I haven't written much about baseball this year, for the simple fact that both my teams have been awful. The Mets have been beset by injuries to their stars, and the prospects they have called up have been hopeless. After two straight years of late-season collapses, the Mets have followed it up with one of their most inept seasons in years. It's time to start all over again, blow the whole thing up. Get rid of Omar Minaya, Jerry Manuel, and all their henchman, and start the re-building process. Again.
As for the Diamondbacks, their demise is much more perplexing. It's hard to comprehend, watching their total ineptness this season, but this is basically the same team that got to the NLCS two years ago. Of course, Brandon Webb, their Cy Young-winning ace has been out all season, but the rest of the team is intact. Mark Reynolds has had a great season, Justin Upton has been great at times, and not so great at others, and Dan Haren deserves the Cy Young award, but obviously won't win it. The rest of the team has stunk. Chris Young has turned into a major head case, and there are too many guys who have played without any desire or emotion. It's been sad to watch, or not watch, as the case may be.
So, without any team to root for, and seeing that teams I despise (i.e., the Yankees, the Cardinals, etc.) are cruising along with major leads in their respective divisions, I have pretty much ignored baseball, something I don't think I've ever done before. I have, however, managed to read Pete Rose's book, "My Prison Without Bars." Now, before I get on my soapbox, let me say that I have never liked Pete Rose, not since that October afternoon when he upended Buddy Harrelson and then proceeded to beat the crap out of him (at least that's how I choose to remember it). The sprinting to first base on a walk, the barreling into Ray Fosse at home plate in the All Star game (which pretty much ended Fosse's career), and all the other Rose crap always seemed like so much BS to me. Oh, I've always admired him for his baseball skills, you can't be a true fan of the game and not appreciate his accomplishments. But I never liked the guy.
So when Rose got caught for betting on baseball, and cheating on his income taxes, and was banned from baseball, denied admission to the Hall of Fame, and did some time in a Federal prison, I shed nary a tear. If you can't do the time, don't do the crime. He got what he deserved. And all these years of being banned from baseball were deserved, in my humble opinion. Why in the world should I feel sorry for Pete Rose?
The truth is, I don't feel sorry for Rose, reading his book has not changed that. But reading the book has solidified one thought I've always had about Rose, and that is that he belongs in the Hall of Fame. In my opinion, the Baseball Hall of Fame is about accomplishments on the baseball field. If you're going to bring character up as a consideration, then you better start talking about kicking Ty Cobb out of the hall. Not to mention every player who ever used drugs, whether it's steroids, greenies, cocaine, or what have you. And let's not forget the wife-beaters, and the criminals (yes, drunk driving is a crime). The truth is that character has never had anything to do with being worthy of Hall of Fame enshrinement, and should have nothing to do with it.
Pete Rose is the all-time leader in hits. He won three championship rings, and an MVP. He was a fixture in the All-Star game, and he was one of the main cogs on one of the greatest teams of all time, the Big Red Machine of the 1970's. He has the pedigree, and the intangibles. So, why is he not in?
Well, Pete Rose bet on baseball games, and that is the cardinal no-no of baseball, the one rule that, if broken, will get a player banned from the game. It's all about the integrity of the game, and the direct result of the Black Sox scandal, wherein members of the Chicago White Sox conspired to throw the 1919 World Series with some degenerate gamblers and criminals. It's why Shoeless Joe Jackson, who also has the pedigree for the Hall, will never get in.
For the longest time, Rose denied betting on baseball, but he has since come clean. If there was any doubt, all you have to do is read "My Prison Without Bars." He is forthright and honest about his betting activities. But he never bet against his team, and he never did anything to influence the outcome of a game he had bet on. The rule is iron-clad, and Rose's agreement with then-Commissioner Bart Giamatti was that he would accept a lifetime ban from the game. It would seem the case is closed, as far as that is concerned.
But the Hall of Fame question is different. The Hall of Fame is not really part of Major League Baseball, it is a museum in Cooperstown, New York. It celebrates the game and honors its greatest players. It is filled with tremendous players of questionable character, and it is incomplete without Pete Rose.
Rose deserves to be in, there is simply no question about that. His punishment for his crimes should be his continued banishment from being part of the game and earning a living in the game. That punishment should not extend to enshrinement in the Hall of Fame. Pete Rose's plaque should be there, along with Johnny Bench, Tony Perez, and Joe Morgan. His continued absence is a travesty.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Ted Kennedy
I have always been conflicted about Ted Kennedy. He's not the mythical, god-like figure that his martyred brother, Jack, has become in our hearts and minds. He's not the intellectual equivalent of his other murdered brother, Bobby. His presidential aspirations were destroyed one tragic night when he either deliberately allowed his passenger to die or was negligent in not being able to save her. He has had problems with alcohol and womanizing, and he played a role in the events that led to his nephew, William Kennedy Smith, being accused and put on trial for sexual assault. His shortcomings have been on display for the whole nation to see over the last four decades.
On the other hand, he spent 47 years in the United States Senate, became the voice of the Democratic Party, and was responsible for much legislation that has positively affected American's lives over the years. He wasn't afraid to wear the liberal mantle, and he wasn't ashamed to proudly work for liberal causes and issues.
He devoted his life to public service, and he paid a high price for it. He watched his beloved two older brothers be murdered, and he was forced to assume the role of family leader and patriarch. He walked his niece down the aisle at her wedding, and provided comfort and support to his widowed sisters-in-law. At times, he behaved in public like an alcoholic and he apparently overcame that over the past few years. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that he spent the last decade or so in recovery. He went through a bitter divorce, and tragic medical issues with his son. Seemingly, he got through and overcame all of that.
