This time around there is actually meaningful edification in addition to my film review.
Martin Scorcese’s mesmerizing “Hugo” is my favorite movie of the year.
Listen and discover why.
Plus, in answering a question from my host Duke, I explain why it is that I’ve liked so many films in the last several weeks. It has to do with short memories and Hollywoodland’s culture of paranoia.
I just learned that Coco Robicheaux — artist, musician, voodoo hoodoo, Louisiana legend, spriit force — passed away a few days ago.
Though of Cajun ancestry — his given surname is Arceneaux — he was born in California, but was Louisianne through and through, and settled in the bayou.
His adopted name came from the legend of child named Coco Robicheaux, whose soul is captured by a werewolf.
I know little else of him. But I never missed his set at JazzFest. His music is soulful, full with mystery and bayou gris gris. It’s as if he and his band emerged from the swamp, covered in moss and muck, as if in some B horror film. Then would break out into a grizzled tune that would cut to the core of melancholy.
Tony Stewart just won the final NASCAR race of the season to nab the season title by catching Carl Edwards at the wire. Literally.
Americans have long had a fascination and love affair with cars and speed and auto racing. Open wheel or stock.
It didn’t start at Indy. Or with Junior Johnson and the stocks.
Auto racing in America commenced on November 28, 1895. The race was sponsored by the Chicago Times-Herald. It started in the Second City at Jackson Park. The finish line was in the metropolis of Waukegan, Illinois. The winner was one Frank “Leadfoot” Dureyea. He averaged a speedy 7.5 mph in the race, which took 7 hours and 53 minutes to complete for the winner. Read the rest of this entry »
What a podcast this one is.
First you get Kyle Meredith reporting in on the Bob Seger After Party. Admit it, you’ve been waiting for that.
I give my take on that concert, from which the Film Babe and I exited at halftime.
Kyle issues a demurral.
Then I review a most intriguing film about the older sister of one famous composer.
Check it out.
There are certain disciplines which simply come most easily to lithe sub-teen girls.
Hula hooping comes immediately to mind. When the craze first hit way back in the yesteryear of my youth, it was the bane of my existence. I never could get the thing going and to stay up. Sally down the street would get a hoop spinning in the morning and not stop until she went to sleep.
Jumping rope is another. Though boxers, as well as those ingenues, are also excellent practitioners of the art.
All of which leads to this relatively useless bit of infomania.
On November 21, 1837, an Aussie by the name of Thomas Morris skipped rope 22,806 times. I assume it was without stopping. Read the rest of this entry »
This week’s shtick on FPK 91.9 began when yours truly offered up a mea culpa.
I’m not going to go into the whole thing again here — you’ll have to listen — but it has to do with a debunking of one of my favorite local rock & roll myths. I’ll need to come up with a new game plan.
After which I get into my whole raison d’etre in the first place. Legitimate film criticism.
This week I chat about an obvious choice, Clint Eastwood’s take on the life of former FBI dictator J. Edgar Hoover, portrayed by the estimable Leo DeCaprio.
Then, a not so obvious choice, a haunting indie titled “Martha Marcy May Marlene,” with an amazing performance by Elizabeth Olsen.
You can here it all here:
Since I am starting this week’s trip back into history on a most literary note, I feel it imperative to eschew any introductory small talk and commence with the proceedings post haste.
So I shall.
I’m an old school guy. There were novels that we “had to read” along the way. Otherwise we would have been considered less than fully educated. At the university from which I eventually graduated, “Anna Karenina” was mandatory. (The joke was that there’d be a pop quiz graduation day on the podium, before the school president would hand you a diploma.)
Somehow I avoided reading it, though I’m sure it would have been worthy of my attention. Too long. Too many characters. Not enough razzmatazz. Too, you know, Russian. Read the rest of this entry »
Yeah, okay, it’s T G I F and your favorite team opens the basketball season tonight. (I know my favorite school does.) And it plays again on Sunday. (I know my school does.)
Sandwiched between those tilts your favorite team plays an important home football game. (I know my school does.) And then there’s a righteous concert tomorrow.
You know, your basic boffo autumn weekend in the offing. All the while getting to spend some time with your sweetie who has been out of town.
So you got to kickstart it, right? Get things movin’ in the right direction. I figure you might as well start at the top.
John Lee Hooker. Van Morrison. Doing a live version of one of the seminal rock & roll songs of all time.
Let’s get this party started.
Just the Same as it Ever Was. Some institutions are inexorable.
Count the culture of the Jefferson County Court system among them.
I worked as a prosecutor in the Hall of Justice for 25 years. I retired, not sure exactly, 6, 7 years ago maybe. I had to be back in the building this morning for the first time several years.
Unlike the old days, the building is non smoking, so the air is visually clearer, if no less laden with every germ extant. (But one still has to pass through a phalanx of smokers outside the doors to enter the building.) The dockets are now displayed on digital screens, like the ones you see with Arrivals and Departures at the airport. And the District Courts are full time, with dockets in both the a.m. and p.m.
Other than that, it’s pretty much just the same as it ever was. Read the rest of this entry »
The eagle eyed among you will surely already have noticed that for the third consecutive week, there’s a slightly different twist to how I title this deal. And, so you can rest more easily, I believe this to be the final iteration.
Film Review Podcast, it shall be for now and forever more . . . or until I change my mind again, whichever comes first.
Fortunately, since it happened during Kyle Meredith’s “Daily Feed” shtick that immediately precedes my weekly review, you won’t have to listen to his infantile carping about the sartorial choices I made while dressing for work this morning.
But you shall be treated to some righteous banter with Duke, a correction of said Mr. Meredith regarding the derivation of the band he played during his stint, and two boffo reviews, of “Tower Heist” & “Harold & Kumar’s Excellent 3D Christmas Escapade” or whatever the film is called. I call it funny.
Listen up, ya’ll.
Since I’m starting off with a seminal moment of one of the 20th century’s greatest whipping boys, there’s no reason not to kick start the Look Back Machine.
There are so many gloriously bad days in the political life of Richard M. Nixon that I hesitate to choose a favorite.
His “I am not a crook” day was plenty special. So too when he boarded that helicopter on the White House lawn in ’74 enshrouded in the disgrace of resignation because, well, because he was a crook.
But November 7, 1962 may be more important. Because if he hadn’t been lying through his teeth on that day, we wouldn’t have the others mentioned above to gloat about. Read the rest of this entry »
The observant among you will surely notice the slight change in title this week. The moniker “Radio Film Review” always seemed a bit oxymoronic to me, so my fingers typed something else this time around.
That said, it’s the same observant critical analysis you’ve come to expect through the annums from Culture Maven on Film.
This week I dissect two unexpected pleasures.
“Margin Call” which actually humanizes the oft demonized financial barons who caused the financial meltdown.
“The Rum Diaries” is a loving and sweet homage to pre-Dr. Gonzo Hunter Thompson by his late in life pal Johnny Depp. Plus a new glamorous Hollywoodland starlet comes to the fore.
Have a listen:
