That Thing You Do!

I was toying around with "best Tom Hanks movies" and "best movie songs" as potential topics for blog posts, and it occurred to me that the That Thing You Do track is the perfect bridge between the two.  In fact, all things considered, this might be the very best song in movie history.

Consider that the track had to be....

a) believable as a mid-60's, Beatles-esque pop hit
b) catchy enough to stand on its own as a song
c) catchy enough that the audience doesn't get sick of hearing it so often during the movie
d) ...yet not SO catchy that it doesn't sound so polished that these random guys couldn't have come up with it.  To paraphrase David Mitchell, it basically had to sound simple but not so simple as to call attention to its simplicity.  

TTYD was nominated for the Best Original Song Oscar in 1996, but lost to "You Must Love Me," from Evita.  That's one of the low-key worst results in the last 25 years of Academy history.  Put it this way....You Must Love Me wasn't even on my radar if I'd made that "best movie songs" post 200 entries long.

Detroit Football

Nothing says U.S. Thanksgiving like Detroit Lions football, so what better day than to write about my one and only live NFL game.

My dad took my brother and I to the old Pontiac Silverdome in December 1996 to watch my beloved Green Bay Packers lay a 31-3 beating on the hapless Lions, who had little going for them besides Barry Sanders in the latter days (as it turned out) of his NFL career.  On the plus side, I can say I saw Sanders play, and I saw my Packers in action during their Super Bowl-winning season.  Those were about the only highlights of an overall sketchy day.

We made the trip via a bus tour group, which made enough stops on the way from London to Pontiac that I was able to finish all of Michael Crichton's "Disclosure" during the trip.  I don't know why that title sticks in my memory so much, as I don't remember much about it (or the movie, which I've never seen) other than the fact that I vaguely enjoyed it?  It must've been an easy read, since even as a quick reader, plowing through a 400-page book in maybe 3.5 to four hours is pretty fast.  Almost as fast as it took the lead character's life to fall apart due to one ill-fated decision and subsequent frame-up!  (I don't remember the main character's name, so I'll just call him Michael Douglas.)

But yeah, book aside, we made it to the Silverdome and strolled inside, though the madness that is the NFL tailgate scene.  As you might expect in a season that saw the Lions stink and the Packers dominate, there was a heavy, heavy contingent of Green Bay supporters in attendance, a detail that will become important later.  The parking lot ratio was at least 2-to-1 in favour of Packers vehicles, with the bratwurst cooking on the BBQ at every single one.  It was an overall jovial atmosphere, and I remember receiving a few high-fives from fellow fans, as I was decked out in a Reggie White jersey.

As jovial as it was on the outside, inside the Dome was a different story.  For those of you who never had the pleasure of attending an event at the Silverdome, imagine pure concrete and.....that's it, just concrete.  No banners, no visible merchandise stands, only a handful of concession stands, and barely even any electric light within the enclosed ramps and stairwells.  To say it was a prison-like atmosphere wasn't exactly true since I didn't openly see any barbed wire, but still, I wouldn't have blinked an eye if the ushers had been wearing orange jumpsuits.

We get to our seats in the upper deck, and if the parking lot was two-thirds Packers fans, it was at least 75% among the people in attendance.  Every successful Green Bay play was met with wild cheers, while the Lions' few exploits were met with either boos (from Packer fans) or indifference (their own fans).  Our own section of the upper level was almost all Packers supporters, another detail that will become important later.....or, right now!

The three of us were seated in front of four guys that I can only describe as generic bros.  They were all wearing Cowboys jerseys, which I'd normally think was inexplicable were it not for their strict adherence to my low opinion of Cowboys fans.  These four clowns spent the entire first half, drinking, talking loudly about anything besides the game, and making general nuisances of themselves.

It was to annoy even my dad, one of the more laid-back people around.  The last straw came when these guys returned to their seats after their umpteenth beer run and spilled a drink on my brother.  My dad was probably as upset as I've seen him, while the Four Coarsemen were more upset about their lost beer. 

