According to an email sent out to SAG members on Thursday, the national board will be meeting next weekend to discuss a vote on the strike. It could take 30-45 days to hold such a vote, but if 3/4 of the voting members support the strike, the national board could call an actual strike if they deem it necessary. All this means is…oh s%*t. This could…ok would be worse then the WGA strike. During that one they could write for themselves, and still act (I’m convinced American Carol was conceived during the strike). During this strike, the writers would have to act…that would be fun, to see Charlie Kaufmann replace Jack Bauer…actually…
, Jesse Eisenberg (The Squid and the Whale, Roger Dodger) is in the final stages of signing on for Ruben Fleisher’s (this being his first major feature film) Zombieland, a zombie comedy. It is said that Eisenberg would play a shut-in who is an expert at surviving zombies, but not at being around people.
Sounds interesting. Let’s hope it can be as good as Shaun of the Dead without feeling like a cheap ripoff. I imagine we’ll hear more about it over the next few weeks. Keep your eyes peeled.
I never thought I would see the day, Paul Newman is gone. He died on Friday, at his home in Connecticut, from complications from cancer. Mr. Newman was not only a fabulous actor, but he started a vast philanthropic food company, Newman’s Own, that produces some of the finest (in this author’s humble opinion) food you can pick up at the grocery store. Over the history of the company, 100% of the profits have been donated to charity, the total donated just surpassed $220 million. Not exactly a paltry sum.
Newman will be most remembered for his performances in The Hustler, The Sting, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and Cool Hand Luke. (PS, if you haven’t seen any of these, after you get finished punishing yourself, drive yourself over to the nearest Blockbuster and rent every single one.)
He personified cool, and showed the world that you could still be an actor and a human being. He will be missed.
Two years ago, Hungarian filmmaker György Pálfi made a darkly comic familial splatter film based on the short stories of absurdist writer Lajos Parti Nagy. A vomtorium that dissects the inner workings, obsessions, and gluttonous fetishes of the Kálmán’s past three generations. A timeline laced and dripped into the warm, spent human ooze from Dante’s Circles of Hell. This film Taxidermia (2006) sounds like John “Se7en” Doe’s cup of tea.
The three generations syndrome by German novelist Thomas Mann follows the scheme that the grandfather starts the family on its course, then his son, the father, raises the family to the pinnacle of success so that the last generation’s son would waste it and start anew.
Dutch, once upon a time English, filmmaker Peter Greenaway applied this three generation scheme to filmmaking and concluded that the bold grandfather of the cinema was D.W. Griffiths who made the first narrative-sophisticated feature film Birth of a Nation (1915) - a pity it is irredeemably racist. The renegade father of the cinema was Orson Welles who perfected the medium with the towering Citizen Kane (1939). Then the mutinousson of the cinema beingJean-Luc Godard broke and rearranged cinematic conventions by way of the French New Wave with Breathless (1960).
I was about to summarize the plot but I think the trailer does a better job than I ever could.
Fair warning: the trailer gets pretty freaky.
I really dig that smash cut with the crying rooster.
Here’s the international one: it’s quite vivid.
A round of applause for the sickly fascinating website with the droning music and the decadently gruesome images. When you get to the spinning pin wheel, click on the same image twice to navigate to a new link in the site. Montreal-based Brazilian musician/DJ Amon Tobin scores the film and it sounds subterranean.
I have not seen this film just yet, not for a lack of stomach mind you. I’d have gladly bought a DVD released by Tartan outside of North America had I not found out about the Hungarian produced two-disc special edition. It is packaged like a slab of meat wrapped in cellophane - “Cause you can look right through me. Walk right by me” (couldn’t help myself!) - sold in supermarket.
Disc One features the film in an anamorphic widescreen transfer with Dolby 2.0, Dolby 5.1 and DTS 5.1 soundtracks. Optional English subtitles are included. Supposedly there is a DVD version that includes a director’s commentary but is not included here.
Disc Two has a 42 minute production, 30 minutes of deleted scenes, with optional director’s commentary, 8-minute visual design and concept gallery, 3 minute stills gallery, Hungarian and International trailers, two music videos by the band Hollywoodoo, Taltosember vs Ikarus - a 20 minute short film by György Pálfi, storyboards, and an interactive game.
Unfortunately, the Hungarian retailers are keeping this DVD edition a secret from the rest of the world. Anyone who knows how I can get a copy of this special edition would be greatly appreciated.
