I'm an idiot.
Not all of the time.
Just some of the time.
You see, last night before I went to sleep I was reading an article on the game Slender. It's a free-to-download PC game that has the player running around a park at night collecting pages of a book, avoiding the titular Slender Man, a meme that plays on our fear of the unknown and undefined. You look at him too much and you die. That's it. Sounds simple, right? It sure does, but according to almost all who have played it, it is supposed to be pants-fillingly terrifying. Something about the premise, setting and execution have made a simple yet disturbing game. Needless to say I'm stoked for it. It's sitting on my desktop but I'm waiting for Halloween. Or at the least, the month of October. My terror induced diarrhea must be timely.
That's not why I'm an idiot, though. At least, not this time.
No, the thing was that in the article was a link to this video from a series of YouTube clips about...something. I don't even know, really. However, that short clip was so effective in its use of framing timing that I was unnerved to the point of continuing anxiety. I had to put it out of my mind to sleep last night, and all during my run (in the dark, natch) this morning I would get these bolts of memory that would jar me and I honestly found myself looking back over my shoulder just...because...you know?
Look, I'm no scientist. But! I majored in Logic and Philosophy in college. I spend most of my brain power working out the rules and systems of the world around me. When given a game to play, I love looking for ways to break the system, to test the boundaries of a pre-established world. That we, as a species, have worked out the cosmos from the multiverse down to subatomic particles astounds me and makes me marvel at being alive. But I don't believe in the supernatural. I know a few people reading this will be disheartened to hear that as much as I love Mysterious Universe, I don't think of it as a journalistic endeavor - it's more a source of entertainment. Much of my ability to deal with the horrors of the world and the cruelty of fate stems from the cold, hard logic of science and how cause and effect operate, coupled with a good ol' dose of Chaos Theory. There's a lot of math I don't understand, but even cats can use an iPad even if they'll never build one.
The point is - I know this stuff is pure, Grade A baloney. Noises in my house are the house settling or creaking in the wind or my cat being a little unhinged. No one chases me during my run except my thoughts and the local rabbits. Despite knowing these things...I still get the creeps. The willies. That little tingle up the spine that lingers from an evolutionary holdover in which was originally supposed to warn of large animals watching from the bushes.
I'm not saying there's not danger in the world. Of course there is. Cancer. Car accidents. Random acts of violence. Super volcanoes. But I only control my own self and how I react to things. So why can't I control getting creeped out by stuff like that video late at night? Why do I love to torture myself, especially non-stop in October? Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I like to pretend there's more out there. See how the other half lives. Who knows.
I'll just glance over my shoulder every now and then to be sure.
I had a revelation this morning.
The past two nights have afforded me something quite rare and unusual - an uninterrupted hour, each night, with which I was able to indulge my fading passion for video games. That may not sound like such an occurrence, but it actually has given me quite a bit of insight into my behavior and tendencies as a gamer as I've gotten older. What I've realized, on further reflection, is that I am quite the outdated dinosaur when it comes to games. Allow me to explain.
I'm not ready for the retirement home, but I'm no spring chicken, either. The closer I edge to the big 3-0, the more I realize (thanks to steady employment and scrupulous saving) that time, not money, is the commodity now. I could buy a game or console on launch day, sure, but when would I ever have time to play it? I'm up before six, not home from the office until six at night, and in bed by ten. If you account for cooking (yes, that is possible and actually necessary for good health) and running, let alone the things necessary for the next day like doing dishes and laundry and cleaning the cat box, there's so little time that I find it amazing I get anything done at all. I don't even have kids. I want to enjoy the evening with my better half. Sure, I could pull a late night marathon session, but at this point in my life I'd rather be well rested than at the next level, of which only I would care.
Which brings me to my next point - I am absolutely of the old guard when it comes to gaming. I have taken my 360 (which I only purchased in 2010) online once. That single foray into online gaming wasn't even to play with others - it was to update the console and download a game. That game? An re-working of the decade old N64 choking Perfect Dark. It barely ran on that old system, now it looks fantastic when running at 1080p and 60 fps. I don't want to play with a bunch of people who are online incessantly, insanely better than me and more likely than not to spend the entire time belittling me with xenophobic slurs. Why should I put up with that? The games I play are completely solo endeavors, as is the nature of the experience. My preferred experience is a huge TV in a darkened room with some headphones, and maybe a glass of wine to steady the nerves. The games I'm playing hardly have any mutli-player of which to play. Other people would just take me out of the moment.
