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"content": "\u003cp>If you’ve ever tried to get an apartment in San Francisco or New York, you know the extreme stress that can come with the house hunt. It’s rarely a choice of which apartment to take, it’s more like hoping that any apartment at all becomes available. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With all the anxiety of the apartment search, comes a twist on the haunted house motif. The classic haunted house is entered on a dare, or to find a lost treasure. I don’t think there’s a name for the genre that includes \u003cb>The Haunted Rental\u003c/b> or \u003cb>Hell’s Mortgage\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This week, I watched \u003cb>The Sentinel\u003c/b>, a classic of a Haunted Rental that is finally available on DVD. This inspired me to come up with other films of the same ilk. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Sentinel:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>A young model moves into a $500-a-month furnished apartment in New York. It’s priced down a bit, since it’s the Gateway To Hell. 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I really can’t think of many pagan crime drama musicals, the category that would best describe \u003cb>The Wicker Man\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Wicker Man\u003c/b> is also one of those great movies not to watch with your parents. On the surface, it looks like a smart British crime drama or horror film. With the appearance of Christopher Lee, it could be a harmless cheesy scare flick, like a Hammer Film Studios production. It’s all of those things, with quite a bit of pagan sex rituals and naked dancing Wiccans. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The main character is Sergeant Howie, a police detective who visits a remote Welsh island to investigate the disappearance of a young woman. No one on the island seems to want him there. No one even acknowledges the girl he seeks even existed. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What’s equally disturbing to the stringent Catholic detective are the pagan rituals that seem to dominate the island. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As the film progresses, it steadily increases in quality and depth of story. The film reaches a climax with its final frames. The longer I watched, the more interested I became. This is how movies should be, but is rarely the case. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I love the first fifteen minutes of many films. This, for most releases, is only the character introduction. Still other films are good through the first twenty-five minutes, which is commonly referred to as the first act, ending at the first plot point. After that, the films reek of script rewrites, and the third act is little more than a chase scene, a fistfight, or a bomb diffusion. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pace\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Much has been made of alleged “throttling” that Netflix does to their clients. 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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Rosemary’s Baby:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>In another Polanski film, Mia Farrow moves into a great new place in New York. But soon, Satan slips her a roofie and she gives birth to the new prince of darkness. This film is slow paced by today’s horror standards, but it still one of the creepiest movies I’ve ever seen. Lesson: Don’t live in a building with friendly old people. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Poltergeist:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>A family moves into a new suburb. Appliances fly around, and the youngest daughter gets sucked into the great void, must be brought to the light or away from it or something, I can’t remember which. I don’t know how they would remake this one. I haven’t seen TV static in years. Now, Carol Ann would get sucked into a Real Estate Infomercial. Lesson: Always check to see if your house was built on an Indian burial ground or a graveyard. That’s always trouble. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Amityville Horror:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>This is based on a supposedly true story. The facts are there was a house in which an entire family was killed, and another family bought it later for well under the appraised value. After that, the story comes under scrutiny. This movie scared the bajeezus out of me when I saw it as a kid on TV. Even with the commercial breaks, I was terrified, if for nothing else than the child’s imaginary friend who can turn into some kind of pig demon.Lesson: Always ask if the walls drip blood, and check for phantom smells of feces and perfume. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Pick of the Week\u003c/b>\u003cbr>This was a close call this week. It was either going to be \u003cb>The Last Picture Show\u003c/b> or \u003cb>The Wicker Man\u003c/b>. I deliberated. \u003cb>The Last Picture Show\u003c/b> is better filmed, better scripted, and better cast than \u003cb>The Wicker Man\u003c/b>, but the latter film is so unlike anything else I’ve seen, I have to go with \u003cb>The Wicker Man\u003c/b>. \u003cb>The Last Picture Show\u003c/b> is one of the all time best “small town” movies, but there are plenty of those. I really can’t think of many pagan crime drama musicals, the category that would best describe \u003cb>The Wicker Man\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Wicker Man\u003c/b> is also one of those great movies not to watch with your parents. On the surface, it looks like a smart British crime drama or horror film. With the appearance of Christopher Lee, it could be a harmless cheesy scare flick, like a Hammer Film Studios production. It’s all of those things, with quite a bit of pagan sex rituals and naked dancing Wiccans. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The main character is Sergeant Howie, a police detective who visits a remote Welsh island to investigate the disappearance of a young woman. No one on the island seems to want him there. No one even acknowledges the girl he seeks even existed. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What’s equally disturbing to the stringent Catholic detective are the pagan rituals that seem to dominate the island. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As the film progresses, it steadily increases in quality and depth of story. The film reaches a climax with its final frames. The longer I watched, the more interested I became. This is how movies should be, but is rarely the case. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I love the first fifteen minutes of many films. This, for most releases, is only the character introduction. Still other films are good through the first twenty-five minutes, which is commonly referred to as the first act, ending at the first plot point. After that, the films reek of script rewrites, and the third act is little more than a chase scene, a fistfight, or a bomb diffusion. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pace\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Much has been made of alleged “throttling” that Netflix does to their clients. This refers to the company’s practice of sending DVDs to their newest clientele first, and giving priority to the customers who rent the least discs. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The biggest threat to this project, however, is my own lack of attention to detail. Twice this week, I didn’t get my movies back on time. Due to my own bad scheduling, I only got 7 DVDs this week, which is 4 less than the 11 I needed. This bumped my quota up to 10.13 DVDs per week for the duration of the project. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Swaps\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Stephen Virgilo suggested \u003cb>Twilight Samurai\u003c/b>. I love Samurai films. In fact, Kagemusha is one of the top films I watched this year. Out goes \u003cb>Timerider\u003c/b>, some random time travel sci-fi flick I added into my queue for reasons I can’t remember. \u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>Olivia (Jennifer Aniston), Jane (Frances McDormand), Franny (Joan Cusack) and Christine (Catherine Keener) have been friends forever. All are married except for Olivia, who is floundering. She’s a dropout, a pot-smoking loser who has given up teaching to clean houses and taken to dialing her married ex-boyfriend’s number at night just to hear the annoyance in his voice. All of her friends have money, children and successful careers. But underneath the slick exteriors of their modern L.A. homes lay various forms of discontent.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Friends with Money\u003c/b> isn’t an easy comedy, but it takes full advantage of the ensemble of talented actors writer/director Nicole Holofcener (\u003cb>Walking and Talking\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Lovely and Amazing\u003c/b>) has assembled. The film is made up of sideways glances and offhand remarks and the characters are perfectly smug smart-asses, each caught in a trap of their own design. They are just as willing to lend support to their friends as they are to turn around and gossip about them behind their backs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The striking contrast between the haves and the have-nots comes out over dinner one night as Franny and her husband struggle to figure out how to give away their money. When Jane asks how much and discovers it’s over two million dollars, she suggests the couple give some of the cash to Olivia, who is cleaning houses for a living. Naturally, the suggestion makes everyone uncomfortable. Frances McDormand’s Jane spends the whole film calling people on their petty behavior, wrapping her smirk around the words everyone else is thinking but would never say.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Later in the film, Olivia asks Franny for a small loan. Franny insists that the money she has inherited is not her own to give — because she’s married, but actually she thinks the loan will just be a waste. Anyone who has ever had a difficult conversation about money with a rich friend will recognize the exchange. In response to Olivia’s claim that Franny doesn’t understand how hard it is to make a living, Franny says, “I feel like I work. I feel like taking care of my kids is work.” To which Olivia replies, “But you have full time help!”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Olivia IS the help. She spends her time cleaning up other people’s messes. That’s the central joke of the film, Olivia is on the inside looking IN. Her friend’s philanthropy is a form of non-emotionally intrusive competition with other wealthy people. Franny has to give the money away impersonally, because giving within her own circle would force her to see the reality of her money and therefore examine her own situation. All she really wants to do is feel generous, to feel good about herself.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Nobody in the film wants to recognize the impact their actions have on the rest of the world. The film subtly skews all Americans in this way. We won’t see the consequences of our privilege and over-consumption until it smacks us in the face. After Christine and her husband have already added a second story to their small beach house, she realizes the impact the addition has had on her neighborhood. She and her husband pound away at a screenplay together, using the dialogue and motivations of their characters as proxies for their own frustrations with one another. Their entitlement keeps them from recognizing the impact their toxic relationship is having on one another, on their child, and ultimately on their community.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In fact, it is entitlement that separates Olivia from her friends. Having the means to do what you like, to get what you wish, to change whatever makes you unhappy doesn’t seem to make any of the characters more satisfied. Jane manufactures an expensive line of clothing and has become fabulously successful, but can’t even manage to wash her hair. The thought of it makes her arms tired. At one point she says that she spent her youth trying out new shampoos until she realized they were all made of the same ingredients. Ultimately, now that she is middle aged, there is no more mystery to what her “fabulous life will be like.” Wherever she is where she will be and this thought has made her depressed. Olivia, on the other hand, still struggling, still poor, continues to have the potential of \u003ci>becoming\u003c/i>. Her failure has left her with no illusions about her place in the world. Jane’s success has become a trap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Friends with Money\u003c/b> could easily have been called \u003cb>People with Problems\u003c/b>. It is a subtle portrait of a group of friends who are struggling with the reality of their lives. They have a long history with one another and it shows in the subtle ways that they care for and criticize one another. The film is both hilariously cruel and movingly kind to its characters, each person’s facade gets pierced at some point and they have to see exactly who they have become. Though they spend the film acerbically attacking the rest of the world, their fiercest jabs are at each other and at themselves.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Friends with Money\u003c/b> opens April 7, 2006.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Olivia (Jennifer Aniston), Jane (Frances McDormand), Franny (Joan Cusack) and Christine (Catherine Keener) have been friends forever. All are married except for Olivia, who is floundering. She’s a dropout, a pot-smoking loser who has given up teaching to clean houses and taken to dialing her married ex-boyfriend’s number at night just to hear the annoyance in his voice. All of her friends have money, children and successful careers. But underneath the slick exteriors of their modern L.A. homes lay various forms of discontent.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Friends with Money\u003c/b> isn’t an easy comedy, but it takes full advantage of the ensemble of talented actors writer/director Nicole Holofcener (\u003cb>Walking and Talking\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Lovely and Amazing\u003c/b>) has assembled. The film is made up of sideways glances and offhand remarks and the characters are perfectly smug smart-asses, each caught in a trap of their own design. They are just as willing to lend support to their friends as they are to turn around and gossip about them behind their backs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The striking contrast between the haves and the have-nots comes out over dinner one night as Franny and her husband struggle to figure out how to give away their money. When Jane asks how much and discovers it’s over two million dollars, she suggests the couple give some of the cash to Olivia, who is cleaning houses for a living. Naturally, the suggestion makes everyone uncomfortable. Frances McDormand’s Jane spends the whole film calling people on their petty behavior, wrapping her smirk around the words everyone else is thinking but would never say.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Later in the film, Olivia asks Franny for a small loan. Franny insists that the money she has inherited is not her own to give — because she’s married, but actually she thinks the loan will just be a waste. Anyone who has ever had a difficult conversation about money with a rich friend will recognize the exchange. In response to Olivia’s claim that Franny doesn’t understand how hard it is to make a living, Franny says, “I feel like I work. I feel like taking care of my kids is work.” To which Olivia replies, “But you have full time help!”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Olivia IS the help. She spends her time cleaning up other people’s messes. That’s the central joke of the film, Olivia is on the inside looking IN. Her friend’s philanthropy is a form of non-emotionally intrusive competition with other wealthy people. Franny has to give the money away impersonally, because giving within her own circle would force her to see the reality of her money and therefore examine her own situation. All she really wants to do is feel generous, to feel good about herself.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Nobody in the film wants to recognize the impact their actions have on the rest of the world. The film subtly skews all Americans in this way. We won’t see the consequences of our privilege and over-consumption until it smacks us in the face. After Christine and her husband have already added a second story to their small beach house, she realizes the impact the addition has had on her neighborhood. She and her husband pound away at a screenplay together, using the dialogue and motivations of their characters as proxies for their own frustrations with one another. Their entitlement keeps them from recognizing the impact their toxic relationship is having on one another, on their child, and ultimately on their community.