Revival

I will be resurrecting this. In what capacity I am unsure. Possibly do a movie of the week thing. I've watched too many. By the time I finish counting down my list it will have changed. So I'm going to re-do it and post my top 200 alphabetically. Just to give you a list of flicks to watch.

#168: Halloween

Halloween (1978)
Directed by John Carpenter
Written by John Carpenter and Debra Hill
Starring Jamie Lee Curtis, Donald Pleasance and the best slasher killer in the history of slasher films!


When I was a kid I dressed up as a different ninja turtle for halloween three years in a row. Only Donatello never figured into the equation for whatever reason. After my run of portraying mutan turtles turned stale, I did what many a young child did. I became a vampire.

It was sweet. I had a cape, I greased my hair into a pseudo-widow's peak and put some uncomfortable plastic fangs in my mouth and fake blood ran down from the corners of my mouth.

As a kid, I had a love-hate relationship with horror movies and scary stories in general. I would get horror books from the library at school and scare myself senseless in the dark of night. Nightmares were plentiful. Anyone who says the boogeyman can't get you has either forgotten or has never had a bad dream.

Unsolved Mysteries is a pretty lame show in retrospect but when I was 10, it was eerie and creepy. Anything to do with alien abductions and I'd be there to squirm my way through it. It seems masochistic but there is a certain exhiliration and pleasure that comes from being scared or seeing something shocking and unbelievable. If you get to the point where you're vocally trying to convince yourself that it's not real...well you're hooked.

Halloween is the greatest of all childhood holidays. We looked forward to it every year because it's the only day where the scary monsters lose their shadowy mystique and become part of the norm. We as children -- and as adults, who am I kidding? -- entered the world of the darkness for but a night. As a vampire or a werewolf we embraced the horror.

There always is an air of safety surrounding Halloween. So for John Carpenter to make a movie about October 31 where the horror is real and not just make believe he created a new level in the genre. A lumbering, escaped mental patient in a William Shatner mask wielding a knife trying to exact revenge on those who did him wrong on halloween of all days. It packs a punch.

It paved the way for the Friday the 13th movies -- which paved the way for Sleepaway Camp and others -- but it wasn't as campy (sorry about that one). Halloween is still the most effective slasher film maybe because of the double reversal within the holiday from horror to safety and back again or maybe because John Carpenter knows horror better than any other filmmaker.

Halloween is still an annual treasure for my friends and I, although sometimes my creativity takes a backseat to procrastination. The last two years I've worn a suit and attached some accessory to that suit in order to call it a costume.

In 2007 it was a briefcase. Arlo was the devil and I was his attorney.

In 2008 I wrapped a noose around my neck. I was an investment banker. I stole that idea from Traer a few years earlier when he was an Enron executive.

One of these years I'll be more elaborate with my costume. We should all channel that fear and exhiliration at least once a year anyway.

#170: Dawn of the Dead

Dawn of the Dead (1978 & 2004)
Written and directed by George A. Romero (78)
2004 edition directed by Zack Snyder
Starring zombies


Purists will hate me. As you can plainly see, both Dawns are mentioned and this will piss off a lot of hardcore zombie movie fans. Thankfully for me, no one reads this except people that barely care and don't let trivial things like remakes of a movie ruin their day.

Remakes are a maligned creature and I can understand that to a degree. It's a proponent of the lack of creativity in Hollywood. Why think of a new and original idea when you can remake one from the past and cash in on its name?

Some people think this is a new phenomenon. A few years ago The Ring came out with Naomi Watts. It was a North American rendition of a popular Japanese horror flick called Ringu. Since then the USA has imported several from the terrible The Eye to improving over the original with Scorsese's The Departed (was Infernal Affairs).

This is not new.

Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai was released in 1954 and then remade in the States as The Magnificent Seven in 1960. The Magnificent Seven is one of the most recognizable titles in the western genre. Sergio Leone's Fistful of Dollars was also a remake of a Kurosawa film called Yojimbo. Cue the 1990's and Bruce Willis' Last Man Standing and you have a remake of a remake.

Kurosawa though adapted a couple of Shakespeare's plays into loose translations into a samurai motif. Throne of Blood (Macbeth) and Ran (King Lear) were essentially remakes but of plays instead of other movies. Is there any difference between an adaptation and a remake?

If no then the remake trend is certainly nothing new and you could argue Hollywood and cinema in general has never been very original and I wouldn't exactly dispute this.

Consider the following films: There Will Be Blood, No Country for Old Men, Zodiac, All the President's Men, L.A. Confidential, Goodfellas, The Godfather, and The Shawshank Redemption.

Each of those movies appeared in the printed medium first. And each of those movies are more or less celebrated. Even this year's best picture darling Slumdog Millionaire is based on a novel. Oh and captain fanboy, your beloved Star Wars? Yeah, Lucas was heavily influenced by none other than Akira Kurosawa. Lucas borrowed heavily from Hidden Fortress so there you have it.

The Dawn of the Dead's are so vastly different, and really the only similarity is they feature groups of people stuck in a mall fending off zombies. They both have the anti-consumerism message. Some have argued that it's more subdued and subtle in the original and I disagree. It's pretty obvious through the entire movie. The biggest difference is in the action.

The 70s version focuses more on character interaction while the remake is all about creating anxiety and tension with as many quick scares as possible. The zombies run and I have no problem with that.

Both films are fantastic in their own way. And even if you hate the remake as a whole I can't see how you can dislike the opening sequence and overall set up unless you just hate horror movies in general.

A lot of remakes are trash but so are the originals. Anyone who complains about the new Friday the 13th sullying the originals is on some crazy drugs. The originals hold no real integrity, for proof just watch part 8 again. Jason takes Manhattan is the worst horror movie I've ever watched and I saw Hellraiser: Bloodline.

It's infuriating to read message boards where movie fans bitch and complain about the lack of originality in the film industry. It's not a new thing and it will always be like this. Like any movie, watch it before you judge it and if it still doesn't cut the mustard well move on to the next movie. A remake isn't inherently a bad thing and remember a new idea committed to celluloid is not inherently a good one either.

#171: Army of Darkness

Army of Darkness (1992)
Written and directed by Sam Raimi
Starring Bruce Campbell, Embeth Davidtz, Bruce Campbell, boomstick.


Okay, one more for the road.

If you haven't read Bruce Campbell's book If Chins Could Kill do yourself a favour and pick it up. It's a funny book above all else and if you haven't already fallen victim to the great chin's persona, you will after reading it.

The first couple entries of the Evil Dead series are closer to straight up horror than anything. The second one -- and probably the most balanced -- mixes horror with wit and slapstick very well. In the third, this one, it's pretty much a full-blown comedy. Raimi and company must have realized how ridiculous this plot was and decided to play it for laughs instead of scares.

The beauty of that decision is that Campbell was given the opportunity to really shine as the smart ass who has had enough. He's a buffoon but is given the task of leading a military outfit in ancient times against armies of the dead.

"Clatto Verata N... Necktie... Neckturn... Nickel... It's an "N" word, it's definitely an "N" word! Clatto... Verata... N- "

He's such an imbecile that he basically ruins it for everyone before using his trusty high school chemistry book to learn how to make gunpowder for his shotgun and a metal hand so he doesn't have to wear a chainsaw constantly.

