I truly believe that the emphasis on study in our community today keeps us as actors stuck in our heads. Acting is not an intellectual activity. It’s a skill and a craft, and, yes, an art. I know I’m in the minority here. Since the 1950s most actors’ entrée into acting is through school. It is secure and comfortable to be a part of a community who all believe the same things. It’s comforting to think there is a right way to do something, and that if you learn the cumulative steps, you’ll eventually succeed. But acting—like composing, writing, painting, sculpting, dancing, singing—requires one to break free of others’ expectations and create or interpret using one’s self as an instrument. It’s not about becoming someone else; it’s about creating the illusion that you are someone else. For me, with this show, we had the skill, we had the text, and yet we fucked it up by over-thinking it. Had we followed Mr. Mamet’s advice, we’d have done just fine.

Actor. Philanthropist. Businessman. Family Man. Democratic political activist. Exemplary Italian-American. Even a frickin' race car driver!

Okay, I know the Paul Newman tributes will still be rolling in, probably for weeks. So it's too early to say he was not appreciated. Nevertheless, I'll gladly take any opportunity to remind us of his Oscar-nominated performance in Cool Hand Luke (from which I stole and altered the famous "failure to communicate" line above... BTW, Paul lost that particular Oscar to Rod Steiger for In the Heat of the Night, --no shame in that, for 1967 was possibly the finest year ever for Hollywood features) . Newman eventually won his only Best Actor Oscar for The Color of Money  in 1986. It was a fine film, but clearly a sentimental Academy vote, as it was not even close to the best work of either Newman or its director, Martin Scorcese.

Empire Falls was Newman's final live action feature film (technically it was a television miniseries, but who cares, it was better than most theatrical fare and won him an Emmy), and along with his Oscar-nominated performance in Nobody's Fool  in 1994 (both stories were written by the great Richard Russo), his brilliant portrayals in these two films showed that growing old, gracefully or not, does not have to mean the end of one's career as an artist.

Newman was also the voice of Doc Hudson in Disney/Pixar's Cars (technically his final feature), and he elevated the performances in that film considerably. As a parent, I'm glad my son's first experience of Newman's considerable talents was through such a sweet film and representative performance. In fact, I look forward to eventually introducing Graham to Butch Cassidy, the young Fast Eddie Felson, and Newman's Oscar-nominated Frank Galvin character in the David Mamet-penned The Verdict (1982). The man had both guts and charm, like few others before or since.

And we haven't even begun to discuss the way that he changed the entire face of business and philanthropy later in his life. In 1982, his Newman's Own product line was introduced (I think the pasta sauce or Caesar salad dressing was first). Good authentic food (often Italian), at a reasonable price, for a good cause. How could it lose? He eventually earned over $100 million with these food products, all the proceeds of which went to charity. Then came the Hole in the Wall camps, for children with cancer and other life-threatening illnesses.

He just celebrated his fiftieth wedding anniversary with Joanne Woodward. And while I'm sure he was no saint (too interesting to have been perfect), I doubt we'll hear a single unkind word about him.

I'm gushing now, I know. And I'm sure there are other more eloquent tributes out there. But I couldn't let this one pass. Rest in peace, Paul ...hopefully at 170mph behind the wheel of St. Peter's best stock car.

Also out this week are the decent enough Death Race, Kevin Costner comedy Swing Vote, the new Pacino/DeNiro team up Righteous Kill and the Ed Harris directed western Appaloosa.

Full cinema listings are available on the relevant page. A review for Death Race can be found here and reviews for Righteous Kill, Taken and Redbelt will appear from Sunday.

Redbelt is the story of a Ju Jitsu master/instructor who is cleverly manipulated into fighting in a competition for money.  Such competitions go against his love for and the purity of this martial art.  Since Mamet is a playwright, the movie did have a lot of dialogue and probably would have worked well as a stage play but for the fight sequences which are probably best on film.  For those who love non-stop action, this is not the film for you.  The protagonist is a thinking man's warrior who is driven by honor.  I saw the film on Friday night and had to think all weekend about whether I liked the film or not.  Some parts were slow and the build up to the final action scene was not the most exciting.  But in the end I left appreciating the vision of a man who loves his art and maintains his honor in the face of those who would sell him out.

It's now on DVD.  Check it out.

• Get them to sign on the line that is dotted.
  

Blake (Baldwin): Your name is "you're wanting", and you can't play the man's game, you can't close them, and then tell your wife your troubles. 'Cause only one thing counts in this world: get them to sign on the line which is dotted. You hear me you fuckin' faggots?

Blake: A-I-D-A. Attention, Interest, Decision, Action. Attention - Do I have you attention? Interest - Are you interested? I know you are, because it's fuck or walk. You close or you hit the bricks. Decision - Have you made your decision for Christ? And Action.

Ricky Roma (Pacino): You know how long it took me to get there? A long time. When you die you're going to regret the things you don't do. You think you're queer? I'm going to tell you something: we're all queer. You think you're a thief? So what? You get befuddled by a middle-class morality? Get shut of it. Shut it out. You cheat on your wife? You did it, live with it. You fuck little girls, so be it. There's an absolute morality? Maybe. And then what? If you think there is, go ahead, be that thing. Bad people go to hell? I don't think so. If you think that, act that way. A hell exists on earth? Yes. I won't live in it. That's me.
[pause]
You ever take a dump made you feel like you'd just slept for twelve hours?

• Glengarry Glen Ross: This is the most accurate movie to you will ever see about the selling process.
• I've been there behind the scenes at the franchise trade shows. Just a brilliant ensemble including Al Pacino.
• David Mamet won a Pulitzer Prize and Tony for his play.

Caution: lots of potty words.

Here is what Rolling Stone says:

No writer knows how a con game ticks better than David Mamet. He's proved it repeatedly as a playwright (Glengarry Glen Ross, American Buffalo) and a filmmaker (House of Games, The Spanish Prisoner). So you sense a sting in Redbelt when Mamet zooms in on ethics in the person of Mike Terry (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a Gulf War veteran who runs a jujitsu studio in L.A. according to strict samurai code. To Mike, there's shame in competition, which puts him up against the American way as he is prodded to go for the jackpot on the mixed-martial-arts circuit. Though MMA figures in Redbelt, Mamet, who studied jujitsu for five years, is more interested in the philosophy that understanding will defeat strength. With uncanny skill, Mamet directs the movie like a moral combat sport in which a variety of techniques are used to crush Mike's spirit. His wife (Alice Braga) pleads with him to get them out of debt. A crooked fight promoter (Ricky Jay) gives him the means. A cop student (Max Martini) and lawyer (Emily Mortimer) unwittingly combine to tighten the vise. An action-movie star (Tim Allen, superb at lacing charm with venom) and his producer (Joe Mantegna) offer to pay Mike for ideas they intend to steal. And finally, in a battle fought with a Brazilian champion (John Machado) outside the ring, Mike finds his way back to honor. At the center of this quiet storm of a movie, beautifully shot by There Will Be Blood Oscar winner Robert Elswit, Ejiofor confirms his status as one of the best actors anywhere. Born in London to Nigerian parents, Ejiofor can do film drama (Dirty Pretty Things) and comedy (Kinky Boots) and win raves onstage (as Othello). The resonant stillness he brings to Redbelt pulls you in. Even allowing for a few slips in pacing and judgment, Mamet is on his game, and that is a sight to see. No con.

