Wednesday, 2 November 2005
Jack and Meg Paint the Town Red
Living for the moment, slacking off, procrastinating - whatever you want to call it, I never did get around to writing about the concert that Heather and I saw two and a half weeks ago, Sunday, 16 October.
That concert was the White Stripes, and it was pretty decent. Their stripped-down sound carried well to a live show. Though you could only see Jack and Meg White on stage, it was pretty apparent that there was at least one, maybe two people, off-stage. Despite its being contrived to keep the illusion of only two band members on stage, at least using real off-stage musicians was truer to their keep-it-real sound. I for one definitely prefer that option to the alternative of using prerecorded backing tracks.
I really like how the White Stripes have gone back to certain rock fundamentals: shorter songs (typically around three minutes), clever lyrics and catchy tunes, a willingness to mix sounds (blues and country sounds seep in), a stripped-down approach to recording in an over-engineered world. In all these ways, their concert was a success.
Friday, 28 October 2005
Röyksopp's Night Out
Hit a bit (oh, just a tiny bit) by the shell shock of starting the process to buying an apartment, I didn't write yesterday about our latest concert experience.
Wednesday night, the same day as finding the apartment, Heather and I went to see Röyksopp. They played the Élysée Montmartre, the same place we saw Zero 7 last year.
The show was good, nothing remarkable. I really like Röyksopp's music - at least, the first album (I don't have the second one) - but there's very little an electronica group can do to impress. Well, there's always a big light show, but not everyone is loaded with money. Certainly not these two Norwegian geeks (and I mean that in the kindest way. Also the "geek" part).
I was surprised to find that the female vocals were done live; often, a woman's voice is sampled. This was cool to find out for "Sparks," a song with a somewhat retro-sound to the vocals. I'd always assumed it was a sample from an old record. On the other hand, the singer (Anneli Drecker) was overly camp while she vamped - to the point of being corny. Congrats to her for doing a tour while five months pregnant, that's some stamina.
Also cool to discover was that a lot of the percussion was live. The drum kit was virtual (except for a lone cymbal), but the half of the duo who played the drum pads really went at it with full vigor. I tried hard to capture it in a photo, but wasn't successful.
All in all, a solid show. Röyksopp played almost their full catalog (at least as far as I could tell), including some tracks not on their albums (I knew they were old, a friend said that they're not included on the second album). Better yet, they played all of my favorites - including a couple of great reworked songs (hard to call live versions "remixes"). Not bad for an earnestly geeky duo and their two backups (vocals and guitar).
Thursday, 6 October 2005
Brotherly Block-Rockin' Beats
It's two-fer Thursday! I'm looking back a bit here, so bear with me.
The Chemical Brothers in concert at the Zénith de Paris
Besides giving me an iPod for Christmas, Heather gave me tickets to a concert for my birthday. Not just any concert, but one I'd been gabbing about for some time: The Chemical Brothers. I was good boy.
Mind you, the concert was in February, so this entry is hardly news - but the concert was cool. Being the old people we were, Heather and I sat. But the show didn't have any reserved seating (aside from VIP seats that were pretty crappy, actually), and we ended up with a great view of the stage. Unless we'd been at the front of the standing crowd - crushed by sweaty, bouncing bodies, oh fun! - we couldn't have done better.
What can I say? The music was great, and so was the light show. Heather hadn't heard a lot of their music, but recognized a lot of songs, so the tickets turned out to be a good investment for her too. We had a blast.
during the last song, Brother Screen reminded us to get outside more often
But since there isn't much to say, I'll just leave you with the pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Pretty, animated ones. Listen to the sound of my voice. You are getting sleepy. Very sleepy. Feeling like, you could send me all your money. Aside from a nebulous feeling of generosity towards me, you'll remember nothing after I snap my fingers...
*Snap!*
More after the jump...
Thursday, 29 September 2005
Jamiroquai Brings It On
Besides getting engaged, earning French permanent residency, and planning for my future, I've been doing some more "normal" stuff - for instance, going to concerts.
Jamiroquai in concert at the Palais des Omnisports de Bercy
Last Friday, Heather and I went to see Jamiroquai at the Palais des Omnisports de Bercy. Yes, "last Friday" - this is a timely entry, for a change!
