Now, I know that the word "tour" as in "I once was on tour through the human body a la The Fantastic Voyage" is pronounced "too-er." But once upon a time, a bunch of idiots that I barely know (as in, lived in close proximity to for 2 years) were convinced that it was pronounced "tore." Which is the French pronunciation of it, as in "The Battle of Tours took place in the first millennium A.D." Which is what I told them at the time, but those idiots, you know, they're really stubborn and they outnumbered me three to one (well, 2.5 to 1, cause one was really short. I won't name names here, Mike), so I just kept silent on it, because I had no outside evidence, just my word for it.
At the time, I suspected that they had been taught to say it frog-style by their parents as some sort of cruel joke that parents invent. I now know that I was right.
I was listening to Death Cab for Cutie (iTunes DJ. It's not like I scour my library for instances of the word "tour" appearing in song. I mean, I have a separate playlist for that.) when suddenly I heard the word "tourists" pronounced "too-rists" not "tore-ists." That's right, the lead singer of Death Cab for Cutie pronounces it the same way that I say it. The song is "Why You'd Want to Live Here." You can listen to it for yourself to see that I'm right.
26.5.09
22.5.09
My Two Cents on Three Movies From the Winter (now out on DVD)
I recently watched The Spirit, Defiance and Valkyrie. I feel moved to speak on them, as people sometimes watch movies they didn't (or shouldn't) when they're new on DVD.
The Spirit
In a word: a cartoon. It's odd, but Frank Miller writes gritty and bloody comics where bones get crunched and people die off left and right. But his movie seems less bloody than Watchmen was. Heck, it was less graphic than Defiance. In the first five minutes, a man's head is torn off his body (ironically, Frank Miller in a cameo role) but we see only glimpses of it, enough for the viewer to understand that the head has vacated the shoulders, but not really enough to be "Oh my god! That guy lost his head!" And it seems pretty bloodless. This is followed by a prolonged fight between Samuel L. Jackon's character (the Octopus, never really explained) and Gabriel Macht's character (the Spirit, explained) in which they inflict grievous bodily harm upon each other without being hurt. Accompanied by cartoon sound effects.
Actually, that's how I'd describe the movie, bloodless. Another good description would be "Gabriel Macht and a Number of Attractive Hollywood Actresses (ft. Samuel L. Jackson)." Because, really, like the comic characters they're meant to portray, they're pretty two dimensional. Don't get me wrong, I love Will Eisner, but The Spirit was a Sunday insert that ran from 1940-52 and enjoyed the "privileges" that the era afforded to comics of the time (i.e. racist caricatures). So there's actually no characters at all, but characterizations. They're centered around their eccentricities.
One final note; Frank Miller has an absurdist streak. Especially with the Octopus. You'll see Samuel L. Jackson wearing a kimono and later an SS uniform. If you just go with it, and don't search for a deeper meaning, you'll be fine.
Defiance
I'll admit, sometimes the lines are pretty blunt with the moral lessons. There's a point (note that it comes after he's killed a bunch of collaborators) where Daniel Craig's character states that they should not become animals just because they're being hunted like animals. Nonetheless, they resort to some pretty savage actions, including fighting over food and bludgeoning a captured German to death. Of course, they are facing extermination, so... Interestingly enough, the film often doesn't comment afterwards on these moments, especially since there are a number of poignant points to make (revenge isn't fulfilling/revenge is fulfilling; armed conflict has it's purpose/armed conflict serves no purpose). Instead, it saves moral judgement for the character's lines.
This helps illustrate the issue with this movie. It wants to be an objective reporter, simply relaying events and letting us feel empathy for the characters on the strength of their portrayals. But then they writers have gone and played with facts. The eager eyed teenage brother was actually the second eldest (33), but instead they went for a stereotypical "even in war, the young find love" story. Oh, and they fight a whole platoon of Germans along with a Panther tank and then it ends. Worth your time? Sure, if there's nothing better on TV.
Valkyrie
I agree with the German critics who said that Tom Cruise wasn't charismatic enough as Von Stauffenberg. Apparently, in the real German Resistance, he was an electrifying force that inspired his comrades into action. Throughout most of Valkyrie though, he's just bumming them out. Every time another person orders him to do something, he refuses to do it unless they do it his way, or he states that it can't be done. Kenneth Brannagh is in it, and Brannagh is generally solid in all his work, so I would've liked to see more of him. Instead, he's in it for an early attempt to kill Hitler and later for his suicide (I'd say spoiler alert, but hey, it's HISTORY). Otherwise, he probably didn't deserve second billing.
