I didn't get much done yesterday. I woke up late, re-watched episode one of Heroes (since I hadn't seen it since its first air date).
Then I made a press of coffee and a brie toastie.
And continued to watch Heroes ... I really just watched Heroes all day in my jammies until everyone else got back from the joint degree. By then I was at the latter half of the sixth episode.
Then I went out and sat in the living room in an effort to be social--but I really just felt grimy since I was still in my pajamas and everyone else was nicely dressed from being at the degree and the dinner after.
Somehow I decided that I'd go to the meeting at six, which prompted shower-time and the wearing of actual clothes. But after my shower, I was back in my room watching Heroes again until it was time to leave--because that show has me hooked.
And what did I do after we got back from the meeting? Some jump-ring attaching, the progress of which you can see here:
And more Heroes, of course, until I was completely caught up (it only took me until quarter past midnight to be right up to the point where
I love Mohinder. And Peter. And Isaac. And Hiro (but not romantically--just in the "awwww!so-adorable!" sense). And really, even Sylar is creepylove. The show is just full of ridiculously handsome men.
Then, this morning I finished watching The New Kids, which I had started watching on Saturday night after Mel had dropped me off at home. I'd paused it midway because it was giving me anxiety, and anxiety isn't something you need when you're intending to go to bed some point in the near future.
It's a really stupid movie that only affirms my loathing of small towns. And rednecks. And really, the majority of America. Actually there are a fair few movies out there that have helped this loathing grow--Snake Eater and any of its sequels (scarred, scarred for life, I was), Deliverance, and certain episodes of Highlander, The A-Team, and Renegade (actually, every other episode of Renegade).
What these films and shows teach us is this: "homeland" America is not charming. Andy and Opie are lying to you. Country-folk are retarded, inbred, crazy, and dangerous--and we're all better off avoiding them as much as may be.
I mean, I've heard Pennsyltucky, but this was Floribama. Joe-Bob and Chad-Bob (can we get some more [your name here]-Bob?) and Gideon (of course, "Gid"). And why the hell was James Spader playing a messed up hick? And blond? Why the uber-blond? Bleah.
Short summary: 1985 (that's when it was released, so I'm guessing that's the setting as well), boy and girl lose their parents in a car wreck and move in with their aunt and uncle in Bumfuck, Florida and immediately get harassed by a gang of rednecks (led by James Spader). There are fights, acts of vandalism, shootings, the setting of people on fire, electrocutions, and beheadings.
Where are the parents? It would appear that none of these assholes have parents.
And, in the end, after a super-massacre of the rednecks at the uncle's Santa's Funfair (or whatever the hell that place was called) there's only this little kid left over, and the parting shot is the boy staring creepily after "happy-ending" boy and girl driving off into town. What the hell was that supposed to be? Sequel warning? Like this slop would get a sequel?
What drove me to watch it in the first place? James Spader. And, yes, he's creepy and doesn't disappoint as a crazy villain.
I also received Dare mo shiranai (Nobody Knows) on Saturday, but between Heroes and the freaky hillbilly movie, I never got to it. I'll watch it this evening.
Oh, yeah. It's snowing.
And there was a car accident as I stepped off the T at Babcock. I didn't see it happen, but I heard the resounding *crunch* of the giant white truck smacking the little black sport car sideways. And then watched in amusement as moronic pedestrians still decided to dodge out into traffic during a green light, in spite of the obvious (as demonstrated by said car accident) slick on the road.
Massholes. But I'm not surprised.
Showing posts with label DVDs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DVDs. Show all posts
26 February 2007
holding out for a ...
12 February 2007
chibi-Strife and George the orc?
He has hair, facial features, and basic clothes. I could stop now and be perfectly satisfied with him.
No, that's a lie. I really do want to finish his clothes and other accessories. It's just taking so damn long ...
I was watching Lord of the Rings: Return of the King last night, just to watch the part with "George" the orc. No, his real character name is not George but something more fittingly Middle Earth-ish. And his IMDb title is 'Orc Lieutenant 1' ... he's best seen in the extended cut of RotK, but you can find him in the regular release during the scene where the orcs catapult the heads of the Gondor warriors over the wall. He's identifiable by the skull that he wears as a hat.
Yeah. That's Joel Tobeck again. Not that you can really tell it's him under all the orc costume, but it's the thought that counts.
But I fell asleep before that scene, and woke up again when Frodo and Gollum are fighting for the Ring over the fiery chasm and Gollum bites off Frodo's finger. That was a hell of a thing to wake up to.
29 January 2007
pure morning
Oh, this past weekend ... ~_~
And now for a more-detailed account of the weekend's events, adventures in Providence, and terrorists on skis.
Friday afternoon I left work and headed inbound, stopping at Park Street to browse through the Borders at Downtown Crossing (and apparently there's another Borders on Boylston St. now, too?). I was looking for books on doll-making (big surprise, that is) and drawing super-deformed characters (chibi!), since the human dolls I'm interested in making are of the chibi/SD variety. All around, that was a very discouraging stop, since there was really nothing I could use in stock.
Art dolls are ... interesting, but they give me the creeps. I'm not talking about sock creatures or weird animals or patch-work creations--but rather dolls like this. I recognize their art value; I can even understand why some people would want to collect and create them; but I wouldn't deal well with having one in my room. I would have Puppet Master nightmares (except that the nightmares would actually be scary rather than stupidly funny, like those movies).
From Park Street, I went to Harvard Square to visit Tokyo Kid, looking to see if they had any plushies in a discount bin; because, at a cheap enough price, I wouldn't mind buying one just to take it apart. Yes, I should've known better, really. Nothing is ever cheap at that store. Plushies of the type I was interested in were starting at $14. Yeah. No. Not for a UFO-catcher doll. Not when I've seen them on eBay for $6.
They did have how-to guides for drawing manga characters, but they weren't really what I wanted (and $20 besides); so I left without buying anything and continued on to The Coop. They were also a no-go for doll-making books, but they did have a very nice selection of manga-drawing books on the lowest shelf in their Art section. I might've bought one, but when I looked at the neverending line for the cashier, I lost my verve and opted to just go home. It was easy to do, really, since I knew I'd be spending money on Saturday. And since I went to Amazon.com, and ordered this.
And, check, spent money on Saturday. Melissa picked me up at the train station and we drove 'round to The Fabric Place and A.C. Moore. At The Fabric Place (where my head spun around and exploded upon entering--no, not really, but yikes, it's overwhelming) I bought velour in white and light gray, an evergreen suede, and a book on the basics of making soft toys. A.C. Moore had beanie babies for $4 ... yes, ashamed to say it, but I bought two: a skunk and an owl who have joined Jiji on the top of my television set. Oh! and some fat quarters in red, black, purple, and blue with different and interesting patterns.
Really, I wasn't as bad as I'd expected. The grand total could've been much worse.
After that, we went back to Melissa's to pick up Erich so we could all go to lunch. We went to The Texas Roadhouse. It's awesome. Yeah, the music is country-western, and we could all live without that, but the food ... The food is really just to-die-for. I haven't had steak in ... forever; and this was the perfect reunion for me and steak. And I ate alllll my food--and didn't really notice how full I was until it was time to get up and leave. And Mel very graciously spotted me the money for dinner again, so I really must buy her and Erich dinner next time around. I feel like a free-loader! TT_TT
Then we went back to the house for stitching and season two of Doctor Who. The six-minute segue between the end of season one and "The Christmas Invasion" (that I'd never seen before) really helps the Christmas special make more sense (so far as Rose accepting the Doctor's body-change, and how they crash). And holy crap, I love the outtakes so much. It makes me want to dress up as a cyberman and run around the Common, chasing squirrels and pigeons. Mmm. David Tennant.
