Antichrist Television Blues.

As it goes with so many of his posts on Counterforce, this one starts with Marco emailing Lollipop and asking her a question about who knows what, seeking advice and inspiration. There’s a suggestion that one should put their thinking cap on, and then…

from here.

Lollipop Gomez: I was always so confused when people in elementary school would say put your thinking caps on. Like.. wait, an actual CAP? A pen cap?

Oh, for a future Lost post, I insist you use one of these AMAZING photographs of sawyer from his early modeling days.

from here.

Marco Sparks: Yeah, sometimes in school I would get bored and draw little doodles of people with these big electorate and bizarre mechanical things that would go on their heads and spool up power and stroke the electromagnetic waves of their brain to inspire, I don’t know, thoughts.

Man, those pictures. That’s hilarious. Thank you. Like something out of Cool World. What are they going for there… like an early Brad Pitt thing?

LG: They’re going for an early HOT thing. I don’t know, actually. He looks completely different now. I’m sure that’s intentional. But man do those photos encapsulate the aesthetic of the 90s or what? Which is interesting because LOST as much as I can’t stand the way it manipulates its viewers week after week totally encapsulates the TV of the ’00s: with the Internet & Tivo (and even more, DVR which is becoming standard in cable packages now), people are much choosier about what they want to watch and they demand a much higher quality than ever before. Lost, while being pure entertainment, is also a really complicated show that’s difficult to follow — can you imagine that kind of show in the 80s?

And if you use that in a future post, please credit me as a “pop culture scholar.”

Marco: Oh, I will. (editor’s note: It’s this post. The one that you’re reading. Fourth wall? Gone!) Gladly.

But you’re absolutely right. Lost is the ultimate example of a show for this day and age. It’s deeper than just what’s on the surface, in the sense that… for lack of a better metaphor… you can wiki it, or make a wiki out of it. It forces you to make certain connections on your own, and to bring certain meanings to it yourself.

The 90s water cooler show was Seinfeld, sitting around with people after the fact, just repeating jokes and single lines that you heard the previous night and guffawing. The most depth you got was “I loved the way that so and so did this and that.” But with Lost, you’re not just admiring and recapping, you’re hypothesizing constantly. You feel as if you’re a part of the thing, as if you’re as important to it as it is to you.

LG: And the other thing, thinking about it from say, a creator’s perspective, it forces you to follow it week after week. And that’s exactly it, you keep thinking about it and making connections. Which is why, I hate when people say “TV rots your brain”, maybe it used to, but it certainly doesn’t any more. The Sopranos totally ushered in that age; of shows where not everything was handed to you and you had to think about it and look for the subtext and the meaning. And I think (and this is a cheesy hypothesis but this is on the cuff), that maybe that has something to do with it being the uncertain twenty first century. In the 90s we were clintonized and happy and the most drama we had was the president having phone sex with an intern. We had no idea what to expect with the ’00s; and now we are kind of forced to be much more self reflexive with the economy and having no idea what the hell is going to happen next. So, the TV shows are more serious; more complex and more involved.

Does that make sense?

Marco: Yeah, perfectly. It’s a weird time now, just cause of the 00s, but we’ve gone from”Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow” (or “Don’t stop believing“) to whatever the hell was going on in the past 8 years (hello rise of post-apocalyptic worries and fears that drifted into our collective pop cultural unconscious zeitgeist) to this new age. We’re still scared, we’re still afraid, but at the same time… we can that “yes, we can.” We’ve been happy, we’ve been terrified, but now, even though things are bad, we know that we can do amazing things if we really work at it.

And TV rotting your brain… yeah, maybe once upon a time. The premium cable TV shows, following the British model of doing TV, did change that. An episode of your favorite show can now be a chapter in the amazing novel that you’re reading and watching enacted on the tapestry of the cathode ray before you. It’s an amazing time.

And we’re accepting heavily serialized television too! Some shows don’t make it because they’re buying into a serialized story just to do so (like Jericho, from what I gathered), but some are working, like Lost. And back in the 90s, that never happened. Remember Twin Peaks? You had to watch every episode and if you missed one, you were fucked hard. So of course it failed.

LG: There’s a great book called Everything Bad Is Good For You that focuses on video games, mostly and how they’ve become incredibly complex and layered and how they can teach kids comprehension and analytical skills rather than rot their brains. It’s the same thing with television. We are totally in a golden age of it; even the old style of sitcoms no longer really exists. I ended up watching a traditional sitcom the other night because it was on after another show and you compare that with say, an episode of The Office or even a mediocre show like My Name is Earl, and there is no comparison. We don’t need to be told when to laugh; we know when the joke is funny now.

Okay, now I’ve gone off on a different tangent but this is a very uncertain time and I kind of love it. I’m kind of excited to see what happens with all these old industries that are no longer working; they are being forced to evolve or die. Everyone has to adapt. Like with TV, people are more sophisticated now, even if they don’t appear to be.

you know what’s a good serialized drama that lost me mid-way? Rescue Me. Maybe I write a post on the first season, which was amazing.

