Don't get too old to make movies, Mr. Loach

I first became aware of Ken Loach in 1996. I was living in Germany, and would cross the border to Strasbourg, France to see films in English. There was one big place that always had a few American or English films, and there was some other smaller, artsy place where you could see more obscure thing, often in series. There was a Ken Loach series at one point, and they were running Land and Freedom and Ladybird, Ladybird. I don't even remember if I saw those films there, so I don't how I remember what they were.

In any case though, by now, I've seen most of his films, and had been waiting all year to see The Wind That Shakes the Barley. Cillian Murphy was very convincing as a blue-eyed Irish doctor who gives up his medical career to fight for Irish independence with his brother and brethren. Ireland in 1920 is something I know nothing about, and I now want to know more. It's curious that an English filmmaker was telling this story. And the English characters were so extremely ugly in this, I found myself wondering if this was accurate, or if Loach was somehow making atonement or reparations for his forefathers.

I haven't cried so hard in a movie in ages. We know, because we hear, that war makes a person do unimaginable things. When someone's loyalty to a cause wins out over their bonds with family, this becomes even harder to understand. And like many war movies, it left me crying not only for the story, but in gratitude for my own privilege and freedom.

I'm glad I wasn't able to catch this in the theater earlier this year, because on the DVD is s short documentary called "Carry on Ken" exploring the director's work. Robert Carlyle, Peter Mullen and other actors from some of his best work, along with crew members and the man himself review the unique ways in which he works, and explain why they think his films are so unique.

I didn't realize it, but he forces his actors to use a lot of improv, which always intriques me in dramas. In fact, they talk specifically about the scene in Carla's Song when Robert Carlyle's character finds Carla in the bathtub. That was improv. The only instruction the actor got was to go to that apartment, find the key, and go in. Amazing stuff.

He's got a new one lined up for next year, I think it's called It's a Free World.

rave against the occupation

There were no previews... we were eating now & laters and telling stories, when the lights dimmed, and a few hebrew titles appeared on the screen. Then, suddenly it was all shaky camera and military checkpoint chaos. And somehow I was rapt from the first moment. Eytan Fox already impressed me with his storytelling in Walk on Water , but I wasn't expecting as much from The Bubble. Alyna and I were discussing this as we were walking in. The slick sexy American look of the poster made it look kinda stupid, but really it was a look into a little bubble of modern young (queer) life in Tel Aviv. A few plot twists that I didn't see coming drew things out to make a longer movie than it probably needed to be, and really - I'm not so sure about that Shakespearean ending, but I did shed a few tears. I also enjoyed listening to the Hebrew, especially the names. It also had a pretty awesom soundtrack. Bebel Gilberto, Israeli covers of Tim Buckley, some Bright Eyes, Belle and Sebastian...Nada Surf...shall I go on? All good, evocative film music. Don't rush out and see it in the theater or anything, but it is pretty good.

first of the burrs

Fall hasn't officially started yet, and what my dad calls the "first of the burrs" came and went on Labor Day weekend with beautiful weather. But, this week, the temperature dropped. And here I am thinking about winter squash, the smell of leaves, my halloween costume (octopus or bagpipes? what a quandary) and the ridiculous amount of live music I'll be taking over the next two months.

I kicked it off on Saturday with a trip to the Hideout Block Party. My pal Joe and I were waylaid due to the fact that we got lost. I know, I know. I hadn't been there in years, and he never had, and neither of us bothered to writed down the directions. So we walked and walked. We got our excercise, but we missed our first target, which was Dan Deacon's 4:00 performance. But, I'm pretty sure that he was the vision in baby blue we saw during Art Brut's set... Barbara, who met up with us, and I were admiring his costume (Russian circus strong man on holiday in florida ca. 1978?) and wondering if he gave mustache rides.

Despite our navigational errors, we had a great time. In addition to getting $20 and free food from Kia for test driving a car, we got to take in some great and not-so-great-but-still-fun performances. I think a lot of the musicians were sitting around drinking beer all afternoon, so some numbers suffered, but at least they were enjoying themselves. It was hard to hear Art Brut's funny as hell lyrics outdoors, and I think they were drunk. I hear Mucca Pazza can be fun in a small setting, but after they paraded up onto the stage, the got pretty boring pretty fast. The Blue Ribbon Glee Club prompted me to elbow Barbara and say "My four-year-old could paint that." Not that I have a child at all, but what I meant was that anybody could get a group of friends together to belt out off-key choral arrangements of pop tunes. Yeah, I know, we could, but we don't, which is why they have cornered the market.

Now, down to business. I don't know many of the Frames' songs, but I will say that they started out strong - totally connected and playing the hell out a few tunes. But then I think that afternoon of drinking took over, and things started to fall apart a little. They brought some local chicks up from the audience to sing that overplayed song from that overplayed movie. (I'm not saying it's bad, I'm just saying summer is over, and so I need a break from Falling Slowly... and from Young Folks, now that you mention it.) Bringing part of the glee club back up for a kick-ass cover of the Pixies' "Where is My Mind" was a good move though, and that was a fine way to end things.

Seriously though. I've caught Andrew Bird a handful of times, and after his last performance at the Riviera back in April, I'd decided that he doesn't do as well live as I'd like him to, and so I would probably take a pass the next time he came around.

