johnnyhongkong says…

I’ve been working on a few projects lately so I’m sorry that I’ve sort of been like an errant father, dropping in and out of your life.  It’s going to be like this for a while – wedding planning, new projects, etc. – so you can hate me when you grow up, just don’t make me pay for your therapy.

In the meantime, Esquire has published their list of 75 essential life skills for men.

I have about half of the skills dialed in (most of the indoor skills) and want to be able to do most of the other half (mostly rugged outdoor skills), such as jump a car without drama (35) or find the way out of the woods if lost (68).

However, glaring in its absence is the skill to properly lead a lady in a ballroom dance.    

Know your dance.  Whether it be the waltz, tango, foxtrot, salsa – whatever – pick one, learn it and know it like you know your way home. 

Now comes the hard part – leading the lady.  It requires you to move confidently so that you can move the lady gracefully.  This is done by silently communicating her movements (your intentions) to her with your right hand on the small of her back.  The subtle nuances in this communication will differ from dance to dance and knowing them is part of knowing the dance. 

It’s a lot to keep together, especially if you’re not a natural dancer.  It is made even more difficult if you’re not naturally assertive.  Nobody ever said it was easy to be a man. 

The important thing to remember is that the lady’s job in a dance is to look good and have fun.  Your job is to make her look good and to do that, you must give her a solid, confident lead so that she knows what she is doing and can look good while doing it.

Oh, and don’t forget to turn the lady at the end of dance. 

A few weeks ago, my rockstar friend Sydney, and her legendary ukele band The Hazzards (formerly, The Ukes of Hazzard before a nasty cease and desist order) were in town for a shoot.

We met for cocktails at the Avalon Hotel where we drank mojitos and caught up (the star of “Gay Boyfriend,” The Hazzards first hit single, fabulously dished about a member of my old stable of actors who now rolls like the Godfather).

But that’s beside the point. The Hazzards were in town to shoot some music videos for The Rad Girls, the “breakout hit on Fuse TV.” For those who don’t know, The Rad Girls are three girls who do stunts like putting Tobasco in their eye, farting in people’s faces, and body surfing down flights of stairs.

If this sounds familiar, it is. It’s Jackass as produced by Joe Francis. (the real producer wants to make a Jackass with black dudes and call it Blackass).

Apparently being a breakout hit on Fuse means that you’re still not doing well. So The Hazzards were called to Hellay to add their unique flava and immense charm to the show.

And finally after weeks of the same Rad Girls episodes piling up on the TiVo, the first of the Hazzards episodes aired last night. They sing a song called “Rad Girls vs. Models,” which frames a competition between the Rad Girls and Models. This isn’t rocket science.

Dramatically, the Hazards sort of serve as the Rad Girls Greek chorus. They give the girls purpose. After the Hazards spot, the rest of the show is unwatchable (The Hair Dryer Duel is charming).

Really, the problem with Rad Girls is that is lacks the joie de vivre, bonhomie and espirit de corps of the Jackass boys and without those qualities, they need something like a Greek Chorus to give the show some shape and focus. And the stunts go on too long.

You can check out the Hazards on Rad Girls on Fuse TV. The show seems to be on all the time. If you don’t see a music video in the first five minutes, come back next time.

And if you’re in New York, go check them out. They play weekly shows in and around the NY Metro area. Here’s the video for “Gay Boyfriend,” The Hazzards Top 70’s hit in the UK:

Pilot Weight Loss Update: A night in the steam room riding the airdyne and the Pilot is down to 66 pages. He’s tired and hungry.

Oh wait, that’s me.

We saw Children of Men this past weekend.  It’s about a future in which the world has lost the global war on terror, humans have lost the ability to reproduce, and the new pharamcological solution to the thing that ails us is no longer Viagra, but a suicide pill.

It’s real uplifting stuff.

I’m serious.

Alfonso Cuaron is devastatingly successful at creating a dismal (and possible) vision of the future (or of the present in some places like Detroit or Iraq) and yet in this world full of death and desperation, Cuaron is also able to capture some of the most honest moments of hope and beauty that I’ve ever seen on film.  Like when Japser (Michael Caine) taps a car window to say goodbye to one of the main characters, his eyes and his smile, full of hope.  It just ruined me.  In the hands of a lesser filmmaker, it would have been manipulative.

And speaking of filmmaking, it is chock-full-o-nuts and by “nuts,” I mean wicked, bold, badass, go for broke, ten-ton filmmaking. Everybody’s talking about the two, long, single take sequences and they are great but the daring escape from the Fish compound, with nothing but the sound of wheels slowly rolling on grass, is nothing to shake a stick at (and if you don’t know Richard Beggs, the sound designer, you better ask someone).

And on another film nerd note, I wonder what it was like for cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki to go from working with Terrence Malick, who is famously unfocused, on The New World, back to working with someone as focused as Cuaron has shown himself to be with Children of Men. Wandering minds don’t pull off sequences like the ones in his film.

