FILM COMMENTARY - “300” & “Ma and Pa Kettle”

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Well, as promised, I got started on watching movies again...not that I ever stopped...but I did a serious, “Okay, get a disc, sit down, put it in the portable DVD player and watch...” talk to myself.  And, surprisingly, myself didn’t respond with “bacon.”

The next thing you’re going to ask  yourself is why “300” and why on God’s Earth “Ma and Pa Kettle?”  And why, for the love of Pete, back to back?

I had originally planned on going through my big black cases of DVDs but, instead, went to the book shelf and “300” came right before the collection of the “Adventures of Ma and Pa Kettle.”  So these would be first three.

“300” is a hyper-stylized film based on a graphic novel.  It looked and felt like a graphic novel.  In the featurettes on “Raging Bull” the sound guy talked about how much work it took to make the sound effect of flashing bulbs.  I wondered how much work it took to make the blood-letting squishy sound.  Did the SFX guy just have different squeeze bottles of ketchup, mustard, spicy mustard?  So many times did characters get gored, stabbed, stabbed, gored that the sound effect was abundantly used.  As was super-slow-motion killing and lots of yelling about being “Spartans” or something.  It was a film that I found so over-the-top that it was laughable...which may have been the point.  If I had any fault with the testosterone fueled chest-fest it’s that the evil bad guy Xerxes (which, surprisingly, sounds a lot like the sound effect of someone getting stabbed in the chest) doesn’t die a horrible terrible death.  He just gets a flesh-wound and a what will appear to be a really weird scar through his cheek and ear.  The fact that he’s flamboyantly gay could also give us all pause.  Still – there wasn’t much to recommend “300” other than the squishing sounds and its over-the-top-ness.  So...if you’re looking for that...step right up.

TOTALLY switching gears, I landed on “The Egg and I” and “Ma and Pa Kettle Go to Town.”  Back in the 1930’s there was a gangster film called “Angels with Dirty Faces” and it co-starred a group of kids called “The Dead End Kids” – most of these actors weren’t kids but because of their chemistry and camaraderie, they were quickly relegated to B-Movie status into, literally, DOZENS of films.  So much the same with “Ma and Pa Kettle.”

As was typical for the 1930’s and 40’s you had your “A” pictures which had big stars and ran two hours and then you had your “B” pictures which had smaller starts and ran for 90 minutes or less.  “The Egg and I” didn’t star “Ma & Pa” – it starred Fred McMurray in all his “Father Knows Best” sweetness and Claudette Colbert who played his long-suffering wife.  Before you can say “Green Acres” Fred and Claudette are moving out of their lavish lifestyle into a broken down farm house.  This was the generation of the wife does whatever the husband wants, doesn’t speak up, doesn’t have dreams or goals or wishes, and just tries to make everyone happy.

The transition from city girl to farmer girl doesn’t go well, but it’s an overall sweet story that you know will end up with a “tied-in-a-knot” happy bow at the end.  What I mostly like about watching these films from the studio system era, are those actors you may only see in classic films.  The father of George Bailey in “Wonderful Life” plays a great sheriff in “Egg and I.”  And, I have to say, I was nearly moved to tears when after their farm nearly burns down, all the towns people come out and give them stuff to re-build.

In “Ma and Pa Kettle - Go to Town” – the second film on the disc, the “Ma & Pa Kettles” take over their own series of films.  The collection I have has eight of them but it looks like there were nine total.  “Ma” is played by Marjorie Main a big woman and, I’ve heard, one who spent most of her time in the closet during her Hollywood career.  “Pa” is played by Percy Kilbride.  These are “simple folk” whose way of looking at things undermines all us “city folk” who get all discombobulated with all the trappings around us.  Plus they have 15 kids.

“Go to Town” appears to be their second solo adventure as the film starts off in some new home with all the modern conveniences like TV(!) and Pa has won a trip to New York.  In the mean time they need to hire a baby-sitter and a bank robber with $100K in a bag, decides to babysit while Ma and Pa unwittingly take the bag to New York and hand off to his buddy.

Of course hijinks/confusions/stolen bags/more confusions occur until all is right in the end.  Jim “Thurston Howell, III” Backus played one of the gangsters hungry for the money.

