Just got back from The Fillmore, where I saw Har Mar Superstar and Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

I’ve always been up front on my interest in the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Their guitarist, Nick Zinner, is beautiful. That said, I really do like their music, but my interest was first and foremost, Nick.

He is the type that always just kills me. The whole introspective, art school, fey, goth boy. Toss in his piled-on hair, high cheekbones, and angular chin, and I’m sold. And, let’s not even get into how hot it is to get that combination and add the ability to shred electric guitar for a living, while still being a photography geek.

So, when it came time to go to the Fillmore, I staked my claim. Everyone was clamoring to get over to the center, in front of their frontwoman, Karen, who gets most of the attention. But for me, I was off to the right, in front of the guitar amps, in front of Nick. Now, I didn’t travel around the floor much, but there were certainly a lot of gay boys in my area, although I cannot say if we were all gravitating to Nick or there were just a lot of gay boys in general at the show. But, you know, good to see the gay boys out at the rock shows, now if I could only add some of this elite cadre to my base of friends.

Show was great, and Nick’s live stuff wasn’t as complex as I had thought. Like, for Rich, he just starts a sampled loop with the plucked notes and then chords over it. His demeanor is serious for most of the show, although he is the only person playing chords, bass lines, keyboards, and melodies, with the drummer keeping a beat under it. And Maps, the fast one-note thing at the beginning is just looped live, and then he plays over it. That said, he is still a whirlwind of sound and I suppose if the guitarist didn’t look like Nick I would (hope I) still think he was pretty talented.

Karen is the diva of the group, and I’m not sure what to think of her. Her voice was great and she certainly wasn’t phoning it in (possibly due to yet another concert at the Fillmore being filmed, this time for a concert DVD. Rufus was filming his there last week, as well). But her stage demeanor is just not my thing. Like when one song was starting, she goes offstage, comes back out with potato chips, and starts dumping them on her head as the song begins, then drops the bag, and lets the chips, err, fall where they may as she begins the song. If you cloned and combined Marilyn Manson, Annie Lennox, and Chrissy Hynde, you would get Karen. It was just a bit too showy, “look-at-me” constantly. Drinking and letting the water drip out of her mouth. Falling onto the stage. Pulling tin foil out of her ripped fishnets, pretending to (or actually) chew it, and then putting it over the microphone, only to whip it off when it was time to sing. I did think she was more fun than I had anticipated, having a good time, but there were a few too many demented cheerleader moments for me. We get it. You like to be the center of attention.

Not that I gave in, of course. I watched Nick for much of the show.

After the show, I even hung out to get my poster signed, which I haven’t done in forever. And, as I could have predicted, his guitars aren’t big at all, he’s just that small. Even with his huge pile of hair, I’m a good head taller than him. He’s just a little frail thing. Hot, but definitely more reality than I needed. You can’t usually tell onstage. His eyes lit up when instead of people using ugly pens for him to sign posters, I said I had a silver paint pen. He immediately turned around, locked eyes with me, and said “Yes!” as though there were no other option if such a perfect implement was among us, and proceeded to give everyone a nice clear silver signature, well, foras much of his name as he spells out anyway. Good Ns and Zs anyway.

Karen came out of the Fillmore wearing a bathrobe with a full entourage, and said she would only sign one autograph, saying she didn’t want it to turn into “a circus.” The circus, I’m assuming, meaning she would have to sign all nine posters of the people who remained? (the rest already drifted off quickly, as they are playing again tomorrow, so people said get signatures then).

I’m still not sure what it is about that whole type that I’m into, the frail, wispy, gothy, cheekbony thing. It certainly exists. Not sure what the origin is. Nick didn’t come across as gay at all, and Karen mentioned him looking for girls earlier, so who knows. I didn’t ask. But, it’s never really been about Nick specifically. He’s just indicative of something larger.

Why I killed 4 hours watching the Oscars and not working on my book will not be explored here, although it is a good question. I certainly gained nothing from watching the ceremony, aside from being further convinced that I just dislike Lord of the Rings.

But, it is certainly telling that my issues with the movie(s) are that they are just big effects movies with no substance, point, or character development, and then they are up for all the major awards except in acting categories, which seems to reinforce that. It wins best effects, best cinematography, but not only did no actors win, none were nominated.

