MUSIC . TV . MOVIES . COMEDY . OBSERVATIONS

It seems to me that there are two types of monster movies.

1. A group of people stumble across a menacing monster and try to destroy it and survive.
2. Somebody creates or captures a monster and tries to minimize its menace while it’s studied

Movies in the first class are more like disaster movies.  Maybe this could happen to anyone.  Who know, maybe all the birds could band together and peck humankind to death for no explainable reason.  The characters in these movies are usually mostly innocent.  But in the second class, the characters are looking for trouble.  These folks are playing with fire.  In a search for knowledge, they feed a power that’s untamable, and then have to reckon with the damage.  The characters in these movies carry guilt.  They’ve somehow empowered this monster, and they have to be the ones to take it down.  

So, given this dichotomy, which type of monster movie is “The Thing”. 

It depends on which version.  In John Carpenter’s 1982 remake, it’s the first type of movie.  That crew is in Antarctica for separate reasons, and the thing finds them, and they have to deal with it.  In the 2011 prequel/remake, it’s the second type of movie.  That crew is there to specifically investigate the alien spacecraft and the thing.  They make decisions in order to preserve evidence and record their findings, instead of insuring the destruction of the creature.

I mention this because most of the review of the 2011 prequel are that it pails in comparison to John Carpenter’s version and that it’s a cheap CGI remake to get a quick buck.  These films are actually entirely different types of monster movies, thus both worthy of existence.  While both films thrive on paranoia, the characters have differing conflicting motives.  Both films end up playing out similarly, which is probably why people are quick to call the new film a cheap remake, but the films take different paths to the same destination.

This is another piece I wrote for InBlogNeato.  I’m posting it here, but you should really just follow InBlogNeato AND Lateral Reviews.  Yeah?  Yeah.  Here it is:

I don’t feel like I could write a Beatles Top 5 list without a disclaimer, and today I have two.  The first is that I had my tonsils out this morning and I have a lot of painkillers circulating in my veins.  Second, I could never ever pick five Beatles songs that I like better than the rest.  I actually find it easier to pick my favorite member than my favorite album or song, and I pick Paul McCartney.  That doesn’t mean I don’t love the rest, but he’s my favorite.  So these are my Top 5 Paul-Penned Beatles Songs That I’m Writing About.

I’ll Follow the Sun 

I can’t help but smile listening to this song, but I feel so bad doing it. It’s possibly the most casual break-up song ever written, and Paul does it in less than two minutes.  I’m not even completely convinced that things are bad in this relationship—in fact it’s a preemptive strike.  “Tomorrow may rain, so I’ll follow the sun.”  Really Paul?  But I love it so.  It has the same warmth as its simple fluffy love-y early Beatles contemporaries, but with a dark spin that could easily be missed.   And, speaking of spin, following the sun would literally send him in circles around the globe.  That’s stretchy, but it’s redemptive that Paul (or the “narrator”) sort of admits that he’s chasing something that he’ll never catch.

Paperback Writer  

I’m no historian, but this is the first number one hit for the Beatles that wasn’t about girls (Their 14th number one hit overall in the US or UK).  It came before Revolver, the album where Paul McCartney grew up as a song-writer.  As a rock song, “Paperback Writer” is pretty weird and pretty fantastic.  It’s about a book!  How many rock songs did the Stones write about books? (I don’t listen to the Rolling Stones.  I sure hope they don’t have any jams about books as that would destroy my argument.) The layered vocals at the beginning are so lush, and when the guitar riff kicks in it just explodes.  I love the bass line during the verses as well, and with only guitar chords throughout the song the bass gets the spotlight.  (Also, be on the lookout for John and George singing “Frѐre Jacque” in the backing vocals!)