Columbia Pictures espionage thriller Edwin A. Salt, once expected to star Tom Cruise, will be rewritten by screenwriter Kurt Wimmer as a return vehicle for Angelina Jolie, reports Variety. Philip Noyce remains attached as director and Lorenzo di Bonaventura and Sunil Perkash are producing.
The movie is set to premier in 2010.
Jolie is close to a deal to play the title character, a CIA officer who’s accused by a defector of being a Russian sleeper spy and must elude capture long enough to establish her innocence. She took a liking to it, prompting the studio’s decision to rewrite it. The trade adds that the project won’t require that much of an overhaul to suit her.
Edwin A. Salt will undergo a title change, obviously, and if everything falls into place, the film shapes up as a return vehicle for Jolie, who recently gave birth to twins. Another candidate for her return is the Lionsgate drama Atlas Shrugged.
Poor, poor Dubya. With only half-a-year of his presidency left, Oliver Stone has him in the cross hairs and is ready to fire October 29th.
Two months since we have gotten the all-type Bushism poster, now here is the trailers that have official hit:
Trailer #1:
Trailer #2:
Looks like we’re going to see Dubya as all too human here. Much like how Stone saw Nixon in his excellent 1995 feature as a tragic figure worthy of Hamlet.
Hamlet: A man may fish with the Bush that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that Bush.
Just don’t skimp on the flaws, Oliver!
Switching faces from tragedy to comedy, here is the new trailer for Mike Leigh’s upcoming Happy-Go-Lucky. This one is made for the North American audiences so be sure to take a shot of Insulin Glargine.
Now this trailer is just dying to make this bittersweet British comedy come across as a sweet-and-low Julia Roberts vehicle. A desperate attempt turning indie gold look like mainstream schmaltz. It has the banal Disneyesque-pop music cues, the kid-friendly editing wipes (swooshing sound effects are not optional), the garishly bubblegum-polished graphics, and the voice-over narration of Don LaFontaine in syrupy mode. Is Miramax really stooping this low for a Best Picture nom?
News Flash: a dozen years ago Mike Leigh’s Secrets and Lies (1996) got the coveted nomination, so have a little faith!
The international trailer that I wrote about 3 months ago is far superior and actually feels like it has the fingerprints of Mike Leigh on it. The sophisticated animated graphics with the cute and gritty edge - check! An editing aesthetic that does not condescend - check! The quirky yet somber soundtrack by Gary Yershon - check!
Question: Am I the only one waiting for the melancholy soundtracks of composer and Mike Leigh regular Andrew Dickson (High Hopes - 1988, Naked - 1993, All or Nothing - 2002, Vera Drake - 2004) to be released?
Happy-Go-Lucky will speak for itself (in limited release) on October 10th.
Adolescence is a trial no matter what gender one is. The confliction can be so crippling that it damages and ultimately defines one as an adult. There have been many films, some good, about experiencing teenage angst and the need to break free or remain grounded. Either way can produce regret later in life. This film XXY has treaded new ground by presenting a teenager whose entire identity, both internally and anatomically, is unusual to a majority of people. Funnily enough, uniqueness of this case makes the experience all the more universal. The teenager is named Alex and is fifteen years old. Alex has a choice this summer that boggles one’s mind toward fantasy. The choice is whether Alex should resume the rest of life as male or female.
Alex is a hermaphrodite. Alex looks like a teenage girl but possesses the make-up of a boy that he/she has deluded with pills of estrogen. Alex is cared for by her parents Kraken (brilliantly by Ricardo Darín) and Suli (Valeria Bertuccelli) who live, for their child’s sake, in a wooden turquoise cabin near the seaside in Uruguay after having moved from Argentina. Her father works as an oceanographer who possesses a protectiveness, even for the wounded sea turtles he studies. The key for observing this challenging and brave film is by possessing the empathy that Kraken has. He is quiet, smart, unobtrusive, and lashes out only when someone endangers his child. Rarely has a father been portrayed on film with such loveliness.
There is an astonishing sequence late at night where Kraken seeks out a frank older man who presents pictures of himself as a child — pictures of girl! Kraken listens calmly and curiously to the difficult experiences of this struggling hermaphrodite. He is so involved with understanding his “daughter” that he is simply removed from prejudice: “Making her afraid of her body is the worst thing you can do to a child”. This character was so easy for me to gravitate towards.
