Successful Followup

Shaun of the Dead is easily the best horror-comedy since Saturday the 14th. I don’t count Creepshow or Tales from the Crypt because they are horror narratives that occasionally delve into comedy. Shaun of the Dead holds a special and unique place in movies for me because of its successful genre-crossover. It is definitely a horror movie, but it is also very funny. The plot is familiar; zombies destroy civilization while a few ragged survivors fight for their lives. The first big laughs come from the blissful obliviousness of the main characters as their world crumbles around them. The laughs continue as the well-directed cast of strong actors encounter and escape zombie peril while London crashes. Writer/star Simon Pegg, writer/director Edgar Wright, and co-star Nick Frost created a gem. Naturally, it’s exciting to see a reunion of these same principal minds (along with some of the Dead cast) to take on a new genre through a comedic lens. Hot Fuzz opened last weekend and I was there to see it.

It’s fun. Lots of fun. There’s much of the same successful formula. The comedy comes from good use of old jokes and jollying with the police-action movie genre. Yet Hot Fuzz never becomes straight parody along the lines of Airplane, Hot Shots, or The Naked Gun. As with Shaun of the Dead, Pegg and Wright respect their genre while playing around. There’s loud and impressive gun battles, splattery murders, and all-around good combat. There’s also an intriguing, if not overly complex murder-mystery plot. Simply put, Pegg (a hard-case London cop forcefully re-assigned to the rural country) must find out why so many back-woods Brits in a small, peaceful village are being suspiciously bumped off. Frost plays a bumbling member of local law-enforcement and Jim Broadbent (an accomplished actor in his own right) plays the forcefully docile local Chief of Police. The deaths are obviously murders, but the townsfolk are content to write everything off as quaint accidents. Pegg spends a large portion of the movie trying to convince the small-town yokels and himself that he’s not imagining everything.

This brings me to my one major complaint; the movie is about 10 minutes too long. There isn’t one scene or character or plot that needs to be chopped. Rather, a few small parts could be pared off throughout. There’s maybe a few too many minutes of overly simple-minded townsfolk, a couple of trim-able scenes of nearly catching the murderer again, and a bumbling moment or two to remove. This is not a crippling fault, but a slightly shorter running time would have helped. Something that works so well shouldn't be overdone. At least it's a good movie that's a little long. Comparing this movie to another consumable would be to say that it's more akin to eating too much good food rather than a good meal gone bad.

Having addressed an unexpected fault, here’s a pleasant surprise. Timothy Dalton is really good. He plays the clearly and savoringly evil big businessman taking advantage of the small town folk. In addition, he always shows up at crime scenes having made obviously incriminating remarks just before murders occur: “He’ll be in little bits tomorrow” and “I’d love to crack your skull open” are two choice examples. Dalton takes to his part with relish and he’s enjoyable to watch. Nice to see a less successful ex-Bond make good. The addled members of the local SWAT team and the hick townspeople make up an excellent ensemble. The story works, the movie flows well, and great genre-bending is in full effect. Pegg and Wright also take the time to develop their characters and create a sense of conflict and development for a larger story among the comedy, blood, and bullets. Pegg’s and Frost’s characters both have personal issues to solve, and the movie takes several turns that make the mystery and action more complex. The movie works really well in many ways, and I’m glad to say that the smart-minded folk behind Shaun of the Dead did themselves good again. I hope the movie gets wide release and this creative team gets it well-deserved due so that we can see more of their work.

On The Recent Terrible Event...

My condolences to the students, faculty, friends and family of the dead and wounded at Virginia Tech. As a college teacher, even part-time & unemployed as I am, I feel for the horror that so many experienced on April 16 on the Virginia Tech campus. A terrible tragedy. Not much more can be said at this point, but I do have a few points about the reactions to this tragedy on the other blog I write for, in case anyone is interested. Regardless, my sympathies to those experiencing terrible pain and loss from this event.

Slathering on the Corporate Cheese

My latest assignment to address bill paying involves looking at bright, fresh print ads for a major media conglomerate. I'm doing the same thing as I do in English class; look for grammar and spelling errors in composition as well as non-sensical layout. When I started this assignment, there was talk of some copywriting as well as working with new desktop publishing software. Thus far, it's been all error checking and layout repair with one notable exception.

