Cigarettes and Movies

Just read an NYT article about the ongoing campaign by the AMA to ban cigarettes from movies. Apparently, the PG13-rated film, He's Just Not That Into You, has some cigarettes in it but no smoking. There's also a sort of anti-smoking storyline in the film.

In the past couple of years, the AMA has been fighting to get Hollywood studios to eliminate any acknowledgment of the existence of cigarettes, or their use, from films, saying that smoking in films causes 200,000 teenagers to start smoking each year. The organization wants any film with smoking in it to get an R rating.

As someone who has recently quite smoking after 15 years of the habit, I recognize how dangerous smoking can be and how difficult it is to stop. It's a pretty stupid thing to do that, I admit, I probably saw as cool or fun or grown-up in part because of depictions of smoking in popular culture. When I smoked, seeing someone smoke in a film would often trigger a desire to have a cigarette myself - of course, this was once I was already a dedicated smoker.

But fuck the AMA. It offends me deeply when some organization or another works to ban something in pop culture as a means of social engineering. And evidently, as in this latest skirmish, you don't even have to have smoking in the film to warrant a rebuke, just cigarette packaging. In the article, Melissa Wathers of the AMA Alliance (apparently a domestic spying organization in which volunteers are asked to police films for violations) says, "There is absolutely zero artistic justification for this." And you are...who, exactly?

I haven't seen the film, but I would hazard a guess that there is little "artistic justification" for its entire existence. But that's the filmmakers business, as is whether or not they find a contextual need for cigarettes in the film. Quite possibly the AMA could find some better things to do with its time.

Very few discerning people

The Oscars

The 81st Academy Awards were held the other night and I've barely thought about them since, though I'm sure that's not so for Danny Boyle. Scott had an Oscar party, which was fun, though I always feel bad when people are enthusiastic about films that I really dislike. Makes me feel like a dick. And it's weird, because it's the opposite with my film school buddies - they hate everything and say that I LOVE everything.

Anyway, some parts of the show were really hilarious - like Hugh Jackman's opening song-and-dance routine. I love how he's such a classic Broadway entertainer type-guy and also Wolverine. The best bit was the part about The Reader. The Pineapple Express skit was also a highlight of the evening:

Dustin Lance Black's speech, when he won for the Milk screenplay, was really moving. And I was glad to see Penn win again, also for Milk, which should have won Best Picture, though I would have applauded a Mickey Rourke win, too.

Seeing Black and Penn win reminded me of an Op-Ed in the NYT that day. It was co-authored by two writers on opposite sides of the gay marriage issue and proposes the compromise of federally-recognized civil unions without forcing religious groups to recognize those marriages. In other words, give gays and lesbians the right to marry by another name, with most of the same rights as straight people, but if one of these gays or lesbians happens to be a church secretary, allow that church not to extend benefits to the partner if they don't want to - much the way Catholic hospitals are not forced to perform abortions.

"In the case of gay marriage, a scorched-earth debate, pitting what some regard as nonnegotiable religious freedom against what others regard as a nonnegotiable human right, would do great harm to our civil society. When a reasonable accommodation on a tough issue seems possible, both sides should have the courage to explore it."

This is a good point, worth considering, but I don't think "separate-but-equal" works, does it? The issue is not about whether churches would actually have to marry gays and lesbians - they will never have to do so, if they don't want to, because of the First Amendment. And if religious organizations want to be able to discriminate against whomever in terms of benefits and whatnot for employees, well I think that's probably also protected, if super-dickish. I mean, we allow people to be dickheads in all kinds of ways in our society.

But I fail to see how this adds up to no federal protection for gay marriage. Carve out exceptions for churches, fine, but civil law is civil law. Full marriage rights should be available to all adult couples, right now.

The New Guy

The new guy gave a great speech last night - sort of an unofficial State of the Union. I just kept thinking, "This new guy is So Much Better than the old guy!" It was nice to hear the Congress (half of it anyway) applauding endlessly a guy who actually deserved applause, instead of cravenly whooping it up for a frightening demagogue.