According to the IMDB, Malick and Lubezki created a standard operating procedure for the photography of the The New World:

1. No artificial lights. All is shot in natural light.
2. No crane or dolly shots, just handheld or Steadicam shots.
3. Everything is shot in the subjective view.
4. All shots must be ‘deep-focus shots’, that is everything (foreground and background) is visible and focused.
5. You (the camera crew) are encouraged to go and shoot unexpected things that might happen in accident or if your instinct tells you so.
6. Selective shots: any shot that does not have visual strength is not used.

I’m wagering that “bacon taped on a wall” fell within directive number 5…

Anyway before I totally fly off on a New World tangent, go check out Children of Men. It’s an important cautionary tale, it’s uplifting, and that Clive Owen is dreamy.

1. People whom you would never expect it from, try to make Thanksgiving nice for themselves and their friends and family.

• About a decade ago, I didn’t know how to cook. When my friends and I wanted to eat a Thanksgiving dinner on the 3rd Thursday of November in Poughkeepsie that year, I figured out how to roast a chicken, make stuffing, gravy, and mash potatoes. I credit that night as the night I learned how to cook. It’s that or the other explaination which is I just woke up one day and knew how to.

• That punk rock guy. He stood behind me one line at Ralph’s on Thursday and he had pink, spikey hair, torn shorts, and a chain connected to his wallet. He bought a roast chicken, two steak knives, a pumpkin pie, and a can of whipped cream.

2. It’s a holiday that’s all about hospitality. It’s sort of like the Olive Garden: it doesn’t matter who you are, when you’re at someone’s for Thanksgiving, you’re family.

3. The movies. This year we saw Deja Vu. Along with The Hunger and Crimson Tide, it’s one of Tony Scott’s (and Jerry Bruckheimer’s) most restrained works. But for what it lacks in the Expressionist visual stylings a la Domino (a film where narrative is deconstructed to color, swish pans, and edits and that I believe is the first ever mainstream art installation), Deja Vu makes up for in ka-razy. It’s definitely worth checking out. If you plan to, I suggest not reading anything about the movie.

In the event you ever forget about the Cold War in the 80’s and how it ended, just watch Sylvester Stallone’s magnificent Cold War opus Rocky IV.

I don’t know what they’re teaching in high school social studies these days but if they’re spewing some garbage about Ronald Regan and Mikhail Gobachev to bringing an end of the Cold War, I’m here to set these bitch ass school districts straight.

I saw Rocky IV in a movie theater when it came out in 1985. I was but a wee Johnny Hong Kong and the two clearest memories are of my friend and I walking down railroad tracks to get to the theater (it was like Stand by Me but since we were in San Francisco, the tracks were for the West Portal MUNI train) and how virulent the hatred was for Ivan Drago, Rocky’s big, Russian opponent.

People booed and hissed and threw popcorn whenever he was on screen or had the upperhand in the match. It wasn’t like seeing a normal movie bad guy. It was as if the entire Russian nation was embodied by Dolph Lundgren, a big Swede who might have actually had more brains than braun and acting talent combined (he was Fulbright scholar at MIT for chemical engineering, can you dig it?). I had never seen anything like it before or since.

You certainly don’t need me to explicate the “cinematic text” because as I found out when I saw it again over the weekend, if you’ve seen the movie once, you know them all. Not only is the imagery, text, and music all working together to suffuse the movie with meaning, it’s also about as subtle as a sledgehammer. But just in case, here’s the quick and dirrrty:

Drago (Russians) kills Apollo Creed (Founding father of America and America itself). Rocky (the American dream) must go to Russia and seek vengeance in a boxing match.

Like I said, as subtle as a sledgehammer.

What I’m more interested in is the ending where Rocky gives his “If I can change” speech to the Russian people (the Russians), the multi-national press (the UN), and the politbureau (the politbureau).

Sure, it’s awkward and not the most eloquent call to end the cold war, but hey, Rock just took the beating of his life, going toe to toe with the Siberian Express. I’d like to see you do the same and be able to string together any words. Just because it’s not the most elegant delivery or collection of words does not make it – in the context of the movie – any less rousing. His little speech causes the entire arena to burst into cheers and applause. Even the entire politbureau stands up to applaud.

Fanciful Hollywood ending? Yeah, sure – at the time. The crowd at the Empire 3 in West Portal cheered in 1985, even when they saw Drago standing at the end of the match, having been beaten, but also having gotten back up, as if to show the strength of the nation (those Russians are a tough people).

So I’m thinking Reagan and Gorbachev see themselves some Rocky IV at the White House and Kremlin and by the end thinking, “If Rocky can change, then we all can change! It’s Miller Time.”

Of course my theory falls apart if the endgame of the Cold War began BEFORE Rocky IV was released.

It wasn’t. Rocky IV predates the following milestones to the end of the Cold War:

• Glasnost
• Perestroika
• Reagan’s famous “Remarks at Brandenberg Gate“
• Which will lead to the fall of the Berlin Wall

So which is it? Fanciful Hollywood ending or having the pulse of two nations?
And just three years later in 1988, Stallone comes out with Rambo III which is dramatizes America arming and training Afghan Mujahadeen fighters in their struggle against the Russians. At the time it was only known for being the most violent and expensive film ever made. Rambo III becomes poignant 11 years later when one of the Mujahadeen fighters who we armed, trained and fought with in real life, through the Afghan/Russia stuggle declares war against America.

