Springs Into Action

Oh goodness how is everyone today. Delicious!? Me too! I love you all. You might be wondering why I'm so pert and refreshed this enchanting evening. Well, I'm just going to tell you right now so pay attention. David and I just got back from a wonderful weekend vacation in Palm Springs! "Wait, why Palm Springs, Brett?" is what some people might be continuing to wonder. For those curious people, I'll just say mind your own fucking business. I have actually never been to Palm Springs so I thought this would be as good a time as any. I always thought Palm Springs was that weird, arid, muggy desert enclave where glistening nubile homos go to sweat themselves stupid by hotel pools and leathery seniors go to retire and gnaw on soft foods all day. While that prove to also be true, it also happens to be a fun little place!

Once I realized it was a three day weekend I just texted the D-man and planned a spontaneous little getaway. We booked a room at the Parker with his bosses advantage points and everything was set! I figured some place like the Parker would be good, being that my body image issues were hovering around "manageable" so I thought I'd take myself down a peg. Plus I don't stay anywhere unless a NBC subsidiary network with a gay demographic has based a reality show on it. Anyway, on Sunday morning, once we rolled out of bed, scratched our balls, washed our hands and brushed a tooth or three we were ready to get out there. The first thing we did was stop in Cypress Park to get Burger King for breakfast which boded pretty damn well for the rest of the trip if you ask me. I think the entire car ride was only like an hour and forty five minutes which isn't bad considering the distance but is still a long time to pretend like you don't have diarrhea from eating a double whopper with cheese at 10am. We got to the hotel, some flippant queer in salmon slacks parked the car while we checked in and then it was off to Indians Canyons! Every once in a while I like to act like I enjoy exercising and do something vaguely healthy like hiking. This place was absolutely incredible. It was this little desert-y oasis of palm trees and mountainous rocks and shrubs and ponds and fountains and...yeah! At first I thought it was just the leftover backlot from Raiders of the Lost Ark, but once I realized it was comprised of thing that like, you know, occurred naturally I was even MORE impressed (I'm from LA so I didn't get that at first). A long sweaty day or gorgeous hiking and mountain climbing subsequently ensued. I of course cut my hand on some shrub because god forbid I go outside and not injure myself like some kind of invalid. So that proved to be a rousing romp of a good time, and when we were finished it was time to go back to the hotel and check ourselves on in. Now being that we were at the Parker I of course had to reference 'The Comeback' every 9 seconds and quote Valerie Cherysh like it was going out of style. Our room was RIGHT by the pool where Valerie was harshly rebuffed by that chick who played Jan Brady so I was very excited about that. And might I just add that this particular pool was the "Family Friendly Pool" which I thought was terribly ironic. At first I felt a little out of place because I wasn't an entrepreneur who just launched a brand new mobile gaming start-up while on my vacation with my Finnish wife but a few hours later it was like we owned the joint!

After stopping by the room and washing off the 19 layers of Sunscreen I had on we stopped off at one of the little food/drink stands they had there and got some cocktails. One thing I will say about the hotel is that as famous as it is, the decorating concept is pretty underwhelming. Our room consisted of a framed picture of Phyllis Diller and some groovy tapestry that I'm shocked didn't have David Cassidy's portrait embroidered into it. Also, there was this totally bizarre photo of a young Dustin Hoffman peering over the roof of a limo just above the toilet (????) so he was just there watching you as you poop! I should have turned the photo around and said something cute like "Hey, I'm pissin' here!!!!" (Get it? Like from Midnight Cowboy? No?). Sorry, I digress...I don't know if any of you know me intimately enough to realize this, but I fucking love drinking so I was very keen to sit my ass down and throw back a stiff one (stiff DRINK). We chatted it up with the bartender. Sweet ol' gal, that one. I didn't bother to learn her name because she works in food service but we yakked about the weather and Coachella for an hour while David and I got sensibly hammered and stuffed our face with $25 felafel. Of course immediately after this we went to dinner. David knew a dude who owned this really subtle, understated Chinese place called Wang's (WANG'S). This place was so classically Palm Springs I couldn't handle it. First of all we were the youngest people there by about 82 years (well, we were until two queers in checkered shorts and Mossimo graphic tees walked in 10 minutes later). The meal was stupendous and by the time we left I about Hulked out of my pants because I was about 37lbs heavier than when I walked in. We then went downtown and took a little stroll downtown, had a milkshake, saw Kathy Griffin's star on the Palm Springs walk of fame and called it a night. Oh, wait, back up, we also managed to squeeze in some professional darts competition on some niche sport network on TV before bed which blew my mind a little bit.