You can tell that this is the product of the writers' intent conflicting with the director's intent. The writers wanted a talkie. Singer wanted a thriller. They created a hybrid beast that isn't surprising or action-oriented enough to be a thriller, likely because the viewer knows (or at least, I hope they do) that the plot is doomed to fail, yet isn't cerebral enough to be the talkie the writers wanted. What you get instead is the main characters in buildings with cutscenes to places where stuff is going on. Oh, and the accents are ridiculous. Characters (apparently due to country of origin of the actor) talk in a variety. British, American, German, they're all in there. And it's just distracting. Really, just make them all speak the same. Or at least write in a line like "He's Bavarian" or something to explain it away.
You could manage to watch this movie once in your life. You won't be moved, or impressed, but hey, you won't feel let down. It's not a masterpiece, but it's not bad.
The Spirit
In a word: a cartoon. It's odd, but Frank Miller writes gritty and bloody comics where bones get crunched and people die off left and right. But his movie seems less bloody than Watchmen was. Heck, it was less graphic than Defiance. In the first five minutes, a man's head is torn off his body (ironically, Frank Miller in a cameo role) but we see only glimpses of it, enough for the viewer to understand that the head has vacated the shoulders, but not really enough to be "Oh my god! That guy lost his head!" And it seems pretty bloodless. This is followed by a prolonged fight between Samuel L. Jackon's character (the Octopus, never really explained) and Gabriel Macht's character (the Spirit, explained) in which they inflict grievous bodily harm upon each other without being hurt. Accompanied by cartoon sound effects.
Actually, that's how I'd describe the movie, bloodless. Another good description would be "Gabriel Macht and a Number of Attractive Hollywood Actresses (ft. Samuel L. Jackson)." Because, really, like the comic characters they're meant to portray, they're pretty two dimensional. Don't get me wrong, I love Will Eisner, but The Spirit was a Sunday insert that ran from 1940-52 and enjoyed the "privileges" that the era afforded to comics of the time (i.e. racist caricatures). So there's actually no characters at all, but characterizations. They're centered around their eccentricities.
One final note; Frank Miller has an absurdist streak. Especially with the Octopus. You'll see Samuel L. Jackson wearing a kimono and later an SS uniform. If you just go with it, and don't search for a deeper meaning, you'll be fine.
Defiance
I'll admit, sometimes the lines are pretty blunt with the moral lessons. There's a point (note that it comes after he's killed a bunch of collaborators) where Daniel Craig's character states that they should not become animals just because they're being hunted like animals. Nonetheless, they resort to some pretty savage actions, including fighting over food and bludgeoning a captured German to death. Of course, they are facing extermination, so... Interestingly enough, the film often doesn't comment afterwards on these moments, especially since there are a number of poignant points to make (revenge isn't fulfilling/revenge is fulfilling; armed conflict has it's purpose/armed conflict serves no purpose). Instead, it saves moral judgement for the character's lines.
This helps illustrate the issue with this movie. It wants to be an objective reporter, simply relaying events and letting us feel empathy for the characters on the strength of their portrayals. But then they writers have gone and played with facts. The eager eyed teenage brother was actually the second eldest (33), but instead they went for a stereotypical "even in war, the young find love" story. Oh, and they fight a whole platoon of Germans along with a Panther tank and then it ends. Worth your time? Sure, if there's nothing better on TV.
Valkyrie
I agree with the German critics who said that Tom Cruise wasn't charismatic enough as Von Stauffenberg. Apparently, in the real German Resistance, he was an electrifying force that inspired his comrades into action. Throughout most of Valkyrie though, he's just bumming them out. Every time another person orders him to do something, he refuses to do it unless they do it his way, or he states that it can't be done. Kenneth Brannagh is in it, and Brannagh is generally solid in all his work, so I would've liked to see more of him. Instead, he's in it for an early attempt to kill Hitler and later for his suicide (I'd say spoiler alert, but hey, it's HISTORY). Otherwise, he probably didn't deserve second billing.
You can tell that this is the product of the writers' intent conflicting with the director's intent. The writers wanted a talkie. Singer wanted a thriller. They created a hybrid beast that isn't surprising or action-oriented enough to be a thriller, likely because the viewer knows (or at least, I hope they do) that the plot is doomed to fail, yet isn't cerebral enough to be the talkie the writers wanted. What you get instead is the main characters in buildings with cutscenes to places where stuff is going on. Oh, and the accents are ridiculous. Characters (apparently due to country of origin of the actor) talk in a variety. British, American, German, they're all in there. And it's just distracting. Really, just make them all speak the same. Or at least write in a line like "He's Bavarian" or something to explain it away.
