But I was still lost. And that’s when I first learned about the Vortex. They had chained themselves here on purpose, in order to preach about the Vortex. It was a world in the Pacific Ocean where 100 million tons of us had gathered. They said there was no maker. They said we were the maker. They said in the Vortex we were free. It was paradise. They told me to go there to join the others. - 11:36
Celebrated voice over artist Werner Herzog voiced a plastic bag in a short film called “Plastic Bag.” (via Slate)
Except what else would you call it? The Shape of My Heart: No. The Nudge of Thy Neighbor: This hasn’t arrived yet, it was only a dream. Your Face: You will see support for this one, as you would see support for yourself on an elementary school stage (but resist). The Book: No. The Night Hardly Anyone Came: A darkness beyond what we’re going for. Surfer Rosa by The Pixies: A New Years resolution for an evener keel. Saved By The Bell: Narrated by no one herself. On Your Sofa: Private lessons in reality television. Middle School: The Amazing Race. Young Tom Hanks: Paradoxes & oxymorons. Young Meg Ryan: All rhymes. America Online Instant Messenger: This is the way movies were meant to begin. The Gigantic Feet on My Shoulders: Somehow escaping the awe. Aquemini by Outkast: Divulged like a rumor. High School: Survivor. Saved By The Bell (The New Class): F-ck you so, so, so much. On Your Sofa: Conjugations of verbs cushioned into the ground. The Ocean as The Lake as The Pool as The Bath: At some point the islands cease to be newly discovered. Sex: An absence in which I’ve sprouted. The Summer of No Bed: Just motion, & tennis, & self-esteem. Kid A by Radiohead: No. Earth Science: Are you kidding me. College: The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Crowded Bar: A foreign-language credit I never received. Relationship Status: Sh-tty architecture of sugar. Blackout by Britney Spears: & that’s how, one night, I could dance. Old Tom Hanks: You’ve eaten your hair. Old Meg Ryan: Inevitable, & poorly postponed. X: No. Graduate School: The Bachelorette. A Chronology of Kisses: Warm & pointlessly diverse. The Summer of All Bed: What the body told. The Doctors: Each direction different & yet approximately the same. To What We Became: The mob as a virgin on a very plain level. To What We Wanted to Become: Each other. Religion: No. The Book: Though I like the way Heaven is painted. Fearless by Taylor Swift: There’s nothing to take back believe me. Social Network, Sofa Cushion: & let us have no regrets. My Regrets: Are mostly under-specific verbs. Social Network: I request you. On Your Sofa: I unfriend you, I confirm you, I confirm you again.
SWD
For a few months now I’ve been thinking about writing a post on/roundup of “absurd” blogs/tumblrs. Images, video, text, SummerofMegadeth, etc. You know, for our vinyl collection. I know there’s the “weird” directory, but I dunno, it’s not, like, the same? Maybe a #absurd tag going?
Lot going on here. I know we’re like 10 blog years late here, but let’s take a stab at it.
This is the trailer to Ghost Shark 2: Urban Jaws. Here’s what you need to know about it. Don’t remember the original? There wasn’t one. That’s right.
We could talk about “sharksploitation,” or the idea of a shark appearing out of a glass of ice cubes, but what’s clearly of note here is that they made the sequel first.
This isn’t the same situation as Star Wars, where Lucas knew what he was doing and had the prequel(s) more or less mapped out. No, I think the bros behind Ghost Shark 2 just wanted an excuse to “jump” to the even-more-over-the-top sequel that is allowed to piggy back on the plot/set-up/characters of the original and thus is allowed more room for special effects. POW, BANG, WAMP!!!
Audiences crave this flashbang approach. Only idiots walk in to films like Piranha 3D with expectations of anything more than sex and gore. As evident by the number of real sequels and reboots, all original plots are already taken. Or us “millennials” are too cynical to entertain new stories. Now stunts need to be exaggerated to what some would called “laughable” in order to elicit the same reaction that simple explosions used to.
Either way these action-porn flicks like Machete seem to be the new thing. Sure, its got a pro-immigration tilt, but there’s no doubt that boring scenes— despite being “necessary” to the plot— will be skipped or at least sped-up to make room for more Lindsay Lohan/that other girl/explosions. The directors know it’s not important. Like the original Ghost Shark.
Last night, against better judgment, I saw Charlie St. Cloud starring none other than the High School Musical ”heartthrob” Zac Efron. The theater had a girl-to-guy ratio of 20:1. It was not surprising. But two bros did show up together and sat a seat apart. Frat or gay? We may never know.
Anyway! I cried my eyes out during the movie. Charlie’s (Zac Efron’s) 11-year-old brother dies in the first 10 minutes of the movie which was, obviously, the beginning of my demise. So while I’m crying about this dead kid and his relationship with his brother, Zac Efron is about to save the day! A girl’s life is on the line, and as Zac is about to rescue her, he takes his shirt off. “Finally!” echoed throughout the theater. At that moment I realized that none of the girls younger than 18 had actually come to see the movie. Who cared that a little kid had died? Zac’s shirt was off. Thank God.
What have I learned from this experience? you might ask. Better question: Who cares? “Act”, “Sing”, “talk to your dead brother”, whatever. All you need is a good hair cut.
The iPhone 4 blah blah blah yesterday blah blah blah front-facing camera. Our favorite part of the media-blitz-that-already-happened-but-we-still-really-want-this-phone is the Sam Mendes-directed commercial.
Of course there are other instances of famous movie directors sinking to the medium. One of the most famous being Ridley Scott’s 1984 ad for Apple.
We also have Spike Jonze for GAP (pretty fuckin awesome, but predictably pulled. He also didtwo for Levis).
and, to end with the most meta, Wes Anderson’s ego trip in which he does things with the help of his Am Express card:
Artsy directors should do this more. They’re so mainstream and literally commercial that they’re not, somehow escaping the taboo of actors appearing in advertisements, prompting them to fly to remote countries (and serve as premises for other artsy films). Directors seem to navigate this stigma, we think, either by the nature of them having more creative control or because it takes a fan to know a commercial’s directors.