Not only am I an isolated gamer, I can't play for very long anymore, these days. I remember a sleepless series of nights in college while I waited to have a root canal dealt with. I coped with insomnia by working my way through Resident Evil 2, front to back in all permutations of the plot. If that happened now, I'd be risking my job by coming in as a sleepwalker. The most I can sit and play is an hour. After that, my joints start to hurt and my eyes burn. I either have to take a break and walk around or just call it quits for the night. At this point in my life I feel like gaming is such an indulgence that more than an hour or two a week is time that could be better spent writing, reading, cooking, cleaning, running. Really, the guilt accumulates just as the saved games do.
On top of this is the recent realization that I have moral quandaries about the games I play. I want nothing to do with pretending to be a soldier in the midst of a horrible war. I don't want to inflict pain or cruelty onto others unless the game requires it to progress. Life is hard and nasty enough, I don't want my downtime filled with unsettling moral choices and wanton destruction. Sounds pretentious, I know, but I prefer games that tell a story and have a reason for the madness, not mindless 'point and shoot'. Bioshock had an amazing story and surreal artwork to bolster the experience. Arkham Asylum let me indulge my childhood obsession with Batman delivering justice. Alan Wake was a spooky trip through a world quite similar to Twin Peaks. I recall playing Dead Rising and feeling kind of exhausted and wrung out after the despair and death in that game, just from the first hour or so. I love it, but more for the Romero-esque fantasy than seeing the imagery. Forget Call of Duty. Give me a story.
Realizing I'm not a modern gamer has helped me reconcile my fading habit with my current life. I don't mind not being as culturally relevant as I used to. The industry is a juggernaut. It's more a realization that my tastes and habits are changing, ever so slightly, in ways that I only occasionally pick up on. I would have thought that this would make me sad to see, that not gaming as much meant I was getting old and stiff and boring. Instead, I love who I am more and more, I just appreciate my time and what I do with it more. Time is the commodity. I'm not going to make anyone watch me play a a game any more than I would make them watch a movie they can't stand. It's all much more personal for me, as a result. I get a personal, private adventure. The scarcity makes it all the more memorable.
These things have a way of bleeding into each other.
It's been a fun weekend. As much as I enjoy parties, especially holiday ones with special drinks, I had just as much fun doing errands with my better half. Somehow we always get lost in Target and end up wandering around looking for something we've passed. It's like a casino in there - shiny stuff everywhere, tons of other weirdos and no clocks or visible exits. As I write this, the melted snow and ice are slowly re-freezing. I'm not looking forward to the drive tomorrow. It's nice and dark and quiet here. It makes me want to go and re-experience Outside the Box.
Outside the Box is one of my favorite not-so-secret things on the internet. An online flash comic (wait, please stay with me for this) created by Brendan Cahill, Outside the Box is a great way to spend a quiet night. Cahill, hailing from San Francisco created the strip/site/flashthing back in 2002, with the first run closing out in 2004. A one shot and second run followed in the ensuing years. It's not a strict re-paneling like some of Marvel's online content, or single page, three panel affairs like Penny Arcade or The Oatmeal. Box is a moving, vibrant noir tale that just has this unassuming but totally surprising edge to it.
Telling the tale of office drone Jamie Black as he gets caught up in the world of private detectives and mobsters and the recently deceased, Box is a solid story told in an original format. It could work as a traditional format, but the way Cahill took advantage of the limited movement gives a whole added layer of context and storytelling to this mystery. Subtle tricks like shadows moving or showing characters moving through blueprints add a cinematic aspect that would otherwise be lost on a conventional comic. Through the novel medium, we see Black slowly separate from his office job as he gets pulled deeper and deeper into the mystery unfolding around him.
