Analyzing the Grand Budapest Hotel Trailer

Despite my love for all things Wes Anderson (well, almost all things), I haven’t really been following the development of The Grand Budapest Hotel. That’s not down to a lack of interest; I simply didn’t expect that there would be much reason to follow it yet. Last I heard, just a few months ago, it sounded like the casting was still being finalized. Then, this past week, boom, a trailer:

Maybe it’s just me, but it felt a lot like this project went from “I have an idea” to “Here ya go, finished the movie while you weren’t looking” pretty quickly. I’m not complaining. I’m actually thrilled. It’s slated for a March release, and the trailer looks fantastic.

Anyway, since I analyzed the Moonrise Kingdom trailer what feels like only yesterday, I figured I’d do something similar here as well. Actually I hope you’ll do most of the work for me in the comments; unlike with Moonrise Kingdom, there aren’t any major themes that I feel confident picking out of the scenes on display here.

With the disclaimer that this article will therefore be terrible and worthless, let’s begin.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

From the very first shot of the trailer, we know we’re squarely within Anderson territory. That’s absolutely his uniquely selective eye at work in the color, and it’s just hideously gorgeous. The starkness of the red, the flatness of the purple. It’s like minimalist art that only resolves itself into live action when somebody moves.

Ralph Fiennes and Tony Revolori seem to play the main characters in this film, and their relationship gets explained later on in the trailer. For now, we get some sketchy but familiar setup: a young man aspires to a position that seems to mean a lot more to him than it does to anyone else. In this case, it’s being a lobby boy at The Grand Budapest Hotel.

Fiennes, for what it’s worth, plays Gustave H., and Revolori plays Zero, which is about as on-the-nose as any Anderson name has ever been.

Zero is already wearing his lobby boy outfit, but we find out in a moment that he’s a “junior lobby boy in training.” It’s hard to imagine a more demeaning title, but something tells me Zero cherishes it.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

If you somehow didn’t realize you were watching a Wes Anderson trailer before, you definitely will now. Our next shot is his signature “Eye of God” perspective, gazing fixedly down at the lobby of the Grand Budapest.

The music that kicks in here got me very excited, as it sounds a lot like the work of Mark Mothersbaugh. However it looks like Alexandre Desplat is actually composing this one again, and I should probably give up hope that Mothersbaugh will ever come back for a full score.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Anderson’s films lose so much without that man on the soundtrack. I’m positive it will be good, but I’m also positive that his absence will continue to be felt.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

There’s a nice little montage of the carefully composed austerity of the Grand Budapest, and I don’t have much to say about it apart from the fact that it’s fantastic. I had a hard time choosing which snatch of footage to highlight here, but ultimately I chose this one because LOOK AT THAT PAINTING MY GOD THIS MOVIE.

The hotel setting is an important one to Anderson, for whatever reason. I was going to mention this in a later installment of Steve Zissou Saturdays (probably in April, 2034) but it’s kind of a running theme for him. It’s where the budding criminals hunker down in Bottle Rocket, it’s where Mr. Blume goes after his wife kicks him out in Rushmore, it’s where Royal Tenenbaum goes after his wife kicks him out in The Royal Tenenbaums, and it’s where Team Zissou goes to rescue their bond company stooge in The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou. Then, of course, there was Hotel Chevalier, which was the supporting feature for The Darjeeling Limited.

Anderson finally basing one of his films around a hotel — at least in terms of its title and setup — feels more than natural; it’s inevitable.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Every shot in this trailer is blocked masterfully. I just wanted to say that.

This seems to be Gustave exchanging pleasantries with his lover, though I can’t be sure if he’s romancing several elderly women throughout the trailer, or if they’re all the same one that ends up dead. They all look alike to me because I’m a big ageist bastard.

Let’s take a moment, though, to just admire Gustave here. Because my goodness. The bow tie. The mustache. The tiny shirt buttons. The lapel pins. This is why I love Anderson’s movies. This image right here. You can pause just about anywhere, and sit back, and admire.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

See what I mean?

We learn that Gustave’s lover was 84 years old, but was “dynamite in the sack.” We also learn of the romance, or at least infatuation, between Zero and Agatha, played by the gorgeous Saoirse Ronan. I can’t make out the book she’s reading here, and that disappoints me for reasons I’d be ashamed to discuss any further.

