<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360</id><updated>2012-01-23T12:37:15.454-08:00</updated><title type='text'>JLT/JLT</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>304</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-1881636356217115882</id><published>2012-01-21T21:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T12:37:15.471-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Creation MythsIn a key scene from Kenneth Lonergan's Margaret, Anna Paquin's Lisa, a teenager who has witnessed (and is partly responsible for) the death of a stranger, confesses to Emily (Jeannie Berlin), the dead woman's closest friend that, in her final moments, the woman may have believed Lisa to be her deceased daughter and that this mistaken identity may have provided the woman some comfort</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1881636356217115882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1881636356217115882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#1881636356217115882' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-9195194224923023823</id><published>2012-01-18T12:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T12:44:56.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Silence...We're RollingGood indicator that I was probably out of step with music culture in 2011: I haven't even heard of the album that won this year's Pazz and Jop poll! Then again, I slotted the poll's runner-up first on my ballot and got my two cents printed on P&amp;J's single of the year. So, maybe I wasn't that out of step?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/9195194224923023823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/9195194224923023823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#9195194224923023823' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-8173048369222928865</id><published>2012-01-04T23:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T00:34:30.128-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>40 Performances: 201101. Anna Paquin - Margaret02. Kirsten Dunst - Melancholia03. Michelle Williams - Meek's Cutoff04. Deannie Yip - A Simple Life05. Kristen Wiig - Bridesmaids06. Brad Pitt - Moneyball07. Brad Pitt - The Tree of Life08. Jessica Chastain - The Tree of Life09. Peyman Maadi - A Separation10. John Hawkes - Martha Marcy May Marlene[see 11-40 here]</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8173048369222928865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8173048369222928865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#8173048369222928865' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-4143609404410065005</id><published>2012-01-03T05:55:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-04T08:29:15.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Nature. Grace. Etc.I'd really hoped to have this up before the end of the year. Ah, well--better late than never. [Thanks to Teresa for the lovely image-work.] Let's cut to the chase: 20. Dreileben: Beats Being Dead, Immmature (from A Time to Love), and Open Verdict (from Quattro Hong Kong 2) [tie] The MVP's of three omnibuses: Christian Petzold opens the German triptych Dreileben with a quiet </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4143609404410065005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4143609404410065005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html#4143609404410065005' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-3399182829947948244</id><published>2011-12-15T06:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T06:26:40.551-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>One To Get Started, Three 'Til We GoSometimes YouTube's "Recommended" panel yields gold: Couldn't resist posting this clip, as it combines two of my favorite things in the whole wide world.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3399182829947948244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3399182829947948244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#3399182829947948244' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/_uhQZGngePs/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2085111799038336422</id><published>2011-12-13T15:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T16:56:31.216-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>4 Records, 2 BlurbsLazy or economical? You decide.Pistol Annies, Hell on Heels &gt; Miranda Lambert, Four the Record: I would despair that Miranda's fourth album is her least inspired, but a) the downturn from Revolution to Four the Record isn't nearly as steep as from the near-perfect Crazy Ex-Girlfriend to the only-fine Revolution; and b) there's Pistol Annies! Hell on Heels, Lambert's side-group </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2085111799038336422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2085111799038336422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_12_01_archive.html#2085111799038336422' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5290558746734389754</id><published>2011-11-22T12:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-22T12:01:56.371-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Single of the YearBut not the first time you hear it. You're just like, "Right, they're back. Sweet." And then the second or third or fourth time it starts to do things. (Like convince you for three and a half minutes that it's July and not November. Or that videos of normal people dancing are coolly DIY.)It came as a surprise to me, too. Nearing the home-stretch, I thought it had to be Adele. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5290558746734389754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5290558746734389754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_11_01_archive.html#5290558746734389754' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6564073429332890975</id><published>2011-10-29T01:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T01:18:05.474-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I Love You With So Much of My HeartWhedon! Acker! Denisof! Shakespeare!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6564073429332890975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6564073429332890975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#6564073429332890975' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6686212796284933614</id><published>2011-10-23T14:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-23T15:16:16.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Of Gods and MenJayson Stark on Albert Pujols' monumental World Series Game 3, in which Pujols became only the third player in baseball history to hit three home runs in a World Series game (following Babe Ruth, who did it twice, and Reggie Jackson). Robert Christgau's excellent Rock&amp;Roll&amp; piece on Jay-Z and his reconsidered Consumer Guide blurbs for Reasonable Doubt and The Black Album. Adam Cook</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6686212796284933614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6686212796284933614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#6686212796284933614' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-261833445971842281</id><published>2011-10-18T02:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-22T04:11:52.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Limits of ControlIn his Cannes coverage for The A.V. Club, Mike D'Angelo wrote: Would people even know what to make of Melancholia were it not public knowledge that Von Trier has been suffering from clinical depression for the past few years? (I guess maybe the title might be a wee clue.) More to the point, is it possible to “enjoy” it—whatever that word might mean in this context—if </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/261833445971842281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/261833445971842281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#261833445971842281' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-175502374913874695</id><published>2011-10-16T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-16T21:15:59.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIFF: Best of the FestTOP TEN FILMS01. This Is Not a Film (Panahi/Mirtahmasb)02. Almayer's Folly (Akerman) 03. The Turin Horse (Tarr) 04. A Separation (Farhadi) 05. A Simple Life (Hui) 06. Year Without a Summer (Tan) 07. Martha Marcy May Marlene (Durkin) 08. Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (Ceylan) 09. Koran By Heart (Barker) 10. The Mill and the Cross (Majewski)SPECIAL MENTION: Dreileben: Beats </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/175502374913874695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/175502374913874695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#175502374913874695' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-8671260792765855623</id><published>2011-10-16T18:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-16T23:20:35.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIFF, Part 3: Days Go ByAre We Really So Far From a Madhouse? Li Honqi, director of last year's fest highlight Winter Vacation, returns with perhaps the most singularly bizarre musical tour documentary ever filmed. Working ostensibly within a format resistant to change or variation, Li follows the popular Chinese punk rock group P.K.14 as they drive across Mainland China, playing gigs and hanging</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8671260792765855623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8671260792765855623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#8671260792765855623' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6630189849479886532</id><published>2011-10-06T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T06:27:01.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIFF, Part 2: Good Men, Good WomenOnce Upon a Time in Anatolia On the one hand, seeing Nuri Bilge Ceylan's sprawling, elusive new film in the late-night festival slot, through blood-shot eyes, seated in the extreme front right of a sold-out theater, and immediately following Ashgar Farhadi's devastating A Separation (see below) may not be the ideal vantage point from which to evaluate and discuss</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6630189849479886532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6630189849479886532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#6630189849479886532' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-749088527085798855</id><published>2011-10-02T01:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T06:29:03.