For nostalgia’s sake, I thought I’d post some highlights from this past weekend. 

Pre-teen melodies and melodrama

I can’t remember if the drive back from the Sarasota Medieval Festival was the first time I had heard Oasis. But I do remember sitting in the back seat of Mrs. Idelson’s car, staring down at my wax hand mold, hardened into the shape of a peace sign and crumbling at the base. And “Wonderwall” was playing. 

I can’t remember if “1979″ by The Smashing Pumpkins reminded me of my babysitter because she was born in 1979, or if she reminded me of the song because I had just listened to it on a cassette tape in her car. But I do remember staring up at the telephone lines as we rolled down the street towards my neighborhood, filing through all her other tapes in a large bin. “Kids in America” was written in green pen on one.

I can’t remember sneaking into Romeo + Juliet, or if we chickened out at the last minute. But I do remember buying The Cardigans’ First Band on the Moon album the day after I saw it, and bringing it into art class, we were making paper mache that week, and one boy named Jerry asked to sit next to me. “The only guy for me is Leonardo Dicaprio,” I responded.  

I can’t remember why we called each other names on the basketball court at P.E. or stopped being friends, but I do remember singing “Killing Me Softly” by The Fugees in drama class before everything fell to pieces, while we sat in the entrance to the theater, on that cold floor, in Airwalks, plaid skirts and baby tees, in the land before time, as pre-teens, when we had grown up on backyard birthday parties, swimming pools, and jelly shoes, just before we all grew up, and I left.

Acoustic Monday

 

Monster mash

I know it’s nearing the end of October, and the only horror-esque post I wrote this year had to do with Rob Zombie and carnies, and, if you include my review on Where the Wild Things Are, I guess. So, I’ve compiled a playlist of songs that put me in the Halloween mood. I call it:

1. Mr. Sandman – The Chordettes
2. Zombie – The Cranberries
3. Hells Bells – AC/DC
4. Little Red Riding Hood – The Animals
5. Don’t Fear the Reaper  - Blue Oyster Cult
6. Bullet With Butterfly Wings – Smashing Pumpkins
7. The Killing Moon – Echo & The Bunnyman
8. Ghostbusters Theme – Ray Parker, Jr. 
9. Running With the Devil – Van Halen
10. Thriller – Michael Jackson
11. White Rabbit – Jefferson Airplane
12. Love Hurts – Nazareth
13. Bang, Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) – Nancy Sinatra

Where you’ll find me

This past weekend, I went to the IMAX at Navy Pier to see Spike Jonze’s Where The Wild Things Are. (Check out this cool site, “We Love You So” for the eyes and inspiration behind and ahead of the film.) Navy Pier in itself is a whimsical child’s fantasy, with a long boardwalk facing the lake, a giant 150 foot ferris wheel overlooking downtown, a carousal, and a colorful wave swinger.  It is one of my favorite places in the city. But, onto more serious topics. 

…Because Wild Things is really nothing to be taken lightly. What we all have inside of us, is a kid. It’s acted out in different ways, through the toys we collect, the board games we play, the way we dance and skip and hop, chuckle, serenade, and marvel. And it’s also found in the things we fear the most, our silence, the small things we yearn for, the distinct smells we fumble over—like Thanksgiving dinner, or sun block, or fresh laundry. When we are sentimental, we are tripping through a thorny forest, thick with foliage, and maybe we’re running to catch up with whatever sentimental things we are chasing after. 

Where The Wild Things Are is that forest—it’s that island we go to from time to time, but it isn’t sappy. It’s far away, and it’s impeccably sad. But it’s what we needed. I haven’t been affected by a film in such a specific way since I first saw The Neverending Story, or maybe Hook. And it’s for all the same reasons. Peter Pan grew up and forgot about Neverland. The Swamp of Sadness took Atreyu’s horse, Artax, while he was battling to stop “The Nothing” from taking over…everything. 

What I recommend: go see this film, tell me you loved Bob and Terry the owls just as much as I did, swoon over Karen O. and her musical splendor, feel like Max, empathize with Alexander the goat, stir through your emotions, you won’t have much of a choice either way; go home and do what I decided to do: build a fort, and imagine yourself sitting there with ewoks and falkors, and Carol. Run away, explore and make believe, but always, always come back to yourself.

The Hallway

My non-friend, friend, Chris, whom refers to himself as a “Duckie” (i.e. Pretty In Pink) recently shared this insanely amazing link with me. Miranda July is a writer, director, musician, and performance artist, just to name a few of her titles. She inspires me to be creative, and if that doesn’t sound like an acceptance speech at a middle school awards assembly, I don’t know what does. She is subtle, abrasive, fragile, crushing, poetic, raw, and oh!…talented! Her art installation, “The Hallway” was featured at the 2008 International Triennale of Contemporary Art in Yokohama, Japan. It was 125 feet of all of the things we come to fear in life: decisions, connections, trusting other people, trusting ourselves, getting lost, being figured out, coming to terms with things. There are random and disconnected thoughts that sprout up, that only highlight the way certain things happen in life that don’t make sense, and never quite disappear—reappearing when we least expect them to, or want them to, an elephant in the room that nags at us until we accept that life is just not supposed to make sense. We are all stuck in our own long halls, afraid at first to be encased in it, and then so numbingly comforted by its walls, that we never want to leave, but we have to.

