Musings, a little bit of this and that.
Home Show Times Coming Soon Contact Us
1/6/13
|
Through judicious booking and a policy requiring children under 16 to be accompanied after 6:00 P. M., PJ has “cultivated” an upscale and delightful clientele. So…….. the other day when Rob, his booker, called and asked if he wanted to book Django, PJ declined. “Rob,” said he, “I don’t want the guns, the shooting, the blood, and the death……….and, I don’t want the crowd that Django would bring into the theater.” So, instead, he held Lincoln and booked Les Miserables, two “upscale” flicks. Well, several days later when Django got nominated five times by the Golden Globes, PJ started second-guessing himself. “Hmmm,” he thought, “maybe I’m being overly cautious…..After all, Tarantino is an important film maker.” Well, several days after that New Town happened. PJ, as were we all, was deeply saddened, and actually said, “Now I’m glad I stuck to my guns.” Whereupon he thought, “Geesh, we can’t even get the guns out of our idioms.” Anyway, the other day he walked into Lincoln to check the sound and the focus…..and…BOOM…he’s been assassinated, shot in the head. He turned, walked out of that theater and went to check on Les Mis. And what did he see? Guns, shooting, blood, and death. And now, he’s confused. PJ doesn’t believe in censorship. He believes in good choices. But making good movie choices is kind of complicated. Don’t you think? Making good movie choices is kind of complicated. Don’t you think? |
10/13/12
| Recently PJ had a heartfelt conversation
with an empty chair. He imagined that the famous
actor/director/political activist Clint Eastwood was sitting in the
chair. The conversation went something like this: Gee, Clint, what were you thinking when you made your big splash at the Republican National Convention? Sure, the empty chair was a clever device, the crowd ate it up, and, yeah, you had your biggest audience ever, but you know what, you must have forgotten about the opening of your new movie, Trouble with the Curve. What’s that? You don’t care about your movie? Why’d you make it then? Heck, this one was actually rather charming. It didn't even contain one rape scene. Well, OK, you’re right, maybe it did have the suggestion of a child molestation, but nothing graphic. And no suicides or pulling the plug scenes. There wasn't even any torture or brutality. You know Amy Adams and John Goodman complemented you so well. It was actually a lovely, sentimental movie. Oh, come on, you should care. You do know, Clint, Democrats buy movie tickets as well. What’s that? You don’t give a rat’s whatchacallit about them. Well, then perhaps you should consider those nice people at Warner Bros. who spent all that money distributing your movie. And let me tell you, Clint, I can’t remember one of your movies ever flopping like this one did. You kind of killed your picture. It died a quicker death at PJ’s than you did in Gran Torino. Oh, come on, Clint, take that back. Wow, you certainly have become an old curmudgeon. |
9/7/12
| Whenever PJ shows a movie or documentary
with political implications, the party loyalists come out of the
woodwork. They’ll call and demand he show one movie. And then
they’ll call and demand he not show another. On one occasion within
a mere five minute span of time, PJ actually received two phone
calls wherein the first caller suggested he was too conservative to
show one movie and the second caller suggested he was too liberal to
show another. PJ supposes the first amendment extends only as far as
his patrons’ opinions go. It has even been suggested that he is
perhaps un-American. Anyway, he is thinking it is good that this conduct does not extend to other professions. He can see it now: Doctors, lawyers, plumbers, garage mechanics all asking to see your party affiliation papers before they provide their services. We’d be in an even bigger mess than Congress what with plumbers and the like not reaching across the aisle with their wrenches while we’re flooding. Sorry, you need to go to the Conservative garage. Oops, sorry, this is the Liberal hospital. Hey, bud, no neo-cons here. That all being said PJ figured he’d go in and see what the 2016: Obama’s America was all about. Well, he wants you to know the movie really angered him. Twenty-six people and not one popcorn or soda among them. These political junkies have the nerve to go to the movies and not eat junk food. How anti-business is that? Now who’s un-American? Huh? |
6/26/12
| For years PJ has been doing the “tape
recorded message”, although, alas, it too these days is digital.
Most often it is recorded from his desk at home where he gives a
“bit of a narrative” about the movies as well as, of course, the
movie times. He talks to you, each of you, just as if you were there
with him at the box office. Over the years the popularity of the message has grown. 928-3456 receives tens of thousands of calls each month. Old patrons have told PJ when they are back in town visiting relatives that even though they have relocated to Wyoming or where ever, they still call the “tape” to see what they should see. They trust in PJ. He tells which movies his patrons enjoy, and he doesn’t “puff.” In fact, there was the time when he got in trouble with one of the distributors which shall remain nameless for advising his patrons to avoid a certain movie. “If you want to play our product,” they suggested, “you better stop panning them.” And so now, he says little about a movie that is better off unseen. If he gives the title and times only, you can probably skip that one. Anyway, the other day this woman approached PJ, wagged a finger in his face, and said, “Don’t ever stop doing your message.” He felt kind of proud until she added, “My parrot won’t go to sleep at night unless I put you on speaker phone.” Chagrined, he was reminded, once again, not to be letting his head get too swollen. |
4/5/12
| Well, after 100 or
so days of planning, getting up at 3:30 A. M., arranging for all
kinds of financing, scrapping a zillion dollars worth of perfectly
good yet obsolete film equipment, and much, much more to begin
discussing here........... The PJ Cinemas is now totally digital. Out with the film, and in with the hard drives. In with the servers and monitors and remote access. In with digital keys. And out with the moving parts. Perhaps one day PJ will get accustomed to the change. One thing for certain is sure: After 45 years of film, the first part of his life is now officially over. Times change. Society evolves. PJ suspects technology is the culprit. He can still remember as a kid sitting in the back seat of his family car, a 1950 Ford, and passing a broken-down, old jalopy on the side of the road. "Get a horse!" his father yelled out the window. After all, it wasn't that many years earlier than 1950 that "horse power" was the literal mode of transport. And then there were the ma and pa video rental stores on every corner. And once, there were records, you know, with "flip sides", and albums, with great artwork on the covers. And now, what isn't digital? "Certainly not the PJ Cinemas," thinks PJ somewhat double negatively. Yet, vestigial remnants linger in our language. We still say "record", we still "dial" the phone, and, yes, we still call them films. PJ is thinking that it is not a giant turtle supporting the weight of the earth as he has heard is the belief of Native Americans, but instead it is ones and zeros. He's also thinking we are one big sunspot away from a fine mess. Conversation overheard at the box office by two female patrons neither of which was carrying a purse while on their way out of the theater after having pre-purchased tickets for the next show of the Hunger Games: "Where should I put my ticket?" asked the first. "Put it in your bra," replied the second. "I'm not wearing one," responded the first with matter of factness as she exited the door. |
1/30/12
| After 100 years of
traveling a foot-and-a-half a second, 24 frames per second, it
appears that 35 mm. film will become totally obsolete within the
coming year. And, thus.......so will 35 mm. projectors and film
delivery systems. PJ has already begun the conversion-to-digital process. Not easy for a guy who is still very much analog. How analog, you ask? Well, he doesn't even have a cell phone and never intends to text. But, here he goes. Embarking into a new era--the era of digital cinema. And.......as difficult as it is for PJ to bid farewell to 35 mm. film, it is apparently cause for others to take note as well: Martin Scorcese's Hugo, PJ believes, is an homage to the departure of not only all things mechanical, but specifically to film and movie projectors. Hugo's closing scenes of very early black and white and silent movies sent nostalgic chills through PJ's soul which still partially resides somewhere in the sprockets of the 35 mm. projectors being sent to the trash heap. And.......of course, there is The Artist. Michael Hazanavicius, the writer and director of this black and white and silent piece, is also paying similar tribute. It is no mere coincidence that this year's two most celebrated movies are themselves celebrations of the flickering, 24 frame-per-second process known as film projection. Once the conversion to digital cinema is complete and all the projectors are gone, PJ is wondering if they'll still call them films? |
10/20/11
| Well, it has been
a few weeks since PJ has written anything. He’s still recovering
from his undiagnosed Italian adventure illness. Several weeks ago while in Italy he picked up some kind of bronchial bug, and although he is feeling much better, he’s got absolutely zero energy. That being said, there are a few things he’d like to write about. So, here goes……. First, he was surprised to learn that just like the Chinese food we eat is unlike what is actually eaten in China, so it is with Italian food. Italian grandmothers apparently do not stay home all day and stir tomato sauce. This is an American phenomenon. In Italy sauce is made with a sautéed tomato. And then there is the grated cheese thing. You know, the waiter comes to the table with some sort of gadget and says, “Cheese?” Well, this is not done in Italy. Grated cheese is apparently rarely if ever sprinkled over food. And then there is Rome. Every inch of this city is sitting upon layers and layers of ancient stuff. That is probably why they don’t build new. Once an ancient layer is unearthed and revealed, construction would give way to the archaeologists. And then there is Venice. Several years ago the population of Venice was 160,000. Now it is 40,000. Why the decline? The city, it seems, floods 100 days of the year and the water is rising or the city is sinking one millimeter per year. It is kind of yucky. Smelly too. And the Venetians are leaving. So, what to do? Well, PJ has come up with a great idea to save the city and to get Italy out of its one trillion Euro debt. Venice ought to be sold to an investment group for the one trillion Euro and it should be developed into: Venice, the theme park and gambling capital of Europe. A combination Las Vegas and Disney World. It’s a win-win. What are they waiting for? And then there is The David. PJ swears he breathes. Amazing. Anyway, enough about Italy….. Let’s do the movies. One in particular. PJ loved The Ides of March. It was disappointing for him to learn that politics is not all that ethical. What was he thinking? The movie is one of those rare smart, taut, and suspenseful flicks. It has the highest of production values. And the cast. Even the small parts are peopled by the best. George Clooney, Ryan Gosling, Marisa Tomei, Paul Giamatti, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Evan Rachel Wood. It is a spellbinder about politics, leverage, and power. PJ especially enjoyed the final scene between two of the top guys. What a game of political poker played they. The looking into each other’s eyes. The decision whether one was being bluffed. Really good stuff. Don’t miss it. By the way, PJ has noticed that without any real fanfare, Ryan Gosling has risen to the top echelon of big-name stars. It just kind of happened. Poof……there he is: Ryan Gosling, super-star. An overnight success after about 20 years of trying. PJ must admit he’s got that certain unidentifiable something that transcends the movie screen. He even out-Cloonied George. Way to go, Ryan. |
10/4/11
| There aren’t too
many certainties in this life. Let‘s see. There is death. Taxes. Tattoos…… And, of course, vacations, which in PJ’s case always seem to go awry. How could he ever forget, for example, the 1991 cruise to Bermuda? He can still clearly recall the headline on the Bermuda Gazette: Cruise From Hell Arrives Safe. And a Cruise from Hell it was. PJ was reluctant to board the Nordic Prince in the first place. And for good reason. Hurricane Bob was brewing somewhere out in the Atlantic. He was assured, however, by the ship’s officers on the Manhattan gangplank that the Prince would “go east and then south” to avoid the storm. Boy, were they wrong. Twelve hours of 100 mph winds and 65 foot seas. Twelve hours of heeling 39.5 degrees to one side and 39.5 to the other. That’s 78 degrees of swing and then a huge, smashing plunge into the trough, the ship’s propeller careening wildly out of the water. Millions of dollars of damage to the ship. Uncalulable traumatic damage done to the passengers let alone the crew. The knowledge that 41 degrees was the capsizing threshold. Slot machines that slammed down inches from PJ’s head. The absence of gravity causing people to stand at impossible angles. Yup. The Nordic Prince. Hurricane Bob. 1991. The Cruise from Hell. And then ten years later almost to the day, September 11, 2001.….. PJ is in the air on his way to Fort Lauderdale to visit his brother. It’s a beautiful morning. Crystal clear. And then. The loud speaker crackles. It is the captain who in a Southern drawl explains that there has been some terrorist activity in Washington D. C., and he has been directed to immediately suspend the flight at the closest airport. Mute shock in the aisles. The plane is grounded. Of course PJ is clueless because he is the only person on board without a cell phone. (No, he does not have one. He intends to have this stated on his headstone.) Anyway, one particularly grim passenger concludes his call, and PJ asks him what has happened. He’ll never forget the guy’s face nor the reply, “You know the Twin Towers? They’re gone. Gone.” More mute shock. Well, the plane landed in Orlando and the passengers were transported by ground to Fort Lauderdale where the bus was prohibited from entering the airport by camouflaged Guardsmen with machine guns. PJ’s brother finally was granted permission to pick him up. What a grim time for the country. Even the return trip was delayed for quite a few days until the skies were finally reopened to air traffic. Yup. September 11, 2001. And then ten years later almost to the day, September 12, 2011.…….. PJ and Mrs. PJ journey to Italy. Sorrento, Capri, The Amalfi Coast, Naples, Rome, The Vatican, Florence, Sienna, and Venice. He’s not drinking enough water. Perhaps a bit too much vino. He’s walking about ten miles a day. The Meditteranean sun is scalding even in September. Dehydration sets in. Flu-like symptoms as well. And where does this happen? In Venice. Not a good place to get sick. There aren’t any streets. The hotel calls for a doctor who arrives on the water-taxi-ambulance. The non-English speaking doctor comes to treat the non-Italian speaking PJ. It’s about ten O’clock P. M. Via translation PJ is told to go to the hospital if the symptoms do not improve by the morning. Why should they improve? Because the doctor gives him something that resembles an Alka Selter tablet. It fizzes in the glass of water. He says it should reduce the fever. He gives Mrs. PJ a prescription for the stuff. He says take one giant pill every four hours. The next day when the prescription is filled, the Farmacist says it is very strong and to only take one every 24 hours. So, PJ tries to buy aspirin instead, but they don’t carry the stuff. They never heard of it. Meanwhile he is still annoyed at the doctor who refused to sign off on permission for him to come home early. No permission, no insurance coverage. No early departure. PJ had to wait it out in the hotel bed for the last couple of days. The flight was excruciating. And, by the way, what is with the Al Italia flight crew? They sure do not enjoy their work. And they make sure no one else enjoys the fight either. Well, finally PJ made it back home where he belongs. He’s on the mend now, catching up on the movies, selling tickets, and wondering whether or not he should skip the September, 2021 vacation. |
|
So, summer’s winding down. |
|
In the
what-goes-around-comes-around category PJ was amused this week
to usher in Spy Kids 4D replete with “Aroma-scopes”. |
|
Special thanks to Frank Barning, baseball expert, for correcting PJ. It was Walter O'Malley who moved the Dodgers to Los Angeles. Alston, of course, was the manager, and not responsible for the move. Still, PJ's father was angry with all levels of management. He lumped them all into the same category. Dem Bums. Thanks, Frank. Phil. |
|
PJ just saw The Help. He’s thinking it is kind of
ironic that he just wrote about Emma Stone a week or so ago in a
different context. Emma, he stated, has always portrayed
kooky-type characters in supporting roles. And, she’s stolen
every scene she’s ever been in. It is the dawn of the Civil
Rights Movement. Medgar Evers is about to be assassinated in his
driveway. Dogs and billy clubs are about to rip into bone and
flesh on the Edmund Pettus Brige in Montgomery. When Levittown was built, you
see, each house came with a covenant that no Blacks were
permitted to rent or own. It also had a restriction against
fences. Well, it wasn’t too long before almost every house had a
fence. But the other restriction held fast. |
|
There have been some pretty good
movies these past two weeks. The Cowboys first: |
|
For years, PJ has had the good
fortune to not only have great patrons, but also a great staff.
