Sh*t My Dad Says -- The Right Book Review

After a failed relationship, 29 year old Justin Halpern returns home to live with his Dad and sort out his life.

He begins to document all of his father's crazy bits of wisdom and cultivates a large social-media following with Twitter and Facebook accounts called Shit My Dad Says.

He also lands a book deal.

If that doesn't make every struggling novelist want to choke someone, nothing will.

A Meeting With Joel Thomas Hynes

Met Joel Thomas Hynes today and had a nice chat about writing. The guy is as stand-up as they get. No bullshit with him and if you've read Down to the Dirt you know he's from a rough side of the tracks and unlikely to coddle you when you sit down with him.

What I like about meeting people like him, people with hard, knuckle and bone pasts, is how perceptive they are about others. Not to mention how much empathy they often have for humanity in general. A universal acceptance not always evident from those of us with less-difficult upbringings.

Before we met he read several pages of my latest project, tailoring his advice to what he saw. It appears I'm on the right track (whatever that is), but I thought I'd mention a few suggestions he offered--at least this is how I understood them:

1) Write your ending and paste it into the body of your piece--no matter where you are in the story. Even if the ending changes by the time you're finished, write it into the story anyways. Why? Because it marks an end point, a goal to progress towards.

Writing a story is not always a linear process, so write the ending down as soon as you have an idea of what it is. If you have it and the beginning, you essentially have your story. What is left is bridging the gaps in between.

2) When you get bogged down, try changing POV. Move to 1st person for awhile, even if the rest of the story is told in 3rd. Perception is key--not just how your protagonist perceives others, but also how others perceive him/her.

Often helps flesh a story out, by incorporating the viewpoints of several characters, perhaps making a particular event more (or less) reliable by revealing it through the eyes of many instead of just one.

3) Pare down every sentence to the bare essentials. Man I know I need to work on this more. Consider each sentence and reduce it.

4) Play on the readers' emotions and fears. Whatever you're working on, there will be people who identify (for good or ill) with what your story is conveying. Work with that, make the story use this potential to your advantage. Not pandering to the reader per se but realizing the emotional connection. The trick is to avoid the sentimental or melodramatic. Easier said than done.

5) Find your real title. Seriously. It should embody your entire work down to a few words. I'm working on this right now and it's proving to be more difficult than I anticipated. It also makes me wonder--especially when I look at some book titles on shelves--how many people don't spend enough time on this.

General advice, in some regards, but important I think. Check out some of Hynes' work, if you're interested:

Down to the Dirt
Right Away Monday
Down to the Dirt (film)

Last Call for 2009: Film, Music, and Books

No way I can post any definitive lists this year. Raising a 2 year old does not allow for a ton of free time. There were so many films I didn't get to see and most of my viewing was spent catching up on what I missed in 2008.

But I did catch a few great ones. Heard a few brilliant albums. Read a few outstanding books.

Books (None from 'o9; just ones I read this year)

1) Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being - Posits humor, sex, and some damn fine philosophy into a great humanist piece. His Theodicy of Shit is brilliant.
2) Cormac McCarthy, Suttree - A god of prose, McCarthy's characters and settings shudder with a deep sadness. Consistent with his other books, the always-present theme of human choice.
3) Erik Larson, The Devil In the White City - Big surprise for me. Non-fiction paced like fiction. Larson comprises a narrative arc by showing the connection between one of America's defining moments in history (Chicago World's Fair) and also its first serial killer.
4) John Steinbeck, The Pearl - Steinbeck re-creates old Mexican folklore and puts together some impressive mythology. Great descriptions with his usual grasp for story.
5) Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle - Unlike anything I've read before. Murakami plays with chronology and dual-realities without traipsing into silly fantasy. Subtle at times, but always with the tension of beauty and violence.

Film

1) The Road - Hillcoat's astonishing recreation of McCarthy's novel is only overshadowed by Viggo's acting.
2) State of Play - Great dialogue, pacing, story-lines. Intelligent political commentary.
3) District 9 - Sharlto Copely put on the acting job of the year, in my books. Plays with themes of identity and refugee and manages to foster real empathy for CGI aliens. Worth every penny.
4) Coraline - What happens when Pixar takes a tab of acid. Dark, luminous story-telling with gorgeous effects. Stop-motion animation at its finest.
5) Two Lovers - A sedate, strangely realistic romantic film that focuses more on human decision than trying to manufacture a pretty ending. Some great ambiguity here.

