Daniel Carlson

About movies, mostly.

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Month: October 2008

Storm At Sea

Craig Thompson’s Blankets is almost frustratingly good, a sharp, brutal, heartbreaking story about growing and falling in love and learning your place in a world whose joys and cruelties you are only beginning to understand. Over the course of 600 black and white pages, Thompson lays himself completely bare, working through an autobiography that touches on everything from sexual abuse, fundamentalist dogma, and the kind of heartache borne of the obsessive love practiced by broken youth.
One of the many glories of the book is the way Thompson masterfully mixes art and dialogue to maximize emotional impact and achieve something that would not be possible in either a filmed or pictureless medium. The words skate across the page, blasting in jagged edges when the boy Craig is admonished by his father, or curling through snowflakes and archangels when the teenage Craig begins to fall in desperate love for the very first time. Thompson’s graphic novel is just that: A prime example of what the medium can be, and the way it can lay you low.
The author shuttles back and forth between childhood and adolescence but traces a narrative that spends most of its time in high school, when Craig comes to grips with the extreme Christianity in which he was raised and realizes that the world is a more complicated place than Sunday school would have him believe. Thompson’s exploration of this theme is never cliche or trite or easy, and the details of his struggle to unite his faith and humanity are honest and sad and sweet and full of the kinds of revelations perhaps only those who grew up that way will understand. The book isn’t cruel toward the misguided people whose zealotry perverted the gospel; if anything, it’s a yearning look at what it means to really believe. Thompson’s story is a beautiful, intelligent, and engaging one about what it means to fall in love and get a little older and discover that, scars aside, you’ll come out the other side. It’s shattering, uplifting, and unforgettable.

Try Not To Let The Irony Hit You All At Once

The launch of MTVMusic.com is good news, since now you can search, share, and embed music videos from the archives. The design and some of the images play on MTV’s heyday, with ads featuring images of everything from Michael Jackson to the animated movers from Dire Straits’ “Money for Nothing,” but that’s a good thing. It’s like a constant reminder that, though MTV has always been about processing and selling and packaging pop, part of that used to be video-oriented. The site has the potential to be a higher-res YouTube, though it remains to be seen just how much content will be available. Still, I was heartened to find this clip just one short search away.
Here’s “Jagged,” by Old 97’s (or you can click through for a slightly larger version):

And what the hell, here’s Ryan Adams’ “New York, New York”:

The Empty Bottle Was Half-Empty

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You better believe there are more. There are also updates here.

Review: Changeling

I swear, eventually I will see a movie this fall that gets me excited, that moves me or hits me. This isn’t it.
Click here for the review.

They Went With Someone Who Had More Theme Park Experience

As part of the ongoing Pajiba Blockbusters series, I take a look at Swingers. It’s impossible to convey in the review or here just how much the movie became a part of my life when I saw it at 14, and how it grew with me through 18, 21, 26. It still works. It still stings. It still soothes.
Anyway: Click here for the review.

Greatest Hits: 2008, Part 1

A roundup of the semi-decent entries on this here blog-type thing from the first half of this year.
The Musical Coda
10 Truths
Forthcoming Entries In The Girls Gone Wild Series
The Ducks Are Back
“A Newspaper Can’t Love You Back”
Shame Of Baghdad
Paley Fest write-ups: Part 1 and Part 2
A Breakdown Of My Problems
Office Haiku
Courses My University Should Have Offered
Halloween in Memphis
Here’s To The Halcyon
The Times They Are A-Changin’
Thoughts on Revertigo
The Damning Effects Of The Masculinity Movement
Ways In Which I Am Like A Bear
I Ain’t Here For Business, I’m Only Here For Fun

Review: W.

Kind of all over the place.
Click here for the review.
The headline is taken from “Christ for President,” since I’ve been listening to the classic Mermaid Avenue recently. In that spirit, here are a couple others I find myself singing in the shower.
“Ingrid Bergman”:

“California Stars”:

Sailing The Sword Of Orion: “Sports Night,” Ten Years Later

“There’s really nothing like seeing a guy realize he’s not done yet. Usually it goes the other way.”