My friend Arlo hated this movie because of how unrealistic it was. He has since recanted his distaste for it but I don't entirely believe him. I suspect he says this so I don't berate him about it.

Seriously, this is a movie about a guy who travels back in time to become a slave and defeat a bunch of pseudo-zombies. This guy worked in a department store. Those are his credentials. If you try to take this movie seriously you are not going to like it. Shut off your mind and laugh along with the people who made it because you can tell they weren't trying to win awards. They were in it to have a good time and you gotta respect them for that.

Sure Raimi went on to direct the Spider-Man series and has built a relatively respectable resume. Campbell remains in obscurity for the most part. Some people out there would recognize him only as the sleazy guy from those Old Spice commercials. While amusing, they don't really showcase his greatness.

Movies like this and Bubba Ho-Tep where he plays a geriatric Elvis in an old age home fighting a Mummy with a penchant for cowboy attire may be silly but they are entertaining and endlessly re-watchable. He's got a wonderful screen presence and it's amazing that he never broke through into the mainstream. Sure he was on Xena and he had his own show in that vein Jack of All Trades, but he is barely on the periphery of Hollywood.

Two of my favourite performances he gave were as guest spots in Homicide: Life on the Street and The X-Files. In the former he plays a cop who takes matters into his own hands when the law doesn't work to his favour. It's a two-parter aptly called Justice.

In the latter he's a demon burying his newborn children in his back yard. To give any more detail would be huge spoilers. It's in the sixth season and I suggest you check it out. Incidentally, Campbell was considered as Duchovny's successor in season 8 but the part of John Doggett eventually went to Robert Patrick (T-1000) instead possibly due to Campbell's memorable appearance a couple seasons earlier.

Army of Darkness is a fine flick. It's a perfect matinee or midnight movie. I think I've seen it more at midnight in theatres than I have at home. No matter where I see midnight movies advertised, this is always in the circulation. It's well worth it and it's always packed.

A few years ago, a girl I knew was throwing a costume party based on heroes. It was short notice or I put it off to the last second, either scenario is plausible. My roommate at the time had a plastic toy chainsaw and my friend DP had a toy shotgun. I put two and two together, gelled my hair and donned a blue shirt, jeans and work boots. It wasn't spot on, but it was pretty good for two hours of work.

Judge for yourself:
The movie is a crowd pleaser. You can't go wrong by showing to any group of people unless they're scientifically oriented like ole Arlo. Suspension of disbelief is not a dirty concept. Some movies are meant to be true-to-life experiences. This one is pure unabashed escapist fun.

It's also one of the most quotable movies ever. That sounds like hyperbole, but man it's up there.

#172: Election

Election (1999)
Written and directed by Alexander Payne
Based on the novel by Tom Perrotta
Starring Reese Witherspoon, Matthew Broderick, Chris Klein and terrifying high school memories.

High school for some reason has garnered the reputation as being the best part of our lives. If that's true then we should all commit mass suicide now. If it doesn't get any better than the rumour-filled, status-oriented, filtered information session of secondary education then the world is a much worse place than imaginable.

For some high school is legendary. Hanging championship sports banners or performing in a musical or play are cathartic experiences. But en masse, high school is training wheels for life, or at least it should be. High School is not inherently better or worse than any other part of life, it just is a part of life.

High school politics though serve very little purpose. When elected to student council you aren't given any real responsibility just the image that you do. You see, when you get chosen to lead your fellow students it's nothing more than a status symbol.

In the tenth grade I ran for the position of second vice president. Yeah, that actually existed. Every grade had to be represented in the student council, except the freshmen. A friend of mine was running unopposed until I decided on a whim to have a go at it. My platform was to bring paper towels back to the bathrooms instead of those awful blow-dryers that do not dry your hands at all.

I won, not sure why, but I won. My promise went unfulfilled and the meetings were boring as hell. The VP2 didn't actually do anything except attend a weekly noon-hour meeting. Since I didn't want to resign -- I am far too stubborn for that -- I beat the system.

During these dreadful meetings where my position was to sit there quietly and not disrupt the proceedings I read the charter of the school government. What I discovered allowed me to keep my position and only occasionally attend the meetings where all I did was occupy space in a chair.

The charter stated that you could only be removed from your position if you missed three consecutive meetings. Since the Clinton scandal was in full swing at the time, it would have been embarrassing to be impeached for anything less than fellatio. Considering our faculty advisor, this was not exactly a pleasing option. She likely would have feasted on my soul instead. Instead I would skip two meetings and attend the third. This infuriated the advisor and my soul shrank deep within my person out of a great and rational fear of consumption. Bravely I pointed out the loophole and she could do nothing more.

This rule has likely changed and if there's any justice in this world, the amendment would be named after me.

We didn't have a Tracy Flick at our helm. No one really cared because there was nothing at stake. There were no real real responsibilities. It's just another effort at sheltering the youth before letting them figure out all the troublesome things on their own once they go to university. For years, university was peddled without even any coaching about why. Just go to the U of your choice and you'll figure it out. Great advice. Because our hopes and dreams are of no real substance supposedly.

No, this is not a rant against teachers. They have a thankless position for the most part and much of what they try to do is greeted with apathy and sometimes hostility. How can we expand the youthful minds if books like Catcher in the Rye and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest are banned or requested to be banned? The whole protectionist attitude when it comes to our children does more harm than good. It's time someone actually thought of the children instead of shouting "won't someone think of the children"?

Give kids responsibility. Give them a voice. Sure, they'll screw up but that's the point. Failure is not the end of the world, and in many ways it's very beneficial.

I just realized I merely speculated for the most part here. I grew up in the system and only now recognize the flaws I encountered. So if it's a bit disorganized and lacking references then I think that kind of proves my point in a way...

#173: F for Fake

F For Fake (1974)
Written and directed by Orson Welles
Starring Orson Welles and abundant mind-fuckery

"Illusion Michael! A trick is something a whore does for money...or cocaine."


Guys like David Blaine and that hair metal wannabe Criss Angel have it wrong. Magicians or illusionists need a little more charisma than the rock of Gibraltar, though what a charming rock it was. They are forcibly serious and always have a look of smug constipation on their faces. Who cares if they fool you? They're dicks.

Okay, so Orson Welles seems like a codger. A fat, bloated, drunken coot of a man whose final screen credits included the voice of Unicron in the Transformers movie. But he was responsible for one of the biggest and most successful illusions of all time.

Imagine a time when radio was the pinnacle of home entertainment. One day you're minding your own business and you've never even heard of H.G. Wells (no relation) before. Then a report comes flying in saying the world is being attacked by invaders from another planet. Hoo boy, yeah, that happened. He adapted War of the Worlds to the radio in a much more effective manner than Spielberg did to film. Spielberg is a master of cinema, but that movie was awful.

F for Fake was the last film Welles directed. It's a pseudo-documentary about liars and the lies they tell. Within the film, one of the subjects he tackles is a complete lie itself. So even the documentary is shrouded in mystery and intrigue. It's absorbing.

Never before this film had I heard of Elmyr de Hory, a Hungarian born art forger. It's said in the film that at any given time in some of the most prestigious art galleries in the world, his forgeries -- many of which were Picasso reproductions -- were on display instead of the original. He would don a disguise and an alias to peddle his forgery, selling it to the gallery for a dishonest buck.