Music

1) Mastodon, Crack the Skye - Moody and progressive with great story-telling. Avoids most "metal" cliche--not to mention the best album art in the past decade.
2) Pearl Jam, Backspacer - Great form that hints at their earlier work without sounding immature.
3) Magneta Lane, Gambling With God - An example of Canadian Arts Council funding going somewhere worthwhile. The lead singer's voice somehow bridge's the gap between two vastly different eras of female vocals.
4) Baroness, Blue Album - In the same vein as Mastodon. Well crafted, ambient metal that borders on being literary.
5) Alice in Chains, Black Gives Way to Blue - heavy, morose, and with a new vocalist that seems up to the task, though likely forever singing in someone else's shadow.

Ben Affleck's Book Picks

Alright, I get ridiculed enough already for thinking highly of this guy. I mean, let's face it, he's made some dumb-ass movie choices over the years--as far as artistic quality is concerned. But a recent interview I happened to read cited his logic behind some of his more maddening decisions. He basically said he was more than happy to take high-paying, crap-acting jobs that meant 6 weeks of work and the rest of the year off to be with his family and work on personal projects. Makes sense to me. Now if only I could be afforded such a luxury.

I'm not doing myself any favors by posting a link to Affleck's book picks. The link goes to that cursed befouler of television, Oprah, and her ridiculous magazine on which her wretched mug is pasted. Not my fault! If there was a better link with the same info, I'd use it. Everyone knows I attribute the general decline of North American intellect to Oprah's television show. Add Dr. Phil to the mix and the world becomes a slack-jawed beast of burden.

However, Affleck's book picks are pretty damn impressive. Moreover, his articulation of his choices is even better. Say what you want about his prissy films (and I'll probably agree), but the man is well read. And I dig that.

Affleck's Top Five Books

Again, sorry for making you go to one of Oprah's website. I should be skinned alive for that.

Kundera's Theodicy of Shit

I finished The Unbearable Lightness of Being last week. My wife's assessment sums it up best: it's the kind of book that embeds itself in your mind, and plays out little by little, for weeks and weeks after. My gut feeling is that Kundera's writing is of a quality unlike any other. In this book he, as the narrator, steps right into the scenes and halts them, physically prevents them from continuing until after he finishes a particular thought. It's as impressive as it is infuriating at times. I have no idea how the movie adaptation works with this dilemma.

One has to wonder what is left when all the commentary is removed. What are the character arcs and how, if at all, are they reached? I'm not sure I have an answer. I know I love the book, but resent it a little too. It's pretentious in parts, some scenes clearly written to provide the author a soap-box. But my resentment is also in knowing he speaks of things with an authority beyond my grasp. I know I will return to this book again and again, each read providing something new.

That being said, there are reams of quotes worth mentioning. Most of them already lurking about different blogs. One that has stayed in my brain since I last put the book down is Kundera's ponderings on God, humankind, and shit. To put the quotes in context (to the best of my knowledge), Kundera the narrator is examining the existence of shit, and the need to defecate, and the seeming unacceptability of the act (by persons) because of a strange shame attached to it, and how it poses a problem with the basic theological tenets of God's relationship with man.

Kundera (as a child) imagining God:

He was a bearded old man with eyes, nose, a long beard, and I would say to myself that if He had a mouth, He had to eat. And if He ate, He had intestines. But that thought always gave me a fright, because even though I come from a family that was not particularly religious, I felt the idea of a divine intestine to be sacrilegious. Spontaneously, without any theological training, I, a child, grasped the incompatibility of God and shit and thus came to question the basic thesis of Christian anthropology, namely, that man was created in God’s image. Either/or: either man was created in God’s image — and God has intestines — or God lacks intestines and man is not like him.

The ancient Gnostics felt as I did at the age of five. In the second century, the great Gnostic master Valentinus resolved the damnable dilemma by claiming that Jesus “ate and drank, but did not defecate.” Shit is a more onerous problem than evil. Since God gave man freedom, we can, if need be, accept the idea that He is not responsible for man’s crimes. The responsibility for shit, however, rests entirely with Him, the Creator of man.

