This could be thought of two ways – the NHL has reached the 80th percentile on their way through the regular season… or the NHL is really playing at about 80% overall right now.
In truth, it’s both.
This article was all set to run Monday morning… as in Monday the 19th of April. Sunday the 18th was supposed to be Colorado Avalanche game number 45, the benchmark for roughly 80% through the regular season.
So what happened?
A short while ago, justice was served.
Derek Chauvin, the police officer who, on video, murdered George Floyd was convicted of all the counts he was charged with- second-degree unintentional murder, third-degree murder and second-degree manslaughter. His bail was revoked and he was taken away in handcuffs, remanded into custody.
I am currently overwhelmed with feelings and emotions and would just like to share a few of them.
Continue reading “Derek Chauvin: Convicted Murderer”
When you’re looking at the nominees for Best Director (as I did yesterday), you’ll see that four of the five nominees have something in common: with one notable exception, every director vying for the big prize is a relative newcomer. Promising Young Woman is Emerald Fennell’s directorial debut, and Lee Issac Chung (Minari), Thomas Vinterberg (Another Round) and Chloè Zhao (Nomadland) all have had careers, but each of them are finding the spotlight with their nominated film. I mean, to be fair, Vinterberg has had a very illustrious career in his home country of Denmark, but this is the first time American audiences are really finding out about him.
The one notable exception is David Fincher. And he is, in no uncertain terms, pretty fucking notable.
Since 1994, David Fincher has been one of Hollywood’s most consistent director. His films have two notable things in common: they are interesting, profitable, and always among the best films of the year. What’s even more amazing about that is that Fincher makes a very specific type of movie: his movies are usually for adults and capable of evoking strong emotions. Zhao will probably win the Oscar this week, and her next film is a Marvel movie. It is almost impossible to imagine David Fincher taking this kind of a career arc.
Unlike the other great directors of this era (Spielberg, The Coen Brothers, Steven Soderbergh) who seem capable of cranking out a movie every nine months or so, Fincher is known for laborious work schedules. Dude is gonna take his time and you will get his movie when he is goddamned good and ready. Stories from the set of his films often involve tens, or in some cases, over a hundred takes, as the director attempts to break actors down to get the most raw and real performances. When you take into account that the best performances from some pretty impressive actors (Brad Pitt, Ben Affleck, Jesse Eisenberg, Rooney Mara, Justin Timberlake, Amanda Seyfried, etc.) come from David Fincher films, it’s hard to argue with the process.
And yet, for all of his excellence, especially in the 21st century, Fincher has not gotten any real love from the Academy. Three nominations and no wins, and what they choose to nominate is fucking baffling. Mank, the film he is currently nominated for, is his most nominated film, and it’s nowhere close to being his best film.
So what is his best film? Let’s rank some Fincher, my little film darlings!
Continue reading “FBC Oscar Coverage, Part XI: Ranking David Fincher”
Well, it’s been a long road. We’ve talked about screenplays. We’ve talked about leading performances and supporting performances. We talked about all of the categories that are on when you decide to take a bathroom break. But now, it’s time for the two big categories. Let’s get predictin’!!!
Continue reading “FBC Oscar Coverage, Part X: Predicting The Winners (Part 5)”
It’s October, something unfamiliar to the Detroit Tigers. The last time they won a playoff series was the 1984 World Series, twenty-two years in the rear view mirror. They’ve already won one this year taking three straight games over the dreaded Yankees after dropping the first. Tonight, they could sweep the perennial postseason participant Athletics. The game is tied at three as it turns to the bottom of the ninth. The first two Tiger batters went down quickly, Marcus Thames on a flyball to center and Curtis Granderson, in his first full season, on a liner to right. Craig Monroe singles. Placido Polanco follows suit. The pennant-clinching runner is in scoring position. In steps Magglio Ordoñez, the ten-year veteran from Venezuela. His opponent is the 2005 Rookie of the Year, Huston Street. They had only met twice before, the first time back on July 4th of the current year, when Street got Ordoñez to strike out swinging on four pitches. The second, three days earlier that ended in a groundout. But every at bat is another chance to undo a previous mistake. Comerica Field is shaking in anticipation of a World Series berth. Magglio steps into the batter’s box, grinds his front cleat against the dirt to get a strong foothold. Street gets the sign, winds and delivers.