One more silver dollar

I was driving down a dark mountain road the other night and started thinking about Rob Zombie. It might have been the confederate flags planted sporadically on the edges of dirt driveways, the lone rusted truck filled with overgrown foliage, the smell of hickory, and the reoccurring thought that a nightgown clad woman with blood on her hands and a wild look in her eye could come stumbling out into the foggy road at any turn of the bend.

It’s also October, and I was also listening to “Don’t Fear the Reaper” on the radio. This isn’t to say I’m excited about Halloween. But I do love a good horror film…even a bad one. And Rob Zombie films settle somewhere in the middle. When I first saw House of 1000 Corpses when it hit theaters in 2003, I think I walked out before it ended because I felt so sick to my stomach. It was gory, sadistic, and dirt-under-your-fingernails dirty. Then, in 2005, Zombie released its sequel, The Devil’s Rejects. And for some reason, even though it was equally gory and grimy, I actually enjoyed it — rather, saw something in Zombie’s style that I appreciated. He knows horror. 

Both films revolve around a family that terrorizes unsuspecting victims. Picture driving through a backwater town in the middle of the night, and having to stop at a gas station. Maybe an inbred looking child is roaming around in the dusty road on a creaky tricycle. That didn’t happen in either of the films. In Corpses, a couple of teenagers go in search of the legendary “Dr. Satan” and are led through a carnival like madness with Captain Spaulding (Sid Haig), who has painted his face with caked on clown makeup. They meet “Baby” (Sheri Moon Zombie) who angelically leads them back to her house. There, they meet the rest of her family, the Fireflies, and thus begins the bloody terror. In the sequel, The Devil’s Rejects, police ambush the Firefly home and “Mother Firefly” is taken into custody, a few other guys in the family are shot down, and Baby and Otis (Bill Moseley) flee the scene. The go to a motel where they torture more victims. 

It’s assumed that both films take place in the 1970s. The soundtracks to both films are incredibly on point and spine tingling when paired with the zany, cackling characters and their fits of rage. The Devil’s Rejects opens with an appropriate “Midnight Rider” by The Allman Brothers, which sets the mood for the entire feel of the film, a happy-go-lucky “Shambala” by Three Dog Night, James Gang’s “Funk #49″, and a haunting “Free Bird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd in its final scene. 

What Zombie creates is visceral and raw. His films give off a documentary style with choppy camera action. It’s off-beat and campy, and that’s cinematic brilliance. Maybe it’s all morbid and cliche, but if you don’t go to a carnival, smell the funnel cake and cotton candy, and hear some Joe Walsh, it’s like its un-American to be going on a ferris wheel.  And a Rob Zombie film is as American as apple pie.

Thirteen

"Won't you let me walk you home from school?

won't you let me meet you at the pool? 

maybe Friday I can get tickets for the dance, 

and i'll take you.

won't you tell your dad, "get off my back"?

tell him what we said about "Paint it Black." 

rock 'n roll is here to stay 

come inside where it's okay,

and i'll shake you.

won't you tell me what you're thinking of? 

would you be an outlaw for my love?

if it's so, well, let me know

if it's "no", well, I can go, 

I won't make you."

“Thirteen” was written by Alex Chilton and Chris Bell of Big Star. It’s featured on their 1972 album, #1 Record. They’re considered a cult act by those who followed them throughout the the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s, a mix of indie folk rock and remnants of British pop. Bill Janovitz, the singer and guitarist of one of my favorite bands, Buffalo Tom, wrote a review on Big Star for Allmusic, saying, “There are few songs that capture the aching innocence of adolescence….and fewer that are as pretty as this song.” 

In an interview with Rolling Stone, Chilton admitted that the only cover of “Thirteen” that he has enjoyed was Garbage’s version. Other artists who have covered “Thirteen” include: Evan Dando of The Lemonheads, Kind of Like Spitting, Elliott Smith, and Wilco. 

Way up to Mars

Okay. One more thing on Adventureland. The soundtrack/song tracks played throughout the film is incredible with some main stream hits like “Obsession” by Animotion, “Rock Me Amadeous” by Falco (as previously mentioned), Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again”, “Point of No Return” by Expose, “Your Love” by Outfield and “Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House.

