11 February 2005
PHOTO DIARY.
 Eric (a.k.a Renfield) sent me this shirt from Tokyo a while ago. I wear it every night. It helps.
PHOTO DIARY.
 Aerial shots: A vast, snow-covered grid.
 Real crop circles.
PHOTO DIARY.
 "Work Faster! Relax Faster!"
PHOTO DIARY.
 On Monday I got on a plane at Los Angeles for a business trip...
 ...to Detroit, where Entertainment Publications is headquartered.
 Light snow dusted the ground. It was about 20-30 degrees.
 We bundled up...
 ...and arrived at the office. Miles & miles of cubes.
 We visited fellow designer Colby in his little office for a creative confab.
 The last day of the trip a big group of us went out for tapas and sangria. We drank...
 ...chatted...
 ...and got a little crazy.
 And then we took some awesome fake fighting pics. I clocked Josh across the jaw.
 And then socked Colby in the gut.
 Good times.
06 February 2005
MOVIE: ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13 (2005).
A skeleton crew of misfit cops defend their isolated police station from siege attacks during a blizzard on New Year's Eve. Essentially a western set in modern-day Detroit, Assault jolts us in its first few minutes with a splattering headshot and never looks back. Cranking the action level up to eleven and leaving it there is exhausting, however, and as the movie pops off its ensemble cast as easily as a boy ripping the heads off of dolls, one begins to wonder why the filmmakers even bothered. Brain-dead dialogue, plot holes, and the lack of a properly hateable villain make things worse. But the movie's core flaw is its failure to modulate tension, which you'd think would be Obvious Storytelling Technique No. 1 for a siege picture. We're left with paint-by-numbers action that could've benefited greatly from proven docudrama grit. But alas. This kind of pulp just feels instantly dated.
When the cast, a cartoonish, Gilligan's Island gaggle of stereotypes (the old-skool cop, the oversexed receptionist, the sassy black woman, and so on) isn't busy urging each other to "put down the goddamn gun" over and over again, they unintentionally manage to turn a terrifying situation into a grotesquely comedic one, as when two inmates (now fighting for the Good Guys) hack away at a fallen attacker with improvised weapons as if they were Popeye and Bluto pumping a railway cart. Or when the Hotty McHotty receptionist, turned on by the gangland boss's crooning explanation of how to rip a man's trachea from his throat, seductively thumbs the hammer of her pistol.
Lawrence Fishburn? John Leguizamo? Good as usual. Ethan Hawke? Not so much, but still worth rooting for anyway. After the film let out, me and Nicki tried to think of examples of good ensemble-cast cop flicks, but came up empty handed. Perhaps we should've been thinking more along the lines of The Alamo.
Your eyes look kinda glazed. You been eating donuts?
|