These are trinkets of greatest use to those whose salaries are affected by them… and of greatest detriment to audiences who want better films but are willing, unfortunately, to settle for whatever crap the studios will churn out from week to week. Why? Because these insincere definitions of “success” only reinforce appeals to the lowest common denominator. Competitive and financial models of success (as opposed to intrinsic artistic accomplishment) inherently favor mediocrity … the crap always floats to the top because it offends the least amount of people, threatens the fewest egos, reinforces the opinions of those who already agree with it, and, most importantly, doesn’t take risks.

When has Hollywood EVER been about genuinely promoting art in more than just the commercial sense of “progress”?

Hollywood won’t even dare laugh at itself, as evidenced by the morose reactions to Stewart’s riotously hilarious sendups (Clooney excluded… he actually seems to be the one guy in Hollywood with a sense of humor… if only they understood THAT is why audiences genuinely like him)… which shows just how little they think about anything beyond how their current project is going to influence their next paycheck. When you see stars with contract riders for umpteen bottles of Evian, or actors who demand multimillion dollar salaries (Reese Witherspoon with her $29 mil has inadvertently priced herself out of doing anything better than a shlockbuster) … or Will Smith with his $1 million trailer… What makes you genuinely believe them when they proffer their platitudes in acceptance speeches about “craft”… What makes you believe they are more interested in artistry than they are interested in themselves?

Does one not see the irony beset around the institution? Have we somehow deluded ourselves into believing this annual self-masturbatory ritual of populist cinema would actually favor subtlety over hamfisted melodrama?

Look no further than their hubris and hypocrisy… Throughout the evening, repeatedly chanting the mantra of “the theatrical experience…” Though I agree that theatrical exhibition superior to DVD in every aspect of picture and sound, the endless appeals to moviegoers during the 78th Annual Academy Awards struck me as utterly hilarious.

The industry restructured DVD releases due partly to their paranoia about piracy, but also due to the accounting shell-game in which the studios pay the artisans last, and yet count projected revenues from yet-to-be DVD sales up front… They can’t wait for those revenue streams more than two quarters, now, lest the SEC starts investigating them for accounting fraud in the wake of Sarbanes-Oxley. Couple that with consistently mediocre quality films week after week in which people increasingly feel screwed out of their nine dollars a head… (nearly $40 for a family of four, not counting the $97 in concessions…)

The studios have no one to blame but themselves for provoking piracy and/or driving consumers to DVD by clinging to what they believe are “safe bets”… cliché-ridden filth and a dead distro monopoly. Not only that, but by reducing the DVD release gap to roughly four months (again out of paranoia and greed), who the hell sees the benefit in shucking out nine dollars a head to go see a piece of junk at the theater when they’ll see it on DVD soon enough in the comfort of their own home without babies screaming and assholes on cell phones?

Also, the massive hype around home video is entirely the industry’s invention… They spend the gobs of money promoting it. Their publicists relentlessly spam the living hell out of every retail outlet, every critic, every movie-related publication or major web site.

Why? They design movies so shitty that they know they can’t bank on lasting power in the theater… Making better films is harder than throwing money at PR campaigns, so they now bank on home video to fill the gap when a movie fizzles out its of theatrical exhibition cycle. They plan their distribution and marketing strategies around the inevitable failure of these acrid films to woo audiences… and then they turn around and blame the audiences for preferring to wait for the planned multi-tiered, extra-special-super-duper-milk-it-one-more-time DVD releases.

Did you get that? The motion picture industry blames audiences for falling in lockstep with their idiotic marketing strategies — unimaginative responses to underwhelmed reactions to unimaginative movies. They blame us, threatening to sue every last 12 year old out there — constantly demanding the government require more intrusive measures by Internet Service Providers to monitor what you are doing. They blame US… the moviegoers.

… are you still wondering how the hell it is that a movie like “Crash” wins Best Picture? A movie which makes Hollywood feel good about itself for having churned out of the meat-grinder yet another paint-by-numbers “message” movie which insults its audience by expecting so little of our critical thinking skills you’d have had to fall down the stairs and hit your head NOT to be a winner in the “spot the racist” storyline. It’s a film that reinforces Hollywood’s condescending, abject hatred for you, the moviegoer… of course “Crash” won.

