
...National Get Off Sarah Jessica Parker's back day. You can start again tomorrow.
A notebook of links and commentary on film and the arts, with occasional stabs at understanding current events. A mix of the serious and the silly, and with a special emphasis on Ms. Natalie Portman.

A native of Chicago, Mr. Korman studied drama there and then tried, unsuccessfully, to break into show business in New York City.
"For the next 13 years I tried to get on Broadway, on off-Broadway, under or beside Broadway," he said in an 1971 interview.
Eventually he gave up and returned to Chicago, but he later went to California to try again. After subsisting as a car salesman and movie doorman, in the mid-1960s he began getting minor movie parts, doing voice-overs as the Great Gazoo on “The Flintstones” and winning a TV spot on “The Danny Kaye Show.”

If that theory holds water––and assuming all theories about the characters that an actor plays can be seamlessly transposed to apply to the actor’s actual life––than the fact that Murray is now being divorced by his wife of a decade on the grounds of “adultery, addiction to marijuana and alcohol, abusive behavior, physical abuse, sexual addictions and frequent abandonment,” basically makes perfect sense. With the exception of the physical abuse (which is so inherently not funny that it’s not really possible to justify it within a single, speciously reasoned blog post), this seems like the stuff of a Lost in Translation sequel, the story of what happened after he left Tokyo and went home to face his family and found himself incapable of taking responsibility for the transference of affection.
Asked by moderator Jeff Shannon to elaborate on what he meant by saying “I teach arrogance” to his acting students, Abraham replied: “All of art is basically arrogance. Any creative artist is arrogant. You’re a creator—what does that put you next to? How else can you stand up in front of 5000 people and not control them, but take them with you?” Of his own training, he confessed that the longer he studied with Uta Hagen, the worse he got—that in emulating her techniques, he lost his own: “Don’t fall under their influence completely, forgetting everything you know. Don’t try too hard to please—find your own way.”

Thus, apropos of nothing but my enduring affection for her (today's neither Ms. Kahn's birthday nor is it the anniversary of her passing), I decided to call a special event in her memory: a day on which bloggers of all stripes might express their particular appreciations of La Kahn. The day has arrived, and the posts are rolling in.
While at the cinema yesterday, I read a notice posted by the box office that Paramount has intentionally silenced bits of the soundtrack of _Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull_ in order to deter and track piracy. The notice acknowledged that the momentary silences were annoying but that it was out of their control. Basically it said, please don't bug the manager if the sound drops out, unless it lasts more than a minute.


For the crew that has just finished filming the movie version of “The Road” — a joint production of 2929 and Bob Weinstein’s Dimension Films, set to open in November — that meant an upending of the usual rules of making a movie on location. Bad weather was good and good weather bad. “A little fog, a little drizzle — those are the good days,” Mark Forker, the movie’s director of special effects, remarked one morning in late April while the crew was shooting some of the final scenes in the book on a stretch of scraggly duneland by the shore of Lake Erie here. “Today is a bad day,” he added, shaking his head and squinting.
But here's what really annoys me: supposedly reputable news outlets and reporters are now picking up erroneous information from gossip websites like Defamer. This is wrong on so many levels that I'm dismayed. Which is why I've decided to go behind-the-scenes of one such egregious and recent example of a showbiz reporting inaccuracy:
The beneficiary of the offensive explosion was - you guessed it - Jamie Moyer, who beat the Rockies for the first time in his career.
The 45-year-old Moyer, the oldest player in major-league knickers, has now beaten all 30 teams in the majors. He is the sixth pitcher to do so, joining Kevin Brown, Al Leiter, Terry Mulholland, Woody Williams and Curt Schilling.
His reaction? "I guess I've been around a long time."
Moyer is now 5-3 and 235-181 in his career. The Phils have scored 11, 10, 12 and 20 runs, respectively, in his last four wins. If he keeps getting that kind of support, he may pitch until he's 55.


