THE KING and others

One regular-sized review and a slew of bite-sized ones (otherwise I'll never catch up). Now with grades instead of stars!

THE KING: In one of his first (good) English-speaking roles, Gael Garcia Bernal is a young man who has just finished a stint in the US Navy. Named Elvis (hence the film's ironic title), he rolls into Corpus Christi, Texas, and immediately looks up his father, David Sandow (William Hurt). Sandow once had a fling with Elvis' mother, a Mexican prostitute. Shortly thereafter, he found God and is now pastor of a fundamentalist Christian church. He also has a wife, Twyla (Laura Harring) and two teenaged children: Paul (Paul Dano) and Malerie (Pell James). Upon meeting a grown-up Elvis for the first time, Sandow rejects him and forbids him to have any contact with his half-family. However, that doesn't stop Elvis from pursuing a clandestine affair with Malerie; nor does he reveal to her whom he actually is.

It's a shame the trailer for this film makes it look like the usual torpid, pretentious, hot-button topic indie trash; on the contrary, it's an unpredictable, spare, subdued, near-poetic character study. Previously best known for the documentary WISCONSIN DEATH TRIP, director James Marsh is well-adept at sustaining a mood and building intensity but not at the expense of losing the plot or lacking substance. Bernal, Hurt and Dano (very different here from his role in LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE) are all good, but THE KING is most remarkable in its moral ambiguity toward its characters. Sure, you could debate whether each one is "good" or "bad" (and most viewers certainly will), but what matters more is the possibility of redemption, and how difficult (or easy?) it is to earn. Grade: B+

*******

BABEL: Not nearly as bleak but slightly more nervewracking than 21 GRAMS. Three stories here, but it’s really two completely different films--the Japan sequences have at best tenuous links to the wrenching Brad and Cate drama in Morocco and the border-crossing shenanigans between Mexico and the US. Beautifully conceived, thoughtful and poignant, the Japan story is the best part, by the way. B-

CASINO ROYALE: Daniel Craig isn’t the best Bond (yet), but he’s inarguably the catalyst for what has to be the most emotionally complex, character-driven 007 film in decades. He remains a left-field choice, showing more brawn and physical acuity than savoir-faire, but his presence suggests realms of new possibilities for the franchise. The film’s a half-hour too long and the dialogue’s occasionally cheesy, but the damn thing still entertains and, at the very least, is a vast improvement over the spoofy ‘60s Peter O'Toole original--I didn't even think of Austin Powers once. B

REQUIEM: This low-budget German indie immediately renders all other films about exorcism irrelevant (yes, even that one). Based on the same case as THE EXORCISM OF EMILY ROSE, this offers a more realistic, ambivalent take. Sandra Huller is simply astonishing as the lead and if half as many people saw this as those seeing THE QUEEN, she’d get award nominations up the wazoo. Bonus points for painstakingly (and lovingly) recreating the early ‘70s without a hint of kitsch. A-

SHADOWBOXER: Lee Daniels’ audacious thriller probably never played your town because the mainstream critics trashed it. While not an undiscovered masterpiece, it’s pretty fascinating if you allow yourself to believe that Helen Mirren and Cuba Gooding Jr. could be assassins/lovers, that Joseph Gordon-Leavitt and Mo’Nique could be a loving couple, and that Macy Gray could be a cracked-up whore (ok, that last one’s not too far out). But this is a crafty little film that has something to say about families and how knowledge and behavior is learned within them. Daniels’ dreamlike palette and loping editing rhythms make me look forward to the second film I hope he gets to make. B

SHUT UP AND SING: Dixie Chicks’ feisty, lovable lead singer Natalie Maines is nearly up there with Timothy Treadwell (GRIZZLY MAN) and Little Edie (GREY GARDENS) as an Utterly Fascinating Documentary Subject (only she’s not crazy). Not since DiG! has there been such an insightful film about the music business. Concerned with how politics can radically rearrange your audience base overnight, it’s lucky for being in the right place in the right time, and noteworthy for recording and analyzing a historical moment with such depth and feeling. A-