I'd be interested to see an un-biased fact-check on this speech - when he says something like America invented the automobile, well, that's not strictly true, but it's also not something a Republican politician would likely dispute. There's always Presidential rhetoric to contend with and, thankfully, at least now it's not being garbled by an idiot or packed with lies. Half-truths, sure!

I also kept wanting him to throw in a couple of "bitches" and "motherfuckers" for good measure. I guess that makes me racist, since I keep hoping that Obama's gonna Shaft it up a bit.

That photo is by Jonathan Ernst/Reuters.

Coming this Sunday: The Oscars

The 81st Academy Awards will be held on Sunday; as of last night, I caught up on my Best Picture nominee viewing by watching The Reader. That I am a filmmaker and film-lover does not require me to watch the Oscars or care about them, but I am also fascinated by Hollywood history and the film business itself, and that does. I am also curious to see to what extent the "leak" of the Oscar winners turns out to be true. I do not think the leak is real, but I'm curious to see if the author is a good guesser.

The BP nominees are Milk, Slumdog Millionaire, The Reader, Frost/Nixon and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. For me, there is no question that Milk is the best film in this batch. Ideally, we'll see an upset this year - a kind of Revenge of Brokeback Mountain - that will throw over heavy-favorite Slumdog for Gus Van Sant's gay-martyr biopic, but I'm not holding my breath. (Memorably, Brokeback seemed a likely winner at the 78th Awards, only to be upset by the unfathomably stupid Crash, one of the worst BPs in my lifetime.) I also enjoyed Benjamin Button, which was an extraordinary technical achievement and which has stayed with me in ways I would not have expected initially.

I have long had a love/hate relationship with Ron Howard's work. On the one hand, I grew up with him in "Andy Griffith" reruns and on "Happy Days" and with films like Splash and Parenthood. And then there's "Arrested Development," one of the greatest TV shows of the past 30 years, which he was closely involved in producing. On the other hand, I think he's often a terrible director, responsible for awfulness like A Beautiful Mind and The Da Vinci Code. So, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed Frost/Nixon. Previous to this film, I thought Apollo 13 was his best work, so it all kind of makes sense: when he's working closely with history and has strong source material, I usually like what he does.

F/N, which I illegally downloaded and watched on my television (yep, I'm the enemy), has the benefit of a couple of great impersonations as well as being full of ideas; it's "about something." It's about a great many things, actually. These qualities go a long way to making a film watchable from my point of view, regardless of how well-directed it is; Howard is a competent craftsman, so this film is highly-watchable, involving and thought-provoking, if not particularly emotionally stirring or surprising in its outcome. I happen to really enjoy watching actors playing modern historical figures (that is, real people I have actually seen in another context), so this bias certainly aided my enjoyment of the film. My mind wandered when anyone made a speech longer than 30 seconds or so - such as Nixon's late-night drunken harangue on the phone with Frost - because I was taken out of the film at those moments and reminded that it was based on a play. And I also didn't care about the Nixon character, particularly, and didn't care what the playwright felt he should have said. But these moments were only a minor distraction from the telling of a truly interesting encounter, well-dramatized.

I feel less charitably toward The Reader. I also watched this film from a ripped screener (although, unlike F/N, it did not have Dutch subtitles), but I don't think I'd have felt better about the film if I had seen it in a theater. Kate Winslet is pretty much my favorite female star, and she's perfectly good here (I think it's likely to be her year to finally get an Oscar, too), but this is one of those "prestige" films, those Oscar-bait films, that come out at the end of each year and lull us quickly to sleep. It's a film about makeup, period details, famous-actress nudity and the Holocaust. There are no surprises - even the surprise twist is no surprise - the story just marches onward into the gloom. Every scene of the film is slathered with music to help us understand what to feel moment to moment, a practice I find endlessly irritating. Well, I guess that's Hollywood for you.

