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Memo, Dec 31 2003 TO: CSB I wanted to share with all of you a little bit on how I feel about film, a medium with inherent importance that has grown beyond personal speculation at this point in my life. Cinematic language is my most personally taxing and wholly satisfying means of expression, while simultaneously the films of others, when I connect to them, have the greatest power of all art forms to awe me over sustained periods of time. And it is important to note that to see an original Pollack I have to go to the MOMA, to see great Eugene O'Neil I probably had to go to England for the first run of Kevin Spacey or Jason Robards in The Iceman Cometh. But most films are accessible in some format no matter which town I live in, sometimes even more accessible than books. While books have occasionally taken me on journeys and made my own life appear peripheral (if only for a few hours here and there) it is film that absorbs me, and truly immerses me, combining all my favorite aesthetic pleasures, from photography to music, into one experience. Though many films offend me, or appear carelessly crafted, unimaginative, and trite, every so often a gem comes along, one that reminds why I love it all in the first place. This holiday season, I have experienced one of those gems, one of those one-of-a-kind movie experiences, one which I will never forget. The name of that film was Bad Santa. I also did something kinda kooky: I watched two four-hour movies and one three-and-a-half hour movie, all in a row, in a big theater in Short Pump, Virginia, which for all I can tell is a strip-mall near Richmond. The first four-hour movie was called Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring Extended Edition. The second-four hour movie was called Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers Extended Edition. The third title I missed because I was having back spasms and all I could see was the ceiling, but the words Return of the King appeared six or seven minutes into it, so I assume that was the title and not the name of the director, although you never know in the film industry. I have seen The Fourth Film By Quentin Tarantino, so who knows if Brian DePalma wanted his next film billed as The Return of the King, with another back spasm causing me to miss Of Edifying Masculinity, Objectifying Women and Moving the Camera A Lot. In many ways it was like watching a single eleven hour film. I sat in that theater determined not to miss a moment; a level of concentration held to such intensity that no single line became superfluous, no scene was fuzzied by the eating a sandwich made while pausing the disc. I watched all the fucking Lord of the Rings movies as they are available today, every frame. In the end, I'm a little depressed about the whole thing. Recently, I was going over some footage from a movie I directed, footage that had been shot in the fall of 2000. It was some video of a clouded skyline and a low, late-afternoon sun, shot near the Appalachian mountains in Southwest Virginia. As I watched the tape, over the audio I could hear myself and a friend, off-camera, chatting it up. ME: "--the effects are going to be amazing." Like a time-warp, man. It had been post Star Wars Episode One: The Colossal Disappointment, and two children born of the late seventies were hungry, DESPERATE for a huge genre film to kick their asses. And that hope was called The Lord of the Rings. Fun Fact: I hadn't even read The Hobbit, I just knew that everybody else loved the books, and Peter "Feebles" Jackson was exactly the kind of guy who should be given a hundred million dollars to make a movie with. In the same way that Bruce Campbell should be the highest paid actor in Hollywood, Peter Jackson should be the most powerful director. And yet while Bruce is still knocking them down at the neighborhood gym, Peter was going to get a chance to fight the champ. So the first film finally came around and didn't kick my ass. Fellowship was, frankly, pretty uninvolving for much of the running time. I dug much of it, especially the blustery bipolar dwarf, but when that Balrog showed up I thought, "Cool effects. But I'm just not exactly floored." The whole movie was like that. Cool, but no floor. The movie didn't really reach me until the climatic moments; when the two funny hobbits got brave, Sean Bean made a valiant last stand, the sound effect of the orc's bowstring being pulled taught, that big orc pulled itself forward on the sword to basically just say "You think you bad?" in Orc language, and then got its head cut off. The whole sequence still gives me chills. I couldn't believe how affecting those final scenes were for me; I've seen a million movies where a dying guy is told his death was not in vain, and this time I actually felt something resembling an emotion. I finally felt for Frodo as he stood on that riverbank, and Sam when he said "Of course you