11 September 2014

War of the Worlds, A Film Review

Note: This review originally appeared on LuxeMont.com

Steven Spielberg is our greatest living filmmaker. He has been consistently superb in his element, which is delivering dramatic tales of survival. Some may argue that he lost his footing a few rare times along the way (Temple of Doom, 1941 and Hook), but not here. His latest film is a remake of the original 1953 film of the same title, and he brings the best out of everyone attached. Spielberg delivers the goods for an intense white-knuckled two-hour journey -- fifteen minutes in and we’re twisting uncomfortably for the remainder of War of the Worlds.

Spielberg is expert at helping us quickly understand the drama that is the Ferrier family (Tom Cruise, Dakota Fanning and Justin Chatwin); we see Tom Cruise’s Ray Ferrier as the wholly inadequate divorced, part-time dad that he is. We know instantly why Mrs. Ferrier left him and why his kids have no connection to him. He’s a selfish jerk, but not for long. Dakota Fanning is great as the youngest Ferrier trying not to mentally collapse or get vaporized by tri-pod aliens. Justin Chatwin is equally good as her older brother who is more like her father helping her stay calm.

War is very similar in feel to Jaws, Duel, Close Encounters and Jurassic Park. In each of these films we track our heroes as they confront faceless, formidable and relentless pursuers. Whether it was the submerged shark, the faceless driver of a semi, or unseen alien pilots of large cloud-covered UFOs, we sit on the edge of our seats as our heroes try everything merely to survive. Indeed, when they make it back to shore, avoid the Jurassic mouth that is trying to bite them into equal parts, or finally get to a “safe” place at a roadside café, we relax only for a moment because we know that a semi is about to crash through the phone booth, a Great White is about to try and sink the boat, or aliens are about to unscrew the hinges on the front door.

And, so it is with War. We don’t see the alien life-forms for over an hour, and then only twice. Spielberg holds the reveal back here as well, and the tension is taut when it first occurs. This film is not for children. War of the Worlds is a sci-fi horror film, full of death, blood, and tense moments. We track the Ferrier clan as they innovate their survival scramble, unwittingly traversing headlong into foreign tripod invaders, only to use every ounce of their courage, mental toughness, and physical stamina to steer clear once again. We witness real deaths, not stylized violence a la Lucas’s Star Wars. As he used the red jacket in Schindler’s List, Spielberg here uses clothing here to hauntingly remind us that these garments were once occupied by neighbors, friends, and loved ones.

This film will remind you of many other end-of-the-world scenario films, like Signs, Independence Day, and Armageddon. But, it is done in a very earthy, real manner (Signs was excellent, but lacked the FX firepower and punch that this film has). When watching War, you feel like you are on Ray Ferrier’s block and that you’ve brazenly tagged along attempting to survive. We can’t help be drawn in rather than simply watch from some removed safe distance in our $13.50 leather stadium seating. The special effects are amazing, and you will not find a single defect on the FX front. The screenplay and score are both economical, serving the overall quality of War of the Worlds. There is no misstep on the plot with “quick-fixes” that save the day deus ex machina style. Instead, we watch our protagonists suffer and attempt to survive the old fashioned way, with gritty realism, and earthling know-how. If you loved the Saturday afternoon Sci-Fi festivals on your local television stations as a kid, you’ll love this film.

10 April 2014

the Fourth Hour in the shade of a tree



April No. 10

just stay, at this hour.  let the light stop where it is.
a moment more, and it is changed.
mood, sentiment, breathless hope exhaled.

pull on the razor sharp hands of the clock.  stop time’s train in its narrow gauge.
for when history’s momentum jerks back clanging against this perfect setting,
a hazard’s worth of future turns its gaze back toward us.
with all of his cousins of hurry-ups and urgents, plying us for

our moment.  here. lovely and never to be again.



29 January 2014

Boys are silly. Thank God for that.



Sometimes you come across an old photo or a home movie and you think: "My God, I'll never get this time back." But we really do have it, don't we? In our hearts, and on our desktops, and in our sepia filtered remembrances (like all good memories are) to remind us of our loved ones. Some who passed away too young (like my little brother, Chad). Some who have been missing for far too long (like my sons' great-great-uncle Ralph, missing since the Korean War). And, of course those whom we just miss and haven't seen in forever, like friends from grad school, or neighbors from a previous home, or childhood friends who are in fact closer than a brother or sister, but somehow we haven't spoken to them in 10 or 20 years. Good gawd, I sound like a Kodak commercial! (which, believe it or not, is what I shot this little bit of footage on; an old personal 5 megapixel Kodak digital camera).

I recently found this little 30-second video clip from when my boys were eight and six (I think), and they just exude boyhood. Boyhood: when a scrap of throw-away cardboard box, and a towel tied into a cape, and a shoehorn for a sword can fill an hour of a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Boys are silly. Thank God for that.


13 February 2013

blog crush No. 2

thesartorialist.com

My first blog crush can be found over here at Tuin Woman (to see my original post, click here), where her blog/project is called Au Coin De Ma Rue.  So unique, and very interactive with individuals on the street in her joint cities of Brussels and Amsterdam.

