Hot and Cold List 2008

This is the first time I am not looking forward to a new year. celebration With economy is going to recession, carbon dioxide emission is all time high and the fact that I am still not feeling well on the New Year’s eve doesn’t lift my spirit up even a little bit. That being said, this is my Hot and Cold List 2008 that touches on the political matter, entertainment views; such as the hottest movie, musician, actor, actress, and even on my personal life and my beloved country, Malaysia. I even spare a space for your own Hot and Cold List 2008 to be shared with other readers. No, I am not running out of idea. Anyway, let the drum's rolling!

1. General Event:

Hot: Barack Obama won U.S. Presidential Election
Cold: The Mumbai attacks which killed more than hundred people


2. Politician:

Hot: Barack Obama, U.S. President-elect
Cold: George W. Bush


3. Movie:

Hot: Wall.E
Cold: Australia


4. Musician:

Hot: Lil Wayne
Cold: Amy Winehouse



5. Actor:

Hot: Heath Ledger in The Dark Night
Cold: Eddie Murphy in Meet Dave


6. Actress:

Hot: Tina Fey (as Sarah Palin in SNL)
Cold: Nicole Kidman in Australia


7. Malaysia:

Hot: General election
Cold: Bukit Antarabangsa landslides that buried 14 bungalows and killed five


8. Beijing Olympic:

Hot: Michael Phelps and his seven gold medals
Cold: Lip-sync at the opening ceremony by Lin Miaoke (9 year old) since the 7 year old Yang Peiyi was deemed not cute enough


9. Personal:

Hot: Reached 21th birthday
Cold: Reached 21th birthday


10. [Put Your Own Here]


Hot:
Cold:

Your list of Hot and Cold 2008:

From: Speedcat Hollydale
General Event
Hot: Jessica Biel
Cold: The planet! (It is really getting colder)

"Really? In this part of the world, the weather is getting hotter everyday! (It's indeed Hot and Cold list) I somehow had a hunch that you like Jessica Biel. LOL"

From: Faisal Admar
Work
Hot: Compliment from Branch Director
Cold: Someone backstabbing me

"Walamak! Congrats on the compliment! Sorry about the backstabbing though. Hope 2009 will bring you more success in your career :)"

From: Hafidz
Drinks
Hot: Cappuccino
Cold: Milo

"I can't remember the last time I had the real Milo drinks. Hehe. Nowadays, they used lots of fake branded flava. Just imagine how ridiculous it is. We even had fake branded drinks!"

From: D2Z
Personal
hot : i'm hot thought :p
cold : sick from last year till new year

"Hah! Finally there is someone who understand my feeling (and sickness). LOL. Get well soon bro!"

From: YAN^S
Unclassified
Hot: nothing
Cold: nothing

"Hurm.. A lame year for you my friend? Hehe"

From: iWalk
Personal
Hot: many
Cold:money

"Economy seems to be the hardest next year. I am preparing for the worst. You should too!"

From: Waliz
Personal
Hot : my new car
Cold : the balance of my bank account

"Wow! New car! You should blog about it! I want to know all of it! I must put extra pressure to my parents this year so that they will buy me my own car. They have been postponed it for a year now while my friends are flashing their new rides *one of them here too! Haha*"

From: Monica
Personal
Hot: Christmas
Cold: New Year

"and I am guessing tonnes of cool gifts for you this Christmas? You must be well behaved last year. Hehehe :)"

From: lilyto lilo
Personal
Hot: new year
Cold: last year

"Hehe. Where did you celebrate your New Year?"

From: Kuropii
Personal
Hot : celebrating 1st anniversary of my fight with someone
Cold : I'm getting older

"Hahaha. I wonder what the fight is about until you have an anniversary counted down. LOL. Anyway, Happy Anniversary!"

Please remember that this is my own personal opinions. Even though I hate criticism, I could use some of it to improve my Hot and Cold List 2008! Do share with us what do you think that will suit the number 10th spot the most? I will link you up after this. Happy New Year everybody! Welcome 2009!

First Commenter:

(Whoever won the most First Commenter contests will be shown under my Entercard box for a month!)

Bluecrystaldude

If you find this blog is interesting enough, do subscribe to Hot Shit Form Here by Email! I would be very happy!

Terror in Surburia: Campaigns Waged Against Neighborhoods By Antisocial Kids

Anti-Social Behavior of Young Children:
Turns USA Small Towns into Disturbia



A recent Dear Abby contained a plea from "Afraid in Wisconsin" who expressed concerns about the behavior of a new neighbor's 11-yr-old son. This letter highlighted the plight of many who live in a suburbia across America: antisocial kids who terrorize their neighborhoods, and the inability to deal with them.

"Afraid in Wisconsin" wrote how new neighbors had built a home on the lot next door and the "antisocial behavior" of their 11-yr-old son. How the boy had tried to coax "Afraid's" dog into his yard, played roughly with their three small children, and used vulgar language with their 8-yr-old daughter. "Afraid" noted that other neighbors had seen the boy abuse his dog and "other animals". When "Afraid" had approached the boy's mother, "Afraid" was told that her son "wouldn't behave that way".

Here is Dear Abby's answer to "Afraid in Wisconsin":

"DEAR AFRAID: You have described a child who is emotionally disturbed and parents who are in denial. Because the neighbors have seen him abuse animals, a report should be made to the police and the department of animal welfare in your community. This boy has no empathy for others and needs professional help. Until he gets it, you are wise to be concerned about your children. Keep a watchful eye."

Parents such as "Afraid in Wisconsin" face the same plight that countless other families endure in neighborhoods across America: the effects of an antisocial kid's behavior on the neighborhood where he resides.

Antisocial Behavior

According to Donald Black, M.D., Antisocial Personality, or ASP, is a disorder related to a "guiltless pattern of social irresponsibility" which begins in early childhood or adolescence. Antisocial behaviors range from "relatively minor acts, such as lying or cheating, to heinous acts, including torture, rape and murder". Black makes the observation that ASP is rarely acknowledged or recognized:

"As psychiatrist Hervey Cleckley once noted, the antisocial person is “the forgotten man of psychiatry who probably causes more unhappiness and more perplexity to the public than all mentally disordered patients combined.” "

This also applies to suburbia and the antisocial kids currently terrorizing neighbors and neighborhoods.

Clark wrote that the "causes" of ASP are still unknown. Evidence of ASP, a mental health issue, point to inherited traits, as well as a "hereditary basis", and environmental factors.

Theories as to the cause of ASP include abnormalities in development of the nervous system whose symptoms may include persistent bed wetting and hyperactivity. Another theory is mothers who smoked during pregnancy resulting in lowered oxygen levels to the fetus.

Abnormal brain function and neurotransmitter serotonin have been linked to impulsive and aggressive behavior.

"Social and home environment" may also be key factors relating to ASP: parents of antisocial kids "show a high level of antisocial behavior". Homes of ASP kids may include alcoholism, divorce, criminal activity, or an absence of a parent. Parenting may be "erratic or inappropriate discipline and inadequate supervision". Antisocial parents "lack motivation" in supervising their children. Children raised in this atmosphere can become "self-absorbed" and "indifferent to others" as well as have "little regard for rules". Lacking proper roles models, ASP kids solve disputes using aggression. ASP kids also fail to develop empathy.

