Thanks to my big sister, Jane, I grew up listening to New Order and other great bands in the eighties. My early memories of NO come from the Substance singles compilation LP, in particular the songs "Bizarre Love Triangle" (of course), "True Faith", "Perfect Kiss", and "Blue Monday". But the very first song on this album is the one that today gives me chills from just thinking about it. One might find "Ceremony" unassuming at first. When it comes to NO singles, many will inevitably skip it in favour of the pure electro-pop joy of their other songs. New Order songs are (for the most part) danceable, uplifting, and upbeat, despite their often obscure and occasionally melancholy lyrics. But not this one.
The type of pop music that New Order creates is nostalgic. This is a pretty common trend since the seventies, when bands began to long for the blissful pop songs of the sixties. But that is not NO's nostalgia. Theirs is more the uncanny sort that makes you feel instantly comfortable (or uncomfortable), like you recognize the music, though you may not connect it with anything you've heard before. (Clearly I'm biased on this point, since, as I mentioned, I grew up listening to this music; but bear with me. I have felt this type of instant nostalgia with several bands since, both new and old, and I am certain that it points to a real phenomenon.) I think New Order reached the peak of this form with the song "Regret" from their 1993 album, Republic. In my opinion, that is one of the greatest pop songs of all time. But I digress.
"Ceremony" feels nostalgic, but it is hardly a pop song. It was written by Joy Division—meaning the members of New Order plus Ian Curtis, but minus Gillian Gilbert—but never properly recorded in studio by them. The only existing recordings of "Ceremony" by Joy Division are a demo and a live version from a show just two weeks before singer Ian Curtis's suicide. I was ecstatic when I discovered a couple of years ago that these recordings existed, and more so that I actually possessed one of them—the demo—on the Joy Division box set, Heart and Soul. It is beautiful and haunting, and it leaves me wanting a proper JD recording, not just the New Order version. Still, NO were faithful to Curtis's memory and voice, and I can't imagine that Joy Division would have created anything more beautiful than their successors did. As on their tribute to Curtis, "Blue Monday", New Order singer Bernard Sumner channels his predecessor and sings with his stirring monotone voice. That spirit would follow the latter band throughout their career. And today I discovered that there exist two versions of "Ceremony" by New Order also! It's like a strike to the heart. How could I not have known! How soon can I find and hear the other! Not soon enough.
Occasionally, this song makes me tear up, but they are not tears of sadness that "Ceremony" causes me, and the song does not make me feel nostalgic for any particular time or thing in my life. The shivers and tears are for the beauty of the object: the divine nature of music and the reality it exposes. Good, honest music bares the soul; and if we listen to it honestly, it frees us from our bodies and minds to connect with the soul of the creator—with life. And the nostalgia is the soul yearning for that connection: remembering a time when it knew no walls, when it was restricted by no mind or matter.
"Ceremony" flew low on my radar for most of my life. I was generally aware of it, but I hadn't connected with it the way I do now. I was one to skip past it to the "good stuff" on Substance, meaning the dancey party songs. I felt a more artificial nostalgia for the songs "Bizarre Love Triangle" (my childhood), "Temptation" (my mid-adolescence, caused by the film, Trainspotting), and "Regret" (adolescence generally); not that I don't think those are great songs. I'm just aware that my feelings towards those songs are very closely tied to times and events in my life. I was more connected to "1963", a rather odd and melancholy dance song about a man, Johnny, who only seems to be able to leave romantic relationships by killing his partner. Thinking about it now, it is a common theme among people who are unable to express themselves in relationships: one feels it is impossible for him to tell his partner that he wants to leave, so the only way out is murder. This is all over film, literature, and theatre. My point is that maybe the affinity I felt with this song was due to difficulties I have had communicating with people. Regardless, I now feel towards no New Order song like I do towards "Ceremony".
Now, perhaps I will contradict myself. I couldn't say precisely why I came to connect with "Ceremony". But it "started" like this: Several years ago, when I was still spinning records at Blow Up, the local indie-mod party, DJ Davy Love would occasionally play "Ceremony" later on in the night, often well after last call (2:00 in Toronto, for those who want to know). Unfortunately, my memory of this period is not entirely clear. I can't remember at which club this happened, though I'm fairly certain it was the El Mocambo, which places this event at least seven years ago. And I can't recall my relationship to the song at the time. I knew it and liked it very much, certainly, but let me go on. One night in particular, I remember catching the last bridge of the song, a rising three-note guitar riff repeating quickly over a beat driven by the hi-hat cymbal. I remember thinking, "I know this. What is it?"
Blow Up was the centre of the mod-britpop-indie universe in Toronto for several years around the turn of the millennium. It wasn't part of a scene; it was the scene, every Saturday for people from as far away as Hamilton, Buffalo, New York, and Detroit (not to speak of the boundless Toronto suburbs). In 2002, I went to our namesake mod party in London, England, and that was nowhere near as popular as our Blow Up in Toronto. Anyway, I attended as a partier, a fan, a young mod, nearly every week from the time I was 18 and a half (that's below legal age in Ontario, for the curious), and eventually I began DJing there, too, crystallizing my taste and feel for the unique and particular music that constitutes a scene like that. There is still an awful lot of music from that period that gives me strong feelings when I hear it, and if I were to compile a list of favourite albums, probably at least half of it would comprise things I fell in love with then. So clearly, I have a nostalgic interest here, and, if I examined more closely, I could probably find that "Ceremony" speaks to my state of mind and my feelings about the mod scene at the time the song struck me. Like, maybe the song is somehow the story of my life then.
It's sad to say that even at that point, in the middle of its tenure, the Blow Up/mod scene was dying in Toronto. (At least the scene as I had known it.) Or rather, it was having an identity crisis. This certainly mirrors my own experience at the time. If I remember correctly, this was soon before the El Mo closed (a sure and sad sign of trouble, though it has reopened since), and Blow Up moved to other, less felicitous venues. After it moved, my heart was no longer in it, and now I don't miss those times. I enjoyed myself, I made good friends, I honed my skill behind the 'tables; I dressed well, I danced hard, and I fell in love. But it's over now, and while very influential, I have no desire to return to that time or to relive it now. In other words, I'm not sad that that part of my life is over, and while "Ceremony" may be connected to an important time of my life, I don't believe that connection is nostalgic. In that "What is this?" moment, I heard the song afresh; it was new to me and out of place and time; it was a sign of things to come. I think that's what it was in the beginning and is still.
The ceremony is the act of recognition, acknowledgment, preparation, and, consequently, transformation. In the ceremony, we prepare to transform, to become new. Is that what this song is about? I don't know. Bernard Sumner himself had to put the early Joy Division recordings of "Ceremony" through graphic equalization to make out the lyrics. But a great song is more than the sum of its individual parts. This is a song written by a troubled man and a band in troubled times. It is a product of a certain time and space, though it persists across those dimensions. It is a credit to the remaining members of Joy Division that they moved on to form New Order and that they paid tribute to Ian Curtis with "Ceremony" (and its b-side "A Lonely Place", also written by JD). It seems to me that they understood the beauty of the song, and would not let death prevent them from giving it to the world. I am very glad that they did.
__
This is why events unnerve me,
They find it all, a different story,
Notice whom for wheels are turning,
Turn again and turn towards this time,
All she asks the strength to hold me,
Then again the same old story,
World will travel, oh so quickly,
Travel first and lean towards this time.
Oh, I'll break them down, no mercy shown,
Heaven knows, its got to be this time,
Watching her, these things she said,
The times she cried,
Too frail to wake this time.
Oh I'll break them down, no mercy shown
Heaven knows, its got to be this time,
Avenues all lined with trees,
Picture me and then you start watching,
Watching forever, forever,
Watching love grow, forever,
Letting me know, forever.
