The Strawberry Nose

Corgi Lemonade

Being in need of money, I resorted to my one career choice that really seemed to pay off when I was in elementary school. I decided to re-open my lemonade stand. True, such an undertaking was challenged by the fact that I'm twenty three years old, have a mustache and am married, but somewhere deep inside of me I knew that I could pull it off.

Realizing that I needed a hook for the overwhelmingly Mexican populace of Visalia, I stole the family dog and promptly got to work on my sign for "Corgi Lemonade." I didn't quite think about whether people would question if by "Corgi Lemonade" I really meant "Corgi Pee In Styrofoam Cups," but I assumed that the matter would be pushed out their minds once they laid their eyes on the adorable furry mess that we call Charlie.



Well, after three hours and a scorching sunburn, I had made a total of three dollars. It might not sound like a lot, but that's at least 12 quarters. Which still isn't a lot, but it's something. Maybe not much, and certainly not enough to reason with Beth that it was a good idea, but it was something nonetheless. Charlie meanwhile kept busy by barking at the passing cars and gobbling honey roasted sunflower seeds while making distinct pig sounds.

I'm not sure why I was so dedicated to the idea. I guess it was just something I decided I had to do. In any case, it was a good way to spend a Saturday.

Drive Angry - Movie Review

Drive Angry
**---
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The experience of watching Drive Anrgy is just about the same as standing in the gun section of Wall-Mart for two hours. You'll find yourself seeing lots of balding fat men wearing sweaty t-shirts with stretched American Flags emblazoned on the center, and probably intermittently yelling "F*&% YEAH!" for no particular reason, except that they can, and that's really the only reason Drive Angry exists. It was made because somebody can, and also because somebody will also pay to see it. Like me for instance.

I for one watched Drive Angry in an empty theater while eating Taco Bell that I sneaked in under my jacket. I would recommend you do the same, if only the 3D effects didn't make me want to puke partially digested Cheesy Gordita Crunch into my lap. Drive Angry is a very bad movie, made to be so, but still, really quite bad. This is a film that hopes to evoke the golden age of cinema known as the grindhouse era, which really only exists because people have always been making bad movies and were once doing so on very small budgets, and apparently fake blood is cheap. Now we have 3D. So imagine how much better this era is. Oh wait, they've had 3D for a while now, haven't they?

Well, this fine film stars Ghost Rider, I mean Nicholas Cage, who reprises his role as an escapee from hell to avenge his daughter's death and save his infant granddaughter from being sacrificed by a group of red-neck satanic worshipers. If that doesn't make much sense to you, don't worry, nothing makes sense. The film is a veritable minefield of exploding plot-holes. Or should I say POT-holes! Get it? Drive Angry? I'll let myself out.

Well, the first hole I should specify is that for a film entitled "Drive Angry," Nicholas Cage does a surprisingly small amount of driving angry. In fact, he's not very angry, mostly just mildly inconvenienced that he has to drop his cigar and bottle of Jack to start shooting a group of men armed with whips, chains, and a tazer. I should note, he doesn't drop the woman he is currently engaging in intercourse with. For anyone who hasn't seen Shoot 'Em Up, this is pretty great, for people who have however, they will immediately spend most of the time after this scene thinking about how great that movie was.

As Nick Cage continues his odyssey chasing down a satanic leader who has a penchant for wearing Willy Wonka's jacket and a pentagram necklace (of which he is repeatedly stabbed by throughout the film), he meets the scantily clad Piper who hops into the front seat with a surprising amount of eagerness. Occasionally she may ask a perfectly valid question, such as something along the lines of "How did you just get shot in the head, have a distinct bullet hole in your eye, but are somehow still alive?" which is only resolved by Nicholas Cage saying, "The bullet's still in there. I CAN FEEL IT." How does some of this dialogue take place while they are driving on a bridge that seems to extend endlessly throughout an additional fight scene? I guess now I'm the one asking too many questions.

