Friday, July 30, 2004

FREE PUNDITRY

Here is some free punditry for you based on my scattershot viewings of the Democratic National Convention, the highlight of which was figuring out the different time delays between networks and then switching between them to hear the same word up to four times.

Bill Clinton:  Clinton proved why he's remembered for his charisma and speaking skills; far and away the strongest speaker at the convention.  Well-written jokes that were equally well delivered.  He's smooth and at ease and almost conversational.

Al Gore:  Gore spoke to his audience like they were stupid, stupid children.  Make no mistake, he should have won in 2000...  it was handed to him and he blew it.  This speech showed why.

Obama:  The man with no one to run against is the new star of the Democratic party.  I imagine Democrats are thinking what sportswriters have been thinking about Michael Vick since watching him do that-crazy-thing-he-does...  Please don't let anything happen to him.

John Edwards:  For all the praise he gets about being a great orator...  Bleh.  Not a bad speech, but the kind of speech that would be considered quality from a Cheney or a Gephardt or a not-so-good-speaker.  Edwards reputation sets him on another plane, where speaking actually turns votes.  And it's on that plane that he fails.  BONUS NOTE:  Very socialist undertones.  SUPER EXTRA BONUS NOTE:  Edwards did demonstrate that if you don't mention the opposition, you can say whatever the hell you want.  This could actually be an effective rhetorical strategy in the long haul to November.

John Kerry:  Didn't see it.  I'm sorry.  But I wanted to mention that Kerry's delivery oftentimes reminds me of the Simpsons Treehouse of Horror with Bill Clinton and Bob Dole being replaced with aliens.  From Kerry stumping today (and not an unusual thing):  "We need to reach, reach, reach for the future."  From Kang (or was it Kodos?): "Always twirling, twirling, twirling towards the future."

Another Note to Magazine Writers...

While internet forums and Amazon.com reader reviews can be a good jumping point for your own interviewing, they do not replace it.

The next time I read the words, "Fishiekuj23 says, this book sucks," or any other variation thereof is the time I cut off your internet access permanently.

The Lost Boys of America

"They have a total ability to block out anything they don't want to get through... that's what makes this animal so scary."

...in an advertising sense.

Wired has this story on what advertisers are doing to recapture a generation that doesn't listen to their messages. There's a suggestion here that we are on the brink of a marketing revolution.

I don't know if it's very clear what's going to happen but something is, and advertisers and consumers are aware of it.

Monday, July 26, 2004

The Hour Past Bewilderbeast

It's no secret that once you've gotten on Pitchfork's bad side that you ain't comin back.  The only thing the magazine loves more than holding a grudge is pretending to struggle not to.

Certain bands are given a protection clause, which gives them a few albums to muck up before being thrown to the fire.  Perennial favorites like Radiohead or The White Stripes are included here.  But most receive the termination of contract notice in the mail and will never regain their former status.  The Eels, Ryan Adams and Pedro the Lion have all produced slump-ceasing records which have regained for them some respect elsewhere while they continue to dig through dumpsters at Pitchfork.  It's a bit like an individual who has gone through a difficult and public divorce...  They may rebuild their lives into something truly joyful, but they'll never fully discard their painful past, and those who saw the painful moments will never be able to look at them the same.  Damien Gough, the Badly Drawn Boy, is a member of the Pitchfork Pit of Eternal Despair and proves so with his latest album One Plus One is One.

But what's interesting in the Pitchfork review of the album is the introduction's focus on Gough's weird tie to another on Pitchfork's blacklist...  Nick Hornby.

Hornby is part of this weird group of fringe mainstream writers who, upon receiving commercial success, began attempts to yank increasingly popular underground artists into the mainstream light.  These artists became Lottery millionaires who really could have earned their own way to wealth but now stand without legitimacy to their riches.  It's the classic story of the one-hit wonders and the sell-outs.  It's just that instead of a faceless money-hungry corporation, the source is a creator who wants to share their achievements with other artists they respect.  What makes it even weirder is that the benefactors enter and set up residence in the world of those they benefact.  Nick Hornby's venture in music criticism and Michael Chabon's work with comics are probably the two most prevalent, current examples.  In both these cases, neither has earned their right to the new land they've staked out, they've just gone in and taken it (as a provision of the Fair Housing Act?).