Marco: Is that show good? I’ve caught bits and pieces here and there and didn’t dislike anything I saw. In fact, what I saw was intriguing, but something holds me back from that show. You know what it is? Leary himself. You play a character like this once, and you do it well, that’s fantastic. I guess it irks me when this is the kind of character he always plays. You know his show before this one? The Job, which was a short lived dramedy about him as a NY cop and it was pretty much the same, just cops instead of firefighters, and no post-9/11 purpose, and from the episode or two I caught, not that bad. I guess I just don’t this as his brand. Dylan Moran, who was excellent as an alcoholic misanthrope in Black Books, and seems to be one in real life if his astronomically hilarious comedy specials are to be believed, still changes up his thing in other roles.

Going back a step, part of me misses the half monster of the week/half serialized shows like The X-Files (even though the serialized parts were shit because they just were never going to give you the answers about those aliens each week)(the same as a main character is not going to die in week 2 of a show like Harper’s Island), or in the Star Trek mold, which rarely tested the half serialized mold.

But what’s next for all of these mediums as things change? A friend of mine who follows video game trends tells me that besides flashy bells and whistles, the video game industry is stagnant. Another friend who obsesses over web 2.0 and folksonomics, tells me that social networking is getting the same way, and that the future of all these things is true interactivity. At least, of some sort. Granted, that’s not economically viable in television, or part of me thinks the human race is too lazy to do anything but watch, but I ask you, Lollipop, what’s next? What’s the new thing going to be?

And to get Lollipop’s answer and so much more, you’re just going to have to check back with us tomorrow…

Or, to put it more succinctly: To Be Continued!


Islands of the dead.

I’m just going to be as cut to the chase and classy as I can with this: last night’s episode of Lost gave me an erection of awesomeness.

I mean, right?

Predictably, since it was a Ben episode, we got a little more details, some holes filled in the various back stories, and plenty of fodder for future speculation.

Some quick thoughts:

Locke. Granted, it’s a Ben episode, but I really dig the “new John Locke” that we’ve been seeing post-resurrection. He’s more serene, operating with more of a purpose, and appears to have a Nic Cage-sized sense of knowing things. Goodbye sometimes confused and lost old man, and hello to embracing the fully confident new leader of the Others. And it sounds like he’s not crazy about housing his people in the barracks when they could be out in the wild. Roughing it!

Ben. He’s always been a little more than just the villain of the piece, but now, I have to say that it’s riveting watching him constantly working his games on people and setting up his machinations. And Michael Emerson’s portrayal of this character is fascinating in that no matter how confused or thrown for a loop the character ever could be, you can tell that the wheels are always still spinning in his brain.

Sure, the guy’s always lying, but I think that his most honest moment was probably last year when he was traipsing through the jungle with Hurley and Locke and had to pause to say: “How many times do I have to tell you, John? I always have a plan.” Good times.

Caesar. Ha ha.

Rousseau. Her encounter with Ben not only made me think that we may actually be done with her character now, but also makes me want to go back to season 2 and watch his first episode again. Lindelof wasn’t kidding when he teased that the two of them “had words” at some point in the past. Also, I think that the whispers have moved up a slots higher on the list of things I’m curious about.

Alex. Interesting how she became both Ben’s one decent quality (and you just have to be amazed that she was raised as well as she was, considering who her “dad” was) and seemingly that noose hanging over his head.

Richard Alpert, Benjamin Light’s #1 man crush. For starters, Ben was totally his Alex, right? Seemingly he was always cheering him on just a little (until Locke came alone), yeah? Secondly, he totally lies to Widmore about what Jacob wants, but Widmore just kind of goes with it, which I find fascinating, even though he really din’t have a choice. Speaking of which…

Jacob! Seemingly, he and the Island are one in the same, especially if you wanted to use them in a sentence. So, If I were to say to you, “Jacob wanted me to kick you in the balls,” then you could easily just as well say, “The Island wanted me to kick you in the balls.” Also, Jacob seems to be the magic word to use in just about every situation. You’re pissed and want to know why I just kicked you square in your balls? It’s simple. Jacob wanted me to. Sorry. You can’t argue with that.

Charles Widmore. Well, Chuck here didn’t leave the way I was thinking he would (I was hoping for a turn of the frozen donkey wheel, after being tricked into doing it by Ben), but this was just as interesting. Of course, after the fiasco with the baby Alex situation, it didn’t seem like it would’ve been too hard for Ben to make quick business of him. Also, try to ignore that he’s seriously rounding up on how long he’s been trying to get back to the Island.

Also, it’s interesting to see the new guy playing the middle aged Widmore, who looks a lot like Alan Dale, especially with that wig they gave him. Of course, the guy who played teenage Widmore back in the 50s looked a lot like Alan Dale too. Oddly, teenage Widmore guy and middle aged Widmore guy look nothing alike. Let’s hope they do just as good with the actress coming in to play middle aged Eloise.

Annddd, I’m fascinated by the symbol on the vests of the Others guys who were escorting Widmore (don’t ask my why, but I got a total Nixon vibe in that scene) to the submarine, which also had the symbol on it. It seems to be based on the Taoist ba gua, much like the DHARMA logo. A hold over from the Purge?

Desmond! A collective “Whew!” comes over the audience to find that his family and he weren’t violently murdered by Ben, even though I think Ben effectively got the revenge he sought against Widmore in the transaction. But also perhaps found a glimmer of a soul in himself too. And we got to see Desmond deserve a nice little beat down as well. I really want to go watch that sad little phone call Ben makes to Jack in “316.”