The next day we woke up and realized it'd been like 6 hours since we'd eaten anything so we made a b-line for the restaurant for brunch. This was quite a procedure. I guess there was a wedding party that overloaded the kitchen with their nuptialness and they weren't seating people for like another hour while the staff recovered. If any of you know David, you know that put him in a MOOD. Ugh my god you guys you should have seen him, he just climbed up on this cross and there was just NO talking to him. I'm totally kidding he was fine. By the time we went to the room, came back, relaxed and read Stephen King's 'The Stand' 4 times it was time to be seated! We had a lovely time, the waiter brought me the wrong kind of Eggs Benedict (in case this wasn't a first world enough post already) so we got a free glass of champagne out of it! There was this really hip gay French couple sitting beside us who MAYBE spoke 3 words to each other over the course of an hour. Eerie stuff.

Later that day we took the Palm Springs Tramway which, seriously you guys, was AMAZING. We drove up to the parking lot where it was like 81 degrees, got on a tram, went on a 5 minute ride and then plopped out onto a mountain with snow. SNOW! Is anyone else still reeling because I sure am?! It was the best. We hiked ourselves silly! I slipped and nearly faceplanted in the snow at LEAST 11 times, which is weird because you would think my overt athleticism would really kick in at a moment like this but alas! So we hiked and I was Instagramming pictures like there was no tomorrow and we just had a fantastic time! We BARELY made it back to the base before it was dark and then sat down to dinner! The most enjoyable part of the meal was perhaps eavesdropping on the young British couple next to us asking if there was a sheep's milk cheese plate for dessert when the waitress was most likely grappling with the difference between red and white wine. Once the meal was over, our mini-cation was unfortunately over. We plopped our buns in the car, slapped on some music and headed back home!

The point of the story is, it was a really boss trip and the dessert is good times. I'm off to find an outlet for all this vitamin D fueled energy. Or eat some Milanos and watch 30 Rock...whichever's easier.

Humor Me, Here.

Working for a team of people in the entertainment industry who are essentially "executives" yet who have total creative say over content has been an extremely frustrating experience. I'm not saying I'm the final word on comedy or even that I'm an exceptionally talented writer but for the love of god, some of the shit that flies out of my bosses' mouths about what's "funny" truly blows my mind. Because god knows Irish chicks with backgrounds in corporate law and Israelis who were statistics majors in college are notorious for their biting wit. I guess my ego is a bit bruised because I was asked to take a stab at doing comedy punch up on the TV show our company is developing. And the jokes I wrote, which I thought were rather funny, were basically shit on by my bosses. That's fine, if they don't like what I wrote then so be it...that's theoretically how I feel. But no! Of course I want to be the best! I want to be the funniest fucking fat white kid raised in the suburbs there ever was! So I guess it comes as a crippling blow when a woman who thinks the South Park Movie was the last great thing to happen to American humor talks shit on jokes you've written. And forget comedy, these peoples' delusions about what's culturally contemporary is staggering in itself. There was a moment the other day where this boss of mine was compiling a list of "current" style references for artists in the hip hop industry. I look over at her computer and this list contains such sharply contemporary figures as MC Hammer, LL Cool J and Busta Rhymes...I'm gonna let that information really absorb for a minute. And might I add that if I have to hear them use the words "bling bling" or "rapper" any more in their honky-ass accents I might just eat a bag of pencil shavings and throw myself off the WB Water Tower. It's not just their opinions themselves that bother me either, but the fervor with which they argue them that really gets my goat. I guess I should have known this would be the case when in a development meeting for the first draft of a script my boss spent a good 30 minutes going over the typos in the action paragraphs. One more point I want to bring up is that these people are effectively the creative heads of this project and yet I'm 98% sure they don't watch television. I've never made a reference to a TV show that was met by any other response than "oh, really?". Now I don't want to paint some totally exaggerated picture of myself here as some salt of the earth, raw talent, diamond in the rough type who's just tragically overlooked because I'm just some dude who wants to tell dick jokes, but I just had to comment on the kind of people who have a platform to say what's funny in this business. It perturbs me to say the least. So, in a moment where I shall allow myself to be totally petulant, FUCK my bosses and their stupid fucking senses of humor. Or lack thereof. I think I'm hilarious and that's all that matters. Go and Like my last five Facebook statuses if you agree...kidding....kind of. Have a wonderful day and go generate your own comedy!

