Michael Jackson, 1958-2009

I don't think I've really processed this one, yet. It's an epoch-shattering event, on the same level as the deaths of Elvis or John Lennon, but by now we've seen so many of these superstars-turned-crazy-tabloid-fodder-turned-corpses that it almost feels like it was inevitable, like this was the logical next step after Kurt Cobain, Tupac Shakur, and Anna Nicole Smith.
I mean, we all knew that Michael Jackson wasn't going to have a happy ending, right? That he wasn't going to grow old gracefully and dote upon his grandchildren, Prince Michael III and Blanket II? And I can't help but think of that scene from Three Kings, the one where the Iraqi is torturing Marky Mark and asking him, 'why did you make Michael Jackson cut up his face?'
But my point is, it still doesn't feel real. This all feels like the Hollywood simulacrum that should predictably happen in the second-rate film of Michael Jackson's life. Which means, of course, that Jackson's life had inevitably followed the Hollywood script that he knew it would.
So that's that, but it's still incumbent upon a member of my generation to pay homage to one of the most famous people who ever lived, who was possessed of an incredibly, boundary-shattering talent for music and dance. So here's my favorite music video of his, possibly the first place I ever really was acquainted with zombies, Thriller (via Youtube link).

J.G. Ballard, 1930-2009

James Ballard reached his widest audience with Empire of the Sun, his memoir of his childhood during World War II, but I first discovered him thanks to David Cronenberg, whose film of Crash (the only good movie with that title) led me to the novel of Crash and also to Concrete Island and The Atrocity Exhibition - novels that are cold, detached, filthy, deranged, deterministic. They also represent frighteningly well the second half of the 20th century, that period when machinery and regimentation really took over the industrialized West. Ballard's triumph as a writer was to combine the radical pornographic defiance of William S. Burroughs with the modern post-War environment of parking garages, freeways, and reality TV.

The real triumph of his work, though, was the beating heart that permeated it - his was no attitudinal posturing, as his modern successors like Chuck Palahniuk can often fall into - Ballard was a traumatized intellectual, sharing his trauma, both personal and sociological, with the world. And for that, I thank him.

Charles Darwin's 200th Birthday

Before the date passes, I wanted to give a little shout-out to the man who (with Mendel) basically invented modern biology as we know it.

Before Darwin, biology was classification, of species of plants and animals into different categories, the curious creations of unknowable forces. After Darwin, biology was a science, an interconnected system of predators and prey, habitats and ecosystems operating under a consistent set of rules. He was a great innovator and greatly contributed to the advancement of human knowledge.

What's frustrating, of course, is that so many people are still irrationally opposed to Darwin's ideas, mostly without really understanding them. You don't see people lined up in opposition to Nicolas Copernicus for removing the Earth from the center of the universe, or Freud for exposing the complex workings of the irrational brain, but because Darwin's ideas don't correspond to the anthropocentric notions that so many believe in, people still blame him for everything from moral decline to the Holocaust. But the great movement of humanity and science over the last thousand years or so has been the gradual acceptance and understanding of reality, and I believe that over time, the arc of history leans towards knowledge. Which is why Darwin should be celebrated, this year as always.

Also, who knew that on the same day in 1809, in a wealthy home in England and in a log cabin in Kentucky, two of the most controversial figures of the 19th century were born? Weird coincidence.

Beverly Garland, 1926-2008

This is the time of the year when any number of talented, hard-working actors vie for awards in classy, glossy studio movies, so it seems appropriate to also remember the career of a talented, hard-working woman who worked in Hollywood for decades but is today best-known for My Three Sons and a handful of early Roger Corman movies - a realm in which good acting is even harder to recognize, when it appears.

I first encountered Beverly Garland in the Mystery Science Theater 3000 episode/Roger Corman movie It Conquered the World, in which her husband, played by Lee Van Cleef, is helping an evil carrot from Venus try to take over the world. Passionate yet rational, Garland's character proceeds to take matters into her own hands, and marches down to its cave in Bronson Canyon armed with a rifle to eliminate the monster. What follows, while cheesy and ridiculous, is nonetheless a perfectly fine piece of film acting, bold yet committed and firmly aware of the genre and tone around her. You can see bits of her performance in this trailer, at about the 1:15 and 1:40 marks.

