The bottom of my stomach nearly dropped to the floor when I was paging through a copy of today's New York Post, fished out of the top of a garbage barrel in the subway, looking for movie times when I saw that the guy who helped produce my first 2 plays at Harvard just bought the New York Observer for a cool 10 million dollars.
Yup, 25-year-old Jared Kushner, producer of the Adams Pool Theater's Drop Dead and Hooters, now OWNS the eponymous salmon-colored New York weekly. My first reaction was disbelief. My 2nd reaction? Nausea! I'm a little shell-shocked. I think I need to go outside and get some fresh air.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
Hazen and Sauna
We haven't had any A/C in the office all week because of a fire on the 5th floor the building (24 stories in all) on Monday morning. Not everyone is affected though. Some floors have air and electricity, certain sections of floors have electeicity, but no air, and many cobinations there of. The elevator's have A/C, so when you step off those in the morning onto the 11th floor, you can feel the heavy, humid heat hit you like a bag of bricks. We're keeping most of the office lights out to stay cool as possible, although the lights in the bathroom simply don't work. We were peeing in absolute darkness until someone finally put some office lamps on the sink counter.
Yesterday, someone brought in one of those large clock-like thermometers that hang on the wall. I walked by it around 4 o'clock and nearly fainted when I saw the reading- 88 degrees! No wonder I was sweating bullets while barely moving a muscle in my office chair. It's bearable in the morning, but from 2-5, the greenhouse effect kicks in and we all start roasting and basting in our own sweat. Nobody comes to work in a suit or a shirt and tie anymore- it looks like we're all going to the gym in our shorts and t-shirts.
Meanhwhile, the office comptroller sent this email out to everyone yesterday explaining why it's taking so long to fix the air conditioning. Oh, the irony!
Yesterday, someone brought in one of those large clock-like thermometers that hang on the wall. I walked by it around 4 o'clock and nearly fainted when I saw the reading- 88 degrees! No wonder I was sweating bullets while barely moving a muscle in my office chair. It's bearable in the morning, but from 2-5, the greenhouse effect kicks in and we all start roasting and basting in our own sweat. Nobody comes to work in a suit or a shirt and tie anymore- it looks like we're all going to the gym in our shorts and t-shirts.
Meanhwhile, the office comptroller sent this email out to everyone yesterday explaining why it's taking so long to fix the air conditioning. Oh, the irony!
Work to repair the damaged buss section has been ongoing since the outage occurred on Monday -
Fortunately, the damaged pieces are manufactured by Siemens Corp, a tenant in the building, who has been without power on two of their floors - They have been able to expedite the shipping of replacement parts - those parts are in the process of being installed -
The current estimate for power and air restoration is after hours Friday, so one more day -
We'll send any updates as they are received -
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Voice Over Shirts- Get 'em while they're hot
Nick and I are now in the T-shirt selling business. Check 'em out!
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Newest Ipod Accessories!
With Microsoft aiming to soon dethrone Apple and their eponymous Ipod with its own portable music player, Nick came up with an idea for last weekend's Shark Show- what are some ridiculous, inappropriate items that Apple could Ipod-ize to increase its current market share? I came up with the images and did the photoshopping while Nick presented the slide show with his commentary at the show last Saturday night. Take a look at these advertisements for products that will hopefully never see the light of day...
Monday, July 24, 2006
Moustachio allays the female throngs
Now please, ladies. You're gonna have to calm down. Please, I beg you! Try your best to collect yourselves, for everyone's sake here. We don't want to make a scene now, do we? No, we definitely don't want that, and we don't need one, either. Like I said, you're all going to get a turn, don't worry. I ain't going anywhere. No, no, I promise. Just take a number, have a seat- yes, on those leather couches behind you is perfect, and I'll get to you all as soon as humanly possible. If you brought a book or some kind of reading material, I admire your forethought. I'm only one man, remember. Albeit a sexy, moustachio-clad man, but nevertheless, there's only one of me. OK, #725 please step forward and away we go...
Goodbye My Friend, Goodbye My Lover...
Krispy Kreme, producer of the world's greatest donut when served fresh and hot off the assembly line, is shutting down all Massacusetts stores, save for one shop located on Route 1 in Dedham. All the KK locations in NYC have closed, too, except for one on the upper east side. What caused the old KK to go downhill so badly and so quickly here in New England?
Read about it in the Boston Globe.
