Are You There, Hollywood? It's Me-- Logic

All right, Hollywood, listen up.

Conan the Barbarian-- a surprise hit from 1980 in which Arnold Schwarzenegger grunts, yells, sticks his sword into a giant snake's jaw, and learns English as he goes. Followed by a generally disliked 1984 sequel and a 2011 remake that critics are hacking to pieces like Conan's family.

Fright Night-- a masterfully campy 1985 horror flick starring Chris Sarandon as a suave vampire, William Ragsdale as an overly imaginative teenage outcast who knows his secret, and Roddy McDowall as the late-night creature feature host who somehow gets roped into destroying the vampire. Followed by a generally disliked 1988 sequel and a 2011 remake with Collin Farrell, who in addition to Bullseye and Alexander the Great, now has "vampire" on his resume.

Planet of the Apes-- a cyclical film series reaching from 1968 to 1973, much beloved by fans of classic sci-fi, technically impressive but unrealistic ape makeup, and Charlton Heston. Followed by a merchandising empire, cartoons, a very short-lived 1974 TV series, and a 2001 "remake" by professional weirdo Tim Burton, which in turn was followed by the digitized 2011 "sequel/prequel/pseudo-remake" or whatever the heck you call Rise of the Planet of the Apes.

Well, listen, Hollywood, you've obviously had your hands full this year dredging up every decent movie ever made and reworking it into something new, uninspiring, unoriginal, and generally horrendous and disrespectful. (I just want to say, I think it's hilarious that the weekend Conan and Fright Night opened, literary adaptation The Help was tops at the box office-- thank you, people of America!) So let me save you a little time. There is one movie you are not remaking. Period.

I've let you get off with mere stern lectures with all you've done before-- reworking Fall of the Roman Empire into the dull and brainless Gladiator. Hiring the screenwriter of the brilliant 1976 supernatural thriller The Omen to remake his own masterpiece just to cash in on the 6/6/06 "event"! Well, that's fine and dandy. And to be honest, Conan the Barbarian wasn't even that great in 1980.

But keep your money-grubbing paws off Poltergeist.

Poltergeist-- a wonderful 1982 blockbuster in which crazy supernatural phenomena plague an ordinary American family-- a dad who watches too much football, a long-suffering mom, a teenage girl annoyed by everything, a little girl who sees weird things, and a tween boy who constantly gets on the nerves of his sisters. Steven Spielberg executive-produced, so the film had the same genuinely affecting family relationship drama of movies like Jaws and E.T., but it was directed by Tobe Hooper (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre), so it was extremely creepy. It was scored by none other than Jerry Goldsmith (the Omen trilogy, Star Trek: The Motion Picture, Planet of the Apes, etc.), who got nominated for a certain award for it, and in addition to the standard eerie, ominous and suspenseful music, it also featured one of the sweetest, most astoundingly beautiful themes ever written for a motion picture, the lullaby-like "Carol Anne's Theme" (Carol Anne was the little girl).

Well, what else can I say? It had jaw-dropping special effects (which still look pretty good, I must say), not to mention one of the weirdest people ever to mosey out of a screenwriter's imagination: Tangina, the medium with the helium drawl. And, sitting here, listening to "Carol Anne's Theme," I have this sickening feeling that I'm about to be seeing a trailer for the new Poltergeist.

I don't think I could handle that. Because here's how it would happen. The eldest daughter would be played by a Kardashian. Disney Channel and Nickelodeon would supply players for the roles of the other two kids. The score would either consist of the madcap musical shenanigans of Danny Elfman, or they'd hire some atmospheric hack to do it (Tyler Bates and Marco Beltrami, come on down!) or just use horrible pop and rock songs. The storm scene would no longer feature little Robbie and Carol Anne walking in on their parents blazing up-- they'd be walking in on the most inappropriate sex scene since The Room.

And 3-D-- of course, it would be in 3-D.

