Kung Fu Treachery and Sagging Vaginas

With my workload finally reduced from giant overbearing deadlines to, well, the deadlines are still giant and overbearing, but there's no outside authority which will make me lose $60,000 if I don't get this one thing done on time…

Anyway, recently I have discovered more time to watch movies, and two recent pictures have made an impression on me. Neither film was my idea…the Connoisseur recommended the first, while I saw the second in theatres today with the Cameraman and another associate of ours.

Scott Sanders's Black Dynamite is on the one hand comparable to Grindhouse as a loving tribute to a classic 1970s genre ripe for sincere appreciation of its occasional ridiculousness. But while Tarantino and Rodriguez captured the motifs and atmosphere of old-school low-budget horror, they still produced their modern-day versions with immaculate professionalism. Sanders and co-writer/star Michael Jai White (who is PERFECT) go one further with what the Connoisseur appropriately described as a "PIXAR attention to detail." The same kind of stock available to Blaxploitation directors was used, and so were little low-budget gaffes and tricks such as boom mikes casting shadows on and sometimes appearing in interior sets, excessive split-screen, easy thrills such as broken windows, and mismatched overcutting for the action sequences. But did I mention the script is also really, really funny? Blaxploitation hallmarks such as the Vietnam flashback, the drug dealer preying on the innocent, the pimp fraternity, the out-of-place kung fu, and the evil white man's conspiracy are all beautifully set up (climaxing in a nunchuck-wielding certain former president), the musical score is devilishly apropos, and the cast plays it on the fine line it needs to be played on. I can't decide if my favorite moment is Black Dynamite's character-breaking frustration with the visible boom over his desk, the scene where the revolutionaries and good-hearted pimps use Greek mythology to deduce the nature of the evil plot, the fight scene with Dr. Wu ("Your knowledge of scientific biological transmogrification is only outmatched by your zest for kung-fu treachery!"), or possibly the greatest dick shot since Monty Python's Life of Brian. And so many quotable lines ("Sarcastically, I'm in charge."). Everyone with Netflix needs to watch it today.

Ricki Stern's Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work is notable for two things: the brilliantly obscene clips of Rivers's stand-up career, with hilarious jokes involving fourteen abortions, inappropriate nicknames for Michelle Obama, and certain drooping female body parts…and the emotion which breaks through her proudly plasticized face when she fires her longtime manager. Overcome with sadness, she describes how it killed her to let go of one of the only people who could talk to her about her late husband, who could say "Remember when Bernie Brillstein threw that party and Edgar was the only person who showed up in a black tie?" It made me realize how she was doing stand-up when my parents were younger than me and NO WOMEN did stand-up, and how much energy and talent she's used in 75 years. "I'm an actress," she says, "and a comedienne is only one of my roles." It's a role I think she plays brilliantly. And you notice the brilliance when you're not laughing at Melissa ripping Annie Duke a new asshole on The Celebrity Apprentice. Or Joan pulling out a miniature Lysol spray can and saying "I'm a Jewish woman! I have to clean the bathroom!"

OTHER MAGNIFICENCE.

Signed my lease today! I received a fantastic 3BR/2 Bath apartment, an MAC T-shirt, and a chocolate bar.

Call me a magnificent idiot for buying a pair of shorts labeled medium and then seeing they're 2XL after I rip off the tags. At least they fit…and they'll be nice in winter.

The locks at the Ratner Center don't like me.

And there's nothing I'm looking forward to more this week than getting to play trivia with the S.O. tomorrow.

Rest in peace (as much as you can), Harvey Pekar. American Splendor and the non-fiction histories redefined what a graphic novel can be. And your self-portraits had the most human beauty imaginable.