A nice touch on Cahill's part was the inclusion of suggested soundtracks. More than a handful have been covered here, the usual trip hop and down tempo stuff, as well as more off the beaten path artists like Two Lone Swordsmen. Throw on some of your favorite sneaking, gumshoe-esque tunes and dive in to the motion comic. It really paid off in the end. While it may be old hand in internet parlance, it still makes for a fun, gripping ride.
Time for a lullaby, kids.
I'm spent. I had a busy, productive day at the office, followed by dinner out at my favorite restaurant (hi Fuji Ya!) and spent some time packing boxes. We're moving out of our first place together, into a bigger and better home. We're both excited, but are already feeling the pressure of condensing four years of life plus the recent wedding into boxes and a U-haul. It's fun, but draining. Exhilarating, but exhausting. Sleep is a blissful thing, but last night was only the restless kind that comes with unshakable concerns of the waking life. Sometimes you need a good lullaby to put you out. I love Obadiah Parker's cover of 'Hey Ya' by Outkast. Always does the trick.
For some, it might not be the most desired praise, to label a song as something to put you to sleep. In this case, I'd strongly disagree. The soothing, soulful singer-songwriter type, Parker (not his real name) made a name for himself online a few years back with this serene version of the frenetic dance track. He took what was already a phenomenal club song possessing an vintage flair for passion and dance-ability and flipped it inside out. Turns out the bones of Oukast's pop smash from the turn of the millennium is a great song from the core, not just studio finesse. Parker's version is just him and his guitar, softly strumming and singing the lyrics, which in this light become much more bittersweet and soul-baring. It's an amazing effect to see.
On a night you feel stressed, worn out or simply can't sleep, songs like these are a blessing. It's sweet and soothing, a beautiful rendition of a song that works as a dichotomous work. I love the original for its uncontrollable energy. I love this version for the warm towel it wraps around my mind. I think sometimes I can actually feel my pulse and blood pressure drop when I listen to it. Tell you what - you go download this song. I have to turn in for the night. No way can I keep my eyes open any longer. Drifting off.
Evening, gang.
If you're reading this, it's most likely Halloween where you are. I dig. I hope you're having as mega of a day as I am. I spent the previous day recapping the Saturday night hijinks, packing some boxes while watching spooky movies and opening a bottle of Cabernet to enjoy another Treehouse of Horror. Not bad, I have to say. My apartment has no kids, so no trick or treaters for me, to my dismay. I would have fun passing out candy. I would have fun with wine until I pass out, too, but that's not really a Halloween thing. I digress. This year I was a bull, my better half was a matador. Here's me:
Nice, right? Best of all - pretty darn cheap. Total cost? Five bones for the horns. All else was mine. Okay the leg warmers on my arms as hooves were courtesy of my better half.
So I've written up and down about Spooky Month. I loved it. It gave me a chance to indulge in my spooky side and share some awesome Halloweenish things with the wider world. There are, however, some things that slipped through the cracks. These are the posts I wrote prior to Spooky Month that would have been totally appropriate to cut and paste if I had been short on time and creativity. In no particular order, you should check out:
The Thing and I - a genuinely creepy Treehouse of Horror installment, all set at night in a storm.
Silent Hill 2 - the most terrifying game I've ever played. An emotional trip, to say the least. HD collections for PS3 and 360 due out in January.
Cloverfield - A modern Gojira, my favorite monster movie. It's a crazy post-modern take on terrorist events.
Zombies Ate My Neighbors - An underrated gem for the SNes. A love letter to B Movie madness.
Crimson - Beautifully dark album from the Alkaline Trio. Lush and pulsing punk music to set the mood.
MST3K - The best way to enjoy old B Movies. Snark galore. Laughs abound. Legendary.
Old Boy - Not a horror movie, per se. Still a dark, twisted trip to the most tormented depths of humanity. Yeah.
Silent Hill - My love for a flawed, but well-intentioned cinematic adaptation of the video game series.
You Were Always On My Mind - Getting severely caught off guard by a creepy soundtrack.
Grabbed by the Ghoulies - A forgotten gem from Rare. Super fun and full of simple frights!
Maniac Mansion - One of the first great haunted house games. Packed with point-and-click antics.