I was not a fan of director Stephen Daldry's last prestige film, The Hours, which bored me stupid. Apparently, he is set to remake My Fair Lady in 2010. Sheesh.

The Return of the Ants and Making Lemonade

The ants are back. It's been raining, practically non-stop, for days. This week's theme is "Making Lemonade." We've got plenty of water for it. There's something that happens if you just force yourself to smile every time you react to anything. I think it tricks you into being slightly happier.

I don't know. Happiness can be created, I think. It may not come from the things you think. It may not, for example, come from having a job or whatever special thing you think you want. It might just be the thing that you feel when you smile. If that's so, then you can create some for yourself by smiling rather than frowning or being stone-faced. I've been sort of trying out this approach. If I can convince myself to smile and be optimistic, then maybe I'll start feeling that way.

As it is, these could be considered dark days. But that darkness is really all in my head. People sometimes say, "I'm not being pessimistic, just realistic." Hell, I've said it - or switched out pessimism for optimism. But what does it mean to "be realistic?" If I say I want to be an astronaut, well, that's not a very realistic goal. But maybe it would make me happy to say that's what my goal was, and then something else would happen. I mean, who's to say what's realistic and what's not?

And so with happiness, it's just a feeling. I might be able to convince myself that I am happy, just by acting happy, the way you prime a pump.

Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired

This is one of the best films of the year. It's quite an artifact or, rather, it's full of artifacts from a case so bizarre I expect a musical version is coming soon. Roman Polanski is a fascinating figure; he's one of the unluckiest human beings of the past hundred years, at least, as well as one of the best film directors. Whatever your impression of him, this documentary has a thing or two to teach you. At times, it feels more like a fiction film.

I think RP got a raw deal, personally. The shit he's gone through - really, it's plenty. He's suffered enough. Cut the poor bastard a break.

Indian bones unearthed, Sword murder nearby

Some spooky happenings in Alameda in the last week. First, a public works crew digs up the bones of an Indian child in the 3000 block of Washington street when repairing a sinkhole. In the press, this child has been described as both female and of indeterminate sex.

Then, a few days later and a few blocks away, a 62-year-old man and his 40-year-old friend are drinking a bunch of beer and playing chess. An argument breaks out, they start wrestling and the older man retreats to his bedroom. Moments later, he returns with a Pakistani scimitar and stabs his friend to death. When the cops show up - they were alerted by another friend, who was present at the time - the swordsman is sitting next to his dead friend on the floor, totally unable to explain why he had done this.

Coincidence? Um, yeah. But maybe I don't have to go so far afield to find inspiration for my Indian burial ground story...

The Alameda Sun published an interesting map along with its story providing historical background for the Indian bones discovery. The A on the map is the modern-day intersection of High and Encinal; 1 is the location of the so-called "Sather Mound," one of the Ohlone shellmound garbage/burial sites that used to be here before it was dismantled and turned into concrete mix, 2 is the location of the bone discovery and 3 was marshland at the edge of the bay.

Streaming Bullshit, a Rant

From an article in today's NYT called "Digital Pirates Winning Battle With Studios":

“Streaming has gotten efficient and cheap enough and it gives users more control than downloads do. This is where piracy is headed,” said James L. McQuivey, an analyst at Forrester Research. “Consumers are under the impression that everything they want to watch should be easily streamable.” [emphasis added]

This points to one of the most infuriating aspects of the whole online "piracy" issue. We live in a society that, in certain sectors, elevates capitalism and the "free market" to the level of divinity, and all compassion, virtue, humility, morality, common sense, intelligence and even life itself is to be sacrificed, as the ancients would spill the guts and blood of goats and sheep on the marble temple mount, to this fearsome godhead - let us consider finance or the oil industry or pharmaceuticals - whereas, in other sectors, we believe in crushing into dust any emerging market that threatens the present business model, no matter how dead that model may be. I'm talking about you, Hollywood - which today means a handful of giant international conglomerates.