Some interesting stats found in the article:
Read about it in the Boston Globe.
Some interesting stats found in the article:
--- Customer tastes have changed, said Honey Dew Donuts founder Dick Bowen. When he opened the first Honey Dew 33 years ago, 70 percent of sales came from doughnuts. Today coffee accounts for more than 60 percent of sales for the 150-store chain and doughnuts for 12 percent.
--- With 63 percent of its sales coming from beverages, Dunkin' Donuts has repositioned itself as a coffee company.
--- Minus land costs, it's a $2 million investment to open a Krispy Kreme locally, compared with about $500,000 to open a Dunkin' Donuts.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Sending a signal to Masspirg street reps
For anyone who lives in Boston or has spent any time in the surrounding area, you might want to invest in one of these tshirts. Much like the recent college grad who started making them, I agree with and believe in Masspirg's goals and aims, but I hate, repeat, absolutely hate being accosted (or aggressivley approached) by clipboard-holding Masspirg reps on the sidewalk while I'm walking from point A to point B. And quite frankly, at the moment I don't really have the kind of money they're looking for anyway. Wouldn't they fare better staking out Beacon Hill and Newton instead? People speed up their pace, turn their head, quickly try to throw their headphones over their ears, or even cross the street to avoid these eager, friendly-looking college-age reps. Don't let their guise fool you- they are either feared or loathed by the masses.
Friday, July 14, 2006
You can't deny the Americana deliciousness that is Mo Pitkins' deep-fried macaroni and cheese.
Also, did you know there's a restaurant in New York solely devoted to macaroni and cheese now? It's called SMAC, and it's located over on 12th street between 1st and 2nd Avenue. I had myself a small crock-pot of their 4-cheese variety covered in bread crumbs before going to see Brick (which I loved) Wednesday night.
Also, did you know there's a restaurant in New York solely devoted to macaroni and cheese now? It's called SMAC, and it's located over on 12th street between 1st and 2nd Avenue. I had myself a small crock-pot of their 4-cheese variety covered in bread crumbs before going to see Brick (which I loved) Wednesday night.
Usher on Broadway? "Yeah!"
Ouch. Stunt casting, or just plain bad casting? You decide.
Usher will soon be playing the lawyer Billy Flynn in Chicago.
Think they'll work some of his trademark back-flips into the Fosse choreography? Maybe Lil' Jon will cameo as a chorus boy.
Usher will soon be playing the lawyer Billy Flynn in Chicago.
Think they'll work some of his trademark back-flips into the Fosse choreography? Maybe Lil' Jon will cameo as a chorus boy.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Looking Into The Past
I had a lot of free time at work today (i.e., they gave me nothing to do or to work on the entire day), so I logged onto myspace (which somehow has become unblocked in the office recently, along with everything else that used to be blocked) and browsed around looking for Braintree High School grads. When you’re sitting there strapped to a desk for 8 straight hours, web activities like this are about as wild as you can get.
It’s funny looking at the profiles of people I haven’t seen or even thought of for 7 years. Some people look unrecognizable, and others look exactly the same. Some have moved far away, some have gotten married, and some even have children by now at age 25. Then there are those I don’t even remember at all. My graduating class was a shade over 300 people. Around a third of them are on myspace, and I feel like I never met or even laid eyes on a third of those.
The class of ’99 never had a 5-year reunion (our class president was living in Australia at the time, and nobody else picked up the ball to organize it, or so the story goes), so logging onto myspace and doing a class of ’99 search is almost feels like the next best thing, or at least a virtual replacement until our 10th year reunion rolls around.
While I was poring over old photos for a slideshow that was displayed at Nick’s wedding, I came across a Polaroid of me and my first-ever crush all the way back from elementary school- her name was Siobhan. I met her on the first day of 1st grade, and man, was I in love. Yes, I was only 6 at the time, but I adored her to no end. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever met. We were never good friends or anything, but we were in the same class in 3rd grade, and for one term we were assigned to sit next to each other. I was in heaven! She was just a really cool girl, and Siobhan even played for the boys’ little league baseball team instead of playing softball with the girls. I was impressed.
You can’t imagine how dismayed I was when I showed up for the first day of 6th grade and she was nowhere to be seen. She hadn’t moved away, but her parents had enrolled her in a private catholic school across town, Archbishop Williams, commonly referred to as Archie’s. I never saw her again. I was 11, madly (and secretly) in love, and absolutely devastated. That was 14 years ago, but I never forgot about her. She was my first love, after all, even if she (or anyone else, for that matter) had no idea.
