Well, here I am back in England where it's cold, rainy and dark. However the Christmas spirit is in full effect and drunkenly wandering around the streets of London last night made me realise what a beautiful city I live on the doorstep of.
Anyway, enough of that. Here is part one of The Star Wars Holiday Special - a two-hour xmas television event that aired back in 1977 (after 'A New Hope' became the biggest grossing film of all time). Words cannot begin to describe how hilariously shit this thing is, however when George Lucas himself says "If I had the time and a hammer, I would track down every copy of that show and smash it" you know it's going to be bad. After all, this is the same man who put out "A Phantom Menace".
Enough from me, just sit back and enjoy the brilliance...
JB.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
More Frames...
So, this week I have managed to skulk myself into not one, but two free screenings of Christmas blockbusters - and by blockbusters I mean highly anticipated, mega-budget, 3-D spectaculars. The results, folks, have been interesting.
First up "The Hobbit". Now, I am a self-confessed Lord of the Rings maniac, therefore I could not have been wetter with anticipation over this film...at first. Now, as seems to always happen around the actual release time of a film I'm into, I found myself not being that fussed by the whole affair. I suddenly fell into the old "it's not gonna be as good as the first lot" way of thinking. However, last night, as soon as the opening titles began I found myself giddy as a lovesick schoolgirl. The rest of the three hours was absolute, open-mouthed, fan-boy bliss. I thought it was out-bloody-standing.
Except one thing.
For anyone who doesn't know, Peter Jackson decided to shoot the entire Hobbit Trilogy digitally at 48 frames per second. For anyone who doesn't know what on earth that means, the frame rate required to achieve live motion has always been traditionally 24fps, which of course came from film passing through light at a certain speed to achieve the art of "motion pictures". Shooting at twice the frame rate, in theory, should make the image clearer and almost entirely eradicate the problem of motion blur, which happens when cameras whip around too fast etc. One problem though, it looks terrible.
You see, I consider the first LOTR batch to be some of the most visually stunning films ever made. Not once did I, or do I, find myself thinking "god, if only this bloody motion blur wasn't there I'd be loving this". No, instead I just involuntarily let out the sound "weeeeeee" at various intervals. But there were long stretches of The Hobbit where I found myself removed from the action purely because of the 48 frames thing. Some action sequences look exactly, and I mean EXACTLY, like a video game. A massive disappointment.
The upside of this shooting format was the actual act of camera motion. When it moves, you really do move with it (as apparently evidenced by the amount of people complaining of motion sickness at advanced screenings) which, I must admit, is quite a thrill. I just wish people would stop relying on gimmicks or technological tricks to tell a story. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Upon leaving the cinema, my first thought was "I would love to see that again, at 24 frames and NOT in 3-D"
However, there is another side to that argument and that side is represented by Ang Lee's "Life of Pi". Again, after seeing the trailer, my ignorant idiot side immediately dismissed this film as 'green-screen shite' and I had no desire to see it whatsoever. As luck would have it though, I got into a free screening on Monday night. I was mildly curious purely for the fact that A) it was Ang Lee, who is a bloody good director and B) I couldn't remember the last time I went into a film knowing absolutely nothing about it. What followed completely blew my little mind.
This was also in 3-D (only the second film I'd ever watched in that format) and immediately I realised I was in for a treat. From the opening shot this film is a visual feast. From there it goes on to be one of the most spectacular things I've ever seen in the cinema, if not the most. I have never seen anything like it. At night I closed my eyes and still had the sensation of being in the ocean. Incredible. Of course it helped that the story was fascinating and the lead performance (from an unknown Indian kid) was nothing short of brilliant.
But that's my point, see. I knew I had one. My point is that technology is all well and good if used correctly. In the case of Peter Jackson, the technology as hand was used magnificently to create Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit needed not anything beyond that. Because all the technology in the world can't save a bad story (George Lucas, I'm looking at you...) but it can help a good one massively, like Life of Pi, but the story should never be the special effects, which it was with Avatar, it is with all the Transformers shithouses and almost became with The Hobbit. Point is, the story should always come first. Yes, that was me - a so far unproven talent of any kind - berating some of the more successful directors in history. You did read that right and I am aware of the 'those in glass houses' theory. However, it's my bloody blog and I'll say what I want!
I'm off to play with my precious.
JB.
Except one thing.
For anyone who doesn't know, Peter Jackson decided to shoot the entire Hobbit Trilogy digitally at 48 frames per second. For anyone who doesn't know what on earth that means, the frame rate required to achieve live motion has always been traditionally 24fps, which of course came from film passing through light at a certain speed to achieve the art of "motion pictures". Shooting at twice the frame rate, in theory, should make the image clearer and almost entirely eradicate the problem of motion blur, which happens when cameras whip around too fast etc. One problem though, it looks terrible.
You see, I consider the first LOTR batch to be some of the most visually stunning films ever made. Not once did I, or do I, find myself thinking "god, if only this bloody motion blur wasn't there I'd be loving this". No, instead I just involuntarily let out the sound "weeeeeee" at various intervals. But there were long stretches of The Hobbit where I found myself removed from the action purely because of the 48 frames thing. Some action sequences look exactly, and I mean EXACTLY, like a video game. A massive disappointment.
The upside of this shooting format was the actual act of camera motion. When it moves, you really do move with it (as apparently evidenced by the amount of people complaining of motion sickness at advanced screenings) which, I must admit, is quite a thrill. I just wish people would stop relying on gimmicks or technological tricks to tell a story. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Upon leaving the cinema, my first thought was "I would love to see that again, at 24 frames and NOT in 3-D"
This was also in 3-D (only the second film I'd ever watched in that format) and immediately I realised I was in for a treat. From the opening shot this film is a visual feast. From there it goes on to be one of the most spectacular things I've ever seen in the cinema, if not the most. I have never seen anything like it. At night I closed my eyes and still had the sensation of being in the ocean. Incredible. Of course it helped that the story was fascinating and the lead performance (from an unknown Indian kid) was nothing short of brilliant.
But that's my point, see. I knew I had one. My point is that technology is all well and good if used correctly. In the case of Peter Jackson, the technology as hand was used magnificently to create Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit needed not anything beyond that. Because all the technology in the world can't save a bad story (George Lucas, I'm looking at you...) but it can help a good one massively, like Life of Pi, but the story should never be the special effects, which it was with Avatar, it is with all the Transformers shithouses and almost became with The Hobbit. Point is, the story should always come first. Yes, that was me - a so far unproven talent of any kind - berating some of the more successful directors in history. You did read that right and I am aware of the 'those in glass houses' theory. However, it's my bloody blog and I'll say what I want!
I'm off to play with my precious.
JB.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Tunes Currently Pickling My Onion
2) Negative Creep - Nirvana
3) Three Days Later - De La Soul
4) Go - Pearl Jam
5) Lovely Day - Bill Withers
6) Rabbia e Tarantella - Ennio Morricone
7) Inside My Love - Minnie Ripperton
8) Guerilla Monsoon Rap - Talib Kweli
9) Dead Sea - The Lumineers
10) The Door - Turin Brakes
JB.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Quote of the Day
"Since I broke up with my girlfriend, I'm looking on the bright side of things. It's been good for my career. I'm a driven man now. I'm driven by a fantasy that the girl who I loved more than anything in the world, will one day be living in a trailer park in Oklahoma. She's gonna have nine naked children with rickets who bring home dead animals from the side of the road for dinner. She's married to a 600-pound ex-welder with fur on his back who drinks warm beer, beats the children and watches Dukes of Hazzard every night...and has to have it explained to him.
One night he's gonna be making love to her and his heart's gonna explode and she'll be trapped under six-hundred pounds of flaccid, fish-belly, cellulite shifting like the tides of the ocean as blood and phlegm and bile and chomped tobacco pours out of his mouth and nose and into her face. And just before she drowns in that chunky puddle of afterbirth, she turns to the TV and sees me on The Tonight Show."
-- Bill Hicks
Friday, December 7, 2012
Absurd Rap Lyrics: #2,097
"Dead in the middle of little Italy, little did we know that we riddled two middle men who didn't do diddley..."
Big Pun - "Twinz (Deep Cover '98)"
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
The Book of Face
So, after much bitching and whining from my friends and family, I decided to re-instate my facebook account. Initially I was most reticent to do this as I felt my initial point, whatever that was, was being proven and being proven well. I will not lie my friends, I took untold pleasure from saying to people "Sorry, luv, I'm not on facebook.....now smell this hanky"
After getting my account back, at first things proceeded much the same as they did before. I barely even checked my account, it was almost as if I didn't even have an account, certainly not one that I cared about. In fact, the only time I would ever even log in would be if I received an email from someone. The battle for my collected conscience, it seemed, had been won.
That was then. This is now.
Now, about a month later, I find myself - twitching and crouching like Gollum in his cave - almost involuntarily logging in to the site. Every time I've got a free few seconds, some demon takes possession of my being and forces my reluctant fingers to type my username and password, completely against my will. Every logical part of my brain knows there is nothing to be found there. No nourishment whatsoever. None. Not spiritually, emotionally, physically (well....let's not go that far), nothing. However I can do absolutely nothing about it. It's got me and I don't know what to do but delete my account and rid myself of this terrible curse once and for all.
I mean, and this is just one example, I logged in this morning to find at least 53 updates talking about snow. Fucking SNOW! I can feel myself becoming dumber by the second. I'm tempted to start using heroin to compensate. Not only would facebook become suddenly far less important, but there would also be all manor of medical help available should I ever wish to quit. Mark my words, people, for I am certain, many many years from now, it will be revealed that this whole thing was created by government mind control experts to keep the masses docile, apathetic and thus less likely to revolt. The enemy has many spies...
JB.
P.S - I'm not sure, but I think it's snowing in England.
After getting my account back, at first things proceeded much the same as they did before. I barely even checked my account, it was almost as if I didn't even have an account, certainly not one that I cared about. In fact, the only time I would ever even log in would be if I received an email from someone. The battle for my collected conscience, it seemed, had been won.
That was then. This is now.
Now, about a month later, I find myself - twitching and crouching like Gollum in his cave - almost involuntarily logging in to the site. Every time I've got a free few seconds, some demon takes possession of my being and forces my reluctant fingers to type my username and password, completely against my will. Every logical part of my brain knows there is nothing to be found there. No nourishment whatsoever. None. Not spiritually, emotionally, physically (well....let's not go that far), nothing. However I can do absolutely nothing about it. It's got me and I don't know what to do but delete my account and rid myself of this terrible curse once and for all.
I mean, and this is just one example, I logged in this morning to find at least 53 updates talking about snow. Fucking SNOW! I can feel myself becoming dumber by the second. I'm tempted to start using heroin to compensate. Not only would facebook become suddenly far less important, but there would also be all manor of medical help available should I ever wish to quit. Mark my words, people, for I am certain, many many years from now, it will be revealed that this whole thing was created by government mind control experts to keep the masses docile, apathetic and thus less likely to revolt. The enemy has many spies...
JB.