Zero’s hands on the carousel horse’s face are a perfect touch. It’s so wonderfully, vaguely inappropriate, and yet disarmingly innocent.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

We then get a lovely shot of Agatha from Zero’s point of view, with the carnival lights blurred behind her. However we also see her birth-mark, which taken in tandem with the joke about Gustave having sex with an old woman is slightly worrying.

I say slightly and I stand by it, because I understand that trailers are edited to make these tiny comic moments seem larger than they are; I doubt Wes Anderson made a movie that coasts on the joke of flawed people fucking.

Still, though, it’s the kind of thing I’d worry about in somebody else’s hands…that we’d get a scene that degenerates into Austin Powers “Moley moley moley” territory.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

A moment later, Gustave discourages Zero from pursuing his curiosity about the birth mark. I hope it’s a lesson he learns quickly.

That little dismissive finger gesture, by the way, is the moment that cemented for me that Ralph Fiennes belongs in a Wes Anderson film. Not that I had doubted it before…it’s just nice to see it confirmed so ultimately.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Zero, narrating, discusses his relationship with Gustave: Zero was to be his pupil, and Gustave was to be his counselor and guardian. The mentor-protege relationship is another career-long Anderson theme, and I wouldn’t be surprised if “surrogate father” is the unspoken third role Gustave takes on. The mere usage of the term guardian suggests that, but of course it could be meant in another sense, considering the violence we see later in the trailer.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Gustave is informed that the police wish to speak with him, and there’s a lovely, loaded silence before he agrees to see them. I love the quiet, blank expressiveness of Zero’s face, too.

I’m so excited to see this movie…probably even more excited than I was about Moonrise Kingdom. That movie was great, but it also felt warm and comforting. The Grand Budapest Hotel already feels kinetic and dangerous, and that’s going to be a very interesting contrast.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Anderson takes a moment to prove that the titles for Saddest Crime Scene Photo and Funniest Crime Scene Photo don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

We then get the single funniest moment of the trailer, in which Gustave calmly suggests that his lover’s been murdered and that he’s a suspect. He then turns on his heels and flees the police who are standing with their hands clasped harmlessly behind them.

This is gorgeous stuff. This is so perfect that if they decided to destroy all copies of the film tomorrow, I’d still be content to just rewatch the trailer endlessly. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to pull anything of substance from it, but I’d have a heck of a lot of fun trying.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Anyone want to turn this into an enormous print to hang on my wall? Christmas is coming…

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Or maybe I was wrong; the “I want some” speech by Gustave here is just hilariously, awfully, sincerely perfect. It made me look up the screenwriting credits on this film, and it looks like it’s just Anderson himself.

I think this is the first film that he wrote alone, which is surprising. The sometimes “gaggy” nature of this trailer made me wonder which co-writer was bringing that to the mix. Turns out it’s just our man Wes himself. And I kind of love him more for that. I love that one of my favorite living artists is channeling his inner Fozzie Bear.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

This is another moment I just needed to pause and appreciate. Look how impeccably composed this shot of Jeff Goldblum is. No element of this scene seems compatible with any other, and yet it’s so careful and deliberate. The rounded wall with the flat picture of the pig hanging on it. The candle sticks of different heights. A piano on the left and a stuffed bear on the right. I adore this.

We also learn that the dead lover is named Madame D. So I’ll just look up who plays her and…

…Tilda Swinton? Really? That was her? I honestly didn’t know that until this very moment. That’s some makeup job.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Madame D. leaves Gustave H. a painting called Boy With Apple. This seems to be an important element of the film, and it’s possibly what sets the entire plot in motion.

Also, note the mirror there. A later moment “mirrors” this one, with a magnifying glass.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Adrien Brody plays a man called Dmitri, but you’d never know it from his accent. I’m not complaining, but there you go.

He gets into a spat with Gustave H. that devolves into a slapsticky sequence of knock-outs. The Grand Budapest Hotel may turn out to be Anderson’s silliest film yet, but it feels so much like Anderson that I’m more thrilled by the possibility than wary of it. By all means, let the man make his comedy.

At the end of the sequence we get a chilling turn toward the camera from Willem Dafoe, which sort of complicates the humor of the sequence we just witnessed. Yes please.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

There’s that magnifying glass. Agatha seems to be in danger, or could potentially be. It’s something to do with the whereabouts of Boy With Apple, so Zero gives her a note written in code that tells her where to find it.

