Goodbye, The Corolla

Today, I watched my car as it was towed away, destined for charity auction and some vague promise of a tax-deductible donation certificate. It was my mom's car. She'd given it to me when she got diagnosed, so that I could visit her more frequently before she died, which ended up being about six weeks after we transferred the title. It's gotten me around for five years now. Much like (or not at all like) my fantasy of how long I'd get to have Mom around, the time came too soon to part with the '96 Corolla. I got side swiped in May, and due to ambiguous liability in the crash, and lack of collision insurance on my part, I just couldn't afford to fix it. And, really, ultimately, I can't afford the insurance, gas, 100,000 mile service and repairs and regular maintenance anyway. It was time to say good bye.

I wrote a slightly different version of this piece a few years ago, not too long after Mom died:

One

I'm fifteen. I'm sitting on one of two well-worn recliners in front of the TV in the living room; Mom sits on the other. We're watching a “M.A.S.H.” rerun. There aren't too many shows we both enjoy; she likes cop shows, procedural dramas like “Hill Street Blues,” “Kojak,” and lately, “Murder She Wrote.” I'm into “Brady Bunch” and “Leave It To Beaver” in syndication. “M.A.S.H.” is a major overlap for us, now that I'm old enough truly to appreciate it.

Mom lights a cigarette, and I go into my defensive stance. Recently, I've taken to pulling my tee shirt up to cover my mouth and nose, so I can breathe through the cleansing filter of 100% brushed cotton.

“They brainwashed you at that anti-drug conference, Bree.” She's offended.

“I was in junior high when I went to that conference.” My eyes are still on the TV. 

“That's when you started covering your nose,” she insists. 

“It's disgusting, Ma, I don't wanna breathe it.” 

“You don't seem to mind when your friends smoke. I know B and your other friends smoke.”

 
“Mom, I'm not pickling in a house full of cigarette smoke when I'm with my friends.” I look over at her. She ashes her cigarette onto an empty plate nearby. “I hate it when my friends smoke, too.”

A commercial comes on; I can tell by the volume of the broadcast. There isn't a thought that Mom would eventually get lung cancer and die from it. Dad had died of a heart attack, and somehow I just figured she would, too. It wasn't clear to me then that smoking was implicated in heart disease as well; it just seemed like cancer was too obvious, too direct a consequence. I thought she'd just keep on smoking True Green 100's for the next fifty years, til she suddenly died at a very old age. Dad died too young; Mom would not. 

Two

I drive her car now. It's a 1996 Toyota Corolla, and owing to Mom's relatively short driving radius, it only has 60,000 miles on it. I've put on 10,000 of those just in the last eight months. It's smelling less of stale cigarettes now, but I think the tar and nicotine essence has a half life that will leach indefinitely from the upholstery. 

Cradled in the drink rest below the dashboard is a diminutive ceramic mug, handle long broken off, rough nubs in place of the two points of attachment. It's a mug I made for Mom when I took a ceramics class my senior year of high school, and it lived for many years, largely unused, in her kitchen cabinet with other cups and odds and ends. At some point, long after the handle had broken off, it became her overflow car ashtray, and while the glazed cobalt blue stripes remain sharp and bright these twenty years later, the inside is coated with ashy soot and the ghosts of stamped out cigarette butts. 

Three

I remember vividly the “M.A.S.H.” series finale in 1982, when I was ten, the scene with Hawkeye on the bus and the South Korean woman who killed the chicken sitting in her lap, so that its shrieks wouldn't give away the envoy's position to the North Koreans. Only Hawkeye had to have a couple of sessions with Sydney, the visiting army shrink, to uncover his distorted memory of the incident: the “chicken” was actually this woman's baby. 

“She smothered her own baby!” Hawkeye wailed in cathartic horror, the horror of the whole war. 

I'm angry that the car still smells of cigarettes, the recirculated air from the heater kicking up more stale smoke every time I run it. I'm angry that she picked the ceramic mug I'd made her as a makeshift ashtray: what a wholly sentimental use of your kid's ceramics project. 

As it was with M.A.S.H., it's deeply good that the anger and the grief give way to comedy, eventually.

Pain/Pain

Here's a rare thing: a poem I wrote in 2009. Just came across a paper copy in my stuff, and searched on my computer for it; my document must've been among the data I lost when my laptop got stolen a couple years ago. Glad I found this! Enjoy!

