Out of Focus

For those of you who religiously read the New York Times Book Review every weekend, you may have noticed Ethan Bronner’s review of a book called “The Missing Piece” by Dennis Ross. Ross was the U.S.’s primary envoy to the Middle East peace negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians through the 1st Bush and Clinton administrations, and he’s now written a very detailed book about the process and his experiences. To me, he’s also always been “Uncle Denny,” my mom’s younger brother.

The book is currently ranked #108 on Amazon’s sales list, so I’m sure it doesn’t need any help from me. I also haven’t actually had a chance to read its 800+ pages yet. And although over the years I haven’t always had a chance to talk to or see my uncle that regularly, I do know him and what he’s been through well enough to be certain that what is in the book is likely one of the fairer, more balanced, more honest and more interesting looks at what has been one of the most frustrating continued unresolved situations in the modern world … for all sides.

I have two short stories that intersect at least tangentially with what my uncle writes about. I moved to New York at the end of 1996. My uncle, his wife and my three younger cousins all lived down in the D.C. area, obviously, and since they were my only family on the East Coast, they invited me down for Thanksgiving. I hadn’t been to their house before, and I remember being given “the tour,” and when I walked into my uncle and aunt’s bedroom, I noticed this enormous phone on the floor. It had all these lights and buttons; it was a private and secure line, separate from their regular house phone, on which my uncle could talk to, oh, I don’t know, Secretary of State Warren Christopher, Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat or maybe even President Bill Clinton. I remember thinking how odd it was that serious international political issues were being occasionally discussed on this phone sitting on the floor of this very normal looking bedroom in suburban Washington D.C. Then during dinner, a phone rang (I’m not sure that it was THAT phone). My cousin went to answer it and returned to the table saying, “Dad, it’s Bibi.” As in Benjamin “Bibi” Netanyahu, the then Prime Minister of Israel. It was second nature to my three cousins; to me, it was a little bizarre.

My uncle is a brilliant guy. He’s also pretty mellow, sometimes soft-spoken, but with a very dry wit. He often seems unflappable, which I’m sure is why he is known as such a skilled negotiator. He balances serious and funny conversation with aplomb, and there aren’t many people with whom I’ve ever had conversations that are as interesting. I don’t remember the specific details of most of my conversations with him, but I do remember one encounter that took place at the end of 1992 or beginning of 1993.

My uncle had worked off-and-on for the State Department, the Defense Department and the National Security Council since the Carter administration. When Bush the father was running for President the first time, my uncle — who was far more diplomat than politician or bureaucrat and before all his involvement in the Middle east was actually a specialist on Soviet relations — was hired to be Bush’s foreign policy campaign advisor. He then worked in the Bush administration and for Bush’s campaign against Clinton. However, after Clinton won, he was ultimately asked to stay on at the State Department because of his involvement in getting the Israelis and Palestinians to at least talk to each other.

My uncle’s wife was from LA, and her parents lived there. At the time, I lived in LA as well, and sometime after the election (and maybe even after Clinton’s inauguration), my uncle and his family came to visit, and I went to meet them at my aunt’s parents’ house. I remember asking him what his plans were, and he told me they had asked him to stay on and he was most likely going to do so. At this time, I know part of him was hoping to get away from working for the government and start doing more policy analysis and writing for a think tank. But on the other hand, he was very interested in doing his part to help find peace for the middle east, and at that point, he was very involved. He was also very optimistic about the prospects of actual peace between the parties.

I asked him how long he thought he would stay with the Clinton administration. He told me he thought somewhere between 6 months and a year. He said that he figured that time frame would be enough for him to either complete negotiations and actually have a some form of peace agreement or at the very least, they would be on the right course and he wouldn’t be necessary anymore.

Sadly, we all know that by the beginning of 1994 there was not yet Middle East peace. But I’ve always remembered that conversation and thought how indicative it was of the whole process. My very smart uncle who knew more about the negotiations and the problems in the area than virtually anyone else in the world had this very optimistic view that there would actually be peace and a two state solution for Israel and Palestine. In fact, he thought it was so close that it could even be completed before Clinton had to run for reelection. But nothing concerning that situation has ever been what it has appeared.

I do plan to read “The Missing Peace” very soon. I’m looking forward to reading all the inside stories I actually haven’t heard (and that would be most of them). Today in our post-9/11 world with wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, it’s easy to lose track of what’s still going on in Israel, Gaza and the West Bank. It may be the same part of the world, but the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is no longer at the forefront of most Americans’ minds. That’s a mistake for many reason. More of a mistake would be not learning from the tremendous hope that ultimately became mostly failure and has simply led to more death and divisiveness both in the area and the greater world. So even though this longish post may simply be a plug for a relative, at least it’s a plug for something substantial and something important.