You could manage to watch this movie once in your life. You won't be moved, or impressed, but hey, you won't feel let down. It's not a masterpiece, but it's not bad.
4.2.09
Storytime
Old stories are the best stories. It's said that there are no new stories to tell, that all stories are old stories. So all heroes are Christ, and Christ is Dionysus and Dionysus is Osiris or Horus. I love old stories, especially the folklore and myths of cultures. I love tricksters as well. Odysseus, Loki, Anansi, Coyote, they're all my favorites. In modern writing, tricksters are complicated rogues weaving complicated puzzles for complicated villains. But in those old stories, they were simple people who were clever for their simplicity.
There are also stories told about the world of history that possess this element of simplicity. Here are two of my favorites (both probably apocraphyl).
In Gordium, which was then called Phrygia, there was no king. So the people consulted the Oracle, who told them that the next man driving an ox-cart into the city would become their legitimate king. And, because it was a city, this is just what happened. In recognition of the event, a complicated, twisted, intricate knot was tied between a post and the ox-cart and was left there to commemorate the new king. Whoever could untie this knot, it was later said, would rule Asia. But, of course, there was no loose end to force through loops, and even if one could had existed, the knot was tight and unworkable. After a time, Phrygia gave way to the Persian Empire, and the Persians gave way to the Greeks.
In the 4th century BC, Alexander the Great entered the city. Here he encountered the knot, and was informed by the priests of Gordium of the nature of the prophecy surrounding it.
Alexander, when faced with this puzzle, simply drew his sword and cut the knot in two.
In the mid-20th Century, NASA and the Soviet Space Program were engaged in what we know now as the famous Space Race, which has since fallen from public favor. Both programs encountered a peculiar problem: zero-gravity rendered their pens totally unworkable, as there was no force to move the ink in it's tube in the conventional pen. Naturally, the importance of being able to record data by hand was not lost on either of the programs, and both the US and the USSR set out to solve the problem.
The United States engaged in extensive research and design, spending perhaps millions in taxpayer dollars, designing the pen that wrote upside-down and in zero-gravity. This is the Agency which created Tang and freeze-dried ice cream, so it is not unbelievable that they could and would design such a pen. Naturally, as in any case where American drive and ingenuity is applied, the pen was a success, achieving it's goal and becoming a knick-knack for people to buy for nephews and distant relations and so forth and so on.
The Soviets decided to go with the pencil.
Alexander's story illustrates an excellent example in thinking outside the box. Just because someone creates a boundary does not mean that boundary does in fact exist. Sometimes, just tackling the problem is the way to go. I also find it humorous because the fact is, Alexander cheated.
The Space-Pen Program story is, of course, a total lie. An independent businessman created the space pen for just $1 million because the pencil was a potential hazard both for fire and towards equipment (basically, think of all those pointy nubs you break off your pencils, mechanical or otherwise. Now imagine them flying undetected through the air and lodging in machines or your eye). And both NASA and the Soviets used the same model pen. But the basic point the story is trying to make remains a valid one: sometimes, the best solution to a complicated problem is a simple answer.
There are also stories told about the world of history that possess this element of simplicity. Here are two of my favorites (both probably apocraphyl).
In Gordium, which was then called Phrygia, there was no king. So the people consulted the Oracle, who told them that the next man driving an ox-cart into the city would become their legitimate king. And, because it was a city, this is just what happened. In recognition of the event, a complicated, twisted, intricate knot was tied between a post and the ox-cart and was left there to commemorate the new king. Whoever could untie this knot, it was later said, would rule Asia. But, of course, there was no loose end to force through loops, and even if one could had existed, the knot was tight and unworkable. After a time, Phrygia gave way to the Persian Empire, and the Persians gave way to the Greeks.
In the 4th century BC, Alexander the Great entered the city. Here he encountered the knot, and was informed by the priests of Gordium of the nature of the prophecy surrounding it.
Alexander, when faced with this puzzle, simply drew his sword and cut the knot in two.