She expresses some understandable reluctance to be dragged into the affair, and then we see Zero and Gustave replacing Boy With Apple with this:

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Yep. This’ll be his silliest movie yet.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Some more fantastic blocking, and I especially love the way the policeman points in just such a way to the men on his right, and then shifts and points in exactly the same way to the men on his left.

And is there anything better than seeing people getting bossed around by a man they can only see from the chest up?

No. No there’s not.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

We see Bill Murray shouting for someone to get into his vehicle and a few more shots of somebody on the run. No idea who is running, or why, or from whom, which leaves the manic second half of this trailer feeling a bit directionless. That’s not a problem, but it does make the trajectory of the plot feel a little unclear at this point. Unlike the relatively straight-forward Moonrise Kingdom, I think even the most obsessive fan would find it difficult to make any confident guesses about the direction this film will take.

We also see a group of prisoners tapping away at the bars on their window in unison, presumably to very gradually chisel through. The sillier it gets, the more I can’t wait for the movie to floor me, and very likely break my heart.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

There’s a bunch of quick shots of the actors that hearkens back to the opening titles for The Royal Tenenbaums, and I almost wonder if we won’t get something similar at the start of this film. There are a lot of nice freeze frames here so by all means pause every one of them.

I just wanted to highlight the one above because we’re being promised that at some point we’ll see a shirtless Harvey Keitel covered in gang tattoos. If that doesn’t merit a special mention, I don’t know what does.

Oh, and this sequence reveals to me that the policeman in the floor is played by Edward Norton. YES.

Sorry, I promised analysis but I’m just gushing. So: Edward Norton played Scoutmaster Ward in Moonrise Kingdom and he was brilliant so YES.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

“You can’t arrest him simply because he’s a bloody immigrant” is another of those great, backhanded lines that it seems like Gustave H. will be full of. There’s a surprisingly raw scene of physical battery that results in bloody noses for poor Gustave and his lobby boy, and then a lot of shots of…um…shots being fired.

There’s also Gustave in prison, Willem Dafoe angrily skiing, and Zero in disguise. I am more than a little happy that the trailer actually sees it fit to downplay the action, spending longer stretches on the dialogue, awkward pauses, and beautifully framed shots of doomed relationships. What should potentially be the most exciting thing in the film — the catalyst that brings all of this chaos raining down — is barely even alluded to.

Because that’s not as important as who these characters are. How they act. And what they see when they look in the mirror.

Well fucking done.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

The trailer ends with a great scene of Gustave being dismissive and impatient while Zero tells him about his experience under torture. The punchline to the scene is also a lovely button on the trailer itself.

The interplay between these two characters — both of whom are played by newcomers to Anderson’s world — looks like it’s going to be some standout stuff. I genuinely cannot wait to see the finished product.

And so ends my analysis, devoid of analysis. With so little context I’m unable to dig very deep. But I am able to be primed absolutely for an unrivaled night out at he movies. And frankly, at the end of the day, that’s what I’d prefer.

Roll on March 2014.

ALF Reviews: “A.L.F.” (Season 1, Episode 1)

And so it begins. Welcome to my episode-by-episode revisiting of the entire series of puppet-based hijinx known as ALF. This episode actually surprised me in a lot of ways, not least because they bothered to show us ALF’s arrival and first night with the Tanner* family.

It’s not that I’m surprised because I don’t think it’s a story worth telling…I’m just surprised because the “origin story” in the first episode is a relatively recent phenomenon. There are exceptions — and this is obviously one — but going back in TV history just a decade or so will surround you with shows that don’t really have much of an ongoing story. Sitcoms in particular are designed to be hopped into and out of as you please, with zero to little knowledge of the characters required.

ALF is by no means being innovative by opening with a “here’s how they came together” episode, but it is at least in the minority for its time. I kind of like that.

Anyway, the episode opens with Willie Tanner and his wife Kate in the shed, playing with some dials that apparently do something that may or may not be the cause of a space ship crashing into the roof.

I don’t really know what Willie was meant to be doing in the first place, and I have even less of a guess as to what Kate was doing there with him. Is this some kind of advanced ham radio thing? I have no idea, but the space ship falls slowly enough — take that, gravity! — that the Tanner children come rushing into the shed in a panic to ask what’s very slowly tumbling from the sky.

There’s a crash and we get a shot of ALF unconscious against the hatch of his ship.

ALF, "A.L.F."

I found it funny, but the studio audience didn’t. I guess we were supposed to care about this, and worry about his health, but since the show is named after him and it’s followed by a credits sequence that shows him alive and well I can’t really say that it generates suspense.