I think we each only own one of his albums, and it might even be the same one. But ever since my friend and then-roommate Mark introduced me to the music, I've grooved on Jamiroquai. No? That didn't work? Yeah, I can't pull off being cool or hip. But you can deal with it.
Jay Kay is a little ball of energy; I don't think he stopped jumping around for more than a few seconds at any time. It's amazing to me how someone can pull off a two-hour set like that, and not miss a beat. Yeah, don't talk to me about playback - maybe the band uses it, but I doubt it after seeing several improvs and spontaneous jams.
Wednesday, 8 June 2005
Revenge of the Sith
Last Saturday, Heather and I finally went to see the final chapter in the Star Wars series. There's are no new angles to review for you if you're interested, and there's nothing I could make more attractive about my review if you don't already care.
I have had one thing on my mind since seeing The Phantom Menace. Fans and fanatics alike denounced Lucas's foray into self-indulgence. Jar Jar, midichlorians, Jar Jar...
But when it comes down to it, the movie pretty much was in keeping with the whole series up to that point. I mean, let's face it: Star Wars was no Shakespearean classic. A classic, sure, but no work of art.
The difference was, today's rabid fans (and I) were between 6 and 10 years old when Star Wars first came out. The first movie - and the rest - squarely target at that age group, and to giving the sense of wonder that all things sufficiently "cool" can instill in kids.
To this day, I remember my friend's birthday party excursion to the theatre to see it. I remember lifting my feet off the floor during the garbage serpent scene. I remember knowing that it wasn't real, but still being thrilled by the remote possibility that it could be real.
Yes, I can remember that first time I saw Star Wars, with elementary school friends in lil' ol' Rochester, Minnesota. I'm certain that I'll remember seeing the last episode, with my wonderful girlfriend in Paris, France.
George, you may have done wrong. You may be a hack or you may be brilliant. In any case, thank you for these fun - sometimes cool - films that dotted 28 years of my life.
Friday, 27 May 2005
Swingin' Country in the Heart of Paris
Last night, I joined friends Matt and Lauren to see Mark Erelli play at a small bar in the 5th arrondissement. Mark happens to be Lauren's brother, which added a fun twist to the evening.
Country music isn't really my thing, but this wasn't exactly country music. Besides, music in general is "my thing," so I'm always open to new sounds. I love the soundtrack to O Brother, Where Art Thou?, for example.
Mark's music is fun, with the best of the blues: often uplifting and saddening at the same time. Sometimes wide-ranging and political, other times more personal. I like the stories his songs had to tell.
One guy on stage, with his guitar and harmonica. Alone but not aloof. Good stuff. You should check him out.
Thursday, 19 May 2005
What the Hell Was That?
There's a shaggy-dog joke that I love to tell whose punchline goes something like that. And right about now, you're probably feeling like you're the punchline of some joke that you didn't even know was being told.
Or not. Whatever.
Well 'round about last July, I tried doing one movie review per day. And failed miserably, I might add. This flurry of movie "reviews" was supposed to have been a part of a much greater blizzard. In July. Err, yeah.
So cleaning out my coffers, I offer to you them - these jewels that the world would have been that much less for, had they never been revealed.
Or not. Whatever.
But beware! For while my back-stock of reviews is now empty, one day they may again rise. Evil incarnate! Inanity innate! The undying, ever-present threat of... movie reviews from the past!
The Stepford Wives
They said it couldn't happen again! But they were wrong! It's yet another... movie review from the past!
(everything after this point was written on 10 July 2004)
I don't like to take my lead from other movie reviews. True enough, I'll often read one before seeing a film - it's hard not to do, since U.S. films are usually released later in France than in the U.S.
I went to see The Stepford Wives with more than one poor review hanging in my mind, but still determined to form my own opinions. After all, this was Frank Oz we're talking about. How could the man who brought us Bowfinger, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and Little Shop of Horrors have strayed so far as to be accused of making a lousy movie?
Qui perd gagne !
Now! Never seen before! Never read again! It's... movie reviews from the past!
(everything after this point was written on 29 June 2004)
Going to see a French comedy is a gamble. There are certain cultural differences in what is considered "very funny," but even the French consider the quality of their comedies to be uneven. Big name stars don't guarantee anything, much as is the case in the U.S.
