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joem18b Blog

  • Larry the Cable Guy

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    When I wrote a review of Game Over the other day, I paid special attention to the movie's opening minutes. Watching Larry the Cable Guy: Health Inspector tonight, I noticed that it featured a similar opening, and I thought that it would be interesting to compare the work of  Larry Carrell and Josh Drapehs, Game Over's filmmaking novices, with that of professional director Trent Cooper and star Larry the Cable Guy (Dan Whitney). It's actually Trent's first and only feature so far, but he has done a couple of prize-winning shorts and his budget was considerably larger than Larry and Josh's $2500, even if most of it went for Whitney's salary.

    We're talking here about the opening scene in which the hero wakes up in his bachelor digs and gets his day started. It's been done a thousand times.

    Game Over (GO):

    1:05 f-bomb #1
    1:15 modest home, outdoor view
    1:20 the word "fart"
    1:45 cereal and beer, mixed
    2:10 actual fart
    2:30 socks with holes, underpants, butt crack
    3:35 stream of urine, poorly aimed
    4:20 pop tart and sour milk
    4:21 sour milk back into fridge
    4:50 cat
    5:45 hearse
    6:15 bird (finger, not feathered)
    6:18 overweight transvestite prostitute at the corner of McFarland and Navigation in Houston
    8:11 f-bomb #2, bird #2
    8:39 poop
    9:47 roaches 

    Health Inspector (HI):

    0:20 grappling with and dropping alarm clock
    1:01 butt crack
    1:15 stepping in pizza
    1:35 reusing Q-tip for ear wax
    1:50 stream of urine in shower. more yellow, probably due to larger budget for effects.
    2:08 using shirt for towel, putting shirt on
    2:38 sour milk back into fridge
    2:53 modest home, outdoor view, with retarded neighbor
    4:12 fly in the cafe mayo
    4:37 nose-wiping chef
    5:10 roaches

    What do we learn?

    1. HI is paced twice as fast as GO. Seems like a pro thing. Cut out the cat and the hearse and the cereal and beer.
    2. HI went with the bankable special-needs mentally challenged character rather than the in-your-face fat transvestite nymphomaniac. I was ok with either. Might work to combine them?
    3. HI holds back on the farts till the second ten minutes. Make 'em wait for it.
    4. HI wants the PG-13, so no f-bombs. GO went R in the first ten minutes, so after that they could unlease a righeous torrent of choice dialog.
    5. More roaches in HI, but that was just the budget talkin.
    6. Cooper put up Iris Bahr (aka Iris Bar-Ziv) against the cable guy. Got the country boy vs urban Jewess mojo working there. GO casting included players of many races but steered clear of ethnic humor, mostly.
    7. GO showed its ace in the hole, well out of the hole, which was the poop, right away. Should have held back, not showed it so soon, just have folks reel back in horror at the sight and smell, build the suspense? HI rolled with simple earwax and mucus.

    With the seasoned professional, it's slick entertainment. With the beginner you get the joie de vivre.


  • The Curious Case of Brad Pitt

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    The name Benjamin Button is odd, but the name that always bothered me a little was Brad Pitt. I would ask myself, why choose a name like Pitt for your screen name? This was before I realized that these days, lots of actors keep their own names, regardless, and that Thomas Bradley Pitt was one of them.

    It never bothered me that the two Pitts were Prime Minister. Eartha Kitt was OK. Mitt was OK, though I didn't like his politics. I've got nothing against armpits, or fruit pits, or Pittsburgh.

    Just seemed like a strange name to choose. Now if he ever marries Angelina (whose real name is Angelina Jolie Voight), she can be Angelina Pitt.


  • Time Travel Plots - OK or not OK?

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    Primer  (2004)

    The grandfather paradox: you go back in time and kill your grandfather, which means you were never born and couldn't have gone back and committed the murder in the first place.

    This paradox is easily explained if you keep in mind that the universe comprises matter and energy, and that space and time are only ways to describe the current state of matter and energy, not corporeal entities in their own right. In that context, time is not a river flowing in only one direction. It, like space, is merely a way of specifying the arrangement of matter and energy in one of the universe's infinite states. (And btw, if you choose a system of units in which the speed of light = 1, then E = M, because matter and energy are actually the same thing.)

    So you and your grandfather are collections of matter and energy, little bits of the universe's total supply. In one state of the universe, he's alive and you haven't been born. In another state, he's dead and gone and you're alive. In a third state, the two of you are in the same place and you're murdering him.