I should also note that this film includes a diverse range of reaction shots, with most of them occurring awkwardly. What did I expect the woman who had terrible gun-fight sex with Nicholas Cage to say when she was discovered by the cops the next day? Lord only knows, but somehow that was simultaneously exactly and not at all what I expected.

Cage is followed by a mysterious character named "The Accountant," (played by the very good William Fichtner) who, although I assume is perfectly aware that Nicholas Cage can be shot in the head yet still survive, nevertheless convinces police (by repeatedly showing a fake FBI badge) that they should try to shoot him to death. Does any of this make sense? No. But it does happen in 3D, occurs mostly in slow-motion, and involves numerous exploding limbs. So it's still pretty satisfying.

By no means should this movie be watched alone. This is something made for those late nights when you and your friends need something to talk about. It's one of those films that if you're laughing at it, then really, you're just laughing with it, and if you are actually laughing with it, then you're probably missing the point. As such, for a bad movie, it's almost perfect.

Opening Night

At some point in every man's life, there comes a moment where he has to say, "Screw it. I'm walking home." For me that moment came on opening night of my play. Although I wasn't paid in cash for my performance, I did receive a large tub of jelly beans and a single rose, which I heartily accepted with an air of excitement.

I took both of my gifts along with me only to stand in front of the theater wondering where in the world my ride was. Had I known my ride was still in Fresno, clubbing with his cousins and apparently taking shots off of scantily clad women, I probably would have taken matters into my own hands much sooner, but after circling the block for two hours I had to realize I was on my own.

I had no cell phone, after leaving it with my wife who had left that morning for a trip to Los Angeles, and after paying fifty cents to a pay phone that had apparently been disconnected in the early 1990's, I realized I had no way to contact anyone on the outside world. A few trips to the receptionist at a nearby hotel proved useless after realizing that I had no knowledge of my in-laws phone number. So I continued to wait.

Somewhere, deep in my mind, I rationalized that my situation would be resolved in the same way my situations of being lost in a supermarket were resolved as a child. I would simply wait in the same exact spot until someone realized that I was missing. And maybe cry. Around midnight I began to realize that this was not the same situation.

At this time a friendly black man approached me and, laughing to himself, said in a raspy voice, "Boy's got a single rose for a lady! All you need is one my man! All you need is one!"

I laughed back and nodded, slightly hoping this was enough of a reply. It wasn't.

"Girl's always ask for a dozen, but you know what happens? They die, my man! They die!"

"Ha, I know what you mean." I said, quickly nodding while slowly backing away.

"Say my man, I only have six dollars and my car needs gas. You think you could spare a few bucks?"

Realizing I had only two dollars in my wallet and that this guy probably didn't own a car, I apologized and started walking home.

Although I've spent some time in New York, here it's a bit harder to find a taxi. Also, I'm cheap. Really cheap. So I never really wanted to find one in the first place. It wouldn't be until the next day that I would find out that the distance between my theater and home was just about four and a half miles, which to a reasonably in-shape person is perfectly fine, but to someone who prefers to play video games and uses stumbleupon is basically the same as the Oregon Trail. Would I end up with dysentery? Only time could tell...

The town I live in is mostly known as the agricultural capitol of California, so I was surprised to come across a guy twirling fire within the first three blocks of main street.

"Wow. That guy is crazy!" I thought. While I held a jug of jelly beans, a single rose, and was wearing heavy makeup and eye-liner.

I continued walking, and having been without food for a mere few hours I already began hallucinating that the person walking behind me, who was blasting techno through their headphones, was not only following me but was playing their music to the exact pace of my feet.

About half-way I decided, probably poorly, that if I was going to go through with this that I might as well be mildly intoxicated and bought a beer at 7-Eleven. Still wearing eye-liner.

Now, slightly intoxicated, and dehydrated from said intoxication, the trip slowly became less scary, then more exciting, and then as a result, a little more scary again.

