Joaquin Phoenix Is Not My Hero, But I Like His House

Just watched I'm Still Here at CPH:DOX. I miss LA. It's shallow to say that, I know. Especially considering that I'm making this confession after watching what is arguably the archetypal example of everything that is wrong with that city.

Thing is, in LA, everything is truly better, and when it's not better, there's certainly more of it. I miss the Dodgers and hot dogs on Sunset at 3am in Echo Park and obscenely long drives to the beach on a Saturday morning and partying with c-list celebrities and overpriced but totally worth it omakase and that special attitude LA girls have and the newly invented expressions by ageing hipsters and the way I feel when I know it's late November and the sun sweats me and when I'm playing tennis and am bored to death by a conversation about 'the industry' and then I realize: it's so fucking cool that I'm bored by conversations about 'the industry'.

Acting Like An Idiot Gets Girls

So I've been escaping from myself the past few months. Hence, the lack of posts, or lack of progress of any kind for that matter. I guess, coming off of the emotional drama that was my last film, Hunter/Gatherer, I've been laying low, and really, drinking myself into oblivion.

A talented friend of mine told me just the other day that I live a crazy life. And at first I wasn't inclined to believe him. I mean, after all...I'm the guy who didn't have a girlfriend until he was 18. I'm the guy who doesn't drive a car, or go to crazy clubs on the weekend. I'm the guy who slept through the house parties, and lived like a fifty year old even when I had next to infinite resources when living in Los Angeles.

And then my friend reminded me that at Bakken on Thursday, I took my trousers off and had two icelandic girls groping my...junk. I have two stunning Dutch models staying with me for a week starting on the 24th. I'm producing music videos and commercials. I'm working in the field that I want to be working in, and I'm not starving...for now.

So what's the disconnect? Why am I not enjoying that which is so very real and apparent to me at this moment in my life? Is it because it's all fake clouded over in a haze of over-tired-ness?

Thing is, I haven't slept for the past three weeks...at least not more than for three or four hours at a time...until yesterday. This type of behaviour is certainly not conducive to a good work ethic. Finally, I stopped myself from going out, and after heading home and eating a giant bowl of KD (thanks mom) passed out to the laugh track of That Mitchell and Webb Look (start it at 7:35 and be sure to click through to the following segment).

This morning, I've awoken, committed, happy, and devoted to the task at hand - success. But what am I sacrificing for a good work ethic? Maybe it's just that which I already can barely appreciate - the already crazy life that I may or may not lead.

Hunter Gatherer on Facebook!

Hey All,

I just created a fan page for my film Hunter/Gatherer on Facebook! You can access it here.

Become a fan for all screening updates, behind the scenes news, and any and information about the cast/crew.

Thanks!

Jonathan

A letter to Flavorwire. (you should check them out)

Hey Guys(or girls),

I've been an avid follower since a few years ago when I lived in LA and used your weekly e-mail to figure out my cultural happenings.

But since I moved to Denmark, I've been following Flavorwire, mostly, and it's come to my attention, that a lot of what you're writing is very...well...how shall I say it. Female. It's not that what I'm reading isn't interesting - in fact - exactly the opposite. I've found flavorwire to be getting better and better.

Except for that I just find there's always a very, well, female bent to most of the opinion-based articles. And although there's nothing inherently wrong with the pieces being written by women, I think there lies a problem in the articles having a particularly female voice.

I mean, really. Reading flavorwire has almost become like watching a Jane Campion film. Intelligent, well informed, intuitive, and inherently female.

So anyway, I'll still keep reading, but I just wanted to send you all a quick note to let you know what's been on my mind.

Best,

Jonathan

The Roxy

The word Roxy has held three significant meanings in my life thus far.

#1 - The name of the discount movie theater in Victoria (the cook/quadra village, specifically) where one could eat the best popcorn in the city while sitting in a double-bench with your squeeze watching a double-bill for only $5.

#2 - The name of a girl I thought was super hot when I was in the eighth grade at Cedar Hill Junior Secondary School.

#3 - A theater after which #1 is named, torn down in 1960, located in New York City at 60th & 7th.

I stumbled upon a really amazing project of a site called Cinema Treasures a few years back, and have now just re-discovered it after finding out that my beloved Roxy (in Victoria) is for sale and facing demolition. Call it nostalgia, but I'm really finding this a tough one emotionally. Reading the posts on Cinema Treasures' page, I can't help but notice how much these movie theaters mean to us.