P.S - I'm not sure, but I think it's snowing in England.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Mired In Muck
Good day fellow Earth dwellers,
Once again (and I'm aware there is a recurring theme developing here) this blog has been sorely neglected, leaving my hordes of salivating fans hungry and desperate for new material. So, to the many thousands of you that have been in contact with not just myself but the world's media, I wholeheartedly apologise. However, in my defence, it has been a very busy time. When I'm not editing reels for the actors of this town, I am home and editing our sketch show - the mighty "Starving In Hollywood". Now, when writing and creating said show, I thought "oh, this will be easy, each item will be a pleasurable summer's breeze to edit. Then it will be simply a matter of putting them side by side and Robert's your mother's brother". This has proven to NOT be the case.
You see, when creating fake reality shows, games shows, commercials, music videos, news reports etc etc etc I had sorely neglected the need for Motion Graphics. Motion Graphics? What the feck is that? I hear you hark. Well, friends, it is essentially the combination of visual arts, animation and sound design which is, to my feeble brain, an abominable nightmare to edit. You see, it's not like editing a film, which is difficult enough, where there is a single narrative, and merely a manipulation of image and sound to create a story. Here you are doing that EVERY SINGLE TIME you begin a new sketch. Each one requires an almost ungodly amount of title cards, animated images, flashy, snazzy cuts, and all manner of visual and audio special effects.
Some people reading that may think...piece of piss, what's he complaining about?...and to that I say, CALL ME. With immediate effect, as someone who actually knows how to do this stuff would be wonderful. However, as you might expect, these Motion Graphics chaps are in high demand and very short supply. So the burden has mostly fell on the shoulders of yours truly. Now, I'm not saying I mind, but yet again I find myself hopelessly in over my head and learning everything on the fly. The good thing is that it is all learnable and all of it is learnable in the bowels of youtube, where any question I may have is swiftly answered by a 12 year-old with a nifty "how to" video. Indeed it has been these interactions with the younglings of the interweb (take that how you will) which have slowly restored my faith in humanity. I think it speaks to the very best of human nature that these people spend hours toiling away finding out how to decipher this stuff, then have the good grace to put their findings online for simpletons like me to borrow and learn from. Those people should be the fibre of our society and lauded as such.
The good news at the end of all this is that we are getting closer and closer to having a rather excellent series on our hands (at least...it makes me laugh) and something that will stand forever. I suppose that's the beauty of art isn't it? No matter how much toil and tyranny one suffers in creating it, when it's done, it's there forever - a capsule in time. It matters not that that time capsule may feature items such as "Willy Circus", "Dingo vs. Baby" and "Little Abortion Annie" it is still a time capsule nonetheless.
Love and other shite.
JB.
Once again (and I'm aware there is a recurring theme developing here) this blog has been sorely neglected, leaving my hordes of salivating fans hungry and desperate for new material. So, to the many thousands of you that have been in contact with not just myself but the world's media, I wholeheartedly apologise. However, in my defence, it has been a very busy time. When I'm not editing reels for the actors of this town, I am home and editing our sketch show - the mighty "Starving In Hollywood". Now, when writing and creating said show, I thought "oh, this will be easy, each item will be a pleasurable summer's breeze to edit. Then it will be simply a matter of putting them side by side and Robert's your mother's brother". This has proven to NOT be the case.
 |
| Never trust your television, kids. |
You see, when creating fake reality shows, games shows, commercials, music videos, news reports etc etc etc I had sorely neglected the need for Motion Graphics. Motion Graphics? What the feck is that? I hear you hark. Well, friends, it is essentially the combination of visual arts, animation and sound design which is, to my feeble brain, an abominable nightmare to edit. You see, it's not like editing a film, which is difficult enough, where there is a single narrative, and merely a manipulation of image and sound to create a story. Here you are doing that EVERY SINGLE TIME you begin a new sketch. Each one requires an almost ungodly amount of title cards, animated images, flashy, snazzy cuts, and all manner of visual and audio special effects.
 |
| A good, healthy, political debate |
Some people reading that may think...piece of piss, what's he complaining about?...and to that I say, CALL ME. With immediate effect, as someone who actually knows how to do this stuff would be wonderful. However, as you might expect, these Motion Graphics chaps are in high demand and very short supply. So the burden has mostly fell on the shoulders of yours truly. Now, I'm not saying I mind, but yet again I find myself hopelessly in over my head and learning everything on the fly. The good thing is that it is all learnable and all of it is learnable in the bowels of youtube, where any question I may have is swiftly answered by a 12 year-old with a nifty "how to" video. Indeed it has been these interactions with the younglings of the interweb (take that how you will) which have slowly restored my faith in humanity. I think it speaks to the very best of human nature that these people spend hours toiling away finding out how to decipher this stuff, then have the good grace to put their findings online for simpletons like me to borrow and learn from. Those people should be the fibre of our society and lauded as such.
 |
| Perfectly normal... |
The good news at the end of all this is that we are getting closer and closer to having a rather excellent series on our hands (at least...it makes me laugh) and something that will stand forever. I suppose that's the beauty of art isn't it? No matter how much toil and tyranny one suffers in creating it, when it's done, it's there forever - a capsule in time. It matters not that that time capsule may feature items such as "Willy Circus", "Dingo vs. Baby" and "Little Abortion Annie" it is still a time capsule nonetheless.
Love and other shite.
JB.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Lyrics To Live By
"So if you see me,
Walking around in the streets of your town,
Don't feel for me,
I've got more peace of mind than you ever shall find"
"Last Clown" - Turin Brakes
Walking around in the streets of your town,
Don't feel for me,
I've got more peace of mind than you ever shall find"
"Last Clown" - Turin Brakes
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Erection Day
Today is Election Day here in the States and for the first time in my entire history I find myself a nervous, shivering wreck. God, if you are up there, I beg you with all my heart and soul not to let Mitt Romney win this poll and reap damnation upon us all.
I used to think all politicians were the same, simply slick corporate mouthpieces with nothing on their agenda further than becoming deludedly powerful beyond measure, furthering their fame and creating a 'legacy' for themselves (most often by heaping misery on other, less important parts of the world). However, this time around I now know that to not be true. On the one hand you have Obama, a man who - judging by his policies - actually cares about his people and this country's future, both morally and legislatively, and on the other you have Romney. A fucking lunatic.
Not the most balanced argument I've ever made but this time around, for the first time, I am sitting through an election that has tangible issues which would affect my own personal life (along with everyone around me) quite drastically if they went one way or the other. More than that however, the precedents that would be set if Romney wins and fulfills his campaign promise(s) would plummet this country into the beginnings of real fascism. An actual, explicit "do this or we will jail you" state of affairs. The implications of these agendas are too terrifying to imagine, thus it is my eternal hope that a good, noble man is given four more years to do his bidding. No he's not perfect and yes he is still a politician but given the alternative, he has, in my eyes at least, now been promoted to defender of all things righteous and, more importantly, SANE.
For the love muffins and bagels, please everyone get out and vote. I can't, but for the first time in my life, I really really wish I could.
Peace and love,
John.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Friday, October 26, 2012
These Eyes - The Guess Who
When it's obnoxiously hot (90 degrees in late October!), there are worse tunes to drive around LA to:
JB
JB
Thursday, October 25, 2012
10 Underrated Classics
Evening all, here is my list of 10 films which, despite being utterly brilliant, get no props at all, from anyone....ever. I highly suggest you go out and watch with immediate effect.
1) Jackie Brown (Quentin Tarantino, 1997) - Everyone's least favourite Tarantino film is nothing short of brilliant. Great acting, beautifully directed and one of the best soundtracks you're likely to hear. Also, features one of the best DeNiro performances of the 1990's and the line "I hate to be the type of n*gga that do a n*gga a favour and then bam, hit the n*gga up for a favour in return, but I gots to be that type of n*gga". Marvelous.
2) Unbreakable (M. Night Shyamalan, 2000) - Got shat on for not being the next "Sixth Sense" but this is actually a rather genius re-telling of a superhero story, and Bruce Willis gives one of his best performances in it. Great film.
3) Being There (Hal Ashby, 1979) - One of the great comedic performances of all time from the absolutely deadpan Peter Sellers, playing the savant-like Chance - who, after the death of his boss, is forced to live in the real world for the very first time. Forest Gump properly ripped this film off (to great effect, I must admit) so if you like the "idiot man-child" genre, look no further my friends.
4) The Running Man (Paul Michael Glaser, 1987) - Or, as it's now known, The Hunger Games. This was by far the best Schwarzenegger flick of the 80's and is, in my opinion a very well-done commentary on a world where entertainment reigns supreme. Also gets eerily more prophetic every time I turn on ABC and Shark Tank (or any other reality show) comes on. Plus Arnold is in top, top form.
5) White Men Can't Jump (Ron Shelton, 1992) - Features a dazzling array of Mum jokes which, frankly, kept me going through my teenage years and a riveting buddy story centered around street basketball in LA. This film is absolutely hilarious, and I defy anyone not to get involved in the action sequences. Makes me want to go out and shoot hoops immediately.
6) The King Of Comedy (Martin Scorcese, 1983) - This could take the top spot for most underrated film of all time. Go and watch it. Now. A work of genius.
7) The Conversation (Francis Ford Coppola, 1974) - Coppola made this gem between making part 1 and 2 of The Godfather series, which one might be tempted to call a bit of a "hot streak". This film, about a surveillance expert who gets in too deep on his latest case, is tense, dark, and very strange. In fact it's almost a bit of an independent art-house type affair, something old Francis is definitely not usually associated with. Also, a must if you're into sound design....which I'm guessing you're not.
8) Road To Perdition (Sam Mendes, 2002) - One of the greatest gangster films ever made, this film was pretty much written off for casting all around nice guy Tom Hanks as cold-blooded assassin Michael Sullivan, however miss this film at your peril. It features Hanks in fine form, and Daniel Craig being absolutely mental and, most of all, the legendary Paul Newman giving my favourite performance of his life as the leader of the Chicago Irish Mob. The cinematography is breathtaking, as is Thomas Newman's score. Should have won every award under the sun. Didn't win shit. Annoying.
9) The Game (David Fincher, 1997) - The Fincher film that no-one ever mentions. Michael Douglas stars in this bonkers film about a corporate fat cat who signs himself up for a service that promises to give him the thrill of his life, only for his life to then completely go down the shitter. The twist at the end is worth your time alone.
10) Being John Malkovich (Spike Jonze, 1999) - Hands down one of the most certifiably insane stories ever committed to celluloid. I personally believe that anyone who aspires to one day become a screenwriter watch this film and see just what can be done when's one's imagination is left to roam free. Half the film takes place in Malkovich's head and there's even a bit where Malkovich enters his own conscience. Madness! Absolutely classic film.
There you have it folks. Netflix should be your next click.
JB.
1) Jackie Brown (Quentin Tarantino, 1997) - Everyone's least favourite Tarantino film is nothing short of brilliant. Great acting, beautifully directed and one of the best soundtracks you're likely to hear. Also, features one of the best DeNiro performances of the 1990's and the line "I hate to be the type of n*gga that do a n*gga a favour and then bam, hit the n*gga up for a favour in return, but I gots to be that type of n*gga". Marvelous.
 |
| "Go on...pull my finger" |
3) Being There (Hal Ashby, 1979) - One of the great comedic performances of all time from the absolutely deadpan Peter Sellers, playing the savant-like Chance - who, after the death of his boss, is forced to live in the real world for the very first time. Forest Gump properly ripped this film off (to great effect, I must admit) so if you like the "idiot man-child" genre, look no further my friends.