There are many parents who raised their ASP child in a caring and loving environment. These parents face a bewildering and daunting task of getting treatment for a child who has a behavior problem whose cause is still unknown. These parents do not negate the concerns of their neighbors. It's when neighbors, who are dealing with an ASP kid terrorizing the neighborhood, find the parent, or parents, are in denial or simply "doesn't care" what their ASP kid is up to when frustration sets in.

The mother of the boy whom "Afraid" wrote Dear Abby about, claimed her son wouldn't "behave that way". The mother inferred that "Afraid", who contacted her about her son's behavior, was making up "stories" about her son. The mother, who in essence had called "Afraid" a liar, was in denial about her son's behavior.

"Afraid" encountered what many other neighbors across America have discovered to their dismay: some parents are unwilling to deal with their antisocial kids. This left "Afraid" with the problem of having to deal with a "creepy" kid in the neighborhood who may or may not harm "Afraid's" children. The dynamics of "Afraid's" neighborhood had changed from what was once a safe and happy haven to raise one's kids, to having to "watch" a neighbor's child in order to protect one's own children or pets.

Cases such as the one above are becoming more commonplace--or at least are more publicized.

What other recent cases have troubled quiet neighborhoods?

Continue reading: Terror in Surburia: Campaigns Waged Against Neighborhoods By Antisocial Kids

by LBG
Source: Terror in Surburia: Campaigns Waged Against Neighborhoods By Antisocial Kids

Real Housewives of Orange County: Gretchen's Tragedy, Glass Houses

Real Housewives, Orange County version:
Nice Guy Jeff Beitzel Passes Away
Who's Throwing Stones?



It's season four of Housewives with two new additions: 30-yr-old Gretchen Rossi and Lynne Curtain. Curtain replaced Lauri Waring Peterson after Peterson opted to drop out of the show when her son was arrested for drug possession.

The storyline surrounding Gretchen has her dealing with her boyfriend Jeff's bout with leukemia. Jeff Beitzel, who was fifty-four, passed away in September.

Beitzel served as Chief Operating Officer and a member of the Board of Directors of Quantuam Fuel System Technologies. A mechanical enigineer, Beitzel worked for Ford Motor Co. until 1983. After leaving Ford, Beitzel founded several automotive companies prior to working for Quantuam.

Jeff Beitzel's three children from a former marriage were on the most recent episode. The kids, all in their teens, had flown in to be with their father while he was in the hospital. All three of Jeff's children wanted to be there with their father. They also spoke highly of Gretchen and how she had been by their father's side during the eight months since he had been diagnosed with cancer.

Last week Gretchen took some time off and spent a couple of days with her family at Bear Lake for the Fourth.

So far new Housewife Lynne has been in a shopping mode on the show with her two teenage daughters. The latest trip on episode 5 had Lynne plunking down $1800 for eight articles of clothing and looking to buy a BMW for her oldest daughter when she turned 18.

Lynne met Gretchen for lunch where Gretchen tried to get Lynne to tell how old she was. Lynne, who keeps in great shape with activities such as surfing and kick boxing, wouldn't tell Gretchen her age. On the first show featuring Lynne she admitted she was "obsessed" with "staying young" even though raising her two daughters, ages 16 and 18, have probably put a few gray hairs on her head.

On tonight's show, Lynne's oldest daughter, Raquel, turned 18. Lynne and her husband of 18 years, Frank, held a luncheon for Raquel where they presented her with a cute little silver BMW. Earlier, before the party, Raquel demanded her younger sister Alexa take off the white dress she had chosen to wear. Raquel wanted to wear the white one and for Alexa to wear a blue dress that Raquel was supposed to wear. Such is the drama of having teens, as Raquel pouted her way into getting the white dress while Alexa wore the blue one.

Alexa was in tears at the party after she met her boyfriend in the parking lot of the restaurant and her boyfriend told her the dress made her look like a "stripper". Lynne was shocked at his comment as it was her dress. And yes, the dress did look as though it belonged more on a stripper than a 16-yr-old girl.

What side is Tamra Barney showing this season?

Continue reading: Real Housewives of Orange County: Gretchen's Tragedy and Glass Houses

by LBG
Source: Real Housewives of Orange County: Gretchen's Tragedy and Glass Houses

Hard Boiled [1992]

John Woo, before set sailing for Hollywood, bid farewell to the Hong Kong film industry with Hard Boiled – often referred to by the aficionados of the director’s works as THE action movie. The male bonding between a hot-headed trigger-happy cop and a cold and seemingly corrupt undercover agent is what makes this movie special. The stylized action sequences and kinetic editing style, too, are vintage John Woo stuff. But where the movie is immensely entertaining to watch, it never manages to reach levels that would imprint the movie to one’s mind. The chemistry between Chow Yan-Fat and Tony Leung, as the two diametrically different anti-heroes, is amazing. But where the first two acts are memorable for the slow and evocative buildup punctuated with spectacular sequences, the last act, on hindsight, seems a botched-up attempt to an explosive climax. Thus, this movie would be remembered more as Woo’s nostalgic tribute to, and guilty pleasure of lovers of HK action flicks, than as a standalone work of high merit.





Director: John Woo
Genre: Action/Buddy Film/Police Movie
Language: Chinese
Country: China (Hong Kong)

R.I.P. Harold Pinter

I recall my father telling me when I was young that I had to see this phenomenal movie coming on TV. It was called Sleuth. It starred a young, scheming Michael Caine and an old, diabolical Lawrence Olivier. It was a battle of wits and cons and strategies to the death! I loved every minute of that movie and still do.

Years later, I recall seeing a movie in the theaters called Betrayal. It was a love story that went in reverse. And to this day, I recall what Ebert wrote, “The absolutely brilliant thing about Betrayal is that it is a love story told backward. There is a lot in this movie that is wonderful -- the performances, the screenplay by Harold Pinter -- but what makes it all work is the structure. When Pinter's stage version of Betrayal first appeared, back in the late 1970s, there was a tendency to dismiss his reverse chronology as a gimmick. Not so. It is the very heart and soul of this story. It means that we in the audience know more about the unhappy romantic fortunes of Jerry and Robert and Emma at every moment than they know about themselves. Even their joy is painful to see… The Betrayal structure strips away all artifice. It shows, heartlessly, that the very capacity for love itself is sometimes based on betraying not only other loved ones, but even ourselves.”

Pinter got an Oscar nom for that screenplay.

Those are my two fondest memories of Harold Pinter.

Here’s a nice Sky News tribute:



There is a great collection of articles in The Guardian including the text of his Nobel prize acceptance speech. GreenCine has a great round-up. There is also HaroldPinter.org and the Wikipedia entry.

But I have this wonderful old book called Playwrights at Work. It’s a collection of Paris Review interviews of many great modern playwrights. Following Pinter’s death, I pulled it out, dusted it off, and re-read Pinter’s interview, which took place in the fall of 1966.

Then I read articles and obits all around the web about Pinter. Somehow, my crazy mind made connections between what the critics in the media had to say about Pinter and what Pinter had to say (in 1966) about those very same topics. So I’ve decided to do something completely off-the-wall and quote various paragraphs I came across in the media about Pinter, which is in black, and then follow that paragraph with the words of Pinter himself about that very same topic from his 1966 Paris Review interview, which is in blue.

Anyway, hope you enjoy it.

