Bright Lights, Small City

Live from the Traverse City Film Festival. We stood for an hour in a standby line outside this cool theater and just slipped in for a midnight showing of the crazy Norwegian zombie flick "Dead Snow." A soon-to-be cult classic. Had the added benefit of seeing Michael Moore and Jeff Garlin hanging around outside.

She Rides A Crimson Shell

Last year, I visited the BlogIndiana Social Media Conference in Indianapolis and had my mind opened to the Next Big Thing. A long-time believer in microcinema and grassroots DV, I saw a new model coming that I would need to know about to keep my day job afloat (as well as my humble, fragile screenwriting career loyal readers come here to learn about) and wanted to sniff out more about it. Astoundingly, this year I will be speaking at BlogIndiana. Is my entry into these hallowed digital halls signalling the death knell of Web 2.0? Only time will tell.

I am getting dangerously hooked not only on my Kindle (just snagged some inexpensive Allan Guthrie noir) but www.paperbackswap.com, a magical place where you can get rid of modern trashy paperbacks you don't want any more and trade them for golden guilty pleasures like Samuel R. Delany and Day Keene. This site is a vast improvement over www.bookcrossing.com, in my opinion, which I often referred to as "Book Throwing Away Club."

The good news for me is that usually a big spate of reading forecasts the brain food for a long bout of writing, so stay tuned. Until later I am at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

The Teeth of a Hydra

My wife bought me a Kindle for Father's Day/birthday/maybe a piece of our anniversary and I would like to think it was out of undiluted love but it was more likely because I just own too many books. My recent obsession with replacing all of the Gold Medal paperbacks of my youth (and then some I hadn't heard of because ebay- and in fact the interwebs--had yet to be invented) has only magnified this issue. A dire threat was issued that we would need a new bookshelf to hold all of the books but I thought that was a helpful suggestion and went out and bought and built yet another bookshelf.

Thus a Kindle, which holds quite a few books itself and is smaller than the new bookshelf.

There are many of my reading brethren who are philosophically opposed to the Kindle because they like the look and feel of paper. These are, basically, the same people who pretend they don't read tabloids or watch reality television, and I once numbered myself among them.

But it is hard to pass up the convenience and ease and relative inexpense of downloads with the Kindle, and I found that I could actually read off of it pretty easily (as a person who does not like to read anything longer than a blog post on a computer screen). I soon had a new dark mistress.

The first book I downloaded was "Pygmy" by Chuck Palahniuk followed in quick succession by two Hard Case Crime novels, "House Dick" by E. Howard Hunt and "The Murderer Vine" by Shepard Rifkin. $20 of Father's Day money gone. I was happy to find Hard Case Crime on Kindle but was disappointed two books I was looking for--"The Savage Detectives" by Roberto Bolano and Denis Johnson's "Nobody Move"--were not yet available.

The Kindle people are diabolically clever by offering up all kinds of free downloads, mostly of classics but plenty of other stuff to get you hooked, like "Assassin's Apprentice" by Robin Hobb and "His Majesty's Dragon" by Naomi Novik, both of which I had already read and admired and both the beginning of addictive series. Joseph Finder's "Paranoia" is up there free, as is "Elric: The Stealer of Souls" by Michael Moorcock. I downloaded a couple of freebies that I probably wouldn't buy but might try for nothing, which I am sure was the plan, like "Manifold Time" by Stephen Baxter and "Blood Engines" by T.A. Pratt and "Weapons of Choice" by John Birmingham. Then, while nosing around, I broke down and spent a few thin dollars on "To Kiss or Kill" by Day Keene and "Leaves of Grass" by some dude.

Suffice to say I am ready for my beach vacation in a few weeks. Give me a shout at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

The Imaginary Blonde

Longtime readers know about my fascination with the detritus of a misspent youth; 70s comics, Gold Medal paperbacks, late-night creature features, musical one-hit wonders, and the like. Those who, like me, peruse the dustbins of history for forgotten lore know that it is not so much the acquisition as the hunt.

For instance, recently I went to a party at a friend's and came across a box of comics his mother had chucked out of the attic and told him to get rid of. He hadn't gotten around to throwing it away yet and I peeked in out of curiosity and found a whole slew of 60s-era Marvel Comics with single- and double-digit numbering and titles like Uncanny X-Men and Daredevil and The Amazing Spider-Man. Yes, the little voice in my head told me to casually offer him $20 to take the box off his hands but I couldn't do it.

Even more recently I was visiting a little antique store my wife had dragged me into and I happened across a stack of old magazines. The old man running the shop told me a 99-year-old man had recently passed away and the proprietor had been given the opportunity to sort through his junk and see if anything was worth saving.

My eyes landed on Manhunt Detective Story Monthly #1, January 1953, with stories by Mickey Spillane, William Irish, Kenneth Millar, Richard S. Prather, and Evan Hunter, among others. If you do not recognize these names, please leave this blog immediately and go to Google, then come back when you are educated, grasshopper. Right behind this one was issues 2, 4, and 9, featuring Richard Deming and David Goodis and Ross Macdonald (as I said, Google).

All for a thin dollar each. The proprietor must have seen my bad pokerface because he hesitated to sell them at the eleventh hour, but without making a quick trip to ebay couldn't figure out how not to sell these to me.

Later I checked out ebay myself, and suffice to say could make back my $4 rather easily. But these are made for reading myself, looking at the covers and thinking about that quickening of the pulse when I saw them on the dusty shelf.

I'll be out nosing around, but can be found at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

The Down Side of Up

Cinema Minima, a film site I have a lot of respect for in the independent/grassroots film world, recently remarked on a slow news day "Not 'Hollywood Independent'--writer John Oak Dalton is the real thing." Let this humbling statement not proceed the death knell of American Cinema.

Despite this great affirmation, like the stoic (which unkind reviewers might refer to as wooden) star of "Drag Me To Hell," I have started to wonder if I am under some sort of gypsy curse.

Both of my cars died within four weeks of each other, leaving my wife and I stranded in different cities. I cut through the ball of my thumb again while slicing a bagel. The garden hose on the outside wall leaked into the house and I came home and found the plumbers had to cut a big hole in our kitchen wall. We hiked around, as is our tradition, on Father's Day and saw a big timber rattlesnake sunning itself on the trail. Though we did not see it was a timber rattlesnake until we looked on the interwebs, which we did because when my wife (who believed it was a grass snake) poked it gently with a stick and said "Go away, honey," it rattled at her.

I do have to admit I watched "The Seventh Seal" again the other night and maybe that's where it all started. You watch a dude play chess with Death and you sort of have to take what comes. But with its eye-popping black-and-white cinematography, clear-eyed scripting, and a hard-assed performance by Max von Sydow, it is worth it. The down side is that you remember that most everything made today is disgraceful crap in comparison.

Even though I love this movie, I still love "The Bicycle Thief" more and wish I could make a movie like "Alphaville." If you have not seen these three greats, shut off the internet, set aside your Will Ferrell movie marathon, and get to work. Then come back when you get it done.

Until later I am at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

Taking a Hike

For three years running we have gone hiking on Father's Day. This year, Roush Lake State Recreation Area and Salamonie Reservoir, both near Huntington, Indiana. Wife, puppy, and new Kindle in tow.

Revenge of the Great Cornholio

Field-testing, for the first time, the Colts cornhole boards I made for my father-in-law in the sub-zero weeks before Christmas. The event was the shared birthday party my in-laws held for my kids, now aged 21 and 25. Time marches on.

Good Morning, Campers

Summer Straycationing at O'Bannon Woods State Park in southern Indiana this past weekend.

Albino Raccoon Captured

If you don't think I could have gotten any cooler after this photo was taken, on Monday I was fitted for a mouth guard to wear at night so I don't grind my teeth.

One Less Artery to Worry About

I asked my wife to take a picture so I would always remember this steak, a good two to three inches thick and as red as Mao's little book. Great camping memories.

Be Careful Not To Touch The Wall, There's A Brand New Coat of Paint

The hipster pinnacle for a midnight movie-loving kid like myself growing up was Fangoria Magazine, and I'll never forget when I first saw my name in its pages. And it never gets old.  You can check out the trailer here.

Careful readers see that I got some "Memoir 44" in over Memorial Day and actually won against my brother, a rare victory but tainted somewhat by the fact that I knocked the Allies off the beach on D-Day.  Somewhere, a parallel universe is in peril.  But I also got in "A Touch of Evil," also a very good but very different horror-themed board game.  Old fans of this blog, check it out.

Oh, and check this out too.

And check out this guy, who, like me, apparently enjoys a Gold Medal paperback from time to time (and I am trawling away on ebay trying to replenish my stock, an old fave company that you used to be able to throw away by the handful and now has disappeared off of used book shelves in favor of big thick Tom Clancys and John Grishams).  (Best not follow that link at the office).

Feeling linky today; more later at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

More Memorial Day

My brother and I playing the entirely excellent and fun World War II board game "Memoir 44" on, appropriately enough, Memorial Day.

Storming the Beach

Game's eye view of a D-Day scenario, which I would normally be glad to win but as I was playing the Nazis on Memorial Day I hoped a parallel universe didn't fall somewhere.

Memorial Day Festivities

Grilling out for my mom's birthday.

Memorial Day #2

Nothing says a Hoosier holiday weekend like some cornhole.

The Center Ring

Bonnie the Circus Dog, on Memorial Day.

It Was Just Like A Great Dark Wind

Ever since I was a kid I thought it would be cool to have my own personal Code of Honor that nobody else understands.

I think it began when I read Raymond Chandler's "The Simple Art of Murder" and these immortal words: Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid.

This code has taken many forms over the years and continues to evolve, with the latest addition having come since my daughter went to college. Now every time I hear the song "Sara Smile" by Hall and Oates I have made an unbreakable vow to call my daughter; even if it is at 7:15 a.m. while I am driving to work. This song has been one of her favorites from when she was a little girl and it always reminds me of her.

But I haven't heard it enough, even though I listen to a lot of oldies stations, so I have expanded this vow to include every other Hall and Oates song except for "Maneater" which I would rather listen to radio static instead. But that didn't quite cut it so I have expanded to include the song "Baby Come Back" which is actually by Player but sounds like Hall and Oates. Then "Sara" by Fleetwood Mac and "Sara" by Starship. Then every other song by Fleetwood Mac and Starship except for "We Built This City" which I would rather drive a pencil into my ear than listen to.

The detective must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor. He talks as the man of his age talks, that is, with rude wit, a lively sense of the grotesque, a disgust for sham, and a contempt for pettiness.

Until the next song, I am at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

I Was Feeling Kinda Seasick

Sadly my pal, filmmaker Peter O'Keefe, just earned another lap in the Lake of Fire.

In other entertainment news, I am watching "Parks and Recreation" closely. Not because I hope that they realize they can improve the show dramatically by allowing Rashida Jones to wear a pantsuit like her mother, Peggy Lipton, was so famous for in "The Mod Squad." It is more to be on alert for unfavorable portrayals of Hoosiers.

Loyal readers may recall my campaign against "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip," who made fun of my alma mater's basketball team with an ill-disguised jab at "Muncie State," thus inspiring my ire and ridicule. Few things have drawn as much attention to this blog from other sites (except for when I wrote about how my wife saw Maura Tierney and Goran Visnjic in Chicago taping "ER," drawing links from many Croatian "ER" fans), and my jibes at the shaky plotting and leaps in logic were surprisingly repeated on some TV fan sites.

All I can say in retrospect is that I am still blogging and "Studio 60" is off the air. Whether Aaron Sorkin is still weeping bitter tears at night over my witty and incisive posts, I have never learned.

So far "Parks and Recreation" is doing okay. They have accurately portrayed Hoosiers' love for Bobby Knight and Larry Bird, though they have overlooked other Gods in our Pantheon, among them Reggie Miller, Steve Alford, Bobby Plump, and the newly-elevated Peyton Manning.

But one thing.

We do NOT wear brown suits! At least, I haven't seen any since I visited my dad's Kiwanis meetings in the early 80s. Our great Flyover Country does get regular delivery of Old Navy clothes!

I will continue vigilantly monitoring potential defamation of Hoosiers; until then, I am at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

You Are The Magnet

Getting into the groove on my new job and spent a pleasant weekend with my wife for her birthday.  We went to Vera Maes, one of our favorite spots, and afterwards a showing at Ball State University of "The Full Monty," which was a very good student performance.  It was closing night, and though there were rumors of the full monty to be on display "for one night only" I only saw a couple of bare(ish) buttocks.  Not that I'm complaining.

I did have an excellent Savannah pork chop at Vera Mae's.  I have known a lot of fine pork chops in my time and I would say this was in the top five.

I have a feeling I am going to have a baseball summer.  I have been reading the very good book "Moneyball" by Michael Lewis about how the Oakland As have built winners with no money and it got me interested in baseball a bit more this year.  About five or six years ago the stars were in alignment and in one summer I ended up at the Cincy Reds, St. Louis Cardinals, Fort Wayne Wizards, and Indianapolis Indians.  I ended up winning some Indy Indians tickets on a TV Auction last fall and cashed them in a few weekends ago on a very pleasant night at Victory Field after a really good meal at Weber Grill.  It was the kind of meal that men fantasize of where there are four kinds of meat served and not one green leaf in sight.

On my summer wish list is Indy Indians (one down), the new Fort Wayne Tincaps, the new Richmond Riverrats, the Dayton Dragons, the Reds (I haven't been since their new stadium), and maybe for good measure the Cubs or Sox.  And, if I can reach the far ends of the state, the South Bend Silverhawks and the Evansville Otters.  If I can make any combination of at least five I will beat my previous record.  Something a boy can dream on.

Getting very interested in keitai shosetsu.  Google this if you don't know what I'm talking about.

Until later, at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

The Curse It Is Cast

My blogging has slowed down to a trickle of late, though I have been able to keep up with Twitter at a mere 140 characters at a time (and if you aren't on Twitter with me, Oprah, President Obama, Ashton Kutcher, John Mayer, and millions of others, why aren't you?).  I've also done okay keeping up on my reading.  

Perhaps the sluggish blogging was the letdown from reaching 1,000 posts at about the same time as my fifth anniversary of this humble site (which, scarily, is something close to a post every other day for the last half-decade, for loyal readers and poor mathematicians).  

Perhaps it was also the long winter, breaking a filling and getting a root canal, breaking the root canal, hosting the Chamber of Commerce at the office, then changing jobs, getting the flu (hopefully it wasn't the damn swine flu), having my wife get the flu (ditto), presenting at a conference, the end of a semester teaching video production, and a few other events I am forgetting as things are a bit blurry around the edges at present.

What else could have kept me from blogging about Watchmen, a cinema event I have waited for for several decades? 

Astoundingly, I find myself, while googling away, in the humble minority amongst fanboys in my unstinting praise for this film.  Why comic book fans have not marched upon Hollywood and pledged unyielding fealty to Zack Snyder I have no idea.

For a graphic novel long thought to be unfilmable, so much was there, including dialogue and even shots framed right from the comics.  Great casting and a reverent rendition.  The use of music and the idea to keep it in its 80s time frame were sure-handed.  The DVD release of extras, done practically concurrently, was innovative.   The opening gave me chills.  I think they actually improved the ending.  I honestly don't know, unless it was made into an HBO miniseries of something, how it could have been done any better, or by anybody else, or at any other time in the last twenty years or so.

My dream of Watchmen was realized.  My dream for the other milestone graphic novel of that era, The Dark Knight, may never come to pass, as too much time has marched by, and with it my fantasy of Clint Eastwood or Michael Douglas playing Batman and Arnold himself playing Superman, and wouldn't that have been a cool movie?

But one little thing about Watchmen scratched at the back of my mind.

At the end of the book (twenty year old SPOILER), asked to tarnish his curious code of honor to prevent the world spinning into Armageddon, the vigilante Rorschach utters the immortal line:

"Joking, of course."

A tagline for every disenfranchised comic book-reading, Star Trek-watching, D&D-playing dude of that era, and one my friends and I would utter when our own curious codes would be challenged or questioned.

"Joking, of course."

A line for the ages, missing from the definitive unfilmable film--which is why I must only give Watchmen a nine and a half.

Who's ready to go see Star Trek?

Give me a shout at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

Sweet Peter Rottentail

Every year my pal Tim Shrum, de facto president of the Polonia Brothers Fan Club, bakes a cake based on a classic Polonia Brothers movie. Whether he has other issues or not, I'm not sure. Once again this year Tim picked one of my own scripted projects (after doing "Among Us" before). Strange enough to have a script turned into a movie, but then turned into a cake really takes--well, you understand. Thanks, Tim!

The Bright Elusive Butterfly of Love

I think I am officially the last comic-book nerd in America who hasn't seen Watchmen, a condition I hope to correct tomorrow when my son and I take a third stab at going.

In the meantime, I am off to the Phantoscope Film Festival today, in its third great year with perhaps the strongest lineup yet. If that is because I was not invited back to the roundtable discussion and in fact will spend most of the time either behind the projector or behind a camera taping the event is for the reader to decide.

See you at the Fest, or you can always catch me at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

The Pounding of the Drums, the Pride and Disgrace

Thanks to the folks at HorrorBlips, who dubbed me one of "the Web's most popular horror news, videos, and blogs," even though I think this is the longest I have gone without posting since I started five years ago.

So I broke out a filling and had to get a root canal and then, while enjoying a nice meal at this restaurant in Ohio, broke my root canal and then had to go get a crown put on. Some script money I just made went right into my mouth instead of up my nose like my Hollywood brethren. Went through Cincinnati in a Vicodin haze but enjoyed a visit to Jungle Jim's. Cars breaking down, puppies vomiting up, FAFSAs and taxes, drama all around, a rain of frogs. A trip to Memphis for Spring Break drizzled down to a good piece of pie at a diner yesterday in Centerville, Indiana. Now here I am enjoying some nice fresh scones my wife baked this morning and getting back on the beam.

On my "Nerd Bucket List" for 2009 I have been doing alright amidst the chaos. I bumped into filmmaker Zack Parker, both of us getting an oil change at WalMart in Richmond Indiana, and gave him that script coverage I promised; I supposed that's what living in L.A. must be like. I am getting caught up on emails and am catching up on writing recommendations on LinkedIn like I promised. I still have more to do but am doing better than I was.

I have been foiled twice in going to see Watchmen with my son, but we are going to try again next Sunday. I loaned him the graphic novel to read and he, like legions of comic book fans before him, got blown away. But probably not as much as we did way back in the day.

It's hard to describe to somebody today what it was like when we saw it on the shelves. Back then in the 80s you might get a Hawkman and Atom team-up where they fight a gorilla with a robot brain. Then all of a suddent there's this dark, apocalyptic story like nothing we'd ever seen (of course, we had not seen 2000 A.D. yet where all of this was going on prior).

The first time I saw a Watchmen comic it was lying on a table at my old pal Eric Mayse's house, who later went to work for Todd McFarlane (curiously, the toy figure Cornboy was based on him). It was the final, death-dealing issue (which was fine, as I always like to read the endings first in books) and I could not fathom some of the last few pages in the context of what I was reading at the time. Suddenly it seemed okay to read comics again and I didn't have to pretend I was buying them for my son.

I think it's interesting how Alan Moore has become more sunny since then, especially his milestone Silver-Age musings in Supreme (which I think deserves wider mainstream recognition). Moore, like the rest of us, got milder and more philosophical over time; though he spawned a decade of darker and more violent comics, and I wonder what he thinks about that overall today.

Last week I finished judging the Phantoscope Film Festival, and think we will have a good lineup this year. If I don't see you at the Fest this Saturday, you can always catch me at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.

Remembering John Polonia: One Year Later

It's hard to believe it was one year ago today that b-movie filmmaker John Polonia passed away. This is what I wrote then:

John was an incredibly funny person who enjoyed home and family life and could talk movies with a great fervor. He turned this love of movies into a memorable filmmaking career.
John was a good friend to me and a lot of other filmmakers. He was a great lover of cinema and had a vast collection of movies stored on the shelves of his home and in his brain. He had a dream to make movies and lived that dream every single day since his teenage years. I spoke with him a few weeks ago about a new project I would rewrite over one of his scripts and he was as excited about these upcoming prospects as he was about every project.
I think we are too close to the Polonia Brothers' legacy for it to be properly measured. They first got distribution as teenagers and are noted for having one of the first shot on SVHS features to be accepted at Blockbuster. They produced and directed more than 30 features in 20-some years that were distributed direct to video. They were incredibly prolific and successful together and embraced a large fan base while being courteous to foes. Their role in the rise of VHS rentals, the mom and pop stores, the SOV era, and then the direct-to-video DVD boom, will have to be noted much farther down the timeline to see what they have really meant as people and professionals.
I can say in total honesty I have never met anyone like John. When I first saw "Blood Red Planet" I knew the Brothers were special as very unique filmmakers and I later came to learn they were incredible individuals as well.

You can read my original posts, with photos, blog comments, and links to other tributes, here, here, here, here, and here.

I was thinking about the last time I saw John Polonia. My family was returning from a trip to the east coast and stopped in Wellsboro, Pennsylvania on the way back to spend the night and visit with the Polonia Brothers. John and Mark and I sat on John's porch late at night and talked about movies.

Even though John knew about the Polonia Brothers Fan Club and various reviews and all the people they knew and helped in the industry he always took an ironic tone with their fame/infamy. But I think he would have been pleasantly surprised at all of the website memorials and tribute videos on YouTube and so on that came out in the wake of his death.

At the viewing, I could just imagine John looking at all of the former cast and crew people there and saying, "Let's make a movie." It was the main sentiment he shared at a surprise birthday party that was thrown for the Brothers a few years before. I have no doubt that in that long weekend he could have cooked up a good one.

John was, ultimately, a family man who lived in a small town, down the street from his twin brother, who loved making movies. It was a purity of purpose and surety of self that I aspire to.

I Keep Holdin' On Enough To Say

I have been slow on updating this humble blog lately, what with a friendly little root canal and a cozy sore throat keeping me away from the keyboard as of late. But I have been doing quite a bit of reading in my attempt to once again read 50 books this year.

If I seem suddenly cooler it is because I am updating from my new (to me) Mac G4. Now, to the mailbag:

New reader Adrienne writes that she is not an Oscars fan, but "maybe we'll start when you're up for an award...It's genuine, you are our best hope." Sadly, Adrienne basically wrote that she has to throw her television in the dumpster.

Loyal reader Jim writes "Just added Among Us, Peter Rottentail, and your other films to our Netflix disc and Watch Instantly queues." As Jim is Adrienne's husband, I fear his television is going to end up in the dumpster one way or the other.

Seriously, though, I hope they enjoy them, and I appreciate Netflix for putting them up there; and for delivering me a steady stream of DVDs at home, a welcome treat when I live half an hour from the nearest Blockbuster and ten minutes from the nearest video store of any kind, which is a Redbox at a MacDonald's.

New projects always bubbling; until later I am at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.