even in a world where "White Chicks" can make $20 million dollars, it gives me hope.
Every week I change the little "kicker" at the top up there below the "Spatula Forum" title. I use a different song lyric each week depending on what I'm listening to and throw my name in there (modeled after what one of my favorite newspaper columnists, the San Francisco Chronicle's Jon Carroll, does) somehow. Last week's was from Wilco's "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot," "Phone my family, tell them I'm lost on the sidewalk." The week before that was a lyric by The Pixies. Can anyone guess this week's? This has been your pointless musical nerd digression of the day.
Just over 24 hours until I see "Spider-Man 2." Picked up my ticket last night for opening day. My spider-sense is tingling in anticipation of my most-awaited action movie of the year.
Still reeling over "Fahrenheit 9/11." Particularly notable to me, politics aside, is how well the movie did opening weekend. It made $24 million dollars, not only exceeding the ENTIRE box office take of Michael Moore's last movie "Bowling For Columbine," but it also instantly became the highest-grossing documentary of all time (excepting IMAX movies and special releases). What's interesting is if you look at the "Top 10" documentaries of all time according to box office mojo, you'll find that EIGHT of the top 10 money-makers were released just in the past two years. That's impressive. I loves a good documentary, and many on that list, such as "Touching The Void," "Winged Migration" and "Spellbound" are among the best movies I've seen lately, period. It's fantastic to see a new interest in this very valid, very pertinent theatrical form. Even in a world where "White Chicks" can make $20 million dollars, it gives me hope.
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Hmm. Did Bush transfer the sovereignty of Iraq two days early because of Michael Moore? Because frankly, at this point, I wouldn't put anything past him.
Yep, I saw 'Fahrenheit 9/11' last night, along with several other liberal media buddies from the newspaper. I'm still digesting it, but it's by far Moore's best movie, scathingly partisan, humorous and devastatingly powerful all at the same time.
Moore restrains himself here, carefully building a case against George W. Bush brick by brick and never relenting. From the 2000 "election" to the Bush family's ties with the Saudis to the failed war in Afghanistan to the erosion of our civil liberties post-9/11 to the human effect of the Iraqi war, it's all here. It's a movie everyone should see if only to argue over. It's a powerfully controlled movie, lacking the wandering focus that marred "Bowling For Columbine" a bit for me. And only Michael Moore can have you laughing one moment by showing Bush and Saudi leaders commingling to the tune of "Shiny Happy People" and then tear your heart out by showing you wounded Iraqi children.
What's disturbing to me is that the movie's case isn't that Bush and co. are the heart of all evil -- even if sometimes it seems that way -- but instead, that they're motivated by common, pathetic greed. The amount of financial ties and money matters this movie links to the Bush family is staggering. And I thought about that at one point when Moore takes us right here to my state of Oregon, where Oregon State Police have suffered such severe cutbacks that around a dozen troopers are all that's left to patrol the highways of an entire STATE of 3.5 million people. Funny how little of that Halliburton contract money finds its ways to the little guy.
And that's Moore's cause as always, the "little guy," and while his movie is definitely anti-Iraq war, it's pro-troops and he's devastatingly adept at getting the undiluted, worried voices of the 19- and 20-year-old kids we have fighting our war for us over there. He shows this sadly oblivious kids talking about war like it's a video game, and then shows us a bunch of greedheads at a conference talking about the "profit" Iraq can make for businesses. His interview with a widowed mother is hard to watch, but you can't tear your eyes away. She's one of hundreds now.
Of course, this movie isn't like to change too many people's minds, because we're stubborn as a nation. But it's a welcome tonic to see Moore's movie do so well, and be reminded that FOX news, Rush, Ann Coulter et al don't have the market on partisan chest-thumping. I'm a journalist so I'm supposed to be "objective" and I strive to be when I'm on the clock, but frankly I'm counting the days 'til November 2 and this dangerous, corrupt administration is hopefully removed.