And I was being productive too! I cut new arms (as I was less than pleased with my first attempt), hand-stitched them, and hand-sewed them into the torso seam, all ready to be stuffed when I got home. That doesn't seem like very much when typed out, but it took me a while to do all that. I think the biggest headache was in figuring out the placement of the arms in seams; because I wanted the seams to be perpendicular, not lined up (I like making life difficult for myself). But after they were pinned into place, it wasn't too bad.
After the Doctor Who outtakes, Mel drove me home--which was super-nice of her. And I, of course, stayed awake to stuff the doll's arms and torso, and attach the head. This was all while half-heartedly watching Icebreaker. I didn't know what the hell was happening in that movie by the time I'd finished crafting and was actually paying attention ... so I started the DVD over again from the beginning. And promptly fell asleep.
I tried to watch it again on Sunday morning. It's a really bad movie, Bruce Campbell and Sean Astin notwithstanding. A concise description of the plot idea would be "Die Hard with skis." If you think that sounds dumb, you don't know the half of it. I swear it was written by somebody (probably a former member of ski patrol) who was working at a ski resort and got bored. I can just see it:
"Oh, what if terrorists showed up?" [for no bloody reason at all] "Hmm. Yes. They need a reason to be here, don't they? ... Uhh, they've lost their nuclear weapons from Russia in a plane crash on the mountain! And the only way to get them back is to take the ski lodge hostage!" [never mind that Russia is small beans anymore, but they can't just sneak up there and get their nuclear stuff back without anybody noticing?] "No! We want this to be like Die Hard! And, instead of a cop, what if a member of the ski patrol had to save the day?" [because, you never know, it could happen] "And we can have terrorists on skis, chasing the hero down the black diamond trail!" [the terrorists know how to ski?] "Yes." [and snowboard?] "Yes!" [and shoot guns at the same time?] "YES!" [how do all the terrorists know how to ski?] "Because they do!" [and, yes, losing me ...]
You know that's how it went. Sean Astin should've known to stay away from terrorist movies after Toy Soldiers. Oh, well. In spite of its being a really dumb movie (actually, maybe because it's a really dumb movie), I did kind of enjoy it. But then I enjoyed Toy Soldiers too, and that's equally absurd.
Oh, yeah. A little after ten o'clock the doorbell rang. It was the USPS carrier. On Sunday. My package from Aranzi Aronzo had arrived--less than a week after ordering it. From Japan. And on a Sunday. The EMS packaging boasts: "fastest International delivery." I think they've earned that boast. I really didn't expect it to arrive that fast.
The book is beautiful and chock full of visual instructions that make it really easy to follow along. And the fact that I can read katakana helps a bit too.
On the invoice somebody wrote a small note in very neat (and somewhat broken) English. But it was just so nice. And personalized. And it definitely made me go: "Awwwwww!"
It might be a generalization of their culture, but it's a good one--and so, hopefully, forgiveable--but ... Japanese people are so damn nice.
22 January 2007
nuigurumi
This past weekend I rewarded the leaps and bounds I had made in organizing my desk by finally pulling out my sewing machine and using it (after a hibernation period of how long?), temporarily relocating the laptop to my bed. I also cleared out a nook for the sewing machine on one of the lower shelves of the desk for when I'm not using it; having it there will make it easier to take out whenever I want.
Friday afternoon, I had found a fairly simple pattern for a stuffed cat on Craftster, and on Saturday morning I decided to give it a try. My first attempts were, I now see, doomed. The pattern was too small for the fabric I had chosen (remember the black faux fur-like remnant from The Children's Museum? no, I hadn't either--until I found it lumped in with my other sewing odds and ends); it was shedding and thick and pretty impossible stuff to work with, and not at all a good idea for a "first stab" at a stuffed animal.
So I took a break for lunch, popped a couple ibuprofen, and began to watch the third season of Arrested Development, which had just arrived in the mail. And at some point during the show, I started sorting through the other kinds of fabric--they were still spread out on my bed since I'd not put them away. I decided to make life simpler, enlarged the pattern, chose two kinds of cotton (from the various fat quarters I've collected over the years), and started afresh.
It should be noted that this particular pattern is in Japanese. I don't know Japanese (well, not entirely true--I know very little, and cannot read kanji), so I basically followed my intuition with the process. Most of it worked out well; some of it could've gone better. Like the arms. I stuffed the arms before machine-sewing them into the seam of the torso. And if I ever do that again, I'll probably sew them with their seams perpendicular, rather than parallel. Because they're kind of floppy, in a way that would be arm-breaking on a real creature.
I think I had just finished the machine-sewing part when the first disc of Arrested Development ended. I plugged the iPod into the television to watched The Illusionist (which is kind of weird to watch after Gob's magic nonsense on AD), and stuffed the separate body parts (head, body, and tail) with destroyed pieces of the black fur material (because what else am I going to do with that stuff?).
Some of the way through the stuffing process, I realized that I had no hand-sewing needles. I rummaged through my disorganized bags of sewing stuff, and no. Nothing with which to sew the pieces together.
So, Saturday night concluded with my project looking like this:
Sunday I took the trip from South Station out to Framingham. I had about half an hour to wait for my train, so I stopped at one of the food stalls in the station for a sandwich. There's a new one called Cosi, and I recommend it to anyone who happens to wind up in South Station. Their melts are awesome.
My purpose of the day was to visit The Fabric Place and get whatever I needed to finish my project--and browse too, since it is, according to their advertisements, the biggest Fabric Place in New England. I bought more than I needed to: a 50-pack of hand-sewing needles, more fat quarters from the quilting department, felt squares, poly-fill (no more lumpy stuffed creatures), and poly pellets (no more top-heavy stuffed creatures either).
I arrived home around twilight, and finished sewing the cat's pieces together before dinner arrived while watching the second (and last) disc of Arrested Development, season three. He still needs a face (as I'm using pins to mark where I'm thinking it should go), but this is what he looks like now:
Somewhere between Framingham and South Station, on the trip home from The Fabric Place, I decided that his name is Farsil Redleaf. The "Redleaf" part is fairly understandable (the maple pattern fabric that makes up his front, tail, and inner-ears); but don't ask me about "Farsil," because I don't know or remember why I arrived at that. I was always bad at naming pets. I'm equally bad at naming stuffed animals.
Other changes I would consider making to the process:
1. Perhaps determine a more stable way of attaching the head to the body (or, indeed, a way of attaching all pieces to the body before stuffing). I just feel like the hand-sewing bits were the least uniform, and maybe the whole design could be machine sewn if slightly altered. Maybe the tail, like the arms, could be pre-stuffed and sewn into the seam.
* In lieu of that, do some trial-stitching on spare fabric and try to recall that old secret of "the hidden stitch."
2. Stitch the face (with whatever) before sewing the head together, because I can already tell that any attempt at satin-stitching the face is going to be rather difficult.
3. Make use of the poly-pellets in the bottom (and maybe the feet too) so that it's not so top-heavy. Otherwise, it really can't sit up by itself.
18 January 2007
pride cometh before ...