He never could escape the legacy of Chappaquidick. I don't believe the public has ever known the true facts of what happened. The worst that can be said is that Ted was drunk, was driving Mary Jo Kopechnie somewhere to have sex with her, had an accident and drove off the bridge (perhaps due to his alleged intoxication), saved himself from drowning, and when he couldn't save her, waited for hours until he sobered up to call the police. We don't know if that is what truly occurred, but that is the version that the Kennedy-haters have put forth ever since. Whether true or not, there were enough disturbing questions and issues left from that event to haunt Kennedy for the rest of his life. Many people believe he bought himself out of having to suffer serious consequences for his actions. Many people have never forgiven him for that. It cost him a serious run at the presidency and will forever stain his legacy.
In death, what has been most talked about are his accomplishments and leadership in the Senate, and his ability to overcome his private demons. Unlike his brothers, who in death have become larger than life, Ted Kennedy has remained a human being, flawed like everyone else, but able to withstand and overcome those personal flaws, and have a significant impact on this nation. When you look at it that way, perhaps he really was the greatest of the Kennedy's. In any event, his passing was truly significant, the end of an era. His influence will be felt for decades to come, and he will be missed.
On the other hand, he spent 47 years in the United States Senate, became the voice of the Democratic Party, and was responsible for much legislation that has positively affected American's lives over the years. He wasn't afraid to wear the liberal mantle, and he wasn't ashamed to proudly work for liberal causes and issues.
He devoted his life to public service, and he paid a high price for it. He watched his beloved two older brothers be murdered, and he was forced to assume the role of family leader and patriarch. He walked his niece down the aisle at her wedding, and provided comfort and support to his widowed sisters-in-law. At times, he behaved in public like an alcoholic and he apparently overcame that over the past few years. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that he spent the last decade or so in recovery. He went through a bitter divorce, and tragic medical issues with his son. Seemingly, he got through and overcame all of that.
He never could escape the legacy of Chappaquidick. I don't believe the public has ever known the true facts of what happened. The worst that can be said is that Ted was drunk, was driving Mary Jo Kopechnie somewhere to have sex with her, had an accident and drove off the bridge (perhaps due to his alleged intoxication), saved himself from drowning, and when he couldn't save her, waited for hours until he sobered up to call the police. We don't know if that is what truly occurred, but that is the version that the Kennedy-haters have put forth ever since. Whether true or not, there were enough disturbing questions and issues left from that event to haunt Kennedy for the rest of his life. Many people believe he bought himself out of having to suffer serious consequences for his actions. Many people have never forgiven him for that. It cost him a serious run at the presidency and will forever stain his legacy.
In death, what has been most talked about are his accomplishments and leadership in the Senate, and his ability to overcome his private demons. Unlike his brothers, who in death have become larger than life, Ted Kennedy has remained a human being, flawed like everyone else, but able to withstand and overcome those personal flaws, and have a significant impact on this nation. When you look at it that way, perhaps he really was the greatest of the Kennedy's. In any event, his passing was truly significant, the end of an era. His influence will be felt for decades to come, and he will be missed.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Tarantino
When I was in high school and college, my world revolved around film. It was never referred to as movies, it was always "film" or "cinema." I worshipped directors like Kubrick, Truffaut, and Bergman. I wrote film reviews for my college newspaper and I served on the student programming board, on the film committee, of course. Nothing was more important to me.
As time went on, other things, such as making a living, getting married, and having a family slowly took over. I became less obsessed. I still enjoyed movies and reading film reviews, but had long since given up the fantasy of becoming a film critic. And every now and then, I would discover some new director who would so inflame my film passions that I became a total fanboy. In the 70's, it was Scorcese. In the late 80's/early 90's, it was Oliver Stone. And since the first time I saw "Pulp Fiction", it's been Quentin Tarantino.
There is really no director making films these days like Tarantino. People either worship him or despise him, but there is no denying his influence on modern-day cinema. A new Tarantino film is a cause for celebration, and each new film breaks different ground for the director. I don't believe I'm being a fanboy by saying he's the most exciting director out there these days.
The first real Tarantino film (despite the fact that he did not actually direct it) was "True Romance." A quirky, off-beat, brazen mix of romance, comedy, action and violence, "True Romance" boasted a then-unknown cast that reads like a Hollywood who's who: Brad Pitt, Val Kilmer, Dennis Hopper, Christopher Walken, James Gandolfini, Samuel L. Jackson, Gary Oldman and others valiantly support Christian Slater and Rosanna Arquette in the lead roles. The brilliant dialogue, never more incisive than in the classic scene between Hopper and Walken, bursts out like street poetry. Maybe Tarantino only wrote the screenplay, but his mark is all over this film.
Next came "Reservoir Dogs", a caper film unlike any other. It was Tarantino's first turn as director, and we never actually see the botched robbery, only the events leading up to it, and immediately after it. Such Tarantino staples as graphic violence and constant use of profanity were seamlessly woven into the fascinating story. And I shouldn't forget Tarantino's use of popular music, and not just on the soundtrack. No one who has ever seen this film can listen to the Steelers Wheel song "Stuck in the middle with You", and not think of this picture.
But it was his next film which really cemented Tarantino's position as an auteur and artist. That film, of course, was "Pulp Fiction". If "Citizen Kane" created the glossary of film-making, paving the way for everything that came after it, "Pulp Fiction" took it to a whole new level. I won't go into a description of the film itself, by this time, you've either seen it or not; you either love it or not. Suffice to say, it was the most exciting, original film to come out of Hollywood in many years.
Tarantino's next films, "Jackie Brown", the "Kill Bill" films, and "Grindhouse" were all fascinating, well-made films that towered above most of the other crap you could see at the multiplex. But as good as they were, they felt like "lesser Tarantino." They were certainly entertaining and a joy to watch, but they did not get the adrenaline flowing like his first three movies.
