Brandon and I watched a borrowed library disc of Logan’s Run wide screen version last night. It was a first for him and a distant memory for myself. I have faint glimpses of Michael York and a pretty girl escaping a utopian underworld to the ruins of Washington DC, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember the ending. Parts of the 70’s are a sleepy cannabis induced fog, reviewing the film brought the same gleeful buzz without the red-eyed stupor. That and a joy bubble from a perfect example of the correct way to typeset Lublin’s Avant Garde Light (opening titles –yum!).
Whereas Star Wars dominated and upstaged all that was post-apocalyptic sci-fi in the 70’s, this movie has a cool, mod, sexy and visually fascinating aura that despite its pastel shopping mall death ritual and arcane special effects, makes me want to read the book. Added to the wishlist:
“They could do a really awesome remake of this” so said my son. I agreed. Then spouted off my low budget version of the life of Peter Ustinov’s character (the old man) as an intensely lonely boy, then man drawing pictures of cats, immersed in books that didn’t make sense, and plagued by night dreams of people wanting to touch his face. It could be done with four actors, an abandoned building or two and blurred clips from the old movie. Probably for around 100k or less if I was a truly connected Hollywood creative.
Brandon’s version has a budget and the destruction of the dome isn’t brought about by a simple computer error. (The idea of abort, retry or fail wasn’t vogue in the 70’s –when a computer cant answer a question everything explodes!) Further brainstorming developed into the sanctuary-runner people becoming more of an organized underground resistance and much better robots. We both agreed to give Moebius a call for visuals.
This morning’s research via IMBD dashed our yet to be written screenplays to the rocks, the sequel is already in production for this year and I’m guessing to be released around Christmastime. Dang!
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Idiot/Maniac
Ever hear the saying: “Everyone going slower than you is an idiot, and everyone passing you is a maniac”? It a bit of amateur cultural anthropological wisdom I picked up somewhere and it's just stinky with truth.
Fri-Sat first real snow-winter precipitation of the season, winter storm advisory changed to warning. Much to the dismay of my snowboarding son it wasn’t the nice fluffy powder but a mix of rain, pre-formed slush and wet snow. Freezing conditions brought road travel to a minimum, it was snotty, yet necessity forced me out into it a few times -no big deal.
A little background: I consider myself an experienced driver, when it comes to low traction situations I have a generous portion of confidence. Thinking back, being a northeastern native son spanked by the snow belt has grown me into the winter driver par excellence.
A youth learning to drive a field car on greasy wet grass, taking out the car onto the frozen lake to do high-speed spins, towing (and being towed) via snowboard “water-skiing” late night sessions on back roads (we learned how to do “Rockfords” then). Even when I raced motocross I always did very well in the mud. As an adult a few years of riding in the “meat seat” (co-driver) in a rally car has given me a profound sense of high-speed drift. My own driving attempts with left foot braking; on the gas early-apex slides have been met with success. Add a little racecar school and a maze of local back roads and after a while, sliding is controllable, efficient and joyous. Works on gravel, on ice, and its always the best/easiest on hard packed snow.
My daughter commented while taking her to work, “Dad you’re so weird, everyone else freaks out when the cars slides, you think its fun and at try to do it”. –Yep, it’s true.Maybe it’s an inherent sense of physics or a coordination/athletic ability. Could be a bit of Gardner’s Bodily-Kinesthetic teamed with a personality with a propensity for risk-taking, all factors.
Not to say I’ve never stuffed it in a snowbank, …probably will again someday. That’s why one has a tow strap in the trunk. A pickup truck driving redneck will always stop if all he has to do is back up, you hook on, a quick yank, unhook, -he drives away with a wave, never leaving his seat.
Same trip to drop off my daughter, coming down the hill into Whitney Point on Rt. 26, we fly by an overly cautious ’01 Subaru AWD Forester. Catch myself wanting to say, “Idiot!” Almost fact he’s calling me a (insert expletive) Maniac!