Brief Movie Review: Skyfall [Unimaginitive Title] OR Skyfa...My hyper-abbreviated Thoughts on the New Bond Flick

Hey everyone! (I have to laugh when I address "the people" with these posts as if anyone besides my mom and I read this blog). I thought I'd do a super quick little movie review today for Skyfall!!! I saw this film a few weeks ago but hopefully everything is still fresh!

Ok, so I thought this here movie was FANTASTIC! It was one of if not THE best Bond film I've ever seen. Sam Mendez, who has got to be a fucking weirdo in real life (given the motifs in his movies), knocked another one out of the park. I think the biggest reason why I loved this so much was the emotionally relatable villain. Maybe I'm personalizing on this because I have false teeth and a long history of making sexual advances at Englishmen wearing slim-fitting suits, but I had so much empathy for Javier Bardem's character in this. And I thought every element of this story had a really solid emotional anchor to reel the audience in like a trout on a fishing line. While it may have spared a marginal level of ACTION and GOVERNMENT ESPIONAGE that people are probably used to with Bond, I thought it more than compensated for that with emotionally ripe characters (seriously, Brett...how many times are you gonna use the word 'emotional" in this ting???). Anyway, back to Bardem. That guy acted the shit out of that role. I just wanted to watch every little thing he did on that screen. If the entire movie was 143 minutes of him sitting on the toilet and picking at his feet I'd be like "pass the popcorn, he's on!!!!". I do have to notice though that there is always some kind of queer element in all of Sam Mendez' villain characters. The uptight Military Colonel in American Beauty? Even Daniel Craig's character in Road to Perdition? Come on...god forbid gay people be upstanding members of society. Sheesh that'd be silly, right? Hahahahahahahah!

And it wasn't just Javier who kicked ass but Judi Dench as M had so much more personality here than usual. Don't get me wrong, I always love my Dame Judi, but she can play an uptight British chick, we get it..but HERE she was so fragile and delicate and exposed you just wanted to pick up that pixie-sized patootie and take care of her forever. I'm still not sold on Daniel Craig, however...I almost get him but I'm not quite there. He just has this oily layer around him at all times. He's too damn smarmy to be debonair. When Sean or even Pierce walked into a room, they COMMANDED a room. Like "OMFG look at that guy...he OWNS that room". But instead it's "Wow, this scene is gorgeous! Oh look, a questionably handsome, overly worked-out blond dude is there too". But don't get me wrong he's fine. He's adequate. He's suffish. He does his job yadda yadda. Sometimes I just want MORE. But hey, that's just me.

Again, because it's my boy Sammy M, this movie looked BEAUTIFUL. When he ushered us into that casino in Macau I just wanted to take that frame, cover it honey and eat it as a snack it was so damn rich! In pretty much every new setting I would turn to David and say "I want our living room to look JUST like that...let's make that happen". And of course his response was always the same: "Get your hand off my inner-thigh, we're in public". And ugh, that scene in the hotel in Shanghai was just such a lustrous labyrinth of lavishly lush lighting (I don't know if you noticed but that was an alliteration :) I wanted to swim in it! It's been a while since I'd seen a movie that had such a delicious visual landscape. But for every flamboyantly stylized moment like the hotel scene, they had very elegantly beautiful scenes with such an effortless lightness to them (like the bits at Skyfall towards the end). Suffice it to say I was into it.

If I were to change one thing about the film, though, I would have let that final moment where Javier gets killed linger a LITTLE bit longer. That genius moment where he says "free us both with one bullet" I wanted there to be a few final moments just pregnant as all get-out with emotion (yes, I said it again) as he SLOWLY slips away. Just let the whole film synthesize into that one moment until it fades into blissful oblivion...(who's this uppity gasbag writing this thing? Oh, it's me)

So, long story short: I was totally into this film and would see it again in a heartbeat. I think everyone else should see it too! Unless you have zero taste. In which case you should go re-watch a Christopher Nolan film or something. And that's all I have to say. Ok, bye!

Movin' On Up!