That all changed with the release of "Inglourious Basterds." Part war film, part ode to cinema, part revisionist history, the film is Tarantino's fantasy of how he would have ended World War II if he had been made God for a day. Like most Tarantino, the film is funny, engrossing, tense, absorbing, frightening, and violent. The acting is superb, especially the unknown German television actor, Christoph Waltz as the Jew-hunting Nazi, Hans Landa. The dialogue is superb, the tension in some of the scenes is unbearable. And the climax, in what is clearly an homage to Fritz Lang's "Metropolis" contains images which have stuck with me ever since I saw the film. This is probably Tarantino's most personal film, containing the themes and values which he undoubtedly holds dear. And it is simply unforgettable.
There are far too many schlockmeisters in Hollywood today, turning out dreck like "GI Joe." There are only a few true artists, who somehow have figured how to make personal visions in films that are nevertheless popular and successful. Tarantino is that rare film artist who does things his way, is true to his vision, yet never forgets that his primary purpose is to entertain. There is no one out there like him, and nobody makes films like he does. Like Orson Welles so many years before him, Tarantino is a true film genius. Don't miss his latest masterpiece.
As time went on, other things, such as making a living, getting married, and having a family slowly took over. I became less obsessed. I still enjoyed movies and reading film reviews, but had long since given up the fantasy of becoming a film critic. And every now and then, I would discover some new director who would so inflame my film passions that I became a total fanboy. In the 70's, it was Scorcese. In the late 80's/early 90's, it was Oliver Stone. And since the first time I saw "Pulp Fiction", it's been Quentin Tarantino.
There is really no director making films these days like Tarantino. People either worship him or despise him, but there is no denying his influence on modern-day cinema. A new Tarantino film is a cause for celebration, and each new film breaks different ground for the director. I don't believe I'm being a fanboy by saying he's the most exciting director out there these days.
The first real Tarantino film (despite the fact that he did not actually direct it) was "True Romance." A quirky, off-beat, brazen mix of romance, comedy, action and violence, "True Romance" boasted a then-unknown cast that reads like a Hollywood who's who: Brad Pitt, Val Kilmer, Dennis Hopper, Christopher Walken, James Gandolfini, Samuel L. Jackson, Gary Oldman and others valiantly support Christian Slater and Rosanna Arquette in the lead roles. The brilliant dialogue, never more incisive than in the classic scene between Hopper and Walken, bursts out like street poetry. Maybe Tarantino only wrote the screenplay, but his mark is all over this film.
Next came "Reservoir Dogs", a caper film unlike any other. It was Tarantino's first turn as director, and we never actually see the botched robbery, only the events leading up to it, and immediately after it. Such Tarantino staples as graphic violence and constant use of profanity were seamlessly woven into the fascinating story. And I shouldn't forget Tarantino's use of popular music, and not just on the soundtrack. No one who has ever seen this film can listen to the Steelers Wheel song "Stuck in the middle with You", and not think of this picture.
But it was his next film which really cemented Tarantino's position as an auteur and artist. That film, of course, was "Pulp Fiction". If "Citizen Kane" created the glossary of film-making, paving the way for everything that came after it, "Pulp Fiction" took it to a whole new level. I won't go into a description of the film itself, by this time, you've either seen it or not; you either love it or not. Suffice to say, it was the most exciting, original film to come out of Hollywood in many years.
Tarantino's next films, "Jackie Brown", the "Kill Bill" films, and "Grindhouse" were all fascinating, well-made films that towered above most of the other crap you could see at the multiplex. But as good as they were, they felt like "lesser Tarantino." They were certainly entertaining and a joy to watch, but they did not get the adrenaline flowing like his first three movies.
That all changed with the release of "Inglourious Basterds." Part war film, part ode to cinema, part revisionist history, the film is Tarantino's fantasy of how he would have ended World War II if he had been made God for a day. Like most Tarantino, the film is funny, engrossing, tense, absorbing, frightening, and violent. The acting is superb, especially the unknown German television actor, Christoph Waltz as the Jew-hunting Nazi, Hans Landa. The dialogue is superb, the tension in some of the scenes is unbearable. And the climax, in what is clearly an homage to Fritz Lang's "Metropolis" contains images which have stuck with me ever since I saw the film. This is probably Tarantino's most personal film, containing the themes and values which he undoubtedly holds dear. And it is simply unforgettable.
There are far too many schlockmeisters in Hollywood today, turning out dreck like "GI Joe." There are only a few true artists, who somehow have figured how to make personal visions in films that are nevertheless popular and successful. Tarantino is that rare film artist who does things his way, is true to his vision, yet never forgets that his primary purpose is to entertain. There is no one out there like him, and nobody makes films like he does. Like Orson Welles so many years before him, Tarantino is a true film genius. Don't miss his latest masterpiece.
Monday, August 10, 2009
The arrogance of Bob Dylan
There are certain performers in the world of classic rock music who are nothing short of icons. Paul McCartney, Mick Jagger, Pete Townshend, Eric Clapton, people like that. Some would argue that the biggest icon of them all is Bob Dylan. Certainly, Dylan has had as much influence on popular music as anyone else has over the last 40 or so years. While I am not a Dylan fanboy, I certainly like a great deal of his music, and respect the man for what he has accomplished.
While I have seen live most of the greats of classic rock, there are a few glaring exceptions. One of those exceptions is Dylan, and I was looking forward with great anticipation to the concert he was to have played in an outdoor spring training stadium in Phoenix tomorrow night. I use the term "was to have played", because this past Friday, the "great one" cancelled the show. He apparently also cancelled his show the next night in Las Vegas. And the reason for the cancellations? The heat. Wait, let me say that again, the heat. The damn heat, for crying out loud!!
