Golden Globes Part 2: Do they actually mean … anything?

I’m going to let my better judgment get the best of me. Don’t act so surprised — it happens from time-to-time. Last night, while watching a bunch of Tribeca submissions (and finally getting to a film that surprised the hell out of me, keeping me laughing for virtually its entire 90 minutes), I began writing this second collection of Golden Globes thoughts; one based on the awards themselves rather than the pitiful excuse for a show that attracted fewer viewers than the People’s Choice Awards. But as I started furiously punching at the keyboard, I suddenly thought to myself … Who cares? Oh, I mean, I know you already likely didn’t care; but suddenly I didn’t as well. I found myself agreeing completely with Eugene from indieWIRE: “Thank you, writers.” Whatever good will hopefully come out of the WGA strike as well as whatever hardships have already been created for much of Hollywood, at least this one minor tiny positive thing was revealed clearer than ever: even as the HFPA has managed to long receive more press notice than any other “critics” group, no organization is less reputable in handing out such awards nor less worthy of such attention.

You don’t even have to go so far as questioning who won what, but it’s certainly easy to do so. Billy Bush, as I described yesterday in detail, couldn’t have sounded more stupid, however he did say one thing that was dead one when he mentioned that the HFPA likes to “spread things around.” They also like to try to show an independent or rebellious streak, but everything is planned so as not to alienate the big stars or major studios. And so, you see No Country For Old Men bringing the Coen brothers a Best Screenplay prize, but Atonement winning Best Picture – Drama and Julian Schnabel taking Best Director. That’s not specifically a criticism of either film: I loved The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and I think it marked a giant leap forward for Schnabel; and I liked Atonement quite a bit, actually, but it is a serious Awards contender less thanks to standout cinematic excellence than to a less disturbing storyline.

Their credibility is shot by the simple fact that even their categories make absolutely no sense anymore. Splitting the Best Picture, Best Actor and Best Actress categories into Drama and Musical/Comedy is, at this point, so wrong for so many reasons. Why aren’t the Director, Screenplay and especially Supporting Actor/Actress prizes split if the primary idea behind doing so is to judge relative quality on a more level playing field? Why are the Drama prizes considered more worthwhile? But more importantly, why are musicals automatically lumped in with comedies. This year, not one of the Musical/Comedy winners had anything to do with comedy. Sure, Sweeney Todd has some macabre, darkly comedic moments, but it is not in any way a comedy. Regardless of how great Marion Cotillard may be in La Vie en Rose (I have not seen the film, yet I’ve heard she’s sensational), it is in no way a comedic performance. Why shouldn’t her performance — in a film that is arguably not even a musical — or all of Sweeney Todd be in the Drama category? Tim Burton’s movie is better than at least four of the overblown seven Drama nominees anyway.

But it’s not actually about awarding excellence, for whatever that’s worth anyway. It’s about staying on the good side of every network and studio so that when the next year rolls around, the HFPA can make a shitload of money by allowing Dick Clark Productions and NBC to produce their little party, and by having its members courted all winter long with SWAG and junkets and free stuff. The Golden Globes are a racket; they’re a producer of graft; and while celebrating Daniel Day-Lewis’ win, Mad Men receiving the Best Drama TV series prize and other deserving winners should still be done, it would be better to bury the Globes than to honor them. While they once had a significant influence over who might receive Oscar nominations, thankfully, Academy balloting has for the last several years had their deadline before the Globes were announced, so a Globe win is no longer an automatic Oscar nomination. Thank goodness for small favors.

The Golden Globes: One hour seemed more than enough, and way too much Bush

It’s almost pointless to critique — positively or otherwise — The Golden Globes. The Hollywood Foreign Press becomes a more laughable and pandering award-bestowing organization every year, and the awards not-handed-out tonight — with its seven Best Dramatic Picture nominations and the Best Musical/Comedy Picture category proving more than ever before how inane it is to automatically have those two broad genres combined — were no less absurd than any other year, and possibly more so. I don’t mean to imply that the various winners (or at least most of them) weren’t deserving, but the obvious methodology this relatively small group of foreign critics and journalists use to determine who gets the tiny statuettes has always been based more on pandering, swag and the continued desire for prestige than anything honest. And every year around this time, we always have to remind ourselves that the only reason the Golden Globes have become as big a deal as they have is because the HFPA was able to sell a TV show and throw a party. Well, without either this year, the awards themselves were even more front-and-center, and that, as usual, wasn’t really a good thing.

