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Show * m m mE SUMMER UTAH CHRONICLE ARTS&ENTERTAINMENT Wednesday, July 27, 2005 The Rottom | ine advice for the romantically disenfranchised Here's not looking at you, kid Why it's often best to keep the past buried lywood for you to live out this passionately torrid love affair across the miles, knowing full well the possibility of never seeing each other again. Wow, I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. This is a two-part issue, the first being that you have a long-standing fascination with a past crush from high school. The second is that this crush entails some geographical distance. I can easily address the first by simply removing the smoke and mirrors from your sight. This may come as a bitter shock to you, but as you make your way around the block a few times, you'll realize a few things. For one, there are things (people) in life that happen to you in the moment, but then the moment passes. You get that one small window of time to take your Dear "Casablanca," Tell me you guys parted wearing best shot, leave your mark, and then tan trench coats and bowling hats sometimes you have to walk away. while standing in the fog, saying It's like ripping off a Band-Aid. things like, "Here's lookin' at you, Trying to hold on to those experikid...." How tragic. How very Hol- ences is like trying to grip sand in Dear Danni, This summer I went back home for a few weeks to hang out with my friends and family. I had so much fun catching up and having home-cooked meals, free laundry—it was sweet. Anyway, all of my friends from high school got together and partied a lot, and I ran into this kid I used to have a huge crush on. Back then, we hung out in different crowds, but we talked the whole night and we ended up hooking up in my friend's backyard. I think about him all the time and we both said we would hook up again on our breaks at Thanksgiving. But this is driving me crazy! Danni, should I just forget about it since it's long distance, or do you think I should try to see him on the weekends? I miss him so much already. Help! hand, if you just level with each other, you might realize that it was "just one of those things." Then, from a statistical standpoint, any long-distance relationship you two attempt has as much chance of surviving as that Jared guy from Subway does after cardiac arrest. Surprisingly, one-third of all premarital relationships in university Danni Nutter settings are geographically separatChronicle Advice Columnist ed. I'm sure all of them will tell you your fist—its bound to escape at that to maintain love, there has to be some point. Nostalgia does have mutual trust, respect and commita way of making the rose-colored ment from both parties. glasses appear even darker. Upon The short and skinny of it is, I reflection, things always seem more don't think you two have had suffiromantic, more enticing—just more cient time to develop these crucial everything. I strongly encourage elements in your relationship. Addyou not to fall down that rabbit hole. ing separation anxiety to the pot You'll find yourself chasing an illu- would strain any already-established sion of what once seemed real. relationship—so just imagine what it Whether or not your crush falls would do to yours. within this category is for you to As for missing him, that's natube honest and upfront about with ral and to be expected. You have to yourself. Only you can determine if consider that your feelings of longthere is real substance from that in- ing for him may in fact be associated teraction to build upon. On the other with past baggage. With this recent intimate interaction, I can see why it may be difficult for you to see the forest for the trees. However, I think it would be a mistake for you to put all your eggs in one basket and start picking out tiles or place settings just yet. If you two have a mutual interest in pursuing a romantic relationship I would advise you to keep things on the slower side. When the sexual aspect is not in the forefront of a relationship, you can learn a great deal about your partner and your compatibility with him. To get to the bottom of this relationship, I suggest regular e-mail, letter writing, Web cam, text messaging and, of course, hours of phone time. At that point, if you two feel that things have developed in a positive light, then and only then should you consider redeeming some of your frequent flyer miles. Southwest has some great deals though October. dnutter@ chronicle.utah.edu On her majesty's secret Calendar July 27 Wednesday And now for some late-breaking news-and by latebreaking news, we mean, totally arbitrary and largely unimportant information. And by largely unimportant information, we mean, "Holy crap, look at that giant albatross!" As any loyal, brainwashed Calendophile ought to know, Calendar has, from time to time, been known to dabble in the dark arts of espionage. Whoa, whoa-don't give us that we're-less-gutlty-of-murderone-than-you-are look. Psssh. We invented that look. It's patented, sucka. Plus, it's not like you wouldn't totally embrace the duck-and-cover, sexual-partners-on-every-continent life of an international man of mystery like Calendar, if you had the chance. But you don't have the chance. You're a chem major. You watch too much Anime. Your imaginary girlfriend is named Boobela. One time, when your browser broke down under the strain of downloading 456.8 googlebytes of broadband internet pickled midget porn, you busted out the "My First Alchemy Kit" and created a band of the world's lamest superheroes, The Alkaline Trfo at In The Venue (200 S. 579 West) at 7 p.m. July 28 Thursday Sorry, Calendar got distracted. We generally aren't in the business of exploiting the misery of those less cool than we-which, for the record, is everyone other than Batman, and he's got a bitchin' gadget belt and a zillion dollars, and really, how can we compete with that? But, we mean, pickled midget porn? That's just too easy-how could any Calendar resist? Anyway, the