So when I was browsing through BHS grads yesterday online, I thought, “Hey, I wonder if Siobhan is on here.” I clicked on Archbishop Williams, scrolled through a few pages, and there she was. I was stunned. She looked like I pictured she would, and she still lived in the south shore area. I didn’t see her listing any colleges; I was surprised because I always thought she was pretty smart. And then I saw it- she had a child. And she wasn’t married, either. Now I was even more stunned. The wind was knocked out of me like I took a blow to the stomach. I sort of sat there in my chair for a good 10 seconds, dazed.
I suppose I had idealized her in my mind all these years- perhaps I expected to see her...well, I don’t know what I expected. Enrolled in grad school somewhere on the west coast, saving poor Ugandan orphans in her spare time? I don’t know. I just didn’t expect her to be, you know...a mom.
For me right now, the idea of having kids is just so intangible and unthinkable; I have trouble wrapping my head around the idea that anyone I grew up with and went to school with is now a parent. I’m having a difficult enough time picturing some of my classmates married!
I just watched my 32-year-old brother get married last month, and that was hard to believe. Now, in the end of September I’ll watch a girl I’ve known since 6th grade get married at St. Francis church in Braintree. As for me, I’m in arrested development, just trying to figure out how to meet girls, go on a date, and enter a relationship. I have a lot of catching up to do.
It’s funny looking at the profiles of people I haven’t seen or even thought of for 7 years. Some people look unrecognizable, and others look exactly the same. Some have moved far away, some have gotten married, and some even have children by now at age 25. Then there are those I don’t even remember at all. My graduating class was a shade over 300 people. Around a third of them are on myspace, and I feel like I never met or even laid eyes on a third of those.
The class of ’99 never had a 5-year reunion (our class president was living in Australia at the time, and nobody else picked up the ball to organize it, or so the story goes), so logging onto myspace and doing a class of ’99 search is almost feels like the next best thing, or at least a virtual replacement until our 10th year reunion rolls around.
While I was poring over old photos for a slideshow that was displayed at Nick’s wedding, I came across a Polaroid of me and my first-ever crush all the way back from elementary school- her name was Siobhan. I met her on the first day of 1st grade, and man, was I in love. Yes, I was only 6 at the time, but I adored her to no end. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever met. We were never good friends or anything, but we were in the same class in 3rd grade, and for one term we were assigned to sit next to each other. I was in heaven! She was just a really cool girl, and Siobhan even played for the boys’ little league baseball team instead of playing softball with the girls. I was impressed.
You can’t imagine how dismayed I was when I showed up for the first day of 6th grade and she was nowhere to be seen. She hadn’t moved away, but her parents had enrolled her in a private catholic school across town, Archbishop Williams, commonly referred to as Archie’s. I never saw her again. I was 11, madly (and secretly) in love, and absolutely devastated. That was 14 years ago, but I never forgot about her. She was my first love, after all, even if she (or anyone else, for that matter) had no idea.
So when I was browsing through BHS grads yesterday online, I thought, “Hey, I wonder if Siobhan is on here.” I clicked on Archbishop Williams, scrolled through a few pages, and there she was. I was stunned. She looked like I pictured she would, and she still lived in the south shore area. I didn’t see her listing any colleges; I was surprised because I always thought she was pretty smart. And then I saw it- she had a child. And she wasn’t married, either. Now I was even more stunned. The wind was knocked out of me like I took a blow to the stomach. I sort of sat there in my chair for a good 10 seconds, dazed.
I suppose I had idealized her in my mind all these years- perhaps I expected to see her...well, I don’t know what I expected. Enrolled in grad school somewhere on the west coast, saving poor Ugandan orphans in her spare time? I don’t know. I just didn’t expect her to be, you know...a mom.
For me right now, the idea of having kids is just so intangible and unthinkable; I have trouble wrapping my head around the idea that anyone I grew up with and went to school with is now a parent. I’m having a difficult enough time picturing some of my classmates married!
I just watched my 32-year-old brother get married last month, and that was hard to believe. Now, in the end of September I’ll watch a girl I’ve known since 6th grade get married at St. Francis church in Braintree. As for me, I’m in arrested development, just trying to figure out how to meet girls, go on a date, and enter a relationship. I have a lot of catching up to do.