For No One 

If the pronouns were switched, this song could easily be a straight-up apology for “I’ll Follow the Sun.”  I just said this is the song where Paul McCartney grew up as a song-writer, and although I don’t know him personally, possibly as a human too.  This song has so much respect for how difficult break-ups are.  You cry and cry and cry, even if you don’t love the person you’re letting go.  Writing this song in the third person is wonderful because I can empathize with both characters so strongly.  There’s no villain, just an ending.  In this case a very abrupt ending.  The song’s chords and structures are circular, yet the scenario is finite.  She’s leaving.  At the end the French horn makes it sound like a new verse will begin, but instead the song just ends.  Paul, ahem, stops following the sun.  (Unrelated… congratulations to Paul on his recent engagement).  

Penny Lane 

I work at Starbucks and lately we’ve been playing the Beatles’ catalogue to commemorate the reissue of Beatles 1.  Yesterday a woman was telling me that she learned English by listening to the Beatles.  She was from Switzerland, and when she was nine years old she started learning English so that she could understand the lyrics of Revolver.  She used the lyrics to study for her English exams.  When she met her English-native husband, their first connection was a mutual love of the Beatles.  I was so moved by what she was saying, amazed by how poignantly special the Beatles are to her story, and so much different than my Beatles story.  I realized our conversation was happening on Penny Lane.  “Penny Lane” is about everyone’s story.  The pride of personhood, the nostalgia of place, the comfort of shared experiences.  This song is about why everybody loves the Beatles still, more than forty years after they split.  

You Never Give Me Your Money/Carry That Weight 

I’ve heard people compare Radiohead’s “Paranoid Android” to the John Lennon’s “Happiness is a Warm Gun,” because both are the composite of three small songs.  “You Never Give Me Your Money,” another three-song composite, never gets mentioned.  So I’m going to mention it!  Paul always gets credit for having the Pop sensibilities, but he’s typically overshadowed for the epics.  The medley meanders thematically in the five songs that separate these songs, but ultimately it’s about the balance between following dreams and being responsible.  It comes at a point of transition for the Beatles and they all shine on the medley, but I feel like it’s mostly Paul’s moment.  When he sings, it almost sounds like he knows his fate.  In the Beatles, Paul and the others shared the weight.  On his first solo album McCartney in 1970 he played every single instrument.  Boy, you’ve got to carry that weight! (If only he’d get his money now too.)

(Honorable Mentions include every other Beatles song ever.  Also I intend on showing my respect to the other members in a future list.)

I don’t think I’m the only person that loves The Lion King.  It was pretty popular when it came out, and it also became a musical on Broadway.  So it’s pretty safe to say that I’m not the first to try to evaluate what makes it so wonderful.  Actually, it’s pretty easy.  It’s the amazing Hans Zimmer score, the Elton John/Tim Rice songs, the beautiful scenery animation, the nuanced character animation, and the awesome writing.  There’s a lot of entertainment going on.  It’s funny, political, emotional, epic.  As a movie, I can say with little controversy that it’s very very good.

But The Lion King is so much more than a movie.  I was five years old when it came out.  Not only do I remember seeing it, I remember talking about it with my parents and my friends.  I’ve watched it hundreds of times and at every critical point in my development.  The Lion King was a key ingredient in the cookie batter that went into the oven of my adulthood.  THAT is the reason I was willing to pay ten dollars to see it again in theaters this past weekend.

Was it worth it?  Definitely.  It was fun hearing a theater full of people about my age laughing at the jokes like they hadn’t seen the movie before.  The guy sitting next to me—I swear to god—sang along to “I Just Can’t Wait To Be King.”  Surround sound sniffles when Mufasa died.  (The part that gets me is when Simba crawls under Mufasa’s lifeless arms.)  I think about movies differently than I did when I was younger.  As a kid I liked best the parts where characters broke the fourth wall.  Specifically, when Pumbaa is about to sing the word “farted” and Timon shushes him because it’s not inappropriate for the young audience.  Watching it now, I just like the way Simba’s butt bounces along with the song.  