Kundera explaining how the denial of shit is kitsch:

As long as man was allowed to remain in Paradise, either (like Valentinus’ Jesus) he did not defecate at all, or (as would seem more likely) he did not look upon shit as something repellent. Not until after God expelled man from Paradise did He make him feel disgust. Man began to hide what shamed him, and by the time he removed the veil, he was blinded by a great light. Thus, immediately after his introduction to disgust, he was introduced to excitement. Without shit (in both the literal and figurative senses of the word) there would be no sexual love as we know it, accompanied by pounding heart and blinded senses…

Behind all European faiths, religious and political, we find the first chapter of Genesis, which tells us that the world was created properly, that human existence is good, and that we are therefore entitled to multiply. Let us call this basic faith a categorical agreement with being. The fact that until recently the word “shit” appeared in print as s— has nothing to do with moral considerations. You can’t claim shit is immoral, after all! The objection to shit is a metaphysical one. The daily defecation session is daily proof of the unacceptability of Creation. Either/or: either shit is acceptable (in which case don’t lock yourself in the bathroom) or we are created in an unacceptable manner.

It follows, then, that the aesthetic ideal of the categorical agreement with being is a world in which shit is denied and everyone acts as though it did not exist. This aesthetic ideal is called kitsch… Kitsch is the absolute denial of shit, in both the literal and the figurative senses of the word; kitsch excludes everything from its purview which is essentially unacceptable to human existence.

The Reader: Complexity Through Ambiguity

I've been meaning to comment on the film The Reader for quite some time. It's one of those films that kicks you in the stomach. You feel the pain of it for days after. But before I pass commentary...

I read Joyce's Dubliners a month ago. Good book, the kind perfect for literary criticism though I suspect not as relevant in contemporary short-fiction. Joyce present his characters as normal folk, in normal circumstances--without pretenses. This simplicity is deceptive actually, because the reader feels lulled by the seeming lack of action and winds up glossing over certain nuances, or a careful crafted sentence that explodes with epiphany. I certainly did. But those moments when I was the perfect, captive audience, Joyce skillfully brought his complexity to light--revealed. Of course, Joyce is responsible I think for a lot of what is taken for granted in short-stories now. The ambiguous ending, the internal arc of a character, the simple but loaded gesture--all found in his works, though one could argue in rawer form.

Moving from Joyce to The Reader means taking the themes of complexity through ambiguity and placing them on the screen. Not always an easy task, though I suspect film is more suited for this. One perfect scene and all the facets it incorporates can flawlessly reveal several pages of literature--in the right hands, that is. The Reader begins with a somewhat taboo tryst between a youth and an illiterate, middle-aged woman in post WWII Germany. The first act focuses almost exclusively on this, creating what I perceive as a genuine, though complex, love between the two people. You know the woman, played by Kate Winslet, is hiding something. Her actions suggest this, though no reference is made to give credence.

By act two the proverbial bomb has been dropped--Winslet's character has Nazi affiliations. The story moves from the comfortable love affair to darker waters, the kind that warrant certain judgments to be made. What makes this film remarkable is the complete empathy given to all the characters involved. Stephen Daldry (who also directed The Hours) presents his characters as human beings capable of horrific acts, not horrific human beings who act according to their nature. And the distinction can be made (and should be). Most war films do not engage in presenting the enemy as complicated, loyal humans--especially WWII films. The enemy is this vague, oppressive shadow, a faceless wall of flesh that swallows bullets and bombs and speaks through a gaping maw of sharp teeth. Daldry rejects this--or at least draws this from the book and uses it to his advantage. He reveals the lunacy of black-and-white morality, the notion of the monster and instead injects sympathy in unlikely, but completely believable ways. The sympathy is huge, and the ending is so painful, so frighteningly lonely because the moral high ground one is normally inclined to take lies shattered at their feet.

One should note that most critics missed this about the film. They wanted the "horrors" of the holocaust, they wanted their traditional monster. The Reader never denies these things, it simply tries to add a complexity lacking in other films of similar subject matter.

In a previous post I lamented the lack of good films this year. But in the past month or so, I've managed to watch several films that make up for all the garbage. The Reader is at the top of this list.

Paul Newman Dies

Funny thing about Mr. Newman, I've never considered him one of the best--just one of my favorites. Part voice, part character, part icon I suppose. My favorite story of him is when he took out a newspaper ad to apologize for his lousy performance in The Silver Chalice, the kind of action that suggests self-deprecation, humility, persistence. Not that all of his work is a shining beacon of light over the vast darkness of Hollywood. But he does have so many great performances.

