If you're not excited yet, you should be...

If you're like me, than you spent 8 hours of you life at a Rambo marathon on the night that the 3rd sequel, humbly titled Rambo, premiered. If you're like me than you sat there somewhat comfortably...no, wait. Who am I kidding? I had already been there for six hours, I was anything, but comfortable. But if you're like me then you didn't give a crap because director Sylvestor Stallone was making sweet sweet man-love to your brain. Now if you're like me than you probably are counting the days until he releases his next testosterone-fueled '80s action-movie-inspired love-machine.

The film is called The Expendables. What's it about? Don't care. Will it win any awards? Big no. Here's what I need to know. Writer: Stallone. Director: Stallone. Starring: Stallone...and every other bad-ass actor he could get his hands on. Hell even the governator has a cameo. Fuck yeah.

If you still don't believe me, here's the cast so far:

Jet Li

Jason Statham

Dolph Lundgren

Mickey Rourke

Eric Roberts

Arnold Schwarzenegger

Terry Crews

Danny "Machete" Trejo

And this just in. The man himself, Steven Seagal, has just been added to the cast. Filming has begun with a 2010 release date.

Happy dreams, my friends. There is at least one stimulus package coming that's guaranteed to save the world. Its name is The Expendables.

Professor P

One Time Offer

New Team Members!!!

Some of you may have noticed that we have a new member on the Lies and Gasoline team. I would like to personally welcome Smokey McSmoke-Smoke to the blog and I pray that his contributions can live up to the impossibly high standards already set by our administrator, Professor Puff.

If anyone else is interested in becoming a contributing editor, please contact administration with an idea for a new segment or story that fits somewhere within the very general theme of the blog. Or if you just want to disagree with the L&G staff that is okay too.

Professor P

JUNOs 2009 and the state of Canadian Music (a.k.a: Nickelbackstabbed by simple planning)

(DISCLAIMER: if you are a fan of Nickelback, Simple Plan, Hedley, Billy Talent or any other Canadiana crapola, do not read this post or even return to this blog, because there is scientific proof that these bands suck and I will not apologize for the subsequent rant).

It seemed that only a few sweet years ago the Canadian indie scene possessed enough gusto to at least give the stale mainstream a run for its money. The proud warriors of Broken Social Scene and The Arcade Fire rode a fiery sonic juggernaut with the rest of Montreal calling, sowing the seeds of a soundscape once fallow from the turn-of-the-millennium murk. It appeared that the nuclear winter was over and the survivors could emerge from their bunkers and prosper in a fertile land. It was a time when The Weakerthans could erect a second tower, with people listening this time; when Sarah Harmer was hip; and when The New Pornographers, having defended the indie western front (the harshest of places) for so long with virtually no allies, became the supergroup they already were. Was this the beginning of the end for the Theory of a Nickel Default and Simple Talent Empire? Would the roots redux movement be the Shiva to eradicate the Americopycats? Would the ghosts of Creed finally be silenced? Would there be a complete reclamation in the wake of the Silver Side Up event? Well… no…

So what happened? Is it because of saturation? I mean, did the Montreal Scene really need Mobile, wasn’t that taking it a bit too far? Are not The Midway State and Low Level Flight Billy Talent by-way-of The Dears with a very healthy dose of imported Keane? Is it because of follow up mediocrity? I mean, Neon Bible was no Funeral, Challengers was no Twin Cinema, and Reunion Tour was no Reconstruction Site. But was that really the answer? Well… no…

When you really think about it, the Nickelbacks and Simple Plans have always achieved a level of craft comparable to a urinal cake, sewage with a sweet gloss. And we certainly don’t need any more urinal cakes in the Canadian music scene. In the end, we have to assume that the reasons for shit prevailing are that the majority of young Canadian consumers are musically stupid and/or conservative. They’re constantly being fed the same musical meal, which they don’t realize and/or don’t care about; they just want to have something to fill their iphone. Because of this, the indies have to vs. one another at the JUNOs, and Dark Horse wins Canadian album of the year. But that’s a no brainer when it’s up against two albums of 70s & 80s rehashes (like two answers of a multiple choice that you automatically know are wrong). So it seems that these bands are like cockroaches: as repulsive as they are, they just won’t die. And that is the state of Canadian music as of the 2009 JUNOs.

- Smokey McSmoke-Smoke

STOP PIRATING PC GAMES

I read a great article about PC game piracy. The PC game market is slowing dying in favor of the console market and part of this is due to the ease of piracy of the PC format. Don't let this happen.

Here it is: http://pc.ign.com/articles/967/967564p1.html

Professor P

Top Movies #9

Ikiru (1952)

“I can't afford to hate people. I don't have that kind of time.” – Kanji Watanabe

Ikiru is not a fast-paced film. But given the fate of the protagonist, the pace of the film is most appropriate. We are introduced in the very first frame to the fact that the lead character, Kanji Watanabe, has an inoperable stomach cancer. The doctors do not tell him this: they claim it is just an ulcer. But Watanabe knows the truth as he was warned by another concerned patient that if the doctor tells you that you do not have to worry about your diet, it is a sign that you do not have an ulcer. What follows is a slow-moving, contemplative film.

