Showing posts with label Cinema Shanadiso. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cinema Shanadiso. Show all posts

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Argh! You self-involved BIGOT!


I've just seen "The Help". It was all right - kind of racially simplistic but I like stories about women, so I liked it fine.

BUT: watching the extra features is where the whole thing gets ugly. The author of the book refers to her inspiration, which apparently struck her in the year 2001 - actually on September 11, when in her shock and horror over the World Trade Centre attack, she really wanted to go home to -- get this -- the arms of her maid. [!!!!] She says something like "For 35 years I never saw Demitri [her family's maid] out of her uniform until she was in her casket. Then I started wondering 'what was she thinking all those years?'"

YOU NARCISSIST.

You never thought about what she was thinking all those years? It never occurred to you that she had a life other than serving YOU?? We are talking about RECENT HISTORY here, folks! Recent. Look at how she says those two sentences. "I never saw her out of her uniform" and then "I started wondering what she was thinking." Then -- THEN -- this woman goes on to write a smug, tearjerking glurge novel about what she thinks it might have been like for these black women in Mississippi, totally immersing herself in this greased-lens 1963 South, wherein black people are all 'Lawdy, lawdy, I done made y'all some crispy friiied chicken, Miss Ceee-lya." And when they get sassy to their bitchy Junior League employers we're all meant to nod self-righteously and clap, and admire their quaint accents, and think smugly to ourselves about how times have changed and isn't it so nice, aren't black people so funny and boy, those Southern folks sure used to be racist and ignorant.

The producer, a guy about 40 years old, at the most, has just said "I didn't grow up then [the '60s] but the social structure [when I was growing up] was largely the same." Are you telling me in that in the South white people STILL have black maids which they keep in their service for a lifetime, who are entrusted with raising their employers' children, and whose thoughts nobody even bothers to wonder about? Guess so.

What have the last 40 years been about, anyhow?!


APPARENTLY TIMES HAVEN'T CHANGED ALL THAT MUCH.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Je suis La Misérable.

My husband keeps telling me "Apparently that movie sucks," but I think he's just messing with me.

Anyhow, it just arrived in my town last Friday - "my town" is not renowned for its love of artistic film. Considering this fact, and judging from the position of the words "Les Miserables" on the cineplex marquee, it will be in one of the little, crappy theatres with poor sound. And I may be an optimist by nature, but I know enough not to pay $12 to watch Les Misérables on a second-rate sound system.

Bring on the Blu Ray! Then I can have a big drink, pause it for loo trips, wear my pajamas, and bawl like a baby if bawling is called for.

Apparently I have to wait until March.

Sigh.

Monday, January 07, 2013

"This shooow goes ever on and on..."

I went to see "The Hobbit". And I nearly fell out of my seat.

From boredom.

And irritation.

THE GOOD:

  • THE DWARVES. I liked everything about them. Good casting, good dialogue, good costumes, good jokes. And that "to find our old forgotten gold" song was a great fireside moment. 
  • BILBO. The perfect mix of deference and humour, reluctance and courage. Well acted and well-cast...but then I love Martin Freeman in anything. (Dent Arthur Dent) And... 
  • RICHARD ARMITAGE. I could watch him get a filling done, that's how interesting he is to me. Although it's a little disconcerting finding myself physically attracted to Thorin Oakenshield, who I've always loathed. 
  • THE KNITTING. Oh, the knitting. The dwarves are covered in the stuff, and it's all dreamy and so very, very copyable. 

THE BAD: Where to begin? Where, oh where, oh where to begin. All right, let's begin with:

  • GALADRIEL. I love Cate Blanchet, but Galadriel's stupid faux-sonorous voice, with that ridiculous habit of unnecessary telepathy, has got to stop. In that one scene, where she paces around Elrond's council chamber like a restless spirit, she is WEARING LIFTS. Seriously. They have jacked up her shoes by a good two inches, presumably to give her a more ethereal, Elven look. It's the stupidest thing I've ever seen, except for that laughable, noodley hair of hers. 
  • THE PLOT PACE. Seriously? 9 hours (total) for a 260 page book? I was checking my watch. During The Hobbit, a movie I've been looking forward to seeing since 2009. WHILE WATCHING RICHARD ARMITAGE WEARING FURS LIKE A SHORTER, SEXIER CONAN, I was checking my watch. That's how much this stupid movie drags.
  • All the EXTRA CRAP they stuck in from the Appendices, just to give it more run-time so they could release three, three-hour movies instead of one three-hour movie OR, okay, if you insist, two two-hour movies. It's a CASH GRAB and I hate cash grabs.

So are you getting that I hated The Hobbit: An Unexpectedly Boring Ordeal?

Saturday, December 22, 2012

Theme: What I Did This Week

Another vost for you!

This one is just a few pictures and video snips of what we did this week - we got our tree, we set it up, I moved the carpet (and moved it, and moved it), we did some baking, some cleaning, and had the church pageant. (My kids were angels, naturally.) I knitted two hats, and my daughter modelled one for me before I gave it away.