4) The Running Man (Paul Michael Glaser, 1987) - Or, as it's now known, The Hunger Games. This was by far the best Schwarzenegger flick of the 80's and is, in my opinion a very well-done commentary on a world where entertainment reigns supreme. Also gets eerily more prophetic every time I turn on ABC and Shark Tank (or any other reality show) comes on. Plus Arnold is in top, top form.
5) White Men Can't Jump (Ron Shelton, 1992) - Features a dazzling array of Mum jokes which, frankly, kept me going through my teenage years and a riveting buddy story centered around street basketball in LA. This film is absolutely hilarious, and I defy anyone not to get involved in the action sequences. Makes me want to go out and shoot hoops immediately.
 |
| "Your mother....etc." |
7) The Conversation (Francis Ford Coppola, 1974) - Coppola made this gem between making part 1 and 2 of The Godfather series, which one might be tempted to call a bit of a "hot streak". This film, about a surveillance expert who gets in too deep on his latest case, is tense, dark, and very strange. In fact it's almost a bit of an independent art-house type affair, something old Francis is definitely not usually associated with. Also, a must if you're into sound design....which I'm guessing you're not.
8) Road To Perdition (Sam Mendes, 2002) - One of the greatest gangster films ever made, this film was pretty much written off for casting all around nice guy Tom Hanks as cold-blooded assassin Michael Sullivan, however miss this film at your peril. It features Hanks in fine form, and Daniel Craig being absolutely mental and, most of all, the legendary Paul Newman giving my favourite performance of his life as the leader of the Chicago Irish Mob. The cinematography is breathtaking, as is Thomas Newman's score. Should have won every award under the sun. Didn't win shit. Annoying.
9) The Game (David Fincher, 1997) - The Fincher film that no-one ever mentions. Michael Douglas stars in this bonkers film about a corporate fat cat who signs himself up for a service that promises to give him the thrill of his life, only for his life to then completely go down the shitter. The twist at the end is worth your time alone.
10) Being John Malkovich (Spike Jonze, 1999) - Hands down one of the most certifiably insane stories ever committed to celluloid. I personally believe that anyone who aspires to one day become a screenwriter watch this film and see just what can be done when's one's imagination is left to roam free. Half the film takes place in Malkovich's head and there's even a bit where Malkovich enters his own conscience. Madness! Absolutely classic film.
 |
| "Malkovich, Malkovich?" |
JB.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Behind The Curtain
Greetings one and all (or, more likely, just one). It has been a while and we have lots to catch up so cut right to the chase.
My life of leisure has come to an end, unfortunately. Meaning, to anyone who doesn't know or doesn't care to, that I have had to get a job once again. The pleasure of living off a commercial has dried up and I am back in the world of the working man. To be fair, the transition hasn't been half as painful as I feared it might be - largely due to the fact that I have a really fun job. Basically I edit reels for actors (see: mainly REALLY attractive women) which is most rewarding and has helped my editing chops no end.
More important than that though was the very recent Hollywood Film Festival which was yet another dose of absolute insanity for yours truly. It began with the screening on Sunday, which was fine. However I find it absolutely unforgivable that a cinema as prestigious as the Arclight could get away with such colossally shite projection. I'm not talking about "oh, it's a bit loud" here, either. The poor people involved with the first film in my program must've felt absolutely dreadful afterwards. Half of their entire film was off the screen - literally the lead actress was cut out of half the film. I would have thrown a major tantrum if that happened to us. Luckily it didn't. What did happen to us was that they began by having it cranked way too loud (which I was secretly loving as most films benefit from such volume), they then realised their mistake and turned it down too fucking low! This coming after there was a problem with every single film before ours. Shocking form. As if it isn't hard enough to clamber your way up the industry ladder...
I digress.
That said, I must say that seeing my film screening at my (now former) favourite cinema was an absolute treat. I felt minor nerves, if any at all, and actually managed to watch my film for the first time without an impending sense of doom coursing through my veins. Instead, as we sat there watching it unfold, I felt a tremendous sense of pride and excitement the likes of which I haven't felt before. When your film is playing in a massive darkened room full of people, it suddenly takes on a life of it's on. You can feel the atmosphere in the room. Friends, it is truly a fecking amazing thing to experience and I can't recommend it highly enough....if you're into that sort of thing. Lot's of people came and offered well wishes afterwards so all in all it went rather well, if I do say so myself. I certainly handled the whole thing a lot better so that is a victory in itself, surely?
Now, as Director of a competing film in the festival, one is privvy to certain benefits. The best one being four VIP Tickets to the next evening's Hollywood Film Awards Gala. I didn't really know what, or indeed who, to expect at this event. Indeed I didn't know what it was until some producer told me that a very rich man essentially wants to be part of "the club" so he throws an annual awards ceremony at the Beverly Hilton for celebrities to bask in their own glory one more time. From that description, I predicted a bottom-feeder Kardashian-fest and began plotting ways to spoil everyone's evening (note: all of my plans involved fecal matter)
However, when we arrived at the Hilton, nothing prepared me for what happened next. Screaming fans. Paparazzi flashes. Velvet Ropes. Red Carpets and general mania engulfed us. A proper Hollywood Event, for want of a better phrase. The peasant in me instantly thought we were in the wrong place and almost stopped the cabbie before he'd gone too far. However, to the entrance we went and, inexplicably, entrance was granted. The rest of the evening was a complete whirl of mega-famous people (including at least three absolute idols of mine...and I do mean idols), lots of free booze and generally feeling like being in an anonymous David-Blaine box with the best view to the weirdest party on earth. Sat at our reserved table, watching this mad, nonsensical award-ceremony unfold before us, I couldn't help thinking "how on earth did this happen?"...home felt a long, long way away. Still, happen it did and I am proud to say that our crew were the last to leave the venue by at least half an hour and we managed to steal multiple bottles of wine, bouquets, menus, programmes and food. Class all the way.
I've been attempting to find some meaning to this whole affair, if only to provide a conclusive paragraph to this post. Yet somehow I can't find the words. Maybe there is no meaning. Maybe sometimes you've just got to sit back and consider yourself a lucky boy to be part of the absurdity. That I do, my good people. That I do.
Peace and love.
Juan.
My life of leisure has come to an end, unfortunately. Meaning, to anyone who doesn't know or doesn't care to, that I have had to get a job once again. The pleasure of living off a commercial has dried up and I am back in the world of the working man. To be fair, the transition hasn't been half as painful as I feared it might be - largely due to the fact that I have a really fun job. Basically I edit reels for actors (see: mainly REALLY attractive women) which is most rewarding and has helped my editing chops no end.
More important than that though was the very recent Hollywood Film Festival which was yet another dose of absolute insanity for yours truly. It began with the screening on Sunday, which was fine. However I find it absolutely unforgivable that a cinema as prestigious as the Arclight could get away with such colossally shite projection. I'm not talking about "oh, it's a bit loud" here, either. The poor people involved with the first film in my program must've felt absolutely dreadful afterwards. Half of their entire film was off the screen - literally the lead actress was cut out of half the film. I would have thrown a major tantrum if that happened to us. Luckily it didn't. What did happen to us was that they began by having it cranked way too loud (which I was secretly loving as most films benefit from such volume), they then realised their mistake and turned it down too fucking low! This coming after there was a problem with every single film before ours. Shocking form. As if it isn't hard enough to clamber your way up the industry ladder...I digress.
That said, I must say that seeing my film screening at my (now former) favourite cinema was an absolute treat. I felt minor nerves, if any at all, and actually managed to watch my film for the first time without an impending sense of doom coursing through my veins. Instead, as we sat there watching it unfold, I felt a tremendous sense of pride and excitement the likes of which I haven't felt before. When your film is playing in a massive darkened room full of people, it suddenly takes on a life of it's on. You can feel the atmosphere in the room. Friends, it is truly a fecking amazing thing to experience and I can't recommend it highly enough....if you're into that sort of thing. Lot's of people came and offered well wishes afterwards so all in all it went rather well, if I do say so myself. I certainly handled the whole thing a lot better so that is a victory in itself, surely?
Now, as Director of a competing film in the festival, one is privvy to certain benefits. The best one being four VIP Tickets to the next evening's Hollywood Film Awards Gala. I didn't really know what, or indeed who, to expect at this event. Indeed I didn't know what it was until some producer told me that a very rich man essentially wants to be part of "the club" so he throws an annual awards ceremony at the Beverly Hilton for celebrities to bask in their own glory one more time. From that description, I predicted a bottom-feeder Kardashian-fest and began plotting ways to spoil everyone's evening (note: all of my plans involved fecal matter)
However, when we arrived at the Hilton, nothing prepared me for what happened next. Screaming fans. Paparazzi flashes. Velvet Ropes. Red Carpets and general mania engulfed us. A proper Hollywood Event, for want of a better phrase. The peasant in me instantly thought we were in the wrong place and almost stopped the cabbie before he'd gone too far. However, to the entrance we went and, inexplicably, entrance was granted. The rest of the evening was a complete whirl of mega-famous people (including at least three absolute idols of mine...and I do mean idols), lots of free booze and generally feeling like being in an anonymous David-Blaine box with the best view to the weirdest party on earth. Sat at our reserved table, watching this mad, nonsensical award-ceremony unfold before us, I couldn't help thinking "how on earth did this happen?"...home felt a long, long way away. Still, happen it did and I am proud to say that our crew were the last to leave the venue by at least half an hour and we managed to steal multiple bottles of wine, bouquets, menus, programmes and food. Class all the way.
I've been attempting to find some meaning to this whole affair, if only to provide a conclusive paragraph to this post. Yet somehow I can't find the words. Maybe there is no meaning. Maybe sometimes you've just got to sit back and consider yourself a lucky boy to be part of the absurdity. That I do, my good people. That I do.
Peace and love.
Juan.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Quote Of The Day
"Look into the eyes of a chicken and you will see real stupidity. It is a kind of bottomless stupidity, a fiendish stupidity. They are the most horrifying, cannibalistic and nightmarish creatures in the world"
-- Werner Herzog
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Tunes Currently Fondling My Inner Thigh
2) More Than This - Roxy Music
3) Waiting In Vain - Bob Marley
4) When You're Smiling - Louis Armstrong
5) Yellow Ledbetter - Pearl Jam
6) So Hardcore - Busta Rhymes
7) Where Is My Mind? - The Pixies
8) Sunday Morning - The Velvet Underground
9) Awake - Electric Guest
10) Caravan - Van Morrison
JB.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
So Close, Yet...
So, a week after a spectacular "Master" related five days and the hangover has officially set in. As I've mentioned previously on these here pages, one of the most difficult aspects of pursuing a career in "the arts" is the comedown. Typically this is directly related to the joys of creation. As in, the tangible joy you feel when creating something you love is soon a distant memory after it's finished. Like any good boozing session, the fallout will carry you through a couple of days but, silently and potently, reality will eventually set back in, usually upon receiving a pile of bills. Thus begins the hangover phase.
This time however it was different. For I was not creating anything. Even worse, I was there, and I mean right there, with those that had created and created at the highest level....right, I'll stop being cryptic....being around famous, successful people made me feel worryingly good and I am thoroughly disliking being relegated back to lowly piss-ant status. There, I said it.