So, it was very appropriate that the first French comedy that I've seen in ages was Qui perd gagne ! - and that it also happened to have a big-name star (Thierry Lhermitte).
The Day After Tomorrow
When did it happen? No one knows! Why did I write it? Nobody cares! Movie reviews from the past!
(everything after this point was written on 13 June 2004, plenty of editing fix-'er-uppers right now)
There are some movies that you see because of what you know about them. Others, you see despite what you know. In the case of The Day After Tomorrow, it's a little of both.
The opening doesn't pull any punches - well, except for one, and it's a sucker punch at that. Walking in to see a disaster action film, knowing that you're walking in to see a disaster action film, why would you be surprised to see the disaster in full bore? Well, you wouldn't. Except that the opening moments of the film aren't the disaster, but "just" some little disaster to whet your appetite. Thanks guys, didn't really need that, but thanks.
Monster
From the depths of time! Out of the darkest recesses of my hard drive! It's... movie reviews from the past!
(everything after this point was written on 16 May 2004)
What kind of person goes to the movie theater on a beautiful, sunny day to see a dark movie about a serial killer? I guess the type of person who is me.
What kind of person kills? Not once, but repeatedly? I guess that would be a monster.
Tuesday, 19 October 2004
Resident Evil: Apocalypse
Never let it be said that I'm not pig-headed obstinate when I want to be. Well, I don't think that too many people would say that about me. But now you can insert another word somewhere in that sentence's grammar tree: "stupid."
I knew that Resident Evil: Apocalypse - the second, sad heap of narrative rubble that passes for a cinematic adaptation of the eponymous video game series - would be stupid. Professional reviewers told me. Game industry writers told me. Friends told me. Friends of friends told me. Strangers on the street practically bowled me over to tell me.
So it's small wonder that I have no one but myself to blame for seeing this film - which, in a sad comment on my social life, essentially amounted to my first "movie meal" after a two or three week-long fast. In a way, you could equate it with a man condemned to death choosing mac 'n' cheese - made from the box - as his last meal.
But hey, I thought to my self, it'll have two hot, gun-toting babes who kick ass. Sure, as expected they'd be surrounded by the prerequisite melange of Eurotrash accents and indeterminate Canadian shoot locations. But at least there would be two hotties. And if that wasn't enough, they would be hot.
Thus began my downfall.
Sunday, 11 July 2004
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring
I see a lot of films, that's for sure (nah, ya think?). A good part of these seem to be made up by Asian films - Chinese, Hong Kong cinema, Japanese, even Thai. France, at least in the cinema, is paying more and more attention to Korea.
Having seen, shuddered to, and liked The Isle, I didn't want to miss Ki-duk Kim's latest, Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring. The beautiful, saturated colors that filled the previews made it an even easier decision.
Unlike the occasionally shocking Isle, Kim's latest is relatively flinch-free. Playing like a poem, the film moves with a slow grace as it follows a boy learning from a Buddhist monk. Their days seem mostly unstructured, with only occasional guideposts: morning prayer and simple chores (which could double as meditation, I suppose).
Saturday, 10 July 2004
The Cooler
For whatever reason, I seem to have an inversely proportional rule to writing about movies: The more I like them, the less I end up writing in my reviews. This entry definitely breaks that rule.
Fair enough, maybe I was affected from having spent three and a half hours laid over, waiting to board my flight (planned). Or maybe it was the more than two hours that I spent at the gate waiting after boarding the plane (unplanned). Or perhaps it was the nasty couple behind me, or my fatigue - or one of the million other potential reasons I'd have to put me in a bad mood for my eight-hour transatlantic flight.
Or maybe, The Cooler was just complete crap.
Friday, 9 July 2004
Mona Lisa Smile
In one of my favorite movies of all time, a character has come to accept the monotonous drudgery of his world. Traveling from one city to another, often on red-eye flights, he has compartmentalized his life to an extreme. Single-serving meals, single-serving bathroom kits, single-serving friends.
Sitting on my own flight, eating my own single-serving meal, I settled in to watch my single-serving entertainment. Much like the plane, its crew, and everything else related to a flight, in-flight movies are chosen to be safe and comforting. Regardless of any outwardly appearance of risk, every chance has been calculated to within acceptable parameters.