And besides … what the hell was that? Do you think people in that studio and at NBC were congratulating each other for a job well done? I’m not intimating that producing the kind of show they were forced to do tonight was easy, but it certainly would be easier with less brain-dead hosts than Nancy O’Dell and (especially) Billy Bush.

Actually, critiquing the awards themselves is almost less interesting than simply paying attention to some of the more ridiculous things that came out of Bush’s mouth. If there was ever any doubt that Billy is related to our not-so-well-spoken president, it was certainly laid to rest during this broadcast, which somehow felt even less informative and entertaining than an episode of the talking heads’ own Access Hollywood. Take, for example, the commentary after Sweeney Todd was announced as the winner of the Best Motion Picture – Comedy/Musical award when Bush said, “Tim Burton and Johnny Depp: when you get that kind of collaboration, between Scorsese and DiCaprio or something, it just seemed to be able to pull it off together.” Now, I won’t pay any mind to the lack of any sort of coherence within the English language, let’s just look at the great historical actor/director pairing Bush chooses to utilize as a comparison to Burton/Depp — Scorsese and DiCaprio. Because yes, folks — when people who know anything about film history are going to choose great director and actor collaborations, including modern ones that the average moviegoer would remember, Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio certainly jumps to mind first. No disrespect to Leo — who I enjoy as an actor; I was one of the relatively few to applaud his performance in The Aviator when he seemed to bug a lot of people — but I’m pretty sure even he would have had to have a little chuckle at that one. OK fine — James Stewart and Terrence Mann might have been a bit too obscure for today’s audience. Even John Ford and John Wayne might not have worked. But Molly Ringwald and John Hughes would have been a better comparison to use if you’re going to pair Martin Scorsese with someone other than Robert De Niro! I mean … really? And he gets paid a lot of money to spew that blather?

But wait … there’s so much more …

Continue reading “The Golden Globes: One hour seemed more than enough, and way too much Bush”

Happy New Year! Tardy Resolutions Due to Figuring Out How to Drink Your Milkshake! DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINAGE!

What’s 11 days between friends? Who’s to say that all new year challenges/resolutions/goals/what-have-you need to start on January 1? Sure, that’s the easy way out, but just think how much more fun it could be to hold off on all those resolutions until, say, oh, I don’t know … the end of the second week of the month? Follow?

Fine. So I’m just here trying to rationalize the fact that I have spent 11 days of 2008 ready to sit down and focus on writing again, ready to stare at that blankish white screen and resume my fanatical commentaries, and yet, it’s not until another sleepless night at 4:20 AM that I’m really able to let my fingers commence their verbal marathons. I’ve neglected “Out of Focus” for way too long, and I’ve written about neglecting “Out of Focus” far too often. Resolution #1, therefore, is that no longer (after this post) will I publicly commiserate as to the fact that I haven’t had time to publicly pontificate.

Of course, for those of you with the patience and kindness to continue to follow this space, you will know that I have made previous claims to returning my focus and attention to regular writing, for better or worse, and here yet again, I will cry wolf one more time, but as was the case when I started this blog nearly four (holy crap, really?!) years ago, I’m not necessarily sure what that attention will be, nor how successful I will be at retaining it. When I started this blog, I was bored out of my mind in a job I hated. Now, I’m in the exact opposite situation — far from bored in a job I (most of the time) really like. And yet, said job makes it difficult to sometimes write about certain films, especially ones that instigate my own personal bubbling bile that lead to my own personal favorite rants.

And yet (again) … I still have a lot to say, a lot I want to say, a lot someone may or may not care about, and a lot of discussions in which I want to participate. So my goal for 2008 is simply one of consistency and balance. Can I achieve a goal when to most I’ve already failed at it? Of course. As one of my many muses describes in her great piece on The Huffington Post, she’s taking things now “one day at a time,” and if today doesn’t go well, there’s always tomorrow. It’s odd how I’ve always managed to use that very same philosophy in certain areas but completely disregard it when flogging myself for not following through in others.

