Movie Magellans

Jon Glaser: Thriving on Anonymity whilst in the Limelight

Groundhog Day (not to be confused with the Bill Murray classic) happened recently.  The Groundhog smugly  proclaimed that, “Winter is indeed coming.” This event led me to contemplate the famous recluses of quasi-modern times. Such is the bizarre inner-workings of my mind.

We live in an age where employment rates are awful; yet, it seems as if an astounding percentage of our generation truly believes in eventual stardom (America’s Got Talent, American Idol and The Voice should shakily support this claim). And yes, more of our average joe’s are achieving certain levels of unnecessary fame through mediums such as Twitter and Youtube. Yet, we still hold onto old, tried-and-true conventions such as relying upon rodents to forecast the weather despite the fact that said rodent spends his time in seclusion no doubt composing some Groundhog equivalent to Dostoevsky’s “Notes From the Underground.” How could this be the case you or I might ask?

Well, the general public has historically both admonished and revered the anonymous and the recluse’s rise to fame. There is something both disheartening and heartwarming about the man or woman who achieves fame while simultaneously rejecting the conventions associated with fame. For me personally as an avid reader of his work, I was both furious and excited to see Cormac McCarthy’s first public interview on Oprah. And there is no doubt that J.D. Salinger’s reclusive nature both intrigued and upset an entire generation forever changed by Holden Caulfield. Terrence Malick took a 30 year hiatus from film making only to return to eager anticipation—despite my personal grievances with The New World and The Tree of Life notwithstanding. Harper Lee, Thomas Pynchon, Daniel Day-Lewis, Banksy and the list goes even further back to the likes of Jean Jacques Rousseau.

These anti-heroes of the public eye existing on the cusp of mainstream discussions continue to resonate from generation to generation, while we await anxiously each and evety successive appearance. In the modern age, this feat is becoming further and further removed from recognizable or legitimate existence. Photos gone viral of Day-Lewis as Abe Lincoln at a coffee shop seem to support this notion. However, one man seems to have figured the whole situation out and completely turned it upon its stupid head: Delocated star Jon Glaser.

Season three of Delocated premiered last night. Jon Glaser is a New York City based comedian who cut his teeth right here in Chicago’s Second City. His breakthough came as a writer for Late Night with Conan O’Brien where he popularized such characters as Wrist Hulk and the Slipknot cover band the Slipnutz just to name a few. Now, he stars in his own Adult Swim reality show Delocated as a smug, self confident husband and father sentenced to witness protection and constantly under the guise of a ski mask and voice scrambler. Genius, pure genius embodied in a caped-crusader’s own disguise.

Delocated, from a network perspective, is a show that should not exist. But it does, and it repays its audience with humor so silly and dry that it borders on anti-comedy at moments. The beauty of Jon Glaser, in my mind, rests upon this ability to finally step from behind the writer’s pen into the limelight, from writer’s room to front stage while simultaneously stepping from anonymity into famed-anonymity. It embodies the beauty of the hermit’s life without having to coup oneself up in dusty watchtowers pretending to be some Proustian intellectual above society. 

If you haven’t witnessed the spectacle that is Delocated, I highly suggest it. Convention breaking. Paul Rudd assassinating. Michael Shannon cameo’ing. It literally has something for the whole family.

The recluse may now step into the light. The Groundhog can quit telling me whether or not it’s cold outside. All so that Jon Glaser may issue in a new age of Anonymous Fame. If you want plain and simple fame, self-promote to the brink of public disgust. If you want to be revered, self-promote from a hermit’s seclusion. But if you want true, boy band, Delocated fame, dress up like a bank robber speak with a voice scrambler and act like a smug, self-indulgent asshole.  And for that we must thank Jon Glaser.

Enjoy.

—Davis Popper is an avid fan of all things pointless, immature and dorky. He may be contacted at dpopper212@gmail.com

Let me begin by saying that I am wholeheartedly embittered by the Academy’s blatant snubbing of Nicholas Winding Refn’s gore and adrenaline-fueled “Drive.” Let me also say that I loved “Hugo,” thoroughly enjoyed “The Artist” and pathetically wept tears of quasi-joy in “The Descendants.” That being said, I still find myself taken aback by the Oscar nominations year in and year out. Here’s why.

The Utilitarians believed that happiness should be likened to, amongst other things, “the greatest amount of joy for the greatest amount of people.” The Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences seems to feel the same way. For a group of Hollywood big names and self-proclaimed intellectual elitists, the Oscar nominations seem to dwell more upon the “Generally Accepted” and less upon “Challenging the Status Quo.” Here, I must concede that outliers and exceptions do exist—One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest immediately comes to mind.

However, the trend cannot be wholly disregarded. “Slumdog Millionaire” won Best Picture in a year when the economic crisis could not be ignored. “Crash” won Best Picture in a year when race relations, typical for the United States, were tense. “The King’s Speech” won Best Picture in a year when old curmudgeons enjoyed period pieces starring Colin Firth as a quirky king. And Sean Penn beat out Mickey Rourke’s all-too-real portrayal of Randy “The Ram” Robinson in Darren Aronofsky’s “The Wrestler.” OK, I take that last point back considering Penn was phenomenal in “Milk,” but I still have a gaping soft spot in my heart for Mickey Rourke, the 80’s and professional wrestling.