VOLVER: Following the accomplished but oddly remote BAD EDUCATION, Almodovar sinuously tempers the well-wrought melodrama of his recent work with the salacious, rapid-fire comedy of his vintage period. Penelope Cruz is outstanding, but the real return to form comes from Carmen Maura—it’s no coincidence that this may already be my favorite film of his next to the last picture he made with her, eighteen years ago. I’ll surely write more on this treat of a film in my year-end top ten. A

GREENPOINT, BROOKLYN

MIX: I'VE NEVER BEEN WRONG... I USED TO WORK IN A RECORD STORE*

July 2006: CD-R

01. Tompaulin, "Slender"
02. Ivy, "Get Out of the City"
03. Jen Trynin, "Better Than Nothing"
04. Black Box Recorder, "The Facts of Life"
05. Nellie McKay, "Ding Dong"
06. Stew, "Giselle"
07. Sufjan Stevens, "Chicago"
08. The Shins, "Saint Simon"
09. Weakerthans, "One Great City!"
10. Marit Bergman, "Tomorrow is Today"
11. Andrew Bird, "Fake Palindromes"
12. Belle and Sebastian, "Dress Up In You"
13. Sam Phillips, "I Wanted to Be Alone"
14. TV On the Radio, "Young Liars"
15. LCD Soundsystem, "Losing My Edge"
16. Goldfrapp, "Number 1"
17. The New Pornographers, "The Bleeding Heart Show"
18. Saint Etienne, "Teenage Winter"
19. The Futureheads, "Hounds of Love" (listed as "BONUS TRACK")

I have a friend named Bruce in New York City who always puts me up whenever I visit. I met him in my film group, and he's probably one of the few people I know who sees more movies than I do. He also used to be on top of new music, but hasn't listened to a whole lot in the past decade. Earlier this year, Bruce asked me to make a mix for him, and this is what I came up with.

Before I began gathering selections, he sent me an e-mail impressively detailing his tastes, dividing favorite songs into categories representing what he responds to in a piece of music (such as "clever lyrics", "complicated lyrics", "unique instrumentation", or just plain "sexy"). I skimmed through his e-mail twice and then went to work. I limited the selections to the previous decade or so (the oldest song is from 1994) to get him up to speed on what he's been missing. It also seemed natural for me to stick with the past decade because that's when my musical tastes blossomed and matured.

The title comes from a line spoken in LCD Soundsystem's epic, music-obsessive minimalist masterpiece--clocking in at nearly eight minutes, it sets a knowing tone that reverberates most strongly in Black Box Recorder's emphatic yet unsentimental ode to burgeoning adolescence. On the other end of the emotional spectrum, it's also present in Saint Etienne's poignant reflection of youth wistfully fading away.

Other than those slight echoes, there's no particular theme. Most of these songs are personal favorites that I remember falling in love with the first time I heard them: Tompaulin's gradually-building-in-momentum opener (also the first track on my introduction to the band), Ivy's breezy road trip anthem, Marit Bergman's exuberant, wall-of-sound proclamation, TV On the Radio's irresistible clash of soulful, guttural vocal and icy, sterile soundscape.

As I wrote last year, the first mix you make for someone is always risky. Fortunately, Bruce liked this one; apparently, so did a few of his friends and neighbors, as I found out when I visited him two months later. His favorite track ended up being the one by Belle and Sebastian. Probably my own favorite track of this year so far, I love its intricate lyrical twists, rich chord changes, and still classic-sounding (for a decade-old band) trumpet solo. Yet, I wasn't sure Bruce would-- you see, it was a last minute addition.

*(By the way, I've never actually worked in a record store.)

THIS IS NO DREAM! THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING!

I found this wonderful behind-the-scenes photo on my computer, and I don't remember where I acquired it. Anyhoo, I just re-watched this movie last night, and it remains one of the best horror films of any era. No excessive violence, no gore, very little blood, yet chilling, disturbing, unsettling and even hilarious on occasion. Here's something I wrote about it on the old blog. Happy Halloween.

4

This is one of the strangest films I've ever seen (and if you know me, that's saying something). 4 begins with a piano-tuner, a prostitute, and a slaughterhouse worker. Strangers to each other, they meet in a Moscow bar and converse for at least twenty minutes. All three create elaborate false identities for themselves as a half-awake bartender refills their glasses. One speaks about a Soviet human cloning conspiracy and the significance of the number 4. This part of the film is formally rigid and disciplined in its editing and composition.

