Wut The Fuck YOU Lookin' AT?

Not the first time a star has regarded a director with such utter disdain.

Filmed in Notre-dame-des-Neiges Cemetery.

 (Please put on HD)

Muzik

Welcome To My World. Like my Joy Stick?

 I   hate to steal Dane's brilliant thunder, and this is definitely "off-topic," but . . . I was ruminating, as I am wont to do (also will to do) and hey, Lookout, World. Durknit Is Ruminating Agin.

And I ruminated about this:

I was over at my pal Dimitri's house yesterday (he's all of 30 years old!) and he regrettably had the radio tuned to some mindless station, which was presumably pumping out the "latest hits."

It had been the first time I was subjected to the assault on my ears of this kind since Giorgio Moroder and disco.

This stuff is INCREDIBLE! And I don't mean that in a good way.

What I find remarkable, other than the immensely boring 4/4 tempo, is the complete lack of chord structure. You thought Punk only had three chords? Try TWO. It's like they took a couple of chords, put them through a shredder and then fed them into a computer and then autotuned the fuck out of it.

"Mindless" gives it too much credit.

If this music had a color, it would be GREY. No, strike that: it would be the color of static on your TV set . . . when there was static, that is. Just random audio pixels assembled by a computer and then extruded, like bland pasta, into a shape: "Lady Gaga Love To Love Me Mixtape 25" . . . "Kanye West Shoot The Cop Mashup/Vangelis Chariots v. 87" . . .

Remember that music that George Lucas imagined would be playing sometime in the far future in the Star Wars bar scene -- you know, the alien horn section -- well, Georgie was WAAAAYYY too optimistic. As I recall, it was a blend between Artie Shaw and Dizzy Gillespie.

Today's hits are a blend between Coke Zero and A McDonut.

Is Music Really "The Universal Language"?

 I   s it possible for someone with no training in music to recognize great musical compositions? What is music anyhow, but a way to make us feel something in an otherwise fairly dull world? We listen to the radio, the internet, go to concerts, and many of us say: I just couldn't live without music.

That being said, can just an ear alone tell the difference between what is considered by "experts" to be great and what is considered by those same "schooled" experts to be garbage?

Having been raised by two professional musicians, I was dragged to concert after concert, watching my father both play and conduct, all the time wondering What the hell are these people so excited about?

When I was eight years old, I used to go with my mother to the university at which she taught piano, at 5 a.m. on weekends (she said she could play better early in the morning), to turn pages for her as she belted out her latest rendition of Beethoven or whoever it was that happened to be taking a beating from her swift but skillful hands that day.

I had no idea what it what I was listening to and could not understand what all the fuss was about at the time, but it obviously made her happy.

Thankfully, my parents both loved movies and all us sons were pretty much raised in front of a big screen. I remember first feeling something―call it excitement, rhythm, an adrenaline rush or a hankering to throw more popcorn in my mouth―in 1978, during the opening to Superman and John Williams' score (now called The Planet Krypton).

As a few years went by and we continued to go to the movies, VCRs became popular and watching videos over and over again became a tradition on our Sanyo Betamax.

Raiders of the Lost Ark was released along with a musical and special effects extravaganza, and even after seeing it in the theater, we watched it again and again, wondering how the effects were accomplished. The beginning of Raiders is truly amazing and once again John Williams got my heart beating for reasons I am still not entirely sure of.

In my teens, movies became more and more interesting, partcularly the ways in which they began, as the beginning credits rolled. The ability of movie directors to instantly capture a viewer's attention, usually by music, was fascinating.

In 1984, The Terminator was released and Brad Fiedel's brilliantly synthesized score riveted movie-goers as they became introduced to a then-young James Cameron's vision of the future.

Arnold Schwarzenegger became a household name and movie lovers flocked to video stores (remember them?) to see some of his older movies, including Conan the Barbarian. When I first saw Conan in 1985 and heard the opening to what many consider one of the best movie scores of all time, Basil Poledouris' drums made me want to see more movies.

In CEGEP, I took a few movie courses and in 1987, Brian De Palma released The Untouchables—the opening of which, with Ennio Morricione's pianos and synthesized drums, inspired me to make a short film using that very same two minutes of music. My film teacher said it was "the work of an avant-garde film-maker" because I understood the music so well—whatever the hell that means.

In film class, we watched movies like Touch of Evil and North by Northwest. The former was called "the quintessential film-noir" and the latter, "a masterfully made suspense film" but I was more moved by Henry Mancini's sinister horns and Bernard Hermann's power-score, respectively.

