We're in the middle of a drought, and the water commissioner drowns. Only in L.A.

New banner courtesy of Beedow, a former blogger who should blog again. He's a natural writer. But he's also a working actor, so time is short. At this point I'd name his favorite movie, just to keep in line with the mission of this blog, but I actually don't know what his favorite movie is. So I'm just going to guess Singin' in the Rain. Thanks, Beedow.

Wherein I talk about the state of things, and what comes next

Blog was tottering toward an identity crisis before I went on my recent Adventure. I had moved out of my seven-movies-a-week phase, had barely a lick of anything to write about, was going to miss the Oscar season (the only aspect of reality on which I feel cognitively qualified to comment) and didn't have the time or wherewithal to steer Blog toward providing insight, amusement or self-satisfaction — the only goals I had for it when I started it three years ago, on the 32nd floor of a 'scraper at 52nd and Broadway. Blog was founded on the principle of No One Cares about the Personal Lives of Errant Websurfers; I commissioned myself to write solely about movies; if I was to talk about my personal life, it would be refracted through movies; in short, this Blog would not be about me; over these same three years I also developed a strange lust for semi-colons, even though Kurt Vonnegut said not to use them, that they are "transvestite hermaphrodites, standing for absolutely nothing. All they do is show you’ve been to college."

I have been to college, and I regret going. I was too young, too stupid and could've benefited from some real-world experience before hitting the books. Also, Vonnegut is overrated.

Anyway, my point: Blog will continue, but it must evolve. Into what? Maybe something more personal, even though I've put dual restraints on myself by maintaining relative anonymity while still revealing Blog to people I know and love. Censorship on both fronts. Whatever. Blog will continue. Please, if you care to, leave something in the comments: a recommendation, a suggestion, an explanation of why you come here to read, or simply a "hi there how are ya."

Upcoming topics as I get back into the swing of things: a quick recap of the Adventure, thoughts on what it means to live 42 days without Internet and TV and news, an outsider's view of a missed Oscar season, belated reactions to the deaths of Heath Ledger and Roy Scheider, and thoughts on the movies I saw on the ship (which I never would've seen anywhere else).

Wow them in the end, and you've got a hit

The 10 best movie endings are delineated in today's Independent by Anthony Quinn. I've seen six of the 10, and I heartily agree with his inclusion of The Third Man (perhaps the best movie ending ever), The Conversation (a practically perfect ending to a practically perfect movie) and Chinatown, of course.

The inclusion of Chinatown allows me to address, for the first time, the title of Blog. "As little as possible" not only indicates my affinity for brevity but also serves as a tribute to an almost inaudible line at the conclusion of Chinatown. SPOILER ALERT. Jack Nicholson (as private eye J.J. Gittes, my namesake) has just witnessed the shooting of his lover by trigger-happy cops. He stands by the scene, blank-faced. You can see his soul shriveling up. After a moment, his mouth mutters, "As little as possible." The line is almost impossible to hear on first viewing, yet it makes the movie. People remember "Forget it, Jake, it's Chinatown," but it has a fraction of the emotional devastation of "As little as possible."

Earlier, we learn that Gittes was once a detective in Los Angeles' Chinatown area, and that he left (or was forced out of) the business when a case went wrong and someone got hurt (presumably a love interest). When he's asked what he did on the Chinatown beat, Gittes wryly admits he and his colleagues were encouraged to do "as little as possible." Why fight corruption if it only results in strife? At the end of the movie, Gittes finds himself again in Chinatown. Again, his well-intended meddling has resulted in the death of someone he cares about. He doesn't scream or cry or rend his clothing; he simply chastises himself with a whisper. "As little as possible." It's a line that encompasses the futility of his existence. It's a killer.

What would you add to Quinn's list? My top pick would be David Mamet's House of Games, which ends on a seductively sinister note. Who knew the quiet theft of a gold cigarette lighter could be so damn delicious?

Update / 10.23.07, 6 p.m. / I forgot to mention that there is at least one other blog out there that takes its name from a line in Chinatown. This would be Bad for the Glass, a culture blog. "Bad for the glass" is uttered several times by Faye Dunaway's groundskeeper. It proves to be the clue on which the plot hinges.

And now, a word from our sponsors

It is Tuesday, Oct. 16, and I have had my Netflix movies at home for a solid month or more. I am essentially paying $15 to not watch movies. I have not seen a movie in theaters since Telluride. Yes, I have watched movies with friends in the interim, but it appears my days of ravenous solo-watching are over. I get home from work and go straight to a social obligation, or I spend time working on other projects, or I go to sleep. Movies, it seems, are taking valuable time away from life.

