Backbeat

Backbeat is the story of a tortured, sexed-out, sensitive painter named Stuart Sutcliffe (played by Stephen Dorff, 1994’s pre-emptive answer to the fem and pretty Robert Pattinson). He’s the infamous “fifth Beatle.” This is when the Beatles first are together. In Hamburg, they play in stripclubs and sleep with anything that moves. John Lennon (played by the real John Lennon’s total look-alike, and who subsequently played John in other movies, Ian Hart) is the leader and he takes a fancy to Stuart. When someone comments that Stuart isn’t a very good bass player and that he just stands there, John acknowledges this, but counters, “Yes, but it’s the WAY he stands.” And, that pretty much sums up Stuart’s totally sexy charisma.

So, The Beatles continue to play for pennies and they’re just not taking off. Then, Stuart and the boys meet Astrid Kirchherr (played by Sheryl Lee), a photographer who famously cuts their hair into the iconic moptop style. As much as I fell in love with Stuart, I was equally enamored of Astrid. In fact, in order to mimic Astrid, after I saw Backbeat I got my blonde hair cut into a short, 1960s mod crop (and proceeded to be mistaken for a boy for the better part of middle school).

Stuart falls for Astrid and they start a sweet affair, marred only by John’s attraction to Stuart and Astrid’s own on again/off again boyfriend, Klaus. Stu’s love of art and his admittance into art school ultimately lead him down a different path than the one traveled by The Beatles. The movie is good not only because of the cast of characters, but because it oozes style. It’s Hamburg. It’s the 1960s. It’s a bunch of boys from Liverpool. The pants are tight; the hair is cropped; people have dark rooms in their bathrooms; cigarettes are chic; drugs are rampant; and sex is expected. God, I’m salivating just thinking about it. The style is enough, but what is more is the music. Borrowing from the first perceptions of The Beatles, the soundtrack musicians all sort of derive from punk, and even include Dave Pirner from Soul Asylum and Dave Grohl from Nirvana. It’s raw and raunchy—kinda like the Beatles were before they got big.

Backbeat is not really at all a story of how Stuart comes this close to enormous fame and then backs out. He was a gifted painter who never intended on doing rock and roll forever. It was a gig for fun. But, that’s not to discount the beginning fame and struggles of the Beatles. Watching John watching Stuart, one cannot discount the possibility that John started and kept the Beatles going on the hope that Stuart would stay and play forever. Given Stuart’s sexy charm and talent, who could really blame John?

Long Live MY SO-CALLED LIFE!

My So-Called Life is the best show I’ve ever seen about a teenage girl. Claire Danes plays Angela Chase, a sophomore in high school who begins to examine her life, to look at high school through a real lens, to understand herself. In a manic-panic move, she dyes her hair Crimson Glow because her hair was holding her back, so says Rayanne Graf, her colorful friend. Angela quits Yearbook, explaining to the teacher that they work so hard to create this book. This yearbook ends up becoming such a lie because it doesn’t depict what REALLY happened. It’s what everyone thinks was SUPPOSED to happen. And, if you made a book about what REALLY happened, it would be a really disturbing book.

So, that all happened right in the first episode, and I was completely in love from the start. I mean, isn’t it clear…just from that revelation about a yearbook? This show is just really good. Every episode is nuanced with heartbreak that resonates. It’s the “Pimple” episode where Angela’s insecurities about her looks come out. It’s the “Boiler Room” episode where Jordan (played by the very dreamy Jared Leto) will only make out with Angela on the sly. But, at the end of the episode, when he walks with Angela down the hallway and takes her hand, you’re just so happy for her and you forgive him and you feel seen (right along with Angela) for the first time. (And, the Buffalo Tom song is perfect here.) It’s the “Our Town” episode. Rayanne gets the part in the play, and Angela isn’t speaking to her. But, at a rehearsal Angela must stand in for another actor and play opposite Rayanne. I swear I tear up every time I see that…Angela (a stage hand for Our Town) is crying for real when she must ask Rayanne (in script) “Were you happy?” And, Rayanne (in character) answers, “No.” That just gets me. It’s all so real and true and beautiful. I mean, there are just layers upon layers of good, honest moments.