I found the film to be top notch -If you like good acting, good dialogue and Mamet's style -I would highly recommend checking this out. It's more of a Drama pick then a real fight film but what you get will surley entertain you.

-DH

I also have a message board for Lindsay Crouse, who in my opinion is the best actress to walk on God's green earth. I have been her fan for over 20 years and she is so underrated. She should have won that Oscar for Places In The Heart!!

Please, come join my board. We are small in number, but we need others, and I know there are many other LC fans around, so come on by and let's talk about this awesome talent and her movies.

http://movies.groups.yahoo.com/group/LindsayCrouseFans/

Welcome to David Mamet's State and Main, the acclaimed writer-director's funniest and most accessible film to date, propelled by the rocket fuel of Mamet's show-biz experience and driven by an ensemble cast that simply couldn't be better. Naturally, the writer's dilemma is the meatiest one--will he be noble or sell out?--and Mamet arrives at a solution that's as hilarious as it is morally justified. Along the way, the rigors of filmmaking are explored with farcical abandon, such as how to provide a high-tech product placement... in a 19th-century story. Mamet's razor-sharp dialogue is gourmet popcorn here--each kernel yields a tasty surprise--and the whole scenario (intentionally modeled in the style of Preston Sturges) plays out with the breezy assurance of vintage screwball comedy. It's pure gold from start to finish, and even the closing credits offer another reason to laugh. --Jeff Shannon

State and Main is available at Amazon for $17.99. To Order click here
Amazon Product Pages contain a lot of other details on this product as Customer Reviews, Sales Ranking, Special Offers, Alternate products that customers are going for and much more.Want to read these details? click here

Want to get some other Format / Binding / Version? You can search for them from here

Other Products of Interest

• Heist
• House of Games
• Oleanna
• Spartan
• Glengarry Glen Ross

Dir. David Mamet

Stars: Chiwetel Ejiofor, Tim Allen, Emily Mortimer, Alice Braga, Rodrigo Santoro, Joe Mantegna, Rebecca Pidgeon, Ricky Jay, John Machado, Max Martini

The cinema of David Mamet is often populated by rogues, crooks out to make a fast buck, and they play intricate games that confound and dazzle the audience in their trickery – see The Spanish Prisoner (1997) or House of Games (1987). Redbelt, his latest film, takes place in the world of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu transplanted to Los Angeles and infused with a noir-spirit.

Chiwetel Ejiofor is the quiet centre of this film, playing Mike Terry, owner of a Jiu-Jitsu club in a rundown quarter of the city. His apprentice pupil, Joe Ryan (Max Martini showing more versatility than he does in the Mamet produced television series The Unit) is a police officer. Following a difficult training session, an accidental encounter with a lawyer, played by Emily Mortimer, kick-starts the narrative proper. To attempt to sum up the twists and contortions of Mamet’s tale that will bring Mike Terry into contact with a movie star (Tim Allen, utterly convincing for perhaps the first time in his career) crooked sports promoters and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu legends. At times it seems as if the contrivances of the script are about to overwhelm the narrative, but Mamet holds it together quite successfully.

Mamet is helped by his cast, many of them regulars from his previous work, and many his stock company – including wife Rebecca Pidgeon, and the ever irascible Ricky Jay – and these players speak Mamet’s lines better than anybody. They instinctively understand his rhythms, the cadence of his writing. Not a beat feels wasted.

Some critics have said that they feel the ending is weak, that Mamet fails to resolve many of the story stands that have been juggled. I feel those critics have missed the deeper resonances in his work – by accepting the red belt at the end Mike Terry is taking the money, admitting defeat, realising that the codes by which he has lived his life have not worked. It is a bleak ending, and perhaps not the one many would expect from the genre – Rocky must always win, the sports team must triumph, this is the formula – but Mamet is a writer who confounds the formula, and that makes him a great writer. And though there are a few strands that remain open ended, the construction of drama allows for this – and I think perhaps those same critics would have been negative against the film even if he had resolved them all, and would accuse him of being too neat.

At times in this film I was reminded of that other great noir-sports film – Jules Dassin’s masterly Night and the City (1950). That filmed used wrestling as its background, and through the codes of the sport one was revealed the characters and their mistakes. Mamet pulls the same trick and in doing so manages to make some intriguing comments on sport and its heroes.

Redbelt has also been criticised for its handling of the fight sequences – that they seem poorly edited or do not deliver the expected impact – but again I feel this maybe a misunderstanding of the reviewer who has been misled into thinking Redbelt is a sports film. It is not, it simply has sports as its background, in much the same way as Million Dollar Baby (2004) is not really about boxing.

Redbelt has a beautiful colour palette as well, photographed by Paul Thomas Anderson regular Robert Elswit (an Oscar winner for There Will Be Blood (2007)). Elswit knows how to light a scene, and in the final series of conflicts that end the movie light and darkness collide, the colours vibrate and Redbelt really comes to life. One can even see Ejiofor’s training (reputedly 12 hours a day), as he throws his whole body into fight. This physical collision is a beautiful counterpoint to the intellectual conflict of the previous hour.

Redbelt is not a great film, but it is a good one while it lasts, and Chiwetel Ejiofor is its beating heart. More and more this actor impresses, and he just maybe the best British actor of his generation. Ejiofor is why one should watch Redbelt, and to enjoy the verbal fireworks from a playwright, who even on an off day, sounds better than most.

Redbelt is in UK cinemas from 26 September.

The old joke has the young woman in her bedroom as a visitor at the castle in Transylvania when a vampire appears in the middle of the night.  The young lady grabs two wooden spoons off the night table, forms them into a cross, and thrusts them at the vampire, who responds, "Vil gurnisht Helfin,' which is Yiddish for "It ain't gonna help."

I was reminded of this joke when I read about Yale's new study which shows that when concrete proof that disproves a conservative's belief is presented, it actually makes the conservative believe it more.  Need that one more time?  Refuting a conservative belief with "facts" or "evidence" only makes the conservative believe the debunked idea more.  In fact, two times more, according to the study.

I know this is almost too weird to believe, so you might want to read more about it here and here.  But, then again, it doesn't really matter what you believe... it's true.

Let's be clear here: Everyone is quick to believe misinformation and slow to be corrected on it.  It's pretty tough to convince me that Sarah Palin really gave birth to Trig.  But, hey, show me some pictures, get a few doctors to say they were there, throw in a DNA test, and you've got me.

But it's not only impossible to convince conservatives that Sarah Palin lobbied for the earmarks she says she now opposes, by arguing with them, you actually make them believe it more.  Show them some pictures and they'll say the pictures are doctored.  Get them a few lobbyists who said they worked for Palin in securing the federal money and they'll say you're being sexist.  Throw in a CSI crime scene with Palin's DNA all over that money and they will raise the terror alert or something.

To err is human.  To dig in your heels, stick your fingers in your ears and sing is conservative.

Now, this has long been a punch line at liberal cocktail parties (where only chardonnay and brie are served on napkins made out of a ripped up American flag and Karl Marx is read aloud), but what does it mean to have it proved by science?  What does it mean for political discourse?  What does it mean for campaigns?  What does it mean for satire?