I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been delinquent in providing you, my loyal reader, with a recap/analysis of last week’s Mid-Atlantic regional finals of IFC’s Ultimate Film Fanatic, and here we are at Friday with a new episode just raring to air tonight at 10:30. I know that Out of Focus has become the internet destination for all things UFF, and I’m not sure who should be more saddened by that: me or IFC. But somehow, former contestants are finding there way to this blog and emailing me or, better yet, making it to the comments.

In fact, the first aired winner of the show, who I harassed a bit in my point due to his relatively simple and boring “obsession war” winning item — a notebook of 365 films he had seen the year before — even commented on that first UFF post recently, and I do feel the need to respond.

Continue reading “AN ATTEMPT TO NOT BE LAPPED: THE PASSWORD FOR LAST WEEK’S UFF IS “DAMAGE””

Let me just say that I can’t remember purchasing anything through Ticketmaster in at least five years, and trying to buy tickets to any kind of quick-selling concert is something I haven’t done in well-over 10, back during a time when I’m not sure if web purchases even existed yet. You had to hit the redial button, or wait in line at some ticket outlet, hoping you got a good bracelet number (or sleeping on the sidewalk overnight in those days pre-bracelets). I also hate going to big arena or stadium shows; it’s not worth it anymore unless you get great seats, so if it wasn’t for my friend with the hook-up, I probably wouldn’t have even gone to Radiohead at MSG a couple years ago, even if they’re one of my favorite bands.

But when another favorite band, The Pixies, finally announced their NYC dates, and the tickets were going on sale through suck-ass rip-you-off Ticketmaster, I knew I couldn’t miss that. By the time I left UCLA in 1992, I had two favorite bands: Nirvana and The Pixies. (And I was still a “Clapton is God” freak.) But I never had a chance to see either of them.

I totally forgot about the limited pre-sale yesterday, but I’m thinking that they actually sold more than the dinky dozen satirically predicted by Jason Productshop because I was all ready to go at Noon today when the official sales were supposed to start. I had bookmarked the Monday 12/13 event page yesterday (I wanted to see Mission of Burma too, if possible), and at 2 minutes to Noon, I was clicking and refreshing incessently. Finally the ordering process started, and … sold out! What the fuck? In less than a minute?

Thankfully, I did a quick Pixies search on Ticketmaster and noticed that shows on 12/11 and 12/14 had been added. I tried rushing over to the Hammerstein web site to see if it mentioned who would be playing on either of these shows without letting the “You have 2:00 minutes to finish this page” Ticketmaster time limit running out. Ultimately, I went for the Tuesday 12/14 show and …

Thank the heavens … I’m going to The Pixies.

I got curious, so at about 12:20 I checked the Ticketmaster site again. 12/11 … sold out. 12/14 … sold out. Hey, look at that, a 12/15 show? Within 20 minutes of the original sale date/time, they had sold out four shows. With sales like that, could this be the last time they play a venue even as “small” as Hammerstein? If they record a new album and tour again, will it be punched up to just arena and ampitheater shows? If so, I’m thankful to be going now.

Huh, you say? You say nobody important in the film industry named Julia died today? Well that’s true (at least to my knowledge). But famed TV chef Julia Child died today at 91, and not only was she one of the founding parents of TV cooking shows, to whom Martha Stewart and the entire Food Network really owe a debt of gratitude, but she was also the most famous alum from my high school. That’s right bitches! I went to the same school as Julia Child. Of course, not a the same time.

When she went to The Branson School in Ross, CA, it was actually The Katharine Branson School, an all-girls boarding school. By the time I got there in the mid-80s, it had been co-ed for a couple years. Sort of. They created this “boys school” called The Mt. Tamalpais School, and although all the classes were co-ed, and for all intents and purposes they were one school (with one faculty and one administration) and everybody simply called the place either “Branson” or KBS/MTS, technically, I suppose, they were still separate. There actually was one noticeable difference between the two “schools” that kind of ruled for us teenage boys: the girls had to wear uniforms (gingham and such); the boys? I think we weren’t allowed to wear t-shirts, but I could be wrong. Otherwise … whatever.

Now see, the Katharine Branson died during my freshman year, and once her living persona was gone from the earth, the board of directors and administration decided that they didn’t need to honor her traditions any longer. So they simply “officially” merged the two schools under the one name: The Branson School. Oh, and they got rid of the girls uniforms.

