A Perfect World: One of Clint Eastwood's Underrated Films

I've been on a Clint Eastwood kick lately, much like I was around the time I was 16 or so and watched all the Dirty Harry movies, especially loved Escape from Alcatraz, and determined he was my favorite actor.

So I realized that A Perfect World, from 1993, was one of the few Eastwood movies I hadn't seen. It's the tale of two convicts who escape from a Texas prison in 1963. One is a real idiot and doesn't last long outside the prison walls, but the other turns out to be the complicated Robert "Butch" Haynes, played perfectly by Kevin Costner, who clearly still had his acting chops after a tremendous run of roles between 1987's The Untouchables and 1991's JFK.

In A Perfect World, Costner's Haynes doesn't seem like that bad of a person (although part of the drama is sometimes not quite knowing whether this is true). The main draw to this Eastwood-directed winner is the relationship Costner builds with the young Jehovah's Witness he kidnaps (played by T.J. Lowther, who never played in any other good movies). The two form a bond that supplies considerable drama.

The weaker part of the movie, surprisingly, is the manhunt, led by Eastwood as Texas Ranger Red Garnett. He is one of the reasons Costner's character was imprisoned in the first place, for relatively minor crimes. It turns out that both Costner and Eastwood's roles have huge soft spots underneath their hard-boiled surfaces. Much of Eastwood's soft side is coaxed out by Laura Dern, who is appointed to the manhunt by the governor's office.

Well worth watching.

***1/2 out of ***** stars

Richard Russo Finds "That Old Cape Magic"

It's always good to see someone from one of my alma maters hit it big. And in author Richard Russo's case, really big. The Pulitzer Prize novelist was teaching English at Southern Illinois University Carbondale when his first novel, Mohawk, was published in 1986, just two years before I attended that school for my freshman year of undergrad.

Sweetening the deal, Russo is originally from Gloversville, a depressed town in the southern New York Adirondack Mountains that was the proud home of where most of the world's gloves were produced before the factories shuttered and moved to Italy. My family has some houses on nearby Lake Sacandaga, and Cousin Paul knows all the stories about Gloversville and Russo's upbringing there.

But I digress. I started reading Russo's new book, That Old Cape Magic. It's about 57-year-old Jack Griffin and his wife Joy, who are planning a trip to Cape Cod, where Jack spent his summer vacations as a child, for their daughter Laura's best friend Kelsey's wedding.

The novel intertwines Jack and Joy's life with those of Jack's parents, who led miserable lives as professors in the "Mid-fucking-West" 11 months of the year. The only happy part of their years together was the one month each summer spent vacationing on the Cape.

His parents both grew up in western New York State, went to graduate school at Yale, and then went to where they could get collegiate teaching jobs in the same place, which was "a huge state university in Indiana." Both were serial adulterers before divorcing. She remarried a philosophy professor at the school named Bart and he married one of his former graduate students named Claudia.

Back in Jack and Joy's generation, Joy has sisters June and Jane and "idiot twin brothers" Jared and Jason. Also of note in the early pages is that Jack carries around his father's ashes; he, Joy, and Laura spent some time in L.A. where he worked as a screenwriter before they both got jobs at an elite New England college; and his mother seems to take out her frustration at his success by requesting that he find books and journal articles in the school library to bring to her at her assisted-living facility.

I'm not yet willing to wager that That Old Cape Magic is as classic as 1988's The Risk Pool (which is apparently being developed into a movie starring Tom Hanks), but I'll definitely get back to reading this one, which is promising Russo's usual great characters, cutting humor, and intertwined families.

Rockin' Photos: Day 1 at Pitchfork Music Festival

My good friend Francis Chung went to Pitchfork in Chicago this year so I didn't have to. Actually, we attended the great indie-rock festival a few years ago and it was so hot that it made me sort of lose my thirst for multi-day summer music adventures. But like I said, I'm lucky Fran went, especially so because he's an amazing professional photographer who works for Pitchfork.com, not only the best music Web site around, but also the curators of the festival.