Read on..!
Showing posts with label time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label time. Show all posts
Saturday, 20 January 2024
Friday, 19 January 2024
I love autumn
Here are a couple of artworks I made a few years ago to send to a Young People's Foundation show in Los Angeles.
I think I used summer photos, but I also think these pieces convey the feeling of fall pretty well.
The original images are from somewhere in Montréal—probably Parc Lafontaine or the mountain. Read on..!
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
The internet always remembers?
Does the internet really remember everything? Do we need to teach computers how to forget?
I wonder if it won't just happen "naturally", like by attrition.
I imagine that sooner or later, irrelevant information will be pushed to the bottom of the pile (or search list) and then eventually be "forgotten", if not completely erased. Google already does this to a certain extent, arranging search results by relevance, estimated by factors like how many other sites link to the information and so on.
If a piece of information exists on a computer connected to the internet, but no website links to it, will anyone ever recover that obscure information? And what about when computers disconnect from the internet? Unless their data are cached somewhere (which, admittedly, Google and others do on a large scale), that information is no longer accessible. Also, over time, as formats and computer languages change, much more information will become inaccessible without translation.
Maybe it's just the same as with current information in "legacy" formats: there's a lot of it that exists, but which we are completely unaware of—like in dusty old tomes in libraries that we would have to spend hours or years searching for because it's not indexed. Still it's there.
I understand the ideal of going "off the grid", and avoiding trails of data that can tell others about one's daily habits or personal life. At its simplest, it means I can just go somewhere and no one will know where I am, or I can do something, and no one will know what I'm doing. Without such protection, we end up in Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, never sure if someone is watching, always afraid to act.
It's not about living by the law or not. I'm sure that for many law-abiding citizens, once they believe that someone is watching their every move, they will reconsider some or many of their actions; they will become unnatural, separate from their desires, alienated from their selves.
Of course, time won't help if someone wants to remove some damning information from the internet right away. Facial recognition certainly won't make it any easier. It's almost enough to make me want to give up on Facebook. Sometimes I don't want to worry about someone seeing my photos or personal information (despite security measures).
I do believe that, in time, much digital information will be lost, in the ways I've mentioned and others. As disasters and time have destroyed copious past knowledge, so they will do to current and future knowledge. Most people probably have little to worry about when it comes to their personal information. That is, besides marketers, identity thieves, and future historians and archeologists, few people care about the average person's information. And for the time being, going off the grid can be as simple as leaving the house without your phone and wallet, and paying for things with cash.
We make much of our dependence on technology, and surely much of the talk is true. Perhaps fewer people each year could survive "in the wild"; and the idea doesn't interest them. Can we say that these people are worse off than others? Is it as dangerous as some say to trade our privacy for convenience? Is it harmful to trust technology with our secrets, some of which we would never even tell other people? Read on..!
I wonder if it won't just happen "naturally", like by attrition.
I imagine that sooner or later, irrelevant information will be pushed to the bottom of the pile (or search list) and then eventually be "forgotten", if not completely erased. Google already does this to a certain extent, arranging search results by relevance, estimated by factors like how many other sites link to the information and so on.
If a piece of information exists on a computer connected to the internet, but no website links to it, will anyone ever recover that obscure information? And what about when computers disconnect from the internet? Unless their data are cached somewhere (which, admittedly, Google and others do on a large scale), that information is no longer accessible. Also, over time, as formats and computer languages change, much more information will become inaccessible without translation.
Maybe it's just the same as with current information in "legacy" formats: there's a lot of it that exists, but which we are completely unaware of—like in dusty old tomes in libraries that we would have to spend hours or years searching for because it's not indexed. Still it's there.
I understand the ideal of going "off the grid", and avoiding trails of data that can tell others about one's daily habits or personal life. At its simplest, it means I can just go somewhere and no one will know where I am, or I can do something, and no one will know what I'm doing. Without such protection, we end up in Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, never sure if someone is watching, always afraid to act.
It's not about living by the law or not. I'm sure that for many law-abiding citizens, once they believe that someone is watching their every move, they will reconsider some or many of their actions; they will become unnatural, separate from their desires, alienated from their selves.
Of course, time won't help if someone wants to remove some damning information from the internet right away. Facial recognition certainly won't make it any easier. It's almost enough to make me want to give up on Facebook. Sometimes I don't want to worry about someone seeing my photos or personal information (despite security measures).
I do believe that, in time, much digital information will be lost, in the ways I've mentioned and others. As disasters and time have destroyed copious past knowledge, so they will do to current and future knowledge. Most people probably have little to worry about when it comes to their personal information. That is, besides marketers, identity thieves, and future historians and archeologists, few people care about the average person's information. And for the time being, going off the grid can be as simple as leaving the house without your phone and wallet, and paying for things with cash.
We make much of our dependence on technology, and surely much of the talk is true. Perhaps fewer people each year could survive "in the wild"; and the idea doesn't interest them. Can we say that these people are worse off than others? Is it as dangerous as some say to trade our privacy for convenience? Is it harmful to trust technology with our secrets, some of which we would never even tell other people? Read on..!
Monday, 25 April 2011
First principles
All is one.
I find this assertion to be clear and unassailable. Something exists, and while that something appears to be manifold (i.e., that's how we experience it), it is nonetheless one. No part can be separated from the whole. Therefore everything is one. By "everything" and "all" I mean the world, the universe, reality. Spinoza calls this alternately substance, nature, and god.
One (reality) is also complete (whole), perfect, and infinite.
It is complete because it is everything. It is perfect because it is complete. It is infinite because it comprises all possibilities, past, present, and future—because there can be nothing more, but it has no limit. (For if it had a limit, there would be something else as well, but it is everything and therefore there is nothing else.)
Everything exists. That is, everything possible has happened, is happening, and will happen. In other words, time is an illusion.
Those are the first-ish principles. Read on..!
I find this assertion to be clear and unassailable. Something exists, and while that something appears to be manifold (i.e., that's how we experience it), it is nonetheless one. No part can be separated from the whole. Therefore everything is one. By "everything" and "all" I mean the world, the universe, reality. Spinoza calls this alternately substance, nature, and god.
One (reality) is also complete (whole), perfect, and infinite.
It is complete because it is everything. It is perfect because it is complete. It is infinite because it comprises all possibilities, past, present, and future—because there can be nothing more, but it has no limit. (For if it had a limit, there would be something else as well, but it is everything and therefore there is nothing else.)
Everything exists. That is, everything possible has happened, is happening, and will happen. In other words, time is an illusion.
Those are the first-ish principles. Read on..!
Friday, 5 March 2010
Over a bridge, 2006
Here are some pics I took on a random bike trip into the Junction in 2006.
(See the album here.) Read on..!
(See the album here.) Read on..!
Friday, 19 February 2010
Medieval Times are some odd times
Before I can even begin, I have to add two warnings about the Medieval Times experience: one, if you suffer from asthma, allergies to dust or horses, or any other similar respiratory illness, make sure that you pre-medicate and take any necessary medication with you; two, avoid sitting in the first or second rows. I will explain.
But don't let me frighten you; in the right circumstances, Medieval Times make for some very good times. If you have young children who like this kind of thing—the knights, horses, princes, sword fights-type of thing—then you'll all have a great time. If you are a large group of open-minded folks looking for something different, then you'll have a good time. If you want to take your beau on a date, make sure she's into it first. Also, if you are a group, you'll pay a deep discount, which makes the experience much much better.