Pain/Pain

Breathe into the pain.
"I haven't got time for the pain," says Carly Simon.
P-A-I-N is French for bread.
"French toast" is called pain perdu, to the French.
Frenchy is a character from Grease.
"Grease is the word," but there is no word for the kind of pain I'm in.
I am in pain, I am pained. I am pained to find words for the pain.

Grease is viscous. It lubricates things.
Smear it on your motor bearings, but don't smear too much.
Oil works pretty good, as does butter.
Watch the butter melt and sizzle in the pan | in which you place the pain perdu.

I've lost my toast. Has anyone seen my toast?
$5.00 reward for the recovery of my lost toast.
My toast has been subsumed by a viscous batter of egg and milk.
The batter is viscous, and might as well say it: the batter is vicious.
The batter has viciously taken away my pain, but it hasn't taken away my pain.
My pain is gone.
I am pained to say, my pain is gone.


© 2009, 2011 bree_zip

Avenue Q

Avenue Q at the San Jose Center for the Performing Arts, January 16, 2010 ****

My whole family went to see this performance together. Our section of the audience ranged in age from 72 (my mom) to 24 (my youngest nephew Zach) with cultural tastes as divergent as Sinatra and Sigur Rós. Everyone got something out of the show, though unfortunately the acoustics and sound weren't great, so mom had trouble hearing it.

It's always something of a thrill to partake in a cultural production that captures some kind of essence of what I consider to be "my sensibilities." Having been born in a particular time and place, 1972 in the United States, I straddle the fence between Gen X and Gen Y, not old enough to remember the Vietnam War, but a student marcher against George Bush, Sr.'s invasion of Iraq. Old enough to have written real, paper letters to my friends through high school and college, but also an avid blogger, chatter, texter.



Avenue Q gave me the same sense of, "Yes, that's it, exactly!" as did Douglas Coupland's Generation X, Richard Linklater's Slacker, Roche Troche's Go Fish. These works made me bask in recognition, "This is me, these are my friends, this is my specific experience!" Avenue Q, with its broken fourth wall (floor?) puppeteering, takes on issues both timely and timeless (racism, queerness, internet porn, being unemployed with a humanities degree, finding life's purpose). It eagerly inhabits stereotypes while smashing them at the same time. My only critique is that the major narrative thread (boy meets girl, boy and girl fuck, boy hurts girl, boy tentatively wins girl back), a structure that may hold all the outrageous action in place, is still maddeningly conventional for such an iconoclastic production.

Super Bowl 2010 Commercial Wrap-Up

This year the theme of the Super Bowl commercial spots seemed to be: "Men need to reinscribe our dudeliness because women are threatening our masculinity."

Example 1: A Dodge Charger commercial in which a blank-expressioned (almost lifeless) man lists off the ways in which he compromises himself (presumably for his woman), i.e. "I will take off my socks before bed, I will clean the sink after I shave, I will listen to your opinions of my friends, I will listen to your friends' opinions of my friends, I will put the seat down," etc. as long as this allows him to (animated, forceful language) "drive the car I want to drive!"

Example 2: A FloTV commercial tag line: "Change out of that skirt, Jason" after suggesting that his girlfriend has "removed his spine" !!

Example 3: In the Dockers commercial, a huge group of men are wandering around in their underwear proclaiming, in unison, "I wear no pants!" Then the ad copy and announcer command men to "Wear the pants" again. This was a very tame version of the revolting print ad component of this campaign, which implores men to "step away from the salad bars" and from their lattés, blaming our "genderless society" for the broken state of our civilization. (Click the ad for a larger image.)

The most politically incindiary of the bunch, of course, was the much-publicized spot from the right-wing Christian advocacy group Focus on the Family featuring NFL player Tim Tebow and his mother sweetly recounting the difficulty she had in pregnancy and the "miracle" of his birth, insideously reinforcing the organization's anti-choice stance.




Unfortunately, Planned Parenthood's response to the Tebow ad wasn't funded enough to air during the big game, but it's nicely done, and you can check it out right here, all you miracle children!



