DVD note

Renaissance, last fall’s completely-unseen tour-de-force animation triumph, was released today on DVD. I don’t know how it will look on your TV set, but it blew my mind in the theater.

(Here is what I had to say about it last fall.)

(And here is the official site, where you can see some of this imagery in action.


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George W. Bush: worse than a William Morris agent.


Let me be the first to say it: this man is a dangerous retard.

Many years ago, I had an agent at William Morris. He was an idiot. Literally everything he did, and everything he advised me to do, was bad for my career. Oh the stories I could tell. He botched deals, angered producers, over-sold me, under-sold me, advised me against every good lead I found, actively sabotaged my projects, and once negotiated a deal on the behalf of the producer optioning my material instead of on the behalf of his client (me). Our partnership ended when I brought his behavior to the attention of his superiors in Los Angeles.

It took me a long time to figure out just how bad at his job he was (one of his tactics was to make me feel like I was a moron and a failure, and, being new to the business I had no reason to doubt his opinion), but I finally did.

And then one day he called and said there was a lady visiting New York from Hollywood and she wanted to have a general meeting with me.

ME. A “general meeting,” what does that mean exactly?
IDIOT. She just wants to sit down and get to know you a little bit.
ME. So, should I have a pitch ready for her or anything?
IDIOT. Oh, heavens no, that would be the absolute wrong thing to do, please don’t do that.

I hung up the phone, sat down and, straight-away, wrote out pitches for five movies.

A few days later, I went to meet the lady from Hollywood at the William Morris offices. We met, shook hands and were shown into a conference room. Before she had even sat down, she said “So. Tell me an idea for a movie.” Luckily, I had listened carefully to my idiot agent’s advice and so proceeded to do the exact opposite thing, so I was prepared to pitch a whole bunch of stuff to the lady from Hollywood. That lady was Nina Jacobson, and that meeting, probably the most productive and important business meeting of my life, ended with our friendship beginning, and thenceforth to me having a real career in motion pictures.

My point is, I think we’ve reached that point with president Bush.

I think we’ve reached the point, at least two years gone now, where all we really need to do is, when we read a headline like “Bush Insists Al Qaeda in Iraq Threatens U.S.”, we can just go ahead and assume that Al Qaeda in Iraq does not threaten the US. And yet, the New York Times runs the headline they do, rather than post the more accurate “Power-drunk Man-child Babbles Incoherently Regarding Things He Knows Nothing About.” Why give the man any respect at all? Why is it that I, with no journalistic or poli-sci background whatsoever, can better see what this administration is doing than the editorial staff of the New York Times?

It’s simply exhausting, with this administration, to keep one’s level of outrage going. Watching Z the other night with

 , I kept thinking — “is this what it’s going to take, are Bush and Cheney going to have to actually murder their opposition leaders anyone says “Hey, what’s the deal with that President Bush guy?” before people will starting paying attention? Will Nancy Pelosi have to be clubbed to death by thugs hired by Cheney before people will begin to sense there is something going horribly wrong in this country? Will Al Gore have to be gagged and thrown into the back of a van and whisked off into the night before anyone notices that we’re not living in a democracy any more? (Note — the folks in Z, it should be noted, get away with murdering their opposition leaders, and a lot more other people too).

Here’s some headlines from just today:

Gonzales lets slip that there are other domestic spy programs, in addition to, you know, tapping everyone’s phones.

Gee, somehow, no matter what, oil prices just keep going up. Funny how that works.

You know how we said the surge was “a last chance?” Well, we had our fingers crossed. Suckers!

And, finally:

Bush’s lawyer vigorously defends Bush’s right to crush boys’ testicles if he wants to.