He recently asked some of the staff if they’d like to write a
“guest piece”. And thus, presented to you, is: Now, all of these jobs rotate, it
doesn’t really matter who does what, as long as everything gets
clean. In four years of working at P.J Cinemas, there have been
many interesting things that have ended up in my broom bucket. I
can remember my fifteen year old self being astonished when I
swept up cocktail shrimp... without the cocktail sauce, but that
is besides the point. Anyway- enjoy the show. Oh, and
here is a picture of the whipped cream swirls. Sincerely, Christina the
jumbo-layered-popcorn-with-extra-butter-on-top, girl.
|
|
PJ’s mind has been racing around
once again just like that proverbial bat flying in the cave.
Here are a few of his near-miss crash-into-the-wall thoughts……. |
|
PJ is often asked what his
favorite movie is…. Favorites are hard. Any
favorites. Movies. Books. Meals. Any favorites. We all have likes and dislikes.
But, the most liked? The most disliked? It is difficult to say. There is one movie, though, that
so mirrors PJ’s life that it is never far from his thoughts. |
|
Over the years PJ has developed a
reputation for being somewhat of an easy mark, and, so, he is
visited almost daily by individuals seeking contributions for
their organizations. Let’s do the Chinese Auction
first……. |
|
PJ is still thinking about Midnight in Paris.... How about that opening montage? Each frame captures a scene which strikes a familiar chord. Woody Allen must have told the cinematographer, Darius Khondji, to research great Parisian paintings hanging in museums, and then go photograph them live. Great job. A word about Alice B. Toklas…. She was the love of Gertrude Stein’s life. PJ did a bit of research of his own and learned that the word “toke” is most likely derived from Alice’s last name. As most of us know, the “girls” engaged in quite a bit of marijuana use. A learned patron informed PJ that Ernest Hemingway once famously stated that Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn was the root of all American literature. Well, in the movie, it is Owen Wilson who suggests this thought to Hemingway when the latter asks him how he feels about Twain. Woody Allen would have us believe that it was the time traveler who coalesced Ernest’s high regard for Twain‘s work. Similarly, Owen Wilson suggests to Luis Brunuel the plot for a surrealist movie that this French movie maker would one day create, a movie about dinner guests who are unable to leave the room. Ironically, Bruneul tells Wilson that he doesn’t understand why they cannot leave. He appears puzzled. Intrigued and puzzled. Apparently, though, he‘ll figure it out. PJ is embarrassed to admit he had never heard of Bruneul, but is appreciative that Woody Allen motivated him to do some additional digging on this subject. Woody Allen, while in Paris filming the movie, was having dinner with the French President, Nicolas Sarkozy, and his wife, Carla Bruni. When she expressed an interest to be in the movie, Allen wrote her a part. She is the museum guide. And a good looking one too, the super model that she is. It seems that French officials and Woody Allen movies are always surrounded by and populated with beautiful women. PJ is thinking that there is an entire semester’s worth of material for a college level class to be found in Midnight in Paris. Midnight in Paris 101, if you will.
And now, some box office exchanges and loose odds and ends……….
To which he replies, “Oui.”
To which she responds, “No, just one.”
You had to be there.
“I hope you don’t have 3D there,” the caller said. To which PJ replied, “No, madam, we only length and width. Ain’t no depth here.” “Thank goodness for that,” was the response from the relieved caller.
Since PJ has been painting portraits, his fascination for the human face has intensified. Lately he has found himself looking deeply into people’s faces. And what has he seen? Well, one thing, he’s noticed that Lady Liberty, yes, the Statue of Liberty, is wearing Elvis’s face. Check it out. She’s got his pouty lips and the same sultry expression. If the angle is just right, she’s Elvis. So, PJ mentions his discovery to the staff. They instantly go to the Google. And, yup, there they are, side by side, on some website that some guy posted who made the same discovery. No joke. See for yourself. Elvis and Lady Liberty. Geesh.
PJ was talking to the staff the other day about his favorite sounds in the movies. He asked them to think of the greatest sounds in movie history. He’s thinking now that there are probably a hundred and fifty websites devoted to this, as well. But he didn’t look. Perhaps you could. Anyway, here are a few of the great sounds we came up with in the 30 or so seconds that the conversation lasted: -The strident, discordant, and repetitive sound during the shower scene in the original Psycho. PJ supposes that each individual chord was a knife thrust. Ouch, and thank you, Alfred. -Going back a long way, PJ remembers being scared to death during the original War of the Worlds. He was about 6 years old, his father was the projectionist, and he had to sit through the movie about two and a half times before he could go home. Pure torture. Pure horror. (This might explain a lot, he’s thinking right now.) Anyway….the alien spacecraft had a laser type weapon that emitted not only an explosive death ray, but also a horrifying noise. To a six-year-old anyway. -And what about those light sabers that Luke and Darth liked to play with? PJ remembers reading about twenty years ago how Industrial Light and Magic made those noises. It was done by twanging a wire that was stretched to just the right tension. Can’t you hear that buzz right now? mbzzzzzz. -And then, of course, there is the foreboding boom-boom, boom-boom along with the French horns signifying an imminent shark attack. Quick, everyone out of the water. So…..do you have any contributions? Please let us know. |
|
OK, so here’s the inevitable piece about
Midnight in Paris…….and……if you don’t want to know the plot,
don’t be reading it. Until after you see it, that is.
Woody Allen’s latest contains so much material and so many
artistic and literary images both visual and verbal, that PJ
has been unable to stop thinking about it. Nor has he been
able to digest it all. It seems that every frame of the
movie reminds him of a great work of art he’s once seen.
He’s going to have to see the movie again with a light, a
pen, and paper so he can take notes. It is just that chock
full of great stuff. Way too much to remember.
His ruminating continues, however, and in lieu of Maalox,
perhaps writing about it will help it settle in……..
Now, where to begin……. Well, perhaps he should start this
way:
Had you been listening, you might have heard PJ often say that there are three undeniable rules in life:
1. You always want what you ain’t got.
2. The anticipation is better than the real thing.
3. And……once you get it, it stinks.
Well, in a way this adage relates to Midnight in Paris.
The main character is portrayed by Owen Wilson. Years
earlier Woody Allen would have played the part, but, alas,
time’s onslaught has limited Woody’s role to writer and
director. And that is a good thing. Midnight in Paris, PJ
is thinking, is better served by Owen Wilson’s syrupy
sincerity than Woody’s nattering neuroses. Wilson
time-travels to 1920’s Paris. It just happens. It felt
exactly the same as in Jack Finney’s Time and Again, a great
book. Instead of that room in The Dakota though, it is a
big art-deco limo that noiselessly glides him into the 20’s.
Anyway, Owen is Gil Pender, a writer struggling with his
craft. He romanticizes, perhaps even obsesses, about 1920’s
Paris. He is inspired by and we get to see and/or hear
about Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Zelda, Gertrude Stein,
Dali, Picasso, Modigliani, Braque, and others. We even get
a brief glimpse of Josephine Baker.
Gil is enamored with them all. And so are we. Kathy Bates is Gertrude
Stein. She sits at her desk beneath her portrait. Her
hands beneath her hands. Adrien Brody is a sublime Salvador
Dali. Hemingway is a doozy. And the others…….they are just
too numerous to mention. PJ is reminded of the old
admonition to hold your applause till the end. Well, that
applies here. One is better than the next. They are Gil’s
heroes. And Gil wants what he ain’t got: He wants to live
amongst them. To be one of them. Back then. Gil is an
artist. A dreamer. He’s comfortable with these people.
They inspire him. And, they like him.
As often happens though, opposites attract. In his real
life, Gil is engaged to be married. Inez, played by Rachel
McAdams, shares none of his dreams, nor does she appreciate
them. The daughter of wealthy card carrying Tea Party
parents, she is more a material kind of girl. Inez’s parents
do not like Liberals, Communists, or the French. And
certainly, they are not very fond of Gil. Nor his
aspirations.
And then irony happens. Gil the time traveler breathes in
the fragrant aura of Picasso’s mistress. This babe has been
around the rue a time or two having earlier been involved
with Modigliani and Braque. Adriana, played by Marion
Cotillard who was Edith Piaf in La Vie en Rose, is likewise
attracted to Gil.
She is Gil’s dream girl living in Gil’s dream era. But, aha (spoken
with a French accent) Adriana dreams of La Belle Epoque.
You see, her dream era is the Paris of the 1890’s. Paris,
she believes, was so much more elegant back then. No smelly
automobiles. So much more Nouveau. She wishes not to
reside in 1920’s Paris with Gil. Instead, she wishes to
“travel” with him to this earlier, “better” era.
And it is this part, dear reader, that corresponds, kind of,
to item number 3 above. Adriana is stuck where Gil wants
to be, and she, who already lives there, wants to go
elsewhere.
Isn’t anybody ever happy where they are? Nostalgia, thus,
is actually a rejection of what we have and fail to
appreciate. Or so says Woody.
Gil gets it at the end.
He can still be inspired by the greats of the past, but he
realizes that he ought to make the most of what he has.
Because really his “now” is all he’s got.
So, he ups and leaves Inez and settles for the Paris of
2011. And settle into Paris he does.
Woody Allen would have us believe it is the city, itself,
that inspires. Whatever the era. It inspired Gil to shed
his shackles and follow his dreams. And Woody tells the
tale with great charm.
Yet PJ is frightened for Gil. Will the 3 rules continue to
apply? Will he again start yearning for another time?
Another place? For something he ain‘t got?
Who knows? But if eventually he becomes disenchanted with
Paris, maybe he’ll be inspired to write a great book about
his search.
Art and literature, after all, not unlike comedy, often
originate from pain. From disenchantment. And if Gil
starts longing once again for what he ain’t got, maybe he
will finally write that great book.
Hey, PJ is wondering, maybe we’ve each got a great book or
picture inside us waiting to get out.
Anyway, at this juncture PJ is wondering if you will excuse
him. He has to get to work on his next portrait.
Oh, and by the way, here it is.
|
|
PJ, old English teacher that he is, knows for
sure that if one is to write interesting stuff, one must
write about what he or she knows.