This is no small thing.  The only hope for a democracy is informed citizens or at least citizens who can stomach becoming slightly informed every four years.  But this study shows that reason, facts, reality itself, are completely beside the point for nearly half the electorate.

We can all go into denial about personal things.  "No, I don't have a drinking problem and my 15 DUIs are hardly proof to the contrary, barkeep.  Pour me another while I wait for my new liver to arrive!"  And we can all hope against the odds for the outcome we want.  "Come on Cubs!  This is our year!"  But this is something different.  This feels like saying that the dinosaur fossils were placed there by God to trick the evolutionists.

Michael Shermer went through a period when he would debate any Holocaust denier anytime, anywhere.  It will be so easy, he must have thought, with all that evidence on my side.  He found that the deniers would completely dismiss any and all evidence (including eyewitness accounts of survivors and Nazis) no matter how clearly it was confirmed.  Shermer eventually got to the point where he would just ask one question over and over again, "What proof would you accept?"  The deniers would never actually answer this question and, eventually, Shermer decided not to debate them anymore.

But, everyone knows Holocaust denial is crazy.  It may be the one time the media isn't compelled to show "both sides of the story" when they know one side is true and the other is nonsense.  Shermer can walk away from those debates knowing the world is safe from accepting the other side's perspective.

Liberals don't have that luxury.  We can't walk away from the debate because the other side is winning all the time.  But, apparently, we also can't have the debate because that only makes the other side win more.  It seems the only way to get a conservative to change his mind is to wait for him to change it himself when no one is looking.  We're six weeks out; I don't have time to wait.  It's an election year; everyone is looking.

Woody Allen tells another old joke:

Two women are on a cruise.  The first one says, "The food here is terrible."  The other one says, "Yeah, and such small portions."

I still think we're going to win this election.  I just don't know why anymore.

10) Iron Council, the most political novel from New Weird proponent and former Socialist party candidate China Mieville.

9) Sam & Max: Abe Lincoln Must Die, Telltale games has done an amazing job by bring back Sam & Max to adventure games.  This episode is the highlight of it to date, thanks in large part to seeing the homicidal rabbit-like Max debate the Lincoln Memorial.  Right now it's also available as a free trial to advertise the other 9 episodes.

8 ) Howard the Duck, the best satire of life in the 70's comics ever produced.  Of particular note here are issues 7-9 in which Howard is nominated as the Presidential candidate for the All Night Party, only to lose when some lurid photographs of him get released.

7) V for Vendetta, forget Watchmen, V is Alan Moore's masterpiece.  A searing blast of anarchy aimed squarely at Margaret Thatcher that didn't lose any of it's power when translated into a movie focused on Bush's America instead.  Both the movie and the original are well worth checking out.

6) DMZ, Brian Wood's chronicle of the second U.S. civil war (centered in New York City) is Vertigo's best book (once 100 Bullets ends in a few months) and is by far the most relevant comic currently on the stands.

5) Futurama: A Head In the Polls, always a show with a slight politicla bent to it (Al Gore's daughter was one of the writers after all), Futurama went all it for this episode in which the Planet Express team explore a political convention, watch the debates between Jack Johnson and John Jackson, and ultimately allow for the second coming of Richard Nixon.  One of my favorite episodes if only for the Hypnotoad.

4) Wag the Dog, Barry Levinson and David Mamet's brilliant tale of a staged war used to distract the public from a scandal involving the incumbant President.  Some great performances from Dustin Hoffman, Robert DeNiro and William H. Macy help to sell my favorite political film.

3) The Onion, still the best source for print satire of current events.

2) Battlestar Galactica, a continually surprising, Peabody Award winning space opera, that has proven to be the most relevant show on tv.  The writers excel at playing devil's advicates.  Positing a world in which the heroes have no choice but to rig elections, commit terrorist bombings, hold secret military tribunals and criminalize abortions (they have gone on the record as actually being fairly liberal).  Now if it'll just come back to wrap up the final season.

1) Transmetropolitan, the book that first put Warren Ellis and Darick Robertson on the map.  An epic chronicling how the press brings about the rise and fall of a President.  Besides the politics it is also one of the great works of futurism and a scathing attack on the failures of the press.  I've reread the entire thing at least half a dozen times now and I fully plan on doing so again in the near future.

NOW I remember, it was David Mamet's Redbelt with excellent everything.  It all starts with the writing and then I think maintaining complete creative control is the next essential and these are things Mamet tries to do.  Me too -- he does them more successfully as people pay him and pay to see his film -- I even paid non matinee prices which is something I never do.  Then the question comes up is money a measure of a success?  If you ask the Tao Te Ching or nearly any religious authority they'll say no; the latter will also ask for any funds you might be willing to donate so bit of a mixed message there.  And it's easy to get caught up in the numerical measures of success -- hits on a blog, money paid into a bank account and with each of these steps you lose a little control, write something with a bit less courage, make a different choice about what to do with your time, waste your energy, miss that sunset, spend that afternoon rethinking your choices when what you should be doing is whatever takes enough of your attention that you think about NONE of these other things, something that moves you so much that not even the tabloid excesses of the current election can get through.  Something that can turn any room you are into that hermit's cabin on that windy cliff over that gorgeous ever changing Atlantic seascape.

Like now.  Mamet's Bambi vs. Godzilla is one of the books I keep on my desk and his True and False I loan to actors who seem serious about the art and craft of the theatre.

Redbelt offers not only excellent performances especially by Chiwetel Ejiofor in the lead and Emily Mortimer, plus great magician.

Good night.

I think I first saw David Mamet's House Of Games as part of the excellent BBC2 strand Moviedrome (though I could have sworn I first caught it earlier than 1993 as that list would have it). I remember being struck by the coldness of the characters, and the ever decreasing circles in which they danced, as well as the sudden explosion of emotions towards the end.

It is a film about conmen. Bestselling author and psychiatrist Margaret Ford (Lindsay Crouse) is trying to break her writer's block, and through her efforts on behalf of a troubled patient ends up being grifted by Mike (Joe Mantegna). She becomes increasingly - obsessively - interested in the art of the confidence trick, and solicits the help of an initially reluctant Mike in pursuit of her new subject matter. That's the set-up, now guess the result...

It plays well against the bonhomie of The Sting, it matches the darkness of The Grifters, it is fresher than Mamet's own, later, con flick The Spanish Prisoner. Watching these four films means you can avoid wading through all twenty four episodes of Hustle, which shamelessly teefs its best bits from them. In terms of performance, Mantegna is at the Homicide end of his range rather than nudging The Godfather III.

Anyway, here's Crouse taking down some back-of-the-napkin field notes:

The necessity of dark places to transact a dark business...

Overall this movie is an intellectual, pompous attempt at an action movie. It comes across more as a locker/spa for sweaty men film. Mamet did attempt to insert one of his 'who set who up and why' plots but it was solved so quickly, it felt uninspired and rushed. Skip, there's no Spanish Prisoner here. The action sequences were probably directed by my cats, who fight with more passion, but don't know how to respond to 'CUT'

The whole honor first storyline is sh*t and childish...this is Karate Kid for the 'indie' crowd who refuses to admit they loved Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita. ..(those two did it better anyway)

By the way, this thing has more testosterone than an underground hormone dealer. Not the action movie type of testo, the 'as honorable men we should totally 'jiu-jitsu makeout and grope' testo

Acceptance by the criminal element is a type of hipness much sought after by overbred bookworms. Maggie is psychiatrist, an academic type who secretly suspects that she might actually be a dorky uptight geek Her professional pride is at stake here. Ultimately, the revelation of what kind of ride she’s been taken for, has a lot to do with where her character arc comes to rest.