Enjoy!


Music: 
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (Ella Fitzgerald)
Glow Worm (Mel Torme)

Friday, December 14, 2012

The Christmas Tree Forest

Once you've got your pajamas on, and you've had your milk and brushed your teeth, I'll read you a story.





Tuesday, December 04, 2012

Messy Tuesday with a vengeance.

Remember when I used to do Messy Tuesday posts? Well, what you're about to witness is the Messy Tuesday to end all Messy Tuesdays.

A few background notes for this vost:
1) the room in question doesn't usually look quite this bad - I had pulled out all the toy bins for organising;
2) the kids promised me "Mum, if you clean our room, we will DEFINITELY keep it that way until Christmas." [insert hollow laugh]; and
3) this is something I hear all the time: "Mum, we need more socks. All our socks are lost. We can't find any socks. Buy us more socks."

 

Monday, December 03, 2012

Hang spring cleaning!

The love I have for The Wind in the Willows cannot be overstated. I can't begin to guess how many times I've read it, and it still makes me laugh right out loud, and then makes me tear up and sniffle like a little boy.

My children love this book too, especially the younger, who can't get enough of little animals in velvet waistcoats acting like humans in all seriousness: she is completely dedicated to the entire Beatrix Potter oeuvre, as well.

Several times people have tried to adapt Wind In The Willows to film, with varying degrees of success. And normally I don't really hold with adaptations, only because people feel that, once they've seen It, they know all about It and don't need to read It. But this one is really, really good - so funny - and you should try it sometime this winter (it's a perfect winter movie - also it's a perfect summer movie). But you do have to give it a chance - the makeup can be a little startling at first, but once you enter into the spirit of the thing it's universally charming. The intervention scene, when Toad repents of his motorcar behaviour, is hilarious.

A little preview!

Friday, November 30, 2012

In which I watch a little television.

I've been watching this show since the beginning, but every single episode I wonder "Why the hell am I still watching this crap?" It's TERRIBLE.

Let's list all the things wrong with Glee:

-Rachel Berry gets more annoying every year. EVERY year. I always think "At least there's nowhere to go but up," but they prove me wrong.
-They take a stand on every single social issue imaginable, except for teen promiscuity which according to Glee is fanTAStic.
-There is not enough Principal Figgins.
-There are way too many montages.
-Almost every single main female character has lost a lot of weight since the beginning, showing up looking even less like teenagers than they used to, but the show wants us to believe it is fat-inclusive due to an obese sympathetic character or two. They've even introduced an eating-disorder sideline that is so pious and socially-conscious it makes me want to join the girl kneeling by the toilet with her fingers down her throat. Want to prove you're not the same as every other show out there? Encourage your cast members to eat normal amounts of food, rather than rewarding thinness with better costumes and sexy solos. Which brings me to...
-Sarah Jessica Parker. Whaaaa??? Leathery face, tiny eyes, weirdly wiggish hair, skeletal body...is that the best casting they could arrange for Kurt's glamorous fashion mentor?

And lastly, the thing that will make me finally go into my PVR recording setup and select "Do not record future episodes"?

The school-bell fade into and out of EVERY SCENE. I feel like I'm watching an after-school special starring a bunch of 13 year olds.

And that's what you missed
on

GLEE!

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Going on at length

Okay, then, another vost!

I recorded this video in June (I mistakenly say "April" in the voiceover) and though I have meant to put it on the blog this entire time, I never got around to it. But I had huge fun with that eggnog latte vost, so thought I'd put another one together. I'm weirdly fascinated with hearing myself talk.

This one's about hand-carding Shetland fleece in preparation for spinning. Eventually I'll record the spinning itself, to sort of round things out.

I'm aware this might be sort of boring, but the whole point of vosts is to have a little glimpse into someone's life, and this is definitely a glimpse into mine.



Saturday, November 24, 2012

Does this even count as a vlog?

Quite a long time ago, my sister urged me to put up a "vlog" - a video blog. Which is another one of those annoying misnomers in our world: really, it should be "vost", because it's a POST, not a BLOG. That's like saying 'book' when you mean 'chapter'.

Anyhow. I know I posted yesterday about my eggnog latte, but in fact I took some video of that process, and thought it would be funny to post it.

In case you have ever wondered what my voice sounds like and whether I have a Canadian accent (which Lizbon maintains that I do), here's a sample.




Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Missed the Saturday dance

Don't really post much anymore.

I was going to do a whole thing where I changed all the lyrics and made it funny and cute, but I couldn't think of a computer-y rhyme for "-ore", so I bailed.

I watched "The Exorcist" the other night. It's an odd choice for me - I don't like horror in general. But it was coming on "Encore Avenue", which is commercial free, and I thought "This movie is a huge part of our culture - maybe I should give it a look."

