One of my favorite things to do after watching a movie is to imagine the process that it had to go through in order to get made. Having caught the matinee of the newest Pixar film Up, I can imagine Pete Docter's pitch went something like this: "What if I were to give you a movie about a cranky old man who ties a few thousand balloons to the roof of his house and flies away in it (literally), seeking to recapture the spirit of adventure and fulfill the lifelong dream of his late wife - to explore a mysterious wilderness in Venezuela. Is that something you might be interested in?"
Most Hollywood types would laugh the guy out of the room. I'm sure there have been times when the Disney folks, particularly in the bean-counting heyday of the early 2000s, wanted to do the same. Luckily, they long ago learned that these guys are just crazy enough to make anything work.
And to me, that's the secret of great animation. It's a medium meant to create worlds that could not exist any other way. Pixar takes it to a different level because they venture into territory that most big-budget, star-packed live action films wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. Sure, the loony hook about an old man in a flying house is what sticks out - but at its core, Up is tale about the greatest adventure of all: love.
Another pleasant surprise, especially considering the marketing muscle that went into trumpeting this as the first Disney/Pixar 3-D movie, was the seamless nature of its presentation. None of the story-killing "HEY LOOK, MA, WE'RE IN THREE-DEE!" gimmicks the format was suffering in earlier films like Beowulf. Seeing them produce another wonderful film, it's easy to shower Pixar with praise as if it were some enchanting land of the mystics, akin to the Wonka Factory - where nobody ever goes in, but magic comes out. Personally I think it's pretty basic: focus on a great story, and great artistry will follow. You start to wonder, as the studio hurdles into its second decade, if the pressure is finally building on them, particularly with John Lasseter's attention starting to stretch between Walt Disney Feature Animation and Imagineering. It's truly the only thing that could slow them down - a self-imposed restriction to stop think creatively, the point where the pitch meetings resort to nixing ideas because they might be seen as too "out there". How long before the pressure starts to be a burden, where the underlying message of the company is, "Whatever comes next, it better not be the one which stinks. The streak must remain intact" But who are we kidding - the latest movie was a blast and it's about an old man in a flying house! With a dog that talks via electronic collar (who, by the way, is the most hysterical and endearing character in the film)!
As unbelievable a run as it's been, it has to end at somepoint, right? Eventually, there came a day when even Joe DiMaggio didn't get a hit. I'm relieved to see something like Up, which is so out there on the surface, be pulled off with such charm, intrigue, and conviction. It makes me think these guys are bullet-proof; some would argue they already got the misfire out of their system with Cars, which I would agree has some underwhelming and overdone moments but hardly sinks to the level of some of the crap produced by rival animation studios in the last 10 years. Whatever your age or current status in life, do yourself a favor and go see Up. If you really can't find yourself enraptured by the heart and warmth of a film like this, then your inner-child is locked away forever with no possibility of parole.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Where "It Was Amazing in a Kind of Crummy, Had the Feeling of Totally Being Rigged Kind of Way" Happens
Don't know if the cameras fixated on him a lot, but Brady Quinn was caught being a witness late in the fourth quarter of Cleveland's victory tonight.
Hat-tip to the Cavs, who avoided laying another colossal dud on their home fans by blowing every point of a lopsided lead of 22 only to clear everybody out of the way and deploy the "we are all going to stand here like we have no clue what to do and let LeBron James literally hold the ball for 20 seconds before jacking up a 21-foot jump shot, which will go in because he's The Chosen One" offense. While this is a well-known staple of the Mike Brey offense at Notre Dame (minus the whole going in part), there's something about the last five minutes of a critical elimination game being willingly turned into a 1-on-5 game of H-O-R-S-E that doesn't have me firing up Kanye West. It just leaves me scratching my head.
