Labor Pains

As Labor Day signals the end of another summer, it's time to sit back and reflect on the season gone by.

Well, that was quick.

The record heat this year is responsible for losing me as a fan of summertime. I don't do extremes very well any longer. Maybe I should move into a nice temperature-controlled mall. On the other hand, life was certainly a lot easier with the miracle of air-conditioning. (You can blame me personally for destroying the planet, greenies) We've lived in a rented townhouse for the past nine years, originally through a property management group. When we moved in, we were informed there was no central air. Fine and dandy, we thought. We had already lived in an apartment w/o said amenity, making do with ceiling fans. This place had no such appliance in any room. My son Matt graciously donated his two box fans that we placed strategically in the house. We made due with what we had. Besides, this is Oregon. It never gets above 90 for very long. Who needs anything else? It's like umbrellas here. They're for rain-sensitive pussies. Cut to: Last Year at this time. The townhouse owners decided to wisely show the property management group to the curb due to their gross incompetence (Their name is The Alpine Group, by the way. If you're in the market for a new abode, steer clear of these maroons.) The owners took over the lease and after our initial meeting, they inquired as to how the place was holding up. For example:

"How's the air conditioning working?" they asked.

"We don't have air conditioning," we scoffed.

"You'd better have air conditioning. We paid for it."

The owner walked over to the thermostat and flipped the switch. For the first time in eight years in this home, we had air conditioning.

Thank goodness for that. Egg on the face is so much worse in the heat.

I didn't attend one movie this summer, the first time in forever. There was nothing I felt compelled to run out to the cinema that I couldn't wait for at home. Isn't that a sad state of affairs? Even worse was another fatal shooting in Louisiana, echoing the psychotic Colorado rampage that finally made its way through the courts. On top of that, when I do finally visit a local cinema, it will a solo affair as per my usual. I allowed a nitwitted Facebook posting to take me aback, proclaiming that "There a guy sitting behind us in the theater...AND HE'S ALL BY HIMSELF! OMG! I CAN'T RELAX AND ENJOY THE MOVIE! WHAT IF HE...???". 

I don't know. Told you to put your fucking phone away during the movie, you dumb-ass doorknob. But that's not what kept me out of the theaters this summer. Product and product alone. Sequels, remakes and bland blah blah blah.

Naturally, that other thing didn't help matters any. Paranoia, justified or not, can't help but creep into what used to be considered our general well-being. Profiling can't be avoided when the guilty parties fir the same demographic.But those that don't are seen as predatory time-bombs, ready to snatch your kids and/or waste everyone with the same vigor as aggressively taking out the garbage.

So no film outings for me this summer, but I wasn't a complete shut-in.

Fortunately I managed to see Grant-Lee Phillips this last May in concert at the Alberta Rose Theater in Portland, performing with Steve Holtz, a fine singer/songwriter in his right. After yet another amazing set by this artist I'm proud to call my friend, I had an all-too brief but still gratifying reunion with Grant. He gave me a copy of his 2012 album WALKING IN THE GREEN CORN, another sensational solo work that I highly recommend, containing one of his most beautiful compositions, "Bound to this World". Yeah, I'm three years late to this party. What else is new? Besides, is there an expiration date on art?

GRANT LEE PHILLIPS' WALKING IN THE GREEN CORN

In the meantime, the world continues to back up my proclamation that 2015 is the Year of the Sap. Need I really mention Trump? I think not. How about the other occupants of the clown car known as the Republican presidential contenders? Hillary ain't looking so good, but I don't think she ever did. Christ, will she win by default? Bernie Sanders is this election's Dennis Kucinich and Dopey Joe...oh, say it isn't so. It looks like I am probably sitting this election out and will be proud to admit it. Add this to the ongoing shit storm of cop killings, black people killings, religious crackheads, sandwich pedophiles, moralistic hackers, transcendental transgenders...it all makes me want to yell "Uncle!" 

But I won't, Not just yet. There's a balance in my world at least.