For most people, this grim prognosis would send them down a path of depression and solitude. Watanabe, however, lives a rather monotonous and meaningless life. His son, the only family Watanabe is shown to have, pays no attention to him. At work, Watanabe finds that his job is so riddled with bureaucracy that nothing is ever accomplished. Inspired by his ominous fate, Watanabe begins to really live life and find meaning: determined to leave his mark on the world. This idea that one person can make an honest difference in the world, given an early deadline, is a timeless human fable. That we are inspired to leave our mark as soon as we come to realize our mortality is a deeply personal endeavour, but one that often becomes selfishly motivated. This is not the case of Kanji Watanabe, he does not care about immortalizing himself, he truly just wants to make the world, or even just his own little neighbourhood, a better place. This better place is symbolized by the construction of a playground, but the bureaucratic hurdles that Watanabe must jump to reach his goal are daunting.

There is a twist two hours into the film that will leave some audiences perplexed and confounded, when the film’s focus shifts from Watanabe to a group of businessmen interpreting Watanabe’s final days and actions after he has passed, but the new direction is essential for the film’s final commentary on human nature. Although Watanabe did not pursue his new venture with the goal of immortalization in mind, it is interesting to watch Watanabe’s colleagues and acquaintances analyze his change of heart and the actions made prior to his death. Because Watanabe acted so uncharacteristically and so selflessly, the group is unable to comprehend Watanabe’s final months, but they try to with mixed results.

The film’s most famous shot is also its most beautiful. A physically exhausted, yet emotionally satisfied, Watanabe is seated on a swing in an empty park. It is the middle of the night and it is snowing lightly, giving the scene its visually haunting quality. Watanabe swings gently and quietly sings a song about the fleeting nature of life and love. This park exists only because of the efforts of Watanabe in the last few months of his life. Watanabe, having regained his passion for life, is now ready to leave it behind.

"Life is so short/Fall in love, dear maiden."

Top Movies #8

Brotherhood of the Wolf (2001)

“Salmo truta dermopilla, from Canada.” – Gregoire de Fronsac, as he displays a taxidermically-produced hairy fish

Sometimes I admit that Christophe Gans’ Brotherhood of the Wolf is a guilty pleasure. Why, then, does it rank so highly on this list? The answer is simple. This is one of those films that I find so insanely fun to watch, that the shear multitude of innovative visual feats and jaw-dropping choreography more than compensate for what the film may lack in substance. The film is not without substance. In fact, if I really work at it, I am willing to bet I can come up with a pretty convincing argument about the film’s statement on the destructiveness of revolution and the fall of a monarchy. This is a necessary and inevitable act, the film suggests, but a lot of great things and a lot of great history are lost in the process.

But enough of that. The film is just plain fun. Every frame dazzles with excitement and there is not a dull moment in its two and a half hour running time. The first thing that grabs me is how richly coloured the film is. The period costumes dance with deep reds, blues, and greens. The forests are lush and vibrant. Even the dark caves are beautifully textured and shimmer with the glow of rich orange flame. The rain literally pops out of the screen. Outside of the cinematography, one only needs to categorize all the different genres and influences interacting seamlessly in this film to appreciate its ambition. It is a French period piece, complete with authentic and detailed costumes and locales. It is a historical epic, based (or at least inspired by) actual bizarre killings in the Gevaudan region by an unidentified wolf-like creature in the mid-eighteenth century. It is a horror/fantasy film, home to a mysterious beast. It is an action film, utilizing the kick-boxing talents of Mark Dacascos. It is an adventure and it is a romance. It is funny and it is tragic. One would imagine that all these elements could not possibly function effectively together, but Gans makes it work. And the result is always breathtaking, always vivid.

Review: Encounters at the End of the World (2008)

Encounters at the End of the World (2008)

Werner Herzog’s Encounters at the End of the World is an astounding, beautiful film. It’s one of those movies, like many directed by Herzog, whose images and philosophies will haunt you long after the viewing.

Antarctica is the destination for people without attachments to the rest of the world. It is as if these dreamers, as Herzog refers to them, gave up looking for purpose in the mainland and so fled to one of the planet’s last great frontiers. There are many environments that Herzog takes us to that appear wholly alien. He shows us the odd world that exists under the sea ice and a frozen landscape that appears inhospitable, yet it attracts the most interesting people. Many of the researchers and workman that are spending the summer of 2006 in Antarctica carry with them very profound, and often very poetic, worldviews and philosophies. At the core of the film, however, lies a perplexing dichotomy of human determinism colliding with the chaotic randomness of nature.

Herzog likes to find chaos and violence in nature to show that the outside beauty is only an aesthetic. Nature is vile and putrid, like the microscopic organisms that a cell biologist studies under the Ross Ice Shelf. The biologist describes, in striking detail, all the mandibles, hooks, teeth, and tentacles that these tiny organisms use to rend and tear flesh. Life, at its most basic level, exists in a world of horror and violence. Yet it is easy for us to step away from it and observe the otherworldly beauty of the ice and its gleaming surfaces underwater or in the vents blown open by steam from a nearby volcano.

