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May 2007
At the Movies: ‘Zoo’
The movie goes behind the scenes to tell the story of a group of men in rural Washington who practice ‘zoophilia,’ the act of sharing love with nonhuman animals. Now do you understand his nerves? I was happy to oblige, as was Tami, and what we saw was a film that is nothing short of visually breathtaking though often obsessed with its poetry of image and less with its narrative or purpose.
In July 2005, the Seattle Times broke a story about a man, named ‘Mr. Hands’ for the purpose of this documentary/re-creation, who died from a perforated colon following a sexual encounter with his stallion ‘Strut.’ The LA Times’ Kenneth Turan reports that the stories about the death were the most-read in the Seattle paper’s history. But Devor wanted to tell not the graphic story of animal-sex obsessed men and their acts of ‘love’ but reveal these men as living, caring human beings who happened to have rather twisted sexual proclivities.
The film opens with a shot of coalminers’ lights emerging from a dark shaft, an image that seems symbolic of the fact the Devor was endeavoring to bring these men and their once-buried perversions to the surface for more thoughtful analysis. Not a documentary in the truest sense, the film uses voice-overs from three fellow ‘zoos’ (the moniker given to zoophiles) along with dramatic, and often nonverbal, re-enactment of Mr. Hands’ and his cadre’s ritual bonding with their animals.
Shot mostly in the Pacific Northwest, and washed in enchanting blues and greens, the cinematography of Sean Kirby is some of the best I have seen in years. There is a strange disconnect with elegiac lighting that looks like it could have been painted by Caravaggio and the perverse nature of the actual story. Devor does not use graphic imagery of sex with animals and strays from discussing in too great of detail the physical acts engaged by these men and what they call their lovers. Instead, he paints a very real picture of troubled men from a wide array of socio-economic backgrounds (from truck driver to biospace engineer) who have come to realize that they simply relate better to animals than they do humans. As Coyote, the only zoo who actually physically appears in the film (the other two living zoos lent only their voices to the production), says early in the film, “I don’t need a high level of emotional interaction, be it human or otherwise.” He defends his passion for the animals by saying “you’re connecting with another living being who is very happy to participate.”
As you come to realize that neither the men nor horses were hurt in any of the acts portrayed in the film, for a split second you catch yourself wondering what the big deal is, such is the beauty of the film’s imagery in lulling you into this ethereal world of shadows. Then you remember, ‘Wait, these guys are having sex with horses!” In the end, the film does not attempt to manipulate viewers into seeing these men as sympathetic characters, it simply offers that they are well-intentioned perverts with a love for animals that anyone who is not ‘zoo’ could never fully understand.
As we briefly discussed the movie on the way out of the theater, we came to the conclusion that the subject matter was not anything we would ever think of again. And this is kind of the problem with the film. The choice of subject is so controversial and surreal and told in such abstractions thanks to its majestic visual beauty that you wonder why the filmmaker even bothered. Did he just want to show off his ability to create gorgeous images or was he actually hoping we would come away with a better understanding of these men? We were mildly perplexed, if only briefly - look, we all are human and we all have perversions, so who are we to cast aspersions at people who live such different lives than us? But, of course, we always came back to the thought - Come on…they’re having sex with HORSES!
If you want to see an exceptionally made movie with little to offer in the way of narrative (and guffaw at the sexual peccadilloes of others) check out “Zoo” while it’s still at the Dobie. But don’t go alone. You don’t want people thinking you’re a freak. Right, “Sam”?
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Pink benefit tonight at Café Mundi
Now Pink has decided to take the love on the road, as the project is moving to Portland, Ore. In an effort to raise money for the project, Pink is having a bike-in movie and live auction tonight at Café Mundi. They will screen a 10-minute documentary about Pink, along with ‘Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure’ and ‘Pretty in Pink.’ Additionally, there will be a wonderful auction of items from local artists and businesses, including Eastside Pedal Pushers, Cru Wine Bar, Factory People and many more.
Pink Bike-In Movie and Live Auction
Tuesday, May 29
7:30 p.m.
Café Mundi (map)
$5 donation suggested
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Emo music wants to eat your children. Film at eleven.
[from ABC4] “ABC 4 News is sounding the alarm about a teen phenomenon sweeping the nation. It’s something we found most teens know about, but few parents had any clue of. It’s called EMO CULTURE.
“Our news team began their study of emo culture on the Internet, where we quickly found hundreds of sites dedicated to teaching kids what emo is and how to be it. One site instructs, ‘dye your hair black. Style it in the gunshot wound and never be happy.’”
I had to re-read the URL multiple times to make sure I was not reading a story from The Onion. I don’t know if it is because Utah is so culturally and geographically isolated from the rest of the world that they would just now be catching wind of this emo subculture or if everyone just lives with their head in the sand there. What’s even more alarming is the way in which they paint a drastically macabre and ludicrous portrait of a rather innocuous musical culture. As a hilarious footnote to the story, they direct concerned parents to Wikipedia for more information about what “emo” is.