And then, one night, The Omen was on.

I was sixteen years old and had never heard a movie with such an eerie opening. I remember my father commenting laconically: "That's nothing . . . it's stolen from Lion in Winter" —which indeed it was.

Still, Jerry Goldsmith, who to this day remains as one of my heroes, was responsible for the inspirational Logan's Run, the terrifying Alien, and the unbelievably exciting Capricorn One openings. (Who can forget his groundbreaking Planet of the Apes score? - Durknit)

One Sunday afternoon, Spartacus was on. Alex North's drums perked my interest but it was his strings that made me fall in love with Jean Simmons.

In 1991, Martin Scorsese remade Cape Fear and Bernard Hermann became another hero of mine but above all others, for me, it was James Horner.

I was only twelve years old when I first heard the beginning of 48 Hrs. I was in an electronics store and they had it on full blast on a giant screen with what was considered to be, at that time, "state-of-the-art sound" and I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Such strength, such timing; it reminded me of all the times I'd watch my dad conduct his orchestra in a full-bodied sweat, wondering what all the fuss was about.

Thirty-two years later I saw Gladiator with a live orchestra. Hans Zimmer's masterful  opening brought tears to my eyes and once again reminded me of the power of music, family and love.

Oddly enough, like Jimi Hendrix, jazz drummer Tony Williams, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Eric Clapton and many other real musicians who have done bonafide masterpieces, I cannot read or write music. But, like Anne Murray once said "I trust my ear". 

Judging from what professionals have had to say about the composers of my "Top 15 List of Movie Music Scores"―all have been nominated and have won award after award―I believe that music really is "The Universal Language" and that anyone can be affected by its power.

15) Brad Fiedel : The Terminator

14) Basil Poledouris : Conan the Barbarian

13) Jerry Goldsmith : Logan's Run

12) Alex North : Spartacus

11) John Barry : The Lion in Winter

10) Henry Mancini : Touch of Evil

9) Bernard Hermann : North By Northwest

8) Jerry Goldsmith : Alien

7) Bernard Hermann : Cape Fear

6) Ennio Morricione : The Untouchables

5) Jerry Goldsmith : Capricorn One

4) John Williams : Raiders of the Lost Ark

3) John  Williams : Superman (the Planet Krypton)

2) Hans Zimmer : Gladiator

1) James Horner : 48 Hrs

June 23 update: James Horner decided to fly and died instead.

Jurassic Jaws Befriend "The Bachelor"

An idea that never made it into the final script

 T   wenty-three years later, we are bored of dinosaurs. It's no longer enough for us to see a "T-Rex" or a Brachiosaurus, now, a generation of kids who can't even tell time via an old-fashioned wrist-watch want to see bigger and badder creatures that have names that are as easy to pronounce and write like "awesome" and "LOL". The men and women running "Jurassic World" are, of course, happy to oblige 20,000 of their patrons and invent a new kind of dinosaur without respecting the laws of Mother Nature.

When eligible bachelor and Raptor wrangler "Owen" (Chris Pratt) gets thrown into the mix after being summoned by a temporarily professionally clothed heroine with lots of sex-appeal named "Claire" (Bryce Dallas Howard) to inspect a paddock meant to keep  her newest creation locked up, the pair soon find out that this new dinosaur is a little more than they bargained for after it escapes and starts killing everything in its path. Along for the ride are, of course, the obligatory children who seem to be there only to satisfy a Spielberg-esque genre but have little or no appeal to the viewer, and lots and lots of dinosaurs, who are the real stars of the film.

For adults and teenage boys alike, the Raptors are particularly interesting to watch as they have bonded to Owen and communicate with him with riveting eye movements, snarls, and incredibly smooth gestures. The "T-Rex" is still a marvel to watch and the Indominus Rex is really something to behold but, when Claire finally takes off her blazer and exposes some cleavage to Owen and says "I'm ready", it does not take a genius in 3D glasses to figure out just who this movie is really geared towards.

The sub-plot of turning the Raptors into weapons of war reminiscent of the "Alien" movies is particularly boring as are the scenes when bad-ass, gun-toting marine types are trying to take down the Indominus Rex that are ripped off from, of course, "Aliens". The human characters in the film have little or no chemistry except in a phoney t.v. style fashion in the vein of "The Bachelor" complete with slow-motion dinosaurs that by far outclass them.
All that is missing from the film's ending is a cliched kiss between Owen and Claire that is instead replaced by one of its fantastic-looking dinosaurs who are really the only redeeming features of this so far over-rated, un-original movie that is guaranteed to  satisfy viewers with three-second attention spans and make millions.

