WOODY’S BETTER SUITED FOR THE SCREEN

Woody Allen in print-NAY

Woody Allen is like the crazy great uncle I visit once a year during
summer and winter holidays, always ready with a new twist on the same
story he has been telling since I was a kid. I look forward to his
films, typically released during either season, with no new
expectations but with high anticipation nevertheless.

To make a far more sweeping affirmation, he is the godfather of
modern neuroticism, and his most loyal capos don’t care that he has
been ordering hits on the same topics - art, religion, sexuality,
psychology and NYC intellectuals - his entire career.

Last summer, Random House simultaneously published separate
collections of Uncle Woody/Don Allen’s prose pieces and long-form
essays - The Insanity Defense and Mere Anarchy, respectively - none
of which were adapted for the big screen.

Turns out his formulated ramblings, always acerbically comforting
like overspiked egg nog or sangria, are far more entertaining in
person than through the grapevine. Despite being, first and foremost,
a very prolific writer (at least one film a year for thirty years),
his words resonate better onscreen than on the page.

The selections in both books were all previously published, mostly in
The New Yorker, and are indeed unfailingly funny and gripping. The
Insanity Defense highlights Allen’s short works, including a
fictional deceased writer’s laundry list (”The Metterling Lists,”
1969) and an ardently ruthless lampoon of intellectualism (”The Whore
of Mensa,” 1974), probably the most inherently prevalent theme of
Allen’s oeuvre.

in Mere Anarchy, which comprises 18 of his longer essays, the reader
has a broader glance at Allen the person, especially in post-legend
pieces like “On a Bad Day You Can See Forever” (2000, The New Yorker)
about the trials renovating an Upper West Side townhouse. This piece
left me longing for a comprehensive memoir.

But in the end, these collections (which could have easily been
consolidated into one binding) are better suited for those unfamiliar
with Allen’s work. For the die-hards, its all the same musings and
rants, meticulously conceived as they may be, and you are left
imagining what his characters would look like in real life. We have
seen them all anyway, somewhere in Allen’s film canon.

At 72, Allen’s vision is darkening, and his recent film work,
thematically rife with crime, uncertainty and severity, suggests a
fundamental shift in his considerable world view. Skip the diary
retrospective and see Cassandra’s Dream instead.

Tyler.

Turns out, killing dinosaurs ain’t as fun as it used to be.

Turok- Nay

If you were as deeply involved with the N64 as i was when i was a child , you most likely rented a Turok game from Blockbuster at one point or another. Now, years later, Propaganda Games has let loose yet another sequel on the gaming world. Though i wish i could say much has changed, it really hasn’t. The graphics are great, but isn’t that the case with most Xbox 360 games? In this day and age, good graphics don’t set a game aside much.

A main boast of the trailers of this game is the ability to stealth kill your enemies ( be they Human or Dinosaur) with your trusty knife. Now this sounds like an exciting addition to the game, but after realizing that there are only 2 or 3 kill animations you may feel a little different. early on in the game you are instructed by a comrade to “Take out as many as you can with your knife before they notice you”, this line serves only for dramatic affect, because the AI would gladly let you run in and massacre 15 of its soldiers before they even
notice your existence. This game is not all bad, the actual control of your character is very tight, which is something i can appreciate in a shooter. Although what good is good control if it can only be used to
fight dim witted enemies and do the same knife kill sequence 40 or 50 times?

Online, Turok doesn’t bring much originality to the table, besides form the addition of free roaming dinosaurs. People seem to be relatively entertained by this game in general, which is surprising to me. If you ask me , your better off dusting off that old N64 and playing an older Turok game…or better yet, Goldeneye.

Happy Gaming,
Jeff

If you couldn’t tell, we aren’t fans of Dina Lohan.

Dina Lohan - NAY

NAY to Lindsay Lohan’s mother allowing her to take nude photos for New York magazine. Your daughter just got out of rehab and you think that it’s okay because the pictures look tasteful? Dina, you’re an idiot.
You’re an idiot because of the way you parade yourself around your daughter’s fame. You’re an idiot because you don’t think before you speak. And you’re an idiot because you are letting your daughter ruin her life. I’m sure those pictures are just going to make Lindsay more famous then she already is, but no desent mother would allow their child to pose nude as an iconic figure…especially since the path Lindsay is going is more than similar to what happened to Marilyn Monroe.

Laura

POSITIVE FEEDBACK FOR ‘NOISE’

The Rest is Noise - YAY

Whether out of rage or joy, Herbie Hancock’s album of the year Grammy win last week for River: The Joni Letterers incited many to pitch a fit. On one side: The academy snubbed the Foo Fighters, Gill, West and Winehouse for a traditional jazz artist - how out of touch are they? On the other: At last, a tribute to tradition, rather than to the hegemony of the Big Four conglomerates.