The result of it all is hollow wish fulfillment that depletes both parties.  I'm not saying that it's a bad thing to donate one's fame or wealth to those below you.  The detrimental thing is to graft one's self to a championed cause as opposed to feeding it so that it can grow.

Friday, July 23, 2004

Stuff.

Gorgeous, cool day here in Chicago (perfect football weather a few months too early) following a brutally hot and ugly yesterday.  Took some pictures which I'll share as soon as the new comp is assembled.

Guts for my desktop computer are on order, so hopefully I'll be back to actually working on the site in a week or so.

Kristi and I went to go see Tim Howard of Soltero at a coffee shop up by Wrigley Field.  The act after him was his complete antithesis.  In a world where the events of movies like Drumline, Bring It On and You Got Served are real, Tim and Jeff (whatever his last name was) would have to have had (!!!) a guitar fight.  (Tim would have to be given bad choreography just to make the fight look fair. )  Howard is a scrawny, pale, straight-haired, smartass cynicist from Boston.  His nemesis was a fit, tan, curly-locked, sincere romantic from California.  Strum skirmish!  Chord combat!  A borrowed guitar pick unfortunately kept things civil.

Eightball 23 is a nice comic from Daniel Clowes, but honestly, the best thing I picked up from the comics shop last week was Infinite Kung Fu.  omg.  If Kill Bill gave you any joy, run to your local comics shop and buy some IKF immediately.  Review is upcoming. 

Monday, July 19, 2004

I Heart Napoleon Dynamite

I saw Napoleon Dynamite for the second time last night. It makes me laugh.

Stylistically, it's an MTV Films clone of Wes Anderson. As a hybrid of the two, it works. Only occasionally is Napoleon Dynamite detrimentally reminiscent, and even then the moments are too hilarious to pay too much attention to.

Honestly, there are plenty of reasons not to like the movie. If you don't think the whole Napoleon Dynamite character is funny, you're probably going to want to walk out. But check the trailer and if you enjoy it, I swear you'll love the film.

Sunday, July 18, 2004

Fahrenheit 9-11 : Response

The defining point of Fahrenheit 9-11 occurs when Michael Moore meets the film's poster-mother, Lila Lipscomb - the Michigan mom of a fallen soldier - in Washington D.C. On her way to see the White House, Lipscomb steps aside at a poster booth set up on the sidewalk... While the camera never lingers on the booth for long (why doesn't Moore want us to see it? -to use one of his own techniques), it appears to be the kind of conspiracy hut, common in DC and not unheard of elsewhere, where the names are changed to fit the times and particular argument but the pictures remain the same. As Lipscomb's attention pulls deeper into the booth (and, really, her own grievance) and mutters about President Bush killing her son, another woman steps in front of the camera flapping her arms and sqwuaking, 'This is all a set up... it's all staged.' Lila Lipscomb confronts this second woman to express the reality she is living, to which the woman allegedly responds, "You should blame Al Qaeda" - obviously, not even a factually correct statement.

And so, our middle-road Mid-America heroine, emotionally torn and confused, is stuck between two extremes: the first a paranoid distortion, the second a cold ignorance.

This is how it's been in the national debate. On the news networks, pundits are paired off like a dysfunctional Noah's ark to give "perspective" on cookie-cutter issues where the audience already knows what they're going to say. Pick your side because it's not the other side, they announce. The middleground is still the territory being fought over and is still where most politicians dwell, but the parties have learned it's a dangerous territory to wage the battle within. So they don't. When you're standing right next to the dividing line, it's easy to lose people to the other side. But if you wage war from the extreme corners of the map, you can easily pull folks in to your purported safety; even better, they have a long run if they want to switch sides. So, the extremes have hijacked the debate and are tugging at the wheel for control of the country's direction.

Michael Moore yanks hard in Fahrenheit 9-11.

