While we’re on the subject of thunder… I totally lied when I said I’d shut up about Miranda July. Cannes has just announced that Miranda July is the co-winner of the Camera d’Or for Me and You and Everyone We Know. (The Camera d’Or is for best first film screened at the festival; Me and You wasn’t part of the official competition, which was won by les frères Dardenne.) Congratulations, Ms. July, and I forgive you for flying to France and skipping out on the interview we were supposed to do yesterday.

Also, I saw the movie again this morning (I am a lunatic, yes) and I would like to retract something I wrote in my capsule review of the film. It’s not about a suburb. I was convinced by everyone else who claimed it’s set in a suburb, but I think really it’s a West Coast city neighborhood (some weird composite involving the palm trees of L.A., where it was filmed, and the streets and parks of Portland). I know that seems incredibly nitpicky, but it’s yet another thing that distinguishes the themes of this movie from the obsessions of Todd Solondz.

A confession from the darkest part of Mudede’s heart: Miranda July has stolen my thunder. I know her picture is probably great (I haven’t seen it yet). And that Police Beat, which was in competition with her film at Sundance, has received a lot of critical attention. Nevertheless, I can’t help feeling this loss of thunder.

I also recall a petty, anonymous comment made in the Seattle Weakly that advised people to avoid a screening of Brazil because the guest speaker—Charles Mudede—would be dull.

Now , Charles Mudede is many things, but dull he is not, as anyone who’s spent a couple of minutes with him can attest. If you’re gonna diss somebody in print, please be more accurate, eh, cowardly weasel?

The fact that Seattle Weekly did not mention in their SIFF guide one kind or mean word about Police Beat the movie, which was screened at Sundance, and is to be screened at SIFF, proved to me once and for all that that paper is staffed by weasels of the first order. Instead of being critics, the Weekly writers prefer to be weasels. They weasel their way into this, and weasel their way out of that. We should call that paper Seattle Weasely.

OK, so the new news is that SIFF is screening Me, You, and Everyone We Know again tomorrow morning instead of the MJ “conversation.” So all you whiners who wouldn’t fork over fifty bucks and sit through endless speeches for the best movie in the festival (slight hyperbole) have your chance. 11:15 am, Broadway Performance Hall.

Direct from the Disney publicity department comes this incredibly important breaking news:

“From hit-making producer Jerry Bruckheimer (Gone In 60 Seconds, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl) comes COYOTE UGLY, the intoxicatingly sexy comedy, available June 7 in a racy UNRATED SPECIAL EDITION DVD.”

Among the new features are an additional seven minutes of never-before-seen footage (including “adult-related content”), an all-new commentary from cast and crew, and the disturbingly named “Action Overload” Reel.

Nope. None of those. Suds is fine, I like Suds. The bad one SHALL NOT BE POSTED, I say. And, I remind all you people with malice in your hearts, I have the power to censor this blog.

Vagner?
Wanny Anger?
Suds? (Annie Wagner = A.W. = A&W = rootbeer = Suds)

Well, my plans for a feature about learning how to be a soccer fan in Seattle have been temporarily scotched (the topic will be covered in the forthcoming web-only sports column, Armchair Quarterback). HOWEVER, I’m debating the relative merits of pretending to be truly hardcore by getting up at 6am tomorrow to watch the FA Cup Final between Manchester United and perennial underdogs Arsenal. I have a show tonight, and I am seriously considering rocking on through the night, then going to check the game out at one of two pubs that have the good taste to show the world’s most popular and impressive sport on big screen TVs.

The George and Dragon Pub, at 206 North 36th Street in Fremont, is the obvious sentimental choice, because it’s the most footbally place in the state. But, you need a ticket. Also, they tend to treat newcomers/non-regulars with a particularly English brand of indifference-verging-on-hostility, which I actually kind of like (as I waited forever to be served, this really tough guy took a moment away from screaming “BOLLOCKS” at the TV to address me as “Oi, Thomas,” as in Thomas Dolby). Also, their deep fryer tastes like something died in there. BUT BUT BUT, one of the great pleasures of the last several months has been discovering the culture of soccer fandom as embodied by this fantastic Seattle pub.

The Attic Alehouse (4226 E. Madison) is also opening at 6am to show the game. I’ve never been there, but I’m interested in checking it out.

Of course, it’s perfectly likely that I’ll punk out and go see the noon or 6pm reruns of the game at the G&D. Please don’t judge me.

In what I anticipate will become a regular feature of the Slog, “Look at them talking about us!” (isn’t that what weblogs are for?), here’s GreenCine Daily recommending our SIFF guide to people who don’t even live here. We are “outrageously thorough and deliciously opinionated,” it seems. Yay movies.

Oh, and I’m changing my name to Shwanee River Kateristopher Wagnelson. It’s better than that other nickname which shall not be posted to this blog.

Before the Who were stolen from us (and became a bad frat-boy 70’s rock band), they were weirdo smart art fags.
And before Tommy was a sorority-girl Broadway show, it was a weirdo batch of smart guitar demos.
After you see Sean Nelson sing the (entire!!) 1969 24-song opera at the Crocodile tonight, you will understand why Tommy (and Sean Nelson) are so important.
Do not miss Sean simultaneously play the parts of the Adulteress, the Acid Queen, the sadist, the Pinball Wizard, and the teenage Messiah.

to Seanie Wagner.

They’re on to our News Teamâ„¢ shtick. From Metroblogging Seattle’s weekly comparison of our paper vs. that other one:

Reading the weeklies every week is something like following a television drama. And every season needs a recurring plot arc. It’s becoming clear that this summer’s Teen Dance Ordinance / Build the Monorail / Lift the Poster Ban / etc. storyline is bound to be Broadway Height Restrictions. For a while it looked like Microsoft Hating the Gays had a chance at long-term recurring story status, but with their re-reversal of position the story seems to be cooling. This week’s issue features two brief mentions — one as an article and another as a column.

And let’s not forget the piece that began this storyline: Fear of Heights. We do plan to keep it up, until there’s real action to help Broadway. Or until sweeps week.

I join the chorus of people who thinks Miranda July’s movie is terrific. At its premiere last night, SIFF’s programming director gave a shout-out to the press for supporting the film, mentioning specifically The Stranger’s Sean Nelson, who, while he’s written amazing things about film for The Stranger, hasn’t seen July’s movie yet. It’s Annie Wagner — our much-hated, boots-bearing theater critic — who gushes about the film in our SIFF guide.

While I’m at it I guess I should say that Annie and I are currently embroiled in a debate over whether July’s treatment of her characters, with her extreme attention to their physicality, is Dickensian and vaguely gothic. I say it certainly is.

Sorry everybody, the Miranda July event tomorrow has been canceled. She had to fly out of town this morning.

For years Miranda July has been creating multi-media inspiration for everyone from the DIY punk rocker to the smarty pants art house crowd, but with the Seattle screening of her new film, she really showed that it’s time the mainstream paid attention to her awesome work. SIFF chose her new feature-length movie, Me and You and Everyone We Know to open the festival, definitely a wise choice. The film reminded me of a lighter Todd Solondz film, where there’s definitely twisted humor and odd sexual situations, but Miranda’s sarcasm isn’t quite as black. There’s a great wonder about the world in the way she focuses on everyday situations and makes them moving events. I imagine this movie will get mainstream release a some point…I recommend going to see it….I also recommend combing through her other work. In the past decade plus, she’s written plays, zines, short stories and films—the kind of person you think will never run out of ideas or cool ways to express them.

I love a man in a pair of tighty-whities… but I prefer that man to be under 40, in reasonable shape, and not a mass-murderer and a tyrant.

The headline on Drudge this morning reads “PAPER SPLASHES SADDAM IN UNDERWEAR!” (Mmm… splashing men in their underwear…) There’s a shot of the cover of The Sun, a UK tabloid, showing Saddam in his TWs holding up a pair of pants. On the radio this AM I heard a Bush admin official “express concern” that the shots might violate Saddam’s rights under the Geneva Conventions — apparently there’s a rule against taking snapshots of tyrants in their underpants.

I think the Afghan prisoners the NYT reports on today — they were murdered by US forces — would be happy to swap places with Saddam.

The Bushies’ selective use of the Geneva Conventions is baffling. No comment on murder and torture in prisons in Iraq and Afghanistan, no punishment of the top dogs who ordered it, but photos of Saddam? Someone will have to pay — probably some poor grunt who will, like Miss Lynndie England et al, be dragged through a show trial and tossed in the slammer.

Autechre’s May 18 performance at Neumo’s was so advanced and mind-bogglingly complex and visceral, it may as well have been beamed in from a heretofore unknown galaxy. Kudos to anyone who tried to dance to it, especially the 400-pound dude in the overalls.The sounds coming from Sean Booth and Rob Brown’s gear (all hardware, no laptops, geeks) made me feel like a lump of obsolete meat, hopelessly mired in the passe 21st century with my old-fangled organs and stuff. British clicks & cuts standard bearers snd and Gescom DJ Rob Hall perfectly complemented Autechre’s level-beyond-next-level techno. All praise to Decibel director Sean Horton and Wake Up Promotions’ Steven Severin for booking such an adventurous bill. It was heartening to see almost 800 heads in the house, especially for artists who get no support from local radio.

But let me interrupt this reverie by saying a public smoking ban needs to go into effect, like, yesterday. It’s fucked up when you go to a show at a relatively packed club and upon exiting you have to detox for 24 hours. Seriously, people, you’re literally killing me. Please take into consideration other people’s lungs for a change. Because I’m about ready to start packing a water pistol at shows and ruthlessly extinguish your cancer sticks.

Why not blog about Seattlest blogging about our blog?

Now, we can commence ignoring that damn site.

I feel so meta.

… is that Miranda July is doing an onstage interview Saturday morning at the Broadway Performance Hall. Secretive, sneaky SIFF, trying to hide one of the coolest events in the festival in the darkest corner of their website. It’s ten bucks, and it’s hosted by Elizabeth Brown of the Henry Art Gallery.

I would like to direct everyone’s attention to page 89 of the latest issue. Josh Feit, our esteemed News Editor, makes his surprise debut as a cartoonist.

Once again, the Seattle Weekly completely botches it. This time it’s George Howland’s coverage of the governor’s-election lawsuit.
In Today’s Seattle Weekly Howland writes, “The GOP is not claiming fraud in court.”
But today’s Seattle Times headline blares: “GOP says election tainted by fraud.”
The Times got it right. GOP State Chair Chris Vance told the Stranger last Thursday that the heart of the Republican case may center on potential fraud in King County. We report that in today’s Stranger.

I’m very amused by this NYT Cannes blog, care of A.O. Scott and (the great) Manohla Dargis. The hecklers, the pathetic cocktails, the “punk” dirges, the “wee-fee”… it’s all here. Oh, and a little about the movies, too.

Che Guevara pooh-pooohs the Iraqi insurgency.