Afterwards, the three patrons leave the bar and go their separate ways. A good chunk of the film follows the prostitute, Marina, who travels miles and miles to a remote village where her twin sister has just died. At this point, 4 gradually starts to descend into a surreal, nearly grotesque madness, teeming with hand-held camera shots, drunken, demented old ladies and handmade dolls with faces composed of chewed bread (yes, chewed bread--you can't make this stuff up). All the while, patterns of four appear on screen: four sisters, four airplanes, four tanks, etc;

Director Ilya Khrjanovsky is a talent to watch. He's clearly (and intelligently) commenting on the cultural divide between Western and Eastern Russia, and how repetition and disclosure relate to it. 4 makes a relatively polished Russian film such as THE RETURN look like LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE, which is to say, it's not for everyone. Although it tested my patience at times, it's also fascinating and bewildering like a 1970s Werner Herzog film and that's a compliment... but I'll just give it 3.5 stars (out of 5)

LITTLE CHILDREN and MARIE ANTOINETTE

Alexander Payne’s sharp, wickedly funny adaptation of Tom Perrotta’s novel ELECTION remains one of the best-ever book-into-film conversions. A long-belated follow-up to his great directorial debut IN THE BEDROOM, Todd Field’s adaptation of another Perrotta novel doesn’t scale the same heights, but it’s solid and far from a disappointment.

Superficially, LITTLE CHILDREN is another malaise-in-suburbia critique. Both Sarah (Kate Winslet) and Brad (Patrick Wilson) are thirtysomethings who have young children, are in mismatched marriages, and aren’t entirely sure how they ended up there. Sarah has a Master’s in English but is now merely a housewife who can’t relate to the other, clone-like mothers at the neighborhood playground (or Richard, her older husband who has issues of his own). Brad is a stay-at-home dad and ex-law student half-heartedly trying to pass the bar exam after failing it twice. He gets little attention or genuine support from his wife Kathy (Jennifer Connelly), a career-preoccupied documentary filmmaker.

Following a series of playmates with their two children, Sarah and Brad fall deep into an impulsive, passionate affair and discover a connection that vindicates something lacking in their lives. However, what elevates the film beyond such well-tread territory is a near-total dearth of melodrama or Hollywood hokum. Perrotta co-wrote the screenplay with Field, and it retains the author’s understated satiric prose with subtlety and directness. Slightly frumpy but still beautiful, Winslet’s good, but Wilson is the standout—he’s exceptionally well-attuned to nuances and contradictions of his character. Dubbed “The Prom King” by the adoring neighborhood moms, Brad is the hunky ex-jock within grasp of an ideal, fulfilling life, but he doesn’t have the drive or self-confidence to go forward. Instead, he desires only to look back for approval from substitutes for the boys clubs of his youth (including a police football team he’s drafted into and a ragtag group of skateboarding teens).

Intertwined within all of this is a secondary narrative about Ronald (Jackie Earle Haley), a middle-aged man who has just served a prison term for exposing himself to a child. He is sent home to live with his aging mother in Brad and Sarah’s neighborhood; fear and disgust surface when he returns. This paranoia is most eloquently expressed about forty minutes into the film when he unexpectedly makes his first appearance onscreen that isn’t one of his mugshots plastered all over town. It’s one thing to witness the community’s collective revulsion (orchestrated in a scene worthy of Hitchcock); it’s another to see just how alarmingly aged and emaciated Haley looks thirty years after his BAD NEWS BEARS heyday. Fortunately, his presence goes beyond stunt casting and he gives a chilling, touching performance.

As in the novel, this is where the film becomes slightly problematic—the two storylines don’t always comfortably coalesce. Both Sarah and Brad develop somewhat tenuous links to the second narrative, and Ronald seems to be in this film just to say something about Sarah’s nature. LITTLE CHILDREN doesn’t arrive at an entirely convincing conclusion; it’s more like a head-on collision of comic and tragic outcomes. But Field and Perrotta at least treat all of their flawed characters with compassion—that very quality lifts this smart, intense film above the rest of its ilk.
(4 stars)

**********

Had I seen MARIE ANTOINETTE ten years ago, I would have walked out the theater flushed and excited, declaring it my favorite of the year. Now, I know a little better to lavish such praise on what is an interesting experiment, but nothing more. Of course, Sofia Coppola already made her masterpiece with LOST IN TRANSLATION (and THE VIRGIN SUICIDES comes close). Her unconventional biopic isn’t a complete failure; I’m not sure if it even knows what it wants to be.