I have a few major issues with the phenomenon of the film, although I will not pretend to abhor every ounce of it.

First : Moore the Magician

If you can suspend your disbelief, maybe the first act of the movie will captivate you. When you see this movie (again), I encourage you to watch for the sleight of hand, though. You'll notice it.

Moore's narration (through humor and rhetorical question) is intended to guide your thought pattern while he takes the reasoned explanation and hides it in his hat. Same with the editing. Little is total fabrication; just as magic tricks are not performed thanks to mystical power, Moore's film relies (mostly) on entirely true bits of information. But pay attention to how Moore needs you to believe certain assertions laid carefully on top of those facts, though, or how he bends the timetable of events (dates occasionally appear on the screen, making it easier for a viewer to keep track). The whole trick will collapse in front of your eyes. Check out Dave Kopel's (a 2000 Nader endorser) extensive write-up on the film if you would prefer to have some of the method blatantly explained.

At other times, Moore constructs more elaborate devices; take, for instance, the recruiting of congressmen's children. No congressman has the actual right to sign their child up for the military (17-year-olds require parental consent). So, the exercise of having congressmen sign up their sons and daughters is guaranteed to get the results Moore is seeking. Considering this "failure" is bona fide, how pitiful are the actual results? Moore gets people to ignore him on their way to other things or to be - at least, pretend to be - thoughtful with his laughably outrageous documentation.

If Moore's case is really convincing, why does he feel the need to resort to parlor tricks and crafted illusions to express it?

Because that is what he is... A birthday party magician. Having discovered powerful footage outside of the public eye (particularly, the "7 Minutes" and Gore's silencing of the 2000 Election opponents), he must turn these pieces into props for his act, unable to let them stand for themselves. Somehow, the footage overcomes Moore's murky plot; in nearly every major review of the film, these are the highlighted moments.

The bottom-line: Moore might succeed as a comedian, but he's made a piss poor documentary out of blatant misdirections.

Second: Critics, Accolades and the Media

I find it shocking that given the extensive reporting of Moore's fibs, exaggerations and stagings in Bowling for Columbine that an overwhelming majority of critics so quickly garnished Fahrenheit with unrelenting praise. Alright, okay, so they might have relented long enough to say that the film was pretty one-sided. In fact, stories which critically analyzed Moore's construction and content have been labelled as "critiques" distinctly setting them apart from the salivary traditional reviews of the Justice League of Film Critics (JLFC). The craft is dead.

The following is addressed to the JLFC, although the rest of you may read:


Critics, you may think you can hedge your bets by saying something along the lines of, "It is worth seeing, debating and thinking about, regardless of your political allegiances." You are wrong.

To say that a hastily fabricated conspiracy plot is worth listening to simply because you are unsure of its legitimacy is to betray your readership and to cede your piece's entire point for existing.

Your purpose is to head poor arguments - whether in their construction or content - off at the pass. Don't tell me to do your job for you.

Next time, send your paycheck to someone who knows what they're talking about. Let them give us some actual criticism, because a claim that is blatantly untrue is not worth listening to, it is not worth thinking about, it is not worth debating. It is a waste of time.

P.S. When it comes to fueling debate on foreign policy, tell people to fucking pick up the newspaper you write for (or.. Hell. Turn to another section).

Needless to say, I also disagree strongly with this year's judges at Cannes.  It seems to me, they were swept away in the emotional intensity surrounding Fahrenheit's premiere and were unable to objectively step aside and - like a good chunk of critics - do their job correctly.


Third: The True American Patriot 

Something I've heard from a lot of people who liked Fahrenheit 9-11 is, "I agree with his goal, so I mostly enjoyed it." It's my opinion that we shouldn't endorse extremists simply because we see them being on our side. If we, conservative or liberal, simply smile quietly while the fringes spout ridiculous claims, we effectively disenfranchise ourselves.

One of Moore's recurring commentaries on the so-called "War on Terror" is that the United States funded/supported Osama bin Laden in order to oust Russia from Afghanistan.  Whatever the validity of the claim, it is the criticism itself that I want to focus on here; that is, the U.S. tolerated extremists when such a course was favorable but now witnesses its brutal repercussions.  See what I'm getting at?

