Learn

There is a difference between your and you're.

If you do not know the difference between these words and do not know how to use them, I refuse to take you or any of your ideas seriously.

Stop wasting my time.

Jonathan Frakes: On the Record about his Soap Fucking

I was a psychology major in college. I hadn't considered it as a profession. And then I went to New York. I thought I had died and gone to heaven because I was doing the soap during the day. It still is the best training. I think enjoying it helps. I wouldn't say boredom drove it, but I certainly looked around and got a sense of who was doing something that appealed to me, or something that I wanted to do. Fortunately, some of the editors were so helpful, when they could have been so reticent. A lot of these guys could smell competition…

I think I got the best of it, because Rick was so adamant about making sure that, before he gave me one, that I really was prepared. It could have been an appalling situation. I saw other kids who folded under the pressure from their home... they didn't think they could make it and they were told by their parents that they shouldn't stick with it if they loved it. I think we all had hoped that at some point we'd get paid to do this.

I'm not quite sure that I felt shackled. I know others do feel that way. I did the soaps for awhile. I was happy to do it. I was young and single. I had always wanted to do other things, but I've been so busy for the last 2 years, that there haven't really been any windows of time. I just need to be asked!

Source

The Mist

I've been eagerly awaiting the film adaptation of Stephen King's The Mist for some time. Since I first read the story, probably 15 years ago, I wanted to see this story on the big screen. I found the novella to be a perfect Night of the Living Dead-style monster-siege story with an ever-escalating threat from both the bugaboos and the survivors turning on one another. More than any of King's other work, it seemed like a no-lose proposition to make it into a movie. And, so, now that the movie's finally happening, I'm excited to see the trailer but find my reactions to it are (perhaps unfairly) burdened with high expectations.

Reactions I just can't keep to myself, apparently.



Anyway, judging from the trailer, it's shocking to me how relevant the religious conflict in the story could be. With all the Left Behind bullshit and the phenomenon of ardent Christians feeling ever more embattled by our increasingly permissive and secular culture, this aspect of the movie looks to be the best part. Who can say if the movie will pull it off as well as the trailer does, but it looks like the actress portraying the zealot is playing the character as more than just a caricature of an evangelical, more subdued than I'd imagined while reading the source material and, interestingly, motivated as much by fear of her God as fealty. This pleases me as her gathering a congregation within the supermarket always seemed to be the trickiest part of the story, in terms of translating it to the big screen, and if they pull it off, I can probably forgive a lot of other problems with the film.

Hey, speaking of problems, here's a doozy: I count three mentions of the titular Mist in the trailer, and every time someone says the word Mist, it sounds like they're saying it italicized and capitalized. The trailer is about 2 and 1/2 minutes long, and that they couldn't avoid three annoying and import-laden mentions of The Mist would seem to indicate that these Mist takes are pretty heavily ladeled throughout the film. Indeed, if I've done my math right, three Mists over 2.5 minutes equates to about 108 over 90 minutes. I hope my math is wrong.

I don't want to beat up on a trailer too much, so here's hoping that it all works out in the end... for the sake of my 14 year old self, if nothing else.

Portland Editing

So...

We're living in Portland, Oregon now. I have to say, the overall feeling I have of living here is that it is quite a bit similar to what I imagine it's like to live in Hobbiton. People are friendly. Traffic is courteous and unaggressive. The produce is fresher and more flavorful than anywhere I've ever lived. It's a quiet, unassuming city with a lot of charm. And good God do they love their booze here.

But the reason I'm breaking my silence is not to share thoughts on Portland. Rather, I'm doing some freelance video editing. I am taking talking head interviews and documentary footage to make some nice company who likes to pay me money a promotional video. Yippee. I love editing and getting paid, and the company people seem to like what I do, so everyone's happy. In trying to make an interview on this project come out smoother and eliminate unnecessary stammering, I'm working on a moment where a woman says, "So, we..." I need her to say, "And we..." at this moment. The transition from "so" and "we" is narrow... she never really stops saying the "o" sound before moving onto the "w" sound. No hard cut will work.

So here's what I do: I take a phrase from earlier where she says, "And wire..." I chop it so it is like, "And w"

I chop "So we" to start about halfway through the "w" sound in "we"

Bump them up together... play it back...

It sounds like "And wuheye eee"

No good. I trim a little from either side. Then Throw a 2 frame crossfade on the audio. Play it back.

It's perfect (enough). "And we"

This trick is something I've done before, but it rarely works because the intonations have to be just right. Everytime it does come out, I pump my fist in triumph and have the desire to bore the world with all the microscopic triumphs and joys found in the technical inanities found in video editing.

Hmm. Depending on how much work comes my way, I think I'll start reporting about these little triumphs that go into a good edit on this blog. I always want to tell everyone I know about these little triumphs, but for some reason, it's difficult to explain vocally without lapsing into tedium.

A Review?: Snakes on a Plane

Spoilers abound.

