Saturday, August 20, 2005

how steve time is good time

i had my plans fall though on me tonight, and faced with a night all to myself (a shock), i decided to do something i haven't done in awhile: a movie doubleheader.

a couple of problems: i really want to see "the 40-year-old virgin", but i don't want to see it in a cineplex sitting in front of some 16-year-old assholes who can't shut up for five minutes. also, if i hear another cellphone go off in a theater, i will, too.

so, being that i actually enjoy the theater experience, i chose two movies that i really wanted to see and can play in front of an audience that will actually appreciate it: jim jarmusch's "broken flowers" starring bill murray, and "the aristocrats".

problem is that they're not playing in the same theater.

so i decided on breaking a cardinal rule, and actually decided that i will pay for both of them. but therein lied the olympic-sized dilemma: "broken flowers" started at 7:30 in the embarcadero, and "the aristocrats" began at 9:45 at "the bridge". yes, that's from one end of san francisco to the other.

can i do it? can one man beat the odds but not the system?

at the embarcadero center, san francisco for $10

remember when you came to realize how amazing of an actor bill murray really is? that happened to me during "rushmore". but then we saw another layer of him, as a detached observing character, in "lost in translation" that he played again in "the life aquatic". and, although i'm not saying he's not great, but he played the same exact character again - the one who just sits there and observes life as it's passing him by - and he's great, but i got it already. he can pull that off well.

that's not a complaint. it's just an observation.

anyway, the movie is wonderful, funny, heartfelt, honest, quirky, insane and utterly human. or, simply put, it's a jim jarmusch film. if, for nothing else, go to see jeffrey wright's performance, but when is that ever not the case? actually, all the performances were spot on, and the footage very raw and poetic, and it's got a really cool ending to it.

it's a damn fine film, and one that let out just 10 minutes before the start of the next one.

so i grabbed a cab quickly and told my driver of the dilemma. and that sonuvabitch swerved and weaved and made up those five miles in seven minutes flat. and, with a couple of minutes to spare, i tipped my man $4 on the $11 fare and told him that he is the champion of all that is good.

it was much obliged.

at the bridge theater, san francisco for $9.75

okay, i'll say this first: it's crude and funny and a very interesting idea. and i dig documentaries, even though you'll be hard pressed to classify this as such. i laughed hard and often.

but it's also quite possibly the worst shot film ever. and that's not me being a film snob. i just don't care to watch extremely close-up footage of penn gillette where i can see his open pores. these are not models. these are comedians - and poorly-lit ones at that.

and it's also quite possibly the worst edited film ever. and again, that's not me being a film snob either. this is why: you don't cut in the middle of a thought. your mind has trouble processing it. your eye only blinks at the end a thought or sentence (it's true, but now that i mentioned it, you'll test yourself). so, as you live your life, if you consider your eyes to be a camera, your mind is processing and editing the film of your life, cutting only at blinks. got it? so, if your eye only blinks at the end of a thought, then your mind only accepts a cut in a film when it also happens at that cadence. that's natural, and it's one of the most important and crucial rules of basic editing. watch any other film. it's how editing works.

and this movie, because it cuts every three seconds or so for no real reason, becomes even more horrifying to watch because your mind is not ready to process it and it gives you a headache. (for more information on what the hell i'm ranting about, or actually a clearer explanation, click here or just trust me on this one).

but other than the vile images and raging headache, it was funny.

and i took the bus home, satisfied.

not a bad night with myself.


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