End of the Summer Blowout

So ends another summer season here on the planet Earth, lazy, crazy days usually filled by the three Rs-rest, relaxation and recreation. Instead these past few months have chalk full of life lessons for us all, myself included.

And just what have we learned this summer?

The London bombings brought back some nasty reminders that terrorism has become a way of life in the 21st century.

Gas prices prove once and for all that the true terrorists are the major oil companies who had record sales at a time when the rest of us are struggling.


Karl Rove will walk away unscathed when he should be tarred and feathered.

The Democrats are spineless. Oh, we already know that.

Pat Robertson is the American equivalent of a radical cleric.

They are never going to find out what happened to Natalee Holloway.

The mother of a dead soldier can be demonized by the right, turned into a martyr on the left and a dancing monkey for the media.

Best movie of the summer: War of the Worlds.

Biggest tool of the summer: Tom Cruise.

Most welcome return to TV: Anthony Bourdain on The Travel Channel’s No Reservations. Bourdain’s book, Kitchen Confidential, was my final inspiration to complete my book In the Dark.

Six Feet Under went out with a whimper (Bad old age makeup! Bad!), but the episodes leading up to the finale were among the best of the series. Oh, and Lauren Ambrose is the best actress of her generation.

I was only able to watch the first episode of Over There. While excellent, this depiction of the current Iraq war is too damn close for casual TV viewing. The world has changed since WW II.

Best TV commercials: Capital One’s Vikings. Maybe they should unleash their wrath on David Spade.

Revenge of the Sith did not suck ass. Much.

Batman Begins completed a geek hat trick (War and Sith included), living up to its hype. Christopher Nolan managed to recreate on the screen not only what Frank Miller brought to The Batman character, but also the contributions of Denny O’Neil and Neal Adams. The only drawback was the slapdash editing of the fight scenes, rendering them confused and unfocused. It seemed as though the chopped up, speeded up method was covering up discrepancies in the staging of these scenes. If I happened to be the stunt coordinator, I would have been pissed. Nothing like good work gone to waste. Isn’t it also rather telling that here’s an All American character like Batman portrayed, and excellently, by another Brit (okay Welsh…eh, Waler, goddamn it, an actor from Wales!) In fact, almost every Brit or Aussie or what have you is playing an American except Liam Neeson and (thankfully) Michael Caine, who cannot do an American accent to save his life. Who were the token Yanks? Morgan Freeman and Katie Holmes. USA! USA!

Celebrity spottings this summer:
Gus Van Sant at the Portland Whole Foods.
Gary the Retard from The Howard Stern Show on an Alaskan Airlines flight to Oakland.
Minka, the 44 Double K Cup stripper at the Oakland Airport. She looked very…uncomfortable.

The main thing I learned this summer was to finally begin to accept the Passage of Time. On a recent trip to California, I found many of the things I loved in the past that have just gone away- the great Coronet Theater in San Francisco where I saw Star Wars when it first opened as well as many other films. It was always an event and the Coronet’s massive presentation never failed to overwhelm. My beloved Café Riggio, almost directly across the street from the Coronet, also recently shut its doors. My very favorite restaurant, an establishment I had visited with many a lady friend in my time since the early eighties and never failed me on either a culinary or a romantic level, is no more. While it makes me sad and nostalgic for some good ol’ days, the truth is that I haven’t been to either establishment in over ten years. I had put them behind long before the end of the century so it’s really absurd to mourn their demise. Somehow seeing that they both are gone now was a wake up call for me. Yep. A wake up call for mortality. Ain’t that a kick in the ass?

Class dismissed.

