Remains of the Day

Ah, nostalgia

Fond memories from post-grade school afternoons and Saturday mornings spent watching television: Spider-Man: The 1967 Collection (with its classic theme song, yes, that one) and Wonder Woman - Season One (before Carrie Fisher in her Return of the Jedi slave girl outfit, and long before Buffy in short skirts, we had Lynda Carter in the Wonder Woman outfit, and it was good). We are entering the Golden Age of television on DVD.

Review: Bubba Ho-tep
Thank ya, thank ya very much

Bubba Ho-Tep is about a man in a nursing home who believes he's Elvis, battling a reincarnated Egyptian mummy who is sucking the life out of the King's fellow geriatrics. The Elvis impersonator (Or is he really The King? The movie lays out an amusing backstory) is played by Bruce Campbell, and his sidekick is another nursing home resident who believes he's JFK (Ossie Davis), dyed black and missing part of his brain that the government replaced with sand. It sounded like a movie that aspired from the start towards cult status, and that worried me. Cult movies shouldn't start life aspiring towards cult status.

But Don Coscarelli's adaptation of a Joe Lansdale short story is disarmingly amusing, with just enough funny lines of dialogue (delivered by Bruce Campbell with sincere Elvis feeling) and low-budget charm to overcome the occasional comic overreach. Its culinary analogue is the local taco stand: unpretentious but uninspiring, probably not all that good for you, spare in decor, but damn tasty while in the mouth.

Hot NBA prospect: Aloysius Snuffleupagus

• I took a glance at Sam Smith's mock NBA draft and recognized only about 8 out of the 29 names, and two of those were high schoolers.
• Get thee down to Kinko's for some more of those K signs - High school pitcher Joe Labek struck out 40 batters in a game, pitching the final 21 innings of a 24 inning game played over two days, one week apart. And he got saddled with the loss. It was the longest game in Illinois High School Association history. What the hell was his pitch count?
• In his new book, Johnny Miller states that he doesn't think Tiger Woods will break Jack Nicklaus's record of 18 Grand Slam wins.
Posted by eugene at 11:51 PM

Kind of Blue

As soon as I had purchased my plane ticket to Chicago, I made plans to jump online the first day Cubs tickets went on sale in March.

That first day of ticket sales, the Cubs set a MLB record for single day ticket sales. I made it out of the Internet waiting room just 3 times all day and managed to buy tickets to the Giants game last Wednesday and the Cardinals games Friday and Sunday.

Wednesday in the bleachers was a blast, even sans Sosa and Bonds. Mike and I went Friday afternoon and also enjoyed the game despite the Cubs loss 7-6. Maybe it was the four beers that just managed to kill off the brain cells containing memories of Sergio Mitre's horrible performance. Not only does he have lousy stuff, but he made several mental errors this game, including a wild pitch on a pitchout. The Cubs made it close on two Barrett homers and an Alou 3-run blast, but because of the 2:20 p.m. start time, when the ninth inning rolled around, Cardinals closer Isringhausen was pitching out of the sun to batters standing in the shade of the upper deck. With such poor visibility, the Cubs were helpless to rally.

Sunday's contest, the rubber game of the Cubs-Cards series, was the ESPN Sunday night game of the week. A few random observations from that game:

• ESPN suspended a remote-controlled camera on a cable that ran from the left field foul pole to the press box. It provided some unique angles for replays because it could not only pan along the cable but tilt to follow the baseball and action at the same time. NBC once used a similar remote controlled cable-camera for the NBA, though I haven't seen it in recent years. Here's hoping they use more such innovative cameras in the future, in all sports. These days, you can get better camera angles in a sports video game than on live television.


• I wore the Mark Prior jersey I received for Christmas to all the games, but I wasn't alone. Prior's jersey is the best-selling one in Wrigley, by a large margin.


• From my terrace reserved seats, I had a new perspective on the electronic ticker under the center field scoreboard, and I stand corrected on one thing. The Cubs do show races on that electronic scoreboard between some innings. The new electronic scoreboards along the first row of the upper deck in left and right fields are useful for something else besides pitch velocity: pitch counts.


• The Cubs have pretty much sold out their entire season already, and the attendance for the 3 Cardinals games was 39,298, 40,131, and 40,090. The standing-room only section behind our seats Sunday was packed.

Celebrity Cubs fan John Cusack sang the 7th inning stretch. Joannie and I cheered along with the rest of the fans in the terrace reserved seats down the left field line when John walked by on the catwalk behind the luxury boxes. Everyone also cheered for the young woman with him--who was that?

Clement pitched against Matt Morris. For some reason, Matt Morris's strikeout rate is way down this year, and his fastball velocity is also down. When you can't strike people out, and you don't walk them, they tend to put the ball in play. Aramis Ramirez did just that to one of those unimpressive fastballs in the first inning, hitting a line drive missile that might have killed some fan in the left field bleachers, or on Waveland Ave. That 3-run homer and a Barrett RBI double in the 1st were all the offense the Cubs got, and it proved just enough.

Pujols's second at-bat, after the first pitch, some fans started a chant of "Pujols sucks! Pujols sucks!" The very next pitch, Pujols clubbed a home run. As he crossed home plate, he put a finger to his lips to shush the crowd.

The Big Borowski came on in the 9th to shut down Pujols, Edmonds, and Rolen, whose wind-blown flyball stopped hearts all over the stadium until it fell into Patterson's glove just in front of the warning track.

While it's always satisfying to take two of three from the hated Cardinals, the Cubs have serious problems. Injuries have exposed the team's lack of depth. Sosa, Grudzielanek, Gonzalez, Remlinger (now Mercker), Prior, and Wood are all on the DL. The Cubs bench players have dubbed themselves the Lemons, an unfortunate name in its honesty. Ramon Martinez (OBP of .274, SLG of .260!), Jose Macias (OBP of .291), Tom Goodwin (OBP .227, SLG of .280), and Paul Bako (OBP of .313, SLG of .225), and Damian Jackson (OBP .222, SLG .267) couldn't crack a dish in a china shop with bats in each hand. With the exception of Todd Hollandsworth and Todd Walker, it's one of the weakest hitting benches in baseball, and both the Todd's have to start now anyway. Light-hitting shortstop Rey Ordonez waits in the wings. The horror.

The Cubs are a free-swinging team, with only Derek Lee and Sammy Sosa (among the season-opening starters) possessing on-base percentages over .350. That will lead to lots of feast or famine games, and indeed, the Cubs have hit a lot of home runs and been shut out six times this season already.

The Cubs pitching staff has been reduced to starting the aforementioned Mitre (often described as gritty, which is baseball speak for pitcher with lousy stuff), Glendon Rusch (cast off by the Brewers!), and soon, Jimmy Anderson (cast off by the Pirates!). The best pitching prospect with a chance to crack the majors, Angel Guzman, has just started pitching again after coming back from an arm injury that ended his season last year.

Meanwhile, Corey Patterson still swings at everything within ten feet of home plate. I'd like to see the Cubs trade Patterson and someone (Mitre and Francis Beltran?) for Carlos Beltran if they're in the pennant hunt in August. Depth isn't essential in the post season, but you can't make it to the post season over a 162-game schedule without it. I thought the Astros started the season with a slightly stronger 25 man roster, and the gap has widened. We need Prior, Wood, and Sosa back.

Gezundheit!

We were driving to dinner the other night and turned on NPR just in time to hear Bush butcher the words "Abu Ghraib" in his speech (this Windows Media File contains the correct pronunciation). I thought it was a joke at first, maybe a comedy sketch, and half expected to hear studio laughter.

Nope, it was genuine. That's our president. Then again, pronunciation never was his strong suit.

Obama

My sister Joannie and my brother-in-law Mike are working on the Barack Obama campaign. He's the political darling of the country right now, with recent profiles in The New Republic (registration required) and The New Yorker (online this week only). Obama is running for Senate against Republican candidate Jack Ryan.

Oddly, Ryan has assigned one of his worker bees, Justin Warfel, to follow Obama with a camera, filming his every movement. Not very sporting. Ryan was once married to Boston Public and Star Trek: Voyager actress Jeri Ryan, and he's gone to court to fight the media's request to unseal their 1999 divorce child custody papers. Ryan says there's nothing to hide and that he's seeking to protect the privacy of his nine year old son Alex. The media claims the public has a right to know more about Ryan since he's seeking public office.

First purchase for the new middle class? Meat

Interesting tidbits from a Wired magazine article on aquaculture:

World population is expected to grow 10 percent by the end of the decade, but demand for fish and other meat - beef, pork, and chicken - will rise 25 percent. What gives? Call it the curse of the emerging middle class. As consumers become wealthier, the first thing they may want is a TV - but the next is animal protein. "When disposable income increases, people tend to improve their diet," says Steve Blank, an agricultural economist at UC Davis. "They don't necessarily change volume, but meat is one thing they add."