This adage holds true with movies as well. Want to make a
good movie? Then know what you are talking about. Know
your material.
That being said, PJ was excited about two of this week‘s
opening flicks. He was eager to see them both. Woody
Allen’s Midnight in Paris and J. J. Abrams’s Super 8. So,
when the 1:00 matinee rolled around, he was conflicted.
Which to see?
Well, for some unknown reason, he opted for the change of
pace. Woody was going to have to wait. Super 8 it was.
And it was a darn good choice.
Super 8, despite all kinds of analysis, criticism, and
review from the critics, is a labor-of-love movie. PJ can
recognize the type immediately. One of those movies that a
film-maker spends a lifetime thinking about. An homage, if
you will. PJ kind of dislikes using that word. Sounds so
pretentious. So French. But, nevertheless, that’s exactly
what it is. A tribute to Steven Spielberg’s 80’s type
films, and to young moviemakers everywhere.
J. J. Abrams must have watched Spielberg’s movies a million
times. It is apparent he loved them. And knew them. Very
well.
Yes, he certainly knows what he’s talking about here.
It’s got to be autobiographical, too. PJ would bet his
bottom dollar that J. J. made movies on his super 8 camera
when he was a kid. He’d also bet that he loved E. T.,
Gremlins, The Goonies, Close Encounters, Poltergeist, and,
though not a Spielberg movie, Stand by Me.
Super 8 most resembled The Goonies, one of PJ’s all-time
favorites. Remember those kids? What a bunch of misfits
they were. They were of an age where innocence and wonder
still abounded. PJ always wondered why Spielberg never made
a series of Goonie movies. It even has a good ring to it,
GoonieMovies. Like the Bowery Boys. Or the Little
Rascals. What a shame. The characters were great. The
villains delicious. The adventures wondrous.
Super 8 captures that spirit, the spirit of E.T.’s bicycle.
It’s got thrills, chills, and laughs. And even sweet
adolescent romance. All you need to do is check your brains
at the door, sit down, and revisit the wonder of the
darkened cinema. And your youth.
PJ remembers another wonderful movie-maker, another lover of
movies. Perhaps you do as well. Keith Dinielli was PJ’s
right hand throughout the 80’s. As a youngster Keith spent
so much time at the theater, that PJ just had to hire him.
He loved the business. Eventually he ran the place.
And he made movies, too. PJ can still recall brainstorming
with Keith about his first amateur film. Of course, the
super 8 era had given way to the relative ease of video and
Keith’s Changeover was not only charming, but it also was
enacted by the theater staff and friends. Just like the
amateur film made by the kids in Super 8.
Who could ever forget the scene in Changeover where Mark S.
was sweeping the theater and found a half-empty bag of M &
M’s. When no body was looking, Mark wolfed them down. Yes,
Keith also wrote about what he knew, the operation of a
movie theater. And running a movie theater is not a job, it
is a lifestyle. It gets in your blood.
From there, Keith went on to a full length version of
Changeover which was filmed at the old Suffolk Theater on
Main Street, Riverhead. And from Main Street Keith went on
to George Lucas’s film school at USC. Keith is still in the
business.
The business of film and entertainment.
How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice, man, practice.
And that is what J. J. Abrams did. That’s what Keith did.
That’s what young moviemakers still do.
They practice. They get it right. They develop their
skills. And often their movies just celebrate the joy of
young fun. Super 8 and Changeover do just that.
And this Friday it sure was fun for PJ to go back to those
pre-texting days when kids were still kids.
Those days are missed, and, sadly, so is this
genre of film
|
|
In an earlier column PJ jokingly suggested that
everything he learned in life came from three sources:
The Beatles,
Ms. Pac Man,
and, of course, the movies.
This suggestion would have been more accurate, however, had he
added two additional sources: his travels and his readings.
Let’s talk……
Having recently been to Barcelona, PJ saw first-hand the
architecture of Gaudi and the art of Dali, Picasso, and Miro.
Prior to the trip pretty much everything he knew about this
magical city was learned from Vicki Cristina Barcelona. In
fact, it was Woody Allen’s movie that made the trip necessary in
the first place.
Well, sort of. It was also The Shadow of the Wind, a gothic
novel about post Spanish Civil War Barcelona. A novel of dark
and stormy nights if PJ may quote Snoopy. Of literature, and of
the cemetery of forgotten books.
Just think. Gaudi, Dali, Picasso, and Miro. All with
Barcelonan roots. What a place.
Anyway, let PJ continue……
It is show time, Friday afternoon, at 1:00. PJ is doing a
balancing act. He’s loaded up with won-ton soup, popcorn, and
chocolate almonds. Careful not to drop or spill anything, he
gingerly eases into his seat for the opening matinee of X Men.
He would have preferred to avoid this super-hero flick because
he is a movie snob. But then again the people do ask, and, of
course, he must respond somewhat intelligently about the content
of the movies. So, see them he must. And he’s got to concede
that he was actually pleasantly surprised. X Men is pretty good
stuff. Fans will love it. It is even somewhat relevant
containing all kinds of clever references to today’s news.
Don’t ask, don’t tell. The question of whether security is more
important than liberty. Race relations. The ethics of
inter-mutational physical contact. And more.
But ultimately, as so often happens these days, the movie took
PJ elsewhere. Not to sleep, but to that “place” he often visits
during a movie. To the wanderings inside his head. To war-torn
Europe of the 1930’s and 40’s. To art, architecture, and
super-hero comic books. To literature. And even to Mothra.
It was those opening sequences of X Men that got him going…….
He was in a Nazi concentration camp. And there was a smiling,
sadistic Kevin Bacon. A Dr. Mengele of sorts. Mr. Bacon was
inflicting acts of horror upon a young boy. He knew that by
placing him under great emotional stress, the boy’s inner super
powers would burst from within. And burst they did. And thus,
a super-powered hero was created. The Nazi doctor made it
happen.
It was about at this time that PJ’s mind went a wandering at top
speed.
One of his favorite books, Kavalier and Clay, flashed into his
head.
This book spins the marvelous tale of 1940’s super-hero comic
book‘s golden era, and even contains, coincidentally, some
wonderful vignettes featuring Barcelona’s Salvador Dali,
mustache and all.
Kavalier and Clay tells of a pair of cousins. One already an
American. The other barely surviving in the maelstrom of 1930’s
Europe. The European cousin manages to escape to America, New
York City to be precise.
And it is there, in the teeming streets, that he, along with his
American cousin, develops the genre of the super-hero comic
book. It was Nazi brutality from which he fled, and it was Nazi
brutality that gave way to his art. Just like the boy in X Men.
Then PJ’s mind drifted to moments from Pete Hammil’s Snow in
August, yet another escapee’s tale of the coming to America from
War-torn Europe. The great freedom of America, was not taken
for granted by its main character who had had it stripped during
the war. Read it.
But PJ digresses. Let’s get back to the comics.
Many of the original super-hero comic books, you see, sprung
from the minds of Jewish artists who saw what was to come or
what had already transpired in Europe during those tumultuous
years. Their minds spawned heroes of super powers who would
confront fascist evil. It could not happen in real life, but at
least the helpless could be saved on the pages of their comic
books.
And, even further related…….PJ was reminded of the just recently
booked Midnight in Paris.
This new Woody Allen movie which opens at PJ Cinemas on June
10th, also visits early 20th Century Europe. Paris to be exact.
It is a fantasy. Owen Wilson “travels” back in time to Paris of
the 1920’s where several of the earlier mentioned characters,
the Barcelonans, appear along with famous others, as well. Some
are ex-patriots, some “Bohemians”. Call them what you may, they
all managed to find their way to Paris in the 20’s where the
shrapnel of artistic explosions enriched their lives and gave
way to great art. Art which was spawned by those who saw what
was to come in a decade or two, and art which was spawned by
what they had lived through earlier during World War I, the war
which was supposed to end all wars.
Dali, Picasso, Leo and Gertrude Stein, Hemingway, Cole Porter,
and, Matisse to name just a few. They are all there. They
network. They make art. And love. Don’t we wish we could
observe? PJ does. Owen Wilson gets to. But we better be
careful. Horror lies ahead.
And then PJ’s “travels” drifted to Michener’s The Drifters (he
doesn’t read him anymore--his books are just too long.) wherein
another group of ex-patriots each coming from a different far
reach of the world settled upon one another in the small Spanish
town of Torremolinos. Similar dynamics. Different eras.
Different place. People driven by social and political winds of
the times--here the 60‘s. Just as the artful had descended upon
Paris two generations before, these drifters were similarly
motivated by the times and found one another.
And, yet another column was conceived while “watching” a movie.
PJ remembers years ago discussing whether it is the times that
make great political leaders, or if it is the leaders who make
the times. He’s not sure, but it is certainly more clear that
it is the times, the social/political/economic climate, that
produce, that spawn, if you will, great art. And great music.
(Just think of the 60’s.) And great friends.
Hey, even the Japanese horror movies of the 50’s and 60’s were
spawned by nuclear horror. Whether or not PJ considers Mothra,
Gojira (the Japanese pronunciation of Godzilla), or Rodan great
art is a story for another column, however.
And by the way, getting back to the original premise…..
Even if we can’t really travel back to 1920’s Paris with Owen
Wilson, or jet to Barcelona, we can at least make these trips
while in the friendly and darkened confines of the cinema.
It is there that we may learn what motivates greatness.
And it is there that we may learn more about ourselves.
That’s quite a bit for five bucks, don’t you
think?
|
|
Back in biblical times an ancient tribe of
Hebrews employed a simple test to determine if an individual was
an authentic member of the tribe. If the person could pronounce
the word “shibboleth”, then he or she was considered authentic.
The dialect spoken by members of the opposing tribe did not
contain the “sh” sound, and thus, its members pronounced the
word as “sibboleth”. And this was bad news for them. Scripture
tells us that 42,000 individuals who said “sibboleth” were
slaughtered. Ouch.
Later on during World War II, US Troops used a similar
shibboleth to determine if individuals in the Phillipines were
actually enemy Japanese troops masquerading as Filipinos. They
asked the people to say the word “lollapalooza”. The Japanese
could not pronounce the “l” sound and instead said
“rorraparooza”. These individuals were shot on sight. True.
To this day we still use the term shibboleth for any test that
serves to identify an individual as being an authentic member of
a group.
So, why, you ask, is this information being shared? Well, now
that PJ has booked Kung Fu Panda 2, he is reminded of a
shibboleth of sorts that presented itself during the first Kung
Fu Panda’s run.
You see, at the PJ Cinemas we share, or some would say, suffer
from, what we like to think of as a “highly refined” sense of
humor. Others, however, poor souls that they are, see little or
no humor in what the PJ staff thinks is funny. Frankly, these
others just don‘t get it.
So, consider, please, this incident of spontaneity that occurred
at the box office back during the showing of the first Kung Fu
Panda. PJ now uses this anecdotal as a shibboleth to determine
if an individual shares that “highly refined”, strange sense of
PJ Cinemas humor.
If you believe that this story is funny, you pass. If, however,
you just stare in benign dismay, you fail the shibboleth.
And that being said, here is the story…….
A horse walks into a bar, and……….oops, wrong story.
Let’s try again….
It was just about show time during a busy Saturday matinee about
two years ago. A man with two children hurriedly approached the
box office and asked breathlessly, “Do you have any Kung Fu
Panda left?”
Well, PJ couldn’t resist.
“No, sir, it is all sold out, however, they are serving Kung Fu
Panda just as we speak next door at the Chinese take out. And,
you know what’s really amazing, it doesn’t taste like chicken.”
Well, while the saddened movie-goer stared in a state of abject
disappointment, the next guy in line, a guy with an excellent
sense of comic timing, added the coup de gras without missing a
beat.
“Hey,“ he said, “everything can’t taste like chicken.”
And there it was. Our shibboleth.
Half the people on line thought this was funny and burst into
laughter. The other half found no humor whatsoever in the
exchange. Especially the last contribution.
PJ often shares this story.
He has learned that it may be used to identify kindred spirits.
Is is about a fifty-fifty split.
Those who think it is funny versus those who merely give the
stare. And although this box office tale will certainly never
be written in scripture as was the original story of the ancient
Hebrew tribe, it is, nevertheless, to PJ, a useful device for
weeding out the humorless. Of course, no harm comes to those
who fail. They still get to stare at their movie.
Oh, and by the way, the film wasn’t really sold out that day two
years ago, and the guy and his kids did, in fact, get to enjoy
some Kung Fu Panda.
And……it was delicious.
|
|
It’s Saturday morning and PJ is getting ready for another
weekend at the movies. Up at five thirty he manages to print up
the box office statements for the past two weeks and to write
the film rental checks to the distributors.