So that tears it. There's no way you could conjure up a more familial brood than the original Freelings. No way you could wind up with a score that deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Goldsmith's. No way you could find another child actress to imbue Carol Anne with the sweetness and depth that were so effortless to young Heather O'Rourke. And besides, O'Rourke died just after finishing her role in the unfavorable Poltergeist III, at the age of twelve. So replacing her-- much like finding another Superman after Christopher Reeve-- is just, well... horrible!

Which means I just have to ask. What is the point of pumping so much money into this industry if all they're going to do is give us what we've already seen-- which was much, much better the first time around anyway?

An Exciting Time to Be Alive

Why waste your time in a college classroom learning about the past when you could be out experiencing the present and the future?

For one thing, college is ultimately cheaper.

For two things, the present is extremely scary, and the future-- well, the human race seems to be skyrocketing off the tracks like that train in Spider-Man 2.

But really, this is probably the most exciting time to be alive since the late 60s. I used to be totally enamored with the Vietnam Era-- a time when a massive, multifaceted juggernaut of civil rights movements begun, a time when the people of America finally, after almost two hundred years of "the same," finally allowed themselves to be different and, in so doing, advanced civilization a few centuries in the short space of a few summers (you know what I'm talking about-- hippies, women's lib, gay liberation, antiwar movements). I would love the music, the fiction, the poetry, the films, oh, dear, the films (especially those amazing epic roadshow movies we're not lucky enough to have around anymore!) and I would think, Why wasn't I born then?

So that I could be born and live in this world. Those movements that started in the 60s didn't bloom and then suddenly die. Many of them still live on and are still necessary. And I'm still not sure what to make of it, but something sparked in my human imagination when it seemed like the entire Middle East turned upside down with revolution after revolution. The hippies, the women's libbers, the gay libbers, the antiwar folks, and so on still have so much to achieve, and I really have a feeling that so many exciting things are going to happen in the next ten years or so.

Our popular music is garbage now. We've lost the ability to march with dignity. And instead of being entangled in one horrid international conflict, we are now hopelessly entangled in three. Fortunately, 60s fashion died in the 70s. Fortunately, the spirit of social equality and community didn't. And while I'd give anything to inject some Sand Pebbles, some Hawaiis, some Doctor Zhivagos and some Fiddlers on Roofs into this MTV/Tarantino-inspired cinema culture, I'm really glad to be alive at this time in history.

Okay, cinema, maybe just the occasional Ryan's Daughter?

(If you don't get these movie references, feel free to look them up.)

Clarification from the Last Post

Yeah, I also like some of those movies from that blog. Mostly Doctor Zhivago. Ivanhoe is all right. Top Gun-- eh.

Part of critiquing cinema is being able to find the faults and/or absurd things about any movie, even the good ones.

The common thread running through Zhivago-- before the Revolution starts, after the various romantic difficulties have worked themselves out-- is Omar Sharif's mustache. :)

A Little Humor for the New Year

There's something I've always wanted to do. I've wanted to engage myself as a writer of those little summaries for movies on cable TV. I think I'd be fairly good at it, immodest as it may sound. I've spent so much of my life in the glow of the screen that it's had two effects on me: (1) turned me into a huge celluloid nerd and (2) given me the gift to know when a summary misses the mark.

So here's a sampling of my proposed work. I think you'll find these are more accurate than those you'll see in the actual listings.

Independence Day (1996) Will Smith gets mad and shoots some aliens.

Scarface (1983) Al Pacino gets mad and shoots everyone in sight.

Hello, Dolly! (1969) Two and a half hours of your life you'll never get back.

The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965) Ha! Fooled ya!

Ivanhoe (1952) People who talk funnily fight over some guy with a lion's heart, and presumably the ears of a bunny.

Driving Miss Daisy (1989) Morgan Freeman challenges Jessica Tandy to the sanctified "act-off."

All the President's Men (1976) A brutal indictment of '70s politics, but mostly of '70s hair.

Rocky (1976) The life story of the world's luckiest punching bag.

Alice in Wonderland (2009) Like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with a rabbit.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2006) Like Alice in Wonderland with unnaturally white teeth.

Top Gun (1986) Story of the forbidden love between a man, a plane, and his wingman. And something about Kelly McGillis.

