See PEEPLES Now, Or Forever Hold Your Think-Piece!

  

Much as I’d like to keep this apolitical and just talk about the movie, the way it deserves, I don’t think I can resist it this time.  Here is a statement I’m going to underline:  I paid to see PEEPLES opening weekend.  I am lucky to have a lot of chances to see movies for free, and quite frankly I need to take those chances whenever I can, because I don’t get paid much from writing yet, and my time-consuming day job pays me a barely-survivable wage.  To say I don’t have a lot of money (or time) right now is an understatement.  But I paid to see PEEPLES.

The main reason I did that is because I really love the main trio of lead actors, Kerry Washington, Craig Robinson, and David Alan Grier. They are actors who constantly make every scene they’re in a scene worth watching. In my opinion, Kerry Washington is an uncommonly passionate screen actor, with an unfakeable decency, whereas Robinson and Grier are two of the most consistent scene-dominators in all of comedy. These are guys who have shared screens with some of the most famous comedians in modern history and have stood out against them every single time. I would watch almost anything any of these three were in, and the three of them together is an irresistible prospect to me personally.  Happily, that instinct paid off for me, and their movie brightened up a gloomy, drizzly Saturday morning.

Craig Robinson, who you probably know from NBC’s The Office or PINEAPPLE EXPRESS, plays Wade Walker, a musician who plays very Craig-Robinson-style songs to school-children as a way to give them life advice.  He doesn’t make a lot of money but for the past year he has been dating a woman who does, glamorous lawyer Grace Peeples — Kerry Washington, most recently from ABC’s Scandal and DJANGO UNCHAINED.  Maybe you’re the type who’d look at the two of them and see a mismatch, but they have a sweet, eminently believable relationship in the opening scenes.  I’m not a romantic comedy kind of guy, but that’s not really because of my love of Clint Eastwood Westerns, monster movies, and ninja flicks.  It’s because most modern romantic comedies feature lead actors who go with their worst instincts and writers who can’t write relatable dialogue or scenarios.  I find either one, or both, of the romantic leads in most of these movies to be people in whose company I don’t want to spend an entire movie.

PEEPLES eradicates that reservation quite simply, with the power of good casting.  Every single actor in PEEPLES comes off well, even when they’re disagreeing with each other within the story.

Grace comes from a high-achieving family.  Her father Virgil (David Alan Grier) is a prominent judge.  Her mother Daphne (S. Epatha Merkerson) released a successful R&B album in the 1970s.  Her sister Gloria (Kali Hawk) is an on-camera newswoman.  Her little brother Simon (Tyler James Williams) is a brilliant inventor and an aspiring musician himself.  Her grandmother is Diahann Carroll and her grandfather is Melvin Van Peebles!

Wade has heard a whole lot about “The Chocolate Kennedys”, as he calls them, but he hasn’t met them yet, in a whole year of dating Grace.  This is weighing on his mind because he wants to marry Grace.  (Who wouldn’t?)  He has a romantic weekend planned, where he hopes to give her his grandmother’s ring, but she tells him she has to head home to Sag Harbor to celebrate her father’s beloved Moby Dick weekend.  (Yes, David Alan Grier dresses up like Ahab and reads from Moby Dick, yet another reason for me to feel warmly about this movie.)  When Grace heads off without him, Wade decides to crash the celebration and shows up uninvited, which immediately earns him Virgil’s disapproval, especially since Grace has never once mentioned Wade to them!

The rest of the film is a series of comic shenanigans and hijinks, as Wade struggles to endear himself to Virgil and continues to make things worse.  All of the main characters have secrets:  Wade is hiding his intentions, Grace is hiding her relationship and most of her history, Gloria is hiding the fact that she’s in a committed relationship with a woman (Kimrie Lewis-Davis), Simon is hiding his kleptomania, Daphne is hiding some recreational habits, and even Virgil is hiding… well, you’ll have to see.

This is Tina Gordon Chism’s first movie as both writer and director.  (She previously wrote the screenplays to ATL and DRUMLINE.)  If I had to be critical, I’d say her facility for staging scenes of farce is promising but not fully formed — some of the gags are hilarious, others could be more sharply carried off.  And to be honest, this is more of a showcase for Craig Robinson than for Kerry Washington, who gets less screentime and slightly less comprehensible motives.  But what quibbles I could come up with are overshadowed by my appreciation of this movie’s warmth and affable watchability.  That comes from a script which treats every character as a full human being, and direction that encourages every last actor to shine.  There are no villains here.  Every character is his or her only real enemy, but all of them have the ability to improve, and we get to see most of them do so before the movie’s done.  It doesn’t feel forced or unearned. That’s an increasingly rare experience at the movies. I laughed out loud several times throughout the running time, uncommon for me, and that happened because I enjoyed the characters and the performances.

Right this moment, PEEPLES is flopping at the box office.  That’s why I need to write this piece.  It’s not a perfect movie, but it does not deserve to flop.  It’s a generous movie about likable characters any audience would be happy to know.  For PEEPLES to flop, that means two things are happening:  People who like Tyler Perry are avoiding it, and people who don’t like Tyler Perry are avoiding it.  If you don’t like Tyler Perry, you are seeing his name on the poster and staying away.  Guess what?  I don’t much like Tyler Perry.  I’m the guy who wrote this, after all.

But Tyler Perry didn’t write or direct PEEPLES – Tina Gordon Chism did – and he sure doesn’t appear during it — an amazingly talented ensemble cast does — and very genuinely, I give Tyler Perry a ton of credit for trying to get this movie out in front of people.  To Tyler Perry’s diehard audience, I give no credit at all, since they have demonstrated with their dollar that they prefer exaggerated caricatures over believable characters and judgmental homilies over the loving themes of acceptance and honesty that PEEPLES encourages.

To me, those are themes worth supporting with my hard-won cash.  To me, it is worth supporting with my cash a film that gives Craig Robinson a long-deserved leading role.  (Judd Apatow didn’t give me that!)  To me, it is worth supporting with my cash a movie that maybe doesn’t represent my face specifically, but does represent faces resembling people in my life, dear friends of mine: teenage characters that aren’t sex-crazed morons, gay characters who aren’t mincing stereotypes, black characters who act like witty, successful, loving human beings rather than total fools.  To me, it is worth supporting with my cash the very rare case of a woman, and a black woman no less, writing and directing a feature comedy, especially a comedy that promises a career full of more to come, if only she gets another chance.

See, this is where I have to get political.  In the age of Facebook and Twitter, in the age where everyone has a blog or writes for one, in an age where we get to see and hear everyone’s opinions twenty-four-hours a freaking day, I’m not seeing a lot of put-up-or-shut-up.  In the last day alone, this Jezebel article excoriating misogyny in comedy has been in front of my eyes about a hundred times.  I happen to generally agree with what is being said in that article, and in most of the articles like it.  I’m not sure all of them apply to me specifically, but that’s not for me to decide.  I tend to think that a man who is willing to read an entire article like that in the first place is one who is friendly to the cause and interested in ways he can change if need be.  I love movies and I am trying hard to be a good person and I believe sometimes that means putting my money where my mouth is.  That last part is an important distinction, I think.

Maybe I’m overstepping a bit by suggesting it, but I’m going to do it anyway:  If you are so committed to the principle of furthering women’s roles in comedy, then will you not get out of the house and vote with your own dollar?  Will you not go pay for a movie written and directed by a woman?  Especially because I, someone who normally loves “guy’s” movies and who normally does not love movies with Tyler Perry’s name on them, is insisting that it’s a movie worth your time?  Maybe my opinion doesn’t, won’t, shouldn’t matter.  It’s true: I’m a very heterosexual male and my skin is pretty pale.   But still, the fact that a woman broke through and managed to get a comedy made and nobody’s going to see it is something that doesn’t feel right to me.  I want to do what I can about it.  Here’s one indisputable truth, feminists and fellow feminism-friendly men:  It’s not your blogs or your re-Tweets that are going to encourage studios to make this kind of movie.  It’s your hard-earned dollars.

@jonnyabomb

From The Archives: BILL HICKS, SANE MAN (1989).

If one were to step back and truly consider the unceasing patchwork of entertainment news clobbering our eyes, ears and minds twenty-four-hours-a-day, it would serve as a disturbing reminder of how little has changed since Bill Hicks prowled comedy stages, serving as a lonely voice of sanity out amongst the wilderness of institutionalized idiocy.

