Gone Away, Come Back: Mickey Rourke

I've always loved Mickey Rourke, even as he became a huge freak seemingly bent on destroying his acting career. There was always something about him onscreen that made him the center of any scene, even when the movie flat out sucked. Check out this great and thorough article by Shelia O'Malley on his 25-yr career on The House Next Door. O'Malley on his latest film, The Wrestler:

It is a great performance, one that I am still processing and thinking about. I am not sure where Mickey Rourke fits in now. He "fit in" when he was young because he made it to the Alpha-Dog position of male Hollywood stars, and was gorgeous and sexy. He can no longer rely on those things. He must rely on something else that is much more permanent: his talent. He needs to choose wisely, and the problem still remains that it is difficult to cast Rourke properly, even more so now.

I can't wait to see the Wrestler.

NY Times movie summaries

I love the writer(s) who does the movie encapsulations in the TV listings of the NY Times. Must be one of the best jobs ever: watch movies, and write an under twenty-word, often hilarious, sometimes snarky summation of the film.

Here are some choice examples from the past couple of days:
The DaVinci Code - "Religious mystery could rock foundations of Christianity. What's up with Hanks's hair?"
Practical Magic - "Sisters resist family legacy: witchcraft. Barbie joins a coven."
Fargo - "Coens' snowbound film noir, merry and macabre."
The Matrix Revolutions - "Ferocious machine assault on battered Zion. Stop frowning, Neo; it's finally over."
The Hills Have Eyes - "Bloodthirsty mutants hunt fresh meat. Awfully good at making you feel awful."
Seven - "Murders based on seven deadly sins. Deadly dull."
Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me - "Laura Palmer's last days, in prequel to Lynch series. Not the worst movie ever made, just seems that way."

Slate graciously provides a link.

Too Much L Word?

I had a dream last night I was making out with the latest subject of Louis Vuitton's ad campaign, Scarlett Johannson. WTF? 1)I don't even think Sco-Jo's that hot, 2)nor am I really into women, AND much less if I was to be into one, 3)it surely wouldn't be a blonde.

I gotta figure it was brought on by having to print too many ads with her recently, too much lesbian-related TV before bedtime or perhaps a new medication (anyone want some?) Weird. Whole new world.

I'm Only Going to Claim it Once

Dreamgirls ruled. Big budget musical done right: the girls were pretty, the costumes fab, the glitter covered sets gorgeous, even Eddie Murphy wasn't a chump and the whole thing made me smile as I sat through it yesterday at the always fantastic-last-of-the- great-movie palaces blahdy blah blah Zeigfield on 54th. Kate saying she saw it twice in the theater surpised me but also forced me into going to see it. And there you go - she wasn't wrong.

Ridicule at will.

For the Sake of the Song

I saw the new Townes Van Zandt documentary called "Be Here to Love Me" this weekend at the Angelika. While I'd seen some of the footage before in Heartworn Highways, a 1977 film shot partially in Nashville about the rebirth of the outlaw country movement (available from Netflix, it contains some excellent footage that includes a supremely baby-faced Stevie Earle!!), much of the footage was new to me. While the film doesn't follow a traditional narrative path, it does a nice job of turning what is a real bummer of a story into something bittersweet, and ultimately recognizes the talent that was Townes. Make no mistake -- Townes was a self-destructive drunk who wrote some of the most brillant songs in the world, and his death at 52 was simply a sad waste that everyone saw coming for years. The film doesn't gloss over his past, but I can only guess at the tales left out given the bits and pieces that were included about his ruinous behavior. The documentary gets a little music video-ey (fading out stills as a song plays over them), making me think there isn't much good footage of Townes available.

Because he was notoriously falling apart at the seams for years, he only recorded about ten studio albums along with a slew of live releases that includes the much-lauded "Live at the Old Quarter." I never did get to see him play. One of my biggest regrets is blowing off the last show he played in NYC during the fall of 1996 at the Bottom Line. I had just moved here and remember thinking "oh, it's New York - of course he'll play again." Regretfully, I was wrong on that count, as he died on January 1st, 1997.