A lot of you probably figured this was coming. I knew when (if) the Hawks closed out the cup finals that I would probably post some type of sentimental twaddle about how much this meant to me.
Turns out, this means more to me than I realized.
When Kane's 5-hole shot found it's way underneath the pads of Mike Leighton, I was stunned. To the point that for the first time in my life I was speechless. All of a sudden, 30 years of being a Hawks fan came crashing over me in waves. I've always been a Hawks fan. Ever since I can remember, the likes of Roenick, Chelios, Smith, Larmer, Murray, Grimson, Manson and the like have been the focal point of my sports life. When the Hawks were swept by Super Mario and the Pens, I was crushed. It's one of the few times I remember seeing my Dad sad. I had a very hard time taking that.
I've poured my heart into other teams. I've lived and died with the White Sox. I've put it all out there for the 49ers. Only one team have I ever pushed my soul towards. The Hawks, after 30 years of my life, have finally paid me back. I remember being up at the University of North Dakota drinking one night (which happened to be draft night), when I found out that the Hawks had taken Jonathan Toews with the 3rd pick in the draft. I called everyone that I knew. So very few people even gave a shit for me to get a few words out. But in my heart, I knew. It was finally happening. It was turning around, and I was going to be a part of it. 4 Years ago, I bought a 15-game plan when nobody gave a shit about the Hawks. I really couldn't blame them. The Hawks had been to the playoffs 1 time since I'd graduated high school. But I knew. Then came the lucky ping pong ball. Hawks had a 1.9% chance of getting the #1 overall pick. And it happened. So I went to the UC for the Draft Day party. There were maybe 1,000 of us. 1,000 of us that could feel the momentum shift. That night we took Patrick Kane with the #1 pick in the draft. And the feeling got deeper.
I traded my 15 game pack for a full-season ticket package. 2 seats, section 329, row 12, seats 7 and 8. I'd always promised myself that someday I would own season tickets to the Hawks, for me and my dad. Now I'd fulfilled that dream, and the Hawks kept getting better. Dollar Bill Wirtz died. Rocky took over. And the momentum kept rolling. Names like Bolland, Byfuglien, and Brouwer began to show their presence. The Hawks just missed the playoffs by a few points. I renewed my season ticket package. Marty Havlat made me believe. Johnny Toews made me believe. Kane, Seabrook, and Keith made me believe. Then we were in the Western Conference Finals against the hated Detroit Red Wings.
We lost.
Despite the setback, I told myself that nothing but good could come from the loss. Lessons were learned. Hossas were signed. Then we were right back where we were. Instead of the Wings, it was our new rival, the Sharks. A team that had dominated us for the previous 5 years. 4 games later, and the Hawks were playing for the cup.
You all know how it ended. You saw Kaner's goal. What you didn't see was my soul. My soul being set free. My years of depression watching other teams succeed while the Hawks floundered. The years sitting in a 1/3rd full United Center, looking up at the banners thinking "someday". Well, today is that day. All the effort, joy and sorrow I've put into being a fan. All the game to game emotion I've felt. The effort I've put into getting people to like hockey again when it seemed as if there was no point. All that has been repaid tenfold. All that was repaid when Jonathan Toews picked up the greatest trophy in all of sports, and skated directly over to his team. All that was repaid when Jeremy Roenick, my favorite Hawk of all time, broke down into tears on NBC saying how proud he was. All that was repaid when I saw the look on my dad's face, who had suffered longer than I.
All that was paid back, with interest. All that and more, when I watched a 22-year old kid pick up a trophy, and with that, my soul.
One Goal.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Yay Movies: Kick Ass
Wow.
That's pretty much the only way you can describe this flick. Just plain Wow. I actually had very high hopes heading into this flick, having seen about 15 minutes of it in a preview at last year's Wizard World Chicago (Tag Line: "Now with even more BO!"). I'd also followed the comic, which came out at the brisk pace of about one issue every 21 weeks. I enjoyed the comic, and was duly impressed with what I'd seen at Wiz World, but neither prepared me for the bundle of awesome that the flick ended up being.
The basic premise is that a nerd high school student named Dave Lizewski (played by Brit Aaron Johnson) wonders why nobody has ever tried to actually put on a costume and fight crime. When you actually get past the insanity of that statement, there is some merit to the question. In a world of mental illness and insanity, the fact that somebody hasn't put on a skull t-shirt yet and gone all "Punisher" out there is a bit of a surprise. Anyways, after watching (and being a victim of) a few muggings, Dave decides enough is enough. He orders a wetsuit online, and creates a costume for himself. Training for a whole 2 weeks, Dave sets out to save the world, one shithead at a time. His first attempt goes awry when some muggers beat him down, stab him, and leave him for dead. As if this wasn't bad enough, Dave stumbles into the street and is promptly drilled by a toolbox in a sedan.
12 weeks later, with metal pins and screws throughout his body (plus some nerve damage that prevents him from feeling much pain), Dave takes another shot at it. This time, he's a bit more successful, helping a guy getting his teeth kicked in by a couple of gangbangers. The whole thing is filmed by a kid with a cellphone, and is posted on YouTube. Going by the moniker "Kick Ass", Dave becomes the latest internet sensation and is all over the tube. This attracts the attention of two other "super heroes" played by Nick Cage (Alias: Big Daddy) and his 11 year old daughter played by newcomer Chole Moretz (Alias: Hit Girl). He stumbles onto the radar of a mob boss (Mark Strong) and his son (Chris Mintz-Plasse aka McLovin) and the movie totally goes off the rails.