I’ve written about Bill Hicks once before. I was impressed by David Letterman’s 2009 tribute to Hicks, where he brought on Bill’s mother and personally apologized to her for the infamous incident where Hicks was kept off The Late Show due to Hicks’s propensity for inflammatory material. I thought it was a classy move on Letterman’s part – if belated, since Hicks died in 1994 of pancreatic cancer. I then went on to describe why I believe that Hicks’ brand of inflammatory material would have been necessary to broadcast, as it still is, because I think Hicks’ perspective, and those like his, demand to be heard.

Television, today more than ever, is absolutely flooded with mediocrity and moronity. Since television is only ever a reflection of what the American people are most concerned with at the time, that is a disturbing statement. It’s not a crime to enjoy turn-your-brain-off entertainment – but it IS a crime when the balances are off so badly. Mediocrity is rewarded and morons are everywhere, and even though we’re in the future, nothing’s changed. Some of the same exact same morons are still prominent, in fact!

It’s almost eerie that so many of Bill Hicks’ favorite targets back in the late 1980s and early 1980s are either still lingering, or have made their moronic return. The Bush family and the Iraq War are in sequels. Billy Ray Cyrus has returned with an even more ridiculous haircut, in a new role as world’s creepiest stage dad, pimping out his daughter to the world. The most recent Doritos ad, which was a huge hit at the SuperBowl, was the most-watched ad of all time. The New Kids On The Block are back on tour, clearly not recognizing the obvious irony in their name (or the obvious double-entendre in the name of their tour). And creepy Jay Leno and his gargantuan head are still clogging up the late-night comedy world, an unkillable milquetoast cockroach with a face the size of a parade float and a frame of reference the size of a peanut.

Watching the Bill Hicks concert film Sane Man, I was filled with growing irritation.

That’s not true. Watching Sane Man, I was laughing constantly.

It’s only afterward that the irritation struck, when I realized that all of the aforementioned morons are happily moving into advanced age with ever-thickening wallets, while Bill Hicks was struck down in his prime by an insidious disease. So many people have nothing useful or interesting to say; meanwhile, Bill Hicks was only getting started on expanding our brains and enlightening our perspectives. It’s just plain not fair.

But no one wise ever said the universe was fair. All we can do is keep Hicks’ work fresh in our memory, and luckily, there’s plenty of it available.

Sane Man is a concert film from 1989. It’s basically a rudimentary VHS recording of a typical Hicks performance, live, in front of a typical nightclub audience (with some amazing mullets), for a truly impressive length of time. I generally listen to Hicks’ CDs on repeat, so what struck me about watching him on screen for nearly two hours straight was his amazing confidence in front of a crowd. Hicks owned that stage. He clearly had absolute conviction that his words were worth hearing. (If he felt any personal reservations, it sure didn’t show.) His words were worth hearing, as always, but it’s nice to see that he seemed to know that too. If you like neurotic comedians, this ain’t your guy.

Sane Man probably isn’t my favorite Bill Hicks performance I’ve ever seen – for one thing the dated video elements and imperfect recording make it tiring to watch after a while. Also, a lot of the material Hicks performs here will be very familiar to diehard fans — a lot of it appeared in slightly different form on his albums – although it is a treat to see him act out his Jimi Hendrix routine. And this isn’t one for mixed company – Hicks gets particularly vulgar at a couple moments (understandable considering the fact that he’s playing to a drunken audience.) Personally, I never get tired of hearing any of Hicks’ bits and I’m not offended by his bluer material, so predictably, I loved Sane Man. I just wouldn’t recommend it as someone’s first exposure to Hicks’ brilliance. Start with any of the albums instead – they’re all still in print and available in most any music store that has a comedy section. Look for them (and more information) at the official website.

What I love about Bill Hicks is that, while his anger and disappointment were palpable, it was always clear that he was an optimist at heart. He wasn’t bitter about how things were; he just wanted things to be better. Bill Hicks left this earth too soon, but he left plenty of peerless comedy and immortal inspiration behind. He is as alive as ever, on his albums and videos.

Hear them.

And if you want to read more about Bill Hicks, I recommend tracking down Cynthia True’s terrific biography, American Scream, or this collection of Bill’s writings.

From June 23rd, 2010.

@jonnyabomb

Resolution.

Welcome to 2013! According to Stanley Kubrick we’re twelve years past the future. We could’ve all been in space by now. The only thing stopping us is us. Although maybe we’d better start small, with the simpler questions. Are you keeping any of your resolutions so far?

“Resolution” is a good word. It’s got a few different meanings. At the start of the year — although less so by the day, it being January 17th already — resolution indicates a kind of fortified resolve, as in: These are the aspects of living which I insist on doing differently or better in the new year.

Resolution can mean determination: If you’re resolved, you’re certain of something. If a situation is resolved, that means it’s been settled. In political terms, a resolution is an official statement put into action. And in reference to images, such as on televisions or computer screens, resolution means clarity.

Sometimes clarity can be found by watching people you respect, and listening to what they have to say. This happened to me recently while reading the Vanity Fair Comedy Issue, where the great comedian Louis CK was interviewed.

  

For some random cosmic reason, or maybe just out of pure coincidence, I’ve been aware of Louis CK for years and have periodically lucked into vantage points to observe the arc of his career. My best comedy-expert buddy introduced me to Louis’ short films over a decade ago, the films he made around the time he was working behind the scenes writing for Conan O’Brien and Chris Rock.

When I first moved to LA, in 2001, I ended up at a screening on the Paramount lot of POOTIE TANG, the feature film Louis directed. It was an obviously-unfinished workprint and it’s safe to say that the crowd I was with didn’t get it. It must suck for filmmakers to sit through preview screenings, but it sucks only a little less to have to sit and listen to the dumb comments of humorless audience members. The movie has since gained a cult following but it can’t have been an easy experience at the time.

Around that time, maybe 2002, I befriended a guy who hosted a comedy night at a bar in Santa Monica. I went several times, during which time I decided beyond a doubt that stand-up comedians are to be respected. That’s a hard job. I got to watch plenty of them up close through those comedy nights. One of them was Louis CK! This was the first time I got to see his brilliant “Why?” routine. I have rarely laughed so hard.

The next time I saw the “Why?” routine, it was in 2006, as the opening scene of Louis’ HBO series Lucky Louie. This show was fucking great but it only lasted one season.

Thanks to that same comedy-connoisseur friend, I have seen Louis do stand-up live several times over the years. In the last few, those tickets have become harder and harder to get as his popularity has exploded. You’ve all seen his FX series, right? It’s wonderful, a true victory for individualism and uncompromised comic vision. The most recent time I saw Louis do stand-up, it was a week before he hosted Saturday Night Live on November 3rd. Once again, I was among the privileged who got to see a routine or two earlier, in the working stages. His SNL monologue was an abbreviated variation of the material he did at that show a week before (both versions were hysterical).

The point I’m trying to express is the admiration I have for such a hardworking and thoughtful artist. It’s humbling. And it’s instructive.

All of which brings me back to that Vanity Fair interview. It’s their Proust Questionnaire, an exercise meant to reveal the personality of its subjects. The following is one of the questions, and Louis’ response:

______________________________________

Which talent would you most like to have?
I wish I could draw. I can’t make a thing in my mind go on paper. I draw like a child. Like a heavily beaten and molested child. Who can’t draw.

______________________________________

As a creative person who has struggled to find his way, reading something like that is incredibly illuminating. Louis CK can’t draw. Someone of so many obvious talents, who I respect so much — even he has limits that bother him. And I’m sitting here, lucky once again. I can draw! I can’t get up on stage and change the world with uncommonly perceptive and bluntly eloquent comedy like he can, but I can draw.

Believe me, that’s not ego inflation. I’m not comparing myself to anyone, or suggesting I have anything coming to me, or anything like that. This is about the inspiration I get from others, and about using it for self-motivation. There are plenty of wonderful artists who can draw far more beautifully than I ever will. But still, I can draw. I have talents that other people wish they could have, even some of the most famous and successful creative people in the world. I should appreciate that more. I should utilize that more.

So that’s my resolution, and my clarity. To use my talents, all of them. To find what I can do that other people can’t, to find what I can bring to the world that the world might need or want. I happen to believe that my writing and my personal perspective are among those virtues. My drawing ability is another.

What’s yours? Let’s all figure it out and get to work in 2013!

@jonnyabomb

Why I Am Voting For Barack Obama.