The fact that the “discovery” is painted in such an alarmist fashion would be hilarious if it wasn’t so dadgum reprehensible. “Happiness is a sin to emo culture,” the article reports. “In a state where the number two cause of teen death is suicide, experts say parents need to know emo culture and understand it.” It’s like my grandfather is writing about heavy metal or something. Someone get Tipper Gore on the phone before She Wants Revenge kills another desperately lonely and isolated Utah teen!
Some investigative journalists in Salt Lake better start warning the kids about the danger of drinking Coca-Cola and eating pop rocks before somebody gets hurt.
You have to watch the video here. It SHATTERS the unintentional comedy scale. Must be a sweeps month.
(Photo of She Wants Revenge (c) AP.)
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‘The Bachelor’ Recap: Season finale
And, now, for no good reason, this…
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‘The Bachelor’: Episode No. 7 recap
From the previews, it appears that type of life has less to do with dealing with odd hours, understanding that the Navy comes first and being a good mom, and more to do with jumping off of waterfalls and eating sushi. Sounds like a pretty easy gig.
Andy takes all three ladies (separately, of course, this is the final three) to the site of the USS Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor to start the weekend of frivolity. Apparently, producers felt it was important to show some solemnity before we got to all the booze and breasts. Each is dutifully touched by the sentiment, and this is the only scene we get that has anything to do with the U.S. Navy. So much for Andy’s proclamation that it is “all about being a U.S. Naval officer.” That stuff doesn’t play on TV, pal, sorry.
In an interesting development, Winnie makes it quite clear that she wants to be “here at the end.” Apparently, the change from frigid D.C. to the sunny confines of the Aloha State has brought about a change in our young front-runner. The couple while away the sunset drinking champagne and talking about how much they make each other laugh. Apparently, the laughter and authentic enjoyment these two feel while in each other’s company is being saved for the director’s cut DVD.
Back at the resort, Andy marvels at Winnie’s beauty, admitting that he loved her tomboy side, but to see her at dinner all dressed up, he feels like he’s a king and she’s his queen. There seems to be a very patriarchal and antiquated theme in the way Andy thinks about the male-female relationship, a feeling of ownership. Overwhelmed by Winnie’s beauty and candor regarding her growing feelings, Lt. Love Boat does his best Mr. Roarke and offers Winnie a key to the Fantasy Suite. She accepts, and the couple retreats to the Jacuzzi bath tub for the night. In their bathing suits.
Next up on the love merry-go-round is Danielle (“Crude Attempts”). General Goofball and Crude Attempts take a boat trip in which we learn that dolphins may be Crude Attempt’s favorite animal. Fascinating. She professes that the experience is a dream come true for her. Really? Ever since childhood, or even as a woman in your 20s, the dream you’ve always had is of being in the final three on a reality dating program? Surrounded by cameras? With your imminent expulsion from Fantasy Island casting a pall over everything you do? Dream big, ladies. Shame on you, ABC.
Apparently, Andy still has his skepticism, too, as he has reserved a third seat at their beachside dinner for, you guessed it: a psychic. A woman then shows up with a deck of regular playing cards. Yikes. Crude Attempts tries to act excited by the mystery of it all, but you’ve got to feel for the girl. How would you like to have your life’s fate decided by a woman who looks like she just popped over from her smoke break as a $5-table blackjack dealer at Harrah’s Kauai? This second in a long line of soothsayers in Crude Attempts’ life sees that she has a little sadness in her past and that she could be feeling apprehension. Yet another pearl of uncanny wisdom from a fortune teller. You mean to tell me that she could see that a woman who has gone on TV to find a husband and is almost 30 might have had enough life experience to endure sadness and be feeling just a tad apprehensive? What with the cameras and strangers (including Andy) staring at her? Oh, and the two other women. Shocking.
After they part ways with Miss Cleo, Hervé Villechaize comes out and escorts the couple to the Fantasy Suite. It’s classic watching Andy feign amazement at the suite after spending the previous night in an almost identical room with a different woman. Once inside, Crude Attempts engages Andy in small talk about how many kids he would like, which brings out the sex tiger in Andy. Nothing like children talk to get ol’ Andy’s motor running.
The final overnight date belongs to Bevin (“Salty Dog”). The couple hikes through a rainforest, wherein they are amazed to find it raining, and Andy asks Salty Dog if she would love to live there with him. Wow. As the kids say, I guess I won’t hate the player, but Salty Dog had the look in her eyes as if she thought Ed McMahon was gonna walk out of the forest with a big prop check and balloons would fall from the trees. No, Salty Dog, you have not yet won; Andy just wanted to keep you on your toes. He also wants to get you in a bikini, so the couple goes diving off of a miniature cliff into a pool of water. What transpires next is a bit of groping that resembles something you might see on a soft-core porn channel produced by Hallmark. Salty Dog admits that she is ready to take her life to the next level and get married (again) and have kids (for the first time, as far as we know).
With all of the dates having gone as well as Lt. Love Sick could have hoped, he is terribly conflicted. With a run along the beach not doing the trick to clear his mind, Andy calls in his friend Karch Kiraly to play sounding board. Actually, dude’s name is “Gatsby.” As any good consigliere would, Gatsby asks Andy which woman he’d like to see welcoming him at the finish line of an Ironman triathlon. Andy is perplexed, but he feels his friend has honed in on what this search is all about and admits that he wants a woman who will be there with his kids at the finish line and revel in his glory. The whole thing is like some “Father Knows Best” for the LiveStrong generation dream sequence. Gatsby seems confident Andy will make the right choice but is adamant in insisting that he pick “Daisy.”
