twenty-something

20SUM REVIEW Damien Rice - 9 Release Date: 11/14/2006 Explicit Lyrics

This week, Damien Rice quietly (to me, at least) released a new album -- 9 -- his second full-length disc and his first studio album in almost four years.

I've been spending quality time with 9 since I scored an advanced copy last week and I have to say it's a worthy successor to his incredible debut, O, and in some cases, as a whole, I like this album better. Rice and his go-to songbird Lisa Hannigan are back for ten more lush, intense tracks and it's a powerful ride. While it may be missing a clear anthem (and O had many -- "Volcano," "The Blower's Daughter," and, especially, "Cannonball"), 9 is more consistent and I like almost all of it (whereas with O, I often find myself bored with the non-single tracks). The new release is timed perfectly, as 9 makes a perfectly atmospheric soundtrack for the cold, creeping days and the dark, long nights of November.

I found O at the tail-end of '03 ("Volcano" even got a mention in the early days of this blog) and it became one of the first albums I connected with post-college. It's deep and flawed songs of love spoke to me as I fell deeper in love with a man I shouldn't have and, despite Damien's warnings, I built my world around a volcano, a relationship I knew would never work. Almost four years later, I'm still reeling from a relationship that's been over for over a year -- I'm out of love with the man, but still dealing with the wounds and wreckage left by him as I try to negotiate new possibilities in my new life... and here comes a new Damien Rice album to speak to me again.

While that first album was largely about power dynamics in love -- the gloriously dysfunctional, unattainable, and destructive sides of lust and relationships -- this follow-up more closely focuses in on deception, insecurities, and infidelity (starting with the semi-titular track, "9 Crimes") with a bit more experience and maturity. Damien's had more experience with all of this since 2003 -- and so have I. RIce is damaged and dark -- it's part of his appeal -- and with 9 he's perhaps a bit more on the edge and, at times, over it. That's perhaps why, as a whole, I prefer this new disc to his first -- he's aged, grown, evolved. And I like to think I've done so, too. He's pissed and flawed, but he's still hopeful... because, to spite our scars from love's battles, we have to hold onto hope.

9 by Damien Rice is 20sum Approved. It's a damn good album and you should get it immediately. Hell, it's so good you should buy it, not steal it -- it's that worthy of your hard-earned cash. (Continue on for my track-by-track favorites.)

I loved it. Really well done and engrossing. Natalie Portman, despite her bad accent, is great. Hugo Weaving does a superb job as V, making a somewhat ridiculous character (on celluloid, anyway) into something that works. And the message is there, heavy-handed but white-hot. Overall, it's just a solid film that delivered beyond my high expectations. Not an Oscar contender, but a really stunning ride.

Go see it this weekend. This movie deserves to be huge!

My favorite monkey, to be exact. Curious George.

Caught a showing last night with my housemate. While largely imperfect, the new animated film version of literature's most mischievous primate (and my favorite) was a lot of fun. I found myself smiling -- widely -- for much of the movie, quite amused by the titular character and his shenanigans. George is completely adorable and irresistible in this version, pitch perfect. I could watch the opening sequence -- which features Jack Johnson's "Upside Down" -- and then closing credits -- an extremely well-done collection of Classic George images -- over and over again. The stuff in the middle? Eh.

It's a kids movie, and that's a good thing. There isn't a lot of "over the kids' heads" humor, a la Shrek, and thus the film doesn't feel as forced as other, more recent animated fare. It's not a Pixar classic by any means, but George never feels like it's try too hard like most of the sludge that Dreamworks et al. are spewing out. It reminded me a lot of the movies I watched growing up -- and the stuff I saw my brother and sister watching when they were growing up ten years later -- a sort of classic cartoon innocence in the plots and characters. There appears to be no moral to the story, though -- and if there is, it's to be curious and adventurous, to gain experience. That's a great message for children (and adults), but there's a lot the movie doesn't say about responsibility and consequences. But I digress...

Was I bored at times? Yeah. Was the plot silly and predictable? Yeah. But it's a kid's movie. There's no Mike Myers doing that horrible Scottish thing, making thinly veiled sexual jokes, and that's a check in my book.

Speaking of overrated comedians I once loved -- I'm over Will Farrell. Totally. He's not horrible here as the Man in the Yellow Hat (now known as Ted), as his "Farrell-ness" is mostly kept in check, but there are times you just want him to shut up. Many times. Ditto for Eugene Levy. Both his character and his voice work are too much, even for a kid's film. Damn it, man, get your career back on track! Drew Barrymore is cute, even if she negates the Man in the Yellow Hat's iconic bachelor status. And Jack Johnson's music -- even though they only use three or four songs from the album -- is spot on.

Overall, George -- both the monkey and the movie -- is charming. To smile throughout? I think that's the highlight of my week.