This mega-powerful conglomerate is taking a page straight out of "The Dundies" episode of The Office by creating a ceremony with an Academy Awards theme. This ceremony presents awards to employees who promote diversity in the workplace. Rewarding employees by giving them a ceremony like they're movie stars is a nice, if derivative idea that should please many people. It's enjoyable to watch the creation of the show's program because I get to see some multimedia software at work (a part of modern technology I'm slowly catching up to) and I get to watch the assembly of the corporate award show veneer. The online and print program has appropriate glitz and glam to it and I was allowed to make one contribution beyond correcting horrendous spelling and inarticulate prose. The copywriter needed a small bit for the program and she asked me for my thoughts.

"I need a quote here and I'm not sure what to do," the copywriter said with a nervous fidget (the proof was due in an hour and printing a 50+ page Mac document with picture files takes at least an hour).

We needed this quote for space filler between two different sections of the awards. Other quotes sprinkled in the program involved standard congratulatory corporate rhetoric such as, "This team rolled up its sleeves," "His work pushed this account over the top," "She catapulted the project," etc. Since the filler space transitions between the individual awards and the group awards, I immediately thought of the needs of the many outweighing the needs of few, and tried to find a comparable catchphrase. With that in mind, I said, "We should have something really deep and cheesy and silly like..."

Pause. Then I finished my thought.

"The power of one adds to the powers of many."

The copywriter gasped with a smile on her face. "They'll eat that right UP!" she said and quickly filled the program space with my cheese; very likely the worst phrase I've ever composed, yet a phrase that seemed to fit so well.

My next thought pictured my phrase on the bottom of a huge wall poster showing a sweeping overhead shot of a tiny human rock climber, little fists raised in triumph, perched atop the highest mountaintop in a glorious range of forests and high granite peaks. Miserable corporate workers look at this poster, read my phrase, and curse me unknowingly for making their working lives worse by shoving treacle triteness in their faces, reminding them to be happy in their daily drudgery. The point of these imaginings, of course, is that I've copywritten, packaged, and sold my cheese trite phrase for a ton of cash and am busy spending as much of it as I can.

However, I am like the people I've made to suffer in my imaginings: I'm the corporate worker who looks for breaks and reveries to occupy my thoughts during the necessary drudgery of corporate business. Still, for one split second, I can feel like I've contributed to something larger. It's likely that hundreds, if not thousands, of people will be reading this phrase during the awards show (I'm working with one of the BIG conglomerates) so my phrase, this tiny and horrible part of my writing, will have the largest audience ever given to one of my compositions.

So, all you diversity award winners and audience members, I apologize for dropping this awful clause in your lap. However, I'm glad that so many people will read one of my sentences.

Clarity in Amsterdam, Part Seven (Conclusion)

The final chapter from the revised version of travel writings from 2005.

If you're new this story, catch up by clicking on "PART ONE" below.

PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX

We all take the last couple of days trying to justify ourselves as cultured tourists. We go to the Rijksmuseum and the Anne Frank house. We travel to Belgium to witness beer being made in the last brewery that uses natural yeast in the air for fermentation. Every other brewery in the world imports its yeast. I learn that beer is actually yeast piss. It doesn’t bother me.

We see the brilliant works of Rembrandt, the glory of the 16th century treasures from the lost Dutch empire, the mashing of modern and medieval architecture in Brussels; we are very, very stoned when we see these and many other beautiful works of culture, art, and life.

Mystique is part of the lure of Amsterdam, just as mystique holds the power to secrets. Imagination gives more power than reality. I love Amsterdam, but I find that I don’t want to debauch myself as much as I thought I would because there isn’t as much mystique or wonder for vices that are readily available, even for drugs and sex (although I still remind myself that I would not feel this way had I been to Amsterdam when I was five years younger). It was as if every piece of candy that I ever wanted was put in front of me, but it was the allure and not the action that held the mystique.

Returning home is very hard. The trip was a protective cocoon of sorts, isolating me from all the problems I face, but I have to come out from behind the shield. I still don’t know how to like myself more. I don’t feel any additional strength or wisdom. There is no clear path for me, no enlightenment that I so desperately wanted and expected. But there is no sense of waste or loss. I’ve gained something, but it may take a long time (if ever) to notice any real effects.

I hope to return to Holland soon, now that I can find my way in Amsterdam. I’ve kept my city map. I’ll bring it with me when I return, but I won’t need to look at it so much. On my first day, when I was lost, I did promise to stay at a hotel near the first canal off Damrak. There is that and many other things I want to do on the return trip, the first being a stop in the coffee shop to watch European football. There, the singing will start anew, and for a little while, I will again know perfect unison.