The thing was almost a complete surprise to me. I heard on Wednesday that my friend Jacqui Oakley was coming into town from Hamilton on Friday to take in Medieval Times for her birthday—short notice, but as a 9–5er and new homeowner, my Friday plans usually involve a distinct lack of activity, sometimes penetrated by yoga or a video; what I'm saying is I was free. I was also game, having wondered for many years what exactly went on inside the walls of that "castle" on the CNE grounds, formerly the Dominion Government building and the Arts, Crafts, and Hobbies building. (See it here, in the fourth and fifth pairs of pics.) You see, in my early teenage years, I was a Dungeons & Dragons fan, and Tolkien was long my very favourite author. This fascination with history and fantasy has stayed with me, and while I didn't expect Medieval Times to offer a precise reconstruction of the middle ages, I was curious as to precisely what they would offer.
My curiosity was not disappointed.
Here are a couple of immediate observations: Medieval Times is not a history lesson; it is entertainment—dinner theatre to be more precise. The company says that it is committed "to the accuracy of weapons and costumes", but I think I can say that it is not educational—particularly when it comes to the history that it purports to portray. As entertainment—dinner theatre—the audience is expected to participate, to cheer their knight (ours was the Yellow), respond to the unfolding narrative, and, if you like, to join the merriment during the pre-show, where the King's Chancellor will try to rally the crowd with subtle mocking, poor jokes, and a bad English accent.
Also, you will be gouged on drinks (with or without alcohol), and you will have your experience sold back to you in the form of pictures and collectibles.
Still, somehow I didn't have a bad time.
Here's how it goes. After you get your tickets, you receive a coloured crown that represents your knight (and seating area). Then you may have your picture taken with the princess on her throne. Then an usher will guide you into the medievally decorated common area, or "Knights' lounge", or "bar" where you can buy overpriced drinks in cups in the shape of horses' heads and sparkly goblets—if you can get the attention of a bar wench, that is. You can also meet the falconer and one of his birds here. You can visit "The Dungeon" for two dollars (none of us did, so I can't say any more about it). You can take a peek into the stables, and the aviary, which houses a couple more attractive and well behaved falcons. You can peruse the concession stands, "The King's Sale" one is called, and buy prince and princess costumes, child-sized wooden swords and shields, adult-sized replica steel swords and other assorted bits and bobs. I was half expecting to see bongs in the shape of dragons, but no, this is a family event after all. (However, I do recommend that you smuggle booze into the show. There are plenty of opportunities to mix it into a soft drink, in the lounge or at your table.)
I heard there was a court jester about the grounds, but I didn't see him. Eventually, the Chancellor climbs to the stage and offers something in the way of explanation of how the evening's festivities will unfold, and tries to raise a few rallying cries from the audience. Attention at this point is not mandatory, although the Chancellor will act disdainful if you ignore him. I thought a couple of fair-style games of skill and chance would have enhanced the medieval experience. At last, the Chancellor announces that it's time for dinner and the games, and the crowd is ushered into the heart of the castle to the arena.
You sit at arena-style tables, and the metal bowl with handle in front of you gives you an idea of how you will eat your dinner—without utensils. Soon, the games begin! I won't divulge the narrative, partly since I don't think I could reconstruct it accurately and partly because I wouldn't want to spoil it for anyone. But what follows are several acts of horsemanship, jousting, grandstanding, flag-carrying, hand-to-hand combat with a wide assortment of weapons—including swords, axes, morning stars, pike axes, and more, for you nerds out there—falconing, "Hollywood caliber" light shows, and overall, quite a bit of excitement. Sparks fly, knights jump, horses run, people cheer, dust rises, and good wins over evil. (That's not really a spoiler, is it?)
And dinner, well, it's a simple and tasty meal, built around two meat courses—half a roasted chicken and a barbecued rib. (There is a vegetarian option, but I didn't experience it.) The dinner is almost certainly very wasteful, though. I can't imagine that more than one-third of the people there ate the whole thing. There's also the issue of the dust. The games take place on sand, and the action stirs up that sand from the very start. I guarantee that no matter where you sit, your food acquires a fine or not-so-fine layer of dust, but the closer you are to the action, the more dust your food will have. It's possible that the very rear row of seat/tables might avoid this fate, since that row is behind the powerful fans that are supposed to keep the dust down and in the centre of the room, but that row was closed for the show I attended. I can only assume that the city's health department has determined that the amount and quality of dust that gets into the food is not harmful, and frankly, I didn't worry about it that much. (I guess if you eat quickly, you'll get less dust, too ;) There is also the curious experience of eating in the dark
The dust is also the reason I mention asthma and allergy sufferers, like myself. About half an hour into the show, I started to experience the laboured breathing that indicates the charming condition of asthma. Since I've never experienced a full-on asthma attack, and in the last 15 years, I've very seldom had significant trouble breathing, I often do not carry my asthma inhaler with me—as in this case. Perhaps I should have known, but I find no indication on the website that anyone should avoid the show for health reasons. Very unfortunately, this case was more serious than I'd experienced in 20 years! I left the arena for five or ten minutes to calm myself down, and when I returned, I managed to maintain control over my breathing, with difficulty. Naturally, this condition prevented me from focusing on and enjoying the rest of the show. At any rate, I got through it, although the after-effects lasted for a couple of days.
After the show, you can meet the knights in the lounge and continue your souvenir shopping, but all I wanted to do was get out of there.
Overall, my impression of the event is that it fills a strange void in Toronto's entertainment scene. I figure besides the families with children, the seats are filled with either enthusiasts or the curious. The former just love the show and the latter want to know what it's all about. And I guess Toronto has enough of them all to maintain the business. The entertainment is pretty good, but seems aimed at children more than adults. This is fine, since I assume young people and their families constitute the greater part of the audience. But I thought there were several relatively simple ways in which the show could be improved to make it more entertaining for adults, such as the fair games I mentioned, improved choreography, reduced dust clouds, a simpler, but more engaging story. The thing I found most interesting about Medieval Times was the spectacle itself: the fact that it exists at all and people go, the chintzy decorations and lack of atmosphere, the theme park feeling, the limited service and amusements, the people, the cast and staff... It all just seemed so weird.
Finally, unless you are in the enthusiast category, I simply don't recommend paying full price for a ticket (adult $63; under 12 $40; plus taxes). I don't think it's worth it. You're better of looking for or waiting for promotions. (For example, until the end of February 2010, there's a group promotion: four can go for $30 each.)
Have you experienced Medieval Times? Was it as interesting for you as it was for me? Read on..!
But don't let me frighten you; in the right circumstances, Medieval Times make for some very good times. If you have young children who like this kind of thing—the knights, horses, princes, sword fights-type of thing—then you'll all have a great time. If you are a large group of open-minded folks looking for something different, then you'll have a good time. If you want to take your beau on a date, make sure she's into it first. Also, if you are a group, you'll pay a deep discount, which makes the experience much much better.
The thing was almost a complete surprise to me. I heard on Wednesday that my friend Jacqui Oakley was coming into town from Hamilton on Friday to take in Medieval Times for her birthday—short notice, but as a 9–5er and new homeowner, my Friday plans usually involve a distinct lack of activity, sometimes penetrated by yoga or a video; what I'm saying is I was free. I was also game, having wondered for many years what exactly went on inside the walls of that "castle" on the CNE grounds, formerly the Dominion Government building and the Arts, Crafts, and Hobbies building. (See it here, in the fourth and fifth pairs of pics.) You see, in my early teenage years, I was a Dungeons & Dragons fan, and Tolkien was long my very favourite author. This fascination with history and fantasy has stayed with me, and while I didn't expect Medieval Times to offer a precise reconstruction of the middle ages, I was curious as to precisely what they would offer.
My curiosity was not disappointed.