You see, in the film industry, one of the chief perks of being successful - be it as an Actor, Director, Writer, Editor, Producer, whatever - is that you simply just get better treatment than everyone else. It's a painful truth, folks, but having seen it first hand it is a truth nonetheless. Everything is free, you get to go where you please, do what you want and, get to meet and communicate your idols, get to work with whoever you want to and to be around it, as much as it pains me to admit it, felt pretty bloody good. Once you're in, you're in. You know what I mean?
Now, I understand there are several factors to consider. One, me getting into a couple of films, saying hello to a few of my idols (who will never remember me in a million years) and eating some free muffins does not, repeat does not, constitute fame and/or success in any way, shape or form. Two, there is a price to pay for these privileges (for most people, anyway) and that price is fame itself. You can no longer masturbate with your bay window curtains undrawn, or have a peaceful shit on your front lawn. Gone are those days. As Dave Chapelle once said "you can never become un-famous". However, when you're at an International Film Festival, it is like a secret society - where everyone understands each other's plight, casually sipping money-free beverages and discussing their next collaborative masterpiece - and to be right there amongst it all, everything suddenly seemed so real, so feasible, so easy. My dreams were right there in front of me....getting hammered. However, I got only a brief glimpse behind this curtain before being, as those who haven't earned their place there do, unceremoniously tossed back to the gutter. Now it all feels far, far away again. This is the problem.
Now, don't get me wrong, fame is not something I covet at all. It's the success and the whole "once you're in, you're in" thing I'm after. My motto in the past year, one that I've had to batter into my numb, lazy skull, is that nothing is easy in this industry and I do mean literally nothing. The most menial of tasks, like sending a DVD to a festival for screening (as I'm doing now) requires a great deal of time and effort, for reasons which are frankly too dull to get into here (it's to do with projection in case you're interested). Every time you think you've made it over the hump, another one appears twice the size. Of course, it is at these moments where I seek solace in the fact that if it was wasn't monumentally difficult, then everyone would do it. All you can do is get back on the horse and ride. Again, and again, and again.
I don't know what my point is. Sometimes you don't need one. Sometimes it's good to just be pointless.
JB.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Dialogue Of The Day
"God isn't interested in technology. He cares nothing for the microchip or the silicon revolution. Look how he spends his time - forty-three species of Parrot. Nipples for men. Slugs! HE created slugs! They can't hear. They can't speak. They can't operate machinery. Are we not in the hands of a lunatic?"
From "Time Bandits" (1981)
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Formal, Impersonal, Bullet-Point Updates
Here's the latest scoop...
* Saw "The Master" for a second time at a private screening in LA. This time around I was completely blown away. Instead of looking for wasn't there, I focused on what was and what was there was utterly brilliant. Not for everyone though, I'm sure. Also, this time I sat up the front. This is a must. Never have I had a film (and glorious 70MM film) dominate my senses in such a way. Beautiful film.
* My film "Love Is..." got into the Hollywood Film Festival. This is very good news as I'm told this festival is a very good one. Been working on press-kit type stuff. All very surreal.
* "Starving In Hollywood" - the sketch show I've been working on, now has an IndieGoGo campaign. Please, if you feel so inclined, visit the page and give generously. Good and lovely things will come your way if you do. http://www.indiegogo.com/StarvingInHollywood?a=814159
* Watched Clint Eastwood's Speech at the Republican Convention. Absolutely cringe-worthy. Stick to acting, mate. Politics is clearly not your forte.
* This is the most gorgeously weird piece of music I've heard in a while. Fact:
* Found out that Deer have no gall bladders. Who would've known?
End Transmission.
JB.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Master-Baiting in Toronto
Good people of the interweb, I have just returned from my first ever trip to Canada and I am disappointed to say that I did not encounter one flapping head, no beady-eyes, and not a single episode of "Terrence and Philip". However what I did encounter was the 2012 Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), which was absolutely mental. Never have I been to a place where you're happily walking along having a chat and a coffee, when a black suburban pulls up next to you and out steps Johnny Depp...into a throng of screaming fans. It was like that at every turn. Like I say, mental.
Cheers,
I was there to accompany my dear friend, and cast member of my own film, Jennie to the North American premiere of another (and, some may say, better) film she's in, which happened to be none other than Paul Thomas Anderson's "The Master". As we arrived in town on Friday, to say I was a little excited about the event would be grossly ignoring the damp spot forming in my undergarments. I was giddy as a fawn. As the day progressed my excitement slowly crept further and further up the scale until there was nowhere left to go but alcohol-land...and go there I did. It was all free, after all.
By the time all the pre-party and red carpet and screaming fans and famous mugs and VIP status and oddly-named cocktails had settled, it might be a safe assumption to say that I was not in the most coherent state I'd ever been in. Then, all of a sudden, the man himself appeared. PTA took the stage to mass applause, saying a very brief hello before the lights went down and the show began.
What then followed was the single most absurd cinematic experience I had ever witnessed. Here was I, a lowly piss-ant, sitting in this grand old theatre in downtown Toronto, watching the premiere of PTA's new film, sitting among the glitterati. I was severely struggling to simply get over that fact. Luckily the film soon took effect and all that other shite was a distant memory.
In the first five minutes, the first obvious thing that struck me, and I'm sure I'm not alone in saying this, was the absolute gorgeousness of the thing. It was shot on 65mm film (basically an old-school version of IMAX) and projected on 70mm. The results, in a time where film is slowly but surely being phased out, were absolutely astonishing. If it doesn't win every Cinematography award under the sun, I'll eat my hat. For those who think digital is the future (both filming and projection) shame on you. My only gripe being that there weren't more shots of glorious epic landscapes to enjoy in this spectacular format.
In the first five minutes, the first obvious thing that struck me, and I'm sure I'm not alone in saying this, was the absolute gorgeousness of the thing. It was shot on 65mm film (basically an old-school version of IMAX) and projected on 70mm. The results, in a time where film is slowly but surely being phased out, were absolutely astonishing. If it doesn't win every Cinematography award under the sun, I'll eat my hat. For those who think digital is the future (both filming and projection) shame on you. My only gripe being that there weren't more shots of glorious epic landscapes to enjoy in this spectacular format.
The reason for that was the story itself, which is about two-men locked in a mental power struggle. Those two men are the sole focus of the film, so much so in fact that almost every other character who appeared seemed to be soft-focus somehow - just part of the backdrop. Joaquin Phoenix puts in one of the most unhinged, deranged performances of all time, however my opinion was that Philip Seymour Hoffman stole the show. His performance, as the silver-tongued leader of a semi-religious 'group' called The Cause, was the best I've seen him give in a career littered with amazing performances. My only hope is that he'll get the credit he deserves.
When the credits rolled, I felt as if I'd been beaten about the skull. Three days later and I still find myself thinking about it, which in my eyes, is a thing sorely lacking in cinema today. I can't really offer any kind of conclusive "was it good or not" type summary - it was, after all, a VERY strange night - but I will be seeing it again soon, and if any film needed seeing more than once, it's this one. Meanwhile, the below track (from the mighty Jonny Greenwood) sort of sums it all up in the space of four minutes. Enjoy.
Cheers,
JB.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Thursday, August 30, 2012
A Playlist To Help You Fall In Love With...
...one of the greatest bands, in any genre, of all times. Responsible for three (yes, three) of the greatest Hip-Hop records ever made, including my personal favourite - The Low End Theory. I give you...A Tribe Called Quest.
1) Excursions - (The Low End Theory - 1991)
2) Luck Of Lucien - (People's Instinctive Travels... - 1989)
3) Award Tour - (Midnight Marauders - 1993)
4) Buggin' Out - (The Low End Theory - 1991)
5) Bonita Applebum - (People's Instinctive Travels... - 1989)
6) Oh My God - (Midnight Marauders - 1993)
7) Youthful Expression - (People's Instinctive Travels... - 1989)
8) Jazz (We've Got) - (The Low End Theory - 1991)
9) Lyrics to Go - (Midnight Marauders - 1993)
10) Can I Kick It? - (People's Instinctive Travels... - 1989)
11) Check The Rhyme - (The Low End Theory - 1991)
12) Electric Relaxation - (Midnight Marauders - 1993)
13) Scenario - (The Low End Theory - 1991)
14) God Lives Through - (Midnight Marauders - 1993)
Download these tracks and I guarantee aural pleasure beyond words. If you don't enjoy it, you probably don't have a soul.
JB.
1) Excursions - (The Low End Theory - 1991)
2) Luck Of Lucien - (People's Instinctive Travels... - 1989)
3) Award Tour - (Midnight Marauders - 1993)
4) Buggin' Out - (The Low End Theory - 1991)
5) Bonita Applebum - (People's Instinctive Travels... - 1989)
6) Oh My God - (Midnight Marauders - 1993)
7) Youthful Expression - (People's Instinctive Travels... - 1989)
8) Jazz (We've Got) - (The Low End Theory - 1991)
9) Lyrics to Go - (Midnight Marauders - 1993)
10) Can I Kick It? - (People's Instinctive Travels... - 1989)
11) Check The Rhyme - (The Low End Theory - 1991)
12) Electric Relaxation - (Midnight Marauders - 1993)
13) Scenario - (The Low End Theory - 1991)
14) God Lives Through - (Midnight Marauders - 1993)
Download these tracks and I guarantee aural pleasure beyond words. If you don't enjoy it, you probably don't have a soul.
JB.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Starving In Hollywood - Trailer
Here is a promotional teaser for my new sketch show. Enjoy.
The revolution will not be televised.
JB.
The revolution will not be televised.
JB.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Things I Love: Brazil
Anyone who knows me knows I'm a sucker for any depiction of a dystopian future - be it in book, comic, cartoon, song, or indeed, film. I think this morbid fascination stems from my undying love of George Orwell's "1984", which is of course a literary masterpiece. However nothing captures the imagination like a good film.Which brings me to the mighty Terry Gilliam's "Brazil". Filmed in 1984, oddly enough, and released the following year, this is the story of an Orwellian future as told by an esteemed member of the Monty Python clan. The result, as you'd probably expect from that description, is pure madness.
The story follows a lowly file clerk named Sam Lowry (brilliantly played by Jonthan Pryce). Sam works for a large large, centralized company which deals in information. More specifically, it deals in bureaucracy - layers upon unfathomable layers of it. The only joy Sam has in this grim, grey world are his fantastical visions wherein he is a silver-winged flying demi-god, continuously fighting off baddies and saving a beautiful fair maiden. When that same maiden appears in his waking life, his life is sent into an absolutely insane spin, leading him to actively rebel against the nightmare system he inhabits.
There's so much to love about this film: the way it's shot is masterful, the acting is outrageous, the music is hilarious, plus the whole thing hits achingly close to home, as any conversation with your mobile phone company will soon confirm for you. However, what I personally love most about this film is the feel of it. Not once does it feel like anything other than a Terry Gilliam film. The chirpy music set against this abysmal backdrop of depravation and misery, the satire, the irony, and most of all, the production design. You see, this film was made long before CGI existed so people had to build things for actors to inhabit. As a result, you get a certain authenticity which, as a dystopian future fanboy, I absolutely love. Every single minute detail of the film has a purpose, there is not one wasted thing in the frame. Everywhere you look, beyond the action even, you'll find adverts, slogans and posters in the background saying things like "Don't suspect a friend, report him" or "Relax in a panic-free environment". All of these elements make the entire thing feel like a real world. No matter how deranged things get, and trust me they do, you still believe every second of it. Indeed it is a film so rich in detail, nuance and subtlety, it definitely requires more than one viewing. It's also really fecking funny, which helps.
