Album Review: The Whigs "In the Dark" Grade: C+

Fans of “Rocky” saw what happened when “The Italian Stallion” moved from the streets into a posh mansion -- he got pampered, lost the “eye of the tiger” and was pummeled by Clubber Lane.

The Whigs’ third release, “In the Dark,” won’t get the Athens’ rockers destroyed in the ring but fans have to wonder if the band was influenced too much by the glitz of tour mates Kings of Leon and “cock of the walk” producer Ben Allen.

Like Rocky in his third film, it sounds like The Whigs have forgotten who they are in this third installment. Sure there are glimmers of the trio’s Replacements’ style college alt rock sound, but a lot of “In the Dark” is missing the unabashed ferocity that has made the trio such a success in the past. The album is a drunk’s line walk between the band’s garage rock roots and an overly studioized, Kings of Leon arena style sound. It works like jukebox provided back ground music to noisy bar conversation. Sure, it’s entertaining and fills in the gaps of awkward silence, but where’s the pulse?

Standout tracks include “Hundred/Million,” “Kill Me Carolyne” and “In the Dark,” but even they sound buried alive compared to fist pumpers “Like a Vibration” and “Right Hand on My Heart” off the band’s second effort “Mission Control” and the infectious sing-a-longs “Technology” and “Violet Furs” off the trio’s’ debut “Give ‘Em All A Big Fat Lip.”

The Whigs have not resurrected Shakespeare with any of their lyrics, but the album’s study hall quiet make the clichéd intros in “Someone’s Daughter” and “So Lonely” stand out. I know lead singer/guitarist Parker Gispert said in a November interview with Rolling Stone that he wanted to be more lyrically direct with “In the Dark,” but this can’t be what the band intended.

While “In the Dark” does not deserve the pummeling Pitchfork delivered, it also is not the progression that was expected. With their next album, The Whigs need to stay out of the arena and rediscover the garage. Ding…ding.

Fans look to 'Indepedence Day' for Leadership; Kline Camp Not Concerned

Pavarotti Killington
The Citizen

LOS ANGELES - As President Obama's approval rating continues to go down amidst stalled health care reform and a double digit unemployment rate, movie fans rallied in the hills this morning calling for a leader known for taking action - even if he is purely fictional.

Hundreds of fans of the 1996 blockbuster "Independence Day" gathered outside the home of actor Bill Pullman chanting "Today we celebrate our Independence Day" in hopes that the actor would storm Washington and oust the current regime immediately through a violent takeover or at least by 2012 through the democratic process.

"I've been out of the job for nine months now," Tom Browinsky, an unemployed welder and freqent movie goer said. President (Thomas) Whitmore is the right man for the job. In fact, he's been the right guy since '96 and I've been writing his name in the box ever since. For me the job of President is all about integrity and looking out for the regular folks like you and me. He could have laid down when those aliens were shooting that green junk everywhere but he didn't. He delivered the best speech in presidential history and even fired the first missile when their shields went down. People want a return to greatness and that's something out of George Washington's playbook, right there. He wasn't in a bunker hiding. He was there fighting for all of us."

Sandra O'Brien, an unemployed hairdresser, echoed Browinsky's view.

"Look, the guy lost his wife with his daughter at his side, and then saves the world all in a couple day's time. If he's not right for the job, then nobody is. President Whitmore has the experience and the gusto. He's even got military experience and even supported his wife Dottie during a time when many men wouldn't have, when she was catcher for the Peaches. I can't say it enough. He is the man America needs. A man of action and progression."

After twenty minutes of chanting, Pullman addressed the crowd from his front door in a bathrobe.

"I appreciate your support. I really do. But I'm not a politician. President Whitmore was a character I played 15 years ago. Please go home, please. I love that I have such great fans, but please. Remember, I'm Mr. Wrong. There's people out there, real politicians, who you need to get behind. They're Mr. Right."

However, the crowed remained while Pullman stayed indoors until a street brawl broke out between Pullman supporters and those of a Jeff Goldblum/Will Smith ticket.

"They came out of nowhere," Earl Goodwin, a Pullman supporter said, as his forehead gushed blood. "We were just gathering peacefully and they go and do this. What is the world coming too?"