Now there’s a real measure of scary.  Just think: Bush is willing to go on public record insisting has the right to crush boys’ testicles.  Now imagine the stuff he doesn’t want us to know about

The saddest thing about the administration, of course, is that they don’t even have a plan for what happens after they’re gone. They don’t see how, for example, when their party inevitably falls from power, all their dismantling of the constitution will still be in effect, and will inevitably be used against them by their successors. They honestly haven’t thought that far, all their energy has been toward simply accruing as much power for themselves as possible, making a ton of money and screwing everyone.

I think the sooner we start treating Bush and his administration as I treated my idiot agent, the sooner we’ll all have the best, most productive meeting of our lives.


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Synopses of movies I haven’t seen yet, based solely on their posters: Stardust


click for larger view.

Somewhere in a far-away magic place, Robert DeNiro is worried. And a little sad. I don’t know what’s worrying him, but it must be something pretty bad, because he’s Robert Freaking DeNiro.  What would worry Vito Corleone, Travis Bickle or Max Cady?  It must be some great big monster or something.

Maybe the big monster or something is endangering the boat he’s driving — he’s worried, but his crew is struck with abject horror.  I don’t think they’re horrified by the lightning storm behind them — presumably when Robert DeNiro picked a crew for his sea-going vessel, he made sure that his men wouldn’t be scared by lightning storms.

Whatever it is, if Robert DeNiro is worried and a little sad about it, I’m worried about it too and more than a little sad.

But look! Michelle Pfeiffer isn’t worried or sad at all! No, over on her side of the poster, where the light is sunnier, she’s not worried or sad one bit. Know why? She’s got a secret! And she’s not telling Robert DeNiro. It must be a pretty big secret, she’s doing the villain finger-steeple trick while she contemplates it.  O delicious secret, let me make a steeple of my own fingers while I contemplate you, too!

I’m guessing Michelle Pfeiffer’s delicious secret impacts most strongly on the young couple in the middle of the blazing, misty sunset. This couple may be deeply in love, but they are headed for endsville, you can tell, because the Tall, Dark, Handsome Guy (TDHG) with the sword has just been startled by some life-threatening thing behind him (maybe the same big scary monster that worries Robert DeNiro).

But wait!  Claire Danes, TDHG’s girlfriend, has a secret too! Whatever just snuck up on this young couple, TDHG just got caught unawares, but Claire Danes knew about it the whole time. In fact, I’d say that Claire Danes set up her boyfriend! She’s Mata Hari!  But wait!  She’s Claire Danes, she can’t be that evil.  Maybe there’s merely been some kind of misunderstanding.  Maybe it turns out that the Big Scary Thing isn’t big or scary after all.

What do Guy With Pipe (GWP) and Older Guy With Sword (OGWS) think about all this brouhaha?

GWP is skeptical — he’s seen it all, GWP has, maybe he’s tangled with Secretive Michelle Pfeiffer before, maybe he knows something about Possibly Duplicitous Claire Danes, but mostly GWP has kept to himself over the years, leaning back, smoking his pipe by the firelight and thinking about the wild adventures of his youth, when bulky felt hats were all the rage.

OGWS, on the other hand, isn’t ready to settle down — he’s got somebody to fight! With a sword!  Is the the Big Scary Thing?  I don’t know, but responsibility hangs heavy on the brow of OGWS, and confusion.

Why is he confused? Maybe because his left arm doesn’t quite match up with the sword he’s carrying. No, it looks like his left arm is about six inches higher than his sword, and furthermore, seems to be carrying some sort of ill-defined blunderbuss (which, as any gun expert will tell you, is the worst kind). So either OGWS has dislocated his left forearm, or someone else is sneaking up behind him, or else the sword is maybe acting on its own accord. Any one of these things would be enough to worry me, especially if I were not famous enough to get my name on a poster.

In summation: the men greatly outnumber the women in this faraway magic place, but that’s okay because the women have secrets.

UPDATE: It appears that Mr. Neil Gaiman has stumbled upon this post. Greetings, Mr. Gaiman and his fans! I mean no disrespect and greatly look forward to seeing your movie.


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