It's real curious that Bush decided to transfer power today -- two days early -- right after it's announced that 'Fahrenheit 9/11' which basically rips him a new one, was the number one movie in America for the weekend, making $20 million and shattering all records for documentary, Michael Moore movies, political power and so forth. I'm not a conspiracy theorist by nature, but gee, this one has me wondering.
Yep, I saw 'Fahrenheit 9/11' last night, along with several other liberal media buddies from the newspaper. I'm still digesting it, but it's by far Moore's best movie, scathingly partisan, humorous and devastatingly powerful all at the same time.
Moore restrains himself here, carefully building a case against George W. Bush brick by brick and never relenting. From the 2000 "election" to the Bush family's ties with the Saudis to the failed war in Afghanistan to the erosion of our civil liberties post-9/11 to the human effect of the Iraqi war, it's all here. It's a movie everyone should see if only to argue over. It's a powerfully controlled movie, lacking the wandering focus that marred "Bowling For Columbine" a bit for me. And only Michael Moore can have you laughing one moment by showing Bush and Saudi leaders commingling to the tune of "Shiny Happy People" and then tear your heart out by showing you wounded Iraqi children.
What's disturbing to me is that the movie's case isn't that Bush and co. are the heart of all evil -- even if sometimes it seems that way -- but instead, that they're motivated by common, pathetic greed. The amount of financial ties and money matters this movie links to the Bush family is staggering. And I thought about that at one point when Moore takes us right here to my state of Oregon, where Oregon State Police have suffered such severe cutbacks that around a dozen troopers are all that's left to patrol the highways of an entire STATE of 3.5 million people. Funny how little of that Halliburton contract money finds its ways to the little guy.
And that's Moore's cause as always, the "little guy," and while his movie is definitely anti-Iraq war, it's pro-troops and he's devastatingly adept at getting the undiluted, worried voices of the 19- and 20-year-old kids we have fighting our war for us over there. He shows this sadly oblivious kids talking about war like it's a video game, and then shows us a bunch of greedheads at a conference talking about the "profit" Iraq can make for businesses. His interview with a widowed mother is hard to watch, but you can't tear your eyes away. She's one of hundreds now.
Of course, this movie isn't like to change too many people's minds, because we're stubborn as a nation. But it's a welcome tonic to see Moore's movie do so well, and be reminded that FOX news, Rush, Ann Coulter et al don't have the market on partisan chest-thumping. I'm a journalist so I'm supposed to be "objective" and I strive to be when I'm on the clock, but frankly I'm counting the days 'til November 2 and this dangerous, corrupt administration is hopefully removed.
It's real curious that Bush decided to transfer power today -- two days early -- right after it's announced that 'Fahrenheit 9/11' which basically rips him a new one, was the number one movie in America for the weekend, making $20 million and shattering all records for documentary, Michael Moore movies, political power and so forth. I'm not a conspiracy theorist by nature, but gee, this one has me wondering.
Sunday, June 27, 2004
I'm a pop culture nut. So I love to read other people's pop culture musings. A great little book I just finished is Chuck Klosterman's "Sex, Drugs, And Cocoa Puffs." Besides the best title in the history of the cosmos, it's just a fun, frothy and surprisingly insightful little run through the pop culture blender, collecting articles and essays Klosterman's written for publications such as SPIN and ESQUIRE.
Like Dave Eggers or Nick Hornby, Klosterman does a fine job taking the epherma of today's world from Tellytubbies to Pamela Anderson and rambling about them for a few thousand words. Often, books of this nature can be smug and get dated really fast, but Klosterman might hold up a little better than that. Sure, he's snarky as hell, but funny and rarely vicious in his essays, and I particularly like his tactic of taking a reference-filled, name-dropping pop culture rant and giving it a meaningful spin at the end. Some fun words of wisdom from this tome:
* "For upwardly mobile women in their twenties and thirties, John Cusack is the neo-Elvis," on how movies like "Say Anything" make romantic love seem unattainable in real life.