Woe of the Woewolds

Sometimes I just want to ball up my fist and punch myself in the forehead a half-dozen times for being such a dope. I actually let the recent retarded rambling and antics of one Little Tommy Cruise, actor/Scientologist spokesperson/chimpboy, influence my decision to see Steven Spielberg's remake of The War of the Worlds or not.
Who's the chimpboy now?
I wasn't all that thrilled about this project to begin with. It had all the makings of a been there, done that experience, especially after Independence Day, which, with all its flaws (and they were legion), still delivered the goods of a terrific summer blockbuster. And Spielberg, while his output of the last ten years has been exemplary (especially A.I., to me one of his best), still hasn't really wowed us as an audience since Jurassic Park. When I finally saw the trailer for this extravaganza, all I could think was...feh. Usually, my gut instincts are correct: Bad trailer=Bad movie. The trailer for War of the Worlds wasn't bad, it was just unexceptional. You know. Feh.
Then there was the casting of Cruise, never one of my favorite actors and always pretty much of a goddamn annoyance as far as I was concerned. At best, I find him competent and at worst, insincere in his over-abundance of sincerity to the point that if he flashes those pearly whites in my direction, I'll smash 'em out with a swing from the nearest shovel. So the casting of one Jerome Maguire did not instill any added inducement for me. I think he's been excellent in sustaining an incredibly successful career for so long, putting in the top echelon of film actors. But there is one undeniable factoid about him:
Tom Cruise has never been cool nor will he ever be.
Then came the ill-fated publicity tour for this movie when Tommy Boy showed his ass on what seemed to be a daily basis. First he was proclaiming his love for some generic starlet (yes I know who Katie Holmes is. There's just no real reason she should appear on any of my radar screens. This applies to about 98% of this year's crop of young "talent".) Then Professor Cruise engaged noted poet laureate Matt Lauer in a Scientology v.s. psychology debate, leaving poor Brooke Shields' post partum depressed body in his wake. Oh, by the way...what was the name of that movie you were supposed to be promoting? If I were Spielberg, I would have put his star in a shark cage. "You go in the cage, cage goes in the water, shark's in the water...our shark.
Farewell and adieu, my dear crazy Tommy...."
The movie is finally released under a cloak of secrecy-certainly Tom didn't reveal anything about it while jumping up and down about his new beard...eh, fiancee. And I had about had enough of this jerk that it actually made me wish that someone else starred in it so that my interest might be at least a little piqued. Anyone. Even, say, Elmer Fudd.
"The Woe of the Woewolds...Thewe's something awfuwwy scwewy going on awound heaw. Oh, hewwow, awiens. Huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh..."
But no, it was Tom Frickin' Cruise and I'd have to put up with him...or just forget about it and move on.
Four weeks later, I gave it a reluctant shot and as Elmer's friend Bugs said, "What a maroon!"
War of the Worlds completely blew my socks off. Bar none, it is the best summer movie of this decade. Spielberg has never been in better form. His film is jolting, exciting, frightening and totally unforgettable. Wisely avoiding the rah-rah disaster movie antics of ID4, Spielberg instead concentrates his attention on one family's fight for survival-Cruise as an emotionally deadbeat dad and his two kids-the scarily talented Dakota Fanning and the underrated Justin Chatwind as his teenage son. The three of them attempt to escape the onslaught of the aliens from a specific "ground zero" and find there isn't anywhere to hide. While the story is simplistic by design, it allows the enormity of the aliens' attack to be so much more threatening in its scale. Spielberg has been a bit subversive in exploiting the fears we have in today's world for his story-but then again so did Wells and Welles-H.G. and Orson, respectively. There are only a few quibbles I have. First of all Tim Robbins' basement is too close to the main action, making it rather uncomfortably convenient and contrived. Then there is a mini-Spielbergian cornball moment at the end that he should have left on the set of Hook.
Finally the narration at the beginning and end, while necessary, are rather cliche. Those aside, everything else is so outstanding that if I ever met Spielberg, I will immediately apologize for ever doubting him. It's like the return of an old friend. Welcome back, maestro.
As for Cruise, all right, I'll say it. I never liked him any better than here. He is absolutely believable in this role, a weak man finding strength in crisis and discovering, well, both his heart and his balls.
War of the Worlds is one great movie. It deserves to be seen in a theater because it is so overwhelming, you should just surrender yourself for the maximum experience. You won't regret it.
As for the off-screen Tom, I don't know what to say. I think his actions have hurt the potential box office of this film, much in the same way that I think Russell Crowe's telephone pitching arm hurt Opie Cunningham's Cinderella Man.
So what should Tom do to remedy this?
Maybe he should get his head examined.
Huhuhuhuhuhuhuh...