Chock full of action (some of it, especially at the end, completely over the top), humor, and ridiculously bad language courtesy of Scottish writer Mark Miller, Kick Ass never fails to entertain. I absolutely loved the flick, simply because it takes a premise that most of us have thought about doing before, and delivers it in a completely realistic manner. It shows us exactly why most of us never go past the dreaming stage when we consider becoming a costumed crusader. Most of all, it is just a good time at the movie theater. Check it out, because I give it a 9 out of 10. On the Butts scale, it would rate a "gooooooood".
That's pretty much the only way you can describe this flick. Just plain Wow. I actually had very high hopes heading into this flick, having seen about 15 minutes of it in a preview at last year's Wizard World Chicago (Tag Line: "Now with even more BO!"). I'd also followed the comic, which came out at the brisk pace of about one issue every 21 weeks. I enjoyed the comic, and was duly impressed with what I'd seen at Wiz World, but neither prepared me for the bundle of awesome that the flick ended up being.
The basic premise is that a nerd high school student named Dave Lizewski (played by Brit Aaron Johnson) wonders why nobody has ever tried to actually put on a costume and fight crime. When you actually get past the insanity of that statement, there is some merit to the question. In a world of mental illness and insanity, the fact that somebody hasn't put on a skull t-shirt yet and gone all "Punisher" out there is a bit of a surprise. Anyways, after watching (and being a victim of) a few muggings, Dave decides enough is enough. He orders a wetsuit online, and creates a costume for himself. Training for a whole 2 weeks, Dave sets out to save the world, one shithead at a time. His first attempt goes awry when some muggers beat him down, stab him, and leave him for dead. As if this wasn't bad enough, Dave stumbles into the street and is promptly drilled by a toolbox in a sedan.
12 weeks later, with metal pins and screws throughout his body (plus some nerve damage that prevents him from feeling much pain), Dave takes another shot at it. This time, he's a bit more successful, helping a guy getting his teeth kicked in by a couple of gangbangers. The whole thing is filmed by a kid with a cellphone, and is posted on YouTube. Going by the moniker "Kick Ass", Dave becomes the latest internet sensation and is all over the tube. This attracts the attention of two other "super heroes" played by Nick Cage (Alias: Big Daddy) and his 11 year old daughter played by newcomer Chole Moretz (Alias: Hit Girl). He stumbles onto the radar of a mob boss (Mark Strong) and his son (Chris Mintz-Plasse aka McLovin) and the movie totally goes off the rails.
Chock full of action (some of it, especially at the end, completely over the top), humor, and ridiculously bad language courtesy of Scottish writer Mark Miller, Kick Ass never fails to entertain. I absolutely loved the flick, simply because it takes a premise that most of us have thought about doing before, and delivers it in a completely realistic manner. It shows us exactly why most of us never go past the dreaming stage when we consider becoming a costumed crusader. Most of all, it is just a good time at the movie theater. Check it out, because I give it a 9 out of 10. On the Butts scale, it would rate a "gooooooood".
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Yay Movies: Date Night
What do you get when you put two of the funniest people on television in a movie with an above average script and lots of funny cameos? I'll give you a hint: it's not another Will Ferrell movie, it's Date Night.
With Steve Carell and Tina Fey, you get exactly what you paid for. Hysterical comedy delivered by some top-notch talent. Both actors, having come up on the mean streets of the Second City comedy scene, have impeccable timing and excellent chemistry with each other. Not only that, but they are believable in their roles as a suburban New Jersey couple who have settled into their married life, and are shackled down by routine. In an effort to spice up their love life and be spontaneous, they take a trip into NYC and try to get a table at an exclusive seafood restaurant called "Klaw". Obviously on a Friday night in a trendy new restaurant there are no available tables. So they hang out at the bar, and after the "Tripplehorn" party of two never arrives, they steal the reservation. After enjoying their meal, they are accosted by a couple of thugs, who drag them out to the alley behind the restaurant. The pair (one of which is played by Common) demand the "flash drive" that the "Tripplehorns" are trying to blackmail them with. What follows isn't at all original, but extremely enjoyable nontheless. Fey and Carell carry the entire movie, and their banter and reactions to one another had me laughing out loud.
The hysterical cameos by Mark "say hi to ya mother for me" Wahlberg, and James Franco highlight the rest of the flick. Other notable names that appear throughout the movie are Ray Liota (who plays a gangster, big f'ing shock I know), Mila Kunis, Kristen Wiig and Mark Ruffalo. William Fichtner (trust me, you know him) does a great job as a creepy sex-addict District Attorney ("Sex Robots" is one of the funniest lines in the film). The real glue here is Carell and Fey. Without those two, it's just a run of the mill mistaken identity film. For their outstanding work, Date Night gets an 8 out of 10 (or a "goooood" on the Butts Film Scale, hereafter referred to as the BFS).
Coming Soon:
A "Summer Movies That I Give A Shit About" preview, as I run down the flicks that have made my Summer "to see" list, including my expected grades. Also this weekend "Kick Ass" comes out, a comic book flick that I am very pumped to see. If you believe Mark Millar (and I do), it may be quite the sleeper hit. We'll see...
