Things that Piss Me Off

Swerving back to more personal and subjective items here.  You may sympathize with some of these, much of which is behavior which offends my sense of honor and decency. 

Back in the late 1880s when I was attending the University of Maryland, College Park, I had occasion to dine at the South Campus Dining Hall with my comrade, Phil, who was visiting from George Manson.  Something provoked an angry and contemptuous reaction from me, which provoked a humorous reaction from him.  “What’s so funny?” I asked, and his response was, “I’ve never seen you pissed off.”  “I get pissed off all the time.” “Maybe so, but never in my presence.”  Well, there we go.

Here are some.

Hey, Pig.   Fast food restaurants frequently have a range of seating arrangements, usually for four, but also for two or one.  When the place is almost empty it really doesn’t matter where you sit, even if you’re alone.  But when the place is full at lunch hour, like Chick-Fil-A so often is (especially on Sunday, its peak time) those dining alone should take a solo spot – not an entire four person table.  Come on.

Hey, Pig of the Road.   If there’s a double yellow line in the road, we know better than to drive on the left or use the yellow line to center our car.  But sometimes you have a wide road, like through a subdivision or parking lot, not obviously intended for one-way traffic.   Then, logic, common sense and courtesy demand you stick to the right side of the street, short of sideswiping the parked cars on your right.  As opposed to, driving RIGHT DOWN THE MIDDLE.   Is that so hard to figure out?

Hold On, I’ll Just Be A Minute.   I saw one guy park his car in front of the bank, in the road itself, to use the ATM when plenty of parking spaces free.   I saw a woman park her car on Viers Mill Road, in a lane of traffic, to post flyers on the bus shelter, despite plenty of empty spaces in the parking lot behind the shelter.   As a matter of fact, you do own the road, don’t you?

Cut-ins.  Imagine you’re at the store, and there’s only one cashier open, and thus the line is fairly long – everyone having to patiently await their turn at the register.  Would you cut to the front, in front of everyone else who’s been waiting, and petulantly and arrogantly assert your right to avoid waiting in line because you’re special or your time is more valuable?  Probably not. 

Now it’s a two lane road merging down to one lane.  Instead of merging with everyone else and waiting, you decide, now protected by 3-4k lb of steel, plastic and glass, to cut in front of everyone because you’re “special” and your time is worth more than everyone else’s.  Some of that glass might be tinted, most plausibly to hide your face from the others on the road inconvenienced by your rude driving habits.  Same deal.  Wait, you asshole. 

Or I'm driving down the road in the right lane, and someone pulls right out in front of me.  WTF?  And I look in my rear view mirror and see NO ONE behind me.  Huh?  This person couldn't wait for me to pass by?  Dumbass.

Tailgaters REALLY piss me off.  I don't mean people BBQ'ing in the parking lot before a sporting event (though my preference is for Shakedown Street), I mean yahoos driving right behind you on the road.  My reaction varies from slamming on the brakes to slowly decelerating to the posted speed limit.  GET A CLUE.

Nope, no bathroom.  Any establishment which restricts bathroom use to customers.  "Please buy and consume food and drink BEFORE you use the bathroom, though I can see your bladder is full and you're about to urinate everywhere."  Yeah, a very intelligent policy.   NOT.

A special place in hell is reserved for those who don't even allow patrons to use their bathroom.  The DC Metro has "water closets" closed to the public, and in their entire system there is no station with a restroom open to the public.  The only retail establishment I can recall is Vintage Vinyl in Ford, New Jersey (up the road from Rutgers) which won't even allow its own customers to use its facilities.  "Try the pizza place next door."  Those pizza people - who don't require you to buy a slice - will be strumming harps in the clouds while the VV jerks enjoy their perpetually skipping vinyl in the Hot Place forever.  

Of course, sometimes the customers screw up.  In an empty restaurant it doesn't matter where you sit whether you're alone with a group.   But I've seen people, in busy restaurants, take up an entire table to themselves when they're eating alone.  It would serve them right if 2-3 strangers sat down with them.  In France, people think nothing of sitting down at a table with you.