I haven't mentioned the stage productions of my melodramas because I have done so ad nauseam. I'll only say that it was indeed a swell season professionally and it's even sweller to able to say those words. (See previous post- A MELO SUMMER)

The BIG event of the summer was the visitation of family members far and wide when I got immersed in major grandpa love from my three grandchillun. That's the icing on the cake known as Summer 2015 and my life in general. It's a well-worn cliche to say that one most focus on us on what is best in life. No, Conan, it's not to crush your enemies, see them drive before you and to hear the lamentations of their women. Those are pretty sweet, but at this point in my time here on Earth, I take solace in this:. I have a great family and feel blessed to be a part of it. They manage to center this oft-kilter life of mine and the time in which I exist. Things could always be better until I am in their embrace. Then I realize that this is the best of all possible worlds. Everything else can take a powder.

So long, Summer

Bring on the Fall.

State of the Cinema 2014

Finally, a decent night at the cinema hath soothed the savage breast. Alas, I don't think it going to last.

After a one-two punch of birthday movies spoiled by ineffectual sound proofing at the local movie storage unit aka the neighborhood multiplex, it was with great trepidation that I ventured once again into said House of Tards because I am indeed a glutton for punishment and a whiny ass bitch of the highest caliber. How else to fill a blog? With positivity and inspiration? Who am I-Andrew Weir?

In January, the poor experiences at both NEBRASKA and THE WOLF OF WALL STREET nearly made me give up the ghost and say goodbye to theaters once and for all, even though this is the holiest of all holy experiences for moi. Both films, fine as they may be, were marred with the BOOM BOOM BOOMS from the rude neighbors in the auditoriums next door showing RIDE ALONG and some other piece of dung meat that tarnishes the once silver screens of the world. I had to rewatch these movies at home to get what I wanted out of them and they deserved better than the Regal Theater chain had to offer.

But since I had vowed to see THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL in a theater, I headed off to the same damn place (shame on me) because it was conveniently close to home on a quiet Sunday night and I am if nothing else, a gamblin' man. Lo and behold, two other couples occupied one of the larger auditoriums and nary a peep did I hear from them or whatever the hell was playing in the adjoining theater  Saints be praised.

Of the film, I have nothing but praise for Wes Anderson's film, another feather in his director's cap. He truly is one of those event filmmakers, one whose work will drag my sorry ass out of my home and into a theater seat like the snake charmer that he is. Ralph Fiennes portrayal of M. Gustave is stupendous, a rascal of the highest order right up there with Gene Hackman's Royal Tenenbaum. And it is so refreshing to see F. Murray Abraham in a decent role at last. When was the last time-AMADEUS? My only complaint is that the cast is filled with so many names with so little to do turning the film into what critic Judith Crist used to call a "Hey look!" movie. "Hey look! There's Bill Murray! Hey look! There's Jason Schwartzman!" But this isn't really as review per se, so let's just say THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL gets the Cherney Seal of Approval.

My one decent movie-going experience for 2014 is unfortunately the exception to the rule. This bloody multiplex ridden industry has served to deteriorate the experience itself. There's no pride in this sort of exhibition, just a head em up and move em out mentality that turns this joints into corrals and the audience into the livestock that have become. Small wonder why people act as they do in these establishments. They're nothing special so why should they act any differently than they would at the tractor pull?

Once upon a time, movie studios owned their theaters to exhibit their product. The government broke these up claiming a monopoly on the free market which they were, but at least they took care of their own. Now, the exhibitors and studios hold each other in contempt, both turning out inferior products. Weasely Jeffrey Katzenberg of Dreamworks Studio is calling for a three week window for new movies, meaning three weeks in a theater before it's released to the home market for on demand or streaming.

READ THE STORY HERE             

That's all well and good for all the sequels and rehashes Jeffy's been churning out of his sausage factory for the past twenty years. Pricks like this have signed the death knell for movie theaters. But since they don't seem to care in the first place, it may be nothing more than assisted suicide.

But hey, it's the summer blah-buster season. It should be another record year at the box office. That is, as long as it still exists.
 
The clock is ticking.