Sunday, December 16, 2007

That Man Smith

Will: Hey, you know what, you ain't got to do nothing, Uncle Phil. You know, ain't like I'm still five years old, you know? Ain't like I'm gonna be sitting every night asking my mom 'when's daddy coming home?' You know? Who needs him? Hey, he wasn't there to teach me how to shoot my first basket, but I learned it, didn't I? And I got pretty damn good at it too, didn't I, Uncle Phil?
Uncle Phil: Yeah, you did.

Will: Got to do my first date without him, right? I learned how to ride, I learned how to shave, I learned how to fight without him. I had *fourteen* great birthdays without him; he never even sent me a damn card. The hell with him!
[pause]
Will: I didn't need him then, I won't need him now.

Uncle Phil: Will...

Will: No, you know what, Uncle Phil? I'm gonna get through college without him, I'm gonna get a great job without him, I'm gonna marry me a beautiful honey and I'm having a whole bunch of kids. I'm gonna be a better father than he ever was. And I sure as hell don't need him for that, 'cause there ain't a damn thing he can teach me about how to love my kids!
[long pause; he's crying] How come he don't want me, man?

Most of the readers that frequent this website would be correct if they recognised this as a mere splinter of an excerpt from an episode of the fantastic show, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, (which everybody must have seen at some point or the other). More than just a little snippet from the world of Will, Carlton, Uncle Phil, Hilary, Geoffrey et al, this little segment encapsulated Willard Smith's pedigree as an actor (to that point at least). Sure, he could be the "funny guy" and cause people to have crippling chest problems (a theory that Luke and Garf will definitely corroborate) with the sheer hilarity of his antics and timing. But this little vignette had nothing to do with his comic timing or facial flexibility. To me, it had a lot more to do with his versatility, in that he could make you cry seconds after having you in fits of laughter.

Over the year
s he acted in some films and critics unkindly branded him as a one-trick pony, claiming at times that he would often project himself as far bigger than the movie itself. It is speculated that it is for this very reason that he didn't get to be Neo in The Matrix. In retrospect, it's probably best that Keanu Reeves got that role. Regardless, Smith took on a variety of films, playing different types of characters and yet, the criticism continued. It is only after The Pursuit of Happyness (arguably) that I believe he began to amass critical acclaim.

Shocking, non?

After all, this man was able to pull off roles with a plethora of co-actors, human and non-human and still generate some ridiculously top-notch chemistry with them all. The list is truly mind-boggling:

- With a DJ, a fat man and a short man
- With an accomplished actor like Gene Hackman
- With a skilled comedian like Jeff Goldblum
- With the com
puter generated robot, Sonny
- With a child
- And now most recently, with a dog

It is the latter that forms the basis for this particular piece, after a rather long-winded diatribe. Even by my lofty standards *chortle chortle*. I saw the film I am Legend today and to be honest, all I had heard about the film was that a number of people I know wanted to see it and it was about the last man on Earth, it was supposed to be quite good and that it had that man Smith in it. That's all. This morning I read a savagely cynical review and on a whim, perhaps even goaded by the review, I decided to go and watch it for myself.

Directed by Francis Lawrence of Constantine fame and screenplayed (if such a verb doesn't indeed exist and if it doesn't, then I'm MAKING it exist) by the brilliant Akiva Goldsman... Not too bad so far. The Richard Matheson-authored book by the same name has been adapted to film four times in the past, I'm told and the latest was supposed to be in 2002 with Micheal Bay directing it. Instead, he chose to make Bad Boys II. Prior to this, Ridley Scott was expected to direct the film starring Arnold, but it went over-budget.

Enter Mr Smith.

The film can be described as a slow-burner, if and only if you feel compelled to classify and pigeon-hole everything. The scale is nothing short of epic, with what seems like most of Manhattan at the director's mercy for filming purposes. What really shines isn't the special FX or the aforementioned grandeur of scale. While being competent, it isn't even the plot that shines. Consistent with the subject of this post, it's Will Smith who lays down a devastatingly touching portrayal of a scientist/army colonel, who battles the loss of human companionship, security and even sanity to find a cure for this cannibal/zombie virus hoo-ha. That's what really shines.

One of the best things about the film I found (surprising, considering my love for post-apocalyptic universes in sci-fi stories) was the fact that most of the film is set on beautiful sunny days in a completely empty city. I have never seen that aspect used in any film to this date.

NOTE: To all nitpickers and those with too much time on their hands and an innate urge to try and make a point (irrespectiv
e of whether or not it is accurate), I'm sure there've been films in the past that used this idea. However, I've never seen it in any film I've seen before. Ya dig?