The sad part is he was never able to make it as an original artist despite attempting to quit the forgery racket to make an honest living. These attempts were unsuccessful.

Clifford Irving, another liar of a different colour, wrote a biography on Hory. Funny because his fakery centered on the biography he wrote on Howard Hughes...except the billionaire never spoke with him. This was chronicled in the film The Hoax with Richard Gere.

Welles plays with the smoke and mirrors and asks the audience to reflect about what it has witnessed. Do you believe everything you're told? Do you believe everything you see? How trusting are you that the truth is being presented at all times?

The most ballsy thing Welles did was admit that he was lying to the audience. This movie is an illusion masked as a documentary as much as it is a documentary about illusion. It's a head scratcher and probably my favourite work in Welles' directorial catalogue. Even moreso than Citizen Kane.

Ordered it over a year ago. The premise was intriguing even though at first I thought it was a work of fiction told in modern abstract style. When the documentary aspect was revealed the further I read on it, I knew it had to be mine.

Watched it for the first time with good ole Arlo at his parents' place on a cold December afternoon. Despite the lack of alcohol or other mind-altering substances this was the type of film that makes the room spin into surreality. When the smoke clears, what was real and what was fake? Is the film itself a forgery?

Check it out for yourself. Revealing the mystery to be another mystery is half the fun.

Folly at a midnight movie

At the midnight showing of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas last night in Fredericton, embarrassment seemed inevitable. Obviously, like most others in attendance, I was a bit shy from interaction unlike my normal self and this played into my brief and slightly humourous downfall.

95.7 FM employs bastards. They organized this wonderful event and invited 10 people from the packed crowd to stand at the front like a firing squad execution to answer trivia questions about the film. I was the final contestant on the stage after much prodding from Horatio, Veda, et al.

However they asked each of us randomly after appearing to start chronologically from left to right. Imagine the stress of knowing the death blow is imminent but it could strike all around you first. This was the trivia - and mind altered - equivalent.

Question 1: Who directed the film?

Easy answer. Terry Gilliam. The contestant didn't know and was given a consolation prize.

Question 2: What hotel was the police convention at?

Little trickier. But I knew it was the Flamingo. Contestant numero dos also swung and missed and got sent packing.

The woman from 95.7 FM looked down the row at me and said "it's looking pretty good for you on the end now isn't it?"

Being the idiot that I am I decided to wade in this great fortune by smiling and giving her the thumbs up. Had I stood still, ignored her attention perhaps they would have continued along the beaten path. But no, instead I got cocky.

So the big bald bastard she works with got the idea, and it was clear in his eyes that his intentions were to eliminate me swiftly. He wanted to wipe the smug look off my face. It was as though he were thinking "oh so you think you know Fear and Loathing huh? You gonzo wannabe hack? Well you get question number 3 then since you think you're so good."

Question 3: What kind of dessert does Dr. Gonzo order at the diner?

Shit.

"Oh man," I said.

"Oh man," the bald bastard replied in a mocking tone.

After an asinine back and forth where I felt like a lobotomy patient being encouraged by equally stupid individuals, I said "pie."

"Yes, but what kind of pie?"

Fucker.

"Um, banana cream?"

"Oh so sorry," he said. He wasn't.

It was lemon pie...lemon. The smug Mr. Clean with tats handed me a card from Jumbo video promising a free rental with a paid rental. Great. An offer to save money if only I actively spend some first. That makes sense.

Question 4: Who wrote the book?

Somehow, the person on stage didn't know and received a resounding chorus of boos. She deserved it. It's not a bad thing to go see the movie in theatres if you have never heard of Thompson, that's fine. But why take part in a trivia contest about Fear and Loathing if you have no proper frame of reference to what the hell is going on? That person probably would have said lemon...

Semi-joking, I started complaining about the coupon Butterbean gave me when I said "yeah, and it's only good until...six days ago." They gave me an expired coupon.

"Why not just punch you in the stomach?" Isaac said.

I'll have my revenge on this one. The hosts from the radio station said next month they'd be showing Ghostbusters on March 20*. First of all, next month is February so there's that. Second, I know Ghostbusters like the back of my hand. I'm going to step up to the plate and show Stay Puft who to call when it comes to film trivia...

...lame? Yes. Somewhat pathetic? Sure. But hey, pride is a silly thing in general anyway.

*Horatio has updated me on the status of the next midnight movie. Apparently, they did intend to say February 20. It is next month and good old Faustus and I are going to be somewhere between Tennessee and Pennsylvania on our return trip. You've cornered me again world!

#174: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas (1998)
Written and Directed by Terry Gilliam
Based on the book by Hunter S. Thompson
Starring Johnny Depp, Benicio Del Toro, Christina Ricci, Gary Busey, Tobey Maguire, a trunk full of narcotics.

As a student journalist it's no surprise that I am a follower and fan of Hunter S. Thompson. His fame is almost stereotypical among twenty-somethings who have a vested interest in writing, especially journalism. He represents the ideals of both creativity and telling a true-to-life story. His work is also very self-indulgent by traditional journalistic standards but that's the point. Dr. Gonzo and his specific brand of writing (GONZO!) ignores tradition and no one has or ever will do it better.

Even if the good doctor hadn't blown his brain out with a shotgun, he wouldn't be the same guy or writer as he was in the past. In fact, his columns for Page 2 on ESPN -- while amusing -- didn't quite meet the standards of his old writing.

I don't want to be an elitist. I hate it when fans of a musician or a director or a writer arbitrarily dismiss new material. The line "I liked [insert artist name here] before he/she/they were famous" is the most arrogant and self-serving line that can be uttered, especially because it is rarely followed up with any concrete argument. I was never a fan of Sugar Ray, but I'll tell you one thing, the song Fly prevented them from ever being respectable. Every single they released from there on out was exactly the same light and fluffy style. Considering Sugar Ray started with songs like Mean Machine, this change makes sense when you don't like how they progressed. Back up your arguments.

Thompson's downfall in his writing isn't as easily pinpointed and I don't even really dislike his Hey Rube columns. I discovered Thompson after his glory years because I wasn't exactly alive when he was pounding back every drug known to man. Like Mr. Lahey was the liquor, Thompson was the drugs (oversimplified...well aware).

No, I'm not a historian of his legacy and I haven't read all his work but I recognize what he represents in the world of journalism and in a way he has hurt it as well as helped. He is a cartoon character as characterized in Gilliam's film. He was a drug-addled freak who could have paved the way for a new style of writing. Instead, anyone who tries to write a stream of consciousness style is dubbed a Hunter Thompson wannabe.

Especially in school.

STU has taught us the fundamentals of writing for a newspaper. From writing leads to nut-graphs to pyramid style, etc. we have learned it. One thing the school never encouraged and likely never will is breaking convention. Or if we tried to break convention our professors cringed or started to tell us to try to write the story by the formula we had been trained with. Creativity has very little place in the news medium, or so our professors would have us believe.

But what gets attention? What is praised? Take a look at This American Life from NPR. These stories are long format, one per hour-long episode in fact. Compare that with a network newscast where every story is around the standard length of two minutes or less and you have differences. Sure, most people have wavering attention spans but the more time you have to tell a story the more in depth you can go with it.

Hunter S. Thompson wasn't quite the print equivalent to This American Life but he wasn't a run of the mill reporter either. He broke boundaries, supposedly but how many journalists have applied his style?