Unfortunately, the way of the world seems to be that bad people always know more about good people, than good people – even career head-readers like Maggie – know about bad people. But wait, that’s too simplistic. More accurately: a thoroughly dishonest person knows more about a more relatively honest one, than vice versa.

So: House of Games (1987, directed by David Mamet)

Maggie’s book about compulsive behavior is a best-seller. Like the title of the book, she herself is “driven.” She’s a shoulder-padded, tailored-suit-wearing, compulsive-note-taking straight arrow. Her mentor tells her she’s working too hard and needs to have some fun.

A patient, Billy, tells Maggie that he owes a $25,000 gambling debt and the guy is going to kill him. Moving from her sterile, efficient glass-and-steel world into a film noir setting of darkness, steam, and neon, she goes to the House of Games to confront the gambler, Mike.

He pulls her into his world by a number of steps – first, revealing that Billy only owes $800 (Your client lies to you, I don’t.) Mike asks her to help him put something over on another gambler, which will cancel Billy’s debt (You can be useful, part of the action, not just an observer.) Then she is allowed to “discover” that this in itself is some kind of con. (You’re too smart for us, lady! Let’s all have a good laugh.) Mike and Joey, his older cohort, teach her a short con involving a $20 bill. (You’re one of the guys now; we won’t keep up our pretenses in front of you.)

She proposes doing a study of the con artist world, with Mike, of course, as her guide. He pretends to be surprised, but says okay. (Even though you’re an intellectual, I can see that you deserve to be accepted by the common people, like us ripoff artists, for instance.) He takes her to a Western Union office to demonstrate a more complicated con game. Meanwhile, all this time, Mike is very plainly telling her, in so many words, what a dupe she is, but she refuses to hear. He explains it’s called a confidence game because he is giving the mark his confidence. “Don’t trust nobody!” Mike says. He knows exactly what she wants – “Somebody to come along, possess you, take you into a new thing.” She agrees, and also agrees that she wants to make love with him. They go to a hotel where there are supposedly no available rooms, but Mike swipes another guy’s key. Every step into deception intrigues Maggie more, and she becomes increasingly bold, getting into this outlaw mode.

When she’s anxious about the room’s real tenant returning, Mike says, “If he does, we’ll deal with that thing then.” This kind of stuff really works on her head. She knows her world is conventionally tedious, and knows more spontaneity would do her good. She admires this man who meets the world moment-by-moment, rather than meticulously planning everything out ahead of time.

After they’ve had sex, when they’re getting dressed, there’s more deep conversation. Again, Mike tells the unvarnished truth. “I’m a con man, I’m a criminal.” Maggie asks him, “What am I?” Mike gets all sincere, and reflects, “I think what draws you to me is this. I’m not afraid to examine the rules and to assert myself – and I think you aren’t either.” This is, of course, exactly the kind of thing she wants to hear.

Leaving the hotel, Mike says he’s late for a job with Joey, and Maggie begs to come along. With feigned reluctance, he lets her. (We accept you – one of us!) It’s a scam that has to do with $80,000 that Mike supposedly borrowed from the Mob for this one night. When the mark is out of the room, Joey complains about Maggie’s presence. Which of course gives Mike the opportunity to defend her. (I’m giving you my confidence.) Maggie discovers the mark is really a cop and warns the others. She panics and insists that she has to get out of there, but the cop prevents her from leaving and is shot by Mike. Now she owes him bigtime, and is up to her eyeballs in something very, very bad.

The three flee through the bowels of the hotel. The Joey says, “She’s killing us, the bitch is killing us dead,” and gets rough with Maggie, allowing Mike yet another chance to be her knight in shining armor, so she owes him yet again. He makes her steal the car that supposedly belongs to the dead cop/mark.

When they’re on some waste land wiping fingerprints off the car, preparing to abandon it, they discover that Joey forgot the briefcase with the $80,000 in it! So now, Mike is sure to be killed by the mob. Maggie goes to her bank and takes out that amount and gives it to Mike, so he can pay the mob and not be killed. But they have to separate and lay low for a while…..

Maggie starts to crack up. She’s out $80,000 which Mike may or may not pay back. Much worse, she’s also an accessory to murder. She turns patients away; cancels her appointments; throws a copy of her book at her diploma, breaking the glass; dumps all the files related to Billy into the wastebasket; and generally demonstrates in other palpable ways how she’s falling apart.

But… she accidentally sees Billy the “patient” drive away in the car she “stole.” Everything begins to fall into place. At night, Maggie goes to the bar where Mike habitually hangs out. She sneaks in through the back door and eavesdrops, as Mike splits up the loot with the gang, all of whom are present – Joey, Billy, the man whose hotel room key they supposedly stole, the mark/cop who was supposedly shot dead… and there’s plenty of jocular conversation about how they made a fool of Maggie.

But the worst is yet to come. Joey remarks how slick it was of Mike to get Maggie’s money and screw her into the bargain, and Mike says, “It was a small price to pay.” On top of everything else, sexual humiliation. Mike’s quip adds the final insult to the already untenable injury of having been bilked out of so much cash by a man using psychological judo on her. As the old saying goes, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Goddam right. In most times and places, offering herself to a man will potentially or actually lead to the payment of a heavy price in some other area of a woman’s life. Aside from the personal pain of being made light of in such a way, by getting mixed up with this bozo, Maggie has risked a brilliant career. So yeah, she’s pissed.

Mike also tells the gang that he’s catching a plane to Vegas at ten that night. So Maggie is at the airport waiting for him. Leading him into a deserted area, she reveals that she knows about how he scammed her. Mike is the voice of sweet reason. “Of course you gave me your trust. That’s what I do for a living.”

“You used me,” Maggie insists. Well, duh!

Mike remains composed. “You learned some things about yourself that you’d rather not know.” He suggests that she just accept the lessons learned and get on with her life.

This script is loaded with nice little ironies. For instance, when Joey complained, “The bitch is killing us….” oh, how right he was. But the big irony here turns out to be: the hang-loose, live-for-the-moment Mike meticulously planned this elaborate long con, with many steps. And look how badly that methodology works out for him, when by-the-book Maggie spontaneously shoots the son of a bitch once and then demands, “Beg for your life.” Instead, he persists in trying to convince her that she was at cause, having sought him out in the first place.

It’s not only Maggie who learns things about herself that she didn’t particularly wish to know. Men always hope to die bravely, and Mike’s last lesson in self-knowledge is that yes, he can maintain his cool in the face of death. After being hit by the second bullet, he says, “Please, sir, may I have another?” Imagine that, a con man quoting Dickens, by way of Animal House. Somehow it doesn’t quite fit, and it might be one of those bits of authorial self-indulgence that could have been left out. On the other hand – why not? Mike’s sardonic remark could be a last-minute clue that maybe we don’t know Mike as well as we thought, and now we never will.