“Sellouts!”  People who knee jerk to accuse a band of selling out as soon as an album sells more than the last one.  Especially convenient that these bands happen to sell out AFTER the person got into them and saw them in concert.  Uh, yeah…

Bill Ward.  When Black Sabbath completed their final tour, original drummer Bill Ward was not behind the set.  Instead, young and competent Tommy Clufetos handled that role.   Most Sabbath fans have some grey matter between their ears and accepted that, purchasing tickets and enjoying one last tour from Ozzy, Tony and Geezer.  A minority bitched and moaned that Ward, who has bailed on tours as far back as The Mob Rules and has never consistently been able to tour with the band since then, was not arbitrarily included.  These assclowns were privileged to stay at home and feel superior, so the rest of us could actually enjoy the band play one more time. 

More Firey Birdy Stuff

This weekend, I went down to Stafford to try to get my Firebird Esprit up and running, and drive it back up to Northern Virginia.  The brakes were not cooperative and the engine, even with a new battery, resisted starting and running.  Leaving it in a field outside for months at a time is apparently not calculated to make a 70s muscle car start up easily.  I also found all the parts I had bought earlier and which were never installed as the floor pan job never quite got done by the guy supposed to do it – who is now resting in peace (that demise being very recent and not the reason for the delay). 

The 70s.  I had vague awareness of “Smokey et le Bandit” but did not actually see the movie when it came out.  No one I knew had a performance car, let alone a Trans Am Special Edition, the black & gold model Burt Reynolds drove.   Sadly, having been born in 1969 I was too young at the time to appreciate all those cars.  Now I take special delight in watching TV and movies from that time and observing those cars in the background, someone’s daily driver which happened to be captured on film.

Summer of 1988.   Although I received my driver’s license in 1986, due to college parking logistics I wasn’t able to actually purchase a car until 1988.   My quest for a Trans Am was cut short when my parents bought me a car – a 1984 Chevy Cavalier.   4 doors, great gas mileage, and relatively reliable.  That lasted until summer 1991 when my sister totaled it driving through the neighborhood.  In her defense, she had only started to learn to drive at that time.

Fall of 1992.  My first new car: 1992 Pontiac Firebird. I finally got a job earning enough to buy a new car.  I wanted a Formula with the 5.7L V8 (350) but they were long sold out – and out of my price range anyway.   But I got this one, brand new, from King Pontiac in Gaithersburg, Maryland.  Black on black, t-tops, power windows and door locks, and a 5.0L V8 which got the car running.  My only modifications were a performance chip.  I sold this to my boss after buying the Formula.

Spring 1994.   Car training.  NOVA & ASE.  Upon returning from Norfolk in late February after taking the Virginia Bar (again) I got a nasty surprise:  LAID OFF.  Now I had a surplus of free time and a conscientious desire to spend it wisely apart from the obvious job search.  Not having any prior knowledge of auto mechanics and no suitably skilled friends or relatives, I taught myself using a high school textbook followed by adult education courses, finally AUT courses at NOVA Alexandria.  I learned enough to pass the ASE exams on engine repair, automatic transmissions, and manual transmissions.   This also allowed me to do minor work on my own cars, such as oil changes, ATF changes, differential fluid changes, and brake work.   For anything more complex, I brought to mechanics, either local shops or the dealer.  By this point I could talk to the mechanic and understand what he was talking about.  So I’d say this was well worth the effort to learn, even if I never worked as a mechanic.  Hell, I even ordered the factory service manual for the ’92 base Firebird, which also applied to the Formula, same model year.