    The seeming paradox arises when you think of time as that simple stream, moving only in one direction. The universe is in fact a limitless collection of individual moments in which every quanta existent occupies a particular spot defined by time, space, and physical state coordinates. It's as if the universe were a giant, static, space-time cube or matrix. If we had the perspective, we could see that every possible position of every quanta is present; this means, as far as we are concerned, that every possible thing that could happen has happened and hasn't happened, will happen and won't happen, going both forward and backward in time - that is, every state in some sense is there already.

    What this means is that pretty much any sci-fi timetravel plot ever contrived is OK - the plot for Primer, for example.

     


  • The Dark Knight

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    The Dark Knight  (2008)

    The Longshots  (2008)

    When The Dark Knight ended, I thought, well, there won't ever be another one quite like that. I felt sort of sad about it, but was also glad that the movie was so good and that I had seen it. Ledger put his mark on the movie and now he's gone. A sequel might be as good or better than The Dark Knight, but it won't be the same. Ledger's death instantly made The Dark Knight one-of-a-kind, frozen in time. The old saying ran through my head, "After they made this one, they broke the mold." Acting in this movie, Ledger made the mold that the industry was undoubtedly planning to use, and will probably still try to use, in the future, but it won't be the same. Ledger made the mold and when he died, he broke it.

    I happened to watch The Longshots next and I can report that the longshots mold is not broken. Lowly team of losers, its coach a struggling yet tough and tender man adrift, a woman who will stand by her man - in this case, two women, actually, the genre's duties split between a sister-in-law and a teacher of the coach's neice. Small town somewhere in the midwest. And some kind of first - first all-black team or first team of kids from reform school or first native-american girls hoop team or hockey team of kids who can barely skate or the last baseball team before the town's ballfield is plowed under and planted in corn, or... well, in this case, first Pop Warner team with a female quarterback. But this particular species of sports mold over the years has been reworked to this extent: the lowly underdogs make it to the championship game, yes, but in that last .01th of a second, they no longer always win. In, say, 70% of the movies they win, but otherwise, they do a little character-building losing. Adds a little suspense to the movies now. How will The Longshots come out? Will they win or lose? And then, in this genre, before the credits roll, those little postscript epilog messages pop up: "The next year, in 1955, the Wartberg Warthogs came back to Septic Field and this time won the championship, 99-0, led by Sissy Stirrups, even though she played with a broken breastbone, no two broken breastbones, the whole season."

    Molds were also in play in Last Man Standing. I was in the mood for Bruce Willis and a lot of two-fisted automatic handgun fire, which is why I snagged it at Blockbuster. Yojimbo created the mold, Fistful of Dollars came out of it, and so did Last Man Standing. The same movie, three cultures, and the mold is not broke.

    Three movies that didn't bother with a mold that could be broken later - no mold was ever made - these movies are unique: The Saddest Music in the World, The Fall, and Summer Love. Saddest Music and The Fall are relatively well known hereabouts. Piotr Uklanski's Summer Love is a Polish Spagetti Western in which Val Kilmer gets plugged at the beginning of the movie and lies dead throughout the rest of it. A film surpassingly strange and a lot of fun (U.S. title: Dead Man's Bounty).

    More movies that didn't break the mold: Breaking the Mold: The Kee Malesky Story (2003); Michael Caine: Breaking the Mold (1991); TV Land Landmarks: Breaking the Mold (2004).

    Just plain old mold: Black Mold Exposure (2009), Mold on a Peach (2002), Toxic Mold Solutions (2003).

    Uplifting: Molder of Dreams (1991), Moldovskaya skazka (1951), Love Molds Labor (1911).

    Downlifting: Down with America 3: Moldy Kitten (1999), Moldy's Madhouse (2001), Cet imbécile de Rimoldi (1961).

    Not so moldy: Smoldering Lust (1993).

    Dlom (mold spelled backwards): Discounts For Lack Of Marketability: The Movie (2007).


  • The Pixar Story: A Review

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    The Pixar Story  (2007)

    The Pixar Story is an inhouse documentary presenting, in 88 minutes, the Pixar story. It's slick, it's historical, and if you're interested, it's worth a watch. Not so easy to find, though, unless you're willing to download it from not-your-public-library, where it is available in abundance.

