The other week, for a few brief, panicky moments, I literally forgot what a VCR was called. My mind scrambled to recall the correct name of "that thing that played tapes."
Oy.
It came as a surprise to me, because when I was growing up, I used our VCR a lot. So much so, that as a still very young child, I knew how to adjust the tracking to clear up the picture, even if I didn't know exactly what it meant.
Tapes were a thing. Back then, we didn't go to Blockbuster, choosing instead to frequent a placed called The Video. The building's still there; in the years since the movie store left, it's been about five restaurants. Another strip mall (torn down now)held a small video store that we also went to. This one, I remember vividly, had a large picture of Chucky on the wall and a sign that said "Even Freddie and Jason were kids once too." Apparently it was from a horror movie called Mikey.
The result of all this is that I took to indiscriminately shoving tapes into our VCR. This included some home movies, my mom's copy of Dirty Dancing, and a Denise Austin workout tape from 1986. Also the Wizard of Oz and 101 Dalmatians, the latter of which was later taped over with an episode of Regis and Kathy Lee, because someone at some time had the bright idea to make the record button bright red.
Anyone remember the movies that McDonald's used to sell on VHS at Christmas?
Man, where's my Rudolph tape? I am in serious need of a 7UP commercial right now.
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Friday, October 12, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Vampires Make Good Business Partners
And they won't bleed you dry, pun quite intended.
Knowing that this book, when it's done and ready, will be shoved out of the nest and into a crowd of other self-published books, is a scary thing. I mean, I like my ideas. I like that I have control over the project. I sort of relish the idea of producing this book by myself, because I promise I'm gonna make it sweet.
But it's scary and off-putting to most people because they're afraid they'll never experience what I call (and there are probably other names for it in this line of work) the Twilight effect.
It has very very little to do with vampires, and a heck of a lot to do with how the publishing business works at its best and most organic moments.
In the fall of 2008, I worked at our local Books-a-Million while taking a semester off of college. If you remember, that was the year that the first Twilight film was released, in November, just before Thanksgiving. I honestly didn't know much about that series except for that they had vampires and were really popular.
I was working the day after the movie came out, and I obviously hadn't seen it yet. A lot of customers who came in that day requested at least one of the Twilight books, often the first one. Why?
They liked the movie.
They liked it so well, they bought the first book, and maybe the second. Eventually, we actually ran out of copies of New Moon (which was frustrating, because Christmas.) We sold a lot of copies of Twilight that season. The best part was that people who enjoyed the first book would come back and buy all of them. This meant a larger audience for the next film. That meant more books sold.
It did help that the series was already a bestseller, of course. Money was spent to produce the book and film series.
I'd say they got a return on their investment. That's how business works.
One of the hesitations in the decision to self-publish is knowing that it's very, very likely that there won't be a film franchise to boost sales.
But seeing that demonstration of how the publishing business works is encouraging, because ultimately, during that Christmas season, that bookstore did really well because of word of mouth business.
It's exciting because communication is at the heart of society now. Of business. When given two differing reviews of a product, people are autonomous enough that they want to find out for themselves. And maybe they'll talk about it.
People talk.
And that's awesome.
Knowing that this book, when it's done and ready, will be shoved out of the nest and into a crowd of other self-published books, is a scary thing. I mean, I like my ideas. I like that I have control over the project. I sort of relish the idea of producing this book by myself, because I promise I'm gonna make it sweet.
But it's scary and off-putting to most people because they're afraid they'll never experience what I call (and there are probably other names for it in this line of work) the Twilight effect.
It has very very little to do with vampires, and a heck of a lot to do with how the publishing business works at its best and most organic moments.
In the fall of 2008, I worked at our local Books-a-Million while taking a semester off of college. If you remember, that was the year that the first Twilight film was released, in November, just before Thanksgiving. I honestly didn't know much about that series except for that they had vampires and were really popular.
I was working the day after the movie came out, and I obviously hadn't seen it yet. A lot of customers who came in that day requested at least one of the Twilight books, often the first one. Why?
They liked the movie.
They liked it so well, they bought the first book, and maybe the second. Eventually, we actually ran out of copies of New Moon (which was frustrating, because Christmas.) We sold a lot of copies of Twilight that season. The best part was that people who enjoyed the first book would come back and buy all of them. This meant a larger audience for the next film. That meant more books sold.
It did help that the series was already a bestseller, of course. Money was spent to produce the book and film series.
I'd say they got a return on their investment. That's how business works.
One of the hesitations in the decision to self-publish is knowing that it's very, very likely that there won't be a film franchise to boost sales.
But seeing that demonstration of how the publishing business works is encouraging, because ultimately, during that Christmas season, that bookstore did really well because of word of mouth business.
It's exciting because communication is at the heart of society now. Of business. When given two differing reviews of a product, people are autonomous enough that they want to find out for themselves. And maybe they'll talk about it.
People talk.