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIFF, Part 1: Time + PlaceThe 30th edition of the Vancouver International Film Festival is underway! Here's my first batch of capsules: Almayer's Folly Chantal Akerman's adaptation of Joseph Conrad's 1895 novel is a masterpiece of purposefully constructed dissonance: despite the distinctly nineteenth century flavor of the narrative and especially the dialogue, the film is ostensibly set in the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/749088527085798855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/749088527085798855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html#749088527085798855' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6392709332586273958</id><published>2011-09-21T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T22:45:16.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Pause to ReflectShort notes on three very-good-to-great recent viewings: Bridesmaids From Saturday Night Live and her small but memorable Adventureland role, we knew that Kristen Wiig was a formidable comedic talent. Here is proof that she can ably carry her own star vehicle. The ensemble cast of Bridesmaids--in particular, fellow SNL alum Maya Rudolph as the straight woman and bride-to-be to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6392709332586273958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6392709332586273958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#6392709332586273958' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-198120291074747970</id><published>2011-09-02T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T23:48:25.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Clear History: Cinemas Unfinished or Otherwise Below is a short article I contributed to a new local film journal, The Parallax. If you're around Vancouver, the debut issue--which also features thoughtful considerations of D.W. Griffith's Broken Blossoms and the films of James Gray, among other strong work--can be found at the Pacific Cinematheque and at the Vancity Theatre. If not, you can </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/198120291074747970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/198120291074747970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html#198120291074747970' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5153619301413887387</id><published>2011-06-24T21:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T20:38:32.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Every Which Way But Loose (or Any Which Way You Can?)What we used to call "albums":Lady Gaga, Born This Way So, is this it? The moment when Gaga the persona stopped being interesting because Gaga the person (it's slipped through the cracks despite her best efforts at playing the blank slate) isn't? While the moment itself was inevitable, I assumed the music, which never felt secondary to her </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5153619301413887387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5153619301413887387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html#5153619301413887387' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-3689343445944126442</id><published>2011-06-20T18:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T22:19:30.559-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sight and SoundI've had a couple good conversations recently  on the best uses of pop music in movies and on television, so I've decided to post some of my favorite examples. These are culled from what's available on YouTube, and they're just off the top of my head, not listed in any sort of preferential order. I've been rather wordy lately, so I'll just let the sounds and images in the clips </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3689343445944126442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3689343445944126442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html#3689343445944126442' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/9OR_jXPum0o/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-4156765386961151972</id><published>2011-06-18T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T17:42:42.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Remembrance of Things PastEarly speculation, based on production stills and vague murmurings of dinosaurs, suggested that Terrence Malick's fifth feature would be a science-fiction picture. Upon its release, countless reviewers have compared The Tree of Life to Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, though for reasons have that have more to do with staggering ambition than with genre. Still, the film </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4156765386961151972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4156765386961151972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html#4156765386961151972' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5081483372926569237</id><published>2011-06-18T11:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T12:52:16.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Write Not RiotAs a fan of great, inventive sports writing, Grantland, the brainchild of the compulsively readable Bill Simmons, is something of a dream come true. Check out Simmons on the Stanley Cup finals (still a good read, after the fact); Jay Caspian Kang on the exquisite corpse of LeBron James; Chuck Klosterman on the NBA's bizarre-when-you-stop-to-think-about-it halfcourt rule; and Chris </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5081483372926569237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5081483372926569237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html#5081483372926569237' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-7099948739268752897</id><published>2011-06-12T22:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-12T22:56:14.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Das ChampionCongratulations to the Dallas Mavericks, 2011's deserving NBA champions. As a Lakers fan, it's validating, if not comforting, to see the Mavs dispatch the Heat in six. And besides, it's nice to see Dirk and Kidd finally score some rings.And what have we learned this postseason? The league's New Guard hasn't quite usurped its Old Guard, despite early signs to the contrary. Yes, the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7099948739268752897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7099948739268752897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html#7099948739268752897' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5527702733863985122</id><published>2011-05-29T01:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-29T21:12:40.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Who Will Survive in America?Wendy and Lucy--the 2008 film that represented a giant step forward and the arrival of a major auteur in Kelly Reichardt--told the story of a young woman (Michelle Williams) trying to make it up to Alaska, but who gets stuck on the way in a small Oregon town, without money, without resources, and without her dog, Lucy. Many admirers at the time remarked upon the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5527702733863985122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5527702733863985122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html#5527702733863985122' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-1658955007636841581</id><published>2011-05-20T21:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T20:10:14.349-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Waiting for the ManAdam Cook, over at Cinemezzo, has invited some guest writers, including yours truly, to reflect on Terrence Malick's first four features in feverish anticipation of The Tree of Life. The feature kicks off tomorrow, May 21st, with Edwin Davies of Hope Lies at 24 Frames Per Second covering Badlands; my contribution on Days of Heaven will run this coming Monday; our gracious </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1658955007636841581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1658955007636841581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html#1658955007636841581' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-3215521803165520650</id><published>2011-05-08T21:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T22:44:48.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"Shh, Don't Look at Them"When we're out doing things--running errands, going for a walk, getting a bite to eat, etc.--and our two and a half year-old son visibly needs an in-stroller nap and seems on the verge of nodding off, one of us will say, "Shh, don't look at him." Which means, of course, stop talking for a moment, don't make eye contact, and hopefully the lack of visual and aural </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3215521803165520650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3215521803165520650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html#3215521803165520650' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2897570980107259203</id><published>2011-05-03T13:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-04T21:42:46.657-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Victory LapIn Bill Simmons' introduction to his Book of Basketball (a terrific read, by the way, recommended to all NBA fans), he mentions a conversation he had with Isiah Thomas concerning the so-called "secret of basketball." Simmons pressed Thomas for an answer to this elusive question, and Thomas responded that "the secret of baksetball is that it's not about basketball," but rather about </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2897570980107259203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2897570980107259203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html#2897570980107259203' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5694864370574918917</id><published>2011-04-04T22:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T22:19:55.865-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Brothers in ArmsMy latest obsession: Supernatural. Having never followed the show over the past years of its run, I've played quick catch-up, burning through Season 1-4 over the past month. Consider me converted; as a serious admirer of Joss Whedon's work, especially Buffy and Angel, Eric Kripke's series is the next-best thing in terms of a fantasy-horror series with an absorbing and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5694864370574918917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5694864370574918917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html#5694864370574918917' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6587992441118100685</id><published>2011-03-14T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T20:58:28.