Robin Esrock writes a column called Gonzo Travel for Brave New Traveler. It's pretty decent especially if you like reading about adventure. It's not quite the same and I think using the word gonzo in the title is a cheap contrivance to draw in Hunter Thompson enthusiasts. But hey, you gotta do what you gotta do to bring in readers, so I don't really hold that against him. (His website is called modern gonzo as well...so hey, he loves HST as well. Glad the legacy didn't go to waste)

Stream of consciousness journalism is definitely a valid form of reporting but it can't be called gonzo if it's going to exist in mainstream publications (which it likely won't anyway, so it may be silly to even throw this out there). The connotations with prolific drug use and the word gonzo prevents it from being taken seriously.

And whether you agree with recreational drug use or you abhor it, Hunter S. Thompson told some amazing stories and wrote with a tenacity and enthusiasm that isn't present in the world of journalism today. Now that is something we do need more of. Stop trying to fit the mould and write the way that feels right to you. It will only help the global journalistic community.

If anyone has a link to an archive of all his work that would be great. Also if you have examples of writers that do take the unconventional approach and do it well...let me know, I would greatly appreciate it.

* Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is playing in Fredericton, NB at Empire Theatres on Friday January 23 at midnight.
** I recommend the following: The Rum Diary, Great Shark Hunt, Screwjack and Hell's Angels.

#175: Say Anything...

Say Anything... (1989)
Written and directed by Cameron Crowe
Starring John Cusack, Ione Skye, John Mahoney, Lili Taylor


John Cusack is the man. This is an indisputable fact. He is a legend in 80's culture and not only from Cameron Crowe's directorial debut either. Sure, his Lloyd Dobler singlehandedly made every woman under 30 swoon in 1989 -- and most men too, though most won't admit it. He continued through the 90s and while his awesomeness has somewhat cooled in the last couple years, don't be surprised if Cusack happened to rebound.

While he had already developed a reputation from films like Better Off Dead, The Sure Thing and Eight Men Out it was Say Anything that cemented his status as not only a hearthrob but something more than a one-dimensional character in a film. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him and whatever other cliche about lust and envy you can think of. Lloyd Dobler was a unique character.

Dobler represents the best and worst of us at all times. He's a hopeless romantic and he breaks convention -- kickboxing is his biggest ambition -- and yet he's a bit too much at times. Why he works so well is because he isn't perfect, he's trying to find his way just as we all are both romantically and in our own individual life's purpose. He's almost like Ferris Bueller only less cartoony and less Broderick.

I didn't grow up in the 1980's so my hyperbole about the Dobler effect stems mostly from contact with women in more recent years. It's a popular choice of a film among the circle of female friends I have obtained in solely platonic fashion over the years. Like Dobler, I have a vague idea of what I want to accomplish in life but I can't quite figure it out 100 per cent.

"I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that. "

Admirable, but what does that really say? Is it a stance against capitalism in general or is it just the infantile musings of an immature and naive man? My own opinion changes by the day. Some days I don't think pursuing any kind of career is in my best interest. Who wants to be bogged down to do one thing every day or every week for the rest of his or her days? Obviously there are few days where every day is exactly the same but the mundane nature of office work isn't my cup of tea. In a sea of bureaucratic jobs, this way of thinking limits one in terms of financial stability.

My friend CT says he has seen the light. He has done the anti-establishment thing for years. He grew the mohawk, spiked it in the air, wore torn clothes and wrapped a dog collar around his neck. He was what many would refer to as a freak, he broke the mold.

Now he wants to sell out. His words, not mine.

In his point of view, the life he's led hasn't been the most comfortable. Living from paycheck to paycheck and taking the jobs that will hire someone who would scare most everyone above the age of 40 not named Iggy Pop just got tiring.

He hasn't quite discovered where he wants to go, but he knows he doesn't want to be broke for the rest of his life and compromise seems to be his only choice. But at the same time his goal and my own is vague, just like Dobler's.

I don't need the biggest television possible and I don't need a fancy car. I don't need a big house or a house of any kind. All I need is a method to pay for food, pay off my student loan debt and have fun with my friends. That shouldn't be too much to ask.

Sadly, most jobs starting out of university don't exactly light up the old bank account. I'd be shocked if any journalist fresh out of university is making any more than $15/hour. That might seem like a lot, but it would be difficult to pay off debt, eat properly and still have a social life on those wages while paying rent. I don't know about most of you but living with my parents until I'm 30 is not an option.

So as a journalist I might be forced to either freelance or take an internship to work my way up in the writing world. I understand climbing the ladder but starving yourself to do that is unreasonable. You likely have to work a second job and even then it might not be enough.

No, money doesn't buy happiness but it's not quite the root of all evil either. Falling in love would be wonderful and so would having enough money to live happily ever after. To cap it all off is it all that selfish to want to like what I end up doing to make ends meet? Is that just too much of a pipe dream? I sure hope not.

I might have no choice but to sell out...problem is, like the affable Lloyd Dobler and my friend CT I have no idea who to sell out to.

#176: Thank You For Smoking

Thank You For Smoking (2005)
Directed and Written by Jason Reitman
Based on the novel by Christopher Buckley
Starring Aaron Eckhart, Maria Bello, David Koechner, Cameron Bright, William H. Macy, J.K. Simmons, Rob Lowe, Katie Holmes, Sam Elliott, Adam Brody and Robert Duvall.

It has been four weeks since my last cigarette. My quitting expedition has so far been a resounding success. Does that mean I no longer want the taste and feeling only a death-dart can achieve? Not at all...in fact I want one every day and most hours and minutes of those days.

You can call it addiction if you want, though I would never label it as such. Smokers don't only smoke because of an inherent need to fill their lungs with tar and a darkness that eats at the very core of their beings. No, smokers tend to enjoy smoking...believe it or not.

Why?

Cigarettes are murderers. They are in no way good for you and can be of no conceivable benefit in the health and well-being of your person. It's easy for non-smokers or former smokers to spout that rhetoric...and well it's true. Smoking does not improve your lifestyle or your breathing. It eats away at your wallet worse than your lungs and in most public places you turn into an outcast.

Smoking, while unhealthy, gave me an outlet...a common connection with other people of the same ilk. Working at the paper this past summer, whenever a bulk of us needed to get away from the office without leaving the work premises, CC and I would just bolt out the back door, light up a couple nails and commiserate about the day or talk about golfing or poker.

Anyone who says smoking is good for you is an idiot...but no one would say that. Non-smokers though seem to think that smokers have no idea about the risks involved in smoking. Far from it. Most every smoker I have come into contact with has alluded to the fact that he or she needs to quit. It doesn't mean that person will, but to think smokers somehow missed the life lesson that sucking a dark cloud of poison into your lungs is bad for you...well come on. Uppity non-smokers need to pull their heads out of their asses.

What I've discovered is that harrassing smokers to quit will not accomplish a thing. Usually when someone tells a smoker they should quit, it comes across as some kind of sanctimonious sermon. Self-inflicted death may be the price smokers pay, let them do it to themselves peacefully without any further pain. If someone is going to quit, he will likely do it on his own terms...unless money is involved.

Thank You For Smoking has an anti-smoking message but it's clever and not a morally self-righteous lecture on the perils of tobacco. In the end smoking is a choice, one that should be accepted in places where lighting up is still allowed. Like it or hate it, smokers are one dedicated lot because who else would step outside in 30-below temperature by choice for seemingly no good reason?

I like smoking, it's a fact. In August, when Horatio, Veda, Arlo and I travelled to Montreal to see Radiohead, I had been off the cigarettes for a week or so...a pretty big accomplishment. For the trip, I bought a pack of du maurier's and hit the highway smoking one after another until I had finished the pack by the time we hit the city. I bought another and I stayed with a friend who smoked like a chimney. It was fun. Smoking while driving takes the edge off and if you're driving an automatic transmission it makes the drive a little less boring and gives you something to multi-task with. Somehow I've never caused an accident.

But I do feel better since I've quit. Come May, when the bet is through and I've proven to myself and others that it can be done I may spitefully buy a pack of some cheap cigs and smoke all night. That or I may never smoke again...or maybe from time to time...who knows really? It's a habit, but unlike some people would have you believe it's not evil and it's not the end of the world if your 16-year old has a smoke. Most likely, we know the risks just as much. Does that make smokers stupid? Maybe...or maybe we're just stubborn.


* Sorry for no embedded links today...lazy and kind of busy...no just lazy
**Juno was weak. This was a better film from Reitman

#177: The Elephant Man

The Elephant Man (1980)
Directed by David Lynch
Screenplay by Christopher De Vore, Eric Bergren & David Lynch
Based on the books by Sir Frederick Treves & Ashley Montagu
Starring Anthony Hopkins, John Hurt, Anne Bancroft and John Gielgud


If you have never felt like an outcast, you've either lived a life of privilege beyond anyone's expectations or you were too stupid to realize that things weren't always hunky-dory. In Lynch's The Elephant Man it takes the idea to the extreme physical nature of being an outcast, which makes it easier for the viewer to understand why Merrick was treated as a circus sideshow. It doesn't make it right, but because he looked so different...deformed even, his status as an outsider was sadly more believable.

In early grade school, I lived in Saint John and then Fredericton. After the fifth grade I moved to the town where I was raised through kindergarten, Woodstock (all in New Brunswick by the way). I had a lot of friends in those early days, was affable and kind and generally popular. In fact the only time there was any real rift at all was in the fourth grade when I had taken a baseball bat to school one day and accidentally hit a classmate upside the head. Needless to say, I was banned from bringing the bat back.

Returning to a place of familiarity didn't seem like a daunting task, but it was soon apparent that it wasn't a cake walk either. Shyness was never a weakness of mine, but in the sixth grade it slowly crept into my worldview. The kids were not as accepting or welcoming as I was hoping. By this time, they had their cliques and friends all locked down and had no room for a guy like me. I guess I was a sensitive child as I did end up crying once or twice due to peer criticism. It was a shock to me, how was I any different? Why was I being treated like an alien?

This isn't to say the entire school shunned me, no, I made some friends but nothing substantial. Joey was the best friend I made at the time and he was treated worse than I was. He wore jogging pants and was subjected to name-calling and taunting from classmates. If I remember correctly, the insult of choice was "grub" to indicate a child of poverty.

After the sixth grade and a few weeks before summer vacation ended I received a phone call from someone at the Woodstock Middle School where I was enrolling that fall. I had signed on for the french immersion program and it was apparently full. I had been in french immersion before and they offered to skip me a grade.

This didn't help my popularity with the classmates from a year earlier. And I wasn't exactly propelled into stardom in the eighth grade either. It was an adjustment but not entirely a bad one. Luckily I met Arlo at this time. A story we've told many times when people ask is summed up like this: I brought supplies for a project and he didn't. He mooched off me and a friendship was born. I consider him my closest friend more than a decade later.

High School was better but there was still a sense of criticism from people that didn't make any sense. Obviously every student goes through that and some say the ones dishing out the pain are the least secure with themselves of all students. The point is, this rejection from my peers helped me in the long run and it wasn't apparent until the last couple of years. I'm comfortable in my own skin and can make it on my own without the constant company of others. I still seek approval but am not devastated when I don't get it.

Merrick was hideously disfigured but was a human being underneath it all. It's a shame he was treated as such. Even the charity given on to him made him feel marginalized. He didn't want special treatment, he just wanted to be treated like a person of equal value. It is well done and is likely Lynch's most straightforward film (other than The Straight Story) and it has obvious parallel's with adolescence and the pains of growing up under the microscope of your peers.

In any case, I survived and am a better person for it. We're all outcasts, let's not make others feel that way.

#178: Nightmare Before Christmas

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
Directed by Henry Selick
Written by Tim Burton, Michael McDowell and Caroline Thompson
Starring Danny Elfman, Chris Sarandon, Catherine O'Hara and a slew of other voice actors.


Merry Christmas everyone! Okay, so I'm a week early but I'm sure everyone has been cramming full of Christmas movies, music and fruit-themed cookies/cake that you likely want to murder your entire family. It's a pleasant time of year.

Brace yourself for this one folks, I have never seen A Christmas Story and I have been informed of exactly how deprived that makes me. It's the go-to Christmas movie for my cousins. Their family watches it every year or did when they all lived in the same place. My family has its own rituals of staying out of each other's way while secretly wondering why everyone is so pissed off.

I get the gist of it, honestly I do. But it's now at a point where I've heard people building this movie up year after year that it would not live up to the expectations, it's impossible. Most of these people saw it when they were kids too, so they have the whole nostalgia factor working for them. I'd be seeing it for the first time through adult eyes. If I had kids of my own (crosses heart) I may have some benefit from it. As it is, I'd be a cynical twenty-something wondering why it isn't better than it is and I'd be chastised forever for not thinking it's the best Christmas movie out there. So instead of risking the backlash, I'll forever avoid watching it just in case.

That's probably really stupid, but for the most part I am not interested in Christmas any more. Santa Claus doesn't capture me in his mystique any more. In fact if I did awake to some bastard breaking into my house in the middle of the night any time of the year, bad things would happen. And since I went to a liberal arts university, I have developed an anti-materialism sentiment over the past few years. Luckily I haven't been completely poisoned by my peers as I haven't accepted Plato, Aristotle or Dante as my personal lord and saviour. Jesus Christ neither.

Here's the deal. I'm not religious, I don't have money and I don't need to stockpile a bunch of crap I don't need. The only thing that would be really beneficial to me as a gift would be a new camera. As an aspiring writer-at-large, taking your own pictures can really save time and effort. Alas, I know that isn't happening. The next best thing would be an ass load of books. I don't even really care who writes them, I'll read it. But other than that, what the hell do I need people spending money they don't have on things I don't need or even want? If it's the thought that counts then the gifts aren't necessary.

So that's where movies like Nightmare Before Christmas* and Bad Santa come in. They don't force the message of Christmas down your throat. It's there, sure but it has to be or someone will get pissed that the number one shopping (and shopper's death) season was sullied by cynicism. The only sappy Christmas movie that I can stomach** is Christmas Vacation, but the Griswold's are anything but wholesome.

Despite being a sarcastic ass hole in many respects towards people and things I deem as ridiculous, one of the best things about Nightmare Before Christmas is the soundtrack. In high school I was in musicals...yes...musicals, three of them to be exact. I couldn't skate - well I could, but I couldn't stop - and I was short so the sports scene wasn't very welcoming.

