The House Next Door

Archive: May, 2008

BSG Saturdays: Season 4, Ep. 8, "Sine Qua Non"

By Todd VanDerWerff

After two episodes full of deliberate but pulse-quickening pacing, Battlestar Galactica's latest episode, "Sine Qua Non," written by Michael Taylor and directed by Rod Hardy, feels a little scattered. Part of that's by design (the fleet is thrown into chaos after the sudden disappearance of Roslin, Baltar and a whole Basestar), but some of it just feels like the show trying to cram a bunch of plot points in so it can get back to the basestar and answer the questions everyone has. Battlestar almost never exposes the hands moving its various chess pieces around, but tonight, those hands were too obvious in a few scenes. Still, the last act gave the episode a grandly epic feeling, even pulling back for a rare long shot (albeit, a CGI-enhanced one, but still). In its final season, Battlestar is almost taking on the feel of something romantic and sweeping, even as it remains committed to its vision of following a fleet full of people who are very, very frakked up. Continue Reading »




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Doctor Who: Season 4, Ep. 5, "The Poison Sky"

By Ross Ruediger

In the comments section for "The Sontaran Stratagem," Joan wondered why at the close of the episode "...no one thought to break the window of the car while Gramps was asphyxiating." And so "The Poison Sky" begins with Donna's mother, Sylvia, doing just that. It's a huge anticlimax for the cliffhanger, but I would argue that the whole point of a cliffhanger is in the hang, not in the resolution in the next episode. Cliffhanger resolutions almost by their very nature are destined to suck, because if our heroes succumbed to the disastrous situations they're left in, there would be no more show. We always want the resolve to be as thrilling as the minutes that preceded it in the narrative, but there's a big difference in the first couple minutes of an episode, and the final moments of another. And there's no point in delivering the best you've got at the start, right? Continue Reading »




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Sundance Institute at BAM: Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson

Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson

Terry Gilliam captured slash-and-burn counterculture daredevil Hunter S. Thompson in his first-rate film version of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, but little of the vehement political creature was evident. It's this often overlooked side that makes Alex Gibney's Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson both an absorbing documentary and an apt follow-up to Gibney's Taxi to the Dark Side. Focusing mainly on Thompson's decade of maverick stardom, from 1965 to 1975, the film doesn't starve for anecdotes about mescaline-laced sessions and confrontations with the Hell's Angels, though its heady mix of excess and inquiry doesn't really take off until the reptiles overrunning the Casino Strip go from projections of a substance-lubricated brain to manifestations of journalistic fury. Thompson's legendary coverage of the 1972 presidential campaign is portrayed as his zenith as a gonzo agitator, and not surprisingly, that's where the film finds fresh topicality in the time of Vietnam and Nixon ("How low do you have to stoop in this country to be President," Thompson muses incredulously in archival footage). If Gibney often succumbs to easy period standbys in his recreations of the subject's life—a filmmaker should be fined every time "American Pie" is trotted out for elegiac tugging—he is a lucid interviewer, getting barbed, surprising comments from Pat Buchanan (fondly remembering Thompson's description of him as "Nixon's Davey Crockett"), Jimmy Carter, George McGovern and Tom Wolfe. Johnny Depp, who became friends with the notorious writer while preparing to portray him, reads pieces from Thompson's most incendiary years, yet Gonzo for the most part steers clear of fanboy adulation: There's never any doubt that the boundary-pushing approach that revolutionized the press also made him a prick of a husband and father and, later on, encased him in the shell of his own cultish persona. It's this refusal to settle for Thompson's druggy image that enlarges the film's view of political disillusionment and connects it to our own era of fear and loathing.