House of Leaves - Watch a book eat itself like a snake swallowing its own tail.
World War Z - The definitive record of humanity's war on zombie-kind. A sprawling, epic tome.
I Hear You Calling - A great video by the band Gob with homages to Thriller.
So that about sums it up. It's been a month of scares and jumps, noises in the vents and things lurking around the corner. Hit up the Spooky label on the side bar for more goodness. Otherwise, come November 1st it's back to business as usual here. I've had a blast this past month. Hopefully you have too. I'll try to do more large scale themes in the future. Christmas Conundrum, perhaps?
Spooky Month is about to get real, folks.
A movie like The Blair Witch Project could still scare you in the days before Google, Youtube and omnipresent irony. I remember reading bits and pieces about a supposed found-film piece of cinema that ended poorly. Being from a small town with barely functioning internet access, I only knew the essentials - college kids go wandering off in the woods, something bad finds them, they don't make it back. Only thing was, this time it wasn't so safe and fictional. The kids had been reported lost for quite some time. Their home made, hand-held shot movie was rumored to be melting faces and stopping hearts in art-house cinemas all over the country. I was totally intrigued. Then the cat got out of the bag.
The Blair Witch Project has become something of a punchline or shorthand for a common understanding of DIY aesthetic. That's really being too dismissive of a revolutionary thing, though. The truth of the matter is, even knowing that this movie was (spoilers, you dummy) a work of ingenious fiction, it was still damn scary. That seems to be the big secret that no one wants to acknowledge. We're all too cool and jaded and self-aware to be genuinely unnerved or swindled by any kind of momentum or legitimate feeling of connection. Instead we dismiss and say "Oh, that thing? Yeah, what a lame fake movie, right? Who ever bought into it?" Well, I totally did.
I only saw the bleak, doomed cinema verite affair after the fact. The summer it saw wide release was one full of movies you had to see as a teenager - South Park, The Sixth Sense, I think there was an American Pie in there, too. Maybe not. Sometimes those years blend together a bit. Anyway, the movie came and went in the theaters and I still hadn't seen it. So our local Blockbuster (back when that was a thing) had it on sale in the bargain bin (cat being out of the bag) I picked it up for less than five bones. I took the VHS (yeah, I know) home to my parent's new home in the woods, where I watched it all alone on a Sunday night, lights off, house lights outside reflecting off of the bare tree limbs of late October. I got my business thoroughly freaked out.
It may not be the coolest, most bad-ass thing to say, but I'll stand behind this weird little indie horror flick. It has this air of doom and despair permeating it. You knew going into it that the three plucky teenagers (no matter how obnoxious they could be) weren't going to come home. Something unseen was stalking them, to great affect for a solitary audience. The only way it could have gotten scarier for me was if I had to go orienteering alone in the woods that night. The manner in which the 'show-don't-tell' philosophy is employed here puts it in the same realm as Alien or Jaws. We are so much more terrified by the imagined, unperceived threat than a CGI money shot. Noises in the night stop the blood cold. Snarling beasts leaping at the screen, not so much. The cold air of fall and the empty trees create an unmistakable ambiance, the likes of which I haven't seen in any other horror flick since.
The Blair Witch Project brought us one step farther into our modern age of in-media-res production and (ugh) "reality" TV. That's the unfortunate legacy of a game changer. This movie was a refreshing novelty, one that deserves a better reputation than we've bestowed it. Turn the lights off and pick a quiet, solitary night. Watch this ground-breaking found-footage horror movie and tell me you're not the least bit affected by it. I'll be waiting in the heart of the metropolitan area with the lights on, far from the woods.
Maybe I'm full of it.
I wrote, in yesterday's post about White Zombie, that sometimes the Spooky Month music posts wouldn't all be about solitary, creeping experiences and ambient soundtracks. Today's post is absolutely that. Maybe not quite as solitary, but it definitely touches on the idea. But I'm stalling. On to business! Tonight - the soundtrack to Donnie Darko.
