2012 Yearly Wrap

 The Film Directors issue, including John Huston, Scott # 4671

The Pixar issue, including Finding Nemo, Scott # 4679.  Aquarium stamp is # 2866.

Jose Ferrer, Scott # 4666, here with Humphrey Bogart, Scott # 3152

 Choreographers issue, including Bob Fosse, Scott # 4701

Edgar Rice Burroughs, Scott # 4702

Earthscapes issue, including Highway Interchange, Scott # 4710o

Baseball All-Stars issue, including Joe Dimaggio, Scott # 4697, here with Marilyn Monroe, # 2967

My Oscar Ballot

Picture: Amour

Actor: Joaquin Phoenix, The Master

Actress: Naomi Watts, The Impossible

Supporting Actor: Robert De Niro, Silver Linings Playbook

Supporting Actress: Amy Adams, The Master

Director: Michael Haneke, Amour

Original Screenplay: Moonrise Kingdom

Adapted Screenplay: Lincoln

Cinematography: Skyfall

Art Direction: Life of Pi

Editing: Life of Pi

Costume Design: Mirror Mirror

Score: Life of Pi

Song: “Skyfall”, Skyfall

Sound Mixing: Life of Pi

Sound Editing: Life of Pi

Visual Effects: Life of Pi

Make-Up: Hitchcock

Foreign Language Film: Amour

Documentary Feature: Searching for Sugar Man

Documentary Short: Inocente

Animated Feature: Frankenweenie

Animated Short: Head Over Heels
Live Action Short: Asad

Dr. No Thanks

I really, really wish I liked James Bond movies.  With each one, I go in with high hopes and disbelief gladly suspended.  And each time, I usually come out with something to latch onto that I can say I liked or enjoyed.  But time and time again, a larger disappointment looms because they just come across as a little…desperate.  Too eager to please, to impress, to titillate (chastely), to push the envelope but never really get out of our comfort zones.

They certainly show up on TV enough that I give them a second chance, but quickly get bored or frustrated by the effort.  Maybe because long before Bond and Bond, I knew Roger Moore and Pierce Brosnan as The Saint and Remington Steele—the former still self-amused but less long in the tooth, the latter a suave and charming movie addict surrounded by mystery and not epic stupidity.  And as great as he is, most of the Connery films have fared quite badly over the years; even “classics” like Goldfinger only serve to remind you that more often than not, his Bond was actually a pretty incompetent spy.

And now we have Skyfall.  The raves were inescapable, and Daniel Craig was a more rough-and-tumble incarnation, which I preferred (I consumed the Ian Fleming novels in my youth), so I had my hopes up.  Certainly, Casino Royale was above average and had some terrific setpieces, but still took too long to get to the point.  Quantum of Solace made little sense from start to end.  And while there’s a lot to like in Skyfall—its believable stuntwork, its sense of franchise continuity, its earnestness in burrowing into Bond’s psyche—for me, like most Bonds, the whole is less than the sum of its parts.

There’s only one Bond film I really, really like: From Russia with Love (Young, 1963).  Maybe it’s because its villains are scary without being cartoonish (by comparison, Javier Bardem’s baddie practically plagiarizes Batman’s Joker’s rictus grin).  Maybe it’s because the stakes (a Cold War decoding machine) are proportionate to the proceedings; once world domination because the redundant goal in these films, everything had to be bigger, but rarely better.  In Russia, there are no crazy gadgets, and some Turkish flavor but little gratuitous globe-hopping.  Plus, there is a genuinely gorgeous woman (Daniela Bianchi) who doesn’t strain credulity by doubling as a brilliant scientist and sexual pushover.  The film as a whole is lean, gritty, exciting, but never overplays its hand.

For someone allegedly good at cards, Bond usually overplays his hand.  And Skyfall almost does, too. For as ably executed and well-cast as it is, there is only one thing genuinely special about it, but it’s a doozy.  Roger Deakins is the cinematographer this time and his contribution is nothing short of miraculous—perhaps the best below-the-line asset any Bond film has had since John Barry’s Russia score and Shirley Bassey’s brassy pipes (though Adele holds her own here, too).

The Bond films have always indulged in location photography, but it always played as mere travelogue porn (including my own Bay Area home here in San Francisco), settling for getting landmarks in frame and exploiting local “exoticism”.  But Deakins captures the exquisite details of lights, reflections, colors, and compositions.  Bond has always been about sex (literally or metaphorically), but this film brings something new to the series—visual sensuality.  It is glorious to gaze upon and elevates the film to something far more promising.  That the content (from story motivation to final resolution) doesn’t quite deliver the goods isn’t Deakins’s fault.  His work is masterful, and makes this Bond one that stands out.  

After wonderfully reliable work for Scorsese, Sayles, Mendes, and the Coens (among others), there’s something perversely irresistible at the thought he might win a long overdue Oscar for a Bond film.  But I hope he does.  For truly, nobody does it better.

The Chinese Year of the Tiger stamp is Scott #3895c.

New Year's Eve on Naboo

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Although I’ve had some memorable New Year’s Eves in my life (seeing Jason Marsalis perform in New Orleans, “burning the old man” traditions in my homeland of Ecuador), I’d have to say my favorite was six years ago, when my boss--George Lucas--was named the Grand Marshal of the Rose Parade and a handful of Lucasfilm employees were conscripted to help decorate the two floats that the company was sponsoring.  I didn’t know anything about the specific designs that had been created, but watching the parade was an annual ritual in my home growing up and I even spent the night in a lawn chair on Colorado Blvd in Pasadena once to see the parade in person the next day.  That was in high school with some of my friends and whatever limited basketball skills I have can be attributed to spending hours trying to throw marshmallows into the open sunroofs of passing limousines that night.

So we showed up bright and early on 12/31/06 to a large hangar that had four floats in it—two of ours and the two floats of the college teams playing in the Rose Bowl that day (Michigan and USC).  Our shift was the second-to-last, which meant that all the final mounting of foliage & greenery, herb gluing, veggie application, and other texturing and ornamentation would take place.  The shift after ours (the final, late night/early morning shift) only had one job: applying all the actual flowers. 

The work crews were a motley mix of my colleagues, elderly alumni from those rival universities, and volunteers from some of the local SoCal high schools.  Our floats were of two Star Wars environments: the Endor forest moon and the Queen's palace on Naboo, essentially bookending the saga with locations from Episodes 1 & 6.  Endor was mostly finished but there was still lots of detailing to be done on Amidala’s royal grounds, particularly on the towers which loomed above us, requiring a scaffold two-and-a-half stories high to reach them.

Since I’m not really afraid of heights, I clambered up this steel and wood frame and spent the next few hours adhering one bean after another (both red and white) into elaborate pre-stenciled patterns at the top of these towers.  Then later, pinning branches and ivy to the walls.  Or using seeds on the coats of some exotic Ewok pack-animals.  Or finally patching up any bald spots with additional spices. In the meantime, my (now ex-)wife had coordinated all the volunteers into efficient assembly lines, because in addition to all these last-minute touch-ups on the floats, our shift had to stage all the flowers that the final crew would be installing.

This meant prepping thousands of these tiny conical vials, each with enough water for a single stem, which you’d then place a flower in.  The flowers came bundled in huge floral boxes and so putting them in these vials quickly was critical so they didn’t start to wilt or fade before the final crew was ready to put them on the floats themselves.  It was a pretty phenomenal enterprise, and because I was high above the ground, I had an eagles-eye view of the whole proceedings.  It boggled the mind to think how many other hangers and workers and flowers were being strategically employed at the exact same time.  But It was also honestly some of the most fun I’d ever had. 

