Author: sinaphile

sinaphile
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Don’t give up on the boom box…

Got to work early today. It was nice. I was proud. Last week was a roughie…except for Friday.

For some reason, Friday decided to be its own personal rendition of my favorite song by Elvis Costello, Indoor Fireworks, with all of the heat and passion and sensual amazingness that he describes in that song and none of the sadness. And not in any explicit X-rated manner, it was just an evening that was full of Sky Flowers, in a very Land of the Dead manner (provided you’ve seen that film. If not, just ask…I’ll explain further). In other words, Friday ROCKED.

So the glow was still there, and lemme tell you- it’s been a while since I was a-glow. But I digress.

Flipped on the computer, put the internet radio on, feelin’ great, started my work. Then it came on.

In this proud land we grew up strong
We were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail

It was “Don’t Give Up,” by Peter Gabriel, with guest vocals by Kate Bush. My god, I love this song.

No fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
Ive changed my face, Ive changed my name
But no one wants you when you lose

Used to listen to this song OVER and OVER and OVER on fucking VINYL in college. Which, mind you, is no easy task. Sure, putting a track on repeat is simple on a CD, but you have to really want to hear something a great deal to keep getting up and down and moving that needle back and forth and all that madness. And, boy oh boy, did I. But hey- I was younger, overemotional, and it was Speaking To Me!  I mean, c’mon, things were rough, man! I was in my late teens/early 20’s, also known as your second adolescence only…this time you gotta pay RENT.  And social things? Boys? Fuggetaboutit. So when Kate Bush’s gorgeous voice came in and reminded Gabriel

Dont give up
cos you have friends
Dont give up
Youre not beaten yet
Dont give up
I know you can make it good

It meant the world to me. This morning I realized that it still does, just in an entirely different way. I continued to listen, and reinterpret it, because, after all, it was My Song and it was still Speaking To Me.  Gabriel talks about moving, things changing, trying to be steadfast against it.

Though I saw it all around
Never thought I could be affected
Thought that we’d be the last to go
It is so strange the way things turn

Drove the night toward my home
The place that I was born, on the lakeside
As daylight broke, I saw the earth
The trees had burned down to the ground

He is clearly heartbroken. But Kate is there, once again, to remind him of the important things, and that there are important things.

Dont give up
You still have us
Dont give up
We dont need much of anything
Dont give up
cause somewhere there’s a place
Where we belong

Rest your head
You worry too much
Its going to be alright
When times get rough
You can fall back on us
Dont give up
Please dont give up

And then…..it happens. The turnaround. It happens musically, it happens narratively, it happens vocally, and it happens to me physically every single time I listen to this song. My heart does this strange twisty-tight-soaring thing. It’s very difficult to explain. And the only thing that causes that physiological reaction in my body is certain songs. It’s the sheer brilliance of music. It’s why it pains me to no end when I hear that people will only let their children experience certain musics, or that certain cultures deny music in total to their inhabitants. If I didn’t have music as part of my existence, I would not exist period.

And Gabriel sings

got to walk out of here
I cant take anymore
Going to stand on that bridge
Keep my eyes down below
Whatever may come
And whatever may go
That rivers flowing
That rivers flowing

It is as much an affirmation as it is a throwing off of shackles. It meant something completely different to me this morning at 30 years old in Los Angeles than it did when I sat listening to it at 20 years old in Santa Cruz. And I couldn’t be more ecstatic about that fact. There’s more to the song, but that is the meat of it.

See, it was a really funny experience, y’know, listening to this song…HAPPY. I was so used to listening to this song abjectly miserable and imagining that there was some amorphous “them” out there, being there for me, telling me not to give up, voiced by the incomparable Ms. Bush, that I’m not sure if I was ever able to conceive of Gabriel’s quiet pain, realizations, eventual synthesis and resolve.