I, like many people, discovered Donnie Darko after the fact. Not quite as late as some, but I am pretty confident I was in that first or second wave of viewers, along with my college roommate Phil, who were tipped off about the movie. My friend Jimmy, an avid cinephile, made emphatic recommendations about it in late 2003, when it was finding its audience on DVD. We were part of the crowd that would have seen it in theaters were it not for the shelving of the film due to September 11th. When I was visiting my parents, I rented it and watched it in the dark of their quiet house, off in the woods of Wisconsin. It may have been the setting or my state of mind at the time, but I was deeply moved by the quiet little movie of mysteries. So I went back to my college apartment and made Phil watch the trailer. He was cautiously curious, having dealt with the brunt of my science-fiction and B-movie obsessions.
Being the good sport he was, he watched it when in the right frame of mind. And again. And again. We were hooked. We discussed the movie and its many layers, the deleted scenes, the hidden meanings and unintended messages in the movie. Being fall and in a very contemplative mood, I also procured the soundtrack whilst dinking around on the internet. Thus began a long series of autumn nighttime drives up and down the Mississippi River Boulevard, debating college-y concepts while listening to the spooky sounds of the Donnie Darko Soundtrack. These cool, rainy nights approaching Halloween are just a bit spookier and more mystical when listening to the haunting chords and piano melodies that scored the other-worldly film.
Written and arranged by Michael Andrews, the soundtrack is a minimalist, ambient affair (of course) that creates an ethereal air by eschewing typical instrumental dramatics by taking a few unusual routes. No guitars, no drums. Lots of piano and organ, some mellotron. Long, drawn out ideas that create musical landscapes to play inside instead of simply echoing what happens on the screen. Little snippets of electronic sounds and bells add a scare here or there. It's serene and unnerving at once, lulling you into a bizarre dream you find yourself questioning. I love having a big old pair of headphones on and letting this soundtrack shape my thoughts while I write or take a walk through the leaves. Of course, that was less of a risk for getting mugged when I lived in residential St. Paul than the middle of Uptown.
This soundtrack, while not specifically written with Halloween in mind, is definitely spooky in the best way possible. In my defense, the movie itself is set around Halloween and the climax occurs during a costume party. These quiet, sneaky songs give off an air of the strange and uncanny. If you're up late reading a scary book or going for a walk tonight, put on this album and see what unusual things jump out at you.
Let's get less political and more fictional, eh?
Yesterday's Spooky Month post got a little to real for me. I know, I wrote it - I should be able to reign it in. So how's about a whole soundtrack to my favorite month and a bit of cultural zeitgeist from days past? Instead of just a spooky single, let's take a look at a creepy collection of music, one that works from ambiance and subtle hints rather than hit-you-on-the-head heavy handedness. I want to tell you about the musical companion piece to the old cult hit The X-Files, Songs In The Key of X.
There was a time in the mid 90s where my older brother was part of a CD Club. Do those even exist anymore? For those of you too young to know, you join this organization that gets you a whole slew of cheap CDs the first month, then kind of auto-mails you the next CD every month after. Usually people singed up for the crazy deal (20 CDs for 20 cents!) and then got a crummy CD mailed to them every month at cost because they were too lazy to cancel. Not us, though. We got in, got our music and got out. He got tons of good music and let me pick a couple albums with him, then we had to order I think two or three at retail price to get the full discount. He had nothing on his wish list he wanted, so I sorted through the catalog to see if anything stood out. See how quaint this was? Man, iTunes was such a game changer. Anyway, I saw a compilation that listed among its entries Foo Fighters, Filter, Rob Zombie, The Meat Puppets and R.E.M. I was also big into The X Files at the time, so I filled out the paperwork (yeah, I know) and it arrived a couple weeks later as the leaves were turning. Both the impending Fall and the tone of the album have inextricably tied Songs In The Key of X to Halloween for me, and this time every year I find myself putting it on for both enjoyment and nostalgia. Turns out it still holds up, if it appeals in any way.
