The Man with the Golden Gun was released 34 years ago today in the United States. (via fuckyeah007)

Alexis likes to dance.

Great interview. Thanks, Alexis, for sending me this. (via vicemag)

Yes, I know the experience of being online today is a frustrating escapade of wading through the large volumes of pointless drivel that people feel the need to share when it comes to the topic of James Cameron’s Avatar. Why they will love it, why they will hate it, why they saw it at midnight last night and had wet dreams about it and are going to see it again today when their shift at Arby’s is over. I’m pointing this out to acknowledge that I’m aware of this situation, even as I prepare to dump my proverbial pile of shit onto the ever-growing pile. Yes, this is my entry into the self-reflective shoe-gazing that Avatar is inspiring today, but I wouldn’t share it if I didn’t think it might hold some entertainment for you as the reader. So now, I want to tell you in simple terms why I’m excited to see Avatar.

Love him or hate him, it’s hard to deny that James Cameron is the preeminent science fiction storyteller of our time. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone under the age of 40 who has not been influenced or impacted by one of his films, whether it be the gritty sci-horror prognostication of Terminator or Aliens, the fun escapism of True Lies or The Abyss, or the romantic idealism adventure of Titanic. For better or worse, the man loves to top himself and relishes the opportunity to silence his many critics and naysayers, and so each subsequent movie he’s made has been bigger, bolder, and more risky than the one before. He clearly embraces and reinforces the image he’s managed to fashion in the public eye, one of being a crazed, ego-driven taskmaster, a terrifying battle-hardened general who won’t take no for an answer and refuses to compromise his vision, even in the face of technological impossiblity. Many of his sound bites seem to come from a place of right-winged nuttiness, and he loves to juxtapose his aura of king of the box office and technical genius with zany self-actualized underwater enthusiast cult leader. His motto seems to be, “If I can’t do, I’ll invent, and if you won’t help me, I’ll piss on your grave.” It’s a finely maintained image, one that comes through in just about any press on the man, and I’m completely confident in saying that it’s an outright manufactured lie.

Oh, I’m sure part of it is true. He is clearly a very difficult person to work for, and his dedication to absolute perfection is legendary among those who have survived his movies. I’m also sure the image of a military commander suits his obviously outsized ego, but his over-the-top macho posturing is indicative of a deep-seated insecurity with his masculinity. Of course, the best indicator of this insecurity is evident in the stories he chooses to tell. Cameron is well-known for creating movies that feature at their center strong female characters. The common thread in all of his movies is fragile male ego being manipulated or even controlled by strong women. Sarah Connor becomes a warrior queen who must protect her fragile child from ruthless assassins (a child who though weak as a boy is destined to become mankind’s savior?). Ellen Ripley overcomes dangerous male posturing among space marines and saves a fragile child (a girl, but a not particularly effeminate girl) from an alien queen (herself a badass mother figure). In The Abyss, Ed Harris’ character Bud Brigman poses as a strong leader of the crew of misogynistic roughnecks, but is completely destabilized by the appearance of his tough-minded ex-wife, then is reduced to a quivering mama’s boy who literally holds hands with a nurturing undersea creature who is shaped like a woman’s reproductive system. In True Lies, even the ultimate man’s man, Arnold Schwarzenegger, who plays the cigar-chomping machine-gunning action hero better than anyone, has his confidence shattered when his wife decides to seize her life by the horns and considers an affair with another man. The movie is about Cameron himself, how he paints a picture of being an in-control badass and yet is completely susceptible to this whims of the strong-willed women he finds himself hopelessly attracted to.

It might appear I’ve gone off track here, but bear with me. I, like most people who salivated over any news of what would be Cameron’s first foray into an action film since 1994, was shocked at what I was seeing in Avatar. The character design, production artwork, and storyline all looked weak, like a watered-down version of fern gully mixed with a cheap videogame plotline. The visuals looked like a silly children’s cartoon. Visions of George Lucas’ Episode 1 betrayal danced in our collective heads. Even glowing early reactions from people who had seen the 3-D technology at work couldn’t sway us. Cameron was over the hill. He had lost his touch. The movie would inevitably suck.