They say that all sports evolve as we move up the ranks of age and status. Youth hoops lay a foundation, high school and AAU ball is where a basic separation of talents occurs; college is where the select few get to shine, and the truly elite make it to the pros. But it seems like the basketball has reached the truly archaic post-modern phase of its development: the game is done evolving (and really, how do you top the Magic/Larry/MJ years?) and the only thing that changes is our interpretation of it. There were about 5 straight possessions when the Cavalier's offensive plan, and I'm positive this was by design, was four the other four members of the team to get as far away from James as they possibly could. Either LeBron pulls up for a jumper or drives the lane, where a no-doubt foul call was waiting by whistle-happy officiating crews. (Side note: Bill Simmons has an intriguing exegesis on the state of play in the professional ranks; check it out here)
Still, it's not like LeBron didn't drop in a couple of clutch jumpers and single-handedly pull out an elimination game for his team. I just fail to see anything awe-inspiring about it. Of course the NBA can't rig it to make Cleveland systematically squander a comfortable for the third time in as many games, leaving the door wide open for Bron-Bron to heroically ride in for the save. Nobody's that clairvoyant. But performances like James, as good as they may be, are a side product of the culture the NBA has embraced: 11 guys out there playing one-on-one...fourteen if you include the refs, who seem hell-bent on figuring out a way to influence the game rather than regulate it.
As funny as they may be, the current cycle of Kobe-LeBron puppet commercials speaks a cold-hard-fact commentary on the state of the NBA: it's simply too concerned with its own interest to actually embrace the game as it was meant to be played. We can't look at the league and picture a brilliant battle between Los Angeles and Cleveland for the championship - we have to couch it in terms of "KOBE!" vs. "LEBRON!", which isn't all that difficult when we've got both players and an army of promotional yes-men reminding us how 'awesome' they are.
Yeah, I get it. I'm just not particularly inspired by it.
Hat-tip to the Cavs, who avoided laying another colossal dud on their home fans by blowing every point of a lopsided lead of 22 only to clear everybody out of the way and deploy the "we are all going to stand here like we have no clue what to do and let LeBron James literally hold the ball for 20 seconds before jacking up a 21-foot jump shot, which will go in because he's The Chosen One" offense. While this is a well-known staple of the Mike Brey offense at Notre Dame (minus the whole going in part), there's something about the last five minutes of a critical elimination game being willingly turned into a 1-on-5 game of H-O-R-S-E that doesn't have me firing up Kanye West. It just leaves me scratching my head.
They say that all sports evolve as we move up the ranks of age and status. Youth hoops lay a foundation, high school and AAU ball is where a basic separation of talents occurs; college is where the select few get to shine, and the truly elite make it to the pros. But it seems like the basketball has reached the truly archaic post-modern phase of its development: the game is done evolving (and really, how do you top the Magic/Larry/MJ years?) and the only thing that changes is our interpretation of it. There were about 5 straight possessions when the Cavalier's offensive plan, and I'm positive this was by design, was four the other four members of the team to get as far away from James as they possibly could. Either LeBron pulls up for a jumper or drives the lane, where a no-doubt foul call was waiting by whistle-happy officiating crews. (Side note: Bill Simmons has an intriguing exegesis on the state of play in the professional ranks; check it out here)
Still, it's not like LeBron didn't drop in a couple of clutch jumpers and single-handedly pull out an elimination game for his team. I just fail to see anything awe-inspiring about it. Of course the NBA can't rig it to make Cleveland systematically squander a comfortable for the third time in as many games, leaving the door wide open for Bron-Bron to heroically ride in for the save. Nobody's that clairvoyant. But performances like James, as good as they may be, are a side product of the culture the NBA has embraced: 11 guys out there playing one-on-one...fourteen if you include the refs, who seem hell-bent on figuring out a way to influence the game rather than regulate it.
As funny as they may be, the current cycle of Kobe-LeBron puppet commercials speaks a cold-hard-fact commentary on the state of the NBA: it's simply too concerned with its own interest to actually embrace the game as it was meant to be played. We can't look at the league and picture a brilliant battle between Los Angeles and Cleveland for the championship - we have to couch it in terms of "KOBE!" vs. "LEBRON!", which isn't all that difficult when we've got both players and an army of promotional yes-men reminding us how 'awesome' they are.
