OK, I just have to ask: why is a great big country like us seriously considering making an unprovoked attack on a much smaller country like Iraq, ostensibly because they have a tiny portion of the same weapons we have? Can we really be this bent on haggling a good price for oil?
We keep hoping our president is less ignorant and malignant than he seems, but there's scant evidence to the contrary. The usual list of celebrity malapropisms attributed to Bush is a frighteningly impressive giant step beyond even Dan Quayle, and the look in his eyes -or, more accurately, the lack of same -instantly confirms that there's nobody home.
Worst of all, people who know absolutely nothing about politics or history or world affairs are going to start to pipe up, some of whom didn't even bother to vote in the first place.
People like me, for instance -people who know nothing about anything. People who never, ever talk about this kind of stuff are starting to, and that can't be good. (If you would only listen to me, I would gladly shut up.)
In all my years here at La Krepe de la Kape, I have never once written anything that was even vaguely political or topical, and darn it, I don't want to start now -for that would be giving in to terrorism -but this cowboy stuff has got to go. I'm completely mortified.
All this has made it hard to concentrate on what should be my first priority as your local music correspondent, which, of course, is this year's upcoming Oscar awards show!
Once again, it looks like the local music community has been shut out of the race completely -not only were none of us nominated, none of us were ever even in a movie to begin with. It's hard not to think about what might have been: Link Montana in “The Hours”! Randy Frost and Steve “Woo Woo” Wood in “Chicago” -the list is endfull.
By the way, Steve “Woo-Woo” Wood's regular Sunday happy hour shows at the Prodigal Son in Hyannis seem to be the talk of the town lately. Apparently, Eastham's P.J. O'Connell sat in last week, and things got loose and loud, to the point where some people's eyebrows were singed right off. I might drop by this Sunday myself, if I'm not in hiding.
I saw a remarkable new band up in Boston a week or so ago called “The Ninja” (and, yes, I agree that “The Ninja” is one of the least promising band names I've heard in quite a while.) They played a short but galvanizing set at the Midway in Jamaica Plain that recalled the energy of the Foo Fighters, but with more interesting melodies and arrangements.
They are fortunate to have what any great rock 'n' roll band needs most, which is a great drummer, in the person of Barnstable resident Finny Moore. Guitarist John McWilliams is also from Barnstable (used to be in the local band Degobah), so perhaps there's some chance they'll book something out this way soon -consider this an orange alert.
As to the Oscars, ah, I don't know, you pick. I'm rooting for Diane Lane (partly because she really was great in “Unfaithful”, but also because I just always root for Diane Lane) and for Christopher Walken (because I always root for Christopher Walken, and because a day without Christopher Walken is like a day without sunshine, and because I'd like to hear his speech.)
More importantly, I saw a fascinating movie last week called “Russian Ark.” For now, you'd have to go to Boston (Kendall Square Cinema in Cambridge, actually) to see it, and it's in Russian, too, so, I know, fat chance; but it is absolutely remarkable, a true jaw-dropper (and would be even if it wasn't shot in one gargantuan ninety minute-plus take.) Stately, moody, mysterious, haunting, and sometimes even playful, it reminded me most of the last hour of “2001”; like that film, it's open to a thousand different interpretations.
The crowded ballroom scene at the end is especially amazing, and has a strange Capra-esque quality: even the smallest, non-speaking characters seem somehow to lead full, fascinating lives. In a room full of hundreds of people swirling around, not one of them seems like an extra, and the effect is remarkable, stirring, and, in the final rapid pan down the stairs through the crowd and out the door to a lonely green-grey sea, unforgettable.
In the past, I've frequently found Russian movies hard to take, but I'll certainly be searching for anything else by director Aleksandr Sokurov (and probably not in vain, as “Russian Ark” is apparently his 31st film.
[Editor's note: I encourage all to please check out MoveOn.org: Democracy in Action]
Friday, March 21, 2003
Friday, March 14, 2003
Returning a Video, Part 2
[In case you missed last week's thrilling episode, "Returning a Video, Part One", I had returned a video rental about a year late, and it was a movie I really, really hated, and I had just thrown myself on the mercy of Gil, the lucky Videorama employee on duty at the time, in a pathetic display of blubbering hopelessness, when, suddenly ...]
...I continued begging and wailing in abject terror of the Lord High Police of Videorama or whatever, saying I didn't have the money, "you can't make me do this, not for this movie, NOT FOR THIS MOVIE! No one, nowhere, no time, would ever rent the movie "Gung Ho", starring the always at least vaguely horrible Michael Keaton and directed by f-ing Opie, for chrissake, for more than two days, on purpose. I mean, have you seen this movie?"
At this point, I think my voice was starting to get a lot louder than I meant it to. "You should pay me for isolating it! That was one of the worst, most insulting, bleep bleep curse cuss splatter pieces of goddamn bleep bleepblip blip bloop-o cupcake expletive expletive bleeps I've seen in my whole darn life! You owe me! You owe me!"
