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Sunday, January 8th, 2006
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4:00a - Bottle Rocket (and other smoking objects)
It has been two months since I have contributed to my journal. Looking back it might appear as though nothing at all has happened in that time. This is, of course, untrue. Christmas and New Years are just two things I have failed to report on.
However, I did not come here today to account for all the things I have missed. Except to say that this Christmas was an absolutely wonderful time. I spent time with many family members, and also had time to have a Christmas dinner with Beth and her family. Through rigorous saving and conservative spending, I was able to give nice gifts to my family (and Beth, who I feel is part of the family).
Christmas is not about gifts. Well, not entirely. Allow me to put this another way. Christmas is about celebrating the coming of the savior of Christianity. However, the wise men brought gifts for him and this is a loose explanation as to why gifts are exchanged. Aside from that, Santa Claus complements the majesty that is this time of year. Remember, for every present received there has been a present given. Aside from presents, love is the gift that matters. And presents, might I add, are one way to express that love.
Unless of course you just buy things for people out of necessity; then I guess my rationale doesn't apply. Which leads me to another good point: for every good rule, there is an asshole who is the exception.
Back to the present.
Today (actually yesterday as of midnight) is my mother's birthday. I want her to know the extraordinary degree to which I love her. A love that her and my father taught me, and that I reciprocate. Come to think of it, my father's birthday was two weeks before Christmas. Happy birthday to the parents.
Beth has been in California since New Years Eve. This means that I have not seen her since last year. Also, it means that she is three hours behind me. And you thought time travel wasn't possible. Her parents are celebrating their anniversary with a vacation to the left coast. Each has a brother out there, and in fact both used to live there. They are having a great time; a well deserved one at that.
Come to think of it, my parents anniversary was Dec. 3rd. Happy Anniversary to them. Damn, did I miss anything else? Shit this is getting crazy.
Ok, ok. What I came to talk about today is the movie "Bottle Rocket" which is based on a 1992 short by the Wilson brothers. Owen and Luke. The short caught the attention of Wes Andersen and was made into a full length movie in 1996. Let me say first that it would be very easy to not appreciate how great of a movie this is.
By practical sense, nowadays what makes a great movie is how much money is dumped into the project. The more money, the more famous the actors. The more money, the more established screenwriters and directors. And so on. But most movies have to fit through a funnel of "things that have worked." That's not to say that Hollywood isn't pushing the envelope; they are. But they're not doing anything creative so much as they're trying to shock us. Shock value. It's an incredibly appealing form of entertainment. How many swear words, how much nudity can you fit into a movie?
Certainly these things are entertaining. And they are pushing the proverbial envelope. But aren't they played out and used too much? How many American Pie movies can we watch before the jokes are too old?
Don't get me wrong, there are still great films being made as we speak. I just saw Wedding Crashers and I thought that was one of the best movies I'd ever seen. Anchorman is another movie that instantly comes to mind for being great. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that we're living in a pretty lucky time for comedy movies. Will Ferrell, Vince Vaughn, Ben Stiller, the Wilson brothers, etc. etc.
But Bottle Rocket is a great movie for different reasons. I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong. "Oh, here comes the-little-engine-that-could bullshit." No, it's not about that at all. I've seen many independent movies that suck.
Bottle Rocket is an awesome movie because we have two future greats, Owen and Luke Wilson, appearing in their movie debuts. Both had a hand in writing the movie; both had immense artistic direction in the movie. Neither one could be recognized in public, even by the extreme movie buffs.
What is the movie about? That's not an easy question to answer. The obvious response is that it's about a couple criminals and the wackiness that ensues.
This explanation does zero justice to the film itself.
This is a movie where the main thing that matters are the characters. On one hand, we have Dignan (Owen Wilson). Dignan is a lazy bum who has only ever had one job; that he was fired from. His main focus in life is to be a criminal mastermind because of the Hollywood-based notoriety. On the other hand, we have Anthony (Luke Wilson). Our film begins with Anthony being discharged from a mental institution, though Dignan believes he's actually helping Anthony escape.
You watch so many movies and you want to be the main character. Don't you want to be Clint Eastwood when he's kicking all that ass. Or Gregory Peck in "To Kill a Mockingbird." What if you were Dignan? You don't work; you sit around and plan crimes. In a way, it's a lot more realistic than Clint Eastwood.
Anyway, Dignan is the coach; the Capone in his own right. He plans the dirty stuff. It should be noted that there is not a single point in the movie that Dignan strikes you as a hardened criminal. That's part of the beauty that makes this movie work. It's all about irony. What does he do with all the loot? He uses the money to buy bottle rockets and fire crackers.
A third team member is recruited, simply because he is the only one that has a car. Bob (Robert Musgrave) is the rough and tough getaway man, routinely abused by his jock brother.
Luke Wilson's character, Anthony, winds up falling for a latino hotel maid. He is presented with a very realistin conflict; the love of a woman, or the loyalty to a friend. Watch all the mayhem unfold as these three losers (yes, losers) hone their skills before attempting to pull off the grandaddy of all heists.
I finished up reading the latest from Al Franken, "The Truth (with jokes)." This is the long-awaited sequel to his masterpiece and bestseller "Lies (and the Lying Liars who Tell Them)." My sheer disgust with the Republican Party was incensed, but let's not get into that. Except to say that they rely on your blind faith; really.
One thing that I haven't done much of lately is listen to music. I don't really know why; just not in the mood, I guess.
Ever notice how I like to use semi-colons? Why am I talking to myself?
It's going on five o'clock in the morning and I still can't go to sleep. I don't know why this happens. One day I slept in and since then my entire biological clock has been out of whack. It's nice to be up early in the morning, but the problem is lately I haven't even gone to bed until then.
Oh, one thing I forgot to mention before. I had a very nice lunch with my Aunt Kathy a few days ago, who I believe is coming over for breakfast tomorrow morning (perhaps an incentive to actually wake the fuck up). We spent two hours talking over at the Cracker Barrel in Austintown, roughly halfway between Girard and her home in Boardman. I like to refer to these such places and rendezvous points. Rarely do I ever use that term in real-life, but in the journal... it just makes for better reading.
Well, I guess I might try to get some sleep here. I'll talk to you later. Peace.
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