-MM

-----------------------------------


First, The Telegraph wrote:

In his most masterly works, The Caretaker (1960), The Homecoming (1965) and No Man’s Land (1975), he created a new atmosphere and tension within the conventional theatrical form by withholding information about characters and motives hitherto supposed essential to the audience’s pleasure. The plays were usually set within the confines of a room, seedy in his earlier work but increasingly elegant later. His dramas brought into confrontation a variety of persons, from vagrants and prostitutes to middle-class married couples and self-proclaimed poets, in circumstances bordering on violence or menace and in language that was precise, elegant and often very funny…

But what gave distinction to all Pinter’s writing for the stage and screen was its fascinating opacity. The curtain would rise on a realistic, domestic situation but within minutes the truth about it — and whatever might be gleaned of the people in it — would be called unconsciously into question by their statements. At first, the method maddened spectators and critics alike. The ground seemed to be shifting from under their feet. Pinter famously refused to explain what his plays meant, although he denied deliberate obfuscation…

Pinter: It’s a great mistake to pay any attention to [the critics]. I think, you see, that this is an age of such overblown publicity and overemphatic pinning down. I’m a very good example of a writer who can write, but I’m not as good as all that. I’m just a writer; and I think that I’ve been overblown tremendously because there’s a dearth of really fine writing, and people tend to make too much of a meal. All you can do is try to write as well as you can.


Peter Marks wrote:

Although he expressed the views of a pacifist, Pinter wrote as if he held his finger on the pin of a grenade. In modernist classics such as The Homecoming, Old Times and No Man's Land, he devised characters who spoke in elliptical asides and enigmatic bursts. Violence of some nature was never out of the realm of possibility, even in his quietest plays. For Pinter was a connoisseur of subtext, of letting a story unfold on a living room set while a more savage one simmered in the crawl spaces of the mind. His characters routinely rattle each other with what never gains utterance.

Pinter: Of course I can’t remember exactly how a given play developed in my mind. I think what happens is that I write in a very high state of excitement and frustration. I follow what I see on the paper in front of me – one sentence after another. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a dim, possible overall idea – the image that starts off doesn’t just engender what happens immediately, it engenders the possibility of an overall happening, which carries me through. I’ve got an idea of what might happen – sometimes I’m absolutely right, but on many occasions I’ve been proved wrong by what does actually happen. Sometimes I’m going along and I find myself writing, “C. comes in,” when I didn’t know that he was going to come in; he had to come in at that point, that’s all.


Michael Billington wrote:

My own memories of Harold, and it's hard to think of him in more formal terms, are entirely happy. We'd had a relatively distant professional relationship for many years. I'd reviewed his plays, sometimes favourably, sometimes not. (I made a spectacular ass of myself over the original production of Betrayal.) Then in 1992 I was approached by Faber and Faber to write a book about him. What was intended as a short book about his plays and politics turned, thanks to his openness, into a full-scale biography. I talked to Harold himself at great length, to his friends and colleagues. And what I discovered was that his plays, so often dubbed enigmatic and mysterious, were nearly all spun out of memories of his own experience. If they connected with audiences the world over, it was because he understood the insecurity of human life and the sense that it was often based on psychological and territorial battles…

Interviewer: Do you have any interest in psychology?

Pinter: No.

Billington [cont’d]: Pinter's contribution to drama was immense. He had a poet's ear for language, an almost flawless sense of dramatic rhythm and the ability to distil the conflicts of daily life…

Pinter: I don’t know what kind of characters my plays will have until they… well, until they are. Until they indicate to me what they are. I don’t conceptualize in any way. Once I’ve got the clues I follow them – that’s my job, really, to follow the clues… I always write three drafts, but you have to leave it eventually. There comes a point when you say that's it, I can't do anything more. The only play which gets remotely near to a structural entity which satisfies me is The Homecoming. The Birthday Party and The Caretaker have too much writing... I want to iron it down, eliminate things. Too many words irritate me sometimes, but I can't help them, they just seem to come out - out of the fellow's mouth. I don't really examine my works too much, but I'm aware that quite often in what I write, some fellow at some point says an awful lot.


NYT’s Mel Gussow and Ben Brantley wrote:

In more than 30 plays — written between 1957 and 2000 and including masterworks like The Birthday Party, The Caretaker, The Homecoming and Betrayal — Mr. Pinter captured the anxiety and ambiguity of life in the second half of the 20th century with terse, hypnotic dialogue filled with gaping pauses and the prospect of imminent violence. Along with another Nobel winner, Samuel Beckett, his friend and mentor, Mr. Pinter became one of the few modern playwrights whose names instantly evoke a sensibility. The adjective Pinteresque has become part of the cultural vocabulary as a byword for strong and unspecified menace.

Pinter: That word! These damn words and that word Pinteresque particularly – I don’t know what they’re bloody well talking about! I think it’s a great burden for me to carry, and for other writers to carry… Oh, very occasionally I’ve thought listening to something, hello, that rings a bell, but it goes no further than that. I really do think that writers write on… just write, and I find it difficult to believe I’m any kind of influence on other writers. I’ve seen very little evidence of it, anyway; other people seem to see more evidence of it than I do.


The Times wrote:

Later he was to act memorably in a number of his own plays, and in films. But it is out of his early acting experience that almost certainly grew his deep and probably intuitive understanding of how a few words can be made to resonate with a wealth of half-meanings and suggested meanings — of how to disturb, grip and amuse an audience and to challenge their perceptions. David Hare has written that Pinter never offers audiences “the easy handhold with which they might be able to take some simplified view of the events on stage”, and that “it is this willingness to say ‘take it or leave it’ which finally makes his work so inimitable”.

Pinter: Watching first nights, though I’ve seen quite a few by now, is… a nerve racking experience. It’s not a question of whether the play goes well or badly. It’s not the audience reaction, it’s my reaction. I’m rather hostile toward audiences – I don’t care for large bodies of people collected together. Everyone knows that audiences vary enormously, it’s a mistake to care too much about them. The thing one should be concerned with is whether the performance has expressed what one set out to express in writing the play. It sometimes does.


Phil Nugent wrote:

But Pinter's strongest impact in movies came through screenplay adaptations of others' work--and he did a surprisingly large number of them, especially as his standard of living improved. Among the ones that stand out are his adaptation of Penelope Mortimer's novel The Pumpkin Eater for Jack Clayton's 1964 film, and the first of his many collaborations with the director Joseph Losey, The Servant (1963) and Accident (1967), both starring Dirk Bogarde. He also wrote Losey's 1970 The Go-Between and prepared a script for a film based on Marcel Proust's Remembrance of Things Past for which Losey was never able to obtain funding; it was published in book form as The Proust Screenplay, and eventually adapted to the stage. His other screenplay credits include The Quiller Memorandum, The Last Tycoon, The French Lieutenant's Woman, Turtle Diary, Reunion, The Handmaid's Tale, The Comfort of Strangers, the 1993 version of Kafka's The Trial, and his final credit, the 2007 remake of Sleuth. He also directed Alan Bates in the 1973 movie of Simon Gray's play Butley.

Pinter: I’ve done some film work, but for some reason or other I haven’t found it very easy to satisfy myself on an original idea for a film. Tea Party, which I did for television is actually a film, cinematic, I wrote it like that. Television and films are simpler than the theater – if you get tired of a scene you just drop it and go on to another one. (I’m exaggerating, of course.) What is so different about the stage is that you’re just there, stuck – there are your characters stuck on the stage, you’ve got to live with them and deal with them. I’m not a very inventive writer in the sense of using the technical devices other playwrights do – look at Brecht! I can’t use the stage the way he does, I just haven’t got that kind of imagination, so I find myself stuck with these characters who are either sitting or standing, and they’ve either got to walk out of a door, or come through a door, and that’s about all they can do.