are... and I'm coming with you!" I finally dug the elf when he was shooting arrows really fast, and the completely inconclusive ending was given a thrill of anticipation by a couple well-placed leit-motifs. The music in all three films is astounding. After John Williams set the standard of movie-score as cheerleader, Howard Shore has created a wall-to-wall score that added character and *shock* resonance. Howard Shore should always have been the highest paid composer in Hollywood, and now he might finally be. So I saw it and thought, "Well, it was good, it was really well done... I dunno, I was kind of hoping it would kick my ass. I really want to see the next one." And so I found myself somewhat disappointed, and I went on with my day. When I saw it a second time approximately four days later, I became convinced that this was the SINGLE BEST MOVIE EVER CREATED IN ANY AGE OF ANY EARTH. I couldn't fucking believe my eyes. EVERY SINGLE SHOT OF THIS THREE HOUR MOVIE IS A TRICK SHOT. Ian Holm is NOT that short! Fucking Elijah Wood just jumped through the air and hugged Ian McKellen, and he was like three feet tall! Where was the special effect!?! WHAT THE FUCK!?! Then I learned that lots of shots were done with forced perspective, trick props, etcetera... THEY HAD TO THINK ABOUT EVERY SHOT IN THE MOVIE!! Did they all have masters in psychology?! HOW DID THEY KNOW IT WOULD WORK!?! GAHH!!! Then there was all the great acting! GREAT ACTING in a cgi fantasy film?! Yeah, who would have thought! I LOVED ALL THE CHARACTERS!! I LOVED FRODO AND SAM AND GANDALF AND MERRY AND PIPPIN AND STRIDER AND BOROMIR AND GIMLI AND LEGOLAS AND GALADRIEL AND SARUMAN AND ELROND AND BILBO AND Liv Tyler was pretty good. I LOVED ALL THE PERFORMANCES!!! I LOVED THE DANISH TEXAN FROM ARGENTINA! Hell, I even loved Rudy and North! I cried in every scene, like a big blubbery puss-monster. Well, not really, but I definitely cried when Bilbo cried in Rivendell, and I definitely cried when Frodo cried after Gandalf died, and I think I cried when Aragon cried at the end. I cried when the dwarf tried to hit the ring with his ax, I cried when the eagle saved the Wizard, and I cried when the hobbit farted after eating Elf-bread. Oh, wait, that was the extended edition. So I cried a year later, too and I DO NOT CRY AT MOVIES. By the way, Aragon totally kissed that dead dude at the end, and I have seen this film with a dozen different audiences, most of them college sets, and I have never seen or heard somebody snicker, make a joke, make a comment, or anything that dumbass college kids do when they get uncomfortable (which usually happens when a man kisses a man). Aragon kisses that dude's head, and not a peep from the audience. THAT'S how good Lord of the Rings was! Fun Fact: So like a rabid, foaming dog I awaited the next entry. Imagine that, an entire year of foaming and barking. During this year of anticipation I watched The Fellowship of the Ring: Long-Ass DVD Version, and found that though everything was good, I preferred the theatrical version. Some parts are improved, but overall the shorter cut is a better movie, and everything they spelled out and underlined in that long version is still there in the original. I thought the only really strong addition was the afore-mentioned Hobbit fart. So for a year I got all jazzed up during those closing moments, when the hopes of Middle Earth and the main characters all seemed to be utterly fucked. I wanted to see the next one so so so damn bad. And I refused to read the books. Everyone said, "Oh, but you've got to read the books." But I have no patience for fantasy books. I wanted to walk in fresh to see this story as THE GREATEST MOVIE TRILOGY EVER MADE. Like a virgin waiting for wedding night, I stayed away from the Tolkien books, but like a thirty-year old unmarried virgin, I wondered if I was going to die before the big day ever happened. Imagine that, getting mugged and saying "DON'T SHOOT! I HAVE TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS IN THE LORD OF THE RINGS!!" I finally saw The Two Towers, at the last show of the opening day, with a group of my closest friends and my Stoned Friend. In any story in which I mention my stoned friend, it's the same guy. My Stoned Friend has enlivened The Hulk and The Matrix Reloaded with his awed, giggling presence in the theater, and Stoned Friend helped make The Two Towers, by saying "Oh Shit!" at normal speaking volume anytime something remotely cool happened, which means that in the course of three hours, he averaged 2 Oh Shits per minute. But all during Two Towers, I kept thinking; "Fuck the horse people, I want more Gollum." I could have given a shit about Aragon's character arc. And even at three hours, the movie seemed cut, too short, not enough explained. It seemed like what I liked in the first film was being moved to the background, and a lot of new shit I couldn't care less about was taking center-stage. But some things