So that brings us to Resolution #2 (also not exactly new): to return this space to one mostly devoid of posts like this. I never intended to keep an online journal, nor do I want to now. This is a space to look at film and television and theater; a site that may occasionally discuss music or books or sports or politics; a corner of the web that may infrequently discuss this or that going on in my life, but not when all the content is as infrequent as it has been.

And there is so much about which to write far more interesting than my ability to procrastinate, most notably, the thing so many have already written about. Like Filmbrain and many others, I am thoroughly obsessed with Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood, not only hands-down by leaps-and-bounds by far the best film of 2007, but I would argue the best film of the current decade. As has been my tradition for the past two years, my top film of one year is the first film I watch in the New Year, so after seeing Blood on Dec. 26 at the AMC Lincoln Square, I knew I would need to head back to the Upper West Side some time on Jan. 1. And I did. I’ve seen in twice — I’m dying to see it again.

And The Wire, arguably the best television series of the decade, has resumed for its final season, to kick off a year when an unfortunate, but worthwhile, strike may see us starved for anything good come summer and after. And after moving from a Time Warner neighborhood to a Cablevision one, I’ve become so frustrated with the latters crappy DiVo that I have finally upgraded to the real thing, the non-generic TiVo service, with multiple machines on my multiple screens. And the FCC has actually taken-on the cable company monopolies in a good way. And no longer am I watching everything in sepia-tones on my 14-year-old piece of shit TV. And my Niners totally blew again, arguably worse than before. And I’m hoping for an Obama-Richardson administration that will feature Secretary of State Joe Biden. And I went on a theater binge in November and December that was a bit ridiculous. And I’m waist-deep now in work, screening submissions and trying to devise a theater and screening plan for Tribeca that hopefully everyone will enjoy (we have some new things in store that are quite exciting, in fact). And is anyone else as happy as I that at least one good thing has come out of the writers’ strike so far? That the Hollywood Foreign Press has had to give up their little party that always showcases their absurd organization as being far more important than it is? And … and … and ….

You get the idea. So, I won’t tell you to buckle up; and aside from the plan to post my best (and worst) of 2007 comments in the next week or two, I’m just going to go with the flow, and hopefully, just like the sun and the moon and the tides, the flow will be regular and the ebb will be temporary.

Happy New Year all. Here we go … I think.

Adding My Voice to the Chorus of Hosanas

I’m not going to take the time right now to write a full review of No Country For Old Men, the latest film from the Coen Brothers which opens today. Suffice it to say, when I saw it at a New York Film Festival press screening last month, I was simply blown away. It is easily one of the best films of 2007, and it most certainly rivals Fargo — in my book — for the best of their work. In fact, I hesitate to say “rivals” instead of “surpasses.”

Unlike many literary adaptations from books that interest me, I did not refrain from seeing the film until after reading Cormac McCarthy’s novel, but since seeing the film, I am anxious to dig into its paper-based counterpart and source material. I’m going to refrain from writing in detail about the film until after I’ve had that literary comparison just because it’s more fun for me that way. But regardless of how much I do or don’t like McCarthy’s novel, my love for this film.

No Country For Old Men has obviously stayed with me for quite a while. I’m always most fascinated by movies that take standard genre elements and then mix, merge and match in order to create something new. It’s obviously something the Coens have been doing since their first three movies. Blood Simple, Raising Arizona and Miller’s Crossing forcefully announced a duo with a unique and fascinating sensibility and imagination. Blood Simple was their take on noir, but it now also seems to be something akin to a scientific control: that one element that arguably can be found in all their work; an exploration of the darker sides of human character, even in their good guys. My favorite Clint Eastwood directing effort has always been The Unforgiven because of the masterly way he took the two most American of film genres — film noir and the traditional Western — and combined them into something utterly fresh and unique. While not a “traditional” Western nor noir in the least and taking plenty of cues from Hitchcock and other suspense traditions, No Country For Old Men signifies a similar achievement to me — the pinnacle of what the Coens have been doing for nearly a quarter of a century now.

Go see it.