Actually, here’s a question: was there a studio audience? All the puppetry and midgets in full-body suits suggests not, I guess, but who knows. Maybe they staged as much as they could for an audience. Either way, ALF’s dead and nobody cares.

ALF, "A.L.F."

We then get a credits sequence with a theme tune (no lyrics, sadly) that I remember surprisingly well. The credits involve ALF running around the house with a camera, so that he can record footage of naked Kate for later batin’.

I realize now how little I remember about these characters, even though I’ve probably seen every episode of the show. I guess they just weren’t that well-developed. I remember ALF, of course. And I remember Willie’s strained line deliveries that made it sound like every word was going to be his last before he died of a heart attack, but I don’t know anything about the daughter talking on the phone in the closet, the son who hugs ALF, or the wife with the glorious wet tatas.

Anyway the credits end with a genuinely nice effect of ALF fogging up the camera lens with his breath. I like this, because it’s an actual piece of puppetry magic. It’s not as great as Kermit riding a bike or anything, but I do like it when you see something like this as a grown up and think, “Huh. That must have taken some thought.”

I probably won’t be saying that much throughout these reviews.

ALF, "A.L.F."

The credits of a healthy ALF scrapping around the Tanner home end, and we see a cold-cocked ALF being laid out on the coffee table like a corpse. I’ve never experienced such tonal whiplash in the space of a single credits sequence before.

Everybody wonders what this creature is, even though it obviously crashed a space ship into their shed while they all watched it happen, which should pretty much establish beyond the shadow of a doubt that it’s an alien. Willie finally says “It’s an ALF,” and Kate asks him what that means.

Willie then does something that I absolutely can’t stand, though it happens all the time on television: he replies to her question by simply repeating, “An ALF.” Then he has to dance around it verbally for a bit before he reveals that it stands for Alien Life Form.

The reason I hate this isn’t because it’s not realistic…it’s because it is realistic. I hate it when people use some phrase or terminology you don’t know, and when you ask them to explain they just repeat it. I know they do it on purpose. They do it on purpose because they want to make you feel stupider while they explain something to you that you never could have known in the first place. Willie you piece of shit.

Seriously, though, I really hate that. If you’re ever in a situation in which somebody asks you to explain what you mean, actually take a second and explain it. Don’t be a dick and just repeat the same fucking thing again. Especially if there’s a concussed alien in your living room and you really should focus on that instead of making yourself erect with how superior your vocabulary is to your wife’s and kids’.

ALF, "A.L.F."

There’s a really weird moment then when ALF wakes up and we see the Tanner family through a fish-eye lens. Does that imply that this is how ALF sees everything? And if he’s opening his eyes, shouldn’t they see that? They keep discussing him like he’s dead, but he’s obviously looking at them at this point.

The fish-eye lens suggests at least a small attempt at visual artistry. Similarly, there was a nice diagonal angle on the family from above when ALF crashed earlier. It’s the sort of thing I expect we won’t see much of as the series goes in, since they would have had to crank out an episode for each week after this point, and would probably have had to rely on the standard sitcom blocking of the time. For now though, it’s a nice peek into what the ALF crew would have done had they had more time for each episode.

And what they would have done is make everyone’s face hilarious with a fish-eye lens.

alfep1g

ALF wakes up and there’s actually a pretty funny exchange. He chastises Willie because his driveway needs more light and Willie apologizes and says he knows but he hasn’t had enough time to take care of that. I’m sure you’re laughing just reading about it. (I really did like it though. Why won’t you believe me?)

It’s here that I’m a little thrown by ALF’s voice. I guess Paul Fusco — the puppeteer and creator of the character — needed a little more time to settle into the voice as we remember it. This sounds a lot deeper than I remember it being, more like a kid trying to sound like a grownup than any actual character in its own right.

Anyway the Tanner adults don’t want ALF in the house and ALF — whose ability to speak English doesn’t seem to be of all that much interest to anyone — says he’ll leave if they can fix his space ship. Then he asks if he can eat their cat, and they say no. He disappears into the kitchen, the cat runs away, and ALF says, “He’s a fast one, I’ll give him that.” The audience applauds. Of course they do.

ALF, "A.L.F."

ALF awakens the next morning spent from a long night of fucking Willie’s wife.

No, actually she sees ALF and screams, and then he screams, and then they’re screaming together, which you have to see to believe because seriously, that like never happens!