The average American eats 56 pounds of meat annually. But US consumption is relatively flat; it's expected to grow just 5 percent by 2010. Less-developed countries will see bigger increases. In China, for example, consumption will rise 43 percent by 2010: The average citizen will consume 15 percent more fish, 36 percent more pork, 45 percent more beef, and 68 percent more poultry than in 1999. (Even then, per capita meat consumption in China will be half the US total.)

Open-ocean aquaculture may meet the growing demand for fish, but satisfying the desire for other animal products poses a bigger challenge. That's because fish rate especially high in what the industry calls feed conversion - the ratio of food an animal consumes to meat it produces. A pound of deep sea-raised salmon requires roughly 1 pound of fish and fish oil. Chickens take in 2 pounds of feed for 1 pound of flesh. Raising the beef for four Quarter Pounders requires at least 9 pounds of grain.

Unlike farming fish, the production of poultry, pork, and beef isn't likely to get much more efficient than it already is. But distribution is ripe for an overhaul; producers can make the most of their animals by selling various parts where they're more valued. On menus in China, for instance, cow stomach - not steak - is a delicacy. "Tenderloin stays in North America and Australia," says Dermot Hayes, professor of agribusiness at Iowa State University. "The tail, internal organs, and reproductive organs go over to China."

Chalk one up for global trade.

Mmmm, tripe.

The much publicized new studies endorsing low-carb weight-loss diets won't help with our global meat shortage.

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See Lance ride

Whatever you think of Nike products, you have to admit their commercials rock.

The first rule of Chinese traffic: there are no rules

Interesting article in Salon about a new school of traffic design that says to imitate the Chinese and let bikes, pedestrians, and automobiles share the road equally. Remove the traffic lights, road markings, street signs.

At first, I cringed at the suggestion. It seems that everytime I'm back in Taiwan I see the scattered remains of a motorcycle in the middle of an intersection at some point during the trip. The cab rides in Taiwan or Thailand are more terrifying than any NYC cab ride will ever be because drivers fly through single lane back streets through blind intersections without so much as a sideways glance. It's like some form of transportation roulette.

And there's Seattle. When I first moved there, I was shocked at how many four-way intersections have no stop signs or stoplights whatsoever. Right of way goes to the first car across.

But then again, I haven't witnessed any accidents at these blind intersections in Seattle in all my seven years there. And I felt safer cycling in China on roads with motorcycles, scooters, oxen, buses, cabs, and construction trucks than I do in downtown U.S. cities where cars feel they have the right to run down anyone in their path.

I think the attitude and beliefs of the automobile drivers are key. If they believe they have to share the road with pedestrians and cyclists, they'll drive that way. I've seen it in the respect drivers grant to cyclists in France, and the way Seattle drivers stop to let pedestrians cross the street around Green Lake. In NYC, on the other hand, drivers feel they own the road, and while pedestrians cross streets wherever or whenever they wish, it's at their own risk of being pancaked by a 3,500 lb cab.

The effectiveness of these varying schools of traffic design seem measurable. I'll find out very soon how well Chicago drivers treat cyclists.

Review: Shrek 2

I was in the minority in finding Shrek to be middling entertainment. The idea of spoofing fairy tales, giving them a modern makeover, replete with satire and irony, wasn't as original to me as it was to most.

Shrek 2 veers off the path of the fairy tale spoofs, which fall flat for me, and dabbles more in pop culture satire, which I enjoy. The movie plays like a longer, more child-safe episode of The Simpsons with more expensive and realistic animation. Though the humor doesn't cut quite as sharp as a Simpsons's episode,
Shrek 2 machine-guns jokes at the audience throughout, and enough of them hit their mark to leave me chuckling more often than not. The jokes that miss, like the dozens of commercial store and product name spoofs, don't get enough screen time to dampen the proceedings.

Antonio Banderas as Puss in Boots, hell, Antonio Banderas as himself, was a caricature waiting to happen. In fact, SNL's Chris Kattan already did it, and Antonio spoofed himself in the Desperado sequels. Banderas can make a living off this niche alone.

The high-tech animation does little for me. That's not what's entertaining about Shrek. It looks expensive and detailed, to be sure, but we've long since passed the point where that's original or awe-inspiring, and in a satire it's not really even appropriate.

The Simpsons, any Pixar movie, Shrek, and even to some extent The Sopranos are entertainment franchises with legs because they are not really about what they are about. They are malleable vessels for transporting pop culture references and jokes in a sugar-coated, easy-to-swallow gel cap form. Times change, you just update the jokes and use the same containers. And, in the case of Shrek and the Pixar movies, the animated format means adults can bring their kids.

And that broad demographic appeal is box office gold. It's no accident Shrek and Fiona are colored green.

FOOTNOTE: You can watch the first 5 minutes of Shrek 2 online, a rarely used marketing tactic.

More raves for the Koolhaas

The new Seattle Library by Koolhaas continues to get rave reviews. This virtual tour will have to do for me until I can get back to Seattle and visit it in person.

Now Seattle just has to rebuild every non descript building around it so the Koolhaas doesn't look out of place. The Seattle skyline still looks strange. You have one plain building after another, and then the Koolhaas, or something like Benaroya Hall, or a Gehry, just begging for visual attention. The skyline lacks the architectural balance or cohesion of the greatest skylines, like New York or Chicago.

Cubs win! Cubs win!

Mike, Joannie, Derek, and I caught the Cubs Giants game tonight from the left-center field bleachers. It's been ages since I was able to sit in the bleachers, and it's still a blast. Wrigley Field might be one of the few stadiums in baseball where the outfield seats are the most coveted seats in the ballpark (not coincidentally, it's the best section for ogling bikini-clad babes on a sunny day).

Wrigley has installed a few thin strips of electronic color scoreboards in the upper deck down both left and right field, and the thin electronic scoreboard below the massive manual scoreboard in center has also been upgraded to color. Neverthless, it remains to me the most old-fashioned and charming of baseball stadiums.

Contrast it with Safeco Field, one of the prototypical modern ballparks. Between innings at Wrigley, there are no crazy scoreboard games or promotions. After having been aurally assaulted at Sonics and Mariners games for several seasons now, it's refreshing to be able to just listen to the sounds of the ballpark between innings. When batters walk up to the plate at Wrigley, rap songs (or Creed, in the case of Bret Boone) do not blast out from speakers around the stadium. Wrigley does not sell $6.00 high-falutin microbrews. The view behind Wrigley's home plate is clean, devoid of any advertisements. For all the talk of distracted Wrigley fans focused on anything but the ballgame, the ballpark makes the game the focus of attention more than any stadium in MLB. It's also a ballpark that is fairly symmetrical and free of any gimmicky dimensions or features.

The tiny new electronic scoreboards are somewhat of a visual distraction, but they do offer pitch speeds which I enjoy watching if no other reason than it helps me to determine what pitch the pitcher threw to a batter.

The bleachers offer not just the most obnoxious and entertaining fans in the stadium but some of the best sightlines. We had a great view of the pitcher's pitches and of all the action.

It was Shawon Dunston baseball card today. That seemed strange until he showed up to sing the 7th Inning Stretch. Some old Cub fan revived the Shawon-O-Meter which stood at a sturdy .267. It's a sign of my age that I recall seeing Dunston's first MLB home run at Wrigley Field.

Unfortunately, Bonds and Sosa were both sitting and contemplating trips to the DL b/c of back injuries, Sosa's from some particularly violent sneezes. That reduced both offenses to starting punch-and-judy hitters like Jose Macias, Damian Jackson, and Ramon Martinez. Dusty Baker hit Macias and Jackson 1 and 2 in the order. Ugly.

Twice Corey Patterson threw his between-inning warm-up balls at us. Once he tossed it to Joannie and the guy in front of her snatched it away. The second time the ball hit Mike in the hands and he committed an error and let some other guy pick it off. Oh, the tragedy! I was standing next to Mike and if only my arms were longer I could have had it.

Zambrano was pitching for the Cubs. Before the game, he was 2nd in the NL in ERA. He's filthy, with a mid-90's heavy sinker and a nasty slider. He also seems to have learned to pitch more efficiently by letting batters put the ball in play. Through 7 innings he had thrown only 87 pitches.

He and Michael Tucker provided some solid entertainment. Tucker homered off of Zambrano in the 4th and apparently flipped his bat and said "How's that?" The next time Tucker batted in the 7th, Zambrano fanned him and then shouted "Get the hell out of here" while pumping his fist. Good stuff. In his next at-bat, Tucker got hit on the elbow by a 2-2 Latroy Hawkins fastball, causing Tucker to throw his bat angrily to the ground.

The Cubs won 4-3 in the 10th on a walk-off homer by Moises Alou. Jim Brower threw a fat change-up right down the middle and Alou tagged it. As soon as he hit it I knew it was gone. I don't care if Alou pees on his hands as long as he keeps hitting.