were wonderful. Music, once again, was awesome. I liked the blustery, bipolar tree-man. As much as I want to hate that beautiful gay Legolas, I just can't. When he rides that shield down the castle steps, shooting several orcs before whipping out his twin swords, I swoon. I also notice that after every closeup shot of Legolas, the air in the movie theater grows warmer and mustier. However, this did not happen when there were closeups of Orlando Bloom in Black Hawk Down, or even Pirates of the Black Pearl Like Beckham. Which leads me to this conclusion; it's not Orlando Bloom that women love, it's Legolas. Once again, the hearts of gals everywhere have been captured by a fictional character, like Lloyd Dobler or Russell Crowe. Orlando Bloom should have it in his contract that in every film henceforth, he gets one set-piece in which he defies gravity and shoots lots of arrows, even if the film is a romantic comedy with Sandra Bullock or a historical epic about Harry Truman. He better do something drastic, because he ain't going to get any mileage out of Troy (which, by the way, should really change its name to Man-Meat: The Movie). He'll be playing Paris, the oldest known character in literature and art that heterosexual males really really hope gets pistol-whipped before the story ends. When the cinematic Paris pouts and fumes his pampered, self-important ass onto the screen wrapped up in the beautiful face of Orlando Bloom, you'll hear the men in the audience mutter for the VERY FIRST TIME in cinematic history: "Man, I can't wait for Brad Pitt to kick that pretty-boy's ass!" While watching The Two Towers during the very last show of opening night in Roanoke, Virginia, the crowd response greatly enhanced the last half of the film. This was especially good for the film-makers, since I was still trying to mentally justify why it had become a very long battle scene in which all of the main characters appear to be un-killable. But the crowd cheering, the group tension mounting, the love in the room for the film... it was more like a concert than a movie. The crowd for my first viewing of Fellowship had included two little old ladies sitting behind me who kept saying, out loud, "What the fuck is this movie?" The crowd for Two Towers was all fans, all loving the fact that they were together on opening night. They all wanted to be there. So when Aragon jumped up, angered by the death of that extremely fey elf from Lothlorian, and descended into the swarm of orcs to really kick some ass, the crowd cheered in a rising crescendo of anticipation. As soon as Aragon hit the crowd of orcs, all the lights in the theater came up and we saw a big closeup of Lisa Kudrow's face. The text next to it read: "Showbiz Fact--Lisa Kudrow was originally cast as Roz on Frasier" And an entire theater of people said in unison: "OH SHIT!" The sound had stopped. It was the last show of the night. We had all waited a year to finally see this movie, and NOW are we going to have to wait until TOMORROW to the see the LAST THIRTY MINUTES!!?!! WHAT?!!!!! And then, suddenly... everybody ran for the bathroom. The film was back up in ten minutes, and we didn't miss a frame, although I thought we had for a very long time, because I still can't understand how Aragon gets out of that swarm of orcs and then back behind the wall of Helm's Deep. I guess it's his elvish upbringing. But I can tell you one thing: No one in that audience will ever forget that Lisa Kudrow was originally cast as Roz in Frasier. So Two Towers ended and I said to myself: "Well, I can't wait for the extended edition." Fun Fact: By the way, I have always hated the speech the Sam gives at the end of Two Towers, about heroes in stories and insurmountable odds. I hated it on first viewing, and as much as I try to forgive it on repeated viewings... I still hate it. I think it cheapens the story, as if there was a need to add more relevance to it and sum it all up. Seeing the movie in the theater a second time and then third time, I found myself digging it more now that I knew where it was going and that it was basically not going to accomplish much narratively. I still hate Sam's fucking speech. But the end of the movie almost completely made up for it with such an evil cliff-hanger... all the music drops out... "We could let... her do it." And the foreboding final shot of a darkened sky with dragons flying in it. The credits rolled and I lept up, screaming "I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE I HAVE TO WAIT ANOTHER YEAR!" I knew the movie was completed somewhere. It was a trick. I wanted it now. What if I died before the movie came out, and shuffled off this mortal coil just shy of seeing the end of The Lord of the Rings? Like Duke on adrenachrome I wanted to grab Peter Jackson and yell "FINISH THE FUCKING STORY!!!" Fun Fact: Watching The Two Towers in the theater, I realized that certain things would have made no sense if I hadn't seen the Extended