And that's awesome.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Remakes, or I Think I'm Old Now
So this past weekend, Season 7 of Doctor Who premiered. We get BBC America. Naturally, I commandeered the TV for watching a little Who. I won't spoil it for you, I promise, but there were Daleks (the name of the episode mentioned them, so really, not a spoiler.) After that, I watched Sherlock Holmes (the 2009 movie.) The night before, I had started watching The Hitcher (from 1986) on Youtube, and finished that movie up.
That's quite a lot of input into my poor little brain. I ended up having some dream in which there was a suicide note and I was turning into a Dalek. Pretty tame, actually. I had a dream with bandaids that made me gag, so I'll take the Dalek thing over that any day. (I hate bandaids.)
Lately I've been on an 80s kick. That happens every couple of years. Literally I will possibly soon be all about the 90s, which is when I actually grew up. But the 80s fascinate me right now, and coincidentally, a lot of my favorite movies were made then. I'd read some good reviews of The Hitcher (the original) and checked it out.
It was a decently creepy movie. There was gore, yes, but not a lot of it, no more than anything I've seen watching any of the crime shows I watch. It wasn't a slasher flick, in other words, but very psychological.
But they made a remake in 2007.
Sean Bean played the antagonist.
I haven't seen that one, and I don't really want to. For one, I can never really take that actor seriously as a bad guy. He's too human. He might play a criminal, but he's never unlikeable. Also, 2007 is possibly one of the worst years you could have picked to make a movie in which a lower antagonist is the absolute isolation of the highway, with no cell phone and no one you can trust. The original was scary because if you were driving alone, then you were really driving alone and unconnected.
So I wonder how the approximately million remakes coming up will hold together. I mean, they already remade Footloose. I don't know if it was any good, but it appeared to be all about country music and line dancing, with all the fun of a CW "next week on" promo. Pretty in Pink is most likely next, and I've already heard that they're remaking Dirty Dancing, though that may be just a rumor. (Hopefully a rumor, because it would probably be just pretty much one of the Step Up movies, and uhm, ew.) They've already remade Red Dawn. I saw the trailer, and it looks to be pretty good, from a technical movie standpoint. But is it believable?
*sigh*
I feel old. I'm defending movies older than me.
I'm gonna be like one of those kids I knew in college, who were born at the age of like 85, only unlike Benjamin Button, never got younger.
Someone get me some sugary cereal now. I need to grow down.
That's quite a lot of input into my poor little brain. I ended up having some dream in which there was a suicide note and I was turning into a Dalek. Pretty tame, actually. I had a dream with bandaids that made me gag, so I'll take the Dalek thing over that any day. (I hate bandaids.)
Lately I've been on an 80s kick. That happens every couple of years. Literally I will possibly soon be all about the 90s, which is when I actually grew up. But the 80s fascinate me right now, and coincidentally, a lot of my favorite movies were made then. I'd read some good reviews of The Hitcher (the original) and checked it out.
It was a decently creepy movie. There was gore, yes, but not a lot of it, no more than anything I've seen watching any of the crime shows I watch. It wasn't a slasher flick, in other words, but very psychological.
But they made a remake in 2007.
Sean Bean played the antagonist.
I haven't seen that one, and I don't really want to. For one, I can never really take that actor seriously as a bad guy. He's too human. He might play a criminal, but he's never unlikeable. Also, 2007 is possibly one of the worst years you could have picked to make a movie in which a lower antagonist is the absolute isolation of the highway, with no cell phone and no one you can trust. The original was scary because if you were driving alone, then you were really driving alone and unconnected.
So I wonder how the approximately million remakes coming up will hold together. I mean, they already remade Footloose. I don't know if it was any good, but it appeared to be all about country music and line dancing, with all the fun of a CW "next week on" promo. Pretty in Pink is most likely next, and I've already heard that they're remaking Dirty Dancing, though that may be just a rumor. (Hopefully a rumor, because it would probably be just pretty much one of the Step Up movies, and uhm, ew.) They've already remade Red Dawn. I saw the trailer, and it looks to be pretty good, from a technical movie standpoint. But is it believable?
*sigh*
I feel old. I'm defending movies older than me.
I'm gonna be like one of those kids I knew in college, who were born at the age of like 85, only unlike Benjamin Button, never got younger.
Someone get me some sugary cereal now. I need to grow down.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
The All-American Drive-In Theater
Okay Google. I'll bite.
Today is June 6, and for students of history such as myself, it is the anniversary of the Invasion of Normandy, an event that gave the Allies a nice little foothold into Europe. Germany surrendered less than a year later.
Yet Google has instead chosen to observe the founding of the first drive-in movie theater.
I do understand though. Google has never been just what everyone expected, and everyone expects a moving tribute to the men who fell from the sky and the ones who stormed the beaches. Possibly a flag should wave somewhere. Google is on a quest for uniqueness.
I swear I can link the two. Watch me make logical magic.
The drive-in theater is an icon in American culture, the latter of which would not be the same thing it is now without a decisive victory for the Allies in WWII.