    I could see Pixar from my office window. A Sarah Palin thing. I don't mean that I could see it now if I wanted to but don't want to, I mean that I used to could see it, but that was a couple of offices ago, back in the 80s. Sitting at my desk I could make it out. At the time, my office window looked out over a parking lot where a hawk swooped down and grabbed a pigeon, and even if you think that pigeons are flying rats, I'm sorry, but I've had rats for pets. Except for that naked tail, they're pretty cool. This was back when I worked above the Sand Dabs Restaurant and the aroma of deep-fried dabs would rise up right around naptime - back when I could see Pixar, I mean, not back when I had the rats; in fact, back when I could see Pixar, I had a parakeet, and in addition to Pixar, I could see the office of the parakeet's doctor, off to the left. Pixar was across the street behind the multistoried, zigguratlike Ask building, next to the Target loading dock. I could have worked at Pixar; I mean, I could have walked in and applied for a job, instead of jogging past the building every day. I guess that I could say the same about Yahoo when it was still stuck in a little building on the Central Expressway, next to the Decathalon Club - where, having laid off 15,000 last week, it may end up again - or when I worked three buildings down from Google on Garcia, when Google was just being born and was peddling their search engine incestuously to Yahoo. That's why I think of Pixar as sort of related to Target, because they were side by side, and because of the Target-like product packed into Toy Story as a consequence of the animators going over to Target for their pre-Starbucks coffee during their early brainstorming. But the point is, Pixar from the start was connected in its spiritual innards to Hollywood, whereas my company abandoned Jesus in those tough times and signed a deal with the Defense Department, so that while Pixar was working on 3D-landscapes to entertain, and while the DOD was abandoning their attempts to teach homing pigeons in the warheads of Cruise missles to peck at touchscreen pictures of the terrain around Verbiblobstakaya and instead was rolling into Silicon Valley like a Stephen-King black fog to shop for databasemaker systems that could map a route from a silo north of Seattle to the center of Moscow, to be used by a missle travelling the whole shot at a height of 3 feet above the steppe, my company was vectoring down 101 past Moffett Field to the Blue Cube and Lazy L. Leaving me in the end with this question: if one guy wins an Oscar for animation and the other guy contributes to the destruction of the human race via massive nuclear strikes, which one wins? Mothers, don't raise your children to build bombs tra la. Pixar moved across the bay to Richmond Point, anyway; impossible commute. For another time: how game designers and animators fit in, the sales and use of whose work dwarfs the efforts of Pixar and its kin; but does not dwarf, in spite of all those dollars and all that game violence, the real bomb makers.

    Pixar started out as a group of bright young people in Lucasfilm, got bought by Steve Jobs from Lucas, made some hits, went public, made some more hits, sold out to Disney, made Ratatouille and Wall-E while managing, despite being acquired and despite the aging of its bright young people, to avoid absorption by Disney, and subsequent decline. So far. The Pixar Story - the movie - was completed in the Ratatouille timeframe. On a parallel timeline, Pacific Data Images started out with some bright young people, contributed to some movies, sold out to Dreamworks, made some hits, spun off as PDI/Dreamworks, made some more hits. Whereas I could see Pixar from my office window, I can see PDI from the roof of my house, down in a complex that does its little bit to wreck the baylands. A friend who works there tells me that the old timers - PDI was founded in 1979 - say that the atmosphere in the company hasn't changed so much over the years. Dreamworks, at the other end of the state, hasn't done to PDI yet what Disney will probably end up doing to Pixar.

    The Pixar Story comprises animated snippets alternating with talking heads. I've had it up to here with talking heads. Especially serious heads, telling me how hard they worked, lord how hard, and are all now without exception crudzillionaires. But wait a minute. I go out in my shorts every day and while jogging listen to the Washington Post political podcast, Slate, Washington Week, MacLaughlin, To the Point, Day By Day (RIP), News and Notes (RIP), Left Right and Center, The New Yorker Out Loud, Planet Money, so forth. Or did until I downloaded The Fountainhead the other day and got sidetracked by 30 hours of Ayn Rand. Is it that I need the talking heads? I talk back? Hold the IPOD like a phone to my ear and talk into it? One talking head in The Pixar Story that caught my attention was the former CEO of Robertson Stephens Investment Bank, which went down hard when the dot.com bubble burst. Watching him was like watching Hamlet talking to the skull in the graveyard. And George Lucas, get off the screen! You have lost your right to pontificate about anything ever again. Thank God your divorce and Howard the Duck made you dump Pixar before you started writing stories for it.