The Cubs offense is vulnerable when Sosa is out. Let's hope the Cubs can hang close to the Astros until Remlinger, Sosa, Prior, Wood, Gonzalez, and Grudzielanek return. It seems like half the team is hurt.

Dark chocolate Kit Kat bars

I'm not sure when the whole craze started, but Hershey's is issuing lots of limited edition candies. After a while, they get pulled of shelves, in some cases never to return (thus distinguishing them from the McRib, which seems to come every two years or so).

Some of these limited editions are gimmicks, like the black and white M&M's, but I strongly recommend that you try and get your hands on the new limited edition KitKat dark chocolate bar. I saw them at a gas station this past weekend when Bill and I were driving out to Tiger Mountain for some mountain biking, and I stashed one away as a post-ride reward. I only found it in my Camelbak today when unpacking my bike in Chicago. The dark chocolate limited edition is much better than the white chocolate version of which I also purchased one. The dark chocolate adds a certain je ne sais quoi. Oh, it's so naughty.

You can also stock away cases from sellers on eBay to tide you over once the limited edition sells out.

Are the limited edition Inside Out Reese's Peanut Butter Cups still out? Maybe I should snag a case off of eBay. I never did get my hands on those.

Reason 38: He's lazy

The 38th entry of McSweeney's Daily Reason to Dispatch Bush:

As of August, 2003 George W. Bush spent 27 percent of his presidency on vacation. This is the most vacation time that any modern US president has taken.

Jon Stewart's William and Mary commencement speech

"But here’s the good news. You fix this thing, you’re the next greatest generation, people...you’re not gonna have much trouble surpassing my generation. If you end up getting your picture taken next to a naked guy pile of enemy prisoners and don’t give the thumbs up you’ve outdid us.

...And the last thing I want to address is the idea that somehow this new generation is not as prepared for the sacrifice and the tenacity that will be needed in the difficult times ahead. I have not found this generation to be cynical or apathetic or selfish. They are as strong and as decent as any people that I have met. And I will say this, on my way down here I stopped at Bethesda Naval, and when you talk to the young kids that are there that have just been back from Iraq and Afghanistan, you don’t have the worry about the future that you hear from so many that are not a part of this generation but judging it from above.

And the other thing….that I will say is, when I spoke earlier about the world being broke, I was somewhat being facetious, because every generation has their challenge. And things change rapidly, and life gets better in an instant.

I was in New York on 9-11 when the towers came down. I lived 14 blocks from the twin towers. And when they came down, I thought that the world had ended. And I remember walking around in a daze for weeks. And Mayor Guiliani had said to the city, “You’ve got to get back to normal. We’ve got to show that things can change and get back to what they were.”

And one day I was coming out of my building, and on my stoop, was a man who was crouched over, and he appeared to be in deep thought. And as I got closer to him I realized, he was playing with himself. And that’s when I thought, “You know what, we’re gonna be OK.”

Transcript of the whole thing here. Pretty damn good, up there with Will Ferrell's Class Day speech at Harvard, the urban legend of a speech everyone wishes that Kurt Vonnegut delivered at MIT, and Conan O'Brien's Harvard Commencement Speech in 2000.

I wish my graduation speaker was witty and/or amusing. Frankly, I can't even remember who he was, and it's not because it was so long ago. I think it was the U.S. Secretary of Defense or something like that (Dick Cheney?). He was dull as hell and attracted a few rows of protetesters in one corner of the stadium. My friends and I spent the whole time playing commencement speech bingo and flipping Mah Joong characters we had drawn and pasted to the tops of our graduation caps. After several character flips, we formed the largest possible winning hand in Mah Joong on our caps at which point we stood up on our chairs and screamed as a salute to our parents in the crowd. I don't think the speaker was pleased.

UPDATE: Ken, who remembers more about my life than I do, reminds me that my Commencement speaker was then Sec'y of Defense William Perry.

The end of oil

Paul Roberts, in his new book The End of Oil, discussed by Salon, argues that Americans will continue driving our big SUVs and guzzling oil until a major oil shortage or some global warming catastrophe.

Just such a global-warming disaster is contemplated by next Friday's blockbuster movie The Day After Tomorrow, a movie which millions of Americans will drive to theaters in SUV's to watch. Poor New Yorkers, their city frozen over in a new ice age, when most of them don't even own cars.

Seattle Film Fest recos

For once, I actually know quite a few of the movies screening at SIFF this year. Unfortunately, I'm out of town for most of the festival and had to give away nearly all of my tickets. It's killing me! SIFF lacks in movie star wattage (as compared to Cannes or Sundance), and it's not an acquisition hotbed that premieres a ton of movies (as compared to Sundance or Toronto). But SIFF makes up for it in sheer quantity. It's a movie lover's movie fest, and I'm smarting at missing most of what is likely my last SIFF.

If I were around for it this year, I'd either recommend or want to see the following:

• The Twilight Samurai - I have the DVD but haven't watched it yet. Early reviews are quite positive. A samurai movie for the more thoughtful crowd that can't stomach the bloody violence of Kitano's Zatoichi (see below).


• The Saddest Music in the World - already out in theaters in some cities, so those who only try to see movies they can't see in theaters soon (or ever) might want to pass on the latest strange creation from Guy Maddin.


• Doppelganger - by SIFF favorite Kiyoshi Kurosawa and starring Japan's Robert De Niro Koji Yakusho. One of my favorite SIFF movies ever was Kurosawa's Cure.


• The Corporation - A documentary about that selfish, ruthless entity known as the corporation.


• Open Water - Based on a true story, and every scuba diver's worst nightmare. A tour boat leaves two divers behind in the middle of the ocean, and soon the sharks and barracudas begin circling. To film the movie, the director threw two rookie actors into the ocean and used bait to attract real sharks to circle them. Talk about method acting.


• The Girl on the Bridge - I wanted to catch this back when it was in theaters and have meant to watch it on DVD. Patrice Leconte is the featured director this year, so here's another chance to see this black and white love story on the big screen. A knife-thrower (Daniel Auteuil) who needs a partner finds her in the form of despairing beauty (Vanessa Paradis) whom he rescues just before she throws herself off a bridge. Why can't I ever meet hot babes on the brink of suicide?


• Primer - Won a Grand Jury prize at Sundance, but the word of mouth on this has been that it's incomprehensible. Still, the premise, about some guys who invent a time-travel machine, and the fact that this is Shane Carruth's directorial debut, shot on 16mm, is enough for me to give it a chance.


• Donnie Darko (The Director's Cut) - Many of you have probably already seen this cult classic, but my guess is this Director's Cut may not make it to DVD, so catch it while you can. Great soundtrack.


• A Tale of Two Sisters - Korean horror flick. Creepy Flash website. Is there any doubt Asia is the new capital of horror movies?


• Natural City - I haven't been all that impressed with Korean sci-fi movies of the last several years, but for some reason I've been forgiving enough to always see the next one.


• Cinematography Master Class with Christopher Doyle - long-time collaborator of Wong Kar-Wai, Doyle's cinematography is legend. His work on Hero and In the Mood for Love is just a sample of his brilliance. I'm going to this event, and I am jazzed beyond belief.


• The Blind Swordsman: Zatoichi - saw this on DVD. Didn't adore it since Kitano plays Zatoichi as almost completely devoid of humanity and humor, those aspects of his persona that made him such an interesting character in the past. Still, Kitano sees the character as I do, as patently absurd (a blind master swordsman, ronin, masseuse, master gambler all in one?!?) and finds a new and less reverent take on the character that is refreshing. Cartoonish violence: lots of digital blood spewing like geysers from wounds opened by Zatoichi's flashing sword.


• Infernal Affairs 1, 2, and 3 - Perhaps my favorite Hong Kong movie trilogy of all-time. Really, what other HK trilogy maintained its quality through all three chapters the way this one did? Excellent, though the back to back to back showings at Cinerama would rival the LOTR trilogy as a butt number. Still, that might be the best way to see them as the sheer number of characters and plot twists forced me to watch them each twice to remember all the characters and plot developments, especially as Andy Lau and Tony Leung's characters are played by other actors in the middle chapter. There's talk that Martin Scorsese wants to remake the trilogy with Leonardo Dicaprio, a serious endorsement in my book.


• Hero - I couldn't wait for this movie to come out back in2002: Zhang Yimou directing truly a Hall of Fame lineup (Tony Leung, Maggie Cheung, Jet Li, Zhang Ziyi). Perhaps my expectations were too high, and it underwhelmed me. But it's worth seeing on a big screen as some of the cinematography is gorgeous. I'm more excited about Yimou's next wuxia pic, House of Flying Daggers. starring Takeshi Kaneshire, Andy Lau, and hottie Zhang Ziyi.


• Before Sunrise/Before Sunset - The original is a classic, and the sequel arrives nine years later and is set, well, nine years after the original.


• Goodbye Dragon Inn - I enjoyed King Hu's original Dragon Inn and the remake, so it stands to reason I should see this homage. Ming Liang Tsai is one of the more interesting and cutting-edge directors working today. I don't always love his movies, but he's brave and daring.


