FOR FRIENDS FAR & WIDE.

News.

	04 August 2005 MOVIE: THE ISLAND (2005). Clones escape their sheltered world only to realize they have been grown for the purpose of replacement organ harvesting. That doesn't really count as a spoiler, because you won't see this movie anyway: yes, it's Michael Bay (The Rock, Con Air) again. This action orgy, with its uninspiring Sharper Image futurist aesthetic, borrows heavily from sci-fi classics only to trivialize them. The Logan's Run conspiracy becomes simple corporate greed; the breathtaking nature montage from the end of Soylent Green now plays as mere video decoration in a nightclub; clones emerge into the desert wasteland a la THX 1138 to be welcomed by chopper-ridin' rednecks. Even Coma's suspended bodies make an appearance, but without their original quiet creepiness. In fact, the whole film plays like Kid Rock cranked up to eleven, for once the clones leave the mildly entertaining confines of their birthing facility (which is outfitted like the hottest gym/spa in L.A.) everything literally becomes one single, unending chase scene—a profoundly annoying succession of trucks, chicks, tech, guns, flying motorcycles (sigh), and explosions. It's a Los Angelean future, in which the tokens of change are best indicated by new and exciting auto bodies. Not by, say, the ethical implications of raising genetically identical clones for the sake of immortality. That said, The Island's positively old-skool action vibe stands as a strange testament to Mr. Bay's outdated assumptions of what an audience would enjoy. Don't let the casting of ex-indie darlings Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson fool you—this is Hollywood machismo at its most traditional, complete with jokes involving women with credit cards or juvenile gay slapstick, most of which (thankfully) earned few or no laughs from our fellow theatergoers. But why? you ask. Maybe it was the film's tone, which resembled that of earnest ten-year-old boys playing at war. Or maybe the audience was distracted by all the product placement, which Mr. Bay has taken to a new level: Puma (the clone tracksuit of choice), Aquafina, MSN, Cisco Systems, Chrysler, and many others are all well represented. At one point, Ewan McGregor's womanizing, racecar driving bachelor character (again, machismo) rattles off the specs for a jacked-up Cadillac of the future. People, people. Can we at least pretend? C'mon! C'mon! C'mon! Go, go, go, go, go!   Back to main 02 August 2005 MOVIE: THEY CAME BACK (2004). The recently deceased return en masse to their families in a small French town. I'm pretty sure I liked this movie. Billed as an avant-garde zombie flick, it feels more like sci-fi at its absolute quietest and most contemplative. There are no real special effects. No one knows why the dead come walking in from the cemetary, fully intact and aware. As the government deliberates on programs to re-integrate them into society (ah, socialism!), small mysteries reveal themselves: why do they suffer from insomnia? Why are they perpetually distracted? And what goes on at their secret midnight meetings? The answers are never fully revealed, something the practical American in me felt slighted by. But the pretentious, lit-theory reading Fronchman in me appreciated what each vignette presented by the film's sizable ensemble cast attempted to explore: grief, delusional hope, anger at being emotionally tormented by Nature's whims. It makes for occasionally powerful moments, as when a mother, during the dead's strange final migration back into the netherworld, lets her Returnee child fling himself like a lemming off their tenth-story balcony. The father realizes with horror that she did nothing to prevent his fall; she admits that she hated their son back in his new odd form. Spielberg could have used such poetic tension for his failed epic A.I. In the end, the dead return to their graves as mysteriously as they emerged. Grief comes in fleeting yet powerful waves, the film seems to say, and hearts are helpless against its tide. You're home late.   Back to main DEFAMATIONS OF CHARACTER. I think this counts as a Defamation of Character—the Praying Calvin, morphed here into a more traditional figure at prayer (but still maintaining the long telltale shadow cast by the cross), and used as flanking ornamentation for what looks like a home business.   Back to main PHOTO DIARY. I took Nicki for a ride on the back of my scooter the other day. Here's what she looks like with a helmet on. Cute!   Back to main PHOTO DIARY. We went to the Mercedes Benz Men's Tennis Tournament finals over the weekend. There wasn't a bad seat in the house to see Agassi play Muller. Agassi won pretty handily. Man, can he return a serve. He gave a perplexing championship speech, in which he said he'd flip his prize wristwatch from tournament sponsor Raymond Weil on Ebay. He also joked, "Don't give me an empty envelope" when given his prize check. Weird little man! Anyway, it's been a while since his last championship, so he gets to say whatever he wants.   Back to main Archives. 17 August 2003 — 24 August 2003 — 31 August 2003 — 07 September 2003 — 14 September 2003 — 02 November 2003 — 09 November 2003 — 16 November 2003 — 23 November 2003 — 30 November 2003 — 07 December 2003 — 01 February 2004 — 08 February 2004 — 15 February 2004 — 22 February 2004 — 29 February 2004 — 07 March 2004 — 14 March 2004 — 21 March 2004 — 28 March 2004 — 04 April 2004 — 11 April 2004 — 18 April 2004 — 25 April 2004 — 02 May 2004 — 09 May 2004 — 16 May 2004 — 23 May 2004 — 30 May 2004 — 06 June 2004 — 13 June 2004 — 20 June 2004 — 27 June 2004 — 04 July 2004 — 11 July 2004 — 18 July 2004 — 25 July 2004 — 01 August 2004 — 08 August 2004 — 15 August 2004 — 22 August 2004 — 29 August 2004 — 05 September 2004 — 12 September 2004 — 19 September 2004 — 26 September 2004 — 03 October 2004 — 10 October 2004 — 17 October 2004 — 24 October 2004 — 31 October 2004 — 07 November 2004 — 14 November 2004 — 21 November 2004 — 28 November 2004 — 05 December 2004 — 12 December 2004 — 19 December 2004 — 26 December 2004 — 02 January 2005 — 09 January 2005 — 23 January 2005 — 30 January 2005 — 06 February 2005 — 13 February 2005 — 20 February 2005 — 27 February 2005 — 13 March 2005 — 20 March 2005 — 27 March 2005 — 03 April 2005 — 10 April 2005 — 17 April 2005 — 24 April 2005 — 01 May 2005 — 08 May 2005 — 22 May 2005 — 29 May 2005 — 05 June 2005 — 12 June 2005 — 19 June 2005 — 26 June 2005 — 03 July 2005 — 10 July 2005 — 17 July 2005 — 24 July 2005 — 31 July 2005 — 07 August 2005 — 14 August 2005 — 28 August 2005 — 04 September 2005 — 25 September 2005 — 02 October 2005 — 09 October 2005 — 30 October 2005 — 06 November 2005 — 13 November 2005 — 20 November 2005 — 27 November 2005 — 04 December 2005 — 18 December 2005 — 01 January 2006 — 08 January 2006 — 15 January 2006 — 22 January 2006 — 05 February 2006 — 26 February 2006 — 12 March 2006 — 19 March 2006 — 26 March 2006 — 02 April 2006 — 16 April 2006 — 23 April 2006 — 30 April 2006 — 07 May 2006 — 14 May 2006 — 21 May 2006 — 04 June 2006 — 18 June 2006 — 25 June 2006 — 16 July 2006 — 23 July 2006 — 06 August 2006 — 13 August 2006 — 03 September 2006 — 17 September 2006 — 01 October 2006 —