Look at Cool Hand Luke, Nobody's Fool, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, or Road to Perdition. With the exception of Cool Hand Luke, none of these films come close to perfection but his performances in each and every one of them is remarkable, full of nostalgia and a confidence from an older, better era of film-making. Old-school charisma or, as the slogan on the cover of my Nobody's Fool DVD says: Worn To Perfection.

I don't know the man outside of his film characters, but the records of his charity work are equally if not more impressive. The loss is two-fold; not only do we lose another link to a dying era in film-making, we lose a humanitarian. And Lord knows there's not too many of them around either. So, I doff my hat to Mr. Paul Newman. A person worth remembering.




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Oscar Picks 2008

Nestled in my vast wealth of cynicism, in some small, protected corner of my aging, fragile mind, a blossom of tasteless love exists. The love is not pure, nor is it selfless. It wallows in self-indulgence and is wrought with superficiality. Thankfully, I only bring it to the surface once a year. All my other guilty pleasures--none of which I shall name here--need room to breathe as well.

The Oscars: a completely biased, inconsistent, bungled affair of glamor, cleavage (God bless it), pageantry, and the occasional intelligent decision. I love 'em, every spastic, melodramatic second. I snorted with glee when David Letterman imitated Jack Nicholson and beat the living hell out of a car with a golf club (1995), while the camera panned to Nicholson's unsmiling face. I bellowed like a mule when Halle Berry burst into tears and started to blubber as she accepted her award for Monster's Ball (2002). What other chances do we get to see celebrity at its narcissistic, disconnected finest? Where else can we go to celebrate a person rather than the art, their outfits rather than their craft?

And so, in the blessed spirit of all things profane and plastic and held together with double-sided tape, I offer my picks for The Academy Awards 2008, the more auspicious title for the Oscars--in case you were wondering. And these are not predictions by the way, merely opinion of who I think is most worthy. It was a brilliant year for film, one of the best in memory. This alone makes watching award shows worthwhile, just to see those brief clips of genius. Here goes...

Actor in a Leading Role: Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will be Blood. The man is the pinnacle of depraved genius, bringing a complexity to his characters that borders on the absurd. Worth noting that every other nominee in this category deserves a nod in the highest order. All great performances.

Actor in a Supporting Role: Tom Wilkinson in Michael Clayton. Tough call here. Javier Bardem was outstanding, as was Philip Seymour Hoffman. But Wilkinson's monologue in the opening sequence of the film clinched it for me. It was a performance rather than just a presence.

Actress in a Leading Role: Julie Christie in Away From Her. Difficult characterization to play, yet she pulls it off with such grace. Took my breath away, really. Hats off to Ellen Page in Juno as well, who was lovely and adorable and all things good.

Actress in a Supporting Role: Tilda Swinton in Michael Clayton. Her character's uncertainty, her denial, her moral bankruptcy and appetite. It was like being witness to the fall of an empire.

Directing: Joel Coen and Ethan Coen for No Country For Old Men. The closest I've ever seen a film come to what I would define as literary. Their use of silence and setting, allowing a scene to speak for itself without resorting to manipulation. Flawless. Huge nod to PT Anderson for There Will Be Blood, which was such a close second I almost couldn't decide.

Writing (original screenplay): Diablo Cody for Juno. Has a second-to-none grasp on vernacular and timing. Loved the internal rhythm of the screenplay, her willingness to never shy away from that necessary reality that sparks true humor.

Writing (adapted screenplay): Sarah Polley for Away From Her. Alice Munro's "The Bear Came Over the Mountain" was treated well here, with intelligent decisions (in my mind) made by Polley to make the story breathe for the screen. Such mature writing, combined with direction, really made this stand out for me. Hats off to the Coen Brothers as well. PT Anderson's adaptation was so loose I'm not sure it was an actual adaptation as much as it was an expansion of an idea.

Best Film: No Country For Old Men. Everything comes together for this film, writing, sound, acting. It is the equivalent to watching a great novel (which it was) unfold on screen. And my God the ending of this film, so flawless and subtle with its complexity. This film in and of itself made the entire year worthwhile.