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Lion in WinterFilm Socialisme, Godard's latest feature, is among his densest, most allusive, and perplexing; fans mostly familiar with Godard via the recent 50th Anniversary re-release of Breathless or from his iconic '60's work in general may want to exercise a certain degree of caution. But for fellow admirers of Godard's late-career mode (from Histoire(s) du Cinema on), this is very much a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6587992441118100685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6587992441118100685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_03_01_archive.html#6587992441118100685' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-1797956815632311510</id><published>2011-03-03T16:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T20:35:08.689-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Great ExpectationsTwo-thirds of my favorite band in the world ever + the great Mary Timony: I'm psyched. According to this Village Voice piece on Carrie Brownstein, WILD FLAG (apparently, it's supposed to be written in all caps) are aiming for an August release for their debut record and playing some shows in the meantime. In the article, Brownstein also talks a little about the  tantalizing </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1797956815632311510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1797956815632311510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_03_01_archive.html#1797956815632311510' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-4727922619723283454</id><published>2011-02-20T11:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T13:46:46.897-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No Girl So SweetIt's rare, at this point, to read an article or hear a commentator speak about Madonna without mentioning her knack for reinvention, but PJ Harvey deserves nearly as much credit for doing over almost-two decades on the semi-pop sidelines what Madge has done over almost-three decades front-and-center. The key difference between the two isn't 10 or so years of maintained relevance--</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4727922619723283454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4727922619723283454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html#4727922619723283454' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-8840341855937477705</id><published>2011-02-18T22:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T23:57:39.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Make This Happen, Part IIFive reasons why this really needs to happen--and hopefully sooner rather than later: 01. Since the Grizzlies moved to Memphis in 2001, Vancouverites missed out on the renaissance of NBA talent over the past decade: just for starters, LeBron James, Dwayne Wade, Carmelo Anthony, Dwight Howard, Kevin Durant, Deron Williams, and Chris Paul, who (at least in theory--messy </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8840341855937477705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8840341855937477705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html#8840341855937477705' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2192056170407100013</id><published>2011-02-15T14:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T15:43:13.861-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Empire State of MindLast year's most engrossing character study has recently arrived on DVD--and it's not a fictional narrative. Instead, Alex Gibney's Client 9: The Rise and Fall of Eliot Spitzer follows the lead of films such as The Fog of War, Errol Morris' thoughtful reconsideration of Robert S. McNamara, in detailing the sins and triumphs of the disgraced former Attorney General and Governor</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2192056170407100013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2192056170407100013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html#2192056170407100013' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2655107961120170439</id><published>2011-02-09T17:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T23:09:15.579-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You Say Y-E-S to EverythingWhat else is on (besides Last Train to Paris and My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy):Marina and the Diamonds, The Family Jewels The full-length debut from Marina and the Diamonds (real name Marina Diamandis--we, the fans, are "the Diamonds," says our heroine) is, at times, a tad on-the-nose and slightly-too-clever, like on the  opening track when she rhymes "satisfied" </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2655107961120170439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2655107961120170439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html#2655107961120170439' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5488414132701127118</id><published>2011-02-08T13:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T13:40:05.917-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Make This HappenLong-hyped as Shaq 2.0, Andrew Bynum has actually been closer to the rich man's Greg Oden. Bynum for Carmelo is a no-brainer. Can you imagine heading into the playoffs with a starting five of Kobe, Melo, Pau, Odom, and Fisher, with Ron-Ron possibly coming back to life when it really matters? Top seed locked up or not, the Spurs would be much less of a worry, and as far as the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5488414132701127118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5488414132701127118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html#5488414132701127118' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5650652684311673559</id><published>2011-02-07T17:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T18:24:27.137-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Another KeeperSoon after posting my list of underrated 2000's albums, I realized I'd accidentally left off an album as good--and as underappreciated--as most of those I'd included: Mandy Moore's self-titled third album. The reason for this is likely that I myself didn't hear it until five years after its release so, in consulting my year-end lists to put together the one below, it was nowhere in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5650652684311673559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5650652684311673559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html#5650652684311673559' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-811934697322167036</id><published>2011-02-05T17:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T20:24:04.588-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Unknown PleasuresWith the first decade of the new millennium now in the rear view mirror, I think it's a good time to look back at the 2000's albums that were entirely slept-on, deeply underrated, or that, for whatever reason (the artist or group quickly disappeared from prominence, they released subsequent work that felt redundant or generally less interesting, they were part of a "sound" or "</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/811934697322167036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/811934697322167036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html#811934697322167036' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-3740673983908016560</id><published>2011-02-05T14:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T15:50:46.528-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Joie de vivreAs usual these days, I'm late to the party on Last Train to Paris, but...damn! I mean, a show of hands please for those of you who fully expected Diddy to someday release a cohesive, visionary masterwork?Yeah, me neither and I like the guy just fine and enjoy no fewer than a dozen (and perhaps as many as twenty) pre-Last Train tracks with his name attached as the primary artist. But </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3740673983908016560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3740673983908016560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html#3740673983908016560' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-1535525592686538904</id><published>2011-02-05T14:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T14:30:10.164-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>For Whom the Bell TollsFellow Sopranos diehards: If you haven't already come across this, it will very likely blow your mind.Personally, I was always on the fence about what the final scene of the series "means," but this extremely close, necessarily lengthy analysis (including seemingly revealing David Chase remarks I'd never before encountered) now has me sold that Tony sleeps with fishes.