BEST ALBUMS OF 2008: #9

9. Vampire Weekend - VAMPIRE WEEKEND

I had to look past the hype, the sweaters, the desire to create a soundtrack for an imaginary Wes Anderson film to get at what’s really remarkable about this band: its rhythms. Whether exotic (made explicit in the title “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa”) or merely unorthodox (the ska without horns of “A-Punk”), they’re almost always danceable, and they can even make a borderline annoying song like “One (Blake’s Got a New Face)” tolerable. Although the singer is no David Byrne, early Talking Heads is a good reference point. They get props, however, for reveling in this very distinct little world while still making a generous effort to invite us all in.

Favorite songs: “A-Punk”, “M79”, “Walcott”

BEST ALBUMS OF 2008: #10

10. Robert Forster - THE EVANGELIST

Two years after the untimely death of Grant McLennan, his ex-partner in The Go-Betweens, Forster resurfaces as mournful and elegiac as you'd expect: in the sorrowful "Demon Days" (which features some lyrics by McLennan), he sings "Something's gone wrong" and it's almost too much to bear. But Forster did some of his best work ever on the last Go-Betweens album, and much of this one feels like a new beginning rather than a closure. He even sounds jubilant on a few numbers and is still capable of a surprise or two: at first, "Don't Touch Anything" scans as an ode to complacency, before it reveals itself as a simple but touching love song, warped cathedral organ and all.

Favorite songs: "Did She Overtake You", "Let Your Light In, Babe", "Don't Touch Anything"

A DOZEN 2008 SONGS TO DOWNLOAD

12 great songs not on my top ten albums. In alphabetical/iTunes order, by artist:

Alphabeat - "Fascination"
It's too easy to copy the sound of another time and be done with it; this young, heavily '80s-influenced Danish sextet earns bonus points for also capturing the giddy excitement associated with the best pop songs of that era, and for being so darn infectious that they end up sounding more like today than yesterday.

The B-52's - "Juliet of the Spirits"
Gotta love Fred, but over the years, many of the B's best moments have been courtesy of Cindy and Kate ("Give Me Back My Man", "Roam", "Summer of Love"). Add this cascading, shimmering ode to Fellini and feminine awakening to the list - it's a highlight from their more-durable-than-you-would-expect reunion effort FUNPLEX.

Camille, "Cats and Dogs"
"Cats and dogs are not our friends," trills this sweet-voiced french chanteuse over a swaying piano line recalling early Kate Bush, before fast forwarding to a THE DREAMING-era Bush freakout, as she giddily leads call-and-response meows and woofs amidst a fabulous cacophony of barnyard noise.

Fleet Foxes - "White Winter Hymnal"
The lyrics may reference the colder months, but the music of this neat, if somewhat overhyped Seattle band sounds positively, blissfully summery, with wide expanses of tom-toms and 12-string guitars filling up space between the song's attention-grabbing a capella harmony bookends.

Hercules and Love Affair - "Blind"
It's more-than-adequate revivalist disco until Antony's androgynous, otherworldly voice comes in and nearly steals the show. Yet, he works with rather than overshadows the backing track, and the yin/yang combo makes for an urgently beautiful marriage.

Marit Bergman - "Out on the Piers"
Concentrating on singles (via a subscription service) rather than albums, she's come up with an unconventional but agreeable assortment of stuff. This gem, a semi-sequel to 2006's "No Party", is a crisp, jaunty, impassioned rise-up-and-unite anthem that seems especially relevant this year.

Mark Brown feat. Sarah Cracknell - "The Journey Continues"
Yet another year without any new material from Saint Etienne, although this collaboration between vocalist Cracknell and producer Brown can't help but sound like a St. Et. track - fortunately, it's as catchy (the propulsive beat) and weird (the eerie, operatic vocal sample woven throughout) as one of their classic singles.

