The Departed

A recent article in the New York Times details Hollywood's concern or, rather, their panic over the $500 million decline in box office sales in 2011 versus the year previous. Piracy is listed as a possible culprit, so is "the erosion of star power," gaming, the quality of the product being produced, the higher ticket prices, etc.
Interestingly enough, none of the articles that I have read mention the reason that I have (mostly) stopped going to the movies. Maybe I'm the only one with this reason, but, somehow, I don't think so. Sure, all of the above-mentioned reasons are probably the major factors, but I don't think that Hollywood or the cineplexes should necessarily disregard my experience.
So, Hollywood, let me tell you a story:

I used to love going to the movies. I didn't care that much when tickets jumped from $6 to
$7 to $9. Movies were my guilty pleasure. I'd get a tub of popcorn and a big soda, grab a seat in the middle of the last row (my favorite place to sit) and just get lost for 90 minutes to two hours. I always got there early to watch all of the previews. I was only mildly annoyed when car commercials started getting mixed in with my previews. Oh well. I guess the profit  margin on my $4 Coke and $5 bag of popcorn weren't quite keeping the theaters afloat. Fine, show me the truck I can't live without, and then let's just move on, shall we?
Are movies as good as they used to be? Some are. Some aren't. Some are better. Yes, Hollywood, you love your remakes, but you always have. (There are three versions of A Star is Born, all made prior to 1980, so let's not stamp our feet too loudly about modern Hollywood's apparently "sudden" lack of creativity.) Every year there are some really great movies made, and even more moderate to mediocre movies that are still quite a bit of fun.
And, for me, sitting in a dark theatre, being transported to another world, being told a moving story: that was the best kind of fun.
Until . . .
Phones started ringing in movie theaters. Then people started answering those phones. Then people started texting, and that little blue light (or several of them) immediately sucked me back away from the fantasy world and into a room occupied by an invader who apparently wasn't there to be transported with the rest of us. This person wants to take the cinematic experience and turn it into background noise for his or her very important l33t-speak discussion on who called whom a "dirty skank" behind their back. Since they paid their $9, I suppose that they think that they are entitled to spend their movie experience in whatever way they choose, but the problem is that they're ruining the experiences of the others who are there for only the movie. People like me.

Over the course of a year or so, I would complain to theater managers who would apologize and give me free passes, but apparently take no further steps to remedy the problem, because I would use the free passes and still not be able to enjoy the movie for all of the text-happy usurpers. Sure, I saw the signs and the the messages before and after the previews asking patrons to please turn off their cell phones, but, then, so did the offenders. And they just didn't care. I even tried confronting a few of these individuals myself, using a number of tactics:

Politeness: "I'm sorry, but the light from your cell phone is really distracting, would you mind not using it during the movie?"

Reason: "Um, hi. We all paid $9 to see this movie, too, and I'm sure you'd rather just turn off your phone than have to reimburse all of us."

Incredulity: "If you have a pressing conversation that cannot wait two hours, why on earth are you in a movie theater?"

Occasionally, these pleas were met with compliance. Just as often they were met with belligerence and  physical threats. Usually, however, they were met with indifference. Invariably, it was almost impossible to get back into the world of the movie, though, and the experience was spoiled. I eventually stopped confronting, stopped complaining, and just stopped going to the movies. I will still go see a film in the theater on occasion, but it is usually an art-house film that shows in a theater where the ushers take their jobs seriously and the other patrons are even more aggressive than I about confronting these backlit invaders.
Rarely in these theaters do they show "blockbusters." I end up waiting until those films become available on DVD, and I watch them at home. I'm a couple of months behind on the new movies, sure, and the home theatre experience isn't as good as the old days of watching a movie in a darkened theater that stayed dark, but I fear those days are gone. I know that there are a few privately-owned movie theaters that have taken more proactive, cinephile-friendly approaches to eliminating this text invasion, but none of them have been in any of my neighborhoods.
So, a few inconsiderate people have taken me away from the movie experience I loved, and yes, Hollywood and the multiplexes: they have taken me (and the hundreds of dollars I personally spent every year on going to the movies) away from you.

