Some puck stuff

Wow, it's been 15 whole days since I've posted here. Sorry about that. I only have one link right now, because I've been up since 9 a.m., and for anyone who knows me, they'll realize I was more than a little surprised that there are TWO nine o'clocks every day. Anyway, I lied, two links. Reason I'm up is to talk to Vermont coach Kevin Sneddon for an article I'm doing for
The New England Hockey Journal, so, please take a look at the site if you have any interest.

Sticking with hockey, I'm a day late, but it's articles like this one by Kevin Paul Dupont that have shaped me as a sportswriter, and make me want to take his job someday (no rush, Kev.) Just to show how prescient (or powerful) Dupont is, the next day, Sully skated the hell out of his team, and tore into them at practice. He's even threatening TWO-A-DAYS if they don't start shaping up and playing up to their potential. For those of you who don't really follow hockey, two-a-days during the season is almost unheard of. But hey, whatever works, Sully.

Who wants to be the Red Sox GM?

TheoWithTrophy, originally uploaded by MertWindu.

Not this guy, that's for sure. Had an interesting conversation with a friend tonight, in which we teamed up for some great commentary on this. The highlight was this:

Nick: This is like the alternate, alternate ending to Fever Pitch. Where the Sox win the World Series, and then they go get swept out of the playoffs, and then they win like 76 games next year.

Me: Yeah, this is the total downer of an epilogue. Like when you find out Kevin Arnold's dad dies at like 54.

I think that accurately describes a lot of people's feelings on Theo's departure right now. I'd post links now, but I really don't have the energy to watch the Globe try to cover this story as if they a. hadn't already blown it by reporting that the two sides had a deal this afternoon, and b. Don't have a very shady relationship with the Red Sox, since the Globe OWNS part of the team, and more and more each day becomes an arm of the Sox PR wing it seems. Good on the Herald, staying on top of this story, and breaking some news, and showing the people of Boston why it needs to be a two-paper town.

My Hero

My Hero, originally uploaded by MertWindu.

A few years ago, I had the privilege of meeting two of my heroes in one building. At a UMass-BU hockey game, I got to meet Bobby Orr, and have him sign a program, and shake his hand. That was really nice. What trumped it, by a large margin, was when I walked over to the balcony that looked over the ice at Walter Brown Arena, and leaned over, put a hand on his shoulder, and told Travis Roy that he was my hero. That was far cooler. So I try to keep an eye out for any updates on him. I should have been paying more attention on Thursday, which was the 10-year anniversary of his injury, but I missed it. Either way, The Globe caught up with Travis for the anniversary. I'm trying to put this delicately, because I respect the idea the writer had. But I've got to say it. This story would have been 10 times better if it were either a Q and A, or just written by Travis himself. After you read it, go back, and pay special attention to the words that aren't in quotes. Are any of those writer's interjections necessary? It's unfortunate, obviously, that such a good idea would get ruined by the writer's inability to get out of his way. Nonetheless, I enjoyed hearing from Travis again. If the story interests you at all, I implore you to buy his book, "Eleven Seconds." It's gut-wrenching, inspiring, and it's true.

Also, Go UMass!

More on Elizabethtown

It's very frustrating for me to say the following. If you didn't like my review, if you didn't think it explained enough of the movie, or didn't delve deeply enough into how I felt, then read Moriarty's review on Ain't it Cool News, because he said everything I felt a hell of a lot better than I did. Especially at the end. Seriously, it's a good read.

Unbelievable

LeinartsLongestYard, originally uploaded by MertWindu.

It's not very often that big games match the hype that led up to them. Usually, they end up blowouts, or just plain ugly. Yesterday's game between Notre Dame and USC was different. Everyone knew this would be the marquee matchup of the day. Nobody knew that it would become the greatest game, in any sport, of the year, and perhaps this century. I'll be telling my grandkids about this game someday. Bill Plaschke has more.

Elizabethtown

Elizabethtown, originally uploaded by MertWindu.

Elizabethtown
Directed by Cameron Crowe
Starring Orlando Bloom, Kirsten Dunst, Susan Sarandon, and Judy Greer
123 minutes
Rated PG-13

There are two parts to Elizabethtown. There is the first movie, which stands as an average story about a man who is cast adrift by life, and finds a handhold in the places which seem the least likely, but make sense by the end. Then there is the second movie, a 20-minute short that put a smile on my face, and a better grade at the bottom of this review.

Drew Baylor (Bloom) is a designer at a shoe company whose resemblances to Nike are enough to make me want to just call it Nike in this review. We open the movie with Drew returning to the Nike home base, with a nervous, sullen look on his face. He passes his coworkers, who all have the look of prison inmates watching a man who is walking his last walk on death row. Though he tells them all that he's "fine," we know from Bloom's voice over that something terrible has happened. A shoe that Drew designed, which was upposed to be a revolutionary product that would launch notNike into stratospheres previously unheard of in the business world, is a complete and utter flop. Though we don't really know why (Ebert reports in his review of the movie that an original cut had a more fleshed-out storyline for the shoe), but from the brief glimpses of the devil ray-inspired shoe, we get enough of an idea of why it was a bust.

With his career in utter ruin, and his girlfriend Ellen (played by Esquire's newly-crowned Sexiest Woman Alive Jessica Biel) probably getting ready to end things, Drew takes to a suicidal course of action with such nonchalance that we're wondering just how far he'll get before the inevitable second thought. What actually stops Drew from killing himself via a darkly hilarious contraption is a phone call from his sister, letting him know that his father, Mitchell, has just died.

I try, whenever I think about music and movies, not to judge them based on a previous incarnation. But it's pretty tough to avoid mentioning Garden State here. Similar plotline, and even moreso, a very similar disposition on the part of the protagonist, at least at the start of the movie. I say this, because Drew's reaction to his sister's call is not one of shock or pain, but rather frustration that the trip he must make to Kentucky to collect his father's remains will delay his "dark date with destiny." It's more than a little reminiscent of Andrew Largeman's reaction to his father's phone call at the start of Garden State, and I think the director's of the two movies were trying to make the same point about their main characters.

Anyway, Drew flies to Kentucky, and as anyone who has set foot inside a movie theater in the last month knows, he meets a pretty, but very perky flight attendant, Claire (Dunst). She is insistent on meeting Drew, on striking up a conversation with him, and on giving him ultimately false directions from the Louisville (that's Loo-uh-vuhl) airport to Elizabethtown, where Mitchell was visiting with relatives at the time of his death. Claire is a "student of names," and can divine the personality of any person based on their first name. She has never met a nice Ellen, won't trust any Phils, and has never disliked a Mitchell she's ever met. She's quirky, got it?

For the sake of expediency, and also because I'm not trying to ruin the movie for you, let's skip ahead a little. Drew meets up with relatives, finds out the good and bad about each of them, and begins to open up a little. He also has a night-long phone conversation with Claire, which ends in a very real scene where they meet up to see the sunrise, but realize that they were better conversation partners on the phone. Never fear, we're not quite done with Claire. She helps Drew to find some beauty in the life he feels has become worthless because of his catastrophic failure.

Sarandon and Judy Greer, as Drew's mother and sister, are constant presences in the film, though they don't really have any impact until their final apperances, at a huge memorial service for Mitchell attended by friends and family. There, sister Heather is a complete blubbering mess, and mother Hollie is a beautiful, graceful tap dancer whose tribute to her late husband is heart-breaking and heart-mending. IF there is a moral to the first story, it is about the importance of love in life. Love of all kinds. It's a Cameron Crowe movie, so you're going to be able to taste the saccharine on some of the scenes, but it's worth it.