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In fact, it is entitlement that separates Olivia from her friends. Having the means to do what you like, to get what you wish, to change whatever makes you unhappy doesn’t seem to make any of the characters more satisfied. Jane manufactures an expensive line of clothing and has become fabulously successful, but can’t even manage to wash her hair. The thought of it makes her arms tired. At one point she says that she spent her youth trying out new shampoos until she realized they were all made of the same ingredients. Ultimately, now that she is middle aged, there is no more mystery to what her “fabulous life will be like.” Wherever she is where she will be and this thought has made her depressed. Olivia, on the other hand, still struggling, still poor, continues to have the potential of \u003ci>becoming\u003c/i>. Her failure has left her with no illusions about her place in the world. Jane’s success has become a trap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Friends with Money\u003c/b> could easily have been called \u003cb>People with Problems\u003c/b>. It is a subtle portrait of a group of friends who are struggling with the reality of their lives. They have a long history with one another and it shows in the subtle ways that they care for and criticize one another. The film is both hilariously cruel and movingly kind to its characters, each person’s facade gets pierced at some point and they have to see exactly who they have become. Though they spend the film acerbically attacking the rest of the world, their fiercest jabs are at each other and at themselves.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Friends with Money\u003c/b> opens April 7, 2006.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>Before he was acting in \u003cb>Blade\u003c/b> movies, Kris Kristofferson worked with some of the best directors of American Cinema. There’s not an actor out there who wouldn’t love to have worked with the same people. But acting was Kristofferson’s second career, and it almost ended in 1980. The man’s life will be the subject of an interesting movie someday.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kristofferson got his master’s degree in English literature from Oxford University. Then he joined the army and became a helicopter pilot. After all that, he decided to enter the music business. He made his big break by landing a helicopter in Johnny Cash’s yard and personally handing the singer some of his tapes. He later lost his helicopter license for passing out drunk at the controls. He quit drinking in 1976.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>His career as a recording artist never lived up to its potential. Other people made hits recording his songs, from Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson to Janis Joplin, but Kristofferson’s own recordings never sold as well as others’.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1971, he appeared in \u003cb>The Last Movie\u003c/b>, a Dennis Hopper disaster that was supposed to be the sequel to \u003cb>Easy Rider\u003c/b>. From there he worked with Paul Mazursky in \u003cb>Blume in Love\u003c/b>, Martin Scorsese in \u003cb>Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore\u003c/b>, in the Frank Pierson scripted 2nd remake of \u003cb>A Star Is Born\u003c/b>, in Michael Richie’s \u003cb>Semi Tough\u003c/b>, and with Sam Peckinpah three times in \u003cb>Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia\u003c/b>, and \u003cb>Convoy\u003c/b>. Upon the massive financial debacle that was 1980’s \u003cb>Heaven’s Gate\u003c/b>, director Michael Camino and Kristofferson bore the stigma of failure and came close to ending their careers completely. In 1996, Kristofferson finally shook the reputation with a chilling performance as the sheriff in John Sayles’ \u003cb>Lone Star\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kristofferson turns 70 this June, and has taken to smaller roles in major productions, most notably the \u003cb>Blade\u003c/b> series, Tim Burton’s \u003cb>Planet of the Apes\u003c/b>, and Brian Helgeland’s \u003cb>Payback\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pick of the Week:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>This week’s pick is \u003cb>Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid\u003c/b>. There is a warning to this: Sam Peckinpah’s violence is unforgiving and ruthless. In many other Westerns, killing is heroic, if not a way of life; in a Peckinpah film killing is portrayed as the brutal act of violence it is.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That being said, this is an overly sentimental Western of two old friends, one hunting for the other. The West is changing at the turn of the century, and the lawless are giving way to the landowners and the ranchers. Pat Garrett is an outlaw turned lawman, and he is assigned to bring in Billy the Kid, who is determined not to give up his lifestyle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>About halfway through the film, Poe, Garrett’s deputy makes his statement on the state of The Old West: “Country’s gotta make a choice. Time’s over for drifters and outlaws and those who got no backbone.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To which Garrett responds: “I’m gonna tell you this once: I don’t want to have to say it again. This country’s getting old. I aim to get old with it. Now, the Kid don’t want it that way. He might be a better man for it. I ain’t judging. But I don’t want you explaining nothing to me. And I don’t want you saying nothing about the Kid and nobody else in my damn county.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Coburn, who turned up also in this week’s \u003cb>Hard Times\u003c/b>, plays Pat Garrett, in what was perhaps is best role. Kristofferson shines as Billy the Kid, and Peckinpah even manages to find use for Bob Dylan. The scene with Dylan’s “Knocking at Heaven’s Door’ is one of Peckinpah’s best.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pace:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>I watched another 11 DVDs this week. 108 DVDs in 92 days gets me to only 428 for the year. I have 273 days left to watch 392 DVDs. 10.05 per week, and I’ll get it. Still not under that 10 per week that I would like to achieve.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Swaps\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Some of the followers of this project have suggested films to me. l’ve added them to my queue, while dumping other films. You’re also welcome to email me with ideas for what to dump.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Stephen Brophy suggested two films. The first, \u003cb>You Can Count On Me\u003c/b>, I had rated “not interested” on my list. Brophy exclaimed, “Dude, you HAVE to see this. You are crazy! It’s a great movie.” Of \u003cb>The Last Picture Show\u003c/b> he says “If you haven’t seen it, you must should oughta do it now.” Gone is \u003cb>Trancers\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Undeclared\u003c/b>‘s Bonus Disc.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Chris McVicker suggested two movies to me. The first one was \u003cb>Rockers\u003c/b>, which he said was based on my review of \u003cb>The Harder They Come\u003c/b>. He says it’s “grittier.” The second one was \u003cb>Pat Garett and Billy the Kid\u003c/b>, based on my numerous western reviews, and which turned out to be my pick of the week. I removed \u003cb>The Wild Bunch: Special Edition\u003c/b>, which I thought I had already watched, and \u003cb>Bat Whispers\u003c/b>, a film from 1930.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Stephen Virgilo suggested \u003cb>Kung Fu Hustle\u003c/b>. He didn’t say why. I assume he just liked it a lot. I’ve liked a lot of martial arts films, so I added it in. I took out the Leni Riefenstahl starred \u003cb>S.O.S. Iceberg\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As it turns out, I hadn’t seen \u003cb>The Wild Bunch: Special Edition\u003c/b>. I watched \u003cb>The Magnificent Seven\u003c/b>. I guess this whole thing is rotting my brain. So I put it back in, and dumped a horror movie that I forgot what it was. Yes, my brain is rotten.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Before he was acting in \u003cb>Blade\u003c/b> movies, Kris Kristofferson worked with some of the best directors of American Cinema. There’s not an actor out there who wouldn’t love to have worked with the same people. But acting was Kristofferson’s second career, and it almost ended in 1980. The man’s life will be the subject of an interesting movie someday.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kristofferson got his master’s degree in English literature from Oxford University. Then he joined the army and became a helicopter pilot. After all that, he decided to enter the music business. He made his big break by landing a helicopter in Johnny Cash’s yard and personally handing the singer some of his tapes. He later lost his helicopter license for passing out drunk at the controls. He quit drinking in 1976.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>His career as a recording artist never lived up to its potential. Other people made hits recording his songs, from Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson to Janis Joplin, but Kristofferson’s own recordings never sold as well as others’.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1971, he appeared in \u003cb>The Last Movie\u003c/b>, a Dennis Hopper disaster that was supposed to be the sequel to \u003cb>Easy Rider\u003c/b>. From there he worked with Paul Mazursky in \u003cb>Blume in Love\u003c/b>, Martin Scorsese in \u003cb>Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore\u003c/b>, in the Frank Pierson scripted 2nd remake of \u003cb>A Star Is Born\u003c/b>, in Michael Richie’s \u003cb>Semi Tough\u003c/b>, and with Sam Peckinpah three times in \u003cb>Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia\u003c/b>, and \u003cb>Convoy\u003c/b>. Upon the massive financial debacle that was 1980’s \u003cb>Heaven’s Gate\u003c/b>, director Michael Camino and Kristofferson bore the stigma of failure and came close to ending their careers completely. In 1996, Kristofferson finally shook the reputation with a chilling performance as the sheriff in John Sayles’ \u003cb>Lone Star\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kristofferson turns 70 this June, and has taken to smaller roles in major productions, most notably the \u003cb>Blade\u003c/b> series, Tim Burton’s \u003cb>Planet of the Apes\u003c/b>, and Brian Helgeland’s \u003cb>Payback\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pick of the Week:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>This week’s pick is \u003cb>Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid\u003c/b>. There is a warning to this: Sam Peckinpah’s violence is unforgiving and ruthless. In many other Westerns, killing is heroic, if not a way of life; in a Peckinpah film killing is portrayed as the brutal act of violence it is.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>That being said, this is an overly sentimental Western of two old friends, one hunting for the other. The West is changing at the turn of the century, and the lawless are giving way to the landowners and the ranchers. Pat Garrett is an outlaw turned lawman, and he is assigned to bring in Billy the Kid, who is determined not to give up his lifestyle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>About halfway through the film, Poe, Garrett’s deputy makes his statement on the state of The Old West: “Country’s gotta make a choice. Time’s over for drifters and outlaws and those who got no backbone.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To which Garrett responds: “I’m gonna tell you this once: I don’t want to have to say it again. This country’s getting old. I aim to get old with it. Now, the Kid don’t want it that way. He might be a better man for it. I ain’t judging. But I don’t want you explaining nothing to me. And I don’t want you saying nothing about the Kid and nobody else in my damn county.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Coburn, who turned up also in this week’s \u003cb>Hard Times\u003c/b>, plays Pat Garrett, in what was perhaps is best role. Kristofferson shines as Billy the Kid, and Peckinpah even manages to find use for Bob Dylan. The scene with Dylan’s “Knocking at Heaven’s Door’ is one of Peckinpah’s best.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pace:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>I watched another 11 DVDs this week. 108 DVDs in 92 days gets me to only 428 for the year. I have 273 days left to watch 392 DVDs. 10.05 per week, and I’ll get it. Still not under that 10 per week that I would like to achieve.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Swaps\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Some of the followers of this project have suggested films to me. l’ve added them to my queue, while dumping other films. You’re also welcome to email me with ideas for what to dump.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Stephen Brophy suggested two films. The first, \u003cb>You Can Count On Me\u003c/b>, I had rated “not interested” on my list. Brophy exclaimed, “Dude, you HAVE to see this. You are crazy! It’s a great movie.” Of \u003cb>The Last Picture Show\u003c/b> he says “If you haven’t seen it, you must should oughta do it now.” Gone is \u003cb>Trancers\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Undeclared\u003c/b>‘s Bonus Disc.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Chris McVicker suggested two movies to me. The first one was \u003cb>Rockers\u003c/b>, which he said was based on my review of \u003cb>The Harder They Come\u003c/b>. He says it’s “grittier.” The second one was \u003cb>Pat Garett and Billy the Kid\u003c/b>, based on my numerous western reviews, and which turned out to be my pick of the week. I removed \u003cb>The Wild Bunch: Special Edition\u003c/b>, which I thought I had already watched, and \u003cb>Bat Whispers\u003c/b>, a film from 1930.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Stephen Virgilo suggested \u003cb>Kung Fu Hustle\u003c/b>. He didn’t say why. I assume he just liked it a lot. I’ve liked a lot of martial arts films, so I added it in. I took out the Leni Riefenstahl starred \u003cb>S.O.S. Iceberg\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As it turns out, I hadn’t seen \u003cb>The Wild Bunch: Special Edition\u003c/b>. I watched \u003cb>The Magnificent Seven\u003c/b>. I guess this whole thing is rotting my brain. So I put it back in, and dumped a horror movie that I forgot what it was. Yes, my brain is rotten.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>In the opening of the film \u003cb>V for Vendetta\u003c/b> we are introduced to Evey, (Natalie Portman) and V in a cross-cutting sequence that immediately connects the two characters. As Evey is putting on heels and make-up for a night out, V (Hugo Weaving) sits in front of a mirror, in a chamber reminiscent of an actor’s dressing room, putting on a mask and costume for his night out. There is the obvious desire to connect the notion of gender construction to V’s costume. In the same way that Evey’s heels and lipstick are paramount to a gender performance, V’s mask is also part of a performance, an illusion that both hides his face from the outside world and a creates an identity to face the outside world with. In each instance it is an illusion — malleable, inconsistent and evolving, just like the character of V.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The audience meets V, a verbose, Shakespeare quoting, knife wielding, ass kicking, anti-hero, whose face is obscured by a Guy Fawkes mask, as he gallantly saves Evey. Even in political films women are always in need of rescue. Once saved, their first unofficial date finds the pair on a rooftop with V orchestrating the demolition of the Old Bailey in time to the 1812 Overture blaring on government controlled loud speakers throughout the city. In one of many implausible plot turns, V reveals to Evey (a complete stranger) that he intends to blow up the parliament building on November 5th to commemorate the day Guy Fawkes attempted and failed in 1605, and to incite the masses to revolt against their oppressive government. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>V for Vendetta\u003c/b>, a morbid, dark and politically loaded film is set in the realm of a future dictatorship where all freedoms and liberty have been abolished in the name of security and order (sound familiar?). This future Britain, which looks too much like fascist Germany, is lead by Chancellor Sutler (John Hurt). The dictator rules with an iron fist, routinely making “undesirables” disappear, using the media as a tool to scare and subdue the masses, and commanding the twin ideologies of religion and nationalism to suppress any opposition to his power. The allusions to the present political regime in the United States are quite evident. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With its bombast and overly simplistic message of revolution, \u003cb>V\u003c/b> could have turned into a cartoon, if it weren’t for the present day political situation. I watched it just as the government mounted a media campaign to invade Iran, as former Supreme Court justice Sandra Day O’Connor warned about how the erosion of the judiciary could lead to a dictatorship, and as the \u003ci>New York Times\u003c/i> published an article about an elite special operations unit that converted one of Saddam Hussein’s former military bases near Baghdad into a top-secret detention center where soldiers tortured detainees while interrogating them. What would have been far-fetched and over the top, became all too creepy and real. The film explores a worst case scenario rooted in present-day developments. Subtlety is not the film’s strong suite, but in the face of a media that is unwilling to critique the government, \u003cb>V for Vendetta\u003c/b> is the most unflinchingly political export from Hollywood that I have seen in quite a while.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the place of a succession of loud chases in Dolby surround sound pounding our eardrums, \u003cb>V\u003c/b> is an action film where people occasionally stop to talk and images are allowed to unfold. With his penchant for theatrics, love of \u003cb>The Count of Monty Cristo\u003c/b> and appreciation of art, music, and literature, V is a refreshingly flamboyant leading man and such a relief from the usual stony-faced, square jawed, silent and strong male protagonist. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Played against the backdrop of a corrupt and fascist regime, V could be considered a revolutionary, a terrorist, an anti-hero or a man with a bloodthirsty quest for vengeance. Perhaps, rather than being a hypocrite and inciting violence, while condemning the government for doing the same thing, V actually embodies all of these impulses. This is most obviously suggested by his name, which is not a real name, but merely a letter that can stand for multiple words and meanings. V is for Vengeance, V is for Villain, V stands for the Roman numeral five of the room he was kept in at a concentration camp, V is for Valerie, a fellow inmate, whose letter helps him transform into his present persona. Like his mask, his name is an illusion that hides his true past and present identity from the outside world.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>In the opening of the film \u003cb>V for Vendetta\u003c/b> we are introduced to Evey, (Natalie Portman) and V in a cross-cutting sequence that immediately connects the two characters. As Evey is putting on heels and make-up for a night out, V (Hugo Weaving) sits in front of a mirror, in a chamber reminiscent of an actor’s dressing room, putting on a mask and costume for his night out. There is the obvious desire to connect the notion of gender construction to V’s costume. In the same way that Evey’s heels and lipstick are paramount to a gender performance, V’s mask is also part of a performance, an illusion that both hides his face from the outside world and a creates an identity to face the outside world with. In each instance it is an illusion — malleable, inconsistent and evolving, just like the character of V.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The audience meets V, a verbose, Shakespeare quoting, knife wielding, ass kicking, anti-hero, whose face is obscured by a Guy Fawkes mask, as he gallantly saves Evey. Even in political films women are always in need of rescue. Once saved, their first unofficial date finds the pair on a rooftop with V orchestrating the demolition of the Old Bailey in time to the 1812 Overture blaring on government controlled loud speakers throughout the city. In one of many implausible plot turns, V reveals to Evey (a complete stranger) that he intends to blow up the parliament building on November 5th to commemorate the day Guy Fawkes attempted and failed in 1605, and to incite the masses to revolt against their oppressive government. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>V for Vendetta\u003c/b>, a morbid, dark and politically loaded film is set in the realm of a future dictatorship where all freedoms and liberty have been abolished in the name of security and order (sound familiar?). This future Britain, which looks too much like fascist Germany, is lead by Chancellor Sutler (John Hurt). The dictator rules with an iron fist, routinely making “undesirables” disappear, using the media as a tool to scare and subdue the masses, and commanding the twin ideologies of religion and nationalism to suppress any opposition to his power. The allusions to the present political regime in the United States are quite evident. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With its bombast and overly simplistic message of revolution, \u003cb>V\u003c/b> could have turned into a cartoon, if it weren’t for the present day political situation. I watched it just as the government mounted a media campaign to invade Iran, as former Supreme Court justice Sandra Day O’Connor warned about how the erosion of the judiciary could lead to a dictatorship, and as the \u003ci>New York Times\u003c/i> published an article about an elite special operations unit that converted one of Saddam Hussein’s former military bases near Baghdad into a top-secret detention center where soldiers tortured detainees while interrogating them. What would have been far-fetched and over the top, became all too creepy and real. The film explores a worst case scenario rooted in present-day developments. Subtlety is not the film’s strong suite, but in the face of a media that is unwilling to critique the government, \u003cb>V for Vendetta\u003c/b> is the most unflinchingly political export from Hollywood that I have seen in quite a while.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the place of a succession of loud chases in Dolby surround sound pounding our eardrums, \u003cb>V\u003c/b> is an action film where people occasionally stop to talk and images are allowed to unfold. With his penchant for theatrics, love of \u003cb>The Count of Monty Cristo\u003c/b> and appreciation of art, music, and literature, V is a refreshingly flamboyant leading man and such a relief from the usual stony-faced, square jawed, silent and strong male protagonist. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cp>I remember the first time I heard a dub of a dub of a Daniel Johnston cassette. I was working at Film Arts Foundation and walked into the equipment rental room as organ music droned over the makeshift sound system. All of the sudden, a desperate man screamed, “Satan! Satan!” It was the sound of real fear. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing. For a moment the casual air was sliced through with an otherworldly desperation that not even the most jaded young hipster could ignore. It made the hair on the back of my neck bristle. Listening to that Daniel Johnston tape was like eavesdropping on the life of a man pursued.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Devil and Daniel Johnston\u003c/b> tells the story of artist-musician Johnston’s struggle with his own genius. It is a swirl of images culled from decades of the man’s prodigious output. It seems that art lives inside Johnston and is rushing to escape his body. He is like an electrical appliance plugged into too much voltage, overheating and blowing circuits, worse for the wear.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A mad rush of creativity, the film is a frenetic collage of drawings and songs, home movies and cassette-taped ramblings. A vivid portrait of the almost-outsider artist (whose music has been an in-crowd mainstay for decades), the film tracks Johnston’s creative life from junior high to the present, chronicling his rise as a cult phenomenon and his equally dramatic bouts with manic-depressive psychosis. It mirrors its subject in texture and feeling, the tone swinging maniacally from joy and elation to deep fear and depression.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Early on, Daniel struggles with his family. His creative output is so voluminous, so manic that it disturbs the peace and crowds his family out of their own suburban home. Daniel is passed from family member to family member as his parents and siblings try to cope with his fragile mental state. Living in his brother’s garage in Texas, Johnston acquires two cassette tape recorders, a microphone and a keyboard and begins producing the tapes that will make him a legend, \u003cb>Hi, How Are You?\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Yip/Jump Music\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Some Songs of Pain\u003c/b> among them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the mid-1980s, Johnston ends up in Austin, TX (after running away with a traveling carnival and sustaining a head injury), just as the music scene is taking off. He proceeds to ingratiate himself with the locals, handing out homemade copies of his cassettes. Somehow, he ends up performing on MTV’s \u003cb>The Cutting Edge\u003c/b> and turns in one of that show’s most memorable performances. In 1986, Johnston is named Austin’s Songwriter of the Year and Best Folk Act. Of course, the high points are followed by very dark lows. Johnston spends his life in and out of trouble, in and out of mental hospitals, pursued by Satan and pulled too often into his own personal hallucination of hell.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kathy McCarty, who met Daniel right after he arrived in Austin and gave him his first gig opening for her band Glass Eye, says, “In Daniel’s life, everywhere he’s gone, he leaves this incredible wake behind of creation and destruction. He’s done all kinds of things, both bad and good, but they’re all mythic. They’re all barely believable, yet they’re all true. And the kinds of things he’s done in his career are the kinds of things that someone would only do if they were so self-sabotaging that it was completely mystifying. But in terms of creating a legend, he’s done everything right.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Daniel Johnston has recorded miles of tape, both talking and singing, and created thousands of cartoon drawings. The filmmaker uses these materials to piece together a film that feels like a self-portrait of a man whose head has broken open, but whose heart remains pure.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Devil and Daniel Johnston\u003c/b> opens April 7, 2006.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>I remember the first time I heard a dub of a dub of a Daniel Johnston cassette. I was working at Film Arts Foundation and walked into the equipment rental room as organ music droned over the makeshift sound system. All of the sudden, a desperate man screamed, “Satan! Satan!” It was the sound of real fear. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing. For a moment the casual air was sliced through with an otherworldly desperation that not even the most jaded young hipster could ignore. It made the hair on the back of my neck bristle. Listening to that Daniel Johnston tape was like eavesdropping on the life of a man pursued.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Devil and Daniel Johnston\u003c/b> tells the story of artist-musician Johnston’s struggle with his own genius. It is a swirl of images culled from decades of the man’s prodigious output. It seems that art lives inside Johnston and is rushing to escape his body. He is like an electrical appliance plugged into too much voltage, overheating and blowing circuits, worse for the wear.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A mad rush of creativity, the film is a frenetic collage of drawings and songs, home movies and cassette-taped ramblings. A vivid portrait of the almost-outsider artist (whose music has been an in-crowd mainstay for decades), the film tracks Johnston’s creative life from junior high to the present, chronicling his rise as a cult phenomenon and his equally dramatic bouts with manic-depressive psychosis. It mirrors its subject in texture and feeling, the tone swinging maniacally from joy and elation to deep fear and depression.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Early on, Daniel struggles with his family. His creative output is so voluminous, so manic that it disturbs the peace and crowds his family out of their own suburban home. Daniel is passed from family member to family member as his parents and siblings try to cope with his fragile mental state. Living in his brother’s garage in Texas, Johnston acquires two cassette tape recorders, a microphone and a keyboard and begins producing the tapes that will make him a legend, \u003cb>Hi, How Are You?\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Yip/Jump Music\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Some Songs of Pain\u003c/b> among them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the mid-1980s, Johnston ends up in Austin, TX (after running away with a traveling carnival and sustaining a head injury), just as the music scene is taking off. He proceeds to ingratiate himself with the locals, handing out homemade copies of his cassettes. Somehow, he ends up performing on MTV’s \u003cb>The Cutting Edge\u003c/b> and turns in one of that show’s most memorable performances. In 1986, Johnston is named Austin’s Songwriter of the Year and Best Folk Act. Of course, the high points are followed by very dark lows. Johnston spends his life in and out of trouble, in and out of mental hospitals, pursued by Satan and pulled too often into his own personal hallucination of hell.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kathy McCarty, who met Daniel right after he arrived in Austin and gave him his first gig opening for her band Glass Eye, says, “In Daniel’s life, everywhere he’s gone, he leaves this incredible wake behind of creation and destruction. He’s done all kinds of things, both bad and good, but they’re all mythic. They’re all barely believable, yet they’re all true. And the kinds of things he’s done in his career are the kinds of things that someone would only do if they were so self-sabotaging that it was completely mystifying. But in terms of creating a legend, he’s done everything right.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Daniel Johnston has recorded miles of tape, both talking and singing, and created thousands of cartoon drawings. The filmmaker uses these materials to piece together a film that feels like a self-portrait of a man whose head has broken open, but whose heart remains pure.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Devil and Daniel Johnston\u003c/b> opens April 7, 2006.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>\u003cb>The Long, Rambling Pick of The Week\u003c/b>\u003cbr>\nThere was a lot of attention for a documentary called \u003cb>Grizzly Man\u003c/b> last year. The heart of the film was made from footage shot by Timothy Treadwell, a man who erroneously believed that he could live among the bears of Alaska the way Jane Goodall lived among chimps. What shocked many viewers was not the outcome of the film, but the dark view of the narrator and film’s director, Warner Herzog. Without knowing his work, the film seems unusually callous to Treadwell’s fate.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Herzog fans where the ones laughing in the theater. Those of us familiar with his work understood the other level of the film. We knew why he was drawn to both the subject matter and to Timothy Treadwell.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Herzog is an accomplished director, and well known internationally. He has directed over 50 films, and won many awards, including the Director’s Guild Award for \u003cb>Grizzly Man\u003c/b>. But the two films he’s most known for are \u003cb>Fitzcarraldo\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Aguirre: The Wrath of God\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Both films are the signature performances for Klaus Kinski. At his best, he’s one of the top film actors ever. Without Herzog’s direction, however, his performances are sometimes hacky and often uneven. Kinski’s presence on the screen is nothing short of stunning, and in these two roles, he is allowed to be as big as he wants.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Herzog’s films usually include a commentary track that is not to be missed. Herzog treats the listener like a biographer. From technical aspects of filmmaking to the emotional duress he suffered to make his films, the listener can learn about parts of the filmmaking world most of us would never otherwise know. On \u003cb>Fitzcarraldo\u003c/b> and on \u003cb>Aguirre: the Wrath of God\u003c/b>, his comments are invaluable and somewhat heartbreaking, as the wistful tone in his voice emerges ever so slightly when talking about the performance of his lead actor. Near the end of \u003cb>Aguirre\u003c/b>, when Kinski picks up a monkey, scowls at it, then throws it in disgust, Herzog states, “only Kinski could do that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Being familiar with not only his documentaries and his dramas but also with his commentary tracks, a whole new level of understanding emerges when listening to the the narration of \u003cb>Grizzly Man\u003c/b>. Treadwell, who, for the most part, is an anti-Kinski. He’s a stringy blond, but other than that, he’s a huggy, non-threatening hippie wingnut. As the film progresses, and Treadwell espouses his philosophies of man and nature, Herzog talks over his subject to the shock of the new viewers and to the amusement of Herzog fans. Herzog speaks of the chaos in which man and nature coexist, which are at the core of the conflict of both \u003cb>Fitzcarraldo\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Aguirre\u003c/b>, as each time Kinski’s character tries, with the will of a demigod, to deny the power and force of nature. Later in \u003cb>Grizzly Man\u003c/b>, when Treadwell has his uncharacteristic temper tantrum, he suddenly looks like Kinski, and Herzog states, “I have dealt with such a man before.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kinski died in 1991. Herzog continued to make films, including a documentary about Kinski, called \u003cb>My Best Fiend\u003c/b>. This film, along with another, \u003cb>Burden of Dreams\u003c/b>, a documentary about the making of \u003cb>Fitzcarraldo\u003c/b>, show Kinski for who he was: someone who straddled the genius/madman line, and needed a friend like Herzog to keep him on the right side of that line.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Finally, the pick:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>\nThis week’s pick is \u003cb>Aguirre: The Wrath of God\u003c/b>. I’m ranking it number one overall for the year. It has outdone \u003cb>Kagemusha\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Suspiria\u003c/b> on my list for what I’ve seen this year. At the beginning of this project, I added in many Kinski films I hadn’t seen. This is one I saw years before on a video copy with standard TV ratios.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I was disappointed by many of the Kinski roles, most notably \u003cb>Web of the Spider\u003c/b> and \u003cb>To Kill a Jackal\u003c/b>, in which Kinski is unharnessed by the director and his performance chaotic, or the role is so minimal that Kinski’s presence barely makes a dent on the film’s surface.