because you shouldn't have to be a celebrity to fill out the New York survey

After reading Brian Williams' stomach-turning responses to New York's survey, I decided to give it a try. If you didn't know, real people are almost always more fascinating than celebrities. If you're so inclined, turn in yours in the comments section.

Who: Jon
Job: Communication Analyst
Age: 23 (24 on Monday ... eeep!)
Neighborhood: East Village
Who's your favorite New Yorker, living or dead, real or fictional?: I bet a lot of people pick Daisy Buchanan. Real, living is Joan Didion. Real, dead is Dorothy Parker. Fictional? Annie Hall.
What's the best meal you've eaten in New York?: When I was in high school we would go to Cafe Artistes the day after Thanksgiving every year with visiting friends. All of those meals, combined.
In one sentence, what do you actually do all day in your job?: I develop and implement communication strategies for companies.
Where do you get your coffee?: The fresh roast place on 8th St. and 2nd Ave., Cafe Pick Me Up, that guy in the cart outside my office who has memorized my morning order. I don't even have to say "the usual."
What's the last thing you saw on Broadway?: The Year of Magical Thinking.
Do you give money to panhandlers?: If I have change in my pocket.
What's your drink?: Jack and (Diet) Coke.
How often do you prepare your own meals: I rarely don't.
What's hanging above your sofa?: In my bedroom I have a large silk screen of a black vinyl record on an orange canvas.
How much is too much to spend on a haircut?: I spend too much. This is a touchy subject. Let's move on.
When's bedtime?: Somewhere north of midnight.
Brunch. Pro or con?: It's my favorite meal to have out.
What's your thread count?: Ask me in 10 years.
What do you hate most about living in New York?: Rent.
What's your brand of jeans: St. Augustine, from a boutique in Echo Park in LA.
When's the last time you drove a car?: September. (I'm new).
Who should be the next president?: Hillary.
Times, Post or Daily News?: Times (of course).
Yankees or Mets?: If you had a ticket, I would go to either game, as beer would be involved regardless.
What makes someone a New Yorker?: Gumption, wit, sass, neurosis and the belief that living anywhere else would be a waste of time.

insert norma rae joke here

The media frenzy surrounding the Writer's Guild strike is pretty fascinating. Thank goodness Tina Fey and Eva Longoria walked the line, otherwise, mainstream America would have trouble putting a face on the scribes' plight.
I wholly support the strike. When I lived in LA, I had a variety of jobs, all of which involved screenwriters. I interned for a producer at Paramount who gets along with and nurtures writers famously. I ended up as the assistant to a lit manager, on the phone with writers everyday. Most of the writers I knew were sharp, talented and friendly. All were passionate.
Given my experience, I consider myself fairly familiar with the writer's place on the Hollywood food chain. Considering the industry's mammoth cash flow, writers are underpaid and under-appreciated. Talent salaries invite a somber comparison. Compound this with the harried neurosis of a creative mind, and you've got a potentially prickly set who are (mostly) too smart for the town they call home.
This strike isn't about general salary; it's about new media. Sure, DVD residuals are on the table again, and that's good. Writers only see a slim portion of those proceeds, and considering the cash cow that is the home video market, they deserve a bigger cut. Digital content and the internet are the real issues here. Writers want to be protected for the online content they create. Pretty simple. If someone creates a character online who becomes a youtube phenom, they want to be protected and see residuals if a sitcom or movie deal ever happens. They just want the same protection online that they have in other mediums.
So why are the studios so resistant? Because these demands force them to examine their currently outdated business model. Hollywood has been mystified and confused with the digital realm for a while now. Without the tangibility of a DVD, a ticket stub or a CD, they're at a loss for how to make money. They're both eager to make every possible penny but also afraid to change the way things are and risk tipping the ever-tenuous balance that holds the town together. Fear and greed? Yep, that's a pretty volatile cocktail.

smug alert

I sometimes wonder if pop culture has been too tough on news anchormen. James L. Brooks has staked a career on poking fun at these dignified, seemingly informed pretty boys. There's dimwitted Ted Baxter on The Mary Tyler Moore Show; the vacuous, upwardly mobile twit played by William Hurt in Broadcast News; and, not least of all, silver-haired cartoon character Kent Brockman on The Simpsons. Other instances in other people's films abound. Christopher Plummer's portrayal of an image-obsessed Mike Wallace in Michael Mann's The Insider had the real Wallace fuming. And we can't forget Bill Murray's seething weather man in Groundhog Day. He's so unpleasant that only an otherworldly plot device can inspire change.
But, after reading an interview with NBC's nightly talking head Brian Williams in New York last week, I am beginning to think that these filmmakers may have the right idea. If there was a meter for smugness, this nonsense would be off the charts. Let's do a rundown:

- He's against brunch. "Brunch is an unnatural event, invented by the restaurant industry. Life is about hard choices. Before noon on weekends, it's called breakfast. After that, it's lunch. Pick one." These are harsh words that totally clash with my personal beliefs. Williams sounds like the kind of guy who denies himself life's pleasures. He probably hasn't had dessert in a decade. The joyous texture of powdered sugar is probably a mystery to him.

- He refuses to disclose his political affiliations, but nevertheless makes a crack about the cost of John Edwards' haircut. Ugh, can't we let this innocuous gossip item go already?

- He's a pedestrian-knocking New York driver. When asked what he hates most about living in New York, he cites "the relatively new 'pedestrian empowerment' of crossing the street after the light has changed and glaring at oncoming drivers as if to say, 'Go ahead and hit me.'" First off, it's silly to be driving in New York. I don't care how Upper East Side (Williams' neighborhood) a person is. This is a pedestrian friendly city, Mr. Williams, and if you continue to feel such disdain, may I suggest a move to LA? But, beware, that town brunches like no other.

the last movie i saw

This was certainly a movie weekend. Today, hungover and dealing with a case of "I did what last night?" I decided to finally see Into the Wild, the much-lauded new film from director (and kick-ass actor) Sean Penn.
It's the true story of a college grad (Emile Hirsch) who ditches the trappings of his bourgeois family life, snips his credit cards, donates his savings to charity and hits the open road. He heads West, of course, in search of the restorative power of the natural landscape.
It's a stunning film, deeply moving, but, thankfully, never cloying or sentimental. It plays almost like a video diary, a collection of vivid images and moments often set against a stirring score or original Eddie Vedder song (I've never really been into him, but here he provides the perfect sound for the action).
The film, like so many right now, toys with chronology. Unlike, say Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, it's an effective device here. Because Hirsch's fleeting encounters with random strangers comprise so much of the movie, a non-linear structure prevents the film from becoming episodic. The performances are uniformly excellent. Hirsch ably carries the whole thing, with dynamic supporting work from Catherine Keener as an aging hippie and surrogate mother, Marcia Gay Harden as Hirsch's real-life, nightmarish mom, and especially Hal Holbrook as a lonely do-gooder who meets Hirsch late in his journey. Holbrook's a suave old-timer, and I wouldn't be surprised to see him walk off with an award or two for this one. His performance, like the film, is tender and moving.

short cuts

Lately, I haven't been very good about getting to the movies. When I was in high school, I wrote a weekly movie review column with my dad for the local paper. As a result, I got into the habit of seeing at least one movie a week. I did the Arts section for my college newspaper, and I kept a similar schedule. But now, as a grown-up (eek!), it's harder. Time (and money) are at a premium. But, since moving to New York, I've made more of an effort. I really love film, and it feels odd to not stay current. Similarly, it feels odd not writing about film on a weekly, if not daily, basis. So, I am going to try to keep track of my viewing habits on this blog.
I saw Elizabeth: The Golden Age a few weeks ago, it's opening weekend, I believe. What a mess. It's all a blur of feathers, scowls, raised eyebrows, ripped bodices and red wigs. I loved the first Elizabeth film, and found it to be an intriguing contemporary interpretation of the normally stale costume drama. It was visually brazen and gave us Cate Blanchett, who is so clearly the new Meryl Streep. In the sequel, which finds Elizabeth settling into the "Bette Davis Period" of her reign, even Blanchett seems ill-at-ease with the proceedings. Sure, she gets a grand speech about having a hurricane within her. Yeah, she gets to wear boy armor and ride around on a horse. Clive Owen's around, but you never really know why. To call it disjointed would be too kind. At the least the costumes are ravishing (rivaling the primo duds from Marie Antoinette, but overall, a less visually coherent or aesthetically impressive film). And Samantha Morton has too small a part as the bilious Mary Queen of Scots. It's an amusingly sinister performance, one that seems meant for a different (and better) movie.
I just got back from seeing Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, an uber-buzzworthy indie from veteran director Sidney Lumet. After a knockout career in the 70s (he did Network), Lumet faded into schlock territory in the 80s and 90s. He was even responsible for the Sharon Stone clunker Gloria. Oh how the mighty fall. Many people have labeled this film, about the perfect crime gone tragically awry, a comeback picture. And while it does offer a visual coherence and attention to character detail that hearken back to 70s cinema, it's also a fairly cliched, melodramatic and contrived caper film. The film's biggest problem is the jumbled chronology of the narrative ... in the spirit of Babel I suppose. Sometimes this device works (it's great in Pulp Fiction) but here it just feels like an attempt to hide the holes in the plot. Movies about sibling strife, financial desperation, anguish and guilt depend on tension to hold everything together. Long silences, swelling tears, etc. When you hop around, you lose this crucial glue and end up with a few nice scenes and that's about it. Ethan Hawke and Philip Seymour Hoffman have great fun playing misfit brothers who decide to knock over their parents' jewelry store. Hoffman's is a more one-dimensional, almost cartoonish portrayal. I think it's the way the character's written. This guy can do anything, really, and is nothing if not fun to watch. Hawke struck me as the real revelation. Sometimes he's too twitchy and self-conscious on screen, but here he plays naive and troubled with conviction. I don't get those trumpeting this one as an Oscar contender. Hawke, yes, and even Hoffman, too. But it should stop there.