What alarms me most about the Tebow ad, and also about the counter ad by Planned Parenthood, is that the word "abortion" is never mentioned. It reminds me of the confusingly tame ads against Prop 8 that didn't discuss the concept of "gay marriage" or "same-sex marriage," only referred vaguely to "equality." The American public needs to be challenged to talk honestly about issues. We don't need to be fucking spoon-fed euphemistic pablum. This is the same sort of short-sighted politicking that allows the "debate" about health care to be hijacked by people who liken a nationalized health plan to Nazism.

PS - I hope Tim Tebow comes out.

2009 Wrap

Before taking a bite out of my seventh annual Wrap, why not try some nicely aged appetizers?

2008, 2007, 2006, 2005, 2004, 2003

The Stuff that Occurred in 2009:

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* Block-rockin' New Year's party * Pacific Grove with the family for the ~Eighth Annual Asilomar weekend. * Heart-to-heart with my mom about keeping in touch more. * Got a Facebook message from Bianca. It was kind of amazing. * Astrid and I made a major domestic commitment: after living together for close to two years, we finally combined our bookshelves. * I got laid off of my bookkeeping gig at CompuTrap. * Astrid and I celebrated our 2-year Shack-Up-Iversary.* Looked for jobs. * DJ moved back to San Diego. Suck. * Visited with Callie and Jacket, in town for the Lesbian Health Summit. * Zombie pub crawl for Dax's birthday * Mustache-and-unibrow pub crawl for Carol * Lovely birthday dinner for Minoba. * The Bewilder reading/writing group commenced and still goes strong! * The Proust reading group failed. (Sorry Nan and Amie!) * Continued looking for jobs. * Luxuriate Day commenced! * Minoba and I dated, then broke it off, then started back up, then broke it off again. Sigh. * Turned 37! Had another fantastic birthday at Zeitgeist. * Attended a meditation group for the first time ever! * Bought panniers for my bike. * Saw Magna graduate from med school! * Got a couple small bookkeeping gigs. * Began preparations for my private practice psychotherapy internship! Holy shit!! * Saw a bunch of dear friends at a 20th reunion gathering for my Jewish youth group. Thanks again, Facebook. * Saw my niece Halina and her beau M. get married in one of the sweetest ceremonies ever. * My mom's husband got diagnosed with terminal liver cancer at the beginning of the year and died in July. R.I.P. Phil.* Almost my entire immediate family moved into a condo complex together. * Finished my two-year internship at the LGBTQ clinic. * Started my private practice! * Had another fantastic visit with Callie! * Took a vacation to Washington, D.C. and North Carolina with the astrobarry to visit dear old pals. * Astrid and I made another major domestic commitment: we got a dog! * Continued looking for jobs while the private practice slowly, slowly grew. * Can't I have a year without someone fucking with my bike? My back wheel was stolen outside of Safeway, from under the nose of a security guard. *

The Year's Culture Consumption in Review:

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My foolproof two-pronged rating system, copyright 2003 (with slight modifications), is still in effect, and is to be interpreted as follows:

Prong #1: The Star System, wherein:

Prong #2: Ranked-order:

In each category, I will rank from top to bottom the book or film or show, etc., that I enjoyed most to least. So if there were a list of department stores like this one:

Mervyn's *** (RIP)
Macy's ****
Nordstrom *****
Gottschalk's **½ (RIP)

…I could justify ranking my favorite department store (Mervyn's) above higher-end stores like Macy's or Nordstrom based not on quality of products or on consistency of customer service, but on my own idiosyncratic enjoyment, nostalgia, and satisfaction. Capische? Onward. (Some spoilers ahead!)

* * *

Books: Non-fiction (or: "Three Books about Nonmonogamy Plus Two Others.")

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Opening Up: A Guide to Creating and Sustaining Open Relationships by Tristan Taormino (2008) **** A much-needed update and complement to 1997's long hailed "poly bible" The Ethical Slut.
Taormino's book adds to the literature on nonmonogamous relationships by surveying more than 100 respondents and giving examples about the many ways in which people do open relationships. Of course, the book contains working definitions of nonmonogamy, polyamory, swinging, intimate networks, etc., but more importantly, this well-organized and thorough volume offers practical wisdom about creating sustainable relationships and "opening up" to the deeply transformative experiences that these relationships present.

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers (2000) **** I found the much-hyped, lauded in some quarters/maligned in others, highly self-conscious and conscious of its self-consciousness Eggers memoir to be highly worth reading, appendices and all.

Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage by Jenny Block (2008) ***½ Another great addition to the lit on polyamory. Block's memoir is an easy and lively read chronicling the development of her own uncompromising brand of sexual and romantic expression, from her days as a horny, curious teenager, to her conventional marriage to a man that withstood the transformation to a polyamorous marriage. More radical poly readers might not gel with Block's life choices, like living in upscale suburbia and her relative secrecy on the poly topic around her child, but these are reflections of the author's authentic self, and presented as just one bi-woman's journey toward realizing her relationship potential in her specific social and cultural context.

Staring at the Sun: Overcoming the Terror of Death by Irvin Yalom (2008?) ***½ Yalom's latest book examines the value of confronting death anxiety in order to maximize our time while alive. Full of invaluable insight from a psychotherapist decades into his career and gracefully navigating the path toward his own inevitable death.

The Myth of Monogamy by David P. Barash, PhD, and Judith Eve Lipton, MD. (2001) *** After reading this book, I now know more about sperm competition and copulatory plugs than I'd ever dreamed of knowing (which is still not much, but hell if I don't flaunt that 'copulatory plug' term). This survey of studies across a vast array of species provides ample evidence for evolutionary nonmonogamy in animals as divergent as fruit flies, cliff swallows, and humans. It is readable and informative to the layperson, and for the most part nonsexist in its language, though the geek-humorous prose rambles at times. I was also disappointed by the last chapter of the book, in which the authors go moralistic and negate the importance of multiple partners in humans by declaring that

"…although 'what comes naturally' is…easy to do, this doesn't mean that it is right. The crowning glory of Homo sapiens is its huge brain. This remarkable organ gives people the ability, perhaps unique in the living world, to reflect on their inclinations and decide, if they choose, to act contrary to them."

And while a discussion of free will, choice, and social impact is relevant in the dialogue about nonmonogamy, it seems sorely out of place in a book debunking biological myths about the dominant relationship paradigm.

Books: Fiction

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The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami (1997) ***** Murakami blends a spare writing style with rich magical elements to create this engrossing story about an unemployed man who loses his cat, then his wife, in an entangled series of events that span WWII battles in Mongolia to contemporary Tokyo.

Where I'm Calling From by Raymond Carver (1988) **** A compilation of Carver's deft minimalist prose, concerning (mostly) male protagonists dealing with intimacy issues and alcoholism. Best of the bunch, the title story (1983) and What We Talk about When We Talk about Love (1981), a story touted to me by my awesome junior college fiction writing teacher back in 1991 that I finally got around to reading in 2009. Shouts out to Barbara Loren, wherever you are, and sorry I dallied so.

Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Season Eight Comics (2007…) *** Normally I don't enter a continuing series in the Wrap until I'm done with it, but "Season Eight" of Buffy, in comic form, started in '07 and just keeps going, so I wanted to mention I've been reading it religiously. The comic series picks up where the Scoobies left off in the TV series, in a world full of slayers and serious Big Baddies. The artwork is top notch, and many of the narrative arcs are compelling and true to the Buffyverse as we know it. It's a fun fantasy ride for fans jonesing for the old days. And the letters section at the end of each issue is worth the $3.00 alone.


Hotel World by Ali Smith (2001) *** A story of the accidental death of a young woman, a hotel chambermaid, told from the perspective of five different women whose lives intersect around this event in transient and profound ways.


Life After God by Douglas Coupland (1994) **½ Short story collection by the Generation X author and visual artist. A few passages offer some transcendence; I was particularly moved by a story in which dead narrators describe their last moments on Earth as The Bomb hits. Overall, I found the writing to be wan and lacking in depth.


Films in the Theater:
(I was too broke this year to see many films out.)
*Edit 1/29: I forgot to include Star Trek in my film reviews. Sticking it in there now.

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Mein Freund Aus Faro (To Faro)(2008) *** Satisfying story about a German woman in her twenties who, through a case of willful mistaken identity, passes as a young Portuguese man. While it's not a technically brilliant film, and the story relies on some well-worn narrative tropes, it's a welcome addition to the growing list of films dealing honestly and sweetly with genderqueer experience. Screened at Frameline 33.