It was interesting - quite rude actually. Half the horror is just the disgusting things that demon does and says while inhabiting the body of this little girl. I was so worried about it that I Googled Linda Blair to check how old she was when she was asked to say those things. She was 12, but it turns out a grownup said the really bad lines and they just voice-overed it. So that's good.

But any rate, the movie wasn't as scary as I had expected, probably because I turned the volume down to almost nil, and looked away during the worst bits. GREAT ending though.

I kept saying "Aw, poor kid" for the entire two hours.

Knitting a lot but nothing I can show you.

I'm going on a hike tomorrow morning, early...plans are to leave at 7:00 AM. I'll try to remember to bring the camera so I can show you the good bits.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Once Upon a Time.

Lately it seems the only things I post are reviews. Actually it gives you a fair idea of what I'm spending my time doing - lots of reading, lots of watching, lots of listening. This all - all but the reading - happens while I knit.

Showing the knitting will have to wait - the light is so bad here in January that you'd not be too impressed with what I'm making if I took a picture of it during these dark days. In the meantime, let me tell you about Pan's Labyrinth.

The complications of life in the information age have divorced most of us from our folklore. Early humans resorted to invention in order to understand the mysteries of daily life - go back far enough, you will find stories to explain why the sun rises, why the moon's appearance changes every day. Guillermo del Toro thinks that, as the "external" mysteries are mysterious no longer, storytelling has turned inward - has focussed on the internal mysteries. Pan's Labyrinth explores the internal mysteries carefully - builds them into layers of significance. Only a few of them are apparent to the casual watcher - the most important threads are the invisible little strands, hidden behind the curtain, that hold the whole structure up.

Visually, the movie is gorgeous. Evocative in its use of colour and light, there is a whole story to be found just in the shadows, in the shades. The cinematography perfectly represents the paradox of the parallel universe, the realm of faery that is only a step removed from the daytime world: the two contained in one.

It's a truly excellent piece of work. It's a beautiful, razor-sharp story with all the things that are most important to us humans: longing, fear, loss, cruelty, redemption, hope and dismay.

I loved it.

It was so complicated and yet so simple. The characters are immediately recognisable, though sometimes reinvented. The princess. The servant girl. The spirit guide. The woodsmen. The dictator. There is a wicked stepfather. Other elements: the quest, the trinity, the sacrifice, the terrifying tasks. The violence.

I hated it.

I mean, I hated it. It freaked me out so deeply, I don't know what to do about it. I am not sure whether I can watch it again...because my BluRay player hasn't got a viewing option labelled "Never Show Me This Scene Again". The fairytale part was not the problem. The problem was the aforementioned wicked stepfather, who is a sadistic abomination straight from the pits of hell.

I can handle implied violence - an axe descending towards a shrinking captive, then the scene cuts away and you don't see the moment of contact - but I can't handle the kind of relentless, inhuman brutality in this movie. It all gets screentime. Less than a half hour in, I had my eyes tightly shut and my hands over my ears because I hadn't got to the scan-forward button fast enough to prevent my seeing and hearing a man being bludgeoned to death with a wine bottle, directly on his face.

I had to stop it and go do something else for an hour, during which time I debated whether I would even finish the thing.

I did finish it, but made damn sure I had both hands on the remote - left thumb on "mute" and right thumb on "skip". Also, during my intermission I had checked online reviews to see exactly what other scenes I had to watch out for - a good thing, as it allowed me to scan past the "man who gets tortured with hammer in face" and the "Pale Man monster with eyeballs in his hands, who eats babies" and the "man whose leg is amputated with a handsaw".

Obviously I'm still sorting out my feelings on Pan's Labyrinth. I really do not know which one I mean more: "I loved it" or "I hated it". As far as its intention goes, it's a smashing success. It's truly a fairytale, with all the archetypes which that genre contains. (And for an excellent discussion on that, see this post.)

Modern childrearing shuns the old tales, deeming them too violent for children - and in fact if we saw the fairytales we knew as a child "in living colour", as it were, we'd be horrified: imagine being a fly on the cottage wall while the wolf is eating Granny. Yerch.

But when Little Red and the Woodcutter arrive to save the day, Granny is exhumed from the wolf's belly not as mince, but in one piece - nightcap firmly in place. It's the bizarre appeal of folk tales - the cheerful lacquer we have painted over the dripping gore, hopefully leaving the moral of the stories intact, for the next generation of children to learn from and thrill over.

So I've decided what to do. I'm going to go brush my teeth (had to have cocoa to comfort myself after finishing El Labyrinto del Fauno) and while I'm doing that, I'm going to lacquer over the evil stepfather, firmly closing the shutters before the bottle comes out. I'm going to paint a rosette of fresh crocus on the princess' nightgown, and pretend it protects her from harm. I'm going to wash all the blood off and tell myself that the girl was not afraid, that the faithful maidservant arrived in time, that the doctor wasn't dead after all.

Because I have to go to bed now, and I've just heard a scary story.

