Grosse Point Blank: a romantic comedy in disguise, and thoughts on dry humor

This movie wasn't a romantic comedy, but it was romantic and it was funny. So I guess it is a romantic comedy, after all. A romantic comedy minus those ooey-gooey moments that make you squirm in your seat and feel just a little embarrassed that your watching :)

First off, John Cusack's presence made the film work. What can I say, the man is enigmatic. His expressions are fun to watch and his diffident charm makes him the ideal leading man for a movie of this kind. After watching Scarface (1932) which didn't have any great actors, I appreciated John for his sheer charisma. A few actors have it, the vast majority don't. It's an indescribable something that draws the viewer into the film and captures the imagination.

Also, the script was very good. It didn't quite play to my particular sense of humor, so I didn't laugh very often. But I could sense the script was well-written. The tongue-in-cheek humor gave the movie a smart, off-beat feel. Funny how when humor is tongue-in-cheek or dry or whatever you want to call it, (basically when the jokes aren't set-up with ridiculous facial expressions or slap-stick misshaps), then humor is elevated to the level of an art form and commands respect from all who encounter it.

Tongue in cheek humor almost always elevates the comic to a superior status by putting their audience on the defensive: if the audience fails to "get" it, the joke's on them. Actually, it even goes beyond "getting" the joke. A proper response to tongue in cheek humor is tongue in cheek humor . . . otherwise the receiver of the joke drops the ball, so to speak. Which is quite an easy mistake to make. This helps to explain why, with tongue in cheek humor, it often feels like the comic is laughing at you and not with you. As a decidedly not funny person, I'm often on the outside of jokes and I often feel awkward around people with dry senses of humor.

Tongue in cheek humor is very powerful and, in social situations, can be applied to a dazzling or disastrous effect. It can be very tasteful and delightful if the comic knows when to stop and is willing to laugh with you if you fail to catch on or do not know what to say. Otherwise, it will feel like the dry-witted humorist is abusing their powers by refusing to throw you a life-saver. People like that are downright annoying . . . I hate the types who seem to enjoy putting others on the outside of jokes and watching them squirm . . .

Which leads me to a final point about humor. Interestingly, the most people-centered and friendly folks I know are often funny. They enjoy making light of life and laughing with you. On the flip side, the most arrogant people I know (certainly the most arrogant person I know), are also very funny . . . but they do it in the smart-alecky, refuse-to-throw-you-a-life-saver kind of way.

I guess humor is like most everything else in life. It isn't inherently good or bad, but what counts is the spirit you do it in.

Who first experimented with camera angles?

Something I noticed about Scarface (1932) that made it tiresome is that the camera angles were so tame. It was like watching a play except on film. The camera was almost always 10-20 feet away, putting all of the characters in a predictable "box" and me, the viewer, provided the fourth wall to that box so to speak. Hitchcock's movies break out of that box . . . was he the first?

Scarface (1932) and what makes art timeless

From the title of this post, you're probably expecting me to herald Scarface as a classic. But it's just the opposite. This seminal gangster flick is, in my opinion, now only relevant to film connoisseurs and history buffs. Why is it, then, that Alfred Hitchcock movies from the same era have aged so much better?

If a work of art is valuable only for its technical innovations, then that work of art will captivate the public imagination so long as its technical achievements go unsurpassed. For artists with the technique of Beethoven or Shakespeare, their art will have extraordinary staying power . . . but few are in their league. Scarface was in the category of only being exciting to viewers in 1930. Cinematography has come such a long way that it really doesn't have a fighting chance on technique alone.

Timelessness comes down to content and ideas. The more mind-bending and revolutionary the ideas involved, the longer it will last. Scarface fails yet again. Heck, it was a gangster movie. I know I'm expecting way too much from it. But the truth is that the simplistically good and bad characters in this movie bored me to tears. And sentimentality will doom any work of art to the trash bin.

Up until this point, I've just been stating the obvious. But what makes this line of questioning fascinating is when you compare Scarface to an Alfred Hitchcock move from the same era. And Hitchcock's movies, at a surface level at least, were often no "deeper" then the next who-done-it.

Where do the charisma of Hitchcock movies come from? They give me a lot to think about at a subconscious level; they stick with me and unsettle me long after I click the TV off. This many years later, their power is extraordinary. Vertigo may be my favorite movie of all time. I can watch that movie over and over and never get tired of it. Why? If timelessness is all about ideas, then why is that that most powerful works of art are the ones you walk away from understanding the least?

On a happier note: the magic of Sarah Vaughan

Just listened to "Misty" and "In a Sentimental Mood" as sung by the great Sarah Vaughan. That last tune was so haunting. It creates the most singular mood. It's supposed to be romantic, but the way she sings it, the song sort of lingers after it's finished and leaves one with lots of questions . . . that's the thing that's great about jazz. I'm not a big jazz fan, but I will say that there are certain moods and auras that only jazz can evoke. I think it has a lot to do with the chords used in jazz, the dissonances of those chords give the music it's particular flavor and make jazz good at creating nuances of feelings. If I want straight up happy I turn to pop, if I want straight up romantic I might turn to R&B, if I want straight up rebellion it would be rock or hip hop and straight up beautiful is classical . . . but if I want something that will express something in between, something I can't quite put my finger on, I turn to jazz . . .