He does the tape recorded message. Then he takes a look at the
newspaper. Yeah, he’s still a newspaper guy. He gets his news
the old-fashioned way. And for some reason this morning he
turns to the comics section. Ordinarily he has no patience for
the comics, but since he would like to actually author a “Far
Side” type of weekly cartoon called “The Box Office“, he
occasionally takes a peek.
Doonesbury is where he starts. It is also where he stopped.
This morning’s Doonesbury hit a raw nerve. The same nerve that
Bridesmaids, the movie, rubbed raw yesterday.
Let’s do Doonesbury first.
It’s Afghanistan. A commanding officer is reviewing the file of
one of his soldiers from across his desk. He informs the
soldier that he is going to be shipped home. It seems he’s had
“a lot of neuro-trama, and should have been sent home a long
time ago.” The soldier, with grim resignation, protests, and
says he can’t go, that “this” is my home. To which the officer
says, “Kandahar? Kandahar is your home?” The soldier replies,
“No, war, war’s my home. War is simple. I know what to do.
War makes complete sense to me”
The officer asks, “And your real home?”
The soldier responds, “Sir, my real home is AT&T bills and
couple’s counseling.
And the officer replies, “Mine, too, but isn’t that what we’re
fighting for?”
Brilliant. Succinct. Poignant. Comic. Tragic. (Not unlike
The Hurt Locker, huh?)
A chill then slowly came upon PJ, and he entered the “zone”.
And while still under its full comic/tragic confluence, he hit
the keyboard and started writing this column.
You see, he had also entered a similar “zone” a day earlier
while watching Bridesmaids, an R rated movie that he had
actually had misgivings about playing. Twice in the “zone” in
less than 24 hours. Good stuff.
An explanation…….
Over the years you may have noticed the PJ Cinemas has developed
a bit of a track record for shying away from R rated film of
which PJ believes there are two kinds.
First is the horror and exploitative type. He has consistently
avoided the Nightmares on Elm and the Friday the Thirteenths.
You know, the slasher flicks.
Now generally, the distributors do not permit the cherry picking
of their product. It is usually a case of “You want our film,
you play them all.” But over the years the theater has
gradually been permitted to “duck” this category of movie,
which, by the way, can often enjoy huge grosses.
And then there is the R rated Hangover, 40 Year-Old Virgin, and,
yes, Bridesmaids type. These “softer” rated R flicks are often
most sought by those too young to see them. That is why the
sign on the door says you need to be able to prove you are 17 to
see an R rated movie. And although no prude, PJ often cringes
when he exposes the public to the vulgarities contained within
them.
And so it was with this mind-set, at one o’clock on Friday
afternoon, that PJ took his chocolate covered almonds and medium
popcorn into Bridesmaids fully expecting to be vulgarized. He
thought for sure that this was cringe time.
But, no. Surprise! Surprise! Turns out that Bridesmaids instead
is inspired. It brilliantly blurs that thinnest of lines
between humor and pathos, comedy and tragedy. Just like the
Doonesbury cartoon. The leading actress last-name-of-Wiig
displays exquisite tragicomic timing. One just cannot stop
staring at that face throughout the movie. It is a barometer of
her emotions.
She hangs by a gossamer thread, yet the audience laughs as
audiences often do when confronted with awkward situations. And
PJ? Instead of the embarrassed cringe, he joined the audience
in the tearful cringe. This, folks, is wonderful film making.
Comedy, you see, has its roots in pain. Great comedians have
been known to draw on that pain and sublimely bring it to the
screen. Jackie Gleason, Jerry Lewis, Don Rickles. They could
all do it. Maybe even Adam Sandler.
And Kristen Wiig does it here. Her pain transcends the
raunchiness. We feel it but with a smile. A tear and a smile.
Ms. Wiig captures the full gamut of that one millimeter width of
the human condition. We do not expect this in our R rated
raunchy type movies. Bridesmaids is a wonderful surprise. It
is a cut above. It mingles pain and laughter. Just like the
commanding officer and his soldier.
Two final additional thoughts about the movie:
One of PJ’s favorite all-time scenes in a movie was when the
characters in Almost Famous thought they were going to die in a
Buddy Holly type plane crash. Just before the plane is about to
go down, they reveal their inner-most secrets in a moment of
passionate and sincerely honest last second confession. And
then, just their luck, the plane does not crash, and they
survive after having spilled their rather embarrassed and
humiliated guts. Well, the airplane scene in Bridesmaids was
right up there as well. And since PJ is on the subject, he
would like to go on record and state the worst airplane scenes
ever filmed were contained in a movie called Snakes on a Plane.
Don’t bother renting that one.
Another funny aspect to Bridesmaids was Wiig’s mom. She is a
portrait artist. Her house is pockmarked with her hokey
portraits of celebrities. PJ now has a better understanding of
why he should leave his portraits of staff and patrons in the
theater lobby and not in his house as he often wishes to do.
Anyway, go see Bridesmaids. You’ll laugh. You’ll shed a tear.
And even if you cringe a bit at the raunch, you may just travel
into the “zone“.
PJ did.
|
|
This past weekend the movie Fast Five blew away
the competition, and since PJ has little to say about Vin
Diesel, he has chosen instead to relate three interesting
exchanges he had with movie patrons.
The first exchange:
This guy walks up to the box office, and…….. Sounds like the
start of a joke, right? Well, it kind of is. Anyway, the guy
says, “Two for Lincoln Liar.”
Now for years, PJ has been writing wrong movie names the people
ask for on “the board” located in the lobby of the theater. So,
as soon as he heard this one he made a mental note.
“That’s a good one for the board,” he thought to himself. And
then he replied to the patron, “You mean Lincoln lawyer.” To
which the patron responded, “Same difference.”
Ouch. Apologies to the esquires out there.
The next exchange:
This lady walks up to the box office, and………. Yep, here we go
again.
She asks PJ about Water for Elephants.
A word about this movie. PJ has noted that for the past two
weeks every single patron who wanted to see this movie has
reminded him of the generally awful reviews it has received. He
has been telling them that must trust him, and go see it. In
every case, but two, they all loved the picture. Interesting,
huh? PJ is still calling for an investigation of the movie
review process what with all the bad reviews for good movies,
and good reviews for stinkers.
This case with the lady, however, was based on a different
concern. Her reluctance to see the movie was based on the issue
of cruelty to animals. PJ understood. He, also, was initially
hesitant to watch the movie because he had the same concerns.
PJ is well aware that animals are the best people.
And so, he suggested to the lady that she might prefer to
observe cruelty to people instead of cruelty to circus animals.
“Go see The Conspirator,” he advised.
She concurred, was grateful for the suggestion, and happily
walked up the stairs for the execution of Mary Surrat.
And then there’s Shep.
Shep is a cowboy of sorts. His son, Gene Shepard is the
terrific guy who, along with his wife, Maria, owns and operates
the Good Shepard Auto Body Shop in Coram. Shep looks like he’d
be more comfortable in Wyoming instead of Port Jefferson
Station. String tie, boots, Stetson. You get the idea.
Well, anyway, Shep loves the movies and PJ enjoys the pleasure
of his company several times a week. And, likewise, Shep likes
hanging out at the theater.
Now, you may not be aware, but PJ was bitten by an artistic bug
three years ago, and he started painting acrylic portraits of
his staff and patrons. There are currently about 90 painting on
display in the lobby.
Well, this past Tuesday PJ painted Shep regaled in his cowboy
hat.
And sure as sure can be, who comes sauntering in on schedule for
the Wednesday matinee? Shep, of course.
“Hey, Shep, “ says an excited PJ, “guess what? I painted your
portrait yesterday.”
So, PJ gets up from his box office perch and walks Shep and a
half dozen other patrons to the painting for a viewing.
Shep’s amazed. People, it should be noted, are flattered and
even moved when they see their face on the wall. It is kind of
a defining moment for them. It’s a little bit of a validation.
A little bit.
Anyway, Shep drawls, “You painted me……I don’t believe it.”
Things then settled down. He stared at his picture. He pointed
it out and discussed it with a few other theater regulars. And
PJ went back to selling tickets.
Shep then got his popcorn, and with his mouth full of the stuff,
walks back over to the box office and delivers one of the best
lines PJ has ever heard.
“All this time I only thought you were a Bull Sh-t artist. I
guess I was wrong,” says he.
And with that said, he trudged off to his movie.
And PJ got to writing this column.
Oh, and by the way, here’s the picture.
|
|
Last week PJ explained how modern 35 mm. movie
film has been made safe. No longer manufactured from unstable
nitro-cellulose stock, today’s film ensures that all the
fireworks appear only on the movie screen and not in the
projection booth.
So, now, let’s take a look at the actual manner in which film is
projected, and how our eyes and brains are deceived into seeing
motion.
Yes, deceived. After all, there is no motion on the screen at
all. The “motion” takes place in our mind’s eye.
In fact, we must think of the term “motion pictures” literally.
We are, you see, observing a series of pictures which conveys
the illusion of motion.
What then, actually, are we seeing?
OK, here goes. Motion picture film travels at the speed of a
foot and a half per second. And since there are 16 frames, or
actual pictures per foot, we are being exposed to 24 individual
pictures per second. Easy math.
But wait, that’s not all. You see, each one of these frames is
projected onto the movie screen twice. So, we are actually
seeing 48 images per second.
Are you still with PJ here?
Good. Now let’s talk about the shutter. The shutter is not
unlike a spinning propeller. It has two wide blades and is
positioned in the movie projector just behind the lens. It
looks like an outboard motor prop, and is synchronized with the
film.
As the film is pulled through the projector, one frame at a
time, the shutter blocks the light so the viewer is not
distracted by the motion of the traveling film. Once a frame is
locked in place within the projector, the blade spins past
permitting the light through the lens and onto the screen.
And there it is! One frame projected upon the movie screen.
Now the shutter passes again, and here is what happens. The
screen actually goes black because the shutter is blocking the
light. Then when that blade passes, the same frame is projected
upon the screen again.
When the shutter blade blocks the light the next time, the next
frame is pulled down, but we don’t see the frame coming down
into position because the screen has gone dark once again.
And this process is repeated. Over and over and over.
Let’s think about it:
24 frames per second each being projected twice. Thus, we are
witnessing 48 individual still pictures per second each
punctuated by a dark screen.
So, what in total are we seeing? Well, we are actually seeing
96 different events each second. 48 still pictures divided by
48 completely black screen moments.
Let’s suppose we are viewing a car traveling across the movie
screen from left to right.
Each new frame of film shows the car just slightly to the right
of the previous frame. Over the span of, let’s say, about five
feet of film, the car’s position continues gradually from left
to right until it passes out of sight.
Well, in actuality we are seeing 48 images and 48 dark screens
per second, each frame depicting the car a little to the right
of the previous frame. Think of those tireless cartoon
animators back when everything was hand-drawn. They needed to
draw 24 individual pictures for each second of real movie time,
or 120 pictures to illustrate our car passing from left to right
over a period of five seconds. That’s why animated movies were
never very long. They took years to make. And, by the way,
each one of those drawings or cels is now quite collectible.
And quite valuable.
This speed of 96 events per second is way too fast for our eye
to discern individually. But here is what happens.
Our retinas retain the previous image for a fraction of a second
and thus don’t really have the acuity to recognize the dark
screen. The image of the previous frame has retinal lag time
and this “blurs” into the following image.
It is because of this retinal retention of the previous image
and our inability to discern the subsequent dark screen that our
mind is deceived into thinking it is seeing motion.
Thomas Edison figured this out way over a hundred years ago.
Or, at least, he was the first guy who patented the process.
Originally there were different projector speeds but the
standard of 24 frames per second was established in the early
1900’s and has not changed since. It was this speed that
somehow made the “movies” feel comfortable. Not much flicker.
But a little grainy motion. The process, it seems, tends to
soothe our senses in a manner far different from, say, a
high-definition sports image.
That is why, PJ thinks, we like the movies so much. It just
makes us feel good.
For years PJ has been heard to say that a movie theater, unlike
other businesses, does not dispense a tangible product.
What you get instead, folks, is a fleeting image.
And……a deceptive one at that.
Next time you come to the theater, ask PJ to show
you a little trick he devised to illustrate the alternating dark
and light movie screen process. It will astound you.
And here is a picture of a movie projector....
|
|
Last week PJ coined the term “cellulose trash
bin” only to remind us that film is no longer made from that
substance, or more accurately, nitrocellulose.
So, then, what is film made from these days?
Well, to help explain this why don’t we turn back the clock, and
travel to the Floral, that grand, old theater that once stood so
proudly in Floral Park.
What a house it was. From Vaudeville to silent film and then to
the talkies. It was the jewel of Nassau County entertainment.
Balcony. Mezzanine. Loge. Boxes on the sides kind of like
where Lincoln was shot. Dome. Murals. Mahogany. Thousands of
seats. Stained glass. Etched Glass. Magnetic sound. Whew!
Now it is a catering hall. Single screen cavernous venues with
no parking can’t even come close to breaking even these days.