In a way, these theaters are just as important as our parents in terms of the way they excited us, provoked our emotions and imagination, and awed us with their larger-than-life ornamentation. And it gets worse.

Reading the history of why these amazing film palaces closed is like listening to a broken record. Around the 1960's, with the advent of television, the owners and others concerned were convinced that movie theaters would be a thing of the past. So thousands of palaces were stripped and shuttered, and unfortunately in the Roxy's case, demolished.

And how is today any different? With the advent of digital technology, big screen home-theaters, and the internet, the very same people who killed off a certain type of movie-going experience are trying to do it again (albeit with theaters much less grandiose than before).

When will people begin to understand that for most people, going to the movies has nothing to do with the medium on which it's presented, nor the film itself (proven by this years abysmal showing out of Hollywood). It's simply about the social experience of sharing a few enjoyable minutes with others.

So when you're justifying why it's okay that times change and things progress, just ask yourself the following two questions.

When the car was invented, did horse-racing vanish? What was the best meal of your life - was it something you shared with others, or something only you experienced?

NOW that's what I call a widget.

Well, Sprint first brought us the innovative Sprint Relay Online service, much to the delight of prank callers everywhere.

And NOW (forgive the pun...you'll understand what I mean in a second), they've come up with something much cooler. If you forgive them for the quasi-new-age-intellectual crap, that is. It's a really cool website launched a few months ago for their newly branded 4G network, NOW.

In 101 Reykjavik, Hlynur Bjorn, the story's antihero, asks why there isn't information that tells us how many people are having sex in Turkey right now. Or how many acres of forest are being cut at any given moment in time.

Well, NOW it's here. Cool promotional idea.

Commercials, Truth, and Image

In Moviemakers' Master Class by Laurent Tirard, all the directors talk about the idea of film grammar. They discuss the development of filmic grammar-as-communication dating back to the days of D.W. Griffiths and Orson Welles. I've found, post-production on Hunter/Gatherer, that I have my own kind of grammar that's developing as I direct more and more.

During Wim Wenders' master class, he expresses concern over the fact that young directors are "working with images that have a totally different primal function" (music videos and commercials), and that as such, they are "losing the notion of what storytelling means". He continues by asserting that "young directors are, above all, aiming to accomplish something new. They feel that they must impress audiences with the novelty of their work".

I, unfortunately, agree. As a young director, I feel so much pressure, in any and all of my projects to deliver material that is somehow...new. And I'm afraid that there's a bit of truthiness (to quote Stephen Colbert) slipping into commercials and music videos these days.

For example, check out the below. It's a link to a New Zealand energy drink ad inherently claiming the existence of a non-existing sport. Same thing goes for Saatchi and Saatchi's very successful city surfing ads.

Whatever happened to Truth Well Told? Why do we have to start lying in order to sell something? What does that say about what we're selling?

Parkour With Ladders Movie.

Back to Culture...and Reading Lists

Here's a list of the books that I'm reading at the moment.

-Reykjavik 101 - Hallgrímur Helgason
-Nausea - Jean-Paul Sartre
-Innocent When You Dream: Tom Waits, The Collected Interviews
-Le Corbusier & The Architecture of Reinvention
-Moviemakers' Master Class - Laurent Tirard (a really great collection of interviews with directors such as Tim Burton, Sydney Pollack, Oliver Stone, Wong Kar-Wai, and Jean-Pierre Jeunet, to name but a few)

A big movie (and book) of my youth, is The Princess Bride, by William Goldman (the film version was directed by Rob Reiner starring Carey Elwes and Robin Wright Penn when she was a total looker). So I just reserved it at the library and am going to watch it with C- in the coming week.

Back in Copenhagen.

Today marks the first day of my new full time job as an unemployed film director.

After having left the holiday resort in north Jutland, I moved back to Copenhagen to enjoy a new life in the city. I now spend my days writing music video pitches, short and feature film treatments, and reading books on the craft of filmmaking. I'm also looking at which film schools to apply to for the fall 2011 semester. So far the list looks like the following;

UCLA Film Masters
American Film Institute
USC Masters both the film and tv production and the writing program
NYU Tisch Film
The New School for Dramatic Directing
NFTS (London)
La Femis (Paris)

Most of the application deadlines aren't for at least a few months, but it's really amazing how researching a university thoroughly can change your idea of what actually happens there. If only I had done that before attending both of my undergraduate institutions.