Is it possible, has any of these brilliant analysts even stopped for a second to consider, that if "consumers are under the impression that everything they want to watch should be easily streamable," that consumers might be right? As far as the MSM is concerned, the only people who would put forth this argument are wild-eyed, long-haired, dirty-hippie anarchist pirates - a word that is used to make ordinary college students sound as dangerous and criminal as those crazy motherfuckers in Somalia who hijacked that oil tanker a couple months ago.

Do you think college students are as dangerous as those crazy motherfuckers in Somalia who hijacked that oil tanker a couple months ago?

Just as suing Napster, P2P software companies and, eventually, music fans themselves did absolutely nothing to help the music industry (1) stop music file-sharing or (2) save its business model or (3) not look like miserable cunts, so will trying to stop "piracy" completely and totally fail to save Hollywood's old business model. Yes, the stakes are THAT low - this is just about a freaking business model!

Capitalism is, by fucking definition, about rooting out and CAPITALIZING ON emerging markets; once a business model fails, a company that clings to it is doomed to fail, too! Didn't you pricks go to business school? Sorry, I mean, didn't you pricks go to elementary school?

But what's much worse is the way the MSM is telling only the studios' version of the story. It makes sense, of course - it's the same industry. That doesn't mean it's not a disgrace.

Classic at the Alameda: Coming Soon

The theater up the block has announced the slate of classic films for the rest of February:

The Great Escape, Feb 11 and 12
Doctor Zhivago, Feb 18 and 19
Gone with the Wind, Feb 25 and 26

I have never seen Zhivago and it's been a while for the Great Escape - and I haven't seen Gone with the Wind on the big screen. It looks like I'm going to have to limit my trips to the movie theater for a while, so I'll probably skip these, as much as I don't want to. If anyone's out there, though, and you have the time and income - I encourage you to go to as many of these as you can. If the community can give reasonable support to this effort at repertory film screening, perhaps it will continue for a while.

Sure, I bitch about the quality of the projection - but the truth is, no one is doing this. I mean, there are maybe a handful of theaters in the country that are playing old movies. No one goes to see them and so they don't make money. You haven't really seen any of these movies until you've seen them on the big screen, so don't miss the opportunity.

Classics at The Alameda: Rear Window

This week's classic at the Alameda Theatre and Cineplex is 1954's Rear Window, another personal favorite. It could be the Hitchcock film I've seen the most, though this was the first time on the big screen. The tolerable print today was from a fairly recent restoration; the projection had the usual issues with weak focus which, again, I don't fully understand but assume must be related to the quality of the print. At least, that's what I am now telling myself.

Hitch opens an intellectual can of worms in Rear Window - and his clock-winding cameo here is my favorite - before dashing out an ending almost before you know what hits you. I suppose that's better than dragging it out. I love Jimmy Stewart's curmudgeonly mid-period more than his early cockeyed gee-whiz persona and he's great here as the guy who tries to resist Grace Kelly, which is about the most taxing thing he's asked to do. I can understand trying to resist Grace Kelly. Any self-respecting man would have to at least try to resist her shimmering perfection. She is the Most Beautiful Girl Who Ever Lived, here playing the Cinema's Best Girlfriend, and one would not want her head to get any bigger. She doesn't really seem like she has a big head, but trust your instincts.

You still want to smack Stewart, though, each time he rebuffs her. There's a great deal more going on in this movie, of course, but somehow it feels like all that's really going on is Jimmy Stewart trying, and failing, to resist Grace Kelly. There's probably a lesson in there about movies and what they're really about and about movie stars and what they're really for, but I'm not sure I can articulate it. I just know that, if you've got Grace Kelly in your picture, all you have to do is get some guy to try to resist her, then put her in peril for a hot second and then you're done - which surely explains the wam-bam ending.