Martha Wainwright - "You Cheated Me"
I respected Wainwright's 2005 self-titled debut well enough but thought it could've used at least one song with a really memorable hook (even brother Rufus had "April Fools" on his debut). With this highlight from her second LP (the wonderfully titled I KNOW YOU'RE MARRIED BUT I'VE GOT FEELINGS TOO), she not only fulfills the criteria but knocks it out of the park. I've spent hours, days even with this song's terrific chorus stuck in my head, and I don't mind (or feel cheated) at all.

MGMT - "Time to Pretend"
Psych-pop that's more pop than psych, sharp rather than precious, less ironic than affectionate, and with a hook that's nearly as unshakable as that of "You Cheated Me".

She & Him - "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?"
Over the length of an album, Zooey Deschanel's charming but somewhat flat tone starts to grate, but on one song at a time, it occasionally endears - especially on this single, and particularly towards the end when her multiple overdubs lift the track into retro AM-radio heaven.

Steve Wynn - "Manhattan Fault Line"
Wynn is one of my longtime favorite artists, and I'm still trying to figure out his latest album CROSSING DRAGON BRIDGE, an odd folk-rock detour recorded in Slovenia. But this single instantly connects, building slowly through wistful ruminations on the author's past and present until it practically explodes into a joyous, orchestral finale.

The Ting Tings - "Shut Up and Let Me Go"
You may have heard this one in an iTunes commercial. It's really catchy and kinda stupid and owes a sizable debt to Blondie (and maybe the Tom Tom Club). It stands to be this year's equivalent to last year's most co-opted, overplayed song (that would be Peter Bjorn and John's "Young Folks"). I still can't get enough of it.

12 more songs to download:

Alison Moyet - "A Guy Like You"
Cyndi Lauper - "Rain on Me"
David Byrne and Brian Eno - "Strange Overtones"
Duffy - "Mercy"
Elbow - "The Bones of You"
Kate Nash - "Foundations"
Magnetic Fields, "Drive On, Driver"
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, "Dig, Lazurus, Dig!"
R.E.M., "Supernatural Superserious"
Sam Sparro, "Black and Gold"
Sparks, "Lighten Up, Morrissey"
Super Furry Animals, "Baby Ate My Eightball"

20 MUSICALS

Submitted for the annual Chlotrudis poll: this is a list of my favorites as opposed to the "best": witness the good, the bad and the ugly - all together!

1. SINGIN' IN THE RAIN (dir: Stanley Donen, 1952)

You arguably could take out the songs and still have a brilliant satire of early-sound cinema (even though she doesn't sing, Jean Hagen gives the best performance here), but why even imagine a world without such iconic numbers as "Make 'em Laugh", "Good Morning" and the graceful, wistful title song?

2. ALL THAT JAZZ (Bob Fosse, 1979)

Some of it is incredibly dated, but Fosse's fearless self-portrait is above all an innovative hybrid of theatrical attitude and cinematic technique that nearly three decades later has not been surpassed.

3. THE WIZARD OF OZ (Victor Fleming, 1939)

I can't think of anything else to say about this perennial gem that hasn't already been said, except that it has flying monkeys, and more films should have flying monkeys.

4. HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH (John Cameron Mitchell, 2001)

Finally, a true "rock" musical that comes from the heart (instead of a record company's A/R department). It has a handmade quality that makes Mitchell's arresting persona and poignant songs all the more so.

5. THE UMBRELLAS OF CHERBOURG (Jacques Demy, 1964)

Often imitated (to a degree) but never matched, Demy's masterpiece is a gorgeous, melancholy treat (as is a young Catherine Deneuve.)

6. THE HAPPINESS OF THE KATIKURIS (Takashi Miike, 2001)

Very little in this world makes me as happy as this, Miike's lovingly deranged cross between THE AMITYVILLE HORROR and an all-singing, all-dancing episode of THE LOVE BOAT.