Inés Efron portrays Alex with much bravado and vulnerability. She instinctively performs her character’s struggle with tendencies ruled by her intersex. Alex’s struggle is made more difficult by the arrival of Ramiro (Germán Palacios), his wife Erica (Carolina Pelleritti), and their teenage son Álvaro (Martín Piroyansky). Ramiro is a surgeon who has been invited over, whether Kraken ad Suli decide to inform him at all, to perform corrective sex surgery in secret. Álvaro and Alex form a fragile friendship as their lazy days on beach pass creepily by. The dialogue between the two teenagers is startlingly frank:
Alex: “I’ve never fucked anyone. Want to now?”
Álvaro: “With who?”
Alex: “With me.”
Álvaro: “You’re too young.”
Alex: “I’m only fifteen.”
Eventually there is a confrontation midway into the film where Álvaro and Alex are caught up in one another’s sexual crisis. They are compelled by their need to connect with each other as well as their own confused and highly guarded urges. For anyone who felt uneasy watching the emotionally mature Brokeback Mountain (2006), will probably suffer a Scanners moment when they witness how the tables turn in an act of mounting. The tone of the picture achieves the right balance of sentimentality and a hardened sense of reality. The characters are well rounded and respond realistically to their circumstances. They remain true to their human nature. Rawness is ubiquitous. The nakedness of the performers both emotionally and viscerally approaches the tact of Cathrine Breillat’s brilliant Fat Girl (2001).
Natasha Braier’s desaturated cinematography and its conscious color palette throughout the film is very effective. The picture ranges from black shadows and rich sepia hues at night to the daylight’s gray roads, near white sand, harsh blue sky with occasional splashes of green foliage. The main titles takes place underwater where strange alien-like creatures pulsate and blow bubbles amongst the web-like reefs. The intimidating tone of the film is more creepy than most of the generic suspense thrillers that came out this year. The music by Andrés Goldstein and Daniel Tarrab compliments by being subtly somber.
This film, winner of the Critics Week Grand Prize at Cannes 2007, marks the directorial debut of Lucía Puenzo, daughter of Luis Puenzo (Oscar nominee The Official History, 1986). She adapted her screenplay from the short story Cinismo by Sergio Bizzio. After much writing for TV and feature films, Puenzo arrives fully formed as a talented and visceral storyteller. How the characters deal with the aftermaths and revelations of their actions are executed without negligence while maintaining some ambiguity that they are reasonably unable to capture at that age. Somehow, Puenzo’s film bares resemblance to Kimberly Peirce’s searing Boys Don’t Cry (1999) and achieving a niche of its own. This is one of the best movies of the year.
I wept throughout the last two minutes of The Dark Knight and applauded rapturously throughout the end credits. This is the Batman movie I have been waited for ever since I discovered the Batman comics at the age of five. It is unrelentingly grim; however, it is also very optimistic because the power of good, slight as it is, glows against the darkness. When hopelessness engulfs its victims, true heroism at its most intangible and mysterious can shine in the corridors of the heart. Here, sacrifice is the key to combat such harrowing evil. I love exhilarating tragedies. This film has a prominent place on my list of the best films of the decade alongside the Dardenne Brother’s Le Fils (2003), Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood (2007), Nicole Holofcener’s Lovely and Amazing (2002), Guillermo del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) and Mike Nicols’ Wit (2001). I love this movie so much that, despite the obvious legalities attached to this proposition, I want to ask Christopher Nolan’s permission to marry his movie.
In terms of on-screen performances, I’d like to do something rather radical, and focus on the work of Aaron Eckhart as Harvey Dent first. My first confrontation with Eckart was as Chad, the all-too-credible venomous charmer in Neil Labute’s In The Company of Men (1997). In that film, Chad persuades his pal Howard (Matt Malloy), an earnest lemming, while on their business venture out of town to play a cruel joke on a pretty, deaf woman (Stacy Edwards). It was a small masterpiece about how a sterile, corporate environment breeds nihilistic alpha males, nebbishes and their victims. Eckhart’s work was phenomenal in depicting misanthropy with such unnerving – in the worst sense of the word – humanity. This was a character actor to watch out for.
Throughout the last ten years, I’ve seen him shine in the corners of Your Friends and Neighbors (1998), Nurse Betty (2000), The Pledge (2001), and Conversations with Other Women (2005). Finally, Jason Reitman cast Eckhart as an earnest tobacco lobbyist in Thank You For Smoking (2005), which launched him into the mainstream as a leading man who could dive in the taboo stream (“It is in our best interest to keep Robin (Cancer Boy) alive and smoking!”) and retain his likability - he could smile his way through manslaughter if he wanted.
