All said and done, it’s not a good thing.

Like any human, my perspective, my predisposition about a movie, is swayed. I am inclined to look forward to a film, and thus my review will be skewed by those expectations. If it doesn’t hold up as I had hoped, I’m likely to dismiss it more than if I hadn’t any advanced feelings. And vice versa.

Like I said, it’s not a good thing. But it’s human nature.

Which is why I crave those situations when I can see a flick about which I know nothing at all. Every once in awhile one will open that I haven’t even heard of. I cherish the moments. They’re like cinematic blind dates.

Such was the case with “The Foot Fist Way.” (more…)

As if there wasn’t enough other preparation going on.

(I won’t even mention the fans with our photo on it standing with the Sydney Opera House in the background she conscripted me to make the day before the nuptials. So our guests wouldn’t swelter in the humidity of our backyard.)

So I proceeded to gather love ballads to transfer to my PC, then burn onto a master CD, from which we’d burn enough copies on a stand alone CD copier for each and every attendee.

Which process has led me to a major change. I now reside in the world of Apple. After years of fighting the urge, after months of laughing at the hugely effective advertisements in which Microsoft Vista is dutifully and deservedly skewed, it was only after I couldn’t get my boutique PC to recognize the E Drive to burn the wedding CD that I made the switch. (more…)

One of our dinner gang mentioned “The Harder They Come” and “Gandhi.” He thought both flicks taught him the same lesson about perseverance in the face of oppression. Legit topics which can be discussed at another time. That’s not my purpose here.

Another mentioned “Woodstock.”

The suggestion resonated. Since hearing of the Idea Festival’s challenge I hadn’t really come up with any movie that I could say with any legitimacy changed my life. ( I do remember being fascinated with Red Skelton in “Excuse My Dust,” saw it any number of times. But, hey, I was only six. And I don’t think it changed my life.) But the mention of Michael Wadleigh’s 1970 documentary of the seminal music festival in upstate New York the summer before struck a chord. (more…)

Overly exhausted from the stress and excitement of the move — a house and two condos into one — I couldn’t sleep. I got up in the middle of the night and hauled empty packing boxes to the basement.

On my second or third trip, I slipped and fell down the steep flight of steps.

The back of my neck grazed a concrete abutment during the fall.

As I lay on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, I immediately thought of a friend of Joanie’s who had a similar accident just weeks before. His head crashed against an abutment. He went into a coma, soon to pass away.

I was grateful to be alive. And unscathed. (more…)

I’m compelled to ask after observing the reaction of Louisville upon receiving the news that He Who Would Be The Tiger won’t be coming to the Ryder Cup. (more…)

You gotta love a guy who, along with a pal or two, turned obsession with the Coen brothers’ The Big Lebowski into a reasonably lucrative cottage industry. Annual festivals across the country, paraphernalia, a book for heavens’ sakes. Such Achievers, those boys.

So while we were each waiting for our actual coffee companions to arrive, we shot the shit. I asked if any actors from the film have actually showed up at any of these festivals. Yes, several. And Will explained as how Jeff Bridges, who played The Dude himself,posted at a festival in L A. Brought his band too. “Really nice guy,” advises Will.

Which conversation got me to thinking about these types of gatherings which attract myriads of obsessed aficionados from hither and yon. I guess the biggest cult of these sorts involves Star Trek. But, given that Lebowski Fests are centered on bowling and White Russians, they’re obvious looser and more fun. (more…)

Well, it’s about the same in New Orleans. JazzFest, the world’s premier music festival, always ends the day after Derby, and the tired, somewhat empty feeling in the Crescent City is similar to that here in Derbyplace USA. (Okay I know that Ash Wednesday at Mardi Gras epicenter also invokes a major sigh of relief, but work with me here. I’m trying a new segue on my annual New Orleans during JazzFest update and the metaphors aren’t coming through cleanly.) (more…)