• Riding Giants - Missed it at Sundance, will miss it at SIFF. Too bad, because who knows when Sony Classics will get around to putting it in theaters. This surfing documentary is by Stacey Peralta (Dogtown and Z-Boys) and stars insanely stoked surfers like Laird Hamilton.


• Garden State - Whoo-hoo, Natalie Portman is single again! If I were a first-time director, I'd definitely pull the "I'll star in the movie myself and cast some hottie to be my romantic interest." I missed this at Sundance, I'll miss it at SIFF. Someday I'll see it. Someday Natalie and I will be together.


• Undead - It's something of an annual tradition for me to attend the midnight horror movie showing at the Egyptian at SIFF. It might just be the most fun night of the fest, what with the rowdy fans screaming their lungs out until the wee hours of the morning in the acoustic nightmare that is the Egyptian. I don't even know what Undead is about (some Aussie zombie movie?) and I'd still see it just to be social. Bring that squeamish date you've been meaning to cuddle with.


• Criminal - Let's see what Soderbergh disciple and director of this movie Gregory Jacobs can whip up. I'm a sucker for con-game flicks.


• Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence - If I could see just one movie at SIFF this year, it would be this single screening at Cinerama.


• Sky Blue - Originally titled Wonderful Days, this movie set in the future combines miniatures, hand-drawn animation, and computer-generated animation. I know little about the story, but the visuals look gorgeous.

One thing you might note is that because Seattle doesn't premier a lot of movies, many of these are available on DVD already. Still, seeing a movie on a massive screen in the company of others just can't be beat, if you can stomach waiting in long lines with the occasional passhole (i.e., obnoxious SIFF all-series passholder who hasn't showered in seven days of sweaty sprinting from one theater to the next in an attempt to see as many movies as possible).

The price of free e-mail

[Link via Kottke] Gmail swap allows those desperate for a Gmail account to post offers to those who have accounts and can invite a few others into the club. Someone actually offered a one week Maui beach house rental for an account. Hot damn.

As you'd expect, many of the offers are bizarre. You can also buy one off of eBay. The going price seems to be about $20.

I have a Gmail account (eugenewei @). I don't use it much, but I do have two invites to give out. I wonder if Google will let me swap them for one share each in the IPO.

As cool as every side of the pillow

The Chillow is a decidedly low-tech soporific: an insert to keep your pillow cool all night. The manufacturer cites a study that claims that subjects using the Chillow fell asleep 68% faster and spent 21% more time in REM sleep. Of course, they only used 20 subjects and the differences were a matter of just a few minutes.

I do love a cool sleeping environment, though. When I travel, I crank up the A/C in hotels to counter the stimulating effects of the strange environment. I may just have to try this Chillow. Wired Gadget Lab gave it a 10 out of 10.

I could also sleep naked, lounging around on furs, like Brad Pitt in Troy. Usually I just catch a cold when I try that.

Yee ha ha

Just these past few weeks, I've taken to trying the Sunday NYTimes crossword puzzle. I find it usually takes a bit of luck to finish the Sunday crossword. But this week's overarching theme (The Echo Effect) clicked into place in my brain and just now, after a few hours of working at it while cooking and cleaning, I finished it.

The Echo Effect meant that the solutions to the thematic clues included a repeated word. Guessing the thematic clues opened up the entire board.

WARNING: spoilers ahead

20 Across: "Flirting with a patient, e.g.?" Doctor no no.

23 Across: "What the mother of a dozen kids says just before turning out the light?" Twelfth night night.

52 Across: "Have a Star Wars character preserved?" Pickle Jar Jar.

69 Across: "Lively fish dance?" Sardine can can.

86 Across: "What the impatient reader of English essays requested?" Lamb chop chop.

117 Across: "Phrase describing an offerer of sympathy?" Who goes there there.

122 Across: "Royal rebuke?" Royal tut tut.

3 Down: "Give either a wholly good or bad review?" Say it isn't so so.

59 Down: "Drum that makes tiny bird sounds?" Peeping tom tom.

Review: Troy

[This review will contain spoilers for those of you uncultured swine who haven't read The Iliad]

He has some of the greatest teammates ever surrounding him. But the offense is not geared towards him, it stifles him, prevents him from displaying his true talents. How galling, for he is the greatest among the greatest. His coach wants him to play within the confines of the offense, to involve his teammates, but he will not listen to reason and charges headlong into battle alone, foolishly, yet no one can take their eyes off him as he soars into the air. His only downfall? A woman. Every generation has its Achilles, and ours is Kobe Bryant.

How to reimagine The Iliad for a modern audience? No need. Classic art emerges relevant to each generation, as it has again. Besides Kobe Bryant as Achilles (Brad Pitt) we have Shaquille O'Neal as Aias or Ajax, "give me the damn ball" Gary Payton as "give me the damn spear" Patroclus, "I just want to win a ring" Karl Malone as Odysseus, "why won't Kobe listen to me" Phil Jackson as "why won't Achilles obey my orders" Agamemnon (Brian Cox), Tim Duncan as noble Hector (Eric Bana). The Zen master should take his team to see Troy.

I revisited The Iliad to confirm my suspicions. Yes, indeed, long before Shaquille O'Neal was fouled by one brutish opposing player after another, Ajax suffered the same rude treatment during the Trojan War:

But Ajax could no longer hold his ground for the shower of darts that rained upon him; the will of Jove and the javelins of the Trojans were too much for him; the helmet that gleamed about his temples rang with the continuous clatter of the missiles that kept pouring on to it and on to the cheek-pieces that protected his face. Moreover his left shoulder was tired with having held his shield so long, yet for all this, let fly at him as they would, they could not make him give ground. He could hardly draw his breath, the sweat rained from every pore of his body, he had not a moment's respite, and on all sides he was beset by danger upon danger.

It's practically a transcript of Brad Miller on Shaquille O'Neal should the Kings and Lakers meet in the next round.

David Benioff does make a few other wise decisions. One is to shed the role of the gods in this version. A modern audience, especially the young girls in the theater to see Orlando Bloom and a buffed-out Brad Pitt would be unlikely to embrace Laurence Olivier as Zeus strolling about an Olympus shrouded in dry ice fog as in Clash of the Titans.

Another is to de-emphasize the role of the face that launched a thousand ships. No woman could live up to that title, and unknown Diane Kruger is given the thankless role here. That she plays Helen as a vapid, pretty face is besides the point, but she will still be vilified by critics for not living up to an impossible standard. Instead, Benioff places most of the blame for the war on a power-hungry Agamemnon, who many will compare to George Bush for launching a war under convenient pretenses. Agamemnon is played with scene-chewing glee by the always maniacal and triumphant Brian Cox.

Benioff and Petersen redirect most of the movie's attention to one of Western culture's original prima donnas, Achilles, a perfect hero for our age of preening sports stars. Brad Pitt is a good choice for Achilles. His chiseled face and muscular figure always having made him somewhat superhuman, and he does aloof and cocky very well. His Achilles reminds me that the trash-talking Larry Bird or Michael Jordan, bat-flipping Barry Bonds, Sharpie wielding Terrell Owens and cell-phone dialing Joe Horn, they all trace their lineage back to Achilles. We finally also learn the answer to how someone like Brad Pitt came into being: some Greek god bedded Julie Christie. It's the most credible explanation yet.

Forget about writing an original screenplay like Gladiator. Here we have an epic battle with a script already finished by Homer, perhaps of the greatest screenwriters of all time. It's the perfect setup, isn't it?

Unfortunately not. For one thing, the Greeks were nothing if not realists. Their gods were arrogant and flawed as much as the mortals in their myths, and all parties always received comeuppance for their hubris. The people in Greek myths always misstep in some way, and for the error of their ways were turned into trees, deer, insects, and then just when you thought they couldn't be punished enough they'd usually be hunted down or killed by their friends and family members, after which they might be served up as the main course at their child's birthday party. These are, after all, the people who invented Greek tragedy, perhaps the most perfect story archetype ever invented. Unfortunately, another democracy several thousands of years later converted to a new story type, that of the happy Hollywood ending in which the hero wins out, and The Iliad isn't that type of story.

Most of the truly sympathetic characters, and there are few in this drama, are supporting players. Who should the audience root for? Hector? Killed. King Priam? Ditto. Hector's wife, played by Saffron Burrows? She weeps for most of the movie, perhaps at the limited nature of her role in the script. The end of the movie arrives without a cathartic release for the audience, an artistic deficiency that will suppress repeat viewings and limit the movie's box office potential.