Nevertheless, I made it home. It's a difficult realization, understanding that you really need someone else to count on when times are hard, but at least I'm glad I made it back safely when I realized that I could make it home on my own. Next time though I'll be sure that there are two cell phones in order before I leave.

Laser Koala Escapes From Tron

I realized that I never got to post the Christmas gift I made for Beth.

I really wanted to make something that says, "I love you" while also saying "I also love lasers." I think this was a perfect middle ground. So here it is. I call this work: Laser Koala Escapes From Tron.

Behold!

The Illusionist - Movie Review

The Illusionist
*****
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I once watched a magician pass a rubber band directly through another, and although I know it was probably a simple trick, for the life of me I have no idea how he did it. Especially when I held the other rubber band myself. The art of close up magic lies not in the great reveal, but in the technique itself, which lies predominantly in the subdued hand of it's executor. We are not so encumbered by how the rabbit came out of the hat, as to how the rabbit came into our line of sight without our perception of it. It's really about the slight of hand. The Illusionist is one of those rare films that focuses entirely not upon a trick based entirely upon the perspective of the viewer, but upon how the illusion was created by the manipulator. Perhaps manipulator is too harsh of a word...

Here we are granted the illusion of a provider, or a father figure, who grants his follower with whatever she so desires, as long as she does not require the father himself to provide his insight. After all, a magician never reveals his secrets. For her he provides her shoes, her clothing, her food, and yet he remains somewhat of a mystery. How strange it seems that he works a second job as a caretaker for the automobiles of the wealthy, miraculously removing oil stains with the most obvious equipment at his disposal, be that rain itself. And yes, he sells out, using his talents to sell brassieres and stockings in store front windows. Do his actions justify the dismissal of his follower? We may say no, but success for some may be defined as otherwise.

L'Illusionniste is an animated film unlike any that you might have seen. It requires no real subtitles or audible language, and unlike it's predecessor The Triplets of Belleville, it requires no surreal visuals to engage it's audience. This is a film that is based upon the subtleties of human interaction. If you were to attend a class in animation you would probably be asked to animate a rock. I think if you were to ask the director of this film, Sylvain Chomet, you would find that there are a great deal of subtleties you would never have thought of.

The Illusionist in this film is no hero or villain, in reality he does no harm. He is never revealed to be authentic, nor a fake, he simply is presented as a genuine showman who presents himself as he is. As with any illusion, the question as to it's authenticity is placed within our hands.

Buried - Movie Review

Buried
*****
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Would I be giving too much away if I said that after watching Buried I definitely considered crying in the shower? Or maybe punching a wall? Or maybe punching a hole in the shower wall and then having to explain to Beth through the hole in the wall why I was crying in the shower in the first place? I don't think it's too much of a spoiler. It's just more of a fair warning. Buried is one of the most intense films I have seen, and it takes place entirely within a 9 foot box.

This is a story of Paul, who has found himself buried alive in a coffin in Iraq. All he has at his disposal is a cell phone, a lighter (which I personally wouldn't have used so much in an oxygen limited environment) and a surprising amount of deadly snakes. This is certainly a "what would you do" situation, and frankly Paul makes the most of it. He calls the FBI, his wife, his work (to even call in the day off), but somehow he still has to go the extra mile, and a few miles after that, and then get called back to be told he has quite a few miles left to go.

Buried knows exactly where you as a viewer would take it, and then takes it further than you would expect. That is to say, this is a smart thriller. I have seen films that multiply the set-pieces by two dozen and still feel less intense, yet Buried makes it work. You might expect an "O. Henry" ending, as I did, but the one you find might be even more ironic than you would expect. In a better world Ryan Reynolds would be nominated for an Oscar for this. This is the kind of role some actors would dream for, and Reynolds plays it perfectly.

I admire films like Buried, which use their limitations in setting and content to intensify the drama of the situation at hand. It takes a great deal of creativity and ingenuity to make something like this simultaneously exciting and different, but it works. This is a very intense, and extremely involving film. Whether or not you're happy by the end doesn't negotiate your engagement in the journey.