Dedrich David Smith, the spokesman for the Los Angeles Chapter of Get (Jeff) Goldblum and (Will) Smith Into the White House, said "Look I hate that people got hurt. We're not about that. Sometimes people lose their heads. We're just here to show that Mr. David Levinson and Capt. Steven Hiller are the true heroes and not that charlatan Whitmore. Levinson cracked the code knocking out the force field and is the reason Whitmore even got out of the White House before it blew up, and Hiller is the pilot that Whitmore wishes he could be. All Whitmore did was push a button. The truth is, if the greatest American hero, Mr. Russell Casse was still with us, he'd be the first President elected unanimously in history, and that's a fact."

Goldblum and Smith could not be reached for comment by press time.

The campaign manager for Kevin Kline's presidential bid, Cecil Forte, issued a short statement to the press in response to the outpouring for Pullman.

"Look, nobody can deny that President Whitmore did amazing things. He's the only president who ever had to respond to an alien invasion, and even I can't say that he could have handled it any better than he did. But the fact is, we're not under attack by aliens, right now. We're under attack from unemployment, insurance companies, and a distrust in government. It won't take a scientist turned cable man and a future astronaut to solve these problems either. It'll take a man of Dave's stature. An everyman who got people jobs when there were no jobs to be had. A man who fought so he could see the triumphant look on the faces of those who had work. A man who cut government fat so the money could go to children who needed it. To me that's real action and it doesn't take being in a cockpit to do it. It just takes being there for the American people when they need you most."

After issuing the statement Forte refused to answer questions. Kline could not be reached for comment by press time.

Michael Douglas, Dennis Haysbert, Martin Sheen, John Travolta, Jack Nicholson and Chris Rock could also not be reached for comment by press time.

Book Review: "No Country for Old Men" by Cormac McCarthy 5/5

Cormac McCarthy’s last novel, 2006’s “The Road,” is a handkerchief soaked look at the love between a father and son trying to survive the carnage of a post apocalyptic world. It received much praise from the literary community, including a Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and many awws and tears from Oprah’s Book Club members.

“No Country for Old Men,” McCarthy’s preceding novel, is worthy of similar praise and, for those who read it after first consuming “The Road,” blasts any lingering scraps of sympathy away with a silenced shotgun. It is sheer ruthlessness packed into a modern cowboy noir page turner.

For those who are too busy hanging out at The Maxx to write a Belding approved book report, the Coen Brothers’ 2007 Academy Award winning masterpiece based on this novel pretty much has it covered from start to finish. Readers are introduced to three men whose storylines intertwine through numerous shootouts and bloodbaths until fate or their own actions (you decide) take them to at least two, maybe three surprising conclusions:

Llewelyn Moss, a trailer park genius forced to live on the wits his Vietnam War training gave him as he absconds with a briefcase containing two million drug war earned dollars; the monster on his trail, Anton Chigurh, a philosophical sadist hitman who doles out death as the hand of fate with slaughterhouse weaponry and viciousness; and the Eisenhowerian Ed Tom Bell, an “I’m too old for this shit!” sheriff content with drinking sweet tea as he rocks his way into the sunset of retirement, now faced with capturing the Devil spawned Chigurh, whose thirst for killing is as gargantuan as the Texas county he swore to protect.

As is usually the case, the novel is superior to the movie. While the Coens make terrific films, McCarthy’s a run producer in the starting lineup of American literary giants. His story telling is brilliant, and his ability to craft realistic regional dialogue is a big part of what makes this thriller flow so well. Also, movie goers who frowned at the Coens’ seemingly non-climactic ending will have a better sense of its meaning (or at least think they do) when they finish the novel, as it is made clearer through McCarthy’s use of Bell’s separate monologues commenting on society’s current state and the aimless battle between good and evil.

These themes are prevalent among others like fate and aging, and another part of what McCarthy does so well with “No Country for Old Men.” It is a tale filled with so much meaning disguised as a “can’t put it down” action thriller.

Definitely not a bedtime story for the kiddies unless the pop doing the reading is Ed Gein, ”No Country for Old Men” is a must for readers who want a thrilling tale told by one of today’s best authors.

Book Review: "Into Thin Air" by Jon Krakauer 4.5/5

For most of us, rolling off the couch for an hour long session of working out and ogling before primetime requires a depressingly modern form of energy drink induced willpower. For a few, like author Jon Krakauer and mountain climbers in general, will is something much more.