Then, there's the second movie. After the memorial service, Drew fulfills a promise to Claire to drive his way back home in Oregon (she explains why). She gives him the world's most elaborate map and travel guide, and we are in the car with him for a 20-minute journey across the country, where we can finally see what Crowe was driving at. It's a wonderful, happy ending, which would be expected in a movie like this. Look, Lloyd Dobler gets on the plane with Diane Court, William Miller gets a real interview with Russell Hammond, and Jerry Maguire comes home to tell Dorothy she completes him. We know how this one's going to end. How it gets there, though, is fun, a little unexpected, and far deeper than I ever hoped for.

It wouldn't be wholly inaccurate to call Crowe's writing in Elizabethtown a little heavy-handed at times. There are some real groaners in the script. Tame stuff like, "I'm impossible to forget, but I'm hard to remember," spoken by Claire, though it makes sense at the time for her character. But it's Cameron Crowe, so you kind of expect it, and in the world created in Elizabethtown, gritty, subtle dialogue would feel out of place. There are a lot of interesting messages to be had in Elizabethtown, and the most powerful ones come in a cross-country road trip taken by an interesting pair of people. It's a sweet, smart love story, and it's also a good journey movie. But I'll reiterate, the last 20 minutes, the road trip, are what make it a great flick. The movie needs the road trip, but the road trip doesn't need the rest of the movie. Enjoy.

Three stars.

Fear and Loathing behind the mask

ErstadEddings, originally uploaded by MertWindu.

Nearly every sports fan, from Bangor to Bakersfield, has been talking about Wednesday night's Angels-White Sox game, or more specifically, the finish to that game. I'll just say this quick, and then mention a few links: It doesn't matter whether or not the ball hit the dirt. All that matters is Doug Eddings' reaction and very, VERY adamant out call, and his lack of verbal confirmation to cement that call. Watching Eddings backtrack in last night's presser was pathetic almost to the point of sad, until I realized that so much of this debacle has to do with umpires and their ego, which they spin as merely the way they must conduct themselves to be fair.

In this Yahoo report, Eddings makes for the first time a reasonable comment on last night's circus, though he does so in such a way that makes it seem as though he's being humble and apologetic, when in reality, I'm betting someone from MLB got to him and pointed out how much of an idiot he was Wednesday night.

Dan Wetzel pretty accurately explains how just about everyone not wearing pinstripes or an umpire shirt feels about the call, while Ryne Sandberg takes the tack a lot of apologists have, blaming the play on Angels catcher Josh Paul. Look, Paul SHOULD have tagged Pierzynski, but didn't because he was so certain that the pitch reached his glove cleanly. So yeah, maybe he should have tagged pierzynski just to be sure, but to blame him for what happened would be like blaming the operators of the Titanic for selling boarding passes.

A History of Violence

A History of Violence
Directed by David Cronenberg
Starring Viggo Mortensen, Maria Bello, and Ed Harris
Rated R
Running Time: 96 minutes

As with any movie made with a modicum of intelligence, there is a plot to Cronenberg's "A History of Violence," and then there is its meaning, what the movie is about. The plot revolves around the lives of five people: All-American father and husband Tom Stall (Mortensen), his wife (Bello), mobster Carl Fogarty (Harris), and two apparent low-level mobsters on a cross-country journey. The film opens with an initial, horrifying act that sets our minds not only about the two killers, but also about the tone of the film, which lingers throughout every scene. From there, we meet Stall, who owns a diner in the middle of an affluent Indiana suburb. It's the typical townie diner, with glass-encased pies, white ceramic coffee mugs, and a bar where the regulars sit and shoot the bull.

It also closes early in the evening. On the opening night of the film, the two mobsters enter Stall's diner just as the staff is closing up shop. Tired from the road, and cold to begin with, they demand service, and after getting particularly nasty, they get Stall to relent and serve them. It's far from over, though, because the pair are killers, after all. They attack a waitress, and become more threatening by the second. Finally, Stall reacts, and his life changes. After he swiftly and professionally eliminates the mobster's threat, the local media takes notice of his story, and plays it up as a "real American hero" angle (WARNING: MEDIA AS ENEMY ALERT! MEDIA AS ENEMY ALERT!). Stall is a humble man, and doesn't like the attention. The rest of the movie shows us whether or not there may have been another reason he shied away.

Here is where Harris comes in. Playing an unbelievably un-Ed Harris character, though we see some echoes of Parcher from A Beautiful Mind early on, he is disturbing and magnetic as scarred, weathered Carl Fogarty (that's Fogarty
like a low-lying cloud, not Fogarty like the former lead singer of Creedence Clearwater Revival). He arrives, with lackeys in tow, because he swears that he recognizes Stall's face on the television reports as the face of disappeared mobster Joey Cusack. Despite Stall's denials, Fogarty stays on the trail, and begins to terrorize Stall and his family. Throughout, we are kept in plenty of suspense about whether or not Stall really is Joey Cusack, which is one of the best parts of the film.

Now, here's what the movie is about: What makes a good man good? Is it his devotion to his family, or to God, or to the community, or his work? Is it his honesty? His genuineness? How does that develop, and can it be rehabilitated, created, reformed? The audience's belief in that is the point upon which the film turns. Tom Stall has, from everything that we see, done everything right (more or less) in his life. He works hard, and honestly. He loves his wife and children. He respects others, treats them as human beings. So when Fogarty and his henchmen stroll into town, trying to paint Stall as a cold-hearted, evil man, we are faced with a choice as the audience and jury: is it possible that this straight-laced, hard-working man with a good family and a good life, is really all the creation of a criminal who needed to get away from trouble? If we can believe it, Stall is Joey Cusack. If we can't, Stall is still in a lot of trouble, made clear by Fogarty's threat. That it is such a hard decision to make is to the credit of Mortensen, who plays Stall perfectly, allowing no tip-off despite being a very inward, mysterious character.

Outside of Mortensen, there are some flaws, though I don't think they detract from the overall product too much. Maria Bello is poorly used as a wife who alternates between wet blanket and hyper-aggressive mama bear. There's no in between, and I feel like that's because of the writing, though I've never been a huge Bello fan. There are some leaps made in the plot, but I'm not sure they're actual faults, because I think Cronenberg (as in Se7en and his other works) wasn't as concerned with spinning a good yarn, as he was about putting something in front of the viewer to make him/her think and emote. The character of Jack Stall, Tom's son, is played well by Ashton Holmes (who decided to make "Ashton" a good baby's name in the mid-eighties? Seriously?), but his subplot is a little cliche. However, it does bring a little strength to the story, as we see Jack evolve from a whimpering, wise-cracking weakling into a vengeance-extracting wild card after his father's incident.

I love the poster for this movie, shown above, and one of my favorite things about the film is that its tone matches that picture - spare, with an intense focus on the inner workings of the characters. Mortensen is again a big part of this, and we're hooked as much by what he doesn't say and do as what he does. This is a true masterwork for him, though I'm not sure it's not overshadowed by some of the film's drawbacks.

Three stars.

A dispatch from the far reaches of the Commonwealth

Hello.

It's been a very, very long time. Again.

But this time, I have a good reason. If you haven't been keeping up with Jim or Matt's blog, then you don't know that I just started working at the Berkshire Eagle in Pittsfield, Mass. Also, until about 12 hours before this post was written, I had no internet whatsoever. It was like a week without the web. Imagine that. Like going camping in a four-room apartment. Now, I have 24-hour internet, and enough cable to make me question the virtues of fresh air and sunlight (not to mention being social). So I'll be a little more frequent in my posting, I'd think. Anyway, check out the Eagle, it's a great paper, and even if you don't read my stuff, you'll get to hear stories of huge floods and - I'm absolutely NOT kidding - a controversy involving a gunfight with turkeys.