7. WEST SIDE STORY (Jerome Robbins and Robert Wise, 1961)

For all its flaws (I'm looking at you, Natalie Wood), you can use this often-stunning film as a dividing point in Hollywood musicals: everything good that came after is noticeably different from everything before.

8. SOUTH PARK: BIGGER, LONGER AND UNCUT (Trey Parker, 1999)

The TV series is maddeningly uneven, but occasionally everything aligns perfectly, as it did in this hilariously profane (and oddly humane) parody of/homage to animated musicals.

9. ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW (Jim Sharman, 1975)

I've probably heard its glorious soundtrack hundreds of times. It falls apart in the final third, but c'mon - Susan Sarandon singing in her underwear, "The Time Warp", the all-encompassing awesomeness of Tim Curry...

10. PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE (Brian De Palma, 1974)

ROCKY HORROR'S evil, groovy stepsister, in which mad scientist De Palma gives us a delightfully glam take on FAUST, introduces the incomparable Jessica Harper to the masses and imagines diminutive Paul Williams as the devil.

11. CABARET (Fosse, 1972)

This might have placed higher if I hadn't last seen it more than a decade ago, but in an entirely different way, it's as iconic as THE WIZARD OF OZ, and nearly as much of a game changer as WEST SIDE STORY.

12. THE BOY FRIEND (Ken Russell, 1971)

Before he went way over the top with TOMMY and LISZTOMANIA, Russell struck a perfect balance here between classicism (the 1920s stage setting with Twiggy and Tommy Tune) and revisionism (inventive musical numbers that play out like a pleasant acid trip).

13. AN AMERICAN IN PARIS (Vincente Minnelli, 1951)

The genuinely strange, impressionistic 17-minute ballet that concludes the film is Gene Kelly's finest moment, even if most of the remainder is a slightly lesser (but not much less entertaining) predecessor to SINGIN' IN THE RAIN.

14. POPEYE (Robert Altman, 1980)

A childhood favorite that endures because of a well-cast Robin Williams and Shelley Duvall, and also because it's an Altman film through and through. The self-contained universe here is also just a lot of fun to look at.

15. A HARD DAY'S NIGHT (Richard Lester, 1964)

You can debate each of the Fab Four's acting chops, but this cash-in on a phenomenon more than aptly captured the zeitgeist and it still shows why a simple rock band mattered so much.

16. THE APPLE (Menahem Golan, 1980)

Possibly the worst film I've ever seen, and unquestionably the most fascinating. "It's a natural, natural, natural desire to meet an actual, actual, actual vampire!"

17. THE WAYWARD CLOUD (Tsai Ming-Liang, 2005)

An arthouse film alternating musical numbers with scenes of graphic sex is a lot to live up to, but the musical numbers are so fantastic (and original - you will never look at orange traffic cones the same way again), you're caught between pleasure and discomfort to a degree no other musical offers, except for maybe...

18. DANCER IN THE DARK (Lars von Trier, 2000)

I don't know if I could ever sit through this film again, which blew my mind but also left me absolutely destroyed. Say what you will about von Trier and leading lady Bjork, but the few, fleeting musical numbers here are as entertaining as they are cathartic.

19. HEAD (Bob Rafelson, 1968)

In which the Monkees end their career with an avant-garde deconstruction of their myth, and the world is that much richer for its mere existence.

20. SWEET CHARITY (Fosse, 1969)

It was between this and CHICAGO for the final slot, but I'll take an actual Fosse production over an adaptation of Fosse any day -- as long as this film's wonderfully bittersweet ending is kept intact.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Chicago, On the Town, Funny Face, Holiday Inn, The Muppet Movie, 8 Women, 42nd Street, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Topsy-Turvy, Velvet Goldmine, Once, A Mighty Wind

Just a warning that year-end list time is upon us. Instead of doing my favorite music of the year in one post, I'm going to count down my top ten albums one by one, preceded by a list of some of my favorite tracks. This will probably take up the rest of the month, so sit tight and stay tuned.