I will admit that if you are not a fan of Terry Gilliam, you should come in with an open mind. Because if nothing else, the man is a true original. Do expect to see men with sinister baby heads, concrete monsters, latex faces and other such absurdities. Also the last half hour is nothing short of absolute insanity. However, if you fancy getting lost for a few hours in a completely different, but sadly not too unfamiliar world, then I cannot recommend this masterpiece highly enough. To coin an oft-used phrase...they just don't make them like this anymore.
JB.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Life Offline
So, it's been a few weeks since my removal of all things social network from my life. There have been some interesting results, which were as follows:
First off, upon the announcement that I was deleting my facebook account (purely so that I could stay in touch with people who wanted to) I was absolutely shocked to find multiple people emailing, texting and generally getting in touch saying things like "is everything alright?". Apparently not wanting to share every detail with the world equates to suicidal maniac in a lot of people's eyes. Not that I don't appreciate the concern, I truly do, but it's fecking facebook, people.
When the day finally came and the account was deactivated, I found myself sporadically breaking out in a cold sweat. It was like suddenly being stranded on a desert island, all alone. Friendless, nameless. However after about 2 hours I realised that there was no dramatic change, life had in fact continued on as normal. I wasn't out of touch with anyone previously in my life and all was good. Instead of spending hours vacantly looking at people's holiday photos, I found myself reading, writing and generally being a much more productive human being.
The only downside thus far has been the arse-ache I've got from my family and friends for being such a 'drama queen' and the fact that there a number of people in my life who I actually care about and enjoy seeing what's going on in their lives. However, that's been my point all along. I now have to resort to actual communication in order to gain said updates (be it skype or just a plain old phone call) -- a far more nourishing and enriching experience.
Therefore I can only conclude that in the battle against the information age, I am winning and winning well. Up yours, Zuckerberg!
JB.
 |
| "Hello? Anyone?" |
When the day finally came and the account was deactivated, I found myself sporadically breaking out in a cold sweat. It was like suddenly being stranded on a desert island, all alone. Friendless, nameless. However after about 2 hours I realised that there was no dramatic change, life had in fact continued on as normal. I wasn't out of touch with anyone previously in my life and all was good. Instead of spending hours vacantly looking at people's holiday photos, I found myself reading, writing and generally being a much more productive human being.
The only downside thus far has been the arse-ache I've got from my family and friends for being such a 'drama queen' and the fact that there a number of people in my life who I actually care about and enjoy seeing what's going on in their lives. However, that's been my point all along. I now have to resort to actual communication in order to gain said updates (be it skype or just a plain old phone call) -- a far more nourishing and enriching experience.
Therefore I can only conclude that in the battle against the information age, I am winning and winning well. Up yours, Zuckerberg!
JB.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Sketch Show
Filming of my new sketch show has begun and the past week has been absolutely mental.
To fill you in, I met some peeps at a party. We started talking. They showed me a sketch show they had previously wrote and directed. It was utterly insane, slightly perverse and in-your-face enough for me to love it. Thus they brought me in to help write, direct and act in what is now known as "Starving In Hollywood". Thus begins the story.
Today was day three of shooting at a crazy house deep in the San Fernando Valley where many, many debauched things have occurred (not least, several porno shoots - in the past, of course). In those three days I have been in a bikini, been a German professor, been a news reporter, been a big, black, dildo, been a sock puppet, eaten dirt and probably anything else you could imagine.
Suffice to say it has been fun, as I always expected it to be. However what's been the most pleasant aspect of shooting this show has been working with a wonderful group talented, lovely people who are game for anything. It has been the absolute antithesis of everything "Hollywood" and, as a result, an absolute breath of fresh air. It feels so nice to be amongst this merry bunch of misfits creating hilarious stuff (one hopes, anyway) and despite how close to the bone the subject matter is - and trust me, some of it pretty fecking close - people have just mucked in and gone all-out. It's been hot, extremely cramped, and a lot of hard bloody work, however it has been a joy to be behind and in front of the camera again. Indeed doing projects like this reminds me of exactly why I love doing what I do.
The other element of this project I have found thoroughly satisfying has been taking the piss out of everything I dislike about mainstream culture. It somehow feels cathartic to get these things off one's chest. Skewering celebrities, politicians, musicians, reality shows, or just the industry in general has been nothing short of delightful fun. Ultimately, of course, this sort of behaviour is akin to throwing stones at a vast cliff face but, metaphorically speaking, it's good exercise.
Hopefully I'll have some footage to post here soon and all in all, although knackered and massively sunburned, consider this big-headed human happy.
Peace and poo-jokes,
John.
To fill you in, I met some peeps at a party. We started talking. They showed me a sketch show they had previously wrote and directed. It was utterly insane, slightly perverse and in-your-face enough for me to love it. Thus they brought me in to help write, direct and act in what is now known as "Starving In Hollywood". Thus begins the story.
Today was day three of shooting at a crazy house deep in the San Fernando Valley where many, many debauched things have occurred (not least, several porno shoots - in the past, of course). In those three days I have been in a bikini, been a German professor, been a news reporter, been a big, black, dildo, been a sock puppet, eaten dirt and probably anything else you could imagine.
Suffice to say it has been fun, as I always expected it to be. However what's been the most pleasant aspect of shooting this show has been working with a wonderful group talented, lovely people who are game for anything. It has been the absolute antithesis of everything "Hollywood" and, as a result, an absolute breath of fresh air. It feels so nice to be amongst this merry bunch of misfits creating hilarious stuff (one hopes, anyway) and despite how close to the bone the subject matter is - and trust me, some of it pretty fecking close - people have just mucked in and gone all-out. It's been hot, extremely cramped, and a lot of hard bloody work, however it has been a joy to be behind and in front of the camera again. Indeed doing projects like this reminds me of exactly why I love doing what I do.
The other element of this project I have found thoroughly satisfying has been taking the piss out of everything I dislike about mainstream culture. It somehow feels cathartic to get these things off one's chest. Skewering celebrities, politicians, musicians, reality shows, or just the industry in general has been nothing short of delightful fun. Ultimately, of course, this sort of behaviour is akin to throwing stones at a vast cliff face but, metaphorically speaking, it's good exercise.
Hopefully I'll have some footage to post here soon and all in all, although knackered and massively sunburned, consider this big-headed human happy.
Peace and poo-jokes,
John.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Absurd Rap Lyrics #245
"I pimp hard on a trick. Look...
Fuck if your leg broke, bitch
Hop on your good foot"
From "Cashmere Thoughts" - Jay Z
Fuck if your leg broke, bitch
Hop on your good foot"
From "Cashmere Thoughts" - Jay Z
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
My Film On The Big Screen: A Review
So, after drinking far too much free Pepsi I am now high as a kite and wide awake. A perfect time to review the earlier events of this evening. Namely the first ever screening of my film. I'll try and talk you through the emotional rollercoaster. It was quite a ride.
All day I had been a simmering brew of nerves. However, as soon as I set foot inside the festival, I became a full-boiled nightmare. I haven't experienced sheer, gut-wrenching terror like that since the first time I ever did stand-up. I might even go so far as to say I was more nervous on this occasion. Anyway, the entire lobby was packed with people, there was a Red Carpet, people wanted pictures of us...the whole thing just sent my arsehole into oblivion. You see, deep down, I had always suspected that my dislike for publicity was a conceited attempt at staying grounded or something. I think I always suspected that when faced with the "red carpet" and the "Q&A" type-scenarios I would instantly become the ham I've always been, love every second, discard all my friends and family and become the next Jodie Marsh. Turns out I really am quite publicity-shy. After seeing pictures of the evening, the utter discomfort I was feeling inside apparently wasn't betrayed by my face. I was a wreck.
Then of course came the actual screening. We were in a two-hour slot, which is FAR too long to be showing short films. Especially when the first hour was utterly appalling, and I'm saying this as a fan of film. They were shocking. So much so, in fact, that they had somehow managed to kill the room. An experience I had previously suffered many times on the stand-up circuit.
Then, about an hour or so in, came mine.
I was already hopped-up on Pepsi and dread and when the first musical notes began I felt myself shrinking into my seat like a chocolate rabbit by the fire. Now, the first rule of reviving a dead room in stand-up is that it takes them a while to trust you - you have to win them back and let them know you're not like the others. The same applied here. However this meant, in this scenario, that for the start of the film, it became plainly apparent that no-one was laughing. No-one. Silencio. "That's it", I thought, "their will has been broken. They've become jaded by the pure tripe put before them for the past hour. They hate my film."
A few smatterings of laughter began. Then a nice moment where everyone jumped. That felt good. I started to move slightly more upright, we were winning them back. Then next thing you know, the whole place laughed loud. They had finally warmed to the story. I was now almost fully upright (not sexually, of course) when suddenly, out of nowhere, a moment of actual warmth, satisfaction and achievement hit me over the head like a ton of bricks. I could see my own stupid little (see: massive) face up there on the big screen, in a film that I'd also wrote & directed, and it was getting laughs. Not only that but the exact message I was trying to convey was getting across. People were on the character's side. For a brief moment in time, I was in Woody Allen territory. I could have creamed myself right there and then.
Obviously there's no way of writing about this sort of thing without disappearing completely up your own arse, which I by now probably have in your eyes, and it's certainly quite presumptuous to put myself in the same stratosphere as the Woodster, but the reason I do write this is because lately I have been really disillusioned with life in "the industry". Surrounded by bottom-feeding swine with not a moral or shred of dignity to their name. Everyone telling me it's not possible, or you've got to do it like this, or like that or you've got to "network" or whatever the fuck people who think they know better than you tell you. The point is, in all that I kind of lost why I got into this in the first place. It's easy to lose touch with that when you're caught up in the hustle of 'making it' but the reason I got into this game after 28 years of drifting was, of course, to get up on that big screen and entertain a crowd. Plain and simple. To be a small part of the magic of cinema, where people go to a darkened room, sit in front of a giant screen and "oooo" and "ahhh" at what's before them. To see that happening, with something I created, before my eyes was an absolute honor and a privilege. I felt like a little kid again.
I've gone up my arse again, I know.
Right, I'm getting all soppy now and it's late so I'll stop rabbiting. But overall, the screening was a big success. People had very kind words and I even managed to duck out of the old Q&A session afterwards. Marvelous.
To everyone that has shown, and continues to show, support. I honestly can't thank you enough.
Rock n' Roll.
JB.
All day I had been a simmering brew of nerves. However, as soon as I set foot inside the festival, I became a full-boiled nightmare. I haven't experienced sheer, gut-wrenching terror like that since the first time I ever did stand-up. I might even go so far as to say I was more nervous on this occasion. Anyway, the entire lobby was packed with people, there was a Red Carpet, people wanted pictures of us...the whole thing just sent my arsehole into oblivion. You see, deep down, I had always suspected that my dislike for publicity was a conceited attempt at staying grounded or something. I think I always suspected that when faced with the "red carpet" and the "Q&A" type-scenarios I would instantly become the ham I've always been, love every second, discard all my friends and family and become the next Jodie Marsh. Turns out I really am quite publicity-shy. After seeing pictures of the evening, the utter discomfort I was feeling inside apparently wasn't betrayed by my face. I was a wreck.