Willie comes in from the bathroom to ask his wife what sex feels like, and ALF follows Willie back in to watch him shave.

Where was Willie all night that ALF could just sleep in his bed without anyone knowing? Where did they want ALF to sleep? And wouldn’t they want to keep an eye on him? He already wants to eat their cat. What if he killed their kids?

Who am I kidding. Nobody cares.

Willie tells ALF to keep his distance while he’s in the house, and to try to act considerate. ALF immediately picks up some shaving cream and shoots it everywhere.

I’m not even sure if that was meant to look accidental. I have a feeling this exact situation is going to play out a lot as we go on. ALF is told not to do something, ALF immediately does that thing, the audience applauds.

ALF, "A.L.F."

Willie strips naked in front of the alien, because that’s a wise thing to do with a creature you’ve never seen before and in the first episode of a family sitcom.

ALF pretends not to admire Willie’s willie. Seriously, ALF sure likes looking at naked people. He and I might have some common ground after all.

Willie tells ALF not to go near the window, because their neighbor Mrs. Ochmonek is very nosy. ALF immediately runs to the window and starts making silly faces while Willie washes his legs and genitals.

ALF, "A.L.F."

It’s a stupid scene that involves Mrs. and Mr. Ochmonek being lamely rude to each other, but it at least held my attention because I couldn’t place where I’d seen Mrs. Ochmonek before. After a while I realized it’s the woman who played Jerry’s mom on Seinfeld. And then I realized I wouldn’t have anything to say about that observation, but I’d make it anyway.

ALF, "A.L.F."

Willie comes out of the shower and asks ALF for something he can dry himself off with, so ALF runs over to the toilet paper holder and unspools the entire roll. This isn’t because he’s still learning Earth customs; he’s just a dick.

In the next scene, Willie is on a ladder attempting to fix ALF’s space ship. So, wait. They left the space ship on the roof all night? They’re so worried about ALF going near the windows because their neighbor might peep, but the space ship just sits out in the open for even passing drivers to see?

ALF isn’t helping Willie, despite the fact that he’s the only entity in the house that has any experience with the machine and none of them think that might be valuable during the repair process, so he goes inside to watch Sesame Street with the boy Brian.

This I actually kind of like, too. By acknowledging the Muppets, ALF is tipping its hat toward some real-world inspiration. Elsewhere in the episode the characters reference Harry and the Hendersons, E.T., and Mork and Mindy, all of which were obvious inspirations as well. I think that’s actually pretty cool.

What’s not cool is the way ALF touches Brian:

ALF, "A.L.F."

Jesus that’s off-putting.

ALF’s bad-touching is preceded by him plying the boy with alcohol.

Not kidding. He gives Brian a beer, and Kate walks over to tell ALF that’s wrong. She doesn’t have anything to say about the overt molestation though.

Isn’t this the worst possible thing to normalize in a family sitcom? It’s terrible.

ALF pets and squeezes the boy while he begs her to let him stay, and I know it doesn’t look that bad in the screen shot, but in moition I swear to Christ it’s the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been watching television outside of The Top 50 Funniest Rapes on TruTV. ALF’s a sicko.

Anyway there’s a knock at the door, and everyone runs around panicking. It’s some guy in a military uniform who patiently stands outside while they look out the windows at him and worry loudly about what to do for around ten minutes. He doesn’t even knock again. He’s just standing there waiting to deliver his lines. How long do you think you’d stand unmoving at a door after knocking? If it’s anything less than a day and a half you’ve got this guy beat.

ALF, "A.L.F."

They finally open the door after hiding ALF by asking him to step four inches to his left. Fortunately the military guy never thinks to turn his head, and their ruse is successful.

He introduces himself as being from the Alien Task Force, so now you finally know what the ATF does all day. He says he’s received reports that the Tanners are housing an alien, and then he describes ALF’s appearance.

Isn’t it a little odd that a government agent just went to a civilian’s house and blurted out the fact that alien life existed? Earlier in the episode Willie wasn’t sure that aliens were real, but now this guy not only knows they exist but he knows what they look like.

I just find that really strange. It would sort of be like a government agent knocking on your door right now. You open it and he says there’s an escaped leprechaun in town and gives you a description, and wants to know if you’re hiding it. Wouldn’t that be the single most bizarre thing you’ve ever been through? You’d think he was mentally ill.

