I didn't watch or read anything new this week. I heard some songs that caught my attention, though.
I was pleasantly surprised to find that The Fixer, which I've been hearing a lot lately, is by Pearl Jam. I haven't heard anything from them in a while, and it really doesn't sound like anything of theirs that I've ever heard.
I've been a fan of Tegan and Sara for quite a while, and I like their new song Hell. The video's cool, too.
Weezer was one of my favorite bands of the nineties. I've despised their recent singles, which serve no purpose other than to get them back on the airwaves. Can't Stop Partying is no different, but it's growing on me for some reason.
Finally, Stylo, by the Gorillaz, is just freaking weird, but it's got a nice mix of genres and it's great to chill out to.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Cannibal Holocaust
I read only a few pages of Catch 22 this week. They dealt with the chaplain, and his required attendance at (and subsequent exclusion from) the officer's club. I really don't have much time to read these days, between homework, bowling, friends, not sleeping, and whatever else I tend to do with myself.
Last year, I found a book called That Callahan Spunk! in the juvenile section at the library, which charmed me for obvious reasons. I ordered a copy from eBay. I've yet to read any of it, but I'd like to get started soon.
My most notable cultural consumption this week came in the form of a film called Cannibal Holocaust. The brainchild of Italian filmmaker Ruggero Deodato, "Holocaust" tells the story of four young American filmmakers who enter the South American jungle to make a documentary about a tribe of cannibals. For no apparent reason, they decide to torment the natives upon arrival at their village, attempting to burn them alive before having sex among the charred corpses, while the survivors look on. Other scenes depict rape, genital mutilation, dismemberment, and all varieties of fun for the whole family.
I've never been bothered too much by fake things happening to actors in movies (in this case, I just found most of it pretty stupid). What bothers me is when a director believes that his film, no matter how virtuous (or, in this case, terrible) it may be, justifies the actual death of one or more animals. I was offended by Au Hasard Balthazar, in which Robert Bresson felt that his "masterpiece" of disjointed metaphors was worth the shooting of a donkey. Unfortunately, Deodato seemed infinitely preoccupied with killing as many animals as he could. A pig meets a quick death, being shot by one of the Americans. A monkey, a large turtle, a snake, and a tarantula are all viciously hacked apart with machetes. I don't believe any film could justify that. If it exists, it certainly wasn't this one.
Last year, I found a book called That Callahan Spunk! in the juvenile section at the library, which charmed me for obvious reasons. I ordered a copy from eBay. I've yet to read any of it, but I'd like to get started soon.
My most notable cultural consumption this week came in the form of a film called Cannibal Holocaust. The brainchild of Italian filmmaker Ruggero Deodato, "Holocaust" tells the story of four young American filmmakers who enter the South American jungle to make a documentary about a tribe of cannibals. For no apparent reason, they decide to torment the natives upon arrival at their village, attempting to burn them alive before having sex among the charred corpses, while the survivors look on. Other scenes depict rape, genital mutilation, dismemberment, and all varieties of fun for the whole family.
I've never been bothered too much by fake things happening to actors in movies (in this case, I just found most of it pretty stupid). What bothers me is when a director believes that his film, no matter how virtuous (or, in this case, terrible) it may be, justifies the actual death of one or more animals. I was offended by Au Hasard Balthazar, in which Robert Bresson felt that his "masterpiece" of disjointed metaphors was worth the shooting of a donkey. Unfortunately, Deodato seemed infinitely preoccupied with killing as many animals as he could. A pig meets a quick death, being shot by one of the Americans. A monkey, a large turtle, a snake, and a tarantula are all viciously hacked apart with machetes. I don't believe any film could justify that. If it exists, it certainly wasn't this one.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Prolonged Reading Prior and Subsequent to Visitation of Firms
I got up way too early today (7 a.m.), so I could make the bus for the Off-Broadway Tour with AdInk. We toured VML, which was pretty awesome (Gatorade came in for their first meeting as a client just as we were leaving). We had some pizza, and then went to Kuhn & Wittenborn, followed by MMG Worldwide (both awesome).
On the way down, I read roughly a chapter of Catch 22. I've been reading it for several months now, and I've still got about 150 pages to go. I find it troubling that I generally take four to six months to finish a book, even if it isn't particularly long. I went through a phase where I'd read three books at a time, switching back and forth depending on the mood I was in that night. One such trilogy consisted of Siddhartha, The Art of War, and an "unauthorized" biography about radio personality Dr. Laura (don't ask).
Anyway, I figure that if I'm going to take six months to read a book, it might as well be good. I've been trying to catch up on great fiction (classic and otherwise). I read Oil! by Upton Sinclair, which had its moments, but wasn't nearly as good as The Jungle. Fahrenheit 451 was fun. Lolita was probably the most impressive work of fiction I've seen. Soon, I hope to finish 1984 (which I haven't touched in years), and then hopefully tackle some Proust and Kafka.
On the way down, I read roughly a chapter of Catch 22. I've been reading it for several months now, and I've still got about 150 pages to go. I find it troubling that I generally take four to six months to finish a book, even if it isn't particularly long. I went through a phase where I'd read three books at a time, switching back and forth depending on the mood I was in that night. One such trilogy consisted of Siddhartha, The Art of War, and an "unauthorized" biography about radio personality Dr. Laura (don't ask).
Anyway, I figure that if I'm going to take six months to read a book, it might as well be good. I've been trying to catch up on great fiction (classic and otherwise). I read Oil! by Upton Sinclair, which had its moments, but wasn't nearly as good as The Jungle. Fahrenheit 451 was fun. Lolita was probably the most impressive work of fiction I've seen. Soon, I hope to finish 1984 (which I haven't touched in years), and then hopefully tackle some Proust and Kafka.
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