Maggie continues to shoot him until he’s good and dead, picks up her handbag, and calmly leaves. We last see her, a new woman, now in a flattering flowered dress and dangly earrings, at an upscale restaurant, meeting her mentor for lunch. Maggie tells the older woman she’d taken her advice: “When you’ve done something unforgivable, you must forgive yourself.” Then she steals another diner’s lighter.

First, I went to NYC last weekend, which was great.  I haven't been there since I was a little kid, which is weird seeing as I live within three hours of it.  But the best part was the reason I went: I got to meet Chuck Palahniuk.

Yes, Chuck.  But not just him.  I also got to meet one of my other writing heroes Amy Hempel.

If you're not familiar with Chuck, he's the author of Fight Club, Survior, Invisible Monsters, Choke, among others.  His new book, Snuff, is out now.  The reason I got to meet my writing idol is that he's on a tour for Snuff.  But this event was special.  Not only was he promoting his new book, he's also helping to promote the new movie based on his book Choke. The director of the movie, Clark Gregg was in attendance, as well as his surprise guest SAM ROCKWELL!!  Yeah, I was exicited.

The whole event was fanfuckingtabulous.  They gave out tons of free stuff, including a signed autograph dog, a signed blow-up doll (male and female; I got a female one), a poster signed by Clark Gregg, and a Choke anal bead bookmark.  Plus, there was a book signing, so I got books signed by Chuck and Amy Hempel, which was awesome.

If you don't know Amy Hempel, she's the author of four collections of short stories, Reasons to Live, At the Gates of the Animal Kingdom, Tumble Home, and The Dog of Marriage.  All four are in her new book, Amy Hempel: The Collected Stories.  And they're all great.  I mean she's really good.  Too good.  She's Chuck Palahniuk's writing god, which was why it was so great to see them together.  He praised her the whole time, which she, being very humble, deflected, and instead tried to praise him.  They had a really good question and answer session with each other.

And then I got to talk to Chuck and Amy, and all I can say is that they're two of the nicest people I've met.

Here are Chuck's awesome signatures:

Okay, now for a completely different topic.

I watched Mamet's Redbelt last night, a movie that I really wanted to catch in theaters, but never got a chance to.  It was great, as expected.  One of his best movies I think.  A lot of people criticize the acting styles in his movies for being emotionless, but I never got that impression, I always thought the acting matched the tone of the film (the only exception maybe being his first film,  House of Games, which can still feel a little too much like a play being filmed.  But, hey, I still love that movie).  Tim Allen has a great small role, as well.

And then there's the RNC.  I just end up laughing now whenever I hear republicans speak.  But then I have to bring myself back and realize that they're serious.  So then I get scared.

Same thing here.

On the upside, The Daily Show's coverage has been amazing.  Ditto Colbert.

Oh, and I'm back in school.  Hurray ...

In honor of Governor Sarah "Caribou Barbie" Palin's selection as the V.P. candidate, I'm sending this post from somewhere deep in the North Woods of Minnesota. (Okay, true confessions: I'm actually on a walking/riding trail in an Illinois forest preserve, no more than 100 yards from an intersection featuring a stoplight and a mini mart. But I did have to step over a lot of horse shit on the trail on my way to this ACTUAL stump, from which I will now deliver a rousing political speech.)

Hey, speaking of horse shit, how about that V.P. choice by Senator McCain?!

So, is this a bold, "maverick" choice by a maverick leader? (Here's an idea: let's get Maverick star James Garner as a back-up VP option... cowboy presidents play almost as well as war heroes in the Red States).

Or is Palin's selection-- as many center-to-left pundits are calling it-- a Hail Mary pass with the clock running out?

At first, I did not have strong opinions on the choice when it was announced. I thought: "Alaska? That's cool. I also liked that she's not a career politician, but a young reformer and supermom (I refuse to demean myself and my country by referring to her as a "hockey mom"... this is the U.S.A., not Canada or Norway!) I liked that her faith -- similar to Obama's-- seems genuine and keeps her grounded, that it's not some cloak to put on or take off whenever it's politically expedient to do so.

I knew the pick was gimmicky, a Republican attempt to win over some of the Hillary supporters and Reagan Democrats that are on the fence about Obama but don't like McCain. So Palin was potentially a smart move, the "high risk/high reward" option that the party went with, since Huckabee, Giuliani, Ridge, Lieberman and Romney -- the other front-runners for VP-- all had their downsides, either religious or political. I acknowledged that her whole "beauty queen/bowhunter" persona and obvious charisma might go a long way toward winning over those voters for whom image is everything (though they'd deny it), and for whom McCain therefore seems out-of-touch and cranky, plus risky due to his age.

She was certainly the most interesting option. I mean, look at her:

She's like Diane Keaton with an Uzi, only not so California Flaky Liberal. What's not to love, at least if you're a thirty-to-sixty something evangelical or working-class Catholic suburbanite with strong "family values", and a belief in "woman's intuition" as the missing ingredient in American politics?

Then the story broke on Monday about Palin's teenage daughter being pregnant, and I got off the fence. I now see the Palin pick for what it is: a slimy, hypocritical, gender-pandering, manipulative end-around, designed to dupe certain American voters yet again into irresponsible single-issue voting ...that issue being abortion (as if I had to tell you). 

Even though a vote for McCain/Palin would go against  the country's best interests in terms of the economy, national security, environmental responsibility, and experienced, wise government overall, religious conservatives were likely to love the pick because of Palin's staunchly pro-life position (a position which McCain does not exactly share when it comes to stem cells, by the way, nor does his wife Cindy). The Palin pick was designed to be a sexy but heavyhanded olive branch, offered to influential religious and social conservatives like Focus on the Family's James Dobson, who until recently had all but given up on this election and on McCain.

Dobson and some of the megachurchers were probably starting to come back around anyway. But I'm sure McCain's also been hearing the quiet buzz about the Obamicans, and therefore noted with some concern Barack's realistic nod in his DNC speech to work at reducing abortions. (What Barack actually said, in checking the DNC transcript: "We may not agree on abortions, but surely we can agree on reducing the number of unwanted pregnancies in this country.")

Ah, but that was all before the Bristol Palin teenage pregnancy story hit. Spin it all they want, that poor girl was the real  hurricane-force problem that the Republicans were wringing their hands about behind closed doors Monday, not some storm with a scary German name.

When I heard the news item, I immediately thought: is this really happening? Did they actually not know the girl was pregnant when they picked Sarah Palin? It sounds more like the plot twist in a David Mamet or Oliver Stone movie, the ironically amusing or gut-wrenching development which causes everyone to show their true colors. (I also thought of the book and movie Primary Colors, for obvious reasons.)

Sex has been the "wild card" in American presidential politics at least since FDR's day, maybe even since Jefferson's day. (Anyone remember Gary Hart?). In the Clinton era, lacking any substantive crime or policy-related issue to drag Bill and Al Gore down with, it took Monica-gate to send the Democrats limping out of the White House. That, and abortion. (I think Gore, also an evangelical Christian, is pro-choice.)

Thus, when I heard the Bristol Palin story, I thought, "Maybe they're so calculating that they actually did know, but went ahead anyway, just to make it look like they tried  to get a woman on the ticket, and now they're going to drop her during the convention and go with the man they really wanted in the first place (whoever that is)."