With Steve Carell and Tina Fey, you get exactly what you paid for. Hysterical comedy delivered by some top-notch talent. Both actors, having come up on the mean streets of the Second City comedy scene, have impeccable timing and excellent chemistry with each other. Not only that, but they are believable in their roles as a suburban New Jersey couple who have settled into their married life, and are shackled down by routine. In an effort to spice up their love life and be spontaneous, they take a trip into NYC and try to get a table at an exclusive seafood restaurant called "Klaw". Obviously on a Friday night in a trendy new restaurant there are no available tables. So they hang out at the bar, and after the "Tripplehorn" party of two never arrives, they steal the reservation. After enjoying their meal, they are accosted by a couple of thugs, who drag them out to the alley behind the restaurant. The pair (one of which is played by Common) demand the "flash drive" that the "Tripplehorns" are trying to blackmail them with. What follows isn't at all original, but extremely enjoyable nontheless. Fey and Carell carry the entire movie, and their banter and reactions to one another had me laughing out loud.
The hysterical cameos by Mark "say hi to ya mother for me" Wahlberg, and James Franco highlight the rest of the flick. Other notable names that appear throughout the movie are Ray Liota (who plays a gangster, big f'ing shock I know), Mila Kunis, Kristen Wiig and Mark Ruffalo. William Fichtner (trust me, you know him) does a great job as a creepy sex-addict District Attorney ("Sex Robots" is one of the funniest lines in the film). The real glue here is Carell and Fey. Without those two, it's just a run of the mill mistaken identity film. For their outstanding work, Date Night gets an 8 out of 10 (or a "goooood" on the Butts Film Scale, hereafter referred to as the BFS).
Coming Soon:
A "Summer Movies That I Give A Shit About" preview, as I run down the flicks that have made my Summer "to see" list, including my expected grades. Also this weekend "Kick Ass" comes out, a comic book flick that I am very pumped to see. If you believe Mark Millar (and I do), it may be quite the sleeper hit. We'll see...
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Yay Movies: Clash of the Titans
Ahhhhh the beginning of the Summer movie season. In April. Oh well, who gives a shit. It's 70 degrees outside, and there are about 4 movies this month that I'm dying to see. Titans was one of them, and I suppose I should have just kept on waiting.
Clash of the Titans is a remake (or re-imagining, if you want to be picky) of the 1981 movie of the same name. The '81 flick was characterized by an average story with pitiful acting, combined with bad producing and horrible special effects. Naturally, it became a cult classic. This version has an average story with average acting combined with good producing and above average special effects. I'm guessing it will make $100 million.
The problem with Titans isn't that the movie isn't interesting, it's just your typical summer blockbuster movie, where the story is just there as an excuse to show you some sweet special effects. It starts with a fisherman who hauls up a coffin out of the water containing a dead woman, and a live baby. He naturally doesn't question how an infant could have survived living in an airtight box under the water (who would?). He just proceeds to raise the kid on his own. The kid grows up to be Perseus, played by Sam Worthington (he of the Avatar fame). He follows his adoptive father's path, helping him fish the seas for, uh, fish I suppose. You really never get to see, because as they are floating on the sea, they watch a bunch of soldiers toss a statue of Zeus off the side of the mountain. This pisses off a god (who we later find out to be Hades), who shows up and kills them all. Then for shits and giggles, he flips poor Perseus' pops boat, and they all sink to the bottom of the sea. Perseus lives, and is taken in by the remaining soldiers. This leads him into learning he is the son of Zeus and is a god and the only person who can stand up to the gods, who are total dicks and they want to wipe out a city, because they don't go to church enough (the people, not the gods).
And so on.
The whole story just goes flying by, and not a single character is developed or given a backstory beyond a footnote or a quick sentence. The thing that I've always loved about Greek and Roman mythology is that it has a rich and complex history with it's god and heroes. Everybody has a story, and they usually have ties to the rest of the pantheon of characters. In this movie, you never even get to know Perseus' pops name before he becomes the flair at the bottom of the gods' fish tank. The other main characters include the king's daughter Andromeda, who Perseus goes off to fight for, despite knowing her for approximately 4 seconds. The captain of the king's guard Draco (who's name I had to look up on IMDB because they never say it in the movie) played by the guy who cried blood in Casino Royale. Decent attention is paid to the 2 main gods in the show, probably because they had it written into their contracts. Zeus is played by Liam "Qui Gon" Neeson, and Hades is done by Ralph "Voldemort" Fiennes. The two are actually a bright spot in the acting department, as they ham it up to the point where it becomes fine art.
The action is pretty cool, but without any emotional attachment to any of the characters, it comes off somewhat hollow. The end of the movie shows the appearance of the great beast known as The Kraken. Hugely hyped up in the commercials, the Kraken lasts all of 30 seconds before it's dispatched by Perseus. Whoopeeee!
The fact that I've given this review more than 20 minutes of my life proves that I could totally be a screenwriter in Hollywood, because they couldn't have spent more than 15 writing Clash of the Titans. It's hard for me to give this movie anything higher than a 6.5 when the preview I saw for The Expendables before it was way better. Observe: (sorry about the Geico Commercial)
Clash of the Titans is a remake (or re-imagining, if you want to be picky) of the 1981 movie of the same name. The '81 flick was characterized by an average story with pitiful acting, combined with bad producing and horrible special effects. Naturally, it became a cult classic. This version has an average story with average acting combined with good producing and above average special effects. I'm guessing it will make $100 million.