The Monster! Ah, the monster. They tell us over and over again, that it’s not a nanotech swarm (which I really want it to be even more now after having finished Michael Crichton’s Prey today), and yet… wouldn’t that make perfect sense? The way the “creature” transitions from it’s Monster state to it’s human replica capable of real conversational interactions (and throwing people against walls) is intriguing as hell.

Also, like Locke, I think all the monster wanted was an apology and some remorse. And some undying fear of God loyalty for the new leader of the Others. And you know what? I think it’s going to happen.

Oh, and The Question: What lies in the shadow of the statue?

Ooooh. I think something very interesting it happening with the red shirts of Ajira flight 316. Perhaps their tiny brains are being taken over? Or perhaps, just perhaps, they aren’t there on accident and have something to do with the upcoming war that Widmore has warned us about. Plus, I love that Frank Lapidus enters every scene he’s in like he just stumbled out of a bender. If they only gave him a drinking scene with Desmond he’d be my favorite character.

Next week: Miles talks to dead people! (Spoiler: Naomi appears). Dr. Pierre Chang! Hurley (who also talks to dead people) and… what appears to just be some awesome good times with the DHARMA gang back in the 70s. That, or we’re going to outer space, brotha!

But tonight is the premiere of Harper’s Island, the 13 week close ended episodic television version And Then There Was None meets your average cheap slasher flick, where a group of well to do strangers go to a wedding on an island, and then slowly get picked off one by one by a mysterious killer who has a beef with them from the past.

At Wonder-Con, Lollipop and August and I attended a panel promoting the show, but held by the makers of the Lonelygirl15 franchise, who were executing an online web series meant to tie in to the main show. The whole presentation was laughably bad, and the show appeared to be ridiculously shot “video blogs” of a cute girl who couldn’t stop herself from accidentally filming her boobs all the time.

I love mysteries and horror movies, but I’ve always preferred the “slasher” films because, typically, you get that little bit of whodunnit involved. The mysteries are usually either retarded or too easy to figure out, but maybe that’s half the fun too. More so if they’re trashy. And this show just sounds like one of interesting ideas that can only be executed horribly. I’m watching the first few minutes of this as I type and aside from Final Girl to be Elaine Cassidy (who was wonderful in Atom Egoyan’s Felicia’s Journey), Richard Burgi being his usual level of sleaze, and Harry Hamlin making eyes at some twink in the wedding party, this is just a bunch of nobodies that you can’t wait to see get offed (though I’d suggest that you just go watch the original April Fools’ Day instead). Secluded island murder porn, here we come.

The angel in the marble.

Two of the things I tend to ramble on about quite a bit here are art and Lost. Like… excessively, right? Well, today is just more of the same, so I hope you love it. :)

I’ve been fortunate to meet a lot of interesting people online since we started here at Counterforce (I know, I know, it’s shocking to hear that people actually read this site), including a few fellow ridiculous Lost fanatics. But recently, one of those wonderful people that I’ve encountered in my online travels, the amazing and lovely Lia, started watching Lost herself. In fact, when she sent me a message the other day asking me whether the Others were scary magical or just another group of survivors who had just plain gone wrong, I had to seriously bite my lip from the hundred million responses I could give to that question. Instead, I think I answered with something trite like, “Keep watching,” I believe. Sorry, Lia, but don’t worry, they’re the good guys.

But her journey through season 1 got me thinking about it myself. That and conversating with another friend of mine about the movie Taken, which he loved because it’s an hour and a half of Liam Neeson going Jason Bourne’s badass daddy all over Europe as he tries to get back his kidnapped daughter, played by Maggie Grace, who played Shannon way back when on Lost. That was easily a hundred million years ago.

Long story short, I got to thinking about those days of the show, and the characters, and I fondling traveled back to the episode “Hearts And Minds,” the only Boone-centric episode, the one in which Locke takes Boone out into the woods and through the aid of a few chemicals (in a very Carlos Castenada hallucinogenic style), helps him to finally let go of his obsession with Shannon and move on…

On to what? Well, on to being the sacrifice that the Island demanded, of course, ha ha!

Intriguing premise, but a bad movie. Watch the original.

But anyway, I was reminded of Boone and Locke there in the jungle, Boone very much the student and Locke not so much in the hunter role that he is suited for, but in the role that he seems to crave the most, the mentor/teacher. And as he went to work, cooking up Boone’s catharsis drugs, listening to Boone’s frustrations about the hatch (at this point, they were desperately trying to figure a way into it, which they were keeping a secret from everyone) Locke told Boone a story…

“Ludovico Buonarrati, Michelangelo’s father. He was a wealthy man. He had no understanding of the divinity in his son, so he beat him. No child of his was going to use his hands for a living. So, Michelangelo learned not to use his hands. Years later a visiting prince came into Michelangelo’s studio and found the master staring at a single 18 foot block of marble. Then he knew that the rumors were true — that Michelangelo had come in everyday for the last four months, stared at the marble, and gone home for his supper. So the prince asked the obvious — what are you doing? And Michelangelo turned around and looked at him, and whispered, sto lavorando, I’m working. Three years later that block of marble was the statue of David.”