Just as things seemed to be getting particularly heated, however, the cavalry arrived.  Namely, the people in the row on other side of these four guys, as well as the people in the two rows behind them....all of whom were Packers fans.  Suffice it to say, these folks didn't think much of Dallas fans to begin with, and since the targets were the family of a kid in a Reggie White jersey, enough was enough.  The Green Bay legions "politely" informed the four guys that if they had a problem with us, they had a problem with the entire section, upon which the quartet took off, never to be seen again.

To say this was more exciting than anything that happened on the field that day wouldn't have been a stretch.

So that was my one and only real live NFL experience.  (I say "real" since I also attended a Packers/Bills preseason game in Toronto a few years' later, though the preseason doesn't really count.)  While I'd still like to attend a game at Lambeau Field at some point, it's not exactly at the top of my bucket list since....well, seeing the NFL live kind of stinks.  Our personal experience aside, the NFL's determination to make the most TV-friendly possible sport has somewhat ruined the actual sensation of being there in person.  If you're there, you have to put up with weather, long stoppages in play, drunken hooligans, etc.  If you're at home, you have the comfort of your couch, the ability to channel-surf over to other games, a bathroom that isn't a crime against nature, etc.

Having never been to Detroit's Ford Field, however, perhaps one day I'll again check out another Packers appearance.  Tell you what, the next time Green Bay and Detroit meet in a playoff game, count me in.

Me In 2009 vs. Me In 2019

Competitors: Me vs. me from exactly 10 years ago

Battleground: A hall of mirrors, just to make this as cliched as possible

Prep: Both of us are woken up from a sound sleep, told what's going on, re-explained what's going on after our initial response of "whuh?" and then given five minutes to use the bathroom and whatnot.  I don't think a third explanation would be necessary, since I'd like to think that, at all ages of my life, I've been open to the idea of very weird stuff happening.

Rules: General UFC rules, since I've always hated the idea of being poked in the eyes, hit in the groin, had small joints manipulated, etc.  One change is that both of us get to compete in socks and moccasins, since the idea of fighting in bare feet always seemed vaguely gross.

Referee: I was tempted to say either the me from 1999 or the me from 2029, but let's just go totally neutral and pick the Referee Mario from the old Punch-Out game.

Match analysis: Let's face it, we're not dealing with two elite athletes here.  It's going to be a battle of (limited) stamina and (I want to say limited if I'm being realistic, but I'm also pretty arrogant, so...) strategy before it'll come down to pure strength or speed.  Plus, both now and then, I'm not a terribly violent person, so if anything, I'll want to chat with my old/new self moreso than fight them.  So we'll take the fight just as an intellectual challenge, mostly, and give it a go for a while before one of us will likely throw in the towel out of either frustration or boredom.  The 2009 me has the physical edge by dint of being in slightly better shape, as back then I was only obese as opposed to morbidly obese!  Not sure of a mental edge, since I think both of us stopped intellectually growing around 2007, and my knowledge of fighting (and by which, trying to figure out submission moves from watching the UFC and/or pro wrestling) hasn't evolved much since then.  Frankly, there's a chance one of me would let the other me actually apply the hold just to see what it felt like, or to see if I could counter out of it.  So yeah, since "allow oneself to be in the hold" is in play here, we're not dealing with high-level fight IQ.

Final verdict: Me in 2009, second round, submission.  Current me just gets tired and taps out, then the two of us go grab a soda pop and catch up on life.  "So we never did join that gym, eh?"  "Sigh...."

And no, there will be no actual pictures of me in 2009 or in 2019 posted for comparison's sake.  I wouldn't want to do that to the internet.

Ahimsa

U2's first-ever concert in India is coming up in a couple of weeks, so the band is commemorating the occasion with "Ahimsa," a collaboration with A.R. Rahman.  I like it!  It delights me that U2 might get into the phase of just randomly releasing music whenever they feel like it, or that they'll start releasing location-specific tracks.  Which means that when they eventually play my hometown of London, Ontario, their song "Richmond Row" will be a banger!

Then again, if U2's career degenerates to a point that they ever play my London, I may be too depressed to attend.

Anyway, Ahimsa!

Why So Serious?