I was getting a little worked up, and I inadvertently did a sort of a twirl into one of those small racks of movies on the ends of the bins, which dis-lodged entirely and clicked and clacked onto the floor. I knew I had gone too far, and I sputtered hasty apologies to Gil as I started picking up the videos off the floor, when I noticed, at the bottom of the heap, under an empty "Gung Ho" display box, a hand-written sign that read "Employee's Favorites: Gil."
I did the only thing I could do: I ran. As fast as my little legs could carry me, as far and as long as I could go, away from the scene of the crime, running, running, into my car; then drovedrovedrovedrovedrove, on and away into the night (home, in fact.) I no longer rent at Videorama, and i don't think my relationship with Gil will ever be the same. I've seen him since once or twice, in town, but now his eyes have that hollow look; it's obvious we'll both be scarred.
Luckily, I don't have that problem at "Video Super Mega World", which is where I rent now. We're still in the honeymoon period -they have no idea they're dealing with a such loose cannon.
(By the way, I hope this doesn't seem to be condoning the idea of renting bad videos for years at a time and never bringing them back and never paying for them; but on the other hand, if you're really positive you've found a movie that I will hate, I fully authorize you to throw it in a pond immediately, and commend you for acting larcenously on my behalf; because, as we all know, there are some movies that no one should have to pay to see, ever. Or even just see, period. To think of getting some of the hours back, unblemished, that we might have dashed watching, say, "Dude, Where's My Car" or "Chariots of Fire" or "The Vagina Monologues" is truly exhilarating.)
However, I am happy to say that all this is only a preamble to much gladder tidings: I have recently found a good movie, rentable not only at both Video Super Mega World and Videorama (and if you do get it at Videorama, please give Gil my regards and tell him how much I miss him and the gang), but at other popular chains like Bagbuster, Video Mortal Nuisance and Distant Marcel's Great Cradle of Videography, called "Dinner Rush", which features, among others, Danny Aiello and Sandra Bernhardt -actually, it's a great movie, and there aren't that many of 'em, so listen up.
It's about a popular and newly trendy Italian restaurant in New York City with mob ties, and it's greatest strength is that it captures this milieu -the snooty, high-tone dining room with a high-pressure, hot, crowded kitchen -perfectly. Fans of "Big Night", another old favorite about the restaurant biz, might particularly enjoy it, even though it is less funny; in turn, it is more atmospheric and realistic, albeit still very romantic and cinematic.
The movie is beautifully shot and scored, at times reminding me of Bernard Herrman and his wonderful music for "Taxi Driver", not to mention the dark, subdued neon look of the rainy city streets in the same film. "Dinner Rush" has interesting, believable characters and an elegantly scruffy soul; it might be the best thing we've seen since "Aberdeen" (and if you haven't seen that one yet, well, hurry up, dammit -it's at both Idle Times in Eastham (hi Jeanie!) and Down Under in Wellfleet.) (Not to mention Dr. Horse Video Emergency in Dennis, and Video Whoa Whoa Whoa! in Chatham -some of which are made-up places that shouldn't actually be gone to -especially not in this weather.)
Getting back to "Dinner Rush", though, I'd like to add that even Mrs. K (and by that of course I mean That Enchanting Goddess Who Watches TV More Than the Rest of The Planet Combined, and thus doesn't have to like anything if she doesn't want to; but still, surprisingly, isn't nearly as jaded as you'd think someone might be under those circumstances) quite liked "Dinner Rush" and heartily joins me in recommending it to one and all, despite the fact that it contains neither canine nor equine appearances of any kind, oh well.
...I continued begging and wailing in abject terror of the Lord High Police of Videorama or whatever, saying I didn't have the money, "you can't make me do this, not for this movie, NOT FOR THIS MOVIE! No one, nowhere, no time, would ever rent the movie "Gung Ho", starring the always at least vaguely horrible Michael Keaton and directed by f-ing Opie, for chrissake, for more than two days, on purpose. I mean, have you seen this movie?"
At this point, I think my voice was starting to get a lot louder than I meant it to. "You should pay me for isolating it! That was one of the worst, most insulting, bleep bleep curse cuss splatter pieces of goddamn bleep bleepblip blip bloop-o cupcake expletive expletive bleeps I've seen in my whole darn life! You owe me! You owe me!"
I was getting a little worked up, and I inadvertently did a sort of a twirl into one of those small racks of movies on the ends of the bins, which dis-lodged entirely and clicked and clacked onto the floor. I knew I had gone too far, and I sputtered hasty apologies to Gil as I started picking up the videos off the floor, when I noticed, at the bottom of the heap, under an empty "Gung Ho" display box, a hand-written sign that read "Employee's Favorites: Gil."