In the meantime, check out the astonishing cover of Morrissey's new album, scheduled to come out in February. The venerable duo Sparks recorded a song this year called "Lighten Up, Morrissey" and I think he's taken that advice to heart or maybe has just lost his mind--either way, it got my attention.

THE ANGELIC CONVERSATION

I've taken off the "A Year of" prefix, as I began this project at the beginning of 2008, and you can be assured it will not be finished by the end of it. I meant to write about this film four months ago; I didn't partially due to less frequent blogging in general, but mostly because it's a daunting film to write intelligently about, and possibly the worst place for a neophyte to begin - or perhaps the best if you're a particularly adventurous cineaste.

Six years passed between THE ANGELIC CONVERSATION (1985) and Jarman's previous feature film. However, he didn't exactly spend that period resting on his laurels. He devoted much time and energy to developing a screenplay and finding funds for what would become CARAVAGGIO; he also turned out an extensive body of work, including set design for a stage production of The Rake's Progress, a number of ultimately unfilmed screenplays (such as the sci-fi allegory NEUTRON, which almost got made with David Bowie in the lead role), his first memoir (Dancing Ledge), "pop promos" (music videos) for everyone from Marianne Faithfull to Wang Chung, and, as always, many Super-8 short films.

Following a retrospective of his work at the Institute of Contemporary Arts, he finally managed to secure funding from the British Film Institute for CARAVAGGIO. But first, he diverted a portion of those funds towards a very different project that had far more in common with his shorts than his features. In fact, it's not difficult to think of THE ANGELIC CONVERSATION as a typical Jarman short expanded into a 77-minute tone poem: of the finished work, The Times duly noted, "The film seems like an excellent short spun out of control."

Jarman made many of his shorts as a communal activity, a simple but creative means of filming his friends, and THE ANGELIC CONVERSATION was born out of this intent. The project began when, at a bar, Jarman met and was taken with Paul Reynolds, a young archaeology student. Reynolds did not reciprocate Jarman's feelings, but when he expressed interest in Philip Williamson, another young man at the bar, Jarman decided he would film what he witnessed (and, to an extent, imagined to be) their subsequent affair. The results follow a trajectory of sorts: Reynolds and Williamson are both shot separately for the first half, then come together to share the frame as they physically embrace, only to be shown apart again during the final sequences.



Most of the film is shot in Super-8 and projected in slow motion (approximately 5-10 frames per second), giving it both a dreamlike, somnambulant feel and an exceptionally glacial pace. As expected from Super-8 stock, the images are grainy and are also often washed out with earth tones and orange and beige filters. A few fleeting sequences are in regular motion and their sudden appearance startles nearly as much as, say, the one fluid shot amongst the still frames of LA JETEE.

There is no dialogue and possibly no sync-sound (it's often hard to tell); in their place is an electronic, ambient score by Coil, an extended snippet of Benjamin Britten's "Sea Interludes" from Tammy Grimes, and the occasional voice-over reading of Shakespeare sonnets by Judi Dench. One could offer up a detailed analysis of how the sonnets add meaning to the imagery and are Jarman's way of advocating the theory that they were written out of some homoerotic intent, but in all my viewings of this film, I was less struck by the words than by Dench's reading of them. Her tone is cool but not without urgency, and it's a perfect match for the swirling, clanging, alternately soothing and jarring noise surrounding her interludes.

For anyone accustomed to the narrative-centric structure (no matter how loose or stretched) of Jarman's first three features, THE ANGELIC CONVERSATION might seem completely alien. Even on my second viewing of it this year, it took me a good fifteen or twenty minutes to adjust to its challenging style. Jarman counters this somewhat by stocking the film with motifs that will register with anyone familiar with his work: the sound of water and its calming presence; reoccurring images like a rotating radar and a burning car; the bold, fluid reflection of a mirror against sunlight; the flame of a lit flare, this time slowed down into an abstraction.

