One of my favorite films of all time is also probably one of the most overlooked: Wim Wenders’ Until The End of the World. Released in 1991, and set in 1999, it tells a multi-layered tale about a novelist (Eugene Fitzpatrick, played by Sam Neill) who follows his dreamy and spontaneous wife (Claire Tourneur, played by Solveig Dommartin) around the world as she chases a mysterious man (Sam Farber, alias Trevor McPhee - William Hurt) from country to country, finally ending up in Australia, where she discovers that he is the son of an American scientist who has developed a special camera that will enable the blind to see. As a backdrop to all of this, the world is wondering if America will shoot down a failing Indian nuclear satellite. All of which gives the impression that this is a Sci-Fi film. Which it is, in part, utilizing some very well-executed realistic-future sets and props. But more importantly, it’s a poetic tale of pursuing your dreams, understanding the connectedness of things, and one of the quickest tours of multi-cultural quirks ever captured on film. So why am I writing about this film now? Because a friend just gave me their 3-Disc PAL format DVD version. Part of the reason for the film’s original weak performance in the states was the fact that it was 160 minutes long, which is ironic, because the actual complete version on this disc is 280 minutes, in three parts. The original release was beautiful, but this even more beautiful-er. The additional footage smooths some minor bumps in the rhythm of the original release, and the breaks are perfectly timed for the plot points. It’s almost like watching an epic mini-series. Even if you never check out this film, check out the soundtrack, which in typical Wim Wenders fashion is an incredibly diverse and listenable mix including Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, Patti Smith, Jane Siberry with k.d. lang, T-Bone Burnett, Depeche Mode, U2, R.E.M., Can, Elvis Costello, David Byrne, and…Pygmies! Whenever I haven’t prepared a mix for a party I throw this on and people praise my genius.

The entertainment industry in general (music, film, television) seems to me to have made some secret suicide pact with itself. The RIAA constantly suing its customer base, the film industry’s vain and annoying attempts at copy protection, and the television industy’s gift for cancelling top-rated shows with rabidly loyal viewers all suggest a weird death-wish. Which (because of the show’s name) is ironic in the case of ABC’s cancellation of Pushing Daisies, one of the better (and critically acclaimed) programs on TV in a while. I must confess to possibly over-identifying with the show because of the fact that when I was seven I threw the Frisbee that made my first dog get hit by a car (I’m serious. His name was Snoopy), but viewer’s and critic’s reactions seem to validate my surprise at the show’s early demise. Put Pushing Daisies prematurely six feet under with shows like Firefly, Deadwood, Arrested Development, Enterprise, and Freaks & Geeks. If you haven’t seen the Tim Burtonesque genius of Pushing Daisies, it is available on DVD. But since ABC doesn’t seem to care what we think, why should we care what they think? Go ahead and Bittorrent it. On the bright side of all of this, maybe now Anna Friel will have time to notice that I exist…

Giving “noodles al-dente” an entirely new meaning.

After seeing writer/director Mitchell Lichtenstein’s Teeth, I’m convinced that director David Cronenberg can peacefully retire, resting comfortably with the knowledge that someone has picked up the torch he dropped a while back. I make the comparison only because in Teeth, Lichtenstein masterfully does something Cronenberg honed to a science: take an implausible premise, and present it so implausibly that the viewer is forced into suspending disbelief against their wishes, almost in the manner of a stage play. In this case, the implausible premise is a virtuous and virginal high school girl who manifests the mythological phenomena Vagina Dentata. Teeth is brilliant because it so artfully misses every mark, and creates its own along the way. It’s a graphic horror film. It’s a coming of age story. It’s a comedy. It’s a cautionary tale about respecting your sexuality. If the film weren’t crafted with such clear intentions to be what it is, it would be one of the worst films ever made. And that’s part of the beauty of what this film does; it feels like it’s somehow self-aware that at any moment it might become incredibly bad, and thereby somehow ends up being quite good. If you hate Cronenberg, you might not care for this film. It’s also briefly rather graphic at points, so if you’re not into seeing the occasional “John Bobbit“, steer clear as well. But if you enjoyed, for instance, the stylish over-the-top-ness of Crash (no, the one based on J.G. Ballard’s novel, not this one) then give it a go. It’s worth it, if only to see the gynecologist screaming “Vagina Dentata! Vagina Dentataha-ha-haaghh!” View the trailer on YouTube or in HD at Apple.

Before anyone starts identifying me as some smellibate, basement-dwelling gamer for talking about Battlestar Galactica, get with the program. Even if you’re not a fan of Sci-Fi, you owe it to yourself to check out one of the highest quality productions on television in a long time. The production values are theater-worthy, the acting is mostly very solid, the story arc is well developed, and, well, it’s kind of saucy, too. Start with the pilot and move forward until it almost jumps the shark in season three with the contrived boxing match episode, then skip a few episodes and pick back up at the beginning of season four. Which will bring you up to speed enough to watch the upcoming webisodes in which they reveal which of the long-running characters is gay. Yes, partly a cheap marketing plan, but also a pretty hip and daring move for a show whose fan-base is probably the homophobic smellibate type I mentioned earlier. Existing viewers, this may be a spoiler so read on at risk: in spite of the fact that many are dreaming that it’s Apollo, rumor has it  that it’s Lt. Felix Gaeta, otherwise already known by fan boys as “Lt. Gaydar”.Why wasn’t it a bigger deal when they did the lesbian thing?

