WE ARE NOT WORKING; WE ARE ON VACATION

That view won't enjoy itself, folks.


That corn won't shuck itself, children.


That ocean won't splash itself, Ruby and Emmie.


And that watermelon won't eat itself, Ginger.

RIC JACKMAN: STANLEY CUP WINNER

Congratulations to the former Penguin and reserve defenseman for the Ducks. Jackman may not have actually worked up a sweat in last night's clinching Game 5, but that's not atypical on a team where the top two D-men are each logging thirty minutes a game. And speaking of D-men, congratulations also to Randy Carlyle, the Ducks coach who was the best player on some lousy Penguins teams, and was so good, in fact, that Eddie Johnston was compelled to trade him to Winnipeg for a box of pucks to ensure the team would be lousy enough to draft Mario Lemieux.

So a West Coast team won the Cup for the first time and got to hold the best trophy presentation in all of sport before a home crowd? Let's hope that has some long-term impact in growing the sport. At the very least, the 17,372 who were there should be fans for life. I missed the Ducks' first two home games because I'm in the majority of Americans who doesn't get Versus, but the crowd seemed appreciative of the finer points of the game. And there's this: a vocal portion of them knew enough to boo Gary Bettman despite the fact that their team had won the Stanley Cup not five minutes beforehand.

May, 2007 Film Viewings

May the First: The Icarus of Pittsburgh
May the Fourth: The Painted Veil (1934)
May the Fifth: Interiors
May the Sixth: Safety Last
May the Eighth: Hot Fuzz
May the Fifteenth: Tokyo Drifter
May the Twentieth: The Companion
May the Twenty-sixth: Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man's Chest
May the Twenty-seventh: Sleeper

EDWARD FORTYHANDS

Meet the man behind the only big-budget summer movie I intend to catch on opening night.

Well done, Chuck Klosterman

I had some spare moments ¹ at the library recently and paged through a recent issue of Esquire. Chuck Klosterman has a nice piece about Andrew Bujalski's films² and the cinema of doing nothing, and his further viewing recommendations are pretty funny:

There's a long tradition of movies in which nothing happens, particularly in Russia; some would argue that director Andrei Tarkovsky (1932-1986) made the greatest, slowest films in cinematic history. However, American filmmakers can be just as compelling in ways that are almost as boring. Here are some classic Movies for Guys Who Like Movies That Will Never Appear on TBS.

Sleep (1963)
Nothing happens to an unconscious man Andy Warhol films for five hours and twenty-one minutes. For some reason, I would like to watch this movie with Thom Yorke.

My Dinner With Andre (1981)
Nothing happens to two men at a restaurant.

Metropolitan (1990)
Nothing happens to people who read The New Yorker.

Glengarry Glen Ross (1992)
Nothing happens to desperate misanthropes who attempt to sell real estate in a profane, merciless world. Disclaimer: Does include yelling and rainfall.

What Happened Was... (1994)
Nothing happens to two coworkers on an intimate first date (unless you count coming to the realization that they hate being alive as "something").

Flirt (1995)
Nothing happens three times.

Kicking & Screaming (1995)
Nothing happens to a bunch of postgraduate goofballs who enjoy literature and booze. Quite possibly the greatest artistic achievement of the twentieth century. Also of interest: Highball, an improvisational companion movie Noah Baumbach made (using much of the same cast) at roughly the same time. Nothing happens in Highball, either, despite the fact that two characters dress like Godzilla.

Gummo (1997)
Nothing happens to the fictionalized, freakish rednecks who inhabit the real-life community of Xenia, Ohio, a town profoundly devastated by a 1974 tornado. Wildly unpopular among members of the Xenia Board of Tourism.

Security, Colorado (2001)
Nothing happens to an underemployed woman with a sketchy boyfriend. Includes footage of the protagonist updating her résumé.

Gerry (2002)
Nothing happens to two hikers who get lost in a desert, one of whom is Matt Damon.

The Brown Bunny (2003)
Nothing happens to an asshole with a semidecent van and a huge cock. Better than advertised.

Primer (2004)
Nothing happens to two engineers, although they do wear ties, watch the NCAA tournament, and travel through time.

Old Joy (2006)
Nothing happens to Will Oldham.

1By "spare moments," I mean that I had a couple of hours at the library where I had intended to do some work. STUDIO 60 ON THE SUNSET STRIP wasn't very good television, but the show's signature image-- Matthew Perry's character sitting in front of a blank laptop screen with that damned omnipresent countdown clock hanging in his peripheral vision-- is a compelling one regardless of whether your writing experience is limited to procrastinated term papers in college or whether it extends beyond, into vocation and leisure.³ So there I was, within the controlled solitude of the library. Materials set before me with maximum organizational efficiency. Pen taken in hand and-- hey?-- What's that glint? Is that a new issue of Cycle World? It's been four years since my subscription ran out. Huh, I wonder what the new Ducatis look like. On my way over to the motorcycle magazine I see the Esquire and instinctively pick it up. And then I pick up two other magazines on the way back. You can guess from there how much I got done.


2 I don't read enough issues of Esquire to know if the Bujalski piece is typical of the focus of their featured film writing, but I was pretty jazzed about seeing it.

3 Ha ha. "Leisure writing."

Happy 10th birthday, Leah!

THE THING WITH THREE HEADS

L to R: Leah (10 in two weeks), who is rereading the Harry Potter books in eager anticipation of this summer's one-two punch of a new book and movie; Ruby (7), who is devoted with a white-hot intensity to the health and welfare of her Webkinz; and Virginia (3), who has been getting out of bed at night and putting her Spider-man costume over her pajamas. (Photo taken Easter morning, 2007)

April, 2007 Film Viewings

4.01 The Children's Hour
4.04 Thumbsucker
4.05 Charleen, or How Long Has This Been Going On?
4.06 Grindhouse
4.08 Popeye
4.09 Charleen, or How Long Has This Been Going On?
4.10 Inland Empire
4.14 Velvet Goldmine
4.15 High and Low
4.19 Dazed and Confused
4.23 The Thing With Two Heads
4.28 Exotica
4.29 Children of the Corn
4.30 Shattered Glass

#736 & #737

Ali and I sat through seven innnings of typically lackluster Pirate baseball on Friday night.

Abysmal starting pitching (especially first-inning starting pitching)? Check.

Weak hitting? Check.

Promotional item? Check.


Inexplicably ugly third jerseys? Check.

At least Barry made the night memorable by hitting #736 and #737. The first shot was to straightaway right, while the second landed in right-center. Both went to the short right field porch where Adam LaRoche was thought to be dropping some balls this season. Looks like it might be a whole lot less than we thought.

We were along the left field line near the foul pole, not far from where Barry played in the field. The amount and volume of the booing was pathetic. Maybe the rest of the league can use the steroid business as the reason to blow the guy off, but not the crowd here. Around these parts, Barry's booed for another reason: Whether we want to admit it or not, when Barry left, he took the winning with him.

MEMORANDUM

TO: Pittsburgh Penguins Fans

FROM: Russell Lucas

RE: 2007 Stanley Cup Playoffs Crowd Conduct Issues

It's been six long years since the Penguins darkened the door of the Stanley Cup playoffs. That drought is thankfully going to end within the next half-hour. Tickets for Games Three and Four of the series against the Senators (which the Penguins will win in five games) are already down to standing room-only and single seats. I expect the team will get a boost from the raucous and spirited home crowd, but figure this might be the time to mention a few lingering issues in the hope that we won't be embarrassed fanbasewise.

I. Ice Maiden Etiquette

Yes, I know they're lame. I don't know exactly whose terrible idea it was to add cheerleaders to NHL games or to give sequined and spandexed young women the job of cleaning up the ice instead of the overweight guys who always shuffled out during TV timeouts. I hope the fad fades, too. In the interim, though, don't abuse them. It's such a Ranger move.

II. The Wave

Listen, I can't say whether or not the last few games I attended were aberrations or part of a larger trend. All I know is that I saw The Wave, and there's just no excuse for that. There's really nothing more to say. You paid a lot of money for your tickets, so keep your eyes on the game and don't humiliate the city.

III. Kiss Cam Etiquette

While I am advocating the long-overdue elimination of The Wave, I am simultaneously urging you to continue the practice in place regarding the Kiss Cam. If the Cam should happen to alight upon you and your significant other, please do continue to grind tongue. This significantly enhances the entertainment value of the Kiss Cam. Do not fear that these displays are not classy. If the Arena management insists on subjecting you to the social coercion of training a camera on you in front of 17,000 people who vocally expect you to surrender your physical autonomy, then the least you and your companion can do is add some juice to the whole operation. In addition, soul kissing forces the Jumbotron producer to stay on his or her toes to cut away quickly. I'd like to see the day come when an entire Kiss Cam segment is edited like a Michael Bay movie.

Further, keep this tactic in mind if you should be in the same unfortunate position as this poor bastard. If you have some unresolved business with Johnny Law, there is no quicker way to have the camera leave you alone than to fill your date's mouth with your tongue. Don't forget this.

IV. Jaromir Jagr

Finally, while there is no way to safely predict whether his team will make it to the second round, I need to address an ongoing issue with regard to a former player now employed by the New York Rangers. Jaromir Jagr scored his 600th goal last November. Not many hockey players get there, and fewer still get there at the age of 34. It's typically an achievement reserved to long-time goal scorers scratching around in the last year or two of their careers. A night or so later he scored a couple more times to move into 15th overall and 1st among European goal-scorers. 439 of those goals, along with 640 assists, came while he wore a Penguins uniform. Apparently none of that matters, though. When the Rangers come to Mellon Arena the home crowd shows him the same sort of reception reserved in days gone by for the likes of Eric Lindros, Adam Graves or Ron Hextall.

I really don't get it. And I'm saying this as someone who fell in love with the raw intensity of a hockey crowd when, at eighteen, my dad took me to a Flyers-Penguins playoff game. The noise was so deafening that I was absolutely, positively convinced that our relentless chanting (and not the ten pucks put behind him) was what drove Hextall to his ill-advised decision to chase Rob Brown around the north end of the Civic Arena while wielding his goalie stick. So I know a little something about the upside of the angry crowd dynamic. I should also mention that the first pro football game I attended in person was the infamous 1984 Pittsburgh Maulers-Birmingham Stallions game, in which 65,000 fans used both drunken jeers and the perfect packing snow (which had been miraculously/intentionally left in the aisles at Three Rivers Stadium) to express their displeasure at Cliff Stoudt's incompetence as a pro quarterback and his brazen decision to take his incompetence to a joke league. Another fun story, though perhaps not the finest hour for humanity.

So, my question is this: what could possibly justify treating Jaromir Jagr in the same fashion as Ron Hextall or Cliff Stoudt? How can Jagr get the same sort of reception as Barry Bonds or Kordell Stewart?

Let me refresh your recollection:



Remember that goal? The one that Jagr said he "didn't know enough English to describe" and which Mario called the greatest goal he'd ever seen. That was the goal that buried the Blackhawks. Sure, Mario's actual game-winner came with a handful of seconds left in the third, but Jagr's goal was the psychological back-breaker, the one that announced there was no way that team was hanging with the Penguins over a seven-game series. Yeah, they could win a period or two, as they had in Game 1, but they wouldn't be holding the Cup at the end. They had to know it.

Whenever the Penguins would play the Capitals in Landover in the early- to mid-1990s, some loud protion of the Caps fans in attendance (that it, those who hadn't scalped their tickets to Penguins fans) would always make a whoop-whoop-whooping sound every time Penguin Larry Murphy touched the puck. It sounded weird, but apparently it was intended to show their displeasure following the years he spent with the Caps. It always struck me as a pathetic and self-loathing chant. The fans were taunting a guy who came to the Penguins after stays in Minnesota and Washington who immediately proceeded to win two Stanley Cups while being the most important blueliner on the most exciting NHL team of the early nineties. He fell up the stairs, went from rags to riches. You think he cared about the Washington fans holding a grudge against him? Of course not. Jagr, in contrast, hasn't improved his position since he forced the trade. Still, don't be that guy. Be the guy enjoying his own ridiculously talented team.

Looks Like They Cut Him Just In Time

The Joey Porter who played for the Steelers never would have apologized, for crying out loud.

March, 2007 Film Viewings

march the first: God grew tired of us
march the third: raiders of the lost ark
march the seventh: the passenger
march the eighth: superstar: the karen carpenter story
march the ninth: hiroshima mon amour
march the twenty-seventh: muriel's wedding

Dish Network Should Pay the Penguins a Commission

Back in the 2000-2001 season, the Penguins gave in to eight years' worth of fan complaints and brought back the familiar skating penguin logo shown to the left. The bad news to this good news was that the team replaced the taxicab yellow that Pittsburgh sports teams have long worn with a glittery hue they call "Vegas gold." Of course, I always figured this was a description, and not a prediction.

I've been following the Pittsburgh Penguins on a consistent basis for half my life now-- since 1989-- and some expectation of (1) impending financial ruin, (2) relocation, or (3) farce is part of being a fan of the team. In 1975 the team filed for bankruptcy to get breathing room from creditors and the players and coaches were padlocked out of their practice facility. The team's then-GM nakedly tanked the second half of the 1983-1984 season to set them up to draft Mario Lemieux. Just eight years ago, the team hired the greatest Czech hockey coach to lead the team despite the guy not knowing English, only to fire him after he disobeyed an off-season order to learn the language.

Still, though, the current situation might beat all of those. Last night fans kept one eye on the home game against the Devils and one eye on the impromptu meeting in Philadelphia between the team's owners and the state and local officials who are controlling the purse strings over the unbuilt arena. Lingering over all this is the ubiquitous file photo of the half-completed arena in Kansas City, a chandelier-like structure that's giving the team a come hither look.

At the same time, the on-the-ice outlook couldn't be brighter. After trading Jaromir Jagr in 2001, the team spent four seasons bottom-feeding for lottery picks, and that failure has paid off. The team's solidly positioned to make the playoffs this year, and the fans have responded with standing room-only sellouts. Even after last week's deadline deal for a 30 year-old and a 40 year-old, the Penguins possess one of the more unique distributions of scoring by age group, with four forwards scoring more than twenty goals and the ages of those players being 18, 19, 20 and 39. There's a literal generation gap in scoring prowess, not to mention the decided deficit in playoff experience that was made a bit better with the acquisition of Gary Roberts and Georges Laracque. Still, the young talent is routinely drawing comparisons to the early '80s Gretzky-Messier-Kurri-Coffey Edmonton Oilers. And the youth of the players has helped to stir the enthusiasm of that other demographic particularly immune to Pittsburgh's charms-- the 18-35 set who comes to Pittsburgh to go to school, then leaves to find employment elsewhere.

We knew Crosby was great, but he's matured into the team's de facto captain and will win the Art Ross trophy, at least, this year. We knew Evgeni Malkin was going to be great, but his 30 goals have exceeded even those expectations. Jordan Staal wasn't expected to make the team right out of being drafted in the first round, but he has not only been a fierce penalty-killer, he's also showing way too much offensive skill to be saddled with less than fifteen minutes a game of ice time spent mostly in penalty-killing and checking-line duties. He's got a 26% shooting percentage, and is one of only five players in the league who has scored more than twenty goals with a shooting percentage of 20% or better.

So where does that leave me? We moved into our current house two years and two weeks ago, and since that time we've been without cable TV. I could probably have gone on indefinitely with rabbit ears and Netflix, but the 14-0-2 run by the Penguins which ended two weeks ago pretty much cinched the decision to get some sort of pay TV. I mean, watching highlights on the internet or the local news and catching the occasional game in person or at a bar is one thing, but the team actually making the playoffs and me not watching is something else entirely.

The Dish Network guy comes on Tuesday, a few hours before the Penguins-Sabres game.

It's Funny How Thought Processes Process

My mom bought me a few articles of clothing and some of it didn't fit. So last night I was standing in the store deciding between a half-dozen garments-- nylon, cotton, fleece-- and I said to myself, "Now, which of these was made in Cambodia?

February, 2007 Film Viewings

2/2 TUCK EVERLASTING
2/3 TWO OR THREE THINGS I KNOW ABOUT HER
2/6 SNAKES ON A PLANE
2/7 IL GRIDO
2/9 THANK YOU FOR SMOKING
2/10 HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE
2/11 THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI
2/15 ALL ABOUT EVE
2/16 MARIE ANTOINETTE
2/17 BRIDGE TO TERABITHIA
2/18 CHICAGO
2/20 VOYAGE TO ITALY
2/22 HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE
2/23 RAGING BULL
2/24 BLACK BEAUTY
2/25 CINDERELLA
2/26 PLAYTIME
2/27 LA NOTTE

take, the

Belaboring this at all would just be pathetic, but the primary pleasure I derive from having a birthday these days is celebrating it with the girls. Virginia, in particular, was almost insanely excited about the belated birthday dinner we found a few hours to hold tonight, in a week where scheduling snares have absented me from home with nighttime meetings from Monday through Thursday. Oh, and I still get a big kick out of getting gifts. This year's haul: from Virginia, a cute craft she made in preschool; from Leah and Ruby, Criterion's reissue of Tati's PLAYTIME; from Ali, a year of Film Comment; from my mom, a big pimpin' nylon track suit; from my dad, three years worth of ESPN The Magazine * and a year of The Hockey News.

I would like to think that I am the only person alive to show up on the subscriber lists of both Film Comment and The Hockey News, but off the top of my head it seems to me that some or all of Guy Maddin, J. Robert Parks and Jeremy Smith may fit that profile, or fit it at one time.




* Last year my dad sent me a year of Sports Illustrated so that I could bask in the largess of their Steelers Victorious! package. You mean to tell me this is the same magazine that once overpaid Hemingway to write an article on bullfighting? It's abysmal. SI now spends more pages giving fantasy football tips than it does actually covering the NFL. I can't recall a single serious and well-written article about sports and culture or nature in SI in the past year that was written exclusively for the magazine. Anything even remotely high-end was excerpted from a book, and while David Maraniss's bio of Roberto Clemente and Michael Lewis's account of Michael Oher seem like good books, there's no reason at all to credit that to SI. Mind you, I'm not expecting the print version of The Worldwide Leader to contribute much to BEST AMERICAN SPORTS WRITING 2007, but at least their snark won't have the accompanying stench of faded significance.

Good films being made (and ignored) for comparatively little

In the midst of all the inconsequential run-up and hype surrounding the impending Oscars, I was really happy to see this article in today's morning paper. Based on experience, I would have expected just a blurb next week listing the winners of the Independent Spirit Awards. I can't vouch for the quality of any of the nominees apart from OLD JOY, but I'll seek out the eventual DVD releases and I'm willing to wager that there's more thoughtful filmmaking here on balance. And with direct producer-to-viewer modes of distribution coming into focus, there's reason to see a silver lining in the clouds. Also: wow. Just $30,000 to make OLD JOY? And I'd rather see it twice again than sit through the PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN sequel a second time.

How Cold Is It?

While the car's thermometer waffled between 0 degrees and 1 degree on my way to work this morning, the real indication is this: in my fully-heated car, my fully-charged iPod wouldn't play.

AN OLD PHOTO (FOR KAETHE)

January, 2007 film viewings

1.1 TALLADEGA NIGHTS
1.2 10th DISTRICT COURT
1.3 MONSTER HOUSE
1.5 LEMONY SNICKET'S A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS
1.6 ARMY OF SHADOWS
1.7 M. HULOT'S HOLIDAY
1.12 LITTLE CHILDREN
1.13 CHILDREN OF MEN
1.14 SINGIN' IN THE RAIN
1.20 PAN'S LABYRINTH
ARMY OF SHADOWS
1.21 STORY OF A LOVE AFFAIR
TO BE OR NOT TO BE
1.22 THE LOST BOYS OF SUDAN
WEDLOCK HOUSE: AN INTERCOURSE
1.24 A SCANNER DARKLY
1.27 THE DEVIL'S BACKBONE

Yeah, this.

Insight:

There's an excellent chance the next Steelers coach will be a no-nonsense Western Pennsylvania tough guy, who, despite such a style, is loved by his players. He'll be a coach who will give time to the media, but not gladly. He'll be angry in defeat and step to the back in victory. He'll have little use for small talk and will have an extremely small circle of confidants.

No, Bill Cowher is not being rehired.

By most indications, assistant head coach Russ Grimm is being promoted.

A Query

What has two thumbs and is glad he didn't take his two HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL-mad kids to see the stage version when it came through town last week?

This guy.

Hypocrisy?

http://attorney-wastrel.blogspot.com/2005/08/birth-of-nation.html

Sid's 20th Goal

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Seriously, the Calder Trophy is nothing, and I fully agree with that result on the basis alone of Ovechkin's twenty or so highlight reel goals from last year. There are bigger trophies out there, like the Ross and Hart, and Crosby's making a run at both of them this year. He's a better passer than Ovechkin, and now he's got his own off-his-skates goal for the For Your Consideration clips. He's still running roughly 1:2 in goals-to-assists, but if he keeps playing with Malkin and Recchi, I don't see anything other than an injury keeping him from the scoring title. I have doubts as to whether a one-line team, even with its one line like that one, will be able to make the playoffs this year, but we'll see an uptick in team defense when Mark Eaton returns from his wrist injury in the next month. At the very least, it should go down to the last few weeks.

2007

These are not resolutions.

First: In 2007 I vow to do everything within my power to eradicate (or, at the very least, mercilessly ridicule) one of the two stupidest rhetorical devices in common use by nonfiction writers.* Recent examples read in just the past few days are this article from the Post-Gazette's sports page and also in this article Bill Gates wrote for Scientific American about robots. The device is nearly always found in the opening paragraph of the piece and is easily spotted. The writer will describe a thing or condition in somewhat vague detail, but without actually naming it. Then, after painting this inexact portrait, the writer pulls the rug out. It turns out that instead of broadly describing the thing we were all thinking, the writer was actually describing something else obviously similar to it! Ho HO! You mean to say you weren't describing the Steelers, but rather the Bengals? I surely never would have suspected there were such similarities between 8-8 football teams. Can this be? You're not actually just talking about the present state of robot technology, but reiterating the recent history of personal computer technology? That's clever!

I'm inclined to label this rhetorical time-wasting a Plainly-Obvious Switcheroo, but that's due in part to the acronym it yields. I'm open to suggestions as to what it is called. I'll be spending some part of 2007 linking to and mocking the worst uses of this device.

* In case you were wondering (you weren't), the other stupidest rhetorical device in common use is the "lead off with an unattributed quote that seems to be describing a present-day state and then grandly reveal that the quote was said at a time and place commonly thought to be idyllic and free from the menace described in the quote" manuever.

Second: Because this worked to perfection last year, I reiterate it here in modified form: I vow to watch the Pittsburgh Penguins win the Stanley Cup in 2007. Whether the team then promptly relocates to Kansas City is another matter.

Third: I vow to wait until at least January 19, 2007 before getting a haircut.

Fourth: I vow to have my 1040 completed and filed on or before February 20, 2007.

Fifth: I vow to housetrain the one on the left.

December, 2006 film viewings

12.9 SUPERMAN RETURNS
12.10 LITTLE CHILDREN
12.31 CHARLOTTE'S WEB (2006)

No, not a misprint. This might provide some insight into what I'd like to see change in 2007.

Capitulation

DECEMBER 25, 2006

DEAR LEAH,

HO HO HO! I hope you enjoy what I’ve brought you! I think you will. After you’ve read this letter, go downstairs and see what’s waiting for you.

You have to give him a name, OK?

I know that you will take good care of what I have left. You will be responsible for taking care of him, but you should let other people play with him and love him, too. He has enough love for everybody!

I know that when you sat on my lap we talked about how you would need to do a lot of work to keep him. I know you will do well. There are some things that you need to do in particular.

First, read the book that I’ve left for you, starting with the chapter on housetraining. Second, take him for walks on his leash at least twice a day, even when it is cold. Third, clean up after any messes he makes inside or outside. Fourth, he should sleep in his crate until he has been fully trained. Fifth, give him a hundred hugs and kisses a day!

Merry Christmas, Leah!

SANTA

P.S. He’s about ten weeks old. He’s a mix of Cairn Terrier and Shih Tzu.