June 1995.   1992 Pontiac Firebird Formula “350”.  After a three year quest I finally had this.  Not black (yet), but blue-green metallic with a black interior.   A rare “Formula 350” without power door locks, power windows, etc. – a stripped down model for which the only option was the 350.  However, the first owner did put the SLP package on it: larger throttle body with an airfoil, Siamesed intake runners with a cool air kit, 1 5/8” headers, 3” exhaust, performance chip and cooler thermostat, for a total boost of 50 HP from 240 to 290.  Later I added a 2800 stall converter, shift kit, and 3.73 gears in the rear. 

305 vs. 350.  The 5.0L V8 came up in the late 70s to save gas.  It has a smaller bore than the 350 (3.74 vs. 4.0) but the same stroke (3.48), but the smaller bore severely compromises the breathing and makes the engine highly resistant to performance mods.  The earlier 327, with a 4 inch bore and 3.25 inch stroke, breathes easier and revs higher than the 350, so that engine does respond to modifications.  In any case, the 350 remains the top small block Chevy V8 and should be considered the prime choice for anyone building a performance V8 made by Chevrolet.  That engine has the widest variety of support even today.  My Formula was MUCH faster than the base Firebird.  The original owner had it doing high 13s at the quarter mile dragstrip, while the best I could do – before the trans mods – was low 14s, with trap speeds of 95-98 mph.  I even came third place in a drag race when my practice runs spilled over into the actual eliminations and my opponents redlighted.  That track, 75/80 south of Frederick, Maryland, has since closed down. 

Late 1995:  1968 Pontiac Firebird 400.  I had extra money, enough to buy one of these: a hard top.  Nowadays the ‘69 Camaro gets most of the attention, directly inspiring the current version of the Camaro.   The ‘67-69 models started out with OHC 6, including the Sprint model with a QuadraJet; had a mid-range model with a 326 or 350 cubic inch V8 (either two barrel and single exhaust, or the 4bbl & dual exhaust HO model) going up to the 400 model with its GTO engine and faux hood scoops.  Of course the 400 was my preference.  I preferred the hard top, but the convertible was also intriguing.  I also preferred the automatic version (3 speed TH400) over the manual (4 speed).  

My buddy Phil and I took the bus from DC to Detroit, only to find – guess what? - the car wasn’t drivable and no flatbed trucks available to bring it back.   The carb wasn’t working properly and the ignition switch came through the left hole where the stereo knob would be if the stereo was still in it.  We had to rent a car at the airport to get to his place, and then simply drove it back to DC.  A shame, because it was in good shape body-wise and was a real 400 hardtop (white, green interior, automatic).   

Other cars I looked at: a 1974 Trans Am SD455 in DC, red with white interior, in extremely rough shape; a black-on-black ‘72 Firebird Formula;  a gun metal gray ‘67 Firebird 400 hardtop with no proper tags, so we had to just tool around the neighborhood; a white ‘68 400 convertible in better shape, out near Chantilly, I drove from the guy’s house to 28/50 with the top up, then back with the top down, my dad following behind to watch; and a pair of GTOs, ‘68/69, one in particularly rough shape.    

Generally these cars had the skinny steering wheel, slablike “bucket seats”, spongy brakes (some four wheel drum with no power booster); AM radio; wallowing handling; varying amounts of rust and decay.  

I also test drove a few Formula 350s (87-92) and lost out on a ‘89 350 black on black with T-tops (a rarity with the 350) which I missed out on when the guy sold it to someone else an hour before I called him back.  

1998.  Color change.   We had a client, Tim, down in Stafford, who took the blue-green Formula in September 1997 and converted it to black by January 1998.  Oddly, black paint is the least forgiving of flaws and the most difficult color to switch to – including the door jambs and under the hatch.  I never did end up putting the decals back on. 

1999.  Pontiac 400 V8.  Some time after that I acquired this engine, all by itself, from a shop which had taken it out of a 70s Trans Am.  Apparently something was wrong with it.  I bought it not to put into a car but simply to take it apart for my own amusement.