Actually, I suppose my earlier statement that Child was the most famous alum from my high school isn’t really true anymore. Not too long after I graduated, a young Marin County boy started attending Branson. He went on to Olympic Glory, and then even more impressive, he became the host of a few editions of MTV’s Real World/Road Rules Challenges. His name is Jonny Mosley. Oh yeah. My high school beats your high school’s ass!

OK, not really. I got really tired of my somewhat stuck-up suburban high school a couple years in. And it helped create this utter hatred of suburbia and dislike of Marin County that I still seem to have today. I loved it at first cause, you see, I was a city kid from San Francisco. I commuted to school across the Golden Gate Bridge every day, and whereas every previous school had been one big building, Branson was a really pretty 14 acre campus. You had to walk outside to go from class-to-class. And it was secluded and quiet; and they had a great cafeteria, and a fantastic theater (although it’s nothing compared to the ridiculously professional facilities at Stuyvesant High here). And even though my middle-to-upper-middle class background still made me the “poor” kid, I didn’t actually notice the Heathers-like environment for at least a year or so.

Why am I ranting about high school? Maybe because I’m going home to see family this evening: often a somewhat precarious situation. And since I’ve left San Francisco in 1988, both of my parents have moved across the Bay to Marin. (Separately of course; I’m a child of the 70s — the age of divorce. Don’t tell me your parents are still together. That’s just weird!)

So … uhm … yeah … R.I.P. Julia. And thanks for the food. Yeah … that’s what this post was about.

Or uhm … a quiver. Or maybe a little shimmer or shake. How about a … zzzzzzzzz.

Hey guess what? Craig Kilborn is leaving The Late, Late Show. And really soon. Within weeks, it seems. Apparently, he decided that 5 years of having nobody watch him was plenty, and if nobody was going to watch what he was doing, he might as well do it off-camera. So now he’s going to write and produce … stuff. Can’t wait.

Actually, the Variety article linked to above (no reg required for that one) brings up an interesting scenario. Apparently David Letterman’s Worldwide Pants, which produces the Kilborn show, plans to simply replace hime as host. Variety floats the idea that CBS could make a run for Conan O’Brien who has a little over a year left on his NBC deal. Why would Conan make such a move? It’s not quite as ridiculous as some may think. First, it would give CBS a network monopoly (for now, at least) on New York based late-night shows. Second, they would obviously guarantee through Conan’s contract, that he would inherit Letterman’s Late Show time slot whenever Letterman decides to call it quits. And you know what, I’d put down money right now that Letterman hangs it up far sooner than workaholic Jay Leno does. Of course, there’s no indication that Letterman is calling it quits anytime soon, but it’s possible. The stories of his off-camera mood and demeanor have been floating for years. Maybe he’ll decide he just doesn’t want to deal anymore.

While NBC should obviously do everything they can to keep the best network show in late night (i.e., Conan — I’m not throwing The Daily Show into the equation), it wouldn’t be a total loss if he did switch to the other side. They could slide-up Last Call with Carson Daly to the 12:35 slot, and while his show wouldn’t be the comedic fun of Conan, it would provide an interesting contrast both as a lead-out to Leno and in competition to Conan. Daly still needs to make his interviews slightly more interesting and less meaningless chatter, but his show being much more interview and music related could be interesting competition for the same demo that Conan goes after.

Meanwhile, as far as I’m concerned, Kilborn won’t be missed. CBS is making a big deal out of how they’re happy with his lowly ratings because he did better than Tom Snyder’s old show. Of course, that’s because Snyder was an old bore and the only ratings he received were from people who fell asleep with the TV on. The only regular funny Kilborn brought to the table was oggling any hot model or actress that came on his show. Keep in mind, Kilborn has had a charmed career as it is, and if history proves correct, whoever takes over his show will probably turn it into something much better than it currently is. For example, there have been as good if not better Sportscenter anchors on ESPN since he left to go host … what was it? Oh yeah: How many of you remember that he was the original host of The Daily Show. That’s right — before any of you actually watched it; before The Daily Show became appointment television; before it became The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, it was just The Daily Show, starring Craig Kilborn, doing unfunny fake news with an unfunny smirk and throwing 5 questions at his guests.

So goodbye Craig. I look forward to your stay behind the camera.

“And so, the end is near …” (sigh)

Today is the last day of Gothamist Interviews by yours truly. Now just in case there has been any confusion this week, I was not being interviewed by Gothamist. Rather, I wrote up a bunch of interviews I conducted (mostly via email) with all these people. (And I didn’t do it alone — my friend Lily worked on all the questions and wrote or edited all the published pieces with me.)

