Muppet moments

Nothing can bring a smile to your face more effectively than Jim Henson's signature creation.

There will be carpools

With all the fears lately of gas rising to $4 a gallon, I'm finally starting to see various brands breaking the $4 threshold.

On my into work the other day, I noticed that two gas stations on Bradlee Blvd. in Bethesda had both premium and plus at just over $4. The price for regular unleaded at both stations held steady at $3.85, but when the plus grade starts to break $4, that's when I start to worry, because that means regular won't be too far off.

I don't know about you, but I flat-out refuse to pay $4 a gallon for gas. Having said that, I'm already taking various steps to save on gas. To wit, when I do groceries now, I walk the mile and a half from Riverhouse to the Giant on Glebe Road, or I walk across the street to Harris Teeter (I'd shop there all the time, actually, except that it's naturally far more expensive than Giant). With all that walking, not only am I saving gas, but I'm also getting some much-needed exercise.

Working from that plan, the only times I'll be getting behind the wheel of my car will be to go to work . . . though I'm wrestling with the dilemma that that presents, because I live right next to the Pentagon City Metro station, and I work five or six blocks south of the Bethesda Metro station. Believe it or not, it takes far less time to drive to work, and the drive up and down GW Parkway each day is quite manageable. If I took Metro, though, I'd have to contend with overcrowded trains, a circus of commuters at the Gallery Place transfer stop, then have to brave the commuting disaster known as the Red Line up to Bethesda (and I say "brave" because you have to have balls of steel to commute on the notoriously disastrous Red Line each day; God only knows how I did it for a year).

So with gas prices ever on the increase, I find myself in a Catch-22 with respect to commuting to work: I either drive and use up overpriced gas; or I take Metro, save the gas, but endure commuting headaches. A tough decision to make, in any case.

Where's a Vulcan mind meld when you need one (III)

Yet another earworm in my life. Love the song, hate the movie.

There Will Be Blood

I think it goes without saying that Daniel Day-Lewis is quite a fine actor. In fact, he's achieved quite a reputation for going to extreme lengths to prepare for his various roles. Like in My Left Foot, it was said that he never once broke character, not even between takes—and thus the cast and crew had to physically transport him all around the set (since he played the cripple Christy Brown, whose sole working appendage was . . . you guessed it—his left foot!). And in The Last of the Mohicans, it was said that he prepared for the role of frontier warrior Hawkeye by actually living in the woods for an extended period of time.

God only knows what kind of preparation he did for Gangs of New York! Though maybe we don't want to go there . . .

So when I first got word of his new movie There Will Be Blood vis-à-vis the rapidly-generating Oscar buzz . . . to be honest, at first I was rather dubious. I guess my cynicism was responding, "Gee, Daniel Day-Lewis, maybe up for another Oscar! Big surprise . . ." Then I saw the first trailers for There Will Be Blood, and my cynicism quickly gave way to growing curiosity, particularly when I saw the specifics of his role—he'd be playing an oil tycoon, but not in the present day. Rather, he'd be playing an oilman in the early 20th century. Very quickly I was reminded of his previous acting venture, itself another period piece—the aforementioned Gangs of New York from Martin Scorsese—and right away my mind drew parallels between the two characters: both had very sinister mustaches (laugh if you will, but that little bit of facial hair contributed greatly to each character's physical aura!), and both carried very overpowering, menacing presences. Even their voices were similar! (Despite Gangs requiring an old-school New York accent, and Blood needing merely a sophisticated, upper-class tone.)

Going into my viewing of There Will Be Blood at the Silver Spring AFI back in January (yes, this review is that long overdue), I was expecting the theme of the movie to be oil and the ambitious pursuit of corrupt wealth. A sort of late 19th-century/early 20th-century Syriana, if you will. But that's not at all what I discovered. Yes, oil was the talisman through which we view this character, but the oil itself wasn't the primary focus of the film. Instead, There Will Be Blood turned out to be a very controlled, very subtle character study of one man: oil tycoon Daniel Plainview.