Jury Duty Which I Actually Enjoyed

Tonight might be the opening of the Seventh Annual Mahindra Indo-American Arts Council Film Festival in New York, but it’s a first for me. My friend Payal Sethi (who worked last year at Tribeca with me) is the festival’s programmer, and a few weeks ago, she asked if I’d like to be on one of their juries. Of course I said yes. My first festival jury; kicking back to watch some Bollywood; sounds great!

Of course, the seven films I had to watch turned out to not really be traditional Bollywood in the least. In fact, not one of them was a musical. A couple had some songs, but not in the standard song-and-dance number way. But that actually made it all more interesting: to see the kind of Indian cinema that likely doesn’t come to mind, at least to those who don’t follow it. As I was telling people that I had to watch Indian films all weekend, everybody obviously thought I was subjecting myself (for better or worse — depends on your perspective, I suppose) to multiple three-plus hour movies filled with flowing saris and lip-synched production numbers.

The jury deliberation experience was an interesting one even though my colleagues and I seemed to mostly agree without too much debate on our selections. I don’t feel like I can really say which films I enjoyed the most because that would indicate what won the Best Film and Best Director prizes, so I’ll come back to talk about the films in more detail after the winners are announced on Sunday night. The films under consideration for those prizes which I had to watch were Dosar, Frozen, Manorama Six Feet Under, Missed Call, Valley of Flowers, Via Darjeeling and The Voyeurs. (You can buy tickets to any of these films online at meraticket.com.)

I’d encourage you to take a look at the film descriptions and check-out a few of them. The festival also features a large number of short films playing as part of various programs. The most fascinating thing to me about all these films was the various approaches towards stories much like the ones in American mainstream and other Westerncinema. From Manorama‘s homage to Chinatown to Dosar‘s almost Sirkian qualities; Valley of Flowers‘ reminded me in a way of The Fountain while Via Darjeeling utilized its own twist on the consistently mimicked Rashomon-tale. (Yes, I know Rashomon is Japanese! Hence the “consistently mimicked” descriptive phrase.) The Voyeurs creates its own mix of a slice-of-life tale with some “peeping Tom”/Rear Window elements. Frozen, for some reason, had me thinking, “This is what Terrence Malick might shoot if he ever decided to do black & white in the Himalayas.” And Missed Call certainly owes a lot to every first-person diary film or, to a degree, mockumentary about young-adult angst and relationships. And yet, all of them have their own specific perspective grounded in the place and the culture from which they come. And not a one has a big dance number, thereby blowing your perception of everything Bollywood, right?

But who am I to tell you: go see for yourself, and next week, you can argue with me over the winning films if you disagree.

Pausing for Podcasts: Radiolab Digs Through the Dirt

As I’ve discussed before, I’m addicted to Podcasts. In an era where polemical talk radio dominates the airwaves and in a city like New York where most of us barely listen to radio because we don’t drive to work each day, for me, the “Podcast” as an entity has had quite an impact. I’ve always listened to NPR here and there, but I’ve never had the chance to listen to some programs (and discover others) as regularly as since discovering podcasts two or three years ago.

One of the best radio shows around is WNYC’s Radiolab. If absence truly does make the heart grow fonder, people should be fondest of Radiolab. The hour-long program which uses science to look at a variety of interesting subjects is produced in seasons of only five episodes each. Maybe the amount of time and care taken to produce each hour is why the show is so damn fascinating and phenomenal. I have yet to listen to an episode that hasn’t kept me riveted. As I only discovered the show a few months ago, everything is still new to me.

The episodes are rebroadcast on WNYC every two weeks, and then posted as podcasts . I just got around to listening to one episode that was posted at the end of September but originally aired in April 2006. The episode is called “Detective Stories”. The episode is summarized on their web site as follows:

Forensics, archeology, genealogy, and genetics are devoted to figuring out what really happened. In this hour, we hear surprising stories of playing detective and finding that what really happened in the past is not at all what you’d expected. We start at a trash dump in Egypt, where we find Jesus, Satan, sissies, and porn. Next, the mystery of why hundreds of old letters written to the same woman were discovered on the side of Route 101. And lastly, a blood sampling tour of Asia reveals a prolific baby-maker and potentially a world conqueror.