But, PJ digresses.
There were two areas in the Floral that did not drip with
elegance. The manager’s office which was about forty square
feet. And the projection booth. Hot in the summer and cold in
the winter, the “booth” was spartanly appointed with only the
basics. Truth be told, it did have one saving’s grace: two
small windows overlooking Floral Park and more specifically
Jericho Turnpike. Those twelve hour grind-days did not seem so
long when one could gaze upon the world outside.
Anyway, let’s travel back to the 1940’s, the Floral’s heyday.
There is PJ’s uncle Joe. He is the projectionist.
The Floral was a Century theater. Remember them? They were the
ones with the MATRON. She was the same person in every Century
theater. About five foot nothing and a hundred and ninety
pounds. You didn’t mess with the matron. Attired in white she
was ever vigilant in the maintenance of acceptable movie
conduct. Putting one’s feet on the chairs or talking during the
show were capital offenses.
My gosh, PJ finds himself digressing once again. He cannot help
it though. These memories are so rich.
Back to Uncle Joe…….
He’s showing the movies way up in the cramped projection booth.
And, uh-oh, 35 millimeter film back in the early forties is
still composed of nitrocellulose.
A word or two now about this substance. Nitrocellulose, you
see, is chemically not unlike the stuff they use to make bombs.
Extremely combustible, nitrocellulose film is very dangerous.
Incendiary dangerous. Especially around white hot carbon arc
lamps……….and cigarettes.
Oh, and by the way, Uncle Joe is a smoker.
Well, despite all the precautions, the fire rollers, and upper
and lower magazine covers, a loud explosion was heard in the
community of Floral Park that day.
And Uncle Joe?
They encountered Uncle Joe staggering along Jericho Turnpike on
foot. Bloodied. And with no recollection of the preceding
occurrences.
A brick layer by trade, Uncle Joe never set foot in a projection
booth again.
Uncle Joe, who is no longer with us, was quite a story teller,
and there is a part of PJ that wonders if this is an apocryphal
story--kind of like the tale of the projectionist whose tie got
stuck in the projector strangling him to death.
Well, whatever the case, if you walk into the PJ Cinemas these
days, you will see a sign on the two downstairs projection room
doors stating: safety film only. An unnecessary anachronism
still contained in today’s fire codes.
Back in the fifties, you see, they stopped using nitrate film
and replaced it with acetate, a more inert material. Then
finally in the nineties they replaced acetate stock with
polyester. Yes, the same stuff they use in
uncomfortable-no-wrinkle fabric.
Polyester has its pros and cons, but at least it is safe and
stable, and….also, PJ must add, indestructible. Really. It
cannot be torn or ripped. In fact PJ actually found pictures on
the internet wherein they used a single strand to tow a car. He
has even heard rumors that two strands of 70 millimeter
polyester film were actually used to tow a 747 jumbo-jet.
Honest. The stuff is stronger than steel.
The trouble with polyester, ironically, is that it is too
strong. When jammed in the projector, the brass gears are the
weak link and will strip long before the film ever even thinks
of tearing.
Furthermore, polyester film holds a static charge, and on those
dry, cold winter days it tends to cling. You know, just like
those polyester pants. This causes myriad problems in the film
delivery system, but at least, odds are pretty good you won’t be
seeing a staggering PJ wandering along Route 112 just like his
uncle did some seventy years ago.
It is interesting that although film material has evolved over
the years, the 24 frame per second method of film projection has
not changed one bit for well over one hundred years.
PJ will talk about this next week. And there will even be a
little bit about retinal retention.
Oh, and by the way, here’s a picture of a hanging lamp PJ made from three stained glass exit signs rescued from the Floral back in the sixties.
|
|
PJ has often been heard to say that we learn
everything we know in life from three sources……..
The Beatles.
Ms. Pacman.
And, of course, the movies.
Ok, get that look of disbelief from your face. It is true.
Just listen to those Beatles’ songs. All that deliberate
ambiguity correctly mirrors the confusion we all feel. Who was
Mother Mary, anyway? The church? Marijuana?
Whatever. There are no blacks and whites. Only shades of grey.
And Ms. Pacman. What has she taught us?
Well, if you plop your quarter (yes, still only one quarter per
play) into PJ’s beloved, vintage Ms. Pacman game, you’d learn
many of life’s valuable lessons. Such as:
Don’t be greedy and go for the fruit in life. It may result in
your demise.
Be patient. Remember, he who fights and runs away, lives to
fight another day.
And so on. But you’ll have to play next visit to the Cinemas to
learn your own lessons.
And then, folks, there are the movies.
Which takes us to the subject of Of Gods and Men. A subject
involving religion which PJ knows he probably should avoid in
this medium, but, hey, the movie demands it.
You see, one lesson PJ has learned for sure is to be cynical.
He knows, or thought he knew, that there was no altruism in this
world. Seeming acts of unselfishness, he always suspected, were
prompted by inner agendas. He even used to think that Mother
Teresa did all the good stuff just to get into heaven. But then
he read that her surviving papers indicated she doubted the
existence of God. So, if she wasn’t helping countless, hurting
people just to get into heaven, maybe she really was
altruistic. Unless, of course, she was still unsure and was
doing it as an insurance policy if you will.
Well, anyway, PJ is eating his chocolate covered almonds,
watching Of Gods and Men, and is thinking that even in the
monastery there is doubt, peer pressure, and wrestling with the
idea of running away to save one’s life perhaps at the expense
of losing one’s soul.
Turns out that in the end credits we learn this is a true story
which took place in Algeria in the 90’s. So, after the show, PJ
goes to the box office, turns on his computer, and googles up
the movie.
Holy smoke! These guys are fascinating. They are an order of
monks who endeavor to live their lives in the same manner that
St. Benedict did way back in the ten hundreds (1000’s). That’s
a thousand years ago.
They shun modern conveniences.
They toil in the fields and produce all their own food. They
are self-sufficient.
They are famous for making one of the only beers in the world
that gets better with age.
And……here’s the big one. They were rejected by the Church way
back when because they believed that it was not true that to die
killing non-believers entitled Crusaders to martyrdom.
Well, PJ was fascinated to read this about these spiritual
monks. We nowadays hear equal and opposite rhetoric. Gosh,
these animosities happened a thousand years ago and are still as
alive as today’s news.
And so, in keeping with their spiritual origins, these monks
took residence in a Moslem land and provided services for the
local population. They didn’t take. They only gave. They
dispensed medical care and sold their honey to buy medicine.
After PJ read all this, he got goose bumps. These men of God
really were altruistic. They’d been doing it for a thousand
years at great risk of personal peril. And so, in 1990’s
Algeria, when push came to big-time shove, they concluded there
really was no choice. They stayed.
Yup, PJ supposes he (and Ms. Pacman) is probably wrong again.
Ms. Pacman, after all, taught us to run away to live another
day. The monks, however, taught us that if you have strength of
conviction you must remain. PJ wishes they hadn’t.
At least the Beatles had it right. The monks, it seemed,
wrestled with their dilemma, spoke words of wisdom, and chose to
let it be.
|
|
Last week PJ had touched upon a lesson he learned
back in 1984 while emotionally involved with Streets of Fire, a
movie he loved, but one that needed to be dropped:
No matter how hard it is to let go, there are times when
one must.
This is one of life’s bitter lessons.
And so it was with Streets of Fire.
All that emotional capital. Done. Gone. In a blink.
Into the cellulose trash bin after only five days. Although, it
is interesting to note, cellulose is no longer used. Celluloid
has yielded to polyester. No kidding. But, that’s a subject
for another week.
Anyway, PJ had mentioned last week that there was one exception
to the drop-the-movie-if-it-is-dead-
It was about ten years ago. PJ got a call from Ronnie Lesser, his booker.
“Hey, kid,” he had said a little tentatively, “I just saw this
movie. It’s got a strange name. Nobody’s gonna’ play it. It’s
not gonna’ be advertised. But….I think you ought to show it at
PJ‘s. I loved it, and, who knows, it may have a chance.”
Well, that sounded great.
OK, Ronnie, I’ll bite. What’s it called?
My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
Silence. Not since he had heard the title Dirty Dancing did a
name make PJ cringe so.
“Ronnie, give me a break. No advertising, a name like that, and
it’s not going to be playing anywhere. Sounds like this is
going nowhere,” PJ responded.
“Kid, let’s give it a shot. It’s perfect for your crowd.”
“Who‘s releasing it?” PJ asked.
“Well, that’s another problem, no major distributor will pick it
up. It’s independent, and Rita Wilson, Tom Hanks’s wife,
produced it. It’s about this Greek girl, she’s a comedienne in
real life, actually, and the movie contains a bunch of material
from her stand up routines. It’s about her marrying a
non-Greek. Listen, kid, we’ve got a slot and there’s nothing
really any better to show, so, what the heck, let’s do it.”
And, so, with his arm twisted, PJ booked My Big Fat Greek
Wedding.
Well, he watched the opening show. What a rip it was.
“You’ve got to hand it to Ronnie,” PJ thought, “he got it right
this time.” You see, Ronnie’s taste in movies was kind of like
PJ’s. He liked the offbeat, upscale, arty flicks, and really
didn’t care for the commercial fodder. In fact, that’s why PJ
was reluctant to go along with the movie in the first place.
But there was something about MBFGW that touched a nerve.
Well, now PJ had to get to work. He had to promote this film,
because just like with Streets of Fire, hardly anybody showed on
the opening weekend. The tepid reviews didn’t help either. He
refused to sell tickets for other movies. Well, he didn’t
really refuse, instead he advised, cajoled, even begged for
people to go see this flick. The recorded message urged viewers
to give it a look-see.
The payback was when they came down the stairs from the smallest
theater after having seen it. They were still laughing. They
told their friends.
And so, refusing to drop the movie, PJ played it for an amazing
17 weeks without any advertising or promotion. The movie
plodded along on the strength of word-of-mouth. Of course, this
was pre-social network days, and word of mouth happened the
traditional, old fashioned way. The process was slow. The
movie never did well. But, it didn’t do too badly either. It
was almost worth keeping because the theater was paying a
somewhat low percentage of the gross to the distributor.
But then in the 17th week something amazing happened. Critical
mass was attained.
A movie nuclear chain reaction. It’s called resonant learning:
all of a sudden an entire population acquires cognizance
simultaneously.
My Big Fat Greek Wedding came downstairs into a large
auditorium. The big chains who had ignored the movie for four
months finally noticed. They all picked it up. Now it was all
over T. V. Nia Vardalos became a household name. It went
viral. Can you say “viral” if computers or microbes are not
involved? Why not! That’s just what it did. It went viral!
In its 25th week PJ remembers telling John McKinney, who used to
write for the local paper until, sadly, he passed away several
years ago, that this was a phenomenon that would never happen
again. That it was the staunch belief of a hand full of small
independent theaters that permitted a small independent film to
become a national event. He remembers telling Mr. McKinney,
who, by the way wrote about the movie in his column that it was
not only Greeks who loved it.
It was also Italians, Jews, Puerto Ricans, everybody.
It may have been Greek to Nia, but people of all ethnicities
identified with this movie’s clash of cultures.
And so it ran………..for 37 weeks.
A house record.
Right up there with Joe DiMaggio’s consecutive game hitting
streak.
Two records that probably will never be broken. Joe D’s and Nia
V’s.
Oh, and by the way, what kind of thanks did the theater, the
theater that played such a pivotal part in making My Big Fat
Greek Wedding the highest grossing independent movie of all
time, get from Ms. Wilson?
A year later, a year after the movie had left the theaters, the
PJ Cinemas was back charged. Big time. The film rental
percentage was raised significantly. Way after the fact. The
percentage that had once been low enough so that a struggling
small-town independent theater could hold onto such a movie for
so long and make it into a winner was raised to big-time-movie
rates.
PJ supposes there are not too many loyalties in this business.
It is, after all, a business.
Big business.
But, hey folks, at PJ’s, it’s still small-time. And still the
home of the $5.00 matinee.
And we’re still loyal to you, our patrons.
And for your patronage, we say thanks
|
|
So, last week, PJ wrote about how much he enjoyed
Lincoln Lawyer, and about how male actors can work for decades
while females, unfortunately, not unlike some sub-atomic
particles, flare for only a brief moment before they disappear
from the screen.
Then he sat down to watch Lincoln Lawyer for a second time.
And while the opening credits scrolled down the screen, a name,
a male name, sparked a dormant memory. He had missed the first
few minutes of the film last time. But there it was……
Michael Pare.
Could it be?
Could it be the same Michael Pare from Streets of Fire? From
1984? Tom Cody? PJ’s mind began unraveling ancient rolls of
film. He had just seen Lincoln Lawyer a few days before, yet he
didn’t remember seeing Michael Pare. Did he age so much that he
was unrecognizable? Was PJ’s longevity theory about actors
about to be blown out of the water?
