Lonesome Jim

Jittery hand held camera. Understated-to-the-point-of-monotone acting. Preciously, uniquely "quirky" characters. Awkward moments of silence between characters.

There's this indie sensibility that I just described that hit movies in the '90s that still creeps into our pop culture today. It's tired and I'm sick of it!

I saw Lonesome Jim last week (it's released today) and I gave it kinda harsh review for the site for which I review the odd movie. 'Cause Casey Affleck has the charisma of a rock in it (he's playing a depressed writer and you know he's going for the 'ultra naturalistic REAL acting' style), the characters are all oddballs and offbeat, and people do things dispassionately (have sex, tell each other to go to hell) that people NEVER do dispassionately in real life. All in the name of verity, I imagine.

Plus it takes place in a "small town" in Indiana, but with large, nice houses in suburbs that seem relatively affluent. And yet, people are rubes, small minded, naive, etc. I hate portrayals of people in small midwestern towns as total nincompoops. Having lived in midwestern smallish towns, I can tell you that yes, sushi is considered poisonous and you probably won't find a lot of gay bars, but for heaven's sake, people aren't Amish-BACKWARDS. They have DSL and running water, okay?

Steve Buscemi directed it and for someone who acts shamelessly with such spitfire and vim and vinegar, I would have expected something that had a little more gusto. The script actually wasn't that bad, but the deliberately atonal silences and oddly timed humor was trying to hard.

Okay, my rant is over. I can rest now.

!!

L.A Downtown coming alive?

http://www.downtownla.com/EventDetail.asp?EventID=264

I missed this due to my trip in Dallas, but apparently downtown is experiencing a "renaissance."

It's been experiencing this "renaissance" for about 20 years now.

Yeah, hasn't quite made it yet.

I love downtown for many reasons--the Staples center, the Pantry restaurant, the library, the subway, the cool lofts. But there isn't a grocery store, you know what I mean? You're kind of isolated when it comes to living.

Plus it's pretty compact and you can find yourself right around the corner from a pretty sketchy area at the drop of a hat.

Once I was doing a show at the L.A. Theater Center (Complex?) on Spring Street. It's a wonderful complex and parking was right next door, but that 100 ft from parking to the complex was scary. People followed me, a homeless guy harassed me for change, and one time as I rushed to the front door, I found it was locked. It was like trying to be the final person on the last 'coptor ride out of Saigon--OPEN UP!! Scary.

Maybe in twenty more years. I hope. There's nothing like a "real" city, with high rises and one way streets.

Dallas

I went to visit one of my best friends (buddies since Junior high, when our lockers were just a few spaces apart!) in Dallas this weekend. I admire him so much as he is getting a "real" job - he's studying to get his PHd in Clinical Psychology. Reading some of his course-related text is mind boggling. So far he has diagnosed me as "neurotic," but assured me that this classification is underneath the "normal" heading. Thank god!

Not much to do in Dallas but eat, eat, eat. And at least the eatin' is good. I was sick for the trip--got a sore throat the morning I flew out--but all the spicy food and tequila ensured that I could at least function.

We also went to the Grassy Knoll, the area on the outskirts of downtown where JFK got shot.



That's me considering the many conspiracy theories behind who REALLY shot JFK, with said Knoll in the background.

It's something that always fascinates me, seeing something famous (or infamous, in this case), whether a document, person, or site, in person for the first time. Its character changes. It also becomes human and everyday--just a grassy knoll. Smaller than you remember seeing in the Zapruder screen shots. But fascinating nonetheless.

I left Dallas on Sunday and am already forlorn that I will not be eating real Tex Mex anytime soon. Or BBQ brisket. But at least LA is the Sushi Capital of America--that I CANNOT do without!

West Wing-ery

Why did this weekend's West Wing fail to address Josh and Donna's momentous kiss last weekend???

Even the sound guy on a shoot shortly thereafter was giddy about it. ((After I brought it up first.) Everyone wants them to shag and have babies. But he missed getting her hotel key and fate intervened!!! For now!!!

Then last week's episode was about Santos' suitcase, filled with incriminating info, kidnapped by the Vinick campaign. Yawn. (Actually it was kind of interesting but since Vinick and Santos didn't kiss, who cares?)

On a serious note the show is definitely winding down with its dignity intact, which is nice. Watching seasons 1 and 2 for the first time last year, I was struck with how sad it was that the show lost its magic touch. At least it's not going down in flames.

Small World

It's really scary what a tiny, tiny town Hell-Ay actually is. I helped a good buddy get a job transcribing at the production company I work for, and the show she was logging (a typical 1/2 hour how-to reality show we specialize in), she recognized one of the homeowners as a former coworker.