I've got a memory like an elephant... that's lost its memory.
... a nasty fall up the front steps in the freezing cold. Or something to that effect. I could blame it on pride or my over-large slippers that I happened to be wearing at the time, and in which I have a hard enough time while walking on level surfaces, never mind brick stairs.
The pride being due to the happiness I was feeling from the completion (or near-completion) of various chores around the flat. I'd done my laundry, all the little scraps of useless paper from my desk-side bookshelf had been thrown into empty shopping bags, and the trash-full shopping bags had been placed in trash bags.
And before cracking down on the havoc that is my desk, I decided to take out the two full trash bags I'd already assembled. On my way back in, I was thinking of vacuuming my floor as well.
Zeal is randomly punished.
I misstepped and fell up the brick stairs that lead to the vistibule of our apartment, managing to smash both left knee and left ankle. It's been a while since my clumsiness has led me to fall up the stairs (or down the stairs, for that matter), and I'd forgotten how falling on my knee seems to drain the energy out of the rest of me, my arms especially.
Hobbling back inside, I collapsed on my bed for a minute to groan and let the wave of nausea pass. Then, after a few minutes I shuffled to the kitchen, emptied what was left of an ice tray into a ziploc bag, shuffled back to my room, and crumbled again--only, this time, with a bag of ice to transfer from my knee to ankle and back again.
Thus was my work ethic was fairly well squashed for the evening. After an hour or so of icing my knee-cap I decided to have a shower. I spent it wondering how and when the other shoe is going to drop; clumsiness for me isn't a case of "a little here and there." No, it comes in batches, and there's bound to be something else around the corner.
Natalie Dee knows my pain.
In the end, I managed to put brooding aside by way of entertainment, and fell asleep watching more Netflix deliveries: Series Three of The Vicar of Dibley.
On another note completely, I wonder if an ibrik is entirely necessary to the physics involved in the creation of Turkish coffee--or if, indeed, a small pan would do the job just as well. I get the feeling that the almost Erlenmeyer shape serves a particular purpose, and probably something to do with restricting the surface area of the brew exposed to air.
I was reading several tutorials yesterday about coffee, and came upon instructions for brewing Turkish coffee, a process that involves pulverizing coffee beans beyond even the fine-grind typical of espresso. You also apparently require an ibrik (a very small pan, the shape of which reminds me of an Erlenmeyer flask). The whole business sounds easy enough in theory--though I've been reading the several possibilities of disaster--and I kind of want to try it myself.
What is Turkish coffee like? I've only ever had it once, to be honest. I could say it's like espresso, but that's really not doing it justice, because its flavour is much stronger than any espresso. I suppose it would be like finding an espresso concentrate in a syrup-like form and drinking that straight, hot, and usually with sugar.
16 January 2007
digging for the truth
It's a slogan that The History Channel has pasted all over the MBTA Green Line trains (I can't speak for the other lines, as I don't see them very often). It's a sentiment that would seem to express serious scholastic interest, but none of the accompanying images really match up.
"Digging for the truth" apparently means taking part in adventure sport--hang-gliding over lost civilizations that bear a striking resemblance to scenery from King Kong and Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, rock-climbing the face of large old statues (that, amazingly, aren't so old that they crumble or self-destruct under the stress and pressure of human weight), and base-jumping (or perhaps sky-diving, I couldn't tell) out of helicopters. ... But no actual "digging," no, not as such.
I had a lot of time to contemplate these advertisements over the three-day weekend (because I work at a university, and Martin Luther King Jr. received his doctorate here--if we didn't celebrate Martin Luther King Day as a proper holiday, what would people think?).
Saturday I spent indoors, watching DVDs from Netflix and some episodes of Psych that I had downloaded from iTunes. I also began to rearrange and tidy up my book-shelves, trying to give the madness a recognizable method--important since there are things I can't find that I really wish I could.
Like my sketch books or my votive candles. I had a whole bag of votives, and now I have no idea where they are. I really hope they're not in my closet (a whole other barrel of worms--yes, a barrel), but the fact that I dread even attempting to search there probably means that that's exactly where they are.
But speaking of Psych, the long mid-season pause (a pause of several months, as the last new episode was back in August) is nearly over; there's going to be a new episode airing this Friday. I'm looking forward to the continuation and hope that the series is picked up for another season. Blasphemy, but I like it better than Monk.
I nearly stayed indoors again on Sunday, but outside forces were at work that would change my mind midway through the day. Numerous instant messages overnight from my mother guilted me into inspired me to call my parents. My mother was happy to find that I'd been making use of the iTunes gift card they'd given me for Christmas (those television episodes). She also wanted to know my extended weekend plans, which had basically been put on the shelf due to inclement weather, and I said as much.
Then my father got on the phone and gave me a pep-talk--you know the kind. Don't let bad weather discourage you, get out there with an umbrella and enjoy the time, etc. It's a very easy pep-talk to give when your own weather is not shit (they live in North Carolina, and enjoyed a sunny and mild weekend). So I said in a very noncommittal way that I would get out of my apartment, and he seemed nonetheless satisfied with that unenthusiastic response.
They rung off, and I surprised even myself by actually doing what I said I would. I ate a quick lunch and left the house, North Station my destination--and arrived there at about 1:45 PM. I bought a round-trip ticket at the booth, and took the Rockport train out of Boston at 2:15 PM, which is how I ended up spending a rainy afternoon in Salem, MA.
While there, I [finally] bought Christmas presents for my flat-mates at a shop on Derby St. called Witch Ways: a sun-and-moon themed wind-chime for Michelle and an opalescent "witch ball" for Stephanie (they call it that because it's meant to protect a home from malevolent forces, but to me it looks like a pretty glass-blown Christmas ornament). After that, I went farther down to Ye Olde Pepper Candy Companie, the oldest candy company in America (open since 1806), and bought truffles--because I really like their truffles and thought they would be nice to accompany the gifts.
Christmas crises over with, I walked back toward Pickering Wharf, and stopped in at Cafe Jaho for a cappuccino and some writing--and, though I hadn't really expected much of myself, I got a fair amount of writing done. It needs editing, as the characterization of my main character is a little off for the scene (though I haven't dealt with him in 50,000 words, so that's not very surprising); but I like what I've done with the secondary character, so it wasn't a wasted or fruitless effort.
I didn't leave Salem until nearly 6:00 PM, and walked around taking pictures in the dark until the next inbound train was due to arrive.
Some of them turned out better than others.
Yesterday morning, as I was getting ready to go out into the rain again, the doorbell rang. It was the postman with my purchases from Amazon.co.uk--the three new books based on the Torchwood series. I unwrapped them, enjoyed the sight of them for a few minutes (when you line up the three separate book spines they make a picture of the whole team), and put Another Life in my bag for T reading material.
I spent the afternoon at the CambridgeSide Galleria, and bought a new protective case for my iPod (a black and red leather folio that I saw at the Apple Store in Raleigh, NC over Christmas break and had been coveting ever since, regardless of the U2-connection).
Shopping confession two, I feel, requires preamble to justify the purchase--one that the majority of my friends will still feel is not an adequate justification; but if they're really my friends they'll forgive the rather "preppy" vanity involved. I don't generally shop at Abercrombie & Fitch; it's usually out of my price range, and, quite frankly, most of the clothing is poorly crafted and overpriced for its quality (or lack thereof). I've only shopped their clearance, because that's when I feel that the clothing is actual worth what you're paying.