Then of course came the actual screening. We were in a two-hour slot, which is FAR too long to be showing short films. Especially when the first hour was utterly appalling, and I'm saying this as a fan of film. They were shocking. So much so, in fact, that they had somehow managed to kill the room. An experience I had previously suffered many times on the stand-up circuit.
Then, about an hour or so in, came mine.
I was already hopped-up on Pepsi and dread and when the first musical notes began I felt myself shrinking into my seat like a chocolate rabbit by the fire. Now, the first rule of reviving a dead room in stand-up is that it takes them a while to trust you - you have to win them back and let them know you're not like the others. The same applied here. However this meant, in this scenario, that for the start of the film, it became plainly apparent that no-one was laughing. No-one. Silencio. "That's it", I thought, "their will has been broken. They've become jaded by the pure tripe put before them for the past hour. They hate my film."
A few smatterings of laughter began. Then a nice moment where everyone jumped. That felt good. I started to move slightly more upright, we were winning them back. Then next thing you know, the whole place laughed loud. They had finally warmed to the story. I was now almost fully upright (not sexually, of course) when suddenly, out of nowhere, a moment of actual warmth, satisfaction and achievement hit me over the head like a ton of bricks. I could see my own stupid little (see: massive) face up there on the big screen, in a film that I'd also wrote & directed, and it was getting laughs. Not only that but the exact message I was trying to convey was getting across. People were on the character's side. For a brief moment in time, I was in Woody Allen territory. I could have creamed myself right there and then.
Obviously there's no way of writing about this sort of thing without disappearing completely up your own arse, which I by now probably have in your eyes, and it's certainly quite presumptuous to put myself in the same stratosphere as the Woodster, but the reason I do write this is because lately I have been really disillusioned with life in "the industry". Surrounded by bottom-feeding swine with not a moral or shred of dignity to their name. Everyone telling me it's not possible, or you've got to do it like this, or like that or you've got to "network" or whatever the fuck people who think they know better than you tell you. The point is, in all that I kind of lost why I got into this in the first place. It's easy to lose touch with that when you're caught up in the hustle of 'making it' but the reason I got into this game after 28 years of drifting was, of course, to get up on that big screen and entertain a crowd. Plain and simple. To be a small part of the magic of cinema, where people go to a darkened room, sit in front of a giant screen and "oooo" and "ahhh" at what's before them. To see that happening, with something I created, before my eyes was an absolute honor and a privilege. I felt like a little kid again.
I've gone up my arse again, I know.
Right, I'm getting all soppy now and it's late so I'll stop rabbiting. But overall, the screening was a big success. People had very kind words and I even managed to duck out of the old Q&A session afterwards. Marvelous.
To everyone that has shown, and continues to show, support. I honestly can't thank you enough.
Rock n' Roll.
JB.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Quote of the Day
"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence or insanity to anyone...but they've always worked for me"
-- Hunter S. Thompson
Monday, August 6, 2012
Olympic Fever
So, yesterday was the first day I actually managed to sit down, relax and catch up with what's been going on in the Olympics. First of all, Danny Boyle's opening ceremony was an absolutely magnificent achievement. A complete journey through my country's storied history (minus the colonizing and such) which was a pleasure to see come alive. I can't even begin to imagine how you go about pulling off something like that so I'll just say hat's off to everyone involved.
The next feeling I had was the most severe pang of homesickness I think I've ever felt since being away. Knowing that the entire Olympic Village is 15 minutes away (by train) from where I grew up is almost too much to bear. Plus, in my humble opinion, there is no country in the world that gets into massive party atmosphere like England. I remember when we hosted Euro 96 and the country was just pure bliss for several weeks. From what I've heard, it's twice as good for the games. Lord knows our fair land needed a morale boost, and we seem to have got it in spades. Lovely.
Our collective mood has been of course helped by the astonishing amount of medals Team GB has won so far. Per Capita we are miles ahead of any other nation on earth - second only to China and the US (whose population is about 10 times ours) - and frankly, I found myself getting emotional (see: blubbing like a graze-knee'd child) watching my countrymen/women getting their medals. Not just my countrymen actually, pretty much anyone who won earned at least a tear from mine eye. I just find it so incredible that someone can dedicate their entire life to one purpose with such singularity, drive and desire and to see their achievements met is just beyond measure. They now get to call themselves Olympic Gold Medalists for the rest of their days. Quite a feat.
Speaking of which, massive congratulations to Andy Murray. Not only winning gold, but doing so on the same court, against the same opponent, where he took a public battering only a few weeks ago. He played out of his skin and earned every second of his glory. To you sir, I offer a slow, deliberate clap.
All in all, I have never wanted to be back home more than I did yesterday. Oh well, in the immortal words of the Dalai Lama "Judge your success by what you had to sacrifice to achieve it". Never a truer word spoken.
Peace, love and more medals.
JB.
 |
| Tower Bridge: Majestic |
Our collective mood has been of course helped by the astonishing amount of medals Team GB has won so far. Per Capita we are miles ahead of any other nation on earth - second only to China and the US (whose population is about 10 times ours) - and frankly, I found myself getting emotional (see: blubbing like a graze-knee'd child) watching my countrymen/women getting their medals. Not just my countrymen actually, pretty much anyone who won earned at least a tear from mine eye. I just find it so incredible that someone can dedicate their entire life to one purpose with such singularity, drive and desire and to see their achievements met is just beyond measure. They now get to call themselves Olympic Gold Medalists for the rest of their days. Quite a feat.
Speaking of which, massive congratulations to Andy Murray. Not only winning gold, but doing so on the same court, against the same opponent, where he took a public battering only a few weeks ago. He played out of his skin and earned every second of his glory. To you sir, I offer a slow, deliberate clap.
 |
| "Hang on, I know it....just give me second...it's on the tip of my tongue" |
Peace, love and more medals.
JB.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Worst Movie Accents
9) Sean Connery in "The Hunt For Red October" - A hard-nosed Russian submarine captain. Still Scottish.
8) Nicolas Cage in "Captain Corelli's Mandolin" - Sounds like one of the Inglourious Basterds (in that scene at the end). Wrong.
7) Kevin Costner in "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" - The only American to ever set foot in Sherwood Forest in a story which is supposed to take place before America was even born. Work that one out.
6) Keanu Reeves in "Dracula" - Who is the genius that thought this one up? Keanu as in Englishman? Hysterical.
5) Sean Connery in "Highlander" - Supposed to be a Spaniard of some kind. Still Scottish.
4) George Clooney in "Batman and Robin" - Not really an accent but merits mention just for the sheer lack of effort on Clooney's part to change his voice. At all. Him saying "Hi Freeze, I'm Batman" will be etched onto my brain for as long as I live.
3) Charlie Hunnam in "Green Street Hooligans" - When hiring someone to play a roughneck football hooligan, probably best to get someone who can do the accent first and foremost. A total atrocity from start to finish and he's a bloody British actor! Poor form sir, poor form.
2) Don Cheadle in "Ocean's Eleven" - Almost made the top spot for the sheer fact that most Americans think this is a dead-on cockney accent. Friends, it is not even close. It is, in fact, shit. Why you wouldn't have him either A) do it in his normal accent or B) have a Black British person play that part is beyond me. Redeemed only by the fact that Cheadle is one of the best actors around.
1) John Malkovich in "Rounders" - The very reason I decided to make this list. Last night I found myself re-watching Rounders (a very good, underrated, film) and sitting in open-mouthed awe at the absolute butchering taking place before my eyes. If I were Russian, I'd seriously consider legal action. Kudos to anyone in a scene with him for not p*ssing themselves laughing. The last bit where Malkovich says "geeeaaaaave heeeeaaaam heeeeeaaaas meeeeaaaaaany" is just amazing. Bravo, sire. Bravo.
JB.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Anti-Social Network
Last night, I found myself in the midst of some heavy thinking. What I was mostly thinking about was what an absolute revolution the internet has been in the past 10 years. A friend and I were chatting and trying to remember life before the internet even existed and frankly it was very (very) hard to do.
However, there was a time when I had no idea what the internet was. I remember my first time on it and trying to negotiate this brave new world, like a newborn dear stumbling and shaking my way through my first steps. Of course, as soon as I could stand, metaphorically speaking, I went straight to porn and the true purpose of the 'information superhighway' was revealed.
Since then the internet has, of course, only grown and become an integral part of our existence. Even more so with the birth of social networking. A fad which I am now massively suspicious of for many reasons which are too plentiful to go into here. However, as a result I have decided to abandon all social networking. This will probably begin in earnest next week but I'm interested to see what life without facebook, twitter etc will actually be like. It's weird, I'm breaking out in a kind of cold sweat at the thought of no longer being 'plugged in'. However, this is a move I'm determined to try so we will see how it goes. Results will be posted here.
I just realised that I wrote this post as if anyone actually cares. Of course they don't. Haha.
Peace and love,
John
Since then the internet has, of course, only grown and become an integral part of our existence. Even more so with the birth of social networking. A fad which I am now massively suspicious of for many reasons which are too plentiful to go into here. However, as a result I have decided to abandon all social networking. This will probably begin in earnest next week but I'm interested to see what life without facebook, twitter etc will actually be like. It's weird, I'm breaking out in a kind of cold sweat at the thought of no longer being 'plugged in'. However, this is a move I'm determined to try so we will see how it goes. Results will be posted here.
I just realised that I wrote this post as if anyone actually cares. Of course they don't. Haha.
Peace and love,
John
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Dialogue of the Day
Putney: "If I give you a raise, then everyone's gonna want a raise, and if I give them a raise, they'll still be making more money than you and we'll be right back where we started."
Worker: "Oh, I never thought of it that way"
Putney: "And that's why you make less money."
From the utterly deranged "Putney Swope" (Dir. Robert Downey Sr. - 1969)
Tunes Currently Melting My Ice Caps
1) Wake Up Alone - Amy Winehouse
2) Children's Story - Slick Rick
3) Film - Aphex Twin
4) 1957 - Milo Greene
5) Tchiki Tchiki Tchiki - Make The Girl Dance
6) Loco-Motive - Nas
7) The Needle and The Damage Done - Neil Young
8) Iron Swallow - Jonny Greenwood
9) I Wanna Be Where You Are - Michael Jackson
10) Sally Hatchet - Father John Misty
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
And The Pulitzer Prize Goes To...
Here is a review of Chris Brown's latest album. It is brilliant. If only more people came out and spoke the truth about matters such as these, the world would be rid of vapid neanderthals such as this woman-beating bellend.
Chris Havercroft, take a bow.
JB.
Chris Havercroft, take a bow.
JB.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Things I Love: Breaking Bad
So, last night was the third episode of the fifth series of what is now, in my humble opinion, undisputedly the best TV show I have ever seen. I thought The Sopranos couldn't be topped. It has been. By this man...
For those who don't know, Breaking Bad is the story of one Walter White, a high-school chemistry teacher (slash genius) who is diagnosed with terminal cancer. Walt subsequently has what I will understatedly call "a bit of a breakdown" and, riddled with worry about his family's financial future, goes into the business of cooking Crystal Meth with a former student of his.
