I settled for the highlights of KC’s win over Denver last night rather than watch the NFL Network’s regular season game debut, thusly, I have nothing to add regarding the wit and wisdom of Bryant Gumbel and Cris Collingsworth. Of the circumstances surrounding a Thanksgiving tilt that didn’t take place in Detroit or Dallas, The Feed’s Josh Alpers wrote,
Among those who couldn’t watch the game? Chiefs owner, AFL founder and longtime proponent of Thanksgiving football in the nation’s heartland Lamar Hunt. Forced into the hospital with an illness, Hunt had to listen to the game on the phone while his daughter held it up to a TV that actually carried the NFL Network. Thanks for devoting your life to pro football Lamar now go fuck yourself, love Roger Goodell.
With all due respect to Josh, surely a guy who has more money than God can arrange for a DirectTV hookup in the infirmary. If Tony Soprano is allowed to have a PPV boxing bash while recouperating from a gunshot wound, the Hunt family could’ve sorted something out.
As for me, I’m feeling fine, I’ve got a dish, and I blew off the game in favor of the following cinematic works ;
a) “Down In The Valley” (2005, David Jacobsen)
It’s a funny world we’re stuck in. If I stride to the counter of my local video hut with a DVD featuring Evan Rachel Wood riding Ed Norton’s cock, I’m just an independent film buff. If, however, I were to voice my appreciation for a movie featuring an actual teenage girl getting busy with an adult, I’d be looking forward to a stretch in the stony lonesome.
Anyhow, avoid ‘DITV’ like Jake Plummer’s pubic hair beard. Ed Norton did the schizo act far better in the way more formulatic (and watchable) “Primal Fear”, and if you wanna see David Morse doing the slow-burn-thing, there’s got to be a “St. Elsewhere” box somewhere that’s a better value. If the predictable storyline and phoning-it-in acting weren’t bad enough, Peter Sallet’s soundtrack is abominable, vearing from sub Iron & Wine wispiness to totally obtrusive tremelo bar hysteria. Granted, he’s setting a mood. But it’s the kind of mood that’ll have sane persons looking for the mute button.
2) “United 93” (2006, Peter Greengrass)
I’ll concur with Jay Hinman ; considering we already know how it’s gonna end, that we’ve read the 9/11 report and there’s nothing remotely revelatory left to be told (not in this film, anyway), “United 93” is an amazing achievment. Even by the standards of David Simon and Nick Gomez’ best works for the small screen, “United 93” is incredibly tense and carefully crafted, with an absence of artifice that makes most documentaries look staged by comparison. The combined non-actor / no-name cast are super solid, and if you’re a frequent flyer like yours truly, there’s no way watching this won’t make you want to blow chunks (the ease with which the hijackers pull off their clumsy coup is horrible to contemplate given that airport security is no more consistent or efficient now than it was 5 years ago).
I have one tiny gripe with Greengrass’ opus : I was assured by the man at the video shoppe that during the most desperate moments of “United 93”, Wesley Snipes would turn to the lead hijacker and say “Always bet on black.” And then he’d kick ass and save the day.
I’ve replayed the final 30 minutes twice. Where the fuck is Wesley?
Under normal circumstances, I’d ask for a refund. But the other video store in my ‘hood doesn’t stock films featuring Evan Rachel Wood riding Ed Norton’s cock, so I’m inclined to let it slide.
Greengrass’s “Bloody Sunday” is good enough that when the end credits roll you’ll feel kindly disposed toward U2 for the first time in your life. Second time, if you saw it after hearing the Bank of America song. OK, third time, if you count that time Bono saved the world.
since people always say bad things about U2, here are some nice things you can share :
1) I once saw the bass player and drummer at a Giant Sand gig.
2) Bono’s name dropping of Someone & The Somebodies on a live b-side gives the U2 Rock Band some kinda connection, however tenuous, to the Molls, and therefore, Peter Prescott. Something of which he must be very, very proud.
3) The Edge’s collaboration album with Jah Wobble isn’t half bad, as long as you just stare at the sleeve and don’t put it on.
4) Were it not for U2’s label and publisher going ape over Negativland, SST might be putting out a Tom Trocolli’s Dog box set for Christmas 2006.
During a recent concert in Australia, Bono hushed the crowd and started clapping his hands slowly, holding them over his head. While clapping, he exclaimed that “every time my hands clap, a child dies in Africa.” To which an immediate response from a face in the crowd replied, “then you should bloody well stop clapping!” Got a lot of laughs in the crowd that night.