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Pretty used to being with Gwyneth

Regrets that her mother did not smoke

Frank in all directions

Jean Cocteau and Jean Marais

Simply cannot go back to them

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John Gregory Dunne and Joan Didion

Metaphors with eyes

Life of Mary MacLane

Circle what it is you want

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Entries in paul walker (3)

Thursday
Apr092015

In Which This Revolting Tribute To Paul Walker Turns Our Stomach

Juggernaut

by ALEX CARNEVALE

Furious 7
director James Wan
137 minutes

On the night Paul Walker died, Vin Diesel ate the following: six scones, a generous cut of lamb, ice cream and a bald eagle. Afterwards, he felt bloated, but not too bloated to perform his signature role of Dominic Toretto. As Dominic, Diesel drives a car off a mountain, drives a car through several Abu Dhabi skyscrapers, killing various pedestrians in the process, and finally drives a car off a ramp into a helicopter. He survives all these collisions without any medical attention whatsoever. You will be forgiven for asking yourself the following question, the same question Jon Hamm's wife asks herself on a hourly basis: "Is he bragging?"

Diesel's head looks like it is on the verge of expanding so far sideways that he will become a deft mixture of Juggernaut and Stevie Van Zandt. Shortly before Vin drives that car into the helo, a CGI representation of Paul Walker fights an Asian guy. Walker's scenes were assembled by cutting in other scenes from the movie, using his brothers as  stunt doubles and copious CGI. The end result is both technically impressive and entirely lacking, since it looks as close as it can to real while we know it is fake. The Uncanny Valley was the original nickname for Diesel at Harvard.

The right move would have been to kill off Paul Walker's character, to show that insane stunts with vehicles, and often just regular driving, can frequently lead to death. Then again, watching Diesel grunt his way through a dense forest in a muscle car while Jason Statham's face looks like an emote is probably enough of a PSA instructing us that no one should ever get behind the wheel again.

The recent analysis of the Furious 7 audience proved that the massive audience for these films is mainly non-white. Furious 7 is a lot more about class, however, attempting to prove that a professional behavior and attitude is not necessarily the best way of accomplishing our goals as a society. About an hour into the movie, Kurt Russell, 64, shows up as if to put the exclamation point on this moving theme.


Kurt's skin looks like a sesame bagel, and he is weirdly miscast in a Judi Dench-like role. Besides the incredibly unversatile Statham, the only other villain of any interest is portrayed by Djimon Hounsou, 50. Because he is the sole person in the cast with even the most basic level of acting ability, he sticks out like a sore thumb and sounds ridiculous.

Furious 7 begins when Statham mails a bomb to Vin's house. No one dies (no one ever dies in this movie, they only perish off screen from its themes and poor performances), but Vin is extremely upset. He visits his friend Hobbs in the hospital (a steroid-infected Dwayne Johnson) who gives him instructions on how to avenge The Rock's broken arm.


Vin, his amnesia-stricken GF (Michelle Rodriguez, 36, looking embarrassed to be a part of this) and his friends Ludacris and Tyrese all drop out of an airplane, already in their cars, into Azerbaijan. They land on a steep mountain road. Paul Walker almost dies right then by falling off a cliff, but Michelle drives the back of her car over the edge so he has something to grab onto. "Thank you," he says.


Between action sequences director James Wan includes lengthy phone conversations between Paul Walker and his wife Mia (Jordana Brewster, 34) about how she is pregnant and wants him to be home with her instead of driving around with his friends. In context, this comes off as a criticism of Paul for not spending enough time with his family, and instead hanging around Vin Diesel's rapidly expanding neck all the time.

About fifty percent of Diesel's dialogue is even audible at all, which explains why David Twohy barely had him say a word for the entire first hour of Riddick. Diesel, 47, can barely pull off the climactic fight scene with Statham on the roof of a parking garage, and Statham himself is starting to look a bit slow at the same age.

Things get even worse in Furious 7's finale, however, as after we watch CGI Paul Walker silently play on the beach with a young boy who is not his own, the movie yields to a montage of Walker's scenes from the previous films. All those memorable moments are recalled, like that time he drove a car, and slept with Vin's sister at least twice.

"You're not going to say goodbye?" Michelle Rodriguez asks Vin as the sack of meat strolls off the beach and bracingly lowers himself into yet another vehicle. He tells her that it's never goodbye, implying that he will see Paul again in the afterlife. (There is no way that gasbag is going to heaven if he keeps making these pieces of shit.)

Vin pulls up at a stop sign after that, and who but Paul Walker should pull up alongside him? Yes, they made a street race into the last scene of their movie, played over sappy music about how much they miss their friend. At first I was disgusted and appalled, but then the words "For Paul" were draped over a beautiful white light. Would "Fuck You Paul" have been more appropriate considering the overall tastelessness of this tribute? Sure.