Hey there internet community!!! How in GOD'S name are you? Haven't talked to you in a minute! Things have been moving a mile a minute for me these days (and not just with regards to my bowels even though that's also true). My tenure as resident "most attractive man of Little Armenia" has come to a sobering end as I have moved on to my new home in Highland Park. So I've traded my Armenian neighbors for Mexicans. Their skin color is comparable but they drive way slower and have a much less visible mafia presence (is that insanely racist? Haha probably). I have made the leap to shack up with our beloved David Osenbach. For those readers who aren't familiar with this specimen, just Wikipedia "Adonis" and imagine glasses on that thing and a much more nuanced and sophisticated palate for wine. SO far it's been a pretty fly time. The neighborhood is two tons of fun (not unlike my sagging gut which is housing a 9lb mass of local taco truck meat at any given moment). I think the notion of the "Freshman Fifteen" is really ringing true again as me and the D-man are on a stampeding campaign to sample every restaurant in a 5 mile radius of our new place. Which, while a fun and delicious experience, is becoming rather taxing on my belt. Putting that thing on every day is no longer a "cinch" (get it?).

So anyhow, much of my time is dedicated to fixing up the new house. But ok, to get totally real on you, MOST of my time is dedicated to sitting on the couch watching Roseanne saying "there's so much that needs to be done. We should make a list of things. Eh, later...oh, Darlene. They give her the best lines. Oh are you getting up? Can you refill my wine glass? Oh, really? Then let's open up a new one..." etc. We HAVE made some significant progress though. I mean, not to brag, but we now have not only a TV and a couch but ALSO a fridge (be jealous. Just do it). I'll be sure to update this blog as the rest of the place comes together.

However this weekend we are taking a little break from furnishing a home as we are heading to New York! I'm embarrassed to say that I've actually never been to New York. I'm a poor, POOR representation of my "white suburban kid" demographic, I know. But I'm super stoked. However, there is one MINOR hitch. There is this really pesky hurricane just slithering it's way up the coast towards the city RIGHT when we're slated to arrive. So, that's fab. All I keep imagining is that footage of Al Roker trying to keep his footing while a team of people try to steady him during that gnarly hurricane some years ago. Although I know, I know, that's not gonna be me. Because obviously I'd dress way better. Although to be totally honest I'm more concerned with having a rocky flight than anything else. Fear of flying is something I always forget I have until I'm physically on a plane, which is great. So, like clockwork it shakes out like this: "Alright, it's time to board. Yay! San Francisco here I come...oh, this seat is comfy. Wait, why am I sweating and panting like Tony Soprano over here? How come my asshole is clenched shut like a steel trap? Damnit that's right!!!! Flying scares the bejesus out of me!!! WHAT WAS THAT NOISE!? Oh dear lord the engine just blew I knew it!". You get the picture. So, luckily I had the foresight this time to call up my good friend, let's call her Daisy (you know who you are), to hook a punk up with an ass-load of Xanax. My goal is to coat all the anxiety of the flight in that warm, comforting cotton-ball opiate glaze that kicks in just after take-off! So, I'm all set! I may not be able to lift any of my luggage once I arrive because I'll be so doped out but que sera, right?

So, regardless of whatever torrential curve-balls mother nature can hurl at us, I'm happy as a damn clam about this trip. We have plans up the yang for this one. David's got an Excel spreadsheet going like we may never see the light of day again. We're going to see the Lion King which I'm super excited about. I haven't seen live theater in the better part of a decade (I think that last time was a stage production of the Wizard of Oz with my grandmother, I'm not even kidding). Hopefully I can put aside my feelings for Julie Taymor for a night. Although I may need to make some kind of vigilante statement like covering a 'Titus' DVD in poo and throw it on stage while on fire. We'll see, I'll play it by ear. We're also checking out this nutty looking restaurant called WD50 where they do things like fill a condom with fish-scented air and pop it at your table before your entree. Or something. I don't quite know what they do there but it sounded wild. And of course we're going to museums, and seeing ground zero etc. etc. whatever. And because we're real, we're staying in Park Slope at a Super 8. No frills, folks! Well, except the ones on that frisky lingerie that I have saved for a rainy day (which looks to be abounding back east). Regardless of how the trip goes, though, I'll be combining some of my all time favorite things: having an excuse to eat like a pig, drink like a fish that doesn't have to drive anywhere, NOT be at work, and sleep on a bed with caked on semen from hundreds of strangers (kidding..........).