First the carburetor (QuadraJet), which I also disassembled, cleaned, and rebuilt.  Then the intake manifold, valve covers, water pump, timing chain cover, timing chain, and distributor.  Then the cylinder heads themselves, which had probably never been off, taking a breaker bar to get all 10 bolts loose from each.  I dissembled the heads and cleaned the valves, putting them apart by cylinder, all 16 (intake & exhaust x 8).  Flipping it upside down on the stand, and taking off the oil pan, I took out the pistons, and finally the crankshaft itself.  Sure enough, the crank and block were unusable and we threw them away.  Everything else usable was cleaned, painted, and included with the 1980 Trans Am sale mentioned below.

2000.  1980 Trans Am SE.  In May 2000 my comrade Tim located this car at a towing auction.  It was black on tan with a normally aspirated (non-turbo) 301 V8.  We could never get it running.  His buddy had a 70’s Pontiac full-size with a running Pontiac 455, but sold that car before I could buy it – but not before he and I had already pulled the 301 from the Trans Am.  D’oh!  When that happened I decided to, and did, sell the ’80 TA. 

2012.  That December the Formula went up in flames, becoming literally a Firebird.  The car was totaled.  I held on to it but eventually had to conclude it was a lost cause.  The engine was pulled and rebuilt while I still held hope of resurrecting the car, so now I’m trying to sell that on eBay.  I was forced to replace the Formula with a brand new Honda Civic, which I later traded in, back in 2015, for the current 2009 Dodge Charger R/T.

 

2013-Present. 1976 Firebird Esprit.  I mentioned this in an earlier blog, and above. We’ll see what happens to it in the future – if anything.

Woodstock vs. Altamont vs. Isle of Wight

Three major music festivals occurring within about year of each other.  Many bands who missed out on Woodstock made it a point to show up for Isle of Wight, and as you can see, some bands were at both.

Born in 1969, I was obviously too young for this.  In fact, I didn’t even bother to attend the 1994 version.  The closest thing to a Woodstock I’ve attended was Donington in 1985.  I’ve mentioned it multiple times so I’ll hold off on doing so yet again.

Incidentally, I recently saw a Season 9 episode of South Park in which Cartman tries to warn South Park of the danger posed by a hippie population which grew to threshold level sufficient to organize a multiple day music festival, ostensibly to challenge and oppose all of society’s injustices, in particular opposition to “big business” and “The Man”.  Though as a practical matter, the festival simply winds up being simply music and weed.  For all their talk of sticking it to the man or making a difference, ultimately it’s simply an excuse to get high and listen to music.  The stupid thing is that Altamont and Isle of Wight were not expected to change anything but simply honest gatherings for the sake of music.  Nixon didn’t pull us out of Vietnam because of Woodstock – or because of Altamont or Isle of Wight.  In fact, it would be hard to find ANY war which could be described as having ended because thousands of hippies got together and smoked weed at a music festival.  Eventually they determined the optimal way to disperse the crowds – in fact, highly effective -was to simply broadcast Slayer at full volume.

   

[All performances listed in reverse order from headliner to opener]

Woodstock:  Friday, August 15 to Sunday, August 18, 1969.   Upstate New York, in the mud.  Attendance: over 400,000.  This is clearly the most famous.

Friday.  Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie, Melanie Safka, Ravi Shankar, Tim Hardin, Bert Sommer, Sweetwater, Swami Satchidananda, Richie Havens

Saturday.  Jefferson Airplane, The Who, Sly & the Family Stone, Janis Joplin, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Grateful Dead, Mountain, Canned Heat, The Inedible String Band, Keef Hartley Band, John B. Sebastian, Santana, Country Joe McDonald (“what are we fighting for?”), Quill

Sunday.  Jimi Hendrix, Sha Na Na, Paul Butterfield Blues Band, Blood Sweat & Tears, Johnny Winter, The Band, Ten Years After, Country Joe & the Fish, Joe Cocker

Although the Dead played, they considered their performance so poor they refused to allow it to be released.  The Stones were not there as Mick Jagger was in Australia filming “Ned Kelly”.  Led Zeppelin were touring the East Coast as a headliner and weren’t interested in being yet another band on the bill.  Iron Butterfly insisted on a helicopter which was denied.  The Moody Blues had been booked for a European tour – so they made it a point to show up for Isle of Wight.  The Beatles were in the process of breaking up and did not show up, of course.  It was Santana’s debut.  Joni Mitchell was convinced not to appear at Woodstock because her manager said she would not be back in time for a TV appearance on Monday night – only to show up at the TV appearance and discover the other bands playing WERE at Woodstock.  D’oh! 