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But watching Kinski as Aguirre was something to remember. His walk, his stare, his ability to command attention are unparalleled. He’s one of the few actors of the post silent era that could really act without saying a word. In some ways, his performance reminds me of Lon Chaney’s incredible silent roles in films such as \u003cb>The Unknown\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Warner Herzog was in his late twenties when he made the first of his signature works. While making this film, he literally risked the life and welfare of his cast, crew, and himself. This was repeated during the making of \u003cb>Fitzcarraldo\u003c/b>. Herzog is part daredevil, part explorer, and part filmmaker.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kinski plays Aguirre, a Spanish soldier bent on finding El Dorado and starting his own country. Along the way, he shouts a horse into submission and throws a monkey in disgust. The acting is nothing short of amazing. Kinski is magnanimous and frightening playing the man with delusions of grandeur.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As is true with many films of this caliber, if you have only seen this on video and not on widescreen format, please rewatch it on this wonderful format. The DVD is pristine, and packed with extras, including the essential commentary from Herzog.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pace\u003c/b>\u003cbr>\nI got through 11 DVDs again this week, which catches me up by a small fraction. I still need to average 10.07 DVDs per week, so I’m looking at more 11 Per Week viewings until I can get that number down to an even 10.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s all about Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. I have to watch 3 DVDs on Tuesday and Wednesday to get 3 more for the weekend, giving me 11 total. To get movies on Tuesdays, I have to drop DVDs in the mail on Friday, which means I have to watch them on Thursdays.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "\u003cb>The Long, Rambling Pick of The Week\u003c/b>\u003cbr />There was a lot of attention for a documentary called \u003cb>Grizzly Man\u003c/b> last year. The heart of the film was made from footage shot by Timothy Treadwell, a man who erroneously believed that he could live among the bears of Alaska the way Jane Goodall lived among chimps. What shocked many viewers was not the outcome of the film, but the dark view of the narrator and film's director, Warner Herzog. Without knowing his work, the film seems unusually callous to Treadwell's fate.\u003cbr />\u003cbr />",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cb>The Long, Rambling Pick of The Week\u003c/b>\u003cbr>\nThere was a lot of attention for a documentary called \u003cb>Grizzly Man\u003c/b> last year. The heart of the film was made from footage shot by Timothy Treadwell, a man who erroneously believed that he could live among the bears of Alaska the way Jane Goodall lived among chimps. What shocked many viewers was not the outcome of the film, but the dark view of the narrator and film’s director, Warner Herzog. Without knowing his work, the film seems unusually callous to Treadwell’s fate.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Herzog fans where the ones laughing in the theater. Those of us familiar with his work understood the other level of the film. We knew why he was drawn to both the subject matter and to Timothy Treadwell.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Herzog is an accomplished director, and well known internationally. He has directed over 50 films, and won many awards, including the Director’s Guild Award for \u003cb>Grizzly Man\u003c/b>. But the two films he’s most known for are \u003cb>Fitzcarraldo\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Aguirre: The Wrath of God\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Both films are the signature performances for Klaus Kinski. At his best, he’s one of the top film actors ever. Without Herzog’s direction, however, his performances are sometimes hacky and often uneven. Kinski’s presence on the screen is nothing short of stunning, and in these two roles, he is allowed to be as big as he wants.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Herzog’s films usually include a commentary track that is not to be missed. Herzog treats the listener like a biographer. From technical aspects of filmmaking to the emotional duress he suffered to make his films, the listener can learn about parts of the filmmaking world most of us would never otherwise know. On \u003cb>Fitzcarraldo\u003c/b> and on \u003cb>Aguirre: the Wrath of God\u003c/b>, his comments are invaluable and somewhat heartbreaking, as the wistful tone in his voice emerges ever so slightly when talking about the performance of his lead actor. Near the end of \u003cb>Aguirre\u003c/b>, when Kinski picks up a monkey, scowls at it, then throws it in disgust, Herzog states, “only Kinski could do that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Being familiar with not only his documentaries and his dramas but also with his commentary tracks, a whole new level of understanding emerges when listening to the the narration of \u003cb>Grizzly Man\u003c/b>. Treadwell, who, for the most part, is an anti-Kinski. He’s a stringy blond, but other than that, he’s a huggy, non-threatening hippie wingnut. As the film progresses, and Treadwell espouses his philosophies of man and nature, Herzog talks over his subject to the shock of the new viewers and to the amusement of Herzog fans. Herzog speaks of the chaos in which man and nature coexist, which are at the core of the conflict of both \u003cb>Fitzcarraldo\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Aguirre\u003c/b>, as each time Kinski’s character tries, with the will of a demigod, to deny the power and force of nature. Later in \u003cb>Grizzly Man\u003c/b>, when Treadwell has his uncharacteristic temper tantrum, he suddenly looks like Kinski, and Herzog states, “I have dealt with such a man before.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kinski died in 1991. Herzog continued to make films, including a documentary about Kinski, called \u003cb>My Best Fiend\u003c/b>. This film, along with another, \u003cb>Burden of Dreams\u003c/b>, a documentary about the making of \u003cb>Fitzcarraldo\u003c/b>, show Kinski for who he was: someone who straddled the genius/madman line, and needed a friend like Herzog to keep him on the right side of that line.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Finally, the pick:\u003c/b>\u003cbr>\nThis week’s pick is \u003cb>Aguirre: The Wrath of God\u003c/b>. I’m ranking it number one overall for the year. It has outdone \u003cb>Kagemusha\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Suspiria\u003c/b> on my list for what I’ve seen this year. At the beginning of this project, I added in many Kinski films I hadn’t seen. This is one I saw years before on a video copy with standard TV ratios.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I was disappointed by many of the Kinski roles, most notably \u003cb>Web of the Spider\u003c/b> and \u003cb>To Kill a Jackal\u003c/b>, in which Kinski is unharnessed by the director and his performance chaotic, or the role is so minimal that Kinski’s presence barely makes a dent on the film’s surface.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But watching Kinski as Aguirre was something to remember. His walk, his stare, his ability to command attention are unparalleled. He’s one of the few actors of the post silent era that could really act without saying a word. In some ways, his performance reminds me of Lon Chaney’s incredible silent roles in films such as \u003cb>The Unknown\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Warner Herzog was in his late twenties when he made the first of his signature works. While making this film, he literally risked the life and welfare of his cast, crew, and himself. This was repeated during the making of \u003cb>Fitzcarraldo\u003c/b>. Herzog is part daredevil, part explorer, and part filmmaker.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kinski plays Aguirre, a Spanish soldier bent on finding El Dorado and starting his own country. Along the way, he shouts a horse into submission and throws a monkey in disgust. The acting is nothing short of amazing. Kinski is magnanimous and frightening playing the man with delusions of grandeur.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As is true with many films of this caliber, if you have only seen this on video and not on widescreen format, please rewatch it on this wonderful format. The DVD is pristine, and packed with extras, including the essential commentary from Herzog.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pace\u003c/b>\u003cbr>\nI got through 11 DVDs again this week, which catches me up by a small fraction. I still need to average 10.07 DVDs per week, so I’m looking at more 11 Per Week viewings until I can get that number down to an even 10.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s all about Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. I have to watch 3 DVDs on Tuesday and Wednesday to get 3 more for the weekend, giving me 11 total. To get movies on Tuesdays, I have to drop DVDs in the mail on Friday, which means I have to watch them on Thursdays.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>For some reason, cowboys are in these days. Or at least cowboy hats. I’m not sure the men underneath actually qualify as cowboys — more like drifters. As Wim Wenders’ new film, \u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b>, begins, the drifter, Howard Spence (Sam Shepard) is in full gallop (accompanied by a theme song that sounds a lot like Morricone). For the first third of the film, we follow him on a seemingly aimless path away — from responsibility, from a b-movie film set where he is the star — desert landscape gloriously unraveling behind him. He is as inscrutable as a tumbleweed. Why is he running? Where is he going? If you get caught up in these questions, the whole film will seem like an exercise in futility, as they are the same questions asked (no, sung) at the end of the film.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One thing is certain, even though Howard’s destination is unknown, his path is achingly familiar. His is the tired, old bad boy story. You know, the one where a late middle-aged man discovers he has a grown child somewhere and feels compelled to go and see it for himself. Basically, \u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b> is Wim Wenders’ and Sam Shepard’s remake of \u003cb>Broken Flowers\u003c/b>, the Jim Jarmusch/Bill Murray picture in which another inscrutable man finds out he has a kid and goes searching through his little black book to find him. \u003cb>Broken Flowers\u003c/b> featured quirky Jim Jarmusch flourishes, \u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b> features the same by Wim Wenders. There are even moments when \u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b> seems to have collided with \u003cb>Twin Peaks\u003c/b>. A slow, deserted small town floats by at dusk, all candy colors and encroaching darkness. An almost nightmarishly dreamy band plays in the local roadhouse tavern — their narcotic sound incongruous in the small town bar.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I guess the trouble with building a story around a character who doesn’t understand — and never will come to understand — his own motivations is that the dramatic fireworks that emanate from his actions feel just as un-tethered as he does. While on the run from the bond company that has financed his latest film, Howard discovers he has a grown child and high-tails it to Butte, Montana to reunite with the kid, Earl, and his mother, Doreen after a more than twenty-year absence. Earl (Gabriel Mann) reacts badly, throwing everything he owns out the window of his small apartment. But the tantrum feels forced. We’ll never know Howard and we don’t know Earl, so we have no connection to his emotional outburst. It feels cliché, not like what his character would actually do, but like what his character thinks he is supposed to do. When Jessica Lange’s Doreen finally loses it toward the end of the film and has to fight her urges to both slap and kiss Howard, I found myself thinking how hard it must have been for the actress to get it up for a scene that both came out of nowhere and could be seen coming from miles away. It’s like these characters are all just pale echoes of better characters written much more eloquently a long time ago.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of course there are moments. Wim Wenders flourishes are nothing to be sneezed at and Sam Shepard can still write an amazingly poetic speech. At the beginning of the film, actions are interrupted, musical reveries suddenly cut short, dialogue is chopped mid-sentence as Wenders jumps back and forth between Howard’s aimless journey and the effect his sudden departure is having on the film production he has abandoned. Howard’s mother, as played by Eva Marie Saint, is just fun to watch no matter what she says or does.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Throughout the film, Sky (Sarah Polley), carrying her dead mother’s ashes in a big blue urn, shadows Howard as he wanders downtown Butte. While on the road in a pick-up truck, she carries on a conversation with her mother (in the urn, which she has lovingly buckled into the passenger seat — a great, and very tender touch). Polley’s Sky delivers the one really moving speech in the film, cutting through all the bullshit and getting right to the meat of the matter. Trouble is, it comes at the end of the film, after she’s spent the bulk of her time skulking around and having awkward half-interactions with the other characters.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In another scene, Howard sits on Earl’s couch, in a pile of Earl’s belongings thrown out into the middle of the street and watches the day go by. The camera tracks around him sitting in the rubble and watching time pass, fluffy clouds float in a big Montana sky, cars roll slowly by, an ice cream truck drifts past, its song distorted and sorely out of tune, day turns to night.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the end, it doesn’t add up. The characters aren’t real, the trite situation is just a set-up for reactions that feel forced. In one scene, while Earl’s girlfriend, Amber (Fairuza Balk) dances on his couch, while he plays out his frustration on electric guitar in the middle of the street, I found myself thinking, “what is ‘cool’?” Is it a series of costumes and poses, disconnected scenes and gestures? It made me wonder why Sam Shepard, Wim Wenders, Jim Jarmusch and Bill Murray are so good at producing these gestures, and how they once were so great at making things that were much more than just collections of gestures. Can \u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b> even compare to \u003cb>Paris, Texas\u003c/b>? Absolutely not. Everything Jarmusch has created since \u003cb>Stranger Than Paradise\u003c/b>, including \u003cb>Broken Flowers\u003c/b>, has paled in comparison to his early masterpiece. Or David Lynch — \u003cb>Blue Velvet\u003c/b>. They made the real thing once and now they are just making things that refer back to that reality. The gesture is just hollow and empty.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b> opens March 24, 2006\u003cbr>\n122 minutes\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "For some reason, cowboys are in these days. Or at least cowboy hats. I'm not sure the men underneath actually qualify as cowboys -- more like drifters. As Wim Wenders' new film, \u003cb>Don't Come Knocking\u003c/b>, begins, the drifter, Howard Spence (Sam Shepard) is in full gallop (accompanied by a theme song that sounds a lot like Morricone). For the first third of the film, we follow him on a seemingly aimless path away -- from responsibility, from a b-movie film set where he is the star -- desert landscape gloriously unraveling behind him. He is as inscrutable as a tumbleweed. Why is he running? Where is he going? If you get caught up in these questions, the whole film will seem like an exercise in futility, as they are the same questions asked (no, sung) at the end of the film.",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>For some reason, cowboys are in these days. Or at least cowboy hats. I’m not sure the men underneath actually qualify as cowboys — more like drifters. As Wim Wenders’ new film, \u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b>, begins, the drifter, Howard Spence (Sam Shepard) is in full gallop (accompanied by a theme song that sounds a lot like Morricone). For the first third of the film, we follow him on a seemingly aimless path away — from responsibility, from a b-movie film set where he is the star — desert landscape gloriously unraveling behind him. He is as inscrutable as a tumbleweed. Why is he running? Where is he going? If you get caught up in these questions, the whole film will seem like an exercise in futility, as they are the same questions asked (no, sung) at the end of the film.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One thing is certain, even though Howard’s destination is unknown, his path is achingly familiar. His is the tired, old bad boy story. You know, the one where a late middle-aged man discovers he has a grown child somewhere and feels compelled to go and see it for himself. Basically, \u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b> is Wim Wenders’ and Sam Shepard’s remake of \u003cb>Broken Flowers\u003c/b>, the Jim Jarmusch/Bill Murray picture in which another inscrutable man finds out he has a kid and goes searching through his little black book to find him. \u003cb>Broken Flowers\u003c/b> featured quirky Jim Jarmusch flourishes, \u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b> features the same by Wim Wenders. There are even moments when \u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b> seems to have collided with \u003cb>Twin Peaks\u003c/b>. A slow, deserted small town floats by at dusk, all candy colors and encroaching darkness. An almost nightmarishly dreamy band plays in the local roadhouse tavern — their narcotic sound incongruous in the small town bar.