In three years of filmmaking, Sly Stallone begins the domino effect leading to the end of the Cold War and foretells of the political entanglements that will lead to the War on Terror, the next great threat to the safety of people around the world.

Who knew that Sly Stallone was such an astute Cold War observer. He’s not just some meatball from Philly who made it big, he’s actually an Academy Award nominated actor and screenwriter with a thing or two to say.

And with Rocky VI coming out and Rambo IV in the works (with pirates!), you bitches better recognize!

NB: So just before hitting the publish button, I cruised over to wikipedia to see what the community had to say about Rocky IV and two things of interest: Sly Stallone actually got an award from President Reagan that year so that proves that the Gipper saw the movie and here’s a fun little write up about the movie.

Word.

We went to see The Departed tonight in Westwood at the Mann Village. After two failures at securing the long elusive Oscar with Gangs of New York and The Aviator which belong in the genre of “bloated movies that are made to win awards,” The Departed is a nice return to form for Martin Scorsese who has made this movie with the same furious, energetic abandon that engendered all of his greats. It’s an out of control roller coaster and it’s one hell of a ride. It’s kinetic and propulsive like no other film I’ve seen.

Like he is in his best work, Scorsese is running around with a tightly packed stick of cinematic dynamite.

But this is not the point of this post. The point of this post is the woman sitting behind Mary Milan and me at the Mann Village in Westwood and her date.

This woman just couldn’t shut the fuck up to save her life. “OH, NO!” “WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN, NEXT?” “WHAT’S HE GOING TO DO?’ “OH MY GOD, NO!” “AHHHH!” “DAMN!” *GASP* “THEY’RE ON TO HIM!”

A few times in the film, Mary Milan made the universal handsign for “bitch ass loud mouth” by forming a Pac-Man – or in this case, Miss Pac Man – with her hands holding it up just above my eye level so they could see our displeasure.

It didn’t help because whatever filter that makes everybody else able to watch a movie in silence was defective in this woman. It was like she had movie induced Tourettes where she would blurt out whatever emotion the movie made her feel.

Her date was pretty quiet except for some derisive laughter at a key moment followed by a snide remark about Jack Nicholson’s acting prowess (plot point – alert, this comes to bear later).

As the credits rolled, the woman blurted out, “WOW! THIS WAS…THIS WAS GREAT! THIS WAS…WOW. A GREAT MOVIE. THAT WAS FABULOUS.”

As we got to the side exit, the woman had stopped and was blocking our egress. She was looking outside to the rest of her party and was pointing back into the lobby, as if she had to go to the bathroom. It struck me as we stood behind her that she should just blurt out, “I HAVE TO PEE!” instead of coyly pointing to the lobby and because she is obviously oblivious to those around her, nearly into Mary Milan’s shoulder.

Mary Milan, already annoyed with this woman, bats her hand down and says, “Excuse me” and we walk past her and into the alley where we see her gentleman companion:
Keanu Reeves.

That’s right. Not only is Keanu Reeves dismissive of Jack Nicholson’s acting, he also brings loudmouths to the cinema.

Now of course, had I known it was Keanu, I would have listened more closely for his bon mot about Nicholson’s acting choices.

So in lieu of that, I humbly present Mary Milan’s bon mot about Nicholson’s acting. Referring to Dana Stevens review in Slate, Mary Milan said, “So what if Jack Nicholson didn’t play it right, it was damn fun to watch.”

Mary Milan, goody-two-shoes yoga student, ratted me out to everybody on Sunday.  What she didn’t tell her little shava-asana pose doing, yoga pants wearing, vegan friends is that she watches football on Sundays too sometimes.  She just chose to go to yoga (crazy, I know, but she’s her own woman).

In fact, little do they know that she is a part time contributor to the Hot Chicks, Hot Picks football blog, where hot chicks write about football. 

Mary Milan is the one who writes about the Packers of course, and Emmitt Smith’s run on “Dancing with the Stars.” 

They got some good content over there, including a winning first week of picks.  This is probably my favorite post.  The girls skewer the cult of the male athlete and also Jake Plummer as a hybrid of the worst parts of Peyton Manning and Brett Favre:

And then I would run around causing all sorts of trouble. I’d kick in headlights, poop in people’s coffee, headbutt chihuahuas, break into peoples homes just to prove that I could and get off with a slap on the wrist because I’m a cute girl playing in the NFL. I’d be living the dream. But that’s just what I’d do…

Anyway, back to the Broncos. They say Super Bowl bound possibly. I say Jake Plummer will self-destruct in the playoffs. Plummer is sort of what you get when you mix the bad parts of Brett Favre and the the bad parts of Peyton Manning. Since they are both Future Hall of Famers, their bad parts combine to get you a pretty good quarterback who throws ill advised passes and chokes. 

Pay them a visit, especially if you need some insight on where to put your cash if you’re that kind of guy/gal.  They’re 9-7 with their picks after one week. 

And they’re also looking for contributors - so if you’re a girl and you love football and want to blog about it, drop them a line.