As Gotham City’s new White Knight, District Attorney Harvey Dent, Eckhart has finally delivered an astonishing performance in a mainstream blockbuster. Eckhart is so good that he deserves nomination talk along with Heath Ledger, who I will write about later. Throughout the first half of the picture, Eckhart is perfect as the passionate, though moody D.A. with his brooding forehead and easy smile. So eager to hang up the cape, Batman (Christian Bale) looks to Dent as a fearless crusader, his equal minus the mask, who could take down the mob and return Gotham to form. They both give one another strength like yin and yang: “You can’t quit!” Dent is a man who would rather face on powerful criminals in court (“I haven’t finished question him, your honor!”) than hobnob alone with stuck-up socialites at his re-election fund raiser. He simply prefers to make his own fate.
Now that Dent has become a symbol of heroism, it becomes increasingly difficult as a human being to remain pure and without flaws. Harvey Dent encapsulates a truth that courteous people are capable of monstrous deeds, much like the Brendon Gleeson character in In Bruges (2008). Batman supports Dent as they work with Commissioner Gordon (Gary Oldman), who has finally embraced Batman since their last encounter in Batman Begins (2005). There is a wonderful shot up on the roof of police headquarters that circulates around the three defenders next to the beaming bat-signal post all in one take. Dent and Gordon argue loudly about apprehending a money embezzler linked to the mob, while Batman stands opposite, observing them. Batman has become so integrated in this world that the suits don’t even blink at a man dressed as a bat.
The only problem Batman’s alter ego Bruce Wayne has with Dent is his infatuation with his legal partner Rachael Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal - she owns this role) before his life was tarnished by the murder of his parents. Having realized himself as Batman to combat the corruption in his city, the criminal element has escalated to extremes both theatrical and insane. Enter the Joker (Heath Ledger), a disfigured and greasily made up sociopath who takes great pride as a showman inflicting anarchy and death. “This city deserves a better class of criminal.”
Batman must exhaust all of his resources to take down the clown prince of crime. His allies are indispensable making the symbolic feat of Batman more effective. Morgan Freeman gives Lucius Fox, a Gotham version of James Bond’s M, a cool delivery and a powerful stand against an abuse of moral power in dire times. This time Batman actually flies. Michael Caine is graceful as Alfred who gives voice to Batman’s conscience. Usually on hand for welcome comic relief, Alfred’s own back story presents a cynical alternative to take down a powerful enemy: “We burned the forest down.”
The music by Hans Zimmer (a David Cronenberg favorite) and James Newton Howard (Signs, 2002) excels at balancing urgency, dread and despair. At key points, particularly the opening sequence, they heighten the frequency on an electric guitar to create a tense stringing sound like a violin being brutally tuned. The emphasized string theme for Harvey Two-Face (yes, I own the soundtrack) is unforced, sad, and even – dare I say it – noble. There are many musical cues that were lifted from their own score for Batman Begins. Close listeners will recall the music that plays over Joker’s getaway as he leans out the window of a moving automobile, relishing the cold wind blowing in his face, is the same as when Alfred proposes “a little supper” to a devastated child. The music of the series makes its own fantastic niche amongst the unique, rich and haunting scores from past Batman adaptations by Danny Elfman and the late Shirley Walker. The music for Batman the Animated Series as a CD collection remains criminally out of reach. Warner Bros. - what are you waiting for?
Christopher and Jonathan Nolan are not afraid to stray away from the technicalities of the batman universe in order to engage their personal imaginings of their own excitably dense and layered, though always coherent and logical, means of storytelling (re: Memento, The Prestige). Just look at what they did to Barbara. Another example of their substitution for the Batcave: an underground concrete-walled box with a gridded light-screened ceiling that extends for hundreds of feet. Its cold and ordered spaciousness suits this Batman rather than the elaborate black-rocked cavern warped by centuries that we’ve come to expect. This choice is coherent with where we left Batman last - Wayne Manor was burned to the ground at the end of Batman Begins - and the Nolan brothers rightfully figure that its reconstruction would be proceeding at this time. This example show how meticulous and adventurous Nolan brothers are in constructing every facet evident throughout the production. Imagine how it could look in the third Batman installment!