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Links for the Day (May 31st, 2008)

1. "24 Season Two: The Musical": Even the cougar gets to sing! (Hattip: Gerry Canavan)

["Bring it on!"] Continue Reading »




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Sundance Institute at BAM: Anvil! The Story of Anvil

Anvil! The Story of Anvil

Rock titans Slash, Lemmy Kilmister and Lars Ulrich extol the virtues of Canadian metal outfit Anvil at the outset of the aptly titled Anvil! The Story of Anvil, yet Sacha Gervasi's documentary about the little-known group isn't propelled by musical brilliance but, rather, by bittersweet blood, sweat and tears. Once a 15-year-old roadie for the band's 1985 tour, Gervasi reconnects with the group—led by Steve "Lips" Kudlow and Robb Reiner, who founded the band in high school 35 years ago—in order to both find out what impeded their path to success as well as to help grant them the recognition he believes they deserve. The director's fondness for the group, however, doesn't unsettle his warts-and-all portrait, which begins by recalling their halcyon 1984 days performing with bondage harnesses and dildos in Japan alongside Bon Jovi and Whitesnake, and then charts their current, arduous efforts to keep teenage rock n' roll dreams alive while supporting families through nine-to-five drudgery. A European tour fraught with shady venue owners, missed trains and in-fighting, and subsequent efforts to record their 13th studio album, is—when accompanied by references to Satan and a visit to Stonehenge—a misadventure that a less compassionate filmmaker might have wrung for cheap Spinal Tap-ish humor. Gervasi, though, eschews at-their-expense jokes to concentrate on the simultaneously pitiable, poignant and stirring perseverance of Lips and Reiner, lifelong friends who keep trudging forward, despite economic hurdles, the ravages of time, and repeated blows to their self-esteem and brotherly relationship, in the hope that their star might yet ascend. Lips proves particularly fascinating, his never-say-die resolve destabilized by the painful weight of responsibility he feels toward those who count on him to make the band go, and his deep discontent epitomized by the candid admission that sometimes, when on stage, he closes his eyes and tries to imagine a crowd as big and wild as those which greet his idols. Anvil! revolves around a band that, in all probability, will forever fail to attain Metallica or Megadeth-levels of popularity. But if fame and fortune elude them, their abiding, unadulterated love of shredding guitars, thunderous drums and growling vocals nonetheless exemplifies something just as vital: the fast, brutal, never-say-die essence of metal.




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Cannes Film Festival 2008: Days 9 and 10

Synecdoche, New York

Synecdoche, New York (Charlie Kaufman). It doesn't matter how big a Kaufman devotee you are, how many times you've seen Being John Malkovich or Adaptation. or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It doesn't matter what you've read or heard about Synecdoche, New York, his directorial debut, because nothing could possibly prepare you for the overwhelming mindfuckery on display. It is easily Kaufman's most ambitious project, which means that it is easily one of the most ambitious films I've ever seen. The role of the artist in society; coming to terms with death, God and fate; and the importance of escaping from the trap of solipsism in order to connect with others are among the most prominent themes, but they are far from the only ones. The sheer depth and complexity of the ideas Kaufman is out to explore here is mind-boggling.

Obviously, Synecdoche, New York is not an easy film, or a clean one. The first twenty minutes or so are relatively straight-forward, all things considered, as they detail the day-to-day life of a theatre director named Caden Cotard (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and his wife Adele (Catherine Keener). When Caden's health begins to deteriorate in strange and grotesque ways (the possibilities of these sicknesses being all in his head or being meant as a literalization of his fear of death seem quite likely), Adele takes his daughter to Berlin for a week-long trip. They never come home, and as the film becomes increasingly focused on Caden's mental state, things like temporal and narrative cohesion start to feel like a distant memory. Continue Reading »




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915 (56). El Topo (1970, Alejandro Jodorowsky)

[Editor's Note: This is the latest entry in House contributor Kevin B. Lee's Shooting Down Pictures, a record of his ongoing quest to see every title on the list of the 1000 Greatest Films compiled by They Shoot Pictures, Don't They?]

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Screening #1: December 2006, IFC Center - opening night premiere of a new digital print restored for the upcoming Abkco/Image Entertainment DVD supervised by Jodorowsky. Yoko Ono scheduled to introduce the film but pulls out for fear of her ex-chauffeur stalking and threatening her. That was about as much excitement as the evening had to offer, as by a third of the way into the film I had nodded off. Despite the heapings of noisy gunfights, sodomy and lesbianism, my brain cells instinctively powered down in reaction to the overbearing presence of what it deemed a gratuitous display of shock cinema. Or perhaps it was the pseudo-philosophical babblings of characters who lulled me into a defensive slumber. When I finally awoke to the sound of an entire village being wiped out mercilessly by a shotgun-toting monk, who then consummated the film in a climax ripped baldly from Vietnam war newsreels, I assured myself that I hadn't missed much...