    Man, did Steve Jobs make a bundle off Pixar. The magic touch. Apple, NeXT, Pixar. My daughter-in-law's sister is his favorite serving person in Woodside. Another Palin thing. He's a good tipper, or maybe that's just money falling accidentally from his pocket when he pulls out his handkerchief. I also won a free lunch at a lunchwagon that parked outside NeXT every workday noon, two blocks dowon from the Glomar Explorer. I got pinworms along with the lunch, which only in recent years can you treat with an over-the-counter remedy; before that, you had to get a prescription and the only place you could get one, if you were the typical carrier of pinworms, was in the emergency room, so that when I fell off a ladder and separated both shoulders and was transported in exquisite pain to the hospital, transported, I had to wait to be seen in line behind three individuals with pinworms, such being the vagaries of triage. For this I do not blame Steve Jobs. In the movie, which took seven years to make, Jobs retains the fat of midlife and good living, which has since melted away with his cancer. :(

    What's the difference between "It's hard to remember" and "It's easy to forget"? Young kids just out of school, wearing those cotton pants that I always thought would be a reasonable alternative to jeans but could never find, and short-sleeved patterned shirts still favored by the Indian employees hereabouts. Animation scientists. Lasseter gets canned from Disney in the first 15 minutes of The Pixar Story. I googled "roy disney weird looking." 154 hits but not the kind that I was expecting.

    Sign of the times: notice how nobody asks for "a reasonable facsimile thereof" anymore? The copy now equals the original. Back in the day, you had to sit down and draw a bunch of boxtops that looked like the single one that you had, in order to buy the poster without having to ten boxes of Wheaties. How long before live actors will no longer be needed, or wanted, in films, squeezed out by their virtual brothers and sisters? How long before actors join gas-station attendants in their netherworld? Or will actors hang on like supermarket checkout clerks, battling automation? Note that PIXAR spelled backwards is RAXIP (Replace Actors with Xygotefree Illusionary Personas). Didn't Steve Jobs as a young man look like the devil? Now what? Live actors to take refuge in/on the internet? How will that work? Porn is practically there already, but I mean otherwise?

    When computer animation cranked up, old-fashioned pen-and-ink cartoonists were in fear for their jobs; The Pixar Story shows them still busy with those pencils, but my friend at PDI never sees anyone with pencil in hand, away from the keyboard. In the future, I'm sitting on my couch in front of my Sony holographic box and my neighbor, who already, here in the present, bemoans the paucity of gigs in the acting profession, says to me, "Hey, I could do that!" as we watch a movie in which Buzz Lightyear appears to actually be the authentic Clark Gable. No, my neighbor couldn't do that, because Gable pulls off his leg and beats a chicken with it. Pathetic.

    Sure, live actors will keep acting. I just wrote a review about two guys who spent 29K doing a 9-day shoot for their movie. But you know what? They spent another 500+ days at the computer using Adobe Creative Suite 3. But yes, live actors will persist. There are still clipper-ship captains, aren't there? About four of them, versus thousands in the 1800s. There are still muleskinners. Or are there? There aren't that many damn mules anymore. Mine is gone, laid low by loneliness. There isn't a single mule in the family anymore. You ever eat mule? There's good eatin on a mule. And you know how they say that if gays can marry, next thing some guy will marry his goat? What about cartoons? One fellow applied to marry Jessica Rabbit. He was turned down not because she was a cartoon, but because she was a rabbit. If I marry the cartoon Maggie Gyllenhaal, does that mean that nobody else can too? Does it mean that I can get that scene in Sherry, Baby removed so that nobody can watch it but me? From here on out, PDI is going strictly 3D-with-the-glasses for theatrical releases - the next step toward these unholy unions? And what about those scriptures that say the sheeps will be separated from the goats? Why the goat-hate?

    With regard to blockbusters: when an animated blockbuster becomes absolutely indistinguishable from a real one, will anyone ever hire 10,000 extras again, or travel to strange and photogenic sites, a la The Fall? Will DIY filmamakers at their computers bifurcate into the ones who make extravagant swashbucklers and the ones in the mumblecore community who mumble to themselves alone in the dark of night bathed in the glow of their flatpanels? There are a few folks out there who prefer vinyl records to digital CDs because the imperfections and underproduced music on the wax disks imbue the music, or so they say, with a richness missing in the sterile digital world. Will it be like that with the movies? Or will the enterprising animator let a boom mike hang down into the frame and add projector film scratches to create such effects for the old-fashioned movie afficinado?

