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Whether to see Collateral was a tough call: in the plus column, ultra-visual director Michael Mann, and in the minus, the pretty boy with elevator shoes. James Wolcott's prominently-placed blog recommendation tipped the scales, and the movie ultimately delivered with its delirious, film-length night ride through the back streets, office districts, and low-rent apartment parking lots of Los Angeles. It's palpably gorgeous filmmaking, constantly veering between highly subjective close-ups and unusual architectural angles. The plot [spoiler] is almost identical to Phone Booth's: a remorseless sociopath helps an everyday Joe get in touch with his inner feelings. A lot of it plays like a cop buddy film: the dialogue is sharp and funny but the story is the kind of thing that only happens in a Hollywood screenwriter's too-clever imagination. One funny subplot (OK, in a sick way) involves undercover detective Mark Ruffalo, who reprises the Scatman Crothers story line in The Shining. And, OK, the elevator shoes guy is serviceable (as opposed to his usual out and out bad) as a graying, brush-cut psycho.
I have a lot of older work that got documented with a polaroid or not at all; using the digital camera means some of it is seeing the light of day. This was a piece from '96, one of the last of a series where I was taping legal pad sheets together and painting big dumb molecules on them. The doodles on the pad are pretty murky but trust me, you don't want to see them up close. I thought I was being funny channeling my inner high school student but the drawings are straight-up cringe-inducing. I paint the molecules on the computer now; I don't miss the carpal tunnel from painting them with real paint but the drips were fun to do. The only reason I'm pulling this out now is I reached a point with the computer-painting where I want to see more real world grit, and this older work is all about grit.