I have the box set of the first season and when I watch it now, I can’t help but notice the story lines of the parents in a way I never did before. Jeez, marriage and long-term relationships are just really complicated. And, even when you love each other, it’s so easy to offend. And, it’s easy to cheat, and it’s easy to lose sight of your common path, and it’s easy to forget the reasons you even wanted to start this life together. But, that’s the thing about life (and MSCL). Life is messy and Angela doesn’t always do the most honest thing or behave correctly. She’s flawed, just like all of us. But, more than flawed, she’s introspective and constantly struggling to forgive herself those flaws while dissecting their very nature. More than anything else, this show displays in a real, raw way the experience of a teenage girl--an experience that does not usually get noticed with such respect and truth. Girls are complicated at every age, even when they are cynical and sensitive 15 year olds. They deserve to be truthfully portrayed, and My So-Called Life does that in the best way I've ever seen. Years ago, I heard the producer Marshall Herskowitz, talking on the NPR radio program Fresh Air. He thought it to be such a privilege to be able to give teenage girls a real voice when so often they are pocketed into stereotypes without much depth. Angela Chase is no such stereotype.

MSCL only lasted one season (1994). I’m sure some Lifers will convince themselves that MSCL was actually saved—as it was preserved—in this one perfect capsule. I disagree! I wanted Life after it got cancelled, and I’m still hungry for more. So good. So honest. So relevant to the inner workings of the human condition, in my humble opinion.

The Celebration (Festen)

If you tell someone the Celebration is your favorite movie and they have even an inkling of what the movie is about, they will think you are a disgusting human being. This happened to me about a month ago when I was rattling off my top movies: Mallrats, Terminator 2, lots of foreign films, the Celebration. The guy I was talking to nearly choked on his pad thai. But hey, at least its not Gummo.

The Celebration is about a patriarch's huge 60th birthday blowout. Set in Denmark's countryside (that's about as far as my geography knowledge will take me) the Celebration is a Dogme 95 film. You know Dogme 95. Dogme was an attempt by Danish filmmakers Lars von Trier, Thomas Vinterberg et al. to create a new way of making films, stripped of artifice and the bloated Hollywood post-production process. Some of the goals were: no special lighting, genre films, superficial action...the director must not be credited. The idea, which I have taken from an interview of Mr. von Trier himself, was to limit yourself so severely (like the Sweats challenge!) that you grasped onto something brilliant as you were falling. Mr. von Trier is known as being a great filmmaker and a huge asshole. Dancer in the Dark and Breaking the Waves were good, so heartbreakingly brilliant, don't get me wrong. But Mr. von Trier runs his mouth criticizing the United States when he hasn't even been here! Like any good liberal, I can criticize the U.S. all I want but once a European follows suit, I become a Palin "real American." With us or against Mr. von Trier, with us or against us.

Alright, for awhile it seemed like Dogme was a success, as Dogme film #1, The Celebration, was the Grand Jury Prize winner at the Cannes film festival. Dogme has lost a lot of its credence because its attempt to forego gimmicks was a gimmick in itself. A collective of avant garde filmmakers! 10 goals like the 10 commandments! Content and form horribly misaligned. Nontheless, the Celebration is a Dogme film and it will forever be pegged as Dogme #1.

The movie is really good. Not because of its Dogma-ness (well, maybe in part) but because the story is so tight and it unravels both quickly and with supreme patience. Helge, the patriarch, is celebrating his 60th birthday at the family run hotel.

Christian (Ulrich Thomsen) makes an opening speech, saying that Helge used to rape him and his twin sister as children. The upper crust guests are appalled but laugh it off in a masterful move of collective deception. Christian is thrown out and the door is slammed. The guests go back to eating and Christian walks right back in. Because they didn't lock the door. It's just such a good moment, comedic in the face of tragedy. Christian makes another speech, in this one he accuses his mother of walking in when his father was raping him.