The point? None, really. Just a nice little Lost flashback, and one of my favorite moments with Locke. Especially since, it seems like the character is usually so lost (pun intended) as he tries to keep his head above water, bobbing up and down on the waves of destiny, and I just like it when he gets to play the teacher to someone else. As for you and me… we should probably get back to work, whatever that is.

Ancora Imparo.”

-Michelangelo (which translates as “Yet I am learning.”)

Every month is February in my calendar.

Editor’s note: Conrad is a good friend of mine that I’ve been trying to sweet talk/badger into doing something for Counterforce for quite a while now. And he’s been dangling the prospect of doing a post on Sonic Youth in front of me for just as long, but then out of nowhere, he sent me this. I’m not complaining and it’s a pleasure to have him with us.

-Marco Sparks.

THE GREATEST HITS OF BLACK PEOPLE IN THE LAST QUARTER CENTURY!

i.e. as long as I’ve been alive.

(This is by no means meant to be an all encompassing list.)

(Nor an all too serious list, or one that had a lot of thought go into it.)

(So no Ben Carson or Al Sharpton, or Maya Angelou, or anyone like that, though they’re all very important people. Just remember: Black people can do anything you can do, maybe better, maybe not better, but with rhythm.)

All right, all right, give yourself a little break from reading about time travel robots and Lost all the time and let’s just fucking do this:

Michael Jackson. The alpha and the omega. Our savior and… sigh… our greatest let down. It’s easy to think of him as a freak now, because he’s kind of turned himself into one, but you know that he was just fucking awesome back in the day. Like when he performed at the Super Bowl, and he started popping up all over the place, Prestige-style, man, I thought that was the coolest thing in the world. It didn’t dawn on me til later that he had doubles (and I say that Saddam Hussein got the doubles idea from the King of Pop).

The Cosby Show. Don’t front on this: The show was awesome, and you know you wanted this to be your family. Everyone did. In fact, just thinking about it has me craving a Jello pudding pop and wanting to go watch Angel Heart again. Plus, a woman once offered me sex because she said I reminded her of Theo.

Eddie Murphy. For fucking serious. Back in the 80s, every black man either looked like this cat, or wanted to. Or they looked like Bobby Brown. That shit was tight.

Professor X & Magneto. I’m a big fan of celebrating our differences and our individual unique whateverness, but I also feel that we need a certain level of colorblindness in the way we deal with the world and people, so that’s why I dig how these X-Men characters can summarize the MLK/Malcolm X debate for just about anyone, especially using a superbrain and raw magnetism.

Philip Bailey and Phil Collins “Easy Lover”

This is great for black people, but it’s just as big a hit for white people as well. Everybody needs all the elements, you know what I’m saying? Everybody needs Earth, Wind & Fire.

I remember this song from my youth but rediscovered it in the last few years thanks to Marco Sparks forcing excessive amounts of Peter Gabriel and Phil Collins down my fucking throat the last few years.  And he has a point, I slowly discovered. Pre-Disney Phil Collins was an angry and passionate man, sometimes baring his male pattern baldness and soul for us good people. I think he’s well regarded in quite a few hip hop circles these days. And he’s one of the coolest cats to duet with a black man since Paul McCartney, probably. But more so.

Robert Townsend. This man is a talented actor, writer, comedian, and director, and his film, Hollywood Shuffle, not only exposes the hardships of black actors and the cliches they’d have to deal with it, but it’s fucking hilarious. Plus, he wrote for Eddie Murphy and is responsible (along with Keenan Ivory Wayans, who co-wrote Hollywood Shuffle) for getting jobs for a lot of the prominent black actors working today.

Incognegro by Mat Johnson. This is just an amazing graphic novel about a black reporter who can pass for a white man who goes undercover to investigate and write about lynchings in the South in the 1930s. Everything about it is perfect, but especially how it deals with the fact that so much of what we consider racial problems is problems with class and identity.

Oran “Juice” Jones “I Saw You And Him Walking In The Rain

I gave you things you couldn’t even pronounce! Here’s some trashy white kids doing an almost shot for shot remake of the video:

It’s safe to say that The Juice ended up being a one hit wonder because, like OJ, he just scared the fuck out of people.

Samuel L. Jackson. Does this even need to be explained? This man is straight versatility. He’s a great actor, but he’ll do just about anything for a paycheck, it seems. Which means he’ll be in a lot of shit movies, but then at the same time, he’ll call up people like George Lucas and do some Force mojo on him and say, “You will put me in your new Star Wars trilogy,” and it happens. Or, “You will make me the new Nick Fury,” and it fucking happens.

Soul Glo! If you know, then you know. You know?

The little sister on Family Matters. Not a greatest hit at all, but just me using this forum to ask where the hell did this girl go? She went upstairs and apparently got swallowed up in a TGIF vortex of some sort Cthulhu-like cathode ray obscurity. And you know where that vortex spits you out? Porn, that’s where.

Prince. Let’s not even pretend I have to explain myself here.

But I will say that I used to have the purple vinyl edition of Purple Rain when I was a kid, and when my brother broke that, I almost threw his ass out of the family. And out of a window.

Aaron McGruder, creator of the Boondocks cartoon strip and cartoon, a constant source of not just excellent entertainment, but also some serious real talk.

