The Likeable and the Good

I’m writing today about an issue that deeply touches my reading audience:
Movies.

At a number of different times in my life I have been asked what my favorite movie is. I usually respond with a 30 minute monologue about films and filmmakers; much to the dismay of the person who was really only asking to make small talk.

The most difficult thing when discussing movies (or any art form, for that matter) is to keep the objective separate from the subjective. You may ask, “What the heck does that mean?” Well, if you’d be patient I’ll tell you!

An objective comment is a fact; it is something that is true no matter what the individual may think. A subjective comment is an opinion; it is subject to the individual and changes from person to person.

So here are some practical examples:

OBJECTIVE
The fire is warm.
SUBJECTIVE
I like a warm fire.

OBJECTIVE
The sky is blue.
SUBJECTIVE
The sky looks pretty.

OBJECTIVE
You smell like a baboon’s hindquarters.
SUBJECTIVE
You smell good.

As you can see subjective opinions do not always have to be grounded in truth, but objective facts usually answer to some law of science or nature. You may ask, “What the heck does that have to do with movies?” Man, do your questions get annoying.

One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone tells me they’ve just seen a new movie and when I ask them how it was, they tell me, “I liked it.” That tells me little or nothing about the movie. I liked it tells me about you but I wasn’t asking about you I was asking about the movie. When speaking about movies (and as a general practice) we need to be more selective in the language we choose. We need to differentiate between the good (objective) and likable (subjective). Obsoive:

OBJECTIVE
"The Sixth Sense" used excellent story telling techniques to disguise the true nature of its main character.
SUBJECTIVE
I liked "The Sixth Sense".

OBJECTIVE
"Cast Away" is a stirring tale about the nature of mankind and his capacity to persevere.
SUBJECTIVE
"Cast Away" is a boring movie.

OBJECTIVE
"Gone With The Wind" is an epic period piece set against the back drop of the American Civil War.
SUBJECTIVE
"Gone With The Wind" is an enjoyable film.

Once again you can see that subjective opinions are not always grounded in truth. But the objective facts can not be argued against…not unless the person wants to look like a fool. Personally I don’t like (subjective) "Dr. Zhivago" but I have to concede that it is (objective) a well made movie. On the other hand I happen to really like (subjective) "Ernest Goes to Camp" although I do have to admit that it is (objective) pretty dumb. Now you may ask, “What the heck does that have to do with me?” Alright, this is the last time I’m going answer you!

I want you, the readers, to tell me what you think are the top three best movies you’ve seen. Not necessarily you favorite (subjective) three, but what are the best made (objective) movies you can think of. Try to remember things like acting, special effects, story telling, direction, cinematography, costumes, score, timing and delivery, originality, and overall message. All or some of these things must work together to make a good movie. Make your list and post it as a comment to this blog and we’ll see what movies take the “Meatballs and Ravioli Oscar.”

Campfires, Birthday's, and Comedic Polkas

We'll be on the road for a couple days and I can't guarantee any Internet access while I'm gone.
But we're going to see Weird Al Yankovic in Scranton on Wednesday, Thursday is my birthday, Friday is the Eventide release (geek stuff) Saturday is Jess's birthday and we're going camping until we come home Sunday night. This will be a pretty crazy couple of days!
I'll fill you all in when we get back.

In the mean time, here's a pretty funny video you can enjoy:

New Poll

I don't know why, but it seems like I've got Star Wars on the brain. Here's a new poll in keeping with my (and my kids') newest interest.

Who Lives In A Pineapple Under The Sea?

No, it's not Ariel at a luau, it's SpongeBob Squarepants!

And today is his birthday! According to his driver's licence which can be seen in both "Sleepy Time" and "No Free Rides" he was born on July 14th, 1986. That means he's 22 today!

You'd think by now he'd start acting his age...

Da-da Da-da Da-da You Say It's Your Birthday

Happy Birthday to one of my favorite Beatles, Ringo Starr.

He's 68 today!

• Just a couple of random Ringo facts:
• Ringo's real name is Richard Starkey (but you all knew that one already)
• Ringo is the oldest and youngest member of the Beatles (first born, last to join)
• Ringo (like Paul) is a lefty.
• Ringo's son, Zak, received drum lessons from Keith Moon and was the drummer for the band Oasis (who sound exactly like the Beatles).
• Ringo used to play in a band called "Rory and The Hurricanes"
• Ringo's favorite color is red.
  