Nah. They ain't that smart, and they know we ain't that dumb. Besides, I know teens. I've been one. I've taught them. The poor girl was probably terrified to tell anybody she was pregnant (five months?!?), and then the whole rushed and mysterious process of vetting and selecting her mom went down before Bristol had a chance to come clean about her situation.

My opinion: McCain's team didn't know, because Sarah Palin didn't know, or else she chose not to tell them about it. If she told them up front as they claim now -- if she filled out the exhaustive and "intrusive" vetting questionnaire and included it on there --then let's see the document. Plus I've seen the videotape from before the "official" pregnancy announcement, and the kid can obviously be seen hiding her baby bump with a jacket. I seriously doubt McCain's handlers would have allowed a practically unknown VP candidate with such an obvious potential liability to go forward if they had known. 

But forward she went. And the Palins' hand was forced, so that the "October surprise" of this election wouldn't turn out to be a bouncing baby boy or girl. So then the McCains and Dobsons of the world had to do some major spin-control, saying they did know all along, but went ahead anyway because it didn't matter. Now they're saying the situation is one more example of Sarah Palin sacrificially living out her pro-life, pro-family values, because 1) they're obviously going to keep the baby, and 2) after all, we're all human, we all make mistakes, and we have to love our children no matter what they do. 

As I predicted, Obama has taken the high road. He made a statement saying that it was "off-limits" for a campaign to get into anything related to a candidate's family life. He also reminded us that he himself was born to an 18-year-old girl. Yeah, Barack's no dummy. He'll let the situation speak for itself: ambitious Sarah Palin, the ultimate token candidate, outed by her own family as a foolish hypocrite unable to manage her own household, let alone the nation.

And let me "out" myself on this: I'm basically pro-life. As a pacifist and a Christian-- taking God at his word when He said He knew me in the womb, and that He also said "judge not, lest ye be judged"-- I'm opposed to the taking of any life, whether it's an embryo's or a death row inmate's. But I'm also aware that my own is an extreme minority position (especially the pacifist portion of it).

In framing abortion and the conditions that lead to it as an economic and educational problem, not just a religious one, I seek to address the problem through social activism, not legislation. We need to curb the destructive messages about sexuality in the media, and do so in our families AND schools, while also acknowledging that Pandora's box is already open. We can't legislate morality, nor can we re-parent every child of every messed-up family. That means effective and consistent birth control messages should be pressed even harder than we're pressing the messages about drinking, drugs, the climate crisis, immigration, whatever social problem you want to bring up. It means we should support adoption much more strongly than we do as a nation, not just in principle but with better policies and support for women to bring babies to term. And it means attacking poverty as a "pro-life" issue, no less so than abortion. An unborn baby in Alaska has no more and no less value in the eyes of God than one born with AIDS in Africa, or with fetal alcohol syndrome in Detroit, or with a silver spoon in its mouth like Geoge Bush and John McCain had.

Abortion is certainly a sin. So are lying, cheating, and stealing (elections included).

So I'm not attacking the Republicans or the Palins for their pro-life position, just for their cynicism, self-involved policies, and narrow-minded clumsiness. I honestly wish some Republican would come along who doesn't insult the intelligence of the American public. A few years back I wondered if McCain was that guy. But he's changed. I don't trust him anymore.

In contrast, I don't agree with Obama on about 25% of his positions, but I do trust him. I'm further left on some issues, like specific foreign policy situations, and further right on others, like abortion. But I'm not a single-issue voter. And I know I'm an odd bird. I also recognize we've been presented with nothing but  "baby-killers" as candidates, from both parties, for as long as anyone can remember. It all comes down to who you define as the babies, and how old they are (isn't an 18-year-old, unnecessarily killed in Iraq, still a "baby" to his or her mother and father?).

These issues are all related. For example, in China, where abortion has become commonplace, they're courting American political and economic interests like crazy. So does the presidential candidate with the smartest and most just anti-China policy therefore end up being the true pro-life candidate, simply by virtue of condemning that nation's multitude of human rights abuses (at every age)?

Ultimately, it comes down to which candidate has the widest scope, the clearest vision, in their plan to preserve and improve the lives of as many babies (and grownups) as possible. So yes, the focus should not be on a candidate's family life, but on their good judgment and character, as seen in their family as well as their local, state and national policy record. On the family front, with her willingness to put her own daughter in harm's way, all the hard evidence I see regarding Sarah Palin so far is pretty damning.  

Heck, even Hollywood head case and former wild-ass teenager Lindsay Lohan can see that, as she points out on her blog this week. It took a small child to point out that the proverbial emperor had no clothes on. Maybe through her own mistakes, Lindsay's wised up enough to help us all get wise.

Tomorrow: some analysis of Palin's RNC speech tonight, and some troubling background on her "natural resources" agenda and record in Alaska.

He is the last noble man in a world of compromise, corruption, and con artists.   His hero is an ancient gentleman simply called the Professor.   He runs a martial arts school in a strip mall, but talks in hushed tones about “the honor of the academy.”   He is the best, but refuses to compete, because competitions require compromise.  His frustrated wife pays the bills.    Soon, you have to think, he’s going to be wandering from town to town, fighting injustice, righting wrongs, and making people say, as he strides into the sunset, “who was that beautiful stranger?”

It’s true.   The main character in David Mamet’s “Redbelt” reads like a comic book hero.   What’s amazing, though, is that it doesn’t play like that at all.   At all.  Part of this because that character is played by  Chiwetel Ejiofor, a deeply internal character who brings some real gravity and authenticity back to clichéd terms like honor and integrity.  And part of it’s because, well, this is a David Mamet film, after all.   He’s as famous for his plays (Tony nominations for Glengarry Glen Ross and Speed-the-Plow) as he is for his movies (Spartan, House of Games, State and Main.)  Happy endings, even climactic ones, are not guaranteed in the world of David Mamet.  In fact, they’re rather uncommon.

For this reason, my wife stopped watching “Redbelt” with me about halfway through.   Bad things kept happening to Ejiofor, and there was no indication things were ever going to get any better.   A jittery lawyer accidentally shoots out his front window.   An unbalanced student of the Academy seems destined for trouble.  A movie star (played, startlingly well, by Tim Allen) gives Ejiofor an expensive watch, which turns out to be stolen.   And then some other, more important things get stolen.   And Ejiofor remains stoic, honorable, taking the hits and refusing to hit back.  It felt like a tragic essay on nobility in an age of compromise, a film destined to end, well, tragically.   Not the kind of thing she sticks around for.

Then, in the third act, “Redbelt” remembers that it’s a movie about a guy who can really kick the crap out of people.   Things take a definite “Karate Kid” sort of turn; Ejiofor gets backed into a corner and decides to compete, after all.  I was astonished to realize that, even though from the very beginning this had been a film about martial arts, and had even included some nifty martial arts sequences, it had never, even for a moment, felt like a martial arts film.    Bad things happen to Jean-Claude Van Damme or Jet Li, and you get excited, because you know that eventually, the gloves will come off.   But I really never expected Ejiofor to turn badass.   I thought he’d limp into the sunset, having lost everything valuable to him except his honor, and we’d be left considering whether his sacrifice was worth it, in the end.   This is a David Mamet film, after all.
So “Redbelt” manages to be both an introspective look at honor in the modern age, and a pretty darn entertaining martial arts film.   The ending feels a little hasty; a few things happen in succession that make you wonder where people got the information they seem to possess.   But if it’s not quite intellectually up to the mustard, emotionally it hits on all cylinders.   In a lot of ways “Redbelt” achieves what scads of martial arts moves have failed; it gets us to take it seriously, and then delivers a roundabout kick straight to the head anyway.   I, for one, was floored.