Alex Carnevale is the editor of This Recording.

"Shadow Preachers" - Zella Day (mp3)

"Sweet Ophelia" - Zella Day (mp3)

Wednesday
Mar202013

In Which It Is Considered The Definitive Version Of Paul Walker

Burnt Rubber

by MAXWELL NEELY-COHEN

Right now, as of press time, the fictional Paul Walker stock (symbol: PWALK) is valued at $118.93 a share on the play money Hollywood Stock Exchange. For reference, Leonardo DiCaprio (LDCAP) is valued at $109.22, Ryan Reynolds (RREYN) is at $52.82, George Clooney (GCLOO) is at $55.39, Ben Affleck (BAFFL) is at $53.79, and Ryan Gosling (RGOSL) is at $39.83.

Also, right now, as of press time, Paul Walker has never been the singular leading actor in a movie of note.

In 1998, in black and white, this was the moment Paul Walker pseudo-arrived. Despite his career as a childhood actor and model, it didn’t happen until Pleasantville, when Reese Witherspoon saw him drive up in his car and stopped her time-space continuum, I’m-trapped-in-a-tv-show freakout, and then asked in a teenage daze - “Who’s that?”

Our first image of him was as Skip Martin, the star (white) basketball player in the All-American problemless Chamber of Commerce (white) town. Oh! Gee! Skip Martin! He’s so swell! Little did they know that in Pleasantville, Skip Martin was patient zero. Even though he did not let himself go Technicolor until the climax, he was the first infected, the start of the outbreak, the vector, the drawbridge that had been left down.

Within a few months, Skip Martin gave way to Lance Harbor, the All-Star QB1 of West Canaan’s Coyotes in 1999’s Varsity Blues. Even in a setting five decades later Paul Walker got to be the jock chosen one immortalized on the giant sign planted in the front lawn, number 7 in your programs and number one in Ali Larter’s heart. Late 90s Paul Walker was made to play your platonic ideal of the high school god-king starting quarterback. He was crafted for it, yanked out of the sod of Friday night lit fields across SEC and PAC-10 states. In Varsity Blues, even crippled on crutches with his performance relegated to mystic teenage coach status, the Paul Walker of 1999 was at home using the last seconds of halftime in the championship game to implement a high-powered passing offense that would make the 2010 Oregon Ducks jealous.

The look of elation present on his face as he signals in a hook and lateral to be the final play of the game cannot just belong to the character of Lance Harbor. The real Paul Walker seems like the type of guy who would call trick plays in high stakes situations. If he was coaching your children’s peewee football team (and such a thing might just happen to you one day), with four seconds left on the clock he’d find the most ridiculous farce in the playbook, glare at the parents on the opposing sideline, adjust his baseball cap, and give a little smirk as he directed your local neighborhood 8 year olds to unleash mischief on their poor opponents.

Paul Walker’s final portrayal of a teenager came in She’s All That, you know, that movie where we’re supposed to believe that Freddie Prinze Jr. and Jodi Lyn O’Keefe are somehow the king and queen of a high school also attended by Gabrielle Union and Usher.

As an adolescent devil named Dean Sampson Jr., Paul Walker became a Satan disguised as blonde snake holding a poisoned apple to poor artsy Rachel Leigh Cook. He was a walking, talking plot device, the only actor portraying an actor. He was the force moving the script along, clandestinely chain-smoking in half of his scenes, delivering lines like “Hey, guys, check it. Guess who jammed a 30 year-old flight attendant at 25,000 feet en route to Cancun?” and “Well, well, well, check who’s back from spring break… looking all fine and shit.” All a respite from endless shots of Freddie Prinze Jr. trying his hardest to emote confusion.

For his hard work, Paul Walker was given the title of teenage hunk. It was his picture ripped out from a magazine that hung in the 6th grade locker of a lesbian friend of mine. He was the perfect beard in middle school.

In the final act of his preamble worthy of mention, Paul Walker starred opposite Joshua Jackson in the non-canon Yale-as-opposed-to-Harvard The Social Network prequel The Skulls. Paul Walker got to be Caleb Mandrake, that rich kid who exclusively has threesomes and forgets whom he has dated and loses his keys to his secret societies (probably because they are so various). Caleb was an expert duelist, a marksman, and a murderer. It might be, in terms of acting, the role most removed from Paul Walker’s actual experience. You see Paul Walker is really Paul Walker IV, son of Paul Walker III, a sewer contractor instead of a senator (though this particular sewer contractor married a model).