The Maritime
I love walking by this building. I pass by it everytime I go from the Chelsea pool to the 14th street subway, and it reminds me of some structure out of Blade Runner's production design department.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Free Chips? The Way To Go
I know recently wrote about the gut-filling wonder of Chipotle, but I've recently "discovered" another mexican-themed place with an even better selling hook. Burritoville offers all you can eat chips and salsa while you're eating your meal and/or waiting for your order. How's the salsa? Some of the best I've tasted in a long time. Once can waltz up to the counter, pile fresh chips onto a plate and choose from an assortment of salsas and taco sauces. This, my friend, is what I call a deal. I'm shocked my brother, carbohydrate lover chip master that he is, doesn't patronize this joint more often.
There's really no need for Chipotle to follow this business model, though, as I still can't finish their super-sized burrito anyway.
There's really no need for Chipotle to follow this business model, though, as I still can't finish their super-sized burrito anyway.
Dual Business
On my way from the subway exit to the office this morning, I walked by a man wearing a sandwich board as he passed out flyers for a local business. His sign was advertising a shoe repair store, but there was a sticker on top of the board making special note that they also specialize in buying and selling gold and silver. Huh? What do precious metals have to do with fixing the heel on a boot?
That sign reminded me of Nick's barber shop ( 2 1/2 years ago I received my last short hair cut there, and it was not a good one) over near 1st and 14th. Not only can you go there to get your hair cut, but you can buy watch batteries there, too!
That sign reminded me of Nick's barber shop ( 2 1/2 years ago I received my last short hair cut there, and it was not a good one) over near 1st and 14th. Not only can you go there to get your hair cut, but you can buy watch batteries there, too!
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Last Saturday
This past Saturday my level 3 improv class had its graduation performance. We had about 10 audience members in attendance, which was rather abysmal, espeically when compared to the level 3 performace before ours, which had a veritable crowd of 40 to watch their Harolds. Ten people in our class (we actually started 8 weeks ago with the max enrollment of 16, but it dwindled fast), and all we could manage was 10-member audience. And I, alone, was resonsible for nearly a third of the atendees!
I was glad it came to an end, as level 3 wasn't nearly as fun nor did it have as good a student body as my level 1 or level 2 classes. I'm baffled by this phenomenon, but does the talent and humor level of the other students in the class go down as you advance through the higher levels? This is what we would call an indirect relationship. One variable goes up, the other goes down. I'm crossing my fingers that level 4 will go better, but it didn't seem promising when by far the 2 worst improsers of the class emailed everyone to let them know they starting level 4 classes the following week. I'm glad I decided to take a breather- I don't know if I could have taken another class with those two. They got on my nerves and frustrated me that much. I have plenty of detailed-filled stories to back up my claims, but I won't get into them here and now.
My class actually rented a space and got together to practice the night before the show, but I didn't go. Not that I'm some social butterfly, but I could think of better things to do from 8-11pm on a Friday night in July. I opted instead to go to the 3rd and final NY performance of God's Pottery and their concert to Save Lavert. I'd already seen the workshop and the previous 2 shows, but I really likes the show and I was happy to support Krister and Wilson before they jaunt off to the Fringe Fest in Scotland for a month (where they are performing every night non-stop!).
After the God's Pottery show at UCB, the GP Boys and I headed over to the Triple Crown on 28th and 7th where Shayna Ferm was having a co-ed bachelor/bachelorette karaoke party. I didn't know a lot of people there (recognized a few from comedy shows, though), but I did my old failsafe song, Lou Rawls' "Never Gonna Find Another Love Like Mine," and acquitted myself rather well, I'm proud to write. People were cheering me on, Shayna kept saying she had no idea I could sign like that, and I had a few people come up to me afterwards saying, "That was really impressive!" Nick and Emily were just getting out of The Da Vinci Code, and shame on him for being late, because the second girl who got up to do a song stole his trademark number, Tina Turner's "Private Dancer."