After our 8-hour shift was over, I picked up my Mom from the airport since we were all going to have bleacher seats to watch the parade the next morning.  Not quite as much fun as my lawn chair, but still a good view—though because we had to get up so early to get to our reserved parking and seats, my favorite New Year’s Eve didn’t even include staying up until midnight.  And then after the parade was over, we went to where the floats were publicly parked to get up close and look at the craftsmanship of all the remarkable creations.  Because the floats remain stationary, any animated elements or moving parts are static, but it’s still a wonderful way to look at the floats and their intricate details and creative use of fruit or flowers without dealing with the crowds on the street.  Check it out if you’re ever in the area on January 1.

Here's a picture of the Naboo float that year.  All the USPS stamps are from the Star Wars issue from 2007: Queen Amidala (Scott #4143h), stormtroopers (#4143o), the Emperor (#4143c) and X-wing fighter (#4143m).  The Yoda stamps were from a separate Yoda issue that occurred the same year—the winner of a fan poll.  That’s Scott #4205. The St. Vincent and the Grenadines stamp was part of an officially sanctioned Star Wars foreign release from 1996.  

Overkill

Now here’s an example of the bad postmark being 100% my fault.  You may remember the Toy Story card I had discussed earlier.  I really loved this assembly, since the Gene Autry stamp and the earlier science fiction stamp matched Woody and Buzz Lightyear perfectly.

I was incredibly surprised when the USPS issued two sets of Pixar stamps, though.  And when the first set came out with a set of 5 that included Buzz but not Woody, I knew Woody would be in the subsequent year’s issue.  So, now was an opportunity to get both on the face of the postcard, too!

Big Mistake.  As you can see, what was previously a wonderful looking postcard now is now an ugly, cluttered mess.  Part of the reason is the trend of the USPS of having their illustrated postmarks be much wider and denser with the ink.  

But the larger failing was mine.  The card would’ve been much better with the two separate Pixar cancellations on the back of the card, but the thought of having them both on the front was too irresistible, and what resulted in the long run is a big old garbled mess.  You can still make the images out, but the impact of the first combo of stamps is now mostly lost.

Here’s an example of one issue that I did right.

When the Quilts of Gee’s Bend issue came out, this stamp worked uncannily well.  Using it was a no-brainer.  So when Sinatra came out two years later, where should I put it?  Logic dictated the front but I couldn’t think of anywhere it could go without losing the effect from the previous stamp.  So I did this instead:

Putting the Sinatra stamp on the back meant I could add the drug abuse stamp without it cluttering things up further (Otto Preminger’s 1955 film was one of the first major Hollywood productions to deal with the subject).  Later, when the Jazz stamp came out, I added it to the reverse, too.  
 
I’ve made other similar judgment calls on both sides, but while I’m glad I have a scan of what it looked like before, the Toy Story example is the one I still regret the most.  

Buzz and Woody are Scott #s  4555 and 4680 respectively.  Sinatra is Scott # 4265, the Prevent Drug Abuse stamp is # 1428, and the Jazz stamp # 4503.

Premium Rush

Amidst all the big comic book adaptations and massive action tentpole films this last summer, the most exciting time I had in the theater was with a lean, modest movie about bike couriers called Premium Rush.

Confession: I don’t know how to ride a bike.  This surprises a lot of people, since learning to do so seems a ubiquitous part of growing up.  I guess I don’t have much of an explanation for it, except that there didn’t seem much point to when I was little.  I didn’t have any friends who lived near me.  In the suburban wasteland of San Diego, there was nowhere I wanted to go.  That I was nonathletic, physically uncoordinated didn’t help either.  I’m not sure how my younger sister learned, because the only advice my dad ever gave was “Don’t do that.”  But she wanted a paper route.  She was motivated, and I really didn’t care.

Then, as you get older, it becomes more embarrassing not knowing.  And more reasons come up to never learn.  I knew how to drive.  I moved to an urban center, where bicyclists appeared to take their lives into their own hands every day (when they weren’t having their bikes stolen).  I loved going for walks that went miles and miles.  Of course, as soon as someone would find out, they’d immediately offer to teach me, but that was usually just as quickly forgotten.  And the occasions to ride were so infrequent, it never really came up as an adult.  The one time I visited Amsterdam, the ideal place to make up for lost time, it was the middle of winter and completely iced over, so not even the most seasoned bicyclists were on the road.