There have been more recent Woodstock festivals, but we ignored those.  Generally the gist is shitty bands, too much mud, and overpriced water. 

Altamont.  December 6, 1969.One day, at a race track in California.  Attendance:  300,000.

The Stones hired the Hell’s Angels as security, confusing the somewhat more notorious American variety with the more sedate Hell’s Grannies they have back in the UK.  The Grateful Dead showed up but refused to play.  The Stones’ set was filmed, but shot FROM behind Charlie Watts, so the view is through the band and at the audience.  Marty Balin was beaten by the Angels, but Mr. Hunter was killed.  Sonny Barger, the famous head of the Hell’s Angels, had a substantial chapter on this incident, obviously blaming the Stones, who struck him as effeminate English troubadours, for the whole thing.  [Note: the Beatles endured shitty clubs in Hamburg until they made it big.  As a Liverpool band they had no choice.  Black Sabbath, from Birmingham, another non-London city, did the same years later.  The Stones, from London, were spared this experience.  And yet some consider the Stones a heavier, nastier band than the Beatles.   SMH.]

Bands: Rolling Stones, Crosby Stills Nash & Young, Flying Burrito Brothers, Jefferson Airplane, Santana

Isle of Wight 1970:  August 26-31.  Some island off the southern coast of England.   Attendance: over 600,000.  Graeme Edge of the Moody Blues remarked, “even if 90% of the crowd left, it would still be 60,000 people.”  That’s the capacity of a football or soccer stadium.  And no one was killed.

Wednesday:  Mighty Baby, Kris Kristofferson, David Bromberg, Rosalie Sorrels, Kathy Smith, Judas Jump

Thursday: Gracious!, Gilberto Gil & Caetano Veloso, Terry Reid, Groundhogs (!!!), Black Widow, Howl, Ray Owens’ Moon, Andy Roberts’ Everyone, Supertramp (first album), Gary Farr

Friday: Mungo Jerry, Cactus (!), Voices of East Harlem, Redbone, Procol Harum, Family, Chicago, Tony Joe White, Taste (Rory Gallagher’s first band, final show), Lighthouse, Arrival, Fairfield Parlour

Saturday: Melanie, Sly & the Family Stone, The Who [I have the DVD], The Doors, Emerson Lake & Palmer (second show ever), Ten Years After, Miles Davis, Tiny Tim, Joni Mitchell, Lighthouse, Shawn Phillips, John Sebastian

Sunday: Richie Havens, Leonard Cohen, Joan Baez, Jimi Hendrix, Jethro Tull, The Moody Blues, Pentagle, Donovan, Free, Heaven, Ralph McTell, Kris Kristofferson, Good News

Outside:  Hawkwind and Pink Fairies. 

As noted, many bands who passed on Woodstock made it here.   Jim Morrison overcame his fear of playing outdoor shows and made it.  The Moody Blues showed up.  The Who and Hendrix were at both Woodstock AND IOW.   Santana was at Woodstock AND Altamont. 

Versailles et Marseille

Recently I finished off the second seasons of two shows concerning different areas and times for France, that country in Europe some people (including me) seem to care about.  I alternated episodes and watched them both.  They were both highly entertaining, and as you might imagine, I’m happy to tell you about them.