All good things must come to an end, unfortunately, and Andy lines up the women on the beach for the penultimate rose ceremony. After he offers a rose to Salty Dog and Winnie Cooper, it is curtains for Crude Attempts, who was last seen on the Wikki Wikki shuttle at the Honolulu airport mumbling something about psychics and dead people.
Next week’s big finale promises a bit of intrigue as Lt. Love Shark takes the final two contestants back to his home of Lancaster, Pa., where it seems his conservative family is entranced by Winnie Cooper’s beauty and completely nonplussed by Salty Dog having grown up practicing the B’Hai faith. Oh, Salty Dog, will your delicious and confounding secrets never end?
“Miss” any of the previous episodes? Check out my recaps here: Episode #6 | Episode #5 | Episode #4 | Episode #3 | Episode #2
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The M.O. Interview: The Frank Mills
Discussed: Training, philosophy, Peter Sellers, “America’s Funniest Home Videos,” monkeys and Morocco.
(Note of disclosure: Last year I took an improv class taught by Madorsky, and May was a volunteer contributor to Austinist during my tenure as co-editor.)
When and how did The Frank Mills form?
Dave Buckman and Bob McNichol: We grew out of a group called Tight, which was Jen Cargill, Erin Plischke and Mac Antigua, who also performed with Massive in Houston, along with Rachel, Dave, Erika and Bob. Once Mac moved to Minnesota, and Jen and Erin back to Chicago, we decided to start fresh with a new name: the name of a chubby composer of an international No. 1 instrumental hit song.
You all have a wealth of training and experience; can you speak to your different backgrounds?
DB & BM: Rachel has a strong acting background, had performed at Second City Cleveland, and did improv for years before that here in Austin. Erika had done some acting and production here in Austin before moving to Chicago to study and perform at Second City, IO, Annoyance, and ComedySportz. Dave worked at The Second City in Chicago and Boom Chicago in Amsterdam as a director and teacher, and used to direct plays before that, in addition to performing and writing sketch and improv for years and years. Bob studied and performed in Chicago at IO, Annoyance, and Second City, and played a complex Alfalfa in a 1985 production of “A Little Rascals Christmas.”
What was the idea behind your union and the mission of the troupe? You guys have a unique style and I am curious if you knew how you were going to approach writing and performing from the beginning or if it was (catch phrase alert) more organic?
DB & BM: I think we just want to do stuff that would make us laugh, so usually things that are real/true, things that are absurd, some satire. If you come at it from an honest way, you can pretty much say anything you want. Off stage, we want to bring sketch and improv to an audience that might not think themselves fans of sketch or improv. With regards to writing and performing, I don’t think anything too calculated could not feel contrived. It’s really just four people thinking about what’s funny to them more than anything else.
I have seen you perform both sketch and improv and wonder how you feel about the different art forms. Do you prefer one? How do they inform one another?
DB: I love improv. I love it. There is nothing in the world like knowing you have the last line (the “out”) to the show and then you say it and then the lights go out right when you expected them to. There is no drug that gives you a better high than that.
Sketch is a harder beast for me. It’s a little presumptuous to try to assume you know what is funny and then present it as such. I admire stand-ups for being able to do that and shrug it off if it doesn’t go well. That being said, I can watch and admire “SNL,” “MAD,” “The State,” “Kids in The Hall” and “Mr. Show” for hours and hours.
Sketch and improv go hand in hand because they complement each other’s skills so well. Improv helps when you are writing and can’t get to the next beat. It teaches you to say “yes” to any path. A sketch background helps when you are improvising when you can’t get out of the scene with dignity. Sketch teaches you that everything has the potential to be funny as long as everyone is on board and is looking for the game in a scene. I am always surprised when I go back to doing a play how much both improv and sketch have developed me as a director or actor. They’ve taught me to always be present with my scene partners while maintaining a sense of what the audience is invested in.
BM: I like improv better — I love sketch, but improv is more lust-like. Improv informs sketch in that you can use improv to generate sketch ideas (in addition to just writing). We’ve gone back to past improv shows and honed some of those scenes down into written sketches for this show.
say anything you want.”
How do you approach writing a sketch show? Do you improvise scenes and let that lead to the development of a script or do you sit around a table going back and forth, seeing which jokes work?
DB: I think at first we had no idea how to write together. I had directed dozens of sketch shows, and had even put a MADtv packet together, but this year had been the first time I actually wrote anything for me to be in, with my own voice. So we went about the writing from every angle we could. We would meet once or twice a week and pitch ideas or come with fully written scenes, and then we would just sit around a table with some chips and salsa and cookies and shoot the bull for two hours. Sometimes great ideas would fly out of those based on news stories we’d heard or relating actual experiences from that day. For the most part we would assign someone to take the lead and fully realize the idea to paper and then we take turns editing the pieces. For example, Bob will come up with an idea and write half a page. Erika will take it and draw it out to a 3-page script. Rachel will punch it up. Et cetera.