Also unfortunate is that the battle scenes, from buildup and pre-game inspirational speeches to the ground-shaking march of thousands of soldiers, to the initial bone-crunching, metal-crashing collision of armies, have all been done before. Wolfgang Petersen seems to acknowledge this and rather than fight it simply recycles old standards, like the old, crazy guy from Braveheart (James Cosmo) who plays a Trojan army leader of some sort here. Hey, it's a career, like being the LOOGY (lefty one out guy) out of the bullpen. You laugh, but that crazy old warrior isn't much older than John Franco. We have Boromir, err, Odysseus played by Sean Bean, and Legolas, here transformed into an effeminate Paris, played by Orlando Bloom, still wielding bow and arrow. We encounter the same camera shot that sweeps over the plains along the fault line where two armies collide, taken from Return of the King. It was a much more impressive effect before Peter Jackson and team showed it to us several times, before the days of Age of Empires when any teenage boy can generate the same effect on his home computer.

The battle scenes in Troy aren't always clearly framed. Early on, the Greeks storm the beaches of Troy. Rather, Achilles and his men the Myrmidons (I couldn't help but think of Ben Stiller in Zoolander whenever they said Myrmidon: "Mer-man! Mer-man!") storm the beach early, take one temple, and next thing we know Agamemnon is celebrating the great capture of the beach in his tent. Where were the defenses? Earlier we had seen a few Trojans placing long, pointy logs in the sand. Were some Greeks on foot, their line of sight hampered by the unwieldy tin helmets on their heads, supposed to dash unknowingly into one of these and spear themselves? It won't cause anyone to drop the invasion of Normandy down in the pantheon of beach assaults.

Even the hand-to-hand combat between armies is difficult to see, what with the tight framing, chaotic mess of bodies, and quick cuts. This is actually a problem with many American battle scenes. Certainly, such battles were probably a mess, but directors rely on this purposeful murkiness to mask poorly choreographed fight scenes and to suggest bloody carnage. Compare that with any martial art scene from a Hong Kong director and fight choreographer where every blow is framed beautifully for the audience.

Even when the camera focuses on one fight, it isn't always the right choice. During one battle, Hector meets Patroclus, disguised in Achilles's armor, in the midst of thousands of clashing warriors. As soon as they meet, everyone stops and forms a circle around them, as if surrounding two dueling break-dancers at a night club.

"Dance off! Dance off!"

"C'mon dude, go in the circle."

"No way man! That's Hector and Achilles! Their moves are too good! That stuff is tight. Check it out, Achilles is swinging his spear behind his back."

Somehow when the fight ends, Hector is able to call off the entire battle for the day. How does everyone else on the battlefield find out about the temporary peace? Text pages on the vibrating cell phones tucked under their leather battle skirts?

One positive is that Troy doesn't rely too heavily on digital effects, or at least those it does use are more seamless than in a movie like the latest Star Wars movies. However, Troy doesn't have one memorable signature or money shot of its own.

That is, of course, unless you count the several shots of a nude Brad Pitt reclining on furs. Achilles's fight with Hector is the one memorable fight in the movie, mostly because it's one on one. Pitt's Achilles is a modern day video game character, leaping into the air with the vertical of, well, Kobe Bryant. At one point I swear he executes a cross-over dribble and breaks Hector's ankles. Watching Pitt, I imagined myself holding an X-Box controller, hitting the B-button to execute one of Achilles' flying leaps, and then pressing the A and B buttons together to execute his flying death move in which he soars and pierces the all-important left upper shoulder of his foe.

Pitt looks good. That is also a problem, for he always looks too good, in every role he is in. It's the curse of the incredibly good looking, one I know firsthand. The problem is that it emphasizes some of the weaknesses in the script. For example, Pitt is shown falling for a Trojan priestess Briseis after one encounter, and then after one night of tossing around in the fur, he's so in love that he eventually dies for her. It's hardly believable, not least because it's impossible to imagine Pitt ever falling that deeply in love with anyone. Why fall in love when you look like that and can have any woman? Maybe Jennifer Aniston should've played Briseis. Then at least we'd have circumstantial evidence.

We're also to believe that Pitt returns to battle to avenge his cousin Patroclus's death at the hands of Hector. Our only insight into Achilles and Patroclus's relationship is one brief training battle with wooden swords where the two horse around. It's not enough to set up Achilles's murderous rage at his cousin's death, one which results in him dragging Hector's body around behind his chariot. The engines in Greek tragedies never leave any doubt as to their course; the endings always feel inevitable, unavoidable. Troy evokes no such certainty.

My final quibble with the movie is how poorly it sets up The Odyssey. The Odysseus of Troy is crafty, as to be expected, but also much too humble and mild-mannered. After all, this is the man who, having blinded and fooled the Cyclops and led his men to safety, can't resist getting in one last word. Sailing to freedom from the island where the blind Cyclops screams in fury, Odysseus cannot resist one last bit of trash talking.

"'Cyclops,' said I [Odysseus], 'you should have taken better measure of your man before eating up his comrades in your cave. You wretch, eat up your visitors in your own house? You might have known that your sin would find you out, and now Jove and the other gods have punished you.'

"He got more and more furious as he heard me, so he tore the top from off a high mountain, and flung it just in front of my ship so that it was within a little of hitting the end of the rudder. The sea quaked as the rock fell into it, and the wash of the wave it raised carried us back towards the mainland, and forced us towards the shore. But I snatched up a long pole and kept the ship off, making signs to my men by nodding my head, that they must row for their lives, whereon they laid out with a will. When we had got twice as far as we were before, I was for jeering at the Cyclops again, but the men begged and prayed of me to hold my tongue.

"'Do not,' they exclaimed, 'be mad enough to provoke this savage creature further; he has thrown one rock at us already which drove us back again to the mainland, and we made sure it had been the death of us; if he had then heard any further sound of voices he would have pounded our heads and our ship's timbers into a jelly with the rugged rocks he would have heaved at us, for he can throw them a long way.'

"But I would not listen to them, and shouted out to him in my rage, 'Cyclops, if any one asks you who it was that put your eye out and spoiled your beauty, say it was the valiant warrior Ulysses [Odysseus], son of Laertes, who lives in Ithaca.'

This is, to me, one of the seminal moments in all of Western literature, the quintessential Western hero declaring his name with a sneering arrogance. From Odysseus to Muhammad Ali, a long and distinguished line of trash talkers.

The Odysseus shown in Troy shows not even the slightest inkling of such blooming arrogance. Maybe some of Achilles rubbed off? I credit Homer for realizing Odysseus needed a signature speech to feature in trailers and for the Oscar voters.

What the surf brought in

Hunt for the giant squid - there's no creature in the world I'd rather see than a live giant squid. Not sure why I'm so obsessed with the giant squid, but any references to it will always be logged here.

Survey of best cities for dating (Austin, TX takes the cake; Seattle-ites in disbelief at their #5 ranking)

Gothamist notes that we could see a Roger Clemens-Mike Piazza battery in the All-Star Game this year. That would be amusing. Piazza calls for the splitter, and Clemens throws a heater at Piazza's face, and we might have the opposing batter trying to hold back the catcher from charging the mound. Oh, I'd love that.

Roy Jones Jr. knocked out - unbelievable. You might call it the end of an aura.

The Incredibles trailer

If you trailer it, the web will link to it. The Incredibles looks very funny. I suspect it will be the most challenging of their movies yet from a humor perspective because the characters are human rather than creatures or toys. Pixar has gotten a ton of mileage out of anthropomorphic jokes, and they won't be able to go to that well this time.

To some degree. The characters are still superheroes, or not normal humans, so they'll be able to capitalize on the "superheroes have mundane human problems" jokes also, e.g. the laundry joke in the trailer. A more solid formula for consistent quality than the usual sequel-itis Hollywood finds so reassuring.

Stern to tighten NBA playoff schedule next year

Thank goodness. It's the only thing that's marred an exciting second round thus far, capped by the amazing Lakers win in the final 0.4 seconds tonight.

2046

Someday, I will attend Cannes. This year would have been a good year since 2046, Wong Kar-Wai's next film, long-anticipated but always out of reach, finally opens to the world.

I love so many movies, but it's difficult to imagine myself jotting up a top twenty favorite movies list without Wong Kar-Wai's Chungking Express on it.

Old Boy and Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence also walk the Cannes red carpet this year. Fortunately, Old Boy will arrive on DVD next week for those of us without a handhold on the cinematic upper crust.

Lark

Steve and I don't eat out often, but he's a foodie, so when we do eat out, it's an event. Most of the meal is spent discussing cooking, great meals past, dining experiences memorable for both the good and bad, and mysterious combinationf of flavors that have burrowed their way into our memories. Within me lies the soul of a reluctant foodie. Reluctant not because of the pleasure of fine dining, but the cost. But every so often, the monster emerges from its cage, usually because Christina or Steve has lured it out.

Steve and I converged on Lark tonight. It's the latest venture of former Earth and Ocean chef Johnathan Sundstrom.

We had both hear similar stories about Lark. A treat for the taste buds, but not a great value. I had tried to dine here twice previously but been turned off by the long wait: they don't accept reservations for groups of six or fewer, a policy I think they should change. It's one policy that often turns me off of the next new hot restaurant, and Lark fit the bill. It had permeated the Pacific Northwest food zeitgeist. I was in for a half hour wait tonight, but when Steve arrived a table opened sooner than expected.