All that being said, I really like the way Abercrombie & Fitch clothing smells--you know, before the first time you wash it. And, while looking for clothing deals with my mother in the post-Christmas madness, we went into an Abercrombie & Fitch. I ended up buying a sweater and a pair of greenish-gray khakis; and again, I was struck by the fragrance on all of the clothes.
Waiting in line, there was a table beside the check-out counter with bottles of multiple scents, and I picked up the test-bottle of "Classic" on a hunch and spritzed it on a test-strip. Sure enough, "Classic" is what all their clothes smell like. And I wanted it, but I didn't buy it; it seemed like overkill at the time (and I'm sure still seems like overkill to you, dear readers, now).
With that long introduction to the fact, the shorter story is that I went and bought a bottle yesterday at the Galleria. Because I was there, and alone, and had no one in tow to give me judgmental glares about the silliness of such a purchase (you know who you are--yes, all of you, most likely). No, I'm only leaving myself open to criticism after the fact by mentioning it in my blog; but at least this way no one can attempt to talk me out of it.
12 January 2007
stick that in your Liberty Bell and ring it
Jack of All Trades - President Thomas Jefferson dispatches spy Jack Stiles (Bruce Campbell) to the tiny isle of Palau-Palau to block the advance of Napoleon Bonaparte (aptly played by Verne Troyer) in this offbeat adventure series. Masquerading as a manservant, Jack and his partner -- winsome British agent Emilia Rothschild (Angela Dotchin) -- aim to thwart Napoleon while also combating the corrupt colonial governor (Stuart Devenie).
I'd forgotten about the introduction to Jack of All Trades. It's ... special. But then, so is the show. On one hand, I don't think the half-hour time frame was right for it--didn't give the opportunity for much character development from episode to episode. On the other hand, how many punny would-be patriotic quips and back-biting between American Jack Styles and English Emilia Rothschild can you take in one sitting? Actually, it's not even "would-be" patriotism; it's tongue-in-cheek patriotism.
I think my favourite episodes are the four including Napoleon (Verne Troyer). Yes. Mini-me as Napoleon. But that's the level of silliness, and why even what might be an annoying display of patriotism can be taken in stride.
Also, there seems to be some online contention about whether Palau-Palau (the island on which the series is meant to occur) is supposed to be in the South Pacific or the Caribbean. I'll just say that they would be better off on deeming it the South Pacific (though, historically, the West Indies would probably make more sense). The "natives" are all either Maori (because it was filmed in New Zealand) or South East Asians--no Africans or Central- or South Americans among them, a fact that just doesn't jive with the Caribbean idea.
Typical to Bruce, it's fun and cheesy and probably only to be appreciated by his crazy fans (of which I am one).
10 January 2007
... entertain us
I'm glad that the next few DVDs in the Netflix line-up are comedies. Last night, watching Vicar of Dibley and Arrested Development, I laughed more within the span of a few hours than I usually do in a whole day.
The Vicar of Dibley - The 100-something vicar of the small English village of Dibley has passed on. A new vicar has been requested for a replacement. What they get is Geraldine Granger (Dawn French), a non-traditional, chocolate loving, rock n' roll playing vicar. That is not what gets the citizens of Dibley in an uproar though. It's because she is a woman. Still, that doesn't stop Geraldine from proving her worthiness to the village. After time, the villagers (with the exception of influential David Horton [Gary Waldhorn]) accept Geraldine as the vicar of Dibley.
I moved the first "season" to the top of my Netflix queue after watching the New Year's special on my laptop--"Vicar in White," stated as the final episode, and one in which Geraldine gets married.
Who's the lucky guy? Richard Armitage (who also happens to play Guy of Gisborne in the newer BBC television series Robin Hood). I have to say that I like him much better when he's playing a good guy--which is rare, since my preference tends to go the other way around. As Guy, Armitage is more than a little unhinged, and not in a sexy way, but in an he-might-really-be-crazy and he's-definitely-a-murderer way. I also don't approve of the eye-liner (or mascara or whatever else) they used on him; it adds no depth of color and just makes his eyes look beadier than they really are.
The final episode of the series is a cute one, chronicling the endeavors of the people of Dibley to take full responsibility for the vicar's wedding ceremony out of her hands. Bridal gown, bride's maid's dresses, music, flowers, etc. And, as you might expect, it's absolutely insane. And perfect. I think my favourite touch was Alice (Emma Chambers) dressing up as maid of honour, wearing a full replica of the Doctor Who suit--the David Tennant suit, of course--with all the bride's maids behind her dressed as Daleks.
Anyway, after I'd finished watching it, I remembered that the available seasons were sitting in my neverending queue--so I bumped them all to the top of the queue. I received "season" one yesterday afternoon; and I qualify "season" with quotation marks, because it only consists of nine episodes. And the other "seasons" are even shorter, so each one only takes up a single disc--which is, to a certain extent, economical, but it brings back my old complaint about the brevity of most television series produced in the United Kingdom.
I know. I've just been spoiled by the lengthiness of State-side productions. Oh, well.
Fully aware that actual vicars don't behave the way Dawn French portrays Geraldine, I still have to think that, had I been raised in the Anglican Church, I might have a better opinion of Christianity. Most sects of Christianity are not designed for change (*cough*Catholicism*cough*), but the Church of England seems fairly flexible.
It might just be a case of the grass seeming greener. I know that change hasn't come easily for them either, and that most other branches of Christianity consider Anglicans the wishy-washy cousin--but, for them, change does seem to happen. That sort of elasticity seems go along with survival of, well, everything, and religion is probably not the exception to the rule.
On the agenda for this evening? Well, the second disc of Arrested Development's second season is supposed to arrive; but I have other entertainment plans.
I'll be going to the Harvard AMC for a free preview of El Laberinto del Fauno (a.k.a. Pan's Labyrinth). I've already watched it without translation, so I'm looking forward to the more complete experience of viewing with subtitles--and on a much larger screen. Also being a big fan of the soundtrack by Javier Navarrete, I can't wait to hear it in surround sound.
09 January 2007
on the wampage
Sometimes you find the best things accidentally.
When I arrived home yesterday, Maddigan's Quest was waiting for me in the vestibule. I watched all thirteen episodes last night--my attention divided between watching the television, eating my dinner, and cleaning my room. And speaking of cleaning my room, I'm quite proud of the progress I've made in ridding the floor and surfaces of clutter. My desk and book-shelves require the most attention at present, but all else is reasonably clutter-free.
On Maddigan's Quest again, conveniently the series finished at around 10 PM when I was ready to go to sleep.
Maddigan's Quest - Set in a post-apocalyptic future, Maddigan’s Quest follows the circus troop ‘Maddigan’s Fantasia’, who come from the only remaining city, Solis. Each year, the Fantasia leave Solis to perform and earn a living, but this year is different: they have been set the task of obtaining a new Solar Converter to replace the existing converter – the only power source in Solis – which is failing. At the centre is 14-year-old Garland (Rose McIver) – the final Maddigan. However, as the Fantasia are attacked on their quest, two mysterious boys, Timon (Jordan Metcalfe) and Eden (Zac Fox), appear with their baby sister Jewel. They claim to be from the future, from Solis, where the Fantasia have failed in their quest and the evil, revolting Nennog (Ross Duncan) has taken power. They have come back with a Talisman which appears to give Eden extraordinary powers, to help the Fantasia succeed in their quest. But they also bring danger, in the form of Ozul (Peter Daube) and Maska (Michael Hurst), two men who will stop at nothing to capture the boys. Can the Fantasia protect Timon and Eden, and succeed in their quest to obtain a new solar converter for Solis Maddigan’s Quest is a vivid tale of magic, adventure and time-travel, from the internationally renowned children’s author Margaret Mahy.