We also take improvised scenes from our show and transcribe them and edit them down. Our Frontera Fest improvised show about Passover is in this show. Our Out of Bounds show from last year about a snuff film is in this show. There are some others being worked on for future shows. A world of thanks goes to the Hideout and Coldtowne for giving us a stage throughout April to improvise out these scenes once or twice in front of an audience.
BM: All of that. Some stuff from improv shows gets sketched out, and other times each of us will bring in anything from a quick idea to a fully fleshed out scene to work on as a group. We’ll talk it out for awhile, or one of us will try to knock parts of it out… it’s really different for each scene. In terms of the show itself, much of it we’d already tried out in front of an audience in one form or another, and then re-tooled.
“Winning Dirty: A Sketch Show About the Things People Will Do to Get Their Way.” A very intriguing name; how did you come up with the name and theme? Is there a narrative thread in the show or is that just a clever name?
DB: The “Classy (expletive) Show” we did in February, which the workshop for this show, was all about, “Let’s have some class.” When the show was finished and we were going through the scenes that did not get cut in March, we saw that the thesis was more about the exact opposite. It seemed a lot more enjoyable to come at this from the opposite point of view: winning shamelessly by any means necessary. It seemed funnier and easier to satirize. Bob and Erika went on vacation in Marfa for a weekend and while they were gone, I got the word “winners” stuck in my head. I forget the rest of the story.
BM: There’s no real narrative thread, as something a bit more thematic. A few characters and scenes run through the show, but we’d really just written some stuff that fit that general idea. We tossed around some names that would fit that common thread — Dave came up with “Winning Dirty” — and then we wrote more around that.
How long did it take you to write and perfect the show? How much rehearsal have you done for this show in particular?
DB: We started writing “Classy (expletive) Show” in January. I took some time in February and March to be in Yellow Tape Construction’s “I Am Not Tartuffe” and then we hit the ground running in late March and April. Although, some scenes have been with us for a while. Gay Marriage is from Bob and Erika’s Frontera Fest Show in Feb ‘06. and Dodge Landgrab is from Tight: (expletive) from summer ‘06.
BM: Some of the stuff goes back to a McNichol and May show from Frontera 2006, some of it was written this week, but mostly in the last few months. I don’t think it would ever be considered perfect — having a few weeks to perform this allows us to continue to tweak it throughout the run. We’ve rehearsed off and on since the end of last year, and ramped up into we-gotta-get-our-(expletive)-together mode in the last few weeks before the show.
I imagine all of you could be performing in bigger cities with a longer history of comedy and stage performance: LA, Chicago , NY…how did you decide on living and performing in Austin?
DB: Rachel and I were in Cleveland and were planning on going to L.A. until we realized that we were in our mid-thirties and we didn’t want to be fighting 20-year-olds for the privilege of being Ashton Kutcher’s personal assistant and wiping his (expletive) for him just to get our foot in a door we didn’t really know if we wanted to walk through. We just wanted to perform, but we also wanted sun, and an arts community. So it was either Miami, L.A. or Austin. Rachel had lived here before and I had visited in the late ’90s during the Big Stinkin’ Improv Festival. It was an easy choice. Once here, Shana Merlin, Shannon McCormick and Andy Crouch were very welcoming in getting us started.
BM: We knew a few people doing improv down here already, and Erika had lived here before and done some acting and production. Really, we’d just been in Chicago for a number of years — we love that place, but wanted to find a place that was little closer to our lifestyle, moneystyle, weatherstyle, quesostyle, etc. It was here or Morocco.
What are your thoughts about the Austin comedy scene in general, and where do you see it heading?
DB: The comedy scene is very strong right now. Matt Bearden and Dave Huntsberger and Kerri Lendo are really, really good stand-ups. Seth Cockfield and Lisa Delarios are awesome too. Sketch and comedic film pockets are popping up left and right. YellowTape Construction Company has a rogue’s gallery of some top notch comedic actors. Slam Poets have started coming to improv shows instead of, well, slamming us. The best part is that a lot of those different pockets are starting to intersect in variety shows and local films.
The improv scene exploded in the last two years partly because there are so many different styles being blended together. It’s really a unique improv scene in that there are short-formers, long-formers and narrative improvisers, veterans and students all sharing the same two stages. That is unheard of anywhere else in the country where cities and styles are usually segregated. I am hoping that Mike Judge and QT and Richard Linklater start to take notice in what is happening in local comedy. There is such a wealth of local talent.
BM: I wish I knew more stand-up. I’ve seen Lisa DeLarios, Seth Cockfield, and Kerri Lendo — they’re all great, and I know there’s a ton more I need to see from what I’ve heard and read. Improv and sketch seem to be really taking off in terms of audience somewhat, but definitely in terms of performers and students. It’s exciting.
what local sketch is and what it can be.”
Does Austin get respect outside of Texas as being a good town for comedy?
DB: Probably not as much as it should. But people are starting to take notice. From the improv world there was a bit of a black stain on Austin after the Big Stinkin’ Improv Festival folded without paying any of the teachers. But in the last year or so, the buzz is getting stronger and stronger. As more heavyweights come down for Out of Bounds or swing by town and perform for a night while they are on vacation or shooting something…the more they comment on how much fun the scene feels.