One of the curious things about the Kettle films is that they, supposedly, live in Cape Flattery, WA and Seattle is 100 miles away.  Like that bit of a shout-out.  Plus, their oldest son goes to WSU – GO COUGS!

I doubt, over the next six films or so, that I’ll have anything much to write about as these are all just enjoyable time-wasters good for a hearty laugh and not a “squish” or blood-letting to be found.

Evaluations

When 2013 hits in a few months, I will have worked in Law for 30 years.  It’s kind of hard to wrap my brain around a non-career career.  If I remember right, I started temping at Betts Patterson  & Mines on January 3^rd or 4^th of 1983.  Just coming off my job as a mall Santa at Aurora Village Mall.  This was going to be, well, different.  That’s for sure.

Over those nearly 30 years, I have had evaluations and given evaluations.  They’ve been called different things:  “Performance Evaluation, Annual Review, 30, 60, 90 day Evaluations, etc.” and these do a few things.  They force the Supervisor to see if the person is on-board, engaged, using their talents to the fullest and look forward to the future, and they force the employee to wrap their brain around what they accomplished the last year.  It’s also a great way to cut dead weight if the person just isn’t working out (30, 60, 90 day reviews are used for this).  I mean, really, if you don’t have a handle on this person within 90 days – and then they screw up?  Something’s wrong.

As the years have gone by, I’ve grown to hate evaluations – but they were a necessary evil – like flu shots.  Every year you had to have one.  And each place I worked, set them up differently.  Some were sprung on you in one day:  “Here’s your evaluation, read it over, tell me what you think – now let me tell you what I think...”  And some were handed to you a week or so in advance to, at least, give you some talking points to respond with.  But there’s something decidedly off-putting about evaluations.  It’s kind of a dog-and-pony show that mainly does the number one thing it HAS to do – and that’s cover the company’s ass.   It’s the first, really, of the long line of paper-trails that a company has to have in case there’s a dispute down the line.  I’m not saying they can’t be positive or, even, fun – but there’s a dynamic there that just doesn’t happen in everyday life.  You don’t say to neighbor:  “Hey, dude, remember, tomorrow night we’re going to go over how you’re mowing your lawn and the future of your cedar shingles.”  You don’t say to your wife:  “Here’s my thoughts on the last year – where you excelled and, well, where you could improve.  Give these a read and let me see your comments on Saturday after I clean the barbecue grill.”

Now, of course, if you’ve been part of an Annual Evaluation, you know that there’s really two parts.  Part 1 is that you need to come up with how YOU feel you’ve done.  This is awkward because you don’t want to put what you really want to put:  I’M AWESOME!!! and have to kind of self-evaluate with an objective eye which you can’t do anyway.  Sure, maybe you do know that you’re typing could be better and you spend a little too much time on the J. Crew website – but you’re not going to tell your immediate supervisor that.   And this is broken down in a scoring system of, Needs Improvement, Meets Expectations, Exceeds Expectations.  Every law firm I worked for had different titling and scoring, but it broke down, usually, to those three.

Part 2 is the part where your supervisor actually does the overall scoring with THEIR opinion if you NI, ME or EE.  And then there are options to type up notes and details as to why the grade is what it is.  This can then be used to break down what you get for a raise or, at Heller, what your holiday bonus even was.

Now, I don’t want to say that these are ALL BAD.  It can be a great liberating experience.  It’s also a way to judge where the employee is at this point in their employment and where they want to go and how you can help them get there.  So when I gave evaluations, I tried to make sure that they were a collaborative experience.  Where things can go horribly wrong is when the supervisor gives you a ME and you think, above everything, that you EE.  Well, if you do, you better have the details to back that up.

At Heller I went from giving evaluations (and getting evaluated) to just getting evaluated when I got out-sourced and demoted.  Prior to that demotion, I had good and bad experiences.  Probably the worst was when I was given no head start as to what my evaluation said, was brought into a room, forced to speed-read it while my boss stared at me and then had to come up with my arguments on the spot.  That was NOT a pleasant experience.