The most thrilling parts involve music. I’ve always adored anachronisms in period pieces (it’s what keeps most of ‘em from being stodgy), and the moods Coppola conjures up here are exquisite, even transcendent, especially the parts scored to “Hong Kong Garden” or any of the three songs by previously unknown dream-poppers The Radio Dept. You couldn’t ask for a better Marie than Kirsten Dunst, who has managed to retain her luminous child-like qualities without seeming childish. Also, get a load of that great supporting ensemble: Steve Coogan, Shirley Henderson, Rip Torn, Judy Davis, forever gravelly-voiced Marianne Faithful (as Marie’s mum!) and Asia Argento in an head-turning turn as Madame du Barry.

The film is more concerned with fabulous décor and the pressure on Marie to give birth to an heir (no thanks to wet blanket Louis XVI, played an appropriately aloof Jason Schwartzman), than the impending French Revolution, which barely figures in here. Coppola has made an opulent, swooning spectacle that’s highly distinctive, daring, loads of fun, but lacking much of the weight of her first two features. And in the end, it’s not radical enough; although something close to a train wreck in parts, MOULIN ROGUE already did this sort of thing with much more feeling.
(3 stars)

THREE GRAVES (AND ONE HOME)

Forest Hills Cemetery, Labor Day 2006.

THE QUEEN

I'm convinced that Helen Mirren is capable of anything: She can quietly steal scenes in a Robert Altman ensemble piece (GOSFORD PARK), turn a recurring role into an icon (television's PRIME SUSPECT) and even survive an embarrassment like CALIGULA (I still can't wait to see her as an assassin in SHADOWBOXER). One year after her award-winning portrayal of Queen Elizabeth I in an HBO miniseries, Mirren fearlessly takes on Elizabeth II in director Stephen Frears' intriguing film about Princess Diana's untimely death in 1997 and the strange days that followed.

Not really a biopic of Elizabeth (or Diana), Frears and screenwriter Peter Morgan have instead crafted an intense, revealing examination of the British political climate of that time. Just months before the accident, Tony Blair (Michael Sheen) became the country's first Labour Prime Minister in nearly two decades. When he first meets with Elizabeth at the film's onset, he's not entirely familiar with the precise customs required between the Queen and her subjects, exemplifying how the public's attitude towards the monarchy has shifted in the late 20th Century. As national mourning over Diana swells, the monarchy's refusal to even submit a public statement about the dead Princess they've disowned (she and Charles divorced only one year before) makes them appear remote and out of touch. At Blair's urging and guidance, it's up to Elizabeth to address the public, respond to their outcry against her and reassure them during this national crisis.

Frears deftly incorporates a lot of news footage into the film, giving it a chilling, unforced authenticity. It also provides an interesting, if sometimes jarring contrast to the delightfully wrought conversations between Blair and Elizabeth. The screenplay has that carefully composed eloquence and wit of a stage play which most of the actors nail perfectly—especially Sheen (a breakthrough performance that aims to restore the success and idealism of Blair at his first term), James Cromwell (wonderful as grumpy, snide Prince Philip) and Heather McCrory, a scene-stealer as Blair's smart, acid-tongued wife Cherie. Still, Mirren effortlessly towers above them all. It's a role of a lifetime that she inhabits with subtlety and complete control. Her Queen is not a doughy Monty Python stereotype but a woman capable of driving a Range Rover across rugged terrain. Elizabeth II was born into a lifelong "job" she didn't entirely want, and here she's believably baffled by her country's reaction to her non-action. She eventually emerges triumphant, but not unscathed, and Mirren makes her small but significant transformation a beautiful thing to witness.
(4.5 stars)

THIS FILM IS NOT YET RATED

I approached this documentary with some skepticism, given the hype and glowing praise a number of my friends gave when they all saw it in Provincetown in June. Well, believe the hype--this is an absorbing film that will resonate with anyone who champions independent cinema. Director Kirby Dick has made a smart, provocative and ultimately disturbing expose of the MPAA. He examines the organization from all angles, using everything from the infographics and talking heads interviews to hiring a private eye to reveal a slew of alarming discrepancies between what the censors think we should see and what the public actually wants. His investigation is balanced yet intensely personal. The result is like a Michael Moore film without the cheap shots and incessant narcissism. Don't miss it. (5 stars)