Here are a couple of immediate observations: Medieval Times is not a history lesson; it is entertainment—dinner theatre to be more precise. The company says that it is committed "to the accuracy of weapons and costumes", but I think I can say that it is not educational—particularly when it comes to the history that it purports to portray. As entertainment—dinner theatre—the audience is expected to participate, to cheer their knight (ours was the Yellow), respond to the unfolding narrative, and, if you like, to join the merriment during the pre-show, where the King's Chancellor will try to rally the crowd with subtle mocking, poor jokes, and a bad English accent.
Also, you will be gouged on drinks (with or without alcohol), and you will have your experience sold back to you in the form of pictures and collectibles.
Still, somehow I didn't have a bad time.
Here's how it goes. After you get your tickets, you receive a coloured crown that represents your knight (and seating area). Then you may have your picture taken with the princess on her throne. Then an usher will guide you into the medievally decorated common area, or "Knights' lounge", or "bar" where you can buy overpriced drinks in cups in the shape of horses' heads and sparkly goblets—if you can get the attention of a bar wench, that is. You can also meet the falconer and one of his birds here. You can visit "The Dungeon" for two dollars (none of us did, so I can't say any more about it). You can take a peek into the stables, and the aviary, which houses a couple more attractive and well behaved falcons. You can peruse the concession stands, "The King's Sale" one is called, and buy prince and princess costumes, child-sized wooden swords and shields, adult-sized replica steel swords and other assorted bits and bobs. I was half expecting to see bongs in the shape of dragons, but no, this is a family event after all. (However, I do recommend that you smuggle booze into the show. There are plenty of opportunities to mix it into a soft drink, in the lounge or at your table.)
I heard there was a court jester about the grounds, but I didn't see him. Eventually, the Chancellor climbs to the stage and offers something in the way of explanation of how the evening's festivities will unfold, and tries to raise a few rallying cries from the audience. Attention at this point is not mandatory, although the Chancellor will act disdainful if you ignore him. I thought a couple of fair-style games of skill and chance would have enhanced the medieval experience. At last, the Chancellor announces that it's time for dinner and the games, and the crowd is ushered into the heart of the castle to the arena.
You sit at arena-style tables, and the metal bowl with handle in front of you gives you an idea of how you will eat your dinner—without utensils. Soon, the games begin! I won't divulge the narrative, partly since I don't think I could reconstruct it accurately and partly because I wouldn't want to spoil it for anyone. But what follows are several acts of horsemanship, jousting, grandstanding, flag-carrying, hand-to-hand combat with a wide assortment of weapons—including swords, axes, morning stars, pike axes, and more, for you nerds out there—falconing, "Hollywood caliber" light shows, and overall, quite a bit of excitement. Sparks fly, knights jump, horses run, people cheer, dust rises, and good wins over evil. (That's not really a spoiler, is it?)
And dinner, well, it's a simple and tasty meal, built around two meat courses—half a roasted chicken and a barbecued rib. (There is a vegetarian option, but I didn't experience it.) The dinner is almost certainly very wasteful, though. I can't imagine that more than one-third of the people there ate the whole thing. There's also the issue of the dust. The games take place on sand, and the action stirs up that sand from the very start. I guarantee that no matter where you sit, your food acquires a fine or not-so-fine layer of dust, but the closer you are to the action, the more dust your food will have. It's possible that the very rear row of seat/tables might avoid this fate, since that row is behind the powerful fans that are supposed to keep the dust down and in the centre of the room, but that row was closed for the show I attended. I can only assume that the city's health department has determined that the amount and quality of dust that gets into the food is not harmful, and frankly, I didn't worry about it that much. (I guess if you eat quickly, you'll get less dust, too ;) There is also the curious experience of eating in the dark
The dust is also the reason I mention asthma and allergy sufferers, like myself. About half an hour into the show, I started to experience the laboured breathing that indicates the charming condition of asthma. Since I've never experienced a full-on asthma attack, and in the last 15 years, I've very seldom had significant trouble breathing, I often do not carry my asthma inhaler with me—as in this case. Perhaps I should have known, but I find no indication on the website that anyone should avoid the show for health reasons. Very unfortunately, this case was more serious than I'd experienced in 20 years! I left the arena for five or ten minutes to calm myself down, and when I returned, I managed to maintain control over my breathing, with difficulty. Naturally, this condition prevented me from focusing on and enjoying the rest of the show. At any rate, I got through it, although the after-effects lasted for a couple of days.
After the show, you can meet the knights in the lounge and continue your souvenir shopping, but all I wanted to do was get out of there.
Overall, my impression of the event is that it fills a strange void in Toronto's entertainment scene. I figure besides the families with children, the seats are filled with either enthusiasts or the curious. The former just love the show and the latter want to know what it's all about. And I guess Toronto has enough of them all to maintain the business. The entertainment is pretty good, but seems aimed at children more than adults. This is fine, since I assume young people and their families constitute the greater part of the audience. But I thought there were several relatively simple ways in which the show could be improved to make it more entertaining for adults, such as the fair games I mentioned, improved choreography, reduced dust clouds, a simpler, but more engaging story. The thing I found most interesting about Medieval Times was the spectacle itself: the fact that it exists at all and people go, the chintzy decorations and lack of atmosphere, the theme park feeling, the limited service and amusements, the people, the cast and staff... It all just seemed so weird.
Finally, unless you are in the enthusiast category, I simply don't recommend paying full price for a ticket (adult $63; under 12 $40; plus taxes). I don't think it's worth it. You're better of looking for or waiting for promotions. (For example, until the end of February 2010, there's a group promotion: four can go for $30 each.)
Have you experienced Medieval Times? Was it as interesting for you as it was for me? Read on..!
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
A clean desk is a productive desk
Yesterday, I was inspired to clean my desk in order to finish off my workyear on a high note.
Okay, I was fed up of the cat hair and bumprints all over the place, and my keyboard had reached a critical level of greasiness.
Here are the results.
Before:
After:
You might not notice a large difference between the two, but the before picture doesn't come close to portraying the coating of cat fur that my desk had attracted, or the depth of the pile of papers under the indeterminate stuff and wires at the left side.
The main culprit:
Of course, the mess didn't even come close to reaching the proportions here!
As you were. Read on..!
Okay, I was fed up of the cat hair and bumprints all over the place, and my keyboard had reached a critical level of greasiness.
Here are the results.
Before:
After:
You might not notice a large difference between the two, but the before picture doesn't come close to portraying the coating of cat fur that my desk had attracted, or the depth of the pile of papers under the indeterminate stuff and wires at the left side.
The main culprit:
Of course, the mess didn't even come close to reaching the proportions here!
As you were. Read on..!
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
2008 round up: the year in movies
So since I bought a house, I've probably watched more movies than at any other time in my life. Danijela and I have been watching about two a week, often more, alongside some newly discovered television shows. Maybe it's nesting; maybe we feel poor; maybe we are just being lazy after all the work we've done at the house! Could be. It's very cozy here; and now that winter is upon us, there are even better reasons to stay indoors. I've just finished the major part of my Christmas shopping; now if only I could develop some sort of remote shovelling system.
Anyway, I thought somebody out there on the internet might find it interesting to know what I watched in the past 12 months; so without further ado:
It's a Wonderful Life (1946) is a Frank Capra film, starring Jimmy Stewart, Donna Reed, and Lionel Barrymore. I'm not much of an older film connoisseur, but from what I have seen, I've found that the style, particularly the acting, is very different, and often difficult to appreciate. I think this film is actually remarkably modern, despite its hyper-sentimentality. The thing is, I just find the story to be so beautiful, and the performances to be so earnest, that the film creates a sort of nostalgic reality that feels right, regardless of its simple storytelling and black and white morality—it's got just enough dirt and meanness. It's a Wonderful Life is a Christmas story that doesn't need to be about Christmas—I'm not sure if the holiday is even mentioned—but it's definitely not about Santa Claus; and the spirit and reason for the season are front and centre in this one.