David Edgar wrote:

Playwrights tend to start out political and end up personal. Harold Pinter appeared to follow the opposite course. Marrying continental absurdism with British popular comedy, he changed how dialogue was written in British theatre as definitively as Cézanne changed how paintings were painted in France. Complementing his dialogue, his great speeches turn the mundane (in No Man's Land, the one-way system around London's Bolsover Street) into poetry. Despite this, those of us who followed him rejected his elliptical style and what we saw as the solipsistic apoliticism of absurdism ("Nothing means anything, nothing can be done"). So it was a surprise when, in later life, Pinter became a prominent voice of political dissent. That is the conventional view, and there's a lot to it. But it underestimates the political power of the earlier work…

Interviewer: Do you read things written about you?

Pinter: Yes. Most of the time I don’t know what they’re talking about.

Ghajini [2008]

Bollywood, in the last few years, has developed a ready-made formula for quick and easy success – plagiarize a famous/cult foreign flick, suitably modify/delete contents that viewers might find incomprehensible or controversial, ‘Indian-ize’ them by adding songs, dances, romance and comedy, and voila, your movie is ready to go for shoot. Ghajini is the latest in this crappy trend, with the source being the brilliant, mind-bending thriller Memento, but bereft of the bravura filmmaking of the Nolan classic. Ghajini is filled with inane characterizations, a complete lack of an eye for detail or rationale, filled with comic-book like action sequences that are a straight lift of B-grade Tamil movies and containing more bloopers than the makings of sitcoms; consequently we had a few more laughs (make that a lot) than perhaps was the director’s intent. And to make matters worse, the movie stars Amir '8-Pack' Khan, who, with his fame for Method acting, had created an enormous hype prior to release, thus making the show that much more ludicrous. Being afflicted with ‘Short Term Memory Loss’ can be a boon when you are watching a movie like this.





Director: A. R. Murugadoss
Genre: Action/Revenge Movie/Romance/Musical/B-Film
Language: Hindi
Country: India

Bogatzke - Never Ending Light (EP) (2008)

Ein Orchester eröffnet die EP Never Ending Light vom Ein-Mann-Projekt Bogatzke, doch nur für wenige Sekunden, wie bei der bedrohlichsten Stelle in einem Horrorfilm erklingt es. Doch es wird unterbrochen von einem nicht minder treibendem Bass und einem elektronischen Beat der mitreisst. Helle Keyboardtöne und eine wabernde Gitarre im Hintergrund ergeben so eine bisweilen hypnotische Mischung, bis das ganze noch durch Streicher komplettiert wird und so eigentlich schon nichts mehr vermissen lässt. Never Ending Light (I got the scars to remind me) heißt der erste Song, welcher wirklich aufhorchen lässt. Guter Einstieg.

Verzerrte „Radio-Schnipsel“ gepaart mit Bassbeats zeigen den Beginn des nächsten Songs an. Eigentlich ein ruhiger Song. Verhallende Gitarren übereinander gestapelt, einen netten Beat darüber gelegt. Klingt nach einem einfachen Rezept. Ist es auch. Aber wie so oft schmecken die einfachen Gerichte am besten. Nicht nur bei Oma. Auch so ein unbekannter Nachwuchs-Koch, wie der hinter Bogatzke, schafft das. Kein aufregender aber ein umso schönerer Song steckt hinter 28:06:42:12.
Doch es geht sofort weiter. Schnelle, bestimmt tanzbare Beats werden verbunden mit immer hektischer geloopten Aufnahmen des englischen Mannes der „Kein Anschluss unter dieser Nummer“- Frau. Es geht so weiter bis man denkt jetzt explodiert gleich etwas, doch dann wandelt sich alles wieder. Nicht ganz alles, der elektronische Rythmusgeber bleibt aber die Samples werden gegen „Monoesque“ Gitarrenläufe eingetauscht bis sie am Ende doch wieder hinzu stoßen und bridg(e)nd ausklingt.

Bis man schaut ist man schon am letzten Song angelangt, es wird kurz eingewählt (diesmal wohl die richtige Nummer) und los geht’s. Wie der Titel el tormento infundado erahnen lassen hätte können gibt’s hier Gitarrenrythmen in Blues / Jazz Manier. Als Kontrast dazu werden immer wieder Samples und elektronische Spielereien eingebaut und nach fast genau vier Minuten groovigem Sound kommt das etwas plötzliche Ende.

Die erste EP von Bogatzke ist recht kurz. Aber genau das macht sie unter anderem auch gut. Man hätte die Songs in die Länge ziehen können, dann wären sie aber abwechslungsarm und ohne Ziel. Doch so wie hier, bleiben sie knackig und frisch, auch wenn ab und an etwas ältere Zutaten verwendet wurden.

In der nächsten Ausgabe unseres Partners, dem DigitalKunstRasen Netlabel und Online-Magazin, werden auch Reviews von uns veröffentlicht. Also seid gespannt!

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For the first few seconds an orchestra opens the EP Never Ending Light from Bogatzke, a one-man-projekt, sounding like the most threatening scene in a horror movie. The scene is then ruptured by a driving bass and an electronic beat sweeps one away. Bright tones from the keyboard and wafting guitars in the background form a hypnotic mixture, until it will be completed by strings and there's nothing left to miss. Never Ending Light (I got the scars to remind me) is the title of the first song, which really pricks one's ears. Fantastic introduction.

Distorted radio-snippets paired with bassbeats indicate the beginning of the next track. A mellow song actually. Reverbated guitars stacked on top of each other, a nice beat beneath it. Sounds like an easy formula? It is. But often the easiest dishes taste the best - not only at Grandmother's. Also the unknown up-and-coming cooks, like the one behind Bogatzke can do it. 28:06:42:12 is not a really exciting song, instead it is of great beauty.
But it goes on immediately. Fast, certainly danceable beats are joined by hectic, looped recordings of the english husband of the "the number you have dialled is unavailable" woman. It goes on until one thinks something might explode in a moment, but everything changes once again. Not exactly everything, for the electronic giver of the rhythm stays, while the samples are traded in for MONO-esque guitar lines just to be joined in by the samples again and everything dies away into the bridge(e)nd.

Already arrived at the last song, dialling the number (probably the right one this time) and off we are. Like the title el tormento infunando might might reveal, there's guitar lines in bluesy/jazzy feel to be found. As a contrast every now and then samples and electronic gimmicks are built in and after almost exactly four minutes of groovy sound the sudden end reached.

Bogatzke's first EP is relatively short. But it is exactly this, among lots of other things, which makes it worth your time. The songs could have been stretched, but they'd remain monotous and without a goal. But executed like here, they stay crips and fresh, even when older ingridients might have been used.

The next issue of our partner, the DigitalKunstRasen netlabel and Webzine, will feature Post Rock Community Reviews. So be on the lookout!

Genre: Electronic, Post Rock
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Some Pedestrians - These Were Our Dreams (2008)

„Hello.

We are Some Pedestrians.

We make music with our intruments.

I have a bird in a cage.