One discourse raised by the film really struck a chord with me: why it is human nature to attribute meaning to actions or forces that are seemingly without meaning. As a species, we seem programmed to want an explanation for everything. We want to know why the penguin, which leaves its group to embark on a suicidal three thousand mile march to the continent’s center, will always walk in that direction even if someone were to bring him back to the masses. Is he crazy? Delusional? Or does he know something we don’t? Herzog seems content to let the mystery be. It is more interesting to imagine why than to know why. That is true beauty.

The other striking example of this phenomenon is the science team performing research on neutrinos in the South Pole where there are no interfering electrical disturbances of the type found in the rest of the world. These particles are not well understood and are, in fact, barely identifiable. The lead scientist explains that he cannot explain them. They exist, he says, and he can measure them, but he cannot touch or manipulate them. It is as if they exist on another plain of the universe. Leave it to human beings to go to the end of the world with hundreds of thousands of dollars of technology to study a particle that barely exists and with no real purpose or gain in mind for the research. We do it just because we can, or feel we should.

A couple of the people we meet in Antarctica have stayed with me long after viewing the film. There is something enchanting about the Russian man who values his freedom so strongly after fleeing the Iron Curtain. He is unwilling to tell us about the escape, but he casually shows us the contents of a backpack which he keeps packed with everything he requires for survival, including an inflatable raft, so that he can leave at a moment’s notice. This man’s perception of freedom is something the rest of us could never fully appreciate. And I am deeply moved by the young linguist who became so distraught after personally witnessing the death of a language during the writing of his dissertation that he fled to the edge of the world, to a continent without any native languages. Herzog cites a very apt analogy comparing the loss of a language to the loss of species diversity; except an extinct language results in the loss of cultural diversity. Is either loss more devastating? A scientist would argue that the loss of a species is far more significant, because all life depends on biodiversity, and human beings become progressively threatened with each hit to the species pool. A philosopher, however, may argue that the loss of a culture is far more significant, because culture, after all, is what makes us unique. It is what identifies us as human.

I’m not sure why these two dreamers stand out in my mind. Perhaps they represent something profoundly fragile about the nature of human existence: an existence that Herzog, and many scientists, purport is unsustainable. This is, on one hand, very frightening, as we grant so much value to our history and culture, and the fear of losing it is alarming. Yet when we look at this assessment from a biological perspective, or even a universal perspective, it seems perfectly natural to view humanity as a definite period with a beginning and an end. I do not leave the film feeling pessimistic, or with a grim worldview. I leave with a calming confidence that not knowing all the answers is okay.

Professor P

Top Movies #7

Blade Runner (1982)

“It's too bad she won't live! But then again, who does?” – Gaff speaking about the fate of Deckard’s love interest

This quote establishes the prevalent tone of the film which constantly asks the question: what does it mean to be human? The story involves outlawed artificially-created humanoids (Replicants) that are hiding out in a futuristic Los Angeles. Like most Ridley Scott films, Blade Runner is a visual feast. Almost every shot manipulates exquisite palettes of rich dark colors in a convincingly dystopic environment that borrows, to a small degree, from Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. The special effects, which are entirely practical, still possess the power to astound and amaze. I am floored every time I watch the flying police cruiser sail pass the gargantuan smoke stacks which have clearly caused irreparable damage to the Los Angeles skyline, or when the cruiser passes by the skyscraper-sized video billboard that is advertising an all-too-familiar product. From a mere technical standpoint, the film is a monumental achievement.

There is minimal dialogue (especially in the director’s cut which omits Harrison Ford’s unnecessary voice-over work), but the dialogue that remains is witty, and often poetically cryptic, requiring the audience to ponder pieces of dialogue long after they are spoken. That is not to say that the dialogue is confusing: to the contrary, the script is full of philosophy that truly intrigues and excites. And the story contains so much depth and so much debate that most of it can be missed amongst the ever impressive city skyline. I have watched the film at least a dozen times and I still learn something new every time. Now that is a great film.

The film’s most moving moment comes near its conclusion, when the hunted replicant, Roy Batty, decides to save the life of Rick Deckard, the blade runner tasked with retiring him. Batty is only seconds from death: his artificial body has come to the end of its manufacturer’s designated life-span. Batty realizes that once he dies, his memories and experiences will disappear with him. All that he can leave in the world are the choices that he makes and influences he has had on others. So he decides to save a human life, not take it. This is the choice, the film suggests, this is the kind of empathetic understanding that makes humanity so unique. So in the final minutes proceeding this incident, Deckard decides to take a risk and run away with the woman he loves regardless of the fact that she is not human and may only have a few months to live. Deckard’s true origins are also questioned when he finds an origami unicorn, reminiscent of the one he secretly dreams about, left behind by a mysterious man who clearly knows something about Deckard we don’t. But it doesn’t really matter if Deckard is human because, in the end, he has made a choice that is unmistakably human.