Snakes on a Plane has the good sense to provide the titular snakes on the titular plane and not much else. It's not a great bad movie or a decent film--it's an average bad film, the kind-of movie you see on TBS all the fucking time. The great relief is that, besides the obligatory "motherfuckers" spoken by (and clearly re-shot by) Samuel L. Jackson, it doesn't wink too much at the audience, letting them do their own nudge-nudging. Jackson, in fact, provides a sturdy anchor for all the improbability... and, good God is David Koechner a god-damned relief whenever he's onscreen, wasted as he is. The rest of the characters are pretty weak and bland, one-dimensional archetypes representing segments of society like the cast of one of those disaster movies from the 70s (did Airport '77 have it so good/bad?). During the first act, when the film establishes these, um, characters, it's nigh-well intolerable and anytime the action slows down to focus on the emotional turmoil of these stand-ins for humanity, the dullness is depressing.

It reveals that not much has changed in the slasher-movie paradigm. Have sex? Die. Do drugs? Die. Are snobby? Die. Fat? Die die die! The only thing that seems to have changed is that "The Brother" doesn't die first and "the sissy" is found to be useful and not some sort-of burden to the brute masculinity needed to overwhelm the snakes (sorry right wing fundies...Snakes on a Plane is the official death-knell to your anti-gay crusading...the zeitgeist has officially shifted). The movie has a few fun geek-show gore moments where people die in surprising and graphic ways, but completely misses the chance to have some visceral bloodthirsty, vengeance-filled snake-deaths. With one or two exceptions (including a shout-out to Gremlins), anytime the movie offs a snake, it's vague, unclear, and coy about it. Call me human, but when I see a poisonous snake bite a man in the junk, I want to see that motherfucking snake get his motherfucking head bitten off in all the gory detail.

The movie plants some seeds that could have really blossomed into some absurd and delightfully logic-free moments. But it's playing it far too safe to launch into the stratosphere of absurdity. Why introduce the kickboxer if you're not going to use him? Sure, he gets a moment of heroism, but what he does is so average that you'd believe any other character could do the same thing. The premise itself is ridiculous enough that I wouldn't have minded seeing a kickboxer kick-boxing his way through the snake-pile--I would have relished it. And why build up the entrance of the bizarre-looking croc-o-snake (or, if you will, allisnaker), a giant constrictor with two rows of teeth accompanied by Jaws-esque music, if you're not going to have the passengers or Jackson or even the girl with the dog have a show-down with this behemoth?

If one is interested in seeing this film, it is imperative to see it opening weekend with the amped up, self-aware, irony-soaked crowd of youngsters ready to cheer, chortle, and mock the very things that are usually taken for granted in movies of this ilk. I was fascinated that the crowd, primed by months and months of Snakes on a Plane internet jokery, was ready to lambast any moment of the film that tried to be genuine. I wondered if this would have been the case, absent the months and months of buildup. And I wished that everyone would watch all of movies with such a generous, yet critical eye as the audience turned toward Snakes on a Plane. The world would be better off if audiences could be counted on to sneer and boo at, say, Tom Cruise during some of the schmaltzier Mission: Impossible 3 moments the way they did when Samuel L. Jackson advised Julianna Margulies to stay strong.

Anyway, Snakes on a Plane does deliver some effective and compelling snakes-on-a-plane peril. It's a sometimes fun goofball film that, despite earning instant kitsch status, will probably fade from memory like a silly dream had four years ago. It reminded me of the Kurt Russell vehicle Executive Decision more than once. Even that barely-average film had the capacity to wring applause from the crowd as the nerdy Kurt Russell, sweating like Robert Hays, semi-successfully landed a huge commercial airliner. This movie climaxes on a nearly identical note and it's just as stupid and yet rewarding. We're living in a post-9/11 world now and we could all use a United 93 that ends on a happy note. Well, for most of us. The sex couple, the peeing man, and that fat lady clearly had it coming.

No no, seriously

Lack of posts. The voices cry out and demand WHY? They are insistent. I am to explain my behaviors.

The truth of the matter is that I am quitting my job and moving to Portland, Oregon for no particular reason other than I need a shake-up and being poor may be just the thing to rouse me out of my well-fed lethargy.

Thus, the reviews will not be coming fast and furious as belongings are gathered and moved across the country. In fact, I doubt they will be coming at all.

Following September 1, though, I believe there will be time. And perhaps we will see the rebirth of One Movie a Day shortly thereafter, springing from the ashes with a new lease on life.

I love you all with a passion that defies the Earth's gravity. Oh, and if anyone can hook me up with work in Portland, speak up now for the love of God.

In case this isn't apparent:

The purpose of Electric Shadows has shifted from a personal blog to a place for me to continue writing about film. I'll write mostly about movies on my Netflix Queue, but some first-runs will no doubt sneak into my musings.

There may still be some pithy movie unrelated posts, but I can't really work up the drive to do that regularly.

Also, there will be cookies.

But no milk.

I am lactose intolerant.