Life is funny like that. See songs are kinda funny things. They share a surreal mirror-like quality with books, films and other media objects. You will never truly experience the object in the same way twice. Especially not years and experiences apart. Every experience you have, every country you visit, every person you meet, every person who hurts you, every sickness you endure, every rebirth you enact…they create a new self-reflection in that mirror that will, in turn, allow you to re-experience your chosen media object.

So go ahead- reread that book you haven’t read for a few years- see what you think!

That album that you used to adore, but you thought you had to shut away because it reminded you “too much” of your ex? There’s a reason you had that album in the first place. You liked it. Sometimes there’s a certain joy and sweetness in the tender memories of former pain. I’m not saying rip open newly healed flesh, by any means, use your best judgement. But these things touch you for a reason. And they should continue to.

I guess, to a certain extent, what I’m saying is…don’t give up.

Peter Gabriel = music to perservere by

Peter Gabriel = music to persevere by

Gaffs, Gazoonies, and Geeks

Let’s talk about carnivals, shall we?

I Love Them. Everything about them. The games, the sounds, the feel, the taste, the smells….well- maybe not *all* the smells, but hey- cotton candy fresh outta the machine? Who can resist THAT smell? In any case, I love carnivals.

The reason I bring this up, has to do primarily with my previous entry, which you may recall, about The Neverending Story. See, I read this book. And it was about carnival life, and joining the circus, and…..I just didn’t want it to end.

No, it wasn’t Geek Love, although I have read that book as well. No, it was much, much better.

Many months ago, my mother handed me this book called Water For Elephants, and she insisted I read it, saying (as my mother usually does when she finds something that is off-beat, wacky and just “out there” enough) “This is just your speed.” While this sometimes that makes me feel like I am driving the short bus, I have come to realize that this particular vehicle happens to be chock full of incredibly intelligent, quirky, sometimes misanthropic but always engaging humans, and I don’t really *mind* going that “speed.” So I keep driving.

So I read Water For Elephants. And, as usual, my mother was spot-on. This book was BRILLIANT.  It really isn’t often that I add things to my favorite books list. In fact, I think the last time I did, I got a line from it tattooed on my arm and I was 19 or 20 years old.  I’m adding this to the list.  Maybe someday I’ll post that list here.  Books are one of the only areas I am very confident and have an incredibly limited scale of favorites. When you get into other media….forget it. At any rate, I digress. Back to Water For Elephants.

In my living room, on one of my many bookcases, I have an entire shelf that is overflowing with “carnival content.” From fact to fiction, photography to posters, I have collected books and studies on freakshows, canivals and circus life in general. While I am most certainly no expert, as I have not yet memorized the entirety of carny lingo, I have most certainly tried my best and am still trying to know as much about the midway, ten-in-one’s, and the rest, as I can.

As a fan/lover/carnival aficionado, I can tell you the historicity on this book was…exquisite. There were a few areas where the language was a bit clunky, but the protagonist himself was clunky at those times, so I think that perhaps I was just being a bit too nitpicky at the characters being “overexplanatory” in ways  and things that I already knew. Of course, one must always recognize things like this to be a hazard of the trade, I suppose, when you do school yourself/specialize  in a subject like that. But in any case, unlike Keanu Reeves’ attempt at a British accent in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, this little point did not prove to be very distracting or obnoxious.

Gruen did her homework. That much is for sure. Even moreso, she was able to write a believable male character…in several stages of his life. I believe that one of the most striking things about this piece of literature, beyond centering, quite literally, on the more animalistic arenas of circus life, was that it didn’t just cover, didn’t just delve, but it bathed in the muddy process of aging, and what that might entail.

circus-sells1This isn’t an easy book. And it doesn’t have the kitsch or the camp of some of the more popular carnival fare (pun intended), like She-Freak or Freaks. In fact it bares a more consistent thematic to something like Nightmare Alley, and yet even that is an unfair comparison. No, this book is unlike any story I have seen or read before. Thus…I have to read it again. I haven’t said THAT about a book since……well, probably that same one I got the line tattooed on my arm!