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1535525592686538904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1535525592686538904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html#1535525592686538904' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-4994302397262205120</id><published>2011-01-29T22:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T22:44:54.139-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>AddendumI've added a list of my 50 favorite performances of last year to my best-of-2010 page. Here's the top ten:01. Sibel Kikelli - When We Leave02. Ben Stiller - Greenberg03. Greta Gerwig - Greenberg04. Jennifer Lawrence - Winter's Bone05. Edgar Ramirez - Carlos06. Justin Timberlake - The Social Network07. John Hawkes - Winter's Bone08. Michelle Williams - Blue Valentine09. Ryan Gosling - Blue</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4994302397262205120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4994302397262205120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html#4994302397262205120' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6159280149058358833</id><published>2011-01-29T14:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T17:36:40.761-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Los Angeles Plays ItselfOne of American cinema's most interesting trends in 2010 was an uncommon wealth of Los Angeles-set films that offer a unique feel or perspective of what life in L.A. is actually like, at least for some segments of its population--as opposed to the annual slew of Hollywood-made/Hollywood-set movies that recycle the same familiar Greater Los Angeles locations without </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6159280149058358833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6159280149058358833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html#6159280149058358833' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-4473737266075096331</id><published>2011-01-23T19:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T13:15:02.707-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A Hundred (or So) FilmsLike an oil change for your car or spring cleaning around the house, re-thinking and tweaking a top 100 films list is, every so often, one of those mental necessities for a lot of cinephiles, myself included. Below is the latest ordering for my personal list. As you may notice, there are some rather glaring omissions. Most of these are intentional, though many would be </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4473737266075096331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4473737266075096331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html#4473737266075096331' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-14764158293034741</id><published>2011-01-20T16:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T16:49:38.962-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Words Will Never Come OutThis is amazing (especially when you consider the original!).</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/14764158293034741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/14764158293034741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html#14764158293034741' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/NQYo6rXVIGY/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-1305644800892189700</id><published>2011-01-18T19:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T19:55:13.375-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What We Liked the MostNot surprisingly but certainly hearteningly (with the dubious likes of Animal Collective, TV on the Radio, and LCD Soundsystem as the last three album winners), Kanye won this year's Pazz and Jop. By a landslide; My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy finished a mere 18 points shy of doubling the total for LCD's runner-up This Is Happening! "Fuck You!" topped the singles side of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1305644800892189700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1305644800892189700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html#1305644800892189700' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2492092094423979558</id><published>2011-01-16T16:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T21:01:40.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The JLT/JLT BallotWith the Golden Globes airing tonight and the Oscar nominations soon to be announced, I figured it was a good time to post my picks for the year's best work. As with my top films list posted late last month, I am not limiting my picks to Oscar-eligible work; anything I saw in 2010 is fair game. My choices in each category are listed in roughly preferential order. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2492092094423979558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2492092094423979558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html#2492092094423979558' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-1368164989024666254</id><published>2011-01-12T14:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-13T02:22:21.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Work in ProgressJames Joyce died 70 years ago today. A few quotes in his honor. "One of the things I could never get accustomed to in my youth was the difference I found between life and literature." (Joyce to a friend) "Welcome, O life, I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race. Old father, old </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1368164989024666254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1368164989024666254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html#1368164989024666254' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6653209428769663622</id><published>2011-01-12T11:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T14:24:54.594-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Bad Omens2011 has not started off well.First, in Pakistan, the governor of Punjab province, Salman Taseer, was assassinated by one of his own bodyguards coming out of a cafe where he'd eaten his lunch. Then, closer to home, an Arizona congresswoman was shot while holding an informal meeting with local constituents in a grocery store; six people were killed while 12 more were wounded, including </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6653209428769663622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6653209428769663622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html#6653209428769663622' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-1386559177908516067</id><published>2011-01-08T15:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T16:12:44.453-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>This Is HappeningR. Kelly's "When a Woman Loves" is what's on. Rosenbaum on Kiarostami's place in Iranian (and World) Cinema. Armond White's annual "Better-Than" list--always a must-read, even if you mostly disagree. I'm not a Poetry Person per se, but I really like this poem by Michael Ondaatje. Joanna Newsom and Andy Samberg are the most adorable celeb couple that I didn't know existed until a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1386559177908516067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1386559177908516067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html#1386559177908516067' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5758151001062145449</id><published>2010-12-21T19:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-23T20:03:29.199-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Movies While They LastPutting this year's best-of list together has led me think a little bit about the different ways in which we see movies. The contrast, for example, between my #1 and #2 picks seems to emphasize the significance of following such a train of thought. The former was truly one of the twenty or so most powerful theatre-going experiences I've ever had, yet, sadly, I doubt--mostly </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5758151001062145449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5758151001062145449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html#5758151001062145449' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-522592176728698302</id><published>2010-12-13T11:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-13T12:29:00.953-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Buyer's MarketIn my experience, it's exceedingly rare that halfway through a film you're just about ready to write it off as a potential-packed-but-muddled, exceptionally well-shot (by Jia Zhangke's DP of choice, Yu Lik Wai, sometimes credited as Nelson Yu Lik-Wai) dud and then, within the last ten minutes, you suddenly realize the movie you're watching is much smarter and tighter than you'd </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/522592176728698302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/522592176728698302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html#522592176728698302' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-4403293782434889014</id><published>2010-12-12T01:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T02:27:55.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Mesmerizing, TooMy Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy and Funstyle are two of the best albums of 2010, but they're also two of the year's weirdest, most playfully experimental and eccentric collections. I love 'em both--but most people don't. This is worth considering not because I think everyone should share my musical tastes or because they're at all comparable musically (obviously, they're not). </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4403293782434889014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4403293782434889014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html#4403293782434889014' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5404994051595801446</id><published>2010-12-02T11:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T11:50:40.757-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The One That Got AwayWith the queasy spectacle of LeBron's return to Northeast Ohio looming this evening, here's "Believeland," Wright Thompson's superlative examination of Cleveland, its sports history, and how LBJ factors in.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5404994051595801446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5404994051595801446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html#5404994051595801446' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-7075146654538556610</id><published>2010-11-30T11:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T12:18:40.