BM: It seems pretty well-known in terms of stand-ups, for both touring stand-ups to stop here as well as being a great home base. But for improv or sketch, generally, I don’t think it’s a lack of respect as much as a lack of awareness. Slowly, as groups visit festivals in other cities and other groups visit here, people are starting to notice that there’s a bit going on here.
What are your comedic influences, and beyond that, what do you just enjoy laughing at, whether it be a writer, a comic, movie, social stigma, etc?
DB: “Stripes,” SNL, and Howard Stern really informed my sense of humor as a teenager and they still make me laugh very, very hard. Other than that…there are three things that will always be funny to me: old people cursing, monkeys (doing anything) and Asian babies falling down and crying. Racist? Maybe. But watch “America’s Funniest Home Videos” with the sound turned off and tell me it’s not a little funnier than everything else.
BM: I’m as much a sucker for British satire as I am for a well-thought-out fart sound. Outside of the real influences of family, friends, etc., I’m influenced by any of the usual suspects: US/UK sketch shows/sitcoms/etc. — people like Peter Sellers, Armando Iannucci, Cantinflas, Phil Silvers, Peter Cook. I like older stuff as much as newer stuff.
Any last words on “Winning Dirty”? Why should people come see it?
DB: I think that the show is solid and dark and edgy and fun and can really change people’s notions of what local sketch is and what it can be.
BM: We need you to help us pay rent on this theater. In return, we promise a concerted attempt at humor in your direction.
“Winning Dirty: A Sketch Show About the Things People Will Do to Get Their Way”
Every Friday and Saturday in May at 8 pm Blue Theater [map]
Tickets: $15
For reservations, call 512.415.2896
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Damien Rice concert review
The modern-day Irish troubadour opened his show at the Bass Concert Hall sitting alone at a piano under a soft spotlight, as he played the eerie ballad “9 Crimes” from last year’s album “9.” The amazing acoustics of the venue gave power to the haunting vocals that, in this setting, seemed to resemble a tortured man emptying his soul in a darkened castle in Killarney.
As the opener’s last notes drifted into the rafters, a thin screen slowly lowered at the front of the stage as the kick drum of Tomo Osander quickly changed the initial mood of the evening. Backlit and projected onto the screen in giant silhouette, Rice and his band launched into a raucous rendition of “Me, My Yoke and I.” The enhanced production value of the number, and the evening, compared with Rice’s previous live performances in Austin, stood in stark contrast to the vulnerability of the opening number.
Rice then treated the audience to the subtle beauty of “Volcano” and “Older Chests” from his debut gem “O,” along with “The Animals Were Gone” from his latest release, before launching into a more upbeat and rocking set than that to which most of his fans have become accustomed. Lacking the angelic backing vocals of his former musical partner, Lisa Hannigan, Rice leaned heavily on the modulated sounds of his condenser microphone and ample feedback and looping.
As opposed to years past, when he was known to chastise a talkative crowd, Rice engaged the audience midway through the set with back stories to various songs, sharing his thoughts on love lost, the cathartic beauty of letting go and the realization that life is an endeavor most fully realized in the present and not the past.
The 800-pound gorilla in the room, or more to the point, the 120-pound Irish lass not in the room, was Hannigan. Rice explained to the crowd that the vocalist was in Ireland working on her own songs and “something more beautiful than what she can contribute to this (his current band).”
Although the lack of Hannigan’s ethereal vocals at times left the music lacking, it allowed Rice’s art to reside in a more corporeal realm, a place much better suited to fight (and play with) his demons.
As with previous American tours, Rice was backed by the cohesive rhythm section of Osander and bassist Shane Fitzsimons, along with cellist Vyvienne Long, who had her moment in the spotlight when she took the piano alone onstage for a delicate tongue-in-cheek rendition of the Flaming Lips’ “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots.”
Following an unmiked “Cannonball” to close the set, Rice returned for an encore that included a staged send-up of his painful “Cheers, Darlin’,” a song penned to an unattainable woman. As Rice sipped wine and intentionally slurred each successive line to the song like Peter O’Toole at a wedding before sauntering offstage, it became clear that while he still acknowledges the pain love can make us suffer, he has learned to do so with a wink and a smile, a message that resonated soundly with the audience.
In the words of fellow Irishman Jonathan Swift, “We are so fond on one another because our ailments are the same.”
(Image taken from Rice’s MySpace page.)
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‘The Bachelor’: Episode #6 recap
Please tell me it’s almost over. Please.
In related Bachelor news: [Houston Chronicle] “A principal has resigned after being reprimanded for allowing a teacher to tape episodes of the reality TV show “The Bachelor” while school was in session.”
“Miss” any of the previous episodes? Check out my recaps here:
Episode #5 | Episode #4 | Episode #3 | Episode #2
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Houston Rockets left with more questions than answers
The Utah Jazz is my least-favorite team in the history of the NBA. The Rockets have always been my favorite. So, you can imagine how little I was looking forward to what I saw as an inevitable loss by the Rockets at home against the hard-nosed, dirty style of the Jazz (not to mention their flawless execution).