Thursday, 8 July 2004
The Company
Robert Altman has a well-known history of making his filmed subjects... interesting. Sometimes, "interesting" means adding enough of a twist as to brew controversy. MASH was ostensibly about the Korean war, but was a direct comment on Vietnam. Prêt-à-Porter and The Player upset more than a few among within respective power structures. Even more amazing, the latter was his first Hollywood studio film in twelve years - not a good way to win friends, but he pulled it off and even managed to find fans within the industry.
There's also the stately but more neutral Gosford Park. Then there's Dr. T & the Women or Popeye. Popeye? Yup.
So, what to expect from The Company, a movie about ballet? How about one that stars bad boy Malcolm McDowell? But wait - what if the headliner was Party of Five-r Neve Campbell? Hmmm - now we're stuck on a fence: Will Altman rip apart ballet's snobbish power structure, or handle it with kid gloves?
Wednesday, 7 July 2004
The Station Agent
There's something appropriate about watching a film starring a dwarf as an in-flight movie. The cramped seating and inhospitable conditions seem designed to make just about anyone, of any size, feel uncomfortable and out of place. And if those are only temporary conditions, can you imagine how someone who's outsized by life might feel?
Tuesday, 6 July 2004
Along Came Polly
When writing my movie "reviews" (I'll admit it: they're pretty much my using movies as an excuse to go off at the mouth), I might give the impression that my tastes lean a bit toward the elitist. You know, "those who can, do; those who can't, review." But despite being hard to satisfy, I like a simple, fun movie just like the next person.
"A simple, fun movie" pretty much sums up Along Came Polly. Ben Stiller has some pretty decent credits to his name, and seems to be able to get away with loads of silly movies while retaining his credibility. Jennifer Aniston, on the other hand, has done a few respectable films - but will probably always be remembered for her role in "Friends."
Monday, 5 July 2004
Kiki's Delivery Service
Any country that produces cross-gendered super-powered teenage heroes, hero-worships a giant, rocket-powered, flying turtle or considers deadly-venomous blowfish the height of fine dining by needs must be deemed - and let's be honest here - not too right in the head. But like Jerry Seinfeld's wacky neighbor Kramer, the Japans of this world serve to make life more interesting.
Well, Kiki steps up to the plate and swings a homer: her mere presence makes other people's lives interesting. Of course, that's sort of what you'd expect when you consider that she's a pre-teen apprentice witch who makes broom-express deliveries while accompanied by her talking black cat.
At times, I had the impression that good ol' Kiki was a little soft in the head. But her work ethic and gentle perseverance ruled the day: the big city that she loves so much ends up loving her back. You couldn't get a better-spun morality tale if the Pope himself had written the story (though probably without so much of a flying-witch-and-talking-cats angle).
But this is Hayao Miyazaki's movie and it wouldn't be complete without all the trimmings. Sort of a cross between Lewis Carroll and Walt Disney, this is a man who I'd want as a neighbor. Even his evil robot clone would be welcome to come knocking down my door to borrow a cup of sugar.
Sunday, 4 July 2004
Immortel (ad vitam)
I think that people can define what is to be expected from them. There's one extreme: you can choose not to do anything, and never fail. Or you can try to do everything, and probably never succeed. The trick is finding the balance between setting the bar too low and setting it too high - and then, following through.
Immortel (ad vitam) is a perfect example of this philosophy. Enki Bilal is an amazing artist. He's best known for writing and illustrating bandes dessinées (larger-format hardcover volumes that come out every few years as opposed to the thin monthly editions that the U.S. calls "comic books").
His illustrations are nothing short of breathtaking at their best, a mixture of watercolor, ink and other media that give a surprising mount of texture and depth. He seems spellbound, if not obsessed, with possibilities resulting from the fusion of living beings (usually people) and inanimate objects (machinery, stone, metals, etc.).
Saturday, 3 July 2004
The School of Rock
Do you like chocolate? How about ice cream? Caramel? How about any sweet, in any form?
If you answered "no" to all of those questions - or maybe even if only to one of them - you don't need to bother reading any further. Go back to your liver-and-onion-lovers support group and practice your bitter frown.
The rest of us know the pleasure of things for their own pleasure. No benefits (aside from the visceral), no grand contributions, no guilt. Self-indulgent. Bohemian. Hedonist. Voluptuary.