So I will be sure to keep all y'all posted about the rousing adventures of this trip! Unless I'm swept into the ocean by a stiff wind, which, you know, probs won't happen! I'll write you all postcards (not really, get over it)! Be well, urrybody!

Twenty-High-Five

**Disclaimer: This should have been posted nearly a month ago when, you know, my birthday actually happened. Pardon the delay**

It's funny, I just turned yet another year older and I really don't feel any different. Actually, that's not true. I feel bloated and hungover but that's a whole different kettle of sweaty, red-faced fish. This Labor day weekend I celebrated my 25th birthday! Or, as I've been saying, I gave life a twenty(-high)-five. I must say, the stars really kind of aligned to give way to a rather perfect time. The fact that my birthday fell on a Friday before a 3-day weekend was pretty boss already. But on top of that, I hopped in my car that morning and my commute to work suddenly shot down from nearly 2 hours to 40 minutes which basically made me want to pour a glass of cold water over my face and do the Charleston across the 110 (I didn't, though because the Charleston is totally over). Then I get to work and I got a flurry of lovely little Birthday greetings. Most of which were a terse "Happy Birthday" but all that activity simulated the feeling of being popular so I was down like Chinatown. Since I had arranged a half day, I was able to tear outta there at noon and head on home! Me and David decided to spend the day by going to Huntington Gardens in Pasadena. Holy smokes, that place is CARRAZZZZYYY. That succulent garden looked like some gloriously desaturated Seussian dreamworld! Thank god I was able to keep it totally real in my t shirt with a hotel logo and my shorts and long socks and a Nikon camera, in no way resembling a pathetic tourist of course. That place just had EVERYTHING: succulents, lilly ponds, rose gardens, Japanese gardens, Chinese gardens you name it! The only hitch was that this joint closes at 5pm on weekdays. Fucking 5pm?? I'm sure the clientele skews a bit on the geriatric side of the spectrum but come ON! Some people, like, work during the day. But as abbreviated as our trip may have been, it was still pretty magical (albeit hot...it was seriously fucking hot). We also got balls of rice krispies treats with rainbow sprinkles in them which were rather heavenly.

Then by the time we got home all the pollen and vitamin D got the better of me so I collapsed into a 45 minute nap. Well, 45 minutes by way of 2 hours. When I woke up mr. Osenbach put the finishing touches on my cake! Holy Fuck that thing was a work of art. Being the 87 year old woman I am, I love Fig Newtons...SO, I was presented with a brown sugar brown butter fig newton CAKE with bourbon butter cream frosting. It was like a pile of decadence, dipped in happy, fortified with yes and baked in OMFG. So once that was boxed up, we were off to the restaurant for the more formal dinner setting with only my CLOSEST friends. That exclusive gauntlet of dignitaries and luminaries that I call my besties. We went to Maximiliano, which is a bomb-ass Italian joint in my new hood. It was a blast! Although we were sat at the "communal table" int he middle which was this L-shaped banquet table number. This proved to be a smidge awkward because I was at the center but I was situated in between the two halves of the table so I felt like I was entertaining questions at a press release. Dinner was fabulous, per usual, and then it was off to Verdugo Bar for some more unruly fun.

I was almost 40 minutes late to my own birthday party which was a total statement and not at all tacky/rude on my part. There was a good turn out though! I got to shoot the shit with all sorts of people and get drunker and drunker and drunker as the night went on. Birthday parties are always kind of weird because even though they're obviously totally fun, I get so jacked up on adrenaline at the notion that 5+ people are stoked that I was born and then I drench that sensation in alcohol so I turn into a jittery mess come midnight! And of course it's a meeting of different circles of friends so I have to make the rounds and ensure every party is enjoying themselves and not regretting they came. I've also noticed that whatever notion of time I may have completely gets thrown out the window on Birthdays. Realistically I was at the bar for a good 3 hours but if you had said "dude, you showed up for 40 minutes and then peaced it" I would have totally believed you. So I got to see lots of lovely people and have a real bitchin time. The taco truck we stopped by on the way home was I'm sure delicious but my bowels the next day were, ummm, not.