Since 9-11, there has been a screwball cultural war over who is more patriotic: those who unfailingly support the government's actions or those who unfailingly question them.  Of course, the middleground has been largely eliminated as we who are skeptically-faithful of any mixture have polarized ourselves - magnetically attracted to our sense of "team".  We are largely to blame for disinformation wherever it comes from, because we are too tied to our partisan "patriotism" to challenge that which aids our greater efforts.

I recently came across this piece from George Orwell, which I think speaks strongly to this issue and with which I will conclude this response.  Incidentally, Moore misfocuses Fahrenheit's quoting of Orwell and, in effect, misinterprets it.  I hope to fair better with this on the inherency of dangerous nationalism:

The most one can say is that people can be fairly good prophets when their wishes are realizable. But a truly objective approach is almost impossible, because in one form or another almost everyone is a nationalist... The most intelligent people seem capable of holding schizophrenic beliefs, or disregarding plain facts, of evading serious questions with debating-society repartees, or swallowing baseless rumours and of looking on indifferently while history is falsified. All these mental vices spring ultimately from the nationalistic habit of mind, which is itself, I suppose, the product of fear and of the ghastly emptiness of machine civilization....

I believe that it is possible to be more objective than most of us are, but that it involves a moral effort. One cannot get away from one's own subjective feelings, but at least one can know what they are and make allowance for them

from the Partisan Review, Winter 1945



Friday, July 16, 2004

Note to Magazine Writers

From The Atlantic:

In early February I sat in a Starbucks in downtown Washington with Dan Feldman, who is helping to organize Senator John Kerry's foreign-policy team.

If you are going to mention where you met for your interview, you better damn well be sure it's an interesting location or, in the very least, has some relevance to your story. The local Starbucks doesn't cut it. Sorry.

This and the "light streamed through the window" are possibly the goofiest magazine writing cliches around.

pitchfork is for pitchdorks

It's no secret that we've been bouncing around a Rock Criticism Dictionary for some time. Allegedly, Andy has a pretty sizeable portion of it written and in a secret vault somewhere.

But what happens when math dorks try to dissect the puzzling language of pop music critics?

Pitchformula is what. A database analysis of the reviews on Pitchfork Media, Pitchformula is intended to discover the perfect song, at least when it's pitched to the Pitchforks. Little is particularly startling, but it's funny to see a mathematical proof that the indie rock elite think "yelling" in a song is a bad move.

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

TMQB Audibles on F-9/11

Gregg Easterbrook, a brillant man first, a brillant writer second, and a man with liberal ideas third, tears into Michael Moore at the New Republic online.

The New Republic is a fairly left-wing publication, so I'm even happier to see the man torn down at a place where he expects to be revered.

The money lines?

"Canadian Bacon has a 20-second scene that presages the Michael Moore to come...at one point, a [U.S] commando falls and injures himself. The nearest other commando turns and, without hesitation, shoots his comrade repeatedly through the head. It's an ugly, sadistic scene totally out of place in what is otherwise a slapstick farce. Though it gets the message across: Michael Moore deeply, deeply hates the United States."

Also, the fine people at Cox and Forkum have a wonderul political cartoon today. If you're checking the link at a later date, this would be the cartoon from July 13.

Monday, July 12, 2004

"A: He's the all-time 'Jeopardy!' champ"

Ken Jennings has been winning on Jeopardy since June 2 and is less than $80,000 away from a million.

Apparently, Jeopardy lifted its five-day limit for contestants at the beginning of this season (another guy had a 7 day run in January) and Jennings has been making the most of it.

If you remember the early run of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, it's my opinion that people were fascinated because of the show's ability to perpetually beat its contestants. So, when that first million-dollar contestant used his final lifeline simply to announce to his father that he had beaten the machine, the show reached its unsurmountable apex.