There was never any doubt that I would buy the newly issued 10th anniversary set of “Sports Night,” Aaron Sorkin’s half-hour sitcomish drama/serious comedy that ran for two earnest and (for me) life-changing seasons on ABC from 1998-2000. I already own the original set issued a few years ago, but the folks at Shout Factory (who were also behind the “Freaks & Geeks” set) engineered a nice box that adds a few commentaries and featurettes. The series was Sorkin’s first foray into TV, and that freshness brimmed over into the plots, the beats, and the general rhythm of the show. But the series will always stand out for me because it’s the first one I ever really and truly loved, and I pined for it in the way only a 16- or 17-year-old could, full of love and sadness and a belief that I knew pain and that I was somehow being born into the world of adult drama by regularly tuning in to watch a series the lives of the anchors and production staff of a cable sports show. If we measure a given series’ (or film’s) impact in our lives by the way it meshes with our worldview, then we love even more those stories that actually shape that worldview, hew it out of rock and fear and youth and give us something greater than what we’re seeing; that somehow give us access to the great emotion behind it all, that sense of falling and becoming that’s as powerful as it is fleeting. There are a host of other shows I love for those reasons or ones that are awfully close, but “Sports Night” was the first.

“I want you to trust me, just once, when I tell you that you have three 7s and I have a straight.”

Sorkin’s series was always about the lengths the characters would go to just to save each other from being alone, often/especially in a bigger sense than just a romantic one. In the first season’s “The Hungry and the Hunted,” Jeremy receives what’s known around the office as “the call,” the characters’ emotional recognition of one of their own and their offer of trust and friendship. It sounds incredibly corny to write and almost impossible to pull off, but Sorkin’s heart never left his sleeve, and the episode served as a meta-call for what it wanted in its own viewers. Here is a place, Sorkin seems to say, where people will put their guard down for 22 minutes at a time. I’d never seen that before, and certainly not with any kind of actual effort put into the characterizations. Sorkin was fascinated by the way people are forced to trust each other in relationships, walking right up the blind edge and jumping. Jeremy calls Natalie on her habit of ending relationships before they begin to avoid emotional risk; a year late, Sam tells Dana basically the same thing as he ends his temporary gig at the station. The Dan-Rebecca arc of the first year mined the same territory, from the obvious moments about tearing down walls made of pain to sweet ones set to the strains of “Sloop John B.” The stories placed such a premium on acceptance and connection, but Sorkin did it with a sense of genuine humor and warmth and honesty that made everything feel real.

“Sometimes it’s worth it, taking all the pies in the face. Sometimes you come through it feeling good.”
“And how was your day?”
“Sometimes you just stand there, hip deep in pie.”

But the show was also wonderfully funny, the first time Sorkin could begin to work out the kinks in the joke rhythms he carried over into “The West Wing” when it began on NBC during the second and final year of “Sports Night.” Yes, the lives of the characters are taken seriously, and not immune to melodrama — the Casey/Dana/Gordon triangle gets awfully tangled and punchy toward the end of the first season, and let’s not even get into the whole choreo-animator thing — but Sorkin’s humor helped ground the characters. The second season’s “The Cut Man Cometh” is a fantastic example of a series hitting its stride, from the writing to the acting to the sharp editing that moved the humor beyond what you’d expect from a typical half-hour show. Dan’s signoff at the very end is still a perfect kicker.

“Look, things are gonna be a little rough for a little while, but Lou, I want you to keep your head in the game. We’ll come out the other side of this no problem.”

More than anything, though, the show was unapologetic in the way these characters were a broken but unshakable family unit, a group of people dealing with stiff industry competition and financial hardships and an uphill battle to do what they loved that they still fought with everything they had. Dan Rydell’s emotional breakdown over the course of the second season wasn’t just a way to grow the character: It forced the show’s world to choose between pulling together or pulling apart, and seeing the character who most often had been the family’s moral center begin to veer off course was startling in its effect and heartbreaking in its ultimate resolution. He appears at the office seder to say, “It seems to me that more and more we’ve come to expect less and less from each other, and I’d like to be the first to start bucking that trend. We need each other badly. Badly. I need you all badly.” It was a kind of callback to a speech he gave Natalie more than a year before after she was assaulted by an athlete, saying at the time, “No matter what you decide, you’ve got friends. And this is what friends gear up for.” The series was also the place Sorkin began expressing his belief in the idea of fighting a good fight despite (or because of) losing odds: Jeremy references the line from The Lion in Winter about how when a fall is all a man has left, “it matters a great deal,” which was Jed Bartlet’s whole thing on “The West Wing.” The show was sweet and sad, proud to walk through life wounded if that’s what it took to stay honest. When I watch it, I still see its flaws — the network-mandated laugh track in the first season; the over-dependence on certain joke structures; the “Thespis” episode in general — but even those shortcomings remind of what it was to watch it the first time a decade ago, to find myself drawn into a new world that ran for two short years but that was allowed to go out with a strong and genuine resolution that makes you feel that the characters are still out there, that their world is still turning.