I first read Annie Proulx’s short story, “Brokeback Mountain,” more than a year ago. Her prose was stark, simple and raw like its two protagonists, and infused with a loneliness and tragedy so profound, that it haunted me for days afterwards. I was left like an open wound; seeping with not only sadness, but anger against a world that would deny two souls the right to love each other. The constraints of an ignorant and unforgiving society worked as both an external and internal force upon the two lovers. Ennis and Jack’s own ingrained beliefs and expectations about the lives they think they’re supposed to lead play a major hand in the choices that they make.

Jack Twist is a man who looks to the horizon, and hopes for something better than what he was dealt. His father raised him with near-ambivalent neglect, yet resented him for his wanderlust. In contrast, the influence of Ennis Del Mar’s tough, homophobic father is what forged him as a human being. Killed in an accident when Ennis was a child, the ghost of the father clings to the son throughout an adulthood that was brought on far too early.

Ang Lee’s film not only managed to capture these crucial character attributes, but also explored them with a depth that I wasn’t anticipating. Built on the solid foundation of an efficient and potent screenplay by Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana, both Jack (Jake Gyllenhaal) and Ennis (Heath Ledger) evolve as 20 years of their lives pass before us. The first half hour of the film is devoted to the quiet reverence of Brokeback Mountain, a place that represents the natural beauty of the Old West and the private Eden that the two young boys share together, sheltered from the rest of the world. It is here where they form a bond of friendship based on mutual trust and respect, which on a cold night explodes into a lust that neither of them can fully comprehend. The next day, they swear to each other that they’re “not queer,” almost in an unspoken pact of fidelity, a promise that the connection they share will never be duplicated with another man. When they next retreat into the tent, it is with such bare need and tenderness, that only the most cynical of viewers will be left unaffected. Inevitably, their time in this wild paradise must end, and both soon feel the crushing weight of their looming separation. While Jack remains hopeful that they will meet again on the mountain the next summer, Ennis is consumed by such confusion and anger at his feelings for Jack, that he lashes out at him for being the cause of his internal agony.

After parting, their lives take the road of convention. Ennis marries his sweetheart, Alma Beers (Michelle Williams), and begins an existence composed of thankless jobs and screaming babies. Jack moves to Texas and enters the arena of rodeo competition, but finds a way out of the low-paying and injury-laden profession by marrying the brassy daughter (Anne Hathaway) of a local farm-equipment mogul. It isn’t until four years after their departure from Brokeback that the two men finally reunite, after Jack takes the initiative of contact via postcard.

Alma’s shock is devastating when she accidentally sees her husband kiss Jack with a hunger to fill the years of their separation. She has no frame of reference with which to process what she has witnessed, and chooses to shut down rather than deal with its implications. Jack is brave enough to realize how deeply he loves Ennis, and implores his lover to leave his family so that they can start “a little cow and calf operation” together. Ennis flatly refuses. Perhaps from a stoic sense of obligation to his wife and daughters, or more likely, a deep fear of admitting his homosexuality, he only agrees to meet Jack sporadically, and in the isolation of the wilderness. A brutal memory of a hate-crime witnessed during his youth gives him rationalization enough to resist Jack’s hopes of a life together.

From this point, the film moves us through the subsequent years of their relationship, giving us glimpses into the routine and unsatisfying lives they have settled for. Jack competes with business paperwork for his hardening wife’s attention. Alma and Ennis’ marriage slowly and irrevocably deteriorates under the unspoken knowledge of his betrayal. The only comfort the two men can find is in each other’s company, their bond having grown so close despite their distance from each other, that when together, even silences carry a gentle and familiar ease. Their deep, unspoken love is evident, and we hope, despite all the forces at work against them, that they will ultimately find happiness with each other.

If there is a single, binding motif of “Brokeback Mountain,” it is restraint. Ang Lee’s direction embodies this with masterful subtlety, allowing the contrast of immaculate vistas and intimate loneliness to merge into a vision that provokes in unexpected ways. A moment in the film — which perfectly represents this careful balance — is when Ennis crumples to his knees in a wave of tears and nausea upon leaving the mountain. He can’t comprehend why he feels such crippling emotion, and responds in the only way a man of his upbringing can – with fear and anger. He is framed tightly between two walls, yet the expanse of sky behind him seems vast. Freedom is within Ennis’ grasp, but he can’t escape his self-imposed constraints.