* "The Sims forces you think about how even free people are eternally enslaved by the processes of living," on his addiction to "The Sims" video game.
* A hilarious defense of Billy Joel, a guilty pleasure of mine: "Billy Joel ... is not cool in the kitschy, campy, "he's so uncool he's cool" sense ... He has no intrinsic coolness, and he has no extrinsic coolness. If cool was a color, it would be black -- and Billy Joel would be sort of burnt orange."
* On the suffering nature of cereal cartoon mascots: "Random children endlessly taunt Sonny the Cuckoo Bird with heaping bowls of Cocoa Puffs, almost like street junkies waving heroin needles in the face of William S. Burroughs."
* And from the required "I'm a part of the 'Star Wars' generation" essay, a witty dissection of "Empire Strikes Back": "In a roundabout way, Boba Fett created Pearl Jam."
Now, none of this is terribly deep, but it's funny and Klosterman knows it won't change the world. Other essays touch on a Guns 'n' Roses tribute band, riffs on "Saved By The Bell" and "The Real World," or serial-killer celebrity. Only a few essays about sports kind of missed the mark for me. I don't know if 10 years from now this book will seem as dated as "Generation X" to me, but right now, it's a spunky tonic. The thing is, we're surrounded by pop culture these days, from "American Idol" to "Fahrenheit 9/11," and reality and pop are pretty much indistinguishable. Even our elections become pop events. It still all matters, though, even if we're not exactly sure why or how. "Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs" is billed in its subhead as "A Low Culture Manifesto." Who says Billy Joel doesn't deserve the same serious analysis as Bob Dylan, anyway? This book's worth checking out, now in paperback.
Like Dave Eggers or Nick Hornby, Klosterman does a fine job taking the epherma of today's world from Tellytubbies to Pamela Anderson and rambling about them for a few thousand words. Often, books of this nature can be smug and get dated really fast, but Klosterman might hold up a little better than that. Sure, he's snarky as hell, but funny and rarely vicious in his essays, and I particularly like his tactic of taking a reference-filled, name-dropping pop culture rant and giving it a meaningful spin at the end. Some fun words of wisdom from this tome:
* "For upwardly mobile women in their twenties and thirties, John Cusack is the neo-Elvis," on how movies like "Say Anything" make romantic love seem unattainable in real life.
* "The Sims forces you think about how even free people are eternally enslaved by the processes of living," on his addiction to "The Sims" video game.
* A hilarious defense of Billy Joel, a guilty pleasure of mine: "Billy Joel ... is not cool in the kitschy, campy, "he's so uncool he's cool" sense ... He has no intrinsic coolness, and he has no extrinsic coolness. If cool was a color, it would be black -- and Billy Joel would be sort of burnt orange."
* On the suffering nature of cereal cartoon mascots: "Random children endlessly taunt Sonny the Cuckoo Bird with heaping bowls of Cocoa Puffs, almost like street junkies waving heroin needles in the face of William S. Burroughs."
* And from the required "I'm a part of the 'Star Wars' generation" essay, a witty dissection of "Empire Strikes Back": "In a roundabout way, Boba Fett created Pearl Jam."
Now, none of this is terribly deep, but it's funny and Klosterman knows it won't change the world. Other essays touch on a Guns 'n' Roses tribute band, riffs on "Saved By The Bell" and "The Real World," or serial-killer celebrity. Only a few essays about sports kind of missed the mark for me. I don't know if 10 years from now this book will seem as dated as "Generation X" to me, but right now, it's a spunky tonic. The thing is, we're surrounded by pop culture these days, from "American Idol" to "Fahrenheit 9/11," and reality and pop are pretty much indistinguishable. Even our elections become pop events. It still all matters, though, even if we're not exactly sure why or how. "Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs" is billed in its subhead as "A Low Culture Manifesto." Who says Billy Joel doesn't deserve the same serious analysis as Bob Dylan, anyway? This book's worth checking out, now in paperback.