In, “Into Thin Air,” Krakauer’s personal account of the 1996 Mount Everest disaster, readers are introduced to a world where will is training for a year to fulfill a lifelong dream of climbing one of the world’s most hallowed peaks, continuing to climb despite bitter cold and increasingly oxygen depleted air, and turning back because of unfavorable conditions only hundreds of feet from the peak after a lifetime of dreaming and forking over thousands of dollars -- something that the climbers suffering from “Summit Fever” on May 10 could not do.

Krakauer’s gut wrenching, journalistically sound account makes it clear that the true danger in scaling Everett isn’t reaching the top but having the energy and clear mind to get back down. The novel, written as a catharsis over his survivor’s guilt only a year after the disaster, attempts to ask, what happened up there? What led experienced expedition leaders to make such egregious decisions?

Mainly the answers come in the form of varying high altitude sicknesses that affect the mind. Suffering from hypoxia (an amount of oxygen deprivation so great the adult mind is turned into that of a slow child’s) himself, it is tear jerking to read Krakauer’s account of how his oxygen depleted mind would not allow him to comprehend the obvious dangers looming ahead for his fellow climbers and save his friend and guide, Andy Harris.

Answers also come in the commercialization of Everett where expedition teams haul novice climbers up the mountain as long as their wallets are fat enough. Since Sir Edmund Hilary and Tenzing Norgay became the first climbers to scale the mountain 43 years earlier, the previously unreachable Everett had almost become a joke to respected climbers. Mapped out by expedition teams, Everett had become exploited to the point where clients were bringing fax machines to base camp, a lama showed off a picture of himself posing with Steven Segal, and deceased climbers from failed treks shared the mountain with hundreds of depleted oxygen tanks.

Therefore, there were climbers on the mountain who had no business being there who paid an extravagant amount of money to reach the 29,028-foot summit, as if reaching the peak is something automatic when it has more do with luck and perfect conditions than actual skill and a $65,000 price tag. The question then became for expedition leaders, how do we turn around clients who are so close, have endured so much, and have paid so much money? What will turning around such high paying clients do to my company’s reputation? And sadly, the inability to make this tough decision led to the deaths of so many clients and the expedition leaders themselves.

While this is not a book that will be studied in literature classes, it is impossible not to be moved by “Into Thin Air.” It is a novel that will be enjoyed as much as Krakauer probably hated writing it.

R.I.P J.D. Salinger

J.D. Salinger, the author known for his solitary lifestyle almost has much as his literary talents, died two days ago at the age of 91 at his home in Cornish, NH. I'm not going to attempt any kind of essay on Salinger as the New York Times has it covered, and it will only serve as an injustice to the man who wrote "The Catcher in the Rye."

I've only read two of Salinger's novels, "The Catcher in the Rye" and "Franny and Zooey." The latter was read in my high school honors English class manly in passing as I had to write a research paper comparing and contrasting two novels written by an author we read that semester. I don't remember the novel at all as, like many papers written back then, it was done in between games of HalfLife, CounterStrike and online chatting.

But I'll never forget "The Catcher in the Rye." I've always enjoyed reading, but as many of us can agree to I'm sure, reading for school can be a chore. Often students feel forced to read novels by authors long dead about topics long forgotten in forms of English that are barely understandable today. Sometimes there are books that go against this norm and "The Catcher in the Rye" was that for me.

Finally a book for school that I actually enjoyed. This hadn't happened since sophomore English when we read the "Odyssey," and, let's just say, Salinger far surpassed Homer. We were only assigned to read the first two or three chapters the first night, but I found myself unable to put the novel down. I read at least half the book that night, only stopping because there was other homework to attend too.

"No wonder kids needed a permission slip to read this book back in the day." I thought as I flipped page after page filled with the profanities and "phonies" of Holden Caulfield.

Almost a decade later, a few years back, I re-read the book, and was amazed at how I still identified with it even though high school seemed one hundred years away. I decided then to re-read it at least once every five years or so to see how my opinion of it would change. Would I still identify with Caufield or view him with an adult's cynicism?

We'll see.

Thank you Mr. Salinger for giving us this book. I wonder how much you laughed between 1961 and 1982 when it was the most censored book in the United States.

