10. The Dark Knight Rises

Sure, The Dark Knight Rises was brimming with plot holes. But the movie also worked on several levels, chief among them the ability to provide a fairly tight ending to what is – for now – the greatest superhero trilogy of all-time.

9. Lincoln

Lincoln feels like it was written for the stage, but Daniel-Day Lewis is so overwhelmingly convincing in the title role it tends to compensate for whatever shortcomings one might find in the screenplay.

8. The Central Park Five

In a year teeming with documentaries about wrongful conviction, this one takes the cake. And it does so because the stakes are so astoundingly high – a fact that seems to have led to the very unlawful incarceration of five teenage boys more than two decades prior.

7. Moonrise Kingdom

This is Wes Anderson’s most charming film. The palette alone is worth the price of admission. As an aside, I hope Universal builds an entire museum full of Wes Anderson set pieces some day.

6. Safety Not Guaranteed

No one ever expected Safety Not Guaranteed to be a fantastic movie. Therein lies its power.

5. Brooklyn Castle

This is the most uplifting documentary of 2012 – a feel-good film with a social conscience.

4. Skyfall

The best Bond film of all-time starring the best Bond of all-time – a stunning exclamation point upon this, the 50th anniversary of a franchise.

3. Arbitrage

Arbitrage is a phenomenal sleeper that succeeds on more levels than I could possibly delve into here. In fact, it’s a tragedy Arbitrage didn’t fare better at the box office. But it’s available on DVD now, and should be watched with all distractions cast aside. Richard Gere is aging remarkably well, and there’s even a quick cameo by Maria Bartiromo. Who could ask for anything more?

2. Zero Dark Thirty

This is the Osama Bin Laden movie we had every right to expect, only not until a good 10-15 years from now. To have constructed such a stunning examination of the hunt for Al Quaeda’s number one this soon after his assassination … well, the feat is as stunning as the film itself. Forget about the controversies. Films like Zero Dark Thirty are designed to court controversy. It’s a sure sign they’re doing their job. And this film does its job remarkably well.

1. Django Unchained

Django Unchained starts off slowly. But, man, oh, man, if this movie does not provide the perfect crescendo, unfurling in the form of an explosive climax that’ll stick with you for days to come. Leonardo DiCaprio takes a major risk here – a major risk any actor of his caliber does not really need to take, quite frankly. And yet, it pays off in spades. From the moment DiCaprio appears on screen, the intensity rises to a whole nother level. And it does not dare step back until well after the credits have rolled.

It’s difficult to put a finger on what it is about a Tarantino film that makes it so unique. The answer would require something more along the lines of a formal essay. Perhaps the best way to put it in perspective is to admit that If I was asked to put together a list of the top 10 movies of all-time, none of Tarantino’s films would appear on that list. That said, if I was asked to put together a list of the 200 greatest movies of all-time, at least four of Tarantino’s seven feature films would appear on that list. All of which is to imply that Quentin Tarantino has always been consistently great.

Vulgar. Violent. Bloody. Brash. Witty. Wild. Fantastic.

Long live the king.

Continue reading →

It’s been quite a time, wandering about town with my Canon PowerShot in tow, lo, these past 12 months. While the only camera I own may have jammed up like a cheap gun and run through AA batteries like thin juice through a straw, it also provided ample company on a dozen or more lonesome afternoons straight through last winter and back again.

What can I say about photography? Well, I suppose I could say that photography is a perfect excuse to get out of one’s own head, while simultaneously seeing the world from a whole different perspective. Over the course of the past 12 months, what I’d inevitably find was – more often than not – a running theme would present itself to me, based on the time, or season, or even some type of general vibe in the zeitgeist. The beautiful thing about seeing the world through a lens is it tends to magnify the point, breaking through reams of clutter to extract some hidden element at its core.

The best part about taking pics: I have absolutely no idea what the fuck it is I’m supposed to be doing out there, which is – of course – the most exhilarating aspect of any endeavor.