    Tom Hanks and Tim Allen have a word to say in The Pixar Story. Is it weird that the actors' bodies go first, so that only their voices remain in the movie? "Oh, Tom Hanks is in Toy Story. Isn't that wonderful." When animation makes the computerized actor identical to the real one, but voice technology continues to lag behind the visual, Tom Hanks will be dubbing himself. He'll get paid for the use of his image, of course, but he won't be acting anymore. Or worse, he'll take the money for his image but refuse to do his voice, and then he'll find himself watching himself onscreen sounding like Michael Madsen, who will do literally anything for a buck. And then virtual actors onscreen who become favorites won't be copies of current living favorites anymore - well, they might be, replicas of John Wayne, Jean Harlow, favorites old and new - but more often they'll be new nonexistent actors. And then Tom Hanks' voice will be animated too and used for an imaginary character instead of himself, maybe another Woody (who actually looks and acts more like Dick Van Dyke), and Hanks will be paid for that too and can go spend his money at the Old Actors' Home. But I'm no Luddite. Who will now take the plunge and animate Hilary Swank? Meanwhile, the virtual stars will marry - strange ceremonies on tropical islands where only the animators are present. The virtual stars will have children, who will also become stars. Since they'll be rich, the virtual stars will adopt real babies from Africa. They'll cheat on each other. Thank God there will be virtual Jimmy Stewarts around to maintain some reasonable standards. But then, some sorehead will bring back Anita Bryant.

    In The Pixar Story, the heads talk and then we see the cartoons they created. Irony?


  • GAME OVER: THE SECRET LIFE OF GAME STORE CLERKS - A REVIEW

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    WARNING! I'm writing this on the toilet. Got a problem with that? Then stop reading now.

    ehhnnnunnngggggggg

    Game Over targets the 13-to 40-year-old male gamer demographic. This review is for them.

    eennn... eennn... nnnnggggggggg

    My God, what did I have for dinner? Too much corn!

    OK, I borrowed that corn part from the movie.

    Spoiler: There is pooping.

    OK, now that we've got rid of the fuddy duddies... What, you still here?

    gggggggnnnnnnn aaaaaaaaaaahh  it burnnnnns!!!

    Plop.

    Ok, that should do it.

    Courtesy flush.

    Look, you write a review or make a movie with lots of fart and poop jokes, you're taking a chance. The guys on FilmCouch #94 talk about this. Tell a plain old clean bad joke and everybody groans when they hear it and then move on. Tell a poop joke that flops and folks wonder where your head is at. The creators of Game Over, Larry Carrell and Josh Drapehs, made their coprophilistic choices with eyes wide open and nostrils clamped shut. It's the demographic, stupid. They've got a poop prop (I hope it's a prop) and they're not afraid to use it. This morning I unlocked my own fake-poops cabinet, trying to remember exactly what that expression was on my secretary's face the last time I used one on her.

    Hey, I'm walking an effing tightrope here. My mom could read this.

    ffflllaaaaaaaaappp

    I read somewhere that you lose your PG-13 rating when you put more than one F-bomb in a movie. I was wondering how long it would take Game Over to go from PG-13 to R. The first 10 minutes of the movie:

    1:01 first luchadore
    1:05 first F-bomb
    1:25 first look at Ungowa world headquarters (can also be viewed on Google Street View)
    1:20 first use of the word "fart" 
    1:45 first cereal and beer, mixed 
    2:10 first actual fart 
    2:30 first socks with holes, underpants, and butt crack 
    3:35 first stream of urine, poorly aimed 
    4:20 first pop tart and sour milk 
    4:50 first cat 
    5:45 first hearse 
    6:15 first bird flipped 
    6:18 first overweight transvestite prostitute at the corner of McFarland and Navigation 
    8:11 second F-bomb and bird (there goes the PG-13) 
    8:39 first poop 
    9:47 first politically incorrect use of roaches 

    Now that I've sold you on the movie, you're probably asking yourself where you can get Game Over. Not easy. A trailer, yes, that you can watch right now. There's one on YouTube with the cockroaches in it. The movie is listed in IMDB, but so are 28 other Game Overs, and at the moment it's categorized as "in production." A second, R-rated trailer - the F trailer - provides you with a look at the main prop with its corn, plus Willie Nelson, Hunter Thompson, the Phantom Shitter, carpet F-bombing, the movie's climatic fart, and much, much more. You can also visit the film's website, which greets you with a voice asking "What's that smell?" I mean, who do you have to poop on in Houston to get a copy of this DVD? Ungowa is working with Amazon and Without A Box, now owned by Amazon, to provide you with Game Over; the arrangements should be complete by January '09. Ungowa is also working on distribution, festivals, pay per view, and DVD, at a price you can afford, at least until the U.S. and the rest of the world finish going to financial hell. For now though, your best bet is to head down to Houston - road trip! - for ONI-CON, Dec. 19 - 21, for Game Over's world premiere, two showings, plus a Q&A with Larry and Josh, plus Josh in his El Farto costume, made by his mom, who is a professional costume maker, plus DVDs of the movie for sale.

    Those of you in the target demo, feel free to leave now, cause that's all the good parts. Bye.