Now, in 2012, two films paying homage to the silent film era are slated as front-runners for the Best Picture and Best Director categories. In my opinion, Hugo is the better crafted story and better directed film of the two. Why might these two films be in this position you ask? Well, because of course the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences is just giddy to see the distant past recreated on the big screen and in modern 3D technology—it is so deliciously ironic they just can’t help themselves. To be honest, I have no problem with that line of reasoning as long as homage films, in more recent genres, are included or at least acknowledged by the Academy when they are done well.

Which brings me to “Drive,” Nicholas Winding Refn’s hyper-violent and synth-heavy homage to our generation’s cheesy 80’s action films. Now, I agree that Ryan Gosling did not deserve a nomination (gasps), but the fact that Albert Brooks was not even nominated for a role that was almost objectively praised by critics drives (pun intended) me crazy. Furthermore, considering Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ victory last year for “The Social Network,” I thought that Cliff Martinez’s original score was a shoe-in for a nod in the very least. Once again, I was wrong. “Drive” took me back to my first viewing of Risky Business against my parent’s wishes. “Drive” made me feel that sense of rebellion that can only be legitimized in the mind of a privileged, suburban kid who likens himself to James Dean through the simple act of watching a movie with blood and tits alone in his bedroom after light’s out. I will admit that it does not sound pretty, but those factors are my silent film era, my remembrance of things past and my childhood in a nutshell.

Until Nicholas Winding Refn’s next project, which I eagerly await, it appears as though I will just have to sit patiently watching the generally accepted and easily swallowable Academy Awards Ceremony of 2012. Either that or I can re-watch his “Pusher” Trilogy and “Bronson,” both sound like winning plans. I guess “Drive” was just too violent and plot heavy for the Academy this year. Wait, how many combined Oscars did “Braveheart” and “Gladiator” win?

Enjoy

Davis Popper is a freelance, stream-of-consciousness writer who cares too much about pop-culture and not enough about politics. He may be contacted at dpopper212@gmail.com

P.S. The Academy’s attempt to totally redeem itself = Gary Oldman + Nick Nolte nominations.

In the beginning, God created Man for personal entertainment.

Mankind, in like fashion, invented the wheel, electricity and 3D reboots of classic movies.

Through the course of these developments, power and wealth served as the invisible guide of human history.

Then, on a day like any other day in nineteen ninety-something, mankind began mysteriously acquiring free music and pornography from an entity known simply as Napster.  Earthly happiness was in abundance, sort of.

Flash forward to 2007.  Five British alternative rock and roll stars allow fans to download a new album for the price of his or her choosing.  The powers that be were torn in stark duality between progressive acceptance and insatiable bitchiness. Mankind thought itself happy.

Now, in the Year of Our Lord 2012, amongst Congressional hearings regarding piracy on the cyber-seas, Tim Heidecker and Eric Warehaam offer mankind the opportunity to return to its original state of grace by paying to see the movies that they love.  YOU have the chance to stop piracy (and The Lorax) by pleging YOUR allegiance to a cause that transcends the greed-fueled plight of the modern man: TIM AND ERIC’S BILLION DOLLAR MOVIE!

Simply visit www.timanderic.com to learn more. 

Devote yourself to the greater good! The casting of a pebble from a single hand has the ability to alter the centre of gravity of the entire universe! Pledge allegiance to Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie before it’s too late…

Enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: The creation myth outlined above is not endorsed by Tim Heidecker or Eric Warehaam.

Fire in the Hole: Why Walton Goggins Should be a Household Name.

Let me begin by saying that I am ashamed to admit that I just began watching FX’s Justified last week.  However, I am currently halfway through Season Two so what I lacked in “being in the momentness”, I now possess as time regained.  Bottom line: If you were not a fan of Goggins pre-Justified, then prepare to trade up.  And if you were a fan already, then prepare to make room for a new deity.

Goggins established himself as a force to be reckoned with in FX’s phenomonal cop drama The Shield, featuring a tour-de-force performance by Michael Chiklis as Detective Vic Mackey. Years before this, Goggins acted alongside Robert Duvall in The Apostle, which to this day remains a film of such brilliant southern story telling (written by Duvall) that Flannery O’Connor herself would applaud wholeheartedly.

As it applies to particulars regarding Goggins portrayal of Boyd Crowder in Justified, I cannot go into detail at the moment.  Let it be noted that my fellow-blogger, writer and dear friend Jameson Glenn Brown is behind on his television consumption patterns for reasons unbeknownst to me.  As such, I can only say, “Jamey, get with the times.” 

I, however, am first and foremost a literature junkie.  For this reason, I urge anyone and everyone to not only watch That Evening Sun, featuring enthralling performances by Goggins, Oscar-nominated Hal Holbrook and Ray McKinnon (Co-owner of Ginny Mules Pictures with Goggins), but also to do yourself a favor by purchasing William Gay’s short-story collection “I Hate to See That Evening Sun Go Down,”  upon which the film is based.

Gay looks and sounds exactly like what he is: a southern boy, born and raised in the backwoods of Tennessee telling simple stories that just so happen to reflect the mind of a genius who in all likelihood does not truly realize it.  His prose is overwhelming in its effortless fluidity, and his imaginative storytelling, set in the town of Howenwald, TN, is comparable to the likes of McCarthy, O’Connor and Faulkner.  Stories from the collection of particular importance include, “I Hate to See That Evening Sun Go Down,” “A Death in the Woods” and “The Paperhanger.”  I assure you that you will not be disappointed.

But I digress.  Season Three of Justified has already started.  And that means that I have some catching up to do.  

Enjoy.