Saturday, June 26, 2004
Let's do the quick hits thing today, 'cause it's Friday and my stomach hurts and I want to go to eat BBQ for lunch.
ITEM! Great coverage by our news team on the wounding of three local soldiers in Iraq Wednesday. Like the death of Reagan, it's one of those moments when the newsroom pops into Mach 3 and shows what it can do. Fortunately it looks like the three guys will be OK, although the extent of their injuries isn't certain.
ITEM! So Vice President Dick Cheney told a senator to "fuck yourself" on the floor of the Senate yesterday. But as usual the right-wing apologists, who would make excuses for the Bushs if the president was found sodomizing a dead whale in the Rose Garden, will find a way to make this Kerry's fault somehow. You know, everyone uses the "F" word on occasion. It's human nature. That I have no problem with. It's the hypocrisy of the self-proclaimed moralists in the White House that bugs me. Let's use the wayback machine to go back in time a bit: (from The Washington Post) In December, Democratic presidential candidate John F. Kerry was quoted using the same word in describing Bush's Iraq policy as botched. The president's chief of staff reacted with indignation. "That's beneath John Kerry," Chief of Staff Andrew H. Card Jr. said. "I'm very disappointed that he would use that kind of language. I'm hoping that he's apologizing at least to himself, because that's not the John Kerry that I know." Is calling Bush's policy "fucked" worse than cussing out a U.S. Senator on the floor of the Senate? Is Cheney apologizing to himself in an undisclosed location as we speak? Pot, meet kettle.
ITEM! If you think you're having a bad day, you need to go rent 'Touching The Void, a documentary of sorts about a Peruvian climbing expedition gone horribly wrong. Falling off a mountain and breaking your leg is just the start of one rotten day. This is an amazing flick, using interviews and very effective reenactments to put you in the footsteps of climbers. Things happen in this film that if it weren't based on a true story, you'd say, "no way, man." Harrowing, gripping stuff and gorgeous scenery to boot. I dreamt I was climbing glaciers after watching this.
ITEM! Hoping to see "Fahrenheit 9/11" this weekend with some folks from work. Will post comments later on.
ITEM! Great coverage by our news team on the wounding of three local soldiers in Iraq Wednesday. Like the death of Reagan, it's one of those moments when the newsroom pops into Mach 3 and shows what it can do. Fortunately it looks like the three guys will be OK, although the extent of their injuries isn't certain.
ITEM! So Vice President Dick Cheney told a senator to "fuck yourself" on the floor of the Senate yesterday. But as usual the right-wing apologists, who would make excuses for the Bushs if the president was found sodomizing a dead whale in the Rose Garden, will find a way to make this Kerry's fault somehow. You know, everyone uses the "F" word on occasion. It's human nature. That I have no problem with. It's the hypocrisy of the self-proclaimed moralists in the White House that bugs me. Let's use the wayback machine to go back in time a bit: (from The Washington Post) In December, Democratic presidential candidate John F. Kerry was quoted using the same word in describing Bush's Iraq policy as botched. The president's chief of staff reacted with indignation. "That's beneath John Kerry," Chief of Staff Andrew H. Card Jr. said. "I'm very disappointed that he would use that kind of language. I'm hoping that he's apologizing at least to himself, because that's not the John Kerry that I know." Is calling Bush's policy "fucked" worse than cussing out a U.S. Senator on the floor of the Senate? Is Cheney apologizing to himself in an undisclosed location as we speak? Pot, meet kettle.
ITEM! If you think you're having a bad day, you need to go rent 'Touching The Void, a documentary of sorts about a Peruvian climbing expedition gone horribly wrong. Falling off a mountain and breaking your leg is just the start of one rotten day. This is an amazing flick, using interviews and very effective reenactments to put you in the footsteps of climbers. Things happen in this film that if it weren't based on a true story, you'd say, "no way, man." Harrowing, gripping stuff and gorgeous scenery to boot. I dreamt I was climbing glaciers after watching this.