Thus he begins life as a drug dealer. What follows is an intriguing tale of a completely criminally inept man trying to hide his new business venture from his suspecting wife, his son and his DEA agent brother. All straight forward enough, right?
However, what elevates this show above your standard fare is the characters. Especially Walt, whose descent into the dark side is the single most perfectly written thing I've seen. There is so much room for error. So many opportunities for contrivance. So many chances to lose an audience with a "Oh, that would NEVER happen" type scenario (see: 'Lost') but not once does this happen. In fact, the exact opposite is true. Never have I found myself shouting "oh my god!" at the screen so many times throughout the story and never, most certainly in the latest episodes have I been so nervous watching everything unravel. That's the thing...you really shouldn't, but you really do care about what happens to these people, even peripheral figures. Everything is just so well executed that you can't help but find yourself right in the deep end, swimming through the murky waters of moral ambiguity along with everyone else. Every single story is on a knife-edge at all times, no-one can get out because everyone needs each other to survive. It is masterful storytelling folks, I tell thee.
Of course all of these wonderful characters would be nothing without great actors and it's no surprise that Bryan Cranston's portrayal of Walter White has won him every award under the sun (as has the brilliant Aaron Paul, as his sidekick, Jesse). Cranston is the best actor on TV. He goes from bumbling idiot to steel-eyed psycho so effortlessly and so subtly that it is doubly terrifying. Anna Gunn is great as his put-upon wife. Paul Schrader starts off as a boisterous, alpha-male knobhead as Hank, the DEA brother-in-law but he has evolved into something so much more. Bob Odenkirk as Saul, Jonathan Banks as the dead-eyed Mike, the list goes on and on. Everyone is incredible.
Also, the music, the guest stars, and, most notably, the cinematography are absolutely top draw. It looks like nothing else on TV, feels like nothing else on TV, is like nothing else on TV and frankly, I defy anyone not to get caught up in it after a few episodes.
In fact, why are you reading this? Go and watch it. Now!
JB.
For those who don't know, Breaking Bad is the story of one Walter White, a high-school chemistry teacher (slash genius) who is diagnosed with terminal cancer. Walt subsequently has what I will understatedly call "a bit of a breakdown" and, riddled with worry about his family's financial future, goes into the business of cooking Crystal Meth with a former student of his.
Thus he begins life as a drug dealer. What follows is an intriguing tale of a completely criminally inept man trying to hide his new business venture from his suspecting wife, his son and his DEA agent brother. All straight forward enough, right?
However, what elevates this show above your standard fare is the characters. Especially Walt, whose descent into the dark side is the single most perfectly written thing I've seen. There is so much room for error. So many opportunities for contrivance. So many chances to lose an audience with a "Oh, that would NEVER happen" type scenario (see: 'Lost') but not once does this happen. In fact, the exact opposite is true. Never have I found myself shouting "oh my god!" at the screen so many times throughout the story and never, most certainly in the latest episodes have I been so nervous watching everything unravel. That's the thing...you really shouldn't, but you really do care about what happens to these people, even peripheral figures. Everything is just so well executed that you can't help but find yourself right in the deep end, swimming through the murky waters of moral ambiguity along with everyone else. Every single story is on a knife-edge at all times, no-one can get out because everyone needs each other to survive. It is masterful storytelling folks, I tell thee.
Also, the music, the guest stars, and, most notably, the cinematography are absolutely top draw. It looks like nothing else on TV, feels like nothing else on TV, is like nothing else on TV and frankly, I defy anyone not to get caught up in it after a few episodes.
In fact, why are you reading this? Go and watch it. Now!
JB.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Director Files: Kevin Smith
Born in New Jersey in 1970, our Kev's career began by writing and performing sketches (very successful ones at that, by all accounts) at High School with a group of friends. Upon graduating, he found himself working in a convenience store with absolutely no prospects. Thus he got to writing. What he ended up with was the screenplay for "Clerks". However, he had no means to make it. So off he went to film school in Vancouver. He lasted six months, learning just enough to realise that he could probably make this film for himself and back to the store he went.
What followed was "Clerks" - the single biggest inspiration in mine and I'm sure a lot of other people's lives. Not just for the hilarity and ingenuity of the story, but more for the sheer balls of the man to make it. Here was a 23 year-old, who, rather than take the accepted means of success - film school, move to LA, work as a PA for years on end, make short films, do the festival circuit etc etc etc - decided instead that he was good for a credit line of around 27 grand (by maxing out multiple credit cards) and making his feature film for that. Fortune favours the bold, my friends.
The story of Clerks is a novel in itself, so I won't go into too much detail here. However, suffice to say that after an almighty struggle and many, many setbacks, the film became a resounding success, everyone made their money back and Kevin was suddenly thrust into cult stardom. His next film was "Mallrats" which is a bit gash but follows a similar path of telling seemingly mundane tales of everyday life in suburban New Jersey. However not everyone felt like I did about it and Kev's career seemed to be on the fast-track to mega-stardom.
Next came "Chasing Amy". A film which represented a massive leap forward for Kevin as a storyteller. Yes, technically it was still about New Jersey folk, but it had a much grander, more complicated, sweeping romantic edge to it. It is a brilliant film and one that should be seen by all. It's funny ('fingercuffs' and the 'black beauty' segments being personal faves), odd, complex and very poignant when all's said and done. It was another hit and, by now, among the previously unspoken for geek nation of America (and indeed the world) Kevin was a god.
Next came 1999's "Dogma" - a star-studded, unflinching look at Religion and all that, the utterly insane "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back", the truly rubbish "Jersey Girl", "Clerks II", "Zack and Miri Make A Porno" and "Cop Out" in which he apparently had a major on-set beef with none other than Bruce Willis. Willis claiming that Kevin "dicked around and smoked pot the entire time". Brilliant.
Which leads me to my next point. Kevin Smith might not be the greatest film-maker ever, despite making a few absolute classics. He might not be to everyone's taste. Yet, the thing what I love most about him however is that could not give two shits about that fact. He has always done, and continues to do, exactly what he wants. Whether it is the foul-mouthed, deeply offensive, "Clerks" - a film which I'm sure EVERYONE around him told him not to do - or mega studio flick like "Cop Out" he has done the same from day one, and frankly what is not to love about that, folks? Very few people have such an authentic voice consistent throughout their body of work. Even fewer have the balls to really pursue it with such enthusiasm and abandon for "The Rules".
Of course now Mr. Smith is more multi-media sensation than actual filmmaker (despite his last effort "Red State" being pretty interesting). He now has several podcasts, on online film review show, national sold-out college tours, books (including the brilliantly titled "My Boring Ass Life" and "Advice from a fat, lazy slob who did good"), cartoons, comic books...the man has done it all, continues to do it all, and will continue to do it all regardless of who's listening. Something that a very large percentage of us suckers can only aspire to.
All that aside though, the main reason I love the man is because when you look beyond all the dick jokes and all the fat jokes and all the other stuff, at the centre of it all is a man, a normal bloke just making his way and really loving films, as evidenced on his latest podcast in which he blubbed like a child describing the endings of both Good Will Hunting and Monsters, Inc. Now, that I can respect.
He's also not afraid to dish the dirt on behind the scenes Hollywood and here is a video of which describes when Kevin was asked to write what would later become "Superman Returns". Classic.
Keep it going, big man.
JB.
P.S - I actually had the pleasure of meeting him once. One of the nicest people you could wish to meet. That is all.
What followed was "Clerks" - the single biggest inspiration in mine and I'm sure a lot of other people's lives. Not just for the hilarity and ingenuity of the story, but more for the sheer balls of the man to make it. Here was a 23 year-old, who, rather than take the accepted means of success - film school, move to LA, work as a PA for years on end, make short films, do the festival circuit etc etc etc - decided instead that he was good for a credit line of around 27 grand (by maxing out multiple credit cards) and making his feature film for that. Fortune favours the bold, my friends.
The story of Clerks is a novel in itself, so I won't go into too much detail here. However, suffice to say that after an almighty struggle and many, many setbacks, the film became a resounding success, everyone made their money back and Kevin was suddenly thrust into cult stardom. His next film was "Mallrats" which is a bit gash but follows a similar path of telling seemingly mundane tales of everyday life in suburban New Jersey. However not everyone felt like I did about it and Kev's career seemed to be on the fast-track to mega-stardom.
Next came "Chasing Amy". A film which represented a massive leap forward for Kevin as a storyteller. Yes, technically it was still about New Jersey folk, but it had a much grander, more complicated, sweeping romantic edge to it. It is a brilliant film and one that should be seen by all. It's funny ('fingercuffs' and the 'black beauty' segments being personal faves), odd, complex and very poignant when all's said and done. It was another hit and, by now, among the previously unspoken for geek nation of America (and indeed the world) Kevin was a god.
Next came 1999's "Dogma" - a star-studded, unflinching look at Religion and all that, the utterly insane "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back", the truly rubbish "Jersey Girl", "Clerks II", "Zack and Miri Make A Porno" and "Cop Out" in which he apparently had a major on-set beef with none other than Bruce Willis. Willis claiming that Kevin "dicked around and smoked pot the entire time". Brilliant.
Which leads me to my next point. Kevin Smith might not be the greatest film-maker ever, despite making a few absolute classics. He might not be to everyone's taste. Yet, the thing what I love most about him however is that could not give two shits about that fact. He has always done, and continues to do, exactly what he wants. Whether it is the foul-mouthed, deeply offensive, "Clerks" - a film which I'm sure EVERYONE around him told him not to do - or mega studio flick like "Cop Out" he has done the same from day one, and frankly what is not to love about that, folks? Very few people have such an authentic voice consistent throughout their body of work. Even fewer have the balls to really pursue it with such enthusiasm and abandon for "The Rules".
Of course now Mr. Smith is more multi-media sensation than actual filmmaker (despite his last effort "Red State" being pretty interesting). He now has several podcasts, on online film review show, national sold-out college tours, books (including the brilliantly titled "My Boring Ass Life" and "Advice from a fat, lazy slob who did good"), cartoons, comic books...the man has done it all, continues to do it all, and will continue to do it all regardless of who's listening. Something that a very large percentage of us suckers can only aspire to.
All that aside though, the main reason I love the man is because when you look beyond all the dick jokes and all the fat jokes and all the other stuff, at the centre of it all is a man, a normal bloke just making his way and really loving films, as evidenced on his latest podcast in which he blubbed like a child describing the endings of both Good Will Hunting and Monsters, Inc. Now, that I can respect.
He's also not afraid to dish the dirt on behind the scenes Hollywood and here is a video of which describes when Kevin was asked to write what would later become "Superman Returns". Classic.
Keep it going, big man.
JB.
P.S - I actually had the pleasure of meeting him once. One of the nicest people you could wish to meet. That is all.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Wheel Of Fortune
D_GITAL THER_O_TAT
When suddenly one contestant buzzed in and yelled "Thermometer!"
Ahhh humans, what will you come up with next?
JB.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Irritants
Right, I've just been for a very long run (well, a short run, but a long walk) up a very steep canyon after a terrible night's sleep and I believe it would be safe to say that I am not in the most lucid state I've ever been in. However, I feel now is a good time to rant about some things that have been ticking me off the last few weeks.