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Higher PowerWhat My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy proves, first and foremost, is that Kanye West is quite simply working at a different level of consistency and creative progress than every other recording artist today. I'll write at greater length about the specifics of this strange, masterful, and indeed very beautiful record in the near future, but after three start-to-finish listens and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7075146654538556610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7075146654538556610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_11_01_archive.html#7075146654538556610' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6155375439079997172</id><published>2010-11-16T11:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T11:16:52.840-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Other ConversationsTeresa on Chicks, City of Life, and Snow White. Zadie Smith on The Social Network. Christgau on Miranda Lambert. (Stylus alum) Theon Weber on Taylor Swift. Letterman on what Taylor Swift smells like. Howard Bryant on the 2010 San Francisco Giants and the changing face of Major League Baseball.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6155375439079997172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6155375439079997172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_11_01_archive.html#6155375439079997172' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-402042979448243511</id><published>2010-11-06T22:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T23:58:41.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Every Man for Himself and God Against AllSometimes the film world needs a swift kick in the ass. Especially the (quasi-)historical drama genre. Valhalla Rising is just that and plenty more besides--it's a tough-as-nails, weird-as-fuck work of Pure Cinema. Essentially sui generis, Nicholas Winding Refn's visceral Viking yarn is dubiously speculative as history but any semblance of "plot" here </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/402042979448243511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/402042979448243511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_11_01_archive.html#402042979448243511' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-9168054295530428296</id><published>2010-10-25T21:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T21:16:57.872-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Golden AgeThe past decade has been arguably the most fruitful and varied in television's young history as a storytelling medium. This is especially true of the hour-long drama format, which dominates my list of the past 10 years' 10 best shows. I'll note, too, that for the list I'm considering any series that aired in the new millennium, no matter how long or short its run, including shows now </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/9168054295530428296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/9168054295530428296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_10_01_archive.html#9168054295530428296' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6188467640535751350</id><published>2010-10-19T21:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T22:00:18.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Godamnit.                                                                                                                            It's one thing to be stifled by arguably the best pitcher in baseball--Game 3 was certainly an embarrassment but kind of an inevitable one with the freakish Cliff Lee on the mound. Game 4 was something much, much worse. Hell, right up until that pitch to Bengie </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6188467640535751350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6188467640535751350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_10_01_archive.html#6188467640535751350' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5286390576761316701</id><published>2010-10-16T11:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T17:56:06.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIFF Wrap-Up: Best of the FestJoshTOP TEN FILMS01. Karamay (Xu)02. Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (Apichatpong)03. The Tiger Factory (Woo)04. I Wish I Knew (Jia)05. Around a Small Mountain (Rivette)06. Carlos (Assayass)07. Winter Vacation (Li)08. Aurora (Puiu)09. L.A. Zombie (LaBruce)10. Dear Prudence (Zlotowski)FEMALE PERFORMANCE (LEAD)*Sibel Kikelli - When We </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5286390576761316701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5286390576761316701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_10_01_archive.html#5286390576761316701' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2175295869200958076</id><published>2010-10-14T10:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T00:51:24.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIFF, Part 3: Welcome to the FutureAnd a few more films, for good measure: Aurora Cristi Puiu's follow-up to his much-revered The Death of Mr. Lazarescu might well be some sort of rigorously achieved masterpiece, but if so, it's one for which it's exceptionally difficult to find a psychological point-of-entry into the narrative. The three-hour film spans (so far as I can tell) about 36 hours in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2175295869200958076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2175295869200958076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_10_01_archive.html#2175295869200958076' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5682702618373096969</id><published>2010-10-12T11:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T22:30:41.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIFF, Part 2: How Soon Is Now?Around a Small Mountain If this is indeed Rivette's final film, it's a poignant and effortlessly graceful swansong. It's only "minor" if minor and  modest are inextricably synonymous because it is certainly modest in scope and length but it's as quietly masterful as anything he's made in the past couple decades. Observing the rituals, relationships, and secret </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5682702618373096969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5682702618373096969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_10_01_archive.html#5682702618373096969' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-8769204143212062715</id><published>2010-10-05T11:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T23:09:27.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VIFF, Part 1: Out of the PastNotes on my first batch of films from the 29th Vancouver International Film Festival:Apichatpong and Hirabayashi Five short films, three by the former and two by the latter. As I'm embarassingly incapable of wrting anything substantial about shorts--a fact that in no way detracts from my appreciation of that distinct form--suffice it to say that the Apichatpong </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8769204143212062715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8769204143212062715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_10_01_archive.html#8769204143212062715' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-1986915946045993756</id><published>2010-09-10T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T14:31:16.442-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My Three Favorite Things Right NowIn no particular order:Mad Men Astonishingly, this show just keeps getting better and better, no? Its rhythms and moods are unlike anything else I've ever seen on television, including The Sopranos. It's so mercurial and unpredictable. And its emotional and psychological resonance have officially caught up with (or even surpassed) its formal and sociopolitical </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1986915946045993756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1986915946045993756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_09_01_archive.html#1986915946045993756' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-1057571332675601194</id><published>2010-05-23T02:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T02:54:51.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hallelujah, I'm a BumFrom Shrek to One Tree Hill to the Vancouver Winter Olympics and beyond, is there a song in the English language more overused, over-covered, and over-relied-upon-for-surefire-gooseflesh-catharsis than Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah"? And yet...is there a more infallibly affecting, more amazingly adaptable, indeed more beautifully written song? I can think of few, if any. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1057571332675601194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1057571332675601194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html#1057571332675601194' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-4422509634904544026</id><published>2010-04-12T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T19:59:52.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Facing EastTeresa on J-Pop in The Guardian--fantastic article!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4422509634904544026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4422509634904544026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_04_01_archive.html#4422509634904544026' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2711981885710431253</id><published>2010-04-12T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T21:56:26.