ITEM! Hoping to see "Fahrenheit 9/11" this weekend with some folks from work. Will post comments later on.
Friday, June 25, 2004
The inevitable has happened: A couple of our county soldiers have been wounded in Iraq. Very sketchy details at this point, all we know are their names. We have a high population of military folk here, like most poorer rural areas, and a lot of local National Guardsmen are in Iraq.
It's infuriating to me. Whether or not you agree with the war, our armed forces are clearly undermanned, relying heavily on 'part-time' soldiers like these guardsmen to carry the load that professional lifetime soldiers should have to do. Far too many guardsmen and reservists are paying the price in Iraq for Bush's failure to understand the scope of this conflict.
Just hope these guys are OK, no word yet.
It's infuriating to me. Whether or not you agree with the war, our armed forces are clearly undermanned, relying heavily on 'part-time' soldiers like these guardsmen to carry the load that professional lifetime soldiers should have to do. Far too many guardsmen and reservists are paying the price in Iraq for Bush's failure to understand the scope of this conflict.
Just hope these guys are OK, no word yet.
Hey, it's Thursday, and it's trashy gross comedy reviews day!
‘Along Came Polly’
Tell me if you’ve heard this one before: Boy meets girl. Boy and girl are totally different. Girl is free spirit. Boy is uptight geek. Will boy and girl fall in love?
“Along Came Polly,” last winter’s surprise box office hit, stars Ben Stiller and Jennifer Aniston doing that age-old tale. It’s the kind of movie that raises a few chuckles without ever quite being truly memorable.
Stiller is Reuben Feffer, a “risk analyst” for an insurance company who is cuckolded by his wife on their honeymoon. Dejected, he meets an old high school friend, Polly (Aniston), who he begins dating. But Polly’s a swingin’ girl full of zest for life, while Reuben’s the kind of guy who calculates the risks and advantages of everything he does. Do they have a shot together?
While funny in spurts, “Polly,” written and directed by John Hamburg, has an amateurish quality. It lurches randomly from romantic comedy to gross-out humor. The gross bits have nothing to do with the rest of the movie, and they’re often just childishly lame.
Part of the problem is that we’re given no reason Polly would fall for a spaz like Reuben. No effort is made to make her more than a quirky stereotype. Aniston tries, but you can’t make gold out of a script written of lead. As for Stiller, he really needs to stop playing the same tightly wound control freak. Is there any real difference between Reuben or his “Meet The Parents” and “There’s Something About Mary” characters?
Frankly, it’s the supporting actors that make “Polly” more fun than it is — you’ve got Alec Baldwin as a gravel-voiced boss, Hank Azaria as a funny unintelligible Frenchman, and particularly, Philip Seymour Hoffman as a slob actor pal of Stiller’s.
Stiller and Aniston are talented, but this movie is just lowest common denominator time-waster. Underneath all the poop jokes, “Polly” is a kind of sweet comedy about a broken man finding new love. It’s a shame they didn’t try to play it without gross humor to drive the teens in, because it could’ve been a much better movie.
**1/2 of ****
‘Eurotrip’
Rude, energetic and unapologetically immature, “Eurotrip” is the kind of goofy teen comedy that sometimes is just what you’re in the mood for.
After high school senior Scotty (Scott Mechlowitz) is dumped by his girlfriend, he decides to head to Germany to meet his foreign female pen-pal. With his buddy Cooper (Jacob Pitt), and twins Jenny and Jamie (Travis Wester and Michelle Trachtenberg), the group encounter hi-jinks galore as they head from England to Germany, offending everyone in-between.
As teen sex comedies go, “Eurotrip” is fresh and not too vicious. Like the first “American Pie,” it helps to have good characters if you’re going to make a ditzy teen movie.
The teen actors are a pretty likable bunch, rather than a group of snotty anarchists. Mechlowitz comes off a bit like a young Tom Cruise, while Pitts is seriously channeling David Spade. They’re no young Brandos, but the cast makes the movie’s 90 minutes zip by.
