August 30-September 4, 2010
This week, in “Dysphonia,” Travis Wright gives you a head start on the 25 best albums of the year in “In case you’ve been sleeping” and Mike Vincent shows “AlternaDad” Neal Pollack how it’s done in “Never Mind the Hack”
In “The Cinepiles,” everyone is looking over their shoulder. Kevin Mattison peers in on Michael Haneke’s 2005 film Caché in “It’s the unanswered questions that haunt us” and Adam Simmons reveals the secrets of the 1970s paranoid film in “Panic in the 70s”
In “In the Queue,” Tim Carmody names the top five TV comedies of the past decade, and promises to watch them all on Netflix (as if he hasn’t already.) Read “Laughing again, streaming this time”
In “Diary of a Casual Gamer,” Gavin Craig comes to terms with his Mafia Wars addiction, and promises to never ask you to send him an energy pack again. Read “Click, click, click”
In “Rounding Third,” Angela Vasquez-Giroux explains why Miguel Cabrera should be the 2010 American League MVP. (Hint, it has something to do with performing even when your team is down. Also William Butler Yeats.) Read “Miggy and the Minors”
And in “The F Word,” Jill Kologowski introduces herself: a food writer in a “new and fragile relationship with vegetables” who never says no to ice cream sometimes. Read “Getting started, or, Taking it slow with vegetables”
Never Mind The Hack
Neal Pollack is a hack. There. I said it. Many years ago while working in a bookstore (slowly running their music department into the ground) I scored a advance copy of his book, Never Mind the Pollacks, wherein this charming hack re-imagines himself into pivotal points in the historical fabric of rock. I thought the book sucked a bag of dicks but I did find something positive to write for the publisher. (Yes, I realize the intent of the book is to lampoon, but still.) A few years later I received a bag o’ galleys from a dear friend who still works in the bookstore. In the stack was the book AlternaDad by….gasp…Neal Pollack.
I never finished the book, but I did give it a try. There is one section of the book that sticks with me in my old age, and that is the segment when Mr. Pollack (from now on referred to as “The Hack”) has Music Listening Time with his son. I only remember two of the artists he mentions: the Ramones and the Aquabats. The Hack fashions himself a hipster and he is trying to pass on his hipster tastes to his son. This I can relate to.
Panic in the 70s
Films are time capsules. They reflect the trends of the era: The fashion, the cars, and the political climate. Nowhere is this more evident than in the films of the 70s. Just as film was evolving, we were evolving as a nation. Presidential scandals are fairly commonplace now but in 1972 the nation was rocked by Watergate. That, coupled with the growing dissatisfaction with the U.S. involvement in Vietnam, created a climate of unrest and mistrust with the government and it wasn’t long before those feelings translated to film. Thus, a niche genre was created in 1974 that had a healthy life throughout the decade: The paranoid thriller.
In a paranoid thriller you don’t know who to trust. You don’t trust your friends, you don’t trust your government and you certainly don’t trust your lover. Your home isn’t safe. Maybe it’s been bugged. You don’t go to the police. Maybe they’re in on it.
It’s the unanswered questions that haunt us
Michael Haneke’s Caché is maddening. It is hypnotic. It is menacing. It is a voyeuristic film, always looking from the outside when the true danger may lie within.
The film opens with a static shot of a relatively non-descript home in Paris. The shot is so still that we almost think we are looking at a picture. It is only when a lone biker passes through the frame that it becomes apparent we are watching the house in real time. Later, when we hear the voices of Georges and Anne Laurent coolly discussing the footage we realize that we are actually watching a video, which had been left on the couple’s doorstep. The non-descript home in the shot belongs to them.
Eventually, a tape is left which contains walking footage leading up to a nearby apartment. Georges retraces the video’s steps. He accuses the apartment’s owner of being involved. The owner denies it and we believe him, but these two men do know each other. When Georges leaves, the owner breaks down in tears. We find this out when Georges receives another tape.
Laughing again, streaming this time
The decade’s five best, most influential comedies are all on Netflix’s “Watch Instantly” online streaming service. What are the odds?
In this short series, I’m going to watch each of them—notice I’m using the future tense, even though I’ve totally gone back and watched all of these—and pick them off and break them down one by one. How have they held up? What do we learn about them (and about us) by rewatching them? I’ll also pull in some additional commentary—some from earlier in the decade, some later—that helps offer some perspective on (re)watching these series. And I’ll definitely be letting you know what I think, offering my take on how we got here.
Click, click, click
“I thought you’d given that up,” my wife said as she caught me trying to sneak in a few minutes of Mafia Wars.
“I did,” I said.
“And yet there you are: click, click, click.”
I’ve actually given up Mafia Wars several times over the past few years, and, believe it or not, this last time has largely stuck. I may have mastered the New York, Cuba, Moscow, and most of the Bangkok job tiers, acquired more weapons, vehicles, and armor than one could ever reasonably hope to warehouse, but several months ago I went cold turkey. I de-authorized the application from my Facebook account, and I stopped requesting and accepting energy packs, mystery bags, and random “limited time” items from friends and strangers.
I gave it up.
Totally.
Really.
It took me a while to figure out why I would want to log in to Facebook ever again.