Pollack spoke of his preference for working with big stars in an interview with New York Times in 1982.
"Stars are like thoroughbreds," he said. "Yes, it's a little more dangerous with them. They are more temperamental. You have to be careful because you can be thrown. But when they do what they do best -- whatever it is that's made them a star -- it's really exciting."
Sometimes, he added, "if you have a career like mine, which is so identified with Hollywood, with big studios and stars, you wonder if maybe you shouldn't go off and do what the world thinks of as more personal films with lesser-known people. But I think I've fooled everybody. I've made personal films all along. I just made them in another form."
The most passionately debated movie of the festival, however, Mr. Soderbergh’s “Che,” had yet to find an American distributor by Sunday evening. This four-and-a-half-hour portrait of Ernesto Guevara, the Argentine doctor who became a leader of the Cuban revolution, sharply divided the critics, whose support will be crucial to its chances. Similarly, no American buyers had yet materialized for two other highly anticipated American films, Charlie Kaufman’s “Synecdoche, New York,” and James Gray’s “Two Lovers,” both of which also received mixed verdicts from critics and were passed over by the jury.
As always with Cannes, some of the most satisfying films were not found in the official competition. Perhaps the most out and out enjoyable was Bent Hamer's small wonder, the luminous and deliciously funny "O'Horten," a fine successor to an earlier Hamer creation, the knockout "Kitchen Stories."
Osgood has refined his butterfly style somewhat although he has always been a butterfly goaltender. He has sought more coaching and he has figured out how to succeed without being the No. 1 netminder.
But the most important asset that Osgood carries into the Stanley Cup final is one that he's shown throughout his career. Resilience.
"Some players can’t do it; Other guys can," said Osgood. "That’s how you see whether guys are mentally tough, when it’s bad. When it’s easy, it’s easy to play. You just roll along, everything’s great, everybody’s smiling. But when it’s tough, that’s when you see who are the players and who aren’t. I think I’ve always been tough mentally."
Mr. Jarman died of complications from AIDS in 1994, at 52, and perhaps the time is ripe for reappraisal. “Derek,” a documentary tribute by Isaac Julien that had its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in January, will screen at the Museum of Modern Art in New York from June 9 through 16. On June 24 Zeitgeist Films, the distributor that helped introduce Mr. Jarman to American audiences, is releasing “Glitterbox,” a DVD set that represents a cross section of his films: the neo-Brechtian biopics “Caravaggio” (1986) and “Wittgenstein” (1993); the homoerotic reverie “The Angelic Conversation” (1985); and his monochrome valediction, “Blue” (1993), as moving an epitaph as any artist has ever composed for himself.
DollhouseForums' trailblazing leader Nathan posted the following as a call to arms: "After seeing some of my favorite television shows get canceled in the past -- as well as the 'save this show' campaigns that followed -- I had the idea that a fan campaign BEFORE the show begins may be the best thing to do."
A Facebook fan page dedicated to the online campaign already has nearly 1,500 members.
Some worry the efforts are overkill and will become a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. At fan site Whedonesque, several commenters suggest that such pre-emptive campaigning will negatively affect the show.