The problem with Titans isn't that the movie isn't interesting, it's just your typical summer blockbuster movie, where the story is just there as an excuse to show you some sweet special effects. It starts with a fisherman who hauls up a coffin out of the water containing a dead woman, and a live baby. He naturally doesn't question how an infant could have survived living in an airtight box under the water (who would?). He just proceeds to raise the kid on his own. The kid grows up to be Perseus, played by Sam Worthington (he of the Avatar fame). He follows his adoptive father's path, helping him fish the seas for, uh, fish I suppose. You really never get to see, because as they are floating on the sea, they watch a bunch of soldiers toss a statue of Zeus off the side of the mountain. This pisses off a god (who we later find out to be Hades), who shows up and kills them all. Then for shits and giggles, he flips poor Perseus' pops boat, and they all sink to the bottom of the sea. Perseus lives, and is taken in by the remaining soldiers. This leads him into learning he is the son of Zeus and is a god and the only person who can stand up to the gods, who are total dicks and they want to wipe out a city, because they don't go to church enough (the people, not the gods).
And so on.
The whole story just goes flying by, and not a single character is developed or given a backstory beyond a footnote or a quick sentence. The thing that I've always loved about Greek and Roman mythology is that it has a rich and complex history with it's god and heroes. Everybody has a story, and they usually have ties to the rest of the pantheon of characters. In this movie, you never even get to know Perseus' pops name before he becomes the flair at the bottom of the gods' fish tank. The other main characters include the king's daughter Andromeda, who Perseus goes off to fight for, despite knowing her for approximately 4 seconds. The captain of the king's guard Draco (who's name I had to look up on IMDB because they never say it in the movie) played by the guy who cried blood in Casino Royale. Decent attention is paid to the 2 main gods in the show, probably because they had it written into their contracts. Zeus is played by Liam "Qui Gon" Neeson, and Hades is done by Ralph "Voldemort" Fiennes. The two are actually a bright spot in the acting department, as they ham it up to the point where it becomes fine art.
The action is pretty cool, but without any emotional attachment to any of the characters, it comes off somewhat hollow. The end of the movie shows the appearance of the great beast known as The Kraken. Hugely hyped up in the commercials, the Kraken lasts all of 30 seconds before it's dispatched by Perseus. Whoopeeee!
The fact that I've given this review more than 20 minutes of my life proves that I could totally be a screenwriter in Hollywood, because they couldn't have spent more than 15 writing Clash of the Titans. It's hard for me to give this movie anything higher than a 6.5 when the preview I saw for The Expendables before it was way better. Observe: (sorry about the Geico Commercial)
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Yay Movies: Repo Men
Ahhhh dystopian futures. Where would the movie industry (or the comic book industry for that matter) be without you? Some of the coolest movies out there have centered around the premise that the world of the future isn't quite all that it was advertised to be. It may look great on the surface, but just underneath lies the ugly truth.
Dystopian flicks usually feature a world that is quite similar to ours, but with one variation. In Blade Runner it was the fact that some humans were actually androids, but they could think and feel like us. In V for Vendetta, the fear and paranoia leads Britin to seal it's borders and become an insular empire. We all know the truth about The Matrix now, and hey, who cares what Soylant Green is as long as it tastes good? In Repo Men, the world is pretty much as it is now, except for the fact that modern medicine has advanced to the point where everything is replaceable. Got a bad kidney? Fuck waiting for some shmoe to die, just buy yourself a new one. Drink like an air traffic controller? New liver, coming up. These robotic medical miracles are produced by a company menacingly named The Union. Anybody out there can get whatever they need from The Union, as long as they have good enough credit. You see, these little robot organs run about $600,000 per. Of course, they can tailor make a payment plan, that fits your lifestyle. Just don't fall too far behind, because that's when the Repo Men show up.
Jude Law and Forrest Whitaker are the guys who have the unpopular job of being Repo Men. After falling behind on 3 months worth of payments, The Union is legally able to come and reclaim it's property. This usually involves Jude Law breaking into your house, knocking you out with a taser dart, and slicing the property back out of you. Jude and Forrest are the best at what they do. They've been friends since the 3rd grade, and now work together for The Union. Eventually Jude Law is sent to reclaim the heart of a reggae singer. This involves using shock paddles to stop the heart so the Repo Dude can snag it. The paddles backfire, and Jude Law wakes up in the hospital with a new Union ticker in his chest. What follows is fairly predictable, as Law falls behind on his payment after he decides he can't kill for his employers anymore. His boss, sneeringly played by Liev Schriber sics his best buddy on him.
The action in this flick is slightly above average, but the gore (people pulling out knees, sticking contraptions inside their bodies and scanning organs) is a higher caliber than anything in the latest Saw movie. Definitely not for the squeamish. Law and Whitaker do solid jobs playing their parts, but only Schriber seems to be having fun with it. Overall, the movie is enjoyable, but nothing special overall. The premise of a company owning your insides is intriguing, but it never goes any farther than being an excuse for Law and Whitaker to kick some ass and yank out body parts. The ending is a pretty solid swerve, but still doesn't elevate the movie to what it could have been.
I give it a 6.5 out of 10, and on the Butts "scale of good", it gets a "goood."