When I had to give evaluations I made sure there was only one rule to abide by and that was this:  NO SURPRISES.  When you’re evaluating someone, they should not be blindsided by some issue you had with them 6 months ago.  I’ve talked to Secretary after Secretary who were stunned when their attorney sprung on them something they did a few months prior – and didn’t talk to them about at the time.  Nothing undercuts an evaluation quicker then to think that this person who is evaluating you has been holding some grudge/anger/resentment/frustration for the past few months.

The other aspect of evaluations I had to think about was the type of employees I had.  I had a good mix of what I refer to as “transitional employees” and “long-timers.”  TE’s are people who are working with you for only a short while until they get married, or have a kid, or go to school or go on to their ultimate career goals.  LT’s are people who have “been there-done that” and are happy to be in this job.  It may not be a career, but they’re not looking to next year to move up to  that coveted Paralegal position, or ready to jump to that concert tour they’ve been practicing for.  They’re there and they’re, most likely, going to stay there.  You have to approach them differently.

When I landed at my current job, I was told, straight up, that they did not do annual evaluations and I can’t tell you how elated I was.  Basically I was told:  “If we don’t like the job you’re doing, we’ll tell you.  If we like the job you’re doing, you won’t hear anything.”  So, okay.  Finally, I’m being treated like the adult I am.  Expected to do a job, do it, get paid, go home.  Cool.

Then I noticed something....  After working here over four years there was this nagging little feeling like I was still “new” that I hadn’t made the job my own.  Certainly, out of the long time staff, I’m still just out of diapers, but there was an aspect of the job, a perception in my mind, that I had just landed in the file room – even though I had completely made it my own.

I tried to shake the feeling, the understanding, the weirdness of it.  Why was it, after four years, I felt like the “newbie?”  And I think the honest answer is that, after nearly 30 years and dozens of all types of evaluations, I’ve never had one here.  I’m not complaining, mind you, but maybe I need that:  “You need to improve here, you exceed here, you’re okay there.”  Maybe I need to see it in writing.  Maybe I need to have that awkward conversation and show them what I feel I’ve done and accomplished since sitting my butt in my chair.  Or...maybe I can just relax and enjoy the non-evaluation ride.

I WANTS ME SOME PUBLIC DOMAIN FILMS

My daughter was never really into toys.  Oh, sure, she had the standard cooking sets and a few stuffed animals and such but, growing up in a daycare, it wasn’t like she was jonesing for this or that.  There was one toy that she liked, though, and that was “Fashion Pollys.”  These toys were little dolls with rubber clothing and such and you could dress them and play with them and put them in their house or whatever.  Michelle wasn’t into Barbies, but she was into “Fashion Pollys.”  She had a large collection of these and really enjoyed playing with them.

One night we were at “Kay-Bee Toys” the mall and she was specifically looking for a certain “Polly” when she came across the one she wanted.  I saw her from the front of the store see the one she wanted and pick it up.  Even from forty feet I could see the excitement as she held the package and all the fun she would be having.

I felt similar the other day.

I love public domain films.  The first reason is that they’re, indeed, movies.  So I love my movies.  The second reason is that they’re cheap.  To understand the concept of public domain, think about a movie that someone made years ago that was copyrighted and paid for and people ran out to the local theatre and watched it.  Spent their .10, saw it as part of a double-feature, came home happy.  Well, over time, that film somehow lost its copyright.  Somehow it had fallen into the public domain which meant that no one owned it any more.  Anyone could take the film, show it, copy it, sell it...whatever.  You know why Shakespeare’s plays are done over and over and over again?  Well, beside the fact that they’re brilliant, they’re also in the public domain.  You don’t have to pay Bill, or any of his relatives a dime.  All those hundreds of free books on your Kindle?  Mark Twain, Louisa May Alcott, Charles Dickens?  Public Domain.

When I was growing up and got my first VCR, I was pumped.  I was going to record every single possible movie I could record.  I bought VHS tape after VHS tape and I’d load up on everything that was showing that pay channel.  Movies mostly.  Occasionally the special event (“Live Aid”) and when I didn’t have access to the movie channels, I’d wait for a “free weekend” and load up then, too.  When I’d rent a box from Viacom for a Mike Tyson boxing match, I’d spend the weekend recording the movies, too.  At a certain point I had amassed a collection of well over 3,000 movies.