Fran is nice enough to let me repost his work. So I'm taking the opportunity to highlight what I think are his best photos from the event. The first of three posts in this series looks at Day 1 of Pitchfork. He had some serious access, as you can tell from the pictures of legendary Yo La Tengo (above) and David Yow, the leader of Jesus Lizard, jumping into the crowd (left).

Check out the rest of Fran's Day 1 photos here.

By the way, my favorite Yo La Tengo albums are:
1. Painful (1993)
2. President Yo La Tengo/New Wave Hot Dogs (1989)
3. May I Sing With Me (1992)

My favorite Jesus Lizard albums? Eh, who care, but great photo.

Celebrity Sighting Edition: Bald Operative James Carville

One of the great things about living in D.C. is the occasional political-figure-in-the-street sightings. Sure, I go to functions where big shots are speaking or attending. But those are never as fun as the surprise, "Hey, that was ..." in passing.

As I idled on my bicycle after work the other day in front of my office (near Union Station and Capitol Hill), what comes racing around the corner but an orange Honda Element with Democratic political operative James Carville kicking back in the passenger seat (he may not have a position in Obama's administration, but he still gets driven around by other people) gabbing on a cell phone with his feet on his friend's dashboard.

Carville helped Bill Clinton defeat George H.W. Bush in the 1992 presidential campaign. He is widely credited with inventing the term "[It's] the economy, stupid."

He continued on as a Clinton loyalist by backing Hillary Clinton in the most recent campaign. And when former loyalist Bill Richardson, the governor of New Mexico, endorsed Barrack Obama, Carville called it "an act of betrayal. Mr. Richardson’s endorsement came right around the anniversary of the day when Judas sold out [Jesus] for 30 pieces of silver, so I think the timing is appropriate, if ironic." Carville went on to support Obama after he beat Clinton in the primary. He now teaches at Tulane University in New Orleans, but must be visiting D.C. during the August doldrums.

This adds to my list of D.C. political street sightings, which includes Monica Lewinsky, John McCain, and John Kerry, among others.

Dean Martin Proves He's No Austin Powers

I recently read that Dean Martin's The Silencers was similar to Austin Powers and may have influenced Michael Myers' classic comedies. I wish the article would have mentioned how bad the acting and how slow the pace was in this near-turkey.

While Martin himself can't act, he is captivating, if only because his swinging, smoking, drinking, cherished lifestyle is so decadent, old-fashioned, and carefree. There are hardly any laughs (that's not to say there aren't many badly dated one-line attempts), but one moment is funny when he turns the car radio disgustedly from a Sinatra song to his own "Everybody Loves Somebody" ("now this guy can sing"). At least he can laugh at himself.

The idea is that he plays a retired CIA-like agent named Matt Helm who gets called back into duty to stop a plot to explode a radioactive bomb over the Southwest U.S. Between stumbling from girl to girl, Martin somehow stumbles into knocking off kingpin "The Big O," who figures Russia will be blamed, the U.S. and Russia will destroy each other, and he and his hapless "silencers(?)" will take over the world.

Victor Buono plays The Big O like a poor-man's Dom DeLuise, with the same cardboard bad-guyness that he had in Beneath the Planet of the Apes. The ladies of the cast are remarkably abhorrent. Stella Stevens (pictured above with Martin) turns in some facial expressions that should be outlawed and one of the worst performances I've ever seen. Daliah Lavi as Tina, Cyd Charisse as Sarita, and Nancy Kovack as Barbara look like Winona Ryder, Salma Hayek, and Kate Winslet (in other words, great) compared to Stevens.

I've definitely got nothing against old movies (this one is from 1966), but ughh!

*1/2 out of ***** stars

Dead City Helps Patti Smith Lighten Up

The last time I reviewed one of playwright Sheila Callaghan's plays, Fever/Dream earlier this summer at D.C.'s Woolly Mammoth, I was unimpressed. I thought she was trying to make "some important statement on society" and trying really hard to get laughs that just weren't there.

I'm not trying to pick on Callaghan, I just keep happening to see her plays. And, despite the fact that it was really cool that the playwright herself left an explanatory comment on my blog, I have to admit that I have the same complaint about the Rorschach Theatre's Dead City, running at at the Davis Performing Arts Center at Georgetown.