The Player (1993), a Robert Altman film, starring Tim Robbins and co-starring many others. Adapted from the novel by Michael Tolkin. It's an update of the noir style of film, but under the bright California sun. Altman uses incredibly long shots (the opening scene is over seven minutes long), and lots of tricks with light and shadow and close ups to create this Hollywood insiders thriller. It's full of satire, but not offensive enough to prevent half of Hollywood from doing cameos in the film. Very clever and entertaining; lots of talking makes it feel longer than its two hours; Entourage fans should enjoy.
The Sweet Hereafter (1997), written and directed by Atom Egoyan, and starring Ian Holm and Sarah Polley. Adapted from the novel by Russell Banks. This is a slow and ponderous film that has just enough weirdness about it to be clearly recognized as "Canadian". The thing mirrors The Pied Piper, with all but one of the children of a small town dying in a bus crash—but the question is "Who led them to their deaths?" There are a number of possible culprits of course, and none is clearly identified as the one, so the audience is left guessing. It's mostly well played; and Sarah Polley is excellent as the young teenager who survives the accident.
Mean Girls (2004), written by Tina Fey, directed by Mark Waters (whose brother wrote Heathers), and starring a very fresh-looking Lindsay Lohan at 18, alongside several Saturday Night Live alumni. While this movie clearly pays homage to Heathers, even directly copping some of the latter's scenes, it is definitely its own sort of beast. Mean Girls is far brighter and more optimistic—there are no murders, intentional or otherwise—and its satire is not so bleak. Still, it's very clever and well written, and it makes sense now in a different way than Heathers makes sense now. And Lindsay Lohan is very good, as is the rest of the cast.
Elf (2003), stars Will Ferrell as the title elf, and is directed by Jon Favreau. The movie also features Zooey Deschanel, James Caan, and Mary Steenburgen. This is certainly the best Christmas movie I've seen in years, which is not really fair, since I generally avoid them. Regardless, this one is fun and intelligent and somehow not at all sappy, which is the most important part of all. And the starring role—a wide-eyed fully grown man who grew up among Santa's elves but who travels to New York City to find his real father—is perfect for Will Ferrell's antics and gestures. I think the thing about Christmas movies now is that they're clearly pushing a secular version of the holiday, but the good ones at least also try to encourage some sort of Christmas spirit that is incredibly and increasingly hard to find among the consumption clatter. In other words, despite being very enjoyable, I'm not sure that Elf is a movie with any message at all, other than simply follow the Christmas spirit because that's what you're supposed to do, which cheapens the film to the level of something more crass like Bad Santa. Then again—and I'm afraid you'll have to see it to know what I'm talking about here—maybe the message is that we are looking for a Christmas spirit to believe in, and we don't really know where to look other than to that former-symbol-of-giving-now-symbol-of-consumerism, Santa Claus.
Basquiat (1996), was painter Julian Schnabel's first film. It stars Jeffrey Wright in the title role, as well as Benicio Del Toro, David Bowie, Dennis Hopper, Gary Oldman, and too many others to list. Schnabel is very talented at creating pieces of art out of movies; and over three films and 10 years (I haven't seen Berlin), he has clearly improved in his storytelling. Basquiat drops the viewer right in the middle of the story with next to no context, which works well given the subject and the time in the art world. There's a lot of neat stuff here, and regardless of how true it is, it seems to offer a realistic glimpse of the new-expressionist movement of the 80s in New York. But the film is worth seeing just for David Bowie playing Andy Warhol!
Pineapple Express (2008) was written by Seth Rogen, Evan Goldberg, and Judd Apatow, and stars Rogen and James Franco. The plot of this stoner buddy movie is simple, and it contains a lot of stumbling and bumbling around à la Superbad, which makes it easy to enjoy. But there's not a lot of depth, not that one should expect much from this type of movie. If you like these guys' work, you'll probably like this. It is funny, and occasionally surprising, but don't expect even the same sort of light social commentary that one can usually hope for from this crew.
Heathers (1988) was written by Daniel Waters (brother to Mark, who, as mentioned, directed Mean Girls), and, most importantly, stars Winona Ryder (at 17), Christian Slater (at 19), and Shannen Doherty (also 17). This film is in my mind probably the ultimate teen movie, and it is as relevant today as ever, particularly in the frightening new context of school killings. There's no doubt that it's a farce, but that doesn't make it feel any less real or powerful. In addition, it is clearly influential—I'm sure it influenced my young and impressionable mind when I saw it, probably on CityTV's late great movies—but a movie like this one can't help but be influential. It's incredibly written—smart, droll, bitter, funny, and satirical, all somehow without being over the top; and remarkably acted by such a young cast, none of whom, if I may say, went on to really fulfill her potential.
The Dark Knight (2008) was written and directed by Christopher Nolan, and stars Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, and too many others to mention. While I will certainly not buck the trend by saying that Heath Ledger's was not great, I will say that I didn't enjoy this sequel as much as Batman Begins. The sequel has all the great darkness, violence, and gadgetry of the previous film, and the cast is as good, if not better, but I think Nolan tried to force too much material into the project. Actually, I know that's what I didn't like about it: the entire Harvey Dent/Two Face story was rushed and badly developed, and I began to get the feeling that Batman could simply buy his way out of everything. It's a shame, because I really wanted to like it a lot, mostly due to Nolan writing and directing, but I guess you can't win 'em all. Still, I won't say you shouldn't rent it.
Batman Begins (2005) was directed and written by Christopher Nolan, and stars Christian Bale, Michael Cain, and Liam Neeson, among numerous others. This version is a fitting tribute to the Batman that I grew up reading. I was confused by the story at first, because I knew nothing about Ra's Al Ghul or Henri Ducard, nor had I ever read any version of Bruce Wayne's early training; but I caught on quickly. I'm a bit of a sucker for the type of story that involves lengthy training to avenge some sort of wrongdoing in the protagonist's early life. Kill Bill is a good recent example. Actually, I think I've got a thing for revenge movies in general. Anyway, it works here, against the backdrop of a crumbling Gotham faltering under the weight of bureaucracy and corruption and organized crime, desperately in need of a hero. Many of the comic book move tropes are used here: darkness pervades, steam comes from nowhere, people are afraid and paranoid, but somehow struggle through their daily lives. It's a very good effort, and better than the sequel. I hope Nolan keeps it simple for the next one.
Stand By Me (1986) is a Rob Reiner film, based on a Stephen King story, featuring several future stars, all 16 or younger: Wil Wheaton, River Phoenix, Jerry O'Connell, and Corey Feldman; and it's got Kiefer Sutherland, too! I saw this for the first time in 2008. I don't know how I went 22 years without seeing this film. I read the Mad magazine spoof when it came out, so I pretty much knew how the thing went; but it always had a certain mystique about it, which it pretty much lives up to. It's got most of the elements of a Great American Story: a gang of friends, a journey, nostalgia, friendly conflict, poor vs. rich, school smart vs. street smart. It really is great, with excellent performances from all involved—better than Feldman and Sutherland would give the next year in Lost Boys, but that's a different thing entirely.
Love in the Time of Cholera (2007) is an adaptation of the novel by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, starring Javier Bardem and Benjamin Bratt. I am not happy to admit that of Garcia Marquez's books, I've only read one, and it's not this one; it's One Hundred Years of Solitude. So I can't say how accurate the depiction here is, but with the little knowledge of the author's style that I have, I feel confident saying that the film misses the mark. I'm going to blame the directing here in the main, because the writing is okay, and acting is okay. But the story has no magic, and the characters share no chemistry. To the film's credit, the cast is almost entirely Spanish—even the leads—even though they speak in English. It bothers me when a film set in a non-English locale is full of English or American actors, made to look foreign and speak in awful accents.