Yesterday, when I got home from work, I was gripped with the sudden and immediate desire to finally watch Before Sunset, which I picked up on DVD used a month or two ago at Blockbuster. So I did. Now I'm not a big Ethan Hawke fan, but 1995's Before Sunrise -- which spawned this 2004 sequel -- is one of my favorite films. Top Five, perhaps. A few years back, I was excited to hear that auteur Richard Linklater was making a follow-up to such a great flick, but for some reason I avoided it when it was in theaters. I avoided it when it came out on DVD, too. I avoided it even after owning the damn thing for over a month. Despite hearing overwhelmingly good buzz about Sunset, I couldn't bring myself to watch it. I was afraid that revisiting the whole affair might just ruin it.

Was I right? Fifteen or so hours after the end credits began to roll, I'm still haunted by the film. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Overall, it affected me, perhaps more than the first one. I found myself both enthralled and disgusted, pleased and disappointed, by the whole thing, and afterwards, I spiralled into a small sort of funk that I now teeter back on the edge of, even as I type. I loved this film. I hated this film. I was shaken by this film.

I am a romantic. Try as I might not to be, I am. That's why the original is one of my favorite films. I am one of those melodramatic fools, neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it... And the follow-up was just as sweet and passionate as the first. Seeing Before Sunrise in high school, back in 1996, was important. It was one of those rare formative films, one that actually, truly shaped the kind of lover I would become, the kind of love I longed for. So much so that everytime I am on a bus or train, I fantasize about what might be. Every single time.

There are moments I love, and there are moments when I love the whole damn movie. The chemistry between Hawke (Jesse) and Julie Delpy (Celine) is still there. It's palpaple. When they are sitting on the bench at the film's midpoint, gazing at each other, my heart ached for them to touch, to kiss, to be together. In the car, as Celine reaches out to Jesse, and they almost connect... it's electric. It's maddening. When Delpy dances at the end, I want so badly to be heterosexual, to be Jesse, to have her. But, ultimately, watching two thirty-somethings carry on this way, after nine years apart, fills me with a great sadness. Why, when the film ends on such an ambigious, but hopeful, note? Because I don't want that to be my sad, silly, romantic future. Will I, in my thirties, still be chasing the same romantic ideals as I do now? Will I be past all the dramatics yet, happy, settled, in love? Or will I be unfullfilled, chasing after one foolish notion or another? There lies the film's flaw -- nine years later, I don't want to relate to these two. And yet I still did. This, ultimately, is why Before Sunset shook me.

Nothing about Spanglish -- not the film itself, not the experience of seeing it -- sucked outright. But still...

Things with Duncan simmered down about half-way through our dinner at Quizno's, but until then, we hardly spoke to each other. Just enough for him to say, "The road's are bad," and me to reply, "We don't have to go then." But we still went and, as is part of the joy of living in Vermont, we nearly risked our lives on the snowy highway to drive to the theater. We were civil but short with each other until I discreetly pointed out a hot guy at another table. He was part of a foursome of sexy skiers, all college-aged, all still in some kind of ski gear -- but mine was the best. He had a nice, bright blue sweatshirt on. Lots of facial scruff. Some nice blue eyes. He was the shortest of the bunch, too. After I pointed him out to Dunc, the lines of communication seemed to be reopened, and we were back to normal.

So, yes, did I like the movie? I didn't dislike it, but I didn't love it. I hadn't read many glowing reviews, but one of my students told me it was the best film he'd seen all year. I'd assumed he meant 2004 but, in hindsight, maybe he meant '05. It would be my favorite film of the year, then, by default, as it's the only one I've seen thus far this year.

The acting is great. The story is good. There's some good, important (albeit very white-washed) stuff in there about culture, class, and race. It makes you laugh (rather, the trailers make you laugh, as practically all of the funny parts are spoiled in the ads) and, maybe, it makes you a little misty. But it lacks something. Oofmph. Za za zu. Nothing in Spanglish hit me, nothing that said, "Love me!" And so I remain lukewarm.

But there is a good message, somewhere in there, about communication. And about space. That was especially timely with my relationship that day.

So after the movie, we're in the car, waiting for it to warm up. He's just scrapped the windows. I turn to him.

I tell him, finally: "Don't ever walk out on me again."

"OK," he says. He's not giving me much. No eye-roll. No regret. He just complies.

"It's OK to walk away. To need a little space. To get away from me sometimes. But just say that. Don't ever just leave."

"OK." He's looking at me, and I can't read him. "Are we good?"

"We're good."

He puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking spot. As he goes to put it into first, I turn back to him.

"Kiss me."

He hesitates for one moment, and then he does. A tiny peck.

"Now drive away. I think some rednecks in that car saw us."