Actually, Dead City is slightly better than Fever/Dream. It ambitiously attempts to transplant James Joyce's Ulysses from Dublin 100+ years ago to Manhattan now. The characters mirror that great novel in Samantha Blossom as the the older Internet consultant who discovers her husband may be cheating and decides to have an adventure in the city herself. Her day-long journey ends up at a wild club with young Patti Smith-obsessed poet Jewel.

While other reviews gush over Rachel Beauregard's Jewel, I was actually most amused by Wyckham Avery's Samantha B (some allusion to The Daily Show?). She really hit all the physical humor as she both goes downhill and discovers herself as the play progresses. And her gum-chewing sex scene in a dark park with a young stranger (Danny Gavigan) is brilliantly gross.

Tim Getman's Gabriel, Samantha's cheating jazz-singer husband, also has some high moments. His cheesy love song is tossed off, making it both ridiculous and undeniably lovable. His play-ending monologue about trying to start living a more wholesome life with a traditional marriage leaves the audience with a nicely unsettling hopeful and hopeless outro.

Big-eyed Valerie Fenton and versatile Grady Weatherford also do admirably funny jobs. But in the end, the lack of a cohesive or compelling plot undoes all the actors' nice individual touches.

I suspect that a lot of what I didn't like has somehow to do with Patti Smith ... Perhaps an adaptation based on Ulysses and The Ramones is something that might work for me. And it would definitely be funnier. After all, Smith always has been a drag.

**1/2 out of ***** stars

Music Reviews in 3 Words or Less: Vol. 7

Wilco-Wilco (The Album) (2009)
Worst Wilco album
Touchstones: Less adventurous Wilco meets mellow Wilco
**** out of ***** stars

Meiko-S/T (2008)
Wimpy but touching
Touchstone: The Concretes meet Brett Dennen
***1/2 out of ***** stars

Yeah Yeah Yeahs-It's Blitz! (2009)
Acoustic half = mistake
Touchstones: The Pretenders meet synthesizers
*** out of ***** stars

Maximo Park-Quicken the Heart (2009)
Danceable, very '80s
Touchstones: Blur meets U2
*** out of ***** stars

Viva Voce-Rose City (2009)
Dramatic, never climaxing
Touchstones: Yo la Tengo meets The Raveonettes
*** out of ***** stars

Meat Puppets-Golden Lies (2000)
Buy 2009 album
Touchstones: Meat Puppets meets a lazy version of the Meat Puppets
*** out of ***** stars

Von Hayes-Evident Eyelid (2008)
Lo lo fi
Touchstones: Guided by Voices meets funny baseball reference
**1/2 out of ***** stars

Bugs Bunny Fools With Some Classic Looney Tunes Nemisises

Now that my son Jackson is almost 2, he's allowed to watch short chunks of Disney and Sesame Street. And I'm more than happy to report that he is also pretty taken with Bugs Bunny, one of my all-time faves as a kid.

So I Netflixed The Looney Tunes Golden Collection Vol 1: Disc 3. Actually, I have to admit, I already watched volumes 1 and 2 just before Jackson was born, so maybe I didn't totally Netflix this one just for him.

While the disc has lots of extras, I was interested in watching the 14 shorts. Half feature Bugs, while the rest puts the spotlight on lesser characters like Pepe Le Pew, Ralph and Sam, and Marc and Pussyfoot.

There are at least four must-watches. Rent the disc just for these, if nothing else.

1.) "Bugs Gets the Boid" (pictured). This is as good as early Bugs (1942) gets. The Italian mama buzzard teaches the young and dumb Beaky Buzzard how to fly. He crashes into a clever-as-always desert bunny. They end up dancing cheek-to-cheek ("We should do this more often," Bugs deadpans), and Beaky gets hilariously embarrassed.

2.) "Haredevil Hare:" Despite the prevalence of the annoying Marvin the Martian, is undeniably one of the greatest moon landings ever.

3.) "Baton Bunny," from 1959, is the latest short in the batch, and it's from the era I probably most love. It highlights Bugs' best moves as a conductor in the pit.