He asks Kate if they are harboring an alien and she says no, so he leaves. Good to know that the Alien Task Force operates on the honor system. Seriously, he never comes back. Problem raised and solved in the course of one line. Again, so much for tension.

And wait a minute…doesn’t the Alien Task Force guy see the space ship on the roof either? Why am I the only person in the world WHO CAN LOOK UP?

Anyway, the episode’s over. It might as well be. Willie took a shower and Kate answered the door; where else could this story possibly have gone?

ALF, "A.L.F."

ALF wanders into the shed and uses Willie’s ham radio to place a distress call. He tries to reach some of his old Melmac-mates, but they don’t respond. That’s fine. In fact, I like that. But then some sad music comes on and he talks about how much he misses them and how much he likes his new family and how much he totally came inside the wife last night.

It’s a little weird that ALF is bearing his soul over the radio when he already knows nobody can hear him. It would be like you placing a call to somebody, and you profess your undying love for them over the recorded message that says you dialed wrong and to hang up and try again. ALF’s speech is a lot less moving when you realize he’s just an idiot.

The Tanners stand silently behind him and listen in on his literally one-sided conversation. They’re moved by his sincerity, even though all he did so far was wreck their shed, climb into bed with Kate, throw toilet paper everywhere and grope Brian, but then he mentions wanting to eat the cat again and they make angry faces.

The end.

ALF, "A.L.F."

Well, kinda. There’s still a short scene underneath the end credits that shows ALF telling jokes at the dinner table. Everyone in the family goes ga-ga over them, except for Kate who scowls humorlessly. I get the feeling I’m supposed to see Kate as some kind of fun-hating shrew, but honestly I’m on her side. Fuck this guy.

Everyone has apparently adjusted to the fact that they live with an alien now and always will, because they start discussing the logistics of Lynn’s pajama party next week. Did I mention Lynn yet? She’s the teenage daughter. And she’s having teenaged friends over.

ALF volunteers to dress up like a woman and everybody agrees that’s fine because now he’ll be forcing himself sexually on some other people’s kids for a change, and that’s something they’d like to encourage.

So, overall, this actually wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t great, and I probably wouldn’t even call it any good, but part of me wants to acknowledge that the setup is sound: an alien moves in. That’s not ground-breaking stuff, but it’s a solid premise for comedy.

The problem is that the episode doesn’t deliver on that promise or any of its inherent possibilities. It’s only been 21 minutes or so and the writers can’t think of anything for ALF to do but make a mess, so that’s discouraging considering we still have another 98 episodes to go. The potential conflict with the government would also be great, if the ATF didn’t just take your word for it that you’re not harboring sentient creatures from outer space.

I don’t remember the government thing coming into play much, but I was a kid the last time I saw this so who knows. Maybe it becomes positively riveting.

Or maybe ALF just chases the cat around and peeps on people in the shower.

I’m not a betting man, but if I were I know where my money would lie.

MELMAC FACTS: In this episode we learn that ALF comes from Melmac, that it had a purple sun, and that it exploded. It was also made of a substance called melmac. No idea if we’ll get many more Melmac facts in the future, but just in case, here’s where I’ll put them. You know. In case you ever want to write a paper about it.

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* Yes, the Tanner family. At first I thought that Full House preceded this show, and ALF, knowingly or not, burgled the name. But no…this particular Tanner family predates Danny and his horde of imbeciles by a year. I knew this series of reviews would be educational.

Review: Bleeding Edge, by Thomas Pynchon

Bleeding Edge, Thomas PynchonThere’s never been a Pynchon novel that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the first time through. Inherent Vice, his previous book, probably came closest though. There any disappointment that I may have had was due to a high level of bafflement that remained by the novel’s conclusion. It’s my own fault for not anticipating that; Pynchon traffics in bafflement. It’s one of his favorite tools and one of the things he handles most effectively.

But Inherent Vice tricked me. It tricked me because, moreso than any of his books previously, it felt like a pretty straight-forward yarn. It was funny, it was intermittently brilliant, and it was always interesting…but it was still a story. There was a clear beginning. There was a clear middle. There was, however, a literally foggy end.

None of this was the fault of the book. If anything, it’s to his credit that such a simple novel — unquestionably his simplest up to that point — still managed to play games with its reader. And win them.

Bleeding Edge has a lot in common with Inherent Vice, right down to its detective figure at the fore and its mystery that ends up only partially solved. It’s the only time he’s released two novels in succession that were much like each other, and I think Bleeding Edge suffers for that.