Over the course of the one and half or so hours, I found my favourite scenes to be the ones that had the least to do with the actual story/plot. These are the scenes where he depicts his own character growth as the film progresses. From a dinner table scene with his dog to the "I like Shrek" scene later on in the film, these are the gems that really shine brightest in the gleaming box of jewels that is I am Legend.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that it is highly unlikely that one will ever see Will Smith in an overly arty or "intellectual" (note the sarcasm) flick. And maybe his films aren't everyone's cup of tea (enjoy your new-wave French cinema, by all means do). But in terms of satisfying films that leave you walking out of the cinema with a thought in your head, a smile on your face and perhaps even new catchphrases on your lips, you can't beat the man's work. Empathy with the character being portrayed and trying to relate to him has never been a problem with Smith's films. Now it's got to the point where it's nigh on impossible not to relate to his characters. You'd have to be really really really detached to do so. And where's the fun in that?

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Disco Sucks, Fuck Everything

What's the point of going on?
Overlooked for the overrated
But we wont hear that talk
Frustration, frustration is all we get
You might think we're finished
We haven't started yet.
Because there's more far more to know
Because our voices must say more
Because these words come fro
m the soul.
This is not a mission
This is not a fucking game.
A burning desire from deep inside
The will, the drive, to keep pushing on.
No matter what may come
No matter what may come.
Hollow trends
Shallow lives

They drag you down.
They try to drag you down
They'll drag you down.
For every hurdle cleared, two takes its place.
For every level reached, they raise the stakes.
What is our inspiration? What is our drive?
To chose our destiny and be in control of our lives.
This is not an image, This is our lives.
This is our inspiration, this is our lives
This is not an image, This is our lives.
This is our inspiration, this is our lives

These would be the lyrics to the song Disco Sucks, Fuck Everything by Sick of it All, a band I greatly admire and respect and the picture depicts guitarist Pete Koller in full flight during what was no doubt a rabid show with singer Lou Koller half in shot. I know for a fact that my man, JB will appreciate this reference (JB being Jonjo; being revealed as I don't really enjoy dealing in any abbreviation for a name except my own and of course, AJG) . Our second set of lyrics comes from the seminal (in my opinion at least; to hell with the doubters) ska-punk band Goldfinger:

What happened to dignity
Did it go away again?

Just like a worn out trend?

Will I still defend emotions?

What happened to honesty?

I don't see it on the Top Ten
I only see it in what has been
Cuz' I still defend devotion

Am I alone?
Don't wanna rest
I don't wanna breathe

When I wanna hear about life

Don't wanna hear a spokesman
I don't wanna test I want to believe
The Goddam
n singer wrote the song
Don't wanna hear a spokesman

What happened to integrity
I don't see it on MTV
All I see is choreography
And I'll never be a dancer

What happened to puberty?
Bad skin and insecurity?
And who the fuck is Felicity?
'Cuz I got problems of my own
Am I alone?

Obviously, the full length song entails a refrain of the chorus and stuff, but that shouldn't detract from the lyrics or the fact that this band was responsible in a huge way for setting me on my path to vegetarianism. RE: Show in Sheffield where they signed everything given to them, including copies of a CD containing their song Free Me to some horrific visuals of animals being slaughtered. But I digress...

What is it exactly that the two songs' lyrics have in common? Let me help you out; not a whole heap. Instead they refer more to my state of mind today when I went to someplace to which I don't belong, have never belonged and will never belong. These songs struck so many chords with me during my entire time at said place that I finally accepted one tiny thing — I am NOT averse to change, but change is something I will only allow myself to entertain IF I am ready. And as sure as I am that grass is green and sycophants are morons, I am sure that I am NOT ready to dance like a moron at a blooming ball of all things.

Being called a musical fascist is de rigeuer (regular readers will recognise my fondness for the phrase) for someone as horrifically possessive about his/her music and vehement about his/her love for it as I am. Sure, there are tons of people who can enjoy all sorts of music. I am not one of them and of this fact I am immensely proud. Certain circumstances beyond my control brought me to an avenue and arena where I could appreciate music that kicks me in the teeth and now, ten years on, I love it to death.

That fact and certain other realisations make me feel like an absolute moron for having inflicted this moronic ball upon myself. On a different, yet oddly related note, I bring this unashamedly pointless rant to a close by saying, "Just as every film comes to a close with its final flickering images; just as every song winds down and phases out with its last guitar whine and just as every trend dies a painful death with its purveyors branded as "so last year", so too is this the very end and the very last time." You know who you are.