point is this: Calendar, in all its Connerymeets-Brosnan charm, has a calling. That calling is espionage. This newspaper gig is just a clever front. A really clever front. Our passion is being paid by the butt-load to off genocidal dictators. It's pretty sweet, and we're really, really good at it—a fact Calendar readily attributes to our conception in a secret governmental lab for the production of superior assassins. And also to our grandmother, Ethyl, who kicked major ass. She was a mean oP bird, that one. So the question becomes: If you were a super-secret agent, genetically engineered to be the world's most deadly assassin AND make a killer batch of julienne fries (the spy-merit of which is still largefy suspect, though the fries are freakin' awesome), what would you do? The answer: Who cares? You're you, and we're Calendar. We're the ones that matter here-our psychiatrist and our mommy tell us so! So, we guess, the question becomes: What would Calendar do? (The trendy WWCD? rubber bracelet thingies are being mass produced as we speak.) Well, first, we'd get really, reafly cocky, almost as though we were constantly compensating for some type of debilitating, repressed insecurity. Then, we'd act all high-and-mighty, alienating the few poor schlubs who actually read our nonsense drivel by making fun of their beloved Anime. Then we'd go and start a band called Big Head Calendar and The Monsters. Then we'd realize that there's already a band with an eerily similar name, Big Head Todd and The Monsters playing tonight at The Galllvan Center (329 S. Main Street), and we'd go to the concert and assassinate Todd so our newly formed band wouldn't run into any pesky copyright suits in the future. We hear those things are just unbelievably annoying. But then we'd be a very tired Calendar because that's a long day, and we don't have much in the way of cardiovascular endurance. So we'd go get a beer. And we'd nap. Then we'd go to the best show in Salt Lake City: Sufjan Stevens at Lo-Fi Cafe (127 S. West Temple) at 7 p.m. Will Sartain, you're a good man for booking this one. "Hey honey, those hitchhikers look way friendlier than the last bunch. Lets pick 'em up!" Playing devil's advocate Rock-shock director Rob Zombie delivers a head banger in 'Devil's Rejects' "The Devil's Rejects" Lions Gate Films Inc. Written and Directed by Rob Zombie Starring: Sid Haig, Bill Moseley, Sheri Moon Zombie and William Forsythe Rated R/109 min Three-and-a-half out of four stars •••* Aaron Allen Chronicle Writer "The Devil's Rejects" has everything one would expect from a movie written and directed by a man named Rob Zombie. It is disgusting, contemptible, wildly profane and very, very violent. If that sounds like criticism, it's not. Like Frankenstein's monster, "The Devil's Rejects" thrashes with life, energized by the singular and unwavering vision of its maker. It's alive in a world full of timid movies. To say that the film is not for everybody is like saying Chinese water torture is an acquired taste. Zombie wields his freak show of murderous clowns, vengeful sheriffs and hot, dusty Texas highways like a two-by-four, beating his audience over the skull with wicked commentary beneath the gore. Yes, it's over-the-top, but it works in the movie's favor. Set in the 1970s, Zombie's family of serial killers is a vicious, rotting vestige of 1960s outlaw cool, led by a gruesome clown named Captain Spaulding (Sid Haig) and his cohorts, Otis (Bill Moseley) and Baby (Sheri Moon Zombie, Rob's wife). When the cops surround thendesert ranch, the family goes out with all guns blazing. It's the beginning of the end, not only for Spaulding and his kin, but for an entire era of filmic styles influenced by sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. It's no coincidence that, in a later scene, a prostitute and her boss talk about incorporating a "Star Wars" theme to attract customers. If "Kill Bill" was a Quentin Tarantino wet dream full of grind house, kung-fu, spaghetti western love, then "The Devil's Rejects" is Zombie's tribute to an era he holds dear: A decade defined by post-Vietnam existentialism, "Texas Chainsaw" grittiness and rock songs that stretched on into epic realms of far out-ness. It's more clever than it first looks. For instance, Sheriff Wydell (played with teeth-gnashing gusto by William Forsythe) has "The Devil's Rejects" Is not your Grandma's circus. a personal stake in the capture of Spaulding: The evil clown killed his brother years ago. There's a scene in which the sheriff menaces a mirror, boning up for the moment when he finally meets Spaulding face to face. We laugh, because it's such an obvious homage to DeNiro in "Taxi Driver," but it's more than that—the sheriff is channeling a culture intoxicated by the macho-delusional attitude of Martin Scorsese's nihilistic anti-hero. Rather than earnestly pursuing these values, Zombie merely winks at such a pursuit with violence, humor and affection. His hammy actors and pulpy dialogue look and sound ridiculous, but that's the point—we're watching exaggerated nostalgia filtered through a uniquely postmodern view. Sometimes the story stops for oddball diversions. There's a delightfully nutty scene in which the sheriff discovers that the killers have been using Marx Brothers names as pseudonyms (Captain Spaulding, Firefly, etc.). He brings in a local movie critic for advice. Of course, the critic is a fast-talking, irritating snob who's only interested in sharing his vast library of useless movie trivia (movie critics are nothing like that...no, not at all). On one hand, despite its reprehensible merits, "The Devil's Rejects" might have benefited from the focus of a more disciplined filmmaker. On the other hand, introducing focus and discipline to a movie that makes jokesabout doing unspeakable things to headless chickens might be the wrong approach. , Either way, Zombie should be commended for elevating schlock to a headier level, while still delivering a well made, straightforward horror flick. aallen@chronicle.utah.edu |