http://www.todaysbigthing.com/2008/09/09

Personally I don’t see this ever happening. My money is on an alien takeover before any natural disaster such as this. However, I do suspect that Pink Floyd’s “Great Gig In the Sky” will be playing during the apocalypse, regardless of how it occurs.

Terry Gilliam is one of the most unique and polarizing directors in the history of Hollywood. Perhaps best know for the dark cloud of bad luck that seems to follow him from production to production, Gilliam has earned a reputation amongst cinephiles as one of the last true mavericks of film making, as equally concerned with telling fantastical stories as he is in presenting them in the most surreal fashion possible. Gilliam got his start as the only American in the highly revered comedy troupe Monty Python, contributing to the Flying Circus with the shows very distinctive cartoons and eventually directing the troupes big screen ventures, ‘In Search of the Holy Grail’ and “The Life of Brian”. The almost Brechtian tone of the Python’s comedy has had a very obvious impact on Gilliam’s later work behind the camera. This is perhaps most apparent in his most critically acclaimed film, “Brazil”, but also, to a lesser extent in the cult classics, “The Adventures of Baron Munchausen” and “Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas”.

2. The Coen Bros

Ethan (the writer) and Joel (the director) Cohen are pretty big names these days after their colossal success with No Country For Old Men and the massive cult following behind The Big Lebowski. The Coen’s are undoubtedly autuers as they often use the same actors in their films (John Goodman, Frances McDormand and Steve Buscemi), and their films, as distinctly removed from each other as possible, do have some recurring themes and images (stolen money, witless criminals and extreme violence marked by an undercurrent of dark humor). One thing that makes the Coen’s so intriguing is how eager they seem to be to jump from genre to genre. For instance: They followed the very somber crime drama Fargo with the zany, almost splapstick Big Lebowski, as well as making the surreal David Lynch inspired Barton Fink while filming Miller’s Crossing, their criminally underrated attempt at a Golden Era gangster film. Known as much for their amazing skill with actors as they are for their dark humor and eccentric private lives, the Coen Brothers are one of the few directors that have continuely surprised their audiences, nearly 20 years after they first burst onto the scene.

In my humble opinion Fargo, The Big Lebowski, Barton Fink, Raising Arizona and No Country For Old Men are five of the greatest American films released during my lifetime. Today the Coens are truly one of our greatest institutions.

3. Stanley kubrick

There isn’t much to say about Kubrick that hasn’t already been said a thousand times. He is technically one of the greatest directors to ever step behind the camera. Kubrick began his career as a photographer, which explains 1) the amazing cinematography found in all of his films and 2) the almost static feel of most of his films and most memorable scenes. After all, what is 2001: A Space Odyssey other than a brilliant collection of Hubble images?

Kubrick died during post-production for one of his lesser films, Eyes Wide Shut. Even still, the film succeeds in many ways that other similar films do not. Kubrick’s influence can be found in most of Spielberg’s work (Spielberg considered him a mentor), as well as Paul Thomas Anderson’s more recent efforts, namely the magnum opus There Will Be Blood. It’s also possible that Kubrick may have influenced Quentin Tarantino, although he has yet to admit this. However, consider this: Kubricks first film (The Killers) depicts the aftermath of a robbery, and is one of the first to do so without regard for chronology, it obviously must have influenced Tarantino’s debut Reservoir Dogs, which is alarmingly similiar in tone. Also, Kubrick was regarded as a master of matching music to images (2001 and A Clockwork Orange are perfect examples), long before Tarantino matched Steelers Wheelers “Stuck In the Middle With You” to Mr. Blondes excrutiatingly painful interrogation of a hapless one eared cop.

If you’re not familiar with Kubrick your either in for a treat or one of the more excruciatingly boring times of your life. Kubrick is known for making very slow-paced and arguably inaccessible films, making him the ire of many casual movie watchers. If you’d like to give him a chance, just know that his films are more novella than popcorn fodder. They are deep, long and thought provoking, but all will disappoint if viewed for pure entertainment purposes.

