The Rake Magazine

Category: Article

  • As The World Burns

    The Dark Knight is an impossibly good crime drama, populated with memorable characters and constructed with textured ideas about morality and justice and society’s ability to effectively mete it out against the world’s evils. It is an instant classic for comic book fans and is one of the most intensely entertaining films in years.

    Those still inclined to discount comics or graphic novels as sources of artful, legitimate or even enlightened sources of storytelling will find director Christopher Nolan’s sequel to his Batman Begins (2005) overly serious and enamored of itself, but that film satisfyingly channeled some of the finest mature interpretations of the character (Batman: Year One by Frank Miller and David Mazzucchelli and Batman: The Long Halloween by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale) and we are 22 years removed from the seminal publication of The Dark Knight Returns (also by Frank Miller), which helped usher in wider acceptance of adult-oriented storytelling with traditional superheroes and within the medium. Nolan’s confident grasp of this now long established sensibility is one of The Dark Knight‘s many strengths.

    The end of Batman Begins ominously foreshadows the events depicted here with Batman and (freshly appointed as Lieutenant) Jim Gordon discussing how Batman’s actions will embolden criminal escalation. Gordon tells Batman, "We start carrying semi-automatics, they buy automatics." "We start wearing Kevlar, they buy armor piercing rounds." "You’re wearing a mask…jumping off rooftops…" To illustrate the point, Gordon hands Batman evidence from a recent crime scene, a joker from a deck of cards, and voices concern about criminal intent to match or overcome Batman’s theatricality. In The Dark Knight Nolan and Heath Ledger (as The Joker) conspire to fulfill and obliterate the boundaries of Gordon’s fears.

    Crass and self-serving James Lipton impersonations in the celebrity gossip press notwithstanding; it is not hyperbole to call Ledger’s performance as The Joker indelible. Obliquely posited as a terrorist, Ledger’s Joker unleashes waves of mayhem that the film’s heroes struggle mightily to cope with and in an unnerving scene where Batman interrogates The Joker, Ledger balefully demonstrates the impotence of force against his specific brand of evil. It is one of many scenes where The Joker’s unhinged but calculating state of mind is palpable. Nolan and Ledger also cleverly play with notions of The Joker’s origins, reinforcing an idea of the character as an absolute that Batman will always have to contend with.

    Aaron Eckhart joins the cast as crusading D.A. Harvey Dent and is given a dramatic arc that parallels Christian Bale’s Bruce Wayne/Batman. The nature of The Joker’s rampage forces both men to test the limits of their convictions and their competing affections for Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal replaces Batman Begins‘ Katie Holmes in this role) in a dramatic subplot that irrevocably changes each of them. Michael Caine (Alfred), Gary Oldman (Commissioner Gordon) and Morgan Freeman (Lucius Fox) all reprise their roles and each brings his signature, understated style with him.

    The quality of the cast is exceeded only by Nolan’s assured guidance of all his film’s moving parts. Weaker genre films are often drenched in selfish art direction, but Nolan favors a subtler approach that builds on the style established in the first film and he composes action and violence firmly grounded in reality. Audiences overdosed on poorly implemented computer graphics fakery will find The Dark Knight a jolting tonic.

    The Dark Knight was previewed at an IMAX theatre and discerning viewers will not regret any extra effort spent in finding one of these screens near them to see the movie. Nolan is the first director to utilize the large format cameras in a traditional Hollywood production and the sublime effectiveness of select sequences virtually guarantees that more films (and someday entire productions) will be made in this way. Limitations the large and heavy IMAX cameras might have imposed on Nolan and his crew appear to have been shrugged off and the big format scenes are exponentially immersive and dynamic. Even non-IMAX portions of the film (the movie gently moves back and forth between aspect ratios – not as jarring as it sounds) had an image clarity I found startling, relative to recent experiences in traditional theatres.

    As The Dark Knight hurtles toward its conclusion, fans will feel the movie assuming a rightful and near canonical place in their personal pop entertainment hierarchies and nonpartisans will appreciate Nolan’s deft marriage of drama and spectacle as one of the best of its kind.

    **Subscribe now to receive The Rake’s e-mail newsletters and benefit from frequent giveaways…like tickets to the IMAX screening of The Dark Night.**

  • In the Woods

    It’s often said that you can’t go back, but sometimes it would be wise at least to try. A murder detective with a forgotten past is at the center of Tana French’s tense debut novel In the Woods – a man whose lost memories collide with the present in what should have been an open-and-close case.

    In 1984, three children disappeared in the woods next to their Dublin neighborhood. Only one boy is found, clinging to a tree in terror with blood-soaked shoes and no memory of what has happened. Twenty years later, the boy has grown into Detective Rob Ryan. He and his partner Cassie Maddox are sent to the very same woods to investigate and murder of twelve-year-old Katy Devlin, a local ballet prodigy. As the two detectives begin to interview potential suspects – including a father, mother and sisters who clearly aren’t telling all they know – they see connections between the two cases and wonder if solving one murder will solve the other.

    Told in terse, unforgiving first-person through Ryan’s eyes, the 429-page volume certainly takes its time to develop. For a great deal of the novel, little progress is made in finding Katy’s killer. But French wisely sidesteps banality by focusing the book on the inner workings of her detectives – detectives with more personality and pathos than the average sleuth. Ryan is hardened by his experiences, but not because of the horrible things he’s seen. He is dark and he is a loner because of the horrible things he’s forgotten; he professes to Cassie that his life began at twelve. As he delves further into Katy’s case, flashes from his previous life strike him. But those final moments continue to elude him.

    Ryan’s partner Cassie is as equally intriguing. French understandably doesn’t spend as much time explaining her psyche; the story is, after all, told from Ryan’s point of view and one gets the feeling Cassie wouldn’t be the type of person to blab about her feelings anyway. But French constructs a relationship between the two that is closer than close while eschewing any overly-predictable feelings of lust or unrequited love. The book’s main strength lies in the complexity of their need for each other. As Ryan spirals into a dangerous haze – trying to solve the case while hiding his connection to his own – Cassie’s importance becomes all too real. And even through we see the events through Ryan’s admittedly biased and unsure eyes, there is no question as to who is really there to help him.

    Avid crime readers will be pleased, as well. The murder investigation moves along with just enough twists and turns to keep readers on their toes without becoming ridiculous. When Ryan and Cassie begin investigating both crimes at once, the story becomes a bit muddled; fitting for Ryan’s frame of mind, but a bit frustrating for those who prefer a more straightforward story. Not that the storytelling isn’t unintentionally jumbled; aside from a few eye-rolling metaphors and stark images that seem like requirements in novels these days (people "moving back and forth among the trees as silently and intently as ghosts," etc.), French has a to-the-point, honest voice. The moments she tries to find poetry out of her situations are fleeting and far between. She’s interested in telling the story as plainly as possible.

    Not to mention truthfully. The world French has created is not something out of Law and Order or Agatha Christie. Ryan and Cassie are solving a gruesome murder that has devastating effects on them and the people around them. The sobering finale is a testament to the "there are no real happy endings" view of life, especially when murder is involved. In an ideal world, the characters would deserve more. But Ryan doesn’t want to make himself into a hero. If nothing else, the story is a burden that he must tell in order to find peace.