In the mid-20th Century, NASA and the Soviet Space Program were engaged in what we know now as the famous Space Race, which has since fallen from public favor. Both programs encountered a peculiar problem: zero-gravity rendered their pens totally unworkable, as there was no force to move the ink in it's tube in the conventional pen. Naturally, the importance of being able to record data by hand was not lost on either of the programs, and both the US and the USSR set out to solve the problem.
The United States engaged in extensive research and design, spending perhaps millions in taxpayer dollars, designing the pen that wrote upside-down and in zero-gravity. This is the Agency which created Tang and freeze-dried ice cream, so it is not unbelievable that they could and would design such a pen. Naturally, as in any case where American drive and ingenuity is applied, the pen was a success, achieving it's goal and becoming a knick-knack for people to buy for nephews and distant relations and so forth and so on.
The Soviets decided to go with the pencil.
Alexander's story illustrates an excellent example in thinking outside the box. Just because someone creates a boundary does not mean that boundary does in fact exist. Sometimes, just tackling the problem is the way to go. I also find it humorous because the fact is, Alexander cheated.
The Space-Pen Program story is, of course, a total lie. An independent businessman created the space pen for just $1 million because the pencil was a potential hazard both for fire and towards equipment (basically, think of all those pointy nubs you break off your pencils, mechanical or otherwise. Now imagine them flying undetected through the air and lodging in machines or your eye). And both NASA and the Soviets used the same model pen. But the basic point the story is trying to make remains a valid one: sometimes, the best solution to a complicated problem is a simple answer.
7.1.09
Deranged (pt 1)
Carl was eating a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich he had fixed for himself, extra bacon, and was staring at the carpet he had just bought and laid out in the family room. It was a good carpet. It was red, but there were alternating blue and green geometrical designs on it. Carl traced them with his eyes. It was the sort of thing that could lose him for hours.
Agnes came up behind him, silent as a cat and tapped him on the shoulder. “What the fuck is that?” she demanded.
“A bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich,” answered Carl.
“No,” said Agnes. “What the fuck is that?” She pointed to the carpet.
“It's our new carpet,” explained Carl.
“Didn't I tell you not to buy a carpet?”
“Well, I bought one anyways.”
Agnes threw up her hands in disgust. “Carl, Jill is gonna give us a carpet. For free.”
“Well,” said Carl, flecks of sandwich spraying from his lips. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want some goddamned fucking gift carpet from your sister? Maybe I want my own carpet, that I bought with my own money, to go in my own house?”
Agnes looked at Carl with a mixture of loathing and pleading. “Do you love me?” she demanded.
Carl paused for a moment.
“Of course I fucking love you,” he said, as if the question were a no-brainer. “What kinda fucking stupid question is that?”
Agnes was still put out. “Why?” she pressed.
“Well, this is just the wrong time to ask that,” said Carl. “I couldn't tell you why just now. I don't know why at a time like this. Ask me after we've had sex, that's a great time. I know why then.”
“Goddammit, Carl! Sometimes, sometimes I just feel like...” Agnes turned and stomped out of the room.
Carl turned back to his sandwich. He could never figure Agnes out. That wild unpredictability had initially drawn him to her, but now... well, it was a fucking chore handling her sometimes.
Agnes stormed back into the room, carrying something. She marched into the middle of the carpet and spun about to face him. Carl could see what she was carrying now. It was her snub nosed Smith and Wesson revolver. She affectionately called it her “rape gun.”
Oooohhhh shit, thought Carl. The BLT dropped out of his hand and onto the table. A strip of half-eaten bacon fell out.
“Carl, sometimes you.... well, you make me feel like I should take the rape gun and just blow my brains out.” Agnes put the gun to her temple, in order to better demonstrate her point.
“Baby,” said Carl. “Honey, baby, sweetie, ba-by.” He started to stand up.
“You're not gonna blow your brains out,” he declared.
“Yes, yes I will, Carl. I'm gonna blow my brains out all over your goddamned fucking carpet!” said Agnes.
“No, you're not. And do you know why?” asked Carl.
“Why?” asked Agnes.
“Because,” said Carl. “You've got too much to live for.”
The funeral for Agnes was held on an overcast and dreary day, as she would've wanted. It was closed casket, which was possibly not the way she would've wanted it, but was a necessity all the same. It was awful for Carl. The whole time Agnes' mother and her sister Jill had gone on and on about how he should have taken Jill's carpet. Still, he made it through the viewing, and then through the burial and then through the reception. Afterwards, he stood in his kitchen, eating a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, and stared out at the carpet, which was rolled up, one end bent over forlornly, sitting in the trash barrel.
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