I hope everyone will soon understand that I am writing the following out of love. There’s been plenty of anger shouted in capital letters in political conversation for many months, and there are many people who enjoy doing that more than I do. I’m going to go with plain old sincerity.

I wanted to contribute my complete political position just this once, because even though I tend to believe that one’s politics and spirituality are two things best kept private, I feel that mine is a rarely-voiced point of view worth finally making fully public. I don’t expect to change anyone’s mind overnight, or ever, really, but I have to believe these are thoughts worth spreading.

I would like my friends who agree with me — and especially those who disagree with me — to understand why I support Barack Obama’s presidency. I’m not trying to start a fight. I just want the good people – and many of you are very good people – who are about to vote against Barack Obama to know what is on the line for me specifically.

I have always cherished the fact that I cultivate friendships across political, social, and spiritual lines, and I never want that to change. But to me, this election is particularly important. I mean it’s personally important. And before you vote tomorrow, I just want you to know why.

The following bullet points are five major reasons why I support Barack Obama over Mitt Romney. They’re not in order but if you are pressed for time, please skip down to the fifth one.

1. Under the Obama administration, American soldiers were brought home from Iraq.

I hope my Republican friends understand that they are not the only ones who admire, support, and revere our troops. I’m right there with you. My favorite uncle fought in World War II. He wasn’t drafted. He chose to go. He wanted to fight the Nazis, and he did. I have several other family members and close family friends who have served. This makes me immeasurably proud, and it makes me proud of everyone brave enough to fight for our country.

This is exactly why I do not want any American soldiers in harm’s way if it isn’t absolutely necessary. After 9/11, I supported the idea of going into Afghanistan. I understood why it was necessary. However, the military presence sent into Iraq was not necessary. History has already proven this to be a fact. The Bush administration made a mistake, at best. Regardless of how they got there, I wanted to see our soldiers brought home from Iraq, and that has happened under Barack Obama. I want a President who is considerate and cautious about the monumental decision of putting American soldiers’ lives in danger, which Barack Obama has proven to be.

2. Under the Obama administration, Osama Bin Laden was found and killed.

For eight years, the Bush administration told us that we weren’t safe, not so long as the Al-Qaeda leader who orchestrated the 9/11 attacks was around. You know what? On this matter I absolutely agreed with them.

I remember the morning of 9/11. My father and my sister were driving directly towards the radius of the attack at the time. It’s only a chance of fate that they were running late to work that morning. They watched the planes fly into the towers. They watched the towers go down. I still can’t imagine what kind of effect that sight has had on them. I don’t pretend to. I was in California at the time, watching it on television 3000 miles away and having to wonder for several awful moments whether my father and my sister were anywhere nearby the site of impact.

So don’t ever misunderstand me as so much of a bleeding-heart liberal that I can’t rejoice in the eradication of the man responsible for such an evil act. I’m glad Osama Bin Laden is gone. Now, George Bush promised me that for eight years. He didn’t deliver it. Barack Obama did. And if you doubt that Obama deserves any credit for the raid, and you want to know how it went down, read the meticulously-researched article in Vanity Fair by Mark Bowden, the man who wrote Black Hawk Down and Killing Pablo.

To me, the Osama Bin Laden mission alone should be a slam-dunk to earn Barack Obama another four years – especially because George Bush had eight, and he didn’t get the job done – but if you still need more reasons, read on.

3. Barack Obama supports same-sex marriage.

There’s more work to be done on this issue, to be sure. Things won’t be right in this country until we abandon our long history of discrimination and finally achieve legislative equality for all Americans. On a personal note, my gay friends and acquaintances are vibrant, wonderful, loving people, and I see no reason on Earth or beyond it why they shouldn’t have the exact same rights as anyone else. It’s a civil rights issue at this point. It’s just plain right. I’m not going to keep going on this one because I promised I wouldn’t pick a fight, and I’m fully prepared to pin anyone to the mat on this argument.

4. Barack Obama supports a woman’s right to choose. If elected, Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan plan to reverse Roe Vs. Wade.

In my eyes, a man has no business telling a woman what to do with her own body. He certainly has no business arguing for legislation that would govern a woman’s body. Bottom line. End of story. Guys, would you want anyone weighing in on whether you should get a vasectomy? Or an adult circumcision, for that matter, to those to whom that might apply?

More importantly: Ladies – and I’m talking to the ladies out there voting Republican – how can you possibly reconcile this way of thinking? I’m genuinely curious. Let’s not even get into the equal-wage conversation. I’m talking about the sanctity of your very person. Any woman who votes for Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan is by definition voting against her own interests. If you disagree with that statement, you sure as hell better be a woman. I’ll listen to you then. I have so many wonderful, strong, dynamic women in my life that it offends me any time some politician short-changes or insults them in any way. On the matter of women’s rights, Barack Obama strikes me as uncommonly thoughtful.

5. This final one is maybe the biggest reason of all:

Obamacare would dramatically improve my quality of life.

In fact, as far as I can see, there is no one (besides the absurdly wealthy and those who own health insurance companies) who would NOT benefit from Obamacare, and it mystifies me why so many otherwise rational people don’t see that, but all of that aside:

Obamacare stands to change my life for the better. Me. Your friend. Jon Abrams. Jonathan, Jonny A, whatever you call me. My life is directly affected by this election. I don’t talk about this – EVER – but I’m doing it here and now because that’s how important it is to me. Here it is: I have struggled all my adult life with a difficult and painful health condition. It has made my life a secret hell for years. It started right after high school and has plagued me ever since. For a long time, I didn’t even know what I had. I saw a string of bad doctors and specialists who misdiagnosed me several times over. Their attempts to treat me were inadequate, sometimes traumatic, and always embarrassing. Remember that this is all happening to a guy who’s not exactly starting out with the world’s highest self-esteem. It has been devastating. It has cast a shadow over everything in my life – my ambitions, my state of mind, my personal life. Most people take intimacy for granted. For me it is a secret shame, a reasonable fear, an irrational fear, a discomfort, a source of rarely-abated isolation. You might not ever know it, to look at me. My few loved ones who I have confided in, up to this point, have universally reacted with the words, “That explains EVERYTHING.” But it’s not a thing I’ve ever been much willing to talk about, and that’s the insidious nature of some diseases — the mental can be as much of a hurdle as the physical.

But make no mistake: The physical is an issue. Most of the time you see me, I am in pain. Usually it’s minor discomfort, but there are times when it’s excruciating. I am fully aware that things will only get harder as I get older. You’d better believe that affects my daily mood and emotional outlook.

The good news: I am finally at a point where I have found the proper diagnosis, doctors who can help me, and an effective treatment that has put me far closer than ever before to remission. But THAT COMES AT A COST. I have been on all sorts of insurance plans throughout this experience and none of them are willing to consider pre-existing conditions to be coverable in any significant way. The treatments are expensive. The doctor visits are expensive. The medications are expensive. The COMMUTE is expensive. This is in addition to all the normal bills that all of us have – phone bills, credit card payments, auto insurance, car maintenance, transportation, food – it’s ravaged my own finances, and those of my family. And I know that there I’m one of the lucky ones – I have a family who loves me enough to help me out whenever they can.

The bottom line is that Obamacare promises affordable health insurance for people like me. Obamacare won’t discriminate against us just because we have a pre-existing condition. If you’ve met me, you know I’m not some lazy jerk who just wants to sit on my ass collecting benefits. I work hard. I’m willing to work hard. I have worked hard at every job I’ve ever gotten. I don’t appreciate Mitt Romney suggesting otherwise. My condition might slow me down sometimes and it has certainly affected my state of mind, but I’m still willing, ready, and able to do my share. I always have.

Despite what the current insurance industry seems to believe, I should not be punished for my condition. I was born this way. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t think I would wish it on my worst enemy. I sure wouldn’t want any of my friends to go through what I have. We’ve all got problems, sure, but not all of us have bodies that rebel against us on a daily basis. There are people that have it plenty worse than me, and the idea of that kills me. We should all care about each other and do what we can to help each other. That’s what defines good people, isn’t it?

I’m not writing this for sympathy. I’m writing this with purpose. Here’s what I believe: I’m not even close to being done doing the good work I was put on this planet to do, and I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a little relief from my mountain of medical bills. Does anybody truly think our health care system isn’t in need of reform? What issue could possibly be any more important to our lives than our physical health?