Here now, in that spirit, are 41 of the best images I’ve taken with my bad camera over the past year. I look forward to the prospect of sharper images with a slightly better camera in the weeks and months to come. That’s all for now. Over and out.

Bob Hill

(Click on any image for a full-page view.)  Continue reading →

(Good Pictures/Bad Camera is a regular feature on IFB.) 

By Bob Hill

Today is Saturday, December 3^rd, 1993. I am sitting alongside Meghan’s family in the Wildwood Catholic High School Auditorium. Meghan is sitting with her classmates in the front row.

“A reading from the Book of Ephesians,” a junior named Donna Dipaola declares. “Be completely humble and be gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called.”

A dramatic pause. The sound of an old man clearing his throat.

I walked to the auditorium this morning from an apartment I recently moved into one block west of here. I am subletting a room in that apartment from a couple who charge me $100 a month. Meghan’s older sister, Lauri, lives across the street from me. Lauri shares an apartment with her fiancé, John. John owns a sandwich shop in town.

Meghan’s Junior Ring Mass ends, prompting families to adjourn onto the high school lawn. I offer to take pictures as an excuse for not having to appear in any. Looking west along the block, I notice an ambulance and several police cars are pulling up in front of the apartment where Meghan’s older sister lives. Rather than alarm anyone, I keep this to myself.

Around noon, I accompany Meghan to her father’s house, where the answering machine is overrun with messages. “Something is happening over at Lauri’s apartment,” I hear someone saying on one message. “You should get in touch with Lauri’s fiancé,” I hear someone saying via another. Meghan’s father makes a few phone calls, and an initial report is confirmed. Meghan’s older sister has been pronounced dead by way of an indeterminate cause.

***

That evening, Meghan follows through with set plans to attend her junior ring dance. She wears an emerald dress with low-cut heels that match her eyes, and I wear a navy blazer with faux-gold buttons that jingle off the cuff. I maintain my distance throughout the evening, allowing Meghan ample room to socialize, or to be by herself. People offer warm wishes and regrets. Meghan and I only dance together once.

The ring dance ends. Meghan and I dig our coats out from a pile. Meghan leads me out through a back-door exit in the school cafeteria. We are wandering east now, toward the boardwalk. Once there, we sit on a bench and we talk.

“Maybe something good will come of this,” I say.

“Like what?” Meghan says. She pulls her collar tight.

“Like, I don’t know,” I say. “Like, maybe there’s an opportunity here, y’know? Like, maybe this is a chance for you and your mom to reconcile. I mean, I know things have been rough, and I know you say a lot of that is actually your mom’s fault. But what if you could just kind of take the first step, y’know? Like, be the bigger person. I imagine your mother’s got to be hurting right now. Maybe if you could just do something as simple as, say – ”

“STOP TELLING ME HOW TO DEAL WITH MY FAMILY!” Meghan howls.

Dueling echoes, wall to wall.

“You have no right,” Meghan continues. She lights a cigarette. “I mean, you don’t even talk to your parents, Bob … either of them. In fact, you run away from your parents every chance that you get. And now you’re gonna sit there and condescend to me about how I should work things out with my parents? Here? Tonight? On this night? I don’t think so.”

Meghan is crying.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Meghan. “Everything I just said was out of line.”

“I know it was,” Meghan tells me. She leans into me for warmth. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

And so we sit, and we smoke, and we listen to the ocean’s tide.

***

I arrive at Meghan’s father’s house for Lauri’s funeral the following Monday. I am wearing the same blazer I had worn to the dance. Meghan is still getting ready, so I take a seat in the living room. Lauri’s fiancé is sitting alone at a dining room table, approximately 15 feet to my right.