One of his most gentle and pastoral films, it is also nearly unprecedented in Jarman's oeuvre as a paean to the male form, although not straightforward or bluntly rendered enough to be considered erotica or even kitsch. Instead, it plays out like a series of closely observed rituals. Reynolds and Williamson spend much of the film building up a head full of steam overflowing with longing and extended gazes (sometimes at each other, but mostly directed from Jarman). However, when they finally touch, they do so as a slow-motion wrestle that seems less tender than defensive and aggressive. Their first explicitly tender embrace is briefly shown at normal speed, before Jarman slows it back down and it plays out like a series of tiny, isolated gestures--a holding of hands, a chaste kiss on the lips, the reaction and turn of a face.

The "story" here is told almost entirely through such images, but left wide open in terms of a literal interpretation. We don't know why the lovers are apart at the end, whether the circumstances are tragic or not. What matters is they are apart - their placement and the suddenly icy music that envelops them tells us as such. In this sense THE ANGELIC CONVERSATION is not only Jarman's most intimate film but also, perhaps, his most inscrutable. Naturally, such a "difficult" effort was the one film he was apparently most proud of and felt truly represented him. It undoubtedly requires an openness on the viewer's part to look past its abstractions and approach it as one would poetry instead of prose. For me, it's not a breakthrough nearly on par with the work he'd be doing in another two years, but certainly a stepping stone towards a truly independent, personal, original cinema.

MORE MAGGIE

I know I'm running the risk of this turning into an all-puppy blog, but I can't resist posting a few more pics of Maggie here. In the two weeks since she arrived, she's already grown considerably.



Like most puppies, she's alternately a sweet cuddly dog and a little terror - she just loves to bite on her pee-pee pad and run away with it in her mouth (with Steve and I usually chasing her in exasperation, like the opening of the "Saturday TV Funhouse" credits).



Here's her proud papa Steve, holding her on Thanksgiving.



And here's her other proud papa, me.

INTRODUCING MAGGIE

Every year on the anniversary of my very first blog post, I try to include something special. This year, it's a long-needed re-design (which is still a work-in-progress). Expect more ambition in the coming months: in addition to the usual year-end lists, I plan on reviving one dormant project and, in the new year, hopefully starting another.

In the meantime, say hello to Maggie, whom Steve welcomed into his home last week. She was born on September 1 and weighs 4 pounds. Need I say more about her cuteness...

MILWAUKEE ART MUSEUM

Earlier this month, I returned to my hometown for an old friend's wedding. It was the perfect opportunity to introduce Steve to Milwaukee. He loved the city, even though it was unseasonably cold and dreary (even for Wisconsin!) for most of the trip. Fortunately, the sun finally came out on our last day in town.



After checking out of our third hotel in three nights (the wedding reception was in a Chicago suburb), we took a ride down to the lakefront, stopped by Alterra at the Lake, drove through the East Side, and made our way over to one of my longtime favorite places, the Milwaukee Art Museum.



In 2001 (four years after I moved to Boston), the museum opened a brand new wing. Designed by Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava, it dramatically transformed what was previously a fairly nondescript structure (as you'll see below). This new wing includes an atrium, a long exhibition hall, a footbridge, and a retractable roof that when opened abstractly resembles a swan's wings.

Below are a few close-ups of the roof:







Inside, the atrium is nearly as spectacular. Open and airy, it is a work of art in and of itself, and inviting to many photographers (like Steve below):





It also provides one with a lovely view of Lake Michigan:





In the above photo, one can also see the new Discovery World children's science museum next door.

As an extension of the lobby, the atrium is a quiet, serene space. However, it does allow for one artwork from Dale Chihuly:





Below is the long exhibition hall that leads to the original museum. The latter is home to most of the galleries.



The museum takes up the bottom half of that vast slab of concrete; the top half is the Milwaukee County War Memorial Center. Both celebrated their 50th anniversary last year.