HALF NELSON

Dan Dunne (Ryan Gosling), a young, white history teacher and girls’ basketball coach in a mostly black Brooklyn middle school would seem like the ideal mentor. Eschewing the required curriculum, he genuinely inspires his students to think about and apply historical events to their own lives. Lest you think this is going to be another DANGEROUS MINDS, however, it’s not long before we find out that Dan is also a drug addict. He tries to keep these two worlds separate, but isn’t always successful—before long, one of his students, tough, stone-faced Drey (Shareeka Epps), walks in on him getting high in the girl’s locker room after a game. Drey doesn’t rat Dan out, but she does tenuously forge a friendship with him.

The film’s crafty title refers to a wrestling move that consists of an opposing, interlocked force between two players that’s nearly impossible to break out of. We easily see the metaphor in Dan’s struggle to isolate (and compromise) his professional and private lives; it also applies to Drey. With her father’s absence unexplained, her mother working double shifts as an EMT, and her older brother incarcerated for dealing drugs, she drifts between Dan and her brother’s friend Frank (Anthony Mackie). He’s a fellow dealer who reaches out to her as a father figure, but like Dan, he’s not an entirely appropriate one for her.

After writing this film’s screenplay, director Ryan Fleck and his producer/co-writer Anna Boden adapted it into an exceptional short film called GOWANUS, BROOKLYN which I saw at the Independent Film Festival of Boston in 2004. Focusing primarily on Drey rather than Dan (Epps was in it but Gosling had yet to be cast), it was refreshing to see a filmmaker taking a cue from the minimalism/realism of Jim McKay’s wonderful OUR SONG, and it left me with high hopes for a feature-length version.

Fortunately, HALF NELSON doesn’t disappoint. With his brave, intricate, award-worthy performance, Gosling proves himself the ideal match for this material and newcomer Epps is a real discovery: both are so assured, yet so natural to the point of disappearing into their roles that they each seem startlingly real and make a challenging premise plausible. Mackie is also impressive; he gives depth to what in a lesser film would be just the rote part of the charming drug dealer. Tina Holmes (best known as Maggie from SIX FEET UNDER) is also good in a small role as Dan's ex-junkie ex-girlfriend.

Fleck has noted that the screenplay was born out of a frustration with the malaise hanging over America following Bush, 9/11 and the Iraq War. It’s referenced explicitly just once and subtly numerous times (particularly in a superb late scene where Dan visits his suburban family that’s absolutely heartbreaking for being so restrained yet dead-on), but this bleak, intelligent character study is not really about placing the blame for this malaise on anyone. For Dan and Drey, possible redemption and mere survival comes down to the strength and balance a friendship can provide. That the film carefully reaches this hopeful conclusion without ever seeming bogus or lapsing into cheap sentiment is what truly inspires. (5 stars)

HOMETOWN TRAVELOGUE (PART 2)

As promised, more pictures from my Milwaukee trip. We return on an idyllic Sunday morning devoid of the previous two days' humidity and overall grey milieu.


A stroll down Lafayette Hill towards the Lake, blocks away from my parents' first apartment.


Alterra at the Lake, a coffehouse in what was once the historic Milwaukee River Flushing Station.


The newly opened Milwaukee Public Market: certainly the city's most striking recent addition since the Calatrava wing at the Milwaukee Art Musuem.


The Boerner Botannical Gardens in Hales Corners. Perhaps the most beautiful, serene place I know...


Particularly this meadow, which makes me want to run off and frolic through it for days.


Finally: What the world needs now is submissive flora.


Scout Lake Park in Greendale: you can just imagine how lovely the autumn foilage is.


Downtown skyline from a passenger seat window on 1-94. The smokestack in the right foreground has an ad for Sprecher, the city's finest microbrew (and root beer).


Sadly, all the super-cool vintage shops are closed on Sunday evenings.

Some are permanently out-to-lunch on Mondays, too.

Speaking of lunch, we dutifully saved some room for homemade blueberry pie at Lulu's diner in Bay View. Not to mention some Sprecher root beer.