Edition of Fellowship; the gifts, for example, the elf-bread, and how Frodo knew that Gollum's name was once Smeagol. In discussion, it was suggested to me that everyone who cared about the movies would have seen the long version. I dismiss this rationale, because that's like saying that everybody seeing the movies would have read the books. I have not read the books, and I reject the notion that they are back-story to the films. The films and books of Lord of the Rings exists on two very different universal plains, this is clear, and the films do not hold in continuity to the books. So, the films should be all I need, and I followed the plot of all three movies with ease. What I did NOT always follow was why this was supposed to be such a great story... because watching Two Towers in the theater a third time, I got the most disturbing sense of an incomplete film. Fun Fact: When I mentioned that the Smeagol-finds-the-ring flashback was absent, I was told "It will be in the long version." This bothered me. It bothered me that I was going to have to wait for the full impact of the story until a second viewing. While I am completely appreciative of the long versions being released, I am upset that there are major points and strong moments missing from the theatrical version. I didn't care that the Smeagol flashback was going to be on a DVD one day, to me, it was an INTEGRAL part to the arc of the three films... for the movies to work at all, I think they needed to show us WHY, when Gollum calls himself a murderer, he then weeps and gives up. If that moment continued throughout the entire trilogy without landing a connection, part of the story was going to fall apart for me. THIS I believed. And THIS is one of my main complaints about the Lord of the Rings movies: they are already really fucking long. THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN LONGER. And even single lines that would have made a world of difference to the meanings of the films were excised because of some imaginary concern that the three hour movies would be unacceptable to the public at three-and-a-half hours. Listen, people who can't stand the length are already going to be upset by the three hours. Give us an intermission or something, give the films their full strength on their first viewing, don't make me wait another year to say "OH, NOW I get it!" Watching those extended editions in the theater recently, the long version of Fellowship SUDDENLY felt better than the theatrical release, and all the additional material that seemed superfluous and sometimes repetitive on the DVD, NOW seemed utterly necessary post-Two Towers. Even little moments like introducing the world of the hobbits became a setup to what would be paid off (in about eight hours). I watched the Two Towers Extended Edition for the first time on December 16th 2003, in the theater, right before I was to see Return of the King for the first time, and it was so much better than the theatrical release that I have now decided to never watch the short version again. Though I don't like that so much of the additions were comedy beats (which were probably inserted there to take the curse off a quickly darkening story), the added character scenes were exactly what was needed to flesh out the story to the point where I could almost see why so many people think these were the greatest films of all time. I still hated Sam's speech though. But as the film closed there was a buzz in the crowd, an electricity of under-slept film and fantasy geeks.... WE WERE NOW FINALLY GOING TO SEE RETURN OF THE KING! WE WERE NOW FINALLY GOING TO COMPLETE THE TRILOGY THAT WE HAD PUT THREE YEARS (and for many of them, entire lifetimes) OF ANTICIPATION INTO! I had horrible thoughts that I was going to start puking uncontrollably or die on the spot, before I found out what happens to that damn ring and those darn hobbits. So on December 16th, 2003 (Bill Hicks birthday, he would have been 42. Something tells me Bill would have loved to have seen these movies) at 10pm, I began to watch Return of the King. Fun Fact: Watching the flick in the theater, I didn't want it to end. I wanted the movie to continue for another day, another year. Not because the movie was awesome, but because I suddenly came to realize what I loved about the Lord of the Rings movies as I walked to my car after viewing Return of the King. What I loved about the Lord of the Rings movies is that I hadn't read the books. That I didn't know what happened next. That sometime, someday, I was finally going to find out, and it would be maybe the best movie ever. I loved the ANTICIPATION. I loved the PROMISE. I loved the idea that somebody might be making a movie that finally, FINALLY makes Hollywood say Oh Shit, we've been doing this all wrong. The currently released Return of the King is actually a rough cut. I wish I had waited for the finished film. Hopefully it will be released, on DVD, a year from now. But as