1) James Holmes - You sir, are exactly what is wrong with the world. I hope you get royally shafted up the backside by a man called "Tank" for the rest of your days. Shame on you. You twat.
2) Knobheads - This may just be my unrealistically high standards for the human race, but I can't help feeling that I am almost perpetually surrounded by utterly vacuous dick-people from the planet Helmet. You see, I've had a dear friend of mine visiting from England the past three weeks (here he is pictured fighting off an imperial fighter) and, it being his first time in Los Angeles, it's like seeing it all with fresh eyes again. The results have not been pretty. Examples include the following conversational snippets:
Drunk bellened: "Hey bro, you realise you'd be speaking German if it weren't for us?"
Runyon Canyon Mother: "Wait a minute, Cassie, you're telling me that when you played on Tuesday you weren't trying to win?"
Runyon Canyon Daughter: "No Mom, I just win naturally"
Different Drunk Bellend: "You ever go to Mexico, bro? It's great. You just rent a fucking Hotel Room find a chick and take her back there to pound that shit out" (Note: at this point, I suspected he may be a virgin)
Deadly serious handsome guy: "I don't have girl-FRIENDS. That's just something a guy like me doesn't do."
Girl who just got picked on at a comedy club: "UCB is a fucking racist institution. It just is. I ran out of there. Oh, I'll be making a complaint" (Note: She was white.)
Threatened by English man, man: "That's not his real accent, babe. Hey bro? When you master the American accent then maybe I'll work with you. Until then, bro...."
Coffee Shop business meeting person: "What does branding mean to me? I think branding is the using our name to enter the lexicon of people's lives" (Note: my eye began twitching at this point)
Tour Guide at Sony Studios (after showing us film previews for the first 20 minutes of the tour): "Wow, 'Looper'. Looks like a pretty interesting movie, huh TJ?"
Tour Guide 2: "Sure does, Mike"
ARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!
3) The Bachelorette
Who watches this cack? More importantly, what sort of message is this sending to the would-be women of tomorrow? Be a morally bankrupt whore, claiming to be in love with not one, not two, but three blokes at the same time, subsequently shagging all three of them, and not only will we NOT give you a rightfully earned bollocking for it, we the people will infact give you fame and fortune! Terrifying.
Also, where do they find these blokes to go on this programme? How do integrate yourself back into society after getting dumped on national television and in the post-dump interview you retort with "she came out tonight and I thought "that's my wife". You, sir, are hereby ordered to go to a remote area to re-think your entire existence.
4) Hollywood
Few days go by where I'm not at least mildly irritated by the old industrial complex of the film industry. However, do we need to see a re-telling of Spiderman? Or indeed a prequel to The Wizard of Oz, or, for that matter, do I need to be reminded everywhere I turn that Batman is out. I swear the head of Warner Bros said to his ad campaign team "Right, I don't want anyone in this town to be able to turn 360 degrees anywhere they stand without seeing a Dark Knight Rises poster." We already know it's coming out. We're all going to see it anyway. Please, don't ram it down our gullets. Thanks.
5) Obama vs Romney
As with all western politics, once again the truth has become a distant memory. What's right for this country and by proxy the rest of the world has once again paled in significance and what we are instead left with are two grown men throwing play-doh at each other and calling one another "poo-poo heads". Well done boys, neither of you has managed to find the higher ground, you are both completely abandoning what's actually important and are once again showing everyone how political campaigns are just cheerleading contests in suits.
I think that's all I've got....for now.
Meows and woofs,
JB.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Dialogue of the Day
--From "Flight of the Conchords" (2007)
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
The "Industry": A Weird and Baffling Enigma
So, folks, I apologize (again to all two of you) for the lack of posting on this blog. This is partly down to the fact that sometimes it's hard to muster up the energy to warble on for paragraphs knowing you have no audience whatsoever - like performing Hamlet in a cave - however it is mostly because I have been biting my tongue on certain things that have displeased me lately. Being the state of the world today I am smart enough not to overtly "diss" anyone on the world-wide web. However...
Very recently I attended the LA premiere of a short film, held at a VERY prestigious agency building, by their latest signing and new "hot" director. I will admit that, even before going in, I was dubious to the quality of said film by it's title alone (which I can't mention but let's call it "Turd On Fire", for storytelling purposes). However, as I sat in the private cinema, and more people filed in - a number of them big-time producers and agents etc - I started to think to myself "Well, if all these people are supporting this film, by golly it must be good.
The film was then introduced by a number of people involved in the making of it, including the director, who seemed like a thoroughly nice chap. So I sat back and wished him all the best. The lights went down and "Turd on Fire" began.
What then followed was the single worst 25 minutes I had ever seen committed to celluloid....and I've seen "Brothers", people. I have never been so offended in all my life. Not only was this film poorly written, terribly acted and desperately lacking of any storyline, it was almost unbearably violent, not in a cool grindhouse-type way, but in the most appallingly trashy way imaginable. Shock for the sake of shock. Nothing more. It was, from start to finish, nasty, black-hearted, garbage.
And what reaction did it receive when the credits rolled? A massive, very long and very loud, round of applause. The exact words I heard behind me were "Man 1: Oh my god. Why is isn't this guy directing movies like 'John Carter'?" Man 2: "Well, that's a discussion that will be had in the building very soon, I'm sure".
I stormed out.
The reason for my utter disgust with "Turd on Fire" was several-fold. One, without giving too much away, it was set in territory in which you could say I'm familiar (like, 25 years familiar). Two, this was being touted by a (as previously mentioned) very influential and successful agency. Three, it was terrible. And Four, for the money they spent, I'm confident I personally could have delivered a film a hundred thousand times better than that....this point may be open to debate. However the reason I'm so righteously upset by this venture is because it was so obviously devoid of any kind of imagination, wit, charm, subtlety, and most glaringly, heart. It was the cinematic equivalent of being battered about the skull with a blunt force by a juvenile offender for the entire time watching it. Horrible horrible horrible.
The saddest part of this whole debacle is that afterwards, this bloke literally had scores of people offering congratulations, no doubt anointing him as 'the next big thing' or whatever the fuck it is they talk about. I can't say I know, I didn't hang around long enough to find out.
It thus makes me wonder. You see, the one thing this film had going for it was that a pretty successful director (again, can't name him, so let's refer to him, or her, as Lumpysack McMoistgroin) Executive Producing it. How this happened, I do not know. However, by association with Lumpysack, who is a proven money-maker for studios, this film, and of course the writer/director of it, gets a massive leg-up. Indeed such was the dynamic in the air last night that I honestly believe, after the introductions, the previously established connection to Lumpysack, and the surrounding 'hype' etc., that the actual content of the film was, at this point, completely irrelevant. We could have sat and watched twenty minutes of a woman vomiting in a bucket, and the response would have been the same. That crowd of industry bigwigs were primed and ready to be amazed, and amazed they were, despite what actually passed their eyes.
This was a glimpse into the soul of Hollywood I had yet to see before and it left me momentarily reeling. What chance have I got against the black hearted demon I had just been thrust before? Is it possibly true, that all Hollywood wants is some douche who can film people swearing and stabbing each other and will play ball when asked? Is talent a factor at all? Is it really all just dumb luck and nepotism? I will admit, for a moment, all hope was lost.
However, after the red mist faded I was left with a kind of bizarre, if potentially misguided, optimism about the whole thing. It seems to me that the industry is obviously crying out for authentic voices. Genuine talents. Anyone that can do anything! Indeed it must be a sorry state of affairs if this turgid piece of loaf is the new big thing. Therefore I can safely come to only one conclusion, that conclusion being that there is indeed hope for us all. Right?
.........right?
.........hello?
.........anyone?
..........helloooo?
..........
JB.
Very recently I attended the LA premiere of a short film, held at a VERY prestigious agency building, by their latest signing and new "hot" director. I will admit that, even before going in, I was dubious to the quality of said film by it's title alone (which I can't mention but let's call it "Turd On Fire", for storytelling purposes). However, as I sat in the private cinema, and more people filed in - a number of them big-time producers and agents etc - I started to think to myself "Well, if all these people are supporting this film, by golly it must be good.
The film was then introduced by a number of people involved in the making of it, including the director, who seemed like a thoroughly nice chap. So I sat back and wished him all the best. The lights went down and "Turd on Fire" began.
What then followed was the single worst 25 minutes I had ever seen committed to celluloid....and I've seen "Brothers", people. I have never been so offended in all my life. Not only was this film poorly written, terribly acted and desperately lacking of any storyline, it was almost unbearably violent, not in a cool grindhouse-type way, but in the most appallingly trashy way imaginable. Shock for the sake of shock. Nothing more. It was, from start to finish, nasty, black-hearted, garbage.
And what reaction did it receive when the credits rolled? A massive, very long and very loud, round of applause. The exact words I heard behind me were "Man 1: Oh my god. Why is isn't this guy directing movies like 'John Carter'?" Man 2: "Well, that's a discussion that will be had in the building very soon, I'm sure".
I stormed out.
The reason for my utter disgust with "Turd on Fire" was several-fold. One, without giving too much away, it was set in territory in which you could say I'm familiar (like, 25 years familiar). Two, this was being touted by a (as previously mentioned) very influential and successful agency. Three, it was terrible. And Four, for the money they spent, I'm confident I personally could have delivered a film a hundred thousand times better than that....this point may be open to debate. However the reason I'm so righteously upset by this venture is because it was so obviously devoid of any kind of imagination, wit, charm, subtlety, and most glaringly, heart. It was the cinematic equivalent of being battered about the skull with a blunt force by a juvenile offender for the entire time watching it. Horrible horrible horrible.
The saddest part of this whole debacle is that afterwards, this bloke literally had scores of people offering congratulations, no doubt anointing him as 'the next big thing' or whatever the fuck it is they talk about. I can't say I know, I didn't hang around long enough to find out.
It thus makes me wonder. You see, the one thing this film had going for it was that a pretty successful director (again, can't name him, so let's refer to him, or her, as Lumpysack McMoistgroin) Executive Producing it. How this happened, I do not know. However, by association with Lumpysack, who is a proven money-maker for studios, this film, and of course the writer/director of it, gets a massive leg-up. Indeed such was the dynamic in the air last night that I honestly believe, after the introductions, the previously established connection to Lumpysack, and the surrounding 'hype' etc., that the actual content of the film was, at this point, completely irrelevant. We could have sat and watched twenty minutes of a woman vomiting in a bucket, and the response would have been the same. That crowd of industry bigwigs were primed and ready to be amazed, and amazed they were, despite what actually passed their eyes.
This was a glimpse into the soul of Hollywood I had yet to see before and it left me momentarily reeling. What chance have I got against the black hearted demon I had just been thrust before? Is it possibly true, that all Hollywood wants is some douche who can film people swearing and stabbing each other and will play ball when asked? Is talent a factor at all? Is it really all just dumb luck and nepotism? I will admit, for a moment, all hope was lost.
However, after the red mist faded I was left with a kind of bizarre, if potentially misguided, optimism about the whole thing. It seems to me that the industry is obviously crying out for authentic voices. Genuine talents. Anyone that can do anything! Indeed it must be a sorry state of affairs if this turgid piece of loaf is the new big thing. Therefore I can safely come to only one conclusion, that conclusion being that there is indeed hope for us all. Right?
.........right?
.........hello?
.........anyone?
..........helloooo?
..........
JB.
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