Movie Review: Walk Hard

It's strange - about a week after seeing "Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story" I remember exactly three things: John C. Reilly, the great music and the penis.

A quick explanation on the last part - there's a scene in "Walk Hard," where Dewey Cox is in the middle of an orgy immediately after singing a love song about his wife. While he's on the phone with his beloved an unerect, unspectacular penis suddenly appears in the upper right-hand corner of the screen for no reason other than laughs. I laughed hard, so to speak.

There's no metaphor there. "Walk Hard" is what it is - a really good parody along the lines of "Airplane," with the best music of any motion picture this year. About once every two or three years a movie prompts me to go right out and buy the soundtrack. "Walk Hard" was that movie.

First, a word on John C. Reilly. He's the guy you always want to succeed but know he's going to be relegated to supporting roles from now until the end of time. In 'Walk Hard' he takes center stage and really sweats his performance. You can see the care that went into creating Dewey Cox , even though he's a disposable pleasure. Anyone committed to that level of authenticity for a goof, you've got to really appreciate.

All in all "Walk Hard," is really "Airplane" with better music, but oh what music. I can't remember laughing harder this year than I did at "Royal Jelly" the five-minute Bob Dylan tribute that accompanies Dewey's phase where he visits India and communes with the Dhali Lama. The title track is singularly catchy, and there's not a song with the exception of "You've Got to Love Your Negro Man" that I felt was out of place or unwarranted.

I guess, aside from the penis gag, the aspect of Walk Hard that continues to put a smile on my face is the idea that John C. finally got his moment in the sun and even though it was a monumental goof, he ran with it. Ran hard, as it were.

Good movie.

No One's Home

It's fair to say I consume quite a bit of media. My job often features design work and that work means I can put in my ear buds and listen to podcasts. Today's offerings included the lauded "This American Life" and the oft-fantastic "On The Media." I'm studying to be a really impassioned wonk, apparently.

"OTM" was first and featured a story about a man writing a book about the final moments of executions in Texas. One story he related concerned a condemned man who started singing "Silent Night" upon the administering of the lethal injection. He started to sputter and choke about the time he hit "mother and child," effectively ruining in the song for the author.

Then comes "TAM" where they did a story about a person whose job it is to track down relatives of people who die alone. Two things I learned from the story: 1) bodies with no family and no money for burial are cremated by the state, the ashes held for five years. After that time the ashes are mixed with the ashes of all the other unclaimed bodies in a mass grave and given a funeral, which is attended by only a sparse few social workers. 2)Things like voice mail never disappear. This last point led to a moment in the broadcast where they play a woman's voice mail message, after she died alone and was buried in a mass, state-sponsored grave. Her voice is appropriately haunting.

"This is a message phone.
No name
No number
No message
No answer"

I don't know what it means but it was like hearing a ghost story as a kid. The stomach bottoms out, the tingles go through you. You feel legitimately scared at something. It was almost like a David Lynch scene.

THEN, I saw "Charlie Wilson's War" tonight. I'll write up a review in the next few days, but it's 2/3rds light, frothy political fun reminiscent of the best of the West Wing, and 1/3 depressing-as-hell "American foreign policy destroys women and children and we deserve what we get" kind of message.

Last thing, promise. My girls are away for the next few days, so I'm fending for myself. No big deal, I have a fridge full of food and a Christmas' worth of movies to keep me company.

But here's the thing - after listening and watching some of the most depressing fare in the world back-to-back-to-back, I don't feel depressed. It's a general...funkiness that's more akin to fear than it is to depression. I figure, with depression, you feel bad about something wrong with you. With this, it's something wrong with the world.

I remember once in college getting three or four pieces of bad news in a row about classmates - one had been raped, one was anorexic, one guy had hit his girlfriend, I think - and going on this tear in the middle of the night in an abandoned student lounge about how messed up the world is and how something had to be done. It's awfully naive, but at the time I don't think I believed anything in my life more than I believe something needed to change in my community and people needed to hear what I had heard and feel like I felt.

Of course, that's bullshit but I remember starting in a group that worked against underage drinking, which is funny because now alcohol and I have a very nice, cordial relationship. But the zeal wore off and I didn't change a damn thing. And the world is still messed up. Imagine that.

No message, no answer. Aint that the truth.

Dirty Words For A Good Cause

Comedy, Politics, Naps

Comedy - I'm driving Jordan, my little brother through Big Brothers Big Sisters, home after the BBBS Christmas Party tonight, and we somehow get on the subject of comedy. He brings up Dane Cook. He's a fan.

"I probably wouldn't listen to Dane Cook with you in the room," I say. "He gets a little raunchy."

"It's not bad," Jordan said. "He's funny."

Treading on dangerous ground, I start talking about my favorite stand-ups: Wright, Black, Poundstone and Carlin. He's never heard of George Carlin. I realize I'm a mentor and have to be a forthright, decent influence on this young man's life, but damn it some things need to be rectified.