It is in moments like this that Heath Ledger illuminates the screen with a performance that could justifiably be ranked among the best of the decade. The most gifted actors can emote without the aid of dialogue, instead inhabiting a character in both mind and body. Ledger has the ability to convey Ennis Del Mar’s self-loathing with a subtle squint of the eyes, or a posture that goes from ramrod-straight to hunched and cowed as the years begin to weigh upon him. Even the words that fight their way out of his mouth seem as weary as he is.

In turn, the character of Jack Twist is perhaps harder to imbue with this level of complexity, but Jake Gyllenhaal does a brilliant job with the role. He is carefree and warm with his affections, giving Ennis tenderness that he needs, but feels guilty about receiving from any other source. We love Jack for his guilelessness, and can forgive him his trespasses as we see him transition from youthful naivety to bitter resentment at Ennis’ stubborn refusal of happiness.

The women of this film play smaller, but still significant, parts. It is through them that the tragedy of Ennis and Jack’s romance is put into sharp focus. They are collateral damage, and would have been spared their suffering if circumstances had permitted the men to ignore societal expectations of marriage and offspring. Michelle Williams’ is excellent in the scenes she’s in, particularly when expressing both sorrow and resignation. Anne Hathaway’s Lureen doesn’t have to struggle to keep her family afloat financially, but instead tries to hide a deep bitterness at her loveless marriage under a layer of thick makeup, bleach-tortured hair, and gaudy jewelry. In one of the film’s most quietly powerful scenes, Lureen emits two choked and barely audible screams when she finally realizes who the love of her husband’s life really was. The revelation that Jack’s heart was never hers is almost enough to crack the façade that she has methodically taken refuge behind.

Ang Lee utilizes powerful symbolism, but never enters territory where it would be considered heavy-handed or overwrought. Like the rest of the film, this aspect is governed by subtlety and control. Whether it be the splayed corpse of a “sacrificial” lamb discovered by a guilty Ennis the morning after his first sexual encounter with Jack, the simple reversal of two shirts on a wire hanger, or the lonely expanse of a wheat field visible next to Brokeback Mountain’s representation of pure natural beauty and idealism, the viewer is never left wanting for images rich with emotional resonance.

The cinematic experience we are given is one of rare gravitas. Unlike the regular Hollywood “tear-jerker” fare that gives us an easy cry that will be forgotten in an hour’s time, the characters, events and implications of “Brokeback Mountain” haunt us for days after exiting the theater. It is a film about fear paralyzes us into an inevitable and devastating regret. But unlike the film’s two heroes, who never return to the sacred ground of their beloved mountain after that first summer of youthful exuberance, viewers who have seen and fallen in love with Ang Lee’s film have been returning for repeat viewings, and recommending the unique experience to others. “Brokeback Mountain” has earned eight Academy Award nominations, and is considered a heavy favorite for the triumvirate of Picture/Director/Screenplay. It is not an undeserved honor: this is a film that will be remembered by future generations as both a watershed and a classic.

Meghan White is a contributing editor to Cinemalogue.com. Read her interview with the writers/producers of “Brokeback Mountain” at Cinemalogue.

Because I saw a press screening and I cannot be sure whether the studio intends to re-cut the film before releasing it in Minneapolis and other markets, I’ve removed the review from the main page.

I will post the review, same or revised—depending on whether or not there are any changes before the Minneapolis theatrical release, on the date of theatrical release.

I have asked for clarification on the situation from The Weinstein Company, but haven’t yet received a response. I will keep you posted if and when a revised theatrical release date for Minneapolis is given.

Diffuse Glow -or- “I Can’t See Shit Cuz My Retinas Are Burning With All This Intense White Light Everywhere” - See any Spielberg from “A.I.” onwards. Though I felt it worked for “A.I.” I hated his constant reliance on it thereafter.