Then the DVD took over.

It wasn’t long before someone realized they could make a buck with PD films and the new technology of the DVD.  And, before you could say “Road to Bali,” PD films were being released right and left and I stood at the front of the line.   The dollar tree would have double-feature films, sure they were crap but...THEY WERE A DOLLAR!  Target had them, Fred Meyer had them, movie stores had them.

Then came “Mill Creek Entertainment.”  They became THE PD film distributor.  Their methodology would be to sell 50 movie packs.  Yes.  FIFTY! movie packs.  Musicals, Westerns, “Classics,” Sci-Fi, Horror, etc.  By genre would could buy them.  Most of the time they were in the $20 range.  .40 per film.  For the cost of less than a Hershey Bar you could warm up next to Katherine Hepburn or Humphrey Bogart or Jesse Ventura or Christopher Lee or...

What about the films themselves?  You need to ask?  Really?  Okay.  The films really did run the gamut from classic films (“Nosferatu,” “The General,” “Road to Bali”) to absolute dreck (“Santa Claus Conquers the Martians,” etc.) and because they were in the PD, the quality was always a crapshoot, though Mill Creek always seemed to get some pretty good quality prints.

Now, knowing that just buying 50 pack after 50 pack was kind of insane, I decided to sit down and watch them.  Most of these were pretty quick time wasters (“Hercules and the Moon Men,” “Robot Monster”) but going into these with little or no concept of what they contained (other than who starred), I would be more pleasantly surprised than disappointed.  And don’t think that these films only came from 1920 or 1930.  Some are from the 1980’s and 1990’s.  Everything from “G” rated to “Unrated.”

Which brings me to Sunday.  I haven’t watched a lot of PD films recently.  I’ve been going through a collection of schlocky films off of Netflix.  Films like “The Teacher” – meh –

or even worse:  “Zombie Cop” with “Maximum Impact” – terrible TERRIBLE films, each barely over an hour in length.  But why, you ask, do I watch terrible films?

Well, the first thing is that I learn more watching terrible films.  I watched a great 62 minute film noir the other day entitled “High School Big Shot.”  Done very well.  Yes, acting wasn’t great.  Yes, the 11 p.m. heist of a million dollars from a safe was obviously shot during the middle of the day and used a “night” filter on the camera to give the appearance of night (note:  when you’re out at 11 p.m., you don’t often cast a shadow from the sun and/or moon).  But it’s so much easier for me to learn when I see how I could do things better.  When I watch “Saving Private Ryan” I’m so enthralled in the excellent story-telling and cinematography, I don’t have time or the wherewithal to think:  “Looks like he used a wider angle lens for this shot.  Interesting use of the POV of the soldier.”

On Sunday I had to run up to Target to check out a couple items and found that they were selling some “Mill Creek Entertainment” collections for $8.99  (less than .20 a film).  Knowing that I’m getting a portable DVD player for Father’s Day (I bought it for myself, but will be unwrapping it on Sunday) – I sensed in me the excitement of, once again, delving back into cheesy films from the bygone area.  My excitement, though not as pure and fun as Michelle’s with her “Fashion Polly,” was still there.

I loves me some PD films.

MY NAME IN A COMPUTER SOMEWHERE

The e-mail came lateish in the day.  Another Records Guy had sent a panicked e-mail about Linkedin getting hacked and you must change your passwords!  And...and...AND!!  Lucky for me...I don’t have a Linkedin account.  Or do I?  I can’t recall because I never use it.  I get Linkedin requests all the time but I don’t pay any attention to them.  Why?  Because every time I attempt to accept them, or link them, or whatever it is you’re supposed to do – it never ever works for me.  So...why bother?  So I don’t.

But this got me thinking about a friend and a story from years ago.

We used to have a neighbor by the name of Katie.  She was a great gal who had a scaredy-cat German Sheppard by name of Sarah.  Sarah wouldn’t hurt a fly and would run scared the moment you said “boo” to her.  Miriam and I would take Sarah for walks and she’d get many a treat when I’d barbecue ribs as I’d toss the bones over the fence.