Versailles.  No trip to Paris is complete without a visit to the huge palace of Versailles, just southwest of the city by train.  It was built by the most famous French King, Louis XIV.  In this case “Versailles” is less an account of the building of that palace – though that does figure in the story – and more a vivid depiction of Louis XIV (played by George Blagden, who some might recognize as the monk-Viking Athelstan in the TV series “Vikings”) and his court.  Lots of naughty things happen, the two biggest being the king’s mistress and his younger brother’s affairs with other men. 

Louis XIV.  Easily the most important French king, as he served the longest, built Versailles, and did a few things when he was king.  Mostly he bumped ugly with England and Holland.  Oddly, Moliere, the famous French playwright who serves as France’s equivalent of William Shakespeare for purposes of boring students, seems to be MIA here.  Odd.  Anyhow.

As noted, the King’s social life is front and center, particularly his difficult relationship with the Queen, with whom he is not all that compatible, and his mistress, with whom he seems to get along much better.  But there are other characters who are also compelling.  Aside from the king himself, my favorite is Fabien Marchal (The Onion), who serves as the King’s Black Ops Officer – he’ll do whatever it takes to defend the King’s interests, including torturing bad guys and lurking amidst the brothels and slums of Paris to track down whoever he needs to find.   

FM isn’t the only intriguing non-King character.  Remember that earlier blog about Louis Philippe, the last king of France?   Well, that scandalous younger brother of the king, who only seems to sleep with men and dressed in women’s clothes, Philippe I, Duke of Orleans (Alexander Vlahos), had a remarkably important role to serve in history, though he didn’t live to see it.

Charles the X was Louis XVI’s last brother.  With his death, the lineage would go up the line.  Louis XVI’s father, Louis XV, was an only child, so he had no younger brothers.   His father, Louis Duke of Burgundy (1682-1712) was likewise an only child, as was his own father, the Grand Dauphin, Louis XIV’s only son, who lived from 1661-1711.  This brings us back up to Louis XIV himself.  His younger brother, that gay dude, did manage to produce children.   Working back up to 1830:  his son, Philippe II (1674-1723); his grandson, Louis, Duke of Orleans (1703-1752); his great-grandson, Louis Philippe I, Duke of Orleans (1725-1785); and finally his great-great-grandson Louis Philippe II, Louis Philippe’s own father, executed by guillotine during the revolution.  This means that the last king of France, Louis Philippe, was the great-great-great-grandson of Philippe I.    That spunky German princess he marries (Jessica Clark), Princess Elizabeth Charlotte, Madame Palatine, was Louis Philippe’s great-great-great-grandmother. 

Marseille.  France’s second-largest city, after Paris, down on the Mediterranean, serves as the scene of this series, original on Netflix, with Gerard Depardieu as Robert Taro, the retiring mayor of the city.  The strange thing is that he plans on allowing his protégé, Lucas Barres (Benoit Maginot Line), to take over from him, but Barres is not content with that – for reasons which become clear later, he ousts Taro.  In season 2 the Front National essentially takes over, with a blonde woman who screws up.  Excellent views of the city, with its impressive Notre Dame de la Garde cathedral up on the highest point, make this a visually stunning series.  One character, Aubin, shares his name with my brother’s in-laws.  Moreover, the soccer team, Olympique Marseille, gets renamed but its stadium isn’t changed, and serves as a focal plot point when Taro’s daughter winds up in a romance with the owner’s son.  I watched it in French with English subtitles and enjoyed it immensely.   While I’m obviously a big fan of Paris, seeing Marseille get such attention is a refreshing change. 

Sgt Pepper & Across the Universe

The Beatles, as we all well know, were actively putting out albums from 1963 to 1970 and broke up that year.  Each of the Beatles pursued a solo career, and Paul McCartney was most active in touring.  John Lennon was killed by Mark David Chapman in December 1980 in New York City, while George Harrison died of natural causes in 2001.   McCartney and Ringo Starr remain active.