Based on a story by David S. Goyer (Dark City, 1998), the film is briskly paced thanks to the economical editing of Lee Smith. To Christopher Nolan’s credit, he knows when to savor a good thing (eg.: Heath Ledger’s performance). Halfway into the picture, a nerve-wracking countdown that demands an impossible choice and a high speed pursuit is so exciting that a lesser filmmaker might be content to leave it as a climatic denouncement. Christopher Nolan is so generous he’s concocted the means to raise the stakes even higher. The arduous mile taken to film twenty minutes of establishing shots and action sequences using the 70mm IMAX camera is revolutionary for feature films. The clarity of these shots makes the illusion on screen seem strangely tangible.
The look of the film by cinematographer Wally Pfister (always employed by Nolan) and production designer Nathan Crowley (The Lake House, 2006) is stellar. Gotham City, filmed again in the windy city Chicago, is gothic and beautiful with an emphasis of yellow, green, and blue hues at night. The futuristic atmosphere is toned down here compared to Batman Begins with its obvious Blade Runner influences. The camera choices by Nolan are tasteful and exciting. There are deft tracking shots that prove time and again that a moving camera is an involving one.
The make-up and visual effects that helped transform Harvey Dent into Two-Face made me grin ear to ear. I love how the suspended bloodshot eyeball twitches and how the jaw and cheek muscles slide behind the burnt flesh. The lead up to the revelation of his face is well handled with a well-timed tease that cuts away to Gordon’s double take (if you’ll pardon the expression). Two-Face is everything I wanted from the deranged, tragic character since I saw his excellent origin story written by Alan Burnett and Randy Rogel in the apt two-parter Two-Face in Batman: The Animated Series. He inspires a walking nightmare - an angel who got too close to the flame.
I was struck by the love triangle because the romance genuinely looks like it’s populated with adults. As Rachel Dawes, Gyllenhaal is so striking and lovely with her crooked smile, her laugh-lines, and her empathetic eyes. It’s a real improvement over the baby-faced Katie Holmes who did her best in the first Batman film. Christian Bale is the man - the definitive Batman who interrogates thugs suspended by dizzying heights (I love what happens to a mobster’s ankle) and growls his dialogue with such deep-throated authority. Yes, that’s my Batman.
The use of viral marketing over the past year has integrated the film sublimely. For example, those who signed up for news regarding this superhero epic have had e-mails of ‘I Believe in Harvey Dent’ calls to action for re-election. When Wayne criticizes them without displaying a single one in the film, I felt more connected in this world. Having pointed out Harvey Dent’s Win for D.A. and Gordon’s Ambush via Phone, I feel most compelled to point out the coolest plug for my guiltiest pleasure here.
Finally, the Joker. I love the Joker. I am intoxicated by the essence of this villain. Some of my personality and my artwork has been inspired by this all-knowing character with the sinister grin. Jack Nicolson’s version amused me as a toddler. One of my fondest memories is when I was nine, when my sister took me to a local comics convention and I got to meet Bruce W. Timm and Paul Dini, the creators of Batman: The Animated Series, arguably the best superhero-inspired animated show ever made. When Bruce W. Timm asked me which character I wanted him to draw for me…well, the Joker is framed on the wall to the left of my computer.
We’ll just ignore Michael Goguen’sThe Batman, the alternative to an aborted fetus, and maybe it will go away.
Mark Hamill’s voice work as the Joker in Batman: The Animated Series was my favouritefor years. I can do a mean imitation of that version. This Joker, as penned by the great Paul Dini, was at his best when he tortured specific people as a hobby or when he threw his poor lovesick henchwench Harley Quinn out of a window and later sent her a Get Well Soon card at the hospital. The Joker’s relationship to Batman is a zealous one driven by ego. When the Joker thought Batman was dead, he held a ghoulish funeral where he mused for it was the Batman who made me the happy soul I am today. How I agonized for the perfect way to thank him for that. Perhaps with a cyanide pie to the face!“
Not only has Christopher Nolan and Heath Ledger tapped into the spirit of that wonderful Joker, but their reinvention of the character is truly brilliant. The happy bracket scars around this Joker’s sadistically grinning lips brings to mind an image from Ichi The Killer. This Joker was not dropped into a vat of chemicals. He was never the Red Hooded Man or Jack Napier. His origin is lost to an abyss of torture. The fact that this Joker actually applies the white make-up, dyes his stringy hair green, and applies slashes of blood-red lipstick to himself makes him even creepier. His warped identity is driven by choice.