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I guess the trouble with building a story around a character who doesn’t understand — and never will come to understand — his own motivations is that the dramatic fireworks that emanate from his actions feel just as un-tethered as he does. While on the run from the bond company that has financed his latest film, Howard discovers he has a grown child and high-tails it to Butte, Montana to reunite with the kid, Earl, and his mother, Doreen after a more than twenty-year absence. Earl (Gabriel Mann) reacts badly, throwing everything he owns out the window of his small apartment. But the tantrum feels forced. We’ll never know Howard and we don’t know Earl, so we have no connection to his emotional outburst. It feels cliché, not like what his character would actually do, but like what his character thinks he is supposed to do. When Jessica Lange’s Doreen finally loses it toward the end of the film and has to fight her urges to both slap and kiss Howard, I found myself thinking how hard it must have been for the actress to get it up for a scene that both came out of nowhere and could be seen coming from miles away. It’s like these characters are all just pale echoes of better characters written much more eloquently a long time ago.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of course there are moments. Wim Wenders flourishes are nothing to be sneezed at and Sam Shepard can still write an amazingly poetic speech. At the beginning of the film, actions are interrupted, musical reveries suddenly cut short, dialogue is chopped mid-sentence as Wenders jumps back and forth between Howard’s aimless journey and the effect his sudden departure is having on the film production he has abandoned. Howard’s mother, as played by Eva Marie Saint, is just fun to watch no matter what she says or does.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Throughout the film, Sky (Sarah Polley), carrying her dead mother’s ashes in a big blue urn, shadows Howard as he wanders downtown Butte. While on the road in a pick-up truck, she carries on a conversation with her mother (in the urn, which she has lovingly buckled into the passenger seat — a great, and very tender touch). Polley’s Sky delivers the one really moving speech in the film, cutting through all the bullshit and getting right to the meat of the matter. Trouble is, it comes at the end of the film, after she’s spent the bulk of her time skulking around and having awkward half-interactions with the other characters.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In another scene, Howard sits on Earl’s couch, in a pile of Earl’s belongings thrown out into the middle of the street and watches the day go by. The camera tracks around him sitting in the rubble and watching time pass, fluffy clouds float in a big Montana sky, cars roll slowly by, an ice cream truck drifts past, its song distorted and sorely out of tune, day turns to night.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the end, it doesn’t add up. The characters aren’t real, the trite situation is just a set-up for reactions that feel forced. In one scene, while Earl’s girlfriend, Amber (Fairuza Balk) dances on his couch, while he plays out his frustration on electric guitar in the middle of the street, I found myself thinking, “what is ‘cool’?” Is it a series of costumes and poses, disconnected scenes and gestures? It made me wonder why Sam Shepard, Wim Wenders, Jim Jarmusch and Bill Murray are so good at producing these gestures, and how they once were so great at making things that were much more than just collections of gestures. Can \u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b> even compare to \u003cb>Paris, Texas\u003c/b>? Absolutely not. Everything Jarmusch has created since \u003cb>Stranger Than Paradise\u003c/b>, including \u003cb>Broken Flowers\u003c/b>, has paled in comparison to his early masterpiece. Or David Lynch — \u003cb>Blue Velvet\u003c/b>. They made the real thing once and now they are just making things that refer back to that reality. The gesture is just hollow and empty.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Don’t Come Knocking\u003c/b> opens March 24, 2006\u003cbr>\n122 minutes\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>\u003cb>Who is Jamaa Fanaka?\u003c/b>\u003cbr>\u003cb>Black Sister’s Revenge\u003c/b> came in this week, and I thoroughly enjoyed it for what it was: a low budget, truly independent film made at the tail end of the blaxploitation era. Many of the actors were in his or her only film role, most likely amateurs found by the director and taught the necessary acting skills for the role. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The film was made by Jamaa Fanaka, the producer, director, and writer of such films as: \u003cb>Street Wars\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Penetentiary 1\u003c/b>, \u003cb>2\u003c/b>, and \u003cb>3\u003c/b>. I’ve seen \u003cb>Street Wars\u003c/b> and the first two \u003cb>Penetentiary\u003c/b> films. They’re brutal, fun, and most importantly, have a real sense of personal style. Fanaka is a ’70s auteur akin to John Waters, but using ghetto archetypes where Waters used his menagerie of weirdos.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There are always scenes that surprise me. \u003cb>Street Wars\u003c/b> features crack dealers in Ultralites doing fly-by shootings. In other films Mr. T shows up, as does Tony Cox, best known as the black little person in \u003cb>Bad Santa\u003c/b>. Fanaka has his unique touches I don’t see even imitated in other films; who else would dare?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I wanted to write a comprehensive column about this director, but I could find nothing on the internet but reviews of the films and lists of the films he has made. How is it possible that information that I need is not on the internet? There’s nothing of real value on all those pages of nerdly knowledge. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Some years ago, I read an article about him in a magazine, and that’s how I found out about his work. It was something like \u003cb>Mass Appeal\u003c/b> or \u003cb>While You Were Sleeping\u003c/b> or \u003cb>Vice\u003c/b>. I can’t remember which, and the library doesn’t keep copies of those mags anyway. I don’t know the approximate month or anything that which would narrow my search.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’m putting the call out there. If you know something about Fanaka, drop a comment under this blog, or send me an email with a source. Better yet, if you have some contact information for him, I’ll interview him for this column. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pace\u003c/b>\u003cbr>So far this year, I’ve spent over six days watching these films. I figure it’s going to take between 24 and 30 days to watch them all. The thought of spending a month watching movies kinda freaked me out and kinda excited me. It is my favorite entertainment form, after all, but still, is that excessive? Then I got to thinking, that if I sleep 8 hours a night instead of 7, I’ll lose 15 days out of the year. This is the kind of math that drives me crazy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I hit 11 movies this week, which caught me up by literally a fraction. By my calculations, I have to average 10.09 a week from here on out to make 500 by the end of the year. So here’s looking at another 11 disc week. I’d sure like to get that number per week down to 10.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pick of the Week\u003c/b>\u003cbr>This week’s pick is John Woo’s \u003cb>Hard Boiled\u003c/b>. Hong Kong action films, especially those of John Woo, Ringo Lam, and Tsui Hark, were all the rage in hip art film circles in the early ’90s. Anyone who likes action films should love these bullet festivals that are choreographed as precisely as a Busby Berkeley musical. The action is well thought out and a thing of beauty.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Hard Boiled\u003c/b> features a performance by the god of the Hong Kong action actors, Chow Yun Fat. Maybe you know him as “the \u003cb>Crouching Tiger\u003c/b> Guy” or “the \u003cb>Bulletproof Monk\u003c/b>.” But if you haven’t viewed him in his best Hong Kong roles, you have no idea why he is one of the most successful international stars.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The plot focuses on the familar territory of policemen and gangsters. Many of the films in this genre pick one of these sides to draw from. This one asks the ethical questions of the differences between the two professions.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Between the high drama and the explosive action, there is another facet: the unintended humor of the translations. The translations are sometimes off by a whole word, or make an inappropriate contraction, or use an incorrect verb tense. These flukes seem to happen during pinnacles of tension. If you haven’t seen this film since it came out on video 14 years ago, it’s time to watch it again on DVD.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Other John Woo films to check out: \u003cb>Bullet in the Head\u003c/b>, \u003cb>The Killer\u003c/b>, and \u003cb>A Better Tomorrow\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "\u003cb>Who is Jamaa Fanaka?\u003c/b>\u003cbr />\u003cb>Black Sister's Revenge\u003c/b> came in this week, and I thoroughly enjoyed it for what it was: a low budget, truly independent film made at the tail end of the blaxploitation era. Many of the actors were in his or her only film role, most likely amateurs found by the director and taught the necessary acting skills for the role. \u003cp>The film was made by Jamaa Fanaka, the producer, director, and writer of such films as: \u003cb>Street Wars\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Penetentiary 1\u003c/b>, \u003cb>2\u003c/b>, and \u003cb>3\u003c/b>. I've seen \u003cb>Street Wars\u003c/b> and the first two \u003cb>Penetentiary\u003c/b> films. They're brutal, fun, and most importantly, have a real sense of personal style. Fanaka is a '70s auteur akin to John Waters, but using ghetto archetypes where Waters used his menagerie of weirdos.\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cb>Who is Jamaa Fanaka?\u003c/b>\u003cbr>\u003cb>Black Sister’s Revenge\u003c/b> came in this week, and I thoroughly enjoyed it for what it was: a low budget, truly independent film made at the tail end of the blaxploitation era. Many of the actors were in his or her only film role, most likely amateurs found by the director and taught the necessary acting skills for the role. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The film was made by Jamaa Fanaka, the producer, director, and writer of such films as: \u003cb>Street Wars\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Penetentiary 1\u003c/b>, \u003cb>2\u003c/b>, and \u003cb>3\u003c/b>. I’ve seen \u003cb>Street Wars\u003c/b> and the first two \u003cb>Penetentiary\u003c/b> films. They’re brutal, fun, and most importantly, have a real sense of personal style. Fanaka is a ’70s auteur akin to John Waters, but using ghetto archetypes where Waters used his menagerie of weirdos.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There are always scenes that surprise me. \u003cb>Street Wars\u003c/b> features crack dealers in Ultralites doing fly-by shootings. In other films Mr. T shows up, as does Tony Cox, best known as the black little person in \u003cb>Bad Santa\u003c/b>. Fanaka has his unique touches I don’t see even imitated in other films; who else would dare?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I wanted to write a comprehensive column about this director, but I could find nothing on the internet but reviews of the films and lists of the films he has made. How is it possible that information that I need is not on the internet? There’s nothing of real value on all those pages of nerdly knowledge. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Some years ago, I read an article about him in a magazine, and that’s how I found out about his work. It was something like \u003cb>Mass Appeal\u003c/b> or \u003cb>While You Were Sleeping\u003c/b> or \u003cb>Vice\u003c/b>. I can’t remember which, and the library doesn’t keep copies of those mags anyway. I don’t know the approximate month or anything that which would narrow my search.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’m putting the call out there. If you know something about Fanaka, drop a comment under this blog, or send me an email with a source. Better yet, if you have some contact information for him, I’ll interview him for this column. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pace\u003c/b>\u003cbr>So far this year, I’ve spent over six days watching these films. I figure it’s going to take between 24 and 30 days to watch them all. The thought of spending a month watching movies kinda freaked me out and kinda excited me. It is my favorite entertainment form, after all, but still, is that excessive? Then I got to thinking, that if I sleep 8 hours a night instead of 7, I’ll lose 15 days out of the year. This is the kind of math that drives me crazy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I hit 11 movies this week, which caught me up by literally a fraction. By my calculations, I have to average 10.09 a week from here on out to make 500 by the end of the year. So here’s looking at another 11 disc week. I’d sure like to get that number per week down to 10.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Pick of the Week\u003c/b>\u003cbr>This week’s pick is John Woo’s \u003cb>Hard Boiled\u003c/b>. Hong Kong action films, especially those of John Woo, Ringo Lam, and Tsui Hark, were all the rage in hip art film circles in the early ’90s. Anyone who likes action films should love these bullet festivals that are choreographed as precisely as a Busby Berkeley musical. The action is well thought out and a thing of beauty.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Hard Boiled\u003c/b> features a performance by the god of the Hong Kong action actors, Chow Yun Fat. Maybe you know him as “the \u003cb>Crouching Tiger\u003c/b> Guy” or “the \u003cb>Bulletproof Monk\u003c/b>.” But if you haven’t viewed him in his best Hong Kong roles, you have no idea why he is one of the most successful international stars.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The plot focuses on the familar territory of policemen and gangsters. Many of the films in this genre pick one of these sides to draw from. This one asks the ethical questions of the differences between the two professions.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Between the high drama and the explosive action, there is another facet: the unintended humor of the translations. The translations are sometimes off by a whole word, or make an inappropriate contraction, or use an incorrect verb tense. These flukes seem to happen during pinnacles of tension. If you haven’t seen this film since it came out on video 14 years ago, it’s time to watch it again on DVD.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Other John Woo films to check out: \u003cb>Bullet in the Head\u003c/b>, \u003cb>The Killer\u003c/b>, and \u003cb>A Better Tomorrow\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>\u003cb>BILLY WILDER STARTER KIT\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Last week, I watched Billy Wilder’s \u003cb>The Fortune Cookie\u003c/b>. When mentioning the film to people I knew, I was surprised at how many people didn’t know the director’s name. Yet, as I talked about Wilder’s films, everyone had seen several.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Billy Wilder is by no means obscure. He won his first Oscar sixty years ago. Four of his films are in the AFI top 100 films of all time list. It’s easy enough to catch his films on American Movie Classics or Turner Movie Classics. If you watch old movies, you probably have seen at least of few of his films whether you were aware of it or not.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here, in order of my personal taste, are ten Billy Wilder flicks for your own personal festival:\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Sunset Boulevard\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Wilder convinced silent film star Gloria Swanson to come out of retirement in order to play her most memorable role as Norma Desmond, the most frightening film diva to ever grace the screen. This is one of the darkest, noiriest, cringe-inducing films I’ve ever seen.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Stalag 17\u003c/b>\u003cbr>When talking about prison films or war films, this is on both lists for top ten of all time. It’s set in a POW camp in Germany during World War Two. One of the prisoners is actually a German spy, but whom? Paranoid, tense, and perfect?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Double Indemnity\u003c/b>\u003cbr>As far as I know, this was the first American film to portray adultery. The story, based on a James M. Cain novel, features a voiceover by the lead actor, Fred Macmurray that lets us in on the scheme.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Lost Weekend\u003c/b>\u003cbr>The first well-done movie about addiction. There were plenty of goofy \u003cb>Reefer Madness\u003c/b> type movies that were little more than shock value, but this is a fine example of what alcoholism and detoxing is really like. Ray Milland stars.