I think I loved it.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Save Yourselves

Remember when I reviewed "Casino Royale" and I thought it was pretty much the worst movie ever? Well guess what! I found a worse one!

2012.



Even the name is making me feel queasy. Two years from now, when I spend 365 days feeling unaccountably nauseated and having nightmares, it'll be because of my unconscious, associative memory of this movie.

It's like someone in an editing booth cut the climactic 25 minutes from each of the following disaster movies and taped them together to form a three-hour gauntlet of painful, funny-in-a-bad-way action footage:

- Crimson Tide/Red October/every-submarine-movie-ever-produced ("Someone has got to swim down to where something is jamming the hydraulics! There's not enough oxygen for him to get back! It's a suicide mission!")
- Independence Day ("The White House looks like a little toy with that gigantic ship overtop of it! Oh God, no! There goes the last bastion of freedom and intelligence in the known world!")
- Titanic ("The night is so black, and the sea is so deep! One brave man has the courage to stand facing the o'ermastering ocean, seconds before he perishes as the enormous liner sinks with frightening suddeness beneath the darkness of the waves!")
- Armageddon ("We are on a tiny little planet floating in the vastness of space, at the mercy of ominous planetary alignments and unexpectedly large asteroids! Er, I mean, solar flares! Now don't you feel vulnerable? Good!")
- The Day After Tomorrow ("See how it looks when Mother Nature decides to drown all the humans in snow? or rain? And doesn't the USA look scary with all its prominent buildings and monuments gunnel-deep in precipitation!" Also in this category, "Two-second glimpses of major world landmarks and cultural icons toppling/being engulfed in flames/sinking beneath waves/rolling over screaming populace, or silly Catholics who are sitting there praying as the dome of St Peter's Basilica does a slow pastry-pin manoeuvre through the Piazza San Pietro."
- Volcano ("All that plate-tectonic stuff the geologists have been saying about the San Andreas fault finally turns out to be true! And look at the size of that gee-dee crack down Santa Monica Boulevard!")

But luckily (pick any of the above movies for an example), the YEW-nited States of aMERica has HEEroes! Remember that terrible line from Independence Day (I think), where a Royal Air Force fighter pilot turns to his copilot and says in a posh, relieved accent, "Thank God the Americans are doing SOMETHING, wot?" Record numbers of people died from acute embarrassment in cinemas all over the world.

Spare yourself the agony of wasting three hours of your life which you'll never, ever get back. I hardly ever wish I had never seen a movie - usually there is some redeeming quality, no matter how tiny, to make it worth the watch. I'm sorry to say that even the presence of Chiwetel Ejiofor (y'know - the black guy from Serenity and Kinky Boots?) couldn't save it for me. Also, I usually like John Cusack, but if he's going to keep selling out for huge blockbuster Bay-and-Bruckheimer-style action flicks instead of using his powers for.............

And while looking for links to flesh out that last sentence, I stumbled upon his (apparent) twitter feed, which makes me think I should dedicate the rest of this post to a plea for public funding to set up classrooms in Hollywood production lots so that actors can have access to basic literacy training.

Now I need to go wash my eyes by watching "Everybody's Fine". I'm depressed already, why not have a good wallow-and-cry?

Over and out.

Monday, November 02, 2009

They're in here.

Spoiler Warning: this is a heavy review of an emotionally huge movie.



I went to a movie the other day. I had high hopes for it, and was certainly prepared to have a good time.

I didn't have a good time, though.

I got punched in the gut. Where The Wild Things Are put a whammy on me.

It got released on my birthday, and I thought we might take the kids to it after dinner. I checked parent previews and got the idea it wouldn't be appropriate - I asked a friend and she said this:
Where the Wild Things Are is a dark and disturbing movie. I wished I hadn't seen it...the movie should carry a warning label: for people with happy carefree perfect childhoods only...I am still disturbed, four days later.

I was interested. And I thought, I pretty much had a happy carefree childhood, I should be golden.

Wrong.

Because I am a human...because I was a child, and have come full-circle to parenthood, Wild Things was a sucker punch.

The Maurice Sendak book, which of course everyone has read, is a terse and symbolic story of a child's defiance, punishment, and capitulation. During his punishment (sent to his room), a jungle grows up around him and he sets sail across an ocean, in a private boat. He arrives at a strange land full of strange creatures: Wild Things. They threaten to eat him, but he tames them with magic, and they crown him king.

There are several pages, in the middle of the book, with no words on them. Max's adventure is barely narrated at all - and his emotions are only named in one tiny line - "Max was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all." Aside from that line, the reader is left to infer what she will about what's going on in Max's head.

The movie is, on the surface, significantly different from the book. (Which - okay, the book has, what, 8 pages? and the movie takes nearly two hours, so you'd expect some fleshing-out.) In reality, though, it is not different at all. Every event, every extra character, every change made by the writers, seems perfectly natural to the original text.