I did the only thing I could do: I ran. As fast as my little legs could carry me, as far and as long as I could go, away from the scene of the crime, running, running, into my car; then drovedrovedrovedrovedrove, on and away into the night (home, in fact.) I no longer rent at Videorama, and i don't think my relationship with Gil will ever be the same. I've seen him since once or twice, in town, but now his eyes have that hollow look; it's obvious we'll both be scarred.
Luckily, I don't have that problem at "Video Super Mega World", which is where I rent now. We're still in the honeymoon period -they have no idea they're dealing with a such loose cannon.
(By the way, I hope this doesn't seem to be condoning the idea of renting bad videos for years at a time and never bringing them back and never paying for them; but on the other hand, if you're really positive you've found a movie that I will hate, I fully authorize you to throw it in a pond immediately, and commend you for acting larcenously on my behalf; because, as we all know, there are some movies that no one should have to pay to see, ever. Or even just see, period. To think of getting some of the hours back, unblemished, that we might have dashed watching, say, "Dude, Where's My Car" or "Chariots of Fire" or "The Vagina Monologues" is truly exhilarating.)
However, I am happy to say that all this is only a preamble to much gladder tidings: I have recently found a good movie, rentable not only at both Video Super Mega World and Videorama (and if you do get it at Videorama, please give Gil my regards and tell him how much I miss him and the gang), but at other popular chains like Bagbuster, Video Mortal Nuisance and Distant Marcel's Great Cradle of Videography, called "Dinner Rush", which features, among others, Danny Aiello and Sandra Bernhardt -actually, it's a great movie, and there aren't that many of 'em, so listen up.
It's about a popular and newly trendy Italian restaurant in New York City with mob ties, and it's greatest strength is that it captures this milieu -the snooty, high-tone dining room with a high-pressure, hot, crowded kitchen -perfectly. Fans of "Big Night", another old favorite about the restaurant biz, might particularly enjoy it, even though it is less funny; in turn, it is more atmospheric and realistic, albeit still very romantic and cinematic.
The movie is beautifully shot and scored, at times reminding me of Bernard Herrman and his wonderful music for "Taxi Driver", not to mention the dark, subdued neon look of the rainy city streets in the same film. "Dinner Rush" has interesting, believable characters and an elegantly scruffy soul; it might be the best thing we've seen since "Aberdeen" (and if you haven't seen that one yet, well, hurry up, dammit -it's at both Idle Times in Eastham (hi Jeanie!) and Down Under in Wellfleet.) (Not to mention Dr. Horse Video Emergency in Dennis, and Video Whoa Whoa Whoa! in Chatham -some of which are made-up places that shouldn't actually be gone to -especially not in this weather.)
Getting back to "Dinner Rush", though, I'd like to add that even Mrs. K (and by that of course I mean That Enchanting Goddess Who Watches TV More Than the Rest of The Planet Combined, and thus doesn't have to like anything if she doesn't want to; but still, surprisingly, isn't nearly as jaded as you'd think someone might be under those circumstances) quite liked "Dinner Rush" and heartily joins me in recommending it to one and all, despite the fact that it contains neither canine nor equine appearances of any kind, oh well.
Friday, March 7, 2003
Returning a Video, Part 1
Hurry... must write column... think! think! Get ideas! Writewritewrite! Whoosh! All over. Drink more, go to bed. Maybe I'm in a rut.
Staying out till dawn with the Jet Pack and the Rat Set, partying and frivoling way more than I want to, but I'll do anything when I'm chasing down a hot lead or getting ready to maul a starlet with the sharpness of my razor wit, or plying my informants with cheap liquoo-ers until they give me the deep dish on the little hotbed of local music folks around here call "The Big Sweaty." I think it was Robbie Robertson of the Band who said, "it's a hard life", and it has been that way ever since he said it.
What the hell, so, let's talk about movies this week instead. In fact, let's analyze my video rental receipt, which was presented to me recently rather unceremoniously by one of my best friends at the local mega-chain, Gil, when he was in the process of pointing out to me that I had had the movie "Gung Ho" out for more than sixty-two weeks and owed more than two hundred dollars on it.
I, of course, was incredulous, and threw a big fit, declaring my innocence and my never-wavering longtime allegiance to Videorama (which, by the way, all my friends know I constantly bad-mouth everywhere in favor of the much artier and more interesting Down Under Video in Wellfleet, which I never actually go to because it's ten minutes out of the way.)
I left in a complete huff, and then of course in no time (three days) I started to piece together what had happened: I had mistakenly returned our vacation videos from when we went to the ranch instead of the "Gung Ho" video, which obligingly enough, turned up in the case for the vacation videos as soon as I checked. So, mystery solved!