"Have you ever heard of the 7 words you can't say on TV?"

"The 7 dirty words? Yeah, I know that."

"George Carlin did that."

I then launch into a(n edited) bit about the English language I memorized for my stand-up show in August. Jordan chuckles a bit and promises to look him up.

It's strange, but I feel like I've made more a difference bringing the idea of George Carlin into Jordan's life than I normally do. Then, there's an e-mail I got from a friend of mine last week which talks about a jury she served on that decided the fate of a man accused of murder. Mentoring was brought up at one point - how this man could have taken a different road that didn't end in incarceration if he had a positive male influence in his life.

I ask you, is there a better positive male roll model than George Carlin? Kidding. It just felt kind of good being the guy with the experience and sharing it with the kid who had the enthusiasm. I might get the hand of this mentoring thing yet.

Politics - Over the past day or so I've read a lot about the two debates for Republican and Democratic presidential candidates and have learned about 4 things from the national media.

1. The Des Moines register format sucked.

2. The "spin room" was small.

3. Alan Keys is from another planet.

4. Nothing of substance happened.

Not terribly thoughtful analysis, but I'm pretty sure without watching either debate that the media didn't have a lot to work with. What I wish, sincerely, is for a way for debates to actually help people make up their mind or an abolition of the process. Right now it seems like a colossal waste of time. Kind of like a few of the campaigns at this point.

Naps - No sleep. Again. It's starting to take it's toll and the caffeine isn't keeping up. The biggest manifestation today: I fell asleep on my couch after sitting down for about 20 seconds. My butt hit the cushion and my body effectively said "OK, we're shutting down now." I woke up five minutes later to my oldest daughter saying "Dad, are you listening to me?" No, sweetheart, I wasn't.

On the upside, the baby and I watched "The Elephant Man" last night while she wasn't sleeping. What a fantastic movie.

Finally, A Format!

OK. I've been floundering out here. You know it, I know it. The reason for the flopping and gill gasping is, obviously, I have no format.

No more. I'm stealing the basic Livejournal format. Why not just Livejournal? Because I don't like being forced into that format. It might be nice to force myself to adhere to the format, but I don't like being forced by someone else.

So the format begins today and I'll try to post as much as possible. Cool? OK.

Today: Life, Politics, Movies

Life - I haven't gone on about this nearly enough but my daughter Tessa doesn't sleep. She'll nod, she'll doze, she'll snooze, she'll get really tired, but she will not sleep. Which means I don't sleep. Which means I get cranky, mean and overly emotional. It sounds strange, but you try sleeping 4 1/2 hours a night in hour-and-a-half intervals and see what happens to you.

The worst part is I get mad at Tessa, who is blameless and helpless. Last night, after an hour of bright eyes in a darkened room, I finally threw her binky as hard as I could across the living room into the kitchen. It hasn't been found. Losing control is not the mark of a responsible man, but rather a manchild undeserving of so many things.

As a result, today has been one of those "what's the point" kind of days. I can't, for the life of me, feel like I mean anything or am anything to anyone. It's a normal ebb of serotonin or noraepenephron in the brain, but it still feels awful. I also had a day where I made a couple mistakes at work and heard about it. It's strange, I'm very busy at work and I don't feel like I'm pulling any weight. Enough bitching. I've had some great moments today, especially with Emaline who has a cold and sounds like Cathleen Turner. It's so cute, and we'll see how sleep goes tonight.

Politics - Morgan Spurlock always struck me as a guy with big ideas who's ability might be a little below his ambition. But mark me, in the next few months you're going to be hearing a ton about good Mr. Spurlock (who I met about two years ago and genuinely liked).

Rumor has it he started a movie called "The Search for Bin Laden" or some such, and took a 15-minute clip to a film festival for bidding. The Weinstein Company paid Spurlock 25 million dollars on the strength of those 15 minutes. The question is - what could possibly elicit such a giant paycheck? Could the guy who made "Supersize Me" actually have an interview with the terrorist who masterminded 9-11?

One of two things will happen in the next little bit. Either Spurlock is lying or has been deceived and his career is OVER (and I can't stress the word OVER enough), or he actually found Bin Laden, doing what the supposed bulk of the US intelligence agencies and military is unable to do. Chances are great this is nothing, but imagine for a second what happens if this is real. The implications are layered and huge, and everyone in the country will have an opinion.

I hope it's real just because it's unprecedented. I also think Spurlock is a well meaning guy. If he's lying, I'll be first in line to spank him with a paddle. If it's real, hoooooooly shhhhhiiiiiiiit!