President Obama has presented a reasonable solution which he has shown every indication of making good on. Mitt Romney has not. And believe it or not, I’ve been listening very closely. If I thought at this point that Mitt Romney was determined to help decent people who are in a tough place who just want to get out from under and go be great, I’d vote for him. But it doesn’t look that way. Like his supporters say, he’s a businessman. Businessmen aren’t the ones who care about people who aren’t doing as well as they are. “Community organizers”, that much- and unfairly-derided group, do. I feel strongly that Barack Obama makes more thoughtful promises, and that he already has a track record of keeping them.

If you have read all of the above and you feel you have better reasons than me to vote for your candidate, then please go ahead. That’s the democratic system that makes our country great. But too many people cling to party allegiances without keeping an open mind. Please don’t blindly vote for the uniform. Be sure you’re voting for the man.

I’ve given what I obviously believe to be strong and important reasons why I will be voting for Barack Obama. Is Barack Obama a perfect candidate? No. Does he deserve four more years to work to get closer to perfect? I believe he does. Is he a stronger, more consistent, and more constructive candidate than Mitt Romney? Absolutely. Again, I’m not trying to pick a fight here. I want what’s best for my country, and yes, I want what’s best for me, so that I can fulfill my destiny and be my best use to the world.

If you’ve ever cared even a little about me or anything I’ve said or written, please do me the favor of reflecting on my words for just a moment. Then go ahead and vote. This one matters.

A Sincere Request In The Wake Of The Aurora Tragedy.

 

I’m a New Yorker, so this wasn’t the first time I’ve woken up to terrible, tragic, unimaginable news.  But the story coming out of Aurora, Colorado this morning is particularly upsetting, having the twin effect of being horrible and painful on its own, and for also being a sad echo of a story we all hoped we were done with: the non-terror-related murder-spree on American soil.  It happened last year in Arizona.  It happened twelve years ago in Colorado.  It’s happened before.  One time would be too many.

There will be countless over-intellectualized think-pieces everywhere you look in the weeks to come, but I wanted to get my thoughts out in front as quickly as possible because mine is a perspective I don’t often see represented anywhere in the mass media.  Unfortunately, this type of awful occurrence is too conveniently mischaracterized by those who either knowingly or unwittingly misspeak in their rush to vent their opinions.

A preface:  This being an election year, it’s probably hopeless to ask that this incident not be politicized – innocent citizens dying at the hands of a gunman invariably bring up the gun control argument, and there are certain factions on a certain side of the political sphere that rant ferociously and unceasingly at the faintest suggestions of reasonable limitations on their lethal weaponry.  Likewise, it’s impossible to expect that the film industry in general and The Dark Knight Rises won’t get some smear on them from this situation – it’s not fair, and it’s almost always factually inaccurate, but it’s an easy argument to make, and loud dumb people love easy arguments.

But I have two requests of anyone who reads these words, and regardless of your political orientation I would hope that you please consider them.  This is about common sense and decency, not partisanship or opportunism.

1)    Let’s not make this guy famous.

In Dave Cullen’s meticulously-researched and highly-educational book Columbine, the fact becomes clear that the two school shooters in that situation did what they did because they wanted to leave their mark.  If you don’t have skills or talent or morality, murder is the most shocking way to make a name for yourself.  It’s a subtle victory of the aftermath of the Columbine shooting that that pair of killers aren’t household names.  It’s a sad side-effect of many other horrific crimes that some killers and would-be assassins do have a place in the history books.  Note that the shooter in Aurora didn’t turn his gun on himself, as so many do.  He didn’t kill himself.  It’s been reported that he wore a bulletproof vest, in fact.  It’s possible then that his motive is similar.  Maybe he wants to revel in his actions.  Maybe he wants to see all the news reports about himself.

What more coldly effective way to achieve immediate notoriety than to shoot up a theater showing a movie that is likely to be one of the biggest box-office successes in recent history?  But then:  What better way to deny him the notoriety he may crave than to keep his name out of any reporting on the story?  Now, I know this isn’t a realistic hope – American news reporting is based on a need-to-know-everything principle that generally does prove to be a valuable approach.  But if we must know this criminal’s name, let’s do as little as possible to remember it.  Let’s not read any more than we need to.  Let’s not watch the inevitable true-crime re-enactments and the (shudder-to-think) jailhouse interviews.  Don’t buy that book.  Don’t add to the ratings of that TV special.  Don’t watch the 24-hour news channels that will throw that name around so many times it can’t help but be made famous.

2)   Please do not take this occasion to slander the mentally ill.

This plea is of the most absolute importance.

It’s common vernacular to dismiss the perpetrators in these shootings as “sick”, “madmen,” “lunatics” or “crazies.”  Here in New York City, we have that old generic bugaboo of the unmedicated mental patient who pushes some unsuspecting young commuter in front of an approaching subway train.  Now it is true that there are segments of the mentally ill population who are violent.  A very small percentage of mentally ill people have histories or (more often) isolated incidents of lashing out.

But that’s exactly why this particular person isn’t “crazy.”

The shooting last night in Aurora was pre-meditated.  The shooting in Arizona was pre-meditated.  The shooting in Columbine was pre-meditated.  These mass shootings are not the acts associated with the behavior of a mentally ill person.  They are the acts associated with a cold, calculating criminal bereft of human empathy.  Again, he wore a bulletproof vest.  There was preparation involved.  This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment attack, not an instinctive outburst of violence.  This shooting was an amoral action very much reminiscent of the Columbine incident, in which the two shooters were highly-functioning young people who made a choice that you or I would never consider.  But they weren’t “lunatics.”  They weren’t “crazy.”  Maybe they were sociopaths, but they weren’t mentally ill in the common sense.  Take the time to learn the difference.

More often, mentally ill people are capable of great empathy; they are even more kind and more thoughtful than those in better mental health.  There is a beautiful sensitivity to most mentally ill people I’ve ever met in my life, but of course you wouldn’t know that from media portrayals or right-wing diatribes.  You’d only know it from first-hand experience, something that most hasty-to-judge commentators so rarely have.

Please don’t lump a merciless killer in with this often-remarkable group of folks.

Obviously it’s possible that I’ve jumped to my own conclusions while writing my piece.  I’m sure I’ll be made to regret doing it.  But I feel like my essential point of view will hold:  Rather than using tragedy as an excuse to shout at each other, let’s hold off on the noise for a moment, and listen.  Let’s stop and think.  I’ve watched it happen the wrong way too many times, and I’m sick of it.  Common sense.  Our nation was founded upon it.

It’s too late to stop what happened last night, and we may or may not be able to do anything to prevent this kind of horrific event from happening again, but we can absolutely handle our reactions to them now, using empathy, understanding, and a willingness to admit that sometimes we just don’t have all the answers.

–  Jon Abrams.

@jonnyabomb

Laughing At You, Not With You: The Trailer for THE INTOUCHABLES.

That’s The INtouchables, not The Untouchables.  The Untouchables is a good movie which I’d have no problem watching again anytime.  Let’s have one excellent moment together before the darkness descends.

That was nice.  Now back to The Intouchables.

Here’s how IMDb describes The Intouchables:

After he becomes a quadriplegic from a paragliding accident, an aristocrat hires a young man from the projects to be his caretaker.

Here’s how the otherwise terrific IFC Center described The Intouchables when it played there this spring:

A phenomenon in France, where it shattered box-office records to become the second most successful film of all time, The Intouchables tells the true story of the unlikely friendship between a handicapped white millionaire (François Cluzet) and his unconventional Senegalese caretaker (breakout star Omar Sy). A Weinstein Company release.

And here are trailers:

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Now I’m going to make fun of this, and I don’t think I care who it offends.

The reason I say that is because the only people who I care about offending are the same exact ones who would be offended by the very idea of this movie.  Maybe it’s not my place to advocate for the groups who are diminished by a movie like this one, but remember what Edmund Burke said – “all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.”  In other words, if I’m not able to make fun of a movie released in 2012 where a rich white guy hires a poor black guy to be his manservant and we’re expected to see it as uplifting just because he’s in a wheelchair, then we all lose.

How patronizing, facile, clumsy, calculated, shallow, insincere, maudlin, ignorant, superficial, saccharine, simplistic, etc., etc., infinity, can one trailer be?  You might be able to get away with this shit in Europe, but don’t go bringing it to my country and expect me to receive it with a gentle kiss on both cheeks.  To be fair to the filmmakers, I’ve not seen the entire movie.  But to be fair to myself, I ain’t never gonna.

I saw the trailer at the front of a DVD I watched recently, and my hatred immediately ignited as soon as the following exchange transpired:

“These street guys have no pity.”