It doesn't shock me. When I first moved here and got my first agent, I went out with a pal to celebrate. We went to this great little bar called Max's, on Fairfax (dearly departed now), and as me and my bud started chatting, a guy approached and asked if he could take an empty chair next to us.

I look up, and it's this guy I did theatre with in Chicago--mere months ago!

Of course, I had a sickening crush on him, and though it had mostly weathered away by then, it was even more delightful of a coincidence. He had moved out, as I did, to pursue acting, and I'm happy to say that he has quite a resume now. He's a semi-regular on a sitcom, pops up in commercials, and I saw him on an excellent episode of Without a Trace. I'm telling you...the world is just collapsing into one small neighborhood.

Then there was the surfer/actor I dated, who was from a tight theatre clique in Chicago. We knew generally of each other's theatrical resume, but on the second date, he started showing me pics of his Chicago buddies.

i realized that not only had I worked with one of his best friends on a show, but that I had met him. We both remembered the exact day - New Year's Day 1998 - it was for a rehearsal, during which I had to pretend to beat the shit out of his then girlfriend, who became his much-bemoaned ex.

Unreal.

The other weekend, a buddy who is on the editorial staff of a magazine recounted going to Teddy's, the ultra-exclusive club on Hollywood Blvd., where she saw: Paris Hilton, Mischa Barton, Lindsay Lohan, and Jamie Foxx. She said she just looked around her thinking, What the hell am I doing here? (Mind you, she's fabulous, interviews celebrities for a living, and all that, so she totally fit in, but starlets who unnecessarily make worldwide headlines all gathering in one place...it's a little ridiculous.)

What Happened to The L Word?

I started watching The L Word when friends recommended it. I loved the soapyness, the drama, the comedy, even when it edged on cheesiness. I loved the actors--all are superb, and I have a hetero crush on Kate Moennig as lady-killer Shane--and the story lines were provocative, slightly fantastical, but almost always true to LA lesbian life. (I have enough sapphic sisters in my life to know.)

Then this season...sigh. What happened?

Season 3 starts with a complete role reversal of the couple that anchors the series, Bette and Tina. Bette is alpha female, caustic, hard-charging, ocassionally insensitive, but has a big, warm heart and good intentions. Her partner Tina, pushed away by Bette's coldness and infidelity, eventually returns and they have a baby (thanks to a sperm donor and Tina's womb).

This season? Bette is going on meditation retreats and Tina is a cold, hard bitch having an affair with a man.

How many people have an extreme personality change in a year?

Shane, the loverboy of the group, is attempting (yawn) monogamy with the naggy Carmen; the Cutest Couple Ever, Alice (the comic of the group) and Dana (the dork of the group), are broken up; oh, and Dana dies.

Dana dies of cancer. From start to finish the whole shebang took about 3 months in "real" time, if I'm following the episodes correctly. Despite being a pro tennis player with the best medical care, they didn't know the cancer spread until after her mastectomy.

Excuse me?

The excellent recaps on afterellen.com reflect the vehement and hands-thrown-in-the-air attitude of the message boards on Televisionwithoutpity.com, and rightly so. What happened to the sudsy, decadently filmed, well acted mishmash of love, lust, and comedy? It's soooo depressing. And killing Dana? What???

In the super serious PSA after the Death to Dana episode, the VO claims this "Groundbreaking" episode of television brought to light one of the most serious cancers known to woman--the most serious, in fact. First of all, you don't need to kill a favorite character to make a point. Second of all--might it be a wee bit more inspiring to show Dana SURVIVE?

Instead, creator Ilene Chaiken smirks piously at the camera and says that these things just happen in life, that's all...and the story line kind of wrote itself...or something like that.

The chat room's response? FUIC!

Bleh.

Say AHHHHHHH!!

No one likes the dentist. Regrettably, thanks to genetics and bizarre bodily chemistry, even if I brush 8 times a day and floss nightly, if I don't get regular cleanings I'll have dentures by the time I'm 30.

And, even though I've been getting cleanings, I had two cavities. Grr! BTW, insurance doesn't cover porcelain fillings, and how did I not know this? $300, down the drain.

So I go in today, and the dental assistant first of all doesn't suck up all the saliva in my mouth so I get the uncontrollable urge to swallow, hitting the dentists' hand and sending a drill on my tongue. Great start.

Then it turns out this is a mega cavity, and she drills and drills and drills away, and keeps injecting me with anesthesia, enough to knock out a pony. This whole time I'm actually anxious, even though the act of flossing is often more painful than a typical cavity filling. Plus, I almost convinced myself that one can die from cavity anesthesia, until my more rational mind noted that if that were the case, the average human life span would be 15.5 years.