By the finale of the film -- which has Finn realizing that he's actually being followed by Death, personified as Dennis Hopper, and then the two having a nice chit-chat about the nature of existence, the way of all flesh and Death's opinion that film photography is more artistic than digital, the audience was riveted, but really more in that grim way where they were waiting solely out of intellectual curiosity, to see how things could go wrong next.
You think Natalie Portman's actually going to stand up to Sean Penn? You think Alfonso Cauron and Sergio Castellitto don't have better things to do with their lives than bicker with a steamrolling Yankee asshole? (Castellitto, many of you will be happy to learn, was just cast in a new film by...wait for it...Jacques Rivette, to co-star Jane Birkin.) You think Apitchatpong Weerasethakul is anything but just happy to be there? No. The only jury member I can see giving Penn any significant resistance is feisty Persepolis creator Marjane Satrapi, who delivered the lone rejoinder to the president's asinine relevance rules at the opening press conference. And she's likely to be pretty partial to Waltz, for reasons easily inferable.
As ever, it's hard not to respect the sheer number of ideas, concerns and subtexts Egoyan touches on, from the difficulty of cross-cultural communication to the human tendency to construct alternate realities and identities. While the script steers clear of the minefield of Mideast politics, it foregrounds the three major Western religions throughout, not least in the way it conflates pregnant Rachel's trip to Israel with the story of Jesus' birth.
But the common charge against Egoyan, that he's more intellectual than dramatist, holds true here, in a film too contrived and prone to spelling itself out to achieve the catharsis it strains for at the end. Khanjian, the helmer's wife and ensemble regular, is given one blunt speech after another as the talkative prof who's either a bold provocateur or a few sheep short of a nativity scene.
THR: IN THE END, WHAT WAS THE EXPERIENCE OF DIRECTING LIKE FOR YOU?
Kaufman: It was hard, but satisfying. Early on I had a hard time even meeting the actors (laughs) when we were doing the other films, I was so nervous. But when you're directing it's very clear: You have to. I can't hide in the back of the room when I'm directing something. The necessity of it makes it doable. I think there's a lot to be said for having to do something.

Of course, some people have always been more naturally inclined toward oversharing than others. Technology just enables us to overshare on a different scale. Long before I had a blog, I found ways to broadcast my thoughts — to gossip about myself, tell my own secrets, tell myself and others the ongoing story of my life. As soon as I could write notes, I passed them incorrigibly. In high school, I encouraged my friends to circulate a notebook in which we shared our candid thoughts about teachers, and when we got caught, I was the one who wanted to argue about the First Amendment rather than gracefully accept punishment. I walked down the hall of my high school passing out copies of a comic-book zine I drew, featuring a mock superhero called SuperEmily, who battled thinly veiled versions of my grade’s reigning mean girls. In college, I sent out an all-student e-mail message revealing that an ex-boyfriend shaved his chest hair. The big difference between these youthful indiscretions and my more recent ones is that you can Google my more recent ones.
Once I'm finished, I load up Twelver's profile, then toss him on the board. I decide to start him off with some Yoga training. I click on "Deep Breathing." His man-trainer comes on-screen and does a demo. "Now you try it," he says to Twelver. "Breathe in ... and breathe out."
Twelver doesn't do anything.
"You're a little unsteady, Twelver," the trainer says. "Focus on standing still."
But after the exercise, to my surprise, Twelver is awarded the full 100 points (the most possible), four stars (also the most possible), and the title of Yoga Master.
Good thing then, as far as my opinion is concerned, that Soderbergh doesn't have a rabble-rousing bone in his body. "Che" benefits greatly from certain Soderberghian qualities that don't always serve his other films well, e.g., detachment, formalism, and intellectual curiosity. The two parts of "Che" treat two discrete periods in Ernesto Guevara's life: his participation in the Cuban revolution of 1957-59, wherein he was Fidel Castro's second in overthrowing the tyrannical Batista regime is depicted in "Guerilla"; his dreadfully abortive attempt to spread Latin-American revolution in Bolivia from 1966 to 1967 in the subject of "The Argentine." This structure very conveniently elides the period wherein Che, as effective co-head of Castro's Cuban government, presided over mass executions, the persecution of homosexuals, the ruination of the island's economy, the ill-fated alliance with the Soviet Union, and so on.
This isn't just a Blu-ray issue, it's going to affect ALL high-definition presentations of older films, if we allow it to. Film enthusiasts (and those at the studios who actually CARE about and respect the integrity of older films) need to really start educating people on this subject - new Blu-ray consumers, friends and family, fellow studio employees. FILM IS SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE FILM. Older titles on Blu-ray are NOT supposed to look perfect, as if they were shot today on video! The Blu-ray presentation should replicate, as closely as possible, the best original theatrical experience of the film. THAT'S the goal. I'll tell you right now, this is an important issue, just as anamorphic enhancement and presenting films in their original aspect ratios on DVD were before it. As we did with those issues, you better believe it's something the staff here at The Digital Bits will take up as a crusade with the Hollywood studios if it becomes necessary. So you studio folks... let's just say that you'd better get this one right, or you'll definitely be hearing about it from us in the months ahead (and, we suspect, from many others as well).

