Tag: KcM

Blade Gunner. | Resting the Thumbs.

“‘I first pursued “Forever War” 25 years ago, and the book has only grown more timely and relevant since,’ Scott told the trade. ‘It’s a science-fiction epic, a bit of ‘The Odyssey’ by way of ‘Blade Runner,’ built upon a brilliant, disorienting premise.’” Joe Haldeman’s science fiction classic The Forever War, the tale of a military grunt who — thanks to the vagaries of relativity — keeps returning to the homefront decades-to-centuries after he left for his last cosmic tour-of-duty, finds an established genre film director in Ridley Scott, who will presumably take it up after Nottingham, his Robin Hood re-think with Russell Crowe.

Which reminds me: Scott and Crowe’s recent Body of Lies is one of the many movies out of late — along with Choke, Miracle at St. Anna, Blindness, Eagle Eye, Appaloosa, Flash of Genius, and Traitor — that I’d normally go see and review…if any of ’em could actually manage to break a lowly 65 on Metacritic. As it is, I’ve been dissuaded thus far this fall by the bad word-of-mouth attending all of these films, coupled with the psychic distance of actually having to drive to get to the nearest multiplex these days. (Besides Roti Rolls, the easy-access movie culture is arguably what I miss most about NYC.) At any rate, right now it’s looking like the 2008 end-of-year movie list might well be a short one.

Where Smart is Fun!

Hey y’all. Sorry about the lack of updates this past week. Along with the MySql database acting more squirrelly (MySqlly?) than usual around here, I just recently returned from a weekend down in my old home state of South Carolina, where I and several other alumni of various ages were helping to mark the 20th anniversary of my (charter residential) high school, the South Carolina Governor’s School of Science and Math.

While still located in the tiny and remote hamlet of Hartsville — a friendly place, but the very definition of a one-horse town — SCGSSM seems to have done quite well for itself over the fifteen years since my class graduated, back when it was still a relatively unknown quantity in the state. Namely, the school has procured an impressive and gimongous new facility just off the Coker College campus where we once kicked around. (I’d begrudge the younger classes their state-of-the-art complex more, if I weren’t slightly relieved that the Class of ’93 never had to deal with all the security cameras now on premises — it’d have really cut down on all the shenanigans.) And GSSM — which is soon to expand from 150 to 300 students — has managed to retain many of the great PhDs on faculty there, including most of my favorite teachers back in the day. (It was particularly great to see Dr. Hendrick, the history professor who played no small part in encouraging me down my current path, science and math be damned, and who remains a beacon of progressivism in the otherwise right-leaning Pee Dee environs.)

At any rate, if I have any quibble with the direction SCGSSM has taken since my own time in “the Fishbowl,” it’s probably the goofy school marketing slogan they’ve chosen for themselves of late, which apparently now festoons billboards all over the Palmetto State: “Where Smart is Fun.” To my mind, not only does this sound needlessly defensive, like GSSM is some sort of “Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Mutants“-type asylum, designed to protect Carolina’s meek and brainy from the reactionary hordes that despise them, but — at least in my own humble experience — Smart is Fun pretty much everywhere…or, at least, it’s more fun than the alternative.

Celeb-Spotting at Invesco.

Hey y’all. After a crack-of-the-morning flight out of Denver (which included a spry Mickey Dolenz and a tired-looking Hayden Panettiere), I’m back in VA now, have rested up, and have put up the rest of my Invesco pics over at Flickr. In case anyone’s interested, here are a few more thoughts about the milieu surrounding Thursday event:

Imagine the DC Nationals playing Game 7 of the World Series at home, and you may get somewhere close to the strangeness that was the stadium environment at Invesco Field. It was definitely a NFL or NBA stadium atmosphere, with all the usual concessions open. But, amid the pretzel vendors, lines for hot dogs, and Obama t-shirt stands, the place was also obviously teeming with DC-types — pols, journalists, celebrities, and of course their many, many handlers. So, if you walked around the concourse a few times (as I did during the Sheryl Crow set, for example), you were bound to see tons of notable people waiting anxiously in the condiment queue, and/or one of the gaggle of C-level talking heads “trying not to be seen,” hoping to be seen. It was all quite bizarre.