Tragically we have lost the late Heath Ledger as well as the chance to see him in dozens of unrealized roles, has created a Joker that will be revered for decades. If the Academy chooses to honor the dead, he will be nominated this year, but it is deserving of the lead and not the supporting one. This Joker speaks in a Chicago accent, licking his lips, chewing his words like they were steak. The intent of his diction differs from the trailer so most of the real takes weren’t spoiled. I’ll never forget the way he roars “LOOK! AT! ME!” at an abducted Batman copycat. What’s more is that the Joker is a brilliant terrorist. The Joker’s mind isn’t just screwy, it’s labyrinthine. I love the shot where the camera rotates on the Joker suspended upside-down, just as he finishes explaining his true victory to Batman, he is right-side up but the city behind him is topsy-turvy. The best and most surreal image of the whole film depicts The Joker bombing a hospital in broad daylight and then boarding a school bus.
How exhilarating it is to see a vision so personal and tragic in a multi-million dollar studio picture. Especially in times where studio execs aim for what they dubiously calculate to be the public majority; the lowest common denominator. The Dark Knight delivers such soaringly smart drama and action using a comprehensible film aesthetic. Audiences are sending a strong message to the studios by their attendance and returns. The Dark Knight is currently one of the largest grossing films of all time. The IMDB website records it within the top three films having tallied a public poll, beating Francis Ford Coppola’s long-standing champion The Godfather (1972). Whether a cash-devouring blockbuster can be measured by its economical value for its artistic value is another essay for another day. The demand for quality in future motion pictures is deafening.
The comic-book movie genre has crossed swiftly to the elevated acres of great pulp drama. Kudos Warner Bros. It’s a pity that Bob Kane couldn’t have lived another ten years to see this film. Take a bow, Christopher Nolan, and wow us with a great finale in your Batman trilogy. I think Josh Lucas would make the perfect Riddler, a slithery mastermind with a sinister grin. And who’s to say it’s not too late to throw Harley Quinn into the mix. I’d love to see Amy Adams in clown make-up turn sociopath.
Funny, I always knew that the one to get Batman right would be a Christopher.
The Wachowski Brothers seem to have a little man crush on Keanu Reeves or least they respect his acting (try to contain your laughter) enough to recruit him for their latest project, a rumored new Plastic Man flick. The Wachowskis penned a script based on the stretchy comic book character back in the ’90s and now it seems they’ve revived the idea with the help of producer pal Joel Silver.
The Irish-American who tried the FCC by delivering the “Seven Dirty Words You Can’t Say on Radio or Television” on broadcast radio is gone. At 71 years of age, George Carlin, one of the very best and radical stand-ups, died of a heart failure on Sunday the 22nd in Santa Monica, California.
Carlin was extremely influential. I am reminded of Lewis Black, one of his descendants who decreed that “there is no such thing as bad language” because we need those words to convey all the shit we go through. Through his comedy, Carlin channeled important issues like women’s rights, race, religion, and sports.
Another of Carlin’s obsessions is how the English Language is used and abused. Here’s a taste: “The phrase sour grapes does not refer to jealousy or envy. Nor is it related to being a sore loser. It deals with the rationalization of failure to attain a desired end. In the original fable by Aesop, The Fox and the Grapes, when the fox realizes he cannot leap high enough to reach the grapes, he rationalizes that even if he had gotten them, they would probably have been sour anyway. Rationalization, that’s all sour grapes means. It doesn’t mean deal with jealousy or sore losing. Yeah, I know you say, ‘Well many people are using it that way, so the meaning is changing.’ And I say, ‘Well many people are really fuckin’ stupid too, shall we just adopt all their standards?’”
Carlin did a handful of supporting roles in such films as Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1990), and John Lasseter and Joe Ranft’s Cars (2006). He was a favorite of Kevin Smith in Dogma (1999), Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back (2001), and Jersey Girl (2004). For me, I will beam with joy whenever I recall Carlin as Cardinal Ignatius Glick when introducing Catholicism Wow’s Buddy Christ - “He was a booster!”
Here’s a short Bob Kurtz animation Drawing on the Mind narrated by the man of the dour.
Carlin as an artist not only tackled the controversial, but more importantly he did it with grace and gauze-required wit. He was a man after my own heart: “Most people are not particularly good at anything.” Like Oedipus, George Carlin was a really great motherfucker and he will be missed.
The Wachowski Brothers seem to have a little man crush on Keanu Reeves or least they respect his acting (try to contain your laughter) enough to recruit him for their latest project, a rumored new 