Let me handle this. I'm a professional.

I am the new official film reviewer for the Madison, WI–based Core Weekly, "Madison's new arts & entertainment magazine." They wanted a Chicago-based reviewer because all of the press screenings are in Chicago. It's only going to be one or two reviews a week, and it's not much money, but it's exposure and a press card. Will I get business cards? Will I get to schmooze with The Ebert? Only time will tell. My first reviews won't be for a couple of weeks, but you can be sure that I will link to them from here.

Photos

I've started posting my travel photos from Southeast Asia online. You can see them here. Some have captions, some don't. I plan on uploading all of them eventually, at least all of the ones that are at least somewhat interesting.

Sneak Preview Screening

Going to be in London on July 20? Go see the sneak preview of a rough cut of Unauthorized and Proud of It: Todd Loren's Rock 'n' Roll Comics, the latest documentary from BulletProof Film. My artistry and technical skill are present in almost every frame: I called a lot of people to help track down a lot of the stuff that's in the movie. I also sent a lot of faxes and emails. That's the not-so-prestigious side of making documentaries, although it all has to be done.

It's the life story of Todd Loren, a San Diego comic book publisher who made his name publishing unauthorized comic book biographies of rock stars, such as Guns 'n' Roses and the New Kids on the Block, most of whom sued him. In a landmark decision, a 9th District Court judge ruled that he had the right to publish unauthorized biographies; the only point on which the judge ruled against him was the use of trademarked logos. Loren was murdered in 1992, a case that remains unsolved. Was the murder a revenge killing, the action of a crazed rock star out for blood? Was it an early murder by Andrew Cunanan, who made the FBI's most wanted list five years later for his high-profile murders of other rich homosexual men? Or was it a random act of violence? Nobody really knows. Loren's story has everything: sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll, murder, mystery, and, of course, comic books.

Addendum: There's also a test screening in San Diego on Friday, July 15, in conjunction with the San Diego ComicCon.

CD Tag

I have been tagged by Nick of Nick's Flick Picks twice now, once for a book questionnaire that I avoided, and now for this CD questionnaire, which is much easier for me than the book one would have been.

1. Total Number of CDs/Albums I Own: Around 300 on my shelves, plus 50 or so sitting on spindles in my desk. I'm weird about CDs: I have to see them, or else I'm not going to listen to them. I ran out of space on my shelves, and now most of my new copies are languishing. I tried binders, thinking that it would eliminate my prejudicial privileging of encased CDs over uncased CDs, but that lasted about a week before I flipped out and replaced all the CDs in their cases, which I had presciently stored in a closet, thinking that this very thing would happen.

2. Last Album I Bought: Last album I acquired would be more accurate; that would be Basie at the Sands, Count Basie's landmark 1966 performance. Along with it, I got Frank Sinatra's At the Sands with Count Basie, which was recorded the same night. I've been getting into jazz more and more lately, and these are two great CDs. Before that, I picked up Destiny Street by Richard Hell and the Voidoids (I'm also going through a punk phase). The last CD I shelled out money for was Sinatra's Songs for Swingin' Lovers.

3. Last Album I Listened To: Since I did most of my CD listening in my now-departed car, I can't rightly remember. Oh, wait, I know. At my theater, while I'm building the prints for Saturday's show, I like to listen to something loud (so I can hear it over the clattering reels). Last night, I was pumping Mission of Burma's Vs.. "Learn How" and "That's How I Escaped My Certain Fate" are two of my favorites.

4. Currently Listening To: You mean right now? Nothing. I don't usually listen to music at work, because I'm an editor and I can't concentrate when someone's singing in my ear. Let's turn on iTunes and see what shuffle turns up... "You Win Again" by Hank Williams.

5. Lyrics or Beats?: Lyrics, lyrics, lyrics (if I had to choose). I'd choose music over lyrics, but "beats" is different than "music." I don't listen to much beat-driven music—not much R&B, not much funk, no dance music at all. To paraphrase the guy who inspired this post, I'm more likely to go for Tom Waits than Kylie Minogue.

6. First Album You Fell in Love With: Now you're asking potentially embarrassing questions. It was Billy Joel's Greatest Hits, Vols. 1 and 2. I was eight or nine, we had the double cassette, and I knew every single word of every single song. And I'd sing them, too, in "concerts" my sisters and I would put on for our own amusement (in between pretending to be superheroes).

The second and third albums I fell in love with are equally embarrassing. The second, which was the first cassette I bought, was Richard Marx's self-titled debut, and the third was Motley Crue's Theatre of Pain, a CD that defined my musical sphere of interest for several years, until I discovered...

7. Biggest Impact: R.E.M.'s Out of Time, which I think my friend Billy stole out of a car and gave to me. It was really eye- (and ear-) opening; I never really looked back. Before that album, all I listened to was hair metal, and it really opened up new musical vistas for me.

8. Favorite Album: This one is tough. I tend to get tired of albums quickly. Things I listened to constantly when I was younger sit unopened on my shelves. I guess Morphine's Cure for Pain is one of the few CDs that I've had a long time and can (and do) still listen to. It was the first CD I'd ever bought based solely on a review: John Popper of Blues Traveler said that it was like taking off his socks after a long, hot day at work. That was enough for me. Also, The Tragically Hip's Phantom Power is another one that I never get sick of.

Right now, my favorites are Stereo Total's Oh Ah!, which is weird and irresistable, and probably Richard Hell and the Voidoids' Blank Generation.

9. Most Listened To: Morphine's Cure for Pain, R.E.M.'s Reckoning, Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Hedwig and the Angry Inch (the original cast recording, not the movie soundtrack), Elliott Smith's Figure 8, and The Tragically Hip's Phantom Power.