Movies - Is anyone else totally digging the fact that the words "Tim Burton" and "Oscar" are being mentioned rather frequently in the movie press? I absolutely love it. I've been a big fat Burton fan for years, and while it may have gotten a little "goth" there for a minute or two, largely I've been a fan because of his storytelling ability. A friend of mine pointed out, not incorrectly that Burton might be the "world's prettiest set dresser" but argued he wasn't much of a filmmaker. I say it takes someone with an innate sense of storytelling to see a movie in a mess of a story like "Beetlejuice." I think he's solid with streaks of inspired and it looks like "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" might net him Oscar gold.

It just makes me smile, is all.

Jesus said "Do You Feel Lucky" Part 2

Oops.

"Matthew Murray was shot multiple times by a security guard as he tried to enter the New Life Church, but ultimately succumbed to a self-inflicted gunshot wound, a coroner determines."

I guess it wasn't God after all.

And Jesus Said "Do Ya Feel Lucky?"

I know I'm harping on religion lately, but it's something I've been struggling with for a little while. I'm told it's common - anyone who's had faith for a long time goes through times when they doubt, question, search, whatever. My particular permutation is, basically, to get pissed off at other Christians who aren't struggling.

But, seriously, Atheist, Agnostic, or anyone of any faith promoting peace would do well to get pissed off at this douche bag. From CNN:

"Jeanne Assam, the volunteer security officer and congregant who shot a gunman Sunday at New Life Church in Colorado, said she felt weak as she approached him because she had been fasting. "I prayed for the Holy Spirit to guide me," she said. "My hands weren't even shaking. I knew what I had to do.""

Forget the adrenaline. Forget the fact that you're posed with a terrible situation. Forget needing to kill someone to protect your family and friends. Forget the setting and the circumstance.

God told you it was a good idea to kill a guy? Seriously? OK. If that's how you want to play it.

There are very few phrases, words or actions that can shut down a legitimate conversation faster than "God Told Me To." I don't care what God told you to do, even if it seems completely rational or even inspired, when God told you to do it, it suddenly becomes very comfortable for me to label you a cook. A walnut. A couple rounds short of a clip. Someone who uses God as a crutch. I could go on.

Two more major gripes:

1) Anyone who tells the NATIONAL FREAKING MEDIA that she's fasting out of pious love for God, in the words of the Bible, "have received their reward." They also deserve to be thrown against a brick wall six or seven times.

2) If the holy spirit, the ghost with the most, had the where with all to take this woman's hand (weak from fasting) to shoot the guy who wanted to harm the congregation, why didn't the ghost just stop the shooter? "God works in mysterious ways?" Shut the f*** up.

I guess what makes me sad is how so many awful things happen in this world without explanation without the benefit of God's direct intervention. Genocides, gang shootings, random acts of violence, despots, serial killers, on and on and on. If only all these things happened in a church, God would intervene directly, huh? The implication is this woman is better than everyone else because God made her shoot this guy, even if it was heroic. All those victims are getting what they deserve in the eyes of God, following this logic.

Onward Christian Soldiers.

The Tone Is Bothering Me

Tonight, there's been a crawl on the bottom of my TV for about two hours hyping 10/11's coverage of the Omaha mall shooting. They have one bit of information - that the shooter left a note saying he would "go out in style." His mug and the same info. top CNN right now.

Just a second...yup, the crawl is still going.

Not the names of the dead. Not any information about whether this shooter had other plans or other friends with guns. Not reaction from officials. Just a nugget, saying he planned this. No shit.

Clear, concise conflict is the hallmark of TV journalism - hell, journalism. There must be good, there must be bad and if there's a chance for actual policy change or nudity, you've got yourself a ratings winner. Here, you've got bad (the shooter) and the good (you). It's rare you can put such a large number of people in one category.

But I hate this stage of this story right now for the tragic implications, obviously, but also because this little asshole couldn't have served up a better story to the media unless he's done it while screwing Paris Hilton. He didn't just kill people, he killed shoppers. Christmas shoppers. There will be no discussion of mental illness or the many reasons this jerk couldn't have just gone and not taken others with him. It will be about the mall, about every salacious detail of this twisted kid's life, of the mourning, because we all learn so much by watching other people cry on camera.

The stories haven't aired yet and I could write what's going to be on my TV in about 10 minutes. No compassion but fake compassion ("tell me about the victim"). No small detail too menial to talk about. No grandiose statement about this incident too over the top. "Nebraska mourns tonight." "...disturbed young man." "...as they were Christmas shopping."

Wait for it.

(goes to watch the news)

Yep.

By the way, Matt, I'm really glad you're OK.

Body Functions

Just to give you an idea of what a lazy Saturday is like at my house, today I have personally cleaned up:

-sheets from a baby's bassinet after a late night poop explosion
-little balls of gel/poop that came out of a diaper my dog pulled out of a trash and chewed on
-the resulting vomit from said pooch
-milk spilled on the carpet in the TV room
-various goup from dishes
-dog poop (this is pretty much a daily occurrence)
-ice from my driveway, car window and backyard
-my oldest child's hot dog vomit from my living room carpet

G to the L to the AMOROUS!