Top Movies #6

Donnie Darko (2001)

“I promise, that one day, everything's going to be better for you.” – Donnie

Word of mouth for Richard Kelly’s Donnie Darko spread predominantly among the college crowd, and I would be hard-pressed to find someone over thirty that has even seen the film. Regardless, I cannot deny the impact that this film had on me the first time a saw it. This impact has only deepened upon further viewings. Perhaps it is the themes of Donnie Darko which appeal most to certain generations and groups, despite the fact that the story is set in the early 1980s. It is essentially a coming-of-age story of a misunderstood and wholly confused teenager who has been receiving cryptic messages about his destiny and the fate of the universe. The need for acceptance and purpose is not only expressed through Donnie: all the characters are out-of-place in their own way. Cherita wears earmuffs to block the constant criticism she feels victim to, but this only acts to disrupt her ability to communicate with others. An English teacher is fired for trying to instil critical thought amongst her students, while a science teacher cannot express his atheistic hypotheses about time travel for fear of losing his job. Roberta Sparrow, a lonely nonagenarian, routinely checks her mailbox for a letter that never arrives. In the end, everything is connected and everybody has a purpose. To this day. I am not sure that I fully understand the thematically convoluted and seemingly cyclical ending of the film. But what I take away from it is similar to the truths Donnie finally uncovers: a renewed hope and a sense of restorative beauty for the coming future.

Top Movies #5

Brazil (1985)

“This is your receipt for your husband... and this is my receipt for your receipt.” – Arresting Officer

Sam Lowry is having dreams. He dreams of flying free above the earth, soaring through clouds while experiencing supreme bliss. He finds the love of his life, the girl of his dreams, and goes to her. But she is taken captive below by a giant and his faceless army. Down below live huddled slaves, too afraid to do much of anything. The giant hacks off Lowry’s wings, making him slave to the surface world. Terry Gilliam uses these dream sequences in Brazil to represent Lowry’s inner turmoil as he constantly questions the truths and injustices in a heavily bureaucratic, corporate-run, dystopic future. The film is pure imagination. The giant is representative of the corporate-run, totalitarian state, while the slaves are obviously the blind population that has accepted its repression. The soldiers in Brazil are dressed to look like fascist troops. And while the film may borrow heavily from George Orwell’s 1984, the timeless themes and dry, dark humour instilled by Gilliam himself results in a distinctly original vision. There is no Big Brother here; just a pessimistic depiction of humanity having lost that which made it human. Although dreams and real hope for escape from this world have become Lowry’s ultimate obsession, his only true escape is into his own imagination.

TV Review: Battlestar Galactica Series Finale

Battlestar Galactica (2003-2009)

I promised a review of the series finale of Battlestar Galactica and here it is. I felt inclined to do this for everyone who has been held captive by one of televisions all time greatest shows for the last five years. There are many people out there who give us fans a hard time for watching the show. I should know: I was one of them. Eventually, these people will end up watching the show and feeling like complete assholes. Yes the show is science fiction and yes it involves a whole lot of robots. But there are no lasers. There are no beams of light that transport people down to planet surfaces. There are no aliens, or phasers, or people with wrinkly prosthetic foreheads. There is just humanity, what’s left of it after a nearly-complete holocaust, in a struggle to survive when all hope has been taken away. What’s left of humanity travels the cosmos in a small fleet of military and civilian survivors. Only one of these ships is a military one and it is the only one that possesses the power to defend the survivors. When the series opens, the Galactica is about to be decommissioned and renovated as a museum. The tourist gift shop has already been installed. So when the old beast must summon everything it has left in her to protect humanity’s survivors, you can’t help but wonder how long she could possibly hold out. In the series finale, she finally breaks. But it’s a good thing she lasted as long as she did, otherwise the world would have been without four seasons of the best television has to offer. Battlestar Galactica will go down as one of the greatest shows of all time: the writing, the characters, and the stories are consistently of the highest quality, and the show-runners made a smart decision to stop while they were ahead. From day one, the survivors, and the show itself, had one goal: to find a home. Now in the show’s final hours, that dream is realized and the end of these characters’ journey could not have been more satisfying.

SPOILER WARNING – This review assumes that the reader has watched the show and is familiar with its many plot twists and surprises.

Admiral Adama, the commander of Battlestar Galactica, has had a really tough run lately. He has had to deal with numerous mutinies and civilian uprisings that have threatened the safety of the entire fleet. His adopted daughter, Kara Thrace, died and then mysteriously reappeared. The one woman he has fallen in love with, during humanity’s darkest hours, is slowly dying of cancer. He has learned that his best friend and second-in-command is a cylon: an artificially-created organic robot (just think of the replicants from Blade Runner) who was implanted in the human colonies as a spy decades earlier. In fact, many of the ships key personnel turned out to by cylons. Over the course of the last few years, Adama has been shot, imprisoned, and had to make impossibly difficult decisions. An early episode forced Adama to order the destruction of a civilian vessel suspected to have been infiltrated by the enemy cylons after disappearing for a long period of time and then failing to respond to numerous radio hails upon its return. Thousands of innocent lives were assumed to be aboard the ship. These choices are all in a day’s work for Adama, who literally holds the fate of his species in his hands. That’s got to be a tough job. Finally, he gets a break in the show’s finale when the fleet finds a home.