Much has been made of the film's slow pace, but I almost don't even notice that while being carried deeper and deeper into Daniel Plainview's world—a world he keeps very rigid, very closed off from the rest of humanity. Only in the presence of those he trusts with his life does he begin to crack and show us the inner workings of this very complicated, very angry man.

To date, I've had mixed feelings about director Paul Thomas Anderson's work, so when I first went to see There Will Be Blood, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I was greatly disappointed with Punch-Drunk Love, although Magnolia showcased some of the finest acting I've ever seen (I'd even go so far as to say John C. Reilly was more deserving than Tom Cruise of an Oscar nomination) despite the story's far-fetched nature (frogs from heaven, anybody?). Boogie Nights, however, was quite impressive—very reminiscent of Martin Scorsese in terms of period style and the great depths to which certain characters can fall when at their worst (think of the similar drug lows between Boogie Nights and Goodfellas). But in There Will Be Blood, we see a very slow, very gradual, and dare I say very patient descent of one man into his own self-destruction. A modern-day Raging Bull, if you will.

Like World Trade Center and The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, there's no dialogue whatsoever for the first 15 or 20 minutes of the film. What we see instead is a physical narration of Daniel Plainview's humble beginnings: his own long days down a well, chipping away at the rock in the hopes of finding gold and silver; how he came to adopt the orphan baby boy, who would eventually come to be known as HW Plainview; and how a random equipment accident in a well produced his greatest find: an untapped oil well. I think we should credit Daniel Day-Lewis's seasoned acting abilities in that scene, for he firmly shouted out, "We're rich!" without once uttering a word: when the crane surfaced from the mine after accidentally striking oil, he ran his hand down the oil-covered shaft, then raised his oil-covered hand to the sky triumphantly, illustrating his euphoria at potential wealth and delivering a terrible portent of his capitalistic blood-lust to come.

As the years go on and Daniel Plainview becomes a more established oilman, he and his adopted son HW travel from town to town offering to drill for oil, always making great promises to the townspeople, who aren't often swayed so easily. Then one day Daniel gets a visit from a young man named Paul Sunday (played by Paul Dano), who dangles an offer in front of him: pay him $600 up front, and Paul will show him the location of a vastly untapped oil field—i.e., his family's ranch. Daniel is a little skeptical at first, but he and HW nevertheless make the journey out to the Sunday ranch, using the cover that they're quail-hunting and looking for a good place to set up camp. When Daniel and HW do find oil on the land, they conveniently make an offer to buy the Sunday ranch—at a quietly substantial profit to Daniel and HW, of course. Abel Sunday, the family's rather weak and easily pliable father, finds Daniel's offer very appealing . . . though Paul's brother Eli (also played by Paul Dano; we're essentially supposed to presume they're twins, and that Paul Sunday doesn't live on the ranch anymore) has an agenda of his own, and doesn't buy into Daniel and HW's offer to purchase the land.

Eli, you see, has his own church, and when we're finally treated to a view of his normal church service, it's as clear as day that he's a charlatan, that he's using his church and his easily-swayed parishioners as a stepping stone to something greater. And from here on out, he and Daniel play a near-constant test of wills: who can outplay the other in their conquest of ambitions.

I would call their conflict one of control, credit, and agendas, and it reaches such perfect heights during the baptism scene, where the ambitions of both men become crystal-clear. Daniel accepts Jesus into his life—but only as a condition to buy away a man's land for his oil pipeline. (Watch for Daniel to utter the word "pipeline" during his baptism.) And Eli, not missing a glorious opportunity to humiliate Daniel, furiously strips him of his dignity for stealing Eli's thunder for so long. Worse yet, he hits Daniel right where it hurts the most.