In my senior year I finally got a semi-prominent role. We did Jesus Christ Superstar and I starred as Pontius Pilate. On the Friday night show - the third of four - I took the stage with bravado for my first song singing about a dream. So Pilate had a vision in his sleep that Jesus would come and he (Pilate) would end up being responsible for his death.

Midway through the song I've already performed twice - not counting rehearsals over the previous two months - I freeze. My whole family chose to come on Friday for some damn reason and they see their stocky Pilate crash into the side of the stage more or less. The video, which has long since been lost, went in for the close up at the moment of truth. My eyes glazed over as I was obviously trying to find my spot. With the camera still on close-up (bastard cameraman should have gone wide!) I looked down into the front row where the director of the play was watching in horror. I smiled at her and shrugged.

This whole debacle lasted maybe thirty seconds but it felt like an eternity. I found my place, finished the song and stomped backstage cursing up a storm. Thankfully I had the presence of mind to turn the microphone off.

I channeled the rage for the rest of the shows you might say. Two of my closest friends, Arlo and DP played Jesus on alternating nights. I was the only Pilate. For four nights straight I had my best friends/Jesus whipped and crucified. Old ladies looked at me like I was the devil as they left the theater.

After you've killed Jesus four times in a week, Christmas just isn't as special...



* Tim Burton did not direct this movie...please stop saying he did
**The Muppet Christmas Carol is also acceptable

#179: A History of Violence

A History of Violence (2005)
Directed by David Cronenberg
Screenplay by Josh Olson
Based on the graphic novel by John Wagner & Vince Locke
Starring Viggo Mortensen, Maria Bello, Ed Harris, William Hurt.

Two Cronenberg flicks in relatively quick succession, score!

A History of Violence is still probably his most mainstream effort to date even though it has many of the same quirks and deadpan performances seen in most of Cronenberg's catalogue. The kids' performances were jarring but they weren't so bad to deter my overall enjoyment of the film.

It was one of those theatrical releases that you wouldn't have expected when living in Fredericton. The theatre in Fredericton in notorious for not playing independent films of any kind. Even beyond indies, the Coen Brothers were greatly ignored until Intolerable Cruelty (wha?). Fredericton's Empire Theatres didn't get The Big Lebowski, O Brother Where Art Thou? or The Man Who Wasn't There. So you can understand why I was shocked when this one came to town.

So Arlo Newton and I hit up the movies before it drifts off for the six months or so before a DVD release. I'm fine with watching a movie on DVD, but if I have the chance to see it on the big screen I will. Sure, Arlo was keen on it too but if he wasn't that wouldn't have stopped me.

Go to a movie theatre sometime and think about how many people are there all alone. There aren't many are there? I've never understood this. Back in 1997 I went to a birthday party for a friend of mine that ended up going to the movies. Kyle and his other buddies wanted to go see In and Out, otherwise known as Kevin Kline slumming it for a paycheck.

I bailed at the theatre for The Game, David Fincher's pre-Fight Club mindfuck. It was the first time I ever went to the cinema by myself and it wasn't as sad or lonely as I was expecting.

Over the years I've been looked at sideways by many people, mostly women, who find it odd that I go to the movies all by my lonesome. My reasoning is that it isn't exactly a social experience until afterwards. It doesn't work well as a date because there's no interaction except for "putting the moves" on her with the old yawn and swipe. The only differences between watching a movie at home alone and in the theatre alone are the big screen and the fact that other people can see you.

Choosing people to go to the movies with is a tricky process if you actually care about the movie you're going to see. Ask the following questions:

1) Will this person talk or constantly ask questions?
2) Will this person sit still or will he/she disrupt the theatre with antics?
3) Is this person prone to inoportune fits of laughter?
4) Does the type of movie you're planning on seeing fit into his/her realm of understanding or interest?

Believe me, these are important questions. In the end, it's the safest bet to go alone if you really want to absorb the film.

With Arlo, I knew this wasn't a problem. The guy has been my closest friend since the eighth grade and so we know each other better than most people. A couple other people may have gone with us, but Arlo and I really connected with this film.

On the walk out of the theatre we started discussing the idea of violence and whether violent tendencies can be inherited genetically or if we're more a product of the environment surrounding us. Nature versus nurture type of discussion. Also, as is plain from the trailer, Tom (Viggo) has tried to escape his past. We talked about how this could be representative of him trying to break away from what he naturally is, trying to force him to be someone else, someone better.

This brings me to the most important question when finding someone to join you on your theatrical experience: will he/she be willing to actually discuss the film or will he/she focus on only the superficialities instead of diving deeper into the subject matter?

This isn't exactly a deal-breaker and it shouldn't be. But if you find someone willing to go further with the film, it makes the experience that much better. Watching a film is so much more than mindless entertainment, or at least it can be. It's the aftermath that makes watching a movie with others worth it, it's a sense of community.

Of course if you're going to see a Michael Bay movie, all bets are off. Go with the circus, it's going to be two hours of ADHD explosions anyway and there won't be much to talk about afterward. Basically, Bay is the fast food equivalent of filmmakers. While it may be somewhat gratifying at first, by the end you realize you've made a huge mistake.

Conversely, filmmakers like Cronenberg might not be fine dining, but it certainly is an acquired taste. In any case you're likely going to get more out of it than your dirt-variety fast food assembly line. But if you're diet consists completely of McDonald's, that might be all you want and anything else is strange and terrifying. For many reasons this is depressing.

If only Horatio had been part of our lives at that point. He has a man-crush on Viggo Mortensen that dwarfs any man-crush that any heterosexual man I've ever met has ever had.

#181: The Fly

The Fly (1986)
Directed by David Cronenberg
Written by Charles Edward Pogue
Based on the short story by George Langelaan
Starring Jeff Goldblum, Geena Davis, John Getz

Cronenberg is hit and miss. His pseudo-sexual thrillers (Crash) and some of his really early work (Scanners) are pretty awful. Even his adaptation of The Dead Zone is weak. Critics seemed to like it but other than Christopher Walken's performance I don't see what was so good about it.

Cronenberg was able to generate enough buzz though with his early films to get a bigger budget this time around and stars who at the time were up and coming fresh faces. Oh Goldblum where art thou?

No real story around this one when I think of it, it's just a good horror movie that hits all the hyperbolic notes. Who wouldn't want to watch a movie about an obsessed scientist who accidentally mutates into a giant fly-man (man-fly?) when tinkering with his nifty matter transporter? In fact who wouldn't want his own matter transporter? Sure if something as tiny as an insect jumps in with you, you're likely going to suffer some horrible mutation, but that's worth the risk as far as I'm concerned.

It could be different anyway, because this is just a movie. In real life I imagine there would be no awful side-effects, only the bliss of having superpowers should my body mix with the DNA of a fly or spider perhaps.

Okay, it's a pipe dream but super powers regardless of the terrible and inevitable repercussions are a dream to any comic or film geek, guaranteed. See by the time Star Trek is set, science has reached a point of near perfection so the matter transporters don't destroy every particle of your body accidentally. You just have to hope you don't get transported inside a rock.

Now a dream of mine for years and Drew can attest to this is the eventual development of rocket boots and my inevitable acquisition of said rocket boots. Super powers are one thing but what side-effects would rocket boots have? Only one. Greatness.