*spoilers ahead*

The concept of “Joker” is pretty straight-forward.  Todd Phillips wanted to show how evil is often shaped by a person’s circumstances.  Arthur Fleck is a child of abuse, grows up in a broken home with a delusional mother, suffers from delusions and a few other mental illnesses himself but can’t get them treated due to a lack of a civic support system for the mentally ill, and is doing all this while trying to get by in the notorious cesspool that is Gotham City.  Between being beaten up, losing his job, being confronted with an apparent lie about his parentage and then the actual truth about his parentage, lashing out with a vigilante attack, and then being mocked by a TV talk show host, Arthur finally snaps, and the Joker as we (sort of) know him is created.  If Arthur just snaps, he becomes one of, sadly, thousands of semi-anonymous people who commit awful deeds on a near-daily basis.  But because his path leads him to becoming the Joker, it underlines how everyday evils can give birth to a terrifying, world-threatening kind of evil.

It’s an interesting premise, and somewhat of a different one for a “comic book movie” (though Joker has none of the trappings associated with your normal Marvel or DC movie) beyond just the fact that a movie focused entirely around the villain is unusual enough.  So, the question is, why did I dislike this film?

In short, it’s a classic case of an interesting premise on paper not translating into a particularly interesting movie.  Joker is a tough watch — the one “comic book movie” trope it does adopt is carrying the “grim-dark” nature of a Zach Snyder DC movie to an extreme.  Obviously any film with such a heavy message is under no obligation to be light, and frankly, having many light moments or even dark comic moments would’ve been even more off-putting.  But the issue is, the movie’s tone and overall direction is so apparent even five minutes in that it left me just dreading a slog for the next two hours, and it was a slog I received.  If you’re wondering if there are at least a half-dozen music cues of songs about laughter or clowns scored to melancholy or violent moments, you are correct!

I don’t mind a tough watch if a film has something unique to say, but while that interesting premise I mentioned earlier is “somewhat different” for a full movie, it’s not exactly new to the world of comics in general.  Probably a good three-quarters of all comic villains already have an established tragic backstory — even among Batman villains alone, Mr. Freeze and Two-Face are on the Mount Rushmore of comic villain origin stories.  Ascribing such a background to the Joker seems almost unnecessary, since the Joker quite famously doesn’t have a set origin* and more or less seems like Phillips had Arthur become this specific villain because the Joker is the most famous one around.

* = of course, we already got a canon-busting Joker origin in the original Tim Burton Batman movie, and the comics have never really done anything to entirely bust up the old continuity of the Joker being a criminal known as the “Red Hood,” who has a header into a vat of acid during an encounter with Batman.  And, Phillips kind of hedges anyway about the “validity” of the entire movie by establishing that Arthur is delusional, so it’s possible the whole thing could basically just be the version that he sees in his head, or the one that that he’s telling to the Arkham psychiatrist at the end.

The other problem I had with the film is that in trying to humanize the Joker, I feel it goes too far in trying to sympathize or even excuse him.  To use the inevitable comparison to The Dark Knight, Heath Ledger’s Joker was an agent of pure chaos within what he felt was a chaotic system that deserved to be overthrown.  Yet that film, and Ledger’s performance, never let us forget that Joker was malevolent.  He’s fine with destroying everything and everyone for his own amusement, whereas in Arthur’s case, both his actions and the whole Joker movement for lack of a better term are presented as being borderline justifiable.  The Joker isn’t supposed to be a violent Robin Hood — while the Joker may be selective in his specific targets, his overall target is just “everyone.” 

Contrast this to Arthur, who only lashes out at those who have wronged him.  The goons on the subway, his co-worker, his mother, and Murray Franklin* all “have it coming” to some extent.  We aren’t shown what Arthur did to Zazie Beetz’s character and her kid, and leaving it ambiguous is a bit of a copout move on Phillips’ part since a definitive answer helps the narrative either way.  If Arthur leaves them unharmed, it shows he hasn’t entirely yet gone around the bend; if he does harm them, it shows he is ultimately evil, which better enforces the whole point of the movie. 

* = by the way, I shouldn’t say that this movie is entirely humourless, since the unintentional comedy of legendarily grumpy late-night talk show guest Robert De Niro playing a late night talk show host is off the charts.  Especially since his big comic catchphrase is, simply, “that’s life!”  Even Jay Leno would find this guy too much of a hack.  By the way, De Niro was cast as an homage to his role in ‘The King Of Comedy,’ but actually having De Niro there probably pushes the homage into straight ripoff territory.  The line between homage and ripoff, by the way, is called the De Palma Threshold.