Tommy Dreamer

Nick Cafardo's writing might not have much to do with it, but his story on Tom Brady from Wednesday is still pretty cool to read. I'd be willing to bet that there'll be a bust of Tom Brady in Canton, and a statue of him in Foxborough. It's time to start building some shelf space for him next to Bird and Orr in the Boston Sports Pantheon.

Six days and counting...

On the SportsJournalists.com forum, an interesting question was raised. All reporters are taught from the beginning about the importance of objectivity. For sportswriters, it's pretty clear: you don't root for, or against, the teams you cover. This creates a certain psychological change for us, because while we get to spend our working hours observing sports, we're not to get attached the way fans do. So, we tend to get very blasé about exciting moments in sports, because they generally mean it's time for us to work. So someone on SJ started a thread, asking what still got the writers at the site excited? I mentioned a few events that made me legitimately fired up despite my need for objectivity, but I missed one, and it actually didn't occur to me until a scene in a subway station in "Flightplan," which I reviewed below. So, here goes.


It starts with the drive to Woodland station. Pay the 2.50 to park, and walk to the platform. It's getting dark earlier now, so by the time you're staring down the tracks toward Riverside in the distance, the sky is a painting in pastel. The jersey you decided to wear doesn't really keep you warm, but you don't care - the chill is part of the whole thing. The train comes, you throw your quarters in the little fishtank machine, and head for open space. There's usually a lot, so you can grab a seat or some good overhead rail space. The ride always takes a little longer than you remember, but the breath of the city surrounds you as you get closer, and the early-evening lights are the marquee heralding your arrival. The train stops at Haymarket, but not a whole lot of people are getting off or on now. After a few more minutes underground, the train emerges, and makes the slow curve over Causeway Street. The building glows in the night air, lit up like a movie screen by spotlights. You're there. Get off the train, the cold air in the city is different than it was at the station. It buzzes under your skin, it's sweet and sour to breathe, and it's always moving. Your nose, and then your cheeks, begin to ache just a little, but you can barely feel it past the adrenaline. Hawkers on the sidewalk want to sell you tickets, sausages, knock-off caps and T-shirts, or to give you salvation in a pamphlet. You pass them by, and head inside, bear right at the Commuter Rail for the long escalators that take you out of the regular world and up to the turnstiles. Down there, there are jobs to do and trains to catch, but up here, it is only the game. An old man with a bright blue blazer points his little laser at your ticket, it beeps once, and you're in.

Circle around the concourse until you get to your section, and walk down the short tunnel that opens into the biggest room you've ever seen, a black and gold ballroom with a brilliant white oval at the center of the floor. There is noise all around, from the PA system blaring rock music, from the ice where the cracks of sticks against pucks are the staccato drumbeat of the pregame warmup, and from everyone around you, who is chattering about the day, the world, and the game about to take place. Find your seat, and you're already on the edge of it. You won't leave the edge all night, except to get up for food or to cheer after a goal. Eventually, the last few skaters, right now mere mortals, trickle off the ice, and the lights go dim. For a few minutes, it's quiet, just another group of people in another big room. Then the pregame light/laser show starts, the introductions are made, and the stillness of the National Anthem washes over. Soon, 40 are reduced to 12, and the center is swarmed by large, rough men, ready to play the greatest game on Earth. The striped arbiter puts his left hand up, and with his right hand at his hip, he fires the disk down at to the ice. It has begun.


(THAT still gets me excited, EVERY time.)

Quick review of "Flightplan"

Flightplan
Rated PG-13 for Violence and intense situations
Directed by Robert Schwentke
Starring Jodie Foster, Peter Sarsgaard, and Sean Bean

"Flightplan" asks several questions to start off. The first is the tagline, "How could someone disappear into thin air?" Kyle (Foster) is a propulsion engineer for an aircraft manufacturer, and we join her the night before she and her daughter, Julia, are to get on a brand-new plane (which she helped design) to move to the United States. They are also escorting Kyle's dead husband back to Long Island. His casket is a constant, and ghostly character throughout. Once the flight gets airborne, Foster and her daughter move to the last few rows of the plane so that they can stretch out and sleep. When Kyle wakes up, Julia is gone. A frantic search of the plane returns nothing but more questions, because the crew discovers that Julia was never checked in for the flight, isn't on any passenger manifests, and was never seen by any crew or passengers. This is one of the spots where the movie succeeds in overcoming the horribly expository previews, because the idea that nobody noticed a little girl on a flight is plausible enough for us to stick with Kyle's assertion that her daughter WAS on the plane, but the mountains of evidence against her create enough doubt that we're just not really sure.

So the next question is, "could Kyle, a grieving wife, ALSO be a grieving mother of a child who died tragically, and now she can't accept the reality in which she's placed?" Again, the evidence is very pursuasive. The answer comes late in the movie, but the entire lead-up, which couldn't have lasted more than an hour (the flick clocks in at 93 minutes) feels like it takes forever, because you pretty much know everything if you saw any trailers. There's a whole lot of Jodie Foster looking nervous and scared, and a whole lot of Jodie Foster taking off running down the aisles of the plane (seriously, had to have been like a dozen of those scenes, sometimes for absolutely no reason). After about 45 minutes, we get it, she can't find her daughter. The crew doesn't believe her, and she's got a little bit of self-doubt as well. But not enough to not notice something that TOTALLY convinces her that Julia is alive, well, and on the plane. But there's still more running, still more confusion and red herrings. Finally, we get an answer to everything, and it's a tad more pedestrian than I was hoping for.

All in all, Flightplan is a passable suspense flick, and some of the questions raised are interesting enough to make you want to stick around. How strong is a mother's intuition? Strong enough to overcome overwhelming contrary evidence? Strong enough to create a fictional reality? That's the real puzzler, and fortunately we don't get the answers until right before everyone else does, in a reveal that was very slickly done, and (I thought) not too too obvious. Still, there was no new ground covered.

Part of the reason the suspense in Flightplan works is that we've all been on airplanes. We've all experienced the numbed senses, the heightened stress, and the microcosmical community in the fuselage. So we sit there, and we can feel how helpless you are as a passenger at times, how limited your space and options are. There's some good psychology here, but it gets nullified a bit by the flaws in the film. For instance, there's a brief Arab terrorist angle, which at first is handled quite well, but upon further review is just an extra 10 minutes of interplay that have nothing to do with the plot. The only way to possibly resolve the film's most glaring error* is to subscribe to the idea that the first 15 minutes of the movie are actually Kyle's dream -- but we're never really given any reason to believe that.

The finish is well-paced, and not too long (I was really nervous that the filmmakers were going to make me sit through a 20-minute chase on an airplane). It does leave a little to be desired, but I'm trying to keep this spoiler-free except for the note below, so I'm going to just leave it at that. Foster is good, if a little over the top, and Sarsgaard is once again excellent, and believable at every turn. Sean Bean is also very good as the captain (and maybe the only character in the entire film that we can trust). Overall, there's some interesting psycho-drama, moreso than I expected, but I'm not sure it makes up for some serious reaches in logic.

Rating: 2 1/2 stars (out of 4)












(*-SPOILER: The entire Arab angle is just insulting, but not for the reasons I expected. Actually, I thought the use of our own post-9/11 fears was a good sidebar to the plot. However, why in the HELL did we think we saw those two guys in the window across the way before Kyle and Julia left the apartment? That was just silly, and as I mentioned, the only way it could work is if Kyle was dreaming everything leading up to Julia's disappearance. But we shouldn't have to deduct something like that. Again, 10 minutes of action that didn't need to happen.)