    With In the Woods, French introduces her knack for characters that will thrill readers of many types. Artfully balancing a gripping mystery with an honest and dynamic study of two flawed people, French easily maps out two stories without losing any of the tension or suspense she has built up. As the case boils down and Ryan sinks further into obsession with the Devlin murder and the disappearance of his friends, the question becomes not, Will the killer be caught, but Will Ryan survive? In making the detective himself as compelling as his case, French has crafted a unique debut showing truly a step apart from any average murder mystery.

  • I Freak Danced a Stormtrooper

    If you happened to read my last article, you’ve probably already pigeonholed me as a sci-fi geek. While that much is true, I’m also an art, music, and Photoshop geek, among other things. I use the term loosely because in my mind a "geek" is someone who obsesses on any given topic with unabashed over-interest to the point of social questionability. I personally find this endearing. At any rate, last weekend, my understanding of the word "geek" took on a whole new depth.

    This recent foray into the realm of Science Fiction found me at the Bloomington Sheraton for the 2008 ConVergence Convention, an annual extravaganza that welcomes anything and everything sci-fi related. For anyone that’s been to a Minicon, Comicon, or any other "con," you probably know that these events can range from the nonsensical to the extremely nerdy, and yes, the outrageously debaucherous. And for those of you who are unfamiliar, let me break it down: Imagine a thousand social misfits being throw together into a no-holds-barred free for all for three days straight. During the day there are civilized interactions such as lectures, screenings, book signings, discussion groups, and swap meets, but once the sun goes down, room parties will rage into the wee hours, and rage they did.

    I arrived around 8pm on the second day of the convention, armed with a notebook, a shameless photographer, a Serbian fashionista, a Japanese computer nerd – and two bottles of vodka. Walking up to the main entrance of the Sheraton, telltale signs began to appear: a trio of Ghostbusters in full regalia; a gang of pimply gothed-out teenagers sipping lemonade on an outdoor patio; and an old man in a black robe with a wooden staff striding purposefully through the parking lot. We had arrived. Upon going through a 20 minute ordeal to score our convention badges, we were eventually set loose to roam.

    The first and second floors of the hotel were officially designated Party Floors. Each of maybe fifty rooms were rented out by convention-goers for the sole purpose of partying. Decked out in various themes, room topics ranged from Star Trek to Role Playing Games, to science fiction related TV shows and movies, to the totally undefined, but highly nerdy. The convention itself had also rented out certain sections of the hotel removed from the lecture and banquet rooms that housed the actually legitimate convention activities. Our first stop was the Space Lounge, an official attraction of ConVergence featuring a huge room lit only by blacklights – a neon mini-golf course; an entire wall devoted to glow-in-the-dark painting; a chill-out (or possibly make-out) dome festooned with beanbags, pillows, and rope lights; a stage where circuit bending art-noise performers buzzed and glitch-rocked for the crowd; plus a full-on fruit smoothie bar manned by some goth kids. We grabbed a few strawberry smoothies, which quickly turned into vodka smoothies and set off for the party rooms.

    Overwhelmed by the endless array of possibilities, we decided to start on the first floor, work our way around, hit the second floor, then repeat as necessary. One of our first stops was the Xena Room. As a big fan (yes, I’ll admit it) of the show, I eagerly popped in, only to have an awkward conversation with another Xenaphile while watching a fuzzy VHS recording of the show on the television and pecking at the popcorn which was set out for guests. The cute lesbian (of course) couple who were in charge of the room didn’t hesitate to chatter about their love for the Warrior Princess and happily showed off their collection of Xena memorabilia which included weaponry and bobbleheads.

    Other rooms included two interconnected Star Trek decks that were cleared of any hotel-esque trappings, and featured a floor to ceiling recreation of a star deck, complete with faux beaming platforms, a full crew of star fleet officers, and a bar that served either "green" or "red" alcoholic beverages, which we immediately took advantage of. A stop in the Willie Wonka room proved fruitful with sugary test-tube shots handed out by encouraging nerds, and enough candy to put even the healthiest of humans into a diabetic coma. Another highlight was the Toast Room, lined top to bottom with mylar and illuminated with red rope lights, where the hosts served up slice after slice of toast, topped with any number of delicious (and not so delicious) toppings such as corn, bamboo shoots, brushetta, fruit, and nearly twenty more options.

    We kept trucking along, stopping briefly to watch a full-on light saber battle which had randomly taken over a cordoned-off patio near the pool. Darth Maul, in full costume, moved stealthily around his opponent while hordes of costumed spectators snapped pictures and cheered. We eventually made our way to floor two, which featured packed hallways with room-occupants hooting and hollering for people to enter their chambers. Cute girls in plaid skirts and low cut white blouses with head sets beckoned with promises of free cupcakes. A man wearing a sandwich board and ringing a bell advertised a party where free condoms and temporary tattoos were being dished out. Despite the general oddity of the whole situation, I found the most unusual experience to be the food served: ham sandwiches on wheat bread; tiered cakes that seemed to have a woodland fantasy theme; vodka soaked maraschino cherries that the server explained had been soaking since the previous year’s convention; and of course, the aforementioned at the Toast and Willy Wonka rooms.

    The whole while, I continued to spike readily available non-alcoholic (and alcoholic) beverages with my handy bottle of Stoli tucked undisguised in my purse. The tipsier I got, the more entertaining the parties and the people became. I shucked off my typical awkward shyness to make eyes at guys in cloaks and to yell at Klingons. I repeatedly returned to the Egyptian Room, where the heat was cloying, but where keg cups full of merlot were readily available. I lost my friends, found them, and lost them again numerous times, all the while picking up strays and making new drunken pals along the way.

    As the night wore on, the general party seemed to be moving towards a large performance hall on the second floor, which featured a DJ playing a danceworthy mix of 80s hits for a throng of some 200 weirdos. By this time I was severely hammered, my bottle of vodka not nearly as full as it had once been, and I was pretty much free of my normal inhibitions. My Japanese computer nerd friend (who is also a breakdancer, go figure) yanked me onto the dancefloor, and I let him. I should tell you now, that when (and if) I get drunk enough to dance, it’s usually an all-out spectacle, and this was no exception. After doing some comical dance routine-esque moves with my friend, I somehow morphed into the arms of gyrating alien with a paper-mache mask that had long stalks protruding from the head. At some point, I swapped him out for a Stormtrooper, who, in head to toe costume, still managed to bust a move – and feel me up. Eventually I stumbled outside, fell in a bush, and got carted home by my friends around 6am. All in all, a grand experience.

    While I hate to write an article soley about the party aspect of the convention (which definitely has a reputation for being an amazing resource
    for Science Fiction afficianados, and has a mile long list of highly respected artists and speakers attached to it), I can’t help but say that ConVergence was the best party I’ve been to all year. I’m counting the days until the next one, which I hopefully won’t be banned from for writing this article.