I mean, it's easy to look down at this kind of material, but committed acting is what audiences respond to, and if you find yourself suspending your disbelief in this movie, or The Alligator People or Not of This Earth, it's because of the hard work of Beverly Garland.

Rest in peace.

Forrest J. Ackerman, 1916-2008

I've been living in Los Angeles for seven and a half years now, and one of my big regrets is that I didn't make it to the Ackermansion while there was still time. In case you don't know what I'm talking about, the legendary Forrest J. Ackerman, who coined the term 'sci-fi' and set thousands of young minds alight with his Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine, transformed his house over the years into a teeming museum of Hollywood memorabilia and props, and would give jokey, pun-laden tours of his collection for tourists and fans. Until, that is, a few years ago, when he started selling it all off in advance of the inevitable, which has now arrived.

So I never got to meet Forrest J. Ackerman, but he had as much influence on the world of science fiction and fantasy literature and filmmaking as anyone in the last century - he was friends with Ray Bradbury and Ray Harryhausen, he inspired Stephen King and Steven Spielberg, and he was basically the spiritual godfather of the modern movie geek.

And now he's gone from us. He'll be missed.

Paul Newman, 1925-2008

In a year that's seen some pretty major losses of Hollywood talent, here's another one. Paul Newman was the kind of guy that Hollywood was all about - tough yet sensitive, glamorous yet down-to-earth, one of the most successful stars of his generation yet still possessed of a remarkable integrity and taste for projects that rarely pandered to the lowest denominator. In other words, he was a one-of-a-kind, one of the all-time greats.

I regret to say that I haven't seen a lot of his classics (Hud, Harper, you're getting bumped higher on the to-see list). And while I love his performances ranging from the cocky, youthful brilliance of The Hustler to the wise charm of The Sting to the crotchety comedy of The Hudsucker Proxy, one performance that I want to single out for recognition is what Newman did in The Towering Inferno. It's a big, junky movie, one meant for a mass-market popcorn-chewing audience with very little pretense of quality (even if it did manage a Best Picture nomination). And I would say that it's almost more of a challenge to give a really good performance in a movie like this, with a just-adequate script and nobody really looking for 'quality'. But Newman gives a solid, professional performance, the kind that actually makes you believe in the absurd premise of being trapped in a skyscraper with no sprinkler system. Of course, I'm sure this movie paid a lot better than Nobody's Fool, but still: it's a sign of his consistency and his movie-star charm to shine even in junk. He'll be missed.

George Carlin, 1937-2008

In a year in which celebrities have been dropping dead left and right, this is one that really hits home for me. George Carlin wasn't just a comic, he was a pioneer, a leader second only to Lenny Bruce in a singular realm: that of the supreme cut-through-the-bullshit artist. Carlin was 71 when he died, but he always seemed much younger than he really was to me because he retained an air of still being with it, of riding the tides of society, of not getting bogged down by his own encroaching age. And he was just about to get a Kennedy Center honor.

And did I mention, he was hilarious? As in, really terrifically funny about pretty much every possible subject under the sun, and a few where the sun don't shine. He was a brave soul, a guy who saw the human race for more or less what it is, and a terrific entertainer.

He'll be missed.

Harvey Korman, 1927-2008

Wow, this year people are really dropping like flies. I'll always primarily remember Harvey Korman from the Carol Burnett show (which I saw in syndicated reruns) and in a bunch of Mel Brooks movies. He was one of the great character actors, with perfect comic timing and totally unafraid to do or say incredibly silly things.

And of course, we'll always remember him from the Star Wars Holiday Special.

Sydney Pollack, 1934-2008

Another loss of a respected, classy director. I'm sorry to say that I've only seen a handful of Pollack's movies, with Three Days of the Condor probably my favorite, a loose-limbed yet suspenseful spy thriller with a terrific cast. I mostly was familiar with Pollack for his performances in movies like Husbands and Wives and Eyes Wide Shut, where his presence as character actor was almost unique in this day when directors can't humble themselves to work for other directors, even though he's perfect in both of those films; and as producer on such modern classics as The Talented Mr. Ripley and Michael Clayton. He was a multitalented guy in the true sense of the word, crafting and working on intelligent, grown-up projects with unpretentious taste, and in a world increasingly dominated by movies for preadolescent boys, his contribution will be missed. Unlike so many others who were apparently on death watch for him, his passing comes as an unwelcome surprise.