In lieu of a list of all the random people I saw wandering around, I’ll just give a few general impressions:

  • For whatever reason, I saw members of the MSNBC crew (Howard Fineman, Chris Matthews, Floyd Abrams) floating around a lot more often than the CNN gang, who seemed to stay ensconced in their assigned news-ghetto. (Matthews in particular was ubiquitous. He and Ron Brownstein seemed to live at The Tattered Cover.)
  • Gov. Ted Strickland had the exact same awkward look on his face in front of the Denver Broncos store that he did while Clinton harangued Obama a few months ago. Must be his tic.
  • Richard Dreyfuss was holding court over at the Air America nook, and — since someone had passed out promo cards for Oliver Stone’s W while we waited in line the requisite hour to get in — I asked “Vice-President Cheney” to sign it. I guess this shouldn’t be surprising, but he hadn’t seen the teaser poster image at all. (I sometimes forget that for the people involved, movie making is just a job — They don’t feel inclined to follow all the ins and outs of the pre-release like we do.)
  • Y’know, I guess I owe Washington a bit of an apology. I was complaining the other day about the careerist myopia and general rudeness of DC politicos, but in the end it was a NYC-based historian who most exemplified District-style asshattery to my face. I went up to say hi to a (non-Columbia) academic who writes for several progressive publications, and with whom I’ve shared many a dinner over the past few years, as part of a 20th Century Politics & Society Workshop that I served as rapporteur for. (“Rapporteur” is basically the three-dollar way in graduate school to say “The One who Brings the Food.”) When I said hello and held out my hand, he looked me up and down, gave me the cut direct, and — in true DC form — just turned away to find somebody more important. I guess such behavior comes with the territory sometimes…still, I thought it was pretty goddamned rude.
  • Word on the street was a lot of A-lister celebrities were out and about: Charlize Theron, Jessica Alba, Jennifer Garner, Oprah Winfrey, Brad and Angelina, and the like. I didn’t see anybody of that sort, but then again I didn’t go anywhere near the skyboxes.
  • I did run into Jim Clyburn, my old representative, and got in a shout-out for Flotown. (Florence, SC — his beat, and the place where I grew up.) He seemed nice, as always.
  • I also ran into Bill Press, the democratic pundit with whom I’ve worked on four books over the years. We got to catch up for a bit, as it turned out our seats were really close to each other.
  • Nothing against Sheryl Crow, but her set was the time I spent walking around to soak up the ambience. That being said, seeing Stevie Wonder perform “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” was great fun. And, if you’d had told me that one day I would willingly join a crowd of 80,000 to sing along with Michael McDonald, I’d never have believed you. Never say never, I guess. (I was very glad to hear we Dems roll with “America the Beautiful” rather than “God Bless America,” which we can expect in heavy rotation at the RNC next week, I’m sure.)
  • And, finally, the moment when I was probably the most starstruck at Invesco was when I was edging back to my seat and none other than Wendell Pierce, a.k.a. The Bunk, flew past me. Now, there’s a pic I’d like to have gotten (and I’d love to have picked his brain about David Simon’s forthcoming Treme, but ah well.) Denver ain’t Aruba either, I guess…but Thursday night, it sometimes felt pretty darned close.

    • Wow.


    Hey y’all…Well, I don’t know how it played on (a non-Jumbotron) television, but here, tonight, at Invesco Field, the experience of Sen. Obama’s nomination speech was unbelievable. Not only was Obama’s address both powerful in its can-do faith in America and devastatingly effective in its evisceration of the GOP, but I can’t remember any other event I’ve been to that felt so caught up in the sweep of history, from John Lewis invoking Dr. King and the March of 45 years ago during the afternoon to the final fireworks lighting up the Denver sky. It was a tremendously moving night — one of those tell-your-grandkid nights — and, while I’ve been enjoying myself here in Denver regardless, this definitely made the whole trip worthwhile.

    I have lots more pictures and minor anecdotes to share about the day, but unfortunately I won’t be able to do the speeches — and the night — justice until after I get back. (As it is, my very early return flight is only hours away.) So more tomorrow evening, once I’ve returned to EDT. For now, I’ll just say this: There’s no flippin’ way we’re losing this election.