It was a quality Friday night, but back to the improv show for another moment. We started warming up a little after 3:30, and our teacher, who's pretty passive and a little too under-involved for my taste, didn't direct us in any way. He just kinda sat there and told us, "Warm up," so we had to direct ourselves, which felt a little odd, but we're adults and level 3 grads, so I suppose we could handle it. We played this one game that involves a lot of running around the stage, getting the blood pumping and your heart rate up. I've never had a problem with it before, but one of the guys in the group, a rather awkward, uncoordinated fellow, managed to run by me with his arm outstretched in a clothesline fashion and his hand balled up in a fist. He ended up clocking me right in the chest. It made a loud pop and everyone running around on the stage just stopped. The punch went right into my solar plexis and completely knocked and and all wind out of me for a few moments, moreso because it was so unexpected and surprising.
I was really angry at the guy- it really did hurt, and it was still a little sore that night- but I shrugged it off the best I could and we collectively decided that there was no need to play that game any longer. Four o'clcok came and both of the girls in the class still hadn't arrived. We started strategizing what to do with our teacher with only 8 people present for the show, only then to have the 2 girls waltz in a few minutes after 4 with nary an apology or an explanation. Awesome. Way to keep class morale up!
Overall, the show wasn't the disaster I predicted. I was only in the first Harold (we drew straws to see which 2 got to go twice), and it seemed to move all right, though one scene was just DOA the whole way through. With only 10 people in the seats, it was pretty quiet, and even quieter after Nick and Emily made a getaway before the 2nd Harold began. We went out for a drink afterwards, but aside from the one guy I already knew and befriended from level 2, we never really bonded or came together as a class. I'm glad the class has concluded and now I'm free to move onto the next level when it's offered.
Afterwards, I F-trained it on down to the lower east side and got my Shark Show DJing and teching on. It was a good show, not quite matching the shocking high of the previous week, but solid nevertheless. Even though the crowds have only been in the high 20s and low 30s since summer began, the shows have gotten a lot better and more organized and pre-planned since the spring. We have the entire month of August off, which is a blessing, because it's nearly impossible to get people in the seats- either nobody wants to see comedy in the late summer or everyone's out of town over the weekend. It's a smart move.
I was glad it came to an end, as level 3 wasn't nearly as fun nor did it have as good a student body as my level 1 or level 2 classes. I'm baffled by this phenomenon, but does the talent and humor level of the other students in the class go down as you advance through the higher levels? This is what we would call an indirect relationship. One variable goes up, the other goes down. I'm crossing my fingers that level 4 will go better, but it didn't seem promising when by far the 2 worst improsers of the class emailed everyone to let them know they starting level 4 classes the following week. I'm glad I decided to take a breather- I don't know if I could have taken another class with those two. They got on my nerves and frustrated me that much. I have plenty of detailed-filled stories to back up my claims, but I won't get into them here and now.
My class actually rented a space and got together to practice the night before the show, but I didn't go. Not that I'm some social butterfly, but I could think of better things to do from 8-11pm on a Friday night in July. I opted instead to go to the 3rd and final NY performance of God's Pottery and their concert to Save Lavert. I'd already seen the workshop and the previous 2 shows, but I really likes the show and I was happy to support Krister and Wilson before they jaunt off to the Fringe Fest in Scotland for a month (where they are performing every night non-stop!).
After the God's Pottery show at UCB, the GP Boys and I headed over to the Triple Crown on 28th and 7th where Shayna Ferm was having a co-ed bachelor/bachelorette karaoke party. I didn't know a lot of people there (recognized a few from comedy shows, though), but I did my old failsafe song, Lou Rawls' "Never Gonna Find Another Love Like Mine," and acquitted myself rather well, I'm proud to write. People were cheering me on, Shayna kept saying she had no idea I could sign like that, and I had a few people come up to me afterwards saying, "That was really impressive!" Nick and Emily were just getting out of The Da Vinci Code, and shame on him for being late, because the second girl who got up to do a song stole his trademark number, Tina Turner's "Private Dancer."
It was a quality Friday night, but back to the improv show for another moment. We started warming up a little after 3:30, and our teacher, who's pretty passive and a little too under-involved for my taste, didn't direct us in any way. He just kinda sat there and told us, "Warm up," so we had to direct ourselves, which felt a little odd, but we're adults and level 3 grads, so I suppose we could handle it. We played this one game that involves a lot of running around the stage, getting the blood pumping and your heart rate up. I've never had a problem with it before, but one of the guys in the group, a rather awkward, uncoordinated fellow, managed to run by me with his arm outstretched in a clothesline fashion and his hand balled up in a fist. He ended up clocking me right in the chest. It made a loud pop and everyone running around on the stage just stopped. The punch went right into my solar plexis and completely knocked and and all wind out of me for a few moments, moreso because it was so unexpected and surprising.