Max's journey to the place where the wild things are is, like in the book, a turning inward. The place where the wild things are is a manifestation of his internal landscape as, in fact, the wild things themselves are manifestations of Max, his family members, his habits, his fears, his longings. Their characters are not static - they keep shifting as power dynamics change, as Max's will first unites, then divides them. The wild things are often children - they submit to his kingship, relieved to have an authority figure again.

This theme surfaces again and again throughout the movie, as characters admit their need for "a king". They need guidance, they want someone to look after them and make everything all right. (It's significant that Max, in his real life, doesn't live with his father - the reason is never made clear. We don't know whether the father is dead, or just gone.)

For a while Max becomes that authority they need (while at the same time, one of the wild things has become Max's father figure), but soon the wild things discover, as Max once did, that nobody has enough power to make everything all right.

Parents and children, and the hurt they inflict on one another, is a huge theme in this movie. There is one scene that cut me right to the bone. Judith, a wild thing who has always been more or less skeptical about this upstart king, has a jeering match with Max. No words are said, but she and Max just mock and roar more and more loudly at each other, him imitating her with a look of contempt on his face. She is in a trench, looking up at him (the only way he would be taller than she is), and after she screams at him for the last time she cries out, before he has a chance to answer her, "YOU CAN'T DO THAT BACK TO ME!"

He stops, taken aback.

"YOU CAN'T BE UPSET!" she yells. "We can be upset but you can't get upset! You're the king! If we say 'I'll eat you up', you have to say [gently] 'oh no! what'll I do! don't eat me!'"

Max stares at her. You can see the realisation of what he's done - the same thing that has been done to him - on his face. Then he turns around and walks away.

It is gut-wrenching.

I am a parent who has anger problems. Thank God I am not a hitter, but sometimes things escalate. I push, they push back, and then - well, I am ashamed to say that I, too, have imitated my daughter's words or voice, which she has used to me out of hurt and impotent anger. I have turned it around on her and have wounded her, deliberately, by using my position of power to subdue her, demean her.

It seemed harmless at the time. It seemed like a way to show her how it made me feel when she said that - how it felt to have someone talk to you that way. But what she needed from me...what she always needs from me...is for me to be the parent, the adult, the mother - the one in control. It's a paradox, because she's trying to hurt me...but she doesn't want to succeed.

When I saw Max and Judith behaving like parent and child, I sobbed. I felt such a conviction of guilt for the few - thankfully - times in our lives when I have done this to my own child. I had heard those exact words from her. "You can't get upset! You shouldn't imitate me!" And once, heartbreakingly, "I'm just a child Mummy!" Watching this movie, I remembered what I had forgotten. I knew it as a child, knew it right at the core of my soul. I remembered that fear I felt when I pushed her, hoping against hope that she would react with love and not anger. That she would reach out instead of lashing out.

It's not too much to say that Where the Wild Things Are changed my life. It absolutely wounded me. It reached out of the screen, tore me out of my Now, and shoved me back into my Then. It reminded me what it was like to be powerless, to trust out of necessity. It reminded me what it was like to burn with rage and helplessness, to lash out in pain, needing to smash and destroy. And it reminded me what it was like to want, so badly, to be treated with gentleness, to be treasured above all else - even just to be given the gift of my mother's gaze. Without anger, without distraction.

If you had told me a week ago that a movie could make me feel this way, could double me over in pain, make me run home to my children, make me change the way I am with them, I'd have laughed out loud. A movie, though, is just a vehicle for a voice. The message can be a teeny little folded up thing that flies inside you disguised as laughter, disguised as fantasy, imagination, nonsense.....and then when you've lowered your defenses, taken it in and given it a place to Be, it unfolds itself. You look at it differently. It's a part of you. You understand what you've really been seeing.

That moment of comprehension can be devastating.

I don't know whether you, in particular, should go see it, or not. I will say that it's the best movie I've seen in probably a decade. I'll also say that I'm buying the soundtrack, and I'm buying the DVD, and then the special edition DVD, and then the ten-year anniversary director's cut DVD box set, and then....you get the idea.

A lot of people don't like this movie. It's painful - no doubt about it. And a lot of people probably don't understand this movie - you should have heard some of the people in the theatre. They were mystified, and slightly resentful. "That wasn't in the book!" But, for my part, I came away changed - and for the better. As I said to my sister, "Run, don't walk."


Photo from IMdb, used totally without the permission of WarnerBros.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Putting Paid

Oh Buffy, thank you. THANK YOU.

WATCH BUFFY DEAL WITH EDWARD.

I tried to embed this, but the blogger format cut off the entire right side of the scene. Watch it though - it's so worth it, even if you haven't seen either show.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Blown away.

I've just finished watching the most extraordinary.....thing I've ever seen. Hilarious, interesting, creative, quirky, gut-wrenching social commentary.

It's $4.99 on iTunes or you can get the DVD for around $10, but do yourself a favour and try to watch it cold - no IMDB, no Wiki, no forums, no trailers or spoilers.

Wow. Just......Wow.