And it has its share of more obscure songs like “Tops” off the Tattoo You album by The Rolling Stones, The Velvet Underground’s “Here She Comes Now”,  Lou Reed’s “Satellite of Love”, “Taste of Cindy” by  The Jesus & Mary Chain, and “I’m in Love With a Girl” by Big Star, off the album, Radio City. 

Also, notably, during a bumper car scene after everyone eats pot cookies, a huge portion of my favorite Cure song, “Just Like Heaven” is played. Major kudos. “Pale Blue Eyes” by The Velvet Underground is used in a scene when Em (Kristen Stewart) is driving with James (Jessie Eisenberg), and “Satellite of Love” by Lou Reed, paired off with the colorful lights and movement of the carnival like atmosphere, serves as a key point in the plot of the film itself. 

Other period films with a great soundtrack and gritty suburban undertones: Almost Famous (2000), American Graffiti (1973), The Virgin Suicides (1999), Juno (2007), Running With Scissors (2006), and Wet Hot American Summer (2001).

Satin lives.

I watched Adventureland the other night, a 2009 film directed by Greg Mottola. The setting is undeniably 1980s, but it’s not the over-the-top ’80s back-splash you might expect. In other words, it’s not a scene out of an ’80s party you go to in a college dorm room, where girls are wearing Flashdance t-shirts and neon spandex and the guys are in popped collared polos. It’s deeper than that. It’s grimier. Grimy ’80s. Lou Reed. David Bowie. Worn out t-shirts. Corn dogs. 

It’s the summer of 1987 and James (Jessie Eisenberg) needs a summer job to pay his way to New York, so he starts working as a “Games Guy” at the local amusement park called Adventureland. He’s hired by a pair of managers in acid wash jean shorts, whom may or may not be a couple, but have a strange power-struggle relationship, and the guy manager, Bobby, has a mustache that could be its own character. The games at the park are all rigged — Fedora hats are glued to the heads of mannequins, the basketball hoops are oval shaped….you might leave the park feeling like a winner, but you’ll never score a giant ass Panda bear.

James meets Joel (Mark Miller), a boy with greasy black hair and glasses, Frigo, a kid who makes his own t-shirts, and Em (Kristen Stewart), whom  is secretly involved with “Connell” (Ryan Reynolds), a shady older guy who carouses the park with his guitar and woos girls over with his questionable rock musician stories. He’s married to a girl who works at “Razz-Ma-Tazz”, a dance club in town. Em has really had it with Connell’s ways, but you can tell she’s guarded against guys and likes to play by her own rules. Her dad is oblivious to her, and her step mom wears a wig, a fabulous shaggy feathered number that reminds me of Lee Purcell’s character, Beth, in Valley Girl. A few days into the summer, Lisa P. arrives at Adventureland, a girl who operates the rides, and dances around in her high waisted skinny jeans to “Rock Me Amadeus” by Falco. 

James hates that song. But he’s less interested in the likes of Lisa P. and more into Em. She has that mysterious appeal that makes him wanting more. He also has a huge stash of pot his friend left him for the summer, and she’s willing to make pot cookies. They hit it off great, but Em doesn’t want anything serious – and tells James to cool it a little. He doesn’t know about her and Connell. As the story unravels, so do all of the secrets, and inevitably, this leads James to take Lisa P. out on a fancy date to “The Velvet Touch,” a nice restaurant in town. Lisa P. always chews gum, which is reminiscent of one of the counselor characters from one of my favorite films, Wet Hot American Summer. She isn’t completely dense, even though she has enough Aqua Net in her hair to kill the ozone. But, when James tells her that Em and Connell are sneaking around — Lisa P. tells everyone. Em quits. Connell’s wife divorces him. The summer ends. James crashes his car, but takes a bus to New York anyway, desperate for Em’s forgiveness. What do you think happens? 

But this movie is obviously not about on my list of favorites for its predictable plot. Coming of age, summer romance/friendship films always end the same way. You feel relieved and sad all at once. What drives this movie are the aesthetics: the oversized walkee talkees, one guy Pete’s morning invite to take Lisa P. to a Judas Priest concert, the kid with the drum sticks who sings a Rush song to Em but forgets the lyrics, payphones and landlines, beater cars, and Joel’s little brother in tube socks mowing the backyard. 

The guy who misspells Satan and writes “Satin Lives” in spray paint on the wall of the park, is just as important as Sue, the girl who tells Joel she can’t go out with him because he’s Jewish, or when Lisa P. confides in James about her broken home life. Maybe when Em says, “I don’t want to lose you,” we sigh and know for sure that we’ve said that once or twice to someone. And maybe we know for a fact that Connell and guys like Connell will always be hanging around the park to retell the same Lou Reed stories to young girls. This movie isn’t trying to dress anything up and wrap it in a box. It’s just the blink of an eye, a summer in your life, when you were standing outside with friends, just trying to figure out what to do and where to go.