Side note: The Butts Scale of Good is a scale for judging movies based on how long you drag out the "o" in "good". A really excellent movie, like The Dark Knight would rate a "gooooooooood", while Handcock would rate a "good".
Dystopian flicks usually feature a world that is quite similar to ours, but with one variation. In Blade Runner it was the fact that some humans were actually androids, but they could think and feel like us. In V for Vendetta, the fear and paranoia leads Britin to seal it's borders and become an insular empire. We all know the truth about The Matrix now, and hey, who cares what Soylant Green is as long as it tastes good? In Repo Men, the world is pretty much as it is now, except for the fact that modern medicine has advanced to the point where everything is replaceable. Got a bad kidney? Fuck waiting for some shmoe to die, just buy yourself a new one. Drink like an air traffic controller? New liver, coming up. These robotic medical miracles are produced by a company menacingly named The Union. Anybody out there can get whatever they need from The Union, as long as they have good enough credit. You see, these little robot organs run about $600,000 per. Of course, they can tailor make a payment plan, that fits your lifestyle. Just don't fall too far behind, because that's when the Repo Men show up.
Jude Law and Forrest Whitaker are the guys who have the unpopular job of being Repo Men. After falling behind on 3 months worth of payments, The Union is legally able to come and reclaim it's property. This usually involves Jude Law breaking into your house, knocking you out with a taser dart, and slicing the property back out of you. Jude and Forrest are the best at what they do. They've been friends since the 3rd grade, and now work together for The Union. Eventually Jude Law is sent to reclaim the heart of a reggae singer. This involves using shock paddles to stop the heart so the Repo Dude can snag it. The paddles backfire, and Jude Law wakes up in the hospital with a new Union ticker in his chest. What follows is fairly predictable, as Law falls behind on his payment after he decides he can't kill for his employers anymore. His boss, sneeringly played by Liev Schriber sics his best buddy on him.
The action in this flick is slightly above average, but the gore (people pulling out knees, sticking contraptions inside their bodies and scanning organs) is a higher caliber than anything in the latest Saw movie. Definitely not for the squeamish. Law and Whitaker do solid jobs playing their parts, but only Schriber seems to be having fun with it. Overall, the movie is enjoyable, but nothing special overall. The premise of a company owning your insides is intriguing, but it never goes any farther than being an excuse for Law and Whitaker to kick some ass and yank out body parts. The ending is a pretty solid swerve, but still doesn't elevate the movie to what it could have been.
I give it a 6.5 out of 10, and on the Butts "scale of good", it gets a "goood."
Side note: The Butts Scale of Good is a scale for judging movies based on how long you drag out the "o" in "good". A really excellent movie, like The Dark Knight would rate a "gooooooooood", while Handcock would rate a "good".
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Yay Movies: Shutter Island
Welp, I've finally decided to do it. After some cajoling, and some deep consideration, I've decided to do what I should have been doing since the invention of blogs. I'm gonna do movie reviews.
This makes sense for me in more than one way. I absolutely love movies. I see a ton of them, usually in the theater. I usually have very strong opinions one way or another about the flicks that I've seen, and I have a thimbleful of writing ability (meaning I get where the period goes most of the time). I also cannot stand the way most critics write their reviews. Any time you start off your review with "I am not a fan of the science fiction genre" and then proceed to tear apart a SciFi flick, I usually want to pull my fucking hair out. If you're not a fan of the genre, then why the fuck would I care what you have to say about it?
With this "Movie Column" (and I'm using this term very loosely), I am only going to review movies that I have some type of interest in seeing, in the genres that I enjoy. In theory, I should be able to give an objective review untainted by my hate. Also, the only background I have in film is that I've seen thousands of them. Just a regular shmoe who enjoys to watch and talk about movies. I'm not some snobby shitbox who's just pissed his senior thesis paper on The Godfather at the Columbia School of Film only got a B- when it clearly deserved an A because Brando was obviously channeling the ghost of Charlie Chapman when he did the Favor scene because blah blah blah YOU SUCK, YOUR PAPER SUCKS, AND YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO FUCKING DIRECT TRAFFIC, LET ALONE A MOVIE. I have no grudges, I just dig movies.
Anyways, with that little intro out of the way it's time to get to the first flick: Shutter Island.
Shutter Island was adapted from the book by Dennis Lehane (who also wrote Mystic River, and Gone Baby Gone), and directed by Martin Scorsese. It follows the story of a US Marshall named Teddy Daniels who is sent to Shutter Island (a mental institution for the violently insane) with his partner Chuck to investigate the disappearance of a female prisoner named Rachel Solando. Not everything is as it seems on Shutter Island, which is not a surprise, because the movie would only be about 5 minutes long if it were. Actually, that would kind of be refreshing in a movie (though probably not worth the price of admission).
Teddy: "well, everything seems to be in order here! I'm going home"
//roll credits.
What follows is a mix and mash of various plot threads including the death of Teddy's wife, and his time spent in WWII culminating in the liberation of the concentration camp at Dachau. Scorsese does his typical outstanding job of blending them together into a story that at it's worst keeps you interested, and at it's best actually kind of frightens you. The acting is solid, Leo DiCaprio doing his South Bahston accent just well enough to be believable. Ben Kingsly and Max von Sydow are awesome, and Mark Ruffalo is just kind of there. The best acting actually is done by Jackie Earle Hayley (he of the Rorschach fame) in a 3 minute scene deep in the bowels of the maximum security ward.