Sarah did do ONE thing particularly well – and that was to scare the UPS guy.  Sarah could look mean and vicious if one didn’t know her and since the UPS guy was deemed a threat – Sarah would bark and snarl and he’d deliver Katie’s UPS packages to our house.

Since, at the time, Miriam worked out of our house – the UPS guy began to just show up on our doorstep and hand us off Katie’s packages.  He wouldn’t leave Katie a note, he’d just ask us to call her.  And, soon, we’d get packages for all the other neighbors, too.  We were a non-paid subcontracted UPS drop box.

Now for probably most of you readers, you might get a package maybe once a week.  Once ever couple weeks.  With Katie and her QVC addiction – the packages came on a near daily basis.  UPS guy shows up, Miriam signs for the package, Miriam calls Katie, Katie comes home from work and walks over and gets package.

As the years wore on, this scenario worked to near perfection and though it inhibited our day a little – at least Miriam got to interact with someone who didn’t need help going potty or wouldn’t give her grief about not eating their broccoli.

One day, though, things took a sketchy turn.  Katie came over to pick up a package and explained to us that QVC had sent her to collections for not paying her bill.  That, for some reason, the auto withdraw account didn’t have enough funds to cover the purchase, and it would be a few days until this got figured out.  No worry, Katie had another account that she would tap into but, still, we might go two or three days between getting packages and she just wanted to give us the heads up.

After Katie left, Miriam was incensed!  How could QVC do this!  This woman was keeping them in business!  She was a loyal customer!  I’m going to write them a letter!!  I had to laugh.  For some reason Miriam seemed to think that QVC was the local grocery store, or the local convenience store, or the sweet old guy at the Farmer’s Market who lets you eat a couple grapes.  What she didn’t seem to grasp is that QVC didn’t out-and-out go after Katie because they hate her – it’s simply that when her bill didn’t get paid, the computers do what computers do and a letter of collection was sent.  Her name popped up on a computer and the process went into play...simple.  No malice intended.  It’s a company doing what a company does.

When Miriam was growing up she had a small store up the hill from her house where she’d get candy and “ice cubes” (dice).  I had the “Vita-Del Market” in Ballard (I don’t know if it still exists) where I’d go after school and buy candy.  Then there was the dairy store – which was even closer, where I’d get tootsie pops and RC-Cola, and if the cap said you got .25 back, you got .25 back.  The guy who worked there – I didn’t know his name – got to know me.  Years later he worked at a Radio Shack in Mountlake Terrace and I ran into him at a Fred Meyer once.

You don’t create relationships through QVC or Linkedin or, even, Facebook.  You create those relationships over fences and scared German Sheppards and doing favors for your neighbors.

Michelle worked for years at Rogers Market and I was reminded of this a few months ago as I was up there buying something and an elderly person came in and said something to one of the managers along the lines of:  “Can I return this?  I don’t have a receipt.”  And he said:  “sure.”  As the old guy wandered off to find something to buy the manager turned to a co-worker and said:  “It’s fine, that’s so-and-so from the local assisted living place.”

This doesn’t count all the times Michelle would mention:  “There goes a customer....I saw a customer at...I ran into a customer the other day...”

Katie succumbed to cancer last year after she had long moved away to Puyallup with her husband Bob.  I’m sure she was still ordering stuff from QVC a few weeks before she passed away.

MY (tenuous) CONNECTION TO THE BEASTIE BOYS

I like all kinds of music.  You name it, I probably have it.  No, not too obscure, mind you.  I’m not on the cutting edge of who headlined SXSW – but I have everything from Frank Sinatra, to 1920’s Jazz, to Def Leppard, Rolling Stones, Enya, Melissa Etheridge, Bach, Queen, Prince, Christian Singer Larry Norman, even Rod Rodgers (known as the Ed Wood of music).  Out of my collection I simply don’t have a lot of Hip-Hop or Rap.  Okay, actually, none.  Also I’m fresh out of Punk Rock – but I do have Grunge Rock. 

