Some Kind of Movies

After a day like yesterday, there's nothing better than resting and keeping my mind off things with a good movie or three. Since last night I've been in a marathon DVD zone, and even fell asleep with my computer on only to be wakened by the bling of a co-worker who'd missed yesterday's “festivities” IMing me to see if I was in today. I guess it's technically not a marathon if the computer was on all night with a menu looping, something I hope isn't bad for my superdrive.

I began my long, strange journey into normal brain functions last night with Metallica: Some Kind of Monster. The last time I'd seen a documentary on the band was in high school over my friend Mike's. We were a lot more immature then, so I hope readers can forgive the fact that we mocked guitarist Kirk Hammett's lisp, particularly when describing the very serious loss of bassist Cliff Burton in a bus accident: “The BUTH flipped over and he was in MY BUNK and the BUTH wath flipping!” It was the first time I'd heard him or any other band member speak, and his soft-spoken demeanor was so much in contrast to the image I had of the group from their music in those days before I'd heard Load and Re-load, from their ”Creed phase.” I feel terrible for making fun of him in hindsight, but to be fair I was a teenager at the time.

The new documentary chronicles the making of their St. Anger album but offers an indepth look at not only the creative process, but how the individual members have(or haven't) matured as they've gotten older, some of them even having families now. It was really surreal to see METALLICA sitting around in therapy, talking about their feelings and how they treat one another. Megadeth's Dave Mustaine stops by at one point to tell Lars how it hurts to be second to them and to think if he was still in the band, he could be one of them. James frequently storms out of studios slamming doors when the others intrude upon his lyrics. He spends a good portion of the film in rehab. Bassist Jason Newsted admits that he left the band because, while some of the others started families and had children, his music was his children, and he needed to work on other projects. That's no sadder than the paintings Lars considers art and sells in galleries not I suspect for their quality, but for his name.

All the turmoil between members in their search for a new bassist and attempts to reconcile their conflicts with one another only fuels the new album, and as songs arise from crumpled sheets of loose leaf and James warms up his “instrument” singing more traditional vocal exercises, it becomes clear that Metallica is BACK. The pounding drums, the guitar rifts that get a body moving, and the staccato delivery of the lyrics make a triumphant return. This is the band that got me through late nights in college trying to finish paintings and other projects. I was especially enjoying the song Frantic(“Frantic tick tick tick tick tick tock!”) and seeing the thought process that got them there. Who knows; maybe I'll pick up this album at some point.

I fell asleep watching Firefly after that. It was too late to start Ghost in the Shell 2 last night and, as I found out this morning, it would have been too deep to take in when I was half asleep. If at all possible, the animation was even more beautiful than the original, the score as haunting. Painstakingly detailed CGI melded seamlessly with conventional animation, and the story questioned the meaning of existence itself. There's one particularly poignant scene with a basset hound that, while I'm a cat person, I related to a lot and was very moved. No words are spoken, but the animation captures the emotional bond between animal and master, as well as a deeper sadness buried within the main character. If I had one complaint it was that the subtitle track was actually a closed-captioning track, so sound effects were included as well as dialogue. I don't need to read “[HELICOPTER APPROACHING]”, and honestly the hearing impaired can see the helicopter as well as I can too. It was a little distracting at times, especially given the philosophical depths the movie plunged into.

Finally, I watched Napoleon Dynamite this afternoon. It was like watching myself. A taller, skinnier me with glasses and lighter hair, and more of it. OK, he looks nothing like me. But the awkward geeky things he says to people throughout the film are the sort of things I would have said in my awkward teen years, had I not chosen silence after repeatedly getting laughed at. Napoleon either doesn't care or truly is immersed in his own reality, but he stands up for his friends no matter what and has some real talent. That's another big difference between us; he CAN dance.

As if that wasn't enough to watch, I'm back on Firefly now, after a brief detour watching something called The ‘BU which successfully lampoons everything I can't stand about those ridiculous teen dramas, and occasionally stars Sarah Chalke. She's not in every episode but her character is, and I cracked up at the fact that no one seemed to notice.

OK then, it's back to the genius that is Whedon for me. Tune in tomorrow. Maybe there will be artwork, or maybe there will be a special announcement...