Yeah, I get it. I'm just not particularly inspired by it.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Circus Circus
I firmly believe that in the 21st century, we have progressed to the point where we judge people not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
And you, Carlos Zambrano, simply are bats&^t insane.
And you, Carlos Zambrano, simply are bats&^t insane.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Strings Attached
If it weren't for a miracle three at the close of Game 2, this playoff series between the Magic and Cavaliers would be over. For my money, it is over now that the Magic held on in overtime for a 3-1 lead over The LeBrons.
So with the Cavs one game from extinction and Team Kobe locked in a dogfight with the Nuggets, the suits who populate David Stern's top secret lair must be sweating bullets. An Orlando-Denver finals? After all this energy and hype expended on trying to manufacture Kobe v. LeBron into the next Magic-Larry? I sincerely hope the puppet masters over at Nike were smart enough to cut a version where Kobe and LeBron are sitting around with nothing to do:
So with the Cavs one game from extinction and Team Kobe locked in a dogfight with the Nuggets, the suits who populate David Stern's top secret lair must be sweating bullets. An Orlando-Denver finals? After all this energy and hype expended on trying to manufacture Kobe v. LeBron into the next Magic-Larry? I sincerely hope the puppet masters over at Nike were smart enough to cut a version where Kobe and LeBron are sitting around with nothing to do:
Monday, May 25, 2009
Live and Let Bye...No Chance
The White Sox had a pretty adventurous week. It started with two consecutive wins over the rival Minnesota Twins, and the news before Thursday afternoon's game that a deal was in place for them to acquire Jake Peavy from San Diego. Oops. Then they went on and gave new definition to the old cliche about being "taken out behind the woodshed" with a 20-1 loss in the finale against the Twins. It was more lopsided than the score would have you believe.
So naturally on the heels of a 20-1 loss, the Sox proceeded to throw back-to-back shutouts and were on the verge of the sweep when normally automatic closer Bobby Jenks blew his first save for a 4-3 loss to the Pittsburgh Pirates (this year being an unusual scheduling quirk in which the Sox and Cubs did not play, as traditional, on the first weekend on interleague play; in fact, for the first time ever the Crosstown Classic will be a mid-week affair at Wrigley come June).
Most would expect another flat, predictably stupid West Coast trip to follow such a deflating loss. I don't know what it is, but the Sox and horrendous play in the Pacific time zone (save three glorious nights in October 2005) have been like the Masters and CBS - partners for a tradition unlike any other. Current score? White Sox 16, Angels 3. You just never know.
Speaking of 2005, and as a recent refuge of the Southland I have personal experience with this, but I think we need to have a nationwide fan intervention on the followers of the Halos: you have to let this AJ Pierzynski thing go. I'm not saying you can't boo the guy; he's on my favorite team and I sometimes have to fight the urge to boo him. It's no accident AJ likes to dabble in pro wrestling in the offseason - he knows that every sport needs a villain, and the quickest way to be cast in that role is to act like somebody who simply should be booed on principle. But the incessant whining over Game 2 of the ALCS needs to stop. Let it go. Seriously.