Not giving us an answer either way strikes me less of Phillips wanting to create some mystery, and more not wanting to have the audience turn on Arthur — except, by this point we should be turning on Arthur because HE’S THE JOKER.  I mentioned earlier about how so many comic villains have tragic origins, and probably at least half of that number manifest that past into some type of a code of ethics.  Again, looking at Batman villains alone, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Harley Quinn, Catwoman wouldn’t have killed Zazie and her youngster; Riddler or Penguin probably not; hell, even Two-Face would spare them if his coin flipped the right way.  Adding the Joker to the list of “villains with ethics” is the only real breach of comics continuity that I have an issue with, since it goes against one of the fundamental aspects of what the Joker is all about.  To him, there’s no such thing as “they had it coming” since in his view, everyone is inherently corrupt and thus has it coming sooner or later.

My other hot take about the film is, and I have to be quiet if any angry Academy voters see this….

┻┳|
┳┻| _
┻┳| •.•) psst….
┳┻|⊂ﾉ 
┻┳|
┳┻|
┻┳|
┳┻|
┻┳|
┳┻|
┻┳|
┳┻|
┻┳|
┳┻|
┻┳|
┳┻|
┻┳|
┳┻|
┻┳|
┳┻|
┻┳|
┳┻| _
┻┳| •.•) …this isn’t a very good Joaquin Phoenix performance.
┳┻|⊂ﾉ
┻┳|


Phoenix, usually a reliably great actor, isn’t bringing anything new to the table in his portrayal of damaged Arthur Fleck, or even how he shifts into fully-formed Joker mode by the end of the film.  Arthur seems like a poor man’s version of Freddie Quell, a much better Phoenix character from “The Master.”  As for Jokerized Arthur, even accounting for the fact that he’s still in the embryonic stages of his criminal form, there isn’t the sense of controlled menace that should be surrounding the Joker at all times.  It doesn’t help Phoenix that Ledger’s performance is still so fresh in everyone’s mind, and I don’t at all think Phoenix deserves a Best Actor Oscar for this (though it would be classic Academy to award a seemingly overdue performer for a lesser role rather than one of their headline performances).

“Joker” is an interesting movie, hence all my words about it, but I hesitate to call it an actual good movie.  I don’t know if this specific kind of story needed to be told about this specific character, and even if so, I’m not sure Todd Phillips is the director to make it.  But hey, this movie is set to make over a billion dollars, so what do I know?  To quote legendary TV funnyman Murray Franklin, that’s life.

Bob Mortimer

I think my favourite part of Bob Mortimer's "Would I Lie To You?" appearances is that, of all the funny people and funny stories ever featured on the show, nobody makes the other comedians crack up as much as Bob Mortimer.  If Miles Jupp, who laughs at everything, was ever booked on the same episode as Bob, I think Jupp would literally die laughing.

Hopscotch

Hopscotch is, at once, both a moderately-entertaining Walter Matthau vehicle and the easiest game ever played.  I can't truly attest to the former, since I sort of half-watched it on TV years ago and don't really remember anything besides Matthau's genial charm, and can definitely attest to the latter, since I may have been the Pele of hopscotch.

A brief rundown of the rules, since it's possible most people don't actually know the rules of hopscotch, even though their childhood playground or schoolyard almost surely had multiple courts stenciled onto the pavement.  Most "games" consisted of kids just skipping through the numbers like they'd vaguely seen on TV, without the key aspect of picking up the stone.  It would be a little like practicing putting on a green without any holes.

Once you add the stone, however.....to quote Carl Weathers, baby, you've got a stew going!  To say it added excitement would be an understatement, and yet here I go, understating the whole thing since for an extreme talent like myself, the game was simply too easy to catch my interest.

Picture it: a young Mark is in third grade, and randomly strolling around his schoolyard during recess looking for something to do.  It was a rare day when Mark didn't go off by himself and make-believe he was a Ghostbuster, as Mark decided to be social for a change.  He stumbles upon some classmates playing hopscotch and, after a brief recitation of the rules, he decides to join in.