---
In the unlikely event that you've made it this far, you might have guessed that this exercise is quintessentially new dilettantish. That may not be clear since nowhere have I bothered to explain what that means to me.
Well, it's one thing to post an online journal, simply as a vehicle for thoughts, opinions, and daily exploits, whether the author intends it for general consumption or personal; but it's another thing entirely when those thoughts and opinions presume to extend into the realm of criticism or journalism, without the benefit of a professional background or the hand of a skilled editor (preferably both). In the former case, you have probably the majority of bloggers—random posts on personal topics, and possibly some specific theme of personal interest—in the latter, you have "citizen journalists" (like myself)—probably mostly aspiring writers, artists, or general self-promoters, all of whom feel they have sufficient knowledge on some or many topics to write on them with credibility—most probably don't.
This is the Dilettante: the person who has not gone to the trouble to acquire proper training or education in a small range of activity or field (those would be professionals, specialists, or connoisseurs), who retains only superficial knowledge of anything, but can speak at length about many topics. The dilettante is a product of the bourgeois revolution—at least on the grand scale. There was no time for amateurs before then, among the masses.
And now we are experiencing a new middle-class revolution, which has blessed us with more leisure time than ever and more entertainments to fill it; and, apparently, a desperate need to express to others just how we are using that time, and several means to do so. There's nothing wrong with that. But it is the circumstance of the New Dilettante: adrift on a sea of unimportance, she uses her blog as a life preserver—a beacon in the vast blue. With luck—and much self-promotion—her words might shine out like a flare and draw attention her way.
Don't get me wrong: the name of my blog is not ironic. It's merely a statement of my situation and our time. For all the talk of "democratizing" journalism—which is great in some ways—blogs are generally soapboxes for people who may have informed opinions or may not, but regardless, they have opinions that they feel they must share with the world. Case in point: this rundown of the movies I watched in 2008, featuring short, utterly unprofessional, and uninformed reviews. I don't do scholarly research—the reviews are all based on my feeling looking back on the films. But is there a point to all this babble on the internet? Is there a discussion going on?
For me this is merely an exercise. I suppose I don't expect anybody to read this; but certainly I, along with the legions of other blogger journalists, hope people will. And, as a writer, I cannot help but hope they'll enjoy what they read; for I also have the dream of being discovered—preferably by some reputable and established magazine or newspaper—but really by anyone who will pay and spread my words. But please, read on!
---
27 Dresses (2008) stars Katherine Heigl as a traditionally romantic young professional woman, and James Marsden as her cynically modern young professional foil. In other words, she desperately wants to get married, and he desperately doesn't. The movie is light and fluffy, and has a happy ending—definitely a product of the time. And one might argue that it is (along with other recent movies like Juno and Knocked Up) pushing a traditional moral agenda in which the arguments of modern cynics will always come up short—could be. But I wonder about the writers of these fluffy, but cleverly written things. Has the supposed cynicism of Gen X turned to traditionalism? Was it always so? Anyway, there are a number of generational themes tied up here: for example, workaholism and over-ambition, and a new-ish take on finding true love on the other side of all the cynicism. And I think it's worth watching.
The Heartbreak Kid (2007) is a film from the Farrelly brothers, featuring Ben Stiller, Rob Corddry and Jerry Stiller as men who refuse to grow up. On a whim, Stiller's character decides to marry an even less mature woman whom he hardly knows, and queue the pissing jokes. I only watched this because I was in Cuba with cable, and Danijela and I were exhausted from too much fried food, but it wasn't bad. In short, it's a lighthearted comedy about love and fate and tough decisions, and Rob Corddry and Jerry Stiller are two hoots. I wouldn't have paid to see it though.
Knocked Up (2007) is a film from recently overexposed writer and director Judd Apatow, starring Katherine Heigl and Seth Rogan, along with much of Apatow's standard crew. None of that is bad. For the most part—that is, among the Apatow films that I've seen—he is a clever and funny writer, a combination of traits that seems to be missing from straight-up comedy these days (see The Heartbreak Kid above). Here the issue is unplanned pregnancy between unlikely strangers. The real unlikely factor is that they choose to try and continue their relationship and keep the baby, not knowing whether they actually like each other. Is it realistic? No. Is it protesting abortion? Maybe. Do either of these things take away from the writing and the performances? Definitely not. The premise of the film is that the woman gets knocked up; knowing that, we should probably expect before watching that she might go through with it.
Juno (2007) stars Ellen Page and Michael Cera, alongside a great supporting cast including Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman. It was directed by Jason Reitman, son of Ivan, so it is basically a great big Canada love-fest. It's also a sort of companion film to Knocked Up, but in high school. A young girl gets pregnant by her best friend and decides to keep the baby, but give it up for adoption. I'm getting back to near the beginning of '08 here, so I don't remember Juno especially well, but the performances are very good, and I enjoyed it quite a bit. Despite its heavy subject matter, it has a light feel,
To come:
The Lost Boys
Weird Science
Iris
3:10 to Yuma
No Country for Old Men
Blades of Glory
Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo
La Vie En Rose
The Golden Compass
Narnia
There Will Be Blood
Control
The Prestige
The Savages
Away From Her
Eagle vs. Shark Read on..!
Anyway, I thought somebody out there on the internet might find it interesting to know what I watched in the past 12 months; so without further ado:
It's a Wonderful Life (1946) is a Frank Capra film, starring Jimmy Stewart, Donna Reed, and Lionel Barrymore. I'm not much of an older film connoisseur, but from what I have seen, I've found that the style, particularly the acting, is very different, and often difficult to appreciate. I think this film is actually remarkably modern, despite its hyper-sentimentality. The thing is, I just find the story to be so beautiful, and the performances to be so earnest, that the film creates a sort of nostalgic reality that feels right, regardless of its simple storytelling and black and white morality—it's got just enough dirt and meanness. It's a Wonderful Life is a Christmas story that doesn't need to be about Christmas—I'm not sure if the holiday is even mentioned—but it's definitely not about Santa Claus; and the spirit and reason for the season are front and centre in this one.
The Player (1993), a Robert Altman film, starring Tim Robbins and co-starring many others. Adapted from the novel by Michael Tolkin. It's an update of the noir style of film, but under the bright California sun. Altman uses incredibly long shots (the opening scene is over seven minutes long), and lots of tricks with light and shadow and close ups to create this Hollywood insiders thriller. It's full of satire, but not offensive enough to prevent half of Hollywood from doing cameos in the film. Very clever and entertaining; lots of talking makes it feel longer than its two hours; Entourage fans should enjoy.
The Sweet Hereafter (1997), written and directed by Atom Egoyan, and starring Ian Holm and Sarah Polley. Adapted from the novel by Russell Banks. This is a slow and ponderous film that has just enough weirdness about it to be clearly recognized as "Canadian". The thing mirrors The Pied Piper, with all but one of the children of a small town dying in a bus crash—but the question is "Who led them to their deaths?" There are a number of possible culprits of course, and none is clearly identified as the one, so the audience is left guessing. It's mostly well played; and Sarah Polley is excellent as the young teenager who survives the accident.
Mean Girls (2004), written by Tina Fey, directed by Mark Waters (whose brother wrote Heathers), and starring a very fresh-looking Lindsay Lohan at 18, alongside several Saturday Night Live alumni. While this movie clearly pays homage to Heathers, even directly copping some of the latter's scenes, it is definitely its own sort of beast. Mean Girls is far brighter and more optimistic—there are no murders, intentional or otherwise—and its satire is not so bleak. Still, it's very clever and well written, and it makes sense now in a different way than Heathers makes sense now. And Lindsay Lohan is very good, as is the rest of the cast.