The menu is arranged in the following order: cheeses ($4 for one, $11 for three), vegetables/grains, charcuterie, seafood, and meat. We'd both heard the cheese proportions were so small as to be non-existent, so we passed, despite being cheese fanatics. From the vegetable menu we chose four dishes: (1) the sugar peas and pea vines, (2) artichoke heart soup, (3) morel mushrooms with garlic, olive oil, and sea salt, and (4) pommes de terre robuchon Robuchon (Joël Robuchon, the world thanks you). We also selected a bottle of the Harlequin 2002 Syrah.

The sugar peas and pea vines were sauteed in shallots and butter, always a winning combination. The most memorable aspect of the soup was the black enamel iron bowl it arrive in. Very cool. The morel mushroom mix was solid if not spectacular, and the potatoes Robuchon deadly, just the right blend of butter and potatoes. I'd describe potatoes Robuchon as pureed potatoes acting as a vessel for butter. All delightful, though we began comprehending what we'd heard about the stingy portions. Tapas is a euphemism for portions too small to qualify as a dish.

While we waited for our next dishes (compliments to the waiters for knowing when to bring out every dish), we discussed great Seattle meals past (Lampreia and Cafe Juanita), Paris must-try restaurants, and how we'd ever get a reservation at French Laundry.

We skipped the charcuterie and took on two dishes from the seafood menu: seabass and yellowtail with truffled green peaches and sea salt. The roasted eel with saba and potato salad tempted us, and the waiter pushed us towards the scallops, but are there two worse values on any highbrow menu than scallops and shrimp? $20 for four or five lonely scallops? No thanks. The seabass has faded from my memory; it looked more like trout than any seabass I had seen before. The yellowtail arrived sashimi style, with asparagus, mixed greens, and the aforementioned truffled green peaches and sea salt, and it was excellent.

The waiters, all knowledgeable on food, recommended the seared foie gras from the meat menu instead of the foie gras terrine from the charcuterie. We selected that and the crispy duck with caramelized apples, though one waiter talked us out of the rotisserie chicken, feeling it was too much food for just the two of us.

I worship foie gras. Steve and I always order it when it's on the menu. It is the food that separates foodies from non. However, on this occasion, I regret not having chosen the foie gras terrine. The seared foie gras came in a sauce that masked the taste of the foie gras, and to me that's a no-no. The duck was fantastic. Let's just crown duck the king of fowls. No one is ever going to say duck tasted like chicken, and that's a good thing.

For dessert, torn between a rhubarb crisp with ice cream and a Valrhona chocolate tart, we opted for chocolate. Not epic, but good.

So the end verdict? Lark is a restaurant for foodies, pure and simple. Mere mortals won't recover from the sticker shock and tiny portions (count on $50 to $100 per person depending on your wine selection). The rest of us will exercise selective amnesia and choose to remember the food.

Like toppling dominoes or Mouse Trap, but not: The Cog

Karen forwarded this to me, and it's just one of those things you pass along (Flash required). The original is here.

Supposedly it took 606 takes, six million dollars, 3 months, and, most importantly, just one second of computer generation to link the two halves when an exhaust pipe rolls across the floor, to complete this short. Who knows whether or not it's true, but it does make all the difference in this day and age in how much it impresses you.

For a station wagon!?

Apple Studio Display problem

Alas, I have been struck down by the Apple 17" Studio Display problem. Fortunately I'm still under warranty. In the meanwhile, I'm down to one monitor. Working with two displays is one of those things (like broadband Internet access, HDTV, automatic toilet flushers) that once you've experienced it, you can't go back.

Pacific Northwest James Beard award winners

In the 2004 James Beard awards, two Seattle chefs were nominated in the category Best Chef: Northwest/Hawaii: Scott Carsberg of Lampreia and Eric Tanaka of Dahlia Lounge.

Eric Tanaka won the, uhh, Beardie. It's been a while since I've eaten at Dahlia Lounge. I guess Tom Douglas is just a figurehead. I ate once at Lampreia. Spectacular meal, but PRICEY.

Leslie Mackie of Macrina Bakery & Cafe was nominated for All-Clad Bakeware Outstanding Pastry Chef Award. Her work I haven't tried, and that must be corrected soon.

I've been trying to hit all the restaurants I haven't tried in Seattle in an effort to complete the list before I head out of town. Last Friday I dined at La Carta de Oaxaca (tasty and cheap, but very crowded and slow on weekends when no reservations are accepted; go during the week), yesterday Kate treated me to Kaspar's (thumbs up, but how do they stay in business as everyone I've spoken to who has eaten there has sat alone, and we were no exception), and tonight I'm headed to Lark (Johnathan Sundstrom's latest venture).

Swallowtail Butterfly

My 50+ mile bike ride today left me tuckered out. I wasn't expecting to finish Swallowtail Butterfly when I popped it into the DVD player about three hours ago, but I had to at least make a dent in it since it was already long overdue back to Scarecrow.

What unfolded was like one of those scenes in the movies, where someone has been auditioning candidates for lead singer for his band all day and hasn't found anyone remotely suitable. As he's about to pack up, bored, discouraged, one last candidate bursts in the door looking disheveled, harried. He says auditions are closed, but she begs.

Just one song, mister, please.

Alright, fine, he says. You can sing while I pack up. He doesn't expect much.

He begins packing, not even looking her way. She composes herself, closes her eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and then opens her mouth to sing.

And suddenly he stops and looks up, in awe of the talent he's witnessing. He realizes he's found her.

That's how I felt watching Shunji Iwai's Swallowtail Butterfly. With every passing minute, more awed and delighted. A few times I burst out laughing, sitting there by myself in the basement. It woke me up and kept me riveted for over two hours, and the next thing I knew it was three in the morning.

Iwai's movies are difficult to describe. I recently watched All About Lily Chou-Chou, also brilliant, and haven't quite found the words to put it in perspective. Of the two, Swallowtail Butterfly has a more coherent narrative. Still, you can summarize the plot of Pulp Fiction, or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, or City of God, but it only goes so far in capturing the dazzle.

Swallowtail Butterfly follows the fates of several Yentowners, or immigrants who have come to Japan to try and make their fortunes. I'm not sure if the period in question is based on history, but it doesn't matter much. Most of these immigrants live in shantytowns around the edge of some Japanese city. One of these immigrants, a young girl, is left on her own after her mother dies. Her mother's fellow hookers grab her mother's money and dump the young girl off in another part of town where she's passed around from one prostitute to another until one, named Glico, takes pity on her and adopts her, dubbing her Ageha.

Glico is nicknamed the madonna of Yentown, beloved by many for her beauty, generous heart, and singing voice. She has a group of ragged friends who run a dilapidated auto repair shack outside town in the countryside.

One day, one of Glico's customers gets frisky with her and Ageha. Her friend and bodyguard, a former boxer, rushes in and rescues her, but in the process knocks the customer out the second story window onto the street below. The whole gang carries the body into the woods to dispose of it, but as they do so, they discover a mysterious cassette tape inside the man, behind his liver. The song on the tape? Frank Sinatra's "My Way." But that's not all that's on the tape.

From there, the plot explodes outward in a spiral, gathering together disparate plot threads and winding them together in a Chihuly-shaped story. As with movies like Pulp Fiction and Magnolia, odd coincidences provide surprising moments of both serendipity and misfortune.

Iwai has the gift of some of the Tarantino-Scorsese set to merge all types of music with moving pictures in seamless, resonant mixes. Real-life pop singer Chara, of an actual band named the Yentown band, plays Glico, and she's a revelation as an actor, flaunting her coy sexuality and voice to seduce all around her. The camera can't stop seeking her out. Hiroshi Mikami (as Fei Hong), Yosuke Eguchi (as Ryou Ryanki), and Mickey Curtis (as a friendly back street doctor and tattoo artist) also impress.

Iwai favors handheld shots with either natural or extremely artificial lighting. Much of the footage resembles video, and Iwai allows bright lights in otherwise dark environments to bloom across the screen as in an impressionist painting. It isn't empty stylistic preening--Iwai wants a loose, kinetic energy to govern his movies, and the handheld footage and excessive lighting effects reinforce that. The violence that does occur in his movies is of the cartoonish type in Tarantino's movies, evoking unlikely humor.

How do you catch this movie? If you're in Seattle, you can rent it from Scarecrow. I have to return it tomorrow. If you're elsewhere and don't have a video store like Scarecrow near you (that's just about everyone), you can rent it online from Nicheflix or purchase it from YesAsia. Perhaps Tarantino will use his powers to convince Miramax to distribute it here in the U.S. just as directors like he and Scorsese and Coppola have done with undiscovered foreign gems in years past.