The Sound of Music (1965) The Austrian Partridge Family fight the Nazis with the power... of showstopping musical numbers!

Doctor Zhivago (1965) Omar Sharif grows a mustache... again.

The Last Airbender (2010) A once-revered filmmaker hits rock bottom after an eight-year descent.


And to everyone in my life-- especially those who are going through difficult times right now-- I just want you to understand that I honestly and irrevocably love you.

The Answer To Everything!

A brief message to the protesters who think the tumultuous personal strife suffered by the late Elizabeth Edwards-- including her death-- is all the result of God's anger over an accepting stance on same-sex marriage. And remember, these are the same folks who protest at soldiers' funerals.

Ahem. Protesters:

Is that your answer to everything? God hates gays, so He makes innocent people suffer? Is that really how you picture God? Vengeful and unflinching, inflicting pain on anyone even if they never committed the sin he's supposedly punishing?

Doesn't God love everyone? Didn't Christ on the cross-- which may be one of the most painful, humiliating experiences ever devised by man's twisted imagination-- turn his voice to heaven to ask God to forgive his torturers? Is that the kind of thing done by a god who smites anyone over any sin?

Most importantly of all: why must you add to the suffering of the already-beleaguered, people you claim have already been punished by God? If that's right, isn't punishment by God enough agony for them?

Personally, I don't believe God would have a problem with same-sex marriage. But I respect that people do have such an opinion. The thing is, most people who think that don't insist on using death and other senseless tragedy as a soap box for sending a message.

Call Me a Scrooge, But....

Why, you may ask (if you knew what I was listening to right now), am I listening to Miklos Rozsa's Sodom and Gomorrah soundtrack instead of immersing myself in Christmas music as the rest of the civilized world seems to have done?

A) Because Miklos Rozsa was one of the most phenomenal geniuses ever to inhabit the planet and even his score for that notoriously cruddy shambles of a screen spectacle is a glorious work of art, further reinforcing my belief that a Rozsa score could have improved even a modern joke like Transformers.

B) Because I'm already sick of it.

Christmas music has been slithering around the airwaves since early November, and I am burned out. After all, how many times can you hear "Rudolph" and "Frosty" and "White Christmas" and (shudder) "The Christmas Shoes" before you want to scream at the top of your lungs?

We of the Pacific Northwest are further graced (although disgraced may be more accurate) with the kind of regional hogwash that would make Giorgio Moroder cringe. Examples: "Christmas in the Northwest," a shamelessly emotional ballad celebrating the joys of living in a snowless but evergreen state, replete with an instrumental, string-dominated reprise of the chorus and a mention of God giving us a gift and wrapping it in... you guessed it, green; and a song whose title I believe is something like "Seattle's Latte Land," an irritating retread of "Winter Wonderland" that further reinforces the stereotype that all Seattleites are pretentious, coffee-guzzling elitists with an unhealthy appreciation for cutesy music.

I can actually, at times, enjoy the music of this festive season as much as the next guy. I absolutely love me some "harking" and "conspiring" by a "fire". But after a zillion not-too-different versions of the same old songs (local spoofs notwithstanding), enough is enough.

Here's a brief Christmas playlist that I've found serves as an effective antidote, at least temporarily, to the Xmas OD.