And They Carried Beautiful Baggage

About two months ago now, I travelled back home to Canada for my graduation from university as well as my birthday and a few other lovely days of general celebration with my family. Arriving in Washington Dulles airport at the same time as a flight from Moscow, a flight from Tokyo, and my flight from Copenhagen. Of course the people were all very differently dressed, spoke in varying volumes, and, well, looked different. But what I noticed more than anything was the luggage.

The Russians had luxury American luggage from the 90's. We're talking Samsonite to the extreme.

The Danes had boring luggage. Mostly black tones...very functional stuff.

The Japanese however, had the most incredible array of hard-shell cases in every color imaginable(I'm sure the packing jobs within were just as amazing!). In a lot of ways, it really makes sense. We discovered the most efficient way to ship is by container, so why not model our luggage after the same geometric proportions?

What really caught my eye though, was an immaculately dressed couple about twenty people ahead of me in the customs queue. The woman was carrying just a Louis Vuitton handbag, and the man was rolling the most glorious piece of luggage I've seen, well, ever.

Even nicer than that Marc Jacobs job in Hotel Chevalier.

I asked him what it was, and in halting English, we discovered it would be easier for him to write the name down on my iPod.

"Grobetrotter"

Of course, he meant, Globetrotter, the fantastic british luggage that's been manufactured with the same traditional processes for over 100 years. I'm sold.

Have a great week!

Rainy Days

It's raining. It's raining and I'm feeling it. The sun is trying to peek through the golden rimmed clouds and the birds are singing, and the grass makes that lovely sound that it does after a heavy rain...not quite squishy, but not crunchy either. I'm listening to Mendelssohn's Songs Without Words, and considering whether or not to continue working for the day.

Work has become troublesome. Our new manager, S- (well in fact he's the only manager the place has ever had) has a wife, and together, they make a very suspicious couple. I know they're trying to figure out things as they go along, however their actions are making the life of the resort seem dull and untowards. Every time I see them, they shoot me a suspicious look, and although I've done nothing wrong, I begin to feel guilty.

Maybe it's just symptomatic of my desire to leave this place. It's a tough call. I really like the people I work with...I enjoy their company, and the locale is beautiful. I've joined the sailing club, and I basically eat for free. I have a big house with an ocean view, and enough furniture and work to keep me occupied for the time being...but I can't help feeling like I'm wasting my time here.

When I was a little kid, I really wanted to work. I wanted to contribute - or at least I wanted to contribute in whatever way I could at that point...I think I was about eight years old - so my mother lined me up with a job at the local health food store. I'm pretty sure that she was such a good customer with all of her herbal supplements that they said yes just to make sure they didn't lose her.

After school one day, as a surprise, my nanny picked me up and drove me to the food store. They were very excited to see me, and after putting me in an apron, they put me to work sorting Soya Milk cartons. I was only there a short time when the owner arrived and freaked out, thinking that child services was going to shut the place down. So I got fired. After MAYBE 15 minutes. They asked what I'd like to get paid, and I asked for five dollars. They laughed.

I think in some way, this sums up my relationship with life. I'm keen, but expect a high return on investment.

Maybe this is why I like filmmaking so much. One has to put in an enormous amount of effort in, for the minute possibility of a high rate of return. It's a gamble, but it's a gamble I love. I think if I had any smaller of an ego, I could never do it. I just wouldn't believe in myself enough to actually get anything accomplished. In any case, that which has hindered me in so many of my relationships (my ego, at least according to those involved in the failed relationships) also allows me to disregard failure completely. Funnily, lack of fear of failure has also been my downfall when it comes to basic employment.

See, I can't take it seriously. Lift this piece of metal and put it over there. Cut that piece of wood. Sit in a boiling hot room and do nothing for eight hours. It's ridiculous stuff I'm doing. I would much rather be creating art, or at least messages that get out to people.

So when S- lumbers around frowning at everyone, I feel almost inspired to quit. I explained it to a friend this way.

"On a scale of 1-100. 1 being a tiny amount of discontent with work, such as they don't give discounts on the iced cream, and 100 being the tipping point where you quit, I'm at 60."

Luddites

I went sailing tonight at the Rønbjerg Sejlklub with two older gentlemen, Bent, and Ingolf. They were fun, Danish, and a little drunk at the beginning of the race. This did not however affect their performance much, and after getting across the line in a timely fashion, we proceeded to make our way up to the first mark at the head of the pack.

But as we reached the mark, something happened. Although we could see the mark approaching the lay-line (for those of you non-believers, a lay-line refers to the point at which a boat can tack ((change directions going up-wind)) and make the mark.) the two gents became fixated on using their newly purchased instruments to figure out at which point they could tack. By the time they figured it out, the optimal time to tack was long gone.

These men were convinced that their new GPS combo thingy was helping them be better sailors...and maybe in some cases it would...but maybe we also need to remember that sometimes looking outside the boat with our eyes is the best technology one can possess.

-J

moss

Dear All,

I've recently faced a philosophical conundrum. (what else do you expect from someone who's been clearing tennis courts for four days?)

Here's how it started.

Upon close inspection of the tennis courts, I realized that there was a thick layer of moss covering most of the court. At first, I started to shovel it up, attacking this intruder as the ground-thief that is was. After a break, I changed my tune.

I sympathise with the moss, as it was there first. And plus, I really like moss. It reminds me of home in Victoria. But I also really enjoy Tennis. So unfortunately I had to destroy all of it, and then add insult to injury by spraying the courts with a toxic weed-killer. Such is life.

But it made me think about other intruder/i-was-here-first type relationships. We've all experienced it in the sandbox, and that kind of thing is happening on a political level all the time in the colonies. Where do ones rights begin/end? Does nature have rights?

-J

Sartorial Flare...I believe.

One of my past New Years resolutions was to wear some form of tie at least four times per week. Needless to say, I haven't kept to my most sacred of personal promises, however, I've gained a new appreciation for the art of the bow tie - in particular, that a bow-tie is not a bow-tie, unless you tie it.

I'm nostalgic, at best. So when I came across these bow and neckties the other day, I instantly felt at home. Traditional NY garment district construction, mom and pop company...beautiful, functional, classic garment accessories. What more can one ask for? Other than world peace, of course.

Pierrepont Hicks.

www.pierreponthicks.com

1st Push

It's about time I stopped f**king the proverbial dog and actually posted something. So this won't be as eloquent or elongated as the three million drafts I've saved for the purposes of never editing them...ever. Maybe this is just what I need to get going.

This post starts with a bit of sadness. I've realized that at the age of twenty-four, things become less impressive. If I were making half a million a year and living in a loft overlooking the Hudson, that might be impressive. However what I'm doing is not, obviously speaking, impressive, and I'm a little down about that.

First off, I'm a filmmaker. A recent film studies graduate of the Emily Carr University of Art & Design, to be precise. I made a good grad film. Whether it's great or not depends on festival reactions etc., but I think it's good. One of the side-effects of a Canadian Education however, especially when crossed with a general sense of entitlement, is student debt. Luckily, mine's not a huge number, and as such, I can probably pay it off within a year after graduating.

Part of this ability to pay it off is owed to the fact that, through a variety of circumstances, I live in Denmark, a country with the highest minimum wage in the world.

As such, my work is brainless. I drive a tractor, cut grass, lifeguard, bartend, and basically do anything that gets me my 60 hours per week. If I can get 70 hours, then I'm really happy.

What might be impressive, is that where I work happens to be located in one of the more beautiful parts of Denmark. It's on the Limfjord, a lovely...fjord...that cuts right through northern Jutland. More impressive still, is that I just acquired accommodation for the summer that happens to be a 2 level waterfront home. I'm fixing it up, making it livable, and in the meantime, sailing, windsurfing...and writing.

I'll be posting different things...everything from fashion, to my thoughts on the future of techology and tourism...and generally speaking, anything that retains my attention for more than a couple of minutes.

I hope you enjoy what I write, and please, join in the discussion!

Places to Live

So in a Bourbon Stupor, I thought I'd jot down a list of the cities in which I'd like to spend some time, say a minimum of three months at a time, all before I die.

Well, maybe that's a morbid way of putting it. These are the cities I'd like to live in before I buy a/the farm. That sounds better.

Mexico City
Madrid
Paris
Copenhagen
Ljubljana
Rome
Toronto
Los Angeles
New York
Montreal
Austin
Buenos Aires
Santiago
London
Reykjavik

Cape Town
Bombay
Tokyo
Shanghai
Bamako
Minsk
Riga
Moscow
Noumea

Berlin
Wellington
Melbourne

Something I noticed after writing them all down, is the number of languages I'd have to learn in order to effectively communicate to the locals. But how amazing would that be? Imagine being able to read Sartre in French, or watch Garden of the Finzi Contini's in Italian, or begin to comprehend Shinto with a Japanese Monk, in Japanese!