    Good News and Bad News.

    The good news: An old college/DC friend of mine, currently busy on the other end of the 16th St. strip, has hooked me up with a pair of swanky passes to tonight’s speech at Invesco Field. So, assuming the crowds aren’t a total nightmare, I’ll be able to take in my second Obama speech of the fortnight this evening.

    The bad news: While traversing the 16th St. drag to pick up said tickets, my bag opened up of its own accord, and I seem to have lost my laptop cords…meaning I’m now blogging on borrowed (battery) time, and it’ll be next to impossible to update around here once the juice runs out. (There is an Office Depot a few blocks away, where I’ll try to score an emergency replacement.) Update: Belay all that: Apparently, I’d just left my cord here — I found it under the table. (Must be living right today.)

    Cavalier & K.

    Another happy fanboy moment this morning (See, I don’t only go gaga for character actors and Youtube starlets): While setting up shop for the final day here, I happened to notice author Michael Chabon (Wonder Boys, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Klay, The Yiddish Policemen’s Union) taking a quick peek into the confines of our bloggerverse. (He’s set to sign books at The Tattered Cover, the very quality bookstore next door, in a bit.)

    At any rate, Chabon seemed like a very friendly fellow, and he entertained my sudden barrage of fanboy film adaptation questions without complaint. (We didn’t get to talk comics, alas, but then again I didn’t want to eat up all of his exploring time.) Regarding Kavalier & Klay, Chabon said that there’s no real truth to the Jude Law-Ben Stiller rumors that were circulating awhile back, and that the Stephen Daldry-directed version Chabon himself spoke of a few years ago, like the Sydney Pollack attempt before that, is now sadly moldering away in Development Hell. As for Yiddish, Chabon — who seemed really delighted that the Coens have grabbed the project — said they were writing it now (so, in other words, A Serious Man will definitely come first.) No word on casting yet, although I’m willing to bet dollars-to-donuts Frances McDormand is on the short list for Bina.

    In any case, Chabon seemed like great people, and it was a real kick to chat him up for a few minutes. (And, unlike a lot of the recognizable folks who’ve come through lately, there was no entourage of “boundary mavens” to negotiate with.)

    Those Crazy Bloggers.



    While I’m getting all the “look at me — I’m embedded!” links out of the way, here’s a Conde Nast Portfolio report on the Big Tent, filmed Monday, that features me briefly. Judging from the questions I keep getting asked, numerous mainstream media groups seem to be doing variations on this same sorta puff-piece story (“Who are these crazy “bloggers,” and (gasp) will they take over everything?), although — at least so far — I’ve spent most of my own interview-time talking to foreign press.

    Also, whatever Drudge is currently saying about “Google massaging journalists,” they’re in fact massaging bloggers. Yes, there’s still a difference (and, no, I still haven’t partaken — big line.)

    The Chameleon, Undercover.

    For those looking for movie news amid the politics: While enjoying an outdoor microbrew last evening, I happened to notice Jeffrey Wright walking down the street, and — while political pundit types like Ron Brownstein were getting swamped by onlookers — it seemed exactly nobody else noticed him. (I would’ve snapped a pic, but the camera was out of juice.) I mean, c’mon people, that’s Colin Powell! Journalists and pols come and go, but I still get excited whenever I happen to see an honest-to-goodness movie star.

    The D.C. Rules.

    Good morning all — I’m back in the Big Tent right now (fortunately, bloggers tend to be late risers, I guess, as electricity is easier to come by right now), sifting through some of the latest swag (breath mints advertising “clean” coal power, chocolate smoothies via HuffPo, C-Span coffee mugs, etc.) and generallly figuring out where to flit around today. There’s a lot going on upstairs, and they treat us very well in here, but, even despite all the free caffeine, etc., it feels a bit like being a caged exotic bird in this tent. Every so often politicos or celebrity journalists swing through, pat us on the head, and say “oooh, the bloggers!”, then disappear to wherever the real action is. In a way, we’re all just embedded in here, bought off by swag bags, free massages (I have yet to partake), and Chipotle burritos. But, hey, I like Chipotle.