These are all names that Jack Black would understand, and they apply just as well to The School of Rock as to his character in it. This is a film with no aspiration of greatness, not interest in elevating the audience's consciousness, no hope to improve the quality of your life.
Friday, 2 July 2004
Runaway Jury
When I was younger, I used to love watching "L.A. Law." I'm not sure why, maybe I was just a glutton for punishment. But in that case, there must be a lot of gluttons for punishment - at least in the U.S. The guts of law, after the real guts shown in medical dramas, seem to draw people's attention like few other dramatic situations.
Maybe it's not too surprising: the Romans had their gladiatorial combats. What else, if not our modern bread and circus, is a showdown in a courtroom? Authors like John Grisham seem to smell the blood in the water, and they've tracked it with some success.
Thursday, 1 July 2004
The Butterfly Effect
I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure that Ashton Kutcher's career arc could be an early warning sign for the approaching apocalypse. How else to explain Demi Moore's dumping Bruce Willis for this boy toy (wait, I guess I just explained that one), the popularity "Punk'd," or a movie that portrays Ashton as a genius psychology student?
There are some movies that require suspension of disbelief for full enjoyment, such as Star Wars or Edward Scissorhands. Others demand suspension of disbelief for even partial enjoyment, such as most teen-sploitation sex comedies or the last ten years of Woody Allen's body of work. And then there is The Butterfly Effect.
Thursday, 17 June 2004
The Five Obstructions
Aside from what I'd read in a review (somewhere, no longer sure where), I went into The Five Obstructions knowing - and expecting - very little. I'd never seen its source/subject, The Perfect Human. Sure, I knew Lars von Trier's work (and his reputation), but nothing about his hero/subject, Jørgen Leth.
In fact, arriving late, I even missed a good amount of the introduction. So much for a "pure" exposure to the film or a complete viewing in its integrality.
Friday, 16 April 2004
Zero 7 != "Seven Times Nothing"
Besides griping about stupid little things and paying my taxes, I listen to music for fun. Actually, at times I've been known to equate good music to being as necessary as breathable air. And when you listen to good music, what better way than at a live show?
Zero 7 gives a decent live show. The group is just popular enough to have a decent following, but still unknown enough that their show was in a seatless venue (those familiar with Minneapolis, think "First Avenue"). This meant that we arrived well after door-opening to a full house, but still got a spot no more than five people back from the stage. It helps that the French (in my experience) handle crowded places better than Americans, so the concerts I've been to have rarely involved aggressive shoving or personal-space hogging.
Four female vocals - two lead, two backup - and one male lead in rotating combinations gave some pretty amazing variety for a one-hour show. Make that "an hour forty-five," including encores and dead moments. For you damn kids on my front lawn, pop queen Britney Spears' scripted-to-the-bone tour has a show time of only 90 minutes. Not that I'd compare her lip-synching to the smooth and/or powerful singing coming from these five. Just sayin', is all.
Wednesday, 24 March 2004
Fresh ---, as in A Breath Of, and Other Puns
When I was younger and still at university, I used to treat myself to music whenever I'd made it over a hump. A midterm here, an essay there, sprinkle in a couple of finals - and presto! A pretty nice CD collection.
That's not to say that I rewarded myself for a job well done, which was probably just the teensiest of holes in my little party-of-one Pavlovian experiment. Still, that didn't stop me from doing it, or from enjoying the rewards - merited or not.
Well, two Thursdays ago, I wrapped up a long day spent conducting user tests (the two great tastes that taste great together: tedious and wearying at the same time! [1]). Not just the first day, mind you, but the third day in a row. I'm good at doing at least a couple or three things in life, but user tests don't appear to be one of them.
Air in concert at the Zénith de Paris
Anyway, the point is that I had tickets to go see Air for that very night. (Ironically, at the Zénith de Paris - part of the same collection of buildings as where I'd spent the whole day.) If I hadn't already bought them, I'd probably skipped the whole thing and gone to bed early. That definitely would've been my loss.
Thursday, 18 March 2004
Girl With a Pearl Earring
What makes us who we are? Is it what we do, or how we do it? Or is it something beyond our control, or even immutable - a state into which we were born, living out our lives until we experience a single, final change?