Amidst the accusations the waiters bring out another course. It's kinda like the Discreet Charm of the Bourgeosie; there is death and absurdity amidst the fine china and silverware. Vinterberg mixes the weighty accusation of incest with scenes of drunken laughter and dancing. Up until 3/4 of the movie the viewer thinks that maybe it is all Christian's imagination. Maybe Helge can still be the upstanding family man that the party wants him to be. And the audience maybe wants it, too. He's built this hotel empire; everyone has really kind words to say about him. His wife is unimpeachably elegant and gorgeous. But everyone knows that is not true. Towards the end of the movie, Helene, Christian's sister reads a note left by Linda, Christian's twin who recently committed suicide. She writes that she had dreams Dad was molesting her again and that was why she was taking her life. It is here that the party's goodwill ends. Helge has scarred his children and killed his daughter.

The next day at breakfast (yes, this was a destination party and everyone is present at BREAKFAST THE NEXT DAY AFTER THAT DEBACLE). Helge has fallen. His son, the bumbling baby of the family, Michael, refuses to allow his children to eat near their grandfather. No longer in his tux, Helge looks like a shrunken man. His life is over.

It takes two hours but Helge finally gets what he deserves. The disdain and disgust of his family and friends. No gimmicks. Just justice.

Jean de Florette

Jean de Florette is a totally Frenchie movie. First off, it has the only French actor that every English speaker knows of—hello!..My Father the Hero, Green Card—Gerard Depardieu. Yes, we’ve all seen him in recent years in Us or People in one of the beach issues where they show celebrities with cellulite and guts. He looks like one of the worst—in a speedo on the French Riviera or Jamaica or something. And, we all excuse him because he’s European, but really, we’re all just grossed out by his puffed-up body. It’s like seeing Arnold Schwarzenegger on the beach in teeny bottoms. He is Austrian, but, come on! Any way, I digress.

In Jean de Florette, Gerard looks good—albeit with some meat on his bones—because it is 1986 and he isn’t all bloated from booze or food or coke. Jean (played by Gerard) and his family inherit an old house with land—the same land that the jealous neighbor wanted to buy. Jean’s farm flourishes and he begins to raise rabbits. That’s when the neighbor finds a way to shove Jean’s family off the farm.

So, the pace is kind of slow, but it’s deliberate. When the neighbor really starts his trouble, you’ll appreciate that rhythm because you’ll find yourself right there with Jean, suffering all the way. Of course, Jean has a daughter that makes it into the sequel, Manon (Manon des sources: Jean de Florette 2). She’s a teenager in Manon and you’ll love it because, in typical French whore-ishness, there is an obligatory scene where the pretty blonde is dancing naked, oblivious to the Peeping Tom. Yeah, it’s good.

Clear eyes. Full hearts. Can't lose.

(warning: To all three of our readers, it's gonna be long and rambly)

Sometimes you have to rise to meet life's challenges. Triathlons. Senior theses. Watching 6 consecutive episodes of Friday Night Lights on a Sunday night. As I write I am still streaming via Netflix so it might be 7. It's true that FNL is filled with cliches. Football as metaphor for life. High school "sophomores" with sick receding hairlines. The town slut who acts like she can f*** with the best of them but is really, just a marshmallow inside who wants to be loved. It gets worse. The golden boy star quarterback suffers a tackle that lands him in a wheelchair during THE FIRST GAME. The second string milquetoast QB (who loves Jackson Pollock and Bob Dylan) steps up and has "one hell of an arm."

But it's okay. Because of Taylor Kitsch. Just look to the left. He plays Tim Riggins "Riggs," a cuspy alcoholic defensive lineman (? I just made that up). He has the body of a Greek god and that face. God. Those cheekbones could cut through steel and he has a Edward Furlong anemic look in the eye area that gets me. every. time. And he's good. He's a good actor. But mostly he's a good handsome looking guy. He was a one time Abercrombie model. I know--you can cry and curse--I did. Okay, aside from his appearance, Kitsch has perfected that hard-breathing-I'm-about-to-cry-in-a-very-masculine-angry-way sort of acting. He heaves with the best of them.

And all cliches aside, FNL is really good. Set in backwater Dillon, Texas, FNL is about a town that eats, drinks and breathes football. It's filmed in a sort of muted way and it weaves elegantly through multiple story lines. Of course there's latent racism and overt sexism. Like, how come all the white kids have names like "Jason" and "Tim" and the two black characters are named "Voodoo" and "Smash"? I'm being serious. Maybe it's a sort of "only black folk are cool enough to carry off nicknames." I hope so.