The thing about this album is that it's not really a proper soundtrack to the wonderfully twisted TV show. It's more a loose collection of songs that fit in theme or tone to the paranoid and twisted, the conspiracies and cover ups. The iconic theme song, haunting as ever, opens the album. From there, though, it branches out into appropriately weird territory. Alterative legends Soul Coughing turn in the fun and bizarre 'Unmarked Helicopters', a buzzer of a song that bears all the signs of the decade. Sheryl Crow sings the heartbreaking 'Standing On The Outside', which creates an air of noirish isolation with sparse, reverb-drenched guitars and walls of harmony. It's actually a beautiful, if mournful, tune. Foo Fighters cover 'Down In The Dark' by Gary Numan, adding to the paranoia and weirdness with the hypnotic head-bobber of a track. Filter, then still known more for 'Hey Man Nice Shot' than 'Take My Picture', offer a strange and squiggly little acoustic number with 'Thanks Bro'. Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds make their indelible mark with the always spooky 'Red Right Hand'. This song screams Halloween, with its chimes, plucked strings and dark, dramatic vocals.
While the paranormal and off-kilter exist in harmony here, things sometimes get more off kilter than paranormal. Show-casing the more quirky side of the show are numbers by P.M. Dawn, R.E.M.'s collaboration with William S. Burroughs or Screamin' Jay Hawkins. The Meat Puppets are all alt-pop with their lyrically relevant but sonically cheery 'Unexplained'. Elvis Costello pairs up with the ambient genius Brian Eno to make a wonderfully weird addition with 'My Dark Life', which fits both in tone and theme. Rob Zombie teamed up with progenitor Alice Cooper to deliver some blisteringly evil metal with 'Hands of Death', showing how the student became the master in their shared genre. Also, in another bizarre sign of the show's influence, rewinding the album behind the first track brought out two more songs, another from Nick Cave and Mark Snow. This under-utilized trick of the medium blew my mind when I first discovered it back in 1996, just as Chris Carter would have wanted it to.
This album, while not a soundtrack in the proper sense, is nonetheless a soundtrack to my Fall and Halloween every year. I adore the creeping and strange sounds, the light and the dark of the pop and alt, the sad and upbeat sounds playing off each other so well. The tunes may not all have appeared in the paranormal procedural but they fit the tone in spirit, creating an air of mystery for my favorite time of year. If you miss this iconic show or just want some music to give you pause while you walk through the leaves collecting on the sidewalk, go dig up this gem. There's an artist for everyone here, I guarantee it.
Well, good evening!
It's pretty darn late as I type this. Late enough, in fact, on a Sunday night that instead of doing a full on, emphatic recommendation on something amazing, I'd rather do a Warm Fuzzy Viewing. It's one of those quiet, rainy Sunday evenings where the day has passed rather uneventfully (in my case, running a couple errands and making curry while watching the Emmys and doing laundry) and now I sit in the dark, typing away. This is basically prime time for a Warm Fuzzy Viewing, where in you watch something or do something that makes you feel like you're taking in this little, private thing that only you know about. Instead of a late-night cartoon, though, this one's on a game.
Super Metroid is, without question, one of the best and most critically acclaimed games ever made. It's so economical and perfectly designed in its experience that one feels guided through playing it without consciously realizing it's happening. You get nudged in the proper direction without explicit direction or hand holding, but rather through insightful, well conveyed contextual clues. My favorite part of this Super Nintendo classic has to be the moments immediately after the dramatic opening.
What unfolds is this: bounty hunter Samus Aran is summoned to a space station studying the deadly but lucrative Metroid by distress signal. Awaiting her arrival is Space Pirate Ridley, in the midst of stealing the titular Metroid. A battle ensues and Ridley escapes, as does Samus. Giving chase, Samus heads to the hideout of the Space Pirates, the planet Zebes. From there, a sprawling yet intricately constructed adventure takes place as Samus seeks to recover the captured Metroid. The arrival to Zebes is what necessitates this particular Warm Fuzzy Viewing.
In masterful style, the player is introduced to the world in which the game takes place. Your iconic yellow spaceship lands on the surface in the middle of a rainstorm as night is falling. For a 16 bit game, it's a dynamic and mood-establishing stroke of artistry. There are no enemies present, no sense of urgency. It's just raining and dark out. You're left to your own devices to start the quest, slowly and with trepidation making your way into the Space Pirate lair. Its ominous and eerie - its quiet, a little too quiet. You make your way down into the interior of the planet, retreading old ground covered years prior. There's some familiar technology to make use of at the bottom of an abandons elevator shaft. Once you grab it, though, the spotlights go off and the guards come out in full force. The enemies are aware of your presence and the action starts. It's a fantastically crafted way to convey a sense of drama and adventure in a game with almost no dialogue.