Now, if you thought the weekend excitement was over for me then you are just sorely mistaken. The rest of the weekend was dedicated to FYF! So first off I gotta say: I DO NOT LIKE MUSIC FESTIVALS. The music is fine of course but it's as if every thing I hate is thrown into one bubbling stew of Brett-Bummer. Crowds? Hate 'em. Heat? Hate it. White chicks in headbands and moccasins? Hate 'em. Etc. I mostly ended up going because everyone else seemed to be going and I just pretended it was a special birthday festival for me :) The whole thing turned out to be pretty alright though. I think my favorite part was the notion that I could hop on the train and be there in 10 minutes.The only thing that seriously chapped my ass was that the will-call line was an hour long. I could hear the faint jangly murmurs of the Pains of Being Pure at Heart echoing from the across the street as I stood in a 3 mile line overhearing rich white kids in their 20s pour over Burning Man this year. But once I was in it was pretty swell. And after last year's expired ID-no drinking fiasco, I was very glad to be able to enjoy my $8 Bud Light.

Aaaaaanyway, so my recent birthday weekend ultimately went off without a hitch! And now I embark on a new year of being alive. Let's hope this one continues to be something that doesn't suck!

The Dark Knight Rises: Rising Out Of Chaos

**SPOILER ALERT**

So, this past Monday I decided to listen to what the media and my compatriots were telling me to do and see The Dark Knight Rises. In a bit of a change of format for this here blog, I thought I would take stab at writing an actual movie review. First off let me say that overall I was very pleasantly surprised by this film. I definitely ENJOYED it. I say "surprised" because Batman Begins bored me to TEARS and I didn't even see the Dark Knight. Plus I thought Inception was steaming pile of shit. So suffice it to say my expectations were a smidge low.

My biggest complaint was simply that there was just TOO MUCH GOING ON. Christopher Nolan, we're acutely aware that you have 10,000 ideas going on in that head of yours, and we realize that you're so uber successful that Warner Brothers would probably distribute a film that was 4 hours of you taking a dump at a child's birthday party, but I think there is a certain level of tact to be considered when executing these ideas. I felt like the hero of the story, Batman, not only was a secondary character, but was totally engulfed in the "action" of the story. Because there was so much solid plot in the movie, and there were so many characters doing their own separate things, I didn't know who I was supposed to be identifying with and why I was supposed to be so invested. I think the only character I was truly empathetic with was Michael Cane's Alfred. That man played the shit out of that role! Whenever he would start to get teary I would have to clench my jaw and try not to get all misty with him! He was totally heartbreaking! But Bruce Wayne just seemed way too passive for his own good. The only substantial point of conflict was when he was trapped in that remote prison facility. And even then it was hard to hook onto what he was supposedly overcoming in that scenario. There was the old senile medic giving him advise, there was the other man taking care of him who was guiding him, but what the hell was the message or lesson he was learning there? Maybe there was something highly profound but I completely missed it. The whole thing seemed very thematically disjointed. What I gathered was mostly that he had given up on the society that turned its back on him, and then it was inevitably in jeopardy again, so he overcame that and came to its rescue. No the most nuanced emotional subtext as far as I'm concerned. I wanted to feel like there were some huge stakes that Bruce Wayne was involved and I didn't get that.

Perhaps one of the reasons why I wasn't as interested in Batman was because Catwoman kicked so much ass! I was a tough sell with Anne Hathaway: I think she's annoying and goofy and looks like a freaky porcelain doll that talks and wears ballgowns. But that girl blew me away! From that first scene where she meets Bruce and she totally flips from the young ingenue bit into Catwoman...I was glued! Maybe I kinda sorta missed the Tim Burton/Michele Pfeiffer sexy-ass costume at first, but within 5 minutes I was thinking "Michelle, who?". What really won me over about Hathaway's catwoman was that she was clever; she's a criminal and she's a thief and she's all about the bottom line, so she has this "I don't give a fuck, a girls' gotta eat" attitude that I thought was hot as hell. And PS it took me a good hour to realize that those "cat ears" she was wearing were really just her goggles that she flipped over her head...nice touch. I think also what's so compelling about Catwoman is that she is so morally ambiguous and interesting. You have to wonder: "what IS it about that Selina Kyle?". She's a mystery. But people love mysteries, right? Plus she flips and does acrobatics and looks hot so there's that.