Finally the dentist finishes and says, "Well, I don't have time to do the second one. You'll have to come back."

Well, I don't have time to rearrange my entire schedule because YOU'RE too busy drilling people's tongues!

Now the anesthesia is wearing off and my tooth hurts, but it could be worse -- I could have TWO cavities healing.

Maybe I should get them all pulled out and wear dentures??

Debt Diet

Oprah has a series called "Debt Diet" where she's helping America cut up those credit cards one day at a time. She's picking some pretty wounded souls who have psychological issues that lead to their spending habits.

So, in this episode (Fridays' ep), this lady is back with her husband and they show a party she had, where she aired the FIRST Oprah episode on which she appeared. it was sort of an "outing" herself to her mother and friends that she is in terrible debt.

Part of the episode showed her in front of a 2,000 sq foot house--beautiful, classic lines, typical Suburban America I've Made It house--and says, "Here's my $300,000 house. My husband said we couldn't afford it, but I really wanted it."

I rolled my eyes and said, "Of course you can afford it." Then I turned the show off and puttered into the kitchen of my 842 sq-foot condo that cost me $240,000. On a single woman's meager salary. Shit, if I can (against all logic) barely afford this, surely a two-income household can afford THAT!! (It's called clipping coupons and picking up an extra job, honey!)

Leave it to the L.A. housing market to change your perspective on debt!

Since I Moved To L.A 8 Years Ago...

I've...

1. Been Mugged
2. Had my car broken into. 6 times.
3. Had two cell phones stolen
4. Have had 4 agents and two managers.
5. Have worked at over 15+ places of employment (thanks temp agencies)
6. Saved a kid's life (long story)
7. Been (lightly) shoved by a cop
8. Been hit by a car as a pedestrian
9. Been in two accidents
10. Lived in 6 different apartments
11. Dated a man 15 years older than me
12. Worked as a marketing associate. Then a telecom project manager. Then as a cable tv producer.


Dude. I'm tired.

Rachel McAdams: A Girl's Girl

Ask me my favorite movie of last year (go on, ask!) and I'll say Red Eye. It's the tight airplane thriller by Wes Craven starring Cillian Murphy and everyone's lady of the moment, Rachel McAdams. Most folks thought it was a nice B-movie white knuckler, simply and aptly done, but I say it's more than that.

(fF you haven't seen it, maybe you shouldn't read the rest.)

It's of course a pure and simple "female empowerment picture," so clearly laid out that it inhabits the same home with with the best of the B-movie "message" flicks and every third Lifetime Channel MOW. Rachel M's character, Lisa Reisert, is successful, pleasant, and easygoing, a people pleaser but clearly capable running her life. While Cillian M's terrorist character is trying to use her to enable an attack on the director of homeland security at the hotel Lisa manages, she must summon up the ability to fight back. The same ability to fend off 'evil' that never came to her rescue when, as she says around the third act, she was assualted in broad daylight two years prior.

Easy to connect the dots: Her anxiety and helplessness from the assault will be resolved if she can kick this guy's ass. And she does--not just him, but another attacker, and she thwarts a terrorist attack, and she tells off two obnoxious hotel patrons. And yes, it's a very clear, uncomplicated redemption for this character, but for a 80 minute thrill ride, that's all you need.

Crucial to the success of Red Eye's ability to convey this message of empowerment is McAdam's performance. Her eyes definitely tell a story, and yes that's corny, but so few actresses can do this; and in a neat, spare-no-words thriller like this one, it's vital to see every machine whirring in her brain. Her vulnerability, quiet resolve, and her ease with the sometimes obvious dialogue keeps this "b-movie" first in its class.

Cillian Murphy is excellent as well, providing the perfect foil to the archtypical type-A "too nice" character of Lisa.

It's the perfect role for McAdams, one every woman watching should treasure. She uses her wits and her muscles to fight back, all in heels. And she's one of the few actresses out there who is not only glamorous, but also seems like she wouldn't bore you to tears if you met her, or annoy you, or come off as completely flaky. She's centered and grounded, while most other actresses out there seem to look down on us. It's clear she's the actress of the moment with total staying power.

CRASH

Hello,
I am eager to start blogging here again, for the 2.5 people who actually read it. I miss online journaling and viewing others' thoughts and doings, so it begins again. It helps that my new place of work is not as prisoner-like about their IT department, like the last place. And since I don't blog much about work, I'll definitely be able to work on it during lunch breaks and the like.

