Someone(s) should be fired

Who picks the music that plays during end credits? Whomever it is, in many cases, s/he is doing an abominable job. End credit music should be fun but not memorable, or jumpy and fresh enough to get you to sit through and actually enjoy some extra clips that they have tacked on to get you to acknowledge the otherwise never-watched list of people who don’t matter…to you.

So what is Melissa Etheridge doing at the end of “An Inconvenient Truth”? Or Bryan Adams in “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves”? The Melissa Etheridge song has a message, sure, but it’s hokie dyke rock at the end of a film intended to reach and sober a broad audience. Give me a break. It made me laugh at the end of a most unlaughable two hours. Shameful.

And Bryan Adams? Stay within the era kids! Yes, it’s a love story that ends with a marriage and its release-date was at the height of BA’s reign in soft rock. The film, though, did an otherwise admirable job of maintaining a serious and dated tone, dated in the early 19 1190’s . Again, shameful.

Perhaps this is what W. means about history being the ultimate judge: relying on pop music is a great misstep, as what is pop today will inevitably NOT be tomorrow. Yes, I’m sure that’s it.

I am reaching for a glass

I am back in Maryland and have many back-logged mental blog posts that I could not be bothered to write while I was on a Costa Rican beach.

This, however, is not one of those. This is about American cinema, specifically two somewhat recent movie-going ventures: ‘Charlie Wilson’s War’ and the new ‘National Treasure’ movie whose subheading I did not manage to catch as that is how much it matters.

First, Charlie Wilson. This man makes me want to be in politics. Much like ‘Bad Santa’, the film makes alcoholism attractive again, something to aspire to, even. They just make it look so easy…the magic of film. Otherwise, there is little to say about it. It was charming and timely and all those nice things, but mostly it made me want to be a booze hound. Also, I went with my family on Christmas day which warrants a bit of commentary.

As is always the case, the Jews of Bethesda were out in full force. Quite a lot of Jew-fros in pea coats talking about our traditions of Chinese food on that most Hallmark, I mean holy, of days. I have also recently discovered, however, that Christmas movies are not just for Jews anymore. As one gentile friend explained it to me, their family, by some holy writ, has to spend the entire day together. Well, after the morning gifting festivities expire, they too tire of simply staring at each other, so they take an excursion to stare at something else for a while. The movies are perfect: a family can see one together, stay together the whole day without drawing blood, and have something to talk about over dinner.

Unless they saw National Treasure 2, in which case they will have gone home, gone straight for the bottle, and either drawn blood before dinner or passed out and skipped it entirely.

I have a theory as to why it was SO bad, and it’s not necessarily the writers’ fault. This was the first PG movie I had seen since Home Alone, and I think that the genre of PG movies died with that film. Think about it…G-rated movies are still incredible, but they are generally animated and full of hilarious innuendo that is meant to go over the kids’ heads and reach a larger, parental audience. Then there is PG-13, the live-action-practically-anything-goes-but-you-can-only-say-”fuck”-once-rating. Brilliant teen and light adventure movies (including, I believe, National Treasure 1) end up PG-13. The theory goes, then, that National Treasure 2 was written as a PG movie, as a piece of throwaway crap that couldn’t do or say anything exciting in spite of the hot actress and legacy of a good-bad-movie left by the first film.

That being said, the kids in the audience liked it. Perhaps my standards for bad movies are too high (or is it low?). The best I have seen in that category lately is “Gray Matters”. It really warrants its own post but this one is already far too long so don’t ask, just rent. At the very least, here is the IMDB link.

perspective

BBC America, one of the 500 T.V. stations that I am privy to in my parents’ basement, had a spot about the U.S. elections a few nights ago. At first, it was amusing to watch the Brit correspondent in East L.A., translating his own Spanish for the viewers (not half bad, I must say). Then he went to Phoenix, to an anti-McCain radio show on which a woman called in to say this:

“He’s lying. He’s not going to protect the borders. He’s against torture. I’m pro-torture…”

Hmm, where to start? For one thing, I think it is great that the “torture debate” has finally come down to the level of the people. It is useful, and in many cases sobering, to hear what Americans have to say on the issues of torture as exercised by the federal government and its agencies. John McCain brings a unique perspective to the conversation as a former POW and victim of torture, bringing the discussion out of the abstract, out of the utilitarian thought experiments about pulling a switch and/or pushing someone off a bridge in order to save ten other lives. In my humble opinion, it is absurd, illogical, irrational, immoral (choose which sign works best for you) to contradict John McCain on the topic of torture. If torture is to be considered a moral issue (and some — fascists — might argue that it should not, but shouldn’t all legal matters begin with morality?), then how better to judge it than from a lived experience, from the closest possible perspective?

Basically, that lady blew me away. If you want to argue for torture do it against someone who hasn’t been there. Otherwise, you just sound ignorant.

Sorry Sean, that is isn’t very sarcastic, crass, or witty.

My future

I recently had the pleasure of lunching with the grandparents of a very close friend of mine. I have met these folks before, the last many Thanksgivings, having the requisite conversations before I get too drunk on wine and turkey and chocolate cake to speak with anyone. Not that we had much to talk about before all of this happens.

Last week in New Jersey, of course they live in a retirement community in New Jersey, Steven and I sat down for some awkward cold cuts (whose grandparents, who complain that Steven’s girlfriend isn’t Jewish, serve ham? Bad sign number two, behind New Jersey) and I am forced to deflect questions about “my future”. What did I study? What am I going to do with it, “career-wise”? I do my best to explain the next year or so of my life which will not be “career-oriented”, and compliment Florence on the cole slaw.

A few days later, Steven gives me the full debrief on our visit. The grandparents had spoken with Steven’s father, told him how nice it was to see Steven, how tragic it is that he is always going off somewhere and not spending more time with them, how “interesting” his art is, that they have hopes for his “career”, and how Florence is not worried about my lack of professional direction as, drum roll please, I will just “be somebody’s wife“.

Steven told me this as we were strolling by the Congressional office buildings and I had to sit down on the ledge to take it all in. The gasps and screeches of laughter only added to our novelty on the block. “Who says that?” I asked rhetorically. Florence. In Florence’s world, this is my option, my destiny.

Any takers?

I’m not quite over this yet. More to come on wifery.