The final two stories are particularly fascinating. I found myself laughing out loud in the grocery store last night during parts of “Goat on a Cow,” only minutes after being saddened by the central events in the story. And the implications presented in “Genghis Kahn” are no less jaw dropping.

Give Radiolab a try. It’s another one of those radio shows that proves why at one time even television was considered to possibly be simply nothing more than a fad that could never completely replace radio. Just like talkies!

Out of Focus Up-to-Date

I feel like a month just flat out disappeared. Is that what happened? I mean, last thing I know, I’m back from Toronto, preparing to move apartments, trying to get to New York Film Festival press screenings, and suddenly … it’s November 1. I suppose moving, buying a bunch of stuff for the new apartment, overbooking myself with screenings and theater, the IFP Market, a promotion at work and learning that my new apartment is “officially” an electric deathtrap (while further learning that NYC “code” for circuits, outlets and the like is something that I’ve never seen in any NYC rental apartment that I nor anyone I know has ever lived in!) all may have some influence on the fact that October 2007 will for a long time remain one big blur.

It’s amazing how unsettled and utterly discombobulated I become from an apartment move. By no means do I think I’m unique; picking-up ones life and moving it is a disruption regardless of the distance, but I think I manage to handle it all particularly poorly. I still don’t know where plenty of the things I need are. Searching for them haphazardly by rummaging through boxes is — as I should know all-to-well in my 36 years of life and well-over 15 moves — not particularly efficient. And so, lots of things have fallen by the wayside.

And yet, through it all, I have found a wee bit of time to play several Scrabulous games, getting my ass particularly handed to me on a platter by my porn magazine editor friend! See, who said porn mags aren’t about words and stories!

THIS JUST MEANS I’VE BEEN WRITING THIS BLOG TOO LONG

This is the fourth time that I have posted on Sept. 21. That means it’s the fourth time I’ve posted on my birthday. I remember when I started this blog a little over three-and-a-half years ago how I felt I was joining the party late. There were all these people who had already been writing in various forms on the web for one, two, three, even five years or more. And yet, when it came time for the indieWIRE film blogger panel nearly two years ago, Eugene Hernandez (who was moderating) introduced Andrew Grant and I as some of the first film bloggers about whom he, at least, had become aware. We were the old fogeys of the panel, and not just cause we were somewhere close to old.

I haven’t exactly been the most consistent blogger or writer or whatever-I-should-be-called since I staked claim to this little corner of the webiverse in February 2004. I don’t know if it’s because of a weird degree of over-ambition — always wanting to do more, but often not sitting down to do it — or the fact that some days, I love to write, and others, there is absolutely nothing I would like to do less. I do know, however, that as I look upon this birthday, I think this blog is, in fact, somewhat representative of the last four years of my life. For better or (more often) worse. It’s had its ups and downs. I’ve sometimes ignored it due to busy-ness; other times out of pure laziness. I’ve occasionally worked very hard on it and been quite conscientious covering and writing everything I’ve intended; other times, I’ve let things slide until they’re so old, I just give-up on them. Some of the time, this blog has been exactly the way I’ve wanted it to be; others … not so much, and in fact, exactly the opposite.

Today I’m 36 years old. That is utterly unimaginable. If I didn’t know it was true, I would say it was also completely impossible. I’ve been in New York for nearly 11 years. I’ve had lots of ups and downs while here. So I take solace in reminding everyone that I share date-and-year with Alfonso Ribeiro! come on and admit it … you’re jealous! Me and Carlton! I wonder who’s actually older. That’s even cooler than the fact that I also share date-and-year birthday with Luke Wilson! Yes it is. Stop it. Yes. OK … maybe not. But yes it is!

Continue reading “THIS JUST MEANS I’VE BEEN WRITING THIS BLOG TOO LONG”

GOOD ON NBC, BUT HERE’S HOW GREAT IDEA COMPRIMISES GET ALL SCREWED UP

I don’t know about you, but I find myself incredibly enthusiastic about Bill Carter’s story in today’s NY Times detailing NBC’s plan to offer free downloads — not streaming — of many of its series. Of course, I am annoyed that this service won’t be available to all of us Mac users until the unspecified “later,” but it’s still a step in the right direction. There are so many problems with streaming large, long pieces of video content, but it’s understandable that the networks don’t want to give whole episodes away for free forever. So NBC is making the files available for seven days past broadcast premiere and then the files essentially self-destruct. The files will have embedded commercials that can’t be skipped. If one wants to keep the episode, it will be available for purchase. A purchased version would drop the advertisements..