However, as a counter to that, I wasn't really feeling Tom Hardy as Bane. He was probably my least favorite part of the movie. He just wasn't scary enough for me. Maybe it was just me, but when he was on screen I wasn't exactly terrified, it was more along the lines of "oh yeah he's back...he's probably going to beat someone up again". And when he finally executes the overthrow of Gotham's government and frees all the prisoners, I wasn't even totally sure why. He just wants the world to live in chaos? Or he wants to enforce his own brand of justice? And if so, then why is he even bothering if he's going to blow the place up anyway? I wasn't toally buying his whole shtick. Not the mention that with that vocal effect from his mask I couldn't understand WHAT he saying half the time. And in true Christopher Nolan fashion, he turns out to not even be the real villain! Why does he do this to us!!? He spends so much time setting up one thing, and then pays off something completely different that we didn't even care about! WHY!? So when that "pivotal" moment comes where we realize that Marion Cotillard is the real villain, Bane just suddenly gets very unceremoniously killed and that's it. Then she dies a few minutes later. And the problem is, it's not that this twist totally changes the circumstances of the story, it's the same thing, the same plan, just with a different person. What's the point? In The Sixth Sense, for example, that revelation TOTALLY changed what we thought we knew about the story. This did not. If anything it just deflates our interest in Bane. The ending in general is where the whole thing unraveled for me. Instead of everyone coming to an emotional crux, everything just kind of fizzled out and the plot just went exactly the way you thought it would: Catwoman obviously comes back, the bomb is discarded and the city is obviously saved, and then that's that. It was missing something.

One thing I was impressed with though was the acting: in my observation, Christopher Nolan simply does not know how to properly direct actors. Did you see Inception? Ok, well so did I and I thought Joseph Gordon-Levitt was a smarmy asshole in that movie. He also just bugs me in general: "Oooh, you wear argyle sweaters and play acoustic guitar. We get it, you're cute. Whatever". But I thought he was kind of great in this. He embodied that character remarkably well. He obviously had that snarky side to him, but we got his emotional back-story and understood where he was coming from. He was compassionate but still with an edge which I personally totally responded to. My only criticism is that he was almost too compelling to be a young Robin because he would have completely upstaged Batman in this film. So, hat's off to you, Joe!

One thing I have to bring up is the set design/cinematography. I get heat for this all the time, but I PERSONALLY don't think that Nolan's films are that visually interesting. Maybe (ok, most likely) I just don't respond to his specific aesthetic, but I, yet again, wasn't terribly impressed with the look of this film. I mean, he clearly has a thing: dudes in suits, chicks in gowns, hotel lobbies, palatial mansions, urban city streets, etc. But I'm getting a weeeee bit tired of the same dark, muted colors and generic costumes and same 3 sets in every movie. Not to mention all the shadows and side lighting that feel totally stale. Although given the "dark, gritty, real" take on the Batman franchise I suppose it was fitting. And the scene at the football field was undoubtedly badass. I just want something wacky to happen like a purple Nurf ball to come in and bit Bane in the face or something. That's most definitely just me, though.

Oh and also Gary Oldman was good obviously.

So, that being said, I still definitely enjoyed this film. It kept me totally engaged in the plot the whole time. Perhaps that's because the entire film was basically driven by the plot. So, in that regard, it was highly successful. But nothing really lingered for me. It didn't inspire much thought otherwise. But, as Joe Gilis would have said, I guess I'm just "one of the message kids. Just a story won't do". Maybe I WOULD have turned down Gone With The Wind. But as chaotic as it may have been, I'm glad I spent a ridiculous amount of money at the Arclight to see it.

Pick of the Litter

Well hello all! As the fives of tens of you who follow this little blog may have noticed, I haven't really posted anything in a while. My life is just so hectic, so when I finally sat down to read all your letters: "Please come back!" "We miss your witty and sharply intelligent writing" "Happy half-birthday from Cafe 50s" etc. I thought I should post a little update (I'm obviously kidding...I would never sign up for Cafe 50s mailing list).