I ride with Meghan’s aunt to the Church of the Assumption. Once there, Meghan requests that I stand next to her in a receiving line. I spend two hours greeting mourners, the majority of whom have no idea who I am. The viewing is followed by a mass, during which a priest describes Lauri as a remarkable athlete. The mass includes responsorials, and it includes somebody reciting a poem by Lauri’s fiancé entitled “My Princess Is Gone Now.” The service is attended by more people than I can count.

The mass gives way to a procession, a nearby burial, and then a reception at the Peter Shields Inn in Cape May. I eat lunch in the main dining area, and then I go outside. It is Christmastime, and the B&Bs along Beach Avenue have each been decorated with ice-white lights and velvet bows. I cross the street; I cross the sand onto a jetty where I light a cigarette. The ocean seems so sedate throughout winter, as if unphased by the blistering cold. The sun hangs low, and the daylight’s fading. I finish my cigarette, and I hurry back into the inn.

I find Meghan. She is sitting beside her mother in an enclosed porch that overlooks the southern lawn.

“Are you almost ready?” Meghan says to me. She does not look up. Meghan is leafing through an old family album full of pictures of her with her sisters and her mother and her father, all of them existing as a single unit before the divorce.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I tell Meghan.

It is time to go home now.

Meghan says goodbye to her mother. Meghan’s mother remains seated on the porch.

Day 370

(Moving On is a regular feature on IFB)

©Copyright Bob Hill

1. The ability to tell a more effective story by maintaining a tight focus
2. Resisting the urge to exploit stock footage from September 11, 2001
3. Forcing the audience to consider more than one side of every argument
4. A 2 hr., 36 min. running time that doesn’t waste a single frame
5. Jessica Chastain
6. A screenplay which is largely based on first-hand accounts from government officials and military personnel
7. A prevalent stance that is pro-America, yet apolitical
8. A climactic sequence that makes the movie Seal Team Six look like it was constructed out of Legos
9. The ongoing knack to work as a procedural, a semi-reliable document, and an entertaining film
10. Kathryn Bigelow
11. The decision to include an uncompromising depiction of torture
12. Introducing the phrase “Tradecraft” into the pop culture lexicon
13. A final trailer that will do the same thing for “Nothing Else Matters” that The Social Network did for “Creep“
14. Jason Clarke
15. The inclusion of highly-sensitive – perhaps even classified – material
16. A cornucopia of double-agent super-spy-type shit
17. A diamond-tight storyline that is as fascinating as it is intense, and
18. The fact that Osama Bin Laden gets to die at the end.

(Zero Dark Thirty opens in limited release today, with a national rollout to follow on January 11.)  Continue reading →

“Songs carry emotional information and some transport us back to a poignant time, place, or event in our lives. It’s no wonder a corporation would want to hitch a ride on the spell these songs cast and encourage you to buy soft drinks, underwear, or automobiles while you’re in the trance. Artists who take money for ads poison and pervert their songs. It reduces them to the level of a jingle, a word that describes the sound of change in your pocket, which is what your songs become. Remember, when you sell your songs for commercials, you are selling your audience as well. When I was a kid, if I saw an artist I admired doing a commercial, I’d think, ‘Too bad, he must really need the money.’ But now it’s so pervasive. It’s a virus. Artists are lining up to do ads. The money and exposure are too tantalizing for most artists to decline. Corporations are hoping to hijack a culture’s memories for their product. They want an artist’s audience, credibility, good will and all the energy the songs have gathered as well as given over the years. They suck the life and meaning from the songs and impregnate them with promises of a better life with their product. Eventually, artists will be going onstage like race-car drivers covered in hundreds of logos. Stay pure. Your credibility, your integrity, and your honor are things no company should be able to buy.”

By Bob Hill

December 16, 2012 – One year to the day since I quit drinking. And so the question that now greets me, perhaps more often than any other: Do I regret cutting alcohol out of my life entirely?