Like “American Pie,” it’s a movie full of outrageous moments. A scene in a debauched Amsterdam sex shop is a funny squirm-inducing highlight.
We see French mimes, nude beaches, European trains and even the Pope all come in for healthy ridicule. “Eurotrip” makes fun of the wacky foreigners, but it’s pretty equal-opportunity bashing. The clueless Americans also come in for their share of the jokes.
It has no socially redeeming value, but not all movies need to, do they? If you’re feeling naughty, “Eurotrip” is a zippy little journey.
*** of ****
‘Along Came Polly’
Tell me if you’ve heard this one before: Boy meets girl. Boy and girl are totally different. Girl is free spirit. Boy is uptight geek. Will boy and girl fall in love?
“Along Came Polly,” last winter’s surprise box office hit, stars Ben Stiller and Jennifer Aniston doing that age-old tale. It’s the kind of movie that raises a few chuckles without ever quite being truly memorable.
Stiller is Reuben Feffer, a “risk analyst” for an insurance company who is cuckolded by his wife on their honeymoon. Dejected, he meets an old high school friend, Polly (Aniston), who he begins dating. But Polly’s a swingin’ girl full of zest for life, while Reuben’s the kind of guy who calculates the risks and advantages of everything he does. Do they have a shot together?
While funny in spurts, “Polly,” written and directed by John Hamburg, has an amateurish quality. It lurches randomly from romantic comedy to gross-out humor. The gross bits have nothing to do with the rest of the movie, and they’re often just childishly lame.
Part of the problem is that we’re given no reason Polly would fall for a spaz like Reuben. No effort is made to make her more than a quirky stereotype. Aniston tries, but you can’t make gold out of a script written of lead. As for Stiller, he really needs to stop playing the same tightly wound control freak. Is there any real difference between Reuben or his “Meet The Parents” and “There’s Something About Mary” characters?
Frankly, it’s the supporting actors that make “Polly” more fun than it is — you’ve got Alec Baldwin as a gravel-voiced boss, Hank Azaria as a funny unintelligible Frenchman, and particularly, Philip Seymour Hoffman as a slob actor pal of Stiller’s.
Stiller and Aniston are talented, but this movie is just lowest common denominator time-waster. Underneath all the poop jokes, “Polly” is a kind of sweet comedy about a broken man finding new love. It’s a shame they didn’t try to play it without gross humor to drive the teens in, because it could’ve been a much better movie.
**1/2 of ****
‘Eurotrip’
Rude, energetic and unapologetically immature, “Eurotrip” is the kind of goofy teen comedy that sometimes is just what you’re in the mood for.
After high school senior Scotty (Scott Mechlowitz) is dumped by his girlfriend, he decides to head to Germany to meet his foreign female pen-pal. With his buddy Cooper (Jacob Pitt), and twins Jenny and Jamie (Travis Wester and Michelle Trachtenberg), the group encounter hi-jinks galore as they head from England to Germany, offending everyone in-between.
As teen sex comedies go, “Eurotrip” is fresh and not too vicious. Like the first “American Pie,” it helps to have good characters if you’re going to make a ditzy teen movie.
The teen actors are a pretty likable bunch, rather than a group of snotty anarchists. Mechlowitz comes off a bit like a young Tom Cruise, while Pitts is seriously channeling David Spade. They’re no young Brandos, but the cast makes the movie’s 90 minutes zip by.
Like “American Pie,” it’s a movie full of outrageous moments. A scene in a debauched Amsterdam sex shop is a funny squirm-inducing highlight.
We see French mimes, nude beaches, European trains and even the Pope all come in for healthy ridicule. “Eurotrip” makes fun of the wacky foreigners, but it’s pretty equal-opportunity bashing. The clueless Americans also come in for their share of the jokes.
It has no socially redeeming value, but not all movies need to, do they? If you’re feeling naughty, “Eurotrip” is a zippy little journey.