Jeremy’s hunting experience:

Dan’s apology:

Isaac and the Confederate flag:

Casey learns the names:

Review: Body of Lies

I’d call it a letdown, but then, I didn’t expect that much.
Click here for the review.

You Had Me At “Hookers And Meatloaf”

Over at the Willamette Week, I take a look at “The Life & Times of Tim,” which so far is the only fall comedy that’s actually made me laugh.
Click here for the column.

Jolly Men Are We

A recent comment diversion on Pajiba asked readers to relate their favorite tales of the pranks they’ve pulled or heard about, and it wasn’t long before a college friend of mine asked if he could tell a story involving me, some classmates, and two handfuls of flour. I of course told him he could share the adventure, and I’m reposting his words here:

‘Twas a crisp December evening in Texas, and revenge was in the air. Our fraternity brothers had grown fond of the Jackassian art of “antiquing,” grabbing a handful of flour and hurling it into the grill of an unsuspecting foe.
Since one of our brothers was departing at the end of that fall semester to pursue a nondescript West Coast internship (to protect the guilty, his name has been changed to Can Darlson), we wanted to send him off with one last hurrah. In this case, he wanted nothing more than to deliver the antiquing of a lifetime to a college nemesis who we’ll call Custy Dooper.
This deep-seated hatred we had for Custy went back a few years, to when he manipulated hundreds into electing him class president. He abused the office to get girls with normally high standards to dramatically lower them for him, then kept schluffing his way through college — annoying the hell out of anyone in his way. Custy pledged the same fraternity that Can’s father did in the ’70s, and labeled him a shameful traitor for not following in dad’s footsteps. Can resented the implication as he went his separate way, and vowed that he would exact revenge at the proper moment.
Which brings us back to that fateful evening. Our recon team spotted Custy smoking cigars with a group of his frat brothers in their favorite after-hours hangout, Denny’s. We put spotters in place and waited for the right moment. I, the getaway driver, drove Can to a convenience store, where he picked up a 2-pound bag of Gold Medal All-Purpose Bleached — a blend of select hard and soft wheat that sticks just right to a 5 o’clock shadow.
Can pocketed two handfuls in each jacket pocket and meandered into the restaurant. He declined a menu and paused to let the cold fog fade from his glasses, fixing his eyes on the table of unsuspecting targets. The plan was for a quick in-and-out job, and so my concern grew when Can took his sweet time walking over to the table to make small talk. I didn’t realize at the time that this was a clever tactic to lower their guard. After about 5 minutes Can said his goodbyes and met eyes with Custy for what would be the last time. He still smiles when he remembers the way those dopey eyes blinked twice after the first handful of tightly packed powder distinguished Custy’s Swisher Sweet and blanketed his face. Time stood still as Can unloaded the second handful into the despicable mouth of his nemesis, provoking a gagging sound.
Custy’s frat brothers sat motionless as Can turned heel and ran the fastest 20-yard dash of his life and dove headfirst through the open door and into the passenger seat of my ’91 Nissan Sentra. Adrenaline-filled jubilee ensued as the night ended with laughs and a case of Shiner Bock.
What the prank lacked in intricate thought, it made up for in a precious culmination of 4 years of buildup.

Craigslist Comes Through Once Again

An actual posting from the Los Angeles pages:
The titles just write themselves:
Touch My Wasilla
Impalin’ Palin
Areola Wolf Gunning
No, Seriously, Drill Baby Drill
The Bush Doctrine: You Know, the Other Kind

Review: Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist

Meh. It’s not without a couple of cute and mildly original moments, but overall, it’s not really worth it. I also didn’t feel like getting into the whole thing of how the characters are named after a classic literary/film couple and yet set in a modern technological age, which seemed almost to obvious to be worth mentioning.
Anyway: Click here for the review.
Also, Kat Dennings? Pretty damn pretty. I mean, come on: