Tretakoff Musings
Saturday, June 28, 2008
What Makes A 4 Star Hotel?
My recent trip took me to a 4 star hotel, the Westin, in Chicago. Thanks to Priceline and William Shatner, I was able to stay here for about the price of a 2 star hotel. I am often amused at the little touches that the hotel uses to distinguish themselves, catering to their expected clientele.
For instance, the shower. I have seen hotels tout the quality of their showers, and, specifically, their showerheads. Some actually offer them for sale. The water pressure, the rainfall, the "oxygenation"...the list goes on and on. Imagine my amusement at what greeted me at the Westin:
Yup, if one is good, two must be better, right? Truth to be told, it was a good shower, but the sheer audacity of it practically brought me to hilarity.
But the coup de grace was the in-room coffeemaker. Yes, you know this one. You wake up, want a cup, and stumble over to the scaled-down, no frills Mr. Coffee lookalike to pop in a pod of Maxwell House that is inevitably too cold or too bitter. But a 4 star like the Westin? Oh, no...
Note the details here. First, the coffeemaker is shaped and chromed like an expensive espresso dispenser. Second, no piddly Folgers here: we're talking top-shelf Starbucks. Finally, the cups: no poor porcelain cousins to be found, only a perfect facsimile of the classic white Starbucks cup...complete with paper sleeve to insulate your hands from the normally hot temperatures. Ideal for the business traveler who heads to the elevator without the embarrassment of actually showing they are drinking from that in-room poor excuse of a caffeine dispenser.
The Westin knows their clientele, and clearly went for broke. Of course, the following morning in my La Quinta cinderblock cell, as I sipped from the Maxwell House pot of lukewarm joe, I was yearning for my Starbucks....but wasn't that the point? ;-)
For instance, the shower. I have seen hotels tout the quality of their showers, and, specifically, their showerheads. Some actually offer them for sale. The water pressure, the rainfall, the "oxygenation"...the list goes on and on. Imagine my amusement at what greeted me at the Westin:
Yup, if one is good, two must be better, right? Truth to be told, it was a good shower, but the sheer audacity of it practically brought me to hilarity.But the coup de grace was the in-room coffeemaker. Yes, you know this one. You wake up, want a cup, and stumble over to the scaled-down, no frills Mr. Coffee lookalike to pop in a pod of Maxwell House that is inevitably too cold or too bitter. But a 4 star like the Westin? Oh, no...
Note the details here. First, the coffeemaker is shaped and chromed like an expensive espresso dispenser. Second, no piddly Folgers here: we're talking top-shelf Starbucks. Finally, the cups: no poor porcelain cousins to be found, only a perfect facsimile of the classic white Starbucks cup...complete with paper sleeve to insulate your hands from the normally hot temperatures. Ideal for the business traveler who heads to the elevator without the embarrassment of actually showing they are drinking from that in-room poor excuse of a caffeine dispenser.The Westin knows their clientele, and clearly went for broke. Of course, the following morning in my La Quinta cinderblock cell, as I sipped from the Maxwell House pot of lukewarm joe, I was yearning for my Starbucks....but wasn't that the point? ;-)
Doing The Right Thing
I often use this space to vent about companies that simply don't get it. Every so often, however, there is one that not only gets it, they get it better than I do. Let me tell you about one: eBags.
Don't know eBags? They are just what they sound like: a website solely devoted to selling luggage. Once thought of as a punchline to the great dotcom boom, like Pets.com, they were a highly specialized site selling only one thing at inexpensive prices. Unlike Amazon, who was able to make this model succeed with books and music for their low price points, eBags was widely assumed to be a flash in the pan that would die with the rest of the overspecialized e-commerce sites that were overly rife at the turn of the century. But, led by a dynamic CEO, and a savvy marketing strategy, they not only survived but thrived.
In recent years, they have augmented the hundreds of brands of bags they sell with their own. Imagine a team of people, only focused on selling bags, putting together pieces that incorporated the very best of what they saw from others, and augmenting it with features that most did not. Add quality construction, and relatively low prices, and they were a hit. From carry-ons, to rollaboards, to laptop cases, their products were very appealing to business travelers like me. So much so, I bought one of their laptop bags, the Firewall, 3 years ago for my regular laptop bag, and have never been happier.
A few months ago, I noticed the handle was tearing away. I thought I'd replace the bag with a rolling one, but just couldn't justify spending the $. I was looking for a replacement on their site, and compared it to my Firewall, when I noticed one of the selling points of eBags manufactured bags: a lifetime warranty. I clicked on their Chat link, and started conversing with a helpful rep. He asked me for some details, found my order, and let me know someone would be in touch.
Two days later, I got an email: a new Firewall briefcase was being shipped to me.
Period.
No questions. No demand to get the old bag back. No requests for photos of the damage. No requirement for me to pay a shipping charge. Nothing. Just a new case, no questions asked. Folks, THIS is a warranty. And this is a company that stands behind their product.
If I had any quibbles, they would be these:
- They never actually contacted me after the chat, simply sent me the new bag. Might have been nice to know that was their proposed solution, instead of silence for two days.
- I had been signed into their site; they could have seen I was browsing for a rolling bag. They missed a golden opportunity to upsell me: offering to give me a choice on a new bag, or credit for the full amount towards another eBags bag. I would have actually taken them up on the latter offer.
These small quibbles aside, I can't say enough about a company that not only knows what their customers expects, but cuts to the chase in delivering on their promise. I should disclose that I have done business professionally with eBags at three different companies, and that I have met their CEO a few times and been impressed every time. But unless that information was somehow in my account and they were able to decide in some special way that was the case and treat me differently, I expect this is how they treat every purchaser of their products. Compare that to the supposedly great customer service of Amazon (blech), or the darling Web 2.0 companies with their social network hooks.
They not only got it right, they got it right the first time, and more right than I ever expected.
I often use this space to vent about companies that simply don't get it. Every so often, however, there is one that not only gets it, they get it better than I do. Let me tell you about one: eBags.Don't know eBags? They are just what they sound like: a website solely devoted to selling luggage. Once thought of as a punchline to the great dotcom boom, like Pets.com, they were a highly specialized site selling only one thing at inexpensive prices. Unlike Amazon, who was able to make this model succeed with books and music for their low price points, eBags was widely assumed to be a flash in the pan that would die with the rest of the overspecialized e-commerce sites that were overly rife at the turn of the century. But, led by a dynamic CEO, and a savvy marketing strategy, they not only survived but thrived.
In recent years, they have augmented the hundreds of brands of bags they sell with their own. Imagine a team of people, only focused on selling bags, putting together pieces that incorporated the very best of what they saw from others, and augmenting it with features that most did not. Add quality construction, and relatively low prices, and they were a hit. From carry-ons, to rollaboards, to laptop cases, their products were very appealing to business travelers like me. So much so, I bought one of their laptop bags, the Firewall, 3 years ago for my regular laptop bag, and have never been happier.A few months ago, I noticed the handle was tearing away. I thought I'd replace the bag with a rolling one, but just couldn't justify spending the $. I was looking for a replacement on their site, and compared it to my Firewall, when I noticed one of the selling points of eBags manufactured bags: a lifetime warranty. I clicked on their Chat link, and started conversing with a helpful rep. He asked me for some details, found my order, and let me know someone would be in touch.
Two days later, I got an email: a new Firewall briefcase was being shipped to me.
Period.