16mm “war cam” -or- “Crappy Home Video of Guys Running Around Chaotically” - “Saving Private Ryan” used this effectively, but then Spielberg and others have come to rely on it too heavily as a mechanism for heightening the sense of chaos.

Ramping -or- “Crouching Tiger, Flinging Hairdo” - Though I’m guilty of having used it myself, ramping, or accelerating/decelerating the frame rate in a shot consisting of external motion or camera motion has become tiresome. The most egregious use of this is in car chases at the peak of a jump (which always seems to take place in roughly the same vicinity of downhill-sloping streets in San Fransisco), and shampoo commercials where the camera slows down as the woman flings her hair to the side, and speeds up again at the end of the follow-through… but you’ve also seen it in numerous martial arts films where not only hair, but also long robes, other textiles, and such, are flung around with frame rates speeding up and slowing down. I can often excuse it in many highly-stylized martial arts films because it’s not taken too seriously, and often the actors in these set pieces are quite skilled martial artists… so they could make the shot look good with or without the effect, but it flows poetically with it.

Motion-control ramping (aka “Bullet Time”) - A variation on ramping that uses many still cameras triggered in a series to make it appear as though an images is being frozen or slowed down and rotated, it borrows some of its inspiration from the “suspended action” frame stretches used in Anime (primarily to save money on animation, where a shot could be held on a single frame a-la Speed Racer, to convey an impending action or reaction that’s about to burst forth)… While it was cool for about five minutes, those five minutes ended in 1997 with the release of “The Matrix.”

The Time-Lapse of Guilt - Time lapse photography to show the passage of time, phases or, in the case of the director of “Koyannisqatsi”, “Powaqaatsi” and all those other tribalist cliche-fests that attempt, insipidly, to provoke the viewer’s guilt (as opposed to critical thought) at the inanity of our routines and mass-production existence … It’s time cinematographers and editors think of new techniques to show the passage of time, or cycles, or of the mundane aspects of life.

Thumping Faces of Doom - This is a cheap effect used mostly in theatrical trailers, to artificially inflate tension… it goes something like this: Cut into close-up one shot of someone’s facial expression with accompanying THUD sound, fade to black, cut into another close-up one shot with another THUD, fade to black… repeat…. if possible, include shrieking violins that increase in pitch to the last second.

Fast Shaky Head - a trick popularized by “edgy” music video directors (e.g. Tarsem Singh) in horror movies where the camera, either static or tracking, shows one guy looking at some corpse, specter or other intentionally-creepy looking person… the head shakes around rapidly to beat us in the face with the message that “SOMETHING HERE IS UNNATURAL!” Often accompanied by “Chick with Blank Face”, “Mouth Apparatus Guy” or “Girls Suspended in Metal and Wire Thingie That Rotates.”

Flying Fists of Deja Vu - Often used in Jean Claude Van Damme and Steven Seagal movies… Because they’re basically mediocre martial artists, their skill (or lack thereof) is falsely inflated by shooting coverage of the same punch and then editing it together in a fashion that makes it look as though the punch is occurring three times in rapid succession. Often, the third cut will be in slow-motion to milk the moment. This didn’t last very long in anything above B-move cinema… but it’s worth an honorable mention. This technique is also used in porn videos… or so I’ve heard.

The Thousand Yard Stare - This term wasn’t coined by me… but it refers to one of many techniques that Spielberg cribbed and bastardized from his mentor and idol, Francois Truffaut. It refers to the tendency to show someone, usually a man, in a contemplative or paralyzed stare at something off screen. We’re signaled, loudly, to understand he’s thinking REAAAAALLY hard or he’s petrified of large CG dinosaurs coming this way.

The list is in no particular order of preference, but I did try to arrange it chronologically. I began with Sergei Prokofiev’s “Alexander Nevsky” for a couple of reasons. The music, used in Sergei Eisenstein’s screen adaptation of the same story, is incredibly powerful and is perhaps the earliest, excluding house orchestra accompaniments of silent films, score that defined the art of film scoring. Countless film composers, including the borderline plagiarist James Horner, have recycled themes from Shostakovich and Prokofiev—chiefly “Nevsky.”