So here's an auspicious '06 debut for the blog: I got hit by a car yesterday. Not while in a car--I, me, the person, got HIT by a car.

I'm from Chicago, where one can do cartwheels willy-nilly down the street without a crosswalk, and it's a-okay. I consider myself a professional street-crosser. I was leaving work yesterday and instead of taking a 10 minute round trip across a lighted intersection in a slightly shady area of North Hollywood to my car, I chose to cross directly across the street. Like EVERYONE DOES on this street.

I looked both ways, swore to God there was no one coming to my left, and literally out of nowhere, in the middle lane used for left turns, this car slams into me. First, a screech, then I look up, see the car, roll up on the hood, then back -oof!- on my ass on the concrete, like you see people do in the movies or every third episode of "Law and Order". Clearly the driver had been distracted and speeding--while other cars had been rolling to stops in anticipation of a red light further down the way.

I didn't hurt much at all, it was really just like taking a simple fall down a coupla stairs, and I was totally wide-eyed with shock. After some debate me and the driver - a chain-smoking middle aged woman with a European accent-- finally called the cops, and waited in our respective cars till they came, and I called a few friends to chat and help me stay calm. Though the woman who hit me was more irrational than me--i had to calm her down! Believe it or not... the woman had been claiming all this time that it was "my fault" becuase I crossed in the middle of the street--to which I reminded her that ped's always have the right of way. "Oh, is that what your insurance is telling you?" she snapped. Uh, first of all, yes, everyone knows that; and second of all, any concern at all for this girl you just hit??? Good lord!

When the cops came they were very polite and patient, and the woman's husband started bellowing how she was stopped at a red light (?!?) etc, and the cop asked him to stand aside. We all went to the 'scene of the crime' where I clearly pointed out that I was leaving work and thus the incident happend right in front of the building. Luckily the woman went back to the original, accurate version of the incident now that her husband was gone.

The cops filed a report, shook our hands, and took off. I went to the ER, and that's where the worst part happened.

They called me in right away. Woo! The nurse was sweet and funny, and then the doctor who came in was appropriately good looking and relaxed.

"How did it happen?" he asked. I gave him the short version. "Did you dent the car?"
I cocked his head and said, "I weigh 118, of COURSE I didn't dent the car!"
He laughed and said, "I haven't seen that kind of attitude before."
I joined in and said, "That's a pretty L.A. comment, huh?"
But seriously, after all my working out and ending my ice cream habit, me dent a car? Hurumph!

He did a little once over for broken bones, and then I told him that the only thing really hurting besides a mild ache here or there, was my bum (the bone you hurt when yhou come down hard on you butt in gym class in the third grade--you know the one). He said, "Okay, we'll just check that. Any blood in the urine? Any vomiting?" Nope, nope, nope.

"You're very lucky," he said. "Just get on your stomach and we'll check the spot that's bothering you." I complied, pleased that I'd be out soon, thanking God about a million times over that I was safe, and promising endlessly to Him/Her to go to church EVERY weekend...the doc lowered my panties just a bit to check my bum for bruising...and I hear him say to the nurse-

"Could you hand me the lube?"

My eyes widen again, like a deer, like a deer who has never been told to "bend over and cough," like a woman who has only experienced such...rear view action NEVER, not any time, who has NEVER been curious about that kind of "goin' up where stuff goes out--" I contain my apprehension and sit up.

"The next thing I have to do isn't the most pleasant," the doctor said kindly, surely smothering a giggle.

"Yeah--I got that," I said.

I did as instructed, laying on my side, and then he--well, you know what he did. Oh my god. It was worse than getting hit by the car, really. He had to check for inner fractures, so he poked around like dog sniffing a gopher hole, asking, does that hurt?

"YEEeeeEES," I kept replying.

"Okay--let's try to diffrientiate from the, ah, actual exam and--real pain."

"Yep, got it--okay, that doesn't hurt--oh. That DOES--"

I was clenched so tight around his finger, I swore I was going to break the man's knuckle. Freud would say his theories of anal retentive personalities are correct-- me, type A control freak; my ass, so tense it could spontaneously combust.

You know, I was meaning to see "Brokeback Mountain" this weeekend, but it's not going to happen. And the inner gay guy I keep declaring myself to be? He's a top.

After an xray it was determined my coxxus--the butt bone area--is merely bruised. Bruised badly, but nothing a couple of days of taking it easy and ocassional ice packs can't hurt. And thanks, God--not onloy did you spare me my life, you have ensured that no matter how many margaritas I have, no one could ever talk me into having a little action where the sun don't shine.