Tupac Shakur. The other day, in conversation, Marco says to me, “Tupac is totally one of the most underrated rappers of all time.” I shook my head in exasperation (something I do frequently when dealing with him and said, “First of all, that’s like saying, ‘Gee wilikers, water sure is wet,’ and secondly…”

Right?

I mean… Right!?

Race relations. Can’t we all just get along? I think the answer is yes, with some cooperation, some communication, and some understanding and accepting. Laser guns can only help this equation.

Wu-Tang Clan. This is who I’d rather talk about than Tupac. In addition to being nothing to fuck with, I’d use two words to describe this group: Universal. Ill. That’s all that’s necessary.

The Black Kids “I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You”

So real. So true. This isn’t Save The Last Dance. I don’t know you. I don’t know your boyfriend. I’ll teach him how to lose his girlfriend but I’m not going to teach him how to move it right. And why are you assuming that I know how to move it right? I mean, I do, but…

In reality, the band’s got a great name, but I find them excessively cheesy.

Yes We Can!

Fuck yeah, we can. You, me, everyone.

All right, I said way too much here. I may do another installment of this, perhaps a more serious one, perhaps even more ridiculous than this one, but if you have any questions…

And don’t go getting a big head.

Conrad Noir loves you all. He lives in the South and can’t wait to get out of there, and does the tumblr thing right here, but only sometimes.

When in Rome…

“Vivo!”

-Caligula (his last words, screamed out as he was being murdered by his own soldiers, which translates as “I live!”).

About a week ago I was bored at work (which really isn’t news or anything new) and my boss and I got to talking about old TV shows. Eventually it came to her saying to me with quite a bit of disdain, “You’ve never seen I, Claudius before? Really?”

I just shook my head and shrugged. “The Roman?” I asked, seeking clarification, but pondering for a moment if it was a show about Hamlet’s stepdad (though in addition to playing the Master in Doctor Who, Derek Jacobi, who plays Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus or Claudius I in the miniseries, did go on to play Claudius in Kenneth Branagh’s 1996 version of Hamlet)(Brian Blessed, who is wonderful as Augustus in the miniseries was also wonderful as the ghost of Hamlet’s papa).

“Yes, the Roman,” she told me and thrust a VHS copy of the first two episodes into my hand (thankfully, we have a VCR at work)(old school). “You’re in luck,” she said. “This is the unexpurgated copy. The stuff they couldn’t show on PBS.”

“PBS?” I asked, already doing a bit of online researching as we talked, finding out that this BBC miniseries was based on the novels by Robert Graves. “Like Masterpiece Theater?”

“That’s right,” she said.

Me: “What could possibly be in a BBC miniseries that couldn’t be shown on PBS?”

Her: “Tits. Lots of them. You’ll love it.”

Well, it’s a week later and I’m several episodes into the twelve part  miniseries and enjoying it quite a bit. First, you should probably know that my boss was quite right about the casual abundance of breasts on display: Everything frome a topless quartet of beautiful African women dancing for the pleasure of the Roman court in the second scene of the first episode all the way to a character casually pulling out the breast of a female guest of an orgy in third episode seeming specifically for the camera to take notice of. Ah, good times.

But, especially, the drama on display with these crazy scheming Romans is just amazing. The cast is top notch, with the aforementioned Derek Jacobi as the eponymous Claudius and Brian Blessed as Augustus, but with the added talents of William Hurt as Caligula and Siân Phillips as the ruthless and calculating Livia, wife of Augustus, and called Augusta by Claudius. And George Baker, Patrick Stewart, Simon MacCorkindale, Ian Ogilvy, and John Rhys-Davies are all in there too, all of them joyfully chewing up the scenery in the way that only fine British actors can.

Plus, for me, there’s just the fact that one of my favorite movies is The Lion In Winter, that perfect center point where trash talk, infidelity, scheming, and what would be today called sociopaths who are horny to keep their power meet up quite nicely with brilliant acting. Peter O’Toole and Katharine Hepburn give performances so good in their roles of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine, so infused with majesty and venomous power, that you can almost suspect that they’re about to just orgasm  in the middle of scene after scene. Either them, or myself, on the edge of my seat as I watch them, riveted. I don’t know what others call that, but I call it art.

But as for I, Claudius, in it’s own fine, wonderful way, this excellent show is just pure trash. And I love me some trash TV.

Henry the VIII aside, do you get the impression that Jonathan Rhys Meyers is really just playing himself in The Tudors?

And it has to make you wonder when you watch shows like it or Rome (and I’d like to see a similar fate to Mussolini’s befall whoever chose the bottom line over renewing Rome) or whatever the hell is going on with The Tudors, if all of the past rulers of the Earth were insane, murderous, sexually insatiable monsters by divine right. But, I guess years of inbreeding and never being told “No” might due that to you.  But, while I love the tales of the greeks and the way the mortals wrestle with their metaphorical gods, I think I prefer the gluttonous Romans, because their lives do make for some good, dirty storytelling, don’t they?

It’s just like they say, all roads lead back to Rome, la città dei sette colli.

My favorite Roman emperor, as I said, is probably still that bizarre little imp Caligula, but possibly also Constantine (the Great), but I am also fascinated by Nero, but mostly because he was, in all likelihood, The Beast (666!). If I had to guess, I’d wager that Julius Caesar would be Benjamin Light’s choice, and my friend who I just discussed this with tells me that he’s a Marcus Aurelius fan, seriously, but right now I want to ask you: Who’s your favorite Roman emperor?

