Who's Afraid?

I was trying to figure out why I love two of the most vicious movies every written: Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and Boys in the Band. What I've come to understand after watching the movies dozens of times is that they are about people who are evenly matched. What I mean is that George and Martha are equals. At first you think George is put upon and Martha is in control verbally beating George to a pulp, but by the end George comes roaring back and the evening ends in a draw. Edward Albee's writing is spectacularly vivid. You could argue that Nick and Honey aren't at their level so are victims of their bullying attacks, but you get the idea that Honey and Nick's marriage is built on the kind of shaky ground that could turn them into George and Martha. All four actors were nominated for academy awards but only Elizabeth Taylor walked away with the statue. She and Burton are radiant as they verbally parry and thrust their way to dawn.
The same is true for Boys in the Band. You feel that you've entered a conversation that is so advanced and quick that you'll never catch up. It's a tough world with mean, self-hating gay men in the 1960s. Written by Mart Crowley the film centers around a group of gay friends but, in the end, boils down to just two: birthday boy Harold and party giver Michael. One accepts that he is gay and the other does not. It's not the self hatred I find riveting, it's how everyone is struggling to find their way. They verbally circle each other, stab, duck, hit and miss.

The other thing I love about both the films is that I always ask the same question at the end of the films. Is there a son in Woolf and is the ex-roomate really gay in the case of Boys. That's how strong an impression they leave after every viewing. I know there's no son and the ex-roomate isn't gay, but I still question because the film does.

Both films were based on hit plays from the 1970s. There's just not that much at stake anymore in films pumped up on visual steroids. We've plumbed the psyche and have turned to external forms of terror like serial killers, the fetish of mental illness, 24-hour crime and terrorism.

But a well-matched psychological bludgeoning on screen can teach us something about how people that love us are capable of real bloodless destruction.

Feet don’t fail me now.

Elvis Mitchell’s interview with Jason Schwartzman on "The Treatment" is worth a listen. Elvis doesn’t know what to make of Jason so he just lets him ramble. The gems out of Schwartzman’s mouth include how he feels about showing up for work: “feet don’t fail me know” and describing why his character, Jonathan Ames, becomes a Craig’s List private dick as “a deliberator moment.” Priceless.


"Bored to Death" is one of the best new comedies on TV.

Bored to Death

Laugh-out-loud funny, Bored to Death is the sharpest show since, well, another HBO show Flight of the Conchords that I can't get straight so call it Flight of the Condors but that's probably part of the joke. Back to Bored to Death. I was reading creator Jonathan Ames' blog-letter on HBO's site and it's also, not surprisingly, hilarious. There's a certain neurotic Woody Allen humor that Americans (at least coasties) are attuned to. Every thought is twisted into grotesque proportions that turns a scene between our loser hero Jonathan (Jason Schwartzman) and the superhero cartoonist Ray (Zach Galifianakis) where they make cultural references in a coffee bar into a scene about how neither gets the others reference. And doesn't everyone hear a reference and think they get the meaning but do they really? Are they hip enough to get it or do they pretend to know what the hell was just said. Ted Danson hits all the right notes as George Christopher, a publishing mogul so rich that he has two first names. George is a privileged baby and, like most uber-rich people, he pays his friends and is a bottomless pit of need and hubris. If you haven't seen it, do.