Before they find a home, however, one more obstacle awaits the crew of the Galactica. Adama has learned that his ship is on its last legs. It can only manage a handful of faster-than-light jumps before it will crumple. With the odds of finding a planet hospitable for human settlement almost non-existent, Adama sends the fleet off to find a home as he takes Galactica on its final journey to rescue Hera. Hera is important, we are told. She is the first human-cylon hybrid baby of natural birth, and some believe she holds the key to humanity’s survival. The only problem is that the cylons believe that she also holds the key to their survival, so they have captured her and are holding her at the cylon home colony. It’s time for the show to spend whatever remains of its special effects budget.

The special effects in the episode’s bravura sequence are nothing short of spectacular. Adama rams the front end of Galactica into the side of the cylon colony and a daring rescue mission ensues. The show really had to end with a climax this big and this stunning. Once the audience’s action bone is satisfied, the show can move onto its even more impressive emotional climax.

Many questions are answered here, more than I was expecting. The opera house, Kara’s purpose, the number six cyclon Baltar thinks may be in his head, are all answered for. One scene that I found particularly evocative and shocking was Tyrol’s discovery that it was Tory, a fellow final five cylon, who had murdered his wife: a death once attributed to suicide. This causes an enraged Tyrol to grab Tory by the neck and kill her, destroying the one small chance of peace that had emerged in discussions with the antagonizing cylons and signaling the end of a cease-fire. The human survivors were so close to finding an end to their conflict, but all that was destroyed in seconds due to the basic human desire for revenge. It’s a theme that was introduced at the beginning of the series, when Adama decides to plan an all-out revenge on the cylons who have just destroyed the human home-worlds. The attack would have been suicidal, but the desire for revenge outweighed plain common sense. Roslin eventually talks Adama out of it, reminding him that the survivors need him and their safety is much more important to the survival of the human race than ill-advised revenge. The cylon attack on the colonies itself was an act of revenge. This highlights the show’s theme of the cyclical nature of human civilization: all that has happened has happened before and will happen again.

Just when it looks like the crew of Galactica is done for, Kara, with some guidance from Hera, saves the crew. Hera’s job was to write out the notes to a song that Kara, and some of the cylons, keep hearing in their heads. Kara translates the notes into numerical co-ordinates and jumps Galactica just in time. The ship's backbone is broken in the process and she will never jump again. Galactica, however, arrives at the most beautiful planet anyone could have imagined. In fact, it looks a lot like the Earth we know and love, but without all the lights and cities and pollution.

The survivors make an intriguing decision upon arriving at the new Earth: they decide to start again. They decide to bring everything that is good about humanity and leave all the bad. All the space ships are sent on an automated suicide run into the sun. This suggests that the survivors are at least trying to break free from the cycle that has brought them where they are.

One of the most touching scenes of the series comes to us in a final scene with Baltar, the narcissistic genius scientist who is ashamed of his agricultural heritage. He, and the rest of his family, were born into a culture of farming and manual labor. Baltar sees this work as beneath him, destined for those of lesser intellect. But having arrived at this new Earth, Baltar realizes that his skills as an intellectual are no longer as valuable as his upbringing as a farmer. “I know about farming,” he admits to a Caprica Six.

Of all the positive things that can be said about the show, none can be more pivitol than the performances of Edward James Olmos and Mary McDonnell as Bill Adama and Laura Roslin, respectively. They validate the show. The show is never more engaging than when Adama erupts in growling anger and never more touching than when Roslin brings him back to reality. This is their show.

The episode, and the series, ends with a hauntingly beautiful goodbye from Adama, now relinquished from military duty, who has fled what remains of his people to live by himself, away from everything, with his dying love, Roslin. It seems fitting that after dedicating so many years to protecting his species’ survival that this old man would want to simply be left alone, away from any form of human responsibility. Roslin passes away in the final moments and is buried atop a green hill, surrounded by a spectacularly gorgeous panorama. Adama sits and gazes out at the bright sunshine he has surely not seen in a long time.

“I laid out the cabin today. It’s going to have an Easterly view. You should see the light that we get here when the sun comes from behind those mountains. It’s almost heavenly. It reminds me of you.”

In a show that is predicated upon the interrelationship of faith and science, and the search for the nature of true humanity; in a show that asks us, in the real world, to question the difficult moral decisions that we and our leaders make, the final message is one of complete peace and calm. And of all the emotions that humanity, as depicted in the show, has displayed over the last five years, the series ends with the most essential one: love.

Professor P

Top Movies #4

Chinatown (1974)

“As little as possible.” – Jake Gittes

Roman Polanski’s Chinatown plays with classic film-noir conventions, mostly via Jack Nicholson’s character, Jake Gittes. He is a private detective hired to spy on the Los Angeles water department. The woman who hires him claims to be the wife of the department’s top engineer, but Gittes soon uncovers that she is not who she says she is. And neither is anybody else, really. He eventually uncovers a deeply wound web of deception, corruption, and murder. Gittes is advised to leave it be, but his stubbornness prevails, even after almost losing his nose.