Screening #2: 10 a.m., sitting on my bed in a cold tranquil February morning. This time I don't fall asleep, and what's more, I'm taken in by the film's swagger, its audio-visual abundance, the way its execution rendered its conceptual gimmickry into real moments and tactile sensations. In the days and weeks that follow, I try to make my peace with the film.

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To read the rest of the article at Shooting Down Pictures, click here.




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Links for the Day (May 30th, 2008)

1. Some Sex & the City reviews of note: Anthony Lane in The New Yorker; Ed Gonzalez in Slant Magazine; Peter Sobczynski at eFilmCritic; Roger Ebert for the Chicago Sun-Times; Alonso Duralde for MSNBC; Owen Gleiberman for Entertainment Weekly; and A.W., of course, for the New York Press.

["Sex and the City's superficial fans couldn't give a shit, but I still have to ask: Is a demeaning representation better than no representation at all? When Jennifer Hudson appears on screen in Sex and the City, the only sane way to respond to the Oscar-winning actress's performance is with a Homer Simpson-esque shudder, not because Hudson can't act—most people could tell you that from watching Dreamgirls, in which Hudson's "soulful" singing was meant to distract (some might say successfully) from reality—but because the American Idol also-ran allows herself to be typecast as a modern-day mammy to Sarah Jessica Parker's Carrie Bradshaw. The way Michael Patrick King tells it, you wouldn't think much has changed since the Civil War-era plantation, as Hudson's Louise is exactly to Carrie what Butterfly McQueen's Prissy was to Vivien Leigh's Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind. "] Continue Reading »




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Ten steps away: At the Death House Door

By Matt Zoller Seitz

"The biggest and most important thing is, I believe and always believed and always will believe that no one should die alone," says pastor Carroll Pickett, who for 15 years ministered to death-row inmates at the "Walls" prison unit in Huntsville, Texas. "Somebody should be with them who cares for them as people."

Starting in 1979, three years after the Supreme Court reversed itself and declared capital punishment legal, the soft-spoken Pickett was present for 95 executions, before leaving the prison system and becoming an anti-death-penalty activist in 2004. Now 73, he's the ostensible subject of At the Death House Door, a documentary by Hoop Dreams directors Steve James and Peter Gilbert that debuts Thursday 29 on the Independent Film Channel. But the movie, like Pickett, proves more complex than its placid surface suggests: As terse and subdued as Hoop Dreams was expansive and exuberant, Death House slowly and subtly reveals itself to be about far more than one pastor's life. It's about the politics and ethics of the death penalty, the human flaws that prevent it from being carried out equitably and consistently, and the moral calculus that those involved must go through to be able to sleep at night.

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To read an interview with Carroll and the filmmakers, Steve James and Peter Gilbert, go to the Time Out New York feature here. To watch my video podcast review of the movie, see below or click here.




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"Indie 500″: The Return

Hello. My name is Vadim, and I've been a derelict blogger. I truly apologize; after filing my last column (2 MONTHS AGO!), it became increasingly obvious that running the next month's gauntlet of wrapping up my undergraduate life forever, moving house (5 stops closer on the L! Woo!), and covering the Tribeca Film Festival would be hard enough without listening to anything but the same four albums over and over for comfort's sake. (This mostly amounted to listening to the new, leaked Notwist a bunch, which was fab. More on this in the AV Club when it actually comes out.) Keith was kind enough to give me the time to tweak out on my own, and now I'm back (which is to say comfortably underemployed and reveling in it, at least for the moment). There's a lot of ground to cover, so let me adopt a slightly superficial capsule mode for this round til we're all caught up again: Continue Reading »