Daniel Day-Lewis won a well-deserved Oscar for his performance as Daniel Plainview, and he dominated the screen through every moment of the film. You could almost make the argument that the best reason to see There Will Be Blood is to see Daniel Day-Lewis give a showstopper performance, much like you watch Scent of a Woman to see Al Pacino tear up the scenery (though There Will Be Blood has far more to offer than Scent of a Woman, in my opinion). Paul Dano more than held his own opposite the gigantic Day-Lewis, and I was actually a little disappointed that he didn't receive a nomination for Best Supporting Actor.

This also won an Oscar for Best Cinematography, which was a pleasant surprise, as I figured it would go either to No Country for Old Men or The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Crawford. I was personally hoping this would also take home Best Director and Best Picture, but alas, no such luck. All the same, this was a beautifully crafted film, with superlative acting and exquisitely-honed editing and camerawork (the oil fountains and the pivotal oil fire alone are worth the price of admission).

My one complaint with the casting is that I wish Paul Thomas Anderson had found adult actors for Mary Sunday and HW that more closely resembled their child counterparts. That's sort of a pet peeve of mine, as I hate it when older versions of the same character bear no resemblance to their younger version.

But despite that one complaint, I rate There Will Be Blood a perfect 10—a true masterpiece. And I couldn't end this review without at least one video of that new line for the ages.

An unexpectedly interesting Blue/White

If I said this was a unique Blue/White game, I'd be making the understatement of the year.

To start with, we lost the burgers we bought for the tailgate, so all we could eat were yellow-creme Oreos, chips and salsa, Guinness, and gin and tonics. Then we accidentally left the grill on (because it was only after we'd turned it on that we discovered the burgers were missing), so one of the grates subsequently melted. Then the game itself was so crowded (a record Blue/White crowd of 73,000) that people were standing on the mezzanine rails just to watch the game—thus blocking the views of people sitting one row up . . . specifically, us.

Yet somehow, we still managed to have a good time in spite of ourselves.

I met Will, my friend Tony from out Pittsburgh way, and my father up in Happy Valley for a beautiful day of spring football. The atmosphere reminded me a lot of the first few games each September, with the warm sun glowing on us and the delicious aroma of barbecues drifting heavy in the air. Tailgating spirits were very high all around, and I think some Ferris wheels were set up by the Bryce Jordan Center as part of the Blue/White weekend festivities.

We didn't get to see too much of the game (we arrived into Beaver Stadium late, and had to conquer the rail crowd, as noted above), though from what I did see, it appears our general lack of on-field cohesion remains—i.e., not completing passes, dropping passes, just general sloppiness that there's really no excuse for. With the Blue team playing the White team, naturally Penn State won (though it could be argued that the 2005 game was the one Blue/White game that Penn State actually lost, because the game was called in the third quarter from a lightning storm passing through), and for the first time in maybe five or six years, I got to go down onto the field after the game. It's really a wonderful feeling mingling with so many other fans down on the actual football field, and I managed to get a number of excellent pictures, which I hope to post on Flickr soon.

My father ducked out early, about halfway through the fourth quarter, and after the game, I went downtown with Will and Tony to frequent some of the downtown establishments. While we were there, I picked up two new T-shirts super-cheap: $8.99 each. At first I thought it was a mega-bargain, but then realized that it was likely poor-college-student pricing, which means I'll have to do a lot more clothes shopping in downtown State College. We topped off our downtown visit by picking up a few slices of Hi-Way Pizza and eating up by the Hub lawn before heading home.

All in all, a good Blue/White.

And before I forget, I must say that the spring "views" we were afforded were worth the trip alone. Well worth it!

I want to believe, too!

The title for the second installment in the X-Files film franchise has been released: I Want to Believe. Further details show that the film will not be about alien encounters but rather a "stand-alone, earth-bound story".

I can appreciate this approach, but at the same time, something just seems missing without Mulder and Scully trying to battle aliens. This was really the crux of the show, and the first film dealt with that story angle beautifully (and was smart enough to let the TV series reach its own natural conclusion five seasons later). With the show's dark yet slightly hopeful finale, the next logical step would be for Mulder and Scully to continue as the outlaws they've become, searching for ways to stop the upcoming invasion of earth. Because with the Syndicate destroyed and Cancer Man turned into charcoal, all earthly ambassadors who even know about the invasion have been wiped from the scene, so Mulder and Scully are truly humanity's last hope.