No questions. No demand to get the old bag back. No requests for photos of the damage. No requirement for me to pay a shipping charge. Nothing. Just a new case, no questions asked. Folks, THIS is a warranty. And this is a company that stands behind their product.
If I had any quibbles, they would be these:
- They never actually contacted me after the chat, simply sent me the new bag. Might have been nice to know that was their proposed solution, instead of silence for two days.
- I had been signed into their site; they could have seen I was browsing for a rolling bag. They missed a golden opportunity to upsell me: offering to give me a choice on a new bag, or credit for the full amount towards another eBags bag. I would have actually taken them up on the latter offer.
These small quibbles aside, I can't say enough about a company that not only knows what their customers expects, but cuts to the chase in delivering on their promise. I should disclose that I have done business professionally with eBags at three different companies, and that I have met their CEO a few times and been impressed every time. But unless that information was somehow in my account and they were able to decide in some special way that was the case and treat me differently, I expect this is how they treat every purchaser of their products. Compare that to the supposedly great customer service of Amazon (blech), or the darling Web 2.0 companies with their social network hooks.
They not only got it right, they got it right the first time, and more right than I ever expected.
Labels: business
Only in Marin
calamari, only in Marin do you also get dim sum.
calamari, only in Marin do you also get dim sum.
Labels: photos
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Paperless Apple Stores
Great experience at my local Apple Store last night. I had to get some accessories for my iPhone, so I picked up my item, and headed to the cashwrap/Genius Bar. An intelligent employee saw my purposeful stride, and stepped out from behind the counter to ask if I was all set; I said yes, and he whipped out his PDA, accepted my card, scanned the barcode of my item, and we were all set.
This experience is not new; Apple has intelligently deployed these mobile checkout units for some time now. What happened next was a delight: the employee handed me my card back, and asked if I would prefer a printed receipt, or would I like it emailed to me? I happily replied that email was preferable, and he looked at his screen. "Well, looks like we don't have your email address on file; if you give it to me, I'll make sure we can send this and all future receipts to you." I did, and he associated it with the credit card I used. Within moments, my receipt appeared as a PDF attachment to an email in my inbox. Wow.
Why is this so great? First, you all know my particular hatred for the antiquated reliance on paper receipts. Second, I use Google Apps for Domain for my email; that means this receipt is now searchable in Gmail. If I ever need it, instead of groping around piles of yellowing paper, or trying to look through thousands of scanned images, I can just use Gmail to look for the very thing I want, and find my receipt in a second. Not to mention it finally brings physical retail to the level of convenience of ecommerce.
Another great innovation in Apple Retail. Well done, Cupertino.
Great experience at my local Apple Store last night. I had to get some accessories for my iPhone, so I picked up my item, and headed to the cashwrap/Genius Bar. An intelligent employee saw my purposeful stride, and stepped out from behind the counter to ask if I was all set; I said yes, and he whipped out his PDA, accepted my card, scanned the barcode of my item, and we were all set. This experience is not new; Apple has intelligently deployed these mobile checkout units for some time now. What happened next was a delight: the employee handed me my card back, and asked if I would prefer a printed receipt, or would I like it emailed to me? I happily replied that email was preferable, and he looked at his screen. "Well, looks like we don't have your email address on file; if you give it to me, I'll make sure we can send this and all future receipts to you." I did, and he associated it with the credit card I used. Within moments, my receipt appeared as a PDF attachment to an email in my inbox. Wow.
Why is this so great? First, you all know my particular hatred for the antiquated reliance on paper receipts. Second, I use Google Apps for Domain for my email; that means this receipt is now searchable in Gmail. If I ever need it, instead of groping around piles of yellowing paper, or trying to look through thousands of scanned images, I can just use Gmail to look for the very thing I want, and find my receipt in a second. Not to mention it finally brings physical retail to the level of convenience of ecommerce.
Another great innovation in Apple Retail. Well done, Cupertino.
Running Out Of Gas
Years ago, a fledgling cable network, The Discovery Channel, was desperate to draw viewers. Their traditional focus of science-based programming was only getting the PBS-crowd, and not even as many, so they expanded their breadth by moving into the occasional documentary. In one, they followed a father and son in upstate New York who were making a family go of building custom motorcycles. The documentary focused on the mix of combustible personalities, how hard it was for family to work together, but how they overcame differences and leveraged their individual strengths to produce a uniquely American piece of craftsmanship. It was a hit, and the network jumped on it, turning the profile into a full series, American Chopper.
What made the series work in the early years were the absolutely climactic battles between Paul Jr., who's innovative designs and creative focus were breathtaking, and Paul Sr., who overcame personal demons to forge a business, but longed to marry his metalworking talent with his joy of motorcycles. The results were amazing bikes: pieces of art, in a forged iron power. The bikes continued to be amazing, and quickly overtook the show as the prime focus. We followed the family as they moved from the basement of their house to a workshop, then a larger one, and larger, and larger, and their talents became even more in demand. The staff grew and grew, and the characters became even more refined. The show was easily the most popular on basic cable, so much so that Discovery recently moved it to their sister network, TLC, to help draw viewers there, as Discovery has now grown to be a staple of cable entertainment.
Take a look at some of the early bikes:
Arguably Orange County Chopper's signature bike, this Firebike was built as a tribute to the firemen in 9/11. The details were stunning: specially machined parts to resemble a fireman's air tank and a hydrant; actual rivets from the World Trade Center; a fuel tank that evokes the classic fire engine. It was a celebration of creativity, tribute, and memorial, all in one.
The Comanche bike, designed to evoke a motorcycle version of the military's Comanche attack helicopter. Note the specially machined wheels as helicopter blade, the unique shape of the tank to match the canopy, and the all-business design that screams military.
Built for the Caterpillar corporation, this bike expresses the very best Paul Jr. can design for a corporate client. It uses all of the signature Cat lines, adds a powerful touch, and accents it with little elements, like the special exhaust with the flapper on top.
In short, these bikes were, and remain, massively talented expressions of creativity. You can see all of the ones in the show's history at their site, and many are brought on tour or on display in their gift shop. Yes, they have now grown so popular and so large, that they not only operate their own production line of bikes, but a massive retail emporium to celebrate their now-familiar iconic logo. They have worked so hard, and have been rewarded by a growing fan base and extraordinary popularity.
It is, therefore, so sad to see this talent start to run out. As the money and fame has crept in, it's been clear that the company's signature custom bikes have been...well, uninspired. I know, it's easy to criticize, and I could hardly do any of the work they routinely undertake, but the general malaise in the designs over the last year has been disheartening. It came to a head for me tonight, with the viewing of the show on the New York Giants tribute bike.
You see, Paul Jr. has felt frustrated in his creative process by the review cycles of corporate clients. As they open up their new world HQ, Paul Sr. gets the OK by the NFL's New York Giants to create a tribute bike. Unlike the recent corporate bikes, Paul Jr. has total creative control here, and the bike will not need to be road-legal. Instead, he gets to fire up those creative juices to design a kick-ass bike for his favorite team, and celebrate their recent championship.
This was the result, unveiled to great fanfare with a panoply of fans and Giants, at their new OCC megaplex. And I was never so sad for them. This bike represents how far from creative grace they have fallen. Remember, there were no rules, no restrictions imposed, and this was intentionally built as a showpiece bike. You're probably shaking your head, wondering what my problem is: after all, it's a cool Giants bike, right? I mean, look at the cool goalposts on the back; the football headlight. And you can't even see the gas tank that becomes a football helmet. It screams Giants, no?
No.
Want proof? Ok, take a good look at that bike. Got it?
Now picture it in the silver and blue of my own Dallas Cowboys. Or the red and gold of the San Francisco 49ers. Or, horror of horrors, picture even the same colors you see, but it branded as the upstart Houston Texans. See what I mean? There is absolutely nothing in the design of this bike that makes it a New York Giants bike. Nothing.
We're talking about a team that has three Superbowl trophies; a team with 20 Hall of Fame players like Lawrence Taylor, Y.A. Tittle, and Frank Gifford. This is, in short, a team that does not lack for uniquely iconic pieces of history. And absolutely none of it is in this bike. In the show, we learned Paul Jr. wanted to manufacture some risers for the handlebars; why not make them resemble the three Vince Lombardi trophies of their Superbowls? The goalposts are a nice touch; you couldn't get the Giants to perhaps help you locate some of the actual metal from previous goalposts from the stadium? Even a simple act of carving into the rear fender some of the key inspirational expressions the team rallied around in this year's improbable championship run would lend a sense of permanence and personality to this bike.
It's sad to see a great musician try to recapture the hits of youth on stage. It's depressing to see a great filmmaker try to make a sequel to an earlier blockbuster (ahem...Indiana Jones?). It is clearly as sad for me to see such an incredible talent, so vividly demonstrated for a national audience, being either squandered or lost. But what made it worse to me was when I started this blog post. I had been thinking that this chopper could be easily repainted for any team you want. In fact, I argue that, had the episode that introduced this chopper been presented as a new limited-production model for their new production line of bikes, I would have been very impressed. But both Teutels (Paul Jr. and Paul Sr.) made a point of saying this was allowing them to take the gloves off, to get fired up, and to deliver a project they had the passion for. So I headed over to their site to get some graphics for this post. And I found this:
Yep, OCC does precisely this for both the NBA and the NHL. Want your favorite team? No problem; they can make it in a jiffy.
Please, don't get me wrong: I do not begrudge these men the rewards they justly deserve for their hard work. But not only to be so disappointed with the efforts for a "custom" chopper for a team they supposedly have an emotional bond with, but to find out that the whole bike may well have been a proof of concept for a sales pitch to the NFL to let OCC expand to their roster of teams, as well...that's just plain exploitative. So, my choices are to judge their motives pure and their creative skills vastly waning, or their motives more commercial and their treatment of the viewer/fan as callous. The lesser of two pains, indeed.
Years ago, a fledgling cable network, The Discovery Channel, was desperate to draw viewers. Their traditional focus of science-based programming was only getting the PBS-crowd, and not even as many, so they expanded their breadth by moving into the occasional documentary. In one, they followed a father and son in upstate New York who were making a family go of building custom motorcycles. The documentary focused on the mix of combustible personalities, how hard it was for family to work together, but how they overcame differences and leveraged their individual strengths to produce a uniquely American piece of craftsmanship. It was a hit, and the network jumped on it, turning the profile into a full series, American Chopper.What made the series work in the early years were the absolutely climactic battles between Paul Jr., who's innovative designs and creative focus were breathtaking, and Paul Sr., who overcame personal demons to forge a business, but longed to marry his metalworking talent with his joy of motorcycles. The results were amazing bikes: pieces of art, in a forged iron power. The bikes continued to be amazing, and quickly overtook the show as the prime focus. We followed the family as they moved from the basement of their house to a workshop, then a larger one, and larger, and larger, and their talents became even more in demand. The staff grew and grew, and the characters became even more refined. The show was easily the most popular on basic cable, so much so that Discovery recently moved it to their sister network, TLC, to help draw viewers there, as Discovery has now grown to be a staple of cable entertainment.
Take a look at some of the early bikes:
Arguably Orange County Chopper's signature bike, this Firebike was built as a tribute to the firemen in 9/11. The details were stunning: specially machined parts to resemble a fireman's air tank and a hydrant; actual rivets from the World Trade Center; a fuel tank that evokes the classic fire engine. It was a celebration of creativity, tribute, and memorial, all in one.The Comanche bike, designed to evoke a motorcycle version of the military's Comanche attack helicopter. Note the specially machined wheels as helicopter blade, the unique shape of the tank to match the canopy, and the all-business design that screams military.Built for the Caterpillar corporation, this bike expresses the very best Paul Jr. can design for a corporate client. It uses all of the signature Cat lines, adds a powerful touch, and accents it with little elements, like the special exhaust with the flapper on top.In short, these bikes were, and remain, massively talented expressions of creativity. You can see all of the ones in the show's history at their site, and many are brought on tour or on display in their gift shop. Yes, they have now grown so popular and so large, that they not only operate their own production line of bikes, but a massive retail emporium to celebrate their now-familiar iconic logo. They have worked so hard, and have been rewarded by a growing fan base and extraordinary popularity.
It is, therefore, so sad to see this talent start to run out. As the money and fame has crept in, it's been clear that the company's signature custom bikes have been...well, uninspired. I know, it's easy to criticize, and I could hardly do any of the work they routinely undertake, but the general malaise in the designs over the last year has been disheartening. It came to a head for me tonight, with the viewing of the show on the New York Giants tribute bike.
You see, Paul Jr. has felt frustrated in his creative process by the review cycles of corporate clients. As they open up their new world HQ, Paul Sr. gets the OK by the NFL's New York Giants to create a tribute bike. Unlike the recent corporate bikes, Paul Jr. has total creative control here, and the bike will not need to be road-legal. Instead, he gets to fire up those creative juices to design a kick-ass bike for his favorite team, and celebrate their recent championship.
This was the result, unveiled to great fanfare with a panoply of fans and Giants, at their new OCC megaplex. And I was never so sad for them. This bike represents how far from creative grace they have fallen. Remember, there were no rules, no restrictions imposed, and this was intentionally built as a showpiece bike. You're probably shaking your head, wondering what my problem is: after all, it's a cool Giants bike, right? I mean, look at the cool goalposts on the back; the football headlight. And you can't even see the gas tank that becomes a football helmet. It screams Giants, no?No.
Want proof? Ok, take a good look at that bike. Got it?
Now picture it in the silver and blue of my own Dallas Cowboys. Or the red and gold of the San Francisco 49ers. Or, horror of horrors, picture even the same colors you see, but it branded as the upstart Houston Texans. See what I mean? There is absolutely nothing in the design of this bike that makes it a New York Giants bike. Nothing.
We're talking about a team that has three Superbowl trophies; a team with 20 Hall of Fame players like Lawrence Taylor, Y.A. Tittle, and Frank Gifford. This is, in short, a team that does not lack for uniquely iconic pieces of history. And absolutely none of it is in this bike. In the show, we learned Paul Jr. wanted to manufacture some risers for the handlebars; why not make them resemble the three Vince Lombardi trophies of their Superbowls? The goalposts are a nice touch; you couldn't get the Giants to perhaps help you locate some of the actual metal from previous goalposts from the stadium? Even a simple act of carving into the rear fender some of the key inspirational expressions the team rallied around in this year's improbable championship run would lend a sense of permanence and personality to this bike.