Robert Rauschenberg, 1925-2008

It's worth noting that this week we lost this pioneer in the art world, who bridged the gap between the Abstract Expressionists of the post-war era and the more postmodern realm of Pop Art and conceptual art in the 1950s and '60s. He's probably best-known for his 'combines', which followed on the lead of the Dada artists of the 1920s in bringing together painting, sculpture, and found items in a mental framework that broke down traditional barriers between art and life.

I personally don't care much for a lot of contemporary art, which usually seems more based on rehashing stuff learned in art history classes and finding new ways to make money through faux 'shocks' than actually creating works of shared emotion. That said, Rauschenberg's works were genuinely pioneering in an era when American art was fairly homogenous, and bold in a time when boldness was less of a commodity than it is today.

We're living in the future

And not in the nifty, Jetsons, flying cars kind of way, but in the crass, stupid, Robocop kind of way. Or maybe real life and The Onion are just converging. Example number one: the Time Warner corporation calling for us to invade yet another country - you know, for their own good. I mean, I'm a liberal and I'm in favor of people not starving from natural disasters, but I don't want these kinds of things proposed by multinational corporations posing as 'news' organizations - even if only for rhetorical purposes.

Second, the new stories about the U.S. military subcontracting cremation of dead American soldiers to a pet crematorium. It's obnoxious enough that our government has sought to sweep the caskets of dead soldiers under the rug for the last give years, so as to keep people from noticing them at all; but to cheap out on a level like this really gives the lie to the 'support our troops' argument the Republicans have been harping on (again).

Charlton Heston, 1924-2008

There goes another icon. It's easy now to look at Charlton Heston's clenched-jaw acting style and his histrionics in Soylent Green or The Omega Man and make fun of him, but even though the performances are often hammy and stilted, they still work, they still have an impact on an audience thanks to their power and intensity. Heston came of age as an actor in the pre-Method era and was simply a different kind of actor, one who was best at playing larger-than life icons. Heston's Moses or Judah Ben-Hur or Neville from The Omega Man are big, bold performances driven by strong, broad emotions, and they're great. Nobody else, then or now, could do what Heston did.

Even if Heston had rigid political positions, he was still an advocate for civil rights and against McCarthyism, and he leaves us performances in movies from The Greatest Show on Earth to Touch of Evil to Major Dundee to Earthquake to Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet. I think my personal favorite performance from him would have to be as Taylor in Planet of the Apes, because it's so perfectly iconic, and because it's his most intense, angry slow burn in of career of slow burns. Who doesn't know "Get your hands off me, you damn dirty ape!"

Arthur C. Clarke, 1917-2008

This one is less of a surprise, but for me it's even more painful, because I grew up as a sci-fi nerd and Clarke was one of my trinity of favorite writers, along with Asimov and Bradbury.

Clarke's particular focus had to do with an expansive view of the universe, in which people are only a tiny part of a vast, grand cosmos, but with our own unique potential. His was an optimistic, humanistic voice that has been a huge influence on not just science-fiction but in popularizing science and making people aware of the larger world around that we all share.

But as he said last year on his 90th birthday, he mostly wanted to be known as a writer and as an entertainer, and he succeeded at that admirable: 2001, Rendezvous with Rama, Childhood's End, all terrifically entertaining and inspiring.

Also, he wasn't above wondering about ape-men and the Loch Ness monster:

Anthony Minghella, 1954-2008

This was a sudden surprise, a talented guy gone too soon. Of the films he directed I've only seen The English Patient, Cold Mountain, and my favorite of the three, the elegantly twisted identity thriller The Talented Mr. Ripley, which I love. But I also knew Minghella from his writing (Jim Henson's The Storyteller) and producing (The Interpreter and Michael Clayton). Above all, though, I knew him through his interviews on filmmaking and writing and editing where he demonstrated class, erudition, and artistic passion. His films are well-made and classy (almost to a fault) in an old-fashioned Hollywood way that's increasingly hard to find in a world of empty spectacle and pale recycling.