I’m not a huge fan of Herrmann, as it could be argued he fathered the concept of bombastic, visual cueing in which the score is used as lead to cue the audience to laugh, scream, cry or what have you… rather than the more subtle workings of say, Nino Rota, whose jibes came at you so subtly and steadily that his music toys with your subconscious. So I included a couple of pieces of Herrman’s that get overlooked in most “best of” lists because everyone goes for his more popular, but not necessarily more creative, works (”Psycho” comes to mind).

It was only logical to include the zither theme from “The Third Man” after Rota’s work on “La Dolce Vita” and “8 1/2″… these are themes you cannot stop whistling once they get inside your head. Later in the chronology, I return to Rota with Fellini’s 1974 masterpiece, “Amarcord.”

Elmer Bernstein’s theme from “To Kill a Mockingbird”… If I close my eyes listening to it, I can see Atticus talking with Scout about the pocketwatch in that most memorable scene at Scout’s bedside. Alex North’s music for “A Streetcar Named Desire”… The big, brassy swagger and the percussive shuffle invoke a thousand images of detective pulp fictions with their requisite, casual voice-overs.

What can be said about the classical selections for Kubrick’s “2001″ that is not said by the music itself? Absolutely nothing, except that once you have seen Kubrick’s masterpiece, you cannot hear these classical pieces in any context without imagining yourself in final approach to the space station (”The Blue Danube”), or overlooking the monolith as the sun emerges behind it (”Also Sprach Zarathustra”), or on the moon’s surface with the survey team encountering the first monolith (”Lux Aeterna”).

Henry Mancini was an obvious choice. However, everyone prefers to cite “The Pink Panther” and “Moon River” out of his massive repertoire. Why not the tantalizing “Charade” and the sublime “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”?

There are perhaps only two or three lyrically-accompanied songs on my list. This is chiefly a list of scores, but it’s important to recognize Harry Nilsson’s “Everybody’s Talkin’” as it is not merely a popular country/folk song, but an inextricable component of the score for “Midnight Cowboy”. All I see in my head when I hear that song is the naive Joe Buck, ambling the streets of New York.

“Patton” is a testament to the evocative genius of Jerry Goldsmith, one of the most prolific film composers of the latter 20th century. How many TV shows and films that parody war have made reference to the echoing trumpets, and how many hero stories have echoed the “Attack” theme?

There’s a certain oddity to the fact that an abbreviated version of “Tubular Bells” by Mike Oldfield, arguably a new age composition, is forever to be associated with William Friedkin’s “The Exorcist”. More importantly, it became the template for psychological thriller/horror film music for an entire generation thereafter

Much too much noise is made about John Williams, a composer who is constantly credited as being one of the greatest. Rarely is it noted how often he attempts to reinvent (and sometimes blatantly plagiarize) Gustav Holst’s “The Planets Suite”, or how often he recycles his own work (the love theme in “Star Wars: Episode II” is the children’s theme from “Hook”; every other chase sequence music in the Indiana Jones films is the Ewok chase music from “Return of the Jedi”)… However, I felt it necessary to recognize his greatest, most original, and perhaps most significant accomplishments in terms of their effect on defining film music for their respective genres. His “Imperial March” will be remembered decades from now as the greatest villain theme of all time. The march from “Raiders of the Lost Ark” is one of the most inspiring, and most fun, pieces ever composed. And, unquestionably, the most awesome and powerful superhero theme music ever devised, for “Superman”… that is, if we’re only counting superheros with super-powers.

John Boorman’s “Excalibur” was not a great fantasy epic, but its most defining instrument would be Carl Orff’s “O Fortuna” from “Carmina Burana”. It is probably the most quoted, most referenced, classical “power” piece… evoking images of vast armies, bloodshed, strife, the workings of swords and sorcery and greater forces beyond imagination.

Next, and finally, we come to Gustav Holst. His “Planets Suite” could be alternatively titled “Film Scoring for Dummies” as it is the most referenced piece in all of cinematic history. Between them, “Mars”, “Neptune” and “Jupiter” bring to mind more images and emotions than all film compositions combined. The pieces I’ve included were used directly in Phil Kaufman’s “The Right Stuff”, along with the themes from “Yeager’s Triumph” by Bill Conti—the greatest conventional hero theme I have ever heard.