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SIFF 34: Dispatch Three

By N.P. Thompson

Much more entertaining and enjoyable than any movie I've seen in the last several days was actor F. Murray Abraham's refreshingly plainspoken talk about his life in the theatre and the disappointments of his post-Amadeus film career. Holding court for a too-short 90 minutes at Northwest Film Forum this past Memorial Day, Abraham, every bit the engaging charmer, reminisced about working with Milos Forman, Woody Allen, and Lina Wertmüller (the last of whom confessed to him, over a few glasses of wine in between takes, "I haven't been able to make a good movie since I got rich"). Continue Reading »




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Links for the Day (May 29th, 2008)

1. ""Iron Man" and Robert Downey Jr.'s quirky performance": At his online journal, Roger Ebert takes a long, hard look at the man who would be Tony Stark.

["Downey's performance is intriguing, and unexpected. He doesn't behave like most superheroes: he lacks the psychic weight and gravitas. Tony Stark is created from the persona Downey has fashioned through many movies: irreverent, quirky, self-deprecating, wise-cracking. The fact that Downey is allowed to think and talk the way he does while wearing all that hardware represents a bold decision by the director, Jon Favreau. If he hadn't desired that, he probably wouldn't have hired Downey. So comfortable is Downey with Tony Stark's dialogue, so familiar does it sound coming from him, that the screenplay seems almost to have been dictated by Downey's persona."] Continue Reading »




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To Our Readers: URL Change

Hello My URL Is

A note to our readers. We've changed our URL to http://www.thehousenextdooronline.com so please update your bookmarks and records accordingly. The transition takes a few days, so if there are any problems the original URL (mattzollerseitz.blogspot.com) will take you to the site as well, and should continue to after the fact. Thank you.




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Links for the Day (May 28th, 2008)

1. "Matt Zoller Seitz on Movie Geeks United!": Our own Editor Emeritus joined the Movie Geeks to discuss the new 4-film Rambo box set. The discussion begins at 42:24. Click here for Matt's article on the Rambo series, originally published on January 25th, 2008.

["War is in your blood."] Continue Reading »




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The Character Assassination of Hillary Clinton

The Character Assassination of Hillary Clinton

Watching Countdown with Keith Olbermann used to make me feel a little less alone in the world. I live in New York City, where everyone I know predicted the heinous mess the Iraq War would be long before it was even fully sold to the American public, but it was comforting to see and hear our views broadcast beyond the tiny bubble of Manhattan. After all, my somewhat liberal sister only lives an hour away and she voted for Bush in 2004 because she said he made her feel "safer." In recent months, however, it's become increasingly difficult to watch Olbermann, as he seemingly takes some kind of sick pleasure in trashing Hillary Clinton. There is plenty to condemn about the New York senator's poorly managed campaign, and by displaying a willingness to criticize a Democrat I suppose he thinks he's proving himself to be an equal-opportunity watchdog, but the smug, venomous bias with which he disparages Clinton for things he might otherwise shrug off if there weren't someone more appealing running for President reveals an obvious prejudice, if not a specific agenda.

Barack Obama has been touted not only as an agent of change, but as a symbol of hope. But it's Clinton who has proven to be the true spokesperson for hope—or, if her most recent declarations that she can still win are any indication, she's refusing to acknowledge that the Kool-Aid even exists. Perpetual calls (Olbermann calls them "few") for Clinton to drop out of the race when she has every right to stay, even if there weren't less than a 2% spread in the popular vote between the two candidates in either direction, rightfully angered some of her supporters. The Democratic primary season ends on June 3rd and there's no reason why anyone vying for the nomination should bow out until all the votes, super or mere mortal, have been cast. If Democrats think the primary season is too long, they should shorten it. And Clinton's support is such that it can't—and shouldn't—be ignored. There's a reason both candidates have endured this long without toppling the other, and it's not simply because Clinton's supporters are racist and Obama's are sexist.