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Some Like It Hot\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Ever wonder why Two Guys In Drag movies keep getting made? Because, once Billy Wilder did it so well, there are always Hollywood executives who believe that it can be done again. Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon and Marilyn Monroe.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Apartment\u003c/b>\u003cbr>This won five Oscars, and was nominated for five others. A poor chump allows four managers to use his apartment for their extra-marital affairs, while all the neighbors think he’s a horrible womanizer. Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine and Fred MacMurray.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Irma la Douce\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Jack Lemmon is Shirley Maclaine’s accidental pimp in this strangely colorful comedy set in France. After the Oscar-winning film \u003cb>The Apartment\u003c/b>, this was considered by the critics as a failure. But in retrospect, it’s a funny and surprising film.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Witness for the Prosecution\u003c/b>\u003cbr>On the surface, this is a courtroom movie without much more to it. But as the film unfolds, there are twists that would set even the most jaded \u003cb>Law & Order\u003c/b> fan on ear. Many similar films have been made since, but few so well.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Kiss Me Stupid\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Dean Martin plays a womanizing jerk of a lounge singer. An aspiring songwriter, working as a gas station attendant, sabotages his car in an effort to keep him in town. An underrated comedy with Wilder’s usual misunderstandings and mistaken identities.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Seven Year Itch\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Marilyn, the dress, and the grate. There are other reasons to watch this comedy, but this should be enough.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>WEEK WRAP UP\u003c/b>\u003cbr>I was in Utah all week, reading poems to Salt Lake City’s art scene. Overall it was a success, if you don’t take into consideration that I have over 400 DVDs to watch and I STAYED IN A PLACE WITH NO TV. Well, only for a few days, but then I stayed in another place with a TV and a BROKEN DVD player. I vainly attempted to fix the DVD player. I even tried a computer I found, but the picture was jumpy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Was there not one film nerd in Salt Lake City I could convince to watch \u003cb>Aguirre: The Wrath of God\u003c/b> with me? If there was, I couldn’t find him or her. I could find plenty of folks with whom to discuss the poems of Lorca or Ginsberg, in fact, I was at a party one night at which a nineteen year old earnestly read Ginsberg’s \u003cb>A Supermarket in California\u003c/b> from his book \u003cb>Howl\u003c/b> to anyone who would listen.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here, in San Francisco, I could easily walk into a place like The Atlas or Ritual Coffee Roasters and convince a stranger to watch a Herzog movie with me on his or her overpowered laptop. But in Salt Lake, I couldn’t excite anyone with the mention of Klaus Kinski.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Is this the Jimmy Cliff curse? Am I paying for not having yet watched \u003cb>The Harder They Come\u003c/b>? I’ve had that DVD for a month, but something always happens that I don’t watch it all the way through.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Regardless, I have 293 days left to watch 425 DVDs. 1.45 DVDs per day. It’s over 10 per week now. I have to hit 11 per week for a while to get it under 10 again.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So there’s no pick of the week. I didn’t watch a single movie this week for the first time since the Reagan administration.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "\u003cb>BILLY WILDER STARTER KIT\u003c/b>\u003cbr />Last week, I watched Billy Wilder's \u003cb>The Fortune Cookie\u003c/b>. When mentioning the film to people I knew, I was surprised at how many people didn't know the director's name. Yet, as I talked about Wilder's films, everyone had seen several.\u003cp>Billy Wilder is by no means obscure. He won his first Oscar sixty years ago. Four of his films are in the AFI top 100 films of all time list. It's easy enough to catch his films on American Movie Classics or Turner Movie Classics. If you watch old movies, you probably have seen at least of few of his films whether you were aware of it or not.\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cb>BILLY WILDER STARTER KIT\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Last week, I watched Billy Wilder’s \u003cb>The Fortune Cookie\u003c/b>. When mentioning the film to people I knew, I was surprised at how many people didn’t know the director’s name. Yet, as I talked about Wilder’s films, everyone had seen several.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Billy Wilder is by no means obscure. He won his first Oscar sixty years ago. Four of his films are in the AFI top 100 films of all time list. It’s easy enough to catch his films on American Movie Classics or Turner Movie Classics. If you watch old movies, you probably have seen at least of few of his films whether you were aware of it or not.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here, in order of my personal taste, are ten Billy Wilder flicks for your own personal festival:\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Sunset Boulevard\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Wilder convinced silent film star Gloria Swanson to come out of retirement in order to play her most memorable role as Norma Desmond, the most frightening film diva to ever grace the screen. This is one of the darkest, noiriest, cringe-inducing films I’ve ever seen.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Stalag 17\u003c/b>\u003cbr>When talking about prison films or war films, this is on both lists for top ten of all time. It’s set in a POW camp in Germany during World War Two. One of the prisoners is actually a German spy, but whom? Paranoid, tense, and perfect?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Double Indemnity\u003c/b>\u003cbr>As far as I know, this was the first American film to portray adultery. The story, based on a James M. Cain novel, features a voiceover by the lead actor, Fred Macmurray that lets us in on the scheme.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Lost Weekend\u003c/b>\u003cbr>The first well-done movie about addiction. There were plenty of goofy \u003cb>Reefer Madness\u003c/b> type movies that were little more than shock value, but this is a fine example of what alcoholism and detoxing is really like. Ray Milland stars.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Some Like It Hot\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Ever wonder why Two Guys In Drag movies keep getting made? Because, once Billy Wilder did it so well, there are always Hollywood executives who believe that it can be done again. Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon and Marilyn Monroe.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Apartment\u003c/b>\u003cbr>This won five Oscars, and was nominated for five others. A poor chump allows four managers to use his apartment for their extra-marital affairs, while all the neighbors think he’s a horrible womanizer. Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine and Fred MacMurray.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Irma la Douce\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Jack Lemmon is Shirley Maclaine’s accidental pimp in this strangely colorful comedy set in France. After the Oscar-winning film \u003cb>The Apartment\u003c/b>, this was considered by the critics as a failure. But in retrospect, it’s a funny and surprising film.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Witness for the Prosecution\u003c/b>\u003cbr>On the surface, this is a courtroom movie without much more to it. But as the film unfolds, there are twists that would set even the most jaded \u003cb>Law & Order\u003c/b> fan on ear. Many similar films have been made since, but few so well.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Kiss Me Stupid\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Dean Martin plays a womanizing jerk of a lounge singer. An aspiring songwriter, working as a gas station attendant, sabotages his car in an effort to keep him in town. An underrated comedy with Wilder’s usual misunderstandings and mistaken identities.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>The Seven Year Itch\u003c/b>\u003cbr>Marilyn, the dress, and the grate. There are other reasons to watch this comedy, but this should be enough.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>WEEK WRAP UP\u003c/b>\u003cbr>I was in Utah all week, reading poems to Salt Lake City’s art scene. Overall it was a success, if you don’t take into consideration that I have over 400 DVDs to watch and I STAYED IN A PLACE WITH NO TV. Well, only for a few days, but then I stayed in another place with a TV and a BROKEN DVD player. I vainly attempted to fix the DVD player. I even tried a computer I found, but the picture was jumpy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Was there not one film nerd in Salt Lake City I could convince to watch \u003cb>Aguirre: The Wrath of God\u003c/b> with me? If there was, I couldn’t find him or her. I could find plenty of folks with whom to discuss the poems of Lorca or Ginsberg, in fact, I was at a party one night at which a nineteen year old earnestly read Ginsberg’s \u003cb>A Supermarket in California\u003c/b> from his book \u003cb>Howl\u003c/b> to anyone who would listen.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here, in San Francisco, I could easily walk into a place like The Atlas or Ritual Coffee Roasters and convince a stranger to watch a Herzog movie with me on his or her overpowered laptop. But in Salt Lake, I couldn’t excite anyone with the mention of Klaus Kinski.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Is this the Jimmy Cliff curse? Am I paying for not having yet watched \u003cb>The Harder They Come\u003c/b>? I’ve had that DVD for a month, but something always happens that I don’t watch it all the way through.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Regardless, I have 293 days left to watch 425 DVDs. 1.45 DVDs per day. It’s over 10 per week now. I have to hit 11 per week for a while to get it under 10 again.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So there’s no pick of the week. I didn’t watch a single movie this week for the first time since the Reagan administration.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>A young man wakes up on a subway train bound for Coney Island. As the foreboding landscape rolls by, he realizes that he doesn’t know where he is going or where he has come from. As his mind sorts its way backward, trying to find the last detail remembered, the man realizes that he not only no longer knows where he is, but he also doesn’t know his own name. After turning himself in to the authorities, he is transferred from police station to medical hospital and then finally to mental ward, where he will be locked away until someone who knows him comes to claim him. He has awakened into a new and unfamiliar world, wearing only shorts and flip flops and carrying a backpack that contains few clues to his identity, just a pink slip of paper with a name and phone number on it. The phone number belongs to an elderly woman who sort of recognizes his voice, but can’t identify him and is unable to come to the young man’s assistance.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Unknown White Male\u003c/b> unfolds in nightmarish detail, a camera set to permanent fish eye travels streets and hallways, searching and not finding, each image distorted, each new scenario unfamiliar and horrifying. The pulse races as the man’s situation worsens. Without his identity, he is helpless. He is now in the care of the state. How will he reach back into the life forgotten, grab hold of anyone or anything and pull himself out of the rabbit hole of lost memory and into the safety of day to day existence? His name is Doug Bruce and his story is being told by his friend, Rupert Murray, a documentary filmmaker who picked up his own camera on hearing of Doug’s ordeal and rushed to both the story and his chum’s aid.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It seems that Doug has lost his episodic memory and, after myriad tests that uncover a lesion on his pituitary gland and nothing more, none of the doctors presented with the case can explain why. Apparently, though very rarely, some people just lose their memories. Perhaps it is an unexplained physical condition or a reaction to an emotional event. Most of the police and hospital workers in the film describe Doug’s amnesia as “movie amnesia,” something they’ve seen on television but have never come across in real life. And, even though this is a true story, there is something very “movie” about it. Perhaps it is because this kind of amnesia occurs so frequently in the rarefied world of the soap opera, and it usually turns out that the character is faking. The film feels like the least real documentary I have seen in years.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Perhaps it is just too difficult to face the inexplicable. As the film unfolds we begin to understand that no explanation is forthcoming — that there will be no attempt to investigate the events preceding Doug’s amnesia, and if there was, they might not serve as an explanation. The images unravel, the film is unresolved, there is no dramatic discovery, no climax where the event becomes clear and everything falls into place. Reality is tricky that way, not conforming to dramatic structure nor offering up easy answers. But something about this film just feels disingenuous. Even though \u003cb>Unknown White Male\u003c/b> was loaded with imagery that evoked the main character’s loss, his search for self and his eventual resolve to move on, a part of my mind kept wondering if the film wasn’t an elaborate hoax. Why? Why couldn’t my mind except that something catastrophic had happened to another mind, that another mind just woke up blank? Is it too scary to fathom? Does it threaten my own existence and identity by pointing out how tenuous they are?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I have to admit that there was something dodgey about Doug’s character. Both before and after the incident, Doug feels unreliable. This would make sense for someone who has lost his memory, who couldn’t remember who he was and was in the process of becoming someone new. At the beginning of the film, you can certainly see how traumatic the experience is for him, but once his community comes together to provide him with support — a community of women, each one lovelier and more intelligent than the last, and we discover that Doug is an independently wealthy citizen of the world, slipping from his New York loft to visit his father and sister in Spain, then on to his dead mother’s house in Paris, back to art school in New York and then to a reunion with the lads in London. I drifted away from Doug and started thinking how much different this situation would have been for someone without wealth and privilege. Though the actual occurrence wouldn’t have been more real for the poor man than the rich one, how much more REAL would it have been for a poor man than a rich one, forgetting how to do his job or trying to navigate the health care system? It doesn’t make the story any less dramatic or the film any less well made. It’s just where my mind wandered. The mind is a weird thing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Unknown White Male\u003c/b> opens March 10.\u003cbr>\n\u003ca href=\"http://www.sfgate.com/movies/playing/\">Get theaters and show times\u003c/a> (at sfgate.com).\u003cbr>\n\u003ca href=\"http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0436864/\">IMDB entry for this movie\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>A young man wakes up on a subway train bound for Coney Island. As the foreboding landscape rolls by, he realizes that he doesn’t know where he is going or where he has come from. As his mind sorts its way backward, trying to find the last detail remembered, the man realizes that he not only no longer knows where he is, but he also doesn’t know his own name. After turning himself in to the authorities, he is transferred from police station to medical hospital and then finally to mental ward, where he will be locked away until someone who knows him comes to claim him. He has awakened into a new and unfamiliar world, wearing only shorts and flip flops and carrying a backpack that contains few clues to his identity, just a pink slip of paper with a name and phone number on it. The phone number belongs to an elderly woman who sort of recognizes his voice, but can’t identify him and is unable to come to the young man’s assistance.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Unknown White Male\u003c/b> unfolds in nightmarish detail, a camera set to permanent fish eye travels streets and hallways, searching and not finding, each image distorted, each new scenario unfamiliar and horrifying. The pulse races as the man’s situation worsens. Without his identity, he is helpless. He is now in the care of the state. How will he reach back into the life forgotten, grab hold of anyone or anything and pull himself out of the rabbit hole of lost memory and into the safety of day to day existence? His name is Doug Bruce and his story is being told by his friend, Rupert Murray, a documentary filmmaker who picked up his own camera on hearing of Doug’s ordeal and rushed to both the story and his chum’s aid.