Fri-Sat first real snow-winter precipitation of the season, winter storm advisory changed to warning. Much to the dismay of my snowboarding son it wasn’t the nice fluffy powder but a mix of rain, pre-formed slush and wet snow. Freezing conditions brought road travel to a minimum, it was snotty, yet necessity forced me out into it a few times -no big deal.
A little background: I consider myself an experienced driver, when it comes to low traction situations I have a generous portion of confidence. Thinking back, being a northeastern native son spanked by the snow belt has grown me into the winter driver par excellence.
A youth learning to drive a field car on greasy wet grass, taking out the car onto the frozen lake to do high-speed spins, towing (and being towed) via snowboard “water-skiing” late night sessions on back roads (we learned how to do “Rockfords” then). Even when I raced motocross I always did very well in the mud. As an adult a few years of riding in the “meat seat” (co-driver) in a rally car has given me a profound sense of high-speed drift. My own driving attempts with left foot braking; on the gas early-apex slides have been met with success. Add a little racecar school and a maze of local back roads and after a while, sliding is controllable, efficient and joyous. Works on gravel, on ice, and its always the best/easiest on hard packed snow.
My daughter commented while taking her to work, “Dad you’re so weird, everyone else freaks out when the cars slides, you think its fun and at try to do it”. –Yep, it’s true.Maybe it’s an inherent sense of physics or a coordination/athletic ability. Could be a bit of Gardner’s Bodily-Kinesthetic teamed with a personality with a propensity for risk-taking, all factors.
Not to say I’ve never stuffed it in a snowbank, …probably will again someday. That’s why one has a tow strap in the trunk. A pickup truck driving redneck will always stop if all he has to do is back up, you hook on, a quick yank, unhook, -he drives away with a wave, never leaving his seat.
Same trip to drop off my daughter, coming down the hill into Whitney Point on Rt. 26, we fly by an overly cautious ’01 Subaru AWD Forester. Catch myself wanting to say, “Idiot!” Almost fact he’s calling me a (insert expletive) Maniac!
Saturday, January 22, 2005
The Crowd Went Wild
Had a very vivid dream last night. Like most dreams surreal, strange and as usual, myself; very out of character.
It was a big rock show that the church was putting on. Three other guys and myself put together a retro-weezer-pub-cowpunk type of band and we had matching plaid short sleeve shirts. I decided to wear my Buddy Holly glasses. One of the dudes in the band was my childhood friend Steve. He and I played guitars. The other unknown dudes on bass and drums, one of them had a full head of short white hair.
With limited practice time we worked up a 4-song set, one of the songs was a cover of “No Time Left For You” by the Guess Who. Things were hurried yet I was fairly at ease and comfortable, basically ready for the night’s performance.
Glimpses of brief discussions, a bustling, busy atmosphere, a stage getting set-up and people moving about, then it was our turn. The first song was kinda sketchy, we bombed. I was a little nervous, but we came back strong on No Time, I belted out a screaming-preaching blues-brothers style solo during the bridge. We quickly picked it up with the last two songs and basically ended in a kickin’ jam session.
The crowd went wild and rushed the stage, they wanted to get pictures taken with us. I figured I should probably buy my own guitar now, then I awoke.
It was a big rock show that the church was putting on. Three other guys and myself put together a retro-weezer-pub-cowpunk type of band and we had matching plaid short sleeve shirts. I decided to wear my Buddy Holly glasses. One of the dudes in the band was my childhood friend Steve. He and I played guitars. The other unknown dudes on bass and drums, one of them had a full head of short white hair.
With limited practice time we worked up a 4-song set, one of the songs was a cover of “No Time Left For You” by the Guess Who. Things were hurried yet I was fairly at ease and comfortable, basically ready for the night’s performance.
Glimpses of brief discussions, a bustling, busy atmosphere, a stage getting set-up and people moving about, then it was our turn. The first song was kinda sketchy, we bombed. I was a little nervous, but we came back strong on No Time, I belted out a screaming-preaching blues-brothers style solo during the bridge. We quickly picked it up with the last two songs and basically ended in a kickin’ jam session.
The crowd went wild and rushed the stage, they wanted to get pictures taken with us. I figured I should probably buy my own guitar now, then I awoke.
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