It's sad to see a great musician try to recapture the hits of youth on stage. It's depressing to see a great filmmaker try to make a sequel to an earlier blockbuster (ahem...Indiana Jones?). It is clearly as sad for me to see such an incredible talent, so vividly demonstrated for a national audience, being either squandered or lost. But what made it worse to me was when I started this blog post. I had been thinking that this chopper could be easily repainted for any team you want. In fact, I argue that, had the episode that introduced this chopper been presented as a new limited-production model for their new production line of bikes, I would have been very impressed. But both Teutels (Paul Jr. and Paul Sr.) made a point of saying this was allowing them to take the gloves off, to get fired up, and to deliver a project they had the passion for. So I headed over to their site to get some graphics for this post. And I found this:
Yep, OCC does precisely this for both the NBA and the NHL. Want your favorite team? No problem; they can make it in a jiffy. Please, don't get me wrong: I do not begrudge these men the rewards they justly deserve for their hard work. But not only to be so disappointed with the efforts for a "custom" chopper for a team they supposedly have an emotional bond with, but to find out that the whole bike may well have been a proof of concept for a sales pitch to the NFL to let OCC expand to their roster of teams, as well...that's just plain exploitative. So, my choices are to judge their motives pure and their creative skills vastly waning, or their motives more commercial and their treatment of the viewer/fan as callous. The lesser of two pains, indeed.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Make Your Own Ad
Slate V, the video version of Slate Magazine, has a remarkable profile of Spot Runner, a site that allows you to make personalized television ads for $500. Using a mixture of stock video clips and professional voiceovers, you can easily produce ads designed to evoke just what you are looking to convey, complete with professional messaging. Want to get elected? Choose one of the political ads: from attack ads to messages of hope and change.
The disturbing part of this is just how generic the ad space has become for these specific issues, and how this "cut and paste" approach can now be so effective in today's market. Think of the great Apple ads (Think Different, 1984), or the classic political ads (Daisy, A Man From Hope): these are all replaced with these slick, professional and utterly effective ads that any candidate can run. No ad agencies, no creative: choose your theme, add some details, and enter your credit card.
It's either a brave new world, or a sure sign of the apocalypse. Let the viewer decide: see the Slate V piece for yourself, and remember: This November, It's About Change.
Slate V, the video version of Slate Magazine, has a remarkable profile of Spot Runner, a site that allows you to make personalized television ads for $500. Using a mixture of stock video clips and professional voiceovers, you can easily produce ads designed to evoke just what you are looking to convey, complete with professional messaging. Want to get elected? Choose one of the political ads: from attack ads to messages of hope and change.The disturbing part of this is just how generic the ad space has become for these specific issues, and how this "cut and paste" approach can now be so effective in today's market. Think of the great Apple ads (Think Different, 1984), or the classic political ads (Daisy, A Man From Hope): these are all replaced with these slick, professional and utterly effective ads that any candidate can run. No ad agencies, no creative: choose your theme, add some details, and enter your credit card.
It's either a brave new world, or a sure sign of the apocalypse. Let the viewer decide: see the Slate V piece for yourself, and remember: This November, It's About Change.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
NBA Championship Joy: courtesy of JetBlue
Tonight, the Boston Celtics won their 17th championship, after 22 years since the last time a banner was hoisted to the Garden rafters. And, for the first time in about 17 of those years, I actually watched it happen, and it's all thanks to JetBlue.
Let me explain. First, some history: I grew up in Boston. The Celtics were my first sports love. I had (and still have) no interest in baseball, so the Red Sox were worthless to me. The Bruins were fun, but only in person, and it was clear after Bobby Orr retired, there was hardly any joy in the game. The Patriots? Well, they were always bums (except for Steve Grogan), so not much joy there. But like so many sons, it was my father that brought me the joy of the first team to follow. He huddled around a 9" black and white TV, every game, screaming at the Celtics like a coach. As a young boy, he taught me what to look for, what to watch. In short, I was hooked.
Later, as a young man, I watched the great Larry Bird era start. As I grew, divine convergence occurred, and the Celtics general manager became a customer of mine. I gave him heads-up on the newest and greatest gadgets; he rewarded me with tickets. In three seasons, I lived two blocks from the venerable Garden, and saw maybe 10 games a month, thanks to this, many behind the Celtics bench. I was there for the classic "Pigeon Game," where the bird inexplicably landed at halfcourt, urging the team to victory. I saw Laimbeer and Parish tangle, and Rambis and McHale battle on the boards. I saw David Thirdkill, Conner Henry, and Bill Walton. And, in 1986, I saw what is arguably the greatest NBA team of all time dominate the season and win the Sweet 16th banner.
Over the next few years, the Big Three retired. Lenny Bias overdosed, Reggie Lewis had a heart attack, and Red Auerbach faded away. And the game changed: Michael Jordan created the individual highlight player and the team game went out of style. The game became a preening, thug-like mockery of itself. By the time Jordan won his last title, I was done with the NBA. And so it remained, for many years. I tried from time to time to get into it, but the game was simply not the same. I had moved on to my beloved Cowboys and football, and forgot all about the Celtics.
In the last month, I have been traveling quite a bit. I fly JetBlue whenever I can, for reasons I have blogged about repeatedly. About a month ago, I had a cross-country flight. I considered catching up on email, or firing up the iPhone for a video, but I flipped through JetBlue's DirecTV connection, and saw a Celtics playoff game was about to start. What the hell, I thought. After all, I had a 6+ hour flight; why not? I had heard the Celtics had imported a whole new team of all stars this season, so it might be interesting. I tuned in, and was pleasantly surprised: this was a team game again! Even better, the game had changed: big men were shooting three pointers; superstars were more interested in passing that highlight reel shots; rookies playing like veterans. It was a delight, and the game was close, as the Celtics won a Game 5 after an incredible deficit. I was hooked.
As the Finals began, I convinced myself that this was a JetBlue phenomenon. I knew, as the made-for-TV rematch of the Celtics and Lakers began, that the Celtics were destined for a loss. They were a new team, with a bad coach, and that they would quickly revert when faced with the modern day solo acts of Kobe Bryant and Pau Gasol. Word came that Game 1 was the Celtics', and I began to hope again. Game 2, I was transfixed: facing the largest playoff deficit in history, just as I flicked on the TV, the Celtics came back to win back to back in Boston. Could it be? Did I dare to hope?
Tonight's Game 6 win culminated the rediscovered love of basketball for me. After tonight's win, capping their championship, the babbling sideline reporter went to the emotional heart of the team, Kevin Garnett, and attempted to stick a microphone in his face. Instead of the usual blather about thanking his teammates, and the other team, he cried. He struggled to find the words. Finally, without warning, he raised up, spread his arms wide, and screamed an unbridled expression of satisfaction and joy. And I was brought to tears by a sport in a way I had not been for nearly two decades.
These were men who had all been superstars on teams that had never seen success, brought together in a last chance for greatness. They were warriors who played not for the shoe contracts, or the commercials, but for the game. They were men who all took a chance: they joined a team that was absolutely the league-worst last year, and all joined for a desperate grasp at greatness...and did just that.
So tonight, I smoke a celebratory Red Auerbach cigar, not for the Celtics, not for JetBlue, but for the rekindling of a joy I had long forgot...and for the players who reminded me that there is still greatness in competition, faith, teamwork, and joy. No, it's not the Big Three; no, the Garden is no longer standing; no, this is not always going to be the case. But for tonight, the Celtics have won a championship again...and won my basketball heart once again.