Sadly, I was not able to see any of the short films (animated or live action), nor was I able to see the foreign films this year. It's a huge disappointment, for I consider short films as I do the short story: a profound and refined art form. Foreign films are a luxury rarely afforded where I live. Few theaters ever show them. But rest assured I shall seek them out in the video store as soon as I can.

There are my picks. Now what are yours?
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New Film Reviews

Here are some links to my latest film reviews. Something strange happened with the formatting, which I shall blame on the software. Yes, that's it...the software. You'll find them in the side bar too, but here they are anyways...

No Country For Old Men

There Will Be Blood

Charlie Wilson's War

Those of you who have seen them, feel free to post your assessments as well. Always curious what others think...

Best and Worst Films of 2007

Good year for film if you ask me. Once you navigate through the fetid pile of horse shit that represents the decline of intelligent film viewing, that is. The great and the wretched...in order.

1)No Country For Old Men: The Cohen brothers' stark landscapes, minimal dialog, and unflinching moral questions paint Cormac McCarthy's Texan novel onto the screen with care. Horrifying at times, but not gratuitous. And no wasted "filler" scenes. Raises interesting questions of fate and consequence, without spoon-feeding the audience with some bumper sticker explanation. And the ending, my God the ending. Flawless. Number one for me this year.

2) Eastern Promises: After the fatally flawed A History of Violence, Cronenberg redeems himself with this gutter ballet. The violence is not the focal point, even though it is a touch overly choreographed. A great cast of characters, all with their own story. And Viggo is pure menace.

3) Michael Clayton: The opening rant by Tom Wilkinson is worth the entire price of admission. The story has been told before, but never in a manner as fierce as this. Outstanding acting by all involved, but never over the top, and thankfully void of melodrama.

4) Sicko: You don't have to agree with everything Michael Moore says to appreciate his championing of the underdog. Sure, some of his scenes are staged, but he brings to light the everyday social injustices that most people either completely ignore or justify with a pathetic rationale of "every man for himself". This is by far Moore's most focused film and hopefully some of the stories will affect even the staunchest of capitalist hearts.

5) Zodiac: David Fincher's directorial abilities have improved greatly. This story is so well-crafted, the tension being built from organic character responses to circumstances. And character is what this film is really about, the flaws, the obsessions. I was surprised this movie didn't stay in the theaters very long. Truly worth watching.

6) Waitress: Lovely, small budget film. Loved the idea of using various pie recipes as metaphor for the protagonist's life. Keri Russel is outstanding. The film manages to avoid so many of the potential cliché disasters that go along with these kinds of stories. Clever, human, funny, and genuine.

Wretched viewing:
1) 300: Absolute garbage. Made in 2006, but not released until 2007, this film is nothing more than an example of marketing. Tedious, witless, and insulting. The only value this film could have would be as an academic exercise in dissecting homo-erotic subtext. Horrible dialog. How many times do men in leather speedos have to bellow out where they're from? I left with ten minutes remaining, wishing I had stayed home and read a good book.

2) Smokin' Aces: Another film made in '06 but released in '07. Scattered story line, flat characters, and Jeremy Piven typecasted as an annoying, self-righteous degenerate. Not even worth elaborating further.

3) 28 Weeks Later: A perfect example of studios capitalizing on a great film by making a stagnant and sub par sequal. Whereas the original (28 Days Later) created a post-apocalyptic environment that lulled the viewer into a false sense of security, this film replaces most of the suspense with gore, and the ever-present, ever-nauseating "America saves the day" rhetoric. The few genuine frights that did occur were hardly worth sitting through the film for.

4) Music and Lyrics: I'm usually a sucker for Hugh Grant comedies. Not sure why. This film is wretched, though. Probably has something to do with Drew Barrymore being in it. All the humor is flat (pun intended) and overused. Dull.

5) Oceans Thirteen: What a strange film. It banks on the reputation of the characters from the previous two. Funny banter is only hinted at, replaced instead with celebrity closeups and the constant suggestion that something really good may happen at some point. It never does. Over the top plot with holes a mile wide.

Those I Regrettably Haven't Been Able to See Yet:
1)There Will Be Blood:>Lord knows this would be at the top of my list, but I can't rightly put it there until I've viewed it. Stupid local theaters.

2) Into The Wild: I have not seen a poor directorial effort by Sean Penn yet. And this looks to be even better than his other works. Eddie Vedder's soundtrack is outstanding as well.