I could not find the original score for “Conan: The Barbarian” on the iTunes Music Store. Instead, I’ve included a suite and a re-recording of “Anvil of Crom” as two of my favorite pieces by Basil Poledouris. “Anvil of Crom” is comprised largely of legendary, but appropriately bombastic overtones for its hero. The piece was, in fact, referenced in the title music for “Total Recall”, composed by Jerry Goldsmith. I’ll give Goldsmith a pass on that, because both films featured the larger-than-life Arnold Schwarzenegger, and the music of “Anvil of Crom” is inseparable from the image of Schwarzenegger as the Cimmerian warrior. In other words, the music from “Conan” belongs as much to Schwarzenegger as it does Poledouris.

Peter Gabriel’s combination of synthesizers and acoustic instrumentation for “The Last Temptation of Christ” is surpassed perhaps by only one composer… the progenitor of this genre of film composition, and, by far, the most original composer to ever score for film, Vangelis Papathanassiou. Having rejected formal training, and having performed his first “composition” before an audience by the age of six, Vangelis defined polyphonic synthesis before polyphonic synthesizers existed, and composed, arranged, produced and recorded entirely by himself fusions of electronic and acoustic instruments in a way so unique that various themes from “Chariots of Fire” and “Blade Runner” defined what later became known as the “Vangelis sound” (driven largely by the sawtooth-pulse rhythms from the Oberheim Matrix and Sequential Circuits Prophet-5, among 40-50 other synths in his arsenal). Here in the list are selections from his scores for Koreyoshi Kurahara’s “Antarctica”, Roger Donaldson’s “The Bounty”, Oliver Stone’s “Alexander” (not a great film, but a phenomenal accomplishment for Vangelis). There are two selections excluded only because they were not available on iTunes… Vangelis’ remastered score for “Blade Runner” and his Golden Globe-nominated score for “1492: Conquest of Paradise.” There is an orchestral adaptation of Vangelis’ “Blade Runner” score… but it borders on blasphemy. After numerous complaints that the original Vangelis score had not been released, in the mid-1990s the recording company and the studio persuaded Vangelis to recompile the original elements (reconstructing several compositions entirely from memory). This is the score I would urge you to buy… I greatly regret not being able to include it on the iMix, because it re-defined sci-fi film scores forever. I did not include “Chariots of Fire” because it’s been done too many times, and while it’s a beautiful piece I think it’s misleading to characterize his talent by it… as he has in his repertoire of over 35 solo albums and film scores far greater compositions to share with you.

A couple of selections recorded by David Helfgott himself, the prodigal subject of Scott Hicks’ “Shine”… Rachmaninov’s 3rd, and “Flight of the Bumblebee”, played with such rapid fire precision it is surpassed only by the original recording by Sergei Rachmaninov himself.

Another great hero theme, “Take Us Out” by Jerry Goldsmith, for David Anspaugh’s “Rudy”… about the quintessential underdog, Daniel E. “Rudy” Ruettiger, had to be included. Few pieces become instant classics, but this composition sounds and feels as though it’s been in the American subconscious for a century longer than it has. It has the same effect on our psyche as the characteristically-American compositions of Aaron Copland (”Fanfare for the Common Man” obviously comes to mind).

The greatest epic of the latter 20th century, without question, is Peter Jackson’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. While it would be typical to select the main themes, few compositions have stirred so much emotion in so many audiences as Howard Shore’s “The Steward of Gondor” featuring a particularly haunting lyric performed by Billy Boyd, and “Into the West” featuring the valkyrian vocals of Annie Lennox which, sadly, signaled the end of the journey for millions upon millions of Tolkien fans world wide.

Clint Mansell’s “Lux Aeterna”, not to be confused with the original classical composition by Gyorgy Ligeti, is indicative of the simultaneous despondence and accumulating power of drug addiction, a central theme of Darren Aronofsky’s “Reqiuem for a Dream,” a film that Roger Ebert described as playing like a “travelogue of hell.”‘

The selections from “Unbreakable”, score composed by James Newton Howard, are the second selections in a class of “superhero themes” in my list. Howard met with the filmmaker, M. Night Shyamalan, who determined they needed, in this unconventional superhero film, a theme that could evoke an image in five notes or less. With that, this is probably the most efficient composition on the list—conjuring more images with fewer notes than any other. “The Orange Man” is the crescendo, when David Dunn clings to a murderer with all his strength, being tossed about like a rag doll, but refusing to let go until the killer has been taken down.