The movie checks in at just over 2:15 of running time, and while long, it's not to the point where you are sitting there checking your watch. I was pretty thoroughly engrossed, and only realized toward the end that the flick had been going on for about 2 hours. The only real beef I had with the movie was the score. Most movies like this use the background music to heighten the sense of tension during the scenes. A piano key here, a vibrato violin note there. It's finesse that usually works the best, creating a palpable wall of tension without you even knowing it. The score in Shutter Island blows through that wall like the Kool-Aid man. "Oh Yeaaaahhhh, this shit is TENSE!" the background music practically screams at you. There is a point at the beginning of the movie where Teddy and Chuck first get to the island where the music is actually distracting. There really isn't anything going on in the scene, just a wide shot of them driving to the entrance to the compound. They way the music was blaring however, you would think it was the beaches of Normandy.
That small gripe aside, I really enjoyed the movie. Good pacing, good acting, and a story that kept me on loose footing till the very end, Shutter Island is definitely a movie worth seeing. It also had me questioning my perception of reality in the same way "A Beautiful Mind" has done for some folks. Actually kind of scary if you think too hard about it. Please don't.
I give it 8.5/10
This makes sense for me in more than one way. I absolutely love movies. I see a ton of them, usually in the theater. I usually have very strong opinions one way or another about the flicks that I've seen, and I have a thimbleful of writing ability (meaning I get where the period goes most of the time). I also cannot stand the way most critics write their reviews. Any time you start off your review with "I am not a fan of the science fiction genre" and then proceed to tear apart a SciFi flick, I usually want to pull my fucking hair out. If you're not a fan of the genre, then why the fuck would I care what you have to say about it?
With this "Movie Column" (and I'm using this term very loosely), I am only going to review movies that I have some type of interest in seeing, in the genres that I enjoy. In theory, I should be able to give an objective review untainted by my hate. Also, the only background I have in film is that I've seen thousands of them. Just a regular shmoe who enjoys to watch and talk about movies. I'm not some snobby shitbox who's just pissed his senior thesis paper on The Godfather at the Columbia School of Film only got a B- when it clearly deserved an A because Brando was obviously channeling the ghost of Charlie Chapman when he did the Favor scene because blah blah blah YOU SUCK, YOUR PAPER SUCKS, AND YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO FUCKING DIRECT TRAFFIC, LET ALONE A MOVIE. I have no grudges, I just dig movies.
Anyways, with that little intro out of the way it's time to get to the first flick: Shutter Island.
Shutter Island was adapted from the book by Dennis Lehane (who also wrote Mystic River, and Gone Baby Gone), and directed by Martin Scorsese. It follows the story of a US Marshall named Teddy Daniels who is sent to Shutter Island (a mental institution for the violently insane) with his partner Chuck to investigate the disappearance of a female prisoner named Rachel Solando. Not everything is as it seems on Shutter Island, which is not a surprise, because the movie would only be about 5 minutes long if it were. Actually, that would kind of be refreshing in a movie (though probably not worth the price of admission).
Teddy: "well, everything seems to be in order here! I'm going home"
//roll credits.
What follows is a mix and mash of various plot threads including the death of Teddy's wife, and his time spent in WWII culminating in the liberation of the concentration camp at Dachau. Scorsese does his typical outstanding job of blending them together into a story that at it's worst keeps you interested, and at it's best actually kind of frightens you. The acting is solid, Leo DiCaprio doing his South Bahston accent just well enough to be believable. Ben Kingsly and Max von Sydow are awesome, and Mark Ruffalo is just kind of there. The best acting actually is done by Jackie Earle Hayley (he of the Rorschach fame) in a 3 minute scene deep in the bowels of the maximum security ward.
The movie checks in at just over 2:15 of running time, and while long, it's not to the point where you are sitting there checking your watch. I was pretty thoroughly engrossed, and only realized toward the end that the flick had been going on for about 2 hours. The only real beef I had with the movie was the score. Most movies like this use the background music to heighten the sense of tension during the scenes. A piano key here, a vibrato violin note there. It's finesse that usually works the best, creating a palpable wall of tension without you even knowing it. The score in Shutter Island blows through that wall like the Kool-Aid man. "Oh Yeaaaahhhh, this shit is TENSE!" the background music practically screams at you. There is a point at the beginning of the movie where Teddy and Chuck first get to the island where the music is actually distracting. There really isn't anything going on in the scene, just a wide shot of them driving to the entrance to the compound. They way the music was blaring however, you would think it was the beaches of Normandy.
That small gripe aside, I really enjoyed the movie. Good pacing, good acting, and a story that kept me on loose footing till the very end, Shutter Island is definitely a movie worth seeing. It also had me questioning my perception of reality in the same way "A Beautiful Mind" has done for some folks. Actually kind of scary if you think too hard about it. Please don't.
I give it 8.5/10
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Dots Pt. 3 (To Infinity And Beyond!)
Holeeeee Sheeeeit, I done checked out!