The power of sports

Just one link for now. You might need a few tissues to get through this Associated Press piece on the promise Charlie Weis made to a young Notre Dame fan. Good stuff.

Welcome back

Well, now that Jim has once again brought attention to my blog, I thought I'd pop in and say hello. Don't have a whole lot to talk about right now, but I'll prepare something for early this week. If you know me, and you want to know about the Berkshire Eagle reference Jim made, get in touch with me (it's not too hard). I just don't want to broadcast any of it here. Moving along...

Wow, so at this point, you can pretty much sit down in front of the tube at 1 p.m. on Sunday, and not really get up to do anything for almost 10 straight hours. Football, football, and more football, as well as West Wing on NBC, Desperate Housewives (if you're into that sort of thing), and then Grey's Anatomy, which is a fantastic show that I hope doesn't get lost in the mix this season. Sheesh.

Brief, my-battery-is-about-to-die thoughts on the West Wing Season 7 premiere: Some interesting looks at the future to start the ep, and the best of those was definitely the CJ-Danny Concannon angle. That brought a fist pump from yours truly. Also, it seems obvious that Josh's announcement of the current president's arrival to Bartlet would mean that Josh's guy won the race, but I think there are a lot of ways that this might not be so. Either way, the math puts us right around late July/early August in the WW world, so hopefully we'll have the election and a new pres sometime around christmas, or at least in time for Feb. sweeps. Could be a very interesting race to watch, since Santos is, y'know, not a WASP or Irish Catholic, and Vinick isn't exactly your prototypical tax-cuttin' defense-spendin' welfare-hatin' Repub. I'm a little torn on whether I want the show to continue beyond this season, because I think Martin Sheen as president is so ingrained now, but I'm starting to think that Smits and Alda would both do a fine job as the head cheese. And you just KNOW that a Vinick presidency would include some Bartlet staffers in the White House.

As for Desperate Housewives, OK everyone, I've given the ladies of Wisteria Lane a shot, and they almost entirely disappointed me. Marcia Cross is fantastic, and I'd probably watch a show that was all about her, and Teri Hatcher is OK, but I just don't understand America's fascination with characters that have no moral fiber and no care for their fellow man/woman. That's why I'm perfectly fine with admitting that I watch Gilmore Girls. Esquire's latest issue will back me up on this one.

I had more, but it got erased. Probably just as well. I'll hopefully have some more for the blog this week. Thanks for stopping by.

Yes, I know, infrequent posting, blah blah blah. That should all change sometime in the next few weeks, when I move back to civilization and get a 24/7 wireless connection. Cripes, then I'll be posting as much as Matty. Ok, maybe not that much. Either way, sporadic stuff for now.

In a fit of absolute plagiaristic glee, I grabbed today's IMDB poll for this site, because I think it's pretty interesting (and you have to register at iMDB in order to vote over there, so here you can have your say, Household Income-questions-free.
Here it is:
Premiere magazine just released their list of the "Top 20 Most Overrated Movies of All Time" -- which of them is the most overrated?
2001: A Space Odyssey
A Beautiful Mind
American Beauty
An American in Paris
Chariots of Fire
Chicago
Clerks
Easy Rider
Fantasia
Field of Dreams
Forrest Gump
Gone with the Wind
Good Will Hunting
Jules & Jim
Moonstruck
Monster's Ball
Mystic River
Nashville
The Red Shoes
The Wizard of Oz
They're all overrated!

Share your thoughts in the comments section if you like. My vote was for Gone With the Wind, which I admittedly didn't see until I was forced to for an assignment in high school. Pretty shocked to find that "Titanic" wasn't on the list, but blame Premiere (and feel free to make your write-in votes here.)

I haven't read Moneyball

I said it. Now leave me alone. I'll get to it. I'm in the middle of "Da Vinci Code" right now, and my quest to catch up to all the ridiculously huge trends in pop culture is continuing past that. However, I have at least some kind of grasp on what's going on in the book, and the arguments for/against it.

I'm not so sure Joe Morgan does. This piece shows just how anti-Moneyball Morgan is, and also alludes rather forcefully to his inability to STFU and analyze the game. I love Jon Miller, and his voice is definitely a favorite sound of summer. But I don't watch much "Sunday Night Baseball" because of Morgan. Still, the writer of this article could have toned down his own cattiness a little and probably gotten the same quality story. Either way, worth a read if you're a baseball nut.

I was going to do a big link-bonanza for this, but I'm having trouble finding photos of any offending uniforms. Regardless, I think this is a good and bold move by the NCAA in spirit, though I also think that the blanket of "offensive nicknames" is a little too large. For instance, take the case at Quinnipiac University (nee College), where the administration decided, essentially on its own, that the Braves moniker was too offensive. This is, for the record, a school whose name is taken from Native American language.

So they had one of those goofy debates and votes for the new mascot, which turned out to be the Bobcat. Not a terrible selection, but also unoriginal, and unnecessary. In my 22 years of living, the following things have seemed to infuriate the Native American community: the Atlanta/Seminole chop and chant, the "Redskin" nickname, and Chief Wahoo and his ilk. Whereas I believe there is a great honor in naming your team the Warriors or the Braves, the Seminoles, or the Illini. It's a measure of respect, I feel, to use powerful symbolism from our neighbors' culture in our sporting garb.

Instead, we have this silly sense that any reference to Native American culture is offensive. The Providence College mascot is the Friar. Should we change it to avoid upsetting priests and christians in general? No, because it isn't an offensive term. If I had my way, I'd certainly eliminate some mascots and nicknames. "Indians?" gone. "Redskins?" Double gone, with an extra 15 yard penalty for excessive ignorance. Chief Wahoo, see ya. Tomahawk Chop, buh-bye, until a member of the Seminole tribe comes to Turner Field and Doak Campbell Stadium and teaches the crowds a real war chant to take your place. But one of my favorite nicknames, in ALL sports (and remember, I'm a fan of English soccer), is the Wamps of Braintree High in Massachusetts. Seriously, the "Wamps"? How great is that name? It's short for the Wampanoag Tribe, which inhabited parts of this area before my ancestors introduced them to the concept of relocation by force, AND it's an awesomely forceful word. It's so onomatopoeic, too. WAMP!

Either way, it's good to see the NCAA taking a stand, but this is like using a shotgun to make selections on the baseball all-star ballot. There are a lot of perfectly fine nicknames that will get the hatchet in a few years because of this.


1st ADD -- By the way, Jim just set up a ridiculously comprehensive Fantasy Football page, and I'd be remiss if I didn't mention it. You can reach it by going to his blog, which is Swine Lair, and is listed on the right side of THIS page. Go. Go now. And tell all your friends.

Pottermania

OK, I missed the boat, pretty much entirely, on the whole Harry Potter phenomenon. Never been a big fantasy reader anyway, and it all seemed a little too. kids-y for me. However, after seeing the movies, I may find myself lugging around one of the 5,000,000-page tomes someday. I promise you now, though, that I will never reach the level of obsession reached by this guy. Far be it from me to make fun of the dead, but this is just pathetic. Oh, and I'm absolutely burning in hell for it, but you have to love the last line in the story, the quote from the guy's friend. I won't spoil it for you, but don't feel bad about laughing out loud.

By the way, the story mentions what many already know about the newest Potter book: one of the more recognizable characters dies. But it doesn't say who (I know! I know!), so don't worry about ruining the surprise for yourself.