This strikes me as the perfect groundwork for an X-Files sequel, and I find myself wondering why Chris Carter isn't pursuing this path.

Though upon reflection, I have to wonder if a third film is planned, one that does explore Mulder and Scully trying to prevent the invasion. If so, the perfect release date would be December 22, 2012.

A side-by-side comparison of "Crying"

It's not unusual (to borrow that famous line from Tom Jones) to find a Roy Orbison song in a David Lynch movie. Two of his most famous examples are "In Dreams," which Dennis Hopper and Dean Stockwell immortalized in Lynch's film Blue Velvet, and "Crying," which hit glorious pay dirt in Mulholland Dr.

The video below is Orbison's original version of "Crying."



In Mulholland Dr., Orbison's song takes on a whole new world: being performed a cappella, in Spanish, and with an intensity that raises it to mysterious yet heavenly heights.



Having grown accustomed to the Spanish a cappella version, I find it fascinating to listen to them both side by side, because in a way, you have two versions that are mysteriously similar yet unique enough to stand on its own. Both express a certain pain, and both express it in heartbreaking, beautiful tones. But they're different enough in tempo, in timbre, and inflection that you almost have two totally different songs, each with a wondrous magic that sets it apart from the other.

I honestly can't say one is better than the other, but all the same, my kudos to both Orbison and whoever arranged the Spanish version (I'm guessing Lynch composer Angelo Badalamenti?) for creating something wondrous.

The jinx has been reversed

Apparently the "jinxing" of the new Yankee Stadium has officially been reversed, because the David Ortiz jersey buried underneath that new ballpark has been unearthed and removed.

Workers dug for five hours on Saturday with jackhammers, finding the jersey at 3:25 p.m. ET and notifying Yankees officials.

The Yankees plan to donate the jersey to charity, and they may pursue a lawsuit against the construction worker, according to The Associated Press.

While I don't necessarily subscribe to the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry, I do think a lawsuit might be a tad drastic. Rather, I think the construction worker should be credited with the creativity of his "prank."

I guess a voodoo doll didn't work?

I caught this small news blip before going to bed last night, and it gave me a good laugh. It would seem that some construction workers at the new Yankee Stadium buried a Red Sox jersey under the visiting clubhouse in the hopes of jinxing the Yankees.

I guess some rivalries are so intense that fans will do anything to sway the gods in favor of their team. Kinda makes me wonder if any of the construction workers at Nationals Park were Marlins fans, though . . .

Think the NRA will give him a 21-gun salute?

I caught the initial news report on the Post last night around 12:15 am (though I was too tired to blog about it then), but last evening actor Charlton Heston, known most for starring in a number of biblical epics, died.

A long, long time ago, Charlton Heston came to Penn State as part of their Distinguished Speaker series, and he was one of two famous people I was privileged to see (the other being James Earl Jones), and during his appearance, Heston appeared quite frail physically—yet the power and charisma behind his voice still remained. Though during the Q&A that followed, he struck me as not being the most personable, which was a stark contrast to James Earl Jones (who struck me as a warm, grandfatherly figure). I don't recall Heston proclaiming "from my cold, dead hands" during his speech at Penn State, but he did utter another of his famous lines: "Guns don't kill people. People kill people."

I really don't have a stance on the issue of gun control, but I do think Heston lost a lot of his standing and took quite a bit of heat when he became president of the NRA. Not the least of which came in Bowling for Columbine, when Michael Moore essentially made an ass out of him when Moore came to visit Heston's home to talk about gun control.

The last time I heard about Charlton Heston in the news was about five years ago, when he made his televised statement about being diagnosed with Alzheimer's. At the time, it reminded me a lot of Ronald Reagan's similar statement during the mid-90s about having Alzheimer's, and I'm guessing this disease was the cause of Mr. Heston's departure.