So bike riding has an exotic allure for me that allows even simple movie scenes to have amazing power because of that visceral elusiveness.  The playfulness of Butch and Sundance.  The charming community of the Muppets on an outing together.  Or the excitement of Joseph Gordon-Levitt negotiating traffic, weaving around pedestrians, out-pedaling the bad guys with some McGuffin in his messenger bag.  Genuinely thrilling stuff.

This past summer was also the 30^th anniversary of E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (Spielberg, 1982).  I remember the movie vividly growing up, because I was Elliott’s age, socially awkward and stuck in my own California suburban malaise.  I was enchanted by the film back then, even though I loved all kinds of movies and was the only kid I knew who already was familiar with The Quiet Man (the film ET watches when he and Elliott share their intoxicated, psychic connection).

So when it popped up on TV recently, I watched for a bit (it had been ages since I’d last seen it).  And while it may not have the epic scope or depth of feeling that Close Encounters does (to my mind, still Spielberg’s one masterpiece), I thought it still held up pretty well.  Until the famous bike chase.  As soon as Elliott, his brother and friends start barreling through backyards, evading the feds on their two-wheelers to John Williams’ propulsive music, I was completely enraptured, every nerve tingling.

For a kid at that age and that time, bikes were empowering.  Liberating.  Emotions I never really understood or experienced until I was much older, my suffocating adolescence behind me.  So this was my favorite part of the movie, maybe one of my favorite sequences in any 80s movie.  

Because it represented for me something both energizing and absent growing up.  It doesn't last long, but it's marvelous to watch.  And as soon as ET uses his alien mojo to send the bikes flying into the air, I changed the channel.  Because what made the movie special to me was over.

They say it’s never too late.  And I suppose that’s true.  But I have no bike, no helmet, no one to teach me, no easy means of learning, and no one to ride with.  The time and cost are real investments now.  And any recreational biking would still involve a lot of driving to get to where I can do so safely, which itself seems its own sort of vanity.  But that’s OK.  Not all bucket list items are meant to be checked off.  And I still have the movies, where even the most pedestrian fantasies can be brought to life.

E.T. was honored with a stamp in the Celebrate the Century 80s issue (Scott # 3190m) and specifically in the Special Effects stamp of the American Filmmaking series (Scott # 3772i).  A highlight of the film is the liberation of the frogs in the science class, and the Wonders of America series kindly obliged me a stamp (Scott # 4055), as did the residential subdivision in the Earthscapes issue (Scott # 4710k).  The E.T. stamp from the Republic of Tatarstan was issued in 2001.

That's a Wrap!

Well, my first Mill Valley Film Festival in the Programming Department is a wrap and what a terrific experience it was.  But I think we could all use a break so, because it's the 25th anniversary of their biggest hit making the Billboard charts (at #29) back in October 1987, here's a video of The Other Ones singing Holiday: 

Though not as famous as the Madonna hit with the same title from 4 years earlier, I've always loved this song, perhaps because it taps into my love of travel, though that's rooted less in escape than in joyful exploration and curiosity. In high school, when this song made the MTV rounds, I hadn't been many places yet but my wanderlust and urge to get out of suburban San Diego was undeniable.  "Distant lands are not so far away.  I don't know why we don't go."  The promise of a larger world held such romantic (in both meanings of the word) sweep, and by my senior year, I was incredibly impatient to get, well, anywhere.

As for the video itself, it's notable because it uses a lot of postcards as its visual theme, including one of the Golden Gate Bridge, which I cross weekly (since my office is in Marin and I often do something in The City after work).  You'll also note that some of the stamps used on the postcards are real: Scott #C101-103, part of the 1984 US Summer Olympics airmail release.  You can catch brief glimpses of them at time codes 0:32, 2:39 & 3:25.  Here's a better look at them below.