Very much like blog crush secondus.  If you don't know of Scott Schuman's The Sartorialist, allow me to introduce you to your next time-suck on the ole triple-dub.  But, knowing the folks  that visit here episodically (you lot, there), I'm 98 points positive you all are well aware of Scott and his lovely better half, Garance Doré and their fashion blogs.  Scott Schuman has been steadily working for many fashion publications since the early successes of his blog.  This man of taste with the nonpareil "eye" of the street fashionista is really quite extraordinary ... truly.

NYTimes.com
His line of work is very similar to that of Bill Cunningham's (we all stand on the shoulders of giants, don't we?) "On the Street" column from the New York Times, except like all good bloggers looking to catch their big break from blogosphere into the mainstream, you do it on the cheap, cut out the overhead of the middleman, and then gather all of the perspiration and hard work and passion and feed it through the press of diligence and consistent preparation and let others call it luck when the marketplace loves what you have distilled.  What Scott has produced from his vine of talent is a book or two, a great video shot in Italy, and most recent, guest shots on television shows.  And, like the venerable Mr. Cunningham, it is a rite of passage for New Yorkers to have their souls (and sartorial splendor)  captured by by Mr. Schuman "on the street" -- or outside of the latest fashion event -- including the high priestess herself, viz., Anna Wintour, who certainly did earn herself an ambassadorship to the UK with all of that cheddar she raised for BHO, er, No. 44.

I thought my interest in fashion and luxury (which began in earnest after acquiring my first Armani topcoat in my teens which I proudly wore to Spago back in the day the same week my mom (sweet mum) opened her boutique) would launch a luxury network.  After law school I founded LuxeMont.com (and its various subs) a full 2 - 3 years ahead of the curve from the other websites who began chasing this high-end niche. Not quite, not just yet.

I'll be surprised if i'm not hit with a C and D (cease and desist) for my rather liberal reposting of Scott's original shots, but below are several of my all-time street shots from thesartoliralist.com., with my accompanying commentary to prove-up my bonafides as a recurrent visitor.  I've wanted to do this post for forever and a day, but today is finally the day (well, it's actually, like 2am or something thereabouts, but you get my drift, Dear Reader, especially because you also post in the middle of the night as well, n'est pas?).

Easter in Harlem, New York City:
I mean, would you look at this shot?  Good gawd that's good.  Good?  Nah, brilliant.  Makes me sick with envy to see Scott so good at what he does.  The gentleman in the suit looks like the type of cat that Tommy might meet up with at the crossroads to sell his ever-lovin' soul (nod to O Brother, Where Art Thou?).  He has that vibe that Tarantino searches for in his films.  Dude is just B-A-D A-Double-Ass.  If there were ever a time to visit Harlem for a fashion photog uber blogger, Easter Sunday is the day. Can I get an Amen?!  As someone who lived in South Central for almost ten years, I know of which I speak when it comes to an Easter parade.

thesartorialist.com

University Place, New York City:
I hate to quote myself, but what the hay (or is it hey! ?): Unbeknownst to Scott, he has captured "Botticelli's 'birth of venus' writ moderne."  Truly extraordinary coincidence! I mean look at the wind in her hair; the hair color; the pose.  All we need is a clam shell behind the poor girl, et voila!  Writ moderne, baby.  But, Mr. Schuman does that continually, viz., he captures a moment with his skilled eye and he nails his subject mid-pose, almost a mise en scene of a street artist.  Because that's what Scott is, a moving, roving artist with camera (say it like Jenna from 30Rock, CAmerahh, to capture the Manhattan moment of it all) in hand, and he snaps and snags and shares with us his day's catch, dragging it back to the cave for all of us in his tribe to appreciate and become sated with his subjects' unique choice for ensemble.

thesartorialist.com


New Oxford Street, London
Well, below is my favorite shot ever on thesartorialist.com.  How can a photog get this lucky?  I'm talking about her porcelain doll skin color, the wet pavers, the black/dark brown background, her ensemble (or is it a uniform and she a player?), the colors of her coat (even its lining!), the bows in her hair, her ruby red lipstick, and would you look a that ribbon tied on her case?  Good cripes this shot kills me.  What say you, Dear Reader?  We already know what Karena *(our blogger pal at her eponymous named blog ... see her comment below as well!).
thesartorialist.com

Poolside, Los Angeles:
Had to comment here, because, frankly Scott is never in LA.  Well, rarely.  LA has so much style, but it is not displayed or concentrated like it is in New York because truly no one walks in LA (great Motel's song from the 80's), and we have this urban sprawl thing happening here in LA County and SoCal.  But, there is a great deal fashion and style, and one does see it exemplified in the rapidly gentrifying downtown LA district, East LA, West Hollywood/Melrose area, Los Feliz, Santa Monica and of course Beverly Hills, but it's a bit dated.
thesartorialist.com
thesartorialist.com
thesartorialist.com
Rupert Street, London
I've seen this dude on thesartorialist.com a few times.  He's got this "v" thing happening.  His hand tat, the lapels of his jacket, the shape of his face/beard, everything is a wedge on this fellow, as he pierces his way through life.

So, there you have it.  My fascination and envy of a simple yet impactful blog.  This 'blog crush No. 2' is but one of about 10 posts just sitting, waiting to be properly edited and completed, lurking in the bowels of the vast file system of the ole porkster.  Writing and posting takes a bit out of you, especially if you have anything else more important to do.  Nice to finally get this one scratched off of the whiteboard as they say.