Movie Nuggets

The other night, I saw The Pianist. It's a fantastic movie. From the moment it begins it sucks you into the ghettos of Warsaw and makes you feel pangs of hunger, even though your guiltily chewing on popcorn. It makes you feel cold and helpless, even though you're sitting on plush seats in a climate-controlled multiplex. It's such an honest and real movie, it makes Schindler's List - which is a good movie in its own right - look like a theme park. The difference is, the Spielberg movie is about heroes and hope. The Polanski movie is about surviving and pain. Both are valuable, but for me, The Pianist is so much more resonant. It's interesting that the California dude who becomes a directing wunderkind and ends up making hit after hit makes a movie about heroes and the dude whose mother died in a concentration camp and whose wife was killed with their unborn child makes a movie about pain. True, he is an admitted child rapist, but his movies are still great.

Last night, I saw Far From Heaven, which is equally impressive in its artistic vision. Every aspect of it from the color scheme, to the dialogue, to the acting style, to the titles is so deliberate and evocative that it must be exerienced to be appreciated. Filmmakers like Todd Haynes and Roman Polanski help reinstill the beauty and value of the film medium.

An Epiphany

Today, I had an epiphany. The day started out depressing me, and got worse when a friend started telling me about my ex-girlfriend's new boyfriend. And then I had lunch with a friend who just sold a script for a zillion dollars (we split the check). Then, while I was driving home, ruminating about both, it hit me. I need a car stereo. A while back, mine was stolen (or at least, the all important faceplate was, leaving the CD mechanism behind). Since then, as I drive, I tend to ruminate. And hum. And sing the same verse from George Jones' "She Thinks I Still Care" and the same two lines from "Baby Got Back." Specifically, "Big sisters I can't resist 'em, Red beans and rice didn't miss 'em."

I mean, come on. I live in Los Angeles. I spend 10.5 hours a day in car. When the stereo was stolen, I made the foolhardy assumption that a car stereo was a luxury. Like cable T.V. Or wine with a cork. In fact, a car stereo is a necessity; it's like air or DSL or (for 80% of America) cable T.V. It keeps you company. It's an instant friend. It distracts you from whatever's weighing on your mind. And if you turn to AM or NPR, it informs you.

I need a car stereo. I need morning radio with its sirens and horns to keep my spirits up and my mind on the sunny side of the street. I need an afternoon dose of Tom Leykis to get me back on track on how I should feel about women. I need to hear top 40 to anesthetize my frontal lobe to external stimuli.

So tomorrow, I'm going to Fry's and I'm going to get a car stereo, damn it. You just watch me and soon I'll be cruising down the 101 while listening to the classic rock station singing "Ventura Highway" by America at the top of my lungs. See how you like it XXXXXX, who doesn't have the balls to tell me that she's dating someone new. See how you like it, XXXXX, who leaves me paying the tip while he drives off in his Range Rover.

Boy. I really need that car stereo.