This time I expected the foggy ending. This time I expected that the central mystery wouldn’t actually be the central story. This time I expected a lot, and then Bleeding Edge did exactly what I expected it to do, and that’s a little sad. Reading Pynchon has always been an exercise in — to borrow a phrase from Gravity’s Rainbow — exquisite torture. That it wasn’t here leaves me feeling a little empty.

Pynchon’s at his best when he’s behaving like a magician. He has you look over here, and invests you in whatever it is you’re seeing, and then reveals that the real action happened over there, and you missed it. The first time it’s frustrating. On your second (and third, and fourth…) passes through the books, though, it’s satisfying. You know the nature of the tricks being pulled, and you’re in a better position to admire the artistry required to perform them.

With Bleeding Edge I felt like I could see a lot more of the hand-movements. It was by no means a bad novel, but it felt to me like what I would imagine the first drafts of his better books to be. It reads like a dense, chunky outline. Notes for a future masterpiece. There’s enough connective tissue here that it qualifies as a novel, but I’m not entirely convinced that it qualifies as Pynchon.

Of course, the fact that I could write almost 500 words without mentioning any of the characters or the plot of the book says a lot about how much it got me thinking. It wasn’t just disappointment that I felt; it was a very specific kind of disappointment…the kind upon which you can meditate, and think, and consider for years. Even Pynchon’s misfires earn a lifetime of contemplation.

The story itself follows Maxine Tarnow, fraud investigator and single mom. This is the first time we’ve had a true female lead since Oedipa Maas in The Crying of Lot 49, which is a fine precedent. Pynchon’s had a few major female characters since that served as highlights of the novels in which they appeared (Prairie Wheeler and Dally Rideout spring to mind), but this is the first time since his second novel that we’ve had a squarely feminine point of view through which he filters all of the action.

Sadly, it doesn’t feel much different than having no focal character. Pynchon doesn’t manage to establish Maxine as a strong presence. In Inherent Vice Doc Sportello often seemed to blend into the background, becoming the least fascinating aspect of his own scenes, but his presence was always felt. His viewpoint always, at least, seemed like it was there. Maxine could snap her fingers and vanish from almost any given passage in Bleeding Edge and the prose wouldn’t read any differently for her absence. On its own I’m willing to admit that that’s not a problem, but the prose here really needs some spice…some flavor…some warped perspective through which he can feed it. Maxine doesn’t quite provide that.

Throughout the course of the book, she encounters the requisite cast of colorful characters, many of whom seem to tie directly into the post-dotcom-bubble success of “entreprenerd” Gabriel Ice. There are also deeper, scarier conspiracies hinted at, and her investigations lead her right up and through the September 11 terrorist attacks.

Pynchon’s readers are used to reading major historical events presented with a deliberately artificial, playfully tragic slant, but unlike The Revolutionary War, The Great War and World War II, there isn’t quite enough distance between readers today and The War on Terror. This is problematic for two reasons: firstly, Pynchon has to overwrite the specific emotional responses that those in his audience already have tied to the event…but more importantly it’s an issue because there isn’t enough distance for Pynchon to come up with much to say.

The historical documentation isn’t there. There’s propaganda and there’s heresay and there’s that terrible footage…but that’s it. There’s so little for him to work with as an author that it never really gets anywhere. It takes center stage for a few chapters (something that the wars listed previously never quite got to do), and then it’s over. That’s okay…”9/11 Changed Everything” would have been a pretty lousy moral for a writer of Pynchon’s caliber…but there’s nothing that happens in its place. It’s just something there, and then it’s just something that was there. It doesn’t take much thought to see the thematic relevance if that’s indeed what he was after, but for Pynchon to finally write a book that takes place in “modern” times, it’s disappointing to see what a disadvantage it is for him as an author.

There’s still a lot of fun to be had, though. While I gave Maxine some guff earlier, her relationship with her ex-husband Horst is probably the healthiest heterosexual relationship we’ve ever seen from this author. Their marriage may not have worked, but their relationship sure did.

Her two sons, Otis and Ziggy, make for good comic relief, and they serve effectively as the corruptible stakes for the danger unfolding all around them.

There are also brilliant scenes taking place “in” the Deep Web, which Pynchon portrays as equal parts seductive and horrifying. His presentation of the Deep Web is as deliberately artificial as anything else, but what’s important is the mood, the atmosphere, the passive but invasive horror underlying what should be a free and liberating sanctuary.