    For more information on ConVergence Con, which already is updating it’s site in preparation for next year’s festivities, go to www.convergence-con.org

    To see tons more photos from the Convention by Stephen Stephens of Digital Crush Photography, click HERE

  • Devil in the Details

    Even longtime comic book/graphic novel devotees might admit to some fatigue with the apparent overkill of Hollywood translations at the multiplex, but the prodigious visual imagination, droll humor and sincere themes entertainingly weaved together by Guillermo Del Toro in Hellboy II: The Golden Army distinguish it among its peers.

    Hellboy seems an unpredictable choice for big budget Hollywood treatment amid lurching efforts to get higher profile and much longer established comic book characters to screen faithfully. Artist/writer Mike Mignola introduced the character (a noirish, blue collar paranormal investigator from hell) in 1994 during a flurry of creator owned character debuts following high profile defections of writers and artists from the stables of Marvel and DC Comics. Mignola’s writing and distinctive art, steeped in expressionism, gothic and Lovecraftian imagery with flourishes of whimsy, helped Hellboy stand out as a relative success, but its near underground origins make its two high profile and very faithful translations to film remarkable and indelibly linked to Del Toro’s ascension in Hollywood.

    As the director’s follow up to his Spanish language Pan’s Labyrinth (one of the very best films of recent years regardless of genre), Hellboy II borrows a few themes and visual motifs from that film and overall is less deferential to Mignola’s designs than in the first Hellboy movie. As a result, Del Toro’s deep imagination appears unleashed in a dizzying variety of characters and settings, embellished by a sumptuous color pallet that is by turns organic, otherworldly and lyrical. Hellboy’s principal nemesis, Prince Nuada (portrayed by Luke Goss), strikes an arresting visual presence in particular and their confrontations are cleverly staged and energetic.

    The movie’s accessibility to non-genre enthusiasts resides in its sense of humor, the care Del Toro takes to humanize his characters, and the story’s basic appeal to everyone’s sense of imagination. He never betrays the world or themes he has constructed for a cheap joke, but still manages to let the audience have fun with the absurdity of it all and through the main character’s world weary, lunch pail approach to problem solving.

    Del Toro will segue from Hellboy II to directing highly anticipated prequels for The Lord of the Rings (The Hobbit and a second film bridging to the existing films) with trilogy director Peter Jackson producing. Fans of those films seeking reassurance the story is in the right hands will find plenty to like in Hellboy II and in the rest of Del Toro’s filmography.

  • Gonzo

    To be honest, I didn’t know who Hunter S. Thompson was until after he killed himself. It was a miserable year in college. Bush had slithered his way into the White House for the second time and winter at Carleton seemed even more bitter than usual. Our anger had given way to numb depression as we shuffled about our lives. Not that I was alive then, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had lost something over the past 40 years. In the ’60s and ’70s, Hunter S. Thompson embodied the kind of restless anger the country needed during the Bush years. What happened? Along with our parents, somehow we became the generation of complacency. You can understand my surprise when my very same criticism was leveled at the audience not by Thompson, but by Pat Buchanan. Wait a second! Pat Buchanan is in a documentary about Hunter S. Thompson? Gonzo, a documentary by Alex Gibney, is full of surprises. If you are a fan, or even if you’re not, this one is not to be missed.

    Far from the star-struck mythology that often follows other famous suicides (see: Kurt Cobain), I was pleased you actually get a sense of who Thompson was, and it wasn’t always flattering. The truth is, Thompson was kind of a douche. Through a mixture of interviews, stock footage, film clips, and reenactments, the film is a surprisingly earnest and deeply fascinating celebration of his life. In roughly chronological order the film proceeds through the events that shaped America, and Thompson along with it. It can be hard to lose yourself in a documentary the same way as a good film, but the seamless mash-up of material and tight pacing makes it easy.

    Like Buchanan, the film features a number of high profile interviews ranging from Jimmy Carter to George McGovern to the co-founder and publisher of Rolling Stone. I was struck by not only the extraordinary effort on the part of the filmmaker, but also the exceptional influence he must have had to bring together such an unusual cross-section of American culture 30-40 years after landmarks such as Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail.


    Even though the film sort of putters out towards the end, and could have trimmed some things down here and there, it is well worth your time. I think its greatest contribution is, without question, its immediacy. In the stock footage of RFK, you can hear Obama’s voice. In Nixon, you can feel the repugnant sleaze of the Bush years. In Thompson, however, was a voice we now need more than ever.

    Want a good example of modern gonzo? Check out the Rolling Stone coverage of the Michael Jackson trial. It was angry, subjective, judgmental, and struck me as one of the most honest things I had ever read.

    See also Max Ross’ The world is full of downers…which is maybe why Gonzo took so many uppers.

  • Sometimes All the Time

    Jonah’s
    throat was sore, lately. It hadn’t bothered him in the last couple
    days, but Jonah still waited for the pain to resurface, so that whenever
    he swallowed it would feel like swallowing sand, like it had for the
    past month or so. This waiting made him impatient, but the painkillers
    he took somewhat tempered his anxiety. Right now he had a eucalyptus
    lozenge in his mouth, and he bit down on it – not all the way through,
    just so his molars sunk in halfway.

    There
    were eleven tables, and he placed the salt-and-pepper shakers and the
    miniature Tabasco bottles from each on his cocktail tray. Becky followed
    behind him, blowing out the tea lights (too hard: wax fanned out against
    the sides of the candleholders) and wiping the tables with a bleach-soaked
    rag. In the office – a desk and laptop behind a velveteen curtain
    – their manager settled the credit cards and listened to vintage rock
    radio, the songs muffled and heartfelt through the drape, and Jonah
    and Becky knew that really they were actually alone.

    "I’m
    coming over later, still," Becky said.

    "Yeah
    that’s cool," said Jonah. "If you want." He paused at a four-top
    by the front windows, and looked up and out over Lake Calhoun, trying
    to find one of the half dozen or so constellations he could recognize,
    but it was too cloudy, or maybe the lights from the bars and condominiums
    in Uptown Minneapolis were too bright and distracting, or the Percocets
    he’d taken dampened the stars like they did his feelings (physical,
    emotional, and otherwise), or maybe the stars tonight were dimmer than
    usual, farther away and burning out. He scribbled something on a guest
    check that later, when he tries to re-write it into his astronomy journal,
    he will be unable to read.

    "I
    want," Becky said. She slid into a booth and began to polish silverware.

    She
    had two blond streaks in her hair, interwoven with the black. Nights
    they spent together, Jonah guessed what her original color had been,
    but Becky wouldn’t tell him. Also – and this was maybe more important,
    at least to Jonah – she couldn’t come during sex, or at least not
    with him, or at least not yet; he asked her why she wanted to sleep
    with him so often, why she was so insistent, but she wouldn’t tell
    him that, either.

    "Okay,
    then," Jonah said. "I’ll call you after Jenna’s gone, I guess."

    He
    sat down next to her, making sure the outsides of their legs touched
    under the table, but Becky scooted away.