The Wrestler (2008) ***½ This movie prompted a heated discussion among the gang (it was a gathering for DJ's birthday back in January). Some of us loved it and thought it was brilliant (DJ), some of us absolutely hated it (Calisto & Dave). I fell just short of loving it, but I give it a strong recommendation. Mickey Rourke's Golden Globe-winning performance was pitch-perfect, and the emotional resonance of the story felt all too real. I take some points off for a clichéd depiction of the relationship between Rourke's burned out absent father and his bitter daughter (Evan Rachel Wood).

Up (2009) ***½ Sweetly compelling, and often delightfully funny meditation on life, death, and the importance of making intimate connections. As with last year's Wall-E, family-oriented films which offer emotional and/or philosophical sophistication can be satisfying on an archetypal level that can sometimes transcend "adult" live-action narratives. And like Wall-E, this film packs most of its punch in the first 30 minutes before devolving into the kid-pleasing slapsticky schtick.

Star Trek (2009) ***1/2 Somehow the Star Trek origin story with the shiny new cast didn't make it into my Wrap notes! I guess it didn't leave that much of an impression on me. I liked it, for the most part, but I wasn't a fan of the Kirk childhood scenes set to the Beastie Boys. I also thought the future-Spock mind-meld narration about two-thirds the way into the film was completely unnecessary. Otherwise, a compelling story and visually awesome.

Getting Off and Le Tour de Pants at the Dirt and Desire program at Frameline 33 *** Rude queer raunch-fest! A good time was had by all. [Full disclosure: I know the filmmaker and co-stars of Getting Off].

District 9 (2009) *** People raved about this movie, but I was left feeling emotionally flat afterward. Never mind the constant blood shed and brain splattering throughout (I was prepared for that), the so-called rich metaphor for Apartheid and dehumanizing racial stratification was as blaringly obvious as an enormous spacecraft hovering over Johannesburg. I applaud Neill Blomkamp for mounting an engaging and socially relevant action film on a shoestring budget and bringing attention to the dynamics of race and poverty in South Africa. But I would have liked to see the film set in present day, rather than in the Eighties during the Apartheid era: racial stratification and abject poverty still exist. This is a story that could play out in 2009 East Oakland, Hunter's Point, New Orleans, Cleveland, not just in the shantytowns of Jo'burg.

War Games (rerun, 1982) ***1/2 and Red Dawn (year) ** Double-feature revival at the Castro. I'd never seen Red Dawn before, and apart from the fun in seeing the young '80s celeb cast and the cheesetasticness of the plot, it's really just a jingoistic, racist hodgepodge of violence. I still have an abiding love for War Games, but I have to say for the record that Ally Sheedy's character, Jennifer Mack, was written to be such a fucking airhead that it's maddening to hear her lines. She's stuck in as a proxy for explaining terminology to the audience that doesn't even need to be explained, as in:

Jennifer: What are those?
Falkan: Those are launch codes.
Jennifer: What are they for?
Me: Really?

The Muppet Movie (1979, rerun) ***½ Revival at the Clay. Fun stuff, and cameos galore by every '70s celeb you can think of.

Films on DVD/Download:

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Synecdoche, New York (2008) **** Had to watch it two nights in a row. Can't remember the last time I did that. Charlie Kaufman's latest, and his first directorial effort is not a perfect film. It rambles almost uncontrollably (like the non-narrative of life). It's morbidly self-fascinated, like I find myself more often than I publicly admit. Sometimes it's just too weird. But then there is the awesomeness of philosophical accomplishment, of the structure of the universe Kaufman has created. It's such a difficult film, it demands so much of the viewer, and fuck's sake, I want to see more movies like that.

Happy Go Lucky (2008) **** Truly great performances by Sally Hawkins as a bright and cheery school teacher and Eddie Marsan as a mentally unstable driving instructor. Subtly wrought scripting and direction by Mike Leigh, as always.

Adventureland (2009) *** Jesse Eisenberg continues to be adorably nerdy, Kristen Stewart proves she can act convincingly, the supporting cast is fantastic, and Greg Mottola manages to add sophistication to his superbad oeuvre. If the resolution of the film had been less sugary, I'd have bestowed another half star.