See ya, Jay

Holy crap, two posts in one day! I think, until I get a reliable internet connection at home, and am thus stuck with only posting from work or occasional visits back to civilization, that this blog will feature a lot of shorter, one-link posts, sometimes from the same day. This would be one of those times.

Jackpot Jay Lovinger says goodbye to his ESPN Page 2 readers. This brings the number of must-read columns on Page 2 down to ZERO for me. I haven't mentioned a lot of poker on here, because of several reasons. One, I'm not full-on into poker enough to research links about it. B, I really do enjoy poker, but I get very sick of the attention it's getting very rapidly, on TV, the internet, in newspapers, and from people who have no business talking about the game until they understand it. Thirdly, poker writing has its own lingo and rhythm, and I don't know that it really fits in on this blog. However, Jackpot Jay was always interesting to read, and realized that sometimes, stories about how he learned cards from his father are just as fun and just as telling as lingo- and technical detail-filled stories abotu good and bad hands. Poker (as a mainstream pop culture phenomenon) may not have jumped the shark, but I think we can all see the ramp somewhere up in the distance. Jay got out just in time.

The Knights of the Keyboard

To paraphrase a profoundly horrid song by Savage Garden, I knew I'd link this before I read it. David Ropeik, formerly a very good reporter for WCVB-TV in Boston (the ABC affiliate), takes a look at what it's like to cover the Boston Red Sox on a day-to-day basis. I generally think that the "how the press does its job" stories can be boring, but this one was pretty good, and it's about the Red Sox beat writers. So, as a hopeful future aspiring (sprinkle in a few more trepidatious adjectives) Sox/Bruins beat writer, I enjoyed reading this one. Here's the lede and nut graf, which say pretty much all I've ever wanted to say about being a reporter.

"Imagine attending every Red Sox game, home and away, for free. You have a front-row seat, and it's free. The airfare to the away games, and the nice hotels when you get there ... all paid for by your newspaper or television station. You get to be around the players, talk with manager Terry Francona every day, hang out in the dugout and the clubhouse. Sounds pretty good, huh?

"Now imagine that starting with spring training in February, and running into October if the Sox make the postseason, you are rarely home. You don't get to see your friends, your spouse, your kids, or sleep in your own bed very much. You work 12-hour days, sometimes 18- and 20-hour days, with no overtime. Some of the people you work with are friendly, but a lot of them are competitive and constantly looking to outdo you. Oh, and the players? Yeah, you get to be around them a lot. But many of them are kind of wary of being around you.

"Welcome to the life of a reporter covering the Boston Red Sox."

What did you do on Saturdays when you were 12?

Tom Hadfield was creating arguably the most comprehensive soccer site on the web. I personally dislike a lot of what ESPN does, both on TV and the web, but Soccernet is always reliable, and chock full of information on a sport for which the network seems to care only slightly. This story, written as part of the 10-year anniversary of Soccernet, traces the websites roots to a one-man-band of soccer knowledge in southern England.

The stars are out tonight...

Here's a few excellent reads

Red Sox profiles in Boston are tough, because except for recent acquisitions, Boston fans seem to already know everything about everyone on the team. Even kids who haven't made it to the majors yet are household names (Hello, Messrs. Garciaparra, Nixon, and Vaughn). So Gordon Edes had a pretty good challenge in trying to paint a picture of Sox Skipper Terry Francona that hadn't already been painted, re-painted, photographed, and made into a mass-market print. This story, though, is a fine look at how Francona manages a clubhouse like the one in Boston.

Bill Plaschke gets you about as close to The Royal and Ancient as you can be without buying a plane ticket.

Gold Cup Stuff:
Mike Biglin of the MetroWest Daily News has a good preview of Tuesday night's U.S. - Costa Rica CONCACAF Gold Cup match in Foxboro.
Also, John Powers looks at Landon Donovan's role in the future of the U.S. side, especially now that he's become a marked man for other squads' best clutchers.

Quick non-sports stuff

Just wanted to mention a link real quick, though I may have some more stuff later on.

Sally Ride said she heard "echoes" of the Challenger problems when she was on the Columbia Accident Investigation Board. As NASA prepares to go back into space, a shuttle mission that, for its parameters, would otherwise be ignored profusely by most of America is getting tons of publicity and attention, and will probably lead most newscasts over the next week or so. It's far too early to predict that this level of attention will continue for future shuttle missions (though I doubt it), but perhaps one of the small bits of benefit that have come out of the disaster in Feb. 2003 is that now people have at least a little interest in one of the country's finest and most important endeavors.

The space program has always been battling for front pages and government dollars, even when it reached out to goals we thought weren't possible. It will likely always have to fight this battle in a country more concerned with oil prices and red state/blue state skirmishes. However, as NASA tries to get back on its feet in a truly remarkable way - let's remember, there really is very little that is routine about shooting people into space - perhaps the resultant curiosity, whether it is highway rubbernecking or true, intelligent interest, will last a little longer, and honor some of the bravest and most ambitious people that the United States have ever produced. I'm certainly not insisting that we stay glued to our television sets for pre-arranged orbit corrective burns, the way we did for every step of the moon race in the late 1960s. But perhaps, with a little good timing, some quality marketing, and a very successful mission this week and next, we can finally begin to realize the true value of NASA and its admirable personnel.

Pucks, Baseball, and Bikes...

Just a few links I wanted to mention...

Kevin Paul Dupont had a pretty good story about the state of the NHL. I like how Dupont can put together a long story about a situation that has been marked by little other than stagnancy, and make it informative. I'll generally read anything KPD writes at this point.

Sticking with the Globe...
Jackie Mac's got a good piece on the plight of Keith Foulke, and really delves into how tough it is to be a Sox closer with quotes from Eck and Bob Stanley. Foulke's getting a bad rap, despite his idiotic statements from a few days ago, and I'm hoping he comes back after the injury to prove why he was so important to the 2004 championship team.

Predictably, the Austin American-Statesman has good in-depth coverage of the Tour de France. So, to help you get there, I'm linking to a fun (if silly) thing: Lance Armstrong's Bike, yes, his BIKE, is blogging about the Tour, answering questions and such. Enjoy.

London Calling...

I had hoped to return to work on this blog with something cheerful, an account or two of my best friend's wedding. But with the incidents in London that took place early Thursday morning, I can't really focus on anything that happy at the moment.

One link, for now.

Barry Lorge provides a gripping, insightful account of one tourist/reporter's experience just outside London as all hell broke loose.

The world is not fair, and the easy, common, and understandable reaction to this will be hatred. Not only for those responsible for the heartless, gutless killings in downtown London, but also for anyone who comes anywhere near such a person, whether it is in race, political leanings, or religious beliefs. However, hatred is precisely what the terrorists who commit such crimes are trying to incite, and to become irrationally infuriated only rewards the deeds of cowardice committed by such people. Here's hoping that we can find a way to gain better knowledge and acceptance of those around us, and perhaps one day give such radical extremists no reason to terrorize. God bless and save you, London, and may the whole world see a true testament to your courage, resilience, and splendor when you put on the greatest show on earth in 2012.

Alicia's Story

I wasn't sure how much I wanted to read Alicia Parlette's account of her battle with cancer in the San Francisco Chronicle. Cancer touches everyone's life at some point, it seems, and when my Mom - currently courageously taking on a brain tumor - linked the story to me, I didn't think I was ready for the real down-and-dirty of this terrible disease. Then I started reading. Alicia's account is honest, candid, witty, and eye-opening, and worth the time it takes to read it (It's in seven parts, and is apparently available as a paperback book on the SFGate site as well.) Enjoy.