The Desperate Man.

For every Madame X out there, there is the desperate man:

For a long time now, I’ve wanted to talk about one of my favorite painters, Gustave Courbet, and I probably will, this week or in the next, but right now, I just want to talk about his 1844-45 self portrait, seen above, called The Desperate Man.

French President Nicolas Sarkozy and German Chancellor Angela Merkel taking in an exhibit of Courbet’s paintings in Paris.

There’s so much on display in the painting by Courbet, art’s original enfant terrible, and the creator and chief innovator of realism (and the official killer of romanticism in my book). To call the look on his face desperate, is an understatement. The way he holds himself, the bulged eyes, there’s a need on display beyond desperate. It’s a lost look. Terrified, almost. Fearful of losing something precious, I would say, but whether it’s something he sees before him or something diminishing inside him, who knows.

That’s what I’ve always thought of this painting, ever since I first discovered it a few years ago. And in a sad way, perhaps an almost romanticized way of looking at myself, it’s something that I’ve identified with. Something that I felt I understood on some level.

I’ll say much more about Courbet soon, I imagine, but for now I think I was half right in my estimate of the painting. But perhaps only because I later realized that the painting acts almost like a Wittgenstein-ian mirror. There’s very little data on display in the work, and the rest of what you see is something reflected. Courbet wanted to paint life as it actually was, and in a way, he did just that here in a work that you bring your own meaning to, your own personalized feeling of what constitutes the desperate man.

from here.

The Auteur Theory, part six: The only way to get rid of my fears.

“The only way to get rid of my fears is to make films about them.”

-Alfred Hitchcock.

And here we continue with part six of our films that we love, and perhaps even adore, that we feel should make the jump over to the Criterion Collection, if, for no other reason, just to make ourselves a little happier. But today I think we’ll venture out into international waters of fear and unease, but first…

Marco Sparks: Based on reading this, I’m tempted to make The Fountain, directed by Darren Aronofsky, my next choice, but… I won’t. I may be the only person who actually liked this movie, even though I did feel it was hurt by Aronofsky having to downgrade his vision for it do to crisis after crisis (though not quite to a Lost In La Mancha level, but still). Even still, I feel that it falls into the category of several films of more recent release, like Lost In Translation, that could very well find themselves heading into Criterion status after a little bit of aging.

Oh… well. August, what’s your pick for today?

August Bravo: Munich, 2005, directed by Steven Spielberg and based on the Munich massacre.

Seeing the trailer alone got me pretty pumped up to see this. I remember actually going to the theater and watching it, where I was quite surprised to find Benjamin Light sitting. Well, I guess it wasn’t that big of a coincidence since that was one of the only showings in town.

Eric Bana plays Avner, an old bodyguard of the prime minister of Israel, sent out on a mission to find and assassinate the men responible for the murders of the Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich olympics. Seeking not just retribution, Bana and his team are sent out to get an eye for an eye. Eleven names, eleven assassinations, all tied to Black September, or so they think. This is an unusual movie, but a very good one.

It seems the only good movies these days are either based on books or real life events. It’s such a rich topic to tackle, especially for someone like Steven Spielberg. Oh, did I mention that he directed it? Yes, Steven Spielberg is to blame for this awfully terrific movie, which is probably why this was nominated for 5 Oscars, including Best Picture. I was sad to see that Eric Bana didn’t get a nomination for Best Actor, but he had some stiff competition: Heath Ledger for Brokeback Mountain, Joaquin Phoenix (my absolutely favorite new rapper) for Walk The Line, and the eventual winner, Phillip Seymour Hoffman for Capote. I was even sadder to see that this film didn’t win a single Oscar, but this isn’t the first time Spielberg’s been atrociously robbed by this ceremony.

Now, after having given you a brief overview of the movie, here’s why I think it should be a Criterion classic: Because why not? Well, for one, it’s a Steven Spielberg movie. When is the last time he got some respect? Err, wait. Because Daniel Craig’s in it? He’s sooo dreamy. Wait. That’s not it either. Okay, because this movie has no rules. With a decently notable cast, other than the ones I’ve named, you’ve got Geoffrey Rush, Mathieu Kassovitz (from Amelie), and Mathieu Amalric, who plays Louis, the provider of names. And I can’t get over how great his role is, or how great he is in the role. Louis despises Avner because his father longs for a son more like him and the sides he does not take makes him so interesting, yet Amalric plays him such a subtle amount of venom.

Marco: I have to interject here just to add that you’re right, Amalric is really good in this role, and his presence is incredibly understated. He’s an actor (who was compared to Roman Polanski so many times in reviews of Quantum Of Solace) that you always think is going to take it over the top, but he never does. He always keeps it perfectly on the line, with those big bug eyes of his betraying so much of what’s inside him. And don’t forget to mention the equally wonderful and low key Michael Lonsdale, who’s wonderful as Louis’ papa in this film.