Actually, I remembered "Gung Ho", too - it was a Ron Howard movie about the car industry with Michael Keaton, and I remembered particularly hating it -like, really, really, really HATING it. And I usually like Ron Howard's stuff -though there's always been something about Michael Keaton I don't (could be his unbearably unctuous attitude, or just his big old face with the big pixie eyebrows, or could just be that I don't think we should have to live in a world where both he and Tom Hanks are quite this successful. He's a really good actor though; but still, the hell with him.)
That movie was so bad -not just ha-ha, funny/bad, or inept, or fun for any reason, but the kind of bad that just makes you really furious with whoever made the damn thing, and you'd just love to press charges somehow, to hurt whoever did that to you. There was no way I could live with myself paying $200 for "Gung Ho" -I'd rather die.
Still, how to proceed? After all, we're talking about my video store here, and it's winter -not that my video store isn't very precious to me all the time, but in the winter, it's really a sort of sanctuary. It's amazing how long you can spend in there, hours and hours just strolling through the aisles, trying not to end up showing up on date night with two Tom Berenson movies.
And of course I know everyone in there (some rather intimately), most by name, and they all know me; they've become my friends (sort of), and I treasure the relationships we have together: me being late returning movies, them trying to get me the hell out of there at closing time... I would never want to jeopardize the happy times we've shared, and the luminously desirable Mrs. Kelp is delighted I finally have somewhere else to go. So, this is not a decision I take lightly. But, for "Gung Ho"? -I don't think so.
I donned my fatigues and combat gear, loaded the Olds with trunks of high-tech American weaponry, and set off for Videorama, confidant that once I fixed Gil with my steely gaze and threw myself at his mercy, begging on my knees in abject, tear-stained misery, that he would see that this was one $200 he would never receive.
Then, suddenly, [to be continued.]
Staying out till dawn with the Jet Pack and the Rat Set, partying and frivoling way more than I want to, but I'll do anything when I'm chasing down a hot lead or getting ready to maul a starlet with the sharpness of my razor wit, or plying my informants with cheap liquoo-ers until they give me the deep dish on the little hotbed of local music folks around here call "The Big Sweaty." I think it was Robbie Robertson of the Band who said, "it's a hard life", and it has been that way ever since he said it.
What the hell, so, let's talk about movies this week instead. In fact, let's analyze my video rental receipt, which was presented to me recently rather unceremoniously by one of my best friends at the local mega-chain, Gil, when he was in the process of pointing out to me that I had had the movie "Gung Ho" out for more than sixty-two weeks and owed more than two hundred dollars on it.
I, of course, was incredulous, and threw a big fit, declaring my innocence and my never-wavering longtime allegiance to Videorama (which, by the way, all my friends know I constantly bad-mouth everywhere in favor of the much artier and more interesting Down Under Video in Wellfleet, which I never actually go to because it's ten minutes out of the way.)
I left in a complete huff, and then of course in no time (three days) I started to piece together what had happened: I had mistakenly returned our vacation videos from when we went to the ranch instead of the "Gung Ho" video, which obligingly enough, turned up in the case for the vacation videos as soon as I checked. So, mystery solved!
Actually, I remembered "Gung Ho", too - it was a Ron Howard movie about the car industry with Michael Keaton, and I remembered particularly hating it -like, really, really, really HATING it. And I usually like Ron Howard's stuff -though there's always been something about Michael Keaton I don't (could be his unbearably unctuous attitude, or just his big old face with the big pixie eyebrows, or could just be that I don't think we should have to live in a world where both he and Tom Hanks are quite this successful. He's a really good actor though; but still, the hell with him.)
That movie was so bad -not just ha-ha, funny/bad, or inept, or fun for any reason, but the kind of bad that just makes you really furious with whoever made the damn thing, and you'd just love to press charges somehow, to hurt whoever did that to you. There was no way I could live with myself paying $200 for "Gung Ho" -I'd rather die.
Still, how to proceed? After all, we're talking about my video store here, and it's winter -not that my video store isn't very precious to me all the time, but in the winter, it's really a sort of sanctuary. It's amazing how long you can spend in there, hours and hours just strolling through the aisles, trying not to end up showing up on date night with two Tom Berenson movies.
And of course I know everyone in there (some rather intimately), most by name, and they all know me; they've become my friends (sort of), and I treasure the relationships we have together: me being late returning movies, them trying to get me the hell out of there at closing time... I would never want to jeopardize the happy times we've shared, and the luminously desirable Mrs. Kelp is delighted I finally have somewhere else to go. So, this is not a decision I take lightly. But, for "Gung Ho"? -I don't think so.
I donned my fatigues and combat gear, loaded the Olds with trunks of high-tech American weaponry, and set off for Videorama, confidant that once I fixed Gil with my steely gaze and threw myself at his mercy, begging on my knees in abject, tear-stained misery, that he would see that this was one $200 he would never receive.
Then, suddenly, [to be continued.]
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