    Jenna,
    his friend, ex-girlfriend, possibly hopefully girlfriend-soon-to-be,
    was coming tonight to pick up their dog because Jonah worked longer
    hours on weekends. He did not like this arrangement: the time he spent
    away from Rabbit was confusing and remarkably un-linear. Tomorrow, Friday,
    Jonah will wake up the same time as usual, but realizing his dog is
    not there needing to be let out, he will fall back asleep, and in the
    two days after, his sleep will drift later and later into the morning,
    and the events of his day will be without the regular, nearly grammatical
    punctuation of walking Rabbit. Which is why tonight he was thinking
    about trying to convince Jenna to move back in with him.

    "What
    time will that be?" Becky asked. She wiped a pair of wet spoons with
    a black napkin.

    "The
    usual time. I don’t know. I just thought I should tell you, is all."

    "You
    shouldn’t have," Becky said.

    She
    was wearing a pair of his soccer socks – they came up to the middle
    of her thighs, the Puma logo stretched around her kneecaps – and Jonah
    thought it was strange how easily and comfortably she’d been able
    to insinuate herself into his life. That was, actually, the most fascinating
    aspect of their now-month-long relationship: its normalcy. After only
    a couple nights together, symbiotic sleeping positions and synchronized
    wakings had been established. Jonah was impressed with himself for this
    because he considered Becky to be a little too good for him. Not because
    she was too pretty, though maybe also for that reason, but because she
    seemed so sad, and wise in her sadness, (and pretty in her sadness),
    and for him melancholy trumped beauty: it was a sort of barometer for
    how human one was. And Becky couldn’t even say why she was on the
    anti-depressants she was on – she’d tried explaining several times
    and just given up – and this intrigued Jonah and turned him on a little.

    Right
    now, he loved the way she stopped rolling silverware, and brushed crumbs
    from the booth to the floor, hair hanging forward in a way that exposed
    the sparrow she had tattooed below her left ear.

    "What’s
    wrong?" he asked.

    "Nothing."

    "What’s
    nothing?"

    "Nothing’s
    this big void in the universe. Scientists aren’t sure if it actually
    exists or not, but it does. I feel it a lot."

    Jonah
    coughed, and then spit into a beverage napkin – candy lozenge shards,
    mostly – which he folded and put in his apron.

    "Is
    your throat okay?" Becky moved closer to him. "I hope it’s not
    strep. I don’t have the energy to get sick right now."

    "I’m
    fine, I think," he said, taking a pill from his pocket.

    "I
    can get you more, if you want," she said. "It might be generic this
    time, but basically the same. I’ll ask my guy. Then I’ll bring it
    over tonight, if you’ll let me over. Whatever. I’m hot. You’re
    dumb."

    Later,
    after the chairs are all flipped over onto the tables and the lights
    turned out, after the manager unlocks the restaurant doors so they can
    leave, and Jenna come and Jenna gone and Becky and Jonah in bed together,
    the night crew will come to sweep and mop and bleach the floors.

  • Star Wars, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Sci-Fi

    Growing up, my world was a whirlwind of arts, culture, and strangely
    enough, Sci-Fi. My Dad was my hero, a man of constant humor, kindness,
    and creative influence, who also just so happened to be a world-class
    science fiction and fantasy nerd. One of the first movies I can
    remember him taking me to as a child was a matinée of Hercules in New York at the Riverview Theater, starring a pre-Terminator/governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. Shades of Doctor Who, Robbie the Robot, and of course, Star Wars
    followed, defining my childhood, which was also smoothed over with my
    mother’s more cultured influence of books, art, theater, and fashion.
    My Halloween costumes always featured some conglomeration of LED lights
    and internal wiring. I developed a fascination with robots, and
    alternately, an intense horror of aliens and alien abduction early on.
    Even lovable ’80s icon E.T. was on my top ten list of things to be
    terrified of, which of course my Dad thought was hilarious. So much so,
    that he proceeded to buy me E.T.-related memorabilia, which I would
    subsequently break or lose. One item specifically, a metal TV tray with
    E.T.’s hideous face emblazoned on it, was a thing of particular
    disdain. So when I intentionally dented it up beyond usability, instead
    of throwing it out, my dad placed it directly at the bottom of the
    basement stairs, just to fuck with me. Idiotically enough, to this day,
    I still run up the basement stairs, envisioning large-eyed aliens
    camped out in dark corners, ready to pounce. But despite all this, and
    also the forced Danish dancing lessons (another story), I still thought
    my Dad was the coolest — and I still do.

    While I was merely a diaper-clad babe when the original Star Wars movie came out, and still pretty much a deer in the headlights when The Empire Strikes Back was released, I was sentient enough to get the gist by the time Return of the Jedi
    hit screens — the first Star Wars film to introduce the Ewoks. Somehow,
    my deeply infused hatred of all aliens morphed into mild nervousness
    and curiosity in regards to the Ewoks. There was something feral about
    them that rubbed me the wrong way, though. Chewy’s grating bray and
    Yoda’s generally creepiness were disconcerting factors for me as well,
    but somehow less offensive than the scores of other characters and
    imaginary creatures I’d been so taken aback by in the past. My first
    exposure to the epic horror film, E.T., had come the
    previous year, and my reputation for being an irrationally and randomly
    alarmed child had already cemented itself by this point, so I think my
    parents must have been pleasantly surprised when I didn’t need to sleep
    with the lights on for the next three weeks.

    Into my early teen years (basically, before the internet boom hit) I became obsessed with BBSing,
    which, for those of you who only got into computers post-AOL, was an
    early form of online communication that allowed users to dial up via
    phone line and log in to a private server with a very simple,
    text-based program that allowed you to post on message boards, play
    text-games, leave messages for other users, or, say, download the Anarchist’s Cookbook.
    BBS’s were usually run out of someone’s mother’s basement, if you catch
    my drift. The kind of kids who were BBSers were usually total nerds –
    not only computer nerds, but Dungeons and Dragons nerds, sci-fi nerds,
    and in one particular case, a samurai sword-collecting nerd. One kid I
    met, Jeff, was a stereotypical, pretentious, 16-year-old computer geek
    with a long black trench coat and a penchant for blowing things up. As
    an already-been-to-juvie 14-year-old, I, of course, found this
    incredibly charming. One of my clearest memories of him includes us
    being run out of his grandmother’s house for melting a Luke Skywalker
    action figure over a candle in his bedroom. We then walked to the mall,
    watched Doc Hollywood, and made out, which aside from
    the making out part, didn’t seem nearly as cool. At any rate, my
    attraction to angsty, self-important geeks was born. The list of dudes
    I’ve hitched my train to who would give their first born to meet C3PO
    is embarrassingly long.

    These days, I
    still have a soft spot for all things Science Fiction related, and
    usually, if I haven’t had too much wine or fallen asleep with my
    computer on my lap, I read myself to sleep with some sort of paperback
    space odyssey. I am easily coaxed on the bandwagon for a sci-fi series
    like Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Firefly.
    I’ve even held a Star Wars Trilogy brunch. (I’ve also had a House Party
    Trilogy brunch, so don’t be too impressed.) So naturally, when I heard
    the Star Wars exhibit was coming to the Science Museum I was excited to
    cover it. Going to a press preview for something like this, something
    that hundreds of wannabe Jedis have paid $100 each to get the first
    glimpse of later that night, was prrretty damn cool for a girl like me.