And on another note, I've always envied what I term "the universally lovable young male." I feel like older men and young men have, or can have, an enviable bond. Curt words. Cursing. Respect. And also, it's fucked up that a movie/show can explore male relationships ad nauseum and still be marketed as a show about the human condition, whereas a movie about women is a chick flick. Yeah, that's right. I'm going on a long feminist rant now. See Manohla Dargis "Fuck them". Alright, done with that.

The actors are really good. Kyle Chandler, (from what I gather on IMDB, a B- character actor) does really good as Coach Taylor, a straight talking, honest, doe eyed man in his 40's. But it's a young 40's for all you ladies. Minka Kelly is adequate, a bit of a poor man's Penelope Cruz, but she plays her perfect virginesque role well. The breakout star is, of course, Kitsch but I've already written about him. I guess I could write more. Kitsch's Riggs is stoic. Few words. Long glances. Melting panties. Whoa, excuse me.

The storyline is tight and characters are fleshed out. Alright, I am now on my third slice of chocolate cake and the 7th episode of FNL. I'll be back with more FNL developments...

BOLERO by Maurice Ravel

I'm sure you've at least heard this piece. Torvill and Dean (the most famous ice dancers) won the 1984 Sarajevo Olympics with this song. The song is Bolero and it is amazing.

While away at school, I happened to come across the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra website and they were set to perform Bolero. It was during finals and no one was interested in going with me, so I went by myself. I remember running into my friend, Jeff, on campus. I was all dressed up, even wearing heels to walk around SF. I only had my clutch and an umbrella with me. He was like, Where are you going? To the symphony, I said. During finals? Yes. And, it was totally worth it.

I was the youngest person there by 50 years. The tickets were pretty cheap because it was a matinee. I had never been to the symphony before, and I really did not know what to expect. They played, I think, four songs total. Bolero came after the intermission. Bolero is about 20 minutes long. It starts out quiet, a whisper. And, then it builds and builds and builds until you can actually feel the instruments pulsate through your body. It really is like sex. The whole song takes its time, priming you, readying you, steadying you, rocking you until the triumphant climax. My body swayed to it and I was on the edge of my seat, wanting to embrace the whole orchestra.

I got a cup of coffee after, and walked back to the train by myself. I couldn't stop thinking about Bolero. I was kind of sad after. It was all done, and I knew that even though I ended up buying a Maurice Ravel cd, listening to it on a stereo would not be the same as in person. Sometimes, I do listen to it on my computer or something. If you see me sitting in the library with head phones on, and suddenly I'm all hot and bothered, you can figure out what's going on.

Grey Gardens

I'm not really in love or even in like with Drew Barrymore. But, she managed to transform herself and she changed my mind in Grey Gardens. Drew plays Little Edie and Jessica Lange plays her mother, Big Edie. The movie spans a time frame from the 1930s until the present. And, let me tell you, the aging make-up is really well done. Drew, especially, is really transformed. But, it's not only the make-up. I've never seen the real Little Edie, but I would like to. If she is anything like Drew's rendition (and word on the street is that she is), then she is a total character, dancing all the time and telling a whopper of a lie whenever she can.

The women are Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy's relatives and that is really why they get any attention at all. Two documentary filmmakers befriend them and work on their movie. So, we see the documentary being shot. (The real documentary is available to view.) And, we see the two Edies--especially Little Edie--react to their camera. The mother is over the top and fun and that eccentricity has rubbed off on Little Edie. She is a dancer and a performer and lives to be "on."

What do you do with a caricature of a mother who loves you very much and nurtures you and encourages you to stay in her own crazy world and life? Well, Little Edie stays for a long time. The mother and daughter eventually live in squalor as their trust fund dwindles and their balance of real and imagined becomes more off-kilter.

Grey Gardens is not so much of a downer as it is kind of funny and charming. The Edies are so alive, so camera-ready, and so poised to make their mark that their housing conditions seem like only an after thought. I guess Little Edie is living in Florida now. If she's still doing a cabaret act, I would totally go see her.