I'll confess that I don't really care for 3-D. That third dimension has a nasty habit of reminding me that I'm watching a movie, and that defeats the whole purpose. Still, if you guys were to figure out the right way to do it (this Cracked article could very well have been written by someone who overheard one of my 3-D tirades at a party), I'd shell out a few more bucks and give it a try. I don't mind the remakes as long as you find a fresh take on the story. (I've got to say, I really liked the new Arthur.)
Again, though, neither of those were the reason I stopped going to the movies.
I still enjoy the Hollywood product, but I end up having to wait for it, rent it, and watch it at home (which sucks a little for me), and I end up paying about 90% less for it (which sucks a lot for you).
The sad part is that there probably isn't a lot that you can do to get me back. If the "Martin Scorsese interrupting someone's phone call" ads aren't getting through to these knuckleheads, I don't know what will.
I just thought you deserved to know why I called it quits. It's not you, it's - well, it's not me, either, really.  It's . . . them.

Have a Camel!

Hi, it's me, your friendly neighborhood naughty elf. I'm just checking in on your shopping list. How's it going? Did you manage to get the bow around the Lexus? The trick is to set the emergency brake. How about Rockin' Elmo: did you get all of them that you needed? How much pepper spray did you end up having to use? Not bad. See, I told you: short bursts makes it last longer. Okay, so how many names are left uncrossed off your list? Wow. That many? You've only got a few days left!
Okay, it's a good thing I dropped in - by the way, you need to sweep your chimney.
I have a solution for you: Heifer. No, that sweater doesn't make you look fat, I'm talking about Heifer International, you ninny. (That sweater does make you look kind of stupid, though. Okay, maybe it's not the sweater.)
Heifer International! Come on, you've heard of them, right? Oh, fine, Alton, please educate these thunderdomes:

Clear enough? Good. Here's what you do: go to www.heifer.org and click on the gift catalog button. It's really big, you'll do fine. This will "magically" take you to a page filled with pictures of farm animals. It's kind of like the site you were looking at the other night, but completely different.
You click on the animal of your choice and then whip out your - oh, grow up! - credit card. Then you can print out a card with the name of the person you're giving the gift for. On behalf of. In the name of. Oh, whatever. You follow, right?
You can get creative if you want, too. If you donated a goat on behalf of your boss, you could go down to the nearest curio shop, buy a little porcelain goat, and, when he goes down to his reserved parking spot at the end of the day, you bounce it off his windshield, and say, "I got you a goat, you bald motherf-" . . . Okay, maybe that's not such a good idea. Anyway, you'll think of something. Sweater choices notwithstanding you seem like a smart - well, ask your kids for an idea.
Heifer International works great for those people on your list who you have no idea what to get. Seriously, if you give someone a card that says, "Hey, I gave a flock of chicks in your name to a poor, starving family so that they could get a new lease on life," and they go "Awww, maaaaaan.": Take that hemorrhoid of a human being off of next year's list. Seriously seriously.
It's a no-brainer. You could even go in with a group of people who are just as befuddled as you and give a water buffalo, or a cow, or a camel - which, actually, reminds me of a joke . . .
Hey, where are you going?

Defrosting

I woke up to "Let It Snow" this morning on the radio. Soured on the Christmas Holiday as I am, I started to reach for the radio to turn it off, but then something occurred to me.
"Let It Snow"isn't a Christmas song.
No Santa.
No elves.
No Baby Jesus, angels, or star.
It isn't about shopping or exchanging gifts.
It's a love song. The singer wants it to keep snowing so that he or she can stay a bit longer snuggling with their significant other.
I decided to investigate.
The first thing that I found is that something very interesting happens when you type "let it snow" into the Google homepage. Go ahead, try  it. I'll wait.
Cool, huh? Those clever, clever nerds.
The next thing I found is that my observations were correct. A re-read of the lyrics confirms no holiday references whatsoever. Check it:

Oh, the weather outside is frightful

But the fire is so delightful

And, since we've no place to go:

Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

It doesn't show signs of stopping,

And I've brought some corn for popping.

