Sometimes when I'm watching a film, I get come up with these dialogues. Here's one that came to me last night in the throes of Goodfellas:
Man, that shit about Tarantino making the Hendrix biopic is just that—shit.
Oooooh
Quentin Tarantino has reportedly signed on to direct the long-awaited Jimi Hendrix biopic. The movie maker is huge fan of the script of the film, according to producers at Dragonslayer Films, and will team up with Hendrix's brother Leon to tell the story of the guitar great's life.
Tarantino will have full access to Hendrix's music and likeness when he starts shooting is scheduled to begin later this year in Seattle, Washington; New York, Toronto, Canada; and London.
Senior executive producer Elle Von Lear has access to interviews and live footage of the rock legend, which will be incorporated in the film.
A.M. Homes' new novel has an extremely ambitious title -- "This Book Will Save Your Life" -- and an extremely ambitious goal: to transform this middle-aged, isolated, fabulously wealthy former workaholic into a man with a sense of identity and meaning in his life, all in a matter of weeks.
"He wants to be heroic, larger than life -- rescue people from burning buildings, leap over rooftops," Homes writes. "And he wants people to notice him ... How does a middle-aged Joe become anything, much less a superhero?"
"If we are not careful criticism may become a mere excuse for taking revenge on books whose smell we dislike by erecting our temperamental antipathies into pseudo-moral judgments."
Well, not really.
In early February, onetime SMASHING PUMPKINS bassist Melissa Auf Der Maur as well as an undisclosed source "close to the situation" confirmed to MTV News that PUMPKINS bandleader Billy Corgan has been working on material that will, at some point, surface in the form of a new SMASHING PUMPKINS album. "Everyone knows Billy doesn't need too many people to make a PUMPKINS record, other than Jimmy [Chamberlin, longtime PUMPKINS drummer] — who he has [on board]," Auf Der Maur said at the time. A spokesperson for Azoff Management also confirmed that Corgan and Chamberlin had signed on with the firm as SMASHING PUMPKINS, and that the two have been writing new music.
Auf Der Maur said she wasn't not sure whether Corgan had reached out to guitarist James Iha or bassist D'Arcy Wretzky to complete the band's original lineup, but she said she'd told Corgan that she'd be happy to pitch in if he needed her; Auf Der Maur replaced Wretzky in 1999 and worked with the group until it disbanded in 2000.
Almost finished podcast last night but collapsed circa 1:30, woke up this morning later (much later) than expected, somehow slept through a scheduled phone call (rectified, thankfully), received several crazed voicemails, people freaking out, called them back and placated them, one email account cleared (more or less) with responses to all nice people, one more ridiculous backlog to go. In other words, things are more or less back to normal, but there’s still far too much on the plate. Which means…
If you've never read an Armond White movie review, consider yourself extremely lucky. Armond White is, more or less, the Bill O'Reilly of film criticism. He is an enraged bully, a bitter, bitter, bitter man who seethes with rage and disdain for basically anyone under the age of 35 (we're all smug, self-righteous hipsters, don't you know). He is one of the many cry babies who've sprouted up since the death of film criticism's most overrated film critic: Pauline Kael. Kael was a horrid writer with horrid opinions and knew basically nothing about art. (Read Easy Riders and Raging Bulls by Peter Biskind if you want example after example of this woman's staggering idiocy.) He rails against an evil cabal of nihilist atheist scum, who continually foist their Godless, baby-killing malevolence down his pious, humble, God-fearing throat. It's a good schtick, this tortured theistic martyr thing he's got going on. It appeals to people's disgust toward that whole Evil Liberal Thing that has permeated so much of our culture. You know, those smug intellectualz and the God-hating artistes they champion. White is basically a highbrow Michael Medved. White swears by the three Ss: smug, smirking, and self-righteous. White is literally incapable of writing a fucking movie review without these three words. He's a goddamned broken record. The man writes his own satire. I find it utterly faaaahbulous (darlink) that he seems entirely unable to see that it is he who comes off as the smug, self-righteous, moralizing asshole. But that's the thing with guys like Armond White and Bill O'Reilly: everybody else is always the problem.
Over the years, the inability of patients and others to believe that I am a doctor has left me utterly demoralized. Their incredulity persists even now that I am a senior resident, working in one of the world's busiest hospital emergency rooms. How can it be that with all the years of experience I have, all the procedures I've performed and all the people I've interacted with in emergency situations, I still get what I call "the look"? It's too predictable. I walk in the room and introduce myself, then wait for the patient—whether he or she is black, white or Asian—to steal glances at the ID card that is attached to my scrubs or white coat. (I've thought of having it changed to read something like: It's true. I'm a real doctor. Perhaps you've seen a black one on TV?)
Art has always been a natural expression of people's concept of the divine. Painting, plays, music - it's always been so. Movies combine those forms of expression - sight, sound, music, beauty.
So, prayer does nothing.
It was supposed to be good news, like the kind in the Bible. After three years, $2.4 million, and 1.7 million prayers, the biggest and best study ever was supposed to show that the prayers of faraway strangers help patients recover after heart surgery. But things didn't go as ordained. Patients who knowingly received prayers developed more post-surgery complications than did patients who unknowingly received prayers—and patients who were prayed for did no better than patients who weren't prayed for. In fact, patients who received prayers without their knowledge ended up with more major complications than did patients who received no prayers at all.
Is it bad that I really, really want some smack right now? I really want to get stupid-close-to-dying high. I don't want to feel anything. At all. Maybe admitting this will help.