As a chronically disillusioned music fan who sees far more plastic carnations than red roses in the musical landscape, I am in the latter group. What a relief to see Grammy voters honor a chain of inspiration - Hancock to Mitchell to Guthrie to Coltrane to Mozart - in a seemingly endless era of assembly line “artists” inspired by the U.S. Mint.

The day after the Grammys, I picked up The Rest is Noise: Listening to the Twentieth Century (Farrar Straus Giroux, 200 by Alex Ross, the chief music critic at The New Yorker, and in the spirit of Hancock’s victory, it is
excellent therapy for music zealots feeling abandoned by Judas and Zadok.

Set to the scores of mostly classical composers of the 1900s, Ross recounts one hundred years of Western history and music’s profound effect therein. Structured as a narrative, which even at 540 pages is passionate and comprehensive without being exhaustive, Noise makes a strong case for contemporary composers of all ilks.

Like all other things these days, corporately produced music is not built to last. As we delve deeper into the epoch of “four minute music” and further from the Beethoven concertos deep-seated in the earliest form of musical science, the threads of influence weaken and actual musical arrangement loses meaning.

But there is a reason artists like Thom Yorke and Bjork stand out (beyond swan dresses and fauxhawks), and it may have to do with their nods to time-tested composers like Messiaen and Strauss.

Alas, Ross says although timelessness in musicianship (or what it is perceived as) is moving further and further away from the ever tunneling mainstream vision, there are plenty of exceptions, though it requires some effort to find them, and innovation cum tradition will always win out.

Exhibit A: Hancock nabbing Album of the Year. Although the artistic merits and appeal of the other contenders cannot be sneered at, Hancock fused new traditionalists like Norah Jones and Corinne Bailey Rae with tried and true legends Leonard Cohen and Tina Turner for his salute to a similarly celebrated melodious poet, through a blues-tinged jazz lens. The award is a statement congruent with Ross’: lots of green doesn’t make you an evergreen.

Though not for everyone, The Rest is Noise is chicken soup for the souls of Grade A music fans and history buffs, and will bolster your aptitude for an increasingly arduous task: separating the splendor from the noise.

Tyler.

Supermodels are Superheroes. Duh.

DKNY - NAY

Even the ultra-cool Natalie Portman and her vegan shoe line can’t make fashion look even an iota intelligent. Sure, not everyone who claims to be part of the fashion industry is completely and utterly vapid or (totally) obsessed with image, but when Fashion Week dictates lives and adhering to unrealistic and often unhealthy standards of “beauty” is the only way to feel “good” about yourself, maybe “superficial” is a euphemism for other more insulting words. Point is, fashonistas, models and designers the world over are now jumping on the Go Green! bandwagon in an (futile) attempt to shed their ditsy image. If it’s not one trend, it’s another.

Here’s the deal: DKNY is getting their supermodels to demand an auto-free New York. Sounds great, but the execution is all wrong in that it’s obvious hypocrisy. I guess this means that all those fancy designers and models will be riding their bikes (and touching slimy subway poles) to showrooms and high-end business appointments. I’d love to see Donna Karen roll up to Fashion Week on her bike or off the M60, fully decked out in sweat stains because her super stretch limousine is out of the question. I’d also like to think that if you don’t eat a proper meal (and yes, I am implying super models), your bike ride down Avenue of the Americas to the Mercedes-Benz sponsored fashion show (how ironic) wouldn’t be so easy. That’s just biology.

The real knee-slapper here is that this DKNY mouthpiece thinks, “If supermodels can’t solve the world’s problems, then I don’t know who can.” This means that by chaining spray-painted bikes to locations around New York and by having models yak about the importance of this “humanitarian cause” (much thanks to Gothamist which was quick to point out that the bike idea had been done before), the world will be a better place.

Plus, DKNY’s pretty little bobble also reminded us: “You could take a cab and skip two meals, or you can ride a bike and skip one meal.” Yeah, take this broad’s advice.

Obviously, green is the new black.

Merci,
Lisa Marie

Zombie heads roll over MKR suit.

MKR Group - NAY

The MKR Group owns the copyright to the highly popular “Dead” films by George Romero. In an attempt to score another paycheck through lawsuits, the group is suing Capcom for copyright infringements in Capcom’s popular game “Dead Rising” for the XBox 360. Apparently the game is too similar to “Dawn of the Dead.”

Seriously? Thank god Capcom came back and said that “humans battling zombies in a shopping mall” is a “wholly unprotectible idea” under current copyright standards. I mean why not just go after the complete Resident Evil series. Or any series with zombies in it? I’m sure you could find some sort of comparison to Romero’s zombie flicks. Besides, if anything this game boosted temporary sales of “Dawn of the Dead” even though the box CLEARLY says it has nothing to do with the franchise. And also, Romero, love you to death but come on, “Land of the Dead”? That blew. Anyway, Capcom will prob come out on top, and if they don’t, thats sad so go buy Dead Rising while you can!

Dancing eyeball warriors and a dancing tree. Does it get any better?

Patapon - YAY

Welcome to the wonderful tribal world of Patapon! The world in which you must press buttons to match the beat of the ambient music during game-play to control your tribe of tiny eyeball warriors in a quest to reach the end of the world! Sounds fantastic already. You must hunt for food and currency (Kaching), players are able to play trumpet for a dancing tree for items, battle with your rival tribe as well as giant monsters all while collecting equipment and special materials used to birth more colorfully powerful Patapon warriors with special stats! You also get to play trumpet for a dancing tree!

If that isn’t good enough it’s also only 20 dollars and comes out next week for the PSP! Did I mention the tree? The fucker dances for you and gives you shit for free. If you haven’t experienced it’s musical wonder yet, go to your nearest Game Stop and pre-order a copy to receive the demo for free (trumpets not necessary)! Every so often a group of developers and game designers will get together at a secret meeting in a cave surrounded by molten fiery lava and dragon piss (also harmful to the skin) in order to come up with a game that could possibly bend gamer’s views of what is the gaming industry is capable of. Such games sometimes get a bad rep because they may not look as good visually as other first party titles (the Katamari series), or they are left on shelves to collect dust because they weren’t given a chance due to lack of a forward advertising (PS2’s Okami, PSP’s Loco Roco), and that makes me sad because such titles are usually oozing with game play delight. These games are crafted by what I hope will be the future minds of the gaming world. I’m hoping these people’s tactics in design will spread like wildfire - a plague of genius and individualism will spread, killing millions in the process, but for a higher cause.

A game like Patapon brings a smile of glee on my face because it just happens to be another one of these whimsical games that tend to stand out from the rest of the bleakly grey titles we get fed continually by most developers. The thing is, this game is great fun, it provides the gamer with a uniquely special way of playing a normal rhythm based game that you don’t often see. It seems to cater to a variety of gamer tastes, if you don’t like musical rhythm games you still have a deep strategy element, if you don’t enjoy strategy you can enjoy the fun character birth and equipment/formation customization aspect, and if you don’t enjoy customizing then you are a Nazi.

If you own a PSP you should check it out, even if you don’t fully enjoy the demo - the game is only 20 dollars. Be happy you are spending your money on a game in which it’s developers are people that actually want to think outside the norm to provide a special gaming experience. The success of these sorts will hopefully guarantee more games with vision on the horizon and the game industry will continue to blossom into a creative medium where minds can be driven and financially stable enough to try new things, go out on a limb with a new game dynamic that they feel could change people’s ways of gaming and be absolutely unique without the fear of going under (The Neverhood, Oddworld Inhabitants - to name just two of my favorite misunderstood deceased wonders). That means you drop 5 for the pre-order, check it out, and if you don’t like it you can give it another try in the full game which I’m more then sure will provide a deeper experience in case the ridiculously long demo wasn’t enough, or you can just shove the demo in your ass and switch your 5 dollars to another game that you may enjoy, like whatever new Madden game is coming out.

B-Rod

Someone’s got a case of the jealousies.

Natalie Cole - NAY

Someone tell Natalie Cole that I’m giving her a NAY. After Amy
Whinehouse won 5 Grammys this past weekend, Cole said, “I think it
sends a wrong message, that even in the midst of her stupor with drugs
she can get nominated for all these awards.” Where have you been
hiding, Natalie? The crack house? Amy was nominated for her
talent….not her personal life. Because we are all so obsessed with
celebrium, we tend to forget the two are separate. If this is true
Natalie, if it’s so horrible that she won, than we should tell all the
other drugged out actors, actresses, and performers in Hollywood to
pack their bags. Plus, some of us still remember 2000 Natalie. Don’t
relapse after seeing that Amy can strike gold while high but you
can’t.

Laura

Simple Plan – Did We Really Think This Was Going to be a YAY?

Simple Plan - NAY

When I was a sophomore in high school, the very first “show” I went to was Simple Plan, the Starting Line, and Brand New. I’m pretty sure every budding scenester (who now lives in Williamsburg) or emo music fan (most obviously from Long Island and maybe New Jersey) was there, but I was young and I was naïve, truly unknowing when it came to what could be considered “good” music. (Except for Brand New. With my excessive amount of regional pride, Jesse Lacey is still my boy. And an object of lust.)