I love this whole introductory sequence and how it unfolds in such a tense and quiet manner. You get to explore a silent, rainy world at your own pace. No one's around as you explore. It's no wonder this game routinely tops lists of the best games ever made.
I haven't forgotten about doing these.
It's been a while since I've written any Warm Fuzzy Viewings. Not wanting to dilute the content of the site, I've held off until I felt I should contribute to a different section. So how about something that only seems to make sense at night? Maybe it's because it is set during the night, or because I watched them late at night in my parent's basement when I was in high school, whatever the reason - it wouldn't be right to watch it in broad daylight. I'm talking about the Meteor Shower Trilogy, also known as the Lost South Park Movie.
Originally broadcast as three separate episodes in the summer of 1999, the Meteor Shower Trilogy has the main cast of South Park split up into their own stories. Cartman's story involves his abusive babysitter (and his obsession with the dated misfire that was Wild Wild West) while his mom attends a party at the Marsh's house to observe the titular meteor shower. Stan's episode is centered around the events of the party, where he's sequestered to the basement with a few other kids (including Butters!). At the party, a misunderstanding entices the involvement of the South Park police force, setting up a parody of the Waco incident in 1993. Kenny gets lumped into Kyle's story for an episode about camping and his Jewish heritage that gets weirder and weirder as the plot unfolds. None of what happens is intensely dramatic or of any permanence to the overall mythology to the show, it's just some bizarre and funny stuff. It's all set over the course of a single night, the three episodes occurring simultaneously.
I had wondered, when I saw the episodes ten years ago, if you could splice them all together into a single story. You may or may not recall my adoration of Fan Edits and how they re-contextualize stories with which we're already familiar. See where I'm going with this? Yeah - provided you know where to look on the ol' interwebs, you can find what's referred to as The Lost South Park Movie or The Meteor Shower. It's pretty loose and not to big on overlapping stories due to the way the individual episodes were written but it's still a very cool concept that only makes sense for me at night. I remember vividly the Sunday nights lying on the couch in the basement and howling at these episodes, loving the fact that they all took place over a single night. If you're interested, take a look around the web and see if you can dig 'em up. It's a cool concept.
Well hello, there!
I walked to the office again, this morning. I love starting the day off with a little exercise, even if it's just the long walk from my apartment to downtown. The quiet stroll through the neighborhood, the sprinklers in Loring park spraying mist into the air. The feeling of a city waking up as I walk down Nicollet Mall, seeing the vendors setting up for the farmers market. I was struck by the sensation of the morning sun and the warmth coming into the air after a cool night. It brought me back to the summers, particularly this time of year, when I would work with a local contractor, building houses and decks with him even though I was a mere 14 or 15 years old. His projects were often far out in the country side and it made more sense to sleep at my grandparent's house for weeks at a time. Being the young musically obsessed nerd that I was, I struggled with the limitation of being able to only bring a few of my CDs. No big boom-box, either - just my little Walkman. See how different life was before mp3 players? These were choices that had to be made, hard ones that would shape your day.
This soundtrack is phenomenal. It creates the whole tone of the film. It has tons of great artists doing strange things. It also brings me back to a strange, solitary place in my life, which only makes sense given the Lynchian nature. In our world of single downloads and self made playlists, this album benefits from being heard as a group. If you have to wait until Halloween, that's cool. I'll wait. You listen. You'll dig it.
Happy Weekend, everyone!
We're still in the midst of Book Worm Week. In the interest of switching genres abruptly, let's go completely outside of the box and look at something fun and easy for a Friday night thing, shall we? Today's post is on Frank Miller and David Mazzucchelli's stunning Batman: Year One.