I was excited when the Rockets got T-Mac four years ago, only because I thought it would provide some fun and excitement (and a name) to the Rockets, but I was also disappointed in that I knew we would not win a championship for another 10 years. T-Mac is probably one of the top 10 talents in the league (at least he was at the time, probably still a top 20 talent) but he is not even in the top 50 in killer instinct or that “it” that winners have. It was obvious when trading for him that he would have to be the one to take the Rockets to the top of the mountain, and there’s no way he can do that. Ever. So, he improved the team, made them more interesting and fun to watch but did not get the Rockets any closer to a title, and he won’t. You don’t find that “it” after a decade in the league.
Only seven times since 2001 has a team lost a series after being up 2-0. T-Mac was a member of three of those seven losing teams. Not a good stat to have on your record.
Of course, all the blame can not rest at T-Mac’s feet. Sure he didn’t drive the basket in the final four minutes of the game, after scoring lay-ups at will earlier, and he dribbled the ball for eight seconds when Houston was down four with only 19 seconds to play and then did not foul after scoring. But he did have 29 points and 13 assists, but those numbers mean nothing when they come in a losing effort. If Yao, who averaged five turnovers a game in the playoffs, could not take an entry pass without turning the ball over (another story in and of itself), then T-Mac needed to refuse to give the ball to Juwan Howard for a weak 18-foot jumper or one of his underperforming guards. Take the ball to the rack, get fouled or score. The Rockets were in the bonus for the last six minutes of the game. There is no other option. Force the issue. Of course, the fact that Jeff Van Gundy could not design an offensive scheme to save his life might have added to T-Mac’s woes. The fact that the Rockets apparently don’t understand the words “box out” also greatly contributed to the collapse.
OK, I said it wasn’t all T-Mac’s fault, so I guess I will focus on a few other problems. If you would have told me that a team whose two best guards were Luther Head and Rafer Alston would win 50+ games, I would have told you to enjoy your next NORML meet-up. Unless the Rockets get an all-star quality point guard who can penetrate and create off of the dribble, and a good power forward who can lock down the Western Conference’s big men and fight for rebounds, the Rockets will not advance during T-Mac’s tenure. I have been amused at how columnists have lauded retiring general manager Carroll Dawson with such praise. Sure, Dawson trimmed some of the roster fat; Howard is a serviceable option at power forward; and I loved the trade for Shane Battier, even though he did not make one three-pointed in the fourth quarter, which Houston needed desperately. But this team is in shambles.
Yao needs a good big man to get his back down low, and the team needs someone who can create offense. I understand the team had its hands tied with limited draft picks and salary cap issues, but that is due to the trades and signings they made. Speaking of signings, didn’t Houston sign some guys named Spanoulis and Snyder? It’s on Van Gundy for never developing any bench talent this year, leaving the Rockets’ bench one of the weakest of any playoff team in the Western Conference.
Watching the Suns and Spurs play Sunday, you could see how truly far away the Rockets are from being not just a great team but even a really good team. There are holes to be filled in the roster, and I imagine the coaching spot will be open soon, maybe by day’s end. I have always appreciated the way Van Gundy has handled his players with respect while demanding the best out of them and not accepting excuses. I think he has a great psychological understanding of players and teamwork, but his offenses have always been a joke. He is a great Eastern Conference coach. The Eastern Conference of the mid-’90s.
I don’t know how to fix the Rockets, exactly. That task will be left to rookie GM Daryl Morey. Bring Chauncey Billups or Mo Williams to run the point? Good idea, but seeing as the Rockets are only able to offer the mid-level exception due to salary cap issues, those guys are not going to head to Houston. Bring back Steve Francis? That could work for both sides, although guessing what Isiah will do with Francis’s contract is a complete waste of time. Overpay the Warriors’ versatile forward Mickael Pietrus? Make a trade to move up in the draft and try and get a forward like Joakim Noah or Brendan Wright, or even the physical freak that is 7-2 Roy Hibbert from Georgetown? Or stay pat and take Glen Davis or Nick Fazekas with the 26th pick (the Rockets’ only pick)? How about trading T-Mac for 75 cents on the dollar? I don’t know. It’s not my job.
There will probably be a coaching change. But who to get? Eric Musselman is probably too young for this team, and his brush with the law this year would probably scare away owner Les Alexander. Hopefully, Alexander does not get tempted by Larry Brown, who is a walking soap opera, despite being one of the best coaches (and Tar Heels) in history. What about former Rocket Mario Elie? He would relate well to the players; the fans already love him; and he could definitely bring back fond memories (and hopefully a motion offense). I suggest hiring Suns’ assistant coach Mike Iavaroni. He won a ring as a rookie, starting for the 76ers, and served as assistant coach/director of player development with Pat Riley from 1999-2002. He also has a 20-year association as a student and instructor under Hall of Fame coach Pete Newell, one of the best coaches of big men in the history of the game. Sounds like someone from whom Yao could learn, and he definitely has experience with offenses that actually know how to move the ball.
So, another season done for the Rockets, and once again they are left to answer questions. Good luck, fellas.
In the meantime, GO WARRIORS.