Well, the answer is: Sometimes, sure. Particularly now, as we enter the stretch run that carries straight through until New Years. Once a week, I’ll wander past a corner bar late at night and imagine how nice it might be to just saunter in and nonchalantly ease my way into the groove. But it’s the romanticism – not the reality – of those moments that always seems to get me. And yet, it’s that very same romanticism that always seems to dissipate once I get another block or two removed. The night is forever young. And even on those rare occasions when it isn’t, the following morning I know I’ll wake up with fresh eyes and a clear skull.

Is it more difficult to meet people these days? Why, yes, it certainly is more difficult to meet people these days. But I have given up trying to force it. I’ve been there. I’ve done that … several times, in fact. With every conceivable return. When and if I have an opportunity to start dating again, I want it to be for all the right reasons. In the meantime, I can assure you I’m not banging down anybody’s door, in much the same way I can assure you there’s nobody banging down mine.

Social events, well, now, they’re a mixed bag. The first half of any outing is usually the more uncomfortable, what with everybody mingling and drinking and inquiring why it is that I am so obviously not. But once the event settles in, whatever awkward feelings I might’ve harbored just kind of vanish right into the air. At some point it’ll dawn on me the event is almost over, and rather than head home and drink myself straight through until the morning, I’ll more than likely go back and read a book, watch a movie, maybe even order a pizza. Who knows?

What it all boils down to is this: Life is a little bit different now. Not necessarily better or worse. Just different. And yet, on balance, I can tell you that I kind of prefer it this way. Nowadays, I am doing a much better job of closing the considerable distance between the asshole I once was and the semi-admirable person that I might still have an opportunity to become.

In that spirit, here now is a quick list of some of the extreme highs and lows that came to pass, lo, these past several months:

High Points:

• Scaling the southeast face of the Beehive in Acadia National Park
• Running 26.2 miles (unofficially, and on my own)
• This website (particularly the Moving On section of it)
• Taking my first (working) vacation in six years
• Putting my court-ordered community service behind me
• Curbing my general level of anxiety
• Finally getting to see the Barnes Collection in Philadelphia

Low Points:

• Losing my full-time job of 11 years
• Being selected for an IRS audit
• Paying nearly $6,000 in court costs, legal fees, travel expenses, and fines related to my 2011 arrest for public drunkenness
• Being placed on probation, and
• Eating a pair of tickets for the Broadway show Once (due to illness).

Recurring Dream: On at least a dozen occasions during the past year, I have dreamt that I am drunk. This is usually the result of either forgetting my pledge not to drink (in the dream), or having someone spike a dream drink without my dream knowledge. In either case, the dream episode generally throws me into a state of dream anger, or dream sadness, or dream both.

What might be cool in the year ahead: Mountain climbing. Hiking. Traveling. Learning more about photography. Having my work appear in a new publication. Pursuing an opportunity to do some public readings. Entering a contest. Winning an award. Increasing my web traffic. Visiting more museums/exhibits. Improving my chess game. Studying poker. Strumming my guitar. Meeting a girl. Getting better at pool. Getting better at poker. Writing something that either connects with people or has a social impact. Doing charitable work. Learning more about meditation. Seeing half a dozen new bands/artists. Investing in something. Mining the work of great writers. Body surfing. Studying some form of Martial Arts. Visiting Cambridge. Improving my diet. Learning to cook a new dish. Decreasing my student loan debt.

The final analysis: Onward. Upward.

Day 365

(Moving On is a regular feature on IFB)

©Copyright Bob Hill

Choose your battles wisely. This is sage advice for show runners and politicians alike. And it certainly would have served Peter Jackson well when deciding what footage to fight for in order to justify The Hobbit‘s sprawling two-hour and 49-minute running time – the first hour of which is completely hunkered down with unnecessary details and back story and set up and speeches and singing and intros and drinking of mead.

Part of this is due to Jackson’s semi-admirable attempt to remain true to J.R.R. Tolkien’s original source material. While The Hobbit is easily the most charming and lovable of Tolkien’s novels, Jackson’s film sacrifices a considerable amount of gusto by not making more of an effort to simply speed matters along.