As glorious as any old ocean, in my opinion.

Treasure awaits those who seek it in the otherworldly ravines of Grant Park.

I leave the park and the city, anticipating strange, new adventures and possibilities.

HOMETOWN TRAVELOGUE (PART 1)

I returned to Milwaukee two weekends ago. I went primarily to see an old friend, although I guess I could also consider the city itself one at this point. I was last there in 2003, when I spent more than enough time (nine days!) flailing about old haunts, trying to recapture something long gone. On this visit, I knew better and stayed for just four nights. Having no expectations (apart from consuming as much frozen custard as possible) made the trip much more enjoyable. What follows is an abbreviated, idiosyncratic tour (is there any other kind?) in two parts. First up: Friday and Saturday.


We used to call the city buses Green Limousines because of their uniform color. The rickety older ones were decidedly un-tank-like.


Schlitz hasn't been brewed in the city it made Famous for nearly a quarter century, but the iconic signage remains omnipresent and celebrated.


Brady Street continues to gentrify, but we'll always have rummage sales and Peter Sciortino's Italian bakery.


Laura spots (and captures) a mighty sunflower on an unassuming city block.


The Times Cinema on Vliet St. We saw RUSSIAN DOLLS there on Friday night, and they even had an employee who somewhat resembled my theater's former programmer.


The hours I spent as a child searching for cool stones along the shores of Lake Michigan.


Klode Park in Whitefish Bay: overcast skies leave the winding path and the beach eerily empty on an August Saturday afternoon.


We were encouraged to "sign this car" (with magic markers) at Gallery Garage, an art show in someone's backyard where Laura had work on display


She purchased a funky, retro hat. But the even funkier car was not for sale... a shame, as they went so well together.


Given their tendency to make like two particular place setting items in the old Mother Goose tale, the massive spoon and maraschino cherry had to be fenced off at the Kopp's Frozen Custard in Glendale.


I take pride in my ethnic heritage on a street corner in Riverwest. Sadly, there was no bowling that day.


Do most of her clients struggle in vain to keep from making fun of her name? Is that to blame for the reduced price?


A moody stroll through gloomy Lake Park, along the bridge over the ravine; I can't imagine it appearing any other way.


And back to the Lake: light pokes through soupy grey skies as revelers gather to watch the gulls.

GROOVY LENGTHY MUSIC SURVEY

I saw this survey here two weeks ago and naturally had to do my own version. I omitted some of the questions, mostly those regarding emo and hip-hop (as I own next to none of either genre). If anyone else is inspired to complete it, let me know...

Name 5 wistful/bittersweet songs that come to mind:
Steve Wynn, “Morningside Heights”
The Kinks, “Waterloo Sunset”
Saint Etienne, “Teenage Winter”
Vince Guaraldi Trio, “Christmas Time is Here”
Ivy, "Edge of the Ocean"

The 4 Best Songs Ever Written:
The Go-Betweens, “Bye Bye Pride”
New Order, “Temptation”
The Magnetic Fields, “All My Little Words”
Belle and Sebastian, “Lazy Line Painter Jane”

3 Current Favorite Songs:
Marit Bergman with Cecelia Nordlund, “Adios Amigos!”
Pet Shop Boys, “Integral”
Goldfrapp, “Ooh La La”

Classic Early Evening Drinking Music:
Louis Prima and Keely Smith, Live From Las Vegas

3 All Time Faves That Never Get Old To You:
The Buggles, “Video Killed the Radio Star”
White Town, “Your Woman”
Stan Getz and Astrud Gilberto, “The Girl From Ipanema”

Song You Want To Play At Your Wedding:
The Hidden Cameras, "Ban Marriage"

Song You Want to Play At Your Funeral:
Jeff Buckley, “Hallelujah”

4 Records You Really Dug from 2005:
Saint Etienne, Tales From Turnpike House (UK version)
Kate Bush, Aerial
The Go-Betweens, Oceans Apart
Andrew Bird, The Mysterious Production of Eggs

4 Favorite Records From This Year So Far:
Belle and Sebastian, The Life Pursuit
Roisin Murphy, Ruby Blue
Regina Spektor, Begin To Hope
Neko Case, Fox Confessor Brings the Flood