Amazing things happen at all levels of sport

Stan Grossfeld may not be the Globe's best writer (my argument: Jackie Mac is the cream of the crop, although Bob Ryan might be better on his best day. He just doesn't have a lot of "best days" anymore.)
However, Grossfeld ALWAYS finds interesting stories. This one is about Alec Siefert, a Duxbury HS Hockey and Lacrosse player who beat the odds medical professionals gave him. Grossfeld writes the story ably, and if you don't find yourself inspired to do something you didn't think you could do after reading it, then try reading it again, and think of what it must have been like to be a kid on the edge of the real world, being told he might never walk again, let alone play his favorite sports.

Teaser review of "Cinderella Man"

So, I'm not quite ready to write my "Cinderella Man" review yet, and I think it's usually a good idea to take a day or two before I review anyway. So I'll just say that I liked this movie so much that I'm frustrated it doesn't have a chance at an Oscar, since the Academy certainly won't go for two boxing movies in consecutive years.

I will say this.
Bill Simmons and I have gone our seperate ways idealistically and culturally. I used to only read Simmons' pop-culture stuff, since I didn't give a rat's patoot about the NBA. Now, I can't deal with his non-sports thoughts. His review of "Cinderella Man" explains why. He totally missed the point, as he has on other movies, and if he can't make it relate to his beloved crap-ass 80's sitcoms and half-baked cinema comedies, it's no good. On Ron Howard's Movies: "He has been involved in a whopping seven movies that were cool ideas but left me feeling they should have been better – 'Backdraft,' 'Parenthood,' 'The Paper,' 'Apollo 13' (I thought this was long and pretentious), 'Ransom,' 'The Missing,' and 'EdTV' (a really funny idea that should have worked). But since he has a résumé of 80's comedies ("Night Shift," "Cocoon," "Splash" and "Gung Ho"), as well as an Oscar-winning masterpiece ("A Beautiful Mind")." Seriously, he just whittled Ron Howard's career down to this: The tremendous Backdraft, Apollo 13, and even Ransom sucked, but the likeable-but-severely-dated Michael Keaton Comedies were Howard's HIGH POINTS (oh, and he directed that Oscar Winner too). If he can't make a Karate Kid link, or nobody in the movie does something that rates high on his beloved "Unintentional Comedy Meter," it's not worth his time. One of Simmons' biggest complaints? That the cutting in the unbelievably visceral and brutal boxing scenes was too fast. Get over it, Bill, you're not supposed to be watching a boxing match, you're supposed to feel the frantic pace of a fight. That was Howard's decision. Cripes.

Things I appreciate

In the spirit of absolutely nothing whatsoever, I've decided to write this links-heavy entry with a theme: Things I appreciate, and things I don't appreciate.

I really do appreciate Paul Lukas' Uni Watch Column on ESPN, because I'm a bit of a dork about uniforms and stuff. I get all fired up when I hear someone talking about the "new-look Blue Jays" or whatever, and then terribly disappointed when I find out it's just a different roster. However, I don't appreciate an entire column on stirrups. Seriously, this guy needs some hobbies that don't involve hosiery.

I appreciate very much that W. Mark Felt has been identified as Deep Throat, and I appreciate Bob Woodward's account of how the former FBI Assistant Director and the legendary journalist became friends. I don't appreciate the Washington Post sending me a "News Alert" email (like the ones they sent on 9/11, when someone important dies, or when Felt was first identified) to point me to the column. Especially after Executive Editor Len Downie used a paragraph in his column (for which I cannot find a link) yesterday to advertise the piece. Look, Post, it sucks that you had to get scooped on this whole thing, but to turn it into nothing more than a banner to wave for your paper is ridiculous. People will want to read the Post this week because it's a good paper and because it's closest to the story, you don't have to send out a breaking news email every time a Post staffer writes the words "Deep Throat" or "Mark Felt" in an article.

I appreciate very much my Mach3 Razor, and although it scares me, I would probably appreciate the Mach3Power one too. Further, I appreciate the patience of a judge who is willing to sit through this madness and come up with a coherent decision, even if it rules against Gillette. Hey, Schick, give it up, you guys lost. Now stop trying to put more blades in your razors, before they start looking like props out of a low-budg horror movie!!

I also really, really, REAAAALLY appreciate my Scrubs Season 1 DVD. I've been howling with laughter for the last 48 hours, and haven't really watched any TV - in any free time I get, I'm watching one, two, or 10 straight episodes.
I DON'T appreciate that NBC is going to try it's damnedest to kill the show by moving it to Sundays next season.
I also don't appreciate the fact that "Ed," which is getting my attention every day at noon on TBS, has not come out on DVD yet. The SECOND AND THIRD SEASONS of that god-awful Nick and Jessica Simpson show are available on DVD, but not one of the smartest shows to fall victim to bad ratings in the last 5 years. What is the world coming to?

On a totally unrelated note, Bruce, who clearly taxed all of his cognitive ability in doing so, came up with six more names to add to the list of great young actresses that I came up with after my Natalie Portman heralding was challenged. I'm going to hold off on inserting these names, and instead, I'm giong to use this as a test balloon to see who else is reading. So, either comment on this site, or email me at andrew dot merritt at gmail dot com. For the record, I had considered a few of these names, but left them off for reasons I'll explain later.

Thora Birch (82)
Jena Malone (84)
Kate Bosworth (83)
Bryce Dallas Howard (81)
Ziyi Zhang/Zhang Ziyi (79)
Kirsten Dunst (82)


1st ADD -- Jim's favorite baseball player has a column on ESPN.com, and I wasn't necessarily going to link it - athletes tend to write on a 4th-grade level when they're given these "daily diary" things, usually all-positive, and really simplified - but Street's lead definitely hooked me:
"Every kid who has dreamed of being a baseball player has stood in his front yard with a bat and said to himself, 'Bottom of the ninth, Game 7 of the World Series, the bases are loaded,' and then envisioned hitting a home run to win the game. My job is to shatter that dream."
(I'll admit, I'm a bit of a Street fan too. First player from the 2004 draft to play in the majors, and just snatched the A's closer job from the dreadful Octavio Dotel.)

I say we just make every movie 3-D

Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban has a blog, and in the entry I've linked here, he devises a few strategies for movie theaters to staunch the slow bleed of their recent decline and start making a better profit again. Cuban has some interesting thoughts, although I don't think the DVD sales idea will ever work, for any number of reasons.

I'm not sure if Jackpot Jay just made me want to try the WSOP, or run screaming in the other direction. This guy's a lot of fun.

I probably ought to have more to say, but I'm trying to bang out a big ol' feature about one of the local lacrosse teams. Soon, though, soon.

Good to see our elected officials are focusing their efforts in the right place...

Here is a State Assemblyman who just doesn't get it. First of all, nobody goes to Continental Airlines Arena because they really, really love Satan. Well, unless it's Miroslav Satan (ba-dum). Secondly, it's the NHL!! Just don't bother! You want to get rid of something you dislike about the league, just leave them alone! No attention! Bettman, Goodenow, and all the millionaires on both sides are doing a FINE job of ensuring that your sensitive and virginal constituency won't be exposed to the evils of New Jersey hockey (by the way, let's focus on the Trap before we start worrying about the mascot, eh?)