I mean, give me a break. It is no secret that it is brutally hot in Phoenix and Las Vegas during the summer, anyone who has ever been to those places can tell you that, not to mention those of us who have lived here for more than a quarter of a century. Plenty of musicians and entertainers come here in the summertime, anyway, knowing full well that it's going to be a hot night. I saw Paul McCartney in a sweltering Sun Devil Stadium on a hot July night in 1990. A few years before that, I saw The Police at Phoenix Giants Stadium (rip) on a night when the temperature hit 115. They both gave tremendous shows. True, at one point, Sting had to stop and drink about a gallon of water, but it didn't affect his performance. Those were two of the best concerts I have ever enjoyed.
Dylan, on the other hand, is simply an arrogant prima donna. It can't possibly be a surprise to him and his entourage that it is hot in Phoenix in August. What in God's name were they thinking? And don't they care in the slightest about the thousands of fans who were looking forward to the show? Don't we count for anything?
I am beyond disgusted. If the heat in Phoenix (and apparently Vegas) was going to be an issue, then why weren't we placed in a different spot on the tour. It's not hot here all year long. Why not play here in April or October? Why dangle the carrot if you're just going to pull it away? Would it have been so difficult to be the slightest bit considerate and schedule the Phoenix show for a cooler time of year?
It's pretty obvious to me that Dylan just doesn't care. Pretty damn arrogant of him, in my humble opinion. So, I tell you what, Bob. You and I are done. I don't buy another pair of tickets, I don't buy any more of your music. You get no more money from this Arizona desert rat. You obviously don't care about me, and I don't need you. Adios, Bob.
While I have seen live most of the greats of classic rock, there are a few glaring exceptions. One of those exceptions is Dylan, and I was looking forward with great anticipation to the concert he was to have played in an outdoor spring training stadium in Phoenix tomorrow night. I use the term "was to have played", because this past Friday, the "great one" cancelled the show. He apparently also cancelled his show the next night in Las Vegas. And the reason for the cancellations? The heat. Wait, let me say that again, the heat. The damn heat, for crying out loud!!
I mean, give me a break. It is no secret that it is brutally hot in Phoenix and Las Vegas during the summer, anyone who has ever been to those places can tell you that, not to mention those of us who have lived here for more than a quarter of a century. Plenty of musicians and entertainers come here in the summertime, anyway, knowing full well that it's going to be a hot night. I saw Paul McCartney in a sweltering Sun Devil Stadium on a hot July night in 1990. A few years before that, I saw The Police at Phoenix Giants Stadium (rip) on a night when the temperature hit 115. They both gave tremendous shows. True, at one point, Sting had to stop and drink about a gallon of water, but it didn't affect his performance. Those were two of the best concerts I have ever enjoyed.
Dylan, on the other hand, is simply an arrogant prima donna. It can't possibly be a surprise to him and his entourage that it is hot in Phoenix in August. What in God's name were they thinking? And don't they care in the slightest about the thousands of fans who were looking forward to the show? Don't we count for anything?
I am beyond disgusted. If the heat in Phoenix (and apparently Vegas) was going to be an issue, then why weren't we placed in a different spot on the tour. It's not hot here all year long. Why not play here in April or October? Why dangle the carrot if you're just going to pull it away? Would it have been so difficult to be the slightest bit considerate and schedule the Phoenix show for a cooler time of year?
It's pretty obvious to me that Dylan just doesn't care. Pretty damn arrogant of him, in my humble opinion. So, I tell you what, Bob. You and I are done. I don't buy another pair of tickets, I don't buy any more of your music. You get no more money from this Arizona desert rat. You obviously don't care about me, and I don't need you. Adios, Bob.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
The Desert Island---Part I
I belong to one of those internet social networks, and one of the fun things I did a while back was list my "Desert Island discs", that is, the 15 albums or CD's that I would have to have with me if I was stranded on a desert island. That was so much fun that I figured I would bring the concept over to my blog. Part I is going to list the 10 DVD's that I would have to have with me, then I will list the albums/CD's in Part II, the books in Part III, and toys in Part IV. We'll see how it goes. So, in no particular order, here are the top 10 movies/DVD's that I would need to have with me on my desert island and why:
1. The Godfather
My all-time favorite movie, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you why. I couldn't live out the rest of my life happily if I couldn't experience all over again Marlon Brando uttering the immortal line "I made him an offer he couldn't refuse", Al Pacino making his bones in the Italian restaurant, James Caan having his way with one of the bridesmaids at his sister's wedding, Caan again this time meeting his violent end at the Jones Beach tollbooth, and the superbly done baptism sequence of Carlo and Connie's baby. The best gangster movie ever made and more than worthy of its Academy Awards and legendary status.
2. It's A Wonderful Life
I did a blog entry some months ago about why I identify with George Bailey, so I won't go into it all again. This film is timeless and makes me cry every time I watch it. And consider this, I first showed this film to my stepson and stepdaughter eight years ago. They are now 17 and 14, moody and cynical, and very much a product of their time. Nevertheless, they still insist on seeing this black-and-white, made-in-1946 film every Christmas eve. I think that says it all.
3. The Searchers
Anyone who has ever been cynical about John Wayne should see this film. The Duke does a tremendous job of acting, and actually makes you care about a character who is racist, sexist, violent, and thinks nothing of shooting people in the back. The photography is gorgeous, the story is absorbing, and the entire production is simply beautiful. John Ford, one of the great masters of American cinema, never made a better movie.
4. Pulp Fiction
Many people don't "get" Quentin Tarantino, and I can understand why. This film, however, is simply a masterpiece. With its lopsided chronology, amazing dialogue, fascinating moral dillemas and tremendous acting, the film continues to engage and entertain. Too many unforgettable sequences to name them all, but just a few are: Travolta and Thurman's wonderful dance at Jackrabbit Slim's, Samuel L. Jackson's monologue supposedly quoting the Bible just before he kills Frank Whaley, Bruce Willis and Ving Rhymes meeting up with Zed and his buddies, and the infamous adrenaline shot scene. Dang, I want to go put it in my DVD player right now just thinking about it.
