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My Review of Hancock

15 Nov

from July 3, 2008

Hancock is the current Fourth of July weekend blockbuster. Will Smith both stars in and produced this biopic of Herbie Hancock, the legendary jazz musician who suddenly developed powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal humans.

Born in 1940, Herbie Hancock has gained renown as a leading figure in jazz. He has won multiple Grammy and Academy Awards, most notably for his 2007 tribute album “River: The Joni Letters,” which won the 2008 Grammy award for Album of the Year, only the second jazz album to win the award.

When the film opens, Will Smith’s Herbie Hancock is drunk, sleeping on a park bench outside the offices of Sony BMG Music Entertainment, his record label. He is awakened by a young kid with a synthesizer who tells him to “play some jazz fusion, Hancock.” Unfortunately, Herbie Hancock has completely lost his memory. His memories only go back a few years, to when he awoke in the hospital with a cracked skull. Totally by coincidence, this is also when his amnesia begins.

Having no memory of jazz fusion, but now possessing superpowers, Hancock tells the cute little kid to “fuck off” and flies away. Oh, did I mention that Hancock is as drunk as Mr. Know-It-All on a good day? Herbie Hancock flew blindly, almost crashing into a TWA jet whose pilot was only marginally more sober than he was.

Herbie Hancock’s idea of stopping criminals was to shove one criminals head up another criminal’s ass. Believe me, it was effective. And graphic. If only the real penal system operated that way.

Hancock had no memory of his past. He would sometimes stalk Miles Davis, sure that the musician held the key to his past, but a restraining order kept him at least one hundred feet away.

As much as Herbie Hancock fought crime and caught criminals, he caused even more collateral damage. For example, a group of masked thugs tried to rob a bank. The vault contained just over three million dollars. During the apprehension, Hancock crashed through a wall ($85,000), destroyed an armored car ($185,000), melted an entire bank of computers ($200,000), tossed the money from three ATMs to the assembled crowd ($450,000), and created nearly $6,000,000 in assorted property damage and lawsuit settlements. If he just had let the crooks steal the money, the city would have lost only half of what it did, and three girl scouts would still be alive.

Eventually Hancock realized that he missed the applause of the crowd. Though he didn’t remember his concerts, he still had a strange urge for adoration. Therefore he hired Jason Bateman as his public relations representative. Trust me, it made sense when I watched the film. Not so much right now though, I admit.

Jason Bateman has been working a lot lately. In his youth, he lost nearly every role he auditioned for to Michael J. Fox. Nowadays, with Fox otherwise occupied, Bateman has been getting every part that would have normally gone to ol’ twitchy.

Hancock and Bateman turn out to be an unbeatable team. Bateman taught Hancock to shave and stop crushing people’s pets when he landed. Hancock taught Bateman how to play “Watermelon Man” on the flute.

Many films are predicated on implausible coincidences. Coincidentally, so is this. It turns out that Jason Bateman’s wife is none other than Hancock’s superpowered wife, whom he forgot due to the amnesia. (Perhaps this is the time for a spoiler warning.) She left him years before when he fell off the stage at a concert in Pasadena (where he cracked his skull) and took all his money. He had amnesia, he didn’t even remember what money was.

Where did Herbie Hancock get his superpowers? Why did he insist on stopping crime instead of committing crime, as I would? Would he ever play electro-funk on the moog synthesizer again?It would not be fair of me to tell you. But trust me, everything works out: Hancock’s wife stays with Jason Bateman and Hancock moves to New York, where he gets a job playing bass with Paul Schaeffer on the Letterman show.

The absolute low point of this movie had to be the trailer for Starship Troopers 3. THREE? Are they kidding me?

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Staten Island

15 Nov

from July 2, 2008

Did you know that Staten Island is more than just a way to get to New Jersey? I discovered that this week when I crossed the Verrazano Bridge and did not go straight through to the Goethals Bridge.

That’s the usual route. After you cross the Verrazano into Staten Island, you pay your $10 and give a DNA sample and then close your eyes and take a nap. Don’t worry about driving with your eyes closed, this is the Staten Island Expressway- nobody drives! Sponsored by Sleepy’s, the Mattress Professionals, the Staten Island Expressway is actually the first rest area on the New Jersey Turnpike. Better known as The Guy Molinari Rest Area, this vital link to New Jersey reaches an average speed of nearly 10 mph during the week, up to 12 mph on Sundays.

