Friday, January 11, 2008

The Week That Was (1/6 - 1/11)

The Proletariat Houston: "On Feb. 4, Houston's hippest bar will close it's doors for good, a casualty of the new Richmond light rail project. . . . . Those of us with a long history with the prole will not only mourn its passing, but remember it and its owner, and the opportunities they have offered us for so long, with reverence and respect. God willing, may it rise like a phoenix from the ashes, and bless the Houston scene again one day," Horus Kemwer, "The Proletariat, RIP," (1/6/08). Mr. Kemwer laments the imminent passing of Houston's bar for the hip, The Proletariat, located at 903 Richmond in that metropolis. I am no stranger to such posts. Above is an image of a flier promoting a gig at the venue featuring The Donkeys, Southerly, and Casiotone for the Painfully Alone (which has, obviously, one of the greatest band names in recent memory). The venues we haunt come and go, and years from now, some future chronological snob will offer forth a nostalgic post featuring memories and remembrances from the then long dead Proletariat. But at that distance time in the future, the cool and the hip will have some as of yet unknown place to congregate which, when it passes, will be equally eulogized and missed. Such is the cycle of venue nostalgia.

Remembering Sean Young as Racheal the Replicant: "I dig Blade Runner. Depending on my mood, its easily one of my favorite movies. Sure, it's clunky in parts, and there are multiple cuts with different meanings, but this isn't a post about the arcane magic of Blade Runner. This is a post about a 13 year-old League raising an eyebrow in honor of Sean Young as a robotic noir love interest," The League, "Dames in the Media The League Once Dug: Sean Young as Rachael in Blade Runner," (1/6/08). There is not much to add to the League's nostalgic and fun post about the beautiful and crazy actress Sean Young and her role as the replicant of choice in 1982's Blade Runner. In June of 1982, when the noirish Ridley Scott science fiction picture was released, Young was, well, young. She was a 22 year old ingenue likely under the impression that her role as Racheal would lead her to some type of recognition, or perhaps, stardom of some kind. She would have been wrong.

After appearing in 1987's suspense thriller No Way Out, things went downhill. Says the Wikipedia of her exploits:

Young would start to have some problems while working on filming with James Woods in a film titled The Boost. Which would end up with James Woods filing a lawsuit against Young for claims of harassment. This would become a starting point for trouble in her career as Young would again experience a set back by getting fired from a role in 1990s Dick Tracy film.

She was set to cast as Vicki Vale in Tim Burton's Batman but she received an injury during horse riding in which she was replaced by Kim Basinger. She would attempt to pursue a role in the sequel Batman Returns as Catwoman but was unsuccessful. In that attempt she had made a home-made costume and attempted to confront director Tim Burton and actor Michael Keaton during production.

(Footnotes omitted).

Truly, Young implicates the Hot/Crazy scale as illustrated above by Barney on the sitcom, "How I Met Your Mother," in this episode from October of last year. By 1994, she would play a foil to Jim Carrey in the lowbrow comedy film, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, and at the film's end, her character was revealed to be a pre-op transsexual, a far cry from Racheal the replicant twelve years earlier. What would have become of her had she kept it together?

Willie Nelson Covers Dave Matthews? On iTunes this past week, county maverick Willie Nelson released a new tune, "Gravedigger," which is a cover of the 2003 single by Dave Matthews (in his role as solo artist, mind you, not leader of the Dave Mathews Band). Matthews' version appeared on his 2003 album, Some Devil, while a scaled down acoustic version appears on both the album and its CD single. The song is a depressing departure from Matthews' upbeat folk; the lyrics are comprised of , essentially, a series of epitaphs. Who could ask for more?

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