The stone is tossed onto the court, and the game is afoot.  And the foot is the game, in many cases, as Mark easily jumps through every square with room to spare between his feet and the lines, while then easily bending over to snatch the stone in one fell swoop and returning to the end.  Task complete.

It was so easy that honestly, I thought I'd gotten something wrong.  Maybe a rule wasn't explained properly, or I was supposed to yell HOPSCOTCH in a goofy voice while grabbing the stone or something of that ilk.  Could a game possibly be this simple?  Maybe so, since my classmates reacted like I'd just a four-minute mile.  "Oh wow, have you played before?"  Nope.  Beginner's luck....or the birth of a natural.  I sailed through that course as easily as Walter Matthau delivered a wry one-liner.

Now, just to add a dash of humility, I should note that the court was gigantic.  The squares had to have been at least 40cm x 40 cm, so it really was no problem for the foot of an eight-year-old.  And yet, my classmates apparently had the balance of a drunken Stephen Leacock character and somehow couldn't navigate this seemingly simple course.  I guess I was a bit tall for my age, and perhaps had a bit of extra leverage?  It's at this point where I bemoan the fact that I was already 5'10" by the time I was 12 or 13, and then just stopped growing forever, dashing my early hopes of being an NBA player. 

Whatever the reasoning, I was somehow a hopscotch master and everyone else struggled.  Since there was no challenge, I didn't seek out many more opponents, and I think my interest in the game began and ended that same afternoon.  Maybe if there was a professional hopscotch league on TV, I could've had more of an interest, in an attempt to emulate heroes like hopscotch legends Angus "The Hopped-Up Scottish Man" McFayden, or Sammy "Stone-Grabber" Williams.  Without the incentive of a lucrative professional career, however, it was back to busting ghosts for me.

For years afterward, every time I saw a hopscotch court, I began to sing Madonna's "This Used To Be My Playground."  Oh, what might have been.  What might have been. 

I would try scotchin' it up again one of these days, but my god, just imagine the inevitable hamstring tear.

Cities/Big Business/I Zimbra

"Stop Making Sense" is the best concert film of all time, and in my opinion, one of the actual greatest films of all time.  Yet while I've spent years and years adoring this film and the soundtrack album, it somehow never occurred to me that there was extra footage.

Turns out, during a random read of Stop Making Sense's Wikipedia page, two songs were actually left out of the theatrical release (but included on the VHS release and as DVD extras).  Needless to say, both performances are incredible, and again, HOW did it take me until 2019 to see these?  How did I get here?  This is not my beautiful house!

The 3D

3D = Double Dipsy Doodle, in this case

I wrote that whole post the other day without actually explaining why "the ol' Dipsy Doodle" had come to mind (not that my nonsensical ramblings usually require inspiration).  It's because after years of never hearing that phrase ever mentioned by anyone other than my grandfather, I inexplicably heard it twice in a two-day span.

1. my car was being serviced at Canadian Tire, and they were wheeling it out of the garage.  I could look into the garage and see my car moving, only to be confused when it was being driven towards the back of the facility rather than out the actual front door.  The guy at the desk explained that there was some kind of machinery taking up the entire central area of the garage, so the mechanic in my car would have to do "the ol' dipsy doodle" around the thing in order to leave.

The clerk was in his early 50's, which still makes him ostensibly too young to know that reference, but I was tickled nonetheless.  Maybe he heard it from his grandfather too, or maybe a parent, or maybe it just fits in with Canadian Tire's vague old-timey vibe that eighty-year-old slang can still be heard on the reg.  Just imagine, you could go into a Canadian Tire in 2099 and some clerk will use the old-timey phrase "on the reg."

2. while listening to the Maple Leafs on the radio, Joe Bowen mentioned that a player did "the ol' dipsy doodle" while making a clever move with the puck.  This mention was less surprising, since Joe Bowen is 68 years old and is as old-school as it gets.  The man may talk exclusively in old-timey references, and/or references to anyone who has ever played for the Maple Leafs since World War II.

Do I currently have a fantasy hockey team that I have just renamed "the ol' Dipsy Doodles"?  You are 100 percent correct.