Of course, you don’t have to cross the Goethals Bridge. Staten Island offers many other points of interest, like The Outerbridge Crossing to New Jersey.

However, “America’s Gateway to New Jersey” has things to offer totally unrelated to getting to New Jersey. I was intrigued to discover that, despite any real attraction, people live on Staten Island. Yes, it is true. Staten Island has many houses situated on “terraces,” large cliffs overlooking the Staten Island Expressway. A few years ago, one of the restraining walls near the expressway collapsed and a home tumbled onto the highway.

Staten Island is also home to tanker trucks and rail freight. Staten Island has a mall. Staten Island has a lake. Popularly known as “Crystal Lake” (so named after the lake in Friday the 13th where Jason killed some camp kids,) Clove Lake is home to Staten Island’s many friendly teenagers. Evidence of these teenagers can be found on Sunday mornings, when parks department employees sweep up scores of used condoms from the picnic areas.

On this particular day I braved the Verrazano Bridge and immediately got off the SI Expressway at the first possible exit. Fortunately this turned out to be the exit I needed. If I had to go to the Staten Island Mall I may still be stuck in traffic today. My goal was Bay Street, and I was immediately in my comfort zone. I live a block from BAY Parkway, and to drive on any street without “Bay” in the name makes me rather nervous.

Bay Street is a long street that may or may not be near a bay. During the five or ten minutes I drove, I passed through a nice residential area, a barren area, a run down residential area, another barren area, and then I realized that I was driving in circles and stopped the car. A quick peak at my mapquest directions later and I was on my way.

My goal was Ralph McKee High School. Who is Ralph McKee? A brief and uninspired search of Yahoo turned up a few suspects. First, there is a Ralph McKee who plays bass in a band in Ann Arbor. There is also a Ralph McKee who was an educator, albeit in Kansas. I also found a Ralph McKee who owns a club called Bodacious Classics in Portland Oregon. I’ll just assume the school is named after him.

Ralph McKee HS is in the center of a cluster of one-way streets, none of which lead to the school. It sits in the center of some kind of Mobius strip. I believe it does not exist in three-dimensional space.

It is one block away from the home of the Staten Island Yankees. I used to work near Keyspan Park, home of the Brooklyn Cyclones, so I get to stay in the McNamara Division of the New York-Penn League. One day I hope to work near Citi Field and move up to the majors.

Parking is a problem on Staten Island. This is only partially alleviated by the acres of parking on the Staten Island Expressway. I parked on a nice residential street about a block from the school and started walking. About ten feet ahead of me a car opened and a woman got out and started walking in the same direction. So we were both walking down the narrow street, almost next to each other. There was no room to pass and she was walking more slowly than I was. Every few steps I was in danger of bumping into her so I’d slow down and let her get ahead, but she was so slow I’d catch up. So I walked in the sort of gait seen on Patterson’s Bigfoot video in an attempt to keep from knocking her over.

Wouldn’t you know she was going to the same place I was? We both got to the entrance of the school and went in together. The woman turned out to be some sort of secretary at the school, and how’s that for making a first impression?

The school itself is small and reminded me of a junior high. That was perfect, as my interviewer reminded me of a junior high student. Charlton Heston’s classic line from Planet of the Apes rang through my head: “If this is the best they have to offer, in six months we’ll be running this place.” That was immediately before the gorillas showed up, killed his partners, and put Taylor in line for a lobotomy.

After an interview which was more of a formality, I was back in my car and ready to explore more of what Staten Island has to offer. It turns out that SI has nothing else to offer so I headed back to the bridge and home.

As I drove back down Bay Street I spotted the superstructure of a battleship looming over some buildings. So either Staten Island was being invaded by Brooklyn, and trust me we can take them, there was a naval base there. I love that sort of thing so I tried to drive to the next block to see which ship it was. This was easier said than done, much easier, as every street that led to the next block was a one-way street going the wrong way. I do not understand how that was possible but it was. Somehow I traveled through some cosmic wormhole and ended up smack in front of the ship. It was The Intrepid, fresh from its refit in New Jersey and awaiting its move back to Manhattan. Totally cool, as the West Side of NYC is not the same since the ship left.

So I wanted to get back to Bay Street but, inexplicably, every street was a one way street heading in the wrong direction. Again. But somehow I got back to Bay Street and crossed the bridge, and home.

I look forward to working on Staten Island- the EZ Pass, the confusing streets, the traffic, but most of all the culture. (I’m just kidding, there is no culture there.)

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