Saturday, April 05, 2008

Because if you mean what I think you mean, my uncles are going to bitch-slap you.

Mr Half Soled Boots and I were watching Big Brother 9 a few nights ago. One of the houseguests, a Texan, is the last one left of the house's two obligatory gay guys. After behaving like an arrogant and duplicitous asshat for the last several weeks, then bursting into "crocodile tears" in a last desperate bid for votes, he finally got evicted. Once out of the house, he turned on the smarm full blast to charm the show's host, Julie Chen. He did the double-hand-handshake, flashed his too-white teeth and repeated the annoying and pervasive (and usually false) phrase, "it's all good".

Mr HSB snorted in disgust and remarked, "They're all arrogant like that."

I glanced at him and said suspiciously, "Who are 'all like that'?"

He shook his head, reached for another handful of popcorn, and said disdainfully, "Texans."

Sunday, July 15, 2007

You thought I'd...what is the phrase? come quietly.

Order of the Phoenix Spoilers Ahead. A Tonne of Them.


I saw it. I saw it, and it was as if heaven itself opened up and gave me a glimpse, one stolen glimpse, of a Film Nirvana I had only dreamt of.

This. THIS is a movie.

The opening scene is everything it should be. The new, more ominous Dudley is perfect, though I feel a diction coach could have been usefully employed there. As in the novel, Harry is hanging around the park, which is just as dilapidated, drought-ridden, and foreboding as the book describes.

The broomstick evacuation from Privet Drive is marvellous. Tonks is only onscreen for a brief time, but those few moments make me long for Half-Blood Prince, when we should get to see more of her. (She's Ellie from About A Boy, by the way.) Marvellous, too, is Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

The one problem I have with the Headquarters scenes is that most of the Kreacher subplot is cut out. Critically, the closet-clean-out scene is missing, and consequently movie viewers who haven't read the books will have some catching up to do when they see Half-Blood Prince and start theorizing on Horcruxes. Regulus Black isn't mentioned, nor is Dumbledore's brother. Interestingly, though, they did include the Grawp subplot, which could be a clue as to the role giants will play in Deathly Hallows. (Five days, in case you've lost track.)

Now, Dolores Umbridge. There aren't many bad things to say about Imelda Staunton, who has become one of my most-admired actresses after her performance in Vera Drake. She does an excellent job as Umbridge, and gives a shudderingly good portrayal of her manic side during the interrogation scene when she threatens Harry with the Cruciatus Curse. Interestingly, though, the film never reveals that she actually ordered the Little Whingeing Dementor attack. Nor do we see the Firenze-as-Divination-Teacher sequences, or hear much from the centaurs at all. This is not critical, probably, though it's one more way in which viewers who skip the books will know a disappointingly truncated Potter-verse.

The movie's greatest strength is in its subtlety. I read a review from another blogger who said that she "didn't get the sense that we shared what Harry was going through". I couldn't disagree more. Harry's emotions and all their accompanying struggles were plainly evident in the cinematography. The weather, the music, the lighting, the camera angles - not to mention Daniel's growing acting talent - all reflected what was going on behind Harry's glasses. I was particularly impressed with a subtle serpent sound effect they kept putting behind some close-ups of Harry's profile. It was a small, quiet rattle - very brief, but it absolutely established the connection between Harry and Voldemort without anyone having to spell it out onscreen. Conspicuously - and most gratifyingly - absent is the sullenness that is all too evident in the novel. What comes across in the film is fear and helplessness - and the viewer feels it too. I spent much of the two hours, fourteen minutes either on the edge of my seat or pressed back into the padding as if trying to wriggle my way inside. It was very, very scary. Which brings me to my next note.

ATTENTION IDIOTS WHO BROUGHT THEIR TWO YEAR OLDS TO THIS MOVIE. You are very bad parents. If I had any power whatsoever to have you slapped upside your stupid heads, please believe I would be exercising it right now.

Impressively, the directors and editors spent many key moments of screen time developing the characters and setting them up for events in Half-Blood Prince. In previous films, I often felt there was more of an interest in the "Wow" effect of spells, levitating things, tiny fairies, twinkling lights, and cool tricks than in the underlying stories. In Order of the Phoenix, it looks like the filmmakers have finally acknowledged the deeper, more important storyline. There is definitely a sense of inexorable motion toward a climactic ending, in that when you finish this movie, you feel like you, too, have to get ready to face whatever's coming. You feel like you should go to the bathroom, get more Wine Gums, and settle in for a screening of Half-Blood Prince.

The friendship between Ron and Hermione deepens. This is done perfectly - absolutely perfectly, an ordinary exchange given intimacy in sound editing, a few warm camera angles, some set arrangements wherein Ron and Hermione are on one sofa, and Harry on another - all little things, and maybe easy to miss, but the discerning moviegoer will raise an eyebrow and utter a speculative "hmmm..." Similarly, Ginny is a quiet observer of the doomed Harry-Cho romance, with a few good facial expressions that are serious, perhaps a little disappointed, but never crossing the line into either moping or melodrama. I look forward to seeing her emerge in HBP as the very strong character Rowling gives her. In this film, we do get to see her blossoming talent as a witch, too - though there is no mention of her "Bat Bogey Hex", she does a fantastic reducto, as in the novel.