We'll be back, hopefully in warmer weather.

ELECTION NIGHT SPECIAL

Enjoy this Python perennial, and please vote on Tuesday--whether your favorite candidate is sensible or silly.

TWILIGHT AT JAMAICA POND

On my way home from work last Friday, I took an impromptu walk through Jamaica Pond. The lighting and timing were both perfect -- and I had my camera in hand. The last picture really doesn't belong in this sequence, but it was too pretty not to include here.

12 FILMS...

...that I should have seen by now at 33 (and 13 years since I took my first film class). This meme has been making the rounds and I just couldn't pass it up. I haven't included anything from 2000 on, as that was the year I began taking film (perhaps a little too) seriously. So, in chronological order:

1. GONE WITH THE WIND (1939, dir: Victor Fleming)
Arguably the most popular film of all time (it's the highest grossing U.S. film ever, adjusted for inflation), I feel like I've seen it without ever having actually seen it--think of all the quotable lines and parodies throughout history unto infinity--and besides, who has four hours to kill? I missed it during its last theatrical release ten years ago; perhaps I'll soon get another chance to see it on the big screen during its 70th (or 75th) anniversary.

2. WILD STRAWBERRIES (1957, dir: Ingmar Bergman)
I've always admired rather than adored Bergman--I sympathized with Jonathan Rosenbaum's infamous New York Times piece that had the gall to suggest that maybe the Swedish auteur was a tad overrated. I see the greatness in PERSONA and SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE and respect at least a half-dozen other Bergman classics, but I find so much of his work too cold and austere. However, many people I know consider this film about a teacher looking back at his life in existential dread as essential, so it sits waiting patiently for me to move it out of Netflix queue limbo.

3. IMITATION OF LIFE (1959, dir: Douglas Sirk)
I went on a mini-Sirk kick two years ago, watching WRITTEN ON THE WIND and ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS in quick succession after a viewing of Todd Haynes' loving, bold homage FAR FROM HEAVEN. I think Rock Hudson's absence has kept me from making the time to check this one out--after viewing the other two films, Sirk w/out Hudson is in my mind unthinkable--but it'll have to do until MAGNIFICENT OBSESSION gets a DVD release.

4. HIGH AND LOW (1963, dir: Akira Kurosawa)
I almost saw this as part of the Friday Night Screening/Speaker series I worked on at BU a decade ago, but it was replaced at the very last minute by a work-in-progress-screening of Errol Morris' MR. DEATH: THE RISE AND FALL OF FRED A. LEUTCHER, JR. with the director in person. Kurosawa is another auteur I never really "got" until I saw his somewhat atypical IKIRU a few years ago, and I'm ready to sit down and take in this kidnapping thriller.

5. THE GODFATHER, PART II (1974, dir: Francis Ford Coppola)
During my first year in Boston, I rented on average four movies a week from the now-shuttered Allston Videosmith. "Film Club" members were entitled to two-for-one rentals on Tuesdays, provided you rented from a specific genre chosen every month. That October, it was "widescreen" film (funny to think that was a genre in the pre-DVD age), so that's how I ended up watching THE GODFATHER for the first (and to date only) time. I liked it well enough, so I don't know why I never got around to its highly regarded sequel.

6. FINGERS (1978, dir: James Toback)
The premise intrigues: A young man (Harvey Keitel) is torn between loyalties to the mob and dreams of becoming a famous concert pianist. I probably would have made more of an effort to see Toback's film by now if not for the very good 2005 French remake, THE BEAT MY HEART SKIPPED with Romain Duris in the Keitel role.

7. THE RIGHT STUFF (1983, dir: Philip Kaufman)
I read Tom Wolfe's account of the U.S. space program's early years back in 2002. This film adaptation, underrated and a flop at the time of release, has a great cast (Ed Harris, Dennis Quaid, Barbara Hershey), and a 3 hour plus running time. Oh, how I used to have a higher tolerance for lengthy flicks--ten years I ago, I remember seeing LA DOLCE VITA, ULYSSES' GAZE and Tarkovsky's SOLARIS (all 3 hour flicks) over the course of one Columbus Day weekend!