I would have had trouble describing the plot of this movie as a child.  A royal family of lions is torn apart by the jealous brother of the king, who murders the king and frames the prince.  The prince then grows up in exile and must rediscover his identity so that he can save his kingdom from his oppressive reigning uncle.  That was a pretty sloppy synopsis even now, and I used all of the big words that I know.  The storytelling is so graceful and organic that thinking about it in terms of plot points makes it almost unrecognizable.  All of the action that plays out in this movie comes from the hearts of the characters, and even when it’s obvious, it’s natural (“my teeth and ambitions are bared…”).  And even though the lions talk and sing and make fun of monkeys, they’re still lions the whole time.  Simba’s roar is a human voice, but Mufasa’s roar is a lion, yet instead we hear a young lion and an adult lion when Simba is cornered in the Elephant Graveyard.  When Simba and Nala discover that they’re in love, they nuzzle instead of kiss.  (This point may sound ridiculous until you see the movie “Rio” where birds ACTUALLY kiss each other on the lips…beaks…ugh.)

This movie’s not perfect.  Here are its only flaws:

1.  It’s pretty scary, and it’s pretty sad.  I’m glad that I saw it when I did, but this movie was my first exposition of death.  I think the movie handles the subject matter elegantly, but finding out about death from a movie might not have been ideal.

2.  The tower of hippos, elephants, and giraffes in the climax of “I Just Can’t Wait To Be King” is totally unrealistic.

3.  There are some strange political undertones.  It wouldn’t be hard to argue that the film criticizes socialism and favors capitalism.  Or maybe the film over-values government’s role in society’s success.  (King Simba made Pride Rock beautiful again very very quickly…)

But that list is so stupid.  I’m glad I was exposed to death so young in such a consequence-free way.  I felt more comfortable asking questions and talking about death with my parents.  And the African animal tower?  Totally awesome.  Who cares if it would never work.  As for the politics… it’s just really cool that the hero politicians’ #1 agenda is taking care of Earth so that it’s sustainable for future generations.  After all, it’s called the Circle of Life, not the Line Segment of Life.

I think my conclusion is that I really really love this movie, and a lot of other people do too.  Maybe it’s not my best idea to do a write-up like this about something that I hold so dear and close to my heart, but I can’t resist.

Another piece for InBlogNeato.  Just thought I’d post it over here too.  

James Blake: A Case of You

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James Blake is an odd cat, first making a splash with three consecutive sound-collage/dub-step EPs that completely lacked lead vocals and pop structure. So hearing Joni Mitchell’s “A Case of You” stripped down with only piano and vocals is totally unexpected and fresh. Who knew he had such a voice!?  James Blake is like, if Charles Dickens got famous writing Haiku before he wrote novels.  And, as an avid lover of both Haiku and the novel, I don’t mind at all.

Harry Nilsson: Mother Nature’s Son

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This cover earned Harry Nilsson a friendship with The Beatles, and it’s easy to see why.  His voice is so weightless and perfect. He changes very little from the original, but carries it so wonderfully that it doesn’t sound like a copy-cat. In fact, he’s a contender. There are many many Nilsson songs I could have picked. Actually, many of his most famous recordings were cover songs: “Everybody’s Talkin’,” “Without You,” and all of the songs on “Nilsson Sings Newman.” Really I could have picked any of them for this spot on the list, but I landed on “Mother Nature’s Son” because it’s the one where he sounds directly and distinctly better than Paul McCartney.  

Sleeping at Last/Judy Garland: Merry Little Christmas

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Sleeping at Last was destined to sing Christmas songs. Ryan O’Neal’s voice is pure nostalgia. Thankfully, they put out a gem every December, and Merry Little Christmas is the best one they’ve released. There are two alternate lyrics people choose from when they cover this song, the happy version and the sad version. The sad version has lines like “Until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow, so have yourself a Merry little Christmas now.” Judy Garland owns this version: somehow she convinces me that I can be nostalgic about the future. I’m that sure things will get better. But Sleeping at Last sings the happy version, yet it makes me just as sad because I’ll never have the same experience of Christmas as I did as a child.