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>War Is Hell Is Other PeopleAir Doll After a decade and a half making movies, Hirokazu Koreeda is looking more and more like one of Japan's key contemporary directors. Here, he takes a Pinocchio-as-inflatable-sex-doll premise and steers it in directions as provocative and poignant as Spielberg navigated A.I.. Major credit goes to Bae Doona as Nozomi, the titular pleasure object come to disoriented</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2711981885710431253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2711981885710431253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_04_01_archive.html#2711981885710431253' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-9105912816967880939</id><published>2010-01-13T13:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T13:53:26.290-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Life's a BitchJudging from 2009's top awards contenders, that's the mantra of the year: "Life's a bitch." Rape, incest, poverty, HIV; unemployment, when you have a family to provide for and bills to keep ahead on; dismantling Improvised Explosive Devices within the heart of a war zone--choose your poison.If this bleak worldview has a physical embodiment, it's not Jeremy Renner trudging around in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/9105912816967880939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/9105912816967880939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#9105912816967880939' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-176972838299407703</id><published>2010-01-07T21:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T23:41:12.307-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>100 Singles: 2000-09So, singles. I'm absolutely positive that there are major cuts I'm momentarily forgetting, though maybe in some cases, the fact that they're slipping my mind is telling in itself; which is to say, it's just what I was feelin' at the time.  100. Conor Oberst - "When the President Talks to God"99. Ryan Adams - "New York, New York"98. LCD Soundsystem - "New York, I Love You"97. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/176972838299407703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/176972838299407703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#176972838299407703' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2939983731565221935</id><published>2010-01-06T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T12:11:46.366-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>100 Albums: 2000-09After the film feature, I'm kind of blurb'd out for a while so I only wrote up very short notes on the top ten for this. For the record, this list was surprisingly difficult to put together. I had no idea at the outset that by deciding to limit my selections to 100, there wouldn't be room for Missy Elliot, Dizzee Rascal, the Streets, or Neko Case solo, among others who've </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2939983731565221935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2939983731565221935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html#2939983731565221935' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-932831149535777332</id><published>2009-12-31T22:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T20:49:26.973-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>It's Not Me, It's YouIn Discovering Orson Welles, Jonathan Rosenbaum's excellent collection of Welles-related essays, Rosenbaum devotes a number of chapters to critiques of Welles biographies. He roughly divides the texts between those sympathetic to Welles and those more harshly critical, as well as making the distinction between biographers who knew Welles personally and ones who did not. What </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/932831149535777332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/932831149535777332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#932831149535777332' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-8519572195108032020</id><published>2009-12-14T21:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T22:58:35.811-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Artists of the YearAdam Lambert and Lady Gaga aren't just the artists of the year. They each represent the culmination of a decade's worth of pop-in-theory (as opposed to literally popular) finally burst through ready-or-not into the mainstream. Which is to say, they're consciously subversive, smart about their own image and fame, clearly fascinated by pop history, sexually outré, wickedly </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8519572195108032020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8519572195108032020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#8519572195108032020' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-7157471422619266117</id><published>2009-12-04T11:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T20:06:54.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Lives Less Ordinary: Films 1-202. Ghost World and 01. Before Sunset So, yeah, if only one film could represent the 2000's in a time-capsule for future generations to discover, it should absolutely be Redacted. But back to what I said above...rewatchability? Great acting? Those (usually) matter, too, and they especially matter when the films you're repeatedly rewatching somehow continue to yield </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7157471422619266117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7157471422619266117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#7157471422619266117' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-8339398225522159301</id><published>2009-12-02T11:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T11:12:58.481-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tomorrow Never Knows: Films 3-505. A.I. A.I. certainly retains elements of Kubrick's conception and development of the project, but to consider it as an equal-parts hybrid is to shortchange Spielberg for the greatest film of his career. Icy yet tender, epic and intimate, A.I. is a film like no other--and the much-argued over ending is cinematic storytelling at its most profoundly human.04. Three </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8339398225522159301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8339398225522159301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#8339398225522159301' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2014222082371480152</id><published>2009-12-01T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T19:40:20.218-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Impossible Beauty: Films 6-1010. Tropical Malady, 09. The New World and 08. In the Mood for Love This trio of unconventional romances each rank among the most jaw-droppingly beautiful films ever made. Apichatpong Weerasethakul's strongest outing to date is a gay love story told in two complimentary parts: the first half is a relatively traditional, exceptionally (and almost suspiciously) sunny </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2014222082371480152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2014222082371480152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html#2014222082371480152' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-7387065990530701524</id><published>2009-11-30T21:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T22:35:24.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Blood and Guts: Films 11-1515. There Will Be Blood and 14. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford In 2007, Paul Thomas Anderson and Andrew Dominik reinvented the western, crafting not anti-westerns in the Peckinpah sense per se, but rather films that actively investigated the mythology surrounding the settlement of the American West, drawing clear, straight lines to the U.S.A.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7387065990530701524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7387065990530701524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#7387065990530701524' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2739575737329984606</id><published>2009-11-29T22:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T01:18:00.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>In Praise of Serious Men: Films 16-2020. The House of Mirth Terence Davies' adaptation of Edith Wharton's novel about a socialite's fall from moneyed grace in turn-of-the-century New York is one of the great literary costume dramas ever put to celluloid--in a league with, say, Kubrick's Barry Lyndon and Ruiz's Time Regained. The entire endeavor is exquisitely accomplished, from the art design (</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2739575737329984606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2739575737329984606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#2739575737329984606' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-3084880497045774866</id><published>2009-11-29T13:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T01:23:26.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"Women's Films": Films 21-2525. The Intruder Claire Denis' best film this decade (Beau Travail, while released commercially in North America in 2000, played the fests in '99) sounds convoluted on paper--an older, reclusive French man in need of a heart transplant heads to Tahiti in search of a son he's never met, while more or less ignoring his other son and his family in France...then add to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3084880497045774866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3084880497045774866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#3084880497045774866' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2442275476369275364</id><published>2009-11-28T14:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T15:36:54.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>High Points: Films 26-3030. 25th Hour and 29. Solaris Two hit-or-miss, occasionally thrilling American auteurs working near the height of their respective powers. Spike Lee's film is full of anger and anxiety, but, in many ways, it's the most mature of his non-documentary efforts, leaning less on stylization and provocation (though there's healthy doses of both in the mix) and instead focusing on</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2442275476369275364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2442275476369275364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#2442275476369275364' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5019980042523009909</id><published>2009-11-25T03:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T04:05:55.599-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Fat Girls and Inglorious Basterds: Films 31-3535. Fat Girl Catherine Breillat's molotov cocktail of a movie confounds expectations, ingeniously subverts the teen-romance-on-a-holiday-at-the-beach subgenre, and (admittedly, coming from a male) feels as brutally honest as any representation of sisterly rivalry ever filmed. 