The lights are turned way down low.

Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

When we finally kiss goodnight,

How I'll hate going out in the storm.

But if you'll really hold me tight,

All the way home I'll be warm.

The fire is slowly dying,

And, my dear, we're still good-bying.

But as long as you love me so,

Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

The song was written by Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne in 1945 - right at the outset of the U.S. Baby Boom. Coincidence? I think not.

Two more songs that have become "Christmas songs" but really don't actually have anything to do with Christmas per se are "Frosty the Snowman" and "Winter Wonderland." (The "sleigh bells" referenced in the latter song aren't on Claus's sleigh.)
Why is this important? Well, it isn't, really. (Look up "superfluity" in the dictionary.)  However, I found it at least mildly significant for myself as I have become increasingly disenchanted with this holiday season (which has increased in duration since I was a kid). Seeing TV commercials with luxury cars wrapped in bows, Black Friday shoppers camping out in tents in parking lots, and Jolly Ol' St. Nick's face on advertisements for everything from cell phones to soda pop has left me cringing every time I hear "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."
You can call me a "Scrooge" if you want, but pepper-spraying someone to be first to get to a sale was the sort of thing Ebenezer would have done before his ghostly encounter. I'm just saying. (Do I have to pay Aaron Sorkin every time I use that phrase or just if I say it rapidly?)
I get called a Grinch sometimes, too. Apparently no one remembers that the moral of that story is that presents weren't important. Audible sigh.
Anyway, I've got at least three songs that I will be hearing the rest of the year over and over that I can sing along to without feeling the least bit of irony. I'll take what I can get.

Boo! Yourself

Here on All Hallow's Eve/Samhain Eve/Halloween, it seems appropriate to talk about my favorite scary, gory, slasher films. As a film buff, I'm bound to have some real gems, right? Right?
Two problems: I've never really been a big fan of gore or of being scared.
Now, I like roller coasters and giant water slides and thrills of that kind. I love that kind of adrenaline rush. There's just something about having something jump out at me from the dark that I just don't like. It's almost like a negative adrenaline rush. My knee-jerk reaction is fight or flight, and - unfortunately for those who have tried to spook me - it's usually fight.
Like this guy:

This is why I don't go to haunted houses. It's just safer for everyone.

While a thrilling ride on a roller coaster leaves me with a bit of a "high," the feeling I have after a "Boo!" type of scare leaves me with a nagging, uncomfortable feeling in my stomach for hours afterwards. I just don't enjoy it. However, I recognize that other people do, and I've even utilized this fact in some of my own artistic ventures. About a dozen years ago, I directed a live theatrical version of Dracula that literally had people jumping out of their seats. (Fortunately, they climbed back into them to enjoy the rest of the show as well.)
As for gore, I don't necessarily have a weak stomach, I just don't think it's as "cool" as some people do. It's kind of like a joke in which I don't get the punch line. It doesn't bother me, really, but I don't really enjoy a movie in which gore is the central focus.
That's not to say that I don't like many films that fall into the "horror" genre. I love the ethereal feel of the old Universal Horror films: Bela Lugosi's Count Dracula, Boris Karloff's man-made monster, Lon Chaney Jr.'s cursed Wolf Man. I'll probably watch a couple of those tonight, in fact. I might even watch the Spanish-language version of Dracula, shot at night on the Universal sets after the American actors and crew had gone home for the night.

Then, of course, there are the Hammer horror films that revived (no pun intended) the old Universal monsters (many of them with Christopher Lee's face). These films pushed the envelope just a bit further in terms of on-screen brutality and sensuality, though some of the later efforts were perhaps a bit too heavy-handed in their execution (again, no pun intended.) I think that the initial films were among the best.