And then it hit him! The detective. The gnarly old detective.
The scene in the elevator.
Yup, theory over.
Michael, what has happened to you? Where have you been? And
then instead of concentrating on the movie, PJ’s mind, traveled
back to 1984.…….. a million years ago. Well, only 27.
He was still teaching. He was showing the movies at the Twins,
too. It was still ten years before the Cinemas would reopen as
a seven screen venue. Two screens was so much different than
seven. Especially in June when the big movies opened and the
success of the summer depended on two solid bookings.
Ronnie Lesser, his booker at the time, advised PJ to make the
trip into the City to preview Streets of Fire at the trade
screening. Universal had invested a small fortune into the
movie. They built a huge and costly set at their California
studios depicting the elevated subway, the el, amidst several
stark and gritty urban streets. Billed as a rock and roll
fable, it starred an electric, young-and-coming actress named
Diane Lane. Willem Dafoe was the leader of the bad motorcycle
gang. Amy Madigan had a sultry part. Rick Moranis was the
comic relief. And…….the lead was this hunky guy…Michael Pare.
He had a look. He had that something unidentifiable. How cool
a tough, lonely, reluctant-hero was he.
And the music. Sensational. Ry Cooder did the sound track. PJ
listened to it for years.
Well, he did make that trip into the City and saw the movie
amongst a full house. He can still remember his conversation
with Ronnie after the show. Just as if it were today.
“So, kid, wha’d ya’ think of it?” he had asked. Ronnie was an
older guy, about as old as PJ is today, and he didn’t quite know
what to make of this movie.
PJ told Ronnie he loved it. Then he observed this
about-eighteen-year-old wearing headphones and sitting on the
floor of the theater lobby. PJ asked him what he thought. In
no uncertain terms, the kid said it was the best movie he had
ever seen.
And so, Streets of Fire was booked.
Newsday loved it too. PJ remembers the first sentence of the
review: Streets of Fire is great. Yes, great! Three stars!
This can’t miss. Yes!
But miss it did. Nobody showed. Nobody. To this day PJ cannot
figure out why. There was a time he was convinced that people
had confused it with two other movies that were out at about the
same time: The Last Starfighter and Firestarter. Maybe, he
thought, Universal didn’t promote it properly. Whatever the
case, it was D. O. A.
Ronnie pulled a miracle and managed to drop it despite PJ’s
reluctance. “Kid, it’s gotta’ go. You’re emotionally involved,
but it‘s gotta‘ go,” he had said.
It lasted from Friday to Tuesday. Five Days.
Well, it has been almost thirty years and PJ is still thinking
this is a movie worth seeing. A good one to rent. Sure, nobody
might have come to see it back in ‘84, but it was one cool
movie.
And he learned some valuable lessons that summer.
Don’t go screening movies. His taste is often inconsistent with
the public’s.
And…….always be objective. If it does not ring a chord with the
movie-going public on opening day, it’s never coming back from
the dead. With one exception, of course. But the story about
My Big Fat Greek Wedding is for another column.
And PJ learned a few lessons this past week as well. Some
actors, like actresses, also disappear for a generation and a
half only to come back as old guys. Michael isn’t looking so
good. There goes that “guys always look best now” concept.
Michael is an exception to the rule.
And some actresses, like actors, do have staying power. Diane
Lane certainly has had a remarkable career. Although, it must
be stated, Streets of Fire almost killed her career as well.
By the way, if you want to see one of the all-time charming
movies, rent A Little Romance starring a thirteen-year-old Diane
Lane and Laurence Olivier. And an Italian kid who learned
English for the movie, never to ever appear in a movie again.
It is a gem.
Anyway, by the time PJ started concentrating on Lincoln Lawyer
again, it was half over. Instead, he had written this column in
his head.
Oh, and by the way, here are two pictures: One is of Michael Pare, the 1984 Michael Pare, as he appeared in Streets of Fire as Tom Cody. And here is the poster of the movie. Neat stuff, huh? |
|
So PJ just saw The Lincoln Lawyer, and if you had
been listening, you might have heard him expounding on his
theory of longevity with regard to the acting profession.
Careers of male stars, he was saying, often span five decades,
and, in some cases, even longer.
Females, sadly, are not so fortunate. Leading ladies have about
a single decade and then do not return to the screen until we
spot them as grandmotherly types.
Why this pattern? Well, it may be explained by what PJ refers
to as the photograph phenomenon: Show a guy a picture taken of
him years ago and he thinks he looks goofy.
Show a woman a picture from her yesteryear, and she gets all
misty and nostalgic.
And why is this? Simply because men almost always look better
now, while women, well, almost always, looked better then.
And so it is with actors and actresses. And their careers.
Take your Clint Eastwoods, your Sean Connerys, your Paul Newmans
and your Robert Redfords. MAN! (See, it’s even built into the
language. Does the exclamation WOMAN exist? Nope.) These guys
had staying power. They always seemed to look good. Plus they
had that something special: Guys thought they were cool, and
women thought they were sexy.
Actresses, on the other hand, let’s face it, are objectified
merely as glamorous love interests of aging men. And then,
sadly, they and their youthful glamour often fade from the
screen.
So, you may be asking, where is PJ going with this.
OK, back to The Lincoln Lawyer.
He loved the movie. And, for the first time that he can recall,
he thought Matthew McConaughey was terrific.
You see, when Matthew first sauntered onto the scene in the
90’s, PJ thought that he was going to be one of these ageless
guys. That he had that something special. Women seemed to love
him. Guys thought he was cool. But frankly, it never
translated to the screen. Matthew’s suit, let’s face it, was
somewhat empty. PJ remembers loving the book A Time to Kill.
He couldn’t wait for the movie. But, Mr. McConaughey
disappointed. And then there were all those silly frilly
movies.
But, male leads have staying power. And Matthew has been
persistent.
Had he been a woman, his career would never have survived even
that first decade. His window would have slammed shut.
But, son of a gun, he finally got one right. Matthew
McConaughey, it seems, has “grown” into an actor with
substance. Males, remember, are provided this extra time for
growth. Plus, yeah, he’s still looking good too!
He plays a defense attorney. A manipulative, smarmy, scheming,
conniving, oily defense attorney. Yet, for some reason, we like
him. He’s cool, charming, and yes, sexy.
PJ loved that Marisa Tomei played his opposite. Good casting. Marisa actually kind of muddies the waters of PJ’s theory because she, unlike most female leads, is also cool, charming, and sexy. PJ is thinking that she’s got some of that male lead stuff in her, and is an exception to the rule. Even though her pan flashed “a ways” back, she seems to have “grown” as well displaying a dimension of maturity and knowing wisdom.
Anyway, the movie had PJ at the edge of his seat. Literally.
It is smart with plenty of plot twists. And, man (oops, there
he goes again) don’t we all love those dramatic courtroom
scenes?
The supporting cast is solid. William H. Macy is fun. Michael
Pena is always believable. He, PJ believes, performed the
single greatest vignette ever seen in a movie. Who could ever
forget the moment when he placed the invisible protective cape
on his little girl while hiding under her bed in Crash? What a
scene.
And now that Matthew McConaughey has finally arrived, who knows,
maybe he’s got another two or three decades left in him. Time
is forgiving to male actors. It has been kind to him.
And who knows, we may even see this character revisited.
PJ would not mind seeing a Lincoln Lawyer sequel or two.
This one was that much fun.
|
|
So, PJ has been thinking about Barney’s Version.
In fact, he can’t seem to stop thinking about Barney‘s Version
since he saw it yesterday. He had been wanting to pick it up
for quite a while, but contractual commitments did not permit
it’s booking until this week.
What a movie.
Two hours and ten minutes.
Paul Giamatti for two hours and ten minutes.
And you know what?
PJ could have sat for two hours and ten minutes more. The
acting was that good.
It was reminiscent of Sideways wherein Giamatti played a similar
character. PJ remembers listening to his daughter tell him how
much she detested Sideways. She hated that the Giamatti
character went into his mother’s bedroom dresser drawer and
stole her money. PJ recalls telling his daughter that just
because a character does something detestable, it does not a bad
movie make. Quite the opposite. That sneaky theft was a
defining moment of a great movie. One of many defining
moments.
Well, Giamatti’s Barney is every bit as detestable. Yet, he
grows on you. He’s got a heart. Sometimes. He’s
inappropriate. All the time. And offensive. Most of the
time. PJ is thinking that the inhibition part of Barney’s brain
never quite fully developed. Or, maybe he just did not care.
At least, everyone always knew where they stood with him. A
phony he was not.
PJ did have a bit of a problem with Barney’s wife, though. He
could never fully believe that this woman with so much
effortless dignity, the eventual mother of his children, would
have exposed herself to a Barney in the first place. She
certainly knew he was a scoundrel what with all the attention he
unloaded upon her while at his very own wedding to another
woman. Yeah, girls like bad boys. But Barney was
insufferable. And this elegant woman was no girl. He seemed to
be the embodiment of everything she would find repulsive. And a
looker he was not. He was, however, relentless, and eventually
she succumbs. Much like the oyster yields to the starfish.
Barney himself also succumbs. Throughout the movie. To booze,
babes, and cigars. He tries to convince his wife that at least
the babes never really mean anything.
PJ is confused, though. Paul Giamati was awarded the Golden
Globe for best actor in a comedy or musical for his performance
in this picture. Well, sure, there were some laughs in Barney’s
Version, but folks, this is heavy duty stuff.
Gut-wrenching stuff. Emotional stuff. The stuff of life.
It is a murder mystery as well. Barney’s best friend in the
flick reminded PJ of the Thomas Hayden Church character in
Sideways. If, by the way, you haven’t seen this gem, rent it.
Anyway, in Barney’s Version it is suggested that Barney may have
killed his friend.
Did Barney “off” his buddy? Perhaps the answer lies in the
final vignette wherein the shell of what once was Barney sits by
the lake and watches a sea plane do a “touch and go”. Keep your
eyes on the beach ball and perhaps you’ll be provided with a
clue.
Well, folks, the acting is sensational. The two hours and ten
minutes are engrossing as can be. And…the characters…..they
stay with you.
Yes, Barney’s Version contains all 360 degrees of life’s circle,
yet, PJ seems to feel that somehow the sum of its parts is
greater than the whole. Who knows, maybe he’s nitpicking.
Nevertheless……Barney’s Version is a must-see.
Giamatti is a tour de force.
A comedy or musical it is not.
What is it then? It is a far better movie than all those other
Oscar contenders.
That’s what.
Go see it.
|
|
So, PJ just watched The Adjustment Bureau, a
definite “willful suspension of disbelief” movie. But you know
what? If you do just that, you’ll have a pretty good time.
Some thoughts about this film:
-PJ is wondering why Matt Damon is so often cast in roles where
he has no clue what is going on. He fought and kicked his way
through those Jason Bourne movies without an inkling of his
identity. And he pretty much did the same thing here. He is
nice though, and not unpleasing to the eye.
-There was, however, excellent chemistry between him and Emily
Blunt. You could feel it. PJ is of the opinion, however, that
she was responsible for most of the electricity.
-PJ was amused with the corporate structure of the adjustment
bureau, or, if you will, for lack of a better term, the “grand
architect“ of all that is. It appeared to be a pretty large
operation, but apparently the chairman was cutting back on
expenses because Matt’s personal “adjustor” confided they were
understaffed. It is not so easy, PJ guesses, to run the world.
-It was the wearing of the hats that enabled the “adjustors” to
walk through the doors. This was a mite lame.
-And, furthermore…….if these guys knew everything, how come they
didn’t know that Matt’s personal attendant was ratting them
out? Oops, PJ forgot for a moment to suspend his disbelief.
Please disregard this item.
-So, anyway, as the movie was chasing its way to a conclusion,
PJ’s mind started to wander. He thought it would be funny to
come up with a top ten list of people who could have played the
role of the chairman. OK, picture this scene: Not unlike in
The Wizard of Oz, Matt makes it all the way to the nerve center
of the adjustment bureau’s corporate headquarters ……he smashes
through the door with Emily….and who is sitting at the desk?
Let’s consider some of the following chairman candidates that
the staff and a few patrons came up with:
1. Pee Wee Herman, PJ’s brother thought, would have been
sublime.
2. A suggestion from Sue, a patron who had just seen the
movie, was Dick Cheney. Pretty good, huh?
3. Then Andrew chimed in with Charlie Sheen! Well he has been
sounding pretty architectural lately.
4. Then PJ thought of Michael Buffa who could have conducted
the bureau in his center of the ring announcing voice: Let’s
get reddddddy to runnnn the worlddd.....
5. Rodney Dangerfield was suggested.
6. Then The Donald.
7. Even Spongebob.
-At this point, though, people started arriving for the second
show of the day so the choices ended at 7. Be careful, though,
you never know who may be "running the show".