The technology is not researched or perfected enough and with the use of rocket fuel it's doubtful one would get very far with these boots in the initial prototype. I am ready, willing and able to test rocket boot technology. Any government out there with a rocket boot development program would do themselves a favour by bringing in this strapping young lad and fellow rocket boot enthusiast.

Eagerly I will await my day in (or near...natch!) the sun. Who wants to turn into a fly anyway? Certainly not after seeing poor Brundlefly in action.

#182: True Romance

True Romance (1993)
Directed by Tony Scott
Written by Quentin Tarantino
Starring Christian Slater, Patricia Arquette, Michael Rappaport, Dennis Hopper, Gary Oldman, Christopher Walken, Bronson Pinchot, James Gandolfini, Saul Rubinek, Chris Penn, Tom Sizemore, Samuel L. Jackson

After my parents got me hooked on movies I spent hours on this new fandangled invention called the internet looking up actors I had recognized. Goodfellas put me into the world of Robert De Niro. I had to scoop up everything I could get my hands on from Raging Bull to Taxi Driver (much harder to find at the time than expected) to Heat.

After my friend Jeremiah lent me Pulp Fiction I had to learn more about Quentin Tarantino. Reservoir Dogs came first and then looking at Tarantino's imdb page I saw he had written True Romance. What this film ended up doing above entertainment was broaden my film exposure to a slew of actors I had never seen before. This was before Gandolfini was Tony Soprano and it was just a small role, but his scene in the motel room with Patricia Arquette now seems like a precursor...Soprano training wheels perhaps.

I had seen Gary Oldman in Dracula because to most youngsters, monsters (much like naked women) were awesome. Because of his Drexl Spivey character I discovered one of the most talented and chameleon-like performers that would impress in any role. This guy is one of the best ever.

True Romance is a bloody and vulgar pseudo-action movie but it's more than that. It is a love story and the most unconventional romance you'll ever see. Clarence and Alabama get into drug dealing and murder and drag everyone they meet into the fray in an effort to escape and make it to their own paradise together. They need only each other. So while the execution of the story is somewhat unconventional, the themes at the core are of the oldest ilk imaginable. Melding the traditional with flash-bang modern style (and before Tony Scott got jittery with jump cuts).

It's been a while since I've seen it. The last time came when I was dating a girl -- let's call her Amber -- in Halifax while I was living in Fredericton. It was the first weekend I was spending with her in Halifax. We had started dating after we met one weekend a month earlier when my good friend Amanda introduced us. We hit it off and everything seemed great. We borrowed a copy of True Romance from our mutual friend Adam and that was our Saturday night.

While the relationship ended a month later due in large part to distance and some miscommunication, that night was pretty cool. There is a distinct joy I have when introducing someone to a movie I love. Like my parents showing me Goodfellas and Carlito's Way, I was opening someone's eyes to a new film in their mind's catalogue of viewing.

The weekend was awkward otherwise, it had been a while at that point since my last relationship and well in part due to my awkwardness it didn't go as smootly as hoped. True Romance wasn't the theme for the weekend unfortunately. While it seemed that we were both compatible over our many phone conversations leading up to our first couple days together in person, it wasn't the case when put into practice.

This wouldn't be so bad if we lived in the same city. In some cases, you are either compatible or not, case closed. This was one I thought could be improved over time...she thought otherwise. The end of this story is actually a brain dead moment on my part.

Amber was moving back to Fredericton the following autumn. We had expressed interest in rekindling our brief relationship and we even had a moment when she was visiting one weekend when I pulled her aside and we kissed on her way out of the party for the night.

Fantastic right?

Well it would have been if another ex hadn't recently steamrolled back into my life -- let's call her Claire. In the month following my kiss I had started dating Claire, a girl I had been with a couple years prior, incidentally when she was also living in Halifax with me in Fredericton. We got back together and my next meeting with Amber was really terrible.

"You suck," she said. She said it playfully enough but I realized that any chance of ever being with her again was dashed. I got drunk and it vanquished the feeling for the night...no, it didn't, it made it worse.

Claire and I broke up a week after my birthday and I have been single ever since except for a month this past summer. Sure it's not like that whirlwind was a living hell, it was fun, awkward and by and large a learning process. True romance only exists in the movies, it never comes easy.

Luckily that weekend in Halifax with Amber also started a romance of a different kind. I had bought a bottle of wine that weekend, you know trying to set the mood. A Cabernet Sauvignon called Baron Phillipe de Rothschild.

It's still my go to wine, but it opened my eyes to a world beyond beer. So despite the turmoil of these two failed relationships I came away acquiring a taste for wine. So I got that going for me.

#183: Carlito's Way

Carlito's Way (1993)
Directed by Brian De Palma
Written by David Koepp
Based on the novel by Edwin Torres
Starring Al Pacino, Penelope Ann Miller, Sean Penn, John Leguizamo, Viggo Mortensen, Luis Guzman.

I'm not one to hate on sequels for the sake of hating a sequel. Most movies should be given a chance to be as good or better than its predecessor. Remakes are the same way. A good movie is a good movie.

But sometimes a movie is released that makes absolutely no sense at all. More than a decade after De Palma's crime masterpiece a prequel called Carlito's Way: Rise to Power was released straight to video relying on the drawing power of Puff Daddy.

Who in their right mind would greenlight that idea? Yeah the market is demanding Puffy star in a prequel to a movie barely anyone remembers, yeah, great business sense. It went right to video so it's in movie purgatory anyway so the mystery behind this movie's existence is even more baffling.

Honestly, Carlito's Way is a great film and it's a shame more people haven't heard of it or seen it. All the gangster wannabe's make Scarface their Pacino film of reference and it's terrible. Come on, have you even watched Scarface all the way through? It's painful. It's long and boring with a few over the top catchphrases near the end. Oh and don't forget the mountain of cocaine, that was pretty stellar. And Cuban Pacino doesn't hold a candle to Puerto-Rican Pacino.

Pacino had more to work with in general on Carlito's Way. No, a coked-out Oliver Stone wasn't penning the script but he had a much better supporting cast and a less bloated run-time. Dave Kleinfeld is the reason I don't think Sean Penn is a hack. Well, he's been good but he's done some trash. I Am Sam was a pandering emotional flick about a handicapped Starbucks employee (redunant?) with a lame soundtrack of mediocre Beatles covers.

And Mystic River was not that good, especially his performance. He had no nuance, it held the emotional water of a bad Panic at the Disco song (redundant again?). He was yelling and crying, that's it.

But he hit one out of the park as a sleazy coke-addled attorney. His look was the inspiration for Ken Rosenberg in GTA: Vice City. Coke-heads aren't just a waste of space after all!

I remember watching this for the first time as a teenager. Mom and dad used to rent a bunch of old rentals at Video Stop (now Movie Experts). It's because of this that I was exposed to Goodfellas and other violent movies that most parents wouldn't let their kids watch at the time. My folks understoond the concept of context. They explained to me clearly that just because it was a movie didn't mean I should behave like the monsters portrayed on screen.

"No shit, I'm not an idiot!"