If you decide to read any piece of fiction in the near future, might I recommend that you give Water for Elephants a try? It too might be just your speed, too…..

I Got My TV Eye On You….

RIP Ron Asheton

RIP Ron Asheton

I love The Stooges.

Always have, always will.

RIP, Mr. Asheton. Thanks for the tuneage.

Written on the pages is the answer to a never ending story…

I remember the first time I saw the film and I imagined….the concept.

The film was released in 1984, so I was a whopping 8 years old, full of curly brown hair and Rogers & Hammerstein tunes.  With a bit of Culture Club and Michael Jackson’s Thriller, for good measure of course. After all, what goes better with terribly effeminate British pop-stars and Carousel than Vincent Price discussing the undead, am I right or am I right?

But the idea of it- a never ending story. A book with endless pages.  A nonstop, interminable narrative, filling my eyes, mind, heart, imagination and, well…everything with words and images. Needless to say, I was in love.

the-neverending-story-min-book1

And the film……..well, to this day, it holds up. I will defend that to the nth degree. But actually, this post is not really about the film. This post is not entirely about the fact that I still, to this day, have NO idea what the hell Bastian’s mom’s name was and what he shouts out, and this post is not about how much I adore Falkor, or how much I wanted a racing snail, or even how the Rock Biter makes me cry. Every. Single. Time.

*love*

*love*

No, instead I’m going to tell you about how I thought about how I wished that The Neverending Story really existed today, when I finished one of the best books I have ever read. I wanted the book to continue. I wished it would just make like the Energizer Bunny and keep going and going and going…BUT NO.

IT ENDED.

And I was……sad.

Because I’ve never read anything like it, and it lead me up, up and away and I was running and I was breathless and oh my god look at the view and wow holy cow check it out, ma, top of the world and and and…..then it was all done. But that is the sad beauty of these things. There is no such thing as The Neverending Story, nor should there be. It would ruin our appreciation of the unique & exquisite taste of each morsel of culture-visual, aural, sensual or otherwise.

Every season turn turn turn and all that mishegoss.

But somehow, with literature, it just seems all that more poignant. Perhaps because I find so few fiction books these days that make everything that is “me” stand up and say WOW! Now that’s what I call good readin’!!   So finishing this book ends another cycle, until the next one comes along.

Keep your eyes out for an actual review of said book….Will be coming along shortly…

Shatner v. Spader, pt.1

Boston Legal Brilliance

Boston Legal Brilliance

Denny: Tried it on, kept it on, doesn’t mean I forgive you.

Alan: Got it…Denny, you look pretty in pink.

Denny: Not having sex with you.

Alan: Just the same…

Top 5 Films of 2008…

All right cats & kittens, here we are- end of the year- and I know that AT LEAST one of you would like to know what my top 5 films of 2008 (that I have SEEN) are.

Well, y’know what?
Not only am I going to tell you, but I’m going to SHOW you.

I will post a trailer for each one of my favorite films of this year, with a brief description of why I adore it and think it rocked my socks more than the, well, um, embarrassingly large amount of other films I have seen within the year. Although, that said, truth be told…the large amount of films wasn’t always recent films so I guess that doesn’t really count. BUT THESE DO!!

And these films are EXCELLENT. Seriously. Really really really good. This is the first year I have gone to see new films multiple times in the theater in a VERY long time (many many years…perhaps since Lost Highway or American Beauty) and it is with great passion and cinematic drive that I urge you to partake in these pieces of celluloid. It’s been a shitty shitty year for me in my personal life, but good GOD it’s been a great year for me with movies!

So here’s the way it’s gonna work. I’m gonna post my top 5, but they will NOT, I repeat NOT be in any kind of qualitative order. In other words, there’s just simply no way that I could like one of these over another over another. They are all so different and so amazing in their own ways, and I cannot put one above the other. So, think of ’em on the same scale of Cinema Love, and enjoy.