“That’s what I want… no pity.”

Holy shit, dude.  Not “Hey, you’re wrong about those ‘street guys’, and you shouldn’t generalize, my privileged racist friend”, but “You’re totally right about those black guys — I mean, street guys – and that’s the kind of cruelty I need!”

It’d be a lot easier to take if there weren’t an adorable lil’ Hitler joke a minute later.

Or how about the way that the white guy becomes a quadriplegic from a hang-gliding accident, and instead of learning his lesson from it, just straps himself to the black guy so he can go hang-gliding again, with cruddy Snow Patrol or whatever that song is soaring on the soundtrack with the wings of a moronic eagle.

I hope there’s a scene where the “street guy” reintroduces the wheelchair guy to the pleasures of the flesh and the herb:

I thought so.

How sweet. Hey, I didn’t know this was a bittersweet comedy about how a lowly thug teaches a self-defeating rich man how to love life again by helping him to smoke weed with Asian hookers. If I had known that, I wouldn’t have been so nasty.

Let’s take a look at some production stills and see if we can’t predict exactly what happens in this movie…

“This is the guy behind the guy behind the guy.”

“Well, Wheelchair Guy, I guess what I’m trying to say is, if I can change, and you can change, everybody can change.”

“You‘re the man now, dog!”

And of couse there’s a scene where the Senegalese guy helps the wheelchair guy win a race against two people on Segways.  The fucking French.

“You’re gonna eat lightnin’ and you’re gonna crap thunder, Wheelchair Guy!”

Nineteen-million French people can’t be wrong, huh?

Honestly it’s not as much the French who are annoying me here.  They don’t know any better.  They don’t have the history with racism, both onscreen and off, that our country has.  Even beyond the repulsiveness of this premise (it’s Finding Forrester meets Awakenings! The Blind Side meets The Christopher Reeve Story!) in the context of everything that has happened in real life in America from slavery to Rush Limbaugh, the lame conventions of modern cinema are strong with this one.  We should be beyond this shit by now.  It’s just as offensive to have a magical minority character who brings joy to the wealthy whiteys as it would be to have a stereotypically villainous minority character.  It’s a bad joke if you’re awake, but I’m sure it could appear sweet and affecting if you’re not keyed into this stuff.  That’s why I’m disappointed in Harvey Weinstein, a savvy businessman who should have more of a social conscience — The Weinstein Company picked up The Intouchables for distribution in the States and bought the rights to a remake.  With any luck, Meryl Streep and Tyler Perry can star in a Garry Marshall film and everyone involved can make a bundle off everybody in America who never actually met anyone of another ethnicity.  See, if you actually have a diverse social circle than you know that we’re all just people.  Nobody has mystical abilities, and no one’s problems are solved by anything so easy as a kite ride.  It’s either ignorant or consciously exploitative to sell a movie like this — now which kind of wrong do you want to be?

Maybe I’m the asshole, but I don’t take The Intouchables any more seriously than I take this:

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According to the Wikipedia entry on The Intouchables, a Nina Simone song was appropriated for the movie’s soundtrack.  That’s a bit of blasphemy.  Nina Simone would have fucking HATED this movie on sight.  I super-promise it.

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If I’m wrong, enlighten me.  But if I’ve got a point, then please hate thoughtfully.  I’m findable on Twitter: @jonnyabomb

Rating THE EXPENDABLES According To Their Individual & Current Awesomeness.

So the publicity for The Expendables 2 is ramping up.  I’ve been seeing a new mini-trailer in front of movies at the theater recently, which we should talk about.  For one thing, am I the only person who thinks it looks like they majorly skimped on the cinematography budget?  Seriously, dude.

Expendables 2 was shot by Shelly Johnson, who made pretty pictures for movies like The Wolfman and Captain America (regardless of what you thought of those movies, I liked the look of them), so the ugliness of these frames is clearly not his fault.  Did some less-talented second unit take over for the trailer scene?  These are some rapidly-aging screen queens — you have to light them up pretty like you’d do Julia Roberts or Meryl Streep.

Of course, we’ve got bigger problems.  For one thing, as my friends at Daily Grindhouse have reported, Expendables 2 will be rated PG-13.  Which strikes me as wrong on a few different fronts, but since creative and moral concerns aren’t foremost with this particular franchise, maybe good old American bloodthirst will do?  Expect to see as much gore and viscera in this supposedly manly flick as in an average episode of True Blood.  And with fewer pairs of titties. 

What’s wrong with going full-bore after your core audience?  Tyler Perry does it, to great success.  So do the people who put together the Darling Companion ad campaign.  Better to please your base than to spread your appeal too thin.  Expendables movies are supposed to be for guys.  It’s not a four-quadrant kind of a deal.  That’s why, when you watch the Expendables 2 trailer above, you hear a chorus of male voices asking “Who?” after the name “Hemsworth” comes up.  “Hemsworth” is Liam Hemsworth, and nothing against him, but he’s here to bring in the ‘tweens off his role in the Hunger Games franchise.  If any guy knows the name Hemsworth, it’s because his brother Chris played Thor (I know of Liam because he was in a very good horror movie called Triangle, but I’m always in the minority).  And hey, if you really want girls and women to come to the movie, why not cast an actress anyone’s ever heard of in a prominent role, or even — revolution! — let her join the team?  Where’s Charisma Carpenter, from the first movie?  How about an Angelina Jolie cameo?  Personally, I suggest borrowing Gabrielle Union away from the Tyler Perry juggernaut — she could probably do a cool Pam Grier riff that this franchise badly needs — but again, no one listens to me.

Well, Stallone seemed to, when he apparently made Bruce Willis the villain of the sequel, but there’s more to be righted here, and I’m concerned.  For every right move Expendables 2 looks to have made, like adding future-star Scott Adkins, or casting Jean-Claude Van Damme, who seems to have a sense of humor about himself, there’s a major wrong move, like casting Chuck Norris, who doesn’t. 

It’s enough to demand a referendum on the varying coolness quotients of the stars of Expendables 2 in anticipation and dread of the new movie, which I did here when I looked at the poster, and have since expanded upon for the sake of this article.  So anyway, let’s have a look at the poster again, then take that bitch apart.

There’s a lot going on here.  We’re gonna have to go through it all, element by element:

1.  Sylvester Stallone: 

Again with the beret. I think the beret is Stallone’s way of saying:  “I’m taking it back to the glory days, and by that I do not mean First Blood Part 2, but instead Demolition Man.”  (Personally I happen to like Demolition Man, but I am not what you would call a highbrow critic.)

Letter Grade: C.

2.  Arnold Schwarzenegger: 

Nice Gozer The Gozerian hairdo there, bud.  Seriously, what’s up with Arnold’s hair?  Is the male pattern baldness getting so threatening that the only direction to go was up?  This is not a respectful hairstyle befitting the star of Predator.  You need to treat the star of Predator with more respect, even if you ARE the star of Predator. 

Letter Grade: D.

3.   Bruce Willis:  

He’s got that look that says, “Not that long ago, I was in real movies. Ah, hell. Fuck it anyways.” 

Letter Grade: C+.

4.  Jason Statham: 

He’s got a beret on too.   It’s like he’s got a junior Stallone thing going.  He’s the teacher’s pet.   The thing about Statham is, even his fans have to agree that he bypassed the Rocky phase entirely for his Demolition Man period.  Whether that’s a good or bad thing is up to you.

Letter Grade: C-.

5.  Chuck Norris: 

I’m sorry, but I still find it impossible to believe that this country ever had a red-bearded action hero.  This is a man whose entire fan base is ironic.  All this craziness going on around him, and Chuck Norris is still the one who stands out as a cartoon character.

Letter Grade: F.

6.  The girl: 

Unless that’s Jet Li in drag, no one even bothered to put a name for her on the poster.  Let’s be real:  These movies aren’t interested in women.  Not even as sex objects!  We can only imagine that her death prompts one or more of these dudes to seek revenge.  And then she is never mentioned again.

Letter Grade: C+.

7.  Dolph Lundgren: 

Not sure what’s up with the Tilda Swinton haircut, but his presence here is a triumph.  He died in the first movie, didn’t he?  It’s time to re-assess Dolph Lundgren.  He’s too tough to die, in real life and in sub-par movies, he was the best thing about the first Expendables, and he’s arguably our best hope of elevating the sequel.

Letter Grade: A-.

