DATE: 01/24/2008 02:28:07 / MOOD: other
Wow, that is a huge ???ing image. I'll have to work on that.
Anyway, one of the debates that constantly comes up in the world 'o' message board posting is the debate over "genre." Because something is written, or filmed for that matter, in a particular style, does that automatically make it less worthy of discussion or consideration? Is the fact that most genre fiction is, by and large, crap weigh down the good stuff that manages to slip through?
One of the guys this most applies to are Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett, who are now widely considered to be a couple of the best writers of the WWII and post-war era, as well as pretty much inventing an entire genre, but because of their pulp origins, there's still that literary snobbitude. Or something.
Anyway, this debate most recently came up again in a thread on the CHUD Message Boards, and it was on my mind while reading The Winter of Frankie Machine by Don Winslow. Frankie Machine is not high art by any means, and it's not great literature. But it's a pretty fantastic genre novel that I whipped through in about two days.
What's it about? Well, see, there's this guy, Frank Machianno. He's a bait shop and linen service owner, surfer, coffee fanatic, does his crossword puzzles just like Stanley from The Office. He's a good guy, and one of the things I love is that he takes us through Frankie's daily life before pulling the reveal that's not really a reveal at all, because it says so on the back cover: Frankie's a retired hit man for the San Diego mafia.
I believe that great genre fiction, and particularly great crime fiction, is like jazz. The same basic form is there, the themes are repeated, and in order to set yourself apart, it's how you riff on those themes. It's the singer, not the song, as it were.
Frankie Machine is like great jazz. Sure, Frankie's a hit man forced out of retirement after he's set up, but Winslow creates an engaging and compelling character that we want to see turn out all right. Frankie's not a lug, he's a smart guy, a guy who likes opera and cooking. So we're willing to follow Frankie on his journey of discovery and vengance, which is filled with humor, quotable lines, and several really great action beats along the way.
One reason I really enjoyed reading The Winter of Frankie Machine is that, in Frankie's journey to figure out which someone set him up the bomb, we get flashbacks seeing how Frankie got involved in this thing of ours in the first place. Winslow brings the West Coast/San Diego mob scene of the late 60s through the 80s to as vivid life as Scorsese brought Vegas or New York and Chase brought New Jersey. What's notable about this, though, is that the years I mentioned are really about the decline of the mafia, and if it ever becomes a movie, it would be a nice counterpoint to Casino and the missing chapter in the American mob movie saga. This, to me, belongs between Goodfellas and Sopranos in terms of looking at the mafia from the ground level, from the inside.
Plus, it has a cameo from Richard Nixon. gotta love that.
The Leonard-Justus Institute of Popular Culture rates The Winter of Frankie Machine an 8 out of 10.
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DATE: 01/23/2008 02:52:14 / MOOD: other
Joe Flaherty voice: Dead!
In all seriousness, though, this is pretty sad and sudden. Ledger's
performance in Brokeback Mountain is one for the ages. Not being an
actor myself, one of the biggest joys I get from movies is watching
actors act. I've always said that I think acting is a magic thing, and
one of the reasons I love Inside the Actors Studio so much is that, as
sycophantic as it is, it gives schlubs like me a look behind the
curtain. I think that's why I became a writer, once I decided to get
serious about it, and a director later -- to play with actors. To watch
them make magic.
Anyway, Ledger in Brokeback does an amazing thing. Through very little
makeup, he ages from a young man to an old man over the course of the
film. This is seen in his last scene in the picture, where he's playing
late 50s, and his daughter comes to see him to tell him she's getting
married. Ledger's character, Ennis Del Mar, says he can't go because he
has work. Then he has this line I'll always remember, as he reconsiders
and tells her that his job can "probably find themselves another old
cowboy" to do his job for him. There's just so much conveyed in that
line, it knocked me on my ass. That was a guy in his twenties saying
that, and yet, I believed the character was a man much older than he
was.
And when reflecting about Ledger's death, and what film fans have lost,
I think of that scene. Which is why it's so sad -- the guy did that
when he was 25. What else could he have done?
Plus, he had a two year old daughter. Having lost a parent at an early age, that's the saddest thing in the world.
Damn.
(Note: This is really just a test post to get this thing up and running. I'm not that kind of asshole, except, well, when I am that kind of asshole.)
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