I'm determined to watch the series again before I make any great statements about the whole, but I will say that I have two favourite performances from this show--Michael Hurst (Maska) and Jordan Metcalfe (Timon).
Maska is a robot--well, a human head with a metal body--and a sort of underling to Ozul (Peter Daube), but I get the impression that he is the more thoughtful and sensible of the two. Michael Hurst plays the character dead-pan and ruthless, and he devotedly disappears into the role (as he does with every character he plays). The snarking between Maska and Ozul usually winds down to Maska having the last word, and they're always excellently cutting last words.
Timon is a morally ambiguous character; though, at the beginning of the series, he feels very down-to-earth, a conscientious boy-next-door, the would-be hero. That's why he becomes far more interesting when he falters and founders into the villain; it also enables Jordan Metcalfe to exhibit his acting chops. Metcalfe physically looks very young--early teenager, one might expect. However, in the last few episodes of the series, Timon's body is overtaken by a blood-virus that turns him into a reptilian insect creature with evil intent. Basically Metcalfe goes from being would-be hero to Machiavellian villain, and the transition is amazing to watch. It's a slow initial onset that leaves the viewer uncertain about what exactly is happening to him, but the final change is very abrupt and physical.
It was while observing this change that I thought, He can't be a teenager. No way. And he isn't, but it would be easy to make the mistake. He's baby-faced, shorter than average, and his voice is a tenor--but he's twenty-one. Considering what the character has to eventually become, it was a wise choice for the casting director to make.
And now for something completely different (no, not Monty Python's Flying Circus). I was looking for images of Captain Jack Harkness (John Barrowman) of Torchwood--no special reason, I just felt like it--and one of my searches led me to a blog with this:
Consequently, the blog had this too, which also pleased me (since it was what I was looking for in the first place):
08 January 2007
moral courage?
Trust has nothing to do with moral courage. It occurs when we have nowhere else to turn, when we reach the end of our need to control.
I think our eyes occasionally read and interpret what we expect to read, rather than what is actually there. For example, this quote--for me--makes trust look like a last resort. When I first read the second sentence, my mind definitely saw, It occurs when we have nowhere else to run, when we reach the end of our rope. I apparently link trust with desperation. And words beginning with the letter 'r'.
That notion really has nothing to do with the rest of my entry; it was just a personal conclusion based on a muddled morning contemplation. However, this act of contemplation took place post-tea and post-coffee; so it cannot be entirely debunked.
I received three movies on Friday afternoon and enjoyed them all to varying degrees.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang - Petty thief Harry Lockart (Robert Downey Jr.) gets caught up in a murder investigation in this action-packed comedy. Posing as an actor, Harry heads to Los Angeles for an unlikely audition and finds an authentic acting coach in detective Perry Van Shrike (Val Kilmer). But the bright lights of Hollywood fade when a murder takes place and Harry, Perry and Harry's high school dream girl (Michelle Monaghan) become part of the investigation.
Robert Downey Jr. seems very much at home in this role--and it's kind of the way I'd imagine him being in reality. That could be entirely off the mark, but his lines just felt direct from the source and, well, right. That being said, and given the understanding that Robert Downey Jr. is damn near perfect in this part, I honestly think that Val Kilmer manages to steal the show as "Gay Perry"--a fact that shouldn't surprise me after his audience-winning performance in Tombstone--since they have given him some of the best lines in the movie.
Perry: Why in pluperfect hell did you pee on the corpse?
And, then ...
Perry: Look up idiot in the dictionary. You know what you'll find?
Harry: A picture of me?
Perry: No! The definition of idiot. Which you fucking are!
And then there was this:
Perry: Go. Sleep badly. Any questions, hesitate to call.
Harry: Bad.
Perry: Excuse me?
Harry: Sleep bad. Otherwise it makes it seem like the mechanism that allows you to sleep...
Perry: What, fuckhead? Badly's an adverb. Who taught you grammar? Get out. Vanish.
Character Perry is so intelligent and snarky, he's almost immediately endeared to me above the rest; it helps that he's being played by Val Kilmer, but it's really just a bonus. Suffice to say, this film has some excellent dialog, and the plot is wonderfully winding. It has to be one of the more satisfying movies I've watched in a while, probably partly because a lot of the conversations remind me of things I or friends have said before. If you haven't seen it, you should. *****
Key Largo - As a hurricane wreaks havoc outside, Army veteran Frank McCloud (Humphrey Bogart), Nora Temple (Lauren Bacall) and her invalid father-in-law face a worse storm inside the Temples' tumbledown Florida hotel. Frank stopped by merely to pay his respects to war-widow Nora, only to find the hotel commandeered by exiled gangster Johnny Rocco (Edward G. Robinson) and his band of goons. Will the war-weary Frank step up to the plate to save the Temples?
Yes, of course, he will. When Bogart is the good guy, he's terribly self-sacrificing. The only thing I was unclear about with this film was whether his character would live or die in the end. A big to-do is made about McCloud's friendship with Temple's son, and Temple's bravery and self-sacrifice in the war--all leading up to McCloud's need to put out his own neck. So I wondered if this, too, would lead to death.
The acting is very good, on all accounts; but having seen so many films along this bent, the story feels lacking. I expected more violence, or at least more tension; but I'm not sure what the rules of censorship were like in 1948, so perhaps this was as far as they could take anything. Or maybe the writer or the director placed their own censorship on what they felt they should show.
Rocco is supposed to be domestically violent with his mistress, but the most the audience ever actually sees is some verbal abuse--verbal abuse that probably wouldn't mean as much to the woman, were she sober enough to brush it off. Granted, the audience does see Rocco shoot a policeman; but there's very little blood, and the camera doesn't dwell on the body for long. Rocco is slimy, yes, and brutal; I just don't think we get enough visual impressions about the fact.
At the time of its cinematic release, I'm sure that parents would not have felt okay in bringing their young along to see this movie, but by modern standards it's fairly family-friendly and, yes, predictable. Were it not for the quality of the actors involved, I would give it a lower score. ***
Impromptu - Nineteenth century feminist author George Sand (Judy Davis), as famous for her cigar-smoking and pants-wearing as she was for her writing, is at the center of this literary drama. Although she's fallen for composer Frederic Chopin (Hugh Grant), a number of obstacles stand in their way -- rivals, former lovers … even duels! This film was nominated for a New York Film Critics Circle Award and an Independent Spirit Award.
I think I added this to my queue based on the involvement of Julian Sands, but he's not a major character; actually, all characters play second fiddle to George Sand (Judy Davis)--even Frederic Chopin (Hugh Grant).
Foolishly longing for art's influence in her circle, the Duchess D'Antan (Emma Thompson) invites a group of artists to her estate for a fortnight, and Sand invites herself along in hopes of trailing after Chopin--not that the Duchess seems to mind, finding the impertinence more amusing than troubling. It's a recipe for battling eccentricities--and trouble--that eventually turns on the Duchess in an evening's entertainment produced by Alfred De Musset (Mandy Patinkin), the sole purpose of which is to ridicule the host and hostess.
