Dire Protest

Joe and I went to see The Brothers Bloom because it was directed by the same guy who did Brick, which Joe is a fan of -- but gollyalmighty, if we hadn't been trapped in by people in our aisle on both sides we probably would have bolted in the first fifteen minutes from the assault of derivative stylization and smug quirkiness up on the screen. A flick about two con artist brothers who go all dirty rotten scoundrels on an wealthy young eccentric woman to con her out of a million bucks, the whole picture felt like you'd seen it all before, but done with a mishmash of Wes Anderson/Harold And Maude-esque whimsy (all the way down to the Cat Stevens on the soundtrack) meets René Magritte with a little James Joycean allegory to boot. And if that couldn't sound more pretentious and annoying, then rest assured, it was. The rich young woman's character could have been phenomenally more interesting given her sad background, if they hadn't have painted her with such a heavy-handed cypher brush trying to keep her "interesting" and "quirky" to go along with the extra doses of quirky ladled everywhere else. I mean, I could see what the director was trying to do, and I can appreciate the aesthetic. But other than the stylish clothes and romantic European scenery it really isn't anything you hadn't already seen before, story-wise. In fact it seemed to telegraph its final denouement just from some of the dialogue early in the picture, which left me barely holding my head up from exhaustion waiting for the inevitable and merciful end to come. After that I needed a cup of coffee, because Mike and Al were meeting us outside to re-enter for the second feature, and I definitely wanted to be more awake for this one.

I think that I may have had vague memories of the Canadian metal band Anvil back in the early 80's, although I really wasn't listening to much metal during that time (unless it was the occasional Brit metal like Iron Maiden or Motorhead). Although watching Anvil! The Story of Anvil didn't bring back any memories from their hilariously Spinal Tap-ian repertoire and stage antics. In fact there were moments where you couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't some elaborate put-on with all the This Is Spinal Tap references, like the visit to Stonehenge, the "Hello Cleveland!", or that legendary metal producer Chris Tsangarides' amplifiers go to "11" (not to mention that Anvil drummer's name is Robb Reiner). But the reality of the picture is far funnier, and sadder, and much more fascinating for being the very thing that This Is Spinal Tap spoofs. Childhood best friends Robb Reiner and lead guitarist Steve "Lips" Kudlow are now in their fifties, married, fathers, and doing gruntwork during the day to support their middle class homes and lives. But their dream of hitting the big time never died, and their frustrations, desires, and their love for playing never once feel false. Neither do their fights, which Joe as a concert promoter for fifteen years has seen his fair share of. But as naive as these guys seem at times to the likelihood of fifty-year-olds hoping to make it big in a decade where their style of "hair metal" hasn't been in vogue for thirty years, you really can't help but root for them along the way. I highly recommend it, whether you're a metal fan or not. Even moreso if you are.

Oh yeah, the New York Dolls concert is tomorrow night. And I have a date! :D Let's see if I can still remember how to change clothes while driving down the interstate coming straight off from work.