Sometimes i take it out and i play with the bird

Sometimes i also kill older people because i dont like them and because they smell. please dont throw rocks at us. thank you“



Einige Fußgänger? Diese 5 Jungs aus Belgien sind nicht auf die Fresse gefallen, und haben sichtlich Spaß am musizieren. Wenn ich die Kommentare auf der Myspace betrachte und zugleich das Album genieße, kommt mir nur eins in den Sinn. Komiker hinter knallharten Riffs, brachialen Drumrhythmen und einer Stimme, die sogar den härtesten Nagel aus dem Brett das die Welt bedeutet löst. Und genau das scheinen sie vorzuhaben. Die Welt wie wir sie kennen komplett auf den Kopf zu stellen! „Punk eben“ würden jetzt viele behaupten. „Nein, mehr als nur Punk.“ sag ich. Durch zu viel Selbstironie läuft man oft Gefahr, dass die Musik, die hier als Revolution gegen altgewordene Leute zelebriert wird, ins Abseits gestellt und nicht mit der entsprechenden Würdigung belohnt wird. Bei „Some Pedestrians“ schaukeln sich die 2 Attitüden gegenseitig hoch und kommen an der Spitze der Unterhaltung an. Dass Jurgen (Vox), Maarten (Rhythm Guitar), Maxime (Lead Guitar), Branko Capla (Bass) und Thomas (Drums & Backing) so viel gute Laune nicht nur in Notenform verbreiten finde ich wirklich sehr geil und macht das Album gleich doppelt hörenswert. „Wer Ärsche getreten haben will, bekommt Ärsche getreten! Wer nicht, erst recht!“ – Zitat von mir.



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„Hello.

We are Some Pedestrians.

We make music with our intruments.

I have a bird in a cage.

Sometimes i take it out and i play with the bird

Sometimes i also kill older people because i dont like them and because they smell. please dont throw rocks at us. thank you“



Some Pedestrians? Those 5 lads out of belgium aren’t mincing one’s words and really have fun to make music. When i read their funny comments on the myspace-page and simultaneously enjoy this release only one thought comes to my mind. Comedians covered in two-fisted riffs, brute drumrhythms and a voice that even the hardest nail can’t stand to get dismantled out of the world-representing-board. And that is precisely what their plan seems to be. To flip the world as we know it completely upside down. A few one would say „Just Punk“. I say „No, more than only Punk“. Because of too much self-mockery one often runs the risk that the music, which one is funnily celebrated by SP as a revolution against elderly people, will be lain aside and won’t be honored with the deserved appraisal. SP have the ability that those 2 mentioned attitudes forces up each other and finally reach the top of entertainment. For me it’s really amazing that Jurgen (Vox), Maarten (Rhythm Guitar), Maxime (Lead Guitar), Branko Capla (Bass) and Thomas (Drums & Backing) are disseminating so much high spirits in notes and with this option „These Were Our Dreams“ became twice worth hearing. „Someone who wants to be kicked in the ass, will be kicked in the ass! Anyone who does not, even more!“ – quotation by me.

Genre: Mathcore, Experimental

320 kbit/s

(43:37)



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PW: postrockcommunity.blogspot.com



Some Pedestrians UK Tour August 2008

ihopeyousuffer - Gold, Oil And Drugs (2008)

Nach dem herausragenden Debut, this is a collection of people to ruin, das auf dem Netlabel Pocket Change Records veröffentlicht wurde, stellt Joseph Munoz sein neues Album zum Download bereit.
Ein Drone-lastiges Post Rock Album, mit tollen Gitarren, die in ruhig Teilen meist in den Hintergrund treten, bei Ausbrüchen aber die kämpfende Front darstellen, die mit einem wegweisenden Schlagzeug als General im Hintergrund, in den Krieg schreiten. Verlust, Tod, Hass. Die Emotionen des Schlachtfeldes auf einer CD, inmitten der Feind, der gnadenlos gelyncht wird: I hope you suffer!

After the outstanding debut, this is a collection of people to ruin, which was released on the Pocket Change Records netlabel, Joseph Munoz provides his new album for free download.
A drone-oriented post rock album, with wonderful guitars, which back out in the quiet parts, in the outbursts, however, they mark the battling front line, going to war with pathbreaking drums as the colonel general in the background. Loss, death, hatred. The emotions of the battlefield on a CD, amidst the enemy, who is lynched mercilessly: I hope you suffer.

Genre: Ambient / Experimental / Post Rock
(33:18)
128 kBit/s

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PW: postrockcommunity.blogspot.com

21 Grams [2003]

Alejandro Gonzales Inarritu’s first English feature and his sophomore effort, 21 Grams is as bleak a movie as it gets. Inarritu’s signature multiple-storyline-plot is continued in this disorienting tale of three individuals – a grief-stricken lady who has recently lost her husband, a man who has had a close shave with death, and a reformed criminal turned born again Christian – all struggling to make a life out of their existences bereft of joy, hope or solace, and striving in futility for redemption. The emotionally draining (and I daresay, extremely demanding) completely fragmented, non-linear narrative imparts an immense sense of grief encompassing the troubled souls, yet it also allows the viewers to be passive, impartial observers without getting sucked into their glum, claustrophobic and forever spiraling lives. Naomi Watts has given a truly unforgettable and emotionally charged performance (reminiscent of her superlative career-making turn in Mullholand Drive); Sean Penn and Benicio Del Toro, too, have given memorable renditions in this extremely well-enacted film. Though the movie lacks the explosive punch or kick-in-the-gut of Amores Perros, 21 Grams nonetheless manages quite an emotional impact. The title refers to an experiment which allegedly determined that the weight of a person's soul is 21 grams.





Director: Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu
Genre: Drama/Psychological Drama/Ensemble Film
Language: English
Country: US

25 Classic Monologues in Cinema

Hey guys,

I dedicate this article to Joshua James. As much as I preach about visual storytelling and “show, don’t tell,” Josh is quick to remind me that a lot of dialogue isn’t wrong so long as it’s good dialogue, and that’s very true. Today’s article will only reinforce his point.

A link on my sidebar that gets little love is Colin’s Movie Monologues, which is a collection of cinema’s great speeches. The list below, a smattering of samples from his website, does not represent the personal favorites of mine. But rather, I chose the widest variety I could – well-known, little-known, speeches, confessions, tirades, breakdowns, etc. I tried to look for a consistent pattern of how, when, and why they are used and ultimately concluded that to create a simple formula for monologues is to belittle their power. All I can say is that generally A) there should be strong emotion behind all the words or in the context of an emotionally charged moment, B) the character’s voice – not yours – should shine through the speech, C) you should have a damn good reason for having it, and D) you better knock that speech out of the ball park.

The list only goes up to films that begin with the letter “J.” In any case, I hope you enjoy them.

-MM

--------------------------------

Adaptation
Charlie Kaufman: Do I have an original thought in my head, my bald head? Maybe if I were happier, my hair wouldn’t be falling out. Life is short; I need to make the most of it. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I’m a walking cliché. I really need to go to the doctor and have my leg checked. There's something wrong. Oh well. The dentist called again, I'm way overdue. If I stopped putting things off, I would be happier. All I do is sit on my fat ass, if my ass wasn’t fat, I would be happier. I wouldn’t have to wear these shirts with the tails out all the time; like that’s fooling anyone. Fat ass. I should start jogging again. Five miles a day; really do it this time. Maybe rock climbing; I need to turn my life around. What do I need to do? I need to fall in love. I need to have a girlfriend. I need to read more; improve myself. Maybe I should learn Russian or something. Or take up an instrument. I could speak Chinese. I could be the screenwriter who speaks Chinese and plays the oboe. That would be cool. I should get my hair cut short; stop trying to fool myself and everyone else into thinking I have a full head of hair. How pathetic is that? Just be real. Confident. Isn't that what women are attracted to? Men don’t have to be attractive. But that's not true, ''specially these days. There's almost as much pressure on men as there is on women these days. Why should I be made to feel like I should apologize for my existence? Maybe it's my brain chemistry. Maybe that’s what's wrong with me. Bad chemistry... all my problems and anxiety can be reduced to a chemical imbalance or some kind of misfiring synapses. I need to get help from them; but I'll still be ugly though. Nothing is going to change that.