Tonight, the Boston Celtics won their 17th championship, after 22 years since the last time a banner was hoisted to the Garden rafters. And, for the first time in about 17 of those years, I actually watched it happen, and it's all thanks to JetBlue. Let me explain. First, some history: I grew up in Boston. The Celtics were my first sports love. I had (and still have) no interest in baseball, so the Red Sox were worthless to me. The Bruins were fun, but only in person, and it was clear after Bobby Orr retired, there was hardly any joy in the game. The Patriots? Well, they were always bums (except for Steve Grogan), so not much joy there. But like so many sons, it was my father that brought me the joy of the first team to follow. He huddled around a 9" black and white TV, every game, screaming at the Celtics like a coach. As a young boy, he taught me what to look for, what to watch. In short, I was hooked.
Later, as a young man, I watched the great Larry Bird era start. As I grew, divine convergence occurred, and the Celtics general manager became a customer of mine. I gave him heads-up on the newest and greatest gadgets; he rewarded me with tickets. In three seasons, I lived two blocks from the venerable Garden, and saw maybe 10 games a month, thanks to this, many behind the Celtics bench. I was there for the classic "Pigeon Game," where the bird inexplicably landed at halfcourt, urging the team to victory. I saw Laimbeer and Parish tangle, and Rambis and McHale battle on the boards. I saw David Thirdkill, Conner Henry, and Bill Walton. And, in 1986, I saw what is arguably the greatest NBA team of all time dominate the season and win the Sweet 16th banner.
Over the next few years, the Big Three retired. Lenny Bias overdosed, Reggie Lewis had a heart attack, and Red Auerbach faded away. And the game changed: Michael Jordan created the individual highlight player and the team game went out of style. The game became a preening, thug-like mockery of itself. By the time Jordan won his last title, I was done with the NBA. And so it remained, for many years. I tried from time to time to get into it, but the game was simply not the same. I had moved on to my beloved Cowboys and football, and forgot all about the Celtics.
In the last month, I have been traveling quite a bit. I fly JetBlue whenever I can, for reasons I have blogged about repeatedly. About a month ago, I had a cross-country flight. I considered catching up on email, or firing up the iPhone for a video, but I flipped through JetBlue's DirecTV connection, and saw a Celtics playoff game was about to start. What the hell, I thought. After all, I had a 6+ hour flight; why not? I had heard the Celtics had imported a whole new team of all stars this season, so it might be interesting. I tuned in, and was pleasantly surprised: this was a team game again! Even better, the game had changed: big men were shooting three pointers; superstars were more interested in passing that highlight reel shots; rookies playing like veterans. It was a delight, and the game was close, as the Celtics won a Game 5 after an incredible deficit. I was hooked.
As the Finals began, I convinced myself that this was a JetBlue phenomenon. I knew, as the made-for-TV rematch of the Celtics and Lakers began, that the Celtics were destined for a loss. They were a new team, with a bad coach, and that they would quickly revert when faced with the modern day solo acts of Kobe Bryant and Pau Gasol. Word came that Game 1 was the Celtics', and I began to hope again. Game 2, I was transfixed: facing the largest playoff deficit in history, just as I flicked on the TV, the Celtics came back to win back to back in Boston. Could it be? Did I dare to hope?
Tonight's Game 6 win culminated the rediscovered love of basketball for me. After tonight's win, capping their championship, the babbling sideline reporter went to the emotional heart of the team, Kevin Garnett, and attempted to stick a microphone in his face. Instead of the usual blather about thanking his teammates, and the other team, he cried. He struggled to find the words. Finally, without warning, he raised up, spread his arms wide, and screamed an unbridled expression of satisfaction and joy. And I was brought to tears by a sport in a way I had not been for nearly two decades. These were men who had all been superstars on teams that had never seen success, brought together in a last chance for greatness. They were warriors who played not for the shoe contracts, or the commercials, but for the game. They were men who all took a chance: they joined a team that was absolutely the league-worst last year, and all joined for a desperate grasp at greatness...and did just that.
So tonight, I smoke a celebratory Red Auerbach cigar, not for the Celtics, not for JetBlue, but for the rekindling of a joy I had long forgot...and for the players who reminded me that there is still greatness in competition, faith, teamwork, and joy. No, it's not the Big Three; no, the Garden is no longer standing; no, this is not always going to be the case. But for tonight, the Celtics have won a championship again...and won my basketball heart once again.
Labels: sports
Thursday, June 12, 2008
RT To Help Ressurect TSI?
Should have put a BluBet on it. RT returns to the remains of the company he founded:
Let the games begin. And let's hope for the great second act that only Richard can bring.
Should have put a BluBet on it. RT returns to the remains of the company he founded:"James Salter, head of Hilco Consumer Capital, a Chicago company that late last month agreed to pay $49 million for the remains of Sharper Image, says he has approached [Richard] Thalheimer about working as a product consultant. "I think he'd be an excellent guy to bring back," says Salter.
Thalheimer says he's considering the offer--but only if he can keep running Richardsolo."
Let the games begin. And let's hope for the great second act that only Richard can bring.
Hush Hush
I do like Google's IM venture, Google Talk, for a number of reasons: it's built on open standards platforms (Jabber), it allows clever integration with Gmail, and it allows VOIP in a straightfoward, no nonsense fashion that Yahoo, MSN, and AOL seem to eschew. However, I don't use the Google Talk client; instead, I use Trillian, a multi-IM application, allowing me to be on AOL, MSN, Yahoo, and Google Talk all at once (disclosure: I am actually beta testing Trillian Astra, the next version.)
Today, I noticed in a chat with my buddy Tim a new line that appeared in our chat log:
Intriguing! I investigated further, and found this link, and it's explanation:
Smart. Very smart.
I do like Google's IM venture, Google Talk, for a number of reasons: it's built on open standards platforms (Jabber), it allows clever integration with Gmail, and it allows VOIP in a straightfoward, no nonsense fashion that Yahoo, MSN, and AOL seem to eschew. However, I don't use the Google Talk client; instead, I use Trillian, a multi-IM application, allowing me to be on AOL, MSN, Yahoo, and Google Talk all at once (disclosure: I am actually beta testing Trillian Astra, the next version.)Today, I noticed in a chat with my buddy Tim a new line that appeared in our chat log:
Intriguing! I investigated further, and found this link, and it's explanation:"What does it mean to go off the record?This is fascinating. I archive all of my IM chats, allowing for easy searches within Trillian for recall later; this becomes extremely important with conversations with employees, clients, and partners. But to be able to integrate this into Google search results? Wow, who needs Google Desktop?
We know that sometimes, we don't want a particular chat, or chats with a specific person, to be saved. Most existing IM services give no indication of whether the person you're chatting with is saving your conversation. But when chatting in Google Talk or Gmail, you can go "off the record," so that nothing typed from that point forward gets automatically saved in anyone's Gmail account.
Going off the record applies to individual people, and is persistent across chats. That means once you go off the record with a particular person, you will always be off the record with him or her, even if you close the chat window, and the two of you don't chat again until several months later. You will not need to go off the record each time you chat with the same person, but you will need to make this decision for each person you chat with. We've designed this to be a socially-negotiated setting because we want to give users full disclosure and control over whether the person they're talking to can save their chat."
Smart. Very smart.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Rapture Averted: JesusPhone2 Fails To Appear
Let me start by saying that Apple is the kind of company you love. When they swing, they swing for the fences. Sure, they may strike out from time to time (Uh...Mac Cube? Newton?), but more often than not they connect, and they send it out of the park. Think of the iMac, OS X, The Powerbook. But go beyond: think of Apple retail stores and how they redefine shopping, or the marketing campaign that started it all, Think Different. The iPhone was, arguably, their greatest hit to date, and millions of customers later, we hungry hordes were desperate for another home run.