During its second hour, The Hobbit falls into a recurring pattern of brief action sequences, sandwiched between much longer monologues, each one of them accompanied by the very same ominous music and tone … so repetitively, in fact, that about midway through the cycle almost becomes laughable.

In terms of scale, The Hobbit is both majestic and sweeping, much like every previous installment from The Lord of the Rings franchise. And yet, this prequel doesn’t feel nearly as potent or well-oiled as those other films did. While it certainly made sense to break The Hobbit down into three separate parts, Peter Jackson could’ve served his audience – and Tolkien’s story – more constructively by paring this first film down into a much tighter 2-hour and 10-minute spectacle.

(The Hobbit opens in theaters nationwide today.)  Continue reading →

OK. So there’s this, like, couple, right? Well, it’s actually more like two couples. And they’re all, like, best friends, y’know? Well, it’s more like the two guys are best friends and the two girls are, like, sisters, but you get the picture. Anyway, the one couple is, like, totally engaged, and the other couple … well, like, the guy is, like, soooooooo completely in love with the girl he’s, like, already bought the ring and what not. And the girl, well, she’s like totally into him too. I mean, it’s like the two of them can, like, totally talk about their farts and what not, and it’s like no big thing. And yet she’s still not quite there in terms of, like, making a lifelong commitment, y’know? And, oh yeah – I almost forgot – the chick? She, like, totally works at this little indie bookstore. In fact, she’s, like, so indie bookstore that these guys actually refer to her as “Bookstore Girl”. Bookstore girl? I mean, can you even imagine? Meanwhile, the other couple? They’re like planning this, like, TOTAL hipster wedding with organic catering and music by iPod, and the invites are like completely DIY and what not. And, oh yeah, the two sisters, they’re, like, always saying “Really?” back and forth in time. Like, like, like, Really? Really? Really? Really. And the two guys, they’re in a band together, see? And, like, all four of them regularly insert necessary plot points into everyday conversation like it’s no big thing, y’know? And the four of them, they’re, like, all super-dry. Like, like, like dripping-with-sarcasm super-dry, OK? And so, like, one night toward the end of this totally killer gig, the lead singer of the band – a band named Wolfbird, BTdubs – well, anyway, he, like, totally decides to just go ahead and propose to the other sister right there and then, in front of like, a million people. And you, like, won’t even guess what happens next, but …

Exhausted? Me too. Anyway, that just about sums up what the first 40 minutes of Save the Date feels like. Somewhere during the second hour, the film actually manages to settle into its pace, adding some worthwhile charm and magnetism to the mix. What’s more? Save the Date also manages to get a lot of stuff right down the stretch. But it puts the audience through stiff rigors in order to get where it’s going. And, in the final analysis, the ends simply do not justify the means.

Bottom line: Save the Date is perfect for anyone out there who simply could not get enough of Celeste and Jesse Forever. Otherwise, well, you get the idea.

(Save The Date opens in limited release in NY and LA this Friday. It is also available now via OnDemand.)  Continue reading →

“When you’re climbing well the fear is not there. You’re doing something that you know you can do, something that should pose you no apparent difficulties. Yes, there are moments when you question yourself, moments when you have to pull yourself together. Doubts can creep in anywhere, but you can also stop and pause and recover yourself. That’s a normal part of climbing. Climbing is a process that requires you to constantly make the move, to travel upwards. It’s different than other gravity-assisted sports like snowboarding or skydiving. With those the impulse to stop is removed by the speed of your descent. With climbing it’s a process that requires you to constantly make the move, to travel upwards. Climbing requires a deeper commitment. Contrary to popular belief, there isn’t really a point of no return. Most ascents can be descended. There isn’t a point when you have to keep on going no matter what. You can always retrace your steps. It is just that downward climbing isn’t something that I usually do.”