34. Unknown Pleasures and 33. Perfect Life Jia Zhangke's expert study of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5019980042523009909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5019980042523009909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#5019980042523009909' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5319633812294487228</id><published>2009-11-24T14:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T15:12:08.515-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Alternate Routes: Films 36-4040. Millennium Mambo Hou Hsiao-hsien's most underappreciated effort is the "night" to Cafe Lumiere's "day" (a one-two punch reminiscent of Wong Kar-wai's Chungking Express and Fallen Angels in the '90's). Where the later film brilliantly uses sunlight--the way it reflects off and dances around surfaces and people--in telling the story of a single expecting mother and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5319633812294487228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5319633812294487228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#5319633812294487228' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5879057331144400116</id><published>2009-11-23T11:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T14:44:20.122-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Histories of Violence: Films 41-5050. Spider and 49. Koma David Cronenberg's best film since either Crash or Dead Ringers (depending on my mood) and the most outrageous Asian horror/dark comedy you've (probably) never seen. Spider is a study of childhood demons deeply suppressed, featuring one of Ralph Fiennes' finest performances and one of the decade's best by Miranda Richardson as a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5879057331144400116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5879057331144400116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#5879057331144400116' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-7951157187424312427</id><published>2009-11-22T21:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T23:34:47.058-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Lost It at the Movies: Films 51-5959. Goodbye, Dragon Inn and 58. The Wayward Cloud Tsai Ming-liang at his deadpan, minimalist best: slow-build "jokes," awkward sexual encounters, and eternal static shots. The former is Tsai's version of a Death of Cinema elegy, as a Taipei movie house on the eve of its closing down plays host to a few loyal film fans, guys cruising urinal stalls for quick </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7951157187424312427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7951157187424312427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#7951157187424312427' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-3613018283686564042</id><published>2009-11-21T13:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T13:57:04.090-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Human Nature: Films 60-6464. The Edge of Heaven and 63. Head-On With these two films, Fatih Akin firmly established himself as a unique talent within contemporary European cinema. Both consider the shifting sands of post-EU Europe--and specifically where Turkey and Germany's sizable Turkish diaspora fit in--while concentrating on precisely observed human relationships. The Edge of Heaven is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3613018283686564042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3613018283686564042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#3613018283686564042' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-270953737114666544</id><published>2009-11-20T11:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T12:11:40.785-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Doomed Love: Films 65-6969. 2046 and 68. The Duchess of Langeais A pair of doomed love stories that skip back and forth in time--one radically, the other more delicately. Wong Kar-wai's much-anticipated follow-up to the essentially perfect In the Mood for Love is more all-over-the-place than its exquisitely streamlined precursor, but it's a fascinating endeavor nevertheless, mixing self-reflexive</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/270953737114666544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/270953737114666544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#270953737114666544' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2840091436368985439</id><published>2009-11-19T20:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T20:51:40.229-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>New Nightmares: Films 70-7474.Vital and 73. Bug Horror films of the mind--or mad romances. Shinya Tsukamoto's stunner flirts with necrophilia and auto-erotic asphyxiation while expertly sustaining its tone of wistful melancholy throughout (imagine an Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind where Jim Carrey loses his memory first and only remembers Kate Winslet after beginning to dissect her cadaver</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2840091436368985439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2840091436368985439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#2840091436368985439' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-7148585387688715995</id><published>2009-11-19T17:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T18:24:13.689-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Family Matters: Film 75-8080. Gran Torino, 79. A Christmas Tale and 78. Monsoon Wedding The idea of family is key to these three. In Gran Torino, the peerless Clint Eastwood plays a grumpy, racist widower and Korean War vet, who progressively comes to realize that he has more in common with the working-class, community-oriented Hmong immigrants in his Detroit neighborhood than his son's suburban,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7148585387688715995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7148585387688715995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#7148585387688715995' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6726322352342183689</id><published>2009-11-18T13:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T00:00:27.489-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Very Different Worlds: Films 81-8989. Kings and Queen Arnaud Desplechin's greatest trick as a storyteller is that just when you've made up your mind about what sort of movie it is you're watching, he turns down another direction entirely--and then again, and again. This approach is put to its most effective use in Kings &amp; Queen, a film about a divorced mother entering a second marriage with a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6726322352342183689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6726322352342183689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#6726322352342183689' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-7695607725973616714</id><published>2009-11-17T22:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T00:31:18.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Politics, Past and Present: Films 90-9494.The Lady and the Duke and 93.Shanghai Dreams Where the likes of Sofia Coppola and Baz Luhrmann traffic in unbridled anachronism for their period pieces, Erich Rohmer plays it meticulously faithful, save for one significant detail: his recounting of a Scottish aristocrat stuck in Paris during the French Revolution is shot on stunningly tactile digital </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7695607725973616714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7695607725973616714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#7695607725973616714' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-3518970175916131833</id><published>2009-11-17T18:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T00:32:05.597-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Wonderful Weirdos: Films 95-100100. Happy Here and Now and 99. Cloverfield Shot in pre-Katrina New Orleans, Michael Almereyda's widely slept-on film is many things: an oddball sci-fi one-off, a would-be whodunit, an incidental snapshot of a city on the eve of destruction, a muddled yet fascinating speculation of the near-future, a collection of eccentrics seemingly acting in different movies. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3518970175916131833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3518970175916131833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#3518970175916131833' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-4692408067272027022</id><published>2009-11-16T23:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T13:28:07.314-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Also-RansBetween now and the end of the year, in fits and starts of activity, I hope to post my list of the past decade's top 250 films. For the top 100, I plan on writing blurbs. To get things started off, for now, here are films 101-250:101. Far from Heaven (Haynes)102. Clean (Assayas)103. No Country for Old Men (Coen/Coen)104. About Schmidt (Payne)105. Dracula: Pages from a Virgin’s Diary </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4692408067272027022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4692408067272027022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#4692408067272027022' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6281934854392375823</id><published>2009-11-06T13:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T12:19:05.338-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Desperate MeasuresTo my tastes, A Serious Man is the Coen Brothers' strongest all-around effort since Barton Fink. (It's also, as of 2009's 11th hour, my pick for Movie of the Year, narrowly edging out Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds and Haneke's The White Ribbon.) Like the Coens' 1991 masterpiece, their latest centers on a semi-intellectual Jewish guy on the brink of an admittedly warranted </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6281934854392375823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6281934854392375823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html#6281934854392375823' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-4981401972582539805</id><published>2009-10-17T13:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T16:01:51.