it stands, the movie just feels like the end of a dream. A popped bubble. The story has ended. I know what happens. It just didn't kick my ass. Fun Fact: I wish Return of the King had been five hours long, hell, even six. I feel like I've put too much into the movies to just stand up afterwards and say, "Well, I can't wait for the DVD." In fact, I wish I had waited. I wish I hadn't watched Return of the King in the theater. I wish I had waited a year, got the extended edition, then watched the movie for the first time as a gigantic epic to lay waste to all before it. Hell, maybe by then I'll have been able to afford a giant TV screen and speakers that create a theater experience. And I could have invited all my friends and gag them so I didn't have to hear their cute comments and "that elf is so hot." Maybe I'll have Lacuna erase my memories and then do this. But until then, I saw the movie, and it didn't justify my anticipation. After all the time, energy, and mental exhaustion spent waiting for that moment, shouldn't I have been rewarded with the greatest cinematic experience of my life? Instead of hoping the long version is an improvement? But I've thought about it and thought about it... and in the end, I guess I just needed something different. As much as I loved the first movie, the story just didn't go where I hoped. And sure, I learned a lot. I learned that the standard goodbye in Middle Earth is to kiss your friend's forehead, the standard emotional response of hobbits to external stimuli is to weep while the soundtrack drops out and music swells, and I learned that you're not allowed to be in movies unless you have really blue eyes. I learned that there are no black people in Middle Earth, which is too bad for the people of Middle Earth, not least because music is sure going to suck for a few ages. Something tells me no lily-white hobbit is going to invent the blues. There are also no latinos or asians, so there's a good chance that there is no good dancing or Buddhism. I also learned that Peter Jackson is a better film-maker than George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, and just about anybody who makes popular entertainment. Just because the movies didn't fuck me up personally doesn't mean that they don't lay to waste all other big budget fantastic crap that Hollywood has ever churned out. Pete (or Derek, or Captain Bad-Taste if you wish), is in control of his skills like George could never be or have been, and it's no coincidence that two Spielberg child-actor discoveries and one Indiana Jones buddy are among Jackson's main cast (in fact, the chick who played Ilsa in The Last Crusade was originally cast as Eowyn, before her pregnancy led her to drop out and they got Ozzie gal Miranda Otto). On the basis of Lord of the Rings, I feel that Spielberg, Cameron, Lucas and just about everybody who pioneered CGI and is known for A-list entertainment should sign a big plaque that reads "Peter Jackson is better than me. I am a scum-sucking hog who loves to molest newborn farm animals." But Peter also deserves some kind of bronze statue for, if nothing else, making three of the biggest movies of all time with his wife and all his friends, ensuring the employment of inumerable New Zealand computer programmers, and giving hope to us all: if you are a decent bloke with enough determination, you too can one day spend five years to make a gory film about aliens on a shoestring budget. And then maybe one day after that, you'll make the biggest movies ever. I look forward to Pete's next flick. It would be nice if it was Bad Taste Part 2. But in a way, that's it. I have become so burned out on looking forward to Return of the King... do I really have any other films to look forward to? Ever? Fun Fact: I may be too old. If I had been a little younger, a little stupider, who knows? Am I to a point where movies don't knock me out emotionally anymore? I criticize everything, don't I? Ever flicky that comes down the pike, I pick at. Even my cinematic pleasures are becoming as routine as an old man falling asleep in his recliner. The Coen Brothers are awesome, sure, but we all have to admit that they've created their own formula that they now adhere to. Stanley Kubrick is dead and Scorsese's last flick felt dragged out in the second half. Is it all too telling that my own personal best-loved movies from this year (American Splendor, Bad Santa) were about anti-social misanthropes? And everything that "should" blow me away ultimately doesn't. Requiem For A Dream, Amelie, Kill Bill... I always nit-pick, I always analyze... is it me? Is Bad Santa a blip on an otherwise steady downward trajectory? Am I too cynical, too jaded, too bitter? Am I beyond the point where I can just sit back and be taken away by this medium that I love? Will anybody ever again make a film that will truly knock me on my ass? Anything is possible. Don't forget to tell Broken Lizard how to get in touch with us. |