    The exhibit itself is a sprawling display filled with Star Wars fan drool-inspiring artifacts. Dozens of protective cases containing actual costumes, models, and mechanics from the Star Wars
    films pepper the space, filled in with interactive displays, such as an
    engineering design lab where show-goers can put together simple
    R2D2-style mini-robots step by step at mobility, programming, and
    sensor stations. Included in the exhibit is an actual hovercraft that
    attendees can try out for themselves – sort of a futuristic version of
    a bumper car. There is an interactive robotics station where you can
    control dangerous looking (and sounding) mechanical legs, along with
    plenty of other computerific games and experiments to try. There’s even
    a large-scale model of a Jawa sandcrawler, where visitors are treated
    to a video hosted by C3PO and real-world robotics Engineer Cynthia
    Breazeal, director of the Robotic Life Group at the MIT Media Lab.

     

    The
    most fun to me, however, was inspecting the costumes. Eight foot tall
    Chewbakka suits with impressive detailing and perfectly coiffed fur
    stand at attention. Scuffed up Darth Vader helmets, gleaming
    light-saber hilts, and assorted futuristic weaponry shine from behind
    plexiglass. My favorite was a somewhat mangy Storm Trooper uniform from
    The Empire Strikes Back that looked like it was made
    out of parts from Ax-Man Surplus and a pair of cut up, dirty,
    inside-out white sweatpants cleverly patched together — so much for big
    budgets! These were no replicas, these were the real deal. To think
    that I was separated merely by a thin sheet of glass from the bonafide
    Yoda puppet actually put a few more stars in my eyes than I expected it
    to.

    Although I did wish I could have
    been around to witness the most definite spectacle that must have been
    the public preview party later that night, I relished the fact that I
    got to lay eyes on it first, just like any proper Star Wars
    nerd would. Not to mention, I got to meet the guy who played C3PO, who,
    by the way, really sounds exactly like C3PO…and actually looks like
    him too, minus all the bling.

    And in case you’re wondering, I am
    single, and currently accepting applications from angsty nerds of all
    varieties. Aliens that have taken over human bodies need not apply.


    The Star Wars exhibit runs through August 24th, 8:30am-11:30pm Daily, Science Museum of MN, 120 W. Kellogg Blvd., St. Paul, $19, Advance tickets recommended and available HERE.

  • Solstice Film Festival — It's a Killer

    Killer Movie, a tongue-in-cheek story of a reality television shoot in a
    northern border town that goes terrifyingly awry, will open the third
    annual Solstice Film Festival (June 19-21) at Galtier Plaza in downtown
    St. Paul. The movie premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival (founded
    by Robert De Niro and Jane Rosenthal) in New York last month, but this
    will be its Minnesota premiere—a fitting start as it was shot almost
    entirely in Minnesota.

    "We’re
    excited to kick off this year’s festival with a hometown theme,"
    said event founder and executive director Devin Halden. The film follows
    a reality film crew as they profile a small town hockey team making
    it to the state finals for the first time ever. The film turns dark,
    in a deliberately campy way, when the crew begins to be stalked one
    by one. The film’s director, Jeff Fisher, calls it "a live action Scooby Doo episode."

    Killer Movie was one of hundreds screened that were narrowed to a selection
    of twenty for this three-day event. Submissions come from filmmakers
    across the country.

    Fisher—whose
    other directing credits include reality television shows The Simple
    Life, Making the Band     and Big Brother, as well as a few
    shorts—said Killer Movie (his first feature movie) is influenced
    by the slasher horror movies of the seventies and eighties that he grew
    up on, like Halloween and Friday the 13th, as
    well as some of Brian DePalma’s earlier works from the ’80s, most
    notably the 1981 John Travolta-led Blow Out (itself a remake of
    Michelango Antonioni’s 1966 film Blowup, with a sound technician
    recording a murder instead of a photographer capturing a murder).

    "Everyone
    always says write what you know. I love horror movies. They always scared
    me as a kid." He was inspired while working on remote locations, and
    wondered what would happen if a killer decided to off a reality TV crew
    one by one.

    According
    to Fisher, the audience for Killer Movie is reality TV fans (especially
    those interested in what happens behind the scenes of these programs)
    and fans of the HBO show Entourage. The movie is supposed to be
    tongue-in-cheek, he said. "It’s designed to give you a few thrills
    and also make you laugh."

    Jackson Bond, a 12-year-old actor of Lino Lakes, has a significant role
    in Killer Movie He appeared in last summer’s The Invasion
    starring Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig. Bond will be in attendance
    for the premiere Thursday, walking the red carpet prior to the screening.

    Bond’s
    favorite part of the shoot was hanging out with the cast and working
    on his character with director Fisher. "He made my role more like
    me, and it was easier for me that way," he said.

    Fisher said of working with Jackson: "He’s a total pro, awesome. The cast and
    crew loved him. I was grateful to have him in the cast."

    Bond
    got the role through auditioning. He said Fisher immediately liked his
    audition. "Coming out of there knowing the director likes you is a
    good feeling." Bond says he loves old horror movies, citing Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, and Friday the 13th.
    He was a big fan of Martin Scorsese’s The Departed, and when
    he was in the theater watching it, he remembered everyone in the audience
    giving his mom dirty looks during some of the more intense scenes.

    Another
    movie screening at the festival (5 p.m. on Thursday) is Patsy,
    a darkly humored psychological farce, as well as a romantic comedy of
    the absurd, as seen through the eyes of Lenny Rose (Brett Golov). Lenny’s
    already delusional world spirals even more wildly out of control when Patsy
    (Christine Lakin) slips into his Palm Beach clothing store, and very
    quickly into his life. Craving more excitement, Lenny is intrigued
    by Patsy’s untraceable past, "little black box" and even being
    pursued by covert agents. They journey with a cast of colorful characters
    through reality to the unimaginable.

    Golov, who also produced the movie, said the movie has hints of One Flew
    Over the Cuckoo’s Nest    , with touches of Eternal Sunshine of
    the Spotless Mind     meets Memento.

    The
    closing film of the festival will be director Jake Rademacher’s directorial
    debut Brothers At War. It’s a very personal documentary about
    his family, mainly his two brothers serving in Iraq, and Jake going
    to see what their lives were like.

    "I
    wanted to do something positive for my brothers, and for all the soldiers
    serving in Iraq," he said. "The film is about my journey into the
    lives of my brothers, and to better understand that I literally go to
    Iraq for several weeks, then along the way the it really becomes about
    brotherhood and about an American family facing the crucible of war,
    rather than about any mission."

    Brothers
    at War     has been screening across the country, receiving a standing
    ovation at the G.I. Film Festival, where it won best feature documentary,
    for its premiere on May 16. He’s very excited for the film’s
    Solstice screening, its third public screening. Rademacher will be in
    attendance.