3) Before The Devil Knows You're Dead: Great director with what looks to be a grand achievement. Mind you, Ethan Hawke does not quite do it for me.

4) Juno: One look at any trailer and you know this film will be spectacular. Sharp vernacular and affectionate, effective characters. I'm pissed I haven't seen it yet.

Film Adaptations (Part 1: The Introduction)

Film adaptations are common fare in the movie industry. Books, comics, and now even video games all stand the chance of cashing in on one of North America's largest forms of mass entertainment. And why not? The skeleton for such enterprise is already there. Comics, especially the graphic novel, are steeped in visual connection, freeze-frames of static action arranged into the kinetic. Books, the most obvious choice, reach an even wider audience when their delicate and careful narratives are transposed into a visual feast. Even video games, though I loathe to admit ever considering an adaptation of one of these, also contain the basic core elements needed for film: protagonist, conflict, action, resolution. In fact, video games may be a step beyond film in that they take cinematic experience and make it interactive, immersible. So, in some ways their adaption to film can be viewed as regression. But the film adaptation is a money maker to be sure, regardless of what form it adapts from.

Converting books to film is still the most common form of adaptation. We've all had the experience being moved by a delicious piece of literature, perhaps
Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient or
Russell Banks' The Sweet Hereafter or
Affliction.

But often we are disappointed when the book appears on screen. To some extent it's a matter of course. Books, especially well written ones, rely wholly on the imagination of the reader. The author uses their skills, their terse prose or poetic narrative, to relay the story, but the reader gets to construct it all in their mind. The reader has the opportunity to put the blue eyes on the round face or see the fields of barley around a dilapidated barn. The reader takes cues from the author, and then revels in the unending possibility of imagination.

Film is not the same. The audience is presented with the interpretations of others, and they are many. A book is a solitary effort. Films are the result of collaboration. The imagination, at least on the audience's part, is removed --though the suspension of disbelief may be forced to remain. I remember when I saw the first installment of The Lord Of The Rings, I marveled at Gollum on the screen. He fit my experience of him in Tolkien's books to the letter. Same with Aragorn. But this is nothing more than coincidence. Each of us have our own visions of a particular character or setting. The chances of a director and crew, who for the most part are complete strangers to the audience, satisfying every member of an audience is near impossible, and not conducive to creativity at all.

What I'm getting at here is that mass disapproval of film adaptations often stems from a misplaced ethic. The reader wants the book to be represented exactly, and this is impossible. The creators of a film are not privy to the minds of their audience, but on top of that the mediums are quite separate --their own language if you will. Converting a particular story from book to film is really a translation from one language to another. Each medium has its own strengths and limitations. Direct translation is not possible, or if it is possible it certainly is not pragmatic. Decisions are made, risks are calculated, and someone else's interpretation and vision is being captured. If we can accept this from the start, our perception of the final product on screen takes a different quality. We begin to notice the decisions made and question why. We begin to treat the book as a separate work of art from the film. And from here we can generate true criticism.

More to come...

Paul Thomas Anderson

Right so, one of my favourite directors, Paul Thomas Anderson, known for Magnolia and Punch Drunk Love, has a new film out. There Will Be Blood, based on the Upton Sinclair Novel Oil!, works with the always interesting themes of family, greed, and faith. Of course, having Daniel-Day Lewis, one of if not the best character actor(s) out there, as the lead doesn't hurt either.

I don't normally blog about upcoming films, but I find Paul Thomas' work to be unique in many regards. He relies on all the facets of cinema to help tell his story, not just the usual action sequences and closeups of teary-eyed actors. He's not afraid to introduce a sense of randomness, though it would be erroneous to consider such things wasted scenes. Often accompanied by lengths of silence punctuated by vibrant, focused sound, the stories contain strange events, texture for the characters and narrative, but never so far removed as to be a distraction from the whole. And it works too. The moments in Magnolia and Punch Drunk Love are often breathtaking, always with emotional sincerity and affection. Wonderful stuff.

Now, it remains to be seen if There Will Be Blood will sustain the same elements we've expected in the past. But why should it? Why not just appreciate the fact that a good film is coming down the pipe from a knowledgeable, caring hand? Great films are so few and far between these days, it's always nice to anticipate their arrival.