5. JFK
It's sad to see that Oliver Stone has become such a hack, and I admit that the film plays fast and loose with historical fact. Nevertheless, this is an absorbing and endlessly entertaining movie, which never ceases to get me worked up every time I watch it. I don't know if there was a conspiracy to kill JFK by the Mafia, the Cubans, the military, etc. But I certainly don't believe Oswald acted alone, and this film serves to bring out those feelings. Kevin Costner as an extremely fictionalized Jim Garrison, and the rest of the cast, are enthralling. One of the most "cinematic" films ever made.
6. Goodfellas
I love gangster movies, especially when they are done well, and this one is as great as any. I also idolize Martin Scorcese, who has made more great films than most directors. This one is my all-time favorite of his. A relentless, powerful narrative, driven by tremendous performances from Ray Liotta (never better), Robert DeNiro, Paul Sorvino and Academy Award winner Joe Pesci. This is also Scorcese's most inventive film, with freeze frames, slow motion, montages done to rock music and Liotta's narration, and the famous tracking shot of Liotta and Lorraine Bracco entering a nightclub through a back door, walking down hallways, through a busy kitchen, past busboys and chefs and waiters, and finally into the club itself where they are given a makeshift table and chairs right up front. It's all done in one unbroken shot and it is simply amazing.
7. Casablanca
Do I really need to say anything about this movie? Is there anyone out there who doesn't love it? The definitive Bogart performance, the luminous Ingrid Bergman role, the wonderfully sly and corrupt Claude Rains, the creepy Peter Lorre, etc. Probably the most loved film of all time, endlessly watchable and timeless. Here's looking at you, kid.
8. Z
Here's my one personal favorite that most people will probably scratch their heads over. If you've ever seen this film, you understand its power and greatness. But most people today, especially young people, know nothing about Z. A French-made film about a true assassination of a Greek politician, the film is directed by Constantin Costa-Gavras, a wonderful director who has also become almost forgotten today. With a relentless pace and fascinating story, not to mention one of the all-time great movie scores, the story enfolds and engulfs the viewer, eventually leaving you completely worn out. I saw this film for the first time when I was 11 years old in 1969. My cousin and I were both blown away by its power, and it remained my favorite film for most of my life. If you see no other movie I list in this blog entry, make sure to check out Z. You won't regret it.
9. The Manchurian Candidate
Forget about the remake with Denzel Washington, the original is one of the most powerful and wickedly funny political films ever made. The brainwashing sequence, where Frank Sinatra and Laurence Harvey's patrol are made to believe that they are at a ladies social club meeting, is one of the most intense sequences in cinema. The rest of the movie is equally relentless, and while the acting of the leads (Harvey, Sinatra, and the beautiful Janet Leigh) is merely adequate, the performances of the supporting players, especially a terrifying Angela Lansbury as Harvey's evil mother, are tremendous.
10. Paths of Glory
I couldn't be stranded on a desert island without a Kubrick film, and I have always believed that this is his best. While most people would pick a different Kubrick masterpiece (whether it be 2001, Dr. Strangelove, A Clockwork Orange, The Shining, etc.), I feel that this powerful, tight, relentless anti-war film is the most complete film in Kubrick's oeuvre, and the closest he ever got to perfection. The trench warfare scenes are unbelieveable, the set design is magnificent, and the acting is universally solid, including Kirk Douglas in what I believe was his best performance, and Adolph Menjou perfectly capturing all the nuances of a truly evil general. The execution scene is one of the most emotionally wringing sequences in the history of cinema.
And there you have it. The ten movies I simply couldn't live without.
1. The Godfather
My all-time favorite movie, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you why. I couldn't live out the rest of my life happily if I couldn't experience all over again Marlon Brando uttering the immortal line "I made him an offer he couldn't refuse", Al Pacino making his bones in the Italian restaurant, James Caan having his way with one of the bridesmaids at his sister's wedding, Caan again this time meeting his violent end at the Jones Beach tollbooth, and the superbly done baptism sequence of Carlo and Connie's baby. The best gangster movie ever made and more than worthy of its Academy Awards and legendary status.
2. It's A Wonderful Life
I did a blog entry some months ago about why I identify with George Bailey, so I won't go into it all again. This film is timeless and makes me cry every time I watch it. And consider this, I first showed this film to my stepson and stepdaughter eight years ago. They are now 17 and 14, moody and cynical, and very much a product of their time. Nevertheless, they still insist on seeing this black-and-white, made-in-1946 film every Christmas eve. I think that says it all.
3. The Searchers
Anyone who has ever been cynical about John Wayne should see this film. The Duke does a tremendous job of acting, and actually makes you care about a character who is racist, sexist, violent, and thinks nothing of shooting people in the back. The photography is gorgeous, the story is absorbing, and the entire production is simply beautiful. John Ford, one of the great masters of American cinema, never made a better movie.
4. Pulp Fiction
Many people don't "get" Quentin Tarantino, and I can understand why. This film, however, is simply a masterpiece. With its lopsided chronology, amazing dialogue, fascinating moral dillemas and tremendous acting, the film continues to engage and entertain. Too many unforgettable sequences to name them all, but just a few are: Travolta and Thurman's wonderful dance at Jackrabbit Slim's, Samuel L. Jackson's monologue supposedly quoting the Bible just before he kills Frank Whaley, Bruce Willis and Ving Rhymes meeting up with Zed and his buddies, and the infamous adrenaline shot scene. Dang, I want to go put it in my DVD player right now just thinking about it.