But, but, but: after dozing on and off for the film’s first twenty or thirty minutes, I awoke to see Joaquin Phoenix breakdancing his way into the arms of Gwyneth Paltrow, and for whatever reason, from that point on I was sort of into it. About an hour later I became totally sucked in, when that moment of dance floor silliness met its dissonant counterpoint with a second, far more desperate scene of Phoenix dancing his way into Paltrow’s arms. It’ll be too little too late for some, but in its final third, Two Lovers becomes an extremely strong parable about the madness of romantic love, and maybe even its impossibility.

Q: Most thrilling musical experience?
A: My most thrilling musical experience was in Time Square, over thirty years ago. There was a rehearsal hall around the Brill Building where all the rooms were divided into tiny spaces with just enough room to open the door. Inside was a spinet piano- cigarette burns, missing keys, old paint and no pedals. You go in and close the door and it's so loud from other rehearsals you can't really work- so you stop and listen and the goulash of music was thrilling. Scales on a clarinet, tango, light opera, sour string quartet, voice lessons, someone belting out "Everything's Coming Up Roses", garage bands, and piano lessons. The floor was pulsing, the walls were thin. As if ten radios were on at the same time, in the same room. It was a train station of music with all the sounds milling around... for me it was heavenly.

The VOGUE spread restores a bit of the legitimate, grown-up class that has seemed to be lacking from the SATC campaign all along (see: the Houlihans thing, the Fergie thing). Cannes likely would have been able to accomplish the same thing; the VOGUE spread is probably cheaper, and it has the affect of reaching an audience of comparable demographics as those who would be exposed to as Cannes coverage, without ever having to make the actual quality of the actual film an issue (the story actually reads as if author Plum Sykes didn’t see the film before press time; even if she had, she seems unlikely to be convinced that the movie itself is more important than the photoshoot within it). New Line just fired hundreds of people. Such frugality on their part is almost respectable.
Why did I think I would be in a minority? Because of what David Poland at Movie City News poetically described as "one idiot." As everybody knows, an exhibitor attended a closed-door screening last week, and filed a review with the Ain't It Cool News website. This single wrong-headed, anonymous review was the peg on which The New York Times based a breathless story on a negative early reaction to the film. That story inspired widespread coverage: Were Spielberg and Lucas making a mistake by showing their film at Cannes? Would it turn out to be a fiasco like showing "The Da Vinci Code" there? The Code got terrible reviews, and only managed to gross something like $480 million dollars at the box office--suggesting, if not to the Times, that even a negative reception at Cannes might not cut Indy off at the knees.
Not long ago, I listened to him play a recording of “Okiedoke,” a tune that Parker recorded in 1949 with Machito and His Afro-Cuban Orchestra. Schaap, in his pontifical baritone, first provided routine detail on the session and Parker’s interest (via Dizzy Gillespie) in Latin jazz, and then, like a car hitting a patch of black ice, he veered off into a riff of many minutes’ duration on the pronunciation and meaning of the title—of “Okiedoke.” Was it “okey-doke” or was it, rather, “ ‘okey-dokey,’ as it is sometimes articulated”? What meaning did this innocent-seeming entry in the American lexicon have for Bird? And how precisely was the phrase used and understood in the black precincts of Kansas City, where Parker grew up? Declaring a “great interest in this issue,” Schaap then informed us that Arthur Taylor, a drummer of distinction “and a Bird associate,” had “stated that Parker used ‘okeydokey’ as an affirmative and ‘okeydoke’ as a negative.” And yet one of Parker’s ex-wives had averred otherwise, saying that Parker used “okeydoke” and “okeydokey” interchangeably.