Speaking of, the Jazz-Warriors series should be very interesting. The Jazz match up very well with Golden State. It will be interesting to see if their aggressive, elbow-throwing defense will rattle the Warriors. I set the over/under on technical fouls for Stephen Jackson in this series at five.
(Photo courtesy Pat Sullivan/AP)
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My blog takes bring all the girls to the yard
Friend and former Ist colleague Eve Batey passed along the link to this hilarious “article” from the Onion today. It takes a swipe at the sad, self-involvement and disingenuous lack of greater-and-not-too-attainable goals of bloggers.
[from the Onion]
Now, if my friends happen to read my blog, great. If they e-mail others about it, fantastic. If people I don’t even know check it out— and according to my hit counter, as many as 62 a day have—so much the better. And if, say, Harper’s, Rolling Stone, or any other publication ever wanted to publish some of my blog entries for money, I guess that’s their prerogative.Look, if I wanted to be a “professional” print writer, I could easily do it. Last week I posted a very insightful piece on why Saturday Night Live is emerging from the bleak shadows of the past several years and may be on the cusp of experiencing a renaissance. Nearly three of the seven people who commented on the posting said they could envision the piece being published in the New York Times’ Arts & Leisure section. Hey, I didn’t say it, they did. And to be honest, by the looks of the section, they could use some new blood over there. Just saying.
I’m not some pathetic, lonely soul who sits in front of his computer refreshing his e-mail in hopes that somebody from HarperCollins, Three Rivers Press, or Random House will offer me a book deal. In fact, to prove how little I’m expecting from the blog career-wise, I’m taking the next few weeks off to focus on my spec script for Two And A Half Men — which I’m doing strictly for the practice, you understand. I could care less if it lands me an agent and a three-movie deal with Paramount.
Permalink | Comments (1) | Categories: Misc.
“Warriors, come out to play…”
Some of my earliest memories come from attending Houston Rockets games with my dad. The memories began around 1980-1981 or so, back when Moses Malone ruled the paint (25ppg, 15rpg that season); Mike Dunleavy captured the hearts of female Houstonians; Allen Leavell proved that you didn’t need a pretty jump shot to have an effective one; Calvin Murphy couldn’t miss a free throw; Billy Joe Paultz was a testament to the fact that you could be overweight and still have game (kind of); Del Harris sat on the bench; and Robert Reid was still wearing No. 50 and styled the high socks and legendary afro. That season, the Rockets upset Kareem, Magic and Wilkes’ Los Angeles Lakers on their way to the first of two NBA Finals whippings from Larry Legend and the Celtics in the ’80s.
Why this stroll down memory lane? Well, many, including ESPN Page 2’s Bill Simmons (with whom I have a shockingly similar history re: the topic of this post, as I am sure myriad guys between 30-38 do), consider the Rockets victory over the Lakers as one of the biggest upsets in NBA history. Tonight, while the Rockets try to beat the hated Utah Jazz on the road and win their first playoff series in 10 years, another legendary upset could be in the making. The No. 8-seed Golden State Warriors (by most accounts, not your typical 8 seed) will play at home against the Dallas Mavericks for a chance to advance to the second round of the playoffs for the first time since 1991.
Hardaway had the killer crossover, dubbed the UTEP two-step; Richmond gave opposing guards fits; and Mullin was a cold-blooded assassin with a mean streak cultivated growing up in Brooklyn. All three ranked in the top 10 in the league in scoring that season. As a sophomore high school hoopster who lived and breathed basketball, I watched in awe and fell in love with their style of play. Run T-M-C, as they were called, led me, for the only time in my sports fandom, to actively root for another team, testing my hometown allegiance. Of course, it helped that the Rockets did not beat the Lakers in the first round of the playoffs that year or I would have been faced with having to cheer against my newly beloved superheroes.
The Warriors are led by the modern-day equivalent of Run T-M-C: Baron Davis, one of the toughest guard match-ups in the league due to his size, speed, strength and tenacity, along with Jackson and the acrobatic Jason Richardson. Nelson has allowed them to play fast and loose and figured out a way to maximize the talents or Davis and Jackson, two players shunned by many in the league for being too mercurial. The Rockets, meanwhile, will rely on their two-man offense of Tracy McGrady and Yao Ming to finish off the Jazz on one of the most difficult courts for an opposing team to win.
I won’t waste time getting into breaking down both of these series any further. If you’re a hoops fan, you know more than I could elucidate. I am just pumped for one of the most exciting nights of basketball for me personally in ages. My hometown Rockets will try and exact revenge on the team who has been their nemesis for the past two decades, while my former basketball mistress Warriors will attempt to shock the basketball world and give Mavericks owner Mark Cuban a heart attack. You can almost hear the nervous silence of Dallas fans from here.
I think.