    Given
    the recent glut of Iraq-themed movies, especially documentaries, of
    late, Rademacher, who cited On The Waterfront and this year’s There Will Be Blood as favorites of his, said his film is different
    in four ways: It focuses on a family and their story; the filmmaker
    actually went to Iraq; he doesn’t impose a political viewpoint in
    to the story but instead lets the story unfold in front of the camera;
    and the soldiers serving in Iraq actually like the film.

    "I
    think soldiers and their families are above politics, so I felt the film
    should be the same," he said.

    Movie
    theaters will be constructed in Galtier Plaza for the festival, bringing
    theater back to Galtier after a 10-year reprieve. "We wanted a facility
    that could house all of the movies in a single location to make it more
    convenient for attendees," said Halden. "You can come watch a show,
    step out for a stroll in Mears Park, grab a bite at one of the great
    restaurants nearby, and enjoy the heart of downtown St. Paul."

    Halden
    created Solstice in 2006 and immediately won accolades for programming
    from such publications as Hollywood Reporter, Variety and Filmmaker
    Magazine    . His vision is twofold: to provide independent filmmakers and
    artists a platform and audience to premier their work; and to produce
    an event that spotlights the Twin Cities, Minnesota, and all that the
    area has to offer to encourage future studio and independent film productions.

    Single
    passes are $10 for opening and closing screenings (Thursday and Saturday
    night) and $5 for any daytime screening. An All Access Pass costs
    $20. It includes:

    • Entry into Opening
      Night Ceremony, Film, and After Party
    • Pass to all films
      selected to screen at the 2008 Solstice Film Festival
    • Admittance to the
      Spotlight Presentation and Film Saturday evening, June 21
    • Entry into the Closing
      Awards Ceremony and Film Presentation on June 21

    For more information on the
    festival and to order passes, visit www.solsticefilmfest.org.

    About Solstice Film Festival

    Solstice Film Festival is a
    non-profit organization committed to bringing the art of filmmaking
    to the Twin Cities. SFF will offer a varied slate of films, special
    events, and educational initiatives at the festival and throughout the
    year, presenting Minnesota with an engaging cultural event for both
    the local population and visitors to the Twin Cities.

    The following
    is an interview I had with Dean Halden, Executive Director of the Solstice
    Film Festival.


    The Rake:     How long has the Solstice Film Festival been going on?
    Whose idea was it? How did it begin? Why Minnesota?

    Dean Halden:
    2008 marks the third year of Solstice Film Festival. The idea to create
    SFF stemmed primarily from my own personal passion for film and my desire
    to help not only independent filmmakers but also the film industry in
    Minnesota as a whole.

    I worked on
    several local films and the biggest hurdle, besides actually completing
    a film on shoestring budgets, was getting the film in front of an audience
    and individuals and companies who could bring the film or their talents
    to the next level. SFF provides a platform and audience for talented
    films and filmmakers to showcase their talents to an audience and those
    influential people and companies. Our organization takes pride in the
    fact that we do not stop at simply screening a film at the festival
    then moving on. Throughout the years, we have developed many great relationships
    with studios, production and distribution companies, as well as private
    individuals who are able to get a film or filmmaker to the next level.
    We facilitate meetings between the two parties and foster relationships
    to help push that process along. Throughout the year, many studios call
    us for screeners from a film that was played at SFF to take a closer
    look at an actor’s performance, the talents of a cinematographer or director,
    or simply the movie as a whole.

    The other main
    reason for creating SFF, and an equally important one, is to produce
    an event that gives studio execs and production and distribution companies
    a reason to travel to Minnesota. Once we have them here for the event,
    we can educate them on our state’s tax incentives, and they are able
    to see first-hand the beautiful and amazing backdrop Minnesota has to
    offer future film productions.

    The Rake:
    What is the mission statement for the festival? What do you hope to
    achieve with it?

    DH:
    The Solstice Film Festival represents the spirit of our community and
    a celebration of filmmaking talent and the art of cinema from around
    the world. SF offers a varied slate of films, special events and educational
    initiatives, presenting Minnesota with an engaging cultural event for
    both the local population and visitors to the Twin Cities.

    We achieve
    this through producing a very balanced event that touches on all three
    aspects of what we offer. Each year the SFF organization as well as
    our large selection committee views and rates over 600 shorts, documentaries,
    animation and feature films, with every genre imaginable. Though it
    is incredibly hard work and often times tough to make decisions, we
    feel by the time we have finalized our program we have the best of the
    best, always keeping our audience in mind throughout the process.

    We also hold
    panels during the event as well as throughout the year. This year, we
    have several well-known film directors and actors on board for our online
    panels held through our Web site.

    And of course
    you can’t have a festival without parties. Our event planners are
    top notch and transform our gala venues into incredible party atmospheres.
    Our parties allow the festivalgoers to interact with the showcased filmmakers,
    local celebrities and perfect strangers who share their passion for
    cinema.

    The Rake:
    What type of films does the festival typically show?

    DH: The
    films that have screened at SFF have been truly across the board. However,
    we try to find films that one day could have, "Coming to a Theater
    Near You" attached to it. From the first year, we have won accolades
    for our programming, and we feel that is from our devotion to "uncovering"
    the next great talent in filmmaking. Our selection committee is made
    up of movie critics, actors, filmmakers, teachers, business professionals
    etc., so we pull feedback from a very eclectic audience.

    The Rake:
    Are you a film lover? What are some of your favorite movies of all time?
    Or anything you’ve enjoyed from the last few years?

    DH:
    I am definitely a film lover. I tend to annoy people when watching a
    movie because I find beautiful filmmaking in a film that others don’t.
    Though a compelling story is a must, I find that the way a filmmaker
    uses colors and a soundtrack can make or break a film. I also feel over-editing
    has made the actors’ job too easy. The constant camera shot of a Fred
    Astaire dance number or the impeccable timing and interaction of Danny
    Kay and Bing Crosby in "White Christmas" is just not seen anymore
    in today’s movies. And the simple slapstick of Chaplin and the genius
    use of props on set is a thing of the past.

    That said,
    innovation in film has given cinema and storytellers an endless world
    of possibility, and that is a great thing for the audience and the future
    of movies.

    The
    Rake:     How much work has gone in to putting on the festival? How many
    people are a part of the Solstice team?

    DH:
    It is a year-round job for our organization. We have already begun planning
    for 2009, making sure we stay ahead of the game and on the pulse of
    independent film. Throughout the year there are only 4 of us who work
    on SFF, then around May we bring on a much larger staff. Each member
    of SFF has a full-time job at other companies. I am a partner in a real
    estate firm, and the others work for a magazine, media company and professional
    sport team. It is truly the passion for film and what we have created
    that motivates us to produce SFF each year.

    The Rake:
    Is the plan to have the festival every year? Any hopes for its future?
    Where do you see it going from here?

