The Finch at the Feeder

Here's the preface to this post: I adore Ricky Gervais. I'm a huge fan of The Office and of Extras, and his stand-up is some of the best I've ever seen. I laugh like a moron watching this guy. Ghost World suffered from so-so writing, but Gervais' performance made me glad I watched it.


The Invention of Lying is Gervais' cinematic directorial debut. I wanted it to be a lot of things, but here's what it was (pseudo-spoilers to follow):

First 25 minutes or so: People making fun of Gervais with straight faces because, you see, they can't lie. There is also a hilarious Coke commercial.

Next 30 minutes or so: Gervais learns to lie, tricks people into doing stuff. Cue the unnecessary celebrity cameos.

Next 35 minutes or so: Gervais pokes easy fun at the most elementary of religious principles.

Final 10 minutes: Abrupt, cheesy ending. Credits.


Now you say, Andrew, you can't possibly sum up the whole movie that quickly, dismissing an entire work with just a few quips. You cannot oversimplify! Oh, but dear reader, I can. Because Gervais and Matthew Robinson, who co-wrote, did exactly that. They did it to their premise, they did it to Christianity, and they did it to their audience.

Gervais and Robinson committed the great sin of underestimating their viewers. Gervais offering up a one-note joke of a movie like this is the cinematic equivalent of buying your best girl gas station flowers for Valentine's Day. The awkwardly-placed cameos by all my favorite actors (Hoffman, Norton, Fey, Bateman, Bill from Freaks and Geeks) only made it worse. You know when a baby is crying and screaming, so you grab the closest toy, shake it in front of them and say, in your best high-pitched voice: look at the elephant! Look at this elephant! ?

It felt like that. And it pissed me of as much now as it did back then. Man, did I hate that. I'd poop down my own leg for revenge every time.



Anyway. I think the part that bothered me most, that pushed me over the ledge of annoyed and into the sea of offended was the film's treatment of Western religion. I'm no enemy of religious satire or parody, honest. Gervais is a proud atheist, and I get that. I respect it. But if you're going to point and laugh at something for half a movie, at least acknowledge some of its depth and complexity.

See, the Bible is pretty problematic. It provides an unlimited wealth of material for doubters, comedians and stoned agnostics to debate, denigrate, and disrespect. When you go further than that, and start delving into church dogma, religious zealots, and DC Talk's early stuff, even steadfast believers have to admit that Christianity can be pretty damn ridiculous.

Instead, the film's laugh factor hinges on this idea: that a "man in the sky" controls everything, that if you do 3 bad things you go to a bad place, but if you are good you go to a good place and get a mansion. Oh, and Gervais grows a beard so that he kinda looks like chubby Jesus. This alone seems to be the extent of the writers' understanding of religion.

Most religious people I know (even the close-minded jerks) moved past that kind of thinking when they were around five. If you're committed to lampooning an entire system of belief, at least give credit where credit is due. If you believe that all of religion is a lie told by one hapless idiot, at least admit that it's a terribly complex lie, one that means a great deal to a great many people. Christianity--true Christianity--is not a religion for the immature or the simple. It is actually quite challenging. And Gervais makes it look like a collection of dunces.

When people attack Christians this way, they remind me of Glenn Beck. And of Rush Limbaugh. And of all the dopes they hate because they speak out against something that they do not understand.


Also, and finally: this movie had some very clever moments, but it should have been much funnier. The premise had tons of possibility, Gervais was at the helm, and apparently every great actor currently working wanted in on it. Instead, what we got is something very few of us would want to pay for: an 18.5 million dollar anti-Christian statement. One which, instead of making an argument or delivering good comedy, muddled in the middle of the two, winking and nudging all the way to the lukewarm end.

My new favorite humor website is Conservapedia. Seriously, these guys are hilarious. I'm not sure who is behind it, but they're giving Stephen Colbert a run for his money with their ludicrous portrayal of the "crazy right."

The jokes start right off the bat: they dub themselves "The Trustworthy Encyclopedia." This is a gut-buster for a number of reasons. The first is that the site works exactly like Wikipedia, meaning anyone can edit almost any article as he or she sees fit. I just wrote that Ronald Reagan is "known by many of his followers as 'Jesus II'." Boy, do I love satire! The second is that they present the looniest claims that right wing dolts make as encyclopedic fact. According to Conservapedia, Barack Hussein Obama (haha, they insist on using his middle name, just like the dummies!) is a false name. He's also foreign-born, a mobster, an acceptor of fraudulent cash, a fetus-eater, etc. They even say that he used mind control to be elected! A crackup--Not even Hannity claims that! The whole format is comic genius; it is almost as if people actually believe this stuff!