I was really angry at the guy- it really did hurt, and it was still a little sore that night- but I shrugged it off the best I could and we collectively decided that there was no need to play that game any longer. Four o'clcok came and both of the girls in the class still hadn't arrived. We started strategizing what to do with our teacher with only 8 people present for the show, only then to have the 2 girls waltz in a few minutes after 4 with nary an apology or an explanation. Awesome. Way to keep class morale up!
Overall, the show wasn't the disaster I predicted. I was only in the first Harold (we drew straws to see which 2 got to go twice), and it seemed to move all right, though one scene was just DOA the whole way through. With only 10 people in the seats, it was pretty quiet, and even quieter after Nick and Emily made a getaway before the 2nd Harold began. We went out for a drink afterwards, but aside from the one guy I already knew and befriended from level 2, we never really bonded or came together as a class. I'm glad the class has concluded and now I'm free to move onto the next level when it's offered.
Afterwards, I F-trained it on down to the lower east side and got my Shark Show DJing and teching on. It was a good show, not quite matching the shocking high of the previous week, but solid nevertheless. Even though the crowds have only been in the high 20s and low 30s since summer began, the shows have gotten a lot better and more organized and pre-planned since the spring. We have the entire month of August off, which is a blessing, because it's nearly impossible to get people in the seats- either nobody wants to see comedy in the late summer or everyone's out of town over the weekend. It's a smart move.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
A Three Hankie Affair
I've seen a lot of tear-inducing movies of late. I don't know if it's my film selection or just me and my free-wheeling emotions.
Last week I "netflixed" (is this word, as a verb, entered into the OED yet? It should be) Eight Below. Wow, you know, I actually typed out 'Snow Dogs' first and then realized that I would never be caught dead renting that Cuba Gooding, Jr. movie. And don't get on me for watching Eight Below, either. It was a terrific film. I thought it would be Disney drivel when it was released in theaters over the winter, but when all the glowing reviews started coming in, I changed my mind and decided I wanted to see it, though I didn't deem it worthy of an $11 ticket at the theater. And you know what? I was wrong- I think I would have enjoyed it even more on the big screen since the cinematography of the Arctic landscape (they used Northwestern Canada to sub in for Antarctica) was so well shot.
Eight Below, while being very earnest, is also a tear-jerkey, especially for a dog/animal loving person such as myself. A powerful storm hits the area where a scientific tema is stationed and the have to be flown out of the region immediately. With no room on the plane for the sled dogs, they're left behind to fend for themselves for six months while Paul Walker tries like the dickens to convince someone to fly him back down there to rescue them.
After the first 45 minutes of setup and exposition, this movie quickly becomes a cry-a-thon. Now, I didn't start out anf out bawling, but there were at least 3-4 moments where my eyes started to well up with moisture. And the movie doesn't hammer it home incessantly, either. It's just a dramatic story, and one actually based on fact (from when a Japanese team was evacuated and some of their dogs managed to survive the winter until they returned). The dogs are constantly in peril while their owner is powerless to save them until the winter passes. This formula equals eye misting everytime, people.
Two weeks ago I attended an Onion-sponsored screening of The Iron Giant, the animated movie from 1999 that Brad Bird directed before The Incredibles. After that monster hit for Pixar, this gem of a forgotten, ignored movied started getting the recognition it deserved. I watched a horribly scratched print of it when I worked at Quincy Cinemas back in the summer of '99 when I worked there, and I always felt a little cheated. Getting to see it in the theater again, with a sold out, appreciative audience to boot, was a wonderful, fortunate experience. And even though I've seen it about 7 times now and showed it to all my students in Turkey last year, I still got choked up near the end. That's some powerful stuff right there. If you haven't seen it, or if, god forbid, you've never heard of this movie, get thee to a video store or put it high up in your queue soon. It's quick, clean, rich, and full of odd bits of humor at every unforeseen turn. It's about time The Iron Giant gets its due from the masses.
And lastly, my worst offense by far, has to be The Notebook, which I rented back in April. And no, I wasn't forced to watch it with a girl, either. On Nick and Emily's advice, I rented it of my own volition and watched it by myself at my apartment. See, I'm fessing up; this is full disclosure, people. I have no secrets to hide. I sat alone on my couch one night, watched The Notebook, and enjoyed the hell out of it. And I cried. More than once.