On a different subject, the theater received an e mail this past
week from a patron to be unnamed who wished to register a
complaint. Here it is, and thank you, sir:
Dear PJ,
I rarely do this kind of thing, but I am compelled to register a
complaint with you. However before I do so, I think some back
ground may be in order.
My wife and I have been coming to PJ Twins (yes I'm one of those "long-timers" that still remember) for longer than I can remember. Even though we live literally minutes from the Stony Brook multi-plex, whenever possible it is the PJC that we spend our movie-watching time. Why you may ask? Maybe it's because of the unmistakable small entrepreneurial feel of the place, or the friendly, personal attitude of the employees. Maybe it's because there is freshly made popcorn (yes I'm a traditionalist -popcorn and a soda - no Raisinettes or Sour Patches for me). Maybe it is the ever-growing gallery of portraits in your lobby. You are truly a gifted portrait artist, with a wonderful understanding of lights and colors - I feel I know a little bit about each of your subjects! Or yes, I'll admit it, maybe it's just because the PJC is a better value - so sue me, I like a bargain. Whatever the reason is, PJ Cinemas is our movie theater of choice. Anyway - on to my complaint: It's Sunday morning and I just paddled downstairs to check-in on the world via the World Wide Web. However, before I did so I wanted to go to the PJ Cinemas website to see if ours were winning tickets. Alas, a loser again. But while on your website I made the "mistake" of entering into PJ's Piques. And now, finally my complaint: My intent was to just check my ticket results, and then move on to more important matters like e-mail and Facebook and www "stuff", but instead I sat semi-spellbound for over 45 minutes reading your musings and free-flow thoughts on matters large and small. I found that I was getting more and more angry at myself for not having the willpower to stop scrolling down to your previous well-written, thought and chuckle provoking post. I was stuck, and the early morning was fast turning to mid-morning and I hadn't checked my e-mail! Totally unacceptable! A customer complaint must be lodged! I feel much better now.
Now those are the kind of “complaints” that PJ doesn’t mind
receiving.
Thank you again, sir, for your kind words. And
remember, PJ has promised to paint your portrait. Please
introduce yourself when you come in so he can get the process
started, and place your face in the gallery of patrons.
|
|
Oscar Time……
The Red Carpet.
-The first face on the screen is Russell Brand. He was great in
Get Him to the Greek. Rent it. Crude, but brilliant.
-Hailie Steinfeld appeared next. She conducted her
fourteen-year-old self with grace. PJ thought she delivered the
best line in True Grit when she was taken prisoner by the bad
guys. She had shot people, was in Indian Territory on her own,
was hunting down her father’s killer, but when she was offered
coffee by her captors, she said, “I do not drink coffee, I am
only fourteen years old.” Good stuff.
-The Academy Awards show in recent years is hosted at The Kodak Theater in Hollywood. From 1949 to 1959 it was held at the grand old Art Deco style Pantages Theater on Hollywood and Vine. Howard Hughes owned the Pantages, and his office was upstairs. PJ is proud to have an incredible stained glass exit sign from the Pantages. He collects them. Here is a picture of the sign .
-Amy Adams appeared next. She is one fine actress. Julie and
Julia, Doubt, Sunshine Cleaning, and now Charlene from The
Fighter. All different. All believable.
-The Beatty/Bening tandem then strolled onto the TV screen. It
is surprising, PJ thinks, that Warren Beatty has devolved into
Anette Bening’s spouse and escort.
-And while on the subject of Annete, why was Julianne Moore
ignored? Wasn’t her character every bit as important and
well-acted as Ms. Bening’s? PJ just does not understand the
politics and or dynamics of the nominating process.
-The opening sequence of the Awards show wherein Anne Hathaway
and James Franco traveled through dreams of contending movies
was entertaining. Maybe even more so than some of the actual
movies depicted.
-But then, their opening monologue turned instantly lame,
stilted, and not funny. We could have sure used Johnny Carson.
Or Billy Crystal. At least, Anne and James didn’t “Gervaise”
anybody. Nice is nice for a change.
-Kirk Douglas displayed dignity, humor, guts. And class.
Noticeably absent, however, was Michael. Oh, Oh. Hope he’s ok.
-PJ was pleased to see Melissa Leo win for the mother in The Fighter. She was deserving, but so was Amy Adams for Mark Wahlberg’s girlfriend. A tie would have been nice.
-PJ was happy when the award for best animated short came on,
because this provided a moment to flip to the Knicks/Heat game.
Knicks are down by 13. Ouch.
-James Brolin made a delicious faux pas when presenting the
screenwriter’s award. He claimed that screenwriters make us
stink. He meant to say make us think. Or did he?
-At the next commercial break PJ discovered that the Knicks went
on a 16-0 run and took a one point half-time lead. Now, this is
news.
-Back to the show for the best chemistry of the night: Helen
Mirren and Russell Brand as presenters. He’s a rip. So is
she.
-PJ is now thinking something may be wrong. It is one and a
half hours into the show and no George Clooney sightings.
-Did you notice the gorgeous multi-colored splotchy back wall
drop in Geoffrey Rush’s studio in The King’s Speech? Great
set. Great work of art. Way better than anything Jackson
Pollack ever did.
-While Inception was winning best noise, er, sound, it was
upsetting to learn that the Knicks were down again. By 7.
-PJ was not surprised that True Grit didn’t win for best
costumes. He thought they were a bit too burlappy for an Oscar.
-A quick flip back to the Knicks during a commercial break.
Darn, what could be worse than encountering a commercial on
their end?
-Meanwhile, back at the Oscars, PJ notices that makers of
Documentaries almost always make political statements. He
guesses this is only logical.
-OMG! With only 12 seconds left, the Knicks are up by 1.
There’s no flipping back to the Oscars now. LeBron “takes his
talents” to the hoop. Amar’e rejects him. 6.7 seconds left.
Finally some real suspense this evening……LeBron shoots from
behind the arc for three to tie. HE MISSES! YES! KNICKS WIN.
THE KNICKS WIN.
-Back to the show……
-The camera rests its eyes on a couple in the audience. What an
acting team. Javier Bardem just may be the finest actor out
there. And, he’s married to Penelope Cruz, the best actress on
the planet. Except maybe for Dame Judy Dench.
-Jeff Bridges and Sandra Bullock did a lovely job of speaking
directly, with warmth and admiration, to the contenders for best
actor and actress. Nice is nice.
PJ admits there was a bit of suspense at the end. He was
wondering if the Social Network would pull off an upset? He
didn’t book this movie this week. However, the Facebook flick
also missed from behind the three point line. The King’s Speech
won. Some suspense, but, of course, nothing like the Knick’s
game.
-By the way, The King’s Speech and The Fighter, the big
winners, are still playing at PJ’s. Good booking, huh? Come
on down and see them.
-And let’s go Knicks. It’s been a lot of years.
|
|
It’s Monday morning, 6:00 A. M. PJ is at his
desk. Yes, he is an early riser. A good three inches of snow
has fallen, it’s still coming down, and he is wondering if yet
another school holiday will be occupied by kids playing in the
snow instead of coming to the movies.
The movies. Let’s talk about them.
It was a pretty good weekend.
The King’s Speech continued to draw viewers. And why not? It
is intelligent, historical, and well-acted. Of course, PJ is of
the opinion that it is Geoffrey Rush who steals the show, but
Colin Firth was nominated for best actor and will probably win.
Rush most likely will take second place--best supporting actor.
It’s looking like this movie will take away plenty of awards
including the coveted best picture title.
PJ was saddened when he had to drop the split-screen tandem of
True Grit and The Fighter. Ordinarily the theater must
guarantee sole use of a screen to one particular movie. PJ’s
was given permission, however, to split one screen evenly
between True Grit and The Fighter. Both movies belong to
Paramount and frankly they were pleased to have the two of them
out there even in a “split” presentation. This had worked well
until the Cinemas was denied permission to drop The Roommate.
And so, The Roommate remained, and two top contending flicks
went by the wayside.
Perhaps PJ will bring them back after the Academy Awards are
presented.
Let’s take a look at the remaining titles……
First a word or two about The Roommate. Killed by the critics,
this psychological thriller was basically ignored by the
public. Interestingly enough, PJ liked it. In fact he compared
it to Black Swan, a high-end psychological thriller. Sure,
Natalie Portman was superb, but she gave PJ the creeps. He had
to look away from the screen whole bunches of times. The girl
in The Roommate (PJ heard that she is Derek Jeter’s girlfriend)
was not as high strung as Natalie and a lot easier to look at.
In fact, so was the whole movie. Honestly, though, PJ could have
lived comfortably without ever having seen either of them.
Then there is the Adam Sandler/Jennifer Aniston flick, Just Go
With It. Though hardly anyone could remember the title or get
it right……Just Go For It, What’s With It, Etc……the movie-going
public just went with this movie. Bad reviews and all. It was
fun. It was funny. It was romantic. Nicole Kidman was a rip.
In fact, it was probably the first time PJ really warmed up to
her even though she played a deliberate snoot. It was nice to
see her not taking herself so seriously for a change. Perhaps
the Tom Cruise effect is finally wearing off.
And then there is Gnomeo and Juliet. This movie almost never
made it to the screen. Originally going to be produced by
Miramax, the adult-oriented Disney subsidiary, the project came
to a halt when the Weinsteins left and Miramax’s activity was
reduced to a mere three movies a year. The name “Miramax“, by
the way, PJ understands, is a term derived from the Weinstein’s
parents, Miriam and Max. Well, anyway, after about ten years,
the project was resumed, Elton John got involved, added his
songs, and this picture has certainly filled a void at PJ’s.
Safe, clean, G rated family movies are always a welcome treat at
our local family oriented theater.
And what about that Liam Neeson? Why he’s become a regular
latter-day Harrison Ford. Sure, the viewer needs to check his
or her brains at the door, but what the heck. Unknown has all
the elements that movie-goers love: thrills, mystery, suspense,
intrigue, non-stop plot development, suggestions of romance, and
car chases. Way to go, Liam. Your movie doesn’t hold up well
to analytic scrutiny, but it sure is a great time.
I Am Number 4, without a doubt, mirrors all the elements of the
Twilight movies. Most have referred to it as a blatant
rip-off. However, please, don’t reveal this, but PJ is
embarrassed to admit that he liked it. In fact, he liked it far
better than the Twilight movies. The characters are better to
look at. They seem more real. The girl from Glee, Dianna
Agron, is Scarlet Johanssen light. The camera loves her face
and she possesses that certain unidentifiable something. This
flick has aliens and high school bullies, and who cares if it
has been done before. If you are young, it may be the first
time for you. PJ often thinks back to those Superman, Cisco
Kid, and Captain Midnight shows he used to watch on early TV.
They were awful. But he didn’t know that. And they were great
fun.
And rounding out this week’s flicks there is The Bieb, Justin,
that is. Adults love to laugh and ridicule the kid. But PJ is
thinking that the parents of today’s adults must once have felt
much the same way about rock and rollers way back in the
sixties. You see, adults are often condemning new trends.
Things were always better back then, but, hey, what goes around
comes around, and it seems that some of us who were once
targeted for ridicule when we were kids, grew up and continued
the cycle. So, come one, give The Bieb a break.
And now that we’ve gone full circle…..PJ hopes to see you at the
movies.
Postscript…..Well, it’s 5:00 P. M. and PJ just got home from the
matinee shift. He’s shot. The snow stopped, the streets and
theater parking lot got plowed, and droves of people came to the
movies. PJ supposes that all of the recent mammoth snow storms
have acclimated everyone to the extent that this four-incher was
perceived as just a dusting. Last year everyone would have
stayed home, but this year, no sweat. Go figure.
Oh, and what did they come to see?
They came to see them all. And for that PJ
says, “Thank you.”
|
|
PJ has always enjoyed showing Academy Award
contenders at Oscar time.
In recent years, however, the quick DVD release of nominated
films has rendered these bookings almost extinct.
This year, however, the PJ Cinemas has held over True Grit, The
Fighter, Black Swan, and The King’s Speech, all late releases,
for many weeks. The Tabloids and the 7:00 TV entertainment
shows have generated quite a bit of interest in these flicks,
and there has been a subsequent boost to their box office
grosses at theaters everywhere. It would be nice if in the
future the distributors recognized this phenomenon, and
continued to delay their DVD release of contending movies until
well after the Oscars.
Additionally, PJ has noticed that most of the buzz this year has
centered around the nominees for Best Picture. Where ever he
goes, it seems, people stop and ask his views about these top
movies.
The picture most often discussed is The King’s Speech.
Here are some of his King’s Speech observations:
-First and foremost……Geoffrey Rush’s performance is superb. A
Commoner in the British class system, he must contend with none
other than the King. He does so with an inner strength of
character, and not necessarily with the respect that societal
demands would have ordinarily placed upon him. That he, Lionel,
places his demands upon and prevails over the King with
steadfast confidence and humor is testimony to Rush’s mastery of
the acting craft.