It’s also fun to see global scholar Thomas Pynchon making reference to Metal Gear Solid, Beanie Babies and Britney Spears — as well as adding an original rap song to his repertoire — but ultimately these are just parts. Components. Debris.

The unifying kernel is absent. There’s a lot to take in, but little to see.

Typically I’m disappointed at the end of a Pynchon novel because I didn’t learn what I needed to learn until it was too late to learn it. Second passes were always better. Third passes were life-changing.

At the end of Bleeding Edge, though, I was disappointed because I felt like I could see the seams. He didn’t trick me; he just left the stitching exposed.

I’ll read it again.

And I’ll like it more.

But I think it’s destined to remain toward the bottom when I rank his works. Does that matter? Probably not; but it’s not particularly pleasant to report.

It’s still worth a read, but do yourself a favor and make it through all of his others first. It’ll give you a better sense of why he’s so passionately loved by a certain type of reader. Save Bleeding Edge for when you’re on vacation from more important things. It feels like that’s when Pynchon wrote it anyway.

Housekeeping – October 12, 2013

A few pieces of business.

– Noiseless Chatter has a Facebook page! You can go like it RIGHT HERE.

There are a few reasons for this. One is the cynical one, and I’ll get it out of the way right now: social media increases the actual value of and traffic to your website. So there.

However this also solves a pretty major problem I’ve had that I never bothered saying out loud: this site has developed into a sort of storehouse for my several-thousand-word musings. And I like that. But then when I post something small, like an obit. for Kumar Pallana or something, it seems out of place.

The Facebook page will allow me to make shorter posts over there, link to interesting things I’ve found, and probably just accumulate nonsensical bon mots.

What I’m trying to say is that if you use Facebook, you may want to follow that page even if you’re in the habit of coming here. That’s where I can post things in a more timely manner, less encumbered by context.

Thinking about it, it should also make it easier for you guys to share the pieces you enjoy, so please do that. A lot. Like, every day.

ALF reviews begin Thursday! Yes, in case you missed it, I’ll be working through the whole of ALF, so you don’t have to. However, if you’d like to follow along with the reviews and maybe toss your own observations into the pot after all, the entirety of the series is up on Hulu here. I think you need a subscription to watch it, but don’t worry; I don’t get any kind of compensation whatsoever for that. I’m not that lucky.

Anyway, from the thumbnail it looks like episode two is going to be a real treat:

Oh ALF...

They have all 99 episodes, and that’s where I’ll be watching them. There was also a TV movie which was called ALF Gets Dissected or some crap, which I remember hating as a child. It’s basically the series finale, so hopefully I can get my hands on it before I’m through the run. I say “hopefully.”

So, yes, my review of episode one will post on October 17th, and a new one will follow every Thursday.

– I reviewed some books! Do you remember those old “Worlds of Power” books? They were novelizations of popular video games that were sold at book fairs and such. It was a way of tricking those damned kids into reading, and it was really was a dirty trick; the books were terrible. It’s like they cared more about tricking kids into reading then helping kids to enjoy reading.

Anyway, I’ve recently reviewed the novelization of Mega Man 2, so feel free to check that out if you haven’t yet. A few years ago I also reviewed the novelization of Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest, so read that one too. It’s Halloween-appropriate. And fuck knows I won’t be doing anything else to celebrate.

Thanks for reading, as always, and for all of your support. In summary: like, ALF, and read.

RIP Kumar Pallana

RIP Kumar Pallana

Some sad but not totally unexpected Wes Anderson news: Kumar Pallana has passed away. He was 94 years old.

In films packed with wall-to-wall memorable characters and moments, he always stuck out to me. His role as Pagoda in The Royal Tenenbaums was his largest, but it was fun enough watching him rake leaves or cackle madly as Mr. Littlejeans in Rushmore.

He appeared in a non-speaking role in The Darjeeling Limited, but did so much with his silence that Roger Ebert gave him special mention in his review of the film, even though he didn’t know the actor’s name.

And all of this pales in comparison to his role as the safe-cracker in Bottle Rocket, which was unquestionably the highlight of the entire film.

Pallana’s son Dipak also appeared in Bottle Rocket as a book store employee, and in The Royal Tenenbaums as a doctor.

His one of a kind line-readings made the most of the smallest moments. “He has the cancer.” “There he goes.” “Best play ever, man.”

I’ll miss you, Kumar. Thanks for making some of my favorite movies that much better.