The most recent selections on the list include the intricate, sad melodies of Gustavo Santaolalla’s guitar work in “Amores Perros” and “Motorcycle Diaries”.

Referencing, appropriately, “The Odd Couple” theme, is Rolfe Kent’s “Asphalt Groovin’”, featured in Alexander Payne’s “Sideways”.

And the list closes with James Newton Howard’s “Molossus” from “Batman Begins”. This is the third superhero theme, ringing in a new kind of caped crusader. The most inspiring moment is a swell in the music perhaps a couple minutes in, where Bruce Wayne rises to his feet, having conquered his childhood fear of bats, to finally embrace them as the symbol he will use to strike fear in the hearts of his enemies.

So that rounds out my list of the Greatest Film Scores. I hope people find this list useful and entertaining, as I think it represents the finest musical arrangements to accompany film since the advent of integrated cinema sound.

 
Given how long and hard you’ve been trying to get this movie made, the title “Waiting…” probably has even more meaning for you. It’s been a long road getting this film made, hasn’t it?

It’s been an insanely long road. Ultimately everything worked out in what I would consider the best-case scenario, so the wait was worth it. Back in 2000, when I gave up the rights to the script, and as a result gave up my guarantee of being the director, I felt like a sell-out. But who cares now? Not I. I mean, I got all the money for “selling out” and I still ended up being the director. And yes, you are not the first to point out how aptly titled the movie is to the long road to getting it made. I should have renamed the movie, “Just make the fucker.”

On your blog you’ve written quite candidly about your experiences (both good and bad) as a newcomer in Hollywood. What aspect of filmmaking were you least prepared for?

Hmmm… That’s a tough one. In regards to directing “Waiting…” I was so over-prepared when I eventually got to make it. That’s one of the positive by-products of it taking over six fucking years to get made. In the end, I wish I had had an extra week of shooting. Or hell, even an extra three days. There are scenes where I didn’t get all the coverage I would have liked, and as a result either the scene was cut, or it’s not one-hundred percent of what it could have been. But given that we only had 23 days of shooting, it’s a minor miracle that we got as much coverage as we did…

Speaking of your blog, you took a bit of heat for some of the content, most of which was hilarious, by the way. When can we look forward to reading about the further exploits of the “Shitbag Producer” and other tales?

Well, I’ve pretty much told the whole Shitbag producer story. Unless he gets into contact with me and whines like a little bitch or something, there isn’t much more to tell. Actually, there is one new, minor thing… After all these years, I’ve wondered if The Shitbag Producer has maybe learned from his mistakes. After all, it was several years ago, and I think he was only twenty-three at the time. But I found out recently that he blames a mutual friend for all the bad-blood between us. When the Shitbag Producer attempted to blackmail me, a mutual friend tried to play mediator, but The Shitbag Producer flew off the handle and got defensive and bitter (because he knew he was in the wrong and didn’t want to have to justify his actions). That’s when he immediately called me up and threatened me (”You’re gonna be a fucking waiter for the rest of your life!”). So now, after all these years, he blames our mutual friend for causing him to fly off the handle. He takes no responsibility for his own shitbag actions. He takes no responsibility for the fact that he tried to blackmail me. So after all these years it seems he is still the same piece of shit wrapped in a (very short) bag…

This is probably a deeply personal film for you at this point…what do you think will be harder, having gotten the film made or waiting for the reviews?

Are you kidding me? Getting the film made was the hard part. Waiting for the reviews is easy. I don’t expect the movie to be a critical darling or anything. I think some people will really like it, some people will absolutely abhor it. But for me, I put to rest any worries after our first test screening. I was in a theater filled with 250 random people and it played like a motherfucker. That test screening was one of the single greatest moments in my life… Of course I’d love for the movie to get great reviews. Who wouldn’t? But given how many dick jokes and F-bombs (of both the “fuck” and “fag” variety) there are in the movie, I don’t think it’s particularly critic-friendly.