So I shall now observe the All-American drive-in movie theater, examined psuedo-closely in three films.
Many a film, in an interesting meta-ish practice, depicts teenagers going to the drive-in on the weekends. Ususally these are older films, so the nostalgia is there.
In 1978's Grease, the drive-in watches over the students of Rydell High School and acts as sort of a parental figure. The cool parent. The one good with everything, just there to make sure you're okay, but hey man. It's cool. Whatever. It's the sympathetic shoulder to cry on because that scene in particular is where Sandy and Danny break up. It's back there all "Hey, it'll be okay. Life will get better, I promise."
A tragic, but ultimately uplifting appearance of the humble drive-in theater is in 1984's Red Dawn. In this film, the small town of Calumet Colorado (which is both real and fictional*) is invaded by Soviet troops. The drive-in theater is fenced in and converted to a reeducation camp. We see it twice, once when two brothers and a friend sneak there and find that their dad is imprisoned, and where they effectively say goodbye to him for the last time. In the background is the drive-in theater, blasted with Soviet propaganda. And it just stands there, ever the picture of the slow burn that is the American temper. It will get its revenge, says the screen. You wait. Eventually, that happens when the kids do assault the camp and attempt to free everyone inside, and the projector ends up with graffiti on it, defiantly displaying Wolverines in big letters. The drive-in prevails.
And last but never least is the drive-in's appearance in 1996's Twister. The film's not-quite climax features a huge tornado tearing into the screen while The Shining plays on. Parts of the screen are ripped away as Jack Nicholson hacks wildly at the door his wife hides behind. And the screen just takes it. Like a champ. Truly American.
And so friends, I believe that Google's tribute to the drive-in on this particular date is appropriate, because without the Invasion of Normandy, maybe we wouldn't still have the American tradition of the drive-in.
*It's a ghost town that was abandoned sometime in the 70s. Basically, the makers of the film used the name and setting for a middle America feel, but filmed the actual scenes in Las Vegas, New Mexico. My brother at at the McDonald's that appears in the film. Apparently they're fans of salsa verde on burgers.
**Also, one of my available tags is "disasterssarcasm." It's a great new word and all, but I really don't know how it happened.
Today is June 6, and for students of history such as myself, it is the anniversary of the Invasion of Normandy, an event that gave the Allies a nice little foothold into Europe. Germany surrendered less than a year later.
Yet Google has instead chosen to observe the founding of the first drive-in movie theater.
I do understand though. Google has never been just what everyone expected, and everyone expects a moving tribute to the men who fell from the sky and the ones who stormed the beaches. Possibly a flag should wave somewhere. Google is on a quest for uniqueness.
I swear I can link the two. Watch me make logical magic.
The drive-in theater is an icon in American culture, the latter of which would not be the same thing it is now without a decisive victory for the Allies in WWII.
So I shall now observe the All-American drive-in movie theater, examined psuedo-closely in three films.
Many a film, in an interesting meta-ish practice, depicts teenagers going to the drive-in on the weekends. Ususally these are older films, so the nostalgia is there.
In 1978's Grease, the drive-in watches over the students of Rydell High School and acts as sort of a parental figure. The cool parent. The one good with everything, just there to make sure you're okay, but hey man. It's cool. Whatever. It's the sympathetic shoulder to cry on because that scene in particular is where Sandy and Danny break up. It's back there all "Hey, it'll be okay. Life will get better, I promise."
A tragic, but ultimately uplifting appearance of the humble drive-in theater is in 1984's Red Dawn. In this film, the small town of Calumet Colorado (which is both real and fictional*) is invaded by Soviet troops. The drive-in theater is fenced in and converted to a reeducation camp. We see it twice, once when two brothers and a friend sneak there and find that their dad is imprisoned, and where they effectively say goodbye to him for the last time. In the background is the drive-in theater, blasted with Soviet propaganda. And it just stands there, ever the picture of the slow burn that is the American temper. It will get its revenge, says the screen. You wait. Eventually, that happens when the kids do assault the camp and attempt to free everyone inside, and the projector ends up with graffiti on it, defiantly displaying Wolverines in big letters. The drive-in prevails.
And last but never least is the drive-in's appearance in 1996's Twister. The film's not-quite climax features a huge tornado tearing into the screen while The Shining plays on. Parts of the screen are ripped away as Jack Nicholson hacks wildly at the door his wife hides behind. And the screen just takes it. Like a champ. Truly American.
And so friends, I believe that Google's tribute to the drive-in on this particular date is appropriate, because without the Invasion of Normandy, maybe we wouldn't still have the American tradition of the drive-in.
*It's a ghost town that was abandoned sometime in the 70s. Basically, the makers of the film used the name and setting for a middle America feel, but filmed the actual scenes in Las Vegas, New Mexico. My brother at at the McDonald's that appears in the film. Apparently they're fans of salsa verde on burgers.
**Also, one of my available tags is "disasterssarcasm." It's a great new word and all, but I really don't know how it happened.
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