    When Kevin Smith made Clerks, did he create a genre? Because if he did, Game Over is in it. The clerks are in the store. Carrell, who has been working in a game store himself, wrote a script about something he knows. He and Drapehs rented a vacant bakery which served as the set for three different game stores and a video store, dressed over two and a half days with discount items. The set looks good to me, as do the customers who come into it. Carrell located the action mostly in one place, in the same way that Invaders From Mars, for example, featured a sheriff's office, a courtroom, a living room, etc., all using the same set with different dressing.

    Carrell and Drapehs, best friends, movie lovers, both with a degenerate sense of humor, spent 20+ years working together in the haunted-house business, dealing with budgets in the $50K to 200K range, managing up to 40 actors. In Houston, they helped build the sets for Alice Cooper's Nightmare, an interactive horror movie.  a couple of years ago, they decided to quit, take day jobs to make a buck, and create this movie. Carrell tells me that it's the story that moves people, but in Game Over, it's the bowels that move. But never forget, bowels don't move people; people moving bowels move people.

    Karina Longworth moderated a panel at the Denver Film Festival called DIY Filmmaking in an Indie Apocalypse. She talks about the panel on a recent FilmCouch podcast - about the fact that the major studios are backing away from Indie filemaking - making the point, among others, that the Carrells and Drapehses of this world will keep making movies regardless of where the big money goes, and that the DIY movement is alive and well. Carrell and Drapehs did not go to film school. Everything they have learned, they have learned by reading, talking to others, trying things out, and, hey, making Game Over. They hustled and scraped to come up with some money. Drapehs and Carrell ran with the hounds and hunted with the foxes. That makes no sense but I wanted to get it in.

    I myself personally have not made a movie per se, but I did decide to paint my house a while back. If I had known in advance what I was getting myself into, I wouldn't have started. The magnitude of the task - the prep issues, the paint issues, rounding up the help, the weather, surviving on a ladder, the random interruptions of everyday life - blossomed, ballooned, what's a good paint metaphor? Spread like a kicked-over can of bright red paint on your new oak floor. It's like when you say hey let's have a baby! It'll be fun! Twenty-two years later they leave the nest and break your heart. And then move back in. And then go mumblecore on you. You work, you slave, they rip your heart out and... aw just go watch Lee J. Cobb at the end of Twelve Angry Men and take his rant as written. But anyway, interviewing the filmmakers, I got the idea that making a movie is like that. The actual shoot took only nine days - that's all the time off that Larry had from the game store - and they were constrained also by their budget of $2,500 - but from the runup to the shoot to the post-production work - well, that's still going on - the project has consumed 2 or 3 years - and that's the last of the dashes I'm going to use - haha. I described in an earlier review how Jason Kohn decided to make Manda Bala and ended up spending five years on it. So making a movie is a lot of work, even more work than painting a house. Or at least as much. And then some more work after that. So be prepared if you set out to make one. Shooting the thing is just one part of a much larger effort.

    Being realistic, Carrell wrote most of the roles in the movie for cast members who hadn't acted before, roles that allowed them to just be themselves. There are 77 names on the cast list. 77 is a lot of anything, including people. I couldn't find half that many for my firstborn's bris. Nobody got paid (but there were refreshments at the bris). Drapehs's mother, sister, and nephews are in the movie. Larry's brother Rex played Hunter Thompson in the movie. There are friends of many stripes in the movie. And several professionals. Larry and Josh used Craig's List to line up the rest. Everyone's lines are scripted and everyone learned their lines except for the writer/director/star, who was so busy with everything else that with the cameras rolling he kept finding himself winging it. It's fun to watch the non-professionals act naturally while the pros chew the scenery. I was wondering about the kids dropping F bombs. That is, about whether there are industry rules regarding language used by minors, or Houston child-labor laws, or an outraged Christian public, or whatever. The kids in Game Over all signed releases, and their parents were present for the shoot. One boy was a little unsure about letting the F word pass his lips but his parents told him it was ok. I'm trying to picture my mom dealing with this:

    "Hey, Ma, I'm in a movie! Is it ok if I say f**k?... Hey! Ouch! Lay off! Mother f**k! Ow!"

    Tip of the hat to the Blues Brothers and the nuns for that thought. There is nothing new.

