Woody Allen talks about the Academy Awards

"There are two things that bother me about them. They're political and bought and negotiated for, and the whole concept of awards is silly. I cannot abide by the judgment of other people, because if you accept them when they say you deserve an award, then you have to accept them when they say you don't. It's The Green Hills of Africa, that's what it is. You put yourself in their hands as you're judged, and you're flattered, and the next year they say, 'No, you don't get it, Steve McQueen gets it' - and you know you were fantastic. The whole thing goes against everything you've worked for in your life. Also, there's no provision made for comedy and never has been. Consequently, artists like Groucho Marx and Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton never win Academy Awards. But it's not fair. Of course, if you're judging Groucho Marx against Death of a Salesman or Streetcar Named Desire, it's wrong. These guys are spectacular artists and they always get kind of stepson Oscars that are voted out of largesse, and that's not right. It bothers me. I wish it was different. I think it would be wonderful if the Academy Awards were truly a spectacular occasion and the awards meant something and glamorous people did them and it was really a step-out night."

(Woody Allen has been nominated for an Academy Award 14 times in the Best Screenplay category - more than any other person. He's won three Oscars - two for writing, one for directing - and has been nominated a total of 21 times. He's never attended the Oscars).

"Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie" by Bob Dylan

When your head gets twisted and your mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When you're laggin' behind and losin' your pace
In the slow-motion crawl or life's busy race
No matter whatcha doin' if you start givin' up
If the wine don't come to the top of your cup
If the wind got you sideways with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slippin' and the feelin' is gone
And your train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but you're lazy to fetch it
And your sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you know that it's wrong
And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from your pony are slippin'
And your rope is a-slidin' 'cause your hands are a-drippin'
And your sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And your sky cries water and your drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashin' and the thunder's a-crashin'
The windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops are shakin'
And your whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'
And your minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
And to yourself you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they tell me the day I was born?"

And you start gettin' chills and you're jumpin' from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And you're knee-deep in dark water with your hands in the air
And the whole world's watchin' with a window peek stare
And your good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flyin'
And your heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
And your jackhammer falls from your hands to your feet
But you need it badly and it lays on the street
And your bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think your ears mighta been hurt
Or your eyes have turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterday's rush
When you were faked out and fooled while facin' a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' three queens
It's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
Like in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball machine

And there's something on your mind that you wanna be sayin'
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on your tongue, sealed in your head
And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just can't say it
And you're scared to your soul you just might forget it
And your eyes get swimmy from the tears in your head
And your pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and you're starin' at his teeth
And his jaws start closin' with you underneath
And you're flat on your belly with your hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign
You say to yourself, "Just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm hangin'
On this pathway I'm strollin', this space I'm taking
And this air I'm inhaling?
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I running
What am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailing
On this mandolin I'm strumming, in the song I'm singing,
In the tune I'm humming, in the words that I'm thinking
In the words I'm writing
In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinking
Who am I helping, what am I breaking
What am I giving, what am I taking?"

But you try with your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make your heart pound
But then again you know when they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
'Cause sometimes you hear 'em when the night time come creeping
And you fear they might catch you sleeping
And you jump from your bed, from the last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the best of your thinkin'
If that was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that's somethin' special you're needin'
And you know there's no drug that'll do for the healing
And no liquor in the land to stop your brain from bleeding

You need somethin' special
You need somethin' special, all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a steam engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows your troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't laugh at your looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rolling long after the bubblegum craze

You need something to open up a new door
To show you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more
You need something to open your eyes
You need something to make it known
That it's you and no one else that owns
That spot that you're standing, that space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how many times you might get kicked

You need something special, all right
You need something special to give you hope
But hope's just a word
That maybe you said, maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve
But that's what you need man, and you need it bad
And your trouble is you know it too good
'Cause you look and you start gettin' the chills
'Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
And it ain't on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dim-lit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Rantin' and ravin' and takin' your money
And you think it's funny
No, you can't find it neither in no night club, no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell
No matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on your ticket stub
No, it ain't in the rumors people are tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in a cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hairdo or cotton candy clothes
Ain't in the dime store dummies and bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knocking and tapping in Christmas wrapping
Saying, "Ain't I pretty and ain't I cute, look at my skin,
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow,
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry",
When you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No, you'll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made of paper maché
And inside of the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn you in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind your back, my friend,
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all the rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're fooling you
The ones that jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down your hat
Saying, "Christ, do I gotta be like that?
Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty, that stuff ain't real"