    In any case, it’s good to refortify in here before venturing forth for another day of the “DC RoE.” For, however hospitable Denver has been thus far (and so far LoDo seems like a great place — I wasn’t expecting such a walking-friendly downtown), it’s clear the most aggravating tendencies of District life have thoroughly infected this entire municipal area for the week. Like I said yesterday, having spent the past several years ensconced in academia (which has its own occasionally exasperating mores to navigate), I’d forgotten how fundamentally irritating the DC ratrace can be. Consider this full-immersion therapy.

    Rule #1 of the DC life: Access — and thus the appearance, if not the fact, of exclusivity — is everything. For example: Yesterday evening, a friend of mine from CQ and I looked to catch a drink somewhere nearby. We eventually found one, thank goodness, but not before having to negotiate with doormen, list-bearing aides, and sundry other “boundary mavens” in front of many, many bars, restaurants, and hotel lobbies. Everything was cordoned off, invites and VIPS only, unworthies please move along. Now, I understand the lobbyists gotta do their thing — If only this sort of thing was restricted to private parties. Alas, DC life, I have since been reminded, is basically one big rope-line. Every doorway involves a plethora of multi-colored passes, even those that lead nowhere particularly important. Every event here, even ungodly boring ones they can barely fill, have byzantine rules for crossing the threshold, and strange, unspoken hierarchies which determine who gets in and in what order. Get three people together in the District and one of ’em will start working on setting up the cordon. Frankly, it all gets a bit exhausting. (I’d like to say the special dKos couch I was joking about yesterday is a parody of this impulse, but it’s really just another sad manifestation of it.)

    Which brings me to Rule #2 of Washington: You’re only as interesting as your status in The Hive. The District being a company town, the main thrust of virtually every social encounter in DC is “Hi-Hello-Who-do-you-work-for?” (I’ve heard LA operates much the same way, which makes sense, given that politics is basically showbiz for short and/or ugly people.) I can’t tell you the number of times during my Washington days when people I’d recently met would “switch on” once they ascertained I had a moderately important-sounding job. (It wasn’t really, of course, but Carville occupied his own unique tangent in Clinton-era Washington, so the rabid political climbers always assumed I had more pull than I ever in fact did.)

    As such, people tend to accord you respect only in direct relation to your perceived clout, and if you don’t have any, you’re just not worth talking to. In DC, the most remorseless practitioners of the political arts — and thus often the most successful — will be endlessly scanning the room around you during your conversation, looking to see if there’s someone more important they should be talking to at that moment. It’s a peculiarly virulent form of douchebaggery that you really can’t escape if you venture into the politics business, and it, sad to say, has been very much in evidence here in Denver.

    Like I said, I found this endless reducing of people to their places of employ tremendously irritating even when I occupied a relatively privileged position in “The Game.” Now that I’ve been out of the scene for awhile — having cashed in my chits, so to speak, to pursue the PhD during the Dubya years — and my hive status is lower than even drone, it’s that much worse. Now, here in the blogger tent, everyone — give or take a few e-celebrities, of course — seems very friendly, down-to-earth folk, and journalists, I’ve found, rarely traffick as baldly in this sort of behavior as the politicos (which is a lot of the reason I tended to hang with reporters and non-profit types while in DC.) But, get around the actual honest-to-goodness political people, who are obviously everywhere right now, and hoo boy. After an hour or two of being constantly Sized Up and Found Wanting by weaselly-looking guys in suits, it’s enough to send you screaming into the streets.

    Ok, had to get that off my chest. I am having a great time here, honest! Still, it was a bit of a shock on my first day to be resubmerged so quickly and so thoroughly into the DC-politico culture. Oh yeah, it’s like that.

    Things to Do in Denver…

    Hey all…back at my friend’s place now, where the sweet, sweet electrical power flows freely. As some may have already noticed, I managed to get some pics for the day up here. Enjoy…I’ll have more to say in the next day or two, once I can gather my thoughts about events thus far. It’s been a lot to take in, and, frankly, I’ve been out of the DC environment for awhile. (Denver or no, DC rules of engagement are clearly the order of the day here…I’d sorta forgotten how this game is played.)