We’ve all grown up now, with both TSL and Brand New putting out better, more progressive records since 2002. Simple Plan, unfortunately, hasn’t moved their sound as forward as their counterparts. Their self-titled album, which “drops” February 12, has a few songs that could be confused with Yellowcard and Fall Out Boy, two bands who added an electronic sound to their guitars and, in the case of the latter, ended up on top. Actually, this album reminds me a lot of Yellowcard’s Lights and Sounds, an album with mediocre songs and no direction. The songs on Simple Plan are, well, they’re fine. There’s nothing dazzling, nothing spectacular, nothing that makes you say, “Wow, I can’t believe that they’ve grown so much.” I don’t think that lead singer Pierre Bouvier should be raging anthems for his “Generation” at this point in his life. Homeboy is nearing thirty. I know there are all sorts of jokes how Canada (the entire band is French-Canadian, if you didn’t know) is backwards and behind the rest of the world and all that, but this is too much for even me, and I love to dabble in the music of my high school self. If you’re hoping for something new, don’t buy this album. I guess you could download it or even try and snag it on The Leak on MTV.com. Don’t expect too much. If you want a blast from your past, give it a listen. But to be fair, it wasn’t good then, and it isn’t any good now.

-Lindsay

Award Shows Are Dead

50th Annual Grammy Awards - NAY

If you’re even slightly up to date on current events, you know that the 50th Annual Grammy Awards were given out Sunday night in Los Angeles. Award shows, as we all know, are a bunch of hooey. They represent the best in nepotism and favors in the music industry—not necessarily the actual best acts in music. But because the writer’s strike was just resolved and I can’t watch new episodes of Gossip Girl yet, I tuned in and lost out on three and a half hours of my life.

Because fifty years is such a major milestone, the Grammys were out in full force, with performances from the past half-decade from every genre. Alicia Keys performed once with a dead man (a very dapper looking hologram of Ole Blue Eyes himself, Frank Sinatra) and again with John Mayer, who for once, didn’t look like a dead man. Good for you, John. Carrie Underwood showed off her shorty-shorts in order to sing her hit “Before He Cheats”, which I prefer calling “Before you have to get a restraining order because you didn’t realize I was a crazy bitch”. Amy Winehouse, whom the TV honchos obviously saved for next-to-last, stuttered through her songs “Rehab” and “You Know I’m No Good” from a satellite feed from London. Homegirl couldn’t get a U.S. Visa in time for the show due to her drug problems, incarcerated husband, and a little thing I like to call “batshit crazy”. Unfortunately (or fortunately, I don’t know which) it was the best that I’ve seen her perform in quite some time. Beyonce also dueted with Tina Turner. Beyonce is by far the most overrated act today in music, perhaps second only to Kanye West (which I will get to later). She screeches and screams and moves to the left to the left, and frankly, I think she’s overexposed. Also, honey, fire your mother as your stylist. She shouldn’t put you in feathers on every red carpet. Tina Turner, on the other hand: bitch is fierce. If I look half as good as she does when I’m sixty-five, bless ME. She’s fabulous. There’s a reason her legs are insured. But Be had to go and ruin it by trying to upstage her idol while singing “Proud Mary”. Why don’t you give Kelly Rowland a chance, Be? Let the other Destiny’s Child girls have a crack at it, and you can go on hiatus with Jay. I hear he’s retiring again. Or coming out of retirement. Whatever.

My favorite part of the night was the smack down of Kanye West by elder and more talented musicians. To be fair, Kanye puts out some innovative stuff—he melds genres, he does duets with all these different people, he wears cool clothes. Fine. That’s all well and good, but the guy is probably the biggest tool on the planet. That’s a lot of jerks to compare, and in the game of douchebaggery, Kanye West is the winner. His performance was good (mostly I think because I like Daft Punk so much), and the part about his recently deceased mother was moving. (See, I do have a heart, sort of). But it is inappropriate to be such a bully. During his Best Rap Album of the Year acceptance speech, he told Common he needed to plan his album releases better because “this is [his] award”. And then he yelled at the orchestra who interrupted him before he was trying to talk about his dead mother. I understand that it’s a hard and terrible thing losing a parent like that. I get it. But he’s rude, and his talent will never make up for his attitude. But he got knocked down a peg when Vince Gill got the award for Best Country Album from Ringo Starr, and he said, “I just got an award given to me by a Beatle. Has that ever happened to you, Kanye?” Owned.

Like I said before, the awards were horse crap, and they always are. But at least the 50th anniversary proceedings gave us something to laugh at instead of watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. If the performances didn’t keep you occupied, go to E! Online and try to figure out how much hairspray went into Alicia Keys’ first performance hairdo. Sanjaya’s people called, Alicia, and they’re demanding a cease and desist. The pony/faux-hawk is copyrighted, baby.

Lindsay