August: Avner’s inner struggle, wondering if what he’s doing is right, is something to pay close attention to. The cover to the two disc edition of the DVD and the original movie poster explains it well enough. The Israeli crew’s progression throughout the film is something I’ve enjoyed as well. Their circumstances can’t help but force them to grow weary of each other. Among other untimely events, the film takes you back exactly to the beginning. It seems this is something I find fascinating in movies, or, I guess you could say that I just hate resolution in films. Not everything needs to be a happy or unhappy ending. But an ending, just a regular, ordinary ending is what I feel should propel this movie to that ultimate and pivotal infamy of the Criterion collection.

Marco: Good point, that. We’ve never really discussed in depth what our personal criteria or what we see as the criterion for the Criteron collection is. Partly because it’s hard to nail down, but… there’s a certain off beatness of fine filmmaking that I feel is one aspect of it. An overlooked quality, perhaps. A somewhat political film like this definitely makes sense, possibly after a few years of aging like fine wine, just like Costa-Gavras’ Missing. But I don’t feel that the Criterion collection should be home to just plain classics. Casablanca probably shouldn’t carry the Criterion logo on it, but The Third Man certainly should.

Eric Bana as Nero, the villain in the new Star Trek movie. I dig the name.

Now, for my pick today, I’m actually going to throw out a few. And since I have the tendency to ramble on, I’ll just throw them out and walk away, most likely to talk about them another day. They are:

The Tenant, 1976, directed by Roman Polanski (and starring him as well).

Suspiria, 1977, directed by Dario Argento.

Deep Red, 1975, also directed by Dario Argento (I told you that I’d be suggesting a giallo classic or two, didn’t I?).

Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate before.

These are three excellent films of psychological horror and, well, just plain horror as well. And a clear indicator that the 70s were a great time for paranoia. The Tenant works on so many terrifying levels, further proving that Polanski was quite possibly a genius filmmaker at one time, and nobody handles the unnerving unsettling terror that lives beneath your skin like him (it’s sad to say, but the closest I’ve ever seen to true perfect sinister feelings in a film since Polanski was probably Gore Verbinski’s remake of The Ring), especially here as he deals with a little bit of diaspora unease and a lot of the existentialist hell that is living in an urban environment like an apartment complex, surrounded by people that may want to destroy you.

Marco Sparks’ favorite French hottie, Marion Cotillard reenacting the shower scene from Psycho.

As for these Argento movies… they just get inside you and grab a part of you and squeeze. And they’re beautifully lit and shot. And sooner or later, Suspiria will get remade (though I think Deep Red needs it first), possibly with Natalie Portman in the lead. Argento (whose daughter, Asia, was the subject of every cinephile’s dirty fits of lust at some point or another), has been more miss than hit in the last few decades, but for a while there he and De Palma were neck in neck for producing that certain brand of psuedo-Hitcock horror-thriller, though Argento was much more interested in the more supernatural and gory parts of life (which, thankfully, lead to his funding Romero’s Dawn Of The Dead).

August and I will continue for a little more talk about the films we love and respect and think that you should as well, but for now, we’re wondering what scares you so bad in a film that you can’t bear to watch it?

And what scares you so badly that you can’t bear to look away?

Disappear here.

You know what they say, man: Whatever happened, happened.

Some quick thoughts on last night’s Lost:

And Commander Light kind of confirmed for me what I was thinking here, that this was just a little bit of a bland episode, yeah (it was a Kate episode, after all)(but I am glad to see the return of the single character-centric flashback/forward format), but man… even the dullest episode of this show (and no episode is exactly what I would call “dull,” but even if it was) just needs a little appearance by Richard Alpert to turn it all around.

Not only is this guy slick and cool at an almost Sayid-esque level, but he just exudes mystery. And answers. That you’re not gonna get from him.

A guy with a torch who says “Fuck you and your sonic fence,” isn’t going to be the most forthcoming expositional figure. Who says the stong, silent types are a thing of the past? But, then again, this is 1977 after all.

Okay, back to those quick thoughts:

Kate. Seemed like she kinda had her life together, but then reset to being the fuck and run gal she’s gotten too comfortable being. She says she’s coming back to find Claire (to which the audience says, “Who? Ohhhhh, right. Her.”), which I don’t think any of us really believe, but then again, I’m glad she didn’t say it was about Sawyer alone. I’m glad that he’s just a part of it.

Sawyer. Possibly the most positive and upwardly mobile character development on the show?  You know, maybe. I was joking with someone the other day that I can’t wait til we get those Lost action figures where you press the button on their back and they spout out one of several different catch phrases. All of Sawyer’s will just be, “Son of a bitch!”

Juliet. I still love her. And the thing about Juliet, especially evident in this episode, is what I’ve been saying about her all along: The creators have clearly given this character all the DNA of a tough, strong person who is both resilient and fragile at times, a go getter, and someone who can make things happen. The catch is with her always being the fourth wobbly leg on the love triangle table, she can only show these sexy lioness qualities when somebody is off in the jungle delivering Hitler, Jr. to the Others.

Jack. I kinda feel Jack here. He kind of drops some real talk on Kate, harshly, but it needs to be harsh. He loves her, and because of that, both her and he have turned him into a welcome mat. And now… well, now, he’s basically Locke. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing or why he’s there, but he’s strong in the idea that there is a purpose out there for him and he’ll find it. And until then, he’s going to make some sandwiches and maybe take a quick shower if you don’t mind.