Elf (2003), stars Will Ferrell as the title elf, and is directed by Jon Favreau. The movie also features Zooey Deschanel, James Caan, and Mary Steenburgen. This is certainly the best Christmas movie I've seen in years, which is not really fair, since I generally avoid them. Regardless, this one is fun and intelligent and somehow not at all sappy, which is the most important part of all. And the starring role—a wide-eyed fully grown man who grew up among Santa's elves but who travels to New York City to find his real father—is perfect for Will Ferrell's antics and gestures. I think the thing about Christmas movies now is that they're clearly pushing a secular version of the holiday, but the good ones at least also try to encourage some sort of Christmas spirit that is incredibly and increasingly hard to find among the consumption clatter. In other words, despite being very enjoyable, I'm not sure that Elf is a movie with any message at all, other than simply follow the Christmas spirit because that's what you're supposed to do, which cheapens the film to the level of something more crass like Bad Santa. Then again—and I'm afraid you'll have to see it to know what I'm talking about here—maybe the message is that we are looking for a Christmas spirit to believe in, and we don't really know where to look other than to that former-symbol-of-giving-now-symbol-of-consumerism, Santa Claus.
Basquiat (1996), was painter Julian Schnabel's first film. It stars Jeffrey Wright in the title role, as well as Benicio Del Toro, David Bowie, Dennis Hopper, Gary Oldman, and too many others to list. Schnabel is very talented at creating pieces of art out of movies; and over three films and 10 years (I haven't seen Berlin), he has clearly improved in his storytelling. Basquiat drops the viewer right in the middle of the story with next to no context, which works well given the subject and the time in the art world. There's a lot of neat stuff here, and regardless of how true it is, it seems to offer a realistic glimpse of the new-expressionist movement of the 80s in New York. But the film is worth seeing just for David Bowie playing Andy Warhol!
Pineapple Express (2008) was written by Seth Rogen, Evan Goldberg, and Judd Apatow, and stars Rogen and James Franco. The plot of this stoner buddy movie is simple, and it contains a lot of stumbling and bumbling around à la Superbad, which makes it easy to enjoy. But there's not a lot of depth, not that one should expect much from this type of movie. If you like these guys' work, you'll probably like this. It is funny, and occasionally surprising, but don't expect even the same sort of light social commentary that one can usually hope for from this crew.
Heathers (1988) was written by Daniel Waters (brother to Mark, who, as mentioned, directed Mean Girls), and, most importantly, stars Winona Ryder (at 17), Christian Slater (at 19), and Shannen Doherty (also 17). This film is in my mind probably the ultimate teen movie, and it is as relevant today as ever, particularly in the frightening new context of school killings. There's no doubt that it's a farce, but that doesn't make it feel any less real or powerful. In addition, it is clearly influential—I'm sure it influenced my young and impressionable mind when I saw it, probably on CityTV's late great movies—but a movie like this one can't help but be influential. It's incredibly written—smart, droll, bitter, funny, and satirical, all somehow without being over the top; and remarkably acted by such a young cast, none of whom, if I may say, went on to really fulfill her potential.
The Dark Knight (2008) was written and directed by Christopher Nolan, and stars Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, and too many others to mention. While I will certainly not buck the trend by saying that Heath Ledger's was not great, I will say that I didn't enjoy this sequel as much as Batman Begins. The sequel has all the great darkness, violence, and gadgetry of the previous film, and the cast is as good, if not better, but I think Nolan tried to force too much material into the project. Actually, I know that's what I didn't like about it: the entire Harvey Dent/Two Face story was rushed and badly developed, and I began to get the feeling that Batman could simply buy his way out of everything. It's a shame, because I really wanted to like it a lot, mostly due to Nolan writing and directing, but I guess you can't win 'em all. Still, I won't say you shouldn't rent it.
Batman Begins (2005) was directed and written by Christopher Nolan, and stars Christian Bale, Michael Cain, and Liam Neeson, among numerous others. This version is a fitting tribute to the Batman that I grew up reading. I was confused by the story at first, because I knew nothing about Ra's Al Ghul or Henri Ducard, nor had I ever read any version of Bruce Wayne's early training; but I caught on quickly. I'm a bit of a sucker for the type of story that involves lengthy training to avenge some sort of wrongdoing in the protagonist's early life. Kill Bill is a good recent example. Actually, I think I've got a thing for revenge movies in general. Anyway, it works here, against the backdrop of a crumbling Gotham faltering under the weight of bureaucracy and corruption and organized crime, desperately in need of a hero. Many of the comic book move tropes are used here: darkness pervades, steam comes from nowhere, people are afraid and paranoid, but somehow struggle through their daily lives. It's a very good effort, and better than the sequel. I hope Nolan keeps it simple for the next one.
Stand By Me (1986) is a Rob Reiner film, based on a Stephen King story, featuring several future stars, all 16 or younger: Wil Wheaton, River Phoenix, Jerry O'Connell, and Corey Feldman; and it's got Kiefer Sutherland, too! I saw this for the first time in 2008. I don't know how I went 22 years without seeing this film. I read the Mad magazine spoof when it came out, so I pretty much knew how the thing went; but it always had a certain mystique about it, which it pretty much lives up to. It's got most of the elements of a Great American Story: a gang of friends, a journey, nostalgia, friendly conflict, poor vs. rich, school smart vs. street smart. It really is great, with excellent performances from all involved—better than Feldman and Sutherland would give the next year in Lost Boys, but that's a different thing entirely.
Love in the Time of Cholera (2007) is an adaptation of the novel by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, starring Javier Bardem and Benjamin Bratt. I am not happy to admit that of Garcia Marquez's books, I've only read one, and it's not this one; it's One Hundred Years of Solitude. So I can't say how accurate the depiction here is, but with the little knowledge of the author's style that I have, I feel confident saying that the film misses the mark. I'm going to blame the directing here in the main, because the writing is okay, and acting is okay. But the story has no magic, and the characters share no chemistry. To the film's credit, the cast is almost entirely Spanish—even the leads—even though they speak in English. It bothers me when a film set in a non-English locale is full of English or American actors, made to look foreign and speak in awful accents.
---
In the unlikely event that you've made it this far, you might have guessed that this exercise is quintessentially new dilettantish. That may not be clear since nowhere have I bothered to explain what that means to me.
Well, it's one thing to post an online journal, simply as a vehicle for thoughts, opinions, and daily exploits, whether the author intends it for general consumption or personal; but it's another thing entirely when those thoughts and opinions presume to extend into the realm of criticism or journalism, without the benefit of a professional background or the hand of a skilled editor (preferably both). In the former case, you have probably the majority of bloggers—random posts on personal topics, and possibly some specific theme of personal interest—in the latter, you have "citizen journalists" (like myself)—probably mostly aspiring writers, artists, or general self-promoters, all of whom feel they have sufficient knowledge on some or many topics to write on them with credibility—most probably don't.
This is the Dilettante: the person who has not gone to the trouble to acquire proper training or education in a small range of activity or field (those would be professionals, specialists, or connoisseurs), who retains only superficial knowledge of anything, but can speak at length about many topics. The dilettante is a product of the bourgeois revolution—at least on the grand scale. There was no time for amateurs before then, among the masses.
And now we are experiencing a new middle-class revolution, which has blessed us with more leisure time than ever and more entertainments to fill it; and, apparently, a desperate need to express to others just how we are using that time, and several means to do so. There's nothing wrong with that. But it is the circumstance of the New Dilettante: adrift on a sea of unimportance, she uses her blog as a life preserver—a beacon in the vast blue. With luck—and much self-promotion—her words might shine out like a flare and draw attention her way.