Condolences to his friends and family.

Roy Scheider, 1932-2008

A guy like Roy Scheider is the kind of underrated talent that never really gets their due in Hollywood, even as they hold movies together through the simple power of their charm and dependability. Everyone remembers Robert Shaw's salty seadog in Jaws and his Indianapolis monologue, but it's Scheider who grounds the movie and brings the audience in, a trickier job than it looks.

In addition to Scheider's classic performance as Brody in Jaws and his solid supporting roles in films from The French Connection to Naked Lunch, he got to shine as Bob Fosse, er, 'Joe Gideon' in Fosse's All That Jazz, one of the great charismatic jerks of the 1970s.

Scheider had a long, sturdy career and he'll be missed as an underrated contributor to several classic films.

Heath Ledger, 1979-2008

As Robert Altman said, the death of an old man is not a tragedy; not so with a young man just at the beginning of what seemed to be a brilliant career.

I had been aware of Heath Ledger as an actor for a long time in mediocre movies like 10 Things I Hate About You and The Patriot before I realized what he was capable of with his strong performance in Monster's Ball, and then even more with his amazing performance as Ennis Del Mar in Brokeback Mountain, which I would agree is one of the finest film performances in this decade.

What his performances had in common was an extreme commitment to the focussed internal lives of his characters, almost to a fault (as with his completely committed, over-the-top performance in Terry Gilliam's Brothers Grimm) His performance as Ennis is quiet, withdrawn, repressed, but Ledger's commitment to his character's thoughts and feelings is so total that we never have a doubt as to what's going on inside of him, the struggles raging within this quiet, unhappy man. It's a terrific piece of work that will, sadly, be Ledger's legacy.

Best wishes to his friends and family.

PS: I don't think the incessant TV coverage was as obnoxious as when something happens to Paris Hilton or Britney Spears, but there was at least one moment of perfect crystallized awfulness that I watched earlier, on the TV Guide network, when one of their people made the segue, "He plays the Joker in next year's Batman sequel, but there was no laughing today..." Good lord.

Michelangelo Antonioni, 1912-2007

Wow, I hope Godard and Resnais are taking it easy today. Unfortunately, I've seen even fewer Antonioni films than I have Bergman films (3 - L'Avventura, Blow-Up, and The Passenger, plus his section from Eros). Antonioni's style and subject matter is even more forbiddingly high modernist, and more of its time, when the old orders of Europe finally crumbled under the weight of the modern age. To be perfectly honest, I can't say that I 'get' L'Avventura or Blow-Up, although that might just be because Antonioni's style and message have so permeated the art-movie that they just seem like part of the landscape now. The Passenger, on the other hand, I love because it feels simultaneously more personal and more playful than the previous two, less mired in what Pauline Kael called 'come-dressed-as-the-sick-soul-of-Europe parties'. But I need to revisit as many of these movies as I can. All this viewing makes me wish I was out of work right now so that I could have more free time.

Ingmar Bergman, 1918-2007

Sad news of the death of one of the great filmmakers today. I'll always think of Bergman, along with Kurosawa and Fellini, as one of the big three of the foreign/arthouse period of cinema history - for many people, the definition of a foreign film was two people sitting in a room talking about the mysteries of existence and not looking at each other. For example, a clip: http://youtube.com/watch?v=h2f0nfrgaK4

I regret to say that I have only seen seven of his 60+ films, a shortcoming I will do my best to fix. Those seven are: Fanny and Alexander, Cries and Whispers, Persona, Wild Strawberries, The Seventh Seal, Through a Glass Darkly, and The Virgin Spring. In thinking about these films, the associations that come to mind are of an educated, sensitive man reckoning with the blind chaos of the universe and trying to make sense of it all; sometimes, with bitterness, sometimes with warmth, but always with passion and intelligence. Also, those performances, true down to the bone, and that cinematography, thanks to Sven Nykvist - those brilliant contrasts, light shining down to expose the soul of the individual.

I also notice that, assuming it's still open, the New Beverly is showing The Virgin Spring and Wild Strawberries this Wednesday and Thursday here in Los Angeles.