After graduating high school, Paul Walker IV bounced around several Golden State community colleges taking marine biology classes. It wouldn’t be surprising to find out that he had not set foot in the state of Connecticut before shooting The Skulls (which was filmed in Toronto). It wouldn’t be surprising to find out that Paul Walker has never set foot in the state of Connecticut. In fact, to this day there’s little photographic evidence showing him in states other than California.

Regardless, it’s there in fake Canadian Connecticut at that fake Canadian Yale while playing a badly drawn caricature of a Bush that for the first time we see him get behind the wheel of a very fast car.

Film franchises don’t just accidentally gross $1,600,000,000.

The Fast and the Furious and its sequels have thrived by surfing the faultlines of a degenerating American monoculture. One can argue that the first film, released in a pre-9/11 2001, was pop culture’s first glimpse of a different America, a twisted version of Obama’s America, a demographic reality which has since come to be and thoroughly scared the shit out of Republicans everywhere. The Fast and the Furious depicts an urbanized country where whites are The Man and the minority, Latinos are the plurality, and blacks and Asians are competing forces of cultural production in a hypercapitalistic free-for-all. In the films sequels, the United States is just another country, exceptionalism be damned.

In that world, even as it morphs from film to film, Paul Walker’s character Brian O’Conner occupies an identity space that we haven’t even invented a term for yet. Whenever Channing Tatum is asked by an interviewer how he learned how to dance, he says that he grew up in a predominantly Latin place where he was sick of being the awkward white kid who couldn’t dance at all the quinceañeras.

Though we never see the specifics, a similar backstory must be responsible for why Brian O’Conner knows how to drive the way he does.

The sort of street racing culture promoted in the first three films has a reach which lessens as you go up the socio-economic ladder. This is because it takes a special kind of rich white kid to decide that a custom Nissan or Subaru is more appealing than daddy’s Maserati. And while the sequels racked up and the successive volumes became replacements for the 90s action effectfests of Schwarzenegger or Stallone instead of films about racing or import culture, the undercurrents are irremovable. They all still center on the car, the enduring American symbol, now globalized by fetishism for superior imports or honored in nostalgia for a previous period of domestically produced muscle.

Brian O’Conner is a street racer turned LAPD cop turned an FBI agent turned turncoat- a runaway, a vagabond, a master criminal who ends up co-leading a crew that includes ex-Mossad babes and Tokyo drug dealers. He is the hook studio executives toss to white America (and female America) so they’ll buy a ticket.

Paul Walker a.k.a. Brian O’Conner. Vin Diesel’s best friend and Jordana Brewster’s babydaddy. An American you know and love.

The real Paul Walker uses the twitter handle: @RealPaulWalker. The Real Paul Walker was raised Mormon and has a 14 year old daughter. The Real Paul Walker surfs, backpacks, hunts, tracks, fishes, snowboards, races competitively, and holds a brown belt in Brazilian jiu-jistu. He does all of these things as if his only goal in life is to become the 90s subcultural version of the Übermensch. He posts photos of his global adventures on his website, flash enabled galleries with black and white versions of his arcing forever-tan biceps holding up a surfboard over his scruff-laden chin as background. He plays frisbee on the beach. He jumps out of helicopters onto snowy peaks. If you study The Fast and the Furious movies closely enough, you’ll notice that as they progress, the more often The Real Paul Walker is flaunting the insurance companies and driving the cars instead of a stuntman. The Real Paul Walker has several dogs. He visits baby lions in nature preserves. He takes relief trips when there are earthquakes.

When you watch enough galley interviews of Paul Walker you start to realize that despite his Californian drawl and cliché  ridden answers to cliché ridden questions, he has a surprisingly expansive vocabulary that functions in direct opposition to the stereotypes he represents. As if on some Joycian mission he rarely uses the same word twice, finding synonyms on the fly and following nouns with verbs you aren’t quite expecting. Even while discussing the most mundane topics possible he builds shrinking towers of dependent clauses separated by dashes, all marked by a minimalism worthy of Raymond Carver. When exiting that hypnotic youtube trance caused by watching hours of press conference pre-release dialogues, you wonder, what is going on in that head of his? Who is playing whom? Which Paul Walker is the Real Paul Walker? Is there any difference?

“They try to neuter you as much as you can,” The Real Paul Walker tells a galley interviewer, “And not to pat myself on the back too much but there are, quite frankly, a lot of things I can do better than some of the stuntmen, a lot of the stuntmen, there are certain guys we bring in as specialists, that say are really good at this, or good at that, but my lifestyle, the way that I was raised and playing all the sports and doing everything that I did, I like to consider myself a pretty physical and athletic guy.”