Franz Liszt: [as God] Hurry, Noah, to the Ark, and fill it with two each of the creatures of land, sea, and air.
George Sand: [as Noëtte] Lord, we have no need for animals - art alone will save the world. Let's see, we'll need two of everything: two poets, two painters, two musicians...
Franz Liszt: [as God] Impossible, they will not come. Your conversation is not witty and you have no ideals.
George Sand: [as Noëtte] Ha ha, true, but we shall also give them free food and lodging for forty days and forty nights. Now, we shall also need two playwrights, two composers, two makers of velvet flowers...
Chopin, responsible for composing and playing its music, stops the play once he realizes its nature; for though the Duchess is generally vapid, it is fairly nasty payback for her generosity. As one of the other characters remarks at some point, Chopin is the girl of the relationship between him and Sand--kinder, frailer, better-mannered.
The cast is superb and the relationships feel possible and true--and truth is one of the more difficult things to get at in a period drama. ****
25 December 2006
more presents
In which I give a catalog of my haul and the food made and consumed thus far.
No, not really, but close enough.
I also received $40 from my Grammy, a $50 iTunes gift card, a pair of black pjs from Gap Body, and a navy blue hoodie from AEO (the last two of which I am presently wearing).
On Saturday, we went out to lunch at an Asian bistro down by the ballpark.
In the afternoon I made chocolate-chip cookies. Then, my mom was having issues with the baci and the cookie press, and enlisted my assistance with those as well. We ended up removing the shaper at the end, and (in my opinion) they looked more like what they were supposed to be in the first place.
If you've never had--or made--them before, baci are rather work-intensive cookies; but the product is well worth the effort. We made "Romeo" baci (versus "Juliet" baci). "Romeo" baci have chocolate in the batter, whereas "Juliet" baci do not and are a plain almond or hazelnut flavor. They're baked in halves; then, you paint melted chocolate on the underside of one and stick it to another underside; then, you put them on a plate or sheet and stick them in the fridge until the chocolate sets again. It's a sandwich cookie, but it looks like ball--and more than a little naughty when it's in its halves.
Before baking the baci, we had to let them sit on the sheets for a few hours to set up. So we went to Costco and Kroger during the interim. At Costco we bought 5 lbs. of Australian lamb, two bottles of wine, and a few different kinds of cheese.
Some religious nut had left a fake $20 on a pile of journals with a "call to Jesus" on the inside: "Disappointed? Jesus won't let you down." It was followed by a church address and a number for a hotline. I borrowed my mother's red pen, wrote my own little message on the inside, and put it back where I'd found it. Shit-heels.
My dad wandered off, and my mom and I continued on to Kroger looking for bread and Ballatore. There was wine-tasting going on in the alcohol section, and I tried a merlot while my mom had a shiraz. They were good, but not tempting enough to make us change our planned course. All the bread was pathetic and embarrassing, so my mom said, "Screw this! Let's make our own!" Our cart was conspicuously food-free; we bought two bottles of Ballatore (the regular spumante and the rosso), a six-pack of the peach Bacardi, a six-pack of Mike's hard lemonade, and Dayquil for my eversick father.
When we got home, my mom sent me out to the yard to collect oregano and rosemary, and we proceeded to make garlic and herb baguettes. While they were rising, we finished the baci.
Saturday night dinner consisted of spiced wine, a few kinds of cheese, baguette, and cured ham--with baci, chocolate-chip cookies, and chocolate-covered almonds (because we had to do something with the leftover melted chocolate) for dessert.
Sunday continued the madness of food. Lunch was another simple sit-down with more homemade bread, cheese, and ham. Then, we went out to the Grand Asia Market and Trader Joe's in Cary. And, you know, bought more food. Because we had to.
After getting home again, my mom and I got started on Christmas Eve dinner: a riesling, roasted lamb marinated in too many things for me to list, herbed mashed potatoes, and a vegetable stir-fry. The lamb took nearly three hours to complete, but it was so worth it. I hadn't had lamb in nearly three years, and this was a happy reintroduction.
Today, following the morning's present craziness, we began Christmas dinner: a rose wine, still more bread, shrimp in marinara sauce, and Italian sausage lasagna. I am so damn full; I think I'll be rolling back to Boston after the holiday is over.
22 December 2006
ready to go
A is for Amy, who fell down the stairs. B is for Basil, assaulted by bears.
I woke up at 5:00, as per the usual, and had a cup of milk with a small carrot-cake muffin for breakfast while watching an episode of Forever Knight. And also while packing, and unpacking, and packing again.
Now I'm at the office, and Manuela and I just came back from a Dunkin' Donuts run. Usually, I would have already gone with Sharon (by 8:30 at the latest), but she's already on vacation--and has been since Wednesday. Actually, there are quite a few people missing around here.
I wrote out some rather brief cards to my coworkers when I first arrived, but I don't want to put them in the mail folders yet, as I mean to go and get some Hershey's kisses during my lunch break, which I will then affix to the envelopes (somehow). The cards are very me, an Edward Gorey assortment in stark black-and-white, red, and green. I'm fairly certain that some of my coworkers won't know what to make of them, but I hope they don't find them offensive. At the very least, the included chocolate will keep them from being offensive to anyone's sensibilities.
Having forgotten to print out my flight itinerary previously, I did so after the card-writing. It seems that my flight was originally meant to take off at 6:30 P.M., but will now be leaving at 7:20 P.M. Oh, well. I'm still scheduled to get in to Raleigh/Durham before 10:00 P.M., so I guess that should please me well enough.
Ooh. Two checks today (only, technically, I'm not allowed to bank one of them until the 29th). Kind of annoying, but still very nice. I didn't deposit last week's check either, so I'll still be able to deposit two this afternoon and leave the third alone until I return.
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From Netflix, I received the first two discs of Avatar: The Last Airbender. I watched the first disc all the way through, hoping it would improve with familiarity, but it's really not that good (for anyone out of middle school). It has its funny moments and inside subtle jokes that adults can appreciate, but it just couldn't hold my interest for more than a few minutes at a time. I think I was also turned off by the fact that it's American animation with aspirations to anime, a trait that just doesn't work for me. So I've knocked the remaining discs from my queue.
It is fortunate that I have so many new DVDs to watch while Netflix is being disappointing.
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And I forgot to pack Emilio. Again. Sad.
18 October 2006
'tis the season
I believe in going for seasonal food; it's not always around, so you should get and enjoy it when you can (shamrock shakes, the odd Starbucks flavours, and certain kinds of fruit). So I tried the pumpkin muffin at Dunkin' Donuts today. And, yes, it was good, like pumpkin bread. Mmm.
Makes me want to carve a pumpkin. Except not really, because it's a big mess and then you can't leave it outside without some jackass from Boston College smashing it to bits. Sad, but we live in a high-population area. Somebody would be a douche.
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Got three discs from Netflix yesterday, two of which actually worked. The last disc of Angel came with two cracks at the center, and was therefore sadly unreadable. Customer service assures me that I'm being sent a replacement today.
That left me with Young Hercules, which I know I've seen before, but couldn't recall at all. So I watched it again. And was plagued by the questions, "Why does Ares want to be king of Ithica? What can he possibly achieve from being a king that he can't get from being the GoW?" And there was no Joel Tobeck as Strife. Just Meighan Desmond as Discord (and she serves the same purpose, really, but I prefer Joel-sama ... and Strife). I'm also still puzzling over the giant Ares head swinging from ropes. Were they in the middle of building a giant statue of him? And why didn't he just snap his fingers and kill everyone? ... It's shoddy. But Kevin Smith is (... er, was) awesome, so I guess I don't care.