The day that I figured would never come has actually came and went. Last Monday I had my final check ride as a Stupid Trainee in the North Area of Chicago Center. It took about 60 minutes, and my knuckles were whiter than Tony LaRussa's at a highway sobriety checkpoint. Everything went well however, and when Alex the Supe unplugged and walked away, I really had no idea what to expect. I was kind of hoping that balloons would drop down from the ceiling and Randy Babbitt would run into the area to congratulate me, or (bare minimum) give me a high-five. None of this happened, however. The area stayed fairly quiet, and I sat on position at the Harly sector for about an hour and a half. Congratulations were received from folks, and I bought pizza for everybody in the area ($85 for 5 pizzas? What's in this shit, gold?) and worked the rest of the night. It was almost as if I'd been doing the job for a few years already...just another night. It was pretty damn surreal.
I realized that while I'd only been at ZAU for a about 15 months, my "journey" to get to the CPC point has lasted almost exactly 6 years. Six fucking years. You know who else works for six years then gets a job? Doctors. It's crazy to think back to when I was more of a worthless layabout than I am now. Working for my dad, making a decent living but not totally happy with where I was in life. I had considered ATC before, but it seemed like a pipe dream. It would mean more schooling, and after DePaul, NIU, and the University of Route 47 (AKA Waubonsee Community College) I was in no hurry to go back. Somewhere along the way I apparently changed my mind. I wish there was a defining moment when I realized that things needed to change. You know, one of those David Carusso "pull my sunglasses off while The Who blares in the background" moments. But no, I honestly can't remember what did it. I'm just going to assume it happened on the shitter, because that's where I do most of my thinkin. Anyways, after jumping through some hoops I was finally accepted into the University of North Dakota, which was recommended to me by Jim Lipsett (who works in the TMU). I packed my shit, and off I went. Little did I realize that I was going to North Dakota on the 6th of January, and winter in Chicago (while rough) doesn't hold a fucking candle to winter in ND. It's like the 3rd rim of Satan's asshole up there from essentially mid December to late March. It was quite a rude awakening. It was 2004 when I left the toasty confines of good ole IL. Now, on the tail end of 2009 I have finally achieved my goal.
There were quite a few times when it seemed like it was never going to happen. Waiting for my job offer letter from the FAA (which only took about 2 years longer than it should have...your tax dollars at work), the 4 months of misery in Oklahoma Shitty...finally getting here and wondering and doubting that you are cut out for this job. All of those things sucked, but the last part was there worst. There were quite a few times during my first few months of training when I would come home and wonder what the fuck I was doing in this line of work. I would make mistakes that a monkey with Down's Syndrome wouldn't make. Self esteem was at an all-time low. Thankfully, I stuck with it. The hardest part is convincing yourself that you can do the job, even when in your mind everyone in the room with you is thinking that you can't. I have a tendency to be harder on myself than anybody else could possibly be, and I'm pretty damn abusive. Somewhere along that path it finally kicked in that "hey! Maybe...just maybe...I might have what it takes!". Then a day later I would get my dick kicked in again...but this time instead of going home and punching the cat and my wife (then fiancee), I was able to shrug it off and come back with a clear mind. If I could give any trainee a piece of advice, it would be: prepare yourself. You are going to fuck up. A LOT. Keep fighting through it. Some days are just gonna suck, but everybody in that room has gone through it too (I have it on good authority Mike Duffey used to cry in the women's bathroom when he was in training). As long as you learn from it, you are growing as a controller and becoming less of an Idiot Trainee.
Also, Y51 is Viroqua Municipal Airport. Suck it, Porzel.
Even though I was the one fighting through the training every day, I sure as shit couldn't have done it alone. Therefore, before they start playing the "get the fuck off the stage, nobody cares" Oscar music, I'm gonna try and thank everyone who helped me survive (and occasionally flourish) this past 6 years. First and foremost I owe my parents. Literally. I owe them thousands of dollars, and they ain't getting it back any time soon. So thanks for that. Also, thanks to my ND crew. I would have never survived in that frozen hell-hole unless I had some of the best friends around (except for Jared. Fuck that guy). Thanks to Gary Knapp for making a few calls so I could work at ZAU instead of some podunk tower in southern Missouri. Posthumous thanks to Tom Kublebeck for giving me my remote pilot job with WCG. It was an amazing help, and you are missed. Thanks to all the instructors at WCG (even Doc Collins), and to Jenna, Landon, and Matt Waid. Special thanks to all the poor bastards that had to train me (Dave Jordan, Tim Kiefer, Terry South, and Tony Bonic), and all of those that either filled in from time to time (John Klatt, Joe Rand, Shicky, Jim Baker, Swanny, Ramz) or trained me from a distance (Duffey, Porzel). Thanks to everyone else in the area. I love my job, and most of the people that I work with are the shit. Thanks to Jeff Richards for reminding me repeatedly not to get a DUI. Thanks to Chris Evans for putting up with (and granting) my millions of shift change requests just so I could have a normal-ish life for a bit longer. I know I still have a shit-ton to learn about the job, but you guys gave me the right start.
Finally, thanks to Bri for sticking with me this entire time. I really would have melted down if you weren't here. It's corny, but you really were my rock during these past few years. I owe you big time. But hey, I'll pay you back by supporting your ass financially while you learn to teach the "special folks". We can call it even.
If I forgot anybody, I'm either truly sorry or it was completely intentional. Your pick.
I'll leave you with a joke I just came up with:
Question: How many trainees does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Answer: F@*k you, I'm checked out.