5 Good Angry Songs:
Calexico, “All Systems Red”
Nellie McKay, “Sari”
Violent Femmes, “Kiss Off”
Kate Bush, “Get Out of My House”
Cibo Matto, “Birthday Cake”

One of Your Favorite Lyrics:
“Terribly rude to waiters / Overtips like Sinatra / Quite fond of Stiv Bators / She drops acid and goes to the Opera”—Stew, “Giselle”

5 Cover Songs Arguably Better Than the Original:
Emm Gryner, “Breathless” (The Corrs)
TV On the Radio, “Mister Grieves” (The Pixies)
Bryan Ferry, “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” (Bob Dylan)
The Flying Lizards, “Money (That’s What I Want)” (Barrett Strong)
Johnny Cash, “Personal Jesus” (Depeche Mode)

Great Dance Song You Maybe Never Realized Was a Great Dance song Back in the Day:
Talking Heads, “Once In a Lifetime”

Good Albums To Workout To:
XTC, Black Sea
The Disco Box
LCD Soundsystem

Good Album to Clean The House To:
Junior Senior, D-D-Don’t Stop the Beat

Good Dining Music:
Sam Phillips, A Boot and a Shoe

A Good Album To Have Sex To:
Massive Attack, Mezzanine

A Good Album To Put You In the Mood (that is Not Sade, Marvin Gaye or Barry White):
Junior Boys, Last Exit

Good Album To Sleep To:
Mazzy Star, So Tonight That I Might See

5 Good Rock Songs That You Can Dance To:
The Smiths, “What Difference Does It Make”
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, “Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?”
The Kinks, “You Really Got Me”
The White Stripes, “Seven Nation Army”
Ani DiFranco, “Shameless”

4 Good Dance Songs (any kind):
Madonna, “Ray of Light”
Toni Braxton, “Spanish Guitar (HQ2 extended mix)”
Saint Etienne, “He’s on the Phone”
Deee-Lite, “Groove is in the Heart”

Songs That Are Too Damn Sad:
Jill Sobule, “Rock Me to Sleep”
Portishead, “Biscuit”
Mr. Airplane Man, “How Long”
Rufus Wainwright, “Go or Go Ahead”

4 Happy, Life Affirming Songs:
Heaven 17, “Temptation”
Sleater-Kinney, “Step Aside”
Stars, “Reunion”
Puffy AmiYumi, “Love So Pure”

5 Great Love Songs:
Velvet Underground and Nico, “I’ll Be Your Mirror”
Lou Reed, “Satellite of Love”
The Judybats, “Ugly On The Outside”
The Delays, “Nearer Than Heaven”
Mekons, “Last Dance”

An Album Full of Tenderness:
Stevie Wonder, Innervisions

Song To Cheer Up A Friend:
Pet Shop Boys, “Se a Vida E (That’s The Way Life Is)"

Song To An Ex That Isn't Meanspirited:
Yaz, “Only You”

Song To An Ex That Is Kinda Meanspirited:
Fiona Apple, “Parting Gift”

Song to Listen to While in The Country Looking at Stars:
Pernice Brothers, “Discover a Lovelier You”

Song to lose your Mind to:
Troll, “Western”

Songs That Make You Feel Amped and Inspired:
New Radicals, “You Get What You Give”
Ivy, “The Best Thing”
Pizzicato Five, “Happy Sad”

Great Semi-Obscure B-side:
Blur, “Black Book” (from the Music is My Radar single)

Song That Makes You Miss Your Mom:
Carole King, “So Far Away”

Tough Break-Up Songs:
Tompaulin, “Slender”
A Girl Called Eddy, “The Long Goodbye”
Dionne Warwick, “Walk On By”

So Happy It Makes You Wanna Skip:
The Free Design, “I Found Love”

Feel No Shame: Great Current Pop Songs:
Gnarls Barkley, “Crazy”
Nelly Furtado, “Maneater”
KT Tunstall, “Black Horse and the Cherry Tree”

5 Desert Island Discs off the top of your head (30 sec clock):
Ivy, Apartment Life
Belle and Sebastian, If You’re Feeling Sinister
Brian Eno, Before and After Science
The Avalanches, Since I Left You
Saint Etienne, Smash The System: Singles and More