By the way, the 4-2 homestand failed to make an impression of the pundits of ESPN power rankings crew: the Sox moved one spot up from 23rd in the latest edition, with the following "Did you know?" tidbit:
The White Sox got two straight shutouts after allowing 20 runs on Thursday. They're the first team in MLB history to achieve that feat.Congratulations on making baseball history, White Sox. Too bad this "feat" has to be accompanied by one of the more dubious pitching performances in league history.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Quote of the Day
Reflecting on the never-ending story that is TV political punditry, the following comes to mind:
When the politicians complain that TV turns the proceedings into a circus, it should be made clear that the circus was already there, and that TV has merely demonstrated that not all the performers are well trained. -- Edward R. MurrowIn other words, Nancy Pelosi would've been a great speaker back in the heyday of the Pony Express.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Funny Flashback
One of the perks about living in Los Angeles - such as it is - was a theoretical placement right smack in the center of the media capital of the world. It does make sense - most of the major conglomerates who produce media content these days (movies, TV, the elusive "catch-all" known as new media) are centered in LA, and every major newspaper, magazine, network, and "adult" company has at least a satellite post there. A bank robber holds up banks because that's where the money is, and the thousands of aspiring stars for tomorrow scurry about Los Angeles for the exact same reason.
Like everything else though, being in proximity to the money and power comes at a cost. In a lot of ways California hasn't changed all that much between the days of the Gold Rush and the late 2000s. Namely, that in exchange for the chance to live and work among the huddled masses with the possibility of someday maybe hitting paydirt, you implicitly agree to take what is given and expect nothing more. It's a wonderful little social contract probably drawn up in the lunch room at Paramount by Harry Cohn and David Selznick which has unofficially been grandfathered in to every studio exec ever since.
Did that stop the Writer's Guild of America? No. That's why, after years of apparently bending over for the Hollywood majors who control and produce nearly all content these days, they stood on principle last fall and went on strike, putting many people out of work (literally) and many many more people out of work theoretically (all the estimates about "lost income" centered mainly on money that could've been made off of productions that might've gotten started if everything else had gone exactly according to plan). I count myself in the latter group; there of course were no guarantees of more work had the writers not gone on strike, but put it this way: bringing all episodic TV production and nearly all local, union-sanctioned film production to a halt between November and April was not a recipe for young up-and-comers without plum hereditary connections.
Still, the strike accomplished what it set out to (mostly), and I can't say it hurt me too bad in the long run. In hindsight, I'm sure that if you put it to a vote everybody would've preferred to skip straight to the bottom line and resolve things without a labor stoppage and three and a half months of nasty name calling and bickering in that oh-so-shallow and quintessential Hollywood style. But I think out of all the madness a new nerve of creativity was struck - think about it this way: if the WGA and the studios had settled their issue like responsible adults, would we have been treated to comedy gold (and sweet, sweet irony) like this clip from the Colbert Report? I think not.
Like everything else though, being in proximity to the money and power comes at a cost. In a lot of ways California hasn't changed all that much between the days of the Gold Rush and the late 2000s. Namely, that in exchange for the chance to live and work among the huddled masses with the possibility of someday maybe hitting paydirt, you implicitly agree to take what is given and expect nothing more. It's a wonderful little social contract probably drawn up in the lunch room at Paramount by Harry Cohn and David Selznick which has unofficially been grandfathered in to every studio exec ever since.
Did that stop the Writer's Guild of America? No. That's why, after years of apparently bending over for the Hollywood majors who control and produce nearly all content these days, they stood on principle last fall and went on strike, putting many people out of work (literally) and many many more people out of work theoretically (all the estimates about "lost income" centered mainly on money that could've been made off of productions that might've gotten started if everything else had gone exactly according to plan). I count myself in the latter group; there of course were no guarantees of more work had the writers not gone on strike, but put it this way: bringing all episodic TV production and nearly all local, union-sanctioned film production to a halt between November and April was not a recipe for young up-and-comers without plum hereditary connections.
Still, the strike accomplished what it set out to (mostly), and I can't say it hurt me too bad in the long run. In hindsight, I'm sure that if you put it to a vote everybody would've preferred to skip straight to the bottom line and resolve things without a labor stoppage and three and a half months of nasty name calling and bickering in that oh-so-shallow and quintessential Hollywood style. But I think out of all the madness a new nerve of creativity was struck - think about it this way: if the WGA and the studios had settled their issue like responsible adults, would we have been treated to comedy gold (and sweet, sweet irony) like this clip from the Colbert Report? I think not.
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