Indie Rock: a shameful chapter in the history of rock 'n roll

I just finished watching Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. The principle thing I learned from it is that a work of art will fail if the characters depicted are unlikable. Nick was boring, Norah was cute . . . but Clarissa was a big, whiny three-year old and Tess (or Tiss, or whoever she was), was a skanky ass hoe. So there you go. I couldn't care less about the characters and therefore could care less about what happened to them. Cut that tie and then the whole movie goes down the drain, along with the soundtrack, and, more to the point, indie rock.

What's wrong with indie rock? Well, to sum it up, it sounds bad. But why? I know you're dying to know just why it sounds so gosh-awful. And you're probably scratching your head, like me, and wondering how we ever went from Led Zeppelin to Modest Mouse, (really, who would name their band that?), from the Stones to Yo-La-Tango. (?)

Well my friends, the answer is that indie rockers misapplied the great, time-honored truth: every great movement is in reaction to something. Rock 'n roll happened in reaction to big-band swing; punk rock happened in reaction to classic rock, alternative rock happened in reaction to the last vestiges of classic rock and the MTV era, indie rock happened in reaction to alternative rock, and well, anything that sounded good. You know the problem with indie rock? They exist in reaction to everything about rock that's great. They tampered with the very ingredients of the formula that make rock sound good, heck that make any kind of music sound good. Let's examine this point by point.

1) Great band names became beyond lame band names. I've already cited a few examples above. When I heard about MuteMath's latest release, I didn't even wince.

2) The blues went down the toilet. 'Nuff said. None of the indie bands know how to play the blues. You take the blues out rock, you take the rock out of rock.

3) Cool lyrics about love, sex, and rebellion became lyrics about autumns sweaters and never-ending math equations. (Thanks Yo-La-Tango and Modest Mouse!)

4) Bass-driven grooves became . . . oops! The bass is either absent or it's playing a drone.

5) Rich, beautifully phrased guitar melodies became short, choppy, staccato ostinatos (repeated melodic fragments inspired by avante-garde classical music a-la Phillip Glass). You kinda have to know that last bit for those tinny sounding ostinatos to have a fighting chance at sounding cool. Don't forget to take your opera glasses with you to the Nothing Rhymes With Orange concert.

6) R&B inspired belting became nerdy whining. Really, I don't know what else to call it. Is it just me, or do lots of indie singers sound like they, well, don't know how to sing? The women often adopt an affected Billie Holiday-ish pout and the guys make a style out of straining for high notes and warping the vowels to suit their English-major poetic recitation fantasies? It's unforgivable.

Alright, I'll cut the ranting but indie rock sets my panties in a twist. I just think it sounds so bad. Does anyone really, really like it? It just isn't cool. Doesn't look cool, doesn't sound cool.

Nothing.

Swingers: favorite lines

Mike approaches a girl at a party and her initial response?

"What car do you drive?"

Vince Vaughan's put down: "She's business class . . . big but, can't fly coach."

What the guys all said, time and time again, about some lonely bar before hopping over to the next lonely bar:
"This place is dead."

Vince Vaughan to Mike: "You're so money and you don't even know it."

Swingers: it was fun to see it from a guy's perspective . . .

The whole single, dating, romance thing . . . sucks, doesn't it? If you're in a great relationship, well, good for you. But for the rest of us, whether you're trying to meet someone, trying to avoid having someone meet you, trying to forget someone . . . it just sucks from every angle. The great thing about Swingers is that it attests to that in a very honest way but wraps up with a happy ending. It's like a chick flick without the sappiness along the way. Oh yeah, did I mention that it examines the whole dating thing from a guy's perspective? That was really fun. Because what I learned is that we're all in the same boat, guys are girls: it's awkward and painful for all of us, in the same ways, and for the same reasons.

The message of the movie, "be yourself," was time-worn, but it was given a refreshingly complex treatment. Mike is hurting over the break-up of a six year relationship and struggles to meet someone new. His friend Trent, a ladies man, tries to teach Mike a thing or two about meeting women. When Mike follows Trent's script, things don't work out, of course. However, the movie isn't so simplistic that Mike hits it off with someone as soon as he lets his guard down. He has to fumble around. And Trent's influence isn't completely bad: thanks to Trent, who drags Mike out of his lonely apartment, Mike meets the Heather Graham character.

The point of it all? You have to be yourself, but being who you are won't work with everyone and a combination of approaches--Mike's down-home honesty and Trent's go get 'em energy--work best. You have to be patient and stick it out. Things will eventually click if you hang in there. And never forget that everyone's in the same, sinking boat. At the end of the day, cocky Trent and shy Mike were haunting the same bars and parties with the same results. (Just because Trent got girls to sleep with him didn't mean he found true love. It is fair to say, however, that Trent minded his loneliness less, free spirit that he was.) It doesn't matter who you are: true love is a matter of luck, timing, and patience.

And, by the way, perhaps the truest part of the movie was this: you won't forget that special someone from your past until you meet someone new. So get to it, don't sit around, and dramatically lower your expectations until finally, to your utter disbelief, Mr. or Mrs. Right appears.