4.) "Hair-Raising Hare" features Gossamer, the big orange, tennis-shoe-wearing monster, who Bugs calls a "big strong boy."

**** out of ***** stars

Hall and Oates Have Sax With Virginia Crowd

I felt like a 12-year-old again last night, reliving my first rock concert. Daryl Hall and John Oates 26 years later was certainly not as great as that 1983 H2O show in St. Louis, but it was pretty darn melodic nevertheless.

Of course Hall and Oates get a bad rap as cheesy, soft-rock-for-yacht-owner types. And there were plenty of those characters in the crowd at Wolftrap in Virginia Sunday night. (There were also plenty of big-hair 1980s non-hipsters, as witnessed by the two classy Oatesheads in the photo to the left.)

But this show wasn't about judging people. It was more about leaving your inhibitions in check and enjoying the most successful duo in rock history. Hall played acoustic guitar and keyboard and Oates played electric guitar. There were six people in the backing band, including two members from that 1983 tour, sax player Charlie DeChant and T-Bone Wolk (formerly on bass, now on lead guitar; not sure why former solist and Saturday Night Live bandleader G.E. Smith is no longer touring with H2O).

Hall and Oates are one of the few bands that could pull off a saxophone sounding so right. DeChant, in his purple suit and soft mane of hair, tore through just about every song, with particular sax highlights on opener "Maneater," a lengthy version of "One on One," and "I Can't Go for That (No Can Do)."

Wolk had several nice solos. My favorite moment in any Hall and Oates song is the short guitar break in "You Make My Dreams." Wolk played it differently than G.E. Smith, but it still had that same quick crunch and was very cool. It didn't hurt that he wore a cowboy hat and looked a lot like, from our perspective in the last row of the balcony under the pavilion, Neil Young.

The highlights of the night had to be "Sara Smile," which actually brought a tear to my eye, and the final encore medley of "Kiss On My List" and "Private Eyes."

The set list and notes I scribbled on my phone:

Maneater - Serious purple sax
Family Man - Nice T-Bone solo
Out of Touch - Great sing and clap along
Say It Isn't So - Warm club feel
How Does It Feel to be Back? - Song off Voices by Oates, a nice surprise
When the Morning Comes - Snuck down front for two songs, sounded amazing
Las Vegas Turnaround - Second song in a row off Abandoned Luncheonette
How Ya Doin Babe - Didn't know this song and not sure this is its title
She's Gone - Bustin out the Philly soul
One on One - Extended and undeniable with fiesty sax
Sara Smile - Cried in first half, rocking solo by Hall and T-Bone in the second half
I Can't Go for That (No Can Do) - Sax done right

First Encore
Rich Girl - Predictably great, a modern standard
You Make My Dreams - Different break solo by T-Bone but still cool

Second Encore
Kiss on my List/Private Eyes - Perfect

**** out of ***** stars

Fantasy Football Arrives!

As I inevitably continue to get older, nothing seems nearly as routinely debaucherous as my annual sojourn to Osage Beach in the Lake of the Ozarks. It is there that I meet 11 old high-school/college buddies for one of my two Fantasy Football drafts each summer. They're all still living in the St. Louis area, while I come in from D.C. and Matt Wilson arrives from Salt Lake City.

This year's draft took place ridiculously early, as not a single preseason snap has occurred. That said, my team looks stronger on paper than recent years in this extremely competitive league. I got what looks to be a bevy of high-value picks. Agree? I was the 11th pick in the 12-team "snake draft" league.

1st round-Steve Slaton RB1
2-Frank Gore RB2
3-Phillip Rivers QB1
4-Terrell Owens WR1
5-Brandon Marshall WR2
6-DeSean Jackson WR3
7-Matt Cassell QB2
8-Chris Cooley TE1
9-John Carlson TE2
10-NY Jets D/ST1
11-Garrett Hartley K1
12-Cedric Benson RB3

Yeah, pretty sweet. But really, the whole point of this league is getting together with great friends once a year (that's Jeff Wahl and me in the photo). Sad it won't happen again for 12 months.