It was around that time that I saw the 20 minute 3D preview for myself. It was a crack in the wall, and a ray of sunlight streamed through. Sure, the dialogue was schlocky and the acting stilted. But I couldn’t deny, it was gorgeous to look at. One scene even felt extremely light and, dare I say…fun? That was when I went back and re-watched the Cameron films in my possession, and began to notice the most common running theme in his films. Sensitivity. If Michael Bay is the ultimate macho filmmaker, a visual and auditory rapist with no sense of balance or grace or restraint, perfectly willing to bash you over the head until you submit to his will, then Cameron is the sensitive mother of the action sci fi world. He wants to tell you it will all be alright, that you’re all special in your own way. He reinforces your humanity, and tells you it’s okay to cry sometimes. He knows when to lighten the mood, when to make it scary, and when to just let the strings swell and the Hollywood feel-good to come raining down from on high. In fact, he’s consistently shown himself to be one of the most skilled movie craftsman on the planet, able to mix emotional storytelling with awe-inspiring technical wizardry.

Viewed through that lens, Avatar starts to look less like a cheesy sci-fi action movie and more like an epic fable told using new technology in a way that few have properly experienced. And if Cameron wants to shelter his insecurity by boasting about how many guns there are or how badass the native girl’s tits move when animated, so be it. I know his secret now. He just wants mom to come in, and pull the blanket up to his chin, and tell him it’s all going to be okay. His movies speak to a generation of men raised by fathers who, for the first time in history, have been pressured by society to be kinder, gentler, and more in touch with their feminine sides. If he needs 3 hours and 400 million dollars to tell that story, so be it. He’s still the best at making this kind of movie, and I for one will trust him to do it. That’s why I’m excited to see Avatar.

That fun James Brown church scene in Blues Brothers becomes a lot more tragic when you realize how much cocaine it must have taken for John Belushi to dance that hard.

Stephen Falk: Norrywood

The annual hideous Christmas display on 3rd St. near Larchmont at the home of the multiple (currently be-Christmas-suited) naked man-statues and black Santas has taken on a mysterious self-promoting angle with the inclusion of a figure of a man (Norry?) making the Jay-Z/diamond/gang/vagina (though I doubt it in this case) hand-sign, replete with lettering reading “Norrywood.”

Norrywood is my favorite L.A. landmark.

I have to admit, for a genocidal murderer, Hermann Göring (front row, far left, giving Joachim von Ribbentrop a white-hot set of fuck-me eyes) had a pretty badass evil-villain fashion sense. Perhaps he simply knew he had no chance of beating the four charges and just decided to dress the part? Ballsy. Also digging the Dr. Strangelove glasses (perhaps they inspired the look in the later film?) worn by Baldur von Schirach in the back. Oh well, hope all these Nazi fucks are burning in the christian version of hell to which they are ascribed to have believed in. (via)

Wreckx-n-Effect - Rump Shaker

It’s shaping up to be a rump-shaking kind of day over here in sunny Los Angeles (cue the IRS audit notice), so turn this shit up and shake that fucking rump.

“I like the way you comb your hair (UH!) I like the stylish clothes you wear (UH!) it’s just the little things you do (UH!) that make me wanna get with you”

Georgia: We’re on the front page of the New York Times Style section.  My mind is blown by the whole thing. We’re also in talks with Food Network to host our own show.  Life is crazy, no?

I’m going to be honest with you, internet. Seeing “Mr. Atencio” in the New York Times this morning made me feel like a robber baron (I mentally associate the NYT with old money. Old, racist, money). So I think today’s agenda just went from “call my mother and drive around L.A. to find a newsstand so I can buy some copies of the paper” to “call my mother and exploit an indigenous race.” That’s right, you better watch out…uh…*checks google* Hantiwi Tribe of the lower hot springs valley, because my name in the bottom paragraph of a NYT article is making me feel like a MEAN OLD WHITE MAN.

And yes, this awesome, and I wouldn’t be in the paper at all without Alie and Georgia. So thank you girls, for asking me to be a part of this, and for letting me be your video pimp.

\\Wednesday Nights (Photo by Dirty Preston)

An amazing / tragic post that sums up the naughties quite nicely. (via Jason Woliner)

waxandmilk:

Stella Artois and The Auteurs presents Le Recyclage De Luxe Online Film Festival: featuring 7 essential French New Wave films, for free, this week (Dec. 15th - 21st)

More info here: http://www.theauteurs.com/stellaartois

Dan Harmon kills it.