African Queen
Charlie Allnutt: Well, Miss, 'ere we are, everything ship-shape, like they say. Great thing to 'ave, a lyedy, with clean 'abits. Sets me a good example. A man alone, 'e gets to livin' like a bloomin' og. Then, too, with me, it's always -- put things orf. Never do todye wot ya can put orf til tomorrer. (he chuckles and looks at her, expecting her to smile; no reaction from Rose) But you: business afore pleasure, every time. Do yer pers'nal laundry, make yerself spic an' span, get all the mendin' out o' the way, an' then, an ' hone-ly then, set down to a nice quiet hour with the Good-Book. (he watches for something; still no response from Rose) I tell you, it's a model for me, like. An inspiration. I ain't got that ole engine so clean in years; inside an' out, Miss. Just look at 'er, Miss! She practically sparkles. Myself too. Guess you ain't never 'ad a look at me without whiskers an' all cleaned up, 'ave you, Miss? Freshens you up, too; if I only 'ad clean clothes, like you. Now you: why you could be at 'igh tea. (no recognition from Rose, as if she doesn't hear him at all) 'Ow 'bout some tea, Miss, come to think of it? Don't you stir; I'll get it ready. (a pause) 'Ow's the book, Miss? (no answer) Not that I ain't read it, some -- that is to say, me ole lyedy read me stories out of it. (no response; another pause) 'Ow 'bout reading it out loud, eh, Miss? (silence) I'd like to 'ave a little spiritual comfort m'self. (Charlie loses his patience with her silence, he flares up, frustrated) An' you call yerself a Christian! You 'ear me, Miss. (he leans in toward her, getting louder and louder, until he's yelling at the top of his lungs) Don't yer?! Don't yer?! HUH??

Amadeus
Salieri: My plan was so simple that it terrified me. First I must get the death mass and then I, I must achieve his death. His funeral! Imagine it, all of Vienna there, Mozart's coffin, Mozart's little coffin in the middle, and then suddenly, in that silence, music! A divine music bursts out over them all. A great mass of death! Requiem mass for Wolfgang Mozart, composed by his dear friend, Antonio Salieri! Oh what sublimity, what depth, what passion in the music! Salieri has been touched by God at last. And God is forced to listen!! Powerless, powerless to stop it! I, for once in the end, laughing at him!! The only thing that bothered me was the actual killing. How does one do that? Hmmm? How does one kill a man? Well it's one thing to dream about it; very different when you, when you have to do it with your own hands.

American Psycho
Patrick Bateman: Do you like Phil Collins? I've been a big Genesis fan ever since the release of their 1980 album, Duke. Before that, I really didn't understand any of their work. Too artsy, too intellectual. It was on Duke where, uh, Phil Collins' presence became more apparent. I think Invisible Touch was the group's undisputed masterpiece. It's an epic meditation on intangibility. At the same time, it deepens and enriches the meaning of the preceding three albums. Christy, take off your robe. Listen to the brilliant ensemble playing of Banks, Collins and Rutherford. You can practically hear every nuance of every instrument. Sabrina, remove your dress. In terms of lyrical craftsmanship, the sheer songwriting, this album hits a new peak of professionalism. Sabrina, why don't you, uh, dance a little. Take the lyrics to Land of Confusion. In this song, Phil Collins addresses the problems of abusive political authority. In Too Deep is the most moving pop song of the 1980s, about monogamy and commitment. The song is extremely uplifting. Their lyrics are as positive and affirmative as, uh, anything I've heard in rock. Christy, get down on your knees so Sabrina can see your ass. Phil Collins' solo career seems to be more commercial and therefore more satisfying, in a narrower way. Especially songs like In the Air Tonight and, uh, Against All Odds. Sabrina, don't just stare at it, eat it. But I also think Phil Collins works best within the confines of the group, than as a solo artist, and I stress the word artist. This is Sussudio, a great, great song, a personal favorite.

Apocalypse Now
Kurtz: I've seen the horror. Horrors that you've seen. But you have no right to call me a murderer. You have no right to call me a murderer. You have a right to kill me. You have a right to do that, but you have no right to judge me . It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror. Horror has a face, and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and mortal terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies. I remember when I was with Special Forces--it seems a thousand centuries ago--we went into a camp to inoculate it. The children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for polio, and this old man came running after us, and he was crying. He couldn't see. We went there, and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile--a pile of little arms. And I remember...I...I...I cried, I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out, I didn't know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it, I never want to forget. And then I realized--like I was shot...like I was shot with a diamond...a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought, "My God, the genius of that, the genius, the will to do that." Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they could stand that--these were not monsters, these were men, trained cadres, these men who fought with their hearts, who have families, who have children, who are filled wi th love--that they had this strength, the strength to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men, then our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral and at the same time were able to utilize their primordial i nstincts to kill without feeling, without passion, without judgment--without judgment. Because it's judgment that defeats us. I worry that my son might not understand what I've tried to be, and if I were to be killed, Willard, I would want someone to go to my home and tell my son everything. Everything I did, everything you saw, because there's nothing that I detest more than t he stench of lies. And if you understand me, Willard, you...you will do this for me.

Austin Powers
Therapist: Oh no, please, please, let's hear about your childhood.
Dr Evil: Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it's breathtaking, I suggest you try it.
Therapist: You know, we have to stop.

Blazing Saddles
Jim: Yeah, I was the kid...it got so that every pissant prairie punk who thought he could shoot a gun would ride into town to try out the Waco Kid. I must've killed more men than Cecil B Demille. Got pretty gritty. I started to hear the word draw in my sleep. Then one day, I was just walking down the street, and I heard a voice behind me say, "Reach for it Mister!" I spun around and there I was face to face with a six-year-old kid. Well I just threw my guns down and walked away....little bastard shot me in the ass!! So I limped to the nearest saloon, crawled into a whiskey bottle, and I've been there ever since.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s
Paul Varjak: You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to eachother, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.

The Breakfast Club
Andy: Do you guys know what I did to get in here? I taped Larry Lester's buns together. Yeah, you know him? Well then, you know how hairy he is, right? Well, when they pulled the tape off, most of his hair came off and some skin too. And the bizarre thing is, is that I did it for my old man. I tortured this poor kid because I wanted him to think I was cool. He's always going off about, you know, when he was in school, all the wild things he used to do, and I got the feeling that he was disappointed that I never cut loose on anyone, right? So, I'm sitting in the locker room and I'm taping up my knee and Larry's undressing a couple lockers down from me and he's kinda, kinda skinny, weak, and I started thinking about my father and his attitude about weakness, and the next thing I knew I, I jumped on top of him and started wailing on him. Then my friends, they just laughed and cheered me on. And afterwards, when I was sittin' in Vernon's office, all I could think about was Larry's father and Larry having to go home and explain what happened to him. And the humiliation, the fucking humiliation he must have felt. It must have been unreal. I mean, how do you apologize for something like that? There's no way. It's all because of me and my old man. God, I fucking hate him. He's like, he's like this mindless machine I can't even relate to anymore. "Andrew, you've got to be number one. I won't tolerate any losers in this family. Your intensity is for shit." You son of a bitch. You know, sometimes I wish my knee would give and I wouldn't be able to wrestle anymore. He could forget all about me.