Waaay back in February, the rumors started of an iPhone software update that would allow you to run applications on the JesusPhone. When Apple scheduled a keynote in March, it was all but done. And then the first letdown of the young iPhone's existence was revealed: rather than keep to the previously inviolable mantra of Apple's "Announce today, get today," His Steveness took the stage that rainy March morning to proudly announce the iPhone 2.0 software and SDK...available in June. Crestfallen, the throngs consoled themselves that the timing was just about right for a new version of the iPhone, so perhaps we'd see the ultimate JesusPhone, along with the new apps and the backwards compatibility, and...and....
You get the picture.
So, today was the day: Apple's Worldwide Developer's Conference. Steve on stage, the June timeframe, mysterious Apple online store offline (as usual with new hardware), and the scarcity of JesusPhone 1 in any retail locations. Yes, the stars were aligned. Add to that the frenzied examination of any clue (smaller LCD's? Dual sizes?), and we were ready to go. Sure, we knew the basics of any new iPhone: 3G speeds, GPS tracking, and a price cut. After all, those are not only staples of any sequel Apple product, but address the lack of those features in JesusPhone1, while the rest of the phones on the market have that all built in.
This is the JesusPhone, after all. It's not a phone; pfeh. That could be done (and has) by anyone. No, the JesusPhone transforms the way we use technology, establishes a new paradigm. Before JesusPhone, using the web on your phone was a novelty; after, it's the standard. Music on your phone? Hell, before JP1 it was a painful experience; after, it's the only experience. Watching movies on your phone? Never before even considered. These were not features; they were conscious lifestyle choices to make a device that fits with the desires we have to consume communications and media, and the time in which we have to do them. So, it was clear we were in for a patented "Oh, just one more thing..." from Lord Steve today. The rumors were rampant, including:
- 2 way video calls, thanks to a front-facing video camera and 3G
- An iPhone Nano, for the smaller form factor
- Wireless iTunes syncing, wherever you are
- Subsidized by AT&T, the price would be astronomically lower
- A new Project RED version
So, our stage was set. The timing was right. The signs were there. It was time for Apple to redefine our world again. The lights lowered, the black turtleneck was seen, and we all refreshed our browsers (or used Macrumors.com) to learn what universe we now lived in...
And Apple announced 3G, GPS, and a price cut. Oh, the one more thing? That iPhone 2.0 software, as well as JesusPhone2? Mmm...forget that June thing. Early July.
Yup, that was it.
Sure, they tried to dress it up with some announcements of new apps for the forthcoming App Store, as well as some interesting infrastructure improvements (back-end connectivity, sync with the cloud with Mobile Me, etc.), but this was it. This could have been a Samsung keynote. Or, more to the point, a Microsoft one. Apple's stock plummeted in real-time with every new non-revelation. And the delay, when we all expected in March, and were told June, and now are hopeful for July, should pummel them.
Today's the day that Apple came down from the stratosphere. The legendary Jobs, understandably weakened by pancreatic cancer, was not able to make this new revelation in the timeframe we expected. Instead, he exposed Apple as a company that misses deadlines, fails to dramatically innovate on a successful product, and outsources his future success on 3rd parties. Might as well change the name to Palm, and be done with it.
Do I sound bitter? You bet I am, and it's Apple's fault. They trained us this way: before Apple, we never would have looked at today's keynote as anything but a dazzling vision of the future. Instead, thanks to their own expectation setting, we are reduced to pedestrian concerns. No game changers, no game breakers, no new game level: just being played.
I shed a tear for today: the day that my Apple vision innocence was lost. Bring on July...
Let me start by saying that Apple is the kind of company you love. When they swing, they swing for the fences. Sure, they may strike out from time to time (Uh...Mac Cube? Newton?), but more often than not they connect, and they send it out of the park. Think of the iMac, OS X, The Powerbook. But go beyond: think of Apple retail stores and how they redefine shopping, or the marketing campaign that started it all, Think Different. The iPhone was, arguably, their greatest hit to date, and millions of customers later, we hungry hordes were desperate for another home run.Waaay back in February, the rumors started of an iPhone software update that would allow you to run applications on the JesusPhone. When Apple scheduled a keynote in March, it was all but done. And then the first letdown of the young iPhone's existence was revealed: rather than keep to the previously inviolable mantra of Apple's "Announce today, get today," His Steveness took the stage that rainy March morning to proudly announce the iPhone 2.0 software and SDK...available in June. Crestfallen, the throngs consoled themselves that the timing was just about right for a new version of the iPhone, so perhaps we'd see the ultimate JesusPhone, along with the new apps and the backwards compatibility, and...and....
You get the picture.
So, today was the day: Apple's Worldwide Developer's Conference. Steve on stage, the June timeframe, mysterious Apple online store offline (as usual with new hardware), and the scarcity of JesusPhone 1 in any retail locations. Yes, the stars were aligned. Add to that the frenzied examination of any clue (smaller LCD's? Dual sizes?), and we were ready to go. Sure, we knew the basics of any new iPhone: 3G speeds, GPS tracking, and a price cut. After all, those are not only staples of any sequel Apple product, but address the lack of those features in JesusPhone1, while the rest of the phones on the market have that all built in.
This is the JesusPhone, after all. It's not a phone; pfeh. That could be done (and has) by anyone. No, the JesusPhone transforms the way we use technology, establishes a new paradigm. Before JesusPhone, using the web on your phone was a novelty; after, it's the standard. Music on your phone? Hell, before JP1 it was a painful experience; after, it's the only experience. Watching movies on your phone? Never before even considered. These were not features; they were conscious lifestyle choices to make a device that fits with the desires we have to consume communications and media, and the time in which we have to do them. So, it was clear we were in for a patented "Oh, just one more thing..." from Lord Steve today. The rumors were rampant, including:
- 2 way video calls, thanks to a front-facing video camera and 3G- An iPhone Nano, for the smaller form factor
- Wireless iTunes syncing, wherever you are
- Subsidized by AT&T, the price would be astronomically lower
- A new Project RED version
So, our stage was set. The timing was right. The signs were there. It was time for Apple to redefine our world again. The lights lowered, the black turtleneck was seen, and we all refreshed our browsers (or used Macrumors.com) to learn what universe we now lived in...
And Apple announced 3G, GPS, and a price cut. Oh, the one more thing? That iPhone 2.0 software, as well as JesusPhone2? Mmm...forget that June thing. Early July.Yup, that was it.
Sure, they tried to dress it up with some announcements of new apps for the forthcoming App Store, as well as some interesting infrastructure improvements (back-end connectivity, sync with the cloud with Mobile Me, etc.), but this was it. This could have been a Samsung keynote. Or, more to the point, a Microsoft one. Apple's stock plummeted in real-time with every new non-revelation. And the delay, when we all expected in March, and were told June, and now are hopeful for July, should pummel them.
Today's the day that Apple came down from the stratosphere. The legendary Jobs, understandably weakened by pancreatic cancer, was not able to make this new revelation in the timeframe we expected. Instead, he exposed Apple as a company that misses deadlines, fails to dramatically innovate on a successful product, and outsources his future success on 3rd parties. Might as well change the name to Palm, and be done with it.