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It seems that Doug has lost his episodic memory and, after myriad tests that uncover a lesion on his pituitary gland and nothing more, none of the doctors presented with the case can explain why. Apparently, though very rarely, some people just lose their memories. Perhaps it is an unexplained physical condition or a reaction to an emotional event. Most of the police and hospital workers in the film describe Doug’s amnesia as “movie amnesia,” something they’ve seen on television but have never come across in real life. And, even though this is a true story, there is something very “movie” about it. Perhaps it is because this kind of amnesia occurs so frequently in the rarefied world of the soap opera, and it usually turns out that the character is faking. The film feels like the least real documentary I have seen in years.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Perhaps it is just too difficult to face the inexplicable. As the film unfolds we begin to understand that no explanation is forthcoming — that there will be no attempt to investigate the events preceding Doug’s amnesia, and if there was, they might not serve as an explanation. The images unravel, the film is unresolved, there is no dramatic discovery, no climax where the event becomes clear and everything falls into place. Reality is tricky that way, not conforming to dramatic structure nor offering up easy answers. But something about this film just feels disingenuous. Even though \u003cb>Unknown White Male\u003c/b> was loaded with imagery that evoked the main character’s loss, his search for self and his eventual resolve to move on, a part of my mind kept wondering if the film wasn’t an elaborate hoax. Why? Why couldn’t my mind except that something catastrophic had happened to another mind, that another mind just woke up blank? Is it too scary to fathom? Does it threaten my own existence and identity by pointing out how tenuous they are?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I have to admit that there was something dodgey about Doug’s character. Both before and after the incident, Doug feels unreliable. This would make sense for someone who has lost his memory, who couldn’t remember who he was and was in the process of becoming someone new. 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The mind is a weird thing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cp>\u003cb>PICK OF THE WEEK: LADY SINGS THE BLUES\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I had a hard choice to make this week for The Pick. I saw a beautifully made comedy by Billy Wilder, \u003cb>The Fortune Cookie\u003c/b>. Then there was the unforgettable Edward James Olmos film \u003cb>American Me\u003c/b>, a brutal look at the rise of the Mexican Mafia. But in the end, I went with the film that moved me most, \u003cb>Lady Sings the Blues\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Walk The Line\u003c/b> did well this year, and \u003cb>Ray \u003c/b>did well last year. The music biopic has become a standard vehicle for a studio to cash in at the box office and to gain Oscar interest. In 1972, the Oscar race was fierce, and \u003cb>Lady Sings the Blues\u003c/b> got the blunt end of the statue.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Diana Ross shone as Billie Holiday, coming up from humble beginnings and making her way to the top. There was a lot of focus on her heroin use, as it was her demise. I thought the formula was inappropriate for the movie \u003cb>Ray\u003c/b>, wherein Ray Charles’ heroin use is given equal or greater weight to his music. While Billie Holiday was cut down in the prime of life, Ray Charles kicked his habit and had many productive years throughout the rest of his long life. Ross sang her own songs, as do her contemporary counterparts, but few could give the performance she gave.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Billy Dee Williams, unfortunately only known to most people as Lando Carlrissian and the spokesperson for Colt 45 malt liquor, played the male lead in a follow up to the previous year’s \u003cb>Brian’s Song\u003c/b>, which may be the best made for TV film ever, and before his part in \u003cb>Bingo Long’s Travelling All-Stars and Motor Kings\u003c/b>, a rare look at the world of barnstorming baseball teams in the days of the segregated major leagues. Williams turns in these fine performances, then takes a role in \u003cb>The Empire Strikes Back\u003c/b>, but then his career takes a downturn to films like Snoop Dogg’s \u003cb>Hood of Horror\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Richard Pryor shows up in his first significant acting role. He was no stranger to the business, but as a serious actor, it was one of his only non-comic roles. He appeared in the \u003cb>Bingo Long\u003c/b> movie some years later, alongside Williams once more, in a comic relief role in a somewhat serious film. It’s impossible not to notice Pryor, and want more screen time from him, as he constantly stole attention.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But all of these actors suffered in a year that brought many good films from Hollywood. It was the year of \u003cb>The Godfather\u003c/b>, which garnered many nominations and Oscars. \u003cb>Cabaret \u003c/b>also showed up that year, and was more popular with the music lovers. \u003cb>Sounder \u003c/b>took the attention of the African American vote. Michael Caine and Laurence Olivier gathered the rare double Best Actor nods for the same movie, \u003cb>Sleuth\u003c/b>. There were also strong showings by \u003cb>Deliverance\u003c/b>, \u003cb>The Heartbreak Kid\u003c/b>, and \u003cb>The Poseidon Adventure\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lady Sings The Blues\u003c/b> won no awards at all. Diana Ross was nominated for Best Actress, but was beat by Liza Manelli for her role in \u003cb>Cabaret\u003c/b>. Pryor didn’t stand a chance to get nominated with James Caan, Robert Duvall, and Al Pacino all nominated for their roles in \u003cb>The Godfather\u003c/b>. There were other nominations for the film: Best Art Direction, Best Costume Design, Best Music, and Best Writing, But it didn’t win.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The best films often slip under the radar of the Oscars, but hopefully, you will see with the wide range of nominations this film received, that many people considered it on par with these other better known films.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Give it a chance, I’m sure you’ll love it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>TWO MONTHS IN REVIEW: A LOOK BACK\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I am missing TV. I never thought I would say that. But I miss the television programs. My first love in entertainment is the movie, but something had to go in my life to make room for this experiment.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’m not even sure what’s on these days. I think there are new episodes of \u003cb>The Shield\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Nip/Tuck\u003c/b>. Possibly \u003cb>Rescue Me\u003c/b>. I haven’t watched \u003cb>Entourage\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Boston Legal\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Streetball\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Beyond The Glory\u003c/b>, \u003cb>The First 48\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Rollergirls\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Intervention\u003c/b>. \u003cb>The Adam Carolla Project\u003c/b> is over, so is \u003cb>Kathy Griffin’s My Life on the D-List\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The only shows I’ve been watching are \u003cb>Moral Orel\u003c/b> on Adult Swim and \u003cb>#1 Single\u003c/b>. \u003cb>Moral Orel\u003c/b> is a brilliantly sacrilegious ten-minute cartoon. \u003cb>#1 Single\u003c/b> is Lisa Loeb’s trashy and heartbreaking reality show that I am trying to admit that I love.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Next week, \u003cb>The Sopranos\u003c/b> starts its new season. There’s no way I’m not watching them. I’ve seen every episode twice, some episodes more than that. Saying I think it’s a good show is like saying Michael Jordan was a good basketball player. It’s a safe opinion I hate to throw around, but I’m not going to ignore it. I’ve watched only a handful of movies during this project that I would trade for that show.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>THE PACE\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I needed to get to 80 DVDs by the end of February to be on pace for 500 for the year. I’m not there, I was at 69 by the end of February. I have to play catch up. I have to somehow watch more than I am now. It’s possible mathematically, but troublesome in real life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’m going to Utah Tuesday night. I may get a few DVDs that day, but Wednesday through Sunday there will be nothing for me. I’m getting back Sunday night, just in time to miss the premiere of the Sopranos. No wonder that flight was so cheap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For March, I’m looking at the last 306 days of the year. To get back on pace, I have to get through 44 DVDs this month. I’m at 76 as of this typing, so I’m 37 away. I could totally do that if not for this darn Utah trip.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But the art scene of Salt Lake City has called me, and I must go. I haven’t been on a good vacation in a while, and I’m planning on having a good time next week.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "\u003cb>PICK OF THE WEEK: LADY SINGS THE BLUES\u003c/b>\u003cbr />I had a hard choice to make this week for The Pick. I saw a beautifully made comedy by Billy Wilder, \u003cb>The Fortune Cookie\u003c/b>. Then there was the unforgettable Edward James Olmos film \u003cb>American Me\u003c/b>, a brutal look at the rise of the Mexican Mafia. But in the end, I went with the film that moved me most, \u003cb>Lady Sings the Blues\u003c/b>.",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cb>PICK OF THE WEEK: LADY SINGS THE BLUES\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I had a hard choice to make this week for The Pick. I saw a beautifully made comedy by Billy Wilder, \u003cb>The Fortune Cookie\u003c/b>. Then there was the unforgettable Edward James Olmos film \u003cb>American Me\u003c/b>, a brutal look at the rise of the Mexican Mafia. But in the end, I went with the film that moved me most, \u003cb>Lady Sings the Blues\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Walk The Line\u003c/b> did well this year, and \u003cb>Ray \u003c/b>did well last year. The music biopic has become a standard vehicle for a studio to cash in at the box office and to gain Oscar interest. In 1972, the Oscar race was fierce, and \u003cb>Lady Sings the Blues\u003c/b> got the blunt end of the statue.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Diana Ross shone as Billie Holiday, coming up from humble beginnings and making her way to the top. There was a lot of focus on her heroin use, as it was her demise. I thought the formula was inappropriate for the movie \u003cb>Ray\u003c/b>, wherein Ray Charles’ heroin use is given equal or greater weight to his music. While Billie Holiday was cut down in the prime of life, Ray Charles kicked his habit and had many productive years throughout the rest of his long life. Ross sang her own songs, as do her contemporary counterparts, but few could give the performance she gave.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Billy Dee Williams, unfortunately only known to most people as Lando Carlrissian and the spokesperson for Colt 45 malt liquor, played the male lead in a follow up to the previous year’s \u003cb>Brian’s Song\u003c/b>, which may be the best made for TV film ever, and before his part in \u003cb>Bingo Long’s Travelling All-Stars and Motor Kings\u003c/b>, a rare look at the world of barnstorming baseball teams in the days of the segregated major leagues. Williams turns in these fine performances, then takes a role in \u003cb>The Empire Strikes Back\u003c/b>, but then his career takes a downturn to films like Snoop Dogg’s \u003cb>Hood of Horror\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Richard Pryor shows up in his first significant acting role. He was no stranger to the business, but as a serious actor, it was one of his only non-comic roles. He appeared in the \u003cb>Bingo Long\u003c/b> movie some years later, alongside Williams once more, in a comic relief role in a somewhat serious film. It’s impossible not to notice Pryor, and want more screen time from him, as he constantly stole attention.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But all of these actors suffered in a year that brought many good films from Hollywood. It was the year of \u003cb>The Godfather\u003c/b>, which garnered many nominations and Oscars. \u003cb>Cabaret \u003c/b>also showed up that year, and was more popular with the music lovers. \u003cb>Sounder \u003c/b>took the attention of the African American vote. Michael Caine and Laurence Olivier gathered the rare double Best Actor nods for the same movie, \u003cb>Sleuth\u003c/b>. There were also strong showings by \u003cb>Deliverance\u003c/b>, \u003cb>The Heartbreak Kid\u003c/b>, and \u003cb>The Poseidon Adventure\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>Lady Sings The Blues\u003c/b> won no awards at all. Diana Ross was nominated for Best Actress, but was beat by Liza Manelli for her role in \u003cb>Cabaret\u003c/b>. Pryor didn’t stand a chance to get nominated with James Caan, Robert Duvall, and Al Pacino all nominated for their roles in \u003cb>The Godfather\u003c/b>. There were other nominations for the film: Best Art Direction, Best Costume Design, Best Music, and Best Writing, But it didn’t win.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The best films often slip under the radar of the Oscars, but hopefully, you will see with the wide range of nominations this film received, that many people considered it on par with these other better known films.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Give it a chance, I’m sure you’ll love it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>TWO MONTHS IN REVIEW: A LOOK BACK\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I am missing TV. I never thought I would say that. But I miss the television programs. My first love in entertainment is the movie, but something had to go in my life to make room for this experiment.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’m not even sure what’s on these days. I think there are new episodes of \u003cb>The Shield\u003c/b> and \u003cb>Nip/Tuck\u003c/b>. Possibly \u003cb>Rescue Me\u003c/b>. I haven’t watched \u003cb>Entourage\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Boston Legal\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Streetball\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Beyond The Glory\u003c/b>, \u003cb>The First 48\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Rollergirls\u003c/b>, \u003cb>Intervention\u003c/b>. \u003cb>The Adam Carolla Project\u003c/b> is over, so is \u003cb>Kathy Griffin’s My Life on the D-List\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The only shows I’ve been watching are \u003cb>Moral Orel\u003c/b> on Adult Swim and \u003cb>#1 Single\u003c/b>. \u003cb>Moral Orel\u003c/b> is a brilliantly sacrilegious ten-minute cartoon. \u003cb>#1 Single\u003c/b> is Lisa Loeb’s trashy and heartbreaking reality show that I am trying to admit that I love.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Next week, \u003cb>The Sopranos\u003c/b> starts its new season. There’s no way I’m not watching them. I’ve seen every episode twice, some episodes more than that. Saying I think it’s a good show is like saying Michael Jordan was a good basketball player. It’s a safe opinion I hate to throw around, but I’m not going to ignore it. I’ve watched only a handful of movies during this project that I would trade for that show.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cb>THE PACE\u003c/b>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I needed to get to 80 DVDs by the end of February to be on pace for 500 for the year. I’m not there, I was at 69 by the end of February. I have to play catch up. I have to somehow watch more than I am now. It’s possible mathematically, but troublesome in real life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’m going to Utah Tuesday night. I may get a few DVDs that day, but Wednesday through Sunday there will be nothing for me. I’m getting back Sunday night, just in time to miss the premiere of the Sopranos. No wonder that flight was so cheap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For March, I’m looking at the last 306 days of the year. To get back on pace, I have to get through 44 DVDs this month. I’m at 76 as of this typing, so I’m 37 away. I could totally do that if not for this darn Utah trip.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But the art scene of Salt Lake City has called me, and I must go. I haven’t been on a good vacation in a while, and I’m planning on having a good time next week.