More iPad Mini Movies

We took a ride to Plattsburgh, NY this afternoon, and I got busy with my iPad Mini.

Unfortunately, I had to process the videos through iMovie 11, a truly MS-DOS-worthy program that Apple has completely fucked up -- you know, like moving the "Save" command to the "Share" menu.

I don't want to "Share," I want to "Save."

But they turned out pretty well! At the border leaving New Your state there were dozens of heavily armed cops with automatic weapons searching every vehicle thoroughly for two escaped murderers from a nearby prison (Dannemora). I wanted to film them, but Brigitte didn't think that would be a good idea.

Dane Joe and I are thinking of going in on halves to buy this incredible new drone. Then my videos would become truly epic (have the drone automatically follow the car from above? It's got an app for that!)

Don't forget to watch these in full-screen 1080p High Definition!

I Wuz a Director Once

 T  here was a time when I was a video editor. It was my profession. I worked with Final Cut Pro and iMovie and a number of other applications (they weren't called "apps" then. Just "programs.")

I wrote this piece entirely on my computer -- there wasn't even a regular keyboard available -- everything, including the drum tracks -- every single note, flute sound, hi-hat, effects sound was pencilled in laboriously on a long timeline -- it took me over a year for this one track -- and then I took footage I had shot in Hi-8 mm and digitized it into Final Cut Pro, with all the edits done laboriously in time with the sound track.

I really can't believe that I did this. It was not for anyone or any monetary gain. I remember just making it in silence as my marriage fell apart and my son was born; I remember working on it while he sat in my lap, less than one month old.

I think at the time I made it I thought I was making my version of Blade Runner. The footage certainly supports it. Sharp eyes will recognize the very turf shot in Black Rain, the Ridley Scott epic that was being made the very month I arrived in Osaka, literally a 10-minute subway ride away.

Anyway, here you see it: my magnum and only opus. Do me a favor and make it full screen and as high a resolution as it allows. And remember that this thing took a YEAR to make

Genuine Human Responses Abundant in The Deer Hunter

Bobby, there are other ways to deal with your bad hair

 W  as our world better in 1978 than it is today? Judging from the unbelievable advances in telecommunications in the last 37 years, it should be. As children, we learn early on how to get away with and say things we don't mean.

While riding in the back of a school bus, we are quick to make rude gestures to car drivers behind us because we know there won't be any repercussions. As we age, we learn how to get through mundane days at work via banal conversations about the weather, sports or current events with our colleagues, even though we are not making direct eye contact with each other. 

Our latest piece of equipment, besides the University degrees we think will propel us to a level of importance worthy of an expensive house, is the Apple Watch. As if we need another reason to get neck torticollis from looking down at a screen pretending to exist in a world that is becoming more and more fake by the minute. 

Today's movies are by and large fake representations of ourselves and it makes one wonder, when will we be able to be replaced by CGI and not have to step out of the house at all? Like a slap in the face and a wake up call from Hell all wrapped up into one three-hour extravaganza, our society is crying out loud for a viewing of The Deer Hunter.

Filmed by a hand that understood genuine human emotion, The Deer Hunter begins by showing the viewer what small-town America was once about. 

Each of its characters are hard-working, lower-class purists and don't seem to mind if they have to kick the trunk of a car do get it open or put tires on the roof of a shack-like house to keep its ramshackled roof from flying off. 

They work hard, play hard and love being together. Their conversations with one another, although unsophisticated, are heartfelt and genuine. They love their town and their town loves them. 

Shot by award-winning cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond, The Deer Hunter's hunting scenes are a sample of raw, breathtaking beauty that soon become a beacon of light in a film that at times looks even darker than Blade Runner.

After three of its main characters go off to Vietnam following a beautifully put-together wedding scene that exposes a small Pennsylvania town as a place that anyone with a heart would want to be a part of, The Deer Hunter then explores just how we humans deal with immeasurable stress in a way no Vietnam film has ever done. 

The torture scenes are so inhumane that they are difficult to watch, even by today's standards but, the film's director Michael Cimino never loses sight of the theme of this movie: the beauty of the human condition. 

We seek love and companionship and when pushed, we push back. 

In the face of danger, we break down and count on each other to bring us back up. We know how to sing and music brings us together even in the face of inexplicable horror. We never give up even though we might become scarred, stuttering shadows of our former selves.

The Deer Hunter is pure, it is raw and it is an emotional trainride to Hell and back, but, it is just what this world needs as we become more and more distant from each other, with small screens quickly surpassing what makes us so special.