“Unprecedented” isn’t a term you hear much in pop music these days, not even in indie circles, and the obvious comfort with which Pallett uses it is closely tied to Final Fantasy’s appeal. An unabashedly articulate 28-year-old with a degree in classical composition from the University of Toronto, Pallett makes no secret of his commitment to reinvigorating pop. “There’s this utopian idea — a cult, really — that an artist should have infinite means at his disposal,” Pallett told me over lunch at a vegan cafe. “But to me that’s not interesting. The boundaries of what I’m doing as Final Fantasy define the whole project: I choose to perform solo, and to write songs in the pop idiom, so neither of those two things are limitations. They’re choices I made.”

I'm happy for her, but I can't help but miss the good ol' days. She might have been wild, and she might have shocked many -- but she had a great spark, one that seems to have disappeared inside the current carefully manufactured icon she is today.
The gleam might be hidden these days, but luckily we're living in a world of DVD entertainment. We can head back to the past whenever we want to. What follows are my two favorite Jolie gigs. They're far from the best movies, but they definitely embody both the old Angelina, and a certain period of '90s rebellion. I give you: Hackers and Foxfire.

His long association with David Bowie was crucial. The one-time glam-rock rivals first worked intensively on Bowie's so-called "Berlin Trilogy". Though Eno was only partially involved in the first, Low, and Tony Visconti produced this, and Heroes, in 1977, he was a vital sounding-board, agile enough to keep up with Bowie's ideas. His synthesiser experiments were the basis for the bleak electronic instrumentation of Low's "Warszawa", and both albums would become founding texts (along with Kraftwerk's albums) for the synth-pop that defined the 1980s. Joy Division were named Warsaw early on, in homage.

I blame R. Kelly for Sept. 11. When the judge asked one prospective juror about his feelings regarding Kelly, he cryptically answered: "R. Kelly may have led the Taliban in attacking us on 9-11, but you can't prove it." You're right, we can't. In fact, we're fairly certain that no one has ever tried.


David Mamet's recent "Redbelt" is an example of a kind of movie that needs a name. It's not precisely a thriller, or a suspense picture, or a police procedural, and although it occupies the territory of film noir, it's not a noir. I propose this kind of film be named a Twister, because it's made from plot twists, and in a way the twists are the real subject.
Thomas Denton of comic blog Say It Backwards has a nephew who was diagnosed with cancer. A charity called Candlelighters helped his family out. Thomas decided to use his connections in the comics world to organize some charitable auctions featuring original artwork by various artists to give something back to the organization. Apparently Time Warner (who own DC comics, who in turn own Superman, Batman and most of the cool superheroes who wear capes) objected to the selling of the pieces featuring their copyrighted and trademarked characters on eBay, specifically Superman from what I understand.
No American artist, Jasper Johns once said, invented more than Mr. Rauschenberg. Mr. Johns, John Cage, Merce Cunningham and Mr. Rauschenberg, without sharing exactly the same point of view, collectively defined this new era of experimentation in American culture.
Apropos of Mr. Rauschenberg, Cage once said, “Beauty is now underfoot wherever we take the trouble to look.” Cage meant that people had come to see, through Mr. Rauschenberg’s efforts, not just that anything, including junk on the street, could be the stuff of art (this wasn’t itself new), but that it could be the stuff of an art aspiring to be beautiful — that there was a potential poetics even in consumer glut, which Mr. Rauschenberg celebrated.
Pic will take the core characters Gobo, Wembley, Mokey, Boober and Red outside of their home in Fraggle Rock, where they interact with humans, which they think are aliens. The show premiered on HBO in 1983, ran five seasons and was broadcast in more than 80 countries. It posted strong sales recently when the first three seasons were released on DVD.
I read a lot on the road, and listen to a lot of books on tape. I also run almost every day, either in the gym of a hotel or on the streets of a city, so I bring my running clothes. My show clothes are durable and dark colored suits and shirts and I have enough of them that I don't have to wear the same sweaty rags night after night. For the most part. My white linen suit period became a whole scale disaster when it coincided with my Canadian winter mud-tour period.
One of these coming films takes a look at the harsh realities of school: "American Teen" is a documentary that follows the lives of five real high schoolers in the Midwest. Another takes a nostalgic approach: "The Wackness," a comedy starring Ben Kingsley and set in New York during the mid-1990s, tells the story of a high-school kid who trades dope for therapy sessions. "Hamlet 2" is the musical version: the comedy, which set off major bidding wars at this year's Sundance Film Festival, centers on a washed-up actor-turned-high-school drama teacher (Steve Coogan) who writes a musical sequel to Shakespeare's "Hamlet" for his class to perform.
Old-school viewers may have a tough time adjusting to Tracey’s fragmentation, but even they might appreciate McDonald’s surprising compositional grace, which culminates in a beautiful, melancholy riverside tracking shot under the end credits.”