Ahhh, I feel like a great weight has been lifted. Again, this was one of those movies I'd never deign worth seeing in the theater, though I remember noticing how its box office receipts hardly decreased from week to week when it was out 2 or 3 summers ago. I'm a big fan of Gosling and McAdams, and the movie just worked, much aided by their undeniable chemistry and well, talent, too.
My only qualm was with the final 10 minutes. It just went overboard a little too far, nearly pushing it into Movie of the Week territory. And for me, the ending was too much of a downer. I know it's supposed to be romantic and bitter-sweet, but I just tasted the bitter part. They could have just ended the movie in the past and not gone back to the present-day happenings and I would have been far happier (because we all knew what was going on in the present day wouldn't have a happy endind- why show it in full, graphic detail like that after such a sweet finale in the flashbacks?).
Those are my 3 tear-inducing movies of 2006 so far.
It's funny how my 2 of my 3 worst tear-jerkers were Michael Keaton movies. Number one all time has to be the Gary Sinine/ John Malkovich version of Of Mice and Men. I watched that in 6th grade and bawled my eyes out for over an hour after it ended. I was a wreck.
Number 2 is My Life with Michael Keaton, where he plays a man who finds out he only has a few months to live. With a baby on the way, he videotapes himself so his son can watch the tapes one day and know who his father really was. I remember watching it in my den one hot summer afternoon, and Nick was home from college at the time. He walked in from doing some yard work and watched the last 15 minutes with me, and we both ended up reaching for the paper towels multiple times in the homestretch. And Nick hadn't even watched the first hour and a half! That movie slayed us.
And number 3 is Jack Frost. Not a movie I'd ever pay to see in the theater or rent, mind you- I watched it for free on an airplane. It was January of 2000- Mom, Nick, and I had just boarded our Alitalia flight headed for Rome, and we were all excited because this was our first trip ever outside the country. It was a red-eye flight, so after dinner had been served a lot of the passengers, my mom included, went to sleep, but Nick and I were so wired, we decided to watch Jack Frost, a movie we were utterly and completely apathetic to. Well, halfway into the movie, the both of us have tears streaming down our cheeks and we're trying our best to hold it in and save face. We were on an airpane for cryin' out loud. It was our first international trip. "Pull yourselves together!" we thought. But we couldn't. Not when the little kid was making a snowman all by himself in his front yard right after his Dad died.
And the ending, it really stuck it to us. There was no holding back at that point. We could only fight off the lumps in our throats for so long before we had to let it out. As Jack Frost ended and the credits began to roll, our Mom woke up beside us and was shocked awake by the sight of the two of us going on and crying like babies. She thought something terrible had happened. "What's wrong?!" she bellowed out. Nothing, Mom. It was just this damn movie, Jack Frost. Yeah, that got the better of both us that night.
Like I said, full disclosure. I have no secrets. I'm in touch with my emotions (maybe a bit too much at times) and you're all gonna just have to deal with it.
Last week I "netflixed" (is this word, as a verb, entered into the OED yet? It should be) Eight Below. Wow, you know, I actually typed out 'Snow Dogs' first and then realized that I would never be caught dead renting that Cuba Gooding, Jr. movie. And don't get on me for watching Eight Below, either. It was a terrific film. I thought it would be Disney drivel when it was released in theaters over the winter, but when all the glowing reviews started coming in, I changed my mind and decided I wanted to see it, though I didn't deem it worthy of an $11 ticket at the theater. And you know what? I was wrong- I think I would have enjoyed it even more on the big screen since the cinematography of the Arctic landscape (they used Northwestern Canada to sub in for Antarctica) was so well shot.
Eight Below, while being very earnest, is also a tear-jerkey, especially for a dog/animal loving person such as myself. A powerful storm hits the area where a scientific tema is stationed and the have to be flown out of the region immediately. With no room on the plane for the sled dogs, they're left behind to fend for themselves for six months while Paul Walker tries like the dickens to convince someone to fly him back down there to rescue them.
After the first 45 minutes of setup and exposition, this movie quickly becomes a cry-a-thon. Now, I didn't start out anf out bawling, but there were at least 3-4 moments where my eyes started to well up with moisture. And the movie doesn't hammer it home incessantly, either. It's just a dramatic story, and one actually based on fact (from when a Japanese team was evacuated and some of their dogs managed to survive the winter until they returned). The dogs are constantly in peril while their owner is powerless to save them until the winter passes. This formula equals eye misting everytime, people.