Hmm? What? No, no...seriously?

OK. I'm being told that this website is not a joke. Conservapedia was, in fact, set up to "combat the liberal bias of Wikipedia." And claims like "Sarah Palin was attacked by the press on a level not since Dan Quayle...but she ultimately handled it much better," are certainly illustrative of an unbalanced, straightforward point of view.

Sick. OK. This website is still a gut-buster, but now it's dark humor. Ultra-dark. We're talking a-magician's-inside-pocket dark. O.J.-on-the-cover-of-TIME dark. We're talking Very Bad Things style funny here. And now I'm conflicted.

See, I want to keep browsing, so that I can find more gems like this image of a woman's ultrasound, which she and Conservapedia believe to be not a baby, as one would expect, but instead an image of Jesus Christ, pleading the mother not to abort. (I'm so glad someone is finally presenting unbiased information!)

On the other hand, every time I click on a new guffaw-inspiring article, I'm boosting their hits. This could cause the psychos behind this stuff to believe that they have more supporters than they actually do, which could lead to more funding for them, more advertising for them, and bragging rights at their wacky gatherings.

The same thing is true for everyone who watches The O'Reilly factor just for yucks. I mean, I understand, the guy is hilariously doltish, but check the highlights on Youtube or something, geez. Otherwise, when you hear that he's got 2.5 million viewers every time he's on, you have to remember that you're part of the problem.




PS: If you need any more proof that Conservapedia is run by the seriously deranged, check this: they're rewriting the Bible. As it turns out, the Good Book has a huge liberal bias, too.

[Edit: I started this entry on Wednesday, September 30, and couldn't think of a good punchline to a joke that appears below. I put the entry on hold until today, so all of my readers would know how funny I truly am.]


Last night, Andrew Bird and St. Vincent played at The Murat downtown, and it was stellar. It has been a long time since a show really hit me, but this one did, in a big way.

Annie Clark, who basically is St. Vincent (sorry, other dudes who were there), is, as my hot fiancee put it, "fucking hot." She's not exactly my type (she's kind of a waif, and I'm into curves), but she does have some serious stage presence that demands your attention. I know for a fact that Stevi would run away with her in a heartbeat, and I guess I understand. She looks like a cross between Christina Ricci in That Darn Cat and Helena Bonham Carter in everything (except her stint on Miami Vice)--in other words, a Tim Burton cocktail. On the albums, St. Vincent is a by-the-book boxer: form and beauty mixed with calculated, effective punches. Live, they're more like a half-drunk street brawler--they come out swinging and never really stop. Their newest, Actor, released earlier this year.

When Andrew Bird took the stage, it was immediately obvious why he and Clark are touring together. This lanky gentleman treats his violin like a lover, from gentle caresses to--you know--the rough stuff. He alternately plucked, bowed, and straight up ravaged his instrument, and even took some time out to pick up a guitar or two as well. His extensive use of a loop pedal was surprising but fascinating, and he's got a voice like the purring engine of a European sports car. He also whistles. Save for his haunting version of "Why?" from his Andrew Bird's Bowl of Fire days, he was at his best with his backing band (Martin Dosh, Jeremy Ylvisaker, and Mike Lewis), who ably kept up with Bird's passion, energy and musical godishness.

To summarize, you simply must go see Andrew Bird and St. Vincent if you have the opportunity. They are two artists that represent a (sadly) dwindling type of performer, the kind whose live shows transcend their already-great recorded work, illustrating the line between performance and experience.

Making a Molotov cocktail is easy. Remember to tape the top and you're golden--the bottles break without much effort, just like us. Even without experience, you could have a batch in the time it takes to brush your teeth.

Resist this urge. The chuck will feel righteous, but the aftermath will make you an ash--a single ash in an evidence bag full of ashes, the investigators taking you wherever they like.

Instead, paint a still life. The dust-covered oak, the rotten pears, the fruit flies with their buzz. Paint a crack in the bowl that holds it all together. Mute the colors. Step back. The finished product should look like an apology.

Stare at it for a while before you strike the match. When the first corner catches fire, you might smile. Keep staring. The table, the rot, the buzz--it's all yours

and it's almost gone.