  

Snap! Crackle! Ka-Pow!

Well this Friday is the 4th of July again. A time when we come together as a nation and remember the day when, in 1812, Christopher Columbus and “Curious” George Washington joined forces and stormed the shores of Normandy to destroy the evil forces of the Decepticons. Millions of Americans, in keeping with tradition, will celebrate the holiday the only way they know how…that’s right, by blowing their fingers off with illegal fireworks! Nothing says “liberty” to an American like exercising their right to injure themselves in potentially deadly behavior. How else could you explain helmet laws, seat belt laws, handgun laws, NASCAR, bungee jumping, and Wendy’s "Baconator" sandwich?

While there are pleanty of wacky fun-loving states where fireworks are perfectly legal, I grew up in New York, and if there’s one thing that New Yorkers are known for, it’s their prudent and cautious behavior. Years ago, New York lawmakers wisely decided that instead of having to deal with long lines and pesky regulations it would be much simpler to have their citizens simply drive to another state (Connecticut, Maryland, Pennsylvania, South Carolina…take your pick) and purchase all manner of excessively hazardous fireworks to transport across state lines. Just another inspiring example of Americans in action; showing their true love of liberty by giving a big old F-U to the “man,” and helping their fellow countrymen by earning a 300% profit and implicating them in their own federal offenses.

But no one enjoys the holiday more than the young kids whose parents (or friends’ parents, or cousins or whoever) have exercised their freedom by purchasing randomly selected fireworks from the back of a rental van or a dark garage. These were the lucky kids, envied by all. Their social status the other 364 days of the year didn’t matter; when they had a pack of ladyfingers and a Bic they were everybody’s friend.

To my knowledge, my father rarely made these purchases. I did, however, have an older cousin who kept me very well stocked in my childhood. People say that kids today have no imagination. Well just give a boy of 12 and his friends a pack of bottle rockets and an M-80 and you’ll see all sorts of creative and original ways to have fun. My friend Brian and I used to save our bottle rockets for a game of war, launching them at one another from curtain rods. (This is the same guy I used to have staple-gun wars with as well.) At our family barbecues my cousins and I would blow up paper cups, soda cans, army men, G.I. Joes (those rubber band waists held a ladyfinger very nicely), small stuffed animals, large stuffed animals, badminton birdies and just about any toy that came out of a McDonald’s happy meal.

The most memorable times were, of course, the most frightening (and later hysterical): the time a ladyfinger went off in my Aunt Cira’s hand, the time my cousin Diana had to point out the cops had pulled up as I was trying blast out an anthill, the time my cousin Kevin’s mortar didn’t clear the power lines and detonated just above street level showering the neighbor hood in sparks. There was also the time my cousin Anthony tripped over the curb running from a sparkling fountain; the time I put the wrong end of a smoldering punk into my mouth; the time my friend Dan “the man” Luderman had to light an M-80 for us since everyone else was too scared, then go back and re-light the now shortened, semi-burnt fuse before diving to safety; the time three friends and I tried to light off a firework with a magnifying glass detonating it less than a foot from our faces; the time when, in college, I lit off a pack of gunshots on street in Philadelphia discovering, only after lighting it, that the door was locked I did not have my keys in my pajamas and my roommates, Luke and Matt, thought that my banging and knocking was an angry neighbor so they didn’t open the door and I had to look cool and casual as the neighbors really did come out to see what was going on and I had to act as surprised and in shocked as them as though I was not the guy who was responsible for the pile of blown apart paper on the street directly in front of my stoop…ah the memories.

The morning of July 5th, though, is like scene from a post-apocalyptic movie:

Dawn breaks in silence. A gentle breeze stirs the piles of burnt paper and
debris in the now empty streets. Somewhere in the distance a dog barks. Suddenly
there’s movement near the house; a young boy, then another. Scavengers. They
creep out in silence to pick over the night’s remains. Their little fingers
making a vital search for that treasure among treasures. Yes, there among the
burnt out and spent remains of last night's merriment is the precious desire of
their hearts: the one overlooked firework.

One they can shoot off with no parents around and no cops on the prowl. The one firework they’d be free to blow up wherever and however they choose once again expressing their freedom...and undoubtedly landing themselves in the ER with a burn wound and ringing ears. Badges of war and reminders that this is America, and this is exactly what our forefathers fought for. That and a shorter trade-route to India.

Happy 4th of July everybody.