It's really sad when beautiful films that halt and haunt you go unnoticed on Oscar night, evaporating in the ether, buried deep in the Netflix catalogue for no one to put in queue. AMPAS, did your screeners get lost in the mail? Last night I watched 80 years worth of Oscars. Had I known, I wouldn't have stayed up for four hours all those previous years. I thought the writers went back to work? If I had to see another historical clip, my neighbors would've called the police. And, was Jon Stewart on valium?...zzzzz. All that money, the dresses, the jewelry, the hairdo's, the facials, the shoes, the red carpet, the weatherproof tents. Hollywood can add another hundred mill to the $2.5 Billion loss from the WGA strike.
Is it just me or were real films ignored - like 4 mos, 3 wks, 2 nights or Into the Wild, naming two out of the hundreds out there? I like the Coen Bros, I really do. They thanked everyone for letting them play in a corner of the sandbox...I wish someone would let me IN the sandbox, let alone play for one minute. Someday, someone will listen. And maybe, just maybe, some day, they will let me in...I'll even bring my own sand.
I was disappointed about Tilda Swinton. She's a fine actess indeed, but Ruby had finer moments as did Laura. No Country is a good movie, but not better than many other films that weren't even nominated. It's easy to criticize, I know. But, hey...no one listens to me anyway, so I can say what I want.
Speaking of films that might get lost in the ether...my friend's film UP THE YANGTZE will be in theaters in April...go see it. It's stunningly shot, a doc feature.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
From the inside
I want to be him.
Teaching is like a brussel sprout, either you love it or you don't. I happen to find it exhilirating and deeply rewarding to witness the transformations in students who actually get what I say. I admit, teaching fulfills my need to have people listen to me. So, teaching's perfect for someone who strives to be an authority figure. Last night, I had about 60 students in two classes, Beginning Acting and Intermediate Acting. For most of the students, English was a second, if not struggling, language...and it was perfect. From my heart, kudo's to immigrants! Screw immigration laws. We are all people working to live our lives. America created the American Dream. Let us aspire to those dreams instead of spending wasteful time stomping on people's heads. Apologies for the off tangent spin, but it just came out. Sometimes that happens.
So, anyway, back to the kids in the class...between the ages of 13-23. After substitute teaching in NYC public high schooIs, I was ready for a nightful of headache inducing urban contemporary gestures (UCG's - credit given to my friend, Ms. P, who came up with that term). You know, the "unh-unh finger flicking hand swirling body tilting hip jutting head turkey-bobbing" kind of rebelliousness that makes me want to smack them on the side of the head and say, "go to your room" only they're not your kid and this is a class in Harlem, afterall. I was so wrong. I'll be the first to admit downfalls and smack-myself-in-the-head bites of the tongue ignorant outbursts. I am fallible, and terribly prejudiced. I don't pretend to understand the current trend to save Darfur when so much of what is going on there remains globally prevalent. Why Darfur? Why not Burma or Sierra Leone with the largest child soldier armies in the world? Sorry, sorry, I sway again.
But, last night, these kids melted my heart and taught me instead. Every one of them wanted to be an actor because, "it'll give me confidence, teach me how to speak English better, be famous so that I can help my people, I can let everything inside all out and come out of depression for a little while." I gave them exercises, scenes to act out in their own words. A mother dying. A person murdered before their eyes. Witnessing a rape. An abandoning father. A choice of killing someone to save your own life. I could not have written a better script. Their words were viscerally poignant, made me cry, made the other kids cry. They got it. They got that acting comes from within, that the script has to come from you. Then, I handed out corks (I sterilize and collect them to hand out in situations like this). They each gripped the corks between their teeth and recited, "the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain," over and over and over. Then they took the corks out and recited it again...it was music. Their voices were pure, nearly accent free. They wowed each other and me, laughed from the amazement of their transformation that they were speaking English, clearly, crisply, cleanly like the true Americans they really are but never knew because people kept telling them otherwise. I learned more from them than they from me last night...and I thought...I love teaching and having someone listen to what I have to say.
Teaching is like a brussel sprout, either you love it or you don't. I happen to find it exhilirating and deeply rewarding to witness the transformations in students who actually get what I say. I admit, teaching fulfills my need to have people listen to me. So, teaching's perfect for someone who strives to be an authority figure. Last night, I had about 60 students in two classes, Beginning Acting and Intermediate Acting. For most of the students, English was a second, if not struggling, language...and it was perfect. From my heart, kudo's to immigrants! Screw immigration laws. We are all people working to live our lives. America created the American Dream. Let us aspire to those dreams instead of spending wasteful time stomping on people's heads. Apologies for the off tangent spin, but it just came out. Sometimes that happens.
So, anyway, back to the kids in the class...between the ages of 13-23. After substitute teaching in NYC public high schooIs, I was ready for a nightful of headache inducing urban contemporary gestures (UCG's - credit given to my friend, Ms. P, who came up with that term). You know, the "unh-unh finger flicking hand swirling body tilting hip jutting head turkey-bobbing" kind of rebelliousness that makes me want to smack them on the side of the head and say, "go to your room" only they're not your kid and this is a class in Harlem, afterall. I was so wrong. I'll be the first to admit downfalls and smack-myself-in-the-head bites of the tongue ignorant outbursts. I am fallible, and terribly prejudiced. I don't pretend to understand the current trend to save Darfur when so much of what is going on there remains globally prevalent. Why Darfur? Why not Burma or Sierra Leone with the largest child soldier armies in the world? Sorry, sorry, I sway again.