"Why would he pick Topsy-Turvy,” the woman standing in front of me in line at the Castro Theatre asked with genuine puzzlement. Mike Leigh was being honored at the San Francisco International Film Festival last Wednesday, and it was safe to assume he would be reviving many of the same questions he was asked when the film, his selection to be shown at the evening’s event, first came out in 1999. Coming from the maker of High Hopes, Naked, and Secrets & Lies, a plush costume drama set in the 1880s and focusing on the genesis of a Gilbert & Sullivan comic operetta seemed like a perverse curveball.
Robinson: “This is a very uplifting movie, even singing ‘Sad Songs’ at the end seems very uplifting.”
Reed: “Somebody said ‘the act of writing is an act of optimism.’"
Schnabel: “That’s a fragment of something [Andrei] Tarkovsky said. He said that art is different than life because art is a representation of life and therefore it doesn’t contain death. Life contains death. So making art is life-affirming. So even if the art is tragic, it’s still optimistic. There can never be pessimistic artists, there can only be mediocrity.
When a critic votes with a vast majority, I think one reason is that some films are obviously good or bad (in the eyes of most people). But when one lonely critic stands apart from the mob, there may be a message to be learned, and that may be the critic you should make a point of reading, assuming he or she has been interesting in the past. There may be a special expertise or sensitivity coming into view, or a film may have been made with such specialized intent that its qualities are invisible to the majority. Or, sometimes, it may be the auteur theory at work, and the critic may be so invested in the work of that director that he or she sees things that reach specifically to his wave length.

Nobel Peace Prize winner and international symbol of freedom Nelson Mandela is flagged on U.S. terrorist watch lists and needs special permission to visit the USA. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice calls the situation "embarrassing," and some members of Congress vow to fix it.
Well, my friends, I suggest you take all of your clothes off, pull your head out of your ass, unfasten your sofa seatbelt, push back the furniture, lay down some newspaper or a drop cloth to protect your personal items, pour a salty beverage and stand akimbo to watch The Guatemalan Handshake. This movie NEEDS your attention. Watch it and then watch it again. Break things. Sing songs. Blow your nose. Stuff needs to come out of you as a result of this experience. If not, it's cinema's funeral.
And in August, Anna Faris stars in a comedy called “The House Bunny,” in which she plays a Playboy Bunny who is ejected from the Mansion because she’s too old. In a trailer for the movie Ms. Faris’s pretty-in-pink character responds to her firing with surprise. “I’m 27!” she yelps. “But that’s like 59 in Bunny years,” a male friend explains. In Hollywood years too, he might as well have added.
I admit that I laughed at the 59 line, mostly because Ms. Faris — who could be the next Judy Holliday but without the right material will, alas, probably end up the next Brittany Murphy — tends to do the dumb-blonde thing with sizable quotation marks. But I also winced. You can’t judge a film by its trailer, so I won’t boil this bunny sight unseen. I’ll just point out that it looks like a clone of “Legally Blonde” (meaning, yet another iteration of “Pretty Woman”), one of those aspirational comedies in which women empower themselves by having their hair and nails done. In this case Ms. Faris’s character takes charge of a sorority of unkempt brainiacs with boy troubles. Cue the group makeover and pop-tune montage.