    Anyway, the day comes and everybody shows up.  Nine days for the shoot. Turns out that Drapehs knows the owner of Smart Multimedia (industrial videos) and the owner came down, looked around, saw the Canon XL1 the crew was going to use, and went back and got a JVC Pro High Def to use instead. Then you shoot the film, 40 more hours of it than you need because you're just learning what you need to reshoot when you redo a scene, and then everybody goes home and you fire up Adobe Premier and get to work editing until Hurricane Ike rolls in and you lose power for two weeks, plus your computer is fried, but you've got everything backed up and you upgrade to Adobe Creative Suite 3 because it has high res and BlueRay support, but when you import your film files, CS3 sort of scrambles them and there are audio issues to figure out and Premier, Sound Booth, Photoshop, After Effects, Encore, and Bridge to learn and the experienced editor/filmmaker you lined up through Craig's List (the only one to answer the listing: Larry Czach, Jack Everyman, IMDB 7.9, Houston) has to drop out due to illness in the family, but at least you can call him with questions. And you discover that because you used two mikes and they're out of sync, you've got to take one track out by hand, and the next thing you know, it's a year and a half later and you still need to put in extras such as a blooper reel and a commentary track. But at some point in there you have enough to begin peddling the results. One question that came up during the Longworth panel that I mentioned above dealt with submitting films to festivals and how to handle rejection: acknowledge that anyone can be rejected; think of a new door opening after the old door is slammed in your face; cry; keep going; keep a cool head; find a hobby; leave a flaming basket of dogpoop on somebody's doorstep.

    Thought from the movie: "Just because he's new doesn't mean he doesn't have any common sense."

    In the end, as with the pain of childbirth, you forget the bad and remember the good. The years of effort (making a movie, not having a baby) get telescoped in your brain and in due course you're ready to do it again. Ungawa's next movie will deal with Chupacabra (or this one). Carrell has also written a script about two brothers. De astra, ad astra.

    The other day I dropped my sister off at the local Metroplex to see "The Duchess." We were running late and we knew that the movie would be half over by the time that she was in her seat, but my sister said that she didn't mind and that she'd catch what she missed by staying over for the next show. When I spoke to her later, she told me that in the case of The Duchess, it didn't seem to matter one way or the other which half she saw first, since for her it was all mostly about the costumes. She did mention that plot points in the first half that she might have missed if she had started at the beginning were perhaps a bit more striking because she knew what was coming. This reminded me that when I was in the second grade, I was allowed to walk downtown to the Saturday-morning movies with my sister (different sister), who was a year and a half older than me. Hard to believe it these days, but that was in a small Southern town a long time ago. For whatever reason, as I grew older I decided that I always wanted to sit in the last row and see the second half of the second movie first. This habit continued through grammar school, and then I lost it.

    But then I watched "The Forsythe Saga" that way, back in the 60s. This became my all-time second-favorite TV mini-series, after the BBC's "War and Peace," and one reason for that, I think, is because I saw the last half of the series first. A strong sense of loss, regret, and nostalgia hangs over the second half of the Saga and I think that that atmosphere was strengthened by the fact that I could only guess at the origins of the regret. Note to self: next time you write a review, start in the middle. Fiddlesticks! I should have started this review here, not back up there. Too late now!

    Can watching the second half first ruin a good movie? Make a bad movie better? Isn't the first half of a movie generally supposed to be better than the second half? The interesting premise, then the complications, the unfolding, but devolving in the second half into the chase, clever ideas petering out? Like life, see? You're young, starting out, anything could happen, it's all a big mystery, the future; then you're old, there's just the one story, in the past, no chase, few complications, and it turns out that not so much happened to you when you think about it. Jeez. No wonder movies can be depressing. But anyway, if you watch the lesser, second half first, does that allow you to end with the better first half, instead of wasting it up front in the first half its own self? Doesn't seem quite right. Does the playing out of ideas in the second half defuse the beginning of the movie? Or is it that watching the second half first makes the second half actually literally become the first half, now itself holding the mystery and promise, in addition to the action that is the consequence of the premise? Plus you're a lot closer to the end when you start. Thus the second half keeps its own strengths while simultaneously inheriting those of the first half. Wow. Course then the first half is drained, deflated, turned into backstory, or worse yet, flashback; there are folks hate flashbacks. Why go back and watch the first half anyway? Put it in with the other extras. But if we're talking about a really good movie that you'd want to see twice, then watching the first half would be like watching a good movie the second time for the first time. I mean, for the first time the second time; and if it isn't a good movie, then you can skip the first half and save that time and effort for the second half of some other movie. Or, wait. Why not just watch first halves only, and then move on? Or second halves only? Why does anybody watch both halves? Watching the second half first, when the credits roll at the end, do you want to go back to the beginning and see what you missed? Or is last-half-first just a crude way of watching a movie backwards? Do that in sixteenths, say, and Memento would become chronological? Brad Pitt in Benjamin Button would grow old normally? Primer would be just as confusing as it is in its regular order? I watched the second half of Sixth Sense only. New rule: watch any half of a Shyamalan flick and call it a day.