I hate having to spend $1.99 — or anything — on one episode of a series because that’s the only way I have to see it. I buy a lot of DVDs but not a lot of series television. No matter how much I love most of the series to which I find myself addicted, I’m not a huge repeat viewer of television. But every now and then, I may want that one episode of Rescue Me or Eureka, or to be specific to NBC, Heroes, 30 Rock, My Name Is Earl, etc. These are all series which I would be quite unlikely to purchase.

How do ideas like these get complicated? By naysayer business analysts like Chris Crotty, quoted by Carter as saying the NBC idea “is a stretch.” Carter goes on to say that Crotty apparently explains, “that it would not be attractive to consumers to have to range far and wide over a number of services to find the programs they want to download.”

I’m not going to deny that having one central clearinghouse to find everything you need is nicer, but … Hey asshole! If I have to go to each individual network to get a free episode rather than spending lots of money to get lots of paid episodes that I don’t need to keep forever, I would prefer to have that degree of choice. Crotty also says that consumers view NBC as “highly greedy” for leaving iTunes. That may be fair. And I’m a huge lover of Apple — a cult-member, if you will — but who knows what really went on in those negotiations. Would Apple have allowed NBC to leave its series on iTunes if they were also offering free downloads for seven days? Maybe. Maybe not. Is Apple protecting the consumer by keeping its single-tiered pricing system, and is NBC trying to gouge us with variable pricing. Maybe. But to me, this system is all upside with the only true and meaningful downside being that it won’t be available to me yet.

So kudos NBC. And other networks, don’t pull off of iTunes, but try to follow-suit, and please don’t listen to analysts who speak for consumers while having little to no concept of what it must be like to be one.

WHILE WE’RE ON THE AWARDS SHOW FRONT …

Congrats to Jon Stewart who will once again be hosting the Academy Awards come February. I only have one hope that I will throw out to the universe in a brief letter as follows:

Dear Oscar Telecast Producer Gil Cates:

So you’re back huh? This every other year thing with you is getting a bit tiresome. I mean, I realize that somehow every other producer who comes in between your shows somehow manages to screw-up everything worse than anyone could imagine, trying to add all these “inovative” segments or what-have-you to recreate the show but in the process always making the damn thing longer and less watchable. And so, it makes your dry, tedious, stiff, formulaic telecasts seem more exciting in retrospect, so how can you really go wrong?

And two years ago when you first brought in Jon Stewart as host, I applauded you, quite sincerely. After the show, I commented that I thought, like Chris Rock the previous year, he did as well as he could have under your conservative producers hand.

So please … do us a favor. Hands off. Get Bruce Vilanch out of the writers’ room and let Stewart and his crew do their thing. Yeah yeah … I know you have to deal with the FCC and ABC censor crap too, and I will say, I have no doubt that you will be much better in handling it than Fox did last night, but please please please … just let Stewart be Stewart. Let him actually host. Try to go back to the days when the host ran the show as opposed to acting as filler between the off-screen announcer. Let him schtick; let him riff; just let him be!

And while you’re at it … you get one montage in addition to the “In Memorium.” Let’s trim the fat, OK? Seriously … nobody will miss it. In fact, if you bring the damn show in on time and there was absolutely nothing but the awards themselves, the song performances — all together again would be nice — the Best Picture nominee clips/presentations and the “In Memorium,” that is more than enough show and more than enough of a celebration for all of us. Trust me. It should actually be easy for you because doing so will take very little thought or creativity. I’m just saying ….

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got to say. Hopefully, throwing this out there five months ahead of time might actually get it to sink in. But I won’t put my money on it. As usual, I’ll have my ass planted firmly on my couch in order for the Annual Grand Disappointment on Feb. 24, 2008.

Sincerely,

Aaron