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Histoire(s) du CinemaNotes on the 2009 Vancouver International Film Festival:Adrift For me, this year's best out-of-the-blue surprise (Teresa picked it more or less as a time-slot filler) is Vietnamese director Thac Chuyen Bai's moody, seriocomic ensemble piece. The cast of characters includes a sexless newlywed couple, his fawning, overbearing mother, her semi-closeted lesbian friend, said </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4981401972582539805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4981401972582539805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_10_01_archive.html#4981401972582539805' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-1087177636486520296</id><published>2009-09-07T17:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T20:13:30.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Next StepsWatching TV Shows on DVD is the new Watching Movies in the Theatre (when you have a one year-old and no babysitter):Mad Men, Season 2 As coolly flawless as the first season, yet more balanced in its attention to its sprawling cast. Namely, Season 2 sensitively fleshes out its key female characters into human beings as complex and fascinating and frustrating as their male counterparts. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1087177636486520296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1087177636486520296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_09_01_archive.html#1087177636486520296' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-8552042971658945424</id><published>2009-08-26T13:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T14:23:12.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Serious BusinessThe most subversive thing about Inglorious Basterds isn't its scenes of Nazis getting scalped or clubbed to death with a baseball bat by Jewish-American vigilantes--or even the fact that Hitler himself gets his in Tarantino's jaw-dropping finale. Instead, it's how flawlessly measured the film's rhythms are and how little of the long-but-doesn't-feel-it runtime is actually occupied</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8552042971658945424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/8552042971658945424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_08_01_archive.html#8552042971658945424' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-7984289889820683585</id><published>2009-08-25T01:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:05:38.774-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Brief EncounterI've never seen the movie Twilight (or, for that matter, read any of the books), but I can't resist passing this short anecdote along: Earlier tonight, around 11:30 PM, I saw the main vampire guy and lead actress chick from Twilight hanging out, visibly stoned, smoking cigarettes outside a 7-Eleven in downtown Vancouver. I did a double-take and asked, "You're the guy from Twlight, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7984289889820683585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7984289889820683585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_08_01_archive.html#7984289889820683585' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-1779958949314070282</id><published>2009-08-10T22:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T23:30:11.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Not Fierce EnoughIs it reasonable to call Obsessed "disappointing"? Yes, I think it is, actually. It's not like I was expecting Terrence Malick or even, say, Adrian Lyne; I try to be an optimist at the start of every movie, but I'm also a realist. What I was hoping for was a prime slice of camp-tastic psychodrama--the sort of thing that one can design a drinking game around and rewatch endlessly </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1779958949314070282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/1779958949314070282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_08_01_archive.html#1779958949314070282' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-70311303050777054</id><published>2009-07-17T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T14:03:41.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Living in a HurricaneNew Miranda track! Between her Revolution and Blueprint 3, September really can't come soon enough!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/70311303050777054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/70311303050777054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#70311303050777054' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-5667563005706393648</id><published>2009-07-15T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T14:24:49.947-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>10 Songs, 10 SentencesBlack Eyed Peas - "Boom Boom Pow" Putrid; unlistenable. Ciara f/ Justin Timberlake - "Love Sex Magic" A grower, largely on the strength of that Much Music ad where it's intercut with "Circus." Eminem - "Beautiful" If he hadn't yet lost it when he made "Just Lose It," he sure has now. Keri Hilson f/ Kanye West &amp; Ne-Yo - "Knock You Down" Not bad, but not this year's "American </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5667563005706393648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/5667563005706393648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html#5667563005706393648' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-7413240144715513089</id><published>2009-06-27T12:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T17:50:19.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Never Can Say GoodbyeMichael Jackson--arguably music's most broadly significant figure since the Beatles and, for better or worse, one of American culture's most singular personalities--is gone, and what are we left with? Well, first and foremost, the music. That's not all, of course--how could it possibly be with a man as complex and unrelentingly scrutinized as MJ?--but, more than autopsy </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7413240144715513089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/7413240144715513089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_06_01_archive.html#7413240144715513089' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-2646652784927939712</id><published>2009-06-16T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T18:57:15.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dog DaysLast fall, I very nearly got to see Kelly Reichardt's Wendy and Lucy at VIFF '08. Alas, we couldn't quite squeeze it into our schedule; we still lived on the Island then and we had a ferry to catch. If I had been able to see the film--which I've only now caught up with--it would've placed at or near the top of my subsequent year-end list. My esteemed viewing-partner-for-life thinks the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2646652784927939712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/2646652784927939712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_06_01_archive.html#2646652784927939712' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-4793621918921622584</id><published>2009-04-14T13:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T14:06:51.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I Send Vibrations in Your DirectionThe new Metric is really good. Not just their most accomplished long-player to date (which it is) or the best thing I've encountered so far in '09 (ditto), but, like, the most inspired and thoroughly enjoyable rock record I've heard in years. "Gimme Sympathy" ("who would you rather be/the Beatles or the Rolling Stones?") is their bid for shimmering pop-rock </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4793621918921622584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/4793621918921622584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html#4793621918921622584' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-3100899280475562394</id><published>2009-04-11T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T23:56:00.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Top 40: '09Same as it ever was, and, admittedly, not that strikingly different from last year's list, partly because consistency is criteria numero uno and partly because my new music in-take has, of late, been pretty meager. And, jeez, I really hope Joanna and Miranda put something new out soon so two of my faves can (by my more or less arbitrary list rules) re-enter my (more or less arbitrary) </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3100899280475562394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/3100899280475562394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html#3100899280475562394' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5546360.post-6629328170051607751</id><published>2009-03-19T13:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T14:26:11.879-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Five Covers Live</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6629328170051607751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5546360/posts/default/6629328170051607751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jltjlt.blogspot.com/2009_03_01_archive.html#6629328170051607751' title=''/><author><name>Josh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15850988444899162385</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6G9OslA1MGw/TKAflfyCmFI/AAAAAAAAABg/uluG7rqdDwU/S220/IMG_3992.JPG'/></author></entry></feed>