8.  Van Damme:

He’s got an expression on his face that’s like, “Yeah, I’m wearing a fur scarf and carrying the skinniest gun on the poster. It’s all right. I’m gonna put this gun down in a second and then you’re gonna get to see me kick some motherfuckers in the ear.”

Letter Grade: B+.

9.  Terry Crews: 

I just need to point out that the ex-NFL player is, technically speaking, the most interesting and inspired actor in this entire cast.  (The only one you could even argue comes close to Crews is Willis, and I would win that argument.)

Letter Grade: A.

In conclusion:

I couldn’t wait to see the first Expendables movie. 

Overall, I found it to be a disappointment. 

Regardless, as a masochist, even after all I’ve expressed here, I still absolutely plan to see the second Expendables movie.

This poster is the perfect representation of all my hopes for it and of all my reservations about it.  The new trailer falls more on the latter side of that statement.  I’m the masochistic kind of optimist, I guess.

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UPDATE!!!

Thursday, April 26th, 2011

Via one of my very favorite sites, IMP Awards, Here are the new character posters for The Expendables 2, which I believe only serve to confirm my prior rulings.  Check them out and see if you agree (and let me know if you don’t):

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STALLONE (Beret Sr.)

SCHWARZENEGGER (The Gozerian)

WILLIS (Mr. Apathy)

STATHAM (Beret Jr.)

LI (Exempt From Judgment)

COUTURE (Means “Women’s Clothing” In French)

HEMSWORTH (Most Likely To Get Buggered By One Of These Guys)

YU (Minimum Daily Recommended Amount Of Female)

NORRIS (The Worst One)

CREWS (The Best One)

VAN

LUNDGREN (The Tilda Swinton One)

VAN DAMME (Increased In Awesomeness Due To This Poster)

ADKINS!!!  (If You’re Not Completely Thrilled To See Him Here, You Need To Watch More Action Movies)

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Find me, love me, hate me on Twitter:   @jonnyabomb

March 2012′s Most Unfortunate Movie Posters.

And now it’s time again for that time, again.  Or something.

This is the part where I ponder the no-doubt-expensive advertising campaigns of major motion pictures, mercilessly critiquing them from my cozy perch in my twenty-acre mansion.  Or my mom’s basement.  Or wherever you’d prefer to imagine I do these pieces.

Movie posters can be an art unto themselves, but so often they end up being the opposite.  Things can go wrong for all sorts of reasons.  Some posters have great designs, but are undone by ridiculous taglines. Some are shameless imitations of other, better work. Some are good posters advertising shitty product, like using The Lorax to shill for SUVs. Some are shitty posters advertising a good product. And some are just Photoshop nightmares.  It’s like this every month, but this batch today was culled from the month of March.  When it comes to unfortunate movie posters, March comes in like a lion and goes out like poo-poo from a lion’s behind.  I don’t know what that means but it made me laugh so I’m leaving it in.

Check out the most recent columns from January and February to get caught up, or just read on….

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I’ve only seen this guy in good movies.  Her, I’ve only seen in bad ones.*  When their careers collide, whose track record will win out?  Before you answer, let me also inform you that Whoopi Goldberg is in this movie playing a character named “God” and I do not believe that to be a reference to the Charlie Sheen film Navy SEALS.

* I know you guys are going to bring up Almost Famous but A) That was a decade ago, and what has she done for us lately? and B) Not a whole lot of rewatchability there.  If you can hear those hippies coo “It’s all happening” another hundred times and still not want to stomp on an adorable woodland creature just to make a point, you’re doing better at coping with life than I am.

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This is either an advertisement for the worst David Cronenberg movie of all time, or the greatest Olsen Twins movie of all time.

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“The first real ghost story” looks a whole lot like seven thousand other ghost stories we’ve seen in the past year or so.

Emergo!

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My Week With Marilyn.

Lindsay Lohan’s Playboy cover.

NBC’s Smash.

This song by Nicki Minaj.

This Twitter account.

The poster above.

And so on.

Can we take a break from the Marilyn Monroe thing for a while, or what?

You’d think motherfuckers never heard of Raquel Welch.

Ahhh…  That’s more like it.

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If you don’t want people to come see your movie, you may just as well skip paying for a poster entirely.  You don’t have to go to the trouble of painting a gigantic diseased-looking penis-looking thing on it.  That’s just nasty, dude.

Anybody else ever experience déjà vu?

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Anybody else ever experience déjà vu?

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Anybody else ever experience déjà vu?

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Because if there’s one things Germans know best, it’s “feel-better” comedies.

Also notice how the Golden Globes imprimatur is considered such a drawing point over there.

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Looks like somebody dosed Chris Ware with something awful and he is just screaming out for help.

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And after the psychedelic trip there follows the come-down, and the vomitus.

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Aw man, they cracked open the time capsule from 1995 a little too early.

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My only concern with this poster is if you asked a dumb person to pronounce that title, it would sound very racist.

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Looks like the poster for a Wes Anderson movie.

You mean it is one?

You don’t fucking say.  I’ve long been a fan, but these things are getting progressively cutesier.  My man’s movies are slowly and literally morphing into Rupert comic strips, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on.

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Stupid-Person Focus Group: The Movie.  But maybe this film can emphasize that Transformers connection a little stronger and transform into something I’d rather see, like a grizzly bear slamming Michael Bay and Peter Berg’s heads together.

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Cool poster, if this is the dude’s face mid-face-smash by an undisclosed assailant.  Less cool if he’s just got a jacked-up arm and is just awkwardly pushing his own face.  (It’s fun if you imagine a mime re-enacting a Three Stooges routine.)

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Look out, Stephen Hawking, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, and Richard Dawkins!  Seth McFarlane continues to do his part to add substance to the national conversation.

I heard when Seth McFarlane finally runs out of 1980s TV shows to reference, then and only then will he finally take leave of our planet and ascend to the heavens.  With this poster, we’ve covered Teddy Ruxpin.  We’re just a Small Wonder and a Rubik’s Cube away from Rapture!

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When did Adam Sandler decide to turn on humanity with this level of viciousness?  Seriously, what did I specifically ever do to this guy to deserve what he does?

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Only the second Waiting For Godot reference of the column.

I like to think of Meeting Evil as the first.

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Oooooof.  Shades of Salvation Boulevard.  This is not even acceptable as a first draft.

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Cusack is veering dangerously towards Cage territory with this one.  That’s all I’m saying.  Not saying it’s a bad thing either.  Only that it IS a thing.

 

Exhibit A: Side-by-side contrast of posters for The Raven and Seeking Justice.

Exhibit B: Is not needed.

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Guess they’re banking heavily on the fact that we won’t remember another movie called The Road from three years ago.  You know, the one based on a book that was on Oprah’s book list and EVERYBODY HAS READ.

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I’ve seen more damn trailers for this re-release than for any new movie in the past five years.  Fuck it, man.  You know how she’s always saying in those trailers, “I’lll never let go?”  Spoiler: She lets go.  Saved you the trouble of paying to see this thing.  I’m not going through the pain of seing Leo turn into an icicle again, I don’t care how deep into the sea James Cameron goes.

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Which one’s Tilda Swinton?

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This one bothers me so much for so many reasons, it’s hard to even joke about.  I feel like wanting to see a movie like this or not is a good barometer of what kind of asshole one probably is.  I like to think I’m the right kind of asshole.

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Is this a Creed album cover?  Look at that silly, silly face.  This is not a person whose wrath I’d like to feel.  Sofia Vergara’s wrath, maybe.

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OK that’s it for now.  I need a nap.

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Find me on Twitter: @jonnyabomb

From The Archives: GREEN ZONE (2010).

 

 

The first and best compliment that I can pay Green Zone is that right after I left the screening, I tracked down the source book, Imperial Life In The Emerald City – which wasn’t particularly easy to do after midnight. Naturally, the movie, which was directed by Paul Greengrass, is much more bombastic and action-packed than the book, which was written by Rajiv Chandrasekaran. The movie also isn’t perfect (how many movies are?), but it’s damn good.