Burn After Reading (2008) ***½ I've never felt so disturbed after watching a film that is primarily a comedy. The Cohen Brothers mix genres again (see Fargo; The Big Lebowski) to deliver a tale of espionage carried out by dimwits which results in ever-devolving consequences.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008) *** What I enjoyed: the cinematography, Penélope Cruz's fantastically batty performance, and a more nonjudgmental attitude toward nonmonogamous relationships than we typically see in film. There were some flaws, though: the film-length narration detracted from a story that didn't need further clarification, and went some lengths, in Ms. Astrid's astute observation, to erase Cristina's character, portrayed in Scarlett Johannsson's usual bland timbre.

Jonestown: The Life and Death of Peoples Temple (2006) **** Gripping documentary about the community that cult leader Jim Jones built first in Northern California, then in San Francisco, and finally in Guyana, South America. Vividly rendered, disturbing, and rich with complexity about the lives changed and shattered at Jonestown.

Coraline (2009) *** I enjoyed it but felt like it was derivative of any standard fairly tale you've already heard. I did not, however, read the Neil Gaiman book from which the film was adapted. Here is a guest review by Ms. Astrid, who knows better:

"I think the best thing about the movie was the titular song by They Might Be Giants. Go read the book. It's short; you have no excuses."

Muriel's Wedding (1994, rerun) ***½ Always a pleasure to re-watch the ol' gang from Porpoise Spit.

The Double Life of Véronique (1991) *** I love Krzysztof Kieslowski. See the Three Colors trilogy for some absolutely amazing filmmaking, visual direction, symbolism, and compelling women characters. This film, I feel, sacrifices some depth for accessibility.

High Art (1998, rerun) ***½ Still holding steady as my favorite dyke flick of all time.

Colma: The Musical (2007) *** A lot of fun for an extremely low-budget coming-of-age film. Three kids try to bust out of the (almost literally) dead suburb of Colma, California and confront real after-high school life, homophobic parents, love triangle drama, and their own volatile temperaments.

Once (2007, rerun) *** On second viewing, I'm nixing a half star. I'd still say the movie's success is a triumph for indie film, and the ending is a rare example of cinematic restraint in staying true to the narrative instead of handing us a commercially-friendly happy ending. But I have to say that the film relies too much on the music to pull it along and that it lacks sufficient focus on Markéta Irglová's character.

Bandits (1997) **½ A rock band from a German women's prison bust out and become a national phenomenon on the lam. See a deeper review of this shallow but sometimes enjoyable film here.

Midnight Cowboy (1969, rerun) **** Still a piece of master screenwriting and filmmaking, but it's hard to imagine a film being made today with such a torrent of homophobic portrayals, even as it can be coded in some ways as a gay love story.

Sherry Baby (2006) **½ An emotionally flat script that spoon-feeds us every plot point in the narrative detracts from Maggie Gyllenhaal's strong performance as an ex-con addict trying to rebuild her relationship with her young daughter.

17 Again (2009) **½ The big-box video store reeled me in with their shiny promo poster, and I'm a sucker for body-switch and/or I'm young again! comedies (see the original Freaky Friday from 1976 for the best of the bunch). This one has a lot going against it: Zac Ephron and Matthew Perry look nothing alike; we've seen dozens of better films, both comedy and drama, about living a life of regret, and the writing and acting are, on the whole, as broad as you'd expect. But there were some genuinely amusing moments, particularly when supporting characters Ned and the high school principal (Reno 911!'s Thomas Lennon and Melora Hardin) were involved, playing a pair of Star(Wars)-crossed lovers.

La Confusion des Genres (Confusion of Genders) (2003) **½ A bi man is attracted to everyone in his life and ambivalates equally about all. Genders aren't confused in this film so much as the narrative is. The sex scenes are pretty hot, though.

Not Another Teen Movie (2001) **½ Pretty much what you'd expect from a teen-angst genre parody: broad humor, losing your virginity subplots, and some nostalgic references. A satisfying cameo from Molly Ringwald, but you have to endure the movie til the end to see it.

Team America: World Police (2004, rerun) *** Clever, often truly funny, and intentionally offensive spoof on U.S. militarism in the wake of the so-called "war on terror." I appreciate and understand the South Park guys' artistic choice to skewer everyone, left or right, but my own sensibilities are strained by this equal-opportunity bashing. Just as with any extreme relativism, be it political or cultural, if all sides are played equally, any meaning is effectively negated. I'm sure the filmmakers intended the movie to stand alone as a comedy, in which case any "meaning" read into the work can be rendered irrelevant. But the film would be stronger as a political satire, necessitating the choosing of sides, however ambiguous or ineffable that task. Another ding to the film is that much of the humor is derived from racist stereotyping. Whether "self-aware" or not, it's still too offensive at times for my blood.