I can appreciate the skill of directors like Wes Craven in their ability to make audiences scream in surprise or cringe in horror, but I'm just not his audience. I thought the first Scream movie was very well-done, but I just haven't bothered with any of the sequels. It's not my thing.
I find that I tend to enjoy horror films when mixed with other genres. I found Shaun of the Dead and Zombieland more palatable for their humor. Movies like Constantine and Dylan Dog: Dead of Night (both based on comic books, by the way) mix horror and hard-boiled detective stories.

Priest, the Russian film Night Watch, and the recent Attack the Block are really more like action films with a horror twist.

So, unfortunately, I'm just going to have to let you down this time around since I really can't think of any good horror films to recommend for your Halloween viewing. Sorry.
(See what I did there?)

Why I'm Not Abandoning Netflix

I read an article this morning in the Denver Post about how the shares of Netflix - the DVD-by-mail and online streaming movie subscription service - have dropped over 35% recently. This is as a result of a loss of around 800,000 subscribers and some questionable business decisions over the last year. People are upset over the recent price hike - in some cases, as much as 60% - and I know many people who are frustrated by the number of movies and television programs that "expire" from streaming availability. The whole "Qwikster"idea - in which the DVD by mail service was to become a separate entity - made me angry, as did the elimination of the "saved" portion of the streaming queue, and I let them know about it by e-mail and by phone many times.
However, I am not among the 800,000 who gave up on the service recently, nor will I likely be among those who are still projected to leave the service in the coming months.

Here's why:

1. The price increase was inevitable.

Corey Feldman movie marathon: complete.

I have always felt that I was getting a great deal from Netflix - even before they started the streaming service. And by "great deal," I meant that I was robbing them blind. I can easily watch twenty movies in a month. Even for those months where I was busy, and I ended up holding on to my movies for several weeks (as many people do), I would more than make up for it over the next few months. Streaming made it even easier to watch more movies. A movie from a Blockbuster store could cost between 99 cents and 3 bucks, and, if you didn't return it right away, quite a bit more. Redbox movies are a buck, but are also subject to the automatic late fees. And let's face it, there's nowhere near the selection through either of those services. Netflix pays the big movie studios (directly or indirectly) for the right to rent DVDs and even more to make them available for streaming. As the number of subscribers increased and the library expanded, the cost of keeping that many movies under a rental license increased. The smarter move might have been to make the increases more gradual, but - in the end - it's still a pretty good deal.
For example, I have the 3-at-a-time subscription with unlimited streaming. That costs about 24 dollars per month. 24 dollars would get me somewhere between 8 and 24 rentals from a Blockbuster store, but I have to go get the movies and take them back right away. The Redbox and Blockbuster rental kiosks are a little more convenient, but there's still the late fees and the running back and forth. I can easily watch 24 programs in a month from Netflix, and I don't have to go any further than my mailbox. Now, I'm a serious movie buff who happens to have a lot of spare time these days, so I probably watch quite a bit more than most, but there are other Netflix packages that are geared for more casual watchers and priced accordingly.

2. Netflix isn't who's taking your movies off of streaming.

"Another Hilary Swank DVD for Brady Darnell?
Geez. Obsess much?"

Running a DVD by mail service is expensive. You have to have warehouses to store the DVDs. You have to hire employees to receive, sort, and mail the DVDs. You have to pay the postage. Oh yeah, you also have to buy the DVDs (in addition to the rental licensing contract.) If DVDs get lost or damaged in the mail - and it happens quite a bit - you have to absorb that cost. Believe me, if Netflix could have every title in their catalog available for streaming, they would. It would cut their overhead significantly, even offset by the increased bandwidth and licensing costs.

Just be patient.
They'll get theirs.

It's the licensing companies that say "yea" or "nay" on streaming and put end dates on the amount of time that their products can be available to stream. They even set limits upon how many times they can be viewed, which often fast-forwards their removal from the streaming catalog. These licensing companies are afraid that fewer people will buy their DVDs if the programs are too easily available online. (And they're probably right.) Netflix would rather that Dexter hadn't gone off of streaming, too. It wasn't their call. And I'll bet you they're working on negotiations to get it back, but it's probably going to end up costing them more money to do so.