5. JFK
It's sad to see that Oliver Stone has become such a hack, and I admit that the film plays fast and loose with historical fact. Nevertheless, this is an absorbing and endlessly entertaining movie, which never ceases to get me worked up every time I watch it. I don't know if there was a conspiracy to kill JFK by the Mafia, the Cubans, the military, etc. But I certainly don't believe Oswald acted alone, and this film serves to bring out those feelings. Kevin Costner as an extremely fictionalized Jim Garrison, and the rest of the cast, are enthralling. One of the most "cinematic" films ever made.
6. Goodfellas
I love gangster movies, especially when they are done well, and this one is as great as any. I also idolize Martin Scorcese, who has made more great films than most directors. This one is my all-time favorite of his. A relentless, powerful narrative, driven by tremendous performances from Ray Liotta (never better), Robert DeNiro, Paul Sorvino and Academy Award winner Joe Pesci. This is also Scorcese's most inventive film, with freeze frames, slow motion, montages done to rock music and Liotta's narration, and the famous tracking shot of Liotta and Lorraine Bracco entering a nightclub through a back door, walking down hallways, through a busy kitchen, past busboys and chefs and waiters, and finally into the club itself where they are given a makeshift table and chairs right up front. It's all done in one unbroken shot and it is simply amazing.
7. Casablanca
Do I really need to say anything about this movie? Is there anyone out there who doesn't love it? The definitive Bogart performance, the luminous Ingrid Bergman role, the wonderfully sly and corrupt Claude Rains, the creepy Peter Lorre, etc. Probably the most loved film of all time, endlessly watchable and timeless. Here's looking at you, kid.
8. Z
Here's my one personal favorite that most people will probably scratch their heads over. If you've ever seen this film, you understand its power and greatness. But most people today, especially young people, know nothing about Z. A French-made film about a true assassination of a Greek politician, the film is directed by Constantin Costa-Gavras, a wonderful director who has also become almost forgotten today. With a relentless pace and fascinating story, not to mention one of the all-time great movie scores, the story enfolds and engulfs the viewer, eventually leaving you completely worn out. I saw this film for the first time when I was 11 years old in 1969. My cousin and I were both blown away by its power, and it remained my favorite film for most of my life. If you see no other movie I list in this blog entry, make sure to check out Z. You won't regret it.
9. The Manchurian Candidate
Forget about the remake with Denzel Washington, the original is one of the most powerful and wickedly funny political films ever made. The brainwashing sequence, where Frank Sinatra and Laurence Harvey's patrol are made to believe that they are at a ladies social club meeting, is one of the most intense sequences in cinema. The rest of the movie is equally relentless, and while the acting of the leads (Harvey, Sinatra, and the beautiful Janet Leigh) is merely adequate, the performances of the supporting players, especially a terrifying Angela Lansbury as Harvey's evil mother, are tremendous.
10. Paths of Glory
I couldn't be stranded on a desert island without a Kubrick film, and I have always believed that this is his best. While most people would pick a different Kubrick masterpiece (whether it be 2001, Dr. Strangelove, A Clockwork Orange, The Shining, etc.), I feel that this powerful, tight, relentless anti-war film is the most complete film in Kubrick's oeuvre, and the closest he ever got to perfection. The trench warfare scenes are unbelieveable, the set design is magnificent, and the acting is universally solid, including Kirk Douglas in what I believe was his best performance, and Adolph Menjou perfectly capturing all the nuances of a truly evil general. The execution scene is one of the most emotionally wringing sequences in the history of cinema.
And there you have it. The ten movies I simply couldn't live without.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Reaching a Poker Milestone
Every time I am in Las Vegas, I make sure to play at least one poker tournament at the Sahara. This is where I played in my first poker tournament four and a half years ago. The buy-in is cheap, the structure is fair, and the tournaments are usually filled with good players.
Last night, I played in the 11:00 p.m. tournament. Even though we are not staying at the Sahara, going over there to play in the tournament is like coming home, someplace that has become so familiar and comforting that it feels like I belong there. Despite that, I have never made the final table at the Sahara. I've come tantalizingly close a number of times, but never quite made it over the hump.
Until last night, or rather I should say, this morning. I started off well, playing my usual game, not entering a whole lot of pots, waiting for good starting hands. When I did enter the pot, I played aggressively. At the first break, I had built my stack from four thousand chips to fifteen thousand. I didn't even bother to do a re-buy.
As the game wore on, I would move down in chips and then come up with a big hand to stay afloat. With the blinds at 400/800, I limped in with KQ offsuit. No one raised. The flop came KQ7, rainbow. One guy bet out 2000 chips, I raised when it got to me. Everyone else folded, he re-raised me all in, and I called. This guy inexplicably had K4, obviously thinking he had the nuts (the best hand). Wrong. I knocked him out and doubled my stack.
Much later in the tournament, there was about 14 players left, and I was scuffling not to get knocked out. I looked down at KJ suited in hearts. The player to the right of me went all-in. It was the best starting hand I had seen in a while, so I did the same thing. The big stack at the table, a complete donkey who went all in with any two cards, also went all in. The guy to the right of me had K10, and the donkey had Q10. No queen or 10 showed up, so I won a huge pot and tripled up.
From there, I managed to hold on until the decent cards stopped coming and I began to get blinded out. My last stand was pathetic as I was forced to go all in with only a 45 suited. Not surprisingly, I lost (to only a 10-5) and I got knocked out in 6th place. It was 3:50 a.m. You know you've done well and earned respect when you make a final table, get knocked out, and the other players shake your hand as you get up to leave. I didn't feel bad whatsoever when I got knocked out. I would have loved to win the whole thing, but it was just not going to happen. I felt triumphant, satisfied, and very, very tired.