To me, the quintessential holiday films are Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and A Charlie Brown Christmas (although a friend just rabidly recommended The Hebrew Hammer, so I’ll be checking that out.) Rudolph is a fave partly because of its at times almost macabre vibe, but mostly because I’m essentially a misfit toy myself. Charlie Brown is on my list partly because I’m such a depressive git sometimes around the holidays but mostly because of the weird Vince Guaraldi music, like the catatonia-inspiring tune the kids sing when they’re skating (Christmas Time is Here, mp3). I’m sick of seeing lists of “10 Whatever” holiday films; any suggestions?

Our quadrennial fascination with red vs blue (here’s an interesting NYTimes map, by the way) reminded me of the brilliant machinima web series Red vs. Blue that debuted back in 2003. After taking a look back at a few episodes (many clock in at around 2-3 minutes) I realized they hold up pretty well, in spite of the media used to create the series. I’m no machinima fan (please, if you know of other machinima this clever, let me know) but the almost existential humor the creators utilized was actually perfectly suited to the stiff, personality-less medium of the Halo game engine. There are episodes that still make me laugh out loud. I recommend starting at Episode 1, as the feel and characters evolve over time. Jumping into later episodes would probably feel like tuning into a fan-driven TV series at the end of its run. This really isn’t just nerd stuff; the Lincoln Center’s film society for instance, described Red vs. Blue as “truly as sophisticated as Samuel Beckett.” As a Beckett fan I might not go that far, but it is pretty damn clever. Although most episodes can be found on YouTube, they look and sound much better in the Windows Media or Quicktime formats found at the Red vs. Blue web site.

It’s at first strange to think, and then on reflection not all that surprising, that the screenplay for The Saddest Music in the World was written by Kazuo Ishiguro, author of The Remains of the Day. Ishiguro seems to have a gift for capturing a distant or past reality that doesn’t actually exist. If you’re a film lover, director Guy Maddin’s treatment of the story is a joy. Shot in a variety of styles that range from 20’s/30’s American silent film to German expressionism to a sort of Lynchian absurdism, the film somehow remains cohesive and ends up capturing the feeling of a mid-twentieth century absurdist play. If you’re not a film lover, I almost wouldn’t recommend watching the film; a lot of what gives the movie its charm relies on its quirky nods to established older styles of filmmaking. Isabella Rossellini (who still doesn’t know she is my secret wife) is cast cleverly in one of the stranger roles of her career. As a director, it’s hard to lay claim to this sort of thing when your lead has been in David Lynch films like Blue Velvet and Wild at Heart, but I think Maddin managed to take her almost as far as she takes herself. And she takes herself pretty far, as you know if you saw her Green Porno (NSFW if you’re a bug) shorts of a few years ago.

I’ve mentioned before why my goldfish-like attention span is a perfect fit for the YouTube era of short media. That’s why I was especially excited recently to discover two new HD-quality sites that focus specifically on short films and music videos. The clip at left is the first episode of Emily Time, a weekly show delivered only via the web at historyandtheuniverse.com, along with another show called Big Book of Lies. Both programs were created by David Lampson, a 29-year-old television writer from Boston who produces the shows in Buenos Aires. Both shows are quirky, cinematically slick, and intelligent. Big Book of Lies, for instance, features a dryly absurd, on-going subplot about Noam Chomsky’s sons Buck (a struggling beatbox artist) and John (a cop). On a grander scale, Australia-based PortableFilmFestival.com has a broad selection of seriously high-quality shorts that are “curated” by independent film professionals, guaranteeing a certain level of quality of content. After a painless (takes about 10 seconds and they don’t make you jump through any hoops) account signup, you’re able to view AND download some of the best indy film out there.

I smoke and drink at the office, flirt with my secretary every chance I get, and my wife has dinner on the table every night when I get home from work. That is, if I get home from work. Maybe I stopped at my secret lover’s house on the way home, pretending I worked late and fell asleep at the desk. The world is full of bullet bras and men’s mags, but being divorced is considered scandalous. I smack my friends’ kids on the face when they misbehave, and no-one objects. Who Am I? I am a Mad Man. Or rather one of the Mad Men. I can’t stop watching this show, not because I’m a chauvinistic, chain-smoking, child-abusing alcoholic (although I may be one or two of those things) but because the creator of the show (primarily Matthew Weiner) has done such a brilliant job of capturing that weird sixties vibe of sexual/moral repression mixed with the new-found freedoms of the “modern life”. And done so with exceptional attention to style and detail (except for the typefaces, apparently). It’s like peeling away the simulacrum that was “Bewitched”. Instead of magic and a bumbling Darrin Stevens, we get reality and Don Draper. I think I’ll be obligated to buy the Zippo DVD/Lighter combo, but for now I’m torrenting the first few episodes.

Sadly, the question everyone’s asking is not “will he relapse?” but “OMFG, for Billy Bob Thornton?”