Now, if you know me, you'd probably expect me to be angry about this, but I think it's one of the best things that could possibly happen right now. Nobody within the league or the NHLPA is taking this seriously. They haven't for more than a year now. Even more, nobody outside the league is taking it seriously, because there has been zero reason to believe that there will be a resolution. So let ESPN dump the TV option. Let the vendors and advertisers stop trying to get new contracts. Let the league die. It's time for real change, not the half-assed band-aid jobs we've been doing for more than 10 years now. Hockey will survive. How do I know? This is how I know. The best hockey player to exist since some kid named Gretzky picked up a stick couldn't win the Memorial Cup. It's a good thing, because hockey is not an individual sport. Never will be. That's probably why it never has worked in America the way the other major sports have. Same with soccer. So go Knights, keep working at it Sidney, and let's see if we can't have a real, good league in a few years.

Antonio Esfandiari is an idiot.

You can deride me for the comments I made below. You can even say that my ranking of young actresses is wrong, silly, or backwards. However, it is NOT the dumbest thing you have seen on the internet.

How do I know?

Because Antonio Esfandari is an idiot.

Now, the fact that the man's home page is "magicantonio.com" should be enough of a tip-off, but this page truly ranks among the highlights of narcissistic foolishness on the internet. You may suggest that creating a page which simply exists to broadcast a movie line ("you're the man now, dog", or Vader's No from Revenge of the Sith) is a waste of bandwidth, but at least there's an honest amount of amusement to be gained from its creation. However, Esfandiari and his pals have gone above and beyond the ridiculous. Enjoy.

(As an aside: Would someone please tell all the pro poker players who are becoming famous now that posing with chips or cards does NOT make them look cool? I don't know what it is, but for some reason, holding a pair of aces or flipping chips from one hand to another just looks dorky.)

Movie stuff:
Roger Ebert wrote an interesting review of "The Longest Yard," which I think pretty accurately describes how I feel about movies. For instance, I liked "Armageddon," because it quite aptly did its job, which wasn't to enrich my thoughts on science, or inspire me to seek out the philosophical nature of the Father-Daughter relationship. Instead, it was loud, angry, exciting, and over-the-top. So when someone says "Armageddon sucked," I sometimes feel like they missed the point.

That said, I just linked to something that I am absolutely sure has been seen by 2/3 of my confirmed readership, so what do I know?

1st ADD - I think I just became a Dartmouth Lacrosse fan.

Watch out, AFI

Let's get one thing straight: there was a reason that I wrote "(ducking)" after my proclamation that Natalie Portman is the finest actress of her generation. I wholeheartedly expected some disagreement there. And so, after spending far too many work hours preparing it, I've compiled a list of actresses who could be considered good, all of whom fall in what some might call Portman's "generation." Now, that's not easy, because the definition of "generation" isn't exactly finite. It isn't like one generation ends on one date and the next generation begins the day after. It's in flux. But, I think that for the purposes of this list, the years 1974-1987 work out fine. I thought about starting at 1975, but to do so would exclude two very talented actresses. So, here's the objective version of my list (year of birth in parentheses):
Hilary Swank (74)
Scarlett Johansson (84)
Natalie Portman (81)
Maggie Gyllenhaal (77)
Chloe Sevigny (74)
Sarah Polley (79)
Milla Jovovich (75)
Zooey Deschanel (80)
Rosario Dawson (79)
Michelle Rodriguez (78)
Shannyn Sossamon (79)
Reese Witherspoon (76)
Jessica Alba (81)
Evan Rachel Wood (87)
Keira Knightley (85)
Emmy Rossum (86)
Mena Suvari (79)
Katie Holmes (78)

If I'm voting with my heart, I still put Portman atop the list, in a horse race with Johansson and The Next Karate Kid. But I'll cede to the ribbing I've been taking over the last 48 hours and allow young Natalie to fall to No. 3. Still, watch out, because Free Zone could be decent, and V is for Vendetta could be fantastic. (The latter is the film for which NP shaved her head.)

Review: Star Wars Episode III - Revenge of the Sith

Because I'm a big cheater, I went and read a dozen or so reviews of ROTS before I wrote mine, and I'm going to steal a term from several of those reviews by calling the entire Star Wars saga a "flawed masterpiece." Two weeks ago, I may have omitted the second of those two words, like many people. However, just as crowds in 77, 80, and 83 drank the Star Wars Kool-Aid, I am, in 2005, sucking down the Star Wars Jello, with my black Nikes on and my purple blanket keeping me warm. (As an aside, if you don't get that reference, don't tell me. I don't want to feel that old.)

There was a promise made by George Lucas with Eps. IV-VI, that Star Wars would be one of the greatest stories ever told on film. That promise seemed lost when Lucas utilized the Gods of ILM to create a carnival atmosphere with The Phantom Menace, and even moreso when George's mediocre writing talents were exposed by a plot- and character-driven story in Attack of the Clones. It's been a week, and this formerly mild Star Wars geek has been transformed into a book-buyin', DVD Extra-watchin', lingo-spewin' superdork. The promise has been kept all along, but it took the oddly conclusive elements of ROTS to show us.

Let's be clear about one thing with "Sith." It is incredibly dark. That was expected, since we knew all along that this was the movie in which Anakin Skywalker would turn into Darth Vader, and nearly the entire roster of Jedi would be wiped out. (A note on spoilers: It's been a full week, and if you care enough not to know details of the movie going in, you should have seen it by now. Expect a spoiler here and there in this review.) However, the film manages to exceed all of those expectations, and rival "The Empire Strikes Back" in its cold, brutal reality. Put it this way: Jar Jar Binks has zero lines in this movie, and the most lighthearted scene of the entire 140 minutes is the opening sequence: a classically fun romp through space with two starfighters piloted by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Skywalker. This scene, thankfully, fits right in with all of the opening scenes of the Star Wars films. It's fast, it's expansive, it's charged with jaunty music, and it tells its own seperate story, a wonderful warmup to the rest of the film.

And the movie needs that warm-up, because it's absolutely full of action. We get full-scale war, space dogfighting, and some of the most amazing swordsmanship you'll ever see. Many reviewers have balked at the lightsaber battles of "Sith," mainly because there isn't anything innovative about them. To some extent, that's true. Yoda has already made his swashbuckling debut, we've seen the immortal Darth Maul's two-bladed saber, and in a subtle but important improvement, Lucas has relented and allowed his actors to swing their swords with one hand, (take a look at IV-VI; all two-handed maneuvers). However, the sabering is explosive in "Sith." Yoda battles with Darth Sidious through the dark Lord's chamber, and into the Galactic Senate, where the Senatorial pods become ammunition. In addition, or alongside the Yoda/Sidious battle, is the climactic duel between Obi-Wan and Anakin, which traverses a great distance and ends on the banks of a lava river.

Action is only the engine of the movie, though, unlike Eps. II, IV, and V. The mainline drama is the transformation of Anakin into the evil lord he was born to be. The whole of the movie is about his final bit of seduction with the dark side of The Force. Where Ep. I hardly touched upon this, and Ep. II only flirted with it, we're essentially force-fed Anakin as an evil person from the beginning. However, unlike his master, he is two-dimensional. He wears black for most of the movie, he says things that lead us to believe he is dissatisfied with the life of a Jedi, and he finds out that his wife is pregnant, a violation ofthe Jedi Order. However, he also acts mostly as a naive, well-meaning victim of an impossible situation.

It brings up one of many interesting questions in the movie, which Jim has already talked about on his blog. How far would you go for the one you love, even if those lengths meant turning into the thing you have been taught to hate? Despite his utter lack of ability writing-wise, Lucas has one of film's greatest minds for storytelling. Anakin ultimately turns into Darth Vader simply because he wants to save Padme's life, and it's pretty hard to blame him. Even through Hayden Christensen's improved but still-wooden acting, we can empathize with the young, cocky, confused man. Becoming a Jedi was a dream for him as a boy, but because of events beyond his control, he also fell in love - something Jedi can't do, essentially for the reasons that play out in this movie.