Truth be told, I didn’t see the latest LOTR movie, because, frankly, I had enough after two. Actually, I had enough after one, but then I kept hearing so many things about it being so amazing and the height of film making, so I went back again. Twenty minutes in two towers, I wished I knew what time other films in the multiplex were starting, as I already knew it was going to suck as hard as the first.

I think it comes down to the fact that I don’t like fantasy or comics, and I never played dungeons and dragons. I like the first three Star Wars movies, but they are basically westerns set in space, not to mention, all of the battle sequences were set up better, they made more sense, and you learned about the characters even when they were in battles.

But, now that computers have taken over, we get Spiderman, the first super hero movie where the alter ego is more exciting to watch on screen than when he is Spiderman. It seemed like a movie with XBox game previews intermingled, as soon as he became Spiderman, the film just became watching somebody play a videogame, as just as interesting as watching someone play a videogame.

Even Harry Potter, which is entertaining, still kind of leaves me flat in the cinema, although I will admit to liking it better as a book. It is just big sequence after big sequence after big sequence, but none of them let me learn more about Harry, Ron, Hermione, or anyone else. There’s a dog on the door to where we have to go, so we have to get around it. There are flying things that are the keys to the lock to get to the door, etc., etc. Only when there are no events to we learn about the characters, build their relationships. But whereas Harry Potter and Spiderman at least give me a good time at the movie theater, despite no major takeaways afterward, Lord of the Rings has me looking at my watch.

First of all, the movies have no characters I cared about. (Please note the personal qualifier. If you cared about them, good for you. I have been in way too many LOTR debates where there is only one correct path, loving the movies and the person who dislikes them being wrong. Sorry, I don’t like them.) I think my main problem with them is that nearly every sequence can be lifted and removed from the movie, and you’d never notice because no character develops greatly because of the action. Compared to Star Wars, where Darth Vader is every bit as compelling as Obi-Wan, to the digital armies battling the forces of good over the fate of Middle Earth (even that sentence makes me cringe), and there is no comparison. It is always more interesting when we empathize with one side, but understand the other, and in LOTR, we get neither. If Frodo or Legalos get killed in any of the battles, I wouldn’t have shrieked in peril, except for the fact that some of the cute people wouldn’t be a pleasant eye-candy distraction from the rest of the movie I had yet to endure.

I also disliked the entire clichéd set-up whereby they all decide the only way to get rid of the ring will have to take them through the Meadow of Sneer (or whatever dumb name everything had), and everyone always looks distraught except the one guy who, for the sake of the audience, has never heard of it and must ask: “What’s the Meadow of Sneer?” and then all the others give each other a look like “Can you believe this kid never heard of the Meadow of Sneer?” and then relents and tells him what is in the meadow they must cross. Of course, every time this happens, exactly what they say is in the meadow is there waiting, and 20 minutes later and millions of dollars of CGI later, they emerge from the Meadow of Sneer, one step closer to getting rid of the ring. Except, had there been no Meadow of Sneer, it wouldn’t have mattered. Nothing happened in the meadow or during the battle that changed any of the characters; it was distraction masquerading as story. But, it sure looked pretty.

That is, in a nutshell, the LORT trilogy to me, or at least the two-thirds I saw: a bunch of characters I don’t care about, spending most of their time doing things that don’t advance the character development or the story, where good is just understood and evil is just a murky CGI force with no personality, and somehow when you add all that up, I’m supposed to care? Sorry, not happening.

At least Lost in Translation said something unique. It wasn’t an epic, just a small personal movie about disconnectedness and lives intersecting. I wasn’t sure about it when I saw it in the theater, but it got under my skin. There was something there. I rented the DVD and liked it a little more, and it still resonates with me somehow. I will go back again, no doubt, and see if anything more is revealed, but even if I never find answers, at least it is making me ask questions. And it didn’t take hundreds of CGIs effects to do it.

That is the new Hollywood, though. There are going to be $150 million movies and $10 million movies, and I’m sure I’ll be gravitating to the latter more often. Hopefully, the Academy Awards get back to that as well. We need to stop giving awards for the men who play retarded and the women who go ugly every time, and become less predictable.

In my novel, there are clear sequences, things that lift out of the narrative of the book and take on their own life, but one of my goals is to always link those to character. I may fail, but damn, I’m certainly going to keep trying. That’s all I can do.