8. LOCAL HERO (1983, dir: Bill Forsyth)
I never heard of Forsyth's comedy before I moved to Boston to study film, but since then, I've heard nothing but great things about it. And given that I loved his neat 1987 adaptation of Marilynne Robinson's novel HOUSEKEEPING (why isn't that one on DVD?), I have to make time for it soon.

9. SCHINDLER'S LIST (1993, dir: Steven Spielberg)
I don't care if it's his mature masterpiece--I'd rather sit through the horror of CRASH again (Haggis, not Cronenberg even!) than have to watch another film about the holocaust.

10. WHITE (1994, dir: Krzysztof Kieslowski)
On the list because I saw BLUE and RED a decade ago but for some reason, I never got around to this one--and it even has the lovely Julie Delpy in it! At this point, I might as well watch all three in order.

11. PRINCESS MONONOKE (1997, dir: Hayao Miyazaki)
Out of all these unseen films, there's absolutely no excuse for this one, given how much I love SPIRITED AWAY. Maybe the film's action/adventure slant has kept me at bay, or maybe I don't have too strong of a jones for Japanimation, and Miyazaki's an anomaly.

12. BUENA VISTA SOCIAL CLUB (1999, dir: Wim Wenders)
As I repeatedly discovered throughout grad school, Wenders is wildly uneven. For every WINGS OF DESIRE or little-seen masterwork like the epic, demented KINGS OF THE ROAD (another three hour film!), there's crap like TOKYO-GA or THE END OF VIOLENCE. But this doc about Cuban musicians frequently pops up on best-docs-of-all-time lists. So when I'm next in the mood for a little Cuban, I'll consider it.

MAN ON WIRE

In 1974, Philippe Petit, an impish, excitable young Frenchman did an impossible thing—he managed to string a tightrope across the roofs of the World Trade Center twin towers and walk on it (although "dancing" seems a more fitting description). James Marsh's (THE KING, WISCONSIN DEATH TRIP) documentary explains how he did this.

Structured like a heist film, MAN ON WIRE recounts in-depth the planning and preparation that went into pulling off such a stunt. It's both an edge-of-your-seat thriller and an oral history of sorts, consisting of modern day interviews with the ever sinewy Petit and his accomplices—most of whom are nearly as entertaining as Petit, from his still-in-awe ex-girlfriend Annie to two perpetually stoned Americans (bluntly described by the others as "losers") who were corralled in to string the rope.

Marsh supplements these interviews with archival footage and reenactments. The latter might be the least cheesy ever: impressionistic and mostly in silhouette or shadow, they're delicately folded into the story and rarely register as jarring or distracting. Still, the archival footage is astonishing, from Petit's prior tightrope walking feats across the Sydney Harbor bridge and the Norte Dame cathedral to his prep work in the French countryside—his irreverent spirit there is summed up by a puckish handmade road sign pointing the way to the "World Trade Center Association" with a crude stick figure drawing at its side of Petit walking across the towers.

It all builds to the event itself, which unfolds in a series of still shots of Petit on the rope, 100 stories up from the ground, accompanied by Erik Satie's gorgeous piano piece "Gymnopédie No.1" (as effective here in its starkness and simplicity as it was in FLIGHT OF THE RED BALLOON). What's so appealing about the film is that it examines an artist who puts on a show, rather than one merely showing off. Petit's walk comes off not only as a challenge to realize or an act of rebellion, but as work of art, something full of grace and beauty.