The irony of this whole thing is that right now, they are playing the World Series of Poker down the street at the Rio. My game has gotten so good and my confidence is so high right now that I wish I had the opportunity to play there this year, I really think I could have done well. I long to get back to the WSOP, and it has become my dream and my goal. Oh well, maybe next year.
For today, I find great comfort in the fact that, after many, many attempts, I have finally made a final table at the Sahara. Yeah, baby!!!
Last night, I played in the 11:00 p.m. tournament. Even though we are not staying at the Sahara, going over there to play in the tournament is like coming home, someplace that has become so familiar and comforting that it feels like I belong there. Despite that, I have never made the final table at the Sahara. I've come tantalizingly close a number of times, but never quite made it over the hump.
Until last night, or rather I should say, this morning. I started off well, playing my usual game, not entering a whole lot of pots, waiting for good starting hands. When I did enter the pot, I played aggressively. At the first break, I had built my stack from four thousand chips to fifteen thousand. I didn't even bother to do a re-buy.
As the game wore on, I would move down in chips and then come up with a big hand to stay afloat. With the blinds at 400/800, I limped in with KQ offsuit. No one raised. The flop came KQ7, rainbow. One guy bet out 2000 chips, I raised when it got to me. Everyone else folded, he re-raised me all in, and I called. This guy inexplicably had K4, obviously thinking he had the nuts (the best hand). Wrong. I knocked him out and doubled my stack.
Much later in the tournament, there was about 14 players left, and I was scuffling not to get knocked out. I looked down at KJ suited in hearts. The player to the right of me went all-in. It was the best starting hand I had seen in a while, so I did the same thing. The big stack at the table, a complete donkey who went all in with any two cards, also went all in. The guy to the right of me had K10, and the donkey had Q10. No queen or 10 showed up, so I won a huge pot and tripled up.
From there, I managed to hold on until the decent cards stopped coming and I began to get blinded out. My last stand was pathetic as I was forced to go all in with only a 45 suited. Not surprisingly, I lost (to only a 10-5) and I got knocked out in 6th place. It was 3:50 a.m. You know you've done well and earned respect when you make a final table, get knocked out, and the other players shake your hand as you get up to leave. I didn't feel bad whatsoever when I got knocked out. I would have loved to win the whole thing, but it was just not going to happen. I felt triumphant, satisfied, and very, very tired.
The irony of this whole thing is that right now, they are playing the World Series of Poker down the street at the Rio. My game has gotten so good and my confidence is so high right now that I wish I had the opportunity to play there this year, I really think I could have done well. I long to get back to the WSOP, and it has become my dream and my goal. Oh well, maybe next year.
For today, I find great comfort in the fact that, after many, many attempts, I have finally made a final table at the Sahara. Yeah, baby!!!
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Nickel Bag Joe and Candy Andy
I live in Maricopa County, the third largest county by population in the nation. Basically, it encompasses the Phoenix metropolitan area. Phoenix is now the fifth largest city in the nation, with a metro area of probably close to five million people. It is by and large a conservative strongpoint, with a long history of Conservative leaders with names like Goldwater, Rhenquist and McCain.
It should be a place which celebrates diversity and cultural significance. Instead, it is more and more becoming a police state ruled by two despicable, petty tyrants. Nickel Bag Joe is the alternative media's nickname for County Sheriff Joe Arpaio. The self-proclaimed "toughest sheriff in the country", notorious for his Tent City jails, where convicted DUI offenders do their ten days in custody in large canvas tents, broiling in the 115 degree heat while they feast on green bologna sandwiches. They're criminals, right? We shouldn't care about them, right? That's what Nickel Bag Joe is always telling us.
Joe's latest crusade is a self-declared war on illegal immigrants. He has conducted sweeps of Hispanic neighborhoods, arresting illegals and citizens alike, while sorting out the mess later. His storm troopers recently raided the Mesa City Hall building on a fool's errand to arrest so-called illegal immigrants seeking refuge in the building. The reality was there were two illegal immigrants as part of the overnight work crew cleaning the building, but that didn't stop Joe from putting a force together of over 40 sheriff's deputies, who stormed the building during business hours, and detained both employees and citizens alike for no reason whatsoever.
Joe's buddy is Candy Andy, otherwise known as County Attorney Andrew Thomas. Thomas is an ultra-right wing Conservative, who has supported Arapaio to the point of attacking the judiciary. Thomas has declared war on the judges of Maricopa County Superior Court, and is notorious for refusing to show any discretion on cases whatsoever and prosecuting innocent people. Recently, a young black driver was hit by another car, driven by a 19 year-old rich white girl from Scottsdale, who had been drinking all day and was nearly three times over the legal limit. There was no question that she caused the accident, and one of her passengers was killed. The black driver fled the scene, admittedly a major mistake on his part, and he found himself charged with negligent homicide, although he was completely sober, had not caused the accident, and was the driver who had been hit by the other vehicle. The rich white girl? She was only charged with a DUI in municipal court. The media exploded over the case, but Nickel Bag Joe stuck by his deputies' "investigation", and Candy Andy prosecuted the case to the hilt. After two weeks in trial, the black driver was acquitted of all charges except for leaving the scene of an accident, a misdemeanor. He spent a year in jail waiting for his case to come to trial, feasting on Joe's green bologna.
Phoenix has a very brave alternative newspaper, the Phoenix New Times. They did a series of articles on Joe and Andy, very critical and very well-researched. They brought up questions about Joe's million-dollar home, supposedly purchased on his county salary. They questioned land deals, and speculative real estate transactions. What they got for their efforts was a subpoena from Andy and Joe, demanding financial records of the paper, of the paper's founder and chief editor, and get this, email addresses of every one who has ever logged onto the paper's website. That's right, any person who dared to read the New Times online would now be on a list shared by Joe and Andy. Are you kidding me? Is this still America?