I take it back.

He had an energy on Saturday that I've always wanted to see from him. I mean, some of those tunes are pretty rocking, and I've thought that he often gets too wrapped up in the recording and looping and instrument-switching. It's a laborious process, and I feel tired because he seems like he might be trying too hard. But this time, technology was on his side, and it was a pretty amazing set. His voice has matured so much since his Bowl of Fire days. He's a pleasure to listen to, and on this night, he looked so happy in his sweaty cloud of beats and bowstrings, he was a pleasure to watch, too.

Here's someone's video. But you really had to be there.



Okay. I promise I'll work on being more succinct next time, but how was that for my first review?

that's all over when we ride up troy's bucket

Went to the Music Box for The Goonies tonight. There were far too few people in the theater, but boy do I love that film. First time I've seen it on the big screen since I was a wee goonie myself. So many great moments. I want to watch it again and again.

I'm totally pumped for the Paste Secret Show at Subterannean tomorrow. I can't believe they're keeing us in the dark about who's going to be there. Well, I know it's not Pearl Jam. And that's a relief in my book. I'm hoping for My Morning Jacket. Or Son Volt.

too much information

I think I watch too many movies, and I think that dampens my enjoyment of the really good ones. I haven't been to the theater in a while, the last time being the screening of Eagle vs. Shark (complete with q & a with Taika Waititi and the leading lady) because every time I think of it, I guilt myself into "enjoying the weather" instead. Sometime that means sitting in my bedroom with my laptop, watching DVD's.

It's only fitting that Ingmar Bergman just passed away, as I've been watching a lot of movies from the Scannies these days. That's my own term, and I don't mean it to be insulting to my brethern from the Nordic region. I truly enjoy the time I've spent there. I just like the word Scannie.

So I can't give you actual reviews, I'll just give you some statements.

Together (AKA in Swedish: Tillsammans)
I gave this 4 out of 5 stars, just like I did the other two Lukas Moodysson films I've seen (I'm too scared by what I've read to see his most recent.) I don't know. Maybe I just like listening to Swedish. Maybe I just like the geeky teenage crush story. Or maybe I'm sentimental, and like watching these people build their own wacky family from what they've got.

Brothers
Danish - kind of shocking story how war forces two brothers to switch roles. I thought the acting (even the kids - loved the pancake scene) was pretty damn good, and if there's anything I like listening to more than Swedish, it's Danish.

I know, I know, "Danskerne taler med kartofler i munden." But I still think it's hot. Except when your PTSD is manifesting itself in the form of ripping apart your house and trying to kill your wife and kids, then it's as scary as English.

After the Wedding
I tried not to get nostalgic as father and daughter were sitting at one of the Tivoli Restaurants. What's this movie about. Choices, secrets, power, regret. Not sure why I liked it so much, but there's the Danish again. And every character was pretty flawed, so I guess that's kind of real.

The Secret Life of Words
I was loving the quiet quirkyness of life on the rig... just enjoying the movie for what it was and wondering what I could do to get a job cooking on one of those contraptions... then, when Hanna finally starts telling her story, they almost lost me. It was seeming so textbook for a while. But then I realized that what she was saying was so unimaginable, it's never going to seem real. I keep thinking about it, and it's been a few weeks, so it must have been good after all.

Summer in the City

It seems like there's something to do at every moment.

This morning: 12 mile run

Last night: Awkward (because I wasn't drinking in preparation for said run and didn't know most of the people very well) pre-wedding party for colleague.

Thursday night: Live taping of Wait Wait Don't Tell Me at Millennium Park, followed by dinner at an Armenian restaurant. (Just in case anyone's wondering, this sort of activity would probably meet my expectations for a "perfect date" but it wasn't a date, because there were three of us.)

Wednesday: Self-procalimed holiday of "Decemberists Day." Spent the morning slaving over a stove. Lunch with other hooky-playing friends at Glenn's Diner, followed by picnic and slightly rainy Decemberists show in Millennium Park. A great day, but I was too tired and irritated by the drunk people who weren't listening to the music to really enjoy the show as much as I wanted.

Before that I was in Denver. Tonight I think I might head over to one of Chicago's neighborhood festivals to check out the Redwalls and Poi Dog Pondering. Old and new(er) denizens of Chicago's rock scene? Tomorrow there's talk of going to someone's place to play with the Wii. I hear it's a good time.

three in one, netflix dvd reviews

fur
loved it. asking/answering the questions about how someone from a prim and proper background ends up documenting the seedy underbelly. the surreal lens, the colors, the fur, hair, sex, etc, were pretty awesome. I could barely stand to watch the shaving scene though. I don't even remember how I used to shave my legs.

gray matters
Piece of crap. Yes, people I know and like enjoyed it but well, I'm convinced that Heather Graham's character will stay single forever. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But see, she thinks it's because she's been chasing the wrong gender all her life... even though she thinks she gay now, she's still got the problem that she's fucking obnoxious.

slc punk
Well, I liked this. Though, I think there were probably a few anachronisms, and there was a clear lack of a plot, it was still a fun little essay of poser/punk coming of age in Salt Lake City. I was drawn to this after spending two weeks there on business recently. I like the actors though, and a did shed a tear when the one dude died.