It is with extreme irony that I now make this pledge: I will post once a day through mid-January. Given extenuating circumstances, I have toyed with dissolving Blog, or simply changing its mission. I have decided to do neither. However, since I will be posting at least once a day til January, you can expect me to address topics that aren't rigidly anchored to film. I will not totter into syrupy personal issues; I will seek to connect what's on my mind with what's on film; but know that I will consider most topics "in bounds." Times change and so must I. Stay with me.

What happens in mid-January, you ask? I take a sabbatical from the Internet (and Blog, and Job, and Life) for six weeks. I will be sailing my way to the other end of the globe for reasons known only to me. I will spend that time on a ship, somewhere between Tokyo and Muscat, with strangers. During that time I will pay attention to my fellow man rather than a computer screen or television. Yes, this means I will miss the Oscars (and the entire Oscar season) for the first time in 13 years. Yes, this means I'm suspending the DZ Oscar Pool just as it's about to hit its remarkable 10th anniversary. Yes, I need to do this. I hope you understand.

I will surely return to Blog when I return to Internet, and Job, and the New World (the second week of March, perhaps). But! We still have all of fall and some of winter together. I will continue to hack away at my Triple Crowners Series, which has been my spurned magnum opus for a couple months. And while this blog has overstayed its welcome since its inception, I will seek to refine it in small ways. You might already notice alterations to Blog's template and sidebar. I will be trying new things. That's what's so great about the film blogosphere: it allows for invention and reinvention, and I'm happy to be doing both, sometimes simultaneously.

Blog like banner?

Blog is two years old today. I'm suprised I've kept it up so long -- it's waxed and waned and stopped maturing long ago. It's an indulgence, and it succeeds and fails based on my whims. You'll notice it's been pretty barren of insight lately. Ah well. We'll celebrate anyway. Some of you have been with me from the beginning. Others drop in along the way, as the blogosphere of film chat grows and tightens. And then there are those of you who are constantly looking for nude photos of Dakota Fanning (how do I know this? SiteMeter graciously tracks Google searches that lead here). So. Friends, blog colleagues, perverts: Thanks for shopping here. Now, a buffet of notable posts past:

Grappling with Apocalypto. 11/30/06
Catching up with the Up docs. 11/27/06
The Queen: The Abridged Version. 11/22/06
Think piece on Catherine O'Hara. 11/17/06
Facing The Exorcist. 10/31/06
Peter MacNicol as the ultimate Renfield. 10/30/06
Ellen Burstyn becomes herself. 10/28/06
On Thomson on Kidman. 10/5/06
The Far from Heaven trailer: One brief touch of Venus. 9/24/06
The Tandy-Cronyn Geriatric Sci-Fi Legacy. 7/14/06
The compromise of the X-Men. 5/25/06
Fiorentino, Bacall & the dearth of dangerous women. 5/13/06
The greatest love dashes of all time. 5/2/06
A love letter to Tom Cruise. 4/19/06
Discovering The Tall Guy. 4/10/06.
Liveblogging the Oscars. 3/5/06
Appreciation of Darren McGavin. 2/26/06
Meryl & Charlize. 10/29/05
The sweet surrender of Wit. 10/21/05
Death Becomes Her, that sensational masterpiece. 2/21/05
New thoughts on Annie Hall. 2/16/05

What do you want from me?

It's morning, and you roll over in bed and Blog is already awake and expectant. "Now?" you rasp. "Well, if not now, when?" says Blog, arms crossed.

In one's relationship with one's blog, I s'pose everyone dips in and out of this particular rut. I've got nothing. Nothing except hairbrained Oscar thoughts, and I don't want this to turn into an Oscar quagmire three months out of every year. I've watched some movies lately, but have been uninspired by all of them. I've been thinking about my favorites of all time, but haven't had time to write cogently about them (hence the last post, which, through an image and a lyric, sought to bring you to my mental plane with the least possible amount of work).

There will be plenty to talk about in the second half of February: thoughts on 2006 and the requisite Oscar hoo-ha (including crazy-ass predictions and live-blogging the ceremony). But until then, what do you want, Blog? More futilely, what do you want, readers? Give me a topic -- an actor, a character, a moment in a movie. It can be wholly, partially, tangentially or tenuously related to film. It can be an obscure or ridiculous request. Make me relate and compare two totally different films to each other. Challenge me. I hate to resort to this kind of peddling, but as a friend of mine once said, "Rules? Of course there are rules. But I make them."