Anyway, I hope you’ve been reading, and I hope you’ve enjoyed them. We had a lot of fun doing them. Will we/I do any more? Who knows? What I can tell you is that we saved the best for last. And by the way, if you have the chance and feel the urge, I’d love to hear what you thought of the interviews. Feel free to email, IM or comment here. What did you like? What didn’t you like? Did you have a favorite interview? Question? Whatever?

If you don’t know who Craig Wedren is, you should, and not just because I happened to mention him on this blog yesterday. A fabulous musician who used to front the fantastic band Shutter to Think, Craig’s new band BABY just released his first album, and he continues his progress to becoming the indie rock and film version of Danny Elfman, i.e., a musician who does it all — a rock singer/songwriter who also becomes a prolific film composer. I actually met Craig for the first time almost 8 years ago when I first moved to New York. I came here knowing virtually nobody. Some friends of a friend of mine from LA basically took me in socially, and they were friends with Craig. While Craig definitely has a rock star persona and demeanor, he doesn’t have a rock star attitude, and I think this is evident in his interview. I’m not going to pretend that I’m closer to him than a distant and mild acquaintence, but he has always been very nice and friendly to me.

So head over to Gothamist and give Craig’s interview a read. And make sure to go all the way to the end. His response to our “8 Million Stories” question is absolutely priceless.

So you know that post from yesterday mentioning how I would be going to see Craig Wedren play at The Living Room and then some other bands at Luna Lounge if only I wasn’t going to this Democratic benefit called “The End of an Error”? Yeah … I kind of wish I had gone to see Craig, and The Go Station, Neon Thrills and Morning Theft because I don’t know about any of you who happened to be at Spirit with me last night, but the evening was a major disappointment, at least as far as the show itself. I’m happy that I could do my little part to contribute by paying $105 for 3 tickets, but if I had known the evening would proceed as it did, I would have just sent in my donation and headed to the EV.

Actually, I do know about most of you who were at Spirit: you fuckers wouldn’t shut-up! Here was an evening featuring performances by Rachel Dratch, Demitri Martin, Eric Bogosian and Lewis Black, not to mention speeches by Congressman Anthony Weiner, Manhattan Borrough President C. Virginia Fields and NY Attorney General Elliott Spitzer and musical performances by The French Kicks, John Wesley Harding and, the headliners, Yo La Tengo. Now, to be fair to the crowd for half-a-second, the sound was absolutely terrible. Or I should say, when each act started (especially The French Kicks and Yo La Tengo), it seemed to take the sound board operator forever to get any kind of mix that even resembled listenable. But even when the screeching guitars and mic feedback stopped hurting, it was still awful. There was always too much bass; so much that all you heard was a consistent low hum that every now and then sounded like a slightly different frequency. All the vocals were ridiculously muddy, also with too much bass as well as what sounded like a bit of unnecessary echo. Suffice to say, I have no idea if I like The French Kicks, who one second sounded just like The Strokes and the next like a slightly mellower U2, because I couldn’t hear what their instruments were actually playing. Yo La Tengo, who I loved, seemed to get to an almost bearable mix by the 3rd or 4th of their 6 (or was it 7?) songs.

But you know what? I would have dealt with the crappy sound in this cavernous club (with some of the worst and slowest bartenders running one of the most disorderly bars I’ve ever encountered, by the way), but what was impossible to ignore was the constant chatter of the entire crowd, at least in the area I found myself most of the evening. It seemed to bother some of the speakers/performers, and rightfully so. What the hell was going on? I know Spirit is just a big club where people usually come to drink and try to talk above the pulsating music, but didn’t everyone there come to support the cause as well as see some very talented people? If they wanted to just have a normal NYC club night, why not go somewhere else? Send in a donation if need be, and then give some other club your $7-10 per drink.

I seriously couldn’t believe it. As the acts would continue, the constant murmer of 100 voices talking at once would get louder and louder. People were trying to make sure their companions could hear them … over the volume of that annoying guy onstage! I think Demetri Martin was really funny, but I can’t be sure because I only heard every other joke. I’m pretty sure Eric Bogosian (of whom I’ve been a huge fan for years) performed a really interesting new monologue — apparently something he’s been working on and never done publically before — but I can’t be sure because the two girls to my left talking about what beer to get next wouldn’t shut up. The crowd showed Elliott Spitzer a little love. And people seemed to pay attention to Lewis Black — it’s the only moment of the entire show that I noticed nobody waiting for a drink at the bar. But that’s probably because the two of them spoke the loudest of anyone all night, and you could still hear miscellaneous conversations.