Ultimate Wolverine vs. Hulk. Wait… what? The third issue of this miniseries written by Lost‘s Damon Lindelof came out this past week, following hot on the heels of the riveting issue #2, which came out like… three years ago? Just reading this thing I can tell you right now with some certainty that Lindelof is the guy who rights a majority Ben’s dialogue. This whole issue (and series so far) has his beats and his cadence can be imagined a little too easily as the “conversations” progress. Also, it starts off with a man being torn in half, which is always nice.

Hurley and Miles. Coupla post modern Cassandras, am I right? Two things here. First: The characters have been through so many crazy shit moments that I think they kind of accept some of it a little too easily. And thusly, when they try to reason out the logic of, you know, shit like time travel, they come off as idiots. And by idiot, I’m really specifically referring to Hurley here, though I like his reference to Back To The Future (an important collection of pro tips when one is doing the temporal quantum nasty). Thankfully we had Miles sitting in for Faraday, who I have to say, is sorely missed.

Secondly, Miles proves here what I’ve been saying about him for a while: He’s totally Charlie 2.0, but with a much cooler and heretofore far too underused ability.

Little Ben/Hitler, Jr. You know, I liked this kid better when he was laying face down in the mud, and before his gaping bullet wound changed ventricles, but hey, whatever. Now he’s… about to be changed? The not remembering anything that happened, well, that just makes sense, and the “always be one of us,” yeah, that too, but what fascinates me is Richard’s saying: “He’ll lose his innocence.” Oh? Really?

My theory: Remember when those wacky French kids got sucked down that Cerebrus vent a few episodes back right outside that simply fascinating fucking temple that we’ve seen far too little of? And later Rousseau accuses her lover at gunpoint of having been changed by the Monster (which he claims is not a monster, but the temple’s security system)? I think that whatever is about to happen to Ben is along those lines. I think that’s why Ben is able to slip off into the hieroglyphic room during Keamy’s siege last year and summon the Monster.

Also, Ellie and Widmore (whom Richard Alpert does not answer to, he tells us). I’m fascinated to see what Widmore is up to at this point (I kind of assume that he’s the leader of the Others somewhere around this point in time) but am I the only person who has no problem seeing (1950s) Ellie again?

Oh, and that ending… Man, what a wonderful reminder of why we all love Locke, whom I feel shines possibly his brightest in his moments playing off of Ben. “Welcome back to the land of the living… you bug-eyed son of a bitch.”

Next week: The mother fucking Temple! And quite possibly the answer to whether or not Ben’s violently murdered Desmond’s family! See you in another week, brotha!

Paleofuturism.

There’s nothing cuter than retro-futurism. It’s just adorable.

And yet, it leaves me wondering about the simple things in life. Happiness. Love. Acceptance. Security. And also, where is my fucking jetpack?

I mean, seriously.

Granted, this “Not My Future!”/”Where’s my jetpack?” ennui has been around for a while, and sloganized (the sign of all things nearing what should be a healthy death in the pop culture eye), but it’s especially trying when James Bond had a jetpack of sorts back in 1965 and then had laser guns and bad Star Wars rip off fun back in 1979 (along with Dr. Holly Goodhead and future chucks).

A laser watch? 007 gets a laser watch. Come on, throw me a frickin’ bone here, man.

The other night I was reading an interesting big on a variant of the Fermi paradox, but dealing with time travel, and I really wished I had saved the link. The Fermi paradox, by the way, is contradiction of… Well, if there are aliens out there, higher civilizations, or at least something more advanced than class 1 or 2 civilization and capable of traveling between worlds, then why haven’t we been contacted them (and no, abducting wack jobs and cattle and anal probing the hell out of them is not “contact,” no matter how right it’s done). Essentially the same idea applies to time travel: If people could come back from the future, then why haven’t they?

Especially if you think about how a person from a few decades in the future could travel back with the common cold from their time period to now, when we don’t have those several decades worth of immunities, and do some serious damage.

Oh well. I guess that just leaves us angry time travelers, all stuck going forward only and at the same speed.

All right, you primates, listen up…

I’m from the future, man. And I’m high!

Come with me if you want to talk about groping and economic reform in hard times.

Oh well, I guess that for now… that’s all we have. The here and now:

And people who paint giant penises on top of their house.

The media’s just a bit fucked of late.

Speaking of which, after effectively accepting an honorary title of douchbaggery, Jim Cramer is now calling Jon Stewart and the Daily Show’s reporting on CNBC “naïve and misleading.”

“The Decider” is writing a book about decisions. Fantastic. At least he’s not getting any of that big time Clinton “Fuck You money.”

Bill O’Reilly is boycotting Sean Penn films. I apologize for even mentioning that. That’s not even news.

But in related news: Meghan McCain. What the hell?

Oh, and today is the day that SKYNET takes over! Er, I mean, Conficker. Whatever.

Oh, and yeah, today is April Fool’s Day:

This actually makes a certain kind of sense.

Talking porn and Hollywood with Alan Moore.

The secret fetish art of Joe Shuster, Superman’s co-creator.

Say hello to the days of the future past. Now say goodbye.

Now is the era of the end of excess. If you’ll excuse me, I’m just gonna go slip into my little time machine and go back in time (and maybe buy some Apple stock or something). Catch you in another time, another place.