I know what you're thinking. Comics, for real? I know, I'm another in the long line of emotionally stunted men who still read comics as adults. Some are more like actual novels, like the sprawling and long form Y: The Last Man. Others are completely whacked out, like Hellboy or anything involving the X-Men. Batman, I honestly believe, falls somewhere between the two. Sounds insane to say, but hear me out - Bats has no superpowers to speak of. He's just a very wealthy, well trained man with an over-accentuated sense of justice. Nothing supernatural or completely far out, depending on the story you're reading. My preferred tales of the Batman are all closer to reality than some of the more fantastical story lines and continuities. So this excellent tale of how the Dark Knight got his start grounds itself in that same sense of reality. Let's take a closer look.
No matter your stance on the format, you owe it to yourself to read one of the finest tales the medium can offer. If you've never read a comic, or anything about Batman, it's the perfect place to start. If you're passingly familiar with the world, it's an example of how high a standard the form can set. If you're a die hard, you already know just why you should re-read this classic. Batman: Year One is gospel. Do it for justice. Do it for the art.
Day four of writing while in AZ, and I'm fairly confidant that the sun has fried my brain. I'm feeling stupid and burnt. In retaliation I will write about something both simple minded and charmingly intelligent despite it's basic appearance. Something I have been really enjoying since it's debut, whose smiling disposition and jaunty soundtrack are a breath of fresh air in a television landscape that is too often grim, dour and unnecessarily dramatic.
Bob's Burgers! How have you not been watching this show? Starring Jon Benjamin, Dan Mintz, Eugene Mirman and Kristen Schaal, the series was created by Loren Bouchard. Bouchard is the genius behind such animated treasures as Dr. Katz and Home Movies. The show has the fairly standard premise of a man and his family trying to get by while running their burger joint - pretty standard stuff. Where the show shines, though, is it's witty writing, pacing and sense of humor. Many great shows use a pedestrian backdrop as a means to tell a bizarre story, the concept just being a launchpad of sorts.
The series is a standout this year among Fox's Sunday night lineup, easily filling the spot King of the Hill left behind. There's something so real and natural about the dialogue that just makes the show. The voice acting is phenomenal and super funny. I really can't say enough about this charming, outrageously funny show. If you can't catch it on Fox find it on Hulu, I guarantee you'll find something to strike you the right way. This is the best thing about Sunday nights by far
To make my first foray into the heading of Warm Fuzzy Viewings I'm focusing on a segment from a Treehouse of Horror episode that I could write about for page after page. The Segment, titled The Thing and I, from Treehouse of Horror VII, broadcast October 27, 1996, The piece is one of my favorite Simpsons Halloween segments ever written. In a plot that preys on our childhood fears of 'something in the attic', the essence of the story is that Bart's formerly conjoined twin brother Hugo has been chained in the attic and fed a bucket of fish heads for the last ten years. According to Dr. Hibbert he was "too crazy for Boy's Town, too much of a boy for Crazy Town," and was confirmed to be evil after a routine soul smear. Homer's decision to chain him up was, in his words, "the only humane thing to do."
The segment starts off with the Simpson clan hearing noised in the attic and seeing fleeting images in the vents, a thoroughly creepy start to a scary story. When Marge and Homer deny their efforts to find out more, Bart, Lisa and Maggie use some unsupervised time to dig into the mystery. Here's why it qualifies for consideration:
- most of the story takes place at night
- Simpsons kids investigate during a rain storm (Homer: "See Marge? Who needs a car wash you can drive around in the rain?)
- Kids hide in the closet to escape Hugo (with requisite fake-out gag involving vases
- Air vents and Attic mysteries!
Basically if it had started to snow halfway through this story it would have hit all the qualifiers for a Warm fuzzy Viewing. The Thing and I is an eerie, not alone in the house, the calls are coming from upstairs kind of story that cements exactly why this show excelled at Halloween specials.
I'm not saying there's not danger in the world. Of course there is. Cancer. Car accidents. Random acts of violence. Super volcanoes. But I only control my own self and how I react to things. So why can't I control getting creeped out by stuff like that video late at night? Why do I love to torture myself, especially non-stop in October? Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I like to pretend there's more out there. See how the other half lives. Who knows. 