The dialogue is full of wit, sarcasm, and is never afraid to push the limits of political correctness. The mystery is well crafted, and the film works by never letting Jack or the audience get one step ahead of the puzzles: the discoveries occur concurrently. But what is Chinatown? It is a place that the characters refer to only by memory or by mere hearsay. It is a place where illicit activities bear much less consequence, as many characters will warn others to do as little as possible when you are passing though. And that’s where Nicholson’s Jake Gittes fails. The whole film involves Gittes pursuit of the truth regarding a mystery that is constantly threatening his life with increasing danger. During the final confrontation in Chinatown, Gittes did not adhere to the advice to do as little as possible, and while the mystery is solved, it is his own intervention that inevitably results in the film’s final tragedy. But hey Jake, it’s Chinatown.

Review: Splinter (2008)

Splinter (2008)

I just saw this independent horror film from last year and thought others might find it interesting. I saw some very brief advertising for it last Halloween, but never noticed whether or not it was playing in cinemas. It looked promising: some sort of parasite that produced splinter-like black spores that slowly (or rapidly) took over the human body and made people do crazy things.

So how was it? Well, for what it was, it was pretty good. I may even go as far as to say it was one of the best horror films I have seen this year. Of course, that isn't saying very much. The only other one that may be better is The Last House on the Left remake, which I technically saw last year at a test screening. This year's horror offerings so far have been akin to last years push to put out a shitty Kate Hudson-starring romantic attempt-at-comedy every month. We have had The Unborn, The Uninvited, The Unwatchable, and then of course the Haunting of you-name-the-state. Having not seen any of those, I can assure you anyway that Splinter was better.

The first thing you need to do is accept the fact that the creature is kind of silly. Luckily, the lead character is working on his biology PhD and can therefore offer us, the audience, some insight as to how this fungus creature works from a practical standpoint. It doesn't take a person with a biology degree to see through the obvious bullshit, but if you go with it the film is actually kind of fun.

Here's what works. The writing is solid, but not great. The actors make up for this for the most part. Shea Whigham, who plays the bad boy trying to escape the law by fleeing to Mexico, in particular, is very effective. Especially if you do not watch Lost and can't help but liken his Southern accent to a bad Josh Holloway impression. However, he did a great job with the part.

The effects are admittedly low budget, but effective if you are willing to go along with body parts that seem to have a life of their own once infected with the parasite. Some of the larger effects are filmed with the standard shaky camera and quick editing that prevents us from really seeing how cheap the effects actually were. But the shakiness isn't excessive and it actually works by heightening the tension in some key sequences.

The best thing I can say about the film is that it does not outstay its welcome. At 82 minutes, it is not a second too long, and the running time allows the film to make the most of its premise without bogging itself down by filling time with unnecessary character exposition and dialogue. So kudos for not wasting my time.

It's not a great movie, but you'll have fun and it sure beats anything else that the world of horror film has to offer right now.

Professor P

Top Movies #3

The Wild Bunch (1969)

“We all dream of being a child again, even the worst of us. Perhaps the worst most of all.” – Dan Jose

The opening of Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch works in two subtle, but fundamental ways. Firstly, it sets up a metaphor and theme that will continue throughout the film and, finally, be mirrored in the climax. Children poke and prod at a hopelessly defeated handful of scorpions who are trying desperately to fight off a swarm of ants. The scorpions remain dignified and unified, despite their doomed fate. Secondly, the opening acutely references, and re-envisions Westerns of the classic era, in particular: John Ford’s My Darling Clementine. The bunch ride into town as a local band plays “Shall We Gather at the River,” reminiscent of the quintessential moment of Clementine when, to the same piece of music, Wyatt Earp leads the heroine to the foundations of the soon-to-be-built town church where dancing and celebration follows. The scene is a symbol of law and order, in the form of religion, being bestowed upon the savage, untamed frontier.

The frontier in The Wild Bunch, however, is very much settled: church and all the rest. These aging outlaws are blatantly out of place in this settled landscape, and all they can do is reminisce about a time when they were young, and the land was theirs to spoil. The film is a look back upon a genre that has perhaps ran its course by this time. The ending once again pits the few scorpions against an army of ants. The only escape for Pike Bishop and the Bunch is death, through which he and the bunch will achieve a form of redemption that abides by their code of loyalty and honor. Pike and the Bunch die while fighting an evil that is ultimately more savage then they are, and, thus, they take on self-liberating attributes. Pike chooses death not because he is unwilling to change his ways, but because the options he has left are undesirable in the face of a past history wrought with regret. Wherever he goes and no matter what aspirations he pursues, he is bound by memories (told in flashbacks) of humiliation and betrayal. The future for the Bunch promises only more corruption typical of Peckinpah’s civilizing social progression. To avoid the confrontation with the evil Mexican general, Mapache, would be to add another shameful, guilty memory to his legend.