Choke (2008) ** The tone of this movie is glib, but it takes itself too seriously as a "finding the self" narrative that never finds itself. And for a movie with a lot of sex, it's about as sexy as cold lunchmeat. Sure to be a disappointment after David Fincher's brilliant adaptation of Chuck Palahaniuk's earlier novel, Fight Club.

Lost Highway (1997) * Sorry, Mr. Lynch. I just didn't get this one. Can anyone out there vouch for it or offer interpretations?

TV Shows and Web Series on DVD/download (and one show in real-time):

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Battlestar Galactica, Reimagined Seasons 1 through 4.5 (2003-2009) ***½ I would have rated it a solid 4 stars overall, except that the series finale was so disappointing that it detracts from the appeal of the entire venture. If you're a fan of the series and don't mind plenty of spoilers, check out this detailed analysis of the finale from a similarly disappointed (and far more serious) fan. I still recommend the series highly. Every episode is visually compelling, full of complexly flawed (and sexy!) characters, and dramatically tense as hell.

Dollhouse Season One (2009) **½; Season Two (2009/2010) ***½ Joss Whedon's now cancelled show is high on concept but often low on execution, and I'm one among many fans who is disappointed but not shocked that the show got axed. The premise is ambitious: a secretive corporation employs/(enslaves?) humans by wiping out their personalities with neurotech, imprinting them with desirable personalities (and sometimes mad skills!) and using them as operatives to service the wealthy. And because this is a Joss Whedon project, there are lots of moments of real complexity, profound moral questions, and compelling explorations into character arcs. The premise, however, quickly outpaced both the writing (often hammy and convoluted) and the acting (primary foul committed by lead player Eliza Dushku as Echo, unconvincing in any incarnation if it didn't involve ass-kicking). Many supporting players, however, were fantastic, with special props to Olivia Williams as Dollhouse Chief Adelle DeWitt, and Enver Gjokaj as Dollhouse active Victor.

Note: The second season of Dollhouse is wrapped and the final episode airs January 29, 2010. I'm cheating by reviewing both seasons in the 2009 Wrap. Oh well.

Mad Men, Season One (2007) ****, Season Two (2008) **** It took me a few episodes to adjust to the tone of Mad Men. The overt sexism and racism, inherent in the show's early '60s upper middle class white milieu, were hard to swallow until I grasped its subversive message. Now that I'm hooked, there's no turning back on one of the slickest and smartest shows on TV. Well, DVD, in my case.

Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog (2008) ***½ Buzz-generating web musical from Team Whedon. A brilliant self-produced diversion from the WGA writers' strike in '08. Worthy of the hype.

Arrested Development Season One (2003, no rating) A lot of people in my life absolutely love this show. After seeing the first season, I'm still a bit ambivalent. There are moments of absolute comic brilliance (Gob's Final Countdown; Buster and Liza Minnelli, Tobias) but the pacing is so fast and the snark factor so high that I think I would have to watch it through twice to appreciate it fully and give it a fair rating.

Tipping the Velvet (2002) *** and Fingersmith (2005) *** British TV serials based on the Sarah Waters books. Really fun, if campy, Victorian era teleplays with lesbionic themes.

The L Word, Season Six (2009) ** The final season was infuriating, where it could have been campy and self-aware. It tried to be both those things, really tried, and flailed. Jenny is killed off in the first episode, and the rest of the short season is an extended flashback to fill us in on the three months before the deed is done: three months of vapid, pointless subplots that made me hate characters I'd actually come to enjoy over the course of the series. Jennifer Beals's Bette was the only saving grace of the season, acting sane in the narrative chaos.

The Playlist
(The old and newish music I acquired this year.)

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Fleetwood Mac - Rumours (1977) ***** Pure pop bliss, even if when the songs are rooted in heartbreak.

The Breeders - Mountain Battles (2008) *** Best Breeders album since Last Splash, though not as monumental. Solid post-punk pop like only the Deal sisters know how.

Buzzcocks - Singles Going Steady (1979/1992) **** The libidinal punk explosion of Pete Shelley and the boys sounds as crisp in the Aughts as it did in the late '70s, and only benefits from its compilation-concentration of catchy tracks.