    DH:
    SFF is an annual event. We are in negotiations right now to extend the
    event to Minneapolis as well; making it the true Twin Cities film festival.
    From here we just stay the course, make strategic and smart decisions,
    and keep growing the event.

    The Rake:
    What kind of audience are you hoping to draw to the festival?

    DH:
    Our audience grows every year, and it truly depends on what film is playing
    as to what audience demographic walks into the theater. The greatest
    thing about movies is there is one for everyone. Young, old, male, female,
    child or adult, there is something for everyone at Solstice Film Festival.


    CAPSULE
    REVIEWS: opening and closing films

    KILLER MOVIE
    dir. Jeff Fisher

    I
    need to preface this review by saying this: I love horror films. Along
    with science-fiction (and crime/gangster movies a close third) it’s
    my favorite film genre. Writer/director Jeff Fisher clearly isn’t
    trying to do anything different here, instead relying on tired clichés
    that felt dated 20 years ago. The movie is about a reality TV crew – covering
    the local high school hockey team – being stalked by a killer in a remote
    North Dakota town.

    I
    also hate reality television (if you can even call it reality) and
    have no interest in the lives of either celebrities or people wanting
    to be celebrities. I also played hockey for most of my life through
    high school. So this movie had a lot to prove to me from the beginning.
    Fair to say I was not impressed with this non-scary, unfunny attempt
    at slasher horror/comedy.

    The
    problems in the movie are evident from the beginning; clearly not much
    thought was put into the production: the setting is North Dakota during
    the high school hockey season, so that usually means lots and lots of
    snow and cold, but you wouldn’t know that by watching Killer Movie
    because, save for some of the wardrobe and a few throwaway lines, the
    movie was clearly shot in the summer or spring – you know, usually
    the leaves on the trees have fallen off by this time of year in the
    Midwest, so when the characters go into the woods and it’s as green
    as Al Gore’s greatest wet dream, the movie has some problems.

    Other
    mishaps include a really lame reveal of the killer in the end, an even
    lamer ending (sequel anyone? Sure hope not), a Paris Hilton-type lead
    character named, get this: Blanca Champion (a joke I’m sure, but it’s
    not funny), horrible dialogue ("she was decapitated, heart beat less"),
    clichéd characters and attitudes towards the Midwest (no cell phone
    service, are you kidding me? Someone still thinks that’s a quality
    plot device?), an irritating soundtrack complete with a bunch of teeny
    pop crap I’ve never heard of, and hockey action that is way too unrealistic
    (high school hockey players have to wear face masks. I hate when these
    details are missed in sports in movies).

    If
    you’re a true fan of horror movies, you will hate Killer Movie.
    If you’re a novice to the genre, you might have a bit of fun, though
    it is quite violent. These kinds of horror movies are better left in
    the $2 bin at Wal-Mart, and that’s way too much to spend on it if
    you ask me.

    BROTHERS
    AT WAR     dir. Jake Rademacher

    A
    completely different movie from Killer Movie in every way, Brothers
    at War     is an often touching and very personal look at a filmmaker’s
    family dealing with the consequences of the Iraq War. Director Rademacher
    focuses his lens mainly on brothers Isaac (Platoon leader in Afghanistan,
    Captain in Iraq) and Joe (sniper in Iraq), but also makes himself a
    character in the documentary.

    Through
    his narration and observant eye, Jake Rademacher gives an intimate portrait
    of soldiers serving in Iraq without any political baggage. It is to
    the film’s benefit that he avoids any kind of political context to
    the story. It’s completely unnecessary here and it’s been done a
    lot in the past few years. Rademacher claimed that his film is unique
    because the filmmaker actually goes to Iraq, but Morgan Spurlock’s
    (Super Size Me) latest doc Where in the World is Osama Bin
    Laden     did the same thing.

    All
    in all, Brothers is a good film. Rademacher is the only person
    in the world who could tell this
    story, so that makes it special. Things get a little melodramatic and
    manipulative (the score really wants to pull the audiences’ heartstrings,
    but comes off a bit obvious) towards the end, and it drags a bit in
    the third act as Rademacher goes back to Iraq on a mission with a separate
    unit.

    I
    was pleased to see some unflinching looks at war violence that was captured
    by Rademacher and his camera crew, as well as some much-needed, but
    unexpected, moments of humor (courtesy of some great brotherly banter
    that will make any one with a brother laugh). Rademacher also gets some
    good interviews and footage of Iraqis, many of which have a positive
    outlook on America’s involvement in their country. That certainly
    makes Brothers stand out amongst all the negative views of the
    war seen in the media every day. I’m against the war myself, but it’s
    good to see all perspectives.

  • Bush Money

    My friend calls it his "Bush money." When I got my own Bush money—six hundred dollars from the Department of the Treasury—I stared at the words. Economic. Stimulus. Package. I’m not one to buy China-made plasma TVs, but I did want to help the American economy by buying something I wouldn’t have otherwise bought. Something fun. Something stimulating. So I decided to trade in my economic package for a different kind of stimulating package. The silicon kind.

    I nervously made my way to the Smitten Kitten, Minneapolis’s progressive sex shop. I had always lacked the guts to go there because, well, I’m a prude. A prude-and-a-half, really. But, as I entered the store and checked out the clientele and merchandise, I told myself I had to help America out. There were plenty of customers amidst the colorful dildos and vibrators, which, had they been in a paint store, would have had names like "mint moonshine" and "silver dawn." I shared company with a woman who I mistook for a honky-tonk man named Cletus, a coiffed blonde who could barely walk on her wedge-heeled sandals, a man bearing striking resemblance to Paul Wolfowitz, and three young girls in trendy leggings.

    I hung back while Jennifer, the seven-month pregnant owner sporting Mary Janes and a pixie haircut, fielded customers’ questions. She made her customers feel comfortable by talking about sex like she was discussing the ins and outs of turning a rotisserie chicken or changing a bike tire. One of the younger girls asked Jennifer in a mousy voice for a book that would shed some light on the personal problems she and her partner were having. Jennifer suggested ditching a book in favor of self-experimentation.

    "Yeah, cool…cool," the girl said, shrugging one shoulder like a junior high student trying to impress a friend while hanging out at the lockers. "Yeah, cool," she said once more like she had never said the word in her life.

    That made me feel better.

    It was my turn to ask Jennifer for help. She would have sensed my discomfort even if I hadn’t let it spill out of me like a broken bag of rice. I started out by bumbling on about how this whole excursion was inspired by Bush, and ended up saying something like, "blah ha ja ha blah." She listened patiently and then told me she’d start with a tour of the store.

    "It’s just like I’m giving a tour of the library," she told me. "You know, here’s the microfiche, and there are the atlases."

    Yeah, cool…cool. Libraries. I know a thing or two about libraries.

    Halfway through our tour we paused at the remote controlled vibrators. One caught my attention because the graphic designer of the "Waterproof Remote Egg Vibrator" had done a bang up job of creating the crappiest cover ever. It donned a busty model looking like someone had accidentally splashed her with a container of day-old popcorn butter. Looking at the cover, I had a hard time understanding how this image really turns people on. For all my mistrust of the Waterproof Remote Egg, though, Jennifer assured me that this was the best one of its kind. I was about to ask her just how she knew, when, reading my mind, she cut me off.