Looking Forward to The Whigs' "In the Dark"

As January comes to an end, my anticipation is growing for The Whigs' latest album, "In the Dark," which has an official release date of March 16.

The Whigs have to be one of the most underrated bands out there. The band's first two albums, "Give 'Em All A Big Fat Lip" and "Mission Control," are what Christopher Walken as The Producer Bruce Dickinson would refer to as pure gold although neither feature one nanosecond of cowbell.

So, I'm excited to see what the trio have in store. After hearing the title track live at the Hummingbird Stage & Taproom a few months back and listening to more of the new stuff online, its pretty clear that "In the Dark" will be a new step for The Whigs.

Lead singer/guitarist Parker Gispert reaffirmed this in a November interview with Rolling Stone as he discussed the different approaches the band was taking with this album: its the first album with new bassist, Tim Deaux, the first with producer Ben Allen (Animal Collective’s "Merriweather Post Pavilion"), the first where Gispert channels the lyrical directness of country music, particularly that of Johnny Cash and the first after connecting, shiver me timbers, with Kings of Leon.

Well, the Whigs haven't disappointed yet, so I expect more greatness. I just hope "In the Dark" is more Cash than Kings.

The Hidden Genius of Home Alone

Ahh, there you are. Welcome cinephiles, one and all, to these hallowed pages where we, masters of the craft, can hide from the weekend box office smash watching rabble. I am Pavarotti Killington, your guide to the movies.

Movie critics agree that there have been numerous ground breaking pictures followed by, arguably, even greater sequels: “The Godfather” and “The Godfather II,” “A New Hope” and “The Empire Strikes Back” and “The Fellowship of the Ring” and “The Two Towers,” to name a few examples. But all of these films must bow to the greatest one, two combination of all time, the Ruth and Gehrig of movie pairings: “Home Alone” and “Home Alone 2.”

Surely you jest, sir, you are saying, as you grab the nearest pitchfork and wrap this lighted article around your freshest torch. But, please, sit, and instead grab your monocle and pipe and light your finest tobacco as you ponder my argument.

At their surfaces, these two films are already high in the canon of cinematic taste for good reason. Both are hysterical, emotionally touching, and feature the fine acting of Macaulay Culkin, who is perhaps the greatest young thespian to ever grace the screen, matched, perhaps, only by Haley Joel Osment of “The Sixth Sense.”

However, in its simple packaging as a classic John Hughes comedy revered by young and old, it’s easy to miss the nuances and messages which these films truly wish to convey. Do not feel depressed or curse your supposed good taste. This is something even the greats of the illustrious American Film Institute have failed to realize with all of their tweed jackets and beard rubbing.

Enough cannot be said of the sheer genius of Hughes. Take his satirical portrayal of the suburban family in all its greatness: the big house, the fancy possessions and the wealth to send themselves and Uncle Frank’s family on not one, but two vacations.

Yet, somehow amidst this capitalist prestige, society’s model family manages to forget their youngest son, not once, but twice, causing a chain of calamity that only comes to an end thanks to the street smarts of said youngster. Would an inner city welfare mother working two jobs to make ends meet be met with such forgiveness and robust laughter, or would the forgotten child, soaked in tears, be ripped from mother’s arms to the repeated cries of “I did the best I could. It was an accident.”

The brilliance does not stop there. In “Home Alone 2,” Hughes shows us one of the grandest five stars hotels the world has ever seen. But, with all of The Plaza’s glitz, glamour and supposed hospitality, the young Kevin turns to a feces covered bird lady, who is so much of a hermit that she does not even chant, “toppins for a bag.” Hence, the two stereotypes are flipped upside down as she befriends Kevin and ultimately saves him, which the dolts at the hotel fail to do.

Sure, they were tricked by a Talkboy and foiled by the antagonist of “Angels with Even Filthier Souls,” but as adults responsible enough to run a fine hotel, society would expect them to possess the wisdom of forgiveness to save the boy. Again, Hughes’ shows that society’s labels are not always so fitting. Furthermore, that a world with no labels would perhaps be a true utopia.

The examples of such genius in these two cinematic achievements are endless, so I will digress no further as you clearly get the point. Every artist aims to create something unreachable and ever lasting. May there be hope that these “family” films are not perfection. That artists will not pack their creativity, forever depressed by the revelation that these films make future cinema irrelevant.