4. Quentin Tarantino

Imagine if someone made a career off of Kinks, Talking Heads, and Pixies covers. Imagine this person became more famous for their cover versions than the bands who originally wrote these songs. In a way that’s what Tarantino has done his whole career. Make no mistake, Tarantino is a master at recycling cult properties and repackaging them as something entirely new to the unsuspecting masses. And yet this almost crude description does the mans genius a great disservice. Unlike DJ Clue (“Desert Storm! New Shit!”) or Pat “The Honky” Boone, Tarantino rises above intellectual theft by adding something intangible and extremely urgent into the films he steals. It’s as if Tarantinos’ whole career has been an homage to the kind of cult films he obviously champions (spqghetti westerns, French New Wave, Kung Fu and 70′s exploitation films, most notably). Even at his best (Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown), this former video store clerk turned infamous auteur has made no reservations about his inspirations, often making it his mission to bring long overdue attention to the obscure films and directors who inspired him. Tarantinto is the quintessential film geek, and our greatest film resource since Marty Scorcese broke onto the scene in the late 80′s. Forget the shocking violence and the liberal use of profanity; Tarantino is the freshest and most imitated voice in American cinema to date. Despite all of his affection for the past, Tarantino is truly the front runner of the post-modern film movement. In fact his entire career could be described as an exercise in postmodernism. If imitation is the highest form of flattery then Quentin Tarantino is the biggest kiss ass in Hollywood history. And coming from a film nut like myself, that is a sincere compliment.

All of Quentin’s films are worth watching at least once, as none of them sacrifice entertainment value at the expense of art, and each one is an undeniable pop classic. It’s probably true that Tarantino shares more sensibilities with an Andy Warhol than he does with a Stanley Kubrick. Other films not directed by QT but written by him include “True Romance”, “Natural Born Killers”, “From Dusk Till Dawn” and 1/4 of the director’s exercise, “Four Rooms”. Quentin has actually said on more than one occasion that the best scene he has yet to write appears in “True Romance”, in a distinctly “Tarantinoized” interrogation between Dennis Hooper and a fantastic Christopher Walken. That scene alone is worth the rental.

5. Paul Thomas Anderson

PTA has only recently slipped his way into my favorite directors. I’m not particualarly passionate about him except to say that his a thinking man’s Tarantino and stretches himself from film to film in a way few young directors would even consider. PTA grew up with money and contacts and as such, is known as sort of a “golden boy” within Hollywood. However, in only 5 films (Hard Eight, Boogie Nights, Magnolia, Punch Drunk Love and There Will Be Blood) PTA has tackled nearly every genre and decade, as well as emulating and in many ways building upon, countless aueteurs from the past. Like Tarantino, PTA seems to draw obvious influences from directors before him. “Boogie Nights” played like Scorcese circa “Goodfellas”. “Magnolia” felt intentionaly Altman-esque. And recently PTA admitted that “There Will Be Blood” is his attempt at making a Kurbick.

6. Terrance Mallick

7. Sergio Leone

8. Martin scorcese

9. Francis Ford Coppola

10. Christopher Nolan

11. Michel Gondry

12. David Lynch

13. Richard Linklater

14. Danny Boyle

15. Sidney Lumet

This guy is going to be nominated for (and hopefully will win) an Oscar someday real soon, trust me on this. Catch up on his films, camp out for his premieres, name your firstborn after him (that’s assuming you have any idea how to pronounce his name, because it’s a humiliating mystery to me). The point I’m trying to make is: I’m going on record and saying that this Chiwetel character is going to be a star one day, and if you want to be ahead of the curve so you can claim credit on it, you better act now.

If you don’t recognize him from his pictures on IMDB, Chiwetel is a British actor who has been popping up and stealing scenes for quite a few years now in films like “Children of Men” and “American Gangster” and “Inside Man”. IMDB has him listed as being born in ’74 which, if my calculations are correct, would mean that he’s 34 and probably a seasoned veteran within the film industry at this point in time. His next big project will be Roland Emmerlich’s (ID4, The Day After Tomorrow) upcoming apocalyptic flick, 2012, which is something of importance to me, but I will get into that another time. Rest assured this movie will be a critical disaster but will take more than enough from the Summer box-office. Shortly after 2012 is released, Chiwetel will appear in Toussaint, a film about a Haitian revolution starring Don Cheadle, Mos Def and Angela Basset, all of whom are talented actors capable of earning critical attention. Perhaps this could be Chiwetel’s breakthrough role. However, this film is being directed by Danny Glover, so its best to keep those expectations low until a few advance screenings have been conducted.

Anyway, the reason I’m giving credit to Mr. Ejiofor today is because I recently rented the MMA inspired-David Mamet-filmed, Redbelt. The film is standard Mamet, filled to the brim with venomous dialogue and the usual assortment of hyper masculine men, posturing for top billing in a stone-faced pissing-contest. Instead of the predatory salesmen of Glengarry Glen Ross or the compulsively violent gangsters of The Untouchables, Redbelt may feature Mamet’s most emotionally evolved cast of characters to date. Quite an accomplishment considering that the film is basically an Eastern-tinged parable about a lone gun looking to maintain some guiding principles in the ego-infested world of mixed martial arts. The film is vastly entertaining, though it fails to pack the kind of brutal impact that Mamet’s earlier, flashier work manages with ease. It’s an interesting direction for one of America’s most controversial and polarizing playwrights. By harnessing a brisk pace impossible by theatrical standards, it appears that Mamet is making a statement that he is fully committed to life in Hollywood and has all but left his Off-Broadway roots behind. By casting Chiwetel in the lead role, he has proven that, at the very least, he will be a remarkable judge of talent for years to come.

If you’re interested in Mixed Martial Arts and testosterone, by all means rent Redbelt. If, however, you want to see Chiwetel at his very best, pick up a copy of Dirty Pretty Things, a fine British film (but in English) which earned Chiwetel his first serious award consideration, nearly 6 years ago today. I promise you won’t be dissapointed.

Great! Can I get a little light on the cheap seats in back?

Thanks. That’s much better.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, little purple alligators that command me to kill: feast your eyes upon what may very well be the last legacy of one Mr. Justin Lee Pakuris. Of course I’m using the word “legacy” loosely here. By “legacy” I mean it is possible, though highly unlikely, that this totally spontaneous and completely insincere attempt at creating a blog could one day turn into something I’m proud of. In fact, there is even a chance (much like the chance of winning the lottery or passage to Adriana Lima’s vagina), that this action (taken solely on a whim mind you) could even become profitable. I’ve never aspired to be a blogger, but if it allows me to gain 45 lbs, sleep until noon and convert Mountain Dew and Twinkies into energy like sunlight to chlorophyll, then count me in.

For whatever that’s worth.

But just think about it- How much was I born to be a blogger? If I were a blogger I would finally be my own boss. Imagine the hours. Imagine the dress code. Hell, I wouldn’t have to answer to anyone. Except Weber, that is. He already cleans and cooks around the apartment, I can’t imagine he would react positively to his roommates “Trouserless Tuesdays” policy or my intentions to make his bedroom the “smokers lobby”. But besides Weber and his puritanical opposition to my intended corporate environment, I would be a slave to no man! I could sleep in late and then wake up at whichever hour of the (after)noon I see fit. Then I could lounge around in my boxers, eating cereal and watching Sportscenter while I catch up on the exciting world of internet pornography. In other words, if I was a blogger my life would be exactly as it is now being unemployed, only I wouldn’t be bored and feel guilty all the time.

Surely succeeding as a professional blogger would change my life for the better. It would be like Christmas in July (and for a Jew ironically). Finally, being me would actually be useful. Finally all the weird shit that flies through my head would aid, not hinder me. Fuck you ADD! Screw you, teachers who unanimously labeled me insolent! If I became a blogger it would be like a retard realizing that he could fly. It’s almost like it would validate my whole existence.

Think about it: I’m unemployed. I’m bored. I’m chaffing. I start a blog because it seems time consuming and assuages all this guilt I have about being unproductive. I put in a few hours of work at first; five or six entries. Suddenly being unemployed gets a whole lot more bearable. Then the money stuff happens. I’m not really sure how you make money through blogging but I think the “Invisible hand” has something to do with it (I’ll iron out the specific details later). But after I’ve figured out how to make money off of my incoherent and highly irreverent ranting, before you know it I’ll be a professional blogger. Actually, I’ll be a professional blogger who doesn’t have myspace and has had sex at least a dozen times. And that makes me a rarity in a field built on variety. Booyah!

So with that said (and your time sufficiently wasted), I would like to get to the meat of this, my first blog entry. And in true iconoclastic fashion, I’d like to begin my blogging career by attacking blogging itself. Specifically the blogging world. Or the “blogosphere” if you drink Starbucks and read Picthfork religiously.

First a confession: Just the very notion of “blogging” turns me off.

But wait, you’re probably thinking. Isn’t this the first entry of many? Aren’t you launching a blog yourself?

Good question. And I have an easy answer:

Go fuck yourself.