The only thing stranger than Paul Walker’s status as movie star is Paul Walker’s status as sex symbol. Paul Walker will never be People's Sexiest Man Alive. His only appearance in their Most Beautiful issue came in the 2002 edition. The internet is not littered with memes predicated on his hotness. Yet every video clip where he is the subject, every blog post featuring his picture, is littered with comments unilaterally declaring his sexiness: the digital equivalent of panties thrown onstage at a rock show.

Whereas Clooney, Gosling, Tatum, Efron, DiCaprio, et al are or were supermassive celestial objects that generate heat smashing into the atmospheric zeitgeist at apocalyptic velocities, Paul Walker is something else... He is background radiation. He’s the smoldering remnants of the American prettyboy ideal from back when it was exemplified by Abercrombie models playing football shirtless on beaches on the 4th of July. An artifact from the land before fixed gear bikes, Kardashians, and Prii, before teenage tumblrs covered in naked girls wearing Supreme accessories and A$AP Rocky holding court like he actually is a young American royal (and who’s to say he isn’t).

The Real Paul Walker will soon turn 40.

In the coming year he will finally get a movie to call his own, portraying a father trying to save his newborn daughter when Hurricane Katrina kills the generators in a New Orleans hospital.

And in the coming year Paul Walker will once again get behind the wheel.

Maxwell Neely-Cohen is the senior contributor to This Recording. He is a writer living in New York. You can find his website here, and his twitter here. He last wrote in these pages about the safe haven.

"Locked In The Basement" - The Boxer Rebellion (mp3)

Thursday
May122011

In Which We Make A Better Special Agent Than You Ever Did

Dome Versus Dome

by LAUREN BANS

Fast Five
dir. Justin Lin
130 minutes

Fast and the Furious movies are like animal videos on the Internet, and not only because Paul Walker's face looks like an LOLcat. A few years ago a clip of a single puppy licking its paws was enough to trigger a dopamine rush, but after 100 million hours of sweet-faced animals on YouTube the brain requires more stimulation to incite the same kick.

Now it takes something more ambitious, some novel clafoutis of cute, like a Golden Retriever puppy spooning a handicapped cheetah at a kindergarten choir concert to suffice.

"don't use bing!"It's the same logic behind what dudes who never get laid call the "strange pussy theory," as well as the growing spectacle of the Fast and the Furious franchise. Whereas a couple drag races did the trick in the first installment, Fast Five opens with cars soaring off a moving train, a bunch of roid-raging beefcakes in fisticuffs, a gas tank explosion, and Paul Walker and Vin Diesel doing Olympic 10 dives off a bridge. This is all within the first 15 minutes.

The original cast escapes to Rio de Janeiro for this one, where the plan is to lay low for awhile. But that’s not much of a movie so Vin says, "One more job, and then we're done forever" which is as believable as when I say "One more cookie, and then I'm putting them away for the night." The hit is on Reyes, a corrupt business man who controls the favelas and forces his lady workers to wear bikinis all day while they bind his money, unlike Vin Diesel’s lady workers who just wear bikinis all day of their own volition.

First the fast, furious crew invades one of Reyes' warehouses and burns the money to show their mission is not just about bank, there's some larger, albeit vague moral battle they're waging, despite the fact they cause countless Rio cops to drive into walls and stuff. Then they go after the money. Unfortunately the movie went for a PG-13 rating so there is no real sex to behold, but there is a wrestling match between Vin and The Rock so intimate it is impossible to discern where one bald dome ends and the other begins.

There are some cars in this movie. They don't morph into Autobots, but they do everything else and eye blow you in the process, enough to make you question your donation to Coalition for Alternative Transportation. Director Justin Lin smartly plays Vin Diesel's acting inability for laughs rather than accolades. And there are a few choice slow-mo moments - one where beads of sweat soar from Vin Diesel's cheek as it accepts a punch, the other when The Rock’s inhumanely massive face menaces some wee bad guys with a constipated glare - that are basically just animated gifs made before the Internet could do it.

Combine that with a script in which 90 percent of the lines uttered could be movie poster taglines, along with non-stop metal acrobatics, explosions, and gun play. There's not much to take away from the experience. But there’s nothing to dislike about it either.

Lauren Bans is the senior contributor to This Recording. She is a writer living in Brooklyn. You can find an archive of her work on This Recording here. You can find her website here, and she twitters here. She last wrote in these pages about waxing.

"This Charming Man (Smiths cover)" - Death Cab for Cutie (mp3)

"Love Song (Cure cover)" - Death Cab for Cutie (mp3)

"I Wanna Be Adored (Stone Roses cover)" - Death Cab for Cutie (mp3)