Surreal

I went out for a ride around Lake Washington today. Somewhere around the southeast side of the Lake, the bike trail runs down along the west side of Highway 405. The highway is about twenty or thirty feet above the trail, and a grassy hill slopes down from the highway wall to the trail. To the other side of the trail is a chain link fence.

Both ends of the trail are blocked by short cement pillars that let walkers and cyclists through and keep cars out. So it was with some surprise that as I turned a corner, an old red sports car was sitting in the path, sideways, blocking the route. I stopped and stared like an idiot, my brain still on screen saver from the thirty odd miles it had ridden as a passenger.

Only after a few seconds did I realize that the car had crashed through the barrier to the side of the highway, rolled down the grassy hill, and crashed into the chain link fence. The car looked surprisingly good; the hood was just slightly ajar, as if the car was trying to whisper something in its stupor.

And a few seconds later, I heard a voice from the other side of the car (I was facing the passenger door of the car). I went around the trunk of the car through the grass and saw a man kneeling over a woman who was lying on the path, her face bloody. She had hit her face on the steering wheel and was bleeding from a cut in her upper lip. After the crash, she had crawled out of the car and collapsed on the ground.

Someone had already called 911 and was standing up above on the highway to mark the spot of the accident for the paramedics. Bikers riding the trail began accumulating at the site of the accident. The driver lay very still, in a bit of shock, and she kept asking how bad her face looked. Everyone reassured the woman that she was fine. Someone grabbed a fleece from her car and folded it to place under her head as a cushion. Her car, an old Nissan, didn't have airbags or she probably would have gotten off scratch-free. As it was, fortunately the grass slowed her car's descent, and the give in the chain link fence cushioned the blow.

I left after the paramedics arrived, so I have no idea what caused her to fly off the highway. I have no idea how they got the car off the path, either, if they have at all. If I had arrived at that point in the trail just a few minutes earlier, I might have seen a car come flying down from the sky to crash into the fence in front of me, or even worse, been driven into the fence by a three thousand pound car. It was one of the few times this season I've been glad to be so out of shape and slow on the bike.

KG

Exciting if sloppy game between the T-Wolves and Kings today, and despite blowing a 14-point lead with only four minutes to play, the Wolves pulled out the win at Arco Arena for a 2-1 series lead.

Of all the teams remaining in the NBA playoffs, my sympathies lie with the T-Wolves, primarily because of KG. He's a Chicago boy, and I saw him play once when he was still at Farragut Academy H.S. It was an early round game in the state playoffs, and Garnett was a man among boys, despite only being a boy himself. I was home with a broken leg after graduating college, and here was this kid who was about my age, nearly 7 feet tall, running the court like a guard on skates. He had 32 points, 13 boards, 5 blocks: it was awe-inspiring. How Farragut lost in the quarterfinals in their next game I'll never know because Garnett had Mr. Hop Ronnie Fields as a teammate as well. I believe Fields once pulled a Vince Carter and leapt over an opposing player for a dunk in a high school game.

The Wolves also have Stanford alum Mark "Mad Dog" Madsen whom I've met once before a Stanford hoops game. One of the nicer athletes I've ever met, and like KG, a hustler, though KG has about ten times the skill level.

KG had never even won an NBA playoff series until last year, so I'm rooting for him to go all the way. The Wolves will be underdogs in every series in the West, but that should reduce the external pressures.

She is the One

During a recent visit to see Sadie, I was shocked to discover that she had already begun using the Force in rudimentary ways to manipulate her toys. With a simple wave of her hand, she opened up the square velcro covering of her learning cube.

Childproofing that house will be a challenge.

An anime summer

There's no reason why there shouldn't be a Japanese Quicktime movie trailer page, but I never thought to even look until I stumbled onto it while searching for information about Steamboy.

Anyhow, I found the Steamboy trailer. Katsuhiro Ôtomo hasn't directed much of note since the anime classic Akira, so I'm looking forward to Steamboy.

A few anime legends are coming out with work this summer. Masamune Shirow's Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence is playing the Seattle Film Fest. I have a pair of tickets to see it there at Cinerama, but sadly it plays the same day as James and Angela's wedding. D'oh! Why do all good things cluster together?

Review of AllofMP3.com

I finally gave AllofMP3 a test run this past weekend while down in L.A. AllofMP3 is a new online music service based out of Russia but offering an option to view its site in English (albeit with a few humorous translations).

It took a few hours before I could get through--the site claimed to be down for technical upgrades. When I did, I was prompted to sign up for a V.I.P account before I could begin purchasing music. That simply means loading a payment account with funds to minimize AllofMP3's transaction costs. What you purchase is bandwidth for downloading the songs at the rate of $10 per 1 GB in increments of $10, $15, $25, or $50 for 1GB to 5GB.

A music service based out of Russia? A bit dodgy, but they offered PayPal as a payment option so I chose that in order to keep my credit card number out of their hands. After loading up $15 and 1.5 GB, I browsed the music catalog (they also offer a music video and Russian music catalog).

The selection is not great, but it includes just enough interesting titles to offer at least 1 GB of appealing music. Once you select a song you want, you need to select what format you want to download it in. You can also choose to have it encoded straight from the source CD which costs slightly more. The mind-boggling array of formats offered, including those that aren't locked by DRM restrictions, is one of the primary breakthroughs of the service. Formats offered include:

• MP3 in both Lame and Blade codecs, constant and variable bit-rates (CBR and VBR), from 128 kbps to 320 kbps


• Windows Media Audio (WMA) 7 or 8 or 9, 128 kbps to 320 kbps, CBR One-Pass or Two-Pass or Quality-Based or Bit-Rate-Based VBR


• OGG Vorbis files in CBR from 128 kbps to 320 kbps or Quality-Cased CBR from Q3 through Q10


• MPEG-4 AAC in CBR from 128 to 320 kbps or VBR in 4 different quality levels


• MusePack MPC files in five different quality levels

Select albums are also available for download in lossless formats, including the original wave files for those simply wishing to download an entire CD.

Once you've bought the songs, you can find links to download them in your download section. Here's where the music purchasing experience using a web browser pales in comparison to using client software like iTunes. You have to right click on each song and select Save As and select a folder to drop the file in. AllofMP3 offers some client software for purchasing music but I wasn't able to try it as it only works with Windows.

Another annoyance is that once you've downloaded the song, it disappears from your download area. Since you're paying for download bandwidth, why not just leave the songs you've purchased in that section but mark them as previously downloaded?

Most of the downloads were available immediately after I purchased the, though a few took a few days before they were ready. If their lawyers can withstand the inevitable legal siege, AllofMP3 needs to go out and buy one of every CD in existence and rip them in every possible format, starting from the most popular albums and formats and working back.

The music? Plays great. I typically have rock encoded at 160 kbps and classical music at 192 kbps, and at those rates, the cost per song is phenomenally low.

My primary question is how they get away with this legally. Not that I'm complaining, but I am curious. In their FAQ, one of the question is just that: is it legal to download music from AllofMP3? The reply:

All the materials in the MediaServices projects are available for distribution through Internet according to license # LS-3?-03-79 of the Russian Multimedia and Internet Society. Under the license terms, MediaServices pays license fees for all the materials subject to the Law of the Russian Federation "On Copyright and Related Rights". All the materials are available solely for personal use and must not be used for further distribution, resale or broadcasting.

Oh, of course. The Russian Multimedia and Internet Society. Russian translators are being hired left and right by the labels to try and decipher that license.

CONCLUSION: AllofMP3 won't cause me to throw away iTunes, but its two primary trump cards--ridiculously low prices and the ability to select any format you want to encrypt the song in--overshadow its warts, of which the largest is its meager selection. We're talking about prices 10X to 20X cheaper than Apple iTunes Music Store. Let's see if they can avoid being sued out of existence by the labels. If so, they should pour some kerosene on the fire.

What the surf brought in

Curvy rap video babes gain a following - Melyssa, Gloria, and Ki Toy

Jessica Simpson's new line of erotic and edible beauty products, as reported in the NYTimes - but no tuna flavored body cream. Oh, the mock customer reviews are a'comin. Take some strawberries, top them with a bit of this whipped body cream, and finish with a few spritzes of this hair and body mist for a refreshing summer treat.

No one rouses the rabble like Michael Moore - he's even better at that nowadays than he is at making documentaries.

Another victim of the low-carb craze: Krispy Kreme lowers earnings expectations for the year and its stock gets hammered - the only thing Krispy Kreme is helping people to slim down these days is their stock portfolios.

Smart people vote Democrat - hmmm, is this good or bad news for the Democrats? UPDATE: Hold that thought.

BMW owners have the most sex, Porsche owners the least - maybe b/c there's no backseat in a Porsche? Wow, the BMW motto, "sheer driving pleasure," takes on a whole new meaning.

Review: Step Into Liquid

Dana Brown's documentary Step Into Liquid is most riveting when the camera is below, on top of, inside, or behind the water following ridiculous surfgods like Laird Hamilton. It's not nearly as compelling when it turns the surfers into talking heads. Let's face it: Kelly Slater is a long way from Robert McNamara in The Fog of War. But then again, McNamara wouldn't look that good in a bikini.