Don't get me wrong: the name of my blog is not ironic. It's merely a statement of my situation and our time. For all the talk of "democratizing" journalism—which is great in some ways—blogs are generally soapboxes for people who may have informed opinions or may not, but regardless, they have opinions that they feel they must share with the world. Case in point: this rundown of the movies I watched in 2008, featuring short, utterly unprofessional, and uninformed reviews. I don't do scholarly research—the reviews are all based on my feeling looking back on the films. But is there a point to all this babble on the internet? Is there a discussion going on?
For me this is merely an exercise. I suppose I don't expect anybody to read this; but certainly I, along with the legions of other blogger journalists, hope people will. And, as a writer, I cannot help but hope they'll enjoy what they read; for I also have the dream of being discovered—preferably by some reputable and established magazine or newspaper—but really by anyone who will pay and spread my words. But please, read on!
---
27 Dresses (2008) stars Katherine Heigl as a traditionally romantic young professional woman, and James Marsden as her cynically modern young professional foil. In other words, she desperately wants to get married, and he desperately doesn't. The movie is light and fluffy, and has a happy ending—definitely a product of the time. And one might argue that it is (along with other recent movies like Juno and Knocked Up) pushing a traditional moral agenda in which the arguments of modern cynics will always come up short—could be. But I wonder about the writers of these fluffy, but cleverly written things. Has the supposed cynicism of Gen X turned to traditionalism? Was it always so? Anyway, there are a number of generational themes tied up here: for example, workaholism and over-ambition, and a new-ish take on finding true love on the other side of all the cynicism. And I think it's worth watching.
The Heartbreak Kid (2007) is a film from the Farrelly brothers, featuring Ben Stiller, Rob Corddry and Jerry Stiller as men who refuse to grow up. On a whim, Stiller's character decides to marry an even less mature woman whom he hardly knows, and queue the pissing jokes. I only watched this because I was in Cuba with cable, and Danijela and I were exhausted from too much fried food, but it wasn't bad. In short, it's a lighthearted comedy about love and fate and tough decisions, and Rob Corddry and Jerry Stiller are two hoots. I wouldn't have paid to see it though.
Knocked Up (2007) is a film from recently overexposed writer and director Judd Apatow, starring Katherine Heigl and Seth Rogan, along with much of Apatow's standard crew. None of that is bad. For the most part—that is, among the Apatow films that I've seen—he is a clever and funny writer, a combination of traits that seems to be missing from straight-up comedy these days (see The Heartbreak Kid above). Here the issue is unplanned pregnancy between unlikely strangers. The real unlikely factor is that they choose to try and continue their relationship and keep the baby, not knowing whether they actually like each other. Is it realistic? No. Is it protesting abortion? Maybe. Do either of these things take away from the writing and the performances? Definitely not. The premise of the film is that the woman gets knocked up; knowing that, we should probably expect before watching that she might go through with it.
Juno (2007) stars Ellen Page and Michael Cera, alongside a great supporting cast including Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman. It was directed by Jason Reitman, son of Ivan, so it is basically a great big Canada love-fest. It's also a sort of companion film to Knocked Up, but in high school. A young girl gets pregnant by her best friend and decides to keep the baby, but give it up for adoption. I'm getting back to near the beginning of '08 here, so I don't remember Juno especially well, but the performances are very good, and I enjoyed it quite a bit. Despite its heavy subject matter, it has a light feel,
To come:
The Lost Boys
Weird Science
Iris
3:10 to Yuma
No Country for Old Men
Blades of Glory
Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo
La Vie En Rose
The Golden Compass
Narnia
There Will Be Blood
Control
The Prestige
The Savages
Away From Her
Eagle vs. Shark Read on..!
Friday, 25 January 2008
Thursday, 27 March 2003
The Honourable Mr. Ernie Eves is a buffoon, and his government is full of idiots for supporting him
I e-mailed this message to several friends five years ago, with the subject: "Difficult times, do not read if easily angered by anti-dubya Bush sentiment". The title above was the title I gave the message.
It was still early in my "active" political life, and goings on in my world could still incite me to write an angry missive and forward it to people I though might care.
It was still early in my "active" political life, and goings on in my world could still incite me to write an angry missive and forward it to people I though might care.
I didn't have a blog at the time, or I might have posted it there. And now, I found it languishing in my e-mail archive, and I thought I'd offer it a more worthwhile place.
Below is the full (but newly edited for typos) text.
"
Mr. Eves and his cabinet, unfortunately in power in Ontario, have gone the route of the Honourable Mr. Ralph Klein, Premier of Alberta, by sending word to the American Ambassador Mr. Paul Celucci that they fully support the United States war effort despite the federal government's condemnation thereof.
Although all the members of the Tory government will no doubt deny it, it is difficult to erase the perception that this support is based entirely on monetary concerns. Indeed it is nearly impossible to miss or mistake this notion, as the economies of Ontario and Alberta rely significantly on investment by our neighbours to the South.
Certainly we are all allowed to have a difference of opinion with our national government—this is the hallmark of proper democracy—but it is at times like these that further divisions of opinion at the higher levels of government reveal all the more cracks and leaks in our country’s political well being.
Why would any provincial government go out of its way to officially state its support for an illegal war that is none of our business? The answer, if it is not the one I described above, may be difficult to ascertain.
The Canadian (and American) public has spoken overwhelmingly against the war, and has supported the Liberals’ decision to remain outside the arena of war, so this is a tough issue to stand by on the electoral front, especially with a provincial election looming.
Mr. Eves said, in a letter to Mr. Celucci, “I want to reiterate that I share your expression of disappointment in the response of the Canadian government. Having grown up in a border community, I appreciate the close relations we in Ontario have with our American friends.”
Obviously, neither of them understands that close relations imply honesty, trust, support, and maybe even friendship; all of which we are more than willing to give of ourselves. Indeed our support and hospitality following the attacks on the WTC and pentagon was enormous, and if that is to be so quickly forgotten…
We cannot be guilted into joining an illegal, immoral offensive. The same rules that apply to us regular folk should apply to our higher-ups, and most would agree that we should not be cajoled into joining a compatriot in a theft or vandalism or a murder.
It is our duty as “close relations” to confront and challenge our friends, not to be yes-men. Those who play that role are merely adding to the perception of the U.S.A. as an international bully.
Apparently Mr. Celucci suggested that if Canada were to go to war, the United States would lend all the help it could. But this statement is foolish in this circumstance (and perhaps any) because the likelihood of Canada declaring war, especially under illegal conditions, is next to nil.
It seems clear that all of this talk of support for the war from select provincial cabinets really amounts to a lot of political grandstanding; but if not for the general population—those who will elect our next governments—who are against the war, then for whom? It is all for the industries who take advantage of our plentiful resources and our lax environmental enforcement; who lay off thousands while their CEOs take home record-setting bonuses; whose products we don't need…
There are plenty more problems fomenting and fermenting in Eves' Ontario these days, many of which seem to aid the rich (supposedly for the good of us all). So why, Mr. Eves, are you and your cabinet giving your official support to the U.S. government and its war?
As a related aside, one of my favourite cabinet ministers (and my preferred candidate in the Tory leadership campaign ;), the Honourable Mr. Jim Flaherty, said, Americans “were expecting us to act like friends in this time of crisis, that we would be there for them.”
This doublespeak seems prevalent among certain groups of our elected representatives these days, but what exactly is the “crisis” that he is speaking of? And if indeed there is one, of whose devising is it?
Also, it has turned out that Mr. Klein was premature in his letter to Mr. Celucci. In his letter, he suggested that he and his entire cabinet was behind the U.S., but not long after he was chastised by several members of his caucus who did not want their names attached to any such declaration.
"
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