It’s just unfortunate, and I actually also felt bad for MC Paul Scheer who was out of his element. I was only familiar with Scheer from his participation on VH1’s Best Week Ever, but his jokes were relatively flat, and he lost the audience about 2 minutes after he stepped onto the stage, if not sooner. He kept trying to keep things moving, but nobody seemed to care, and instead, he just kept doing silly little bits and jokes.

So, you know … go Kerry! But next time somebody organizes a political fundraiser that includes a bunch of speeches and performances that isn’t a simple rally in some public park, maybe creating such a social setting is actually counter-productive. I know next time something like this is scheduled, I’ll have to think twice about going.

First there was the Pistons. Then Peabs retires only to realize how important he is to our country this election year, and without warning, he pops back out of the woodwork. Then apparently the party of the century was thrown for Grambo’s 30th. Next thing you know, the blogosphere is rocked with the announcement that Jessica “The Blueprint” Coen is taking over the editorial reigns of the Moses of all blogs — you know, since we all follow it religiously — Gawker.

But no matter how excited I am to see formerly yet still Foxy Jess’ take on all things media and gossip, in my insulated by television world, all that mattered was the result of last night’s finale of Last Comic Standing during which Michigan resident John Heffron received his just desserts and won America’s vote. Seriously … I was actually excited about this. After last year’s travesty of Dat Phan beating Ralphie May, it was nice to at least see three finalists who all performed very funny sets. But not matter how great Gary Gulman and especially Alonzo Bodden were, Heffron was consistently the funniest and most entertaining of anyone who was on the show this time around. He’s not necessarily an innovative or overly risky comic; in many ways he follows the relatively safe observational humor methods of Jerry Seinfeld. However, his energetic delivery and comic timing are near flawless, and he was the guy I was rooting for.

Meanwhile, how stupid was the damn show last night? Host Jay Mohr kept plugging this end-of-broadcast big announcement about the next season of Last Comic Standing. Meanwhile, NBC ran promos for the damn thing during every commercial break tonight; the same promo that aired at least twice (maybe more — I wasn’t always paying attention) during Tuesday’s final competition show. The next season, which premieres the week after NBC finishes off monopolizing the airwaves with the Olympics, is going to be some sort of face-off between the first and second seasons’ contestants. And the big announcement at the end of the show which Mohr kept teasing before every commercial as if it was some big secret said exactly that. They could have promoted talking about next season without trying to pretend that there was some earth-shattering secret. Maybe the producers and the network should actually talk.

Anyway, congrats John Heffron. Your “Go Girl” bit was hysterical. Your energy is infectious without being annoying. This household voted for you several times — multiple phone lines and email addresses you know — so we were very happy you won.

I’m off to The End of an Error Kerry benefit show tonight, but if I wasn’t, there’s a good chance I would be heading over to The Living Room at 7 PM before heading uptown one block later in the evening to Luna Lounge to check out Morning Theft, who a bunch of people seem to be talking about. That’s because Craig Wedren, former lead singer of Shudder to Think, current frontman for Baby and indie movie composer and songwriter extraordinaire will be performing a free show of solo material at The Living Room. Besides, in my world, Luna Lounge and Craig have a little something in common this week. What could that be? I’ll let you know tomorrow. (Subtle, right?)

Yes, yes, I have absolutely been neglecting my blogging duties to you all. I can’t tell you how many posts I have bumping up against each other in my head. Next thing you know, I’ll be writing about how Zach Braff falls in love with a six foot bunny when he goes home to his mom’s funeral in Idaho riding a horse who likes tater tots. But I swear: it’s not just this Gothamist Interview thing that’s been taking up my time. In fact, most of it was done before this week started anyway, and it has been a lot of fun. There have been some other things occupying my addled brain the past week-and-a-half or so, and hopefully they will be resolved very soon in a very positive way. Moving on …

So hopefully I’ll get something else written today. But in the mean time, please don’t neglect checking out today’s interview with Sean Desmond, an editor at St. Martin’s Press. Sean has also written one novel (it was called “Adams Fall”), and that novel actually become a movie … sort of. Remember that guy Stephen Gaghan who seemed to come out of nowhere (although he had been writing for TV) to win an Oscar for his Traffic screenplay? Well that Oscar earned him the right to direct something, and he took Sean’s book, switched some minor things around (like changing the protagonist from a guy to Katie Holmes) and called it Abandon. Yeah, I missed it too, although I do remember when it came out, so that’s something, right?

But none of that is important, really, because Sean is a really interesting and witty guy. And if you head on over to Gothamist, you’ll see that too.