Lemme know whatcha think, k?

Celluloid kisses and Reel-y big hugs,

Ariel

I don’t play favorites very often, if at all, but if pressed…this was my very favorite film of 2008. The first 45 seconds left me thrilled, stunned, and shocked. This is not your average film. More than anything, this is absolutely nothing at ALL like Waking Life. Don’t even *think* about comparing the two. This film is brutal, gorgeous, and relentless. I think I probably cried through 70% of the film, half because of the sheer magnificence of the art and splendor of the cinematic story before me and half because of content. The animation and the process (of which Folman has several articles/interviews available) are beyond compare.
I can truly truly truly say that I have never seen anything like it.
This film is out now. You will be doing yourself a complete disservice if you do not SEE THIS FILM. The soundtrack, the visuals, the EVERYTHING…perfection. Waltz With Bashir. AMAZING.

If nothing else gets you, the performances ALONE are enough to warrant the ridiculous amount of money theaters are charging for admission these days. However, it’s not just that. This film virtually *drips* with quality. To me, it was like watching the most sensationally intense boxing match I had ever seen in my life. So much so, that at times, it even seemed to be photographed in slightly that manner. Alongside the obviously interesting historical issues and the simply fascinating discussion on the media (including media figures), this film also focuses on the viewer’s own emotional positionality, toying with it a bit, based on the magnificent performances and incredible story in tandem. I dug that part A LOT. Well played, Mr. Howard, one of the best you’ve done!

OK, so aside from my fascination with (read: massive crush on) Robert Downey Jr.for the last 20 years, my absolute adoration for Jeff Bridges and my newfound interest in Terrance Howard (after Hustle & Flow), this movie rocked me. It is a solid and striking film, and I say that not just because I’m a comic book geek, not just because it was fun and exciting, and not just because it was well-written and structured (although it was all of those things and more). What is truly arresting about Iron Man is Favreau’s choice to lay bare the multitude of issues surrounding war as a business and an economic industry, and what that really means, in such an updated, contemporary fashion. Anyone who says that comic book movies are just fluff pieces with no transitive value, needs to experience Iron Man in all its glory. Seriously.

Yeah, I’ve been raving about this left, right & center. FINE. See, I love wrestling. I do. I wouldn’t have written a 35-pg paper about wrestling (that I eventually presented at a international conference) if I didn’t love it. But that’s not the only reason I love this movie. I love this film because it’s accurate as HELL and grips your heart in a choke-hold, refusing to let go. The balls-out emotional intensity is matched only by the wrestling itself, which, I might add, was great. But you DON’T HAVE TO LOVE WRESTLING TO LOVE THE MOVIE. My only criticism was Evan Rachel Wood. She was not good. At all. But the rest of the film was graphic, brutal, and painful in all the right ways. I cried. A lot. Great performances, great characters, and WOW, um, Marisa Tomei? HOT!
On a more personal level, I *finally* feel like a film has been made that will help dispel the myth that wrestling is easy and “fake,” and without any real consequence, something I appreciated beyond measure.

At first, I was just ecstatic about the choice to replace Mrs. Scientologist herself, Katie Holmes, from the first film with…well, anyone. Little did I know it was only going to skyrocket in OMFG HOW AMAZING CAN THIS BE-ness from there. Suffice to say that 2008 was a damn fine year to be a comic book geek who also happens to spend many of her waking hours ‘neath the silvery screen. It’s incredibly difficult to enunciate (at least in a professional or eloquent sense) my feelings about Chris Nolan’s work on The Batman, other than…IT RULES. I kinda turn into a 14-year-old boy. My academic side would like to tell you, however, that this is probably one of the most (if not THE most) faithful comic-to-film adaptations that has been done thus far, both thematically and content-wise. Not only that, but the performances were startlingly good, and the skillful direction and the only-when-needed use of digital effects was gratefully noted and appreciated.