Continue reading “Baseball, Art out of Time: High Into The Night”
We’re less than two weeks away from the Oscars. It’s movie’s biggest night! Are you pumped? GET PUMPED. FUCKING DO IT.
Next week, we’ll cover who will win for Best Director and Best Picture. But there are tons more categories for the Oscars! Let’s get my predictions on what hasn’t been covered yet!
Continue reading “FBC Oscar Coverage, Part IX: Predicting The Winners (Part 4)”
It’s 11:35pm on a cool Thursday night in April, 2015. Hustle Bankroll, the opening act for the night has just completed his second set, having been asked to fill time. The headliner, nearly three hours late, is Earl Simmons, the now late DMX. The Vogue theater on the north side neighborhood of Broad Ripple is packed full of people. Near the sound booth is a contingent from a sorority, a pack of AKA women dressed in their unmistakable pink and green. By the bar, a group of twenty-something men in tieless dress shirts and jackets. On stage, a man in an oversized Pelle Pelle jacket starts to make an announcement and is stopped by a tall man in a long Ruff Ryders t-shirt. “What?!” He exclaims, pulling the mic away. He’s shocked. Both men rush off stage. Despite reassurance from promoters that he’s coming, DMX is nowhere to be seen. A man two rows from the stage says to his friend, “how much you wanna bet his ass got arrested?”
Continue reading “From Then Til Now, Don’t Ask Me How”
Last week, I gave you my predictions for the supporting categories. Let’s take a look at the leads!
Continue reading “FBC Oscar Coverage, Part VIII: Predicting The Winners (Part 3)”
It’s a clear, cool night in Anaheim. The season is not yet a week old, and trends from the prior year linger like cirrocumulus clouds dotting the sky just west of the ballpark. The Seattle Mariners have lost four of their first five games. They’ll lose this one too, despite beginning the game with a pair of runs off of Angels’ pitcher Ricky Nolasco. It’s April 8th, 2017. The Mariners’ starter is Felix Hernandez, King Felix to the Seattle faithful. He’s in the twilight of a career that included a Cy Young award, a perfect game, and not a single start in the postseason. Hernandez gets Angel hitters Yunel Escobar and Kole Calhoun to ground out to start the bottom half of the first inning. Into the box steps the best player on Earth. His name is Michael Nelson Trout, Mike for short, and he’s the reason many people are watching this game.
Continue reading “Baseball, Art out of Time: The King’s Gambit”
There’s a dry-erase calendar hanging up behind me as I begin to write this. It mostly displays my work schedule and reminders of an occasional virtual D&D session. I bought it a couple years ago because I thought having a physical calendar would give me one less thing to rely on my phone for, as if my eyes being constantly glued to a screen would be a calendar’s fault and not the dark, endless ocean of internet garbage. Right now, however, as I write these very words, there’s something different written at the bottom of the calendar: “Days Left: 26”.
I chuckled to myself this morning at how vague it would look to an onlooker, and I laughed even harder knowing that a realtor would be showing my apartment to potential new tenants this afternoon. I considered planting ominous objects near the calendar to further the mystery. Mostly, I contemplated the large dive knife in a shoebox on my closet shelf, as purchasing a spool of rope would perhaps be a bit extravagant and in poor taste. All sight gags aside, the event the countdown represents is not even close to sinister, but it represents one of the most significant events I’ll ever experience; I’m leaving the only area I’ve ever known my whole life to move across the country.
Continue reading “One Dipped Beef to Go”