These are metaphysical questions, and to be fair Girl With a Pearl Earring isn't attempting to answer any of them. But - tangentially, at least - it touches on each one.
Beyond that, I'm not quite sure how to look at this film.
Big Fish
Tim Burton is a personal favorite of mine: he's silly, whimsical, and childish - all in the very best ways. Sometimes his best intentions result in a very bad movie (Mars Attacks!, Planet of the Apes). Other times, it's nothing short of pure genius (Edward Scissorhands, Beetlejuice). Few people can bring us simple joys like Pee-wee's Big Adventure with such relish as someone who's fully in touch with his "inner child."
Make no mistake, it's Burton's inner child who's at the helm of Big Fish. Bookended by a bigger-than life Ewan McGregor and a stately (and understated) Jessica Lange, life is viewed from the height of a child looking up - with all the distortion and exaggeration that implies.
Wednesday, 3 March 2004
Paycheck
Disclaimer up front: just thinking about how I'd try and describe my reactions to Paycheck wore me out. You at least get the option of reading the rest or not.
Watching this film, I was overcome with the feeling that someone pitched making a "B" film with A-list actors. We'll overlook the question of whether Ben Affleck really merits being called "A-list." Uma Thurman and even Paul Giamatti could qualify.
Tuesday, 24 February 2004
Something's Gotta Give
I guess I'm not exactly Nancy Meyers's target audience: male, under-40, and not naturally given to getting myself into "wacky" situations. But then again, I do like seeing a funny movie.
Which is why I was disappointed when Something's Gotta Give seemed more like a series of awkward moments passing for comedy. "Jack and Diane," as the American movie poster un-ironically bills its leads, get off to a rough start and warm up to their roles as the story progresses.
But wait: since movies are filmed out of sequence, wouldn't that mean that the rough moments come and go? So that means that the apparent clumsiness is actually intentional, right? Hmmm.
Thursday, 19 February 2004
The Last Samurai
Let's get this over with right away: I don't particularly like Tom Cruise. I never really took a shine to him, no sir, as (someone's - his?) grandpappy might say. I find him arrogant, self-centered, and lacking common sense. Like Keanu Reeves, what he does is less accurately "acting" and more of a reflection of who he is; the difference is that Keanu admits it.
Not that any of this stops me from seeing a film with Cruise in it. Far from it, since it would be my loss for missing high-concept or big-budget movies that otherwise are enjoyable. Like The Last Samurai, for example.
I like Japanese films, especially ones that involve action and swords. One of my favorite directors, Takeshi Kitano, is Japanese. This, however, was neither Japanese nor a sword-and-action film - rather, it's a straightforward story in "exotic" settings aimed at an American audience.
Thursday, 12 February 2004
Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World
So, I finally got around to seeing Master and Commander. Despite the number of films that I watch, every year there are a few Academy Award nominees that I don't get around to seeing until after the nominations are announced; this was one. Rather than risk missing it in the theatre, I finally set aside the three hours it needed.
I definitely agree with a friend's advice that this was a must-see on the big screen, but not for my usual reasons (usually involving larger-than-life action or amazing images). While he did include some action (and decent action, at that), it felt more like Peter Weir needed every last square inch of screen to show the enormity of the ocean. More subtly, it reminds us that life is a series of greatly impacting moments separated by large spans of... well, "normal stuff."
Saturday, 7 February 2004
21 Grams
Have I ever mentioned how much I like Alejandro González Iñárritu's work? Probably not.
Here is someone willing to challenge his audience, one of the abilities that I value the most when it comes to an artist. Of all the shorts in 11'09''01, his was the one that had the greatest impact on me - yet I hadn't even known it was his work until much later. Amores perros was excellent, and the goodness continues in 21 Grams.
It's the way that this film keeps you off balance with its pendulum swings through time, getting ever closer to the defining center point of their arc and hitting the extremes that neighbor it. How much is life worth? Hard to say, when you're experiencing it from within - uncertain, confused, myopic, looking for a direction to take or a path to follow.
An impressive trio of lead actors, who Iñárritu gets excellent performances out of. I guess I should add "as usual," except that this is only his second major release. I'm looking forward to his adding more to that list.
4 / 5 : definitely see this one