    So I happened to have at hand "The Rules of the Game," the Jean Renoir 1939 classic that I've started a time or two before but somehow never managed to watch all the way through. This is the movie that was lost during the war and rediscovered in the 50s. Renoir comments in it on the degeneracy of the French upper crust before the war. Caused an uproar the night it opened; one critic tried to burn down the theater. The film runs 106 minutes on the Criterion DVD, so I put it in and advanced to the 53-minute mark. Immediately a man and his lover from earlier days say goodbye to each other (arguing over whether it's to be "adieu" or "au revoir"). The fellow's wife watches them smooch from afar. Then the lover and the wife quickly became friends in a sharp scene. Then lots of bedroom antics ensue. Most satisfying. Reminded me of that soap-opera truth: you can enter a soap at any random episode and get your footing within minutes. In fact, I felt exhilarated. Here was a "great" movie that I've been avoiding for years and in seconds, I'm already halfway though it! Sort of. I watched the third quarter and I must admit, when I came back the next evening for the final quarter, I did have a little trouble differentiating Christine from Genievieve. But hey, I knew that I'd get a primer in the first half; no worries. And I did. Back at the beginning I was introduced to the tragical characters, learning in the credits that Jean Renoir was one of them, not just the director. Second half: farce and cynicism. First half: more serious; interpersonal relationships.  Last-to-first improved the movie.

    Having watched a classic in this way, I thought that next I'd try a movie that was poorly received. I had "War, Inc." in the queue and Rotten Tomatoes pegs it at 30%, with critics like Stephen Holden and Roger Ebert panning it. I commenced watching it at the 53-minute mark of its 107 minutes. (Hey, Marisa Tomai. Joan Cusack. I wrote a word or two a while ago  about actresses working into their 40s and 50s. Add Marisa Tomai and Joan Cusack to the list. Tomai is a great choice to match up romantically with John Cuscack in this flick. She's two years older than him and still getting it done, as she goes au natural in "Before the Devil Knows You're Dead.") The chief rap against the movie is that it's chaotic, but taking the last half as a 54-minute movie, the chaos comes across as a natural consequence of dropping into the film in media res. The result: a spritely, entertaining, less-than-an-hour-long movie. Great locations. Many of my favorite stars showing up for a riff or two. I laughed a lot at satirical, over-the-top, incongruously violent scenes. And then, going back to the beginning, as with Rules of the Game, I found myself focusing on the acting, the characters, the multiplying plot points - like a prequel that might be better or worse than the original but that is of interest just for giving me more of something that I enjoyed in the first place. Second half: plenty of action, stars, anti-war riffing, and other stuff to look at, and ignorable plot. First half: plot stuff but plenty of stuff to just look at, too. Last-to-first improved the movie.

    Next, "Funny Ha Ha." I dealt with this one in an earlier review. Second half: most excellent angst of youth. First half: some romantic stuff I'm glad I didn't know in the second half. Last-to-first improved the movie.

    And finally, "Game Over." The movie runs 84 minutes; I jumped in at minute 45, where begins by chance a major guitar-hero sequence featuring the music of Ozzie Osbourne ("Bark At The Moon"), with Carrell channeling Jack Black. The second half of the movie is plot-driven as situations evolve; the first half plays as day-in-the-life. In Game Over I'm thinking that setting the context in the first half is a good thing; here might be a movie where the second half is in fact strengthened by the first half. Unlike the previous three films I watched. Willie Nelson shows up in the second half, though, and the sooner he's onscreen the better. And going back-to-front you get that guitar sequence twice, beginning and end, which is a good thing... My God, can I get back to basics here? Does life have to be so complicated? There's a case to be made for watching a story with a beginning, a middle, and an end, from the beginning, through the middle, to the end. For a story with three acts. For a story with an arc. For sitting back and letting the author and director lead you through the drama unfolding before you. Who am I, I ask myself rhetorically, to snatch this experience from their hands by wantonly dropping into their movie wherever I please? It's an outrage. Leave the poor movie alone! Game Over: first scene, the protagonist wakes up in bed in the morning, virginal and ready to embark, farting. Is that so wrong? What profitith me for to start with him at the pinnacle of his day, as a guitar god? Back off. OK, I apologize. I won't do it again.

    Homework: watch High Noon in quarters, last quarter first, end-to-front. Extra credit: watch a full season of 24 in reverse order.

    If you like Game Over, check out "Grandma's Boy" and "Clerks."


 


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