Neither Marsh nor his subjects make a single direct reference to 9/11, and they don't need to. Just the sight of the towers themselves resonates differently than it once did. The towers' presence on screen haunts and their absence adds weight to Petit's accomplishment. Reminiscing on Petit's walk and its aftermath, one accomplice starts to say, "This was the end of something" before he breaks down in tears, and we immediately understand the dual meaning behind his words. MAN ON WIRE derives much of its power from being equal parts celebration and requiem.

Over at Mewsings (in my first post in forever): ten fall indies I'm looking forward to seeing. To this shortlist, I would also add SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE (new Danny Boyle film that won the audience award at Toronto and opens two days after MILK), CHOKE (Chuck Palahniuk adaptation with Sam Rockwell and Anjelica Huston), RELIGULOUS (Bill Maher's stab at a Michael Moore-type screed about, duh. religion), DOUBT (prestigious play adaptation with Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman) and THE BROTHERS BLOOM (whimsical follow-up from the director of BRICK). And I just may venture out to NICK AND NORAH'S INFINITE PLAYLIST, since its director previously did this gem.

FINISH THE SENTENCE

Found this meme here; tagging these guys.

1. My uncle once: worked for Harley Davidson.

2. Never in my life: have I attended an NFL game.

3. When I was five: my maternal grandfather died.

4. High school was: painful for the first two years and much more enjoyable the other two.

5. I will never forget: the time my father made me laugh so hard at an Italian restaurant that Sprite came out of my nose (it *burns*, by the way).

6. Once I met: the prince of Cameroon (or so he claimed).

7. There’s this girl I know: who currently lives in Hawaii and whose last name is Sinatra.

8. Once, at a bar: in Winona., Minnesota, I was 21 and likely the only person of age (and w/out a fake I.D.) present.

9. By noon, I’m usually: nursing the few remaining sips of my iced coffee.

10. Last night: I ate Crispy Orange Chicken and saw FROZEN RIVER.

11. If only I had: more time (and motivation) to write.

12. Next time I go to church: violent thunder will probably light up the sky.

13. What worries me most: President Sarah Palin.

14. When I turn my head left I see: a disheveled pile of receipts on my desk.

15. When I turn my head right I see: a picture of my cute boyfriend.

16. You know I’m lying when: it sounds far too good to be true.

17. What I miss most about the Eighties is: top 40 radio of the era.

18. If I were a character in Shakespeare I’d be: possibly Rosencrantz and/or Guildenstern.

19. By this time next year: I hope to have a better sense of what my profession is.

20. A better name for me would be: dork or any variation thereof.

21. I have a hard time understanding: why anyone would vote for McCain.

22. If I ever go back to school, I’ll: do it if I don’t have to pay any more tuition.

23. You know I like you if: I talk your ear off.

24. If I ever won an award, the first person I would thank would be: my mom.

25. Take my advice, never: see the movie CRASH.

26. My ideal breakfast is: light, fluffy pancakes, crisp savory bacon and coffee, coffee, coffee.

27. A song I love but do not have is: "Got to Give It Up" by Marvin Gaye.

28. If you visit my hometown, I suggest you: see the Milwaukee Art Museum.

29. Why won’t people: who drive respect cyclists and share the road.

30. If you spend a night at my house: I would keep you up drinking and watching DVDs far too late.

31. I’d stop my wedding for: nothing.

32. The world could do without: "Brangelia" (and any variation thereof).

33. I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: um... sorry, I can't think of anything more disgusting than that!

34. My favourite blonde(s) is/are: Sarah Cracknell (female), James Dean (male).

35. Paper clips are more useful than: binder clips.

36. If I do anything well it’s: make a delicious sweet potato bake.

37. I can’t help but: have (or at least think of having) a nice, cold cocktail after a loooonnggg (or in this case not so long) work week.

38. I usually cry: at the end of A CHARLIE BROWN CHRISTMAS (yes, I admit it!).

39. My advice to my child/nephew/niece: don’t let any adults talk you into a hobby or social activity that you have absolutely no interest in.

40. And by the way: go see MAN ON WIRE if you can.