So, I have a new "gig" that I just started over the weekend: I am going to be volunteering at an animal shelter on Saturdays! That's right folks, simply gracing the world with my sort of "larger than life" personality wasn't enough to fulfill my sense of humanitarian charity, I had to do MORE (ok, ew, this is grossing even me out). Sometimes I feel like I catch myself getting so wrapped up in "early 20s drama", that cyclical, self-serving vortex that never seems to let go, that I thought I would make a concerted effort to snap some things into focus. And actually, my first inclination was to volunteer at a convalescent home. My friend goes in to read to the elderly a few times a month so I thought "awwwww, how lovely", but holy FUCK the staff at those places are checked out. After a series of phone calls, I eventually gave up: "NO! I don't want to intern as a nurse! No, no you're not listening. I'm not trying to earn college credits! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I JUST WANT TO READ A DAMN BOOK TO AN OLD DUDE AND GO HOME AND DRINK IN PEACE!". So that didn't work out. But then I thought "hey! I like animals! And I'm not home enough to justify actually getting a pet because I'm too popular so why don't I volunteer at a shelter!?" I do love animals. They're the only living things that are more insecure than I am. Because as down as I may get on myself, all I have to do is not let a dog lick my mouth and they're in like full, "Darlene 4th season Roseanne" depression. Although now that I think about it that exact scenario has probably happened to me too but whatever.

After scheduling an appointment, I went in for my orientation. Now, ok, granted, the shelter IS in Lincoln Heights, but holy smokes I was literally the ONLY white dude of the bunch. I was all prepared with my volumes of materials printed out in my kicky yellow folder and my pen and glasses all ready to go. I walk in and it's a group of sullen Latino teenagers huddled around a table (some with their parents, even). I sidled up to my seat and played it cool, obviously: "pffft whose amazing folder is this? I just found it on the ground. I'm way too punk to be prepared for this kinda thing" etc. And if I wasn't uncomfortable enough, I felt an untimely bowel movement coming on right after I sat down. Now I think the orientation was MAYBE an hour long but in my head it was 4 days of torture because I was sweating and swaying in my seat waiting to be able to tear off the bathroom. Looking back on it, I probably should have payed closer attention than I did: Orientation Leader: "Now, the animals with the yellow marks on their cages are feral and should not be approached" Me: "THIS SEEMS IRRELEVANT, CAN WE WRAP THIS UP!?!?!?" But when you gotta go, you gotta go, eh? Let me tell you, that the Q&A that followed was perhaps the longest experience of my life. Every hand that raised was like a small razor blade snaking its way through my colon. That's right, really visualize it, folks.

It was a few weeks after that when I actually went in for my first day. For some reason it seemed like a good idea to show up like an hour before they closed (makes sense for your first day, right?). Bear in mind that this place is funded by the city so the staff doesn't know WHAT'S going on and there's about half the amount of supplies than you need but whatever. I show up and the person at the front desk just directs me to the sign in sheet. "What should I do, exactly?" I ask. "I don't know, you could sweep?" he says. That was not terribly helpful, although it doesn't really matter because by that time I was more than a little beguiled by the PUPPY WALL! I know, right? I fucking wall of cages full of puppies!!!!! Throw in a drinking fountain that runs ice cream sundaes and you've found my happy place! Anyway, so eventually I found another volunteer. The orange reflective mesh vest was the giveaway (because obviously the city of Los Angeles couldn't afford matching polos or anything like that). She was MORE helpful but still pretty clueless. "I mean, they don't really care here. You can kinda just walk around and pretend like you're doing something". But I didn't want to just aimlessly do nothing and look busy! Where am I, work?? And then she asked me "so how many hours do you have? You know, like community service?" and then it all made sense! THAT'S why everyone is so checked out! When I told her this was just for fun she responded with a "Oh. That's...cool?"

The guy at the front desk did mention that I could change the litter in the cat rooms so that seemed like a good place to start. Oh my god you guys, the cat rooms were like 70% kittens and they were SO. GODDAMN. CUTE. I instantly bonded with this little Calico. Simon, I named him. I noticed myself doing this thing where I'd be gushing like a damn girl over those things and then the second someone would walk by: "Hmmmm, yes, this cage seems to be clean and secure. I can now move on". Of course the second they left it's back to "oh well look at you, little one! I just want to dress you up and take you out to dinner with me! Yes I do!". There was also that crushing moment where I'd be playing with one of the kittens and then I'd come back 10 minutes later to see the cage empty. "Where have they taken him!?" I would think. "What selfish pricks would pluck a poor kitten from their steel cage and throw them into the harsh underbelly of a happy, adopted home?!?!". It's funny how possessive I get over those little critters.

So, let's hope this continues to be a fun and meaningful experience for me. I mean, how could cleaning and disinfecting metal cages tainted by animal fluids possibly get old, right?