But, last night, these kids melted my heart and taught me instead. Every one of them wanted to be an actor because, "it'll give me confidence, teach me how to speak English better, be famous so that I can help my people, I can let everything inside all out and come out of depression for a little while." I gave them exercises, scenes to act out in their own words. A mother dying. A person murdered before their eyes. Witnessing a rape. An abandoning father. A choice of killing someone to save your own life. I could not have written a better script. Their words were viscerally poignant, made me cry, made the other kids cry. They got it. They got that acting comes from within, that the script has to come from you. Then, I handed out corks (I sterilize and collect them to hand out in situations like this). They each gripped the corks between their teeth and recited, "the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain," over and over and over. Then they took the corks out and recited it again...it was music. Their voices were pure, nearly accent free. They wowed each other and me, laughed from the amazement of their transformation that they were speaking English, clearly, crisply, cleanly like the true Americans they really are but never knew because people kept telling them otherwise. I learned more from them than they from me last night...and I thought...I love teaching and having someone listen to what I have to say.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
A few days late
Rejected Valentine's Day Cards...perfect.
You gotta love Donny at "You suck at Photoshop."
You gotta love Donny at "You suck at Photoshop."
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Real politics
A MUST-READ...you'll laugh aloud...really.
If you liked Thank You for Smoking, you will love this book. Buckley is a master political humorist. A genius comedic wordsmith.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Who's in you heart?
VALENTINE'S DAY: (thank you wikipedia)
Thanks to a concentrated marketing effort, Valentine's Day has emerged in China, Japan and Korea as a day on which women, and less commonly men, give chocolate or flowers. It has become an obligation for many women to give chocolates to all male co-workers. In Japan this is known as giri-choko (義理チョコ), from the words giri ("obligation") and choko, ("chocolate").
This contrasts with honmei-choko (本命チョコ); chocolate given to a loved one. Friends, especially girls, may exchange chocolate referred to as tomo-choko (友チョコ); from tomo meaning "friend". In China, the common situation is that the man gives chocolate, flowers or both to the woman that he loved. In chinese, Valentine's Day called (simplified Chinese: 情人节; traditional Chinese: 情人節) (hanyu pinyin: qing ren jie).
By a further marketing effort, a reciprocal day called White Day has emerged. On March 14, men are expected to return the favour to those who gave them chocolates on Valentine's Day. Originally, the return gift was supposed to be white chocolate or marshmallows; hence "White Day". However, lingerie and jewelry have become common gifts.
In South Korea, there is also Pepero Day, celebrated on November 11, when young couples give each other romantic gifts, in particular a long, chocolate cookie named Pepero, thus Pepero Day. The date '11/11' is intended to resemble the long shape of the cookie. There is an additional day for single people, Black Day, celebrated on April 14.
In Chinese culture, there is a counterpart to Valentine's Day, called "The Night of Sevens" (七夕). According to the legend, the Cowherd star and the Weaver Maid star are normally separated by the milky way (river) but are allowed to meet by crossing it on the 7th day of the 7th month of the lunar calendar. 七夕 is also remembered in Korea, where its association with romance has long faded.
In Japan, a slightly different version of 七夕 (called Tanabata, which is said to mean 棚機 a weaver for a god) is celebrated , on July 7th but on the solar calendar. However, it is never regarded that the celebration is even remotely related with the St. Valentine's Day or lovers giving gifts to each other.
Thanks to a concentrated marketing effort, Valentine's Day has emerged in China, Japan and Korea as a day on which women, and less commonly men, give chocolate or flowers. It has become an obligation for many women to give chocolates to all male co-workers. In Japan this is known as giri-choko (義理チョコ), from the words giri ("obligation") and choko, ("chocolate").
This contrasts with honmei-choko (本命チョコ); chocolate given to a loved one. Friends, especially girls, may exchange chocolate referred to as tomo-choko (友チョコ); from tomo meaning "friend". In China, the common situation is that the man gives chocolate, flowers or both to the woman that he loved. In chinese, Valentine's Day called (simplified Chinese: 情人节; traditional Chinese: 情人節) (hanyu pinyin: qing ren jie).
By a further marketing effort, a reciprocal day called White Day has emerged. On March 14, men are expected to return the favour to those who gave them chocolates on Valentine's Day. Originally, the return gift was supposed to be white chocolate or marshmallows; hence "White Day". However, lingerie and jewelry have become common gifts.
In South Korea, there is also Pepero Day, celebrated on November 11, when young couples give each other romantic gifts, in particular a long, chocolate cookie named Pepero, thus Pepero Day. The date '11/11' is intended to resemble the long shape of the cookie. There is an additional day for single people, Black Day, celebrated on April 14.
In Chinese culture, there is a counterpart to Valentine's Day, called "The Night of Sevens" (七夕). According to the legend, the Cowherd star and the Weaver Maid star are normally separated by the milky way (river) but are allowed to meet by crossing it on the 7th day of the 7th month of the lunar calendar. 七夕 is also remembered in Korea, where its association with romance has long faded.
In Japan, a slightly different version of 七夕 (called Tanabata, which is said to mean 棚機 a weaver for a god) is celebrated , on July 7th but on the solar calendar. However, it is never regarded that the celebration is even remotely related with the St. Valentine's Day or lovers giving gifts to each other.
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