That is one of the reasons that "Sith" is so redemptively good. Until now, Anakin was just the headstrong boy in Ep. I, and the bratty teenager who wants a bigger allowance in Ep. II. Here, he has depth, emotion, and a full-on epic Greek tragedy to deal with. Until the last 15 minutes of the movie, we are still willing to believe that he is turning to the dark side only for the token of good that it would give him: an ability to create life, and thereby save the life of his bride, who he has dreamed will die in childbirth (and let's remember, his dreams presaged his mother's death in Ep. II. In the final act of the film, though, we see the severing of all ties to anything good that Anakin had left in him. The initial cut comes when he turns on Padme, and the cruel irony of her death is what ultimately cements his turn to the dark side. After the aforementioned battle with Obi-Wan, which leaves him limbless and irrevocably scarred, there is nowhere for Anakin to go but into the menacingly loving arms of his new master, in a scene that concludes with Padme's death on the birthing table and the first, eerie, timeless sound of Anakin breathing through the respirator of his shiny new Vader suit. It is here that all hope seems lost, that despair has gripped us, that the darkness of "Sith" reaches its peak.

There is, of course, a reason that Ep. IV is titled "A New Hope," and in a smart move by Lucas, that hope begins with the final scene of the movie, where we learn the final connection to the initial three installments of the saga. Although there's no reason to consider it a happy ending, the reinforcement of what good is to come is a perfect way to finish off the movie, and presumably the entire series (there are rumors, in which I believe at least partially, that Episodes VII-IX, which have always been talked about, will happen. Lucas has said no, but it wouldn't be the first time a filmmaker has gone back on his word about such a thing.)

As a whole, the movie is probably only "pretty good," but because it finally links us with the magic of the past, it takes on greater value and meaning. We now know why Vader has his allegiance to the Emperor, how a former Jedi like Anakin can turn so violently opposed to all the virtues of the Jedi religion. While audiences then and now needed no extra reason to be overjoyed when the Death Star was destroyed (both times), and no extra reason to root for Luke, Han, and Leia, we now have those reasons anyway, and they absolutely reinforce the strength of the overall work.

There are flaws, as I alluded to above. Most of them come with Lucas's inability to match his writing with his imagination and storytelling talent. This is most obvious in the scenes between Anakin and Padme. There are two in specific: the scene out on the balcony when Padme is brushing her hair, and the scene on Mustafar when Anakin loses his bloody mind. In both of these, there are lines so utterly elementary and lifeless that you're either angry for the distraction, or hopelessly laughing at their camp.

Anakin: "You are so beautiful."
Padme: "That's because I am so in love."
A: "No, it is because I am so in love with you!"

Seriously, that really happens. It's really a shame, because I think Christensen has gotten a bad rap -- see his performance in Life as a House. He's not going to be accused of being great anytime soon, but he's not as bad as he comes off in these movies. It's one of those things where an only-OK talent gets pretty awful material, and nothing good can come of it. To wit - Portman, who I consider the finest actress of her generation (ducking), struggles through this one, though less so than Ep. II. She still manages to deliver one of the most honest and inspiring performances, highlighted by her simple declaration in the Senate as Palpatine creates the Empire: "So this is how liberty dies. With thunderous applause." It's brutal how well she offers this line.

Beyond Portman, though, is Ian McDiarmid as Chancellor/Emperor Palpatine/Darth Sidious. Many reviewers have raved about McDiarmid, and rightfully so. He's just amazingly evil in this, and even as his character briefly turns into a cartoon after Mace Windu unsuccessfully tries to apprehend/kill him, he pulls off scary and deceptive with the best of 'em. And the utter deliciousness with which he delivers his lines is what vaults him - and his character - into the stratosphere of memorable roles. I'd be willing to bet that "The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be ... unnatural," will take up residence alongside "Luke, I am your father," and "That's no moon, it's a space station," et al in the pantheon of memorable Star Wars lines.

In all, "Sith" provides the answers to the questions we've had since 1977, while simultaenously asking enough new ones to make Eps. IV-VI newly intriguing. It looked for a very long time like Lucas might have fumbled the legacy of his crowning achievement, getting lost in the morass of digitially-created tomfoolery and overwrought plot development. However, with a deft, Jedi-like stroke of his imagination and ability, he has rescued this franchise, and vaulted it back into the lofty place it deserves.

Star Wars Episode III - Revenge of the Sith
Rated: PG-13 (scenes of violence, inferred murder of children, and graphic mutilation)
Running time: 140 mins.
Grade: A-

Just throwin' a little gas in 'er.

Hey folks, thought I'd pop in to explain a few things, and link a few others. First, you'll notice that the right side of the page has changed a bit. In other words, I've actually gone and deleted the Google News link, as well as the two useless links (sorry BlogSpot), and put a few permanent favorites in there instead. Besides, if you CAME here from Swine Lair, then you've seen how I have been guilted into doing something with my blog now that graduation is over and blah, blah, blah.

Jim's Swine Lair is about all sorts of things, and most of those things are things that I'm interested in (movies, TV, sports, poker, etc.), oh, and, "things," just to write it one more time.

Matty V's Good Reads is a splendid page full of good sportswriting from all over the country, as well as the occasional non-sports thing. I don't read enough good writing, so when I really start feeling guilty about that, I check Good Reads. Hah, put THAT at the top of your page, Matt!

One more, Rob's Captain Oblivious is a little different from the other two. It's half computer geek, half socio-political commentary. The former is way out of my universe, but the latter is tremendous. Rob puts to words every liberal's deepest, darkest thoughts.

Enjoy the links, I'll add more as I come up with them.

Oh, and another thing,
God has a blog, and it's tremendous.

Also, while strolling around the interweb, I caught this. How about instead of trying to bash it for being too explicit, we bash it for having the world's most obnoxious non-working celebrity as its subject? I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to find Paris attractive. I'm very sure I don't.

Revenge of the Sith review to appear above.

Episode I - The Phantom Review

OK, first real post, and I'm so jazzed about Star Wars, but if I start writing my review now, I'll have the world's stupidest reason for being on no sleep tomorrow. Instead, I'll paraphrase my thoughts into the following: WOW.

And then, mention a few reviews that I liked.
Ty Burr's Globe Review comes the closest to what I thought of the movie:
http://www.boston.com/movies/display?display=movie&id=6889

Ebert, of course, sets the gold standard:
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20050515/REVIEWS/50503002

Kevin Smith managed to write an understandable version of the fanboy angle, with OH MY GOD some freakin' spoilers. Seriously, don't even click on this if you want to remain in the dark:
http://viewaskew.com/news/sith/

Peter Travers had a negative review for Rolling Stone, which I think misses out on some important things, but I'll post it here just for balance's sake:
http://www.rollingstone.com/reviews/movie/_/id/6140458?pageid=rs.Home&pageregion=double1

My apologies if these links don't work, I'll figure out how to make them hot text links soon. Just wanted to put something on here so I didn't feel like I was neglecting this thing (which I am.)

Wilkommen

It was time for me to scrap every one of my old blogs, because they just never worked. Provided I ever manage to get internet set up in my apartment, I'll be posting here fairly regularly. Until then, I'll do the best I can with whatever time I can grab in front of a computer. Hoping to make this somewhat similar to Swine Lair, which is either from whence you came (if Jim wants to link me), or where you may go from here (since I'll definitely link him). As for the title of this here thing, I wanted something that would convey both my political leanings as well as the source of some of my thoughts. So, voila, enjoy the blog once I get it up and running, and keep your ear to the grindstone.