The telephone conversation I just had with my dad:

He: What time do the Steelers play tomorrow?
I: 1:00, I think.
He: Are they at home?
I: No, it's in Carolina. Well, I guess that means it's a home game for Cowher, but it's an away game for the team.

There have been a lot of complaints about the NHL's unbalanced schedule.

And, to a large degree, I agree with them. While the increased number of intradivisional games have helped to try to recreate some of the longstanding and rancorous divisional feuds, it's also taken away one of the draws of seeing hockey in person. Under the old schedule, I always thought that one great argument for buying season tickets was that even with the sport essentially untelevised on any sort of wide, national level, you'd have the chance to see every great player in person at least once a year. That's not the case any more, and one of the public relations downsides for the sport that I've seen cited a few places is that with the unbalanced schedule there are certain Western Conference markets that won't have an opportunity to see the Penguins' young talent-- Crosby, Malkin, Fleury and Staal-- in person any more often than once every three years.

For his part, Crosby also agrees that the schedule needs to be changed. He'd like to see a setup where the Penguins play the Flyers 82 times a year. In the 5 wins this season, Sid's piled up 15 points (7 goals, 8 assists), or 7.5 points for every tooth of his Derian Hatcher chipped last year. Over a full season, that translates to a SEGA NHL '95esque 246 points (115 goals, 131 assists).

DISCUSS:

(Do not care if this is old webjunk)

OLD JOY

I saw OLD JOY through the Three Rivers Film Festival as the front-end of a double feature with CLIMATES. I think it's an impressive film, and I'd like to see the rest of Kelly Reichardt's work.

To its credit, OLD JOY is not terribly preoccupied with plot. It follows two men-- Mark (Daniel London) and Kurt (Will Oldham)-- who take a weekend camping trip to some remote hot springs. Both men are wrestling with adulthood, albeit in different forms, and their friendship (which seems to have originated in college or thereabouts) has faded over time and as a result of their varying stations. Kurt is an unreconstructed hippie; he talks a little about some ongoing schooling and mentions that he doesn't expect to be allowed to live in his house for much longer. When he calls Mark to ask him to go on the trip, Mark seems ambivalent. He'd like to have a weekend away from his pregnant wife, but solicits her permission so as not to appear too eager. The men intended to drive Kurt's shag-carpeted van to the mountains, but settle instead on Mark's more reliable Volvo wagon. Mark's dog comes along on the trip.

The two men start out on their journey, get lost along the way, ask for directions and finally find the place they're looking for-- hot springs reachable after a lengthy hike through the forest. But the act of reaching the hot springs, and the physical sensation of being in the springs, is of lesser significance than the insights into each of the characters picked up along the way.

The trappings of Mark's comparative stability-- the wife with child, the newish car, the talk of a community program he has started-- are the outwards symbols of the divergent ends the friends have chosen, but they're ultimately unnecessary in telling us that these two have less in common than they once did. When Mark and Kurt talk about things, past or present, there's an undercurrent of inequality, as if what Mark regards with a fond but faraway remembrance is still present-tense for Kurt. As Mark and Kurt walk though the backdrop of lush forests that remain unchanged by time, their routine and destination is the same as it presumably was a decade ago, but they're not. There's still the common interest of the springs and the hike, but not much else. The divide is generally played out quietly, with jokes or remarks that seem to be offered plaintively and responded to politely. In keeping with the film's understatement, no attempt is made to plumb the depths of their difference, or to talk things out and relentlessly hammer home the obvious. They've just changed. At one point things do bubble up suddenly, as Kurt tries to rub Mark's bare shoulder while Mark lies in a spring. It's a friendly gesture, meant to show how much Kurt wants Mark to be relaxed, but the intimacy necessary to pull off something like that is long since gone, and it comes off as creepy, with Mark responding angrily.

The title comes from a line in the film which defines sorrow as used-up joy. When the men get back to town, they return to the lives that divide them. Reichardt's subtlety holds at this important moment, and she resists giving us the scene where Mark settles into bed with his wife, hand resting on her pregnant belly and faithful dog at the foot of the bed. It is enough, way enough, to see Kurt not long after he is dropped off meandering around outside a store, fumbling into one ambiguous social encounter or another, searching for the sort of fellowship that can't be revived even by walking together through the world's beauty.