Recommended

• if you’d ever wished you could combine arthouse and roundhouse.
• If you’ve ever tried to run a small business, only to see others run it into the ground.
• If you’re a student of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.
• If you think movies about martial arts are shallow and dumb.
• If you’re curious to see Tim Allen NOT try to be funny.

Not Recommended

• If you think, when it comes to martial arts films, the rule of thumb should be “more fighting, less talking.”
• If you think martial arts, codes of honor, etc, are shallow and dumb.

Redbelt released on DVD August 26.

Also released on DVD this week:  Then She Found Me

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerator."

                                                                                               Chris in Morning
                                                                                               KBHR, Cicely, Alaska
                                                                                               Northern Exposure 

When Sarah (Barracuda) Palin was chosen as John McCain's running mate it was textbook solid screenwriting inspired. A nice twist in the story. If it were a movie and she ends up VP I'd call it Mrs. Palin Goes to Washington. Kind of a remake of the Jimmy Stewart classic. 

How do you offset the first African-American presidential candidate who makes his acceptance speech before more than 80,000 people at the Democratic National Convention in Denver on 45th anniversary to the day of Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech? How do you offset Obama being raised by a single mom and forgoing a Wall Street career to do social work on the south side of Chicago?

How do you take advantage of millions of women who are upset that Hillary Clinton is not the presidential or VP candidate? How does McCain avoid being seen as just rich and elitist and out of touch with the countries economic problems?

You head north...to Alaska, that's what you do. You choose their female governor as your running mate.  A "hockey mom" with five kids (pro-family)  including one with Downs Syndrome (pro-life) , a moose hunter (NRA), whose husband is part Yup'ik Eskimo (multiethnic) and a commercial fisherman (working class) and union worker (union), whose parents were teachers (middle class), who has faith (evangelicals), who has brought reform to government there (change), who fought the "bridge to nowhere" (fiscally responsible), whose son joined the Army last year on September 11 (patriotism), and who comes from an area more than 3,500 miles from Washington D.C. (beltway outsider).

As a former broadcaster she is media savvy and can read a teleprompter. And her selection as the first VP GOP candidate came on the 88th anniversary of women being allowed to vote. And to top it off the former Miss Wasilla has the whole sexy librarian thing going on with the glasses and wearing her hair up. 

I leave it to others to debate whether she's qualified for the White House, but there is no debate she has a heck of a story. And stories outside L.A. is what this blog is all about. 

Is choosing Palin a Hail Mary pass by McCain? If so, he's old enough to remember when Doug Flutie's desperation pass beat the mighty Miami Hurricanes back in '84. Sometimes the high risk pass works.

And for the media, picking Palin is a slice of Hollywood. A political narrative full of conflict. Peggy Noonan wrote in the Wall Street Journal that Palin's candidacy "will be either dramatically successful or dramatically not; it won't be something in between." 

We know screenwriter Gary Ross (Big, Seabiscuit) has written presidential speeches for the Democrats. The talent pool of Republican or conservative screenwriters is not quite as deep (99 to 1?), but I wonder what writer or filmmaker they've employed. (Perhaps John Milius, Dennis Hopper or David Mamet.)

Maybe it was Hillary's Hollywood people (Spielberg or Murphy Brown creator Diane English)  suggestion since a Republican victory is Mrs. Clinton's only chance to make a run in '12.

No matter the outcome of the election, from a dramatic standpoint McCain couldn't have written a better script. Well, Palin could have been born in Cedar Falls, Iowa to an African-American mother and a Hispanic father and have captured Bigfoot last week--but let's not get carried away. 

Truth is stranger than fiction.

Alaska has been at the heart of many good stories as well as being full of folklore. Say, did you hear the "Little known facts" about Palin? "The Northern Lights are really just the reflection from Sarah Palin's eyes." "Sarah Palin doesn't need a gun to hunt. She has been known to throw a bullet through an adult bull elk." (Do you know how long it took for Chuck Norris to get that kind of street cred? She did it in one day.)

On second thought, Sarah Palin appears to have more in common with Erin Brockovich than she does Jimmy Stewart. ("You may want to re-think those ties." Erin, in the movie written by Susannah Grant.) But let's get back to Alaska.

Stories do flow from Alaska; Jack London's Call of the Wild, Charlie Chaplin's The Gold Rush, Never Cry Wolf, and Christopher Nolan's Insomnia written by Hilary Seltz , Pulitzer Prize winner John McPhee's Coming into the Country, Johnny Horton's number one hit North to Alaska, documentaries by Robert Flaherty (Nanook of the North)  and Warner Herzog (Grizzly Man) and more recently the Sean Penn movie Into the Wild from the Jon Krakauer book. 

But my favorite set of stories that are Alaska-based is what I think of as one of the all-time great TV programs - Northern Exposure. (In my book it's right up there with The Twilight Zone and Seinfeld.) Though the show was filmed in Roslyn, Washington it retains the feel of a small eccentric, creative town you'd like to think exists in Alaska. Some say it is based on the quirky little town of Talkeetna, Alaska and others say the quirky town of Ely, Minnesota, a town near the Canadian border in the Boundary Waters.

In part because of my love for the show I've been to  Roslyn, Telkeetna and Ely. (However, I've never been to Moosefest.)  I do think the show Northern Exposure in part lead me to Cedar Falls, Iowa. Growing up in Florida steeped on Jimmy Buffett's songs about Key West, the Caribbean, and paradise mixed with a heavy dose of Walt Disney's version of Main Street, I think I have always been looking for my own personal Margaritaville. (A place where "My old red bike gets me 'round.")

Even if you didn't get into Northern Exposure you'd have to give it points for originality. Where else in the history of TV have you seen two people arm wrestle over the doctrine of transubstantiation or see someone have a conversation with a human-sized dust mite? And isn't there a little spunky Maggie O'Connell (Janie Turner) in Palin? Yes, Palin even owns a float plane. I'm sure Noexers (as fans of the show are called) have already connected John & Cindy McCain with the older/younger couple Shelly & Holling.

Is it more than a coincidence that one of the co-creators of Northern Exposure went to college just a little over an hour from Cedar Falls? John Falsey is one more MFA graduate from the Iowa Writers Workshop at the University of Iowa. The Emmy, Peabody, Golden Globe winning producer/writer also worked on St. Elsewhere, The White Shadow and I'll Fly Away.  (I don't know much of what he's done in the last decade. "Where have you gone John Falsey?" Maybe he cashed in and moved to his own personal Cicely, Alaska.)

And I guess this blog is my own little version of Northern Exposures resident radio DJ Chris in the Morning (John Corbett). Trying to do my best to wax philosophically while making odd connections.

Cedar Falls is a little bigger than Cicely Alaska, but it's got enough characteristics to feel similar and it's a heck of a lot cheaper than Key West, FL, Seal Beach, CA, or Crested Butte, CO. No oceans or mountains here (though we do have a river and killer bike trails) but we have a perfect view of the political process as I pointed out in Politics, Power & Screenwriting.