Funny you should say that. -Ed.

Obviously “Waiting…” has it roots in your years as a server…so tell us, knowing what you know, do you ever send food back to the kitchen?

Every now and then. Sending food back isn’t really the problem. It’s how you deal with it. If you are nice and respectful to your server, and explain that a mistake was made, chances are they will jump through hoops to fix it for you, because you’ve been cool with them, and they still want a good tip. If you are an asshole, however, all bets are off. In truth, I only tainted food once, and it wasn’t even for my table. A waitress friend of mine was being abused by a bitchy lady and her two bastard children. I couldn’t let her bitchery go un-punished, so I tea-bagged her and her children’s food.

You’ve taken to the Internet Movie Database message boards to help promote your film and you’ve encountered all internet personality types, including a few trolls here and there…including those that claim that “Waiting…” is a ‘rip-off” of other films. What is your opinion of that criticism, but also, what is your opinion of the films that people claim you are “ripping off”?

Any time you put yourself out there, especially on the internet, you open yourself up for attacks. It goes with the territory. And it depends what they are saying I’m ripping off. If they say I’m ripping off “clerks,” well, they’re partially right. “Clerks” made my movie seem possible. But anyone who has seen the movie will tell you the movies are quite different. I love “Clerks” with all my heart (still Kevin Smith’s best film, by a margin, imho), but “Waiting…” is much more of an ensemble comedy. There are sixteen major characters in my movie. It has a decidely different feel, even if I did draw much inspiration from “clerks.” (dick jokes and witty banter that takes place primarily in one location). Another movie I have been accused of ripping off is a movie called “Waiting”. It’s an indie comedy about waiting tables in a restaurant. But my movie title has a “…” after it. “Waiting…” not “Waiting”. See? Totally different. But seriously, the movie was release in 2000, so I can understand why people might think that, especially since they have the same name. But honestly, I wrote the script back in ‘97, completely unaware that in the collective-conscious someone was thinking of the same thing. I happened across the website one day and my heart sunk. I thought my movie was D.O.A. Once I read the website a bit, I realized that the movies seemed quite different. I have to be honest, I’ve still not seen the other “waiting,” though I know I will eventually. Beyond those two movies, obviously it’s not fair for anyone to call the movie a “Rip-off” since no one has actually seen it yet. But why the fuck am I talking about fairness? It’s the internet for fuck’s sake…

As a first time director what was it like having such a solid cast of comedic actors to work with?

It sucked…

Obviously it fucking rocked. I would say there are at least ten to fifteen big laughs in the movie that I didn’t write. Whenever possible I let the actors have some wiggle room to find some comedy that I hadn’t thought of, and it paid off time after time. Especially with David Koechner and Dane Cook.

That’s another positive thing about it taking so long to get made. Had I made the movie when I was twenty-four, I think I would have been a bit more close-minded about letting the actors ad-lib. But since so much time elasped, I had some distance from the script and was able to be more objective. The best thing is, it still says “Written by” me, and me only. So I get credit for their brilliance anyway.

Was there ever a moment where you wondered what you were doing?

The week before shooting. It was a Sunday and I had the biggest panic attack. It suddenly hit me that I had never directed a thing in my life, and yet in one week’s time I was going to be leading a three-million dollar production. I didn’t tell anybody. I just stayed in my room and shook like a little bitch. I was worried that the fear would come back once I actually got onto set that first day. But as it turned out, since it took soooooo long to get my movie made, being on the set wasn’t nerve-racking at all. It was pure excitement. I was too overjoyed to be worried. And once you get past the first day, the rest is cake.

Currently, Darren and his associates. Travis Marquis and DJ Russell, are trying to raise funds for the film through a raffle. Information can be found on the main page in the preceding URI.

Please visit the site and, if you feel so inclined, make a donation to help them raise awareness of a growing problem in America. This is just one of many examples of the power of film, as a medium for progressive social discourse, to inform and transform our world.

Photo Credit: Copyright ©2005 Universal Studios Home Entertainment.

 
As promised, Cinemalogue.com has exclusive footage of Harry Reems discussing his reconciliation of Christianity and adult films as well as the attempts by government to censor the adult film industry.

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