*** of ****
Thursday, June 24, 2004
The Beastie Boys have the number one record in America. Believe it or not despite my recent CD buying binge it's one I didn't buy -- and I own all five of their previous albums. Their hip-hop hi-jinks have always been a guilty pleasure for me. But for some reason, what I've heard of the new CD, From The Five Boroughs, just hasn't grabbed me. I've downloaded a few sample tracks but, while the rhyming is solid and the old attitude is there, they just aren't really jazzing me like "Intergalactic" or "Whatcha Want" did as singles. I guess I'm age-ist but I suddenly view the BB as a nostalgia act. The word is that this album is more "stripped-down" hip-hop and lacking the rich samples, jazzy breaks and free-form experimentation that made their last few albums such a joy for me. And while I'm as down with left-leaning politics as everyone, the Beasties have usually been pretty ham-fisted and lack subtlety when they start trying to get political, which seems to be a big theme with this record. ("I'm getting kinda tired of this situation/the U.S. attacking other nations" -- ehhhhh) I'll probably get "Boroughs" sooner or later in some form but for now it just isn't a priority.
What to make of Wilco? The uncategorizable band released their latest unclassifiable album, "A Ghost Is Born, yesterday. I've been digesting it ever since. Wilco is a fascinating act -- like many of my favorite bands (Beatles, Bowie, etc.), they've mutated and changed like crazy since their earlier work, becoming something wholly other from where they began. Rising from the ashes of half of alt-country legends Uncle Tupelo, Wilco was supposed to be a folksy alt-country act -- and that's what their first album, 1995's A.M., sounded like. But a decade on and four albums later, Wilco 2004 would barely recognize Wilco 1995.
"A Ghost Is Born" is willfully, obstinately experimental. A better title might have been "Fragments." It's a scattered, frail and often beautiful little record. Like most Wilco CDs, it needs many listens to fully sink in. Their "popular" breakthrough, 2002's "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot," has become one of my favorites. "A Ghost Is Born" takes another step forward still -- once country/rock, Wilco is now a jamming, freeform combo that explores sonic boundaries and manages to combine bits of prog-rock, jazz, heavy metal, emo and more into a strange stew. Think Sonic Youth meets The Byrds, laced through with elements of electronica.
I'm still not sure what to make of "Ghost." I don't think it's as confident or cohesive as "Yankee," and it feels slighter somehow. There are beautiful songs, to be sure -- I particularly love the 10-minute Kraftwerk-meets-Velvet Underground jam workout of "Spiders (Kidsmoke), the jumpy pop-rock "Like A Wheel" and the album opener, chord-pounding "At Least That's What You Said." "Theologians" has a singalong feel like a lost 1970s Big Star track, while "Company In My Back" has a beautiful, glittering melody shimmering throughout. Frontman and Wilco's primary creator Jeff Tweedy has suffered from severe migraines and addiction to painkillers. The awful pain of migraines (I've had a few myself) kind of echoes throughout this album, maybe the first concept record on the subject. It feels fluttery, sparkling and vague.
But on early listens, this album also suffers from that fuzzy lack of focus. The flaws can be summed up by the grievous misstep of "Less Than You Think," a tinny piano ballad that is bloated by 12 minutes of indulgent, annoying and tuneless guitar feedback. In an Associated Press interview, Tweedy said this about the "song": “It was another way to encourage listeners to exercise their free will — to get up and turn it off." Cute. Maybe it's how Tweedy's migraines felt to him. But also a waste of disc space and energy, out of place with everything else here, and y'know, Lou Reed did the whole "an album of feedback" thing 30 years ago with "Metal Machine Music" and it wasn't that impressive then. The last song, the short those-were-the-days ode to music "The Late Greats," gets lost because it falls right after the unlistenable feedback workout.