3. Netflix appears to be learning from their mistakes.The fact that Netflix abandoned the idea of Qwikster just a few weeks after announcing the plan publicly may look like bad business planning (and it probably was), but it was also in response to many subscribers - including myself - yelling out a collective "WTF?" Now, to Wall Street, Netflix looks like it doesn't know what it's doing. To me, a company that's willing to swallow its pride in the interest of its customers can't be all bad.
I wouldn't expect a reversal on the price increase, though. See Item #1.

4. The alternatives still kind of suck.

Redbox and Blockbuster kiosks have late fees and fewer selections. Also, I once got a DVD out of a Redbox kiosk that was covered in grape jelly. (At least I hope it was grape jelly.) Blockbuster stores - the few that still exist - also have limited selection of anything but new releases, and there's still those pesky late fees. Hulu free is a great deal. Hulu Plus is also a pretty good deal, but the selection just isn't comparable. I've been trying out Blockbuster By Mail for a little while now. It's just a little more expensive and does not have an unlimited streaming option, but the selection is at least comparable to Netflix. They even have some new releases a couple of weeks before Netflix. The best feature is that with the 3-at-a-time option you get unlimited in-store exchanges. I live near one of the remaining Blockbuster stores in Denver, so that's convenient for me, and it makes up for how painfully slow (in comparison to Netflix) Blockbuster's by-mail program is. However, if I didn't live near a store, it wouldn't really be worth it.

So, why am I coming to Netflix's defense? They certainly aren't compensating me. I'll prove it. I think Netflix CEO Reed Hastings is a bit of a tool. I think Netflix still has a long way to go in terms of customer service and quality control. I just sent back a DVD that was too scratched to watch, and they still have the second season of the BBC sci-fi comedy Hyperdrive uploaded in the wrong order despite multiple complaints from users. Also, I want the "Saved" portion of the streaming queue back.
However, I still think that they're the best game in town . . . in the country . . . online . . . whatever, and I recognize that if they lose too many more subscribers, it's going to be very difficult for them to stay in business, much less continue to expand and improve the service. And don't get me wrong, my loyalty is just as fleeting: if a better alternative comes along, I'm there. That's why I took Blockbuster By Mail for a test drive. However, that superior competitor is only going to appear if Netflix is a viable model to copy (and I think it is), not if they are circling the drain.
I'm just thinking ahead here.
Hey, maybe Netflix should hire me. That's a skill that they have been pretty short on this last year.

By the way, this is streaming on Netflix right now:

No One Like Danielle

When I watch this video of Danielle Ate the Sandwich (Danielle Anderson) performing a cover of Adele's "Someone Like You," I mentally add two items to my life's to-do list:
1. Learn to play the ukulele
2. Work up the nerve to chat up beautiful, talented women who play the ukulele

Enjoy!

Ghetto Life

I don't have any children. Maybe someday I will, and, if I do, I look forward to sharing with them not only the books that I read as a kid, but also the many beautiful books that have been published since. One of my favorites of the newer books, however, presents a bit of a quandary for me:
At what age does one tell a child about the uglier side of the world in which we live?

The Cats in Krasinski Square is a children's book about life in Warsaw, Poland, during the Nazi occupation. The eponymous felines are the abandoned pets of Jewish families who have been moved into the ghettos (or worse). The cats now wander the streets of Warsaw, surviving on mice, with " no one to kiss their velvet heads." A young Jewish girl lives outside the ghetto with her sister Mira, hiding their heritage: "I wear my Polish look. I walk my Polish walk. Polish words float from my lips. and I am almost safe, almost invisible . . ."

The book is  beautifully illustrated by Wendy Watson with prose by Karen Hesse that is both lovely and haunting. The nastier aspects of that period in history are only hinted at in this story. We know that the little girl misses her friend Michal, still living somewhere "behind the Wall of the Ghetto." She refers to her sister as "my brave sister, Mira, all that is left of our family." We know that Mira and a young man named Arik are working with others to get food into the ghetto, but the Gestapo will try to stop them - the Gestapo and their dogs.
This is where the cats come into the story, and you'll just have to read it to find out what happens next.
The Cats in Krasinski Square is, at times, sad, suspenseful, funny, and beautiful. I look forward to sharing it with my hypothetical future children - even if it means that I may have to answer some tough questions about our world when the story is finished.
Look for it in your local library, or, better yet, buy a copy. See if you are as moved by this book as I am.