The two head honchos at the New Times were outraged by the subpoena and published it online. The result of that was their arrests during the middle of the night, by about a dozen sheriff's deputies each. It must have been the first time in American history that two journalists were arrested in the dead of night by a raiding squad of a dozen deputies and taken to jail for a misdemeanor. It was all over the media the next day, even making the national media, and by the end of the day, Candy Andy called a press conference, blaming the "error" on one of his lackeys, and stated that the charges would be dismissed, and the journalists released.
The real horror of the Joe and Andy show lies in what happens inside Joe's jails. Scores of people have been seriously injured, and even killed, inside the jails. Security and protection are a joke, and the taxpayers have been forced to foot the bill for the numerous wrongful death and abuse lawsuits filed by enraged citizens. I understand that people who drive drunk are a menace and need to serve their time, but do they do deserve to be killed or seriously beaten? One horror story I have read told about a mentally handicapped young man, falsely accused of aggravated assault, who was beaten and eventually killed by other inmates, all under the watchful eyes of Joe's henchmen. After the horrifying murder, the County Attorney's Office admitted that the young man was innocent, the initial crime was committed by another person, and the young man should never have been arrested in the first place. I'll bet his parents felt real good hearing that.
The frightening thing is that Arpaio and Thomas are seemingly untouchable. They do what they want, when they want, and no one has the stones to stop them. We keep waiting for the federal government to step in and stop this horrifying abuse of power, but it never happens. And, of course, the conservative yahoo voters of this county recently re-elected these two monsters. It's simply unbelieveable.
Welcome to Phoenix.
It should be a place which celebrates diversity and cultural significance. Instead, it is more and more becoming a police state ruled by two despicable, petty tyrants. Nickel Bag Joe is the alternative media's nickname for County Sheriff Joe Arpaio. The self-proclaimed "toughest sheriff in the country", notorious for his Tent City jails, where convicted DUI offenders do their ten days in custody in large canvas tents, broiling in the 115 degree heat while they feast on green bologna sandwiches. They're criminals, right? We shouldn't care about them, right? That's what Nickel Bag Joe is always telling us.
Joe's latest crusade is a self-declared war on illegal immigrants. He has conducted sweeps of Hispanic neighborhoods, arresting illegals and citizens alike, while sorting out the mess later. His storm troopers recently raided the Mesa City Hall building on a fool's errand to arrest so-called illegal immigrants seeking refuge in the building. The reality was there were two illegal immigrants as part of the overnight work crew cleaning the building, but that didn't stop Joe from putting a force together of over 40 sheriff's deputies, who stormed the building during business hours, and detained both employees and citizens alike for no reason whatsoever.
Joe's buddy is Candy Andy, otherwise known as County Attorney Andrew Thomas. Thomas is an ultra-right wing Conservative, who has supported Arapaio to the point of attacking the judiciary. Thomas has declared war on the judges of Maricopa County Superior Court, and is notorious for refusing to show any discretion on cases whatsoever and prosecuting innocent people. Recently, a young black driver was hit by another car, driven by a 19 year-old rich white girl from Scottsdale, who had been drinking all day and was nearly three times over the legal limit. There was no question that she caused the accident, and one of her passengers was killed. The black driver fled the scene, admittedly a major mistake on his part, and he found himself charged with negligent homicide, although he was completely sober, had not caused the accident, and was the driver who had been hit by the other vehicle. The rich white girl? She was only charged with a DUI in municipal court. The media exploded over the case, but Nickel Bag Joe stuck by his deputies' "investigation", and Candy Andy prosecuted the case to the hilt. After two weeks in trial, the black driver was acquitted of all charges except for leaving the scene of an accident, a misdemeanor. He spent a year in jail waiting for his case to come to trial, feasting on Joe's green bologna.
Phoenix has a very brave alternative newspaper, the Phoenix New Times. They did a series of articles on Joe and Andy, very critical and very well-researched. They brought up questions about Joe's million-dollar home, supposedly purchased on his county salary. They questioned land deals, and speculative real estate transactions. What they got for their efforts was a subpoena from Andy and Joe, demanding financial records of the paper, of the paper's founder and chief editor, and get this, email addresses of every one who has ever logged onto the paper's website. That's right, any person who dared to read the New Times online would now be on a list shared by Joe and Andy. Are you kidding me? Is this still America?
The two head honchos at the New Times were outraged by the subpoena and published it online. The result of that was their arrests during the middle of the night, by about a dozen sheriff's deputies each. It must have been the first time in American history that two journalists were arrested in the dead of night by a raiding squad of a dozen deputies and taken to jail for a misdemeanor. It was all over the media the next day, even making the national media, and by the end of the day, Candy Andy called a press conference, blaming the "error" on one of his lackeys, and stated that the charges would be dismissed, and the journalists released.
The real horror of the Joe and Andy show lies in what happens inside Joe's jails. Scores of people have been seriously injured, and even killed, inside the jails. Security and protection are a joke, and the taxpayers have been forced to foot the bill for the numerous wrongful death and abuse lawsuits filed by enraged citizens. I understand that people who drive drunk are a menace and need to serve their time, but do they do deserve to be killed or seriously beaten? One horror story I have read told about a mentally handicapped young man, falsely accused of aggravated assault, who was beaten and eventually killed by other inmates, all under the watchful eyes of Joe's henchmen. After the horrifying murder, the County Attorney's Office admitted that the young man was innocent, the initial crime was committed by another person, and the young man should never have been arrested in the first place. I'll bet his parents felt real good hearing that.
The frightening thing is that Arpaio and Thomas are seemingly untouchable. They do what they want, when they want, and no one has the stones to stop them. We keep waiting for the federal government to step in and stop this horrifying abuse of power, but it never happens. And, of course, the conservative yahoo voters of this county recently re-elected these two monsters. It's simply unbelieveable.
Welcome to Phoenix.
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