Chasing Amy
Holden: I love you. And not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it. And it's not because you're unattainable. I love you. Very simple, very truly. You're the epitome of every attribute and quality I've ever looked for in another person. I know you think of me as just a friend, and crossing that line is the furthest thing from an option you'd ever consider. But I had to say it. I can't take this anymore. I can't stand next to you without wanting to hold you. I can't look into your eyes without feeling that longing you only read about in trashy romance novels. I can't talk to you without wanting to express my love for everything you are. I know this will probably queer our friendship -no pun intended- but I had to say it, because I've never felt this before, and I like who I am because of it. And if bringing it to light means we can't hang out anymore, then that hurts me. But I couldn't allow another day to go by without getting it out there, regardless of the outcome, which by the look on your face is to be the inevitable shoot-down. And I'll accept that. But I know some part of you is hesitating for a moment, and if there is a moment of hesitation, that means you feel something too. All I ask is that you not dismiss that -at least for ten seconds- and try to dwell in it. Alyssa, there isn't another soul on this fucking planet who's ever made me half the person I am when I'm with you, and I would risk this friendship for the chance to take it to the next plateau. Because it's there between you and me. you can't deny that. And even if we never speak again after tonight, please know that I'm forever changed because of who you are and what you've meant to me, which -while I do appreciate it- I'd never need a painting of birds bought at a diner to remind me of.(Alyssa exits the car) Was it something I said?

Crimes and Misdemeanors
Professor Levy: We're all faced throughout our lives with agonizing decisions, moral choices. Some are on a grand scale, most of these choices are on lesser points. But we define ourselves by the choices we have made. We are, in fact, the sum total of our choices. Events unfold so unpredictably, so unfairly. Human happiness does not seem to have been included in the design of creation. It is only we, with our capacity to love, that give meaning to the indifferent universe. And yet, most human beings seem to have the ability to keep trying and even to find joy from simple things, like their family, their work, and from the hope that future generations might understand more.

Dangerous Beauty
Beatrice Venier: When my daughter is old enough, I want you to make her a courtesan. … The life you live, the freedom that you have! Would you deny my daughter the same chance? … Do you know what my daughter's nurse told her this morning? That "in a girl's voice lies temptation -- a known fact: eloquence in a woman means promiscuity. Promiscuity of the mind leads to promiscuity of the body." She doesn’t believe her yet, but she will. She'll grow up just like her mother. She'll marry. Bear children and honor her family. Spend her youth at needlepoint and rue the day she was born a girl. And when she dies, she'll wonder why she obeyed all the rules of God and country, because no Biblical hell could ever be worse than this state of perpetual inconsequence.

Dead Poets Society
Mr. Keating: In my class, you will learn to think for yourselves again. You will learn to savor words and languages. No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world. I see that look in Mr Pitts' eyes like 19th century literature has nothing to do with going to business school or medical school, right? Maybe. You may agree and think yes, we should study our Mr. Pritcher and learn our rhyme and meter and go quietly about the business of achieving other ambitions. Well, I have a secret for you. Huddle Up...Huddle UP! We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business these are all noble pursuits necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, and love; these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman "Oh me, Oh life of the question of these recurring. of the endless trains of the faithless of cities filled with the foolish. What good amid these? Oh me, Oh life." "Answer...that you are here and life exists....You are here. Life exists, and identity. The powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse." The powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

Dr. Strangelove
President Merkin Muffley: [to Kissoff] Hello? ... Ah ... I can't hear too well. Do you suppose you could turn the music down just a little? ... Oh-ho, that's much better. ... yeah ... huh ... yes ... Fine, I can hear you now, Dmitri. ... Clear and plain and coming through fine....I'm coming through fine, too, eh? ... Good, then ... well, then, as you say, we're both coming through fine. ... Good. ... Well, it's good that you're fine and ... and I'm fine. ... I agree with you, it's great to be fine. ... a-ha-ha-ha-ha ... Now then, Dmitri, you know how we've always talked about the possibility of something going wrong with the Bomb. ...The *Bomb*, Dmitri.... The *hydrogen* bomb! ... Well now, what happened is ... ah ... one of our base commanders, he had a sort of ... well, he went a little funny in the head ... you know ... just a little ... funny. And, ah ... he went and did a silly thing. ... Well, I'll tell you what he did. He ordered his planes ... to attack your country... Ah... Well, let me finish, Dmitri. ... Let me finish, Dmitri. ... Well listen, how do you think I feel about it?! ...Can you *imagine* how I feel about it, Dmitri? ... Why do you think I'm calling you? Just to say hello? ... *Of course* I like to speak to you! ... *Of course* I like to say hello! ... Not now, but anytime, Dmitri. I'm just calling up to tell you something terrible has happened... It's a *friendly* call. Of course it's a friendly call. ... Listen, if it wasn't friendly ... you probably wouldn't have even got it. ... They will *not* reach their targets for at least another hour. ... I am ... I am positive, Dmitri. ... Listen, I've been all over this with your ambassador. It is not a trick. ... Well, I'll tell you. We'd like to give your air staff a complete run-down on the targets, the flight plans, and the defensive systems of the planes. ... Yes! I mean i-i-i-if we're unable to recall the planes, then ... I'd say that, ah ... well, ah ... we're just gonna have to help you destroy them, Dmitri. ... I know they're our boys. ... All right, well listen now. Who should we call? ...*Who* should we call, Dmitri? The ... wha-whe, the People... you, sorry, you faded away there.... The People's Central Air Defense Headquarters. ... Where is that, Dmitri? ... In Omsk. ... Right. ... Yes. ...Oh, you'll call them first, will you? ... Uh-hu ... Listen, do you happen to have the phone number on you, Dmitri? ... Whe-ah, what? I see, just ask for Omsk information. ...Ah-ah-eh-uhm-hm ... I'm sorry, too, Dmitri. ...I'm very sorry. ... *All right*, you're sorrier than I am, but I am as sorry as well. ... I am as sorry as you are, Dmitri! Don't say that you're more sorry than I am, because I'm capable of being just as sorry as you are. ... So we're both sorry, all right?! ... All right.

Empire Strikes Back
Luke: I can't. It's too big.
Yoda: Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm. And well you should not. For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. You must feel the Force around you; between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere. Yes, even between the land and the ship.

Fast Times at Ridgemont High
Mike Damone: First of all Rat, you never let on how much you like a girl. "Oh, Debbie. Hi." Two, you always call the shots. "Kiss me. You won't regret it." Now three, act like wherever you are, that's the place to be. "Isn't this great?" Four, when ordering food, you find out what she wants, then order for the both of you. It's a classy move. "Now, the lady will have the linguini and white clam sauce, and a Coke with no ice." And five, now this is the most important, Rat. When it comes down to making out, whenever possible, put on side one of Led Zeppelin IV.

A Few Good Men
Jessep: You want answers?
Kaffee: I want the truth!
Jessep: You can't handle the truth! Son, we live in a world that has walls. And those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago and you curse the Marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives...You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall. You need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty...we use these words as the backbone to a life spent defending something. You use 'em as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it! I'd rather you just said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to!