This is one of those films that has stood the test of time more for what it has said, and what it continues to say, about us than for what it's "about." I say it's "about" a man trying and failing to resist Grace Kelly's supernatural charms and also, okay, fine, some piffle about a murder and Thelma Ritter cracking wise. But all of that (apart from the Grace Kelly bit) is pretty inconsequential, by which I mean standard and rather forgettable. I mean, I never remember the details of this movie and I have seen it maybe a dozen times or more. I don't remember about the saw and the knife and the ring and the jewelry, I don't remember what happens to Miss Lonelyhearts or Torso, and I forget each time what finally clues in Raymond Burr to Jimmy Stewart - although if I spent more time worrying about the consequences of trying to resist Grace Kelly I might eventually put that one together.

Pretty much the only thing I remember, besides Grace Kelly, is Jimmy Stewart peering into that long lens, the "portable keyhole," as Ritter calls it. This is the film's key image, you might say, which is what Ritter's telling us if we'll listen. So, onto the whole voyeur thing and the psychoanalytic interpretations - but what about: how do we see the film now, as opposed to how it was seen in 1954? The characters talk about mid-fifties notions of privacy; how does this seem to us, in the age of Facebook and Total Information Awareness?

McLuhan must have loved this film. Stewart's camera technology extends his gaze deep into his subject's lives, but if they all turn to look at him, like some networked panopticon of that gaze returned, he might break and break again. What's worse, seeing or being seen? Is Total Information Awareness...death?

The MGM cartoon short, Goggle Fishing Bear, amused audience members, as did the following exchange between Thelma Ritter and Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window:

- I got a nose for trouble. Can smell it ten miles away.
You heard of that market crash in '29? I predicted that.

-Just how did you do that, Stella?

-Oh, simple. I was nursing a director of General Motors.
"Kidney ailment," they said. "Nerves," I said.
Then I asked myself,
'What's General Motors got to be nervous about?"
"Overproduction," I says. "Collapse."
When General Motors has to go to the bathroom ten times a day,
The whole country's ready to let go.

-You know, Stella, in economics, a kidney ailment
Has no relationship to the stock market. None whatsoever.

- Crashed, didn't it?

The Myth of My Dumb Friends

Here is a brief article that appeared in the December 2008 edition of Alameda magazine, written by Mary McInerney:

If you love the story of Jim Morrison of The Doors placing a marker in Jackson Park in memory of his “dumb friends” at Alameda High School, maybe you shouldn’t read any further.
The truth is he didn’t do it. Yes, Morrison lived in Alameda. And yes, he attended Alameda High. He may have even hung out in Jackson Park with his friends. But the real story of the marker is a whole lot more ordinary—albeit pretty amusing and kind of weird, too—than the legend that surrounds it.
In 1920, 37 years before Morrison arrived in Alameda, Isabelle Clark, an old-time resident of the neighborhood, had the marker and a giant, curved concrete bench built at the south end of Jackson Park. According to Woodruff Minor’s book Alameda at Play, the marker was placed by Clark in honor of her late husband. It reads, “In Memory of My Dumb Friends.” A slight? Not at all. “Mrs. Clark loved animals, hence the inscription,” Minor writes. A drinking trough—presumably for her beloved but speechless animals—was originally part of the Clark Memorial but has since been removed.
Over the years, the urban myth arose that Jim Morrison, who was 13 when his family moved to Alameda for two years in 1957, came back and placed the “Dumb Friends” marker to remember his high school buddies. The year Morrison moved to Alameda, Jack Kerouac’s On the Road was newly published. “Fud” Ford, who met Morrison during the first weeks of ninth grade at Alameda High, remembered the time well.
“We wanted to be beatniks like the characters in On the Road,” Ford recounts in Frank Lisciandro’s A Feast of Friends. “We’d put on sweatshirts and Levis and wear sandals and go over to San Francisco, to North Beach and hang out … in front of the coffeehouses, or go in and listen to the poetry sometimes.”
When his family left for Virginia, Morrison didn’t leave much behind in Alameda, other than his friends’ fond memories. “We wanted to get on the road and travel and go taste beer in Mexico and see if we could pick up women in France,” Ford told Lisciandro. “Just mostly fantasies: what turned out to be fantasies for me, reality for him.”