Do I sound bitter? You bet I am, and it's Apple's fault. They trained us this way: before Apple, we never would have looked at today's keynote as anything but a dazzling vision of the future. Instead, thanks to their own expectation setting, we are reduced to pedestrian concerns. No game changers, no game breakers, no new game level: just being played.
I shed a tear for today: the day that my Apple vision innocence was lost. Bring on July...
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Back Inside
the_NFL_logo.jpg)
Good news today for NFL Films fans like me. Courtesy of the always-entertaining MJD, word comes that the venerable Inside The NFL that has aired on HBO almost since its inception, has risen from the dead. For those that were not aware, this past season was the last of the highlight show's long run, leaving Dan Marino, Bob Costas, Cris Carter, and Chris Collinsworth out of a job. Of course, they had those cushy Sunday morning gigs to fall back on, and Costas is practically his own brand by now, so not too many tears. But Showtime wisely recognized the built-in audience, and swept in to revive it.
No word yet if the staff is back, too, but one can hope that the NFL Films staff members that were laid off as a result of HBO's earlier decision will be back. How about it, Dan? Kick in a little of that salary?
Good news today for NFL Films fans like me. Courtesy of the always-entertaining MJD, word comes that the venerable Inside The NFL that has aired on HBO almost since its inception, has risen from the dead. For those that were not aware, this past season was the last of the highlight show's long run, leaving Dan Marino, Bob Costas, Cris Carter, and Chris Collinsworth out of a job. Of course, they had those cushy Sunday morning gigs to fall back on, and Costas is practically his own brand by now, so not too many tears. But Showtime wisely recognized the built-in audience, and swept in to revive it.No word yet if the staff is back, too, but one can hope that the NFL Films staff members that were laid off as a result of HBO's earlier decision will be back. How about it, Dan? Kick in a little of that salary?
Mmm...smells like bacon
I have a jar of bacon jam on my desk (thank you, Morgan!), three bottles of bacon salt on the way, and now David offers me the ultimate daily treat:
I am in hog heaven.
I am in hog heaven.
Labels: bacon
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Sunday, June 01, 2008
The 5th Best Indiana Jones Movie
Last night, I finally had a chance to check out the new Indiana Jones movie, after months of anticipation. Let's set the stage: I grew up with Indiana Jones. 27 years ago, this movie burst on the scene, with Han Solo himself finally getting a movie all of his own. And what a movie! A tribute to the classic 1930's serials, with Spielberg's trademark action and humor, and Lucas' soaring script...it was like the all-star game of moviedom. Like all others, I was hooked on the Fedora and whip. We suffered through the next prequel (I maintain that no prequels have ever, nor may ever, succeed on the big screen...but that's a blog for another day), and were rewarded with the masterful final movie, eight years after it began.
And then Indiana Jones was gone...until last weekend, where, defying all odds of age, fatigue, the master Raider unfurled his whip, and swung back into our stunned and delighted hearts.
Uh...no.
There is much to like about this film, primarily that it even exists. So many great films with fantastic characters, we want to see again and again, even if they can't recapture the original spirit. The epic trilogy of Star Wars, for example, inspired an entire universe of films, TV, books, comics, merchandise...it goes on. Raiders of the Lost Ark single handedly revived that hat business. So, if we see the classic team up again, it's just great to see them. But so often, after so long, the magic cannot be recaptured. Think of Godfather III, which might have been a good movie, if not for poor casting. Or, more recently, the abomination that were the new Star Wars films. Alas, like those, this new installment didn't make the grade.
What I liked:
- They did a very good job of trying to reflect that time had passed in Indiana Jones' world, as well. They cleverly caught you up on what he'd been doing with a few offhanded comments about the OSS, the war, spying on the Russians, etc. They also did a good job, despite reviewers saying to the contrary, on handling the reveal and consequent adaptation of the existence of Mutt, Indiana Jones' newfound son. And major kudos to bringing back Karen Allen: yes, she may have aged (who among us has not), but Marion Ravenwood is still the best Indy female foil. I miss her drinking contests, sure, but she still had that trademark cocksure bravado.
- They used a good combination of camera angles and effects to mask Harrison Ford's doubles in the more physical scenes. The man is 66 years old, after all; let's let him have a double and agree it's Ok. Still, it was impressive to see him bounding up those boxes in the warehouse still; Indy's still got some spunk.
- The plot was typically epic, and the characters were as wonderfully two dimensional as ever. Cate Blanchett's Soviet villain was actually spot-on, as was Shia LaBeouf's easily irked Mutt.
- Hey, who can resist the classic score, and the scenes of the red line tracing across the map as the montage of planes run in the background? Nobody does it like Spielberg.
- As East Coast Charles pointed out, the sounds of punches in the Indiana Jones movies are unlike any other film. They have a snap that is the perfect balance of comic, cartoon, and classic serial. And this latest installment kept throwing perfect haymakers.
- Love the in-jokes. The warehouse, with the broken box revealing just a hint of the Ark of the Covenant, was perfect, as were the self-deprecations about his age and references to Sean Connery's character. And the breeze blowing the Fedora to Shia's feet at the end was a nice setup.
Ok, now time for the bad news. What I did not like:
- The movie is entitled Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. See those first two words? Actually, see that first word? Great: that's the only time you will see or hear it all movie. Yup, Indy, the coolest name ever, is now Henry. You remember, at the end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, the fantastic comic reveal of Indy's given name? Well, apparently, that killed the name Indiana Jones for this entire film. Instead, he's Henry Jones, Jr., invoked so often, you want to kill the screenwriter. In fact the only person who utters Indy's moniker at all is Marion Ravenwood, and that with only the occasional "Indy!" Scream in peril or surprise. Even his buddy, Mack, calls him "Jonesy." One word for this: sacrilege.
- The plot is utterly unengaging. If you have not seen it, I won't spoil it, but it starts in 1957 at Area 51...guess what the movie's about? The previous films focused on various religious iconography and their treasures. With this subject matter, the climactic final scene was obvious from the first locations.
- Um, I think Indiana Jones used some iconic weapon...something that every kid for decades after wanted to master. Oh, right, the bullwhip. Glad I remembered it...I wish the makers of this film had. Know how many times we saw the whip? Twice. Yes, that's it. Know what it was doing? Once it was used in classic style, as you have no doubt seen from the trailers, swinging through the warehouse. The other time? A lame toss to help Mack to safety. This is THE WHIP. C'mon!!! Not to mention that you introduced a story element where the treasure was magnetic, making most guns useless: could you not have come up with a clever fact that the only good weapon would have been the leather whip?? What a miss.
- Harrison Ford was perfect as Indiana Jones as he always expressed a mix of energy, enthusiasm, grizzled experience, and utter astonishment that he kept surviving these unbelievable situations. Here, he's just tired and grizzled. The snappy patter that used to be his trademark is flat, and bereft of any snap. And let's be true here: we came to see Indy, not a tired Henry Jones Jr., but that's what we mostly got. Give us what we paid for.
- The supporting cast was wasted, which was never the case in past films. Karen Allen and John Rhys-Davies in Raiders. Sean Connery and Denholm Elliot in Crusade. And in Temple of Doom....ok, forget Temple of Doom (so many have tried). But still, you had rich characters here who do almost nothing. Shia Lebouf, who was so good in everything else before now, was almost window dressing. Ray Winestone, who was perfect in The Departed, was a caricature here. What the hell was John Hurt doing here? He was practically a mime! Only Cate Blanchett shined.