And besides, violence itself is a trap: a self-reinforcing relationship between the negative consequences for both perpetrator and victim. In this way, the victims of Pike’s past - the married lover, Aurora, the captured partner,Thornton, and the innocents that died in the crossfire at the Starbuck massacre that opens the film - all culminate into a final bloody battle for redemption. The woman who shoots Pike in the back is a reminder of his misplaced trust in Aurora, while the child that delivers the fatal wound is a symbol of the spreading influence of violence Pike himself pioneered on future generations. But Pike was true to the code in a final effort to rescue their fellow outlaw, Angel, and he fell before a hostile, inhospitable future could enslave him further.

Although the film often overshadows some of Peckinpah’s other excellent works like Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia and The Ballad of Cable Hogue, The Wild Bunch is nonetheless a monumental piece of filmming that consistently rewards after every viewing and has truly stood the test of time.

Review: Knowing (2009)

Knowing (2009)

This film was advertised as a science-fiction film, but I assure you it is not. Spoiler warning: it is a bible story. Not that this is bad thing. To be more specific, the film is a Noah's arc parable. Only God has been replaced by some angelic, glowing white aliens that come to earth disguised as Malcolm McDowell lookalikes (the older white-haired version). But I suppose that's still better than Alanis Morissette. I think Nicholas Cage plays Noah, being the only one who believes the world is coming to an end, but the ending comes with a surprise twist for his character that deftly diverges from the source material.

Now I realize I am making it sound like the films biblical ties were detrimental to my experience. That is not entirely true. In fact, I found the films final conclusions to be a very satisfying and natural destination for many of the films initial plot lines and setups. It worked. It just wasn't particularly interesting because we have all heard this story before. It wasn't the absurdity of the films final revelations that hurt it. It was the blandness, the lack of creativity. The film is actually pretty interesting for the first few acts, despite an onslaught of blatantly obvious this-will-be-important-later moments. But you cannot say the film does not have an interesting premise.

Nicolas Cage plays John Koestler, an astro physics professor who likes to debate the purpose of life in his classroom instead actually teaching astro physics. He is a widower and atheist who has lost his faith, and his father is a priest. His son receives a mysterious letter from a time capsule uncovered at school that accurately predicts both past and future catastrophes. Gee, I wonder what his character arc is going to be. Something tells me his faith may be restored before the film's final credits.

And that's what the whole film feels like. Just a little too safe a predictable. There a handful of incredibly produced, but uncomfortably familiar, disaster scenes that really shine. It's in those moments that you feel you might be watching something special. The film is also elevated by the fact that Nicolas Cage appears to be sporting his natural hair for the first time since The Rock. But all that just isn't enough. In the final moments, when Nic Cage decides to accept his fate and reconcile with his priest father just seconds before humanity is wiped out, you realize that you don't need a letter with mysterious numbers to figure what's going to happen Next.

Professor P

Top Movies #2

Oldboy (2003)

“Laugh and the world laughs with you. Weep and you weep alone.”
– Oh Dae-su

The emotional experience of watching Park Chan-wook’s Oldboy is akin to a direct punch in the gut. Oh Dae-su, a middle-aged drunk and irresponsible father and husband, is kidnapped without warning and taken to a motel room prison. He is kept there for fifteen years as he watches history go by via a television set and trains himself for revenge upon his escape. He is slowly digging through the outside wall with a chop-stick. But then he is suddenly released, with a nice new suit and a wallet full of money. Revenge is all he can think about, but first he must uncover why he was imprisoned. Who hates him enough to do this? He soon finds that he is asking the wrong question. The important question is not why was he imprisoned, but why was he released. The movie cleverly brings you deep within the lives and emotions of the protagonists, and just when your appetite for vengeance reaches its wettest, the film slams you back with a revelation that is as painful and shocking as it is heart-wrenching and provocative. The film uses a unique visual style that helps it transcend its multiple timelines and story arcs. The interplay of sound and style allows for some of the most innovative scene transitions in recent cinematic history, giving the film an incredibly original look. The soundtrack is simply haunting and beautiful. But if there is one single reason to see this movie, it is for the powerfully humbling performance of Choi Min-sik as Oh Dae-su. His performance in the final scenes of the film is utterly soul-shattering.

Top Movies #1

Unforgiven (1992)

“That's right. I'm just a fella now. I ain't no different than anyone else no more.” – Will Munny

Unforgiven explores the descent of the western legend, William Munny, into the Everyman, and his inability to escape the woes of his past; both his violent history and his late wife haunt him. After decades of alcohol-fueled slayings, Munny found a woman to cure him of his wickedness and domesticate him to ways of family life. Now alone with two young children, Munny is compelled to pick up arms again and collect a bounty that would ensure a better future for his children. William Munny represents the demythologized West: a reality inhabited by a legend that has descended into a sympathetic civilized man, but is compelled through a series of inescapable events to reconstruct the demons of his past.