Tallest Man On Earth: Graceland

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Graceland has always sort of been my favorite Paul Simon song.  And why not?  It’s got that driving drum machine, classic Simon rhythmic vocal delivery, a super sticky hook, and Chevy Chase in the video. But Kristian Matsson unhinges the song and strips it down, bringing the lyrics front and center. His performance is so affecting and raw that it better matches the emotive, gut-wrenching lyrics.  He doesn’t even sing my now-favorite line in the cover: “And I may be obliged to defend every love, every ending / Or maybe there’s no obligations now.” But I don’t think I would have ever heard the song correctly to pick out that gem. Tallest Man On Earth bring Paul Simon’s poetry to the spotlight, and it’s heart-rending and emotional.

James Taylor: You’ve Got a Friend

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This song is special because it’s from my childhood. Anything I might think I have to say about it would only ruin it.

Borrowing from Dan Barton and Devin Knittle’s tumblr “InBlogNeato,” I’m assembling my personal top 5 debut albums, in order of release date.  These aren’t the albums that I think are the objective “greatest,” but merely the albums that made a significant emotional splash when I first heard them.  Actually I feel funny calling it a Top 5 because I don’t want to quantify at all.  Let’s just say that these are five debut albums that I really really like.

Randy Newman

I wasn’t around when this dropped in 1968, but somehow, 43 years later, I got my hands on it.  As a whole it’s super weird.  Given what he’s done since, I’d believe it if someone told me that Randy Newman invented the half-step.  That’s just how wonderful his compositional command is.  But here, the orchestrations feel disconnected, and the songwriting toggles between sentimental and goofy.  The somber and beautiful “I Think It’s Going To Rain Today” comes right before “Davy the Fat Boy.”  I love this record for its shortcomings: Randy has a tortured soul and he doesn’t really know how to express himself. 

Nickel Creek

Two words come to mind when I try to describe Nickel Creek’s sound on their debut: polished and raw.  It’s confusing because those words are opposites.  I think it’s obvious why it sounds polished—the instrumentation is clean, they sing in tune, the sounds are lush and warm.  I say raw because it seems so effortless.  Chris Thile is probably the best mandolin player ever, and he elevates his bandmates to his level.  To me this album is like nature.  It’s bleeding with beauty, but has come to be organically.

(Technically, this isn’t their first release, but it’s their first on a label and the first to get distribution.  Also, what wonderful album art!)

Modern Skirts - Catalogue of Generous Men

I don’t consider myself to be particularly spiritual, but if I’ve ever had a gift from the universe this is it.  This album came to me when I was a Junior in High School, and I don’t even remember specifically how.  But by the time the first three notes of “NY Song” traveled from my computer speakers to my ears (in an A and B affair) it was love.  It struck every chord of my teenage sentimentality, and listening to it now sparks the same nostalgia in its pop sheen.

Miniature Tigers - Tell It to the Volcano

Miniature Tigers have a funny way of alternating between old-fashioned and abstract.  They have a serious commitment to melody and structure, but a liberal approach to instrumentation and arrangement, and they have emotional authenticity but they use bizarre metaphors to punch the gut.  If the imaginary friendship between Mozart and Pee Wee Herman were music, I think it would sound sort of like this.  Actually, I’ll bet that Mozart would have LOVED Pee Wee Herman and maybe that’s why this album works so well.  

The Antlers - Hospice

If Modern Skirts was delivered from heaven, The Antlers came to me from hell.  This is an album I listened to over and over and it shattered me every single time.  ”Hospice” understands empathy, and lassos its listeners into the darkness.  I was relieved that The Antlers failed to deliver live; they sounded fine, but they merely performed the songs.  I was afraid they would be the vessels that they were on the album, and I would be in the immediate presence of pure pain, sadness, and humiliation.

(Technically, this wasn’t the first album under the name “The Antlers,” but this is the first release as a band instead of the solo work of Peter Silberman, so I’m counting it as a debut anyways)