The only thing left to say is, “Warriors, come out to play…”
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Stephen Wiltshire: the Human Camera
After my piece on Siena Ristorante yesterday, I found myself in an Italian state of mind, reminiscing about the days I lived in Rome working as a tour guide of the Forum and Colosseum. That walk down memory lane led me to think of this amazing outtake from a documentary about Stephen Wiltshire entitled “Beautiful Minds: A Voyage into the Brain.” The autistic British artist is known as the Human Camera. He has shown a remarkable ability to remember complex scenes and later draw them from memory. In this clip, you can see Wiltshire take a 45-minute helicopter flight over the Eternal City and then draw it to amazing detail from memory. Watch and be amazed. It may make you think for a second or two about the power of the human mind and how little we access it to its fullest potential. To see copies of Wiltshire’s work or purchase one of his prints, visit his Web site.
(Thanks to AYC for the link.)
Permalink | | Categories: Misc.
Siena Ristorante: Tu vuoi fare l’Italiano
You’ve got Vespaio, which is probably the best, but I have seen it kinda be hit-or-miss the last few times I have been. And there was no way on earth I was waiting for 90 minutes for a table at South Austin’s favorite no-reservations establishment. La Traviata has excellent ownership, a great staff and usually delivers with their food. But I prefer that place for lunch, and am a little vexed by its limited menu. I have been told that Cibo is amazing, but I wasn’t really interested in dealing with a downtown crowd on the weekend, although I do intend to hit that place up very soon. That left me to finally indulge my curiosity and head out west to Siena Risorante Toscana.
I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the dinner. Less could be said for the décor and ambiance, not surprisingly. As my friend Steve puts it, Siena is the epitome of rather garish “Texaterranean” architecture. I am sure they are going for that oversized Italian villa style, replacing travertine with limestone, but it just comes off like a high-end chain trying to affect elegance and charm. But, I guess many of the nouveau riche clientele appreciate the style, as it reminds them of their trip to Tuscany last year. I, on the other hand, find it all to be a bit much, especially their oversized print of Il Palio (one of the most amazing sporting events I have witnessed) and the menu’s descriptive homage to said. Look, the contrade in Siena celebrate their victory in the big race by sitting together in small banquet halls and outdoor terraces eating gigantic meals at oversized tables with their friends and relatives. Trying to co-opt the spirit of that centuries-old ritual seems rather disingenuous and gauche to me.
Ok, ok, ok. Who’s being pretentious now? On to the meal. Despite the somewhat hard-to-swallow atmosphere, the food was delightful. We enjoyed a rich, well-seasoned boar bruschetta for appetizer, along with a roasted rabbit terrine wrapped in prosciutto and served on white corn polenta fritelle with green fig, mustard seed conserve. Both were delicious and ample. For her entrée, Tami had the capellini arrabbiata with shrimp. A pasta with such simple flavor components can often be difficult to execute well, as many restaurants make the dish lifeless and underseasoned. Although the dish could have made better use of the sauce, it was surprisingly flavorful. I enjoyed the ravioli stuffed with artichokes, spinach and goat cheese in a fresh basil and roasted tomato butter sauce. The ravioli was cooked to perfection and the sauce, to my pleasure, was not too heavy or rich. The portions were more than we could have hoped for, leaving us stuffed and not requiring dessert. We decided on Popsicles in the park back home once our big meal finally settled.
Now for the biggest disappointment of the evening. (Talk about burying the lede!) About 40 minutes into our meal I began to hear a man’s voice that sounded like it was coming from a PA directly over our table. I didn’t think it was possible that the restaurant was making announcements during the meal, but I could not figure it out. After a beat, I realized I could hear every, single word coming from the man. “Yeah, she is just your stereotypical Highland Park girl. Blah blah blah. Stuff and things about sororities and fraternities and whatnot!” Was I hallucinating? The boar was good, but not that good. Tami said she could hear it, but not make out every word. I had her switch seats with me and she was shocked. Being a bit more perspicacious than I, she realized that the voice was of a young man sitting directly down the wall from me, separated by three other tables. We looked up and noticed that the east dining room in which we were seated featured a vaulted ceiling and that our seats were at the base of the arches. The acoustics of the place allowed, nay, forced me to hear every word uttered by this boy for the next 20 minutes. I could hardly hear myself think, and was naturally a little wary of our subject matter, as I figured he could hear everything I said.
To give you an idea of the anomaly, I could not discern each word from the table five feet from us, but could hear everything from this table 40 feet away. Tami and I tried to make the best of it, trying to scandalize the other table by launching into stories about the homeless person I recently killed, but that only seemed to bring the attention of the 40-something man and honey-pie he was with. We told our waitress, who had offered professional, if a little too impersonal service, and she said she had heard similar complaints. She basically laughed it off. But when I asked for the check, I asked that a manager to come over.
I wasn’t irate, indignant or inconsolable, I just wanted her to know that maybe they should consider moving the tables away from the wall and putting plants in the corner, or a stuffed horse or whatever. She, too, more or less laughed it off and actually admitted that she had been told that the problem existed before and had totally forgotten it until I mentioned it. She concluded that maybe they’d do something about it eventually. Although I was not looking for any special service, I was rather shocked that she seemed so cavalier in her response. You would assume she would have at least offered us a dessert (not that we would have wanted one) or expressed her sincere apologies. Nope. We got a laugh and a, “maybe that’ll get fixed one day.” I would have hoped for more.
Despite the faux-elegance of the place, I recommend a trip out to Siena for the food alone. But I’d avoid the east dining room.