And I also watched a 1985 made-for-TV version of Anne of Green Gables. I've never read the book(s?), never watched any version on film. I was just curious about what I was missing, since I know a few people for whom this was one of their favourites as a child.
I'm sorry. I just don't see it. She's too bloody perfect and winsome for me. I'm not a big fan of the winsome orphan-heroine of young adult fiction (this includes Anne Shirley, Sara Crewe, and even Mary Lennox to a certain extent--though she's kind of a bitch to everyone).
Actually, I just wasn't much of a fan of young adult fiction. I think i went from Berenstain Bears to Stephen King and Ray Bradbury without a big transition in the middle. I seem to recall somebody trying to introduce me to The Babysitter's Club, and being BORED OUT OF MY MIND. I did, however, enjoy Madeleine L'Engle and some R.L. Stine (not Goosebumps, anything but Goosebumps).
The redemption of Anne of Green Gables (over three hours long, by the way) was the rest of the cast. The side characters are much more real to me than Anne; their behavior, their reactions, their speech--all of it is more believable than Anne's anything.
And, of course, ...
All new tonight at 9, only on ABC (but, also, later at 2 AM on abc.com):
Lost - "Further Instructions"
The fates of Locke, Eko and Desmond are revealed after the implosion of the hatch, and Hurley returns to the beach camp and explains what happened when he, Jack, Kate and Sawyer encountered the Others. Meanwhile, Claire is shocked to find Nikki and Paulo (Kiele Sanchez, Rodrigo Santoro) in Jack's tent. Boone: Ian Somerhalder. Eddie: Justin Chatwin. Mike: Chris Mulkey. Jan: Virginia Morris. Sheriff: Joel Himelhoch. Kim: Dion Donahue.
But I'll probably end up watching it tomorrow morning if I fall asleep before it comes on tonight.
05 October 2006
life is not the sum of its parts
We're only human.
The United States of Leland - Teenager Leland Fitzgerald (Ryan Gosling) appears to have everything going for him, including a famous writer father (Kevin Spacey). So, what drove him to kill? It's up to Pearl Madison (Don Cheadle), a teacher who works with inmates, to discover the anger, frustration and fear lurking beneath Leland's otherwise unruffled surface. Before long, Pearl helps Leland discover the truth about the painful past that led him to his excruciating present.
Gosling was 23 when he starred in this role, and I get the feeling he was trying to go for "quietly thoughtful teenager" but my first impression was "mentally deficient 20-something" because of his obvious physical maturity blended with intentional gawkiness and the inability to enunciate or say the right thing. Going beyond that, the character Leland is a disappointed character. Not disappointing--disappointed. He's unable to look at people and things and situations without seeing misery behind it all, so most of the time he "blocks it out" ... but when he can't "block it out" anymore, he blacks out one day, and kills his ex-girlfriend's retarded brother, whom he sees as the most miserable person he knows. Most of the film I was thinking, Sociopath.
Most of the poor reviews I've seen for this film come from the so-called moral muddle we're presented with. It does leave a lot to think about, much of it unpleasant. There are a lot of moral and theological questionings going on here. Why man creates/needs G-d and the devil (or just good and evil, if you like), why people do bad things at all, how the way people see the universe can have adverse effects on their social behavior, etc. Of course, there's the whole confusion around Leland's murderous act--Was it drugs? A falling out with his girlfriend? Lack of parenting? What made him snap? In the end, we don't really have a clear picture as to the big 'why'--why Leland killed this harmless kid that he obviously doesn't dislike, whom he, in fact, walks home all the time and takes care of better than the boy's own siblings and parents. But then the character was very up-front with the fact that there would be no decent 'why'--bad things happen, people are bastards, and sometimes trying to see a reason is completely futile.
To the other characters, it can't be said that Leland isn't a product of his environment. His father is an emotionally distant, though extremely successful, author who hasn't seen his son for ten years (he sends him an airplane ticket to a different city around the world every year, but he's never there). His girlfriend is an upper-middle-class junkie in reform school who dumps him for another junkie. Her parents basically ignore her in favor of her college-bound sister and sister's boyfriend (who happens to live with them for weird family reasons of his own). The college-bound sister is dumping the boyfriend after her brother's murder, and the boyfriend gets himself arrested so that he can make it into prison in order to murder Leland. Really, nothing is right with any of these people, and you have to wonder if it was much better before Leland's day of blacking out.
The filming is very stark at certain points. While in jail, Leland is wearing an orange jumper; into flashback mode, he's often wearing a hooded sweatshirt of the same bright pylon-orange while everyone around him is in muted gray tones. Ultimately it creates an extreme contrast between Leland and the people surrounding him, physically and mentally.
Message? We're all "only human" and therefore inclined to do wretched things, but hopefully we have the mental capacity to look beyond the moments of misery and not go bat-shit crazy in despair. ***1/2
And then there was Lost, and the Jack, Sawyer, and Kate habitrails--aquarium, primate house, locker room.
I love that people on the boards have started calling the Others' leader Benry.
And what did they do to Kate that she needs antiseptic and looks like she's about to have a break-down in front of Sawyer?
And wasn't the Jack flash-back kind of Dullsville and useless? Yes, he and his wife got divorced, which we already knew must have happened; we still don't know why. Okay, maybe he's the reason his father went back to the bottle after that 50-day sobriety, and maybe that's why Christian was practicing medicine under the influence, and went to Sydney, and died. I still don't think we needed a whole episode for this back story to be told. I hope next week's is more satisfying.
Tonight: Jesus Camp, 7pm, Kendall Cinema, Cambridge, MA ... Because morbid curiosity drives me to free screenings of movies about religious zealots. The WASPs have determined that the best way to fight Middle Eastern religious zeal and the godless ways of the modern age is with their own brand of religious zeal. Fabulous. I can't wait to watch the freaks in action. You know I'll have tons to write about after the fact.
04 October 2006
when you think as I do
Malcolm McDowell and David Warner have similar voices. Well, if they try, they have similar voices: sneering, British, "I'm-smarter-than-you" voices. And, really, either one of them makes for a decent villain.
Time After Time - Jack the Ripper (David Warner) is back to continue his ghastly reign of terror; this time, he's found his way to the late 1970s, intent on taking care of unfinished business. H.G. Wells (Malcolm McDowell) uses a time machine to pursue Jack into the future, where he meets Amy (Mary Steenburgen), a bank clerk who teaches Wells about life in the '70s while helping him hunt for Jack.
At the beginning of watching this, I'd forgotten who was going to be who; and the film opens on the Ripper murdering some prostitute (you know, like he does), but never showing his face. We do, however, hear his voice--which I mistakenly believed was McDowell, for all of three minutes until the scene changed to Wells' sitting room where other actors were clearly addressing McDowell as Herbert. Then Warner enters and everyone is calling him Stevenson (and I thought for a moment that they were going to have him be Robert Louis Stevenson so they could pull in the whole Jekyll and Hyde thing to have that be the reason why he's a crazy murderer--even though Wells and Stevenson weren't really contemporaries, since Stevenson was a Scottish Neoromantic and Wells was a younger London sci-fi man--but, anyway, no, his name is John "Jack the Ripper" Stevenson and there's no connection like that at all).