Speaking of the reducto charm, I must comment that I am not at all impressed with the way in which the films have handled the spells. It has always annoyed me, for example, that expelliarmus was given such force in the movies - the victim often flies fifteen feet backwards and lands with a crash and a cloud of dust (the notable exception being Snape's disarming of Lupin at the Shrieking Shack in Prisoner of Azkaban). Even in Order of the Phoenix, which is the smoothest and most emotionally deep of them all, there are entirely too many big bangs, flashing lights, grandiose flourishes, and flying bodies. To their credit, there is a scene in the Room of Requirement in which Harry is trying to teach people not to wave their wands so much while doing expelliarmus, with the result that the victim's wand simply flicks away, as it does in the novel. I rather wish they had stuck with the understated approach throughout, but at least they've come 'round to it in the end.

The subtler charms effects are most apparent in the final scene in the Department of Mysteries. I was sort of dreading this scene, and wondering how they would handle all the advanced magic contained therein, and how Michael Gambon's Dumbledore would stand up to Ralph Fiennes' Voldemort. I needn't have worried. The exchange of curses between the Death Eaters and the Order is most impressive, taking on an almost gunfire rapidity. Most of the time they use nonverbal spells, which brings a sense of desperation and haste to the battle. One notable exception is the avada kedavra curse with which Bellatrix Lestrange kills Sirius.

The exchange of magic between Dumbledore and Voldemort is nothing short of fantastic. You don't get the impression that poor Michael Gambon is having trouble keeping up. In fact, I would argue that Michael Gambon becomes Dumbledore in this scene, and proves his worth to all those who have dismissed him as an inadequate replacement for Richard Harris. He is understated, down-to-earth, shrewd, and more than a match for the Dark Lord. Richard Harris had more of the doddering about him - Gambon's energy is perfect for a Dumbledore-At-War. He has a compelling connection with Harry, as well. During Harry's possession by Voldemort, Dumbledore is not thrown for a second. He handles it slightly differently than in the book, but his response is succinct, pitying, loving, and implacable all at the same time.

One thing I particularly liked about the film is one key change the writers made to Sirius' death scene. Sirius and Harry are standing near the veiled archway, firing curses at the Death Eaters, when Sirius suddenly shouts, "Well done, James!" It almost stops your heart. There is just time to catch a confused impression of a startled Harry, and feel a surge of foreboding at the exultant look on Sirius' face, before he is hit with Bellatrix' curse. This is almost the only reference in the film to Sirius' emotions towards Harry, and his indulgent fantasies about Harry replacing his best friend. The beauty of it is, you don't need to see all that background - with one little sentence, all is revealed.

It has often been noted that the novels' progression reflects the growing maturity of their readers. This is equally true of the films. Philosopher's Stone was flashy, shallow, overdrawn and juvenile; Chamber of Secrets only slightly less so. Azkaban was darker, more interesting, funnier and slightly more complex. Goblet of Fire took things to a new level, but still I felt that Voldemort was given too theatrical a voice and too dramatic a manner, and that Harry was not as strong and complex a character as he deserved to be. Order of the Phoenix has suddenly upped the ante. The dark is darker, the spells more dangerous. The magical world changes in this movie, from floating candles and Golden Snitches to actual, life-or-death, bloodletting. There is more at stake, and everyone, from the director to the sound editor to bloody Emma Watson, has stepped up.

I intend to move heaven and earth to see this movie as many times as I can manage before it's out of theatres. I will do my damnedest to get to an IMAX screening. I will haunt the theatres when Half-Blood Prince is released next November.

Seriously. Run -- don't walk.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Early Childhood Education, DisneyPixar Style

Spoilers ahead, if you care.
-----------------------------------------------

We went to see Ratatouille on the weekend. I loved it - it was wonderful. The five-year-old liked it, but the three-year-old was bored. Why was she bored? The film is one hour and fifty minutes long.

I can heartily recommend it to all adults and most children. There was nothing really scary at all, although for those of you who disapprove of children seeing adult smoochies, there were a few brief kissy scenes.

HOWEVER. This is from the same guy that was behind The Incredibles, and I must say I'd like to ask him a few questions about what he considers appropriate subject matter for children. In The Incredibles, the subject of suspected adultery pervades. I realize this is over most kids' heads, but come on: a wife finding a long blonde hair on her husband's suit jacket? Or her overhearing a phone conversation which she construes as her husband making plans to meet his lover? Or the teenage daughter saying "Mom and Dad's marriage could be in danger!" Or the 'other woman' making eyes at Mr Incredible over the dinner table, running her finger around the edge of her champagne glass and saying "How do you like everything?"