Robyn Hitchcock - (several albums) ***½ Part singer-songwriter, part post-proto-punk ("post-proto-punk" - did I just coin a really redundant term?), always odd and enigmatic. If you like early Bowie, or Marshall Crenshaw, give Mr. Hitchcock a spin.

This Mortal Coil - It'll End in Tears (1984) ***½ One of those old 4AD acts that I'd always wanted to try out, but had never given a listen to. Moody to the nth. Essential listening for your inner clove-smoking, poetry-writing goth kid.

Radiohead - Hail to the Thief (2003) ***½ Another great return to un-form for the band of many incarnations.

Three Dollar Bill - Getting to Know You (1998) **½ Underground queer pop-punk from Chicago. Check it out if you like homopolitik with your poprock. [Full disclosure: I'm friends with a band member, and got this CD for free. I'm sure the new FCC rules don't apply to this situation, but, you know, just in case. I'm clean.] Post-punk, pop, indie.

Sunset Rubdown - Random Spirit Lover (2007) *** A small handful of excellent tracks, but disappointing held next to the band's earlier, magnificent records. Sonic swirl, surreal lyrics bordering on cutesy.

Live Shows
(Again, way too broke for shows this year. Sadness.)

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Mount Vicious at the Hemlock Tavern, SF, May, '09 *** Hooky hard rock that incites political outrage. Beware, you'll be holding up lead singer Conan Neutron for like ten stage dives per show. [Full disclosure: I know Conan.] MV-->

Loop!Station at Café du Nord, SF **** - Lush layers of melodic cello overlaid with equally lush vocals. Thanks to K & M for taking me to the show!

~~Fin~~

Thanksgiving at the Compound

Can't believe I haven't told you about the Family Compound yet! It's apropos now, since we had our first Thanksgiving there yesterday. Here's the deal: the vast majority of my immediate family has moved into a condo complex together in the thriving pseudo-metropolis of Campbell, California, home of, among other things great and small, the Pruneyard Shopping Center.

It's not like a kibbutz or like Jonestown; it's actually five discrete condos in an upscaley complex, initial purchase made possible by some shifting around of real estate and assets by my sister C. & brother-in-law Sid. The population of the compound includes both my sisters, my brother-in-law, my nephew Joey and his wife D., my niece Halina and her husband M., and my niece Ursula and nephew Zach. And five cats. The family thus far makes up approximately 25% of the sold units in the building, which means my brood will utterly dominate the HoA. The family-bearing units in the Compound are distributed thusly:

Unit 1 - C. & Sid's place: three-bedrooms, and the likely hub of many future family gatherings.


Unit 2 - My sister J.'s place: two bedrooms, one filled floor-to-ceiling with skeins of yarn (I should know; I helped her unpack it). Locus of crocheting and creative fiction writing frenzies to come. Also home to two kitties.



Unit 3 - My niece Halina & hubby M.'s place: three bedrooms, a laundry room, and likely site of much newlywed bliss. One cat.


Unit 4 - My niece Ursula & nephew Zach's place: two bedrooms, a sweet loft, and likely home of many poker games and Buffy re-viewings. Urse and Zach are cousins, and had been sharing a place together before the Compound was hatched up. Zach has a new kitty named after a maneuver in a popular video game.

Unit 5 - My nephew Joey & wife D.'s place: two bedrooms, an enormous veranda, and likely scene of many future Rock Band games. Hopefully also a hot tub, when the family rules the HoA and does away with the hot tub ban. Oh, yeah, and they've got a cat, too.

The married young couples are taking over paying the mortgages; the others, pretty much renting from C & Sid. It's more complex than that, but that is the pertinent gist. The only close family members not living in the Compound are Mom, happy in her own place for now, and Astrid and I, who are still attempting to eek out a living in San Francisco. I guess if we'd wanted to live in the South Bay, a glistening new unit may have been ours as well. I tried to convince the above players to pack up and move to the City, but it was a no-go.

What's fantastic about this whole thing is that all the twenty-somethings seem to be completely on board: everyone actually wants to live in such close proximity to their parental-types. I dig my family. But yes, they're weird. Present company included.

* Yes, I'm using the highly-gendered bathroom icons knowingly.