- Where is the classic horrifying end to our villains? The climactic Ark scene of melting faces of Raiders still gives me nightmares. Temple of Doom gave us still-beating hearts ripped from the chest. And we had the rapid aging and disintegration at the end of the Last Crusade. These were scary, and for kids made the films all the more poignant: this was adult stuff. Here? A digital dissolve into dust. Perfect for today's sensitive children. Blech.
In essence, this film was not better than any of the three previous ones. But I titled this post that it was the 5th best; why? I contend that The Mummy was an Indiana Jones movie, and a damned good one. You had the scholarly aspects, the derring-do, the religious backdrop that leads to treasure and grave robbing...it was probably the third best Indiana Jones film, even though it did not involve Indiana Jones. This one ranks below it, and, in my opinion, below Temple of Doom.
Indy (excuse me, Henry), it was nice to see you, and thanks for coming back. Always great to get together, and talk about old times. Next time, maybe we can just pop in the Raiders DVD instead. Or maybe we can just hope for more with August's release of The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor. In any case, it's time to let Henry get back to the classroom, and out of the field.
Last night, I finally had a chance to check out the new Indiana Jones movie, after months of anticipation. Let's set the stage: I grew up with Indiana Jones. 27 years ago, this movie burst on the scene, with Han Solo himself finally getting a movie all of his own. And what a movie! A tribute to the classic 1930's serials, with Spielberg's trademark action and humor, and Lucas' soaring script...it was like the all-star game of moviedom. Like all others, I was hooked on the Fedora and whip. We suffered through the next prequel (I maintain that no prequels have ever, nor may ever, succeed on the big screen...but that's a blog for another day), and were rewarded with the masterful final movie, eight years after it began. And then Indiana Jones was gone...until last weekend, where, defying all odds of age, fatigue, the master Raider unfurled his whip, and swung back into our stunned and delighted hearts.
Uh...no.
There is much to like about this film, primarily that it even exists. So many great films with fantastic characters, we want to see again and again, even if they can't recapture the original spirit. The epic trilogy of Star Wars, for example, inspired an entire universe of films, TV, books, comics, merchandise...it goes on. Raiders of the Lost Ark single handedly revived that hat business. So, if we see the classic team up again, it's just great to see them. But so often, after so long, the magic cannot be recaptured. Think of Godfather III, which might have been a good movie, if not for poor casting. Or, more recently, the abomination that were the new Star Wars films. Alas, like those, this new installment didn't make the grade.
What I liked:
- They did a very good job of trying to reflect that time had passed in Indiana Jones' world, as well. They cleverly caught you up on what he'd been doing with a few offhanded comments about the OSS, the war, spying on the Russians, etc. They also did a good job, despite reviewers saying to the contrary, on handling the reveal and consequent adaptation of the existence of Mutt, Indiana Jones' newfound son. And major kudos to bringing back Karen Allen: yes, she may have aged (who among us has not), but Marion Ravenwood is still the best Indy female foil. I miss her drinking contests, sure, but she still had that trademark cocksure bravado.
- They used a good combination of camera angles and effects to mask Harrison Ford's doubles in the more physical scenes. The man is 66 years old, after all; let's let him have a double and agree it's Ok. Still, it was impressive to see him bounding up those boxes in the warehouse still; Indy's still got some spunk.
- The plot was typically epic, and the characters were as wonderfully two dimensional as ever. Cate Blanchett's Soviet villain was actually spot-on, as was Shia LaBeouf's easily irked Mutt.
- Hey, who can resist the classic score, and the scenes of the red line tracing across the map as the montage of planes run in the background? Nobody does it like Spielberg.
- As East Coast Charles pointed out, the sounds of punches in the Indiana Jones movies are unlike any other film. They have a snap that is the perfect balance of comic, cartoon, and classic serial. And this latest installment kept throwing perfect haymakers.
- Love the in-jokes. The warehouse, with the broken box revealing just a hint of the Ark of the Covenant, was perfect, as were the self-deprecations about his age and references to Sean Connery's character. And the breeze blowing the Fedora to Shia's feet at the end was a nice setup.
Ok, now time for the bad news. What I did not like:
- The movie is entitled Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. See those first two words? Actually, see that first word? Great: that's the only time you will see or hear it all movie. Yup, Indy, the coolest name ever, is now Henry. You remember, at the end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, the fantastic comic reveal of Indy's given name? Well, apparently, that killed the name Indiana Jones for this entire film. Instead, he's Henry Jones, Jr., invoked so often, you want to kill the screenwriter. In fact the only person who utters Indy's moniker at all is Marion Ravenwood, and that with only the occasional "Indy!" Scream in peril or surprise. Even his buddy, Mack, calls him "Jonesy." One word for this: sacrilege.
- The plot is utterly unengaging. If you have not seen it, I won't spoil it, but it starts in 1957 at Area 51...guess what the movie's about? The previous films focused on various religious iconography and their treasures. With this subject matter, the climactic final scene was obvious from the first locations.
- Um, I think Indiana Jones used some iconic weapon...something that every kid for decades after wanted to master. Oh, right, the bullwhip. Glad I remembered it...I wish the makers of this film had. Know how many times we saw the whip? Twice. Yes, that's it. Know what it was doing? Once it was used in classic style, as you have no doubt seen from the trailers, swinging through the warehouse. The other time? A lame toss to help Mack to safety. This is THE WHIP. C'mon!!! Not to mention that you introduced a story element where the treasure was magnetic, making most guns useless: could you not have come up with a clever fact that the only good weapon would have been the leather whip?? What a miss.
- Harrison Ford was perfect as Indiana Jones as he always expressed a mix of energy, enthusiasm, grizzled experience, and utter astonishment that he kept surviving these unbelievable situations. Here, he's just tired and grizzled. The snappy patter that used to be his trademark is flat, and bereft of any snap. And let's be true here: we came to see Indy, not a tired Henry Jones Jr., but that's what we mostly got. Give us what we paid for.
- The supporting cast was wasted, which was never the case in past films. Karen Allen and John Rhys-Davies in Raiders. Sean Connery and Denholm Elliot in Crusade. And in Temple of Doom....ok, forget Temple of Doom (so many have tried). But still, you had rich characters here who do almost nothing. Shia Lebouf, who was so good in everything else before now, was almost window dressing. Ray Winestone, who was perfect in The Departed, was a caricature here. What the hell was John Hurt doing here? He was practically a mime! Only Cate Blanchett shined.
- Where is the classic horrifying end to our villains? The climactic Ark scene of melting faces of Raiders still gives me nightmares. Temple of Doom gave us still-beating hearts ripped from the chest. And we had the rapid aging and disintegration at the end of the Last Crusade. These were scary, and for kids made the films all the more poignant: this was adult stuff. Here? A digital dissolve into dust. Perfect for today's sensitive children. Blech.
In essence, this film was not better than any of the three previous ones. But I titled this post that it was the 5th best; why? I contend that The Mummy was an Indiana Jones movie, and a damned good one. You had the scholarly aspects, the derring-do, the religious backdrop that leads to treasure and grave robbing...it was probably the third best Indiana Jones film, even though it did not involve Indiana Jones. This one ranks below it, and, in my opinion, below Temple of Doom.
Indy (excuse me, Henry), it was nice to see you, and thanks for coming back. Always great to get together, and talk about old times. Next time, maybe we can just pop in the Raiders DVD instead. Or maybe we can just hope for more with August's release of The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor. In any case, it's time to let Henry get back to the classroom, and out of the field.