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"headTitle": "Berlinale: Three Films | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>I already wrote a top ten of my most memorable Berlinale moments in the Guardian this week, so it would be unfair to do a repeat edition. In some ways attending a festival like the Berlinale isn’t simply about seeing films and picking favorites. The experience often went beyond individual film screenings to include the unique and unforgettable moments a festival of that size and stature affords. Watching an intimate chat with filmmaker, Michel Gondry about his latest film \u003cb>Science of Sleep\u003c/b> in a coffee shop the size of my living room. \u003cb>The Road to Guantanamo\u003c/b> press conference, face to face with two men who survived the US inflicted brutality. Interviewing Alan Berliner about his latest personal doc, \u003cb>Wide Awake\u003c/b>, while surrounded by the buzzing conversation of an international cast of filmmakers. And most engaging of all, being able to hear first hand, from the next generation of international filmmakers and have a dialogue with them about their films. Because of the way distribution works and the power of Hollywood, their films might never screen in a theater in the United States. And yet they represented some of the most unique, challenging and exciting work out there. So maybe beyond even individual moments, the Berlinale is a place to make discoveries.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Ok, so by now you may have read that \u003cb>Grbavica\u003c/b> by Jasmila Zbanic won the Golden Bear. I had no way of knowing the film was destined for glory when I fell in love with the bittersweet story about a mother and daughter. I missed the press screening and had a nagging intuition that I should see the film. Despite being unable to read German sub-titles and only managing to decipher a fraction of the Bosnian dialect, this beautifully acted and heartbreaking film about the legacy of war in Bosnia made an instant and lasting impression. The film struck a fine balance between personal and political, with out being melodramatic or didactic.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The lead actress Mirjana Karanovic, known for her roles in films by Emir Kusturica, plays Esma, a mother who lives with her 12-year-old daughter Sara (Luna Mijovic) in Sarajevo’s Grbavica district. Mirjana Karanovic wore the weight of the world on her face and in her body language. She was superb as a war survivor, attempting to make ends meet in a bleak post war economy, while being haunted by the war’s ugly, cruel and unrelenting legacy. The relationship between Esma and Sara is developed beautifully throughout the course of the film as the young girl begins drifting away from her mother and into the black hole of adolescence. The assurance of the directing is a testament to Jasmila’s talent. This was her first feature film. I had seen a couple of the Competition Films and felt strongly that \u003cb>Grbavic\u003c/b> should win an award. I can’t tell you how surprised I was to see director Jasmila Zbanic on the cover of a newspaper winning the Golden Bear.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Attending the screening of \u003cb>Conversations on a Sunday Afternoon\u003c/b> by South African director Khalo Matabane was one of those rare festival going experiences when you consider yourself lucky to be seeing a film that you probably wouldn’t get a chance to see anywhere else. What begins as a self-conscious video portrait of a poet in South Africa turns into a deeply moving exploration of displacement on a global scale and the eternal search for home in a world torn apart by endless wars.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Under the guise of searching for, Fatima, a Somali woman he meets at the park, the writer encounters and interviews numerous people on the street, all refugees who have made South Africa their home. Each has their individual story of escape because of war or persecution, and each has the desire to make a new life. But a new life, in a new place also comes with loneliness, cultural isolation, and a bitter longing for the place one considers home. As I watched the film I was struck by the honesty and emotional depth of the impromptu interviews. Only watching the end credits did I realize that the film might not be a documentary, but a narrative piece.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The wars and circumstances people referenced in their on camera interviews were all too real. Was the film a combination of fact and fiction? \u003cb>Conversations on a Sunday Afternoon\u003c/b> smoothly dissolves the demarcation line between fact and fiction, documentary and narrative. So many modern day docs pretend to represent the truth, while using the technique of character development and religiously following a narrative three act structure to tell their stories. \u003cb>Conversations on a Sunday Afternoon\u003c/b> suggests the ambiguity of the truth, the threadbare line between the documentary and narrative form, and the ability to fuse the two to make a powerful statement.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What is the fractured narrative of the \u003cb>The Prisoner\u003c/b> about? I still can’t tell you and I have been thinking about the film a lot. A group of young people, in Buenos Aires, move through their days, attending music classes, hooking up, hanging out, traveling through the city, which takes on the role of a character in the film. It’s impossible to tell who is coming and going, as they play out their minor dramas and daily existence unfolds. The film could be a political allegory, although now “free” and living in a “democratic”society, the individual character’s lives are still filled with uncertainty, there is no clear direction or focus. It could be a film about a younger generation of Argentian’s growing up in the looming shadow of an economic crisis. \u003cb>The Prisoner\u003c/b> is a deeply elusive and enigmatic film. I could have watched the characters and ambiguous situations for another hour, but I don’t know if I would get any closer to unraveling it’s meaning.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Biggest miss of the festival. Not seeing the screening of \u003cb>The Road to Guantanamo\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "I already wrote a top ten of my most memorable Berlinale moments in the Guardian this week, so it would be unfair to do a repeat edition. In some ways attending a festival like the Berlinale isn't simply about seeing films and picking favorites. The experience often went beyond individual film screenings to include the unique and unforgettable moments a festival of that size and stature affords. Watching an intimate chat with filmmaker, Michel Gondry about his latest film \u003cb>Science of Sleep\u003c/b> in a coffee shop the size of my living room. \u003cb>The Road to Guantanamo\u003c/b> press conference, face to face with two men who survived the US inflicted brutality. Interviewing Alan Berliner about his latest personal doc, \u003cb>Wide Awake\u003c/b>, while surrounded by the buzzing conversation of an international cast of filmmakers. And most engaging of all, being able to hear first hand, from the next generation of international filmmakers and have a dialogue with them about their films. Because of the way distribution works and the power of Hollywood, their films might never screen in a theater in the United States. And yet they represented some of the most unique, challenging and exciting work out there. So maybe beyond even individual moments, the Berlinale is a place to make discoveries.",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>I already wrote a top ten of my most memorable Berlinale moments in the Guardian this week, so it would be unfair to do a repeat edition. In some ways attending a festival like the Berlinale isn’t simply about seeing films and picking favorites. The experience often went beyond individual film screenings to include the unique and unforgettable moments a festival of that size and stature affords. Watching an intimate chat with filmmaker, Michel Gondry about his latest film \u003cb>Science of Sleep\u003c/b> in a coffee shop the size of my living room. \u003cb>The Road to Guantanamo\u003c/b> press conference, face to face with two men who survived the US inflicted brutality. Interviewing Alan Berliner about his latest personal doc, \u003cb>Wide Awake\u003c/b>, while surrounded by the buzzing conversation of an international cast of filmmakers. And most engaging of all, being able to hear first hand, from the next generation of international filmmakers and have a dialogue with them about their films. Because of the way distribution works and the power of Hollywood, their films might never screen in a theater in the United States. And yet they represented some of the most unique, challenging and exciting work out there. So maybe beyond even individual moments, the Berlinale is a place to make discoveries.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Ok, so by now you may have read that \u003cb>Grbavica\u003c/b> by Jasmila Zbanic won the Golden Bear. I had no way of knowing the film was destined for glory when I fell in love with the bittersweet story about a mother and daughter. I missed the press screening and had a nagging intuition that I should see the film. Despite being unable to read German sub-titles and only managing to decipher a fraction of the Bosnian dialect, this beautifully acted and heartbreaking film about the legacy of war in Bosnia made an instant and lasting impression. The film struck a fine balance between personal and political, with out being melodramatic or didactic.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The lead actress Mirjana Karanovic, known for her roles in films by Emir Kusturica, plays Esma, a mother who lives with her 12-year-old daughter Sara (Luna Mijovic) in Sarajevo’s Grbavica district. Mirjana Karanovic wore the weight of the world on her face and in her body language. She was superb as a war survivor, attempting to make ends meet in a bleak post war economy, while being haunted by the war’s ugly, cruel and unrelenting legacy. The relationship between Esma and Sara is developed beautifully throughout the course of the film as the young girl begins drifting away from her mother and into the black hole of adolescence. The assurance of the directing is a testament to Jasmila’s talent. This was her first feature film. I had seen a couple of the Competition Films and felt strongly that \u003cb>Grbavic\u003c/b> should win an award. I can’t tell you how surprised I was to see director Jasmila Zbanic on the cover of a newspaper winning the Golden Bear.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Attending the screening of \u003cb>Conversations on a Sunday Afternoon\u003c/b> by South African director Khalo Matabane was one of those rare festival going experiences when you consider yourself lucky to be seeing a film that you probably wouldn’t get a chance to see anywhere else. What begins as a self-conscious video portrait of a poet in South Africa turns into a deeply moving exploration of displacement on a global scale and the eternal search for home in a world torn apart by endless wars.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Under the guise of searching for, Fatima, a Somali woman he meets at the park, the writer encounters and interviews numerous people on the street, all refugees who have made South Africa their home. Each has their individual story of escape because of war or persecution, and each has the desire to make a new life. But a new life, in a new place also comes with loneliness, cultural isolation, and a bitter longing for the place one considers home. As I watched the film I was struck by the honesty and emotional depth of the impromptu interviews. Only watching the end credits did I realize that the film might not be a documentary, but a narrative piece.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The wars and circumstances people referenced in their on camera interviews were all too real. Was the film a combination of fact and fiction? \u003cb>Conversations on a Sunday Afternoon\u003c/b> smoothly dissolves the demarcation line between fact and fiction, documentary and narrative. So many modern day docs pretend to represent the truth, while using the technique of character development and religiously following a narrative three act structure to tell their stories. \u003cb>Conversations on a Sunday Afternoon\u003c/b> suggests the ambiguity of the truth, the threadbare line between the documentary and narrative form, and the ability to fuse the two to make a powerful statement.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What is the fractured narrative of the \u003cb>The Prisoner\u003c/b> about? I still can’t tell you and I have been thinking about the film a lot. A group of young people, in Buenos Aires, move through their days, attending music classes, hooking up, hanging out, traveling through the city, which takes on the role of a character in the film. It’s impossible to tell who is coming and going, as they play out their minor dramas and daily existence unfolds. The film could be a political allegory, although now “free” and living in a “democratic”society, the individual character’s lives are still filled with uncertainty, there is no clear direction or focus. It could be a film about a younger generation of Argentian’s growing up in the looming shadow of an economic crisis. \u003cb>The Prisoner\u003c/b> is a deeply elusive and enigmatic film. I could have watched the characters and ambiguous situations for another hour, but I don’t know if I would get any closer to unraveling it’s meaning.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Biggest miss of the festival. Not seeing the screening of \u003cb>The Road to Guantanamo\u003c/b>.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"info": "The Political Mind of Jerry Brown brings listeners the wisdom of the former Governor, Mayor, and presidential candidate. Scott Shafer interviewed Brown for more than 40 hours, covering the former governor's life and half-century in the political game – and Brown has some lessons he'd like to share. ",
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"info": "The MindShift podcast explores the innovations in education that are shaping how kids learn. Hosts Ki Sung and Katrina Schwartz introduce listeners to educators, researchers, parents and students who are developing effective ways to improve how kids learn. We cover topics like how fed-up administrators are developing surprising tactics to deal with classroom disruptions; how listening to podcasts are helping kids develop reading skills; the consequences of overparenting; and why interdisciplinary learning can engage students on all ends of the traditional achievement spectrum. This podcast is part of the MindShift education site, a division of KQED News. KQED is an NPR/PBS member station based in San Francisco. You can also visit the MindShift website for episodes and supplemental blog posts or tweet us \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/MindShiftKQED\">@MindShiftKQED\u003c/a> or visit us at \u003ca href=\"/mindshift\">MindShift.KQED.org\u003c/a>",
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"info": "For decades, the process for how police police themselves has been inconsistent – if not opaque. In some states, like California, these proceedings were completely hidden. After a new police transparency law unsealed scores of internal affairs files, our reporters set out to examine these cases and the shadow world of police discipline. On Our Watch brings listeners into the rooms where officers are questioned and witnesses are interrogated to find out who this system is really protecting. Is it the officers, or the public they've sworn to serve?",
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"info": "Political Breakdown is a new series that explores the political intersection of California and the nation. Each week hosts Scott Shafer and Marisa Lagos are joined with a new special guest to unpack politics -- with personality — and offer an insider’s glimpse at how politics happens.",
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"possible": {
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"title": "Possible",
"info": "Possible is hosted by entrepreneur Reid Hoffman and writer Aria Finger. Together in Possible, Hoffman and Finger lead enlightening discussions about building a brighter collective future. The show features interviews with visionary guests like Trevor Noah, Sam Altman and Janette Sadik-Khan. Possible paints an optimistic portrait of the world we can create through science, policy, business, art and our shared humanity. It asks: What if everything goes right for once? How can we get there? Each episode also includes a short fiction story generated by advanced AI GPT-4, serving as a thought-provoking springboard to speculate how humanity could leverage technology for good.",
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"radiolab": {
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},
"rightnowish": {
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"tagline": "Art is where you find it",
"info": "Rightnowish digs into life in the Bay Area right now… ish. Journalist Pendarvis Harshaw takes us to galleries painted on the sides of liquor stores in West Oakland. We'll dance in warehouses in the Bayview, make smoothies with kids in South Berkeley, and listen to classical music in a 1984 Cutlass Supreme in Richmond. Every week, Pen talks to movers and shakers about how the Bay Area shapes what they create, and how they shape the place we call home.",
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"tagline": "Real stories with killer beats",
"info": "The Snap Judgment radio show and podcast mixes real stories with killer beats to produce cinematic, dramatic radio. Snap's musical brand of storytelling dares listeners to see the world through the eyes of another. This is storytelling... with a BEAT!! Snap first aired on public radio stations nationwide in July 2010. Today, Snap Judgment airs on over 450 public radio stations and is brought to the airwaves by KQED & PRX.",
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"soldout": {
"id": "soldout",
"title": "SOLD OUT: Rethinking Housing in America",
"tagline": "A new future for housing",
"info": "Sold Out: Rethinking Housing in America",
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