• A Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack by Vince Guaraldi-- Dominated by Guaraldi's now-iconic (but then unknown) music such as "Linus and Lucy" and the elegant, wondrous "Christmastime is Here," this soundtrack only sparingly relies on the old favorites. And old Chuck's holiday specials are so legendary now that no amount of airtime overload could rip it from its beloved place in all our hearts. The soundtrack CD is a must even for jazz haters like myself.
• The Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack by Danny Elfman-- "What's This," "Kidnap the Sandy Claws," etc. Not many movies can claim to be multi-seasonal (Holiday Inn and Miracle on 34th Street are the only others that come even close in my book) and not many Christmas CDs offer boxes filled with poxes as a gift suggestion.
• Bob Rivers' Twisted Christmas Albums-- The cultural-lampoon smorgasbord that gave us such unforgettable gems as "Walkin' Round in Women's Underwear," "Chipmunks Roasting on an Open Fire" (Melvinnnnnn!) and "The Restroom Door Said Gentlemen." Need I say more?
• "Road to Bethlehem/The Nativity" from King of Kings/"Star of Bethlehem/Adoration of the Magi" from Ben-Hur by Miklos Rozsa-- If you know me (or have read the upper spiel on this post), you saw this one or something like it coming. But not many composers get the chance to score the same scenario for two different movies. Those that do usually don't succeed like Rozsa. "Nativity" captures more of the weariness, joy, and uncertainty of Christ's birth; "Star" and "Magi" are more awed and reverent, yet they both sound vaguely similar. Certainly no one ever wrote more beautiful music for Christ than Rozsa, and if these offerings aren't enough to convince you, check out also: the King of Kings theme, the Christ theme from Ben-Hur, and "Quo Vadis Domine" from Quo Vadis.

So no, Sodom and Gomorrah isn't exactly Christmas-like. But the next time I hear "The Twelve Days of You-Know-What" I'm going to scream like a banshee who's just been kicked south of the equator.

No Such Thing As "Too Low to Go On"

This is a bad time in my life. A lot of people said 2009 would probably be the worst year of our lives, but in reality, I think it had a lot of highs. Another happy, healthy baby was added to my always-extending pantheon of nieces and nephews. I graduated high school, which (not to sound too proud) was a pretty big accomplishment for me.

But 2010 is shaping up to be pretty bad. Last year, people were planning on saying, "At least I survived 2009!" I plan to say, "At least I survived 2010." The cruel irony that Peter Hyams and Arthur C. Clarke's 2010 happens to be one of my all-time favorite movies is not lost on me.

Particularly this month, things just aren't really right in my world. And I'm not talking about myself because apart from being unnaturally lonely (and it feels great to type that out) and unhealthily stressed out about a college that's messing with me like a shark toddler plays with toy chum, I'm pretty much OK. It would be nice if my problems could go away (in fact, I'll be eternally grateful to anyone who happens to have a magic button or wand laying around).

But I'm more concerned about the people who are important to me. About their baby drama. About their economic woes. About their clinical depression (and there's a lot of that in the air, which is not cool). About the fact that many of the people I know and hold dear are struggling so hard and there's really nothing I can do to help them.

About the recent (but no longer new) glut of bullying-related gay suicides. I don't know anyone directly affected by it, but it should be on everybody's minds. Fortunately, Dan Savage and other incredible people have put together the It Gets Better Project with the goal of helping prevent other similar tragedies. It's horrible enough when external violence claims a life for such a stupid reason. It doesn't need to get any more horrible.

Aaaaaand to top it all off, it's election season. Which means that the airwaves (both on radio and television), phone lines, and mailboxes are inundated with the additional negativity of hack politicians trying to drag their opponents down with them. Like we needed the extra stress! (My theory: if mudslinging were banned, nobody would ever run for public office.)

The point in all this is that life works itself out in the end. It's how I can still have hope for myself, and how I still have hope for all of you. I'm an optimist, no matter how negative I skew at times. I have a friend who likes to point out how depressing some of the movies I like are. She sees Tommy as a story about a traumatized child whose life ends in despair after losing everything and everyone he holds dear. I see it as a movie about a boy who is actually cured of being deaf, dumb and blind and comes out of the horrible tragedies life throws his way battered, yes, but a wiser person. I know someone else who insists Camelot is horribly depressing because two best friends go to war when one friend betrays the other with the other's wife. I see it as a story about a man whose optimism and love help him to create a fantastic dream-- that fails, yes, but in the end, his optimism and love help him realize that there is a future as long as we remember the past. I suppose one could also see Carousel as a story about a layabout wifebeater who somehow ends up in heaven and whose widow never moves on with her life-- I see it as the quintessential tale of redemption and family love, and there is nothing downbeat about that ending on the seashore after the graduation.

Yes, these examples are all from movies. You should know how I operate by now. But you know-- no low is too low. Life is bowl-parabolic in nature. It may dip, but it always turns back upwards. Always.