In Ratatouille, the questionable thematic element is the discovery by the bad guy that one character is the illegitimate son of another character. There is a DNA test and all. The central conflict between bad and good consists of this mean guy trying to keep the son from his rightful inheritance by hiding his paternity.

Does this not seem slightly mature for small kids? Now, again I acknowledge that, nine times out of ten, kids are going to tune out this part of the plot. But I also give my kids credit for sensing things that filmmakers think they won't pick up on. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if I get asked a "How could that guy not know he had a son, and who's the mummy?" question. If you're not sure you want your kids to be asking questions whose honest answers may include the words "affair", "romance", "pregnant" or "paternity test", consider yourself warned.


Of course, that won't stop me buying it, because it's Freakin' Fantastic. I am but human, after all, and Ratatouille was nothing short of amazing.

___________________________

I have bad news about Charlotte's stocking. I have lost the chart for it. I'm SURE it's here somewhere, but if I don't find it in the next few days I will have to order another one. I really don't want to lose my momentum due to a lack of chart.

And Gyrid is finished, but sadly despite swatching and spot-on gauge it's freakishly huge and requires ripping right back to cast-on.

And I had my five Dulaan items ready but two of them accidentally found their way into the Salvation Army box and got donated. So I guess if I do win some kind of prize for making five, I shall have to decline it.

And I am at a standstill on my Sockapalooooza socks, because I need another ball of yarn. I bought two balls, thinking "all sock patterns take two balls", then halfway through I realized that Cookie A's Gothic Spire is not like "all sock patterns". I just hope the store has another ball in the same dye lot, and that nobody has bought it by the time I get around to driving the 45 minutes it takes to get there.



I don't want to sound like Sybill Trelawney, but I am told that Mercury has been in retrograde. After all this crap I'm starting to think there's something in it.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Am I Just Too Old For This Kind of Nonsense?

----I am compelled to note that there may be spoilers ahead. If you care.----


Have just finished watching Casino Royale. I just have a few questions. And a comment or two.

1- What, oh what, is up with Daniel Craig's accent? One minute it's American, the next it's northern Europe, the next it's London's East Side. (All right: east, west, whatever. Like I even know.)

2- That chick at The Ocean Club? Mrs. Demetrios? You could grate cheese on her chest, that's how sharp the ribs were, poking out of her plunging neckline. I mean, I know thin is in, but I'm asking whether anyone actually finds this attractive? Aren't they afraid they might poke their eyes out on her clavicles? Or maybe lose their manhood by careless handling of her razor-sharp hipbones?

3- Who is this guy my boy Daniel was chasing through the construction site in Madagascar at the beginning: Spiderman? Dude was comin' out all Cirque du Soleil style, doing superpower flips and jumps and with the amazing stamina, I thought he was on drugs. I seriously did. I was watching this and first of all said, aloud, "I have not seen such impressive hijinks and tricks since Buffy", and then thought "Okay, we're setting up the plot here - this is going to be 'Bond against a sinister band of international steroid profiteers.'"

4- To the executive producer, or whoever is in charge of casting, a few guidelines:
- Muscles do not a leading man make.
- Ditto for a craggy countenance.
- When a man is that honed, the viewer really notices the ears. Give it some thought. Slightly longer hair, maybe?
- Fleming's Bond is charming. A nice, enigmatic smile is a must. Goofy squint-eyed, toothy, Cletis-the-Slack-Jawed-Yokel smirk? not so sexy.

5- The whole tenderness thing with the girl and the yacht and the azure Adriatic was completely over the top. See number 4, above: this Bond had the emotional depth of a Tamagotchi. We, as viewers, were totally not invested in this contrived halcyon week of love, or whatever it was supposed to be, as Mr. Taut Biceps was just not making us feel it. We were using the little light to check our watches. People were whispering to their seatmates, "Whoa, that Big Gulp just caught up with me - back in a sec." We were all drumming our fingers, waiting for the ax to fall and find out just how many sides this chick was playing. Which brings me to my next point.

6- To the writers: Try not to give quite so big a signal. We like to not know that the double-crossing, or what have you, is going on, if at all possible. We like to be surprised. Think Memento. Think Usual Suspects. Think the floor of the Bellagio vault.

7- Oh, and one more thing. I think MI-6 should invest in some first aid courses for their operatives. I mean, I know how to revive a newly-drowned person, and I spend my days sitting around knitting, reading "Richard Scarry's Biggest Word Book Ever" three times in a row, and washing dishes. I make Kraft Dinner almost every day, for goodness' sake. There is No Way a person like me should know more about CPR than a secret agent. Please. I can only suspend my disbelief so far, and I'm afraid the (drum roll) Amazing Flying Grandini Trapeze Show (see number 3, above) stretched it to the limit.


I need some good film, stat, to wash away this vile Hollywood taste. This situation might call for an emergency screening of my favourite movie. Or maybe my second favourite movie. Looks like I'll be up 'til 3:00 AM again.