In hindsight I could have used a little more tact when coming up with a response. But my parents, whether they realize it or not are largely responsible for my love of film because of watching $1.00 rentals on the weekends when I was 12 or 13. Because of Goodfellas and Carlito's Way, I watched the Coen Brothers and Kubrick. And even though I could distinguish good storytelling from bad, I was also impressed by Penelope Ann Miller's nude scene. What can I say, for a 13-year-old to see any kind of boobs it's exciting...and awkward in the presence of family.

#184: Night on Earth

Night on Earth (1991)
Written and Directed by Jim Jarmusch
Starring Winona Ryder, Gena Rowlands, Armin Mueller-Stahl, Giancarlo Esposito, Rosie Perez, Isaach De Bankole, Roberto Benigni
Original music by Tom Waits

Jim Jarmusch is an odd duck. A very creative and sometimes off-putting odd duck. I can easily see why his films are not everyone's cup of tea. They don't have a strict narrative in cases like this and Coffee and Cigarettes or they move slowly focusing more on character instead of plot.

Jarmusch is certainly a virtuosic filmmaker. His work is hard to swallow and to this day he has not made a film designed for the popcorn munching crowd. Some could call him elitist or snooty, but his films are undeniably fascinating whether you like them or find them to be pretentious drivel.

Night on Earth was a great experience. Because I was a fan of his more recent work I ordered Night on Earth from the Criterion collection website last summer when I had a job and thought I would have disposable income for a while.

"Why not invest in my film collection?" I asked.

So I ponied up the cash and waited.

Working at the newspaper, I didn't exactly have fixed hours when I had to be working. If nothing is going on or nothing is scheduled we didn't have to be at the office non-stop to save face with management. At the time, the arts scene in Woodstock was one of my main beats. Like any arts scene, what was going on usually happened at night.

My afternoons were filled by reading at Fusion (the local coffee shop where a bunch of live music happens, usually on Saturdays) and watching movies. Night on Earth was a pleasant surprise. It's really five movies taking place in the same night in five different taxis across the globe.

Two in the USA -- LA and New York, so they might as well be different countries -- one in Paris, Rome and Helsinki. The beauty in the film is Jarmusch doesn't just put a jumble of comedic stories together. They're all slices of life but none are quite like the one preceding it.

The best of the five is the Helsinki short. It's tragic and moving without the melodrama that ruins many of the mainstream big budget tear-fests. It works so well because the characters are realistic and earnest and it bookends the lighter fare.

As we delve deeper into the night across the globe as the viewer the subject matter gets deeper and has more weight to it. There is a progression like any night or any week or any lifetime. This film lives and breathes with its characters.

The setting of the taxi cab is particularly effective because we take the role of passenger. I'm sure you've all been in a cab. And since you've been in a cab you've likely had a conversation with a cab driver. I bet it was at least interesting if not a bit disturbing.

In the spirit of the film I will share two quick cabbie stories...neither of which happened while I was in a cab but a cab driver was involved. Both involve my friend Garrett.

A few winters ago I was in Halifax. Garrett and I went to Bayer's Lake for a double feature. I think it was when The Ring came out or something, but that was October 2002, and I'm pretty sure this happened in February 2003. In any case we get out of Bayer's Lake and it's late, close to midnight. We think the buses are done but we see one coming around the corner.

We raced for that sucker and just barely got on and paid the fare. I think he paid the fare for both of us because I had no change on me. One of my worst habits is using my debit card for everything.

The bus took us to two stops and the driver turned around and said "end of the line." The bus had taken us farther away from the end destination of Seymour Street in the city so we were left with a choice, hoof it or cab it. I discovered I had left my gloves in the movie theatre but we decided to walk anyway. I had this irrational fear of cab drivers at the time, don't ask me why.

So we walked through Mount St. Vincent University. The air was deathly calm and the mid February night was chilly but there was no wind. On the bare tree branches surrounding the campus were hugs black clouds. Well, they weren't clouds. The branches were full of crows. I was a bit uneasy when I said "a murder of crows" so we hustled out of there.

After two hours of walking and some getting lost in some shady looking neighbourhoods -- Halifax can be a daunting place late at night -- we finally reached a familiar territory, Quinpool Road. Walking down a side street parallel to Oxford I saw a parked cab with a cabbie sitting in the front seat leaning back. As Garrett and I walked closer we saw a girl's head pop up from the cabbie's lap and she got out of the car and ran into the house it was parked in front of.

I smiled at the driver and gave him the thumbs up. He turned on the car and drove away. Nothing like catching a cabbie collecting payment orally.

The second story is from just over a month ago when I was in Halifax again, this time for my friend Bill's wedding. I agreed to help Garrett take some sound equipment to the hotel where the wedding was being held. Garrett was doing sound and taking care of the music but had no car, so I decided to help him avoid cabs for the day. Yeah, sure.

The street where the hotel is on is narrow. There was a parked cab in front of the hotel and I was coming from the opposite direction. To park legally I would either have to drive around the block and come in the opposite side or do an illegal u-turn in the narrow street. I elected for the u-turn.

I thought if I pulled the nose of my car in behind the cab and backed up we'd have time. I swung nose first in and then the cab started backing up. If I tried to swing out it would have caused a bit of damage to both of us. I honked at the last second and he bumped my fender. I backed out.

Then out out of the cab climbs this 6'6" monster of a man with a scowl to match. He looks at his bumper and looks at me and nods. I roll down my window and ask "we good?" He nodded again and got in his cab and drove away. I drove around the block and came in the opposite side.

In any case, watch Night on Earth and think about interesting encounters you've had with cab drivers. Share them with me if you like.

#185 & 186: The Terminator and Terminator 2: Judgment Day

Directed by James Cameron
Written by James Cameron with Gale Anne Hurd (T1) and William Wisher Jr (T2)
Starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, Linda Hamilton, Michael Biehn, Robert Patrick, Edward Furlong

Basically, I can't decide which Terminator film I prefer. They're completely different styles and one will be more suitable depending on what mood you are in.

Somehow I escaped high school without seeing either one. I remember being in Halifax my first year of university and a few of my friends were talking about Terminator 2. The specifics of the conversation are lost, but they focused their attention on me.

"What did you think" or "remember that, wasn't that awesome?"

I shuffled in my seat a bit, embarrassed that I had never seen either movie.

"Actually I haven't watched it."

No one said anything right away, they looked at each other and I didn't know if they were going to laugh, cry or hit me. Eventually, I think it was Bill who said "well damn, we have to watch it right now."

"Well shouldn't we watch the first one first?"

"You haven't seen that one either?"

I shook my head. What followed was basically me being tied to a chair not allowed to leave until I had seen both movies. It's probably why, despite the differences between the two movies, I consider them to be one. The memory of that night is so strong, not from specifics but from the interactions and the joking friendship that are connected to a night so simple.

All we did was watch a couple of movies and I was accosted at first because they couldn't believe I had gone a full 17 years of life without seeing these movies. From the dank and noir-like part one to the bright and action packed part two, the Terminator movies will always be close to my heart. And despite Titanic, James Cameron is one of the best filmmakers of all time.

All right... Titanic wasn't the worst movie but I still never want to see it again. But give me some Terminator (not the show or part 3) and we'll roll.

(note: a similar showdown happened when this same group of friends found out I had never seen RoboCop. Those movies must be the most watched R-rated movies by kids and somehow I missed out. Probably because I was busy watching gangster movies like The Godfather and Goodfellas. I was a warped child, I had many enthusiasms.)