Launch

When starting a new blog, the first post is often introductory and informational, filled with humble platitudes and hopefulness, explaining what this blog will attempt to be. Well, I don't really know, and I am  all platituded out (thank you, spellcheck, I know that's not a real word.)
So what do you say we just act like this isn't my first post, but rather my 21st  post, and go on like we've already been having this conversation for a while.

Her. Right here. This one.

As you know - from the twenty times I've already told you - I'm a movie buff, and I will sometimes get onto a movie-watching kick where I will watch several movies in a row by one director or featuring one actor. What's fun, though, is when I stumble upon one (or two) trends by accident.
For example, over the last week or so I have inadvertently been on a Jennifer Lawrence trend.

I finally got around to watching X-Men: First Class sometime last week. I was never a big fan of the X-Men as a young comic book reader, but I am at least as familiar with the characters as any casual reader of the stories, and, I like James MacAvoy, so, when the opportunity to watch it for free arose (thank you, McDonald's Monopoly game and Redbox) I gave it a look. I enjoyed it. Great special effects, smart storytelling, and a fun sense of humor make this an enjoyable movie whether you are a die-hard comic book fan or just someone looking for an adventure film. Purists may quibble with some of the story elements, but, come on, gang: have they ever made a comic book movie that met all of our expectations? Ever? Most compelling to me was the performance of the young woman taking on the role of the troubled blue mutant later-to-be-known as Mystique: Jennifer Lawrence.

A few days later, I watched the Jodie-Foster-directed and snicker-inducing-titled dark dramedy The Beaver. (See? You just snickered a little bit, didn't you? The internet has made us all twelve-year-olds.) There is a good deal more to this story than is even suggested by the trailer (and I think the trailer suggests quite a bit). I think that we will someday look back on this movie as a very important piece of film-making - even now, it's definitely thought-provoking.

Great performances all-around from Foster, Gibson, Yelchin, and . . . (wait, who's this?) Jennifer Lawrence.
Now, young Lawrence had come upon my radar last year when I read an article about how she had to learn to skin squirrels and chop wood for her Oscar-nominated role in the Oscar-nominated Winter's Bone. I had put the movie on my to-watch list at that point (it's a long list), but I hadn't gotten around to seeing it yet. Not many people have. Apparently, it's the lowest-grossing best picture nominee since 1983's The Dresser with Albert Finney. Well, if you haven't seen it, you should definitely rectify that (stop snickering, that's not what it means) as I did, because it is a very, very beautiful ugly film, and both it and Miss Lawrence are very worthy of their nominations. (You should also see The Dresser, by the way: One of Finney's best performances.)

Now, here is where the second trend comes in. I've had another "winter" movie on my to-watch list for a while now, but it has not been an easy one to find: Winter People from 1989 starring Kurt Russell and Kelly McGillis. Well, I managed to find a copy and, the day after I watched Winter's Bone (which, at this writing, is streaming on Netflix, by the way), I finally watched Winter People. This made for some very interesting comparisons.

Though Bone takes place in the Ozarks of contemporary Missouri and People is set in the hills of North Carolina in the 1930s, both stories take a look at the strong family system of honor and tradition and the often deadly ramifications of the same. Both films also do an incredible job of capturing the bone-chilling cold and bleakness tempered with the stark beauty of winter in the American South. Both films have strikingly beautiful female protagonists who somehow manage to overcome the ugliness of their situations. Winter People isn't quite the film that Winter's Bone is simply because of some strange editing in the third act (studio-driven would be my guess), but it is nevertheless a fine story.
Now, what is there to be learned from my little story of cinematic happenstance? Not much, probably, but you've got four movie recommendations (five, if you count The Dresser), and I have a new blog.
How about that?