-Secondly…….He is on the screen as often as the King, Colin
Firth. So, why is Geoffrey Rush considered the supporting
actor? It is he who should have been nominated for best actor.
-It is, PJ believes, easier to act as the stammering King with
all its inherent entitlements than it is to demonstrate dignity
of belief in light of one’s low caste.
That all being said, here are a few more ideas about the movie:
-England is about to embark upon The Second World War. Twenty
to thirty million people are about to die. Europe will soon be
torn to shreds. And, yet, the King is merely happy that he
makes it through his speech. His personal conquest is peanuts
to what’s coming and he seems not to care a whit.
-Why did the movie present Winston Churchill as a buffoon? PJ
remembers staying up a good part of the night listening to the
radio on the day Churchill died. His famous wartime speeches
were being replayed. And…..it was those speeches, his
eloquence, his touring the bomb sites, his unflagging
confidence, his mingling with the blitzed populace that provided
the English people with the stubborn defiance they needed to
overcome the hardships of war. It was Churchill who was the
great orator, the great leader. Not the King.
And, a last thought……about teachers, students, mentors, speech
therapists…… Kings and Commoners…….and, maybe, even about us.
PJ has often wondered who is ultimately responsible for a
student’s success. Achievement, after all, is most often the
product of the relationship between student and teacher. But
then sometimes it gets a bit personal.
A talented teacher employs knowledge of his or her subject,
technique, and skill to engage the student. And when that
student succeeds, the teacher can’t help but feel great pride.
Good teaching, he or she knows, yields good results.
But, wait a minute. Who is to deny the pride that the student
enjoys upon his or her accomplishments? It is, after all, the
student, who has mastered the material, who has worked hard.
Hey, all the water in the world won’t get an uncooperative
student to drink.
And so we ask: Is it the teacher’s talents that create a
“thirst” for knowledge, or is it how “thirsty” the student is?
It is much the same with The King’s Speech. Was it Lionel or
was it the King? Geoffrey Rush or Colin Firth? The Teacher or
the Student?
PJ knows it was, actually, the partnership of the two. Good
teaching. Good learning. A want to impart knowledge. A want
to succeed.
Who was responsible for the King’s triumph over his disability?
They both were, and each was entitled to the warm fuzzy feeling
of pride. Each played his part. Each succeeded.
And…….redirecting the subject just a bit……..
“Who,” PJ asks, “is responsible for this year’s 57 Long Island
Merit Scholarship finalists?.”
Think about it.
You decide.
|
|
Odds and Ends about PJ’s Fun Week and a Look at
the Super Bowl…..
It has taken quite a while, but, yes, even old English teachers
succumb to contemporary syntactic pressure and use “fun” as an
adjective. Apologies to all those students who might have lost
a point for such usage. Like it or not, language evolves.
Let’s move on……
PJ went to visit his brother in Florida, a tradition each year
at the end of January. It was a great week highlighted by The
Miami Antique Show and a drive to Key West.
Key West is some place. A haven for those wishing to escape. A
“college town” without a college and populated by aging children
who kind of never grew up.
Well, he returned Saturday on a plane with only 33 passengers
silly enough to leave behind the warmth of the sun, stopped at
the theater, picked up the payroll, went home, did the payroll,
did a week’s worth of paper work, returned to the theater, paid
the staff, and went home. Vacations are hard.
He got to the theater early Sunday morning and took care of
loose ends. Then a lovely thing happened. One of PJ’s favorite
patrons came in. He had hair. Finally. And a beard. He is
done with chemo and is in remission. How great is that. PJ
took his photo and decided he would paint his portrait on
Monday. The theater lobby, by the way, contains about 70
portraits of the theater staff and patrons. Kind of like Katz’s
Deli in the City. Come down and take a look.
Then, by default, since there was nothing else to see, he went
to see The Roommate. Yeah, you are going to think he’s nuts,
but he actually liked the movie. For what it is, that is. In
fact, It’s kind of the same movie as The Black Swan, but
different. The psycho girl is not unlike the Mila Kunis
character. The star of the movie corresponds to Natalie Portman
only is a heck of a lot more likeable than the tightly wound
Natalie. Each contains bodily penetration by various sharp
objects. Each contains strange parental models.
And then Sunday evening, despite the theater’s recorded message
which implored movie-goers everywhere to eschew watching the
Super Bowl, and to, instead, go to the movies, he tuned in to
the big game. He really did not have much interest since his
always disappointing Jets let him down for the 40th some odd
consecutive time, but, of course, it was only to check out the
commercials.
Let’s look at a few of them……
But first………it’s worth noting that…..
Glee’s Lea Michelle’s America the Beautiful sparkled, second
only to the late, great Ray’s. A National Treasure, he is
sorely missed. She’s got talent though. Pity she has been
overshadowed by the Christina Aguilera kerfuffle.
Now, the commercials:
-PJ doesn’t understand the fanfare about the Darth Vader kid.
But since he found out the kid has a congenital heart defect and
has a pacemaker, he gives this one a pass.
-The finger-sucking, pants-inhaling Dorito’s guy made PJ’s gerd
act up. The advertising agency responsible for that one needs
to be replaced. They forgot the purpose of an ad. PJ doesn’t
think he will ever eat a Dorito again.
-The Pepsi-Max commercial which featured hurtful, personal
violence replete with racial overtones, reminded PJ why he
features Coke at the Cinemas. It is interesting that all the
Pepsi commercials were hurtful in tone, whereas the Coke pieces,
it seems, are still trying to “furnish the world with love.”
Pepsi must really be angry. They hurl cans of their product
like bullets in Tucson.
-A Bud Light commercial poked fun at product endorsement in
movies. PJ liked this. It reminded him of Love and Other
Drugs, a movie which shamelessly promoted a product known as
Viagra. The Bud commercial with the gnarly cowboys singing
Tiny Dancer was amusing. It was reminiscent of the scene on the
bus in Almost Famous, one of PJ’s top 10 all-time movies. What
does “Grab some Buds” mean, anyway?
-PJ could be heard muttering OMG at the trailer for Cowboys and
Aliens featuring Harrison Ford. This had the feel of Snakes on
a Plane. Harrison, what are you thinking?
-The Career Building chimps were funny. But, once again, the
message had little to do with building a career. A waste of
three million dollars.
-Sealy’s “Whatever you do in bed, Sealy supports it” is a clever
slogan.
-PJ’s favorite was the beaver who returned the favor and saved
the life of the motorist by gnawing down a tree and blocking the
road. But what were they advertising? PJ can’t remember.
Perhaps then, more money wasted.
-Hugh Laurie maintained his malevolent House persona by
out-meaning Mean Joe Green. Who can ever forget the greatest
Super Bowl commercial of all time wherein Mean Joe threw the kid
his jersey for a can of Coke? Two constants: Coke is nice.
House throws slings, arrows, and canes.
-It was nice to see our old friend the “Can you hear me now?”
Verizon guy back again. He did put on some weight though.
Gone, however, except for a brief glimpse, were the Budweiser
Clydesdales, a mainstay of Super Bowl advertising lore.
And on Monday, PJ painted the portrait.
|
|
PJ, who grew up on a steady diet of TV Westerns,
had been waiting a long time to see True Grit. He had passed on
this movie for his Holiday line up, and, instead, opted for The
Fighter, Paramount’s other Christmas picture. Westerns these
days, he knew, never seem to “click” at the box office.
But, as often happens in the movie industry, predictions go
awry. True Grit, it turns out, performed quite well, and now
happens to be one of the highest grossing Westerns of all time.
Anyway, once in the throes of January, a lean time for new movie
releases, the opportunity to book the movie presented itself.
And so PJ, on the opening 1:00 Friday matinee, armed with a
wonton soup, a large popcorn, and, of course, chocolate almonds,
settled in for the Coen Brothers’s reprisal of the old John
Wayne flick. By the way…….don’t be thinking you can be bringing
Chinese food into the theater. This is a luxury reserved only
for ownership!
Now, let’s first share a thought or two about the Coen
Brothers. PJ has often been heard saying that if they just went
straight and created a “normal” movie, it would be destined to
become a classic. These guys are that good. Not unlike Quentin
Tarantino, however, their movies are always “out there”, yet
brilliant. PJ is still ruminating over the scholarly A Serious
Man. One must always look for subtlety , nuance, and symbolic
meaning in their movies. Every detail is well-thought, well
crafted, and meaningful.
But once again, another of PJ’s preconceived beliefs went awry.
True Grits’s fluidity was punctuated with distracting errors and
seeming incongruities. Some so extreme that PJ became focused on
these details and lost sight of the movie as a whole. But this
is a Coen Brothers flick. It had to be deliberate. Right?
It must be that the movie-makers were paying ironic and
nostalgic homage to all those poorly made Westerns of
yesteryear. They must have been poking affectionate fun. Or is
this movie just full of plain old dumb mistakes?
Let’s take a look at some of PJ’s observations and you
decide……….
-The movie takes place in a land of lawlessness, the Wild West.
Yet, Mattie repeatedly gets her way by threatening the modern
day method of getting one’s way: litigation. She’s going to
take everyone to court. But, she does not need to. Just one or
two well placed threats to sue the horse trader, and bam, he
cowers and caves. Almost everyone acquiesces to Mattie’s
knowledge of the law.
-Jeff Bridges’s character, Rooster Cogburn, claims he was with
Quantril (isn’t that a great name?) in Lawrence, Kansas. PJ
looked it up. Indeed 200 innocents were slaughtered there, yet
Rooster denies the massacre. He does, however, endure Mattie
and ensures her safety. Maybe he’s got a guilty conscience from
all those other women and children he killed in Lawrence.
-At first Rooster decides to leave without Mattie. She is a
stubborn little thing, though, and fords the river on her horse,
Little Blackie, to get to Mr. Cogburn. This is a treacherous
crossing, and she and the horse almost go completely
under--several times. Yet, when she reaches the opposite bank,
she is 100% totally bone dry. Little Blackie, too! A miracle?
A mistake? A poke of fun?
Whatever it was, it was disconcerting.
-Later again Mattie, who we now know is impervious to water, is
filling an enormous bucket that miraculously appeared. Where in
the world did it come from? Anyway, she is half up to her
knees, and then falls into the water from the recoil of her
gun. She, once again, in the very next scene is dry. Very.
How does she do this?
-Fluffy, windswept snowflakes are often seen blowing about. In
some scenes the wind is heard to howl, yet the tree branches are
still.
-And then there are the gunshot wounds. A joke in PJ’s family
when he was a kid was the oft-heard utterance in cowboy movies,
“It’s only a flesh wound.” Well, folks, True Grit takes the
flesh wound to a new level:
--Matt Damon has some really great recuperative powers. He is
no Shane. Shane’s shirt, if you remember, had a dark spot widen
as he rode off. Matt though bleeds for only a moment. He’s a
real coagulator! A bullet that traveled through his shoulder
and out his back neither hurt nor bled much at all. And
certainly it didn’t slow him down or diminish his aim with the
Sharps Carbine from 400 yards. He even lifted Mattie with the
bad arm onto Little Blackie after she was snakebit. Amazing!
And that awful mouth wound. Rooster was concerned that a tongue
wound couldn’t be bound, yet Matt gives a lovely smile a moment
later wherein his uppers, lowers, tongue, and lips which had all
been previously shredded, were portrait perfect. What a guy!
--Josh Brolin, it must be said, does seem a bit surprised when
he is shot in the abdomen. All the damage this bullet did,
however, was to confound Josh who pronounces that he thinks he
was hit in the short rib. PJ looked, but was unable to see a
hole in his shirt. Kevlar? And, of course, this shot didn’t
slow him down a bit either.
Near the end, it appears that Rooster is shot as well. But it
must have really only been a flesh wound. It takes more than a
bullet to slow down Rooster Cogburn!
-In the final scene we are told that up till three days ago
Rooster was in a Wild West show with Cole Younger and Frank
James. This scene takes place 25 years afterwards. OK, hold it
one minute….if you do the math and add 25 years to Rooster’s
apparent age, he’d have been about a 100 in 1903. His tombstone
claims he was 78, but Rooster sure didn’t look 53 in the movie.
(By the way, one thing the movie got right was that Wild West
Show. Cole and Frank did tour the country in a style similar to
the Buffalo Bill Cody Wild West Show.)
More errors abound, but PJ is thinking you are getting the
point, so enough. But he is puzzled. Were these
honest-to-goodness-errors? Or are the Coen Brothers, these
master film makers, poking fun at the Western genre with
deliberate miscues?
What ever the case, the continuity and serious nature of the
movie as a piece of art was damaged. It was for PJ, but
apparently not for the Academy.
True Grit, you see, has been nominated for ten awa
|