Two weeks ago I attended an Onion-sponsored screening of The Iron Giant, the animated movie from 1999 that Brad Bird directed before The Incredibles. After that monster hit for Pixar, this gem of a forgotten, ignored movied started getting the recognition it deserved. I watched a horribly scratched print of it when I worked at Quincy Cinemas back in the summer of '99 when I worked there, and I always felt a little cheated. Getting to see it in the theater again, with a sold out, appreciative audience to boot, was a wonderful, fortunate experience. And even though I've seen it about 7 times now and showed it to all my students in Turkey last year, I still got choked up near the end. That's some powerful stuff right there. If you haven't seen it, or if, god forbid, you've never heard of this movie, get thee to a video store or put it high up in your queue soon. It's quick, clean, rich, and full of odd bits of humor at every unforeseen turn. It's about time The Iron Giant gets its due from the masses.
And lastly, my worst offense by far, has to be The Notebook, which I rented back in April. And no, I wasn't forced to watch it with a girl, either. On Nick and Emily's advice, I rented it of my own volition and watched it by myself at my apartment. See, I'm fessing up; this is full disclosure, people. I have no secrets to hide. I sat alone on my couch one night, watched The Notebook, and enjoyed the hell out of it. And I cried. More than once.
Ahhh, I feel like a great weight has been lifted. Again, this was one of those movies I'd never deign worth seeing in the theater, though I remember noticing how its box office receipts hardly decreased from week to week when it was out 2 or 3 summers ago. I'm a big fan of Gosling and McAdams, and the movie just worked, much aided by their undeniable chemistry and well, talent, too.
My only qualm was with the final 10 minutes. It just went overboard a little too far, nearly pushing it into Movie of the Week territory. And for me, the ending was too much of a downer. I know it's supposed to be romantic and bitter-sweet, but I just tasted the bitter part. They could have just ended the movie in the past and not gone back to the present-day happenings and I would have been far happier (because we all knew what was going on in the present day wouldn't have a happy endind- why show it in full, graphic detail like that after such a sweet finale in the flashbacks?).
Those are my 3 tear-inducing movies of 2006 so far.
It's funny how my 2 of my 3 worst tear-jerkers were Michael Keaton movies. Number one all time has to be the Gary Sinine/ John Malkovich version of Of Mice and Men. I watched that in 6th grade and bawled my eyes out for over an hour after it ended. I was a wreck.
Number 2 is My Life with Michael Keaton, where he plays a man who finds out he only has a few months to live. With a baby on the way, he videotapes himself so his son can watch the tapes one day and know who his father really was. I remember watching it in my den one hot summer afternoon, and Nick was home from college at the time. He walked in from doing some yard work and watched the last 15 minutes with me, and we both ended up reaching for the paper towels multiple times in the homestretch. And Nick hadn't even watched the first hour and a half! That movie slayed us.
And number 3 is Jack Frost. Not a movie I'd ever pay to see in the theater or rent, mind you- I watched it for free on an airplane. It was January of 2000- Mom, Nick, and I had just boarded our Alitalia flight headed for Rome, and we were all excited because this was our first trip ever outside the country. It was a red-eye flight, so after dinner had been served a lot of the passengers, my mom included, went to sleep, but Nick and I were so wired, we decided to watch Jack Frost, a movie we were utterly and completely apathetic to. Well, halfway into the movie, the both of us have tears streaming down our cheeks and we're trying our best to hold it in and save face. We were on an airpane for cryin' out loud. It was our first international trip. "Pull yourselves together!" we thought. But we couldn't. Not when the little kid was making a snowman all by himself in his front yard right after his Dad died.
And the ending, it really stuck it to us. There was no holding back at that point. We could only fight off the lumps in our throats for so long before we had to let it out. As Jack Frost ended and the credits began to roll, our Mom woke up beside us and was shocked awake by the sight of the two of us going on and crying like babies. She thought something terrible had happened. "What's wrong?!" she bellowed out. Nothing, Mom. It was just this damn movie, Jack Frost. Yeah, that got the better of both us that night.
Like I said, full disclosure. I have no secrets. I'm in touch with my emotions (maybe a bit too much at times) and you're all gonna just have to deal with it.
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