10. Sexiest Album: Define "sexiest." How about Hedwig and the Angry Inch? Is Marvin Gaye's Let's Get It On too obvious? I am fond of Massive Attack's Mezzanine, too. Oh, and I can't forget Dusty Springfield's Dusty in Memphis, especially "Just a Little Lovin'." And Roxy Music's Avalon, especially after Bill Murray's interpretation of "More than This" in Lost in Translation.

11. Biggest Disappointment: Hands down, it's R.E.M.'s Reveal. Although it's hard to believe I was still capable of being disappointed by them, after their steady decline after Monster. I suppose it was the biggest disappointment because it was the point where I gave up on what had once been my favorite band.

12. Five Albums That Mean the Most to You: They're scattered in here already. Morphine's Cure for Pain was the soundtrack to much of my time in college, and the lyrics of "I'm Free Now" still make me smile ("I got guilt I got fear I got regret, I'm just a panic stricken waste, I'm such a jerk"). The Hedwig soundtrack, for various reasons. Elliott Smith's Figure 8. Mercury Rev's Deserter's Songs. But #1 is The Tragically Hip's Phantom Power.

Getting Political Again

I haven't been doing political posts lately because politics depresses me and makes me anxious. But hey, when I saw the Downing Street Memo, I felt encouraged. Surely this is enough evidence to bring down Dubya: evidence that he lied to Congress and the American people, enough evidence to perhaps get him impeached. And there's support in Congress, too: John Conyers, of my home state of Michigan, is demanding answers from Bush. Could this be the thing that gets him? Could this be the beginning of the end for Bush?

Um, yeah. Sure. I'll believe it when I see it.

I'm Alive! I'm Dead! I'm the Stranger...

Apparently, I am an existentialist. No, really. I don't have a beret, and I've never hung out in the sewers of Paris plotting the downfall of the fascist overlords, but I'm officially pals with Sartre. Here are my quiz results:

The Worst Time I Ever Paid for It

After a comment conversation with Nick of Nick's Flick Picks, I thought I'd beat him to the punch and do an entry about the worst movies I've ever paid to see in the theater.

Note: I'm sure I saw worse movies than this when I was a youngster, but I didn't know any better at the time. For a long time, Police Academy 3 was my favorite movie. It wasn't really until the early 1990s that I realized that some movies were better than others.

10. Hannibal (2001). This is basically horror pornography. It's several major talents—Ridley Scott, David Mamet, Anthony Hopkins, Steven Zaillian—slumming. It's exploitative, nasty, and unredeemed by anything of value, except that it exposed the ratings system as a sham. Not that it made any difference.

9. 8mm (1999). More horror porn, this time actually about porn. Alejandro Amenabar's 1996 Spanish film Tesis covered the same ground without the garishness and sense of exploitation.

8. Bad Guy (2001). Utterly reprehensible garbage about a woman who falls in love with the man who ruined her life and forced her into prostitution. We're supposed to start to identify with the titular bad guy—look how far he's come! He feels a little bad about it, and he weally weally loves her. Bullshit.

7. Gothika (2003). So bad that I just had to get all poetical on its ass. For that, I suppose I appreciate it; no other film, before or since, has prompted me to write a sestina excoriating it.

6. Armageddon (1998). "It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." That idiot is Michael Bay. My ex wept through this entire film, and then on the way home when that crappy Aerosmith song came on the radio, she wept again. "Do you think it will win Best Picture?" she asked tearfully. I clutched the steering wheel tighter and said nothing.

5. Mystery Men (1999). The mere fact that you have a funny premise—a bunch of losers who pretend to be superheroes—does not mean that you can just rest on it. There has to be something more, some energy, some joy, some creativity. This movie sat on the screen in its funny costume and begged you to laugh at it. I laughed only once: when Ben Stiller finally summons some real super-anger ("No, I mean it this time").

4. Sibling Rivalry (1990). This is a nostalgic pick, but it's still crap. My friend Steve and I used to write reviews for a local paper while we were in high school. We were under orders to make the film sound interesting; if we expressed dissatisfaction, the local theater would complain and we wouldn't get in free anymore. With Sibling Rivalry, we had to struggle mightily to make it even remotely worth watching. I believe we said that it was "somewhat muddled." Those were strong words, given the circumstances. (Note: While I didn't "pay" for this movie, since the newspaper paid our way, I argue that there is more than one definition of "pay.")

3. Starship Troopers (1997). Even if you argue that I just didn't get it, that it was supposed to be that campy, that the characters were supposed to be cardboard cutouts, and that the dialog was supposed to be that corny, I still say that this movie was a waste of money (but not of talent, since there was none involved). This was one of those movies you get dragged to because you're hanging out with a group of people, and the majority votes to see it, even though you'd rather go see something good by yourself.

2. Paparazzi (2004). Nasty, brutal, and cowardly, a film about revenge that lacks the courage to sully its main character with dirty hands, Mel Gibson's fantasy of retribution against paparazzi is devoid of humanity among either the good guys or the bad guys. It's an exercise in vicarious sadism.

1. 9 Songs (2004). Not only was it completely without merit, it even managed to squander explicit sex and concert footage from pretty good bands. It was directed by a guy I like, Michael Winterbottom, and so I can only hope that it was a vanity project, and that he'll return to making watchable movies soon. To top it off, it cost me and my favorite art historian the equivalent of $34 to see it—we saw it at an art house in England, where the tickets were £8.50, and given the exchange rate, that took our two-ticket total to $34. Incidentally, this is the most popular review on my site; most people find it while searching for nude pictures of the female star, Margot Stilley.