 

 

Green Zone is a dramatization drawn from real events – the book was a work of non-fiction that served as the inspiration for the story told on screen. Paul Greengrass is a born rabble-rouser, but one with true class, depth, and visual dexterity. He was at the helm on the latter two Bourne movies – the ones that were twice as frantic as the already frantic original – and he also mounted the very overlooked but profound United 93, a recreation of the events of the morning of September 11^th, 2001. Paul Greengrass is a filmmaker uncommonly concerned with the modern world, and obviously he is a filmmaker unafraid to confront sensitive and even unpopular cinematic subjects.  The Iraq War has proved to be a remarkably unpopular cinematic subject, so at a reported budget of $100 million, Green Zone was a big risk, and, time has told, a sizable flop. Doesn’t mean it ain’t worth seeing, and you can still get out there to do it. Let me work on the convincing part:

 

 

Besides the prodigious talent of Paul Greengrass, Green Zone boasts a script by the awesome Brian Helgeland (L.A. Confidential, Man On Fire) and cinematography by Barry Ackroyd, who deserved the Oscar for The Hurt Locker (another solid Iraq movie which, Best Picture win aside, underwhelmed at the box office.) The supporting cast is terrific, particularly Brendan Gleeson, doing his ragged lurching good-guy-in-a-brutal-world thing as a CIA operative with integrity; Amy Ryan, doing her sweetness-caught-between-bullying-agendas thing as a journalist trying to get a good story; and Greg Kinnear, doing his naughty-white-man-you-probably-can’t-trust thing as a bureaucrat holding to the company line no matter the cost. The set design is impeccable, subbing Spain and Morocco for the Middle East and never less than convincing at it. The score is by John Powell, who’s the guy you get when you can’t get Hans Zimmer. John Powell is an effective action composer. His Green Zone score would be cool in any other action movie – it’s thunderous and dramatic and unrelenting. It’d be great on your iPod at the gym, but I’m not sure it fits this movie perfectly. It feels like a concession to accessibility, honestly.

 

 

Otherwise, Paul Greengrass’ direction pulls no punches, and if some of them land a little heavy, it sure is impressive to watch him swing. The politics of this film are very much on its sleeve, which sympathize or don’t, is some kind of achievement for a $100 million Hollywood movie, and the imagery and camerawork is even more aggressive. Greengrass is the guy who took the hand-held, guerilla-style camera look from TV shows like The Shield and applied it most effectively to feature films, most notably in The Bourne Supremacy and The Bourne Ultimatum. The frenetic, kinetic camerawork of Green Zone feels like it goes a step even further in that direction – and without a more mainstream Bourne type of story to complement it, the camerawork makes a challenging story feel more complicated than it might otherwise. I’ll be honest; there were points during Green Zone where this frustrated me, but with some hindsight, I’ve decided that it’s a bold storytelling choice.

 

 

Green Zone, from the story to the setting to the very way it’s filmed, demands your attention. It forces you to follow the story and its various players and agendas, and if those all sometimes move faster than the audience and the movie’s protagonist can follow… well, that makes sense. The situation in Iraq, for lack of a single better term, is a clusterfuck of historical proportions. You don’t have to subscribe to any political point of view to see that: It’s just the reality we’re all dealing with. Green Zone is asking moral questions. It’s asking questions of accountability. Its point, to paraphrase the movie’s main character, is that the reasons for war always matter. Were the reasons behind this war truly justifiable, considering the cost? It’s an unpopular question to ask, here in the spring of 2010.

 

 

Let’s talk about that main character for a moment though: Chief Warrant Officer Roy Miller, played by Matt Damon. Matt Damon has become the perfect muse for Greengrass’ brand of filmmaking. Damon has become the go-to guy for portraying unsentimental decency and unrelenting competence onscreen. He has an air of morality and trustworthiness that makes him easy to follow, no matter how quickly he’s moving. Watching Green Zone, I thought more than once that in some alternate universe, Matt Damon could’ve helped Marvel solve their Captain America casting issue fairly easily. Personally though, I prefer seeing Damon get it done in movies like Green Zone. His character’s questions are America’s questions; his character asks questions that need answering, even if people aren’t as interested in asking them as we used to be and still should be. When we meet Miller at the beginning of the movie, he’s led his men on yet another dangerous mission that has yielded none of the reported weapons of mass destruction. Miller is a good soldier, but he’s grown tired of risking the lives of the men under his command for shoddy intelligence. He’s no longer willing to lead American soldiers into harm’s way without the proper information. He demands to know where the bad intelligence is coming from, and why. Again, Matt Damon is the perfect audience surrogate for a film like this, and it’s still a question worth asking, even though we now know that the bad intelligence came from the top, and it was flawed to say the least.

 

 

Green Zone’s problem, the reason why hardly anybody went to see it, isn’t a problem with what it is as a movie. It’s a problem of zeitgeist, of audience interest and engagement. It goes beyond politics, because everyone nowadays seems to be disinterested in what Green Zone is trying to address. The people on the right side don’t like it when anyone raises the viable question of why warmongers sent American soldiers into a desert full of religious extremists to fight and die without impeccable intelligence, and the people on the left side are so exhausted with the subject and so unwilling to press the issue that they want to leave the past in the past. My only point, since even now under a new regime the war continues, is that – as the movie posits – the reasons still matter. They always matter. As long as American soldiers are in harm’s way, the reasons will matter. History, even recent history, should always be considered, because the old adage is true and in this case it actually happened: If we don’t ask why, and keep the question close at hand, we’re doomed to repeat our history. I believe that this is what Paul Greengrass is trying to say with this movie, and it’s too bad that no one was listening.

 

 

@jonnyabomb

 

 

P.S. Green Zone was featured on my list of 20 Favorite Movies of 2010.  And here’s the trailer!

 

 

2000 Words On: IRRATIONAL FEARS.

I first wrote this piece in 2008.  I still consider it to be among my best, because the subject matter is even more relevant today than it was four years ago. 

 

I’m not plagued by all too many irrational fears.  Some people are afraid of dogs, or spiders, or clowns.  Not me.  Not my issues.  I feel kind of lucky that way.  In about three decades, I have probably had exactly that many irrational fears, and I eventually found a way to defeat them all.  Here’s a quick rundown of how that process went:

Irrational Fear #1:  Sharks

Reason Why I Was Scared:  Soulless, doll-eyed apex predators who come out of the sea (which itself is unfathomably vast and emotion-less) in order to bite living warm-blooded things.

Reason Why I Am No Longer Scared:  Stood face-to-face with a captive great white until the fear went out of my knees for good.  (Long story, but it really happened!)

Irrational Fear #2:  Bears

Reason Why I Was Scared:  Way more dangerous than sharks, because at least sharks look scary as a warning, and they stay put in the [easily avoidable] sea.  On the other hand:  Bears look cute, but by nature they are lethal killers!  And they’ll get you on land or in water, if that’s what they want to do.

Reason Why I Am No Longer Scared:  Haven’t gone into the woods in almost five years.  As long as I keep that up, my chances of not running into a bear are better than average.

Irrational Fear #3:  Sewage

Reason Why I Was Scared:  There’s so much of it, and so much more daily.  Where does it all go?!?

Reason Why I Am No Longer Scared:  Maturity?  I just don’t think about it any more.  There’s nothing I can do about these concerns of mine, and I have to trust that the environmentalists and the poo-specialist scientists have it all figured out.

So that’s all well and good.  I mean, how excellent for me to finally be less afraid than I was of all the things that are least likely to ever threaten me.  I genuinely do wish that simple peace for all my loved ones, acquaintances, and readers.

But very recently, a new irrational fear has loomed on the horizon I’ve been sailing towards, a fear that I’m not even sure is all that irrational.  As I slowly, steadily become more active as a professional writer, I am hit square in the gut, and directly in the writer vein, more and more by the day, with this crippling worry:

Irrational Fear #NOW: 
What if we run out of movie titles?

This one literally keeps me awake at night.

 

Think about it:  There’s only something like a quarter of a million words in the English language that have ever existed.  Which sounds like a lot, but not when you consider a few things: 

¨           That a huge percentage of those words are no longer in common use (I like “Petard” or “Cicatrice” as action/horror titles, but try pitching those);

¨           That as far as movie titles go, we’re really limited to nouns, and after that maybe a small fraction of the available adjectives and verbs; and

¨           That in the century-plus of world cinema to-date, almost all of the best single words, and word combinations, have already been taken.

Making up new words, or tapping into foreign languages, as an alternative title source is simply not an option, or at least, it’s a very limited one.  Movies from Apocalypto to Zathura have suffered diminished returns by braving the waters of scantly recognizable titles.

Then there are the wealth of original, yet-unearthed words which you nonetheless just can’t use. 