Seriously. This blog will be ripe with contradictions. Get used to it.

See the fact is, while I’m excited about the prospect of blogging I’m terrified of being grouped in with 90% of the blogging world (for obvious reasons), and I’m even more terrified of being a part of the blogging movement. I’m equally torn between feelings of elation and repulsion right now. On the one hand, I have the three qualifications of every successful blogger in that I am a) a narcissist, b) redundant c) in love with myself. Furthermore, I have the false conception that not only are the escapades of my daily life worth recording for future reference, but that my perspective on these events is so fresh and compelling that everyone else in the world should be able to hear about them as well.

You’re welcome by the way.

However on the other hand, my ego is so bloated that whenever I’ve given writing a blog any serious consideration, I always end up convincing myself that I’m above the whole thing altogether. It’s not that I feel I’m above other bloggers (at this point I’d be happy to be the Matt Christopher of the blogging world), but it’s more that I’m very apprehensive about rallying behind something I feel so much contempt for.

See, in theory blogging should be a good thing: It stresses self-expression, which is a rarity in this corporate wasteland we call 21st century America. And blogging seems to be good for our sense of communal morale, as it undoubtedly brings complete strangers together to laugh and hurl expletives at one another through the anonymity of the internet. Whether its a 45 year old pederast writing suggestive messages to a poorly parented 13 year old or a bunch of gleefully ignorant Republicans jumping on a messageboard to slam Senator O’Bama for not wearing a lapel pin, the internet brings people all over the world together, provided they have enough money for a computer and a solid high-speed connection. The internet is a pretty big part of the globalization, and I think that’s ultimately a good thing.

But when all is said an done, blogging is just too easy to implicate in the moral and social degradation of mine and future generations. When I was a kid (that is, before Al Gore invented the internet and manbearpig), kids (read:girls and drama club) wrote in journals or diaries if they felt the urge to express themselves. There was no blogging because there was no need for blogging: journals and diaries were kept secret and were intended solely for archival purposes. If you kept a journal you didn’t want anyone to know about it and you sure as hell didn’t want them to read it! Journals and diaries were used for keeping secrets and venting about your parents and schoolteachers (or so I’m told… I was far too busy with my sticker book an my pogs to notice).

Which (finally) brings me to my point: Somewhere along the way from the apathetic and cynical children of the 90′s we became the celebrity starved, robots of the 2000′s. “Generation Y” became “millennials”. Kurt Cobain became Britney Spears. Kato Kalin became Paris Hilton. Pearl Jam became Nickelback. In short, we went from Seinfeld to American Idol in the span of less than ten years, and I suspect I’m not the only one who feels that we’ve lost something very important in the changing of the guard. And to me, blogging (as well as “emo”, “The Hills”, narcissism and gleeful ignorance) is a major culprit.

Our grandparents generation has been called the “the Greatest Generation”. They sacrificed themselves during World Wars and Great Depressions for the good of the nation and their children. Our parents grew up during one of the most bountiful and opportune times in American history. At their brightest moments they broke down the barriers of sexism and racism, overturned an unjust war in Vietnam and were on their way to earning equal rights for gays and poor minorities. But somewhere along the line their promise not “sell out” gave way to “buying in”. Buying in to the world we live in today. A world where nearly half of all children are products of divorce and even more come from broken homes. Where righteous dissent was a badge of honor for our parents, a baby boomer-centric world silences youthful dissent hypocritically and without humor. Worst of all, most Generation X and Y’ers aren’t even aware of the shift that this country underwent in the time between their parents left college and passed the (deflated) ball to them. The sad truth is, we don’t even know what we’ve been screwed out of, and yet more and more people my age are beginning to sense this and are responding with dangerous apathy.

To me, blogging is simply a consolation prize. Something to keep those with views and opinions happy, all while keeping them as far away from the position of influence as possible. As far as I’m concerned bloggers fall into two groups: The self-absorbed masses who see it as the chance for unwarranted celebrity and attention from like mided-peers, and then the illuminated few who see it as what it very well may be: The last gasp of “true” free speech.

So know first and foremost that this blog isn’t going to be about celebrity gossip and I won’t mention The Hills unless one of them (preferably the brunette one) gets in their Mercedes and personally drives to Philly to blow me. And even then, I will be posting pictures to document the occasion.

So, without further ado, I give to you the beginning, possibly the end, of ‘The Opinionated Prick’..

Give me money.