No, but that ain't your game, it ain't your race
You can't hear your name, you can't see your face
You gotta look some other place
And where do you look for this hope that you're seekin'
Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you go to Brooklyn State Hospital
You find God in the church of your choice
You find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

And though it's only my opinion
I may be right or wrong
You'll find them both
In Grand Canyon
At sundown

United 93
(5 stars out of five)
This film had its world premiere at the 2006 Tribeca Film Festival. The story of that first showing goes like this:
United 93 was the first film to deal directly with the events of 9/11, and many people were understandably concerned with how the events would be portrayed. The film premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in Manhattan on April 25, 2006. After the film ended, the audience sat in complete, stunned silence for the entirety (8+ minutes) of the credits, while many people also wept and sobbed openly during this time. After the last credit rolled and the screen was black, the entire auditorium erupted into thunderous applause.
This is a brave, selfless, and amazing film. I've never "called it" this early before, but this is - in my mind - already the Best Picture of the year. It will take something really, really good to top this one.
I've honestly never seen an audience become so emotionally affected while watching a film. A woman in front and to the left of me was visibly shaking during the end sequence. A man in the aisle across from me started gagging and almost vomiting during one of the more emotionally-disturbing sequences. The theater sat in stunned silence at the end. You could literally hear a pin drop. And the most amazing thing for me - as an avid movie-goer - was that, at the end of the film, everyone in the theater (which was quite packed for a weekday night) sat in their seats through the entire end credits. No one left. In all the years and all the hundreds of times I've sat in a theater, I've never seen that.
Like I said before, this is an incredibly brave film. The reason for this is not because of what writer/director Paul Greengrass (Bloody Sunday) decided to include in the film, but rather because of what he chose to leave out. Greengrass shows almost nothing of the people in the film before the fatal events. No backstory. No character traits. We are introduced to the characters as they board the plane. It's a bold move, and one that you'd think would distance you from the people, but it actually serves to make the story more universal, and more human. Just as an incident of movie violence is usually more affecting when it's not shown onscreen and you're left to imagine it for yourself, the passengers' emotional calls home during the final moments are much more powerful, as you never see or hear the people on the other side of the telephone line. Greengrass has made a decision to simply depict the events as they happened, nothing more, nothing less, and that simplicity translates into devastating emotional effect.
The movie has tried to be as technically accurate as possible, to a maddeningly wonderful degree. Greengrass shoots the entire movie with handheld cameras and minimal lighting, to create a "documentary" feel. The actors are unrecognizable, unknown actors, and even some real air traffic controllers and other people who were involved in the events of that day appear as themselves. Effort was made to cast actors that resembled their real-life counterparts as much as possible, and research was made to learn as much as possible about the personality and characteristics of each and every person involved. More research and interviews were conducted, in fact, to learn exactly what clothing every person wore on that day (or, if that was not possible, what kind of clothing that person usually wore) and the costumes are recreated here. The detail and care that went into this film really shines through.
It's a hard film to watch, but it's an important one. It's easily the first great film of 2006, and the best film of the year so far.

Syriana - The scenes shot at White Marsh

Hey mom, I thought you'd get a kick out of this... These are the scenes in the movie Syriana that I was telling you about - they were shot at White Marsh in Baltimore, MD:

Here, George Clooney's character drives on the highway in Maryland. It's a little hard to make out in this picture (although it is actually really clear on a big theater screen) but if you look closely at the sign above, you will see that the sign says:

Route 147 - Harford Rd

Route 43 - White Marsh Blvd

Route 1 - Belair Rd

So in this scene, Clooney was driving on I-695 South, because if you look at the sign on the right, he's just passing the exit for Route 41 - Perring Parkway.

Then, the camera pans to the driver's seat, showing that Clooney is, in fact, driving the car. (Isn't it funny how nobody noticed him when they were filming?)



This scene has Clooney talking to William Hurt's character in a parking lot. The parking lot is actually the White Marsh Mall parking lot. Look over Hurt's shoulder - you'll see the Macy's store.



In between the two of them in this shot is a big building in the distance. I don't know if you can recognize it, but it's actually that huge hotel that you drive by when you come into White Marsh. You remember seeing that?



And of course, as they walk across the parking lot, you can see the Ikea building across the street!



During the scene, they both end up changing sides and facing the opposite direction. Here, you can see Ikea again between the two guys.



And finally, you can see the Macy's store again in the background, right next to Hurt's head on the right side of the picture. To try to give you an idea of where things are in this scene, the mall has been directly behind them for the entire scene, and in this shot, the mall is directly to the left of where Clooney is standing.