Another thing that vexes about "Ghost" is how thin and buried in the mix Tweedy's voice is on too many tracks. Songs start in whispers and meander on for minutes before suddenly bursting into loud chords. The Pixies or Nirvana did the loud-soft dynamic thing well, but here it just seems like poor production. Tweedy's voice has never been a strong, dynamic one and losing it further in the sound is a shame because I love his lyrics, open-ended and strange poetry like on the tune "Muzzle of Bees." I feel like he's trying to hide them from listeners here.
Harping aside, I'm still enjoying a lot of "Ghost," but I hope it's a digression on the side for Wilco, and that they focus a little harder on making songs and less on studio mechanics for their next one. It's too early to give this a final grade, but right now I'm leaning toward giving it a B.
Edit: OK, listening to it still more last night, the flaws seem a little less important than the highlights. Also, Tweedy's voice doesn't seem QUITE so buried if you listen in a quiet room rather than while driving in a car or in a noisy living room with a baby babbling. :D Let's call it a B+ if we must grade and be done with it.
"A Ghost Is Born" is willfully, obstinately experimental. A better title might have been "Fragments." It's a scattered, frail and often beautiful little record. Like most Wilco CDs, it needs many listens to fully sink in. Their "popular" breakthrough, 2002's "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot," has become one of my favorites. "A Ghost Is Born" takes another step forward still -- once country/rock, Wilco is now a jamming, freeform combo that explores sonic boundaries and manages to combine bits of prog-rock, jazz, heavy metal, emo and more into a strange stew. Think Sonic Youth meets The Byrds, laced through with elements of electronica.
I'm still not sure what to make of "Ghost." I don't think it's as confident or cohesive as "Yankee," and it feels slighter somehow. There are beautiful songs, to be sure -- I particularly love the 10-minute Kraftwerk-meets-Velvet Underground jam workout of "Spiders (Kidsmoke), the jumpy pop-rock "Like A Wheel" and the album opener, chord-pounding "At Least That's What You Said." "Theologians" has a singalong feel like a lost 1970s Big Star track, while "Company In My Back" has a beautiful, glittering melody shimmering throughout. Frontman and Wilco's primary creator Jeff Tweedy has suffered from severe migraines and addiction to painkillers. The awful pain of migraines (I've had a few myself) kind of echoes throughout this album, maybe the first concept record on the subject. It feels fluttery, sparkling and vague.
But on early listens, this album also suffers from that fuzzy lack of focus. The flaws can be summed up by the grievous misstep of "Less Than You Think," a tinny piano ballad that is bloated by 12 minutes of indulgent, annoying and tuneless guitar feedback. In an Associated Press interview, Tweedy said this about the "song": “It was another way to encourage listeners to exercise their free will — to get up and turn it off." Cute. Maybe it's how Tweedy's migraines felt to him. But also a waste of disc space and energy, out of place with everything else here, and y'know, Lou Reed did the whole "an album of feedback" thing 30 years ago with "Metal Machine Music" and it wasn't that impressive then. The last song, the short those-were-the-days ode to music "The Late Greats," gets lost because it falls right after the unlistenable feedback workout.
Another thing that vexes about "Ghost" is how thin and buried in the mix Tweedy's voice is on too many tracks. Songs start in whispers and meander on for minutes before suddenly bursting into loud chords. The Pixies or Nirvana did the loud-soft dynamic thing well, but here it just seems like poor production. Tweedy's voice has never been a strong, dynamic one and losing it further in the sound is a shame because I love his lyrics, open-ended and strange poetry like on the tune "Muzzle of Bees." I feel like he's trying to hide them from listeners here.
Harping aside, I'm still enjoying a lot of "Ghost," but I hope it's a digression on the side for Wilco, and that they focus a little harder on making songs and less on studio mechanics for their next one. It's too early to give this a final grade, but right now I'm leaning toward giving it a B.
Edit: OK, listening to it still more last night, the flaws seem a little less important than the highlights. Also, Tweedy's voice doesn't seem QUITE so buried if you listen in a quiet room rather than while driving in a car or in a noisy living room with a baby babbling. :D Let's call it a B+ if we must grade and be done with it.
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