There are few films that work so perfectly for me as Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven. The film lingers with an impending sense of dread as events unfold. When the tension finally breaks during the final confrontation between William Munny and Little Bill, what follows is, for me, one of the most powerful, revealing moments in cinematic history. The tight cinematography, Eastwood’s haunting monologue, and a climax of narrative irony culminate in a timeless message about morality and violence that transcend the Western genre, while simultaneously paying tribute to Western films of the past.

The most interesting aspect of the film for me deals with the construction of the Western hero and the embellishment of history; the troubled formation of myth and legend. The topic of mythology is vividly explored through the character of Mr. Beauchamp, a pulp novelist who recounts the exploits of famous gunslingers. When first introduced in the film, he is writing the biography of English Bob, who is beaten and imprisoned by Big Whisky’s sadistic sheriff, Little Bill. During this time, Little Bill comically reads excerpts from Bob’s biography. Bill informs Beauchamp that most of the stories Bob had been telling him were greatly exaggerated and the truth was much less noble and more pathetic. At this point, Beauchamp switches allegiances to Little Bill, whom he now perceives as the more talented gunman. Beauchamp represents the theme of mythologizing the past in a way that appears morally motivated, honorable and, especially, entertaining. Although Little Bill condemns English Bob’s interpretation of events, it is implied that Bill’s stories are no more authentic. Beauchamp’s reading of the Western hero is effectively challenged in the final scene when William Munny usurps Little Bill as the most gifted gunslinger. Beauchamp is instantly fascinated and quizzes Munny about the specifics of the shootout. Munny explains, “I was lucky in the order.” Unfortunately, luck and coincidence do not facilitate an interesting tale, and this contradicts Beauchamp’s notions of chivalry in gunfights.

William Munny’s code, itself, begins as a product of his wife’s influence: she “cured him of drink and killing.” Although the film begins after and she has passed, the weight of her impact on Munny can be constantly felt. Whenever he feels threatened by the consequences of alcohol or violence, he reflectively cites the calming influence his wife had on his careless nature. Even when sick with the flu Munny, refuses a sip of whiskey to kill the cold. He realizes that even a taste of the drink might rekindle the cold-blooded reckless man that he has hid away. Prior to marriage, Munny was without code, loyal only to his partner Ned and unafraid of lawmen and outlaws alike. He killed because he was drunk and he lived without purpose. His wife gave him purpose and code, at odds with his violent nature. It is significant that later in the film, when Munny once again transforms into the alcohol-fueled killer, he does so with a sense of personal justice that was lacking in his younger years. And after the vengeful deed is complete, the film’s final scroll suggests Munny moved to San Francisco to pursue a peaceful life with his children. His transition from outlaw to dry goods is a hopeful one, although his new acceptance of civilization is in stark opposition with his violent past.

When his longtime companion, Ned, is tortured to death, Munny is left with very little opportunity to reflect upon these sentiments or the consequences to his reformed moral state. Like “The Man With No Name” who came before him, Munny simply exhibits the cold-bloodiness of a killer and avenger. There is no emotion in his face when he appears in the saloon to exact his revenge. The frame focuses on his cold staring eyes. Emotionless, like the stranger of Leone’s films, Munny speaks simply through his stare. This makes the killing of the unarmed Skinny (the owner of the saloon/bordello who “decorated” the front of his establishment with Munny’s friend) all the more startling. “He should have armed himself then,” Munny responds. Before Munny delivers the coup de grace, Little Bill protests, “I don’t deserve this, to die like this…” Munny, with his cold glaring eyes again filling the screen, clarifies, “Deserve’s got nothing to do with it.” Deserve has everything to do with it, and that is precisely why Munny was unable to escape his final confrontation, not only with Little Bill, but with the cold-hearted murderer that he will always carry around inside of him.

As Munny’s departs Big Whisky after the massacre, we are left with Beauchamp chasing shadows from one mythology to another. Thus, the study of mythology itself deals in conflicts. The old gunfighter with his code is in conflict with the mythology of the new civilized West that no longer has a place for the talents of vigilantes. The conflict exists between not only the gunfighter and the lawful citizen, but between the individuals themselves. These men leave behind an old age where what you do typifies you, and enter a new world where what you feel or express typifies you; a world that has no place for a bunch of wild outlaws or a man with no name.

Welcome

Thank you for visiting the web's hottest new blog. Here you will find a wide variety of topics ranging from movies, television, music, and books to current events and philosophy. Along the way you may run into some humor. It won't be an easy journey, but you might just find it one worth taking. Welcome to Lies and Gasoline.



To start things off, I will be posting a review of Battlestar Galactica's season finale that aired last Friday night. As media or news stories or even just random thoughts invade my crowded consciousness, I will post them here for your entertainment. Please feel free to comment on them or add your own opinions.



There will be monthly specials or themes at this blog. I will kick this segment off with daily postings of my top 30 favorite films list. One per day. But unlike regular lists of this sort, I am starting with number one.



Also on this blog, you will find information about many of the stories I am working on that will eventually become completed screenplays. Weekly updates on this topic will follow.



So I guess that's it for now. Good luck and lie away.



Professor P