    "We took the remote around the corner," she explained. "You know where Falafel King is?" I was familiar. "Well," she continued, "it still worked even when we turned on the remote all the way from the Falafel King."

    I pictured a staff member with runny cucumber sauce and falafels in one hand and the remote control in another. Then I tried to imagine a lover trying to get his/her partner off from the local falafel store, and still had a hard time understanding just why this whole remote control thing would be necessary. I must have looked dubious because Jennifer told me, "It’s a good product." She stopped and turned over the Waterproof Remote Egg Vibrator, spying a crack down the fuchsia plastic. "Oops, this one’s broken," she said apologetically.

    I assured her I wasn’t going to buy the floor model anyway.

    When we got to the end of the tour it was time to shop. Standing among the multi-textured dildos I felt like I had entered the cereal aisle of a grocery store. Do I want Life, Cinnamon Life, Chocolate Cinnamon Life, or the new Fruity Life? Shoot, I thought, how could there be so many options? It is America, but come on. I mentioned this to Jennifer, who laughed and told me that, yeah, there were a lot of options.

    She paused for a second and added, "and then there’s size." Gulp. She picked up a dildo with the word "Randy" on the side of the box.

    "Randy?" I asked. Randy would be bionic if he were real, like the Incredible Hulk. On steroids.

    "Oh, they all have names in this brand," Jennifer told me, passing me Randy. "Todd, Jim, Spike, Joe."

    Oh, geez. Okay. Yeah. Cool. Randy. I asked her if they had a George, but no such luck.

    Feeling like a teenager in a Judy Bloom novel, I looked at the overwhelming selection as Jennifer left me to size up the situation on my own. Despite my novice attitude, I finally picked a nameless dildo and bought some books on great sex writing. The price tag for everything was $84.14, which meant I could still dump $515.86 into my savings account. This was definitely a shopping trip I wouldn’t have made without the help of the government.

    Fun? Yes. Stimulating? Yes.

    Thanks, Dubbya.

    I have only one regret. Half my purchases were made in Germany.

  • The Man Behind Bigger, Stronger, Faster

    Thanks for taking the time
    to talk to The Rake. I throughly enjoyed the film.
    How did you get into film, particularly documentary film making?

    Well, it’s interesting, I didn’t
    ever want to make a documentary, but my brothers and I had been talking
    about the whole steroid issue, and I was already a filmmaker at the
    USC film school. I was also probably the only filmmaker who is
    a power lifter (I can bench press 500 lbs) so between lifting weights
    and making movies and it was the kind of the time to put them both together
    I guess.

    When did you decide that
    this was a documentary you wanted to make?

    Part of it came from talking
    to my brother Smelly about this guy in the locker room. He was
    laughing that this guy Andrew was on the juice and we started think,
    well maybe there’s more to this and we started discussing it.
    Before that my producer Alex and I were discussing doing a film together
    about the subculture of bodybuilding and body obsession but we really
    didn’t have our finger on what the subject matter would be, something
    to do with the gym you know? But it all kind of came together
    to be about steroids and American culture through talking to my brothers
    and talking to my producer.

    Tell me about the process
    of making the film, how did you bring people on board? How did
    you initially finance the film?

    Well it’s pretty simple, Alex
    Buono our producer worked out in Gold’s Gym with me and we were talking
    about this project. I was actually selling memberships there just
    to pay the bills (as a filmmaker you’re not always on the top of the
    world money wise) so it basically came about that he wanted to produce
    it. So I went over to his house basically every day and a friend
    Tamsin Rawady who is a documentary filmmaker got attached to the idea
    as well. We all started to develop the idea together as a team
    so we spent about 3 months writing the treatment and my producer Alex
    gave it to his agent rob who also represents Jim Czarnecki, the producer
    of Bowling for Columbine and Fahrenheit 9/11. Jim read the treatment
    and fell in love with it so he got on board to produce as well, but
    he lives in New York so he was more of a supervising producer.
    From there we basically went out and started raising money and Jim kind
    of served as our insurance policy to get the film done on time and make
    it all happen.

    How did the film change
    from inception to the final cut? Are their interviews you wanted
    to get but couldn’t? Any additional points you wanted to make?

    You know it’s funny from the
    original treatment to the final cut the film changed a lot and I’ll
    tell you the original treatment was so well written and thought out
    so the question was: how can we get this on film? So we went through
    this whole process of interviewing all these people and we thought a
    movie about steroids just wouldn’t cut it so we set it up to be about
    cheating in general. After awhile we realized that the steroid
    issue was so big and complex that we had to come back to it so we ended
    up cutting the film back so it ended up pretty close to the original
    treatment. As far as interviews, we obviously wanted to interview
    Arnold [Schwarzenegger], Hulk Hogan, and Sylvester Stallone but a lot
    of times there are some things people don’t want to talk about.
    It was something we just had to put our heads together and figure out
    how to tell the story without actually having those interviews.

    This film puts you
    and your family under a lot of scrutiny, how did you initially pitch
    the film to them? How do you think they will be impacted by the
    film’s release?

    Um, I used completely hidden
    cameras and they don’t know that I made the movie [laughs]. Basically
    my brothers wanted to talk, they had a story they wanted to tell and
    in talking to my mom I just said, "Hey, you know I want to do this
    movie about steroids," and she said, "Oh, so you want to involve
    your brothers, so I guess you’re going to talk about how you guys are
    all natural even though everyone else is taking steroids." I
    told her that there were actually a lot of things in the movie that
    she probably wouldn’t like and she said, "Yeah, I’m fine with everything,
    I don’t really care."

    You
    know I would always ask my mom to be in my projects and if I told her
    I needed someone to play the crook she would be like, "No I’m not
    going to be in it!" Now that I finally get her to be in one
    of my movies it’s actually quite a bit different different than she
    expected. I think in the end that if you really watch the movie,
    she likes the way it helps our family communicate.

    I was really struck by how
    exhaustive the film was in terms of the number of interviews you did,
    the lengths to which you went to make one point another, are there parts
    of the film that you would have liked to include but couldn’t for lack
    of time? What ended up on the cutting room floor?

    We had a cut that I thought
    was actually really good, it was 2 hours and 15 minutes which is really
    long for a documentary. You know I was watching Bowling for Columbine
    and noticed they could have cut a minute here and a minute there and
    put in other stuff. So when I tried to pack the documentary full
    of stuff at like an hour and 49 minutes it was way too full. Even
    now it’s kind of a dizzying pace but it’s just the right tone and you
    don’t get too confused. What I didn’t realize when I was first
    making the movie was that sometimes you just need to breath, you need
    a couple beats for people to digest the information."

    What’s next for you?
    Any more projects in the works?

    I’m working on a TV pilot about
    Gold’s Gym basically, it’s sort of the office with wacky characters
    that I’ve met in the gym over the years and the little situations that
    have come about. I’m also working on a documentary tackling the
    subject of obesity.