Antidisestablishmentarianism: The Movie is a highly unlikely candidate for arrival at your local multiplex, and not just because it wouldn’t fit on the marquee.  It’s because if your average man or woman on the street can’t say it when they’re ordering a ticket, the studios probably won’t let it happen.  Nor should they.  Again, that’s one of those business strategies I happen to agree with – a movie shouldn’t send you to the dictionary before you even get a chance to experience it.  That would be kind of elitist, intentionally or otherwise.  Certainly it’s not inviting a practice as befits the essentially populist art form of movies.  So as much as I am curious to watch every picture originating from the word processor of Charlie Kaufman, the title of the upcoming Synecdoche, New York bothers me a little.  It might be a title that tickles New Yorker critics, but I personally can’t pronounce it, so how am I going to recommend it (or not) to my friends? 

Then again, at least he found a word no one else was using.  Ain’t too many of them left.

Make no mistake, this is a real problem.

And don’t think that the practiced professionals don’t share my fear.  The studios have vaults full of words and phrases and titles trademarked.  They’ve been stockpiling for the titular apocalypse for over twenty years, according to archived articles I found in the New York Times (circa 1986) and other such sources.  The studios own entire books full of copyrighted titles that they can slap on a movie at will.  That means if you’re a fledgling writer with a title you’re just positive hasn’t been used before, chances are you’re not right.

Most writers know the very specific brand of agony that comes with inventing a movie title that perfectly encapsulates the story you’ve told, only to see in the papers that the same title is already in development.  Well, strap yourselves onto the torture rack because the pain’s only going to get worse, as more and more thesaural real estate is claimed.

I’m positive that this downtrend has plenty to do with why there have been so many sequels appearing over the last twenty years.  Surely, sequels happen largely out of audience popularity, and because of the monumental and simple financial rewards.  But it’s also, somewhere, got just a little something to do with the shortage of titles.

A related, disturbing trend is that there are plenty of movies that start out with one title, only to be switched to another.  Hancock is one such example.  Originally titled  Tonight, He Comes, last summer’s Will Smith superhero action comedy was yanked back and saddled with the main character’s surname instead, like an overzealous kid who runs out of the house without putting his winter coat on and is called back by his mom.  Personally, I felt that Tonight, He Comes was something of an unfortunate double-entendre, but better to go with that, than to lock up a more unusual title forever.  (Particularly because it’s still kind of an unfortunate double-entendre.)

Worst of all, some of the best titles ever imagined have already been used on movies that don’t earn them.  My personal favorite example is Hell Comes To Frogtown.  I literally purchased this movie on DVD just so the title on the spine can sit alongside all of my other, more high-minded DVDs.  It’s a glorious title, Hell Comes To Frogtown.   Of course with a title like that it was never going to aspire to be more than a midnight movie, but it could have been an outright classic of midnight cinema, to rank with Big Trouble In Little China or Mother, Jugs, & Speed.  Instead, it just kind of sags.  The movie only has to recommend it the deadpan genius of the opening line (“At the turn of the century there was a difference of opinion” – and then you see a nuclear mushroom cloud).  There is also the joy of the revelation that the “Hell” in the title refers to the main character, whose full name is Sam Hell, and who indeed eventually goes to Frogtown.  But the movie otherwise doesn’t live up to the title.  And now that title can never be used again.  It’s not like a remake is forthcoming.

So more often than not, the result is unambiguous, unambitious, utterly boring monikers clogging up the marquee.  There’s more senselessness and generic branding than ever.  That’s not an attack, believe it or not.  It’s just so hard to achieve art in the naming.  I’m sitting here looking at a list of recent and upcoming movies, and it hurts:

¨           Bangkok Dangerous sounds like something a generic Thai cab-driver would warn an American tourist.  (Or like something Short Round would say to Indiana Jones.  “Bangkok Dangerous!  Very, very dangerous!”)

 

¨           Pride And Glory could be a movie about almost anything, from almost any era.  It’s not like having an interesting title helped a seemingly similar movie, We Own The Night, but it doesn’t hurt to differentiate as much as possible when making a movie about tormented cops.  There’s only a few thousand entries in the genre.

¨           The Haunting Of Molly Hartley?  Okay, only who’s Molly Hartley and why might we care if she’s haunted?  I’m haunted.  Most of us are, and we make do without a movie.

 

¨           Twilight is surely a cool title, but they’re counting on the fact that the Goth kids won’t remember a not-very-old-at-all movie, which was a solid enough piece of old-style Hollywood the first time.  It had the great, recently departed Paul Newman, and Gene Hackman, and Reese Witherspoon’s kajoobies.  It might have been a low-key effort, but I’m not sure that pasty, pouty vampires will up the coolness quotient all that dramatically. 

 

 

¨           Beverly Hills Chihuahua is a movie that should only ever exist if it were a line-for-line remake, Gus Van Sant Psycho style, of the Eddie Murphy classic action-comedy, with a golden retriever in the role of Rosewood and a bulldog as Sgt. Taggart.

   

Some newer movies are taking the clever, post-modern tactic of overloading a title with words.  The more title words, the better.  For instance, just recently we’ve had Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist and How to Lose Friends & Alienate People.  But this is a temporary fix at best, and the inevitable shorthand is somehow incredibly annoying.  It’s somehow cringe-worthy whenever people talk about how much they love Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind – because they don’t say Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, they say “Eternal Sunshine.”  Them:  “Want to go see ‘Nick and Norah’?”  Them:  “Want to ‘Lose Friends’?”   That’s one way to do it, I guess.  Want to get punched in the face?

  

Using a one- or two- word character name is another thumb-in-the-dam tactic.  After all, it’s a fair bet that there are many more first names, last names, and nicknames than vocabulary words.  Examples are the recent Max Payne, or W.  This tactic is solid, because it’ll last as long as there are character names, which I feel has GOT to be longer than the stable of remaining title names will last.  But remember, fellow writers, you can title your movie with only one or two names – never three – unless your movie is about a political assassin.

Aspiring namers can also whip up a recipe for a new movie title combination by using some of of the most commonly-used prefixes.  I’ll use the two most common to illustrate: 

American + [blank] = [somewhat original movie title]

EX.:  American Beauty, American Graffiti, American Splendor, American Pie, American History X, The American President, An American Werewolf In London, An American Tail, American Gangster, American Pimp, American Psycho, American Gigolo, American Buffalo, American Zombie, and American Ninja.

Or…

Dead + [blank] = [barely original movie title]

EX.:  Dead Man, Dead Man Walking, Dead Poet’s Society, The Dead Pool, Dead Calm, Dead Again, Dead Man’s Shoes, Dead Presidents, Dead Ringers, Dead Heat, The Dead Zone… and I’m barely into the horror genre yet…

The above naming strategy may be about as original as Frank Caliendo’s never-ending John Madden impression, and I do not recommend it.

   

Sometimes a writer will put the pitch in the title.  “Jim Carrey is Yes Man!”  It’s a successful, if cynical, way to get your movie made.  But to those who have long memories and remember a popular movie with the same star a decade ago called Liar Liar, that particular example is a cue for sighs.  Likewise Zack and Miri Make A Porno, which gets the job done in a more original, daring fashion, even if, like so much Kevin Smith, it is awkwardly worded and a high-wire act on the tongue.

   

Speaking of tongues and awkwardness:  Be careful, fellow writers, of the risky move of swapping out one word of a pre-existing title.  Most recent example:  Body of Lies:  Is it a political spy movie with Russell Crowe and Leonardo DiCaprio, or an early-90s erotic thriller with Willem Dafoe and Madonna?  [By the way: ewww.]  It might not be the topical subject matter alone which scared audiences away from the newer film.  I’m just saying.

 
All of which brings us full-circle to fear.  I wish I was writing this essay with the intention of presenting a corrective, or as a ninth-inning method of salvation.  But I’m not sure it’s forthcoming.  And if I did have the answer, even being the born giver I am, I would probably have to keep it to myself.  But tragically, no, I don’t know where the new movie titles are going to come from; rather, like everyone else, I’m watching them rapidly disappear every day. 

 

Just a couple weeks ago, I learned that the title I had selected as one of my horror stories is already well into production… as a talking-animal kid’s movie!  [Heaven help us; It was this.]  That’s not the worst of it – the scary part is that the title absolutely works either way!  So I don’t want to unduly alarm anybody, but we have to face the creeping truth:  The boogeyman is out from under the bed.  Hiding under the covers won’t work anymore.  He’s roaming around the room, headed straight for us, and our collective national flashlight is low on batteries. 

Get scared now.

 @jonnyabomb