When surfers speak of their sport, it always comes out as pseudo-mystical mumbo jumbo. But when a surfer disappears into the tube of a 60 foot wave and then emerges with just a second to spare as tons of water comes crashing down like the fingers of Neptune, and it's all captured on video by a camera at water level peering into the tube? Well, no talking is necessary to convey the stoke. And hell, they're already tan and good-looking and fit. If they were articulate as well, I'd probably kill myself. Thankfully, Dana Brown also depicts some surfers that don't look like Laird Hamilton, including a couple of yahoos from Wisconsin, the message being that surfing unites the world in a merry go round of love, connecting us to nature in the purest way.

The real eye-opener, to me, was the foil board. Laird and other surfing revolutionaries attached a foil to the bottom of a board, strapped themselves on as if snowboarding, and invented a board that elevates the boarder up above the water. I had never seen this before and it blew my mind. I can't even surf normally and already I want to try foilboarding or hydrofoilboarding or whatever they call it. It's so new it doesn't have an established name yet.

Friends finale

I haven't watched Friends in years, so I wasn't sure if I'd emotionally connect with the finale. Gavin and Sheila hosted a finale party, though, and even though I don't have an office job anymore I still feel the need to be armed for water cooler conversation.

Turns out I hadn't missed much. The characters are still exactly the same, ten years later. Oh sure, some have gotten married, some have kids, etc., but the only thing preventing the show from running along forever were the movie ambitions of a few of the actors and the unpleasant effects of aging.

The first two years of Friends came out just as I was finishing college and entering the real world and thus it appealed to me in a firsthand way (even though I had a job that should have paid me more than all of them yet they lived in a palatial apartment in New York). After those years, it was never must-see TV for me. Its humor never cut too deep, and thus I can barely remember any memorable episodes. Compare that to Seinfeld or The Simpsons, from which I could cite a dozen references or episodes off the top of my head.

Still, Friends was like comfort food. On an open Thursday night, it was pleasant to the taste and familiar and reassuring in the fairy-tale manner of all great sitcoms. Fortunately, for fans, in a year or two all the seasons will have come out on DVD (not to mention syndication) where the six of them will live on forever. It will be as if the show was never canceled.

Now if I can just figure out how to get into their rent control program in Manhattan...

Butter your butt

According to LanceArmstrong.com, the brand of chamois butter Lance (newly proclaimed best male athlete in the world) was using but refused to name in episode one of The Lance Chronicles was Assos Chamois Creme.

At $17 to $18, it's pricey. However, for long rides, some type of chamois creme is indispensable. Not just for comfort, but to prevent saddles sores. I've never had a saddle sore, I think, but the name of the condition is frightening enough. Cold sore, canker sore, saddle sore...the only word more horrific in the medical lexicon might be boil. Saddle boil. Ooh.

Still, chamois creme, or butter, if you prefer, iss no substitute for conditioning one's derriere that's more effective than a lot of miles on the bike. Or perhaps one should just wet oneself?

Sorkin still working

Aaron Sorkin lives. He's writing and producing The Farnsworth Invention, a movie about the battle between Philo Farnsworth and Vladimir Zworykin to claim credit for the invention of a little something called the television. Sorkin's pal Thomas Schlamme will co-produce and direct.

I'm not sure, but I'm guessing both Farnsworth and Zworykin will talk very quickly and argue while walking through long corridors.

Battle of Algiers coming to DVD

From the Criterion website:

Criterion’s upcoming release of Gillo Pontecorvo’s landmark 1965 film The Battle of Algiers will be a three DVD set. This special edition will include a new transfer supervised by cinematographer Marcello Gatti and a number of features created specifically for the Criterion release, including new interviews with writer/director Gillo Pontecorvo, producer/actor Saadi Yacef, actor Jean Martin, Marcello Gatti, composer Ennio Morricone, and historians Benjamin Stora and Alistair Horne. Also featured will be filmmakers speaking to the film's importance, including directors Steven Soderbergh, Julian Schnabel, and Spike Lee. Look for Criterion’s The Battle of Algiers this autumn.

Meanwhile, a couple bloggers set out to watch every movie in the Criterion Collection. 1 a week. They're only on #3, so they've got a ways to go.

These lists seem to be all the rage now. Read one magazine a week. Cook one new dish every week. I'm embarrassed to admit I watch something like one movie and read approximately one magazine every day.

Before Sunset

Yeah! The trailer for Before Sunset, a sequel I've played out in my head for nine years.

Spider cents (and dollars)

Seems that most of the media is up in arms over MLB's decision to strike a marketing deal with Columbia Pictures to promote Spider-Man 2 with logos on bases and on-deck circles. Even Ralph Nader is decrying this travesty against the sacred field of play of America's pastime (I guess his campaign isn't occupying too much of his time).

Very strange, this outcry. First of all, none of the fans will be able to see these logos on the bases unless the entire base is painted. The only fans with an angle to see the top of the bases will be in the upper deck, and they'll be too far away to make out the logo.

Second, baseball and all sports are already overrun with advertising. At Safeco Field the entire scoreboard is surrounded by ads. Every piece of scoreboard entertainment, even the scoreboard itself, is sponsored. Stadiums are named after corporations. Stadium giveaways are always sponsored. The manager signals to the bullpen for a reliever? That's sponsored. Bowl games are no longer referred to by their non-corporate nicknames alone (e.g. Nokia Sugar Bowl). On television, pre-game shows, graphics, and regular features such as trivia questions are all sponsored.

Frankly, I'm surprised they don't place ads above urinals so I have something to look at while I pee ("This pee brought to you by Budweiser, literally").

Air

I saw Air in concert last Thursday. It was the first concert I've been to (other than classical music) where I looked around and thought: I can beat up every dude in this auditorium, including the two guys on stage (JB Dunckel and Nicolas Godin).

By chance, I scored the best tickets of my life in the pre-sale and ended up in the 2nd row, near the center of the main floor. It provided a mostly unobstructed view of Air except when some zealous fans rushed to the stage during the encores to bop awkwardly to the difficult-to-dance-to ethereal tunes. Air wasn't bad live, but their music isn't the type that's flattered by live performance. Electronic in nature, it plays better coming out of the CD player. Much of the concert was programmed and consisted of the two of them hitting a few keys or strumming a few chords while all sorts of computers played pre-programmed loops.

If the rumors about Quentin and Sofia are true, will Air score one of Quentin's upcoming movies? Now that would be artistic dissonance of a very high order.

Bora Bora

This cycling wheelset from Campagnolo (carbon Bora G3 tubulars) makes me cry because (1) they're so beautiful and (2) they weigh only 1,300 grams and mostly because (3) they cost $2,599.

Cycling on OLN

One of the great side effects of Lance Armstrong's domination of the Tour de France has been the surge in television coverage of cycling in the U.S. Almost all of that has been on the Outdoor Life Network (OLN).

This year has been the best yet. In addition to covering all three major tours (Giro, TDF, and Vuelta), OLN is broadcasting highlights of nearly all the spring classics. I love the Classics! OLN also offers The Lance Chronicles (a behind-the-scenes look at Lance's prep for #6) and The Road to the Tour (a weekly update on Lance and his main rivals).

The first episode of The Lance Chronicles was geek heaven. After last year's close shave, Lance and co. are taking his equipment obsession to new heights in search of every possible edge. Lance put his new Trek time trial bike through its paces in Seattle this year, at the Kirsten Wind Tunnel. This year he's trying out a new, more aerodynamic time trial position which has him stretched out more. Apparently it's working as he's already won several time trials this season.

He also tested a new UCI-complaint helmet from Giro (rules this year require even time trial helmets to be safety aids rather than just the aerodynamic shells they were in years past) and new Swift Skin time trial suits from Nike. Last but not least, in search of every little edge, Lance is having his number painted or sewn directly into his time trial suit instead of pinned on his back where it can flutter and catch the wind. Every little aerodynamic impediment counts!

Next episode: introducing Sheryl Crow, Lance's new chamois expert.

I hope that after Lance retires, OLN doesn't cut back its race coverage.

Danger prone digits

I've been meaning to write more, but through a odd string of mishaps caused mostly by carelessness, the fingers on my right hand have been in dire straits.

First was the torn tendon from basketball, caused by bitter-balding-old-guy. Then my car phone charger disintegrated, and when I reached into the cigarette lighter, a loose spring completed a circuit and gave me a painful electric burn on my index finger. The skin from that accident is still falling away.

Yesterday, closing the garage, my index-middle-ring finger trio got crushed between two panels as the door closed, and now they're swollen, bruised, and throbbing.

So typing is slow, painful, and inaccurate. If this were a Monty Python movie, my lone unharmed digit, the precious opposable thumb, would now be hacked off by a stray gunshot or frisbeeing saw blade.