Ken Jennings' Jeopardy run has the potential to rekindle the phenom of Jeopardy in a very similar yet fundamentally opposite way. Here is a person the machine (and other people) simply cannot beat. As remarkable as the success will be, the climax of this story is going to be his defeat. That is what we are watching for however much we respect/adore Jennings himself. As such, his humble and human approach to his winnings (telling his wife the money would be going solely to DVDs, for instance) is probably the healthiest thing for him.

...I may be renting Quiz Show this week.

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

Anchorman

Will Ferrell just showed up and went crazy on CNBC's Power Lunch, not where I would expect him to be and - it seemed - not where the hosts of that particular show expected him to be. He yelled a bit, threw a chair on a desk, and then pounded away at a tri-LCD-screen computer and screamed "This computer isn't real!"

Amazing Spider-Man of Kavalier and Clay

In case you didn't notice, Michael Chabon has a story credit for Spider-Man 2.

So, he's written a terrific novel about comic books, a pretty decent movie based on a comic book but has yet to write a good comic (this is where the link to the Pop Matters review of the comic book spin-off of Kavalier and Clay will go, but they're running sluggish today).

Does Whatever a Spider Can

Spiderman 2 is not the best of a bad genre (link from Bookslut)... I reserve that prize for X-Men 2 (capturing the spirit of the serials without apologizing for being a big budget action flick) or American Splendor (a comic that transcends being a comic book, a movie that transcends being an adaptation). S2 is manically disjointed and the series' characters have turned into caricatures of what they were in the first film. Overall, the movie seems uncertain how it wants to spend its time when there are not collossal battles going on.

What makes S2 better than the first and a pretty decent comic book film, then, is this: the villain.

Let's be honest... Most Spiderman villains are small-time. Sure, they can do some real damage, but these guys aren't the devour-the-world, wipe-out-the-human-race, gruesomely-unstable types. True, somebody has got to stop Lizard or Rhino and stop them quickly, but on a national or even global scale their potential to harm is low. They are little buckets of rage, which makes for intense dueling with other superhumans and a few dozen homicides but no real danger to society as a whole. They are the status quo of villainy - they punch really hard and are good at blowing things up. There's nothing particular captivating about their method of destruction, they're just hell bent on it.

There are really only a few Spiderman villains you are interested in seeing in action: only one is human. He is Doctor Octopus. Four bionic tendrils attached to his back reach, grab, suspend, crush and delicately manipulate in ways that a two-ton muscle man or a special suit on a hovering glider could not even attempt. Sure, the real spider is Peter Parker, but when Otto Octavius sinisterly looms above another character he is as frightening as a prowling arachnid. The wild strands of chaos are spectacular when these cyborg arms claw and climb against the web-slinger. Where Spidey's fights with the Green Goblin were like tennis, a concentrated volley of lethal strikes, his fights with the Doc Ock are like football, multiple fronts on each side attempting to outposition the opposition.

These scenes and this character mask the faults of the film so exceptionally well that you don't mind the fact that the rest of the movie has regressed.

Of course, the problem for the foreseeable future is that Sam Raimi will send us back to the lackluster world of the Green Goblin and astronaut John Jameson as Manwolf (maybe even Dr. Connors as Lizard?) before we get another not-dull, maybe even spectacular villain (in the form of Venom).

It's All About the Dopamine

A former Kindler has some thoughts on
video games and addiction
in response to the Everquest Daily Grind, a collection of anecdotes from the associates of Evercrack junkies where you can read stories like this:

"I've tried tricking myself into letting my own baggage about the game go, for instance by pretending to myself that he's a Ph.D. candidate, say, or a medical student who needs to study all the time and thus cannot fairly be expected to do his share of cooking, shopping, or cleaning. I find myself hoping against hope that I'm not simply being used (allowing myself to be used), and that our friendship is in fact one-sided and wonderfully convenient for him."

As I write in the GGA coments section, I recently read that video games release dopamine in the brain, inducing pleasure and concentration and also making games highly addicting. With gaming's mainstream popularity rapidly growing, we are seeing more cases like those on EDG appear without the tag "he just really likes video games" alongside. As much as those in the gaming culture want to protect the hobby, there are negative issues that may need addressing.