3 Artists That Were Your Faves 10 Years Ago:
Aimee Mann
Tori Amos
They Might Be Giants

Fave Electronic Record You Own:
DJ Shadow, Endtroducing…

Random Album You Loved In High School But Are Afraid To Admit It:
Janet Jackson, Rhythm Nation 1814

Album You May Have Listened To More In High School than Any Other Album:
The B-52’s, Cosmic Thing

If You Could Enter A Wrestling Ring to a Song It Would Be:
Europe, “The Final Countdown” (thanks to Arrested Development)

Album To Clear A Room With:
Need New Body, UFO

P-TOWN LOW DOWN

My reviews of what I saw at the Provincetown International Film Festival are up on the Chlotrudis website. I managed to catch 13 films in four days, including five documentaries, two mockumentaries, and only one foreign language film.

PIFF isn't nearly as expansive a festival as Toronto (which I'm skipping this year), but that doesn't matter when half the incentive to go is P-Town itself. Still, in its eighth year, it's one of New England's better film festivals, and possibly the best place in the region to see queer-focused cinema. Two of my three favorites don't yet have theatrical distribution; oddly enough, the one that does is the least commercial offering I saw at the fest.

MIX: THE TRIP (PART ONE)

March 2005: CD-R

01. The BellRays, "They Glued Your Head On Upside Down"
02. Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, "Where Have All The Rude Boys Gone"
03. Scissor Sisters, "Take Your Mama"
04. Kings of Convenience, "I'd Rather Dance With You"
05. Moloko, "The Time is Now"
06. Mark Mothersbaugh, "Ping Island/Lightning Strike Rescue Op"
07. Roxy Music, "Love Is the Drug"
08. Heaven 17, "Temptation"
09. Basement Jaxx, "Red Alert"
10. Bjork, "Triumph of a Heart"
11. Jennifer Trynin, "Better Than Nothing"
12. A.C. Newman, "Miracle Drug"
13. The Dandy Warhols, "You Were The Last High"
14. Tegan and Sara, "Take Me Anywhere"
15. Hello Goodbye, "Pussycat"
16. Junior Senior, "C'Mon"
17. PJ Harvey and Gordon Gano, "Hitting the Ground"
18. Belle and Sebastian, "I'm a Cuckoo"
19. The Futureheads, "Hounds of Love"
20. Santa Esmeralda, "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood"

For a friend's 30th birthday (exactly one day and one month after my own), I made a double disc mix CD. It was blatantly modeled on a series of commercially available mixes with the same title. Each set was curated by a particular band or DJ, including one of my favorites. The general concept behind each edition was for the first disc to consist of peppy, upbeat music you'd hear in a club, while the second disc would include songs to "come down" to--stuff you'd want to hear after you returned home, kicked off your shoes, and lounged on the couch with a glass of pinot.

Thus, this is the party disc--or, as I originally wrote to the recipient, "music to listen to while preparing to get out of the apartment". With the one-two blast of The BellRays' Aretha Franklin-fronting-a-garage-band rave up and Ted Leo's raucous, rollicking tribute to The Specials, Thin Lizzy and Pete Townshend, this is also an exemplary mix for waking up to. I admit to playing it on my iPod on more than a few saggy-eyed morning commutes.

Despite the concept, this feels like a true, varied mix to me. What kind of logic puts a sweeping, quiet-loud-quiet electro/orchestral instrumental track from THE LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZISSOU next to Bryan Ferry's finest moment, a dated but irresistibly funky/geeky critique of the mid-70's singles bar scene? Why does The Futureheads' exuberant, jagged post-punk cover of a Kate Bush anthem lead into a ridiculous yet sublime ten minute flamenco-disco cover of an Animals song? How to explain the existence of Hello Goodbye (an obscure, squeaky, delightful trash-rock combo I had to review for Splendid) or Junior Senior (straight/gay, thin/fat male duo that actually had a great minor hit with "Move Your Feet")? Well, in that last case, they are two quirky tastes that taste fabulous next to each other, plus both are Scandanavian, love The B-52's and are completely bonkers.

It all goes back to feeling; the goal was simply to not be able to sit still while listening to this mix. Hearing it now and struggling in vain not to physically give in to PJ Harvey singing the shit out of a song Gordon Gano should've saved for the next Violent Femmes album, I say mission accomplished.