The movie is fun and weird and strangely frank about things you might not expect them to be as frank about with a PG rating. And poor H.G. has ideas about society being some kind of utopia in 1979 (hopes which are mercilessly dashed within a few moments of his arrival in, yes, his time machine).
I forget about the things people did and didn't have in 1979 (wasn't there, was I?)--the non-biodegradable McDonald's containers (yes, Wells visits McDeath), electric tooth-brushes, etc. What they most certainly didn't have was CGI technology. The special effects are typical to the time right before the entrance of CGI, but the cameras are better, so things even out. It's not all the greatest, but we suspend our disbelief, and it works itself out.
Strangely enough, even with the memory of "Alex" in my mind, Malcolm is adorable when he's so hapless and helpless; it's not a faithful portrayal of H.G. Wells, per se, but it's a portrayal that fits the story extremely well. He's a good actor and it's a pity he was type-cast to the villain, though I'm sure it's paid the bills all around. The DVD has a few special features--the writer/director and McDowell comment on the film, and there's a text section entitled "It's About Time" that runs through a fairly good list of the time-travel genre from books to movies.
The message? Screw time paradox and the importance of not tampering with the time-line. Also, screw that useless career. If you fall in love with a time-traveling sci-fi author, just go with it--and him/her back to his/her time, regardless of your inability to deal with the very real social aspects of this situation or the possible diseases with which your body won't be able to deal without the benefits of modern medicine. This is romantic sci-fi, after all, not reality (see: Kate & Leopold). ***1/2
I'm expecting The United States of Leland and the first disc of Angel Season Five today. But more than that!
All new tonight at 9, only on ABC:
Lost - "A Tale of Two Cities" - In the third-season opener, Jack, Kate and Sawyer begin to discover what they are up against as prisoners of the Others. Christian Shephard: John Terry. Sarah: Julie Bowen. Mr. Friendly: M.C. Gainey. Ethan: William Mapother. Goodwin: Brett Cullen.
I love that Jack's father and Ethan keep showing up, in spite of their being quite dead since Season One.
08 September 2006
ganking DVDs
I had nothing new to watch last night, so I opened the two Blockbuster DVDs that Chris still had sent to our apartment after he moved out.
Either way, we'd have had to open them in order to return them to Blockbuster, so opening and watching seemed to make as much sense as not. It was rather like a grab bag, since I had no idea what would be in them. So what was there? Poseidon and Akeelah and the Bee.
Poseidon: Battling the elements once again, Wolfgang Petersen (The Perfect Storm) re-creates Ronald Neame's 1972 action classic with help from an ensemble cast that includes Kurt Russell, Richard Dreyfuss, Josh Lucas, Emmy Rossum and Stacy Ferguson (aka "Fergie" of The Black Eyed Peas). A tidal wave spells disaster for a boatload of New Year's Eve revelers when it capsizes the mammoth vessel, pitching the passengers into a desperate battle for survival.
Yeah, I was not impressed. The characters are pretty two-dimensional, and I wasn't drawn to feel anything for any of them--not even the cute little kid who nearly drowns. Mostly I just sat back thinking that "rogue waves" were the dumbest idea of any disaster movie ever. There are so many real elements of disaster to deal with--Why make one up? Message: If the common laws of Earth science go kaplooie, you're probably screwed--especially if you're an asshole who makes lame jokes, or you're in a racial minority. **
Akeelah and the Bee: With an aptitude for words, 11-year-old Akeelah Anderson (Keke Palmer) is determined to spell her way out of South Los Angeles, entering scores of local contests and eventually landing a chance to win the Scripps National Spelling Bee in Washington, D.C. Despite discouragement from her mother (Angela Bassett), Akeelah gets support from her bookish tutor (Laurence Fishburne), her principal (Curtis Armstrong) and proud members of her community.
I enjoyed it, but then I always did enjoy movies about intelligent kids--Little Man Tate, Searching for Bobby Fischer, and so on. The plot is predictable, but the drama is good and the neighbors and family interaction make it interesting. Message: Laurence Fishburne is still Morpheus, even when he's not Morpheus. ****
Then, I spiced some mead, took a shower, and fell asleep watching Mononoke-hime.
07 September 2006
a chocolate biscuit--covered in bees
Eddie Izzard update!
'Low Life', the drama series that Eddie has been working on for the last eighteen months was given the green light yesterday. FX channel have commissioned thirteen episodes which will air in the US late 2007. Eddie is absolutely thrilled.
"It's the part I have been waiting for all my life" says he.
Lots of love,
-- The BeeKeepers
I'm so happy for him ... and I know we don't have FX at our apartment, but if he gets 13 episodes, at least they'll eventually end up on DVD.
an ogre, a secret, and a game
Somehow England is soon ridding itself of Tony, but we still can't dethrone King George? Why not?
Last night, I watched: The Ogre, Mr Rice's Secret, and Nemesis Game. These are the bare-bones reviews.
The Ogre: The outbreak of World War II helps a French simpleton named Abel (John Malkovich) -- who was wrongfully accused of attacking a young girl -- avoid prison time. But when his army unit gets captured, he's imprisoned in a Nazi camp. The film unravels into a dark fairy tale in which Abel is groomed to train Hitler youth under the direction of der Führer's right-hand man, Hermann Goering (Volker Spengler).
It's sad, because, in the end, Abel wants to save the children in his charge (because their other teachers have gone off and died); but they're brainwashed little Nazi shit-heels who try to kill him for his effort. Message: Children suck. And destiny is not on your side. ***
Mr Rice's Secret: A terminally ill boy, Owen (Bill Switzer), discovers a sealed envelope addressed to him from Mr. Rice (David Bowie). Owen soon discovers that Mr. Rice has left him a medieval code ring, a treasure map and a series of clues -- clues that will lead him on a surreal treasure hunt and one step closer to his destiny ... which may save his life.
The premise is good, and David Bowie is surprisingly good in his relatively minor role, though I'm more often than not reminded of The Hunger and a little bit Labyrinth. However, it's low budget; and there's only so much you can do with the fantasy genre when you have no money. Message: Accept that you'll die one day, live in the now, and you'll be happy. And my parents are obviously incredibly lenient--kids in this movie are getting belted or threatened with being belted every ten minutes. Yes, terminally ill boy, you're weak and fragile, but you've misbehaved, so pull down your pants ... ? ***
Nemesis Game: Mystery-thriller about a shy college student, Sara (Carly Pope--from Popular), and her friend, Vern (Adrian Paul, doing his best to hide his accent), who spend their time solving mental games and riddles for fun. But when everyone around her starts dying one by one, Sara begins to wonder whether she's part of someone else's game. Could her life be in danger, too?
Short answer: Yes. Rena Owen and Ian McShane also star in this. Owen is a crazy woman who's seen "the great design" and become a murderess and McShane is Pope's policeman father. Everyone is conveniently tangled into the Toronto-set plot.
I suspected the ending would be a cop-out, and it sort of is. But it couldn't be otherwise; because if it weren't a cop-out, then it would've been a really good movie (not direct-to-video schtick). But between the believable craziness of Owen and my predisposition to enjoy watching Paul do anything, it was an enjoyable distraction. Message: You're better off not knowing the grand design of the universe; knowing will make you kill people for reasons known only to you. ***
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