To say their music touched our lives would be an understatement.  I’m sure even Mick and Keith would have to admit that – as loathe as they may be to admit so publicly.  I sense that Keith takes a perverse delight in pushing buttons and pissing people off, deliberately fashioning himself as the John Lennon of the Rolling Stones.  Mick is more diplomatic and polite, eager to please, and thus fashioning himself as the Paul McCartney of his band.   By keeping his mouth shut and simply playing the drums, Charlie does his Ringo role well enough.

Economists and those who understand and care about economics often talk about “externalities”, both positive and negative.  These are effects a transaction has on non-participants.  The classic negative externality is pollution.  But music has the wonderful positive externality of itself.  None of us worked for Parlophone or Apple Records, or for the Beatles, but most of us with (AHEM) taste in music enjoy the Beatles’ music whether we simply purchased LPs, CDs, MP3s, or even just heard others playing the music.   We’d hope the effect was positive.

One major NEGATIVE effect was when one track on the self-titled, so-called “White Album”, “Helter Skelter”, persuaded Charles Manson to persuade a gang of hot but stupid teenage girls from California to kill random strangers in L.A. in August 1969.  I’ve already addressed this in a prior blog and don’t want to discuss it again.

A more ambiguous effect was produced by two movies inspired by the Beatles’ music:  “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” (named after the album, of course) from the 1970s, and “Across the Universe” which came out in 2007.   It’s these that I’ll be discussing today.   [This will be on the exam.]

 “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”.  By now this 1978 film is much-ridiculed.  I recall its release back at the time but did not see it, as I was a kid and hadn’t yet joined the Beatles cult.  None of the Beatles were involved, but a whole host of popular bands from the late 70s were.  The core “band” were the Bee Gees joined by Peter Frampton to make 4.   The majority of the music in the film comes from the album of the same name (minus “Within Without You” or “Lovely Rita”) plus the later album Abbey Road.  There’s some stupid plot about Mean Mr. Mustard stealing relevant items and it’s up to the boys to un-f**k everything to the tune of Beatles songs to fix it.  Alice Cooper is here, as are Aerosmith, doing a half-assed copy of “Come Together” which they are too proud of.   The music is lip-synced which is odd because it’s all redone anyway.  Likewise, Steve Martin gets props for “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” which he didn’t do particularly well either.  

Essentially they honor the Beatles by making a stupid movie with a stupid plot, someone’s idea of making money off the Beatles by doing something which really doesn’t do much more than remind us that the Beatles were excellent and too many other bands which came after were not.   Having said that, it’s not so bad that no one should ever watch it.  Do your brain and its limited memory capacity a favor and rent the movie from Netflix (as I did), watch it once, then forget it.  Aerosmith continue covering “Come Together”, while the Bee Gees saw fit to forget to reissue this when redoing their back catalog.  I’m sure they’re prouder of “Saturday Night Fever” and for good reason.   

“Across the Universe”.   The 2007 release occurred after I’d drank the Beatles Kool-Aid so I saw it in the movie theater when it came and out and ignored it until seeing it on DVD again last night.   Evan Rachel Wood, who we can recognize as Dolores in the new Westworld series from HBO, is one of the major characters here, Lucy.   The movie starts from the early 60s and winds its way through the decade, plunging through different situations with different Beatles songs performed by the cast members to accentuate plot points.  Jim Sturgess plays a Paul McCartney-type character, Joe Anderson plays Max, not sure if he’s supposed to be John Lennon or Kurt Cobain, who he much more closely resembles. 

I’m guessing the people who did this probably watched “Sgt Pepper” and tried to avoid the same issues, with mixed success.  You really have a continuous narrative set out in Beatles songs loosely chronological according to release, the songs actually sung by the actors (?) or far better lip-synced than in “Sgt. Pepper”.   Bono and Eddie Izzard are here as well.  Somewhat pretentious but not too silly or stupid.   While it seems to take itself seriously I didn’t find it nearly as stupid as “Sgt. Pepper”.  However, I don’t think it’s worth buying and still merits Netflix rental followed by oblivion. 

Now the question is: is there a shitty band (no, the Beatles don’t count as such) which inspired an excellent film?  Get working, people.