Saturday, January 31, 2009

The other night when I went to the Angelika to see Blood Feast, there were two guys sitting behind me who talked about film quite a bit. They seemed to really know their cinema, even though they had never seen/heard of this particular film, but something they said really bugged me. Because it is an expensive process for the one man who is Dallas Cinemania Film Society he had to raise the prices from $8 to $10. These two jerk-offs were saying the turn out was poor, probably mainly due to the cost. "Why would someone pay ten bucks to come see a movie when they could probably buy the DVD for the same price?" Totally missing the point.

The whole point of Cinemania is to show 35mm prints, the way films were meant to be seen - or at least they used to be. I can sit and home and watch certain repertory films, but I go and pay for a screening to see the print and have fun with a crowd of fans. Some of the best film experiences I have are because of this. Ultimate Chainsaw Experience at the house from the film, Sleepaway Camp with the director/cast and even Freddy vs Jason on opening night. For that one I went to a normal multiplex and was planning on the midnight show. A little over two hours before it was already sold out! They did add a second, unadvertised, 1am screening so that is where I went. This, too, sold out but the raucous crowd was a welcome addition here. The theater divided into a "Jason side" and a "Freddy side" (I sat in the middle, a slasher Switzerland if you will) and taunted the opposite sides of the auditorium. With each kill, or boob, the crowd cheered and it was just a damn good time.

There was a time where going to see a movie was a big deal. Everything was a big production, an all afternoon or evening ordeal, even a black tie event in some situations. Annie anyone? This was a long time ago, but it seems the movie going audience has become lazy and uncaring about the films they go to see. This explains why Paul Blart: Mall Cop has been the number one film in the country for the past two weeks. Sigh. I do understand at home you can pause and go to the bathroom whenever you like, eat cheaper food and you don't have to deal with all of the annoying patrons and their kids. These factors do turn people off to theaters, which is a shame because, to me, there is nothing like sitting in a darkened theater watching a movie on that huge screen.

Friday, January 30, 2009

What is up with modern country music? What ever happened to the Hank Williams, Buck Owens, Bob Wills or Pee Wee King's of the world (aside from death obviously)? It seems they can no longer decide which genre they want to be. Is it rock, or country? Half the popular acts out there are doing some sort lame rock with an added "twang." If the band sounds like Creed and your vocals come through with the slightest Southern accent that must constitute new country. All you need is to have lyrics about life outside of the big city, a cowgirl/cowboy or your truck and you are all set for a chart topper!

I'm not saying that the old-timers were wordsmiths, but the lyrics of some of these tunes... bah! Some tracks just annoy by the title, like "Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)," but others need to be played to irritate. Jenny and I were grabbing a burger earlier this evening at Jake's, where they continually play 99.5 The Wolf (a local country station for those not in the know), and we were struck to just shaking our heads and laughing. Read the poetry of Brad Paisley's "I'm Still A Guy."

When you see a deer you see Bambi
And I see antlers up on the wall
When you see a lake you think picnic
And I see a large mouth up under that log
You're probably thinking that you're going to change me
In some ways well maybe you might
Scrub me down, dress me up but no matter what
I'm still a guy

When you see a priceless French painting
I see a drunk, naked girl
You think that riding a wild bull sounds crazy
And I'd like to give it a whirl
Well love makes a man do some things he ain't proud of
And in a weak moment I might walk your sissy dog, hold your purse at the mall
But remember, I'm still a guy

I'll pour out my heart
Hold your hand in the car
Write a love song that makes you cry
Then turn right around knock some jerk to the ground
'Cause he copped a feel as you walked by

I can hear you now talking to your friends
Saying, "Yeah girls he's come a long way"
From dragging his knuckles and carrying a club

And building a fire in a cave
But when you say a backrub means only a backrub
Then you swat my hand when I try
Well, what can I say at the end of the day
Honey, I'm still a guy

I'll pour out my heart
Hold your hand in the car
Write a love song that makes you cry
Then turn right around knock some jerk to the ground
'Cause he copped a feel as you walked by

These days there's dudes getting facials
Manicured, waxed and botoxed
With deep spray-on tans and creamy lotiony hands
You can't grip a tacklebox

With all of these men lining up to get neutered
It's hip now to be feminized
I don't highlight my hair
I've still got a pair
Yeah honey, I'm still a guy

Oh my eyebrows ain't plucked
There's a gun in my truck
Oh thank God, I'm still a guy