The day that I figured would never come has actually came and went. Last Monday I had my final check ride as a Stupid Trainee in the North Area of Chicago Center. It took about 60 minutes, and my knuckles were whiter than Tony LaRussa's at a highway sobriety checkpoint. Everything went well however, and when Alex the Supe unplugged and walked away, I really had no idea what to expect. I was kind of hoping that balloons would drop down from the ceiling and Randy Babbitt would run into the area to congratulate me, or (bare minimum) give me a high-five. None of this happened, however. The area stayed fairly quiet, and I sat on position at the Harly sector for about an hour and a half. Congratulations were received from folks, and I bought pizza for everybody in the area ($85 for 5 pizzas? What's in this shit, gold?) and worked the rest of the night. It was almost as if I'd been doing the job for a few years already...just another night. It was pretty damn surreal.
I realized that while I'd only been at ZAU for a about 15 months, my "journey" to get to the CPC point has lasted almost exactly 6 years. Six fucking years. You know who else works for six years then gets a job? Doctors. It's crazy to think back to when I was more of a worthless layabout than I am now. Working for my dad, making a decent living but not totally happy with where I was in life. I had considered ATC before, but it seemed like a pipe dream. It would mean more schooling, and after DePaul, NIU, and the University of Route 47 (AKA Waubonsee Community College) I was in no hurry to go back. Somewhere along the way I apparently changed my mind. I wish there was a defining moment when I realized that things needed to change. You know, one of those David Carusso "pull my sunglasses off while The Who blares in the background" moments. But no, I honestly can't remember what did it. I'm just going to assume it happened on the shitter, because that's where I do most of my thinkin. Anyways, after jumping through some hoops I was finally accepted into the University of North Dakota, which was recommended to me by Jim Lipsett (who works in the TMU). I packed my shit, and off I went. Little did I realize that I was going to North Dakota on the 6th of January, and winter in Chicago (while rough) doesn't hold a fucking candle to winter in ND. It's like the 3rd rim of Satan's asshole up there from essentially mid December to late March. It was quite a rude awakening. It was 2004 when I left the toasty confines of good ole IL. Now, on the tail end of 2009 I have finally achieved my goal.
There were quite a few times when it seemed like it was never going to happen. Waiting for my job offer letter from the FAA (which only took about 2 years longer than it should have...your tax dollars at work), the 4 months of misery in Oklahoma Shitty...finally getting here and wondering and doubting that you are cut out for this job. All of those things sucked, but the last part was there worst. There were quite a few times during my first few months of training when I would come home and wonder what the fuck I was doing in this line of work. I would make mistakes that a monkey with Down's Syndrome wouldn't make. Self esteem was at an all-time low. Thankfully, I stuck with it. The hardest part is convincing yourself that you can do the job, even when in your mind everyone in the room with you is thinking that you can't. I have a tendency to be harder on myself than anybody else could possibly be, and I'm pretty damn abusive. Somewhere along that path it finally kicked in that "hey! Maybe...just maybe...I might have what it takes!". Then a day later I would get my dick kicked in again...but this time instead of going home and punching the cat and my wife (then fiancee), I was able to shrug it off and come back with a clear mind. If I could give any trainee a piece of advice, it would be: prepare yourself. You are going to fuck up. A LOT. Keep fighting through it. Some days are just gonna suck, but everybody in that room has gone through it too (I have it on good authority Mike Duffey used to cry in the women's bathroom when he was in training). As long as you learn from it, you are growing as a controller and becoming less of an Idiot Trainee.
Also, Y51 is Viroqua Municipal Airport. Suck it, Porzel.
Even though I was the one fighting through the training every day, I sure as shit couldn't have done it alone. Therefore, before they start playing the "get the fuck off the stage, nobody cares" Oscar music, I'm gonna try and thank everyone who helped me survive (and occasionally flourish) this past 6 years. First and foremost I owe my parents. Literally. I owe them thousands of dollars, and they ain't getting it back any time soon. So thanks for that. Also, thanks to my ND crew. I would have never survived in that frozen hell-hole unless I had some of the best friends around (except for Jared. Fuck that guy). Thanks to Gary Knapp for making a few calls so I could work at ZAU instead of some podunk tower in southern Missouri. Posthumous thanks to Tom Kublebeck for giving me my remote pilot job with WCG. It was an amazing help, and you are missed. Thanks to all the instructors at WCG (even Doc Collins), and to Jenna, Landon, and Matt Waid. Special thanks to all the poor bastards that had to train me (Dave Jordan, Tim Kiefer, Terry South, and Tony Bonic), and all of those that either filled in from time to time (John Klatt, Joe Rand, Shicky, Jim Baker, Swanny, Ramz) or trained me from a distance (Duffey, Porzel). Thanks to everyone else in the area. I love my job, and most of the people that I work with are the shit. Thanks to Jeff Richards for reminding me repeatedly not to get a DUI. Thanks to Chris Evans for putting up with (and granting) my millions of shift change requests just so I could have a normal-ish life for a bit longer. I know I still have a shit-ton to learn about the job, but you guys gave me the right start.
Finally, thanks to Bri for sticking with me this entire time. I really would have melted down if you weren't here. It's corny, but you really were my rock during these past few years. I owe you big time. But hey, I'll pay you back by supporting your ass financially while you learn to teach the "special folks". We can call it even.
If I forgot anybody, I'm either truly sorry or it was completely intentional. Your pick.
I'll leave you with a joke I just came up with:
Question: How many trainees does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Answer: F@*k you, I'm checked out.
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