The Fisher King
Jack: Do you believe in God?
Anne: Ohh! You gotta believe in God! But I don't believe God created Man in His image. 'Cause most the shit that happens is because of men. Men were made in the devil's image. And women were created outta God. 'Cause, after all, women can have babies--which is kinda like creating. And which also accounts for the fact that women are so attracted to men. 'Cause let's face it, the devil is a helluva lot more interesting. I slept with some saints in my day, believe me, I know. Eegh-boy! So, the whole point of life, the whole point of life is for men and women to get married so God and the Devil can get together--and work it out. Not that we have to get married or anything. God forbid.

Funny Girl
Fanny Brice: Suppose all ya ever had for breakfast was onion rolls. Then one day, in walks (gasp) a bagel! You'd say, 'Ugh, what's that?' Until you tried it! That's my problem - I'm a bagel on a plate full of onion rolls. Nobody recognizes me! Listen, I got 36 expressions. Sweet as pie and tough as leather. And that's six expressions more than all those...Barrymores put together. Instead of just kicking me, why don't they give me a lift? Well, it must be a plot, 'cause they're scared that I got...such a gift! 'Cause I'm the greatest star, I am by far, but no one knows it. Wait - they're gonna hear a voice, a silver flute. They'll cheer each toot, hey, she's terrific!, when I expose it. Now can't you see to look at me that I'm a natural Camille, and as Camille, I just feel, I've so much to offer. Kid, I know I'd be divine because I'm a natural cougher (coughs) - some ain't got it, not a lump. I'm a great big clump of talent! Laugh, they'll bend in half. Did you ever hear the story about the travelling salesman? A thousand jokes, stick around for the jokes. A thousand faces. I reiterate. When you're gifted, then you're gifted. These are facts, I've got no axe to grind. Ay! What are ya, blind? In all of the world so far, I'm the greatest star! No autographs, please. What? You think beautiful girls are gonna stay in style forever? I should say not! Any minute now they're gonna be out! FINISHED! Then it'll be my turn!

Glengarry Glen Ross
Roma: All train compartments smell vaguely of shit. It gets so you don't mind it. That's the worst thing that I can confess. You know how long it took me to get there? A long time. When you die you're going to regret the things you don't do. You think you're queer? I'm going to tell you something: we're all queer. You think you're a thief? So what? You get befuddled by a middle-class morality? Get shut of it. Shut it out. You cheated on your wife? You did it, live with it. You fuck little girls, so be it.There's an absolute morality? Maybe. And then what? If you think there is, then be that thing. Bad people go to hell? I don't think so. If you think that, act that way. A hell exists on earth? Yes. I won't live in it. That's me. You ever take a dump made you feel like you'd just slept for twelve hours?

Goodwill Hunting
Will: Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at the N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people that I never met and that I never had no problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. They're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin' play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's walking to the fuckin' job interviews, which sucks 'cause the schrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorroids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure, fuck it, while I'm at it, why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.

The Goodbye Girl
Elliott: Will you listen very, very carefully to me? Just for once--This may be the last time I ever talk to you. Not everyone in this world is after your magnificent body, lady. In the first place, it's not so magnificent. It's fair, but it ain't keeping me up nights, you know? I don't even think you're very pretty. Maybe if you smiled once and awhile, okay, but I don't want you to do anything against your religion. And you are not the only person in this city ever to get dumped on. I myself am a recent dumpee. I am a dedicated actor, Paula, you know? I am dedicated to my art and my craft. I value what I do. And because of a mentally arthritic director, I am about to play the second greatest role in the history of the English-speaking theater like a double order of fresh California fruit salad. When I say "nice," I mean "nice"--ya know, decent, fair. I deserve it, because I'm a nice, decent and fair person. I don't wanna jump on your bones. I don't even want to see you in the morning. But I'll tell you what I do like about you, Paula: Lucy. Lucy's your best part. Lucy is worth putting up with you for. So here is fourteen dollars for the care and feeding of that terrific kid. You get zippity-doo-dah! You want any money? Borrow it from your ten-year-old daughter. I am now going inside my room to meditate away my hostility toward you. Personally, I don't think it can be done.

Jaws
Hooper: You were on the Indianapolis?
Brody: What happened?
Quint: Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into our side, chief. It was comin' back, from the island of Tinian Delady, just delivered the bomb. The Hiroshima bomb. Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in twelve minutes. Didn't see the first shark for about a half an hour. Tiger. Thirteen footer. You know, you know that when you're in the water, chief? You tell by lookin' from the dorsal to the tail. Well, we didn't know. `Cause our bomb mission had been so secret, no distress signal had been sent. Huh huh. They didn't even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, chief. The sharks come cruisin'. So we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know it's... kinda like `ol squares in battle like a, you see on a calendar, like the battle of Waterloo. And the idea was, the shark would go for nearest man and then he'd start poundin' and hollerin' and screamin' and sometimes the shark would go away. Sometimes he wouldn't go away. Sometimes that shark, he looks right into you. Right into your eyes. You know the thing about a shark, he's got...lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eye. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be livin'. Until he bites ya and those black eyes roll over white. And then, ah then you hear that terrible high pitch screamin' and the ocean turns red and spite of all the poundin' and the hollerin' they all come in and rip you to pieces. Y'know by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men! I don't know how many sharks, maybe a thousand! I don't know how many men, they averaged six an hour. On Thursday mornin' chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player, boson's mate. I thought he was asleep, reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up and down in the water, just like a kinda top. Up ended. Well... he'd been bitten in half below the waist. Noon the fifth day, Mr. Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura saw us, he swung in low and he saw us. He'd a young pilot, a lot younger than Mr. Hooper, anyway he saw us and come in low. And three hours later a big fat PBY comes down and start to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened? Waitin' for my turn. I'll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went in the water, three hundred and sixteen men come out, the sharks ttook the rest, June the 29, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb.

The Jerk
Navin: And I don't need any of this! I don't need this stuff, (pushes all of the letters off the desk), and I don't need you. I don't need anything except this (picks up an ashtray) and that's it and that's the only thing I need, is this. I don't need this or this. Just this ashtray. And this paddle game (picks it up), the ashtray and the paddle game and that's all I need. And this remote control. The ashtray, the paddle game and the remote control, and that's all I need. And these matches. The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control and the paddle ball. And this lamp. The ashtray, this paddle game and the remote control and the lamp and that's all I need. And that's all I need too. I don't need one other thing, not one - (sees something) I need this! The paddle game, and the chair, and the remote control, and the matches, for sure. Well what are you looking at? What do you think I am, some kind of a jerk or something? And this! And that's all I need. The ashtray, the remote control, the paddle game, this magazine and the chair. And I don't need one other thing except my dog. (Shithead, the dog, growls) Well I don't need my dog.

And finally, Goodwill Hunting again
Sean: So if I asked you about art you’d probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written...Michelangelo? You know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientation, the whole works, right? But I bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. Seen that.....If I asked you about women you'd probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. I ask you about war, and you'd probably--uh--throw Shakespeare at me, right? "Once more into the breach, dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap and watched him gasp his last breath, looking to you for help. And if I asked you about love y'probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone could level you with her eyes. Feeling like! God put an angel on earth just for you...who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it’s like to be her angel and to have that love for her to be there forever. Through anything. Through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping sittin’ up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term visiting hours don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you; I don't see an intelligent, confident man; I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius, Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine and you ripped my fuckin' life apart. You're an orphan right? Do you think I'd know the first thing about how hard ! your life has been, how you feel, who you are because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally, I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what? I can't learn anything from you I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you wanna talk about you, who you are. And I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't wanna do that, do you, sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.