That said, my support for Clinton has gradually eroded with every bombastic claim of potential victory and with every seemingly opportunistic Clinton/GOP collusion against Obama. I find myself more and more convinced of Obama's electability and competence every time I hear him speak, not to mention each time I see him referred to as "BHO" on FOX News's screen crawl. (As if having a Muslim name—or hell, even being Muslim—should be a deal breaker to be a viable presidential candidate anyway.) If Clinton should have dropped out by now, it's not because her chances of winning the nomination are slim to none (they are at this point), but that the consequences of her becoming the nominee would likely be too catastrophic, too loaded with potential resentment and whispers of conspiracy, racism and theft for the party to overcome. So it is with complete and confident objectivity that I say: Leave Hillary alone.

I'm once again feeling alone. The country at large has finally come around to truths about the Bush administration and the wars it has waged that some of us have known for years. But the demonization of the Clintons, especially Hillary, by supposed liberals is mind-boggling. When radio talk show host and Obama supporter Joe Madison told Chris Matthews last night that "some people" believe Clinton might have been delivering a "coded" message to would-be assassins when she cited Robert F. Kennedy's murder during the 1968 Democratic primary as a reason to remain in the race, Salon editor-in-chief Joan Walsh's head practically exploded—and rightfully so. Never mind that "some people" is itself essentially coded language for talking heads when they want to make a point about something they believe without having to actually take credit for it. It seems Walsh is one of the few rational thinkers thinking out loud in the media right now.

I removed myself from MoveOn.org's mailing list shortly after the organization officially endorsed Obama. Not because I didn't support Obama (I did, and do), but because I was tired of constantly receiving newsletters with headlines trashing another candidate I also supported. It's like getting emails from your dad talking smack about your mom right after the divorce. Apparently unbeknownst to MoveOn, there are actually people out there who both support Clinton and believe the Bush administration is one of the most destructive things to happen to our democracy (and possibly the world) in at least a generation. You don't need a law degree to know when something stinks like bullshit and the 2000 election, the war in Iraq, the Hurricane Katrina debacle, and almost every other piece of domestic and foreign policy enacted by George W. Bush and his cronies were just that. When Mom and Dad are fighting, however, picking sides can get real messy real fast, and Oprah's plummeting favorability ratings in the months since she endorsed Obama might be proof of that.

Walsh is dead-on when she says it's the Clinton-hate that's damaging the Democratic party, not the actual candidates, and the supposedly "liberal" media is the worst offender. With the guttural force, condescension and indignation he typically reserves for our country's most morally feeble political minds (Bush, Cheney, Rove, O'Reilly, Limbaugh), Olbermann scolded Clinton during a "special comment" last week as if she were Ireland Baldwin, calling her "heartless" but stopping short of "thoughtless little pig." "You actually used the word 'assassination'!" he scoffed with incredulity. Once again in America, the actual word is the offense, not thinking it, nor implying it, nor conjuring it obliquely as she has frequently between March 6th, when she told Time magazine almost the exact same thing, and her comments to the Sioux Falls Argus Leader editorial board. The Time quote makes it perfectly clear that in both cases Clinton was using the date of RKF's assassination as evidence of why "having a primary contest go through June is nothing particularly unusual [so get off my fucking back already]."

The emphasis was on June, not assassination. Had she not been battling a constant drumbeat to drop out of the race, she may never have had reason to evoke the 1968 election, which has been compared to the current primary contest by those in the media (Limbaugh even publicly called for blood in the streets at the Denver convention in August) almost as many times as Obama has been likened to RFK, who—guess what?—was assassinated. Obama was armed with a Secret Service detail earlier than any other non-former First Lady candidate for a reason, and it wasn't to keep Bill O'Reilly away.

Olbermann closed his special comment by citing a litany of statements, misstatements, blunders and contradictions he claims "we" have forgiven Clinton for when it's clear he has not forgiven or forgotten about any of those transgressions. His rants are usually well-composed, thoughtful, incisive and justified, but this one seemed jumbled, hastily thrown together, and, worse, arbitrary, like he'd been licking his chops and waiting for that one final statement, ad or mistake to pounce and deliver the final blow in his Clinton character assassination. I can forgive you for many things, Mr. Olbermann. But I cannot forgive you this:




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