I don’t know why I don’t have any Rap or Hip-Hop.  It just never “stuck” with me for some reason and my friends didn’t either give me their music or say:  “Dude, listen to this song...”  I remember in high school when a band by the name of “Marillion” made the rounds and I was told by friends:  “You’ve GOT to listen to this album!”  And we’d run down to Tower Records (out of business) and find the British fold-out album that was $20.  We’d go back to Paul’s basement and crank it up and be enveloped by the artsy twenty minute songs.  Maybe I didn’t run in the Hip-Hop crowd or listen to Hip-Hop since I was mostly into “Classic Rock.”

                                                                           

When Adam Yauch, member of the “Beastie Boys” recently died, there were dozens of postings on Facebook.  Articles in magazines, profiles, everyone spoke very highly of him.  Even my bestest friends.  And I felt like I missed out on a great segment of musical history.  Sure, I liked “You’ve got to fight...” but that’s all I really knew of the Beastie Boys.  And it’s probably one of those things where I mention that song and the other person rolls their eyes and says:  “You like THAT?  You should hear such-and-such song, on side two of such-and-such album.”

And though I had only heard one song by the Beastie Boys (and their most popular song at that), I did feel like I had a connection to them, albeit tenuous at best.

This most recent Saturday morning, after helping a friend with a screenplay, I was running some scenarios over in my head.  When you write scripts you have to think of logical ways to get the story across.  You can’t have a guy who’s never thrown a punch in his life suddenly kicking ass like Jackie Chan in his prime.  It’s why I laugh uproariously when I watch the original “Footloose” and suddenly, when the dance happens, all these kids know how to dance REALLY REALLY good.  Illogical moments like that kill a film for me.

It was in the half-sleep/half-awake state that I remembered my connection.  When I was working at the law firm of Miller Nash, one of the attorneys there (now a judge) specialized in copyright infringement laws.  One of our clients was Nintendo and, at one point, we had boxes and boxes of either bootleg games, or discs.  Some of the games were for the American 8-bit system.  Some were for the Japanese system (Famicom).  But they had to be dealt with and stored and that was my job.  My first couple weeks on the job, we had a case where there were knock-off “Troll” dolls.  You know, those dolls that are usually naked, with big eyes and hair like Don King.  In the conference room there was a large board with dozens of illegal (and legal) troll dolls strapped to it like some weird toy torture fetish.



Well...we represented the Beastie Boys.  Or, most likely, the record company that represented the Beastie Boys.  I’m pretty certain the Beastie Boys had never EVER heard of Miller Nash.  And, due to copyright infringement issues – someone had collected knock-off/fake/crap Beastie Boys tour shirts....and sent them to us.

Boxes and boxes and boxes of HUNDREDS of Beastie Boy tour shirts.  Evidence.  Dang.  Twenty, thirty, boxes.  Filled to the brim with shirts.  Some were done well on good fabric, multi color.  Some were slapped together on paper thin shirts with non coordinating color.  It was a myriad of bootleg t-shirt wear.



And...what were we to do with these?  Hold on to them.  And the twenty-to-thirty boxes got tucked away on shelves and corners and hiding places.  We would need them...eventually.

Eventually finally hit, or the parties settled out of court, or people went to jail or something and then we were left with hundreds of Beastie Boy shirts.  What to do now.

Realizing I didn’t want to box them up and send them offsite (to never be dealt with again), I was told to do what I was told to eventually do with the Nintendo knock-offs:  Destroy the suckers.  But...but...these were perfectly good shirts!  (okay, some were)

After some discussion with the client, and based on my suggestion, it was finally determined that we could give them to an organization that provided clothing to homeless shelters.  At least they’d do some good.  Plus we could take as many was we’d like.

Once I sent out the e-mail, I was surprised to find Attorneys in their mid 50’s and secretaries more akin to Neil Diamond tribute bands, rummaging through the stacks of shirts:  “Oh, this is a nice one.”  “I like this one.”  And happily running off with half-a-dozen shirts.  I took 10 or 15 myself and gave some to friends and then boxed up what was left and gave them to the homeless organization.  There are probably still homeless people out there wearing these shirts.

And that is my tenuous relationship to the Beastie Boys.  “You’ve got fight for your right...”