I'm sure will see plenty of Mrs. Palin which will make up for all the times I saw Obama last year. (I think the guy was stalking me.) If John McCain and Sarah Palin don't make it to the White House I think they could have shots at a career in Hollywood. At least a reality show.

And whoever is our next president I wish they add to their packed political campaign platform a decree for films to be better. Yesterday I walked out of two movies in one day for the first time in my life. On second thought, that's really not the government's job--it's yours, so get busy writing.

And just to tie this all together as we say goodbye for now you might not know that the beautiful, haunting song that was played at the end of the last episode of Northern Exposure was written and performed by Iris DeMent -- a folk artist who is married to another folk artist named Greg Brown from Iowa City and where I believe they both now live. 

If you've never heard "Our Town" or if it's been a while since you've heard it, do yourself a favor and listen to the link below. The song resonates every bone of my body and I hope it hits a nerve or two for you. (And if you've never seen the show at all check it out because it is a fine example of great writing.)

September 4 Update: From a public speaking perspective you'd have to pull for an Obama-Palin ticket. Palin: "The difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull?.. Lipstick." Great writing and great delivery. All of this reminds me of that great Jon Stewart quip at the 2008 Oscars: “Normally when you see a black man or a woman president, an asteroid is about to hit the Statue of Liberty.”   

Copyright 2008 Scott W. Smith

(Teksti on aiemmin julkaistu Oulun ylioppilasteatterin tiedotuslehti Pläkärissä 2/08.)

David Mametin kirja Tosi ja epätosi (True and False: Heresy and Common Sense for the Actor) on hyvin mielenkiintoinen ja käteen sopiva opus, joka sopii mainiosti laiskaan sunnuntaiseen krapulapäivään. Kirja on hyvin napakalla ja viihteellisellä otteella kirjoitettu ja sen lukee mielellään loppuun asti kerralla. Läpikahluu onnistuukin lähes yhdeltä istumalta ja loppusanoihin ehtii jo ennen kuin edellisen illan mokailut ehtivät täysin palata mieleen. Kirja on jo yli kymmenen vuotta vanha, mutta sen sisältö ei ole vielä pahemmin ehtinyt eltaantua.

Mamet käsittelee kirjassaan kattavasti näyttelijän ammatin eri puolia roolityöstä koe-esityksiin ja näyttelemisen taloudelliseen puoleen. Mametin kirjoitustyyli on poleeminen ja lähestyminen näyttelemiseen ja teatterintekemiseen tuntuu olevan jopa itsetarkoituksellisesti ristiriidassa monien perinteisempien ajattelijoiden kanssa. Osansa kritiikistä saavat muun muassa teatterikoulut ja kaikenlaiset järjestelmät, joiden taakse näyttelijä voi paeta epävarmuuttaan. Itse pidin Mametin tavasta painottaa teatterintekemisen vaatimaa rohkeutta ja käsityöläisen asennetta. Roolin pohtimiseen ja näytelmän analysoimiseen voi tuhlata koko elämänsä, mutta sillä ei ole mitään arvoa, jos se ei siirry lavalle ja sieltä yleisön sydämiin. Mametin viesti on oikein sopiva kaikille nykypäivän krapulassa sohvalla makaaville taiteilijanplantuille: ylös ulos ja matkaan, rohkeasti ilman apupyöriä!

Direção: David Mamet

Roteiro: David Mamet

Elenco: Chiwetel Ejiofor, Alice Braga, Rodrigo Santoro, Emily Mortimer, Tim Allen, Joe Mantegna, Max Martini, John Machado, David Paymer

Fiquei com a triste sensação de tempo perdido no final desse filme. "Cinturão Vermelho" é tão dramático e forçadamente apegado a valores morais que varia entre o chato e o insuportável. Mesmo tendo o Jiu-Jitsu como um dos pontos principais, o filme não é de artes marciais e sim das convicções morais de uma pessoa pura rodeada por vilões e sujeitos inescrupulosos.

O andamento do filme não ajuda, pequenas e insignificantes coisas vão acontecendo até os 40 primeiros minutos, a partir dai elas se juntam e formam um espécia de teia ao redor do personagem principal, que com seus principios encara tudo de frente para no final vencer seus obstáculos da forma mais inverossímel do mundo. A tentativa do diretor David Mamet é nitidamente explorar o lado psicológico das personagens, mas ele exagera na psicologia e esquece que está fazendo um filme.

Mike Terry (Chiwetel Ejiofor) é um professor de Jui-Jitsu de uma pequena academia nos Estados Unidos. Sua vida é baseada em fortes convicções morais, que guiam seus passos para o que ele considera ser uma vida correta. O problema é que essas convicções não dão grana e a família de sua esposa, Sondra (Alice Braga), o empresário Bruno (Rodrigo Santoro) e do campeão de Jiu-Jitsu Ricardo (John Machado) o considera um perdedor (o que de fato ele é!).

Alguns eventos comuns começam alterando a rotina de Mike, em um dia chuvoso a advogada Laura Black (Emily Mortimer) entra na academia para pedir ajuda e assustada acaba atirando no vidro da frente com a arma do policial Joe Collins (Max Martini), o melhor aluno de Mike. Para não causar maiores problemas, Joe resolve não relatar o caso aos seus superiores e Mike como o bom moço da história começa a ajudar a advogada a se livrar de seus traumas.

Em uma ida ao bar de Bruno para pedir um empréstimo, Mike acaba salvando o ator Chet Frank (Tim Allen) de uma briga e os dois acabam se tornando amigos. Com Chet e Jerry Weiss (Joe Mantegna), empresário do ator, Mike entra para o mundo do cinema e confidencia alguns planos e métodos do Jiu-Jitsu.

As coisas começam a piorar quando ele descobre que sua esposa fez um empréstimo de 30 mil dólares para comprar tecidos brasileiros e montar uma sociedade com a esposa de Chet, porém o negócio está dando para trás e eles não tem como pagar toda essa quantia. Mike vai conversar com Richard (David Paymer), a pessoa que emprestou o dinheiro e durante a conversa em um bar, ele vê na TV uma de suas idéias sendo transformada em uma competição e parte com Laura, agora sua advogada para tentar um acordo com os organizadores, que no caso são Bruno e Jerry. Porém a reunião é completamente infrutífera e para piorar o advogado dos organizadores mostra algumas provas do incidente na academia e um relógio dado a Joe por Mike, que havia recebido de presente de Chet. Assustado com a repercusão, Joe se mata e Mike se vê obrigado a entrar no torneio para conseguir 50 mil dólares, mesmo que para isso tenha que passar por cima de uma de suas regras, a de não competir.

Os últimos 40 minutos de filme se passam no torneio, onde Mike descobre que tudo é uma farsa e que até sua esposa está contra ele, mas como ele mesmo diz que não existe uma situação difícil em que não se possa sair, se mostra disposto a desmascarar tudo e ai o filme cai em uns 10 minutos sem falas em que as personagens misteriosamente descobrem os motivos das ações de Mike, dão o maior apoio ao cara e tudo termina em um grande pastelão.

"Cinturão Vermelho" prestará apenas para dar mais visibilidade a Alice Braga e Rodrigo Santoro em Hollywood, que espero que tenham papéis melhores e maiores no futuro.