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A couple of posts ago, I mentioned that Woody Allen’s films have sucked for more than a decade now. Last night, Amy & I watched Sweet and Lowdown, and enjoyed the heck out of it. Samantha Morton was just impossibly good, the music was great, and the fact that there was no “Woody” character in it was refreshing. Sure, the “I’m an artist, so I can’t be tied down” shtick was a little cartoony, but Sean Penn’s character didn’t need that sort of depth.

So I stand corrected: Not all of Woody Allen’s post-1989 flicks have been awful.

But I still can’t sit through more than 90 seconds of Curse of the Jade Scorpion.

Great article from Virginia Postrel in the NYTimes today about New Year’s resolutions:

In the early 1980’s, [Nobel economics laureate] Professor Schelling applied similar analysis to individuals’ internal struggles, seeking to develop what he called “strategic egonomics, consciously coping with one’s own behavior, especially one’s conscious behavior.”

The problem, he suggested, is that pretty much everybody suffers from a split personality. One self desperately wants to lose weight or quit smoking or run two miles a day or get up early to work. The other wants dessert or a cigarette, hates exercise or loves sleep.

Both selves are equally valid, and equally rational about pursuing their desires. But they do not exist at the same time.

[. . .]New Year’s resolutions help the earlier self overrule the later one by raising the cost of straying. “More is threatened by failure than just the substance of the resolution: one’s personal constitution is violated, confidence demoralized, and the whole year spoiled [. . .]”

So there! Read it all!

(I just read Postrel’s The Future and Its Enemies last week. It’s a heck of a book, when it comes to identifying the shifting alliances of political ideology and the perniciousness of technocrats. I recommend it highly.)

I’m not sure what resolutions I can make for 2006. In the past year, I read more (and more deeply) than I ever have, experienced that revelation of love that culminated in popping the question to Amy, and did all sorts of charitable activity. I didn’t write as much as I want, so maybe that oughtta be it.

My big project (and those never work out for me, so it’s silly of me to mention it) is to read a lot about urban planning and city dynamics, to get a better idea about the historical development of American cities. If that leads to an essay of some kind, you’ll be the first to know.

Another resolution: I resolve to revamp my music-oriented Mad Mix blog and post more often. I have some ideas for a new graphic layout for it, and a way of making sure there’s a substantive post at least once a week, but it’s a matter of execution (as ever).

Here’s yet more Proust, quoting a doctor:

“Everything we think of as great has come to us from neurotics. It is they and they alone who found religions and create great works of art. The world will never realise how much it owes to them, and what they have suffered in order to bestow their gifts on it. We enjoy fine music, beautiful pictures, a thousand exquisite things, but we do not kow what they cost those who wrought them in insomnia, tears, spasmodic laughter, urticaria, asthma, epilepsy, a terror of death which is worse than any of these, and which you perhaps have experienced, Madame.”

That said, Woody Allen’s films have sucked for more than a decade now.

New Year’s Eve is usually a time of reflection and drunkenness, dear readers, and I hope you all engage in plenty of both tonight. I’ll do a little reflecting right now, but no drinking, since it’s morning and I allegedly have standards.

The official VM fiancée & I are heading over to Café Matisse tonight for a five-course New Year’s dinner. It’s an early meal, so we’ll have time to get hammered at home tonight. Last year, we watched the first two Lord of the Rings flicks before the clock struck 12. We’ll have less movie-time this year, so we might just groove with Sun Ra instead.

Tomorrow, we’ll go to Princeton for our traditional New Year’s Day get-together with our friend Cecily, who will likely grill Amy about all sorts of wedding plans. We’re still trying to figure out what (if anything) I oughtta get engraved on my wedding ring. It won’t be this.

How would you go about recapping a year of your life? The gist of mine: helped Dad deal with / recover from heart surgery; proposed to Amy; read Proust; walked around a near-empty city.

There are plenty of other details, many of which you longtime readers have been subjected to: bought her a ring; gained new perspective on 9/11; bought a giant TV; saw a world of comics-geeks; moved this blog to a new provider, then a new platform; visited Cracker Biodome; watched Ric Burns’ 8-part documentary about New York City; read plenty of other writers. There’s more for a recording angel to catch up with, but there’s only so much room for memories. Sez Marcel:

If the name, Duchesse de Guermantes, was for me a collective name, it was not so merely in history, by the accumulation of all the women who had successively borne it, but also in the course of my own short life, which had already seen, in this single Duchesse de Guermantes, so many different women superimpose themselves, each one vanishing as soon as the next had acquired sufficient consistency. Words do not change their meaning as much in centuries as names do for us in the space of a few years. Our memories and our hearts are not large enough to be able to remain faithful. We have not room enough, in our present mental field, to keep the dead there as well as the living. We are obliged to build on top of what has gone before and is brought to light only by a chance excavation, such as the name Saintraille had just opened up.

All of which isn’t to say much but Happy New Year, everyone. Live well.

What do Jews do on Christmas? According to this video from SNL, it’s a little different than my rendition of Jewish Wonderland a couple of years ago.

Speaking of videos from SNL, you should check out The Chronic of Narnia.

Our trade deficit widens.